Maureen Child - The Non-Commissioned Baby

He shrugged, his gaze running over her carelessly. “Peg said you’re a teacher, but you look like a kid yourself.”

Translation, she thought, short. It was hardly her fault that there were no tall genes in her family. “I’m thirty years old and a kindergarten teacher,” she told him. “I have references if you’d like proof.”

He held up one hand and shook his head. “Peggy’s word is good enough for me. Besides—” he waved one hand to encompass the destruction around him “—as you can see, I’m in no position to quibble. I need help with her until I can figure out what to do about her.”

One light brown eyebrow lifted. Laura felt it go up and tried to stop it, but she couldn’t. What was there to figure out? she wanted to ask. There was only one thing to do with a baby.

Love it.

He must have read her expression because one corner of his mouth lifted slightly. She didn’t want to notice what exceptional things even a hint of a smile did to his already handsome features. But she did.

“So,” he asked, “you still want the job?”

She shouldn’t. That sizzle of awareness she had experienced the second she laid eyes on him was not a good sign. But Laura couldn’t have said no even if she wanted to. Not with Miranda’s warm little body cuddled so closely.

“Yes.”

“You understand that it may be for the entire summer?” he asked. “I mean, if I can handle everything right, the baby shouldn’t be here more than a month or so. But you never know.”

Any interest Laura might have had in him dissolved at his obvious haste to rid himself of the baby. Which was just as well anyway. She had already had her shot at love—and she’d lost. Besides, she could never be attracted to a man who so obviously didn’t like children. Still, she wondered, what kind of man could turn his back on something so tiny? So defenseless?

“I understand perfectly,” she said, and watched him give a satisfied nod.

“Good.” He pushed himself up from the couch. “We can talk about salary tonight, if that’s all right with you. My rules are simple. You take care of the baby. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she said.

He gave her a quick nod and started past her toward one of the closed doors on the other side of the room. He stopped dead in his tracks, though, when she said, “Hold on a minute, Captain. Now it’s time for you to hear my rules.”

Two

Jeff turned around slowly to face her.

All he really wanted was a shower, a nap and a change of clothes. Marine Corps boot camp hadn’t been as rough on him as that one small baby girl had been. And yet, he thought as he looked into a pair of suddenly remote brown eyes, he had a feeling that his troubles were just beginning.

“Your rules?” he asked, determined to keep the upper hand in whatever argument was beginning to erupt. “Since when do employees make the rules?”

“Since now,” she declared firmly.

Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. He should have known it wouldn’t be easy. Any friend of his sister’s was bound to be stubborn and independent as hell. He stared into those soft brown eyes of hers again and felt a stirring deep within him. Despite the fact that she was dressed like a refugee from the Goodwill, Jeff found himself wondering what her legs looked like when they weren’t being hidden by seemingly miles of denim fabric.

Why would she dress like such a frump? What was she hiding from?

And why did he care?

He didn’t, Jeff told himself. He couldn’t afford to feel the sense of awareness already creeping through him. Laura Morgan was going to be living in his house, taking care of that baby. He wasn’t about to mess that up by allowing his hormones to do his thinking for him.

Still, he told himself, he must be lonelier than he had thought, to be intrigued by a tiny woman dressed in clothes two sizes too big for her.

The look in her eyes as he continued to stare at her only grew frostier. So much for her sweatshirt, he smirked inwardly. He’d be willing to bet that she hadn’t found anything “grand” about life in years.

But, since the baby was cooing contentedly, he was willing to put up with the poor man’s Mary Poppins. As for his hormones—apparently, he needed to spend some time with one or two lady friends. That should take care of any bizarre interest in Laura Morgan.

“Okay,” he said at last, folding his arms across his chest and completely ignoring the sticky substances on his T-shirt. “What are these rules?”

She nodded. “I’ll stay here and take care of the baby for the summer, but...”

“Yeah?”

She inhaled sharply and tried to draw herself up to a formidable height. He could have told her it was a futile attempt. She couldn’t be more than five foot one. And that was no one’s idea of intimidating.

“You’re not hiring me to be your housekeeper.” She paused for a look around at the mess his apartment had become. “Or,” she added, “your cook and laundress.”

Insulted, Jeff tried to defend himself. “Look, until this morning, everything was under control—”

“Also,” she said, cutting him off neatly, “there will be no walking around naked, no women strolling in and out of the apartment—”

“What are you—?”

“One of your neighbors thought it prudent to warn me about the fact that you’re what she calls a ‘ladies’ man.’”

He shook his head and gave a resigned sigh. “Let me guess. White hair, big blue eyes?”

She nodded, but he thought he saw the ghost of a smile twitching at her lips.

“Agnes Butler,” he said, the elderly woman’s features forming in his mind. “For lack of anything better to do, she spies on me.”

Twin brown eyebrows arched high on her forehead. “Spying? Sounds a little paranoid.”

Briefly, he recalled all the times he had strolled down that short hallway and spotted his neighbor, her eye glued to a partially opened door. Yeah, spying was the right word.

“You’re not paranoid,” he told her, “if they really are after you.”

A moment or two of silence passed. At last, she nodded and said, “Yes, well, the rest of the rules are pretty simple.”

“There’s more?” he asked.

She smiled. “No foul language—”

“Now, just a minute—” he said, trying to interrupt, but she was on a roll.

“No talking before coffee in the morning, and no loud TV or radio after eleven at night.”

Jeff stared at her. Was she finished? Or just pausing for breath? A few seconds ticked by, and he told himself that apparently, she’d reached the end of her demands. Well, fine. Now it was his turn.

He would tell her just what she could do with her rules. This was his house after all. Where did she get off telling him when he could or couldn’t watch his TV? And what about women? So he didn’t exactly have a parade of females trooping in and out of his apartment every day and night. If he wanted to, he wasn’t going to be stopped by her.

“Listen up, lady,” he started, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are...”

She froze, stiffening for a fight.

Miranda sniffled, shifting against a suddenly tense body.

Recognizing the signs of baby distress already, Jeff lowered his voice and spoke in a quiet, reasonable tone. “You can’t order me around. I’m the employer here, you know.”

“I can tell you what I expect,” Laura countered, her voice matching his. “And if you don’t like it, you can find someone else.”

He didn’t believe the threat. Even as she said it, her arms were tightening around the baby as if afraid that he would try to take Miranda from her forcibly.

No worries there.

But with the position he was in, he couldn’t afford to take the risk. If she left, he’d be right back where he started that morning. In deep trouble, begging Peggy for help.