The Non-Commissioned Baby

“You Can Handle A Baby For A Few Minutes, Can’t You?” Letter to Reader Title Page MAUREEN CHILD Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Copyright

“You Can Handle A Baby For A Few Minutes, Can’t You?”

Hell, Jeff thought. He could hardly handle being in the same room with Laura! Her cheeks were flushed from the warm, moist air, tendrils of brown hair curled softly around her face, and her eyes looked dewy, despite the spark of challenge she was shooting at him.

His insides twisted with an unexpected pang. Obviously, he thought in disgust, his attraction for her hadn’t weakened any, despite his hopes.

Only one week ago he was a perfectly contented man. His life and career were running smoothly. Now everything around him was in turmoil.

All because of one small person. And her irresistible nanny.

Don’t miss the next installment of the

irresistible BACHELOR BATTALION,

The Oldest Living Married Virgin, coming in

November, only in Silhouette Desire.

Dear Reader,

The perfect treat for cool autumn days are nights curled up with a warm, toasty Silhouette Desire novel!

So, be prepared to get swept away by superstar Rebecca Brandewyne’s MAN OF THE MONTH, The Lioness Tamer, a story of a magnetic corporate giant who takes on a real challenge—taming a wild virginal beauty. THE RULEBREAKERS, talented author Leanne Banks’s miniseries about three undeniably sexy hunks—a millionaire, a bad boy, a protector—continues with The Lone Rider Takes a Bride, when an irresistible rebel introduces passion to a straight-and-narrow lady... and she unexpectedly introduces him to everlasting love. The Paternity Factor by Caroline Cross tells the poignant story of a woman who proves her secret love for a brooding man by caring for the baby she thinks is his.

Also this month, Desire launches OUTLAW HEARTS, a brandnew miniseries by Cindy Gerard about strong-minded outlaw brothers who can’t stop love from stealing their own hearts, in The Outlaw’s Wife. Maureen Child’s gripping miniseries, THE BACHELOR BATTALION, brings readers another sensual, emotional read with The Non-Commissioned Baby And Silhouette has discovered another fantastic talent in debut author Shirley Rogers, one of our WOMEN TO WATCH, with her adorable Cowboys, Babies and Shotgun Vows.

Once again, Silhouette Desire offers unforgettable romance by some of the most beloved and gifted authors in the genre. Don’t forget to come back next month for more happily-ever-afters!

Regards,

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

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The Non-Commissioned Baby

Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MAUREEN CHILD

was born and raised in southern California and is the only person she knows who longs for an occasional change of season. She is delighted to be writing for Silhouette and is especially excited to be a part of the Desire line.

An avid reader, she looks forward to those rare rainy California days when she can curl up and sink into a good book. Or two. When she isn’t busy writing, she and her husband of twenty-five years like to travel, leaving their two grown children in charge of the neurotic golden retriever who is the real head of the household. She is also an award-winning historical writer under the names Kathleen Kane and Ann Carberry.

For Jaime and Kirk Brogdon

with love to celebrate Hayden.

A baby is a wonderful gift.

Enjoy every minute of your little miracle.

One

“Damn cats.” Jeff Ryan muttered and swung both legs off the edge of the mattress. Stumbling across his bedroom in the heavily draped darkness, he slammed his big toe into the leg of a chair.

He jerked his foot up, cursed viciously, grabbed the throbbing toe and hopped to the closed door. Yanking it open, he let go of his foot and hobbled across the living room, wincing at the jagged slices of sunlight slanting through the half-opened blinds.

What was wrong with people? he thought. Why couldn’t they keep their blasted cats at home instead of letting them sit outside his door howling like lost souls on the way to Hell?

Well, he’d had enough. This time, he’d catch the little beast and carry it straight to the manager’s apartment—or the pound.

In a foul mood that was getting worse by the second, Jeff slid back the dead bolt, threw open the door and made a lunge for the cat.

One small problem.

That was no cat screaming from its roost in the basket just outside his door.

“A baby?”

At least, he told himself as he stared down in horror at the red-faced, screaming mass of humanity, he thought it was a baby. At the moment, it more resembled something out of Aliens.

What was going on around here? He looked up and down the length of the short hallway as if he expected to find the culprit who’d abandoned a baby like something out of a 1930s movie. But no one was there.

He looked down at the baby again, still stunned to find it on his doorstep.

Fat little arms and legs swung wildly in the air, while chubby hands grabbed for something that wasn’t there. And the baby’s howl was designed to puncture eardrums.

“Hey, kid,” he said, bending down to jiggle the basket awkwardly. “Stick a sock in it, will you?”

The infant snorted, sniffed, looked at him, took a deep breath and screamed again.

And people wondered why he had never wanted kids.

Scowling in disgust, Jeff looked up and down the third floor’s long hallway again. Not a sign of anybody. Wouldn’t you know it? Where were his nosy neighbors when he really needed them? Sure, at eleven o’clock in the morning, no one was around. But let him come home at 2:00 a.m. with his date for the evening, and at the very least, old Mrs. Butler would have her head poked out her open door.

Glancing back at the Scream Machine, he noticed an envelope jutting up from the side of the basket, half-covered by a brightly colored knitted blanket.

Despite the thread of worry that had suddenly erupted in his bloodstream, Jeff reached down and plucked the envelope free. Slowly, dreading what he would find, he turned it over.

He cursed again, louder this time, as his gaze locked on his own name scrawled across the front of the envelope.

Captain Jeffrey Ryan, United States Marine Corps.

A baby on the doorstep? Things like that didn’t really happen, did they? His fingers suddenly clumsy, he tore at the sealed flap and pulled out the folded papers. Smoothing them out, he read the note first.

Captain Ryan—Sorry to just leave the baby like this, but you weren’t answering your door and I’ve got 45 minutes to catch a transport to Guam.

He paused. A fellow Marine had done this to him?

I volunteered to bring you the baby. The Sarge’s will is enclosed, too, just so’s everything’s legal. A shame about the Sarge, but we all know you’ll do right by his kid Signed, Corporal Stanley Hubrick.

The Sarge? Jeff wondered. Sergeant who? And what did Corporal Hubrick mean, he knew Jeff would do right by the kid?

Head pounding from the baby’s continued screeching, he skimmed the will once, then again, hitting only a few, significant words. Horrified. he lowered the papers and stared accusingly at the infant.

“No offense, kid, but I am nobody’s guardian.”

Ten minutes later, Jeff was on the phone, the receiver tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he rocked the incredibly unhappy baby in his arms.

At least it had stopped screeching. For the moment.

“I can’t believe this,” his sister repeated for the fifth time.

“You already said that.”

“You’re the baby’s guardian?”

“According to this will, yes.”

“Amazing.”

“Peggy,” he tried to reason with his sister, “you don’t understand. I can’t do this. What do I know about kids?”

“I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlett!” she said.

He inhaled sharply and gritted his teeth as she laughed.

“Very funny,” he snarled a moment later, the humor in the situation completely escaping him. “Now, are you going to come down here and help me or not?”

“Not,” Peggy said, amusement still touching the tone of her voice.

“Peg—” He stared, horrified as the baby started chewing on the sleeve of his T-shirt. Drool ran down the baby’s cheeks and chin, pooling in the white fabric. “That’s disgusting,” he muttered.

“What?”

Snapping back to the bigger problem, he said, “Never mind. Peg, you’ve got to come.”

“I always said you’d make a great father.”

Yes, she had, but she had been the only one to think so.

“Cut it out.” Silently, he shouted at his long-dead parents for gifting his sister with such a warped sense of humor. “This is serious. I’ve got to see about correcting this mess. Fast.”

“What’s to correct?” she said, and in the background, he heard one of his nephews apparently trying to behead his niece.

Jeff winced. Maybe he’d called the wrong person for advice on kids.

Her hand obviously half over the phone, Peggy calmly said, “Teddy, don’t twist your sister’s arm, you’ll break it.”

Unbelievable. Teddy. A nine-year-old enforcer.

“Honestly, Jeff,” Peggy spoke to him again. “You’re just going to have to deal with this. Whose baby is it, anyway?”

The name would be forever etched into his memory. “Sergeant Hank Powell. We served together in the Gulf. According to the note, Hank and his wife were killed in a car accident.”

“Oh,” soft-hearted Peggy sighed. “How terrible.”

“Yeah,” Jeff muttered, with a glance at the infant staring at him through wide blue eyes. Heck, he hadn’t seen Hank in years. What had Jeff ever done to make the man hate him enough to saddle him with his kid?

“Oops,” his sister said abruptly. “Gotta run. Thomas’s violin lesson is in fifteen minutes. Then Tina has ballet and Teddy has—”

“Karate?”

She laughed. “No, what am I, nuts? Drums.”

Good Lord. Then, realizing she was hanging up on him, he panicked. “Peg, I need help. At least until I can figure out how to get out of this.”

His sister sighed dramatically. After a moment, though, she perked right up. “Of course!” she said. “I’ll call Laura.”

“Laura?” he repeated. “Laura who?”

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of her right away,” Peg went on, mostly to herself. “I’m sure she’d be willing.”

“Willing to what?”

“Really, Jeff,” Peggy said abruptly. “I’ve got to rush. Call you later to tell you when to expect Laura.”

“Laura who?” he demanded again.

A dial tone hummed in his ear.

Abandoned, Jeff replaced the receiver and looked down at the finally quiet baby cradled against his side. Actually, when it was silent, holding it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. A peaceful expression crossed the infant’s face, and Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the worst was over.

A moment later, he frowned at the sudden, damp warmth spreading down his hip and thigh. Realization dawned. He held the baby out at arm’s length and stared down at his military green boxers.

Soaked.

In a much more disgusting manner than his T-shirt sleeve.

Slowly, he swiveled his appalled gaze to the baby.

It laughed at him.

Judging from the screams coming from the other side of the door, Peggy’s brother had his hands full. Laura Morgan winced slightly as the baby’s wail hit a particularly high note.

She forced herself not to reach for that doorknob. Every instinct she possessed told her to go inside, pick up that baby and comfort it. But she had to be sure before she did any such thing.

Laura laughed at herself. A little late for rethinking. If she hadn’t been sure, would she have taken a commuter flight from Santa Barbara to San Diego almost immediately after talking to Peggy? Would she even now be standing outside Captain Jeff Ryan’s apartment, her life neatly packed into three battered suitcases?

Okay, fine. So she wanted the job. So it had seemed like a gift from the gods the minute Peggy had mentioned it. Laura loved babies. Had always planned on having several of her own by now. She frowned slightly. The best-laid plans, et cetera.

Now here she was, thirty years old, single and hoping that her best friend’s brother would hire her for the summer. Because the only way she could ease the baby fever still holding her in its grip was with other people’s children. There were no husband and kids in her future. All of those dreams had died with Bill eight years ago.

Well, that’s a good start on the summer, she told herself. Drown yourself in a tidal wave of self-pity. Always a great party favor. Designed to win friends and influence people.

“Psst!”

Laura frowned and looked to her right, but she didn’t see anyone.

“Psst!” The voice was a little louder this time.

Studying the hall carefully, Laura finally spotted one of the apartment doors opened no more than half an inch. Staring at her through that narrow gap was one bright blue eye.

“Are you talking to me?” Laura asked hesitantly.

The door opened a hairbreadth wider, displaying a bit of the face that eye belonged to. A woman. Small, birdlike features, lined and etched by time, topped by wispy, snow white hair. “Are you going in there?” the woman asked.

“Yes,” Laura answered with what she hoped was a friendly smile. Maybe the woman was too afraid to step into the hallway. But heck, the nightly news was enough to terrify Laura, for that matter. “I’m here to look after the baby.”

“You look after yourself, missy,” the woman said softly. “That one in there, he’s a ladies’ man.”

“Is he really?” Laura turned a speculative eye on the door from behind which she could still hear the baby’s cries.

“You don’t look his usual type,” the woman continued. “But I thought you should be told. Forewarned is forearmed, you know.”

With that intriguing statement, she closed her door. In quick succession, Laura heard four locks slam home.

Interesting start to a new job, she thought. Yet she couldn’t help wondering what Captain Ryan’s type was.

Then she dismissed the old woman’s warnings, steeled herself and lifted her right hand to knock. She stopped short when she heard a man shouting to be heard over the baby.

“Yeah?” he asked. “If Laura Morgan’s so great, why isn’t she here yet? I had to take the baby to the grocery store! And it wasn’t pretty!”

Laura drew her head back and stared at the closed door as if she could see through the heavy wood to the angry man inside.

“Peggy,” he shouted, “this isn’t funny.”

Laura had to smile. Peggy Cummings’s sense of humor was one of the things she liked best about her.

“I need help,” he said. “Where the hell is this friend of yours, anyway?”

That cue was just too good to pass up. Quickly, she rapped her knuckles against the door.

It opened immediately.

The harried-looking man clutching a cordless phone to his ear stared at her. Well, he didn’t match the description given to her by his sister. Peg had described her brother as “gorgeous, meticulously neat and with enough self-confidence for three healthy people.”

The man in front of Laura now, though, looked wild. Short hair standing almost on end, he wore a white T-shirt stained with several different types of baby food, and a wet patch on his sharply creased trousers, which clung to his thigh. Bare feet only added to the image of a man on the edge.

None of that did a thing to take away from his good looks, though. His sharply defined features, strong jaw, straight nose and slightly full lips worked together to form a man too handsome for his own good. Peggy hadn’t lied. He was gorgeous. Yet it wasn’t only his face that was attractive. There was a strength about him that seemed to call to her. A knot of warmth uncurled in her stomach, sending ribbons of awareness spiraling through her limbs.

She breathed deeply, shifting her gaze to his eyes. A pale, icy blue, they seemed to look straight into her soul, poking and prodding to discover her secrets.

Laura shook her head slightly and looked away from his even stare deliberately. One thing she certainly didn’t need was to start getting fanciful.

“I think she’s here,” he said into the phone. “Call me later.”

He punched the disconnect button and set the phone down on a small table near the door.

“Are you Laura?” he asked, his blue-eyed gaze sweeping up and down her body in a flat second.

Instinctively, she stiffened, forgetting all about that instant, momentary bolt of attraction. Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin slightly. She had to do that anyway, to look him in the eye, but she hoped that the action looked defiant to him. Laura knew exactly what he was seeing when he stared at her.

A thirty-year-old woman, no makeup, wide brown eyes, dust brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore comfortable penny loafers, baggy jeans and an oversize sweatshirt that proclaimed Ain’t Life Grand? across the front.

Not very impressive, maybe. And as his neighbor had pointed out, probably not his type at all. But at least she could take care of a baby without looking as though she’d waded bare-handed through a war zone.

“Yes,” she answered stiffly, giving him the same slow once-over that he had given her. “Jeff Ryan?”

He nodded abruptly, stepped past her into the hall and grabbed up her suitcases. Dropping them next to the wall, he closed the front door, then faced her.

“Where the heck have you been?” he demanded. “I expected you a half an hour ago.”

She winced against the blare of the TV combining with the baby’s cries. Pitching her voice a bit louder than normal, she snapped, “The plane was delayed.”

Before he could comment on that, Laura sailed past Jeff Ryan into the unbelievably messy apartment. She paused long enough to turn off the TV, then followed the baby’s screams to a basket set on the floor. Inside that straw-colored wicker bed, the infant lay on a handmade quilt, its chubby arms and legs pumping madly against the air.

Laura’s heart melted.

Forgetting all about the man coming up behind her, she bent down, scooped up the baby and cradled it close to her chest. “It’s all right, sweetie,” she murmured as she rocked slowly back and forth, her right hand smoothing up and down the baby’s back. “You’re all right now. Laura’s got you.”

The screaming stopped.

The baby relaxed against her, its tiny body trembling as it sniffed and hiccuped.

“That’s amazing,” Jeff said softly, clearly afraid to break whatever spell Laura had woven around the child.

“Not really,” she said, sparing him a quick sidelong look. “A little comfort goes a long way.”

He pushed one hand through the little bit of hair allowed by military regulations and shook his head as he looked over the wreckage of his living room.

“I could use a little comfort myself,” he admitted. “She hasn’t been that quiet all day.”

A girl.

“What’s her name?”

“According to the papers, it’s Miranda. Miranda Powell.”

“Well, hello, Miranda Powell,” Laura whispered. She kissed the little head that was nestled just beneath her chin.

The baby’s fingers tugged at the material of her sweatshirt, but Laura felt the small pulls all the way to her heart.

Jeff collapsed onto the cluttered sofa, then winced, lifted one hip and reached beneath him to pull a halfempty baby bottle out of his way. Tossing it onto the floor with a fatalistic shrug, he turned his gaze back to Laura. “You’re not what I expected,” he said.

She was rarely what anyone expected and had long ago ceased to care. But she was already in love with this baby. Laura wanted the job enough to remain pleasant as she asked, “Really, why?”

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?