A Navy SEAL's Surprise Baby

Across from Calder sat Heath “Hopper” Stone, nickname earned from his knack for hopping over any obstacle while at a full-on run.

Next to him, Cooper “Cowboy” Hansen. Rumor had him riding into Basic Underwater Demolition—affectionately known as BUDs—on horseback, but Calder always figured he’d just grown up on a ranch.

The group was rounded out by a bunch of boring-ass married guys who talked about nothing but their wives and kids. Deacon and Garrett used to be fun, but lately Calder had to force himself to even be normal around them. Oh, he loved Quinn because he was his son, but he also loved the life he’d made for himself.

Commitment wasn’t his thing.

He sure as hell didn’t want to hear about the so-called promised land of marriage. What a joke. Besides, for all practical purposes he was married—to the navy.

He loved his job. He loved how being a SEAL made the ladies go weak in the knees—not that he bragged about being a SEAL. That wouldn’t be cool. But they were a different breed and women smelled them from a mile away. Adrenaline rushes and seeing the world were his life. Before Quinn, the apartment he’d shared with Mason, Heath and Cooper had only been a temporary layover between adventures.

“Duh,” Heath said, “the nanny. Is she hot?”

Mason groaned. “Nannies rank right up there with kindergarten teachers on the sexy meter. I like to think there’s a whole lot of naughtiness going on under all that nice.”

Calder crossed his arms and glared. “Show some respect here, people. She’s nice—and really knows her stuff around Quinn.” And though he sure as hell wouldn’t mention it to this crew, when Quinn had helped himself to Pandora’s glasses, and she’d laughed, Calder had been forced to do a double take. In that moment, with the morning sun making her complexion glow, holding his giggling son, she’d been genuinely pretty. Wholesome. Exactly the look he wanted for his son. “I’m lucky to have found her and wouldn’t even think of screwing up a good working relationship by making it personal.”

Mason roared. “Just keep tellin’ yourself that, man.”

“Keep it down,” Garrett snapped from the other end of the table. He and his wife, Eve, had just had a baby boy and Garrett was obsessed with showing everyone his latest cell-phone videos. “My son’s talking...”

Calder shook his head. As the parent of his own infant, he knew kids were far from expert communicators. Guilt consumed him for not feeling more in regard to his son. What was wrong with him? When Pandora asked how Calder stood being away from Quinn, he hadn’t had a good answer. Single-handedly caring for an infant was so stressful, whenever he got the chance to bolt, he did.

So why didn’t he miss his baby and take hundreds of pictures of Quinn? Most days, Calder felt as if he lacked the most basic of dad genes. Probably had something to do with the way Quinn had abruptly entered his world.

But now that he’d finally found a nanny, he could do right by his son while at the same time getting back to what he did best. Killing terrorists with his guns, then slaying the ladies with his looks.

Chapter Two

When Calder left that morning, for Pandora the house took on the almost-reverent peace she’d only previously found in a church. Maybe it was because of the sun streaming through the many-paned windows? Or could it be as mundane a reason as her boss had painted most of the house angelic white? Regardless, she held Quinn on her hip, kicking off her sandals carefully, quietly taking it all in.

She admired the honeyed glow of maple floors in the kitchen, den and entry. In the living room, the carpet caressed her bare feet like crushed velvet. The brown leather couch and armchair still had tags hanging from them. The coffee table and a flat-panel TV sitting atop a wood stand were the room’s only other pieces. Calder mentioned he and Quinn hadn’t lived in the house long. Was he taking his time finding more stuff? Waiting till he had money in his budget? Or did he genuinely not care whether or not his house felt like a home?

She hoped he didn’t want to rush a big decision like finding just the right clock for the fireplace mantel and serene landscapes to hang on the walls. But then why would a rough, tough soldier care about any of that? He’d also admitted how much he worked. Why would a comfortable home even be high on his priority list? All he essentially needed was a place to park.

Which made her sad. Not for her, but for his son.

A survey of the kitchen showed Calder was right about her needing to go to the store. Unless she and Quinn wanted to eat baby-food peaches, carrots or protein shakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner, the day’s first priority was a trip to the store.

Noting the blender on the counter, Pandora decided no more bland, premade fare for her tiny charge. “You’re going gourmet, cutie.”

Quinn giggled when she landed a playful poke to his belly.

At the restaurant where she used to work after first getting her life back on track, she’d struck up a fast friendship with the chef. Huge, funny and French, in his laughable English he’d taught her to prepare most everything on the menu and a few items that weren’t. He’d been the only kind father figure she’d ever had, and his sudden heart attack had almost once again thrown her off course. All she remembered of her own dad was him constantly beating the crap out of her mom, occasionally taking a turn on her, then one day never coming home. Pandora would’ve thought her mom would be happy he was gone, but she’d suffered a meltdown—dying of an overdose near her forty-third birthday. Pandora, sixteen at the time, missed her, but for as long as she could remember, she’d virtually raised herself, doing her schoolwork as well as all the cooking and household chores, so the loss hadn’t come as any great shock. The distant aunt who’d taken official custody of her was all too happy for Pandora to remain self-sufficient. The ratty apartment’s rent and utilities were covered by her mom’s social security check. Pandora’s other needs were met through charity or after-school jobs.

The fact that her own mother had fallen apart should’ve served as the fire in her belly to make a better life for herself, but through counseling, Pandora now realized she’d fallen into the same abusive spiral.

Catching herself staring out the kitchen window, she said to the baby, “What do you think about from now on just focusing on our awesome future?”

He blew a raspberry in agreement.

“We have a lot to do. Not only is grocery shopping on our list, but I’ll need you to help me find a really pretty comforter and all the trimmings.”

Blue eyes wide, he hung on to her every singsong word.

“I know you’re a boy and probably don’t think a whole lot about things being pretty, but if you’d spent the past few years living where I have, you’d want to be surrounded by pretty things, too.”

Quinn babbled happily in response.

Turned out Calder’s car was as dreamy as his home. Her whole life, the closest she’d ever come to driving a new car had been when the mother of the children she used to work for had gotten a Lexus for her birthday and Pandora and the girls rode in the backseat on their way to a country-club party.

The Land Rover’s powerful engine didn’t sputter when she stopped for red lights and the tan leather upholstery smelled as good as it looked. In the rearview mirror, she regularly peeked at Quinn, all snug and smiley in his safety seat, gnawing on a rattle. Even he seemed to enjoy the ride.

The two of them made a few stops to find just the right floral bed set and fluffy yellow towels to match. Purchasing the items took nearly all her cash, but it was worth it.

With her purchases stashed in the back, she and Quinn headed to the grocery store.

Pandora had never bought so much food at once. Milk and eggs. Fruits, meats and veggies. When Calder said they were low on groceries, he hadn’t been kidding. While standing at the checkout, the total felt uncomfortably large. Her pulse raced and her palms were damp. Would the card Calder had given her even work?

The youngish female clerk asked, “May I see your ID?”

“Um, sure, but I’m a nanny and this is my boss’s card.” With Quinn fussing in his carrier, Pandora fished through her purse for her driver’s license.

“Sorry.” The woman returned Calder’s card to Pandora. “I’m not allowed to accept any credit card without matching ID.”

“Please,” Pandora begged. “It’s way past time for my baby to have his lunch, and—”

“You just said he’s not yours?”

“Well, yeah, but you know what I mean. Can we ask a manager?”

“Don’t you have an alternate form of payment?”

“No.” As this was the only open checkout lane, a line had formed behind her. With nothing else to do, people started to stare.

“Is there a problem?” the middle-aged manager asked.

Pandora explained her situation.

Quinn’s fussing morphed to crying.

“Please.” She took him from his carrier, jiggling him on her hip.

“Look, I’m sorry.” The manager voided her sale. “You seem like a nice lady, but corporate’s cracking down on checking ID for all credit-card sales. There’s a lot of fraud in this area and if your card turns out to be stolen, I’m losing my job. Can you get in touch with your boss? Have him come down here to show his ID? Then I’ll set you up an account and next time you shop, this won’t be a problem.”

Pandora eyed her cart. It’d taken over an hour to carefully make her selections. Would Calder be upset if she called his cell?

With Quinn crying harder than ever, she took a deep breath and dialed the store’s office phone.

* * *

“SORRY...” CALDER HUSTLED toward Pandora and Quinn. With a loaded shopping cart alongside her, she’d parked herself on a bench in front of the store manager’s office. “I’m an idiot for not seeing this contingency.”

“You’re not angry?” As if she’d worried about his reaction, her shoulders sagged in relief. “Because I’m sorry I even had to call. But the baby’s hungry and I didn’t know what else to do.”

When Quinn fussed, she hugged him closer, smoothing her hand up and down his back.

“How could I be upset with you when this was my fault? Should’ve thought this through.”

After getting Pandora squared away with the manager to use his card, Calder purchased the groceries, then pushed the cart, following the nanny and his son to the car. He had a hard time not staring at her cute behind because she wore the hell out of her white shorts.

She turned around and said, “Let me get Quinn settled in his safety seat, then I’ll unload everything. You get back to work.”

“I’m not in a hurry.” He already had the back popped open and had placed the gallon of milk and two bulging sacks inside.

“Still...” Finished with Quinn, she fussed with her hands. “This is my job.”

Ah, this was some kind of boss issue. “Look, Pandora, technically I might be in charge, but realistically...?” He laughed. “You’re the one with all the answers. I might place explosives on moving subs, but navigating the baby aisle in the supermarket is way over my head. I never know what kind of milk to buy, and baby food blows my mind. That makes us a team, okay?”

Smiling, she pushed up her glasses and nodded. “At least let me help.”

When she brushed past, their forearms grazed and he caught a whiff of her floral-scented hair. Maybe it’d been too long since he’d been with a woman, or maybe he was just appreciative to finally have some help with Quinn—either way, being near her made him feel extra alert. Not so much an attraction as an appreciation. Curiosity, even, to discover more about what made her tick. None of which made sense, considering he barely knew her. But there it was all the same.

A minute later, they’d finished loading his SUV. “I’ll follow you home to carry everything in.”

“Really, I’ve got this,” she assured him.

But because he’d been raised to always carry in the groceries, he insisted.

* * *

DURING THE SHORT DRIVE to Calder’s house, relief shimmered through Pandora. Not only had he not been angered by having to interrupt his day to help her, but he’d been downright gallant. And now, offering to help her unload? Amazing. Her ex had declared anything to do with groceries women’s work.

Once parked in the garage, she took Quinn while Calder handled her purchases.

In the house, she placed the still-fussing baby in his high chair, dampened a paper towel with warm water, then washed his little hands and hers. “Hold on a minute, pumpkin, and we’ll get that hungry tummy filled.”

She rummaged in the bags Calder had already piled on the counter. Spotting the one item she needed, she removed a box of teething biscuits and handed a cookie to Quinn.

For the longest time, he stared at the biscuit, inspecting it as if he was unsure what to do. When his next logical step was to put it in his mouth, he grinned, oblivious to the drool dripping from his gummy smile.

She wiped his chin with a fresh dishrag before fishing for one of the bibs she’d bought at the store. With it securely fastened to the enthusiastic eater, she set about putting away the groceries and making lunch.

“That’s everything.” Calder set the last of the bags on the kitchen table. Sitting in the chair next to his son, he asked, “What’re you eating, bud?”

Quinn gurgled and waved his hands in the air. “Bah!”

“Really?” he teased his son. “Sounds good.”

“It’s a teething biscuit,” Pandora explained. “Soothes his gums. Plus, buys me time to fix him a proper lunch.”

“Ah....” Calder nodded. “How’d you learn about babies?”

For a moment she froze, then slipped into autoresponse mode, glad for the distraction of putting veggies in the fridge. “Mostly classes and on-the-job training. This is my first full-time position with infant care, but I’ve worked part-time for three other families. Little Jonah, an eleven-month-old, was my biggest challenge. He was a jumper. That baby was nearly the death of me. He’d try escaping his changing table, crib, playpen. Can’t imagine the trouble he’s going to cause his future teachers.”

Calder laughed.

Inside, she felt the stirrings of guilt. More and more, he seemed like a great guy. She wished she could’ve just told him about Julia, but that would only raise more questions—some of which she may not have been able to answer. As Natalie reminded her, she was entitled to her private life. Her only job requirement was giving expert care to Quinn.

“No kidding. I hope Quinn doesn’t try to pull that kind of stunt,” Calder said, still chuckling.

While putting pork chops, chicken and beef in the freezer, she said, “I’m making Quinn pureed peas for lunch. Would you like the grown-up version with a grilled chicken breast?”

His grin did funny things to her stomach. “Thanks for the offer, but I had lunch back on base. Speaking of which...” He stood, then kissed the top of Quinn’s head. “Guess I’d better head back.”

Pandora understood Calder’s work was important, but once he was gone she struggled with the oddest sensation. Something akin to clouds blocking the sun.

* * *

ALL AFTERNOON, stuck in a stuffy classroom, Calder found his mind drifting to his brief time with Pandora and Quinn. There was so much he needed to learn about his son, but considering how Calder had come to be a father, he’d had a hell of a time adjusting. Sure, he’d read a few baby books, and the first week, his mom had come from North Carolina to help him through the initial crisis, but there were still times he wondered what had happened to his life.

Opening his apartment door to find a wailing, six-month-old baby blocking the way had been a shocker, to put it mildly. Quinn had been bundled in a beaten-up carrier, talking to his pinkie finger.

Since then, everything felt upside down. Calder always seemed to be rushing to catch up. Temporary sitters and day care never seemed to work out and, until finding the agency that had provided him with Pandora, he’d feared maybe having to take an extended leave until his kid started school.

Calm, capable Pandora struck him as an oasis in his child-care desert.

Tonight, instead of rushing around trying to figure out formula ratios and how to scrub Quinn without getting soap in his eyes, Calder figured that thanks to the new nanny, he was back to business as usual.

He’d grab a beer with Mason, Heath and Cooper—maybe even chat up a hot blonde.

Four hours later, Calder shared a table at a favorite SEAL hangout, Tipsea’s, with his boys. “This is the life, huh, guys?”

Mason ate a pretzel. “I don’t know. At lunch, when Garrett was showing around all his family pics... Made me wonder if we’re missing something, but then gazing out on tonight’s sea of available beauties, I’m thinking I like my current life just fine. Can I get an amen?”

Calder and Mason clinked longneck brews.

At the opposite end of the table, Cooper raised his beer.

“You three keep living the dream...” Heath fished in a pocket of his camo fatigues. “But it’s time for me to move on. Lookee what I bought for Patricia’s birthday.” He withdrew a black velvet box, flipped open the lid to display a decent-size rock.

“Whoa—you don’t mean move on as in leaving the SEALs, do you?”

Heath almost choked on his beer. “Oh, hell, no. Just that she means the world to me and I want her to be my wife. We all saw the drama Deacon, Garrett and Tristan went through in their love lives, and I don’t need it. She’s the woman for me. Done. End of story.”

“Good for you, man.” Mason patted his back. “I felt that way once.” He shook his head and laughed. “Good thing I came to my senses.”

Calder laughed his ass off.

Heath flipped them both the bird. “Yuk it up. I’m gonna be the one sleeping on clean sheets every night that I’m home with a good meal in my belly and a nice, soft woman to hold.”

“Should we check this guy for fever?” Cooper asked.

“Oh—I’ve got one.” After pushing back his chair, Heath stood. “It’s called Patricia Fever. I’m going home to her right now. You idiots are just jealous.”

After lover boy took his leave, Calder ordered a burger. Once the waitress left, he said to his friends, “We should stage an intervention. Clearly, Hopper’s traveling down a dangerous path.”

“No kidding,” Mason said.

Calder’s dad loved the ladies, but he had this old-fashioned thing about marrying them before sleeping with them. He was now on his sixth wife, which Calder saw as ridiculous. Though his mom had long since happily remarried and Calder viewed his stepdad as a great guy, he still wanted nothing to do with the institution of marriage. To his way of thinking, marriage only kept good men down. Calder enjoyed women too much to ever settle for one. And truthfully—he winked at a saucy redhead—as much as the ladies seemed to enjoy him, it’d be a damn shame to forever take himself off the market. Vowing to remain available was his gift to womankind.

At least that’s what he told himself, and anyone else who cared to ask why he was still single. In the dark of night, Calder suspected the real reason, but no way was he ever acknowledging the fact.

He, Mason and Cooper drank in silence for a while, staring out at the crowded dance floor. It was Eighties Night and Duran Duran blared over the sound system about hungry wolves.

Mason was first to break the conversational silence. “I’ve bitched about Melissa so much, you guys could probably recite my story for me. But in all these years, you two have never told yours.”

Calder said, “That’s because I don’t have one.”

Cooper tipped his cowboy hat. “Same here.”

Mason twisted to face them. “You’re telling me neither of you have ever been serious with a member of the fairer sex?”

“Nope,” Cooper said. “Damn proud of it.”

“Amen, brother.” Calder and Cooper clinked beers.

Mason whistled. “You two are a rare, fortunate breed.”

Calder grinned. “We know.”

Only after downing his burger and taking a spin on the dance floor with not one blonde but three, Calder spotted a brunette who reminded him of the new nanny. His stomach lurched upon the realization that despite all his bragging, he’d enjoyed sharing a conversation with her in his kitchen, watching his boy chow down on his cookie, more than he had spending the past three hours in this bar.

* * *

PANDORA JUMPED WHEN the front door opened and in walked Calder. Almost nine, with Quinn long since tucked in for the night, she’d been alone for so long that the house almost felt as if it were her own.

“What’s going on?” he asked, opening the entry-hall closet to set his motorcycle helmet on the top shelf.

“Not much. You?”

He sat in the armchair adjacent to the sofa. Was it her imagination or did he smell like a bar?

Though it was none of her business where he’d been, she asked, “Tired? You worked late.” Early in her recovery, the faint trace of booze on his breath would’ve had her craving a drink. Now realizing how much those drinks had ultimately cost in regard to her daughter...? She was content to stick with sweet tea.

He shrugged. “I’m good. Workwise, it was a pretty slow day, so afterward, me and a few friends stopped off for a burger and beer. I chilled there for a while to be sure I was sober enough to drive.”

She nodded.

“Quinn all right?”

“Perfect.”

The house’s silence that had only a few minutes earlier been comforting now served as a reminder of just how awkward her new position may be. She’d never stayed with a family before and she hadn’t thought about the situation from the perspective that for all practical purposes, she now lived with this man.

Drip, drip, drip went the kitchen sink.

Outside, the neighbor’s dog barked.

“Well...” Calder leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Since we’re probably both thinking it, I’m going to come right out and say it—this is weird.”

She exhaled with relief. “You’re feeling it, too?”

“No offense, but the way you’re sitting there all prim and proper like my mom, I’m afraid you’re going to ground me for missing curfew.”

She laughed. “Trust me, I’m the last person who’d judge.” Although if she were in his position, she wouldn’t waste so much as a second away from his son. She’d learned the hard way what it was like when you weren’t able to see your child. The pain was indescribable.

“Now that we’ve got that dealt with—” he stood, tugging his T-shirt over his head “—I’m gonna grab a quick shower, then study a new manual.”

“Um, sure.” Her cheeks blazed. Faced yet again with his muscled-up chest, she was grateful he retreated to his room. The part of her craving adult conversation realized Calder’s vanishing act was for the best.

He was her boss.

Not her friend—certainly not anyone whose bare chest she should be appraising.

Chapter Three

“Since you’re still up, there’s something I want to run past you.”

An hour had gone by since they’d last talked, but judging by the way Pandora jumped when Calder entered the room, she’d been deeply absorbed in a parenting book.

“Scintillating?” he teased, running his hand over his bare chest.

When she glanced up at him, her cheeks reddened. “Um, not really. Just researching the proper way to introduce Quinn to more solid foods.”

He nodded, fighting a flash of guilt for not having read the book he’d bought months earlier. “Last time I talked to my mom, she mentioned that.”

“Oh?” Pandora’s red cheeks fairly glowed. Ducking behind her book, she added, “That’s nice.”

What was her problem?

The air-conditioning kicked on, chilling what moisture still clung to his chest from the shower. Then it dawned on him—prim-and-proper Wonder Nanny didn’t like him not wearing a shirt. She’d be the first woman in history who disapproved of his eight-pack, but as her employer, he supposed professional courtesy dictated he be fully dressed. Ducking into his room, he grabbed a clean T-shirt from an unfolded basket of laundry. After tugging it over his head, he returned to the living room. “I know I told you I didn’t want to talk about Quinn’s mother until I had a few beers in my system, but I guess since you’re now his primary caregiver, you need to know why I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to parenting.”