His lips formed into a slow, sexy smile that threw her completely off balance

How was she supposed to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that? His lazy Southern drawl wasn’t helping much, either.

Beatrice grew fidgety.

Emma moved to get her, but Jace beat her to it. “You’ve had them all day,” Jace said. “Let me handle this for you.”

He held the baby awkwardly at arm’s length.

With an exasperated sigh, she said, “Let me.”

When the baby was quiet, she said, “You asked what you should do. For starters, you need to not be so afraid of them. They won’t break.”

“Who said I was afraid? I fight wars.”

“Great. As a U.S. citizen, I’m in awe of your sacrifice, but Jace, we’re not talking about battle, but babies. Here—”

She handed Bea right back to him.

Dear Reader,

My parents thought sixth grade was a little young for romance, but from my very first Harlequin novel, I was hooked on love! Real boys were okay, but they didn’t compare to Argentinean ranchers or Greek tycoons. In my teens I realized that not all real romances or jobs end happily ever after, which is why to this day Harlequin books are a staple in my life. The characters my favorite authors create might experience rough patches, but in the end, love sees them through.

From my first read, I dreamed of becoming a Harlequin author, and I proudly hang each new cover on my office wall. Though I started out devouring Harlequin Romance and Presents, I found my home at Harlequin American Romance after reading Elda Minger’s Teddy Bear Heir. American Romance has changed through the years. Fanciful paranormals and princess tales paved the way for the family stories that make up the line today. While the topics might have changed, thankfully the one constant at the heart of each Harlequin novel has remained the same—love.

Happy sixtieth birthday, Harlequin! You don’t look a day over twenty-nine!

Laura Marie

The Marine’s Babies

LAURA MARIE ALTOM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Laura Marie Altom of Tulsa, Oklahoma, is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than two dozen books. Her works have made several appearances on both the Barnes & Noble and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. This mother of two boys and a girl—all currently in their “terrible teens”—has spoken on numerous occasions at both regional and national conferences, and teaches art at a local middle school. She’s been married to her college sweetheart for twenty years.

Books by Laura Marie Altom

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

1028—BABIES AND BADGES

1043—SANTA BABY

1074—TEMPORARY DAD

1086—SAVING JOE*

1099—MARRYING THE MARSHAL*

1110—HIS BABY BONUS*

1123—TO CATCH A HUSBAND*

1132—DADDY DAYCARE

1147—HER MILITARY MAN

1160—THE RIGHT TWIN

1165—SUMMER LOVIN’

“A Baby on the Way”

1178—DANCING WITH DALTON

1211—THREE BOYS AND A BABY

1233—A DADDY FOR CHRISTMAS

Terry, with all my heart I love you!
As for your noisy guitar…
Just kidding! Thanks for an amazing twenty years.
Here’s to many, many more!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter One

“This is a joke, right?” Captain Jace Monroe of the United States Marine Corps made a visual sweep of the pine forest flanking the main entrance and guard post of Olive, Alabama’s Camp Morgan. No lurking video crews from Punk’d or Candid Camera. In fact, for only six on a Monday night, the place was inordinately quiet, which made Jace all the more suspicious. “Whatever Granola paid you, I’ll double it if you’ll help flip this back around on him.”

“Granola?” The vaguely familiar blonde wrinkled her nose.

Two identical babies in carriers at her feet whimpered. Females, judging by the pink blankets, hats and miniature sandals.

“Don’t act like you don’t know him,” Jace said with a chuckle, glancing over his right shoulder to see if the guard on duty was having a good laugh. Oddly enough, the guy had missed the whole bit, focusing instead on paperwork. Whatever. Despite his pal’s best efforts to up him in the practical joke department, Granola had failed. Everyone knew if no one witnessed the stunt, it didn’t count.

“Jace?” The woman slid her oversized black sunglasses down her narrow nose. Eyes red and skin blotchy, she asked, “Don’t you remember? Our night in Mobile? How we ended up at that motel overlooking the bay? How you told the manager we were honeymooners, and he gave us a suite for no extra charge? Remember the Jacuzzi tub? The minibar? The chaise lounge out on the balcony?”

Lord, what a night. Heat roared through him like a well-aimed missile.

Air.

Where was all the damned air?

“V-Vicki?”

She exhaled sharply. “Thank goodness, you do remember.”

“Um, yeah,” he said, simultaneously shifting his weight from one leg to the other while running his hands over his buzzed hair. As an AH-1 Cobra pilot, his specialty was multi-tasking. What he wasn’t so great at was dealing with women, which was no doubt why his mouth was dry and his pulse was pounding harder than it had on his last combat run. “We halved an order of spaghetti and meatballs at like 2:00 a.m. I remember because you hogged all the garlic bread. I love garlic bread.”

Her faint smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “Yes, well, I wish all we had to discuss were your food preferences, but at the moment, there’s something more pressing on your proverbial plate.”

She eyeballed the squirming pink bundles at her feet.

He prayed she wasn’t heading where he feared she was.

“One baby, I probably could’ve handled on my own,” she said, “but two?” Sniffling, she shook her head. “I never thought I’d be the type to walk away from my own flesh and blood, but I’ve got college to finish and it takes two jobs to pay the bills. Do you have any idea how expensive babies are? Diapers and formula and clothes and the pediatrician. I can’t keep up, and they deserve better. I’m sorry, but since you’re their father, you’ll have to take over.”

“E-excuse me?” Blood rushed to Jace’s head.

“They’re yours now.” She looked away, her lips quivering.

It might not be manly, but Jace was seriously on the verge of passing out. “Wait a minute. How do I even know they’re mine?”

“Look at them. See anything familiar?”

The baby nearest him gummed her fist and cooed.

Kneeling in front of her carrier, Jace braced his hands on either side, staring into the infant’s striking green eyes.

His green eyes.

Vicki said, “Your gorgeous eyes were one of the first things that attracted me to you, Jace. I’d never seen such a brilliant shade on anyone—ever. That being the case, do you honestly think I slept with your long-lost twin the same weekend as you?”

“It could happen,” Jace mumbled.

Standing, he stared off into the pines, losing himself, if only for a moment, in the sight. The whoosh of wind through the boughs. Somewhere amongst the trees a woodpecker did his thing. The relatively normal sound struck him as being out of sync with his runaway pulse.

A few minutes earlier, he’d searched those woods for a video crew.

It felt like another lifetime ago.

“I’ve got to go,” Vicki said, aiming her key bob at her blue sedan’s trunk. It popped open, and she dragged out a case each of diapers and canned formula, dumping them on the blacktop parking area. Two cardboard boxes were next, followed by a yellow plastic tub heaped with toys, stuffed animals and rattles and rubber squeaky things that looked like the toys Granola bought for his golden retriever. “I’m sorry to take off like this but you’ll catch on soon enough.”

“You’re not really going to leave them with me? These are your kids.”

“Funny you should mention that,” she said with a wistful smile. “But seeing how they’re your kids, too, I thought it was high time you had a turn at raising them.”

Silent tears streaking her cheeks, she opened the vehicle’s driver’s-side door.

“You’re not seriously leaving them with me,” he repeated, more out of incredulity than not knowing what to say. She was their mother for God’s sake. Even if the kids were his—if—she’d carried them inside herself for nine long months. “What about maternal instinct?” he shouted when she’d shut and locked her door.

Revving the engine to life, she ignored his banging on the window. He tried opening the door latch, but it didn’t give.

“Vicki! Open the damned door!”

One baby began crying, then the other.

“Vicki!”

Sobbing now, she put the car in Reverse, shooting out of her parking space, narrowly avoiding the diapers.

“Stop!” he hollered above the racket of two wailing kids and her gunning the car’s engine. “Don’t do this! I don’t even know their names!”

Ignoring him, she bolted out of the lot and his life.

EMMA STEWART knelt to pluck a sand dollar from the foamy surf.

Cool Gulf water swirled around her toes, tickling, but not making her smile as it once had on long-ago vacations.

In the month since she’d rented the beach-front cabin, she’d collected one hundred and thirty-eight sand dollars. Some the size of half dollars, some dimes. One, with a tiny chip off the top, was as big around as a saucer.

Expression grim, she tucked her latest find among the shells, beach glass and driftwood already piled in the pink plastic sand bucket she’d found at Olive’s dollar store. As a fast-tracked foreign currency trader in the heart of Chicago, her legal tender had once been the Swedish kroner. Chinese yuan. Swiss francs. Now? Her days weren’t measured by financial successes, but she claimed a small victory if she managed to think about something—anything—other than the full life she’d once led.

Veering from the shore, she took the sandy path leading through sea oats, ground cherry and bluestem. The powdery, sunwarmed sand soothed her cold feet.

For June, the sea air was unusually crisp, layered with scents of salt and drying seaweed and the occasional whiff of coconut suntan oil from the bustling resort hotel a half mile up the beach. Speaking of which, it must be Reggae Tuesday, as, even at nine in the morning, the chirpy sound of steel drums rode the breeze.

She snatched the newspaper from the packed-sand driveway, and then mounted the fourteen steps leading to the deck. Mechanically, she set the kettle to boil, then popped a raisin bagel in the toaster.

While she waited for her breakfast, she turned off the central A/C and opened all of the windows, welcoming the fresh air. Having lived her whole life in Illinois, it’d been tough adjusting to the sometimes oppressive Alabama humidity and heat.

Bagel topped with cream cheese, orange spice tea loaded with honey, she sat at the breakfast-nook table, cracked open the paper, and then jumped upon hearing the phone’s shrill ring.

Swell.

Only one person aside from the kindly old couple she’d rented the home from even had the number. Emma frowned. Might as well go ahead and pick up. Once her mother started calling, she was relentless.

“Hi, Mom,” Emma said into the handset of the ancient rotary-dial phone, catching it on the fourth ring.

“Don’t you dare ‘hi, Mom,’ me. Do you know how long it’s been since Dad and I have heard from you? Would it kill you to at least get an answering machine? Angel, we know you’re still sad, but—”

“Sad?” Emma interjected. “Sad is when your college football team loses or your favorite sweater shrinks. I lost my son, Mom, then my husband. Sorry, but I think I’ve earned the right to spend a little quality time figuring out how to live the rest of my life.”

On the other end of the line, Emma’s mother didn’t even attempt to hide her sigh. “We know that what you went through with Henry was devastating, but at this point you only have a few options.”

“Oh?” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Emma tightly folded her arms.

“You either find a new man and start over…”

“Out of the question.”

“Borrow a baby. You know, sit for a neighbor.”

Drumming her fingers on the counter, Emma said, “That’ll make me feel just swell for a few hours.”

“Okay, then you adopt another child, then—”

“Please, stop. I lost my son. Henry wasn’t just a puppy, Mom. He’s not that easily replaced.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I lost a grandson. But you can’t spend the rest of your life walking the beach. After a while, your money will dry up, and you’ll have to—”

“I know,” Emma practically growled. “I get all of that. I just need time.”

“For what? We think there’s a part of you scared Rick might’ve been right. That you did have something to do with poor Henry dying, but sweetie, nothing could be further from the truth. Your father and I have discussed this at length, and truly feel the best way to help you through this is by helping you to find a way to prove not to the world, but to yourself, that you were—and still can be—an amazing mother.”

Drumming her fingers on the table, gazing past the tears in her eyes to the churning surf, through a throat nearly closed from grief, Emma said, “Mom, I have to go. I can’t do this.”

“Emma, I didn’t mean to upset you. But you’ve always been so vibrant. Holding down an impressive job while still keeping a lovely home, that we just—”

“Sorry, Mom—really—but I have to go.” Emma not only hung up the phone, but unplugged the cord from the wall jack.

“QUIT BEING STUBBORN, Jace, and try it again.”

Lips pressed tight, two days after Vicki’s abrupt arrival and departure from his life, Jace faced the task in front of him, and wished he were on a combat mission. Lord knew, it would’ve been easier than trying to get those damned sticky tabs lined up straight. He was having a tough enough time even telling which twin was which. Changing diapers was impossible.

He’d hired a PI to find Vicki, but the man hadn’t had much luck.

“Jace,” Granola’s wife, Pam, said with a not-so-gentle poke to his back. “Quit staring at Beatrice like she’s an alien, and get on with it before she catches a chill. Worse yet, before her sister wakes up.”

“Give me a sec,” he snapped. “This isn’t as easy as you say.” Was he supposed to add lotion, then powder? Or was it the other way around? Pam had six younger brothers and sisters, meaning she’d handled this sort of thing a lot. Jace was an only child. “Plus, she’s naked. I’ve never seen a naked baby before, and it’s kinda freaking me out.”

Pam gently shoved him out of the way. “You have to get a grip, Jace. The paternity-test results are due back tomorrow. What happens when you’re proven to be the twins’ father? I can’t stay here forever. I already have a husband.”

“You guys about done in there?” Granola hollered from the living room. “I really need some chow!”

Shaking her head and frowning, Pam easily diapered the baby, then dressed her in one of the pink jumpsuits Vicki had left, along with a brief note concerning their care and listing the girls’ names. Bronwyn had a freckle on the bottom of her left big toe. Other than that, the kiddos were identical.

“Men,” Pam grumbled, passing off Beatrice to him. “You’re impossible.”

Jace trailed her into the living room where Granola sat all comfy in Jace’s favorite recliner, watching his new plasma screen. “What the hell?”

“Language!” Pam snapped.

Jace rolled his eyes. “The kids can’t say more than ‘goo.’ How are they supposed to know what hell means?”

“I’ve had it—with both of you.” She pulled the lever on the recliner, forcing it upright.

“What the hell?” Granola said.

“Your wife’s out of control,” Jace mumbled.

“She’s also leaving,” Pam said, snatching up her purse then storming to the door. “Come on, William. If you’re so hungry, then you can take me out for dinner.”

“What about me?” Jace asked, eyeing the pink bundle squirming in his arms. “What happens when the other one starts crying? You haven’t left me alone with them since they got here, and—”

Pam glared. “And my back aches from sleeping on your sofa. Face it, Jace, sooner or later, you’re going to have to figure out this whole parenting thing.”

“Later works for me.”

“Come on,” Pam said, dragging Granola by his desert-camo shirtsleeve. To Jace, she said, “When we’ve finished dinner, we’ll stop by to check on you and get our stuff. After that, you’re on your own.”

FRIDAY MORNING, following her breakfast routine, Emma walked the beach. Summer heat had set in. Even at nine in the morning, humidity made the air feel thick to breathe. The Gulf was glassy, the usual churning surf little more than a slap on the sand. Despite the climbing temperature, Emma walked and walked, cooling her feet in the water, doing her best to ignore the sun beating down on her head.

As she neared the resort-style hotel, the fifties-era pop that she’d heard faintly at her house became loud enough for her to recognize Elvis.

She’d never been all the way to the hotel, but today, drawn by children’s laughter, she kept walking. Heart pounding, she strode past hotel employees setting out white beach chairs and red umbrellas along the powdered-sand shore. She mounted wide, whitewashed steps leading to the wooden boardwalk guests used to traverse the low dunes.

At the boardwalk’s end, paradise awaited. Majestic palms circled a free-form pool featuring a two-story rock waterfall and a slide on one end, and a swim-up bar on the other. From hidden speakers, Johnny Mathis crooned, and now she was close enough to hear every word. Red hibiscus and cannas lined winding, sun-bleached brick paths leading to tennis courts and mini-golf courses.

The air smelled of coffee from an outdoor dining patio, chlorine from the pool and decades of sun-baked tanning lotions and oils.

While the children’s laughter grew ever closer, Emma still hadn’t found them. On and on she searched, alarmed to find herself almost frantic. She had to see them—just to watch from afar. To give voice to such a thought would make her a psych-ward candidate, but since she didn’t plan on telling anyone, she increased her speed. Private, Southern-mansion-style villas circled the grand hotel. The buildings were all white, making the foliage all the more vibrant. Palms were now mixed with ferns and magnolias and red impatiens for added color.

A couple holding hands approached.

Lowering her gaze, Emma didn’t look at them as they passed by.

The laughter became distinct enough that she could pick out individual pitches, and Emma hastened all the more. Rounding the next bend, she nearly crashed into a maid and her cart. She said a hasty, “Excuse me,” before barreling on.

And then suddenly, there it was—a separate, shallow pool filled with toddlers and moms and dads. A few of the mothers held infants for what looked to be a swim lesson being taught by an animated young man and woman dressed in dolphin costumes.

Easing onto a red chaise lounge, Emma stared, enraptured by the sight of so many happy families. Had she really once been one of these people? Laughing and enjoying life? It seemed inconceivable.

“Pardon me,” a sunburned redhead said, jolting Emma from her thoughts, “but would you mind taking a quick family shot?” She held out a green disposable camera.

“Um, sure…” Rising, willing her trembling hands to still, Emma forced a deep breath. The woman held a redheaded infant wearing primary-colored swim trunks and a blue hat. The man beside her carried a bulging diaper bag and a squirming toddler.

“Daddy, down!” shrieked the carrot-topped little girl. “I want fish!” She pointed to the costumed instructors.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said while the girl continued to fuss. “If I’d known Mary was going to be difficult, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s all right,” Emma said, “take as long as you want.” I could stand here looking at your son forever, imagining the fun Henry and I might’ve shared.

“Thanks. I hate wasting a single shot,” she said, tickling the girl. “We went off and left our digital camera at home. It’s scary how dependent you get on being able to take hundreds of pictures of your kids.”

Throat too tight to speak, Emma smiled and nodded.

“Okay, I think we’re ready. Smile, silly rabbit!”

Emma snapped the shot, but just at that moment, the curly-haired toddler bucked, sending the diaper bag into the pool.

“My wallet and Mary’s asthma medicine are in there!” the woman shrieked.

Hurtling to action, the father set down Mary, then jumped in after the bag. Mary took off after him, yelling, “Fish! Fish!”

“She can’t swim!” Mary’s mother screamed. Before Emma even realized what was happening, the woman had thrust her infant son into Emma’s arms, and then leapt into the pool.

The entire incident took mere seconds. From the outside, the scene had been so unremarkable, no one from the splashing, shrieking swim class had even noticed.

Mary was safe.

The bag, medicine and wallet were still fairly dry.

Emma, meanwhile, holding a baby boy who was larger than her son had ever grown to be, felt in danger of fainting. But she wouldn’t, because she’d rather put herself in jeopardy than a precious child. Grief squeezed her chest, making air a rarity in her lungs.

“Thank you so much,” Mary’s soggy mother said, her daughter safely in her arms. “I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t been here.”

“S-someone else would’ve helped,” Emma reasoned, inhaling the infant’s sweet scent. Lotion and baby shampoo. It all came rushing back. How Henry had smelled right out of the tub, giggling when she tickled his belly while wrapping him in a fluffy, giraffe-patterned hooded towel.

“Regardless,” the man said, “how about we at least buy you a coffee or tea? Maybe one of those frilly, flowery drinks?”

“Really,” Emma said, fighting with everything in her not to cry, as she passed the infant to his father. Never would she give in to the insane voice telling her to run off and never let the baby go. “I’m good.”

“Sure?” the man asked. “We could flag down a waiter and have him put something on our bill for you to enjoy later.”

“Oh, let’s do that,” the woman said. “What’s your room number?” she asked Emma. “We’ll stop by the concierge’s desk and buy you and your husband lunch and fruity drinks.”

Husband? Emma glanced at her left-hand ring finger and realized she had yet to remove her thin, gold band.

“Thank you,” Emma said, pulse racing, already backing down the path leading from the children’s pool, “but I have to go. I’m late. Terribly late.” I should’ve been back at my safe, quiet house an hour ago. There, I never would’ve had my heart broken all over again.

FRIDAY NIGHT, both babies finally asleep, Jace leaned his forehead against the makeshift nursery’s window, squeezing his eyes shut. The paternity test had proven with 99.99 percent certainty that Beatrice and Bronwyn were his. The gravity of that knowledge weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He was thankful that Pam had gotten over being angry at him and had been great about helping out, but, like it or not, it was time to face facts. He was a father.

Straightening, rubbing his whisker-stubbled jaw, Jace sighed.

His commanding officer had been considerate, giving him the rest of the week off to take care of business. Jace had placed an ad for a nanny. He’d rounded up used cribs and a changing table from a few of the guys. He’d stocked up on diapers and formula and a playpen. He’d mastered diaper-changing and could at least get the crew fed and clean, but what next? He was floundering and knew it. Not a good feeling for a guy trained to handle any situation, no matter how dire, in a calm, rational manner. He didn’t panic—ever. Not even in the heat of battle. So why now, gazing at two snoozing babies, did his heart feel ready to pound out of his chest?

IN THE last few days, Emma had done a lot of soul-searching. Sunday morning, strolling along the shore, plucking shells from the sand, she kept dwelling on what had happened at the resort. Holding that baby boy had felt so right. It had returned her to a time and place when her life had been perfect. It had shown her that as much as she hated to admit it, maybe her mother had been right. Not now, but soon, she needed to get a grip.

A slight breeze stirred the muggy air, carrying with it the briny scents of the sea.

Pausing, staring out at the horizon, Emma crossed her arms, wishing the omnipresent knot in her stomach would go away. Ever since she’d held the infant, she hadn’t been able to put her latest conversation with her mother from her mind. Like a recording, her mother’s voice repeated options to help Emma take back her life.

Marry again.

Adopt.

Borrow.

Of course, the first and third options were ludicrous. The last thing Emma needed or wanted in her life was another man. And who in their right mind would let Emma borrow their infant just so that she could prove to herself she was a good mother? Adoption could be a possible road back to motherhood, but not for an awfully long time.

Emma’s own mom had been right; Henry’s death hadn’t been Emma’s fault. In her mind, Emma had no problem realizing that. It was her heart that didn’t believe it. It was her heart that had been irreparably damaged by Rick’s unfathomably cruel accusations.

Hot and annoyed by the day’s oppressive heat, Emma trudged back to her house. She didn’t bother counting her few finds, choosing instead to leave them in their pink bucket, at the base of the steps.

She went through the motions of fixing herself a bagel, but since she wasn’t the least bit hungry, she left her meal on the counter in favor of opening the newspaper she’d brought in earlier.

Sipping hot tea that was only making her hotter, Emma skimmed local and national headlines—frustrating.

Entertainment news—boring.

Birth announcements—depressing.

In the classifieds, an ad for free puppies caught her eye. After the divorce, all of her friends had advised her to get a dog. But something inside feared mothering a beagle wouldn’t be enough.

She’d finished half of her tea when something else snagged her attention:

Marine dad desperately seeking

live-in help for infant twins…

Borrow a baby, her mother whispered in Emma’s head.

The very notion of taking a job that would, in a sense, allow her do just such a thing—borrow a baby—caused her hand to tremble so badly that tea sloshed over the lip of her mug. When the liquid pooled on the newspaper, she frantically dabbed at the mess.

Dare she call the number? What if she got the job? Worse yet, her heart cried, what if she didn’t?

Chapter Two

“Um, Becca,” Jace said, forcing himself to meet the Goth girl’s dark-shadowed eyes. Though it was only early Monday afternoon, his exhaustion level made it feel closer to midnight. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me, but I’m thinking I may need someone with a little more experience.” Not to mention, fewer piercings!

“But I’ve got five younger brothers and sisters. And I just got evicted from my apartment, so I could really get into the whole sleepover aspect of this gig. Ready to talk money?” Kicking back on the sofa, she slipped off black flip-flops before putting her feet on the coffee table. Granted, he sat like that nine times a day, but it was his place. “Comfy,” she said, crossing her legs at the ankles. “Yeah, this is gonna work out fine.”

What worked for Jace was booting this applicant to the curb.

With one more interview to go, he spent the next thirty minutes reacquainting himself with the sticky tabs on the babies’ diapers. Though he’d been with them a week—and now faced the reality of being their father every second of every day—Jace still couldn’t fully wrap his head around the situation.

Just yesterday, the PI had informed him that Vicki had, for all practical purposes, vanished, meaning, Jace didn’t have any option other than to step up.

“Okay, kiddos,” Jace said upon finishing his task. “You’re good to go for at least another couple of hours.” Until Vicki could be found, he’d finished setting up his home office to double as a nursery. He felt bad about its plainness. Beige walls and a do-it-yourself computer station that leaned to the left. The cribs and changing table had been borrowed from fellow Apache pilot, Morris “Birdman” Harlow. He had three girls and one boy and all the gear that went along with them.

From their carriers, the babies stared up at him.

He stared back.

They were cute, he’d give them that, but what was he supposed to do with them? In the Marine Corps, there was a manual for everything. This whole father thing? Complete and utter mystery.

The baby nearest him cooed.

Kneeling in front of her, he touched the palm of her tiny hand with his pinkie. She curled her fingers around it, drawing it to her bow-shaped mouth to slobber.

“Hey,” he said with a laugh. “Do I look like a chew toy?”

Seeing how she kept right on gnawing, apparently, yes, he did resemble a giant teething ring. And her mini fangs were sharp!

After freeing himself, Jace grabbed a carrier in each hand, hauling them to the living room. He wanted to see how the next applicant interacted with the girls. Just because he didn’t have a clue how to be a father, didn’t mean he didn’t expect the highest level of professionalism from whomever he entrusted with the twins’ care.

He’d grabbed a Coke from the fridge when the doorbell rang.

Leaving his can on the counter, he jogged to the front hall, praying this woman was The One.

WAITING FOR her potential employer to open his door, Emma wasn’t sure what she felt. Nervousness. Worry that emotionally she had no business taking on such a task. Fear that if she didn’t get the job, she’d drown in loneliness and self-doubt. If she were given the responsibility of looking after this man’s babies, she wouldn’t just be working, but proving to herself that she’d been a wonderful mother. In doing that, she wouldn’t erase her grief over having lost Henry, but she would exorcise the demons Rick had created.

Inching her purse higher on her shoulder, she forced a deep breath.

The redbrick house’s front porch appeared as forlorn as she felt. Lining the two steps were three green plastic pots holding wilted flowers. Dust coated a porch swing as well as paned windows in need of a good scrubbing. The dandelion-strewn yard needed mowing. Any annuals adorning the flower bed had been choked out by weeds.

The door burst open, and there stood a broad-shouldered Marine, who’d presumably placed the ad. “Hey,” he said, holding open the door with one hand while shaking her hand with the other, “You must be Emma.”

“Yes,” she said, instantly at ease at her first sight of the man’s easy, white-toothed smile. He wasn’t handsome. Not in the conventional sense. His nose was slightly off kilter, as though it might have once been broken. A strong jaw held at least two days’ stubble. Like any good jarhead, his dark hair consisted of little more than short spikes. But then there were his eyes. Amazing green eyes that drew her in.

“I’m Jace. Please, come in.” Stepping onto the porch, he held open the door, gesturing her inside. “Have a seat. The place is an embarrassing mess. I usually run a tight ship, but I’m new to this whole baby thing.”

“Oh?” she asked, eyeing a white plastic laundry tub, brimming with tiny pastel apparel. The coffee table was littered with how-to-raise-baby books, rattles and disposable bottles. In the middle of it all, lounging on a fuzzy pink blanket were two gorgeous infants.

“The thing is,” he said, “I kind of—”

“Look at you…” Emma didn’t mean to be rude in ignoring her potential employer, but his babies were—Her throat swelled and her eyes welled with tears.

Since her loss, she’d avoided babies. Baby aisles. Baby magazine and TV ads. The pain was still too raw. But on Friday, having had a stranger’s infant thrust into her arms, something inside her had snapped. She could no longer avoid her pain. In that instant, she’d realized that if she were ever to regain even a portion of her former self, she’d have to face that gnawing emptiness head-on. Small steps. First, “borrowing” an infant, in this case, two, then maybe, if heaven were on her side, she’d be ready to live again fully.

Reaching for the nearest baby, scooping her into her arms, Emma lost herself in the angel’s sweet smell. She stroked downy-soft hair, deeply inhaled of baby shampoo and lotion and even the faint, clean, unmistakable scent of a freshly changed diaper.

“Um, you okay?”

Turning her back to the baby’s father, Emma pulled herself together. “Sure…” Heart shattering, Emma held the baby close. Henry, you’re back in my arms. Safe. Mommy’s here, my love.

“Do you need something to drink? Coke? Water?” The man’s hovering alerted her to the fact that if she didn’t want to end up alone back at her beach house, she’d better snap out of it. Of course, she realized this baby—even two babies—couldn’t take the place of her dear son, but if only for a moment, her pain had been eased. Her endless questions—why? What had she done wrong? Given a second chance, could she have saved her baby boy?—answered “I’ve probably got milk, too. But I’m not a big fan, so it might be spoiled.”

“Thank you,” she said, spinning to face him. “I’m good.”

“You don’t look it,” he said, instantly reddening. “Sorry. That came out wrong. You look fine. Compared to my last candidate, you’re amazing. Tears and all. Only…” Almost cautiously, he approached, holding out his arms for the baby girl she held. “I’ve gotta say, I am curious what it is about my interview skills, or lack thereof, that has you crying.”

“Sorry,” she said with a sniffle, passing off the infant, stiffening when the Marine’s fingers brushed hers. “You must think I’m nuts. But your little one reminds me of…someone I used to know.”

“Sure,” he said, though his puzzled expression clearly stated that, yes, he did find her to be at least somewhat off her rocker.

“What are their names?”

“The girls?”

“Yes,” she said with a faint smile. “Unless you have cats and dogs, as well?”

“Nah,” he said, scooping up the other baby, and then settling into an oversized recliner with both infants. “Truth is, I couldn’t handle much more.”

Following his lead, she eased onto a brown leather sofa. “So, their names?” she repeated.

“Right. One is Beatrice. The other is Bronwyn. Only way to tell is by the freckle on Bron’s big toe.”

“Oh.” Emma wondered why the marine sounded so detached, as if he was reading a dishwasher-repair manual. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, where’s their mother?”

Repositioning himself, he said, “Here’s the part where you’ll think I’ve sniffed too much napalm, but truth is, I don’t have a clue.” After relaying the fantastic story of how the twins had been thrust into his life, he added, “The pediatrician I took them to gave them a clean bill of health.”

Brow furrowed, Emma scratched her head. “So their mom abandoned them?”

“Yep.” Jace told her about the one-night stand. How the woman hadn’t even told him she’d been pregnant until caring for two babies on her own had made her come undone. Yes, as Emma well knew, the first few weeks on your own with a baby were tough, but in a wonderful way. What kind of mother just up and left her children? A monster. Emma, having lost her son to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, having missed him every day since, couldn’t conceive of voluntarily giving up one child, let alone two!

Though she was bursting with questions, the only one Emma gave voice to was, “So the job would be permanent? I would stay on, even if you do find the mother?”

“Most likely. I mean, though I’m still learning this whole parental thing, I’ve always been a quick study, and one pretty basic item is that you don’t leave your kids. I’ve got the PI on retainer, but once I do find her, I’m not sure what’s going to go down.”

How could this Vicki not have left an address? Even if caring for the infants had been overwhelming, wouldn’t the woman at least want pictures? Reports of their growth?

“Anyway, with me being a single dad, that’s where you come in. I’m a helicopter pilot. Work ungodly hours. Sure, I’ve always wanted kids, but to have them dropped on me with as much finesse as a stork…” He sighed. “Bottom line, I need help. Reliable help. You said earlier that these guys reminded you of someone. That mean you have experience with diapers and bottles and stuff?”

Emma cleared her throat. “Yes. Extra emphasis on stuff.” Emotional stuff that she still didn’t fully comprehend.

Though she hadn’t meant her comment to be funny, the Marine—Jace—laughed.

“Have references?”

From the white leather purse she still held slung over her shoulder, she withdrew a handwritten reference sheet, and then stood, handing it to him. “Sorry it’s not typed. I don’t have a computer.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he said, reading over the top of the infants’ heads. “All of these are in Chicago. You’re not from around here?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” One of the babies he held in the crook of his arms wriggled and fussed.

“Want me to take her?”

“Sure.” He cast Emma a smile. “And to make things interesting, how about a wager?”

“Like what?” Leaving her purse alongside the sofa, she took the complaining infant.

“Like if you manage to quiet that little lady, I’ll give you the job.”

“And if I don’t succeed?” Emma asked over increased wails.

He winced. “Then I guess I’m back to playing Mister Mom.”

FOR JACE, the next few minutes were entirely too long. Why had he said such a stupid thing? Betting the woman for the job? He, more than anyone, realized how desperately he needed her—even if Vicki showed up one day, he wasn’t just handing over the girls. Maybe if she proved she’d gotten therapy, or something, he might agree to partial custody, but that’s it.

Lucky for him, before he worked up too big a worry over what might happen should Emma lose the bet, she’d already won, having rocked and cooed the girl back into an adorable, three-toothed grin.

“How’d you do that?” Jace asked, in awe of the woman’s skill.

“No biggee. She probably had a gas bubble. Just needed to be jiggled out.”

“Even so, let’s make it official. Want the job?”

“Is it mandatory that I live here?” Was he only imagining it, or was she turning up her slim nose at his modest digs? “It’s lovely, but…”

As her words trailed off, it occurred to him how awkward it could prove having the woman move in. When he’d placed his ad, he’d anticipated a grandmotherly type sharing his digs. Someone who could not only tame a couple of babies, but make gravy and cookies and tackle the laundry. Emma was striking. Long, black hair and sun-bronzed skin. High cheekbones. Eyes clear and ocean-blue. Her flowery yellow sundress was modest, but short enough in all the right places to reveal toned arms and legs. Pink-tipped toes peeked out from white sandals.

“I get it,” he said. “Tell you what. I’m not expecting night training for at least a couple of months. So, for now, how about you show up around sixish tomorrow morning, and we’ll go from there?”

“You don’t need me today?” Was he misreading her, or did the sudden downturn of her lips mean she was disappointed not to be staying? She’d cuddled the baby closer, as well. As if she didn’t want to let her go.

“Thanks, but I’ve already got leave for today, so I’m good.”

“Um…” She nibbled her lower lip. “Tomorrow will be fine.” Without meeting his gaze, she passed off the baby to him, then grabbed her purse.

“Do we need to talk about what I can pay you?”

Already at the door, she said, “Whatever you can afford will be fine.”

“Sure?”

She nodded, then hurried outside.

Okay, when it came to dealing with women, he’d never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but had he done or said something to tick this woman off?

He didn’t have the opportunity to find out, as she’d already crossed the yard, climbed into a black Volvo station wagon then, without so much as a wave, sped out of his life.

Seeing how Vicki had left much the same way, Jace was starting to get a complex.

Emma would return in the morning, wouldn’t she?

LEAVING her new employer’s house, Emma trembled so badly that she had to pull onto the side of the quiet road. Tears followed. Hot and messy. The kind that well up from deep inside and for her, take hours to subside fully.

Holding the baby girl had been both exhilarating and heartbreaking. Emma had never wanted to let her go. When Jace told her she wasn’t immediately needed, it didn’t compute. The rational part of her realized her baby was gone. But that other part…

Tightening her grip on the wheel, Emma forced a deep breath. She had to pull herself together. She had to use this opportunity to heal, to stop the slide deeper into her solitary existence. Was it wrong of her to want to prove her ex the fool she believed him to be? In blaming her for their son’s death, Rick had hurt her to her core. He’d transformed an already impossible situation into Emma’s own private hell.

For that, she’d forever hate him.

What she would not do was succumb to his accusations. In caring for Jace’s twins, she’d prove to herself that she’d been an amazing mother. Henry’s death had been an unexplainable mystery. Something she’d never truly understand. What she could grasp was the fact that this Marine needed her, and she needed his girls.

Chapter Three

“That’s the official tour,” Jace said. At six-fifteen Monday morning, after having been up most of the night trying to quiet tag-team-crying twins, he was hardly at his best. It was a good thing he was scheduled for maintenance rather than flight. “Questions?”

Emma shook her head.

In the makeshift nursery, she stood alongside the crib, smoothing her hand along the nearest infant’s back. Her smile was serene. Her posture relaxed. He’d had his doubts as to whether she’d even return, but she’d been five minutes early, bearing a canvas tote loaded with what she called supplies. When she hadn’t been looking, he’d sneaked a peak. Lullaby books, DVDs, plush toys and clothes.

“Your references checked out.”

“Oh?” As if in a trance, she didn’t look up from the crib. “That’s good.”

“All four were surprised, though, by your choice of work. You used to be in finance?”

She shrugged. “In another life.”

“You’ve got a Master’s from Stanford.”

“Your point being?”

“Aren’t you kind of overqualified?” It wasn’t in his nature to pry, but the woman would be spending a lot of alone time with his kids. “I mean, most of the women I interviewed had only been to high school.”

“Is there any shame in that?” The hard look she cast over her shoulder said she didn’t appreciate getting the third degree. He didn’t care.

“Not at all, and kindly don’t put words in my mouth. College doesn’t prove a man or woman’s worth. It’s what’s in here—” he patted his chest “—that counts.”

“I agree.”

Sharply exhaling, Jace glanced at the ceiling, then back to her. “Look, the last thing I want to do is argue with you, Em.”

“My name’s Emma. I don’t think we should get too informal.”

O-kay. “All I’m trying to say is that I found it surprising how well-educated you are. I can only afford to pay minimum wage, but you clearly deserve more.”

“Did I complain?”

“No, but…” What was it about him that seemed to draw impossible women like a magnet? He glanced at his watch. Twelve minutes to get to the hangar. “Never mind. Sorry I brought it up.”

Her crossed arms and pressed lips told him she was, too. Sorry, that is, that he’d commented on her past. But hell, what had she expected?

“Is there a number you can be reached at in case of emergency?” Her tone had softened, he noted thankfully.

“Yeah. I put together a list of them and taped it to the fridge.” On his own, such a thing never would’ve occurred to him, but Pam had insisted.

“Thanks. What time should I expect you home?”

That depended. After his duty, he usually grabbed a couple of beers and shot pool with the guys. “Do I have to come straight home? With the babies and all, it’s been a while since I’ve hung with my friends.”

“Take your time,” she said, shoulders sagging as if strangely relieved he’d be late. “Have fun. I’ve got everything under control.”

Though Jace didn’t doubt that, he did wonder how exactly the MBA had earned her caretaking experience.

“IS YOUR NANNY hot?” Jace’s chief maintenance officer, “Red” Murphy asked from his stool at Jar’s Bar—their favorite hangout.

Jace—known to the guys as Leadfoot—rolled his eyes. “For the record—yeah. She’s hot. But since when do I have time for women?”

Granola butted in with, “Looks like you had plenty of time the night your kids were conceived.”

Jace gave his friend a slug. “Knock it off. For what I’ve been through, you all owe me a round.”

Red snorted. “A round of baby formula.”

“Jace, you should be home,” Pam said, swigging her beer. “You have responsibilities now.” Usually, women weren’t allowed at guys’ night, but she’d crashed. Out of respect for Granola, the guys had voted to let her stay. Although now Jace was thinking he might need to rescind his vote. “It’s not right for you to let that poor sitter work overtime just so you can be out playing. You’re being an ass.”

“Thanks,” Jace said. “I probably do resemble that statement, but I’m still kinda in shock. Tell me, Ms. Smarty Pants, what would you do if some guy suddenly dumped two kids on your lap, announcing they were yours?”

“Probably call Ripley’s Believe It or Not, seeing how last I checked, guys couldn’t give birth.”

“Burn,” Red said with a jab to Jace’s ribs. “She got you there.”

“Y’all know what I mean. Vicki has some nerve. I mean, if she’d told me about her pregnancy from day one, I’d have had a running start at this parenting thing. I hate her for that.”

“Think she doesn’t feel a tad bitter toward you?” Pam flashed him a sarcastic smile. “You’ve got a lot of nerve having slept with her, then never so much as calling her again.”

“I refuse to feel guilty.” Jace downed the rest of his beer. “It wasn’t like we weren’t both consenting adults. Besides, she had my number. She should’ve called. I would’ve liked to have known.”

“Would you?” Eyebrows raised, Pam said, “Come on, really, Jace, I’m sorry if I’m coming down on you, but I can’t imagine trying to raise one kid, let alone two on my own. Vicki must’ve gone through hell. True, her leaving her twins wasn’t cool, but then neither is this holier-than-thou attitude of yours. Like you’ve done no wrong, and share no part of the end result of that wild night.” She drank more beer, and then snatched a tortilla chip from the basket in the table’s center, biting down hard. “At first, I felt sorry for you, but once I saw how cool you’ve been about the whole thing—mechanical, even—like your twins are machines to be figured out, well, I’m incensed.”

“Yo, Granola!” Jace shouted across the table. “Mind calling off your pit bull?”

Raising his hands in surrender, Granola returned with, “Cut me some slack. I’ve got to go home with her.”

“Glad it’s your problem,” Jace mumbled.

“Watch it,” Granola fired back.

WITH THE TWINS cooing along to a Baby Einstein video, Emma had cooked dinner. Cooking had always been a favorite hobby, but working so many hours, her time in the kitchen had been limited to weekends.

Tonight, thinking the twins were no doubt ready for solid foods, she’d made mashed potatoes and gravy to go along with oven-roasted chicken and fresh green beans. It was a good thing that she’d assumed Jace wouldn’t have thought to purchase high chairs. And bibs. And a double stroller for trips to the grocery store.

Maybe she’d gone a little overboard, but she viewed this opportunity—however long it lasted—as a vacation from her lonely life. Just like purchasing souvenirs, she’d had to grab a few items to enhance her stay.

“Whoa. What’s that incredible smell?”

Emma jumped to see Jace, a baby cradled in each arm, filling the kitchen’s entry.

“Hi,” she said shyly, dwarfed by his size in the compact space. He wore desert-camo pants, black combat boots and a beige T-shirt that hugged his shoulders and chest. Though he’d been clean-shaven that morning, already his jaw sported stubble. When he’d left, they’d been on tense terms; she hadn’t meant to be so snappy. Upon examining her feelings, it’d occurred to her just how afraid she was that he’d fire her.

“Hi, yourself. Dang, woman, you’ve been busy.”

She shrugged. “I thought you might be hungry when you got home. Also, while we can’t be sure what foods the babies have been introduced to, I’m thinking that if you start them on solids, they’ll sleep more soundly through the night.”

“Sure,” he said. Babies still in the crook of each arm, he managed to open a drawer next to the stove, remove a spoon, then help himself to a heaping sample of her potatoes. Eyes closed, he groaned. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a home-cooked meal. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Why, she couldn’t say, but his appreciation warmed her to her toes. Rick hadn’t been the overly demonstrative type. A defense attorney, he was usually as formal with her at home as he was in the courtroom.

“Well…” glancing about the kitchen, seeing that her work was done, she said, “you’re probably ready for me to go, huh?”

“You’re not staying for dinner?”

“I suppose I could. But I don’t want to intrude.”

He waved off her objection. “Mind taking one of these?” Nudging alongside her with a baby, he said, “I need to wash up. Hey—when did you get those?” He nodded to the high chairs.

“This afternoon. Hope you don’t mind.” She explained about also having the double stroller.

“Of course I don’t mind. I just haven’t yet had time to fully gear up. Thanks. I’ll pay you back. For dinner, too.”

Now, she was waving him off. “It’s not a problem. I found most everything on sale.”

“Uh-huh.”

She tucked Beatrice into a high chair, and then turned to Jace, holding out her arms for Bronwyn.

Bea started to kick and fuss. From the cabinet beside the fridge, Emma rummaged for a box of teething biscuits, giving one to each girl.

“You’ve thought of everything,” Jace said. “Unlike me.” Head bowed, he sat hard on a kitchen table chair. “Here, I’m a Marine. I pride myself in handling any situation, but after rumbling with a good friend of mine tonight, then listening to you, I’m feeling lost.”

“About what?”

“This whole fatherhood thing. I’ve got the general logistics down. My diapering is now done with precision. But I’m not sure what comes after that. You know, like the being-a-great-dad part.”

“Give yourself a break.” Emma was careful to keep her tone soft. Encouraging. The last thing she needed was for Jace to think he wasn’t up for parenthood. “You’ve only been a dad for what? A week? It takes time. Trust me, you’ll figure it out.”

“I’M PAYING you a freakin’ fortune,” Jace said into his cell the next afternoon. He was in between training runs, pacing a weary grass patch between flight hangers. The sun was brutal. Ninety-percent humidity sucking the life out of him. One brave—or stupid—strand of honeysuckle twined up the building’s corrugated metal siding. The sickeningly sweet smell made him want to retch. As did the memory of Pam’s condemning words. And Emma’s supportive kindness. “What do you mean there’s still no sign of Vicki? She can’t have just vanished.”

“Sorry,” the PI said, “my wife’s eight months pregnant and home alone while I’m out on this wild goose chase. Nobody wants to find this Vicki more than me. Trouble is, the car tag you gave me from the guard gate surveillance tape turned out to be a rental. The contract was under the assumed name of Mary Smith. She showed the proper ID, meaning she had to have been planning this a while.”

“So?” Furious didn’t begin to describe the emotions raging through Jace.

“The fact that she had enough foresight to want to stay out of touch tells me this is going to be tougher than I’d originally thought.”

“But she’s a college student,” Jace pointed out.

“Where?”

“Hell, I don’t know.” Slicing his free hand through his spiky hair, Jace lengthened his stride.

“Without a last name, I’m not even sure where to start. We’ve exhausted all easy leads.”

Jace said nothing, just silently fumed.

“With the Internet, you’d be amazed at what you can do. These days, disappearing is no big deal.”

“Great,” Jace mumbled.

“I really am sorry. You think of anything we can use to identify her—anything at all—give me a ring. Night or day.”

Having turned off his cell, Jace plucked a blossom from the honeysuckle vine. As a kid, growing up in Kentucky, he and his friends used to yank out the stamens, sucking at the sweetness. Life had been simple then. Carefree. Now, everything was a mess. He wasn’t sure where to turn.

An image flashed before his mind’s eye. Emma.

Maybe she’d know how he was supposed to be a real father to his girls when there were times he still felt like a kid himself.

“JACE?” Hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun, Emma realized it was him jogging toward her from the opposite end of his neighborhood park’s walking trail. Though the redbrick homes comprising the base’s residential sector all looked alike with their rectangular shapes and boxy front porches, the base as a whole had a kind of tranquility due in large part to the abundance of trees: pines and magnolias and ancient live oaks drizzled in Spanish moss.

“Hey,” he said, out of breath and bending at his waist to brace his hands on his knees. He wore the same uniform as he had the day before, only this time his desert-beige T-shirt clung to his chest from sweat. She’d known he had a powerful build, but when he straightened to his full height, something about seeing him in broad daylight made her mouth go dry. “When I saw you and the little ladies weren’t home, but your car was, I took a gamble you might be here.”

“Is that all right?” she asked. “It’s only three o’clock. If I’d known you planned on being home this early, I would have—”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I snuck out.”

“Why? Everything okay?” He wasn’t replacing her, was he?

“Yeah. On the job anyway.” He walked a short distance down the azalea-lined trail to park himself on a wooden bench. A light breeze rustled the Spanish moss. “Have a seat,” he said, patting the space beside him. “There’s something I want to run by you.”

Pulse erratic, she pulled the stroller off the trail, making sure the twins’ faces were in the shade, and then did as Jace had asked. Not only was it awkward being so close to him, but his unreadable tone had her worrying she’d done something wrong.

He asked, “Why are you all of a sudden so wide-eyed?”

“I don’t know,” she said, smoothing the folds of her lightweight floral cotton skirt. The day was hot, and sweat and his direct question had her pink tank top clinging in places she’d rather it would not. Truth was, today had been even better than yesterday, and she wasn’t anywhere near ready to give up the babies. Was he firing her? Had he found alternative arrangements?

“You look like someone just ran off with your ice cream cone.”

“Oh?” She cast him a faint smile.

“Relax,” he urged with a gentle shoulder nudge. “Your life can’t be anywhere near as complicated as mine.”

Wanna bet?

“Anyway, it’s like this…” He relayed his conversation with his PI, then arched his head back and sighed. “You can’t imagine how freaked out I was, hearing that the guy had no more leads. Then, making matters worse, all of my buddies had no love.”

“Love?” Emma wrinkled her nose.

“They couldn’t have cared less. Hell, one of them even came right out and said that if I’d ever just stick with one woman, this wouldn’t even have happened. Which, if you ask me, was a seriously wrong thing to say, considering what the last woman I thought I loved put me through.”

Interesting. She wouldn’t have thought a happy-go-lucky sort like Jace would have relationship issues. But then, she’d never thought her own marriage would end in a nasty divorce.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she said, “but what does any of this have to do with me?” Because honestly, all she wanted from this job was a chance to prove herself as a mother. Yet the longer she sat alongside Jace, studying the sweat rivulet grazing his temple, the harder it was not to brush it gently away.

“Technically, nothing.” He angled still closer, landing his camo-covered thigh against hers. “But I’m glad you asked the question, because nutty as it sounds, at the height of my rage over Vicki, the only person I could think to come to for advice was you. Here I barely even know you, but judging by how the babies instantly took a liking to you, you seem like a trustworthy gal.”

Gal?

“All of my friends are too close. I need an outsider’s view on this whole mess. That’s where you come in.”

“For starters,” she said, inching away from him to give herself room to think, “suddenly having two gorgeous, healthy babies land on your lap is far from a mess, but more in the realm of blessing. Second, if you’re looking for me to give you absolution—as though you’re the innocent in all of this, you’ve come to the wrong person.”

“Damn.” His lips turned into a slow, sexy smile that threw her completely off balance. How was she supposed to stay mad at him when he looked at her like that? His lazy Southern drawl wasn’t helping much, either. “You’ve got a temper like a riled-up drill sergeant.”

Beatrice grew fidgety.

Emma moved to get her, but Jace beat her to it. “You’ve had them all day,” he said. “Let me handle this for you.” He held the baby a little too far away. In her short time with Henry, she’d learned that babies like to snuggle as close as possible. They like to feel sheltered. And apparently, since the baby was growing ever more fitful, Jace wasn’t doing such a great job.

With an exasperated sigh, she said, “Let me.”

The baby quiet, she said, “You asked what you should do, and though this may not be what you want to hear, for starters, you need to be not so afraid of them. They won’t break.”

“Who said I was afraid? I fight wars.”

“Great. As a U.S. citizen, I’m in awe of your sacrifice, but Jace, we’re not talking about battle. We’re talking about babies. Here—” She handed Bea right back to him.

He held the squirming infant like a cross between a priceless porcelain vase and a net filled with smelly, wriggling fish.

“First, really hold her. Babies need to feel your heartbeat. At her current distance from you, she probably can’t even tell who you are.”

“Like this?” He scooted forward on the park bench, giving himself room to lean back. He rested Bea on his chest, but didn’t wrap his arms around her.

“Not at all,” Emma chastised. “Hold her like you mean it. That’s how she knows she’s loved.”

“Huh?” He scowled while making a few obligatory pats.

“Let’s try it another way. When you were a kid, did you ever have a favorite pet?”

“My hamster, Buzzy.”

“Great. So how did you hold him?”

“I stuck him in my hoodie pocket.” He grinned.

Emma frowned.

Licking her lips, trying with everything in her to be patient, she said, “How would you hold a woman? Someone you genuinely care about?”

“Hell…” He scratched his head. “It’s been a while. And anyway, what does holding a baby have to do with a girlfriend?”

“Technically, nothing. But inside, everything. It’s the same general idea in that the way you hold someone shows how you feel about them. Don’t you think that when you hold Bea in a standoffish way, she can tell you don’t like her?”

“Hey,” Jace said, straightening into a defensive pose. “She’s my kid. Of course I like her.”

“I know. All I’m saying is that you should display your affection not just through words, but actions. Like this.” Leaning close enough to Jace that she caught the leathery scent of his masculine deodorant and soap, she gently positioned Bea against the natural curve of Jace’s chest. She next urged his arms around the infant so that rather than merely supporting her, he held her. Sheltered her. Gave her the security a baby girl deserved from her father.

“Wow,” he said, nuzzling the crown of Bea’s head. “I get it. That really does make a difference. It feels like she’s connected to me.”

“See?” Emma said, heart swelling. All too well, she remembered holding Henry close. Feeling that as long as she held him he’d feel safe and loved. “I told you so.”

“And I’ve gotta say that this is one time I don’t mind being put in my place. Thanks.” Jace smiled, and the sincerity behind his eyes stole Emma’s breath.

In that instant, not only had Jace connected with Bea, but with Emma, and the realization was somehow exhilarating and appalling.

Sharply, Emma looked away.

“I was just thinking,” he said, “since I’m home early, we might—”

“Sorry,” she said, standing, “but I just remembered that I have an appointment. Think you can handle getting the girls home on your own?”

“Yeah, but—”

Fighting a queer tightness in her throat, a panicky need to be free of his piercing green stare, she started off down the winding trail. “Really, I have to go.”

Chapter Four

“Son,” Jace’s mom said that night on the phone from her RV campground in Maine. She and his dad had been touring the east coast all summer, but if you asked Jace’s opinion, it was past time they hightailed it home. “I wish I could tell you what to do, but you’re a grown man, capable of getting yourself into huge messes, and I pray to God every day that you’re equally as capable of getting yourself out.”

“That’s just it, Mom, this isn’t my ordinary mess. Those I can fly or sweet talk my way out of, but this…”

She laughed. “For this, you’re going to have to use your heart.”

He wasn’t going to dignify that with a comment.

“Once you find this Vicki woman—and you will—swallow your pride and marry her. The rest will work itself out.”

“M-marry her? She abandoned her own kids! Why would I want to live the rest of my life with a woman like that?”

“Man up, Jace. That’s what Oprah would say.”

Jace rolled his eyes. Great. Looks like his mom had a new favorite afternoon show. Whatever happened to her quoting The Young and the Restless? “Mom, how about putting Dad on the phone?”

“He’s off sailing with our new friends, Ed and Louise. They have the sweetest little boat moored in Bar Harbor.”

Swell.

“You were always a stubborn, strong-willed child, Jace, but this is one time when you need to put aside what you think about this whole matter, and surrender to what you feel.”

After hanging up, Jace realized he should have stayed on the line, asking his mom why he couldn’t seem to figure out exactly what he felt.

That afternoon, in the park with Emma, when she’d shown him how to hold Bea properly, for a split second an unfamiliar warmth had crept through him. But then Emma had left, and so had his warm-and-fuzzies.

He knew in his head that he was a father. That he’d suddenly been thrust into a role of responsibility larger than anything else with which he’d been charged. So what was wrong with him that he couldn’t connect that knowledge with his heart?

“GOOD MORNING.” At five-thirty the next morning, Jace opened his front door to a dark, pouring rain, and a soggy Emma.

Thunder rolled.

Taking her umbrella, then ushering her inside, he said, “Did you make it to your appointment?”

“My what?” Emma set down her purse, and then shrugged out of her yellow raincoat, hanging it dripping on the hook beside the door.

“Yesterday, when you left the park, you said you had an appointment.”

“Oh.” She looked away. “I forgot.”

“Why’d you lie to me, Em? Why the rush to get away?”

“First, my name’s Emma, and second, I…” As if utterly spent, she crumpled onto the sofa. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have to be anywhere. I just couldn’t be around you any longer.”

Jace winced. “What’d I do?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. Please don’t fire me.”

“Fire you?” Grabbing his cell phone from a charger, he parked alongside her, checking for messages. “Why would I do that?”

“For lying.”

“Then you admit it?”

“Again, I’m sorry.” She had a funny look on her face. As if she wanted to say more, but wouldn’t. “I, um, was having female problems.”

“Whoa—” Turning all of his attention to rummaging through his flight bag, he said, “say no more. That’s all I needed to hear.” Plus, he was damned glad she hadn’t been ticked at him. His track record with women wasn’t all that great, and he sure as hell didn’t need to lose his girls’ nanny this soon into her tenure.

“Want something to eat before you head out into this nasty weather?”

“What about your, er, problems? Because with those sorts of—you know…” He flopped his hands on his lap, gesturing to where her general womanly region would be. “Well, I don’t want you overdoing it.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Promise. You go ahead and finish getting ready, and I’ll whip something up.”

MAKING BREAKFAST, Emma was almost quivery with relief. Just up and taking off the previous afternoon hadn’t been a smooth move. What if she’d been fired?

“Smells good,” Jace said fresh from the shower.

He hadn’t yet put on his shirt, and moisture still clung to the dark hair on his chest. Emma’s stomach returned to fluttering, only this time, it had nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with Jace’s proximity. “I, um, hope you like it.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No, thank you. Everything’s just about done.” Easing his three fried eggs onto a plate, she asked, “How did the girls sleep?”

“Great. I was only up once, which is a record since their arrival.”

“I figured introducing solid food would help. But then for all we know, they’ve been used to it.” She buttered his toast, and then eased four strips of bacon alongside his eggs. Setting the plate and utensils in front of him, she asked, “Anything else before I check on the babies?”

“Yes.” He stood, walked to the cabinet to grab an extra plate, fork and napkin, and then pulled out the chair alongside him. “Join me. The last thing I intended when hiring you was for you to be my own personal serving wench.”

“I know,” she said, fidgeting her hands along the seat back of the nearest chair. “But I don’t feel comfortable sharing a meal with you.”

“Why?” he asked, already divvying up the food. “Because yesterday, in the park, I thought we’d had a connection.”

“That was different,” she bristled.

“How so?” He dug into his portion of the meal.

“We were discussing parenting. Sharing a meal would be…different.”

Shaking his head, he laughed. “You’re a tough one to read, Emma Stewart. Please, sit. Promise, I won’t bite a thing besides my food.”

She sat, but didn’t like it. The man was too playful for her tastes.

He shoved her plate and fork toward her. “Try some. It’s good.”

“I usually just have a bagel for breakfast.”

“That’s why you’re so skinny.” He helped himself to a piece of her toast. “Ask me, a woman needs meat on her bones. Something for a man to hang on to.”

Her mind’s eye focused on an image of him spooning her. How it might feel being cocooned by his strength. Heat flamed her cheeks. She hastily feigned interest in her food.

“I’m not too skinny,” she snapped. “There’s no such thing.”

“Think what you want, but trust me, you’re a decent-looking woman. If you’d pack a little junk in your trunk, I’ll bet you wouldn’t be able to keep guys away.”

Momentarily stunned, she just sat gaping at him. “Please tell me you didn’t say what you just said.”

He shrugged, and then calmly forked the last bite of his eggs. “In my line of work, I might die tomorrow. I believe in calling it like I see it.”

“Yes, well, I believe this conversation is out of line.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, blinding her with that slow, sexy grin. “My bad. You already have a guy, don’t you? Since you don’t wear a ring, I assumed you were single, but—”

Since her incident at the hotel, she’d permanently removed her wedding ring.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I am single. And I intend to stay that way.” Pushing her chair back, she stood. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do what I was hired for, and check on the babies.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jace said, sending her a playful salute.

“QUESTION,” Jace asked Granola the next morning while performing his helicopter’s flight check. The previous day’s storms had burned off, leaving clear skies with unlimited visibility. Wind out of the south at ten knots.

“Shoot,” Granola said, voice muffled into his flight helmet’s microphone.

“You know this nanny I’ve hired?”

“Yeah. Altitude two-two-zero reached.”

“Check. One-two-zero K-T-A-S reached. No unusual vibrations. Control position normal.” Jace confirmed the maneuver area was clear before launching the next portion of the test. “She’s a sharp cookie. Cute, too.”

“No rotor instability,” Granola said when Jace had finished his portion of the test. “You thinking of asking her out?”

“No way. Wouldn’t she be morally off limits?” Jace initiated a climb.

“I don’t see why. Control positioning check.”

Grunting, Jace performed a series of left-and right-bank angle turns. As expected, everything checked out fine. Returning to base at normal cruising altitude, Jace said, “She used to be some kind of financial guru. She’s not married and she doesn’t have kids, but damn, does she know her way around babies.”

Granola suggested, “Maybe, like Pam, she grew up in a big family?”

“Maybe.”

“You ever think of asking her all of this instead of me?”

“S’pose I could,” Jace said, banking left, “but she’s kind of frosty.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes she just rubs me the wrong way. Like she expects me to be something I’m not.”

“Like a father?” Granola asked.

“Think you’re funny, do you?” Jace threw the helicopter into a hard and fast sixty-degree bank.

“MOM,” Emma said into her cell while filling her Volvo’s empty gas tank. “I promise I’m fine. Happy even.” The twins were strapped into their safety seats with the front windows down, so the air inside the vehicle didn’t get too hot.

“That’s quite a change from the last time we talked. When I told you to get on with your life, I was hoping for that to happen sometime over the next few months. Not in a few days.”

“What can I say? An opportunity came up, and I went for it. I’ve always loved children. You were the one who told me I should borrow some. So, that’s essentially what I did.”

“Great. For once you actually followed my advice. But honey, gauging your happiness level, somewhere along the line you’ve forgotten these aren’t your children.” Her mother’s insinuation that Emma somehow didn’t already understand this fact was insulting. “Plus, you don’t even know the man you’re working for. What if he’s some kind of deviant?”

Topping off the tank, Emma sighed. “He’s not a deviant, Mom. He’s a Marine. I seriously doubt any guy the U.S. Marine Corps trusts with a multi-million-dollar piece of equipment is going to go Hannibal Lecter on me.”

“I didn’t say he was, honey, only that I’m worried about you. Just a week ago, you were so deep into your own thoughts you could hardly carry a normal conversation. Now, you’re all of a sudden healed. Don’t you think I should be concerned?”

What Emma thought was that her mom should mind her own business.

Emma said her goodbyes, grabbed her receipt from the pump and then climbed back behind the wheel of her car.

Beatrice was cranky—had been all through their trip to the grocery store—and was fitfully crying. “We’re on our way home, ladybug,” she soothed, checking on her in the rearview mirror.

She popped a sing-along children’s disc into the CD player, and turned the volume to High.

Bronwyn, at least, happily kicked and cooed.

At the house, Emma made quick work of unloading the babies, then the groceries. Bronwyn seemed content on a pink quilt on the living room carpet, lying on her back, grinning at the mirror and dangling shapes on her baby gym. Beatrice, however, wasn’t so easily amused.

After trying a bottle, baby-food peaches and pears, a diaper change and burping, Emma settled for good old-fashioned rocking in Jace’s navy leather recliner.

Cradling her close, tucking Beatrice’s head beneath her chin, Emma sang softly. “Hush little baby, don’t you cry, Momma’s gonna sing you a lullaby…”

Soon enough, Beatrice had calmed, and then fallen asleep. Lots of times when Henry had been cranky, Emma had found that nothing but human contact soothed. Emma guessed it worked for grown-ups, too, since she had isolated herself from family and friends up north, but still hadn’t found solace. Yet here, now, with two infants and an oftentimes infuriating lug of a Marine, she truly was feeling better than she had in months.

No matter what her mother might think!

Since it was nearing six, Emma knew she should start dinner, but she hated to disturb the baby, who had finally fallen asleep.

A key sounded in the front-door lock, and in walked Jace, wearing his usual grin. His complexion looked sun-kissed, as if he’d spent the day outdoors. “Hey,” he said, setting his flight bag on the tiled entry floor. “How’re my girls?”

“Better now,” Emma said, her voice soft so as not to wake Beatrice. “This one’s had a rough day.”

“She’s not sick is she?” Jace crossed the short distance to the recliner, kneeling alongside it, putting his hand on the infant’s forehead. “She doesn’t feel hot.”

“No. Maybe she just misses her mom. I suppose it’s only natural.”

Jace stayed quiet.

“No word from the PI?”

“Nope.” Exhaustion weighing his shoulders, he rose, then dropped onto the sofa, unlacing his boots.

“How would you feel if Vicki abruptly showed up?”

He shrugged. “It’s a fluid situation. At first, I was panicked enough by the girls’ tag-team screaming that I probably would’ve given Vicki another chance at motherhood. But now…” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You all right?” Emma asked. “You look pasty.”

“I feel pasty.” In a decidedly un-Marine-like pose of vulnerability, he covered his face with his hands. “Em? What if I never figure out how to be a good dad? What if I lack the parental gene?”

Beatrice still in her arms, Emma rocked up and out of the chair to sit alongside Jace. “When you held this one in the park—really held her—she nestled against you like she’d known you forever. Because she has. You’re her father, Jace. Your DNA is hers—and her sister’s. You can’t help but grow into an amazing father.”

He snorted.

“What?”

“Your logic is ludicrous. If all it took to be a perfect parent was DNA, then what was Vicki’s excuse?”

Emma lowered her gaze. Agreed with him, did she?

Jace knew he’d have been laughed out of the Corps for admitting it, but right at that moment, he was jealous of a six-month-old for being held by Emma. In three tours of duty in hellacious war zones, he couldn’t remember ever having been this scared.

“Trust me,” Emma said. “Stop a second to look at who you are. What you do. If you have enough intellect and courage to fly a helicopter in the most dangerous parts of the world, then can’t you use that same chutzpah to raise two amazing babies into well-rounded, happy and healthy grown women?”

Eyes stinging, throat tight, Jace nodded.

“So then you’re feeling better about the whole situation?”

“Sure,” he lied. “Only how am I going to pay for two sets of braces? Two cars? Two college degrees?” Cheeks flaming, he added, “Holy hell, what if one—or both—want to become doctors or lawyers? But then, that might be a good thing, right? Because they’ll have nice, safe jobs and meet straight-laced types who—”

“Whoa.” Emma curved her hand around his shoulder, telling herself the jolt of heat was imagined. “The girls are six months old, Jace. You’re getting ahead of yourself on the old worry tree. For now, let’s stick with introducing a few more solid foods and baby-proofing all of your cabinets and electrical outlets.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Baby-proofing. Good plan.”

“Jace…” her tone was soft. A verbal pillow on which to rest his turbulent emotions. “Trust me, down the line—weeks from now, maybe even months—you’ll never be able to imagine your life before Bea and Bronwyn entered it. Being a parent is…” In the living room’s dim light, her eyes shone. Was she on the verge of crying? “…the most wonderful thing you can imagine. Through these angels’ eyes, you’ll experience everything anew. Their first Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas. And just think, with every year, every occasion will be new again because the girls will be at a fresh stage of life. There will be trick-or-treating and baking cookies for Santa. Holding out your arms to them when they run off the school bus ecstatic to see you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she turned to brush them away. “Anyway,” she added with a sniffle, “you have lots of good times ahead of you. I’m actually a little jealous.”

“In that case,” he said, sensing that for whatever reason, she needed him to lighten the moment, “how about I give you the honor of handling the good—and stinky—surprise I’m guessing Bea just left in her diaper.”

Chapter Five

While changing Bea, Emma pondered how Jace had sensed she’d needed not only a joke, but a few moments of alone time to gather her composure. He hadn’t noticed her blubbering like a big baby herself, had he?

“How’s it going?” he asked, standing behind her, his size dwarfing her. “Need help?”

“I’m good,” she said, forcing a smile. Clearly, no matter what she’d told her mother about her current mental state, Emma was far from good. Dreaming about what her life might have been with Henry—his first words and steps, kindergarten and high-school graduations, along with all of the infinitely lovely steps in between—had been more than she could bear.

“Listen,” he said, a still-grinning Bronwyn on his hip as he reached around Emma for the pink plastic powder bottle, “how about we call a sitter and head out for some grown-up time?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, like we go out to dinner or catch a movie? It’ll be fun, and Lord knows, we could use a little more of that around here.”

“Didn’t you hear a word of what I just said?”

“Sure. You said you were fine. You know? Like when I asked if you needed help changing Bea’s diaper.”

Heat flamed Emma’s cheeks. Flames of fury. “Jace, when you have kids, life changes. Everything changes. Your children become your fun.”

“Well, sure, but don’t you need a life of your own?”

“Don’t you get it?” Hands on her hips, she snapped, “These twins are my life.”

In the second it took for her to realize what she’d said, Jace froze.

“My twins are your job, Emma.”

“R-right. But I’ve always been the workaholic type,” she said as cover. Heart pounding, she added, “All I’m saying is that since they’re your flesh and blood, they should be fun.”

“But at the moment, I’m needing more. Grown-up fun.” Turning his back on her, leaving the room, he asked, “Would you mind if I met a few of my guys at Jar’s Bar? I’d only be gone like an hour. Two, tops.”

“Now? It’s almost seven. You haven’t even had dinner.”

“I offered to take you out.”

Lips pressed tight, Emma lifted Bea into her arms, holding her close, drawing in deep, calming breaths.

“So?” Jace called from the living room. “Is it cool?”

Assuming he was referring to his leaving, she called out, “Sure. I’ve got everything covered.”

“Thanks. Bronwyn’s in her playpen.”

And just like that, Jace was gone.

As was any respect she might’ve had for him.

“LEADFOOT!” Jace’s pal Grant called out from their favorite table. His official nickname was Fossil, seeing how he was pushing forty and still hadn’t been married. “You’re the last person I expected to see tonight.”

“Yeah, well, you know how it is…” Jace sat in the chair across from his pal. “Quiet tonight. Where is everyone?”

“Pam’s leading Granola around by a leash these days. Don’t know where everyone else is.” Fossil nursed his longneck bottle of beer.

Jace nodded.

Great. Now what? When he’d come up with the idea to join the guys, it’d seemed the answer to his every worry. Just one night of freedom, then he’d be ready to face everything. Fatherhood. His next flight plan. Handling his attraction to the nanny.

“Asked Em out,” Jace said to his friend who’d turned his attention to the baseball game playing on the blurred, ancient big screen. The player’s uniforms all looked purple.

“Oh?”

“Turned me down.”

“Ouch. Sorry, man.” Fossil waved to the waitress. “We’re gonna need a couple of shots over here. Tequila?” he asked Jace.

Jace nodded.

While Fossil relayed the order, Jace folded his arms, staring hard at the TV.

Upon the waitress’s return, Jace downed the shot and asked for another.

All told, there were only about twenty people in the bar. Mostly fellow Marines. A few couples. Some single women. The place was shabby: old wood bar, notched up with thousands of carved initials, dark-paneled walls, glowing with an odd assortment of neon beer signs and red carpet so stained with spilled beer and nacho cheese that if sun ever were to shine on it, the health department would shut the place down.

“What’re you going to do?” Fossil asked during the next commercial break.

“’Bout what?”

“What do you think? The nanny.”

“Oh. Right.” It might not be fatherly, but at the moment, after two quick shots, Jace was starting to feel a buzz, and didn’t want the memory of Emma’s furrowed forehead bringing him down.

“How hot is she? Like smokin’ hot? Or just so-so.”

Jace shot him a glare. “Let’s just say she’s the temporary mother of my kids and leave it at that.”

“Done,” Fossil said, downing their latest round.

Watching the game, Jace couldn’t fathom what’d made him defensive about Em. He hardly knew her, yet felt an odd sort of protectiveness toward her that he couldn’t begin to explain.

Hours later, by the time Jace had drunk enough black coffee to drive safely, he swerved his Mustang around Em’s trusty Volvo wagon and into the garage.

“Em?” he called out, entering the house through the kitchen door. Crap. A glance at the glowing red microwave clock told him he was an ass. A little after 2:00 a.m. He crept into the dimly lit living room to find Emma curled up on the sofa, snuggled under the ugly yellow afghan his Aunt Francie had made him for his thirtieth birthday.

Just looking at her left hot, queasy lead in his gut.

Fine dad he was turning out to be.

So what did he do now? She was out cold, just like he wanted to be. Should he wake her to apologize for having stayed out so long? Or did he leave it till morning, hoping she’d fallen off to sleep around nine and had no idea what time he’d gotten home?

He’d chosen to go with the latter when the silence was broken by a fitful cry coming from the nursery.

Damn.

Leaving Emma to head for the babies, Jace turned when she called his name in a hoarse tone.

EMMA EASED UPRIGHT on the sofa. Once she had her bearings, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he said. “Go back to sleep. I’ll deal with the girls.”

“Deal with them?” Scowling and shaking her head, she said, “Don’t bother. I’ve got it handled. Besides, you need a shower. You reek of booze and cigarettes.”

“I’m sober and don’t smoke.”

“Well, wherever you’ve been all night,” she said on her way to the babies’ room, “someone was smoking.”

Jace sighed. “Look, it’s late. I’ve got an early flight schedule. Would you mind saving your lecture till I’ve gotten some sleep?”

Bronwyn howled.

Lifting her from her crib, Emma said, “I’m hardly lecturing you, Jace. You pay me to take care of your girls, which I’m doing. What you choose to do with the time you’re not at the house is none of my business.”

The baby was soaked, so Emma made quick work of changing her, then hugging away her tears. Settling Bronwyn into her crib, Emma covered her, lightly patted her behind, and then yawned on her return trip to the living room.

Grabbing her purse, she said, “Need me back at six?”

“Stay.” Sighing, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be out so late. Forgive me?” The lopsided grin he shot her was cute, but he wasn’t about to get off that easy. He was a father now. What about that didn’t he get? “Please,” he said. “I’ll worry about you being out this late.”

Shaking her head on her way out his front door, Emma mumbled, “My late-night driving is the least of your worries.”

“DAMN,” Jace said under his breath upon arriving home the next night. He’d called Emma to tell her he was stopping by Jar’s Bar and would be a little late, but one thing had led to another, and before he’d known it, a table hockey tournie had broken out, and he’d had to defend his title.

But now here he was in his kitchen, nine at night, staring at the remains of what earlier must have been an amazing meal. Roast beef. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Green beans. Even rolls, that now looked pale and stiff. Obviously Em had put a lot of time and heart into preparing all of it and once again, he’d come out looking like an ass.

“You’re home.” Emma leaned against the kitchen door jamb, using her hand politely to cover a yawn. “Have fun?”

It’d seemed like great fun at the time, but now, for perhaps the tenth time since meeting the woman, he felt less than heroic. “Um, sure. Thanks for cooking. You know it isn’t in your job description.”

“Forgive me for being considerate. I thought you might be hungry after work.”

“Aw, Em, that’s not—”

“Emma.”

“Sorry. Emma, I very much appreciate you having made me a decent meal. I sure as hell would’ve rather had something home-cooked than the chili burger burning a hole through my chest.”

“Apology accepted. Um…” She gestured toward the living room. “The girls are both sleeping, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just go.”

“Emma…”

She half smiled. “We’re good. See you in the morning.”

Why was it that even after he’d watched her car’s taillights turn off his street, Jace didn’t feel anywhere near good? Without saying a word, her one look had told him volumes. That she thought he was a screw-up as a father. But then that was no major revelation. It wasn’t as if he’d had a heads-up on the whole parenting situation.

Before putting away dinner, Jace wandered into the nursery. A pink-sequined night-light cast a soft glow. Another of the nanny’s purchases? Judging by the ballerina pig mobiles dangling over each girl’s crib, as well as the fuzzy new comforter sets—also pink—Emma had had a busy day.

Standing at the head of Bronwyn’s crib, Jace looked at her. Really looked at her. The way her closed eyelids occasionally fluttered and with every few breaths, her lips made an adorable suckling motion.

A slight tremble in his hand, he reached into the crib, cupping his hand around the crown of the infant’s downy head. She was so small. Fragile.

And truthfully, a little scary.

She and her sister needed him, and what had he been doing? Worrying about his table-hockey score. No wonder Em had given him such a disgusted look. He just didn’t get it. But from now on…

“I’m going to try doing better, ’kay, little one?” The words sounded honorable. But would he be able to make good on them?

ONE WEEK LATER, Emma sat cross-legged on the living-room floor with Bea and Bronwyn on her lap. Emma held a picture book in her hands. Earlier, while the babies napped, she’d cleaned, working out her frustration with Jace on the dusty baseboards and shelves. The scent of lemony furniture polish was comforting—unlike the stale smoke typically clinging to Jace when he came home.

Emma knew she shouldn’t care that rather than coming home straight after work, Jace usually stopped by a favorite off-base hangout. But on behalf of his daughters, she was livid. Having lost the ability to hold her own child, it was beyond her comprehension how Jace wouldn’t want to spend every available minute of his free time with his twins.

“Aren’t they young for reading?”

She jumped to find Jace standing not five feet away. “You scared me,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you this early.” Given the fact she’d just been thinking about him, being this near him made her uneasy. Not in a bad way. More like a hyperawareness that made her hands fidgety and her pulse race.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, perched on the edge of the couch.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a swift—and, she hoped, clearing—shake of her head. “Could you please repeat it?”

“I asked aren’t the kiddos young for books?”

“No. Studies show even newborns benefit from being read to on a regular basis.”

“Oh.” He removed his heavy black boots.

“Want to take over?” she asked, wagging one of the colorful pages.

“I don’t know,” he said, forehead furrowed. “I probably wouldn’t be any good.”

“You might surprise yourself.” Grinning, patting the empty spot on the carpet alongside her, she said, “Give it a try.”

Groaning, he rose.

With another groan, he lowered his considerable frame beside her. “I’m too old for this.”

“Get used to it,” she teased. “Just wait until they start demanding piggyback rides.” How often she’d daydreamed of just such a thing. Taking Henry to the park. Rick used to be part of those dreams, but now, she preferred removing him from her imaginary pictures.

Swallowing the knot in her throat, she handed Bea to Jace, careful to keep touching him to a minimum. “Here’s one, and here’s the other.” Before he had time to object, Jace sat with both girls on his lap, his arms around them. Though he hardly looked at ease, she’d at least give him points for trying. Passing him the book, she said, “The process is pretty straightforward from here.”

“Ha-ha.”

Bronwyn started to fuss.

“Now what?” he asked, looking to Emma for help.

“Could be any number of things. Maybe she’s hungry or needs a diaper change. She might need burping, or could be nothing more than her needing a hug.”

“Swell,” he said, eyeing Bronwyn as if she were a creature from another planet. “From those options, what’s your best guess?”

Shrugging, taking her purse from its usual resting spot alongside the front door, she said, “Beats me. You’ll figure it out.”

“You’re leaving?” With more groans and a grunt, he staggered to his feet, holding the girls like footballs. “But I need you.”

“And considering how much overtime I’ve put in lately, I need a nice, long soak in my tub. Bye.”

Emma waited until she reached the stop sign at the end of the block to fall apart.

Leaving Bronwyn like that, in her obviously inept father’s care, had been nearly impossible. Tougher yet, pulling off the flippant attitude. Her every instinct had screamed to calm Bronwyn, to cater to the infant’s needs. But that wouldn’t help the girl long-term.

Jace needed on-the-job training—fast. And since Emma knew she wouldn’t be with the babies indefinitely, even more important than her primary job of giving the twins daily care was her secondary job of teaching their father how to do the same.

“HA!” At 6:00 a.m. the next morning, Jace tossed open his front door, in the process taking a year off Emma’s life. “Leaving like you did yesterday, you thought I couldn’t handle the girls, but I did.”

“Good for you,” she said, brushing past him. “And since you scared me to death, you’ll need to do it a lot more.”

“Oh, now, don’t go getting grumpy. It was just a joke. I saw you pull in, and couldn’t resist. Truce?” He held out his hand for her shake.

By habit, as she would with anyone, she met his hand, but no one else made her aware of every finger as if she’d been electrified. Freeing herself, she fidgeted with her purse. “I, um, suppose you’re ready to go.”

“Sure.” But instead of leaving, he stood there, blocking her into the corner of the entry hall. He towered over her. She should’ve felt trapped. Instead, her stomach fluttered at his nearness. His radiant heat. Discounting her body’s traitorous reaction, she said, “If you’ll…ah…let me pass, I’ll check on the girls.”

“Right.” The way he snapped into action, settling onto the sofa to lace his boots, made her think that during the few awkward seconds, he’d wanted to say something, but couldn’t. “Okay, well, since I’m ready, and you seem ready, I’ll leave everyone in your capable hands.”

Standing, he walked toward the back door that led into the garage.

“Have a nice day,” she said, and for whatever reason, followed him. Needing one last look at him to get her through the day? The thought was nonsensical, and, she realized thankfully, fleeting, as Jace had his back to her with his hand on the doorknob.

But then he turned, flashing that smile of his with all those strong white teeth. “You have a good day, yourself, Miss Emma.”

He winked.

She lost the power to breathe.

Chapter Six

“Sorry I’m late, but it wasn’t my fault.”

While Emma was in the midst of cooking peas to go along with the pork chops that were in the oven, Jace burst through the back door. The girls were in their high chairs, and while she’d been singing them silly lullabies, they’d been shrieking along, which must’ve been why she hadn’t heard his car pulling into the garage.

“What’s up with you always scaring me?” she asked, hand over her heart.

“I didn’t mean to—at least not this time.” He was back at it with his winking.

So was her stupid stomach with its fluttering. Apparently, it hadn’t gotten the memo about her intentions to steer clear of all men. Most especially, winking ones!

“Smells delicious in here.”

“Thanks. I hope you enjoy it.” With the wild rice already done, she plopped a butter pat into the peas, then sprinkled in basil and a touch of sugar. “And now that dinner’s done, I’ll get going.”

“Don’t you want to know where I’ve been? Why I was late? Because I wasn’t out chugging beer if that’s what you were thinking.”

It had been. Her disappointment in the regression of his fathering skills was what had her so grumpy. No way could it have anything to do with her attraction to him.

“What you do is none of my business. I just work here.”

Rolling his eyes, he barreled on with, “I was helping my friend Fossil fix a flat. Only we couldn’t get the lug nuts off, so—”

“Really,” she said, holding up her hands, “I don’t need to know. I trust that you haven’t been at your favorite bar. But even if you had, it’s none of my business.”

“True,” Jace said, “which makes my compulsion to prove I wasn’t out partying all the more ridiculous. I’m not sure what you’ve done to me. You’re like some odd mix between scolding nun and sex kitten. In either of your modes, I want to please you.”

“S-sex kitten?”

“Oh—I didn’t mean anything by that. Just that you’re hot. But then, no doubt that’s something you already know.”

“Dinner’s ready,” she said, handing each of the babbling girls a teething ring.

“You should stay and eat with us.”

“I’m not hungry, and the girls have already eaten.” Arms tightly folded, she tried to make herself immune to his cute little smile. The one aimed right at her.

“That’s now. What about later?” Approaching her, he droned on. “You going home to cook again? Nuke a TV dinner?”

“Why do you care?”

Laughing, he said, “Naturally, I want the woman caring for my children to be in top-notch health.”

“Um-hmm.” I’m ignoring you, she sang in her head. Bea had dropped her teething ring and was now pitching a fit.

Emma seized the opportunity to pick it up, busying herself washing it, then patting it dry.

“See?” His voice still held a teasing tone. “What if you’d been too weak from hunger to perform that simple task? As a mom to my kids—even a temporary one—you kind of hold an important position within the family.”

“That what we are?” she asked, returning the ring to Bea, and then slipping on oven mitts to remove the chops. The kitchen had grown uncomfortably warm. “A family?”

“Sort of. Is that bad?”

She cast him a dirty look.

“Now what did I do wrong?”

“If you don’t know, then forget it. If you want to grab a shower before dinner, it looks like you’ve got about four minutes before the rolls are done.”

With Jace in the shower, and the girls in their high chairs, Emma released the breath she only just now realized she’d been holding.

Why was she always so snappy around her employer? Biting off heads wasn’t her nature. But did he have to label them a family, when nothing could be further from the truth?

Too bad for her, this was a temp gig.

If Vicki showed up, Emma would be instantly out of a job. Moreover, with every passing day that she read to the girls and played peek-a-boo with them, washed and folded their tiny clothes, she grew perilously more attached. She hated her mother for suggesting Emma borrow a baby. Because with each minute that Emma fell more in love with her charges, her fear of losing them grew stronger.

And then there was Jace.

Infuriating one minute, adorable lug the next.

Even though she’d always loved cooking, having such an appreciative audience on which to hone her skills made preparing a meal all the more enjoyable. So then why had she been upset by his notion of them being a family?

Truthfully? Maybe because family was something she desperately craved, but feared she’d never have again. Worse, the past couple of nights that Jace had returned home, butterflies had jumped in her stomach the moment she heard his key in the door.

“Dreaming about my rock-hard abs?”

“What?” She snapped out of her trance just in time to catch him flexing a goofy muscle-man pose. Laughing, she almost swatted him with a dishrag, but the act would’ve been too forward. Intimate. She’d always wished she and Rick had had a more fun-loving relationship, but he hadn’t been that type, and she’d been too busy to push the issue.

“Nothing. I was just being stupid. Guess I’ve been around my lugheaded friends too much.”

“You’re fine,” she said, busying herself with the rolls, wishing those rock-hard abs of his weren’t quite as tempting as he’d teased. “I probably need to loosen up.”

“You think?” He laughed. Before she could formulate an intelligent retort, he asked, “I see I need to set one more place at the table, but what else can I do to help?”

For starters, he could head back to the other side of the room. When he was close like this, so near that if she’d wanted, she could rest her head against his shoulder, her mouth went dry and her pulse raced. She wasn’t attracted to him. More like unnerved. He was so different from any man she’d ever encountered. Jace was the sort of manly man she’d only read about in novels. As such, she wasn’t quite sure how to act around him. What should she do with her flighty hands or her eyes that were drawn to the breadth of his chest and the comma-shaped scar just beneath his right eye? And then there was the efficiency of his big hands.

“Um, I thought we’d already established the fact that I’m not staying for—”

The phone rang.

Jace reached to answer. “Hello? Hello?” Hanging up, he said, “This is, like, the third hang-up call this week.”

Sighing, he tilted his face toward the ceiling before looking to her. “Back to the subject at hand, you are staying for dinner.”

“No.” She’d already grown too close to the girls. Him. She had to have some separation. Clarity as to where her new family left off and reality began.

“What if I admitted the real reason I want you to stay?”

“O-kay,” she practically whispered.

“As lame as it sounds, I don’t want to be alone.”

“You mean on your own with the girls?”

Just then, Bronwyn did a whine-and-kick combo.

Emma spooned peas from the pan on the stove, checked to make sure they weren’t too hot, and then divided them between the girls.

Bronwyn dug right into hers, fisting them before globbing them into her mouth.

Beatrice, however, cautiously looked them over.

“No. Lately, I’m better with them—at least in regard to their physical maintenance. It’s the time after they’re asleep that bugs me.” Turning his back to her, he fished in the cabinet for a plate. “I can’t believe I’m even admitting this, but lately, when I’m alone, I get to dwelling on the uncertainty of my future. I used to have everything mapped out. Spend another few years in the Corps. Find a wife and settle down. Buy a great house and get a black dog and—”

“Why a black dog?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” he said with a laugh. “Guess I always wanted one ever since I was a little kid and my obnoxious neighbor, Brent Martin, got a black lab puppy for his eighth birthday. Every year after that, I asked for my own black lab puppy, but Mom’s a clean freak, and was afraid of our house being infested by fleas.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said, fighting the urge to physically comfort him. But that wasn’t such a great idea. After all, if she were back in her fast-paced Chicago office, she wouldn’t go hugging any of her cutthroat coworkers. Yeah, her conscience pointed out, but Stephen—the guy in the office down the hall—hadn’t exactly been the type to pour out his heart about puppy cravings. The fact that Jace was, only made him that much more appealing. Not that she was attracted to him in the physical sense, just that he was a nice guy. He would grow into a great father. “In your mother’s defense, I’ve heard fleas can be a nuisance.”

“Sure,” he teased while grabbing silverware and a napkin, “take my mother’s side. What is it with all of you women sticking together?”

“I thought I wasn’t staying for dinner?” she said, eyeing Jace’s latest addition to the table. Because truthfully, she wasn’t emotionally equipped to hear any more of his sweet stories. She was already perilously attached to his girls. Were she to grow a fondness for their father, too, it’d make her eventual departure that much harder to bear.

“How can you even think of leaving me at a time like this? I not only poured out my soul, but dissed my mom.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you’re as melodramatic as a jilted teen.”

“Maybe so,” he quipped with a dashing wink, “but I still don’t want to eat alone. Please stay? Not for the girls, but because with all of my pent-up puppy grief, I’m needing an extra serving of TLC.” The exaggerated baleful look he shot her was pure, playful fun.

“Oh, all right,” she finally caved, dragging out the chair opposite his. “But you’re serving me.”

“Deal,” he said, all smiles.

“And I’m not staying to do the dishes.”

“You won’t even help?”

She firmly shook her head.

“In that case…” he said, laughter lighting his eyes, “guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

That swat she’d wanted to give him earlier? She used her napkin to follow through!

“HOW’S IT GOING with the nanny?” Granola held open the door to Mahoney’s—their favorite deli.

It had been a few days since Jace and Em’s shared meal, and, though that night he had felt like they were at least on the verge of becoming friends, now, he wasn’t so sure. “All right, I guess.” As usual, the place decked out in pink and black fifties memorabilia, was packed. A jukebox blared Buddy Holly. The air smelled richly of cold cuts and cheeses and the famous brownies fresh-baked for dessert.

Located on Olive’s original main drag—as opposed to the strip mall, fast-food-lined new highway—Mahoney’s got not only locals for lunch but the tourists who shopped in the cutesy downtown stores. The streetscape had time-faded redbrick buildings, with plenty of white columns, shutters and flowerboxes perpetually filled with blooms. Live oaks drizzled in Spanish moss dotted each corner of the ten-block historic district.

Granola ordered a meatball sub.

And because Jace was too mentally exhausted to come up with his own order, he got the same. Armed with bottled waters and their order numbers, they managed to snag a table between five suited businessmen and two moms with four, noisy toddlers.

“Noticed you haven’t been around much.” Granola took a napkin from a chrome holder, and wiped at an oily smudge on the table. “The nanny keeping you at home?”

Jace shrugged. “Not really. I mean, when I’m out late, I can tell Emma’s not happy about it, but she never really says anything.”

“I wouldn’t sweat it. Women are weird.”

“You think I don’t know that? How else would I have ended up in this impossible situation? I get the feeling Em expects me to be this amazing super dad, but how the hell am I supposed to know what’s going on? Know what I mean?”

“Not really,” his pal said with a wince, “but I feel your pain. Any chance of you two hooking up?”

“No.”

“I thought you said she’s hot?”

Thankfully, Jace heard their numbers being called, which gave him an easy out for avoiding the subject.

Once they’d each downed about half of their meals, Granola said, “Ask me, you should start staying out extra late.”

“What’s that going to prove?” Jace took a swig of water. It didn’t help his indigestion.

“You know? You’re the man. The boss of her.”

“And…” Jace gestured for his friend to further explain.

“You’re king of your castle. Don’t let her push you around.”

Was that what was happening?

Jace didn’t think so. More a case of him wanting to better himself, not for Em, but the twins. For himself, so the guilt forever droning in his head would once and for all still.

“EMMA?” Three nights later, the girls were both screeching so loudly that Jace couldn’t tell if Emma had answered her home phone.

“Jace? It’s like two in the morning.” It was 2:11 a.m. to be exact. While pacing and jiggling and feeding and trying every trick in his limited parental bag for the past three hours, Jace had felt every second of the night.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sure where else to turn. I can’t figure out why, but the girls are flipping out. Got any ideas on what’s bugging them?”

“I’ll be right over.” The panic lacing her tone wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“Hey, no. I don’t want you driving at this time of night. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Don’t you think I would if I could? Have you checked them for fever? Have you burped them? Bronwyn hit those green beans pretty hard. Maybe she’s gassy, and Beatrice is picking up on her discomfort?”

“Like some kind of Twilight Zone twin thing?”

“No,” she said, now sounding impatient. “Like the basic human instinct to feed off someone else’s mood. Haven’t you ever been around a friend who’s down, and then you in turn get moody? Or, vice versa, if you’re in a funk, someone else’s celebration lifts you out of it?” Sighing, she added, “Anyway, I’ll be right over.”

“Forget it, Emma. I already told you I don’t want you on the roads at this hour. Do you know how many—”

Click.

She’d freakin’ hung up on him.

Accustomed to having his orders followed, Jace hit Redial only to hear Emma’s phone ring and ring. Great. Now, on top of his worries about the munchkins, he had to obsess over the nanny swerving into a ditch, or getting hit by a drunk or falling asleep at the wheel, or—

Good lord…

Putting his phone back on the charger, Jace returned to the girls.

He snatched them both up, along with their favorite fuzzy pink blankets. With the blankets sort of spread out, and both babies on top, he sat alongside them, patting their heads, then their backs and butts. Hell, if only he knew for sure how to burp a baby. Maybe he’d been doing it wrong?

Obviously, this whole parenting thing was turning him into a head case. Em was a grown woman. Capable in anything he’d seen her try. And stubborn. She’d handle the twenty-minute drive just as she’d expertly handled everything else since taking over the running of his humble home.

Eighteen minutes later, Emma’s car lights reflected off the few odd pictures hanging on the living-room wall. With the babies still wailing, not even during his Middle East stints had Jace been more grateful for back-up.

Leaving the girls on their pink blanket pallet, he hopped up to greet Emma at the door. Pulling it open, he pulled her into a brief, but heartfelt hug.

“Thank God,” he said over the racket. “I thought you’d never get here.”

“Thought you didn’t want me out driving at night?” She grinned before darting into the living room.

Plopping cross-legged between the girls, she scooped one up, then the other. “Hey,” she crooned, her voice cotton-soft. “What’s the problem? You’re freaking out your father.”

Beatrice paused long enough to hiccough.

Bronwyn kept right on screaming.

“Did you burp them?” Emma asked.

“I’ve burped, rocked, fed, walked—nothing helps. Should we take them to the ER?”

“Well…” she set down Bronwyn before feeling Bea’s forehead and belly. She did the same with the girl’s twin. “They don’t seem to have a fever. Have they thrown up or had diarrhea?”

Jace shook his head.

“Humph.” Emma frowned. “In my expert opinion, there’s only one thing left we can do.”

Chapter Seven

“I’ve done some crazy things in my life,” Jace said, “but this tops them all.”

“Welcome to the joys of parenthood,” Emma quipped from behind her Volvo’s wheel. A whiny kiddie CD blared, but after driving around and around Olive’s empty, tree-lined streets for the past thirty minutes, Jace would’ve been happy to hear a jackhammer over more crying.

Far-off lightning lit the western sky.

“How’d you learn this trick?”

“Driving around?” She shrugged. “Read about it somewhere. Best as I can remember, infants find the car’s sound and rhythm relaxing.”

“Of course.” Jace thumped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Emma took one hand off the wheel to cover a yawn.

“Want me to drive?”

She shot him a sideways smile. “If I can’t trust you to take care of these two for a few hours, why would I trust you with my car?”

“Ha-ha.”

“Actually, we can probably head back. They seem to be zonked to the world.”

“Then this shouldn’t wake them,” he said, turning off the wretched CD. The damn thing could be put to equally good use as a form of psychological warfare.

Silence. Lord, what a beautiful thing.

“Success,” she said, turning onto the main thoroughfare leading back to the base.

“Sorry.” He covered a yawn.

“For what?”

“Being such an incompetent when it comes to these two. When I couldn’t get them to stop crying, I can’t even explain the panic I was feeling. A kind of desperation I’m not equipped to deal with.”

“You did okay. Anyone in your shoes would’ve had a tough time.”

“You didn’t.”

“This time. Who knows? Next time, it might be me calling you to hightail it home from work.”

Not bloody likely, Jace thought, again wondering how she’d gotten to be so good at this whole parenting thing, having never had her own child.

“THANKS, but I’ll just head home.” Jace had invited Emma to stay at his place for the rest of the night, but Emma’s heart told her that would be a bad idea. Just as being so near him in the car had been. As for that hug he’d greeted her with, was it wrong that her body still hummed with awareness? The intimacy of the small space in the car had done something to her, as had being awake at a time when she normally would have been dreaming. Her senses had been heightened, making her hyperaware of every little thing. The heat of his upper arm brushing against hers. His scent. Sweat. Bay rum aftershave. Baby lotion and powder.

A flash of lightning shone through the window. Thunder rolled.

“Ridiculous,” he said, dragging linens from a hall closet. “Especially since it’s about to rain.”

Together, they’d already put the babies in their cribs.

“You really need to stop being so bossy where I’m concerned.”

“Yeah, but aren’t I the boss?” In his room, he made fast work of stripping the existing sheets and blanket. “You crash in here. I’ll take the couch.”

“But—” she yawned.

“See?”

“Okay,” she said over a fresh roll of thunder. “You’re right. I’m exhausted. But seeing as how you have to fly tomorrow and all I have to do is change diapers and read picture books, I’m taking the couch.”

“Do you always have to be so obstinate?”

Taking mismatched sheets and a crazy quilt from the hall closet, Emma aimed for the couch. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Have a problem with that?”

“What I’m having a problem with is standing here fighting with you when we could be sleeping.”

Point to Jace. “You’re right. Sorry. Truce?”

“Depends.”

Thunder boomed loudly enough to rattle the picture frames.

She cocked her left eyebrow. “On what?”

“Can I wrangle a couple of your amazing fried eggs in the morning?

Covering another yawn, she said, “Deal.”

THE NEXT THING Emma remembered was a sliver of sun tickling her nose, along with the scent of frying bacon. And something sweet. Pancakes?

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, frowning.

Instead of being on the couch where she’d drifted off to sleep, she was in Jace’s bed. Pushing back the covers, she stormed sleepy-eyed into the sun-flooded kitchen.

The twins sat gumming teething biscuits in their high chairs. The orange goo already on their faces tipped her off to the fact that this was their second course.

“Where’s your father?” she asked, taking a fresh dishcloth from the bottom drawer, wetting it with warm water, and then performing a quick clean-up.

“Arrgghaalaaa,” Bronwyn said.

“Gaaagroola,” Beatrice added.

“Oh,” Emma couldn’t help but laugh, “thank you for that insightful answer.”

“To what?” Jace asked. “I didn’t even hear the question.”

Still grinning, despite her consternation with him, Emma said, “Good morning. My question wasn’t for you, but your daughters. Judging by their responses, I’m thinking you’ve got a couple of brainiacs on your hands.”

“You’d expect less, considering I’m a major contributor to their gene pool?”

“Ahh…” she nodded. “That explains a lot. Like how they eat with their fingers and love sucking their toes.”

“You’d better watch that sass,” Jace teased, opening the oven door. “Your nanny skills might be top-notch, but you can be replaced.”

Though Emma knew Jace had been joking about his threat, the reminder that all of this domestic bliss was temporary still hurt.

“Ta-daa.” Jace waved a cookie sheet laden with pancakes and bacon. His oven mitts made him look more like Mister Mom than a macho Marine pilot. Had he always been so cute? Or was she just so hungry that anyone brandishing a delicious meal would’ve looked good? “Breakfast is served.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” she said, “but wasn’t I supposed to cook? And why aren’t you at work? And while you’re answering questions, how did I end up in your bed?”

“Whoa. One issue at a time. As for why I’m home, I got a call that there’s storm debris in my rotors. Since it’ll take at least a couple hours to clear, I figured I might as well hang around here till the mess is clean.”

“Okay. Back to the issue of me waking up somewhere I didn’t fall asleep?”

“Easy. During the worst of the storm, I got up to close a few windows, and saw you contorted into a torturous position. Knowing you had a full day ahead of you, I moved you.”

Oh God…Her pulse was surely beating faster than Jace’s rotors. “But where did you—”

“Relax. I slept on the couch.”

“Oh.” Guilt slammed her for having instantly thought the worst.

“That’s right, oh. I can tell by your stricken expression that you were about to let me have it, thinking the worst, but see? I’m a gentleman through and through. I rescued you from a serious morning neckache.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, interested in some pancakes, then hanging with me and my girls until I get an all-clear from my commander?”

Was it wrong that Emma couldn’t think of a more pleasant way to pass the morning than with Jace and his girls? “Yes, please. I’d like lots of pancakes. I’m starving.”

“THEY’RE kind of boring.” Jace winced when his comment earned him an elbow jab to his ribs. Having finished breakfast and cleaning the mess he’d made cooking, Jace and Emma now shared a park bench. The twins kicked and cooed on a blanket Emma had spread beneath a live oak’s dappled shade. The day was gorgeous, the slight cool front a gift from last night’s storm.

“They’re babies,” Emma said. “What do you want them to do?”

“I’m just saying that a little game of catch might be fun. Some sandbox action. GI Joes are awesome.”

“Patience. They’ll grow up fast enough.”

“I suppose.” He kicked a pebble.

“Heard anything from your PI?”

“Nope.” He tilted his head back, drinking in the sun. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“Think Vicki’s coming back?” Something about Emma’s tone had Jace glancing her way. Her question didn’t strike him as casual conversation, but almost as if she had a personal stake in whether Vicki ever showed.

“Tough to say. Wonder if she even misses them?”

“Would you?” she asked, plucking a weed from alongside the bench, and then stripping the leaves.

“What? Miss the girls?”

She nodded.

“Truth?” He stared at the twins. “On some levels, yes. I’d miss their cute little grins. The way their whole faces light up when they’re happy. But then part of me would be relieved. The thought of raising one kid is scary enough, but two? Sometimes, I’m not sure I can pull it off.”

“Of course you can.” Angling to face him, she said, “Let’s break it down. How many times since you’ve had the twins—aside from the crying jag, which would’ve driven anyone bonkers—have you felt out of control?”

Shrugging, he said, “Don’t waste your breath trying to psyche me out or pump me up. I mean, unless you’ve had kids yourself, you can’t even imagine what I’m going through.”

Emma looked away, as if he’d hurt her feelings.

“Hey,” he said, softening his tone, “I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not doing a great job with the girls, just that seeing how this is just a temporary thing for you, it’s no biggee. You can walk away.”

Emma stood, turning her back to him. “W-we should probably be getting back. I don’t want the babies getting too much sun.”

“Sure. That debris has probably been picked up by now, too.”

She made quick work of settling the girls in their stroller, then picking up their toys and shaking grass from their blanket. After folding it, without a word, she tucked it in the diaper bag stored in the stroller’s trunk—or whatever the back-basket thingie was called.

After they’d walked halfway home with Emma still giving him the silent treatment, Jace asked, “Mind telling me what I did to tick you off?”

“What do you mean?” Had her voice been any icier, he could make a freakin’ snow cone. “I’m fine.”

And I’m the Easter Bunny.

WITH JACE blessedly gone, Emma placed a sleepy Bronwyn in her crib, and then sat in the rocking recliner with Bea, holding on to her for all she was worth. Breathing the infant in, memorizing every curve of her chubby feet and tummy and fingers.

How many times in under a minute had Jace unintentionally slammed her? How dare he imply she didn’t know about the responsibilities that stemmed from raising a child? Every day she lived with the fear that maybe Rick had been right. She had somehow been to blame for Henry’s death. Even though she knew in her head that nothing could be further from the truth, her heart was another matter.

Her heart, it seemed, would never grant her peace. At least, it hadn’t until she’d taken this job. Until caring for two infants and their father had consumed so much of her energy she hadn’t had time to dwell on the past.

When Jace had said she could easily walk away from him and the girls, her chest had tightened to the point she’d feared she might be having a heart attack. No. The more she was with Bea and her sister, the deeper she fell into their spell. The more Emma needed to care for them. It had become like a drug. A wonderful, peace-inducing narcotic that told her she was a great mom. That Rick had been a fool for ever believing otherwise.

But then seeing how quickly she’d grown attached to her charges, who was the real fool? Emma knew she never should’ve taken the job. But now that she had, she’d fight with everything in her never to let the girls go.

The phone rang, making Emma happy for the temporary reprieve from her racing thoughts, but when she answered, no one was there.

Hours passed, giving Emma time to regain her composure. Something that lately, she’d struggled with.

She packed up the girls and went to the store.

Bought ingredients for a stir fry.

Back home, with the girls banging on pots and pans at her feet, she wiled away the afternoon slicing and dicing and making a feast she hoped would deter Jace from thinking about how odd she’d been that morning.

When she finally heard the click of his key in the front door, she called out with forced cheer, “Hey! Hope you’re hungry.”

“Whoa.” Staring at the virtual Chinese buffet of food she’d spread across the counter he grinned. “Remind me to give you a raise.”

“Not necessary,” she said, quivery with relief that he’d apparently forgotten her earlier funk.

“Where are the hoodlums?”

“They both crashed early. After our trip to the store, they ransacked the kitchen, they ate, had baths then were out.”

“Sounds like a good day.” He snagged an egg roll. “You feeling better?”

“Excuse me?” She stood at the sink, gripping the scrub pad so hard it bit into her palms.

“This morning you were a little weird.”

“Sorry. I, um, had a wicked headache.”

“Sure.” Taking a piece of Mongolian beef, and popping it in his mouth, he chewed and swallowed before adding, “I figured it was something like that, because I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong.”

“Consider yourself a good judge of women, do you?” She spooned steamed rice from a pan to a serving dish.

“I’m all right.”

“Vicki being a case in point?”

As he’d just crammed his third egg roll into his mouth, he couldn’t formulate a comeback.

“Because—forgive me if I’m wrong—but it seems to me that you might’ve had a communication breakdown somewhere during the course of your six-hour relationship.”

“Oh, you got me on that one.” He took a plate from the cabinet. “Really funny.”

“Then why aren’t you smiling?”

He made a face. “Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

Grabbing a plate for herself, grinning in his direction, she said, “Probably. But I’m hungry, so I think I’ll eat first.”

Jace took the platter of egg rolls and a bowl filled with Mongolian beef and set them on the table. He helped himself to the chair in front of the food.

Emma joined him.

He asked, “Thought you didn’t like eating here?”

“I changed my mind.” Especially since the more attached she grew to the twins, the more reluctant she was to leave. She scooped rice onto her plate, followed by samplings of the other dishes. When Jace was still silent, she said, “Sorry about the Vicki dig.”

“I appreciate the apology, but guess I had it coming. I’ve never been that irresponsible before.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why were you then?”

He finished chewing his latest bite. “Wish I had a respectable answer for you, but the truth is that I got caught up in the moment. I’m not proud, but there it is.”

Keeping her eyes focused on her plate, Emma forked her next bite, willing her flaming cheeks back to normal. Having always been a planner—most especially in the areas of love-making, it had never even occurred to her to engage in spur-of-the-moment sex. She and Rick had actually built sex into their schedules. Saturday night at eleven—assuming they didn’t have other commitments.

Once, in her freshman year in college, she’d had a little too much to drink at a frat party, and suggested to her date that they go up to his room. He’d seemed all for it until his ex intercepted them. In the morning, part of Emma had been relieved about the aborted encounter.

But another part…

The one secretly intrigued by the thought of not always being a Good Girl, had wondered what if? What if she had gone for it? Might it have spun her life into an unexpected direction?

“What’s got you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing. Why would you think I was?”

The grin he aimed her way was devastatingly sexy. Thoroughly befuddling. Brimming with strong, white teeth, framed by whisker-stubbled squared jaws. “The lady doth protest too much.”

More accurately, The lady hath stopped breathing.

“My prim and proper nanny is thinking about sex, isn’t she?”

“Now you’ve really gone too far.” Pushing back her chair, she busied herself—and hid an even deeper reddening of her cheeks—by clearing the table.

“Probably.” He took an egg roll, biting an inch off the end. “But judging by your hasty exit, I’m right.”

Chapter Eight

The second Jace said the words, he regretted them. Moreover, he regretted the awkward silence. Clearing his throat, he manned-up by going over to Emma as she stood in front of the sink, staring out at the inky backyard. With barely a half inch between them, he wanted to touch her, but refrained. “I didn’t mean that. It was a stupid thing to say. Something the guy I used to be would’ve seen as…” Cramming his hands in his pockets, he came up with, “I don’t know, flirtatious—if that’s even something a guy can be. Now, it just made me sound immature. Not like the father of two beautiful girls, but like some Don Juan wannabe who missed the mark.”

She sort of laughed.

“You agree?”

“A little, but…” she turned on the faucet, scrubbing furiously at a wok he’d never even seen.

“Did you buy that pan?”

“Uh-huh.” Between all of the baby gear she’d lugged into the house, along with exotic foods and cleaning supplies, he owed her a small fortune.

“Give me the receipt, and I’ll pay you back.”

“That’s not necessary.”

From the makeshift nursery erupted a wail.

“You finish up in here,” she said, “I’ll check on the girls.”

“What if I want to check on them?” he protested, eyeing the pile of dishes.

“Tough.” She smiled sweetly, then turned to leave the room. “Cook’s prerogative to call the lesser of two evils.”

“Bea,” Emma said a minute later, taking the bawling infant from her crib, “sometimes your daddy is exasperating.”

By faint lamplight, Bea stopped crying long enough to hiccup, bewitching Emma with her gorgeous green eyes.

“Do you agree?”

Of course, Emma got no answer, but it was some consolation that at least she had other females in the house with whom she could commiserate.

While changing Bea’s smelly diaper, Emma found herself vastly relieved that Jace had turned his attention to a topic other than the one that had set her heart racing.

She’d been on the verge of admitting that Jace needn’t apologize because his assumption had been correct. She hadn’t only been thinking about sex, but more specifically—and a thousand times more irrationally—she’d found herself jealous of Vicki. Not only for having been free enough with her emotions to let loose and be wild, but for coming away from the experience with the ultimate prize.

Fastening the tabs on Bea’s diaper, Emma whispered to the still-staring infant, “How did your mother ever let you go?”

“Argggulaaa.”

Grinning over the baby’s reply, Emma said, “You’re wise beyond your years.” Scooping her up, hugging her close, Emma swallowed hard at the sudden knot in her throat. If Bea and her sister were hers, Emma would move heaven and earth to keep them forever.

What about their father? Would you keep him, too?

Her cheeks flamed.

“Everything all right in here?” Speaking of the devil, Jace blocked the entry, casting shadows where a moment earlier there had been ambient light.

“Great,” Emma said, cupping the warm and downy crown of Bea’s head. “Finish the dishes?”

“Just about. I’m on break.” He winked.

Emma’s traitorous stomach somersaulted.

“It’s pretty late,” he noted, turning his back on her, heading for the kitchen. “You staying over again tonight?”

“No.” Bea still in her arms, Emma followed. “Meaning, I should probably hand this angel to you, then be on my way.”

“You know you’re welcome to stick around, don’t you?”

She nodded, swallowing the irrational fear that came from giving up the baby—even for the night.

Kissing the top of Bea’s head, Emma held the infant out to him, but he shook his head. “Wait a sec. I noticed when I came in that somewhere in your travels you found a mess of bugs. Let me clean your windshield. It’s tough seeing through guts at night.”

“I’ve got plenty of that squirty-washing fluid.”

“I’m sure,” he said, already on his way to the garage, “but let me give it a quick scrubbing first.”

“Jace,” she protested, trailing after him into the hot and muggy space. The air smelled of gasoline and oil and a little like the chopped grass still clinging to the lawn mower. Even parked, his red Mustang was downright sexy. Meaning, more than ever, she needed to go. “Really, I can—”

“Woman,” he said, pressing a button that sent the automatic garage door up with a rumble, “how much have you done for me since we’ve met?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping score.”

“Well, I have, and I’m losing.” He raised his hand, almost as if planning on patting her shoulder or skimming her hair. But then, as if he’d thought better of it, he crammed both hands into his jeans pockets. “Now, before I have to get all Marine on you, get yourself and that munchkin back inside and out of this heat.”

Emma did as she’d been told, to escape not the night’s heat, but the internal warmth she felt from Jace’s consideration. No one—least of all, her ex-husband—had ever cared whether her car windows were too dirty to be safe.

“Your daddy is a pretty sweet guy, Miss Bea.”

The infant grinned and gurgled.

Emma rewarded her with a hug and kiss.

Five minutes later, Jace returned. “You’re cleared for take-off.”

“Thanks,” she said, attempting a salute. “The insects down here are pretty intense.”

“No kidding,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well…” Emma needed to hand him Beatrice, but couldn’t quite make herself do it.

“Ready for me to take her?” Jace offered, holding out his arms.

“Um, sure.” During the passing process, Emma ignored excited tingles as she brushed forearms with Jace. His muscles were bronzed and the short hairs golden and sun-kissed.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, the baby in his arms.

“Bright and early.” Forcing herself to the front door, she opened it and stepped out onto the porch.

Jace followed. “You know you can stay.”

She nodded.

“Just think of all the gas money you’d save.”

Not to mention the luxury of never having to leave the girls.

“I’ll think about it,” she shouted, midway to her car. Trouble was, if she thought too hard, she knew she’d cave. She wouldn’t just stay the night, but move in, as Jace had originally intended. Only how pathetic would that be, to borrow not only a man’s children, but his home? She wasn’t truly that needy, was she? That desperate for solace? For confirmation that she’d done everything for Henry that she possibly could?

Sadly, climbing into her car, she realized that, yes, she was by the day—the hour—growing more desperate for absolution from the horror Rick had accused her of. Worse yet, the only time she felt sane was when she was with the twins, and most especially, their father.

“I DON’T KNOW,” Jace said, scratching his head. “It’s an awful lot of money.” Saturday, when he could be watching baseball, Emma had dragged him to a warehouse furniture store out on the highway, claiming the babies’ room had to have an upholstered swivel rocker. The canned music playing over the store’s intercom was giving him a headache—not to mention the high-pressure tactics of the salesman tracking their every move. “And what happens if Vicki shows up? I’m stuck with a girly chair my guys will laugh me out of the Corps for having in my den.”

“Yes, well, forgive me for pointing this out,” Emma said, her sarcastic tone and know-it-all expression warning of trouble approaching, “but your den is now a nursery. Even if Vicki does show up, don’t you want partial custody? For that matter, maybe even full, seeing as how abandoning your twins—twins she failed to ever even tell you existed—doesn’t exactly open her up for a Mother-of-the-Year nomination.”

“Let me know how you really feel about Vicki.” He winked.

She elbowed his ribs, then turned to the salesman, who was trying unsuccessfully to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping. “What do you have in yellow? Maybe with pink or white flowers?”

The tallish, thinnish, twentysomething guy consulted a pocket notebook, scribbled something, then said, “Emma, Jace, ladies, let’s move this show to the children’s area.”

Emma, pushing the stroller, followed the salesman’s lead.

The guy’s red eyebrows matched his red hair. As an aside, the way he kept calling Emma by name was seriously starting to piss Jace off. Ingratiating sales tactic or not, the guy needed to give them space to make their own decisions.

An acre of overpriced furniture later, the guy stopped in front of a pink plastic bunk bed. “This is part of our Princess line. Now, if you buy two or more pieces, I can cut you a better deal than the price tags say.”

“I thought you were showing us a chair?” Emma asked.

“The chairs for the line are special order. But if—”

Jace interjected, “Would it be possible for us to just stroll?”

“Sure,” the guy said, “which areas do you want to visit?”

“How about when we find a chair we like,” Jace suggested, “we’ll find you.”

“That would be fine,” he said, “but we’re paid by commission only, so I’m required to stay with you.”

Jace started to say something else, but Emma cupped her hand around his forearm. “That’s okay. Please just show us everything you have by way of pink or flowers.”

Ten chairs and no patience later, Emma found the floral cupcake of a chair that she wanted. Trouble was, the price was about five hundred bucks more than Jace wanted to pay.

Tugging Emma aside, barricading themselves from the salesman with the enormous stroller, he said, “I know this is the one you want, but the cost is—”

“Let me buy it,” she whispered. “It’s my gift to you and the girls.”

“It’s too much. And I can buy my own furniture.”

“Of course you can. I’m just saying that if you let me get this, you can get the paint and curtains and pictures and everything else the room is going to need to become a real nursery.”

“Last I heard,” he whispered back, adopting her high-and-mighty tone, “all a room needs to qualify as a nursery is a baby. And as luck would have it, we have two.”

“W-we?” Her voice trembled.

“You know what I mean. We’re a team, right?”

“Only if you let me buy the girls this chair. I promise, you can pay for everything else.”

“Deal,” he relented, if for no other reason than to get out from under the salesman’s watchful eyes. “Just one question.”

“Shoot.” She raised her chin.

“Why does a chair mean so much to you? Can’t you just rock the girls in my recliner like you have been doing?”

“Sure. But it wouldn’t be the same.”

“As what?”

Sales Guy said, “If the price is too high, I can come down fifty, but that’s as much as my manager will allow.”

“We’ll take it,” Emma said.

Jace dropped the issue for now, but made a mental note to later get to the bottom of why, all of the sudden, his daughters’ nanny was consumed by a chair.

“THIS IS a momentous occasion,” Jace cracked from where he stood on the front porch, finishing off a protein bar. Three days had passed since their shopping trip, and while it seemed to him that Emma was slowly but steadily loosening up around him, this was still a big deal. “You’re actually three minutes late.”

“I’m sorry. Traffic was backed up on Birch, and then—”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. I’m teasing. Your lateness is actually a little exciting.”

“Exciting?” Even rolling her eyes, she looked pretty in the soft morning sun. The neighbor had his sprinkler running, heightening the sweet scent of grass glistening with dew.

Jace liked the way Em always wore sundresses and fancy sandals. Most women he knew were heavy on the shorts, T-shirts and flip-flops. Em was always a little formal. “How many combat missions have you fought? Lives have you witnessed being saved or lost? Yet me showing up late for work is significant?”

Jace couldn’t help but grin. “Can I help it if discovering you’re not perfect gives me hope that I might one day attain your parenting glory?”

Nudging him out of her way, she barreled past. “You’re a mess.”

“That would be a recovering mess, thank you very much.” Following her, he caught a whiff of floral shampoo.

What he wouldn’t have done to pull her back, stealing just a moment to bury his face in her hair, losing himself in her spell. Since the very idea was nuts, he cleared his throat, asking, “You and the girls doing anything special today?”

The phone rang.

“Hold that thought,” he said, jogging into the kitchen. Picking up, he said into the receiver, “Hello?”

Seconds passed.

“Hello? Dammit, I hear you breathing. Hello?” He slammed down the phone. “If this prank calling doesn’t stop, I’m calling the cops. Has this ever happened to you?”

“A couple of times, but there’s never been anyone on the line.”

“Next time it happens, write it down. I want every call documented.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a sassy salute.

He glared. “I’m serious. With you and the babies’ safety to consider, I can’t be—”

“Would you listen to yourself? I hardly think there’s some crazed stalker on the line. Probably more like a bored teen or confused grandmother who keeps dialing the wrong number.”

Jace’s only reply was a manly grunt.

“Since you asked—hint, hint on changing the subject. No, the girls and I aren’t doing anything particularly special today. Just the usual. A walk in the park. Trip to the grocery store—which reminds me, do you need anything? I’m picking up the basics, but do you still have plenty of those ice-cream bars you like?”

“I’m running low,” he said. “Thanks for remembering.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“What?” She set her purse on the entry-hall floor.

“Take such great care of me. The twins are the only ones who need looking after.”

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “Sure about that? When I first got here, your fridge was bare, and everything was a mess. The yard is still a disaster—leading me to wonder what kind of Marine are you? I thought you were all about clean-cut precision?”

“We are, but seeing how back in high school it was my job to mow my folks’ five acres and help Mom in her vegetable garden and flower beds, I now despise yard work.”

“Makes sense,” Emma said on her way to the nursery.

He should be leaving, but instead, he followed her. “Does the yard’s lackluster state bother you?”

“I was thinking of adding some color. You know, some annuals to brighten up the place.”

“Want to go get flowers tonight?”

“Sure, but I didn’t mean to add extra work to your schedule. I can handle it.”

“Oh,” he said with a snort, “I’m fully aware of the fact that you can handle just about anything, but that does nothing to soothe my battered male ego. Mission Spruce Up the Yard will commence sharply at five-fifteen.” Snatching his keys and wallet from the kitchen counter, he added, “Kindly have yourself and the girls ready to roll.”

“HOW ABOUT THESE?” Emma suggested at a nearby garden center that afternoon, holding up a flat of hot-pink impatiens.

Wrinkling his nose, Jace said, “Woman, don’t you think your pink chair in my den has been damaging enough to my bachelor pad?”

“Your bachelor pad is now a family home, but in the spirit of everyone feeling comfortable—even lugheads like you—we’ll get red.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jace said. “I think.”

In their stroller—piloted by Jace—the girls napped in golden late-afternoon sun.

“You’re welcome.” She winked.

“Actually, let’s pick up a couple of flags, too. The base is having its annual air show in a couple weeks, and I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to spruce up the place.”

“That’s the spirit,” she patted his back, but regretted it when now-familiar tingles of attraction swept through her. “Let’s grab a couple of hanging ferns, too.”

Back home, while Jace mowed the backyard, and the twins stared at each other in their playpen that had been moved to the front porch, Emma planted flowers. Most women she’d known in her former life had worn gloves to perform such a task, or had asked their lawn service company to do the planting. Emma had always preferred touching her hands to the cool soil, smelling the rich earth and flowers’ perfume.

How idyllic the scene was, with fireflies floating amongst lacy Spanish moss. What Emma would give for even a fraction of the fairy tale to be real. Though Jace hadn’t mentioned it lately, she knew from her daily gathering of the mail that he was still working with a PI to track Vicki. What would happen when he found her? Would he demand she take back their children? Or, by then would he have fallen so deeply under their spell that he’d refuse to let them go?

The mower went off, and along with the sudden silence came a shiver of excitement. Soon, Jace would be with her again. Their bantering had become a kind of sport, one she very much looked forward to playing.

The mower wheels clacked across the gravel drive. Closing her eyes, Emma envisioned Jace pushing it up the small ramp leading into the shed, his biceps and forearms and face sweat-sheened. Funny how on their initial meeting she hadn’t found Jace all that attractive. Now, however…

Heat rose up her neck, flushing her face to the point that she used her hands as fans.

Whistling around the corner of the house, Jace stopped at the foot of the porch chairs, smiling at the hanging ferns and row of freshly planted pots. “Damn. This looks nice. Why didn’t we do this a while ago?”

“Maybe because you don’t like yard work?” she teased.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Nodding toward the weed-choked flower bed, he asked, “Think we can hammer this out before dark?”

“Sure, but what’s got you so ambitious?”

“This’ll probably sound lame, but honestly, you look so happy, I just want to keep you smiling.”

Her throat instantly tightened.

“Hey,” he complained, “what’s with the sudden frown?”

Shaking her head, Emma had no words for the gratitude flowing through her. She barely knew this man, yet a part of her credited him and his babies with bringing her back to life. It’d been years since she’d played in the dirt, feeling the cool texture against her skin, inhaling the rich scent. And the flowers…the sweet, sweet flowers.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she lied. “It’s just been a while since anyone has cared whether I smile. It means a lot.”

“Your help with the girls means a lot.”

“Then we’re even.” To squelch the urge to hug him, she picked up a spade. Forcing a smile, she asked, “Ready?”

He half laughed, but it wasn’t a particularly happy sound. “I seriously want to know what the last man in your life did to make you so sad.”

Chapter Nine

“I—I don’t know what you mean.” Emma couldn’t fathom why Jace would say such a thing. Yes, in the time they’d known each other, he’d made some outrageous comments, but this one topped them all.

“Guess it’s none of my business,” he said, squatting alongside the flower bed to pluck a handful of weeds. “But, seriously, Em, sometimes I get the feeling that you’re somehow bruised. You know, like, inside.”

“I’m not. I’m fine. If I weren’t, would you even trust me with your girls?”

“Oh, now, don’t go getting your panties in a wad. Hell, I’ve got my own skeletons banging around my closets.” He pulled another handful of weeds. “Do you honestly think you’re alone in having a past?”

“No, I just don’t want to talk about it. I think it’d be best if we kept our relationship purely professional.”

She pulled especially hard on a rogue plant that turned out to be covered in thorns. “Ouch!”

“You all right?”

“Fine,” she snapped, nursing her throbbing wounds.

He captured her right hand, turning it to inspect her palm. “You’re bleeding. Let’s table this mission for tonight, and get the girls inside and you bandaged up.”

“I already told you,” she said, “I’m fine.”

Grinning, he teased, “Yes, you are, but that kind of fine has nothing to do with your wounds.”

“YOU’VE ALREADY done too much,” Emma complained from her cozy nest on Jace’s sofa while he popped in a DVD. Her many cuts had been deep, warranting a good cleaning. Jace had then bandaged her, putting her in no shape to cook. He’d made chili dogs, cutting them into bite-sized chunks for the girls—who were now covered head-to-toe in chili and cheese.

“Considering all you do for us, relax. Let me wait on you for a little while.”

“But the girls need a bath.”

“I’m sure this will shock you, but I think I can handle it.”

Emma stuck out her tongue.

She didn’t doubt for a second that Jace was perfectly capable of bathing the girls, but it irked her to no end that because of her own stupidity, she was missing out on one of her most favorite parts of the day.

“You’re pouting,” Jace said, leaving the kitchen with both filthy girls in his arms. “Wanna at least supervise?”

All smiles, Emma said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“THIS IS so sweet of you,” Emma said Friday afternoon to her unexpected company, accepting a gift basket. The woman had introduced herself as Pam, wife of Jace’s friend, Granola. Otherwise known as Will. Why none of Jace’s friends went by their real names was beyond her. Emma chalked it up to being a Marine thing. “I love cranberries in anything, but muffins are my favorite. These look delicious.”

“My pleasure,” Pam said, scooping Bea from her playpen. “Sorry it’s taken me so long to stop by. I’ve been meaning to for the longest, but you know how time slips away.”

Emma, holding Bronwyn, smiled and nodded.

“These guys have grown since the last time I saw them.”

Laughing, Emma said, “I swear they change overnight and look different each morning when I report for work.”

“Judging by your glow,” Pam said, easing onto the sofa, “caring for the twins is more of a labor of love than work.”

“Guilty,” Emma said, grinning while setting the muffin basket on the coffee table, and then joining Pam on the sofa. “This position is a dream come true.”

“I’m glad.” Pam jiggled Bea on her lap. “When Jace first suggested hiring a nanny, I hoped he’d find someone like you.”

Pam’s praise sank Emma’s stomach. As much as she loved the girls, could she in all honesty claim she’d taken the job only for their benefit?

“How’d you hurt your hand?” Pam asked, nodding toward Emma’s bandage.

Emma relayed the story.

“Good thing Jace was here. I’d have hated for you to have to care for yourself and the babies.”

“I’d have managed.”

“I’m sure.” Pam’s tone was kindly, making Emma feel guilty for her short answer. “But it’s always nice to have help.”

“True.” Anxious to change the subject before Pam somehow needled out of her just how much Emma had enjoyed Jace’s company the previous night, she said, “It’s such a pretty day, how about we sit on the porch?” What she didn’t say was that under Pam’s inquisitive stare, Jace’s living room had grown uncomfortably close.

“Sure.”

Once the girls were settled on a blanket beneath the magnolia’s shade, Emma and Pam shared the porch swing, each with lemonade and a muffin. As usual, the neighbor’s sprinkler swished and a light breeze stirred the air just enough to make the sunny day bearable.

“According to my husband, Jace talks about you all the time.”

“He does?” Emma’s pulse skipped.

“Jace is like a brother to me, so I wanted to meet you for myself. You know—” she winked “—see if the sparks are mutual.”

“Um…” Emma cleared her throat. “I, ah, haven’t—”

“I’m sorry,” Pam said, leaning forward to pat Emma’s knee. “I’m on my own so much with Will out on missions, that I’ve turned into a closet romantic. I blame it on too many romance novels and Lifetime TV.”

“That’s okay,” Emma said, tracing one of the daisies on her summery capris.

“No. I really need to mind my own business—especially where Jace is concerned. It’s just that he’s had such a tough time of it when it comes to love.”

“We’re friends. Nothing more.”

Just thinking of Jace’s smile flamed Emma’s cheeks. Okay, so she was attracted to the man. But it wasn’t a big deal. She was perfectly capable of remaining professional.

Pam sighed. “That’s probably just as well. After what Jace’s last steady put him through, I’ve gotten the impression he’s damaged goods.”

“Really?” Eyebrows raised, Emma said, “I find him amazing. Kind and caring and patient.”

“No doubt because you aren’t romantically involved. You look at what happened with Vicki, and that pretty much tells you his thoughts on commitment.”

On the street, a trio of boys on bikes passed. They carried Star Wars–style plastic light sabers and shouted at each other while stabbing.

The curious babies poked their heads up like turtles, searching for the source of the noise.

“They’re so adorable,” Pam said. “They make me want a pair of my own.”

“I know what you mean,” Emma murmured. After a few minutes of companionable silence, she said, “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to Jace to make him commitment-leery?”

Pam opened her mouth as if about to speak, but then clamped it shut.

“It’s all right if you don’t feel comfortable discussing it,” Emma said. “I respect you honoring Jace’s privacy.”

“It’s not that,” Pam said with a funny grin as Jace pulled his Mustang into the now open garage. “I’m thinking you should let him answer for himself.”

“Hey, ladies,” Jace called on his trek across the yard. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Pam said. “Is Will off early, too?”

Emma glanced at her watch to find it was only a little after four.

“No.” Shoving his hands in the pockets of his desert-camo pants, he flashed a sheepish grin. “My nanny here said she wanted to go paint shopping, so I figure if we get an early enough start, we might also get a bite to eat.”

“Sounds fun,” Pam said. “Want me to take the girls?”

“Thanks, but no,” Emma said.

“That’d be great,” Jace called over her.

“No problem.” Pam rose from the swing. “Want me to just stay here? I’ll text Will to join me.”

“Perfect,” Jace said.

Emma wasn’t so sure.

“NO.” At a neighboring town’s home-improvement store, Jace folded his arms across his chest and scowled. Emma supposed he meant to look fierce, but all he’d really accomplished with the stern pose was raising his cute factor through the roof.

“What do you mean, no?” Emma asked from in front of the paint-sample display. “This pink is a gorgeous color. It’s warm and soothing and will make the girls feel secure.”

“And make me even more henpecked than I currently am.”

Scowling at him, Emma asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it. In hardly any time, I’ve gone from being a self-contained bachelor to being totally dependent on you.”

“That’s such a lie.” Emma stormed off toward the paint-brushes and rollers.

“Is it?” Too bad for her that Jace caught up in about three seconds, lightly grabbing her upper arm to stop her. “Let’s break it down. You cook for me, clean for me, do my laundry, dote on my girls. It’s embarrassing. I’m supposed to be in charge.”

“Who says you aren’t?”

“If I were, would we really be standing here, debating paint colors? Wouldn’t I just tell you what color the den was going to be?”

“If you were a tyrant.” Sweetly smiling at him, she said, “Since you’re kind and gentle and caring and completely one-hundred-percent secure in your manliness, it doesn’t matter to you if I paint your den pink, yellow or purple. Because you’re an amazing guy, all that truly matters to you is making the women in your life happy.”

“And are you, Em? Happy?”

“I will be if we paint the den pink.”

When he stepped closer, cupping his large hands to her shoulders, he whispered, “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” she whispered back. His proximity had her trembling. Then there was his heat. She wasn’t attracted to him. She wasn’t, wasn’t, wasn’t. So why, when he touched his forehead to hers, mingling their breaths, did she want with everything in her to kiss him?

“So?”

Unable to speak, she nodded.

“Good. Me, too.” When he released her, slowly backing away, she felt as if a part of her had been lost.

With everything in her, she wanted to ask him what had just happened. Had the moment even been significant, beyond the fluttering of excitement in her heart?

He asked, “You really want pink?”

“Not if you’re really opposed.”

His white-toothed grin was mesmerizing. “My ego can take it.”

“DO YOU THINK the girls are okay?” Emma slid into the corner booth the seafood restaurant’s hostess had just shown them to. “Maybe we should grab some fast food and eat at home?”

“You do whatever you want, but after the ordeal you just put me through, I need a real meal.”

“I’ll call,” she said, whipping out her cell.

Clearly Pam had managed to reassure her that the girls were all right, because Em hung up and then consulted the menu.

“What looks good?” Jace asked.

“I haven’t had crab in forever. How about you?”

“Want to share a Couple’s Bucket?”

Her cheeks brightened.

He loved it when that happened. Which was probably why he went out of his way to fluster her as much as possible.

“Sure. That sounds good.”

Once Jace had placed their order, and the waitress had delivered two sweet teas, he found himself at a loss for what to say next. He hadn’t meant to touch her at the home-improvement store, and he sure as hell hadn’t meant to ask her such an intimate question, but it had just popped out.

Em said, “I think the girls are going to love their redecorated room.”

He snorted. “I think the girls couldn’t care less if they live in a cardboard box. You, on the other hand, are going to look good smiling in the girls’ room.”

“Stop. There have been lots of studies about the effects of color on infants.”

“Relax.” He reached across the table, brazenly taking her left hand. “I’m teasing.”

“Don’t.”

“Why?” he probed.

“B-because I don’t know what to do with myself when you’re like this. I—I hardly know you. You hardly know me. You’re my boss for heaven’s sake. We have no business canoodling.”

“Canoodling?” Nose wrinkled, he said, “I’m not even sure what that is, but hey, I’m an adventurous guy, willing to give anything a try.”

“You’re incorrigible—worse yet, you don’t care.”

“I know.” With the pad of his thumb, he brushed her tender palm. “What I do care about is my growing fear that I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Chapter Ten

“You’re being silly,” Emma said, quick to brush off Jace’s admission. Why? Because essentially, she felt the same about him, and the notion scared her to her core. “You’d be just fine without me.” She, on the other hand, without him, would be devastated to the point that she wasn’t sure if she’d ever regain her sanity. “Just hire someone else.”

“Luckily for me, you’re not going anywhere. I hope.”

Yanking her hand free, she asked, “Is that what this is about? Your sudden show of affection? You fearing I might be leaving, and you’re coming on to me to make me stay?”

His dark expression was lethal. “You owe me an apology.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you have to know that this job isn’t just work to me. I can’t get into it now, but trust me when I say that you and the girls mean the world to me. This job has been a blessing in more ways than I can possibly say. To even think you may just be toying with my emotions…” She looked down at her hands to see that she’d gripped them together so tightly that some blood had seeped onto her bandage’s outer layer.

“You don’t think there’s as much at stake for me? I haven’t been involved with anyone for years. Then, all of a sudden you and the girls pop into my life and I’m smitten. For the first time in I can’t remember when, I actually want to come home at night. Do you have any idea how amazing that feels?”

“Y-yes,” Emma managed. “I know, because I feel the same. Only, I guess, in reverse.”

Expelling a rush of air, Jace covered his face with his hands.

“What? My admission isn’t sitting well?”

“It’s not that,” he said, lowering his hands and shaking his head. “I just can’t believe how much my life has changed in such a short time. My main goals used to be flying hard, drinking harder—anything to outrun the loneliness.”

“You’re a great guy,” Emma said, “why were you lonely?”

“Because I chose to be. Because the thought of getting hurt again was too much for me to handle.”

Leaning toward him, taking the liberty of curving her fingers around his forearm, she asked, “What happened?”

Etching a pattern into the condensation on his tea glass, he took a few seconds to compose his thoughts. “In college, I met the woman I thought was the love of my life. In our spare time, we did everything together. Rock-climbing, scuba, studying for our classes. We were both engineering majors. She always got better grades than me, but I didn’t care. I was so proud that she wanted to be with me over all of the other guys in our mostly male class.”

“Sounds idyllic,” Emma said, a knot in her stomach over where this might be heading.

“It was. Graduation day, I asked her to marry me. She accepted. My frat brothers threw us a huge blow-out of an engagement party. My best friend, Lyle, set up everything. Band, food, plenty of ball-and-chain decorations.” Staring wistfully across the dimly lit restaurant, Jace said, “I asked him to be my best man.”

“I’m guessing from your tone he wasn’t the best best man.”

Jace let loose with a sarcastic snort. “Not really.”

“Uh-oh…” Emma frowned along with Jace, irrationally upset with a man she didn’t even know. “What did he do?”

“Basically, my bride.”

Emma blanched at Jace’s crudeness, but couldn’t blame him for being bitter.

“It’s such a cliché. The bride getting caught going at it with the best man hours before the wedding. They were in my folks’ pool house. Mom caught them. Thank God, it wasn’t me, or I’m not sure what I might’ve done.”

“No wonder you’re relationship-shy. Talk about the ultimate betrayal. Where are they now?”

Chuckling, Jace said, “Last I heard, married to each other. Living in Ohio with three kids.”

“Was it any consolation knowing that they at least stayed together?”

“No.” A muscle ticked in Jace’s square jaw.

“I’m sorry. No one should have to go through something like that. Least of all on what’s supposed to be the happiest day of your life.”

“Tell me about it.” Forcing a deep breath and easing the fingers of his right hand between those of her left, Jace said, “But hey, enough gloom and doom. Finding each other—even if we turn out to be just friends—that’s a good thing.”

Smiling, not even trying to calm her runaway pulse, Emma said, “I couldn’t agree more.”

The waitress arrived with their bucket, covering the table with plastic before inviting Jace to do the honor of dumping the contents. Crab legs and peel-and-eat shrimp, potato chunks and corn-cob sections tumbled out, with a sinfully delicious smell of brine and Cajun spice.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Jace said after the waitress had returned with crusty French bread and plenty of drawn butter.

“Starving.” She grabbed a crab leg, cracking it in half.

“You look like a pro. Eat these a lot?”

“In another life.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

Her chest tightened. What should she say? Part of her very much wanted to share her pain with this man she suspected might actually understand her. Another part wanted to compartmentalize the grief that had for so long shut her down.

“Em?” Jace prompted. “You all right?”

“Fine,” she said automatically.

“I know that’s a bad sign.”

Shaking off his concern, she reached for another crab leg. “I’ll tell you some time. Just not now.”

“Fair enough.” He acted as if her not telling all wasn’t a big deal, but the cheerless turn of his lips told a different story.

“I’m sorry. After you’ve just shared such an intimate part of your life with me, I…” she toyed with the pincers on one of her crab legs.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked, leaning in close. “Because if they did, so help me, I’ll—”

“It’s nothing like that,” she said, touched by his visceral reaction to her pain. It was a familiar feeling, considering she’d done the same upon hearing how badly Jace had been hurt. “But thank you for your concern.”

He nodded.

“One day, I promise I’ll be strong enough to share. Just not now. I’m getting better every day, but…”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“But—”

Whisper-soft, he placed his index finger to her lips. “We’re good. When—if—you’re ready to tell me whatever’s on your mind, I’ll be here.”

SATURDAY NIGHT in Jace’s backyard, Granola asked, “She didn’t even give you a clue as to what’s bugging her?”

“Not a word.” Flipping the steaks, Jace backed away from the smoke when meat drippings caused the gas grill to flare. “But it’s cool.”

Jace smacked a mosquito whining near his ear.

“No, man,” Granola argued, “it’s not. What do you really know about this woman?” He swigged his beer.

“She’s great to me and my girls. That’s all I need to know.”

“Heard anything from your PI?”

“Nope.” Jace chugged some beer from his own longneck bottle.

“What’re you going to do?”

Jace shrugged. “Been thinking about firing the guy. Going with someone new.”

“You talk to Emma about that?”

“Nope.” Jace shifted the steaks away from the highest flame.

“Pam says your gal’s pretty smitten with the twins. Like they’re an addiction.”

Jace shot his old friend a dark look. “What the hell’s that mean?”

“Nothing.” Granola took another deep swig. “Forget I said anything.”

“How am I supposed to ignore a dig like that?” Jace gripped his beer so hard, he was surprised the bottle didn’t shatter in his hand.

“Considering what Amanda put you through, I would think you’d be a little more cautious. I’d think you’d want to screen this woman nine ways to Sunday.”

“I did. Her references were glowing.”

“And you told me they were also voodoo. Nothing about her added up.”

The steaks were done. Anxious to get back inside to Em, away from his supposed friend, Jace used a meat fork to pluck the ribeyes from the grill onto a serving platter.

Softening his tone, Granola said, “The last thing I want to do, man, is rain on your parade. Pam thinks the world of Emma, but I’ve got to tell you, something’s not right about her. Check it out.”

“Drop it.”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK the boys are talking about?” Pam asked, feeding Bronwyn pureed peaches while peering out the breakfast-nook window.

“I couldn’t begin to guess.” Emma sprinkled croutons over a Caesar salad. Humming along to the Coldplay song playing on the stereo, Emma gazed out the window over the kitchen sink. Jace stood at the grill, his strong back to her. His buzz cut was growing out along his neck. Her fingertips tingled from wanting to stroke the dark strands.

Pam asked, “Did you two have fun at dinner the other night?”

“It was actually pretty amazing.”

“How so?” Pam asked, wiping each girl’s wet, sticky cheeks with a damp cloth.

“Jace told me what happened on his wedding day. No wonder he’s had a tough time of it.”

“And now?” Pam raised her eyebrows. “Any romantic sparks?”

Emma blushed.

“Hmm…” Pam grinned. “This is an interesting development.”

“Nothing happened.” Emma grated parmesan over the salad. “We just had a good talk.”

“Mmm-hmm…” Popping open the lid on a jar of pureed pork, Pam asked, “Do I heat this?”

“Just a little. Be sure and test it on your wrist before giving it to the girls.”

“Will do, boss.”

“Steaks are done,” Jace said, pushing open the back door.

Emma took the steak platter from him. “These look—and smell—amazing.”

“Thanks,” Jace said. “Everything else ready?”

Granola followed Jace through the door, closing it behind him.

“All we’re waiting on is the garlic toast to come out from under the broiler.”

“Great,” Jace said, “I’m starving.”

“I’m going to wash up,” Granola said. “Pam, wanna come with me?”

“I’m feeding the girls.” Pam, finished with the microwave, sat back down in front of the high chairs. She held a bite up to Bea, who gobbled it with a sloppy grin. “Why? Did you forget how to wash your own hands?”

“Pam,” her husband said. “Bathroom. Now.”

“Granola…” Jace practically growled.

“What?” he asked. “There some law against talking to my wife?”

Jace’s jaw muscle ticked.

“Everything all right?” Emma asked, slipping her hands into quilted mitts to take the bread from the oven.

“Pam,” Granola said, “we should go.”

“What?” she asked. “Why?”

“I’ll explain it to you in the car.” To Emma, he said, “Thanks for the dinner invite. We’ll take a rain check.”

The quizzical look on Pam’s face told Emma that she had no more idea of what had caused the palpable tension between the two men than she did.

“Bye,” Pam said, handing the spoon to Emma. Hugging the girls, then her, she whispered, “I’ll stop by tomorrow, and we’ll talk.”

“Thanks,” Emma said, grateful for the woman’s fast friendship. It was comforting to know that whether or not the men in their party were getting along, it wouldn’t affect them.

Once their company had left, Emma asked Jace, “Mind telling me what that was about?”

“I’d rather not.” Taking Pam’s chair in front of the babies, he picked up where she had left off.

“Our guests just stormed out of our house before eating. I’d like to know why.”

“That what this is, Em? Our house?”

He couldn’t have hurt her more than if he’d punched her in her gut.

The CD ended.

The sudden silence was deafening.

Bronwyn cooed, kicking her feet hard enough to make her high chair clatter.

“Em?”

She gripped the counter edge. What could she possibly say to Jace in response to such a question? On the one hand, yes, as crazy as it seemed, she absolutely thought of this as her house. As if the twins were hers. As if Jace…

Hands over her face, it took her a second to process the insanity of her thoughts. This house wasn’t hers, the babies weren’t hers and, as for Jace, the two of them as a couple would obviously never work.

On autopilot to make the most efficient, face-saving escape possible, Emma gave each girl a goodbye hug and a kiss to the top of each precious head. Gathering her purse, she headed for the front door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jace asked.

“Away from you.”

“Fair enough, but is this how you settle arguments? By running away?”

“I wasn’t aware we were having an argument. Goodbye, Jace.”

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

Since she didn’t have an answer, Emma walked out the door.

Chapter Eleven

Emma had been home thirty minutes, sitting on the deck staring out at the glistening, moonlit Gulf, when car headlights shone on the dune in front of the house.

Her stomach churned, and she feared it was Jace.

Hoped it was Jace.

And she knew in her heart of hearts that there was no one else it could possibly be.

The car’s engine was turned off.

The driver’s-side door opened with the same metallic squeak as that Jace’s Mustang made.

Emma’s position on the deck’s far corner gave her a clear visual shot at the stairs. Gripping the wood rail, she peered into the gloom, tensing with her visitor’s every footfall.

“Thank God, I found you.” Sure enough, it was a grim-faced Jace now invading the sanctity of her home. “I tore the house apart, looking for your home address.” Crossing to her, he shrugged, then held out his arms as if wanting a hug.

Folding her arms, she asked, “Where are the girls?”

He nodded toward the car. “In the backseat. Snoozing.” A week earlier, in case of emergency, she’d purchased car seats for his vehicle. Never had she expected them to be put to use for something like this. “Want to go for a ride, or help carry the babies inside?”

“You hurt me,” she said, already rushing over to the girls.

“And I’m sorry,” he insisted, “but I had to know.”

“Know what?” She opened the passenger-side rear door. Seeing the girls brought instant peace. Clarity of mind. Lord help her, but she loved them. Needed them. They filled the emptiness that had gnawed at her every day since Henry had been gone.

And Jace? Where does he fit in?

After Rick had left her, she’d sworn off men. Was the excitement she felt whenever Jace was around real? Or simply a by-product of her affection for the twins? Emotionally, were they a package deal?

“Em…” Grasping her shoulders, he turned her to face him, slipped his fingers beneath her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. “The other night, at the restaurant, when I admitted to—” He released her to rub his hardened jaw. “Hell, I don’t know what I admitted, only that you’ve come to mean the world to me. Truth is, Granola thinks you’re hiding something. That—like Amanda—whether you mean to or not, you’ll end up hurting me. I was pissed at him for even suggesting such a thing. That’s why he stormed off. Because I told him to mind his own business.”

“He’s your friend,” she said, curving her fingers around Bronwyn’s tiny toes. The baby should have socks on. She’d catch a chill. “It’s understandable—admirable, even—that he’d worry about you.”

“Should he? Worry?” Jace stood behind her, easing his arms around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder. His exhalations fell warmly against her chest. She could feel his heartbeat pounding against her back.

Would she hurt Jace? From her vantage point, he was the one with the power. The twins were his. As long as he had them, Emma wasn’t going anywhere. Which essentially made her a horrible person. Jace was a kind-hearted, wonderful man. Could she use him that way?

“What are you thinking?” With the backs of his fingers, Jace skimmed her cheek.

Ashamed to say, she shook her head.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not looking for a forever commitment, here, Em. I just think that—”

“What if I am?” she accidentally blurted, pulling away from him. Covering her mouth with her hands, she continued, “I shouldn’t have said that. Rewind, then hit Delete.”

For the longest while, Jace was quiet, then he turned her around and drew her into his arms, inching closer, mingling his breath with hers until she couldn’t tell where she left off and he began.

Time froze.

Their surroundings telescoped to moonlight and the lapping waters of the Gulf.

When he first pressed his lips to hers, panic seized her. It’d been so long. Did she even remember how? But then raw emotion took over. Warmth quivering through every nerve. Panic turned to bliss. Perfect languor. A lump formed in her throat from knowing—knowing—everything was right in her life.

After the pain she’d been through in losing Henry, then Rick, fate had given her two perfect angels and her very own Marine.

Twining her arms around Jace’s neck, she sighed.

“We good?” he asked, his breath peppermint-flavored.

“Indescribably so.”

“Anything else we need to hammer out?”

She shook her head. One day—soon—she’d share her grief over Henry, but now, on the threshold of happiness, hardly seemed the time.

“This place is amazing,” he said, gesturing to her rental home. “Had I known you lived in a house like this, I would’ve suggested we change our base of operations.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Yours feels cozier.”

“Since you’ve been there.”

“That’s sweet, but—”

Stopping her with another kiss, this one hotter, infinitely more exciting in an inexplicable way, he said, “Stop putting yourself down. You’re an amazing surrogate mother to my kids. And to me…” He kissed her, shimmering happiness through her. “You’re my world.”

Tears stung Emma’s eyes.

“Please don’t think me any crazier than I’m sure you already do, but Em, I want you to move in with me and the girls. We can take it slow at first—if that’s what you want, but bottom line, we could try being an official family.”

Swallowing hard, she was having a hard time believing all this was true.

“Well?” he asked, smoothing his hands along her upper arms.

Grinning up at him, Emma leapt off the emotional high dive. “Help me gather my things?”

“THAT’S THE last of it,” Jace said late Sunday afternoon, cramming the final box into Emma’s station wagon. The wind had picked up, putting the churning, crashing Gulf in quite a mood. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yep. But not about this,” she said, holding up a macramé plant hanger. “Like it or loathe it?”

“I wouldn’t exactly put it in the loathing category, but I can’t say I want it in my living room.”

Laughing, she hung it from a nail poking out of the deck rail. “We’ll leave it as a gift for the new tenants.”

“How annoying are they?” Jace asked, nodding toward the girls who were lounging in their portable playpen in the shady area beneath the raised house. Bronwyn was gumming a rubber chew toy while Bea cooed at air. “Lazy is what you two are,” he teased, tickling their stomachs. “If you’re this bad now, what am I going to do with you when you’re teens?”

“Love them even more,” Em said, plucking Bea into her arms for a quick nose rub.

“You look beautiful holding her in your arms.”

“Thank you,” Em said, smiling all the more.

“So your landlord was cool with you moving out?”

“Yes, sir. He’s got a waiting list of vacationers.”

Hand to his forehead, shading his eyes from the sun, he said, “I still don’t see why you’d want to give up a place like this. It’s amazing.”

“You ever heard the expression, home is where the heart is?”

“Sure, but—” he froze when she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him shyly.

“Since meeting you and the girls, this no longer feels like home.”

Easing his hands around her waist, he hugged her. Granola was a fool for thinking he and Em wouldn’t work out.

“This is going to sound crazy,” he said, breathing in the scent of her floral shampoo, “But remember how when we first met, I was pretty much consumed with finding Vicki?”

She nodded.

“Now, as perfect as everything seems to be, I’m afraid we’ll find her.”

Backing away from him to gather teething rings and rattles and a stuffed frog from the playpen, she asked, “Can’t you fire the PI?”

“Sure,” he said, lifting Bea into his arms, “but what’s to stop Vicki from showing up at the base?”

“Good point. But even if she does, you won’t let her take the twins, right?” When he failed to answer, mouth dry, she repeated, “Right?”

THE LAST TIME Emma had shared a bed had been with Rick, which was undoubtedly why she was positioned ramrod straight on the edge of Jace’s king-size mattress. Though the central air hummed, she felt hot all over, as though she’d spent hours in the sun. Her pulse was erratic and she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, which must be why she’d folded them coffin-style over her stomach.

“You okay?” Jace asked.

“Sure.”

“Then how come you’re all the way over there?” In the dark, his familiar voice shone like a beacon, reminding her that she’d wanted this. She’d craved being closer to him in every sense of the word.

“Truthfully,” she whispered, “and I know this’ll sound stupid, but I’m a little scared.”

“Scared?”

He moved across the bed to her. Lying on his side, stroking her hair, he said, “Sweetie, what in the world would be scaring you?”

Maybe the way she’d fallen for Jace and his babies so fast. Maybe the fact that she was terrified none of what she was feeling was real, but a dream from which she’d wake any minute.

“Em,” he probed, tracing his finger along her cheek, “talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, you know how much you and the girls mean to me, but are we jumping into this? You and me?”

“Hell, yeah,” he said, urging her alongside him so that they could spoon. “And seeing how amazing holding you like this feels, I fail to see the problem. Yes, I fell for you like a rock, but these things happen all the time in movies. Why not in our lives?”

With Jace’s warmth at her back, his words in her head, Emma’s racing pulse stilled, as did her mind. He was right, the two of them—correction, four of them—worked.

“I love you,” she said so softly that she doubted Jace had even heard.

“I love you, too.”

“A LITTLE MORE paint on the wall, instead of the drop cloth, please.” Hands on her hips, Emma scowled at Jace’s shock-and-awe painting technique. Even though it was only ten on Saturday morning, directing him already had her exhausted. “Or, using language you might better understand, we’re coating the wall. Not attacking it.”

“Ha-ha,” he said, using an over-the-shoulder backward motion that splattered pink paint past the tape she’d so carefully applied around the window trim. “But for me, this is an attack, seeing how the sooner I get it over with, the sooner I put my rear in a recliner to watch the ball game.”

“I thought we were going to Pam and Granola’s for pizza and a movie?” Since Pam had offered to take the girls for the day, Emma planned to return the favor with dinner and entertainment. Not only would the paint fumes be bad for baby lungs, but supervising two active munchkins while trying to paint wouldn’t have been all that effective.

“You can, but count me out.”

“You’re not still feuding with Granola, are you?”

“After what he said about you? Trashing your character. Hell, yeah, I’m still mad at him.”

“You shouldn’t be. I applaud him for being concerned about you. Only a true friend tells you the truth whether you want to hear it or not.”

Uncharacteristically focused on his painting, Jace’s only answer was a grunt.

To say Emma felt horrible about the rift between the two men would be a huge understatement. In a way, when they’d first met, she had been using Jace to be close to his twins. She wasn’t proud of the fact, but in her heart knew it to be true. Now, however, with every new day, Jace had grown to be an integral part of her life. They worked together, played together, talked on a level she and Rick never had.

“Jace…” Resting her brush on the paint can’s lip, she took a deep breath before saying, “In a way, Granola was right. I did give up what most people would think is a far better career than babysitting. But—for me, anyway—I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing. Caring for Bea and Bronwyn is an escape for me.” From the demons that’d tormented her.

“In fairness to my pal, I guess that’s his point. What are you escaping from?”

Was now the time to come clean? Tell him the whole truth about why she’d run away from everyone and everything she’d ever known? She opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue was thick. Dry—as if she’d licked a paper towel. Her pulse raced to an uncomfortable degree.

While her heart might be saying, yes, now’s the time to tell Jace everything about your past, the rest of her body said, no way. Her pain was still too raw. Too real.

“Em?” Jace prompted. “Escape? Ring any bells?”

Tell him everything, her heart urged.

Palms sweating, she asked, “Don’t you think escaping the proverbial rat race is reason enough?”

JACE HAD WANTED to spend Saturday night at Pam and Granola’s about as much as he’d want a freakin’ flock of geese flying into his helicopter’s rotors. Yet, here he was, standing on their front porch, a stack of pizzas in one hand, a twelve-pack of brew in the other.

“You all right?” Emma asked before ringing the bell.

“No. You owe me for this.”

“Trust me, you’ll feel better once you and Granola patch things up.”

Jace cringed. Guys didn’t “patch things up.” They either made them solid again or moved on. End of story. He and Granola had been tight a long time, but if he didn’t lay off Em, Jace had no problem cutting him out of his life.

Ten minutes later, while the women oohed and cooed over the twins, and Granola’s golden retriever, Benji, barked himself hoarse in the backyard, Jace nodded to Granola who stood in the living room’s shadows, hands shoved into his jeans pockets.

After setting the pizzas on the coffee table, he handed Granola a cold beer. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Jace shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts. “Your place smells like peaches.”

“Last weekend, Pam got a little freaky at that outlet candle store over in Gulf Shores.”

Nodding, Jace said, “Never been.”

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Granola said, “Pam told me I have to apologize for not trusting your pick in women.”

Clearing his throat, Jace said, “An apology would be appreciated.”

“Sorry. I worry about you, man. I care.”

“We’re cool.” Upon finishing off his own beer, Jace added, “For the record, some of what you said hit home. In a roundabout way, I asked Em why the hell she’d give up six figures a year to babysit.”

“And…” Granola prompted.

“Said she was sick of the rat race.”

“Guess that’s plausible.” Granola finished his beer, as well. “You happy with her answer?”

“Sure.”

“Want another?” Granola asked, nodding toward his empty can.

“Depends. You still got that old TV out in the garage so we aren’t stuck watching the chick flick Emma brought?”

“LOOKS LIKE your cooking’s a hit,” Emma said the next morning, watching the twins dig into Jace’s delicious French toast.

Bronwyn apparently liked it so much that she ignored her spoon in favor of grabbing the gooey bread, then shoving it into her mouth.

Bea was quick to follow.

“Look at them,” Emma said to Jace, who was fixing himself a plate. “Aren’t they sweet?”

“And they’ve both got sticky hair.”

“Sorry,” Emma said, though as cute as the girls looked wearing syrupy grins, she wasn’t the least bit apologetic. “I’ll clean them up.”

“You sure will,” Jace quipped.

Thirty minutes later, both grown-ups manned the tub while Bea and Bronwyn kicked and splashed in their pink plastic bath chairs. Had someone told Emma a couple of months earlier that she’d soon be given an entirely new life, she wouldn’t have believed them. Now, five times a day she fought the urge to pinch herself.

Dressing and diapering the girls, Jace said, “I meant to tell you this last night, but we got home too late.”

“Tell me what?” She slipped a pink T-shirt over Bea’s downy head.

“Thanks for what you said about Granola.”

“You mean about you two kissing and making up?” Emma sweetly smiled.

Jace growled. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do, and I’m glad you worked it out. What made you change your mind about forgiving him?”

Fastening the snaps on Bea’s baby jeans, he said, “I’d hardly call our conversation forgiveness-worthy. It was more like I got where he was coming from and vice versa.”

“That’s what I’m getting at,” Emma said, setting Bronwyn in her crib. “What did you say to make him see where you were coming from?” More to the point, did Granola still suspect her of not having Jace’s best interests at heart?

“I told him what you told me. The whole rat race thing.”

“A-and he was okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Jace tucked in Bea.

“No reason.” Emma’s old symptoms came rushing back. Sweating palms. Pounding pulse. Dry mouth. But why? What she felt for Jace was every bit as real as her affection for the twins. So what was up with her still being nervous about him knowing her whole history?

“Oh, hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something I know you’ll be opposed to as much as me.”

“What?” With the girls falling asleep together, Emma tiptoed out of the nursery.

The phone rang.

“Let me get that, and then I’ll explain.” He picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” After a few moments’ silence, he slammed down the phone, grumbling, “Another damned hang-up.”

“Relax,” she urged, rubbing his back. “What were you going to ask?”

Still scowling, he said, “My CO’s wife puts this big Fourth of July thing together every year, and seeing how I now have a family, she wants me to participate.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “I don’t understand.”

In the kitchen, Jace grabbed a Coke from the fridge. “First thing we learned in officer candidate school wasn’t about flight training or combat strategy, but that when the CO’s wife talks, you listen.”

“So? What did she say?”

“Basically that I, you and the kiddos have to be decked out in red, white and blue for the annual Fourth of July parade and picnic. That day also starts the base’s three-day open house.”

“Sounds fun. What’s the problem?”

“Problem?” He laughed, then dropped onto the sofa. “Today’s the twenty-eighth, meaning we only have five full days to decorate ourselves and the stroller. Not to mention the fact that once this feat is accomplished I’ll look like a second-rate Vegas act.”

“Can’t you wear your uniform? That’s patriotic.”

“True, but according to the CO’s wife, red, white and blue sequins promote a more festive atmosphere.”

“Hmm…” She smiled at the image of Jace dressed in his patriotic best. “Tell you what, I happen to be pretty handy with a sewing machine, so how about I make something matchy and sparkly for the girls and myself. Then, you, Mr. Monroe, can just carry a flag to match your jeans and white T-shirt.”

“Seriously? You think you can pull all of that off by the Fourth?”

“Sure—only I’ll need your help with the stroller.”

“Done. Let’s seal the deal.” Before she could say anything else, he’d drawn her onto his lap. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?”

She shook her head.

He kissed her gently, yet thoroughly, exploring every nuance of her mouth before moving on to her closed eyelids and cheeks and the tip of her nose. “I love you.”

“I—I love you, too, but—”

“No more worries, sweetheart. Only fun.” Grinning, he nuzzled her neck, “You smell good. Like syrup and baby lotion and shampoo.”

Most women in her position probably would’ve playfully squealed for him to stop, then settled into a nice, long make-out session. But after what Emma had been through, she was no longer most women. She was profoundly grateful for everything life now offered, which was why her throat knotted and eyes stung with unshed tears.

Love was an amazing gift, and only now did she realize how much she, in return, not only loved Jace, but trusted him never to hurt her.

Chapter Twelve

“So this is the famous Emma I’ve heard so much about.” Margaret Harris, the fashionista wife of Jace’s CO, held out both of her hands, clutching Emma’s. “You’re so pretty. Definitely my vote for most patriotic attire. And these must be the twins…” Crouching alongside the festooned stroller, Margaret tickled the babies while crooning, “Aren’t you cute? Yes, you are.” Rising—no small feat in light of her red, white and blue sequined jumpsuit—she said in her grown-up voice, “My husband’s got his eye on you, Jace. He says you’re a good boy, and after meeting your adorable family, I agree. In fact—”

“There you are.” The big man himself, looking cranky and hot in star-spangled Bermuda shorts and a red golf shirt, tapped the face of his watch. “We’re meeting Dick and Georgina in twenty minutes.”

“Nice to meet you,” Margaret said with a wave. “Have fun!”

Jace groaned. “Thanks, Em, for playing along. That couldn’t have been more awkward.”

Emma said, “Not that I actually said or did anything, but you’re welcome. I thought she was nice. And the base looks beautiful.”

Jace couldn’t disagree. Much like Olive’s historic district, the base’s administrative offices lined a short stretch of original brick streets. The buildings’ Southern-style facades had been festooned with red-white-and-blue bunting and hundreds of helium balloons. Thinking of how many poor new recruits had slaved over the idyllic scene made Jace’s head hurt.

At the end of Office Row, as the area was called, was a park much like the one near the house, only larger, with white-columned picnic pavilions and a glassy, cypress-lined lake. Every so often, an alligator was spotted in the lake, freaking out the kids who played along the manicured shore.

Jace said, “Margaret was only nice because we all look ridiculous—just like she wanted.” When Emma frowned, he backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it like that. You and the girls look great. I can’t believe you made all three dresses—and hats—so quickly.”

Shrugging off his compliment, she said, “You know what they say desperate times call for.”

“Seriously,” he kissed her forehead. “Bless you. If I land an early promotion from this, you’re getting a raise.”

“Really?” she teased. “Like how much are we talking? A dollar an hour?”

Hugging her, probably delirious from the heat and the spicy-sexy smell of her perfume, he said, “I know this is sudden, but I was thinking more along the lines of an engagement ring.”

EMMA COULDN’T be certain—especially since she was still upright—but she was pretty sure her heart had stopped. “W-was that a proposal?”

Touching his forehead to hers, he whispered, “I think so. But I don’t want to make it official until I can afford a proper ring.”

“I don’t need a ring.” She’d already had a two-carat stone, and it had done nothing but drag her down.

“Yes, you do.” With Jace kissing her, the world faded away. Gone was the country-and-western band playing on a makeshift stage in the center of the shady park. Gone were the hundreds of families milling about, the sweet, smoky scent of ribs and chicken and hot dogs barbecuing on grills. “Without you, I probably would’ve screwed up the best thing ever to come my way.”

“You mean the girls?”

He nodded. “If you’d have told me all those weeks ago that I could grow this attached to the munchkins, I never would’ve believed you. Now they’ve taught me what my job as a Marine is really all about.” Teary-eyed, he looked away. “God, I’m a mess.”

“No, Jace, you’re a father.” Hand beneath his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze, she said, “and I’ve never loved you more.”

“That’s a relief,” he quipped, “in my current blubbering state, I doubt anyone else would have me.”

On her tiptoes, she kissed him. “If I have anything to say about it, no other woman is even allowed to look at you.”

“Hmm…I like this possessive streak. Maybe later we could—”

“Jeez, guys, there are small children present.” Granola wedged them apart. “Think you could do us all a favor and get a room?”

“Ignore him,” Pam said. “You two and the twins are the cutest family here.”

“Thank you,” Emma said. “We might be cute, but you’re looking gorgeous.”

“You like?” Her friend did a flirty pirouette, causing the full skirt of her daringly low-cut white sundress to flare.

“I love,” Emma said, adjusting Bronwyn’s sunbonnet to better shade her eyes.

“Some Saturday when our guys are out doing their thing, we’ll have to hit the Gulf Shores outlet mall.”

“Sounds fun.”

Granola nudged Jace. “Makes you warm all over, doesn’t it? While we’re off protecting the free world, our women are out shopping.”

Laughing, Jace said, “I prefer to think of them doing their part to stimulate the economy.”

After everyone ate their fill of barbecue and potato, macaroni and fruit salads, the men wandered off to check out a friend’s new motorcycle.

Emma and Pam had stretched out on a blanket in the shade beneath a towering live oak.

Bea and Bronwyn sat between them, poking at each other’s noses and eyes.

“They really are amazing,” Pam said, cupping Bea’s tiny left foot. “I totally get how you fell for them so fast.”

“Which makes it all the more inconceivable how Vicki could’ve left them.”

“I know. Do you and Jace ever talk about what you’ll do if she shows up, wanting the girls back?”

“Sort of,” Emma said. One of the buttons on Bea’s sailor dress had come undone, so she covered her nerves by performing the menial task. “Honestly, even though I’ve never seen the woman, she scares me to death. Without her even knowing it, she holds the power to turn our lives upside down.”

“Will told me Jace was planning to pop the question to you. Has he?”

“Sort of,” Emma said with a shy smile. As much as she enjoyed Pam’s company, sometimes she could be as brazen with her comments as her husband.

“Interesting answer,” Pam said with a big grin. “I’ll take that as my cue to butt out. But as a follow-up question, do you think if Vicki did take back the babies that you and Jace would stay together?”

Not that she’d admit it, but Emma had wondered the same thing. Whether Jace truly loved her, or the idea of her being the mother to his twins, insuring he’d never have to go the whole single-parent route. In all fairness to Jace, though, a large part of his appeal was the fact that he was a package deal with the girls. If he suddenly no longer had them, would they still have something left to base their relationship upon? Without the common ground of the babies what would they even talk about?

“You’re taking a long time to answer,” Pam noted.

“I know.” Hands covering her face, Emma said, “Now that you mention it, that is something to consider. Which is why Jace and I aren’t rushing into anything.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few minutes of companionable silence, both women staring up through Spanish moss-draped branches at the azure sky, Pam said, “Can you keep a secret?”

Rolling onto her side to face her friend, Emma said, “Sure.”

“Okay…” After a deep breath, Pam blurted, “I think I’m pregnant.”

“And Will doesn’t know?”

“We’ve tried for so long, I don’t want to get his hopes up.”

Bea had drifted off to sleep, and Emma skimmed her finger along the infant’s cheek. “What symptoms are you having?”

“Bloated, exhausted, puking every morning at nine-fifteen, aching boobs and feet, my period’s three weeks late.” Grinning, Pam asked, “What else could it be?”

“I’m so happy for you,” Emma said, trying not to be sad for herself. For the baby she’d lost. “Why don’t you get a drugstore test?”

“You’ll think I’m stupid, but truthfully, I’m afraid. What if, after getting my hopes up, it turns out that I’m not pregnant? How do I deal with the disappointment?”

“Good question.” Emma, of all people, certainly didn’t have the answer. “I guess all you can do is keep trying. Which, considering how cute your husband is, shouldn’t be all that hard.”

Pam burst out laughing. “Did my prim and proper friend really just suggest I do more hanky-panky with my hubby?”

Furiously blushing, Emma couldn’t help but laugh along with her. Since meeting Jace, she had come a long way toward loosening up. Back to covering her face, she said, “I meant no such thing. You obviously jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

“Uh-huh.” Pam winked. “Which leads me to wonder how much hanky-panky has been going on between you and Jace?”

“HAVE A NICE DAY?” Jace asked Emma from the prime piece of lakeside real estate he’d staked out earlier in the day. Since it was already dark, the fireworks would be starting any minute. Pam had told Granola she was tired, and since Bronwyn and Bea were already asleep in their stroller, she’d offered to take them with her.

“The best. Although I do miss my family. While you were off doing your man thing, I spoke to Mom and Dad and some cousins on my cell.”

Jace kissed the top of her head. “I miss my folks, too. I meant to call them this morning before we left the house, but forgot.”

“Have you told them about…us?”

“Not yet. But I will. Soon.”

“Yeah,” Emma said. “Me, too.”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” He wished it were lighter outside, so that he could better see her face. Worry seized him.

“Not at all. I just don’t want a lecture from Mom, telling me not to jump into anything, and to be sure and think every little decision through.”

“Ditto,” Jace said with a sarcastic snort.

“Don’t you just hate that? Like, how old are we? Do we really need our parents telling us what to do?”

“No, but think about it. Now that we’re parents, don’t you think that one day we’ll do the same? I imagine it’s tough letting your babies go. Hey…” With the pads of his thumbs, he brushed away Emma’s tears. If it hadn’t been for the fireworks starting, reflecting off the glassy lake, darkness would’ve hidden them from him. “What’s wrong?”

Sniffling, she smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m happy. You said that we were parents, and I’m sorry, I just lost it.”

“Which only makes me surer that we’re making the right decision.”

The latest batch of fireworks exploded with enough force to make the ground tremble.

Jace flinched.

“You all right?”

“Yeah,” he said, smoke flavoring the air. “Explosions this close to home make me nervous—even if they are for entertainment purposes.”

“Have you seen much combat?”

“Enough.” After the wedding, he’d fill her in on the sometimes ugly realities of being a military wife.

“What—”

“Shh…” He tugged her closer, with her back to his chest, nuzzling his face in her hair. “Let’s enjoy the show.”

With Emma in his arms, he forgot his every worry, focusing instead on the kaleidoscope of lights.

By the time the show finished, it was past ten, and the lights had changed to the red of taillights on the vehicles leaving the base.

The night was warm but damp, scented with honeysuckle and night-blooming jasmine. Walking hand-in-hand with Emma alongside other military families, Jace imagined himself in years to come. Carrying a sleeping child, a brother or sister to the twins, so limp and trusting the child resembled a rag doll in his or her father’s arms.

Emma said, “Pam asked me something interesting today.”

“Oh?” They crossed the quiet street leading into their neighborhood.

“She wondered if Vicki were to show up, demanding to take the babies with her, would we stay together?”

Jace stopped and released Em’s hand. Incredulous, he asked, “Of course, we would. Why would you even bring up something like that? Was it Pam wondering? Or you?”

“Pam. But then I got to thinking, other than the girls, what do we have in common? Without them, what would we talk about? Laugh about? Dream about?”

“You worry too much,” Jace said and resumed walking.

“Do I?” she asked, jogging after him, taking two steps to his every one. “Jace, as much as I love being with you, I’m scared. We are rushing into this, and—”

He stopped her with a kiss.

A kiss different from all they’d previously shared in that Jace had never before had so much to lose. Shifting from high gear into low, she groaned, pressing herself even closer to him.

“I promise,” he said in his most authoritative tone, cupping her face to urge her gaze to meet his, “I will do everything in my power to keep the girls with us.”

“And if you can’t?” Fear trembled her words, hurting him to his core.

Trying to lighten the moment, but for the first time in his life incapable of thinking of a single funny thing to say, he settled for, “Might sound like a movie cliché, but Em, when—if—Vicki shows up, this is a case where failure is not an option.”

THEY’D BEEN HOME ten minutes—barely enough time to tuck the sleeping girls into their cribs after having picked them up at Pam and Granola’s, when the phone rang.

“It’s probably Pam,” Emma called, already on her way to the kitchen. “We no doubt forgot something.”

Jace laughed. “And here I thought we’d done a great job of, for once, traveling light.”

“Hey, Pam,” Emma said into the receiver. “Did we leave bottles or diapers?”

“Both,” Emma’s friend said with a laugh. “I’m just checking to see if you have spares.”

“Bunches. But thanks for the call.” Before hanging up, Emma made arrangements to pick everything up in the morning. Jace stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

Emma stared at him. She was suddenly gripped with the urge to run her hands up his chest. He was so strong. So solid. Ready to take on not only the big outside world, but their little one. Oh, how she loved him for that.

Covering her fingers with his, he brought them to his lips. His exhalations were hot. Erotic. Surging through her with a forbidden thrill. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Backing up, she twined their hands, taking him along with her.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Pulling her against him, he kissed her hard, then soft, groaning his pleasure. “You taste so damned good.”

“Y-you, too,” she barely managed past startling anticipation. Her pulse had turned crazy. Her breathing short and choppy. The sudden knowledge that she wanted Jace inside her both scared her and filled her with hope.

Lifting his T-shirt, she drew it over his chest, aching for the feel of her skin next to his.

“Whoa…” he said when she began unbuttoning the bodice of her sundress. “Slow down. We have all night.”

With her dress pooled at her feet, she unlatched her bra, tossing it to the floor. “But I want you now,” she said, pressing her bared breasts against him, loving the feel of his coarse chest hair raking her sensitive nipples.

Struggling to open his fly, he laughed. “Lord, woman, you’ve got me so damned hard, my buttons don’t work.”

“I’ll help.” Fueled by a sense of urgency, she sprung him free, dragging down his boxers and jeans so quickly as to make him lose balance.

Laughing, they landed on the hall carpet in a tangle of naked limbs. Jace broke their fall, cushioning her by taking the brunt on his backside.

“My hero,” she teased. In her current position, his need pulsed against her, exciting her as if this were her first time. But then, maybe it was. She’d never experienced such sexual urgency before.

“Come here,” he said, deepening their kiss, sliding his fingers beneath the fall of her hair. “Are you sure this is what you want? That you’re ready?”

Nodding, relishing the taste of him, the feel, the wholly masculine, sunbaked smell, she pushed herself lightly up before settling on top of him, taking him in.

Not just inside her body, but forever into her heart.

AFTER SHOWERING, then sharing a late-night snack of microwave popcorn, Oreos and milk, Jace lay in bed with Emma using his chest for a pillow. Making love to her had been beyond amazing, transporting him deep into a realm where he’d never before been. She made him feel alive and needed and perfectly content with his lot in life.

“Jace?”

“Um-hmm,” he said, stroking her silky hair.

“Remember how a while back, I told you there’s something about me that I couldn’t tell you—not yet?” He didn’t like the tremble to her tone.

Tensing, he pulled away from her and said, “So help me God, if you’re about to tell me you’re married, I’ll—”

“It’s nothing like that,” she said, moonlight spilling through open blinds revealing the honesty in her eyes, but also shining, unshed tears. “Promise.”

“Okay.” He forced a deep breath. “Let’s hear it.”

“You once asked how I learned so much about caring for babies.”

“Yes.” With each shred of hesitancy in her speech, his pulse grew more erratic.

“I had a child. Henry. He was perfect in every way, and—” She hesitated. “And h-he died.”

Died? So many questions ran through Jace’s head. But then his love for her overrode all else. “Oh, Emma.” Instinct had him pulling her into his arms, wishing he could somehow erase the pain causing her tears. They were ugly tears. Torrents of grief pouring from her soul. Never had Jace hurt to such a degree, and it killed him that there was nothing he could do for Emma but hold her until her sobs subsided.

WALKING THE INFANTS the next morning, pushing their stroller through the park’s sun-dappled shade and air freshened by an overnight rain, Emma felt as if she’d been washed clean. Though she still mourned Henry, sharing her loss with Jace, allowing him to help her bear the enormous weight, had been such a relief.

Unlike Rick, Jace hadn’t assigned blame, but merely listened. Truly listened to every detail of her lost baby that she’d cared to share. And when she’d finished, and cried more, he’d held her, cradling her, stroking her, showing her in a hundred small ways how much she was loved.

“Your daddy’s amazing,” she said to the girls.

Bronwyn bucked in her seat, squeezing her teething ring. Bea, meanwhile, had managed to get herself all tangled up in the seat belt and leg harness. Face scrunched into a scowl, the infant’s red leg told her painful story.

“Poor baby,” Emma said, making quick work of freeing the girl, then giving her leg a gentle rub. “All better.”

Bea sniffled that she wasn’t so sure. But then a butterfly came along, capturing her attention.

While the baby closed and opened her fist, Emma laughed. The sound had bubbled up from inside a place so long forgotten, she’d never thought to find it again. But there it was, and here she was, her heart so full, she wanted the whole world to share in her joy.

“YOU’RE A chair hog,” Jace halfheartedly complained.

“I was here first,” Emma argued, snuggling against him in the oversized recliner. It’d been Jace’s turn to pick the movie they watched, so an action adventure blared through stereo speakers. Bronwyn and Bea were long since in their cribs, but with all of the explosions rattling the walls, it was a wonder they hadn’t wakened. “You’re the one who’s a chair crasher.”

“A chair crasher?” he teased, nuzzling her neck. “Even for you, that’s pretty low.” After kissing her forehead, nose and then lips, he added, “Now, you’re going to have to pay.”

“Ooooh,” she said, wearing a playful grin, “I’m so scared.”

“You will be after I—”

The phone rang.

“Who in the hell is that?” Jace said, glaring toward the kitchen.

“Let it ring,” Emma urged, tugging him closer.

“I would, but on the off chance it’s my CO, I really should answer.”

Though Emma understood, that didn’t mean she had to like his leaving. Using the remote, she turned down the movie’s blaring soundtrack.

Jace returned, handing her the phone. “Caller ID is blank. Could it be your mom?”

“You’re such a chicken,” Emma said, shaking her head. “Hand me the phone.”

“Hello?” Emma said into the receiver.

“I—I have to—” said a woman in a reedy voice Emma didn’t recognize. Then she hung up.

“Hello? Hello?”

“Who was it?” Jace asked, standing in front of the recliner, hands on his hips. “Not that prank caller again? I’ve had it with those punks. I’m calling the cops and…”

“Jace!” Emma cried, suddenly afraid. “It wasn’t a kid, but a woman. She sounded like she was crying. Could it have been Vicki?”

“What?”

“Do you think all those other hang-ups could have been her?” Trembling from head to toe, Emma drew her knees to her chest, tightly wrapping them with her arms.

“Hey…” Jace sat beside her, scooping her onto his lap. Hugging her, cocooning her in his strength, he said, “Let’s not panic, okay?”

Emma couldn’t stop shaking.

She fully realized that the worst that could happen was Vicki being granted partial custody, hurting their new family. But that potential loss morphed into memories she couldn’t suppress.

Losing Henry had been excruciating. To one night be holding him, rocking him, breathing in his unique smell, only to wake the next morning to greet him with hugs and kisses, but find him grey instead of pink. Cold instead of warm. Stiff with rigor mortis instead of soft and snuggling against her breasts.

She couldn’t stop shaking.

“Emma,” Jace softly urged. “Come on, sweetheart. Hold it together.”

She shook her head.

“Em, the girls are safe in their cribs. For all we know, that wasn’t even Vicki on the phone. First thing in the morning, I’ll call the PI. See if he can somehow trace the number. If it turns out this has been Vicki calling all of this time, we’ll turn the tables on her. Find out once and for all what the hell she wants—other than our children. Because make no mistake, Em, those girls are ours. Forever.”

“I—I’m so cold,” she said, clinging to his warm, solid frame. “W-what if one day we have our guard down and she takes Bea and Bronwyn? I love them so much. I don’t think I could survive losing even one more child, let alone two.”

“Pull it together, honey.” Fingers beneath her chin, he said, “Marine wives are as tough as their men. They don’t take crap from anyone. Least of all a woman who abandons two babies. You and I are smart. I’ve got a few bucks saved. We’ll hire a great attorney who’ll make Vicki wish she’d never even thought of setting foot back in this town.”

“You think she’s here? In Olive?” The very thought sent Emma to a whole new level of panic.

Chapter Thirteen

“No.” Jace tenderly kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, hon, that came out wrong. I meant if she dares come here.”

“Promise?”

“Sure,” he said, even though there was no way in hell he could guarantee she wasn’t in town. Or, for that matter, just outside the front door, lurking in the bushes. The base should be safe, but if Vicki wanted in badly enough, she’d find a way. All he could do was calm Emma, and then, first thing in the morning launch an offensive campaign. “You must be exhausted. How about you change into a pair of your sexy PJs, and then I’ll tuck you in.”

Still clinging to him, she nodded.

At 3:17 a.m. Jace woke to find only himself in bed. “Em?”

When she didn’t answer, meaning she probably wasn’t in the master bedroom, he rose. He knew he didn’t have to look far for her.

“Emma?” he whispered on the threshold of the girls’ room. “Honey, you—”

He found her bathed in moonlight, curled up in the oversized pink rocker she’d insisted on buying, both babies in her arms. In all of his travels, he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. Or a more heartbreaking one. As much as it warmed him to know she loved his children to such a degree, it also scared him.

Mothers had a lot of rights.

What was he going to do if for some asinine reason a judge saw fit to give custody to Vicki? More important, how would he help Emma cope through such an emotional disaster?

And then there was the other matter nagging him.

The one that frightened him the way no battle ever had.

What if Granola’s instincts about Em had been right? What if she was more like Amanda than Jace cared to admit? What if the only reason she was with him wasn’t out of her love for him, but her love for his babies?

“YO, LEADFOOT,” Granola shouted, “we’re waiting on you!”

Jace had just dialed his PI for the third time on Monday morning, with still no luck in reaching him. Shading his eyes against the brutal sun, he counted to three rings and had just about given up, when the man answered.

“Foster here.”

“Glad I caught you,” Jace said, sweltering in his black flight jumpsuit. “We’ve got a situation I need you to help figure out.”

“Shoot.”

Jace outlined the scant knowledge on Vicki that he’d gained. “Can you trace her call?”

“Let me see what I can do. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll get back to you.”

“Will do.”

“What was that about?” Midway through the call, Granola had sauntered over.

“Remember me telling you about the prank calls we’ve been getting?”

“Sure. Juveniles in need of a butt-kicking, right?”

Rubbing his forehead, Jace said, “It might be Vicki behind the calls. Last night, she talked to Emma.”

“She actually told Emma who she was?”

“No, but—” Jace started the short walk toward his helicopter.

“Then how do you know it was her?” Granola trailed after him. “Ask me, you’re making too much out of a simple wrong number.”

“Could be, but what if I’m not?” Pausing, bracing his hands on his hips, Jace asked, “Haven’t we always heard it’s better to launch an effective offensive than to be forced into a defensive posture?”

“Sure, but in this case, I think you’re being premature in launching anything.”

“How so?”

“Think about it,” Granola said. “The woman abandoned her kids with a virtual stranger. Why the hell would she then turn around and want them back?”

“Guilt,” Jace said, having resumed his trek.

“Still voodoo to me. I say you’re looking for trouble where there is none. I had my doubts about Emma, but the more I see you two together, I know you’re the real deal.” Patting his friend’s back, he added, “Relax. Enjoy your new family. Everything’s going to be great.”

Jace snorted. “What’s got you full of rainbows and unicorns?”

Flashing a big, dopey grin, Granola said, “You know how Pam was too tired to stay for the fireworks?”

Grabbing his flight helmet, Jace nodded.

“Well, seeing how that’s my favorite part of the holiday, I was pretty ticked. But then she told me why she was tired, and then she made me go get a couple of those drugstore pregnancy tests, and can you believe it? We’re preggers. I’m going to be a dad, too.”

“Congratulations, man!” Jace gave his longtime friend a bear hug.

While he was thrilled for his pal, Jace was also jealous. Granola was having his baby with a woman he loved. He wouldn’t have to worry about possibly losing custody. He’d have time to focus on important things like figuring out which forbidden sweets produced the biggest baby grin.

He also would never have to wonder if Pam loved him for him, or because he came with a ready-made family.

“WELCOME HOME,” Emma called with forced cheer from her perch on the ladder. She was wallpapering the wall behind the sofa with a gorgeous floral print that made the room feel spring-like despite the fierce July heat.

“Did I give permission for this?” Jace asked, crouching to unlace his boots, and then kick them off.

“No. But I came across your housing contract, and it says you’re welcome to make any cosmetic changes as long as they’re easily reversible. I prepped the wall with some gunk that promised to make tear-down a breeze.”

“Uh-huh…” Scowling, he made a beeline for the babies who were in their playpen, gumming toys. “Why didn’t you guys call me?” he playfully asked the girls. “I would’ve come straight home to check Mommy for fever.”

Mommy. How sweet that word sounded, especially from Jace’s lips.

Having trimmed the latest strip, she asked, “You’re not really mad, are you?”

“Nah. Although you could’ve used something with manly stripes or a camo-green tank theme instead of flowers.” The way he said the word flowers made it sound like the product of something found in one of Bea or Bronwyn’s especially dirty diapers.

“The girls and I love them. They add joy to an otherwise dismal space.”

“If you say so.” He crossed the room to kiss her, and since she was on a ladder, Emma thought it was fun to be taller than him for once. “Does this mean there’s no dinner?”

“I thought we could grab burgers or a pizza.”

“But I like your cooking.”

Rubbing the spiky top of his head, she said, “Someone sounds spoiled.”

“It’s not my fault,” he reasoned. “You did it.”

“Complaining?”

“No, but—”

She kissed him quiet.

“Mmm…” he said. “Burgers, it is.”

He helped her finish the last strip, then, while Emma cleaned up, Jace got the babies ready for their outing.

Seated at a corner table at Burger Shack, the girls in high chairs munching bite-sized pieces of fries, Emma asked the question that had worried her so all day that she’d needed the distraction of redecorating. “So…um…hear anything from your PI?”

Jace set down his triple burger and sighed. “And here I was trying so hard to keep tonight upbeat.”

“Sorry. You don’t know how many times I almost called you today, but resisted.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t get a definitive answer till right before leaving.” He rubbed his stubble-covered jaws. He seemed to take an overly long time formulating what he’d say next. “Well, actually, it’s not okay, but it’s also not like we have any choice, seeing as how Vicki’s pretty much calling the shots.”

Leaning across the table, Emma quietly asked, “Does that mean the PI tracked those calls to her?”

“The long and short of it is, using some channels I’d rather not know about, yeah, he found out the caller was Vicki.”

Emma groaned, but managed to suppress a fresh round of nervous trembling.

“Don’t worry,” Jace said, “I now have her number. And along with it…” he plucked a paper scrap from his T-shirt pocket, “her Baton Rouge address.”

“Good.”

With the pads of his thumbs, he brushed the tops of her hands. “If it makes you feel better, my gut feeling is that she’s missing the girls. Maybe even second-guessing her decision to leave them. The fact that she hasn’t made direct contact with us is a good thing, and—”

Jace’s cell rang. Glancing at his caller ID, he said before connecting, “It’s the PI.”

Emma’s heart caught in her throat.

“Sure,” Jace said into his phone while Emma’s pulse raced. “I understand. Thanks for the warning.”

Warning? Oh, God.

Without Jace to hold on to, Emma gripped her hands tightly together.

The girls, meanwhile, were oblivious to anything but their fries, and the freckled kid making faces in the booth across from them.

Expression grim, Jace disconnected the call.

“Well?” Emma demanded.

“Al has a contact in Baton Rouge, and called in a favor to have the guy check on Vicki. Turns out she’s not home—hasn’t been for a few days. The landlord’s a friend of hers, and is watching her two cats—indefinitely.”

Bile rose in Emma’s throat. A ball of frustration and fear knotted her chest.

“Em…” Jace gripped her hands. “I know that look, and I can tell you’re freaking out.”

“You’re not?”

“I plead the fifth. Anyway, seeing as how I’m thinking we’ve both lost our appetites, let’s pack up and head home.”

LONG AFTER Emma had fallen asleep from pure exhaustion, Jace paced the living room. Emma’s damned frilly, flowery wall wasn’t having the feel-good effect she’d promised. Or, maybe it was the still-fresh stink of wallpaper paste making his stomach queasy? Right. If only the cause of his insomnia could be so simple.

Here he was, supposedly the man of the family, a big, tough Marine, yet he had never felt more helpless. Vicki could be anywhere. Lounging on a Fort Lauderdale beach. Hiking in Colorado. Parked outside his home, staring at him through night-vision goggles.

Granted the goggles were probably going too far, but as for her lurking outside, it definitely seemed her style.

Wandering into the nursery, he sat in Emma’s big comfy chair, rocking, drinking in the sight of his girls washed in moonlight. Every so often, Bronwyn made the cutest mew. Bea, meanwhile, alternately snored or made little suckling sounds.

Lord, how he loved these angels.

Without having met Vicki, he never would’ve had them, so he’d at least credit her for that. What he’d never do was condone her childish way of dealing with her pregnancy, and their twins’ birth. From the start, she should’ve kept him in the loop. Given him the opportunity to share their first smiles and burps and cries.

He yawned.

Best thing for him to do would be try getting some rest. He had a long day of flight testing ahead of him, and God only knew what new surprises Vicki had in store.

“THANKS FOR doing this with me,” Emma said to Pam, while her friend loaded her beach bag, chair, umbrella and towel into the back of the car.

“No problemo,” Pam said, grinning as she climbed into the Volvo’s front seat. “Hey, ladies,” she crooned to the girls, tweaking the toes peeking out of their yellow sandals. “Their sundresses and hats are darling. I’ve always loved daisies.”

“Me, too,” Emma said, backing out of Pam’s drive.

“I like your sunglasses, too,” Pam crooned to the girls. “Your mommy has good taste.”

Emma winced at Pam’s words. It hurt that she wasn’t the girls’ biological mom. Which she knew was ludicrous, but—

“Stop,” Emma’s friend scolded. “Whenever you get that frown line between your eyebrows, I know you’re worrying about the twins. Right now, I’m guessing your frown is a reaction to me calling you their mother. But frowning about that is stupid, because in every sense of the word, you are their mom. And once you and Jace tie the knot, it’ll be official.

“I know,” Emma said, swallowing a lump in her throat as she approached the stop sign at the end of the shady street. “But with Vicki calling, and then—”

“What? She called you?”

“Will didn’t tell you?”

“We’ve been talking about other things.”

“Oh my gosh, are you…?” Emma nearly missed the next stop sign, glancing over to find her friend’s eyes tearing.

Pam nodded.

“I’m so sorry. Here I’ve been going on and on about—”

“Don’t you dare apologize for feelings that are a little out of your control. And besides, God willing, I’ll be pregnant for the next nine months, which will give us lots of time to focus on me.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, tearing up along with Pam, “for being such a wonderful friend.”

“Ditto, sweetie. Now, let’s stop blubbering and enjoy our ladies’ day out.”

Though the Olive Municipal Beach was crowded, everyone seemed to be in such good cheer Emma found their smiles contagious. Pam was right. She’d worried enough lately.

Today, she was stealing for herself.

After staking their claim by setting out their chairs, shade umbrellas and gear, then slathering coconut-scented lotion on themselves and the girls, Emma and Pam each took a baby, then sat in the surf.

“Aren’t these new waterproof diapers amazing?” Emma asked. “A huge improvement over the old puffy kind.”

Pam wrinkled her nose. “Were you a nanny before taking on these cuties?”

“Um, no,” Emma said, her stomach seizing at her near mistake. She might’ve shared her past’s truth with Jace, but she wasn’t yet ready to tell anyone else about her lost child. “My, um, cousin’s baby used to wear the old kind.” The one time she and Rick had taken Henry to the beach, his diaper had swollen so beneath his tiny swimsuit that they’d taken it off.

Hot sun kissing her shoulders, cool surf licking her legs, Emma lost herself in the giddy pleasure of sharing what was most likely the girls’ first foray into the Gulf.

Bronwyn giggled when wet sand dribbled between her fingers.

Bea tried catching the foam.

“I can’t wait to do this with my own son or daughter,” Pam said. “Will’s so excited.”

“I’ll bet. At first, Jace was terrified of fatherhood, but now he dotes on his girls. I think if he’d had nine months to prepare himself, he’d have been ready from the start.”

“You’re probably right,” Pam mused. “Hungry?”

“A little.”

“I’m starved. Let’s grab the turkey sandwiches.”

Emma laughed. “Just wait until you’re a few more months along. I’ve heard the cravings can be rough.”

“Lucky for me Will’s a sweetheart,” Pam said, plunking Bea onto the blanket in a patch of the umbrella’s shade. “Even when I wasn’t pregnant, he always indulged my late-night ice cream or pizza cravings.”

Laughing, Emma said, “I’ve seen how fast Will downs pizza. Those were probably his cravings, too.”

“Oh, but to hear him talk, you’d think—”

“Excuse me,” a woman said, standing just outside of Emma’s line of sight, “I don’t mean to intrude, but do you think your twins might need more sunscreen?”

“I appreciate your concern,” Emma said, “but I applied waterproof lotion less than thirty minutes ago. I’m keeping track of their exposure time.”

“Oh,” the woman said, still lingering. “Sorry. I’m…um…on vacation and missing my twins.”

She knelt, fingering the fringe on Bronwyn’s green, yellow and white daisy-themed swimsuit. “They’re adorable.”

“Thanks,” Emma said, fighting a vague uneasiness that worsened the longer the woman hung around.

Bea was usually shy around strangers, but her wide-eyed stare at the stranger now gripping her hand didn’t show the least bit of fear.

“May I hold her?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Emma said.

“Why don’t you just move along?” Pam said, never one to mince words.

“I will. Just give me a…minute.” The woman lifted Bea into her arms.

Emma stood, prepared to do battle. But then tears streamed down the woman’s cheeks. Trembling, she clung to Bea with an intensity only a fellow mother would see. Dawning was initially slow to come, but then Emma understood.

Summoning her every ounce of nerve, she asked, “Vicki?”

Chapter Fourteen

While Emma felt paralyzed with fear that Vicki would bolt with one or both babies, Pam rose, adopting a fighting stance. “You need to hand over Beatrice, and get out of here, before I call for help.”

Vicki said, “Bea is my child. I have every right to hold her. Bronwyn, too.”

Pam snorted. “You should’ve thought of that before you abandoned them with a man they didn’t even know.”

“I—I had no other choice,” Vicki said. “Rent was due, and tuition and we had no food in the fridge.”

“Why didn’t you contact Jace from the start?” Emma said, finally out of her fog. “You can’t just leave two babies and expect no consequences.”

By this time, the families sunbathing on either side of them had started to stare. One barrel-chested man stood, ambling their way. “Ma’am,” he said to Emma, “I’m a cop. Need help?”

Emma nodded. Pointing at Vicki, she said, “This woman is trying to take my babies.”

“They’re mine!” Vicki snapped.

“Ma’am,” the police officer said to Vicki, “I don’t know who you are in relation to the infant, but I do know you aren’t the one who brought her here today. How about handing her over to her mom, then going on about your business.”

“These babies are my business.” Holding her ground, Vicki clutched Bea even tighter.

The baby whimpered, and then started to cry.

“Give her to me,” Emma said. “If you have any love for her at all, can’t you see you’re hurting her?”

“She’s mine,” Vicki insisted. “Both are. This woman is the real criminal. All I want to do is hold my children, but—”

“Ma’am,” the officer said, “take it up with your lawyer, because these infants are going nowhere with you today.”

Vicki shot the man a dark glare, then cast one at Emma and Pam.

“Ma’am,” the officer warned. “If you don’t hand the infant to her mother now, I’ll place you under arrest.”

Complying, Vicki placed a wailing Bea in Emma’s arms, then said, “I might be leaving this beach, but not this town.” Pointing at Emma, she added, “I’ll be seeing you tonight.”

“SHH…” Upon his return from that day’s duty, Jace held Emma close, smoothing his hand up and down her back. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

“I know, but you should’ve seen her. The wild look in her eyes. Like she was going to take the babies and run without ever looking back.”

“But she didn’t,” Jace reasoned. Gesturing to the grinning, kicking girls having a ball beneath their baby gym, he said, “Look at them. They couldn’t be more content.”

“She said she’s coming here—tonight.”

Jace let loose with a sarcastic chuckle. “I suppose it’s possible, but I’d like to see her try. Did you forget that we just happen to live on a Marine base? We’re trained to keep out everyone from lone terrorists to entire armies. Vicki doesn’t stand a chance.”

“You didn’t see her eyes,” Emma said, her voice muffled against his chest. “She looked capable of anything.”

“Look at me,” he said, lifting her chin. “Do I honestly look ready to turn my daughters over to a woman who, by her own admission, can’t care for them?”

She shook her head.

“All right, then. Want to go out for dinner, or stay home?”

“Home,” she said, pushing away from him, turning toward the kitchen. “I’m craving comfort food.”

“Does that mean I get your mashed potatoes?” Hopeful, he trailed after her.

“If you’ll peel.”

“Done.”

A blast of welcome cold air hit him when she opened the fridge, kneeling to remove potatoes from the vegetable bin. “Here,” she said, handing him the bag. “I’m going to put the girls in their high chairs.”

Standing alone in the kitchen’s center, holding five pounds of cold potatoes, Jace shook his head. When it came to caring for his children, he couldn’t ask for a better surrogate mom.

A sudden realization struck.

All those years ago, when he’d wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out after the embarrassment and pain of Amanda’s betrayal, his mother had told him everything happens for a reason. At the time, he hadn’t believed her. Now, wearing a dumb grin while gratitude swelled his throat, he finally understood his mother was right. Amanda’s leaving had been a blessing. For if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t be the father of two beautiful girls. Moreover, he wouldn’t have met Emma.

“How can you be grinning at a time like this?”

“Like what?” he asked.

“You know what,” she said, gently placing Bronwyn in her high chair, then attaching the tray. “Vicki could be out there right now, and—”

“Stop,” Jace demanded, hating the harshness in his tone, but unsure how else to snap Emma from her fear. “So what if she is out there? What’s she going to do? This is our home. Our supper time. And by God, I want some of your mashed potatoes in my growling stomach.”

For the longest time, she stared at him, and then burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, taking the potato peeler from the drawer alongside the stove.

“You. Trying to act all tough, but I know you’re a teddy bear.” Hugging him from behind, she said softly, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He turned to face her.

“Bringing me back to reality. You’re right. And I’m tired of letting Vicki run my life.”

“Good for you.” He kissed her forehead. “Now, do I finally get my potatoes?”

“YOU’RE AWFULLY QUIET,” Pam noted on Thursday afternoon. Will was riding home with Jace so that they could all share dinner.

“Sorry,” Emma said, covering a yawn. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” What she didn’t tell her friend was that worry about Vicki was keeping her awake.

“Take a nap,” Pam suggested. “It’s at least an hour till the guys get home. The girls and I will watch a movie.”

“That’s okay,” Emma said. “Thanks for the offer, though. I’ve never been much good at falling asleep during the day.”

Pam shrugged, flipping through Jace’s extensive DVD collection. “What do you want to watch?”

Yawning again, Emma said, “You pick.”

The look her friend cast her way was filled with concern, which Emma hated being the cause of. “Sure you’re okay?”

She nodded.

Pam put an action adventure in the DVD player, snatched the babies from their playpen, and then settled in Jace’s recliner. “All right, ladies, study this movie and Auntie Pam promises you’ll never take crap from anyone.”

Emma snorted.

“What?”

“You. After you have the baby, you should enlist.” Laughing, Emma stretched out on the sofa, vowing to try harder to quit worrying, and get on with the business of loving her life.

Though the movie was one of Emma’s favorites, the couch was comfy, and her eyelids grew heavy. Her breathing slowed, and for the first time in days, she unclenched her muscles to relax.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Jace said, kissing Emma awake. “How long have you been out?”

Looking to Pam and her husband, she shook her head and grinned. “Last thing I remember, The Rock had blown up a bridge.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Pam said. “She was out before The Rock had even taken out his first bad guy, let alone the bridge.”

“Good, she needed the sleep.” Jace kissed her again before taking the girls from Pam. “Did you two stay awake through the movie?”

Both grinned.

The sight of Jace and his twins never failed to warm Emma, which was why, when the phone rang, for the first time in days the shrill tone didn’t quicken her pulse.

“Want me to get it?” Pam asked.

“Nah.” Jace had his hands full, so Emma went to answer. “It’s probably my mom. She’s been threatening a trip down.”

“Uh-oh,” Will teased. “Jace, looks like you’re in trouble.”

“I can handle it,” Jace said.

Before picking up, Emma shot a grin over her shoulder. “Hello?”

As she listened to the man on the other end of the phone, Emma’s knees turned to rubber. Her responses were automatic. Her brain was already racing ahead to ensuring the girls’ safety, to guaranteeing the one woman capable of destroying her and Jace’s fragile happiness didn’t succeed. Vicki had had her chance with the girls. She’d given them up. She no longer deserved them.

“Em?” Jace stood before her, Bea and Bronwyn grinning in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“V-Vicki,” Emma stammered. “The front-gate guards are holding her.”

“COULD I please see my babies?” Vicki asked upon seeing Jace leave his Mustang solo.

Two MPs stood nearby.

The early-evening air was suffocating, with no breeze and baked-in heat still rising from the blacktop. The pine forest glowered in shadows. Hot road tar overrode the usually spicy-smelling conifers.

The taller of the MPs asked, “Need us to stay, sir?”

“No, thank you,” Jace said with a sharp salute. “I’ll handle it from here.”

“You’ll handle it?” Vicki asked, voice hollow. “We’re talking about my children.”

“Our children, and for the record, you were the one who gave them up.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” she said, hiccupping through tears. “I thought leaving the girls with you was best, but everyone from my f-friends to my parents thinks I’m a monster for letting them go.”

“So that’s the only reason you’re here?” Jace asked with a frown. “Because of what people think? There are lives at stake, here, Vicki. Do you have any idea what growing up with a lousy mom or dad can do to a kid?”

“No, all right? I don’t. But I have enough friends who do that I would’ve thought they’d understand. I w-was a horrible mother. I couldn’t ever calm them, or keep them on a schedule. I never knew if I was doing anything right.”

“All of which are great reasons for you to have given the babies to me.”

“I know, but what kind of mother gives her babies away? I can’t live with the shame.”

Softening his tone, he asked, “Even if by leaving the girls in my care, they have a better shot of turning out well-adjusted and happy?”

“I—I don’t know,” she wailed. “I just don’t know.”

Jace hadn’t been raised to let a woman cry—especially not the mother of his children, no matter how much he happened to despise her. That being the case, he hugged Vicki awkwardly. “Why don’t you, um, leave your car here and come back to my place? Once you see how happy the twins are, maybe you’ll have an easier time with your decision.”

Sniffling, she nodded.

Easing his arm around her slumped shoulders, he guided her to his car, praying Em would understand his reasoning behind bringing their family’s potential ruin into their home.

“WHAT IS she doing here?” Emma asked under her breath. While Pam held Bea, Emma clutched Bronwyn for all she was worth. How dare he bring that woman into their home? What if Vicki snatched the babies and ran? How would Emma survive losing them?

What about Jace? her conscience asked. He would be devastated.

“Relax,” he said. “She’s not here to cause trouble.”

Emma asked, “How do you—”

“I—I’m sorry about the other day at the beach.” Emma was surprised to find Vicki speaking to Pam. Hands tightly clasped at her waist, even in the living room’s dim light, her skin looked pale and splotchy—as if she’d been crying. Her blond hair hung ratted and unkempt. Her jeans and yellow T-shirt were rumpled and, in spots, stained. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Coming on so strong like that.”

“You scared us,” Pam said, Bea on her hip. “What’s wrong with you? Approaching total strangers like that? How did you even know who we were? Did you follow us off of the base?”

“Whoa,” Jace said to Pam. “Let her catch her breath. This is tough for her.”

“Tough for her?” Pam asked. “She abandoned her own children. Why should we make his easier for her?”

“Maybe we should go,” Will suggested, his arm around Pam’s waist, already guiding her toward the door. “Honey, give Jace his baby.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pam asked. “These are our friends. How can we leave them at a time like this?”

Vicki chimed in with, “I promise not to do anything rash.”

Passing Bea to Jace, Pam snorted. “Your promises aren’t worth the breath you use to say them.”

“Honey,” Will nudged, “remember your condition. Let’s go.”

“I’m fine,” Pam argued on her way out the door. “And how dare you imply that just because I’m pregnant, I’m in any way overly emotional when it comes to…”

With Pam still railing out on the front porch, her husband said, “Jace, Em, call if you need anything, and I’ll be right over.” Winking, he added, “I’ll leave my pit bull at home.”

“I heard that!” Pam shouted from the front walk.

Once the couple had left, an eerie calm settled over Emma as though she finally realized that no matter how badly she wanted to keep the girls, the issue was every bit as out of her control as losing Henry had been. Oh—make no mistake, with every breath in her body, she wanted to fight Vicki, but what little of her reasoning skills Emma still possessed reminded her that the twins weren’t in any way hers.

“May I?” Vicki asked, holding out her arms to hold Bea.

When Jace handed over the baby, it was all Emma could do to keep from crying out. Was this the beginning of the end of their family?

Vicki clutched Bea to her, cupping the back of her head, but whereas Emma would’ve expected Bea to know this was her true mother, the infant instead squirmed and fussed. “Shhh…” Vicki crooned. “It’s okay. We used to be friends, remember?”

Bea fussed all the more.

Squeezing her eyes shut, silent tears streaming down her cheeks, Vicki’s expression flashed from sadness to impatience to…frustration? “Here,” she said, returning Bea to Jace. “See what I was talking about? There’s just never been a connection. Is that normal?”

Back in her father’s arms, Bea calmed. “Seeing how I’m kind of new to this whole parenthood thing, I’d hardly be an expert in what’s normal. What I do know, Vicki, is that no matter what your friends and family say, if you don’t feel motherhood is for you, then you’re doing the responsible thing in stepping away.”

Nodding, Vicki crumpled onto the sofa.

Emma fought to keep hold of her fear, distrust and hatred of the woman. But looking at Vicki now, slumped shoulders defeated, wiping her tear-stained cheeks, Emma felt sorry for her.

How awful it would be to be rejected by your own child.

Looking toward Emma, Vicki said, “I’m sorry to you, too, for the way I acted at the beach. I never meant to hurt anyone. I just want to feel normal again. I’m tired of everyone I love thinking the worst of me. If I could just take my babies back, then everything would return to normal, and then—”

“Back up the truck,” Jace said, standing, only to brace his hands on his knees. “At the guard station, you said you didn’t think you were even fit to be a mother. Now, you want to take another try?”

Nodding, back to crying, she said. “I—I think so. I must’ve been doing it wrong. But maybe if I try again, things will be different. I just can’t face my parents, knowing what I’ve done.”

Emma asked, “You mean giving your babies away?”

“Yes,” Vicki said. “But now, after seeing them again, I’m thinking my folks were right and I just didn’t try hard enough.” Up from the sofa, the woman crossed to the playpen, lifting Bea for a hug. “See? She seems fine now. Once I get her and her sister home, we’ll all make a fresh start.”

Chapter Fifteen

Listening to Vicki’s seesaw psychobabble, Jace couldn’t remember the last time he’d been more furious. “Are you even aware of what you’re saying? One minute, you’re raving about how you don’t even feel capable of being a good mother, the next, you want to give parenthood another try.” Tapping his temple, he said, “You need help.”

“Jace…” Emma’s voice was soft, caring—completely unsuitable considering the fact that Jace was on the verge of losing his girls to a madwoman. “I think what Vicki’s trying to say is that she’s not sure what she wants.”

“You think?” He wasn’t proud of his sarcastic tone, but in all of his training, he’d never been taught to be gentle before heading into battle. And make no mistake, if Vicki thought she was taking the twins, she was in for one helluva fight.

“We should sympathize with her,” Emma reasoned. “Understandably, Vicki’s in an impossible situation. Were either of us in her place, we’d no doubt be confused, too.”

“That’s what I mean,” Vicki said. After relaying the same information she’d shared with him back at the guard station, Vicki went on to say to Emma, “I’m so glad someone finally understands. Are you a parent?”

“She’s my fiancée,” Jace said, saving Emma the pain of explaining her loss.

“So you two are like…” Vicki’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. I had no idea. How long have you been together?”

“Not long,” Emma said.

“A while,” Jace said.

“Which is it?” Eyebrows raised, Vicki looked to them both.

“Long enough.” Pacing, Jace asked, “Vicki, tell me something.”

“Sure.” She angled on the sofa to face him.

“When you first left the twins with me, you mentioned not being able to afford them. You worked two jobs, and still couldn’t make your bills and college tuition.”

“Yes.” Her gaze turned to her hands that she held clenched on her lap.

“What’s changed? How can you suddenly afford two kids, whereas a few months ago, you couldn’t? Did you graduate from college? Land a great new job?”

“No, but I assume you’d pay child support, right?”

“Of course, but beyond the financial considerations, how are you going to find time to care for the girls? You’re in class all day. Work all night. Who’s going to bathe them and feed them and tuck them in?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Rubbing at her temples, she said, “I’ll figure it out.”

Standing in front of her, Jace said, “But don’t you see? If you’d just agree to leave the girls with Emma and me, they’d never want for anything. We could guarantee them the kind of idyllic family life you never could—at least not in the immediate future.”

Mouth dry, Jace had never wished so hard for anything in his life than for Vicki to come around to his way of thinking.

Poor Emma looked lost, Bronwyn asleep with her head on Em’s shoulder. Jace wanted to reach out to her.

Forcing a shuddering breath, Vicki said, “You’re right, Jace. About everything. But how do I get past worrying about what other people think?”

“That, I can’t tell you,” he said, moving to lean against the kitchen doorjamb, searching for the right thing to say. “Have you explained to your parents and friends how you really feel? That motherhood just isn’t for you?”

“It’s not like I go around advertising it. I’m not proud of the fact.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Emma said, absentmindedly brushing Bronwyn’s hair, “how old are you, Vicki?”

“Twenty-two.”

That young? Jace blanched. At the time he’d been with her, she would’ve been twenty, twenty-one. She sure as hell had looked older than that. Had he known how young she really was, he never would’ve invited her to get a room.

He looked up only to catch Emma’s eyes. Did she think badly of him for being with a woman over ten years his junior?

Emma’s expression was unreadable. “Do you think maybe you’re not ready to be a mom? No offense, but you are awfully young, in many ways, a child yourself, with your whole life ahead of you.”

Silently crying again, Vicki nodded.

“I’m not saying this to be cruel,” Emma continued, “but to try to help you clarify your feelings. Of course you love the girls. They’re your flesh and blood, but—” Emma broke down, too.

“What’s wrong?” Jace asked.

Still holding Bronwyn, Emma dashed for the nursery.

Jace followed. “Hey…” he prompted, standing behind her at the paned window that looked out on the shadowy backyard. The pink floral curtains were ruffled, trimmed with bows and lace. At first, the full-on femininity had bugged the hell out of him. Now, he liked them. Liked the way his girls looked when silhouetted by them. Emma had even replaced his leaning computer desk with a white-painted, feminine version. The completed room was a tribute to princesses of all ages, and it killed him seeing Em cry. “We were making headway in there. What’s wrong?”

The look she cast him crushed his heart. Her red-rimmed eyes appeared haunted, overwhelmed with pain. Still, she said nothing.

“Em? Talk to me. What’s going through your head?”

She laughed through her tears. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked.”

Turning away from him, pressing Bronwyn to her, she whispered, “I can’t do this. Stand in there telling a mother to give me her children. I’ve lost a child. I know all too well that kind of pain. Taking the twins from Vicki isn’t right.”

“Tell me what is?” Jace demanded quietly, taking the baby from her, tucking her into her crib. Emma’s hands in his, he said, “Vicki told us she’s a lousy mom. You, on the other hand, are an amazing mother. These girls are my flesh and blood, too, Em. What am I supposed to do? Turn my children over to a woman every bone in my body tells me is unfit, just because her family’s put her on a guilt trip? Or, do I fight with everything in me to keep those girls here? With us? Where I know they’ll be safe. Are you with me?”

“Of course. You know I only want the best for them. But in the same regard, who am I to say that this time around, Vicki won’t get it right? That her parents won’t give her the financial and emotional support she needs to make it through school and start a new life? There are millions of single moms out there doing an amazing job raising their kids. All I’m saying is that I don’t know how I’d live with myself if I were a party to manipulating a woman into giving up her children.”

Dropping Em’s hands, Jace took a step back. “Where is this coming from? A few days ago, you were begging me to do whatever it took to keep the girls with us. Now, you’d be willing to give them away?”

“I’m not saying that at all. You’re twisting my words.” Arms crossed, she stormed to their bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Torn, Jace wasn’t sure whether to go to the woman he loved or the woman who held his girls’ future in her hands.

“Jace?” Vicki stood in the hall, Beatrice fussing in her arms. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, brushing past her on his way to the kitchen. He needed a beer. ASAP.

Unfortunately, Vicki followed.

“I never meant to come between you and your fiancée.”

Jace shrugged. “Guess I only have myself to blame.”

He took her silence as agreement.

“What now?” he asked.

“I need time.” Handing Bea to him, she said, “Can I think about things overnight? Get back to you tomorrow?”

“Sure. I’ll give Bea to Emma. Let her know I’m taking you to your car.”

After knocking on the bedroom door, he entered the gloom. The sun had set, and the only light spilled from the bathroom.

On the bed, Emma rested on her side, hugging a pillow while staring out the window at the dark backyard. Since she’d taken over the space, feminine touches were everywhere. A vase of fresh garden lilies on the nightstand. Floral throw pillows on the oversized arm chair she used for reading. Once-beige walls were now a shade she called robin’s-egg blue. The room even smelled of her spicy-flowery perfume. The gung-ho Marine in him should’ve been repulsed, but what could he say? Emma’s way of living had become his. She’d transformed his once-ordinary, government-issued house into a home.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Yes. Just tired.” Her usually melodic voice sounded hoarse and scratchy. He should’ve gone to her. Gathered her into his arms and told her everything would be all right. But now, he didn’t know if things would turn out right even for him, let alone the two of them. Her siding with Vicki had been the equivalent of getting shot by friendly fire.

“Okay, well…” Setting Bea on the bed beside Emma, he said, “I’m taking Vicki back to her car. Bronwyn’s asleep, but would you mind looking after this one while I’m gone?”

“Of course.” She drew Bea close.

“Thanks.” Hands shoved in his pockets, he wanted to say more—needed to—but couldn’t find words.

“You’re welcome.” Tone flat, she might as well have been talking to the wall.

Jace sighed. Sometime during the last fifteen minutes, the woman he’d planned on spending the rest of his life with had become a stranger. “When I get back, we should talk.”

“If you’d like.” The formality she’d had when they’d first met was back in full force.

Exasperated, Jace just shook his head and left the room.

“IT JUST occurred to me,” Emma whispered to Bea after hearing Jace slam the front door, “that you and your sister never got dinner. Hungry?”

The infant stared, wide-eyed and curious, drinking everything in.

“Is that a yes or no?” Emma asked, her heart aching over what they’d all just been through.

Grinning, Beatrice grabbed for Emma’s nose. “Gaaaa!”

“Do you have any idea how cute you are?”

“Grruulaaa!” Bea got hold of Emma’s nose and squeezed hard!

“Ouch. Take it easy.” Scooping the baby into her arms, Emma said, “Let’s check on your sister. She might be hungry, too.”

In the nursery, Bronwyn was still sound asleep, so Emma settled Bea into her high chair, and warmed pureed ham, peas and yams.

With Bea kicking in anticipation, Emma stole a chair from the kitchen table, and then sat in front of the infant with her baby plate and spoon. “Hold your horses. I’m getting you fed as fast as I can.”

“Blaggaagh!”

The front door opened then closed.

Emma shut her eyes. She wasn’t ready to deal with Jace. The closer his footfalls came, the more her muscles tensed.

“Hey,” he said, setting his keys and wallet on the counter. “Thanks for feeding the munchkin.”

“No problem,” she said, giving Bea another bite of yams.

“Bronwyn still sleeping?”

Emma nodded.

“Look,” he said, scuffing his right combat boot’s toe against the yellow linoleum. “I don’t know how to do this, other than to come right out and say it, so here goes.”

Stomach churning, Emma forced herself to keep right on feeding.

“Mind further explaining your sudden one-eighty on Vicki running off with my kids?”

“I’m busy right now.” Rising to get a dishcloth, and then dampen it with warm water, Emma used it to mop Bea’s orange-and-green face. “This poor girl was starving. I can’t believe we forgot to feed her.”

“Em…” Jace pushed himself up onto the counter and braced his hands on his knees. “I need you to tell me what just happened. How you could turn on me like that?”

“Turn on you? Jace, this isn’t exactly a black or white, right or wrong issue. Can you try looking at this from Vicki’s point of view? Like I told you, I know the pain of losing a child. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone—especially because I selfishly want their twins for myself.”

“What happened to you loving me? The girls? To us becoming a family and sharing our point of view?”

She swallowed the knot in her throat. “You have to know I will always want what’s best for you and Bea and Bronwyn, but that doesn’t give me the moral right to interfere with Vicki’s decision.”

“Oh—she already made her decision. Remember how we met? Because two babies had been abandoned with me?”

Bea had finished everything on her plate, so Emma busied herself cleaning the girl and her plastic tray. “You obviously haven’t heard a word I’ve said. You know that more than anything, I want us to be a family, but at what cost? I couldn’t live with myself if I knew Vicki for sure wanted to raise her babies, but we somehow talked her out of it.”

Jace shot her a dirty look before sharply exhaling.

He hopped down from the counter and left the room.

The house’s front door opened and then shut.

Emma bowed her head, covering her face with her hands. What a mess she’d made of everything.

Bea started whining, so Emma unlatched the high chair’s tray and lifted her out. “You’ve got peas in your hair.”

The girl blew a raspberry, resulting in orange drool dribbling down her chin.

“You need a bath.”

“Graggulah.”

“I’m glad you agree.” Emma was also glad for the distraction of bathing Bea. By the time her bath was finished, the baby was yawning, and she put up little fuss when Emma placed her in her crib.

Bronwyn was still sleeping, so Emma grabbed the baby monitor from the dresser, and ambled into the kitchen. Never had she wanted more to talk to Jace. To hold him. Be held by him.

His keys and wallet were still on the counter, meaning he couldn’t have gone far.

Monitor in hand, she checked the front porch, but he wasn’t there. “Jace?”

When he didn’t reply, she headed for the backyard. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she shouted, “Jace!”

“Damn, woman, can’t you just leave me in peace?” He stepped out of the shadowy pine forest bordering the lawn.

“I would have been glad to if you’d told me where you were going.” Hands on her hips, she added, “I was worried.” Scared to death really, when she thought of the possibility of never seeing him again. Melodramatic, but there you had it. She needed him. Just like she needed his girls.

“I’m sorry,” he said, cupping her face with his hands. “I needed to blow off some steam.”

“No, I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she said, giving him an awkward hug with the baby monitor still in her hand. “You were right. If anything, I should’ve stayed out of the whole conversation. It’s none of my business.”

“That’s just it, Em. If you’re going to be my wife—the twins’ mom—this issue very much involves you. Someone’s going to get hurt. What you need to decide is whether that someone is Vicki, you or me.”

Chapter Sixteen

Jace stormed into the house, grabbed his keys and wallet, then left. He knew retreating in the middle of battle was never a smart move, but when his frustration rose to its current level, nothing good happened.

He drove aimlessly for about an hour, hitting the old highway that ran along the beach. He rolled down his windows, dragging in the warm, salty air, searching for mental clarity he feared may never come.

One part of him felt Emma feeling sorry for Vicki was traitorous. Another part got where she was coming from, but seriously didn’t like it.

Truth be known, a good portion of his inner turmoil had to do with sudden doubts over whether he’d made a mistake in launching such a hasty relationship with the nanny. All along, had Granola been right? Really, what did Jace know about Emma, other than the fact that she took great care of his girls and she was a fantastic kisser? What if Vicki’s arrival had made her realize it wasn’t him she loved, but his babies? What if urging Vicki to take the girls was Em’s version of an easy out?

Maybe his best course of action would be slowing things down. Yes, they would remain friends, and he prayed Emma would stay on as a nanny, but as for marrying her? His aching hurt urged him to slow down.

BACK HOME, Jace found Emma asleep in his recliner, the baby monitor on her lap. Her beauty was ethereal. Milky skin highlighted by her spill of dark hair. She was small in stature, but never had he been more aware of her slight build than now, seeing her in the big chair. She had a fragility about her that left him questioning his harsh stance. Maybe more than he needed her, she needed him. But then, playing the devil’s advocate, was that a good enough reason to marry?

Chest tightening, he soundlessly closed and locked the door, tossed his keys and wallet on the sofa, then scooped her into his arms, carrying her to a more comfortable position in their bed.

With a faint mew, she shifted to fit herself to him as he carried her. “You’re home…” her voice was sleep-sexy. The way she twined her arms around him, exhaling warm, moist breaths against his bare neck was erotic as hell.

“Sorry I took off on you like that,” he managed, turning sideways to get them through the bedroom door.

“I understand.”

“Thanks.” After laying her on the bed, he snatched his pillow and an afghan from the back of her reading chair.

“What are you doing?” she asked, rising on her elbows.

“Until we figure things out, I thought it might be best for me to take the couch.”

“Oh.” Her single word conveyed so much. Disappointment, confusion, even anger.

“It’s nothing personal. I just need some distance. You know, time to get my head on straight.”

“Sure. I get it.”

Great. Because looking at her in the moonlight, he wasn’t entirely sure he got it. If they were to have any shot at making it as a couple, wasn’t the whole point to lean on Em when he was mixed up? To let her support him when he couldn’t handle life on his own?

“Jace?”

“Yeah?” His tone came out rougher than he’d intended, especially considering how soft and inviting her voice had been.

“Never mind.” Had she intended to beg him back to her side?

“No, what were you about to say?” Because if she did want him beside her, he was physically and mentally weary enough to comply.

“Nothing. Goodnight.”

IT WAS official. Emma’s beautiful new life was falling apart.

Along with Vicki’s announcement that she would be staying in Olive with a college friend—indefinitely—an awkwardness had come between her and Jace. The past week, during the day, he kept his usual schedule. She followed her usual routine. Breakfast conversation was painfully stiff and polite. Jace no longer called just to chat at lunch. At night, instead of caring for Bronwyn and Bea together, Jace packed them up and met Vicki. Be it a park, mall or the beach, he spent more time with her, and less with Emma.

Emma wanted to break the wall between them, but how? His rationale in being with Vicki by supervising her time with the girls was spot-on. As was his reasoning for not wanting the woman camping at their home, by her mere presence causing Emma pain. All of his words and deeds were noble, so why, then, did Emma feel they were more like strangers than an engaged couple?

Without the infants to care for, Emma’s evenings were a chore to get through. She’d busied herself with painting the kitchen a sunny yellow. She’d deep-cleaned everything from the mini-blinds to the baseboards. She’d scrubbed the bathtub and toilets and even resorted to calling her mother in an effort to combat mounting loneliness and fear.

Fear of losing Bea and Bronwyn.

Fear of losing Jace.

Fear of losing herself again.

With her mother, Emma was careful to present a cheerful front. Chattering about how much the girls had grown, and how Jace might be up for a rank promotion. When her mother warned Emma that she had grown too close to the man too soon, Emma brushed off her worries, assured her mother that she had never felt more alive. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Not really. Because this sense of always being on alert had heightened Emma’s every sense.

By Thursday night, when Emma heard the front door open then close, the bedside digital clock read 10:23. Next, came the familiar thump of Jace’s kicked-off combat boots hitting the floor. Another thump was probably the diaper bag. He made a side trip to the nursery, and it took everything in her to keep her from going to him and the girls. Lord, how she wanted to. But she felt like an unwelcome guest in his home. A few minutes later came the muffled sounds of him in the hall bathroom. Next, a trip to the kitchen, judging from the jiggle of condiments in the fridge door.

It was 10:47 before Jace wound his way to her. Emma considered feigning sleep, but what good would that have done? “How did it go?”

He jumped. “Man, you scared me. I thought you were asleep.”

“Sorry.”

From the shadows came the whisper of him removing his shirt, then his thick camo pants. “I’m going to grab a quick shower. Vicki’s friend smokes. I told her not to around the girls, but the apartment still stinks.”

“Okay.” Hurry back, Emma wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t leave her tongue.

Eyes closed, she imagined him in the shower.

His sun-bronzed skin sudsy and wet. Mouth dry, she imagined holding him against her. Nothing between them but thoughts of acting on the fantasies playing out in her mind.

Rolling over, Emma tried not to think about him. His coarse, hair-covered chest pressed against the pliant warmth of her breasts. She especially tried not thinking about how wonderful it would feel to have him spooning her. Not so much for sex, but comfort. Safety. Knowing that just as he’d been there for her before Vicki’s arrival, he would still be there after the younger woman had gone.

Jace turned off the shower. She heard him lightly whistling, presumably while toweling dry. His closet door creaked open, and a minute later, his side of the bed depressed from his weight. “We need to talk.”

“It’s awfully late.” Though she was wide awake, the last thing Emma wanted was a serious conversation. She wanted to hug him and laugh with him and share heated kisses.

“Sorry,” Jace said, “it can’t be helped. I’ve got early flight times, and before tomorrow there are a few things we need to work out.” Seeing as she was positioned on her side with her back facing him, he skimmed his hand over the portion of her shoulder peeking out from her flimsy pink cotton nightgown. “Roll over,” he urged. “Look at me.”

“It’s dark.”

“You know what I mean.” Yes, she did. But the part of her that, after losing Henry, then Rick, had faced enough conflict for a lifetime wanted to hide. This time around was supposed to have been different. “These nights with Vicki have been tough.”

“I can imagine.”

“Thank you for having the girls ready for me to take, but in the future, I think you should come along.”

“Why?” Emma couldn’t imagine sitting in a cramped, stinking apartment with nothing to look at but the woman intent on taking her kids.

“Vicki has been putting out not-so-subtle feelers about the two of us giving it a go.”

Rising onto her elbow, Emma asked, “Like romantically? You and her? What did you do to give her the notion that such a thing was even a possibility?”

“I didn’t do a damned thing,” he bristled. “If you want someone to blame, try looking in the mirror. You and I aren’t exactly presenting a united front.”

“I didn’t think you even wanted me there.”

“Why would I not? You are, after all, going to be the woman raising my girls. I would think you’d want a say in everything to do with their wellbeing. Especially when it comes to their custody.”

“So Vicki still hasn’t made up her mind?”

Sighing, lying flat on his back while staring up at the humming ceiling fan, he said, “I thought she had, but lately she’s been asking some pretty pointed questions.”

“Such as?”

“Like why should she even trust you to raise her girls if you can’t take the time out of your day—or night—to meet with her?”

“That’s ludicrous,” Emma railed. “You know full well why I haven’t gone with you.”

“Do I?” The question hung in the air.

“It’s because I want to give you space.”

“Fair enough. But what if I told you I’ve had enough? What I want now is to slam Vicki with a united front. I want to show her what a true mother is, Em, and up until this whole nightmare with Vicki started, I believed you were the real deal. The woman I’ve waited my whole life to find.”

I am! Emma’s heart screamed. But that was as far as her protestations could go. Maybe, with her history, she wasn’t anywhere near the woman Jace thought her to be. But for him, for the girls, she would try. “What do you need me to do?”

“Saturday, Vicki’s parents will be in town. I’ve invited them out for lunch, and I’d like you to be with us.”

“Of course.” Though her voice came across as strong and sure, her insides were quaking. “But aren’t Vicki’s parents the ones pushing her to keep the twins?”

“Yep. Now, what we have to do is convince them there have never been two better parents in the world than me and you.”

Sounded great in theory, but the problem was that Emma didn’t believe that. The part of her still hurting from Rick’s accusations had festered to the point that the only time she felt one-hundred-percent certain about anything having to do with the girls was when she held them, rocked them, witnessed the magic of their smiles. She fiercely loved them. But when it came to Emma deserving to raise them more than their natural mother, was love enough?

“WHAT DO you do?” Vicki’s mother, Helen, asked Emma Saturday from her side of the table at Olive’s only Italian restaurant, Tucci’s. The woman was heavyset with dyed blond hair styled into a short helmet. Her makeup was applied a bit thick, with particular emphasis on green eye shadow that matched her palm-tree-themed pantsuit.

“Right now, I’m primarily the girls’ caretaker, but when I lived in Chicago, I worked in foreign investments.”

“What brought you to our neck of the woods?” Vicki’s father, Frank, asked around a bite of chicken parmesan.

“My work was very stressful. I needed a change of scenery.”

Jace listened to the conversation’s ebb and flow, but in particular, he focused on body language. The possessive hold Em had on Bronwyn. The equally claiming hold Helen had on Bea, despite how the older woman favored her left shoulder. Though the topic hadn’t once landed on the matter at hand—who would eventually be raising the girls—Jace, at least, felt it peppering every word.

“I feel for you,” Frank said. “I was an air traffic controller, and after my first heart attack, my doc told me to get out of the field or get my affairs in order within the next year.”

Seeing a politically correct entry to the topic at hand, Jace cleared his throat. “It’s interesting you should mention stress, sir. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but Vicki told me that you and Helen have promised to care for the girls when Vicki’s in class. My question is, in light of your health, how do see handling the care of two growing girls?”

“We’ll manage,” Helen snapped.

“I don’t doubt that you will,” Jace said, “but Helen, you’re already favoring a sore shoulder. Bursitis?”

“A touch,” she bristled. “But I fail to see how that in any way affects Vicki resuming her rightful role as the girls’ mother.”

Vicki, who had been buttering a crusty roll for the past five minutes, said, “Mom, I think what Jace is trying to say politely is that you and Daddy aren’t getting younger, yet the girls are growing by the day. We’ve talked about this before—how you two promise to share the burden of watching the girls, but realistically, it just isn’t possible.”

“Stop this,” Helen hissed under her breath to her daughter. “You’re not only acting as if your father and I already have one foot in the grave, but like you’re back to wanting to give up these girls. You are their mother, Victoria, and you will raise them. We didn’t bring you up to run from responsibility.”

“I hate to jump into family business,” Em quietly said, “but I think what Vicki’s trying to get across is that you all have tried raising the girls and had a tough time. So tough a time that Vicki felt she had no other option than to virtually abandon the girls with their father. Helen, Frank, again, with all due respect, I know you both mean well, but maybe you need to take a step back and consider your own responsibilities in doing what’s best for Vicki.”

Helen harrumphed. “Frank, Vicki, I think we should leave.”

Frank placed his hand on his wife’s arm. “Helen…”

“What?” Vicki’s mother asked. “I refuse to be bullied into making a premature decision. Especially when it concerns a topic as crucial as who will raise our grandchildren.” Bea still in her arms, the older woman reached for her purse—no easy task. After considerable grunting, she pushed her chair back.

Blood boiling, under the table Jace grabbed hold of Em’s hand and squeezed. “Ma’am, again, the last thing I want you to feel is bullied. But the fact is that we’re not talking about Vicki leaving your grandchildren with strangers. I am the girls’ father. As such, I give you my word that you would always be welcome to take part in their lives. Mobile isn’t that far away. You could come for weekends.”

“The man makes sense,” Frank said to his wife.

“Excuse me,” Vicki said. “You all are acting as if I’m not even here.”

“You essentially haven’t been,” Helen snapped, “which is why your father and I have had to step in.”

The waiter arrived with the dessert cart. “Anyone save room for tiramisu?”

“Could you please give us some privacy?” Jace asked.

Raising his eyebrows, the waiter nodded, and then backed away.

Bea had begun to fuss in Helen’s arms. The woman jiggled and cooed, but neither worked. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” she said. “Here…” She rose and walked around the table to pass the infant to her daughter.

“Shh…” Vicki said, cradling the baby to rock her back and forth. “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“Yes,” Helen said, “Everything will be fine when you come to your senses and take back your girls. You act as if this is some kind of game. Like when you get tired of children you can simply give them away. How would you feel if Daddy and I had put you up for adoption?”

Vicki snorted. “Better.”

“Ladies…” Frank warned, “this isn’t the place.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Vicki insisted, having no luck with calming Bea. “It’s the perfect place. All my life, Mom has been making decisions for me. What to wear, who my friends should be. What college I should go to. What sorority to join. Did you ever think the reason I ended up in this position is because for once in my life I wanted to be free?” To Jace, while still jiggling Bea, she said, “Sorry, but our one night was more about me proving something to myself, than wanting to be with you. Don’t get me wrong. Everything was—” she blushed “—you know what I mean. I just had to do something—anything—to prove I was my own person.”

“And look how well that turned out,” Helen said.

Bea launched into a full-on wail.

Since Emma already held a sleeping Bronwyn, Jace released her hand. Rising, he said to Vicki, “I’ll take her.”

Vicki’s expression transformed from annoyance to relief. “Mom, I love you, but you’ve got to get your own life and stop living mine. The fact is, no matter how much you think you want to play grandma, if I choose to take back the girls, the decision is between no one but me and Jace.”

Chapter Seventeen

With the girls sleeping in their safety seats, instead of steering Emma’s station wagon straight for home, Jace headed down the old coastal highway. The outside air was brutal. Ninety-five degrees with eighty-percent humidity. On the horizon, gun-metal-gray cumulus clouds towered. Inside the vehicle, all was well with the AC blasting.

“Where are you going?”

Casting a sideways glance, he said, “In case you hadn’t noticed, that whole supposedly civil lunch thing was a little tense.”

She laughed. “Really? I had a super time.”

With his left hand on the wheel, he eased the fingers of his right hand between hers. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Jumping in back there. You made some valid points. My gut feel is that Frank’s already on our side. Helen’s the nut we have to crack.”

Em winced. “These are people we’re talking about.”

“Frank and Vicki—yes. As for Helen, I’m thinking she’s part dragon.”

Releasing his hand, Emma landed a swat to his shoulder. “Straighten up.”

“Never.” He winked. “Seriously, though, as a whole, I think as weird as some moments were, overall, it was good. Our team may have a slight upper edge.” Eyeing the public beach access up ahead, Jace slowed, pulling the car into the only-half-full lot. Leaving the engine idling so as to keep the air conditioning on full speed, he pushed his seat back and sighed. “For the first time since Vicki’s arrival, I’m feeling better about our situation.” Glancing at Em, he asked, “You?”

Staring at a family unloading brightly colored beach balls and buckets, air mattresses and chairs and coolers from the back of their minivan, she crossed her arms. “I guess I was encouraged—at least until you started making all of the team references. This isn’t a game, Jace, but actual lives at stake here.”

Slamming the heel of his fist against the wheel, he said, “You think I don’t know that? These are my kids we’re talking about.”

“What happened to them being ours?”

“That changed right about the time you started feeling sorry for Vicki. Oh—I’ll concede the fact that raising these two on her own couldn’t have been fun, but I’ll never understand your one-eighty from hating Vicki to feeling sorry for her.”

Lips pressed tight, arms clasped across her chest, Em remained silent.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s going through your head. Make me understand.”

After too many empty seconds, she finally said, “We should get the girls home. They’ve been acting strangely all day. I’d like to get them back to their usual routine.”

What about our routine? Jace wanted to ask. The way we used to laugh and play and face problems together?

“They’re probably hungry, too.”

Rolling his eyes, Jace raised his seat and threw the car into Reverse. Was it just his battered ego whining, or did Emma truly care more about his kids than him?

He’d already been second in Amanda’s life. Was his heart ready to go through the same game only with different players?

THE NEXT MORNING, Emma woke to an empty bed.

It was only five-thirty. Still dark outside. Raining and windy, judging by the raindrops pelting the windows.

A quick check in the nursery showed the twins still sleeping. A flash of lightning lit her way to the living room, where she found Jace lightly snoring on the couch. For once, despite their latest argument, he’d started out beside her in the bed, so why the change?

Unable to sleep?

Unwilling to sleep alongside her?

Without a sound, she padded barefoot to him, skimming her fingers along his hair. “I love you,” she whispered. “I know that lately, it might not have seemed like it, but you and the girls mean everything to me. Without all of you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Because she’d never had a knack for expressing herself through words, she chose to express herself through the act of preparing Jace a big breakfast. There were plenty of eggs in the fridge, along with potatoes, onions and green peppers. In the freezer, she found a chub of sausage to form into patties and fry.

In no time, despite the still-blowing storm outside, the house’s small, but efficient kitchen was scented with buttery goodness. Already Emma’s mood had improved. All she and Jace needed was to get back to their normal, loving routine.

“You didn’t have to cook.”

Emma jumped. Hands to her chest, she said, “You startled me.”

Whereas Jace ordinarily would’ve apologized, he merely shrugged. “Smells good.”

“Thank you.” The instantaneous knot in her throat made it hard to speak. Other than sympathizing with Vicki’s plight—which she’d both apologized for and explained—what had she done to deserve Jace’s cold treatment?

“Need help?” The kitchen’s cramped space demanded forced proximity. Physically close enough to be kissed by his body heat, emotionally, they might as well have been on opposite sides of town.

“No, thank you…” Unless you want to keep me company.

“In that case—” he thumbed toward the front door “—I’m going to catch a quick run.”

“It’s storming. You’ll catch a chill.”

His back already to her, he said, “Back in basic training, I went through much worse.”

“What about the lightning?” Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she chased after him.

He sat on the blanket-rumpled couch, lacing his running shoes. “Trust me,” he said in a deadpan tone, “When you’ve been surrounded by sniper fire, a little lightning loses its punch.”

What if I told you I want you to stay? I want the two of us to clear the tension constantly in the air. I want—

“Catch you later.” Before she found the bravery to say what was truly in her heart, he was gone.

AN HOUR LATER, Jace returned—shivering and soaked to the bone. Without a word, he kicked off his shoes and headed for the bedroom shower.

During his run, he’d planned on sorting everything out in his mind. The custody mess with Vicki. His newborn distrust for the woman he’d thought he wanted to be his wife. But standing under the shower’s steaming spray, he’d resolved nothing more than realizing it’d been a damned stupid move to go running in the rain.

Toweled off and wearing boxers, fleece sweatpants and a T-shirt, he ambled into the kitchen. Emma stood at the sink, washing dishes.

Her breakfast sat cold.

Her posture was sunken and her expression defeated.

“This all looks good,” he lied. Grease had already congealed around the sausage and potatoes. She’d clearly gone to a lot of trouble. For him, seeing how her plate sat untouched. Had he always been such a fool? As long as he’d known her, getting her to open up about her true feelings had been about as easy as flying through enemy fire. Maybe breakfast had been her version of a waving white flag?

“Sorry I took so long,” he said, carrying both plates to the microwave.

“It’s okay,” she said over the sink’s running water.

“How about we eat, and afterwards, I’ll finish up with the cleaning?”

“That’s okay. I’m nearly done.”

Arching his head back, Jace sighed. “Em, clearly we need to talk.”

She grabbed the frying pan to scrub.

“Em…” He turned off the tap. Took the pan from her hands, set it clanging to the counter. “Like it or not, you’re going to talk to me.”

“Jace, I will, but the girls will be up any minute, and you know how I don’t like dishes to sit—”

Hands on her shoulders, he spun her to face him. “Emma. We need to talk.”

“I know.” Though she’d ducked her gaze, she at least put the still-sudsy pan on the counter. “I need to dry my hands.”

With his T-shirt, he carefully dried her every finger. “Next reason to avoid me? Hell, maybe I can help with that, too.”

“That was cruel.”

“What? The truth? Em, I get the fact that ever since Vicki showed up, our lives have been upside down. She doesn’t hold all the cards, but damn near most. I get that you feel sorry for Vicki, but I’m the man you’re supposedly marrying. Forgive me if this comes across as selfish or egotistical, like some hard-ass stereotypical Marine, but your allegiance belongs to me. Period. I’ve already been with a woman who only wanted to be with me when her back-up lover wasn’t available. I won’t go through that again.”

Tears welled in her eyes, shouting loud and clear that he’d at last gotten through. “I—I’m sorry if that’s the way I’ve made you feel. But I’m hurting, too. Lately, with all the time you’ve spent with Vicki, I feel replaceable. Like you could just move her in and the girls would have another ready-made mom. Only, this time, she’d be the real deal instead of pretend—like me.”

“That’s stupid,” he blurted. “Why would I want Vicki over you? She’s practically a kid herself. You, Em, are a woman. A maddeningly closed-off woman, but one-hundred-percent desirable all the same. I love you.” Clasping her face with both hands, he said in a ragged whisper, “I no longer function without you. And that’s scary. Freakin’ terrifying to a guy who’s supposed to be big and tough and always in control.”

“I don’t want you depend on me. It’s not healthy.”

“Is that a thinly veiled hint? Like you’re telling me you’re not dependable?”

Covering her face with her hands, she shook her head. “I didn’t mean it like that at all.”

“Then explain yourself, Em. Please. If what we share is to have any chance of working long-term, I have to know you’re there for me. One hundred percent. I deserve that. And you would never receive anything less from me.”

She nodded. “I just wish that—”

The phone rang.

When Emma reached to answer, he said, “Ignore it.”

“What if it’s Vicki?”

“So what? This is me and you we’re talking about. I really don’t want her included in the conversation.”

The ringing stopped.

“See?” he said. “Probably a salesman. Now, where were we?”

“I don’t know.”

“You were saying that you wished—”

The phone rang again.

“Dammit,” he muttered before picking up. “What?”

“Jace?” Vicki. “Is this a bad time?” Was there ever a good time?

“No,” he lied. “What’s up?”

“If you have a few minutes, I’d like to see you—Emma, too.” Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he said, “When would be good?”

“Ten? I’ll call when I reach the guard gate.”

“That works,” he said. “We’ll be here.” After hanging up, he looked to Em. Her expression landed somewhere between panic and exasperation.

She asked, “Why is she coming here?”

“Couldn’t tell you, but—”

“Ahrgggghh!”

“Bea,” Emma said, already heading for the nursery. “Meaning Bronwyn’s soon to follow. After their breakfast, they’ll need cleaning up and I wanted to spend some time with their baby-reading program this morning, too.”

Forehead furrowed, Jace wasn’t sure what to do or say. Emma confounded him.

The twins weren’t even a year old. Could they not take time from their education so that Mom and Dad could chat?

“SO THAT’S how you do that…” Vicki hovered alongside Emma while she finished diapering Bronwyn.

“Do what?” Emma asked. The procedure seemed pretty basic.

“Fasten the sticky tabs without getting them stuck to your thumbs. I never have mastered that art.”

“Bea needs her diaper changed, too. Want a turn?”

“No.” Vicki backed away. “Just curious how an expert does the job.”

“I’m hardly an expert,” Emma said, pulling up the baby’s mini jeans, then carefully tugging a pink T-shirt over her head. “Just takes practice.”

After their breakfast, the girls had needed quick baths. Vicki hadn’t wanted to help with that process, either. Instead, preferring to watch from the sidelines.

Jace, meanwhile, sat in his recliner watching golf. As long as Emma had known him—which admittedly hadn’t been a terrifically long time—he’d never shown an interest in the sport. Today, however, he stared at the TV as if watching man’s first Mars landing.

“Emma?” Vicki asked after she’d started dressing Bea.

“Um-hmm…”

“Are you and Jace all right? Like still a couple?”

“Sure,” Emma said, even though lately they’d seemed to have far more bad times than good. “Why?”

Shrugging, the younger woman said, “Just a vibe I’m getting.”

“He’s probably tired from his work. He spends an awful lot of time flying.”

“Sure. I once dated a Navy guy. He did a bunch of top-secret stuff he couldn’t tell me about. We didn’t last long. He was a horrible kisser.”

Not sure how to politely respond to such an admission, Emma just smiled and nodded.

“Are you about done in here?” Vicki asked. “I really need to talk to you and Jace—alone. Although I don’t guess the girls know what we’re saying, right?” She laughed. Only at that observation did Emma get the gist of how very young Vicki still was. She might be of an age capable of being a parent, but her maturity level still hovered in her teens.

At that moment, Emma not only fully understood Jace’s frustration with her, but loved him all the more for it. He’d obviously seen Vicki’s maturity deficit and realized that no matter how much she might feel guilty about wanting to make a good mom, odds were that it wasn’t going to happen. It was understandable that he’d fight by any means possible to keep the girls in capable hands.

To Vicki she suggested, “How about we put the girls in their playpen with some toys? They should do all right on their own for a little while.”

Nodding, Vicki said, “Sounds like a plan.”

While Jace remained motionless in his recliner, his expression as tumultuous as the weather, Vicki helped Emma transfer the girls from the nursery to the living room.

“Jace,” Emma prompted, “Vicki would like to talk with us. Could you please turn off the TV?”

Leaning in closer to the television, he asked, “Can this wait until my guy finishes this hole?”

Emma cast their guest a faint grin. “Vicki, would you like something to drink?”

“Not so much,” she said. After sitting on the couch she snatched up a throw pillow, combing her fingers through the fringed edge. “But thanks for asking.”

A round of applause erupted from the TV.

“Dammit…” Jace muttered. “So close.” With the remote, he flicked off the tournament. “Well?”

“What are you so snippy about?” Vicki asked. “I’m here to tell you good news, but if you’re going to be an ass, maybe I should just leave.”

“He’s sorry,” Emma said. “Right, Jace?”

Frowning, he said, “Vicki, being straight up, I’ve had about all I can take of your emotional tap-dance routine. One minute you want to be a supermom, the next, you’re hoping to snag Underoath tickets.”

Rolling her eyes, Vicki said, “It’s no wonder the two of us only worked in bed.”

“Don’t even go there,” Jace practically growled. “It took two to make that mistake.”

Uncomfortable with the conversation, Emma edged closer to the playpen, fussing with Bea’s T-shirt. The infant gummed a stuffed giraffe, blessedly oblivious to the tension-filled room.

Bronwyn made faces at herself in a plastic mirror.

Vicki snapped, “Being with me was a mistake?”

Clearing her throat, Emma said, “Vicki, you mentioned having good news. I, for one, would love to hear it.”

Chapter Eighteen

Arms crossed, Vicki said to Emma, “Thanks to your fiancé, I’m not even in the mood to share.”

“Cut the crap,” Jace said. “Vicki, I’m sorry—seriously, I am, but a man can only take so much, and you’ve got me this close—” he held up his thumb and forefinger “—to snapping.”

“Okay, well…” she said, targeting her words to Emma. “I got a call from one of my fashion-design professors this morning, and he said I’ve been accepted into an internship program with Brunschwig & Fils—in case you didn’t know, they’re a pretty big deal in the fabric world, so while it’s not as good as a position with Chanel, I’m still excited.”

“Where is the position?” Emma asked, stomach fluttering with excitement. Could this be the moment she and Jace had been so desperately hoping for? The one when they finally learned the girls would be theirs?

“New York City.” Drawing her lower lip into her mouth, she said, “My mom’s freaking out, but I’m taking this as a sign that all along, I was right in bringing the girls to you, Jace. No matter what my parents think, I’m not ready to be a mom. You two make a cute couple, and if it’s all right with you, Emma, I’d like for the girls to think of you as their mom and me as a distant aunt who pops in with fun presents on their birthday.” Though tears shone in Vicki’s eyes, her faint smile showed they were happy, relieved tears. The fact that she’d made her final decision had to feel good.

“I’m proud of you,” Jace said.

“Thanks.” Vicki beamed. “After lunch the other day, my folks and I had a good heart to heart. They’re not happy with my decision, but at least now they understand.” With the backs of her hands, she wiped her tears. “Plus, they really liked you two, which I think helps. You will let them visit, right? You know, after you marry?”

“Absolutely,” Emma said, fighting her own happy tears. Gazing at the girls, the knowledge that they were to be really and truly hers brought such joy she could scarcely contain it.

Jace asked, “When are you leaving?”

“Not for three weeks,” Vicki said. “But I need to head back to Mobile today to start tying up loose ends.”

“We wish you the best of luck,” Emma said. “New York is very exciting. Be sure to let us know how you’re getting along.”

“I’m going to hire a lawyer,” Jace said. “I want this to be official.”

Vicki wrinkled her nose. “Do we have to go to all that trouble?”

“Yes.” Jace rose. “I’ll need an interim address where I can send you the documents. They’ll probably need to be notarized.”

“Why do you seem angry with me?” Vicki asked. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

“It is,” he said, “but I can’t take the chance of you coming back a year—hell, even five years from now—deciding to give motherhood another go. The girls need stability. With all of the stunts you’ve pulled, from the mystery calls to accosting Em at the beach, please understand that to a certain extent, I view you as a threat.”

Back to eye-rolling, Vicki said, “Emma, I don’t know how you stand being around this guy. For one night, I thought he was fun, but on a day-to-day basis, Jace Monroe, you’re a tool.”

JACE RETURNED Vicki to her car.

Back home, he climbed the front-porch steps, and then his knees turned rubbery and buckled. He fell more than sat on the top step, and once he was down, he covered his face with his hands.

The front door creaked open. “Jace? Honey, you okay?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t know. Is all of this really over?”

Leaving the door open, presumably so she could hear the girls, she sat alongside him. “I think so. I mean, I guess technically, Vicki still has to assign sole custody to you, but she seems pretty excited about starting this new chapter in her life.”

Putting his arm around Emma’s shoulder, he drew her close. “Sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I have been a tool. Not that it’s any justification, but this whole thing with Vicki has had me in knots.”

“Me, too,” Emma said. “But just think, once those papers are signed, we can settle into a long, happy life. Just the four of us, living happily ever after.”

“Sounds good,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Real, real good.”

“YOU’RE GORGEOUS—and skinny,” Pam said on Friday night, lounging on the bed while Emma applied red lipstick and added sparkly, dangling earrings to go with her little black dress. While Pam and Will stayed with the girls, Jace and Emma were going on a swanky date. “I swear, I’ve already gained twenty pounds.”

“You have not,” Emma said, reaching for her prettiest black sequined cocktail purse high on a closet shelf. The last time she’d carried it had been to a company dinner, Rick by her side. He’d told her the bag was too flashy. She should’ve told him to suck it. “And even if you did, your hubby will still adore you.”

“I am lucky,” Pam said with a contented grin. “Just like you. For all of Jace’s faults, he’s a good man. You two are perfect for each other.”

“You really think so?” As cold as he’d been during the whole Vicki debacle, Emma had had her doubts. In the week since Vicki had been out of their lives, though, everything felt back on course. She’d signed all necessary documents, and the girls were officially his. Once they married, he’d already mentioned having Emma adopt the twins. “Maybe it’s just me, but sometimes, he seems strange. Like he’s off in another world.”

“It’s stress,” Pam assured. “You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s talk of their unit being shipped back to the Middle East. I know he won’t want to leave you and the girls.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“He’s not allowed to—which is why you didn’t hear it. Anyway, I’m guessing he’s also nervous about officially popping the question tonight. According to Will, you’re getting quite a nice bauble during dessert.”

“Hush!” Emma admonished. “Can’t you keep anything a secret?”

Covering her mouth with her hands, Pam said, “Oops.”

After giving her friend a playful glare, Emma struck a pose. “Well? Am I proposal-ready?”

“Absolutely. Jace would be a fool to want anyone but you.”

“YOU LOOK incredible,” Jace said an hour later, reaching across the candlelit table to hold her hands. “You’re always pretty, but tonight…” A low, playful wolf whistle finished his sentence.

“You’re not looking too shabby yourself,” Emma said, admiring his physique in the well-cut dark suit. His red tie made him appear more like a CEO than a Marine—either way, she loved him.

Upon their arrival at nearby Gulf Shores’ swankiest seafood restaurant, Jace had ordered champagne. Raising his glass, he said, “Here’s to that happily ever after we’ve been talking about, but had a tough time finding.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Raising her glass, she lightly touched it to his before sipping the sweet, bubbly treat.

“Sooo…” his voice had taken on a flirty, mysterious tone. “According to Granola, I’m supposed to do this after we eat, but since patience isn’t my strong suit—” From the chest pocket of his suit, he withdrew a black velvet box. Opening it, he revealed a small yet perfect pear-shaped diamond solitaire. “How about I pop the question, you say yes, and then we can enjoy our meal?”

His lopsided grin was so adorable, that she forgave him his lackluster proposal in favor of scooting around in the corner booth to answer him with a kiss. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

He slipped the ring on her finger.

They shared another toast.

Their conversation was as delicious as their meal of lobster and filet mignon; it was everything an engagement dinner should be.

What it wasn’t was the emotional release Emma so badly desired. Now that she knew Bea and Bronwyn wouldn’t be taken from her, now that she knew Jace would forever be by her side, she needed to confess one more secret.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look sad.”

Though her instinct was to brush off his question with a quick smile, she summoned the nerve to say, “There’s something I want to share with you. Something I hope will make you understand why it was so hard for me to completely side with you against Vicki.”

Brow furrowed, he said, “You’re scaring me. You aren’t about to pull an Amanda on me and announce you’re having a fling with Granola, are you?”

Casting a faint smile, she said, “Truthfully, in some ways, something like that might be easier.”

After a sharp exhale, he downed the remainder of his champagne. “Let’s hear it.”

A part of her was angered by his cavalier attitude, almost as if she’d done something wrong. It reminded her in ways of Rick and how he’d been so quick to blame. But putting herself in Jace’s position, she forged ahead. No one liked nasty surprises.

Forcing a breath, she said, “This really isn’t that big of a deal, but before we marry, I want no secrets between us.”

Palms on the table, he whispered in a harsh tone, “Are you still married? Running from cops?”

“No!” she said in an adamant whisper of her own. “How could you even think such a thing?”

“How do you think I feel? One minute, I’m having the greatest night of my life, the next, I find out the woman I love is hiding some deep, dark—”

“Stop.” Squeezing her hands into tightly controlled fists on her lap, Emma said, “You’re making this into a much bigger deal than it needs to be. I just wanted to tell you that at first, Granola—William—was right.”

“What?” Jace’s eyes narrowed.

“When we met, it was just about the babies. When I saw your ad looking for a nanny, I wanted the job to prove to myself I was a great mom to Henry. To prove my ex was a fool for having blamed me for what happened to our son. I needed to prove I could still be a great mom. I mean, I always liked you, but my main focus was on the girls. And, then—”

“Wait—” Holding his hands palms out, he said, “You’re telling me the only reason you’re with me is because of some experiment? Your baby died, so you wanted to replace him with mine?”

“That’s not at all what happened. You’re putting words in my mouth. I mean, yes, at first, that may have been the case, but now, Jace, I love you.”

Snatching the black leather folder holding the bill, he pulled a hundred from his wallet, and placed it inside. “Let’s go.”

“Jace?” There was so much she wanted—needed—to say, but he’d already stood, and was halfway across the elegant dining room to the restaurant’s exit. Trailing after him, entering the moonless night felt akin to descending into a hole. The same black depression she’d only just crawled out of. She couldn’t do it again.

Couldn’t.

Soundlessly, Jace opened the passenger-side door of his Mustang. Not only did he not look at her, but he didn’t even wait for her to get into the car.

BY THE TIME Jace drove home, it was late, meaning that thankfully, Pam and Granola weren’t in the mood to talk. After a quick debriefing on the girls’ diaper and feeding status, the couple left, leaving Jace and Emma alone.

He wanted to talk to her, but words wouldn’t come—only anger and misgivings and distrust. Like Amanda, the whole time she’d been with him, Emma had lived an entire life she hadn’t shared. She’d never lied, but she also hadn’t been entirely forthcoming.

It killed him to see her standing in the nursery doorway, arms folded, fresh tears glossing her cheeks. But dammit, he was hurting, too. Had any of what they’d shared been real? How was he ever supposed to know?

“Jace…” Her voice was so hoarse, he almost didn’t hear her over the central air’s hum. “Please talk to me. Say something—anything. I know we can get past this if you’d just let me explain.”

“You know,” he said with a sad sigh, “ordinarily, I would. But first Amanda duped me at our wedding, then Vicki pulled her stunts, and now you—the only trustworthy woman I thought was left on the planet—aside from my daughters and mother—have also played me for a fool.”

“No,” she said with a vehement shake of her head. “It wasn’t like that. You’ve never lost a child. You couldn’t begin to understand. I needed to prove I was a good mother in order to be whole. You have to believe that I never set out to hurt you.”

Hand clamped to his throbbing forehead, he said, “All I can even begin to comprehend at this point is that I want you gone. I want the pain of your so-called secret to stop hurting. But pretty much the only way to accomplish that is by cutting you out of my life.”

Her complexion pale, she said, “You don’t mean that. In the morning, once you’ve had time think about it, you’ll feel better.”

“You’re wrong. I felt better back when I was under the impression that you loved me for me—not just the girls. Besides which, I don’t have a clue what Sudden Infant Death Syndrome is. How do I even know your ex wasn’t right in placing his blame with you?”

The second the words left Jace’s mouth, and he witnessed Emma clutching the nursery’s doorknob for support, he knew he’d gone too far.

“I’m sorry,” he said, going to her, drawing her into a hug. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Don’t touch me,” she said, eerily calm, shoving him away. “Don’t ever touch me again. One thing this experience has taught me is that I’m an amazing mother. I was to my sweet baby Henry and I have been to your girls. No one—not even you—will ever take that knowledge from me.”

AFTER A sleepless night alone in Jace’s bed, Emma was relieved when his 5:00 a.m. alarm went off on the coffee table in front of the living-room sofa. He’d chosen to sleep away from her, but truth be told, after the horrible things he’d said, she was glad to be alone. Her heart had wanted to flee the night before, but the practical side of her knew it was most logical to wait until daylight.

While Jace showered then dressed for Saturday duty, Emma feigned sleep. Only after his Mustang’s powerful engine could be heard roaring off, did she get out of bed.

As on any other morning, she diapered, fed and bathed the girls. She sang to them and cuddled them and all the while, with a huge knot in her throat, told herself that saying goodbye to them wouldn’t be nearly as hard as it had been with Henry. This time, she wasn’t standing at a graveside on a bitterly cold January day. This time, she knew Bronwyn and Bea would grow and learn and thrive. And even if she couldn’t be with them, she herself would grow and learn.

Learn to not be so quick to trust.

Grow to depend on herself for emotional support.

At ten, Emma took a deep breath and called Pam. Fingers crossed, she told her friend that there had been a family emergency in Chicago. And that she had to go.

Today. At once.

Pam assured her that she would watch the girls for as long as it took Emma to return.

Upon Pam’s arrival, sidestepping her questions while accepting her comforting hug, Emma almost told her friend the truth. That she wouldn’t be coming back. Ever. But in the end, she decided against melodramatics. What was the point? More tears wouldn’t help, nor would talk.

At this point, Emma knew her fate was sealed.

As she gave the girls and Pam a final goodbye, trudged down the flower-adorned porch she so loved only to tuck her lone suitcase into the rear of her car, she had only one thought…

Jace Monroe, you’re a fool to let me go.

Or, would that be the other way around? Was she the fool for still loving him?

Chapter Nineteen

“You’re an idiot.” In Jace’s kitchen, Pam punctuated her observation by slamming a jar of baby peaches on the lowest cabinet shelf. “I should’ve known something was up the second Emma said she was leaving. Do you even know where she is?”

“Mind your own business,” Jace said, unloading hot dogs, boxed mac and cheese, bologna, white bread and those teething cookie-things the girls liked. Man food and baby food. Pretty much life’s essentials. He regretted having to rely on Pam to sit for the girls, but in the little under a week since Emma had been gone, he’d had no luck in finding new full-time help. Currently, the girls were in their living-room playpen, kicking and swatting at their baby gym. He was glad that they, at least, were for once acting normally. Since Emma’s leaving, they’d been fitful at best. Inconsolable at worst. He’d take the normalcy as a good sign. If they were getting over Em, he could, too.

“In the time she was here, Jace, Emma happened to become a good friend—which pretty much makes her leaving my business. How could you be such a fool to actually think Emma doesn’t one-hundred-percent adore you? Have you ever noticed the way she moons whenever you enter a room? And how could you say such an asinine thing as to imply that just because Emma’s poor baby died, that she was in any way a threat to your girls? SIDS is a horrible tragedy. One that—”

“I know,” Jace said, tugging a hot dog from its bag, and then popping half in his mouth to chew.

“If you know, then how could you be stupid enough—cruel enough—to treat Emma the way you have? Throwing her away like she meant nothing to you?”

“Pam—” Jace almost told off his best friend’s pregnant wife as sharply as he would a new recruit, but bit his tongue. The last thing he needed was Granola coming down on him, too.

“What, Jace?” Pam got in his face. “What can you possibly say to justify what you’ve done?”

Sighing, turning his back on her to rest his forehead against an upper cabinet, he said, “You remember how screwed up I was because of Amanda?” Laughing, turning to face her, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Bottom line, just like Amanda, Emma lied to me. Not once, but dozens of times. In retrospect, I feel like a fool. I’ve got too much honor to let a woman play me like that again—especially after what Vicki’s done.”

Weary of the whole issue, Jace retreated to the living room, plucking up his girls. Unfortunately, like a snapping dog, Pam followed.

Girls in his arms, he backed onto the recliner.

“You can’t run away from this, Jace. Emma’s part of you. I’ve seen it in your eyes.”

“And? Does that fact change anything? She lied. My entire life is based upon honor and service. Yet, everything she’s said and done since we’ve been together has been a game to her. A means to an end. Her goal was to absolve herself of guilt. Her method was by using my children. My children. How low can a woman get? At least Amanda only hurt me.”

Shaking her head, Pam said, “You just don’t get it, do you? Yes, Emma came to you—us—needing emotional healing. She’d lost her son, Jace.” Cupping her still small belly, she softened her voice. “Can you even fathom what it would be like to lose one of the girls? I’m only newly pregnant, yet I already feel a bond with the child growing inside of me.”

“I get it, okay? But she lied. Over and over. What don’t you get about that?”

Gazing to the ceiling, Pam harrumphed before snatching her purse and heading for the front door. “I give up. Sit here alone forever. See if I care.”

“I’m not alone,” he fired back. “I’ve got my girls. They love me. Them, I can trust.”

Pam rolled her eyes, and then walked out the door.

JUST OVER a month.

Thirty-eight days.

Yet at nine-thirty on a Monday morning, Emma sat at the desk of her eighty-third-story office, feeling as if it’d been years since she’d last seen the girls. As for Jace, he’d hurt her to the point that she didn’t care if she never saw him again.

Early-September fog cloaked her Lake Michigan view. Whereas she usually drew comfort from staring out upon the world, today gray surrounded her. Inside and out.

Returning to the investment firm hadn’t been the balm she’d hoped for. Her days were generally hectic to the point that with her focus centered on fluctuating markets, she rarely had down time to dwell on her personal losses. Nights, however, were lonely. Long. The house she’d lived in with Rick had finally sold, so she’d rented an apartment on her office building’s forty-third floor.

The place was small and bare.

Not a problem, seeing how she was there as little as possible.

A knock sounded on her office door.

Hallie, her secretary, opened it, and then peeked through. “I’m making a coffee and muffin run. Want anything?”

“No, thank you. If you want, stay gone through lunch. I really appreciate you putting in so much extra time for me this weekend.”

“Not a problem,” the cute blonde said with her trademark wink. The twenty-four-year-old had been blessed with loopy curls, freckles and soulful brown eyes. Most of the guys at Wallace, Walker and Stromfeld were smitten. But Hallie was working her way through law school, and had much bigger things on her plate than dating. She slipped through the partially opened door, closing it behind her. “What is a problem is your mood. Sweetie, you need to get out of here. Party. And just between us,” she said in a stage whisper, “Peter in accounting has been asking about you. He likes your butt.”

“Stop,” Emma said, wadding a sheet of yellow legal paper and aiming for the woman’s grinning head. “The guy’s so uptight, he probably wears a tie in the shower. I doubt he’s eyeing anything but my personal portfolio.”

“You’re clueless—not to mention, hopeless.”

Grinning, Emma said, “Better than being deranged like you.”

“Seriously…” Hallie parked herself in one of Emma’s burgundy leather guest chairs. “Has he called?”

Coughing, Emma asked, “Has who called? Richard Grayson?”

With a sarcastic shake of her head, Hallie said, “The Grayson account has nothing to do with this, and you know it. We all feel for you about what happened with Rick and poor Henry, but ever since you’ve been back, you’ve seemed in a worse funk than when you left. We’re concerned, and wondered if you might’ve met someone while you were gone.”

“No, and I’m fine,” Emma assured. “Today, the weather has me down. It seems too early for summer to be over.”

Hallie sighed. “That accounts for today. What about the rest of the time you’ve been home?” Emma’s friend rounded the desk for a brief hug, and then left on her coffee run—leaving Emma gripping the edge of her desk and squeezing her eyes shut. Has he called?

On the surface, such an innocent question. But inside, it tore Emma apart. Jace felt he’d been lied to by the second woman he’d loved. Boo-hoo. Emma had not only been abandoned by the second man she’d loved, but she’d now lost three children instead of one.

If emotional pain were a quantifiable thing, Emma won.

“WANT ME to stay?” Mrs. Prioux, the girls’ sitter, cast a worried glance toward Bronwyn. The mother of six and grandmother of ten clucked. “Poor little thing hasn’t been herself all day. She didn’t eat a bite of breakfast, lunch or dinner.”

“Thanks,” Jace said, wanting nothing more than to kick back on his own and watch some mind-numbing TV, “but I’ve got it handled.” Bea sat in her walker, bouncing up and down. Mrs. Prioux handed him Bronwyn, whose cheeks looked flushed. “But I think I’ve got it handled. She probably needs burping.”

Though he couldn’t be sure, seeing how the white-haired grandmother wore bottle-bottom glasses, Jace swore the kindly old woman cast him a squinty-eyed glare. “Trust me, with no appetite, a cough and a low-grade fever, the child needs more than mere burping. A visit to her pediatrician is probably in order. If she doesn’t improve overnight, I’ll call in the morning. With infants, you can never be too careful. Their health can change on a dime.”

“Thanks,” he said, ushering her out the door. Good grief, he knew his own kids, and while Bronwyn didn’t look so hot, he didn’t think her life was in grave danger. “I’ll keep my eyes on her.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Cupping her wrinkled hand to Bronwyn’s flushed forehead, she frowned. “I’ll sleep better, knowing you’re being vigilant.”

Once the sitter had finally left, with Bronwyn still riding his right hip and Bea safely conking around in her walker, Jace dumped a can of Spaghetti-Os in a bowl, then nuked it.

“Looks good, huh?” he said to Bronwyn in an exaggerated, goofy tone. “I’ll bet one bite of these will perk you right up.”

Usually, when he joked with Bron, she grinned for him, a sight that never failed to raise his spirits. Tonight, she merely drooped her head to his shoulder, fisting his camo-green T-shirt.

After planting a sideways kiss to her head, he grabbed a spoon from a drawer, and then aimed for his DVD collection. “What do you feel like?” he asked the infant. “I’m thinking something with lots of action. Something exciting that helps me not think about your bad mommy.” Not Vicki, but the woman Jace had truly considered to be his girls’ mom. Vicki had been none too happy to hear Emma was out of the picture, but Jace assured the twins’ biological mother that their daughters still had excellent round-the-clock care.

“You remember her, don’t you?” Jace asked. “The one who made us love her, and then ripped out our hearts?” He glanced down at his daughter to find her eyes shut.

Bea, however, rammed her walker into the front door, with each bang, giggling and shrieking with glee.

It was mid-October and outside, though the skies were clear, a blustery wind blew in from the Gulf, shuddering the small home’s bones. The branches of the pecan tree in the side yard clattered against the roof and windows. The sound was unnerving, worsening his mood all the more.

Beep, beep, beep.

“Dinner’s done,” he called to Bea, “how about you help me put your sister to bed, and then you and I will watch a movie?”

Ignoring him, Bea went right on with her game.

Leaving her, Jace tucked Bronwyn into her crib, snagged his meal from the microwave, and then popped the original Rambo into the DVD player before settling into his recliner.

It’d been a bitch of a day. He’d bucked forty-mile-an-hour headwinds, combined with a tight navigation run with a target the size of a freakin’ can of soup.

Kicking up the footrest on his recliner, he downed his meal before Sylvester Stallone had wounded his first victim. “This here’s a classic,” he said to his little Devil Puppy—slang for the offspring of a Marine Devil Dog.

Bea had lost interest in the door and was now trekking across the living room, making a beeline for the entertainment center.

“Check out his masterful moves with that Bowie.”

She ignored his movie talk in favor of grabbing three DVDs off a low shelf, then trying to cram them into her gaping, slobbery mouth.

“Whoa…” he said, instantly up to snag her out of her walker and into his arms. He took her favorite pink fuzzy blanket and purple fish teething ring from the playpen, and then headed back to his recliner. “Okay, Little Miss Grabby, time for you to settle down and watch a good movie.”

Hours later, Jace woke to a numb right arm and a drool-covered chest. Bea was conked and the DVD was over, running its opening music loop.

“Crap,” he mumbled, struggling upright with the baby still in his arms. The pins and needles of his slowly waking limb made him wince on the way to the nursery. “So much for watching our movie, huh, sweetie?”

The sleeping angel just mewed as he slipped her into her crib.

Checking on Bronwyn, he placed his hand to her forehead and found her skin still warm, but no worse than it had earlier been. “I love you,” he whispered to the girl. “Hope you feel better in the morning.”

WHEN JACE’S bedside alarm pealed at 5:00 a.m., he felt like crying. How could it already be time to get up? He’d just gone to bed.

Wishing like hell he had a nice desk job that would allow him to call in sick, Jace stretched and growled before forcing himself up and into the shower.

Ten minutes later, he’d finished his morning routine, and sat at the kitchen table chowing down on a protein bar, banana and chocolate milk.

Finished eating, he grabbed his boots from where he’d kicked them off in the entry hall, then sat on the sofa to put them on and lace them up.

Crap on a pancake.

A glance at his watch told him Mrs. Prioux wouldn’t show for another fifteen minutes. Funny, how when he’d shared his mornings with Em, there had never seemed to be enough time. Now, he routinely had an overabundance. Meaning if he were smart, he’d set his alarm later and quit whining.

Em.

Pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes, for the thousandth time since she’d been gone, he wished he’d never met the woman. He wished he’d stop craving her big, country breakfasts. The sweet smile that’d come along with them. He missed seeing her with his girls, hearing all three of them laughing. It’d also been a treat sharing the infant’s firsts. Like the other night, he’d sworn Bea had said dada, but she never said the word again. Emma would know if it’d really been Bea’s first word, or just a fluke.

Pushing himself upright, in need of a distraction, he wandered to the nursery. Dwelling on Em so early was never a good sign. At least the wind seemed to have died down, as outside, all seemed still.

“How’re you feeling?” he whispered to Bronwyn, running his hand along her back. Even through the T-shirt and overalls she’d fallen asleep in, she felt unusually warm. Touching her head, his chest tightened.

Holy hell. The kid wasn’t just warm, but hot. Scooping her from bed, he played through baby-fever scenarios much the same way he did battle plans. Only with battle plans, emotion didn’t come into play. Well, of course, engaging in battle—even drills—heightened emotion. But not this debilitating kind. With his hands on his helicopter’s controls, he always knew where he stood. Now, he wasn’t sure whether fever meant sticking his poor baby girl in a cold tub of water or giving her acetaminophen or rubbing on some sort of cream.

Thankfully, the sound of Mrs. Prioux’s key turning in the front-door lock alerted him to the fact that the cavalry had arrived. Most times, he was the one coming to another’s aid. The role reversal felt equally as wrong as Bron’s temp.

Greeting the sitter at the door, he said, “Bronwyn’s hot. Really hot. What do I do?”

“Did you take her temperature?” she asked, setting down her canvas lunch tote and suitcase-sized purse to hold out her arms.

“No,” he said, loath to admit that he didn’t remember how. It was either an armpit or butt thing. Neither of which could be good.

“Poor baby,” she crooned. Bronwyn sleepily opened her eyes, only to cry fitfully. “I know, pumpkin, let’s take your temperature and see how miserable you truly are.”

“She going to be all right?” Jace trailed after the sitter. “Is there something I can do to help?”

“You were supposed to check on her during the night.” After switching on the lamp atop the dresser, she took the thermometer and a tiny tube of lubricant from the top drawer.

“I did,” he argued. “She seemed fine when I put Bea to bed around one.”

“You kept Bea up that late?” With Bronwyn already un-snapped on the changing table, Mrs. Prioux turned around to glare. “No wonder she’s been taking unusually long naps.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said, aiming to justify having fallen asleep on his recliner, but the woman had already moved on to inserting a rectal infant thermometer into its intended area. He winced. If only Emma had been here. Right off, she would’ve known what to do.

“Oh, dear…” Mrs. Prioux said a few minutes later, studying the thermometer.

“What?” Jace’s heart lurched. “How high is it?”

“One hundred and five. Considering how listless she was all day yesterday, I think we should bundle her up for a trip to the emergency room.”

Chapter Twenty

“Wow, ladies…” One week later, Jace stood in a blustery Chicago wind canyon formed by buildings so tall that even leaning his head back, he could hardly tell where the steel-gray buildings left off and the matching sky began.

So, this was Em’s world.

He’d had to rehire his PI to find her. Fortunately, she’d been a breeze to locate compared to Vicki. He’d then had to beg more leave time from his CO.

The girls were so bundled with their hats, coats and mittens that practically all he could see of them were their red noses. In light of Bronwyn’s ear infection, he hated having her out in this weather, but considering his rather urgent need to eat crow, the outing couldn’t have been helped. Not to mention the fact that he stood far better odds of convincing Em how sorry he was with the girls than without.

“Ready?” he asked, obviously more for the girls’ benefit than his. Sitting in a hospital emergency room with Bronwyn for six hours had given him plenty of time for reflection. Reflection that’d ultimately resulted in him recognizing that Pam was right. He was a fool. This moment was his one and only shot at rectifying the situation.

Forcing his lungs full of chilly morning air, he rolled the stroller into the formidable building. He worked his way through a security line while guards checked him, the babies and their ride.

“Sorry,” a kindly black female guard said in passing. “Some bozo who works for an import company on the thirtieth floor came in last week with a machine gun he’d bought his deskmate for a gag gift. Real funny, huh?” She half laughed while returning the girls’ winter gear. “Quite a few tenants complained, and now we’re on lockdown.”

“It’s all right,” Jace said, mouth dry and palms sweating with nerves. “Better too much protection than not enough.”

“I agree,” the woman said with a raspy full laugh. “Although as an ex-Marine, I take my security more seriously than others, my husband says.”

“Semper fi, ma’am,” Jace said to the guard, giving her a sharp salute. “With an attitude like yours, I’m sure you’re missed.”

“Get on out of here,” she said, waving him past.

While his banter with the guard had helped Jace relax somewhat, in other ways it’d steeled his will to urge Em home. He didn’t want the mother of his children working in such a formidable place. If security was this tight over a gun entering the building, what happened for the inevitable bomb threat? Moreover, what would happen should there be an actual explosion? Or a fire? When his PI had informed him that Em not only worked in the building, but lived in a residential section, Jace couldn’t get to Chicago fast enough to get her out of there.

On the long elevator ride, while fellow passengers cooed and made faces at the girls, he fought the need to puke. Would she even give him a chance? After the horrible things he’d said, he didn’t deserve it. But even Pam agreed, winning an amazing woman like Emma back was worth a try.

He stepped off the elevator, and into an intimidating, ornately paneled lobby filled with barely audible classical music, burgundy leather sofas and chairs and Oriental rugs that no doubt cost more than he made in a year. The place even smelled like money. Like the crisp hundreds he used to get from his grandparents for his birthday.

“May I help you?” A receptionist stood behind a museum-quality antique desk. She wore a navy wool skirt, a jacket and a white blouse that looked every bit as polished and starched as his dress blues. Which he’d briefly considered wearing on the mission, but in light of his ungentlemanly actions, he hadn’t felt worthy of the uniform’s glory.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m—we’re—here to see Emma Stewart.”

“Do you have an appointment?” The thirty-something brunette lifted an eyebrow.

“No, but—”

She consulted the contents of a black leather portfolio. “Ms. Stewart is in a meeting till eleven, and then has appointments all the way up until six.” Trailing her red-tipped index finger down a page, she said, “Ms. Stewart has an opening two weeks from Thursday. If you’d like, I’ll be happy to pencil you in.”

“Um, this is kind of important,” he said. “Personal—not business.”

“I’m sorry,” she snapped, not looking the least bit apologetic. “But I’m under strict orders not to let anyone disturb a senior VP without an appointment.”

Okay…

He’d tried playing by the rules, but it looked like this mission had just turned dicey. “Doesn’t she have a bathroom break? Or lunch ‘penciled in’?”

Bronwyn started to whimper and fuss.

“Sir, I’ve already told you,” the receptionist said, casting his noisy daughter a put-out glare. “You’ll have to come back at a later date. Now, if you persist in harassing me, I’ll be forced to phone security.”

At the mention of his new Marine friend downstairs, Jace wished the woman were with him now. He could use back-up.

To his left, two snooty suits exited the door to what Jace assumed was the inner sanctum. Security badges were required to enter, but if he hustled…

Making a run for it, he pushed the double stroller fast enough to pop a wheelie.

“Sir!” the receptionist shouted. “Stop! You can’t go in there!”

Jace needed a tactical advantage and a surprise attack was always a good thing.

When the white-faced suits threw themselves against the nearest wall, Jace reached the door just in time.

“Sir!” the receptionist snapped at his heels.

Oh, hell—now that Jace was through, he was faced with an endless wide hall adorned with pricey artwork and antique side tables and chairs. Throw in more fancy carpet, somber, blue walls and the place looked more like a hotel than a place of business.

Glimpsing daylight at the end of the hall to his left, he dodged in that direction, Bronwyn wailing, Bea shrieking with glee.

Thirty seconds of running later, and the daylight turned out to be a conference room’s interior glass wall. The exterior wall was also glass, but this looked out on the world. Holy crap, even with the gray sky, what a view.

Seated in the conference room around an enormous oval table were more suits in all shapes, colors and sizes.

The shock and awe of it prompted him to freeze.

What was he doing? This was no Marine mission. He’d crashed a seriously moneyed party and as such, stood to be in some serious trouble if Emma chose not to back him up.

“Sir!” The out-of-breath receptionist had finally caught up with him. “Is it your goal to get me fired?”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve just got to find Em. Tell her I’m sorry.”

A blonde seated along the conference room’s rear wall rose, then walked directly to a version of Emma Jace had never seen before. Her usual messy ponytail had been replaced by a fancy up-do. Her free-flowing sundresses exchanged for a black number with pearls that would’ve been suitable for a military ball. Holy crap, he was in trouble. What had he barged in on?

Complexion draining of color, she sharply glanced up to meet his gaze. She murmured something to the speaker, and then heightened Jace’s squirm factor, taking her sweet time strolling around the table.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, eyeing the girls rather than him.

“What do you think? I’m here to take you home.”

“This is my home,” she said, her tone as cold and unyielding as the wind outside.

“Come on, Em, give me five minutes. I just want to talk. Is there somewhere we can go without her honing in?” He nodded toward the still-fuming receptionist.

After another longing glance at the girls, Em begrudgingly said, “Follow me.”

EMMA GESTURED for Jace to push the stroller into her office. Behind him, she closed the door while struggling to breathe. What was he doing here? She’d never wanted to see his miserable face again. But the girls…

They were beautiful. They’d grown so much.

Throat tight with unspoken words, eyes watering, she ignored Jace to focus on the babies. “Look at you,” she managed. The moment had a reverent, almost surreal feel. This melding of lives. This corporate glass tower was her world. A million miles from the sweet home she’d shared with Jace and his girls. They didn’t belong here, and as she knelt before them, she wished her form-fitting skirt allowed for better range of motion, so that she could plop cross-legged on the floor alongside them. “You’re practically all grown-up.”

She lifted Bea from the front seat, and then made an awkward, but ultimately successful grab for Bronwyn. “She’s warm,” she noted on her way to her office sofa. “And you should’ve had both girls’ safety belts fastened.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jace said, “and for the record, Bron’s recovering from a pretty rough ear infection. Her fever comes and goes.”

“Oh, no,” Emma said, worry creasing her forehead. “Is she on an antibiotic?”

“Yeah. It’s handled, but look, what I came here to—”

“She shouldn’t have been out in the cold. It probably hurt. You did have a hat on her, didn’t you?”

“For God’s sake, woman, would you stop scolding me long enough to let me get out what I came here to say?”

It took every ounce of professional restraint not to scream at him to leave. “After the wretched things you said to me, security shouldn’t have even allowed you in this office. In fact if it weren’t for the girls, I—”

“Stop.” From the stroller’s roomy back pocket, he took a small quilt that Mrs. Prioux had made, and spread it in front of an ornate wooden coffee table. He took Bea from Em, and put her on the makeshift play area, then did the same with Bronwyn.

Emma said, “You shouldn’t have flown with Bron’s ear hurting.”

“For the record, I drove for that exact reason. Traded in my Mustang for a nice, sturdy SUV. Which is why it took me so damned long to get here.”

“Pushing two months?” she snapped. “I’m all for safe driving, but that’s ridiculous.”

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, inching closer to her on the sofa. Needing space, she inched further away. “You never used to be so bitchy. I think it’s this place.” He gestured to her upscale office. “It’s getting to you. Making you forget your roots.”

“My roots?” Emma had to laugh. “Jace, we were together a couple of months. For the record, my true roots are far closer to this world than yours. Which is obviously why we never would’ve worked.”

“But we did—will—work,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I came here, Em, to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Snatching her hands free she stood, only to sidestep the girls to pace in front of the windows. More than anything she’d ever wanted in the world, she wanted to pack the babies back into their stroller and spirit them away. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do that any more than she could find common ground with their dad. “I think it’s a little late for that. Let’s see, not only did you accuse me of killing my own child, but then of using your girls for nefarious purposes, and alluding to—”

“Okay, whoa.” He held up his hands. “For the record, I don’t even know what nefarious means. And another thing, since we’re hauling out the big words, the other morning, when Bronwyn had a hundred-and-five fever and I didn’t have a clue what was wrong, I had an epiphany.”

“Don’t even go there,” Emma snapped. “Don’t for one second presume to—”

“I get it, okay?” Up from the sofa, he charged to her, clamping his hands around her shoulders. “Honey, not knowing whether Bronwyn was going to live or die did something to me. I see what an ass I was for saying the things I did. What you went through in losing your baby was unimaginable. I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on my worst enemy. I’m ashamed. Sitting there, waiting for the doctor, all these things kept running through my mind. If I’d done something different, would Bronwyn be all right? If I’d been a better dad? I know words can’t begin to make up for—”

Slipping her arms around him, she broke down.

To hear that someone—most especially, Jace—understood even a fraction of her pain was freeing. It meant she was no longer alone. It meant maybe, just maybe, happiness could one day be hers.

“I—I’m sorry, too,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck when he lifted her. “I should’ve been straight up with you from the start, but it hurt to talk about Henry. Sharing my grief felt wrong somehow.”

Kissing her nose, cheeks and chin, he said, “I don’t ever want you afraid of talking to me, Em.” Kissing her closed eyelids he said, “I’m sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have been so hotheaded. I should’ve swallowed my pride long enough to realize you and Amanda are nothing alike. I should’ve—”

“Shut up and kiss me. That’s what you should’ve done.” When his lips finally touched hers, Emma once again became whole. Jace cinched her higher, backing her against her desk, nearly tripping over Bea in the process. “Careful,” Emma teased.

“Are we ever going to have some privacy?” Not waiting for an answer, he kissed her long and leisurely until her limbs leadened with a happy tingle.

Bronwyn whimpered and whined before letting loose with a full-blown wail.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jace said with a groan.

Laughing, Emma said, “I’ll take care of Bronwyn if you’ll catch up with Bea before she topples my fern on her head.”

“Deal.” He set Emma to her feet.

Once Emma sat on the sofa with Bronwyn falling asleep in her arms, Jace sat beside her, jiggling Bea on his knee. Suddenly exhausted, Emma rested her head on his shoulder.

Jace asked, “Got a quick question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“You know the ring I gave you?”

“Uh-huh?” she teased, toying with one of Bron’s curls. “What about it?”

“I don’t suppose you still have it? Because if so, I’d really like to close the deal, and make you my wife.”

“You’re such a romantic, Mr. Monroe.” Kissing his stubbled cheek, she asked, “What happens if it’s lost? Do we just live in sin?”

With a playful growl he asked, “Where is it?”

“Right here.” Reaching beneath her blouse’s neckline, she withdrew a slim, gold chain. On it, close to her heart, she wore the ring he’d given her. She might’ve hated him, but she’d also never stopped loving him. “Convenient enough for you?”

“That’ll do.” Laughing while he tried maneuvering the necklace off her neck with Bea bucking his every move, he finally succeeded. “All right. Now, let’s try this again. Marry me?” he asked, slipping the ring onto her left hand.

“Yes.” Tears stung her eyes.

A knock sounded on Emma’s office door. “Ms. Stewart?” Hallie called, her voice muffled, since Emma had had the foresight to turn her lock. “Everything all right?”

“Perfect,” Emma shouted.

“Need anything?” Hallie sounded curious. For that matter, everyone probably was. After all, it wasn’t every day the staid firm was invaded by a baby-stroller-wielding Marine.

“I don’t need a thing,” Emma called back.

“Nothing?” Jace teased in a bawdy tone.

“Sir,” Emma teased right back, “might I remind you there are children present?”

The flirtatious banter went on for a good twenty minutes before Jace said, pointing at the wall of windows. “Hey, look.”

The sun had come out, and Lake Michigan shimmered velvety blue. “It’s beautiful.”

Nodding to their rich surroundings, he asked, “You going to miss all of this?”

“Nah.” With a happy sigh, Emma said, “Blue is nice, but I much prefer the green in Bronwyn, Bea’s, and most especially, your eyes.”

ISBN: 978-1-4268-3292-5

THE MARINE’S BABIES

Copyright © 2009 by Laura Marie Altom.

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