Prince Charming in Dress Blues by Maureen Child Page B

nothing John wanted more than to lie down on the bed with her, but right now his protective instinct was even stronger than the urge to touch her, hold her, kiss her…okay, better derail that particular train of thought.
    Leading her across the hardwood floor, he sat her down on the edge of the bed, then bent down to untie her sneakers and slip them off.
    “John,” she said, her voice already clouded with the promise of sleep, “you don’t have to do this. “I’m not helpless.”
    “I know that,” he said, standing up and easing her down onto the mattress. “But it makes me feel good, taking care of you. So don’t bruise my fragile ego by refusing, okay?”
    A quick half smile dusted across her face as she snuggled down into the nest of pillows. She sighed, stretched and closed her eyes. “Well, since you put it that way…”
    He grinned at her and reached for the crocheted afghan folded neatly at the foot of her bed. Opening it up, he flicked it into the air and let it fall gently down on top of her. Then he tugged the edge of the blanket up to her chin. For himself he paused long enough to smooth her hair back from her forehead, then bent low to drop a kiss at her hairline.
    “God, I missed you,” he whispered, wanting her to know that she hadn’t been far from his thoughts. He straightened up, looked down at her and opened his mouth to tell her more, then caught himself and snapped his mouth shut again.
    She was asleep.
    The steady rise and fall of her chest, the deep rhythm of her breathing in the quiet room told him she’d been more tired than either of them had thought. As he watched her, she rolled onto her side and curled up, one hand reaching across the pillows to the emptiness beside her.
    Alone, he thought. She’d been alone too long, and whether she knew it yet or not, she’d already taken the first step toward him. She was trusting him with Jordan. The most important person in the world to her.
    Now all he had to do was get her to trust him with her heart.
     
    Annie awoke to complete darkness.
    And she didn’t even remember going to bed.
    A split second later memory kicked in.
    “Jordan!” She threw the afghan to one side, leaped out of bed and raced for the door. Her baby. How could she have slept so long? What if Jordan needed her? Whatif John hadn’t been as capable as he’d thought? What if…?
    She flung open the door, charged down the short hall, burst into the living room and skidded to a stop. The room was clean. Toys, clothes, baby paraphernalia all stashed away, the room looked the way it used to, back when Annie still had time to care about such things. And unbelievably enough, there was the scent of spaghetti sauce drifting in the air.
    But she really wasn’t paying much attention to those things. Instead, she focused on John Paretti—professional soldier—sitting on the couch, in her now-tidy living room, Jordan lying peacefully in the crook of his arm. He held a baby bottle, and while Jordan slurped happily at her meal, he talked to her. Smiled at her.
    And Annie felt her heart melt.

Nine
    “I found formula in the fridge, so when she started fussing, I just fed her,” John said as he looked up and met her gaze. “Hope that’s all right.”
    “Sure,” she said, not bothering to explain that she’d stopped nursing because her doctor had told her she wasn’t producing enough milk for the baby. Another small failure, she thought wryly. But at least Jordan was thriving, and the upside was, when help was available she could take advantage of it. If she was still nursing, John wouldn’t have been able to feed the baby. “But you shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”
    He shrugged. “You needed it.”
    Had she ever. She felt better than she had in days. Rested, alert and, now that she was completely conscious, aware of a certain look in Gunnery Sergeant Paretti’s pale-blue eyes.
    Annie’s stomach pitched, and a slow, deep throbbing pulsed to life inside her. She