A Navy SEAL's Surprise Baby by Laura Marie Altom Page A

her in an innocent yet perilous way. The easy up-and-down motion of the roller called to mind other activities men and women do to a similar rhythm and suddenly the heat, the longing was more than she could bear.
    She tried turning away, but only made a bigger mess of things by facing him, gazing up at lips she wasn’t allowed to wonder about kissing.
    “Am I doing it right?”
    “Uh-huh....” How was she supposed to answer when he wasn’t doing anything at all other than standing there, radiating heat and a foreign erotic hum that rendered her dizzy-drunk as she stared into his blue eyes?
    From over the baby monitor, Quinn cried.
    “I—I should check on him.” Relief wobbled her legs. She had never been happier for Quinn to need her.
    “Yeah.” Calder stood close enough that his warm exhales landed near her nose. He smelled so good.
    For a split second, she closed her eyes, imagining his sweet taste. And then she dragged herself back to reality.
    The old Pandora would’ve ignored Quinn in favor of a frenzied roll in the hay. New-and-improved Pandora forced a deep breath, then, as gracefully as possible when her limbs were oh-so-pleasantly entangled with a hulking navy SEAL and a paintbrush and roller, extricated herself from the situation.
    “Duty calls.” She ducked under Calder’s arm to escape to the hall bathroom where she washed paint from her hands. A glance in the mirror showed dilated pupils and flushed skin. The lovely shade of lemon sorbet marked her breasts where they’d brushed against Calder’s chest.
    Cheeks superheated, nipples mortifyingly hard, she craved a drink almost as badly as Calder’s touch.
    The thought scared her.
    Brought her down from the clouds to scurry into Quinn’s room where she addressed the infant’s needs instead of her own.
     

Chapter Eight
    Pushing midnight, with Quinn long asleep, bone-deep exhaustion settled over Calder—only not from the physical exertion of painting, but from keeping his hands off his son’s nanny.
    Calder sat on one side of the kitchen floor, leaning against the cabinets. He sat on the floor because Pandora said he was too dirty to sit on the furniture and she was right.
    She sat opposite him, daintily plucking green peppers from her pizza and setting them in a soggy pile on the edge of her plate.
    “When I ordered,” he asked, “why didn’t you tell me of your apparent green-pepper aversion?”
    “If you like them, it’s not a big deal for me to take them off.” Having finally completed her task, she took her first bite and smiled. “Mmm. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
    She smiled again as she chewed. A good three hours earlier, her ponytail had gone crooked, and yellow now streaked her cheeks and hair. Yellow overspray from the roller speckled the lenses of her glasses. He had never seen her looking more lovely. And he had never wanted a woman more, yet been so keenly aware he couldn’t have her. Was that the force driving his attraction? The fact that she was off-limits?
    “Green peppers aside,” Calder asked after his second slice, “when’s the last time you did something nice for yourself?”
    “All the time.” She sipped her cola. He’d offered her a beer, but she’d declined.
    “Like what?”
    “Last Friday, Quinn and I went to some yard sales again. We had a great time.”
    “Yeah, but all you bought were things for my house or Quinn.”
    “I grabbed a few books for myself. And those two throw pillows. And I forgot to mention it, but I met one of the neighbors and even joined her club. Quinn and I are now official members of the Neighborhood Beautification Committee.”
    “That sounds indulgent,” he teased after finishing his brew.
    She rolled her eyes. “You sound like one of those morning talk shows where they have some expert talk about how stressed we all are, and how women should indulge themselves by soaking in bubble baths or frolicking in potpourri.”
    I’d like to see you