Colonel Daddy

Tom closed his eyes and held her more tightly.

A pounding headache throbbing behind her eyes, Kate sat at her desk, taking deep breaths and telling herself the worst was over. She’d told him about the baby. Nobody had fainted. He hadn’t held up a rope of garlic to keep her at bay. And most important, she’d managed to keep her stomach from rebelling in the disgusting manner that was becoming all too familiar these days.

So why didn’t she feel better?

Because it wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

She was going to be a mother, God help the poor little thing nestled unknowingly inside her. And a wife. To a man who didn’t want a wife.

Kate groaned out loud, pushed both hands through her short hair and held on to her skull to keep it from exploding. Trying to distract herself, she glared at the mountain of paperwork awaiting her attention. Files and folders and stapled sheafs of papers lay across her desk in what to anyone else’s eye would look like a disorganized jumble. To Kate’s credit, she knew what every single piece of paper was, where it belonged and how to put her finger on whatever was needed at a moment’s notice.

That didn’t mean she liked it.

Thomas was wrong, she thought, stealing a quick glance at the In pile that had grown substantially in the fifteen minutes she’d been gone. The military didn’t run on gossip. It ran on paper. Piles and piles of paper.

A knock at the door delivered her and she looked up. “Yes?”

The door opened and her assistant, Staff Sergeant Eileen Dennis, poked her head in. “Excuse me, ma’am, but the other files have arrived.”

“Perfect,” Kate groaned and leaned back in her chair.

“Can I help, ma’am?” Eileen offered, stepping farther into the room and dropping at least ten more manilla folders onto an already precariously tilted stack.

Kate sighed. Tempting, but no. She might be pregnant and about to marry a reluctant groom, but she was still a Marine. And she could do her job—at least until her belly was so swollen she couldn’t pull her chair in close enough to reach the desk.

She managed to stifle the groan building inside her as she scooted her chair in extra tight, just because she could.

Looking up at the younger woman standing opposite her, Kate figured Eileen Dennis to be about twenty-eight Her bright blue eyes were sharp. Her smart cap of night black hair was regulation, yet somehow managed to look feminine. Spit and polish, the creases on the woman’s uniform had creases. The staff sergeant was young, eager, dedicated and ambitious.

Everything Kate had always been herself. So why then did she suddenly feel like Grandma Moses in comparison?

“Thanks, Eileen,” she said with a shake of her head. “I can manage.”

She actually looked disappointed. “If you’re sure...”

“I am,” Kate said. “But if you can find me a cup of coffee, I’ll put you up for promotion.”

Eileen grinned at the joke. “Black, one sugar?”

“Yeah.” Just as the door started to close, though, Kate said, “No. Wait.” Caffeine. Not a good thing for growing babies. She caught Eileen’s eye. “Make that tea.”

“Tea, ma’am?” Surprise etched itself onto her features.

“Herbal.” Lord, just saying it made her want to retch. How would she ever get through the next six months without a jolt of caffeine every day?

“Yes ma’am,” Eileen said, and slowly closed the door again.

When she was alone, Kate pushed away from the desk and crossed the room to the one tiny window her office provided. Staring out at the busy base, she absently watched her fellow Marines carrying out their everyday tasks. The world was rolling right along, she thought. It didn’t seem to matter that her own personal world lay in shambles at her feet.

Her phone rang and grudgingly Kate turned toward the desk again. She snatched it up on the third ring. “Yes?”

“Colonel Candello on line one, ma’am.”

Her stomach twisted. Had he changed his mind already? Had the idea of a baby and marriage made him want to resign and catch the first sailboat to Tahiti?

A click, a hum, then Thomas’s voice. “Kate?”

“I’m here.”

A long pause. “You never agreed to dinner tonight. Let’s get this courtship started.”

So much for Tahiti.

“Tonight?” Her fingers tightened around the receiver.

“Any reason not to?”

She stared down at her desk, told herself she should work late and clear up all the files. But they’d be right there in the morning, waiting for her. “No,” she said. “I guess not.”

“Good. Seven?” he asked, and even over the phone his voice raised goosebumps on her skin. “I’ll pick you up at your place?”

She rubbed one hand over her forearm, as if she could wipe away the effect he had on her.

“You don’t know where I live,” she said. Good heavens, she was marrying a man who didn’t even know where her apartment was. This couldn’t be right, could it? Right for any of them?

“I was hoping you’d tell me.”

Kate sat down in her chair, propped her elbows on her desk and didn’t even glance at the two manilla folders that slid off, spilling papers across her floor. “Thomas—” She rested her forehead in one palm. “This is all so weird. It feels... awkward.”

“I know, honey,” he said, his voice deepening into a low rumble of sound. “But we’ll figure it all out.”

She hoped so, because at the moment, her world felt about as steady as a ball twirling on the tip of a trained seal’s snout.

“You still like Italian?” he asked.

Kate smiled, ridiculously pleased that he’d repeated the stupid little joke they traditionally used to start off their yearly week together. Even more ridiculous, his saying it now actually made her feel better. So she gave him the answer he was waiting for.

“I still like one Italian.”

“That’s a relief. You had me worried there for a minute, Kate.” His chuckle carried across the line before he said, “So, Major. Give me your address so I can start sweeping you off your feet.”

A moment later, Tom hung up. His hand still lying atop the cradled receiver, he stared blankly at the window opposite his desk. Weak winter sunshine fell through the spotty glass pane, painting a polka-dotted slash of gold across the linoleum.

All things considered, he told himself, that had gone pretty well. He flashed a look at the phone and frowned to himself. He’d managed to sound encouraging, uplifting and supportive without once letting his voice betray the sliver of panic that had torn his guts open at her news.

While he was on a roll, he snatched up the phone again and dialed his daughter’s number. After two rings, she answered.

“Hi, kiddo,” he said quickly.