The Seal's Surprise Baby
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Amy J. Fetzer
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11
One
Congratulations! It’s a girl!
Still in his field uniform, Lt. Jack Singer blinked and read the postcard again. The card was a picture of an old plantation and he recognized his sister’s handwriting.
“Hey, I’m an uncle. I have a niece!”
Jack’s SEAL teammate, Reese Logan, smiled. “Great! Tell Lisa and Brian I said congrats.”
A girl. Jack frowned. That was all she’d written. Odd for shutterbug Lisa not to send pictures. Odder still that his sister hadn’t even told him she was pregnant. Not that she could have reached him by any other means than this post-office box. He’d been gone fifteen months on special operations, and no contact with the world beyond his commander and his team had been allowed. It was the toughest part of being a SEAL. Cutting ties, or letting them blur badly enough that people often forgot about you.
Melanie Patterson obviously had.
He flipped through the mail, not finding what he’d hoped. A letter. A message that the woman he’d spent a mind-blowing night with after his sister’s wedding hadn’t really dismissed him from her life. Closing his mailbox and pocketing the key, Jack strode to the command center, tapping the postcard against his thigh. He had thirty days’ R and R coming and knew exactly where he’d spend it. He’d take the time to see his sister, his new niece—and maybe find Melanie and ask why the hell she’d cut him out of her life with the precision of a surgeon.
The reality hit him that maybe she’d forgotten about him.
Bad news, when all he could remember about his sister’s wedding was Melanie. She’d been the maid of honor, Lisa’s best friend and three years older. And the kind of woman who made men damned glad they were men.
Jack headed for the phones and dialed Lisa’s number, realizing he should be more excited about his new niece than getting the chance to grill his sister about Melanie Patterson. That was a signal, Jack thought, he should be glad the woman didn’t expect anything from him. But he wasn’t.
When he’d managed to get near a ship-to-shore phone months ago and had clearance to call, he’d discovered Melanie’s phone was disconnected. It was as if she didn’t exist anymore. He’d phoned his sister and asked, but Lisa’d said she hadn’t seen or heard from Melanie in months. He was worried and irritated at the same time.
Why wouldn’t she speak to him? They were good together, in and out of bed, and Jack, sifting through junk mail, replayed that night in his mind for the millionth time. The memory of making love with Melanie was enough to drive him crazy, just as she had that night.
“No mail from her?”
Jack shook his head, listening to the ringing on the other end of the line as the SEAL team members stripped off their gear and turned the most expensive components into the requisition officer.
“Give up, pal. I got the message, even if you didn’t.”
Jack’s gaze shifted to Reese. “SEALs don’t give up.”
“They fight the battles they can win, and the woman has made her feelings damn clear.”
Jack shook his head, wondering why his sister’s answering machine wasn’t turned on. “Melanie Patterson is worth going after for a straight answer.”
Reese smirked. “Grab a life vest, Lieutenant, because your ship’s already sinking.”
Jack scowled, more at himself than at his friend’s words. He’d never really thought of himself as that far gone. Sure, he’d thought about Melanie a lot and wanted to hook up with her now that he was stateside again. Yet there was more to it. They’d connected in more ways than in bed, and he wanted to see her again to find out if that connection was reality or just the memory laced in fantasy.
Fifteen months earlier
The wedding was over.
In his late father’s place, Jack had walked his little sister down the aisle, given her to the man she loved and, as of a few minutes ago, put them both into a limo and sent them off to start their life together. His mom was off with her friends. Now he could focus on the object of his torment for the past two weeks.
The maid of honor, Melanie Patterson. Just being near her was enough to make his mind fog. He didn’t want to think about what she did to the rest of him. He’d been fighting it for more than 336 hours. Since he’d first laid eyes on his sister’s best friend.
He’d suffered through about forty snags in what he considered a well-thought-out plan for his sister’s wedding, yet through it all there was Melanie. Calming Lisa, running errands and running Jack ragged.
Leggy, opinionated and so damn sexy he thought he’d burn up with his need to touch her.
When he wasn’t fixing a problem that threatened to ruin his little sister’s big day, he was with Melanie, talking to her long into the night, sailing on the river with her when they could grab a moment from the chaos of the wedding. When she wasn’t near, he was thinking about her, waiting till he could get the sassy redhead someplace private and dark. And find out if she tasted as good as she looked. He’d bet a month’s pay she did.
He wasn’t alone in this. He knew that for certain, or he’d have mentally shut down his libido and kept far away from her. They were subtle, the hints coming from her, and caught him dead in the chest. They made him want her even more.
As the limo rolled away from the officers’ club, he waved to his sister and looked at Melanie. She was holding the hem of her gown, bending down to pick up a ribbon-tied pouch of birdseed. The officers’ club wouldn’t let them throw rice, and Melanie had convinced them that birdseed was environmentally safe. She only wanted the tradition for Lisa, she’d said. No bride should leave without the wish of prosperity from those who loved her.
And no man should have to stand here, look at a woman like that—and behave. “Melanie?”
She looked up, smiled, then straightened. “Hey, Lieutenant. Did I tell you how very dashing you look in that white uniform?”
“You can start now.”
“A Navy SEAL with an ego,” she teased. “How rare.”
He held out his hand for hers. She dropped the pouch of birdseed into it. He glanced down, then stuffed it into his pocket.
“Sentimental?”
“No, I’ll have the bills to remind me of this.”
She laughed and said, “So, the cynic emerges. I knew you weren’t all patience and knightly duty.”
Around them, the caterers began cleaning up. The band still played one last song, and while the guests departed, Jack pulled Melanie into his arms and onto the dance floor.
“You looked great this morning.”
“As opposed to right now?”
He smiled. She kept him on his toes, he’d give her that, and found himself wanting to give her a hell of a lot more. “The belle of the ball.”
“Thank you, and I won’t tell your sister you said that.”
He pulled her more firmly against him, and the single touch of her hand in his, her body to his, set off fireworks under his skin.
She inhaled a soft breath. “Jack.” She tried to ease back.
“Shh,” he murmured, sweeping her across the dance floor like a duke at a summer ball. “You feel it, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah,” she breathed, and held on to him, laying her head on his broad shoulder.
He loved it, the feel of her; she fit perfectly in his arms. And he knew they’d be a perfect fit elsewhere. “Good. I was hoping I wasn’t in this torment alone.”
“Not a chance, sailor.” Her arms tightened around him, her hands moving up his back in a heavy caress.
He wished they were on his skin. Wished the two of them were naked and rolling across his bed. “You’ve been driving me crazy, you know,” he whispered close to her ear, and sent gooseflesh cascading over her skin.
“You’d never know it.”
“It wouldn’t be nice to go after the maid of honor while Lisa was falling apart over those flowers, would it?”
“You’re to be commended for your restraint, then, Lieutenant.”
“With what I’ve been thinking about, I should be court-martialed.”
Melanie lifted her head from his shoulder. Her gaze moved over his handsome features and understood the message she saw there. Heat, hunger. Need. She’d been receiving it for more than fourteen days.
Jack Singer had walked into Lisa’s living room amidst yards of tulle and satin, and one look had struck Melanie with the force of charged lightning. It wasn’t so much that he was good-looking, which he was, or that his naval uniform fit like a glove and the sight of him in it would make any woman weak-kneed. It was his eyes, eyes that shouted his emotions, as well as hid them from the world.
She remembered the way he’d looked at Lisa this morning, in her gown, the picture of a fairy princess, and she’d seen those deep-blue eyes gloss with tears. Of love and pride. Who’d have thought such a strong man with a dangerous job could melt at the sight of a bride? But just as easily, she recalled the stare he’d delivered to the florist who was going to ruin his sister’s big day, and the words “If looks could kill” came to mind in an instant.
“What have you been thinking?” she asked suddenly.
“Dangerous territory,” he warned, his blue eyes smoldering as they raked over her.
“I’m up for the adventure.”
“With me, right now?”
She slid her arms to his shoulders, the fingers of one hand sliding up the back of his neck and tipping his head down. It was as if she’d done it a hundred times before, as if she’d known him for a thousand years.
“I was wondering when you’d get busy,” she whispered, and pulled him closer. His mouth covered hers, devoured with savage need as his hands climbed up her satin-covered spine and crushed her to him.
It was all-consuming, as he’d known it would be. Hot and fast and too private to be seen in public. His body was hard, hers firm and yielding against his.
“Whoa, Singer!” he heard from somewhere in the distance, and he pulled back. His breathing was hard.
“Can it, Reese,” he said to his buddy without taking his gaze from Melanie’s.
“Sir, yes sir,” came the response.
“Let’s get out of here?” The words came like a question.
She blinked and licked her lips. “We aren’t gone yet?”
He smiled and let her go grab her purse. Then they rushed from the club. During the cab ride to the hotel, he didn’t touch her, didn’t kiss her, not trusting himself if he did. He only held her hand. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever done. Fingers laced, palms tight. Intimate.
More than he’d been with any woman in a very long time.
At the hotel he climbed out of the cab, paid the driver and took Melanie’s hand again as they entered the building and stepped into the elevator. He couldn’t look at her. Her body was still imprinted on him from the dance.
He still felt her warmth. Smelled her scent. It was eating him up inside.
People smiled and nodded. A man mentioned being in the Navy during the Gulf War, and Jack hoped he made the proper respectful response. People got on and off and the elevator kept moving. Slowly, slowly. Then, finally, they were alone, the only ones in the elevator shooting to the top floors. He couldn’t stand it and turned toward her.
She smiled, reaching for him at the same time, and when he backed her up against the wall, he kissed her like a madman.
And she answered him, clinging, her mouth hot and wild beneath his.
Jack felt himself fracturing inside. She grasped his hand and put it on her thigh, under the slit in her gown, and Jack groaned, driving it higher, feeling the stockings, then skin. He cupped her buttocks and wedged her closer. Little soft sounds came from her, and he wanted to hear more, hear her cry out with pleasure.
Then he dipped his hand between her thighs, rubbing.
She gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he stroked her. She broke their kiss, whispered, “This is so naughty.”
And he said, “Yeah, I know. I’ll never forget it,” then hooked the edge of her panties and pushed a finger deep inside her.
“Oh, Jack,” she said, bowing away from the wall, gasping for air.
Jack toyed with her, a single fingertip sliding over slick, soft flesh. Her panting breath tumbled from her lips and filled the elevator. He introduced another finger.
“Oh, my!”
“Oh, yes,” he growled, kissing her throat. She was wet and slick and tense against him, tuned for the explosion. Then the ping of the elevator made them draw apart, both moaning in disappointment. He muttered a curse and when the doors opened, grabbed her hand and damn near ran to his room. The hall was empty and he fumbled with the key card.
She took it, met his gaze, then inserted it in the slot. The door sprang open and he dragged her inside, kicked it closed and pushed her against the door.
She laughed at his impatience and he kissed her. Deep and heavy and thick. She popped the buttons of his dress white jacket and kicked off her shoes. He toed off his own and shrugged out of the stiff coat. Then she turned around, her hands braced on the door. Jack pulled the zipper of her satin dress down. His eyes flared and his body tightened when he saw the matching lavender bra and panties. He laid kisses down her spine, taking the dress with him as he did, and when it was a pile on the floor, he turned her around and looked his fill.
“Man, oh man,” was all he could say.
She arched a brow and unhooked her bra. His gaze raked her, his breathing quickened, and he stripped off his T-shirt.
She grasped his wrists and placed his hands over her breasts. Jack didn’t need encouragement. He was ready for her now. Had been ready for this for two long weeks.
Each time he’d brushed against her, electricity shot through him.
Each time she’d smiled or laughed, he felt alive and rewarded.
He rubbed her breasts, his palms brushing over her nipples. They hardened and he couldn’t wait to taste them. Then he did, taking one nipple into the heat of his mouth and sucking deeply.
Her leg lifted, her foot sliding up his calf.
Melanie felt her world tilt and shift. Pleasure radiated outward from her breasts, singing through her like music, making her blood run fast and hot and to the rhythm of Jack’s touch. He nibbled and licked and her nerve endings grew taut. His teeth scored, his tongue soothed, over her breasts, her ribs and lower.
Deliciously lower.
He caught his thumbs in the sides of her panties and drew them down as he sank to his knees. He touched and kissed her legs, hands smoothing down to her toes, then back up. Then he hooked her knee and drew it over his shoulder.
He met her gaze. She smiled, running her finger over his lips.
Then he tasted her. And everything she knew shattered.
“Jack,” she groaned softly.
His tongue plunged and laved and flicked, and she cried out, wanting more. She was greedy for this man. Greedy for everything she could get because she more than liked him, much more, and she knew he would leave, knew he’d disappear into the mist. A quiet warrior. It was his job, his life. There was only right now. And she wanted all he had.
And he gave it, finding and teasing every sensitive pulse point, every bit of flesh that was charged and waiting for ignition. He lit the fuse and she burned. Oh, how she burned!
Jack felt it, the spiral of heat racing through her, the tightening of her muscles, the liquid softness of her desire. He spread her wider and thrust two fingers inside her.
Desire exploded, shuddering through her, clutching at him.
“Jack!” she moaned. And he wanted to hear more, wanted to be the only man she did this with, wanted to be the one she shared herself with. A possessiveness he’d never known rose in him.
He didn’t ignore it. But he didn’t need it. Couldn’t encourage it. Not when he might be a thousand miles away from her in a few hours. So he savored the moments, the small and big ones, as he had for years, as he would for the next decade.
He took her past her climax, beyond madness and satisfaction, and back into his world, his arms.
He stood and she fell against him, limp for a moment, only a moment. Then she kissed him and fire kindled as she reached between them to unfasten his belt. She shaped him, the bulge in his trousers, then pulled the zipper down. His hands braced on the door beside her head, he smothered a groan as her fingers dipped inside his trousers and freed him.
“My turn.”
“Nah-ah.”
“What’s the matter, Lieutenant—running out of steam?”
“No, afraid of launching without a target.”
She laughed and increased pressure, stroking him wildly and pushing his trousers down. He kicked them aside, pulling her flush against him. The impact of flesh to flesh left them shuddering, weak.
His hands mapped her body, stroked and dipped, and he wasn’t the only player. Her touch taunted him, made him grow harder, and he scooped her into his arms, then strode to the bed. He set her in the center and she pulled him down, opening for him, eager for him to be inside her.
Skin met skin and he held her, wrapping her in muscle and man, and Melanie thought, Never in my life has it been this perfect. When he reached for the end table, she took the condom from him.
He arched a brow.
She grinned and pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs. Jack sat up. She pushed him down, then opened the packet and drove him wild as she rolled it down.
“Melanie! Sweet mercy!”
“I don’t think so,” she said, and shifted to straddle his hips.
He grinned, loving her openness, and cupped her breasts, leaning up to take her nipple into his mouth.
Melanie forgot almost everything when he did that. “Oh, Jack, you do that so well.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled, kissing his face, then rose. “My hero.”
He guided himself into her, and she held on to his shoulders, meeting his gaze as she sank down. He filled her, thick and throbbing. Jack experienced more than the feel of this woman around him, of being so deep inside her. But he didn’t understand it. He tipped his head back and she smoothed hair from his brow, let her fingertips stroke his face.
“Melanie—”
“Shh,” she said. “Not now.” She saw it, the connection that went deeper than sex. All wild and hurried eagerness was gone. The rush had died to a sweet poignancy. They had to have each other. It was as if pieces were missing and here they came together. Joined. One.
She moved, releasing him and taking him back, claiming a man she could never have. He was a mustang. Free. Noble.
And she wouldn’t dare try to tie him down. Or ask him to stay. Though she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him when she’d only just found him.
Two weeks was not enough. Yet in his eyes, in the eyes that could be cold as ice and tender as a lamb, she saw more. More than he could give. More than sex.
Jack grasped her hips, his gaze never leaving hers as he gave her motion, never leaving hers as he pulled her down onto the bed beneath him and pushed deeply into her.
Her legs trapped him and he went willingly into the snare.
Her heart beat against his and he danced to the tune. Sinking. He withdrew and plunged, and she rose to greet him, to take him into her and into her soul. And when feminine flesh gripped him in a slick glove, pulsing as he pulsed inside her, Jack knew he’d relive this night a thousand times in the future. And want it never to end.
He pushed, long deep strokes that brought cries from her, brought pleasure in mounting waves. Their tempo increased, bodies moving in a damp and primal rhythm, his gaze locked on hers and refusing to let go. Flesh throbbed and squeezed; he drove deeper.
Then it came, the hot prickling rush that fought the surface of skin and bone and erupted. Sensations folded in on each other, breaking apart and coming together in a blinding moment that hung for seconds, then minutes before releasing them.
He thrust hard once and final. A claim. He watched her green eyes darken, watched her smile bloom and felt warmth spread through him. She pulled him down onto her, holding him as the rapture faded.
She whispered his name in a throaty purr, then kissed him with a power he’d never felt before.
He knew then and there he’d never stop wanting her. And that the night wasn’t over yet….
The phone rang at 0600 hours and Jack groped for it, knocking it off the cradle and then dragging it to his ear.
“This better be good, Reese.” Otherwise, his good buddy was going to earn himself a black eye.
“Lieutenant Singer? This is Colonel Walsh.”
Jack was instantly awake and sitting up. “Yes, sir.”
“Plans have changed. Report ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How was the wedding, son?”
Jack’s gaze moved to the slender bare back tucked against his thigh. “Memorable, sir. Perfect.”
“Outstanding. See you in a few hours.” The colonel hung up.
Hours. Damn.
Melanie turned her head and met Jack’s gaze. “You have to go, huh?”
He nodded, sliding down into the bed and pulling her into his arms. She scooted on top of him, resting her folded arms on his chest.
“I knew this would come,” she said, and her eyes teared. She was going to miss him. “I was just hoping for a few days with you.”
He ran his hands over her naked spine. “Me, too.”
She inched up to kiss him. “Don’t ask me to wait for you, Jack. I don’t know if I could stand not knowing when or if you’ll ever come back.”
“I’ll come back and when I do, I want to—”
She shook her head. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’m not.”
“Why?”
“Because I more than like you.” Oh, she was falling for him too fast, she thought. “And I can’t put my hopes on a man.”
Jack frowned softly, and realized he knew very little about this woman’s past. But he could tell she’d been hurt. Badly.
Melanie wasn’t going to cling to Jack, nor to any man. She’d been left alone with only her broken heart to hold more times than a woman should have to suffer. She had to go on with her life as if he’d never touched her heart so deeply, as if they’d never joined so intimately.
It was almost good that he was leaving so soon. Two more weeks of Lt. Jack Singer and she’d find herself hip-deep in love with him. And that was dangerous. And pointless.
He rolled her onto her back. “I’m not one of those guys—”
“Shh,” she said, and spread her thighs, urging him between. “Come to me, Jack,” she whispered, and tried to keep her voice even. “Before you head to parts unknown for who knows how long. Give me all you hide from the world.”
He searched her eyes. “Why?”
“Because I’ll keep it safe.” It was all she could offer.
He pushed inside her, losing himself in her, giving her what she wanted. All that he had.
And little did they both know, leaving a bit of himself behind.
