Debbie Macomber's Navy Box Set

  “Come here and I’ll show you how much.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “No way, fellow. I’d like my baby’s bedroom painted before she makes her debut.” Carol noted the way Steve’s face still tightened at the mention of her pregnancy and some of the happiness she’d experienced by his unexpected visit evaporated. He’d told her he was trying to accept her child and she believed him, but her patience was wearing perilously thin. After all, this child was his, too, and it was time he acknowledged the fact.

  Pride drove her chin so high that the back of her neck ached. She reached for another paintbrush, her shoulders stiff with frustration. “I can do this myself, you know.”

  “I know,” he returned.

  “It isn’t like I’m helpless.”

  “I know that, too.”

  Her voice trembled a little. “It isn’t like you really want this baby.”

  An electric silence vibrated between them, arcing and spitting tension. Steve reacted to it first by lowering his brush.

  “Carol, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say or do anything to upset you. My offer to help is sincere—I’d like to do what I can, if you’ll let me.” She bit into her lower lip and nodded. “I … I was being oversensitive, I guess.”

  “No,” he hurried to correct her, “the problem is mine, but I’m dealing with it the best way I know how. I need time, that’s all.”

  His gaze dropped to her protruding stomach and Carol saw a look of anguish flitter through his eyes, one so fleeting, so transient that for a second she was sure she was mistaken.

  “Well,” she said, drawing in a deep breath. “Are we going to paint or are we going to sit here and grumble at each other all day?”

  “Paint,” Steve answered, swiping the air with his brush, as if he were warding off pirates.

  Carol smiled, then placed the back of her hand over her forehead and sighed. “My hero,” she said teasingly.

  By noon the last of the walls were covered and the white trim complete around the window and door.

  Carol stepped back to survey their work. “Oh, Steve,” she said with an elongated sigh. She slipped her arm around his waist. “It’s lovely.”

  “I sincerely hope you get the girl you want so much, because a boy could take offense at all this pink.”

  “I am having a girl.”

  “You’re sure?” He cocked his eyebrows with the question, his expression dubious.

  “No-o-o, but my odds are fifty-fifty, and I’m choosing to think positive.”

  His arm tightened around her waist. “You’ve got paint in your hair,” he said, looking down at her.

  Wrinkling her nose, she riffled her fingers through her bangs. Steve’s hand stopped her. His eyes lovingly stroked her face as if he meant to study each feature and commit it to memory. His gaze filled with such longing, such adoration that Carol felt as if she were some heavenly creature he’d been forbidden to touch. He raised his hand to her mouth and she stopped breathing for a moment.

  His touch was unbelievably delicate as he rubbed the back of his knuckles over her moist lips. He released her and backed away, his breath audible.

  Carol lifted her hand to the side of his face and he closed his eyes when the tips of her fingers grazed his cheek.

  “Thank you for being here,” she whispered. “Thank you for helping.”

  “I always want to be with you.” He placed his hand over hers, intertwining their fingers. Tenderly, almost against his will, he lowered his knuckles to her breast, dragging them across the rigid, sensitive tip. Slowly. Gently. Back and forth. Again and again.

  Carol sucked in her breath at the wild sensation that galloped through her blood. Her control was slipping. Fast. She felt weak, as though she would drop to the floor, and yet she didn’t let go of his hand, pinning it against her throbbing nipple.

  “How does that feel?” he asked, and he rotated his thumb around and around, intensifying the pleasure.

  “… so good,” she told him, her voice husky and barely audible.

  “It’s good for me, too.”

  His eyes were closed. As Carol watched his face harden with desire she knew her features were equally sharp.

  He kissed her then, and the taste of him was so sweet, so incredibly good. His lips teased hers, his tongue probing her mouth, tracing first her upper and then her lower lip in a leisurely exercise. The kiss grew sweeter yet, and deeper.

  Steve broke away and pressed his forehead against hers while taking in huge, ragged puffs of air. “There’s something you should know.”

  “What?” She wrapped her hands around his middle, craving the feel of his body against her own.

  “The orders for the Atlantis came in. I have to leave tomorrow.”

  Carol went stock-still. “Tomorrow?”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I’d do anything I could to get out of this, but I can’t.”

  “I … know.”

  “I got some Family-grams so you can let me know when the baby’s born.”

  Carol remembered completing the short telegramlike messages while they were married. She was allowed to send a handful during the course of a tour, but under strict conditions. She wasn’t allowed to use any codes, and she was prohibited from relaying any unpleasant news. She had forty-six words to tell him everything that was happening in her life. Forty-six words to tell him when his daughter was born, forty-six words to convince him this baby was his.

  His hand slipped inside the waistband of her summer shorts and flattened over the baby. “I’ll be waiting to hear.”

  Carol didn’t know what to tell him. The baby could very well be born while he was away. It all depended on his schedule.

  “I’d like to be here for you.”

  “I’ll be fine…. Both of us will.” Carol felt as if she was going to dissolve into tears, her anguish was so keen. Her hand reached for his face and she traced his eyebrows, the arch of his cheek, his nose and his mouth with fingers that trembled with the strength of her love.

  His hands slid behind her and cupped her buttocks, lifting her so that the junction between her thighs was nestled against the strong evidence of his desire.

  “I want to make love,” she whispered into his mouth, and then kissed him.

  He shut his eyes. “Carol, no—you were right, we should wait. We’ve done this too often before … we …”

  She hooked her left leg around his thigh and felt a surge of triumph at the shudder that went through him.

  “Carol …”

  Before he could think or move, she jerked the T-shirt off her head and quickly disposed of her bra. Her mouth worked frantically over his, darting her tongue in and out of his mouth, kissing him with a hunger that had been building within her for months. Her fingers worked feverishly at the buttons of his shirt. Once it was unfastened, she pulled his shirttails free of his waistband and bared his chest. Having achieved her objective, she leaned toward him just enough so that her bare breasts grazed his chest.

  The low rumbling sound in Steve’s throat made her smile. Slowly then, with unhurried ease, she swayed her torso, taking her pleasure by rubbing her distended nipples over the tense muscles of his upper body.

  Steve’s breathing came in short, rasping gasps as he spoke. “Maybe I was a bit hasty …” Carol locked her hands behind his head. “How long will you be gone?” she asked, knowing full well the answer.

  “Three months.”

  “You were too hasty.”

  “Does this mean … you’re willing?”

  “I was willing the other night.”

  “Oh, dear God, Carol, I want you so much.” She rubbed her thigh over his engorged manhood and he groaned. “I know what you want.” She kissed him with all the pent-up longings of her heart. “I want you, too. Do you have any idea how much?”

  He darted his tongue over one rigid nipple, feasting and sucking at her until she gave a small cry.

  He lifted his head and chuckled. “Good, then the feeling’s mutual.” br />
  With that, he swung her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Very gently he laid her atop the mattress and leaned over her, his upper body pinning her to the bed.

  He stared down at her and his eyes darkened, but not with passion. It was something more, an emotion she couldn’t readily identify.

  “Will I … is there any chance I’ll hurt the baby?” He whispered the question, his gaze narrowed and filled with concern.

  “None.”

  He sighed his relief. “Oh, Carol, I love you so much.”

  She closed her eyes and directed his mouth to hers. She loved him, too, and she was about to prove how much.

  Carol woke an hour before the alarm was set to ring. Steve slept soundly at her side, cuddling her spoon-fashion, his hand cupping the warm underside of her breast.

  They’d spent the lazy afternoon making slow, leisurely love. Then they’d showered, eaten and made love again, with the desperation that comes of knowing it would be three months before they saw each other again.

  It was morning. Soon he would be leaving her again. A lump of pain began to unflower inside her. It was always this way when Steve left. For years she’d hid her sorrow behind a cheerful smile, but she couldn’t do that anymore. She couldn’t disguise how weak and vulnerable she was without him.

  Not again.

  When it became impossible to hold back the tears, she silently slipped from the bed, donned her robe and moved into the kitchen. Once there, she put on a pot of coffee just so she’d be doing something.

  Steve found her sitting at the table with a large pile of tissues stacked next to her coffee cup. She looked up at him, and sobbed once, and reached for another Kleenex.

  “G-g-good m-morning,” she blubbered. “D-did you sleep well?”

  Obviously bewildered, Steve nodded. “You didn’t?”

  “I s-slept okay.”

  Watching her closely, he walked over to the table. “You’re crying.”

  “I know that,” she managed between sobs.

  “But why?”

  If he wasn’t smart enough to figure that out then he didn’t deserve to know.

  “Carol, are you upset because I’m leaving?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Bingo—give the man a Kewpie doll.”

  He knelt down beside her, took her free hand and kissed the back of it. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and waited until she swallowed and found her voice.

  “I hate it when you have to leave me,” she confessed when she could talk. “Every time I think we’re getting somewhere you sail off into the sunset.”

  “I’m coming back.”

  “Not for three months.” She jerked the tissue down both sides of her face. “I always c-cry when you go. You just never see me. This t-time I can’t … h-hold it in a minute longer.”

  Steve knelt in front of her and wrapped his arms around her middle. With his head pressed over her breast, one hand rested on top of her rounded stomach.

  “I’ll be back, Carol.”

  “I … know.”

  “But this time when I return, it’ll be special.” She nodded because speaking had become impossible.

  “We’ll have a family.”

  She sucked in her breath and nodded.

  “Dammit, Carol, don’t you know that I hate leaving you, too?”

  She shrugged.

  “And worse, every time I go, I regret that we aren’t married. Don’t you think we should take care of that next time?”

  She hiccuped. “Maybe we should.”

  Eighteen

  “This works out great,” Lindy said, standing in line for coffee aboard the ferry Yakima as it eased away from the Seattle wharf, heading toward Bremerton. “You can drop me off at Susan’s and I can ride home with Rush. I couldn’t have planned this any better myself.”

  “Glad to help,” Steve answered, but his thoughts weren’t on his sister. Carol continued to dominate his mind. He’d left her only a couple of hours earlier and it felt as if years had passed—years or simply minutes, he couldn’t decide which.

  She’d stood on the front porch as he walked across the lawn to his car. The morning sunlight had silhouetted her figure against the house. Tears had brightened her eyes and a shaky smile wobbled over her mouth. When he’d opened the car door and looked back, she’d raised a hand in silent farewell and done her best to send him off with a proud smile.

  Steve had stood there paralyzed, not wanting to leave her, loving her more than he thought it was possible to care about anyone. His gaze centered on her abdomen and the child she carried and his heart lurched with such pain that he nearly dropped to his knees. There stood Carol, the woman he loved and would always love, and she carried another man’s child. The anguish built up inside him like steam ready to explode out of a teakettle. But as quickly as the emotion came, it left him. The baby was Carol’s, a part of her, an innocent. This child deserved his love. It shouldn’t matter who the father was. If Steve was going to marry Carol—which he fully intended to do—she came as part of a package deal. Carol and the baby. He sucked in his breath, determined to do his best for them both.

  Now, hours later, the picture of her standing there on the porch continued to scorch his mind.

  “Lindy,” he said, as they reached a table, “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  Steve pulled out his checkbook and set it on the table. “I want you to go to the JCPenney store and buy a crib, and a few other things.”

  “Steve, listen …”

  “The crib’s called the Jenny Lind—at least I think it was.” The picture of Carol running her hand over the railing that day he’d followed her came to his mind. “It’s white, I remember that much. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble knowing which one I mean once you see their selection.”

  “I take it you want the crib for Carol?”

  “Of course. And while you’re there, pick out a high chair and stroller and whatever else you can find that you think she could use.”

  “Steve, no.”

  “No!” He couldn’t believe his sister. “Why the hell not?”

  “When I agreed to do you a favor, I thought you wanted me to pick up your cleaning or check on the apartment—that sort of thing. If you want to buy things for Carol, I’m refusing you point-blank. I won’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Why?” Lindy and Carol were the best of friends. His sister couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d suggested he leap off the ferry.

  “Remember the dress?” Lindy asked, and her chest heaved with undisguised resentment. “I felt like a real heel giving her that, and worse, lying about it.” Her face bunched into a tight frown. “Carol was as excited as a kid at Christmas over that maternity dress, and I had to tell her I’d seen it on sale and thought of her and how I hoped against hope that it would fit.” She paused and glared at him accusingly. “You know I’m not the least bit good at lying. It’s a wonder Carol didn’t figure it out. And if I didn’t feel bad enough about the dress, the rattle really did it.”

  Steve frowned, too. He’d asked Lindy to make up some story about the dress and the toy so that Carol wouldn’t know he’d been following her that afternoon. Those had been dark days for him—and for Carol.

  “Did you know,” Lindy demanded, cutting into his thoughts and waving her finger under his nose, “Carol got all misty over that silver rattle?” The look she gave Steve accused him of being a coward. “I nearly started crying by the time she finished.”

  Steve’s hand cupped the Styrofoam container of coffee. “I’m glad she liked it.”

  “It was the first thing anyone had given her for the baby, and she was so pleased that she could barely talk.” Lindy paused and slowly shook her head. “I felt like the biggest idiot alive to take credit for that.”

  “If you’ll recall, sister dearest, Carol didn’t want to have anything to do with me at the time.”

  Lindy’s eyes rounded with outra
ge. “And little wonder. You are so dense sometimes, Steve Kyle.”

  Steve ignored his sister’s sarcasm and wrote out a check, doubling the amount he’d originally intended. “Buy her a bunch of baby clothes while you’re at it … and send her a huge bouquet of roses when she’s in the hospital, too.”

  “Steve … I don’t know.”

  He refused to argue with her. Instead, he tore off the check, and slipped it across the table.

  Lindy took it and studied the amount. She arched her eyebrows and released a soft, low whistle. “I’m not hiding this. I’m going to tell Carol all these gifts are from you. I refuse to lie this time.”

  “Fine … do what you think is best.”

  Steve watched as she folded the check in half and stuck it inside a huge bag she called her purse.

  “Actually you may be sorry you trusted me with this task later,” Lindy announced, looking inordinately pleased about something.

  She said this with a soft smile, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “Why’s that?”

  Lindy rested her elbows on the tabletop and sighed. “Rush and I are planning to start our family.”

  The thought of his little sister pregnant did funny things to Steve. She was ten years younger than he was and he’d always thought of her as a baby herself. An equally strange image flittered into this mind—one of his friend Rush holding an infant in his arms. The thought brought a warm smile with it. When it came to the Navy, Rush knew everything there was to know. Every rule, every regulation—he loved military life. Rush was destined to command ships and men. But when it came to babies—why, Rush Callaghan wouldn’t know one end from the other. One thing Steve did know about his friend, though—he knew Rush would love his children with the same intensity that he loved Lindy. Any brother and uncle-to-be couldn’t ask for anything more.

  “Rush will be a good father,” Steve murmured, still smiling.

  “So will you,” Lindy countered.

  Blood drained from his heart and brain at his sister’s comment. “Yes,” Steve admitted, and the word felt as if it had been ripped from his soul. He was going to love Carol’s child; he accepted the baby then as surely as he knew the moon circled the earth. When the little one was born, he was going to be as proud and as pleased as if she were his own seed.