The SEAL’s Surprise Baby: Hartsville’s SEAL Heroes Book Two Read online

  “Well, I think I’ll get in with you, clothes and all.” She evaluated her running shorts and T-shirt. A little water wouldn’t hurt them any. Grabbing the baby wash, she got into the tub and propped Nate between her knees. “Ready to get clean, baby boy?”

  She gently washed his hair and face, removing the last traces of the dirt. She’d scrub the rest of him in a minute, after she let him play. Nate splashed his hands in the water and squealed with delight.

  “Your daddy likes the water, too, or I think he does.” She’d known Anderson in landlocked Moscow, but he was a SEAL, and by definition they spent time in the water during training and missions. “We’ll have to ask him about that.”

  Living in the safe house with Anderson was a surprising bonus for her, because it gave her an opportunity to see him differently. Even if he wouldn’t be present in her and Nate’s life, she’d have some stories to tell Nate when he asked about his daddy later.

  “Come in,” she called when a knock sounded on the bathroom door. Anderson pushed the door open, and his eyes widened in surprise. “What?” she asked with a grin. “Never seen anyone take a bath with all her clothes on?”

  “Not what I was expecting,” he said, making her wonder what he had expected.

  As a matter of fact, why had he offered to help anyway? For a man who claimed he wasn’t interested in fatherhood, he sure seemed to be making an effort. She formed a quick plan to take advantage of that.

  “I can’t promise you won’t get wet,” she said, “but if you want to learn how to give him a bath, this is a good time.”

  “Sure.” Anderson stripped off his shirt and knelt by the tub.

  Violet reminded herself to keep her attention on the task at hand. A shirtless Anderson was enough to distract most any woman. “I’ve already washed his hair and face, but he’s still plenty dirty.” She tickled Nate under the chin. “Aren’t you, babe?”

  “Tell me what to do,” Anderson said, rubbing his hand over the baby’s clean hair.

  “Add a little soap to the washcloth,” she said, handing him the wet cloth, “and start cleaning. I usually start from the top and go down to the toes. Be careful not to scrub too hard. Baby skin is delicate.” Anderson cautiously started wiping down Nate’s neck and torso. “That’s it. You’ve got it. He’s way easier to wash now that he’s bigger. Newborns are tough to bathe.”

  “And you were on your own.” Anderson was so focused on washing Nate’s back that she couldn’t tell whether he felt any regret over having missed that time with Nate or if his words were just an observation.

  “My mom came for his birth,” she said, “and she stayed with me for the first two weeks. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t alone,” he said, beginning on Nate’s legs.

  “Now, I’m never alone,” she quipped. Having a baby made even simple things more challenging, but she couldn’t imagine being without him now. He was truly a bundle of joy.

  “Is that a problem?” Anderson looked up at her.

  “Not at all.” She smiled at his question. “I love him.”

  Anderson nodded and went back to bathing Nate before saying, “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “I’m lucky to have him,” she said softly, wondering who this Anderson was. He wasn’t quite the man she’d known in Moscow. She watched him as he scrubbed between Nate’s toes. Anderson was the same in some ways. Intense and dedicated to the job, protective. In other ways, though, he was all new to her.

  “I think he’s clean.” Anderson rocked back on his heels and reached for a towel she’d put nearby.

  “Usually he likes to play in the tub, but he seems a bit sleepy. I’ll bet he’d take a nap long enough for us to eat dinner without him. Would you get him dressed and put him in the crib while I…” She gestured to her soaked clothes.

  “Sure, and take your time. I’ve got him.” Anderson wrapped the baby in the towel after Violet lifted him from the tub.

  Violet listened until she heard Anderson talking to Nate in the baby’s room before hopping out of the tub herself. If he was willing to watch their son for a while, she was going to take a genuine bath. She stripped off her wet clothes and added hot water and a lavender-scented bath bomb to the tub before getting back in.

  Heavenly, she thought as she sank in up to her neck. She’d only taken a few baths since Nate’s birth, and always with the baby monitor by her side. No need for that today. Time in the tub did a lot to erase her worries about the threat against them—at least temporarily. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease as she reminded herself that she and Anderson worked well as a team. Together, they could manage anything, despite their differences.

  Could they manage parenting? That was a complex question. She lacked the data to make an accurate projection, so she might as well not worry about it. Putting any serious thoughts out of her head for a while, she relaxed deeper into the tub until the water started to cool. Then she dried off and put on the terry cloth robe she’d left on a hook, before making her way to her room for a change of clothes. She’d just pulled shorts and a shirt out of a drawer when she saw Anderson in the doorway. She watched his gaze travel from her legs up to her face.

  “Is Nate okay?” she asked, perusing his bare chest where every muscle was defined. Her fingers tingled, remembering what it had felt like to run her hands over his hard body.

  “He went out like a light after I rocked him for a few minutes,” he said, walking into the room.

  “Good,” she said and waited. Was there something else on Anderson’s mind? She thought so. Last night during their kiss, she’d sensed he’d wanted more. She’d definitely wanted him, even if it wasn’t smart to go down that road. For most of the day, she’d kept focused on her work and tucked away how that kiss had reawakened the passion she’d felt for him. She could no longer do that when he was standing in her bedroom.

  The question was this: Who would make the first move?

  “We could make dinner,” he suggested, “or we could pick up where we left off last night.”

  She felt a little breathless just thinking about what could happen between them. “Will we be able to stop at kissing?”

  “Not if it’s up to me, which means I should probably walk out of here right now.” He came to stand in front of her instead of heading for the door. “Except I don’t want to do that.”

  She tossed the clothes she was holding on top of the dresser and reached for him, running one finger down his chest. When they’d had sex in Moscow, it had been intense, dynamic, and oh, so good. Everything about this moment felt different. The same desire was there, but the room was charged with a different array of emotions. Ones she couldn’t so easily name but had to act on.

  She loosened the tie of her robe and, with a shrug, let it drop to the floor. His gaze traveled over her again, and she wondered what he was thinking. “Remember, I’ve had a baby,” she said. Her body had changed in ways that he was sure to notice.

  “You’re more beautiful than ever.” His voice was a whisper as his eyes came back to hers. “Should we try a bed this time?”

  “I think that would be… nice,” she said and took his hand to lead him to her bed. She pulled back the covers, got in, and watched while he removed his shorts, baring the rest of his beautiful body.

  “Condoms?” he asked before joining her.

  She laughed and tilted her head in the direction of Nate’s room. “That didn’t work for us, but it’s okay. I’m on the pill now, and I’m STI negative.” She’d had routine tests during her pregnancy, and she hadn’t had sex since the night Nate was conceived.

  “Me, too. Well, not the pill part,” he said with a chuckle. He sat on the edge of the bed and touched her hair, fanned out across the pillow.

  She wanted to ask if he’d been with anyone since her, but she didn’t have the right. She wasn’t his wife or girlfriend. She was his baby mama. Not a bad title, but it came without privileges.
r />   “I don’t remember this,” he said, lightly touching the tattoo on her left side. “A bluebird. Very pretty.”

  “It was dark,” she said, referring to their sexual encounter in Moscow, “and we were in a hurry.”

  “No hurry this time.”

  If he wanted to take it slow, that was fine with her, but she wanted him closer. She patted the bed next to him.

  He took the hint and lay on the bed but then surprised her by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her on top of him. She could feel every inch of him, including the erection that pushed into her stomach. This was perfect. She loved the feel of his warm skin under hers.

  “Where were we last night?” He stroked his fingers over her cheek and along her lower lip.

  “Kissing, but we had more clothing on,” she teased as she combed the hair back from his temple.

  “Not by choice.” He chuckled, and then his face became serious as he studied her. She thought he might not speak again. “Kiss me,” he finally said, echoing his demand from the previous night.

  She lowered her lips to his and let the kiss speak for her. They kissed for a long time, almost as if they were becoming reacquainted. At first, it was light, but as the kiss deepened, his hands stroked down her back, kneading her skin and increasing her desire. She rubbed against him, and he broke the kiss with a moan.

  She lowered her head and kissed down his neck to his chest, running her tongue over his flat nipples and enjoying the hitch in his breathing. Slowly, she moved farther down him, kissing and licking. When she’d nearly reached his erection, he rolled her onto her back.

  “Hey! I was just getting to the good part,” she said, and immediately sucked in a breath when his mouth closed over her nipple. It felt as good as she remembered from that hectic, passion-driven episode. This slow seduction was better, though. This was making love, not having sex. Did he feel that way, too?

  “This is good.” His words were muffled against her skin as he moved his lips over her. “I’ve been dreaming of this.”

  She’d had dreams about him as well, so many she’d lost count. The reality of him as a lover was far better. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what he was doing as he continued to move down her body. She felt a kiss on her hip bone, another just below her navel, one on the inside of her thigh. A rush of moist heat flooded between her legs, and then she felt his tongue part her, felt it swirl over her cunt. He’d done that to her in Moscow, but then it had been a form of erotic torture. Now, he was trying to please her with his gentle, evocative strokes.

  “I want you inside me,” she murmured, on the verge of coming.

  He stilled before placing a last kiss on her cunt, then took his time as he came back to her, his mouth coasting up her body until they were face-to-face. She arched up, initiating another kiss as she wrapped her legs around him, silently asking for what they both wanted. Without breaking the kiss, he entered her, and she gasped at the fullness.

  They moved together, skin rubbing on skin, as the rhythm built and she felt an intense coiling inside her that was waiting to release. One more thrust, one more stroke and she came. She held him tighter to her, letting the orgasm play out. He pushed into her again, and she felt him throb and pulse before he buried his head in her hair and whispered her name, over and over.

  A minute later, he rolled off her but pulled her with him so they lay together on their sides facing each other. It was intimate and beautiful. Violet snuggled into him and rested her head on the pillow by his. She valued her independence, but this connection between them was too strong to ignore. She didn’t even try to resist the force that seemed to bring them together.

  If only it would last beyond their time at the safe house.

  No. She couldn’t let herself go there. Now was enough.

  10

  A few days later, Violet took advantage of some quiet time to straighten up. She moved through the kitchen putting dishes away before heading to the dining room, which they only used as a space to work. The laptop, hard drive, and a legal pad where she’d written some notes were on the shiny surface.

  When she picked up her legal pad, she spied one of Anderson’s small notebooks beneath it. Unusual for it to be out of his pocket, she thought, as she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. She was curious—what did he record? She listened but didn’t hear him in the house. He must still be in the backyard with Nate. She’d just take a peek.

  She flipped open the notebook at the halfway point, focusing on a page of handwritten text. His notes appeared to be in sort of code. She studied it for a minute, looking for patterns and clues how to interpret it. It seemed to be a blend of several languages. She saw Russian, Arabic, and Spanish, but it was more complicated than that. She looked closer. After a few minutes she caught on to some of it. He rendered English words using foreign alphabets. Clever. It would take time and a vast knowledge of language to understand it all.

  She continued toward the back of the notebook and stopped at a random page where everything was in English. Starting to read, she smiled as she recognized the dirt-eating story and the subsequent bath. Anderson had recounted what happened, along with his fears and worries.

  “How sweet,” she murmured when she read Anderson’s version of rocking his son to sleep while she was in the tub. The story ended there and didn’t include the time they’d spent in her bed. That hour had been the best part of her day.

  She felt a happy glow just remembering it. Since then, he’d joined her in the master bedroom each night. They hadn’t discussed the future, because there were no answers—not easy ones, anyway. One day at a time, she reminded herself. Looking at it that way enabled her to enjoy being with him.

  She continued on to the last entry in the notebook, about their picnic in the backyard from the day before. His account was surprisingly detailed. He seemed to paint a picture with his descriptions, as if he wanted something tangible to remember the experience by. Was this his way of expressing what he couldn’t say?

  When she heard footsteps in the kitchen, she quickly tucked the notebook away and busied herself sorting through some junk mail that had arrived at the house. A few seconds later, Anderson was in the doorway with Nate.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, looking up.

  “Yeah, but I thought I’d take Nate for a trip around the neighborhood. He’s getting bored.”

  Anderson had gone from not knowing anything about babies to being able to perceive Nate’s mood before he started fussing. Interesting, but she kept the observation to herself. If she said something, Anderson would be sure to deny it.

  “Sure, that’s a good idea,” she said. A neighbor had loaned them a stroller when she saw they didn’t have one.

  “Lock up after me,” Anderson said.

  “I will.” They were careful about locking doors and setting the alarm system. She noticed, though, that the neighbors didn’t seem to worry about home security much. They came and went freely, without the constant vigilance she and Anderson had to maintain.

  After she helped strap Nate into the stroller, she gave each of her boys a kiss and held the door for them. She sighed once they were on the sidewalk. She’d like to keep everything just like this… minus the threat against them. That she could do without.

  She locked the door carefully, then noticed a message from her mom on her phone. She had some alone time, so she started a video call.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said as she went up the stairs to the bedroom. They’d been in touch enough that her mom knew she was safe but on the move.

  “Hi, honey.” Her mom smiled at her. “Is your situation any better?”

  “Still in the middle of it, but no developments. We’re safe.” Seeing her mom helped give Violet a sense of normalcy. No matter what had happened in Violet’s life, her mother had been there for her.

  Her mother scrutinized her. “I’ll take your word for that. How’s my grandson?”

  “He’s doing fine. Thank goodness he’
s young, so he can’t ask questions about why we’re in a strange house.” Disrupting a baby’s schedule was no picnic, but she couldn’t imagine trying to get an older child to understand the situation. Plus, Nate was too young to be scared as long as she and Anderson were calm around him.

  “Can I see him, or is he napping?” her mom asked.

  “Neither,” Violet answered, sitting on the bed and propping herself against the headboard. “Anderson took him for a walk, but I’ll send you a new picture later.”

  “Anderson is… doing okay with this?”

  Violet had told her mother about the brief affair in Moscow and what she knew of Anderson, including her analysis that he wouldn’t welcome being a father.

  “Surprisingly well. He’s jumped in with both feet and seems interested in caring for Nate. Not what I anticipated.” What she didn’t know was how long it would last.

  “That’s good, right?” her mother prompted.

  “It is. I’m happy to be wrong about him, but…”

  “But what, honey?” Her mother’s expression was worried.

  “He told me he didn’t want to be a father,” Violet said, remembering Anderson’s immediate rejection of the idea. “He made that very plain the first day, so I’m afraid to trust his behavior now.”

  Her mom was quiet for a few seconds before speaking again. “You know words aren’t always the best way for people to convey what’s inside them.”

  “I do.” Her work had taught Violet that. People’s words weren’t always the truth, because words sprang from fear, passion, or a hundred other emotions. Actions were the better indicator of what was inside someone, what their true feelings were. Anderson’s actions had all indicated his ability to be a father.

  But would he let himself be? That was a question she couldn’t answer.

  “And what about his actions toward you?” Her mother’s tone was gentle.