Читать книгу Daddy In Dress Blues - Cathie Linz - Страница 9

“YOUR HAIR WAS LONGER then, but you gave me the same speech about being ‘willing to learn’ when you offered to tutor me in Geometry.”

Jessie the Brain. Curt couldn’t believe that she was back in his life again after all this time. The last time he’d seen her was…

He frowned. It had to have been that night before he’d left to join the marines. The memory was blurred by his having indulged in way too much alcohol that night. He recalled them bumping into each other and his surprise—first that he’d asked her to join him for a joy ride in his old red Mustang, second that she’d actually accepted, and third that he’d let her drive his car. They’d ended up in some park somewhere, and he’d kissed her…several times.

What happened after that wasn’t clear. But the next morning, he’d woken with the worst hangover of his life. His temples throbbed just thinking about it.

As for the vague sense of guilt he was feeling, no doubt it was a result of the fact that he’d never gotten in touch with her again after that night.

At the time, he’d briefly wondered how far their making out had gone. Had he reached first base…or third? There was little to no chance he’d hit a home run and gone all the way—not with Jessie the Brain. She was a “good” girl, pure and demure. His total opposite.

Maybe this explained why she’d stared at him with such underlying hostility earlier. He’d probably made an idiot of himself that night, and she’d put him in his place when he’d tried to seduce her.

He looked at her with new eyes. Her honey-blond hair used to be longer, almost down to her waist. It was barely shoulder-length now, in one of those layered cuts that women these days seemed to favor. A hazy memory of him threading his fingers through her long silky hair flashed through his mind with the abruptness of an exploding land mine. He blinked at the unexpected vision. But when he tried to recapture the image, it was gone.

She had cat’s eyes, tipped up at the outside corners. Leaning forward, he saw that they were an intense shade of green that reminded him of the jungles in the Philippines. Unless she was wearing colored contact lenses?

He cynically reminded himself that women had various ways of camouflaging themselves into something they weren’t—everything from nose jobs to breast implants.

His gaze slid down her body with quick efficiency. She was wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a pink shirt. Nothing sexy there. Very practical attire. But beneath that no-nonsense outfit she had a Marilyn Monroe kind of figure that wasn’t popular on TV and movies these days, but which any man preferred over skinny orphan looks. He’d seen too many skinny orphans during his tours of duty overseas. Their grateful looks and shy smiles when he’d handed out candy bars that he’d always kept in his pocket still haunted his sleep some nights.

Jessie the Brain wasn’t the type of woman who’d haunt a man’s dreams. There wasn’t anything about her that really stood out, aside from those catlike green eyes. But there was something about her just the same, an inner strength combined with a warm heart.

Here was a woman who faced life head-on. Here was a woman not impressed by his uniform. Here was a woman staring at him with disapproval and dismay—the kind of look he’d gotten from a majority of the adults in his teenage life. Not a look he’d received lately.

“It’s been a long time,” he murmured.

She shrugged.

“Jessie the Brain.” He shook his head, as if still unable to believe they’d run into each other again. “After all these years. Your hair is shorter now.”

Her hand flew up to her hair as if guilty at being caught. “So’s yours,” she shot back.

He nodded with a sense of satisfaction. Oh, yeah, she was definitely the kind of woman who could hold her own.

“But getting back to your daughter.” Her voice held a no-nonsense tone that made him smile for some reason. “I really do think it would be best if you took one of the parenting classes at the community college—”

He cut off her words with a sharp wave of his hand. “You already said you’d be willing to work with me. There’s no backing out now.”

“I wasn’t trying to back out.”

His look challenged her claim.

“Okay, maybe I was,” she admitted. “Because I’m not at all sure of your commitment to learning and to working with me.”

His narrowed gaze had made new recruits quiver in their boots. “You’re questioning my commitment?”

She showed no signs of being intimidated. Instead she gave him a narrow-eyed gaze of her own. “Do you really think you can hack Daddy Boot Camp?”

“Just try me,” he said.

“If I think for one minute you’re slacking off—”

“I’m a marine,” he interrupted her. “We don’t slack off.”

“Fine.” She grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down a few things before handing it to him. “Read these books by the weekend. I’m busy on Saturday, but I have Sunday free. I’ll put you through some parenting exercises then.”

“Outstanding. Your place or mine?”

His place or hers? Which would be the lesser of two evils, Jessica wondered. Having him invade her domain, or venturing into enemy territory by going to his place? The practical side of her pointed out that if she went to his place, she’d have a chance to see for herself where Blue lived and under what conditions.

“Your place,” she said crisply.

“Excellent.” His voice was just as crisp. Frowning, he said, “Do you keep in touch with anyone from the old neighborhood?”

She didn’t want to talk about the past, but his question was so innocuous that it would raise a red flag if she didn’t reply. “Only Amy Weissman. I wasn’t exactly the most popular girl in school.” She was pleased to hear that her voice sounded matter-of-fact and displayed no bitterness.

Instead of commenting on her statement, Curt said, “So I guess you went on to college just like you planned? The University of Illinois was it?”

She was surprised he’d remembered that much. “That’s right.” She didn’t want to talk about the past any longer. It was a part of her life she’d put into a sealed box and stored in a distant part of mind. That had worked until this man had walked back into her life. “But that was a very long time ago.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It was.”

He gave her no indication that he remembered what they’d shared, that night of passion in the back seat of his car. He’d probably had so many women since then that he couldn’t keep track of them all, she thought tartly. What had been a momentous occasion for her had clearly been nothing much to him.

That all-too-familiar stab of pain pierced her heart, as it had when he’d first walked into her classroom.

Get over it, she fiercely ordered herself. Keep your mind on the goal here, make things better for Blue. The pain lessened, and she gazed at him without revealing her inner turmoil.

“I’ll see you on Sunday then,” she said in a dismissive voice.

“You certainly will, ma’am,” he drawled, unfolding his lean body from the chair to give her a mocking salute before heading toward the door.

She couldn’t help herself. She stuck her tongue out at him. It was juvenile and impolite, but it sure felt good.

Until he said, “I saw that.” Not bothering to stop or turn around, he indicated the mirrorlike reflective surface of the window next to the door into her classroom. “Nice tongue,” he added before exiting.

This time she waited until he left before throwing a crumpled ball of paper after him.

Just when she thought it was safe, he popped his head around the door frame to say, “Nice toss. For a girl.”

“Nice compliment. For a marine.”

His smile indicated his appreciation for her quick comeback. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”

She’d thought so at one time. But not now, not again. Not in this lifetime.

Curt frowned at the pile of books strewn across the living-room couch. Who knew there was so much to learn about a three-year-old?

He shuddered with relief that he didn’t have to deal with the chapters marked Potty Training. He was sure that would have brought even a tough guy like him to his knees. He could have managed if Blue had been a boy. Heck, the suggestions for boys had sounded like target practice, only this time the targets had been floating Cheerios in a toilet bowl instead of enemy forces in a battlefield.

But girls were different. Different in so many ways that it was all he could do not give in to the doubts prowling around the pit of his stomach, just waiting for him to screw up as he’d done so many times as a teenager. Being in the marines had rid him of those feelings, or so he’d thought until Blue had shown up on his doorstep.

He refused to surrender to fear. Marines never surrendered. They survived. They overcame. They succeeded. Over all odds.

Or they regrouped to fight another day.

Jessie the Brain was coming here tomorrow. He tried to view the place through her eyes. It was clean. Scrupulously so. No easy feat with a kid who seemed determined to leave her toys all over the place, even stuffing things in his shoes and his briefcase.

At first he’d been pleased that she’d liked the set of small trucks he’d bought her. It wasn’t as if trucks were a girly thing. Maybe he should have gotten her dolls or stuffed animals. But she’d liked the trucks and had played with them for hours. When she wasn’t hiding them in his shoes or briefcase.

One thing was for sure, Jessie wouldn’t be able to give him any demerits on the safety front. He’d had the entire place childproofed—from the kitchen and bathroom cabinets and drawers to the electrical outlets and the pull strings on the venetian blinds covering the windows.

Of course he had yet to master the art of bypassing the kidproofing to open some of the cabinets or drawers himself, but he’d learn. Just as he’d learned how to open childproof bottles of aspirin without taking a hacksaw to them.

Who knew an apartment could hold so much danger for a curious kid? And Blue was certainly curious. He couldn’t even count the number of questions she asked him each day. How do tigers roar? Why are we people and not tigers? Why does your mouth go up when you smile? He just told her to ask her teacher.

Which led him back to Jessie again. It seemed a majority of his thoughts led him back to her. Looking down at the book on his lap, he tried to focus on the words. Play patterns. Good manners. Social graces. Yeah, right.

Turning the book over, he gazed at the title again. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Parenting a Preschooler and Toddler, Too. Was this Jessie’s way of telling him he was a complete idiot? He supposed when it came to parenting, he was. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. He was accustomed to giving orders, not taking them. Read these books. She’d issued the order like a drill sergeant.

As for this Daddy Boot Camp thing, he hoped she didn’t expect him to hop to it like some raw recruit. Because he had no intention of playing that game. A man had his pride. And a marine had ten times that much.

That was one of the reasons he loved being a marine. His fellow officers understood him. His recruits obeyed him. Rules and regulations left no wiggle room for things like taming tantrums. And a part of him still didn’t see why he couldn’t apply the marines way of doing this to this parenting deal. Discipline and order were good things. Things that needed to be learned early in life.

Maybe if his father had had a little discipline he wouldn’t have abandoned Curt when he was born. There were times he wondered about the blood he’d inherited from his unknown father. What kind of man walked away from his responsibilities that way?

A man not worthy of the name.

Which didn’t change the fact that Curt not only had no parenting experience, but he had no family-life experience. Not that there was necessarily such a thing as a normal family in today’s world of divorce and step-families. But even those families had some kind of experience of love.

Curt had no such experience. His mother had considered him to be a burden, she’d told him so often enough before the state had stepped in and put him in foster care when he was nine.

He’d never thought of being a parent himself. Absently rubbing his aching leg, he refused to be intimidated by the prospect of what might lay ahead. He’d pick up some pointers from Jessie and move on.

All he had to do was think of this as a new form of training. As a marine, he’d completed boot camp when he’d first enlisted. Since then he’d completed additional training in everything from surviving behind enemy lines to advanced infantry training schooling.

He knew that fear of the unknown was the greatest fear of all. So all he had to do was learn the tricks of this parenting thing, and he’d be home free.

During the Sunday morning drive to Curt’s apartment complex, Jessica almost turned around and headed back home about a dozen times. She had to keep reminding herself that the faster Curt learned a few parenting skills, the sooner he’d become self-sufficient and not be requiring her assistance. Not to mention that it would make things easier for little Blue if she had a father who knew how to express his love for her.

Not that Jessica was an expert on affectionate dads. Heaven knew her own father had always been a complete enigma to her. An autocratic man, he did not know the meaning of the word compromise.

Sighing, Jessica stole a quick glance in her Ford Taurus’s rearview mirror to check two things—first, if she’d nibbled off all her lipstick and second, if the left lane was clear for her to move into it. The lipstick was long gone and the traffic was solid.

Flicking her turn signal, she managed to slip in between a truck and minivan. Curt’s directions had been precise down to the mile with everything listed with military precision—turn north on Foster Avenue, proceed for 5.6 miles then turn east at next intersection. There hadn’t been any additional colorful play-by-play, like turning left at the doughnut shop on the corner. The directions were like the man himself. No-nonsense.

She wondered what had happened to the bad boy she’d known as a teenager? Had he changed that much?

Her curiosity wasn’t personal. She was merely interested in human nature, that’s all. The silent assurance made her feel less jittery as she pulled into the apartment complex’s parking lot. The pale brick building was a new one and in good shape. All the windows had screens, important for preschooler safety.

Before getting out of her car, she touched up her lipstick, a restrained mauve that drew attention to her lips without making her look made-up. The periwinkle-blue pants and matching tunic-length top she wore were casual enough to make it appear that she hadn’t dressed up for today, but fit her well enough to be a confidence booster. Her hair was gathered up and piled on top of her head, held in place with a silver hairclip given to her by a parent last year.

She’d brought a tote bag filled with materials to assist her with today’s lessons. There was no assisting her racing heart as she knocked on Curt’s door.

He yanked the door open and pulled her inside before she could say a word. She no longer had to wonder what he’d look like in a black T-shirt and jeans. That’s what he was currently wearing, and the result was simply too darn sexy for comfort.

“What took you so long?” he demanded.

She frowned at him, her gaze having traveled up his muscular body to his face. “Is that a cherry you’ve got on your chin?”

Grabbing the kitchen towel he had slung over his shoulder, he hurriedly swiped his face. “I was giving her toast, and I let her spread a little of the jam around.”

“She seems to have spread it more than a little,” she replied, trying not to laugh at the picture of what appeared to be a rattled Curt.

He glared at her. “Aren’t you supposed to teach her how to eat in school?”

“She eats just fine in school,” she solemnly assured him.

“Then teach her how to eat just fine at home.”

“Jessie, Jessie, Jessie!” Blue shrieked and came racing into the room, her hands smeared with cherry jam.

“Halt!” Curt barked. “Sit!”

“She’s not a dog,” Jessica said, her voice making it clear she disapproved of his tactics.

But they did work.

Blue stopped in her tracks and sank onto the floor.

“Hands out,” Curt ordered.

Blue obediently stuck out her messy hands.

Using the towel he had slung over his shoulder, he tried to wipe her hands. Jessica could have told him that he’d need a damp cloth to get rid of all the stickiness, but she let him find that out for himself.

“I’s not a dog. I’s a girl,” Blue declared.

“No kidding,” Curt muttered.

The little girl tilted her head to look up at her father. “Would you like me more if I was a dog?”

Jessica’s heart just about broke there and then. Kneeling on the floor beside Blue, she quickly assured her, “Oh, honey, we like you just the way you are.”

Curt hunkered down beside them, still intent on cleaning up Blue’s sticky hands and apparently blithely unaware of his daughter’s emotional needs.

Jessica gave him a discreet poke in his side, right between the ribs. Her meaningful look finally spurred him into speaking.

“Yeah right. Just the way you are,” he told Blue. “Only cleaner. Now march back into that kitchen, young lady.”

Blue almost poked his eye out as she saluted him, leaving a smear of jam on her forehead and then on his. But she showed no signs of heading for the kitchen.

“Help me out here,” Curt growled in Jessica’s direction.

“I’m just here to observe,” she replied, wanting to tell him that Blue needed his unconditional love, not a love that was dependent on her being a spotlessly clean, good girl. But it wouldn’t be appropriate now, not with Blue present.

“To observe?” he repeated in disbelief. “How useless is that?”

“If you’d rather I went home…” Jessica turned as if to leave.

“Stay.”

“I’m not a dog, either,” she replied over her shoulder, one hand on the doorknob. “So don’t try ordering me around as if I were one.”

“Please stay.”

He wasn’t happy about having to ask politely, there was no mistaking that in the taut line of his jaw. But he did it.

She sighed. “Let’s get to work.”

“Let’s play,” Blue said.

“First you need cleaning up.” Curt gingerly picked his daughter up, as if she were a package he was hauling from one room to another. He didn’t prop her against his shoulder or hold her in the crook of his arm. He simply lifted her—his hands spanning her waist, his arms outstretched—and marched her into the kitchen.

Jessica followed him. The living room only had a colonial-style couch in a beige-and-orange plaid that had either been a garage sale find or a sign that Curt was totally style-deprived. The only other piece of furniture was a large TV set. The man clearly traveled light. She wondered how long he’d been in Chicago? When he’d gotten the leg injury that caused him to limp? Why he’d made love to her and then acted like nothing had ever happened between them?

All off-limits subjects, she warned herself as she stepped into the kitchen.

Morning sunlight streamed through the large window over the sink. The cabinets were white, as were all the appliances and the countertop, which had nothing but a coffeemaker on it.

Seeing her interest, he said, “I childproofed all the cabinets so she’d be secure in this residence.”

“That’s good.” So Blue would be secure, but would she ever know what it felt like to have her father give her an affectionate bear hug? Or would she forever be taking orders barked out in a curt voice? Forever falling short of expectations set too high to ever be accomplished.

Jessica certainly knew how that felt. She didn’t want the same thing happening to Blue. Didn’t want to see the little girl’s natural exuberance drained right out of existence. Blue had already had enough tragedy in her life, what with her mother dying. What she needed now was stability, understanding and lots of love.

Jessica’s arms ached to hold the little girl, to give her the loving she needed. The only thing that held her back was the knowledge that she was already in way over her head. Besides, the bottom line was that she was merely Blue’s preschool teacher. Curt was the parent in this scenario.

Which only served to remind her of how she’d once daydreamed about what kind of father he’d be. During that pregnancy scare so long ago, she’d anticipated his reaction to hearing they’d made a baby together when they’d made love in the back seat of his Mustang. In her teenage fantasy he’d been surprised, and then he’d taken her in his arms and asked her to marry him. It wouldn’t matter that he’d just joined the marines. She’d wait for him.

How foolish she’d been. How dangerously naïve. She’d badly wanted a baby, wanted someone of her own to love. That hadn’t changed. What had changed was Jessica.

She no longer had to worry about pregnancy scares. Not after being gently told a few years back by her elderly family practitioner that she had a badly tipped uterus, so badly tipped that it was extremely doubtful she’d be able to conceive.

So she’d closed the door on one dream and focused her attention on her work teaching preschoolers, never thinking that one day she’d be teaching Curt how to deal with his own daughter.