Tears stung Emma’s eyes.
“Please don’t think me any crazier than I’m sure you already do, but Em, I want you to move in with me and the girls. We can take it slow at first—if that’s what you want, but bottom line, we could try being an official family.”
Swallowing hard, she was having a hard time believing all this was true.
“Well?” he asked, smoothing his hands along her upper arms.
Grinning up at him, Emma leapt off the emotional high dive. “Help me gather my things?”
“THAT’S THE last of it,” Jace said late Sunday afternoon, cramming the final box into Emma’s station wagon. The wind had picked up, putting the churning, crashing Gulf in quite a mood. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yep. But not about this,” she said, holding up a macramé plant hanger. “Like it or loathe it?”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it in the loathing category, but I can’t say I want it in my living room.”
Laughing, she hung it from a nail poking out of the deck rail. “We’ll leave it as a gift for the new tenants.”
“How annoying are they?” Jace asked, nodding toward the girls who were lounging in their portable playpen in the shady area beneath the raised house. Bronwyn was gumming a rubber chew toy while Bea cooed at air. “Lazy is what you two are,” he teased, tickling their stomachs. “If you’re this bad now, what am I going to do with you when you’re teens?”
“Love them even more,” Em said, plucking Bea into her arms for a quick nose rub.
“You look beautiful holding her in your arms.”
“Thank you,” Em said, smiling all the more.
“So your landlord was cool with you moving out?”
“Yes, sir. He’s got a waiting list of vacationers.”
Hand to his forehead, shading his eyes from the sun, he said, “I still don’t see why you’d want to give up a place like this. It’s amazing.”
“You ever heard the expression, home is where the heart is?”
“Sure, but—” he froze when she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him shyly.
“Since meeting you and the girls, this no longer feels like home.”
Easing his hands around her waist, he hugged her. Granola was a fool for thinking he and Em wouldn’t work out.
“This is going to sound crazy,” he said, breathing in the scent of her floral shampoo, “But remember how when we first met, I was pretty much consumed with finding Vicki?”
She nodded.
“Now, as perfect as everything seems to be, I’m afraid we’ll find her.”
Backing away from him to gather teething rings and rattles and a stuffed frog from the playpen, she asked, “Can’t you fire the PI?”
“Sure,” he said, lifting Bea into his arms, “but what’s to stop Vicki from showing up at the base?”
“Good point. But even if she does, you won’t let her take the twins, right?” When he failed to answer, mouth dry, she repeated, “Right?”
THE LAST TIME Emma had shared a bed had been with Rick, which was undoubtedly why she was positioned ramrod straight on the edge of Jace’s king-size mattress. Though the central air hummed, she felt hot all over, as though she’d spent hours in the sun. Her pulse was erratic and she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, which must be why she’d folded them coffin-style over her stomach.
“You okay?” Jace asked.
“Sure.”
“Then how come you’re all the way over there?” In the dark, his familiar voice shone like a beacon, reminding her that she’d wanted this. She’d craved being closer to him in every sense of the word.
“Truthfully,” she whispered, “and I know this’ll sound stupid, but I’m a little scared.”
“Scared?”
He moved across the bed to her. Lying on his side, stroking her hair, he said, “Sweetie, what in the world would be scaring you?”
Maybe the way she’d fallen for Jace and his babies so fast. Maybe the fact that she was terrified none of what she was feeling was real, but a dream from which she’d wake any minute.
“Em,” he probed, tracing his finger along her cheek, “talk to me.”
“I’m sorry, you know how much you and the girls mean to me, but are we jumping into this? You and me?”
“Hell, yeah,” he said, urging her alongside him so that they could spoon. “And seeing how amazing holding you like this feels, I fail to see the problem. Yes, I fell for you like a rock, but these things happen all the time in movies. Why not in our lives?”
With Jace’s warmth at her back, his words in her head, Emma’s racing pulse stilled, as did her mind. He was right, the two of them—correction, four of them—worked.
“I love you,” she said so softly that she doubted Jace had even heard.
“I love you, too.”
“A LITTLE MORE paint on the wall, instead of the drop cloth, please.” Hands on her hips, Emma scowled at Jace’s shock-and-awe painting technique. Even though it was only ten on Saturday morning, directing him already had her exhausted. “Or, using language you might better understand, we’re coating the wall. Not attacking it.”
“Ha-ha,” he said, using an over-the-shoulder backward motion that splattered pink paint past the tape she’d so carefully applied around the window trim. “But for me, this is an attack, seeing how the sooner I get it over with, the sooner I put my rear in a recliner to watch the ball game.”
“I thought we were going to Pam and Granola’s for pizza and a movie?” Since Pam had offered to take the girls for the day, Emma planned to return the favor with dinner and entertainment. Not only would the paint fumes be bad for baby lungs, but supervising two active munchkins while trying to paint wouldn’t have been all that effective.
“You can, but count me out.”
“You’re not still feuding with Granola, are you?”
“After what he said about you? Trashing your character. Hell, yeah, I’m still mad at him.”
“You shouldn’t be. I applaud him for being concerned about you. Only a true friend tells you the truth whether you want to hear it or not.”
Uncharacteristically focused on his painting, Jace’s only answer was a grunt.
To say Emma felt horrible about the rift between the two men would be a huge understatement. In a way, when they’d first met, she had been using Jace to be close to his twins. She wasn’t proud of the fact, but in her heart knew it to be true. Now, however, with every new day, Jace had grown to be an integral part of her life. They worked together, played together, talked on a level she and Rick never had.
“Jace…” Resting her brush on the paint can’s lip, she took a deep breath before saying, “In a way, Granola was right. I did give up what most people would think is a far better career than babysitting. But—for me, anyway—I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing. Caring for Bea and Bronwyn is an escape for me.” From the demons that’d tormented her.
“In fairness to my pal, I guess that’s his point. What are you escaping from?”
Was now the time to come clean? Tell him the whole truth about why she’d run away from everyone and everything she’d ever known? She opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue was thick. Dry—as if she’d licked a paper towel. Her pulse raced to an uncomfortable degree.
While her heart might be saying, yes, now’s the time to tell Jace everything about your past, the rest of her body said, no way. Her pain was still too raw. Too real.
“Em?” Jace prompted. “Escape? Ring any bells?”
Tell him everything, her heart urged.
Palms sweating, she asked, “Don’t you think escaping the proverbial rat race is reason enough?”
JACE HAD WANTED to spend Saturday night at Pam and Granola’s about as much as he’d want a freakin’ flock of geese flying into his helicopter’s rotors. Yet, here he was, standing on their front porch, a stack of pizzas in one hand, a twelve-pack of brew in the other.
“You all right?” Emma asked before ringing t
he bell.
“No. You owe me for this.”
“Trust me, you’ll feel better once you and Granola patch things up.”
Jace cringed. Guys didn’t “patch things up.” They either made them solid again or moved on. End of story. He and Granola had been tight a long time, but if he didn’t lay off Em, Jace had no problem cutting him out of his life.
Ten minutes later, while the women oohed and cooed over the twins, and Granola’s golden retriever, Benji, barked himself hoarse in the backyard, Jace nodded to Granola who stood in the living room’s shadows, hands shoved into his jeans pockets.
After setting the pizzas on the coffee table, he handed Granola a cold beer. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” Jace shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts. “Your place smells like peaches.”
“Last weekend, Pam got a little freaky at that outlet candle store over in Gulf Shores.”
Nodding, Jace said, “Never been.”
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Granola said, “Pam told me I have to apologize for not trusting your pick in women.”
Clearing his throat, Jace said, “An apology would be appreciated.”
“Sorry. I worry about you, man. I care.”
“We’re cool.” Upon finishing off his own beer, Jace added, “For the record, some of what you said hit home. In a roundabout way, I asked Em why the hell she’d give up six figures a year to babysit.”
“And…” Granola prompted.
“Said she was sick of the rat race.”
“Guess that’s plausible.” Granola finished his beer, as well. “You happy with her answer?”
“Sure.”
“Want another?” Granola asked, nodding toward his empty can.
“Depends. You still got that old TV out in the garage so we aren’t stuck watching the chick flick Emma brought?”
“LOOKS LIKE your cooking’s a hit,” Emma said the next morning, watching the twins dig into Jace’s delicious French toast.
Bronwyn apparently liked it so much that she ignored her spoon in favor of grabbing the gooey bread, then shoving it into her mouth.
Bea was quick to follow.
“Look at them,” Emma said to Jace, who was fixing himself a plate. “Aren’t they sweet?”
“And they’ve both got sticky hair.”
“Sorry,” Emma said, though as cute as the girls looked wearing syrupy grins, she wasn’t the least bit apologetic. “I’ll clean them up.”
“You sure will,” Jace quipped.
Thirty minutes later, both grown-ups manned the tub while Bea and Bronwyn kicked and splashed in their pink plastic bath chairs. Had someone told Emma a couple of months earlier that she’d soon be given an entirely new life, she wouldn’t have believed them. Now, five times a day she fought the urge to pinch herself.
Dressing and diapering the girls, Jace said, “I meant to tell you this last night, but we got home too late.”
“Tell me what?” She slipped a pink T-shirt over Bea’s downy head.
“Thanks for what you said about Granola.”
“You mean about you two kissing and making up?” Emma sweetly smiled.
Jace growled. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do, and I’m glad you worked it out. What made you change your mind about forgiving him?”
Fastening the snaps on Bea’s baby jeans, he said, “I’d hardly call our conversation forgiveness-worthy. It was more like I got where he was coming from and vice versa.”
“That’s what I’m getting at,” Emma said, setting Bronwyn in her crib. “What did you say to make him see where you were coming from?” More to the point, did Granola still suspect her of not having Jace’s best interests at heart?
“I told him what you told me. The whole rat race thing.”
“A-and he was okay with that?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Jace tucked in Bea.
“No reason.” Emma’s old symptoms came rushing back. Sweating palms. Pounding pulse. Dry mouth. But why? What she felt for Jace was every bit as real as her affection for the twins. So what was up with her still being nervous about him knowing her whole history?
“Oh, hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something I know you’ll be opposed to as much as me.”
“What?” With the girls falling asleep together, Emma tiptoed out of the nursery.
The phone rang.
“Let me get that, and then I’ll explain.” He picked up on the third ring. “Hello?” After a few moments’ silence, he slammed down the phone, grumbling, “Another damned hang-up.”
“Relax,” she urged, rubbing his back. “What were you going to ask?”
Still scowling, he said, “My CO’s wife puts this big Fourth of July thing together every year, and seeing how I now have a family, she wants me to participate.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “I don’t understand.”
In the kitchen, Jace grabbed a Coke from the fridge. “First thing we learned in officer candidate school wasn’t about flight training or combat strategy, but that when the CO’s wife talks, you listen.”
“So? What did she say?”
“Basically that I, you and the kiddos have to be decked out in red, white and blue for the annual Fourth of July parade and picnic. That day also starts the base’s three-day open house.”
“Sounds fun. What’s the problem?”
“Problem?” He laughed, then dropped onto the sofa. “Today’s the twenty-eighth, meaning we only have five full days to decorate ourselves and the stroller. Not to mention the fact that once this feat is accomplished I’ll look like a second-rate Vegas act.”
“Can’t you wear your uniform? That’s patriotic.”
“True, but according to the CO’s wife, red, white and blue sequins promote a more festive atmosphere.”
“Hmm…” She smiled at the image of Jace dressed in his patriotic best. “Tell you what, I happen to be pretty handy with a sewing machine, so how about I make something matchy and sparkly for the girls and myself. Then, you, Mr. Monroe, can just carry a flag to match your jeans and white T-shirt.”
“Seriously? You think you can pull all of that off by the Fourth?”
“Sure—only I’ll need your help with the stroller.”
“Done. Let’s seal the deal.” Before she could say anything else, he’d drawn her onto his lap. “Do you have any idea how much you mean to me?”
She shook her head.
He kissed her gently, yet thoroughly, exploring every nuance of her mouth before moving on to her closed eyelids and cheeks and the tip of her nose. “I love you.”
“I—I love you, too, but—”
“No more worries, sweetheart. Only fun.” Grinning, he nuzzled her neck, “You smell good. Like syrup and baby lotion and shampoo.”
Most women in her position probably would’ve playfully squealed for him to stop, then settled into a nice, long make-out session. But after what Emma had been through, she was no longer most women. She was profoundly grateful for everything life now offered, which was why her throat knotted and eyes stung with unshed tears.
Love was an amazing gift, and only now did she realize how much she, in return, not only loved Jace, but trusted him never to hurt her.
Chapter Twelve
“So this is the famous Emma I’ve heard so much about.” Margaret Harris, the fashionista wife of Jace’s CO, held out both of her hands, clutching Emma’s. “You’re so pretty. Definitely my vote for most patriotic attire. And these must be the twins…” Crouching alongside the festooned stroller, Margaret tickled the babies while crooning, “Aren’t you cute? Yes, you are.” Rising—no small feat in light of her red, white and blue sequined jumpsuit—she said in her grown-up voice, “My husband’s got his eye on you, Jace. He says you’re a good boy, and after meeting your adorable family, I agree. In fact—”
“There you are.” The big man himself, looking cranky and hot in star-spangled Bermud
a shorts and a red golf shirt, tapped the face of his watch. “We’re meeting Dick and Georgina in twenty minutes.”
“Nice to meet you,” Margaret said with a wave. “Have fun!”
Jace groaned. “Thanks, Em, for playing along. That couldn’t have been more awkward.”
Emma said, “Not that I actually said or did anything, but you’re welcome. I thought she was nice. And the base looks beautiful.”
Jace couldn’t disagree. Much like Olive’s historic district, the base’s administrative offices lined a short stretch of original brick streets. The buildings’ Southern-style facades had been festooned with red-white-and-blue bunting and hundreds of helium balloons. Thinking of how many poor new recruits had slaved over the idyllic scene made Jace’s head hurt.
At the end of Office Row, as the area was called, was a park much like the one near the house, only larger, with white-columned picnic pavilions and a glassy, cypress-lined lake. Every so often, an alligator was spotted in the lake, freaking out the kids who played along the manicured shore.
Jace said, “Margaret was only nice because we all look ridiculous—just like she wanted.” When Emma frowned, he backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it like that. You and the girls look great. I can’t believe you made all three dresses—and hats—so quickly.”
Shrugging off his compliment, she said, “You know what they say desperate times call for.”
“Seriously,” he kissed her forehead. “Bless you. If I land an early promotion from this, you’re getting a raise.”
“Really?” she teased. “Like how much are we talking? A dollar an hour?”
Hugging her, probably delirious from the heat and the spicy-sexy smell of her perfume, he said, “I know this is sudden, but I was thinking more along the lines of an engagement ring.”
EMMA COULDN’T be certain—especially since she was still upright—but she was pretty sure her heart had stopped. “W-was that a proposal?”
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