“Nana, when did you get these refilled?”
“What, honey?”
“Your heart medication,” Ivory said as she settled behind Nana on the bed and propped up on her knees. She used the fine-toothed comb to separate her grandmother’s hair, part it, and section it off. The long strands had grown thin, but remained strong.
“Oh, Doc Grady gave it to me,” she said. “I went to see him last week. My heart’s been acting up.”
Ivory bit her lip. “Nana, you should have said something.”
Her grandmother chuckled. “Well it’s a wonder my heart has been acting up, lately. You bringing in these fine, juicy men and sure an old woman’s heart will race from time to time. Can’t dangle something in front of me I can’t have.”
Ivory swatted Nana’s shoulder lightly. “Jax and Nathan are not juicy.”
“Oh, posh. I’m old, but I ain’t old.”
Ivory smiled, rolling one of the foam things into Nana’s hair, then clipped it. “All right, so Jax is juicy. Really handsome.”
Nana leaned back slightly to let Ivory fold over the hair toward her forehead. “Well, I’ll tell you something. Either way, they’re both lucky you even give them the time of day.”
Ivory kissed Nana’s cheek. “Thanks.”
* * * *
Jax lay awake, the covers thrown off him. He’d not even slept in the nude the way he’d grown used to since Ashley needed to wake up every four hours. Jax had trained himself early in his career to work on as little as sleep as possible, but Ashley was turning out to be a whole different ball game.
He’d changed his first diaper, ending up putting it on backward before he figured out Winnie-the-Pooh went on the front and Piglet went on the back. He’d changed her twice, fed her twice, and rocked her to sleep three times since Ivory had left his place earlier that evening.
Two struck the clock, the baby slept, and he was wide awake, images of Ivory flashing through his mind, awakening his body. His cock stood at full attention no matter how many ways he tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere. Tempted to call and wake her up, Jax stared at the face of the digital alarm clock on his bedside table, the low lighting casting shadows across the room.
Next to the glowing red numbers, the baby monitor blinked green, letting him know all was quiet in Ashley’s room. Jax rubbed his eyes, then stared at the scar on the back of his hand. The glint of the knife bouncing off his night-vision goggles made him wince as the memory passed over. He could still feel the cold, harsh bite of steel as he dragged his hand away from the enemy, sheltering the precious muscles and ligaments in his trigger finger. One wrong move, and he’d given his position away. A rookie’s mistake, and his five years as Alpha Team’s second in command nearly went down the drain, along with his life.
Someone set them up to take that fall, and Jax knew their position had been given away. While Luke and the rest dealt with figuring out who the mole was, he cooled his heels. The little girl who slept two doors down would wake for her next bottle in three hours.
Jax got up and paced the length of his room. Ivory’s list said that in a week or so, he could start feeding her every six hours. He glanced at the already tired paper, the edges growing weak where he’d folded and refolded the small saving grace. Her curvy handwriting belied her take-charge attitude, revealing yet a little more of the sensual woman within.
Instead of the ripping flesh as the knife slid through his hand, a ghost sensation of her silky hair wrapped around his palm sheared away the darkness. He studied himself in the bureau mirror and felt along his abdomen with his fingertips for the rigid scar running down his left side. Over the years, the tissue had flattened out, not quite as swollen as it had been. Shrapnel injury.
Another scar on his neck. Close-hand combat with a target.
The one just beneath the sea of skeletons on his stomach, to the right of his belly button, just above his hip bone. Bullet wound. Nearly fatal. Femoral artery. Thank God Ax was a damn good field medic, or Jax would have bled out in the Afghan mountains.
Who the hell was he kidding? No kid would be safe with him. He had too many scars to count, too much blood on his hands. Jax palmed his head, squeezing on his temples to keep the faces from crowding in. “Ivory, what were you thinking leaving a kid with me?”
He turned out the light, set his alarm for the next feeding, and went into a light sleep, well trained to wake at the slightest shift in his environment. At five on the dot, Ashley’s tiny cry wailed over the speaker of the little white rectangle sitting on the stand. Jax’s eyes opened, the first morning light slipping through the blinds and creating a misty cast to the room.
He put a T-shirt on, covering the tattoos. He didn’t know if they would scare Ashley or not, and made his way down to the nursery. The closer he drew to the door, the louder her cries became. His ears rang with the ferocity of her anger, a child’s screams tantamount to torture. He picked her up, cradling her little body in the crook of his arms.
She quieted a little, but Jax realized her diaper felt heavy. He sat her down on the changing table, her little fists punching the air as she squeezed her eyes shut, letting go a piercing squeal. “Okay, we’ll fix this.”
He took out a diaper, the wipes, and baby powder.
He needed a nanny.
Once Jax got her changed and into a clean outfit, he took her down to the kitchen and fed her a bottle while he called Ivory. The woman gave him this bundle of joy, and she could help make it stop crying. She picked up on the first ring.
“So, how did the first night go?”
Jax looked down at the suddenly content child, her blue eyes ringed red from her fit. “We did okay until this morning,” he grumbled. “Get your ass over here. I haven’t slept, I’m hungry, and she’s pissed off.”
Ivory chuckled. “Let me take a shower, and I’ll be right over.”
“No shower. Better yet. Take your damn shower when you get here,” he said. “You can join me once you show me how to shut her up.”
Ivory hung up, and Jax tried bouncing the baby the way he’d seen other women do it, but it seemed to jar her head, and Jax knew enough to keep the baby’s head supported. “Sssh,” he tried, but when he gentled his voice, she got pissed off again.
He cursed women in ten different languages for making the little peeing machines, and Ashley quieted down. “Huh.”
He continued talking, speaking in Arabic to the child until Ivory rang his front door bell thirty minutes later. If he’d never seen a woman first thing in the morning, the sight of Ivory, her hair mussed, her cheeks bare of makeup, her eyes drowsy, and a steaming cup of coffee in her hands made his mouth go dry.
“So, you look like hell,” she said.
He stepped back, let Ivory in, and shut the gusts of chilly wind coming off the Atlantic Ocean out. He handed Ashley over, and Ivory snuggled the child close. “I’ve had better nights,” he said.
Ivory made herself right at home, walking into his kitchen talking gibberish to Ashley. He narrowed his eyes on her, the slight glow on her face akin to happiness. Women and children, especially female children, baffled him. He slipped out undetected and headed for the baby’s room to grab her little jumper thing that bounced while she sat in it.
Ivory had set out eggs and bacon on the counter when he returned. “You take care of her. I’ll do the breakfast,” he grunted.
Ivory settled Ashley into the bouncer and rocked it slightly while the baby sucked on a pacifier. Knowing Ivory probably hadn’t had anything to eat yet, Jax dropped double his usual number of eggs into the frying pan. He glanced over his shoulder at her.
She watched him, her brows drawn together in concentration.
“What?”
“You cook. You keep a clean house. Why aren’t you married? Anyone special?”
Jax turned back to his frying bacon, the smell permeating the kitchen. His stomach rumbled. “I don’t have time for women, kids, or marriage.”
Jax waited for her respons
e, flipping the bacon onto a paper towel before putting it on a plate, the hot food burning his palm. He turned off the eggs, scrambled to perfection. “No comment?”
He turned back to her. She’d shed her outer layer, the tight sweater she’d thrown on giving rise to the fiend in his sweatpants. Her aqua eyes went sapphire as she caught sight of his tented drawstring pants, licked her lower lip. She tore her gaze away.
“No comment. I guess it makes sense.”
Jax divvied up the scrambled eggs, then slid a plate in front of her. “Eat.”
“Fork.”
Jax winced at his lack of manners, pulled out the silverware drawer, and handed her the pronged utensil before taking the seat across from her. The baby sat in the middle of the table, like a centerpiece, her mouth slack as she dozed. “Ever been in love before?”
Jax froze at her inquiry. Had he ever been in love? “With someone other than my first high school crush? No.”
Ivory’s face went blank. “Never?”
“No.”
Ivory sighed, pushing away her half-eaten eggs. “So, you just tally up women like kills?”
The dig hurt. He grimaced, the eggs turning to a ball of lead in his stomach. “I don’t have time for women,” he said. “I have . . . a few friends I see when I’m on leave.”
Ivory grinned. “A few friends? Does that mean I’m just another woman in port?”
Jax smiled and took another bite of food. “I’m not a marine or a sailor.”
Ashley fussed, then fell right back to sleep. They both watched her carefully until they were sure she’d truly gone back to napping. He stood, collecting her plate and his, and dumped the food into the trashcan beneath the sink.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Jax carefully picked up the sleeping baby and carried her upstairs. Ivory followed in his footsteps. When he set the bouncer down just outside the master bathroom door, Ivory hesitated. Jax turned to her. “You coming?”
He took his T-shirt off, the sweat pants following. He turned on the dual shower heads, adjusted the water temperature so the falling spray didn’t scorch his skin, or hers. He stepped in, and the twin jets splashed water over his shoulders, down his chest. The water swirling behind him massaged the sore muscles in his back. After a long night awake, his neck muscles felt like they’d snap if he turned his head too quickly.
The shower did slide open and Jax braced one hand against the slick tile. He hung his head, Ivory’s dainty crimson toes coming into his line of vision. He felt her hands slide around his back, then lock on his stomach. At her easy touch, Jax sucked in a breath as her fingers circled his naval, trailing the line of hair that blended in with the black of his tattoos.
“You should have stayed last night. I might have got some sleep.”
He felt her lips press against his back, her tongue dart out along his spine. He arched his back in reaction, his hips thrusting forward, his cock straining upward to greet her questing fingers. She teased him, not quite touching the aching member.
When he had enough of her long, slow touches, he took her palm, wrapped it firmly around the thick base. He turned around, her hand slowly squeezing the heated flesh, causing a ripple of veins to stand out at her persistent handling. Jax lowered his mouth to hers in a sultry clash, the steam rising around them, the salty taste of sweat and skin mixing as they locked into each other. She bit his lip, and Jax tasted his own blood.
He gripped the wet strands of her hair in his fist, jerked her head back until the long, slender column of her neck became exposed to his mouth, using his teeth to drag down the pulse points. She quivered against him, and he lifted her and braced her against the tile. Her taut nipples, the hard little points begging for his attention, grazed his chest.
He looked down at her, the liquid pools of her eyes swirling with desire, blue flames behind the black fringe of her lashes. If he’d ever saw a more beautiful sight, he couldn’t remember. The black of her hair against the paleness of her skin, her cherry-red lips and tight little curves, the bulge of her small biceps and flat lines of her abdomen.
He gripped her slender thighs, lowering her to the floor. “Not in here,” he growled.
Her breasts rose and fell rapidly. Her flushed cheeks were blushed and dewy, the spiky tips of her hair flirting with the top of her dusky nipples. Jax grabbed the bar of soap from the holder. He lathered his hands with soap. “First we wash.”
A smile dimpled her cheeks. “You sure do like giving orders, Captain.”
Jax cocked his head as he soaped her breasts. His palms slid effortlessly over the smooth, wet flesh. Bubbles trailed down her stomach, dipped into her belly button. He turned her around and moved her hair out of the way.
“Do you always wash your conquests?”
Jax smacked her pretty little ass for the smart retort, and her little yelp of surprise rang in his ears. “If you don’t behave, Ivory, I won’t give you what you want.”
She pressed back against his chest, raising her eyes to his. “Maybe you don’t know what I want.”
Jax slid a palm over her stomach, down across her pelvis, slid his fingers back, rasping over her clit. Despite her show of determination against his assault, she let out a whimper. “You want me inside of you. Don’t you?”
* * * *
Ivory took reign of her suddenly out of control libido. He smacked her ass! And God help her, she liked it. His fingers traveled south, slid inside her, and crooked against the sensitive dime-sized nerve bundle, which ripped a betrayal from her mouth. When he released her, she didn’t know if she was thankful for the reprieve or angry for his shut down.
Her butt cheek still stung, and she imagined a palm print resided on her rear, but when she felt his hands sliding over the heated flesh, she sighed. She let him wash her, his much larger hands massaging and working on erotic areas of her body she didn’t know existed. How could she have figured out the area just above her buttocks became so stimulated during arousal. In turn, she took the bar of soap from his hands, ran her fingers through the mass of hair at the juncture of his thighs, her touch too gentle to really give him any satisfaction. He shut the water off, grabbing a towel from the wrack after rinsing the soap of his body. “Baby’s awake.”
Ivory blinked, the lusty haze filling her vision clearing with the dissipating steam. “What?”
Jax tossed her a towel. “The baby is awake,” he said, wrapping a fluffy white terry cloth towel around his waist and securing it. He looked like a Gaelic warrior god, with his dark hair and green eyes, outrageous tattoos, and wicked scars. She felt more moisture rush from her core.
She toweled off, then secured the towel around her breasts. When she went to get her bag, she realized she’d forgotten it in the downstair’s foyer. Jax already rushed down the stairs to retrieve it, and her phone.
“You’ve got a missed call from Nathan.”
His voice held condemnation in his tone. Ivory frowned at the missed call flashing on the screen. “I don’t know why he’d be calling at seven in the morning.”
“I thought we discussed this, Ivory,” he said, dropping her bag loud enough to disturb Ashley a few feet away. Ivory rushed over and scooped the baby up in her arms before she started crying. “He called, Jax. It’s not like I’m sleeping with him.”
With jerky movements, Jax took out a clean pair of jeans and sweat shirt, the faded logo of the Celtics sprawled across the massive chest. “No guys, Ivory. Exclusive rights. Mine.”
Ivory’s throat filled with disgust and anger at his harsh, cave-man tone. “You’re insufferable.”
Ashley cooed in her arms, a giggle escaping her small lips. Ivory’s anger evaporated at the child’s amusement. “You find that funny, huh?” She bounced her. “You like it when I yell at your Uncle Jax?”
Ashley’s eyes crinkled as she giggled again, this time slobber escaping her mouth. She worked her lips, as though she were trying to say something. Ivory let her head fall against Ashley’s, her wet ha
ir hanging in her face just enough for Ashley to get a good grasp on the strands. She yanked.
Ivory made a face as she tried to wrench her hair from the tiny fists. Jax opened the bathroom door and held his hands out. “Give her here and get dressed.”
Ivory glared at him. “Stop telling me what to do.”
Jax’s jaw worked as he turned away, still mad over Nathan’s call. Ivory brushed through her hair with the comb she’d hastily stuck in her bag that morning. She’d forgotten a bra, but the sweater she chose to bring would hide the fact and her jeans weren’t her favorite, but somebody told her holey jeans were in style again. She dabbed a bit of makeup on, brushed her eyelashes with mascara, tinted the lids a bronze color. When she emerged, Jax lay on his bed, Ashley rolling from side to side next to him.
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