LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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