Page 31 of Broken SEAL'S Secret Baby
Maybe I should start planning for my daughter’s college education. She seems to have a firm grasp on her priorities.
I open my laptop and access my email. It is very quiet in the office. Mr. Fluffy settles down for a nap, Gidget yipssoftly in her sleep. Since she’s never seen a rabbit, I wonder what she is dreaming about.
Cece’s crayon makes soft shhh sounds across the coarse paper of the coloring book. Kate’s pen flows soundlessly across her journal page. I catch myself watching the neat script unfolding in fluid lines.
Kate looks up and catches me looking at her. Her hazel eyes are wide and startled. In my mind, I scoop her up in my arms and carry her down the hall to my bedroom, where I would peel away that intriguing white shirt, run my hands down those slim hips, sliding down her shorts, exploring . . .
A boom of thunder shakes the penthouse. “Good thing we all came inside,” she says.
“It would seem you are right,” I answer her, as rain begins pounding the window. Then I try my very hardest to read a report about commodities and NASDAQ. But what I really want to know is how her round, firm buttock would feel in my hand as I press her to me.
I can imagine walking around the two desks between, pulling her up out of her chair. I would wrap one arm about her to bring us into full-frontal body contact. I would feel her small breasts pressed against me; she would feel the length of my manhood pressing against her as I cupped her so-feminine backside in my hand. Cece would happily go nap with her pets, and we would go down to my room . . .
But of course, none of those things happen. Nor will they. She is my best friend’s baby sister, and I need to at least act like a gentleman. It is going to be a very long day.
Chapter thirteen
Kate
I look up from my journal to see Charles staring at me hungrily across the desk.If he’d had super powers, his gaze would be sizzling the air with the intensity of his thoughts. I’d read about men undressing women with their eyes, but I’d never expected to feel as if that were happening to me.
Thunder booms outside. I make an inane remark about the weather. Charles drops his eyes back to his laptop. A flush is creeping up his neck, turning his ears and cheeks, even his forehead a nearly brilliant red. I swallow my giggles. It wouldn’t do to laugh at him.
Rain hits the windows, cascading down in sheets. Cece puts down her crayon, comes over and creeps up into my lap. Mr. Fluffy jumps away from the window, comes over and curls up on Cece, then Gidget belly-crawls over and plasters herself against my knees.
There is a flash of light that seems to be almost outside the window, and thunder rattles the entire building.Suddenly, it does not seem nearly as safe, perched up here more than two miles above the earth.
“Getting a little wild out there,” Charles says calmly. Just as he goes over to pull the curtains to hide the storm outside, both our laptops start to blare storm warnings, and sirens start up outside.
“Tornado!” I gasp. Kansas born, it is my worst fear.
“We should be well above it,” Charles states calmly, as if such things happened every day. “Tornadoes rarely form more than two miles above the earth, and we are far higher up than that. But if it really worries you, we can move into the safe room at the central core of the apartment—just in case something blows up high enough to break through the windows.”
Cece brightens at that, even though she still clings to my neck. “I can go play in my fort?” she asks.
The sirens continue to warble, even though Charles and I simultaneously close our laptops to end the noise in the room. Far below, something crashes. My breath catches in my throat, and I have to fight the instinct to tighten my grip on Cece.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Charles says.
“What about the other people in the building?” I ask.
“Safe rooms every two floors. This place is built to withstand hurricane force winds, fire, and even some bombs. Em had a family who helped with the aftermath of 9/11. She was adamant that nothing like that should happen to our building.”
Just the thought of that makes me clutch Cece tighter. I’d read the accounts and seen videos.
“Relax,” Charles teases, although I thought his nonchalance might be a little strained. “The building alarm hasn’t gone off, just the ones out in the city, so we have a minute ortwo. Hop down, Cece, and get your go bag and your coloring book if you want it. Let’s take your laptop and books, Kate.”
Cece hops and I quickly bundle my things together. Charles gets his laptop and a huge bundle of keys, and key cards.
Without further ado, all of us, pets included, troop out into the hall and through a door next to my bedroom.
It leads down a spiral staircase to what looks almost like a vault door. Charles uses one of the keycards on the door and ushers everyone inside.
He has just closed the door and secured the latch when the building reverberates and everything goes still and black. “I’m scared,” Cece whimpers. If I was honest, I wanted to whimper, too.
“Just stand still,” Charles says, reassuringly. “The emergency power will kick in. Count with me. One, two…” Cece obediently counts with her father. Before they reach ten, the lights flicker and come on; fans start up.
“That’s the basement emergency generators,” he says.
