He turned and looked down at her. In her snug jeans and a scoop-necked T-shirt that hugged every curve, she almost made him forget that he wanted to know why she’d waited so long to tell him she was pregnant. If he’d found out sooner, would it have changed things? That’s something he would never know.

“About the letter,” he said.

“We hardly knew each other, Joe. You made it clear you didn’t want to be tied down. And why would you believe I wasn’t trying to trap you?”

“Before I get blamed for something, shouldn’t I get a chance to screw up first?”

“And didn’t I have a right to know that you only wanted sex? Somehow I missed the signs.” Her eyes flashed a color that was new to him. “For the record, I don’t blame you. No one held a gun to my head.”

That’s for sure. She’d been warm and willing in his arms. And he’d wanted her more every time he saw her. Even after all this time, he still wanted her. “I was there. I’m back now.” Maybe he was the one blaming her when she hadn’t screwed up.

But he’d been fooled once and that was enough. Maybe the experience had fine-tuned his cheater meter, because he believed her. “He’s my son, too.”

In a split second, the expression on her face went from woman scorned to mother lion. “Since when? You made it clear that you didn’t want to participate when you didn’t write back.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t write back because I couldn’t.”

“Oh? Your arms were broken?” She sighed and shook her head. “That was a cheap shot. Look, Joe, the fact is I don’t want or need anything from you. I felt obligated to let you know about the baby. You didn’t—couldn’t write back. End of story.”

“Not so fast. I’m here now.” He’d have been here sooner if not for mission debriefing, medical clearance and military retirement paperwork. And this conversation wasn’t one he’d wanted to have over the phone. Or in front of her neighbors. Or, apparently, sitting down on the sofa. He met her accusing gaze. “There is an explanation. And I’d like you to hear me out.”

“Okay.” She folded her arms over her breasts and stared him straight in the eye.

“The letter arrived just as I was getting ready for a mission and I was going to answer it when I got back.”

“I see.”

“The thing is—it took me some time to get back.”

“What?” There was a wary look in her eyes. “Why?”

“My helicopter was shot down and the Taliban extended their hospitality for a while.”

And that was all she needed to know, all he would tell her.

Her eyes went from dark brown back to warm cocoa as she put her hand on his arm. “Joe—”

The touch of her fingers felt too good and he backed up a step. “I got in a little while ago and came straight from McCarran.”

That was important for her to know.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said.

“Tell me about my son.”

A smile curved up the corners of her mouth. “He’s perfect, the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“What’s his—what did you name him?”

She walked over to the end table beside the sofa and picked up a framed photo, then handed it to him. “J.T.”

As Joe stared at the chubby-faced infant in the picture something inside him went tight and his heart skipped. The baby’s eyes were big, blue like his own, but he had his mother’s dimples. “What does J.T. stand for?”

She hesitated a moment, then said, “Joseph Turner—that was my grandfather’s name.”

He slid his gaze to hers and grinned. “Has a nice ring.”

“I thought so.” She shrugged.

“He’s about four months old?”

She nodded and his gaze lowered to Kate’s now-flat abdomen. He wondered what she’d looked like pregnant. “Can I see him?”

“He’s asleep,” she said quickly, protectively.

“I just want to see him.”

She thought about that for too long and frowned while she was at it. Finally, she nodded. “This way.”

He followed her into the baby’s room. A night-light kept it from being too dark and he could see the crib, some kind of box overflowing with toys and a changing table. There were stuffed animals everywhere. Slowly, he walked over and stared down at the child, peacefully sleeping on his back. His small mouth pursed and worked in a sucking movement, then a little sigh escaped. His chest had felt tight many times before, but this was a sensation he’d never before experienced.

Joe reached out a finger and touched one tiny fist. He had to clear the lump in his throat before he could state the obvious, “He’s so little.”