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won’t need here. Stuff like that.” A hint of a smile
edged up his face. “Help yourself, Maeve. Don’t want you to feel nosy or
something.”
    She glanced at him. “I’m not nosy. Just
curious. What do you have desert cammies for? Thought you said you were on subs
most the time.”
    “When the war broke out, I volunteered
for a tour in Afghanistan after my first sub tour. The forces were pretty
depleted and tired. Chief of Naval Operations asked the Navy to help fill in
where the Army and Marine Corps were short.”
    She moved onto another box, spotting
stacks of papers and files. “Why don’t you unpack all this? You’ve been here almost
two years, for Pete’s sake.”
    “Waste of time to unpack the stuff I’m not
going to use anyway. It will just get re-packed when I PCS again.” He set down the
white box he was carrying on the console table.
    “PCS?”
    “Move. It’s what we call a military move.
Permanent Change of Station. But there’s nothing permanent about it. That’s why
lots of us just don’t even bother unpacking everything.”
    “But that’s terrible. This is your home. You
should make it a place that welcomes you each night after work. Next time you
get a place, I’m going to decorate it for you. You really need help.” Leaning
over, she gently flipped through a group of frames leaning against the wall.
“You’ve got good stuff to work with, though. What is all this?”
    “Awards, mostly. They give you something
framed just about every time you leave a job. Signed photos, plaques, stuff like
that.”
    “You should have all this displayed.”
    Jack shrugged as he went to a small
college-style fridge and grabbed a Sam Adams. “Want something to drink?”
    “No. The lemonade was enough. I needed
it. Got hot out there waiting for you.”
    “I was on time.”
    “Yeah. I was early. Great view to look
for jobs online though.”
    Slumping his broad stature slightly—a
rare sight—he said, “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
    “Do what?”
    “Look for a job working for someone else.
You have too much talent to not have your own name on the door.”
    “I need a guaranteed income. I may have
inherited my house free-and-clear from Gram, but I still have expenses.”
    “You’ve got rental income.”
    “From Lacey, yeah. But she’s leaving in a
couple months. And I told Bess to stop paying rent and put it towards tuition.”
    Cocking his head, Jack raised his
eyebrows.
    “Don’t look at me like that. She’s practically
family, you know? You’d do the same. It won’t be forever. She’s got only a few
more classes before she graduates. And then she can stop cleaning houses for a
living. It’s selfish really. I just can’t stand her walking into the house
reeking of Ajax.” She smiled.
    Jack pressed his lips together
thoughtfully. “Could you charge more for Lacey’s room when you find a new
renter?”
    Maeve sank into the couch, nearly wincing
at the sound of pleather rubbing against her cotton skirt. Pleather, and
probably a Craig’s List acquisition found curbside. God, this man needed help. “I
could. But I’m not sure where I’m going to find a renter who I’ll trust in the
house with Abigail.” Having a baby in the house really raised the stakes on
security in Maeve’s mind.
    Jack sat beside her. “I hadn’t thought of
that.” He rubbed his five o’clock shadow. “Look. I have money. Like I told you,
I’m a saver. No strings attached, Maeve.”
    Maeve just stared, lost in his green eyes
and hard-to-comprehend earnestness.
    “I could help with the start-up costs. Get
you a website. Maybe some advertising in that free magazine you see all over
Annapolis.” Sitting next to her, his hand touched her leg innocently. “It’s
like you said about Bess. You’re like family. I want to help.”
    She was torn between crying from his
sincerity and laughing from the sheer irony of what he had said. Family? If Jack was just family, why were her panties growing moist