Perfectly content in a state of deep unconsciousness, her entrance into his dark bedroom could have only been adequately described as feeling like an impressive kamikaze aerial attack during the Second World War. The element of surprise had certainly been in her favor because of his bear-like tendencies, especially when a giggling girl leapt onto his stomach. Grunting in shock when her feet dug deep into the flesh of his stomach, he was convinced that had been the atomic bomb, but it got worse. Her shriek of excitement sounded like an alarm for the aerial raid that had already descended upon him, leaving him no time to duck underneath the nearest desk, and her flying of limbs were little explosions over his encampment. Fighting his damnedest beneath the sheets, he found himself entangled in the deepest and thickest foliage, trapped in a clever ground attack of the dreaded tickle tortures.
“PJ!” Nick Carter grunted in disbelief, seizing up the squirming bundle when he finally managed to free his hands from beneath the mountain of blankets. Staring at her wide-eyed expression of pure innocence, he reminded himself to keep a firm hold of her torso from beneath her arms. She was a sly adversary, especially with her irresistible adorableness. So, slowly shifting from beneath the warmth of his bed, he raised up from bed like Dracula from his favorite coffin, keeping his attacker subdued.
“Morning’ Daddy,” the little girl cooed, puckering her lips to offer a loving kiss that would cure Satan of his evil. But, when he kept her at an arm’s length in attempts to hold firm to his annoyance, she fussed with disbelief. Her rosebud lips pursed with her own annoyance, attempting to connect her feet with his chest. “Daddy!”
“You could have killed me, PJ!” he exclaimed, wanting to make a point that he was not to be roused from such a deep state of sleep. Of course… He had made that claim several times before this and she had never listened. But, then again, he had always caved beneath her kisses. After all, he could never deny her as his flesh and blood, neither physically nor spiritually. He loved her far too much and she had seemed to inherit every genetic feature of him.
“Not-uh!”
“You popped my spleen!”
“You didn’t le’me kiss it be’dder!”
“My heart nearly stopped when you screamed like a Banshee from Hell!”
Screwing up her face in disgust, she retorted, “I ain’t Aunt Leighanne!”
Immediately chuckling in amusement at her clever quip, Nick finally brought his daughter into a warm embrace of welcome. Her petite form fit so perfectly within his arms, still small enough to sprawl over his chest comfortably, but big enough for him to feel comfortable drifting asleep in such a position without fear of losing her. Making sure to blow a wet raspberry upon her cheek, he reveled in the giggle of delight that it brought forth before she yawned against his shoulder. Reaching out for the blankets he had ripped away for defensive measures, he laid back upon the mattress, helping her snuggle close before hiding them in their favorite place. Feeling her tiny fingers curl within his t-shirt, he thanked God for allowing him the chance to raise a daughter as bright and charming as his PJ.
After all, today was a day to celebrate and recognize what a difference PJ had made in his life. In fact, exactly four years ago, he had held his daughter, Charlotte, in his arms for the first time. She had been born in the early morning, which had convinced him she would be an early riser her entire life, but it didn’t matter. Whether it had been late in the night or early in the day, he had still marveled at the amount of pride he felt that day. Holding all five pounds of her, he had never felt such a powerful strength nor such an overwhelming fear within him before. But, he had promised her the world and refused to break it. She deserved that much, if not more.
She deserved the world because Charlotte Loraine Carter – though he called her PJ, which was short for Precious Jewel – was the rarest of all beauties in this world. She was small for her age, but that simply made her far more loveable. Her lips were plump and almost irresistible when puckered into a pout. Her beautiful thick locks had grown considerably since she was born and Nick hadn’t the heart to have them trimmed. Something about cutting a woman’s hair seemed so sinful. Instead, he had allowed her flaxen locks to grow down to her waist and was fascinated with how the light golden highlights glistened in the California sunlight. And those beautiful baby-blues. She had inherited the deep sapphire irises of her father. A gorgeous child. She had been the envy of the nursery and now she was the pride and joy of the ‘celebrity-baby-mania’ phenomena.
“What are you thinking, Daddy?” PJ suddenly inquired when Nick drifted into the memories that had led him to this particular point. Some cherished. Some regretted. And others far too painful to dwell upon. Despite her intelligence, PJ couldn’t even begin to understand the contemplative streak that had befallen him on her birthday, but it wasn’t her place to. As usual, she had drawn him from his soured mood, lifting his spirits with a simple smile.
“I’m thinking about all the presents I got you…” Nick confided with a lopsided smile. “I think we might have to buy a new house to hold them all…”
PJ suddenly grinned, the sparkle in her eyes akin to the most extraordinary blue sapphires. “Good ones?”
“The best!” Nick assured with a dramatic wave of his hand, though he made sure to return his hand to gently tweak her nose. “And damn better than what your Uncle Howie got you. I’m not going to be shown up by that Latin Looney again… But…”
“But what?”
“I’m dying to know something…”
“Baylee didn’t kiss me again, p’omise.”
“Charlotte Loraine—”
“I love you, Daddy,” she cooed sweetly.
“I love you too… But, I have to know, PJ…”
“What?”
“What do you want the most for your birthday?”
PJ leaned back, mirroring the intensity of her father’s previous contemplation deep contemplation. Her lips puckered and her brow wrinkled as she pulled herself up from the deep snuggle. Placing a hand upon her father’s chest, she connected their foreheads. “I want a Mommy.”
