Peekaboo Baby

by Delores Fossen

  “Doesn’t it?” she snapped. “He’s your son. You’ll want to raise him. Maybe you don’t feel that way right now because you’re trying to consider my feelings. But you will want to raise him.”

  Ryan didn’t contradict her. “He’s your son, too. You carried him for nine months, gave birth to him. You’ve nursed him every day of his life. You love him.”

  She dismissed him with a shake of her head. “And all of that can be negated with the results from that DNA test and a trip to a good custody lawyer. Patrick is biologically your son. Legally—”

  “No. We’re not going there.” He took her shoulders and forced her to face him. “No lawyers. No custody hearings. Just us.”

  She stared at him. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we work this out, together. Somehow.” Unfortunately, it was the somehow that was giving Ryan a few problems.

  “And we’re back to shared custody. No. I won’t go through that.”

  “So you’ve said.” He glanced out the window as the driver went through the gates of the estate. He was mere minutes from being inside. “Tell you what, let’s table this discussion. Because my brain is thinking of only one thing—seeing Patrick—and I can’t work out details. Just rest assured that we will work them out.”

  Delaney cooperated. Maybe because she didn’t have a choice. With a terrified look on her face, she sat silently, waiting, for the driver to come to a stop in front of the house. Ryan tried not to rush out, tried not to break into a run, but it took every ounce of willpower to calmly get out and follow Delaney into the foyer.

  “Go on to the nursery,” she said. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone with him.”

  It was a gift. A truly selfless one. One that had cost her, and Ryan knew exactly how high that cost was. “You’re an amazing woman.”

  She turned away from him, probably so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. Ryan noted them anyway. And he hated that this was breaking her heart.

  “Go,” she insisted when he reached for her. “We’ll talk later.”

  She even gave him a little push in the direction of the stairs. Ryan hesitated, wondering if he should try to do something about those tears, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to see his son.

  He wasn’t sure how he made it up the stairs. Each step seemed to take an eternity, and yet it felt as if he were flying. He tried to rein in his heart, to hold back if only a little, but he soon realized that wasn’t possible.

  Ryan went through the door of the nursery. Lena was there, and she had Patrick in her lap. The child turned his head in Ryan’s direction and doled out one of those priceless smiles.

  Lena stood, obviously sensing something. “Boss, are you all right?”

  “I am now.”

  Ryan forced his feet to move, and he went to his son. He reached down for him before he remembered that he’d never held a four-month-old child. He took the cue from Lena, and Ryan slid his hand around Patrick, to support his back and neck, and drew his son to him.

  The pain of the past two years seemed to melt away.

  Oh, man.

  He’d expected something powerful, something that he would remember forever. And it was. But even that was an understatement. At the moment, miracles themselves were an understatement because this was the miracle to beat them all.

  “Are you all right?” Lena repeated.

  Ryan nodded, not taking his attention away from the child he held in his arms.

  Patrick eyed him with intense curiosity and finally reached out. His tiny fingers made an awkward pass at Ryan’s chin, swiping it. Patrick made a few more attempts, his aim obviously not perfect yet, and he managed to grab Ryan’s nose.

  Patrick laughed. A cheerful hiccupping sound that lit up his whole face.

  Another miracle.

  Ryan caught some movement out of the corner of his eye and turned defensively toward it. However, there was no threat.

  It was Delaney.

  The tears that had been in her eyes while she was downstairs were now streaming down her cheeks. Those tears and her expression said it all. The grief. The fear.

  And the hurt.

  Before he could say anything, she turned and hurried out of the room.

  DELANEY PRACTICALLY SPRINTED into the bedroom of her guest suite and snatched up her purse. She wanted nothing more than to grab Patrick and run. To leave the estate and put some miles between Ryan and them.

  That was her first reaction. Her own version of fight or flight, with the flight option definitely winning out. But slowly it sank in that fleeing wasn’t a good idea. She couldn’t react out of emotion, and yet she seemed to have no choice about it.

  Feeling as if her heart were about to break apart, Delaney dropped down onto the edge of the bed and tried to choke back the tears.

  She failed.

  Disgusted with herself, she slapped her hand on the mattress. Before this past week, crying, for her, had been a semiannual event limited to days with really bad PMS or occasional breakups with boyfriends. But she’d cried buckets since she learned about the cloning allegations. And it sobered her to admit that there would probably be a lot more tears before this was over.

  “If you punch me instead of the mattress, it might help,” she heard Ryan say.

  She blinked away enough tears to see him standing in the doorway.

  Alone.

  “Where’s Patrick?” she asked, alarmed.

  “Lena has him. He’s fine.” He tipped his head to the purse she still clutched in her hand. “Are you looking for the fastest escape route?”

  “No. I was a few minutes ago, but I decided that it would be stupid to run.” She stood, took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. “Still, a drive might do me some good, and I do need to pick up papers from my house.”

  Ryan ambled closer. “Is that the truth?”

  “Yes.” She considered it, decided it was indeed the truth, and provided him with another yes. “But I really do need to get some work done. And I won’t run. I promise. But don’t expect me to just hand my son over to you. Your son,” she corrected.

  “Try our son. It might be the compromise you’re looking for.”

  “This isn’t some business deal—”

  “No.” Unlike her voice, his was calm. “It’s far more important than that.” He stopped in front of her and reached out. Ryan took her by the shoulders and pulled her into his arms.

  Because she didn’t want to be comforted, because she couldn’t be comforted, Delaney pushed him away. Turned. To head for Patrick’s room. But she only made it a couple of steps before Ryan reached her.

  He whirled her around to face him.

  The emotion caught up with her, too, and Delaney knew she was on the verge of an all-out crying session or perhaps even a temper tantrum. She didn’t want to have either in front of Ryan.

  “I’m calling a bodyguard service,” she said, knowing she wasn’t thinking this through. “Then, I’m leaving.”

  “You’re not,” he countered.

  Mercy, that riled her. Not a mild riling, either. How dare he tell her that she couldn’t leave. Wasn’t it enough that she was losing her son to him. Did she have to take orders from him, too?

  Delaney threw off his grip with far more force than required and stormed toward the nursery. Ryan cut her off at the pass so to speak. He hooked his arm around her waist, turned, and their forward momentum sent them against the nursery door, shutting it.

  Ryan took the brunt of the impact, his back landing hard against the door. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “Tough.” Delaney geared up to deliver something scathing. Something born of the fear and the anger she was feeling. Something she’d no doubt regret saying but intended to anyway.

  However, intentions were as far as she got.

  Ryan pulled her closer until he had her in a snug embrace. “I just need to feel you in my arms right now.”

  It wasn’t some sexual suggestion but more
of a heart-wrenching confession, and she didn’t think it was her imagination that it was a confession he hadn’t wanted to make.

  Delaney knew for a fact it wasn’t a confession she wanted to hear.

  She shook her head. Not because she didn’t want him to hold her. Heaven help her, she did.

  But she didn’t stay tucked in his embrace.

  In fact, because of the fear and all the uncertainty, she moved away from him.

  And Ryan let her go.

  He stood there, with his back against the nursery door. She could read every emotion on his face. Nothing hidden. This wasn’t the ruthless businessman but someone who was experiencing all the pain and joy of the news they’d just learned. His son was alive.

  Maybe it was because he didn’t reach for her. Or maybe it was because she, too, needed to hold him. Whatever the reason, Delaney retraced her steps.

  Ryan’s eyes met hers. He started to say something, but because there was still some of the questioning and the argument in the depths of his blue eyes, she pressed her fingertips to his mouth. She was so close that she had the pleasure of seeing his pulse jump in his throat.

  Her own pulse did the same.

  She reached out and pulled him to her.

  They could ruin everything for each other by squabbling over custody, by letting the past stop them from trying to work out a future.

  It felt right to hold him.

  To be held.

  She melted into his arms.

  They stood there for long moments. With his heartbeat drumming against hers. His uneven breath on her face. And they simply held each other.

  “Before you came here, there weren’t a lot of good memories in this house,” he said. “With Sandra and my son’s deaths. Plus, the time I spent here as child was some of the worst of my life.”

  Delaney didn’t know what to say; instead she listened.

  “Uncle Jess didn’t want me here,” Ryan continued. “So he just ignored me. Never made eye contact. Never acknowledged me, even if we were in the same room.”

  She could see it. Ryan, as a ten-year-old. An outsider. A lost child. Unloved. Unwanted. No wonder it was so important to him to create his own family.

  And that family now almost certainly included Patrick.

  “Thank you,” Ryan whispered.

  “For what?” Delaney had to speak around the lump in her throat.

  “For just being here. For acknowledging me. For this.”

  Oh, how his words touched her heart and made her ache for the childhood he’d never had.

  Part of her wanted their embrace, this moment, to last forever, but from the other room, she heard her son fussing. An indication that forever was about to come to an end.

  “It’s time for me to nurse him,” she remembered, checking her watch. Delaney hadn’t needed that glance though. Patrick’s fussy cry and her own breasts let her know that it was time.

  She and Ryan pulled away from each other, both reacting very much like parents, putting their child first.

  The sunlight filtering through the window flickered over them. Over Ryan. And some of the rays landed on his etched wedding band. A glint of gold danced over her.

  She could have sworn her heart stopped beating.

  Noticing his ring was nothing out of the ordinary. She’d seen it dozens of times, but for now it was like a revelation. Ryan couldn’t be anything less than a father to his son. She couldn’t be anything less than a mother.

  That, however, didn’t give them a basis to be together.

  While Delaney didn’t want a split-custody arrangement, nor did she want a loveless relationship. And whether Ryan wanted to admit it or not, he was still married. To Sandra. He still wore his wedding ring, a symbol of their love.

  Of course, Ryan would welcome her into his life, maybe even into some small part of his heart. For Patrick’s sake. Maybe even for his.

  But Delaney now understood that he couldn’t give her himself.

  That’s why she had to put a lock on own heart. To put some emotional distance between Ryan and her. Because while his arms made her feel as if he were hers, he wasn’t.

  And he never would be.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grumbling about what he’d just learned from the call to his security manager, Ryan went in search of Delaney. He found her exactly where he figured she’d be. She was still in the nursery, holding Patrick, though the baby was no longer nursing. He’d fallen asleep in her arms.

  It was a peaceful scene, not exactly congruent with the thoughts about that call. Or the rather tumultuous encounter they’d had in her bedroom. Still, Ryan took a moment to savor it.

  Delaney had her attention focused on Patrick. She was rocking him, softly humming. Patrick was settled into the crook of her arm, and even though her left breast was still exposed and ready for him to continue nursing, Patrick was zonked out.

  The moment Delaney spotted him, she pulled her top back in place, eased out of the rocking chair and settled the baby in his crib. It was a routine she probably went through four, five times a day, but it was far from routine for Ryan. He would never take it for granted that he’d been given another chance to be a father.

  Touching her finger to her lips in a shh gesture, Delaney walked past him and into her suite. Even though she was a little aloof, all right she was a lot aloof—Ryan didn’t become overly concerned until she picked up her purse.

  “I’ve already called my day care manager to tell her that I won’t be coming in to work for a while, but I need to go to my house and pick up the payroll checks for my employees. I have to sign them, or they won’t get paid. Will your driver be able take me?” she asked. Her request was more as if she were informing him of a decision she’d already made.

  “Of course.” Ryan used the intercom on the wall to buzz Lena. “Have a car and driver brought to the front. And I need you to watch Patrick. Ms. Nash and I have to make a quick trip into San Antonio.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  Delaney made a slight huffing sound, but she didn’t say anything until he clicked off the intercom. “The reason I asked to use your driver was so you can stay here with Patrick.”

  It was tempting.

  But it was a bad idea.

  “I’m coming with you,” Ryan said, and he followed Delaney out of the door and into the hall.

  She glanced over her shoulder as she made her way down the stairs. She frowned and walked faster. “This isn’t necessary. I’m sure your driver will play bodyguard for an hour or so, and you no doubt have more important things to do.”

  He had work, yes, but it wasn’t as important as going with her.

  “Do I have to remind you what happened the last time we were at your house?” Ryan glanced up at the sky when they went outside. It was cloudy in a way that could indicate another spring storm was on the way. No storm would stop him today.

  Once they were under the portico, Ryan opened the door of the limo for her, and when she just stared at him, he motioned for her to get inside. “Save your breath,” Ryan insisted. “I’m going with you.”

  After what he’d just learned from Quentin, that wasn’t up for negotiation.

  Because Delaney seemed in a rotten mood, he expected her to continue the argument, but she didn’t. She mumbled a thank-you and settled in the seat next to him.

  Close enough that he could have nudged her leg with his.

  And yet, it wasn’t very close at all.

  Something had happened since their last encounter in her bedroom. Something that had put the old walls back up between them. Ryan couldn’t let those walls stay, of course. Because for better or worse, they were on the same side.

  Now, he had to convince Delaney of that.

  “I talked to Quentin,” Ryan said. He waited, letting his hesitation prepare her for news she wasn’t going to like. Ryan didn’t care much for it, either. “He’s had P.I.s watching both of our friends—your father and Emmett Montgomery. However, your former doctor, B
ryson Keyes, has been elusive. Quentin hasn’t been able to find him yet.”

  They drove through the gate, and she studied the two guards inside the gatehouse. “And?”

  “And we’re still no closer to eliminating one of them as a suspect in either the fire or the car incident.”

  She stayed quiet a moment, most likely absorbing what he was saying. “What about alibis?”

  “They don’t have any. Well, at least none that can be verified. Plus, your father’s been driving near the estate. Not actually on the grounds, of course. The guards wouldn’t dare let him in, but yesterday he was on this road. The P.I. was ready to call the sheriff when your father made a U-turn and headed back to San Antonio.”

  “Oh, mercy.” She blew out a long breath. “The incidents might not be related to what went on at New Hope clinic.”

  “We don’t know that. Keyes is nowhere to be found, and Montgomery hasn’t left his house since we visited him at the clinic. Sounds like the actions of two guilty men if you ask me.”

  She shook her head and shoved her hands into her hair. “I want this to be over.”

  “It will be.”

  “Will it?” she snapped. “Someone wants to hurt us, Ryan. Maybe worse. Maybe someone even wants us dead, and it isn’t comforting to know that someone might be my own father.”

  He could see her point. But then, he’d seen that point for a while since he’d been on the receiving end of Nash’s threats and antics. “Have you thought about having him committed to an institution?”

  “Lately, yes! And if he’s behind this, I’ll have him put away. Because I’ve felt guilty about not saving his business, I’ve let him get by with things. But not anymore. I’m done with this whole guilt-riddled-daughter routine. I did everything I could to save his business. Everything.”

  There it was. Spelled out for him. Ryan had always considered what all of this had done to Nash, but it had obviously affected Delaney, too. “And I did everything to take it away from him.”

  She waved him off. “I didn’t tell you how I felt to transfer my guilt to you. Besides, you were just being you.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry.” She closed her eyes a moment. “Maybe I should have said it was you just dealing with your grief the only way you knew how—by throwing yourself into your work.”