The Baby Gift

by Day Leclaire

"I thought I'd save the news until the tow truck showed up." He crossed to the window and glanced outside. The storm hadn't lessened any. Rather it had grown worse. A white lump remained in the middle of the driveway, its blanket of icy snow far thicker than it had been earlier. It didn't come as any surprise to find Babe hadn't been moved. "Though I doubt that tow's going to happen. This storm hit harder than anyone anticipated."

  "When do you think he’ll come?"

  "No time soon." Alessandro threw her a warning look over his shoulder. "Not that you have enough in your pocket for a tow, let alone car repairs, even if Lou does put in an appearance.”

  To his amazement, she smiled confidently. “I’ll work something out with the mechanic. I'll bet I can pick up a waitressing job. I'm experienced at that. And if the motels are as busy as you say, they're bound to need a part-timer to lend a hand." She practically vibrated with cheerful optimism. Quite a switch from her earlier distress. Based on what he'd observed so far, he suspected her current attitude came closer to reflecting her true personality. Maybe someone will be kind enough to take in a boarder. A widow lady or a pensioner. They always appreciate extra pocket money."

  He deliberately wiped all inflection from his voice. "Could be." Though he doubted it. There were usually a slew of college students only too eager to earn a few bucks over the holidays, especially if it meant they could ski during their off-hours. "You still haven't explained what you're doing here."

  "Time enough to deal with that later," she retorted briskly. "I think the first order of business is to figure out where Nick and I are going to stay for the night.”

  "There isn't any choice. You'll have to stay here."

  "Look, Alessandro, before you make offers you might not want to keep, there's something I need to—" She broke off, her expression switching from determined to appalled.

  He stiffened. Alessandro. She'd called him Alessandro. "How the hell do you know my name?" be questioned with biting softness. Now that he thought about it, this was the second time she'd used it. She'd called to him when she'd first awoken, before panicking about Nick. If he hadn't been jerked out of a sound sleep, he'd have caught her error sooner. "We never introduced ourselves."

  "I can explain—"

  "Have we met?" He approached, crowding her against the sofa. The quilts tumbled from her arms to the floor again, cascading to her feet in a stream of vibrant color. "Or is this some sort of setup? Who the hell are you?"

  She stared at him, unicorns and Santa Claus and impossible dreams returning to her eyes. He halted abruptly, unwilling to invade further into such alien territory. "Don't you remember me?" she pleaded.

  "Should I?"

  "I was hopin' you might. We met a while back."

  He swept her with a swift, penetrating glance, struggling to find something even remotely familiar about her. From what he could see of her beneath the ill-fining clothing, there was lean strength in the fine-boned frame and an appealing delicacy to her features. She met his gaze unflinchingly, her expression open and straightforward, if a shade wary. Not even the unusual blue shade of her eyes struck a chord, though the stoic resolve reflected there gave him pause. No. He'd have remembered if they'd ever met.

  "It must have been a while back," he said, giving her the benefit of the doubt. "Are you related to my ex-wife? Did we meet at the wedding?"

  Her jaw clenched. "No. We met two years ago this coming March."

  March? She'd chosen an interesting time period, one with a big, black hole right in the middle of it. His mouth tightened. Or did she already know that? After all, the events of that month weren't a secret. He analyzed her expression, searching for some clue to what she had planned. Something wasn't right about this—about her. He'd suspected it from the start. If he hadn't been so distracted by his reaction to her, he'd have pursued that sense of wrongness sooner. Whatever the case, he'd had enough.

  He moved away, giving them both some much-needed breathing space. They might never have met before—at least, that he could remember—but that didn't mean he wouldn't have been interested in getting to know her more intimately, if circumstances had been different. He was forced to acknowledge the underlying attraction, an irrational, if undeniable firing of the senses. Still... Common sense urged caution—and he'd learned through years of rocky experience to listen to his common sense.

  "Okay, fine. Let's say I believe your claim that we've met before. You just happened to be driving by when your car broke down?" he questioned skeptically. "Your arrival here is sheer coincidence?"

  She lifted her chin, inherent pride implicit in every line of her body. "No, it's not coincidence. I knew you'd be here and came to find you."

  Alessandro folded his arms across his chest. "How did you guess where I'd be? The cabin belongs to my entire family."

  "Your brother, Luc, gave me directions. I visited your family business—Salvatores—before corning."

  This was was getting worse by the minute. "You knew enough about me to track me down in San Francisco? At work, no less?"

  "Yes."

  "And Luc, after only one meeting, told you where to find me?" He fired the question at her. "Or have you met him before, too."

  "Yes! No." She thrust her hands into her hair and shoved the flyaway bangs out of her face. Taking a deep breath, she fought for control, "No, I'd never met Luc or any of your family before showin' up on their doorstep. And yes, Luc gave me directions after just one meeting."

  "And why would he do that?"

  "So I could give you—" Her voice broke, but she made a swift recovery. "So I could give you something."

  "What?"

  Her hands closed into fists and her mouth worked for an instant before she managed to get the words out. "I came to give you Nick. He's..." A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes. "He's your son."

  Fury poured through him in waves. "Who the hell are you and what sort of sick joke is this?" He kept his voice low, but it still bit. She flinched, though she didn't back down.

  "It's not a joke."

  "Are you trying to tell me that you and I were lovers?" His laugh held a harsh edge. "Pull the other one, sweetheart. There isn't a chance that once I'd had you in my bed I'd forget such a memorable occasion."

  Her gaze fastened on him for an endless moment and he felt as if she were searching for something deep within him, fighting to elicit a response. Whatever she wanted, he didn't possess. Rhonda had exorcised most of the gentler human qualities from him long ago. The silence stretched between them, drawn taut with unmistakable tension. It wasn't quite a battle of wills, but it definitely resonated with the sort of emotional turbulence that had existed between men and women since the beginning of time.

  At long last, her lashes flickered downward, cutting off her thoughts. No doubt she was considering her options. Not that she had any. He had no intention of having her responsibilities dumped on him. If she hadn't already figured that out, he'd make it crystal clear in the next couple of minutes.

  "Are you ready to tell me the truth?" he demanded. "Are you doing this in the hopes of getting money from me? Or are you just tired of taking care of your kid and looking for a convenient place to abandon him?"

  She didn't react with the indignant anger his words should have roused. To his amazement, compassion crept into her gaze, a compassion he neither wanted nor needed. "You sound so cynical."

  "I'm feeling rather cynical right now."

  "Nick's your son, Alessandro. A simple blood test will prove it."

  "When and where was he conceived?” His mouth twisted. “And perhaps I should ask...with whom?"

  She stiffened, his words clearly firing her resolve. Her mouth firmed and her posture straightened to painful erectness. Determination ignited the vividness of her eyes, eclipsing the earlier compassion, and she faced him with a ferocity at direct odds with her fey appearance. "It was two years ago next March. In fact, Nick was conceived on the first day of spring in a pretty little cabin on the outskirts of Asheville, N
orth Carolina. A real cabin, rustic and simple and hewn from the surrounding trees with loving hands and hearts. He'll be a year old on Christmas Day. His mother's name is Meg. Meg Williams. Ring any bells, Mr. Salvatore?"

  Meg, He tried out the name, finding it had a disturbing familiarity, though he could have sworn he'd never met anyone by that name. "I was in Asheville that March."

  "So you admit it?"

  "No way, sweetheart. I'm not admitting anything."

  "You accuse me of trying to escape my responsibilities. What about you?" Despair drove the sweet illusions from her eyes. "Are you going to stand there and deny your part in Nick's existence? I wouldn't have thought so poorly of you, Alessandro. You always struck me as the upstanding sort."

  "Are you saying we had a one-night stand white I was there?" he forced himself to ask. He didn't want to concede even that much. Unfortunately, he wasn't in any position to defend his innocence.

  “I’m not saying any such thing. I'm flat-out telling you it happened. And it wasn't a one-night stand. You had a two-week relationship with Nick's momma, Meg. You also claimed to love her." A spark of indignation surged through her voice, pain underscoring every word. "Are those sorts of affairs so common, you don't even remember? Or was it the woman you were with who proved forgettable?"

  He wasn't ready to tell her about his days in Asheville. He needed time to analyze her angle before revealing any chinks in his armor. ''They're not common. Which is all the more reason why I'd remember fathering a child, particularly if the relationship was as serious as you're suggesting." There was another factor insuring that Nick couldn't be his. “I’m also scrupulous about practicing safe sex. I don't consider it a woman's sole responsibility and never have."

  "Nor do you trust women enough to allow them to take the responsibility.”

  Her words had a flat finality that stopped him cold "How do you know that?"

  "Your youngest brother, Pietro, made that mistake. Your niece, Toni, is the result. And even though Pietro married Toni's momma and their marriage has been a lovin' one, you were determined not to allow a similar accident to happen to you. At least, that's what you told Meg." Her mouth curved into a bittersweet smile. "I guess you could say fate has a flair for the ironic."

  Once again he felt a disturbing familiarity with the name. "Is that you? You're Meg?"

  She hesitated for so long, he didn't think she'd answer. "I'm Lauren Williams," she eventually said, her voice rife with a bone-deep exhaustion. "Meg is....was my sister."

  "Was?"

  Lauren's obvious distress aroused another surge of the protective instinct he'd experienced earlier. What was it about her that cut through the defenses he'd built over the years? Her waiflike appearance? His appreciation for the inherent strength that underscored her every word and action? Or was it simply a gut-level attraction to her as a woman?

  "My sister died a few months ago, remember? I mentioned it earlier."

  "Right. I'm sorry." He didn't want to push when she was so obviously upset, but he didn't have any choice. "I assume she's the one who told you I'm Nick's father."

  "Yes."

  "Is there any possibility she's mistaken?" He couldn't think of a more tactful way to phrase the question.

  She acknowledged the effort with a slight smile. "None."

  Alessandro frowned as another thought occurred to him. "You said we'd met. When was that?"

  "My sister and I were together that first day. You and Meg hit it off from the start."

  "Where was this?"

  "At a small restaurant tucked in the foothills outside of Asheville. A place called LuLu's."

  He shook his head in frustration. “I’m sorry. I don't remember. Do you have any way at all of substantiating your claim?"

  She paused again and he knew without a doubt that she was keeping something from him. She'd hesitated like that once before, but he couldn't remember what question he'd asked at the time. He'd make damned sure he paid attention from here on out.

  "The blood test will substantiate my claim. You don't need more than that."

  Need or deserve? Alessandro couldn't help but wonder. He thrust a hand through his hair and paced toward the hearth. The fire licked hungrily at the logs he'd added. The ruby embers beneath the grate hissed, relieved by an occasional pop and the accompanying shower of sparks. Lauren acted so certain, he had the nasty suspicion she might be telling the truth—at least, the truth as she knew it. He glanced uneasily at the boy who was sitting on the floor by the carton of toys, examining each and every one of them with an intentness surprising in one so young. Could Nick actually be his? Could he have a son?

  He dismissed the possibility with a quick shake of his head. No. No way. For one thing, he didn't go in for one-night stands—or even two-week stands. And for another, Lauren was right. He didn't take foolish chances or trust his partner to handle something as vital as birth control. If he'd been with this Meg, he'd have taken precautions. Children weren't in the foreseeable future—at least, not in his foreseeable future.

  He swung around to face Lauren. "So what now?"

  "I'm hopin' you'll want to get to know your son." She smiled at the boy with a tenderness that transfigured her. With that simple curve of her lips she went from elf to angel. "A boy should be close to his father.”

  "And if the test proves I'm not Nick's father?"

  She didn't appear concerned by the possibility. "That's not going to happen. Even if you don't believe me, look at him. He's the image of you."

  He lifted an eyebrow. "He looks like a typical baby. In case you haven't noticed, I don't bear any resemblance to a baby whatsoever."

  The corners of her mouth trembled into another smile and a soft, silvery laugh escaped. "No, you don't. I was referring to the shape of his face and color of his hair and eyes. They're the same pitch-black as yours."

  "I'm not the only man in the world with dark eyes."

  She sighed. "True. That's why I'm suggesting a paternity test. That way you'll know for certain."

  "I’ll need to make some calls to find out where we can have the procedure done."

  "If it's too far away, it'll have to wait," she informed him. "I still need to have someone fix my car. And to be honest, I'm exhausted."

  She looked it, too. Not that he'd allow sympathy to interfere with his handling of the situation. Something didn't add up and until he found out what, he refused to trust anything she said. "I gather that means your car really did break down? It wasn't just an excuse?"

  "It pulled into your driveway on a hope and a prayer. It won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

  "Convenient.”

  He'd succeeded in angering her. Just as well. Having her angry would make it easier for him to maintain an emotional distance. After all, he'd had years of experience being the calm in the midst of unending storms of passion. If there were two qualities Salvatores were renowned for, it was passion and charm, qualities that had both managed to pass him by. He'd found that the more worked up those around him became, the calmer his own reactions. If Lauren chose to respond like a Salvatore, it would make his job all the easier.

  "As far as I’m concerned, it's not the least bit convenient," she retorted. "I can't even drive myself to the store for food or diapers."

  "In that case, I hope you have enough to last the next couple of days."

  "Why?"

  "Because neither of us are leaving here anytime soon."

  She darted to the window and stared out, her dismay obvious. "I can't even see my car."

  "If I were a suspicious man, I'd say your timing was opportune."

  "You are a suspicious man and my timing was lousy," she informed him absently.

  She knew he was a suspicious man? An ungovernable annoyance flashed through him and he released his breath in a silent sigh. So much for being the dispassionate Salvatore. “If you intend to keep up the pretense that we've met before, it's going to be a long couple of days."

  "Pretense?" Lau
ren turned to face him. She was framed by the window and backlit by a tempest of snow swirling on savage eddies of wind. He had trouble reading her expression, but not the indignation of her tone. "It's not a pretense."

  "So you've said. Time will tell." He inclined his head in the direction of the kitchen. "Come on, I missed out on a cup of coffee earlier. I suspect we could both use a cup now."

  "First I'd like to unload the car. It's been a while since I last changed Nick." At the sound of his name, the boy glanced up from the toys spread around him and beamed. She returned his grin with one of her own. Alessandro couldn't help but notice the unmistakable resemblance between them. They both shared the same wide, generous mouth that slid into a smile with a natural ease he envied. "He's also going to be hungry for a snack soon."

  "Any snacks you left in the car will be frozen by now. You'll have to see if I have anything that will do."

  "In that case, let's hope you have yogurt with fruit in it. Nick likes it mixed in with just about everything he eats."

  "Everything? You're kidding."

  "’Fraid not." She ticked off on her fingers. "He eats peach yogurt with his applesauce. Raspberry yogurt with peas. Strawberry-banana yogurt with chicken. As long as there's yogurt mixed in with his meal, down it goes, slick as pig grease.”

  "Yogurt and chicken? That's disgusting."

  "Not according to your son."

  Damn. It only took a brief two-minute conversation for her to slip beneath his defenses and bewitch him into relaxing his guard. How the hell had she pulled that off? No one had ever managed it in such a short time. Not even Rhonda. "Don't call him that."

  "What? Your son?" Her jaw jutted out at a defiant angle. "Facts are facts, Alessandro. That's who Nick is. Protesting the truth isn't going to change it any."

  "His paternity hasn't been established to my satisfaction."

  "Maybe not, but the test will take care of that minor detail. Meanwhile, I suggest you start getting used to the idea."

  "Wrong. What we're going to do is take this situation one step at a time. No games. No assumptions. And no great leaps of faith. Until I have positive proof in hand, we keep this as impersonal as possible."