Matchmaking Baby

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Joanie and Steve hastily packed their sandwiches in carryout containers and took chilled bottles of flavored water from the fridge. The employee cafeteria was being cleaned. “We could take it back to our rooms,” Steve suggested.

  “And eat separately,” Joanie stated.

  “Together,” Steve said firmly. “Preferably in my place. We still need to talk and we don’t want to disturb Em.”

  Joanie looked as if she felt that his place sounded a little too cozy.

  “I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about us,” she said. “There’s enough talk already.”

  Steve paused, thinking about where they were least likely to be observed. “What if we walk down toward the beach? There are some picnic tables scattered among the trees overlooking the shore.”

  “All right,” Joanie said after a moment, falling into step beside him. “Though what we have left to say to each other,” she continued as they headed out the doors and down the back steps, “is beyond me. But I suppose for the sake of the hotel, we should call a truce.”

  He flashed her a pleased smile. “Now you’re talking.”

  “But no more passes,” she stipulated.

  “No more passes,” Steve agreed. At least not tonight.

  They were silent as they strolled toward the beach. He grasped her elbow when she slipped on the damp grass. She responded to his touch, trembling slightly even as she leaned into him, then immediately pulled away. Moonlight shimmered on the water, the waves lapped gently on the shore, and a balmy breeze whispered through the trees.

  Steve breathed in the salty air. “It’s beautiful down here,” he said.

  “Yes, it is,” Joanie agreed, as she sat down at the picnic table facing the ocean and tucked her skirt around her knees.

  “But the beauty of the island is only part of the reason I took the speaking job here,” Steve said, sitting sideways on the bench beside her and unwrapping his sandwich.

  Joanie took a long drink of her water. “And the rest is?”

  “I want you back,” he said.

  Joanie sighed, but to Steve’s pleasure did not look all that surprised or unhappy about his revelation. “Why is it I suddenly feel like you’ve just set your sights on a seemingly insurmountable, Olympic-level goal that you are determined to achieve come what may?” she asked.

  “I am not in this just for the challenge,” Steve vowed.

  “No?” Joanie queried as she set her half-eaten sandwich down in front of her.

  “No.” Steve said. His own sandwich, though made of the finest ingredients, suddenly had all the appeal of sawdust.

  Joanie rested her elbows on the redwood table in front of her and stared out at the ocean. “I suppose next you’re going to tell me that in the two years and three months we’ve been apart you haven’t had eyes for anyone else,” she said. “That all those dates you had with beautiful women all over the world meant nothing to you.”

  “No, I’m not,” Steve said.

  Joanie turned to look at him.

  He drew a long breath and gathered his courage. “When you left the way you did that night and wouldn’t at least hear me out, I was angry and hurt. To be honest, I’ve tried like hell to forget you during my training for the Olympics and the twenty months I’ve spent on the road doing product endorsements since. But no one has measured up to you, Joanie. No one can even make me feel anything close to what we had—for that one week-and so I knew I had to come back and find you, and when I did I had to give it my best shot. All I’m asking, all I want from you is to let me try.”

  He leaned toward her passionately, knowing he was wearing his heart on his sleeve and not caring. “Don’t you see, it doesn’t matter what’s happened in the interim on your side because I’ve made mistakes, too.”

  Joanie moistened her lips. “What are you saying?”

  Steve took her hands in his and clasped them tightly. “Just that…I understand if…in the aftermath of what happened…what you thought you saw in my hotel room that night…if you went out and tried to even the score.”

  He didn’t like the idea of her being with anyone else since they’d made love, particularly as he hadn’t been with anyone else—in the biblical sense—in all that time. But he figured if they were going to have any kind of relationship in the future, they’d both have to forgive and forget on some level. Because it was obvious that mistakes had been made.

  Unfortunately, Steve thought as he studied the expression on her upturned face, Joanie didn’t feel that his willingness to forgive and forget was a magnanimous gesture on his part. She saw it as anything but generous and noble.

  “You mean you forgive me if I slept with someone I barely knew while on the rebound from you?” she asked.

  “Right.”

  “What if I knew the person well?”

  That, Steve thought, was a little harder. Still, he knew it was unfair of him to judge anything she had done or not done. “That, too.”

  Joanie swore and looked as if she wanted nothing more than to deck him then and there. “Honestly, Steve,” she grumbled as she tried to pull her hands away.

  Steve only tightened his grip. “Hold on a minute, Joanie. I’m trying to be understanding here.”

  And he was. He was trying to figure out why she hadn’t told him she was going to have a baby when he was clearly in the running for said baby’s father. He was trying to understand why she’d elect to have this baby on her own, especially if that meant she had to give up care of Emily altogether. And the only possibility he could come up with, other than the idea that Emily had been fathered by someone else, was the notion that she hadn’t told him about her pregnancy because she’d been trying to punish him for his alleged dalliance by depriving him of his child. But that didn’t make sense, either. Joanie had a temper. She wasn’t vindictive.

  “Well, understand this,” Joanie shot back, wresting her hands from his and vaulting to her feet. “Emily is not the result of my liaison with another man, and even if she was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  Now they were getting somewhere, he thought with satisfaction. “Just as I thought,” he said, crossing his arms. Joanie had kept the seriousness of her situation from him for reasons that probably seemed noble at the time. Now she was just plain scared. Scared and hurt. And that meant she needed him now more than she knew or perhaps was willing to admit.

  Joanie paled as she continued to study his face. “But she isn’t,” Joanie said, looking all the more defiant and flustered. “My child, I mean.”

  Maybe she thought he wouldn’t want the child. Maybe she still felt that. If so, Steve knew he had to rectify that.

  His heart going out to her, he took Joanie in his arms and, ignoring the flailing arms she threw up between them, gathered her to him. She felt good there. Very good.

  “You could have come to me, you know, if you’d needed help,” he said, threading his fingers through her golden hair. “I would have given you anything. I would’ve married you right away had I just known about the baby.”

  Joanie looked at him, her expression stunned and disbelieving.

  Why not? It seemed only right, especially now that they had Emily’s well-being to think about. And their own happiness at stake. He clasped her shoulders gently. “Joanie, I want you to be my wife.”

  Chapter Four

  “You’re kidding! You’re not kidding. Well, get this straight.” Joanie wrenched herself from his embrace. “I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth!” Particularly, she thought, after that ridiculously inept proposal.

  Steve crossed his arms again, the muscles of his chest bunching beneath the thick cotton knit of his long-sleeved shirt. “Look, maybe that didn’t come out right.”

  “You’re damn right it didn’t,” Joanie said furiously, whirling away from him.

  He took off after her and grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him. To her irritation, he became calmer as her emotions rose. They stood as they were a moment, studying each
other, forming their next moves. Finally he smiled down at her confidently and spoke in a voice as smooth as silk, “Nevertheless, if you and I have a child together, Joanie, we owe it to each other to get married.”

  Owe it, she thought. Not want to. Owe it, as in have to. Well she was not about to get married because she had to, and on that score, she didn’t care what anyone else thought.

  “And suppose you and I don’t have a child together?” Joanie replied, her pulse racing at his nearness. “Do we still owe it to each other to get married?”

  She raked her hands through her hair, clasped the length of it against the nape of her neck as she fought for calm.

  “What do you mean?” Steve asked.

  “I have no intention of explaining myself further to you,” Joanie said. Deciding that trying to keep her hair from blowing around in the soft ocean breeze was futile, she dropped her hands to her sides.

  His expression gentling, he slipped his arms around her. “I meant what I said, Joanie. I think you and I belong together. And Emily certainly needs us.”

  Joanie stiffened at the almost unbearable tenderness in his touch. “Emily needs her own family,” she said in a strangled voice.

  “Right.” Steve pulled her closer.

  She felt the iron hardness of his thighs and torso, and shivers of desire coursed through her body. She wedged her forearms between them, hoping that would halt the flow of sensation. All it did was remind her of the warmth and solidness of his swimmer’s body and how it felt to be held against that tensile length, skin to skin. She turned her head, and felt his lips skim her temple, softly, seductively.

  “We’re not her family,” Joanie whispered.

  He ran a fingertip down her cheek, slipped it beneath her chin and guided her face back to his. His mouth lowered inexorably toward hers.

  Joanie knew if he kissed her again, she really would be lost. It was hard enough not to give into what he wanted. What at one time she had wanted, too.

  “I mean it, Steve,” she said. “Emily is not our child.”

  Her words served only to inflame him more. “Keep saying it and maybe you’ll end up believing it,” he murmured, letting his lips brush her cheek and then the shell of her ear.

  Joanie gulped in air as she began to tremble. “Honestly!” She moaned, exasperated, then paused at the sight of a puppy running full speed down the beach. Spurred into action, she used her forearms to push out of the circle of Steve’s arms. “I don’t believe it. There’s Sigmund, the Remington’s golden-retriever puppy.”

  Momentarily diverted, Steve peered after Sigmund. “You’re sure he’s the one?”

  “Positive! Come on! We’ve got to catch him before he does any more damage.” She grabbed what was left of her sandwich and dashed after the pup.

  “How long has he been on the run?” Steve caught up with her easily and jogged beside her.

  “All afternoon,” Joanie puffed, struggling to keep up with Steve’s longer strides.

  “And what’s that he’s got in his mouth?” Thoroughly involved in the chase, Steve edged on ahead.

  “Looks like the remnants of someone’s towel, doesn’t it?” Joanie pumped her arms and legs and increased her speed to stay even with Steve. Unfortunately so did the puppy.

  “That little son of a gun must’ve had a nap,” she complained as Sigmund dashed along the water’s edge, kicking up water as he ran.

  “Think we should split up?” Steve asked, when the pup had managed to outdistance them once again.

  “Absolutely,” Joanie replied. While Steve dashed off in the direction of the grass, Joanie knelt down in the sand and whistled for the pup. Nothing. She clapped her hands. Still no effect. She whistled and clapped at the same time, then followed it with her shout, “Sigmund. Here Sigmund. Come here, boy.”

  At the sound of his name, Sigmund came to a dead stop. Tail high, he turned around and faced Joanie. Afraid to leave her place in the sand for fear the puppy would take off again, Joanie wiggled her sandwich in front of him. “Here Sigmund. Time for supper, Sigmund….”

  Ears cocked, the puppy looked at Joanie. He lurched forward, then midstride did an about-face that landed him right in Steve’s arms. Steve held on to him, despite the lack of collar.

  He lifted all thirty pounds of squirming wet puppy in his arms. They made a ridiculously cute sight, Joanie thought.

  “Now what?” he said, as she closed the distance between them.

  “We need to get him back to the Remingtons.”

  Joanie spied a lone young woman on the beach, clad in jeans, sneakers and a Cornell sweatshirt. She wondered if that was the student Dennis Wright had been looking for earlier. “Listen, would you mind taking Sigmund here up to hotel security by yourself? I’ll clean up our picnic and check on that guest.”

  “No problem. Sig and I’ll walk you over.” They headed for the young woman who was sitting, hands clasped around her knees, staring listlessly out at the ocean.

  Before Joanie had a chance to speak, the young woman bounded to her feet. “Steve, hi!”

  Steve paused. “Hi.” It was obvious he couldn’t place her.

  “I’m Phoebe Claterberry. We met at a regional mentoring conference a couple of years ago.” She beamed, her joy at seeing him again spilling over. “I told everyone how great you were that weekend. In fact, I chaired the committee that nominated you for this year’s national conference. Remember? We even spoke on the phone a couple of times? I told you I had talked to Liz Jermain.”

  “Oh. Right.” Steve nodded as a squirming Sigmund licked his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t recall you right off the bat. It’s been a confusing night.”

  “That’s okay,” Phoebe said a little shyly. “It has been two years…”

  “Well, I better get Sigmund on over to security. Phoebe, nice to have seen you again. Joanie, I’ll see you later.”

  Joanie and Phoebe watched Steve saunter off, a madly squirming Sigmund in his arms. Joanie turned back to Phoebe.

  “I’m Joanie Griffin, the hotel concierge.” She paused. She didn’t want to intrude. She did want to be of service, and a moment ago, before Steve’s celebrity had gotten in the way, this young woman had looked as if she very much needed a friend. Joanie gave her an encouraging smile. “Is everything okay with your stay so far?”

  Phoebe shrugged, her expression guarded. “I guess. I mean, my bags are being held by the bellman, but I haven’t formally checked in yet.”

  “I know.” Joanie nodded. “Another conference goer mentioned that to me.”

  Abruptly Phoebe looked peeved. “Let me narrow that down even more. Dennis Wright sent you to find me, didn’t he?”

  “You guessed right, no pun intended.”

  Looking down at the sand clinging to her legs, Phoebe dusted herself off with a frown. “Yeah, I figured.” Then her expression became worried. “There’s no problem with my room reservation, is there? I mean, I had that guaranteed arrival—”

  “There’s no problem with your room. It’ll be ready whenever you are, Ms. Claterberry. I just wondered why you were out here all alone.”

  Again Phoebe withdrew into herself. “I just have an awful lot on my mind. I wanted to be alone, to think about things, before I dealt with people…you know?”

  Joanie did indeed. There were times she needed to be alone, too. “Well, if there’s anything I or the hotel staff can do, please let me know.” Determined to let the young woman have her privacy, Joanie turned to go.

  “Ms. Griffin?”

  Joanie turned back.

  Phoebe stuck her hands in the front pockets of her hooded sweatshirt. “About that baby that was found today…” she began. At Joanie’s look of surprise, she elaborated, “The news was all over the resort almost as soon as it happened. Of course, that’s to be expected. I mean, it’s not every day a baby is left on someone’s doorstep.”

  “No,” Joanie said slowly, wondering for the first time if Phoebe had had anything to do with Emily’s su
dden appearance at the resort, “it isn’t.”

  “Anyway.” Phoebe looked anxious. “Is the baby okay?”

  “Yes. Emily’s fine. In fact, she’s sleeping right now.”

  “Have you found her folks?”

  “We’re working on it.”

  “Good.” Phoebe seemed relieved.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?” Joanie asked.

  “No. Why would you ask?”

  “Well, Emily was left about the same time that all the college kids hit the island and were starting to check in.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t see anything.” Phoebe changed the subject. “Listen, about my friends. I’ll face them tomorrow, but not tonight. Promise me you won’t tell anyone—especially Dennis Wright—where I am.”

  “I promise,” Joanie said reluctantly.

  Leaving Phoebe on the beach, she gathered up the remains of the meal at the picnic table, then headed back toward the hotel. Halfway between the beach and the hotel, a security van pulled up. Steve was in the front seat, Sigmund still in his arms. Howard Forsythe was driving.

  “We’re headed for the Remingtons,” Steve said. “Want to tag along?”

  Joanie shook her head. “No. I want to get back to Emily. Liz’ll be wondering where I am. And I think I’m going to turn in. It’s been a long day, and who knows when Emily will wake up tomorrow morning?”

  “Okay. Let me know if you need help during the night,” Steve said as Sigmund continued to snuggle up to him.

  Joanie nodded agreeably, though she had no intention of taking Steve up on his offer. Howard waved and the two men drove off.

  Liz was watching a rerun of An Affair to Remember when Joanie walked in. “Hi,” she said softly, her eyes alert and searching. “How’d it go with Steve?”

  Joanie rolled her eyes and motioned Liz outside, so the sound of their voices wouldn’t wake the sleeping Emily. “The man’s an idiot,” she confided.

  Liz smiled. “Meaning?”

  Joanie stalked back and forth, her indignation rising as she recalled the audacious yet matter-of-fact way Steve had gone about it. She’d never known bluntness could hurt so much. “He proposed to me! Can you believe it?”