She spoke with such conviction he guessed it was likely that she’d grown up with a father who was a transitory presence, too. He knew he had no hope of defending himself against her personal demons, so he only said, “Maybe we should continue this conversation tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because I just got home last night, I read Olivia’s letter this morning, then drove from Trenton to Syracuse to Pinehurst, all the while trying to get my head around the fact that I have a fourteen-month-old child I didn’t know anything about before today.”
“I thought you’d be going back to New Jersey tomorrow, if not sooner.”
“You mean you wished I was.”
She didn’t deny it.
“I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out,” he assured her.
“Unless duty calls,” she guessed.
“I have almost two months.”
But the skepticism in her eyes warned that she knew it was a promise he couldn’t make and confirmed that Paige’s apparent disapproval of his career was about more than the possibility of his deployment interfering with his ability to get to know Emma.
“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.
“What time is good?”
“Not oh-five-hundred,” she warned.
He smiled. “How about oh-nine-hundred?”
“A much more civilized hour.”
Zach wished her a good-night and made his way to the door.
His first meeting with Paige Wilder hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. But nothing had gone quite as he’d expected since his plane had touched down at McGuire Air Force Base twenty-eight hours earlier. From the shocking news revealed by Olivia’s letter to his unexpected and undeniable reaction to Paige Wilder, his life was suddenly FUBAR.
Yet, as he made his way to his SUV, he realized he was whistling and already looking forward to tomorrow.
Zach had spotted a couple of hotels on Main Street when he’d driven through town earlier, so he started to retrace his route, figuring he would check into the first one that he came across. He found “Hadfield House—A Bed-and-Breakfast” first. The sign outside promised private baths and hot breakfasts, but Zach only cared that there was an empty bed because he was too exhausted to go much farther.
Thankfully he always traveled with a duffel bag packed with a change of clothes and some basic toiletries—he certainly hadn’t planned on staying overnight. He hadn’t planned on being gone more than a few hours—just long enough to make the trip into Syracuse, talk to Olivia, demand an explanation for the letter and her silence, and try to figure out what the hell they were supposed to do now.
The news that Olivia was dead had been as much a shock as her revelation about the baby. And although he grieved the death of the vibrant young woman, he was also frustrated by the realization that he wouldn’t ever have the opportunity to confront her and demand answers to the questions that crowded his mind.
Early that morning, when he’d read Olivia’s letter—and reread it over and over again, as if doing so might somehow change the words that were written—he’d tried to call her, but both her home and cell numbers were out of service. At the time, he’d been more annoyed than concerned by the realization, but he’d decided that the conversation they needed to have should be face-to-face, and he’d driven to the apartment building she’d lived in while they were dating.
When he got there, he found that her name was no longer on the tenant directory and his inquiries of the landlord only revealed that she no longer lived there. His next stop was the law firm where she worked, and when he walked through the heavy glass doors of the law offices of Wainwright, Witmer & Wynne, he’d been confident that he was getting closer to the answers he sought.
It was the receptionist—Louise Pringle, according to the nameplate on her desk—who’d told him, with tears in her eyes, that Olivia had been killed in a motor-vehicle collision more than five months earlier.
He’d had to swallow around the lump of guilt and regrets that had lodged in his throat before he could ask, “Did she have her baby with her?”
“Oh, no. Paige was babysitting the little angel, and thank the good Lord for that.”
Relief shuddered through his system, assuring him that, although the news about the baby had rocked him to the very core, he wanted a chance to know his child, to be a father to his little girl.
“Paige?” he prompted.
“Paige Wilder. She’s another one of the attorneys here. She has legal custody of Emma now.”
“Is it possible for me to see Ms. Wilder?”
“She’s out of town,” the efficient Louise had said, consulting the schedule on her computer. “But Victoria Lawrence might be able to squeeze you in around two o’clock tomorrow.”
“Thanks, but I really need to see Ms. Wilder,” he had said. “Do you have a number where I could contact her?”
The older woman had started to shake her head, but then she eyed the uniform again and paused. “I really can’t give out that kind of information,” she said. “Maybe if you left your name and number and the reason you want to speak with her, I could contact Paige and ask her to get in touch with you.”
“It’s a personal matter.”
The furrow in her brow deepened, but when she looked up at him again, her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, I didn’t realize.”
“Didn’t realize?” he prompted.
“You’re Emma’s father.”
Her matter-of-fact assertion had taken him aback. Although he had originally gone to the law offices to see Olivia about that possibility, he’d been completely unprepared to hear a stranger echo his short-term girlfriend’s allegation.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, as wary as he was curious.
“She has your eyes,” Louise told him.
“Crawford blue” was how his mother had always referred to the color that each of her children had inherited from their father.
Although blue was a common eye color, he’d had enough people comment on the unique shade of his to realize that “Crawford blue” was distinctive. But he couldn’t say for certain whether or not Olivia’s child had the same color eyes because she’d been asleep when he arrived at Paige Wilder’s door.
He hadn’t looked at her closely enough to see if there was any other resemblance. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to. He was willing to do the right thing by his child, if Emma was his child, but, if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he was prepared to tackle fatherhood and everything it entailed at this point in his life. He hadn’t thought much about having kids at all, except in the vaguest of terms and somewhere in a still-distant future.
He was thirty-seven years old, long past the age when most of his contemporaries had settled down with a wife and kids. Some of them were even on their second or third wives, which was not a path he had any desire to follow.
But if he’d fathered a child, as Olivia claimed, he would be a father to that child.
And so he’d taken the address Louise had discreetly slipped to him and he’d found Paige Wilder and Emma.
He’d found his daughter.
And seeing the baby in Paige’s arms had absolutely terrified him.
He’d seen and experienced some unbelievable things during his years in the Air Force, all without batting an eye. But the sight of that beautiful little girl, so small and vulnerable and completely dependent, had nearly knocked him on his ass.
After Zach left, Paige stood beside Emma’s crib, tears streaming down her cheeks as the truth of the situation sank in. She could try to block Zach Crawford at every turn, she could stall him with all kinds of legal maneuvering, but her efforts would only delay the inevitable. Because she knew too well that the interest of a previously unknown father was a significant change in circumstances that could—and would—successfully challenge her custody decree.
And losing Emma would break her heart.
Why did you do it, Olivia? Why did you lie about Emm
a’s father?
Of course, her friend couldn’t answer her questions now, and Paige found herself cursing in frustration. And then she felt guilty for cursing a woman who had died so young and so tragically—a woman who had been one of her closest friends and yet, in retrospect, a woman she wasn’t sure she had really known at all.
If I’d known, I would have been prepared for the possibility that Emma’s father might show up someday. Instead, you let me fall in love with this child, never guessing that Zach Crawford might show up and want to take her away.
She had no doubt that was what he planned to do. A man who had risen to the rank of lieutenant colonel was undoubtedly dedicated, honorable and trustworthy—definitely not the type of man to walk away from his own child.
But maybe Emma wasn’t his child. Maybe, despite Olivia’s letter, her friend was mistaken about the baby’s paternity. Because aside from the eye color, she really hadn’t seen any resemblance between Zach and Emma. The man was a complete contrast to the child. He was so solid and strong and—
The mental image was so vivid that her heart actually skipped a beat, and Paige cursed herself for the uncharacteristic weakness. She wasn’t usually the type of woman to get all fluttery and tongue-tied over a handsome man, and letting her imagination run wild with respect to Zach Crawford wasn’t just futile—it was dangerous.
I don’t want us to be adversaries.
But they were, and she needed to remember that and forget that the lieutenant colonel had stirred feelings she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Chapter Three
Zach didn’t usually dream. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that he didn’t usually remember his dreams. But when he bolted up in bed early the next morning, the details were fresh in his mind and his heart was pounding hard and fast from the adrenaline that had surged through his system.
He scrubbed his hands over his jaw, blinked away the last remnants of slumber and reminded himself that it had only been a dream.
But it had felt so unbelievably and terrifyingly real.
He was flying an F-22 Raptor in enemy skies when the jet suddenly started to spin. He couldn’t get the plane under control and he was dropping fast. He swore and he prayed, then he reached for the ejection handle.
But he felt no relief when he successfully punched out, only an escalating sense of panic when the parachute failed to deploy. Then he glanced down and saw that there was a baby sitting in his lap. A tiny little girl who looked up at him with wide, trusting blue eyes. And all he could do was hold on to her and fervently pray as they plunged toward the ground.
He pushed himself out of bed and strode toward the bathroom. A quick flick of his wrist had the shower running, and he stripped away his briefs and stepped under the pounding spray, desperate to clear the lingering shadows of the dream from his mind.
He didn’t need a psychiatric assessment to know that learning he was a father had sent his whole world spinning out of control. What worried him more was to think that maybe the dream hadn’t simply been a manifestation of his own fears but an omen—a warning that his sudden appearance in Emma’s life could tear her away from the safety and security of the life she had with her legal guardian.
And suddenly an image of Paige Wilder filled his mind.
The gleaming coppery hair, the dark chocolate-colored eyes and the distinctly feminine curves packed quite a punch. There was no denying that he’d felt an immediate jab of purely sexual attraction the moment she’d opened her door. But it was more than her obvious physical beauty that tugged at him. It was the stubborn tilt of her chin, the determined glint in her eyes and the realization that this woman was as fiercely protective of the little girl who had been placed in her care as a mother bear would be of her cubs.
But Zach wasn’t going to be scared off by anything she said or did because that little girl was his daughter. He was sure of it. And he suspected that Paige was sure of it, too, but she was going to drag things out, hoping that he would have to go wheels up again before anything was resolved.
If that was the case, Paige Wilder was in for a surprise because Zach wasn’t going anywhere without his daughter.
Emma was still sound asleep when the sun started to peek over the horizon, but Paige crawled out of bed anyway. Oh-nine-hundred was definitely a more civilized hour, but she knew that the promise of French toast would be enough to summon her cousins for a quick breakfast meeting before Zach arrived.
Ashley was a first-grade teacher who’d never wanted anything more than she’d wanted a family, and in the past year she’d ended her engagement to a cheating fiancé and then married the high-school sweetheart who had moved back to town. Now she was stepmother to his darling little girl and expecting a baby of her own in just about three months. Megan was the vice president of research and development at Richmond Pharmaceuticals, married to the company president’s youngest son and in her ninth month of pregnancy.
The three of them had traditionally met once a month for Sunday brunch and, occasionally, on Friday nights just to hang out together. It used to be that their social gatherings included as much wine as conversation, but that had changed in the past year since first Megan and then Ashley got pregnant and Paige learned she’d been entrusted with custody of Emma.
But the camaraderie they shared and their trust in one another hadn’t changed, and Paige knew they never would. And that was why she’d come home—to be with these women who knew her better than anyone else ever had, who understood her hopes and dreams, and who would understand how confused and conflicted she was feeling right now.
As if on cue, Ashley was at the door with her seven-yearold stepdaughter just as the coffee finished brewing and Emma woke up.
“I hope you don’t mind that I brought Maddie,” she said. “I figured she could help keep Emma busy while we talked and then she and I can leave for school directly from here.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Paige said because, aside from the fact that she was grateful Ashley was there, she absolutely adored Maddie.
“Do you like French toast?” she asked.
The child’s eyes sparkled as she nodded her head enthusiastically. “I love French toast.”
“Then you get the first piece,” Paige decided, dipping a slice of bread into the egg batter, then dropping it into the hot pan.
Her cousins were the reason she’d come back to Pinehurst when the proverbial rug had been pulled out from beneath her feet. Of course, she’d had no idea then that things were going to get a lot worse before they got better—and she was keeping her fingers crossed that they would get better—but she knew she could count on Ashley and Megan to stand by her and support her whatever she decided to do.
“Mmm, I smell French toast,” Megan said, waddling into the kitchen a few minutes later.
“I promised you breakfast,” Paige reminded her.
“So you did,” Megan agreed. “But you know we would have come even without the bribe.”
Paige nodded, tears stinging her eyes as she slid the spatula under the bread and flipped it in the pan.
And although she knew her cousins had to be curious about the reason for her frantic phone calls last night, they didn’t press her. Instead, they worked around one another in the kitchen—Paige making the toast, Ashley serving it up for the kids, Megan brewing the herbal tea her sister had always preferred while sipping half a cup of coffee generously doctored with milk for the benefit of the baby she was carrying.
When Maddie had finished her breakfast and washed up, she took Emma into the living room to play with her, and the three adults sat down with their plates.
“Is this about the hunky guy Melanie saw you with last night?” Ashley asked.
“When did you see Melanie?” Paige countered.
“What hunky guy?” Megan wanted to know.
“Melanie was walking her dog when Maddie and I were on our way over here. She told me that there was a tall, dark-haired and very handsome man at you
r door last night and that you invited him inside. But not for very long, she assured me. Just about long enough for a cup of coffee, and then he was on his way again.”
Paige shook her head. “Remind me again why I decided to stay here.”
“Because you wanted to take some time to figure out your future, because you wanted to be closer to Megan and I, and because it’s a great neighborhood where the residents look out for one another.”
“Is that another way of saying ‘spy on one another’?”
“Who cares about the neighborhood?” Megan said. “I want to hear about the hunky man.”
Paige swirled a piece of French toast in syrup, then set her fork down again without eating it. Even the coffee that was as necessary to her system as oxygen in the morning wasn’t sitting comfortably in her stomach, and the breakfast she’d prepared held even less appeal.
“The hunky man is Lieutenant Colonel Zach Crawford of the United States Air Force. He claims—”
She thought she could get through this without any more tears, but the moisture that filled her eyes proved otherwise.
“He claims to be Emma’s father.”
“Emma’s father?” The shock in Ashley’s voice echoed Paige’s initial response to Zach’s announcement. She nodded.
“Did he have any proof?” Megan demanded. As a successful research scientist, she was skeptical of anything that couldn’t be proven.
“He had a letter…from Olivia.”
Megan reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Olivia named you as Emma’s guardian.”
“I know. But if it turns out that he is her father—” She couldn’t finish the thought.
But she didn’t need to. When Ashley reached for her other hand, she knew that they understood the bond she’d formed with Emma. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t carried the child in her womb or given birth to her—she’d taken prenatal classes with Olivia, coached her through the birth and, after the doctor and the mother, she’d been the first to hold the newborn baby.
The Baby Surprise Page 3
