Baby, Oh Baby!

by Robin Wells

  But she needed help. She couldn't care for an active baby alone the day after major surgery.

  She scanned the room for Madeline and spotted her beside the long window, still peering out. Annie followed the child's gaze to a large billboard across the street. It was an ad for a loan company, placed near a busy intersection for everyone in the town to see, but the message seemed solely aimed at Annie. Her grandfather's soft drawl reverberated in her head as she gazed at the words: "Sometimes we all need a little help."

  The words seemed to grow larger as she gazed at the sign, and they transported her back in time, back to a warm April afternoon when she was six years old. She'd bought a kite with her own money and wanted to put it together by herself. The only problem was, she couldn't read the directions. She'd struggled and struggled, but only succeeded in making a mess. She'd finally burst into tears when it all seemed a hopeless tangle.

  Her grandfather's hands bad been gentle and sure as he'd unsnarled it for her, and his voice had been the same way. "Sometimes we all need a little help, girl. There's no shame in taking it when we do."

  He'd been right then, and he was no doubt right now. Annie closed her eyes, then breathed out a deep sigh. "Okay.”

  "Okay, what?"

  Annie jerked her eyes open, surprised to discover she'd spoken aloud. "Okay. You can stay." Oh, dear—that certainly wasn't a very gracious way to thank someone who was going to put his life on hold to tend to her and her baby for the next few days. She swallowed back all of her uncharitable feelings and forced herself to look him in the eye, which gave her the oddest, funniest feeling in the pit of her stomach. "And—and thank you."

  Jake pulled his eyes from the hilly road just outside of Bartlesville and glanced over at Annie. Her head was turned toward the passenger window and he couldn't see her face. She was being awfully quiet on the drive home. She'd hardly said a word since he had helped her out of the wheelchair the hospital had insisted she ride to the exit and into his car.

  Madeline was quiet, too, but that was because she'd fallen asleep almost as soon as the car had left the hospital parking lot. Jake looked in the rearview mirror and saw the baby dozing in her car seat, her head drooping forward at an uncomfortable-looking angle.

  Maybe Annie was sleeping, too. Jake glanced at her again. She evidently felt his eyes on her, because she met his gaze, then quickly looked away.

  "Are you feeling all right?"

  "Not too bad. I'm sore and a little woozy from the pain medicine."

  Now was obviously not a good time to get into a discussion about child custody. He was chomping at the bit to talk about it, but she wasn't in any condition to make decisions. He needed to bide his time.

  She winced as she shifted on the seat, angling her body more towards him. "You know, I really don't know anything about you."

  "You knew enough to select me as the father of your child."

  Annie's head abruptly turned away.

  Damn. He was supposed to be gaining her trust; not ticking her off. "Hey—I'm sorry. I have a bad habit of shooting off my mouth. I'm working on it."

  It was his turn to feel her gaze on him. "I take it you don't approve of single motherhood."

  "I've never really thought about it. What I don't approve of, I guess, is someone having my child without my knowledge or permission."

  "I didn't know you didn't know. I thought you were a regular donor" Annie stared straight ahead. "You act like I stole something from you."

  "Well, I guess I kind of feel like you did."

  "I'm as much of a victim of this situation as you are," Annie said stiffly. "I thought my donor had signed an agreement to stay out of my life."

  "How did you choose me?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, how does it work? Do they just give you a list of donor profiles and tell you to pick one?"

  "Pretty much. But none of the ones on the list fit what I was looking for. Dr. Borden asked me to describe what I wanted. When I did, he said he had just the right person in mind. He mailed me your profile, and, well, he was right."

  "So—what made you want me?"

  Annie shrugged. "You had a good family health history. And your educational level and profession indicated a likelihood you were somewhat intelligent."

  The dubious tone in her voice made him grin.

  "... And your physical description fit what I wanted." Jake glanced over at her. "And what, exactly, was that?"

  Annie looked down at her hands. "Someone tall, with dark hair and eyes."

  "Why was that part of your criteria?"

  Annie continued to study her manicure. Jake wasn't sure, but he thought her cheeks looked a little redder than before. She lifted one shoulder. "I don't know. I guess I just find it attractive."

  Did that meant she found him attractive? Jake silently cursed himself for caring. She no doubt had some other guy in mind, some guy she was carrying a torch for. He bet he could even guess who it was. "I suppose your exbusband fits that description."

  Her eyes flew wide open. "Nate? Oh, no! Nate has light hair and blue eyes."

  "Ah. So you were looking for his opposite"

  "He had nothing to do with it. We'd been divorced for years."

  "You just wanted a dark-haired child?"

  "Oh, that wasn't really the issue."

  "So what was?" He glanced at her curiously.

  Annie lifted her shoulders and looked away. "Fantasy, I suppose."

  "Fantasy?"

  She nodded. He couldn't keep from pressing for additional information. "You mean the sexual kind?"

  Her color heightened. "You're getting into a pretty personal topic here."

  "The fact that we've had a child together is already pretty personal, if you ask me."

  Jake was right. The thought that this man's sperm had been inside her was enough to make Annie break a sweat. There was something intensely primal about him anyway, despite his outward polish.

  Why did he have to be so good-looking? It was impossible to look at him and not think about sex.

  It had been a long time since she'd had any, Annie thought ruefully—too long, judging from the effect this man was having on her. What was wrong with her, having this kind of reaction to a man who posed such a threat to Madeline?

  Well, maybe the threat wasn't really to Madeline, she mentally amended. He posed more of a threat to her—a threat to take away the life she'd envisioned and built, a life that contained only her and her child.

  The thought put her on the offensive. "You have an unfair advantage over me in the personal information department. After all, I didn't pretend to be somebody else when we first met."

  His right eyebrow shot up. "I didn't pretend anything. You assumed I was your friend's grandson and I just played along."

  "Uh-huh. And you did the same thing with the doctor, I noticed. Too bad there wasn't a line on the donor form that described your ethics."

  A nerve ticked in his jaw. The observation gave Annie a great deal of satisfaction.

  "I don't like to play games." He spoke without taking his eyes from the road. "If you want to know anything about me, all you have to do is ask."

  "All right. What happened to your wife?" Good heavens, what had made her start with that question? It sounded like she thought he'd bumped her off.

  He was silent for so long that she thought he wasn't going to answer. "She died in a car crash, along with my parents."

  Annie's heart constricted. "Oh, how awful! Was it recent?’

  "It happened a little over two years ago."

  "Where?"

  "Just outside the airport in Tulsa. A drunk driver ran a red light."

  "Had you been married long?"

  "Seven years"

  "And ... you were undergoing fertility treatments?"

  Jake nodded. "Dr. Borden was her physician."

  "Mine, too."

  Jake shot her a dry look. "So I gathered."

  Annie hesitated. "You said the mix-up
at the fertility center was deliberate."

  Jake nodded grimly. "According to the clinic's director, Dr. Borden was forced into retirement because he was caught doing the same thing with another couple. In that case, though, no pregnancy resulted."

  "It's hard to believe he'd do something so unethical." Annie shook her head. "He seemed so nice—so intent on giving people just what they wanted."

  Jake's lip curled in a mirthless smile. "That appears to be the problem."

  "Can he be prosecuted?"

  "Sure. If we bring charges."

  "Do you think we should?"

  Jake sighed. "That was my first reaction. My second, really. My first was to go to Florida and beat the guy to a pulp."

  She looked at him curiously. "Sounds like you had a third reaction."

  "Yeah." He gazed straight ahead through the windshield. "I thought about Madeline."

  "And?"

  He hissed out a harsh blast of air. "And this is the sort of thing that would get a lot of media play. I don't want her existence to be labeled a mistake."

  I thought about Madeline. Dear Lord, he sounded like a father—a real father, the kind who put his child's best interests first. Annie didn't know if was the effect of the pain pills or the shock of the whole thing, but her throat grew thick with emotion.

  As Jake steered the car into the drive of the ranch, Annie realized she had one more question, a question that was burning inside of her, although she didn't know why. She swallowed hard and asked just as he pulled the car up to the house, "What was your wife's name?"

  His response was wary. "Why do you want to know?"

  "I don't know. I just do."

  He turned the key in the ignition. The motor died. "Rachel. Her name was Rachel."

  His voice was hushed, as reverent as if in prayer.

  Annie's throat grew thicker. He'd answered her underlying question, the one she had really wanted to know.

  He'd loved his wife. He loved her still. She could see it in the fine lines of pain around his eyes, in the softening of his lips at speaking her name. Annie's heart ached in an odd, undefinable way.

  She'd been a lucky woman, his Rachel. Not every woman got to be loved like that.

  Madeline could be, her mind prompted. A man who could love that deeply had the makings of a wonderful father.

  It should have been a comforting thought, but it wasn't. Everything about this man was unsettling. Jake made her want to run, yet at the same time, he held a dark fascination—a fascination that was as strong as it was disturbing.

  Chapter Nine

  "Steady, now." Jake tightened his grip on Annie's arm, but she still wobbled as he helped her up the steps to the porch.

  "My legs feel like a couple of wet sponges." She took another hesitant step. "Sorry I'm acting like such a wimp. I promise not be so high maintenance once I get inside."

  "You'd better be. The instruction sheet the nurse gave me says you're not supposed to walk without help for forty-eight hours."

  "Oh, I'm sure I'll be able to get around just fine after a little rest."

  "Not by yourself, you won't. I intend to see to it that you follow instructions."

  Annie shot him a look. "Oh, no. You're not one of those follow-every-instruction-to-a- kind of people, are you?"

  "When it comes to some things, I am." And apparently you're a bend-the-rules-all-over-the-place kind of woman. Jake thought grimly, pulling the key to the door from his pocket. Great, just great. Just the trait I'd have handpicked for the mother of my child.

  The thought made him look for Madeline. She was doing a bow-legged strut down the porch, heading for the hanging wooden swing in the yard.

  "Come on, Madeline."

  The child ignored him.

  "Come on, sweetie. Let's go inside," he called again.

  The baby started to climb up into the swing. Jake hesitated, unsure what to do. He couldn't relinquish his hold on Annie—she was about as steady as a toothpick in a tornado. On the other hand, he didn't know how to get the child to cooperate, and he didn't dare leave her outside unattended.

  Annie smiled over at the baby and motioned with her hand. "Come with Mommy, sweetheart."

  "Ma-ma-ma-ma" Grinning broadly, the baby obediently tottered over to Annie's side.

  "How the heck did you do that?" Jake grumbled, opening the door.

  "You have to have the Mommy touch."

  A low brown streak came charging out the door, startling Jake so much that he nearly bumped into the doorjamb. He turned around and realized it was Hot Dog, making a mad dash for the bushes to relieve himself.

  "Looks like poor Hot Dog was practically crossing his legs, waiting for us to get home."

  "Guess I don't have a Mommy touch-with animals, either," Jake muttered. The fact of the matter was, it had been such a struggle to get Madeline dressed and out the door that morning that he'd completely forgotten about the dog. He realized Annie was probably expecting a modicum of remorse. If he expected to make her believe he could be a responsible parent, he'd better show a little.

  "Sorry, there, pooch," he said as the dog came loping back, its skinny rat tail thumping. He glanced apologetically at Annie. "I, uh, don't know much about taking care of pets. I never had one."

  "Never?"

  "No."

  "Not even as a child?"

  Jake shook his head.

  "Not even a guinea pig? Or hamster?"

  'No „

  "A lizard, maybe?"

  He shook his head, then brightened. "I had some tropical fish in my office. But they all died."

  Annie shot him a pitying look.

  Damn. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. "Can't say that I ever missed having pets," he said gruffly. "Animals are just a nuisance."

  "You'd change your mind if you spent any time around them."

  The matter-of-fact, assured way she made the statement grated on his nerves. So did the appealing way her waist indented and her hips flared under his arm. She lurched against him as she stumbled on the threshold.

  He tightened his grip to steady her. His hand brushed her breast—a breast that felt surprisingly lush and full.

  She gazed up at him, her blue eyes wide. A flicker of sexual awareness flashed between them, as sudden and bright as a just-struck match in a pitch-black room. A burst of desire shot through him, intense and unexpected.

  Good grief. What a time and place to have his libido pull a Lazarus. He drew his hand back as if it had been burned.

  Annie steadied herself on the door frame. "Sorry. The medicine seems to have made me a little dizzy." "Well, then, we'd better get you to bed."

  Crimony. It was a completely normal thing to say to someone just released from the hospital, but it sounded so suggestive.

  "My room is the one next to Madeline's."

  "The one with the covered wagon?"

  Jake had seen it last night when he'd walked through the house after putting the baby to bed. The house was filled with curious antiques, but none were more curious than Annie's bed.

  "Isn't it great?" Annie said.

  "It's certainly unusual," Jake said cautiously, guiding her through the foyer.

  "The canopy is made from the frame of a real Conestoga. And not just any old Conestoga, either. It's the very one my great-great grandfather used when he moved from Missouri to Kansas."

  "It must have looked pretty odd moving across the prairie, covered with all that pink and green floral fabric," Jake said dryly, helping her through the doorway of her room.

  Annie grinned. "I'm not a purist when it comes to antiques. I like to add my own special touch to things."

  She sure did, Jake thought, as he helped her toward the bed—and her touch was more than a tad eccentric. It wasn't without its charm, though. The room brought to mind a gypsy tent, romantic and exotic and cozy. It smelled like Annie—soft and powdery. It looked like her, too-a colorful mix of rosy cinnamon and sage green, done in a hodge-podge.of florals and stripes and pl
aids. Nothing in the room matched, but it somehow all went together. If anything could actually go with a Conestoga top.

  The bed creaked softly as Annie sat on the edge of it.

  Her brow furrowed and her eyes creased with pain. "Are you okay?"

  She nodded, but she was clearly hurting. Jake hauled the sheet of medical instructions out of his pocket and scanned it. "It's time for your pain medicine. It says you need to take it with food. And it looks like you're on clear liquids for the rest of the day."

  "There's some chicken broth in the freezer." "Frozen soup?"

  "It's homemade."

  Jake didn't know anyone who made homemade soup. It seemed like a waste of time, considering you could just open a can.

  "What do I do with it?"

  "Just take off the lid and zap it in the microwave." She winced as she turned and reached for a pillow.

  "Here." He reached out and adjusted the pillows against the headboard, accidently brushing close against her, close enough to inhale the soft scent of her hair. Once again, a flash of sexual awareness flickered through him, fast and hot as lightning.

  He cleared his throat. "Do you need anything else?"

  She gingerly leaned back against the pillows. "Could you get me a nightgown? They're in the top drawer of the dresser."

  "Sure." He strode to the bureau against the wall and opened it, then swallowed hard. It was filled with sachet-scented lingerie—silky panties and matching bras in all the colors of the rainbow. Good grief—it looked like a Victoria's Secret catalogue. It was enough to make his mouth go dry, thinking of her in that exotic lingerie.

  "The nightgowns are on the right," she said.

  He awkwardly pawed through the lacy stuff, feeling like a voyeur, and pulled out something that looked like a gown. It was dusky rose, and when he pulled it out, he saw that it was short, no longer than mid-thigh, held together with the narrowest of straps. He felt like an idiot, handling it as she watched. He tossed it to her.

  "My robe is on a hook on the back of the closet door. Could you get it, too?"

  Nodding, he strode to the closet and pulled out a silk floral kimono.

  "Thanks," she said as he handed it to her.