Bachelor Father

by Jean C. Gordon

  “I didn’t do anything. We sat and I watched the clock until it was time for Jake’s appointment with Dr. Blake. The doctor examined him, and sent us right to the hospital.

  “But the nurse said the emergency room physician admitted Jake, not Dr. Blake.”

  “Dr. Blake doesn’t have hospital privileges at St. Peter’s. He uses Albany Medical Center. I . . . I couldn’t take him to Albany Med. Mom, Kate . . . both of them were at Albany Med.”

  He could see from Molly’s face that she understood why he couldn’t have taken Jake to Albany Med. Brett stood and paced again. “They took x-rays and blood tests. Jake didn’t fuss or cry.” Brett bowed his head. “That scared me,” he admitted.

  “You were with him,” Molly said. “He felt safe.”

  Brett stopped his pacing by Jake’s bedside. Jake’s trust in him was awesome. “If his fever doesn’t break, they want to do a spinal tap tomorrow.”

  Molly joined him. “I slipped my hand under the tent and felt his cheek when I got here. He didn’t feel very warm. Maybe his fever has broken.”

  Brett and Molly watched over Jake in silence until a creak of the door and a flood of light interrupted. A nurse entered. “I need to check his vitals,” the nurse said. She took Jake’s temperature and blood pressure and adjusted the I.V.

  “Unca?” Jake awoke and looked to Brett for reassurance.

  “I’m right here, Buddy.”

  “Boo?”

  “Me, too, Jake. I’m here.”

  Jake returned his thumb to his mouth and closed his eyes.

  “How’s his temperature?” Brett asked the nurse.

  “Much better,” she answered. “It’s only running about ninety-nine.”

  “Then, he’ll be all right?” Molly prompted.

  “The pediatric resident is on her way up to make late rounds,” the nurse answered. “You can talk with her. Did you plan to spend the night with Jake? I’ll have housekeeping send up a couple of cots.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Brett and Molly spoke simultaneously.

  “You decide and let me know,” the nurse said diplomatically before slipping out the door.

  Brett stepped closer to the bed. “I’m not leaving Jake here all alone.”

  “He won’t be alone.”

  “You know what I mean. What if he wakes up and I’m not here?” Molly seriously expected him to leave Jake? Unbelievable. And she was the one who was supposed to be the child expert.

  “The nurse can call you if he wakes.”

  Brett paced the room. He didn’t need this. What he could use right now was Molly’s support. He stopped and confronted Molly. “It took you, what, an hour to drive back here in the snow? Jake could be hysterical in that amount of time.”

  Molly placed her hand on his arm. “You’re tired.”

  He pulled away. Sure, he was tired. He’d hardly slept in forty-eight hours, but he had to think of Jake. “You go ahead, leave.” He waved her away.

  Molly didn’t move. “We could go to the condo. It’s only a couple of minutes away. There’s an extra bed in the spare room. You’d get a lot more rest there than on a little cot here at the hospital.”

  “I’m not—”

  The door opened again and the pediatric resident walked in. “Hi, I’m Dr. Chou. The nurse said you were waiting to talk with me.”

  Brett nodded.

  The doctor lifted Jake’s medical chart from the holder at the foot of the bed. “From the last set of vitals, I’m tentatively ruling out meningitis. Our little patient seems on the mend. I’ll take a quick listen to his lungs, and then answer any questions you have.” Looking at Jake fast asleep, she said, “You must be anxious to get home and get some rest yourselves.”

  First Molly, now the doctor. Was he being overprotective? Nah. He had a right be concerned, to stay if he wanted. His Mom would have been here for him.

  Brett moved to the bedside with the doctor, and Molly followed, stepping close to him to see around the doctor. Brett read the obvious concern on her face and placed his hand over hers on the bed, taking comfort himself from her nearness.

  When doctor placed the stethoscope on his chest, Jake squirmed but didn’t wake up. “Sounds good,” she said, smiling at Brett and Molly. If his progress continues, I expect he’ll be able to go home tomorrow.”

  “That soon?” Brett asked.

  “I don’t see why not,” the doctor replied. “Kids are pretty resilient.”

  “He won’t have a relapse or anything once I get him home?” Brett asked the resident.

  “I assure you, we won’t send him home with you unless he’s well enough. And the nurses will give you instructions for his care until you take him for a follow-up appointment with your doctor.”

  “Okay.” Brett shifted his weight to other foot and squeezed Molly’s hand. “Thank you doctor.”

  After the doctor left, Molly slid her hand away from Brett’s. “Now are you willing to leave? You’re going to need some rest to keep up with Jake tomorrow if he’s released.”

  “You think?” Brett said with a half smile. “I guess if Jake’s even half his usual self, I’ll need to be awake. We’ll go to the condo.”

  He gave the condo phone number to the nurse at the desk and asked her to call if Jake’s condition changed at all for the worse. “You want me to drive?” he asked Molly.

  “No, I’ll take my car, so I’ll have it for work tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, work.” His up mood dampened. He’d thought she might stay home and help him with Jake. Actually, her going to work was better. He needed to be able to care for Jake himself. Molly wouldn’t be with them forever.

  Molly unlocked the condo door and led the way in. Strange, she and Brett and Jake had been living together as a family for six weeks, but tonight, here in her condo, Brett seemed like a guest, even a date.

  She shrugged out of her coat and turned to take his jacket. Brett’s a half-lidded, almost sensual, stare stopped her. She fingered her cross. Whatever was she thinking? The man was half-dead on his feet. His look had to be sheer exhaustion.

  Molly reached for his jacket. “You probably want to get right to sleep.” A lingering smell of the outdoors and Brett’s Stetson cologne clung to his coat, giving her the urge to bury her nose in the satin lining.” Lord, she must be on the verge of exhaustion herself to be coming up with these thoughts. “I’ll hang up our coats and get you some sheets and blankets from the linen closet.”

  He pushed a strand of hair back from his face. “I’m too wired to go to sleep yet.”

  He wasn’t the only one who was wired. The air fairly cracked with electricity. “I could put the late news on, or make some tea or cocoa,” she said.

  Maybe something mundane like drinking tea would defuse the static energy that hung heavy between them, threatening to zap the tenuous control Molly had on her emotions. Tonight had been one of the most frightening experiences of her life. It must have been even worse for Brett.

  His intense gaze followed her movements. She shut the closet door, feeling completely exposed under his studied watch. Molly swallowed. Get your imagination under control, girl.

  “How about a beer?” she asked. “I’ll check the refrigerator. I mean, I don’t think the Reynolds will mind. I’ll replace it.” She started toward the kitchen.

  “I’m fine,” Brett said.

  “It’s no trouble,” she reassured him, hating the little squeak that found its way into her voice. “You’ve had a rough day.”

  She went into the kitchen, glad for the door separating them. Molly filled the tea kettle and took a beer from the refrigerator. She tried to twist off the top, but succeed only in scraping her finger. She never could twist the tops off twist-off bottles. Tears of frustration filled her eyes as she rummaged noisily through the silverware drawer for a bottle opener.

  “Molly?”

  She turned.

  Brett held him arms open to her. “Come here,” he said in a
low voice.

  She hesitated, blinking back her tears.

  “I didn’t get my evening kiss tonight,” he cajoled.

  The smile that had started across Molly’s face at the mention of Jake daily ritual halted when she caught the glint in Brett’s eye. Her insides turned to mush. For her own good, she should get as far away from him as possible. But her feet seemed glued to the floor.

  “Come here,” he repeated more urgently, his request ending with a whispered, “I need you.”

  Had he said he needed her or had she imagined it? She moved into his arms, feeling some of his tension relaxing as he lowered his lips to hers. This was no ritual kiss. Brett crushed her to him and kissed her fiercely, almost desperately.

  A brief thought that she should stop him penetrated the pleasureful haze. She pushed gently at his shoulders. He held her more tightly, as if he’d never let her go. Molly gave into her need to be needed.

  He lifted his lips from hers and whispered, “I . . . I don’t want to be alone tonight.” His voice was husky with a need that transcended his attraction to Molly.

  “I’ll be here, just down the hall,” she said. The soft light backlit his figure forming a warm aura that seemed to flow from him to her.

  “Molly.” His voice cracked, halting the current flowing between them. They stood motionless, fingers entwined. She squeezed his fingers. “Molly,” he repeated. “Maybe you should get those blankets for me to make up the couch.

  Brett awakened with a start, somehow knowing that Molly had already left the condo. He’d kind of expected she’d be gone this morning. She’d need space to weigh everything that was happening and put it in its proper place. Molly wouldn’t take their mutual attraction lightly. Neither did he, for that matter. The loss he’d felt when he’d awoken knowing she’d already gone made him realize how much he’d come to rely on her being there for him. How much he was falling for her.

  He rolled on his back and thought about their kiss last night. He couldn’t wait until tonight, to see her again. His instincts were telling him she was “the one.” He’d never felt this strongly about a woman before.

  With a pang of guilt, he sat up on the edge of the bed. He been so absorbed with his thoughts of Molly, he’d forgotten all about Jake. Brett looked at the clock. Nine-ten. He’d better get to the hospital if he wanted to be there when the doctor made morning rounds. If the night had gone as expected, Jake should be released today.

  Chapter Eleven

  Molly sat at her computer. What a chicken. She’d put her voicemail on forward all day long to avoid talking with Brett. He’d left her a message that the hospital had released Jake. The joy at hearing the good news had made her reach for the phone to call him back. The memory of last night had stopped her.

  How could she have come so close to letting her guard down? All because he’d seemed to need to be with her. Neither her mind nor her emotions were ready to sort out the rest yet. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She couldn’t let herself fall into the same trap her mother had, trading herself to a man who didn’t love her in return.

  She should go home and face him. Short of running away, she’d have to face him sometime. But first, she had to set things back in order, separate her personal feelings from her professional responsibilities. She had a job to do. If only she could get last night’s kiss to stop running through her mind. She’d really let down all of her defenses, and without knowing what feelings — if any Brett — had for her.

  Sure, she knew he felt something. Sharing the responsibility for Jake, they’d become friends, good friends. But if Tina’s tales of Brett’s reputation were even partly true, he might not put any significance on last night’s kiss. Good friends sometimes got carried away. It didn’t have to happen again. Wouldn’t happen again. Why make a big deal about it?

  “Molly, are you done with the book?” Charles interrupted her thoughts.

  “Almost.” Molly studied Jake’s official adoption photo, taken by Korean Child Welfare before he’d left Korea. He’d changed so much in nine months. The picture on her computer screen showed a baby not the independent little boy Molly knew.

  “I’ve got a meeting scheduled tonight with the new families,” Charles reminded her.

  “I know.” She reluctantly typed Jake’s information under his picture with a gloomy certainty that some other family would see the photo and ask for him. Who could resist that adorable smile?

  Molly had searched furtively for a good reason to leave Jake’s page out of the December Waiting Children book. By next month, Brett’s application might be approved and Jake wouldn’t have to be included.

  “Molly, if it’s too difficult for you, I can finish up the book.”

  The sympathetic look on Charles face made her more determined not to let her personal feelings impinge on her professional life. “No.” She shook her head. “You’re doing enough already.

  As Brett’s new caseworker, Charles was doing all he could to speed up Brett’s paperwork. He’d even asked the director of adoptions about excluding Jake’s listing from the Waiting Children book. But the director had remained adamant. Because of the unusual circumstances, her counterpart at KCW would be certain to check for Jake’s listing in the copy he received.

  “The book is my job. I’ll finish it,” she said resolutely, ignoring the pang inside telling her that by listing Jake as available to other adoptive parents, she was betraying Brett’s trust.

  Molly ran a spell check on the new listings she’d added and made the needed corrections. As she deleted duplicate information in one of the listings, the temptation to delete Jake’s entire listing tugged at her. It could be an honest mistake. But it wouldn’t be.

  “Charles, if the printer’s clear, I’m going to send the new book pages now.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She clicked the print icon.

  “Hey,” Molly called with forced cheerfulness from the front room. “I’m home.” When she got no answer, she headed to the kitchen. Maybe Brett was as reluctant to face her as she was to face him. He probably considered last night a mistake, a moment of weakness best forgotten. Her heart plunged at the thought. She took a deep breath, pasted a smile on her face and pushed open the kitchen door.

  The kitchen was empty. Brett must be upstairs with Jake. That’s why he hadn’t heard her come in. Granted this slight reprieve, Molly busied herself starting dinner. As she reached for the container of hot peppers in the cupboard above the stove, an arm slipped around her waist.

  “Eeek,” she shrieked and dropped the peppers, jar and all into the pot of chili.

  “Gotcha,” Brett said, his warm breath ticking her ear and his spicy cologne mingling with the spicy aroma wafting from the stove.

  “Brett!” She pushed at his hand.

  He tightened his grip and drew her against him.

  Assailed by the heat of the stove in front of her and the warmth of Brett’s embrace behind, Molly envisioned herself melting to nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

  “Did you miss me today?” Brett asked, his voice low and so very close.

  Mustering every ounce of self-control she possessed, Molly resisted the urge to turn in his arms. “The peppers,” she said. “I’ve got to get the pepper jar out of the chili.”

  “I’ll get it.” Brett reached around her to the drawer and pulled out a ladle. He scooped the jar from the pot. “You’re supposed to take the peppers out of the jar before you add them to the chili,” he teased. “Perhaps, in the future, you’d better leave the cooking to me.”

  The future. In the future, she wouldn’t be here. She wiped her eye. The onions she’d added to the chili must be pretty potent, the way her eyes were watering. “Funny, real funny,” she quipped to conceal how his playful words affected her. “Now, why don’t you make yourself useful and rinse that jar off.” She waved her stirring spoon at the dripping ladle Brett held suspended over the counter.

  He eyed the growing puddle of chili sauce. “O
pps, I’d better clean up. You wield a pretty mean spoon there.” Brett laughed as he stepped back behind her and slipped his free hand back around her waist for a squeeze.

  “Get,” she said playfully, waving the spoon again.

  He went to the sink, washed off the jar and opened it with a flourish. “Here you go.” He added the whole contents of the jar to the chili.

  “Brett! You poured a half jar of dried peppers in. Don’t you think that may be a few too many?”

  “Nah, I always use that much. It’ll be fine.”

  “For you, maybe, but what about me? What was he trying to do incinerate her from the inside out in three easy steps. Step one, last night. Step two, fire chili tonight. Step three . . . She swallowed hard at the possibilities for step three.

  “And Jake?” She managed to finish her sentence. “Jake can’t eat this chili.” Jake. She’d been so caught up in the playful banter with Brett, she hadn’t even asked about Jake. “How is he?”

  “His fever is gone. You’d hardly know he was so sick yesterday. We played all afternoon, and he didn’t go down for his nap until after four.” Brett had moved back behind her, once again trapping her between the heat of the stove and the heat of his closeness. “I was up checking on him when you came in. He’s as fast asleep as he was last night when the doctor examined him. I doubt an earthquake would wake him.”

  “About last night.” Molly plunged in the opening.

  “Brett wrapped both arms around Molly’s waist and nuzzled a sensitive spot under her ear. “Yeah, last night.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I just want you to know that it won’t affect our arrangement.”

  “Hmmmm?” Brett continued to nuzzle her neck.

  Emotions as heady as the mixture on the stove swirled through Molly. “I.” She cleared her throat. If only she could clear her head, too. “I know it was just the moment. I didn’t read any more into that that. I mean, I won’t do anything to stop the annulment, or anything.”

  He stopped cold. “I wasn’t exactly thinking about the annulment at the moment,” he said sarcastically.