"Number six, burn the bacon, eggs over easy and a large tomato juice," he said when the waitress turned to him. "And add a shot of vodka to that juice."
"Coming right up," the waitress said with a knowing grin before turning again to Hazel. "How about you, ma'am? Something else to drink besides the juice?"
"Just orange juice for me. I went to bed a lot earlier than my friend here."
Laughing, the waitress headed for the bar.
Jess stared into his cup, waiting for the throbbing in his head to ease. He would have given a month's worth of retainers to have this day over and done with.
"Jess, I've been thinking."
He glanced up to find her watching him again. Another of her annoying habits, like grinning when he wasn't in the mood to grin back, and prodding a man into talking about things he had no business sharing with anyone else.
"Sometimes that's not a good idea."
"I know," she said, sighing dramatically. "It's a bad habit I developed before I knew better, and now I can't seem to break it."
"Most habits are like that."
"True." She inhaled quickly; then, before she lost her courage, she blurted out, "I think you should give some thought to adopting Silvia's baby."
Shock rocked him hard, but training and habit kept it hidden behind the stare jurors had called intimidating.
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"Perfectly."
"I've been called a lot of things, but 'Daddy' isn't one of them, and for good reason. I'd be lousy at the job."
"How do you know, if you've never tried it?"
"I've never tried hanging, either, but I'm pretty sure hate it."
Hazel watched the cynical curl of his mouth and decided that he hadn't been born that way. Life had done that to him. Or rather, he'd allowed it to happen. Jess might have been terribly injured at one time in his life, but he hadn't let himself become a victim. She didn't think it was in him to give up that much control to anything or anyone.
"You're almost a second father to Jesse and Kelsey," she reminded him with a smile.
"They're different."
"Simply older."
Jess tried to stare her down, but she hung in there, her gaze locked with his and her mouth set. Sipping coffee had blotted off most of her lipstick, leaving her lips pale and vulnerable.
The need to taste her came again, stronger this time. He tamped it down.
"That's just the point. Babies need feeding, changing, holding."
"Very true."
"And a little girl … hell, I couldn't even braid her hair."
"That would be a terrible tragedy, I agree."
His mouth relaxed for an instant, then slanted into a reluctant grin. "You're not helping, O'Connor."
"Funny, I thought I was doing the best I could."
Jess sat back suddenly, his gaze roaming her face intently. The smile she'd wrung from him was still lurking, mostly in the slight curve of his mouth and in the hint of a crease next to the harshly controlled corners. It suited him, she decided. That cautious, even reluctant, surrender to amusement that came from him at unexpected moments.
"It was a mistake bringing you along, I can see that now. You'd make a joke out of a hanging."
"Only if I'm the one being hanged. And don't try to change the subject. Or, what do you lawyer types call it? Misdirect the witness?"
She saw the waitress approaching, both hands full of dishes. "Now where were we? Oh yes, Francisca. She won't be a baby long, you know. Pretty soon she'll be walking and talking."
"Yeah, and then what?"
Hazel waited until the waitress had deftly placed food and condiments in the proper places and left again, promising to return shortly with the drinks.
"Then she'll grow up, just like the rest of us." He slanted her an impatient look. "I don't know about you, O'Connor, but I grew up with a mother and a father and a couple of brothers. It wasn't a perfect family, but at least it worked at being normal."
"So?"
"So Francisca would grow up without a mother and—"
"It's been done before."
"—and a father who couldn't even hug her properly."
"I doubt that she'd mind as long as he did hug her."
"Damn it, O'Connor, stop being a bleeding heart for five minutes and face facts. A guy like me has no place trying to raise a kid alone – his own or anyone else's."
"So get married."
"Very funny."
The edge to his voice and the ice in his eyes warned her to back off. Jess rarely used the considerable power of his personality to intimidate, but when he did, the recipient took instant notice.
He'd heard it was usually that way with people who lived every day with an obvious handicap, especially men. Compensation, the textbooks called it. The need to be tougher and rougher and fiercely independent, so no one would dare pity them.
"I'm serious, Jess," she continued with slightly more force than necessary. "It's the 'in' thing to do now, didn't you know? Part of the AIDS backlash. I just read an article the other day that said marriage license bureaus all over the country were being swamped."
His jaw edged forward. "I've been married. Once was enough."
"Then hire a nanny. You can afford it."
"No thanks. I like my privacy."
"Aha!" she cried softly. "Now we get to the bottom line. You don't want a child rearranging your nice tidy life."
His eyes narrowed and grew even icier. "That's not it at all. If I really thought it was possible…" His voice trailed off for an instant before he added with far more force, "But it's not. No judge is going to give a baby to a guy like me, period."
"You've taken on tough cases before and won."
"Not like this one. As far as I know, there's not one precedent in the history of California law."
Hazel opened her mouth, then shut it again. It hurt her to admit it, but what he was saying was very likely true. She herself had been involved peripherally in such a case a year or so ago, testifying for the petitioner, a man with cerebral palsy who'd wanted to adopt a child with the same condition. His petition had been denied.
Jess saw the truth in her eyes. And the frustration. It matched his own. "I rest my case."
Jess shoved aside his plate and leaned back against the vinyl booth. When their eyes met again, Hazel sensed that he was already regretting the unexpected glimpse he'd given her into the man behind the intimidating scowl.
"What about Silvia?" she asked gently. "You heard what she said."
Pain flashed in his eyes before he dropped his gaze. "All that stuff about praying … believe me, I'm nobody's answer to a prayer."
"No comment." She teased him with a smile and won a scowl in return.
"I'll explain everything to her. She'll understand." The waitress returned with juice for Hazel and a Bloody Mary for him. Jess ignored the food and reached for his drink.
The vodka tasted foul on an already queasy stomach, like something dredged up from a storm drain. Flinching, he shoved it aside and washed away the taste with a slug of coffee.
"Serves you right," Hazel muttered as she picked up her fork and stabbed the pineapple garnish.
Watching, Jess felt a new flare of pain in his head and fire in his gut. "Aw, hell," he muttered.
At the same time the baby in the next booth started crying again, causing the young mother to cast worried looks at nearby tables.
"I'd better take him out," she whispered loudly to her husband.
"No, you sit still," he ordered with a smile in his voice. "I'll do it."
"We'll be right there," his wife assured him as he hoisted the crying infant from the high chair and tucked him against his shoulder.
"How old is he?" Hazel asked when the other woman raised her eyebrows in silent apology.
"Almost six months." She sighed. "Wouldn't you know he'd wait until our vacation to cut his first tooth?"
Hazel laughed softly. "Of course. It's Murphy's Law."
/> "Isn't it, though?" the other woman said on a sigh before urging her other two children to drink their milk and wipe their mouths.
While their mother was counting out the tip, the two youngsters slipped from the booth, jostling each other in the process.
The boy – the oldest, by the looks of him – stumbled against Jess's edge of the booth and would have fallen if Jess hadn't grabbed him.
"Sorry," the boy mumbled, righting himself. "It's my sister's fault. She's always trying to act like a big shot."
"I hear sisters can be like that," Jess agreed gravely. Interest sparked in the boy's blue eyes. "Do you have a sister?"
"Nope. Two big brothers, though. They were almost as bad."
"My little brother's already a pain."
"Maybe he doesn't mean to be."
The boy shrugged, then slid a glance toward his mother, who was greedily gulping the last of her coffee, as though fortifying herself for the next leg of the trip.
"What happened to your arm?" he asked, his gaze slicing to Jess's empty sleeve.
"I had an accident. The doctors had to amputate to save my life."
"What's amp … amp … that word?"
"Amputate means to cut off. The doctors cut off my arm because it was too badly smashed up to put together again."
"Yuck, that sounds gross!"
Jess managed a smile. "People tell me it was, but I was mostly asleep, so I don't remember."
"Don't you miss it? Your arm, I mean."
"Sometimes, but there's nothing I can do about it."
The boy frowned. "Yeah, but—"
"That's enough, Todd," the boy's mother declared in a low, embarrassed tone. "Daddy's waiting."
Taking both children firmly in hand, she met Jess's eyes reluctantly. "I'm sorry," she said, lifting her shoulders in a helpless shrug. "He doesn't mean anything."
"Forget it," Jess told her. "He's curious, that's all. Most people are, but not many have the guts to admit it."
Looking relieved, the mother murmured something about being late and shepherded the kids toward the cashier's counter.
"You handled that very well."
Jess glanced up to find Hazel watching him. "I've had practice."
"Some people might have blasted him."
"It was my own damn fault for not coming in for a tire change when I should have, not his."
"Do you miss racing?"
"What's the point of missing something you know you can't have?" Jess snatched his napkin from his lap and stood. "If you're ready, we might as well get this over with."
* * *
As soon as Dr. Benoit turned away from the window in her office, Hazel knew.
"Silvia didn't make it, did she?" she asked softly. The doctor shook her head, and Hazel thought that she'd been crying.
"She died early this morning. The night aide called me around four to say that Silvia was unconscious, but by the time I got here, it was all over."
Hazel drew a shaky breath. Jess's mouth went white. "Why didn't you call me?" he demanded of the doctor.
"Two reasons," she said calmly. "One, there wasn't time. And two, there wasn't anything you could have done for her."
Scowling, he walked to the window, braced his hand on the frame and stared at the concrete and steel beyond. "How did it happen?" he asked without turning.
"Technically, she had a stroke, but I think she really died because she didn't want to live any longer."
Jess didn't move, but somehow Hazel knew that he'd flinched.
"Dr. Benoit," she asked softly, "what about the baby? Have you notified Protective Services?"
"Yes, about an hour ago. Because adoption papers hadn't been drawn up, Francisca's caseworker is arranging for a foster placement. She said it would take a day or two to find the right situation. In the meantime—"
"In the meantime, we need to get that kid out of here." Jess turned suddenly, his shoulders squared and a dangerous glitter in his eyes.
The doctor shook her head. "I don't have that authority, Mr. Dante."
"Then give me the number of someone who does." Without asking permission, he picked up the phone and jammed it between his shoulder and jaw, his hand ready to punch out the number.
"It's on the pad, but I can't release the child to you or anyone without a written court order."
Jess slapped the phone onto the hook. "Where's the nearest fax machine?"
Benoit hesitated. "In the administration building." Jess shot Hazel an impatient look. "You'd better do what you have to do to get the kid ready, because neither one of us is leaving without her."
* * *
Making love in the back seat of a car had never been a favorite of Hazel's. Changing a baby in such confined quarters, however, had zoomed right to the top of the list of things she never wanted to do again.
"What's wrong with her now?"
Hazel glanced up from the high-tech disposable diaper she was trying to unstick from her fingers and answered Jess's glare with one of her own.
"Don't ask me. I'm just as new at this as you are." Lying half-bare on the blanket protecting the leather upholstery of Jess's beloved Mercedes, Francisca took a deep breath, hiccuped and started bellowing her outrage so loudly that the windows seemed to rattle. At the same time she bicycled her feet, making the task of changing her diaper an exercise in patience.
"It's okay, sweetheart. Just be patient with your Auntie Hazel okay?"
Bless her heart, little Francey had slept like a tiny pink-swaddled angel for the first hour, and then she'd started to squirm and fuss and generally exhibit signs of unhappiness.
At the first wail out of the baby's mouth, Jess had wanted to pull to the shoulder immediately. Hazel had convinced him, after a vigorous debate that had Francisca screaming even louder, to wait until the nearest rest stop. That had been ten minutes ago.
Jess scowled at her over the back of the seat. "Damn it, O'Connor," he ordered. "Do something. She's in pain."
"She's wet, that's all."
"Oh yeah? Then how come her face is all scrunched up like that?"
"Wouldn't yours be if your underdrawers were sopping wet?"
She nearly laughed out loud at the dumbfounded look on his face. "You have a point," he muttered as dusky color washed his olive complexion.
"Don't worry, she'll be fine – once I get this blasted thing on her properly."
"I still say you bought the wrong size."
"You heard me ask. The clerk recommended these."
"That clerk was seventy if she was a day. We should have gotten a second opinion."
Jess ran his hand through hair already furrowed by his long fingers. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn the man was on the verge of panic.
"Trust me, Jess. We got the right diapers."
"Then why is the kid still lying there buck-naked while you go through one after another, trying to make them fit?"
Hazel drew a quick breath. Beads of perspiration had broken out along her hairline, and her right leg had gone to sleep.
"Because I've only diapered two babies in my entire life, and I used cloth diapers and old-fashioned safety pins both times. These things were obviously invented by a committee of confirmed bachelors." Hazel used her teeth to rip the sticky tab from her thumb. The plastic tore, and she muttered under her breath as she awkwardly extracted another folded diaper from the box.
Still scowling, Jess rearranged his long body in the old car's bucket seat one more time. "Are you sure Cait and Ty are expecting us?"
"I'm sure. Ty eve promised to have Jesse's old port-a-crib cleaned up and waiting."
"What about clothes and things? All that junk you walked right by in the store."
"Everything's under control." Hazel used her chin to point toward the console. "However, this torpedo of yours is equipped with a phone. Call them yourself if you don't believe me."
His hand plowed the same furrows, wreaking more havoc. "I didn't say I didn't believe you," he muttered
. "I just don't like loose ends."
"Ends you haven't tied up yourself, you mean."
Hazel concentrated on restraining the wildly kicking baby legs long enough to slip the diaper under the round baby fanny. Francey's skin was like velvet, her bones small as a bunny's, but the adorable little girl had the lungs of an opera diva.
"Now, if I can just get this thing … now the other … there!"
"She's still crying," Jess accused harshly.
"In case you haven't noticed, I do have ears," Hazel murmured as she wrapped the baby in the snuggly blanket.
"It's okay, darling girl," she crooned. "Auntie Hazel's got you." Cooing softly, she lifted the warm bundle to her shoulder and patted the screaming little girl's back.
Francey gave one more yell, hiccuped, and then to Hazel's amazement shut her small mouth and closed her eyes. Scarcely daring to breathe, Hazel looked up and grinned.
She'd surprised Jess with his guard down and his emotions exposed. Hazel knew that she'd never seen such abject longing in anyone before. Not in the patients she'd treated, adult or child. And not in herself, even during her blackest moments.
She drew a quick breath, her grin fading. Like a fast freeze in a movie, they were locked in a glance. And then, quick as the blinking of his heavy eyelashes, he changed from a man who had suffered terribly, who was still suffering, to the remote, self-proclaimed cynic who worked hard at keeping her and everyone else at a distance.
"Guess you were right," he said a shade too gruffly. "About her crying, I mean."
He'd been right about their not leaving without the baby. It had taken most of the morning, but Jess had gotten his court order – signed, witnessed and faxed to the warden's office by Judge Henry W. Pollard.
Both Dr. Benoit and the Protective Services caseworker had been stunned that he'd managed so quickly – and the doctor was also pleased.
Hazel wondered how many other authority figures had bent the rules when Jess Dante had asked. Must have something to do with his size, she told herself. Or possibly that hard, flat, commanding tone that overrode the sexy timbre of his voice when he wanted something.
ONCE UPON A WEDDING Page 6
