Emergency: Parents Needed

by Jessica Matthews

  “I’m not sick.”

  She hesitated. “You aren’t?”

  “Something came up,” he began as an idea popped into his head and instantly took root. “Something personal.”

  “Oh.” She took a step backward. From the way her face turned a beautiful shade of pink as she eyed the bowl in his hand, she clearly regretted her kind action. “Then I’m sorry to bother you,” she said stiffly.

  “You aren’t bothering me at all,” he assured her. “In fact, you’re the very person I need, Maggie.”

  Before she could do more than stare at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside.

  Maggie didn’t know what threw her off center the most—the tingles his touch sent up her arm or the claim from the most independent, do-it-himself man she’d ever met that he needed her. Although her heart warmed at hearing the words, she also knew that being needed was her weak point. She hadn’t fully recovered from the last time a man had taken advantage of her good nature with those words.

  “Excuse me?” she asked politely as she found herself in his foyer, where she heard a baby wailing.

  “I don’t know who else to turn to,” he admitted. “When you showed up on my doorstep…trust me when I say you’re a gift from heaven.”

  She eyed him with suspicion, purposely staring at his face to avoid the sight of his wide chest, the well-defined muscles under his snug-fitting gray T-shirt, and the runner’s legs revealed by his athletic shorts. “A gift? Come on, Donatelli. This is me you’re talking to, not one of your weekend bimbos. Are you sure you haven’t been nipping the cough syrup?”

  “I haven’t taken a drop,” he insisted. “I just need a few pointers…”

  The wailing grew louder until she saw the source of the noise crawling toward them in a pink sleeper. The little girl with tousled light brown curls and a scowl on her pixie face dragged a lopeared bunny in a tight-fisted hand.

  “You’re babysitting?” she asked inanely.

  A pained expression crossed his face. “No. Well, I am, but not in the true sense of the word. She’s….” His voice faded and he rubbed his face.

  “She’s what, Joe?”

  He hesitated. “She’s…mine.”

  Joe? A father? It simply didn’t compute. He’d never given any indication, never even hinted that he had a child, but he was a handsome man who didn’t seem to lack female companionship. Nothing said he couldn’t have an ex-wife in the picture, even if he hadn’t shared that so-called picture with anyone.

  His ‘something personal’ was definitely personal, but his new status struck her the most. She did not want to be attracted to another single father. Once had been enough.

  “I thought you said you didn’t have any family,” she accused.

  “I don’t.” He jerked a hand through his hair, leaving several strands askew. “Breanna is…It’s a long story.”

  “I’m sure,” she muttered under her breath. Certain she should steer clear of this situation because it was nothing more than an emotional minefield, she edged toward the door. “I should go and leave you two to…” She watched the baby maneuver herself into a sitting position at Joe’s feet, where she continued to whimper. “To bond.”

  He reached out and held the door closed with one large hand. “Don’t go. Please.”

  “You’re busy, Joe, and I only stopped by to drop off the soup, which obviously wasn’t necessary.”

  “I need you. Breanna needs you.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said briskly, determined to stick to her non-involvement policy. “I just met her. What can I do?”

  “Help me figure out why she won’t stop crying. She’s been like this since I got her.”

  Breanna stared up at Maggie with water-filled eyes and hiccuped her sobs. Maggie steeled herself against the tears, but when the little girl dropped to all fours and crawled forward until she grabbed Maggie’s pant leg and pulled herself upright, Maggie knew she couldn’t walk away.

  She cast a disparaging glance at Joe before crouching down to the little girl’s level. “Hi sweetie,” she crooned. “What’s wrong?”

  Immediately, Breanna raised her arms and sniffled.

  Maggie’s heart hadn’t hardened enough to deny this precious and clearly unhappy baby a hug. Giving in to the inevitable, she lifted the youngster off the floor and tucked her expertly on one hip as she swiped Breanna’s tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong with your world, little one?”

  Breanna laid her head on Maggie’s shoulder and quieted.

  Joe mumbled something under his breath—something that sounded like ‘what wasn’t wrong?’

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  He rubbed his face at the same time his shoulders seemed to slump as if in relief. “Nothing.” Then, “She likes you.”

  Maggie would have been perfectly satisfied if the little girl had ignored her and crawled in the opposite direction. “She just recognizes a soft touch.”

  “Soft touch or not, do you mind staying for a while? Until she settles down for longer than thirty seconds and my ears stop ringing?”

  She wanted to refuse, but his hopeful expression, coupled with her own goal to begin building some sort of rapport with him, convinced her to agree. “OK, but only for a few minutes.”

  “Great. Have a seat while I fix her breakfast.”

  Maggie followed him into a small kitchen where the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. From the way he paused to frown, then sigh at the sight, she suspected he was normally as meticulous in his house as he was on the job. Clearly, his daughter had upset his entire routine and style of living.

  She sat at a table covered with pizza boxes and take-out containers as the little girl clung to her like a sandburr; nothing short of something drastic would convince her to let go, so Maggie simply let her hang on.

  “To be honest, I expected to find you with your head in the toilet, not taking care of a baby,” she commented, politely ignoring the mess.

  “After the past two days, I wish you had,” he said dourly.

  Maggie chuckled, somewhat amused that she was finally seeing a different side to the organized, everything-in-its-place Joseph Donatelli. “It can’t have been that bad.”

  “It was worse,” he said glumly, rubbing the two days’ worth of dark whiskers on his face before he began preparing baby formula with actions testifying to an obvious lack of experience. “I haven’t slept for more than a few hours at a time and neither has she. I honestly don’t know how she has the energy to keep going.”

  Strangely enough, his less-than-immaculate appearance only made him seem more human, more vulnerable, and far more appealing than he already was. He looked like a man in desperate need of a woman’s touch and she had to stop herself from wanting to be the one to give it to him. As much as she hated to think that he’d denied his own child, she couldn’t ignore the way he had to read directions for such a simple task. OK, so he didn’t talk about his daughter, but maybe he had a good excuse…Maybe her mother lived in another state; maybe he didn’t have access to his child until now, maybe it was too painful to discuss a baby who wasn’t a part of his life. But whatever the reason, as her partner, he deserved the benefit of the doubt.

  “You haven’t done this very often, have you?” she asked softly, noticing how he spilled the formula as he poured it into a bottle and struggled to attach the nipple.

  “Clearly, my incompetence shows,” he said wryly.

  “I wouldn’t call it incompetence,” she said, trying to minimize his obvious failing. “Awkwardness, perhaps, but if you do anything often enough, it will become second nature. Before long, you’ll be able to fix her formula in your sleep.”

  He cast a baleful glance in her direction. “Mixing formula is one thing. Understanding what to do to keep her from crying all day long is another.”

  “Given enough time, you’ll learn that, too,” she predicted. “Didn’t you spend any time with her whi
le her mom was around so she’d learn you weren’t a stranger?”

  “No.”

  “Then maybe you should call her and explain the problems you’re having,” she suggested. “She may—”

  “No.” He shook his head for emphasis. “I can’t.”

  How typical of the Joe Donatelli she knew. He could never admit failure, never admit he might be wrong or couldn’t handle a situation. She wanted to think his Italian heritage came into play, but she had enough males in her family to suspect his stubbornness was just a guy thing.

  “Of course you can,” she said impatiently. “Admitting you’re out of your depth isn’t the end of the world.”

  “Her mother’s dead,” he said flatly. “I’m on my own.”

  Dead? He had a far bigger problem than she’d realized…“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  He raked his hair with one hand. “That makes two of us.”

  “I assume it was recent,” she said slowly, testing his reaction.

  Silently, he brought a small bowl of baby cereal and a jar of strained peaches to the table, then mixed some of the formula into the cereal. His jaw was clenched, and Maggie waited for his answer.

  Finally, he nodded. “A week ago. Car accident on the other side of town. She apparently hydroplaned and struck a telephone pole.”

  Maggie thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. I remember reading about the accident in the newspaper. That was Breanna’s mother?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted gruffly. “That was Dee.”

  “If I remember right, the guys from Station Two responded.”

  “We did.”

  Suddenly, it all became clear. He’d been more taciturn than usual on that particular Friday when they’d worked together. She’d assumed his grumpiness had been because he’d pulled an extra shift at Station Two on his regular day off to cover their staff shortage, but obviously she’d been wrong.

  “And you were on the scene,” she guessed.

  Again he nodded, his eyes bleak. “Yes.”

  Maggie leaned back in her chair and stared at him as he began feeding Breanna, hardly able to reconcile everything she’d learned with her own perceptions. It was always difficult to lose a victim, but to know that individual on a personal level made it even more so. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “You should have told us.”

  “It wouldn’t have changed the final outcome.”

  “No, but we could have supported you in your loss.” Then she added, “Do the guys at Station Two know?”

  “I told them Dee and I were friends. Which we were.”

  “Friends who had a baby.” Her mind raced with scenarios and possibilities of why Joe hadn’t told anyone about his daughter. Either he didn’t trust anyone with the information or he was as shallow in his relationships as Arthur had been. Neither option sat well.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but you’d be wrong.” His voice was hard.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Just what am I thinking, Donatelli?”

  “That I walked out on her, leaving her to face her pregnancy alone, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”

  Pain appeared in his dark eyes for an instant before it disappeared. “The last time I saw Dee, she didn’t have a steady boyfriend and she certainly didn’t look or say she was expecting. Naturally, when she talked about her daughter while we were working on her…” He paused, then cleared his throat before he continued, “I thought she was confused and imagining things because she’d always wanted a houseful of kids.”

  Dee may not have been confused, but Maggie definitely was. Breanna was Joe’s daughter, yet when he’d known her mother, Dee hadn’t been seeing anyone and she supposedly hadn’t been pregnant.

  “I didn’t know Breanna existed,” he went on, “until Dee’s attorney contacted me the other day. I was apparently named in her will as Breanna’s guardian if anything happened to her.”

  Now the scenario made sense. Joe wasn’t the deadbeat dad she’d feared, denying the existence of his own child. He was a man who’d been granted custody of a friend’s baby. “I assume her father isn’t in the picture?”

  He visibly winced and for a long moment didn’t answer. When he finally spoke, he sounded weary. “According to Breanna’s birth certificate, you’re looking at him.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE WAS a father. The concept was so completely foreign to him that Joe couldn’t make sense of it no matter how many times he repeated the fact. A father. A dad. A parent. Fate was surely having a laugh at his expense.

  What the hell were you thinking, Dee? he silently railed for what seemed the hundredth time. You knew fatherhood wasn’t in my plans.

  He wanted to wash away the past few days as easily as he washed away the smoke clinging to his body after a fire, but life didn’t work that way. He had to deal with the aftermath as best as he could, and right now that meant doing whatever was necessary to keep Breanna calm when he’d rather howl with her.

  The only bright spot was that at this moment he wasn’t alone. Maggie was here, being an anchor at a time when he desperately needed one. Although, at the moment, his so-called anchor looked as if someone had pulled the rug out from under her.

  “You’re her father? Her real, biological father?”

  If the situation wasn’t so dire, he would have found humor in Maggie’s surprise. “So the paperwork says.”

  “The paperwork,” she repeated. “You mean, you don’t know for certain?”

  “No, I don’t. Dee and I…Our physical relationship was…” he winced as he chose his words carefully in the interest of full disclosure “…very short-lived. It didn’t take long for us to realize we were better friends than lovers, which was what we were during the entire time I knew her,” he insisted.

  She raised an eyebrow. “I see. How old is Breanna?”

  “Eleven months.”

  “When did you meet Dee?”

  He thought for a minute. “Not quite two years ago.”

  Maggie’s brow furrowed as if she were doing the math. “The timeframe fits.” From the doubt on her features, she didn’t believe his relationship with Dee had been based on friendship, not sex. Considering the child on her lap, if he wore her shoes, he wouldn’t either.

  Circumstantial evidence, in his opinion. “I know this situation doesn’t show me in a favorable light, but Dee and I were only friends,” he insisted. “And she wasn’t the sort of woman to sleep around.”

  “I’m not anyone’s judge and jury, Joe. You don’t owe me any explanations,” she said.

  For reasons he didn’t understand, Maggie’s opinion mattered. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him. Perhaps it was because he was still trying to find his footing with her as his new partner and feeling as if he was failing miserably. Perhaps it was because he wanted to see respect in her eyes when she looked at him. Perhaps he was afraid that if he wasn’t completely honest and utterly transparent, she’d leave him to face this alone. Right now, that was too frightening a fate to consider.

  “But the fact remains—and I’m not doubting you—Breanna could be yours.”

  He shook his head. “We had sex once—once—and it was very early in our relationship.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You know the drill. It only takes a single swimmer to create a baby.”

  “We were careful,” he insisted, not willing to believe their precautions had failed.

  “If you say so,” she said agreeably, as if she were only humoring him. “And if that’s true—and I’m not saying it isn’t—then you believe Dee’s trying to foist someone else’s baby on you?”

  “Yes. No.” He ran a hand through his hair. As close as they had become, it seemed out of character for Dee to have been secretly dating someone on a regular basis. If she hadn’t had a steady romantic interest, Breanna could have been the result of a one-night stand, in which case Dee might have been too embarrassed to admit it.

  More importantly, though, after all the hours they’d spent talking about t
heir shared histories, it seemed odd that she’d pass another man’s baby off on him when she’d known his decision about parenthood was unchangeable. “I don’t know. She never mentioned she was keeping company with anyone else, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t.”

  And yet, realizing that she’d hidden her pregnancy from him after they’d been so open with each other was a huge disappointment.

  “Then I hate to tell you this, Donatelli, whether you want to believe it or not, you’re the logical suspect.”

  Admittedly, he was, but there still had to be some mistake. Birth control was something he believed in wholeheartedly and he never took shortcuts or relied on the woman to assume responsibility. Because he didn’t think he could be too careful, he always controlled that aspect of his life. No exceptions. Ever.

  “I asked the lawyer for a paternity test.”

  “And?”

  “He’ll make the arrangements and will let me know where to be and when.”

  Her expression was inscrutable. “What happens in the meantime? DNA testing could take a few weeks.”

  According to the lawyer, Joe was looking at a two-to-three-week wait, give or take, and that wasn’t counting the time to schedule an appointment. As this situation didn’t warrant immediate, overnight service, Dee’s attorney wasn’t in favor of rushing the process, so Joe guessed it would take three to four weeks from start to finish.

  Four weeks to assume the monumental task of looking after Dee’s daughter. Four weeks to know the truth. Four weeks that seemed like an eternity.

  “I’ll do the best I can,” he said honestly.

  “And if you’re not her father?” She raised an eyebrow. “What then, Donatelli?”

  Funny how he was learning that when she called him by his last name, she was exasperated with him. Hell, right now he was exasperated with himself and everyone else, especially with Dee for dumping him in this no-win situation.