Jackpot Baby

by Muriel Jensen

  “Saw his car in front of your place when I left the Heartbreaker at one o’clock this morning. All the lights were out.”

  “Well, that must have been one of the rare moments when we were sleeping—separately,” she added with emphasis, “because the baby kept us up most of the night.”

  He nodded philosophically. “I guess they do that. Cute little guy.” He gave the sleeping baby a smile, then went to the back booth.

  It was impossible to tell by looking at Dean that he was now a millionaire. Of course, she was, too, and she looked the same as she had yesterday. Excitement rippled inside her at the thought. The baby had so consumed her attention yesterday and this morning that she’d almost forgotten her good fortune. She was a millionaire!

  She was enjoying the thought when Luke walked in, his shoulders and his hat frosted with snow. He went straight to the carrier as Shelly poured his coffee and placed it on the counter where he always sat, second stool from the end.

  “How’d he do last night?” he asked softly. Then he caught Shelly’s eye and winced. “You don’t look as though you did very well.”

  Her eyes burned and she felt hungover, though the strongest thing she’d had to drink was diet cola.

  She placed a little bowl of creamers near his coffee cup and smiled flatly into his face as he swept off his hat and straddled the stool. “Someone thought it would be a good idea if I kept Max overnight. So I didn’t get much sleep.”

  “Wasn’t the doc any help?”

  “He was the only reason I got the hour or two I did get.”

  “I’m sorry.” Luke sipped his coffee and made a sound of approval. “I promise I’ll get through to Pine Run today if I have to ride the snowplow over.”

  “That would be good, Luke. You having a waffle this morning?”

  “Yeah. One egg and a side of sausage.”

  She called the order back to Dan and hung the ticket on the wheel.

  Several reporters came in along with Henry Faulkner, who’d once owned the hardware store but was now retired, and Sylvia Rutledge, who owned the hair salon. Both were now Main Street Millionaires also. Henry went to the back booth to sit with Dean.

  The morning rush was on. It was half an hour later before there was enough of a lull that she could stop and look around to assess the situation. She took the coffeepot in one hand and the water pitcher in the other and started her rounds.

  She noticed odd behavior in the back booth. And several odd glances at the counter. Sylvia had passed Luke the front page of the Plain Talker in a curiously surreptitious way. Shelly ignored it, thinking they were probably just discussing another front-page article about the Main Street Millionaires.

  Then she saw Dean and his cronies muttering and grinning as they watched her approach, table by table, then a mad scrambling to hide the newspaper as she reached them.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, ignoring the cups held out toward her.

  “Nothing,” Henry replied innocently. “Why would something be going on?”

  “You’ve all been watching me.”

  “Well, you’re gorgeous, Shell, you know that,” Finn Hollis replied. He was a retired librarian and the third member of the back-booth triumvirate. “We’re all a little bit in love with you.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes, still withholding coffee. “Why did you hide the newspaper?”

  “Oh…” Dean stammered, “We…ah…we know you’re just tired of articles about the lottery and we…”

  Dean was turning red. He always turned red when he lied about the fish he’d caught, the woman he visited regularly in Pine Run, the money he won in Tahoe. And he was lying again.

  “Let me see it,” she insisted.

  Dean held his cup right up to the spout of the coffeepot she held away. “Please, Shelly. We’re just a bunch of hardworking guys and we can’t start the day without…”

  She held firm. “I want to see the paper.”

  Dean put his cup on the table and held a hand up to Finn, who had scrambled to conceal it. Finn handed it to Dean, who held it up so that Shelly could read the headline.

  Jackpot Baby Finds Millionaire Momma, it said in bold block print. Then underneath in slightly smaller print, the subhead read, Handsome Houseguest Makes It Three.

  Shelly gasped and fell into a chair just opposite the booth to read the article. It had been written by Harvey Brinkman. She put aside thoughts of murder to concentrate on his copy.

  Shelly Dupree, owner of Jester’s The Brimming Cup and one of its Main Street Millionaires, returned to the coffee shop Wednesday afternoon after depositing her lottery winnings to find an abandoned baby on the counter. The baby is a six-month-old named Max who appears to be in perfect health, except for a slight fever Dr. Connor O’Rourke suspects is related to teething.

  O’Rourke joined the Jester Medical Center staff on Saturday. He graduated cum laude from the UCLA School of Medicine in Westwood, California, where he met Nathan Perkins, director of the center. He is a family practitioner with a specialty in pediatrics.

  Ms. Dupree, known around the county for her Dutch apple pie and her sunny disposition, was asked by Sheriff Luke McNeil to take the baby home when he was unable to contact Child and Family Services in Pine Run. Telephone service was down again due to the storm. Ray Livingstone, director of Canyon Telephone, promises that service will be back on line by the end of the week. Efforts are also being made to import cellular telephone towers so that this service may be enjoyed with some dependability by the consumers of northeastern Montana.

  The good doctor volunteered to spend the night with Ms. Dupree to help care for the foundling. It’s a comfort to know that the good doctor comes to Fallon County not only with impressive credentials but with a generous nature, as well.

  So far there is no information on the identity of the baby’s natural mother.

  Shelly folded the paper carefully, then smacked Dean on the arm with it before handing it back. She heard herself emit a high-pitched shriek of complete exasperation. “Of all the tabloid-reeking, sensation-seeking, inaccurate, completely unnewsworthy…!”

  The bell over the front door rang as Connor walked into the coffee shop. She could see from across the room that his eyes were as bleary as hers, though they lent him a sort of smoldering sexuality that stopped the words in her throat. She saw that her morning paper was rolled up in his fist like a telescope.

  So, he’d read it, too. He must be furious, she thought. He must want to kill her, and then the reporter, and then whoever had given him that information. Her money was on the pretty little receptionist at the medical center.

  Everyone who’d been staring at Shelly while she had her tirade had now shifted their attention to him. He tossed the paper on the counter, scanned the room and spotted her standing with the coffeepot near the back booth.

  She hurried toward him, babbling. “I’m so sorry! I’ve called the paper on the reporter so many times, and he’s been censured over and over, but he’s got this tattletale-news mentality and he’s just impossible to stop!” She lowered her voice as she drew closer and saw the intensity of emotion banked in his eyes. “I’ll take care of everything. I know this isn’t the kind of impression you wanted to make your first week here. God knows I’ve worked hard to preserve my…”

  CONNOR WAS SURE she was about to tell him that she’d worked hard to preserve her reputation, and for reasons he couldn’t quite define, that sent him over the edge.

  He’d had a long, sleepless night, and it hadn’t been entirely the baby’s fault. The first time Shelly had awakened him last night, she’d donned a robe and their conversation had been relatively brief.

  The second time, however, she’d been upset and forgotten the robe. She’d awakened him wearing a thigh-length flannel shirt, and though it had been too voluminous to show him any detail of her breasts and hips, the fabric had clung occasionally, suggesting curves and hollows and making him desperate for a glimpse.

  He�
�d looked into her sleepy hazel eyes and talked about babies and families while feeling lonesome for familiar things. Then she’d taken the baby from him and walked away on bare, slender legs—an image that had haunted him until he heard her get up again and prepare to leave.

  He’d wanted to get up, too, but he didn’t want to do anything to draw her attention. At least until he’d had a cold shower.

  Then he’d read the news story and laughed.

  He’d come into the restaurant to ask her if she wanted him to take the baby to the center, where he’d be certain to sleep more comfortably, and he heard her hotly denying the veracity of the story, desperate to make her customers believe that their night together had been innocent.

  It had, but it annoyed him to see the desperation in her eyes as she tried to explain. Irritated him that she was certain he’d be angry about the news story and was trying to placate him with promises of vindication.

  And it really ticked him off that she could walk up to him this morning, look into his eyes and reveal nothing of the sexual frustration he felt after spending the night in the same house with her.

  Something inside him demanded that he change that.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her to him with one deft yank and, as her eyes widened in astonishment and her lips parted in a little cry of surprise, he kissed her with all the emotion roiling up in him. He felt her resist for an instant, then soften, and every instinct he had for persuasion went into his efforts.

  He heard gasps from the women and shouts of encouragement from the men. When he eventually freed her mouth and took a step back, Shelly was limp in his arms. The place was silent.

  She finally seemed to come to and opened her eyes with an angry snap. He kissed her once again quickly, briefly.

  “I’ll take Max to the center with me,” he said, catching the handle of the carrier. “See you at home tonight.”

  He took great pleasure in walking away with the baby as she stared at him with her mouth agape, all her customers whistling and applauding.

  He was not at all surprised when she burst in on him on his coffee break. It was late morning and he’d already treated a broad variety of ailments in the older population, stitched a big toe and a left forearm, and sent a compound fracture to the hospital in Pine Run.

  Max was awake and they sat together on a blanket on the floor in the upstairs storage room while Connor ate the peanut butter sandwich he’d made at Shelly’s and Max played with a little rubber duck that squeaked.

  She barged in without knocking, her coat hanging open over the cobbler apron that covered her jeans and a white sweater. She’d put on lipstick, he noted. It was a raspberry color that seemed to brighten her cheeks, as well.

  “What were you doing?” she demanded as she strode into the room and stood in front of him. The baby shook the duck madly in one hand and raised the other one to her.

  Her expression changed from fury to delight in an instant, and she was completely distracted by the reaching baby. She bent down and lifted him into her arms.

  “How are you, sweetheart?” she asked in a crooning voice. “Did you finally get some sleep? I’m sorry you have to spend the day with this horrible man.” She said that last in the same sweet voice she’d used to greet the baby.

  Max hit her on the chin with the duck and laughed.

  She took the duck from him and tapped him on the nose with it. He laughed again.

  She wasn’t a woman who didn’t want children, Connor saw in a sudden glimpse of insight. She simply thought her life wouldn’t allow it.

  The baby took the duck from her and tossed it onto the blanket Connor had spread. She put him down to play with it. He knelt on all fours, apparently contemplating the secret to crawling.

  “Why did you do that?” she demanded of Connor in a sharp whisper. “I was trying to avert gossip after that ridiculous bit of yellow journalism, and you come in and act like…like…”

  “A man who’s interested in you?” he suggested helpfully.

  She angled her chin stiffly. “That was pretty emphatic for simple interest.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you noticed.”

  She frowned at him. “What are you saying?”

  He spread both arms. “I thought that was clear. I’m interested in you. More than a little.”

  She stammered. “I…it…what do you mean?” she finished in a very satisfying state of confusion.

  He shrugged as though it should be clear. “I have a crush on you.”

  She made an impatient sound. “A crush? What do you mean, a crush? No one has crushes anymore! This is the age of one-night stands, or, if you’re very discerning, sex on the third date!”

  She was upset.

  “Well, I moved too fast the first time I thought I was in love,” he said honestly, “and I’m determined to do it right now that I have a second chance.”

  “No,” she said firmly. “I’m not a second chance. You do not have a second chance. At least not with me.”

  “Come on,” he chided. “You know that isn’t true.”

  “It’s true! I’m telling you, it’s true! I am not available! I have a business to maintain. I don’t want to settle down with the children you want to have! And for the first time in my life, I have a chance to travel and do things and I’m going to take advantage of it!”

  He nodded. “And you should. But why does that preclude romance?”

  “Because romance is intended for the purpose of finding a permanent relationship! I am not going there.”

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he said gently, “but you are there. I felt the tip of your tongue when I kissed you. You put your hands to my waist and they wanted to explore. I could feel it.”

  She was speechless for a moment, then she swept her hand in an arc in front of her as though trying to erase what he’d said.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said finally. “This is over today. Luke will get CFS to take the baby and I won’t need your help anymore.”

  “Our attraction will remain,” he said, “whether or not there’s a baby drawing us together. And this is a small town. We’re bound to keep bumping into each other. Sooner or later you’ll need a flu shot or an antibiotic or…”

  Shelly was determined to nip this in the bud. She put on her most superior expression—one she’d cultivated for using on truckers or salesmen passing through who thought a small-town waitress would be eager for their attentions.

  “If I need medical help,” she said coolly, “I’ll go to Pine Run. And I’m sure the fact that I’ve just banked over a million dollars has contributed substantially to my attraction for you. I’m not an idiot, Connor.”

  She’d expected that accusation to either anger him or offend him. She was surprised when he appeared to be amused instead.

  “While it’s true that I’m not a millionaire,” he said, “my father left me a substantial inheritance, which I’ve invested wisely, and though pediatrics doesn’t pay as well as neurosurgery, Nathan made me an attractive offer to relocate to Jester. I made a lump-sum settlement with Lisa when we sold the house we shared, so I’m not paying alimony and I have no children to support. And no restaurant. I probably have more disposable income than you do.”

  Annoyed that she’d not only not upset him, but given him ammunition to turn on her, she angled her chin and, after a gentle pat on Max’s head, turned for the door. Connor caught her arm and stopped her.

  “And another thing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What?”

  “You are an idiot,” he said, looking into her eyes, “if you think that money is the most appealing thing about you.” He freed her and walked around her to open the door.

  She sailed though it without another word.

  She didn’t like him, she thought, storming back toward the coffee shop. She should have trusted her original impression of him. And he was entirely too smooth when it suited his purposes, and determined to have things his way.


  She held her coat closed against the snow and almost collided with Luke at the door to the coffee shop.

  “Did you get in touch with CFS?” she demanded.

  He blinked at her tone of voice, than replied regretfully, “Yes, I did. Their office is short staffed because of colds and flu, and the two caseworkers remaining are swamped. I assured her the baby was in good hands until tomorrow. I checked with the doc, and he can give you another night.”

  “Give me another night?” she asked hotly.

  Luke grinned. “Yeah. And I’m not surprised. I heard that kiss in the restaurant after I left was pretty hot.”

  After an initial impulse to punch him, she asked instead, “And how are you doing on the search for Max’s mother?”

  “Nothing yet, but I’m working on it.”

  She marched past him into the shop, determined he would be getting his daily bowl of stew in his lap today. Then she was going to track down and do bodily harm to everyone who’d been in the coffee shop this morning and passed on the story.

  She’d call Connor and tell him he could stay home tonight, that she and Max would manage just fine, but she was sure she’d regret it. He knew what he was doing with babies and she didn’t. What a sorry state of affairs when a grown woman had to depend on a man to care for a little baby. Even if the man was a doctor.

  Amanda Bradley was sitting at the far end of the counter when Shelly went back to work. They’d been friends since Amanda moved to Jester when she was eight, just a year older than Shelly. She’d been pretty even then, when Shelly had been all scraped knees and torn clothing. She’d since grown into a classically beautiful young woman with long, light brown hair and lively brown eyes. Today she wore a simple white silk shirt under a gray-blue vee-neck sweater and blue wool slacks. She looked like an ad for the elegant career woman as she closed her menu and tucked it behind the napkin holder.

  Unlike Shelly who felt like the “before” picture in a makeover ad.

  “Well, you’re certainly efficient,” Amanda teased as Shelly approached her. “A million dollars, a baby, and a man who isn’t embarrassed to kiss you in front of a crowd—and all in just a few days!”