Major Dad

by Shelley Cooper

  Brady felt the years rolling away. Gazing at this boy was like looking into a mirror. How well he knew the rage that shone from those blue eyes. He'd felt it himself during the years he'd been shuttled from one foster home to another. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say the boy's father had disappeared shortly after his birth, leaving his mother, young and undereducated, to fend for herself. If she'd stuck around, she probably worked two jobs just to put food on the table.

  Which left the child starved for attention. If he was at all the way Brady had been, he'd do anything to get it. Even if the resulting attention was negative. The things he would do would only grow worse as he matured.

  Like Brady, he would probably find himself in and out of juvenile court on a regular basis. Unlike Brady, the odds were prohibitive that, on one of those occasions, a man like Charles Ross would be present to see something redeemable beneath a cocky, unrepentant exterior and offer to act as foster parent. Brady still marveled that Charles had stuck with him despite the hell he'd put them both through that next year, until all the barriers he had erected between them had been broken down. If someone like his adoptive father didn't step forward soon for this boy, his future looked bleak.

  While Brady watched, Haven left the injured child to the ministrations of the other woman and walked over to the boy standing outside the circle. Quietly, she spoke to him until the rage left his face, and he seemed ready to cry himself. He nodded in response to something she said, then entered the circle.

  "I'm sorry I hit you, Billy," Brady heard him say.

  Billy sat up and wiped his forearm across his nose, leaving a streak of dirt on his cheek. "That's okay. Want to play catch?"

  "After I go to time-out."

  Brady revised his earlier opinion. Maybe the child's future wasn't so bleak after all. He had a sudden understanding of the importance of the job Haven was doing. Like Charles Ross, she was giving hope, solace and understanding where otherwise there might be none. She was doing the job these children's parents would be doing if they didn't have to work so hard just to provide the basics of survival for their families.

  "Sorry about that," she said when she returned. "There's never a dull minute around here."

  "What's his name?" Brady asked.

  "Who?"

  "The boy with the angry eyes and the quick fists."

  "Oh. You mean Chad."

  "Looks like he needs a stern hand to keep him in line."

  Haven sighed. "What he needs, Brady, is a father."

  A look of dismay spread across her face, and he knew she regretted the words. He also knew he shouldn't take advantage of the opening, given their new beginning, but he couldn't pass the opportunity by. With Chad's help, Haven had just made his case, far more effectively than he ever could.

  "Boys aren't the only ones who need their fathers. Girls do, too."

  "What do you want from me, Brady?" Her voice was weary.

  "I want you to help me be a father to my daughter."

  "I've already told you I'd let you visit with her."

  He shook his head. "That's not what I meant. You're a teacher, Haven, I want you to teach me."

  "You want me to teach you how to be a father?" Her eyebrows rose.

  "Is that such an impossible request?"

  "No, just a surprising one."

  "So, will you help?"

  "It's really very easy, Brady. Just give her lots of hugs and kisses, love her to bits, help her up when she falls—without overcoddling her too much, of course—and listen to her when she speaks."

  "That's it?"

  She spread her arms. "That's it. Simple, isn't it?"

  Simple, yet more complicated than anything he'd ever done. He wasn't sure he was up to it, especially the love part.

  "You saw how I was with her this morning. I don't think things are going to be that easy for me."

  "Just be yourself, Brady. Kids are smart. They know when someone's patronizing them. They can tell if someone's putting on an act for their benefit. Just relax. You'll be okay."

  "Being myself certainly didn't help me with you," he couldn't resist saying.

  She surprised him by laughing. "That was different."

  How was it different? he wondered. Was it just because he was Anna's father, and therefore an unwanted intension in her life? Or was it because, until he'd nipped the feeling in the bud, she'd found him as attractive as he found her?

  "Are you going to make me wait until the test results come in before letting me be myself with Anna?"

  She seemed to come to a decision. "What are you doing for dinner tonight?"

  * * *

  The rocking chair creaked as Haven, infant cradled on her shoulder, smoothed her hand over the tiny back. A minute later she was rewarded with a loud burp.

  "Good boy, Jimmy," she cooed, holding the three-month-old out in front of her. "You didn't even spit up on me this time. Your digestive system must be maturing."

  Jimmy smiled and drooled on her, and Haven's heart melted. While she adored all the children in her care, her favorite place was the nursery. She loved everything about babies: the way they looked, so small and helpless; the way they smelled, the way they felt when she held them in her arms; the way they depended on her for their every need. If she'd had her way, she would have had a whole houseful of babies. Forget women's lib. Haven's vision of utopia was herself, barefoot and hugely pregnant, with a baby in her arms and a passel of kids pulling on the hem of her dress.

  Unfortunately, fate had stepped in, in the form of an automobile accident when she was sixteen, and made that an impossibility. Fortunately, fate had also given her Anna. And taking care of other women's children ran a close second to having them herself. Though it never quite eased the ache in her heart, it was a comfort knowing that whenever she needed a baby fix, she could just head for the nursery.

  Settling Jimmy back on her shoulder, Haven closed her eyes and continued to rock. Almost immediately, her thoughts drifted to Brady Ross and his second unexpected visit. Never had any one man been able to arouse so many conflicting emotions in her in such a short space of time. What on earth had gotten into her? Why had she invited him to dinner that night?

  Because he was right. For Anna's sake, they had to work things out. The best course was to start slow, while she could still control his meetings with Anna. Until his paternity was officially confirmed, she would let the little girl get used to being around Brady, to develop a relationship with him, before breaking the news that he was her father.

  She could make him wait, she supposed, until after the test results arrived. But that option was dangerous. She wasn't sure if—and how—he would retaliate. No, it was better this way; better to antagonize him as little as possible. No matter how angry he made her.

  Haven had a sudden thought. What if he wasn't Anna's father after all? What if this was all an elaborate ruse? The DNA test results wouldn't be in for several weeks yet. That could buy someone a lot of time, especially if that someone's purpose was less than admirable. If his purpose was, say, kidnapping.

  Given the size of Anna's inheritance, kidnapping had always been a concern for Haven. Several times—the most recent being after the article in the newspaper—she had considered, and then discarded, the notion of hiring someone to watch over Anna. Melinda had never lived her life in fear, and she wouldn't want her daughter to live that way, either.

  Before she died, Melinda had expressed her wish to Haven that Anna grow up as normally as possible. Having a bodyguard underfoot was not what Haven would call normal. While there was always the possibility that some unscrupulous individual would try to kidnap Anna in order to get his hands on her money, the odds weren't that great. After all, they lived a low-profile life in a modest, middle-class neighborhood. Most people had no idea who Anna was, let alone the vastness of her wealth.

  No, Haven didn't believe that Brady planned on kidnapping Anna. Scary as the thought was, if that was his goal, he could have already accomplished t
he task without insinuating himself into their lives. Not to mention that most kidnappers, she assumed, preferred that their faces remain unseen by their intended victim's family. Why would Brady go to all this bother, when it would have been far easier just to snatch Anna and run?

  She was still clutching at straws, still hoping that this was all a dream, and that when she woke up it would be just her and Anna again. But it wasn't a dream. Brady Ross wasn't going to go away; he'd as much as told her so earlier. Deep down in her gut, Haven knew he was no kidnapper. And the reason she knew was that she trusted him.

  The realization brought her up short, and her eyes flew open. She trusted him. She actually trusted the man. She never would have allowed him near Anna otherwise, nor would she have agreed to take the little girl in for the blood work. She most certainly wouldn't have invited him to her home.

  But how could that be? It made no sense. How could she trust a man she didn't even like?

  He was arrogant, cynical and totally lacking in work ethic. Plus, he could take Anna away from her. Logic would seem to dictate that she stay away from him. Unfortunately, logic seemed to fly out the window whenever he was near.

  She felt her lips twist. He'd really gotten to her with his remark about Anna needing a father, the same way Chad did. Unknowingly, with a few short words, he'd hit her where she was most vulnerable. All those years she'd spent yearning to be closer to her own father, and then in waltzed Brady, offering Anna everything Haven had ever wanted. How could she deny her little girl this gift?

  One thing she knew for certain. If he hurt Anna. she'd cut his heart out.

  * * *

  "This is not a date," Haven admonished her reflection four hours later as, leaning forward, she carefully applied her lipstick. "So why are you behaving like it is one?"

  Cap safely back on the lipstick tube, she studied her reflection. Gone was the wrinkled yellow dress with its splotch of cherry Kool-Aid across the front. In its place, she'd donned a floral-patterned sundress with a halter top that, to her sudden dismay, exposed a good deal more of her skin than she'd previously realized. She saw also that her shoulders were sunburned. It was time to start applying sunscreen on both herself and the children in her care.

  The outfit was too revealing, she decided. She'd have to change. Slacks and a blouse were definitely what the occasion called for. And she'd button the blouse clear up to her neck. After all, she didn't want Brady to think she'd primped and preened just for him.

  "Binny!" Anna called up the stairs.

  "What is it, honey?" she called back, heading for her closet.

  "The stove's makin' a funny noise. It sounds wike a snake."

  The stove. Good heavens, the potatoes! She'd forgotten all about them. They must be boiling over.

  "Be right there!" she called. No time to change now. As she ran for the stairs, she was glad Josephine had gone on one of her overnight visits. She wasn't ready yet to tell the older woman about Brady, or the real reason for his visit.

  She'd just gotten the kitchen under control, when the doorbell rang. Drawing a deep breath, she mentally steeled herself for the evening ahead. Tonight was the night she started teaching Brady Ross how to be a father. She only prayed she didn't lose Anna in the process.

  "Hi," he said with a smile when she opened the front door. It was the first time Haven had seen him really smile, and for a moment she completely lost her train of thought in the wonder of it. His lips curved upward invitingly, creasing his cheeks and banishing the gauntness from his face. His gray eyes filled with a warmth that had her heart thudding in her chest and the heat of a blush stealing into her cheeks.

  "Hi," she replied, mentally cursing the breathlessness she heard in her voice. For Pete's sake, she sounded like a sixteen-year-old greeting her first date!

  This is not a date, she reminded herself sternly.

  His gaze roved over her, and she couldn't stem a surge of pure feminine satisfaction at the glint of approval she saw in his eyes. "You look nice."

  Returning his perusal, she noted that he'd traded in his jeans for a pair of brown chinos and a white cotton shirt. The preppie image was marred somewhat by the shoulder-length blond hair he'd pulled back into a ponytail at his nape. Haven knew that even had his hair been fashionably cut, the ever-present aura of danger that clung to him like groupies to a rock star would never allow him to appear totally respectable.

  "Thanks," she said. "You look nice, too."

  "Where's Anna?"

  "Watching Sesame Street. I tape it for her every day."

  "May I come in?"

  The warmth in her checks intensified. She'd been so busy studying him that she'd literally left him standing on her doorstep.

  "Of course." She moved aside.

  As he crossed the threshold, she saw that one hand clutched a stuffed bear that was obviously for Anna, while the other held a plastic bottle. She closed the door, then turned to face him. He extended the bottle toward her.

  "This is for you."

  She took the offering. Sunscreen. SPF 30. Bemused, she raised questioning eyes to him.

  "I noticed this afternoon that your nose and shoulders were burning."

  "Thank you," she said carefully. "That was very thoughtful of you."

  If she needed any more proof that her attraction to him was one-sided, this was it. What man besotted with a woman brought her sunscreen? Flowers, candy, even wine. But sunscreen? No, she mused, as she led him down the hall into the living room, this most definitely was not a date.

  * * *

  Carrying the teddy bear he'd brought her, Anna climbed up next to him on the living-room sofa. Though Haven had left them alone together—presumably so they could get to know each other better—the sound of her cleaning up in the kitchen drifted down the hallway and into the room. He found the clatter of dishes oddly comforting.

  All in all, he reflected, things hadn't gone too badly. He'd made it through dinner without incident, even if he had eaten with more gusto than the situation had called for. It was the first home-cooked meal he'd had since before his capture, and it had tasted like manna from the gods. After the first bite, he hadn't been able to hold back. Though he'd caught Haven staring at him curiously from time to time, she'd been too polite to ask the questions he'd seen burning in her eyes.

  He still felt awkward and unsure around Anna, but it was getting a little easier. With the passage of time, he supposed he would sound less like a robot when he spoke to her and more like a human being. Now, if he could just keep his eyes off her guardian.

  Haven hadn't made it easy for him. All he had to do was close his eyes to recall the tantalizing expanse of throat and shoulder exposed by her sundress. Even sunburned, her shoulders were a temptation he found hard to resist.

  "Unca Bwady?" Anna asked.

  He and Haven had decided on the less formal mode of address, in the hope that it would make the transition to "Daddy" that much easier when the time came. A sudden lump formed in his throat at the thought of hearing that word from his child.

  "Yes, Anna?" he said huskily.

  "Why doesn't your leg work?"

  "I fell and broke it. I limp because it didn't heal properly."

  "How did you fall?"

  "I jumped out of an airplane and landed wrong."

  Her eyes grew round. "With a pawachute 'n' everything?"

  "With a parachute and everything," he said with a nod.

  "Wow."

  The wonder in the word made him smile. "Would you like to jump out of a plane some day?"

  "Um-hmm. But I don't think Binny will let me. She doesn't like danjus things."

  "Binny's a very smart lady," Brady said. "You'd do well to listen to her."

  He'd thought the subject of his leg closed, but evidently Anna's curiosity wasn't yet satisfied.

  "Why didn't it heal popally?"

  Because I was captured by a group of guerrillas, and there were no doctors around, so I had to set it myself the best I could.
>
  "It just didn't." He drew a deep breath. "So, what do you want to do?"

  Anna jumped off the sofa and ran across the room, where she grabbed a book from the bookcase. "Will you wead to me?"

  At first, his voice was halting and strained. He couldn't seem to concentrate on anything except the child nestled at his side. She was so small, and she gazed up at him with such trust in her eyes. He'd never been more terrified in his life.

  Relax. Be yourself. He could almost hear Haven saying the words to him. Surprisingly, he did relax. Instead of concentrating on Anna, he began focusing on the story he was reading, on making it fun for her. Before he knew it, he was lost in the age-old tale of trolls, bridges and billy goats.

  When he finished, he looked up to find Haven standing in the doorway. Her eyes were warm and dreamy as she stared at him. Hypnotized, he stared back, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

  "That was wonderful," she said, taking a step into the room. "You really brought the story alive for me, and I've heard it a thousand times."

  It was her way of telling him that he was doing okay, without blatantly spelling it out in front of Anna. Grateful for the reassurance, he drew a deep breath and willed his heart rate to slow down.

  "Thanks. Can I do anything to help with the cleanup?"

  She shook her head. "I'm almost done. Besides, I think someone has other ideas about how you're going to spend your time."

  Following the line of Haven's sight, he looked down at the little girl snuggled so closely to his side. To his surprise, her lap was piled high with books. While he'd been staring at Haven, Anna must have taken another trip to the bookcase.

  "Can you wead some more, Unca Bwady?" she asked, her eyes bright with pleasure and anticipation. "I wuv the way you wead."

  Brady's heart contracted. Right then, if she'd asked him for the moon, he would have gotten a rope and tried to lasso it.

  "Sure thing, squirt," he said, his voice gruff. "What do you want to start with?"

  An hour later, Anna had been tucked into bed, and he sat a safe distance from Haven on her front-porch swing. The creaking of the swing blended with the chirping of crickets as he watched the sun begin its slow descent in the sky.