“Does what?”
“Makes you cynical.”
She shook her head. How could she admit that her former husband, not her job, had hardened her attitude? It wasn’t something she wanted to recognize, much less talk about. “I’m just being realistic. And you should be, too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You say you want custody of this baby until suitable parents are found. Do you have any idea how long that could take?”
He shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “With so many couples out there looking for a baby to adopt, it shouldn’t take long.”
“The legal red tape alone could take months, a year or more. And what if you grow fond of Annie during that time? Will you be prepared to hand her over to strangers?” She was taking her frustration out on him again, but she was helpless to stop herself. “And in the meantime, while you’re waiting for the right parents, since you have a business to run, who will take care of this baby?”
“I’ll hire Agnes.”
She cast him a dubious glance.
“I make good money,” he insisted. “I can afford it.”
“It takes more than money to be a good parent,” she snapped.
“Why are you so upset?”
“Aside from being manhandled and kidnapped?” she said, bristling again.
“All other things being equal,” he replied in his calm, composed way that only fueled her irritation.
How could she respond to that comment when all other things weren’t equal? How stupid would she sound if she answered that her dissatisfaction came from the fact that a woman who had a baby hadn’t wanted it, and Marissa, who hungered for a child like dry ground for water, hadn’t a hope of being a mom?
She forced herself to take a deep breath, disengage her emotions and look at the facts. She’d learned long ago to ignore her personal feelings when handling a case. Feelings clouded her judgment. Blake might be a childhood friend, but he was first and foremost her client. She couldn’t give her best legal advice if her own desires were riding roughshod over her reasoning.
“I apologize for snapping at you,” she said. “You’ve placed me in difficult circumstances, and I haven’t handled them well.”
Blake shook his head. “No need to apologize. I’m the one who’s taken advantage of an old friend. I’m sorry I’ve put you in a tough spot.”
“Sorry won’t solve this dilemma.”
“I’m sure between the two of us, we can think of something that will.”
The two of us.
Just like old times, Marissa thought. As a teenager, she’d often dreamed of growing up and marrying Blake, but he’d never treated her as more than a friend. She couldn’t help wondering how her life would have turned out if she’d actively pursued him, been somehow lucky enough to spark his interest and had become Blake’s wife instead of Harry’s. She squelched that thought, having learned long ago not to waste time over might-have-beens.
The logo on his shirt caught her eye. “Adams Landscape Designs. You own the company?”
“Yep, it’s all mine.”
“I thought you wanted to be an astronaut. You were crazy about outer space. Remember how you used to draw me star charts?” Memories of summer nights spent stargazing with the breeze heavy with the smell of jasmine inundated her, making her wish she was twelve again.
“Being an astronaut wasn’t in the cards.” He laughed. “Literally.”
“What cards?”
“When I was a freshman, my roommates and I went to the state fair. They insisted on having their futures told by a tarot reader.”
Marissa made a face. “I don’t believe in the occult.”
Blake grinned. “Me, either. But in this case the gypsy lady was right.”
“You had your fortune told?”
“Not exactly. I was just along for the ride. But as my buddies were leaving, the tarot reader smiled at me, flipped a card, and said there would be a lot of green in my future.”
“Green?” Marissa laughed. “And you thought she meant money?”
“I didn’t think about it at all until the next semester when I took my first botany course. I was hooked immediately, changed my major to landscape design, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
The shine in his eyes melted her cynicism and sent the years tumbling away. Suddenly she felt like a teenager again, a time when life had been good and wondrous and filled with endless possibilities.
“And you don’t regret not being an astronaut?”
“Hey, I’ve got the greatest job in the world. I can take a boxy house or ugly commercial building, design and install an appropriate landscape, and make it a showpiece. And my work isn’t hidden in some dark corner of an art gallery. Thousands of people view it every day.”
Blake’s happiness wasn’t fake. It seemed to originate deep inside. She envied him. Marissa hadn’t felt that kind of happiness since…since she’d been a kid hanging out with Blake Adams.
She pictured him bent over his drawing table. “I never thought of you as the artistic type.”
“My work’s much more than sketches on paper. I like the physical aspects, too. When I plant with my crews, they work harder, smarter and faster. And I don’t need to spend time in a gym to stay fit. Plus, I get plenty of fresh air and sunshine.”
Blake had always loved the outdoors, had hated being cooped up inside for any length of time. And he definitely had no need now for a gym or personal trainer. With his fitted shirt and shorts, she could easily see that the skinny kid she’d known had developed very appealing muscles in all the right places.
Why hadn’t some lucky woman scooped up such a great catch and married him long ago? She wondered how many women had tried and failed, and, if they’d failed, why? Was it Blake’s satisfaction with his single status that had gotten in their way?
Blake rounded the corner, turned into the driveway of his house and pulled around to the back of the residence before cutting the engine.
Marissa had only a fleeting glimpse of the structure, but she could tell his renovations had been extensive. He’d preserved the charm of the old arts-and-crafts-style bungalow and updated it in the process. And the landscaping, complete with yellow climbing roses around the front porch, set off the soft gray siding of the house like a frame complements a work of art.
She had barely a minute to contemplate his home before the back door of the adjoining house flew open. A short, rotund little woman scampered down the steps and raced across the yard toward them. High color stained her apple cheeks, her gray hair stood in disarrayed wisps, and her blue eyes held a wild look behind gold-rimmed granny glasses.
“Uh-oh.” Blake released his seat belt, jumped from the truck and called to the older woman. “Everything okay, Agnes?”
Marissa didn’t need her father’s people skills to tell by a glance at the baby-sitter’s face that something was terribly wrong. She’d never seen Agnes so agitated. Marissa hurried from the car to join Blake.
“Thank God you’re back!” Agnes blurted to Blake, ignoring Marissa in her distress. “I’ve been calling your cell number but couldn’t reach you.”
Blake pulled his phone from the pocket of his shorts. “I must have turned it off when I made a call earlier. What’s wrong? Is Annie all right?”
“It’s awful,” Agnes cried. “Just awful!”
With that, the little woman, whom generations of Dolphin Bay children had been unable to upset, burst into sobs.
Chapter Three
Touched by Agnes’s distress, Blake placed a consoling arm around her shoulders. His neighbor was the closest thing to a mother he’d ever had. From the day he’d first moved in beside her, she’d plied him with home-cooked meals, freshly baked cookies, friendly introductions to the neighbors and unconditional acceptance. And she was his staunchest ally and coconspirator against the tyranny of their mutual enemy, Vienna Pitts. To see Agnes so visibly disturbed wrung his heart.
“Is Annie all
right?” he repeated, afraid that by leaving the baby with his neighbor, he’d created a situation that had caused both Annie and Agnes grief.
“The little darling’s sleeping like a rock.” Agnes wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “It’s my older sister, Patricia, in Sarasota. She’s had a stroke. I have to go to her as soon as possible.”
“Of course you do.” Marissa’s calm, no-nonsense tone reassured Blake, who, in his concern for Agnes and Annie, was glad the attorney was there. “What can we do to help?” Marissa added.
Agnes flashed Marissa a teary smile of recognition mixed with gratitude. “Good to see you again, Marissa, dear. If you can help take care of the baby, I’ll leave immediately. I’ve already packed.”
Blake noted the tremor in Agnes’s hands and her distraught tone. “No way I’m letting you drive to Sarasota in your state of mind. You’d have an accident before you reached the Sunshine Skyway.”
“But I’ll need my car to get back and forth to the hospital.”
“I’ll drive you in your car,” Blake said, “and catch a bus back.”
Marissa shook her head. “I’ll drive Agnes in her car. You can follow in your truck and bring me home.”
Agnes hugged Marissa. “You’re a sweetheart.”
“But what about Annie?” Blake felt a sudden panic. He’d counted on Agnes to help with the infant. How could he take care of the baby without Agnes’s guidance and assistance?
“I have a carrier in my car,” Agnes said. “We’ll take her with us, then switch the carrier to your truck for the ride home.”
“That’ll work,” Marissa said. “Blake, you get the luggage. I’ll take care of the baby.”
Momentary relief surged through him at Marissa’s offer, but concern closed in again when he realized that Marissa’s help would only be temporary. With her law practice, she’d have no time for baby-sitting. His thoughts whirled like tires in deep mud, but he couldn’t come up with a solution for his dilemma. He shook away the effort. First things first, and right now he had to get Agnes to her sister’s bedside ASAP.
Agnes scurried into the house with Marissa close on her heels. Blake followed.
In the attractive and tidy family room, Agnes’s suitcase stood on the floor beside the crib the older woman kept for her baby-sitting clients. Blake reached for the luggage, and Marissa peered into the bed at the sleeping child. Blake stopped short, entranced by the glow on Marissa’s face.
With rosy lips parted, green eyes shining and a softness to her expression that gently twisted his heart, Marissa gazed at Annie as if in awe.
“She’s beautiful,” Marissa said softly.
Blake couldn’t decide who was the more breathtaking: the adorable infant with brilliant strawberry-blond curls, long eyelashes sweeping flushed cheeks and a rosebud mouth—or his childhood friend.
He had to clear a lump in his throat before he spoke. “She’s a cutie, all right.”
Stuffing tissues in her purse, Agnes bustled out of her bedroom. “I’m ready if you are.”
Tearing his gaze from the charming picture Marissa and Annie made, Blake grabbed the suitcase. Marissa scooped the child in her arms so expertly Annie didn’t stir from her deep sleep.
“There’s a diaper bag.” Agnes pointed to a table beside the crib. “I filled it with supplies I keep on hand for baby-sitting.”
Blake had to give his neighbor credit. Even in her concern over her sister, Agnes hadn’t lost her usual efficiency.
Marissa swung the bag over her shoulder and cradled Annie in her other arm. Blake held the door open for her and, as they exited past him, was struck by the melange of fragrance, baby powder mixed with Marissa’s subtle wisteria perfume. Agnes followed and closed and locked the door.
While the women climbed into Agnes’s car, Blake went to his back door, where Rambo stood waiting, tail wagging furiously in greeting, a lopsided grin on his canine lips. “C’mon, Bo. Do your business, then hop in the truck. We’re going for a ride.”
Bo woofed in delight, turned a few ecstatic circles and bounded to his favorite elm tree to relieve himself. Sometimes the dog took almost an hour to sniff and mark every bush and tree in the yard. But he either was excited about a ride or sensed the urgency in Blake’s voice, because he loped immediately to the truck and jumped into the rear seat of the cab as soon as Blake opened the door.
As a result, Marissa and Agnes were only a block ahead when Blake turned out of his drive onto the street.
“We’re going to Sarasota,” Blake told Bo, “so Agnes can take care of her sister who had a stroke.”
Blake had long ago stopped questioning the logic of speaking to an animal who couldn’t talk back. As intelligent as Bo was, Blake figured the dog understood most of what he said. Besides, talking to his pet made living by himself less solitary.
“That’s Marissa, my old high-school friend, with Agnes.” Blake flicked his turn signal and followed Agnes’s car onto the main drag that led to the interstate. “I hadn’t seen her in eighteen years, but she’s as easy to talk to now as she was when we were teenagers.”
Bo woofed in response.
“She’s almost as easy to talk to as you are, boy,” Blake said with a grin. “Except you don’t argue with me. I’m going to need some powerful persuasion to get her to help me with Annie. Marissa’s always been a straight shooter. Now that she’s an attorney, I don’t know if she’ll bend the rules like we did sometimes when we were kids.”
Recalling Marissa’s appearance when he’d first seen her again in her office and her expression when she gazed at Annie, Blake couldn’t help thinking that Marissa’s unwillingness to bend rules wasn’t the only thing about her that had changed. Years ago, Blake had considered her a good pal, just like one of the guys. No way could he ever look at her in that same way again. She’d grown into a stunning woman, one who heated his blood and quickened his pulse, especially when he recalled the trim fit of her very professional suit, showing off her undeniable attributes from head to toe. And her wisteria fragrance was enough to drive a man wild. How could any male juror keep his mind on a trial when Marissa stepped in front of the bench?
“She’s grown up to be quite a woman.”
Bo rested his head on the back of Blake’s seat, licked his master’s ear and whined.
“She likes dogs,” Blake assured Bo, hoping Marissa would be around often enough to get to know Bo well.
He shook his head to force his longing thoughts away. Marissa may have turned into a mouthwatering adult female, but that fact was no concern of Blake’s. He wasn’t looking for a woman to call his own. He’d decided long ago that marriage and family life were out of the question for him. Bounced from one foster home to another while growing up, he’d never learned how to deal with intense relationships. He’d be a disaster as a husband and a father, probably even as a lover, because he wasn’t equipped with the skills to maintain lasting intimate ties to anyone—except Bo, of course, who forgave all Blake’s shortcomings.
“No reason, though,” he said over his shoulder to Bo, “that Marissa can’t still be our buddy. Right, boy?”
Bo barked in enthusiastic agreement and stuck his head out the open driver’s window, his grin widening as his fur blew in the wind, while Blake struggled to make the sophisticated Marissa of today fit the image of his old teenage pal—and failed.
TWO HOURS LATER, with Agnes safely settled at her sister’s bedside and Annie asleep in the carrier in the back seat beside Bo, Blake headed the truck north over the Sunshine Skyway Bridge toward Dolphin Bay. The startlingly vivid lavender, mango and rose of the sunset over the Gulf of Mexico reminded Blake anew why he loved the area. He and Marissa had watched hundreds of sunsets together as kids, and the sight made him feel young again, ready to tackle anything. Even taking care of a three-month-old infant until he found her a good home.
Beside him, Marissa pulled her gaze from the spectacle of the setting sun. Keeping his attention on the traffic, from the corner
of his eye, he caught her staring at him. She was even more beautiful than he’d first thought, with her hair ruffled by the wind and one silken leg crossed over the other, revealing a delectable knee and shapely thigh where her skirt had crept higher.
Feeling suddenly awkward at the turn his thoughts had taken, he strove for a neutral subject. “Lucky that the doctors could intervene so quickly with Patricia.”
Marissa nodded. “Today’s medications, if administered in time, can alleviate the effects of a stroke. She should be out of the hospital in a few days.”
“But Agnes plans to stay a couple weeks. She’ll wait on Patricia hand and foot once she’s out of the hospital. Lucky sister. If I was sick, there’s no one who’d take better care of me than Agnes. Once when I was down with the flu, she almost drowned me in chicken soup, hot toddies and tons of sympathy.”
Marissa twisted on the seat toward him and intensified her gaze. “You realize,” she said in a no-nonsense tone, “that you have no choice now but to turn Annie over to the authorities.”
“Because Agnes can’t take care of her?” Blake shook his head. “I’ll hire a nanny. I’m sure there’re plenty of competent people out there who can help me care for Annie until the right adoptive parents come along.”
Marissa sighed, her warm breath stirring the air in the truck and Blake’s senses, as well. “That’s not the point.”
“Sure it is. How can you hand a sweet little angel like Annie over to a cold impersonal system? It’ll break her heart.”
“Foster parents aren’t monsters.” Marissa’s frustration with him was evident in her firm statement and the jut of her very pretty chin.
“Some are,” Blake said quietly, struggling with memories he’d promised himself he’d forget.
Marissa sat silent for a moment, as if digesting what he’d said. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its edge, her posture relaxed. “But you really have no choice. Everyone will know you have her. Unless you leave town with the baby.”
“I can’t leave. I have a business to run.” Blake reminded himself of the appointment he had with the developer the next morning, the appointment he’d canceled today because of Annie.
Verdict: Daddy Page 3
