Baby, Oh Baby! (17 page)

Annie felt tongue-tied and awkward, like an intruder in her own home. "Good morning. I was, uh, talking to the baby."

He nodded. "Morning." He looked away, then, but not before his gaze swept over her, making her acutely aware that she was only wearing a nightgown and a brief kimono. "What are you doing up?" he asked.

The smell of coffee drew me in."

Jake shut off the sink and turned around, drying his hands on a dish towel. The motion was slight, but his arms were so muscular that it made his biceps bulge in his T-shirt. She couldn't help but remember how he'd looked without it. "You're not supposed to be up without assistance," he said.

Annie lifted her shoulders and grinned. "If you don't call the rules police, it can be our little secret."

His eyebrows knit in a frown. He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, then abruptly shut it, as if he'd thought better. He slung the towel over the edge of the sink. "So how are you feeling?"

"Not too bad, considering." She stepped further into the kitchen.

He moved to her side and pulled out a chair. "Here. Have a seat and I'll pour you some coffee."

She slowly lowered herself into a chair beside Madeline's, trying not wince from the pain. She distracted herself by looking at his legs. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and his legs were every bit as appealing as his chest-brown and muscled, and covered with dark hair. She turned to the baby. "How are you doing today, Madeline?"

The baby banged on the tray of her high chair and gurgled merrily.

"Is this her breakfast or a mid-morning snack?"

"From the way she's attacking that banana, I'd say it's her second breakfast. She ate her first one when she got up around six."

Annie nodded. "She's an early bird, all right." "Maybe she gets that from me."

Annie's heart jumped in her throat. It was going to take some getting used to, this concept that she'd had a child with this man.

It was so odd. Here they were, the three of them—a biological family—having breakfast together in a kitchen. It could be a scene from any normal household in America.

Except she and Jake weren't married. They weren't even lovers. They'd made a baby together, but they hadn't so much as even kissed.

Unbidden, her gaze went to his mouth as he moved toward her, the cup of coffee in his hand. She glanced up, and their eyes locked. For a fraction of a second, they both stared at each other, and an unmistakable charge of awareness surged between them. It was just a look, but it was as clear as a spoken word, as tangible as a touch.

He cleared his throat and looked away. Her stomach did a nervous somersault as he set the coffee down in front of her.

"Thanks." She took a sip. It was hot and strong, and she welcomed its bracing heat. She searched for something to say, for something, anything, to neutralize the odd charge in the air. "And thanks for handling the nursing duties in the night."

"No problem."

Madeline banged her tray again, flinging smashed banana on Jake's shirt. He turned back to the sink and picked up the towel, using it to wipe his shirt. "She's awfully hard on clothes," he griped good-naturedly. The baby grinned and kicked the legs of the high chair, making it scoot backward on the floor. "Not to mention furniture."

Annie smiled. "She can't hurt that piece. It's sturdy as the oak tree it was made from. It's been in my family for three generations. My grandfather made it before my dad was born."

Jake ran a hand over the carved wooden back. "Nice work. I used to do some carpentry and woodworking myself."

Annie's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You don't look like a do-it-yourself kind of person."

"I guess I'm not. Not anymore, anyway. But I used to enjoy it."

"So why did you stop?"

Jake lifted his shoulder. "My handiwork didn't go with my wife's decor. Besides, it made more sense to spend my free time on golf and. tennis—things that could help my career."

"I thought the whole point of free time was to do what you wanted."

"There are only so many hours in the day. In order to get ahead, you have to maximize your use of time."

Spoken like a real workaholic, Annie thought. Not that she was surprised; she'd pegged him for the type. She took another sip of coffee. "What kind of things did you used to build?"

"Oh, just simple stuff. A game table, a bookcase, a bench."

"Do you still have them?"

"Nah. It was all junk."

Annie smiled. "One man's junk is another man's treasure. That's what my grandmother always used to say."

"Your grandfather was evidently a lot better at woodworking than I ever was."

"That's because he took his time. It took him eight months to make that high chair."

"Is that right?"

Annie nodded. "He started making it the day he found out Gran was pregnant. He planned to surprise her with it when the baby was born. When she was eight months along, though, she burst into tears one day because her stomach was so large she couldn't reach her feet to pull on her socks. Grandpa helped her with her shoes and socks, then went out and got the chair, hoping to cheer her up." Annie smiled. "She was so touched, she just cried harder. Grandpa thought she was about to go into labor."

Jake grinned. "That's a nice story."

"They had a nice marriage." Annie gazed down at her coffee cup. "I always dreamed of having a relationship like that, but it didn't work out."

Annie looked up and saw a pained look in Jake's eyes. He must have had a nice marriage, too. An odd wistful twinge passed through her, one she couldn't quite define.

"Grandpa did all kinds of woodworking," she continued, wanting to smooth over the awkward silence, to erase the strained look on his face. "He built the cabinets here in the kitchen, the table _ in the dining room, and Gran's bedroom vanity.; His tools are still out in the barn."

"Maybe I can take a look at them sometime."

Annie took another sip of coffee, but the lump in her throat made it hard to swallow. She needed to accept it; Jake was going to be a part of their life—a major, ongoing part of their life. The prospect was still alarming, but it was no longer as chilling as it had seemed at first. He'd said he didn't intend to take Madeline away from her. He was good with the baby, and he'd been incredibly kind and helpful in a crisis. She'd never planned on having Madeline's father in the picture, but here he was, and she needed get used to it..

She nodded and forced a smile. "Sure. Maybe you can even try them out the next time you come visit Madeline."

"Hold still, Madeline."

The baby squirmed on the changing table as Jake tried to fasten on a diaper. It had been two days since he'd brought Annie back, and he'd gotten perhaps a little better at changing their child.

"Come on, girl. We've got to take your Mommy to the doctor and we don't want to be late."

The baby twisted around completely so that she was up on her knees. Jake gently flipped her on her back like a turtle. The child laughed, then struggled to get back on her stomach.

"I swear, Madeline, the next time I have to change your diaper, I think I'll gag_ and bind you first."

"I hope that's not what the duct tape is for."

Jake turned his head to see Annie in the nursery doorway, gazing worriedly at the roll of silver tape nearby. She was wearing a loose sundress with sunflowers printed all over it. Her hair was pulled back from her face with two tortoiseshell combs, and tiny gold earrings sparkled in her lobes. If she hadn't been frowning, she would have looked like a ray of sunshine.

As he watched, the crease between her eyebrows deepened. "You wouldn't really tie up the baby, would you?"

"Of course not."

"So what's with the duct tape?"

"It's for the diaper. If I mess up, it gives me another shot at getting it on." Jake struggled to hold Madeline still while he tugged the diaper under her bottom. "In case you haven't noticed, getting a diaper on this kid is harder than putting a saddle on a rattlesnake."

Annie grinned and stepped up beside him, close enough that the disconcertingly erotic scent of a soft, flowery perfume filled his nostrils. Madeline kicked her legs and smiled broadly. "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma."

"I'm right here, sweetie." Annie reached down and expertly fastened the diaper on her first try.

Jake shot her sardonic grin. "You're just trying to make me look bad in front of the baby."

Annie laughed. "Not at all. You're doing a good job of that all by yourself."

Jake couldn't help but laugh. He picked up the child and swung her to the floor. Her mother eyed the child appraisingly. "Looks like she's ready for the next size of diaper. I don't know what you've been feeding her, but she seems to have gained weight since I've been sick."

Jake swallowed guiltily. Annie probably wouldn't appreciate learning that the child had been living on a steady diet of Twinkies. He gave them to her whenever she threatened to cry, which to his way of thinking was alarmingly often. They worked like a charm, but they spoiled her appetite for actual meals.

Madeline reached out her arms. "Ma-ma-ma-ma."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm not supposed to pick you up yet." Annie sighed, casting a rueful glance at Jake. "It breaks my heart to refuse to hold her."

The baby was obviously attached to Annie, and it was no wonder. For all of her eccentricities, she was a loving and devoted mother. She'd turned her sickbed into Madeline's playground, using it to read storybooks, play games, and sing songs to the child. She'd given Jake a long list of instructions, and she was constantly questioning him to see whether or not he'd followed them.

"Ma-ma-ma-ma."

"Could you support her weight while I give her a hug?"

"Sure." Jake lifted Madeline, her back to his chest, one arm around her stomach, the other forming a seat under her bottom. The child's arms snaked around Annie's neck. Annie hugged the child back. The only problem was, the position put the back of Jake's hand directly against Annie's right breast. It was warm and soft and lush, and he had the most inappropriate urge to turn his hand and fill his palm.

The thought disturbed him. Abruptly breaking the hug, he placed Madeline on the floor. "We'd better get going if we're going to make Bartlesville by eleven."

"Okay."

Jake helped Annie and Madeline out the front door and into the car, then strapped Madeline into her car seat.

"We'll need to take the baby's bag," Annie said as Jake climbed into the driver's seat.

"It's in the back. I loaded it with fresh diapers and juice this morning."

"Did you put in her Binkie?"

Jake looked at her blankly. `Binkie?"

Annie nodded. "Her pacifier. In case she cries."

Binkie, not Twinkie. The pacifier was called a Binkie. Oh, Christ. And here he'd been shoveling snack cakes at Madeline as if they were the mainstay of a baby's recommended diet.

"I, uh, think I left it in her crib," Jake hedged. "I'll go get it."

He returned to the house and retrieved the pacifier. Opening the car's back door, he handed it to the baby. Sure enough, she stuck it in her mouth and happily sucked away.

Annie smiled at Jake as he crawled in the driver's seat and started the engine. "You've really caught on to this parenthood business.

He'd caught on, all right—to the fact that Madeline would do anything for a Twinkie. He only hoped Annie never caught on to his mistake.

Twinkies instead of Binkies, he thought, inwardly wincing. Jumpin' Jehohasphat.

"Madeline has really taken a liking to you, ' Annie was saying.

Jake cast her a sideways glance. He'd better take advantage of her good opinion of him while it lasted. "Look—we're both quite sure I'm Madeline's father. But I'd still like to have the DNA test done."

The gaze Annie shot him was wary. "Why?"

"Well, because it would prove that I am with a ninety-nine point nine percent probability of accuracy or prove for certain that I'm not."

Annie's eyes grew scared. "Why do you need proof?"

"Because I want to be as sure as it is possible to be." He angled a glance at her. "If you were in my shoes, wouldn't you?"

She gave a reluctant nod. "I suppose."

"It's really very simple." He stopped at the end of the driveway, then pulled the car out on the road and headed north. "We can do it today. I made a few phone calls, and there's a lab near the doctor's office in Bartlesville."

Annie stared out the window as they pulled out on the highway. "And if the tests say you're Madeline's biological father, then what? What do you want to do with the information?"

Jake met her gaze. "Annie, I want to be a part of Madeline's life."

Annie stared out at the passing pastureland, her heart pounding, her palms damp with anxiety. The last few days had given her a lot of time to think about things and to watch him with Madeline.

Just last night she'd walked in to the nursery to find Jake dancing with the baby in his arms, crooning a low-key rendition of "Inagodadavida." Annie had ducked back into the hallway, not wanting to ruin the moment, her hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh.

"Bay bay bay," Madeline had cooed as he finished.

Annie had leaned against the wall, listening to his response. "Do I hear a request from the audience? You want your mommy's baby song? Well, it's not in my usual repertoire, but let's see what I can do."

Jake's deep baritone had begun to sing:

"Baby, oh, baby! Baby, oh, baby! Baby, oh, baby—Oh!"
To Annie's amusement, he'd put a James Brown-type yowl on the last syllable.

"Baby, I love you. Baby, I love you. Baby, I love you so!”

Jake had sung the last verse like an Elvis impersonator. Madeline had squealed with laughter, and something in Annie's heart melted.

Jake's words brought her back. "If the test is positive, I want to be a father to her," he was saying.

Annie slowly nodded. "I can understand that. I've even come to accept that it could be good for Madeline. But..."

"But what?"

"I don't want to be separated from her."

"Annie, I'm not planning to take Madeline away from you."