Baby, Oh Baby! (20 page)

"I know. But I didn't want to run the risk that you'd say no. I knew you'd go if it was under nurse's orders."

Annie grinned. He grinned back. Sexual tension stretched between them, tightening like a kite string on a windy day.

She felt his gaze rove over her. Self-consciously she smoothed her short denim dress. -

"You look great;" he said. "How are you feeling?" "Better every day "

"That's good."

He held her gaze a second too long, looking away only when Madeline fidgeted.

Annie felt fidgety, too, but for an entirely different reason.

"It's getting close to Madeline's lunch time," she said. "She's probably getting hungry.".

He set the baby on the ground. "Well, then, let's go."

The only restaurant in Lucky was the Cowbell Cafe., a ramshackle diner that had been a truck stop before the interstate diverted traffic away from the two-lane state highway that ran through town. Jake shifted Madeline to one arm and opened the door for Annie with the other, causing the cowbell over the door to jangle. Every head in the restaurant swiveled toward the door.

Jake nodded at the sea of curious faces and ushered Annie toward a booth near the window, pausing to grab a highchair along the way. A disconcerting silence followed as every pair of eyes in the place watched them walk. A buzz of conversation began as they sat down.

"Guess they don't get many strangers in here," Jake remarked as he tried to place Madeline in the.highchair.

"I guess not," Annie replied.

"Do you know these folks?"

Annie shook her head. "I recognize a few faces, but I'd be hard-pressed , to put names to them. Everyone around here knew my grandparents, though, so they all know who I am."

I'll bet they do. And I'll bet an attractive, single woman raising a baby and a herd of alpacas by herself is pretty good conversational fodder. Jake finally managed to get Madeline's legs through the opening in the highchair. He slid the seat up against the table, then slipped into the booth opposite Annie.

"When I come to town, it's usually just to go to the grocery store or the nursing Home," Annie said. "I don't get out much."

"Even for dates?"

She smiled ruefully. "Especially for dates. I haven't been out on a real date in nearly three years."

Three years. That was well before Madeline had been conceived. He didn't care what she'd done before she'd gotten pregnant, but for some reason, he was extremely relieved to discover she'd been dateless since. There was nothing personal to it, he told himself., He just didn't like the idea of the mother of his child out-in' around, that was all.

Madeline pounded a chubby fist on the tray. "Ink! Ink! Ink!"

Uh-oh. The baby was staring at him, hoping to score a Twinkie.

"It sounds like she wants her Binky," Annie said. "Check and see if she has one in the diaper bag."

Jake reached in and pulled out the yellow plastic pacifier. He set it on the table in front of the baby, only to have Madeline quickly snatch it and toss it to the floor. "Ink! Ink! Ink!"

Annie's brow knit in bewilderment. "I wish I knew what she was saying."

And I hope you never find out.

Jake retrieved the pacifier as a big-haired waitress approached. She set a basket of crackers and two glasses of water on the table, smiled a greeting, then reached into the pile of teased hair on her head to pull out a pencil. "The blue-plate special today is spaghetti and meatballs."

"Sounds good to me," Annie said.

Jake doubted that anything < at a dive like this was likely to be very good, but he might as well go along. "I'll have the same."

"And could you please bring us an extra plate for the baby?" Annie asked.

"Sure thing."

Annie reached for a package of crackers, opened it, and handed a Saltine to Madeline. "I'm pretty sure you didn't drop everything and drive to Lucky just to sample the blue-plate special." "

“No.”

Annie's eyes locked on his, her face tense. "You've gotten the test results, haven't you?"

"Yes." He reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a folded yellow paper and placed it in front of her. "It's right here."

Annie stared at the paper, but didn't reach for it. "I'd prefer just to hear."

"It's positive." Jake couldn't repress a smile. The news made him feel like he was walking on air. "I'm Madeline's father."

Annie sagged back against the booth. "I knew it."

"I did, too, but the test confirmed it. The DNA markers all matched. The accuracy rate is ninety-nine point nine percent."

Annie slowly nodded.

Jake gazed at her, trying to read her expression. "So. . . are you upset?"

Annie sighed and leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "I don't know. A week ago, I would have thought it was the end of the world. But you've been so kind during my illness... " She reached for her water glass and took a sip, eyeing him over its rim, as if she were trying to see into his soul. "Of course, I realize it's to your benefit to be that way."

Jake's stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck. It's pretty obvious you want to win me over so I'll willingly share custody of Madeline."

Her bluntness was disarming—the complete opposite of the fencing and dodging he was accustomed to dealing with on a daily basis. He decided to respond just as bluntly. "So how am I doing?"

To his relief, she grinned. "Pretty well, actually."

Jake smiled back. That blast of heat surged between them again, radiating back and forth. A person would always know where he stood with Annie Hollister, Jake thought. He liked that: He liked that a lot.

She reached for another pack of crackers. “But just because you're relatively nice doesn't mean I'm ready to sign any papers." She pulled open the cellophane and handed the crackers to Madeline. "I still don't know much about you."

"So what do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"That's a pretty broad topic."

She twisted the cracker wrapper as if she were wringing it out. "Well, for starters, tell me about your family. Does Madeline have any extended family? Any aunts or uncles or cousins?"

Jake leaned back against the vinyl booth. "I'm an only child. As for family, it's pretty much just me." "Tell me about your parents."

"Well, they were both neurologists."

Annie's eyebrows rose high. "Both of them?"

Jake nodded. "They lived and breathed neurology. They specialized in research. They were obsessed with unlocking the secrets of the human brain."

"Wow. So Madeline's grandparents were a pair of geniuses."

Jake gave a wry grin. "Pretty much. Sometimes i think the only reason they had me was to combine 'their genes and produce the ultimate neurologist."

"What made you decide not to become one?"

"I was a disaster at science. I nearly blew up the high school chemistry lab, and the poor frog I dissected in biology looked as if 'he'd been on a bad date with Jack the Ripper."

Annie smiled.

"They tried not to show it, but I know my folks were disappointed," Jake found himself saying.

"Oh, surely not."

"Trust me. They were." Annie's eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like sympathy, making him anxious to change the topic. "What was your family like?" he asked.

Annie looked down and sighed. "Well, we didn't have what you'd call a happy home life. My parents fought like cats and dogs. Like a typical kid, I thought it was all my fault. They stayed together for my sake, but they were miserable."

"After coming from a home like that, you''d think you'd be gun-shy about marriage."

Annie gave a dry smile. "I wish I had been. I got married right out of college, when I was still in the trying-to-please-my-parents phase, thinking it was my job to make them happy. Nate was a topic they both agreed on. He was smart, well-educated, from a good family...." She looked down at the cracker wrapper.

"Unfortunately, he was still in love with someone else, and he married me on the rebound. As he got over the girl that got away, he got over me, too."

Jake drew his brow together. "That must have been rough."

She gave a single nod. "We didn't quite make it to our first anniversary. He said our marriage was a mistake, that he didn't love me as I deserved to be loved." Annie gave a small smile. "He was right, of course, but that didn't make it hurt any less."

"You loved him." For some reason, he found the thought distressing.

Annie lifted her shoulders. "I thought I did." She untwisted the cracker wrapper, then started twisting it the other direction. "As time passed, though, I realized I loved the idea of putting down the roots I never had as a child, of having a quiet, peaceful relationship. Nate seemed like a good bet because he was nonconfrontational. We never argued. Of course, we never really talked, either—not in a deep, meaningful, heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul kind of way. I was always worried about not rocking the boat." She gave a wry smile. "I'm talking more freely to you right now than I ever did to him."

Before he could quite figure out whether that fact pleased or alarmed him, she turned the conversation around. "What about you? What was your marriage like?"

Jake shifted uneasily on the vinyl booth. "Great." Annie rested her chin in her hands and sighed wistfully. "You were one of the lucky ones, huh?" "That's not how it feels now."

She regarded him somberly. "No, I suppose not. So, are you dating anyone now?"

The question jarred him. "No."

"Why not?”

"Well, there's no point. There will never be another Rachel."

"No, but there could be someone else."

"Anyone else would just be second-rate."

Annie gazed at him for a long moment. "So you don't intend to ever have another relationship?"

He shook his head.

"But what about.. . you know..

"What about what?"

Annie shot a surreptious look at the baby, who was munching a cracker, and leaned forward. "What about sex?" she whispered.

Jake stared at her. "What about it?"

"Well ... are you going to live the rest of your life without it?"

What a depressing thought! "I, uh—I don't think about it in those terms." Or, he hadn't until now. Crimony—why had she had to put it that way? He'd come here so happy. Now he was seriously bummed. "I take it a day at a time."

"So what do you do when you're. . . you know ... ?"

Good Lord, but she was nosy. He glared, irritated at her for raising the spectre of lifelong celibacy, ready to put her in her place. "When I'm horny?"

She should have blushed, but she didn't. "Yes."

"I take care of myself," he said belligerently. "What about you?"

"I. . ." She at least had the grace to look down at the plastic cracker wrapper in her fingers. "Well, I do the same."

Unbidden images flashed through his mind—hot, steamy images of Annie, naked in her bed, her hands running over her own body. Jake's pulse roared in his ears, and his mouth went dry. "Well, then, I guess we're in the same boat."

"For the time being, I suppose." She twirled the cracker wrapper around her pinkie. "My knight hasn't ridden up on a white charger yet, but I still have hope." She gave the wrapper a final twist, then looked up, her eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like pity. "It must be awfully sad not to have any hope."

How in blue blazes had they gotten on this topic? Jake took a long gulp of water, using the glass as a shield from eyes that seemed to see too much, then set it down on the Formica tabletop harder than he'd intended. He was relieved when the waitress arrived and set two heaping plates of spaghetti in front of them, along with an extra plate for Madeline.

He watched Annie cut a meatball into baby-sized bites. It was time to steer the conversation to the purpose of his visit. "Now that we know I'm definitely Made-line's father, I'd like to draw up a custody agreement."

Annie froze, her knife in the air. "We don't need anything in writing. You can just come see her whenever you want."

"That's what you say now, but situations change." He leaned forward. "I want to be a real father to her. I don't just want my name on her birth certificate—although I definitely do want that."

"What else do you want?"

"Joint custody."

She looked at him, her eyes round and scared, her face white. "What does that mean? That she'd live with you half the time?"

"Well, not exactly half. The custodial parent—that would be you—has the child the majority of the time. All throughout the school year, for example."

"But you'd have her for weekends and summers and holidays?"

"Well, we'd have to work all that out."

Annie stared at him. "You want me to spend several months of every year without my child?"

Jake moved his plate to the side and folded his hands on the table. "Annie, be reasonable. I'm her parent, too. She deserves to grow up knowing both of us. And, of course, I intend to provide child support."

"I don't need your money."

"From the stack of bills sitting in your kitchen, I'd say otherwise."

Her eyebrows rose. "You looked through my bills?"

He shrugged. "They were right by the phone. Sorry."

She looked like she was about to take the child and bolt. He decided to back off. "Look, we don't have to do this right now," he said.

"What would you do with her while you're at the office? Leave her with a nanny? Put her in daycare? Why would you want a stranger taking care of your child, when she could be with her own mother?"

Jake raised his hands in a placating gesture. "We wouldn't have to split physical custody right away. She needs you. I can see that. I just want to be as much a part of her life as possible."

"Well, you're welcome to come see her whenever you want."

"I appreciate that. And that's fine for right now." "So why don't we just leave it that way?"

"Because things change. You might remarry or move away...."

"I'm not moving anywhere."

"You say that now, but who knows what may happen in the future? You just said you'd like to meet Mr. Right." He reached out and covered her hand with his. It was a calculated gesture, one he used often with female clients to persuade them to see things his way, but this time, it backfired. The feel of her warm, soft hand was lessening his resolve. "Look—this is for the protection of both of us. Why don't I draft up a preliminary agreement, just something to use as a starting point, then you can show it to your attorney and think about it. I won't push you to sign anything you're not comfortable with." He tightened his fingers around hers. "Okay?"