Desperately Seeking Dad

by Marta Perry

  “That’s when you went into the military?”

  He nodded. “Nobody needed me here.” She probably knew he was thinking of his family, disintegrated completely by that time, thanks to his father.

  She reached toward him, as if to offer comfort. But when her hand touched his, something far more vivid than comfort flashed between them.

  Firelight reflected in the eyes that met his—wide, aware.

  He shouldn’t. But he couldn’t help it. He leaned forward until his lips met hers.

  The kiss was tentative at first, and then he felt her breath catch. Her lips softened against his. He drew her closer, inhaling the warm sweet scent of her. He didn’t want this to end.

  Her hands pushed against his chest, and he released her instantly.

  She drew back, cheeks flushing, eyes not quite meeting his. “I think I’d better go.” She shot off the couch.

  Choking down his disappointment, he nodded.

  He could try to pretend it hadn’t happened, but that wouldn’t work. He’d blown it. This time he’d really blown it. He’d given in to the need to hold her, and now she’d never want him near her again.

  Chapter Eight

  Mitch shoved his desk chair away from the computer hard enough to hit the wall. Why wasn’t he finding anything on the elusive Marcy Brown? It was as if the woman had vanished off the face of the earth.

  Wanda would probably do this search better than he could, but he wasn’t about to involve her in it. No, he’d just have to struggle on and hope he didn’t drive himself crazy before he came up with something.

  He couldn’t kid himself that his current state of frustration had much to do with his lack of success. The problem gnawing his gut and tangling his nerves was a lot more personal than that: Anne, and last night’s kiss.

  How had he let himself do that? In fact, how had he let the entire situation happen? He’d told Anne things about himself that he’d never told anyone else, and what he hadn’t told her she’d guessed. And then he’d capped his indiscretion by kissing the one woman in the world he should have had sense enough to keep his hands off.

  The trouble was, he’d let himself become attracted to Anne. He frowned at the chair where she’d sat that first day, when she’d dropped her bombshell into his life. She’d been an unwelcome intrusion, maybe even a threat. Now…

  Now she’d become important to him. But even if it hadn’t been for the complication of Emilie’s parentage, she was out of his league. And even if none of that existed, there would still be an impenetrable barrier between them. All she wanted was a family, and that was the one thing he’d decided a long time ago that he’d never have.

  His fists clenched on the arms of the chair. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Those Donovans are all alike. You hear that often enough when you are a kid, you get the message. He wouldn’t risk being the kind of father his had been.

  He reached toward the keyboard. Find Marcy Brown. That was the only useful thing he could do.

  The telephone rang. He frowned, snatching it up. Hadn’t he told Wanda not to disturb him?

  “Mitch, Wanda said you were busy, so don’t you go blaming her.” Kate sounded more flustered than usual. “I just had to talk to you, and I’ve got to leave in a few minutes.”

  “Leave? Where are you going?” Kate never left the bed-and-breakfast when she had a guest. It was unheard of.

  “My sister’s had a bad fall, maybe broken her hip.” Kate’s voice trembled on the verge of tears. “I just don’t know, at her age, what we’ll do if it’s broken.” She took an audible breath. “I’ve got to go, right now.”

  “Of course you do,” he soothed. “I’m sure Anne won’t mind moving to another bed-and-breakfast, under the circumstances.”

  “Well, we’ve got that taken care of. Anne says she’d rather stay here, since she’s got the baby settled and all. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, and she says they’ll be just fine.”

  “Then you don’t have to worry, do you? You just get on to your sister’s and call if there’s anything you need.”

  “That’s just it. I need your help.”

  “You’ve got it.” Kate surely knew by now that she could count on him.

  “I want you to look in on Anne and the baby. Promise me, now.”

  “I’m sure Anne…”

  Doesn’t want me looking in on her. That’s what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t.

  “Please.” Worry laced Kate’s voice. “Anne didn’t feel well when she came in last night, I could tell. I want you to check on them.”

  If Anne hadn’t felt well, it was probably because of what had happened between them, but he could hardly say that to Kate.

  “All right. I promise I’ll look in on Anne and the baby.”

  And somehow or other I’ll keep my hands off her and my feelings in check.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Kate hovered at the door, car keys in hand, a worried expression on her face.

  “We’ll be fine,” Anne said for what seemed the tenth time. Kate’s worries about her sister were undoubtedly spilling over onto everyone else. She balanced Emilie on one hip and gave Kate a reassuring smile. “We’re used to being by ourselves, don’t forget.”

  “You’ve been looking a little pale since last night.” Kate frowned. “Are you sure…”

  “I’m fine.” Except for a monster of a headache and the feeling I’ve made a complete fool of myself. “You go on. And if there’s anything else you want me to do here, just call and let me know.”

  Kate nodded, finally edging her way out the door. “Mitch will be by to see if you need anything. He promised.”

  She felt the smile stiffen on her face. “He doesn’t have to do that.”

  “I’ll feel better if he does.” Kate turned, waved bye-bye to Emilie, and started down the steps. Apparently the thought that Mitch was in charge gave her enough confidence to leave.

  Anne closed the door and leaned against it. The last thing she needed or wanted was to have Mitch checking up on her. After last night’s fiasco, she didn’t know how she’d manage to look him in the eye.

  What had gotten into her? She’d practically invited him to kiss her. And when he had, she’d bolted like a scared rabbit.

  She hadn’t been prepared for the devastating effect of his lips on hers—that was the truth of the matter. She’d been involved in the closeness of the moment, responding to his openness with her. She’d told herself they were becoming friends. The next moment they’d touched, and she’d known this was something much more powerful than simple friendship.

  She rubbed her temples wearily. Maybe if she could get rid of this headache, she could think about the whole subject rationally. Her cheeks felt hot, and her ability to reason seemed to have vanished. Emilie’s teething had given her a restless night and too much wakeful time remembering that moment in Mitch’s arms.

  “How about a nap?” She stroked the baby’s cheek. “Okay? Emilie will take a nap and Mommy will, too. Then we’ll both feel better.”

  And then maybe she could get her composure back in place before she saw Mitch again.

  It was nearly suppertime, and none of those things had happened. Emilie fussed, chewing restlessly on a teething biscuit, then throwing it on the floor. The fourth time Anne picked it up, she decided her head would probably explode if she bent over one more time.

  You couldn’t get sick if you were a single parent. She’d come to that realization at some point in the last few months. You just couldn’t, not unless you had a reliable baby-sitter on tap. At home in Philadelphia there were a half-a-dozen people she could call.

  But she wasn’t at home, and the only person she knew well enough to call in Bedford Creek was the one person she definitely would not call.

  She bounced the wailing baby on her hip and started down the stairs. She’d better get the teething ring she’d put in the refrigerator to chill. Maybe that would soothe Emilie.

&nbs
p; A wave of dizziness hit her halfway down. She sat abruptly, clutching Emilie, and leaned her head against the rail.

  “It’s all right.” She patted Emilie, wishing someone would say that to her. “It’s going to be all right. We’re fine.”

  The knock on the door sounded far away, too far away for her to do anything about it. Maybe whoever it was would just go away.

  Thirty seconds later the door clicked open. Mitch appeared in the hallway. “Anne?” He looked, then took the steps two at a time and knelt beside her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She made a valiant effort to straighten up. “I’m fine.”

  “Funny, you don’t look fine. Your cheeks are beet red, and your eyes are glazed.”

  “Thanks,” she muttered. She should have been offended, but it took too much effort.

  He put his hand on her forehead. His palm felt so cool. She just wanted him to leave it there until the throbbing in her temples went away.

  “You’re running a fever.” He touched Emilie’s cheek. “What about the baby? Is she sick, too?”

  She struggled to concentrate. Okay, she was sick. No wonder she felt so bad. “Just teething, I think.”

  “Come here, little girl.” He lifted Emilie from her arms. “Are you feeling cranky? Let’s give Mommy a rest.”

  To her astonishment, Emilie’s wails ceased. The silence was welcoming.

  “Thank you.” She forced herself to focus. “If you could just bring me her teething ring and a bottle, maybe I can get her settled.”

  “Settled? You don’t look capable of picking up a marshmallow, let alone a baby.” His arm went around her. “Come on. I’ll help you to bed.”

  She couldn’t resist leaning against that strong arm, even though she knew she shouldn’t. “I’m fine, really I am.”

  “I know.” He sounded amused. “You can do it yourself. But this time you can’t, literally.”

  He stood, taking her with him, apparently not having a problem carrying the baby and lugging her, too. She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, aware Mitch was almost carrying her.

  When they reached the suite, he plopped Emilie in her playpen, to which she immediately objected. Anne winced at her cries and reached for her.

  “No, you don’t.” Mitch steered her toward the bedroom. “The last thing that baby needs is to get whatever bug you have. Do you want me to call a doctor for you?”

  She shook her head, the movement making her wince again. “It’s probably just the twenty-four-hour virus Kate says has been going around. I’ll be fine, honestly.”

  “After you get some rest.” He half carried her to the bed and sat her down. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Emilie.”

  She wanted to object, but the bed felt so good after a mostly sleepless night. She slid down bonelessly, her head coming to rest on the cool, smooth pillow.

  “Just a little nap,” she murmured. “Then I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll bring you some water.” Mitch pulled up the quilt and tucked it around her gently. Her eyes closed. She thought she felt his fingers touch her cheek, and then she heard him move away.

  Just a short nap, that was all she needed. She slid rapidly toward sleep. Just a short nap.

  The baby was still crying. Well, one thing at a time. Mitch crossed to the playpen and picked up Emilie. This time no magic happened—she continued to wail, although the volume decreased.

  “Okay, little girl, it’s okay.” He bounced her on his hip the way he’d seen Anne do when she fussed.

  “Everything’s going to be all right. Mitch will take care of you.”

  Yeah, right. It was one thing to give a baby a bottle and then hand it back when it cried. Taking complete care of one was something else entirely.

  Emilie seemed a little calmer when he talked, so he did his thinking out loud. “I guess I could call somebody else to help. Wanda, maybe.”

  It seemed to be working. The baby’s sobs quieted to whimpers, and she looked up into his face.

  “But do I really want to do that? Open us up to her curiosity? No, I don’t think so.”

  Besides, he’d told Anne he’d take care of them.

  “So I guess you’re stuck with me.” He smiled at Emilie. She smiled back, and he felt as if he’d struck gold. “Let’s get some water for your mommy, and we’ll look for that teething ring she mentioned.”

  He tickled Emilie, getting a belly laugh that startled and amused him, then headed for the kitchen.

  It was harder than it looked to manipulate a glass of ice water, a bottle of aspirin and a baby. He didn’t want to put her down, because she might start crying again. He had an uneasy suspicion that if she did, he wouldn’t find it so easy to stop her.

  “Okay.” He stuffed the aspirin bottle in his back pocket and set the water pitcher back in the refrigerator with his free hand. “Let’s get this up to Mommy. Maybe I’ll have to ask her where the teething thing is.”

  He started to close the door, then realized that pink, gel-filled donut looked out of place in Kate’s refrigerator. “Hey, is this yours?” He held it out to Emilie, who grabbed it and stuffed it in her mouth. “I guess so.”

  He picked up the glass. “One more time up the stairs, okay?”

  Emilie seemed content to be put in her playpen now that she had the teething ring to chew on, so he deposited her and tiptoed into the bedroom.

  Anne lay on her side, one hand under the pillow. Her black hair tumbled about her face, curling damply on her neck. He brushed it back, resisting the urge to let his fingers linger against her soft cheek.

  “Anne.” He hated to disturb her, but she probably should take something for the fever.

  She stirred, and her eyes opened, focusing on him.

  “I brought you some aspirin and a glass of water.”

  She nodded, propping herself on one elbow long enough to down the tablets with a thirsty gulp of water. “Emilie…”

  “Emilie’s fine. I found the teething ring, but you’d better tell me what to feed her and when.”

  “I’ll get up.” She started to push the quilt aside, and he tucked it back over her firmly.

  “No, you’re not getting up. I can feed Emilie. Just tell me what I need to know.”

  She sank back on the pillow, apparently realizing she wasn’t going anywhere very soon. “The baby food’s down on the kitchen counter. Give her—” she frowned, as if trying to concentrate “—give her something with meat and a fruit. That’ll be fine for now.”

  Her eyes drifted closed.

  Which fruit? he wanted to ask. What about a bottle?

  But already she’d slid into sleep, her breath soft and even, her lashes dark against pale skin. She looked vulnerable, and he had a ridiculous urge to protect her. He shook his head. In such a short time she’d touched some tender place in his soul, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get her back out again.

  Mitch went quietly back out to the living room of the suite and looked down at Emilie, who was gnawing on the teething ring. “Well, I guess it’s just you and me, kid. Tell you what, you cooperate, and we’ll get along just fine.”

  Supper, he decided. Feed her, and then she’d go to sleep, right? He carried her down to the kitchen.

  Luckily, Kate had already set up a high chair. Unluckily, Emilie didn’t seem to want to go into it. She stiffened her legs, lunging backward in his arms.

  “Come on, sweetheart. A little cooperation here.”

  Emilie didn’t agree. Trying to put her in the high chair was like trying to fold an iron bar.

  He’d seen Anne put some small crackers on the tray when they’d been in the café. Maybe that would work. He gazed around the kitchen, looking for inspiration. He found a small box of crackers stacked with the jars of baby food. Quickly he shook a few onto the tray.

  “Look, Emilie. You like these.”

  She stopped in mid-cry at the sight.

  Holding his breath, he slid her into the high
chair. She snatched one of the crackers and stuffed it in her mouth.

  “Okay, one problem solved.” He fastened the strap around her waist, then turned to the array of baby food on the counter. “Let’s see what looks good.”

  Actually, as far as he was concerned, none of it looked good. He reminded himself that he wasn’t eight months old. Maybe to Emilie this stuff looked like filet mignon.

  He heated up the chicken-and-rice mixture.

  “Here we go, Emilie.” He shoveled a spoonful of chicken into her mouth.

  She smiled, and most of the chicken spilled right back out of her mouth, landing down the front of her ruffled pink outfit.

  Half an hour later Emilie was liberally sprinkled with chicken, rice and pears, to say nothing of the cracker crumbs. Also well adorned were Mitch’s shirt, the high chair and the floor. The way things had gone, it wouldn’t surprise him if some of the chicken had found its way into the house next door.

  “Maybe we’re done.” He lifted her cautiously from the chair, holding her at arm’s length, a new admiration for Anne filling him. She did this every day, and she didn’t have anyone to spell her.

  “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up.” He glanced at his shirt. “Me, too.”

  He carried her upstairs and eased open the door to the bedroom. Anne slept, still curled on her side. He tiptoed to the bed and touched her forehead. Her skin seemed a little cooler than it had earlier, unless he was imagining things.

  Okay, he could do this. He carried Emilie into the bathroom. He looked at the tub, then shook his head. No way. Emilie would do with a sponge bath tonight.

  By the time they were finished, Emilie was clean and he was wet. He bundled her into a sleeper and carried her out to the playpen. She settled without a murmur.

  He stretched out on the couch, wedging one of the small pillows under his head. He closed his eyes. Peace, heavenly peace…

  Sometime later a piercing wail split the air. He catapulted off the couch, heart pounding. Emilie. He reached her in a second, bent to scoop her up.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”