Quarterback Daddy

by Linda Barrett

  “Truth, Dan. I must have the truth,” she said, her lips trembling. “You’re acting crazy. I don’t recognize you. Have you been drinking again?”

  SLEEPING WAS OUT. In her room across the hall from the baby’s, Alexis tossed and turned. She’d hurt him. She’d seen the shock, followed by a mask of indifference, after she’d asked her question. Then he’d taken the baby, changed her, fed her and put her to bed. The message had been loud and clear: nanny not required. She’d blown it, and her guilt surged further because Dan had really needed to soak in a hot tub, but he’d chosen to care for Michelle instead. He’d probably pay a price for that tomorrow.

  Vodka left no odor. She knew that much. Vodka was one of her father’s favorites for that very reason, so her suspicious nature had taken over. She knew nothing about what went on in the locker room after a winning game—except, of course, for all the sports drink that was poured on the coach sometimes. But maybe the guys tied one on. Or two. Dan had given her no real cause for suspicion. He’d been teasing, but she’d quickly jumped to the explanation that had always held up in the past when her parents had acted crazy. Alcohol. No wonder he was insulted.

  She switched on the nightstand lamp and got out of bed. If he was still up, he’d get an apology now. She’d left her door ajar, the better to hear Michelle in the middle of the night. Now she pulled it the rest of the way open—and almost crashed into Dan, whose hand was poised to knock.

  With his shaggy dark hair, luminous eyes and hooded lids, Dan looked like a man able to melt a woman’s bones. Caught by the image, she was totally adrift. Totally in trouble.

  “I’m sorry, Dan,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “I should never have asked that.”

  “If you think it, you should ask. I like things out in the open, which is what I wanted to tell you. You can’t feel comfortable living here if you’re afraid of me.”

  “But I’m not afraid of you. I know my way around alcoholics and their enablers. Sherri and I had plenty of practice in survival. Reading expressions, tiptoeing around, making ourselves scarce. Once, we invested our little bits of money to buy locks for our bedroom door to keep Cal—my father—out.”

  “What?”

  The horror in his voice had her shaking her head. “He never caught her—I mean, us. Luckily, he was usually so drunk when he looked our way, he never made it up the stairs. But we weren’t taking any chances.” She paused, memories haunting her. “His fists, I remember—they were big, they were fast. He wanted to be a boxer, a professional, when he was a kid. We didn’t always escape those fists.”

  She felt like crying, which was exactly the reason she didn’t like getting involved too closely with people, why she didn’t have a coterie of friends. Too much sharing. She didn’t need to talk about this stuff.

  Dan’s gentle hands stroked her cheeks, arms, shoulders.

  She wanted to lean against him, against his broad chest, but resisted.

  He pulled her in.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she repeated, this time mumbling into his shirt. “You’re not like Cal at all. If total abstinence works for you, like this week, then I’m all for it.”

  “You know all the labels, and I know nothing.”

  With his finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head back and leaned down. He was going to kiss her. She knew it, wanted it, had been waiting for it.

  Hold on, Brown. Yes, he’s attractive—oh my, yes. And yes he’s sympathetic and warm. But you’re an employee here, and he may well be a drunk. And don’t forget, he’s spent the past two years casually hooking up with women to forget his dead wife. Use your head.

  With the sort of determination that had seen her through childhood, through law school, through Sherri’s death, Alexis forced herself to pull away from him. His eyes widened, but he immediately stepped back. He cleared his throat.

  “Well, um, yeah,” he mumbled. “It’s getting late. I should let you get some sleep.”

  Her heart crumbled at the look on his face, but she stood firm. The deal when she’d agreed to work here was that there would be no romantic involvements. It was the only practical choice.

  “Yes, Michelle will have me up early. Gotta get my beauty rest.” She forced a lightness she didn’t feel into her voice. “Goodnight.”

  Without looking back, she walked into her bedroom and closed the door. Only when she heard Dan’s footsteps moving down the hallway did she allow herself to collapse against the wood and fantasize, just a little, about what might have been if they both hadn’t been so damned sensible.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  FOLLOWING DAN’S SUGGESTIONS, Alexis stayed close to home for the next few days. She finally appreciated Maria’s system of calling in food orders and having deliveries made. Michelle napped on the back patio, getting her fresh air, while Alexis sat with her, reading child-care manuals and highlighting items to discuss with Dan. In her view, however, she was living in a comfortable prison.

  By Tuesday, the photographers seemed to have disappeared. By Wednesday, she was bursting to be free, and when Dan called to say he’d be late that evening and every Wednesday thereafter, because he had to go to a meeting, she made up her mind to take a walk with Michelle. The day was chilly, but sunny blue skies beckoned. In early November, winter approached quickly. There would be snow in a few weeks.

  Caring for Michelle was like playing with a live doll, thought Alexis, as she dressed the baby for the weather. Michelle looked adorable in her pink-and-white snowsuit and knit hat with two pom-poms on top. Alexis attached the wind cover to the appropriate hooks on the stroller, stepped outside and glanced up and down the street.

  All seemed quiet. No double-parked cars. No one loitered, so she took a deep refreshing breath and started off at her usual brisk pace.

  In five minutes, her memories kicked in, reminding her of the days when she and Michelle lived alone, anonymously, and long walks through the city were part of their daily routine. A month seemed like a lifetime ago. Contacting Dan Delito had changed everything.

  She reached Charles Street and slowed down to browse the windows of its many antique and gift shops, something she’d never had time to do when she worked in the D.A.’s office. Although she knew nothing about them, the antiques captured her imagination. Similar items were displayed in Dan’s house.

  An hour later, she entered one of the lovely restaurants in the neighborhood, ready for a cup of tea and a place to feed and change the baby. The venue was crowded, and she had to maneuver the stroller to a table near the back. After removing Michelle’s outerwear and her own jacket, she finally sat down.

  The waitress appeared, took her order, then tapped her pencil on her pad. “You look familiar, but I don’t remember you coming in here before.”

  Alexis shrugged. “I seem to have one of those common faces. Everyone thinks they know me.”

  The waitress smiled. “Maybe so.” She shrugged. “I must be getting old, imagining things. I’ll be right back with the tea and sandwich.”

  “And I’ll be changing the baby in the ladies’ room.”

  Her food was just being served when Alexis returned.

  “Here’s your order, honey. Plus something extra. No charge.” The woman placed a newspaper on the table. “Thought I recognized you from somewhere,” she said before disappearing to assist other customers.

  It wasn’t a newspaper, but an entertainment tabloid. On the front page, a large close-up of herself stared back at Alexis. A younger version—a college photo. The slant of the story made her feel sick:

  ALEXIS BROWN REPLACES DEAD SISTER

  Hometown hero Dan Delito likes the Brown sisters so much, he fathered a baby girl with one and keeps the other locked away to care for her.

  Will the new baby soon have a sister of her own?

  The story continued, citing reliable sources of information, including an “official” interview with a certain Calvin Brown. Lies and more lies. Especially stunning when the man somehow connected Sh
erri’s “despair over Dan’s rejection” with her death.

  Alexis froze, too stunned at the moment to feel the disgust for Cal, the disappointment that always simmered somewhere inside her. Ever the manipulator, ever eager to make an easy buck, her father would make sure he got paid well for his mishmash of fact and fiction. This was exactly the type of story the tabloids loved, and to hell with the truth. Cal had a copy of the police report. He’d gotten the facts but had conveniently forgotten them.

  What to do? She had to get out of the restaurant. Then she’d think about suing the paper for libel. Or she could decide to ignore the article. She’d speak to Dan before making a decision.

  Reaching into her wallet to throw a few bills on the table, she began to pack up. But the baby was fussy and had to be fed. Taking a quick glance around the room, Alexis was relieved to note that everyone was busy with their own meals and conversations. She reached for the infant, sat back down and offered the bottle. Ever-greedy Michelle latched on and sighed.

  Tears welled in Alexis’s eyes. “I love you more than you can know, sweetheart. I promise to take good care of you.”

  Ten minutes later, she was ready to walk out the restaurant door. But when she opened it, the plethora of strobe lights blinded her, shocking her like an act of terrorism on a personal level.

  She stepped back inside and reached for her cell phone. Not to call Dan. She’d never interrupt a practice session, not when the entire world was watching every move the quarterback made. Not when millions and millions of dollars rested on him and his team. And besides, his appearance would be more food for the bottom-feeders.

  She punched in the number of the Sudbury Street police station, the closest station to Dan’s house. With just a little help from her colleagues, Alexis Brown could take care of herself.

  “YOU CALLED THE COPS instead of calling me?” Dan’s voice hit a high note of disbelief.

  Whoops. Had she made a mistake? His incredulous expression said she had, but at nine o’clock that night, she was too tired to cater to his ego, too frustrated to be polite. They hadn’t even discussed a possible lawsuit yet, which, of course, wouldn’t help right now. Would she ever be able to leave the house safely?

  “And what could you have done except add to the chaos on a public sidewalk? I’ve got a lot of friends among Boston’s finest in station houses all over the city. Where do you think I got cases to prosecute?”

  But he wasn’t listening. In the second-floor game room, Alexis watched Dan pace. “You could have called Louis,” he said. “He would have known what to do.”

  She inclined her head. “Possibly, but I didn’t think of him right then. I’ve worked with Sergeant Polikoff in the past, and he knew exactly how to handle the situation. He covered us with blankets and whisked us into his patrol car without an inch of our skin showing. He threw the stroller in the trunk. He was great.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So I’ll send him two tickets to the next home game,” he snapped. “Will that make you happy?”

  “Happy? What’s that got to do with anything?” She walked toward him with deliberate steps. “What’s gotten into you?” she asked, stabbing his chest with her index finger. “Michelle escaped pictures—” stab “—so did I.” Another stab. “Which was the whole point. What’s wrong?”

  And then she couldn’t speak. He captured her hand with his larger one, and his mouth covered hers in a kiss that sent a shock wave through her entire body. She responded to him immediately with equal fervor. His lips were hard on hers, hungry, devouring. He wrapped her in his arms, pulled her tightly against him. He was hard between her thighs, too, but she remained close, unafraid.

  This wasn’t about lovemaking, or about sexual intimacy. This was about his fear and need for reassurance.

  “Nothing’s wrong now,” he said, bestowing soft kisses on her neck, around her ear. “You’re safe, the baby’s safe. Just remember one thing, Ally.”

  She tipped her head back to see him better, his dark-as—midnight eyes capturing her. “What?” she whispered.

  “I take care of my own,” he said. “Always have, always will. So next time there’s a problem, sweetheart, you call me.”

  She swallowed hard. That philosophy wouldn’t work for her, and he wouldn’t understand. Stroking his face, she softly said, “Danny, I’m not your Kim. I’m healthy and strong. I can take care of myself. Always have, always will.”

  He didn’t blink, just kept his arm around her. “You missed the point. It’s not about health or stamina. You’re living under my roof, you’re family and I’m responsible. End of story.”

  Alexis knew any other woman would have swooned at the prospect of such safety and protection. But she was not any other woman.

  “That’s not the way it works, Dan, at least not for me. I’ve virtually been on my own since I was fourteen. I can navigate pretty well. You are off the hook.”

  She looked past his shoulder, eyes unfocused, not seeing anything but memories, scenes she rarely thought about anymore. “When I was a kid, I dreamed of running away and finding different parents for Sherri and me. Cal drank so much, and he was a real mean drunk. The place was a mess. My mother was useless. Sherri was so little and confused, and I promised to take care of her. But in the end, I didn’t, and she died.” Unprepared for the grief that slammed into her, she cradled her cramping stomach, her usual reaction to stress.

  “You helped save her child!” Dan protested. “Saving Michelle was the best gift of all. You are keeping your promise to Sherri.”

  His arms swaddled her now, and she felt kisses on her temple, as soothing and sweet as his words. She leaned into him, allowing herself to feel safe, allowing herself to depend on someone else—for a moment. Then she stepped back.

  “The man who killed her was an old boyfriend—that part was in the newspaper article. We found out later that the guy had just been released from prison. He thought Sherri would be waiting for him. When he saw she was pregnant, he went ballistic.”

  He emitted his familiar low whistle. “The cops told you?”

  She nodded. “A while ago. I have a copy of their investigation.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Surprised at the question, she didn’t respond for a moment. She never shared personal problems with anyone, and she hadn’t volunteered this information, either, not even to Roz. Maybe she should have.

  “You didn’t need to know,” she finally replied. “It’s not your burden to bear. It’s mine. You have your own demons.”

  “I’m working on those,” he said, “seriously working on them. But I could have helped you, Ally. We’re a team. We’re very good friends. And that’s what friends do.”

  Did “friends” kiss they way they just had? She decided not to ask. Instead, she said, “Telling you wouldn’t have changed the outcome. You couldn’t undo the crime.”

  “Oh, baby. You don’t get it.” He reached for her again, rocked her where they stood, her entire body touching his. “It’s not about the crime. It’s about the aftermath.”

  “I’m used to stomachaches afterward.”

  “Tell me more about what happened.”

  “All right,” she said, holding on to his hand. She began speaking slowly, each word an effort.

  “The perp had ID on him. They questioned his cell mates, his landlord, his parole officer—the works. That’s how they put the whole thing together. My sister was simply looking for love—” she gulped “—in all the wrong places.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ally. So very sorry about Sherri. But I know she would be happy you’re here with us. You’re the best mother Michelle could have.”

  She didn’t want to think anymore. Or talk anymore. She just wanted his arms around her again. “Could you just, uh, hold me for a little bit longer?”

  In an instant, she was tucked against him, her head on his broad chest. She heard his heart pounding in a strong, steady beat under her ear. At this moment, she needed someone strong and ste
ady by her side. But she knew it couldn’t last. When they’d promised to keep their relationship professional, they’d made the right choice.

  That didn’t mean she couldn’t take strength from his comfort for a few minutes more, though.

  “Thanks, Danny,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re a good listener.”

  “I told you, Ally,” he said in a voice as warm and smooth as caramel, “I always take care of my own.”

  “Even a temporary nanny?” She laughed, trying to keep things light as she reminded him that he was her employer and that she wouldn’t be living here forever.

  “Definitely. Especially the independent types.”

  Alexis cleared her throat. She didn’t want to say it, but it had to be said. “You know this can’t happen again, right?”

  “What?” he asked, all innocence but with a gleam in his eye.

  “This.” She nodded to their entwined bodies even as she pulled away from him. “We agreed when I got here that we’d keep things professional. I don’t think either one of us is ready for a relationship.” Especially the man with the weakness for beer and a heart that belongs to his dead wife.

  “I did promise, and I’m a man of my word.” He retreated a step and sighed. “Geez, it’s hard having integrity sometimes.”

  She smiled even as she yearned to return to the warmth of his arms. “Tell me about it.”

  MARIA HAD ALREADY ARRIVED when Dan entered the kitchen the next morning. Without a word, she laid yesterday’s fiasco on the table, and Dan realized for the first time that he’d never actually seen the story in print. His blood pressure spiked as he read. What smut. What salacious reporting. He’d help Ally sue their asses off.

  He waited until Alexis and Michelle had made their appearance and greeted Maria before picking up the phone. He glanced at Ally. “I figured out how to put the tabloids to rest, and I want you to listen in. I’m putting the call on speaker.”

  “Great. I’m open to any idea that guarantees me freedom and safety.”