He punched in Sean Callan’s number. “We’ve got a situation here, Coach, that needs to be handled ASAP—and, by the way, you’re on speaker.”
“We know all about it. Yesterday’s rag circulated among management all day.”
“Well, I have an idea,” Dan said.
“So do we.”
“A press conference,” Dan continued. “All the legitimate stringers for major papers and all the national outlets—Associated Press, Reuters, you name it.”
“Exactly,” said Sean. “Beat ’em at their own game. I’ll tell Rick you’re on board. And he’ll get to top management.”
“Wait a minute,” Alexis called out. “Who’s Rick? And why a press conference? I thought we didn’t like the press. And aren’t you worried about Michelle’s picture being in the paper?”
“Nope,” said Dan, walking to the pantry, the phone connection still active. “I’d be much more worried if the paparazzi kept hiding out on the street. This way, they’ll be scooped by legit papers, and they’ll go hassle someone else.”
“Rick Thompson’s the head coach,” Dan continued. “I thought I wrote all these numbers down for you at the beginning.”
She shrugged, then turned in a slow circle, finally pointing at the side of the fridge. “There they are.”
But Dan knew she’d never consider calling any of his people. Not Ms. Independence.
“So, Ms. Brown,” came Sean Callan’s voice. “Are you on board with this?”
She hesitated. “I suppose, as long as my picture isn’t taken.”
“Can’t promise. But we’ll focus on Dan and the baby. The point is to spin the headline from you and your sister to a Dan the Daddy kind of thing.”
The call ended with Sean promising to have the details worked out by the time Dan got to the stadium that day. Alexis felt breathless.
“Boy, when you fellows make a decision, you follow through at the speed of light.”
Dan shrugged. “Maybe it’s a guy thing.”
“Nope,” replied Ally, handing the baby to her father. “I think it’s a Dan thing. And maybe a goal thing. You’re always talking about goals.”
His eyes brightened. “They keep life interesting.” And then he leaned over and kissed her. “Fair warning.”
Maria beamed. “Now we have a good story, no?”
“Oh, absolutely,” said Dan, pulling up his chair and reaching for his cereal. “A very good story, if the main character cooperates.”
HER LIFE WAS NOT FICTION, however, and real-life people didn’t fall into place like characters in a book. Sure, she had warm feelings for Dan. He was a great guy. Sensitive, kind, a wonderful father and up-front about learning everything he could about babies. She admired him for asking questions. Their relationship was geared to Michelle, the way it was supposed to be. And he hadn’t touched a drop of liquor in—well, she didn’t quite know in how long, but at least not since she’d been living with him.
With few exceptions, they almost always focused on the baby. Last Wednesday night had been a definite exception. He’d held her, comforted her and kissed her.
Now, it was almost noon the following Monday, and she was waiting for Louis to bring him home from the airport after yesterday’s game in Buffalo. Another win for New England, but she knew better than to offer too many kudos. Athletes seemed to be a very superstitious bunch. Rita, Nicky, and Joe, and their kids hadn’t held back their cheers, however, when they’d watched the Buffalo game with her and Michelle. She’d assumed Dan’s house was the usual family gathering place.
“Oh, no, Ally,” Rita had said when Alexis had mentioned it. “You’ll all be coming to my house after this—this—tabloid business is over. Grandma and Grandpa love to host the away games. We love everyone being together with us. And Thanksgiving is coming up, too.”
The “tabloid business” would be handled the next day at the press conference at Gillette Stadium. Over the weekend, however, there’d been a follow-up story, just as salacious as the first. Cal had found true kinship with the paparazzi, at both his daughters’ expense, and had manipulated Peggy to offer a quote.
If Alexis hadn’t known his M.O. so well, she would have puked. At this point, she laughed. Cal would never change because he didn’t want to. Peggy took care of him, and he was happy. Alexis had figured all that out when she was fourteen and hadn’t changed her mind. They were not her problem anymore.
A jingle of keys at the door distracted her. Instantly, her heartbeat quickened with excitement. Carrying the baby, she walked toward the front of the house.
Dan filled the doorway with his physical presence and filled the air with his energy. In two long strides, he was with them, a kiss for the baby and a quick hug for her, his arms going around them both.
“How are my girls?” he asked, while taking an excited Michelle and covering her with kisses. Without waiting for a response, he added, “I love coming home now.”
And I love seeing him walk through that door.
I love the light in his eyes when he looks my way.
I love fitting so well against him when he holds me.
And his kisses last night were incredible.
But does he see Ally or Kim’s angel?
Is he an alcoholic?
I’m a temporary nanny helping him out of a tight spot.
And I am in big trouble.
Alexis could see his happiness, feel his happiness. He was definitely a family man. No wonder the last few years had been a living hell for him. Well, that wasn’t her problem, either.
“It’s funny how you love coming home to a crowd, and I’ve always enjoyed living alone,” she said. “I never questioned it, never yearned for anything else. I guess I like my space. I like to focus on my own goals and enjoy my successes.”
His head whipped around. “But who do you share them with? Sometimes a person’s priorities shift, Ally. Take it from an expert.”
THE NEXT MORNING, ALEXIS found herself back at Gillette Stadium. The press corps was there in full measure. Reporters from newspapers and magazines, regional and national, all with badges to prove their credentials, crowded into a big meeting room.
“Time for the dog and pony show,” Dan whispered to her after the team’s PR person introduced him and laid out the process for the occasion. Dan would make a statement, show the baby, answer a few questions.
He stepped to the microphone with Michelle while Alexis remained in the background.
“I’d like you all to meet my daughter, Michelle Brown Delito. She’s four months old and the best gift a man could receive. Sometimes, a surprise works out absolutely perfectly.”
He paused, and Alexis nodded to herself. Clever timing, to buy a moment for the idea to sink into their consciousness.
“As you know,” he continued, “Michelle’s mother, Sherri Brown, is deceased. She is sorrowfully missed by all of us. But with my family’s help—and there are a lot of us—and the help of Michelle’s devoted aunt, Alexis Brown, my daughter will have plenty of women in her life, women who love her very much.”
He surveyed the crowd and invited their questions.
“So, are you going from Dapper Dan to Diaper Dan?”
Everyone laughed and Dan grinned. “I sure am. I’ve learned a lot about babies in the last month and can change a diaper pretty well now.”
“How will the baby affect your career? Are you going to retire earlier than planned?”
“Retire? Hell, no! I’ll be playing longer. My folks tell me kids cost money. A lot of money. So, hopefully, I’ll be working for years to come.”
So far, so good, thought Ally. Dan really knew how to handle reporters’ questions, from serious types to lighthearted ones.
“New England’s hot, Dan. The team’s hot. Three times before you’ve taken us to the Super Bowl and we’ve won twice. What about this year?”
“No comment.” His mouth tightened, his brows contracted. He shook his head.
And Alexis jumped forward.
“Dan concentrates on one game at a time. The team does, as well. You should know that by now,” she scolded. Two Super Bowl wins? Man, I need to look the guy up on Google.
Snap, snap, snap. Cameras clicked and flashed. Dan’s eyes gleamed with delight. Now his smile grew and he pulled her against him.
“How’s that for a defense? Meet my new coach,” he said. “Thanks to Alexis, I’ve learned how to take care of Michelle.”
“I have a question for Ms. Brown,” said a reporter. “You’re now living with Dan in his home, teaching him how to care for the baby. So, is that the only relationship between the two of you, or can we expect a different kind of announcement in the future?”
She felt Dan stiffen beside her and squeezed his arm.
Stepping to the mike, she said, “It’s really simple. You just heard the man say it, and you said it yourself. I’m the daddy coach. Dan and I both love Michelle. We believe the more people who love a child, the better off that child is. Now Michelle has two of us—two people whom she recognizes and loves. Two people who’d go to hell and back for her.”
“Well said, Alexis.” Dan took over, and Alexis stepped out of camera range again. “Dan,” called a voice from the back. “I want to check out some of the claims floating around. What, exactly, was your relationship with Sherri Brown?”
Alexis felt her stomach pinch, but forced herself to remain calm. Debunking Cal’s outrageous statements was the reason for the press conference.
Dan took a breath. Alexis knew the team’s PR rep had coached him on ways to respond to this inevitable question, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy.
“Sherri was a fan,” he began in a warm, steady voice. “I know I don’t need to tell you that fans and players sometimes strike up relationships. Not all of them are lasting ones. Neither of us was seeking anything long term when we met. We enjoyed each other’s company, but we soon moved on. We weren’t as careful as we could have been, and Michelle is the delightful result.”
Alexis relaxed slightly. Dan had put a positive spin on the situation. It was going to be all right.
“Mr. Delito, when did you find out Sherri Brown had been murdered?” barked a brittle-looking woman in the front row.
The question struck Alexis like a punch in the gut. Even now, the words Sherri and murdered sounded obscene in the same sentence.
Dan, however, maintained the same calm voice. “I found out last month, from her sister, Alexis, at the same time I learned of Michelle’s existence.”
“Why didn’t Sherri tell you about the baby?”
Alexis closed her eyes. The questions felt like a volley of bullets.
“I can’t pretend to read Sherri’s mind. She had her own reasons, which she didn’t even share with her sister. Alexis learned I was the father the night Sherri died.”
Uh-oh. That might have been Dan’s first misstep. Alexis, so used to observing lawyers cross-examine witnesses, heard the next question in her head before it was even asked.
“So why did Alexis Brown wait three months to tell you?” the brittle woman asked.
Dan shot Alexis a warning look. Don’t rise to the bait, his eyes told her. Let me handle this.
She clamped her fingers around the edge of her seat to keep from flying out of it. It was almost impossible to stay quiet while he spoke for her, but she knew he was right. This was his show.
“Alexis was grieving her sister’s death,” he said slowly. “She was also dealing with police, courts and wills, as well and trying to care for a newborn. She didn’t exactly have a lot of spare time or energy on her hands.”
A gentle chuckle echoed through the room. Trust Dan to defuse the tension.
“Also, she had never met me. She didn’t know anything about me. Amazingly she’d never even seen a Patriots game.”
More laughter.
“What she did know was that Sherri had asked her to keep Michelle safe. And until she had the time and resources to find out a bit more about me, she wanted to be careful about revealing Michelle’s existence. Completely prudent, wouldn’t you say?”
Alexis noticed a couple of reporters nodding. She suppressed a small grin. He hadn’t been quite so sanguine about her secrecy when he’d first learned of it. But he was doing an excellent job now of pretending he had been.
He fielded a few more innocuous questions before saying, “We appreciate your support, ladies and gentlemen. You can always count on me for an interview concerning the team. Ms. Brown and I, and Michelle, too, appreciate your professionalism. Thanks for coming today. Now you may take as many pictures of Michelle and me as you’d like. In fact, take some great shots so the paparazzi won’t continue to stalk the ladies.”
Alexis heard murmurs of “class act” and “cute kid,” and “Dan, hold the baby up higher.” Dan complied. The photographers were focused on father and child, just as they should be. She heard Michelle gurgle her baby talk. The reporters now had a full story and could write their articles based on today’s discussion. Dan and the team’s management had accomplished their goals.
Satisfied and encouraged, Alexis was ready to put the paparazzi experiences behind her. She glanced at father and child just as Michelle lifted her head from Dan’s shoulder and spotted her. Immediately, the infant reached out and babbled. She squirmed, squealed and almost jumped from Dan’s arms. Then she started to cry.
Dan motioned Ally closer. In a moment, she stood next to him, holding a happy Michelle. Cameras flashed again, and Alexis understood that this time the pictures would include the three of them together.
Little Michelle had managed to make a statement of her own.
CHAPTER NINE
NINE DAYS LATER, ON Thanksgiving morning, the entire kitchen counter was covered with vegetables—fresh vegetables, canned vegetables—more produce than Dan had ever seen at any one time in any kitchen except at his family’s store. Ally stood in front of the sink, looking left, then right, then totally lost. Michelle was pounding on a toy on her play mat.
Standing in the doorway, hands high up against the frame, Dan said, “So, what’s going on?”
Ally threw him a halfhearted smile. “I volunteered to toss a salad. We can’t show up at your mother’s empty-handed, and I figured even I could throw a little salad together.”
“Little? Did you say little? You’ll need at least five bowls for all that stuff.”
She glared at him. “Maria bought a lot.”
“Oh, I get it. It’s the old ‘blame Maria’ story,” he teased, and then joined in when Alexis broke out laughing.
She sounded so free, so lighthearted, and looked so scrumptious, he couldn’t resist. In the midst of their silliness, he kissed her.
He could swear electricity crackled between them. He’d felt the spark when his mouth touched hers and she parted her lips, welcoming him in. So, he went further, tasting, touching, his tongue meeting hers in a getting-to-know-you-dance, and a wanting-to-know-you-better encore.
He held her, pulled her close and just breathed her in. His hands roved, stroking her shoulder, her side, then across her back, and lower, just above her bottom. He followed her waist and came around front, his thumb finding its way across her breast. He heard her gasp, then moan softly…and loved the sound. Brushing his finger across her nipple again, he felt it harden, heard the moan rev up a notch, this time with his name attached. And had to force himself to hold still.
Talk about hard. He was standing at stiff attention and was afraid he’d scare her off.
“Dan, Danny…” She kissed him again and seemed oblivious to his situation.
“Easy, baby, easy,” he soothed.
“What?” She shook her head, took a step back. He watched her breathe.
Full of confusion, those moss-green eyes appealed to him. “What are we doing?” she whispered. “This can’t be good.”
Her statements brought him up short. She was right. As wonderful as kissing her felt, it wasn’t a smart idea. They’d just finished telling a roomful
of reporters that they had a strictly business relationship. And he’d promised her he wouldn’t take advantage of her presence in his house. He had to try to be a man of his word.
He also had to make sure he was the man she deserved. Less than two months ago, he’d been drinking away his grief over Kim’s death. Was he truly over Kim? And was he truly free of the bottle?
Even though every muscle he possessed screamed out to touch Alexis again, he ignored the sensation. He was used to telling his body what to do. And until he knew the answers to those questions, he’d try to keep his relationship with Alexis friendly and warm, but not romantic. It was only fair to her.
Turning around and crossing the kitchen, he reached into an upper cabinet, pulled out two extra-large round trays and put one on each side of the sink. “So how’d you like to learn something new?” he asked, keeping his voice light. “I’m going to teach you how to make an Italian antipasto.”
“Sure! Just let me get a notebook so I can write everything down.”
He groaned. Loudly. Took her hands, and then thought better of it and dropped them.
“It’s not rocket science. Just follow what I do.”
“Okay, I will.” She laughed, a little shakily. “See, Danny. I’m following, and I’m going with the flow.”
He loved her playfulness.
He loved her courage.
But he had to back off. At least for now.
“BRACE YOURSELF,” SAID DAN several hours later. “There’s probably forty or fifty people in there. My folks keep adding to the guest list every year.”
As Dan pulled into his parents’ driveway, Alexis wondered how long they’d have to stay. At least an hour, she figured, maybe two, before they could politely make their getaway.
“It’s a good thing we made two antipasto plates, then,” she said.
“I had a lot of fun.”
“It’s always fun to make a big mess. But they look good, don’t they? Even mine.” She’d learned the craft of building a salad layer by layer, turning it into a work of art by not only using regular produce but also by adding cheeses, meats and fruits—like melon chunks wrapped in prosciutto—along with mounds of black and green olives in the middle. Dan had called it, “a feast for the eye and the stomach.”
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