Amanda's Child

by Rebecca York

  He hadn’t left the hospital, but sometime during the night, his friends had brought him a change of clothing. Then they’d made him shower and get a few hours’ sleep, pointing out that he wouldn’t do himself or Amanda any good by falling on his face from exhaustion.

  Now he marveled at the perfectly formed little fingers clamped around one of his. His daughter’s fingers. The child who belonged to him—because he claimed her as his own. As much his as any flesh of his flesh could be.

  Mesmerized by the contact, he felt his eyes mist as he thought how easily he could have lost this precious new life. Or lost Amanda—the woman he’d fallen in love with before he knew what was happening to him.

  He turned his head toward his wife, watching her sleep, wanting to take her in his arms and hold her close. He needed that contact. But he wasn’t selfish enough to wake her. She’d been through an ordeal that would have killed her and their daughter if he and Miguel hadn’t gotten to her in time.

  So, much as he longed to tell her how much he loved her and how awed he was by her bravery, he stayed beside the bassinet, talking in low tones to Bethany, telling her all the good news he desperately wanted her mother to hear.

  “The Light Street Detective Agency came through for us,’’ he said. “Randolph Security turned the Logan case over to them, with Hunter working as a liaison to one of their new partners, Hannah Dawson. She’s really something. One of the best investigators I’ve ever met.

  “Thanks to her, Roy Logan’s in jail. And so are the members of the Las Vegas syndicate—the ones Logan didn’t knock off. It was the syndicate that raided Tim Francetti’s office, stole his records and had him killed. The Denver police have proof of that now. So we’re in the clear.

  “Marbella was the head of the organization. He kept up a lily-white front, but he and his buddies were the ones who had Colin killed, too, because his L.A. drug connection would have contaminated their squeaky-clean operation—and the Nevada Gambling Commission might not have given them a license. So when Uncle Bud came to them trying to trade you and your mom for their safety, they thanked him for the information—then got rid of him, too.’’

  He swallowed hard. “But the best news of all is about you.’’

  “What?’’

  It was Amanda who had spoken, of course, and Matt’s head whipped around. His heartbeat quickened when he saw that his wife was awake. Her eyes softened as they focused on him and Bethany.

  “How long have you been playing possum?’’ he asked, carefully pushing the baby’s bed so that he maintained the contact with his daughter while he moved closer to his wife.

  “I woke up when you started talking to her.’’

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you.’’

  “I know. But I don’t mind. I got to hear the news report.’’

  “All good news.’’

  “Yes.’’ She reached out a hand, and he linked his fingers with hers, so that he was holding on to the two people who mattered most to him in the world—the two people he had almost lost. Moisture stung his eyes, and he blinked to clear his vision.

  “You said the best part was about Bethany?’’

  Matt cleared his throat. “First of all, she’s fine. And second, she’s not Colin’s child.’’

  Amanda’s face held a mixture of relief—and skepticism. “How could that be true? How do you know?’’

  He began enumerating the facts he’d been bursting to tell her. “Colin’s blood type was A positive. We got that from the records of the Highton clinic. The hospital did blood work on you and Bethany after they admitted you. Your blood type is O positive. Hers is AB positive.’’ He felt his throat tighten painfully. “Like mine,’’ he finished.

  Amanda stared at him. “Like yours,’’ she repeated softly, her features suffused with wonder.

  “Yeah. So she can’t be Colin’s. Francetti made a mistake. Or he made it up, so he could offer you and Bethany to Logan.’’

  “Oh, my God,’’ she breathed, her eyes shifting to the baby, who must have sensed that her mama and papa were talking about her, because she stirred, turned her head and started to cry.

  “I think she’s hungry. Would you give her to me?’’ Amanda asked.

  Matt carefully lifted the tiny bundle from the bassinet and placed her in his wife’s arms.

  “Can you crank up the bed a little?’’ she requested.

  He complied, then watched Amanda open the front of her gown, and lift the baby to her breast. After a few moments Bethany found her mother’s nipple and began to suckle.

  Matt moved closer, awed by the connection between mother and child—so simple yet so complicated.

  “She knows how to do it,’’ he whispered.

  “Our daughter is a smart little girl.’’

  “Our daughter,’’ he repeated. “I can still hardy believe it. AB is the rarest blood type. And hers, too.’’

  “I’m glad,’’ Amanda answered, holding out her free arm. “Come up here and hold me.’’

  “Do you think it’s allowed?’’

  “I think I earned the right to have my husband’s arm around me.’’

  “God, yes!’’ he answered, easing onto the bed beside her and cradling her close, stroking his lips against her cheek as she nursed the baby. “I’m in awe of you.’’

  “It’s not that hard to nurse a baby.’’

  “I’m talking about holding off an invading army.’’

  “I think I had a little help.’’

  “Don’t be modest, sweetheart.’’ He let his fingers slide through her beautiful blond hair. “I love you,’’ he murmured. “Have I told you that recently?’’

  She snuggled against him. “You can tell me anytime you want. As long as you’re willing to keep hearing the same thing from me. Matt, I love you so much.’’

  He felt his eyes mist again and struggled to get control of his emotions, aware again of how much this woman had given him—of how much he needed her and their child. Without them, he’d been living only half a life.

  She turned her head toward him. “Is everything you said really true? Are we safe?’’

  “It’s all true!’’ He laughed. “And Randolph Security has been holding my back pay, so we can use it for a down payment on a house outside of Baltimore. All the Light Street women are chomping at the bit, waiting to meet the woman who snared the notorious bachelor, Matt Forester. They’ve already started organizing a baby shower. And Hannah Dawson, the P.I. who worked on the case, is anxious to fill you in on the details of the investigation.’’ He stopped, realizing that he was babbling. “I mean…I guess I’m getting ahead of myself,’’ he amended. “We never talked about where we’re going to live—whether you want to go back to the ranch.’’

  “I want to live in Baltimore, where your work is,’’ she answered promptly. “Where your friends are. You’ve told me so much about them, I feel like I know them already. I’m going to sell the ranch. Then we’ll have enough money for an estate. Unless you’re too macho to let your wife help out with the finances,’’ she amended.

  “I’m not too macho.’’ He swallowed. “But do you really want to sell the property that’s been in your family for generations?’’

  “Living with you convinced me I don’t want to go back to Crowfoot. I want to be where it’s convenient for you. Because I can be happy anywhere. She looked down at the child nursing at her breast, then back at Matt. “Being Bethany’s mom and your wife, making a home for the two of you…’’ She paused, and her voice softened. “And…and maybe a sister or brother for her.’’

  “I’d like that,’’ he answered.

  “One more or two?’’

  “You’re ready to go through that again?’’ he asked remembering the agony on her face when he’d burst into the shelter and then when Miguel had turned Bethany so he could deliver her.

  “No.’’ She managed a small laugh that ended in a wince of pain. “I figure nothing can top that. A nice normal deliver
y in a hospital will be a piece of cake.’’

  “Oh, yeah.’’

  “And the next time I think I’m going to have a lot more fun getting pregnant,’’ she whispered, dipping her head.

  He crooked his finger under her chin and brought her face back to his. “You can’t be thinking about that.’’

  “Well, it’s a little soon…but I know I will be.’’ The flush he loved so much spread across her cheeks. “See what you did? You turned a little virgin country girl into a woman.’’

  “My woman.’’ His arm tightened around her.

  “Your woman,’’ she agreed. “For as long as you want me.’’

  “Forever. Definitely forever,’’ he answered as he tightened his arms around his wife and child, thanking God for the twists of fate that had brought them both into his life.

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-5037-9

  AMANDA’S CHILD

  Copyright © 2000 by Ruth Glick

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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