Matchmaking Baby

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  So what if she had? Joanie blinked back hot, angry tears. “I didn’t want to listen to any more of your lies.”

  He grimaced. “And I didn’t want to waste my breath, which was all it would have been at that point.”

  Joanie blew out a tremulous breath. “So, the best happened,” she continued, recounting the end of their brief, heartbreaking liaison. “You went on to win your second Olympic gold medal the following summer. And you cleaned up in endorsement contracts after that and spent the next two years chasing beautiful women all over the world.”

  At her recitation, he lifted an interested brow and regarded her with a satisfied smile. “I see you kept up with me.”

  Not because she’d wanted to, Joanie thought. After the way he’d hurt her, she’d wanted only to forget him. And until he’d taken the job at Bride’s Bay, she almost had. “I try not to read the sports page,” Joanie responded coolly to his assertion, “but I do read Personalities magazine, and unfortunately you were in it from time to time.” Usually with a princess or famous model, she added silently.

  He knew without her saying what she was thinking. “Those women meant nothing to me.”

  His assurance was no comfort. “That makes me even gladder I wised up early,” Joanie said, looking away.

  “Is that why you didn’t return my calls?” he asked.

  “I didn’t return your calls because I saw no reason to do so,” Joanie said coldly. Restlessly, she walked to the open screen door and back again to the edge of the porch. “What I’d felt for you was over.”

  “Sure about that?” Steve taunted.

  “Yes!” Joanie flushed, then said, not too proud to admit it, “Sad to say, to you I was just another groupie in love with a famous athlete.”

  “Now hold on there a minute,” Steve said. “My memory isn’t that bad. You couldn’t have cared less about my celebrity status. You weren’t the least bit starstruck when we met.”

  Joanie swung around to confront him. What he’d said was true. She’d fallen in love with Steve Lantz the man, not Steve Lantz the star.

  “That’s what I liked most about you,” he continued, “the fact my celebrity didn’t blow your mind.”

  Joanie strode forward until they were standing toe-totoe. Hands on her hips, she glared up at him contentiously, heat flooding her senses as she recalled the uninhibited way she’d given herself to him. “I told you then and I’ll tell you again,” she said. “I’m not looking for someone rich and famous. I am looking for a regular guy with a regular job. Someone who could build a life with someone like me. Someone who will be content to live an ordinary, low-key life here on Jermain Island.”

  A muscle worked in his cheek as he stared down at her in obvious frustration. “How do you know that’s not me?” he demanded.

  Joanie rolled her eyes. “Get real.”

  He gave her a searing look. “Why do you think I took this job?”

  Joanie shrugged. “To torment me—probably because I’m the one who got away.”

  He stepped a little closer, so that their bodies were now less than half an inch apart. He regarded her for a long, thoughtful moment. “How do you know I don’t still have feelings for you?”

  They were so close Joanie could feel undulating waves of heat from his body. “Because you don’t love me,” she retorted, stubbornly holding her ground. “You didn’t then and you don’t now.” She arrowed a finger at his chest. “And furthermore, I don’t love you anymore, either,” she asserted boldly.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  “Well, we’ll just see about that.”

  The next thing Joanie knew, she was in his arms and he was delivering a kiss that took them both back in time. She could feel the hard length of him pressed against her, the pounding of his heart against hers, the firmness of his mouth. This was no gentle request, she thought as his tongue plundered her mouth, creating a storm of desire. He wanted her desperately, and he wanted her to want him, too. Before Joanie knew it, she was clinging to him. Shuddering in reaction and kissing him back madly as a flood of longing swept over her as effortlessly and timelessly as the tides. Even as she knew they were going too far too fast again, she could feel the proprietary quality of his kiss. The knowledge that somewhere, deep down, she was already his. And always would be. Only the sound of rapid footsteps on the walk stopped them. They drew apart, Joanie quickly, desperately, Steve slowly. Their eyes met. His told her that this was just the beginning. Joanie’s breath hitched in her chest. She felt some of the strength leave her legs. This was how it had happened before. Like magic. Out of nowhere.

  “Uh…sorry to interrupt, Joanie,” Shad Teach said.

  With an effort, Joanie pulled herself together. “Yes?” she said curtly, pushing her hair back into place. Ignoring the tingling of her lips, she turned and faced the hotel’s bell captain with as much self-assurance as she could muster. It wasn’t easy. At sixty-five, the darkly tanned Shad Teach was still every bit as wily, eccentric and mischievous as he had reportedly been in his youth. A descendant of Blackbeard the pirate, Shad wore a gold hoop in his left ear. Besides being famous for his tall tales and colorful expressions, Shad knew everything that went on at the hotel. And now he knew about her and Steve, too, Joanie thought miserably. Which meant the list of people who had witnessed the tension and the sparks between her and Steve was growing.

  Shad ran a hand across his mustache and he regarded her with his piercing blue eyes. “Liz wondered if maybe you could come up and work until midnight. With all the college kids roaming the resort, we really need you at the concierge desk. But she’ll understand if you can’t on account of Emily.”

  Joanie looked back at her quarters, where inside all was quiet and Emily was still apparently sleeping soundly. “Go ahead,” Steve said. “I’ll stay with Emily.”

  “I’ll be gone quite a while,” Joanie warned.

  “No problem. I’ll be here when you get back,” Steve promised.

  Joanie knew he would be. That was what worried her.

  LIZ WAS SEATED at the concierge desk when Joanie entered the lobby. “I heard you called a truce with Steve Lantz.” At Joanie’s look, Liz explained, “Columbia Hanes said you were quite congenial when the two of you fed Emily her supper.”

  Joanie tried to brush that off as inconsequential as she slipped behind the desk. “That’s no surprise. We were united in a common cause.”

  “And what a cute little cause she is,” Liz murmured.

  “A cute little cause without a mama or a daddy,” Joanie added. She had hoped to hear from the mysterious Fiona by now. The fact that she hadn’t worried her. This was beginning to appear to be more than a simple if unorthodox baby-sitting job.

  Liz frowned. Apparently she was thinking along the same lines. “Any further word from the woman who left her on your doorstep?”

  “No, not yet. But at least Emily is asleep and Steve is watching her.”

  “I told you he was a good guy,” Liz said.

  Joanie was saved from having to respond by a woman approaching the front desk. “I’ve got some errands to run,” Liz said, “so I’m going back to lock up my office and then I’ll be out of here.” Liz scooted away just as the woman, white-haired with kind blue eyes, reached the desk. She looked to be in her late sixties and was wearing a buttercup yellow jogging suit and sneakers. “My, you all are busy tonight,” she said.

  “Yes—” Joanie noted the college kids roaming the lounge, restaurant and lobby “—we are, aren’t we? How may I help you?”

  “I heard there was a bridge tournament going on this week. I’d like to sign up, if I may.”

  “And you are?” Joanie brought out the list.

  “Mrs. Frances Flannagan, in cottage 3.”

  Joanie wrote it out. “I’ve got you down. It starts the day after tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” Her business done, Mrs. Flannagan seemed reluctant to leave. Joanie thought she knew why. Mrs. Flannagan had checke
d in alone. According to their records, this was her first time at the resort. She seemed to be having a little trouble adjusting, which was probably intensified by the fact that, due to a glitch in her reservation, she’d been put in one of the cottages at the other end of the resort, instead of the hotel room she’d requested.

  “Is there a place to buy groceries on the island?” Mrs. Flannagan asked.

  “Yes.” Joanie smiled. “There’s a general store in the village that’s open every day from nine to nine. Whenever you’re ready to go, call the front desk and we’ll send a minivan over to get you.”

  “Thank you. Although I may just take all my meals in the hotel.” Mrs. Flannagan paused. Seeing no one behind her, she continued in a more gossipy tone, “Over dinner tonight I heard the most amazing thing. Is it true a baby was abandoned here this afternoon?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid so.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “It’s a she,” Joanie said. “And she’s in my room…with a friend.”

  “Poor little dear.” Mrs. Flannagan put her hand over her heart. “She must be so upset.”

  “Actually,” Joanie replied, “she’s not hysterical at all—which surprised me. I mean, she’s been asking for her mama periodically, which is normal under the circumstances, but she also ate a nice supper and let Steve and me give her a bath before I rocked her to sleep. Steve is with her now.”

  “Steve?”

  “Steve Lantz.”

  “The Olympic athlete?”

  “Yes. He’s staying with us through the weekend, too. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No,” Mrs. Flannagan said reluctantly, “I think I’m going back to my cottage and try to relax.”

  “You have trouble taking vacations?” Joanie said sympathetically.

  Mrs. Flannagan admitted this was so, then added, “I’ve never really had one all by myself before. I’m finding I don’t really know what to do with myself now that I have so much free time on my hands.”

  That was a common problem for people with very busy lives. They were so used to going full speed ahead they didn’t know how to slow down. Hence, vacations made them more tense, instead of less. The only way to calm them down, Joanie knew, was to fill up their days with pleasurable activities. As long as they had a schedule, they were usually content.

  “Do you play golf? No? If you want, I could set you up with some lessons with our pro. He’s really wonderful. And the course is beautiful—championship quality, in fact.”

  Mrs. Flannagan smiled. “Well, I imagine it’ll be some time before I’m a champion player, but yes, golf lessons would be very nice.”

  No sooner had Joanie finished setting that up and said goodbye to Mrs. Flannagan than one of the college kids walked up to her. The conference badge pinned to his polo shirt said his name was Dennis Wright and he was a student from Yale University. “I’m looking for a girl from Cornell, Phoebe Claterberry,” he said. “We meet every year at this conference. Has she checked in yet?”

  Joanie checked the computer. “No, I’m sorry, she hasn’t. But we’re holding her bags, so that means she’s here somewhere. She probably didn’t want to stand in line earlier and then got caught up in the initial conference activities.”

  “But that’s just it. No one’s seen her this evening,” Dennis said, looking worried.

  “Maybe she’s having dinner somewhere else.”

  “And maybe something happened to her,” he said.

  Another young woman came up. Her badge said she was Rhonda Wayne, from Cornell. “Phoebe’s fine,” Rhonda told Joanie frankly, then glared at Dennis. “Phoebe said she wanted time alone to think. She’ll see you tomorrow. Now stop worrying and come back to the conference,” Rhonda demanded, linking arms with Dennis.

  “I’ll tell Phoebe you’re looking for her if I see her,” Joanie promised Dennis.

  He nodded, looking only slightly less worried. “Thanks.”

  “Boy, there must be something in the air around here,” Liz remarked from behind Joanie. “I’ve never seen so many hopelessly lovesick people in my life. And that tally includes you and Steve,” she teased.

  Joanie flushed. “Will you stop making presumptions?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Liz said, rummaging through her purse. “Maybe I should concentrate on my own life.”

  Joanie raised an inquisitive brow. “Is there one?”

  “Like I could keep a secret on this island,” Liz said. Evidently finding what she wanted, she smiled and closed her purse without removing anything.

  Joanie noticed Liz had taken her hair out of its usual chignon to let it fall loosely to her shoulders. She was also wearing a new perfume and earrings Joanie had never seen before. “Well, I’m off,” Liz said.

  “Have fun,” Joanie murmured, watching the manager dash out the front doors.

  Before Joanie could wonder where Liz was going—she was too dressed up to simply be running errands, and besides, what kind of errands got done at ten o’clock at night?—a mother and and her teenage son stepped up to the desk. Joanie recognized them both as longtime residents of the island. “Hello, Mrs. Remmington, Chuck. What can I do for you?” she asked.

  “We want to report a lost puppy,” Chuck said. He pulled a photo of a golden retriever out of his shirt pocket. “We put Sigmund outside in the backyard this afternoon, and he dug a hole under the fence and got out.”

  “We noticed Sigmund was missing this evening around dinnertime and we’ve been looking for him ever since,” Mrs. Remington said. “We were hoping maybe he’d turned up here.”

  Joanie admitted that he had. “We saw Sigmund. We haven’t caught him yet.” Joanie wrote down the puppy’s name. “We’ll do our best to find him for you.”

  “Thank you.” The Remingtons looked vastly relieved as they walked away.

  Elizabeth Jermain and her second husband, retired judge Cameron Bradshaw, walked into the lobby. Just back from an evening out with friends, the elderly couple was dressed in elegant evening clothes. In a stunning designer dress, her silver hair expertly coiffed, Elizabeth looked particularly beautiful. The couple stopped by the front desk.

  After greeting Joanie graciously, Elizabeth asked, “Is my granddaughter working this evening?”

  “She just got off a little while ago,” Joanie said.

  “Did she go back to her cottage?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll call and see if she’s in.” Cameron walked over to use the house phone.

  Elizabeth turned back to Joanie. “How’s the little one you found this afternoon? Any word on her parents yet?”

  “None,” Joanie said. “Oh, and thank you for the rocking chair. You’re very thoughtful.”

  “Don’t mention it, dear.”

  Cameron returned a moment later, frowning. “No answer. Liz must be out with friends or something.”

  His wife appeared puzzled. “Must be. Although I would like to talk to her this evening, so Joanie, if you run into Liz…?”

  “I’ll tell her you’re looking for her,” Joanie promised.

  As soon as they left, Joanie settled down to check the records. As she’d feared, she found no Fiona listed anywhere.

  She sighed her disappointment and then wondered about Steve. She definitely still had feelings for him even after all this time.

  Surely by now she should have gotten over him, but she hadn’t. Exhaling heavily, she looked at the clock. Eleven p.m. Another hour to go before she got off work.

  STEVE SAT in Joanie’s living room at midnight absently flipping through the pages of the monthly report from his broker. But his mind wasn’t on the status of his investments. His mind was on Joanie and the toddler sleeping in the next room, who might or might not be his.

  A knock at the door interrupted Steve’s thoughts. To his surprise, Liz, not Joanie, was at the door. “I’m going to stay with the baby awhile,” she whispered.

  Steve noticed that Li
z’s hair was mussed, her clothing rumpled, her eyes unusually bright. If he didn’t know better, he’d think by her slightly guilty expression that Liz was having a clandestine love affair. “Where’s Joanie?” he asked.

  “She went into the hotel kitchen to fix something to eat. I guess she missed supper.” Liz gave Steve a closer look. “Did you have a chance to eat?”

  “No, not yet.” Steve stood. “I think I’ll head over there, too.”

  When he caught up with Joanie, she was in one corner of the kitchen making a sandwich. Columbia and three cooks were rolling out large squares of yeasty dough, spreading them with butter and topping them with an assortment of cinnamon, nuts and cooked fruit. “Rolls for breakfast?” he asked.

  “That’s right,” Columbia confirmed. “We make cinnamon rolls every day. They’ll rise overnight and be baked at dawn.”

  “In that case, I’ll be sure and stop by first thing,” Steve said with a smile.

  “You do that,” Columbia returned warmly, “because they’ll go fast.”

  Steve walked over to where Joanie was busy layering lettuce and tomatoes on top of sliced chicken, cheese and bread. Making use of the ingredients she’d brought out of the refrigerator, he began building a sandwich for himself, too. He noted Joanie didn’t look any happier to see him now than she had when he’d first arrived.

  “Liz sent you here, didn’t she?” Joanie guessed.

  Steve nodded, knowing that Joanie probably hadn’t forgiven him for stealing a kiss earlier. He was still glad he had, because that one kiss had told him that Joanie still had feelings for him—in spades.

  “I gather that wasn’t the plan,” Steve said. “You weren’t expecting me to join you?”

  Joanie’s shoulders stiffened. “No. I was going to grab something quickly, take it back to my quarters and then send you back here to fend for yourself, by yourself,” Joanie whispered, so just he could hear.

  Columbia sent the two of them an interested look. “Hurry up, you two,” she said loudly as she made shooing motions with her hands. “My staff and I have a lot of preparations to make for the conference breakfast tomorrow and little time to do it in.”