The Baby Came C.O.D.

by Marie Ferrarella

  "That's pathetic," she informed him. Then, with a tolerant sigh, Claire elbowed him out of the way. Evan was never so glad to move aside in his life. "Watch and learn," she instructed, taking her place again.

  Rachel began to kick, churning up the mess within, he guessed.

  "Libby?" Claire called out expectantly.

  The streak wearing pink overalls zipped back to her side, with a box of tissues in one hand and a slightly dripping washcloth in the other. "Here, Mama."

  Claire took them as solemnly as if she were receiving a knight's sword and shield. She set both items on the table.

  Evan forced himself to watch. He got as far as seeing Claire tear off the tabs on either side of the kicking chubby legs before he averted his eyes.

  "Yuck!" Libby pronounced.

  For once, Evan thought, the little girl was guilty of understatement.

  Chapter Three

  The first thing Evan did when he returned to his office was call Devin. Maybe it wasn't an entirely rational decision on his part, given that Devin was four hundred miles away. But Evan knew that if anyone could find out who the mother of this child was, it was Devin. His brother had a knack for locating missing people. Distance wouldn't be a problem.

  Why Devin wanted to spend his life in pursuit of people who, for all intents and purposes, had vanished was beyond Evan's comprehension. In his opinion, finding them didn't pay nearly enough to compensate for the effort involved. But for the first time in his life, Evan was actually glad his brother had decided to become a private investigator.

  As soon as he heard the receiver being picked up on the other end, Evan asked, "Are you busy?"

  There was a pause, and for a second, Evan was afraid that he'd gotten Devin's answering machine. He was in no mood to deal with recorded messages and was about to hang up when he heard, "Depends on who's asking. If it's the IRS, the answer is no. If it's the competition trying to see how I'm doing, then the answer is yes. Truth is located somewhere in between."

  Evan didn't need to see his face to know that Devin was grinning. They hadn't shared the same sense of humor since a year after puberty had hit.

  "It's me, Devin. Evan," he added impatiently when there was no response on the other end.

  The deep chuckle told Evan that his brother had known all along who was calling. "And a hello to you, too, brother," Devin replied. "Don't you believe in preliminary niceties anymore?"

  "You're the last one to give a lecture about that." Evan had always been the one who lived by the rules, who crossed every t and dotted every i. That was why this turn of events seemed so incredible, so unfair if it was true. He'd always taken precautions, for heaven's sake.

  Except, he realized suddenly, that one time.

  The fruity taste of the Mai-tais had hidden their potent punch, and he'd downed one after another until he'd found himself acting amorous and passionate—entirely out of character.

  No, he refused to believe that that one night, which was mostly a blur anyway, could have resulted in the fifteen-pound bundle he'd had delivered to his office.

  "Look," Evan said sharply, "I didn't call to argue about protocol."

  Accustomed to his brother's abrupt manner, Devin was unfazed by the annoyed tone. "Nice to know. Why did you call?"

  Evan was aware that he was gripping the receiver too tightly. He hated asking Devin for a favor, even one he was planning on paying for. "I need you to find someone for me."

  If Devin was surprised by the request, he hid it well. "All right, what's the person's name?"

  Evan thought of the note. There'd been no signature on it. "I don't know."

  That made it harder, but not impossible. Half of the people Devin had looked for were nameless to him when he began his search. "Description?"

  Irritation, fueled by frustration, began to mount. Evan knew he sounded like a fool. He could just visualize Devin smirking at him. "I don't have one. That is, I do, a few, but none of them might be the right one."

  If Devin was smirking, he gave no indication of it. Instead, he sounded concerned. "Evan, you okay? You sound... addled."

  It wasn't a word that Devin would have used to describe his brother under normal circumstances. Yet addled was exactly how Evan sounded—as if something had just happened to shake him up. This had to be big. Evan didn't rattle easily—at least, not enough to come to his brother for help.

  Evan bristled. He didn't care for the observation, however deserving it might be. "You'd be addled, too, if someone just left a baby in your office and said it was yours."

  Devin let out a low whistle. "Someone left you a baby?"

  Had his brother suddenly gone deaf? "I just said that," Evan snapped.

  Devin wasn't slow, but when it came to his work, he believed in being methodical. That meant getting all the facts down straight the first time around. "And it's not yours."

  "No." The denial was quick, decisive. And untrue. "That is, I don't think so." Evan's wavering deteriorated even further. "I don't know."

  Right now, it didn't strike Devin that his brother knew a hell of a whole lot, but this wasn't the time to point that little tidbit out.

  "And the person you want me to find is...?" His sentence trailed off as he waited for Evan to complete it for him.

  Was Devin playing games at his expense? "The baby's mother, naturally."

  Devin blocked out his brother's tone. Letting it get under his skin wasn't going to do either of them any good.

  "Do you have any idea who she might be, Evan? Anything at all for me to go on?"

  Yes, he had something for Devin to go on. Something he didn't want to admit to. His night of the endless Mai- tai. Evan ran a hand through his hair, bracing himself. If Devin was going to be of any use, he had to tell his brother everything.

  "My best guess is that it might be this entertainer I met on a cruise ship. A singer," he added. If he'd been sober, this would never have happened. He wouldn't have thought of flirting with a woman he didn't know, much less bedding her.

  Or had she flirted with him? Evan tried hard to remember, but it was all one heated blur with very little of it clear.

  "Why, Evan, you sly devil. And here I thought you were married to your work." His laughter obliterated anything else Devin might have said for more than a minute. "Boy, did I ever have you pegged wrong."

  Evan didn't care for being the source of Devin's amusement. If he could have, he would have slammed the phone down in his brother's ear. But now wasn't the time to take offense.

  He needed Devin. But he also needed his privacy, and a thought had suddenly occurred to him. "Look, not a word of this to the girls and Mother, do you hear?"

  "Raise your voice any louder, and everyone between Newport Beach and San Francisco will hear." Devin paused, as if considering something. "Send me a dollar."

  Evan thought he must have heard wrong. Devin was making even less sense than he normally did. And if this was a joke, it wasn't funny. "What?"

  "Send me a dollar," Devin repeated mildly. "Then you'll be a client and I won't be able to tell them anything, even if they try to wheedle the information out of me."

  Evan knew his sisters were more than capable of getting a stone to talk if they set their minds to it. Determination, in one form or another, was a strain that ran through them all.

  "You find out who this is, and I'll send you more than a dollar. I intend to pay you for your services, you know," he added, feeling somewhat uncomfortable about the whole arrangement. He didn't want Devin getting the wrong impression. "I'm not asking for charity."

  Nothing changed. Evan was as uptight as ever. Devin blew out a breath. "In case you haven't looked in the mirror lately, Evan, we're brothers. It's not called charity when it's between family."

  Still, if you paid for something, you got what you paid for. "I'd feel better paying you."

  "Well, I wouldn't." There was a note of annoyance in his voice. There were lessons Evan had never learned, he thought. He wondered if his broth
er ever would. But now wasn't the time for that, either. Devin got down to business. "How old is this baby?"

  "You know I'm not any good at things like that." But because Devin obviously wanted an answer, Evan thought for a minute, remembering the note. It had mentioned taking care of the baby for six months. "About six months old or so."

  Devin did a quick calculation. "I'm going to need a list of the names, numbers and addresses of the women you've been intimate with within the last two years or so."

  The laugh that met the request was dry and without humor. "Won't be much of a list." He waited for Devin to make some sort of snide comment. But Evan was disap-pointed.

  "Good, I won't have that much work to do. I'm really busy with another case, as it is."

  So Devin was working. No ego, no attempt at crowing or rubbing the matter in. Maybe he'd been too hard on Devin, after all. Evan thought a minute. "How about the cruise entertainer?"

  She was the first one Devin intended to question. "By all means, include her."

  It wasn't that easy. "I haven't got an address for her, or a number. Or a name, for that matter," he added, thinking out loud. "She called herself Siren."

  "Original," Devin commented dryly. "That's where the detecting part comes in, brother of mine." He tapped a pencil on his desk, thinking. "I'll need the name of the cruise line—and anything else you can think of. Fax everything to me when you're ready."

  Evan was ready now. "I don't have to fax it—I can give you everything you asked for right now."

  Jotting them down for his own sake as he went, Evan recited the women's names. There was a grand total of three. He added in everything that seemed relevant, includ-ing the fact that as far as he knew, two of them were in relationships now. They might even be married. He'd lost touch.

  "You're right," Devin agreed, looking the names over. "It's a short list. Sure you haven't forgotten anyone?"

  Evan knew that Devin hadn't meant it as a criticism, but it still smarted. "You're the one who's always had women pounding at your door, not me."

  His brother was referring to their formative years, Devin thought with a smile, when for some damn reason, Evan had hung back, refusing to avail himself of the ready com-panionship that was out there. But that was all in the past. These days, Devin had more-serious thoughts on his mind than the easy, pleasurable loving of willing women. More and more, one woman was beginning to take center stage.

  "Only because you weren't interested," Devin reminded him. He had the feeling his brother could do with someone in his corner. "Look, like I said, I'm busy with another case right now, but I can take a commuter flight and be up there in forty-five minutes if you need me."

  The offer was unexpected and appreciated, even if Evan didn't know exactly how to make that fact known without embarrassing both himself and his brother. Because he didn't know how else to do it, he let it slide without comment.

  "Just find whoever's responsible for this charade. Oh, there's a note." He suddenly realized he hadn't mentioned that. "Doesn't say very much, but maybe you can match the handwriting to a signature on the DMV applications."

  Devin smiled to himself. Evan was giving him a hell of a lot of credit. "You must think I can work magic."

  For the first time, Evan allowed himself a hint of a smile. Maybe it was going to be all right, after all. "No, just that you're underhanded."

  "You certainly know how to flatter a guy. Fax the note," he told Evan. "I'll do what I can. Call you later," he promised.

  "Thanks." Evan couldn't say more than that. It was enough.

  Evan broke off the connection and then quickly redialed his brother's number while feeding the wrinkled note into his fax machine.

  The note was just slipping out the other end when Alma knocked and opened the door. She appeared surprised to see Evan faxing. She usually took care of that sort of thing for him.

  "Yes?" Like a man with something to hide, he quickly slipped the note back into his pocket.

  Curious, she managed not to show it. Alma was the soul of business. "Mr. Donovan and the gentlemen from Japan are waiting for you in the conference room." She could see he'd forgotten.

  Damn, and he hadn't reviewed the notes yet. Maybe he should have handled that first, Evan upbraided himself. Now he was going to have to fly by the seat of his pants, and this wasn't the time for maiden runs.

  It wasn't a very comforting thought. He wasn't the spontaneous type. But it looked as if he was going to have to learn. Adam Donovan wasn't a man to be kept waiting, especially by a man he had taken under his wing.

  "Tell them I'll be right there," Evan promised without looking in her direction. He gathered up the folder with his notes and charts and hoped he hadn't forgotten anything.

  This little ordeal with the baby couldn't have happened at a more inopportune time.

  But then, Evan thought as he walked out of the office, he doubted that there could have ever been an opportune time for this to occur.

  He just hoped Devin could come through with something.

  The slow boil that had been going on all evening now reached critical mass and threatened to scald everything in its path. Claire was angry, really angry. There was absolutely no excuse for this. She had agreed to take care of Evan Quartermain's daughter—or alleged daughter, as he probably thought of her—not because of him, but because she felt sorry for Rachel. It was obvious that the man was more concerned about getting back to his office than he was about the little girl's welfare. Claire was surprised, now that she thought of it, that Evan hadn't just left the baby sitting in her infant seat in front of the television set until he returned.

  Which he hadn't done.

  But, she continued with her mental tirade, she'd agreed to watch Rachel for a few hours, not a few days.

  Claire stared out the window that faced the street, just as she had done on a fairly regular basis since she had put Libby to bed three hours ago. Libby had resisted bedtime with even more vigor than usual. Once in bed, she'd popped up four times like overdone toast, getting up on one pretext or another and returning to the living room where Claire had set up the Portacrib. Libby just couldn't get enough of the baby.

  Unlike Evan Quartermain.

  Though she could see perfectly well through the opaque white curtains, Claire pushed them back.

  No telltale beam of headlights approaching from a distance. No sound of a car.

  Nothing.

  The residential street where they both lived lay wrapped in soft slumber.

  Where the hell was he? And just who did he think he was, staying out until all hours while she tended to his baby?

  His baby, not hers. His.

  And there was no doubt in her mind that it was his. Rachel even smiled like Evan did. She looked as if there was a gas bubble building in the middle of her chest. The same could be said about his smile—it was small and offered under duress.

  The tiny wail finally penetrated her consciousness, interrupting her silent railings against the missing Quartermain. She crossed quickly to Rachel before her cries could carry to Libby's room.

  That was all she needed, Claire thought, to have Libby out here again, offering to help. Libby was already completely enamored with Rachel, treating her like a cross be-tween a little sister and a new, anatomically correct doll.

  "Hush, I'm here, I'm here," she murmured in a voice that sounded far more soothing and subdued than she actually felt.

  Claire lifted the small bundle into her arms, automatically feeling Rachel's bottom. Dry, thank goodness. She'd already gone through all the diapers she'd found. By four o'clock, she'd had to make a quick run to the store, both children in tow, to buy disposable ones, as well as more milk. For every ounce she took in, Rachel produced four.

  "You're about six months old, I'd guess. Haven't you learned how to sleep through the night yet?" she asked. Rachel's reply was to wail louder. Rocking her, Claire rubbed concentric circles along the baby's back. "I thought Libby was the only one who refused t
o learn."

  At almost five years old, Libby still insisted on waking up three or four times a night and calling for her each time. Claire was unable to turn a deaf ear no matter what her pediatrician advised; there was a rut worn in the rug between her room and her daughter's.

  "If it were me, I'd love to have someone fuss over me and then put me to bed. I'd go out just like that." She snapped her fingers, catching Rachel's attention. The sobs softened, then disappeared. "Okay, one more song and then it's over between us, you hear?" she warned Rachel.

  Rachel responded by making a noise and then sucking on Claire's shoulder. Claire laughed softly, extracting the material from the baby's mouth.

  "You're just trying to soften me up, that's all. Well, don't think I'm a pushover just because I pick you up every time you cry. I'm not. I have no intentions of letting you get to me. I've got a daughter of my own, and that's quite enough, thank you very much. This is just a one-night stand between us. Understood?"

  A one-night stand was most likely exactly what had taken place between Rachel's mother and the man who was supposed to have been here hours ago, Claire thought darkly.

  He probably thought he could just enjoy himself without any consequences, then balked when consequences insisted on occurring.

  The miserable, self-centered...

  No, that wasn't fair of her, Claire chided silently. It wasn't fair to condemn Evan Quartermain just because Jack had walked out on her as soon as she had told him she was pregnant. Not everyone was like Jack.

  Her mouth quirked into a hollow smile as she paced about the perimeter of the room.

  Funny how quickly undying love could die in the face; of a tiny stick turning blue.

  Rachel seemed to be burrowing against her shoulder. If she didn't know any better, Claire would have said the little j girl was almost cuddling. Claire fought hard not to give in to the warm feeling threatening to engulf her. She had no intentions of getting attached to this baby. She'd already learned the dangers of forming attachments to things that were only passing through her life. Rachel would be in and out in a blink of an eye. Once Evan finally showed up.