"A tooth? Getting a tooth can make her sick?"
"Some babies, yes. Makes them feverish and fretful," Desi explained, beginning to feel much better now that she knew what was wrong with her baby. "Besides, she has a little case of the sniffles, too. That's bound to make her feel all the worse." She leaned down and tenderly kissed the baby's head. "Isn't that right, angel? You feel rotten, don't you?" Now that she knew Stephanie wasn't in any grave danger she could become her usual relaxed self. "Have you given her anything?"
"A dose of that liquid baby aspirin you have in the bathroom. Your doctor said it might help the fever."
Desi nodded. "When was that?"
"About, oh—" Teddie looked at his watch "—four hours ago. I tried to feed her then, too. I thought it would be better if she had something on her stomach but she didn't eat much. Only about half a jar of that strained green glop, so I put the leftovers in the fridge."
"Thanks, Teddie." Desi looked up at him. "I really appreciate all the trouble you've been put to. I know it couldn't have been much fun for you."
"No trouble." He waved aside her thanks and reached down to touch one finger to Stephanie's flushed little cheek. "Well, not much, anyway, 'cause I'd do anything for my princess. I'm just glad that she's feeling better."
"Well, your princess appreciates it," she insisted. "And her mother appreciates it, too. All I can say is that I'll try to see that you never have to go through this again." She cuddled Stephanie closer to her, "From now on we travel together, or we don't travel," she said firmly. She stood up, being careful to keep her knuckle in Stephanie's mouth. "I'm going to give her another dose of aspirin and try some of that Ambesol stuff on her gums. It's supposed to numb them a little. Then maybe she'll be able to get some sleep." She smiled at Teddie. "You should try to take a nap, too. You look like you could use about eight hours."
"Need anything before I go downstairs?"
"What? Oh, no, nothing. Thanks again, Teddie," she called after him as he left her apartment.
"Come on, angel. Let's go take care of that nasty old tooth."
She got another dose of aspirin down Stephanie, and the numbing medication seemed to make her less fretful and cranky. Enough so, at least, so that Desi was able to get her to eat the rest of "that strained green glop," as Teddie called it, along with a full jar of strained pears. Stephanie loved strained pears.
"Now, how 'bout a bottle, angel, and then a nice long nap? Hmm?"
But Stephanie didn't want to sleep. She didn't even want to be put down. Every time Desi tried she became fretful again, crying weakly, obviously tired but unwilling, or unable, to drop off to sleep.
"All right, darling, all right." Desi finally quit fighting it and sat down in the cane rocker. Crooning soft off-key lullabies, she slowly rocked back and forth until Stephanie quieted again and finally dropped off into an uneasy sleep. Desi stopped rocking and sat quietly for a few minutes, one slim finger tenderly stroking the baby curves of Stephanie's soft flushed cheek. The baby didn't stir.
"Come on then, angel." She rose carefully from the rocker. "Let's get you into your crib."
She had just closed the nursery door and was on her way to her own room, worn-out and half-asleep herself, when the doorbell began to chime insistently, as if someone was leaning on it. She hurried from the hall to answer it before whoever it was could rouse Stephanie from her fretful sleep.
"Jake."
She stood there, staring at him around the edge of the half-opened door. What was he doing here in San Francisco when he was supposed to be filming? And then, a terrible, heart-stopping thought occurred to her. Someone must have told him about Stephanie! That was the only reason she could think of for his leaving Sonoma in the middle of filming. Certainly, he hadn't followed her just to yell about her own abrupt departure from location.
Oh, God, what was she going to do now? What could she say to him? How could she make him understand?
"Jake," she said again as he stood there looking down at her.
"Can I come in?" His voice was low, the words softly spoken, and the look on his face was almost pleading.
But Desi was too agitated to see that. She stepped back quickly, holding open the door. "I'm sorry. Yes, come in." She gestured toward the rose-satin sofa. "Sit down."
He sank down onto the sofa, his head falling back to rest against the low back, one hand going up to absently massage the bridge of his nose.
He looked tired, she thought. Tired and a little stunned.
Well, wouldn't you, she asked herself, if you had just found out that you had a nearly five-month-old daughter?
"Can I get you a drink?" she offered hesitantly, wondering why he hadn't said anything yet. Why he hadn't asked about Stephanie. "Or a cup of coffee?"
Would you like a drink? The words echoed eerily in her head. He had said those words to her once, in a hotel room, to ease her obvious uncertainty and shyness. Well, she wasn't shy with him now but she was still uncertain. Now, more than ever.
I should have told him, she thought. As soon as she had known she was pregnant she should have contacted him, somehow, and told him.
"Coffee, please." He lowered his massaging hand to look at her. "I want to keep a clear head."
A clear head, yes. They would both need clear heads.
"Wait a minute." He started to rise from the sofa. "I'll help you."
"No, thank you. Really. It's okay. My kitchen is so small and...." She realized she was babbling and turned, fleeing to the kitchen, praying that he wouldn't follow her.
He didn't and Desi was allowed a precious ten minutes to pull herself together. She busied her hands making sandwiches while the coffee was brewing. She had missed lunch today and, probably, so had Jake. The dinner hour had come and gone unnoticed, too, and she was hungry. She was sure Jake must be, too. Besides, she reasoned, a small flash of humor coming to her aid, a full stomach was said to make a man more reasonable.
Taking a deep breath, she shouldered open the door and came out into the living room with the laden tray. Jake jumped to his feet immediately, taking it from her to place it on the low coffee table in front of the sofa and then, before she could sit down, he took her hands in his.
"I know that now isn't the time," he said, very gently, pulling her down to sit on the sofa beside him. "I know you're worried sick about your mother. But I had to come. I had to be here with you." He dropped one of her hands and reached up to brush a strand of hair back from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. "You're surprised, I know," he said in answer to the incredulous look on her face. A wry smile curved his lips. "But not half as surprised as I am, believe me. When you left Dorothea's house in such a rush, I suddenly realized just how very much you mean to me. Realized why the sex was so great between us. Why I couldn't forget you." His hand cupped her cheek and his dark eyes were soft as he stared intently into her wide blue ones. "It's because I love you."
Desi still said nothing, just gazed up at him with that disbelieving, incredulous look on her face. Her mother? What did he mean about her mother?
"Desiree, are you listening to me?" His other hand came up to cradle her face. "I've just said that I love you."
"Yes, I'm listening," she said, blinking slowly as his words finally penetrated her fogged brain. He said he loved her!
"Oh, Jake," was all she could utter. Tears threatened, turning her eyes to pools of liquid amethyst, as she smiled tremulously up at him. "Oh, Jake."
"Well, it's nothing to cry about, is it?" he asked, tenderly kissing the lid of each eye, touching his lips softly to each pink cheek. "Is it, Desiree?" The words were a mere whisper.
Oh, if he only knew how much there was to cry about. "No, no it isn't but... Oh, Jake." Her eyes closed as his hands slid around to the back of her head, holding her willing captive under the force of his gentle soul-searing kiss.
Their mouths clung for endless seconds, lips and tongues and teeth tenderly probing and tasting and nibbling at the sweetness that e
ach so freely offered the other. Desi twined her arms around the strong column of his neck, her body boneless as a rag doll as she melted against him in total surrender. She felt his hands slide down her back to encircle her pliant body. For a second they tightened almost painfully, convulsively, crushing her to him, and she gloried in the force of his desire for her.
"Desiree." The word was a ragged sigh against her mouth as he lifted his lips from hers. "Sweet Desiree." His lips touched her cheek again. "I don't know why I kept you at arm's length for so long. Why I couldn't admit how I felt." His mouth traveled to the delicate curve of her ear.
"You had a lot on your mind," she ventured softly. "The movie. No emotion, you said, and I... I know how important it is to you."
"Yes, the movie is definitely important." She felt him smile against her cheek. "But not more important than you, never again more important than you." He leaned back a little to look into her face. "When you left so suddenly I was angry—furious—that you went without saying anything to me. Because of the movie I told myself, at first."
"At first?"
"And then Dorothea told me how upset you were. That your mother had taken a turn for the worse and you had to get home. I realized then how much you meant to me. All I could think of was being with you, comforting you. I was nearly frantic, trying to find you." His lips gently caressed her temples, and he drew a deep shuddering breath against her cheek. "There was no answer at your parents' house when I called. I thought you would have gone directly there. And the hospitals couldn't tell me anything either. But then I remembered Dorothea had mentioned how close you were to your landlord, so I came here." He pressed his cheek against hers again, hiding his face in the cloud of her copper hair as if his emotion embarrassed him. "You'll never know how relieved I was to see your car in the driveway."
"But, Jake, it isn't my mother that's sick. Dorothea didn't actually tell you it was my mother, did she? No. No, never mind. It's not important." She squirmed in his arms, trying to get her hands up to his face. She had to tell him. "Jake, look at me."
His beautiful brown eyes looked questioningly, lovingly into hers, his arms cradled her tenderly. How would he look at her, hold her, when she told him?
"Well, maybe Dorothea didn't actually say it was your mother," he began, "I may have misunderstood her but—"
Desi shook her head, silencing him. "My mother's not sick, Jake. It's... oh, I don't know how to say this. How to tell you. I should have told you before, Jake," she said earnestly, bravely holding his gaze, even though tears glistened on her lashes now. "I should have told you months ago. But I couldn't. I didn't know how. It's—" she stumbled over the words "—it's my daughter that's sick, Jake. Not my mother."
"Your daughter?" He didn't seem to quite take it in. "You have a daughter?"
"Yes, Jake." She paused, taking a deep breath. The only way to say it was to say it. "She's your daughter, too."
He stilled, his body gone tense, his face uncomprehending, incredulous blank.
"My daughter?" His eyes, even his very skin under her hands, began to cool. "What do you mean, my daughter?"
Desi's hands dropped from his face to clench in her lap. "Just what I said, Jake. Your daughter."
He stood up. "Just what are you saying, Desiree?"
She stared down at her hands. "I'm saying that I got pregnant last November. I'm saying that I had a baby." She looked up at him. "Your baby." Her eyes dropped again, unable to face the look in his. He looked as if he had been hit on the head with a sledgehammer and still hadn't come to yet. "A little girl," she said softly.
"You said you were on the pill."
"I was. I am. But no birth control is 100% effective." She touched his sleeve lightly, in silent appeal. "She's a beautiful little girl. Her name is Stephanie."
He looked down at her arm on his arm. "Am I supposed to be pleased?" he asked then, in a hard voice.
She dropped her hand. "No, I didn't expect you to be pleased," she said, her head still bowed. "I don't know what I expected. No, that's not true." She sighed. "I expected anger, I guess. Shock, maybe. I—"
He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her roughly to her feet. "Anger, you guess! Shock, maybe!" He looked as if he would like to shake her and then thought better of it, letting her go as he turned to pace the room. "Why in hell did you wait until now to tell me? Why?" He passed a hand through his thick hair and turned to face her from across the room. She shrank back from the look that had come into his eyes. The eyes that, only minutes ago, had been filled with such love and tenderness.
"Did you think it was safe to tell me now that you had me hooked? Now that I'd admitted how I feel about you?"
"No!" Her denial was shocked and vehement and totally unfeigned. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own pain and bewilderment, he might have seen that. "No, Jake, I—"
"Did you think I'd just say 'Gee, isn't that nice.' A daughter!" His voice rose harshly on the last word, echoing through the room.
"Please, Jake." Desi's hand went out to him warningly. "She's asleep."
But the warning came too late. They both heard the thin wail that came from the other room. Desi stilled for a minute, holding her breath. Maybe she'd fall back to sleep. But no, the whimper became a full-fledged cry for immediate attention.
"I have to go to her. She's teething." Desi hurried past Jake into her daughter's room.
"There, there, darling," she soothed, lifting the crying baby from her crib. "Hush, darling, mommie's here." She held the baby against her shoulder, gently rubbing her back in an effort to quiet her tears, all the while desperately fighting tears of her own. When that didn't work she turned Stephanie, cradling the baby in the crook of one arm, and applied gentle pressure to her irritated gums. Almost immediately the crying stopped as Stephanie began to suck contentedly on her mother's finger.
"Poor little angel," she crooned softly. "You need some more medicine on those sore gums, don't you?" Desi turned from the crib with the baby in her arms to see Jake standing in the doorway, silently watching her.
She almost quailed before the look on his face, but then her shoulders stiffened and she crossed the room, brushing past him on her way to the bathroom for Stephanie's medication. He followed, watching as she sat down on the edge of the bathtub to apply the numbing cream to the baby's gums.
"She looks like you," he said after a minute.
"Yes, she does." Desi's voice was as controlled as his but she didn't look up. "She has your eyes, though."
"Does she?" He folded his arms across his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. Almost, Desi thought, as if he was afraid he might reach out to touch one of them if he didn't. "I don't see the resemblance myself."
"I didn't think you would," she murmured. She gave Stephanie another dose of liquid baby aspirin and stood up. Again, Jake followed her as she returned to the baby's room to put Stephanie back into her crib.
"What did you say her name was?" he asked from behind her as she smoothed a light quilt over the drowsy baby.
Desi's hand touched her daughter's head briefly, brushing back a few curling tufts of red hair that were still damp with fever-induced perspiration. The baby's face was lightly flushed from crying, and she looked incredibly sweet and angelic.
"Stephanie," Desi said softly, her eyes on her daughter.
"Stephanie what?"
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Weston," she said firmly.
"And who did you put down as the father?"
He meant the birth certificate, she realized. That was still a very sore point with her. She had hated to do what she did, but at the time it had seemed like the best thing to do. Putting the name Jake Lancing down as her baby's father would have resulted in unbearable publicity. Birth certificates were a matter of public record, if anyone cared to investigate. It would have made the front page of every scandal sheet in the country.
"Well—what name?"
"Unknown," she said softly, still looking down at her
daughter.
"What?" He made her repeat it.
"Unknown." She looked up at him defiantly. "I wrote, 'Father unknown.' What else would you expect? You know what would have happened if I'd put your name on it."
There was a strange, cold smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "Well, that solves one problem, at least."
"What's that?" she asked suspiciously, not trusting that smile.
"It will save me the trouble of going to court to have it changed."
He didn't believe her. He didn't believe Stephanie was his daughter.! So, okay, what else had she expected? She drew herself up proudly.
"It will save you any trouble at all," she said. "It may have escaped your notice, but I haven't asked you for anything." She turned away quickly, heading for the nursery door, and so missed the momentary expression of confusion, or doubt, that crossed his face.
I will not cry, she told herself, fighting tears. I will not cry or explain or plead. She turned back to face him when they reached the living room. Her eyes were dry. "I think you'd better go, Jake."
He didn't make a move toward the door. "Not until I know what you're up to."
"I'm not up to anything. I told you that. If I was up to something, wouldn't I have made my move long before now? Stephanie is almost five months old. Five months, Jake. The time for me to bring the paternity suit you're so obviously afraid of was when she was born, not now."
"When was she born—exactly?"
"July 10," she answered him absently, anxious to get back to what she considered a more important question. "I don't intend to bring suit, Jake, I..." Her voice trailed off.
She could almost see him doing the calculations in his head. A look of something very like disappointment crossed his face for the merest instant, but it was replaced almost immediately by anger—anger and a frighteningly cold sort of contempt.
One Night With You (The Heart of the City Series, Book 1) Page 17