Baby, Oh Baby!

by Robin Wells

  She reached for another pack of crackers. “But just because you're relatively nice doesn't mean I'm ready to sign any papers." She pulled open the cellophane and handed the crackers to Madeline. "I still don't know much about you."

  "So what do you want to know?"

  "Everything."

  "That's a pretty broad topic."

  She twisted the cracker wrapper as if she were wringing it out. "Well, for starters, tell me about your family. Does Madeline have any extended family? Any aunts or uncles or cousins?"

  Jake leaned back against the vinyl booth. "I'm an only child. As for family, it's pretty much just me." "Tell me about your parents."

  "Well, they were both neurologists."

  Annie's eyebrows rose high. "Both of them?"

  Jake nodded. "They lived and breathed neurology. They specialized in research. They were obsessed with unlocking the secrets of the human brain."

  "Wow. So Madeline's grandparents were a pair of geniuses."

  Jake gave a wry grin. "Pretty much. Sometimes i think the only reason they had me was to combine 'their genes and produce the ultimate neurologist."

  "What made you decide not to become one?"

  "I was a disaster at science. I nearly blew up the high school chemistry lab, and the poor frog I dissected in biology looked as if 'he'd been on a bad date with Jack the Ripper."

  Annie smiled.

  "They tried not to show it, but I know my folks were disappointed," Jake found himself saying.

  "Oh, surely not."

  "Trust me. They were." Annie's eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like sympathy, making him anxious to change the topic. "What was your family like?" he asked.

  Annie looked down and sighed. "Well, we didn't have what you'd call a happy home life. My parents fought like cats and dogs. Like a typical kid, I thought it was all my fault. They stayed together for my sake, but they were miserable."

  "After coming from a home like that, you''d think you'd be gun-shy about marriage."

  Annie gave a dry smile. "I wish I had been. I got married right out of college, when I was still in the trying-to-please-my-parents phase, thinking it was my job to make them happy. Nate was a topic they both agreed on. He was smart, well-educated, from a good family...." She looked down at the cracker wrapper.

  "Unfortunately, he was still in love with someone else, and he married me on the rebound. As he got over the girl that got away, he got over me, too."

  Jake drew his brow together. "That must have been rough."

  She gave a single nod. "We didn't quite make it to our first anniversary. He said our marriage was a mistake, that he didn't love me as I deserved to be loved." Annie gave a small smile. "He was right, of course, but that didn't make it hurt any less."

  "You loved him." For some reason, he found the thought distressing.

  Annie lifted her shoulders. "I thought I did." She untwisted the cracker wrapper, then started twisting it the other direction. "As time passed, though, I realized I loved the idea of putting down the roots I never had as a child, of having a quiet, peaceful relationship. Nate seemed like a good bet because he was nonconfrontational. We never argued. Of course, we never really talked, either—not in a deep, meaningful, heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul kind of way. I was always worried about not rocking the boat." She gave a wry smile. "I'm talking more freely to you right now than I ever did to him."

  Before he could quite figure out whether that fact pleased or alarmed him, she turned the conversation around. "What about you? What was your marriage like?"

  Jake shifted uneasily on the vinyl booth. "Great." Annie rested her chin in her hands and sighed wistfully. "You were one of the lucky ones, huh?" "That's not how it feels now."

  She regarded him somberly. "No, I suppose not. So, are you dating anyone now?"

  The question jarred him. "No."

  "Why not?”

  "Well, there's no point. There will never be another Rachel."

  "No, but there could be someone else."

  "Anyone else would just be second-rate."

  Annie gazed at him for a long moment. "So you don't intend to ever have another relationship?"

  He shook his head.

  "But what about.. . you know..

  "What about what?"

  Annie shot a surreptious look at the baby, who was munching a cracker, and leaned forward. "What about sex?" she whispered.

  Jake stared at her. "What about it?"

  "Well ... are you going to live the rest of your life without it?"

  What a depressing thought! "I, uh—I don't think about it in those terms." Or, he hadn't until now. Crimony—why had she had to put it that way? He'd come here so happy. Now he was seriously bummed. "I take it a day at a time."

  "So what do you do when you're. . . you know ... ?"

  Good Lord, but she was nosy. He glared, irritated at her for raising the spectre of lifelong celibacy, ready to put her in her place. "When I'm horny?"

  She should have blushed, but she didn't. "Yes."

  "I take care of myself," he said belligerently. "What about you?"

  "I. . ." She at least had the grace to look down at the plastic cracker wrapper in her fingers. "Well, I do the same."

  Unbidden images flashed through his mind—hot, steamy images of Annie, naked in her bed, her hands running over her own body. Jake's pulse roared in his ears, and his mouth went dry. "Well, then, I guess we're in the same boat."

  "For the time being, I suppose." She twirled the cracker wrapper around her pinkie. "My knight hasn't ridden up on a white charger yet, but I still have hope." She gave the wrapper a final twist, then looked up, her eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like pity. "It must be awfully sad not to have any hope."

  How in blue blazes had they gotten on this topic? Jake took a long gulp of water, using the glass as a shield from eyes that seemed to see too much, then set it down on the Formica tabletop harder than he'd intended. He was relieved when the waitress arrived and set two heaping plates of spaghetti in front of them, along with an extra plate for Madeline.

  He watched Annie cut a meatball into baby-sized bites. It was time to steer the conversation to the purpose of his visit. "Now that we know I'm definitely Made-line's father, I'd like to draw up a custody agreement."

  Annie froze, her knife in the air. "We don't need anything in writing. You can just come see her whenever you want."

  "That's what you say now, but situations change." He leaned forward. "I want to be a real father to her. I don't just want my name on her birth certificate—although I definitely do want that."

  "What else do you want?"

  "Joint custody."

  She looked at him, her eyes round and scared, her face white. "What does that mean? That she'd live with you half the time?"

  "Well, not exactly half. The custodial parent—that would be you—has the child the majority of the time. All throughout the school year, for example."

  "But you'd have her for weekends and summers and holidays?"

  "Well, we'd have to work all that out."

  Annie stared at him. "You want me to spend several months of every year without my child?"

  Jake moved his plate to the side and folded his hands on the table. "Annie, be reasonable. I'm her parent, too. She deserves to grow up knowing both of us. And, of course, I intend to provide child support."

  "I don't need your money."

  "From the stack of bills sitting in your kitchen, I'd say otherwise."

  Her eyebrows rose. "You looked through my bills?"

  He shrugged. "They were right by the phone. Sorry."

  She looked like she was about to take the child and bolt. He decided to back off. "Look, we don't have to do this right now," he said.

  "What would you do with her while you're at the office? Leave her with a nanny? Put her in daycare? Why would you want a stranger taking care of your child, when she could be with her own mother?"

  Jake raised his
hands in a placating gesture. "We wouldn't have to split physical custody right away. She needs you. I can see that. I just want to be as much a part of her life as possible."

  "Well, you're welcome to come see her whenever you want."

  "I appreciate that. And that's fine for right now." "So why don't we just leave it that way?"

  "Because things change. You might remarry or move away...."

  "I'm not moving anywhere."

  "You say that now, but who knows what may happen in the future? You just said you'd like to meet Mr. Right." He reached out and covered her hand with his. It was a calculated gesture, one he used often with female clients to persuade them to see things his way, but this time, it backfired. The feel of her warm, soft hand was lessening his resolve. "Look—this is for the protection of both of us. Why don't I draft up a preliminary agreement, just something to use as a starting point, then you can show it to your attorney and think about it. I won't push you to sign anything you're not comfortable with." He tightened his fingers around hers. "Okay?"

  She looked down at their intertwined hands, then slowly pulled back her hand. Her eyes took his measure for a long moment, then she breathed out a sigh. "If you draw something up, I'll look at it. I can't promise I'll sign it, but I'll look at it."

  "Good." He wasn't about to tell her he had the papers already drafted and sitting in a folder in the backseat of his car. Some issues needed to be broached bit by bit, baby step by baby step.

  Thwak! Something warm and wet suddenly hit Jake smack in the middle of his forehead. He reflexively raised his hand and touched his face. When he pulled it back, he was alarmed to see it covered with spaghetti sauce.

  Madeline giggled gleefully, and Annie gave a snort of laughter.

  "What just happened?" Jake asked.

  "Madeline stole a meatball off your plate and lobbed it at you."

  Jake looked down at his lap. Sure enough, a meatball sat damply on his navy slacks, wedged suggestively between his thighs. He gingerly picked it up and plopped it on the tabletop. "Good one, Madeline."

  Annie covered her mouth and sniggered.

  Jake picked up his napkin and wiped the sauce off his face. Annie scooted the metal dispenser of paper napkins toward him. He pulled out a handful and attacked his white shirt. "What's the deal with this kid and my clothes? Every time I take her out in public, she covers me with dirt, food, or bodily fluids."

  "Maybe she's trying to decorate you."

  "Like a Christmas tree?"

  "Maybe." Annie's smile was blinding. "Or maybe she's just trying to get you to loosen up."

  "I don't need loosening up." He stopped wiping his shirt, looked up, and quirked an eyebrow. "Do I?" "Maybe a little."

  It was ridiculous that such a benign remark should prick his pride, but it did. "In what way?"

  Annie's lips curved. "Well, you have to admit you're a little too structured."

  "Structure isn't a bad thing to have in your life." In fact, Jake thought darkly, you ought to try it some time.

  "Neither is the ability to trust other people and go with the flow." Her full, sexy lips curved in a teasing smile. "I bet if I frisked you right now, I'd find an itinerary outlining how you plan to spend every minute of your day, complete with goals and objectives."

  The idea of being frisked by Annie held a disturbing appeal. "Planning your day is the best way to. prioritize your time."

  The curve of her lips made him realize how completely stuffy he sounded. With a noncommittal grunt, he resumed wiping his clothes.

  "Babies don't fit into a Day-Timer," Annie said. "They're messy and time-consuming and prone to accidents. Especially our baby."

  Our baby. There was no reason a simple possessive pronoun should make his heart beat like a judge's gavel in a disorderly courtroom, but it did.

  Annie, too, seemed hit by the significance of her unwitting remark. Her eyes widened and met his across the table, and the moment came and went when one of them should have looked away.

  Our child. It was a weighty concept to grasp. He and Annie were inextricably bound together by the cherubic imp at the end of the table who was now merrily finger painting on her plate with tomato sauce. Before he'd ever met this woman, his seed had impregnated her womb, his heritage had fused with hers, and their futures were irrevocably intertwined.

  But they were complete opposites. In the normal course of events, their paths probably never would have crossed, and if they had, they never would have given each other more than a cursory glance. He would have considered her much too free-spirited and Bohemian, and she would have thought him too rigid and stuffy. The only reason they were sitting here together now was because they'd made a child.

  That had to be the only reason he was feeling such a strong, hot pull of attraction toward her. He was pretty sure it wasn't just a one-sided thing, either. He could feel heat sizzling between them, bouncing back and forth, firing off so many sparks it was a wonder the restaurant wasn't filled with smoke.

  They'd made a baby, but they hadn't made love. They'd skipped an important step in the natural order of things. That must be why they were so physically aware of each, so sexually curious. After all, people who made babies together were lovers. He didn't even know what Annie looked like naked.

  But, boy, I'd sure like to. The thought made him jerk his eyes away from her in alarm.

  Annie quickly averted her gaze, too. Picking up a napkin, she busily wiped Madeline's chin, then pushed Jake's plate far out of the baby's reach. "You'd better watch out, or she's likely to resume pitching practice."

  Jake gave a weak grin, thinking that the baby was the least of his worries. Madeline might throw meatballs, but Annie threw him for a loop.

  "The nurse's car is still gone," Jake said as he pulled into the drive of Annie's house. "I'll stay with you until

  she gets back."

  For some reason, the thought of being alone with Jake made Annie's stomach quake. "You don't need to do that."

  "Maybe not, but I'm going to anyway." He softened

  the words with a smile as he braked the car and killed i the engine. "Stay put and I'll get the door for you."

  He circled the automobile and helped her out, then opened the back door and gazed down at the sleeping child. "Looks like the meatball hurler is down for the count."

  Annie smiled as . Jake unfastened the strap of the baby's carseat. He carefully Iifted the child out, nestling her against his shoulder, so that her head rested against his. A lump formed in Annie's throat. Their dark hair was a perfect match.

  Annie followed as Jake carried the child into the nursery and gently placed her in her crib, then she covered the sleeping baby with a blanket. Her shoulder brushed Jake's, and a current of attraction rolled through her, along with a strong feeling of d~j~ vu.

  She suddenly knew why. This was the scene she'd imagined so many times in her fantasies. Over and over, she'd pictured herself here at her grandparents' ranch, standing beside a crib, smiling down at a baby, a handsome man by her side. She'd never envisioned the man's face in her fantasies, but if she had, it would have been Jake's.

  That thought made her freeze. She needed to stop letting her imagination run away with her. Jake was emotionally unavailable. Hadn't he just told her he had no interest in a relationship, that no one could ever measure up to his late wife?

  She gave the blanket a final tuck, then quietly left the baby's room, wanting to leave the disturbing thoughts behind. Jake followed her to the kitchen.

  "Want some coffee?" she asked.

  "Sure. Here, I'll do it for you." He headed for the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of freshly ground coffee. It was disconcerting, how this man was invading

  her space. He'd fathered her baby, he'd stayed in her

  house, and he knew his way around her kitchen, yet she knew very little about him.

  Well, that was something she could change. She glanced over at him as she filled the coffee maker's pot with tap water. "What made
you decide to go into law?"

  Jake pulled a measuring cup out of a drawer and carefully poured in some coffee grounds. "I guess I figured that if I couldn't save the world by fighting neurological illness, I'd do it by fighting injustice." He poured a half-cup of grounds into the coffeemaker. His lip curled in an ironic expression that was more grimace than grin. "That was back when I was young and idealistic and believed justice actually existed."

  "You don't now?"

  Jake gave a derisive snort.

  "Not too jaded, are you?"

  He shrugged. "Let's just say I've seen the scales tipped by the weight of a wallet a few times too many. Corporate law isn't exactly a bastion of fairness."

  "You could always do something else." She switched on the coffeemaker.

  "Like what?"

  "You tell me. What did you want to be when you were a boy?"

  Jake leaned against the kitchen counter. "Batman or Superman. But they didn't offer superhero training as a major in college."

  Smiling, she rested a hip against the walnut cabinet beside him. "You wanted to be one of the good guys."

  Jake met Annie's gaze. He'd never thought of it that way. This woman had an uncanny way of seeing things that he'd never realized about himself. "Yeah. I guess so.,'

  "Have you ever thought about being a prosecutor?" "I've done more than think about it. I was assistant D.A. in Tulsa for two years."

  "How was it?"

  Jake thoughtfully rubbed his jaw. "Frustrating as hell. It was like fighting a war that'll never be won. But it was somehow rewarding, too. I looked forward to going to work every day." He looked away, vaguely embarrassed to have said so much.

  She nodded slowly. "It was a war worth fighting." "Exactly." There it was again—that uncanny ability of hers to know what he was feeling.

  "So why did you switch to corporate law?"

  Jake lifted his shoulders. "My father-in-law's partner retired. Tom had been after me for some time to join his firm, and my wife ..." He trailed off. Rachel had resented the long hours he put in as D.A., for little pay. She'd been jealous of his job, as if it had been a mistress. And in a way, Jake mused, he supposed it had been. Jake blew out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair. "It was the logical thing to do."