by Susan Crose
Twisting, half expecting to find Jake with his lousy sense of timing, she saw a young black-haired girl standing nervously on one foot, then the other.
"Melinda?" Shawna asked, her throat dry. "Are you looking for me?"
"No," Melinda James said quietly, her large, brown eyes lifting until they clashed with Parker's. "I came to see him, on your advice."
"My advice—what—?" But a dark doubt steadily grew in her heart and she gripped Parker's shoulders more tightly, as if by clinging to him, she could stop what was to come. "No—there must be some mistake," she heard herself saying, her voice distant, as if in a dream.
"You told me to talk to him and that's . . . that's why I'm here," Melinda said, her eyes round with fear, large tears collecting on her lashes. "You see, Parker Harrison is the father of my child."
Chapter 7
"He's what?" Shawna whispered, disbelieving.
"It's true."
"Wait a minute—" Parker stared at the girl, not one flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Who are you?"
Shawna wanted to tell him not to believe a word of Melinda's story, but she didn't. Instead she forced herself to watch his reaction as Melinda, hesitantly at first, then with more conviction, claimed she and Parker had been seeing each other for several months, long before he'd started dating Shawna, and that she'd become pregnant with his child.
Parker blanched, his mouth drawing into a tight line.
"This is absurd," Shawna finally said, praying that Parker would back her up.
"How old are you?" he asked, eyes studying the dark-haired girl.
"Eighteen."
"Eighteen?" he repeated, stunned. His eyes narrowed and he forced himself to stand. "And you're saying that you and I—"
"—were lovers," Melinda clarified.
Shawna couldn't stand it a minute more. "This is all a lie. Parker, this girl came into my office, asked all sort of questions about you and your amnesia, and then had me examine her."
"And?"
"And she is pregnant. That much is true. But. . . but . . . she's lying . . . you couldn't have been with her. I would have known." But even though her words rang with faith, she couldn't help remembering all the times Parker had taunted her by pretending to have a mistress. J suppose I'll have to give up my mistress, he'd said at the fair, teasing her, but wounding her just the same. Her old doubts twisted her heart. Was it possible that he'd actually been seeing someone and that the person he'd been with had been this girl?
"You don't remember me?" Melinda asked.
Parker closed his eyes, flinching a bit.
'II saw you the night of the accident," she prodded. "You . . . you were with Brad and he was drunk."
Parker's eyes flew open and pain, deep and tragic, showed in their vibrant blue depths.
"You stopped by my apartment and Brad became violent, so you hauled him back to the car."
"She's making this up," Shawna said. "She must have read about it in the papers or heard it on the news." But her voice faltered as she saw Parker wrestling with a memory.
"I've met her before," he said slowly. "I was at her apartment."
"No!" Shawna cried. She wouldn't believe a word of Melinda's lies—she couldn't! Parker would never betray her! She'd almost lost Parker once and she wasn't about to lose him again, not to this girl, not to anyone. "Parker, you don't honestly believe—"
"I don't know what to believe!" he snapped.
"But we've been through so much together ..." Then she turned her eyes on Melinda and all of her professionalism and medical training flew out the window. No longer was Melinda her patient, but just a brash young woman trying to tarnish the one man Shawna loved. "Look," she said, her voice as ragged as her emotions. "I don't really know who you are or why you're here torturing him or even how you got into this room, but I want you out, now!"
"Stop it, Shawna," Parker said.
But Shawna ignored him. "I'll call the guards if I have to, but you have no right to come in here and upset any of the patients—"
"I'm your patient," Melinda said, satisfaction briefly gleaming in her eyes.
"I referred you to—"
"He's the father of my child, dammit!" Melinda cried, wilting against the wall and sobbing like the girl she was.
"She can stay," Parker pronounced as Tom Handle-man, his lab coat flapping behind him, marched into the room. "What the devil's going on here?" he demanded, eyeing Shawna. "Who's she?" He pointed an accusing finger at the huddled figure of Melinda.
"A friend of mine," Parker said, his voice ringing with quiet authority.
"Parker, no!" Shawna whispered, ignoring Tom. "She lied to me this morning—told me the name of her previous physician in Cleveland. I tried to call him—there is no Dr. Harold Rankin in the area."
"Then he moved," Melinda said, stronger because of Parker's defense. "It's—it's been years."
"She has to leave," Shawna decided, turning to Tom, desperation contorting her face.
"Maybe she can help," Tom suggested.
"Help?" Shawna murmured. "She's in here accusing him, lying to him, lying to me—"
Melinda stood, squaring her shoulders and meeting Parker's clouded gaze. "I—I understand why you feel betrayed, Dr. McGuire. First Parker lied to you and then I had to lie this morning. But I just wanted to find out that he was all right. No one would let me in here. Then you convinced me that I had to tell him about the baby—"
"Baby?" Handleman asked, his face ashen.
"—and I decided you were right. Every father has the right to know about his child whether he wants to claim him or not."
"For cryin' out loud!" Tom whispered. "Look, Miss—"
"James," Melinda supplied.
"Let her stay," Parker said.
"You remember me," she said.
Shawna wanted to die as they stared at each other.
"I've met you," Parker admitted, his face muscles taut. "And I don't mean to insult you, Miss James—"
"Melinda. You called me Linnie. Don't you remember?" Her chin trembled and she fought against tears that slid from her eyes.
"I'm sorry—"
"You have to remember!" she cried. "All those nights by the river—all those promises—"
Good Lord, what was she saying? Shawna's throat closed up. "Parker and I were—are—going to be married, and neither one of us believes that he's the father of your child. This is obviously just some way for you and your boy friend to take advantage—"
"No!" Melinda whispered. "I don't care what you believe, but Parker loves me! He—he—" her eyes darted quickly around the room and she blinked. "Oh, please, Parker. Remember," she begged.
Parker gripped the arms of his wheelchair. "Melinda," he said softly. Was it Shawna's imagination or did his voice caress the younger woman's name? "I don't remember ever sleeping with you."
"You deny the baby?"
He glanced at Shawna, his eyes seeming haunted. She could only stare back at him. "Not the baby. I'm just not sure it's mine."
Shawna shook her head. "No—"
"Then maybe you'd want a simple paternity test," Melinda suggested.
"Hey—hold the phone," Tom Handleman cut in. "Let's all just calm down. Right now, Miss James, I'm asking you to leave." Then he glanced at Shawna. "You, too, Dr. McGuire. This has been a strain on Parker. Let's all just give it a rest."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Melinda said staunchly, seeming to draw from an inner reserve of strength. "Don't get me wrong, Parker. I'm not interested in ruining your reputation or trying to damage your professional image, but my baby needs his father."
"So you want money," Parker said cynically.
"Money isn't what I'm after," Melinda said, and Shawna felt a chill as cold as a December wind cut through her. "I want to give my baby a name and I want him to know who his father is. If it takes a paternity test to convince you or a lawsuit, I don't care." Swallowing back a fresh onslaught of tears, she walked unsteadily out of the room.
He nodded and let his forehead drop to his hand. "A little."
Dying inside, Shawna leaned against the bed. After all these weeks, Parker still barely admitted to remembering her—only disjointed pieces of their relationship. And yet within fifteen minutes of meeting Melinda James he conceded that he recognized her. Dread settled over her.
Sick inside, she wondered if Melinda's ridiculous accusations could possibly be true. Did Parker remember Melinda because they had slept together? Was her face so indelibly etched in his mind because of their intimacy? But that was ridiculous—she knew it and deep down, so did he!
She felt that everything she'd believed in was slowly being shredded into tiny pieces.
"You—you and Brad. You saw her that night?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the hospital.
He nodded, his jaw extending. "Yes."
"And you remember?"
"Not everything."
"Maybe she was Brad's girl. Maybe the baby is his."
Parker's eyes narrowed. "Maybe. I don't know."
Tom placed his hand over Shawna's arm and guided her to the door. "Don't torture yourself," he said in a concerned whisper. "Go home, think things through. I guarantee you Parker will do the same. Then tomorrow, come back and take him home."
"Home?" she repeated dully.
"Yes, I'm releasing him tomorrow." He glanced over his shoulder to Parker. "That is, unless Miss James's visit sets him back."
"I hope not," Shawna said, staring at Parker with new eyes, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Look, I really need to talk to him. Just a few minutes, okay?"
"I guess it won't hurt," Tom decided, "but keep it short. He's had one helluva shock today."
"Haven't we all?" Shawna said as Tom closed the door behind him.
Parker didn't look at her. He scowled through the window to the gray day beyond.
Had he betrayed her? Shawna couldn't believe it. Melinda had to be lying. But why? And why had Parker gone to visit the young girl before taking Brad home? Was it to call off their affair? Or had he needed to see her just one more time before the wedding? Shawna's stomach churned at the thought of them lying together, kissing—
"So much for the knight in shining armor, huh?" he mocked.
"I don't believe a word of her lies. And I really don't think you do, either."
"That's the tricky part," he admitted, staring up at the ceiling. "I know I've seen her—been with her, but—"
"—But you don't remember." Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she leaned against the bed.
"She has no reason to lie."
"Neither do I, Parker. I don't know anything about that girl, but I know what we shared and we didn't cheat or lie or betray one another."
"You're sure of that?"
"Positive," she whispered, wishing that awful shadow of doubt would disappear from her mind. "I only wish I could prove it."
Parker watched her blink back tears, saw her fine jaw jut in determination, and loved her for all of her pride and faith in him. Her blond hair draped across her shoulder to curl at her breast, and her eyes, fierce with indignation and bright with unshed tears, were as green as a night-darkened forest. How he loved her. Even lying here, charged with fathering another woman's child, he loved Shawna McGuire. But not because of any memories that had surfaced in his mind. No, this love was new, borne from just being near her. Never had he met any woman so proud and free-spirited, so filled with giving and fighting for what she believed in. And what she believed in was him.
"Do you think you're the father of Melinda's baby?" she finally asked, so close he could touch her.
"I don't know."
She blanched, as if in severe pain. Without thinking he took her hand in his and pulled her gently forward, so that she was leaning over him.
"But I do know that if I ever did anything that would hurt you this much, I have to be the worst bastard that ever walked the earth."
She swallowed. "You . . . you wouldn't."
"I hope to God you're right." His throat felt dry, and though the last thing he intended to do was kiss her again, he couldn't stop himself. He held her close, tilting her chin up with one finger and molding his mouth possessively over hers. "I don't want to ever hurt you, Shawna," he rasped hoarsely. "Don't let me."
"You won't." She felt the promise of his tongue as it gently parted her lips, then heard the sound of voices in the hall. She couldn't think when he held her, and she needed time alone to recover from the shock of Melinda James's announcement. Besides, she'd promised Dr. Handleman she wouldn't upset Parker. "Look, I don't want to, but I've got to go. Doctor's orders."
"To hell with doctor's orders," he muttered, his arms flexing around her, thwarting her attempts at escape.
"Don't mess with the medical profession," she warned, but the lilt she tried for didn't materialize in her voice.
"Not the whole profession," he said slowly, "just one very beautiful lady doctor."
Oh, Parker! Her throat thickened. "Later," she promised, kissing him lightly on the tip of the nose and hearing him moan in response.
"You're doing it again," he whispered.
"What?"
"Driving me crazy." His gaze slid down her body and stupidly, like a schoolgirl, she blushed and ran for the door.
As she drove home, her thoughts were tangled in a web of doubt and despair. Was it possible? Could Melinda's story be true?
"Don't be absurd," she told herself as she maneuvered her little car through the twisted streets of Sellwood. Maple and alder trees had begun to drop their leaves, splashing the wet streets with clumps of gold, brown, and orange.
As Shawna climbed out of the car, a cold autumn breeze lifted her hair from her face, cooled the heat in her cheeks.
"Hey, about time you showed up!" Jake accosted her as he climbed out of a battered old Chevy pickup. "I thought you'd be home half an hour ago."
She'd forgotten all about him, and the fact that he'd offered to help her move. "I—I'm sorry. Uh, something came up," she said, trying to concentrate.
"Oh, yeah?" Jake's brows raised expectantly. "Don't tell me the coach is gonna be released."
"Tomorrow," Shawna said, her voice catching before her brother saw the pain in her eyes.
"Hey—whoa. What happened?" Jake grabbed both her shoulders, then forced her chin upward with one finger and stared down at her.
"You wouldn't believe it."
"Try me." One arm over her shoulders, Jake walked her to the front door and unlocked the dead bolt. The apartment was a mess. Boxes and bags were scattered all over the living-room floor, piled together with pictures, furniture, and clothes.
Shawna flopped in the nearest corner and told Jake everything, from the moment Melinda James had walked into her office until the time when she'd dropped the bomb about Parker being the father of her unborn child.
"And you bought that cockamamy story?"Jake asked, flabbergasted.
"Of course not." Shawna felt close to tears again.
"I hope not! It's ridiculous."
"But Parker did."
"What?"
"He claims to remember her, and admits that he visited her the night Brad was killed!"
Stricken, Jake sat on a rolled carpet. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I don't believe it."
"Neither did I, but you should have been there." Outside, Maestro meowed loudly. "I'm coming," Shawna called, every muscle in her body suddenly slack as she tried to stand and couldn't.
"I'll let him in." Jake opened the door and the bedraggled yellow tabby, wet from the rain, dashed into the house and made a beeline for Shawna. He cried until she petted him. "At least I can trust you," she said, her spirits lifting a little as the tabby washed his face and started to purr noisily.
"You can trust Parker, too," Jake said. "You and I both know it. That guy's crazy about you."
"Tell him," she said.
Jake frowned at his sister. "Okay, so this lunatic girl has made some crazy claims and Parker can't remember enough to know that she's lying. It's not the end of the world." He caught her glance and sighed. "Well, almost the end," he admitted, and even Shawna had to smile. "Now, come on. What's your next step?"
"You're not going to like it," Shawna said, opening a can of cat food for the cat.
"Try me."
"When the movers come tomorrow, I'm going to have them take my things to Parker's."
"His house?" Jake asked, his brows shooting up. "Does he know about this?"
"Nope." She straightened and her gaze narrowed on her brother. "And don't you tell him about it."
"I wouldn't dare," Jake said with obvious respect for Parker's volatile temper. "What about Mom and Dad?"
"I'll explain."
"Good luck. That's one dogfight I don't want any part of."
"I don't blame you." Why was this happening, and why now? She couldn't help thinking back to the Gypsy fortune-teller and her grim prediction.
"Shawna?" Jake asked, concern creasing his brow. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, her chin inching upward proudly. "I'm fine," she said. "I just have to stick by Parker 'til all of this is resolved one way or the other."
"Can I help?"
"Would you mind taking care of Maestro, just for a few days?"
Jake eyed the tabby dubiously. As if understanding he was the center of attention, Maestro leaped to the counter and arched his back as he rubbed up against the windowsill.
"I'm allergic to cats."
"He's outside most of the time."
"Bruno will eat him alive."
Shawna couldn't help but laugh. Bruno was a large mutt who was afraid of his own shadow. "Bruno will stick his big tail between his legs and run in the other direction."
"Okay."
"By the way," she said, feeling better. "You should work on that dog's obvious case of paranoia!"
"Maybe I should work on yours," Jake said, clapping her on the back. "You and I both know that Parker wasn't unfaithful to you."
"But he doesn't know it," Shawna replied, her convictions crumbling a little.
"You'll just have to convince him."
"I'm trying. Believe me." She pushed her hair from her eyes and rested the back of her head against the wall. "But that's not the only problem. What about