The One-Week Baby (Yours Truly)

by Gardner, Hayley

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  Dear Reader

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Dear Reader

  Other Books by

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  West Gallagher figures taking

  care of a laby is as easy as

  one-two-three

  One week is how long he’ll be playing Mr. Mom to the baby he just found on his doorstep….

  Two people should have it easier than one. So maybe it’s just as well that the gorgeous Annie Robicheaux refuses to leave his place without the kid. She says women—with those “maternal instincts” of theirs—are naturally better at this baby stuff than men. Well, he’ll take that bet….

  Three people is an awful lot to have living in his little apartment. But the real problem is that the lovely Annie is awakening a whole other set of instincts in him. And now it seems like a week won’t be nearly long enough….

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the world of technology, where the fax has replaced the phone—even for courting purposes. I have to admit, the most personal message I’ve ever received via fax was an exciting offer to order pastrami on rye from the new deli down the street. But hey, you can’t judge everyone’s life by mine! In Mary Anne Wilson’s Strictly Personal, the hero’s brother uses the fax to send a break-up note to the heroine’s friend. But in a fortuitous case of mistaken identity, he thinks she is the woman scorned, and she thinks he is the cowardly brother. Why fortuitous? Because once they figure everything out, they. well, I’m not going to give the ending away, but suffice it to say you’ll be glad they don’t do everything electronically!

  Hayley Gardner’s back this month, too, with The One-Week Baby, her second FOR BETTER. FOR WORSE. FOR A WEEK! book. West Gallagher likes his bachelor ways, but his good times come to a screeching halt when a screeching infant lands on his doorstep. And as if that’s not enough, the infant is quickly followed by Annie Robicheaux, a sexy lady lawyer who gets West’s heart racing. All of a sudden, the seven days that had seemed interminable when he had to spend them caring for a baby were nowhere near long enough to prove to Annie how much he cared for her!

  That’s it this time around, but don’t forget to come back next month for two more books all about unexpectedly meeting, dating—and marrying—Mr. Right Yours,

  Leslie Wainger

  Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator

  Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  The One-Week Baby

  Hayley Gardner

  To Dan, as always, and happy sixteenth! Special thanks to Melissa and Cris, whose suggestions helped bring the Gallagher brothers to life.

  Dear Reader,

  The other day, I was trying to figure out why I have always wanted to write romances—even before I ever read any. My preromance-writing reading started with the Dick and Jane readers, climbed to fairy tales and then on through all of Carolyn Keene’s works and novels with Annette Funicello and Patty Duke as the main characters based on their television appearances. All good fun, but not the romances I started writing not long after at age thirteen.

  Why romances? That choice came in my early teenage years while watching television Westerns like “The Big Valley” and “Lancer,” when I saw the dark, handsome and slightly vulnerable cowboys were never allowed to have a happily-ever-after with a woman. I, on the other hand, delighted in making sure they all ended up with the loves of their lives, on hundreds of sheets of notebook paper, in my own romances. Of course, since I was a very innocent teenager, those virile cowboys were doomed to spend the rest of their married lives never getting beyond the kissing and hand-holding stages, poor things!

  But now, thanks to Silhouette and you, the reader, I’m again playing matchmaker to my own lonely heroes and heroines—and loving it. Without meeting Gina in The One-Week Wife, how lonely Matt Gallagher would have ended up! And as for his brother, West—well, just turn the page and see what I have in store for him….

  Hayley Gardner

  Books by Hayley Gardner

  Silhouette Yours Truly

  Holiday Husband

  *The One-Week Wife

  *The One-Week Baby

  *For Better…For Worse. For a Week!

  1

  Dear Mr. Gallagher,

  Your book on getting what you want out of life was so awesome, I just had to go to your seminar. That’s where you convinced me—I’ve got to run and lasso my dream while there’s still time, just like you told us we should. You were so nice and caring about people’s troubles during your class, I know you won’t mind taking care of my Teddy while I’m gone. You shouldn’t have a lick of trouble. I don’t think I’ll be gone past Saturday—at least, I hope not. Anyway, with you taking care of Teddy, I won’t worry about a thing. I’ll be in touch!

  Thanks,

  Marcia—the checker at the Shopette

  P.S. I sent a copy of this note to my lawyer so she’ll know my Teddy’s in good hands.

  Folding Marcia’s note in two, West Gallagher gazed down at the blanket-covered, wicker laundry basket on his front porch. How nice, he thought uneasily, that Marcia-from-the-Shopette wasn’t going to worry. He, on the other hand, had a feeling he was about to get plenty worried-unless, that was, by Teddy this Marcia was referring to her favorite stuffed animal.

  But no…Something shifted under the blanket, and the surface rose and fell like an undulating wave. Whatever it was, it could move. Not a teddy bear then. Maybe a puppy.

  Not a puppy. As West stood frozen in place on what had seconds before been his very boring front porch, he knew both guesses were wrong. He knew this because he thought this Marcia-from-the-Shopette would probably have taken a puppy or a stuffed bear with her while pursuing her dream. Only children ever seemed to prove a burden for parents when it came to moving on.

  That he knew for a fact. Shortly after West had turned eight, his father had left home and not come back, and West distinctly recalled that neither he nor his eleven-year-old brother Matthew had been invited to join him. West knew now that either of them tagging along would have just slowed his father down. Marcia had probably left her very own version of a Pandora’s box on his doorstep for the same reasona child got in the way of personal freedom.

  But his father had eventually returned, and West hoped now that just like Luke, Marcia would come back, too, full of remorse, maybe even in the week that she’d promised. West suddenly recalled himself as a little boy clinging to that exact same hope as days, and then weeks, went by without his seeing his old man, and then, when everything went out of control, his mother, and then his brother. Clenching his jaw, he forced back the memories. Just because he’d been left alone didn’t mean that Marcia wouldn’t return for her baby.

  Did it?

  His gut tightening, West looked up and down the street, hoping for a miracle. But then he heard a gurgling sound and looked down at the wicker basket illuminated in his golden porch light.

  Blue elephants appliquéd on the blanket rose and fell, and West knew that no matter how much he wanted to remain in a pleasant, zombielike state of inactivity and denial, there was a baby under that cover, and he had to do something. But in that basket was a time bomb, just waiting for him to get close enough so it could explode and disintegrate his perfectly organized life, and he was very rel
uctant to unwrap the package.

  The blanket’s top edge suddenly flipped downward. A chubby baby, maybe six months old—and with what little he knew about babies, he was guessing—with a square face and wide mouth waved both hands at West, seemingly wanting to be picked up. A boy, from the looks of him.

  “Marcia,” West muttered under his breath, “even if you were feeling extremely grateful for my help, you should never have left me your firstborn son.”

  Damn, but he should have let well enough alone and remained a successful financial planner on the East coast. He should have ignored the burst of creativity that had led him to write his book on how he’d made something out of his life after his parents had given him up to the foster care system.

  But, at the time, who would have guessed something like this could happen? Then all he’d known was that he wanted to pay tribute to one of his high school teachers, Joseph Hayden, who had taught him never to give up if he truly wanted something. There were too few people like Joe, liked and respected for helping others. West had always wanted to be one of them, helping people who’d been like him—floundering all alone in the world.

  And from the looks of it, he thought wryly, staring down at the bundle of joy in front of him, that particular wish had just been granted.

  He guessed he shouldn’t complain too much. If he hadn’t written his book, he wouldn’t have been on television, and his father wouldn’t have known how to contact him after twenty years of separation. Best of all, his father had known where his brother was, and West had been able to be the surprise best man at his brother’s wedding. Up to now, seeing Matt so happy with his new wife, Gina, had been well worth the minor troubles that the fame from the book and seminars had brought him. Troubles like a slew of women sending him things—undies, nude photos.

  And now a baby. What next? He frowned in alarm. Maybe he’d better cancel his upcoming infomercial. Someone might see it and leave him a wife!

  The baby cooed and drew him out of his thoughts.

  “Uh, Teddy, I guess Mama’s not coming back any second penitent and apologetic, huh?” Leaning down, West picked up the child, deciding to stay outside to give Marcia a few more minutes to change her mind.

  Once out of the basket, Teddy blew a bubble and arched back to look up at West. As heavily lashed, innocent brown eyes stared at him and the scent of baby lotion drifted up, something tugged inside West in the vicinity of his heart—which made him very nervous. He was getting too involved in this, just because the kid had reminded him of the past he didn’t want to think about.

  West sighed. Long ago in his first foster home, he’d learned that whining got you nowhere, but still, in this case, he figured maybe he was entitled to one little reversal in his otherwise upwardly mobile outlook on life.

  “Why me?” he asked out loud.

  The baby poked his finger into West’s chin, reminding him who the important one was here.

  “Yeah, yeah, Teddy, I know. The question is really why you, right? Let me tell you kid,” he said in a low, man-to-man voice, “I’ve been there. My mother gave me away, too, so I can sympathize. Maybe you wound up in the right place with the right guy after all.”

  His eyes never shifting from West’s, the kid seemed mesmerized. West wanted to think Teddy was agreeing, that he did feel better off here, but deep within, where West still felt the pain from his childhood, he knew better—kids needed their mothers.

  “How could your mommy do this?” he asked Teddy, who finally blinked. At twenty-eight, West still hadn’t figured out the answer to that. Each time he read or heard of someone abandoning their helpless child he got exasperated. In fact, he felt so strongly against children getting the kind of raw deal in life he had, he’d long ago vowed he’d never personally be responsible for putting any kid through the wringer of divorce or separation. Which meant, quite simply, he was never going to have kids.

  That decided, there had never seemed to be any reason to get married. He wished the best for his brother and his new wife, of course, but from what West had observed around him, wedded bliss never lasted very long after the first couple of arguments. The only two relationships West had ever developed had ended swiftly when the ladies discovered they couldn’t change his mind about having a family. So much for true love.

  No kids, no marriage. He was not daddy material. He grinned at Teddy, awkwardly bouncing the baby in his arms. “Your mama certainly had me pegged all wrong, didn’t she?”

  Teddy ahhhed.

  Well, the fact was, Marcia had lucked out. For no matter what his personal view was on having his own children, West couldn’t stand the idea of actually turning the kid in to the authorities. His past in the foster care system had taught him officials tended to say one thing and do exactly another, and usually that other thing had nothing to do with what was good for the kid in question. Like the time they’d promised him he’d stay with his brother, then later dragged him away from Matt kicking and screaming, splitting them apart for twenty years. The hurt and mistrust from having gone through that still ran deep inside West and made him totally unwilling to call anyone for help now. Nobody was going to keep Teddy from eventually going home.

  “We’ll just have to find your mother, kid, and give you back,” he said, awkwardly patting the baby’s silky cheek. “I’ll make sure she gets help first, though.” He wasn’t sure if he could make that happen, but Teddy gurgled and gazed up at him with trusting eyes that made him feel powerful.

  If he had to blackmail Marcia into going for counseling, he would, West decided. He couldn’t save all the kids in the world, but he for damned sure could help the one that had been dropped on his doorstep.

  “Another minute or two, and we’ll go in, okay?” West asked the baby, still hoping Marcia would reappear. To kill time, he gave Teddy a quick once-over to see what the baby might need immediately. Not food—Teddy was extremely content. Not diapers or a bath, either—he smelled baby-powder sweet. Good. That would buy him some time until he figured out what his next step would be.

  “This could have been worse, kid.” West chucked him gently under the chin. “At least you aren’t old enough to remember being left behind by your mama.”

  Not like he’d been. He’d never forget. The day his mother had walked off and left him and Matt with the county, she’d worn a scalloped, white-lace collar and tiny pearl earrings, and her cheeks had been damp with tears against his when she’d hugged him goodbye. Then, her back straight, she’d turned and walked down the long hallway as the cavernous corridor echoed his crying, disappearing through the heavy front door of the building as the foster care people gripped his arms and waist to keep him from running after her.

  Once in the system, all he’d had left was his brother Matthew. Within two weeks, the foster care people had split them up, too. A vacant sort of pain reminded West that he’d never lost his loneliness or his bitterness. Twenty years he’d spent with no real family, because foster care hadn’t found a way to keep him and his brother together. Now, even though thanks to his father—or maybe thanks to his fame—he knew where his family was, they were all little more than strangers with a common beginning. His brother was busy in the air force, and his parents were back in Kentucky, together—for now, anyway.

  Hell, no, West thought, boosting Teddy up against his shoulder. He wasn’t about to trust the system to know what was best for any kid. He wasn’t about to make Teddy go through what he had-years without anyone who cared about him in his life, too young and helpless to change things for himself. Adults had a choice. Kids didn’t.

  He glanced at Teddy. What the hell was he going to do with a baby? Babies needed things, like diapers, food…

  It suddenly occurred to him that Marcia might have left either or both of those, or another note with whom to contact in case of an emergency on it—he should be so lucky—in the basket. With a rush of hope, holding Teddy securely with one arm, he knelt and started searching. He did find another blanket, a couple of dispos
able diapers, an empty bottle, and a piece of clothing that looked like long johns with feet—but no note.

  “Looks like Mama didn’t want to leave me an escape clause, huh, Teddy?”

  Teddy suddenly let out a string of one-syllable sounds.

  “Ha! I knew you were holding out on me,” West said, grinning again, rising to his feet. “Since you do talk, maybe you can tell me why you’re here. What lesson am I supposed to suffer through this time?”

  The baby went serenely silent.

  “Not squealing, huh? This is probably going to be one of those endure-till-you-get-things-right deals, isn’t it?” No answer. “Okay, okay. I’ll hold my questions until we find your mother. I can’t wait to ask her a few. Like, on what page in my book did I offer to take in babies? And, what sort of bender was her common sense on when she equated anything I wrote with leaving you on a doorstep? But for now, it’s time to go inside and spring into action.”

  First he’d check his seminar registration records for Marcia’s address, then at the Shopette to see if they knew anything. But then again, maneuvering around the city with Teddy was going to be tricky without a car seat. Hiring a detective might be easier.

  Trying to remember Marcia from the myriad faces he’d seen both at the Shopette and at his seminars, West set Teddy back down in the basket and grabbed both handles, preparing to carry the whole load over the threshold into his house. Before he got up, though, a car screeched to a stop in front of his house, and a woman shoved open the driver’s side door.