Michael's Baby

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Michael's Baby Page 8

by Cathie Linz


  For the next half hour the excitement and noise level rose as the presents were handed out.

  “You know, when I was a kid,” Michael said, “my family had a holiday tradition for St. Nicolas’s Day on December 6th. We’d put our boots on the windowsill and if we’d been good, TElapó—that’s the Hungarian Santa Claus—would fill the boot with goodies. We’d find tangerines, apples, and walnuts…although one year Télapó did leave football playing cards for me along with some bubblegum.”

  “I love to hear about traditions like that. So many countries have special contributions of their own. Just look around this room.” She waved her hand. A majority of the kids were African-American and Hispanic but there were also some Asian kids there, too. “Different ethnic backgrounds, different traditions.”

  “It’s a regular melting pot,” Michael said.

  She nodded. “Christmas seems to bring everyone together. It’s one of the reasons why it’s my favorite holiday.”

  “And the other reason?”

  “The magic.”

  “Ah, yes. Magic.” Michael had never been one to believe in it before, but seeing the glow in Brett’s eyes he felt something unfolding in his heart. Looking at Hope, he was surprised to see the little girl was sound asleep.

  “Maybe the secret is to make a lot of noise and then she’ll fall asleep,” Michael whispered to Brett.

  “It’s getting late,” she whispered back. “We should take her home.”

  Home. For the first time the concept didn’t scare him. Even visions of chintz couches couldn’t make him uneasy.

  “Let me just get those cookies I made for you,” Brett said after they’d arrived back at her apartment. She’d already put Hope, who was still sound asleep, down for the night. Since then she’d been hovering like a jittery hummingbird. “Would you like some coffee?”

  Putting his hand on her arm to anchor her in one place, he murmured, “What I’d like is this…”

  Without further ado, he kissed her.

  The moment had been building for some time, since their last kiss, their very first kiss. Where before Brett had felt as if she’d been engulfed in flames when his mouth had touched hers, now it was more like being totally immersed in something devilishly delicious and totally irresistible. Michael began slowly, as if they had all the time in the world to explore and enjoy. Brushing his lips back and forth against hers created a friction that Brett found delightful.

  Preoccupied with the enchanting feel of his mouth moving against hers, she didn’t even notice that she’d parted her lips until the kiss moved on to the next step. The wild singing in her bloodstream was echoed in the reckless chant of her heartbeat. Closing her eyes, she shut out the rest of the world, her entire focus centered on the beckoning pleasure. He awakened her senses to the simple glory of the roughly murmured sound of him whispering her name, the warmth of his fingers threading through her hair, the clean smell of his skin.

  He shifted his hands so that they gently cupped the back of her head as their kiss deepened, his tongue stroking hers with passionate familiarity. Looping her arms around his neck, Brett leaned closer and let herself go.

  Her reward was his husky growl of approval as he slid his hands down her back, tugging her into his heated embrace. Her breasts brushed against his chest with every breath either of them took. Excitement made her breathe even faster as he lifted his mouth only to shift and lower it for a kiss that was utterly consuming. He experimented with angles and tickling nibbles. She responded with creative moves of her own.

  When his hands finally moved to the bare skin beneath her sweater, she almost wept with relief. She didn’t want the barrier of clothing between them. With the first touch of his hand trailing up her back she knew she’d been waiting for this moment all her life.

  They fit together like a lock and key. His hands caressed her with gentle fierceness, every sliding move creating sparks that lit her soul.

  Twining her fingers in his hair, she gasped as he finally undid the fastening on her bra only to steal beneath its silky contours and brush the soft underside of her breasts with his fingertips. Feeling her melting response, he grew bolder, shoving her bra out of the way in order to cover her breasts with his hands. Her nipples grazed his palms as he handled her with heavenly skill, his touch evoking an intimacy that was both powerful and poignant.

  The closeness of their embrace left her in no doubt as to the urgency of his needs. Her own needs were clamoring for satisfaction when the sound of a baby crying shattered her concentration.

  Brett felt Michael trembling as he buried his face in her hair, his fingers clenched against her shoulders as he sought to regain control.

  Moments later, Brett was free.

  Feeling like a sleepwalker who’d just been jolted awake, Brett automatically made her way over to the crib to soothe the crying little girl. “It’s all right, baby,” she whispered, as much for her own benefit as Hope’s. “It’ll be okay.”

  But would it be? Even as Brett rocked Hope in her arms, her mind was scrambling to deal with what had just happened. This time she hadn’t been the only one affected by the kiss she’d shared with Michael. This time it had been so much more than a kiss!

  Michael watched her, knowing that if the baby hadn’t interrupted them they might well have ended up.where? Where was this heading? When she was in his arms he couldn’t think straight. He’d never felt such raw need for a woman before. He wanted her, it was that simple.

  When his pager went off, Michael checked it before gruffly asking Brett, “Can I use your phone?”

  “Sure.”

  Michael watched Brett put Hope back in her crib while he impatiently waited to be connected to his contact at the police department. “Janos here,” he said curtly. “What’s up?”

  “Bad news.”

  “The baby? Was it kidnapped after all?”

  “No, but it may soon be. From your friend.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know how she heard, I swear I didn’t tell her. She must have heard me talking on the phone to you.”

  “Who?”

  “The social worker from hell.”

  “A social worker knows about the baby?” Michael swore.

  “I’m sorry, man. I thought I should warn you just in case she starts snooping around. I don’t think she has your address, but she probably heard me saying your name. Maybe she won’t follow up, she’s got a work load big enough for a dozen people. But she’s been bugging me for more info about this ‘mystery baby,’ as she calls it.”

  “Keep putting her off. The baby is fine. We’re going to be adopting her.”

  “Don’t you have to be married to do that?”

  “We will be. Thanks for the warning.”

  After hanging up, Michael turned to find Brett standing behind him. “That was your friend at the police station, wasn’t it. What did he say?”

  “Too much.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing we can’t fix by getting married.”

  Six

  “Married?” she gulped.

  “That’s right. It’s the sensible thing to do.”

  “That’s not the way marriage is usually described.”

  “That’s because most people make the mistake of getting all wrapped up in emotion and don’t use their heads.”

  Wrapped up in emotion? Brett thought to herself in dismay. She’d practically been drowning in it when he’d held her a few minutes ago.

  “I can’t imagine why your head would be telling you that marrying me would be a sensible thing to do,” she said. “You don’t even know me that well.”

  “I know you better than you think.”

  She didn’t challenge him on that statement. How could she, when she felt the same way about him? As if she’d known him before, in another time or another life.

  “What did your friend say that made you suddenly decide we should get married?” she asked.


  “I’ve told you before that you needed to have a plan if you were going to have any hope of keeping Hope.”

  “A plan doesn’t mean marriage.”

  “It’s the logical step. Social workers prefer placing babies with couples, rather than single parents.”

  “But the social workers don’t know about Hope.”

  “That’s just the thing. They might.”

  “What! But how?”

  Michael explained what his friend had told him.

  “Oh, that’s just great,” Brett exclaimed, her frantic gaze resting on the baby now asleep once more in her crib. “I’m not going to let them take her away. I’m not!”

  “Marry me and they won’t be able to take her away.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “I know it’s your best chance for keeping Hope.”

  Call her crazy, but Brett found herself actually considering the idea. More than just considering it. She felt as if a powerful voice inside of her was saying “This is your chance at happiness. Go for it!!”

  It might not be sensible, not that she’d ever been known for ber practicality, but Brett knew that she would accept Michael’s surprising proposal. She wasn’t going to risk losing Hope. She’d waited so long to get hope back in her life—the baby and the emotion. The possibility of losing all that now made her decision an easy one to make after all. “Okay,” she said.

  “Good,” he replied.

  She noticed that he seemed pleased by her acceptance, but not surprised by it. Brett couldn’t help wondering if perhaps he’d heard the same voice she had, saying this was his chance at happiness. She immediately dismissed the idea as preposterous. Michael just told her that marriage should be practical. Heaven knows, she’d had first hand knowledge of just how practical some men considered marriage to be.

  While Brett had been shuttled around a dozen foster homes during her formative years, throughout it all she’d been raised in a faith that had taught her marriage was first and foremost for procreation. Those beliefs left her feeling totally inadequate after her hysterectomy, as if she’d failed in her role as a woman.

  Even now, Michael had only suggested marriage because of the baby, not because of the passionate embrace they’d just shared.

  “What happens when we do get married?” she asked him.

  “What do you mean what happens?”

  “Just that. Do I still live down here or…”

  “You and Hope would move in with me. My apartment is a two bedroom. Should the social worker come snooping around, we want to make sure that this looks like a normal marriage.”

  She winced at his use of the term “normal,” feeling it wasn’t an adjective that applied to her.

  “So Hope and I would sleep in one bedroom and you’d be in the other,” she said, wanting to clarify things.

  “That’s one way of doing it. I’d like to think that eventually you and I would be sharing one bedroom and Hope the other. It’s not as if you and I find each other unattractive or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact. When we’ve kissed it’s been…”

  “Yes?” she prompted him.

  “Inflammable.”

  She nodded. It was also magical, but she suspected she was the only one who felt this particular brand of magic. Michael felt the chemistry. Sure, that was a starting point, but a part of her couldn’t help wishing that he felt more for her. Because she was pretty damn sure she’d fallen hopelessly in love with him.

  “So we’re agreed, then?” Michael asked. “Getting married is the sensible thing to do. We’ll take things one step at a time from there. And once we’re married, and things fall into place, we can discreetly go about adopting Hope.”

  “It won’t be that easy. I know how the system works, remember? When my mom left me, she refused to give up her parental rights, which meant that no one could adopt me. By the time it was legally possible for me to be adopted, I was too old for anyone to want me. When I was about nine, one of my many foster parents finally pointed out the economic realities to me. She told me that chances were I’d never get adopted—foster parents got paid for taking care of me as a foster child, but those payments would stop if they adopted me. With a system set up like that, even a nine-year-old could figure out that the odds were stacked against me.”

  “So you stopped hoping?”

  She was impressed by his astuteness. “That would have been the smart thing to do,” she wryly admitted, “but I’m afraid I’m not always awfully smart when it comes to emotions. I’m one of those people who tends to think with their hearts instead of their heads.”

  “And I’m the opposite. But maybe that’s for the best, you know? Because you need someone with a good head on their shoulders to help balance things out. And I need…”

  “Yes?” She waited with bated breath to hear what he had to say.

  “I need a new shirt,” he commented. “Hope has messed this one up but good.”

  She tried not to be disappointed by his practical reply. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got more shirts. Besides, it’s something I’d better get used to, huh?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Brett asked him quietly. “I’ve been wanting a baby for some time now. But you…”

  “I never knew what I was missing. But now that I do, I don’t want to miss out on it any longer.”

  “She’ll be teething soon. Keeping you awake nights.”

  “She’s already done that.”

  “But only a few nights. We’re talking weeks here. And think what’s ahead, the terrible twos, kindergarten, adolescence, dating, high school…”

  “Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” His voice held a wry humor that made her smile. He had a very sexy voice—deep and rich. It reached out and enfolded her.

  “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

  “I know. And I know that it won’t always be easy. But I also know that it’s worth every minute of the effort.”

  “It’s just that people make decisions on the spur of the moment, with all of the best intentions, only to find that they can’t cope after all. I saw it happen at foster homes a number of times. A well-meaning family would take you in, not realizing that taking care of someone else’s child is different from taking care of your own.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” Michael said quietly.

  She looked into his eyes and saw no hesitation or wavering there.

  “In the end they’d bring me back,” Brett whispered.

  “It was their loss,” he replied, gently caressing her cheek. “I’m not going to take you back like a sweater that doesn’t fit, Brett. I’ve been around, I know what I want. I’ve never been married before because it never felt right. Now it does. Circumstances might have forced us to move a little faster than we’d like, but the bottom line is that I can see myself being married to you—and I couldn’t say that about any other woman I’ve ever met.”

  She blinked away the tears. “Then that’s good enough for me,” she said huskily, pressing his hand to her cheek before letting him go, afraid that he’d feel how much she loved him. Wanting to lessen the tension, she shook a teasing finger at him as she said, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I won’t. I guess the next step is to get a license and make the other arrangements to get married at city hall. Unless you have an objection to that? Would you prefer a church wedding, at St. Gerald’s perhaps?”

  “No, city hall would be fine with me.”

  “Okay, then. That’s what we’ll do.”

  “Okay.”

  “You won’t regret it, Brett. I promise you that.”

  She only wished she could promise him the same thing, that he wouldn’t regret it either.

  Saturday morning, Michael opened his apartment door only to almost trip over his boots. “What the hel.heck,” he muttered, switching words as he caught sight of Consuela Martinez
next door. “What are my boots doing out here?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea,” Consuela replied. “You must have had quite a night last night to have left your boots outside and not even remember doing so.”

  “It was indeed quite a night,” Michael replied. “Brett and I got engaged.” Grabbing his boots, he closed his door, satisfied with the older woman’s look of startled delight.

  Looking down at his boots, he only now realized that they were filled with tangerines and walnuts and brightly wrapped chocolate kisses. A note stuck in one boot said “Better late than never. Happy St. Nicholas’s Day!”

  Brett! It had to be. Still carrying the boots, he went back out and headed straight for her apartment downstairs, even though he still had no shoes on. The second Brett opened the door, he said, “How did you get your hands on my boots?”

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  He kissed her. It was an exuberant exchange that left her breathless. “What was that for?” she asked.

  “You know why. Now tell me, how did you get your hands on my boots? They were next to my bed all night.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said demurely.

  He waved his boots in her face. “I tell you about St. Nicholas’s Day and the next morning I find presents in my boots.”

  Brett just smiled and shrugged. “It must be magic.”

  “Yeah, there seems to be a lot of that going around lately.”

  “There he is,” Consuela exclaimed from behind him. “Tell Frieda what you told me,” she ordered Michael. “She doesn’t believe it. Claims my hearing is going and I misunderstood. Hah! As if there was any misunderstanding what’s been going on around here.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Brett asked Michael.

  “I told her we were engaged.”

  “News gets around fast.”

  “Especially in this building,” he said. Turning to face Consuela and Frieda, he put his arm around Brett’s shoulders and repeated his news. “Congratulate us, we’re getting married.”

 

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