by Arlene James
“...might be better to just buy all new stuff,” he was saying. “I’ll have to check that out, but until I know for sure, you shouldn’t remove anything from the house. You might want to just go over and look around to see what you’re going to need, though. You be the judge. But until the will’s probated, we’re going to step carefully, you understand?”
“I understand,” Parker said, thinking that he’d rather take a beating than go back into Nathan’s house knowing that Nathan would never go there again. “I’ll have her settled in by tonight.”
Edward nodded, his abstraction a sure sign that he had already moved on to other matters. “You’ll have to cancel your social calendar,” he said pointedly. “No more loud parties, no more hard drinking, no more bars and nightclubs and no more, er, overnight guests. For that matter, don’t be spending nights at anyone else’s, either.” He sent Parker an apologetic look. “Sorry, pal, but your sex life goes on hiatus as of right now. Agreed?”
Parker grimaced. “I can live without sex.” For a while, he amended mentally. Then he amended that. For as long as it takes. He clenched his fists. “Go on.”
Edward shrugged. “Well, you’re financially secure, anyway, and professionally, you’re right at the top. Congratulations, by the way, on being offered a partnership by your firm. It can’t hurt that you’re one of the top architects in the state. But have you thought about what you’re going to do with the k—ah, Darla, while you’re working?”
Parker bit back a curse. No, he hadn’t thought about what he was going to do with Darla while he was at the office. Mrs. Hoft was out of the question, of course. She’d made it plain upon which side she stood. No, he’d have to find someone more trustworthy than that. He supposed he could call an agency. He had a few days, after all. Surely no one would expect him in the office for a few days. He had a brother to bury. The thought reminded him rather forcefully that he had arrangements to make. Phone calls and decisions waited for him. He rubbed his hands over his face.
“I’ll think of something,” he said as much to himself as to Edward.
Ed leaned back in his chair. “While you’re doing it,” he said, “consider the obvious, will you?”
Parker stretched, working the kinks out of his back. “Which is?”
Edward shook his head. “It’s obvious as the nose on your face,” he said. “What you need, good buddy, is a wife—and the sooner the better.”
Chapter Three
“Well, it was just an idea,” Edward said lightly. “Your little black book may list more women’s numbers than the telephone directory, but no doubt every one of them has been given to understand that you are not the marrying kind.”
“Naturally,” Parker murmured. But a voice inside his head asked, Not even for Darla’s sake? Shaken, Parker stared at Ed and faced the truth inside. Without Darla, he was utterly alone in the world. To prevent that, he would do anything, even marry, and if said marriage had the added benefit of protecting Darla from Sandra Pendleton’s psychological experimentation and keeping her where Nathan and Candace had wanted her to be, how could he think of not doing it?
But holy cow, marriage! He tried to picture himself married and sitting home nights with the baby and the little woman, but the image just wouldn’t coalesce. He could put himself and Darla there, but the woman simply escaped him. Names kept flitting through his head, but he couldn’t make himself put the faces into the scene—and then suddenly a face popped into place, the name following a split second afterward. Kendra Ballard.
Excitement seized him, excitement and hope. Kendra Ballard. Of course! Who better? He’d known her forever, and she was a pediatric nurse. Moreover, she was not only his friend but a close friend of Nathan’s—or she had been. Surely she would want Nathan’s wishes fulfilled. She’d want the best for his baby daughter. And she wasn’t indifferent to Parker, either. She had comforted him when the awful news had come, and it had seemed natural that she do so, now that he thought about it. But best of all, she wasn’t in love with him or even enamored of him! She knew exactly who and what he was. With her, it could be a straightforward kind of deal, as real or not as they wished to make it, and once the objective was achieved, they could end it quietly and calmly without all the emotional angst that would accompany false expectations. By Jove, it just might work!
He blinked at Edward, her name about to tumble from his lips, when the one serious drawback hit him. Edward. Edward was in love with Kendra Ballard, or what passed for love with him, anyway. True, the two of them had broken up some months ago, but everyone knew that Edward was still carrying the torch. He had thought that he was going to marry Kendra. Some of the excitement went out of Parker, a vague sense of disappointment replacing it. But wait. He wasn’t in love with Kendra. Surely if he made Edward understand that... On the other hand, he couldn’t see Edward standing quietly by while he played house with the comely Kendra. No, it would have to be a sham marriage to satisfy Edward, no fun and games involved.
Parker was surprised at how disappointed he felt. He had pondered the possibility before of indulging in a little adult play with the delectable Miss Ballard, but Nathan had warned him away long ago. He had even thought at one time that Nathan and she would get together, but then Candace had come along, and that had been that. Still, Nathan’s affection for Kendra hadn’t changed even when Candace had come on the scene, so Parker had kept his distance. Well, maybe not quite so much distance as before, but by then she had been involved with his best friend, so he hadn’t done more than simply entertain the idea of seducing her. It appeared that was all he was going to do now, too. Who would have thought it? Parker Sugarman considering marriage to the one woman with whom he couldn’t, or shouldn’t, share his bed. His mother had told him that God would punish him one day.
Or maybe he was going mad. Maybe grief had driven him mad, and he didn’t even know it. But then he wouldn’t, would he?
Groaning, he bowed his head and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. Life had been simple once, gloriously simple, and now suddenly he was drowning in confusion. Edward was speaking, and it was very, very difficult for Parker to attend him, but he tried.
“...take care of her alone, anyway,” Ed was saying. “Another pair of hands would come in real handy, don’t you think? Of course, marriage would go a long way to proving to the court that you’ve actually settled down and changed your stripes, but the hiring of the right kind of help would at least prove you have your niece’s best interests at heart. I’d recommend a grandmotherly type, someone above reproach.”
He went on, but Parker couldn’t make himself follow. “I understand,” he interrupted forcefully. “You’ve made your point. Now let me think, will you?”
“Absolutely,” Edward said, the ring of triumph in his voice. “It’s a big step, not to be taken lightly. Try to come up with someone the court would find acceptable.”
Parker actually felt his mouth curving in a smile. “No strippers, huh?”
“No strippers,” Edward confirmed. “No topless waitresses. No porn actresses.”
“I don’t know any porn actresses.”
“No bimbos.”
“Well, that narrows the field.”
“No easy lays whose numbers you’ve gotten off the bathroom wall.”
“Give me a little credit for class, will you? I’ll have you know that I only consult walls in the very best bathrooms.”
“Ha-ha. I’m serious as a heart attack here, bud. You’re cleaning up your act but good, see?”
“Edward,” Parker asked smoothly, “were you ever a gangster in a former life?”
“Cute,” Edward said, getting to his feet. “Maybe the vernacular is cheesy, but the advice is caviar, chum. See that you take it.”
Parker saluted smartly. “Yes, sir.”
A thin, wobbly wail drifted upon the air.
“You’re being paged,” Edward quipped.
“So I hear.” Parker sighed, suddenly exhausted again, but
he got up nonetheless.
“Jeez, Parker, are you really sure about this?” Edward asked, clearly in awe.
Parker thought of how easy it would be to let the Pendletons take the baby home. No more crying. No more diapers. No more worries. No nothing. Something in him protested violently. He swallowed, wanting to get to her as quickly as possible. “See yourself out, will you?” he said, hurrying away.
“You didn’t answer the question,” Edward protested.
“Oh, yes, I did,” Parker called over his shoulder.
Edward muttered something else, but Parker didn’t wait around to hear what it was. He trotted into his bedroom and went directly to the bed. He could see her little arms and legs flailing over the tops of the pillows with which he’d surrounded her. She was merely fussing, impatient but not distressed. He leaned into the bed on one knee and peered down at her.
“I’m here,” he said gently. Her gaze fixed on him, and a smile lit her face. Carefully, he slid his hands beneath her and lifted her up against his shoulder, recognizing the warmth and weight of a wet diaper.
She grunted sounds at him, telling him she was pleased by this response, and he nuzzled her cheek with his nose, inhaling the peculiarly clean aroma of baby. Her hand smacked him on the cheek, then her tiny fingers found his earlobe and latched on. He chuckled and hugged her ever so carefully.
“I’m sure,” he whispered. “Oh, yes, I’m sure.”
* * *
Kendra watched with more dismay than she’d believed possible as the movers from the used furniture dealer hoisted her—their—sofa, turned it on its side and carried it unceremoniously out the door. She followed them to the door, inhaled deeply before closing it, then wandered back to the remaining chair and plopped down into it. They would be coming back for it in a few moments, but until then it was hers and she intended to enjoy it. She told herself once more that she had been wise to sell the furniture rather than to store it, but she couldn’t help thinking that she’d spent the past four years of her life with that couch, this chair and the three matching tables already carted out. She would be less than human—well, less than female—if she didn’t feel a twinge of regret. A twinge. That was funny. What she was feeling was no twinge, it was more like a convulsion.
Someone tapped at her door—the movers, no doubt, come for the chair. She sighed, rose and opened the door. There stood Parker Sugarman with a sleeping baby in his arms, a bottle in hand and a diaper bag slung over one shoulder. His dark ash-brown hair was mussed and his jaws and chin bore the sooty shadows of an unshaved beard. Her mouth dropped open, and he must have thought she was about to shriek or something for he lifted a finger and pressed it to his lips, glancing down at the baby. Kendra felt the sudden urge to giggle. Parker Sugarman with a baby. Who’d have thought it?
She clamped a hand over her mouth and signaled him to enter. He stepped over the threshold with the same care he’d have used if it had been a live snake, and the baby slept peacefully on, cradled in stiff arms. Kendra pushed the door shut, careful to prevent any startling sound, and followed him into the center of the room, where he stood, awkwardly staring around him at the emptiness.
“Is that Darla?” she whispered, and got a nod of his head in return. “Is she all right?”
Another nod.
“Are you all right?”
The answer this time was a hand raked through wavy hair, a deeply indrawn breath and a shrug of shoulders accompanied by a dubious nod.
Kendra lifted both brows. She supposed that meant that he was as all right as he could be under the circumstances. His brother and sister-in-law had been dead less than thirty-six hours, after all, and his haggard look coupled with the infant sleeping soundly in his arms indicated that neither of them had gotten much rest during the night. She patted his cheek sympathetically, then dropped the hand to his back and pushed him toward the chair. He went reluctantly, dragging his feet, but settled down into the chair once he got there, the baby held securely against his chest. Kendra sat down on the floor in front of him and folded her legs beneath her.
“Now,” she said softly, “want to tell me what you’re doing here—with her?”
He eased the baby down until his elbow rested upon the arm of the chair, a look of such love on his face that Kendra caught her breath. He glanced up at her, and his expression changed to one of worry. “I didn’t know where else to go,” he confided. “I’ve thought it over very carefully and—”
The boom of a fist upon her door startled them all, jerking the baby awake and turning Parker’s carefully modulated words into a growl. Kendra groaned. The movers! She leapt up to her feet just as an ear-piercing wail, pitiful in its misery, filled the empty room. Parker quickly lifted the baby to his shoulder and began to jiggle her and pat her back, crooning comfortingly.
“It’s the movers come for the chair,” she declared over the baby’s crying.
The door opened at that, and the two burly furniture movers stepped inside. Parker shot them a look of displeasure as he got to his feet and stepped aside, balancing the squalling infant. The two men looked at each other, shrugged and seized the chair, lifting it easily. Within moments, they were gone, leaving Kendra with a disgruntled Parker and a screaming Darla.
“Oh, Parker, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
A wry smile twisted his lips. “Well, now that you mention it,” he said, patting the baby frantically, “you could marry me.”
Her mouth fell open, but then she told herself that he was joking, and the gape became a giggle. “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor,” she said, chuckling, but the look in his eyes didn’t alter in the slightest. She cocked her head, studying him. He was serious! “It’s not your sense of humor you’ve lost, it’s your mind!” she exclaimed.
“No,” he said gently. “What I’ve lost is my family, all but this one precious piece of it.” He spread his hand over the baby’s back protectively, his expression softening, but his glittering gaze stayed with Kendra’s. “I need you,” he told her, and her heart flip-flopped in her chest. “I need you to be my wife.”
* * *
“It makes perfect sense,” he insisted half an hour later. “It’s the answer to all my problems.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” she said, “but putting that aside for now, what about me? Did it escape your notice that I’m in the process of making a life-changing move here? I’m on my way to Africa!”
They were sitting cross-legged on her living room floor. Parker was burping the baby, having quieted her earlier by thrusting the bottle nipple into her mouth, and Kendra found that she was fascinated by the way he handled the infant, as if she might shatter into a thousand pieces with one wrong move. He had cooed, too, and wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously while gazing down at her. The baby had grinned around the nipple, then industriously suckled again, all her energies bent on draining that bottle, while her eyes had stayed glued to Parker’s face. She couldn’t blame her, Kendra mused. It was a handsome face, all strong angles and planes with those dark, heavy brows, those milk chocolate eyes, sculpted lips and that tiny cleft in the center of a square chin. But marry that face? It was a measure of Parker’s arrogance that he would even come here and ask it of her, and yet despite the fact that it was all for his own convenience, she was flattered.
“Why would you want to go to Africa,” he asked, “when a helpless infant right here needs you?”
“That helpless infant has you,” Kendra answered calmly, “and failing that, the Pendletons.”
“Over my dead body,” he rumbled, and Darla burped as if to second that. Parker turned his head and grinned at her. “That’s my girl.” He dandled her above him, and she promptly threw up on his shirtfront. “Yuck! Darla!”
Kendra couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll get you a towel.” She rose and went into the kitchen, which was separated by the living area only by a short bar. She was trembling, and her stomach was tied in knots, but she vowed not to t
hink of it. She whipped a towel from the oven handle and hurried back to him with it. He had laid Darla in the bend of his leg and was tweaking her toes and talking to her.
“Spit up on your Uncle Parker, will you? And after I gave you all that nice milk, too.”
“A little too much milk, perhaps.” Kendra offered the towel.
He took it and dabbed at his shirtfront. “You don’t think she’s sick, then?”
Kendra knelt beside them and laid a hand against the baby’s face. No fever. She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think she just got greedy and took too much formula, or maybe the formula’s too rich for her.”
“See,” Parker said, “that’s the kind of thing I’m talking about. That’s precisely what I need you for—that and keeping her with me.”
“Are you so sure you should keep her with you, Parker?” she asked gently.
His face clouded and closed over. “I’ve already told you that Nathan and Candace wanted me to have her,” he said coldly. “They thought I would be the best guardian for her, and they didn’t agree with Sandra Pendleton’s child-rearing methods at all.”
Kendra sighed and sat down again. “Yes, well, I always did think they were a bit too rough on Sandra. She’s a doctor, after all and though her methods may be somewhat extreme, they’re not harmful.”
“Not harmful?” Parker echoed incredulously. “Do you know that the last time she was pregnant she taped stereo headphones to her abdomen and talked to the kid through a microphone all day long? In two languages, no less! She claims the kid was born with the ability to count and multiply. Now how would she know that? It’s a cinch the kid didn’t tell her! But do you know what really bugs me? She doesn’t let her children go to public school. They don’t socialize with other kids their ages at all. She says she doesn’t want them corrupted. Corrupted! And last year at Christmastime her oldest told me that Santa was merely—and I quote—‘an exploded myth used to blunt the natural, healthy impulses of children in a self-centered society.’ Not harmful! Well, let me tell you, she’s not going to put her zany ideas into this little one’s head! No, sir. This bambina is going to have a nice, normal American childhood with all the attendant neuroses!”