Kitabı oku: «Maybe My Baby», sayfa 2
She watched as he took the baby to the sofa and laid it down there to unfasten the snowsuit. Then he removed the pajamas that were underneath it, and then the diaper.
“Looks like Mickey is a boy,” Aiden announced unnecessarily, replacing the diaper in a hurry and with more expertise than Emmy would have had. “Don’t let him roll off the sofa,” he instructed, going for his medical bag where he’d left it on a table near the front door.
Bringing it back with him, he went on to examine the child who was still watching everything with wide eyes and sucking on the pacifier, only protesting when Aiden used the stethoscope to listen to his heart and lungs.
“I’d say Mickey, here, is about seven months old, well fed and taken care of and as healthy as they come,” was the final diagnosis.
“And why was he left on the porch? Or do you often have people drop off their children late at night for a checkup?”
“No, this is a first.”
“You don’t know the child or who he belongs to or where he came from?” Emmy asked with undisguised disbelief.
“I know as much as you do,” Aiden said patiently.
Emmy stared at him, wondering how he could possibly be so calm about this.
Then something clicked in her brain and she began to replay all that had happened since she’d landed in Alaska. The need to take the small plane into the middle of nowhere. To stay in a strange, distractingly attractive man’s cabin away from everything and everyone, in a room without central heat. And now a baby left on the doorstep?
This had to be some kind of practical joke Howard was playing on her.
Or maybe it was a test to see how she handled whatever curves came her way and to find out if she really was better suited to the job than Evelyn had been.
“This is all a setup, right?” she heard herself say. “Howard just wants to see how I deal with the unexpected, if I can keep my eye on the ball and not get overly involved in matters that don’t concern me. I know he thought Evelyn didn’t make it as director because she was so freaked out by the things that happened on these trips. He thought that she took everything too seriously and too personally, that she got too involved in things that didn’t have anything to do with the grants, that she lost sight of what she was in these communities to do, of what was and what wasn’t her business and let the wrong things influence her recommendations. So he decided to put me through trial by fire, didn’t he?”
Aiden settled Mickey on his knee and looked at Emmy as if she’d lost her mind. “The only thing Howard set up was the opportunity for Boonesbury to be considered for the grant.”
“Come on. Making me fly in the same kind of plane Evelyn nearly crashed in? Making me stay here? A baby left on the porch the minute I arrive? Howard arranged it all.”
“I’m sorry, Emmy, but he didn’t. This is just the way things are.”
It was not a good sign that even in the middle of this the sound of him saying her name made her melt a little inside, and she wondered if she was just on some kind of overload. She had been up since four o’clock that morning, after all, and it had hardly been a relaxing day.
But still she didn’t give up the notion that Howard had planned what had happened since she’d landed in Alaska to test her. And she knew that even if he had, his cohort here wasn’t likely to confess from the get-go.
“Okay, fine. This is just the way things are,” Emmy repeated with a note of facetiousness. “So what does that mean? That while I’m here and you’re giving me the tour of Boonesbury’s medical needs we’re going to deal with an abandoned baby, too?”
“Well, it looks like I am. I don’t have a choice. Somebody left this baby here, and they must have had a reason. For now I need to find out who that person is and what the reason was and decide what to do about it. But I won’t let it—or Mickey—stand in the way of what you’re here to do. Boonesbury really could benefit from that grant money.”
“And you’re just going to take it in stride,” Emmy said, still finding it difficult to believe anyone could be so cool about it all.
Aiden Tarlington shrugged his shoulders again. “This is Alaska. Things in Fairbanks, Anchorage, Juneau—the cities—are pretty much what you’d find in the lower forty-eight. But out here there’s a mix of stubborn independence and neighbor helping neighbor. I know these people and I know this baby being here could mean just about anything. But, like I said, I’ll make sure it doesn’t interfere with what you’re here to do, or impact on you in any way.”
And if this was all some kind of test Howard had set up, she decided on the spot that she was going to pass it. That she wasn’t going to get upset by this turn of events and call the head of the board of trustees to whine about it the way Evelyn would have. That she wasn’t going to take it upon herself to care for that baby even if she was itching to hold him and comfort him and let him know he was with people who would be kind to him. That she wasn’t going to let herself be distracted the way Evelyn would have been. Or let herself be swayed in Boonesbury’s favor because she was already having her heartstrings tugged.
She was there to assess medical needs of the entire area and community and that was all. Period. Finito. That was the total sum and substance of what she was concerning herself with. She knew that Howard had very nearly not given her the job because Evelyn had left him with so many doubts that a woman could do it. Doubts that a woman could weather the hardships of these trips and remain objective in the face of the things she might see. And Emmy was going to prove him wrong.
So, with all of that in mind, Emmy tried to ignore Mickey by raising her chin and her gaze high enough not to see him and said, “I’m sure everything will work out. But if you don’t mind, I’ve had a really long day and I think I’ll leave you to do whatever you need to with Mickey to get him settled in for the night.”
“Sure. You must be beat. There won’t be any rush to get out of here tomorrow, so you can sleep in as long as you want and we’ll just go into town whenever you’re ready.”
“Great.”
Aiden stood to walk her to the door, taking Mickey along with him. “If you need anything just stomp on the floor a couple of times and I’ll come running.”
“Okay. Good luck with this,” Emmy added, nodding at Mickey.
“Thanks,” Aiden said with a small chuckle, as if he could use some luck.
Or a benefactor who hadn’t enlisted him to test the new director, Emmy thought. Although she was impressed by how good he was at the charade. Obviously, Howard had chosen well in his coconspirator.
Emmy opened the front door and flinched at the blast of cold air that came in. “Better keep Mickey out of the draft,” she advised. “I’ll close this behind me.”
Aiden nodded, staying a few feet back.
“Good night,” Emmy said.
“Sleep well.”
She pushed open the screen door, then stepped out onto the porch and turned to pull the wooden door shut.
But as she did she couldn’t help taking one last look at Aiden Tarlington, standing there holding that baby, and she was struck by what an appealing sight it was to see the big, muscular man cradling the infant in his arms.
But she wasn’t going to let any of it get to her, she reminded herself firmly.
Not the adorable, abandoned baby.
Not the wilderness.
Not the rustic room without heat.
Not the idea of needing to fly back to civilization in the tiny plane when this was over.
And not the drop-dead-gorgeous, sexy doctor she was sort of living with.
Evelyn, Emmy knew, would never have been able to keep her mind on the job with all these distractions.
But Emmy was determined that she would.
Chapter Two
Aiden woke up early the next morning and immediately rolled to his side to peer down at his youngest houseguest.
He’d pumped up an air mattress and placed it between the bed and the wall as a makeshift crib, but he hadn’t been sure it was the safest way for the baby to sleep. Worrying about it had made for a restless night. But, as he had on every other bed check, he found Mickey sound asleep, peacefully making sucking noises as if he were practicing for breakfast.
Even though it came as a relief to see once again that the infant was all right, Aiden didn’t hold out much hope of falling back to sleep himself. The sun wasn’t anywhere near rising yet, so he rolled to his back again, closed his eyes and tried to relax enough to maybe doze off.
Except that now he could hear those sucking sounds and he just kept thinking, What the hell am I doing with a baby…?
He’d thought he’d pretty much seen it all up here during the past seven years. But he had to admit that having a baby left on his doorstep was a new one. He delivered babies, he didn’t have them left with him.
As he’d put his tiny charge to bed he’d tried to figure out if Mickey was one of the babies he’d delivered seven months or so ago, but he hadn’t been able to tell. A newborn and a seven-month-old didn’t look much alike. Even the eye color often changed. And it wasn’t as if he could remember specific, identifying features of each baby, because he couldn’t.
And then there was the other possibility. The possibility he didn’t want to consider. The possibility he had to consider even if he didn’t want to.
What if Mickey was his? What if that was the reason he’d been left with him?
If it hadn’t been for one single night, he would have been able to say there was no way that it was possible that he was Mickey’s father. But there had been that one single night. And when he’d counted backward—seven months for what he guessed to be Mickey’s age and then another nine months gestation—he had to admit that that one single night could have, in fact, resulted in Mickey.
That thought chased sleep further from his grasp, and Aiden opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling.
One single night…
One single night when his marriage had fallen apart, when Rebecca had left him, that he’d gone into town and drowned his sorrow in a whiskey bottle.
And ended up sleeping with Nora Finley.
But until now he’d thought sleeping was all they’d done.
Even now he couldn’t remember anything beyond being in Boonesbury’s bar to tie one on and meeting up with Nora.
He only knew that when he finally came to the next morning, there had been a note on the pillow beside him that said, “Thanks for a good time, Nora.”
But since he’d still had his pants on he’d assumed the “good time” they’d had had merely been drinks and laughs and maybe sharing a platonic mattress.
He’d been sure that nothing else had happened. He liked Nora well enough but she was a long—long—way from his type. To say she was rough around the edges was a kind description of the woman who had hacked out a place in the woods to build her cabin with her own two hands, and who made her living running dogsled races. And rough around the edges was not something he’d ever found attractive.
But now he couldn’t be absolutely positive that nothing beyond drinks and laughs had happened. Maybe he had offered her more than a place to crash for a night.
Mickey didn’t look like Nora, Aiden reminded himself, in an effort to find something to hang some hope on to. Mickey didn’t look like Aiden, either. Or like anyone Aiden knew.
But the hope he derived from that was fleeting. Looks were hardly conclusive proof of anything.
Which meant that he was going to have to do some investigating. Some testing. Some questioning.
And all right away.
Unfortunately.
Because although this was not something he ever wanted to be faced with, having it happen now was phenomenally bad timing.
He was grateful to Howard Wilson for submitting Boonesbury for the grant that Emmy Harris was there to consider them for. The money would be a huge help in updating the care he could give, and Aiden had planned to do everything he could to convince her to recommend that they get it. Only now he had Mickey and this whole situation to deal with, too.
But there was nothing he could do about it. He just had to hope that Emmy Harris would be as understanding and patient as she was lovely to look at.
That thought made him nervous the moment after he’d had it. On two counts.
First of all, Emmy Harris had already not seemed patient and understanding about Mickey. Actually Mickey’s arrival had sort of pushed her over the edge, Aiden recalled, as he considered the end of last evening and the foundation’s director saying what she’d said about Howard setting up these complications, about this being a trial by fire.
She hadn’t seemed patient or understanding then. She’d seemed agitated.
And second of all, what was he doing thinking about her being lovely?
That didn’t have a place in any of this.
It was tough to ignore, though, he secretly admitted to himself.
Because she really was a knockout. And a whole lot more his type than Nora Finley.
Not that he was interested in Emmy Harris personally. But, purely on an empirical basis, she was a very attractive woman. How could he not notice that? How could he not notice that she had skin as flawless as Mickey’s? And high cheekbones that no plastic surgeon could have fashioned as well? And a small nose with the faintest hint of a bump on the bridge that kept it from being too perfect and ended up making it just plain cute? And lips full enough to inspire images of long, slow kisses…
Fast—think about what you didn’t like about her, he ordered himself before his mind ventured too much farther afield than it already had.
He hadn’t been wild about that bun her hair had been in—that was something he hadn’t liked.
Although the hair itself was a great color—rich mink-brown all shot through with russet red.
And her eyes were a fascinating color, too. Dark brown but with rays of glittering green all through them so that first he’d thought they were brown and then he’d wondered if they were green, before he’d finally sat across the kitchen table from her and been able to really figure it out.
Plus there were those legs of hers. Terrific legs.
Any woman in a skirt and nylons was a rare, bordering-on-nonexistent sight in Boonesbury. But even if it had been an everyday occurrence, her legs would have caught his attention. Long, shapely legs that made them a particular treat.
A treat that only started there. It continued all the way up a great little body that was just curvy enough to let him know she was a woman underneath that stuffy suit and high-collared blouse.
Oh, yeah, she was easy on the eyes.
And smart.
And she had a sense of humor, too—something he was really a sucker for in a woman….
Aiden mentally yanked himself up short when he again realized the direction his thoughts had wandered.
So much for thinking about what he didn’t like about her.
But even when he tried to come up with something else, he couldn’t. The bun was about it in the negatives column. And he had no doubt one swipe of a hairbrush would take care of that.
Which was probably why, even in spite of the mess with Mickey, he was looking forward to this next week more than he had been before he’d met Emmy Harris.
This isn’t a social event, he reminded himself.
This week was work. And that was the only way he should be thinking about it.
Besides, even if Emmy Harris had been there for some other reason, Aiden knew better than to let down his guard with a woman like her.
She might be more his type than Nora Finley, but he could tell the minute she’d stepped up to him at the airport that she was not the kind of person who could make a go of life in the Alaskan wilderness.
Emmy Harris might look pretty special, but he knew right off the bat that she wasn’t the kind of special to live where high fashion translated to anorak jackets, mukluks and thermal underwear. Where the only restaurant was also the gas station and the mayor’s office. Where there wasn’t a shopping mall within driving distance. Where a fair share of women—like Nora—considered cutting their nails with a gutting knife to be a manicure.
And if there was one thing Aiden already knew from painful experience it was that it was a losing battle to make any attempt to fit the round-peg kind of woman Emmy Harris was into the square hole of Boonesbury.
Oh, no, that wasn’t something he’d ever try again.
But even so, he thought as the sun began to make its first appearance through the open curtains of his bedroom window, he did have to admit that having the foundation’s beautiful director there with him for a little while would be a nice change of pace.
Of course it would have been a nicer change of pace if he didn’t have an abandoned baby and possible fatherhood looming over his head at the same time to distract him, but it was still a nice change of pace, anyway.
On the other hand, considering how intensely aware he’d been of every detail about Emmy just in the first few hours of knowing her, maybe having Mickey around as a buffer was a good thing.
Mickey made a noise just then that sounded different from the sucking noises, and Aiden rolled to his side again to check on him.
When he did he found the baby’s eyes open and his fist in his mouth.
Mickey left the fist where it was but looked up at Aiden with curiosity.
“Morning, little guy,” he said softly.
Mickey granted him a tentative smile from behind the fist.
“Ready to get up?” Aiden asked as if the infant would answer him.
Mickey grinned even bigger, as if that idea had thrilled him.
“Okay, but here’s what I’m thinking,” Aiden informed the baby. “I’ll get you cleaned up and fed, and then you’re going to have to pay me back by keeping things on the up and up while Ms. Emmy Harris is around. You can’t let me do anything stupid. What do you say?”
Mickey finally removed his fist from his mouth and blew a spit bubble for him.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
But Aiden was worried that Mickey had his work cut out for him.
Because as he got out of bed to pick up the baby he could feel the itch to see Emmy again, to hear her voice, to catch a whiff of her perfume.
An itch so strong he wasn’t sure how he was going to ignore it.
Even if the medical future of the whole county was riding on it.
For Emmy there was ordinarily nothing like a good night’s sleep to recharge her batteries and help her face the day.
But she had had nothing like a good night’s sleep. And when she woke up at five minutes after seven, she was aggravated with herself. Even if she was on a business trip, it was Sunday and there was no hurry getting to work. The least her body could have done was to have let her get some rest.
Although, it wasn’t actually her body at fault. Her body was supremely comfortable in the feather bed.
It was her mind that had kept her awake most of the night. Her mind that had kicked up again now.
She kept her eyes closed and took deep breaths, willing herself not to think about anything.
Just sleep, she told herself. Just sleep…
But her nose was so cold where it poked above the covers that she thought that might be keeping her awake.
Which meant she would have to get up, have her bare feet touch an undoubtedly frigid floor, expose herself completely to what her nose was suffering already and go all the way to the far corner of the room to turn on the space heater.
What exactly was it that people saw in rustic living? It was a mystery to her.
She sighed and resigned herself to having to leave her warm cocoon to get some heat in the place.
Flinging aside the electric blanket and quilt, she ran on tiptoes to the space heater to turn it on, then dived back under the covers again.
But that mad dash didn’t save her, and even after she was back in the warm bed a chill shook her whole body like a leaf in the wind.
How could any place in the twenty-first century—especially in Alaska—not have central heat, for crying out loud?
But once the chill had passed and the room was beginning to warm up, Emmy relaxed again and admitted that it was nice under that electric blanket and the weight of the quilt. She even began to wonder if maybe she’d be able to fall asleep again after all.
She closed her eyes and gave it a try.
Just sleep. Just sleep…
But would her stubborn brain give her a break?
Absolutely not.
It started spinning with the same thoughts that had kept her up most of the night—that it was a dirty trick Howard was playing on her to put all these obstacles in her way to test her on her very first trip for the foundation.
But he wasn’t going to get the best of her. The determination to pass the test was stronger this morning than it had been the night before.
She figured that she’d already overcome some of the obstacles: she’d gotten on that small plane rather than allowing fear to rule; she’d left Aiden Tarlington to contend with the baby rather than digging in as if it were her problem; and she’d made it through her first night in the attic room without heat.
So there, Howard!
Of course, she’d also spent the night tormented with vivid images of Aiden Tarlington and a strange longing to be back downstairs with him.
But that didn’t count as a failure of the test; keeping her from sleeping was not foundation business. It only counted as foundation business if she was distracted from her reason for being here. And while the much-too-attractive doctor had the potential to do just that, she was not going to let it happen.
Any more than she was going to let herself get sidetracked by the complications of the oh-so-cute baby who had come onto the scene last night.
Because although it might not be easy to keep her focus, she was going to do it. She really was. Howard was not going to win this one.
She’d fought for this job, and now that she had it, she was going to do it. She was going to do it better than anyone had ever done it before her—man or woman. And without a peep of complaint.
She just needed to wear blinders of a sort. She needed to block out the effects of Aiden Tarlington’s appeal, the draw of the adorable Mickey, and keep her eye on the ball.
And that was what she was going to do.
The little pep talk bolstered her confidence and she felt herself actually beginning to drift off to sleep again.
And if while she did, the picture of Aiden Tarlington came back into her mind and made something warm and fuzzy inside her stir to life?
Well, she wasn’t working at the moment, was she?
There may have been no hurry for Emmy to join Aiden for the tour of Boonesbury but, when the next time her eyes opened it was eleven o’clock, she bolted out of bed in a panic. What kind of impression did it make for the foundation’s director to sleep that late?
She rushed to the bathroom to take a shower but that was no quick thing. She had to deal with the peculiarities of a pitifully poor spray of water that literally ran hot one minute, cold the next, and never just warm enough to stand under.
She’d wanted to do something nice with her hair. Something nicer, more youthful and definitely more attractive than the bun. But that would have taken too long so she ended up leaving it to fall loosely around her shoulders.
And as for clothes, she could hardly dawdle when it came to deciding what to wear, and quickly chose a pair of black slacks and a long-sleeved, white, split-V-neck T-shirt. Then she applied blush and mascara—as fast as she did in her car on the way to her office when she’d slept through her alarm.
Yet it was still noon before she grabbed the black knee-length cardigan sweater she’d brought with her and bounded down the stairs to knock on Aiden’s door.
“It’s open. Come on in.”
A shiver that had nothing to do with the barely above-freezing temperature outside actually shook her at the sound of his voice through the closed door. Before she opened it she reminded herself how much she had riding on this trip and how much damage she could do to herself by allowing an unprofessional response to this man.
Besides, she’d already had her life scrambled by a nature boy, and she knew better than to get too close to another one. She and Aiden Tarlington were oil and water, and the two just didn’t mix.
Remember that, she ordered herself as she went inside.
“Hi,” he greeted, the moment she did.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with Mickey in the baby carrier in front of him so that he could feed the infant what looked to be applesauce.
Emmy returned his greeting and then debated about making an excuse for why she was putting in such a late appearance. But the fact that Aiden didn’t question her gave her the opportunity not to explain herself and so she didn’t.
“We’re just finishing up lunch here,” he informed her. “Help yourself to something to eat.”
Emmy was struck all over again by the lack of formality, but she went to the other side of the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee.
There were still a few sandwiches from the night before in the fridge and, in the interest of letting him think she’d been up for more than an hour, she chose one of those to bring back with her to the table rather than having the toast or cereal she would have preferred as her first meal of the day.
As Emmy joined Aiden and Mickey at the table, Aiden was intent on persuading the baby to accept another bite of food. Not being in the conversation left Emmy free to drink in the sight of the big man.
He had on blue jeans and a blue-plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows exposing the cuffs of a darker blue crew-neck T-shirt that also showed behind the open collar. He looked more like a lumberjack than a doctor but he was something to behold nevertheless.
“So I see Mickey is still here,” Emmy commented, when the infant took the spoonful of what was indeed applesauce.
“Still here,” Aiden confirmed.
“Mmm-hmm. And you’re still going with the story that he was just left here,” Emmy said, unable to suppress a knowing smile at what she was convinced was an elaborate ruse instigated by Howard.
“I’m still going with the story because it’s the only story there is.”
She decided to call his bluff. “If Mickey has really been abandoned shouldn’t you call the police or Child Protective Services or someone with the authority to do something about it?”
Aiden showed no sign of wavering. “That might be what I should do if I was somewhere else,” he explained smoothly. “But we don’t have anyone in Boonesbury to call. State police provide law enforcement on the rare occasions we need it, but since this isn’t an emergency it could be days or even weeks before they get around to sending someone. There’s a Social Services office in Fairbanks but I’d have to take Mickey to them.”
“That seems like what you should do, then,” Emmy said, still testing.
Until something else even more outlandish occurred to her.
“Unless he could be yours,” she said with a full measure of challenge in her tone.
But Aiden didn’t pick up the gauntlet she’d dropped. He didn’t raise his eyebrows at the very suggestion. He didn’t balk and defend himself in instant outrage.
Instead his slightly bushy eyebrows pulled into a frown that actually seemed unnerved by exactly that possibility.
“Could he be yours?” Emmy repeated in shock.
Again there was no quick denial.
In his own sweet time Aiden said, “I’m going to have to do some digging before I can answer that.”
Which obviously meant that there was a possibility Mickey might be his.
And for absolutely no reason Emmy could put her finger on, she felt a swell of something that seemed like jealousy. Although, of course that couldn’t have been what it was.
“Oh,” she said quietly, hating that she sounded so incredulous.
Aiden didn’t seem to notice, though. He was very serious now and he stopped feeding Mickey to level those incredible blue eyes on her. “I know it looks bad that there’s even the chance that I could have a baby I had no idea existed. You’re probably thinking it makes me an irresponsible jerk who shouldn’t be caring for Boonesbury’s citizens, let alone be the person who would oversee your grant money. But it isn’t like that.”
Actually she’d been too stunned to think anything. But she let silence pretend that was exactly what had been on her mind so he would go on.
Which was what he did.
“It’s a long, personal story,” he said. “But if Mickey is mine—and I’m not convinced that he is—but if he is, it was a matter of one night when I hit rock bottom and pickled myself in a bottle of scotch. Now that’s something I’d never done before and haven’t done since. But that night I ended up so out of it I don’t remember what happened. Until now I’d been sure nothing had, and that may still be the case. Mickey’s being left here could be something entirely separate from that night. From me. I just don’t know. But either way, I’ll have to find out what’s going on.”
Emmy stared at him. Intently. She searched his eyes, his handsome face. And she suddenly began to doubt that this was a test Howard had set up. This man was too uncomfortable admitting this to her, too embarrassed to have to admit it to her, for it not to be real.
“Did you call the woman who could be Mickey’s mother to ask if he’s yours?” Emmy inquired, maybe testing just a little more.
“The woman’s name is Nora Finley and I haven’t seen or heard from her since that night I thought I’d just given her a place to stay. She lives in a cabin a long way from anywhere and she doesn’t have a phone. She’ll have to be tracked down, and the best way to do that is to put out a message over the radio. There’s a station in Cochran—that’s the nearest town to Boonesbury. Their signal is strong so it gets picked up pretty far out. I called there and they’re going to report on Mickey on their newscast, requesting that anyone with any information about him contact me or the station, and they’ll be broadcasting regular messages from me to Nora, asking for Nora to contact me as soon as possible. That will all start tomorrow since they don’t air on Sunday.”
