Found: One Secret Baby (5 page)

“What if you were the one who sued for the custody of Charlie’s son?” she asked.

“Me? Why would a judge be any more likely to give me custody than you?”

“Not you—you and Felicity.” She gave him a smug look and took another sip of soup. “You’ve always been friends, and she needs a husband.”

He swallowed a laugh. Felicity wasn’t in the market for a husband. Never would be. But she kept that part of her life secret from her mother, and her mother’s friends.

“Can you picture Felicity chasing around after a child?” he asked.

“No, but you’re rich enough to hire someone to chase after him for her, just the way I would. That way I could see my grandson whenever I want.”

Which wouldn’t be very often, Morgan suspected, once she was reminded of what small children were like.

“Why would Felicity go along with such a crazy plan?”

“You’re handsome, rich, and have quite a reputation as a ladies’ man, if you know what I mean. Her mother is one of my best friends. Who could be more suitable for Felicity to marry?”

“Someone she loved?” Morgan ventured.

“Love and marriage are two different things.”

“You didn’t love my father?”

Lillian gave an artful sniff.

“Of course I did. But it also made good practical sense for me and your father to get married and put a stop to all the gossip about our divorces. And it makes good practical sense for you and Felicity to get married now so I can be near my grandchild.”

Morgan shook his head. He shouldn’t have mentioned Lillian’s relationship with his father, but her attitude still rankled.

And continued to rankle throughout dinner as she recited all the advantages, mainly for her, if he married Felicity and adopted Charlie’s kid.

Finally he’d had enough. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have to skip dessert. I’ve got a huge backlog of work.”

“Can’t you stay a little longer? We could talk about your wedding.”

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. “There is not going to be a wedding. I am not marrying Felicity to get custody of Charlie’s son. Is that clear?”

“You could stay and tell me more about my grandson.”

“I only saw him for a few minutes, so I don’t know much. He’s a cute kid. He’s learning to talk. He loves his mother.”

“She’s not his mother, and she’s never going to be. I’m his grandmother, so I have some say in who raises the poor child. He’d learn to love Felicity, too, I’m sure.”

Anger pushed him to his feet.

“That’s not going to happen, Lillian. And I’d like to keep Felicity as a friend, so I don’t want you to even mention your crazy idea to her—or her mother. Got that?”

Lillian heaved a dramatic sigh. “Well, if you’re determined to be selfish …”

“I’m determined to do what’s best for Charlie’s son.” He bent and dutifully kissed the suspiciously taunt skin of her proffered cheek. “Goodbye, Lillian.”

On the drive back to his penthouse condo near the Common, his stepmother’s voice echoed in his head. He wanted to do what was best for Joey, but neither Lillian nor Felicity was the answer. And Charlie’s father definitely wasn’t the answer. Which left Ms. Rosalie Walker.

Morgan shook the thought from his mind and refocused on the work he had to do tonight.

The next Saturday morning, Rosalie opened the front door, Joey on her hip, expecting the babysitter. When she found Morgan on her porch instead, an inexplicable bolt of joy left her speechless.

Her soaring heart did an immediate nosedive. Had he come to take Joey away? The lawyer in her knew he couldn’t do that, but the mother in her still went cold.

Luckily, she recovered her sanity before he could worm his way into her house the way he had the last time.

“Why are you here? I’m expecting an important business call and …”

As if on cue, the cell in her jeans pocket chimed Beethoven. She groaned and set Joey on the tiled floor of the entry hall. Without taking her eyes off their unexpected visitor, she opened her phone.

“Good morning, Congresswoman Barnes. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me on the weekend. Could you hold for a moment, please?”

She clicked the mute button and looked wildly around for Joey, who had waddled off toward the kitchen. Where was Jill? The teenager had promised to watch him while Rosalie took the business call.

Rosalie chased Joey down and dumped him in his playpen. By the time he was safely corralled, Morgan stood inside the front door, both cats weaving around his legs.

She was stuck. Her client’s whole future rested on this phone call. She pushed open one of the living-room windows and waved an arm at Morgan.

“You, out.”

When he didn’t move, she marched up to him, put her hand on his chest, pushed him back out the front door.

“You, in,” she told the cats when they tried to follow him.

Then she came out on the porch, too, and shut the door. As she pulled the cell out of her pocket, she positioned herself so her body blocked the door and she had a clear view of where Joey sat in his playpen chewing on his favorite teddy bear’s already-battered ear. With luck, Morgan would get the message and leave.

“Hello, Congresswoman,” she said again. “Sorry for the delay. About that private immigration bill for my client …”

Morgan tuned out the obviously confidential conversation and scowled down at Rosalie, almost unrecognizable in a sleeveless t-shirt and jeans, her hair haphazardly pulled back.

If she thought he’d leave because she had an important phone call, she had another think coming. He had to do what he’d come here to do and get back to Boston this evening so he could put in a full day at the office tomorrow.

A muted thump drew his attention to the window. The stuffed bear the kid had been holding a moment before was now on the floor a couple of feet from the playpen.

Thump! Bump! A red-and-blue rubber ball followed, bounced twice and landed on the sofa. Then came a square book with thick pages and brightly colored drawings. Thump!

He made the mistake of making eye-contact with the kid, who opened his mouth and began to howl.

Rosalie threw Morgan a harsh glance, then looked past him to the crying child inside. Her frown deepened.

“I’m sorry, Congresswoman. I was distracted for a moment. Could you say that again, please?”

Even a moment of Rosalie’s attention had ramped the kid’s protest up another notch. Tears ran down his face, which was turning from red to purple.

Rosalie waved her hand at the screaming child, but that only made things worse. The boy’s cries began to irritate, plucking every auditory nerve, until Morgan thought his head might explode.

Rosalie gave every sign of being as distressed by the child’s crying as he was, but from her frown and the few words he’d caught of the conversation, she was explaining something to the Congresswoman that was of vital importance to Rosalie’s client.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He gently took her by both arms and moved her out of the way, ignoring the sizzle her bare skin sent through his system.

The panicky expression on her face made him wonder if she thought he would steal the kid right from under her nose. He shook his head and flung one hand toward the screaming child.

Her body sagged. She didn’t try to stop him, but when he walked inside she moved nearer to the window so she could keep a close eye on things.

“An unusual and very deserving case, yes, Congresswoman,” she said into the cell.

As soon as Morgan stepped down from the foyer into the living room, the kid stopped crying. He sniffled once and looked up at Morgan.

He and Charlie’s son stared each other. The kid wore pull-up jeans, tiny sneakers, and a white t-shirt with little blue soccer balls on it.

Morgan braced himself for another explosion, but the boy held up his arms. “Out.”

Morgan shook his head.

“I don’t think that would be a wise move. You’re more familiar with the layout of this place than I am, and amazingly fast on those little legs of yours.”

The kid blinked twice and repeated, “Out.”

Time for another tactic. “No.”

That got the message through. The kid frowned, gave a little bounce, and said in a louder voice, “Out.”

“No.”

Morgan sat down on the sofa. Might as well be comfortable while the impending disaster ran its course.

But the kid shifted tactics, too. He reached both hands toward Morgan. “Up?”

Except for his tear-stained face, the boy seemed clean enough, but Morgan sensed a sticky veneer. He wished he had on something more easily cleaned than the two-thousand-dollar suit he’d worn to intimidate Ms. Walker. Especially since that hadn’t worked very well.

He glanced to where Rosalie was still talking on the cell, her eyes fixed on the kid.

“No,” he said again.

Joey lowered his arms and put one thumb in his mouth while he gave Morgan a considering look. Finally the kid pulled the thumb out far enough to say, “Goey.”

Near-panic set in. Was that some kind of toilet-training talk?

When he didn’t respond, the kid touched his chest, and repeated, “Goey”.

“Joey?”

The kid grinned at him. Charlie’s grin, but also Lillian’s, when she was pleased enough with something to let her guard down.

“Morgan,” he replied, pointing to himself.

“Mawg.”

“Close enough for a kid who’s just a few months over one.”

Joey continued to beam at him. “Out.”

“That would still be a no.”

Again the outstretched arms. “Up?”

“Okay, we’ll give that one a try.”

Morgan stood and picked Joey up. He did indeed have sticky hands. Sticky hands that left shiny marks on Morgan’s pristine white-silk shirt when he held the kid too close and the boy pushed away.

Sticky or not, the kid smelled sweet and milky. The urge to hold him closer again was strong, but Joey apparently wanted enough distance to be able to see this strange man’s face.

The cats had appeared the minute he’d bent to pick up Joey and now sat on each side of him, outwardly unconcerned with the humans around them, but clearly on guard once again.

“Okay, you’re up. Now what?” Morgan asked the mini-despot.

Joey tilted his head to one side, as if considering his options. “Tans.”

Morgan made a show of scanning the toy-strewn floor of the living room. “I see lots of stuff here, but no tanning booths. And it’s too cloudy outside for sun bathing. Sorry.”

“Tans.” Joey bounced up and down on Morgan’s arm. “Sick. Tans.” He reached those sticky hands up and patted Morgan’s ears. “Sick. Sick.”

“Music? Dance?”

“Tans!” Joey clapped his hands and bounced harder.

“Oookay. Don’t suppose you know where the remote for the sound system is.”

“Sick. Tans.”

“I’m working on it. Boy, this learning-to-talk thing is a bitch, isn’t it?” Morgan muttered as he searched the room for some kind of remote.

“Bitch,” Joey echoed perfectly.

Morgan groaned.

The remote was on the mantle over the empty fireplace, well out of reach of little hands. He shifted Joey to one hip—not as easy for him as for Rosalie—and held the remote away from the kid while he examined the controls. Finally he found what he hoped was the right button.

A wild dancing rhythm burst out of speakers on the shelves of the built-in bookcases on each side of the front window. Something familiar, yet …

“Tans!” Joey insisted, bouncing so much that Morgan had to set the remote back on the mantle and grab him with both arms.

Morgan took a couple of shuffling steps back and forth.

“More!”

Morgan broke into what he remembered of a waltz, although the music was much too fast and didn’t have the right beat. Then he recognized it. The last movement of Brahms’ double concerto. Who would have thought?

Now he knew where the music was headed, he matched his step to the rhythm, much to Joey’s delight. They made two circuits of the living room before the music reached its climax.

The joy and trust on the Joey’s face as they spun in one last circle stopped Morgan’s heart. He’d once been that innocent, that trusting too. And so had Charlie.

In that instant he knew. He could never let Lillian, much less Charlie’s father, get their hands on this kid. He had to find a way to keep Joey safe and happy.

When the music stopped, Joey crowed and laughed, clapping his hands. Someone else clapped too.

Morgan cringed and looked toward the front hall. Luckily, their appreciative audience wasn’t Rosalie, who had turned her back to hunch over her cell on the porch, but a skinny teenaged girl with bright-red braids

“Jill!” Joey called to her.

“Hey, Jojo, who’s your hot friend?”

Morgan felt a flush creep up his face. This child thought he was hot?

He set Joey back in the playpen, grabbed the remote, and clicked off the sound system.

“You’re late.” He wished he’d used a softer tone when she lifted her eyebrows and stared at him.

“I just got home from soccer practice. The coach made us do extra laps ‘cause some of the girls were talking instead of running the drills.” The girl went over and lifted Joey out of the playpen. “Who’s the hunk, kid?”

Before Morgan could explain, Rosalie came back in from the porch. Under the harried expression on her face he saw a trace of satisfaction. Her phone call must have been a success.

The red-haired girl bounced Joey and asked Rosalie, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to the new boyfriend?”

“He’s not …”

“I’m not …”

They’d started and stopped at the same moment.

The girl raised her eyebrows again and glanced from one of them to the other. Rosalie’s face had gone pink, which for some reason made Morgan smile.

“Whatever.” The girl handed the kid to Rosalie. “I don’t suppose you’re still going to pay me?”

Rosalie pulled a five-dollar bill out of her pocket. “You did your best. This should cover the new download you were talking about the other day.”

“And then some. Thanks. I owe you. Good luck with the hottie. I think he’s a keeper. He even danced with Jojo.”

Rosalie gave Morgan a look that made him flush again. The girl laughed, kissed the top of Joey’s head, and went out the front door.

“Obviously you need better child-care arrangements for the weekends,” Morgan commented as he straightened his crumpled shirt and tightened his tie.

“Obviously you need to mind your own business. What are you doing here, anyway?”

Before he could answer, the babysitter stuck her head back in the door.

“By the way, what’s that monstrosity in the SUV parked out front?”

“Monstrosity?” Rosalie asked.

The girl shrugged. “It’s one of our vocab words this week. And that thing out there is ug-lee.”

Rosalie couldn’t tell if Morgan’s face was red from anger or embarrassment.

“It’s a gift for the kid from Lillian,” he explained.

“Who’s …” Jill began, but Rosalie silenced her with a glare. “Okay, I’m out of here.”

The slam of the door behind her rang through the open beams of the Spanish-style living room. Rosalie took a deep breath and turned back toward her unwelcome guest.

“Why are you here?” Her heart pounded so hard she was surprised it didn’t echo off the beams, too.

Joey squirmed in her arms, so she set him back in the playpen, where he plopped down and began emitting unmistakable noises from the wrong end.

Morgan gave Joey an uncomfortable look before he responded. “Perhaps if we sat down?”

She sighed, shooed the cats off the couch and sat at the end nearest Joey. Morgan took two steps toward the broken armchair, then made a mid-course correction and sat at the other end of the couch. He produced a small white plastic bag from his pocket.

“I came to get a swab from the kid so we can do a DNA test.”

Rosalie frowned. “They already took one at his doctor’s office and sent it to the adoption agency.”

“I know. This is a private test to make sure the previous one is valid.”

His pompous tone made her straighten up from the slump caused by the elderly couch.

“Valid? How could it not be valid?”

“There are ways to cheat on DNA tests.”

She frowned. “How?”

“Since we don’t have any DNA from the child’s mother, you could have sent in any male DNA and there’d be no way for anyone to tell.”

“You mean you think I’d cheat on something like that? What kind of world do you live in, Mr. Danby?”

“A world where you’ve already lied to me about whether Joey even existed or not. Is it that big a step to cheating in order to keep his grandmother from making a legitimate claim for him?”

Shame twisted through Rosalie’s belly. “I see. And Joey’s grandmother sent you all the way from Boston on the off-chance I’d figured out how to beat the system on this?”

“I’m in town on business.”

His words reminded her of the night of her mother’s opening and the magic that had blossomed between them. She stifled a sigh.

“You seem to be here a lot.”

“Danby Holding Company is in the process of acquiring an L.A. start-up.”

Now he sounded like a business news soundbite.

“How nice for you. How many millions do you intend to cheat the current owners out of? Or is it billions these days?”

“I’m not here to discuss the integrity of my company’s business practices.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re here to question my integrity.”

For a minute Morgan’s cool look was replaced with the heat of genuine anger, but before Rosalie could react, the mask of polite indifference was firmly back in place.

“If we could get on with this, Ms. Walker.” He opened the sealed plastic bag and took out two swabs.

“Not one of those immediate-results things, is it?”

“No. It’s the same lab test your doctor used. Less room for error. I’ll probably need your help opening the boy’s mouth.”

“Good guess. He bit the nurse who did it the last time. Twice.” She allowed herself a grin at the strained expression on Morgan’s face. “Wouldn’t you like me to change him first?”

Morgan had clearly forgotten the earlier telltale noises. “That might be a good idea.”

“Would you like to do it? More uncle practice.”

“Er, no.”

She grinned again and picked up Joey, who had been watching them solemnly and sucking on his hand.

“We’ll be a few minutes. Make yourself at home.” The words were more a reflex than an invitation, but she enjoyed the look of discomfort they brought to Morgan’s face.

Such a handsome face. She sighed as she carried her precious and smelly burden out of the room.

As soon as Morgan was alone again, the cats reappeared. The one he thought was Sylvester sniffed the toes of his shoes, then lay down across his feet. The spotted one, Smudge, leapt up beside him, climbed up again to touch the black spot on his nose to Morgan’s cheek, then spread himself across Morgan’s lap.

Morgan started to shoo it away, but a few more white cat hairs on his black suit wouldn’t make it all that much worse. Besides, the gentle rumble of the cat’s purr was strangely calming.

Which reminded him of how strangely calming it had been to hold Joey, and how the kid’s face had glowed with joy as they’d danced around the room.

Maybe Lillian had a point when she’d suggested he should be the one to have custody of Joey. He couldn’t marry Felicity, but his stepmother wouldn’t be aware of how much easier it was now for single people, even single men, to adopt a child.

Of course, he’d need to get a good nanny. One he could trust to put Joey’s well-being above everything else. He wouldn’t be able to travel as much on business. And it would put a severe crimp in his social life.

He was still mentally listing pros and cons when Rosalie and Joey reappeared. Red corduroy had replaced the kid’s jeans and Rosalie’s hair had come partway out of whatever she’d used to pull it back from her face. He stifled a sigh. Such a pretty face.

Rosalie’s breath caught at the sight of Morgan on her couch, her cats spread across his feet and lap, a relaxed look on his face that didn’t quite fit with his uptight businessman suit. A suit that would now be covered with white fur for the rest of the day.

The smile he gave Joey, however, set off alarm bells in her head.

This man was the enemy.

“Sorry about the cats,” she said. “Off the sofa, guys.”

When the cats left, Smudge in the lead, she sat on the couch, a wriggling Joey in her lap.

“Okay, kid.” Morgan’s gentle tone tugged at Rosalie’s heart a moment before it sent another cascade of alarm through her.

“Goey,” Joey repeated with a wary look at the stranger.

“Yeah, Joey. Open wide.”

Rosalie had to suppress a giggle when Joey clamped his mouth shut.

Morgan reached out and tickled under the boy’s chin.

“You can do better than that for me, can’t you, buddy?” When Joey only responded with a glare, Morgan turned to Rosalie. “A little help here?”

His air of command made her want to refuse, but what would be the point?

“Hey, big boy, how about you let your step-uncle here put two nasty swabs in your mouth and make it feel yucky?”

Morgan quirked an eyebrow at her choice of words. Luckily Joey responded to her tone of voice and smiled, but kept his mouth closed tight.

“Can you show your step-uncle how many teeth you have?”

The smile faded and Joey shook his head.

Morgan had moved closer. The heat of his body was so close to her bare arm that the musky scent of his undoubtedly expensive soap tickled her nose. Her heart beat faster. A half-forgotten warmth spread through her system. The magic of the moment when they had almost kissed reverberated through her.

Morgan’s voice broke through the momentary sensual haze. “Yeah, kid, show me your chompers. Betcha only have one tooth. Is that all the teeth you have?”

Leave it to a couple of males to make this a competition. But the little mouth stayed shut.

“If you open up for your step-uncle, I’ll take you to the park,” Rosalie tried.

Joey shot her an indignant look, as if to ask whose side she was on, and shook his head.

Morgan stretched out one long finger and tickled Joey’s tummy. The boy laughed, then gave his step-uncle a wide grin. Okay, so the man had a few good instincts with kids. Damn him.

“Okay, let’s count teeth,” Morgan said. “Open wider so I can get them all.”

Joey opened his mouth and let Morgan take two quick swabs inside his cheek under the pretense of slowly counting his teeth.

“Wow, that’s a lot of teeth for a kid your age, I bet.”

Morgan’s fake enthusiasm brought out all Rosalie’s maternal instincts. She had to protect Joey from Morgan’s, and his family’s, attempts to manipulate him.

But Joey saw right through the man. “No.”

Morgan frowned at the rebuke, then turned away to put the swabs back in the plastic bag.

To Rosalie’s shame, the loss of his heat near her body made her shiver. She pulled Joey a little closer while their guest took a pen from the breast pocket of his suit jacket, and filled in the information on the bag.

“When will you have the results?” she asked, for lack of any other way to fill the awkward silence.

“About the same time as the other test.”

All the warmth was gone from his voice. The all-business, arrogant jerk who’d walked into her office that first day was back. She could feel her hackles rise in response.

Joey whimpered at the sudden edge of ice in the air. Morgan’s face softened for a moment when he looked down at the child, then the aristocratic mask was back.

“Once Joey’s paternity is verified, you’ll hear from his grandmother’s lawyer.”

Rosalie’s heart was in her throat. “Asking for visitation rights?”

“For custody. As a blood relative, she believes her claim is stronger than yours, despite Ms. Mendelev’s will.”

“And you?”

“I have no interest in raising a child as a single parent.”

Her heart stopped. Never in her life had she heard the words “no interest” say so clearly that the man was very interested, indeed. Why else would he think that was the question she meant to ask him? She took a deep breath and her heart chugged back to life.

“Well, I do,” she told him. “I love Joey and he loves me. I’ll fight Charlie’s mother every step of the way on this.”

“That’s understood.”

She rolled her eyes at the cold formality of his tone. And she’d nearly let this high-class, heartless robot kiss her!

She stood, a now-drowsy Joey on one hip. “If that’s everything, Mr. Danby, it’s Joey’s naptime.”

“Nep,” Joey echoed.

Morgan stood too, his face slightly red again. “What about the gift Lillian sent?”

“The monstrosity?” Rosalie had forgotten. “Why did you leave it in the SUV?”

“I didn’t want the child over-excited before I was able to get the DNA sample.”

“Well, by all means, let’s get him over-excited now, right before his nap.”

Morgan straightened. “How was I supposed to know his schedule?”

At least he sounded like a human being now, even if a stuffy and slightly angry one.

“Why don’t you bring it in?”

Whatever she might have expected Morgan to bring in from the SUV a few minutes later, it wasn’t a four-foot-high purple stuffed elephant with a raised, two-foot-long trunk and huge protruding eyes. Joey took one look at the purple giant Morgan set by his playpen, screamed with fright, and burst into tears.

The glare Rosalie gave Morgan over the ugly stuffed animal’s back said more than any words could have about Lillian’s common sense as a grandparent, much less a parent.

Not that he didn’t agree.

He made no protest as Rosalie hustled Joey out of the room. The closing of a door cut off the last of Joey’s sobs, then music drifted down the hall. Mozart.

Morgan stood and wandered around the room. The cats were back. They sat side by side, watching him from the entry with wide yellow eyes.

He paused by the bookcases on each side of the front window. They held novels popular twenty years ago and stacks of art books, all of which obviously had belonged to Rosalie’s mother.

The whole house still belonged to Rosalie’s mother. He could see that now. She’d been the one to decorate it with floral patterns, and no doubt planted the array of flowers outside. Rosalie had left it untouched so that nothing in this room, this house told him anything about Rosalie herself. Perhaps her bedroom …