Excuse Me? Whose Baby?: Excuse Me? Whose Baby? / Follow That Baby!

2

NORMALLY, Jim’s brain worked on multiple tracks like the quantum computer—which so far was only theoretical. He could solve so many problems simultaneously that his brain must be operating in various universes. In none of those universes, however, did Burt Page’s comments make any sense.

“What baby?” he asked. “If she went to India to adopt a child, what could that possibly have to do with either of us?”

“Ayoka isn’t adopted.” The lawyer’s Adam’s apple made a noteworthy trip up his throat. “She’s yours. Uh…both of yours.”

Dex’s face went white. She swayed in her chair.

Jim caught her arm to steady her. As he did, a strand of her scouring-pad mane brushed his cheek. It smelled like herbal shampoo, he noted in a daze.

The woman bore only a faint evolutionary resemblance to the type of ladies he usually dated, yet she aroused a powerful male response. Four months ago, she’d sent him spiraling out of control. Jim Bonderoff was a man who never lost control.

He’d luxuriated in her spontaneity and her ample curves. She didn’t fit the image of a wife and mother that he’d formed in his mind, yet he’d begun to think, for the first time in years, that perhaps he should stop trying to control every aspect of his life and simply trust his instincts.

Then she’d announced that she was leaving town and had declined to give any forwarding address. He’d been bitterly disappointed and had contemplated pursuing her to the ends of the earth.

A few days later, his common sense had reasserted itself. She was obviously the wrong woman for him, and both of them knew it. So he’d taken steps to make sure he would never lose control that way again.

Now, however, her warm presence penetrated all the layers of his consciousness. He ached to cup that pointed little chin and to touch her wiry hair, which straggled in all directions as if spread across a pillow. Not to mention what he’d like to do to those rosebud lips.

“Are you all right, Miss Fenton?” Burt leaned across his desk. “Perhaps I should summon a doctor.”

“I’m all right.” Dex wiggled out of Jim’s grasp. “And there’s no need to prop me up, either.”

“You were sagging,” he said.

“Wrong.”

“Swaying, then.”

“Catching my breath,” she snapped.

Jim wondered what had gotten into him. Hair spread across a pillow? Rosebud lips? Barbed wire and fangs were more like it.

“You were saying?” he prompted the lawyer.

“Dr. Saldivar gave birth to a daughter nine months ago,” Burt said. “She’s called Ayoka, which I understand is a Yoruban name meaning ‘one who causes joy all around.’ Annie for short.”

This was interesting, but pointless. “I still don’t see how she could be my child,” Jim said. “Dr. Saldivar and I never—” how was he going to phrase this diplomatically? “—strayed from the vertical.”

“But she did conduct some tests of a personal nature, isn’t that right?” Burt leveled him a man-to-man gaze. Having served in the Marines, Jim knew what it meant. This has to do with your manhood. It’s a guy thing. Don’t make me spell it out in front of the lady.

Jim made the connection. He hadn’t wanted to accept that this baby might actually be his but, when confronted, he could hardly deny it.

All of his adult life, he had considered fatherhood an impossible dream. After suffering a double attack of the mumps in adolescence, he’d feared he might be sterile.

Out of sympathy for others with similar problems, he’d begun donating money to fertility research.

About a year and a half ago, he’d mentioned the subject to Dr. Saldivar at the dedication of a new wing of the university’s fertility research center, which he’d funded. She’d offered to test his sperm discreetly.

A short time later, Jim had learned that he was potent enough to father a whole brood. His sperm, Helene had told him, practically leaped out of the test tube like little dolphins.

Apparently she’d kept a few of those dolphins for her own use. The realization hit him hard. He made an uncharacteristic choking sound. “I’m the father?”

Burt folded his hands on the desk. Instead of answering directly, he said, “As a young woman, Dr. Saldivar didn’t want children, so she had her tubes tied. As the years went by, however, she changed her mind, but the operation couldn’t be reversed. I suppose you might say that her biological alarm clock went off.”

“Okay, she needed a father for her baby and she chose me, without my consent,” Jim acknowledged. “But you said she had her tubes tied. If she couldn’t produce an egg, then who…”

He stopped. Inside the room, the silence coagulated. Outside, a car horn ayoogaed the Lone Ranger theme.

Even a man with a brain like a very old computer, or possibly a set of Tinkertoys, could get the picture. Jim looked at Dex. She picked at her fingernails, her gaze averted.

“That’s right,” Burt said. “Miss Fenton is the mother. Biologically speaking.”

Dex stopped shredding her manicure and addressed the lawyer. “I never authorized such a thing. We’ll put her up for adoption, of course. That was why I donated my eggs, to give some loving parents a much-wanted baby.”

Give her up? Until this moment, Jim had been oblivious to the fact that he had a daughter, but he knew immediately that he wasn’t going to let strangers raise her.

He’d wanted a child for years. Not, admittedly, out of wedlock, and certainly not with Dex Fenton. But fate, in the form of Helene Saldivar, had taken matters out of his hands.

“Don’t you even want to meet her?” Burt was saying.

“No,” said Dex.

Jim felt a sneaking sense of regret that this fireball didn’t care about her own baby, but perhaps it was for the best. “I’ll take her. Sight unseen. If I have a daughter, I’ll accept full responsibility.”

“What do you know about raising a child?” Dex demanded. “Can you change a diaper? Do you know anything about burping a baby?”

“I can learn,” he said.

Burt raised both hands in a paternalistic gesture. “Perhaps it would help if you met Annie. She’s with her nanny in the other room.”

Jim remembered hearing a baby cry earlier. Now he couldn’t wait to meet her. “Absolutely! And she’s going home with me. I’ll change a diaper right here on your desk if I have to.”

The attorney’s nostrils flared. “That won’t be necessary. Miss Smithers! You can come in now!”

DEX FOUGHT against showing the slightest weakness. The last thing she needed was to get dizzy and have Jim grab her again. It wasn’t fair that a mere mortal could light fires with his fingertips.

She didn’t want him to touch her, and she didn’t want to see this baby. If she did, Dex might make a decision that would be catastrophic for the little girl.

Every child deserved a loving home with parents who were capable of nurturing her with laughter and tenderness. No decent mother would condemn Annie to life with an arrogant playboy posing as a father. Nor would she take the baby herself, when she knew that inside her hot-tempered exterior lay a heart of ice.

Dex had been raised by parents who didn’t know how to love, only how to approve or disapprove. Often she heard their voices in her mind critiquing her every action, and in her own tone when she corrected a student. She would never inflict such a parent on an innocent baby.

An honest person didn’t shrink from admitting her shortcomings. What Dex wanted most, the loving family she’d never known, was beyond her ability to create. But she was capable of a selfless act. She would save Annie from a similar fate.

She steeled herself as a rake-thin woman entered the office, pushing a stroller. Strapped inside, with hair frizzing into a halo and a plump body wiggling to get free, was…Dex.

A tiny Dex. A nine-month-old Dex, all set to make the same mistakes as she blundered through life, to quail before the same unkind children who teased her about her adolescent chubbiness, to be scorned by the same self-centered teenage boys and to cry herself to sleep at night.

Annie needed a home with parents who could shield and support her. She deserved to grow up happier and with a greater capacity for love than the mother she resembled down to the smallest spiral of her DNA.

“It’s amazing.” Leaping from his chair, Jim went to crouch beside his daughter. “She looks exactly like me.”

“Like you?” Dex couldn’t believe it. “Since when do you have curly hair?”

“Oh, that.” He shrugged off the comment. “Haven’t you noticed her eyes? They’re mine. You can’t miss it!” Unstrapping Annie, he lifted her to his shoulder.

Silently, Dex conceded the point. The baby did have piercing brown eyes like his, not her blue ones. Still, it was a small resemblance.

Entranced at rising to such heights, the baby giggled and waved her arms. Nonsense syllables bubbled up. “Ga ga da da ba ba.”

“Did you hear that?” Jim demanded. “She said Dada!”

“You’re fantasizing,” Dex countered.

“I suggest the two of you come to some agreement between yourselves,” Burt said from behind his desk. “In her will, Dr. Saldivar explained the baby’s genesis and recommended that you receive joint custody since she has no close relatives. I suppose you could battle this out in court, but I doubt that would be in the best interests of the baby.”

Nor of Dex’s pocketbook, either. In fact, the battle would be lost before it began, since the best legal representation she could afford would be a student from De Lune University’s law school.

Last year, the campus legal aid center had handled a disputed family case in which, if she recalled correctly, the father ended up with custody of his mother-in-law and the judge took home the baby. Or, at least, that’s the way it had sounded in the campus newspaper.

“There’s no question about it. I’ll take charge from here.” Jim turned to the nanny. “Miss Smithers, I’d like you to work for me.”

“That can be arranged.” The nanny frowned at the baby in Jim’s arms and whipped out a comb. “Just a minute, sir.” Standing on tiptoe, she dragged the comb through the baby’s crinkled hair. It stuck after two inches.

“Naturally, I’ll match your salary,” he said. “You’ll get the same benefits and retirement plan as my other employees.”

“Dr. Saldivar’s salary would not be adequate. I’m well aware of who you are, sir.” Without waiting for his reply, the nanny produced a bottle marked Curl Relaxer and spritzed it over Annie’s head. The baby let out a wail and clapped her hands to her scalp. “No, no, no!” Miss Smither’s scolded. Pushing the tiny hands away, the nanny yanked the comb through the locks. “She’s lost her headband again. I think she must eat them.”

“Was Dr. Saldivar underpaying you?” Adjusting his grip on Annie, Jim wiped a blob of curl relaxer from his cheek.

“Dr. Saldivar had to make do on a researcher’s income. You don’t,” the woman responded tightly, and from her purse produced a plastic headband with gripper teeth. “Now hold still, Ayoka.” She clamped the thing across the baby’s temples and scraped back the hair. Tears welled in the little girl’s eyes.

“I’m willing to raise your salary if you’re being underpaid,” Jim said. “But only if you’re being underpaid.”

Dex couldn’t stand it any longer, not when tears were rolling down the baby’s cheeks. “Don’t you touch her!” she yelled at Miss Smithers. “You horrible woman, can’t you see that headband is hurting her?” Racing across the room, she removed the plastic band from Annie’s head and shoved it into the nanny’s grasp.

“I won’t have a child in my charge going around with messy hair.” The nanny looked down her nose at Dex’s own frothy mane.

Jim stared in surprise at the tears on his daughter’s cheeks and at the viselike headband. “I didn’t even notice,” he said.

“Of course you didn’t!” Dex retorted. “You’re not a father any more than I’m a mother. And neither is this poor excuse for a nanny. The child needs a real family.”

“I can learn,” the millionaire said quietly. “As for Miss Smithers, she and I have been unable to arrive at a mutually agreed-upon salary, so her services won’t be needed.”

“Cheapskate,” muttered the woman. After collecting her spray bottle from a polished table, where it left a moisture ring, she marched out of the room.

Squirming to watch her departure, Annie slid lower in Jim’s grasp. Her left shoe dropped to the floor, and a strap on her yellow sundress fell across one pudgy upper arm. In another minute, her outfit—which was much too flouncy and fussy, in Dex’s opinion—was likely to fall off entirely.

“Here, I’ll take her.” Without waiting for permission, she slid her hands under the little girl’s arms and transferred the baby to her own shoulder. Annie nestled there contentedly. “For the record, I like your hair, babycakes.”

Jim smiled. “I have to admit, she does resemble you a little.” He didn’t seem to notice the wet spot the baby’s mouth had left on his zillion-dollar suit.

“Resemble me?” Dex wanted to chew him out, but it was hard to stay angry when she held this cooing bundle in her arms. “She is me.” To the lawyer, she said, “A person is entitled to custody of herself, isn’t she? Well, look at us.”

“She’s half you,” Jim conceded. “And half me, Dex. You’ve already said you don’t want her.”

“I want what’s best for her. A good home, not a cold mansion the size of a hotel.” The campus had buzzed with descriptions of Jim’s hilltop residence since he hosted a scholarship fund-raiser last fall.

“Maybe you think she belongs in your apartment?” he replied. “A single room over a garage with clothes strewn everywhere and nothing but tofu in the refrigerator?”

“I wasn’t aware you two were previously acquainted,” Burt said.

Jim halted with his mouth open, then closed it quickly. Dex could feel herself blushing.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. She and this man had once made wild, earthshaking love—five months after the birth of their daughter. That had to be a first.

Not one that she cared to discuss with this lawyer, however. “We’ve met,” she said.

“I have a compromise to propose.” Jim held out a finger to Annie, who grasped it and took a tentative, tooth-free bite. “You don’t believe I can be a good single parent. Okay, I’ll prove it to you.”

“How?” Dex didn’t want to compromise, but she was in no position to dictate terms.

“Move in with me for a few days,” the man said. “I’ll take Annie on a trial basis, and you can watch to make sure I provide a proper home.”

“If you’d like to hire another nanny, there’s a registry in the area,” Burt said.

“I’ll have my secretary contact them,” Jim said. “In the meantime, my butler and my maid can fill in when I’m not available. And Miss Fenton can help, too, if she wishes.”

“I don’t see how you’re going to prove you can make a home for her.” Dex’s arms tightened around Annie. “Your butler and your maid will help out? And then you’ll leave her to a hired nanny? It’s just not acceptable.”

Not to mention that she had no desire to put herself in the middle of this man’s life. She had her own life, modest as it might be. And her privacy. And her sanity.

“The situation is only temporary,” Jim responded. “I expect to be married soon.”

Dex went hot and cold, then hot again. He was going to be married? Surely he didn’t mean to her! But if not, then to whom?

“Congratulations,” Burt said. “The way people gossip around Clair De Lune, I’m surprised I hadn’t heard the news.”

“I like to play my cards close to my chest,” Jim said.

“When did this happen?” Dex demanded, and only the presence of the lawyer restrained her from pointing out that, as recently as the Christmas party, Jim had been fancy-free.

“Nothing has happened, exactly.” He folded his arms with an air of confidence. “I’ve had an informal understanding for years with my high-school sweetheart. She’s a psychology researcher in Washington, D.C. Three months ago, I popped the question. She hasn’t given me an acceptance, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Dex did some mental arithmetic. That was only a month after they’d spent the night together. Why had he suddenly decided to propose to this long-distance amour?

It was true that Dex had given him the brush-off when he asked to see her again. That didn’t excuse his rushing to propose to someone else.

“Just because you might or might not be engaged has no bearing on custody,” she said. “Annie needs parenting now, not whenever your fiancée gets around to giving you an answer.”

Jim’s dark eyes probed hers. She felt, as she had at the Christmas party, the intensity of his will. “I think we should hold this discussion over lunch,” he said. “In private.”

Burt glanced at his watch. “Good idea. I don’t mean to hurry you, but I have another client arriving in a few minutes. By the way, I can have Ayoka’s furnishings and clothes delivered to your house this afternoon if you like, Jim.”

“That would be fine. Dex?”

She hated the sense of being herded like a wandering sheep. Also, she wasn’t crazy about the prospect of spending time alone with Jim Bonderoff, even if it involved free food.

But she had a responsibility to make sure Annie found a proper family. Dex lifted her chin defiantly. “Sure,” she said. “I’d be happy to talk.”

3

JIM ALMOST WISHED he’d brought his European sedan instead of his sports car. It was hard fitting Annie’s car seat into the back, and a real challenge wedging and strapping the stroller and Dex’s bike half in and half out of the trunk.

Nevertheless, once he got into the driver’s seat, he enjoyed squeezing his long legs against Dex’s soft warmth. There were advantages to being cramped.

He chose not to question his physical response to her too closely. That night of the faculty party, he’d blamed it on a few too many drinks. Today, he ascribed his reaction to that delirious spring fever known locally as Clair De Lunacy.

All this had nothing to do with Nancy Verano, his soon-to-be fiancée. She was a special case, apart from day-to-day reality.

“So,” he said as he whipped out of the parking garage into a break in traffic, “what was that business about you going away? When you told me that, I got the idea you were moving. Otherwise I’d have called.”

“I meant I was going away for Christmas vacation.” She squirmed as far to the right as possible. His knee still grazed her thigh, and he didn’t bother to move it.

“You’re sure you weren’t trying to get rid of me?” he persisted.

“Would you be angry if the answer’s yes?”

“Not angry,” he answered. “Puzzled.”

They flared through a yellow light and picked up speed, heading toward the town’s outskirts. The wind coming through the window made Dex’s mane dance around her head like a living thing. “Puzzled as to why I didn’t utterly succumb to your charms?”

“Actually, you did,” Jim reminded her.

“It was the eggnog,” she said. “President Martin made it himself. He loads it with booze.”

Jim had made the same excuse to himself, but hearing it from Dex bothered him. Not that his ego was bruised by the possibility that a woman might embrace him while drunk and reject him when sober.

Still, he’d experienced blissful sexual abandon with this woman, and all indications had been that she’d felt the same way. So why didn’t she want a rematch?

“It wasn’t necessary to make excuses,” he said. “I can take no for an answer.”

She frowned. “I don’t know why I misled you. It’s just that you’re not my type.”

She wasn’t his type, either. At least, he hadn’t thought so until he got to know her.

For someone so small, Dex had a luscious body, full-breasted and slim-waisted. Jim recalled one particular position, when he’d lain on the floor while she lowered herself onto him. They’d both cried out in pure agonized pleasure.

“We certainly fit together well enough,” he said.

“I’m not like the women you usually date,” she said.

They roared through the arching wrought-iron gates of Villa Bonderoff. “How would you know?”

“I’ve seen your picture in the paper at society goings-on,” said the unwitting mother of his child. “Your dates are always tall and skinny.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Jim tried to picture Nancy. His former high-school sweetheart was taller than Dex, definitely, and he didn’t think her breasts were as big, although they’d never gone far enough for him to find out for sure.

He couldn’t see her very clearly in his mind. It was odd, since they’d known each other for twenty years.

The driveway swooped uphill, winding between low trees. Although he’d built the house four years ago, Jim never lost his awe at veering around a corner and catching sight of the white Mediterranean-style swirl of rooms and balconies.

“Wow.” The syllable burst from Dex, followed by the dry comment, “Not exactly cozy.”

“Annie will have plenty of space and lots of toys.” He swung to the right, bypassing the front guest-parking bay. “The best schools and camps, and a horse if she wants one.”

“Is that what you think makes a kid happy? Possessions?” Dex demanded.

“I realize we have different lifestyles.” Jim chose not to harp on the shabby state of her apartment. “But wealth doesn’t preclude love, you know.”

She sat in silence as the car turned into a side driveway that led to the six garages. The butler had left the station wagon outside in one of the striped parking spaces, and Jim slotted the sports car next to it.

He wondered if Dex’s reticence meant he’d scored a point. He hoped so, because he wanted this child more than he’d ever wanted anything, and that was saying a lot.

Annie bubbled with glee as he got out and lifted her from the car seat. Those big brown peepers of hers darted from his face to Dex’s, and then across the sweep of pink bougainvillea tumbling over a retaining wall.

“I called ahead to have my butler fix lunch,” he told Dex as she joined him and Annie on the pavement. “He promised he’d send someone out for formula and baby food.”