It would be a hell of a lot easier to psych himself into confronting an armed perp than to face delivering a baby….

Armed with a plastic drop cloth and a stack of worn-but-clean towels, Dan went back and prepared the couch the way Fay had told him to.

“Thanks,” she said. “If I hadn’t seen your light…” Her words trailed off and she began to take deep breaths.

“Another contraction?”

She nodded, and he knelt beside her, tentatively resting his hand on her abdomen. Through the flannel cloth, it felt rigid as a board. He checked the second hand of his watch. Before he could move his hand, something thrust against it, surprising him. Damned if the baby hadn’t kicked him. The realization made him smile. Feisty little thing. Dan decided the most reassuring thing he could do for Fay was to keep his mouth shut about how inexperienced he really was. Strange how people assumed cops delivered lots of babies.

“Um, Dan? It’s coming—”

And without hesitation, he sprang into action….

Dear Reader,

Well, if it’s true that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, you’re going to need some fabulous romantic reads to get you through the remaining cold winter nights. Might we suggest starting with a new miniseries by bestselling author Sherryl Woods? In Isn’t It Rich?, the first of three books in Ms. Wood’s new MILLION DOLLAR DESTINIES series, we meet Richard Carlton, one of three brothers given untold wealth from his aunt Destiny. But in pushing him toward beautiful—if klutzy—PR executive Melanie Hart, Aunt Destiny provides him with riches that even money can’t buy!

In Bluegrass Baby by Judy Duarte, the next installment in our MERLYN COUNTY MIDWIVES miniseries, a handsome but commitment-shy pediatrician shares a night of passion with a down-to-earth midwife. But what will he do when he learns there might be a baby on the way? Karen Rose Smith continues the LOGAN’S LEGACY miniseries with Take a Chance on Me, in which a sexy, single CEO finds the twin sister he never knew he had—and in the process is reunited with the only woman he ever loved. In Where You Least Expect It by Tori Carrington, a fugitive accused of a crime he didn’t commit decides to put down roots and dare to dream of the love, life and family he thought he’d never have. Arlene James wraps up her miniseries THE RICHEST GALS IN TEXAS with Tycoon Meets Texan! in which a handsome billionaire who can have any woman he wants sets his sights on a beautiful Texas heiress. She clearly doesn’t need his money, so whatever can she want with him? And when a police officer opens his door to a nine-months-pregnant stranger in the middle of a blizzard, he finds himself called on to provide both personal and professional services, in Detective Daddy by Jane Toombs.

So bundle up, and take heart—spring is coming! And so are six more sensational stories about love, life and family, coming next month from Silhouette Special Edition!

All the best,

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

Detective Daddy
Jane Toombs

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANE TOOMBS

lives most of the year on the shore of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula along with a man from her past and their crazy calico cat, Kinko. In the winter, though, they all defect to Florida for three months. In addition to writing, Jane enjoys knitting and gardening.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter One

Listening to the howl of the wind outside the hunting lodge in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, Dan Sorenson dropped another log onto the fire and poked it into place. A good night to be indoors, he thought. These storms usually lasted up to three days, switching back and forth from sleet to snow, until they finally petered out. Hell to try to drive in them or to venture out at all. Lucky he’d piled enough wood into the back shed before this particular April storm began.

He glanced around at the comfortable, if shabby, main room of what had been his grandfather’s, then his dad’s hunting lodge set in acres of wilderness. Its cedar logs had been carefully notched into place long ago by immigrant craftsmen from Finland; the place could stand up to whatever Mother Nature threw at it. Favoring his left leg, he crossed to a side window in a vain effort to peer into the darkness.

He checked the switch to the porch light, left in the up position and shook his head. He’d turned the light on, the same way his mother always had done in a storm.

“You never know who might have need of a light in bad weather,” she’d always said.

Certainly no one in this isolated area. But, somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to shut it off. He turned away, about to head back to the comfort of the Morris chair drawn up by the fireplace when he was startled by a noise.

Was someone at the door—on this miserable night in the middle of nowhere? Impossible. And yet he was almost sure he’d heard a sort of scrabbling sound, all but drowned by the wailing wind. Better check it out. He turned back toward the door, automatically reaching for his gun. Once a cop, always a cop, but, of course he wasn’t wearing his piece, he’d left it up in the loft. Didn’t need to keep it on him here in the wilderness, especially during a storm. He reached for the knob and pulled the door toward him.

Dan caught his breath. A woman covered from head to toe with snow stood swaying on the front porch. He reached out and hauled her into the lodge, shoving the door shut against the thrust of the wind.

“C-c-cold,” she whispered.

He guided her toward the fire, and took off her soaked coat. My God—the woman was pregnant! She hugged herself, shivering.

“S-so c-cold,” she repeated.

Dan convinced her to take off her sweater, but had to help, since her fingers shook so badly. He was concerned to find that the shirt she wore was also damp. So were her pants.

“You need a hot shower right away.”

She stared at him so blankly he was afraid she was in beginning hypothermia. “Come with me,” he said, taking her chilled hand and leading her into the bathroom.

“I’ll start the water,” he told her. When he released her hand, she stood where he’d left her, her face expressionless. He was about to tell her he’d get out of the room so she could peel off her wet clothes, but she didn’t seem to move.

“Are you able to get undressed without help?” he asked bluntly.

The woman didn’t answer.

He pushed out a frustrated breath. “Look,” he said, “my name is Dan, and I’m going to have to help you take that shower. Okay?”

He started the water, testing the temperature until it was good and warm, then he pulled her shirt over her head. She didn’t react so he turned his attention to the elastic-waist pants that were pulled over the huge bulge in her abdomen. He put down the lid of the toilet, eased her onto it, then removed her shoes, socks and the pants, leaving her in a pair of under-pants and a bra that seemed dry.

As he unhooked her bra, he realized just how cold her skin was to his touch. Half-frozen. Where the hell had she come from? He quickly took off her panties, then stood her up and urged her into the shower. Because he worried she might collapse, he stayed in the bathroom watching her as she stood under the running water.

When he judged the water had warmed her, he turned off the faucets, took her hand and led her out of the stall, drying her off with a towel, then wrapping another around her. He led her back into the main room by the fire then he ran up the stairs to his loft bedroom and rummaged through an old cedar chest to find something dry for her to wear. Flannel. Yes, that would do.

He put his grandfather’s old flannel pajama top on her, trying not to touch her full breasts as he buttoned it down the front. His grandfather had been a tall and heavy man so the top hung almost to her knees. After he rolled up the sleeves for her, Dan said, “I’ll sit you down so we can get on the pajama bottoms.”

To his surprise this produced a reaction. She shook her head.

“You’d be warmer with them on.”

Pain flickered across her face and she crossed her hands over her swollen abdomen. “It’s coming,” she said.

“It?”

“The baby.”

Dan swallowed. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

He stared at her, trying to come to terms with the realization that he was the only one she could depend on for help. No, wait, there was his doctor brother in Evergreen Bluff. He couldn’t get her there but he could call Bruce and ask him what the hell to do.

Leading her to the old couch that was angled to face the fire, he settled her there, saying, “Take it easy, okay?”

He strode to the wall phone. As he reached for it, the lights went out. He lifted the receiver to his ear and confirmed even more bad news. No dial tone. The phone line was down as well as the electric line and unfortunately, his cell phone didn’t work in this remote place.

“Don’t worry,” he said, as much to himself as to the woman. “I’ll light a couple of lanterns.”

With the light from the fire guiding him, he soon had two of the kerosene lamps lit. He placed one on the all-purpose table in the main room and set the other on an end table next to the couch. He could see her huddled over, hands clutching her abdomen.

“Hurts,” she said.

Damn. He knelt on the floor beside the couch, his mind scrambling to retrieve what he’d learned in the medic classes he’d taken when he first joined the Archer City Police Force. Childbirth had been briefly included.

“As I said before, I’m Dan,” he told her. “Dan Sorenson. Can you tell me your name?”

She looked directly at him, seeming to actually see him for the first time. “Fay. Fay Merriweather. Thanks for—” she fluttered her hands in the air “—taking me in and all.”

He smiled at her. “Hello, Fay. Now tell me, is this the date when you expected the baby to arrive?”

“No, it’s about two weeks early.”

Dan took care not to show his relief. At least the baby wouldn’t be one of those real tiny, fragile premature babies.

Dan culled his mind for other questions he was supposed to ask. “Fay, have you been under the care of a doctor?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “He didn’t want me to drive to Duluth. I should have listened.”

That made two of them who wished she had. Probably three, if he included her.

“You don’t happen to be a doctor, I suppose?” she added.

“Sorry, no. I’m a cop.”

“You must have delivered babies before then.” She sounded relieved.

He nodded, with no intention of telling her it had been once only, and that the baby had more or less arrived on his own. The ambulance had shown up quickly and swept mother and child off to the hospital, relieving Dan of all responsibility.

Fay moaned. “Here comes another contraction.”

“I think you ought to be lying down,” he said.

She didn’t reply for several moments, then straightened up, took a deep breath and said, “In my prenatal classes, they said to put plastic under you if you find you’re going to have an emergency delivery. Plastic and some old towels or something you can throw away after.”

He fervently wished it already was after. “And I’ll get a blanket while I’m at it.”

“An old one,” she called after him as he strode toward the storage cabinet in the back shed.

He was grateful she’d warmed up enough to be coherent, because he was going to need all the help he could get. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to psych himself into confronting an armed perp than to face delivering a baby.

Armed with a plastic drop cloth, and a stack of worn-but-clean towels, he went back and prepared the couch the way Fay had told him. He then returned to the loft and brought out an old quilt from the cedar chest. Back in the main room, he found Fay pacing slowly back and forth.

“Ready,” he told her. “You can stretch out.”

“Thanks. I know I’m supposed to keep active as much as possible as long as I can, but I really feel exhausted.” She settled onto the couch, arranging a throw pillow under her head, but leaving the quilt folded on the top of the couch back. Looking up at him, she said. “If I hadn’t seen your light…” Her words trailed off and she began to take deep breaths.

“Another contraction?”

She nodded, and he knelt beside her again, this time tentatively resting his hand on her abdomen. Through the cloth of the flannel top, it felt rigid as a board. He checked the second hand of his watch, watching until the rigidity subsided. Before he could remove his hand, something thrust against it, surprising him. Damned if the baby hadn’t kicked him. The realization made him smile. Feisty little thing.

Fay smiled faintly in return. “I guess you felt that kick.”

“Let me put the quilt over you.”

“The fire is keeping me nice and warm.” She turned her head to stare into the flames. “I love wood fires.”

He decided this might be the time to find a knife and some string, wipe them as clean as possible with alcohol and have them handy when the need arose. By the time he returned he’d made up his mind not to tell her that he’d do his best to make sure she and her baby would be okay.

The most reassuring thing he could do for her was to keep his mouth shut about how inexperienced he really was. The more confidence she felt about his ability, the less frightened she would be. Strange how people assumed cops delivered lots of babies.

“What happened out there? Lose your way in the storm?” he asked.

“When it got really bad, I must have taken a wrong turn.”

“That can happen. You’re a long way off the route to Duluth.”

“Then the car skidded and I hit a tree,” she said. “The airbag stunned me for a bit.” She crossed her hands over her abdomen. “At least the baby seems to be all right.”

“As long as she can kick she must be.”

Fay raised an eyebrow. “She?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know why I said that.”

“Most men would have said he. They all seem to want sons.”

Since Dan didn’t want a son or a daughter, raising children in today’s world being too chancy, he didn’t comment.

“Or else they don’t want either a boy or a girl.” Her words almost made him feel she was reading his mind, but the bitterness threading through them told him she wasn’t thinking of him at all.

“Your—” he began, then changed what he’d been about to say. Since a lot of mothers today were single parents, he wouldn’t ask about a husband. “The baby’s father?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.” Uncomfortable now, he decided to stop asking personal questions. “We’ll need something to put the baby in once she’s born.”

Fay smiled slightly. “She, again. I bought a baby bed, one of those you strap into a car, but that’s where it is—in the wrecked car along with other baby stuff. And mine, too.” She glanced at a window and shook her head. “You can’t possibly go out into that horrible storm. So we’ll need something temporary.”

His gaze fastened on the handcrafted wood-box his grandfather had made to hold his logs and kindling. He rose, strode to the fireplace and dumped the contents of the box onto the floor.

“Once I clean this up, we’ll have our temporary crib,” he said.

“Looks fine to me. Have you thought about diapers?”

Diapers? Naturally not. As far as he knew most babies wore disposable ones these days. Which didn’t help in the here and now. “I saw a stack of old flannel sheets in the cedar chest. I can line the wood-box with some, and I could cut up some for diapers and others for baby blankets.”

“Good idea.”

He handed her his watch so she could time her own contractions, while he went to fetch the sheets.

Coming back, he cleaned the wood-box carefully and lined it with a flannel sheet, using two more folded for a pad at the bottom. While he worked he kept glancing worriedly at Fay. Finished, he settled the padded box near the fireplace for the heat to warm it, trying to imagine a newborn baby nestling inside. He couldn’t.

Shaking his head, he brought the flannel sheets he meant to cut up back to where Fay lay on the couch, pulled a chair over and sat next to her. He started to ask her if she was okay, then noticed that, her face tense, she was timing a contraction. Finally she sighed and relaxed.

“How long did that one last?” he asked. When she told him, he realized the contractions were lasting a little longer each time.

For several minutes she watched him pile the pieces of cloth onto the coffee table he’d pushed aside. “I’m certainly inconveniencing you,” she said finally.

“Emergencies are what cops are for.” He reinforced his words with a smile. Poor kid, she needed all the reassurance he could dig up.

“I’m so glad—” she paused, wincing. “Another one. Really powerful.”

A minute or two later, she said, “Um, Dan?”

“What is it?”

“I didn’t have a partner for my birthing classes. If I tell you what to do, would you mind holding my hand and helping me breathe the right way?”

Between contractions, she explained his role. He edged the chair closer, took her hand in his and breathed with her. “You’re doing fine, Fay. We’ll get through this together.”

“Together,” she murmured and then moaned, caught up in a contraction he thought would never end.

“Come on, breathe with me,” he told her.

Damn. He figured that pretty soon he’d have to do more than put a hand on her abdomen and that scared the hell out of him. The baby’s head comes out first, he reminded himself. Normally face down. That’s when he was supposed to tell her to push. He thought he remembered the instructor saying to try not to let the baby pop out too fast because it might injure the mother. He gritted his teeth, unsure of how to prevent that. Tell her not to push?

When the contraction ended, he got up, hurried to the phone and lifted the receiver. Still dead. As it undoubtedly would be until the storm was over. He straightened his shoulders. Okay. It was up to him. He could do this. He’d never failed an assignment yet. He’d never had one this tough, though.

“You’re limping,” Fay said.

To think she’d noticed with as much strain as she was under. “My leg’s almost healed,” he said.

Her contractions came closer and closer together. “I think something’s leaking out,” she said after the last one. She’d already put her knees up, with her feet flat on the couch, legs spread apart.

“I feel like pushing.” She gritted the words out.

He didn’t want to keep the baby from coming out, but he placed his hand against the opening as she pushed.

Fay’s breathing came in gasping grunts now and he took his hand away and saw the baby’s head. He then caught the baby as it slid out.

But something wasn’t right. She wasn’t crying. Was she breathing? The instructor’s voice came back to him. “Hold the baby upside down, insert your little finger in its mouth and extract any mucus that might be blocking the baby’s airway.”

Holding his breath, he followed through. A glob of mucus dribbled from the baby’s mouth, she coughed, then emitted a tiny wail. A moment later she was howling full throttle. He expelled his breath in a great sigh of relief.

“She’s a girl,” he told Fay as he laid the baby on her abdomen.

Fay raised her head to look at her daughter and smiled. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“She sure is,” he answered absently, alarmed anew at the amount of blood soaking the towels.

“Is it all over?” Fay asked after a minute or so.

“Not yet.”

“In my prenatal class, they said the nurse would massage my abdomen after the baby was born to help expel the afterbirth.”

Dan was willing to try anything. He slid the baby higher up on Fay, and as gently as he could, he began to massage Fay’s abdomen.

“I think you have to do it harder,” she said.

He increased the pressure. The afterbirth came out and the blood flow diminished. But it seemed to him she’d lost quite a bit. A lot more than that woman who he’d helped deliver her fifth child. Too much?

“All over,” he told her.

Once he’d tied off the cord and severed it, he wrapped the baby girl in one of the small blankets he’d cut and lifted her cautiously, supporting her along his left arm while holding her there with his right. He eased her into the wood-box and returned to Fay.

“Got to get you cleaned up,” he told her. “I’ll let the back of the Morris chair down and carry you over there while I fix up the couch. You’ll be able to look into the crib from there.”

As she watched him, she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a chair like that. It’s sort of like a lawn chair but made of wood.”

“Really old—my grandfather’s.”

“Put plastic over it first.”

Dan obeyed, then lifted her into his arms, surprised at how light she felt. Once she was settled into the Morris chair, he disposed of everything that had been on the couch.

“I wish I felt strong enough to clean up my baby,” she said when he returned. “I’m pretty well out of commission right now, though.”

“Don’t worry about it. After what you’ve been through, you need to rest.”

Her gaze met his and, for the first time he noticed that her eyes were hazel, somewhere in between green and brown. Her pallor disturbed him.

“After what we’ve been through,” she corrected. “You said we’d do this together and we did.”

Her words warmed him as he put new plastic on the couch and covered it with the last of the flannel sheets.

“If you’ll get me a basin of water,” Fay said, “I’ll clean myself up a bit before I go back to the couch.” She nodded toward the remainder of the old towels he hadn’t used. “If you just put those on the back of the couch so they’ll be handy later, when I need them.”

Dan busied himself with gently washing the baby while Fay washed herself. When she finished, he carried her back to the couch and she stretched out with a sigh as he covered her with the quilt. He’d no more than turned away, when the baby began crying.

“She may be hungry,” Fay said.

Damn. He hadn’t even thought of the baby needing nourishment. While there was food enough for him and for Fay, there was nothing for a baby.

“If you’ll bring her to me, I’ll see if she’ll nurse,” Fay said.

Stupid of him not to think of that. He was more rattled by all that had happened than he’d thought.

Fay had bared a breast by the time he carried the baby to her and, fascinated, he watched as the tiny girl found the nipple and began to suck. Then, realizing he was staring, he flushed and turned away, muttering, “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” Fay said. “Nursing a child is a natural act, after all, just like childbirth.”

It was certainly true he found nothing sexual about it. He’d felt privileged to have assisted at a miracle.

Turning back he touched the baby’s head lightly with his finger. “She is beautiful,” he said softly.

As he seated himself in the Morris chair, he realized Fay was also beautiful, something he’d been too distracted to notice until this moment. She was unnaturally pale right now; she wore no makeup, and her dark brown hair hung limply around her face. Still, none of that mattered. Beauty wasn’t always a matter of the right clothes, right hairdo or the right makeup.

As for the baby, holding that tiny body had made him understand for the first time his ex-wife’s inner need to have a child. There was something about the warmth and helplessness of a baby that triggered something deep within. Yes, even in him, the man who’d vowed never to bring a child of his own into this dangerous and imperfect world.

Chapter Two

Once the drowsy baby finished nursing, Dan carried her back to the improvised crib. When he turned to Fay, he saw her eyes were closed. Good, she needed to sleep. Since neither of them required his help for the moment, he used this chance to duck out to the garage and start the generator. They needed electricity not only for the lights, but for the well pump, so they could have running water. He’d warm the water in the wood kitchen range for bathing the baby and for Fay.

He got into his winter gear, tied a scarf across his face and headed for the back shed. As he opened the shed door, Fay cried out, “Don’t leave me!”

He turned and saw her sitting up, staring at him.

“I wouldn’t do that.” He realized there was more indignation in his tone than reassurance. Didn’t she know he’d never desert her?

“You’re going out into that storm,” she wailed. “What if you can’t find your way back?”

“Just to the garage to turn on the generator. We need electricity. The garage is close to the back shed. Believe me, I won’t get lost.”

Fay watched him step into the shed and close the door, cutting off her view of him. She sank back down onto the couch, clutching her hands over her now deflated abdomen, feeling more tired than she could ever remember. Daniel Sorenson was her lifeline. Hers and the baby’s.

She took deep breaths, trying to control what she knew was illogical panic. The emotion was strange to her. Cool, competent Fay Merriweather had always been the one others turned to when things went wrong. She’d never realized giving birth would make her feel so vulnerable. But then she’d never expected to have the baby in a wilderness log cabin during the worst storm she’d ever seen.

In a hospital there were doctors and nurses to take care of everything. Here all she had was Dan. If anything happened to him… She blocked that line of thought.

I have to be strong for my daughter, she told herself firmly. I will be strong.—which was easier said than done. But Dan would be back, he’d said so. She glanced toward the wood-box that was being used as her baby’s bed, and she smiled slightly as she made a decision.

She’d planned on the name Marie if she had a girl, but circumstances had changed her mind. Marie would be her daughter’s middle name, not her first. Fay’s eyes drooped shut. Half-asleep, she heard Dan reenter the cabin. She sighed and plunged into oblivion.

The sound of a baby’s wail roused her. For a moment or two, seeing unfamiliar surroundings, she couldn’t place where she was. Whose baby—? Then she heard a man’s voice. She turned her head and saw Dan lifting a baby—her baby—into his arms. She could tell it was daylight through the window, but the roar of the wind let her know the storm was still raging.

“You are one wet little peanut,” he said in a soft, teasing tone she knew was meant for the baby. “Good thing I got the generator going so I can use the washer, ’cause we definitely have a limited supply of dry diapers. Not to mention baby blankets. And only two safety pins.”

She watched as he laid the baby on the table and somewhat awkwardly removed the wet diaper and replaced it with a dry one, then wrapped her in a blanket. He picked her up again and turned toward Fay.

“Good morning,” she said.

“In some ways,” he agreed. “We’re okay, but the storm’s still stuck fast in the Upper Peninsula.” He crossed to her and handed down the baby who’d begun to cry again. “I think she’s saying she’s hungry.”

“You can call her Marie,” Fay told him as she arranged the child at her breast. For a moment, fully occupied with making sure Marie was sucking, then wincing just a little at the cramp nursing brought to her lower abdomen, she wasn’t looking at him. When she did, she saw he’d turned so he wasn’t facing her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Thinking he’d noticed her wince, she said, “Yes. Nursing is supposed to help interior healing.”

“That’s good.”

“You don’t have to keep looking away from me while I’m nursing,” she told him.

“I know it’s a normal process,” he said, “but it’s new to me.”

A tiny giggle escaped her. “New to me, too. It’s lucky Marie didn’t need to be taught what to do.”

He faced her again and nodded. “I—it’s sort of a personal thing between mother and child.”

Since he was looking at her almost with awe, Fay couldn’t help but understand how moved he was by watching her nurse little Marie. She found this incredibly touching.

After the baby finished nursing, Fay felt exhaustion creeping over her again. “Marie needs to be burped,” she said. “I don’t think I’m quite up to it at the moment. Maybe tomorrow. Could you—?”

Dan blinked. “Burped? How do I do that?”

“You hold her up on your shoulder so any air bubbles in her stomach can rise and come out. Otherwise they might make her stomach hurt.”

Fay watched him take the baby from her and position her carefully. It seemed to her each time he held Marie he did so with more confidence. They smiled at each other when they heard a soft but unmistakable burp. As he shifted the baby down to hold her in the crook of his arm, Fay noticed what had accompanied the burp.

“Uh-oh, she spit up a little on your shirt.”

“No problem. She couldn’t help it.” He looked down at Marie, his expression positively doting, which both amused and touched Fay.

As he crossed to lay the baby back in her makeshift bed, Fay threw back the quilt, sat up and plucked one of the old towel pieces from the couch back. She swung her feet to the floor, but when she started to get up, everything whirled alarmingly and she sank back down. Rats. No way could she make it on her own. She was going to need Dan’s aid to get to the bathroom and back. As if the poor guy hadn’t been already burdened enough.

“Need some help?” he asked, crossing to the couch.

“I’m afraid so. Sorry.”

“No need to be. You’ve been through a lot in the past eight hours.”

Once she reached the bathroom, Fay assured him she’d be okay until the trip back. Even if she had to do it by pure willpower alone, she thought. She had a vague memory of him undressing her and putting her in the shower before the baby was born, then dressing her in this way-too-big pajama top. Woozy as she’d been, she distinctly recalled the feel of his warm fingers against her breasts as he’d buttoned the top. The least she could do now was tend to her private needs alone, rather than embarrass them both.

But she was glad of his strength when she leaned against him as he led her back to the couch. He covered her with the quilt and it was all she could do to thank him before she fell into another deep sleep.

By the time Dan gathered up all the wet and soiled flannel sheets and diapers and baby blankets, he had a full load. Thank heaven his dad had installed the small washer with the dryer above it when he’d redone the bathroom.

If anyone had told me I’d be spending my administrative leave washing baby diapers, he thought, I’d have asked what he was on.

He wiped at the wet spot on his shoulder and stared at the few tiny milk curds on his fingers. Fay’s breast milk. He took a deep breath. Watching her breast-feed had triggered a strange new emotion, one he’d never felt before. It had nothing to do with lust or sex, but he was damned if he could figure out what it meant. Just like holding the baby and caring for her made him feel as though he’d been awarded some kind of privilege.

Whatever emotion it was unsettled him and he tried to reason it away. So they both needed him. So what. As a cop, plenty of people had needed his skills at one time or another. No reason to get all cranked up about it.

He started the washer, returned to the main room and put another log on the fire. He’d meant to make a meal for Fay, but she was sleeping so soundly he decided to wait. Rest was probably more important than food at the moment anyway. He’d sure hate to go through what she had, especially alone with a stranger in a cabin isolated by a storm.

He thought of his ex-wife and frowned. He couldn’t imagine Jean being as brave as Fay under the same circumstances. He stared down at Fay, dark lashes contrasting with too-pale cheeks, her brown hair tangled. Her eyes, he knew, were hazel, a sort of gold-green. She looked so vulnerable asleep, looked as helpless as her baby actually was.

He had no notion of how long it took a woman to recuperate from childbirth. Maybe she’d feel stronger tomorrow, as she’d said.

Little Marie whimpered, and he quickly moved to her side. She wriggled a little, but didn’t open her eyes. Blue eyes, he knew. Like his.

Come on, man, he scolded. Probably she had her father’s eyes. Besides, hadn’t he heard somewhere that babies’ eyes changed color when they got a little older?

The fine fuzz on top of her head was blond, also like his. He frowned impatiently. Marie was certainly not his daughter.

That had been one of the reasons he and Jean had gone their separate ways. He didn’t want children and she did. Something clutched at his heart as he looked down at the sleeping baby. What a world Marie would face as she grew up, danger lurking around every corner. He wasn’t a cop for nothing; he knew what kids had to cope with. None of his would ever have to, that was for sure. But it troubled him to think this little one would.

The next morning, when Fay tried to get up, she found she could make it all the way to the bathroom herself if she held on to furniture or the wall. But she still felt incredibly weak.

“I’ll have to ask you to go on taking care of Marie for another day,” she told him after she made it back to the couch. “I’m still sort of noodle-kneed.”

At his worried look, she added, “But I’m sure it’s only temporary.” What she meant was she hoped it was only temporary. Still, it had to be, didn’t it? “Any sign the storm’s letting up?”

He shook his head. “Usually these spring storms are three-dayers. Can last four, but no longer. We’re stuck here for a while yet.” As he spoke he brought her a tray of food, pulled the coffee table closer to her and set down the tray.

She eyed the toast and eggs with real hunger. “That gives me at least one more day to recuperate enough to ride into town, then.”

“More than one or two. The road’s private, so the county plows don’t come in here. The plow’s still on my truck, though, so I’ll get us out to the main road when the time comes. No use starting out from here unless the highway is cleared, and they won’t begin ’til the storm’s pretty well over. What I can do when the wind dies down is to go look for your car and bring back your stuff. Any idea how far you were from the cabin when you had the crash?”

Fay put down her fork. “I’m not sure. It seemed to take forever to see a light. To get here.” Chilled by the realization neither she nor the baby would be alive if she hadn’t, she hugged herself.

He reached down and touched her shoulder. “Hey, you made it. Eat up, you need to.”

She nodded and picked up the fork, aware he was right. She did need food. Without her breast milk, Marie would have no nourishment. “Thanks. I could use a change of clothes. And I did pack a box of disposable diapers and some baby clothes in the car, too.”

She swallowed a forkful of scrambled eggs, then paused. “It just occurred to me to wonder why you left that outside light on in the midst of a storm. Were you expecting someone?”

He shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “A habit left over from childhood, I guess.”

“You mean from when your mother left a light on for you?”

“You might say that.”

Puzzled, but also curious about his obvious uneasiness, she asked, “Have I said something wrong?”

He released his breath in a sigh before muttering, “At least I had the sense to leave the damn light on.”

She’d hit a nerve, though she hadn’t a clue why. Somehow she knew, though, it had nothing to do with her.

“Your eggs are getting cold,” he told her.

So they were. She picked up her fork again.

Between naps and nursing the baby, the time passed so quickly Fay was surprised to note darkness when she looked at the windows. Dan had run the washer and dryer, so temporarily, at least, Marie had clean diapers and blankets. That evening, after he’d prepared dinner and cleaned the dishes, he pulled a chair up beside the couch where Fay had propped herself up on pillows.

“I’m still curious about how you got here,” he said. “Want to talk about it?”

“Just the facts ma’am?” she asked, smiling at him.

“My dad used to watch Dragnet,” he said. “Police work in those days seemed pretty cut-and-dried.”

“My dad watched it, too.”

“Was he a cop?”

She shook her head. “He worked as a foreman in an automobile foundry until he retired.” When he could have been so much more, she couldn’t help thinking. At least she hadn’t inherited her dad’s lack of ambition. Fay sighed. “I guess you could say my dad is part of the reason I’m here in this cabin. He didn’t want me to have the baby.”

Dan frowned. “Because your—the baby’s father was dead?”

How careful he was not to say husband, Fay told herself, wondering if all cops were so tactful. “You’re right in thinking I wasn’t married to Marie’s father,” she said. And that was all she intended to tell him about what had happened there.

“Anyway,” she continued, “my mother died five years ago. Since my father and I were at odds, I decided I’d rather have my baby in a more nurturing atmosphere. I still had a couple more weeks to go before my due date, and I made up my mind to drive to Duluth to see my mother’s sister and have the baby there. Aunt Marie and I have always been close.”

“So she’ll be worrying about why you haven’t shown up.”

Fay shook her head. “Aunt Marie invited me to come stay with her any time I wanted to. She said she wasn’t planning on making any trips for a few months and she’d love to have me there. I knew she meant it, which was why I decided to go. I called her to let her know, but when the answering machine started to kick in, I hung up.”

“You didn’t leave a message?”

“No, I thought I’d call her on the way. You probably think that sounds so impulsive, but that’s the way I am.”

“You’ll get no polite denial from me.”

She tamped down her spurt of annoyance. Okay, she had been a tad impulsive. But she’d badly needed someone who cared about her, someone who would welcome the baby. “I did try to call, but my cell phone battery went dead.

“I planned to use a pay phone and I tried that, too, from a gas station near the Straits. But there was only one phone at the place and the guy using it apparently intended to talk forever. The next place I stopped, just before I crossed the Straits, had an out-of-order phone.”

“What you’re telling me is your aunt didn’t know you were on your way to Duluth.”

She sighed. “That’s one of those Sergeant Friday facts. So Aunt Marie won’t be worrying about me.” Fay eyed him. “I did plan to call once I crossed the Mighty Mac, but by then it had started to rain and I figured I’d just drive straight through. No need to tell me, I realize it was a bad choice.”

When he raised one eyebrow slightly and seemed about to speak, she tried to change the subject. “You must have some kind of police rank.”

“Sergeant, just like Friday.”

Though no expert about the police force, she knew sergeants didn’t walk beats. “That makes you a detective?”

He nodded. “Once over the bridge, the rain got progressively worse, I gather.”

“Yes, but I had no idea it was going to get so bad I got lost.” She glanced toward the makeshift crib. “And I certainly had no warning I was going to start labor.”

“The cabin phone’s still out,” he said. “Can’t expect any repairs ’til the storm blows out. And a cell phone won’t work in this remote area, so it’s just as well your aunt didn’t know you were on your way to her. How about your father?”

“I did leave a message on his answering machine saying I was leaving town and didn’t know when I’d be back. Not that he cares.”

She fielded Dan’s skeptical look and gazed calmly back at him. He had no idea what her father was like. Time to try to turn the tables again. It didn’t seem likely he had a wife if he was out here all alone in the wilderness, but he must have relatives. “Isn’t there anyone who might be worrying about you?”

“Bruce, Will and Megan, my brothers and my sister, know I can take care of myself. They live in Evergreen Bluff, the closest town to this cabin. We’ll be going there as soon as we can get out to the main road. Bruce is a doctor and I’m taking you and Marie to him to be checked out.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” She waited a minute, then said, “Do you actually live in this cabin year round?”

“I live downstate, in Archer.”

“Archer!” she cried. “So do I. What a coincidence.”

As they stared at each other in mutual surprise, she noticed again how bright a blue his eyes were, really an unusual and attractive color. She also saw, for the first time, a thin scar running from his hairline across his left temple. When she realized she was raising her hand as though to touch the scar, she hastily clasped her hands together. What was the matter with her? Had the baby’s birth addled her wits?

Marie cried, as if on cue, and Dan hurried to change her and bring her to Fay to nurse.

The next morning, though intermittent snow mixed with rain still sputtered from the clouds, the wind no longer howled around the cabin. After making sure Fay and Marie were all right, Dan set out to try to find the wrecked car. He wished Fay would get some color back in her face. The slow and careful way she walked around the cabin and her frequent naps told him she still wasn’t up to par.

He was almost to the creek before he saw the snow-mounded car up against a good-sized pine. He was about to trudge through the snow to it when he noticed the bridge over the creek looked wrong. Wading closer, he let loose with a few choice expletives when he realized what had happened. The no-longer-frozen creek, roiling over its banks with snow melt, had washed out the footings on the far end of the bridge, closest to the main road. Great. Just great. No way to cross the damn thing until it got fixed.

As he slogged his way back to the wreck, he tried to console himself with the fact that at least her car was on this side of the bridge so he had access to supplies for the baby and for Fay. After brushing away some of the snow, it was obvious to him the car would have to be towed when that was possible. It seemed a miracle Fay hadn’t been seriously injured.

He wound up making two trips to transport everything he found inside the car to the cabin. On the second trip he thought about Fay wandering lost and half-frozen through the storm. He gritted his teeth, knowing she and the baby might well have died out here, if he hadn’t thought of his mother’s strange belief about storms and left the porch light on. Though he tried not to think about his mother much, the memory he’d dredged up about the light had saved lives.

But his mother was someone he never talked about, even to his siblings.

“Good thing you brought so much for the baby,” he told Fay, once he was inside again. “Looks like we may be stuck here longer than I figured.” Then he gave her the bad news about the bridge.

“If it can’t be helped, there’s nothing we can do,” she said, much less upset than he’d thought she would be. “You said there was enough food for us, I have breast milk for Marie, and now we have the stuff from the car. We’ll make it all right, the three of us.”

We. The three of us. Her words warmed him even as he tried to push them from his mind. Fay and her baby were his responsibility until he could get the two of them to safety. Still, he was Dan Sorenson, a man who wanted no ties to anyone.

Since Fay was still too weak to trust herself carrying the baby back and forth from the wood-box, Dan continued to fetch Marie for Fay to nurse and, much of the time, to change her diaper as well. He was getting more adept at the latter, especially with the disposable ones. Fay had also included a dozen cloth diapers, which some book she’d read had told her would be welcome in case of an emergency. Dan was sure the author had never figured on this kind of emergency.

He’d thought about and discarded the idea of giving her the only bedroom, in the loft, because he doubted her ability to climb up and down the steep stairs in her condition. Besides, where she was on the couch, near the fireplace, was the warmest spot in the house. Dan had been sleeping in the Morris chair since her arrival since he couldn’t take the chance she or the baby would need him in the night and he might not hear from the loft. He’d never felt such a tremendous urge to protect anyone as he did Fay and her baby.

Watching her sleep, he noticed how attractive she looked with her brown hair now softly curling around her face, in the topaz robe that changed her eyes to the same warm shade. He wondered about the baby’s father, who’d died, and about Fay’s father, who didn’t want his own grandchild. He glanced over at the wood-box, where Marie was sleeping. Though he’d recovered the baby bed from the car and set it up, they’d decided together the baby was better off where she was.

“You’re frowning.” Fay’s voice told him she was awake. “Having bad thoughts?”

“Not as bad as some,” he told her.

“Yeah, I get those in-between ones. I found the best thing to rid myself of them is to work.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

She hitched herself up higher on the couch. “I’m a consultant.”

“That covers a lot of ground.”

“So do I. After I got my MBA, I worked for a high-powered management company that sent me all over the place doing this and that for different firms. Once I had enough experience, I decided I could do better on my own, so I took the leap and it’s worked out great.”

“A high-powered consultant.”

She smiled and said, “Good description.”

“What did Marie’s father do?”

“Something similar, only for a firm, not for himself.”

“Now you’re frowning,” he told her.

“I like a man to be ambitious. Ken…” Her words trailed off.

“Sorry to pry. A cop gets used to asking questions.”

“I don’t mind your questions. After what we’ve been through together we’re hardly strangers. It’s just that I discovered somewhat late that Ken and I didn’t mesh too well. There was no way I could marry him and I told him so.”

Dan hid his surprise. “Then he died?”

Fay bit her lip. “I’d already broken off with him by that time. I had no idea then I might be pregnant, but that wouldn’t have changed my mind. It was all so sudden, the leukemia he never knew he had and killed him almost overnight.” She took a deep breath. “Logically, his death wasn’t my fault, but sometimes I feel so guilty.” Tears glimmered in her eyes. “Why is it logic has no effect on emotion?”

Dan moved from the chair to sit beside her on the couch and took her hand between both of his. “You can’t blame yourself for his disease.”

She sighed. “I know. But then, even though I’ve always used protection, I discovered I was carrying Ken’s child and told my father. He insisted I not have this baby. He hated Ken. Dad never reconciled himself to the fact I meant to have my baby.” The tears ran down her cheeks.

Dan wrapped his arms around her and held her while she wept, patting her soothingly, trying to ignore how good her softness felt against him.

When her tears eased, she drew away, wiping her eyes with a tissue from the pocket of her robe. “Sorry. It should have been Aunt Marie listening to all this, but I didn’t make it that far.”

“I don’t mind being her substitute,” he told Fay. “Not at all.”

Only later did it alarm him how much he’d relished being the one who’d offered her comfort in the circle of his arms. It wouldn’t do. Not at all. The situation was only temporary. Once they could leave the cabin, she’d go her way and he’d go his. Unencumbered, in his case. Alone.

Chapter Three

By the following day, Fay felt strong enough to pick up little Marie, change her diaper and carry her to the couch to nurse. Every so often, though, she had to ask Dan to carry the baby back to the wood-box, making her wonder if it was normal to have such little exercise fatigue her so.

“The plows should be clearing the highway so repair trucks can get through,” he told her in the afternoon. “The problem is I don’t know where the electric and phone lines went down so I can’t tell how long it’ll be before we get them fixed. We’re stuck here ’til I can get a call out about the bridge being impassable.”

“Now that the storm’s over, won’t your siblings worry if they don’t hear from you?” she asked.

“Bruce might not, and Will’s out of town, but Megan’s sure to. We tease her that her mission in life is to mother the world. That’s why I’m out here. She drove me crazy fussing over me at our old home in town. Seemed to think I needed bedside nursing.”

His words reminded her she’d noticed he favored his left leg when he walked. “Were you injured?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Got shot in the leg. Flesh wound. Pretty well healed now.”

“Is that why you’re in the Upper Peninsula instead of on duty in Archer?”

“Some of the reason, anyway.”

Fay was sure the leg wound had been more serious than he let on. She wondered what else was keeping him off duty, but didn’t probe. If he wanted to tell her, he would. But he’d made her curious. “Who shot you?” she asked.

“The perp. Perpetrator. That’s cop talk for the bad guy.”

She opened her mouth to ask what happened to the perp, but decided she was doing exactly what she’d told herself she wouldn’t—probing. “Evidently your job has its exciting moments.”

“Some a lot more exciting than I’d like. Jean—” He broke off abruptly.

“Jean?” she echoed.

“My ex.”

“Oh.” She should have known a guy as attractive as Dan would have been married. At first she hadn’t thought of him as anything other than the man who’d saved her life. Who’d taken care of her and Marie. But there was no denying blond, blue-eyed Daniel Sorenson was a hunk to set women’s hearts—and other parts—throbbing.

Not that hers were. Physically and emotionally she was nowhere near ready for either romance or sex. Still, she did have eyes, after all, and she did like to look at him. She also wanted to know more about why Jean was his ex. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. “So you’re divorced,” she said as casually as she could.

His mouth twisted. “Cops’ marriages have a tendency to fail.”

Fay blinked, having never thought about it before. “Why?”

“We sometimes get killed.”

She examined his blunt words. “I admit that’s a real problem, but—”

“Cops also work overtime and often can’t let a wife know they won’t be home on time. The uncertainty of whether their husband might not be coming home because he’s dead or lying in a hospital wounded seems to wear on women.”

“Okay, but that still doesn’t seem to me to—”

“In my case there was also the question of children.”

“Question?”

“I don’t want any. Won’t have any. Not with today’s world like it is. Jean wanted kids.”

Fay thought of his gentleness with little Marie and felt a pang. She could tell he’d already grown fond of her daughter. Dan would make a wonderful father.

“That’s too bad,” she said. “Raising a child has always been a risk, though.”

“Yet you took it.”

She smiled. “I’ve been a risk-taker for most of my life.”

He grinned wryly. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know firsthand.”

“I guess I deserved that. Going back to your divorce. Do you feel it was your fault? Because I don’t. Jean must have known you were a cop when she married you.”

“She thought she could convince me to get into something she considered safer. You may have the same trouble understanding what she never could. I like what I do. Once in a great while, I might even make a difference. I don’t want to find other work, safer or not. No, I don’t blame myself for the divorce, but I do for the marriage. Cops have no business marrying. Especially this cop.”

His tone was so bitter she suspected something else was involved at the root of the problem. Deciding not to touch on that, she said, “I think I can understand why you joined the police.” Though it was true he’d advanced to detective, he seemed to be saying he liked it just where he was. If he had any ambition, he could eventually become a police commissioner somewhere, become a real power. It reminded her of her father staying a foreman all his life when he could have advanced. He’d liked his job, too.

“We both have reservations about marriage,” she added. “How can one ever be sure the other person is the right choice?”

“By steering clear of the whole process in the first place. Like Bruce and Megan.”

“Your brother and sister aren’t married?”

Dan shook his head. “Bruce claims he knows when he’s well off. And Megan says she gets along just fine being single.” After a moment he asked, “Ever play double solitaire?”

She realized the question meant the marriage discussion was at an end. “I know what solitaire is,” she said, “but I didn’t realize two could play it together.”

“Not exactly together. More like opponents, since only one can win. I’ll teach you later, after your nap.”

The word nap made her realize how fast fatigue was once again creeping up on her. She yawned and nodded. Later was fine with her.

Several hours later, Fay had mastered the rules of the game and Dan had beaten her three times out of three.

“Be warned,” she advised. “No one wins against me forever.”

“You haven’t tangled with me before.”

“Hey, when I say no one, I mean no one. Just you wait. If you’ve got a Scrabble board around here someplace I’ll take you three out of three.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

She smiled. He was in for a big surprise.

Just before Fay fell asleep that night, it occurred to her how fast time was passing. Maybe it was because much of her time was spent either nursing or otherwise caring for her baby and a lot of the rest sleeping, but she was surprised to realize that she wasn’t in the least bit bored. Even if the cabin had TV the electricity was out. It was a welcome change not to be reminded of the world’s problems.

The batteries in Dan’s radio had given up the ghost the day after Marie was born, so the outside world couldn’t invade the cabin at all.

They were suspended in a cocoon where time didn’t matter. Of course, like all time-outs, it wouldn’t last, and, in a way, she was sorry.

The next morning, Fay woke to the welcome smell of coffee and found sunlight brightening the room. Fire crackled in the fireplace, a sure sign Dan had placed a new log on. She’d never before realized how a wood fire warmed the spirit as well as the body. She said as much to him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Could it be high-powered consultants don’t have time to spend contemplating a fire?” She scowled at him and he laughed, adding, “We’re out of eggs, out of bread and almost out of peanut butter. The powdered skim milk’s still with us, though, so we’re having oatmeal for breakfast.”

“Is that a tricky way to get me to admit I’m glad I got rescued by a cop who can cook? I’m not such a bad cook myself, as I’ll show you one of these days.”

After making her way to the bathroom and dressing in a pair of her old maternity jeans, she pulled on a sweatshirt and came over to check on Marie, who was sleeping peacefully. Fay’s burst of energy began to fade, but she sat down at the kitchen table rather than retreat to the couch. She simply had to get back to normal.

She dug into the honey-sweetened oatmeal diluted with reconstituted skim milk and ate with relish. “One thing about nursing,” she said. “It keeps a gal hungry.”

“Good thing the storm’s letting up, ’cause that’s the last of the honey, too. Tomorrow we’re reduced to plain white sugar.”

She rolled her eyes. “Horrors.”

“The highway must be completely clear by now, so I figure Megan’ll be sending someone to check on us today.”

“But the bridge is out. Right?” Before he could answer, she said, “Oh, I see what you mean. As soon as whoever it is reaches the far end of the bridge, he’ll discover what the problem is—and voilà—we’ll be rescued.”

“More or less. With luck we’ll be out of here by late tomorrow or sometime the following day. Before we’re reduced to beans and canned stew.”

After Marie’s next nursing, Fay napped and roused when she heard what sounded like a truck horn in the distance. Dan was already donning his jacket.

“Going down to greet our rescuer,” he told her.

After he left, she got up and peered from a window, but the drive curved among the pines, making it impossible to see what was happening. The rain had melted some of the snow and the sun was trying to finish the job. Here in the woods, though, the trees’ shade slowed the melting. She gazed out at what was still a winter scene. In April.

She remembered one of her father’s sayings and repeated it aloud. “Spring’s like love, it can be delayed, but you can’t stop it.”

What was he thinking now? Did he worry about where she was and if she was all right? Probably not, he’d be too busy with his new companion, a widow he’d met at Archer’s senior center. Fay hadn’t met her yet. Hadn’t wanted to. Didn’t want to.

Restless, she sat at the table and wished she had her laptop computer with her. She hadn’t brought it along, figuring she wouldn’t be using it at her aunt’s. If only she had her computer and a place to plug into a phone line that worked, she would at least know what was going on in the world. Not that it really mattered at the moment. But everything you wanted to know could be found on the Internet.

Well, not exactly everything. Advice might be available on the Net, but advice frequently didn’t work when dealing with tricky human relationships. Love, for example. She’d never been quite sure she’d ever actually been in love. Her father’s homily said love couldn’t be stopped. Okay, but how could you tell when it finally got to you?

The front door opened and Dan stuck his head in. “I’ve arranged for the bridge to be fixed. Frank’s plowed from the highway to the far side of the bridge and he thinks they can shore it up tomorrow morning. I’m going to plow the drive from here to the bridge now so we’ll be set to go once the bridge is safe to cross over.” Before she could answer, he was gone.

Frank must be the rescuer Megan had sent, Fay told herself. So tomorrow they would be leaving the cabin, all three of them. She sighed, wondering why she didn’t feel more elated at the rescue. Probably because she felt so tired. The mere thought of trying to drive home exhausted her. First she would have to arrange for a car, because Dan had said hers was pretty well totaled and would need to be towed. He’d told her he would take care of all that, but she knew the drive would be her responsibility.

Marie began to fuss and, as Fay changed her and settled with her on the couch to nurse, she considered the idea of heading on to Duluth instead. It wasn’t any farther from here than going home, and there she’d have her aunt to help her, while in Archer she had no one.

When Marie was satisfied and had been burped, Fay laid her across her lap and studied the baby’s tiny features. She envisioned someday telling her daughter the circumstances of her birth. She could end by saying Marie’s blue eyes reminded her of the wonderful man who’d saved both their lives.

Nothing about the baby reminded her of poor Ken, but she thought Marie looked a bit like baby pictures she had of her mother, though the blond hair was Dad’s and so were the blue eyes.

When she got to Duluth, she’d ask her aunt who she thought the baby resembled. If she made it that far. Fay shook her head. Of course she would. Tired or not, she had to.

Though cheered somewhat by the thought of being with her aunt, it didn’t make her feel any stronger. What if Dr. Bruce found something seriously wrong with her when he examined her tomorrow? No! She wouldn’t worry about the day that hadn’t yet come. After all, this was her first child. For all she knew, her fatigue was normal.

When Dan came in through the back door, he shed his snow gear and found Fay propped up on the couch, the baby asleep in her lap. He eased himself down next to her, saying “We’re all set.”

He looked at the baby and smiled. “She gets prettier every day.”

Fay touched her hair self-consciously, aware she looked far from her best. She knew he’d seen her at what was undoubtedly her worst, but, still, she wished she felt more like fixing herself up. As it was, she’d just run a brush through her hair and hadn’t bothered to use any makeup because she hadn’t the energy.

Glancing at her, Dan added, “Must take after her mother.”

Suddenly Fay realized that he meant the baby’s prettiness came from her.

“Nice try at being gallant, Sergeant,” she said.

He frowned at her. “I’m not the gallant type. When I say something, I mean it.”

He couldn’t possibly, not the way she looked at the moment.

“I didn’t find a camera in your car,” he said.

“I forgot it. I was going to get a disposable one in Duluth.”

“My camera’s back in Archer. Buying a disposable one’s a good idea so you can take some shots of the baby. We can pick it up in town tomorrow.”

“What I’d really like is a shot of you holding Marie,” she admitted. “One I could show her when she’s older, so she’ll know who you are.” As she spoke, it occurred to her that she wanted the photo for herself, too. So she could look at it and remember. Not that she’d ever forget Dan.

“I’ve been thinking I’d like to go on to my aunt’s in Duluth once I leave here,” she added.

He scowled. “You’re in no condition to drive anywhere alone yet.”

She had to be, there was no choice.

“Why not wait till my brother examines you before making any decisions?”

“Sooner or later, I have to—”

“Later.” His tone offered no room for argument. Plucking Marie from her lap, he carried the baby to her bed.

Fay was too tired to bristle. Sighing, she eased herself down and closed her eyes.

As Dan looked over the dwindling food supply, he told himself it was a damn good thing they would be leaving the cabin in the morning. He had enough spaghetti for supper, but nothing to make a tomato-based sauce with. He located some fairly ancient cheese and decided with flour, skim milk and the last dab of butter, maybe he could conjure up an edible white sauce. There would be nothing but beans for a side dish. When he’d stocked up, he hadn’t counted on either the storm or the pregnant woman lost in it.

In another way, though, he hated to leave the cabin. In ordinary circumstances he tended to be close-mouthed. The circumstances of Fay’s arrival and their enforced intimacy had certainly loosened his tongue. He’d never before explained to anyone why he and Jean had split. Rather than being sorry he’d told her as much as he had, he felt they’d exchanged confidences. He’d shared some of his past with her in the same way she had with him. He was going to miss her. And the little peanut as well. He’d had no conception of how quickly a baby could carve a niche in the hardest heart.

He tried not to worry that Bruce might find something seriously wrong with Fay, but her pallor made him doubt that her lingering fatigue was normal.

Supper, while not an outstanding success, was edible. There was nothing wrong with Fay’s appetite anyway. While he cleaned up the kitchen, he glanced now and then at her as she nursed the baby, enjoying the warm feeling it gave him.

After returning Marie to her bed, Fay sat at the table. “Look what I found in one of the cabinets,” she said, tapping a finger on what he saw was a Scrabble board. “Prepare for an ignominious defeat.”

He laughed. “Only in your dreams, gal.”

He hadn’t played Scrabble since he’d been a kid, and even then it hadn’t been his favorite pastime. But, hell, there wasn’t all that much to the game.

When he drew the X, worth eight points, right off, he smiled. Since he had an S and an E he spelled out sex on the board.

His smiled faded as she added a Y to the word and spelled yazoo down the other way. “Is that a word?”

“Certainly. It’s a person who lives by the Yazoo River in Mississippi.”

“Then it’d be capitalized.”

“Actually, no, it isn’t,” she said smugly.

He eyed her assessingly. Was Fay a cheat? Shaking his head, he muttered, “Have to admit I never saw a sexy yazoo. But then I’ve never been to Mississippi.”

The next word he spelt out was breast. As he looked up from the word, his gaze traveled over Fay’s T-shirt and, noticing the sensual curve of her breasts underneath, he felt a sudden stir of desire. He wondered why watching her nurse Marie didn’t turn him on, yet the sight of her covered breasts had done just that.

You’re losing it, Sorenson, he told himself. Cabin fever.

In the end, Fay beat him by a narrow margin.

“Close, but no cigar, as my dad used to say,” she remarked as she tallied up the game.

“Mine, too,” Dan told her. “He said it came from carnivals where you got a cigar if they couldn’t guess your weight within a pound either way.”

“Do you think we’re doomed to become our parents?”

“I sure hope not.”

“My mother was okay,” she said, “but my dad…” She broke off.

“The other way around in my family.” He hadn’t known he was going to blurt that out until he heard himself say it. He saw her interest and groaned inwardly. What was there about Fay that made him reveal more of himself than he ever had to anyone else?

“Can I ask, or are you sorry you said anything and don’t want to talk about it?” she said.

“Not much to tell,” he said gruffly. “She ran off with another man when I was in college and Dad divorced her. He’d never talk about it, but he was devastated.”

“Are both your parents still living?”

“Dad is. Bought a place in Florida. Said he had enough of cold winters. I—we don’t know where my mother is.”

“How sad.”

Dan shrugged. His sympathy had always been with his father. He couldn’t imagine living all those years with a woman and then, without warning, having her leave him flat for some other guy. Marriage was vastly overrated.

“Is that why Bruce and Megan have never married?” Fay asked.

“Part of it. Will—that’s my older brother—had a failed marriage and so did I. That contributed to our belief that Sorensons are better off single.”

“I see. But it’d be interesting to talk to your mother.”

He stared at her, frowning. Why in hell would she want to talk to his mother?

“There’s always more than one side,” she informed him. “Didn’t you ever search for her?”

“No!” The word burst from him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to press on a sore point. Or interfere in what’s your business and not mine.” She rose from her chair.

When he noticed her clutch at the chair back to keep her balance, he jumped to his feet and put an arm around her to help her back to the couch. His anger was no reason to forget how fragile she still was. Wouldn’t happen again. Above all, he meant to keep Fay safe.

He just had no intention of marrying her or any other woman. Even if she’d have him. Which he doubted. Fay had made it pretty clear if she ever chose a husband, he’d be the high-powered, ambitious type. Which didn’t even remotely describe Dan Sorenson. Not that he cared.

When he’d eased her onto the couch, she looked up at him and said, “When we get the camera, I’ll make sure you get a picture of Marie to keep.”

He’d forgotten all about the camera. “I’d like that.”

“But not necessarily one of me. Really, I usually look a lot better than this.”

He figured he’d give her another try at understanding how he saw her. “You look fine. Too pale, but otherwise—”

“You’re a sweetheart to say so.”

Which he deciphered to mean she didn’t believe a word of it, so he decided she wouldn’t believe anything else he might have to say about her appearance. If he admitted that he found her beautiful, she would attribute it to kindness on his part. Gallantry, even.

“There’s more than one who’d tell you I don’t have a kind bone in my body,” he told her. “Or a sweet heart.”

He could see his words had confused her.

“You’re wrong about what I want,” he added. “I’d like a photo of you as well as one of Peanut.”

“Peanut? Is that how you think of her?” She smiled. “I guess she is sort of tiny, at that. Maybe your brother or sister will take one of the three of us. A memento of the April storm.”

Megan would, he was sure. A memento. But that was what their time together would become, after all.

Dan reached a gentle finger to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch lingering on the smoothness of her skin for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “Something to remember.”

He already suspected the hard part would be forgetting.

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