Somebody's Baby (3 page)

“How could I have not seen it? It was clear the moment I laid eyes on you,” he murmured. “You aren’t the same woman.”

“No, I’m not.” It sounded almost like an apology, she realized too late. This time she did push his arm away from her.

He let it fall easily to his own side as if she had had no effect on him whatsoever. “And you sure don’t look as good as the last time I saw you.”

Accustomed as she was to unfavorable comparisons to her sister in the attractiveness department, this man’s assessment stung like a backhanded slap to her self-esteem.

She hung her head. “I’m not surprised you’d think—”

He dipped his head and his eyes searched her face. “You look better.”

“Better?” she squeaked, cleared her throat, then matched his smoky whisper in depth and volume. “Better?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He nodded. “Motherhood becomes you.”

She smiled. Maybe this guy wasn’t a total jerk after all. He knew who she was and had picked up on the one thing in which she had outshone her vivacious twin. Motherhood did become Josie.

She managed a modest smile. “Thank you for noticing. I know we have a lot to deal with, but it’s good to know you can see how important being a mom is to me.”

“Oh, yeah, I can just guess how ‘important’ motherhood is to a girl like you—” a sudden change came over his features; a hardness rang in his tone as he wrung out the rest “—Ophelia.”

Yeeoow.
Now she knew how those football coaches felt when the player dumped a tub of ice on them to celebrate a victory! She peeked to make sure that the baby was still sleeping, then turned with a flourish to face this cowboy-biker-Burdett creep. “How can you not know who I am?”

“I could ask the same of you. Do you know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are,” she whispered back, closing in on him to keep her voice from disturbing her child. “You are the man who, if he doesn’t get out of my bedroom this instant, will be explaining himself to the whole Mt. Knott Police Department, every last one of them a close personal friend of mine.”

His mouth lifted in a one-sided sneer. “I’ll just bet.”

She spun quietly around to snatch the only picture she had of herself and her twin from on top of her dresser. “I know them all from going to school here. From working year after year alongside their moms and sisters and wives and friends at
your
family’s factory. I know them from serving them meals at my own diner.”

Confusion registered in his ominous expression. His gaze flicked downward to the framed photo, then up to her face as if asking if she expected him to understand what she wanted to show him.

She tugged it up higher for his inspection. “That’s Ophelia.” She jabbed her finger at the girl in the forefront of the photo with her hands up and her hair in her counterpart’s face. “That’s me. Josie.”

“Josie?” He shook his head. “Who is Josie?”

“Josie is me, pal. The woman who is kicking you out of here before we wake my baby.” She shoved at his shoulder to prompt him to get moving.

“For the baby’s sake, I’ll go, but just so we can sort this whole mess through somewhere else.”

“Agreed.” She ushered him into the hallway, pulling the bedroom door firmly shut after them.

“And for the record, ma’am,” he said, stopping short in front of her so that she could neither move past him or retreat.

“What?” she asked, trying to sound as brave as she had felt while defending her son.

“For the record…” He leaned down close until his face loomed before hers, his eyes demanding her total focus. “That little boy asleep in that crib in there—”

She held her breath.

“—is
my
baby.”

“G
o on home. I’ll be all right.” This woman, this spitting image of Ophelia Redmond only…softer, gave the babysitter a comforting pat as she nudged the wide-eyed gal out the front door.

Adam stuffed two fingers of each hand into his back jeans pockets and shifted his weight to one leg. Softer or not, that tangle of red-blond curls with the honest eyes and mama-tiger-protecting-her-cub ferocity stood between him and his son. He didn’t like that. Did not like that one bit.

And Adam was determined he would not like her, either. He’d come for his son and that left no room for anything but cold indifference toward the woman who wanted him to relinquish his parental rights.

Josie shut the door and turned to him, a smug expression on her pretty face. “I’d ask you if you wanted some coffee, but seeing as you’re not staying long enough to—”

“I take it black,” he told her. “The coffee, that is. In a mug, not some wimpy little teacup.”

Her eyes cut straight through him like two burning coals. They shone with emotion and life that he’d never seen in her twin’s gaze. Not that it mattered, of course. As far as he was concerned, Josie Redmond was the enemy.

“And piping hot,” he added, enjoying tweaking her anger a bit more than he really should have allowed himself.

She took in one long, deep breath, held it, then let it out, slow—real slow. “Anything else?”

“With sugar.”

“Do tell.”

“Yep.”

“Well, I like mine decaf. Instant decaf.” She jerked her head toward the open door to his left. “You’ll find everything you need on the counter.”

“Me?” He jammed his thumb into his breastbone.

“You want coffee, you make coffee.” She put her hand to the wall and kicked her thick white shoes off. “I’m officially off duty, Mr. Burdett.”

“Adam,” he drawled, hoping it hid his grudging admiration for her unflappable response and her no-nonsense approach.

She reached up and snagged the white hair-holding thingy loose. Spiral curls clung to it as she dragged it downward. She shook her head, her hair tumbling down to brush her straight shoulders. She put her hand behind her neck. “What did you say?”

“Huh?”

“Maybe
I
should make the coffee after all.” She narrowed one eye on him. “Wouldn’t want to tax you too much, you know, by expecting you to talk
and
handle a kitchen appliance at the same time. Could get tricky.”

Adam huffed a hard laugh, more amused than he wanted to admit. “Bet you get a lot of tips with that winning attitude of yours.”

“I do all right.” She turned and padded into the kitchen.

“I’ll just bet you do,” he muttered.

“What’d you say?”

“Adam.” He strolled into the glaring light of the kitchen and leaned against the cabinet where she was pulling out two coffee mugs. “I asked you to call me Adam. Mr. Burdett is my father.”

“I know.” She clunked one cup down on the counter.

“Yeah. Of course. Everyone around here knows the Burdetts.” He watched her for some sign that she shared his opinion of his family. Why he wanted to find that commonality with her, he didn’t know. It just seemed, standing here in this small space with her, that it sure would be nice to have a girl like her on his side. “You know which one I am, right?”

She placed the second cup down as though it were as delicate as an eggshell, then stretched her hand out for a jar of instant coffee. She wrenched the lid off the jar, then yanked open a stubborn drawer, making the silverware clatter as she pawed around inside it.

He tried to will her to answer. He wanted to hear firsthand from someone who didn’t share his last name, just what people in Mt. Knott thought of him and what he had done to his family’s business. He wanted to hear it from
her.

“I know which one you are.” Her fingers curled around a spoon, and the room grew very quiet. Finally she said so softly that a draft from the nearby window might have blown the words away, “You’re the man whose name is on my baby’s birth certificate.”

She did not look up. She went right on making the coffee. But it didn’t escape Adam’s attention that as she scooped the dark-brown powder into each cup, her hand trembled. With one sentence she shifted from a smart, sassy woman in control to one scared little lady.

That’s just what he had wanted when he had first shown up tonight.

Then why didn’t he feel better about it?

“What am I doing?” The spoon clinked against the inner lip of the cup. She shut her eyes and shook her head. “I should have heated the water first.”

“Never mind.” He straightened away from the cabinet.

“No. I’ll fix this.” She lifted both cups. They rattled against each other, tipping one and sending instant coffee spilling over the counter. “Now look what I’ve done, I—”

“Look, forget it.” He stepped forward, feeling every inch the heel for having reduced her to this. “I don’t need any coffee.”

“No, I said I’d make it and there’s one thing you ought to know about me, Mr. Burdett. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it.” She set both cups down, then began to scoop up the dark dust in her palm. It sifted through her fingers like sand. “I can fix this. I can—”

“Josie.” He took her by the wrist and turned her to face him. That’s when he saw the tears rimming her eyes. They seemed held in place only by the sheer force of her will not to cry. He cupped her fisted hand in his palm. “I didn’t come here for coffee.”

“I know,” she rasped. “You came here to take my son.”

A few minutes ago he’d not only have agreed with her, he’d have thrown in a crude adjective to seal the deal. Now? All he could do was clear his throat and say, softly, “Then maybe we should just talk—”

She jerked her head up. “I’m not anything like my sister, you know.”

He smiled then. “I can see that.”

“You can?”

When she looked confused, Adam noticed, a small crease appeared between her eyebrows.

“How can you possibly see I’m not like Ophelia? We only just met.”

“I can see it—” he rubbed one knuckle along her cheek as gently as he could manage “—because you’re the one who’s here with my son, not her.”

“That’s because…” Her voice failed. She blinked. A single tear dampened her cheek. She pushed out a shuddering breath. “I love him. He’s mine.”

It killed him to hear that, and at the same time it made him proud and elated to know his boy had been loved and wanted by somebody. Adam studied her with a series of brushing glances.

Not just
somebody,
he realized when his gaze searched hers. The baby’s aunt. His birth mother’s identical twin. Someone with a blood bond and a heart with the capacity to put her needs aside to care for a helpless infant.

And grit. Josie had to have grit, he decided on the spot. How else could a woman choose to bear the burden of single motherhood? How else could she stay in Mt. Knott and watch the jobs and opportunities ebb away, partly because of his own actions, and even begin her own business because she knew she had to provide the sole support for a child?

“You can say that? After Ophelia just dumped him on you?”

“I never said she—”

“But that’s what she did, right?”

The woman lowered her gaze to the floor. “It doesn’t change how I feel about him.”

Adam swallowed, and it felt like forcing a boulder through a straw. Everything he’d determined about this lady flew right out the window when he considered all he’d learned in just a few moments with her. He liked her plenty, in all manner of ways, most he didn’t even understand yet—and he reckoned she was plenty good for his boy, as well.

“Please, Mr. Burdett,” she whispered, her chin angled up and her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Please tell me you haven’t come to take away my baby.”

“Actually, ma’am, I…” Adam sighed.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t take his son away from the only mother the baby had ever known. He wouldn’t.

“I haven’t come to take him away, Josie.”

She shut her eyes and mouthed the words
thank you.

Adam didn’t know if she spoke to him or to heaven—maybe both. He took one step back. So he’d wimped out of doing what he’d come here to do. That didn’t mean he’d called a complete surrender…and he respected this woman enough to make sure she understood that without question.

“But I think you should understand, ma’am.” He stuck his thumb through his belt loop and anchored his boots wide on the gleaming vinyl floor. “I won’t simply sign some papers and walk away, either. He’s my boy and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I stay involved in his life.
Whatever
it takes.”

Joy and apprehension battled within Josie, and in the end joy won. He said he wasn’t going to take her baby. Knowing that, she figured she could handle anything else thrown at her by this biker/cowboy with a voice that poured over her nerves like honey over sandpaper.

“Then let’s talk, Mr. Burdett.” She extended her hand toward the small kitchen table, her hope renewed that this could still work out in her favor. “If you still want some coffee, I can—”

The sputtered coughing cry of the baby halted her offer and Adam Burdett’s movement toward the table at the same time.

He gave her a quick, panicked look. “That him?”

“Unless my cat’s become a ventriloquist, I’d say yes.” She laughed but couldn’t make it sound real, not knowing that if the baby awakened she’d have to let this…this…
father
person see him. The very notion made her heart race.

She cocked her head to listen, praying that the baby was merely restless and would quiet and go back to sleep on his own.

“You got a cat?” Burdett leaned into the doorway to stare down the hall in the direction of the bedroom.

“What?” She blinked, moving to the door to lean out just a bit farther than he did.

“A cat.” He slouched forward, his face a mask of concentration all focused on any sound that might arise from the child. “I heard it said that it’s not good to have a cat around a baby.”

“That’s an old wives’ tale.” Josie rolled her eyes.

No other sound came from the baby’s room. She relaxed enough to appreciate the level of confusion and worry on Burdett’s face over the routine sounds the baby had just made and some silly superstition.

The baby was quiet. Maybe the fact that she’d dodged the letting-him-see-his-son-for-the-first-time bullet made her warm a little to the man. Or maybe it was the tenderness in those eyes that allowed her to loosen up a bit and say, “You don’t know much about babies, do you, Mr. B—I mean, Adam?”

“This is my first,” he said softly.

“Mine, too,” she said, even softer.

She bet no other new parents had ever shared such an awkward or awkwardly sweet moment. Josie found within herself the power to actually smile. Maybe after a few meetings, a few long talks about parenting philosophy, visitation expectations, some practical lessons in the care and feeding of a one-year-old, she’d be ready to allow this man to see their son. Then later, maybe, after he’d proved himself capable, he could hold the baby and—

Just then the baby broke out in a howling lament.

Josie froze.

“I don’t know much about babies, ma’am.” Burdett glanced at her and then down the hallway, his whole body tense. “But I do know that means someone needs to go check on him.”

She took off before he finished the sentence. Josie heard his big old boots clomping along the hallway right behind her stocking feet and it irritated her.

“So then, you’re saying it’s okay—your cat and the baby?”

“What cat?” She spun around, placing one hand and one shoulder to the bedroom door. He practically loomed over her as she glowered up at his concern-filled face and snapped, “I don’t have a cat.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

The baby wailed again.

“But I do have a child who needs my attention. Now if you’ll just go wait in the kitchen and excuse me, I’ll take care of my baby.” She started to slip inside the room without opening the door to any unnecessary invitation.

His arm shot past her head, his palm flattened to the door just inches from her eye level. “Whoa, there, sweetheart.”

She twisted her head to peer over her shoulder.

“I promised I wouldn’t take the baby from you.” His dark eyes went almost completely black. She saw the heat in his cheeks and felt it on his breath as he lowered his voice to a raw-edged whisper. “But I double-dog promise you something else, as well, I won’t take
this
from you, either.”

“What?” A corkscrew curl snagged on her eyelash and bobbed up and down as she batted her eyes in feigned innocence.

“I won’t take this game of trying to shut me out of my baby’s life. I want to make that very clear.”

It was. And despite the anxiety it unleashed in her, Josie realized, she respected and admired his attitude. For a year now she had painted the baby’s father as some sleazy party animal who hadn’t even cared enough to find out what had become of Ophelia. It gave her some curious comfort now to know that wasn’t the case. Her son had a decent man as a father.

A decent, gorgeous, Harley-riding, Mt. Knott-deserting rich man who could change from rapt preoccupation over his child and some imaginary cat to issuing hard-nosed mandates about the boy in a matter of seconds, she reminded herself.

“Do you understand that, Josie?”

She understood that and so much more. Like her problems with the diner and the simple existence she had known before she took in Nathan, from this point forward the life she had planned was going to take a different turn, and, like it or not, it was going to have to include Adam Burdett.