Be My Baby
Holly Jacobs
“Amelia, thank God you’re still here,” Mac called.
“What did you need,” she said.
“I need you,” he replied.
Mia managed to keep from choking at his reply. “Pardon me?”
“Not you, your help,” he corrected himself. “Get in the car, please?”
“But—”
“Please, Amelia?”
There was something in his voice that told Mia that now was not the time to argue or taunt him. Something was wrong. She waddled her well-layered self toward the car, and as she got closer she heard noise. Lots of noise. It wasn’t music. Or if it was, it was the most awful music ever.
It sounded like—
A baby.
A crying baby.
Larry Mackenzie had a crying baby in his back seat.
Other Perry Square Titles:
A Day Late and a Bride Short
#1553
Dad Today, Groom Tomorrow
#1683
Dear Reader,
Whether our heroes are flirting with their best friends or taking care of adorable tots, their stories of falling for the right woman are sure to melt your heart. Don’t miss one magical moment of this month’s collection from Silhouette Romance.
Carolyn Zane begins THE BRUBAKER BRIDES miniseries by introducing us to the first of three Texas-bred sisters, in Virginia’s Getting Hitched (SR #1730). Dr. Virginia Brubaker knows the secret to a long-lasting relationship: compatibility. But one sexy, irreverent ranch hand has a different theory all together…that he hopes to test on the prim but not-so-proper doctor!
In Just Between Friends (SR #1731), the latest emotion-packed tale from Julianna Morris, a handsome contractor rescues his well-to-do best friend by agreeing to marry her—for a year. But he doesn’t know about her little white lie—for them, she’s always wanted more than friendship.…
Prince Perfect always answers the call of duty…to his sons and to his kingdom. But his beautiful nanny tempts him to let go of his inhibitions and give in to the call of the heart. Find out if this bachelor dad will make the perfect husband, in Falling for Prince Federico (SR #1732) by Nicole Burnham.
The newest title from Holly Jacobs, Be My Baby (SR #1733), promises a rollicking good time! When a carefree single guy finds a baby on his doorstep, he’s sure things couldn’t get worse—until he’s stranded in a snowstorm with his annoyingly attractive receptionist. With sparks flying, they’re guaranteed to stay warm!
Sincerely,
Mavis C. Allen
Associate Senior Editor
Be My Baby
Holly Jacobs
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This one is for Larry who, although we’ve never met,
has great taste in taco joints and in sisters! It’s also for
Allison, with many thanks for everything—it was a joy
working with you. Finally for Rachel,
who doesn’t pop her gum, but does great nails!
Books by Holly Jacobs
Silhouette Romance
* (#litres_trial_promo)Do You Hear What I Hear? #1557
* (#litres_trial_promo)A Day Late and a Bride Short #1653
* (#litres_trial_promo)Dad Today, Groom Tomorrow #1683
* (#litres_trial_promo)Be My Baby #1733
HOLLY JACOBS
can’t remember a time when she didn’t read…and read a lot. Writing her own stories just seemed a natural outgrowth of that love. Reading, writing, chauffeuring kids to and from activities makes for a busy life. But it’s one she wouldn’t trade for any other.
Holly lives in Erie, Pennsylvania, with her husband, four children and a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound Old English mastiff. In her “spare” time, Holly loves hearing from her fans. You can write to her at P.O. Box 11102, Erie, PA 16514-1102 or visit her Web site at www.HollysBooks.com (http://www.HollysBooks.com).
Contents
Chapter One (#u359b096c-66d1-5459-bd3f-0de8f3753138)
Chapter Two (#u702184f1-d596-526a-95ec-bd9aa9732a81)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
“The forecast for Erie, Pennsylvania, calls for lake-effect snow. We’re expecting anywhere from twelve to more than eighteen inches in the snowbelt tonight. Just another snowy Erie winter. It’s good to know that some things never change…”
Change.
Amelia Gallagher switched off the radio with a bit more force than was required. She could do with a change. But it looked like what she was getting was more snow.
A lot more snow.
“If you keep glaring like that, you’re going to scare away the paying customers,” Larry Mackenzie said as he walked into Wagner, McDuffy, Chambers and Donovan law firm.
She watched him as he stomped his feet on the entryway floor, leaving a small pile of snow on the carpet.
Mac was easy on the eyes. As a matter of fact, some might say the phrase tall, dark and handsome had been invented with him in mind. But Amelia knew the truth. Her mother used to say pretty is as pretty does, and what Larry Mackenzie did best was annoy her.
Of course, she did her best to annoy him right back.
He didn’t feel the name Larry inspired the type of confidence an attorney should inspire, so he preferred being called Mac, which is precisely why Amelia said, “Larry—”
“Mac,” he corrected her for the millionth time.
Amelia hid a smile as she continued. “You’re making a mess on the floor and I’m not cleaning it up.”
He scowled, which cheered her considerably.
She handed him a number of memos. “You’ve had three messages from a Kim Lindsay while you were at court. She says to call her right away.”
He glanced at the top paper she handed him and studied the name a moment. “Lindsay…Kim Lindsay? It doesn’t ring a bell. Did she say what it was about?”
Amelia shrugged. “Listen, I just take the messages, I don’t get an autobiography. You probably met her at a bar last week and have forgotten her already.”
“The only bar I attended was a Bar Mitzvah for Mark’s kid.”
“Funny, Larry.”
That was the thing about Larry Mackenzie—he thought he was funny.
Come to think of it, most people agreed with him. But Amelia didn’t, although she could think of a number of descriptions she did feel suited him.
Annoying.
Egotistical.
Frustrating.
Cavalier.
Annoying…oh, she’d already thought that.
Gorgeous, if a woman was into superficial looks…which Amelia wasn’t. It’s just sometimes she forgot she wasn’t and couldn’t help but enjoy the view.
Like right now, as he stood, laughing because he thought he’d verbally bested her with his Bar Mitzvah comment…if he was anyone else, she’d have to say that twinkle of humor in his eye was endearing.
But endearing wasn’t one of the words she’d ever use to describe Larry Mackenzie.
To clear her head of such inappropriate thoughts, she stared at the puddle he left on the floor with his unstomped shoes.
There. She felt better.
Larry was annoying.
Egotistical.
She sighed as she realized that she was just recycling terms. She’d just have to spend the rest of her day thinking up other appropriate adjectives—non-gorgeous ones—to describe Larry Mackenzie. It wouldn’t do to run out of them if she needed them.
“Listen, if you can’t manage calling me Mac, maybe you should call me Mr. Mackenzie?”
“Or maybe I should simply call you—”
She couldn’t think of a barb to end the sentence with, but thankfully, Larry would never know because at the moment, Elias Donovan, the firm’s newest partner, walked into the building and said, “Tsk, tsk, tsk, kids. If you’re going to fight, I’m going to have to put you in separate corners.”
He’d kicked off most of the snow outside on the steps, which was considerate, unlike some people who didn’t care how much work they made for others.
“Separate is always good, at least when it comes to Larry and me,” she said.
Mac, without saying another word, stalked up the stairs toward his office.
“Do you have to pick on him like that?” Donovan asked.
“No. I also don’t have to floss every day, but I like my teeth and hope to keep them, so I do. Just like I enjoy needling Mac and would hate to lose my edge.”
Donovan laughed as he started up the stairs to his office. He turned and added, “In case I forget later, call me if you need a ride Monday, okay? Your car won’t make it out of the drive if the storm hits.”
“Thanks, Donovan,” Amelia said.
Donovan was a nice guy…unlike some other people in this firm.
Why, Mac wouldn’t care if she got stuck somewhere between home and work, but Donovan did. He’d just purchased a new four-wheel-drive truck last fall and had given her rides on a few of the worst days between then and now.
Of course, it helped that she was good friends with his wife, Sarah. Sarah worried about her and probably told Donovan to ask. But it didn’t matter who told him, Donovan was a nice guy who was right, her car wouldn’t make it if the storm hit.
Amelia’s old car was on its last legs—or tires as the case may be. But she’d just paid her brother’s last tuition payment, and as soon as she could save up a down payment, she was going to celebrate by buying a new car.
Brand new.
Something that had that new car smell.
Cloth seats at the very least.
Maybe even leather.
Her friend, Libby, had just bought a new car with automatic ignition and electric seat-warmers. Just push a little button from the warmth of your house, and then walk out five minutes later to a warm car and warm seats.
Oh, the utter decadent luxury of it all.
Soon Amelia would save enough money to get something like it. After years of taking care of other people, she would finally be able to concentrate on what she wanted.
Their dad had left them when Amelia was young, not that he’d ever really been with them, even when he still lived at home.
She hadn’t mourned her father’s leaving. But her mom…when she had died, Amelia thought her heart would break. She was only twenty-one, but knew what she had to do. She dropped out of college and took over as head of the family. Her brothers deserved all the breaks she could give them.
After scrimping and scraping for the last six years to get both Marty and Ryan through college, she was now a financially independent woman. She’d spent her life looking after people, now all she had to do was look after herself. She could do all the things she’d always dreamed of.
At least, she could if she could figure them out.
Maybe she’d go back to school. Maybe she’d take up skydiving. Maybe…
There was a world of opportunity out there. A new car with seat-warmers was just the start. Life was just waiting for Amelia Gallagher to discover it.
No, not Amelia.
That was a name that sounded weighted with responsibilities.
Mia.
Her family had always called her Mia when she was younger. When she was carefree. Somewhere along the line they’d stopped and she’d become Amelia.
Amelia. The responsible one. The one who took care of things…who took care of the rest of them.
Well, she was carefree again and she would soon discover what that meant. She was Mia again. Amelia might not know just what she was going to do, but Mia was going to figure it out.
Annoying attorneys forgotten, Mia continued to fantasize about all the things she could do now, starting with the car she was going to buy soon.
Very soon.
“This is just a stop-gap measure, Mr. Mackenzie. You’ll have to decide soon, very soon.”
“Legally, it’s my right.” Mac didn’t know many things—and at this moment, the biggest thing he didn’t know was what he was doing—but he knew the law.
“I don’t know if exercising that right is in the best interest of the child, and that’s all that concerns me,” Ms. Lindsay said, giving him a look that clearly stated that she was positive Mac couldn’t handle the job.
“Her mother named me guardian, and as such, it’s up to me to worry about Katie’s upbringing.”
He was responsible. The thought scared Mac to the very core of his being, and he was man enough to admit it. At least to himself.
He was responsible for a baby.
He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about her, but he was sure he wouldn’t drop the ball…not like his parents had.
He slammed the door shut on that thought.
He wouldn’t mess things up for this baby like his parents messed things up for him.
It wasn’t as if it was a life-long commitment. He would find her a home—a loving, dependable adoptive home with people who would love her and always be there for her—and that would be that.
It amazed him how much things had changed in just one short hour.
Just sixty minutes ago he’d returned Kim Lindsay’s call. Of all the things he’d expected, this wasn’t even the glimmer of a possibility. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of Esther Thomas’s living room with the mysterious Kim Lindsay.
She wasn’t someone he’d met and forgotten as Amelia had suggested. Leave it to Amelia to always suspect the worst of him. Just this once, he wished she’d been right. It would be so much easier if Kim Lindsay was just another person he’d met and could forget. But no, Ms. Lindsay was a social worker assigned to his case.
Not his case, but Katie O’Keefe’s case. It had been Kim Lindsay’s job to find out if the infant had any relatives to care for her and to make arrangements if she didn’t.
Katie O’Keefe didn’t have any relatives, but she had Mac.
Her guardian.
He was responsible for the baby. That was something Ms. Lindsay was having problems remembering.
“I already have a foster home lined up for her,” Ms. Lindsay said. “The super let me into Marion’s apartment and I found your name as her emergency contact.”
“Not an emergency contact, a guardian. I’ve shown you copies of all the papers.” He was glad that he’d thought to bring them.
“And you told me that you never imagined it would come to this, that you don’t know the first thing about babies, and don’t plan on keeping her. If that’s the case—”
“I’d be willing to keep her, for a fee. Just enough to cover the costs,” Esther Thomas wheedled.
Mac looked at Marion O’Keefe’s neighbor. She looked frail with age, hardly able to take care of herself, much less a baby.
“No,” he said, his response was quickly echoed by the social worker. They exchanged conspiratorial smiles. They might not agree on where Katie O’Keefe should stay, but they obviously had no trouble agreeing it wasn’t here.
“I mean,” Mac said when the old woman scowled, “while I appreciate all you’ve done for Katie, her mother wanted me to care for her, and that’s just what I’m going to do.”
“Ms. Thomas, would you excuse us a moment?” Ms. Lindsay asked.
“Yeah, whatever. Her mother never wanted me to baby-sit either, as if I can’t take care of a baby…” The older woman wandered down the hall, muttering to herself.
Ms. Lindsay studied a file.
Mac recognized the move. He often employed it himself. Looking at the file gave her a feeling of authority, reminding both of them that she was in charge.
Mac waited to see what her next argument was.
He didn’t have to wait long.
She looked up from the chart and met his gaze. Before she could say anything he said, “I’m taking her with me. After all, it’s just short-term. Her mother trusted me with her care.”
“Tell me again how that came about?”
“Ms. O’Keefe didn’t have any family. The baby’s father died before she was born. Marion wanted to see to it her daughter never ended up in a foster home. She knew she needed a guardian, someone to see to the baby’s future in case anything happened. She’d read about some of my cases, and knew that I’d been instrumental in arranging a few adoptions.”
Mac did pro-bono work for Our Home, a nonprofit agency that tried to place special needs children into adoptive families. But he didn’t work with the children personally and he’d never served as anyone’s guardian.
He should have told the woman no. It was legal in Pennsylvania for a lawyer to serve as guardian, but rare. He should have simply said no.
Mac had been ready to do just that. But when Marion O’Keefe had come to his office she’d seemed so alone as she told him her story. And despite his best intentions, he empathized. He knew what that felt like to have no one to turn to.
She’d looked at him, her need apparent in her eyes. “There’s no one else to ask, Mr. Mackenzie. I wouldn’t expect you to raise her, but you’ve done adoption cases, worked with a lot of kids. You’d find her a good home.”
“Her?” he’d asked.
“Her. I had a sonogram. It’s a girl.” Marion had smiled then and run her hand lightly across her stomach, a small caress filled with love.
That’s when he realized he couldn’t say no.
The memory still hit Mac hard. At that moment he’d envied the unborn baby. Her mother had wanted her so much. Marion O’Keefe had loved her child before she was even born. She’d worried about the baby’s future and had trusted him to see to that future if she couldn’t.
In the end, he didn’t have the heart to refuse her request. He’d agreed to act as her unborn child’s guardian if anything should happen to her, and then dismissed the entire incident. After all, Marion O’Keefe had been young and seemed healthy. No one could have predicted the aneurism that had taken her life.
Mac felt a stab of sorrow for the woman’s passing, for the baby who would never know how loved she’d been before she was even born.
He might not have thought it would come to this, but the baby was his responsibility. He wasn’t going to fail Marion or her child. Marion’s baby would never know her mother’s love, but Mac would see to it she was placed in a home where she would know love. He wouldn’t trust her care to strangers. Until he found her a new home, he’d watch over the baby.
“I promised her mother and I have an ethical obligation to personally see to the baby.”
“But—”
“Ms. Lindsay, unless you can come up with a legal reason why I can’t take the child, then this conversation is over.”
The woman sighed. “Would you at least take my card and phone if you need anything?”
“Listen, I might be stubborn,” he flashed her a smile, hoping to charm her out of her annoyance, “but I’m not stupid.”
He took the card. “I’ll call regardless and let you know how we’re doing and what I decide.”
“Fine. There wasn’t much at the apartment. Not even a crib for the baby. I don’t think her mother had much.”
“I don’t either,” Mac said. “I offered to write her will pro bono, but she refused.”
Marion O’Keefe had been a proud, loving woman. She’d made payments. Five dollars every week, like clockwork.
Mac would make sure Katie knew that about her mother.
“The super said he’d pack all her personal items and ship them to you for Katie.”
“That’s fine.”
The social worker started toward the door. “Mr. Mackenzie, do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”
“She’s how old?” he asked, knowing it was less than a year since Marion O’Keefe had sat in his office.
Ms. Lindsay glanced at her chart again. “Seven months.”
“Seven months.” He laughed. “How hard could it be?”
This time it was Kim Lindsay who laughed. “I’ll talk to you in a couple days and you can let me know your answer then.”
Ms. Thomas came back down the hall, carrying a bag. “I put her clothes and stuff in here. There’s only two more diapers, so you’d better stop and get some.”
“Thank you, Ms. Thomas.” He took the bag.
“Let me go get her.”
It would have been so much easier if Mac had allowed Ms. Lindsay to place the baby with someone who had experience with children. Social Services shouldn’t have much trouble finding someone to adopt a baby.
Yet, he couldn’t entrust her care to someone else.
He might not know this baby, but he knew that she was special.
So, he’d find a loving home for her. Someplace where she’d never want for anything, emotionally or financially.
“Here she is,” said Ms. Thomas. She held the baby in a clean, soft blanket that looked out of place in the run-down apartment.
Mac took it and looked down at an angelic-looking face. Sleeping, her thumb tucked into the corner of her mouth, Katie O’Keefe was a beautiful baby. He ran a finger across her small pudgy cheek and something inside him twisted. She was so small, so vulnerable.
He pulled the blanket away from her head and revealed an amazing shock of red hair. She reminded him of her mother. He felt a surge of sympathy for this baby who would never know her mother, would never remember how much she was loved.
He’d find her a home—the perfect home. Until he did, he’d watch out for her.
“Thank you again, Ms. Thomas.”
The old woman humphed an inarticulate reply.
Mac started toward the door.
What on earth was he going to do now? He’d assured the social worker and the baby-sitter that he could handle this. He knew the child had immediate needs, but he didn’t even know where to begin.
He needed help.
But asking for help wasn’t Mac’s forte.
He tried to imagine who he could go to. He could call Mrs. Z., who was the closest thing he had to a mother, but she was in Pittsburgh. Not that he doubted she’d come help, but he couldn’t impose on her.
The head of the firm, Leland Wagner, had grown daughters, or maybe even his wife would give him some pointers. But the idea of going to Mrs. Wagner for help didn’t sit well.
There were other women attorneys and wives of attorneys at the firm. He could call one of them and ask for help in getting the baby settled.
He tried to concentrate on asking one of them, but the whole time, a mental image kept forming in his mind. It wasn’t an attorney, or a spouse.
It was Amelia Gallagher.
Why on earth had asking her for help even crossed his mind? She didn’t like him and went out of her way to show it. Which was fine, because he didn’t like her either.
Oh, she was a beautiful woman…very beautiful. But she didn’t seem to notice it. She was completely unaffected. But any red-blooded man noticed. Short blond hair and amazing blue eyes. Pleasant enough features. But that was just a laundry list of Amelia’s physical attributes.
They weren’t why she was beautiful.
It was her smile. He swore when her lips moved to the small upturned curve, it shot something right into her eyes and actually made them shine.
Katie made a small noise, interrupting Mac’s thoughts, which was a good thing, because to the best of his knowledge he’d never thought anyone had shining eyes before. And he sincerely hoped he never did again.
Shining had nothing to do with his point.
Katie gurgled.
“What is my point?” he asked her.
She gurgled again.
His point was, Amelia was a woman, so she must know something about babies. And he’d pay her. Goodness knows she always snapped at the chance to work overtime.
Paying her.
Hiring someone to help was better than asking someone for a favor.
Mac realized he’d reached his car. He looked down at the baby, the bag and car seat.
How on earth was he going to manage all of this?
It was four fifty-five. Five more minutes and Mia could call it quits.
Thank goodness.
This had been a long, exhausting day.
First the copier had broken down.
Then the copier repair guy said he couldn’t possibly come repair it until Monday, which meant half the firm came down to her desk clamoring for copies of life-or-death documents. So, Mia had forgone her lunch hour and taken a stack of papers to a neighboring copy center.
Phone calls, messages, and then there was the one distraught woman who’d left the office in tears. She hadn’t said what the problem was, but it had taken Mia a good fifteen minutes to get her calmed down.
The only highlight of her day was her argument with Mac.
Four minutes.
Mia stood and started to straighten up her desk.
A hot bath.
With bubbles and a good book.
Oh, she had such plans for the evening.
She pulled her boots from the coat closet and slipped off her heels. They weren’t the most elegant-looking boots, but Mia didn’t care about elegance. She cared about warmth. The heater in her car was broken, and most days she was lucky if it warmed up enough to keep ice from forming on the front windshield. It never truly got warm enough to take the chill off.
She slipped on her boots.
Three minutes to go.
“Night, Amelia,” Donovan and a couple other attorneys called as they all headed out together.
“Night.”
Two minutes.
Leland Wagner, the firm’s senior partner followed close on their heels. “You’ll lock up, dear?”
“Sure thing.”
“Would you like me to stay and make sure your car starts?”
Her battery had died last week and she’d had to wait for AAA to come and jump start her car. “No, sir. I had a new battery put in. I should be fine.”
“Very well. Good night, and drive carefully.”
“You, too.”
Five o’clock.
She was out of here.
She bundled into a sweater, and then her thin jacket.
Maybe before she bought a new car she’d buy a new coat.
Ah, but if she had a new car, she wouldn’t need a new coat. If she got the auto-ignition and seat-warmers it would be toasty before she ever got out there.
Pondering which was the wiser course, she wrapped her scarf around her neck again and again, then stuffed a woolen hat on her head.
Feeling stiff beneath her layers, she picked up her bag and walked toward the front door. She flipped on the security alarm, and then let herself out, checking that everything was locked up tight.
The world was white.
Snow was falling in big, thick flakes. There was at least a couple inches of snow since she’d left the office at lunch. It wasn’t a blizzard yet, but she had no problem imagining it turning into one.
Mia had just started down the steps when a blue Explorer pulled up at the curb.
The passenger window descended. “Amelia, I’m glad you’re still here,” Mac called.
“What did you need, Larry,” she said.
“I need you,” he replied, not even commenting on her use of his first name.
Mia managed to keep from choking at his reply, but barely. “Pardon me?”
“Not you, your help,” he corrected himself. “Get in the car, please?”
“But—”
“Please, Amelia?”
There was something in his voice that told Mia that now was not the time to argue or taunt him. Something was wrong.
She waddled her well-layered self toward the car, and as she got closer she heard noise. Lots of noise. It wasn’t music. Or if it was, it was the most awful music ever.
It sounded like—
She opened the door and peeked in the back seat.
It was.
A baby.
And a crying baby, at that.
Chapter Two
“What did you do now, Larry?” Mia accused loudly as she leaned into the car and stared at the car seat.
“Just get in and buckle up, fast. She cries whenever the car stops. If it’s moving, she’s okay.”
Mac had learned that the hard way. The entire trip from Esther Thomas’s home to the office was fraught with red lights.
As a matter of fact, every single traffic light he came to was red. And it stayed red for an inordinately long period of time.
Or maybe it just seemed like eternity because Katie O’Keefe screamed every time the car stopped.
Speaking of eternity, he watched Mia settle herself in the passenger seat, taking more time than he liked. She was moving rather stiffly.
“Are you in yet?” he asked, practically shouting to be heard over the baby.
She nodded.
Mac threw the car in gear and started down the street. The baby quieted immediately.
“So, what’s going on, Mac?” Mia asked, obviously disconcerted enough not to tease him.
As a matter of fact, she sounded genuinely concerned.
“You know that call you took today? That woman, Kim Lindsay? She was calling to tell me I had a baby.”
“Oh, Larry, how could you be so careless?”
He glared at her. “I wasn’t, but of course you’d assume the worst. Kim Lindsay is the social worker. I’m the baby’s guardian.”
She was silent a moment, then softly said, “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”
Amelia Gallagher apologizing? That was certainly out of character.
He nodded his acceptance and concentrated on the driving. He didn’t even glance in her direction as he said, “A woman came into the office last year wanting me to draw up a will. She named me her executor and guardian of her unborn child. I know it’s not normally the way things are handled, asking a lawyer to serve as guardian. It’s not something I’d normally agree to, but…” he paused. “There was something about her, about her story. She had no family, the baby’s father had died, and top it off, she was new in town. She was completely alone in the world. She worked at the courthouse and had heard about some of the cases I’ve done involving kids and…well, I just couldn’t say no.”
Mac had felt the now familiar stab of empathy for Marion O’Keefe.
He remembered her vividly, even after all this time. She’d been pale. More pale than redheads normally were. He should have known something was wrong with her physically. He should have tried to help her.
Kim Lindsay said that she’d died of a brain aneurism. It was fast and painless. There was nothing anyone could have done. But Mac still felt guilty, as if he should have known and been able to do something.
His voice lowered. “I never really expected it to come to anything. She passed away yesterday and this is her daughter.”
“Oh, the poor baby.” Mia peeked into the back seat.
Mac was pretty sure he caught the glitter of a tear in her eye, but she brushed her hand across her face, so he wasn’t sure.
“What can I do?” she asked.
He’d expected he’d have to cajole her, to bribe her…heck, maybe even threaten her into helping. He hadn’t expected such an immediate offer of assistance.
“I don’t know anything about babies,” he admitted.
“I don’t know much myself. I mean, I’ve baby-sat, so, I guess I know more than you, but it’s been years. I’m no expert.”
“Do you know enough to help me buy what she needs? At least, enough to cover her most immediate needs? She’s only got two diapers and one bottle of formula. There wasn’t much in the apartment, not even a crib. I know what they sent with me won’t get me through the night, much less the next couple days. I can pay you.”
Amelia glared at him, as if she was insulted. He knew it wouldn’t take him long to annoy her. Even when he wasn’t trying, annoying Amelia came pretty easily to him.
“I don’t need your money,” she said, frowning at him.
The baby made a soft cooing noise in the back and Amelia’s expression softened. “But I suppose I can help you get set up. Does this mean you’re keeping her?”
The light ahead of them turned red, and as the car stopped, right on schedule, Katie started to scream.
When they started moving again and the baby quieted, he answered, “No, of course not. I mean, I’m not equipped to take care of a baby for a few days, much less, take care of her long-term.”
“So why didn’t you just let that Kim Lindsay take her? That’s what Social Services does, right?”
His stomach clenched at the thought of sending Katie O’Keefe into the foster system, even if it would be only for a short time. He remembered what it was like being shuttled from house to house. Not that he was in the foster care system, unless you referred to his extended family in that respect.
When he was ten his parents took off for California with dreams of fame and glory, at least that’s what they said. Mac had always felt as if they’d simply become bored with playing a family. They’d sent him to live at his grandmother’s for a short stay. They’d promised to send for him, but they never did. Oh, he got an occasional call or letter, always filled with empty promises. His parents couldn’t handle the responsibility of a kid.
His grandmother passed away when he was twelve, he stayed with his aunt for a year, but she wasn’t thrilled with having the responsibility of looking after a child.
Finally, he ended up moving in with a friend’s family during his freshman year of school. The Zumigalas had let him stay until he left for college. Despite the fact they’d treated him as a son, he’d always known he wasn’t. He’d always known he was living there at their discretion and any day they could decide to kick him out. He’d expected it, had waited for it. But they never had.
They still invited him home to Pittsburgh for every holiday. They were the closest thing Mac had to a family.
He had never understood why they’d taken a stranger into their home, taken on the responsibility of another child. After all, his own family didn’t want him, why had they?
He’d never really figured it out. But he was thankful. They had given him more than a house to live in, they’d given him a home.
He was going to find for Katie O’Keefe what the Zumigalas had given him…stability. A place to belong.
She might be too young to understand on an intellectual level how precarious her position was, but she’d have to recognize what was happening on an emotional level. And he wouldn’t do that to her.
No, she’d stay with him until he found her a family of her own. A permanent family. People who would love her and never desert her.
“Her mother left her to my care,” he said. “She trusted me to find her a suitable family, though neither of us really expected me to ever be in charge of the baby. But I am, and I will personally care for her until other arrangements can be made.”
“What kind of arrangements?” Amelia asked softly.
“I’ll find some family to adopt her. I mean, how hard can it be? She’s a beautiful baby. She’s only seven-months-old. There has to be hundreds of prospective families who would love to make her their daughter.”
Another red light, and the car filled with the baby’s screams.
“Do you think she’s hungry?”
“I don’t know. Basically, the old lady watching her just handed her and that diaper bag to me.”
“Why don’t you pull over somewhere and let’s try feeding her. Maybe she’d be happier then?”
“Okay.” He’d do anything to calm the baby down. Her pitiful wails were breaking his heart.
He pulled into a gas station. “I need to fill the tank anyway. I think the weather reports were right, and I want the tank topped off if it’s going to storm.”
Mac got out and started pumping the gas. He watched Amelia get out and climb into the back seat with the baby. He couldn’t help glancing in the back window as she opened up the diaper bag and found the bottle. She leaned over and started feeding Katie.
He watched her lean closer to the baby, saying something, though he couldn’t make out just what. She was smiling at the baby. He knew, even though she was looking at Katie and not at him, that her eyes were sparkling. Alight with that special something she had—that certain quality Amelia Gallagher had, that drew people to her.
Even babies.
Donovan once said she was gregarious and friendly, the perfect receptionist. Maybe. Though describing Amelia as gregarious might be accurate to his colleague, she’d never been overly friendly with Mac.
As a matter of fact, she’d been almost hostile.
She always picked at him.
Of course, he picked right back. Their banterish quarrels were well-known in the office.
Why did she always rub him the wrong way?
Mac realized the gas had stopped pumping. He replaced the nozzle, put the cap back on the tank and walked into the store to pay, still puzzling over Amelia and how she affected him.
Mia watched Mac disappear into the store. He’d been staring at her.
“What’s up with him, Katie?” she whispered.
There had been something in his voice as he spoke about Katie. Something that told her there was more to this situation than his wanting to find the baby a home. There had been an undercurrent of pain, of vulnerability, in his tone. She’d never heard anything like that before.
She knew that Larry did a lot of volunteer work. She’d always thought it was just a way for him to fulfill the firm’s requirement that each lawyer give back to the community by doing pro bono work. But now she wondered if there was something more to it.
Katie slurped enthusiastically at her bottle.
She’d been hungry. Very hungry if her speed at emptying it was any indication.
“Didn’t they feed you?” she asked.
Katie smiled without letting go of the bottle’s nipple. Milk bubbles formed at the gap.
“You are sweet,” Mia told her.
Katie gurgled her agreement just as Mac opened the door and got in. “Are you ready?”
“Sure. I’ll sit back here and let Katie finish her bottle before we get to the store.”
“Fine.”
It was almost a relief to be in the back with Katie. This way she didn’t have to deal with Mac looking at her.
It wasn’t as if she was shy, but he always made her feel as if he saw…
Well, she wasn’t sure what he saw, but whatever it was, it made her uncomfortable.
Almost as uncomfortable as her new questions about Mac’s motivations.
She looked at the baby and couldn’t help remember when her brothers were little. Her mother had let her feed them, just like she was feeding Katie now.
“You’re responsible for him, Mia,” her mother had told her. She’d been hardly more than a baby herself, but she’d taken care of first Marty, then Ryan.
After her father finally left, she tried to help her mother take care of the boys. Even though she was only a few years older than they were, she assumed more of a parental role than a sister’s.
But now that Ryan had graduated her job was done.
She could do all the things she’d dreamed about.
It wasn’t just a new car. She could travel.
Maybe even date.
Nothing serious. Mia didn’t want anything serious or committed. She wanted fun. She wanted adventure. She wanted to live out her dreams…if she could ever figure out what they were.
She sighed.
“You’re awfully quiet back there?”
She forced herself to put away thoughts of the past. It was better to concentrate on here and now.
“After all Katie’s screaming are you really complaining that it’s too quiet?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “Listen, after we shop, would you come back to my house and help, just for a while? I have to get a crib and whatever else she’ll need for however long I have her. Everything will need to be set up and I’ll need help with her. I mean, I’ll take you back to the office once it’s all settled so you can get your car.”
“Sure,” Mia said, without thinking. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
A couple hours later, the car was stuffed with multiple pounds of baby paraphernalia. Mac had bought out the baby store. Watching him mull over the merits of different baby monitors, trying to decide what size Onesies to buy…well, it had been cute.
And thinking the word cute as a description for Larry Mackenzie was just too strange for Mia. She just wanted to go home and forget this odd afternoon.
She was back in the front seat as they pulled into Mac’s driveway. Almost done, she thought with a sigh as he put the car in Park and turned off the ignition.
She studied his house. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected, though she couldn’t really have said what it was she did expect.
It was a neat, two-story brick home in Glenwood Hills, a lovely, older section of town. A huge tree stood dead-center in the front yard. In the summer it probably shaded the whole house. Right now, it stood like a snowy sentinel.
“Come on,” he said. “If you get Katie out, I’ll start unpacking the stuff.”
Doing so would probably take him a while. For a man who claimed he was giving the baby up, he’d bought more than what the baby would need for the next year.
A crib, a changing table, clothes, bottles, pacifiers, toys, stuffed animals, diapers—three different sizes because they weren’t sure what size she’d need—and formula.
“Come on, Katie,” Mia said as she unstrapped the seat.
“Here,” Mac said, tossing her the keys.
Mia carried the baby onto the porch, set the car seat down on the ground and unlocked the door.
“Switches are to your left,” Mac hollered.
Mia flipped the two switches there. One turned on the porch light, and one turned on a table lamp next to a dark leather couch. She kicked off her shoes and walked to the couch and set the car seat on it.
She studied the living room. The focal points were a huge fireplace and a piano. Did that mean Mac played the piano, or was it just for show?
He had a huge leather couch and a matching overstuffed chair with a knobby-looking afghan thrown carelessly over the back. And there was a picture on the wall. No, not a picture, a painting. It was an outdoor scene. A rustic-looking barn in a snowy setting.
There was a thump on the door, and Mia remembered Mac was bringing in boxes. She ran and opened the door for him.
“Sorry.”
“No problem. I’m going to just haul everything to the guest room. Katie can use that for a room while she’s here.”
“Do you need help?”
“Let me get the little stuff first, then you can help me get the crib.”
“Okay.” She watched him make his way up the staircase to the left of the door and then turned her attention back to Katie. “Hey, you. Let’s get you unbundled.”
She unzipped the little sack that fit over the seat and acted as a coat.
“There you are,” she cooed as the baby burbled more happy little bubbles at her. “Oh, you’re going to melt some hearts, let me tell you.”
“Does she answer back?” Mac asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.
“No. Babies don’t generally talk at this age.”
“I thought you weren’t an expert.”
“I’m not, but you said she was seven months. I don’t think they really talk until they’re older than that.”
“Oh.”
“I’m going to leave her in the car seat until I’m done helping you. I don’t want her to get into trouble, and I might know she doesn’t talk, but I’m not sure if babies crawl at this age.”
She hurried to the door. The faster she helped Mac get the baby settled, the faster she could get out of here. This personal glimpse at Mac’s home was leaving her feeling…unsettled. She didn’t know why.
Somehow it was easier to picture him living in a sterile, bachelor pad, than this cozy little place. It felt warm, yet lived-in here. It felt…almost comfortable.
Homey.
Homey and Larry Mackenzie?
Now those were two thoughts she never imagined going together.
They carried the box for the crib into the guest room. Again, the room didn’t fit Mia’s mental picture of what Mac should have. It had a quilt on a double bed, and old family photos decorating the walls.
There was even a sampler.
Mia would have liked a chance to study all these bits and pieces of Mac, but she couldn’t figure out why she’d want to. His house might not be what she’d imagined it to be, but that didn’t mean Mac wasn’t the most annoying human she’d ever met.
“I’ll just leave you to it,” she said and hurried back to the baby. She freed Katie from the car seat while Mac went to work on the crib.
“I love your hair, sweetie,” she cooed, toying with a tiny little ringlet. “Men have a thing for redheads.”
“They like blondes too,” Mac said.
Mia looked up and saw Mac standing at the bottom of the stairway.
The man moved like a cat.
“What are you doing now?” she asked, ignoring his comment on blondes.
“Going for some tools. But I hate to have you lie to the baby. Some men do have a thing for redheads, but some of us prefer blondes.”
“I…” Mia didn’t know what to say to a statement like that.
If it was any other man in the world, she’d think he was flirting with her. But Mac didn’t like her any more than she liked him, so she was sure it wasn’t flirting.
“Stop lurking and finish up. It’s going on eight. I need to get home and you need to get this baby into bed.”
Mac glanced at his watch, as if he didn’t believe she could tell time. “I can’t believe it’s this late already.”
He walked through the room and into the kitchen. She could hear a door open and then the sound of his footsteps on stairs.
“What do you think of him?” she asked the baby.
Katie gurgled a response and stiffened.
“Oh, you want to stand up, do you?” Mia held the baby under her arms and Katie pushed herself up. “It won’t be long until you’re toddling all over the place. I wonder if you’re crawling yet?”
She looked at the pile of shopping bags Mac had brought in.
“I know we bought a couple blankets,” she told Katie. Still holding the baby, she dug through the bags and found one. “Here you go.”
She laid it on the floor and placed Katie on it. Then put a few of her new toys down as well, just a little out of reach. The baby crept right up to them.
“Well, look at that. You do crawl,” Mia said with a laugh, just as Mac came back into the room.
“She crawls,” she told him.
“Yeah?” He knelt down beside Mia, close, but not quite touching her.
“Watch.” She moved a few of the toys farther away and Katie immediately inched her way toward them.
They both admired her progress. His hand draped carelessly over Mia’s shoulder, as if he was using her to prop himself up. She snuck a peek. His eyes were glued to the baby’s movements, a slight smile played on his lips.
The moment felt special…almost intimate.
The thought shook Mia. So she leaned over and picked up Katie and wrinkled her nose.
“Have you ever changed a diaper before?” she asked Mac.
He clutched the toolbox as if it were a shield. “No, but that’s okay, you go ahead. I’ll just go set up her crib so we can take you to your car.”
“Oh, no. I’m supposed to help you get settled. What are you going to do when I’m not here? I don’t have to be an expert to know that babies need changing…a lot.”
Mac looked as if she’d told him he was about to face a firing squad. Mia couldn’t contain a small chuckle. “Come on, you need to learn.”
“I’ll just watch this time. Then I can figure it out later.”
“No, I’ll watch while you figure it out.”
“I uh…”
“Put down the toolbox and come here.”
Mac complied, but with obvious reluctance. Slowly, he sat on the floor next to her and stared at the baby as if she were some wild, dangerous animal.
Mia dug out a diaper and a box of wipes they’d just bought. “Here, start with these.”
Mac straightened his shoulders and looked determined. “I deal with complex legal issues and distraught clients all day. I can learn to do this.”
Mia held back her smile as he diapered the baby with all the seriousness of a lawyer giving a closing argument.
“Now, just use those little tapes to hold it in place,” she said as he finished.
“It’s not tape, it’s Velcro,” he said as he finished with flourish. “There. One happily diapered baby.”
“Velcro?” Mia said. “Back in my day, it was tape. Now, I’m feeling old.”
He gave a little scoff. “You’re not old.”
“I didn’t say I was, Larry. I just said I felt old. Now, you, you’re old.”
He shot her a look. “You make me sound ancient.”
“Aren’t you?” she asked, grinning.
“Thirty isn’t exactly ancient.”
“Thirty. My, my, my.” She clutched a hand to her chest. “You’re almost beyond ancient.”
“And just how old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty-seven.”
Twenty-seven and finally ready to start living. She was going to fulfill all her dreams—as soon as she settled on just what they were. No matter what, she was free to pursue them all. She clung to the thought a moment and savored it.
“I can see how those three years make a difference.”
“A big, huge, difference.” She laughed.
He looked at the baby and said, “She’s crazy, you know that already, don’t you? Sure you do. I can tell what a bright girl you are, Katie-did.”
Katie gurgled her response.
“I think she said girls stick together, and you’re the crazy one,” Mia said. “But even though we doubt your sanity, you are officially capable of diapering an infant.”
“Thanks for the help,” he said. “After that diaper, I think I can handle anything.”
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