Matchmaking Baby Read online

  “Unless it was the Immaculate Conception, that would be impossible.”

  It took a moment for her words to sink in. “You’re telling me that you and he…didn’t…”

  Joanie held up a hand. “Don’t look so smug.”

  “You were engaged to him.”

  Joanie shrugged and went back to smoothing Emily’s hair. “So?”

  “This proves you’re not over us any more than I am,” he asserted.

  “No, Steve,” Joanie said, angling her head up at him, “it proves I learn from my mistakes. Allowing myself to be seduced by the wrong man once makes me a fool. Allowing it to happen again with someone else makes me plain stupid, and I am not stupid. Besides, as you will undoubtedly find out if you investigate the matter at all, the timing isn’t right. I met Dylan just before I came to Bride’s Bay a little over a year and a half ago.”

  “Then she is our child.”

  “No—” Joanie rolled her eyes with exasperation

  “—she isn’t!”

  “Then how do you explain Emily’s being left on your doorstep with this note?” Steve returned calmly. “Is this why you were so furious with me? Why you didn’t return any of my calls and sent back all my letters unopened? Because you didn’t want me to know about our child? Or was it because you didn’t think I was up to the task of rearing a child with you?”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes. And I’ll show you.”

  Joanie lifted a brow. “And then what?”

  “And then I’ll have to understand why you never told me about something this important and forgive you your mistake.”

  “Suppose I don’t want to be forgiven?” Joanie asked hypothetically, as she speared him with another frank look.

  Steve studied her, his frustration growing by leaps and bounds. “You’re not making this easy, are you?”

  “I suppose I’m not.” And for that she offered no apology.

  They stared at each other in silence.

  “There’s something I need to know,” Steve said finally.

  Joanie kept her eyes on his. “And that is?”

  Drawing on every ounce of compassion he had, Steve asked, “Why did you give Emily to Fiona, rather than raise her yourself? Why didn’t you give her to me?”

  Joanie paused in the act of smoothing Emily’s tousled blond curls and gave him another wary look. “Listen to me, Steve, and pay attention. I did not abandon Emily.”

  He regarded her incredulously, watching as Emily cuddled against Joanie contentedly. “Then everyone here knows you’re a single mother?”

  A pale wash of color, the same pink as her blouse, highlighted Joanie’s cheeks. “Of course not! Everyone here knows I am both single and childless.”

  Steve knitted his brow, his patience gone. “And yet…Emily just called you Mama.”

  The wash of color on Joanie’s cheeks deepened. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Joanie protested, but even as she spoke Emily was softly crooning her delight at being held and rubbing her face against the silk of Joanie’s blouse.

  Steve knew Joanie wanted him to back off. He wasn’t about to, not until he knew the truth. “She could identify a puppy. She knows how to tell us she wants to be picked up. She pointed to you and said what sounded like ‘Goo’ Mama.’ Sounds to me like she knows what she’s talking about,” he said plainly.

  “Obviously she was trying to tell us something else,” Joanie said. “Here, I’ll show you.” She ran her thumb gently across Emily’s cheek to get the little girl’s attention. “Emily, honey, where is your mommy?”

  To Joanie’s obvious dismay, Emily said nothing and rested her head on Joanie’s shoulder. She wreathed both her arms around Joanie’s neck and clung tightly.

  Steve studied the two of them. Never had there been a more perfect mother and child. Pictures like this didn’t lie. Nor did genetics or heredity. “You even look alike,” Steve said quietly, his heart swelling with joy at the possibility that he and Joanie might share a child. “You’ve got the same naturally curly golden blond hair, same long eyelashes, same stubborn chin and rosebud lips.”

  For a moment, Joanie’s eyes seemed to light up at his description of both of them, but to his disappointment, she quickly reined in her feelings. “You’re being ridiculous!”

  Was he? Steve wondered. Emily’s eyes were blue-gray. His were gray. Joanie’s were blue. Of course any child they had would have blue gray eyes and blond hair. And those curls—just like Joanie’s.

  Howard Forsythe, the security officer, came back. “No sign of anyone in a trench coat. Maybe if you could give us a better description. Hair color, build. Something else to go on,” he suggested.

  Steve noted dispassionately that Howard didn’t seem to find it unusual at all to see Joanie holding a baby in her arms.

  Ignoring Steve, Joanie looked at Howard. “The woman was of medium height. I think she had a medium build. The scarf covered her hair, but I could see her skin was very fair—I think. But again, it was at a distance.”

  “D’ink!” Emily demanded, tugging Joanie’s sleeve. “Em-lee, d’ink!”

  “All right, honey, we’ll get you something to drink,” Joanie said, patting the toddler on the back.

  “Em-lee hungee!”

  “And something to eat, too,” Joanie said. She looked at the security chief. “Do you have any idea what kids this age like to eat?” Joanie asked.

  Howard shrugged. “My wife, Catherine, always handles the menu selections for our kids. But someone in the hotel kitchen is bound to know.”

  What was going on here? Steve wondered. Was Howard in on this, too? Or just completely out of the loop of information?

  “All right, I’ll take her over there,” Joanie said purposefully. She shifted Emily to her other hip, then turned to face Steve. “Would you please leave a note on my door for this Fiona, telling her where I’ve taken her baby?”

  Steve grinned. “Determined to play this out until the bitter end, aren’t you?”

  “Just do it,” Joanie advised.

  She headed briskly toward the main building, Emily babbling all the while. Steve watched longingly until they were both out of sight.

  “WELL, WELL, what have we got here?” Columbia Hanes, the head chef said, as Joanie and Emily entered the hotel kitchen a few minutes later.

  At the stoves, half-a-dozen cooks were busy preparing the evening banquet for the mentoring conference. The fragrant smell of roast pork and corn-bread stuffing hung in the air. Homemade applesauce simmered on the stove, loaves of bread baked in the oven, and a variety of vegetables were being cleaned and chopped in preparation for cooking. In the glass-fronted refrigerator were several elegant desserts. Ice tea was cooling in large glass pitchers. Emily regarded all the activity with wide-eye amazement.

  Joanie looked down at the little girl. “This is Emily.”

  “And where did she come from?” Columbia asked, closing the distance between herself and Joanie.

  Emily shyly regarded the statuesque African-American woman. Noticing the miniature orchid pinned on the brim of Columbia’s tall white chef’s hat, she pointed to it and muttered something indecipherable.

  “A woman named Fiona seems to have left a baby in my care temporarily,” Joanie said. And that act had caused her all sorts of grief with Steve Lantz, because now he was making all sorts of assumptions. Assumptions that were bound to lead to even more trouble. Doing her best to hide her uneasiness over what Steve’s next move might be, Joanie handed the note to Columbia, figuring if anyone could help her make sense of it, Columbia could.

  “Who is this Fiona?” Columbia asked after she’d read the note and returned it to Joanie.

  Joanie shrugged as she shifted Emily to her other hip and pocketed the note. “I haven’t a clue. I was hoping you might have an idea.”

  But Columbia shook her head. “Sorry.”

  Emily smiled and gurgled as Steve came up behind Joanie. He was pushing the stroller, which had a di
aper bag slung over the back of it. “I thought you might need that,” he said by way of explanation.

  Joanie regarded Steve stoically, hoping he’d given up the notion that Emily was her daughter. “Did you leave a note on my door?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He chucked Emily on the chin, and the toddler looked at him and smiled happily. Columbia led them into the employee cafeteria, which was adjacent to the kitchen, and brought out one of the high chairs. Joanie tried to put Emily into it, but Emily clung to her neck and held her legs out stiff as boards, which made seating her impossible.

  “C’mon, honey,” Joanie coaxed. “Help us out here so we can get you something to eat.” With Steve’s help she managed to get Emily settled into the high chair. “Now. How about some milk?” Joanie asked, bending down to the lively toddler’s level. “Do you like milk, Emily?”

  Eyes huge, Emily nodded.

  While Joanie found a plastic cup and poured two inches of milk into it, Steve knelt down in front of Emily and kept her amused by walking his fingers across her tray.

  “I’ll fix her a grilled cheese sandwich,” Columbia said. “In the meantime, maybe she’d like some applesauce or tapioca pudding.”

  Joanie handed Steve the milk, then got out the apple sauce. She put some in a bowl, then sat down in front of Emily’s high chair and offered her a teaspoon of applesauce. Emily clamped her lips shut and shook her head.

  “You don’t like applesauce?”

  “Me do!” Emily pushed Joanie’s hand aside and reached for the spoon.

  “I think she wants to feed herself,” Steve said.

  Joanie met Steve’s eyes. She wasn’t sure that was such a good idea, but seeing as how Emily wasn’t going to let herself be fed, it didn’t look as if there was much choice. Reluctantly Joanie handed Emily the spoon and the bowl.

  Emily clutched the spoon in her right hand. She dug it in, brought it up to her mouth, spilling applesauce all over the tray and herself in the process, and got just a smidgen of what she had started out with into her mouth. Too late, Joanie realized what they’d forgotten. “I don’t suppose there’s a bib in that diaper bag,” she said.

  “I’ll look.” Steve swiftly retrieved the bag and rummaged through it. “Nope,” he said finally. “Just clean clothes, diapers, sunscreen and a hat. Plus a blanket and a teddy bear.”

  Seeing her bear and blanket, Emily dropped the spoon. It clattered as it hit the tray. “Blankie!” she shouted. “Bear!”

  Joanie knew a godsend when she saw one. She wet a clean cloth and wiped Emily’s hands, face, the front of her clothes and the tray, then handed over the bear and blankie. “Would you like to hold these, Emily?” Joanie asked, pulling the tray forward, to give Emily a little more room.

  “She’s going to get food all over them,” Steve predicted as he pulled up a chair, turned it around and sank onto it.

  “Not if I feed her while she holds them, she won’t,” Joanie said.

  Steve grinned. “Good point.” He folded his arms across the back of the chair as Joanie draped the blanket across Emily’s lap and placed the teddy bear next to her.

  Emily clutched her blanket with one hand and cuddled up to her teddy bear, looking as if she was in seventh heaven to have her things so close. Joanie got a clean teaspoon, since the handle on the first one was all sticky, and dished up another bite of applesauce. With both her hands full, Joanie figured Emily would not mind being fed. Wrong again.

  “No,” Emily said, dropping her stranglehold on her bear and blanket. “Me do!”

  “Emily, I’m going to feed you the applesauce,” Joanie said firmly.

  Emily shook her head.

  Joanie held the spoon to her lips.

  Emily batted it away with an earsplitting screech.

  The spoon clattered to the tray and then fell on her blanket, spraying applesauce everywhere.

  “Told you so,” Steve whispered in Joanie’s ear.

  Joanie’s pulse picked up as the familiar scent of Steve’s cologne tantalized her senses. She drew a stabilizing breath and turned to face him, just as Columbia Hanes swooped in to the rescue with a perfectly prepared grilled cheese sandwich, cut into tiny pieces. She set it in front of Emily. “Here you go, lovey. Grilled cheese.”

  Emily smiled. Obviously, Joanie thought, they’d hit on something familiar to the little girl. Forgetting for a moment about the applesauce, Emily scooped up a bite of sandwich and brought it clumsily to her mouth. She chewed on it, then grabbed another, happy at last. “Looks like we got a hit on our hands,” Steve said.

  “Thanks, Columbia,” Joanie added.

  The chef grinned. “If you all don’t mind, I’m going back to the kitchen and my dinner preparations.”

  “No problem. I’m sure we can handle it,” Joanie replied. Columbia bustled off.

  Silence fell. Joanie noted that although their chairs were facing different directions, she and Steve were sitting side by side, directly in front of Emily’s high chair-close enough for Joanie to feel the heat emanating from him. It was a disturbingly intimate sensation.

  Steve turned to look at Joanie. “Once she’s fed, then what?”

  “I don’t know.” Joanie shrugged, wishing she knew more about children; she’d have liked to be able to show off for him. Instead, she’d never felt so at a loss. “My duties as concierge here have included a lot of unusual things…”

  His grin was enough to light a thousand inner fires. “Such as?” he prompted.

  Joanie shrugged, surprised to find herself feeling a little shy. That wasn’t like her at all. “I once walked a guest’s peacock on a leash at two every morning for the week he was here.”

  “I hope he tipped you well.”

  “He did.”

  Joanie watched as Emily accidentally knocked a square of grilled cheese off her tray. She reached down to get it, then found, as her fingers closed around the piece of food, that her face was only inches from his knee. She moved back slowly, trying not to notice how snugly his jeans fit his long, muscled legs.

  “What else?” he asked after she’d tossed the piece of sandwich into the trash.

  Aware that her skirt had hiked up well above her knees, Joanie tugged it down. “I arranged for a flower sculpture of wedding bells for a couple’s honeymoon, and then had to come up with a flower sculpture every day thereafter to commemorate each day of their honeymoon.”

  Steve smiled. “Do you like your job here?”

  Joanie looked at Emily, who was still munching contentedly on her sandwich. “Very much. All the other hotels I’ve worked at have been much bigger, but the staff here feels like family.”

  Liz strode in from the doorway of the cafeteria. She wound her way through several tables and chairs to their side. “Is what security told me true, Joanie? Someone named Fiona abandoned this little girl on your doorstep?”

  Joanie showed her the note. Liz perused it carefully, her expression perplexed.

  “Maybe Fiona thinks this falls within my duties as concierge,” Joanie said. “You know how some people push the limits.”

  “Maybe.” Liz frowned. “Do we have someone named Fiona staying with us now?”

  “Not now. In fact, I can’t recall any Fiona at all, in the year and a half I’ve been working here,” Joanie said. “Though I’d have to check the computer records to be sure.”

  Emily had finished her cheese sandwich and was gesturing for her applesauce again. Joanie cleared away the empty plate and handed Emily her bowl and spoon.

  “Howard also said Emily was pointing to you and calling you Mama,” Liz continued.

  “I think she was just admiring my gold pin and talking about or asking us for her mama,” Joanie theorized.

  “You have a point there,” Liz mused. “I’ve been around my nieces and nephews enough to realize that at this age kids don’t have much of a vocabulary.”

  Steve nodded. “No doubt there’s a lot Emily would like to tell us.”

  Realizing full well what St
eve was implying, Joanie shot him a sharp look. Liz glanced from Joanie to Steve and back again, probably putting clues together rapidly, Joanie thought. Unfortunately those clues would be leading her to the wrong conclusion.

  Joanie needed to prevent Liz from making any assumptions. “Look, it’s obvious that Emily has been well cared for. Because if she hadn’t been, well, we’d see signs of it. Therefore, I have to believe in my heart that this Fiona, whoever she is, will be in touch with me as she promised in the letter, and that she’ll come back for Emily as soon as she can. In the meantime, I’ll just wait to hear.”

  “So you don’t want to call social services just yet?” Liz asked.

  “Oh, no. Heavens no,” Joanie said quickly. Just the thought of turning cute little Emily over to some nameless, faceless bureaucrat alarmed her. “We don’t want Emily shuffled around from place to place unnecessarily. Particularly if Fiona does come back soon, as I suspect she will.”

  “Well,” Liz said with a sigh, “if you don’t mind taking care of her until the woman does show up…”

  “It’ll be no problem,” Joanie said, meaning it. She loved children, always had.

  “Then I’ll talk to your assistant and ask him to see that the concierge desk is covered the rest of the evening. Jerry’ll take care of it, I’m sure. In addition, I suppose we better get a crib over to your quarters,” Liz decided. “Steve, since you aren’t busy, if you wouldn’t mind…”

  “No problem,” Steve said, getting to his feet before Joanie could make even a token protest. He grinned down at Emily and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “If you’ll just show me where—”

  “Shampoo!” Emily said merrily, smearing applesauce in her hair before anyone could stop her.

  “Oh, no,” Joanie murmured as Emily got a second glob, added it to the first and swirled it around her halo of curls. Giggling, she picked up her spoon and flung it around. Applesauce flew off, hitting both Joanie and Steve, as well as her tray and face. Amused by her antics, Emily giggled again.

  “You know, Joanie, I think our little Emily here is finished eating,” Steve remarked, using a napkin to wipe some of the applesauce off the front of his jeans.