The Father of Her Child (The Baby Bet #3) Read online

  Did she have a family who would be showing up to help her unpack, move furniture, set this mess to rights? Hell, what difference did it make? It was really none of his business.

  After Pete and Jake disappeared, Hannah stood with one hand on the doorknob.

  “Good day, Mr. Sharpe,” she said, lifting her chin.

  Ted dragged one hand through his already sleep-tousled hair, then started slowly forward, finally stopping in front of Hannah. He looked directly into her eyes, realizing they were so dark he could hardly discern the pupils.

  “Look,” he said, “I apologize for storming in here and yelling my head off. Exhaustion is no excuse for being…um…”

  “Rude,” Hannah supplied.

  “Yeah, okay, I was rude, and I’m sorry.”

  Hannah sighed. “Well, I’m not without fault, Mr. Sharpe. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by this move, the mess, the general confusion of it all. I’ve found that by playing an upbeat tune on the piano, I can often gather myself together.

  “I’ve been living in a house, and I now realize that apartment dwelling is going to require some changes in my behavior. I’m sorry that I woke you.”

  “Let’s start over, shall we?” Ted extended his hand. “Hello, Ms. Doodle, I’m Ted Sharpe, your neighbor. Would you like to borrow a cup of sugar?”

  Hannah smiled, then tentatively raised her hand to place it in Ted’s.

  “Hello, Ted,” she said, her smile fading. “Thank you for the offer, but I have sugar somewhere in this disaster area.”

  Dear heaven, she thought, Ted Sharpe was even better looking up close than from across the room. She’d never seen such blue eyes, and they were framed by long, blond lashes. He had tiny lines by those incredible eyes, created from squinting against the California sun, or maybe from smiling that knock-’em-dead smile of his.

  His hand was big and warm, so very warm, and the heat was traveling up her arm and across her breasts. That chest…so broad, tanned and beautifully muscled. The hair there caused her fingertips to tingle with the urge to touch, then weave, through the enticing curls.

  Oh, Hannah, she admonished herself. What on earth is the matter with you? Retrieve your hand. Right now!

  She started to remove her hand from Ted’s, only to have him tighten his hold enough to keep it firmly in his.

  The beautiful Ms. Doodle, he thought. Hannah. It was an old-fashioned name and it suited her perfectly. She really was as lovely as a cameo picture, with her dark, dark eyes and hair, and her skin that would feel, he just somehow knew, like ivory velvet when he caressed it.

  When? his mind echoed. Whoa, Sharpe, hold it right there. The last thing Ted needed in his life was to get involved with a woman who was going to have a baby in a few months. He kept his social scene uncomplicated; easy come, easy go. And he only dated women who played the game by those rules.

  Yes, Hannah Johnson was enchanting.

  No, he wasn’t going to do more than say hello to her if they happened to pass each other in the hall.

  “May I have my hand back now, please?” Hannah said quietly.

  “Your what?” Ted blinked. “Oh, your hand.” He released it quickly, as though it had suddenly become a hot potato. He glanced around the cluttered room. “When I moved into this building, I had the movers put my furniture in place. Your buddies Pete and Jake shouldn’t have left things like this.”

  “That was our agreement. They gave me two estimates for the move. I took the less expensive one, which means they brought in my belongings and plunked them down.”

  “Is your family coming over to help you get squared away?”

  “I have no family, Mr…Ted, but several of my friends will be here after school to pitch in.”

  “School?”

  Summer vacation is over and classes started today, but I’m on leave for this school year. I taught music appreciation at an elementary school.”

  Ted nodded. “I see. I bet those little kids could really belt out ‘Yankee Doodle.’”

  “They certainly could,” she said, laughing.

  Oh, hell, Ted thought, that cooked it. Hannah’s laughter was like tinkling bells. A coiling heat steadily built low in his body. He had to get out of here and safely back to his own bed.

  “Well, it sounds like you’re all set,” he said, “so I’ll go catch some more z’s. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Doodle, once we got past the war.”

  Hannah raised her right hand. “I solemnly swear I won’t play the piano for the remainder of the afternoon.”

  “My tired body will certainly appreciate that. I’ll see ya.”

  Ted left the apartment, strode down the hall to his own and hurried inside.

  Hannah stood in her doorway until Ted disappeared, then continued to stand there, staring at the empty hallway.

  A swift kick from the baby caused her to jerk in surprise, come out of her somewhat hazy state and step back into the living room. She closed the door, turned to survey the clutter, then allowed herself to execute a long, weary sigh.

  “Well, Ms. Doodle,” she said aloud, “unpack a box, or two, or three. Oh, ugh.”

  She started across the room, but changed her direction and went to the piano, gently lowering the cover over the keys. She shifted her gaze to the wall separating her apartment from Ted’s.

  “Sleep well, Officer Sharpe,” she said, saluting the wall.

  Smiling, she took the lid off the nearest box.

  Late that night, Hannah turned off the small lamp on the nightstand next to her bed, then shifted into a more comfortable position beneath the, blankets. As she closed her eyes with a weary sigh, her hands floated upward to rest on her stomach.

  “Good night, little one,” she whispered.

  As though hearing the softly spoken words, the baby moved, then stilled.

  So tired, Hannah thought. Oh, goodness, she was exhausted. Even with the help of four friends from school, getting the apartment into a livable condition had been very hard work. There were still boxes to unpack, but she’d run out of energy and had finally quit for the day.

  Her friends had been wonderful, pitching in like troopers and moving the furniture into place. One of the women had discovered the box of linens, then had made up Hannah’s bed, stating it would be ready and waiting for Hannah to climb into.

  They’d sent out for pizza for dinner, insisting that Hannah take a break and put her feet up. The two men had toted the emptied packing boxes down to the Dumpster, and except for a half-dozen small cartons, her home was in order.

  Home.

  This was it. This medium-size, two-bedroom apartment was now her home. Oh, how quickly her life had changed, falling apart and shattering hopes and dreams for the future, as well as the trust and belief in the man she’d vowed to love until death parted them.

  A man she’d never really known at all.

  A man who turned out to be far, far different than who he presented himself to be when they had married over two years ago.

  “Go to sleep, Hannah,” she told herself.

  She’d get an energy-restoring night’s sleep and wake up in the morning refreshed in mind and body. Wake up in her new home.

  While Hannah’s friends had been there, everything had been dandy. They were busy working, laughing, talking. The teachers had shared the tales of woe of the first day back at school.

  But finally they’d gone, each hugging her, saying they’d see her soon, that they would keep in constant touch.

  And then it had been so quiet.

  Exhaustion had swept over Hannah like a heavy cloak, accompanied by the silence that seemed to have an oppressive weight of its own.

  She’d taken the lid off a box, stared at the contents as though she’d never seen them before in her life, then thrown up her hands in defeat.

  After a warm bath, she’d gone to bed, the soft pillow feeling heavenly as she lowered her head onto it. It was her familiar pillow, her bed, her sheets and blankets.

  But how long w
ould it be until this place really felt like her home?

  “Attitude, Hannah,” she said to the darkness. “It’s all in the attitude.”

  The apartment was cheery, with sunny rooms that were spacious enough to hold the furniture she’d kept. The piano was polished and ready for her to give private lessons to her young students.

  She’d shop tomorrow for more food for the cupboards, unpack the last of the boxes, and everything would be shipshape.

  She could start to make plans for the baby’s nursery that would occupy the now-empty second bedroom. That would be fun, exciting.

  Heavens, she even had a gorgeous hunk of man as a neighbor. She could gawk at him if she happened to see him in the elevator or hallway.

  Ted Sharpe, she mused, smiling. How many women had a half-naked, drop-dead handsome man show up in their living room the day they moved into their new apartment? No, no, half-dressed, to quote Officer Sharpe.

  And that was another thing to be grateful for. She had a policeman living right next door in case a band of thieves tried to break in. How lucky could a woman alone get?

  A woman alone.

  Oh, dear, Hannah thought, she mustn’t dwell on that while she was so tired. She’d frighten herself to death if she gave further thought to going through the remainder of her pregnancy, the birth of the baby, then raising the child, all alone.

  Facts were facts. She was alone. She was twenty-five years old, divorced, pregnant and alone. So be it. She and this baby she loved and wanted with every breath in her body would be all right. Whatever came along, she would handle it, one day at a time.

  Two tears slid down Hannah’s cheeks and she dashed them away angrily. She was overtired, that was all. Overtired and momentarily overwhelmed by everything. She was going to sleep. Right now.

  “I’m trying, Gran,” she whispered with a wobbly little sob. “I’ll be fine tomorrow. Yes, in the morning there will be daffodils and daisies.”

  Chapter Two

  Ted and his partner, Ryan, had the next two days off, then they would go on a three-week duty shift of straight days, meaning their working hours would match those of an average businessman.

  While Ryan MacAllister eagerly anticipated the rotation of duty that brought him straight days so he could spend more time with his family, Ted Sharpe saw it as a ticket to the busy social life he enjoyed.

  The two men led lives that were at opposite ends of the poles, yet had been close friends for many years. The endless hours they spent together cruising the streets of Ventura in their patrol car had resulted in many intimate conversations on topics they wouldn’t consider sharing with anyone else.

  There was also the special bond between them formed from the knowledge that each would risk his life for the other if the need arose in the line of duty. Their friendship, therefore, went even deeper than most brothers’.

  When Ted left his apartment in the early morning, he glanced at Hannah Johnson’s door as he passed it, idly wondering if her teacher friends had shown up as promised to give her a hand straightening out the mess in her apartment.

  Ms. Doodle had been good on her word. No further piano playing had disturbed Ted’s sleep the previous day, and he’d awakened refreshed.

  As he rode down in the elevator, Ted frowned.

  Hannah must have been in a helluva rotten marriage, he thought, to get divorced while pregnant, then have to move and settle into a new place. He assumed she had divorced her husband, rather than the man divorcing her.

  Either way, Ted decided, the guy must be a real scum to have the situation end up for Hannah as it had. She was young, didn’t look more than twenty-four or twenty-five, and had said she had no family. That was rough, really rough.

  Ted dropped his laundry off at the establishment he always used, knowing it would be ready for him to pick up the next day.

  Ryan had razzed him unmercifully about being too lazy to wash his own socks and underwear. But Ted’s one attempt at tackling the chore had resulted in an entire wash emerging a strange shade of puce.

  After taking his uniforms to the cleaners used by many of the police officers, Ted headed for Ryan’s house. Today, they were scheduled to put the last touches on the redwood deck they’d built onto the back of the MacAllister home.

  During the drive to Ryan’s, Ted’s mind floated once again to Hannah Johnson. Did any of her teacher friends include her in their family celebrations? he wondered. Where did she spend Thanksgiving and Christmas? On her birthday, did someone bake her a cake?

  An even bigger question, Ted thought dryly, was why he was using his mental energies thinking about such stuff? Maybe it was because he was on his way to Ryan’s.

  The MacAllisters were a large family of warm, loving people, who considered Ted one of the clan. He, himself, was an only child, and his parents lived in a retirement community in Arizona. He managed to see them several times a year, and they had a good time whenever they got together.

  His mother was a gem. His father? Well, they did all right during short visits, but that special bond with his dad had been broken ever since…

  Ted automatically jerked his thoughts from the direction they were headed. He wouldn’t allow his mind to travel down that road.

  He was thinking about…Yes, okay, Ms. Doodle. She was a safe subject, as it might be weeks before he even saw her again, in the hallway or elevator.

  Did Hannah have a family, Ted’s thoughts continued, the way he did with the MacAllisters? Were there people who would take on the roles of aunts and uncles for her baby? Were there kids for her child to play with, grow up with?

  Ted chuckled. There was definitely a slew of kids bouncing around at the MacAllister gatherings.

  Michael, the oldest son, and his wife, Jenny, had a son, Bobby. Forrest MacAllister and his wife, Jillian, had triplet girls. Triplets. The adorable little girls had celebrated their first birthday a couple of weeks ago. Man, were they cute. And busy!

  Ryan’s sister, Andrea MacAllister, was married to John Stewart, and their twins, Noel and Matt, were always bundles of energy. And Ted’s partner, Ryan, and his wife, Deedee, had a son they’d named after Ted. Theodore Ryan MacAllister, called Teddy, would be a year old around Thanksgiving.

  Ted would never forget how proud, how touched he’d been, when Deedee and Ryan had announced they were naming their son after him. They had been convinced they were expecting a girl.

  But Forrest, The Baby Bet champion of the family, had declared that all pink rabbit toys would have to go on a shelf because Deedee was going to have a boy.

  And Forrest had never lost The Baby Bet.

  How did he do it? It was getting creepy, the way Forrest always won.

  Yeah, those MacAllisters were something special, including Margaret and Robert, the parents of the group. Did Hannah have a family like that who made her feel as though she belonged? Ted wondered.

  Hell, he didn’t know. And since Ryan’s house was just up ahead, he didn’t have to think about it any longer, nor wonder why he was dwelling on the subject at all.

  Ryan and Deedee MacAllister lived in a modest, three-bedroom ranch style home on a standard, subdivision-size lot. Robert MacAllister and sons Michael and Forrest, as well as daughter, Andrea, were architects, all of whom would have been delighted to design a made-to-order house for Ryan and Deedee.

  Ryan, however, had been adamant about their living on a policeman’s salary. Deedee had agreed, and the income from her store, Books and Books, was being invested for Teddy’s college education, as well as their emergency-only fund.

  Ted parked in the driveway, cut across the lawn to the front door and rang the bell. Deedee answered the summons with a smile.

  “Hi, Ted,” she said. “Come in.”

  He entered the house and immediately inhaled the delicious aroma of cinnamon.

  “Mmm,” he said. “Coffee cake?”

  “Your favorite kind. I just took it out of the oven.” Deedee laughed. “You’re wiggling your nose like a
pink rabbit.”

  “Hey, I’m a blue rabbit,” Ted said, following her across the living room. “Do you suppose there’s a contest we can enter Forrest in where we’d all make a bundle?”

  “That’s a thought,” she said. “He’s never lost The Baby Bet. I can remember when Michael said Forrest should be ‘unchampioned,’ but it hasn’t happened. Forrest is incredible.”

  “Yep.”

  The pair entered the sunny kitchen to find Ryan just about to slip Teddy into his high chair.

  “Whoa,” Ted said. “We have a tradition, you know. Teddy has to be an airplane before he has coffee cake. Right, sport? We always do our airplane bit.”

  “‘Pane,” the baby said, holding out his arms toward Ted.

  Ted took the baby from Ryan and held him high in the air while making roaring-engine noises. Teddy laughed in delight.

  Ryan smiled at them, then poured coffee into three mugs decorated with brightly colored butterflies. Ryan MacAllister was tall, nicely built, very good-looking and a dedicated police officer.

  When his first wife, Sherry, had been killed by a berserk gunman in the emergency room of the hospital where she worked, Ryan had quit the force and withdrawn from life for nearly two years.

  His love for Deedee had brought him out of his near solitude to once again embrace each new day. He’d rejoined the police force as Ted’s partner.

  “Zoom,” Ted said. “Ready to come in for a landing.” He settled Teddy in the high chair. The baby began to pound happily on the plastic tray. “I turned off your engine, sport. What do you need? Fuel? Me, too. It’s coffee cake time.”

  The coffee cake was served and Ted and Ryan discussed the final work to be done on the deck.

  “The deck is going to be great,” Deedee said. “We can sit out there, barbecue, watch Teddy tear around the yard. Thank you again, Ted, for helping Ryan build it.”

  “That’s about the fiftieth thank-you,” Ted said. “Hey, I enjoyed it. It sure was different making something that size after working on my miniatures.”

  “I can imagine,” Deedee said. “What kind of miniature are you carving now?”