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

Ted shrugged. “I wasn’t in the mood.” He paused. “Do you think I’m too young for a mid-life crisis?”

  “Beats me. I don’t think every guy has one. You know, it’s not a given, like women going through the change of life. Then again, there are some experts who say men definitely have a sort of mid-life-change thing, too. Hell, I really don’t know.”

  “You’re a lot of help.”

  “Why the question?”

  “It’s not that big a deal. It’s just that lately I’ve felt restless, kind of edgy. In the past, I never had trouble filling idle hours. In fact, I didn’t seem to have enough time to do everything I wanted to. Now? I’m flat, dulled-out. I decide to do something, then realize I really don’t want to. It’s weird.”

  “Not good, buddy,” Ryan answered. “It sounds like how I felt toward the end of owning MacAllister Security Systems. I have to give you credit, though, for being in touch with yourself and knowing something is off-kilter. I denied it far longer than I should have.”

  “Yeah, well, it turned out all right. You’re back where you belong, being a cop.”

  “You’re not getting bored on the force, are you?”

  “No, no, the job is fine,” Ted reassured him. “No problem there. It’s my leisure time that’s suddenly tripping me up.”

  “You seemed okay at the mall when we were getting Teddy’s dog. Scooter is nuts, by the way. She bounces like a pogo stick when she’s excited about something. She goes straight up in the air. Teddy thinks she’s great. I’ve never seen a dog bounce like that.”

  Ted chuckled as he envisioned the bouncing beagle.

  “Anyway, back at the mall,” Ryan said, “you were loose, relaxed, your usual self. Or were you faking it?”

  “No, I enjoyed myself. Before you called, though, I was pacing the floor.”

  “And after you went home?”

  “I had a good time at Hannah’s because of Daisy but—” Ted stopped speaking and inwardly groaned.

  Damn, he’d had no intention of revealing the fact that he’d bought a kitten for Hannah. Ryan would razz him to no end, he just knew it. He’d make a simple thing like buying a new neighbor a welcoming gift into a major man-woman event. Oh, hell, Ted didn’t need the hassle he was about to get.

  “Hannah is your new neighbor, Ms. Doodle,” Ryan said. “But who’s Daisy?”

  “The kitten I bought Hannah at the mall after you left,” Ted said. Gear up, Sharpe. Here it comes.

  “Oh.”

  A few seconds ticked by, then a few more, but Ryan kept silent.

  “Okay, MacAllister,” Ted said. “Spit it out before you blow a fuse.”

  Ryan glanced over at him. “Spit what out?”

  “I bought Hannah a kitten. Okay? Fine. What would you expect me to do? Bake her a cake? She was having a problem feeling like the apartment was home. You know what I mean? I figured the kitten would be there, greet her, be company for her, make the place more homey.”

  “Oh.”

  “She was really tickled with the kitten. She got tears in her eyes, but said pregnant women are very emotional. A volleyball is five months along, by the way. Her baby is due New Year’s Day.”

  Ryan nodded. “Oh.”

  “She named the kitten Daisy to represent the daf-fodils-and-daisies theory her gran taught her. Her grandmother raised her because her parents were killed when she was three. Whenever Hannah was bummed, her gran would say that tomorrow would be sunny and bring her daffodils and daisies. Nice, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So she named the kitten Daisy because she felt the little bugger would make her days sunnier, and make the apartment seem more like a home. I called it exactly right and I was glad, I really was. Hannah just lit up and her eyes sparkled. There. That’s it. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  “Okay.”

  Ted drummed the fingers of one hand on his knee. “You’re getting on my nerves, MacAllister.”

  Ryan swallowed a burst of laughter, then stiffened. “Heads up. That joker is going at least thirty-five in a fifteen.”

  Ryan started the engine, turned on the lights and siren and pulled out into the street in pursuit of the speeding vehicle.

  That evening after Teddy was in bed, Ryan related the story of Hannah and Daisy to Deedee. Rain pelted the windows and thunder roared across the heavens.

  “Very interesting,” Deedee said, tapping one fingertip against her chin. “Ted was defensive about buying the kitten for Hannah?”

  “Like a hostile witness on the stand. I really got under his skin because I reacted as though he were talking about the weather. Ready for this? Ted thinks he might be having a mid-life crisis.”

  “Oh, dear,” she said, smiling. “What he’s having is an attraction to a lady who is far removed from the type of woman with whom he usually associates. Oh, Ryan, his buying Hannah that kitten is the sweetest thing. And I adore the daffodils-and-daisies story. Hannah sounds like she’s absolutely lovely.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mention any of this to Ted if I were you. He’s very touchy about the subject of Hannah Johnson, aka Ms. Doodle.”

  “You’d better keep me posted on all of this, Ryan MacAllister.”

  “I will, but if I come home strangled, it’s because Officer Theodore Sharpe is a tad hard to live with right now.”

  “Oh, you poor baby,” she said, slipping onto his lap. “Do you need some tender loving care?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “A whole lot of TLC.”

  Ryan captured Deedee’s lips with his. No more words were spoken for a long, long time.

  Ted sat in front of the long table that covered one wall of the second bedroom in his apartment. As he slowly and carefully sanded one of the minuscule rungs that would be part of the miniature cradle he was making, he hummed along with the country-western music playing on the stereo in the living room.

  On the opposite wall was a glass-fronted cabinet which held about two dozen small pieces of furniture he’d made over the past months.

  A bookcase next to it contained tools, brushes, a variety of paints and stains and several stacks of woodworking books and magazines.

  Earlier in the evening, he’d begun reading the latest book he’d purchased at Deedee’s store, an instruction manual for constructing a dollhouse.

  As Ted worked, he smiled, realizing that if he built the house and eventually filled it with handcrafted furniture, it would never leave this room.

  Nope, he thought. One furnished dollhouse wouldn’t cut it when he considered how many little MacAllister girls there were.

  And what about the boys? They’d expect something made especially for them by their uncle Ted, too. No, the dollhouse and furniture would remain right there. He’d give the MacAllister munchkins visitation rights.

  His smiled faded and he sighed.

  Uncle Ted. Ted Sharpe, Professional Uncle Extraordinaire, that’s who he was. Not a father, just an uncle. Not an everyday part of those kids’ lives, just a drop-in entity. Out of sight, out of mind. And all the MacAllisters assumed that was the way he wanted it.

  Damn it, Sharpe, he admonished himself. Knock it off. His life was structured just fine the way it was. He had the best of both worlds; the family scene when the mood struck, the singles scene the remainder of the time.

  He came and went as he pleased, and had no major responsibilities, no worries or woes. He was sitting pretty, doing great.

  Or so he’d believed until the last week or so.

  He’d been off the mark, feeling weird, strange, not like himself at all. Restless, edgy, wired, he couldn’t get a handle on what was wrong.

  It was like…yeah, like people who came home, moved through their house and didn’t realize for an hour or more that the television had been ripped off. They were so used to it being there, that it took a while for it to sink in that it was missing.

  Missing.

  Ted set the sandpaper and cradle rung on the table and stared int
o space.

  Missing. Something was missing from his life, his day-to-day existence. Well, hell, what a lousy conclusion to come to as to why he was out of sorts. His life as it stood had suited him just dandy for many years.

  Why would it suddenly seem as if something was missing?

  If this was his mid-life crisis, Ted sure as hell hoped it wouldn’t last long. He wasn’t accustomed to being bummed-out, mentally listless, physically dragging through the days, tossing and turning at night.

  Uncle Ted.

  No, damn it, not being married, not having children, was not the source of his dilemma.

  Ted got to his feet and left the room, smacking the light switch off as he passed. Shoving his hands into the back pockets of his faded jeans, he wandered around the living room, a frown on his face. In the background, Vince Gill crooned about loneliness.

  Okay, Sharpe, get it together, he told himself. Analyze the situation.

  He was single. He liked it that way. He had kids who clambered all over him whenever he visited them. That was the end of that story.

  Women. He had plenty of women to pick from…every age, shape, size, career and IQ imaginable. Plenty of women. Check. No problem.

  Career. Set. A-OK. He was doing exactly what he wanted to do. And he was a damn good cop.

  Friends. He had great friends, true and loyal friends.

  Money. No sweat. He lived well, had a healthy retirement portfolio growing steadily and didn’t do without anything he really wished to have.

  “So what in the hell is missing?” he said aloud, pulling his hands free and flinging out his arms.

  Before the discussion between Ted and Ted could continue, a boom of thunder crashed overhead and in the next moment the lights went out.

  “Well, hell,” Ted said.

  He stood statue-still, planting his hands on his hips as he waited for his eyes to adapt to the inky darkness. When he could see well enough to move, he made his way into the kitchen and retrieved a flashlight from the drawer designated for odds and ends.

  With the bright beam of light ahead of him, he went to the sofa, slouched onto it and flicked off the flashlight. In the next instant, he turned it back on and lunged to his feet.

  Ms. Doodle, he thought. Did Hannah have a flashlight? Candles? Had that extremely loud thunder frightened her?

  Could she remember where all her furniture was placed so she could find a flashlight, if she had one, without falling over something?

  What if she hurt herself? Or the baby? Or stepped on Daisy and smashed the kitten flat?

  Hannah could be in trouble over there! Ted realized. He’d better go find out if she was all right. Yes, it was his duty as a police officer to leap into action in a single bound at the slightest hint of potential disaster or possible danger.

  “Sharpe, you’re so corny,” he said, shaking his head in self-disgust. “Just shut up and go see if Han-pnh is okay.”

  The hallway was pitch-black and Ted’s flashlight cast eerie shadows beyond its bright circle of light. The thunder continued to rumble and roar as it rolled across the sky.

  At Hannah’s apartment, he knocked sharply.

  “Hannah?” he called. “It’s Ted.”

  Nothing.

  He leaned his ear against the door, silently cursing the noisy thunder. Straightening, he pounded his fist on the door.

  “Hannah?”

  Nothing.

  Ted’s heart began to race, as well as his imagination.

  Why didn’t she answer? Was she hurt, unable to get to the door? He could kick in the door. Or maybe he should make his way down the back stairs to the ground floor, find the manager’s apartment and drag the guy up here with the master key.

  Yeah, he’d have to use the stairway because the elevator wouldn’t be working.

  Ted stiffened, beads of sweat dotting his forehead.

  The elevator!

  Lord, what if Hannah was stuck in the elevator?

  Maybe she’d gone out to dinner with some of her teacher friends, saw the ominous clouds building in the sky and headed for home. Then the storm broke before she arrived at the complex, and she hurried inside but was already drenched as she entered the elevator. Halfway to the fourth floor…blam…no electricity…!

  Hannah could be cold and wet, held captive in a dark cage…terrified!

  He had to call the police!

  “Damn it,” Ted said. “I am the police.”

  Sharpe, slow down, he ordered himself. He wasn’t behaving to form at all. He didn’t usually go off the deep end, panic, automatically think the worst.

  He was an in-control officer of the law who approached each new situation he encountered with a swift and analytical appraisal of what needed to be done.

  Ted splayed one hand on his heart, took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly.

  There. He was fine now calm, cool and collected. Right? Right.

  In the next instant Ted began to beat on Hannah’s door again with his fist.

  “Hannah! Hannah, are you in there? It’s Ted. Say something. Anything. Speak to me.”

  “Ted?” came a muffled reply.

  “Oh, thank God.” He leaned his forehead against the door.

  “Ted?”

  He lifted his head. “Yeah, I’m here. Can you get to the door?”

  “I’m trying to, but…ow!”

  “Ow?” he yelled. “Why ow?” What happened? Are you hurt?”

  He heard the faint sound of the safety chain rattling, then the lock being unsnapped. The door was opened slowly, no more than three inches. Ted raised the flashlight and saw Hannah’s tilted head, giving him a rather lopsided view of her eyes.

  “Let me in,” he said.

  “Lower the flashlight.”

  “What?”

  “Ted, I’d just gotten out of the shower when the lights went out. I’m wrapped in a towel. I made my way to the linen cupboard where I’d put the flashlight, but the batteries were dead.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have candles in the kitchen drawer, but I’ve stubbed my toe twice already trying to get there. I’d really appreciate your finding my candles for me, but could you shine the light on the floor, please? I’m not exactly dressed to receive company.”

  “Oh. Sure.”

  Ted did as instructed with the beam of light as he entered the apartment, deciding absently that Hannah had cute toes as he directed the light on her feet.

  She closed the door and locked it.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Thank you for thinking of me. I’m being childish, I know, but it was so dark and I was bumping into things and…”

  “Ah, Hannah,” he said. “I was so damn worried about you.”

  Before he realized he was moving, Ted wrapped his arms around Hannah and pulled her close, feeling the damp towel and the slope of her stomach. The beam of light was directed toward the ceiling.

  Hannah encircled his waist with her arms and leaned her head on his chest, the towel tucked into itself between her breasts.

  Ted inhaled her aroma of flowers and soap, savoring it. He was acutely aware of her breasts pressing against his chest and felt a hot surge of heat low in his body.

  Hannah’s protruding stomach, with her baby was safely nestled inside, was, to his startled amazement, extremely sensuous. She was the epitome of womanliness, of femininity.

  Ah, Hannah, his mind hummed. She was safe, nothing had happened to her, she was all right. Ted was holding her fast and wasn’t going to let her go. He would protect her from harm. She was so fragile, delicate and vulnerable…and so was her precious baby. And the part of Hannah that was pure woman was sending Ted up in flames of desire.

  Hannah closed her eyes, relishing the strength of Ted’s powerful body. He was so strong, so mascu-line, so…so there.

  She’d been frightened, afraid she’d fall over a piece of furniture and hurt the baby. Icy fear had clutched her heart, causing unshed tears
to sting her eyes and close her throat. She’d been so alone in the dark, so terribly alone.

  But now Ted was here.

  For this stolen moment out of time, she was going to allow herself the luxury of leaning on him, of gathering inner fortitude from a source other than herself.

  During the weeks, months, years ahead, there would be no one there for her to turn to. She’d raise her child to the best of her ability, cope with crises as they came, greet each new day with the daffodils-and-daisies outlook taught to her by her beloved gran.

  But now, right now, Hannah was so very tired, both physically and emotionally. The fright she’d experienced in the suddenly dark apartment had drained her.

  But Ted was here, holding her in an embrace that was like a cocoon; a comforting warmth like a soft blanket. She was safe. Ted represented a solid shield between her and the reality of her life.

  It felt so good, so right…just for a moment.

  Hannah sighed and Ted’s arms tightened around her slightly. She pressed more firmly against him, filling the essence of herself with his strength that seemed to flow into her, giving her what she so desperately needed to carry on, to stand alone.

  But then…slowly, slowly something began to stir deep within her. A tiny whisper of heat, like a glowing ember, was burning brighter, hotter, causing passion to heighten and thrum through her.

  Hannah was so incredibly aware of her own body and the exquisite feel of it being molded to Ted’s. Her breasts were crushed to the hard wall of his chest, yet the pain was sweet, an affirmation of her femininity compared to his rugged masculinity. The baby inside her was not a barrier between her and Ted, it was a precious connection, touching them both, its very existence meshing them into one entity.

  Oh, dear heaven, Hannah thought, she was awash with desire, wanting Ted.

  Hannah, don’t, her mind yelled. This was wrong, terribly wrong. She had to move away from Ted, borrow the flashlight so she could get to the bedroom and put on some clothes. She had to regain her sense of reason, her sense of self. Now.

  Hannah shifted and tilted her head back to look up at Ted. The shadowy luminescence of the flashlight made it possible for her to see him, not clearly, but enough to be able to meet his gaze.