Читать книгу Cinderella's Secret Agent - Ingrid Weaver - Страница 12

The whiskey bottle clinked as Del splashed more of the liquid into his glass. He’d finished his shift forty minutes ago. The drizzle that had been falling when he’d returned to his hotel room had strengthened to pattering rain, cloaking the dawn in gloom and guaranteeing another few hours of darkness. The routine of the Monarch Hotel was the same in New York as it was in the rest of the chain SPEAR owned— Del knew this because in the course of his assignments, he had stayed in practically every one of them. It would be after nine before the building came fully awake with the muffled thumps of closing doors and the squeaking rattle of the cleaning crew’s cart. That left him plenty of time to get good and drunk.

He returned the bottle to the bedside table, then leaned back against the headboard and cradled the glass in his hand. He hadn’t gotten drunk in years. In eight years, to be exact. But the Rogers clan was big on tradition, so maybe he would start one of his own.

Yes, maybe he should make it a tradition. Get blind drunk at least once a year, whether he needed it or not. It might do him good. Maybe if he loosened up more, took some time off from his job occasionally, he wouldn’t be hit so hard when something broke through to his emotions.

No, that wasn’t right. He was as human as the next guy. There was nothing wrong with his emotions. He had a full complement of them, he just didn’t need them for his job. When he was on the hunt, his success required the proverbial nerves of steel. Nothing bothered him, nothing distracted him when his survival and everyone else’s depended on his ability to keep calm in a crisis.

Cool as ice, he thought, taking a burning swallow. That’s the reputation he had built during his time with SPEAR. Evidently it spilled over into his off-duty hours, as well. After all, he’d kept his head in the back room of Laszlo’s diner, hadn’t he? Maggie had thanked him over and over for helping her through the baby’s birth. As a matter of fact, she’d been so grateful, she’d named her baby after him.

The baby.

Delilah.

The reason Del was getting drunk.

He took another swallow, grimacing at the taste of the liquor. This glassful was going down more easily than the last. Too bad it wasn’t working any faster.

He should have left well enough alone. He shouldn’t have gone to the hospital to see Maggie yesterday. He’d been around enough hospitals lately. He’d been at a different one the day before, visiting his colleague in intensive care. Until now, he’d never visited a maternity ward—he was more accustomed to dealing with how life ended than to seeing life begin.

No matter what he felt, he wasn’t responsible for Maggie or her baby. And as far as they were concerned, he was nothing but a bystander, so he had no right to accept the honor Maggie was giving him.

Maggie had named her baby Delilah out of gratitude. He had understood that. She had meant it as a favor. She couldn’t possibly have known about the sore spot she was probing with her innocent gesture.

It shouldn’t have bothered him. He had come to terms with his limitations almost a decade ago. He had a good life now. He was proud of his work. He enjoyed the loyalty he found among his fellow SPEAR agents and he relished the challenge of each new assignment. He didn’t need a namesake in order to feel fulfilled.

He shouldn’t have told Bill about the baby. It would have been wiser to keep his off-duty life completely separate from his work. Maggie’s world had nothing to do with the world of SPEAR. Yet Del had been so moved by his part in the child’s birth, he would have had to have mentioned it eventually. Too bad he hadn’t left it at that. But when he’d arrived for his shift tonight and Bill had asked about Maggie and the baby, Del had not only told him all about his visit to their hospital room, he’d let slip the name Maggie had chosen.

“Well, well, well,” Bill had said, drawing contemplatively on his pipe. “Delilah, huh? Congratulations, Papa.”

Del had tried to ignore the twinge of pain Bill’s ribbing had caused. “More like an uncle,” he’d said. “An honorary one.”

“That kid doesn’t need an uncle, she needs a daddy.”

“Maggie’s a strong woman. She’ll manage just fine. Anyone can see she loves her daughter to distraction.”

“Oh? How can you tell?”

“It’s all over her face whenever she talks about her.”

“Ah. You mean she gets a syrupy smile and her eyes go soft and unfocused?”

“Something like that.”

Bill let out a puff of aromatic smoke, watching it waft toward the ceiling. “The description fits you, as well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Next thing you know you’ll be carrying baby pictures around in your wallet and looking for a house with a white picket fence.”

“Bill…”

“Admit it, Del. You’re smitten with both of them.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“June’s a good time for a wedding, I hear. That’s only two months away.”

“I’m not marrying anyone.”

“Then why all the interest in the young single mother?”

“I’m not interested in her that way. I’m just trying to do the right thing. After the way she was seduced and abandoned by Delilah’s father, she could use a friend.”

“Aha! Methinks you doth protest too much.”

Del rolled his eyes at the mangled Shakespeare.

“Maggie’s going to look pretty good once she gets back into shape,” Bill continued. “Even when she was pregnant she was a cute little thing. You like blondes, don’t you?”

“I never really thought about it.”

“Why not? You’ve already seen what she has to offer when she—”

“That’s enough, Bill,” Del said, cutting him off. He was surprised by the anger he felt at his friend’s tasteless remark. “It wasn’t some voyeuristic fantasy, Bill. It was the birth of a child.”

“Lighten up, Del. No offense meant.”

“Anyone who would be thinking of sex under those circumstances would be sick. Perverted. I have too much respect for Maggie to even consider regarding her—”

“Hey, I said lighten up.” Bill eyed him warily. “I was only joking.”

Del glanced down and saw that he’d curled his hands into fists. It had been an instinctive, protective reaction. He made an effort to relax, taking a deep breath and wiping his palms on his pants legs. “Right.”

“You’re awfully touchy about it.”

“Maggie doesn’t deserve to be mocked that way.”

“Sorry.” Bill continued to scrutinize him. “This whole childbirth thing really did get to you, didn’t it?”

“It would get to anyone.”

“Ever thought about having kids of your own, Del?”

This time he was ready—the comment didn’t cause more than a twinge. Del looked straight at his partner and lied. “No.”

Bill shifted his pipe to the corner of his mouth and smiled enigmatically. “Then you must be pleased that Maggie named her baby after you.”

Yes, he was pleased, Del thought, tipping his head back to drain his glass. That was why he was getting drunk, because Maggie had made him so doggone happy. He squinted at the bottle beside him and reached out to pour more whiskey.

The last time he’d done this, he’d gotten drunk because he’d been angry. More than angry—furious. Eight years had passed, but he still hadn’t forgotten the feeling of helpless rage that he’d tried to drown in the bottom of a bottle. He had just seen the carefully laid plans for his life crumble to nothing.

That’s what love did to a person. He’d been around the same age then that Maggie was now, and he’d been just as wrong about the person he’d fallen in love with.

Only in Del’s case, it hadn’t been a whirlwind romance with someone who was already married. He had loved Elizabeth Johanson since they had made a papier-mâché model of Mount Saint Helens together for a fifth grade geography project. The finished model had looked more like a crumpled soda can than a volcanic crater, but he had fallen head over heels for Elizabeth nevertheless.

They had gone steady all through high school. No one in the county had been surprised when Del and Elizabeth had become engaged after graduation. While she had gone away to teachers’ college, he had stayed behind to help work his parents’ farm, counting the days until they would be married. Their love had seemed stronger than ever each time Elizabeth had come home. By the time he was twenty-one, his parents had deeded him a plot of land, and he had already started to build the house he and Elizabeth had designed together. It would have plenty of bedrooms. They wanted a houseful of children.

Oh, yeah, Elizabeth had wanted children. She was wild about them. She came from a family almost as large as Del’s and she was devoted to her younger siblings. So when her youngest brother came down with the mumps the Christmas before her wedding, she hadn’t hesitated to take care of him. She hadn’t realized she would pass on the illness to Del.

Having the mumps at seven wasn’t usually serious. It was just another one of those childhood diseases that was more of a nuisance than a danger. But the consequences were different for a man of twenty-one.

Del hadn’t wanted to believe the results of the lab test his doctor had ordered. He’d had a second, and then a third, but they only verified the first. The mumps had left Del unable to father children. He was completely sterile.

It had been difficult to grasp. Del hadn’t felt any different physically. He still had the same sexual urges of any normal, red-blooded male his age. As far as he knew, his capabilities when it came to lovemaking hadn’t suffered. He had thought he was the same man.

Elizabeth had cried when he’d told her. In one breath she vowed she would always love him, but in the next she was telling him their engagement was off. She didn’t want to tie herself for life to a man who couldn’t give her children.

Del had felt his anger stir then, but he’d had no target to focus the feeling on. He couldn’t really blame Elizabeth’s brother for coming down with the mumps in the first place. And he tried not to fault Elizabeth for her honesty, either, no matter how hurtful her rejection of him was. If he really loved her, he would want her to be happy, wouldn’t he? He would let her go and wish her well.

That’s what he’d tried to do. He’d been damn noble about the whole thing. But the nobility had been submerged by a wave of fury when barely a month had passed before he learned that the woman who had promised to love him forever had eloped with his best friend. Their first child had been born eight months later.

So much for love. So much for loyalty. It hadn’t taken the love of his life long to find his replacement.

Getting drunk had seemed like a good idea then. It had helped to blunt the pain. It had diluted the frustrated anger he’d felt at Elizabeth, at fate, at his own physical defect.

But he wasn’t angry now, was he?

So why was he determined to get drunk?

It was because of Delilah. The beautiful little baby with Maggie’s eyes…and Del’s name.

Del let his head fall back against the headboard. He could feel a pleasant numbness starting in his lips. It was only a matter of time before it worked its way to his mind.

Trouble was, once the alcohol wore off, the emotions would still be there.

Maggie really had made him happy. It wasn’t just because she had named her child after him. It was her openhearted generosity. Even though they hardly knew each other, she was letting him share the joy of her baby. When was the last time he’d felt such pure, simple pleasure?

She had declared him an honorary uncle. He hadn’t been much of a real one. He always made sure to send Christmas and birthday gifts to his sister’s kids, but he didn’t see them often. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been home. He’d deliberately limited his contact with babies.

Until now, he’d never realized how much he’d been missing.

He fumbled to put his glass on the nightstand. Damn, he was drunk, all right. He was getting downright mushy. He could feel the silly smile working across his face as he thought about how incredibly soft Delilah’s cheek had felt, and how perfectly Maggie’s hand had fit within his.

He wanted to experience those feelings again.

Yet he would never know the touch of his own child. There would be no blood of his blood, flesh of his flesh. He wouldn’t be able to put that glow of happiness on a woman’s face that he saw on Maggie’s when she held her baby. He couldn’t give her the seed that would grow the miracle.

Rubbing his eyes, he shook his head. He was getting downright maudlin.

Maggie wanted more children. She had made that clear even when she’d been in the throes of labor. Del knew better than to get involved with a woman like that. It would only lead to pain and disillusionment. It would be Elizabeth all over again.

The solution to Del’s problem was dead simple. All he had to do was keep away from any woman who wanted children. That way, his sterility would never be an issue.

He shouldn’t have gone to see Maggie yesterday.

But he would see her today. And tomorrow. And as often as he could until his work here was over and he moved on to the next assignment. At least the whiskey had made him honest enough to admit that much.

Damn it all, he wanted to see her. And he wanted to see the baby. They made him feel good.

Besides, he didn’t intend to get involved with Maggie. He only wanted to do the decent thing, to be her friend. He still felt a certain amount of responsibility toward her, especially now that she had named her child after him. As long as he limited their association to friendship, there wouldn’t be any risk of hurt to either of them.

Yes, he could be her friend, he reasoned. He could be an honorary uncle to his namesake. Just because he couldn’t have children of his own didn’t mean he had to cut Maggie and Delilah out of his life entirely, did it?

And as he’d already reminded himself, he didn’t need to be able to father children to be a success in the life he had now. Having children was damn inconvenient for a SPEAR agent. Hunting international terrorists and keeping the world safe for democracy were dangerous business. On top of that, Del never knew where he’d be from one day to the next. A man like that wouldn’t make a good father, even if his plumbing did work.

When he thought about it, there was a certain irony to the situation—the top marksman in SPEAR was only capable of shooting blanks.

Was that one of the reasons he’d become such a crack shot, to compensate for his failure in that other area? Was that why he was so adamant about never taking a life, because he knew he’d never be able to create one?

Del sighed and slid down to stretch out on the bed. He’d definitely had enough to drink. He’d progressed from mushy to maudlin and now he was headed straight for philosophical.

Maybe he should forget about doing this once a year. Every eight years was more than enough.

The rain hit the front window of the diner with the determination of machine-gun bullets. Near the counter there was a crash of breaking crockery. Del winced as echoes of the racket ping-ponged through his skull. He held his breath, waiting until his brain stopped sloshing around, then hunched his shoulders and took another gulp of coffee.

“Broom is in the back room,” Laszlo said from his post in front of the grill. He scowled at the teenager who stared at him defiantly.

“I’m not cleaning that up. I didn’t do it.” The girl pointed a black-tipped fingernail toward the other waitress. The black nail polish matched her lipstick, as well as the studs that marched in an arc along the edge of her right ear. “It was her fault.”

Joanne blew a large bubble and popped it with a snap. “Taking responsibility for your mistakes is good for your karma, kid. You don’t want to come back as a toad, do you?”

“You bumped my elbow.”

“I was nowhere near you, hon.”

“Yeah, right. What’s the matter? Memory failing? Take too many acid trips back in the sixties, Grandma?”

Joanne chewed her gum harder. “Twerp.”

“Cow.”

The two customers nearest the door evidently decided it was a good time to leave. They stood up, their chairs screeching across the floor with a noise akin to a freight train making an emergency stop.

“Enough,” Laszlo growled. “You get broom now, or you look for the other job.”

“Hey, fine with me, Fatso.” The girl pulled off her apron and tossed it on the counter. “This job sucks. I can make more money with a squeegee.” She strode to the door, her six-inch platform shoes pounding across the floor like an artillery barrage.

Del squinted as his left eye began to water.

“Nice going, Laszlo,” Joanne muttered. “That’s the second one in two days.”

“She was the idiot. She look like the witch and scare customers.”

“I suppose she couldn’t help it. I noticed right off that her aura was unbalanced.” Joanne retrieved the broom and swept up the shattered dishes. The shards clinked together with the rat-a-tat sharpness of a tap-dancing troupe practicing on a sheet of aluminum.

Del finished his coffee. Placing a paper napkin across his saucer to muffle the clunk, he carefully set the cup on top of it. The bagel he’d managed to eat was sitting in his stomach like a stone, but at least it had gone down quietly.

“Would you like anything else?”

He stifled a groan at Joanne’s perky inquiry. He started to shake his head but thought better of it. “No, thanks.”

“Sorry about the commotion,” she said. “We’re having a hard time finding a replacement for Maggie.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Poor kid. She was so eager to have that baby, but it took all of us off guard.”

“That it did.”

“We sure were lucky that you happened to be in here. My gosh, I don’t know what we would have done when she went into labor like that.” She tilted her head, smiling at Del. “She told me she named the baby after you.”

“Yes. Delilah.”

“That’s just like Maggie. She’s such a sweet girl.”

“She’ll make a good mother.”

“That’s for sure.” She gave her gum a pensive chew. “Do you have any kids, Del?”

Why was everyone asking him that lately? “No, I don’t.”

“Maggie’s just nuts about them. When I called her this morning she was already talking about having more.” Joanne gasped and smacked her forehead. “Oh, no. Maggie!”

“What about her?” Del asked immediately. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that. She’s going home today.”

“Already?”

“I promised I would take her, and she’s anxious to leave. She hates hospitals. Laszlo said he’d lend me his car.” She whirled around. “Laszlo! You’ve got to get her back.”

“Who?”

“The kid with the earrings.”

“No. She is the witch.”

“But I have to pick up Maggie. If you don’t get that earring girl back, who’s going to cover for me?”

Laszlo scowled. “You can’t go. Maggie will wait.”

“She can’t wait. She has to clear out of the room this afternoon.”

“She can take subway.”

“The subway? Laszlo, you don’t understand. She doesn’t just need a ride, she needs someone to help her get the baby settled. It would be horrible for her to have to go home all by herself. And taking her child home is such a momentous occasion, she shouldn’t be alone—”

“I need you here.”

“But I promised. She’s expecting me in an hour.”

Del listened in silence as the two tried to figure out what to do. Of course, there was an obvious solution to the problem. His shift wouldn’t start for another few hours. He could easily get to the hospital, pick up Maggie and Delilah and take them home. That would still leave him plenty of time to get them settled before he had to meet Bill at the surveillance site.

That would be the decent thing to do, wouldn’t it? The kind of assistance a friend or an honorary uncle would give? Last night he’d already decided there would be no harm in that, right?

Despite the rain that sheeted down the window and the hangover from hell, the day suddenly seemed brighter. Del’s teeth barely ached as he scraped his chair back and stood up. “Maybe I can help,” he said.

At least the taxi was yellow instead of white, Maggie thought as the cab splashed its way across the Queensboro Bridge toward her apartment in Astoria. As long as the cab was yellow, there would be less risk of getting Del confused with a knight on a white horse, riding to her rescue.

She turned her head to look at him. His dark brown hair clung wetly to his scalp, molding the contours of his head like a helmet. His navy blue windbreaker appeared black, soaked through from the rain and weighed down against his shoulders like tightly woven chain mail. His usually neatly pressed chinos stuck to his thighs, outlining muscles that could easily control a horse.

He’d brought an umbrella with him, but it had been one of those small, collapsible ones. He’d used it to keep her and the baby dry instead of himself.

Darn chivalrous of him, wasn’t it? Like an old-fashioned knight, or maybe a cowboy out of some Gary Cooper western?

Maggie grimaced inwardly. The roller coaster ride she’d been on with her emotions since Delilah’s birth was beginning to slow down, but it wasn’t over yet. She was pathetically vulnerable right now, so she had good reason to be cautious about her reaction to Del.

He was a nice guy, that’s all. A really nice guy. He didn’t deserve to be the focus of all this silly fantasizing—she’d already decided that would only lead to trouble.

After all, that was how it had started with Alan: a chance meeting in the diner, an instant attraction to the man with the charming, too-good-to-be-true manner. He had flirted outrageously, then had swept her into a whirlwind romance. He’d topped it all off with an impetuous declaration of love that she’d wanted too badly to believe.

But Del wasn’t like Alan. He was tender and honest….

Hormones, she reminded herself, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in her throat. She’d read about this in the baby books, too. That’s why she was making such a big deal out of Del’s friendly gesture. He wasn’t trying to be charming, he was simply being, well, nice.

“How’s the baby doing?” he asked.

Maggie lifted the corner of the receiving blanket and peeked at Delilah in the car seat. “She’s still asleep.”

“Good. I was worried the rain might have woken her.”

“Thanks to you, she didn’t get a drop.”

“Great.”

She brushed her thumb across the baby’s knuckles. “It seems as if I’m always thanking you, Del.”

“You don’t have to. I’m glad I could help.”

“I’m sorry about the way Joanne roped you into this.”

“No need to apologize. I volunteered.”

“Thanks, Del.”

Thunder rumbled as the taxi pulled up in front of Maggie’s apartment building. Del got soaked once more as he held the umbrella over Maggie and Delilah and escorted them to the entrance. When they reached her apartment on the third floor, he took the key from her hand and unlocked the door.

Maggie had always liked this apartment. She’d decorated the place on a shoestring, scouring the neighborhood discount stores for bargains and brightening the walls with paint the color of pale daffodils. She loved the earth-toned fringed rug and the overstuffed couch, the tapestry pillows and the lamp with the stained-glass shade. All the little touches she’d stretched her budget to add made the place cozy and welcoming.

She paused on the threshold. Everything was exactly the same as it had been when she’d left for work the day her baby had been born.

And that was the problem. It was exactly as she’d left it.

In the gray light from the window, she could see the heap of laundry still on the couch and the dishes she’d left in the sink. The high-backed rocking chair she’d found in a thrift shop last week was buried under a layer of newspapers and baby books. Through the doorway that led to her closet-size bedroom, she could see the trailing edge of a crumpled sheet.

She hadn’t tidied up before leaving for work that morning—her back had been aching in what she now realized had been the onset of labor. On top of that, she’d been too tired out after taking most of the previous evening to rearrange the bedroom furniture to clear a space for the crib.

Her gaze swung to the far wall and the pieces of what was supposed to be Delilah’s crib. She had believed it would be weeks before she would need to assemble it. She wasn’t sure where the sheets for it were. She hadn’t finished organizing the clothes she’d been acquiring for the baby, either—she had assumed she’d have plenty of time to get the apartment into shape once she stopped working.

As she contemplated the tasks ahead of her, Maggie’s emotions did another roller coaster twist and dip, swerving toward despair. But then she glanced at her daughter, and she was swooping upward again.

This was another one of those moments she’d anticipated for months. She had her baby safe and warm in her arms, and she was about to bring her into the home they would share together.

What did it matter if the place wasn’t perfect? Who cared if there was more work to be done? Fancy furniture and clean laundry didn’t make a home. Love made a home. And she and Delilah would have plenty of that.

She would manage somehow. She always did. One day at a time.

“Are you crying again, Maggie?”

She licked a tear that had trickled to the corner of her mouth, then firmed her chin. “No.”

“That’s good,” he said, patting the pockets of his sodden jacket. “Because I don’t think I have anything dry on me.”

His stab at humor only made her eyes fill faster. Maggie took a shaky breath and led the way inside. “Take your jacket off, Del. I think we could both use some towels.”

He closed the door behind them and looked around briefly, then peeled off his windbreaker and hung it over the doorknob. “Don’t worry about me, Maggie.”

“It’s the least I can do after the way you brought us home and everything.” Holding Delilah to her shoulder, she walked to the bathroom and took a large bath towel from the shelf over the tub.

By the time she returned, Del had cleared the newspapers and books off the rocking chair and was stacking them under the window. He grabbed a pillow from the couch and propped it against the chair back.

“Del, you don’t have to—”

“Here.” He took the towel from her hand and draped it around his neck, then cupped her elbow and guided her to the chair. He hovered by her side until she and Delilah were comfortably settled. “You should be taking it easy.”

The concern in his voice brought a lump to her throat. It was only gratitude she felt, and a good dose of postpartum hormones. Her emotions were as much a mess as her apartment. “Thanks, Del.”

He used the towel to wipe his face and briskly rubbed his hair dry. “With Delilah’s birth coming so unexpectedly, I realize you likely haven’t had a chance to make all the preparations you would have wanted to, so is there anything you need?”

She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “You mean like a road map for the apartment or maybe a bulldozer for the mess?”

“I was thinking more in the line of food or diapers, but I’ll clean up whatever you want.”

“I appreciate the offer, Del, but I’ll be fine. The fridge is full, and there’s a carton of diapers around here somewhere. If I can remember where,” she added under her breath.

“What about formula? Baby bottles?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of that. I’m…” She hesitated, surprised by the sudden self-consciousness she felt. This was the man who had witnessed her baby’s birth. They had shared an intimacy that transcended sex, and yet she knew by the heat in her cheeks that she was coloring into a beet.

This was absurd, she told herself. Her modesty was misplaced. As natural functions went, this had to be the most wholesome of all. “Delilah won’t need any formula,” she answered finally. “I’m breast-feeding her.”

Beneath the beginnings of Del’s five-o’clock shadow, his face appeared to redden. He gripped the towel he held more tightly. “Oh.”

At his obvious embarrassment, Maggie relaxed. It really was silly to feel awkward, considering what they’d already gone through. She shifted the still sleeping Delilah to the crook of her arm and rested her elbow on the pillow Del had supplied. “Didn’t your sister breast-feed?”

“I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it.”

“It’s the best thing for the baby. Mothers’ milk is the easiest to digest, so the longer I keep it up, the less likely she is to develop allergies.”

“Uh, yes. I can understand that.”

“And it will give her immune system a boost, since she’ll get all my antibodies through the milk.”

“That makes sense.”

“It’s also a lot easier for me.”

He kept his gaze scrupulously on her face. “I suppose so.”

“Especially for night feedings, since there’s no bottle to warm up and nothing to prepare.”

“Uh, right.”

“Considering the state of this place, that’s a good thing.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll never lose track of where I left the milk.”

He let out a startled laugh. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

She grinned, glad to see she had put him at ease.

Del gave his hair one last rub with the towel, then tossed the towel on top of the laundry pile. “Okay, it seems as if you have the basics covered. Is there anything else you can think of that you might need?”

“No, thanks, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

“Is there a Laundromat close by?”

“There’s a laundry room in the basement, but I’ll get to it, Del. Honestly, contrary to how things look here, I’m normally a very competent person.”

“I know you are, Maggie. But I realize Delilah’s birth being earlier than you expected must have caused you problems.” He paused. “If having to quit work so soon is going to leave you in a tight spot…”

“Hey, did I mention the other good thing about breast-feeding? It’s cheap.”

He didn’t smile. “Maggie, I don’t mean to pry into your finances, but if you need money, just ask.”

Her grin faded. “Del, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll get by. I do have some money put aside, and the baby-sitting I’ll be doing for my neighbor will help tide me over until I can go back to work.”

He nodded. “Okay, but if something comes up, I would be happy to give you a loan, no strings attached.”

“Really, you don’t have to feel obligated….” She was struck by a sudden thought. “Is that it? Do you feel you have to help because I said you could be Delilah’s honorary uncle?”

“I don’t feel obligated to help. I want to.”

“Because I didn’t name Delilah after you just to manipulate you into feeling responsible, and I sure wasn’t looking for money—”

“Maggie, I never thought you were like that,” he said. “I feel privileged to be part of Delilah’s life. Believe me, what you’ve given me is far more valuable than anything I could offer you.”

How did he always know exactly the right thing to say? she wondered. “Thanks, Del.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. I do a lot of traveling because of my work, so I don’t see much of my nephews and nieces back in Missouri. I’m only in New York temporarily, too, but while I’m here, I’d really like the chance to be Delilah’s honorary uncle. And your friend.”

The roller coaster did another dip and swirl. A friend? Maggie thought. A friend was safe. And a man friend who was only here temporarily was even safer.

What was she worried about? Why was she fighting him? She wasn’t in danger of falling into the same trap with Del that she had with Alan. She wasn’t going to start mistaking her dreams for the real thing. This was a different situation altogether. Yes, it was.

“Thanks, Del,” she said softly. “I can use all the friends I can get.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he returned her smile. “All right. Since your hands are full, how about if I put that crib together before I go?”

“Well…”

“Trust me, I’m good at putting things together. Or would you rather have me do the dishes instead?”

“No. Really. They don’t matter.”

“You’re right. I think having someplace for Delilah to sleep tonight is the priority.” Before she could voice another objection, he switched on a lamp and crossed the room. After a cursory inspection of the parts of the crib, he laid the pieces out on the floor and opened the small plastic package that contained the necessary hardware. “Do you have a screwdriver?”

“In the drawer beside the stove.”

It was probably only a trick of the lighting combined with the pesky moisture that kept filling her eyes, she decided. Yet as Del progressed with his task, Maggie couldn’t help noticing how the lingering dampness on his shirt and pants reflected the lamplight with a gleam that was almost metallic, almost like…like armor. Shining armor.

Maggie pressed her cheek against the top of Delilah’s wispy curls, unsure whether to laugh or cry.