Читать книгу Baby In Her Arms - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 8

Chapter One

“Wahhhh!”

Josh McKinley stared down at the baby in the car seat next to him as if she were an alien newly arrived on earth.

“Listen,” he began, desperation in his voice, “I know you’re not happy, but I’m not, either. I mean, it’s not that I don‘t—that is, I know you’re—hell. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

A little sob was the only response. Not that he expected conversation from an eight-month-old, but he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. And it made the baby stop crying.

At least, he’d thought it had. She’d apparently only been taking a breather so she could scream louder.

Nervously he leaned over and snapped on the radio. The hard rock he usually listened to didn’t seem appropriate, and he scanned several stations until he found one playing a soothing melody.

Again the baby—his baby—stopped crying.

His baby.

When Child Protective Services had called his office earlier that day, he hadn’t gotten back to them right away. He was busy. Besides, he didn’t do kids.

Joshua McKinley, Private Investigator, was one of the top private eyes in Kansas City. He could pick and choose among the many cases offered.

They called back, leaving another message.

He’d had a client consultation that was tricky. He’d call them later. They probably only wanted a donation or something.

At five-thirty he had wrapped up the details of several cases and was chatting on the phone with a model he’d dated a time or two when call-waiting had interrupted. He’d almost ignored it. But the model seemed to have rocks in her head instead of brains. Besides, the call might have been a new case.

“Hello?”

“Is this Joshua McKinley?”

“Sure is. What can I do for you?”

“You could try returning your calls,” the female voice had said indignantly.

“Who is this?”

“Abigail Cox, Child Protective Services. Didn’t you get my messages?”

Even his mother hadn’t chastised him as determinedly as this stranger. He’d straightened his shoulders. “Yes, I did, but I’m running a business here.”

“And I have a very unhappy baby who needs her daddy.”

“Lady, if the case isn’t too complicated, I can take it on, pro bono, in a couple of days. Send me the details.” He wasn’t an unfeeling monster.

“Mr. McKinley, it won’t take the detective skills of Sherlock Holmes for you to find the baby’s father. It’s you.”

He’d opened his mouth, but no sound had come out. Taking the phone receiver away from his ear, he’d stared at it as if it had bitten him. Finally, he’d put it back to his ear. “What did you say?”

“Are you deaf as well as slow? I said—”

“Listen, lady, I don’t have to listen to your insults, and I’m not—”

“You’re right, and I offer my apologies. It’s been a very frustrating day.”

He’d heard the weariness in her voice and figured he should cut the lady some slack. He knew he wouldn’t want to deal with a bunch of kids, and the poor woman was going to have to face the fact that she’d made a mistake.

“Hey, you’ve got my sympathies. Hope you find the right guy.” He was starting to hang up when she’d yelled loud enough to get his attention even though the phone was inches from his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Mr. McKinley, you are the right guy.”

Joshua was snapped back to the present by his companion in the darkened car. Obviously tired of the music, she drowned it out with her hysterical crying, distracting him from the review of earlier events.

“Baby, you can’t do that,” he muttered, grabbing his head with one hand. The pain between his eyes was growing unbearable.

Big blue eyes stared at him. Then the baby opened her mouth and screamed again.

Hell, what was he supposed to do? He knew nothing about babies. And it was a girl! Maybe if the baby had been a boy, he would have been able to figure things out. But a girl! The plumbing wasn’t even the same, much less the emotions.

Desperately reviewing the females of his acquaintance, not for the first time, he shook his head in despair. His only family consisted of a distant cousin somewhere near Boston. He hadn’t been seeing anyone regularly since Julie—and look what that had gotten him. He eyed the screaming baby with astonishment again.

He scanned the neighborhood as he drove, but he didn’t expect an answer. The world seemed uncaring of his difficulties. Until he saw the illuminated sign of the Lucky Charm Diner.

Mike O’Connor!

Josh had done some work for Mike a couple of years ago, just before the man died. He’d had a couple of daughters, and Josh had discovered a third one Mike hadn’t known about.

Kind of like his situation.

What were the daughters’ names? Kathryn, Mary Margaret and...and Susan. Right.

He whipped his car into the parking lot. It was almost ten o’clock. If nothing else, he could buy some milk for the baby. And maybe some advice.

He’d take whatever he could get.

Mary Margaret O’Connor smiled. Kate was going to be so pleased. Not that Kate was dependent any longer on the diner or her catering company, since she’d married Will, but the more money the diner made, the more she would be able to help Susan.

Kate paid one-third of the profits from the diner to Susan, one-third to Maggie and kept one-third. After all, the diner was their father’s legacy to them.

Dear Pop. He wouldn’t even recognize the diner if he were alive. Kate had made it nouveau chic for the bluebloods of Kansas City.

Maggie’s thoughts were interrupted by a noise that she at first mistook for a siren, but soon determined was a baby crying.

Here? This late at night?

Curiosity propelled her out of her chair. Grabbing her empty coffee cup as an excuse, Maggie left the small office behind the kitchen and pushed through the swinging doors into the restaurant.

There she stopped and stared at the handsome hunk who was holding a baby as if someone had just handed him a bowling ball that he didn’t know what to do with.

“Glad you’re here, Maggie,” said Wanda, the night waitress, as Maggie entered the restaurant

“What’s up?” Maggie called over the screaming baby. Why didn’t the man do something?

“This guy’s looking for you or Kate.” The waitress, tired and cranky, glared at him, then turned her back.

Maggie stared at him. What could he want with her? Suddenly wishing her big sister were here, she barely nodded at the man; he was handsome enough to leave any woman speechless, with his tight jeans, broad shoulders and bright blue eyes. Involuntarily, her insides turned to Jell-O.

“You’re Mary Margaret? Mike O’Connor’s daughter?”

“Maggie. I’m called Maggie.” He probably hadn’t come here with a screaming baby to find out her nickname.

“Maggie, I’m in trouble here.”

She could tell that, in spite of the fact she knew little about babies. But what did he want from her? “Wh-what’s the problem?”

To her shock, he shoved the baby toward her. Automatically she put out her arms and found herself holding the screaming baby. Then she jiggled the child gently and crooned to it, “Easy, sweetie, don’t cry. It’s okay, don’t cry.”

Immediately, the baby stopped crying.

A loud cheer went up from the few patrons.

The baby began screaming again.

The man spun around and glared at the customers, putting his finger to his well-shaped lips.

Though Maggie continued to try to soothe the baby, her gaze never left the man. He turned back to stare at Maggie, as the baby settled down again, a hopeful look on his face that made her nervous.

“Who are you?” she finally asked softly as the baby’s eyes slowly closed.

“Josh McKinley.”

Frantically she ran that name through her head and came up with nothing except a vague feeling that she’d heard it before. But where? Most of the men she knew worked at the accounting firm where she was employed. This man wasn’t one of them. Not with those muscles. She would’ve remembered.

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“I’m a private investigator. I found your sister for your father.”

“Oh. Right. Pop mentioned—”

“I know you don’t owe me anything, but I need a woman.”

Maggie felt her jaw drop, and she quickly snapped her lips together. If someone had needed a woman, an O’Connor woman, it had always been Kate, her vibrant, red-haired sister. Not quiet Maggie.

“Why?” she whispered.

He stared back at her as if she’d just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Why? The baby, of course.”

Maggie stared at the sleeping infant in her arms and then back at him. “You’re looking for a baby-sitter? Why do you think I would know where to—”

“Not a sitter. At least—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I will need a sitter, I guess, but right now, I need someone to tell me what to do.”

Maggie kept thinking everything would become clear if she asked a few questions, but each answer was only muddying the water. “What to do about what?”

She’d forgotten to whisper, and the baby’s eyes fluttered open and she began crying again.

“That!” he said in frustration.

Putting the baby on her shoulder and patting her back, Maggie stared at him. “The baby?”

“Of course the baby! What else could I mean?”

Fed up with the going-nowhere conversation, she straightened her shoulders. “Look, Mr. McKinley, let’s start at the beginning. Whose baby is this?”

“Mine.” His single word seemed to come out reluctantly, and he looked away.

Maggie stared at him, blinking rapidly at the unexpected answer. “Yours? You’re the father?”

“Yes, damn it!”

“What’s her name?”

“How do you know it’s a girl?” he demanded.

“She’s wearing pink.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Her name?” Maggie prompted.

“It’s—Damn, I can’t remember!”

Maggie gasped as if he’d revealed a heinous crime. “You don’t know your own daughter’s name?”

His cheeks flushed. “I...I was in shock. You don’t understand. I didn’t even know about her until they...they handed her to me. I know they mentioned—” He rubbed his forehead. “It’s an oldfashioned name. It’ll come to me.”

“I can’t believe you don’t know your—”

“Lady, cut me some slack! I told you—it’s on the papers I have in the car.” He turned to leave, and Maggie was filled with fear that he wouldn’t return.

“Where are you going?”

He stared at her in surprise. “To the car to find out her name. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“No! I mean...how do I know you’ll come back?”

Her question didn’t make him happy. That much was evident by his glowering face. Suddenly he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a thick wallet. “Here’s my driver’s license, my money and my credit cards. Okay?” He laid the wallet down on the counter and strode to the door.

Maggie stood there, holding the baby, staring at the wallet as if she feared it would try to get up and run away by itself.

Two minutes later he reappeared with a small bag. “Everything’s in here,” he muttered, digging around. Triumphantly he pulled out papers. “Virginia Lynn. That’s her name, Virginia Lynn.”

Maggie pulled the baby away from her shoulder. “Ginny? Is that your name, sweetheart?”

The child hiccuped, then reached for Maggie’s dark hair.

“When was she last fed?”

“They gave her a bottle at four, because I hadn’t called. I remember they told me four o’clock.”

He acted as if he deserved a prize. “Okay, then she’s probably hungry. What is she supposed to eat?” Maggie asked.

“Hell, lady, why are you asking me all these questions? I don’t know anything about babies. That’s why I need a woman.”

Maggie let her lids settle gently over her eyes to hide herself from the angry man in front of her. But he didn’t go away. She knew because she could hear his raspy breathing, as if he’d run a race...or was upset.

“Did they include anything in the bag?”

“The bottle’s in here, but it’s empty.” He dug it out and handed it to her.

“Wanda?” she called over her shoulder. “Could you clean this bottle and fill it with milk?”

“Whole milk or skim?”

Maggie looked helplessly at Josh McKinley, and he shrugged his shoulders. She moved closer to hand him the baby.

He backed away. “Hell, lady, you aren’t going to give up because I don’t know what kind of milk, are you?”

Exasperated, she said, “No! But I thought you could hold the baby while I call my sister. My nephew is almost a year old. Kate will know what to do.”

He reluctantly took the baby back into his arms, holding her against his body, as if he’d learned from watching Maggie.

She headed for the phone, and the baby started crying again.

“She hates me,” he protested, following Maggie.

“Don’t be silly. She’s probably not used to a man’s voice. Speak softly.” She dialed Kate’s number.

“Kate, do you know what kind of milk a baby should have?” she asked as soon as Kate answered.

“Maggie? What?” her sister asked.

“A man is here with a little baby, and we’re fixing a bottle, but I don’t know if she should have skim milk or whole milk.”

“How old is she?”

Maggie hated to ask the man for more information, but she had no choice. Not that she expected him to know. “How old?”

To her surprise he said, “Eight months. She was born last October.”

She repeated the information to Kate.

“Whole milk is fine. She can probably eat a little mashed potatoes, too, if they’re not heavily seasoned. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

Maggie explained about Josh McKinley.

“Hey, maybe your sister could take her in tonight, just until I can arrange things,” the man suggested.

Maggie suddenly realized he was standing right next to her, his shoulders brushing hers. “I doubt—”

“Ask her.”

“Kate, he wants to know if you can take Ginny tonight.”

“He what?” Kate squawked. “No, no, I can’t. Nate has come down with the chicken pox from a child in his play group. I don’t think it would be good to—”

“Oh, no. You’re right.”

“Look, I’ll pay—” Josh urged.

“Her baby has the chicken pox,” Maggie explained.

Before the man could respond, Ginny whimpered again.

Kate spoke before Maggie could. “You’d better get off the phone and feed her. And don’t forget to change her diaper. She’s probably wet.”

Maggie hung up the phone. “Do you have any dry diapers? When did you last change her?”

“Change her?” Dawning realization stole over the man’s handsome features. An unpleasant realization. “You mean—” He gestured to the baby’s bottom.

“Of course that’s what I mean. You haven’t changed her, have you?” she asked as her own realization occurred. “How long have you had her?”

“A couple of hours. I couldn’t figure out what to do.”

“Do you have diapers?”

“You’ll have to look,” he insisted, clutching the baby against him with two hands, as if he feared she’d run away.

Maggie opened the bag and found five unused disposable diapers. “Good. I’ll show you where you can change her while I fix some potatoes and her bottle.”

“Potatoes?”

“My sister said she could eat them. This way.”

“Wait a minute!” he gasped as he followed her. “I can’—I mean, I’ve never—You do it!”

“It’s not difficult, Mr. McKinley. And she is your daughter.” She wasn’t about to admit that she wasn’t very experienced in that area herself.

Gesturing to the sofa in her office, she turned and left the room, feeling guilty. She hoped poor Ginny didn’t suffer from her father’s lack of experience.

In the kitchen she heated up some mashed potatoes Kate had prepared before she’d left for the day. Wanda washed the bottle in silence, a sure sign that she was upset, and slapped it down on the counter beside the milk she was warming.

“There! It’s clean. But I think you should throw the guy out on his ear. His story sounds pretty hokey to me.”

“We really haven’t even heard his story, Wanda, and the baby’s so sweet.”

“Hmmmp!” Wanda snorted and pushed through the swinging doors.

“She’s changed,” Josh said, stepping into the kitchen.

Maggie stared at the mangled diaper, its sticky tabs at strange angles. But at least the diaper wasn’t falling off. “Good job.” She could afford to be generous.

His sheepish look surprised her. “I had to throw away two others. Those sticky things got stuck on—on other things.”

“Then your next stop had better be somewhere you can buy diapers. The two you have left won’t last very long.” She knew that much, at least. Kate was always complaining about the number of diapers Nathan used.

He looked panicky again, but as he drew closer to Maggie, Ginny gurgled and held out her hands, plainly asking Maggie to take her.

Maggie’s heart flipped over and she grabbed the warm little body. “Oh, you sweetheart. Are you hungry?”

She held the baby in one arm and picked up the bowl of potatoes. “Fill the bottle with warm milk and bring it to me,” she ordered, as if she cared for Ginny every day of the week, and sailed through the swinging doors.

Josh stared at Maggie’s cute little backside as she swung away from him. Then he shook his head. He shouldn’t even be noticing such a thing. He had a baby to care for.

Ginny. He had Ginny to care for:

And Ginny wanted Maggie.

He couldn’t blame her, but he also couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy that filled him.

Dismissing such silliness, he took the milk from the stove and filled the bottle, screwing on the nipple, and followed Maggie.

“Have you eaten?” Maggie asked as he slid into the booth across from her.

“Me?” It took time for him to remember. “Uh, no. I went to see about...about Ginny and—no.”

“Wanda, bring Josh a menu,” Maggie ordered, never lifting her gaze from Ginny.

Josh knew why. His child, little Ginny, suddenly seemed to have eight hands, waving and reaching, trying to catch hold of the spoon Maggie wielded.

Then he was distracted by the menu Wanda handed him. It took him no time to place his order; and the food was brought to him amazingly fast.

After shoveling food down with as many manners as he could summon, he leaned back against the seat and realized Maggie was holding his child, watching him in silence.

Ginny wasn’t watching anyone. Snuggled against Maggie’s neck, she slept peacefully.

Josh wasn’t slow. He immediately realized what he needed. He asked Maggie the only possible question.

“Will you come home with me?”