Читать книгу Santa's Special Delivery - Val Daniels - Страница 8

CHAPTER ONE

ANDREW McAllister peeled the well-worn envelope from his door. Hadn’t his neighbors ever heard of Post-it notes? With his thumb, he scrubbed at the small spot of residue left by the tape. As he inserted his key in the lock, he glanced at the original address on the recycled envelope. Lori Warren, Apartment 339, had been x’d out. His own name had been hurriedly scrawled above it.

Tugging at his tie, he slipped inside and set the note on the partition separating the foyer from the living room.

Lori Warren? This building, two floors up, he placed her address. He tried to remember meeting her and frowned when no particular face came to mind. Another neighbor attempting to bring him into their congenial little fold, he supposed. He’d deal with it later when he wasn’t so rushed for time.

The wall clock on the opposite side of the room said he had an hour and twenty minutes to get to the most important Christmas party of the season—of his life. That wasn’t much time when it was a forty-minute drive to the governor’s palatial private home in the suburbs.

He ’made his way to the master suite.

Several people had assured him it was a huge coup to be invited to the private party the governor and his wife held in their home. But next year, Andy determined, he’d be going to the one in Topeka. The official one held at the governor’s mansion.

He turned on the shower with one hand as he removed his watch with the other. Allowing time for the temperature to adjust, he drew his tux from the back of the closet and removed the protective plastic bag the dry cleaners had covered it with. It looked okay, he assured himself. He’d had it cleaned last summer, the last time he’d worn it, but he’d been concerned all afternoon, worrying whether it might need a fresh pressing, cursing himself for not thinking to check it sooner.

He smiled to himself as he stepped under the hot spray sending huge clouds of steam out into the room and beyond. He knew as surely as he knew his name that worry over the suit was only a symptom. He wanted this appointment and knew he had only a slight chance of getting it.

He couldn’t remember the last time his stomach had clenched and fluttered the way it had been doing all day. Maybe when he’d taken the bar?

His friends and fellow attorneys called him The Iron Man in court. He’d worked hard to establish the reputation. Nothing shook him. He didn’t allow it. No one ever knew what he was thinking or planning.

Still smiling as he stood naked before the mirror to shave, Andy admitted that it had been a long time since he’d wanted anything as badly as the appointment the governor would be making early in the new year. Everyone, himself included, knew the invitation to this party was one of the governor’s ways of checking him out.

You’ll be fine, he assured himself, turning away from his image and quickly dressing.

When he returned to the living room, he was startled to find he still had fifteen minutes before he needed to leave. He dithered uncharacteristically next to the coat closet. He didn’t want to be late but he didn’t want to be the first one there, either.

The envelope that had been attached to his door caught his eye. It gleamed in the soft recessed lighting. He picked it up, reaching to pull the note from inside. His fingers hovered at the frayed top edge as he realized the back of the envelope itself held the message in pencil, then pen. Please! I don’t know if I need a lawyer but I do know I... The pencil lead had broken and blue ink took over....need your advice—advice underlined twice. Please, could you come to my apartment? ASAP! The ASAP was also underlined twice.

Lori Warren, it was signed. Apartment 339 had been added like an afterthought.

It’s an emergency.

He almost missed the last. The small print crawled up the side of the envelope. At least there were no happy faces or Merry Christmases added in shaky, flowing script. Bertha Thomas, the elderly widow across the hall, liked to add those when she left him little informative instructions once or twice a week about the obligations and duties of apartment living.

He read the note again, adding a “desperately” where the pencil lead had broken. The word wasn’t there in black and white, but he heard it in his head as clearly as if it were. The note screamed it.

Checking the time again, he grabbed his dress coat from the closet, flung it over his arm and patted his pants pocket to make sure he had his keys.

This—he fingered the envelope—would nicely fill the ten minutes remaining. He’d earn a few extra brownie points with his neighbors—not that he needed them. He wouldn’t be living here that long—and this was probably someone panicky about too many speeding tickets. The advice he would give was quick and cheap: Slow down and pay!

Lori glared at the noisy thud at the door. It had been the worst—and best—day of her life and she’d just gotten the baby to sleep. She wanted nothing more than to crash in a chair and become a zombie for a few minutes.

Instead, she hurried to the door...and opened it just in time. His fist was raised to knock again. She didn’t need this heavy-handed visitor hammering twice and waking the baby.

She didn’t need this visitor at all, she thought as she felt her jaw drop. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, with a sculpted face she was certain turned women to mush. Who else was going to turn up on her doorstep today? First a baby, now the gift from the gods she’d been fantasizing about.

She’d met him twice as she was coming out of the workout room in the basement of the apartment complex clubhouse. Sweaty and red-faced, both times she’d tried hard to blend with the woodwork and she’d prayed that she would meet him when she looked good. Why, oh, why couldn’t she run into this man when she didn’t look like something someone had pureed in the blender?

Third time’s a charm, she thought caustically as her hand automatically went to her hair. She could feel tangles beneath the short sprigs that were sticking out in every direction. The red suit she’d never gotten around to changing felt sticky from nervous perspiration and baby formula. She had a run the size of New York City climbing the back of her hose.

And he was standing there in a tuxedo, looking so picture-perfect he could have stepped off the top of a wedding cake. She didn’t know whether to drool or slam the door in his face.

“Lori Warren?” he asked, sounding as dismayed as she felt. Then he held up her envelope. “You left me this?”

“Mr. McAllister?”

He nodded, looking slightly startled as she grabbed his arm and yanked him into her apartment, closing the door behind him.

Her concerns about the way she looked were forgotten as tears formed in her eyes. “Oh, thank God, you’re here. You will never guess what happened today and I don’t...I can’t—”

“Slow down.” He held up an elegant hand. He used the same hand to touch the small of her back, half leading, half pushing her through the arch, past the low wall dividing the square foyer and into the small living room. “Come on. Let’s sit down. You can calmly tell me all about whatever the problem is.” He guided her toward the couch, stepping around the cluttered coffee table. He lowered his long length beside her as her knees gave out and she sat down.

She held her breath, studying her new neighbor. His hand on her back had felt reassuring. She felt adrift with it gone.

“Now,” he said gently, “tell me what happened today.”

She opened her mouth, then shook her head. She couldn’t find the words. The tears that had flowed so freely all day started again. She tried to stop them but they kept right on rolling. They rattled her. She never cried.

Today, they’d spurted when the baby cried, spurted when she’d left the baby asleep and alone for two minutes to take the elevator down to place the note on his door, spurted every single time she’d thought about the baby—and she’d thought of nothing else—or read the note...

The note. That might explain what she couldn’t. She grabbed it from the edge of the coffee table, gazing at it mindlessly for the hundredth time. She didn’t need to read it. She’d memorized it. It didn’t take much. Eleven words.

Eleven words that meant nothing, she realized, smoothing the note against her thigh. I know you won’t let anything bad happen to my baby.

“I don’t know what to do,” she mouthed soundlessly, searching his face and eyes, hoping to find wisdom there.

Tiny lines formed between his brows as he stared at the paper she still held. “Maybe it would help if I read it?”

She hesitated, then handed it to him.

He looked up from the carefully lettered sheet of white stationery. The lines deepened as his scowl turned to a full-fledged frown. “You want me to keep something bad from happening to your baby?”

She nodded yes, then immediately changed it to a no. She felt her lips quiver and pressed her mouth with her fingertips.

“We are talking about a baby?” he queried. He glanced at the paper again. “Little thing about—” he held out his hands to the appropriate size “—so big?”

She nodded and gave him a tremulous smile.

“Then we’re on the right track. I do know what they are,” he assured her with a wink. His charming sense of humor made her feel almost sane.

The sanity went right out the window with the baby’s cry from Lori’s bedroom. She jumped up and ran from the room without another thought to her visitor.

On her knees in the middle of the bed, Lori checked the baby’s diaper. She’d just changed it before she’d fed and managed to put the infant to sleep by sitting on the edge of the bed, swaying back and forth. That had been less than twenty minutes ago. Surely—

“What exactly are you expecting to happen to your baby that a lawyer can fix?” the man asked in a deep voice.

She glanced at the handsome figure who’d followed her and propped himself against the door frame.

“Have you been threatened? Is the baby’s father trying to take him away from you?”

“It’s a she,” Lori corrected. She’d found she couldn’t continue calling the baby a “him” when she’d changed her first diaper. She carefully lifted the babe and turned to sit down on the edge of the bed. Rocking automatically, she murmured softly and cradled the child against her. The baby immediately stopped crying.

If the past couple of hours had proved anything, they proved she had to trust someone. She’d thought she’d have an hour or two before the helpless being, who depended on her completely, woke again. Time to think. Time to figure out how to get more diapers. The baby was wearing the last one included in the surprise package this morning.

“It isn’t my baby,” she managed to whisper.

His back went ramrod straight. Those wonderful brown eyes sharpened. The light behind them said his mind worked quickly. They narrowed and directed suspicion at her. He was drawing the wrong conclusions!

“I didn’t steal her,” she protested.

His eyes widened. “You’re keeping her for a friend?”

“Sort of,” she prevaricated, unable to meet his gaze. “I found her. Outside my door. In that big box in the living room,” she added.

“With the note.” Understanding was beginning to dawn.

She rose, coming across the room carefully to protect the child from jolts. The tiny eyelids had fluttered closed again. The delicate mouth puckered and moved in the same motion the baby girl used to drink from her bottle. Maybe the infant would sleep for a while if Lori just continued to hold her.

The visitor seemed stunned. Speechless.

Lori jerked her head toward the light streaming down the hall from the living room. “Come on. Let’s go back out there. Will you give me some advice?”

He stepped aside, waiting for her to lead.

Lori eased down onto the edge of the couch. This time, he didn’t sit down beside her. Mr. McAllister stood before her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black trousers, ruining the elegant line of his impressive tuxedo.

He was the first one to speak. “When did you find her?”

“’Bout seven-thirty this morning.”

“You haven’t called the authorities?”

“I haven’t told anyone. Except you now,” she added. She wanted to be honest with him. Surely the what-you-get-out-is-only-as-good-as-what-you-put-in- rule applied to lawyers as well as computers. Truth was the only way she could expect to get good advice, wasn’t it?

“Why?”

“At first, I didn’t have time. I was occupied trying to figure out how to take care of her.” She realized she was still whispering. She cleared her throat. “Then I wasn’t sure who to call, what authority. And, by the time I could, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to call anyone. That’s when I left the note for you.”

His lips compressed in a solid, uncompromising line over those perfect white teeth. She glanced quickly away from him.

“Ms. Warren, you need to give me a retainer.”

That brought her attention back.

“Are you hiring me?” he asked. His face looked carved out of stone. “If you are, you need to give me some money.”

There was an urgency in his voice, something she couldn’t ignore but didn’t understand. Greed? Irritation set in so fast she had to consciously hold on to her temper and remind herself she didn’t want to wake the baby. He didn’t look nearly as good as he had a minute ago. She focused on keeping her voice calm. “Can you bill me? I just want a little bit of advice. I wanted—”

“Lady, if you’re hiring me,” he interrupted, “do it. Now.”

So much for the rave reviews she’d heard from various elderly neighbors about the nice lawyer who’d moved into the complex. No advice without money, huh? She resented his obvious conclusion that she wanted free advice. Couldn’t he bill her after the fact if there was a charge? One of the things she’d pondered at the back of her mind all day was whether she could afford a baby. She was living—barely—to the hilt of her income now. She would have to cut expenses somewhere, probably first by finding a less expensive apartment. She hadn’t considered legal expenses.

She lifted her chin. “I don’t know where I put my purse,” she said, looking around. It wasn’t on the kitchen counter where she usually set it. She’d been on her way out the door when she found the baby. She didn’t think she’d touched it since then.

“This it?” He spotted it on the floor beside the arch leading to the foyer just as her gaze landed there. He lifted it and handed it across to her.

“Thanks.” She juggled to open the wallet with one hand, then finally placed the open purse on the coffee table in front of her.

“Here, let me take the kid,” he offered. In a second, before Lori could think about it, the child was in his arms. He plopped the infant against his shoulder, bracing her nonchalantly with one arm. Lori resented his casual confidence with the baby as much as she resented his greed. Life really wasn’t fair.

“How much?” she asked stiffly, withdrawing two twenties from her wallet.

“Write me a check,” he replied absently. “That would be better.”

“Very well.” She got out her checkbook and pen. “How much? Will a hundred do? You can always bill me if it’s more,” she felt compelled to add.

“Fifty should do it,” he said. He patted the child as though he was an old hand at knowing what a baby needed. She looked smaller than ever compared to his hand. He glanced at his watch and grimaced as she handed him the check. He stuffed it in his pants pocket without looking at it. “Thanks.”

She would swear the sigh he emitted was one of relief. She held out her arms for the child.

“Let me take care of her for a few minutes,” he offered again, adding gently, “You look exhausted. Sit down. Take your time. I’ll hold the young‘un while you concentrate on telling me what you want me to do.”

“Isn’t that what I just hired you for? To tell me what I should do?” She couldn’t keep the indignation out of her voice.

“No, ma’am.” His soft chuckle surprised, then warmed her. “You hired me to keep us out of trouble.”

So many questions popped into her head she couldn’t begin to vocalize even one of them. Damn, he looked good, gazing at her with that devilish, killer smile—a direct contrast to the picture he made with the tiny baby against his broad chest.

“I have a feeling I’m about to see a crime committed,” he continued.

Her frown grew.

“If you’re going to admit to committing one, don’t you want our relationship covered by attorney/client privilege?”

“What crime?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure,” he said. “Kidnapping’s the closest thing I can think of.”

“I didn’t kidnap her. She was left on my doorstep.”

“Like I said, I don’t know specifically what law you’re breaking, but I’m confident that it’s illegal to find someone’s baby and just keep it. Am I right in guessing that’s your plan?”

“That’s what I want you to do. Tell me how to keep her. Legally,” she added.

“You found her this morning?” he asked, scowling as he ran a hand through his thick dark hair.

“Yes.”

“And you know you want to keep her? Some stranger’s baby? A baby you can’t be sure doesn’t have something wrong with her? Do you want her if she’s a crack baby or has AIDS or something?”

She looked at the child and silently prayed that she was healthy and normal. But even if she wasn’t perfect, it didn’t make a difference. It was something Lori hadn’t thought of, but she’d take care of the tiny child, she thought fiercely. “Yes,” she said again.

“What if the mother should change her—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, impatiently interrupting him. Maybe if the lawyer would quit looking at her with that subtle glimmer in his gaze, she could concentrate. “I want to keep her.”

“Then, first things first.” He moved easily to the end table, his movements not hampered at all by the baby. “We’ll call the police, make a report and then we’ll start the process of getting you appointed as her foster parent or guardian.”

She moved faster than she had all day. “No.” Her fingers closed over his as he started to lift the phone. His startled look had her withdrawing her hand quickly.

The tiny child stirred against his chest and began the thing with her mouth again. The motion tugged at Lori, sucking out and exposing a vein of protectiveness she didn’t know lay under the thick skin she’d worked so hard to develop. Lori resisted the urge to touch the baby. She probably couldn’t do it without touching him again.

“As an officer of the court, I’m obligated to report criminal acts,” he said softly. “If you hadn’t retained me as your lawyer, I’d be reporting this abandoned child right now. And as your attorney that’s what I advise.”

An officer of the court. The very words set her on edge, stiffened her spine and made her move away from him. Money had never been as well spent as the check she’d just written. It bound him and defined him as her advocate. He couldn’t do anything contrary to her wishes.

“Do this right, Lori Warren,” he urged. “Report her to the authorities, then neither of us has to worry. I’ll do my utmost to guarantee you’re appointed her guardian.”

“That’s the problem. You can’t guarantee anything.” His brown eyes held steady on her, making her want to smooth her hair, rearrange her clothing. “Can you?” she tacked on the challenge.

“I’m very good at what I do.”

“Then I’m glad I hired you.” She had to be the one to break their visual connection. She focused on the baby. “But do you know where this baby would be right now if I’d called the police this morning?”

He frowned. “In foster care?”

She nodded. “By now maybe, but in the meantime, she would have spent the day being passed around frantic offices at the police station or social service agencies.”

“By now, she’d be in a home,” he said.

“With four or five other foster children and maybe an additional child or two of the family’s,” she said dryly. “lfiose are the kinds of places willing to take children in an emergency and at a moment’s notice like this.” She glanced at her watch. “And right about now, if the foster mother is any good, all of those children will be clamoring for her attention while the poor frazzled woman is trying to fix dinner.”

“And if she’s not a good foster parent?”

“The children are trying to stay out of the way and beneath anyone’s notice.” Lori made the mistake of looking at him again.

His brows lowered, matching the mouth that slanted in a concerned frown. “You’re speaking from experience? You’ve lived in foster homes?” They were questions but his voice said he knew the answer. His eyes darkened with sympathy.

She raised her chin a smidge. “I survived. The system made me strong.” She crossed the couple of feet that separated them and held out her empty arms. “That doesn’t mean it has to be that way for this little one. Not if I can help it,” she added determinedly as he handed the sleeping child over.

She tried to imitate the manner in which he’d cradled the helpless little girl—one-armed, between his neck and chest. She found herself leaning so far backward to compensate, she was afraid she’d pitch over. She gave up the attempt.

“Are you going to just keep calling her Baby or Little One?” he asked with an amused smile that turned into a thoughtful frown. “I’m surprised her mother didn’t give her a name in the note.”

Lori had been so busy trying to take care of the child, she hadn’t thought about it. Of course, the baby needed a name. She felt inadequate all over again. “Any suggestions?”

He lifted a shoulder. “The logical choice would be Jane,” he said. “That’s what the authorities would be calling her. As in Jane Doe? That’s what they call every female they don’t have a name for,” he added.

Jane Doe was as generic as Baby and reminded Lori of dead bodies in a TV movie. The thought validated Lori’s decision not to report her to anyone. It hadn’t occurred to her that they would call someone alive that. She shuddered. “I’m not calling her Baby Jane Doe.”

“Maybe Rose?” he suggested. “You know, like a Christmas rose. You found her blooming at your door?”

Lori peered at the child. Her nosed crinkled in the habitual response she’d been trying to break ever since one of her foster mothers had pointed out that the frown would eventually cause wrinkles. She commanded her face to relax. “She doesn’t look like a Rose to me.”

“I think it’s too early to tell,” Andy said.

She glanced at him to catch the smile in his voice. “A name does seem like such an important thing. I should have thought of it.”

He met her eyes in that direct way he had and his grin faded. “Whatever name you choose, it probably won’t stick,” he warned. He’d moved and was standing much too close. “In all likelihood—” he cleared his throat “—you are going to lose this child eventually, Lori. At least for a while. Are you certain you don’t want to call the police now? Before you get too attached?”

“It’s too late.” His logic grated at her practical side, the side she tried to use when dealing with life in general. Unfortunately, even that commonsense side of her had deserted her today. She felt much too sensitive, too tender. She felt herself going on the defensive. “I can handle it,” she said. “Besides, you are going to help me. You’re very good at what you do. Remember?”

“I remember.” He touched her cheek, then stiffened and dropped his hand to his side. “But I’d be a lousy lawyer if I didn’t advise you of the probabilities.”

“I know. And I do appreciate it.” The baby was an excellent excuse to move away from him, around him. “I think she’s wet,” she commented.

“Can I get you a diaper?” he offered.

“Oh, no.” She closed her eyes. “This is the last one. I forgot. I have to...I need...” She let her shoulders droop and started over. “Since you came here in that monkey suit, I know you didn’t come here to spend the evening but...”

He winced as if the reminder was painful and checked his watch. She suspected whatever function he was supposed to attend was important. “I thought this would be something minor,” he explained. “Something that would take ten minutes, but you just hired me as your attorney and I—”

“It’s obvious you have other plans,” she interrupted. “I’m grateful that you came at all. You must be anxious to get...wherever. But could you stay, maybe spare ten minutes more?” she pleaded, feeling guilty even as she asked. “With the baby? So I can run to the store and get more stuff to feed her and some diapers? I’ll hurry. I promise. I don’t know what else to do. It’s cold out and...and—”

“Let me go to the store for you.” He held up a hand. “It’ll be quicker.” He checked his watch again. “Believe me,” he added with a whimsical lift of his eyebrows, “this has been much more interesting than the cocktail hour I’m missing. I’ll get your things and still manage to make my appearance at the dinner. That’s the important thing.”

She nodded and reached for her purse.

“The diapers and formula are my treat.” He grabbed his coat from the end of the couch where he must have put it when he followed her to the bedroom. “What kind of formula did her mother leave?”

Lori hurried to get an empty can from the kitchen garbage. “Mr. McAllister...” she started as she handed it to him.

“Call me Andy.” His dark eyes sparkled. “Might be better under the circumstance, don’t you think?”

All day, she’d pictured the “Mr. McAllister” that people around the complex had talked about as a stern, older, fatherly, serious lawyer type. That image definitely did not fit this man. She felt her face grow hot, remembering her daydreams outside the apartment complex’s exercise room. She prayed he couldn’t read her thoughts now.

“I appreciate...” She shook her head, knowing she had to concentrate on what she was saying if she wanted to express her feelings adequately. She failed. “I do appreciate everything you’re doing for us, Andy.”

“How could I resist?” he asked softly. His gaze felt as physical as the hand he had. rested on the baby’s back. His subtle cologne wafted over to Lori. “I won’t have but a minute when I bring back the diapers but I’ll come back later, after the dinner, if you’d like. Will you and the baby be all right until then?”

She nodded with more certainty than she’d felt all day.

His thumb teased the corner of her mouth. “Smile. We will get through this.” He winked, then raised his hand in a salute.

Lori watched the door close behind him. Speechless, confused by the crazy, erratic variety of emotions that had washed, one after another, over her all day, she stood rooted to the spot and experienced a whole new set of emotions.

She’d spent all her life trying to gain independence and become self-reliant. She’d finally achieved what she’d been striving for: she could say with confidence that she needed no one.

One tiny baby left at her door—someone who needed her—and suddenly, she was back where she’d started from. She needed and had to depend on someone else. She should find the thought abhorrent. She didn’t. She was eager to accept help, she excused her optimistic feelings toward the man offering it, because of the baby.

She stroked the tiny head so near her own. She placed a soft kiss where her fingers had just been. “We’ll take all the help we can get, won’t we?” she whispered.

The baby wiggled her nose and snuggled closer.

“Now,” Lori said, going back to the couch to sit down, “all we have to do is figure out how to take care of you. I have a feeling Mr. Flop-You-Around-Like-He-Knows-What-He’s -Doing McAllister will be helpful there, too.”

Even though they hadn’t resolved a thing, the crushing burden she’d carried around all day felt lighter. And she hadn’t cried like an idiot for at least half an hour. Lori sighed and relaxed.

He’d promised to come back later.