Baby's First Christmas. Cathy Thacker Gillen

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      “Call us if you need anything,” her dad said.

      Her parents kissed her and left, walking far apart as if they were strangers. Lindy hugged Kate, promised to return with the suitcase and followed them out the door.

      Michael stood. “I’ll go, too.”

      “No.” Kate reached out and caught his hand before he could depart. “I need to talk to you a minute, Michael.” She tugged him closer until he sat on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry my father grilled you that way.” Kate shook her head in mounting exasperation, already knowing what Michael didn’t, that this was just the beginning of her father’s involvement in the situation. “Sometimes he can be such a lawyer.” Making mountains out of molehills.

      Michael grinned, understanding and accepting her father’s protective behavior. “That’s okay,” he said gently. “In his place, I probably would have behaved much the same way. And speaking of reactions—your mother didn’t say much.”

      Kate made a face and predicted dryly, “Which is another curious thing. Before the separation from my dad, she would’ve lectured me soundly and told me she knew this cockeyed plan of mine to have a child via artificial insemination would lead to trouble. Since she left my dad, she tells me to go for everything and grab as much gusto from this life as I can.”

      That did sound like a mid-life crisis, Michael thought, as he playfully nudged her thigh with his and attempted to lighten the mood and get Kate’s mind off family problems she was unable to do anything about. “Hey, Timmy’s no trouble,” he teased with a wink. “In fact, as far as newborn babies go, he’s a little angel.”

      Kate made a comical face at him, then chided dryly, “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it, Dr. Sloane.”

      Michael bestowed on her a sexy grin and covered her hand with his. “Ah. You think I’m trouble, then.”

      In a certain, very sexy way, maybe he was, Kate thought a tad wistfully. And suddenly that didn’t seem like such a bad thing. Kate found after all the months alone she was in the mood for a little trouble of the romantic variety, as long as it didn’t unnecessarily complicate her life. Smiling, she said, “I think the situation we’re in is trouble.”

      Michael shrugged his broad shoulders. “It is sticky, I’ll grant you that,” he said in a low, serious voice. “It doesn’t mean we can’t handle it. So far, after we both weathered the initial shock, we’ve proven that we can handle it just fine.”

      His confidence—his willingness to conquer this challenge—was contagious. It lifted her spirits immediately. Unfortunately, Kate knew there were even rockier roads ahead. And she knew for certain that in the few short hours she’d known Michael, her life had changed. She wanted the chance to see where the future would lead.

      Still holding his eyes, she drew a bolstering breath. “The nurse asked me earlier to fill out information for Timmy’s birth certificate. She left the forms in the drawer. You should probably have a look at them, too.”

      Michael looked at her thoughtfully as he retrieved the papers.

      “I didn’t know how we should fill them out,” Kate told him as he perused the sheets. “So I’ll just come right out and ask.” Kate brought herself up short. She took a deep breath, aware her hands were trembling. “Do you want your name on Timmy’s birth certificate? Do you want to be legally known as his father?”

       Chapter Three

      Michael hadn’t known what to expect when he had tracked Kate down, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he would be so attracted to her, physically and otherwise, or be on hand to single-handedly bring their baby into the world in the back of a powder-blue delivery van. But all that had happened, and it had changed him—and probably Kate, too—forever. Just as the step they were about to take would change all their lives forever, too.

      “I think it’s important for a lot of reasons that his birth certificate state the whole truth. So the answer is, yes, Kate,” he told her softly, “I do.” In fact, if the truth be known, he was now hoping for much more than that.

      Kate looked into his eyes. Abruptly, she looked as overcome with emotion as he. It had been, Michael thought, one hell of an eventful day. “Then the truth it will be,” she echoed softly.

      In the bassinet, Timmy squirmed beneath the white flannel blanket he’d been swaddled in and, his cherubic face pinkening, started to whimper. Michael and Kate turned in time to see his dark lashes flutter open to reveal a pair of big baby-blue eyes.

      Michael smiled, amazed at the depth of the affection already welling inside him as he contemplated their newborn baby boy. “Looks like our son is waking up.”

      Kate grinned, as eager to get more thoroughly acquainted with their baby as he was. “He’s probably hungry,” she stated, as a pink flush crept into her cheeks. Her glance cut briefly to Michael. “I haven’t breast-fed him yet.”

      And, Michael knew, that was supposed to be done within the first five or six hours after birth. As soon as both baby and mother—who were usually exhausted from the birth—were up to it. Glad he was going to be around to witness this, too, Michael asked, “Do you want me to bring him to you?”

      Kate pushed the button that raised the head of her bed until she was sitting up. Her green eyes glittered with excitement as she tucked the gently curving ends of her silky blond bob behind her ears. She shot him a grateful glance that made her seem—in his eyes, anyway—all the more angelically beautiful. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

      Timmy’s eyes widened as Michael slid one hand beneath his head and neck, the other beneath his back and legs, and lifted him from the bassinet. Michael grinned as Timmy stopped crying immediately and blinked at him.

      “Hey, there,” Michael teased in way of greeting. “Remember me? I brought you into the world.” Timmy cooed and gurgled in response as Michael lowered him gently and put him in Kate’s arms.

      Kate stroked the straight, downy soft hair on Timmy’s head as Timmy regarded her with unabashed delight. “I think he does recognize you, Michael.”

      Michael studied his son’s cherubic face, deciding Ted Montgomery was right—Timmy did have Kate’s chin. And nose. And eyes. Along with his daddy’s dark, straight hair. “I think he knows your voice, too,” Michael said.

      “Probably.” Kate chuckled. “I’ve done nothing but talk and sing and read to him for the last nine months.”

      Somehow, Michael thought, as he went to get a diaper from the corner of the bassinet, that didn’t surprise him. He had known from the first Kate was going to be one devoted mother.

      He brought the diaper back and watched as Kate unwrapped the white flannel blanket. They changed him together, marveling over his tiny perfect form, as Timmy squirmed. Deciding to reswaddle him after he’d been fed, Kate lifted Timmy toward her. Abruptly, she looked unsure how to proceed. “I’ve never done this before.”

      “And you’re feeling self-conscious and would like some help,” Michael guessed, finding that perfectly understandable. He touched her shoulder compassionately, then volunteered, “I’ll go see if I can round up a nurse.”

      When СКАЧАТЬ