Baby Vs. The Bar. M.J. Rodgers

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СКАЧАТЬ wheelchair. The woman shook her head and moved her hands again.

      “Well, that’s it, then,” Marc said, relieved. “Let’s go.”

      But just as they began to turn away from the scene on the other side of the glass, a toddler, who had previously been hidden from view behind the wheelchair, stomped sturdily over to the chimp, grabbed it by the paw and began to lead it to the bookcase.

      As soon as the second boy, wearing a tiger-striped outfit, came into view, Louie Demerchant grabbed Marc’s arm with a grip of iron and sucked in a shocked breath.

      Marc looked at his companion. “Mr. Demerchant, what is it?”

      “Truesdale, don’t you see? That toddler with the chimp. Look at the color of his hair, his bright blue eyes, his cocky little walk. By God, I’d know him anywhere! That’s David’s son!”

      Marc’s eyes swung to the sturdy little boy who was now carrying a book and leading the chimp back to the woman in the wheelchair. The woman was nodding and smiling and gesturing.

      Marc watched the boy as the woman in the wheelchair took the book from him. He immediately began to fiddle with the masking tape wrapped around the shoulder button of his tiger-striped outfit. In mere seconds, he had worked both it and the button free. He pulled off his clothing, diaper and all. Then, with a mischievous squeal, he ran around the wheelchair, just out of reach of the woman’s hands, in what was obviously a favorite game.

      Children, particularly ones this young, seldom looked like their parents. This one certainly didn’t look like Remy at all. But Louie Demerchant was absolutely right. He did look exactly, uncannily, like David Demerchant.

      Until that second—that very second—Marc had not believed it possible. But looking at that little toddler and his antics, he now had no doubt. This boy was his dead friend’s son.

      “What are you doing in here!” an angry voice demanded from behind them.

      Marc whirled around and came face-to-face with the golden flames in the cinnamon eyes of one very angry Dr. Remy Westbrook.

      He had absolutely no idea what to say to her. Louie Demerchant suffered no such hesitation. He bounded forward and wrapped his big arms around the mother of his great-grandson, crushing her to his barrel chest in an old-fashioned bear hug.

      “Thank you so much for having him! You don’t know what you’ve done for me!”

      * * *

      REMY PUSHED AGAINST Louie Demerchant’s chest, trying to free herself from the unwanted, exuberant embrace. But despite his seventy-five-plus years, the tall, silver-and-auburn-haired man proved to be as strong as an ox. She couldn’t budge him.

      She lifted her head, ready to demand he let her go, but found she couldn’t when she saw the tears swimming in his moist gray eyes.

      Damn.

      Louie Demerchant was crazy, of course. But he was obviously sincere. She could forgive this deluded old man who was so desperate to find a great-grandson. But his controlling, pushy attorney was another matter altogether. She deeply resented this impossible position he’d just put her in with Demerchant. Deeply.

      After a moment, Louie Demerchant released her and turned his head away, pulling an old-fashioned handkerchief out of his pocket to dry his eyes. Remy immediately faced Marc Truesdale, the real culprit in this awkward assembly.

      She kept her tone quiet and controlled, but it took a lot of effort. “If you are not out of here in one minute, I’m calling campus security to throw you out.”

      “We have a pass to tour the center,” Marc countered with all the polish of his brassy manner as he stepped forward and fished a paper out of his suit pocket. He grasped her hand and slid the paper into it.

      Remy took a deep, startled breath as she felt the bold insistence of his warm touch melting inside her like hot molasses. The physical reaction to his touch infuriated her, but it excited her, too. Very much. Too damn much.

      His eyes held hers until she tore them away to look at what he had forced into her hand. She snatched both the pass and her hand from out of his grasp.

      She looked at the pass, then at Demerchant, and finally back to Marc. “So now it becomes clear who the mysterious anonymous donor of twenty thousand dollars is and why Dr. Feeson kept trying to delay me in his office.”

      “Mr. Demerchant just wanted to see—”

      “You don’t have to tell me what Mr. Demerchant wanted to see,” Remy interrupted Marc, her eyes blazing as she tore up the pass. “This paper is worthless. There are no unescorted passes to my building.”

      She swung back to face the older man. “Mr. Demerchant, I understand you are in pain over your tragic loss, but you will only invite more pain if you allow yourself to be deluded further. My child is not your great-grandson.”

      Louie Demerchant smiled indulgently as he pointed to Nicholas, who was now being firmly held by the male lab assistant on the other side of the soundproof glass. “But he is, Dr. Westbrook. It’s all over his cute little mug. What’s his name?”

      Remy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Please leave. Both of you,” she said, far more calmly than she felt. “Immediately.”

      “Let me bring by a baby video of David that we had made from an old home movie,” Louie pleaded. “All you have to do is take a look.”

      “Mr. Demerchant, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to look at your grandson’s baby video. Even if there is a resemblance between him and my child, it proves nothing. A lot of babies resemble adults who are not their parents. Now, this is over. Leave.”

      “Come on, Mr. Demerchant,” Marc said, taking hold of his arm. “We’d best go.”

      “But he’s David’s child! He’s my great-grandchild!” Louie protested.

      “Mr. Demerchant, I’ll handle this.”

      Remy watched as Louie Demerchant reluctantly let Marc lead him toward the door. But just before they exited the room, Marc turned to Remy, his lips drawn back into a charming smile, his cobalt blue eyes icy with intent. “I’ll be back,” he said.

      It was a promise. And a threat.

      A crazy shiver filled with both excitement and dread ran up Remy’s spine.

      She was still listening to the echoes of their shoes down the long corridor and fighting her conflicting emotions, when Phil wheeled herself in from the sign-language room.

      “Well, Nicholas has pulled his strip act again and... Remy? For heaven’s sake, you look ghastly. What’s up?”

      “Phil, I’m beginning to think a trip out of the country might not be such a bad idea, after all. Do you think you could carry on without Nicholas and me for a few weeks?”

      “You’re considering leaving your work? Remy, what’s happened?”

      Remy told Phil about the visit from Demerchant and Marc Truesdale.

      “So СКАЧАТЬ