Desperately Seeking Dad. Marta Perry

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ arms tightened around the baby. “I’ve taken care of Emilie since the day she was born. Her mother wanted me to adopt her. Why would you want to stand in the way?”

      They were right where they’d started, and she wouldn’t like his answer.

      “I don’t.” He leaned forward, bridged the gap between them and touched the baby’s cheek. It earned him a smile. “She’s a cute kid. But she’s not mine.”

      She turned away abruptly, bending to slide the baby into the stroller. Emilie fussed for an instant, until Anne put a stuffed toy in front of her.

      When she straightened, her eyes were chips of blue ice. “I’m not trying to trap you into anything.”

      “I’d like to believe that, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m still not her father.”

      She gave an impatient shrug. “I’ve told you the mother named you.”

      “You haven’t even told me who she is. Or how you fit into this story.” He was finally starting to think like a cop. It was about time. “Look.” He tried to find the words that would gain him some cooperation. “I believe I’m not this child’s father. You believe I am. Seems to me, two reasonable adults can sit down and get everything out in the open. How do you expect me to react when an accusation like this comes out of nowhere?”

      He could see her assess his words from every angle.

      “All right,” she said finally. “You know what my interest is. I want to adopt Emilie.”

      There had to be a lot more to the story than that, but he’d settle for the bare bones at the moment. “And the mother? Who was she? What happened to her?”

      He gripped the edge of the desk behind him. He probably shouldn’t fire questions at her, but he couldn’t help it.

      She frowned. Maybe she was editing her words. “Her mother’s name was Tina Mallory. Now do you remember her?”

      The name landed unpleasantly between them. Tina Mallory. He wanted to be able to say he’d never heard of her, but he couldn’t, because the name echoed with some faint familiarity. He’d heard it before, but where? And how much of his sense of recognition did Anne Morden guess?

      “How am I supposed to have known her?”

      “She lived here in Bedford Creek at one time.”

      In Bedford Creek. If she’d lived here, why didn’t he remember her? “I’m afraid it still doesn’t ring any bells.”

      That was only half-right. It rang a bell; he just didn’t know why.

      “Doesn’t the police chief know everyone in a town this small?” Her eyebrows arched.

      Before he could come up with an answer, the telephone rang, and seconds later Wanda Clay bellowed, “Chief! Call for you.”

      Anne’s silky black hair brushed her shoulders as she glanced toward the door.

      He reached for the phone. “Excuse me. I have to do the job the town pays me for.”

      He picked up the receiver, turned away from her. It was a much-needed respite. He let Mrs. Bennett’s complaint about her neighbors drift through his mind. He didn’t need to listen, often as he’d heard the same story. What he did need to do was think. He had to find some way to put off Anne Morden until he figured out who Tina Mallory was.

      “We’ll take care of it, Mrs. Bennett, I promise.” A few more soothing phrases, and he hung up.

      Anne looked as if she wanted to tap her foot with impatience. “Now can we discuss this?”

      The phone rang again, giving him the perfect excuse. “Not without interruption, as you can see. Where are you staying?”

      She stiffened. “I hadn’t intended to be here that long. Why can’t we finish this now?”

      “Because I have a job to do.” His mind twisted around obstacles. He’d also better run a check on Anne Morden before he did another thing. He at least had to make sure she was who she claimed to be. “How about getting together this evening?”

      “This evening?” She made it sound like an eternity. “It’s a three-hour drive back to Philadelphia, and Emilie’s tired already.”

      He was tempted to say Take it or leave it, but now was not the time for ultimatums. It might come to that, but not if he could make her see she was wrong.

      “Look, this is too important to rush. Why don’t you plan to stay over?”

      “I’d like to get home tonight.”

      Her tone had softened a little. At least she was considering his suggestion.

      “Isn’t this more important?” He pushed the advantage.

      She looked at the baby, then back at him, and nodded slowly. “It’s worth staying, if I can get this cleared up once and for all.”

      Mitch took a piece of notepaper from the desk and scribbled an address on it. “The Willows is a bed-and-breakfast. Kate Cavendish will take good care of you.”

      He considered it a minor triumph when she accepted the paper.

      “All right.” Maybe she’d anticipated all along that this wouldn’t be settled in a hurry. “If that’s what it takes, Emilie and I will stay over. When can I expect to see you?”

      He glanced at his watch, reviewing all he’d need to accomplish. “Say between six and seven?”

      She nodded hesitantly, as if wary of agreeing to anything he said. “I’ll see you then.”

      He didn’t breathe until she and the baby were gone. Then it felt as if he hadn’t breathed the whole time she’d been there. Well, the news she’d brought would rattle anyone.

      Just how much stock could he put in what Anne Morden said? He leaned back in his chair, considering.

      It didn’t take much effort to picture her sitting across from him. Cool composure—that was the first thing he’d noticed about her. She’d reminded him of every smart, savvy attorney he’d ever locked horns with, except that she was beautiful. Hair as silky and black as a ripple of satin, skin like creamy porcelain, eyes blue as a mountain lake.

      Beautiful. Also way out of his class, with her designer clothes and superior air.

      Well, beautiful or not, Ms. Anne Morden had to be checked out. He hoped he could find some ammunition with which to defend himself, before she blew his life apart.

      He reached for the phone.

       Chapter Two

       A nne put a light blanket over Emilie, who slept soundly in the crib Mrs. Cavendish had installed in the bedroom of the suite. Nothing, it seemed, was too much trouble for a friend of Chief Donovan’s. No one else was staying at the bed-and-breakfast now, and Mrs. Cavendish—Kate, she’d insisted Anne call СКАЧАТЬ