Verdict: Daddy. Charlotte Douglas

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      As Blake pulled away from the curb, the old bitterness tightened her chest. Harry had led her to believe a lot of things, none of them true. Her father, who’d learned to read people well in his line of work, had warned her about Harry from the beginning, but she’d been too infatuated to listen, too blinded by the man’s good looks, slick charm, silver tongue and her own raging hormones to observe the obvious.

      She’d expected a marriage like her parents had, one of mutual love, devotion, humor and unfailing friendship. When she’d realized the man she’d married was all talk and no substance, she’d been too embarrassed to admit her mistake. She had tried to make the marriage work to avoid I-told-you-so from friends and family members who’d seen instantly what she’d been too besotted to notice until months after the honeymoon.

      Their relationship had turned rocky, but Marissa had hoped that having children would settle Harry down. She’d yearned for a baby to hold in her arms and nurture, but Harry had refused to start a family. He always had an excuse: they were too young; they didn’t have enough money; they needed to buy a house first.

      And when they had grown older, saved money and bought a house, Marissa pressed again for children. But Harry had made himself scarce. At first Marissa believed that he was working too hard, spending long hours on the road in his sales job—until she found the motel receipt in the suit that she was taking to the cleaners, a receipt for a double occupancy room.

      She’d confronted Harry, and he’d denied it, claimed the double occupancy was a clerical error. She’d believed him because she’d needed to. What woman wanted to admit her husband was cheating on her? But as Harry grew more distant, colder, even cruel in his remarks and attitude, Marissa had taken matters into her own hands. She’d hired a private investigator who’d often been engaged by the law firm where she worked. The private eye had dug up enough dirt to bury Harry. Photographs and all.

      The evidence had forced Marissa to admit what she’d spent seven years trying to avoid. The man she thought she’d married didn’t exist. Her husband, Harry, was a selfish, greedy womanizer who’d taken from Marissa all their married life and given nothing back, neither the love and respect she deserved nor the children she’d wanted so desperately.

      Thanks to her knowledge of the law and her connections in the legal community, Marissa had divorced Harry so quickly he’d staggered with shock. He’d begged her to take him back, promised to drop the little slut he’d been shacking up with for the past five years. By this time, Marissa had lost her blinders and regained her self-esteem. She had recognized that Harry loved only the prestige and income that had come with a successful attorney for a wife. And she had walked away with only one regret.

      She was thirty-six years old. Time was ticking away on her biological clock, and she was facing the fact that she might never have the big family she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl.

      And now, as if rubbing salt in a wound, she was being driven against her will to see a baby that some woman, one too stupid to realize how lucky she was to have a child of her own, had abandoned.

      “You okay?” Blake’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

      “Just ducky.” Marissa couldn’t keep the edge from her words. “It isn’t every day I get manhandled and kidnapped.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      He sounded sincere, and she felt instant regret that she’d taken out her anger at Harry and at her own stupidity on Blake. She was overreacting but couldn’t seem to help herself.

      “I didn’t know anyone else I could trust,” Blake added, “so I’m counting on you.”

      “What’s trust got to do with this?”

      He tossed her a radiant smile that eased the hurt of her lingering memories. “I figured any other attorney I contacted would have called the cops right away.”

      “I would have if you’d let me.”

      “Your receptionist would have called them if you’d told her to.” He reached across and gently squeezed her hand. “But you didn’t. And I’m grateful for your giving me a chance.”

      His touch pleased her more than she wanted to admit. “I never promised not to turn you in.”

      “Like I said before, you attorneys come up with loopholes all the time. When you see Annie, you’ll want to find one for her.”

      “If nothing else, I want the woman caught who was heartless enough to abandon her own child.”

      “Maybe she’s not heartless,” Blake countered reasonably. “Maybe there’re extenuating circumstances we know nothing about.”

      “Right. Like having a kid cramps her style.”

      The look he threw her this time was quizzical. “I guess dealing with criminals does that to you.”

      “Does what?”

      “Makes you cynical.”

      She shook her head. How could she admit that her former husband, not her job, had hardened her attitude? It wasn’t something she wanted to recognize, much less talk about. “I’m just being realistic. And you should be, too.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “You say you want custody of this baby until suitable parents are found. Do you have any idea how long that could take?”

      He shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “With so many couples out there looking for a baby to adopt, it shouldn’t take long.”

      “The legal red tape alone could take months, a year or more. And what if you grow fond of Annie during that time? Will you be prepared to hand her over to strangers?” She was taking her frustration out on him again, but she was helpless to stop herself. “And in the meantime, while you’re waiting for the right parents, since you have a business to run, who will take care of this baby?”

      “I’ll hire Agnes.”

      She cast him a dubious glance.

      “I make good money,” he insisted. “I can afford it.”

      “It takes more than money to be a good parent,” she snapped.

      “Why are you so upset?”

      “Aside from being manhandled and kidnapped?” she said, bristling again.

      “All other things being equal,” he replied in his calm, composed way that only fueled her irritation.

      How could she respond to that comment when all other things weren’t equal? How stupid would she sound if she answered that her dissatisfaction came from the fact that a woman who had a baby hadn’t wanted it, and Marissa, who hungered for a child like dry ground for water, hadn’t a hope of being a mom?

      She forced herself to take a deep breath, disengage her emotions and look at the facts. She’d learned long ago to ignore her personal feelings when handling a case. Feelings clouded her judgment. Blake might be a childhood friend, but he was first and foremost her client. She couldn’t give her best legal advice if her own desires were riding roughshod over her reasoning.

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