Maybe My Baby. Victoria Pade
to take a shower but that was no quick thing. She had to deal with the peculiarities of a pitifully poor spray of water that literally ran hot one minute, cold the next, and never just warm enough to stand under.
She’d wanted to do something nice with her hair. Something nicer, more youthful and definitely more attractive than the bun. But that would have taken too long so she ended up leaving it to fall loosely around her shoulders.
And as for clothes, she could hardly dawdle when it came to deciding what to wear, and quickly chose a pair of black slacks and a long-sleeved, white, split-V-neck T-shirt. Then she applied blush and mascara—as fast as she did in her car on the way to her office when she’d slept through her alarm.
Yet it was still noon before she grabbed the black knee-length cardigan sweater she’d brought with her and bounded down the stairs to knock on Aiden’s door.
“It’s open. Come on in.”
A shiver that had nothing to do with the barely above-freezing temperature outside actually shook her at the sound of his voice through the closed door. Before she opened it she reminded herself how much she had riding on this trip and how much damage she could do to herself by allowing an unprofessional response to this man.
Besides, she’d already had her life scrambled by a nature boy, and she knew better than to get too close to another one. She and Aiden Tarlington were oil and water, and the two just didn’t mix.
Remember that, she ordered herself as she went inside.
“Hi,” he greeted, the moment she did.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with Mickey in the baby carrier in front of him so that he could feed the infant what looked to be applesauce.
Emmy returned his greeting and then debated about making an excuse for why she was putting in such a late appearance. But the fact that Aiden didn’t question her gave her the opportunity not to explain herself and so she didn’t.
“We’re just finishing up lunch here,” he informed her. “Help yourself to something to eat.”
Emmy was struck all over again by the lack of formality, but she went to the other side of the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee.
There were still a few sandwiches from the night before in the fridge and, in the interest of letting him think she’d been up for more than an hour, she chose one of those to bring back with her to the table rather than having the toast or cereal she would have preferred as her first meal of the day.
As Emmy joined Aiden and Mickey at the table, Aiden was intent on persuading the baby to accept another bite of food. Not being in the conversation left Emmy free to drink in the sight of the big man.
He had on blue jeans and a blue-plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows exposing the cuffs of a darker blue crew-neck T-shirt that also showed behind the open collar. He looked more like a lumberjack than a doctor but he was something to behold nevertheless.
“So I see Mickey is still here,” Emmy commented, when the infant took the spoonful of what was indeed applesauce.
“Still here,” Aiden confirmed.
“Mmm-hmm. And you’re still going with the story that he was just left here,” Emmy said, unable to suppress a knowing smile at what she was convinced was an elaborate ruse instigated by Howard.
“I’m still going with the story because it’s the only story there is.”
She decided to call his bluff. “If Mickey has really been abandoned shouldn’t you call the police or Child Protective Services or someone with the authority to do something about it?”
Aiden showed no sign of wavering. “That might be what I should do if I was somewhere else,” he explained smoothly. “But we don’t have anyone in Boonesbury to call. State police provide law enforcement on the rare occasions we need it, but since this isn’t an emergency it could be days or even weeks before they get around to sending someone. There’s a Social Services office in Fairbanks but I’d have to take Mickey to them.”
“That seems like what you should do, then,” Emmy said, still testing.
Until something else even more outlandish occurred to her.
“Unless he could be yours,” she said with a full measure of challenge in her tone.
But Aiden didn’t pick up the gauntlet she’d dropped. He didn’t raise his eyebrows at the very suggestion. He didn’t balk and defend himself in instant outrage.
Instead his slightly bushy eyebrows pulled into a frown that actually seemed unnerved by exactly that possibility.
“Could he be yours?” Emmy repeated in shock.
Again there was no quick denial.
In his own sweet time Aiden said, “I’m going to have to do some digging before I can answer that.”
Which obviously meant that there was a possibility Mickey might be his.
And for absolutely no reason Emmy could put her finger on, she felt a swell of something that seemed like jealousy. Although, of course that couldn’t have been what it was.
“Oh,” she said quietly, hating that she sounded so incredulous.
Aiden didn’t seem to notice, though. He was very serious now and he stopped feeding Mickey to level those incredible blue eyes on her. “I know it looks bad that there’s even the chance that I could have a baby I had no idea existed. You’re probably thinking it makes me an irresponsible jerk who shouldn’t be caring for Boonesbury’s citizens, let alone be the person who would oversee your grant money. But it isn’t like that.”
Actually she’d been too stunned to think anything. But she let silence pretend that was exactly what had been on her mind so he would go on.
Which was what he did.
“It’s a long, personal story,” he said. “But if Mickey is mine—and I’m not convinced that he is—but if he is, it was a matter of one night when I hit rock bottom and pickled myself in a bottle of scotch. Now that’s something I’d never done before and haven’t done since. But that night I ended up so out of it I don’t remember what happened. Until now I’d been sure nothing had, and that may still be the case. Mickey’s being left here could be something entirely separate from that night. From me. I just don’t know. But either way, I’ll have to find out what’s going on.”
Emmy stared at him. Intently. She searched his eyes, his handsome face. And she suddenly began to doubt that this was a test Howard had set up. This man was too uncomfortable admitting this to her, too embarrassed to have to admit it to her, for it not to be real.
“Did you call the woman who could be Mickey’s mother to ask if he’s yours?” Emmy inquired, maybe testing just a little more.
“The woman’s name is Nora Finley and I haven’t seen or heard from her since that night I thought I’d just given her a place to stay. She lives in a cabin a long way from anywhere and she doesn’t have a phone. She’ll have to be tracked down, and the best way to do that is to put out a message over the radio. There’s a station in Cochran—that’s the nearest town to Boonesbury. Their signal is strong so it gets picked up pretty far out. I called there and they’re going to report on Mickey on their newscast, requesting that anyone with any information about him contact me or the station, and they’ll be broadcasting regular messages from me to Nora, asking for Nora to contact me as soon as possible. That will all start tomorrow since they don’t air on Sunday.”
So he was trying to reach this woman over public airwaves to ask if they’d slept together, if she’d had his baby and if she’d left that baby on his doorstep?
No one would choose to do that unless they had to.
“This isn’t something Howard arranged in order to see how I handled complications and distractions on these trips, is it?”
Aiden