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Instant Daddy
Carol Voss


The toddler in Jessica Chandler's arms is Dr. Peter Sheridan's spitting image.Down to the auburn hair, dark brown eyes, cleft chin–and small birthmark on his jaw. Peter had no idea he had a child. Or that the baby's mother passed on, and his son was being raised by her twin sister, Jessie. A workaholic with few personal ties, Peter has no clue how to be a father. Though Jessie fears he'll take the boy away, she's willing to show Peter how to be there for his son. But can she open her heart to this instant daddy, as well?









Jake lunged out of his chair and hit the linoleum floor with a thud.


Peter shut his eyes as Jessie scooped up the toddler. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off him.”

Jessie’s heart ached for Peter. “I should have warned you he likes to jump.”

What had she been thinking? She’d been selfish and smug trying to show Peter he couldn’t be a parent. He was a parent. A parent who wanted to know his son and for his son to know him. Didn’t every child deserve to know his daddy?

She’d die before she’d give Jake up. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t share him, did it?

“He could have gotten seriously hurt,” Peter said miserably. She saw defeat in his eyes, defeat she’d wanted.

She felt terrible. Peter didn’t deserve this. She’d been wrong.

“He won’t get hurt, Peter. Not if I teach you.”




CAROL VOSS


Always an avid reader with a vivid imagination, Carol grew up in Smalltown, Wisconsin, with church ice-cream socials, Fourth of July parades, summer carnivals and people knowing and caring about everybody else. What better backdrop for heroes and heroines to fall in love?

In the years between business college and a liberal arts degree, Carol worked in a variety of businesses, married, raised two sons and a daughter and did volunteer work for church, school, Scouts, 4-H and hospice. An award-winning author of family stories, Carol couldn’t be happier that Instant Daddy found a home with Love Inspired Books.

Carol lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with her creative husband, her sweet, vibrating border collie and her supervisory cat. Besides writing, she loves reading, walking her dog, biking, flower gardening, traveling and, most of all, God, home and family. She loves to hear from readers at carol@carolvoss.com.




Instant Daddy

Carol Voss







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


When I am afraid, I will trust in you.

—Psalms 56:3


To Ann and Gil




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion




Chapter One


When I am afraid, I will trust in you

—Psalms 56:3

Why Peter had assumed Jessie Chandler would enjoy the limelight as much as her twin sister had, he didn’t know.

She stood as still as the lectern beside her, with her focus frozen on Peter’s lower jaw, the toddler she’d been holding when Peter had called her to the stage asleep in her arms.

Stage fright. Great.

He glanced at the red-robed graduates sitting in front of the makeshift stage. Beyond, a sea of relatives and friends lined the football-field bleachers. Watching. Waiting.

Jessie’s parents perched in the first row, seemingly holding their breaths right along with him. He was sure sitting through the memorial to Clarissa was tough enough for the Chandler family. She was killed in the New York lab fire only a year ago. The grief over losing Jessie’s twin still had to be raw. And now by calling Jessie up on stage to present the scholarship in Clarissa’s name, Peter had made everything worse.

Just another reminder that he understood equations and hypotheses a whole lot better than he understood people. He sure never understood Clarissa.

He brought his attention back to Jessie.

Her gaze was still locked on his lower jaw, her eyes even bluer up close. And behind her stage fright, he sensed a compelling sadness that made him want to take her in his arms and comfort her. The breeze whipped her shiny golden hair around her face. She adjusted the sleeping toddler in her arms.

Why had she carried the boy to the stage with her? What if the kid woke up and started screaming or something? Wasn’t Peter just thinking things couldn’t get more awkward for the family? A screaming child would probably do it.

He needed to get this over with. Quickly. He placed his hand over the microphone to prevent pickup. “If you want, I can read the name for you.”

She set her chin and drew in a shaky breath, still not meeting his eyes. “I can do it.”

He set the envelopes on the lectern. “Okay, the top envelope contains the recipient’s name. Can you announce it and give the second envelope to the graduate?”

“I’d like to say a few words first.”

He blinked. Apparently, she didn’t own that determined chin for nothing. He lowered the microphone for her and moved out of her way. “Go for it.”

She stepped forward, the crowd hushing to listen. “My sister would be so proud that every year a scholarship in her name will help students who love chemistry as much as she did.”

Peter let out a fascinated breath. She was pulling herself together like a champ—without her twin’s flare for drama, but with a vulnerability that tugged at him.

“Our family thanks Trenton Research Laboratories for their generous scholarship and Dr. Peter Sheridan for driving all the way from Madison to present it.” Her soft voice ringing clear and unpretentious, she took the sheet of paper from the envelope, her face crumpling as she struggled with her emotions.

Tensing, Peter took a step toward her to help her out.

But a teary smile broke free. “I’m thrilled to announce the first recipient of the Clarissa Chandler Scholarship is Stacy Meyers.”

The crowd erupted in a cheer. Several beach balls took to the humid air to be carried away by the breeze. Apparently, high school graduation in Noah’s Crossing, Wisconsin was a different animal from the quiet ceremony that liberated him from boarding school twelve years ago.

The sturdy boy in Jessie’s arms burrowed his face deeper into her neck.

Luckily, the kid seemed to be a resolute napper. Peter began to relax a little, the tension in his shoulders easing.

A tall, thin girl ran across the stage to the lectern, her face wreathed in smiles. She accepted the envelope from Jessie and hugged her without squashing the little guy in Jessie’s arms.

“I’m so proud of you, Stacy.” Jessie guided the excited teenager to the microphone, then stepped back alongside Peter.

Peter caught a breath of her scent. Fresh citrus. Very nice. He noted the same fair skin, patrician nose and high cheekbones as her twin, but Jessie let her hair hang free. Everything about her seemed gentler, warmer, less driven than her sister with the killer ambition and single-minded purpose. And Clarissa lovingly moving her hand over the child the way Jessie did? He couldn’t imagine it.

Stacy Meyers held the envelope aloft to give everybody a good view. “I promise to work hard and make Jess and her family and everybody in Noah’s Crossing proud of me.” She gave Jessie another hug, shook Peter’s hand as she thanked him, then ran off the stage and down the steps.

Peter finally breathed a relieved sigh. All was well that ended well, right? He’d done what he came to do and could soon get back to his research.

The little guy Jessie held shifted and turned his head, the breeze tousling his reddish-brown curls.

Jessie stroked his back. He was a cute kid.

Peter studied the baby’s high forehead, his wide-set eyes, his prominent nose…and the small, diamond-shaped birthmark on the baby’s lower left jaw.

A birthmark exactly like his own.



Hearing Dr. Sheridan murmur, Jessie looked into his frowning eyes. He stared at Jake as if he couldn’t believe what he saw. A chill shaking her, her own focus snagged on the man’s birthmark she’d been trying to ignore ever since walking on stage. The birthmark that was just like Jake’s.

She swept her blowing hair away from her face with her free hand. Maybe she could believe the identical birthmarks were a coincidence if Jake wasn’t the spitting image of the man—high forehead, rich auburn hair, deep brown eyes, right down to the cleft in his chin—or maybe if Clarissa hadn’t worked at the Madison lab with Dr. Sheridan before she’d moved to the New York branch.

Dr. Sheridan turned his questioning gaze on her. “When this is over, we need to talk.” His deep voice was a command.

Why would she want to talk to him? If he was Jake’s father, what could she possibly have to say to the man her sister said was unavailable and completely uninterested in being a dad? With a shake of her head, she clutched Jake’s warm, chubby body a little closer, turned and walked carefully down the stage steps, passed her father and sat down next to her mother. She stole a glance at Dr. Sheridan.

He’d taken his seat among the dignitaries on stage, his focus locked on Jake. The only word to describe the look on his face was shock.

Shock? What did he have to be shocked about? Shock was her thing.

Dad leaned to pat her arm. “You did us proud, Jess,” he whispered.

Mom clasped Jessie’s hand. “Are you all right?”

Jessie nodded vigorously to discourage conversation.

But Mom didn’t let that stop her. She drew closer to whisper in Jessie’s ear. “Jake looks just like him. What if…?”

“He wants to talk,” Jessie whispered back.

Mom frowned.

Jessie glanced over her shoulder. Had friends and relatives filling the row behind her noticed how much Jake looked like Dr. Sheridan? It seemed impossible to miss.

Sighing, Mom settled back to listen to the program. As if she would hear a word. Knowing Mom, she was busy putting the entire situation in God’s hands.

Too bad Jessie couldn’t. Not with her mind whirling with questions. If Dr. Sheridan was Jake’s daddy, why hadn’t he sent somebody else to present the scholarship? Was he curious to see his son? Had his “uninterested in being a dad” attitude changed?

A shiver snaking down her back, Jessie raised her gaze to the stage, past the valedictorian at the lectern to the magnetic, auburn-haired man sitting to the left. She shifted on the uncomfortable chair in an attempt to ease the pain in her hip. Why hadn’t she insisted her sister tell her everything about Jake’s father?

That was easy. She’d been so desperate to accept the wondrous gift her twin had offered, questions had been the last thing on her mind. Down deep, she hadn’t wanted anything to get in the way of her raising Clarissa’s beautiful baby boy.

She stroked Jake’s back, her heart flooding with love and gratitude to the sister who’d given Jessie’s life meaning when she’d thought it would never have meaning again. I love you, Rissa. If Dr. Sheridan is Jake’s daddy, you picked a man with great genes. But what does he think we need to talk about?

Applause startled her as the valedictorian took his seat. Dr. Sheridan didn’t seem to notice, absorbed in Jake as he was. People on stage took their places to hand out diplomas.

All Jessie could think about was the intensity on Dr. Sheridan’s face when he’d said they needed to talk. Now, that potential conversation loomed so ominously, she had trouble breathing. What possible good could come from it?

Before she said one word to him, she needed to talk to Will Kennedy. He was a lawyer. He could tell her if the adoption papers were in order and whether she might have anything to worry about if Dr. Sheridan really was Jake’s daddy. She glanced at her watch. Will would be at the diner right about now for his daily piece of pie. If she hurried, she could catch him.

Red robes flapping in the wind, students began filing across the stage amid cheering and clapping and bouncing beach balls. Dr. Sheridan headed for the side stage steps.

Jessie grabbed her purse and turned to her parents. “I’m going to walk back to the diner.”

Dad pointed at the cloudy sky. “You’d better ride with us.”

“It’s too far for you to carry Jake,” Mom insisted, concern in her voice.

“I’ll be fine,” Jessie said impatiently. Would her parents ever stop treating her like a victim who needed to be coddled?

Adjusting her son in her arms, she stood and strode out of the stadium as if her life depended on how fast her gimpy leg would carry her.

Reaching the sidewalk, she heard Dr. Sheridan holler her name.




Chapter Two


Heart pounding, Peter caught up with Jessie just as she swung around to face him, her hand flying to the little boy’s head as if to protect him. Peter’s blood pressure shot up a few more points. She, obviously, thought he was a threat.

He was acting a little crazy. The idea that this child could be his son was crazy. Clarissa would have told him she was pregnant after their night together, wouldn’t she?

But if Jessie had nothing to hide, why did she run away? Did she think he wouldn’t pursue her? That he wouldn’t have to know? “Jessie, is this Clarissa’s child?”

She took a step back.

Peter studied the baby’s hair so much like Peter’s mother’s. The nose and chin cleft like his father’s. “He looks like me. He even has the Sheridan birthmark.”

Jessie stared at him as if he’d sprouted an extra eye in the middle of his forehead. “He’s my son.”

Peter stared her down. Shiny, luminous eyes…wide…with fear? Her breaths were fast and shallow. Her soft lips clenched tight as if guarding a secret.

He wanted to reassure her, tell her everything would be okay. Dragging a breath, he struggled to regain his focus.

The timing. Ever since he’d spotted the child’s birthmark, his mind had been spinning to figure out the timing. If he was right, Clarissa would have been two months pregnant when she’d transferred to the New York lab. “He’s about eighteen months old, isn’t he?”

Jessie’s eyes flinched.

Enough of a reaction to confirm he was right on the money.

Thunder rumbled low. He could smell the ozone in the air.

“I’m in a huge hurry.” Jessie glanced away as if she couldn’t wait to make a break for it. “I have to take care of something at my diner.”

He shook his head. “Don’t you think I have a right to know for sure that I have a son?”

She shuttered her gaze. “I…I don’t have time to talk right now.”

Attempting to tone down his frustration, he studied the lines puckering the creamy skin between her eyes. “I need to know if he’s Clarissa’s son. How much time can a simple yes or no take?”

Finally, she looked at him as if she’d made up her mind. “My diner’s on Main Street. If you need to talk to me, stop in in a half hour or so.” She turned, intent on leaving.

He couldn’t let her go…not yet. Somehow, he had to make her trust him enough to give him an answer. “Jessie…if he is Clarissa’s…”

Pausing, Jessie gave him a nervous glance.

Good. He had her attention. But if the baby was Clarissa’s…what? He clenched his jaw. “I would have taken responsibility for him…if she’d told me she was pregnant.”

Swinging around to face him, Jessie shot him a questioning scowl.

“She didn’t tell me,” he repeated.

The boy murmured.

Peter watched the child’s tiny nose crinkle as if chasing a laugh in his dreams. Unexplainable warmth welled inside until he thought he’d choke on it. He reached to touch a chubby finger.

Jessie jerked out of his reach as if his touch would contaminate the kid.

Peter met her eyes. Sad eyes brimming with indescribable pain and fear. He felt like a heel for making her feel so threatened. But her actions gave him his answer. “The boy is Clarissa’s. And mine.”

She shifted her stance, biting her lip rather than confirming or rejecting his words.

Her silence was all the confirmation he needed.

“Mama?” The little guy raised his head and stretched, his back arching, his little butt jutting out.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Jessie said softly. “You had a nice nap, didn’t you?” Wary eyes on Peter, she kissed the baby’s forehead.

The child gave her a smile that would make the sun seem dim in comparison. Then the boy turned his deep brown, Sheridan eyes on Peter.

A grin traveled through him like a beacon of light, and he wondered if the buttons on his shirt would pop with the pride swelling his chest. Odd, considering how little he’d had to do with the child’s existence. “What’s his name?”

“His name?” Jessie swallowed. “His name is Jacob Maxwell Chandler.”

Peter couldn’t miss the challenge in her tone. “An honorable name,” he admitted. Too bad he’d had no part in choosing it. “Hi, Jacob.”

The boy studied him almost as if sizing up their similarities.

Maybe Peter should introduce himself. Should he tell him he was his father? Maybe not. It was too soon for that. For the boy…for the woman holding him…and for himself. “My name is Peter.”

“Pedo?”

“Close enough.”

Another low rumble of thunder. Closer now.

“You need to understand how things are, Dr. Sheridan.” Jessie’s soft voice crackled with tension.

Peter raised his gaze from the child to meet her engaging eyes.

“I am Jake’s mother.” She straightened her shoulders. “Clarissa gave him to me before he was born. I was the first one to hold him, to give him a bath, to feed him. I’m the only mother he’s known, and I couldn’t love him more if I’d given him life.”

Peter’s jaw clenched. “She had no right to give him away.”

Jessie’s gaze darted to the ground as if she didn’t want to see the truth, even with Peter standing right in front of her. Turning to face him, she lifted her chin. “He’s my son. I adopted him. And I’ll do whatever I have to do because there’s no way I’ll let you take him away from me. None.” Chin high, she turned and limped away.

Throat tight, he watched her go, a mixture of feelings completely confusing him. She was so gentle and vulnerable…with a core of sheer determination. Hurting her was the last thing he wanted.

But it looked like he had a son he didn’t know existed until now. Even if his life was his research. What in the world was he going to do with a kid?

He turned and strode for the parking lot, dodging a petite redhead who was jogging down the sidewalk in a dress and high heels. He’d better call his attorney and find out just what his rights and responsibilities were. Because before he met Jessie at the diner, he needed to gain some control of this situation.



Walking as fast as she could, Jessie glared straight ahead. What is going on, God? You can’t possibly expect me to give up Jake. Haven’t I already lost enough?

“Hey Jess, wait up.”

“Maggie,” Jake squealed.

Trying to rein in her panic without much success, Jessie turned.

“Hi, Jake.” Her high-heeled best friend jogged to Jessie’s side, barely out of breath. “You look even more upset than Dr. Sheridan does. What were you talking to that hunky man about?”

“That hunky man says he’s Jake’s father.” Jessie had trouble recognizing the strained voice as her own.

“What?” Maggie turned to scowl at Dr. Sheridan’s retreating physique. “Why would he say something like that?”

“You didn’t notice how much they look alike?”

“Well, I suppose…but that doesn’t mean…”

“He has the birthmark. He said it runs in his family. And he knows exactly how old Jake is.”

Maggie looked confused. “He and Clarissa?”

“Apparently.” Jessie swallowed hard. “She didn’t tell him she was pregnant.”

“What?” Maggie’s big brown eyes rolled. “What was she thinking?”

“He says she had no right to give him to—” Her voice broke.

“Now calm down, Jess.” Maggie threw her hands in the air like she always did when she was upset. “Let’s just think a minute. First, he hasn’t taken a paternity test, so we don’t know he’s the daddy. And second, if he is, you have the adoption papers, right?”

Jessie nodded, afraid to trust her voice.

Maggie’s hands darted dramatically. “We both know Clarissa was a stickler for making sure everything was very legal and in order. So even if he does turn out to be Jake’s dad, what can he do about it?”

Jessie wanted to believe Maggie’s words, but…

“Nada,” Maggie said as if the whole matter was settled. “Wait here while I get my car.”

Jessie’s head spun. She needed time to calm down and get her defenses back in place. “Walking is my physical therapy, remember?”

“But it’s going to rain.” Maggie pointed at the sky. “Besides, Jake is too heavy.”

“Maggie….” Jessie had warned her friend to quit treating her like she needed help or she’d have to look for a new best friend. Maggie had agreed to watch it, but she still needed reminding.

“Fine.” Maggie narrowed her eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m perfect,” Jessie snapped. She didn’t even want to think about how protective Maggie and her parents would be if they knew the accident had left her with injuries less obvious than her limp…injuries nothing could ever heal.



Rain was starting, Jake felt like he weighed a hundred pounds and Jessie’s hip was killing her by the time she struggled up the diner steps. She hoped Will was still inside.

Jake’s adoption had to hold up in court. Like Maggie said, Clarissa had always been thorough, and she would have made certain the father-not-knowing-about-the-baby loophole was closed. Wouldn’t she?

She pulled open the door, the bell above it jingling to announce them. The interior’s cool, dry air confirmed her new AC was doing its job. Her cousin Lisa, who was behind the counter, and several customers sitting on Jessie’s new, red vinyl stools greeted them. Jake returned their greetings by opening and closing both little fists in his rendition of a wave.

With a sigh of relief, Jessie spotted Will, the upper-classman who’d gone to college on a basketball scholarship and returned to Noah’s Crossing with a law degree not long after her accident. She’d still been in physical therapy when he’d asked her out on a pity date, probably engineered by Aunt Lou. At least Aunt Lou tried to organize everybody’s lives, not just Jessie’s.

But her refusal to date Will didn’t mean they weren’t still friends. It didn’t keep him from stopping in the diner for pie almost every afternoon, either. “Hey, Will. Can I have a word with you in the back room?”

The corners of Will’s sharp blue eyes wrinkled. “Right now?”

Jessie noticed the fork in his hand and the half-eaten pie à la mode on the plate in front of him. “Bring your pie with you. You want a cup of coffee on the house?”

“Can’t pass that up, now, can I?” His puzzled look intact, Will stood to tower over the counter.

Actually, Will wasn’t any taller than Dr. Sheridan, was he? Jessie pushed the image of the handsome, authoritative doctor from her mind and strode for the curtain that separated the customer area from the prep-and-storage room. She needed to focus.

Lisa poured Will’s cup of coffee. “You look upset.”

Jessie met her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said automatically.

“Well, you don’t look fine.” Lisa handed the steaming coffee to Will.

“Thanks,” he said.

Jessie ducked through the curtain and headed for the play corner she’d fenced off near one of the long windows. “Look, Jake. There’s Thomas the engine, right where you left him.”

“Tomut!” Jake threw himself with glee, totally oblivious to the concept of gravity.

But Jessie was ready for his lunge and stopped him from falling. She hoped he outgrew his habit before he got much heavier and harder to contain. “Slow down, okay?”

Jake touched her cheek in the sweet apology that always melted her heart. Then he turned, wriggling for release.

She bent over the mesh fence to set him down, pain stabbing her hip and making her catch her breath. “There you go.”

“There you goes,” he mimicked, scurrying to his low train table.

Will chuckled. “He’s talking more every day.” Setting his empty plate near the sink, he leaned against the counter. “How’d you hurt your leg?”

Jessie frowned. “My leg is fine.”

Will took a sip of coffee and wisely decided to change the subject. “You outdid yourself with that raspberry-rhubarb pie. I think it’s my new favorite.” He gave her a little grin.

She attempted a smile, then gave it up as she hurried to the fireproof safe where she kept her important papers. Grasping her ring of keys from her purse, she knelt and unlocked the box. She clasped the folder marked “Jake,” struggled to her feet and handed it to Will.

He looked at the identifying tab, then at Jessie. “Jake?”

“Clarissa hired a lawyer she knew in New York to handle the legal work for the private adoption. I’m sure everything is as it should be, but will you look at it to make sure?”

“Any reason for your sudden interest?”

She squinted. “It seems I met Jake’s father today. He made the scholarship presentation at graduation. He says Clarissa didn’t tell him about Jake.” Her words sounded clipped, almost matter-of-fact, but the breathless panic ringing in her ears told the real story.

Will set his cup beside his pie plate, bent his head and thumbed through the contents of the folder.

Hanging on to a calm she didn’t feel, Jessie tried to read Will’s face as he studied Jake’s birth certificate and papers documenting the adoption. “We dotted every i and crossed every t, didn’t we?”

Will looked up. “The documents that are here look perfect.”

She wanted to heave a sigh of relief, but his serious tone warned her there was more.

“In Wisconsin, a single mother doesn’t need to identify the father on the baby’s birth certificate, but if Clarissa didn’t tell him she was pregnant, and his DNA proves he’s the father, he has a legitimate claim.”

Jessie stared in horror. “How much of a claim?”

“He’d need a court order, but if he has the means to care for Jake, a judge could very well award him at least partial custody.”

“No,” she heard herself moan, pain wrenching deep inside.

“I’m really sorry, Jess. Why didn’t Clarissa tell him?”

“She said he was completely uninterested in being a father. I had no idea she hadn’t told him. She wouldn’t even tell me who the father was.” A thought nudged Jessie’s mind. Had her sister wanted to give Jessie her dream of being a mother so much that she’d convinced herself the father wouldn’t care? If Dr. Sheridan hadn’t come to Noah’s Crossing to present the scholarship, Jake’s father’s would still be a mystery.

“Look—even if he proves to be Jake’s father, are you sure he wants custody?” Will asked.

Jessie thought about the look on Dr. Sheridan’s face when he’d reached out to touch Jake. About the intensity in his tone when he’d insisted Clarissa had no right to give Jake away. She swiped at tears clouding her vision. “I don’t know. But he can’t have Jake. You have to help me. I’ll do whatever I need to do.”

“Are you convinced the guy is Jake’s dad?”

She’d give anything to be able to say no. Promise anything if God would just make the man go away like none of this was happening. But she knew things didn’t work that way. “Yes. I believe he is Jake’s father.”

“Then try to find a compromise to keep him from taking you to court.”

“Compromise?” She shook her head. “I’ll never compromise where Jake is concerned.”

“Wouldn’t a compromise be better than losing him?”

She drew a sharp breath.

“It could happen, Jess.”

“Doesn’t it matter that Jake’s mother didn’t want the father to know? That she wanted me to raise him?”

“It’s a factor in your favor. So are the adoption papers. But…I know Jake means the world to you. I don’t advise you to risk it.” Will handed the file folder to her. “Is the guy married?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t wear a ring anyway.”

“Does he know anything about raising kids?”

“I don’t know that, either.” She put the folder back in the safe, fumbled to lock it, then dropped her keys in her purse.

Will rubbed the back of his neck. “The thought of being a single dad would scare me to death. Watching all you do with Jake, I can see I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to take care of a kid.”

Her mind seized on Will’s words. If Dr. Sheridan was single…did he know what being a single father would involve? If he knew, would he be afraid of taking it on like Will was?

“Jess.” Lisa held the curtain divider aside. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but a tall, good-looking guy in a suit insists on seeing you. And he’s not a patient man.”




Chapter Three


Feeling more in charge of things, Peter brushed rain off his shoulders, the succulent aroma of roasting meat and mouth-watering sweets in Jessie’s Main Street Diner reminding him he hadn’t eaten lunch. He ignored the din of diners eating at the busy counter and gave a curt nod to the tall, unfriendly looking guy emerging through the colorful curtain, cup of coffee in hand. A relative? A boyfriend? Was Jessie circling the wagons already?

Well, gentle and vulnerable or not, let her try to stop him from seeing his son and he’d straighten her out in a hurry. He’d called his attorney, who had assured him that he did, indeed, have responsibilities and rights if he was the boy’s father, and his rights could even trump hers in a court of law if Peter decided to take it that far.

Strange. He was too absorbed in his research to think he’d ever get married, let alone have a kid. Finding out he had one was shocking, amazing and overwhelming. But he had to admit, the idea was beginning to grow on him.

Deep inside, he was convinced the boy was his. But that hadn’t stopped him from picking up DNA kits at the local drugstore. A few quick cheek swabs would prevent future questions…his or anybody else’s.

Clutching the drugstore bag, he ducked into the back room. His glance took in stoves, refrigerators and a huge sink. A long counter held baking paraphernalia, and shelves stacked with boxes lined one wall.

Jessie stood in the middle of the room, her blue eyes snapping with challenge, her slender body tense and skittish as a filly about to bolt.

He had the unmistakable urge to gentle her. A pretty outrageous thought from a guy who’d never had time for a serious relationship.

“Pedo.”

Peter grinned, amazed the little fella remembered his name. His gaze swept to the boy standing at a low table in a fenced-off corner filled with toys. The toddler was dwarfed by a mural on the wall above him of a blue train with an impish smile. “How’s it going, Jacob?”

The little guy pointed to himself. “Jake.”

“Jake? Then Jake it is.”

“Tomut.” The boy held up a small toy for Peter to admire.

Peter took a step closer.

Jessie shot between them, eyes flashing. “What do you want?” She stared at the bag in his hand.

He raked his hand through his thick, short hair and decided to lay it on the line. “I need a cheek swab from each of you for DNA testing.”

“DNA testing?”

“You and Clarissa were identical twins, so you have the same DNA. A sample from you will strengthen the DNA test probabilities.”

She shook her head. “I need to talk to my lawyer before I agree to that.”

He frowned. “I think we both know a DNA test is just a formality. But it will clear up lingering doubts. I’d like to take samples back to Madison with me. Will you call your lawyer? I need to get on the road soon.”

She chewed her pretty bottom lip.

“I phoned my attorney,” he said. “He told me I have a legal right to my son.”

She shot him a scowl. “Do you know anything about kids?”

Absolutely nothing. But… “I’m a quick study.”

“I’ll take that to mean you don’t know about kids or the practicalities of having a toddler in your life.”

He rubbed his forehead, which had begun to throb. “Jessie…I’m still getting used to the fact that my son exists. Practicalities might take me a little while.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is sarcasm the best you can do, Dr. Sheridan?”

“Sorry. I’ve been caught a little off guard here.”

“And I haven’t?” She blew out an impatient breath.

“Pedo.” Jake held up the toy again.

Jessie turned to the little guy. “Mommy’s talking to Peter right now, sweetheart.”

“No.” Jake shook his head. “Pedo. Tomut.”

Giving Peter a warning look, she stepped aside.

Peter strode over and squatted to peer at the blue engine Jake held in his chubby fist. “Nice train.” He pointed at the mural. “Just like the picture.”

“Tomut.”

Peter looked up to Jessie. “I think we need an interpreter.”

She swallowed as if forcing down a bitter pill. “He’s saying Thomas—the name of his favorite engine.”

“Thank you.” He tried to smile. No doubt coming face to face with Jake’s dad had to be a shock for her. Maybe as much of a shock as Peter finding out he had a son.

Jake reached out and fingered the colorful tie hanging loosely around Peter’s neck. “Putty?”

“Putty,” Peter agreed, whatever it meant.

“He thinks your tie is pretty,” Jessie offered.

“Oh…pretty.” Peter glanced over his shoulder at her. “Thank you.”

“Nana? Weesa?”

Peter squinted, unable to decipher who or what Nana and Weesa were.

“Nana is his gramma and Lisa is the woman behind the counter out front,” Jessie explained. “He’s asking where they are.”

Jake looked from Jessie back to Peter and broke into a big grin.

Peter laughed, the sound unfamiliar to his ears. “You know we’re talking about you, don’t you?”

Giggling, Jake whirled, toddled over to the low table and began pushing his engine around the track, chattering away in a dialect that had no resemblance to language as Peter knew it.

It appeared the boy’s curiosity about Peter had been satisfied. Peter stood and turned to Jessie. “He’s an alert, intelligent little boy. Obviously, you’re doing an amazing job with him.”

“Thank you.” She frowned as if unsure she could trust his sincerity. “I don’t want him to hear us.” She walked across the room.

Peter followed her.

She stopped and turned to him. “Clarissa said Jake’s father was unavailable and had no interest in being a father.”

A little too close to the truth?

“Are you married?” she asked.

He almost laughed. When would he have time to get married? “Clarissa and I spent one night together. I’m too dedicated to my research to have time for relationships. Clarissa knew that. Maybe that’s what she meant.”

“Too dedicated to be a father? That’s the way she felt about being a mother.” Jessie’s sad eyes told him she’d never understand her sister’s decision.

“So she left the baby with you and your parents to raise and went back to New York as if he didn’t exist?”

Jessie shook her head. “She never pretended he didn’t exist. You’re not being fair.”

“I’m not being fair? Clarissa wasn’t fair to any of us.”

“Not fair?” Jessie’s blue eyes narrowed. “She gave me the most precious gift she could have given me.”

Peter opened his mouth to remind her Clarissa had no right to give the baby away. But Jessie’s vulnerable admission struck an empathetic chord inside him, and he swallowed his words.

Jessie let out a breath. “Do you have family?”

“Family? Why?”

“What’s going on here?” The woman in the graduation audience he’d identified as Mrs. Chandler hustled into the room.

“Nana!” Jake squealed, pointing with delight.

She strode over to the boy, bent and gave him a hug, then turned to Jessie. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Jessie answered curtly.

Peter blinked. Jessie wasn’t even fooling him that she was all right. Did she think she could fool her mother?

Apparently not. Like a mother bear protecting her young, Mrs. Chandler focused distrusting blue eyes on Peter. “Why are you here?”

Even with disapproval written on the older woman’s face, there was no question where her daughters had gotten their Nordic beauty. “I’m sorry to upset you, Mrs. Chandler. I came to Noah’s Crossing to honor Clarissa and to express my deep sympathy to you and your family.”

“Thank you.” Mrs. Chandler’s hand fluttered to her throat, but her direct gaze didn’t falter. “Are you his father?”

“Yes, I believe I am.”

Shaking her head as if she had trouble believing him, Mrs. Chandler turned and walked to the stove. She jerked open the oven door and set a big pan on the counter with a thud. “Where were you when Clarissa needed you?”

Might just as well be blunt. “She didn’t tell me she was pregnant.”

“What?” Mrs. Chandler’s head shot up.

“I didn’t know.”

She glared at him as if she could see straight through him. “Dear Father in heaven…” Her lips continuing to move, she bent her head over her work, lifted a huge hunk of meat from the pan to a cutting board, slid a knife from a large holder on the counter and began slicing.

Peter had never seen anybody wield a knife so fast. In light of her obvious distrust, he was relieved she was carving the meat and not him.

The thunk of the knife pausing, Mrs. Chandler nailed him with her gaze. “Why would she not tell you she was pregnant?”

He wouldn’t allow his gaze to shift away. “Well…she knew I’m dedicated to my work.”

Mrs. Chandler heaved a heavy sigh. “Sounds familiar.” Her tone one of resignation, she began slicing meat at the speed of sound again, as if the practical task helped her make sense of things. “You two must have made quite a couple.”

“We weren’t a couple,” he clarified.

Both women’s questioning gazes flew to his face.

“What I mean is…we…were together only once. I…don’t have time for anything but my work.” Face hot, he shut his eyes. And his mouth. There was no way out of the hole he’d dug himself into. He sounded like he’d used and abandoned the daughter and sister these women loved. Only he and Clarissa knew what happened, and no way was he going to try to explain the situation to her mother and sister.

Mrs. Chandler tore a piece of tinfoil off a roll and began wrapping meat in it. “Just what do you want, Dr. Sheridan? What are you doing here?”

“He wants DNA samples from Jake and me,” Jessie explained.

Mrs. Chandler narrowed her eyes. “If you’re so sure you’re his father, why do you need a DNA test? For legal reasons?”

“DNA confirmation will clear up any questions.”

“Don’t let him have samples, Jess. Not without talking to a lawyer first.”

“I won’t. Did you drop Dad off at home?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Chandler exchanged a look with Jessie.

Unfortunately, Peter couldn’t read it.

“I parked the van right out front,” Mrs. Chandler said.

Jessie walked over and lifted Jake out of his play area as if she had a plan. “Let’s take your musical car with us, okay?”

“Yay.” Jake clapped his hands.

“Are you planning to talk to a lawyer?” Peter asked.

“Yes.”

“Great. I’ll follow you. It will save time so I can get on the road sooner.”

“Leave Jake with me.” Mrs. Chandler gave Peter a worried look, clearly wanting to keep him as far away from his son as she could.

“Mom, you and Lisa will have your hands full with the after-graduation crowd. Uncle Harold and Aunt Lou aren’t coming in until later to help with the supper rush.”

The diner sounded like a family affair. Jessie must have a whole army of relatives. After this run-in with her mother, he sure wasn’t eager to meet her extended family.

Jessie strode past Peter. “You can ride with us.”

He’d feel more in control if he drove. “We can take my car.”

“No. Jake’s car seat is in the van,” Jessie said.

Car seat? He’d heard women in the lab discussing which kind was safest. He’d have to do some research before he bought one for his own car. Whoa, aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself, Sheridan?

Mrs. Chandler handed a small package of foil-wrapped meat to Jessie. “Take this home with you.”

Home? Had Peter missed something? He needed to get things straight. “After we stop at the lawyer’s, you will bring me back to pick up my car before you go home, right?”

“We’re not stopping at the lawyer’s.” She gave him a sober look. “I’m taking you home to meet my dad.”

Was she kidding? Why would he want to meet her dad? “Some other time, maybe. It’s important I get the cheek swabs ASAP and start the drive back. I have work waiting for me at the lab.”

Jessie narrowed her eyes. “While you talk to my dad, I will call my lawyer.”

Peter saw flint in her beautiful, crystal-blue gaze. Clearly, she was giving him an ultimatum with no room for compromise. He reached to massage his stiff neck.

“While you’re home, Jess, put your feet up for a while,” her mother directed.

“I won’t have time, Mother,” Jessie answered tensely. “I’ll be back by five. Please call if you need me before then.” Frowning, she disappeared through the curtain dividing the room from the customer area.

Peter stared after her. Why couldn’t she call her lawyer from the diner? And why did she insist he talk to her father?

“You’d better catch her if you want a chance at that DNA sample, Dr. Sheridan,” her mother prodded.

Jessie climbed into the van out of the rain, started the motor and pulled away from the curb, back stiff, white-knuckle grip on the wheel. The windshield wipers clacking back and forth irritated her frayed nerves. But they didn’t hold a candle to the passenger beside her. At least his subtly spicy aftershave wasn’t as overpowering in the intimate space as the man himself was.

The idea of taking him home for a talk with Dad had come to her straight out of the blue. If anybody could make Dr. Sheridan think twice before he leapt into un-charted waters, Dad could. Hadn’t he saved her from making bad decisions more than once?

She’d much rather let Dr. Sheridan follow her in the nifty little sports car he’d pointed out to Jake when they got in the van. But insisting he ride with them was the only way to find out all she could about him and his support system. Because if she, indeed, did have to find a way to compromise as Will advised, she wanted to know just how much.

Looking every bit as uncomfortable as Jessie felt, Dr. Sheridan shifted to peer at Jake in his car seat in the back.

“Car,” Jake squealed.

Dr. Sheridan laughed awkwardly. “I hear it, loud and clear.”

Jessie glanced in the rearview mirror at Jake holding his musical car out to be admired, then turned her attention to her passenger. “I suppose your parents will be glad to hear they have a grandson.” Her voice sounded shrill when she’d only meant to raise it to allow him to hear her over the tinny tune of Jake’s car.

“I think they’ll be happy the Sheridan genes will survive another generation,” he said dryly.

She gave him a serious frown. “You don’t sound as if you know them very well.”

The drugstore bag crackled in his long fingers, his silence answering her.

She pulled to a stop at the intersection and returned waves from people walking home from graduation, umbrellas raised against the rain. She turned to Dr. Sheridan. “Why don’t you know your parents?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “They’re archeologists. They spend most of their time on digs in remote parts of the world.”

“Interesting.” And a relief. It didn’t sound like he’d get much help or support from them, did it? She accelerated.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him until he ran out of room.

She jerked her gaze back to the road in front of them.

“Any chance Jake’s car has a volume control?” he asked. “Those nonsensical rhymes just began a painful third rotation.”

Were the good doctor’s nerves a tad on the frazzled side, too? And unused to children’s toys? “I don’t want him to hear the tension in our voices.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“You would have if you knew anything about kids.”

His lips quirked. “No doubt.”

She drew in a momentary breath of victory. But it was too soon to gloat. She still didn’t know much about his situation or who he depended on for support. “Did you travel with your parents when you were young?”

“No.”

Her little fishing expedition would take forever if all she got from him were one-syllable answers. Drawing herself a little taller, she took a left and fired off another question. “Who did you stay with?”

“I lived in boarding schools,” he said matter-of-factly.

She looked at him sharply. Boarding schools? The poor man. “You grew up in boarding schools?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice.

He stared out the windshield. “The best boarding schools in the country.”

As if that made it easier for him to be away from his family? “Did your parents sometimes take you with them?”

He glanced her way. “Why the third degree?”

She recognized avoidance when she heard it. “Did they?”

He dragged in a breath and let it out. “There’s not much for a kid to do in the middle of the Sahara desert for months on end. And they wanted me educated by the best schools available to better prepare me to contribute to mankind.”

His parents sacrificed him to science? How could they do that? “You must have been lonely growing up with strangers.”

He shrugged as if loneliness was no big deal. “My studies were challenging. There was plenty to do. Swimming, tennis, golf, horses, you name it. I didn’t have time to be lonely.”

He expected her to believe that? “Did you go home often?”

He frowned at her.

“Did you?” She sat straighter. “Go home often?”

“When holidays didn’t conflict with digs.” His tone was flat, uninterested.

Jessie swallowed, unable to comprehend the lonely, disconnected childhood he must have lived. “What about when you were very little? Before boarding school?”

“I had nannies.”

Jessie shook her head. How did a child function and grow without his parents and relatives to guide him? How did he learn to love himself or others if he didn’t have people who loved him show him how? How would he love Jake? “I have a hard time imagining growing up like that. I’m related to half of Noah’s Crossing.”

“Lucky you.”

She glanced at his serious face and somehow wanted to make him feel better. “I’m sure you’ve made your parents proud.”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Too quietly. He’d had such a lonely, awful childhood, Jessie’s heart ached for him. But was his childhood the reason he wanted his son? Even if he had no time for him?

He didn’t have a wife. No girlfriend either if he’d been honest about not having time for relationships. But he must have somebody besides his absent parents. Somebody he was counting on for help. “You said you don’t have time for relationships, but you must have somebody.”

He raised a well-shaped eyebrow. “Why are you so interested?”

“Because of Jake, of course.”

“You need somebody to vouch that I won’t be a bad influence on the boy? Is that it?”

“Do you have anybody who would do that?”

Jaw clenching, he settled back in his seat and focused out the windshield again. “Scott and Karen Kenyon.”

“Friends?”

“He was my college professor and has been my friend and mentor ever since. Is that a long enough relationship for you?” He sounded a tad irritated.

Maybe she was finally getting somewhere. “Have you called to tell them about Jake?”

“Not yet.”

“Do they have children?”

“They’d make great parents, but kids aren’t in the cards for them,” he said sadly.

She couldn’t help empathizing with them. But a jolt of fear chased away her empathy. Did he want his friends to raise Jake? “They can’t have children?”

“They have enough on their plates without kids to worry about.”

This wasn’t adding up. If his friends didn’t have time for children, he couldn’t count on them to help him with Jake, could he? “I don’t understand.”

He rubbed his chin. “Scott was diagnosed with ALS—you probably know it as Lou Gehrig’s disease—almost two years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Neurological diseases are my specialty.” He crumpled the bag in his hands. “I never dreamed the battle would become personal.” No mistaking the passion in his voice now.

How could she not admire his dedication to his friend? She couldn’t imagine the pressure he must feel to save him. “How is he doing?”

“The disease is taking its toll. But we’ve developed a promising experimental drug. We’re hoping it will help Scott.”

She glanced at him. “I’ll pray for you and your friend.”

His eyes rounded, then narrowed as if he didn’t know how to respond.

“You don’t believe in prayer?” she asked.

He dropped his gaze. “I believe in research.”

Jessie focused on the wet road again. “It seems to me research and prayer would go hand in hand.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you’re looking for answers to heal people. Who better to ask for help than the Great Healer?” She could feel him studying her.

“I never thought about it that way,” he said.

She wanted to tell him maybe he should. After all, the idea of life without prayer was as foreign to her as life without family.

“Does God hear your prayers, Jessie?” he asked softly.

She bit her lip. “I honestly don’t know anymore.” Because if He did, Peter Sheridan wouldn’t be here threatening to take Jake away.




Chapter Four


The rain had stopped by the time Peter peered uneasily up the gravel drive to the small Cape Cod where Jessie’s dad waited. Fumbling to unhook his seatbelt, he turned to watch Jessie make a game of unfastening Jake from his car seat, her movements gentle and caring. In spite of her distrust of Peter, there was such a warmth about her, especially when she interacted with Jake.

Could he ever be the kind of parent who showed his son he cared with every move? Given his lack of a role model, he didn’t know where to begin. He didn’t even know if he had it in him to love his son.

Jessie’s questions about his family, or lack of one, were legitimate concerns. If Scott and Karen hadn’t taken him under their protective wings in college, he’d have no one. With his lack in the relationship department, how would he be able to relate to a little boy?

Then there was his research, a demanding taskmaster that took everything he had to give. He lived it, breathed it. He’d focused on ALS research as a result of Scott’s diagnosis. And as Scott’s condition worsened, too many nights Peter slept on the cot in his office rather than making the drive downtown to his dingy, furnished apartment. Even when he had to be away from the lab, he was thinking, planning, solving problems related to his research.

Fine by him. Without his dedication, the experimental drug wouldn’t be ready for testing. The drug that could be Scott’s last chance.

Drugstore bag in hand, he climbed out of the van.

Jessie lifted Jake out of his seat and pushed the door shut. “You ready to meet my dad, Dr. Sheridan?”

“Sure.” A lie. He doubted her father would take too kindly to the man who got his daughter pregnant and hadn’t taken responsibility for her or the baby. Never mind that she hadn’t bothered to tell him. Maybe Peter could hold his own with that fact. “Please call me Peter.”

“Peter,” she repeated, as if trying it out.

He liked the way his name sounded coming from her lips. “What’s your father like?”

“He’s a straight shooter. Protective. A great dad. And he loves Jake.”

Peter heard love and pride in her voice, along with challenge. “Glad you’re not in my shoes?”

She shot him a look that might pass for sympathetic.

Oh well. If talking to her father was the price to pay for a couple cheek swabs, bring him on. With fresh rain making the earth smell new again, Peter followed Jessie up the driveway into a backyard exuberant with flowering bushes and plants. A child’s swing set filled the corner under a tree. The whine of a small motor came from a covered patio running the length of the house and outfitted as an outdoor living area. A muscular, weathered man sat at a workbench, using an electric sander on a long board. Had to be Jessie’s father. “Your dad looks busy.”

“He builds custom furniture in his free time. He has a shop in the garage.”

“Papa!” Jake squealed.

Mr. Chandler switched off the sander and rose to Peter’s height. “Hey, Jake. How you doing, little buddy?”

Jessie walked over to her dad.

Mr. Chandler bent and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Your mother called. Said you were on your way.”

The understanding passing between father and daughter hit Peter like a blow. So much said with just a look. The same understanding Jessie and her mother had shared. Communication real families enjoyed. He couldn’t imagine communicating with his son like that.

Mr. Chandler reached across his workbench to give Peter’s hand a firm shake. “Dr. Sheridan.”

“Peter.”

“Max.”

“I want you to know how sorry I am about Clarissa’s death.”

“Thank you.” The older man shifted his gaze to the ground as if checking his emotions. Then he raised his eyes, held out his arms and Jake lunged from Jessie’s arms to his. “How’s my little buddy?”

Jake gave his grandpa an enthusiastic hug.

Peter found himself smiling at the comradery between the two. It was hard not to smile at just about everything about the little guy.

“Come on, Jake.” Jessie held up the tinfoil package her mother had sent with her. “Help me put supper in the oven to stay warm, okay?”

“’Kay!” Jake yelled as if Jessie had given him a very important assignment.

Max let him slide to the ground.

Jessie grasped the boy’s hand.

With a purposeful strut, Jake headed for the house with Jessie gliding beside him.

She was probably leaving so her father wouldn’t have to pull punches. “You will make that phone call?” Peter reminded.

“I will,” she called over her shoulder.

Peter dragged his gaze back to the man on the other side of the work bench.

Her father’s eyes bore into Peter’s until the screen door slammed behind Jessie and Jake. “My wife and I are very proud of both our daughters. But for reasons I’ll never understand, Clarissa felt her research was more important than being a mother. What I want to know is why she found it necessary to keep her baby a secret from you.”

Off and running. “I don’t know the answer to that question.”

Max studied Peter, sadness filling his lined face.

It must be hard to lose a child.

“I could use something cool.” Max strode to the back wall. He pulled a couple cans from an under-counter refrigerator, strode back to Peter and handed him a can of Dr Pepper.

“Thanks.” Peter popped the lid, the hiss of carbonated air filling the silence between them.

Max raised his soda. “To reasonable men.”

Peter could hope. But the steel glint in Max’s eyes warned him to stay on his toes. He raised his can in a toast, then took a sizable swallow, the liquid cold and refreshing.

Max drank thirstily before he lowered his can and focused a narrow gaze on Peter. “Clarissa and I had our differences of opinion, but she knew what she was doing when she gave Jake to Jessie. Jessie’s the best thing that could have happened to that boy.”

Peter had no argument with that. Just thinking about the love on her face when she looked at Jake made him smile. “She’s wonderful with him.”

“Think about it, Peter. If Clarissa had been a different person, she might have given him to some agency for adoption. You would never have known you had a son. And little Jake would have been lost to all of us.”

Peter could only stare at the man as he absorbed his words. Rather than blaming Clarissa for leaving him out of the loop, maybe he should be thankful for the things she’d done right. He could only imagine how difficult the situation had been for her.

But Max wasn’t finished. “The way I see it…the measure of a man is in how he takes care of his family. If you’re the man I hope you are, you’ll do what’s best for Jake. If you don’t, you don’t deserve to be his father.”

Somehow Max had managed to challenge Peter’s integrity, prod him to live up to it and shame him if he fell short. The man was good. “Of course, I want what’s best for Jake.”

Max took a drink of his soda. “What’s best for Jake is Jessie.”

As if summoned, she walked out of the house, Jake in her arms. “Jake left his musical car out here.”

She was just as pretty in jeans and a green T-shirt as she’d been in her sundress, Peter noted.

“Want a Dr Pepper, Jess?” Her father looked at her expectantly.

She shook her head.

“Did you talk to your lawyer?”

“Yes. He said I’ll have to give you DNA samples eventually anyway, and I’d just as soon do it now.”

“Great. Then let’s get started.” Peter swept the kits out of the drugstore bag he carried.

Max gave him a level gaze. “There’s more to being a father than DNA, Peter.”

“Of course there is.”

“Like feelings, love, commitment. How do you feel about being a father?” Max asked.

Peter laid the kits on the nearby table. “Jake’s great.”

“Yes, he is. But that’s not my question.”

He should have known Jessie’s dad wouldn’t accept a superficial answer. Buying time, he laid out vials, small packages of swabs and labels while he sorted through thoughts he’d been struggling with about what to do regarding his son.

Bottom line? No way could he let Jake grow up without a father, like Peter had. “Jake needs to know his father. I can’t let him grow up thinking he doesn’t matter to me.”

“Fair enough. But think long and hard about how best to accomplish that. As long as you remember what’s best for him, we’ll get along just fine.”

In other words, as long as he remembered Jessie was best for Jake, everything would go smoothly. A not-too-veiled threat if Peter ever heard one. But he admired Jessie’s father for laying it on the line.

Max looked at Peter, obviously waiting for him to be just as straightforward about what he wanted.

Peter’s thoughts began to gain clarity. He wanted more than just to know his son and his son to know him. He wanted the kind of relationship with Jake that Jessie and her dad had.

And if that was what he wanted, he needed to step up to the plate. “Jessie’s fortunate to have you, Max. You’re here when she needs you, and you’re not afraid to go to bat for her. I don’t want to be anything less for my son.”

“What?” Jessie’s eyes went wide. “You want to be a father like my dad? But you have to get back to your lab, remember?”

She was right. He’d been in a hurry to get the DNA swabs so he could get on the road. Slight change of plans. If he was going to be a real father, he needed to get to know his son a little better. “I’ve decided to stay in town the rest of the weekend.”

Unfortunately, the shock on Jessie’s face wasn’t the least bit encouraging.



In the steamy little bathroom, Jake’s shampoo mingled with the subtle spice of Peter Sheridan’s aftershave.

“Make bubbos,” Jake squealed, slapping the water in the tub with both hands.

Jessie rocked back on her haunches to duck a spray of soapy water, a jab in her hip making her wince.

On his knees beside her, Peter took the splash at full force. Laughing, he swiped his hand over his wet face, his arm bumping Jessie’s.

He turned to her, his laughing brown eyes concerned. “Sorry. You okay?”

She nodded vigorously, his presence seeming to fill the room.

His gaze softened. “I tend to throw myself into things, I’m afraid.”

She squinted. Too warm, she scooched over to allow him more space.

“Pedo. Chug.”

With an apologetic little smile, Peter turned to Jake and went back to making chugging noises and pushing a plastic tugboat in circles while Jake laughed and clapped and wildly slapped the water.

Grateful that Peter’s focus was back on Jake, Jessie gave her head a little shake. What was her problem? Did she need to remind herself of Peter’s declaration in the backyard this afternoon? He seemed to think he could pull Dad’s qualities out of thin air. Ha.

She had to make him see reality. That’s why she’d invited him to help with Jake’s bath and bedtime ritual—to give him a glimpse of real-life, behind-the-scenes parenting. If he understood being a parent was time-consuming, sometimes heart-wrenching and a lot of hard work, he’d have to understand he lacked the time and the skills to care for Jake.

At first, Peter sat back and watched her play quietly with her son to calm him down before bed. But it hadn’t taken him long to roll up his sleeves and take charge. Now, the front of his white dress shirt was soaked, and his black suit pants weren’t faring much better. But he seemed oblivious to everything except Jake and how much fun they were having.

But right before bed? Not a good idea. The more tired Jake got, the more wound up he became, and the harder it would be to get him to settle down for the night.

Of course, it would give Peter a good dose of one of the challenges of parenting. He needed to get a complete picture. And as much as she didn’t want Jake having a hard time settling down, maybe it would be worth it if Peter could see he wasn’t up to the job. Struggling to her feet, she grabbed a dry towel and glanced pointedly at her watch. “Jake’s bedtime has come and gone.”

“Hear that, Jake? Time for bed.”

Jake splashed, water flying. “Pedo chug.”

Diversion worked better than going the direct route, but Peter would find that out soon enough. She gave him the towel.

“Thanks. Come on Jake, let’s get you dried off.”

Jake stuck out his bottom lip in his mutiny pose.

Peter looked up at her, amusement crinkling his rich brown eyes. To his credit, he didn’t laugh even if Jake’s pout was the cutest thing in the entire world.

Jake slapped the water, sending it flying everywhere again. “Chug, Pedo.”

Peter turned back to Jake, a broad grin on his lips, as if that would help. He held the towel at the ready like he expected Jake to walk right into it. “See? Jessie gave me a big, fluffy towel to dry you off.”

Jake pointed to Jessie. “Mama.”

She smiled.

“Mama,” Peter conceded.

“Chug, Pedo.” Jake grasped the tugboat and jammed it at Peter.

Peter shook his head. “No more chugging. The tugboat’s tired. It needs to go to bed.”

Nice try.

But Jake was beyond listening. He flipped onto his tummy in the water, pushing the tugboat and making his motor sound.

Peter turned to Jessie. “Feel free to step in any time.”

“But you’re doing so well.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Of course not,” she fibbed.

“Any suggestions?”

“Well…” Maybe she should give him a crumb. “You could offer him his bedtime snack.”

He gave an aha nod and turned to Jake. “How about a snack, Jake?”

Jake kept pushing the boat and making the chugging noise, totally absorbed in his imaginary world.

“Hey, Jake. What do you like for your snack?” Peter tried again. When Jake ignored him again, Peter turned back to Jessie. “Now what?”

“He’s zoned. You’ll have to pick him up and take him out.”

“Will he cry?” he asked softly, probably so Jake wouldn’t hear.

“Count on it.”

“He’s used to you. Maybe you should do it.”

She gave him a lifted eyebrow. “He’ll cry for me, too. Just make it clean and fast.”

Peter put the towel down. Broad shoulders hunched, he leaned over the tub, poised to snatch the boy and lift him out of the water in his large, masculine hands. Strong and gentle, nails clean and neatly cut.

Neil’s hands had been strong and gentle, too. Sometimes, they’d been cracked and stained from hard farm work even though he used the special soaps she’d given him. Her heart twisted at the memory of her ex-fiancé. “Okay. Go ahead,” she encouraged.

Peter made his move.

With a shriek, Jake’s chubby legs flailed, his slippery body squirming and twisting to get free.

“Whoa, there,” Peter grunted, no doubt surprised by the power one little boy could unleash. He tried to set Jake on his feet on the towel, but churning legs and a squirming body made that impossible. So Peter hugged Jake close instead. “It’s okay, Jake. We’re going to get you dry and dressed so you can have that snack.”

At least his instincts were good. But it was hard to tell whether Jake heard him. He wailed loud enough to alert Jessie’s parents on the patio. She wouldn’t be surprised if Mom popped in to find out what was going on. “Calm down, sweetie,” she cooed as she tucked the towel around Jake.

“He’s never going to forgive me for doing that,” Peter said dismally.

Jessie could almost feel sorry for the man…if she wasn’t worried what he would decide to do when he fell in love with Jake. If he hadn’t already.

Finally, Jake’s crying subsided. “Wan Os,” he said on a hiccough.

Peter looked over Jake’s head at her as if asking her to interpret.

“He wants Cheerios for his snack.” She nodded to let him know Os were an option.

“Sure, Jake. Os sound good,” Peter said.

“Wan Os, wan Os.” Jake sniffed, twisting to get out of Peter’s arms.

“Slow down,” Jessie warned. “You can have Os just as soon as Peter gets you into your diaper and pajamas.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. “You sure I’m up to that?”

“Aren’t you?”

He squinted. “How hard can it be?”

Looked like he wasn’t ready to cry uncle anytime soon. She laid a diaper and pj’s on the changing table in the corner of the small room and stepped out of the way.

Peter climbed to his feet, abandoned the towel and laid Jake on the changing table without a hitch. He picked up the diaper, turning it in his hands as he studied it.

Not one to stay still for long, Jake began rolling onto his side.

Jessie lunged toward him.

“Whoa, there, fella.” Peter grabbed Jake to stop him from falling.

Jessie gave a sigh of relief.

“You need to lie down, so I can get this diaper on you,” Peter explained as if he expected the eighteen month old’s complete cooperation.

“Wan Os.” Jake swayed his head and upper torso back and forth to make his point.

“After we get you dressed,” Peter said.

Jake wailed, struggling to free himself.

Jessie grabbed the towels on the floor and began wiping up the water near the tub. If Peter wanted her help, he could ask for it. But she kept a keen eye on his progress.

He held a squirming Jake with one hand while he spread the diaper on the changing table with the other. Then he plunked Jake on the diaper and somehow got it between the little boy’s legs, but he couldn’t seem to figure out how to fasten it. At least, not before Jake kicked free of the diaper and sent it flying.

Things couldn’t be working out better. Suppressing a grin, Jessie flipped the drain and scooped toys into the net bag attached to the wall. “Are you going to get that diaper on him or not?”

Peter raked his free hand through his hair. “A demonstration might expedite things.”

“Are you asking for my help?”

“Please?” He gave her a pathetic look. Well, as pathetic as a strong, handsome, intelligent man can look, anyway.

With an exaggerated sigh, she ambled over to contain Jake while Peter retrieved the diaper from the floor and laid it on the changing table.

Jessie gave Jake a toy car to keep him occupied, lifted him onto the diaper and secured it.

“You sure make it look easy,” Peter commented.

“Experience. Can you handle putting him in his pajamas?”

Peter picked up the train-printed pj’s and looked them over. “Snaps go back or front?”

“Front.” She took the garment and matched top to bottom to show him.

“Got it.”

She wiped down the tub-surround, glancing back to see how things were going.

Shoulders flexing, Peter worked to get the small, struggling boy into his pajamas, then concentrated on matching snaps. “We’re almost finished, Jake,” he promised several times.

Jessie perched on the side of the tub to wait. He must be realizing he wasn’t cut out for parenting by now. One would think, anyway.

Finally, he lifted Jake in the air as he checked his work. “Mission accomplished,” he announced. He did look like he’d been on a mission—a very wet one. His dark hair was soaked and as mussed as short hair can get, and his soaked shirt clung to his chest.

Jessie noticed one lone, unmatched snap on Jake’s pajamas and considered not mentioning it. But only for a second. “You missed a snap.”

“Are you sure?” He gave her an exasperated look as he folded Jake in his arms.

“Of course I’m sure.” She reached for Jake before his dry pajamas were as sodden as Peter was.

Jake hurled himself into her arms. “Wan Os, Mama.”

“Okay.” She concentrated on righting the snap and tried not to feel sorry for Peter in his wet shirt, but she did anyway. “If you want me to throw your shirt in the washer, you can wear one of Dad’s.”

He looked down at his soggy shirt. “That would be great. But I doubt your father wants me wearing his clothes.”

“He won’t mind.” She opened the bathroom closet her mom had converted from linen storage to hold her dad’s clothes. “Take your pick.”

Giving her a wary eye, he chose a worn denim one she hadn’t seen Dad wear for years. “This looks comfortable. It isn’t his favorite, is it?”

Jessie shook her head.

Peter hung the hanger on the shower curtain rod and unbuttoned his shirt. He glanced at Jessie.

She realized she was watching as if a good-looking man taking off his shirt in her bathroom was an everyday occurrence. And not just any man…but the man who’d made a baby with her sister? “I’ll just…uh…” She motioned toward the door.

He raised an eyebrow.

Flustered, she set Jake on his feet on the floor and darted out of the room after him. Well, wasn’t that just lovely? Now Peter would probably think she was attracted to him.

Well, what woman wouldn’t be? After all, he was a very attractive man, wasn’t he?

By the time she got to the kitchen, Jake was pushing a chair to the cupboard. “I’ll get your Os for you.” She took the box from the cupboard and grabbed a small bowl from another shelf.

Peter strode into the room, powerful and in charge but looking a tad more relaxed in Dad’s old shirt. His own wet shirt in his hand, he stopped by the table and studied the wall of family pictures. “Looks like you were a busy girl in school. Plays, proms, cheerleader.”

She looked up from pouring cereal. “You know which pictures are me and which are Clarissa?”

“Sure.” He turned to her. “You’re very different from your sister, you know.”




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