turned in an ad to the paper for a nanny, knowing that it would take days before the ad would produce inquiries. His full-time cook and housekeeper arrived and tried to help, but at sixty, Gertie Jones was still single and knew almost as little about babies as David.
As soon as possible, he drove into Royal, heading to a local baby store to get supplies.
Since getting out of the military and returning home, David usually took pleasure in driving through his hometown of Royal, Texas. Main Street was a bustling place in the exclusively rich West Texas town, which was surrounded by oil fields and ranches. Today, under bright skies and sunshine, he passed the Royalty Public Library, a one-story, Georgian-style brick building in the center of town, and the Royalton Hotel on Main Street, a fancy old hotel that dated back to 1910, but he didn’t see any of his surroundings. He was a man with a mission, as dead set on getting help as he had ever been on accomplishing any assignment in his life.
David waited in his car until the baby store unlocked and opened its doors, then he and other customers rushed inside. Feeling lost, he hurried down aisles past tiny dresses and small suits until he reached a section with diapers, little shirts and rattles. While he was searching for a clerk, Autumn began to cry.
“Oh, please don’t cry,” David said. Frantically, he hunted for a clerk, turning a corner and starting up another aisle, jiggling Autumn in his arms as she refused the bottle and continued crying.
“Little baby, don’t cry!” David was desperate. He hadn’t shaved this morning and was barely dressed; he’d thrown on whatever shirt he could grab and old jeans. He suspected his hair was sticking straight up in the air, but that was of small consequence at the moment.
“Aw, Autumn, baby, don’t cry,” he pleaded. He heard someone moving and saw a clerk bending down behind a counter. He rushed for her as if he were drowning at sea and had spotted a raft.
“Can you help me?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound too alarmed.
The clerk straightened, and David stared at her in shock while she gazed back wide-eyed at him.
Two
The woman was wearing a pink sunbonnet the likes of which he had seen only in movies or in pictures of his great-great-grandmother. She had on a flowered, frilly dress covered with lace and pink velvet bows. Her dark blond hair was tied in long pigtails with pink bows and each cheek had bright rose circles. Her lashes looked too thick for her to be able to open her eyes, black feathery lashes that framed lively chocolate-brown eyes that gazed at him with a curious intensity. She had a luscious, deep red rosebud mouth.
In turn, Marissa Wilder gaped at David Sorrenson, taking in all six feet two inches of the ruggedly handsome man. Her heart thumped faster, and her temperature rose. How old had she been when he’d first had this effect on her? She was probably eleven years old. At eighteen, he had barely known she was alive. As a matter of fact, she suspected that right now he didn’t have a clue who she was. But was he a sight for female eyes! More handsome than ever with his thick, wavy raven hair and sexy sea-green eyes.
Then she became aware of the tiny baby in his arms. The little one was bawling at the top of its lungs and he simply stood there and looked helpless and desperate. Where was the man’s wife? Coming out of her spell, Marissa reached out.
“Let me hold your baby,” she said, taking the infant from his hands.
“Is there a microwave oven in this store where I can heat a bottle for her?” he asked. He fumbled in the brown paper sack he was carrying and fished out a bottle.
“Yes, there is,” Marissa answered, taking the bottle and motioning to him to follow her. David trailed after her to a tiny lounge with chairs covered in yellow vinyl and signs to employees lining the walls. He watched her warm the bottle and then take it out of the microwave to give it to the baby.
She cuddled the baby in her arms and placed the bottle close, letting the nipple touch the baby’s cheek. The little one turned her head the fraction needed, found the nipple and began to suck.
Quiet settled and Marissa gazed down at the baby. Longing filled her. How much she wanted her own baby! She yearned for a child. She forgot the man watching her as all her attention settled on the child. Yielding to her imagination, she wished the baby was her own precious darling.
“You’re a natural with her,” said a deep voice that yanked her out of her reverie, and she looked up into green eyes that now were fully focused on her. David Sorrenson looked as if he wanted to devour her, and her breath caught.
“A natural?”
“With babies,” he said, nodding his head as he looked at the baby in her arms.
“Oh, well, I’ve been around a lot of them. I have one niece and three nephews and two younger sisters,” Marissa answered. “She’s a precious baby. Where’s your wife?”
“I’m not married. And she’s not my baby. Well, she is for now.”
Marissa stared at him, realizing the man was distraught. This was rather shocking, because she had been to more than a few football games when he had been a senior and quarterback of the Royal High team and he had always remained cool and unflappable. She had been much younger, but she had heard her older sisters talk about him and she had seen him play football. She studied him. He needed a shave. His shirt wasn’t buttoned correctly. He ran his fingers through his tangled mop of black hair while he continued to stare at her as if she were a bug under a microscope.
“Are you married?” he blurted.
“No, I’m not,” she answered, beginning to wonder if he was under some kind of mental pressure that was causing him distress. “I’m divorced.”
Her answer seemed to relieve him, but she couldn’t imagine why, because she knew all too well, he didn’t want a date. He thrust out his hand.
“I’m David Sorrenson.”
“Yes, I know,” Marissa said, feeling her hand enveloped in his large, warm one. The contact was as disturbing to her jangled nerves as his steadfast gaze. “You were in school with one of my older sisters. I’m Marissa Wilder. You were in high school with Karen.”
“You don’t say. I didn’t recognize you. You’re a natural with babies, though. And you seem to like them.”
“I love babies,” she said softly, looking at the little girl in her arms. “What’s her name?”
“Autumn,” he replied.
“Autumn. That’s a lovely name. How old is she?”
“Five to ten days probably, give or take a few.”
Give or take a few? What kind of daddy was he? she wondered, some of her illusions about David Sorrenson shattering. “And you’ve been sent out to buy some diapers?” Marissa guessed.
“Something like that. Have you worked here long?”
“About two years,” she said. If she didn’t know whom she was talking to, she would summon the store security guard. David’s questions were weird, and she clearly recollected a lot of female discussion through the years about David Sorrenson. Never once had the description “weird” been included.
“Would
