hair. She had a mop of it, and it was black as coal.
Like his. Good heavens, like his. Her sudden appearance had rattled him so much, he’d actually forgotten that he had black hair.
The nervous feeling taking hold jumped up several notches on the scale.
In classic denial, he shut away the obvious. She wasn’t his.
So what was he doing, acting like a high-school kid who’d been caught trying to blow up the chem lab and was now looking for a way to avoid being expelled? He was a respected member of the business world. This wasn’t a matter to be handled by an established bachelor—this was for people who knew what they were doing. Who were accustomed to dealing with abandoned babies.
As he stopped at the red light, Evan entertained the thought of pulling over to the curb and calling directory assistance for the location of the nearest family services office. That would certainly take the matter out of his hands.
Or would it?
There would be questions to answer, questions he didn’t have the answers to. And he hated looking like a fool. He’d done enough of that when he was growing up.
And what if word about this got out somehow? The corporation he’d worked his way up in was on the cutting edge of technology, but it was comprised of people whose personal ethics were as old-fashioned as his. There was a new wave of strict morality overtaking the bastions of the corporate world, one that, up until this moment, he had fully appreciated.
It wouldn’t look good for him if this was brought to anyone’s attention. The members of the board prided themselves on their company’s down-to-earth, homespun image, as did Adam Donovan, who had taken a liking to him and a personal interest in his career.
Nothing more homespun than a baby. Unless it was one people were playing hot potato with, he thought cynically.
And despite everything, there was still that tiny, nagging uncertainty in the back of his mind that refused to be completely erased.
What if…?
Well, “what if” or not, first and foremost he had to find someone to take care of this wailing child. Then he would find out who the mother was.
The latter, he forced himself to acknowledge, was right up Devin’s alley. As a private investigator specializing in missing persons, his brother would know how to go about locating this “mystery woman” who was making these false accusations.
But he didn’t like having to ask Devin for anything. It wasn’t that Devin would refuse him, or even act as if he were being put out—it was just that Evan prided himself on being able to handle anything that came his way, no matter what.
“No matter what” had lusty lungs and was in the process of sucking out every bit of oxygen within the car and turning it into noise. Evan rolled down the window, hoping the street traffic would cut into the wailing and neutralize it.
All his adult life, Evan had gone out of his way to prove how much more responsible he was than Devin. Devin had always been the reckless one, the one who seemed to be without a serious thought. The one his parents had despaired would never amount to anything, not because he wasn’t smart enough, but because he didn’t apply himself.
Evan’s mouth curved in a self-deprecating smile. So why was he the one who was being accused of fathering an unwanted child?
Sometimes, the world made no sense.
The open window didn’t help. Rachel’s cries just rose to the challenge, increasing Evan’s feeling of helplessness. The entrance to his development had never looked so good. Not that there were any ready solutions there, but at least he would be out of the crammed confines of the car. His ears were beginning to ring.
“We’re here, we’re here,” he told Rachel, trying to calm her down.
The wailing continued a minute longer, then, as if intrigued by the sound of his voice, Rachel stopped as abruptly as she had started. He felt like rejoicing at the temporary reprieve. It was funny how so little could suddenly mean so much.
“Opera,” he murmured, “you should definitely consider a career in opera.”
Evan turned into his driveway, not even bothering to use the automatic garage-door opener.
He’d no sooner pulled up his hand brake and turned off the engine than he was laid siege to. Not by the child inside the car, but by the child outside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her approaching at ten o’clock. A bouncy four-year-old who was bound and determined, since he’d moved in next door to her and her mother three months ago, to learn everything there was to know about him. He’d already discovered that short, one-word replies did not discourage her. They just led her to ask more questions.
Please, not now, he thought
“Hi!”
Standing on her toes, Elizabeth Jean Walker hooked her fingers on his open window, all ten of them. Since she was forever eating some candy or other, Evan could just envision what her sticky prints were doing to the highly polished shine on his car.
“You have a baby!” Libby’s eyes were huge as she looked past him to the wiggling baby in the car seat. “I didn’t know you had a baby!”
“I don’t It’s not mine.” He put his hand on the latch, then looked at Libby expectantly. “Would you mind stepping back? I need to get out of the car.”
Libby danced backward on the points of her toes, her eyes still riveted to the baby. She was pirouetting this week. It went along with her current choice of career—ballerina. Last week, when she had wanted to be a cowhand, she had galloped everywhere she went. “If it’s not yours, did you steal it?” There was breathless excitement in each word.
He was glad someone was getting enjoyment out of this. “No, someone gave it to me.” Evan got out and slammed his door.
Without a trace of self-consciousness, Libby stuck with him like a shadow as he rounded the hood to the passenger side. “You mean, like a present?”
Where was this kid’s mother? Didn’t she know better than to let her little girl run around, harassing neighbors? “No, not exactly.”
He stared down at Rachel. Should he take her out of the car seat, or carry her into the house in the seat? He decided on the latter. He didn’t want drool on his expensive jacket.
Libby cocked her head, watching him think his problem through. “Whatcha gonna do with the baby?”
“I don’t know.” He bit off the answer. Evan didn’t like feeling as if he was lost, but he still hadn’t a clue what to do. There had to be someone he could call, a baby-sitting service that dealt in emergencies. Something. He had a meeting to go to, damn it. He didn’t have time to stay home and play surrogate father to someone else’s child.
Libby wiggled in front of him for a better view of the baby. Swallowing an oath he knew was inappropriate for Libby to hear, he placed both hands on her shoulders and firmly moved her out of his way.
She looked up at him, a sunny expression on her pale face. “Do you need help?”
What
