sure that Olivia had actually written the letter. In an age of computers and e-mail and text messaging, she honestly didn’t recognize the handwriting as her friend’s. However, why would this man be here now if he didn’t believe it was true?
“Even so, Olivia never identified you as the father on Emma’s birth certificate,” she reminded him.
“Did she name anyone else?”
She ignored his question. “I was Olivia’s birthing coach—I went to prenatal classes with her and I was in the delivery room when Emma was born. And through it all, Olivia never once mentioned your name. And, contrary to what is in that letter, she claimed that Emma’s father knew of the pregnancy but wanted no part of his child.”
“That was the lie,” he said again.
And the contents of the letter he carried certainly bore that out. But she wasn’t ready to give up, she wasn’t ready to have her heart torn out of her chest, and she knew that was what would happen if he took Emma away.
“Still, I think the best course of action right now would be to have a paternity test.”
He frowned into his empty mug, then pushed back his chair to refill it. “Fine,” he said. “How soon can we get that done?”
“I can make some calls tomorrow,” she told him. “But probably not until sometime next week.”
His scowl deepened.
“And you’re going to need a lawyer,” she told him.
“Aren’t you a lawyer?”
“Yes, but I’m not going to represent you.”
“Why in hell do I need representation?”
“Because …” She hesitated, not wanting to give him any ideas about seeking custody if that wasn’t a course of action he’d already considered. Maybe he didn’t want Emma with him—maybe he just wanted to meet the little girl he believed was his daughter. So all she said was, “Because you should make sure you understand all of your rights and responsibilities.”
“I’m aware of my rights and responsibilities,” he assured her. “And I intend to be a father to my daughter.”
Which still didn’t tell her whether he was looking for full custody or standard every-other-weekend noncustodial parent access or occasional visits during his periods of leave.
“For how long?” she asked.
He frowned at the question. “What do you mean?”
“When do you have to report back for duty?”
“July seventh.”
Which was actually longer than she’d expected and still not nearly long enough if he was serious about building a relationship with Emma. “So why are you even here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why did you bother to come all this way, feign an interest in being a father to the child you claim is your own, if you’re going to go wheels up again in a few weeks?”
“I’m not feigning an interest,” he said. “And I’ll go wheels up again because that’s my job.”
“And if Emma is your daughter, who will take care of her while you’re doing your job?”
Zach was taken aback, not just by Paige’s question—which demonstrated the glaringly obvious fact that he hadn’t thought very far ahead when he’d embarked on this journey—but by the disapproval in her tone.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t have all of the answers. Maybe he didn’t have any of the answers. But he was determined to do the right thing and, as far as he could tell, being a father to his daughter was the right thing.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’ll make arrangements.”
“You mean day care,” she guessed.
“Didn’t you have her in day care?”
“Olivia had found a babysitter who lives close to the office. It’s a more personal environment than a day care and Emma’s happy there.”
“That’s great,” Zach said. “Except that I live in New Jersey.”
Paige dipped her head, her coppery hair falling forward to hide her face, but not before he saw the tears that filled her eyes.
He silently cursed himself for his insensitivity. Because he knew that as much as he’d been completely blindsided by the news that he had fathered a child, this woman had been just as shocked to find him standing at her door. For the past five-and-a-half months she’d been raising Emma. She’d been responsible for the day-to-day care of his child and, with a few simple words, he’d threatened to destroy the foundation of that relationship.
He impulsively reached across the table and touched a hand to her arm.
She jolted at the unexpected contact. Or maybe she’d been startled by the electricity that suddenly crackled in the air. It had sure as hell startled him.
She looked at him now, and he saw both wariness and awareness in the depths of her dark brown eyes. He’d expected her to have green eyes to go with the red hair. Instead, they were the color of rich, dark chocolate and sinfully tempting. His gaze dipped to her mouth, to lips that were naturally pink and sweetly curved, and he found himself wondering if they would taste as good as they looked.
Whoa—totally inappropriate thought there.
This woman was the legal guardian of his daughter, and it was unlikely he would gain either her trust or sympathy by making a move on her within two hours of meeting her. But he couldn’t deny he was tempted.
Of course, he’d been overseas for the past year and a half and hadn’t been with a woman for even longer than that. In fact, he hadn’t been with anyone since the last weekend he’d spent with Olivia … likely the weekend their daughter had been conceived.
Thinking of Emma reminded him why he was there, and he dropped his hand from Paige’s arm. But the air continued to crackle, the tension continued to build.
“I don’t want us to be adversaries,” he said at last.
“I don’t see how we can be anything else, not if it’s your intention to disrupt Emma’s life.”
“I want to get to know my daughter. How is that disruptive?”
“The disruption will come when you disappear from her life as abruptly as you appeared in it.”
She spoke with such conviction he guessed it was likely that she’d grown up with a father who was a transitory presence, too. He knew he had no hope of defending himself against her personal demons, so he only said, “Maybe we should continue this conversation tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because I just got home last night, I read Olivia’s letter this
