Книга - The Daddy Dilemma

The Daddy Dilemma
Kate Denton


The single father and the city slickerThe daddyGordon Galloway, as a devoted single dad with a custody suit on his hands, already has his fair share of problems. Now, he's totally smitten with Mackie Smith!The dilemmaBeautiful and spirited though Mackie might be, she is his ex-wife's lawyer. Besides being out of bounds, Mackie is convinced she is a better lawyer than she'd ever be a mother.And the babyEnter Gordon's baby daughter, Ashley, an adorable and mischievous bundle with an unwitting abililty to press Mackie's buttons–the ones to her deepest, most denied yearnings….DADDY BOOMWho says bachelors and babies don't mix?







“What would it take to get you to the altar?” (#u2b0b6c60-b368-551b-bdae-462c85b4687d)Welcome to DADDY BOOM! (#u6ed73687-ff35-5eab-9edf-1c4b34f597a7)Title Page (#u66621dd4-4c71-5483-81e7-019970a33cb9)PROLOGUE (#u511d5cb6-f48c-5bba-9fb8-62017cda51f5)CHAPTER ONE (#u01ed090d-81d4-5d48-b01f-c585d1cdc677)CHAPTER TWO (#u3f4db131-5f3b-5bc7-977f-821cbda11998)CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


“What would it take to get you to the altar?”

“If you must know...marriage really isn’t on my agenda,” Mackie replied.

“Not concerned about your biological clock?”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I like my life. It’s nice to sleep through the night without being awakened to tend to someone else’s needs.”

“But what about a lover awakening you to cuddle?”

“I thought we were talking about children.”

“You were the one bringing up sleeping undisturbed. Sounds like someone used to sleeping alone.”

“Who I sleep with is—”

“Out! Out!” Ashley shrieked. The baby’s rebellion against the car seat didn’t abate until they arrived back at Mackie’s.

Worn from her tantrum, Ashley settled into her makeshift crib, stuck her thumb in her mouth and fell sound asleep. Mackie stared down at the little girl, thinking how enchanting she looked in sleep, how lovable. For the first time in ages, Mackie fantasized about having a baby of her own, then quickly shook her head, drowning such craziness.


Welcome to DADDY BOOM!

just look who’s holding the baby now!

Following on from our highly popular BABY BOOM series,

Harlequin Romance


is proud to bring you DADDY BOOM, full of babies, bachelors and happy-ever-afters. Meet irresistible heroes who are about to discover that there’s a first time for everything—even fatherhood!

Fourth in our series is The Daddy Dilemma by Kate Denton.

We’ll be bringing you one deliciously cute DADDY BOOM

title every other month.

Look out in October for

The Tycoon’s Baby

by Leigh Michaels.






Who says bachelors and babies don’t mix?




The Daddy Dilemma

Kate Denton







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


PROLOGUE

THE more Mackie Smith heard, the madder she got. Gordon Galloway was a bully, no...a monster. Mackie pulled a tissue box from her credenza and set it within reach of the sobbing woman seated in front of her desk.

“It’s been so long since Ashley was in my arms, so long since my baby—” Beth dissolved into tears again. “I’ve begged, pleaded for three months...and he refuses even to let me see her.”

Attempting to curb her anger, Mackie took a deep breath. Who did Galloway think he was anyway?—riding roughshod over a vulnerable woman...keeping her from her daughter like this. Mackie could hardly wait to move into the courtroom arena and give him a dose of his own medicine. “We’re going to do whatever it takes to fix that,” she said to Beth. “I promise.”

“You don’t know Gordon. He’ll pull out all the stops. Tell lies...paint me as worse than I was. I realize I made a humongous blunder, but how long do I have to pay for it?”

“Let Mr. Galloway carry on till he’s blue in the face,” Mackie said. “Fortunately for us, it’s the judge who counts and Judge Fillmore won’t be swayed by one man’s ranting and raving.”

“But Gordon can be so convincing.” Beth shook her head helplessly. “And he’s rich now, too. Rich enough to influence a judge.”

Mackie got up from her chair and walked around to pat Beth on the shoulder. “So your former husband has more money than a Swiss bank—that won’t sway Fillmore, either.” Mackie gave the shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Try to relax and leave the fretting to me. If things go like I hope they will, you’ll have your baby in your arms for the weekend.”

“A weekend? I want more than that.”

“Of course you do. Only our chances are better if we approach this one step at a time. Remember what I told you—first we go for visitation, then we make the pitch for custody down the road.”

“But—”

“Beth...” Mackie took her client’s hands. “If I’m to be your lawyer, you have to trust me to know what I’m doing.”

Beth nodded resignedly.

“Now you’d better get going,” Mackie told her. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the courthouse...nine sharp.” She ushered Beth out of her office.

An hour later Mackie had another file on her desk to draw her attention, but her mind kept returning to the Galloway case. Tucking the ends of her neat brown bob behind her ears, she stared out the window at the montage of Dallas skyscrapers, silently praying that her skills would be enough, that she wouldn’t let Beth down. She knew how important her own lawyer’s support had been when she was groping her way out of a disastrous marriage. It was equally important to her now to do the same for others. Would I have left if there’d been a child? Her breath caught in her throat. Such thoughts were off-limits.

In the predawn hours, Gordon Galloway sat motionless in a rocking chair, watching his tiny daughter sleep. He’d been there the entire night, dozing occasionally, but unable to remain asleep for long. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his heart aching, squeezed in an invisible vise. Yet the possibility was too real. All because of Beth and her hotshot lawyer Mackie Smith.

Already those two were making his life a living hell, and things were just heating up. Gordon could visualize this morning’s hearing. Beth had a penchant for drama and the wronged maiden was one of her favorite roles. His imagination went into overdrive speculating on what kind of performance she’d give today to impress this particular audience of one—a judge with the power to blast Gordon’s world asunder.

His attorneys had told him to stop stewing, swore that there was no way Beth could finagle Ashley away from him. Easy for them to say—it wasn’t their child. And they had yet to catch Beth’s act. When she put her mind to it, Beth could charm the fangs off a snake.

For certain, Gordon wasn’t about to give up Ashley without a fight—gloves off if necessary, Marquis of Queensberry rules be damned. Yet he couldn’t erase the fear that no matter how tough a war he waged, he’d still lose. Even in today’s more progressive courts, the norm was to favor mothers over fathers in custody battles. Even mothers like Beth.

He glanced outside. Darkness had given way to a streak of pale pink light traversing the horizon. The dreaded day was here.

Rising stiffly from the chair, his muscles in rebellion at their long confinement, Gordon stretched and crept silently to Ashley’s crib, staring down at his daughter. He straightened her blanket, then reluctantly turned away. Time to shower and dress. As apprehensive as he might be about the contest ahead, he dared not be late.


CHAPTER ONE

POISED to present her case, Mackie stood in the center of the courtroom. Surreptitiously, she glanced at her adversaries seated at a table a few feet away. Gordon Galloway and his pack of attorneys from Alexander, Mott and Percy were awesome to behold. Talk about overkill. You’d think Galloway was taking on Microsoft.

“Your Honor,” Mackie began, directing her remarks to the judge, “as our petition affirms, my client’s ultimate goal is shared custody of her daughter. However, she wants to be the first to acknowledge past mistakes and seeks to redeem herself. That’s why I’m submitting a new motion.

“Rather than addressing the custody issue, all we ask from the court today is that Beth Galloway be allowed visitations every other weekend for the next six months, that she be given an opportunity to bond with her child and to establish herself as a fit mother.”

The stunned silence emanating from the opposing attorneys told Mackie that reactions were precisely as she’d anticipated. By admitting weakness and asking for less than expected, she had robbed the Galloway team of its chance to beat up on her client.

From Judge Fillmore, Mackie saw a spark of interest in her request. It was already midmorning and an overloaded docket lay ahead of him. The possibility of quickly dispensing with one matter had to be tempting.

“Give me a moment to read the motion,” the judge said.

Mackie used the opportunity to study Beth’s ex-husband. Earlier she’d spared him scant attention, noting little about his appearance beyond the fact that his medium brown hair was modishly cut. Now she had her chance for a better look.

One wouldn’t call him handsome in the conventional sense—his longish face rather angular, no-nonsense wire-rim glasses framing his eyes, his cropped hair ruffled from repeated hand raking. At the same time, something about Galloway made her want to step closer and take stock. Maybe the earnest gaze or the vivid blue eyes that even glasses and distance couldn’t hide. There was something understatedly sexy about the man. It was easy to see how an innocent like Beth could have been taken in.

The second the judge laid down Mackie’s documents, Sonia Mott, one of Galloway’s attorneys, rose to object, only to be cut off in mid-diatribe.

“Have you got some current evidence that shows this mother to be a danger to the child?” the judge interrupted.

“Well...”

“What do you call deserting a newborn?” Gordon Galloway barked in a voice that went all the way to the bench.

“Counselor, control your client,” the judge instructed sternly, sending Galloway and his team a stare strong enough to peel paint off the walls. “Petitioner’s request is granted. Alternate weekend visitation is temporarily established and further consideration of this matter is postponed for six months. At such time professional assessments will be made.” With that, he pounded his gavel, announced a brief recess and left the courtroom.

“We won!” Beth squeezed Mackie’s forearms in celebration, then her eyes shot past Mackie’s, her lips easing into a sly grin as she zeroed in on her former husband.

Mackie could appreciate her client wanting to gloat a little. But it wasn’t wise to toss gasoline on an already-combustible situation. She nudged Beth toward the door. “Get on to that job of yours and I’ll negotiate the logistics for Ashley.”

After listening stonily to arrangements for relinquishing his child the coming weekend, Gordon walked out with his lawyers as far as the elevators, then pointed at the water fountain, indicating they were to continue on without him. He took a couple of gulps to wash down the bile in his throat. Had his outburst caused the judge to rule in Beth’s favor? If it were physically possible, Gordon would kick himself from here to the end of the hall for losing his composure like that.

Normally he displayed the calm, thoughtful demeanor befitting the college professor he was. For a few moments in there, however, he’d been like a child in the throes of the terrible twos—unable to restrain his emotions. But dammit, this was about Ashley. It was torture having her welfare, her future, resting in the hands of others.

I can’t leave it like this! Charging back toward the courtroom where Mackie Smith remained behind, Gordon pushed open the door. She was just coming out and he almost collided with her, felt her hand pressing against his chest to avoid bodily contact.

Determined to get himself in control, Gordon retreated a step, bracing himself against one of the courtroom pews. “I tried offering Beth a settlement but she refused,” he began, breathlessness from anger and the too-close encounter vibrating in his voice. “Obviously my offer wasn’t enough. So please tell me how much she’s holding out for and we can move to end this charade.”

Mackie was taken aback, not sure what bothered her more—Galloway’s reappearance or the physical contact between them. That brief touch was as electrifying as those incredible blue eyes...eyes she could now see were framed by lush sable lashes. Her equilibrium wasn’t helped, either, by this revelation about a settlement offer. News to her—Beth hadn’t said a word. But that wasn’t what mattered at the moment. What mattered was putting some distance between herself and Gordon Galloway. “Really, Mr. Galloway, this isn’t appropriate.”

He gave her an irritated roll of the eyes. “Neither is your farce of a lawsuit. I repeat, how much?”

“Beth isn’t after your money.”

“The hell she isn’t. Aren’t you a tad suspicious that Beth’s interest in her daughter comes to life immediately after my inheritance from a rich aunt? Quite a coincidence, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Coincidences do happen,” Mackie said, trying to stifle her own irritation. “And even if everything you’re saying is true, the fact remains that we’re not supposed to speak without one of your attorneys being present. Goodbye.”

She brushed past him and made for the bank of elevators, stepping inside an empty car. The doors were closing when he reached a hand in and forced them apart, then leaped aboard.

“Our conversation is over, Mr. Galloway.”

“Oh, no, it isn’t.”

Mackie didn’t respond. She punched at the lobby floor button and glowered malevolently at him.

Gordon could easily read in her scowl what she was thinking. The man is pure gall. Well, yes he was—with no apologies. He could be as pushy and obstinate as a salesman on commission when it came to Ashley.

Prissy thing this Mackie Smith was, all puffed up with righteous indignation. If it weren’t for that frown and those lips pressed tightly together, she could be quite a knockout. Her figure was stylishly slender, and those green eyes brought emeralds to mind. All in all, though, a bit too flawless for his taste—every hair in place, makeup expertly applied, nails neatly manicured and polished a soft pink. A Neiman-Marcus mannequin come to life. That, or a well-dressed robot.

Galloway, are you crazy? The woman is your enemy Under the circumstances, her looks rank a zero in importance. Focus man. “Beth’s conniving and materialistic,” he declared, back on track with Mackie. “She’s pretending to want custody in the hope I’ll pay her off to drop the suit and go away. Turning down my first offer was simply part of her game.”

Mackie maintained her silence and rigid posture, making him even madder. If this stance was meant to discourage, then she’d sorely underestimated the level of his determination. Gordon snatched open the elevator’s control box and pushed a button. The car lurched to a halt.

Her frown deepened into a full-fledged glare. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to make you see how it is!”

“Again, this isn’t appropriate, Mr. Galloway.”

“Appropriate be damned. We’re not talking Ms. Manners here. This is about a father fighting like all get-out for his daughter.”

Mackie reached for the release button, but he held the panel shut, preventing access.

“Mr. Galloway! You’re wasting your time with me. I’m not going to argue the merits of this case with you in an elevator. I’ll give you just five seconds to get us moving again before I start screaming my lungs out for a guard.”

“OK, OK,” he said, throwing up his hands. “I should have known you were too stubborn to reason with. I was hoping to save myself a heap of frustration and spare you some embarrassment. But if you want to play the fool, fine.” He ran a hand across the back of his neck.

Mackie opened her mouth to yell just as Galloway released the emergency stop button. “Save your vocal cords, lady. You’ll need them for court when you start attempting to defend the indefensible. You may have prevailed in round one, but the battle is just starting. And,” he added, “be aware that I’ll do whatever it takes to hang on to my child.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“No, just a friendly warning.”

At that moment the doors opened on the ground floor and Galloway stormed off the elevator, leaving Mackie to gape after him. Friendly? If that was a friendly warning, she’d hate to be on the receiving end of an unfriendly one.

This guy was unbelievable—a real loose cannon. Sounding off to the judge, waylaying her in the courtroom, holding her captive in an elevator...speaking of which... People getting on made Mackie aware she’d better exit unless she planned to spend the day riding up and down. She walked to her car in the parking lot, still fixated on Galloway.

Loose cannon or not, he seemed so sure of his position, so adamant that Beth was not what she made herself out to be. Could he even be half right? Could money possibly be on Beth’s agenda? If so, why had Beth never so much as hinted that she sought part of her ex-husband’s recent financial windfall? If it was important, why hadn’t she revealed that she’d already been offered a share?

No, Galloway was simply shooting off his mouth, talking when he should have kept silent. What Mackie had just witnessed was the bruised pride of a wounded Texas male. His ego, battered by the desertion of his wife, had overridden his ability to think clearly and created a need to strike back. She must concentrate on that and not let him undermine her relationship with her client.

After all, Beth hadn’t tried to sugarcoat her role in her predicament. She claimed her actions had been triggered by postpartum depression, yet she hadn’t let herself off the hook. From day one, she’d owned up to irresponsible behavior. But simply because she’d misbehaved—even grievously—in those early weeks of motherhood was no excuse for Gordon Galloway’s punishing her by forever withholding her child. Beth had a right to be with her daughter and Ashley had a right to know her mother. As for Galloway’s rights—well, let Alexander, Mott, et cetera worry about them. Mackie had her own problems.

“What if he doesn’t bring her?” It was five minutes until six on Friday and Beth was planted in front of the window of the conference room adjacent to Mackie’s office, monitoring the parking lot for incoming cars.

“He will.” Mackie spoke more with bravado than conviction. During the proceedings and afterward, Galloway had acted mad enough to take the law into his own hands and defy a court order. Or to keep the opposition waiting till the last minute simply for the devilment of it. She glanced at her watch. Five fifty-nine now.

A knock sounded at exactly six. He must have been parked on the street. “You’re here,” Mackie said, her throat catching at the sight of the picture before her—Galloway carrying a precious little girl.

“Regrettably,” he said solemnly, his attitude bringing her back to earth.

She opened the door wider and gestured toward the conference room, studying the two as she followed behind.

The toddler was dressed in a pink coat trimmed with fake fur. Beneath the matching pink hat curled soft brown ringlets. Her blue eyes, exact copies of her father’s, took in Mackie from her shoulder-high view.

Beth stood transfixed at the back of the room as Gordon shifted a diaper bag off his shoulder onto the conference table. Neither spoke to the other.

Mackie walked over and urged Beth forward. “Come greet your daughter.”

Seemingly afraid to get too close to Gordon or Ashley, Beth tentatively approached. She reached out to take the baby from Gordon.

As if programmed by her father, Ashley let out a howl the instant Beth touched her. But instead of turning into the familiar male shoulder, the little girl flung herself toward Mackie’s arms. Mackie, nonplussed, gingerly took Ashley and held her as one might cradle a large cactus plant. “There, there,” she said uncomfortably, aware of Galloway’s scrutiny as she tried shifting the bundle to her hip.

“Lord help me,” he growled. “Give her back before you drop her. You’re as bad as your client—” he cast a menacing glance at Beth “—neither one with the maternal instincts of a cuckoo bird.”

For a moment Mackie reeled from the tongue-lashing, but then managed to regain her poise. “Insults won’t make this any easier, Mr. Galloway,” she huffed, again shifting the load in her arms and leaning her head out of reach of the curious little fingers trying to snag a gold earring.

“OK, I’ll keep quiet. Just give her to me.”

Mackie refused to relinquish the baby to him, defiantly handing her to Beth instead. Ashley’s lips curved down at the exchange but at least she didn’t start wailing again. Turning back to Galloway, Mackie announced crisply, “We won’t keep you any longer. This transaction is complete.”

“Transaction?” Galloway’s face darkened ominously. “Is that how you see it—a transaction?” He gave a puff of disgust. “Man. You and Beth are definitely kindred spirits.”

“And you’re a sore loser. What say we give the put-downs a rest and you be on your way? Beth has waited a long time for this reunion with her daughter. Why don’t we let them get to it?”

“Right...a long time,” he said, sparing no sarcasm. Then his shoulders seemed to sag a little in defeat. “I’ll be available all weekend if you need me, Beth. I’ve brought some clothes and toys, and a list of things she likes and dislikes. I’ll leave her car seat with the guard downstairs...oh, and here...”

Placing two business cards on the table, he slid one Beth’s way and one toward Mackie. “My home and cell phone numbers are on the back. I expect to be notified immediately if there’s the slightest problems.”

“There won’t be,” Mackie answered optimistically, motioning Gordon toward the door. He put a hand up to wave to his daughter, then departed.

“Well, thank heavens that’s over,” she said, smiling to Beth once he was gone. The smile faded immediately as Mackie moved her gaze to Ashley whom Beth had set on the conference table. In that brief period of time the child had upended a silver carafe, which was sending rivulets of water toward the business cards. Beth seemed oblivious to the spill.

“Better get those cards,” Mackie admonished. “While they’re still readable.” All hell would break loose if something happened to Ashley and Galloway weren’t informed.

Compliantly Beth reached for Ashley and the cards.

“Now let’s get you down to the car so you can spend the next two days getting acquainted.” Mackie started gathering up the paraphernalia. “You’re in charge now,” she said, turning to Beth.

Beth, who should have been euphoric, wore a dazed expression. “I can’t believe it’s happened. I expected something else to go wrong at the last minute, to...to...”

“Everything’s gone exactly as intended, so you can rest easy.”

Beth cleared her throat. “Not exactly everything.”

“Is there a problem?” Mackie asked. “Something you haven’t told me? I’m aware of Gordon’s settlement offer. Is it that?”

Beth’s eyes seemed to become shuttered. “No, not that.” She slid into a chair, Ashley on her lap. “I’m almost afraid to tell you.”

Mackie patted her arm comfortingly. “Don’t be silly—there’s nothing you can’t share with me. And whatever it is, we can handle it.” Mackie held her breath. Despite her encouraging words, she had a feeling she didn’t want to hear this.

“I was hoping you’d say that, but I’m in your debt so much already. I owe you big time, Mackie. Your support, your—”

Mackie signaled whoa. “We can’t start handling it until I know what’s wrong.”

“I need you to watch Ashley for me.”

“What!”

“I have to go back to the restaurant. You know I’m not supposed to work weekends...but there’s a big party scheduled...then Tammy called in sick...so there’s no one to act as hostess, manning the reservations desk, greeting people and seeing them to their tables. Rick told me I have to be there. If not, he’ll fire me. It’s just for a few hours. I’ll be off by ten or ten-thirty. But I can’t lose this job.”

Mackie panicked. Just a few hours?—might as well be a few years. She knew next to nothing about babies. Why, up until ten minutes ago, she’d never even held one. She wasn’t antikids—they just weren’t part of her life. Years ago she’d decided on career over motherhood.

“I don’t do children,” she said to Beth. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier so we could have postponed—”

“Postponed?” Beth’s voice took on a strident note. “Gordon would have loved that, now wouldn’t he? Just prove everything he’s been saying about me is true. You know I don’t have anyone else—no girlfriends, no family here—so please, please, please, can you look after Ashley this evening?” Beth reached out and grasped Mackie’s hand.

Mackie sighed. She’d promised to go the distance with Beth. What could she do but agree?

Ashley was cute to look at, but about as easy to control as a young chimpanzee. From the second Mackie had arrived at her town house with the toddler in tow, the latter had been expressing her displeasure with the arrangement. She’d turned up her nose at dinner, rebelled at having her diaper changed and refused to stay in the playpen Mackie had borrowed from a neighbor, preferring to roam around the unfamiliar territory.

Pricey art books, marble fruit and crystal obelisks now cluttered the mantel, secure from Ashley’s reach. Although by now Mackie would willingly sacrifice any one of them to Ashley’s mayhem if that would keep the baby from sobbing and pitifully begging for her “Da Da” the way she was doing.

“Don’t cry. Please stop crying.” Mackie cast her eyes upward in supplication. Where are you, Beth?

Pacing the floor with the fussy baby in her arms, Mackie noticed the warmth of her skin. She leaned her head back for a better view of the child’s face. It was flushed and tearstained. “Is it too hot in here? Or do you have a fever?” Don’t you dare have a fever.

At eleven-thirty, every shred of patience and energy exhausted, Mackie called the restaurant. “Beth Galloway, please.”

“Sorry, ma’am. Beth’s gone.”

Mackie hung up the phone. Hallelujah! Beth’s on her way.

For thirty more minutes Mackie circled the room and watched the time crawl by. Where was Beth? What could she possibly be doing? An accident perhaps. Or maybe she’d forgotten and gone home. She dialed Beth’s apartment. No answer. Of course Beth hadn’t forgotten—something was definitely wrong.

The waiting was getting intolerable. Ashley crying... Mackie worrying now about both Ashley and Beth.

Finally deciding she could no longer put off the inevitable, Mackie placed a weepy Ashley in the playpen with a bottle of milk to distract her, then fished out Gordon Galloway’s card from her briefcase and dialed his number.

“Mr. Galloway, this is Mackie Smith, Beth’s attorney. I know it’s late, but—”

“Has something happened to Ashley?”

“I don’t think it’s anything serious but she may be running a fever. If you’ll give me directions to your home, I’ll bring her there right away.”

“Did you take her temperature?”

“Uh, no. Not yet.”

“Did you even think about it?”

“No, frankly I didn’t. I’ve been too busy walking the floor with her the last four hours.”

“Give me the address. It’ll be quicker for me to come there.”

Mackie rattled off her street name and number.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He hung up before Mackie had a chance to say another word.

When the phone rang seconds later, Mackie guessed it was Galloway asking for directions. But it was Beth.

“Mackie, it’s me.”

“Beth, where are you? I’ve been frantic.”

“I’m fine...it’s a long story.”

Mackie, frazzled and not mollified by Beth’s non-answer, snapped, “Then give me the condensed version.”

“Uh-oh, I was afraid you’d be upset.”

“Upset? You might say that. First you spring the news you have to work, then you don’t come when you say you will—”

“My car stalled on the freeway, Mackie. I’ve been stranded for over an hour praying for someone to stop and help. A policeman’s here now and we’re waiting for a tow truck.”

“Jeez...that’s scary.” The thought of what could have happened when Beth’s clunker of a car gave out sent a chill through Mackie.

“Tell me about it,” Beth groaned. “But you all are OK, aren’t you?”

“Ashley’s restless. I think she may be running a fever.”

“Probably just a minor thing,” Beth replied. “Listen, I don’t know how long this will take and it’s late already. I think it’d be best for you to keep Ashley until morning. Oh, the wrecker’s here, gotta go.”

“Don’t hang up!” But the plea was too late. For the second time in less than ten minutes, Mackie heard only a dial tone at the end of a telephone line.

Gordon had grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and raced out to the garage within seconds of ringing off from Mackie Smith. He hoped he could drive, unnerved as he was by this turn of events. He’d wanted Ashley back, but not this way. What was going on with his baby? He had heard her whimpers in the background.

At least luck was partially on his side. It was late, but he was still dressed, so he hadn’t been delayed throwing on clothes. And Mackie’s place wasn’t that far away.

Mackie opened the front door of her town house just as Gordon’s finger started to hit the bell. “Where’s Ashley?” he demanded, rushing inside.

“Shh.” Mackie put a finger to her lips. Together she and Gordon tiptoed toward the middle of her living room where Ashley lay in the playpen, rump in the air, thumb in her mouth, sound asleep. “She’s fine now.”

Gordon bent over, gently placing the back of his hand on Ashley’s forehead. Her brow was cool. He straightened up. “No fever and her coloring’s good. Probably just upset over having her life upended.” A flinty glare punctuated the gibe to ensure that it wouldn’t escape Mackie’s notice.

Reassured that Ashley was indeed fine, Gordon looked around. Something was wrong with this picture. “Where in Hades is Beth? Why’s Ashley here with you?” He’d been too scared before to question why Mackie Smith was the one who had called him. Now he wanted some answers.

“Uh...there was an unavoidable emergency.”

“...‘an unavoidable emergency,’” he repeated. “Right...I’ll just bet.” A pause, then a derisive chuckle. “You’ll find Beth’s whole life is a series of ‘unavoidable emergencies.’ Another one of those endearing foibles of hers I tried to tell you about. Beth’s a manipulator, using everything and everybody to get what she wants. Believe me, I could cite chapter and verse—”

Mackie gave an impatient sigh. “I’m sure you’re relishing this opportunity to throw in a few more slurs about Beth, but it’s been a long day and I’m too tired to spar with you right now.”

Gordon heard the weariness in her voice and almost felt sorry for her. This was not the poised, self-confident woman he’d dealt with earlier. A few hours ago she’d been bandbox perfect—tailored wool suit, shiny gold earrings, spotless black pumps. Then, he’d come close to hating her—and her ability to tear his and his daughter’s life into shreds without breaking a sweat. This woman looked exhausted and vulnerable. Stained silk blouse hanging loose over her skirt, one earring missing, shoes off and a gaping run snaking up a leg of her sheer stockings. Quite a contrast.

She became aware of his assessment, smoothing back her mussed hair and tucking in her blouse. “Well...” she began, “guess it was only a false alarm. Go back home. We’ll be OK.”

Gordon cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

“You saw for yourself, Ashley isn’t sick. Sorry I bothered you, but there’s no point in your hanging around.”

“I won’t be ‘hanging around.’ I’m taking my daughter home.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Try and stop me.”

“You know full well I can’t, but the judge’s order can.”

“Nice try, Ms. Smith. Only the order says Ashley’s mother has visitation privileges this weekend. It says nothing about some hired hand laying claim to her. Besides, an hour ago you were ready to bring her to me.”

“Things have changed since then.” Mackie’s brain raced. “Surely you know the position you’re placing me in.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t get overly concerned with your ‘position.’”

“OK then, think about yourself. From where I’m sitting, Judge Fillmore isn’t all that fond of you. He isn’t keen on being sassed in court. Whether or not Beth violated the terms of her visitation—and that remains to be seen—if you take Ashley, then you will be too. Do you want to chance riling the judge even more, and possibly strengthening Beth’s hand when we do pursue joint custody?”

Gordon seemed to mull that one over. And while he was, Mackie added, “Besides, Ashley is down for the night Why wake her up when she’s already had a bad evening?”

More mulling on Gordon’s part. “I’m not about to walk out of here without my daughter. Yet you do have a point about not waking her up.” Gordon wasn’t about to concede any other points. “I’ll just camp out until Beth shows up.”

“No way. I must insist—”

“Insist till doomsday. I’m not leaving my daughter in the care of a stranger who clearly doesn’t know much about small children. Unless you think you’re strong enough to throw me out.”

“I wish.”

“Then you have a choice—either you get Beth over here pronto or I stay the night.”


CHAPTER TWO

GORDON’S pronouncement caused Mackie to throw her hands in the air. “So stay! But just so you know...I own one bed, which I have no intention of giving up. Or sharing. That leaves the couch for you and, as you can see, it’s sixty inches at best.” She gave a smirking assessment of his six foot plus frame. “I’m sure you’ll get lots of sleep.”

“Probably more than I was going to get before, worrying about Ashley with Beth. At least I’ll be able to ensure Ash is OK.”

“Well now that everything’s resolved to your satisfaction, I’m going upstairs to change into something more comfort—” Mackie stopped. All she’d meant to convey was that she was getting out of her work clothes, but the words were classic innuendo.

“Into something else,” she corrected. “Then I plan to have a sandwich. I haven’t eaten since lunch.” Without waiting for a response, she started up the stairs. Gordon remained behind in silence, yet with every step, she could feel his eyes following her ascent.

Minutes later, when Mackie returned to her living room dressed in an old pair of gray sweats, Gordon wasn’t there. She went to the kitchen and found him hunched over her refrigerator, pulling out packages of deli ham and cheese. Lettuce and a ripe red tomato were already draining on a paper towel by the sink.

“Making yourself right at home I see.”

“I haven’t eaten much today, either. Hope you don’t mind my helping myself. If you do, just bill me.”

Mackie rolled her eyes and handed him a loaf of seven-grain bread from the pantry. “Feel free... and while you’re at it, you can fix me a sandwich, too. Mustard, no mayonnaise.

“What do you want to drink?” she asked, replacing him at the refrigerator. “Milk? Beer? Water?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

“I hate that,” Mackie said. “Just pick what you prefer.” She set a Michelob on the counter along with a half gallon of milk.

“Milk. OK?”

Gordon had finished assembling the sandwiches and placed one in front of her, watching as Mackie poured milk into their glasses. “And what else do you hate?”

“Blue eye shadow, party cocktail wieners drenched in messy barbecue sauce, smokers puffing away at the next table in a restaurant,” she answered nonchalantly, carrying her food to the glass-topped table.

“Strange, isn’t it,” Gordon said, grabbing a napkin and joining her.

“What’s strange?”

“Us sitting here eating together like a couple of old friends.”

Her expression was one of incredulity. “Oh, I hardly think anyone would mistake us for friends.”

“Disgruntled married couple then.”

“Bad image, but closer.”

“Too close. I’d say we’re experts on bad marriages and the fallout that goes with them.”

“What do you know about me and my marriage?” Mackie said warily. He was right, but the details of her miserable four years with Bruce weren’t common knowledge.

“Nothing. Actually I was referring to your profession, not you personally. However, few people get into their thirties without taking the plunge at least once. Have you had a bad experience?”

A disastrous one. But the scars of her marriage—a bruised heart and pummeled psyche—were none of Galloway’s business. “It’s no secret I’ve been married,” she admitted, “but it’s not a subject I care to talk about.”

“Well, if we’re going to spend the night together, I think I should know something more about you than your name and marital status, don’t you?”

“If we were ‘spending the night together,’ as you put it, that might be true, but you’re only bunking on the couch. There’s no need for a round of true confessions.”

“Any children?” he persisted.

“As I said, I don’t want to talk about my past.”

“No, no children,” Gordon said. “Silly question anyway. It’s obvious your experience with kids is nil.” He leaned back in his chair. “So...what about brothers, sisters?”

“Mr. Galloway, you’re slow to catch on. There’s no reason for us to make small talk or to try to get better acquainted.”

“No, I suppose there isn’t Besides, I wouldn’t want you to accuse me of taking advantage of your hospitality. It’s obvious you’re tired and sleepy.” He took a last bite from his sandwich and drained the glass of milk. “Go on up to bed and I’ll rinse the dishes and wrap up the food.”

Mackie was past caring whether the dishes got rinsed or the food wrapped. She was fading fast and relieved that Galloway understood that much. Maybe he wasn’t willing to leave, but at least he wasn’t going to be a demanding guest. “Whatever,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”

“By the way...” Gordon’s voice stopped Mackie just as she reached the door of the kitchen. “Do you happen to have a spare toothbrush?”

Mackie eyed him skeptically as if the question was loaded. Then she said. “Medicine cabinet. Guest bathroom.”

Gordon watched her leave and pondered her reaction to him. Mackie Smith was one skittish lady. Was it the attorney or the unhappy divorcée showing through? Mackie was hard to read. She’d reacted to the marriage question and the innocuous family question as if she were a prisoner of war required to give only name, rank and serial number. Then he remembered—this was war. She and Beth on one side, he and Ashley on the other. Mackie Smith wasn’t forgetting that and neither should he. He shouldn’t be letting his guard down or getting too chummy.

Mackie slept until nine the next morning, waking with a start when she realized how late it was. Shrugging quickly into her robe, she tore downstairs, fearful she’d find the Galloways long gone.

Once in the kitchen, her anxiety subsided as she came upon the two having breakfast together. Ashley, sitting on the cabinet, was eating slices of banana. Gordon, standing in front of her, was drinking coffee and coaxing the baby to take spoonfuls of cereal.

“I...uh, I overslept,” Mackie said, flustered and searching for something to say. She was glad the chenille robe was strictly of the utilitarian variety. Galloway’s peep show was enough. He was dressed, but his shirt was unbuttoned and hanging loose, revealing an expanse of furry chest. Maybe it was because she wasn’t used to bare chests in the morning, but the view of male flesh was disconcerting. She averted her gaze. “I need coffee—bad.”

“Coffee’s made,” he said hostlike, gesturing toward the nearly full carafe as if they were in his kitchen rather than hers.

Mackie poured a cupful, holding the mug with both hands as she watched the interaction between the Galloways. “You found something for her to eat.”

“Yeah, been rummaging again. I’m grateful you’re not the type of woman who stocks only tofu and sprouts.”

“A compliment? That’s almost too much to handle first thing in the morning.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it later.”

“I’m sure you will.”

The baby, tiring of the cereal and the adult conversation, pushed away the spoon in her father’s hand and centered her attention on Mackie.

“Hi,” Mackie said tentatively.

The little girl didn’t answer, but did respond with a grin of tiny teeth.

The grin was irresistible and Mackie could only smile back. “Is she feeling OK this morning?” she asked Gordon.

“She’s great.”

“That’s good.” At least there wasn’t a pediatric health crisis facing her, Mackie thought. So what do I do now? Beth would be arriving before long and it might be dicey if Gordon was still around when she did. Addressing that was priority number one. “Don’t mean to rush you along,” she said, “but since everything’s under control, why don’t you run on home? Beth should be here soon.”

“You don’t get it, do you? For a sharp legal eagle...” He shook his head as if unable to believe anyone capable of such naivete. “First, I’m staying till Beth shows. Second, don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen. God only knows when it’ll be. Experience says she’ll come when she’s good and ready. My money’s on tomorrow. About a half hour before her visitation’s due to end.”

Mackie encountered enough strife in court appearances during the week and wanted only peace and quiet on the weekends. Today that appeared about as likely as Galloway turning into a nice human being. She was mentally composing a nifty retort when the telephone rang.

“Mackie?”

“Good morning, Beth.” Smugly Mackie cast her eyes at Galloway who was monitoring, her conversation. “How’s the car thing going?”

Big sigh from Beth. “You know mechanics. I’m sitting here at the garage cooling my heels and now he tells me it’s going to be midafternoon before it’s fixed. A part has to be sent over. There’s no way I. can get to your place before three. Go ahead and tell me I’m the worst client ever, but I need to beg for another favor. Can you keep Ashley a bit longer?”

A bit? Three o’clock was almost six hours from now. But what choice did she have? “I suppose I can hold down the fort until three.”

“You’re a dear, Mackie. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Promise.”

“Car trouble...that was the emergency? She used to be more original than that,” Gordon taunted as Mackie hung up the phone.

“Give it a rest,” Mackie snapped. “Beth’s doing the best she can. Not everyone can afford cars that don’t break down at the most inconvenient times. Shiny new Infiniti vans like you’ve got parked out front don’t fit most budgets.”

“Would Beth go away if I bought her a new car? She can have an Infiniti, too, if she wants. Or a Mercedes. Her choice. You can tell her that if she ever arrives. As for me and Ash, we’re going home.”

“Leave with my blessings; only Ashley stays here.”

“No way. When Beth comes, I’ll zip right over here and hand Ashley over... just like the judge ordered. But in the meantime, I need a shower and she needs a chance to wander around somewhere safe.”

Mackie bristled. “You act like my home is seeded with land mines.”

“Almost. You’re damn sure not equipped for a fifteen-month-old. Those steep stairs are a hazard to grown-ups much less kids and I have yet to spot a plug protector or cabinet guard.

“Besides, how long do you think that white upholstery and those oriental rugs will hold up to a toddler’s abuse?”

“That’s my problem.”

“No, it’s Beth’s problem and she’s not here to handle it. I don’t think the judge gave Ashley’s mother temporary custody for the weekend only for her to turn around and transfer it to her lawyer.”

“There are extenuating circumstances here, Mr. Galloway,” she protested. “And most reasonable people would extend some leeway to Beth. After all, car problems can be overwhelming.”

Gordon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Be that as it may, if it weren’t the car, then Beth would find something else to be overwhelmed about. She always does. She was overwhelmed when she got pregnant, when she delivered, when she came home with the baby. Do you realize that she ignored her daughter from the very beginning? Didn’t want to hold her, cuddle her, feed her?”

“Symptoms of postpartum depression at its most severe,” Mackie defended.

“A lot of women suffer depression after giving birth but they don’t abandon a month-old infant like Beth did.”

“How can you blame her for something she had no control over? Her behavior was the result of a medical condition.”

Gordon poured more coffee into his cup, then turned to face her. “I blame her because I think she latched on to the handy label of postpartum depression to get sympathy. She’s got a medical condition all right—she was born without a heart. And there’s no cure for that.”

“Why are you so hostile, so unforgiving? You don’t give your former wife an inch.”

Gordon, agitated, almost sloshed the coffee out of his cup. “Lady, my concern is for my daughter. If you were in my shoes, you’d act just like me. Only you’re not, and you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know a lot more than you think.”

“I’m aware you’re a family rights advocate, a do-gooder who volunteers a lot of hours to help women who are down and out—”

“Been checking up on me?” she broke in.

“Through my attorneys. It pays to know a little about your adversaries. The point I’m trying to get to is that with your background, surely you’ve come across one or two rotten apples who need a boot to the behind more than a pat on the head.”

“Yes, but that’s not the case here—”

Before she could speak further, they were interrupted by Ashley’s tearing up.

“Look at that. We’re upsetting her,” Gordon scolded. “She isn’t used to hearing adults’ squabbling.”

“The last thing I want to do is make Ashley cry. But don’t expect me to simply remain mum while you attack my client.”

“Forever loyal. You’re probably...” Gordon shook his head. “You’re probably even representing Beth pro bono. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re busting your rear, providing her legal representation, even taking care of her child, and Beth’s not even paying you a fee.”

Mackie grimaced. From Gordon’s lips, her humanitarian deed sounded like the height of stupidity. What was it to him, anyway? “My being paid or not paid is immaterial. I’ll have you know—”

In the midst of being read the riot act, Galloway flashed her a disarming smile. “Actually it is material,” he said. “Clues me in to the fact that you and I have something in common.”

“We do? I can hardly imagine what.”

“Being totally taken in by a con artist, that’s what. Welcome to the club.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t patronize me. You can take your club and stuff it.”

Surprisingly Gordon laughed and in spite of herself, Mackie did, too.

He put his hands on her arms. “How about a compromise?”

She eyed him suspiciously, stepping back. “What kind of compromise?”

“If I leave, you’re going to have the same situation as last night—Ashley in a strange place with a strange person. Most likely being pretty vocal about not liking the situation. Since Beth won’t be here for hours, come home with me so I can shower and shave and Ashley can have some time in familiar surroundings. Then we’ll get back over here by midafternoon. Deal?” He stuck out his hand for a shake.

Mackie thought for a moment, then accepted his offer. His touch was warm, his long fingers wrapping around her own. This was not at all like a business handshake, more of a caress. Uncomfortable, she pulled free, then excused herself. “OK, Mr. Galloway, I’ll be ready to leave in a half hour.”

“Do you think you could call me Gordon? This Mr. stuff is getting pretty tiresome.”

“All right then...Gordon.”

The neighborhood was beautiful with its wide curvy streets and stately old homes. The St. Augustine grass favored in Dallas now lay in a dormant strawlike phase, but the live oaks were vigorously holding on to their rich greens and the hearty pansies added a flash of color to the oversize lawns.

Gordon’s house was a two-story of brick and Austin stone showcased nicely by landscaped grounds and imposing trees. It was charming, warm and inviting.

They parked at the curb and Mackie followed Gordon and Ashley up a brick path to the front door. Still balancing Ashley in his arms, Gordon unlocked the door and motioned Mackie inside.

A tortoiseshell cat came padding down the staircase to check out the group. As Mackie shed her jacket and purse and deposited them on a coat tree, the cat circled her ankles. “And who is this?” Mackie reached down to stroke the animal who responded with a loud purr.

“Cleo. She likes you already because you’re older than fifteen months and haven’t tried to pick her up by the tail. Poor thing is accustomed to being chased, teased and manhandled as only a toddler can do. Half my waking hours are spent protecting her from Ash’s clutches.”

He escorted Mackie into a large family room, with French doors leading to a patio and pool area. Depositing his daughter on the sofa, he took off her coat and bonnet. “Will you watch Ash while I clean myself up?”

“Sure.” Mackie cast a wary glance at the toddler as Gordon left the room. “Go easy on me,” she implored the child who had eased off her perch and was busily ripping pages from a magazine.

He stuck his head back in. “Put on a Barney video and she’ll be putty in your hands.”

Grateful for the hint, Mackie did just that. Ashley got back up beside her on the couch mesmerized by the purple dinosaur on the television. Mackie sat watching Barney for the first time in her life and then, entranced, watched Ashley swaying to the music and clapping her hands enthusiastically.

In a few minutes, Gordon reappeared in jeans and a jacquard-weave sweater, his hair damp from his shower. “Now to get Ash ready,” he announced. “Or would you like to be the one to give her a bath?”

“Funny man,” Mackie answered. “I’ll just wait here for the two of you.”

At Gordon’s suggestion, they agreed to pass the time till Beth’s scheduled appearance tending to weekend errands. First picking up photographs at the camera shop, then a visit to an open-air mall to purchase shoes for Ashley, after that a stop at the pet store to buy cat food for Cleo.

It wasn’t yet one o’clock but Mackie was ready for a break. This routine was daunting. She stretched within the confines of her seat belt.

“Bored?” Gordon asked.

“More awed than bored. And maybe a tiny bit fatigued. I do these same sorts of chores every Saturday, but a child definitely adds a...um...a new dimension.” She glanced at Ashley in her car seat punching the buttons of a toy mobile telephone, causing a racket of beeps and bells.

“‘New dimension.’ That’s a diplomatic turn of phrase. You mean new dimensions like packing the car safari-style with toys, snacks, diapers, what have you... then buckling her in a car seat, arriving at your destination, unbuckling, getting out strollers, putting back strollers...whew, makes me tired just to think of it.” He grinned. “If I didn’t love having her with me so much, I’d give in to exhaustion myself.” Glancing at his watch, he said, “It’s lunchtime. What say we grab a bite somewhere? Preferably a place where we can order something speedy. Ash has a short attention span in restaurants.”

“Sounds good. Do you have a restaurant in mind?”

He thought for a moment. “There’s an Italian place in Highland Park Village where we can dine alfresco. She likes that.”

The day was crisp but not cold, perfect weather for eating outside. After getting a table and a high chair for Ashley, they ordered salads and pizza.

“Who takes care of Ashley while you work?” Mackie asked.

“A part-time nanny. I have an arrangement with a wonderful lady who comes to the house three days a week. She adores Ashley and vice versa.”

“And the other two work days?”

“I don’t have classes then so I take care of her myself.”

“That doesn’t leave much time for a social life, or for going out.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Fishing for some tidbit to use against me? Like my admitting to having a different woman over every night?”

“It was a simple observation,” Mackie said grumpily. “Next you’ll be accusing me of taping our conversations for evidence.”

“Sorry. But it’s hard not to be paranoid. You and I do have conflicting interests.”

“Believe it or not, I care about Ashley’s welfare, too.”

“If you did, you’d be fighting for me. For a family rights champion, you’re on the wrong side in this one, Mackie. That woman—”

Mackie held up a hand. “—is someone who deserves a second chance. She’s really turning her life around—counseling, college courses, a hostess job at Café Maurice, even joined a church—”

“Gee, a regular saint. Probably be selected Dallas Mother of the Year,” Gordon sniped.

“Why don’t we just focus on our salads instead of on the case?”

Both were silent for a time, then the tension was lifted by Ashley, who began acting like a little coquette. First flirting with the man at the adjoining table, grinning every time he looked her way, then with the waiter whom she cast her eyes at while trying to heist pencils from his apron pocket.

Gordon and Mackie couldn’t help but laugh at his daughter’s outrageous ways. “I pity the boys when she gets older,” Mackie said.

“I pity me.”

The pizza arrived and they ate and talked, both trying to keep the conversation innocuous. The food was delicious and none of the other diners seemed offended by the mess Ashley was creating. A flock of birds could have feasted on the leavings beneath the child’s high chair. Broken saltines, a tomato slice, chunks of pizza crust. A line was crossed, however, when Ashley tossed her cup down and splattered Mackie’s shoes with milk.

“That’s it—time to go,” Gordon said, signaling for a check. “She always starts clearing the table when she’s getting restless.”

Once they were back in the car, Gordon said, “In answer to your question at the restaurant—after being married to Beth, I’ve pretty much cooled it on socializing with the opposite sex.”

Mackie was surprised, and strangely elated, that he’d bothered to explain. So Gordon Galloway was not only single, but available. She tried to squelch the pleasure she felt at that bit of information, deciding it was safer to keep feuding. “Some people would say you’re a cynic.”

“And some people would be right. Since news spread of my inheritance, the number of women lining up to be the next Mrs. Galloway is enough to make any man cynical. I never had to beat off women with a stick before.”

I find that hard to believe. Money wasn’t Gordon Galloway’s main draw. Not with that killer grin and those clear blue eyes that called to mind a mountain lake. Mackie caught herself, appalled by her own thoughts. This was totally unacceptable...engaging in such musings about an opponent. An opponent who was the biological equivalent of pond scum according to his ex-wife. “So why beat them off,” she persisted. “Don’t you think Ashley needs a mother?”

Gordon gave her a chiding, “Tsk, tsk.” “And here you’ve been telling me she already has a mother, a dear loving one, in Beth. Or was your question whether I plan to remarry? Ms. Smith, you’re getting very personal. Are you interested?”

Mackie fought back an embarrassed flush. “Don’t flatter yourself. I couldn’t get interested in you even if I wanted to. Ethically you’re a no-no. Besides, I’m not one of those predatory women who favors a man solely because he happens to have a big bank balance.”

Gordon chuckled. “So a man’s money doesn’t appeal. What would it take to get you to the altar?”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t ask that.”

“Oh I see, your personal questions are acceptable, mine aren’t.”

“OK, if you must know...marriage really isn’t on my agenda.”

“Not concerned about your biological clock?”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. The truth is the only clock which concerns me is the one which wakes me up in the morning. I like my life. Among other advantages, it’s nice to sleep through the night without being awakened to tend to someone else’s needs. Now take your best shot.”

“What’s that?”

“Accuse me of being selfish and self-centered.”

“Actually there’ve been a few nights when I’d probably agree with you. But what about a lover awakening you to cuddle?”

“I thought we were talking about children.”

“You were the one bringing up sleeping undisturbed. Sounds like someone used to sleeping alone.”

“Who I sleep with is—”

“Out! Out!” Ashley shrieked, rescuing Mackie from completing her answer. The baby’s rebellion against the car seat and tearful whining and crying consumed Gordon’s attentions during the rest of the drive.

The crying didn’t abate until they arrived back at Mackie’s. Worn from her tantrum, Ashley settled into her makeshift crib, stuck her thumb into her mouth and fell sound asleep. Mackie stared down at the little girl, amazed this could be the same impossible child of moments ago and thinking how enchanting she looked in sleep, how lovable. For the first time in ages, Mackie fantasized about having a baby of her own, then quickly shook her head, disowning such craziness.





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