Whose Baby Part 7

Ahead, the house seemed to grow out of the hillside and the forested land, the cedar siding and shake roof blending in, the several levels and the rock work around the foundation somehow disguising the sheer size of the structure.Lynnsuddenly imagined Rose wandering in the middle of the night, lost and scared, trying to find her daddy's bedroom.

Don't be silly, she told herself sharply. Rose seemed loved and secure. Her bedroom would be near his. Surely.

Lynnadmired the flower beds filled with shade-loving plants likehostas and Solomon's seal that flowed into the natural landscape as if G.o.d himself was the gardener. She couldn't quite see Adam Landry on his knees in the dirt pulling weeds. Even if he had built a sand castle with gusto. No, he'd have a gardener, as well as a housekeeper.

The car rolled to a stop. "Well," she said, trying to sound hearty. "We're here." "Oh." Sh.e.l.ly's enthusiasm seemed to have dwindled. She stared at the house, her voice small. "I don't see Rose." "She doesn't know we're here yet."Lynnattempted a cheerful smile. "Did you see the bridge? I'll bet Rose will show you around her woods." "Like I showed her my beach." "Right." Except, these woods reallywere Rose's. Sh.e.l.ly unbuckled her own car seat and inched forward.

"Can we go see Rose?" "You betcha." They didn't reach the front door before Adam came out with Rose holding his hand. Today he wore crisp khaki slacks and a polo shirt with a tiny and probably expensive emblem on the pocket. What he looked was handsome, unapproachable and not quite real: the wealthy professional pretending to relax.

Lynnhad felt more comfortable with him when he wore jeans and a T-shirt. The two girls murmured, "Hi," and hung their heads. Adam's dark gaze met hers. "Come on in." She wondered if he would have invited her at all if their daughters had gone racing right off to play. Inside the carved-wood door, a slate entry led to a large living room with a wall of windows, palenubby carpet and warm, comfortable leather furniture. A few antiques lent character to a room that might have been too colorless and modern forLynn's tastes. She loved the wool tapestry that hung on one wall, a dark African mask on another.

The elegance of the room made her confidence plummet another inch.

"What a beautiful room."

"Thank you." He barely glanced at her. "How are you, Sh.e.l.ly?"

"Fine," she whispered.

"Rose has been excited about having you come." Sh.e.l.ly peeked at her friend but said nothing. Rose hid

behind Daddy's leg.

He tried again. "Would you like Rose to show you her room?"

Sh.e.l.ly didn't let go ofLynn's hand. In her piercing voice, she asked, "Mommy, are you gonna go?"

"That's the plan." She sounded as bright and fake as a dinner-plate dahlia,Lynnthought ruefully. "Remember? We talked about it. I'm going to do some mom things. Shop, and call a friend. I'll bet you won't miss me for a second."

"Yes, I will," Sh.e.l.ly said clearly.

"Not once you start to play-"

"Ilike to shop, too."

Out of the corner of her eye,Lynnsaw Rose's face start to crumple. A crease deepened between Adam's brows.

"Honey," she said gently, "I know you'll have fun with Rose. We don't want to disappoint her."

Sh.e.l.ly held her hand in a death grip. This time she whispered, "Can't you stay, Mommy?"

G.o.d help her, she was pleased that Sh.e.l.lyhadn't dashed off without caring whether her mother left. How petty could you get? These visitshad to work! Darn it. She was an adult. She owed it to both children to be selfless.

Crouching,Lynnlooked her daughter in the eye. "Honey," she began.

Adam interrupted, "Maybe I can talk your mom into staying for a while. Rose and I planned a nice lunch. You'll join us, won't you,Lynn?"

Oh, right, she thought.Now be cordial. Pretend this "dumping her daughter for the day" thing was her idea. His easy, "of course you're welcome" voice made her the villain.

Torn between her daughter's pleading brown eyes and her own flash of anger, she couldn't speak for a moment. Just as well, because the pause gave her time to realize that he was right: they had to pretend. And, by G.o.d, she could do it as well as he could!

"I'd love to," she said, smiling. "Maybe first Rose would show me her bedroom."

Her gaze met his briefly, with a chill on both sides that neither of their voices revealed.You don't want me in your house , her eyes said,but she's my child .I'll sit on her bed and admire her toys and coax her into friendship, whether you like it or not.

Sure you can, his said in return.Today. Because the girls have left me no choice. But don't get your hopes up, lady. We're not setting a precedent here .

"Good idea," he said with the same charm he'd show a new client. "Rosebud, I'll betLynnwill enjoy seeing your dolls."

The floors were hardwood beyond the living room, the halls s.p.a.cious. She caught glimpses into other rooms: one that held a dark big-screen television and a bank of stereo equipment, a formal dining room, an office with a huge leather chair and a state-of-the-art computer and a fax machine that hummed as it rolled out pages. Rose led the way, Sh.e.l.ly gaining enough confidence to peer through doorways and finally let go of her mom's had when Rose said," My bedroom is that one."

All the way,Lynnfelt Adam behind her with a p.r.i.c.kling, disquieting awareness.In the presence of mine enemy .

What she hated most was the knowledge that her reaction was partly s.e.xual. Adam Landry would have been the kind of boy she'd watched from afar in middle school and high school and college. With that build, he must have been an athlete. With his confidence, he was probably the student body president. Pet.i.te, sparkly blondes would have hung on his arm, not quiet, shy girls with difficult hair.

This man was that boy all grown up, and she was no more capable of exchanging snappy repartee or sultry looks than she'd been then.

Worst of all, the man he'd grown into was obviously capable of kindness and restraint and intense love. Then , she had told herself the popular boys were shallow. Her mother had agreed, hugged her and told her to look for a late-bloomer, they were the best kind.

How disconcerting to discover that she still secretly wished he would notice her. Not as if she really truly wanted him, but because his attention would mean she had arrived. She could be one of those girls who casually slipped an arm around any boy's waist,who laughed with him and boldly asked him to dance and a.s.sumed she would have a date on Friday night.

No, it wasn't that she wanted Adam Landry to share her unnerving awareness. Heaven forbid. He was the enemy. He only represented something to her. He awakened inchoate girlish longings she'd thought long dead. He was a symbol.

She grimaced when the girls weren't looking her way and wondered for the forty-second time: Why couldn't Sh.e.l.ly's birth father have been a nice plumber with a tub of his own?

"See? This is my room," Rose said shyly.

"Ooh," Sh.e.l.ly breathed, andLynn's heart sank anew.

Right behind her daughter, she stepped into a young girl's fantasy kingdom, all pink and purple, with shelves and shelves of dolls, some porcelain, some meant for play. And horses Breyer's statues of the Black Stallion and Misty of Chincoteague and a unicorn with a glittering horn. The gleaming mahogany rocking horse was an.o.bjet d'art, not a child's plaything. Rose had her very own cushioned window seat heaped with stuffedanimals, and a small Ferrari parked in front of a huge pink plastic Barbie house, completely furnished.

Lynnstood there with her mouth open. Her worst fear had come true. Rose would never want to visit her. Sh.e.l.ly would never want to come home.

He had bought his victory.

She'd tried. Adam had to give her that. She clearly didn't want to stay any more than he wanted her to.

Or so he told himself. If he were being brutally honest, he'd admit that he had sweated all week over this visit. He felt inadequate enough with Rose. What in h.e.l.l would he do if Sh.e.l.ly skinned her knee and cried or got homesick and wanted her mommy?

His mother wasn't a feminine woman. A potter, she had most often worn denim overalls and rubber boots she could hose off. Barb Landry was a creative, pa.s.sionate, intelligent woman, and not for a moment even in his childhood would he have traded her in for any of his friends' mothers, but she hadn't been terribly interested in her son's childish problems, either. She wanted nothing more than to be back in her studio, as if the spinning of her potter's wheel had mesmerized her so that she could never wander far from it. He'd always known, when she made him lunch or looked at his artwork or helped with homework, that she would have preferred to be footing a bowl or delicately incising a pattern in a vase or experimenting with firing temperatures.

From her he'd learned to focus with an intensity most people couldn't manage. A single-minded commitment to work brought success. He'd learned the power of words and books and ideas. He'd grown up to be self-sufficient.

He hadn't learned a d.a.m.ned thing about parenting. Especially, about parenting a little girl.

Adam envied and resentedLynnChanak'sease with both Sh.e.l.ly and Rose. He doubted she ever wondered whether she was doing everything wrong. Her ability to talk warmly and directly to a child without patronizing was exactly why he didn't want her here. In comparison, he felt wooden, even less capable of appearing to be the perfect father-figure than usual.

Her same ability explained his relief when she'd graciously agreed to stay.

It didn't explain why he couldn't seem to take his gaze from her nicely rounded hips and tiny waist as he followed her down the hall. Today she wore a little black miniskirt that exposed plenty of leg and fit her bottom like...

He swallowed an expletive. The completion of that sentence was a figure of speech. His hands had no business on her b.u.t.t.

When she paused in Rose's bedroom doorway, his gaze moved upward to the generous swell of b.r.e.a.s.t.s barely disguised by a plum-colored silky shirt loose over a white tank top. He wondered if she knew the lace of her bra showed through the thin ribbed knit tank.

Then there was her hair, gathered into a high ponytail that spilled thick auburn curls to the middle of her back. The wanton disorder of those curls was an intriguing contrast to her slender, pale neck and firm chin. Her hair would be glorious tumbled across a pillow.

Adam almost groaned at the lurch of s.e.xual desire. Unlike many men, he didn't make a habit of seeing every woman as a s.e.xual object. He couldn't remember the last time he'd pictured a woman in his bed.

This was sure as h.e.l.l not the one to start with.

Think of Rose, he told himself.Think of Sh.e.l.ly, and the G.o.d-awful mess all their lives already had become.

His mouth twisted. Add even a flirtation, and he and Lynn wouldn't have a hope of achieving the friendly, flexible, rational relationship they would need to make this bizarre attempt to share their daughters work.

Through his preoccupation Adam finally became aware thatLynnhad been silent for too long. Still on the threshold of Rose's bedroom,Lynnstudied every shelf, every corner, with a care that made him nervous. What was wrong? Had he tried too hard? "Does she know how lucky she is?"Lynnasked. He plumbed her tone for sarcasm and came up with sadness. Because she'd never be able to buy as much for Sh.e.l.ly?

"I wanted everything to be perfect for her." He took a step closer, looking over her shoulder into his daughter's room, where both girls crouched in front of the Barbie house and talked animatedly. "I wasn't trying to spoil her."

"I didn't say you were."

"But you don't like her room."

She gave him an anguished look. "It's fairyland. What little girl wouldn't be thrilled?"

He still didn't get it. "You think Sh.e.l.ly will be jealous?"

Her smile trembled. "I think she won't want to come home."

Adam felt stupid for not understanding. "You can't buy love." Although Rose's room looked as if he'd

tried, he saw suddenly. The next instant, he squashed his chagrin. d.a.m.n it, he'd worked hard for his success! He sure as h.e.l.l wasn't going to be ashamed of his ability to buy his daughter what she wanted. "No. You can't buy love." But she didn't sound certain. "It's all so neat. Did you clean specially for Sh.e.l.ly's visit?" His grunt held little amus.e.m.e.nt. Here was the kicker. "Rose doesn't play with most of this stuff. She doesn't want to be up here by herself. She has friends over once in a while, but otherwise..." He shrugged. Rose still cried at night, too. A couple of times a week she crept down the hall, whimpering, and slipped into bed with him. The books he'd read said parents should never let their children sleep with them, but sometimes he weakened. He'd never been good at listening to his Rosebud cry herself to sleep. One more thing he wished he could ask other parents, but didn't have the nerve. Did other three-year-olds need a diaper at night? Did they wake with nightmares, fear the shadows in the closet? He had done everything he could to make Rose's bedroom beautiful and friendly. Obviously he lacked the knack. If Jennifer had been here... But she wasn't. All he could do was his best. "I'd better go work on lunch," he said abruptly. Lynngave him a distracted glance. "Can I help you?"

"It's a one-man job."

As he turned away, she went into Rose's bedroom. All the way back to the kitchen he could hear her voice, sweetly feminine and bubbling with delight, as she chattered with the girls. He had no doubt she would admire everything Rose most loved and succeed in entrancing his daughter. She would know exactly what to say, would feel perfectly comfortable sitting cross-legged on the floor joining in their games.

He'd expected Rose to talk about Sh.e.l.ly this past week, and she had. What he hadn't antic.i.p.ated was that she'd also keep bringing upLynn's name.

Tuesday, on the way home from day care, she had pulled her thumb from her mouth and said out of the blue, "Lynnis prettier than Amada's mommy."

Amanda's mommy was sensational, all legs and cleavage and pouty mouth, but as it happened he agreed with Rose.Lynnwas prettier.

Wednesday, in the middle of Ann's dinner, Rose had said shyly, "Lynnis funny, isn't she?"

Lynnhad freckles, Rose had also told him another day, as if he hadn't noticed. And she ran fast, didn't she? Lynn, it appeared, had acquired a fan club. And he was jealous. Adam swore under his breath and savagely chopped a green pepper, then sc.r.a.ped it into a bowl.

He'd moved on to whacking an onion when he realized he was no longer alone.

She stood hesitantly just inside the kitchen. "You could use help."

"I can chop. It's one of my few kitchen skills."

Her smile looked too d.a.m.n much like Rose's. "Are you sure you have enough for me? Sh.e.l.ly is more comfortable now. I could probably get away."

"No. I should have suggested this in the first place."

She nodded seriously, her ponytail bobbing. "Why don't we do the same next week? You join us for lunch,then slip away for a bit. There's no reason not to take it slowly." He resented her wisdom, as well as the implicit truth: they had years to get to know their respective daughters. This relationship was darn near as permanent as marriage.

"You're right," he said curtly.

She bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He looked up, jaw muscles locked.

Antagonism flared to life inLynn's eyes. "No. I have nothing to be sorry for, except that this happened in the first place. I won't apologize again."

Adam swore and shoved the cutting board away, setting down the knife. "Well, I will. I'm being a jacka.s.s. I just... Oh, h.e.l.l. I had visions of my two daughters and I having a carefree day. The truth is,I have no idea how to talk to Sh.e.l.ly. I'm not exactly a natural parent. Not the way you are."

Shock replaced the hostility. "But Rose obviously adores you. Why on earth would you think..."

He immediately regretted having opened his big mouth. "Forget it. I'm just not used to kids. You think when you have your first baby that the two of you will learn together."

"Yes,"Lynnsaid softly, that indefinable sadness creeping over her. "You do."

He wasn't the only one raising a daughter alone, he belatedly remembered. "How long ago were you divorced?"

"Six months after Sh.e.l.ly was born-" She stopped abruptly. Sh.e.l.ly, of course, was not the baby born to her that day. "Three years ago,"Lynnamended.

"What happened?" None of his business, of course, but he found himself unexpectedly curious about her, not just Sh.e.l.ly.

"Oh, it was a mistake from the beginning," she said vaguely. "Having a baby didn't help. It wasn't his idea."

He made a sound and reached for the fresh mushrooms. "Jennifer wanted a baby so badly. She had a couple of miscarriages." Now why had he told her that? "When she got past four months with her pregnancy, she was so happy." His throat closed.

"And then she never knew..."Lynnpressed her lips together. "That must haunt you."

"You could say so." He cleared his throat. "I want you to understand why I need to be part of Sh.e.l.ly's life."

"I do," she said so quietly he just heard her.Lynnhad bowed her head and was staring down at the pattern she was tracing on the tile counter. Her face was colorless and vulnerable when she looked up.