The Doctor's Secret Baby. Teresa Southwick
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And in here, she thought, looking up at him. The view gave her no relief from the heat. It had been a while, but her body was still susceptible to him. Once upon a time his charm had snagged her heart, but the present vibe wasn’t particularly charming so she could only assume the man himself got to her. That was too depressing to think about. And this visit wasn’t about her.
Time to make long-overdue introductions.
She glanced at her daughter who was sucking on her index finger and staring uncertainly at the tall stranger. “Cal, this is Annie.”
He studied her intently for a long time. Em wasn’t aware of holding her breath, but let it out when he did the same.
“You didn’t mention that she looks like me,” he said, not taking his eyes from his daughter.
“Would you have believed me?”
“Probably not.” His gaze slid to hers and turned resentful. “My hair was that color when I was little. The eyes are like mine. Even this,” he said, reaching out a finger to gently touch the indentation in the little girl’s chin that was identical to his own.
Annie ducked away and buried her face in Em’s neck. “She’s a little shy.”
He nodded without saying anything and Em wished she could read his mind. Had he been hoping she’d lied? Or did the idea of having a child make him want to puff out his chest and buy a round in the pub?
“Do you want to hold her?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He held out his arms and took Annie from her.
Her only intention was to make up for lost father/daughter time and she wanted it to be perfect. She should have known better. Life had been throwing her curve balls as far back as she could remember. This was no different.
Annie squirmed when he tried to settle her on his forearm. Tiny hands pushed against that wide chest and attempted to twist out of his strong grasp. Then she took one look at his face, started crying hysterically and frantically held out her hands to Em for a rescue.
“She wants you.” His voice could freeze water on a Las Vegas sidewalk in July.
Em took back her baby and felt the little girl relax. Not so the unflappable E.R. doc who looked like someone had hacked his stethoscope in half. “Don’t take it personally, Cal. She just needs to get to know you.”
“And whose fault is it that she doesn’t?”
The cutting remark hit its mark and guilt flooded her yet again. When Em felt cornered, out came the scrappy teenaged kid who’d once survived on the streets. “Look, I already admitted screwing up and apologized for it. I won’t say I’m sorry again. Annie is like this with strangers, and frankly I think it’s a good thing.”
“It’s good that she doesn’t know her own father?” His eyes narrowed on her.
“Not exactly. I just meant that it’s not a bad thing for her to be wary of people she doesn’t know. Until she gets to know them, to separate the wheat from the chaff.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Frankly, I can’t afford to worry about how you feel.” That wasn’t to say she didn’t worry, but it wasn’t the best use of energy. “My priority is Annie.”
“Mine, too, now that I know about her.”
“So you really do believe she’s yours? Do you still want a DNA test?”
“Yeah.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Just to be sure.”
“You don’t have a lot of faith in your fellow human beings, do you?”
Before he could respond in the affirmative, the bell rang again. It startled the two adults, but also pulled Annie out of whimper mode.
“Excuse me.” Em peeked out and recognized the young girl. “I have to answer this.”
She opened the door and when Annie saw who was there she smiled and held out her arms.
“Hi, sugar.” The green-eyed, redheaded seventeen-year-old grinned then grabbed Annie and planted kisses on both chubby cheeks, making her laugh. “How’s this little girl?”
“Who wants to know?” Cal asked.
Em knew by the tone he was annoyed and had a pretty good idea why. If she’d been in his shoes it would tick her off that her child went easily to someone else and treated her like a serial killer. But that couldn’t be helped.
“Cal, this is Lucy Gates. Lucy, meet Dr. Cal Westen.”
The teen looked from one to the other, then at the child in her arms. “FOB?”
Cal frowned. “Friends of Bill?”
“Father of baby,” Emily translated.
Nodding, he studied Lucy. “And you are?”
“One of my girls,” Emily said, and knew from his skeptical expression that an explanation would be necessary. “This five-unit building was donated by Ginger Davis of The Nanny Network. With grants and donations, I run a program that mentors and houses teenage mothers. It’s called Helping Hands and assists young women who have nowhere else to go. They help each other raise their babies while getting an education. Children can’t be taken care of if their mothers can’t take care of themselves.”
Cal slid his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans. “You don’t look old enough to have a baby,”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t,” Lucy snapped back. She studied him warily. “My son’s name is Oscar.”
“I see.”
“Right.” The teen made a scoffing noise. “You don’t have a clue. Just like my folks.”
This wasn’t going at all well, Em thought. “Lucy, he’s just—”
“Judging,” she snapped. “Like everyone else.”
“How did your parents judge?” he asked.
Lucy’s expression was a combination of hostility and hurt that she tried desperately to hide. “They threw me out when I got pregnant. Didn’t want anything to do with a grandchild. Doesn’t get more harsh than that.”
“She and Oscar had nowhere to go,” Emily explained.
The girl reminded her of herself all those years ago. When her mother gave her the ultimatum to give up her baby or get out. So, she got out. At first. But after weeks on the street, she knew she loved her child too much to subject it to that kind of life and went home, forced to make a horrible choice. Now she was trying to help young girls who were facing the same choice and give them another option.
But it was time to change the tone of this meeting. “Cal is a pediatrician,” she explained to the teen.
“So you take care of kids?” Lucy asked.
“I handle pediatric emergencies at Mercy Medical Center,” he said.
“So you don’t do well-baby stuff? Shots and all that?”
“You need a regular pediatrician for ‘stuff.’”
“So what good are you?” Lucy asked.
“If your baby has head trauma or a high fever, I’m your guy. Not so much the long-term care.”
Em had never thought about it before, but even his choice of medical specialty highlighted an aversion to commitment. That didn’t matter for her. Not anymore. But she wouldn’t let anyone hurt her daughter. As long as Cal could commit to Annie she had no beef with him.
“Where’s Oscar?” Em asked.
“With Patty.”
“That’s her roommate,” Em