His Secret Baby. Marie Ferrarella
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just wasn’t in her to argue with him. She knew he’d win. “I am tired,” she agreed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eve.”
It was a perfunctory remark. Right now, he really didn’t know if he was coming back, at least not in such a way where she could see him. And he did have work to attend to, both his actual job and what he did in order to maintain a cover for the outside world. There were times when his double life really got to be confusing. The less she knew, the better for everyone. He couldn’t jeopardize the mission, not even for her.
Besides, he was fairly sure the woman didn’t completely trust him. She would be better off if he stayed away as much as he could.
Bending over, he pressed a kiss to Eve’s forehead. “Get some sleep,” he instructed just before he started to walk away.
He was almost at the door when he heard her call his name.
“Adam?”
Turning around, he waited for her to continue. Did she have a lingering craving and want him to bring her back a pound of pistachios or some licorice? “Yes?”
“Stay with me. Just for a few minutes,” she added, anticipating being turned down. “I don’t want to be alone just yet.”
Was she having doubts about what she’d just let herself in for, becoming a mother? He heard that a lot of new mothers suddenly worried about that once the euphoria wore away.
He retraced his steps to her bedside. “Sure.”
Pulling up a chair next to the bed, he swung it around and straddled it, then waited for Eve to drift off to sleep.
An ache woke her up. It shot through her entire body, from the very roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes. All except for two of her fingernails—one on each hand—and those felt numb because she’d clutched so fiercely at her comforter while pushing out her daughter.
Her daughter. She had a daughter? She had a daughter.
Her eyes flew open, the very act instantly divorcing her from the dream she’d been having.
She didn’t need to remember, she knew the dream by heart. It was the same dream that had invaded a third of her nights in the last eight months. A dream that echoed what she’d felt that one glorious night that she and Adam had made love.
Eve blew out a breath. She hadn’t had that dream for at least a couple of weeks now and had begun to nurse the hope that she was finally over it.
Finally over him.
Having Adam pop back into her life had brought the dream back in vivid living color—both the bad and the good.
Adam.
Last night’s events came rushing back to her, assaulting her brain and sending her system into high alert. She couldn’t let her guard down. Now that she knew what he was, she had to remain vigilant—at least, until she was sure that he’d changed.
If only …
As she remembered the last words that had passed between them, her eyes darted toward the chair where he’d sat down.
It was empty.
A sinking feeling set in and she railed against it. How lame could she have been, asking him to stay with her a little while longer? What in heaven’s name had gotten into her? Nothing had changed—and probably he hadn’t, either. She wanted Adam to go, not stay. So why had she suddenly felt so vulnerable? Why had she asked him to stay with her like a child who was afraid of the dark?
A noise came from the doorway and she glanced over, half hoping—Idiot!
A blonde nurse walked in. She looked as if she was about twenty-two. A young two-twenty at that. The nurse pushed a see-through bassinette before her.
“Someone here wants to see her mommy,” the nurse all but chirped cheerfully.
Eve squinted ever so slightly, reading the nurse’s name tag: Kathy.
As Kathy parked the bassinette at the foot of the bed, she scanned the room. “Your husband stepped out?” she asked.
It took Eve a second to make the connection. “He’s not my husband,” she corrected.
“Oh.” The response seemed to squelch the nurse’s enthusiasm, but just for the barest moment. And then the insuppressible cheerfulness returned. “Well, anyway, he seemed very devoted to you.” Picking the baby up, Kathy made a few soothing noises to the infant and then placed the tiny bundle into Eve’s arms.
Eve hated the fact that she was distracted even the slightest bit, but the nurse’s comment had aroused her curiosity. She patted the baby’s bottom as she asked, “What makes you say that?”
Kathy moved around the room, drawing back the curtains at the window, tucking the blanket in on one side. She seemed as if she needed to be in perpetual motion.
“Well, for one thing, he stayed here most of the night. He was sitting by your bed when I came on my shift this morning,” she added.
Eve saw only one reason for that. “He must’ve fallen asleep.”
But Kathy shook her head, a wistful smile curving the corners of her mouth. “Looked pretty wide-awake to me. Gail said he’d been there all night, just watching you sleep.”
“Gail?”
“The nurse who was on before me.” She smiled down into Brooklyn’s face. Wide-awake, the infant appeared to absorb her surroundings. “The baby looks like him,” Kathy commented. And then she raised her eyes quickly to look at her patient, as if she realized that she’d just tripped over her tongue. “He is the father, right?”
“Yes,” Eve said quietly, gazing at her daughter’s face. A face that had more in common with Adam than with her. “He’s the father.”
A shade under six feet with an almost painfully thin body, Danny Sederholm leaned indolently against the side of the cement steps of the renovated campus library. The renovation had been conducted, in part, thanks to his father and his uncle’s generous contributions. Both were former alumni of the prestigious college, as was his mother. It made coasting easier.
The student’s small, deep-set brown eyes unabashedly looked him over and took renewed assessment as he approached. Adam struggled to keep his contempt and loathing to himself.
“You look like hell. Something wrong?” Sederholm asked, trying to sound high-handed.
The marbles-for-brains twenty-two-year-old was leagues away from the kind of kid he’d been at that age, Adam thought. Circumstances had forced him to be a man early. Sederholm, he judged, would never be one no matter how old he was.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing I can’t handle,” he told the snide senior, his tone firmly closing the door on any further speculation regarding the situation.
“Do I look worried?” Sederholm challenged. “Hey, as long as it don’t interfere with ‘business,’” he emphasized the word haughtily, “I don’t care if you’re juggling flying monkeys.”
“‘As long as it “don’t” interfere?’” Adam knew he should let the comment slide, but bad grammar always got under his skin, especially when uttered by someone who gave himself airs. “How much did you say your father was paying for your education? Because whatever it is, it’s way too much.”
Sederholm’s face darkened. “Like I don’t have better things to do than go sit in a lousy auditorium with a bunch of competitive geeks.” He puffed up his chest. “I’m making more money now than my old man ever did at my age—or when he graduated.”
Adam knew exactly what tuition was