Adopt-a-Dad

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE IMMIGRATION officials left soon after.

“We’re real sorry to have bothered you again,” the older man told them, while Charles made friends with Socks. “You can’t believe the pressure we’re dealing with over this one. Our report will recommend an end to the thing, and the pressure should stop. She’ll be able to insist on one last interview. In the case of a rushed marriage involving a green card, the usual follow-up is an interview to make sure everything’s in order, but now that the claim you’re living apart has been disproved, we’ll put that off until after the birth.”

Michael only had part of his mind on the conversation. He was watching Jenny, who was on the floor, Socks sprawled ecstatically over her knees. Lana was down there, too, with baby Greg gurgling on her lap. But Michael’s gaze rested solely on Jenny. She looked extraordinary.

In that moment, emotions stirred in Michael that he’d sworn he’d never feel again. And there were new emotions, too-ones he hadn’t even known he was capable of feeling. He knew right then and there that he welcomed them. He was falling in love, he thought, dazed. He was falling in love with his wife, and he was loving every minute of it.

“She really is very beautiful,” the older official said, watching Michael’s face with good-humored understanding.

“I…yes. I’m sorry.”

“There’s definitely no need to apologize, sir,” the man said, and beamed. “We see all sorts in this business, and it’s a pleasure to see a happy marriage. And I sure don’t blame you for looking at her. If I may say so, your wife’s not the sort of woman you’d want to take your eyes off for a minute.”

“No. I…” He forced his mind back to business. Or some of his mind-the part that wasn’t taken up with his stunning new discovery. “The interview?”

“It’s just a formality, as I said. A check that you know each other as well as most married couples do.” His beam widened. “It’s my guess that your knowledge might be deeper than most, so there’s nothing at all to worry about. We’ll contact you in a few weeks. All the very best for the baby’s arrival, and if her ladyship causes trouble, please let us know.” He shook Michael’s hand. “Charles!”

Charles rose reluctantly from the floor, where he’d been petting Socks.

“YOU KNOW,” Jenny said casually as Michael accompanied the immigration officials to the door, “I might just slip into something a touch more respectable.” She smiled at Megan. “Entertaining in my revolting old pajamas…”

“Hey, I like your pajamas,” Lana told her. “They could start a new fashion in comfortable maternity wear.” She grinned, but Megan shook her head. She rose from her chair, gave Jenny a hand up from the floor and propelled her toward her bedroom.

“Let’s give the girl back some dignity,” she told Lana. “Jenny, now’s your chance. You make a break for it, and we’ll cover your pajama-clad butt.”

TWO MINUTES later Michael walked into the kitchen after seeing the immigration officers off the premises, and found Jenny had gone. His sister and Megan wore identical goofy grins as they watched him enter. Michael stopped at the door and stared at the pair of them.

“What?” he demanded.

“What do you mean, what?” Lana asked innocently, and her eyes danced.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I have a huge joke written across my forehead.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lana declared. “Do you, Aunt Megan?”

“Who, me? No, dear. I can’t imagine. We’ve sent your Jenny to get dressed, Michael, dear.”

“She’s not my Jenny.”

“Oh, I think she is.” Megan reached down to fondle Socks’s ears. “Deny it all you like. It’ll work about as well as convincing me that Socks isn’t your dog.”

“That’s another thing,” Lana said carefully. “Where did Socks come from?” She fixed her bother with bright-eyed interest.

“Jenny found him,” he muttered.

“And brought him home. I see.”

“If you laugh, you’ll live to regret it,” he warned.

“Behold me terrified.” Lana gave little Greg a hug and held him at arm’s length. “Greg, honey, your big, bad uncle Michael just threatened me. Did you hear? Were you frightened? Nope?” She chuckled. “Me, neither.”

“Lana…”

“Yes?” She smiled sweetly at him, and he practically ground his teeth in frustration.

“Well,” Lana said, apparently satisfied with his response. “I hate to be the one to break up this cozy family get-together, but-”

“You’re leaving?” Michael asked hopefully.

“Not alone. I hope to have Jenny with me. When you asked me to find her something to wear for the wedding, I realized she had nothing organized at all.”

“I don’t think she wants more clothes.” Michael frowned. “Except pajamas. I’d agree she could use replacements. But she hardly needs more maternity clothes. The baby’s almost due.”

“That’s what I mean,” Lana said patiently. “Jenny looks like she’s due to drop her bundle any minute, and how many diapers do you have on hand, brother dearest?”

“Diapers?”

She sighed, as if she was addressing a bear of very little brain. “Yes, diapers, you dope. If you intend to raise a baby without diapers, we’ll see the end of this place as a classy neighborhood. Oh, and on the subject of baby gear…you told Gloria that you were painting the baby’s bedroom. Which bedroom exactly? And do you have a crib?”

“Crib?”

She sighed again. “Michael…”

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in defeat. “I’m not entirely nuts. I know what a crib is.” Then, as Jenny appeared in the doorway, demurely dressed in her plain secretarial maternity dress, he turned to her in relief. She’d brushed her curls from her face, and he could almost pretend she was back to being his secretary again-a role he could cope with emotionally. “Jen, do you have diapers? Do you have a crib?”

“Not yet.” She blinked and stared at the faces watching her. These people were practically too much to take in all at once. Her assorted family.

One husband. One sister-in-law with baby attached. One sort of aunt-in-law. One dumb but gorgeous dog.

She’d gone from rags to riches in the family stakes in one fell swoop, she thought suddenly, and it felt…stunning. There was affection on all their faces, and she felt tears sting her eyes.

But they were waiting for her answer.

“So when are you planning to get them?” Lana asked patiently.

“Sometime soon.”

“And this baby?” Lana probed. “He intends arriving sometime soon?”

“In three weeks.”

“He has a diary in there with his planned arrival time written in indelible ink?”

“First babies are never early,” Jenny said stoutly, and Lana chortled as Michael watched silently from the sidelines. He was doing his own thinking.

“Ha!” Lana scoffed. “I had a lady in my shop on Friday buying a romper suit for her baby, who was due tomorrow. He’s now seven weeks old.”

“I…”

“Jenny, you need to be organized, and I’m just the person to help you do it,” Lana said. “Organization is my specialty. Just ask Dylan. I organized him right into marriage. And Mike. I’ve been organizing him since he was three years old. So while I’m on a roll, I thought I’d take you back to my shop right now.” She smiled at Jenny’s bewildered look. “You know I own Oh, Baby!”

“Oh!” Jenny gasped. How many times had she slowed as she’d passed the baby shop, looking longingly in the window at all the delightful things for sale? “Of course. I’ve been past there. It’s lovely. But I can’t afford-”

She closed her eyes. Things were getting out of control. How could she tell them she intended to buy discount store clothes, and a crib and stroller secondhand?

“That’s irrelevant. I’m paying,” Michael announced, and her eyes opened again.

“No.”

“Yes!”

“Michael, no,” she said, distressed. “I can’t-”

“You can,” Megan said. She’d been watching Jenny’s face, saying nothing, but her intelligent mind had been assessing and coming to conclusions. She moved to take Jenny’s faltering hands in hers. “But you needn’t accept Michael’s help in this area, my dear, because this is what I’m going to do. You’re going to accept your baby needs as a combined gift from me and the staff at Maitland. This is our gift to you.”

Jenny took a step back, but Megan’s hands held fast. “Mrs. Maitland, I can’t!”

“You left work on Thursday without being given your farewell gifts,” Megan said sternly. “The staff had taken a collection for a baby shower. Ellie’s given me a check to add to it. She’s grateful for the change you brought to our security offices over the last five months and-” she gave Michael a sideways smile “-she’s grateful for the changes you brought about in our security chief. I’m equally grateful. Lana will dictate what you need, and-”

“Mrs. Maitland-”

“It’s Aunt Megan to you while you’re married to Michael,” she corrected sternly. “Jennifer, I assume you’d like your job back at Maitland Maternity one day?”

“I… Yes.”

“Then learn to accept gifts gracefully. I never got a chance to give the pair of you a wedding gift-”

“We’re not-”

“Married? Don’t talk nonsense. You’re more married than you think. So take this with my blessings. And, Michael?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Michael was just plain bemused.

“You were intending to go back to work after lunch?”

“Of course.”

“There’s no of course about it,” she said sternly. “You’re not welcome at work. You haven’t had a break for two years. I’m ordering you to take time off, starting today, and help Jenny get herself organized.”

“But-”

“You don’t think Jenny needs help?”

“I don’t,” Jenny interrupted, but Megan shook her head.

“There speaks a woman who doesn’t own so much as a diaper for a son who’s due to appear any minute. Lana, can you take this hopeless pair shopping?”

“I’d love to.” Lana was practically choking with laughter. “Dylan’s meeting me for lunch. Maybe we could all go out together. Make a day of it. I’ll bet we could even persuade Jenny to buy some new pajamas.”

“What’s wrong with my pajamas?” Jenny protested, and they all laughed. Suddenly Jenny was laughing with them. This was so easy. And the way Michael was looking at her…

She gazed at him, and her breath caught in her throat. There was affection there, and more…

“Maybe you could do with some pajamas with a proper cord,” Megan was saying as Jenny’s eyes met Michael’s and held. They hardly heard her. “But diapers first.”

There was nothing more to say.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Michael, his eyes still on Jenny’s, and it was all he could do to get the words out. “Whatever you say, Aunt Megan.”

WHAT FOLLOWED was an amazing few hours. Lana collected Dylan because she figured Michael might need some male support, but to Jenny’s astonishment, the men took over.

“Surely we don’t need all this stuff,” she said helplessly as a miniature baseball league sweater landed on top of a pile of baby gear a mile high.

“You were maybe considering teaching your son cricket?” Michael teased. “You have a green card now, Mrs. Lord. This baby grows up playing American sports.”

“Then we need a baseball bat,” Dylan said decisively, and swooped off to the other side of the store to find one. “Like Greg has.”

“No!”

Michael lifted the bat Dylan found and inspected it with approval, ignoring Jenny’s protest. “This is more like it. Do you have a ball, Lana? Let’s try this out for size.”

While Jenny watched helplessly, and Lana made piles of diapers and undershirts and sleepers, Dylan and Michael set up an impromptu baseball game in the crowded store. Luckily it was a foam ball. Customers came and went, eyeing the pair with amusement, but Dylan and Michael carried right on.

“It’s good advertising, Lana,” Michael told his sister. “Bet you sell a ton of these today.” And she did. By the time hunger hit, Lana didn’t have a miniature bat left in stock.

Then, with the guys still in charge, they carried the sleeping Greg to the car and ended up in Shelby’s diner for lunch-where the baseball game started up again. A few stunned residents and nurses from the clinic were promptly organized into teams, and the foam ball flew from booth to booth.

“You’re all nuts,” Shelby told them. “Get out of here.”

Michael gave his sister a hug and turned to watch his wife take the bat. “Sorry, Shelby. We seem to have turned this place on its ear.”

“Jenny seems to have turned you on your ear,” Shelby said softly, and hugged him back. “I was wrong to be worried. She’s special, Mike.”

“She… It’s only for a bit.”

“It can be for as long as you like, as far as I’m concerned,” she told him gently. “If she makes my brother look like this.”

After lunch, Lana and Dylan headed back to Lana’s store with Greg, and Shelby disappeared into the kitchen. Michael and Jen were left with the afternoon in front of them.

“It’s only three,” Michael said. He frowned. He wasn’t used to spare time.

“Socks will need a walk. You must have things to do. If you drop me off at home, then I’ll take him.”

“Take him by yourself? You should put your feet up.”

“I don’t want to.” Jenny flashed him a shy smile. “To be honest, I’ve had so much fun, I don’t want it to end.”

And neither did he.

So they drove home, unpacked their packages, held up each item for Socks’s approval-the only thing Socks was interested in was the foam ball-and then rigged up a leash and took their dog to the river.

It was another gorgeous autumn afternoon. Socks greeted it with joy, but Jenny found the warm sun made her sleepy. She was tired. Michael had found an ordinary tennis ball and was throwing it for Socks, and after the tenth throw she sank onto a park bench and watched her husband and her dog wear themselves out.

She felt at peace with the world. Gloria was gone, and she was safe now. Whatever she had to face in the future, Michael would be there with her.

She was where she wanted to be.

And she slept.

“THAT’S IT, you stupid mutt. That’s one hundred and twenty-three runs-more than enough for any self-respecting dog. Home!” Michael caught Socks to him, attached the leash to his collar and turned-to find his wife soundly asleep on the park bench.

Jenny.

He stood for a long moment looking at her. She was still wearing that awful secretarial smock, and although this morning he’d found it reassuring, fitting her into the role he knew, suddenly he hated it. She was quite extraordinarily beautiful, and he no longer wanted to think of her as his secretary.

The warm breeze was wisping the curls from her face, and her skin was still pale. She was wearing no makeup. Her lips were soft and full, and her lashes were long and luxurious.

Socks, head on one side, looked questioningly at his mistress. He put one dusty paw onto Jenny’s knee, but she didn’t stir, and suddenly it was too much for Michael. It would be too much for any man, he thought, and this was his wife. The woman he wanted more than anything in the world.

As if compelled, he bent and kissed her full on the lips, kissed her with a tenderness he didn’t know he possessed.

His Jenny. His wife.

As his mouth found hers, Jenny’s eyelids slowly opened, and she saw his face before her. Like part of herself.

And somehow, still half asleep, she wasn’t surprised. This was an extension of a lovely dream. She’d expected that Michael’s mouth would be on hers, and she’d known that this feeling would be so immeasurably sweet she couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t resist.

“Michael,” she murmured, and her hands rose just a fraction. She didn’t pull away, but she stirred, and her eyes smiled into his.

It was enough. He needed no other urging. His Jenny.

With a joyous groan he knelt and gathered her to him, and then he kissed her properly, as a man should kiss his wife. He kissed her with a fierceness born of passion. Born of need.

His lips were against hers, and her mouth was softly opening, welcoming, wanting him with an urgency that matched his. Dear heaven, she was so sweet. So lovely. She was so incredibly desirable that it was as much as he could do to breathe. His hands felt the roundness of her belly, and her breasts yielded to his chest, soft, compliant.

Jenny.

And still the kiss held. Her hands were on his face, holding him, deepening the kiss with a possessiveness that told him her hunger and her need were as great as his. The kiss went on and on, while they sat motionless under the cloudless sky.

But at last it came to an end. Two small boys came tearing along the path and skidded to a halt at the sight of them-and then burst into teasing laughter.

“Aw, mushy…”

“Kissy, kissy!”

One of the boys pursed his lips and made a kissing sound. Jenny and Michael broke apart in laughing confusion, while Socks barked his disapproval of this intrusion.

“Clear out of here,” Michael ordered the boys, but there was laughter in his eyes. His heart had no room for anger right now. His arms were firmly around Jenny’s waist, and there was no way he was letting go. “Can’t a man kiss his wife?”

“Kissing makes babies,” one small scamp offered, and the other boy hooted with scorn.

“Stupid, they’ve already made a baby. She’s as pregnant as my mom was when she had Sarah. I’ll bet she’s about to bust at any minute.”

“Then what do they want to kiss for?”

Sarah’s older brother was unable to find an answer for such a tricky biological question. “Yuck! How would I know?” He giggled, threw Jenny and Michael a scornful glance and raced away with his buddy.

What do they want to kiss for?

Their words lingered, funny, yet profound. What did they want to kiss for? Jenny looked deep into Michael’s eyes and she knew exactly why.

Peter! No!

The stab of memory caught her by surprise. Why was she doing this? What promises was she breaking now? She took a deep breath and pushed away. “Michael, I don’t want…”

“Me to kiss you?” He smiled at the distress in her face. “Honest? I very much want to kiss you.”

“I can’t.”

“Jen…” He rose from his kneeling position and sat on the bench beside her, taking her hands between his. All of a sudden her fingers felt cold, and he frowned. “It’s too soon, isn’t it? Because of Peter.”

“I…” She shook her head. How to make him see the impossible? “He’s only been dead seven months,” she said miserably.

“I understand.”

“No.” She pulled her hands away, pushed her curls out of her eyes and stared bleakly at the river. “I don’t think you do.”

“So tell me,” he said softly. Her eyes flew to his.

“You don’t-you can’t-this has nothing to do with you. I thought you never intended to get near anyone again.”

“I’m doing it for the dog,” he said promptly, and his answer was so pat she frowned in confusion.

“The dog?”

Lightness was needed here. He was thinking fast. Anything to take the panic from her eyes.

“Every orphan needs two parents,” he explained soulfully. “I ought to know that. Your baby needs two parents, so I offered, thinking we could get into the domesticity bit later. But now we have Socks, and the need is urgent. We need to indulge in domesticity right now, or Socks risks a deeply disturbed adolescence.”

“And domesticity means kissing?”

“Definitely!”

“You know, Socks might not be the most stable adolescent to work on,” Jenny said cautiously, trying for laughter, and Michael shook his head in disbelief and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Shh. You’ll give the dog a complex. Let’s just go back to playing doting parents. Do what doting parents do.” He smiled at her-that heart-stopping smile that had her insides doing back flips-and tried to draw her into his arms. But she somehow managed to pull away.

“No.”

“Then tell me why.” His smile died again. Okay. Maybe humor wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe honesty was the best bet. “There’s all sorts of electricity between us, Jenny, and I don’t understand it one bit. It’s caught me by surprise, but my instinct here is to go with it. To see where it leads.”

“To see if we can fall in love, you mean?” she asked cautiously, and he nodded.

“I guess that’s what I do mean.” He caught his breath, overwhelmed by what he was about to say. “Maybe…maybe it’s already happened.”

“You’re saying you love me?” Her eyes widened in incredulity. “After four days?”

“Hey, I’ve known you for over five months. Every weekday for five months.”

Her jaw dropped. “Yeah, right. And you spent all that time treating me like I was part of the furniture.”

“I didn’t.”

“Every morning I had the same thing for morning break,” she said with asperity. “What was it?”

“Huh?”

“Ha! I told you you didn’t notice!”

“How would I know if you had tea or coffee. Does it matter?”

“I had chocolate milk,” she said with dignity. “Straight out of the carton.”

“Jen…”

“No.” Despite her attempt at lightness, the distress was still in her voice. “No way. It’s true you’ve only just noticed me. There’s no way I’m letting you commit here, Michael Lord.”

Let him commit? Let him commit?

“Hell, woman, I want to commit,” he roared. “Damn it, I’ve spent most of my life running scared of commitment. Now I’ve decided I want to go the whole nine yards, and you say you don’t? But I can feel you do!” He made a grab for her again, but she drew back and rose from the bench.

“No!” This time there was no laughter at all. There was fear.

He saw it, and his indignation died at once. He didn’t follow, just stayed sitting, watching her.

“Tell me, Jen,” he said softly. “What’s bothering you? What are you fearful of? Me?”

“No.” She hesitated. Maybe he had to know. She had to explain it to herself.

“Peter married me fast,” she said.

“How fast?” He didn’t make a move. He had the impression that if he did, she would retreat into silence. “Sit, Jen. And tell me.”

There was a long, drawn-out silence, and then, slowly, she sat and started speaking. And when she did, her voice sounded as if it came from a long way away.

“We met one fabulous weekend at the home of mutual friends,” she said. “Or rather, they weren’t really mutual friends. Henry and Kate were friends of mine, and Peter knew Henry from university. Henry had gone home to Peter’s for the weekend while they were undergraduates, and Gloria had pink fits because Henry’s mother worked as a char, and Henry was a scholarship student.”

“Gloria disapproves of the unmoneyed?”

“Absolutely. So Henry became a bone of contention between them. Whenever Peter wanted to infuriate his mother, he’d extend his friendship with Henry. When Peter had a fight with his mother, he took off to visit Henry. He even told her that. He was off to stay with his unsuitable friends.”

“Oh, great.”

“Of course, I never knew that till later,” Jenny said, her voice bleak. “All I knew was that Henry’s friend was drop-dead gorgeous, and he swept me off my naive nineteen-year-old feet. We were married before I could blink-before I found out that he was marrying me so he could marry a totally unsuitable woman to get at his mother.”

“He must have been nuts.”

“He was very mixed up,” Jen said sadly. “I’m not saying he wasn’t attracted to me. Like me and you, there was this…thing.”

“Like me and you?” He paused, hating the comparison. “So it’s the same?”

“I don’t know.” She flushed and looked at him. “No. It’s not. At least I don’t think so. With you I feel-” She broke off as he moved fractionally toward her, and her hands came out as if to fend him off. “No. I don’t know what I feel. But I do know that I’m rushing into no commitment here. You married me as a kindness, and there’s no way I’m taking it further. I’ve had one man already who was stuck with me.”

“Is that what Peter was?”

“Oh, yes. Honorably stuck, but stuck all the same,” she said bitterly. “He was a mix…half his father, whom I gather he admired because he had such a stiff upper lip and was all honor-he died some time ago-and half his mother, whom you’ve seen. And a bit of rebellion, which made him seem vulnerable. He just didn’t know where he fitted in. But he made me promise…” Her voice died away.

“He made you promise what?”

Her chin tilted, trying to make him see. Trying to make him understand a little.

“He regretted it, you see,” she said, faltering as she fought for the right words. “He tried to break free of his aristocratic bonds, and it didn’t work. So when he was dying, he made me promise to raise our child as he ought to be raised-as the next earl.”

Michael’s brows creased. “And you made that promise?”

“Peter was dying,” she said miserably. “And I still loved him-sort of. I’d grown, but he hadn’t. By the time he died it was more a maternal sort of love. I knew why he hurt me-why he acted like he did-but there was nothing he could do to change it. He was desperately injured. I was grief-stricken, in the early stages of pregnancy, alone in a strange country, and I was in shock. I’d have promised him anything if it would ease his distress.”

“But you didn’t mean it?”

“At the time, I did,” she told him bleakly. “I guess I thought I could do what he wanted-go home to England, live on the estate and become the next earl’s mother. There didn’t seem any choice. It was only after Peter’s death, when Gloria started laying down the rules, that I saw clearly what was involved. Or rather, that I wouldn’t be involved at all. I’d be welcome to have access visits as long as I didn’t take my son off the estate. I’d have a generous allowance as long as I gave my son none of my commoner ideals.”

“The woman’s an autocratic dragon! There’s no way you can do things her way.”

“Yeah, but I promised.”

“Jen, it’s unreasonable.”

“I know that.” A hint of defiance returned. “That’s why I’m still here. But it doesn’t make it one bit better. It’s like I can’t bury Peter in my mind. He’s hanging over me, like a sad ghost, reminding me that I’ve betrayed his last wish. And I can’t get on with anything.”

“You mean you can’t love me?”

She met his eyes. “Michael, I do love you,” she said softly. “You are the kindest, most generous person that I know. But I still feel that I’m married. As if part of me is still tied to Peter and will be forever, and in some stupid way it’s tied to that broken promise. Thank you for trying, Michael, but for now…let’s just leave it as it is. I need to come to terms with what I’ve done in my own way. For me, marriage-a proper marriage, with hearts involved, not the one we’ve made to keep me in the States-seems like one last betrayal.”

“When you kissed me then, it was because you wanted…”

“Because I wanted you,” she whispered, the faintest tremor behind her words betraying her turmoil. “But then, I’ve always wanted what I can’t have. Love.”

“Let me love you.” His voice was urgent-insistent-but she moved away.

“No. You mustn’t. Because betraying Peter again would drive me to the wall.”