The Would-Be Mommy Page 2

  A sudden stir caught his attention. Willa Lightner, the middle-aged PR assistant who’d been distributing press kits earlier, had entered from the hall and was excusing her way up the center aisle toward Jennifer. The two met, conferred and hurried out together.

  Something was up. Might be nothing more than a knocked-over punch bowl, but, his curiosity aroused, Ian strode in their wake.

  He trailed them around a bend and into an alcove where half a dozen people had gathered. It took a moment to identify the object of their interest.

  A young woman stood with her back against the wall, her arms encircling a blanket-wrapped bundle. Loose brown hair cascaded around a face in which determination warred with fear. In contrast to the moms-to-be Ian had seen earlier, she wore a threadbare smock and flip-flops. Definitely not part of the hospital’s show and tell program.

  He took out his notebook and looked around. Pierre was headed his way. Excellent.

  In front of him, Jennifer parted the small group of onlookers. “Hi. I’m the public relations director. Can I help you?”

  The young woman thrust the bundle into her arms. “I know who you are, Mrs. Serra. I just saw you on the Internet.” Her voice trembled. “You said you love babies and you’d give them a home. Well, I want you to adopt mine.”

  For a thunderstruck moment, nobody moved. Except Ian, who made quick notes on his pad.

  He’d found his story at last.

  Chapter Two

  Landing this job at Safe Harbor six months ago had been an excellent career move for Jennifer and a major salary increase over her last position. So what if the constant presence of pregnant women reminded her of the baby she’d lost, the one she’d never dared tell anyone about?

  Setting up Safe Harbor’s official opening, arranging the displays of baby photos and the raffle of baby goods, had squeezed her spirits again and again. But she’d grown used to it. Toughened up.

  Or so she’d thought until that Flash News/Global reporter threw her a curveball. Do you have children? Not an unusual question—people often asked it innocently enough—but something about his half-teasing expression had taken her unawares.

  Well, she’d just been caught off guard again, by a tiny infant swaddled in pink. And by the sight of the young mother with red-rimmed eyes and a cracked lower lip. That might have been me, a dozen years ago. Except that Jennifer’s baby hadn’t survived long enough to be born.

  When the mother thrust the bundle at her, Jennifer’s arms closed around it instinctively. The scent of talcum powder burst into her brain, and the subtle snuggling as the tiny girl adjusted to her grasp sent tremors through her nervous system. She could hardly tear her gaze from the angelic blue eyes and bow-shaped mouth.

  For a moment, Jennifer couldn’t speak. It didn’t matter, because the young woman was talking again.

  “Her name’s Rosalie. I can’t keep her. I want you to be her mother now.” Tearfully, the mother edged away.

  “Wait. What’s your name?” Jennifer blurted.

  “Sunny.” Another move toward the exit.

  “You can’t leave yet.” Anxiously, Jennifer noticed the reporter, Ian, closing in, along with his cameraman and a news team from a local TV station.

  “I have to go.” Sunny shielded her face protectively and, to their credit, the camera operators focused on the baby instead.

  With relief, Jennifer saw a familiar face emerge from the crowd and approach the young mother. “Hi. I’m the hospital’s staff attorney,” Tony Franco told Sunny gently. “I need you to sign papers to release her. We just have to make sure she really belongs to you and to get a little medical background. Can you come with me?”

  “I’ll wait here.” Sunny folded her arms, clearly unwilling to go anywhere with anyone.

  Tony appeared to debate with himself, but he had little choice. “Okay, I’ll go grab the forms. Two minutes, I promise.” He headed off at a lope.

  Still averting her face from the press, Sunny peered desperately at Jennifer. “You’ll take her yourself, right?”

  She had to be sensible. “We’ll find a home for her.”

  “Not just any home!” Panic edged the young woman’s voice. “You said on the Internet that you’d raise her.”

  Jennifer was sure she hadn’t quite said that. But she’d learned in public relations that people often misinterpreted what they heard according to their own needs. “I doubt county Social Services will allow it. But there are lots of loving parents waiting.”

  Sunny touched Jennifer’s sleeve. “Please. I’d feel so much better if I knew she was with you.”

  As if on cue, Rosalie let out a contented sigh that cut right through Jennifer’s resistance. If only…

  Still, there were rules about adoptions, and taking in a newborn would be an incredible responsibility. More than that, Jennifer wasn’t even remotely prepared emotionally. To give her heart, only to risk losing the baby again if the authorities decreed otherwise…“I’ll make sure she finds the right family. That’s the best I can do.”

  Sunny appeared to be wavering, on the point of giving in. Good. She had to see reason.

  Then Ian Martin addressed Jennifer. “Poor kid. She’s already being abandoned once. Don’t tell me you’re going to abandon her again.”

  If she hadn’t had her arms full, Jennifer would have been tempted to punch him. What did a shallow reporter—who’d probably been hired mainly for his dark blond good looks—know about raising a child, anyway?

  “No one’s abandoning anyone,” she replied fiercely.

  “What do you call it when you hand that little cutie over to a social worker?” He quirked an eyebrow, obviously enjoying the situation.

  “You’re out of line,” Jennifer told him. “This isn’t a game, Mr. Martin. There are real people’s futures at stake here.”

  He blinked as if she’d slapped him. Slapped him awake from his self-absorption for a second, anyway. She had no doubt he’d slip right into it again soon, but with luck, by then he’d be haring after some other hapless target.

  Dr. Rayburn joined the group, his forehead creased with concern. Beside him, Chandra Yashimoto stared disapprovingly at the scene.

  Painfully aware of the cameras trained on them, Jennifer realized she had to handle the situation before it turned into a media circus. “This is a private matter and we’d appreciate your respecting that,” she told the press.

  No one stirred. Chandra cleared her throat, obviously expecting the PR director to take further action.

  Oh, for a distraction. The raffle! “Over the past few months we’ve sold enough tickets to collect roughly ten thousand dollars for charity,” Jennifer informed the crowd. “If you’ll follow my assistant, Mrs. Lightner, to the baby furnishings display, she’s going to draw the name of the winner. Afterward, I’ll be happy to take everyone on a tour of our facilities.”

  Willa waved one hand eagerly. “This way, everybody! You shouldn’t miss this.” She linked arms with the startled Ian and tugged him forward. “Since you’re clearly devoted to children’s welfare, Mr. Martin, I’m sure you’ll tell the world about the winner and all the money we raised.” She drew him and the other observers away with a combination of briskness and persuasion. You could tell she was the parent of teenagers, Jennifer mused.

  When they were gone, she turned to Dr. Rayburn. “I’m sorry for letting things get out of hand.”

  “Not your fault,” he said.

  Ms. Yashimoto scowled. “This is awkward.”

  “Who’re you?” demanded Sunny, who’d taken refuge behind Dr. Rayburn. “Don’t let her take my baby. She looks like she eats them for breakfast.”

  Biting down on a smile, Jennifer made introductions. “I have two grandchildren,” Ms. Yashimoto informed the young mother. “For your information, I haven’t eaten either of them yet.”

  Sunny looked unconvinced.

  Tony returned with the paperwork and some news. He’d called the county child welfare agency and learned th
at, due to a staffing shortage, no one would be available to pick up the baby until Monday.

  “We could accommodate her in the nursery,” Dr. Rayburn suggested.

  A tear etched a path down Sunny’s cheek. “I can’t leave her alone. Who’ll hold her when she cries?”

  Jennifer couldn’t bear the thought, either. “I suppose I could take her for the weekend,” she said. “If you really want me to.”

  The young mom sniffled. “Thank you. You’ll fall in love with her. I know you will.”

  Jennifer brushed a kiss across the baby’s soft cheek. “And I’ll stay on top of things until she’s placed. I promise.”

  “Okay. I trust you.” Sunny snatched Tony’s pen and filled in the papers. She didn’t do a very thorough job, but apparently it passed muster with the attorney. “Have a nice life,” she whispered to her daughter. “Be good so the nice lady loves you.” Tears streaming, she rushed away.

  Jennifer longed to call after her and suggest she seek counseling. Too late. The young mom was gone.

  From the lobby, a burst of applause indicated the raffle winner had been announced. And Ms. Yashimoto’s glare brought home the point that Jennifer ought to be tending to her duties, not standing there holding a baby.

  “I’ll take the baby up to the nursery for an exam.” Nurse Lori Ross, who’d hung back during the incident, came to Jennifer’s side. A good friend, she was a welcome sight.

  “That would be wonderful. I’ll pick her up in about an hour,” Jennifer said gratefully.

  “I’ll arrange for diapers and formula, too,” Lori promised. “If you like, I could come over later and show you how to use them.”

  Jennifer chuckled. “I used to babysit. But thanks.”

  “See you later.” The nurse took the infant. Cool air rushed in where Rosalie had warmed Jennifer’s arms.

  “I’ll get you a loaner car seat,” Tony added.

  “Thanks.”

  “Absolutely,” said Ms. Yashimoto. “Think of the liability if they had an accident!” She cleared her throat. “And of course, we don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  As the others departed, Jennifer took a moment to settle her racing thoughts. Sunny’s pleading expression…that darling baby…How on earth could she have resisted?

  By using your common sense, that’s how.

  Babies didn’t stay babies. They grew into toddlers, and little girls, and then teenagers who required guidance and stability. They deserved two parents, or at least a mother who’d planned for them. Definitely not a mom who’d had an infant thrust into her arms because of a silly misunderstanding.

  But this was only for the weekend. That was all she’d promised, and all she could reasonably provide.

  Straightening her shoulders, Jennifer headed for the lobby. From the buzz of voices, she gathered that people were scattering, which meant she’d better hurry and round up those interested in a tour.

  Entering, she was pleased to see that Willa had cornered Ian. Keep that man busy. Just the sight of him frayed Jennifer’s temper.

  Usually, she didn’t let reporters bother her, but he was uncommonly pesky and smug. And too much like the daredevils she used to find irresistible, before she grew up the hard way.

  “Over here for the tour!” Jennifer called. “I promise, if anyone gets bored, I won’t be offended if you hop on the nearest elevator. But you won’t want to miss seeing our nurseries.”

  “More than one?” inquired a city councilwoman.

  “We have nurseries providing several levels of care, depending on babies’ needs,” Jennifer explained. “Also, did I mention there’s a helicopter pad on our roof?”

  “I’m hooked,” said a man she recognized as the police chief. “Count me in.”

  A cheerful group assembled. Jennifer was leading them to the main elevators when she spotted Ian’s cameraman, a trendy urban type with a shaved head and a tattoo peeking above his T-shirt, cutting across the lobby in their direction. Well, she could hardly object, since he was a member of the press.

  And here came Ian, his long legs making short work of the distance. What a striking contrast to his associate: stylishly cut hair, careless but expensive black jacket, and a tie loosened just enough to tempt a woman to give it a tug.

  Some other woman.

  In the elevator, Jennifer wished she weren’t keenly aware of Ian’s sophisticated aftershave. She must have noticed it before, subliminally, because she identified it with him instantly.

  “Congratulations,” the councilwoman told him.

  On what? Jennifer was about to ask when the doors opened on the third floor. She had to step out and shepherd everyone to the labor and delivery areas. From there, they proceeded to the nurseries.

  The hospital wasn’t full, thanks to the low profile it had maintained during renovations, but there were still plenty of babies visible through the nursery windows. As Jennifer detailed the state-of-the art equipment, a sense of calm replaced her earlier agitation.

  She knew her job. And she knew this hospital. Whatever curveballs Ian Martin decided to throw, she could field them.

  She didn’t have long to wait. A few minutes later, when she pointed out the on-call sleeping rooms for staff, Ian asked whether Safe Harbor doctors indulged in sexual shenanigans like the characters on TV doctor shows.

  “Absolutely not. That would be unprofessional,” Jennifer responded coolly.

  He grinned. Enjoyed provoking her, obviously. Well, his wire service didn’t often cover events in such a small town, so with luck she wouldn’t have to see him again.

  Continuing the tour, she showed off a gleaming lab, an operating room, a Wi-Fi-equipped patient lounge and some of the overnight facilities for families. Several visitors commented on the convenience of pharmacies on every floor and a cafeteria with an on-site chef from 6:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m.

  “Do they serve vegetarian food?” the councilwoman inquired.

  “Vegetarian and vegan,” Jennifer replied. “We offer a diabetic menu, as well.”

  After touring the rooftop helicopter pad, they returned to the lobby. Her small group disbanded, except for Ian.

  Just her luck.

  “Is there anything else you need?” For heaven’s sake, how much attention did this man expect when she was eager to get upstairs to Rosalie?

  “I was wondering where the baby will sleep tonight.” Penetrating blue eyes caught hers.

  Without the camera aimed at him, surely he didn’t plan any more lectures about abandonment. “At my place,” she said tightly.

  “In your bed?”

  Of all the nerve! “You’ve just overstepped your bounds, so I’ll say good-night.”

  “Wait!” He caught her elbow, sending an unwelcome flare of heat through Jennifer’s arm. “That came out wrong.”

  “Exactly what would have been the right way for it to come out?” She pulled her arm free.

  He cocked his well-shaped head—the man was attractive, and knew it—and indicated the baby furniture on the far side of the lobby. “Guess you missed the excitement. I’m the big winner.”

  Him? That explained the councilwoman’s congratulations, as well as his long conversation with Willa, Jennifer supposed. “If you’ll tell us where to deliver it, we’ll be happy to.”

  He watched her as if waiting for a punch line. “We can deliver it ourselves in Pierre’s van.”

  “Wonderful. If you’re donating it to charity, I’ll give you credit in our press release.” Now go away.

  “Guess I’m not making myself clear.”

  “There’s more?” She steeled herself to keep from backing away.

  “You really don’t like me, do you.” The words came out more rueful than offended.

  “It’s my job to be nice to you.” That was the most diplomacy she could manage at the moment.

  “You hate me that much, huh?”

  “I think you’re a…” Jennifer took a deep breath and slowly counted to three. “A reporter doing his job.
”

  “What I’ve been trying to say, rather clumsily, is that Pierre and I will haul the baby furniture over to your place. I’m assuming you don’t have a crib and a stroller and whatever else is in that lot.”

  A changing table, baby sheets, receiving blankets, a diaper stacker and plenty more… Jennifer could recite the inventory by heart, having arranged with the stores that had donated it. She conceded that she’d misjudged Ian’s intentions. “Thank you. I’m not sure I need all that for two days, though.”

  “Give it to charity when you’re finished,” he said.

  “You really don’t need to—”

  “How about letting me act like a nice guy for a change? I’d say I owe you a favor.”

  He certainly did. If it weren’t for him, Jennifer wouldn’t be in this bind. Still, she had been curt.

  “I’d appreciate borrowing the baby equipment,” she conceded. “But anything that happens after we leave the medical center is off the record. No videos, no quotes.”

  “Done.” He waved to Pierre. “How far do you live?”

  “Less than a mile.” Close enough to walk to work occasionally, although she didn’t see any reason to mention that. Despite Ian’s cooperative attitude, Jennifer still didn’t trust the man. She intended to tell him as little as possible.

  About anything.

  Chapter Three

  “I could video the outside of her building. A condo complex, she said?” Pierre mused as he piloted the van along a side street. “Maybe I’ll accidentally-on-purpose catch her carrying the baby inside.”

  Ian dragged his gaze off the compact car they were trailing, which from this height looked awfully fragile to protect a woman and a baby. “I gave my word.”

  “Ridiculous,” his companion muttered. “We’re newsmen, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Ever heard of being off duty?”

  “This from a man reputed to have taken a bullet in his shoulder in Baghdad, wrapped it in a scarf and finished his interview?”

  “Greatly exaggerated.” Or so he preferred for people to think.

  “If we aren’t working, what’re we doing here?” grumbled the cameraman.