The Doctor's Secret Baby. Teresa Southwick

as he could carry and not compromise his hold on the little girl in his arms. Fortunately Em’s apartment was right around the corner from the parking lot and he followed her into the open front door. It was cool inside, a welcome relief from the July heat. The kitchen was just off the living room where Emily was half buried in the refrigerator hurriedly putting away cold and frozen food.

      “What should I do with her?” he shouted over the pitiful cries that hurt his ears and his heart simultaneously.

      She looked at him. “Put her on the floor.”

      Didn’t have to tell him twice. He set Annie down on her tush where she continued to sob as if he’d been sticking pins into her.

      “I’ll get the rest of the bags,” he said, and went to do that without waiting for permission. He was an E.R. doc and used to taking the initiative.

      When he’d grabbed the remaining groceries from the trunk and shut it, he hurried back to the apartment, just as Annie was crawling out the front door. He stepped over her and dropped the bags in the middle of the living room, then raced out the door to scoop her up. The loud wail was irrefutable evidence of her displeasure. As if he needed more proof that she hated his guts.

      Squirming and squealing, she continued her protest as he carried her to Em. “You’ve got a runner.”

      Em glanced over her shoulder. “Good. You got her. She tries to escape if you don’t shut the door.”

      He put Annie on the floor and did a slow burn while Emily finished putting away the groceries. Then she grabbed up the little girl and disappeared down the hall. Cal had no choice but to follow.

      He watched Em competently change the wriggling child’s diaper, something he should have known to do, but didn’t because he’d been left out of that particular loop. With the freshly diapered child in her arms, she went back into the kitchen and got a child’s cup with a lid, filled it with water and just a splash of apple juice. He was pretty sure it was called a sippy cup because he’d heard kids in the E.R. calling them that. On the floor surrounded by plastic toys and stuffed animals, Annie grabbed the cup from her mother and chugalugged, evidence that she was thirsty. Or she liked her cup. Or both. He didn’t know which and it ticked him off because he should know. He was her father.

      He watched Annie put her head down on a plump stuffed bear as sucking on the juice slowed. She blinked a couple of times before her eyelids drifted closed and her hold on the cup loosened. Her breathing grew slow and even.

      “She’s asleep,” he announced.

      “I know.” Em was washing apples at the sink.

      “How?”

      “It’s late afternoon and the heat wears her out.” She glanced past him and smiled tenderly. “But it’s getting close to dinner time so all she gets is a power nap.”

      “Why?”

      “If I let her sleep too long, there will be no getting her to bed at a decent hour tonight.”

      “Of course,” he snapped.

      Emily studied him. “What’s bugging you?”

      “Besides the fact that whenever I touch her my daughter screams as if I’m an ax murderer?”

      “Yeah, besides that.”

      “I don’t know anything about her and I’m her FOB.”

      “Think about it this way, Cal.” Emily shut off the water, then arranged the apples along with a big bunch of green grapes in a yellow pottery bowl. “Before Annie was born I didn’t know her, either. Now we’ve spent a little time together and I’ve learned about her. I do my best to make sure her needs are met so she trusts me to do that. All it takes is to put the time in. One day. Then another. And another. Until a pattern develops. If you’re up for it.”

      “Why wouldn’t I be?” he demanded.

      “You’re not a guy who gives patterns a chance to develop.”

      Not unhealthy patterns. He’d done that once and it was a disaster. “I’ve never had a kid before,” he said, not bothering to deny her words.

      “It takes time to build trust. And I get that’s not easy for you, although I don’t know why.” She held up her hands. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s probably on a need-to-know basis, and I don’t need to know.”

      She was right about that. No one needed to know that his ex gave him lesson after lesson on why women couldn’t and shouldn’t be trusted. Em reinforced it by keeping knowledge of his child from him. Patterns? Oh, yeah, bad ones. It’s why he didn’t do commitment.

      “Yeah, you don’t need to know,” he agreed. “And you’re right about spending time with her to build trust. How are we going to work that out?”

      “I’m not sure yet. But we will.”

      Looking around the apartment, he assessed his daughter’s environment. He recognized the light green corner group from Em’s other place and the cherrywood coffee table in front of it. There was a TV on a stand in the corner that was also familiar. Three wrought-iron barstools with beige seats lined up at the counter separating the kitchen and living room. They were new because her old place hadn’t had a bar. If he walked in her bedroom, would the floral comforter be there? More than once he’d swept it to the floor in his hurry to have her.

      His body tightened and he remembered that, too, the intensity of his need for her. It was different from the way he’d wanted any other woman. And he still felt it, which didn’t make him at all happy.

      “Do you need money?” he asked.

      “No.” The indignation in her expression was easy to read.

      “I don’t mean to offend you, but I have nine months of pregnancy, the birth and eleven months of Annie’s life that I owe you for.”

      “You don’t owe me anything,” she said, anger flashing briefly in her eyes “Money isn’t why I told you about her. I just wanted you to know she exists. In case anything happens to me.”

      The lump in her breast. He’d forgotten that what with the mess of finding out he was a father. She’d said she had an appointment.

      “I’ll go with you to see the doctor.” If she was lying about it this would call her bluff.

      “I can handle it.”

      “I’m not saying you can’t.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Just that you might need some help with Annie.”

      “That’s not a problem,” she protested. “I’m used to taking her with me.”

      “No offense, but she’s got a pretty good set of lungs. That could make actually hearing what the doc has to say difficult.”

      “I can leave her with Lucy—”

      “No.” Anger knotted in his gut. “Annie is my daughter. I can stay in the waiting room with her. Just a short-term assignment.”

      “Are you sure?” Em caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth.

      “Absolutely.” And he absolutely couldn’t look away from those small, straight white teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her mouth. It made him think about the rest of her flesh—the parts underneath her clothes. That made him want to get her naked, which was a very big problem.

      “Okay, then,” she agreed. “You can come with me.”

      “Good. It will go a long way toward establishing trust.”

      With his daughter, not with Emily. She’d burned him once and wouldn’t get another chance. After doing the deceit dance with his ex-wife, he knew that second chances were a slow slide to the dark side. Lori always had an ulterior motive for the suicide attempts that never succeeded. It kept him with her, at least until the next time he got fed up and threatened