Baby, I'm Yours. Karen Templeton

a pair of badass sunglasses. Julianne reminded herself she’d never been a big fan of badass. “I passed you on the way,” Kevin said, in a voice deeper, and far more resolute, than she remembered. “You didn’t notice?”

      Julianne shook her head, releasing the stomach-knotting signals. Amazing, the difference a measly eight hours makes, she thought, halting in front of him, vaguely noting that the jeans were a huge improvement over the khakis. Because somewhere between then and now, the scraps of leftover boy still clinging to him that morning had slunk off into the sunset, leaving this…this badass.

      “What…” She swallowed, started over in a more normal voice. “What are you doing here?”

      “I said I’d be back.” He removed his sunglasses, briefly met her gaze, then crouched in front of the stroller, his smile for his daughter absolutely heartbreaking. “So I’m back,” he said in a voice as silky smooth as baby powder, setting off a fine trembling throughout Julianne’s entire body that she could have gladly done without, thank youvery much.

      Oh, hell. He was making her nervous. Which, he supposed, was the whole point to gaining the upper hand. Except, dammit, it was like scaring a whippet.

      She’d led him through the house, out onto the covered patio. Flowers everywhere. Kick-ass trees. Lots of grass. Not a cactus or yucca in sight. Fair-size pool. Largish shedlike building in a far corner, a workshop, maybe.

      “Have you eaten?” she asked, unstrapping the baby from her stroller.

      Kevin turned, his gaze glancing off a straight ponytail, straight back, straight, shapeless sundress. Which probably wouldn’t be shapeless if she’d eat something. Fill it out a bit. Yes, he knew some women were naturally skinny, but somehow he didn’t think that was the case here. And what was with the gracious-hostess routine?

      “I did, actually. After the meeting.”

      “The meeting…? Oh.” She turned. “The meeting. Gotcha.”

      He almost smiled. “Yeah,” he said, eyeing his daughter, contentedly gnawing her fist in Julianne’s arms. He’d needed the extra boost, even after talking to his parents. Up until two minutes ago, he’d planned on telling Julianne and Victor right up front what his intention was. Partly so they wouldn’t have time to react, partly before he lost his nerve. Now, however, he was thinking maybe the balls-out approach might not be the best way to go. That maybe it wouldn’t hurt to sell the idea, little by little. “I just go to meetings when the mood strikes. But the ones who make it usually keep it up for the rest of their lives. You mind if I hold her?”

      After a momentary startled look, Julianne’s mouth twisted, like she was annoyed with herself. “Not at all,” she said, her sandals slapping against the flat stones as she crossed to him, did the transfer. Pippa never noticed, far more interested in her knuckles than who was holding her. Julianne stepped back, arms crossed. Keeping an eye on him. “Maybe you should sit.”

      “I’m not gonna drop her, for cryin’ out loud.”

      “Still,” she said, eyes round with worry behind her glasses. Kevin sat. “What goes on at the meetings?” she asked. Still standing.

      “Didn’t Robyn tell you?”

      “We had her in a private clinic. And if it hadn’t been for the mandatory family group sessions, we would have known next to nothing. And besides, as I said…my sister wasn’t interested in sharing.”

      “Sharing is the key word, actually,” Kevin said, turning the baby to face him. “People share their stories. Their personal hells.” Man, was this a strong kid or what, her head not even wobbling on that little linebacker neck. What he could see of the neck for the chins, he thought, grinning. Petrified. Still gumming her fist, shiny with baby spit, Pip grinned back; Kevin’s heart did a triple forward somersault. “And their triumphs,” he said quietly. “Even the littlest ones count. When you’re climbing up from rock bottom, every step back up is a biggie.”

      After a moment Julianne eased over to perch on the end of a chaise across from him, her arms still tucked against her ribs, knees pressed tightly together, eyes fastened on the baby. She almost seemed to be shrinking into herself, like she was trying to become invisible. Panting, the Lab plodded over to sit heavily on one hip at her knees. One slender hand reached out to stroke the space between his ears, and Kevin thought, Screw working up to this. But before he could open his mouth, she said, “You’re taking her, aren’t you?”

      He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Yeah.”

      “When?” she whispered.

      “I promised this upholsterer friend of mine I’d help him out of a bind, so probably not for at least a week.”

      “A week? How can you possibly make arrangements to take care of a baby in a week? This morning you said—”

      “I know what I said this morning,” Kevin said, finally looking at her. “But since then I’ve talked to my folks. I can live with them indefinitely. They’ve got tons of room, Ma’s agreed to take care of Pip while I look for work—”

      “With them? In Massachusetts?”

      “It’s where my family is. Like I said, we’re close. Pip’d have a million cousins to play with—”

      “So, what are you saying? Quantity trumps quality? That because it’s just the two of us, Dad and I don’t count?”

      Aw, man—those eyes were killers. “Of course I’m not sayin’ that. But I’m Pip’s father. She belongs with me. And I’m gonna be honest with you, I have a far better chance of makin’ it work back home, where I’ve got connections and a place to live, than I ever would here.”

      “Living with your parents?”

      “What’s wrong with that? It’s working for you, isn’t it?”

      Her face went bright red. A second later she bolted from her seat and back toward the house. Muttering an obscenity, Kevin took off after her, cupping the baby’s head as he followed her through the French doors into the living room. “Julianne! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

      She whirled around, as though realizing she’d left the baby with him. “You have no idea,” she said, trembling, “what it’s been like for us. For me. Dad and I were just piecing together the scraps, trying to make a real family for Pippa! What’s so awful about that?”

      “Nothing! But my finding out about Pippa changes everything. I mean, you had to know, when you told me, what would happen!”

      “Julie?” her father said, hobbling into the room. Julianne flew to him, crumpling against his chest. Wrapping one arm around his daughter, Victor glared at Kevin over the top of her head. “What the hell’s going on?”

      “I’ve decided to take Pip back with me to Massachusetts, Mr. Booth,” Kevin said quietly. “In about a week.”

      Victor’s deep blue gaze lanced Kevin’s. “Before we get DNA verification that she’s really yours? Over my dead body.”

      Okay, so maybe he’d been wrong about the Julianne-beinghis-biggest-obstacle thing. Not that Kevin was about to back down, but at least he now knew where to focus his fire. “So we’ll do the spit test,” he said, jiggling the baby when she began to whimper. “But as soon as we know—” he forced down the grapefruit at the base of his throat “—she’s mine.”

      A still-shaky—and, Kevin was guessing, somewhat sheepish—Julianne extricated herself from her father’s arms. “Are you all right?” Victor murmured, worried, one hand on her shoulder. She nodded, shoving tears off her cheeks, and nausea walloped Kevin all over again.

      “It’s Pippa’s bedtime,” she said, fixing Kevin with watery eyes, her expression a weird mix of sympathy, resignation and an anguish so deep Kevin’s heart squeezed in response. “Besides, the tension’s not good for her.”