Who's The Daddy?. Judy Christenberry

was her mother.

      The man who claimed to be her father turned to stare at the woman. “What are you talking about, Amelia?”

      Amelia? Her mother’s name was Amelia?

      “I should never have asked Caroline to work in the unwed mother’s home. It’s my fault.”

      “Amelia, pregnancy isn’t contagious, either!” the man ranted, his face turning red.

      Caroline almost felt sorry for him. He seemed surrounded by some very strange people.

      Dr. Johansen spoke again. “I apologize. I didn’t realize you didn’t know about the pregnancy. Of course, she’s only two months along, but usually—”

      “Two months?” Mr. Blue Jeans asked sharply.

      “Yes, but—”

      “I demand to know who the father is,” the older man suddenly exclaimed, glaring at everyone in the room. In that tone of voice, Caroline was sure he was always obeyed.

      She was right.

      Three men stepped forward, each of them staring at her, and, in unison, as if rehearsed, said, “I am.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      SHE WAS SLEEPING with three men? At the same time? What kind of woman was she?

      Caroline stared at each of those who’d claimed parentage to her child. No flicker of recognition arose. She was debating what her response should be when everyone else in the room spoke for her.

      “I don’t understand,” Amelia said, a puzzled look on her brow.

      “Well, I do! Caroline, how disgusting,” her sister said, staring down her nose at Caroline.

      “That’s impossible!” James Adkins roared. “You couldn’t be the father of her child!”

      Caroline frowned as she realized her father was only speaking to the odd man out, the one in blue jeans. Her father didn’t have a problem with the other two men claiming to be the father of her child? What qualified them? The fact that they were wearing suits?

      After directing a glare at her father, the man turned to look at Caroline. She found herself swallowed up by his burning gaze.

      “Oh, yes, I certainly could,” he said, with no doubt in his voice.

      If it were a matter of attraction, she’d accept his word, hands down, she realized. But it wasn’t. “Who are you?” she asked.

      There was a flash of disappointment in his gaze, but it disappeared almost at once. “Max Daniels.”

      “We—we dated?”

      “Briefly.”

      “Caroline, the man is obviously after your money. I’ll get rid of him,” James Adkins promised, and then motioned to the other two daddy candidates.

      She didn’t know who she was, or who these people were, but she did know she didn’t take kindly to being overruled. “I don’t think that decision is yours to make.”

      The uproar her assertion of independence brought from her father, the other two men, even her mother and sister, was enough to make Caroline’s headache feel like a volcanic eruption.

      Even in pain, however, she noticed that the center of the controversy, Mr. Blue Jeans, shot her a look of approval. Well, he needn’t think he was home free. She wasn’t about to take a stranger’s word about such an important matter.

      She was struck by the irony of calling the man a stranger when he might be the father of her child.

      “I asked you not to question or upset her,” Dr. Johansen interrupted. “You’ll all have to leave now.”

      Though they didn’t go quietly, the doctor herded the visitors from the room and left Caroline in peace.

      As much peace as one could have, pregnant without knowing who the father might be.

      Could she really have been sleeping with three men? Was she the kind of woman who hopped from bed to bed? Revulsion filled her and she wanted to believe that was not possible. But then why were three men claiming to be the daddy?

      She recalled her father’s remark, that Max Daniels was only after her money. Once the pregnancy had been revealed, she hadn’t thought about her life before the accident. She was wealthy? Not that she objected. Not having to worry about paying hospital bills would be an advantage.

      But she needed answers! She wanted to reclaim her life, to understand what was happening to her. And most of all, she wanted to know which man had made love to her two months ago. And heaven help her if it was more than one.

      “ARE YOU ALL PACKED?” the nurse asked cheerfully, coming into her room the next morning.

      Caroline murmured yes, not bothering to point out she had almost nothing to pack. She didn’t move her head, however. Even after twenty-four hours, it felt fragile. “Is—is my father here?”

      She still wasn’t comfortable with James Adkins, or the other members of her family. Or even with herself, for that matter. She’d looked in a mirror and seen a stranger. A pregnant stranger.

      That thought had been brought home to her when she’d gotten up this morning. Morning sickness, heightened by her concussion, the nurse had said, had attacked her. What little breakfast she’d eaten had come right back up.

      Women go through this more than once? Voluntarily? The nurse had reassured her that her sickness was perfectly normal in the circumstances.

      “He called earlier to let us know he was picking you up at ten. It’s almost that now. I’ll bring a cart for the flowers.”

      Her father had flooded her room with floral arrangements. Even more interesting had been the offerings from two of the men claiming to have fathered her baby. Long-stemmed red roses. Two dozen apiece.

      Nothing from Max Daniels.

      “Why don’t you pass the flowers out among the sick?” Caroline said. “I think that might be easier than carting them all home.” Wherever that was.

      “That’s very generous of you. I have several patients who never receive flowers.” The nurse smiled.

      “Then I hope they enjoy these.”

      Footsteps near the door had her turning around carefully. But it was neither the doctor nor her father. Her heartbeat picked up speed as she stared at Max Daniels.

      How could she have forgotten making love to this man? He was certainly handsome, but there was something more—a connection she couldn’t explain—that took her breath away. She noted he was again in jeans, this time coupled with a starched plaid shirt, and he held a bouquet of daisies in his hand.

      “Good morning,” he said.

      She responded and waited, watching him. His eyes, as blue as the sky, looked wary, as if he weren’t sure of his welcome. The nurse slipped from the room, murmuring something about fetching a cart. Left alone with him, Caroline’s mouth went dry as she stared at the gorgeous man in front of her. The urge to touch him almost consumed her. When Max continued to say nothing, she asked in desperation, “Are those for me?”

      He held the flowers out to her. “Yeah.” His gaze took in the roses and carnations that filled the room. “You told me you liked daisies.”

      If she hadn’t before, she did now. If Max Daniels delivered them. “I do, thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

      “Has your memory returned?” He took a step closer, his gaze intent.

      She started to shake her head and then stopped. The headache hovering on the edge of consciousness edged closer with any radical movement. “No, it hasn’t.”

      He thrust the flowers into her hands and stepped back. “Then