Secret Baby, Second Chance. Jane Godman

Prepared for disappointment, his nerves—already under intense pressure—were ratcheted up to crisis level when he heard a voice calling out.

      “Did you forget something, Detective?” It wasn’t just any voice. It was Beth’s voice.

      He wondered how she would react if she checked who it was through the peephole in the door. Her words indicated she thought Laurie had come back again, and he heard a key turn in the lock immediately after she spoke.

      The door swung open and the smile on her lips faded. As she gazed at him in shock, Vincente took a moment to drink in her appearance. Her hair was shorter, just reaching her shoulders now instead of the waist-length mass in which he had loved to bury his hands. It was scraped back into an unflattering ponytail. She looked thinner. And tired, definitely tired. Almost to the point of exhaustion. But maybe the reason for that was sitting on her hip.

      The baby wore pink sweatpants and a T-shirt with butterflies embroidered all over. Not quite a toddler, she was a perfect little girl. Her black hair clustered in a halo of curls around her head and she studied Vincente with eyes that were huge, dark and framed by thick, spiky lashes. The hint of olive to her skin and the full ruby lips were additional confirmation of his first suspicion. It was like looking in a mirror.

      Vincente almost took a step back in shock as he gazed at his daughter.

       Chapter 2

      The shock of seeing Vincente on her doorstep robbed Beth of the power to do anything. Thought, speech, movement—those basic functions deserted her just when she needed them most. The only thing she seemed capable of doing with any degree of competence was stare at him. Just stare...and maybe, deep down inside, feel the old longing to throw herself into his arms. But those days were gone. She wasn’t that person anymore. She didn’t have the luxury of acting on impulse where he was concerned. Where anything was concerned.

      “What’s her name?” Vincente threw her off balance with the question. Like I was well-balanced before he asked.

      “Lia.” It was surreal. She had pictured seeing him again so many times, but it had never been like this. She had imagined she would be cool and collected. Not that he would take away the ability to think of anything except how wonderful it was to see him again.

      “You gave our daughter an Italian name?”

      “No, my mother’s name was Amelia.” Even as she said the words, Beth realized her mistake. Vincente had said “our daughter,” and she hadn’t denied it. She lifted an impatient shoulder at the thought. Why would she deny it? Lia was his daughter. He only had to look at her to know that.

      “Can I hold her?” Beth was amazed at the humble note in Vincente’s voice. It was something she had never heard before, had never imagined he was capable of.

      “She’s not great with strangers.” She issued the warning just as Lia decided to take matters into her own hands.

      Holding her plump little arms up to Vincente, she wriggled her body away from her mother and toward him. Beth was so surprised at this phenomenon that she could only stare in astonishment as she handed Lia over. Vincente gazed into his daughter’s big brown eyes with an expression of wonderment. In that instant, something inside Beth’s chest lurched.

      “Woof,” Lia commented solemnly.

      “It’s her only real word,” Beth explained. “She copies the dog.”

      “Is that good or bad?” Vincente couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from Lia’s face. “I don’t know anything about these things.”

      “Well, she’s only eleven months, so she makes lots of sounds, but actual words aren’t really her thing.” For the second time that morning, she became conscious that she was keeping a visitor standing on the doorstep. But this wasn’t just any visitor. It was Vincente. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

      Fire blazed in the dark depths of his eyes. She could see him fighting to keep his anger under control for Lia’s sake. When he spoke, his jaw muscles were rigid. “I agree. Finding out I have an eleven-month-old daughter that you didn’t have the decency to tell me about is the worst idea I’ve ever heard of.”

      Vincente’s moods had no gray areas, only extremes, but his anger had never scared Beth. Now, it terrified her. Not because she feared he would hurt her. This was Vincente. She knew he was incapable of doing her any physical harm. It wasn’t fear of him that had made her flee Stillwater. But his gaze was a knife in her ribs, digging deeper with each passing second. Where once there had been warmth, there was now only contempt.

      A fierce longing to tell him the truth swept over her, and she thrust it aside. Annoyance bubbled up in its place, and she hugged that emotion to her. It was typical of Vincente to do it this way. To confront her, invade her space, then become judge and jury and deliver his verdict all within the space of a few minutes.

      “I’ve moved on with my life.” She tried for a hard tone as she delivered the words. It wasn’t true, but she needed to convince Vincente it was.

      “Fine.” The disdain left his eyes as they moved from Beth’s face to Lia’s. “Maybe we could continue this inside, since I’m not walking away now I know I have a daughter?”

      Inviting him in would make a huge statement. But what would she gain by keeping him standing here? She knew Vincente’s stubbornness only too well. When he said he wasn’t going anywhere, he meant it. The thunderstorm was coming. Where it took place was irrelevant. She led Vincente into the family room, and he sat on one of the sofas. Lia commenced an exploration of his face, pulling at his neatly trimmed beard and trying to poke him in the eye. Her delighted squeals broke the ice, and Beth found herself smiling at Vincente’s efforts to hold on to the squirming little bundle. Conscious of the untidy room, her shirt with its missing button and the stain on the front where Lia had spilled milk that morning at breakfast, Beth made a hurried movement to pick up some of the abandoned toys that littered the floor.

      “Why didn’t you tell me?” Even though it was the obvious question, it stopped her in her tracks. Since she had no idea where to begin with an answer, the series of increasingly anguished howls that rent the air provided a welcome reprieve.

      “What the hell is that?” Vincente looked horrified.

      “It’s my dog, Melon. He wants to come in.” Beth went through to the back of the house and opened the door.

      When Melon reached the door of the family room, he paused, his ears flattening and his tail drooping. Beth could almost read the dog’s mind. Visitors were a rarity, but Melon was a sociable creature, and, on the whole, he liked them. This one, however, had the audacity to place his hands on Melon’s beloved baby. That couldn’t be tolerated.

      Crouching low, Melon bared his teeth and growled at Vincente. Since aggression toward humans wasn’t in his nature, he mitigated the threat by wagging his tail.

      “Sit!” Vincente’s voice was stern. Beth recalled that he always did have a way with animals.

      Melon, clearly realizing the error of his ways, dashed over to him, and attempted to lick his hand. “I said ‘sit.’”

      To Beth’s amazement, Melon sat.

      “He doesn’t do that for me.” She couldn’t keep the aggrieved note out of her voice.

      “You have to show him who’s boss.” Vincente snapped his fingers. Melon sidled forward, resting his head on Vincente’s knee and gazing up at him with adoring eyes.

      Beth took a deep breath. “Look, I’m not trying to avoid this conversation, but I have a huge amount of work to do and the deadline is tomorrow. And I need to get Lia’s lunch ready...”

      “You look tired.” Vincente’s eyes probed her face. Although it felt strange to have him here, a comment such as that was oddly comforting. It reminded her how well he knew her. He