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Whose Child? - Superromance #1204 May 2004

Four years ago, scared and alone, Lexie Jacobs arrived in Mill Creek, Montana with $24.63 in her pocket and a baby in her belly.

The money was hers.

The baby...wasn’t.

And now Daddy’s found them.

Excerpt #2

He'd forgotten how sensitive she was.  Her dark walnut hair was now shoulder length instead of the short pixie cut she'd always sported.  The small bit of color on her face drained from her porcelain complexion, making her look terrified and almost...fragile.

He was not, repeat, not, going to feel sorry for her.

She was a kidnapper, for God's sake.

Not his best friend's little sister.  Not the tagalong who'd followed them everywhere until she'd learned how to read and chosen adventure through books.

Not the woman who'd tried to give him his dream of a child.  The woman who'd stolen that child.

"Where is she?" Lexie asked again, her voice rising, a note of panic lacing the quivering words.  "Sarah!"  She whirled toward the library's doorway.

David grabbed her by the forearm.  "Angela isn't here."  He wasn't going to get into the details of his divorce and the rest of his ex-wife's sudden psychotic behavior, not now.  "Sarah is safe, calm down."

She turned back to face him, yanking on her wrist.  He tightened his grip.  "Calm down?" she shrieked.  "Calm down?  I'll give you calm down!"  They fought a minor tug-of-war with her arm, then she kicked him in the shin.

He released her immediately, bending over to rub the throbbing spot.  "Ow, damn it, Lexie, that hurt."

"Really?  Imagine that.  Too bad I'm not wearing something with a pointed toe.  Now get out of my house!"

"Or?"  He straightened to his full height, which at six foot gave him at least a five inch advantage over her.  He squared his shoulders, setting his jaw.  If she thought he was going to march out of his daughter's life just 'cause she said so, she was in for a rude awakening that would stand Miss Manner's hair on end.

"Or, or...I'll call the Sheriff."

David crossed his arms and nodded.  "Good.  You do that.  Saves me from having to.  I had hoped we could do this in a civilized manner for my daughter's sake, but, hey, if you want to go to jail for kidnapping, dial away.  And maybe we can end up in the middle of a media circus, too.  Won't that be fun?  Can't you just see the headlines?" 

He swept his hand across the air as though spreading out a paper.  "Surrogate Mother Kidnaps Child In-Utero, Father Regains Custody Four Years Later with Help of Small Town Sheriff."  He'd avoided the media during his search for Lexie with the passion he usually reserved for a particularly nasty software virus.  He'd had enough headlines when Angela had been arrested the year after their divorce.  He knew how the vultures could be.  It wasn't something he wanted for his daughter.  Or himself.

"Kid-kidnapper?"  The spark of outrage faded from her green eyes, and they widened.  "Jail?"  Her mouth formed a little O but not a sound came out for several seconds.  Then she said, "I-I need to sit down."

And she did.  Right in the middle of the library floor.

She crossed her legs, and her fingers picked at the seam of her faded jeans.  She hung her head.

David exhaled loudly, ignoring the softening in his gut, the urge to tell her he wasn't going to send her to jail.  Let her worry for a change.  He'd done enough of it.  He recrossed his arms and waited for her to pull herself together.

The sounds of a ball game drifted from the room across the house, the old man cheering on his team.  At least his attention had stayed focused on that.  The last thing David needed was an overprotective friend of Lexie's butting into the middle of this mess.

A soft sniffle made him look back down at the woman on the floor.  She lifted her head.  Tears shimmered, as yet unshed, in her eyes.

"Oh, no," he said.  "No."  He pointed at her.  "Don't you dare cry.  Don't do it."

Her bottom lip trembled, and the floodgates opened, sending the tears cascading down her cheeks.  "S-sorry," she choked out.

"Aw, shit!"  If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was the sight of a woman in tears.  Genuine tears.  The fake, manipulating ones he could resist, but real ones...hell.  They made him feel like a helpless little boy again, watching his mother cry over a man not worth the salt she shed for him.  "I'm not going to send you to jail."

"That's not why I'm crying."  She ran the back of her hand across her face.

"Then what, for pity's sake?"

"You're going to take her away from me," she whispered.  "Aren't you?"

"She's not yours.  She never was yours."

"She's been mine in every way that counts for more than four years.  You gave up your rights to her when you refused to listen to me.  And stop talking about her like that.  She's a little girl, not a piece of personal property."  Lexie rose to her feet, hands balled on her hips.  "And her name is Sarah!"

"I did not give up my rights to her, and I know damn well what her name is - the name you gave her.  You stole from me, you stole from her.  Four years, she could have had a father in her life, but you thought you knew better."  A niggle of guilt twisted inside him, guilt because she had known better than him.

Lexie shook her head, only partially amazed at his audacity in telling her off.  After all this was David, a man she'd known all her life.  A man who'd wanted a family so badly that when she'd found out his wife couldn't carry a child, she'd impulsively volunteered to act as their surrogate.  Still, who did he think he was?  "I was worried about her life, something you seemed perfectly willing to risk at the time."

A small scuffling sound came from the doorway.  David's glance darted over her shoulder, and his face shifted.  The lines of anger and hurt melted away, softening into an expression of wonder she'd never forget.

Darn, if it wasn't just like a man to go and wreck a woman's perfectly good mad.  She knew without turning that David Mitchell had just gotten his first glimpse of his daughter.

Her hand curled into a fist.  If that expression turned to revulsion when he got a good look at the birthmark, she was going to coldcock him. 

"Momma?"

Lexie forced her fingers open, smoothing them along the leg of her jeans.  She turned and held her hand out.  "Come here, baby.  There's someone I want you to meet."

Sarah ran over, wrapping her arms around Lexie's legs, pressing her face against the faded blue denim.

Lexie stroked the soft curls on the small head, then looked over at the man who'd come to claim the child who meant the world to her.  Though she felt hollow inside, she met his questioning gaze straight on.  "She's a little shy."

He nodded, then got down on one knee.  "Hi, Sarah.  My name's David."

Sarah tightened her hold on Lexie's legs.  She pried her loose and squatted down, nearly falling over when the little girl threw her arms around her neck.  "Sarah," she said, regaining her balance, "David is..." she hesitated.  "He's..."

"I'm your father, honey."

The child stopped shifting in her arms.  Lexie glared at him.  So much for tact or giving us time to adjust.  The little girl risked a peek at him.  Then she shook her head, sending her curls into a bounce.  "No.  My daddy has black hair and a crown.  He's a king."

David laughed.  "Quite an imagination.  But it's true.  I'm your father."

"No!"  Sarah wiggled in Lexie's embrace, shoving at her chest.  "Momma said it don't work that way.  And it's not my birfday yet!"

David looked Lexie.  She shook her head, not wanting to explain the whole birthday-wish conversation.  He reached out toward Sarah's hair.

"No!"

The next thing Lexie knew, Sarah was leaning in David's direction.  He yelped and yanked his hand back in a hurry, shaking it.

"What?"

"She bit me."

"She what?"  Lexie released her.  "Sarah!  You don't bite people.  What were you thinking?"

"I'm not Sarah, I'm a dog.  Woof, woof."

David arched an eyebrow at her.

"Well, you're a bad dog, and you're going to your bed.  We don't tolerate biting around here from anyone."  Lexie stood, picked up Sarah and headed for the foyer, ignoring the child’s protests.

Halfway up the staircase, she realized David was practically stepping on her heels.  She stopped on the landing and glared at him over her shoulder.

"What?  I want to see my daughter's room.  Is that some kind of a crime?"  He lifted his hand, showing her the row of tiny teeth marks.  "Not to mention I'd better wash this."

"I'm sorry about that," Lexie said as she started to climb again.  "She pretends to be a dog a lot, but she's never bitten anyone before."  But it served him right. 

He grunted.  "Just my luck.  Miss out on plenty of my kid's firsts, but manage to make first bite.  Great fun.  So far, fatherhood exceeds my expectations."

From the book Whose Child? by Susan Gable
Harlequin Superromance® May 2004, ISBN 0-373-71204-9, ©2004 Susan Guadagno.

Cover Copyright (C) 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.
The excerpt published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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