A Baby to Love Read online

  She hesitated on the doorstep. Overhead, dark, billowing clouds obscured the moon. The air, dank and humid, closed in to smother her. Crickets chirped in the late-summer heat, and sweat trickled under her arms. If not for Alex, she might have run. What and whom would she find inside her house?

  What would she do if she found someone in her bed?

  Shoving the possibility from her mind, she inserted a key in the lock, trying two before she used the right one. She eased the carriage over the threshold into a dark foyer lined with boxes labeled with black lettering that told her the contents held Alex’s belongings. The faint scent of pine and a crisp silence greeted her. Chelsea fumbled for the light switch, hoping it wouldn’t wake the baby.

  That thought became moot when a siren screamed. Damn! Damn! Damn! She’d set off an alarm.

  Alex woke and began to cry. Before the alarm alerted the entire neighborhood to her homecoming, Chelsea hurried to the hall closet, flung open the door and reached for the numbered kill switch. And groaned.

  She couldn’t remember the code to silence the wailing siren. She barely restrained her tears. Why could she recall where the alarm box was but not how to turn it off?

  Of course, she couldn’t recollect the name of the security company, either. Resigned but frustrated, she plucked the crying baby from his stroller, awkwardly placed Alex against her shoulder and stepped outside to wait for the police.

  Lights flashed on in the house across the street. But no one came to ask about her safety, which led her to believe she wasn’t overly friendly with her neighbors.

  An hour later, the police had checked the empty house, silenced the alarm and gone. Alex was still screaming.

  The house seemed to be in an L-shaped configuration and featured a sheltered courtyard and windowed, south-facing wall. Warm buff dominated the interior walls in a monochromatic blend of textures and styles.

  She brought the baby into the airy den amid a collection of antiques and headed toward a French chest that matched the subdued shade of green on the dining-room and living-room ceilings. Stepping across glowing floors of heart pine, she took pleasure in a pair of lamps made from Regency candlesticks and topped with shades of Cowtan fabric. Apparently well-loved elements, a champagne cooler, a French bronze lamp and a Chinese porcelain plate rested together on a Portuguese console. A glance out back showed a shimmering pool next to what looked like a wisteria-covered arbor.

  Chelsea wrinkled her nose. A pungent odor emanated from Alex. The smell grew stronger. A dirty diaper. Is that why he wouldn’t stop crying?

  Remembering how he’d responded to Dr. Kendall’s voice, she tried to talk to him. “I’ll clean you up. Give me a moment.” She carried him back into the hallway full of boxes. “All we have to do is find a diaper.”

  Her voice made no good impression on the baby. He cried even louder.

  In the boxes by the door, she found washcloths, baby shampoo, powder and soap. There were linens for a crib, bibs, and clothing—but no diapers.

  Carrying Alex with one hand and a box of supplies with the other, she dumped the carton on the kitchen counter by the sink. Next she spread out a clean towel, placed the baby atop it and ran the lukewarm water into the sink.

  Feeling efficient and organized yet inept, she removed the diaper. While she held her breath, she pinched the soiled plastic between two fingers and dumped it into the trash. She used a wipe on his cute little bottom, dusted him with powder and then patted his soft tummy. Alex kicked in protest the entire time.

  “What? What’s wrong, little guy?”

  She racked her brain, wondering what mothers used before disposable diapers were invented. What else could go wrong? He should have stopped crying. Could he have colic? Appendicitis?

  Keeping her voice even was difficult with his wails grating on her eardrums. “Come on, Alex. Give it a rest.”

  She picked him up, ignoring the powder on her blouse and carried him down the back hall toward what must be the bedroom. Opening the first closet door she came to, she found hand towels. If she possessed a sewing kit and safety pins for a makeshift diaper, she hadn’t a clue where to look for them.

  Returning to the kitchen, she laid Alex back on the counter. Perhaps she could tie the towel ends about his hips and fashion a diaper.

  “You don’t have to fight me.” His arms thrashed like a freestyler’s in an Olympic race. Holding his hips steady was next to impossible. “Come on, baby. Hold still.”

  Alex’s legs churned like an egg beater. In his rage, his face turned from pink to deep crimson.

  When a rap on the front door sounded, Chelsea jumped. Her mouth turned dry. Suppose the attacker from the hospital had followed her here?

  When she picked up the infant, the cloth slipped past his knees. One kick, and the towel fell to the floor. And she considered sitting down right there next to the towel and crying along with Alex.

  At another knock, she straightened her back, shoved aside her sudden apprehension about someone at her door at this time of night and carried the half-naked baby to the hall.

  Suddenly, warm liquid seeped down the front of her blouse. “Oh, Alex. You didn’t…”

  She peered down at her blouse and groaned. “You did.”

  Odd noises, a thump, a groan, a bang, seeped through the door.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  When no one answered, a chill worried its way down her spine and deep into her stomach. She couldn’t hide and pretend no one was home—not with Alex screaming like a banshee.

  She shouted the first thing that came to mind. “Don’t try anything funny. The house is surrounded by police.”

  “I would have noticed that, ma’am,” a deep voice answered from the other side of the door. “After all, I’m out here and you’re in there.”

  From the hallway, she flipped on the exterior porch light. At two more sharp thumps at the bottom of the door, she glanced through the peephole. At first sight of someone sinister, she would call 911.

  “Dr. Kendall!”

  She recalled her earlier words about police surrounding the property, and blood heated her cheeks. She hurried to unlock the door and wondered why he was here. No one was sick, unless she counted the ache in her palpitating heart.

  “I thought—” She started to apologize, then stopped in surprise. Her reaction to him was so swift and violent. He had come to her home, at night, and except for the baby they were alone. Her former panic turned into another kind of tension. Her insides jangled at the sight of him, making her feel like a breathless teen.

  “It’s okay.” His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Marvelous,” she muttered, her sarcasm covering her giddy sense of pleasure at seeing him again.

  As relief and excitement helped the knots in her stomach unwind, she opened the front door wider. “Come in. You scared the daylights out of me. I wasn’t expecting…”

  Dr. Kendall must have kicked the door with his foot. Both hands were full. He looked terrific in crisp navy jeans that hugged lean hips, his shoulders more than filling out a white button-down shirt open at the collar. Tearing her gaze from the tempting V and the fine hairs curling below his neck, she took in the packages he was juggling. His clean-cut look impressed her. But what won her over was the gallon of rocky-road ice cream and a jar of fudge in the bag wedged beneath one arm. He carried in both hands a large basket laden with formula, a pacifier and a rattle.

  She reached out and took the almost-falling bag balanced between the basket and his chest, peeked inside and found a jar of maraschino cherries. But when the huge box in the middle of the basket caught her attention, her lips split into a wide grin. “You brought diapers!”

  If she hadn’t been so tired and her head wasn’t pounding, she would have danced an Irish jig. “Dr. Kendall, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  “Call me Jeff. And you’re welcome.” He laughed, his rich baritone low and throaty. Alex’s head turn
ed, but he didn’t stop crying.

  Her blouse dripped onto her skirt. Spinning on her heel, she didn’t wait for Jeff but fled to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “We had a little accident.”

  She wrapped a towel around the baby, and as Jeff entered the kitchen she gave up mopping her ruined blouse with a paper towel. Wishing she could have looked great instead of standing in a sopping blouse, stinking of baby pee, she shot him a frazzled grin of welcome.

  “And you brought ice cream. Yum.” Right now she’d love a little sugar to boost her energy.

  Jeff’s eyes danced with amusement. “Why don’t you go clean up, and I’ll take over for a while.”

  Now, that was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Not that there was much about Dr. Jeffrey Kendall she wanted to resist. His charming blend of male-model good looks and thoughtfulness was a knockout combination. Careful. She had to remember her past before she could have Jeff in her future. And in the present, the baby needed attention. “First, please check Alex. He’s been screaming for a while. Is he okay?”

  Jeff glanced at the crying baby. “He’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  Gingerly she handed him the wailing infant. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

  His eyes warmed and his mouth turned up in a smile that sent a reviving sizzle straight to her toes. “I’ll think of something.” The heated look in his eyes radiated intimacy and left her with a fuzzy warmth rushing through her veins.

  He shooed her on. “Go. And remember not to get those stitches wet”

  The master suite encompassed a sleek, clean-lined glamour that appealed to her. And a single dresser. Relief that she needn’t confront a husband flooded her.

  Reminiscent of Park Avenue heiresses in the twenties, devil-may-care images created by early filmmakers decorated the walls. Sharply defined silk window treatments, plush wool-velour carpeting and a pattern of warm grays and taupes added to the room’s glamorous tones. Although none of it seemed familiar, the room soothed her.

  She showered quickly, unwilling to take advantage of Jeff’s generosity. She had no right to be thinking the things she did about the handsome doctor. She sighed. He’d probably stopped by just to see if she was okay. No doubt he believed it his duty to follow up on his patient and was anxious to be on his way. He probably thought he’d released a lunatic to take care of Alex and worried over the baby’s safety. Although this scenario wasn’t flattering, she couldn’t blame him for wondering about her mental health.

  Even without a full memory, she knew that doctors didn’t make midnight house calls. Dr. Kendall—Jeff, she amended—was a rare individual in the way he cared for his patients. They hadn’t yet had a chance to talk, and she hoped he’d come to tell her they’d caught her attacker.

  She opened the closet to confront an array of strange clothes. Riffling through the hangers, she felt like a shopper in a department store, except she already knew every garment would fit. Thankful there were no men’s clothes next to hers, she brushed her fingers along the soft fabrics until she found some casual items.

  As she changed into jeans and a kelly knit sweatshirt that would bring out the green in her eyes, she tried to ignore the reason she was primping. After dabbing on lip gloss, she hurried back to Jeff to see how he was managing with Alex.

  She shouldn’t have worried. Jeff had everything under control. He sat in the recliner, a diapered Alex in his arms. The baby, eyes closed, was sucking down the last drops of formula.

  His bold gaze flickered over her. “You look great.”

  “Thanks.” She spoke in a normal tone that belied the sudden squirmy sensations his compliment had caused.

  “I came to apologize.”

  “What for?” She met his direct gaze with a curious one of her own.

  “After I got off duty, I started thinking and realized I should have taken your story of an intruder more seriously.”

  She forced herself to squelch the hope that he was here for another reason than an apology. “Hey, it’s okay. I probably wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

  The phone rang, its shrill tone cutting the peaceful scene like a scalpel. A call at midnight couldn’t possibly be good news. An icy prickle trickled down her back.

  She took a deep breath and picked up the phone. “Hello.”

  “You owe me. I’m coming to collect.” The whispered threat sounded more ominous than a shout.

  Chapter Four

  She slammed the phone down in the cradle. The blood drained from her face. Again she wished for her missing gun. Perhaps she’d even bought the weapon because she’d been receiving threatening phone calls.

  Jeff, tough and lean, came to her side without waking Alex. “What happened?”

  “Just a crank call.”

  The phone rang again and she jumped, her pulse racing.

  With a commanding air of self-confidence, Jeff reached for the phone an instant before she did. “Hello.”

  She held her breath.

  He dropped the receiver back into its cradle. “They hung up.”

  “Did they say anything?”

  “No.” His brow creased with worry. “Did someone threaten you?”

  She repeated the words, sure she’d never forget them or the sick feeling in the hollow of her stomach at the threat. “The person said, ‘You owe me. I’m coming to collect.’”

  “Was the voice a man or a woman?”

  “I don’t know. They whispered in a raspy tone.”

  “Maybe we should call the police,” Jeff suggested.

  Chelsea’s voice quivered. “What is happening to me? What was I involved in before the accident?”

  “Don’t worry,” Jeff soothed. “I’m not going anywhere until we get some answers.”

  Jeff hadn’t asked if he could spend the night; he’d told her. And while his take-charge attitude should have made Chelsea’s need for independence rise up and refuse his help, she had Alex’s safety to think about If anything happened to her, who’d look after the baby?

  Besides, she was scared. Someone had tried to attack her, and now she’d been threatened. So although she wasn’t sure if she liked Jeff taking control, with her memory loss, the incident in the hospital and now this menacing phone call, she’d be foolish to deny his offer of additional protection. Especially when she had no idea why she’d bought a gun.

  If she could find out more about herself, she might discover who was threatening her, what she owed the caller and why she didn’t have enough change in her wallet to pay a toll. If it hadn’t been for Jeff’s generosity, she wouldn’t have had cab fare.

  He’d already helped her so much, she wasn’t sure how she’d have managed without him. So despite his forceful statement, she gave him a jittery smile. “Are you sure staying is not too much trouble?”

  “No problem.”

  “It was likely just a crank call.” She didn’t believe her own words but she wanted to sound rational and calm instead of on the verge of panic.

  “Probably. But I couldn’t sleep if I drove away and left you alone.” He glanced down at the sleeping baby. “Where do you want the little guy?”

  “I saw a crib in the back bedroom.”

  “I’ll see to him.” Jeff jerked his thumb at the kitchen desk. “You might want to check the answering machine. You’ve got some messages.”

  She walked over to the machine and pressed the Playback button with anticipation, hoping to finally hear some clues to her predicament. “The library books on order have come in. Please pick them up within three working days.”

  She tapped her foot while waiting for a beep, then a woman spoke in a businesslike tone. “This is Sandy. Don’t forget your appointment tomorrow.”

  Jeff returned, opened the freezer and removed the ice cream. “Who’s Sandy?”

  “I don’t know.” Her frustration seethed until she thought she’d boil over. She hadn’t learned much. Only now she had more questions that needed answers. “And I hope my app
ointment isn’t important.”

  If he heard the disappointment in her tone, he ignored it. Making himself at home in her kitchen, he stuck the jar of fudge in the microwave and took two bowls out of a cabinet. “How much hot fudge did you say you wanted on your sundae?”

  “Lots.” It might take a gallon to cheer her, but she appreciated the effort he was making.

  His grin was irresistibly devastating “And four cherries on top?”

  “You have a good memory. So tell me, Doctor—” she gestured to the bowl of ice cream he’d offered, and she kept her tone light as if his answer would mean little to her “—do all your patients get this kind of treatment?”

  Light smoldered in his blue-flecked eyes as he moved toward her. “Ah, Chelsea. You are no longer my patient.” His husky whisper offered as much promise as warning, and she felt as if her breath had been cut off.

  She swallowed hard and bit her lip until it throbbed like her pulse. The taste of hot fudge was almost forgotten. With just a few words, he’d kindled a hunger for something much sweeter.

  He dipped his head, and his lips touched hers. A mere brush of flesh. But there was nothing “mere” about the desire flaring within her. And it was too much for her to handle. Too soon to be kissing this man when she couldn’t remember if she was promised to another.

  Awkwardly she moved away, fleeing what she wanted most, trying to channel the restless energy slicing through her into another activity. “I need to keep looking for clues.”

  Banking the desire in his eyes, accepting the limits she’d set, he let her change the subject as if he recognized how uncomfortable she was with her own feelings. While they spoke, she searched the desk in her kitchen for her missing gun, a personal phone directory, a clue to why she’d been attacked and threatened. Names and phone numbers would be a great place to start looking for answers about her past. Instead, she found menus for take-out food delivery.

  Giving up on the desk with a sigh, she wandered into the connecting den and talked to Jeff through the pass-through above the bar. “There are no photographs on the walls.”