Baby, You're Mine. Peggy Moreland. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Peggy Moreland
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Современные любовные романы
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o’clock and the streets were still jammed with cars. Wondering why any one would choose to live such a rat-race existence, he warned his brother, “But not for much longer.”

      “Did you talk to her?”

      Woodrow frowned and turned from the window. “Yeah. I talked to her. Didn’t get very far, though.”

      “Is she going to fight us for custody of the baby?”

      “Don’t know. She said it was too much to deal with all at once. She needed time to think.”

      “That doesn’t surprise me,” Ace replied, his voice grim. “I’m sure it was a shock to learn her sister had died and left a newborn infant behind.”

      Woodrow remembered the shocked look on the doctor’s face. But where was the grief? The hysterical female he’d expected to have to console? “Yeah,” he agreed vaguely. “It was a shock all right.”

      “So when do you plan to talk with her again?”

      “The ball’s in her court now. I left her my cell number.”

      “You’re just going to sit around and wait for her to call you?”

      “What the hell do you want me to do?” Woodrow snapped impatiently. “Put a gun to her head and demand that she sign away her rights to the kid so you and Maggie can play mommy and daddy?” He immediately regretted the cruel remark, knowing how much his brother and sister-in-law loved that kid. He dragged a hand over his head. “I didn’t mean that,” he said wearily. “I’m just in a bad mood. You know how much I hate big cities.”

      “Yeah, I know, which is why I appreciate even more you doing this for us.”

      Woodrow grunted. “Yeah. Like I had a choice.”

      “Bring her here.”

      Woodrow pressed the phone closer to his ear, sure that he’d misunderstood. “What?”

      “Bring Star’s sister to the ranch. I’m sure she isn’t going to feel comfortable releasing custody of her niece to complete strangers. Bring her here and let her get to know us. Let her see what ordinary people we are.”

      “Ordinary?” Woodrow repeated, then snorted a laugh. “Brother, there’s nothing ordinary about the Tanner family. We live from one scandal to the next, without time to catch our breaths before we’re hit with another one.”

      Elizabeth nervously fingered the piece of paper she’d slipped into her robe pocket. Scrawled on the back was Woodrow Tanner’s cell phone number. He’d said for her to call him when she was ready to talk, though she was sure he’d meant when she had decided what she wanted to do about the custody issue. Unfortunately, in the hours since she’d learned of her sister’s death, she hadn’t reached a decision.

      But she did have questions. Hundreds of them. How had Renee died? Was she alone when she passed away? How old was her baby? Did the baby look like Renee? Why hadn’t Woodrow’s father married Renee? Where had Renee lived? Where had she worked? Where was she buried? Had Renee never mentioned having a family? Was that why the Tanners had hired a private detective to track Elizabeth down?

      She pulled the paper from her pocket and stared at the number. He’d have the answers, she told herself, and picked up the phone. She quickly punched in the number, then waited, telling herself that once she had answers, she’d have a clearer idea of what she should do about Renee’s baby.

      “Yo.”

      She jumped at the unexpected, gruff greeting. “Mr. Tanner?” she said uncertainly.

      “Yeah.”

      “Um…this is Dr. Elizabeth Montgomery.”

      “Yeah, I know. I’ve got one of those fancy phones with caller ID. Even tells me the time. It’s 1:33 a.m., in case you’re wondering.”

      She winced, not having realized the hour. “I’m sorry. Really. I had no idea it was so late. I’ll call back in the morning.”

      “No need. I wasn’t asleep.”

      “Oh.” She pressed a hand against the top of her head and began to pace. “Well, I’ve been thinking, Mr. Tanner—”

      “Woodrow.”

      She stopped and frowned. “What?”

      “Woodrow. That’s my name.”

      “Oh.” She sighed and dropped her hand. “Well, I’ve been thinking…Woodrow,” she said cautiously, testing the sound of his name, “about what you said this afternoon. Concerning the custody,” she clarified, and began to pace again. “I was hoping you might answer some questions for me.”

      “You wouldn’t happen to have a pot of coffee made, would you?”

      She stopped, wrinkling her brow in confusion. “What?”

      “Coffee. You know. That black stuff.”

      “Well…no. Why?”

      “Put some on. I think better after I’ve had a few cups.”

      “You’re coming to my house?”

      “I’m already here.”

      She whirled to stare at the front door. “You’re here?” she repeated in dismay.

      “Yeah. And when you open the door, would you mind giving the old bat across the street a wave? She’s been watching me like a hawk. Probably thinks I’m a burglar.”

      Elizabeth hurried to the door and unlocked it. By the time she opened it, Woodrow was halfway up the walk, his cell phone still pressed to his ear. She stared, struck again by his size. She remembered thinking that afternoon how large a man he was, but he seemed even taller now, broader. And there was a John Wayne swagger in his walk that she hadn’t noticed that afternoon, which made him appear even bigger, tougher.

      “Wave,” he said into the receiver.

      She glanced beyond him and saw her neighbor, Mrs. Gladstone, peeking through a slit in the drapes of her front window. Forcing a smile, she lifted a hand in a wave.

      “Is she still looking?” he asked.

      Elizabeth watched Mrs. Gladstone snatch the drapes together and disappear. She tipped the receiver back to her mouth. “No. She’s gone now.”

      “Good.”

      Reaching the porch, he slid his cell phone into the holster clipped to his belt, then pulled hers from her ear and punched the disconnect button. He passed it back to her. “I guess we don’t need these anymore.”

      Her face heating in embarrassment, Elizabeth slipped the phone into the pocket of her robe. “No, I guess not.”

      He lifted a brow. “Are you going to invite me in?”

      Flustered, she backed into the house. “Oh. Yes. Please.” She waited for him to step inside, then closed and locked the door behind him.

      “Nice place you’ve got here.”

      She turned, following his gaze, caught off guard by the comment. “Thank you. I like it.”

      He cupped a hand on her elbow. “Now, about that coffee…”

      She stumbled along at his side, wondering belatedly if she’d made a mistake in inviting him in. After all, she knew nothing about this man. He could be a serial killer for all she knew.

      “Mr. Tanner—”

      They reached the kitchen and he released her arm. “Woodrow.”

      She squared her shoulders. “Woodrow,” she amended. “May I see your driver’s license, please?”

      He gave her a curious look, but reached behind him and pulled his wallet from his rear pocket. “I suppose so, though if you’re worried about your safety,