Having My Baby (2 page)

“You and Dad had financial problems of your own at the time and don’t forget you always had a zillion kids running around here.”

“What made you change your mind about CryoCorp?” Maggie asked.

Derrick remembered perfectly well his reasons for changing his mind, but didn’t feel the need to tell everyone that he thought about his future a lot. The thought of having biological children out there who didn’t know him hadn’t felt right. He had come to the conclusion that if he ever had children of his own, he wanted to be a part of their lives. Nothing against families who needed donors; without sperm donors, many couples would never realize their dream of having a family. For Derrick, though, it just wasn’t something he was ready to do. “I changed my mind,” he finally said, “that’s all.”

“Do you have a copy of the letter you sent CryoCorp asking to be removed from their donor program?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t know.” Derrick thought of all the boxes piled in his garage at his home in Malibu an hour away. The chances of finding a copy of the letter were one in a million. The computer he’d originally used was long gone.

“If you have proof that you sent the letter,” Maggie went on, “we have options.”

“
We
do?”

She nodded.

Derrick had only seen Maggie on a few occasions since she left for college. He’d heard through the grapevine that she’d decided to go to law school, but he hadn’t been able to imagine it. Maggie used to be a goofball, the kind of girl who climbed trees and rolled in the mud. She didn’t have a serious bone in her body. But watching her now—back straight, eyes unblinking, serious voice—she had
lawyer
written all over her.

“I’ll call CryoCorp first thing in the morning,” Maggie said. “I’ll tell them we have a copy of the letter you sent and that we insist they cease and desist from any further use of your sperm.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “The only problem,” she added, “will be if 3516A has already become impregnated.”

Jake chuckled and before Derrick could usher him out of the room and really give his brother something to laugh about, Aaron and three more of Derrick’s siblings squeezed into the bedroom to see what all the excitement was about.

Aaron came through the door first. His hand slid around Maggie’s waist in a protective gesture as he turned to Derrick. “What’s going on?”

“Looks like we might have another baby to add to the chaos,” Jake said.

Derrick’s dad, Phil, was the last one to push his way through the door. “Who’s having a baby?”

Phil looked Maggie up and down, prompting Maggie to raise her hands in surrender. “It’s not me,” she said as she handed him the letter. “It’s Derrick.”

They all hovered around Phil as he read the letter aloud. After he finished, it was blessedly quiet for a minute.

And then the teasing began in earnest. And the baby began to cry. And a fierce pain shot up from Derrick’s knee, making him realize that if he didn’t get out of here soon, he was going to suffocate.

Chapter Two

Three Months Later

Across the street from Chandler Park in downtown Burbank, Derrick sat in his BMW and watched for any sign of a pregnant woman. He opened the window. A cool end-of-May breeze carried in the scent of newly cut grass.

With the help of a private investigator, he’d finally dug up information on 3516A, also known as Jill Garrison. He didn’t have a picture of the woman, but he knew Jill Garrison was five foot four, with brown hair and green eyes, and weighed in at 120 pounds.

CryoCorp had told Maggie that they had no record of the letter Derrick had sent asking to be removed as a donor and therefore, CryoCorp refused to dole out any information regarding their client, 3516A. If it hadn’t been for the investigator he hired, Derrick wouldn’t be here now watching three women run after too many children to count.

After arriving at Jill Garrison’s apartment this morning, it only took a few minutes to learn from a neighbor that she was at Chandler Park helping a friend with a birthday party.

Maggie had advised Derrick to stay away from the woman. There were legalities to sort out, she’d said, but Derrick didn’t listen. He still didn’t know whether or not 3516A, aka Jill Garrison, had become impregnated, and he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he knew the truth.

Derrick kept his gaze on the closest woman. She was blowing bubbles and making the kids laugh. They all ran after her, trying to catch the bubbles in their hands. Tall and slender, wearing a red jumpsuit, her long red hair glistened in the sun. The woman in red was not only too tall to be Jill, she was not a brunette and she wasn’t pregnant.

A few feet away from the bubble blower, another woman entertained the kids by playing red light, green light.

Derrick lifted his Ray-Bans for a better look: brown-hair with lots of untamed curls and long legs—much too tall to be Jill Garrison.

The third and last woman was the lady in blue: blue T-shirt, blue tennis shoes, and a blue floppy hat that covered her face and hair. She was reading a book to a couple of younger children and it was impossible to tell the color of her hair or how tall she was until one of the kids began crying, forcing the lady in blue into action.

He squinted into the sun. The lady in blue had black hair—no, make that brown. She wore a pair of white short shorts. He guessed her height to be five-foot-four.

Bingo.

She was petite and definitely
not
pregnant.

Tension left his shoulders and neck. He could breathe again. Life was good.

Children’s laughter lifted his spirits as he laid his head back on the headrest, slid on his sunglasses, and shut his eyes. Just the idea of becoming a father made him feel claustrophobic, not because he didn’t want a child but because he wasn’t ready. Guys needed to be prepared for this sort of thing. Besides, he preferred to have a child the traditional way—after he married the mother of his child. He chuckled to himself at the realization that he’d resorted to spying.

What the hell was he thinking
? What would he have done if he’d run into a pregnant Jill Garrison. Ha! Maggie was right. He never should have come.

A couple of
rap tap taps
on the passenger window got his attention. He sat up. A glimpse into the rearview mirror revealed a police car parked behind him. An officer leaned low and tapped on his passenger window again.

Derrick pushed the button on the side of his door and the window slid downward. “How can I help you, officer?”

“Please step out of the vehicle, sir.”

Confused, Derrick did as the officer asked. He then stepped around the front of the car and onto the sidewalk. Two women stood behind the officer. It was the bubble blower and another woman he hadn’t noticed before. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and her back was to him. The two women huddled together and whispered so he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Derrick slid off his Ray-Bans, hooked them on the front of his shirt, and waited for the officer to finish scribbling on his notepad.

This time when the officer looked at him, his jaw dropped. The officer pointed his pencil at him. “You’re Derrick Baylor, quarterback for the Los Angeles Condors.”

“That’s right.” Derrick offered his hand. “What can I do for you?”

“Officer Matt Coyle,” the officer said as he pumped Derrick’s hand. “I’d appreciate it if I could get your autograph. My sons are big fans.”

“Not a problem.”

“Officer, please!” the redhead interrupted.

Give the lady in red a devil’s fork, Derrick thought, and the picture would be complete.

Officer Coyle cleared his throat. “These ladies,” he said gesturing toward the women, “noticed you’ve been parked here for quite some time. Frankly, they were concerned about the children’s safety.”

The bubble blower turned toward Derrick, plunked both hands on her hips and looked him square in the eye, clearly
not
impressed by his celebrity status. The other woman merely threw a worried glance over her shoulder, which told him she was the guilty party, the one who had called the cops.

Derrick stepped past the officer and toward the ladies. “I’m sorry. I should have made my introductions sooner.”

The redhead narrowed her eyes. If looks could kill, Derrick would have fell over and died right there on the sidewalk.

“I came here looking for Jill Garrison,” Derrick said.

The brown-haired woman turned about, her eyes wide. “I’m Jill,” she said.

She stood at about five foot four. Brown hair. Green eyes. “Holy shit.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Pardon me?”

“Holy shit,” he said again, slower this time as his gaze fixated on her enlarged belly.

Bubble Blower grabbed her friend’s arm as if pulling her out of harm’s way. “Officer,” she said. “Mind giving us a little help here?”

“Mr. Baylor,” the officer said, “have you ever met either of these women?”

Derrick’s mind was numb, but somehow he managed to say, “No. Never.”

“You’re making the ladies nervous, and truthfully, you’ve got me wondering too—what is your business with this woman?”

Derrick pried his gaze from the woman’s stomach and raised his eyes to Jill’s. “She’s having my baby.”

Jill Garrison dropped her hands to her belly. “Excuse me?”

“You’re having my baby,” he said again and yet he wasn’t really sure if he’d said anything at all. A foggy mind and thick tongue weren’t helping matters. For months now he’d wondered if there was a woman out there somewhere who was pregnant with his baby. One day he’d feel excited by the thought and the next day he’d feel nothing but dread. His emotions had been running high. At the moment he didn’t know what to think or what to feel, but that didn’t stop his heart from thumping hard against his chest.

The officer scratched his jaw. “I thought you said you’d never met the woman.”

“That’s right. I haven’t.”

“Then how could she be having your baby?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I have time,” the officer said as he tucked his notebook away. “How about you ladies?”

Bubble Blower crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Definitely.”

Derrick couldn’t keep his eyes off the woman named Jill.

Could she truly be carrying his baby
?

Judging by the terrified look in her eyes, she could be. She looked regal in appearance: flawless skin, every hair in place, chin tilted upward, stiff and unbending. His gaze lowered to her ring finger. Nothing there. She wasn’t married, which he figured was a good thing—one less person to deal with.

Derrick shifted his weight from his bad leg to his good leg and started at the beginning. “About six years ago I became a donor to a company called CryoCorp. Eighteen months later, I sent them a letter asking them to remove me as a potential client. Three months ago I received a letter from CryoCorp telling me recipient 3516A, aka Jill Garrison, had selected me as a donor. And here I am.”

Jill Garrison’s face paled and her legs wobbled. The woman was going down. Derrick leapt forward and caught her in his arms before she hit the ground. He held her limp body, glad to see she was still breathing.

“Officer!” Bubble Blower cried out, clearly appalled by the sight of him holding her friend. “Do something.”

Officer Coyle headed for his vehicle.

Across the street, the long-legged woman and the lady in blue rounded up the kids. Derrick had an audience.

“Stay calm everyone,” Officer Coyle said. “There’s an ambulance on the way.”

“Hey, Hollywood!” one of the older kids shouted to Derrick. “Can I get your autograph?”

The lady in the floppy hat quickly ushered the kids toward the picnic bench where the balloons swayed to and fro.

A sharp pain shot up from Derrick’s knee. Jill Garrison’s full weight was not helping matters. He headed for his car. Bubble Blower followed close behind, stabbing a sharp fingernail into his back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“If you could open the back door,” Derrick said, “I’ll lay your friend on the backseat.”

“Oh, no you don’t. You could be another Ted Bundy for all I know.”

“My name is Derrick Baylor. I play for the Los Angeles Condors. The officer and the kid across the street can vouch for me, or would you rather hold her yourself?” He turned toward her, but she raised her hands in protest and then rushed to open the car door.

Derrick set his bum knee on the floor between the back and front seats and laid her down on the seat without any jarring movements. As he tried to pull his arm out from beneath Jill Garrison’s head, she reached out for him, curling her arms around his neck.

~~~

Jill released a contented sigh. Thomas had come for her. He was holding her in his arms, making her feel as if she was floating in air as he carried her over the threshold. Thomas leaned over and set her on the bed. Afraid he might leave too soon, she reached for him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Then she kissed him.

Thomas seemed tentative at first. His mouth felt firmer and hotter than she remembered, bordering on dangerous as he finally seemed to let himself go, enjoying the moment. The kiss was thrilling and she didn’t want it to end, but he pulled away. “Thomas,” she said. “Don’t go.” But it was too late. Everything ended too soon when it came to Thomas.
Everything
.

Jill’s eyes fluttered open and her breathing hitched upon seeing a gorgeous man hovering over her.

It definitely wasn’t Thomas.

It took her a moment to remember that it was the same man who’d proclaimed to be the father of her baby. The man held her head in the palm of his hand. The top of her pregnant belly brushed against his hard abs. “You’re not Thomas.”

A devilish smiled played on his lips. “Can’t say that I am.”

“Tell me I didn’t just kiss you.” But she knew she had. His eyes…the answer was in his eyes. And her lips—the unfamiliar taste of him still lingered on her lips.

“The ambulance is on the way,” he told her.