Detective Daddy Read online

  It would be a hell of a lot easier to psych himself into confronting an armed perp than to face delivering a baby….

  Armed with a plastic drop cloth and a stack of worn-but-clean towels, Dan went back and prepared the couch the way Fay had told him to.

  “Thanks,” she said. “If I hadn’t seen your light…” Her words trailed off and she began to take deep breaths.

  “Another contraction?”

  She nodded, and he knelt beside her, tentatively resting his hand on her abdomen. Through the flannel cloth, it felt rigid as a board. He checked the second hand of his watch. Before he could move his hand, something thrust against it, surprising him. Damned if the baby hadn’t kicked him. The realization made him smile. Feisty little thing. Dan decided the most reassuring thing he could do for Fay was to keep his mouth shut about how inexperienced he really was. Strange how people assumed cops delivered lots of babies.

  “Um, Dan? It’s coming—”

  And without hesitation, he sprang into action….

  Dear Reader,

  Well, if it’s true that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, you’re going to need some fabulous romantic reads to get you through the remaining cold winter nights. Might we suggest starting with a new miniseries by bestselling author Sherryl Woods? In Isn’t It Rich?, the first of three books in Ms. Wood’s new MILLION DOLLAR DESTINIES series, we meet Richard Carlton, one of three brothers given untold wealth from his aunt Destiny. But in pushing him toward beautiful—if klutzy—PR executive Melanie Hart, Aunt Destiny provides him with riches that even money can’t buy!

  In Bluegrass Baby by Judy Duarte, the next installment in our MERLYN COUNTY MIDWIVES miniseries, a handsome but commitment-shy pediatrician shares a night of passion with a down-to-earth midwife. But what will he do when he learns there might be a baby on the way? Karen Rose Smith continues the LOGAN’S LEGACY miniseries with Take a Chance on Me, in which a sexy, single CEO finds the twin sister he never knew he had—and in the process is reunited with the only woman he ever loved. In Where You Least Expect It by Tori Carrington, a fugitive accused of a crime he didn’t commit decides to put down roots and dare to dream of the love, life and family he thought he’d never have. Arlene James wraps up her miniseries THE RICHEST GALS IN TEXAS with Tycoon Meets Texan! in which a handsome billionaire who can have any woman he wants sets his sights on a beautiful Texas heiress. She clearly doesn’t need his money, so whatever can she want with him? And when a police officer opens his door to a nine-months-pregnant stranger in the middle of a blizzard, he finds himself called on to provide both personal and professional services, in Detective Daddy by Jane Toombs.

  So bundle up, and take heart—spring is coming! And so are six more sensational stories about love, life and family, coming next month from Silhouette Special Edition!

  All the best,

  Gail Chasan

  Senior Editor

  Detective Daddy

  JANE TOOMBS

  Books by Jane Toombs

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Nobody’s Baby #1081

  Baby of Mine #1182

  Accidental Parents #1247

  Designated Daddy #1271

  Wild Mustang #1326

  Her Mysterious Houseguest #1391

  The Missing Heir #1432

  Trouble in Tourmaline #1464

  Detective Daddy #1602

  Silhouette Shadows

  Return to Bloodstone House #5

  Dark Enchantment #12

  What Waits Below #16

  The Volan Curse #35

  The Woman in White #50

  The Abandoned Bride #56

  Previously published under the pseudonym Diana Stuart

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Out of a Dream #353

  The Moon Pool #671

  Silhouette Desire

  Prime Specimen #172

  Leader of the Pack #238

  The Shadow Between #257

  JANE TOOMBS

  lives most of the year on the shore of Lake Superior in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula along with a man from her past and their crazy calico cat, Kinko. In the winter, though, they all defect to Florida for three months. In addition to writing, Jane enjoys knitting and gardening.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter One

  Listening to the howl of the wind outside the hunting lodge in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, Dan Sorenson dropped another log onto the fire and poked it into place. A good night to be indoors, he thought. These storms usually lasted up to three days, switching back and forth from sleet to snow, until they finally petered out. Hell to try to drive in them or to venture out at all. Lucky he’d piled enough wood into the back shed before this particular April storm began.

  He glanced around at the comfortable, if shabby, main room of what had been his grandfather’s, then his dad’s hunting lodge set in acres of wilderness. Its cedar logs had been carefully notched into place long ago by immigrant craftsmen from Finland; the place could stand up to whatever Mother Nature threw at it. Favoring his left leg, he crossed to a side window in a vain effort to peer into the darkness.

  He checked the switch to the porch light, left in the up position and shook his head. He’d turned the light on, the same way his mother always had done in a storm.

  “You never know who might have need of a light in bad weather,” she’d always said.

  Certainly no one in this isolated area. But, somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to shut it off. He turned away, about to head back to the comfort of the Morris chair drawn up by the fireplace when he was startled by a noise.

  Was someone at the door—on this miserable night in the middle of nowhere? Impossible. And yet he was almost sure he’d heard a sort of scrabbling sound, all but drowned by the wailing wind. Better check it out. He turned back toward the door, automatically reaching for his gun. Once a cop, always a cop, but, of course he wasn’t wearing his piece, he’d left it up in the loft. Didn’t need to keep it on him here in the wilderness, especially during a storm. He reached for the knob and pulled the door toward him.

  Dan caught his breath. A woman covered from head to toe with snow stood swaying on the front porch. He reached out and hauled her into the lodge, shoving the door shut against the thrust of the wind.

  “C-c-cold,” she whispered.

  He guided her toward the fire, and took off her soaked coat. My God—the woman was pregnant! She hugged herself, shivering.

  “S-so c-cold,” she repeated.

  Dan convinced her to take off her sweater, but had to help, since her fingers shook so badly. He was concerned to find that the shirt she wore was also damp. So were her pants.

  “You need a hot shower right away.”

  She stared at him so blankly he was afraid she was in beginning hypothermia. “Come with me,” he said, taking her chilled hand and leading her into the bathroom.

  “I’ll start the water,” he told her. When he released her hand, she stood where he’d left her, her face expressionless. He was about to tell her he’d get out of the room so she could peel off her wet clothes, but she didn’t seem to move.

  “Are you able to get undressed without help?” he asked bluntly.

  The woman didn’t answer.

  He pushed out a frustrated breath. “Look,” he said, �
��my name is Dan, and I’m going to have to help you take that shower. Okay?”

  He started the water, testing the temperature until it was good and warm, then he pulled her shirt over her head. She didn’t react so he turned his attention to the elastic-waist pants that were pulled over the huge bulge in her abdomen. He put down the lid of the toilet, eased her onto it, then removed her shoes, socks and the pants, leaving her in a pair of under-pants and a bra that seemed dry.

  As he unhooked her bra, he realized just how cold her skin was to his touch. Half-frozen. Where the hell had she come from? He quickly took off her panties, then stood her up and urged her into the shower. Because he worried she might collapse, he stayed in the bathroom watching her as she stood under the running water.

  When he judged the water had warmed her, he turned off the faucets, took her hand and led her out of the stall, drying her off with a towel, then wrapping another around her. He led her back into the main room by the fire then he ran up the stairs to his loft bedroom and rummaged through an old cedar chest to find something dry for her to wear. Flannel. Yes, that would do.

  He put his grandfather’s old flannel pajama top on her, trying not to touch her full breasts as he buttoned it down the front. His grandfather had been a tall and heavy man so the top hung almost to her knees. After he rolled up the sleeves for her, Dan said, “I’ll sit you down so we can get on the pajama bottoms.”

  To his surprise this produced a reaction. She shook her head.

  “You’d be warmer with them on.”

  Pain flickered across her face and she crossed her hands over her swollen abdomen. “It’s coming,” she said.

  “It?”

  “The baby.”

  Dan swallowed. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  He stared at her, trying to come to terms with the realization that he was the only one she could depend on for help. No, wait, there was his doctor brother in Evergreen Bluff. He couldn’t get her there but he could call Bruce and ask him what the hell to do.

  Leading her to the old couch that was angled to face the fire, he settled her there, saying, “Take it easy, okay?”

  He strode to the wall phone. As he reached for it, the lights went out. He lifted the receiver to his ear and confirmed even more bad news. No dial tone. The phone line was down as well as the electric line and unfortunately, his cell phone didn’t work in this remote place.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, as much to himself as to the woman. “I’ll light a couple of lanterns.”

  With the light from the fire guiding him, he soon had two of the kerosene lamps lit. He placed one on the all-purpose table in the main room and set the other on an end table next to the couch. He could see her huddled over, hands clutching her abdomen.

  “Hurts,” she said.

  Damn. He knelt on the floor beside the couch, his mind scrambling to retrieve what he’d learned in the medic classes he’d taken when he first joined the Archer City Police Force. Childbirth had been briefly included.

  “As I said before, I’m Dan,” he told her. “Dan Sorenson. Can you tell me your name?”

  She looked directly at him, seeming to actually see him for the first time. “Fay. Fay Merriweather. Thanks for—” she fluttered her hands in the air “—taking me in and all.”

  He smiled at her. “Hello, Fay. Now tell me, is this the date when you expected the baby to arrive?”

  “No, it’s about two weeks early.”

  Dan took care not to show his relief. At least the baby wouldn’t be one of those real tiny, fragile premature babies.

  Dan culled his mind for other questions he was supposed to ask. “Fay, have you been under the care of a doctor?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “He didn’t want me to drive to Duluth. I should have listened.”

  That made two of them who wished she had. Probably three, if he included her.

  “You don’t happen to be a doctor, I suppose?” she added.

  “Sorry, no. I’m a cop.”

  “You must have delivered babies before then.” She sounded relieved.

  He nodded, with no intention of telling her it had been once only, and that the baby had more or less arrived on his own. The ambulance had shown up quickly and swept mother and child off to the hospital, relieving Dan of all responsibility.

  Fay moaned. “Here comes another contraction.”

  “I think you ought to be lying down,” he said.

  She didn’t reply for several moments, then straightened up, took a deep breath and said, “In my prenatal classes, they said to put plastic under you if you find you’re going to have an emergency delivery. Plastic and some old towels or something you can throw away after.”

  He fervently wished it already was after. “And I’ll get a blanket while I’m at it.”

  “An old one,” she called after him as he strode toward the storage cabinet in the back shed.

  He was grateful she’d warmed up enough to be coherent, because he was going to need all the help he could get. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to psych himself into confronting an armed perp than to face delivering a baby.

  Armed with a plastic drop cloth, and a stack of worn-but-clean towels, he went back and prepared the couch the way Fay had told him. He then returned to the loft and brought out an old quilt from the cedar chest. Back in the main room, he found Fay pacing slowly back and forth.

  “Ready,” he told her. “You can stretch out.”

  “Thanks. I know I’m supposed to keep active as much as possible as long as I can, but I really feel exhausted.” She settled onto the couch, arranging a throw pillow under her head, but leaving the quilt folded on the top of the couch back. Looking up at him, she said. “If I hadn’t seen your light…” Her words trailed off and she began to take deep breaths.

  “Another contraction?”

  She nodded, and he knelt beside her again, this time tentatively resting his hand on her abdomen. Through the cloth of the flannel top, it felt rigid as a board. He checked the second hand of his watch, watching until the rigidity subsided. Before he could remove his hand, something thrust against it, surprising him. Damned if the baby hadn’t kicked him. The realization made him smile. Feisty little thing.

  Fay smiled faintly in return. “I guess you felt that kick.”

  “Let me put the quilt over you.”

  “The fire is keeping me nice and warm.” She turned her head to stare into the flames. “I love wood fires.”

  He decided this might be the time to find a knife and some string, wipe them as clean as possible with alcohol and have them handy when the need arose. By the time he returned he’d made up his mind not to tell her that he’d do his best to make sure she and her baby would be okay.

  The most reassuring thing he could do for her was to keep his mouth shut about how inexperienced he really was. The more confidence she felt about his ability, the less frightened she would be. Strange how people assumed cops delivered lots of babies.

  “What happened out there? Lose your way in the storm?” he asked.

  “When it got really bad, I must have taken a wrong turn.”

  “That can happen. You’re a long way off the route to Duluth.”

  “Then the car skidded and I hit a tree,” she said. “The airbag stunned me for a bit.” She crossed her hands over her abdomen. “At least the baby seems to be all right.”

  “As long as she can kick she must be.”

  Fay raised an eyebrow. “She?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know why I said that.”

  “Most men would have said he. They all seem to want sons.”

  Since Dan didn’t want a son or a daughter, raising children in today’s world being too chancy, he didn’t comment.

  “Or else they don’t want either a boy or a girl.” Her words almost made him feel she was reading his mind, but the bitterness threading through them told him she wasn’t thinking of him at all.

  “Your—” he began, then changed w
hat he’d been about to say. Since a lot of mothers today were single parents, he wouldn’t ask about a husband. “The baby’s father?”

  “Dead.”

  “I’m sorry.” Uncomfortable now, he decided to stop asking personal questions. “We’ll need something to put the baby in once she’s born.”

  Fay smiled slightly. “She, again. I bought a baby bed, one of those you strap into a car, but that’s where it is—in the wrecked car along with other baby stuff. And mine, too.” She glanced at a window and shook her head. “You can’t possibly go out into that horrible storm. So we’ll need something temporary.”

  His gaze fastened on the handcrafted wood-box his grandfather had made to hold his logs and kindling. He rose, strode to the fireplace and dumped the contents of the box onto the floor.

  “Once I clean this up, we’ll have our temporary crib,” he said.

  “Looks fine to me. Have you thought about diapers?”

  Diapers? Naturally not. As far as he knew most babies wore disposable ones these days. Which didn’t help in the here and now. “I saw a stack of old flannel sheets in the cedar chest. I can line the wood-box with some, and I could cut up some for diapers and others for baby blankets.”

  “Good idea.”

  He handed her his watch so she could time her own contractions, while he went to fetch the sheets.

  Coming back, he cleaned the wood-box carefully and lined it with a flannel sheet, using two more folded for a pad at the bottom. While he worked he kept glancing worriedly at Fay. Finished, he settled the padded box near the fireplace for the heat to warm it, trying to imagine a newborn baby nestling inside. He couldn’t.

  Shaking his head, he brought the flannel sheets he meant to cut up back to where Fay lay on the couch, pulled a chair over and sat next to her. He started to ask her if she was okay, then noticed that, her face tense, she was timing a contraction. Finally she sighed and relaxed.