Daddy Wanted

Jennifer pushed out of the chair, realizing that she was completely out of her element here. “I—I shouldn’t have disturbed you. I know you’re probably very busy and—”

“Please,” he said, “don’t go. I’ve actually been thinking about you.”

She slowly lowered herself back into the chair. “Did you know Lucy is going home from the hospital today?”

“Really?” Ryan asked. “I haven’t talked to Ben since that day in San Antonio. I took the blood tests, then came home the next day. Carolyn called me later in the week to tell me they found a match. I’m glad Lucy’s doing well.”

“Carolyn and Ben got married,” she commented. “They were engaged once, a long time ago, and the case brought them back together.” She drew a deep breath. “Kind of like it brought us together.”

“Right,” he murmured.

A long silence spun out around them as Jennifer scrambled for another topic. “How are things going with your parents? Have they explained everything?”

“They’ve tried to rationalize their side of the story,” Ryan replied, “but I’m not really interested in hearing their excuses. The bottom line is they paid ten thousand dollars for me in a supermarket parking lot. That’s all I really need to know.”

“They’re your parents,” she said, distractedly fiddling with the strap of her purse. “They’ve loved you for twenty-seven years. I think that should count for something.”

“Thanks to them, I’ll never know my real parents…the Mulhollands. They’re both dead.” He met her gaze squarely. “Did Rhonda and Jeffrey ask you to come here? Or are you here for Ben and Lucy?”

Jennifer shook her head. “I have a…personal reason for coming.” She clasped her hands on her lap and drew a steadying breath. “Remember, at the hospital, you told me that if there was ever anything you could do for me, I should just ask?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a client who needs a kidney transplant,” he teased.

His smile warmed her blood and made her heart beat a little faster. Asking for a kidney would probably sound less ridiculous than her own request. Was she crazy to think he’d agree? Maybe it was all the hormones racing through her body that had rendered her temporarily insane. With a silent curse, she rose to her feet, ready to make her excuses and leave. But the moment she turned toward the door, a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Jennifer covered her eyes with her hand and reached back for the chair. She hadn’t eaten lunch, and with the baby, if she didn’t eat something every hour or two, she got light-headed. In a heartbeat, Ryan was out of his chair and around his desk. He grabbed her arm and slowly helped her over to the sofa. “My God, you’re as white as a sheet.”

“I—I’ll be fine,” Jennifer murmured. “I just need something to drink. A glass of juice maybe. Or a cookie.”

“Lie down,” he said, fluffing a pillow behind her. “I’ll go get you something.”

Jennifer groaned and flopped back on the pillow as he hurried out. “Why not just barf on his shoes?” she muttered. “That would get his attention.” She closed her eyes and swallowed back a wave of nausea. For most of the day, she managed to forget the implications of her pregnancy—telling her parents about the baby, preparing for childbirth, raising a child as a single mother. And then the baby would speak to her from the womb, reminding her of how radically her life had changed over the past four months. And how much it would change over the coming months.

“Ay, chica estúpida,” she murmured. “You stupid girl. How did you ever get yourself into such a mess?”

* * *

“I NEED JUICE,” Ryan said, frantically rummaging through the refrigerator in the employee lunch room. “Why don’t we have any juice?”

Ryan’s secretary stood behind him, anxious to help. “There’s cranberry juice in the vending machine,” Connie said.

“I don’t know if she likes cranberry juice. Most people prefer orange juice. Or a piece of fruit. An apple would be good.” Ryan stared at the wide array of drinks they kept to offer to guests during meetings. Designer water, pop, some kind of cold coffee drink. But no juice. “Get me the cranberry juice,” he said, gathering up the lunch bags left inside the refrigerator. “And see if we have any cookies. She wants a cookie.”

Ryan turned and hurried back to Jennifer, lunch bags clutched in his hands. There had to be something decent to eat in them. By the time he got back to his office, some of the color had returned to her face. He sat down beside her on the edge of the sofa and dropped the bags around his feet. Pressing his palm to her forehead, he scanned her features. “Are you feeling better? You don’t feel warm. It could be heat exhaustion. It’s been very hot lately.”

Jennifer opened her eyes and smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

He let his palm linger for a long moment, delighting in the silken feel of her skin beneath his fingertips, soft strands of hair brushing the back of his hand.

“I don’t have a fever,” Jennifer murmured. “I’m pregnant.”

Ryan snatched his hand away, startled by her sudden confession. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Had he heard her right? Had she just told him she was pregnant? “You’re…”

“Pregnant,” she repeated, glancing at his hand, which still hung in mid-air. “I don’t have the plague. I’m going to have a baby. And it’s not contagious.”

He coughed softly to cover his embarrassment. “I—I’m sorry. It’s just that…well, you don’t look pregnant.” In truth, he felt a little guilty for his fantasies, considering her condition. It was like lusting after a nun!

She stared down at her stomach with a morose expression. “I am. Nearly five months.” Pushing up on her elbow, she stared at him. “I haven’t told many people. It’s hard to say the words.”

“And—and your husband? How does he feel about this?”

Jennifer giggled. “And here I thought you were so smooth,” she teased.

“I’ve got a pregnant woman swooning in my office,” Ryan retorted. “And no juice to be had. Give me a break.”

“I don’t have a husband.” She ran her hand over her stomach, a barely noticeable swell the only evidence of her admission. “I don’t even have a boyfriend. The father, he doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby, and I think that’s for the best.”

Connie appeared at the door with a can of cranberry juice and an orange soda. He pushed to his feet and grabbed the drinks, then returned to Jennifer’s side. “Here,” he said, offering her the juice. “Try this.”

She took a long sip, watching him over the rim of the can. “I’m really sorry,” she said, licking her lips. “I shouldn’t have come. This is my life, my problem, and I’m going to have to deal with it on my own. I shouldn’t have brought you into it.”

“You got a little dizzy in my office,” Ryan said. “That’s all.”

“That’s not all,” she said, a contrite expression suffusing her face. “I came here to ask a favor—a favor I probably have no right to ask.”

“Ask,” he said. “What do you need? Money? A place to stay? Some things for the baby? Whatever I can do.”

“I need a fiancé,” she said. “I need you.”

This time Ryan was taken completely off guard. His jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “What?”

“My parents don’t know yet,” she said, the words tumbling out. “And I think it would be easier for them to accept if they thought I hadn’t been completely stupid. I need a fiancé, someone I can take home and introduce as the father of my baby. It won’t be a long-term job. After a few months, we’ll have a fight and then you’ll just disappear from my life. Please don’t feel any obligation. Like I said, this is my responsibility and I’m going to—”

“I’ll do it,” Ryan said softly.

“—have to deal with this sooner or later. It’s just that I come from a very strict Catholic family, and when Diego and Carmen find out they’ll—”

“I said, I’ll do it,” Ryan repeated.

The rest of her words froze in her throat and she blinked, as if she weren’t certain she’d heard him right. A slow smile curled the corners of her mouth. “You will? You’ll pretend to be my fiancé?”

“Yes,” he replied.

With a squeal of delight, Jennifer threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “¡Gracias! ¡Muchísimas gracias! Le estoy muy agradecida.”

Ryan drew back and looked down into her eyes, which were sparkling with excitement and relief. “Con mucho gusto,” he said. “You’re welcome.” Without thinking, he took her face between his palms and dropped a gentle kiss on her mouth. As soon as their lips met, he realized his mistake. But the urge to kiss her had been too much to deny and he couldn’t regret his actions.

Slowly, he pulled back, prepared to see indignation, perhaps even anger in her eyes. But her wide gaze showed only surprise—and a tiny hint of curiosity. Ryan was tempted to kiss her again, to see if she’d respond. After all, they were engaged, weren’t they? But his better judgment won out. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” Jennifer interrupted, placing a finger on his lips. “It’s my fault. My family always tells me I’m too impetuous. I shouldn’t have kissed you first. I have to learn to think before I act.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “After all, that’s what got me into this trouble in the first place.”

“But that’s what attracted me to you in the first place,” Ryan teased in a feeble attempt to lighten the moment. “Your passion and fire. The way you jump into a situation without even considering the consequences. I’m usually so careful and conservative. It’s our differences that made me fall in love with you.”

“In love?”

He grinned and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “I’m just practicing. Do I sound convincing?”

“Practicing for what?”

“For when I meet your parents,” he said, turning to pick up one of the lunch bags. He plucked out a sandwich bag filled with Oreos and handed her one. “I’m sure they’re going to wonder how we met. We should have a story worked out.”

Jennifer frowned. “I never thought that far ahead. I guess I didn’t expect you to agree to my plan.”

“See, you are too impetuous. Now, when is this meeting going to take place?”

“I’m supposed to go home to El Paso on Friday afternoon. This Saturday is my sister’s quinceañera. Her fifteenth birthday. It’s a big deal in our culture, kind of like your sweet sixteen and a debutante ball rolled into one. There’s a mass Saturday afternoon and a huge party with dancing and food on Saturday night. All the family will be there, my aunts and uncles and cousins. I figure my parents will be so distracted with the party plans, they won’t have time to focus on my news.”

“So when do we practice? We should at least get our story straight.”

“How about dinner at my house?” Jennifer suggested. “Tomorrow night. I’ll make pozole. It’s my specialty. Actually, it’s the only thing I know how to cook. It’s kind of like a thick soup made of pork and hominy.”

Ryan forced a smile. Hominy? He couldn’t say that he’d ever tasted hominy. “Sounds good. I’ll be there.”

Jennifer swung her legs to the floor and Ryan helped her to her feet, wrapping her delicate fingers in his hand. “I’ll drive you home,” he offered.

She tugged her hand from his, then shook her head. “I have my car. I’ll be fine. I just needed something in my stomach.”

“What about lunch?” Ryan asked. “Why don’t you let me buy you lunch?”

“Roy and Ralph need me back at the office. I’m working on a big parental abduction case and I’ve got a lot of work to do before I leave for the weekend.”

Ryan didn’t want to let her go and searched for any excuse to get her to stay. But in the end, he accompanied Jennifer to the lobby and watched as she walked out. Then he strolled back to his office, stepped inside and closed the door. A satisfied smile quirked the corners of his mouth.

Once again, Jennifer Rodriguez had barged into his life and turned it upside down. Only this time, he planned to make sure she stayed a little longer.

* * *

“MAMÁ, I promise, I’ll be there in time for Tía Yolanda’s arrival. We’re leaving right around lunchtime and we’ll be there before dinner Friday night.” She reached for the spoon and gave the pozole a stir, then bent down and adjusted the heat.

“We?” her mother asked. “Who is this we?”

Jennifer drew a deep breath, all too familiar with her mother’s nosy nature. “I’m bringing a friend home.”

“Ah, you’re bringing that sweet Elena? That girl from your building? I like her. She’s a good girl. She listens to her mother.”

“No, Mamá, not Elena. I’m bringing a…a friend. A friend who’s a…boy. A man, actually. A man—I mean, a boyfriend. I’m bringing home my boyfriend, all right?” A long silence echoed over the phone lines between El Paso and Odessa. “Mamá?”

“Who is this boy you’re bringing? What’s his name? Who are his parents?”

“He’s not a boy, Mamá. He’s a man. His name is Ryan. Ryan Madison. He’s very nice and very successful. Papi will love him.”

“Madison?”

“Yes, Mamá, Madison. Not Ruiz, not Hernandez, not Castillo. Madison, like the fourth president of our country.”

“Does he go to church?”

The doorbell rang and Jennifer glanced down at the dish towel tied around her waist. “Mamá, that’s him at the door. I’m cooking dinner for us tonight. You can interrogate him on his religious beliefs when we get there.”

“Well, I’ll tell your Papi that he isn’t in danger of losing his daughter,” Carmen said.

“And why is that?”

“Because once this man tastes your cooking, he won’t be back.”

“Goodbye, Mamá. I’ll see you on Friday evening. We’ll see you.” She dropped the phone in the cradle, then hurried over to the table and adjusted the colorful hand-painted Mexican stoneware on the bright tablecloth. She reached for the matches to light the candles, then decided candles might not send the right message.

After all, this agreement they had was strictly between friends. But they really weren’t friends yet. Perhaps acquaintances was a better description. But then, they were more than—

The doorbell rang again and Jennifer threw the dish towel onto the kitchen counter next to the stove and hurried to the door. At the last second, she raked her fingers through her hair and smoothed her palms over the skirt of her new dress. Though it wasn’t a maternity dress, it did have an empire waist. Her clothes had suddenly stopped fitting yesterday, as if she’d swallowed a basketball for breakfast, and she’d been forced to buy something new. Pasting a smile on her face, she pulled the door open.

Jennifer’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. She knew he was handsome—in a suit, in faded jeans, it didn’t really matter. Tonight, he wore immaculately pressed khakis and a pale-blue cotton polo shirt that set off his dark tan. His hair was still damp from a shower and it looked like he’d combed it with his fingers. “Hi,” she murmured, her knees going soft.

He pulled a bouquet of sunflowers from behind his back and held them out. “Hello, mi prometido. I’m sorry I’m a little late. I got tied up at the site.”

Jennifer laughed and took the flowers from his hand. “Come in. And it’s promitida. That’s the feminine form of fiancée. You’re my prometido.”

Ryan shrugged. “My Spanish is pretty lousy, isn’t it? I’ve been trying to learn. That way, when the guys on the drilling site are talking about me, I’ll know what they’re saying.”

“Come. Sit down. Dinner is almost ready.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he closed the apartment door behind him.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing a vase from an end table near the window. “No more dizzy spells.”

“Did you see your doctor?”

Jennifer shook her head, secretly pleased by his concern. “No, it’s nothing. I just have to be more careful about how I eat. Now, sit down and I’ll get you a drink. Would you like a beer?”

He nodded, slowly sat down, then frowned. “Do you smell that?”

“That’s my pozole,” Jennifer said proudly.

Ryan stood and stepped around her. “No, I really think something is—” He cursed and hurried over to the kitchen, where flames rose from the stove.

Jennifer screamed and hurried after him. “¡Ay, Dios mío! I’ll call the fire department. No, there’s a fire extinguisher… .” She paused, trying to remember where she’d put it. “Throw some water on it!”

Ryan calmly grabbed a stockpot from the rack over the breakfast bar and dropped it on top of the burning dish towel. Then he grabbed a saucepan and filled it with water, holding out his arm to keep her back. “It’ll go out in a few seconds.”

When he was satisfied that the fire was out, Jennifer hurried to the stove and pulled the cover off the pozole. But in her haste, she forgot to use a pot holder and the lid burned her fingers. She cried out and let it clatter to the floor, where it hit her big toe, which was sticking out of her sandal. The kitchen filled with the smell of scorched hominy and burned terry cloth as Jennifer’s eyes filled with tears.

Once again, the baby inside her seemed to hold the controls over her emotions, turning her from a babbling idiot to a blubbering fool in the blink of an eye. She couldn’t stop the tears from coming even though she wasn’t sure why she was crying. It wasn’t the ruined meal or her stinging fingers or even the smoke stain on her kitchen ceiling. It was…everything.

Jennifer buried her face in her hands and slid down to sit on the kitchen floor. A few moments later, she felt Ryan beside her, his fingers stroking her temple. “It’s all right,” he said. “The fire’s out. No damage done.”

She looked up at him through her tears and a giggle slipped from her throat. “I don’t care about the fire or the food. That’s the least of my worries. I’m such a mess. I can’t seem to control my emotions. I start crying at the drop of a hat. My life is in chaos and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to set it right.”

“I know how you feel,” Ryan said, tipping her chin up and capturing her gaze with his.

“Yeah, I guess you do.”

He grabbed her hand and gave her fingers a squeeze. “Why don’t we sit down on the sofa and relax. I’ll call for a pizza and we’ll get to work. You can make pozole for me again some other night.”

He gently helped her to her feet and led her over to the sofa, then returned to the kitchen to order the pizza. Ryan found a beer in the refrigerator and brought her a glass of orange juice. Then he settled on the sofa beside her, his arm draped over the back. “So, where do we start?”

“Well, since I know pretty much everything about you, we should start with me.”

“How do you know about me?” he asked after taking a sip of his beer.

“I did a pretty extensive investigation before I came to see you at the drilling site. A bachelor’s and master’s degree from Texas A and M, dean’s list, graduated cum laude, bought your first well with money you made in the stock market, built your business into a multimillion—”

“All right, all right,” Ryan said. “Let’s start with your family.”

“My papi, Diego, came from Mexico when he was fifteen. He worked picking vegetables in California until he found a job in a factory. He got his high school diploma going to night classes. He lived the American dream, working his way up, saving his pennies, until he and my mother bought a small electronics factory in El Paso. Now it’s huge and he makes components for the auto industry. I think you’ll have a lot in common.”

“And your mother?”

Jennifer slid down to the end of the couch and stretched her feet out in front of her, leaning back onto a throw pillow. “Mamá. She’ll be a little tougher. Her name is Carmen and she’s the glue that holds our family together. She’s lived in this country nearly all her life and she has very high expectations for her children. We all must go to college, find a good job and marry a nice Catholic.”

“Well, that will be a problem then,” Ryan said. “I’m not a very good Catholic. I haven’t been to church in ages, although I used to be an altar boy. That should count for something shouldn’t it?”

“It doesn’t make a difference since we really aren’t getting married,” Jennifer said with a smile.

He slipped her sandals off her feet and tucked her bare toes beneath his thigh. “Brothers and sisters?”

“Four. Joe is nineteen, Maria will be fifteen on Saturday, Linda is ten and Teresa is eight.”

“And Jennifer?”

“I’m twenty five,” she said. “I went to U of T in El Paso and got a degree in accounting.”

“Accounting,” he said. “Kind of an odd background for a private investigator, isn’t it?”

She sat up. “Now, there’s another problem we need to discuss. You see, my parents don’t know I’m a P.I. They think I’m an accountant for the office. I don’t think they’d approve, they wouldn’t find it respectable enough. So if the subject of my career comes up, which I’m sure it will, don’t tell them the truth.”

“I can vouch that you’re a good P.I.,” Ryan said. “Look how you tried to help Lucy. You couldn’t do something so important as an accountant, could you?”

“I guess not. It’s just that I’ve spent my life trying not to disappoint my parents and yet trying to live my own life. You don’t know the pressure of being the oldest child, the perfect little girl. I turned into a rebel at an early age.”

“You couldn’t have been that bad,” Ryan said, “to turn out so well.”

Jennifer gave him a grudging smile. “As a child, I was a tomboy. Always with tangled hair and skinned knees. In high school, I wore short skirts and ran with a fast crowd. In college, I partied a little too much. And look at me now. I was supposed to remain a virgin until I got married. Breaking that little rule will become quite obvious in another month.”

“What about the baby? How do you plan to tell them about that?” Ryan asked.

Jennifer groaned, then closed her eyes and flopped back on the pillow. “I don’t know. I was just going to wing it. Wait for the right moment and then tell them the whole thing all at once. I figured with Maria’s quinceañera and all the guests, there wouldn’t be a chance to interrogate me—or you.” She drew a shaky breath. “It’s probably going to get a little tense when we tell them about the baby and there will probably be a lot of accusations leveled at you.” Jennifer sat up and looked at him. “You can back out if you want. I’ll understand.”

He idly rubbed her leg, his palm sliding from her ankle along her calf and back again. Delicious sensations skittered over her skin at his touch. Though they barely knew each other, the action seemed perfectly natural. After all, he was her fiancé—at least for the next few months.

Still, it felt good to have a man pay attention to her. She’d been so lonely these past months, dealing with her pregnancy all by herself, wondering if she could handle so many changes on her own, frightened of what the future held. She felt safer when Ryan was near.

For the rest of the evening, they traded details of their lives and made up a few memories of their own—the night they met, their first kiss, the special spot where Ryan asked her to marry him, the first time they heard the baby’s heartbeat. And when they’d exhausted every subject and eaten the last piece of pizza, Jennifer walked Ryan to the door.

He bent closer and brushed a kiss on her cheek and then promised to be ready by noon on Friday. After she closed the door behind him, Jennifer reached up and touched her cheek, finding it still warm from the contact. She closed her eyes and sighed. Though it had been a nice kiss, she couldn’t help but wish that he’d kissed her like he had the previous day, his lips warm on hers, her face cupped between his palms.

For the first time since she’d thought of this preposterous plan, she actually believed it might work. With Ryan’s help, she felt as if she could accomplish anything. And it was clear he was a kind and charming man. How could her parents not fall in love with him? She already—

Jennifer sucked in a sharp breath and pushed the words from her brain. Yes, he was a wonderful man, the sort of man she might imagine spending her life with. But when she’d decided to have this baby, she’d also decided to raise it alone. She had her career and her own life and she’d worked hard at independence. She wasn’t about to give that all up now just because some guy had been nice to her.