Accidental Family (3 page)

“You didn’t have to come all the way to Cooper’s Corner,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and even. She’d let him upset her enough already. “You could have just called me and asked your questions over the telephone.”

He lifted a skeptical brow. “And give you a chance to run away?”

Her jaw tightened. “I hate to disappoint you, Alan, but I don’t scare that easily. Even if this is your baby, you don’t have any claim to it. I was told at the Orr Clinic that all sperm donors are required to sign a release relinquishing parental rights.”

“That may be true,” he countered. “But I never signed a release because I never intended my sperm to be donated to anyone.”

“Then why did you go there in the first place?”

“Personal reasons,” he said in a clipped voice. “Why did you go there, Rowena? You’re a beautiful woman. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just bring a sperm donor home for the night instead of traveling all the way to Toronto?”

Of all the nerve.
“Personal reasons,” she said, echoing his response. “And I’m not ready to accept the fact that you are the father of this baby. I want proof.”

He arched a dark brow. “What kind of proof?”

“I don’t know,” she exclaimed, wishing her head would stop spinning. Just a few moments ago they’d been chatting about books and the curl in his hair. “Something that proves you’re the father of my baby. Like a paternity test.”

“No problem.” He reached for his wallet, then pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “My cellular phone number is on there, so you can reach me anytime, day or night. I’ll take the test whenever and wherever you want.”

“How about Siberia?” she quipped, pocketing the card without looking at it.

He gave her a tight smile. “That would only delay the inevitable. For now, I think you should assume that I am the father.”

She shook her head, tilting her chin up a notch. “I don’t think either one of us should assume anything. Especially since we already know the Orr Fertility Clinic is prone to making mistakes. The father of my baby could be anyone.”

He arched a dark brow. “And you take comfort in that thought?”

She tried not to flinch, but he’d hit a nerve. Despite her shock at finding the father of her baby in her barbershop, she couldn’t deny that part of her was relieved to finally know his identity. But at what cost? At least an anonymous sperm donor meant no one could interfere in her life. No one could force her child to go through the emotional torment she’d endured while growing up.

Alan didn’t say anything, just stood there watching her. She met his gaze, determined not to look away. He seemed formidable, but he must have a weakness somewhere. Everyone did. Could she find it? And if she did, would she have the nerve to use it to her advantage? Even for the sake of her baby?

“There is another possibility I didn’t consider,” he said at last, his gaze moving over her in a way that brought a hot blush to her cheeks.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “I realize this is none of my business, but if you were involved with another man last autumn...” He let his voice trail off, his meaning clear to both of them.

She considered lying, but somehow she knew Alan still wouldn’t back off. If she claimed to be in a relationship, he’d have even more questions about why she went to the clinic for the insemination procedure, and the truth would eventually come out anyway. “There is no man in my life.”

He nodded, his face grim. “Then I am the father.”

“Maybe,” she replied. “I think it would be better to wait until we receive the test results. If you’re not the father, then we have nothing to talk about.”

He shook his head. “I’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to face bad news and deal with it head-on. Believe me, Rowena, I’m not any happier about this situation than you are. I’m sure as hell not ready to be a father. But I know we can find a solution to our problem.”

Problem.
It was the second time he’d used that word, and it raked against her nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. How dare he come here and lay claim to her baby. A baby he obviously didn’t want. A fierce protectiveness enveloped her, shaking her to the very core. She loved this baby. And she’d do anything to protect it. “Exactly how do you intend to do that?”

“I know neither one of us is happy about this situation,” he began. “But I’m hoping we can come to some kind of understanding that will satisfy us both.”

“I’d be ecstatic if you’d just go back to Toronto.”

“I will as soon as we settle this matter.” He reached into the front of his jacket. “You’re about four months along, right?”

“Right,” she replied, his words making her a little uneasy. Why did he care how far along she was? And why the hell was he pulling out his checkbook?

“I know a good doctor you can go to in Williamstown,” he continued. “I’m willing to pay all expenses, along with a little extra for all your trouble.”

Trouble.
That was definitely the right word to describe Alan Rand. Along with condescending, overbearing and conceited. She hoped those traits weren’t hereditary.

“That isn’t necessary,” she said tightly.

“I insist.” He flipped open his checkbook. “I’ll write you a check right now to cover the initial expenses.”

Apprehension filled her. He’d told her he wasn’t ready to be a father. But did he actually intend to bribe her into making that a reality?

Rowena sat back in the chair and watched as he pulled a silver pen out of his pocket, then scribbled out an amount. He’d obviously assumed from her job at the barbershop that she didn’t have much money. Her anger ebbed, temporarily overridden by a sort of morbid fascination. She wondered what the going rate for getting rid of a
problem
was these days.

“Here you go,” he said, holding the check out to her.

She stood to take it from him, looking at the amount. The number of zeroes in it impressed her.

“As you can see, I’m willing to pay my fair share,” he said.

“That won’t be necessary.” She ripped the check in half, then tore it again.

“What are you doing?” Alan exclaimed, his brow furrowed in confusion.

She let the pieces flutter to the floor. “Turning down your generous offer.”

“You want more money?” he exclaimed.

She rose to her feet, her protective instincts coming on full force. “No. I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need your money, Alan. No amount of money could make me even consider terminating this pregnancy.”

His eyes widened. “Wait a minute,” he interjected, holding up both hands. “You don’t understand....”

But she wasn’t about to let him bully her anymore. She’d learned the hard way that it only gave men like this a greater license to harass.

Rowena advanced on him and saw his glance fall to the scissors she still held in her hands. “I think it’s time for you to leave now.”

“Let’s be rational,” he said, backing toward the door.

“I’m not feeling too rational at the moment,” she replied, still advancing. He was a big man, but he’d threatened her child and he’d awakened some primitive instinct inside her that wouldn’t be denied.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said, tripping over the threshold as he stumbled out the door.

“You’re the one who made the mistake, Mr. Rand,” she said, one hand gripping the edge of the door. “I want this baby and I intend to keep this baby. Even if its father’s gene pool could have used some chlorinating!”

Then she slammed the door in his face.

CHAPTER FOUR

H
E
’
D
BLOWN
IT
.

Alan stared at the door of the barbershop, tempted to pound on it until she let him back inside. But he knew Rowena was too furious at the moment to listen to reason. He shook his head as he turned and headed for his car. Alan had intended to make a show of good faith with that check and his recommendation of a respected obstetrician. Instead, she believed he wanted her to terminate the pregnancy.

“Mr. Charming strikes again,” he muttered, his breath coming out in frosty puffs of air as he slid behind the wheel of his Ford Mustang. He replayed their conversation over in his mind as he drove to Twin Oaks, wincing when he remembered some of the things he’d said. What the hell had gotten into him?

But he knew the answer.
Rowena.
His tongue had started turning somersaults the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Hell, he could hardly think straight around her, much less negotiate their touchy situation. So instead of telling her he simply wanted to be a father to their baby, he’d come on like some big shot and tried to buy her compliance.

Big mistake.

One he definitely needed to rectify. The only question was how. From the sparks he’d seen in those amethyst eyes, she’d rather stab him with her scissors than speak to him again. He’d gone into that barbershop expecting to find a woman he could impress with his stature and big-city sophistication. But he’d severely underestimated her. Rowena Dahl was a mature, intelligent, witty woman. And as much as he hated to admit it, he found those traits even more seductive than her beautiful face and luscious figure.

Alan parked outside Twin Oaks Bed and Breakfast, then walked up the path lit by a pair of wrought-iron carriage lamps. Once inside, he ignored the amorous couples gathered around the crackling blaze in the huge stone fireplace and took the stairs two at a time to his room. He had his cellular phone out before the door closed behind him. He dialed Brad’s number, then swore softly when he heard the busy signal buzzing in his ear.

A father.
He was going to be a father. The shock of it still unnerved him. This wasn’t the way Alan had planned it. He wanted a family—someday. But in the traditional way. With a wife. A big house somewhere in the suburbs of Toronto. Perhaps, if he ever learned to swim, even a cabin up at Lake Temagami—like the Haleys.

Alan redialed his lawyer’s phone number, only to hear a busy signal again. He carried the cell phone to the window and looked into the black, starless night. Tiny lights dotted the ski slopes, outlining the runs. He could teach his child to ski. Sign him up for a hockey team. Or her, if it was a girl. As the reality slowly sank in, he realized there was so much he wanted to do.

If he was given the chance.

He turned away from the window and walked to the hearth, bending to place another log on the fire. A few moments later, a blaze flared up and Alan held out his hands to warm them. The flames reminded him of the amethyst fire he’d seen in Rowena’s eyes when she’d torn up his check.

Damn, she was beautiful.

That was his first mistake. He’d let his attraction to her distract him from his goal. Something he couldn’t afford to let happen again. Alan needed to focus on what really mattered—the baby. He might have screwed up tonight, but that didn’t mean he was going to turn tail and meekly back down from his rights as a father.

Taking a seat by the fireplace, he dialed Brad’s home number for a third time, gratified when he finally heard it ringing.

A deep male voice sounded on the other end of the line. “Hello?”

“I found Rowena Dahl,” Alan said without preamble. “She is pregnant.”

Brad breathed a long sigh over the line. “So what is she like?”

A hellcat who could rip out a man’s heart with one glance.
“Let’s just say she’s not at all what I expected.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Good question. “I’m not sure.”

“Do you still want to pursue your rights as the father of this baby?”

“Absolutely.”

“It won’t be easy,” Brad informed him. “Especially with you a Canadian citizen and Rowena living in the United States. I’m not even sure which country would have jurisdiction over the case.”

“I don’t care how difficult it is or how expensive,” Alan said firmly. “I have to do this, Brad. I intend to be part of my baby’s life.”

Brad didn’t need to ask him why. As a child, Alan had once overheard the Haleys refer to George Rand as the invisible man. Maybe that’s why they’d gone out of their way to make Alan feel like a part of their family. Inviting him to spend a week with them at Lake Temagami and trying to help him overcome his fear of water. His father might not care about him, but Bradford Haley, Sr., had shown him the way a good father should act. The way Alan intended to care for his child.

“Okay,” Brad said, resignation in his voice. “How do you want to handle this?”

“I want to be the one to make the first move,” Alan replied. “Catch her off guard.”

“I can do that, but these kind of fertility cases are new and messy. It could literally take years, Alan. Are you sure this can’t be settled amicably between you?”

His mind flashed to her slamming the door in his face. “Positive. I didn’t handle it well.”

“Do you want liberal visitation with the baby?”

“Yes. Full summers and at least every other weekend.” He hesitated. “Any chance I could share joint custody?”

Brad whistled low. “That might be a tough one. I won’t sugarcoat it, Alan. A mother’s rights have traditionally trumped a father’s in past court cases. Unless you have something we can use that would make joint custody appear to be in the best interests of the child.”

“Like what?”

“Anything that casts a questionable light on her character. That means we’d have to start digging into her past. Like I said before—it could get messy.”

Alan rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. It was already messy. His confrontation with Rowena tonight had left him unsettled and strangely restless. “I don’t want to do that. But what choice do I have? She wants me to just walk away.”

“You still might want to consider it, Alan. I understand how you feel, but as your lawyer I have to tell you that this isn’t going to be an easy fight. It will cost money. Time. Custody battles are never fun.”

“I’m not looking for fun,” he retorted. “I’m fighting for my child. And I don’t care how much time or money it takes. I won’t stop until I win.”

* * *

E
ARLY
THE
NEXT
morning, Rowena sat in her lawyer’s office in New Ashford, her fingers twisting together in her lap. She hadn’t slept at all last night, her imagination too busy concocting the many ways that Alan Rand could screw up her baby’s life.

Now she prattled off those fears to Bobby Claymore, an older man with silver hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. Originally from Montana, he wore a black string tie, a crisp white shirt and a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots. But his gentle cowboy persona had led more than one courtroom opponent to underestimate him.

At last Bobby held up both hands to stop her in midsentence. “Whoa, there. I know you’re upset, Rowena, but take a deep breath. That’s right. Now slow down and let’s start over from the beginning.”

Rowena gave him a shaky nod, furious with Alan Rand for causing this turmoil in her life. Why did she let the man affect her this way? “I’m sorry. I’ve never been in a situation like this before.”

“I understand,” Bobby replied, then swiveled in his chair to pull a file off the shelf behind him. “I did some research when you called last week asking me to contact the Orr Fertility Clinic about their error. But it seems there’s just not much precedence for this kind of case.”

“I’m not interested in filing a lawsuit,” she clarified. “I want to know how to get this man out of my life.”

He opened the file. “Tell me again why you chose the Orr Clinic for this procedure.”

“My doctor recommended it,” she explained. “The Orr Clinic has a new procedure designed especially for women over thirty-five who have difficulty conceiving. When my trip to the Reproductive Center in New York was unsuccessful, he told me about the positive results they were having in Toronto. The Orr Clinic sent me a catalog of sperm donor profiles before the procedure, and I mailed back a form with my choice.”

“Which brings us to our current situation.”

She nodded. “A man showed up in my shop yesterday claiming to be the father of my baby. He said his sperm deposit at the Orr Fertility Clinic was never intended to be a donation. He also claimed he didn’t sign a release of his parental rights, either. Then he offered me a check to take care of the—” her fingers made quotation marks in the air to emphasize the last word “—
problem.
”

Bobby leaned back in his chair. “Did he threaten you in any way when he asked you to terminate the pregnancy?”

“No,” she said slowly. “In fact, he never actually came out and told me that’s what he wanted me to do. I just assumed that’s what he meant. Can I get a restraining order against him to keep him out of my life?”

“I’m afraid it might be more complicated than that.” Bobby took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with a tissue. “If this man wants you to terminate the pregnancy, then he doesn’t have a legal leg to stand on. But if he wants more...”

“More?” Rowena echoed, trepidation filling her.

Bobby hesitated. “I’m intrigued by the fact he came to Cooper’s Corner in person to find you.”

“I told you,” she said. “He wanted to discover if I was pregnant.”

Her attorney nodded. “I know. But he could have accomplished that any number of ways. The fact remains that if he is the biological father of your baby, he’s already taking a proactive role. If the pregnancy continues, he might want to assert his rights as a parent.”

She blinked. “Can he do that?”

“He’ll have to go to court and prove paternity first. Of course, that’s only the beginning. Just establishing jurisdiction will be a lengthy process.”

“He’s already agreed to a paternity test,” Rowena told him. “I called my doctor last night to set it up. But he said the only way we can conduct a paternity test before the baby is born is if I undergo an amniocentesis. That isn’t possible until the fifth month, and even then it carries some risks.”

“Risks you aren’t willing to take,” Bobby ventured.

“That’s right.”

“So it’s possible we won’t know if Mr. Rand is the father until after the baby’s birth. When is your due date, by the way?”

“In early July.” She licked dry lips. “But I don’t want Alan Rand’s shadow hanging over us for the next five months.”

“If Mr. Rand is the father,” Bobby mused, “you should be able to collect child support payments.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want his money or anything else from him. My parents divorced when I was four years old. I lost count of the number of times they took each other to court over support payments and visitation rights.”

Compassion shone in Bobby’s faded brown eyes. “I understand. Unfortunately, I’ve seen it happen too many times. How can parents be so blind to the fact that the one they’re hurting the most is their own child?”

Rowena knew her pregnancy hormones had kicked in when his words brought a flood of memories washing down on her. She usually kept her past to herself, but he needed to know how important protecting this baby from a nasty, prolonged custody suit was to her.

“I know exactly what you mean,” she replied. “I became a weapon my parents could use against each other. My father would give me presents for my birthday and Christmas that he knew my mother didn’t approve of for a little girl. And she would plan these exotic vacations for the two of us during the summer, then lay the blame on him if I couldn’t go because of the visitation order.”

Bobby didn’t murmur sympathetic platitudes, he just sat back in his chair and listened to her.

“Their tug-of-war kept on escalating as I was growing up. One time my father was late bringing me home from a weekend visit with him, and my mother called the police. He never forgave her for that, and from that day on he would circle the block around the house each time he brought me home, trying to make her worry that he’d really done it. One time we circled the same block for an hour.”

Bobby shook his head, and she knew that as a family lawyer, he’d probably heard worse.

“They got so caught up in their battle with each other,” she continued, “that they had no idea what it was doing to me. The odd thing was that I knew they both really did love me.”

“Damn strange way of showing it,” he said at last.

“I know,” she replied with a shadow of a smile. “Sometimes I think that’s what made it so hard. When I was a teenager, I started to dread the holidays. I knew my parents would make me choose who I wanted to spend them with, and I’d tear myself up with guilt trying to decide who I would hurt the least with my choice. I was determined to make them both happy while they were equally determined to make each other miserable. They loved me, but they hated each other more.”

“Is it any better now that you’re an adult?”

She nodded. “Yes, but I hardly see them anymore. They both remarried. My father lives in California, and my mother moved to Brazil with her husband, who has a business there. In some ways I feel as alone as I did growing up.”

His brown eyes twinkled. “Well, you won’t be alone much longer.”

“I know,” she said, love for her baby welling up inside her. “But I never want my child to go through what I did. If Alan Rand is the biological father and pursues visitation rights, my baby’s life will be in chaos—shuttled back and forth across the border of two countries for the next eighteen years.”

A gentle knock sounded on the door, then it opened and Bobby Claymore’s secretary stole in silently to place a stack of mail on his desk.

“Thanks, Hildy,” he murmured before she closed the door behind her. He gave the stack of envelopes a quick glance, then pulled one from the middle. “Looks like that paternity test might not be necessary.”