Their Accidental Baby

She bit her lip and reconsidered her options. Nope, a repeat performance of her woman-in-jeopardy act was not the solution.

There was a sound from the bedroom for the third time. Not anything breaking, not the rough voices of thugs with panty hose on their heads complaining about a nylon allergy. Just a soft sound that could very well come from a cat.

To make sure she had an escape route, Laura opened the front door wide, and propped it in place with a shoe. She backed all the way out of the apartment and stood fidgeting, wondering what to do. Check out the situation herself? Or call the police, after all? She’d have to borrow a neighbor’s phone for that. There was only one phone in apartment, and it was in the bedroom.

She swore to buy a cell phone first thing tomorrow. Sometimes it seemed she was the only person on the planet without one.

“Everything okay?” Justin was at his door, arms crossed and a rather suspicious look on his face as he stared at her with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He did not deserve those good looks, she thought, not for the first time. In fact, it was quite irritating, the way she almost felt compelled to sigh in admiration every time she got a look at that chiseled face and the wavy brown hair that looked even softer than hair in conditioner commercials.

And his eyes…Nope, she wouldn’t even go there. She didn’t want to think about his eyes. Thankfully she didn’t often see them up close. Those dark eyes framed by mile-long lashes reminded her of chocolate, and everybody knew chocolate was a sinful sensual indulgence. They could distract you even when there was potentially a homicidal maniac inside her apartment.

Definitely not good for you.

Justin shook his head and walked closer. “You’re white as a sheet. And you’re not talking. What’s up?”

Laura stared into chocolate-brown eyes as he approached. Yep. Delicious. His brow was creased in worry, but there was also a tiny smile on his lips, and she drew her brows together in a frown, trying to decode it. Was this a friendly neighbor smile, or a “women!” smirk? Was he remembering a hysterical woman with her arms wrapped around his neck, shrieking panicked nothings in his ear, doing a “helpless female” imitation like something from the eighteenth century?

Justin stopped right in front of her. “Laura, are you sure you’re not sick? I should call a doctor.”

Her spine stiffened and she straightened, giving him an excellent facsimile of a carefree smile. The corners of her lips almost moved and all. “No, thank you, everything’s fine.” He didn’t move away, so she turned back to her apartment. “Really, I’m fine. Thanks for your concern.”

Justin’s gaze searched her face. He didn’t look happy, but shrugged and turned around, vanishing inside his own apartment and leaving Laura alone with her predicament. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt a bit better, knowing her neighbor was home. All she had to do was scream, and he’d hear it through the thin walls.

She took a determined step forward ending up on the right side of the wide open door.

Of course it wasn’t a burglar, she soothed herself. Why was she so quick to panic? She’d probably left her bedroom window open again, and Angel had decided to check if tuna was still on the menu. The cat lived somewhere close by; those green eyes and white whiskers made a regular appearance in the street. So far, Laura’s withering glares had seemed to have done the intended job of letting the cat know she was less than welcome on a repeat visit. But perhaps the temptation of tuna had been too much for the creature.

She wouldn’t again let a curious cat chase her into Justin’s arms. She would march in there and chase the cat out of there herself. This time, Angel could be the one seeking shelter with Justin.

Grabbing an umbrella, just in case the trespasser was more menacing than the furry little beast, she double-checked that the front door was still open as an escape—either for herself or for the cat—and crept toward the bedroom. The door was half-closed, and a slight draft confirmed her suspicions of having left the window open.

Muscles tense and both hands clutching the umbrella, she peeked inside the room. Everything looked just as she’d left it, the afternoon sun illuminating the dusty surfaces all too well: the rumpled bed she hadn’t made, the overflowing bookcase and the overturned crate that served as her night table.

No burglar. And no cat.

She left the umbrella against the wall, straightened up and pushed the door fully open. All this for nothing. That sound she’d heard must have been something from outside, or maybe the window creaking.

She stalked inside the room and sat down on the bed. That was that. Just as well she hadn’t panicked. Much.

Sitting down had been a mistake, she realized. Now she’d have to stand up again, if only to close the front door. She sighed, postponing the ordeal, and idly contemplated the upturned crate with its miniature mountain of books and paper. Okay, it was high time to get a proper nightstand. She could afford it. She could afford a lot of things now, and it was time to stop worrying about every dime.

Then something moved just behind her on the bed and before she’d even acknowledged the movement she was standing pressed against the wall, not realizing she was screaming until her throat hurt and the screeching sound echoed off the wall and exploded in her own ears.

Justin grabbed a dish of leftover pizza out of the fridge and put it in the microwave. Irritation was making him edgy, and he wasn’t sure why he was reheating pizza right now. He wasn’t even hungry.

His neighbor needed a baby-sitter. She practically lived at her office, dragged herself home late at night looking like a ghost on a hunger strike, and when at home she didn’t seem to do much more than sleep. There was hardly ever a sound from her place, even through the thin wall.

Except when she showered. Her bathroom was just on the other side of his shower tiles. She took long showers. They sometimes coincided with his. In his weaker moments, he stood there in his own shower and lived every moment of hers. He had this crazy urge to wash that long brown hair for her. Maybe this was what they called a fetish. Maybe he was a shampoo-and-conditioner fetishist.

She was also thin, and getting thinner. No wonder, if she used her breaks to shop for clothing, instead of eating.

Women!

He stared at the pizza, turning in slow circles inside the humming microwave. It would be neighborly to bring over some food, wouldn’t it? Wasn’t it the gesture of a friendly old lady, living next door, concerned for the welfare of her neighbor? It wouldn’t smack of a secret admirer who’d spent too many hours listening to her shower, would it?

He grimaced at himself, as familiar visions of soapsuds and glistening skin intruded on his altruistic thoughts. In the last few months he’d come up with ideas for all sorts of interesting things to do with a washcloth.

He’d have to adjust his fantasies, though. The way she was losing weight, he could probably occupy himself in the shower by counting her ribs.

Justin cursed himself and yanked the microwave door open, three seconds before it was due to stop. Laura was not his type. There was vulnerability in her eyes that marked her strictly off limits to someone like him. He wasn’t a saint, but he tried not to get involved with women who expected more than he would ever want to give.

He’d just take her the damn pizza, and be done with it.

He was at the door when the scream ricocheted through the building. Adrenaline pounding through his body, he yanked the baseball bat from the umbrella stand, and half a second later was at Laura’s door.

CHAPTER TWO

IT’S just the cat, just the cat, someone chanted in her ear and she realized it was herself. She forced herself to look at the bed, expecting the white Angel to be sitting there, looking accusatory over the lack of tuna.

But no.

Laura blinked when the shape on the bed took form. It wasn’t a cat. It was bigger than a cat, not as furry, and probably wasn’t obliging enough to lick itself clean.

A baby.

She squeezed her eyes shut and counted to twenty before opening them again. Maybe stress had caught up with her. After all, she’d been working fourteen hours a day for almost two weeks now. Yes, it had to be stress. Stress working with her biological clock to create the illusion of a tiny baby sleeping in her bed. Her biological clock had probably been awakened by the unusual stimulus of a real life male in close proximity. The child had to be an illusion. For one, if it had been a real baby, it would have woken up when she screamed.

Yes. That was it. It had to be an illusion. She opened her eyes, feeling better already.

The illusion was still there.

Still sleeping. Looking very, very real, tiny nose, chubby cheeks, long lashes and all. The soft baby-snore convinced her that the infant was for real.

Illusions didn’t snore.

How could there be a baby lying in the middle of her bed? In her locked apartment? She pinched herself. If it wasn’t an illusion, perhaps it was a dream?

Nope. No such luck.

“Laura?”

Mr. Chocolate Eyes again, his voice also chocolate smooth as it snaked through the small apartment, even raised in urgent inquiry. She groaned. He must have heard her scream, and, ever gallant, come to the rescue.

“Laura?” he called again. “I heard you scream, and the door is open. I’m coming in, okay? I’m calling the police.”

She shot to her feet and out in the hallway, just as Justin barged into the apartment, body tensed for fight, cell phone in one hand, a baseball bat in the other.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying for a smile. “No need for the police. There’s no danger. I was just startled. Sorry if I scared you.”

His eyebrow rose. “The scream turned my blood to ice. What was it?”

Laura tugged at her hair, not sure herself what was going on. “There’s nothing wrong.” Exactly. There was just a strange baby lying in her bed.

“Do we have another cat burglar?”

“Haha,” she said dutifully, grinding her teeth at the reminder. “Yes. I mean, no. Not precisely.”

“Dog burglar?”

“Well, since you ask, it’s actually a baby burglar. Did you see anyone around today?”

“No, I just got home the same time as you did.” Justin slid his cell phone into his pocket. “Baby burglar? What are you talking about?”

“Someone left a baby in my apartment.”

“I see.” He left the baseball bat leaning against the wall. “Guess I won’t be needing that. You mean you’re baby-sitting?”

“Apparently. Only I have no idea whose baby it is. Come see.” Without giving him the chance to decline, she turned toward her bedroom again, relieved to hear him follow. This was too much to handle alone.

“See?” She moved around to the other side of the bed to give him an unobstructed view. She pointed at the evidence. “A baby. He was just lying there when I got home.”

Justin stared down at the sleeping intruder. “I see,” he repeated.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked impatiently, when he didn’t seem about to elaborate.

He looked at her with a crooked smile. “Well, your diagnosis is correct. It is a baby.”

“Are you always this patronizing, or is it something I bring out in you?”

He didn’t answer, but bent over the child for a closer look. “He’s okay, isn’t he?” he asked. “Just sleeping, not unconscious or anything?”

“How should I know? He was just lying there when I got home,” she said. Shock was dissipating and confusion settling in instead. “He looks fine, he’s breathing fine and everything. And he was making some sounds before.” Scaring the wits out of her, just like Angel had.

She slid down to sit on the edge of the bed, not taking her eyes off the child for one second. Despite the way she had screamed, the infant was fast asleep, both hands up above his head, as he nearly vanished into the soft duvet. If he’d been closer to the edge she could have sat down on him, she thought in horror. His hair was coal black and slightly curly. The tiny fists were curled, half inside the sleeves of his sweater.

All in all, a pretty adorable kid, if you were the motherly type. He was dressed in a green and white sweater, green overalls and white socks, a green pacifier hanging from a clip. In one fist he was clutching a green teething ring.

We have our first clue, Laura’s hysterical side interjected quite cheerfully, as she reached out and tentatively touched a green garment. This baby must be Irish.

Okay. She had to stop panicking and start thinking. What was this baby doing here? Thank God he was asleep. She didn’t have a clue about babies. Her experience was more or less limited to having been one, once upon a long ago, and she didn’t think that would be much help.

Think. Whose baby could this be? Why was he there? She did not know this baby. She didn’t know a lot of babies, and none of them had keys to her apartment.

“Who is he?”

Laura started. She’d almost forgotten Justin was here. “I told you, I have no idea who he is. I don’t know anyone with an infant. Heck, I don’t even know any heavily pregnant women. Do you suppose he’s a newborn?”

“I have no idea. It’s been a while since I’ve been around babies.”

She cocked her head to the side as she checked the child’s size. “I’d guess he was a few months old. He looks far too big to give birth to. Of course, they always do.”

“Yeah, well, nature knows what she’s doing.”

“Easy for you to say. Nature didn’t give you a uterus and forget to include the zipper.”

He looked at her across the bed, frowning. “Do you have some sort of a childbirth phobia?”

Laura brought her fingers to her temples, trying to keep her voice a whisper in the hope that the child would stay asleep until this nightmare ended. “Listen to us, we’re both babbling. What do I do about the kid? I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

Justin shrugged. “I’m sure the kid won’t be any more happy about it than you are, when he wakes up. Are you sure you don’t know his parents? Why would someone leave him here of all places? And how did they get in? Does someone have a key?”

“I don’t know his parents! And I don’t know how they got in. It’s possible that I left the window open.”

Justin straightened up and crossed to the window. He leaned out to examine the frame. “No, you didn’t. It’s been forced open.”

“I told you, a baby burglar,” Laura said. She felt hysterics emerge from within and head for the surface. No. Not again. She’d be calm and efficient, and do what needed to be done—call the police.

And she would not wrap herself around Justin like a princess who’d finally located her knight in shining armor, never mind how good he looked in his leather jacket. “I thought this was a safe neighborhood.”

“It is.”

“Right. I feel so safe now, knowing that anyone can just climb the fire escape and use a crowbar to force their way into my bedroom.”

“There’s something out here,” Justin muttered, still at the window, but she was too preoccupied to pay much attention.

She reached for the phone on the bedside table. “I’ll call the police.”

Justin was beside her in a flash, and the weight of his hand descended on hers, stopping her from grabbing the phone. “Wait. Don’t call the police yet.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t know what’s going on here. If you call the police, that kid will be in foster care before you know it. If this is a friend’s child, or some sort of a misunderstanding or a mistake, it will be hell for the parents to get him back. They might not get him back at all.”

“Well, if they leave their child like this, they damn well deserve to go a few rounds with the authorities! Anything could have happened to him while he was alone here.”

“He wasn’t alone.” Justin was looking toward the window. “See?” He pointed.

Out on the fire escape there was a small green tote bag.

“His mother or father probably waited out there for you to come home, making sure he would be safe.”

“Maybe there’s some explanation in that bag.”

Justin crossed the room to the window and leaned out for the bag. Laura jumped to her feet just as Justin picked it up. “Don’t! There might be fingerprints!”

He wasn’t listening, but unzipped the bag, and rummaged inside. “There’s a note.”

“Wait!” Laura dashed to the bathroom and fetched tweezers. Law school did have its uses. She ran back and picked up the note from where it was wedged in between baby clothing. It was lined paper, ripped out of a notebook. Empty on one side, six words scrawled in green ink on the other side: Good luck, will be in touch.

“What sort of a note is that?” Disappointed, Laura let the note drop to the nightstand-crate.

“Sounds like a note from someone who knows you and is trusting you with her baby.”

“I don’t know this baby,” Laura repeated for what seemed like the millionth time.

Justin upended the bag on an empty spot on her bed. There wasn’t much in it, just clothes and mainly undergarments. He went through the pile, meticulously looking at each item before putting it back into the bag.

“Well, we know two things about the mother. The clothes are good quality, so she’s not lacking in money. And she’s a tree hugger.”

“How do you know?”

Justin lifted a pile of white things. “Environmentally friendly diapers. She doesn’t use disposables for her son.”

Not only a baby, but a baby with old-fashioned diapers. Suddenly the problem had multiplied. Laura backed away. “You mean the kind you wash instead of stuffing in a bag and throwing away?”

“Yep.”

Yuck. “That’s it. I’m calling the police.”

“Because of washable diapers?”

“That was the last straw, yes.”

Justin let the diapers fall back to the bed. “You can’t do that, Laura. Someone trusts you to look after her baby. Someone who may be in trouble. You can’t betray their trust and give their baby to Social Services.”

“Why do you talk about Social Services as if I’m delivering the baby to total doom? They are there to protect children.”

“I know. And they do, the best they can, when there is no one else there for the child. But now there is someone else.”

“There is? Who?”

Justin rolled his eyes. “You. The person the parents trusted with their baby.”

“I don’t know this baby.”

Justin shrugged. “His mother or father could be an old friend perhaps? You must have some friends you haven’t seen in a few months, maybe even a year or two?”

“Well, yes…” She slid down to sit on the bed. A small fist waved in the air as the baby’s dream was disturbed, but he settled down again and Laura allowed herself to breathe. A few more minutes of peace, that was all they had. He had to wake up any minute now. “Of course. I’ve been so busy lately that I’ve almost lost touch with even my closest friends. Then there are friends from college, from my summer jobs. High school friends. But I can’t believe any of them would dump their infant baby on me without a word.” She stood, careful not to disturb the baby again. “Let’s talk in the living room, where we don’t disturb him.”

Justin followed her, bumping into her back when she stopped short at the sight of her living room.

“Oh, damn.”

Justin put his hand on his shoulder and pushed her to the side. “Wait here, I’ll go first. Looks like it was a burglar after all.”

How embarrassing. “No…this is how it usually looks these days.”

His look was incredulous, and embarrassment made her lash out at him.

“Well, maybe you’re the perfect housewife, Justin, but I’m not. I’m swamped with work. I was so exhausted that I didn’t think I’d make it up the stairs! I don’t know how this happened…but things just pile up and then all of a sudden it’s Messville. Ordinarily I’m not a slob. So don’t judge me.”

“Hey, what did I say?”

“Nothing. But you’ve got expressive eyes.”

Eyes she’d made the mistake of looking into from close up. Hypnotizing. A woman would throw away her map and happily get lost in there for days.

Justin gestured to the sofa. “Can we move the…stuff away and sit down?”

“Sure.” She grabbed an armful of papers and books and dumped it on top of the diminishing mountain of clean laundry on the coffee table. At least she knew for a fact there wasn’t any underwear there. “There. Have a seat.”

He did. “Do you know any tree huggers?”

Laura dropped down by his side, fatigue seeping into her bones again now that the adrenaline was getting the picture: no one to fight or flee, just diapers to change. Probably not an event worthy of a full-scale hormonal attack. “I know a lot of environmentally conscious people, yes. People who are into recycling and conserving the rain forests.”

“Good. That narrows it down.”

“Are you suggesting I take my phone book and call all the recyclers in there and ask if they’d happened to drop a baby off in my apartment today?”

“We could also just wait for the mother to call.”

“Or the father. Or both. We don’t know who left him here.”

“That’s true.”

Her head fell back against the sofa. “The right thing to do is to call the police. We don’t know the story. He might have been mistreated for all we know.”

“He seems to be well cared for. Even his clothes are color-coordinated.”

Laura shook her head. “I can’t, Justin. Even if I wanted to…” She shook her head again. “It’s illegal. If the parents don’t come for the child and we have to bring in the police I could be disbarred.”

“I’ll take responsibility.”

“What?”

He made an impatient gesture. “The baby was found in my apartment. It was my decision to wait for the parents to contact me.”

“Lying to the police?”

“Adjusting the truth microscopically.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you a lawyer, too?”

He chuckled. “No.”

“What is it you do, by the way? Mrs. Carlson upstairs talks about you as ‘our resident teacher.’ Any truth in that, or is it just her nerve pills speaking?”

“She’s right. I have a teaching diploma, but I mostly work as a speech therapist.”

Speech therapist. Of all the occupations in the world, she wouldn’t have guessed that one in a million years. It didn’t go with the motorbike. She made a mental note to pry further later. “Why is this so important to you?”

“I know what foster care can be like. I don’t wish it on an infant.”

There was obviously a story behind that statement, delivered in a clipped tone devoid of emotion.

“I’m sorry you had a bad experience, but foster care is often excellent, handled by caring, loving people.”

“Yes. And sometimes it’s not.”

“Be reasonable, Justin. You don’t know who left him here and why. His parents may be searching for him. If we don’t turn him in, that’s kidnapping. He’ll be well looked after by the authorities.”

“This is a tiny baby, just a few months old. He needs care. He needs bonding. Do you know what happens to infants who don’t bond with a caretaker in the first few months? They may never recover.”

“He’ll get good care. He’ll get better care, better bonding, with someone who knows what they’re doing.” She gestured at the two of them. “And neither of us does. Neither of us has even the time to look after a baby.”

“We’re capable. I’ve got the time, and I want to help.”

“So you just want to take this baby?”

Justin’s sigh suggested she was being extremely difficult. “I’m not suggesting we steal him, Laura. Just that we look after him while we try to track down his parents. There has to be a reason he was left here. We’ll figure it out and find his parents.”

“And then what? We give him back to people who left him alone on a strange doorstep?”

“I don’t know. We don’t know the circumstances. We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”