The Brennan Baby

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“I’ll give her something for the fever and pain, too, so she can get some sleep. So you both can get some sleep,” he amended. “Make an appointment with your pediatrician for a follow-up visit, okay?”

Gillian redressed Ashley in her aqua footed pajamas. The baby clung to her, sniffling and casting an occasional glare at Devlin as he delved into his bag for his prescription pad.

“If looks could kill, I’d be on life support with the transplant team ready to claim my organs,” he remarked, catching one of Ashley’s particularly baleful glowers. “One of the main reasons why I hated my stint in pediatrics was that I didn’t like being universally loathed by all those sick little kids who screamed when they saw a white coat coming.”

Gillian paced the room with Ashley in her arms. “The medicine.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I—I’ll have to take Ashley with me to pick it up at the drugstore.”

Devlin stood up. “I think that’s as close as you’ll come to asking me to go get it for you, isn’t it?”

She didn’t meet his eyes. He was right, of course. She couldn’t bring herself to ask him, though she wanted him, needed him, to do it.

Dev heaved an exasperated sigh. “Consider it done, Gillian.”

He strode from the apartment and was back within half an hour with a bag from the hospital pharmacy. Ashley did not like the bubblegum-thick liquid medicine and promptly spit it out when her mother gave it to her.

“Time for me to show off one of the little tricks a warhorse of a pediatric nurse once showed me. Try this.” Devlin held Ashley’s small jaws open and funneled the medicine down her throat. He was nimble and swift, and the startled baby swallowed the dose before she could erupt in a howl of protest.

“You’re really good at that.” Gillian was impressed by his dexterity.

“Ashley was co-operating, weren’t you, sugar?” He patted the baby’s belly. Ashley eyed him suspiciously, then turned to her mother for comfort. Devlin watched Gillian cuddle the child close. “If you think she hated the amoxicillin, just wait till we try to get the ear drops into her. No self-respecting kid likes drops of any kind.”

Ashley proved herself to be a self-respecting kid by attempting to ward off the ear drops, turning her head from side to side and flailing her arms and legs while shrieking her protests. But it was two adults against one small, albeit enraged baby, and her parents prevailed.

After another dose of liquid medicine for pain and fever, Ashley was more than ready to let Gillian rock her while she sucked on a bottle of juice. The rocking chair was in the living room—the baby’s bedroom was too small to accommodate it—and while Gillian gave Ashley her bottle, Devlin sprawled on the sofa and observed them.

He was reluctant to leave and Gillian was too preoccupied with the baby to remember to tell him to get lost.

“You mentioned a day care center,” he said, finally breaking the long silence. “Is it the one in the hospital for employees’ kids?”

Gillian nodded, her eyes never leaving Ashley’s face. The baby’s eyelids were finally drooping and she seemed on the verge of falling asleep. “It’s a good place.” She spoke in a low voice, so as not to disturb Ashley. “She’s been going there since she was a month old.”

“You were on maternity leave till then?”

She nodded again. “I used my paid vacation time for the first two weeks and the rest was unpaid maternity leave. Then I had to go back to work.” Gillian stared into space, looking weary and dispirited. “Our foster mother is dead set against day care centers. She thinks I should hire a sitter to stay home with the baby, but I can’t afford it. When Mom hears that Ashley is sick, she’ll blame the center She calls them CDCs—Centers for Disease and Contagion.”

“Hmm, a wordplay on the Center for Disease Control. Not a bad one, either,” Devlin said lightly.

Gillian shot him a look. “It’s wordplay I don’t like to hear, not even as a joke. Not when my baby is spending eight hours a day there.”

“You have nothing to worry about The hospital day care center is fully accredited. I know plenty of people on staff whose kids go there. But if I may offer you a little advice, Gillian? Don’t tell your mom that Ashley is sick. Spare yourself the CDC puns. What you don’t need right now is an extended guilt trip.”

“Mom Sinsel isn’t like that,” Gillian protested. “But...maybe I won’t tell her about Ashley’s ear infection just yet.”

“No use worrying the dear lady,” Devlin said dryly.

Gillian looked up, a smile curving the corners of her mouth. Her eyes met his. And held. Her heart seemed to jump into her throat and then plunge deep into the pit of her stomach. Was she imagining it? Or was Devlin Brennan looking at her as if...as if—

Her internal gyrations picked up speed. The brooding focus of his gaze, the intensity in his deep blue eyes, were unmistakably sexual. Gillian knew that look well. He’d directed it toward her before, countless times during those three fateful months they’d been together.

Rather than attempting to conceal his desire, he was allowing her to read it in his eyes, on his face. Involuntarily, her gaze fell to his lap and she saw the hard bulge straining against the well-worn denim of his jeans. He was making no attempt to conceal that visible evidence from her, either.

Before she could suppress it, Gillian felt her own immediate response deep within the feminine center of her. It was so intense it bordered on pain, but it was a sweet pain, a tantalizing erotic combination of pleasure and searing ache. Gillian gulped for breath.

In a swift sensually explicit flashback, she felt the passion that had burned between them surface once again. It had been fierce and honest and real. With Devlin, she’d experienced the kind of enthralling lovemaking that only results from a mutual combination of trust and desire.

A definite first for her. She had trusted him and wanted him and fallen deeply in love with him, dropping her guard and her vigilance as never before. And for a while, it had worked. She’d been blissfully happy—emotionally, sexually, and every other way there was to be happy.

Physically, they had been in total accord, from the desire that flared hot and deep between them to the sweet afterglow of mutual satisfaction. But there had been more than good sex between them. They’d had fun together out of bed, too, talking and laughing and teasing each other. Devlin’s hours as an orthopedic resident were grueling and they’d spent much of his time off in his apartment where he could relax and unwind. Gillian had been content just to be with him, to he beside him while he was sleeping, to be there when he awakened, hard and hungry and wanting her.

Wanting sex, she amended quickly. Any woman would have served his purpose, she simply happened to be the one who was there during those three months. Afterward, Devlin had no trouble finding others to take her place in his bed and in his life.

Gillian had heard all about her successors. Though the hospital’s social work department was located in another wing from the orthopedic unit, the grapevine was extremely efficient, reaching all areas. Hospital gossip seemed to travel faster than the speed of sound, especially gossip about certain attractive, eligible bachelors.

Gillian remembered that time. The pain of wanting Devlin and not having him had been intense, but she had coped. She was accustomed to coping with pain—at least it was a familiar state. Happiness wasn’t, not really. Her foster sister, Carmen Salazar, had said it best when she’d once confided, “Being happy scares the hell out of me.”

Gillian understood all too well. As hard as she’d worked to overcome her troubled past, there were some lessons that were too deeply ingrained to be erased in only three months, however wonderful. Being wary of happiness, fearing its loss while waiting for it to be snatched away were only a few.

“You look scared to death.” Devlin’s eyes narrowed as he continued to watch her intently. “Are you still worried about the baby—or is it something else altogether?”

Agitated, Gillian began to rock the chair faster. She’d never credited Devlin with much emotional insight and he openly scoffed at what he deemed “those touchy-feely-guys-who-cry,” but suddenly he seemed far too perceptive.

She resolutely withdrew, blocking the memories and fighting her need for him. Years of practice made her adept at emotional shutdowns.

“I’ll put Ashley in her crib now. Thank you for all your help, Devlin.” Gillian stood up, careful not to awaken the sleeping infant. “I’m sorry we intruded on your off-duty hours with a medical problem. I can manage now.”

“No need for me to stick around, huh? In other words, take off.”

She flushed. “If I sounded rude and ungrateful, I apologize.”

“Can you make your tone any more impersonal, Gillian?” Devlin didn’t move from his position on the sofa. “I’m half expecting you to offer to write me a check for making a house call.”

Gillian’s temper flared. “Exactly what do you want me to say and how am I expected to say it, Dev?” she whispered crossly.

“Put the baby to bed and we’ll talk about it.”

“We have nothing to say to each other, Devlin.”

“Don’t we?”

“No!” It was hard to sound forceful while whispering She was at a definite disadvantage, trying not to disturb the baby while attempting to send Devlin on his way. It was imperative that she get him out of here before he could act on those impulsive amatory urges he’d suddenly developed. Because if she were to respond to him...

She glanced down at Ashley, sleeping peacefully in her arms. For her child’s sake, for her own sake, she had to keep Devlin Brennan away. She would play the role of nasty bitch, if she had to. A man like Dev, with women falling all over him, would have no use for a woman who didn’t treat him like a god.

“When I come back into this room, I expect you to be gone,” Gillian said coldly, all signs of appreciation and friendliness eradicated from her tone, from her expression.

She earned Ashley into her bedroom and laid the baby in her crib, staying there for a long time watching the child sleep. When she finally returned to the living room, it was empty. Devlin had gone.

Well, she’d figured that Devlin Brennan would accept nothing less than one hundred percent adoration in return for his golden presence. A man like him wouldn’t waste his time with the cranky mother of a sick baby. Not even if that baby was his own.

“Good!” Gillian said aloud. She had driven him away, just as she’d intended. The peculiar ache in her chest was the result of fatigue and worry about Ashley, not sadness. She was not sad because Devlin had left her.

She switched on her TV set, searching for something to watch. And bolted upright in her seat as a nattily dressed chimp appeared on the screen. Seconds later, her phone rang.

“You’ll never guess wheats on.” Devlin’s voice sounded over the line.

“I just saw him. A face from the past, Lancelot Link.” Gillian couldn’t help but chuckle. “I instantly thought of you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” There was a smile in his voice.

The easy moment’s camaraderie turned awkward. Devlin cleared his throat “Ashley didn’t wake up when you put her in her crib?”

“No, she’s out like a light.”

“She should have another dose of the antibiotic in six hours, even if that means waking her to give it,” Devlin was all professional physician now. “She can also have the pain and fever meds at that time, if she needs them.”

“I’ll set my alarm.” Gillian drew a deep breath. “Thanks again, Dev.”

“No problem.”

They hung up, his nonchalant response ringing in her ears. Why did everybody say “no problem” instead of “you’re welcome” these days? she mused. “No problem” seemed so detached, so casual...and there, she’d just answered her own question about the popular usage. Everyone knew that detached and casual was preferable to even minimal involvement

Not that she had any reason to complain, Gillian conceded. She wanted Devlin Brennan to remain detached and casual toward her. God forbid he should ever get close enough to put together the obvious clues of Ashley’s parentage.

For just a few moments Gillian allowed herself to imagine that scene. Having once been an unwanted, unexpected child herself, she had no trouble predicting the outcome. Devlin would be beyond furious to learn he had a child. She shivered, remembering her own birth father—Craig Saylor’s—rage when his daughter Gillian had arrived, an unsolicited surprise, on his doorstep at the age of twelve.

Even worse than her father’s anger at her existence had been his complete rejection. He’d made it unmistakably clear he didn’t care that he had a twelve-year-old daughter who needed him. Craig Saylor didn’t want her and refused to have anything to do with her. As far as he was concerned, it was the state of Michigan that was stuck with Gillian Bailey until she turned eighteen, not him.

That particular memory had long ago lost the power to hurt her, but the experience of seeing Ashley roundly rejected by the man who’d fathered her was one Gillian knew she couldn’t bear. She loved her child too much to have her devalued as anybody’s unwanted mistake.

Restlessly, Gillian wandered back into Ashley’s bedroom and leaned over the crib. The baby was deeply asleep, lying on her back, her tiny fingers balled into fists. History was not going to repeat itself, Gillian promised her daughter—and herself, as well. Ashley Joy Morrow had a mother who loved her, who wanted her and would always be there for her.

Gillian stroked Ashley’s dark curls. She’d loved her child from the moment the nurse in the delivery room had placed the newborn infant in her arms. Maybe even before. She smiled, remembering Ashley’s gymnastics while in the womb She had cared about the baby then, of course, but when she’d gazed at that innocent little face, maternal instinct became something stronger. Her love was also an act of will, a vow to nurture Ashley and to keep her safe always.

She’d done that for eleven months without any help from Devlin Brennan and she would continue to do so. Gillian blinked back the sudden tears that burned in her eyes.

“You’re a smart girl, Gillian,” she remembered Dolly Sinsel telling her many times over the years. “You don’t go chasing after what you can’t have. You know what to want, and you make sure that it’s something you are able to get.”

But wanting Devlin Brennan hadn’t been smart. She couldn’t have him. After three months she had sensed him tiring of her, had felt his waning interest, and couldn’t bear the agony of waiting to hear him say he didn’t want her anymore. So she’d taken matters into her own hands and ended the unbearable suspense.