The Baby Came C.O.D. Read online

  "Just now. I just asked you if you'd marry me," he answered innocently.

  She hit his shoulder with the flat of her hand. He was doing this on purpose.

  "Not that, I mean when did you decide that you wanted to marry me?" If the signs had been there, she certainly hadn't seen them.

  He didn't even have to think about it. "Somewhere in between my passing out on my bed and holding you in my arms in the hall this morning. Why, did I miss an entry deadline?"

  She felt completely dazed. "No, it's just that...I didn't... That is..." Claire gave up. "You leave me completely speechless."

  He sincerely doubted that, but for the sake of peace, he let it go. "That's good, because what I've got in mind doesn't need words. As a matter of fact, words only get in the way." He framed her face with his hands, becoming serious. "I love you, Claire. I don't need an answer right now—just tell me that you'll think about it."

  There was that wild, heady feeling again. The one that took her breath away and made her pulse leap as if she were sprinting toward a finish line.

  "Yes."

  He searched her eyes, wanting an answer despite what he had just said. He knew he shouldn't push, but it was hard not to, not when he felt this way. "Then you'll think about it?"

  "No."

  Confused, he tried to decipher which question she had just answered. "You won't think about it?"

  Obviously, he needed this spelled out. Claire began spell¬ing. "The answer is yes, Evan. Yes, I will marry you."

  He'd always been cautious and even now, he was afraid to take her reply and run with it. "This isn't just the fever talking, is it?"

  "Yes." She laughed. "But it's not the kind of fever you think. It's more of a slow roast, the kind I feel in my chest every time I see you. Every time I watch you with Rachel or hear you reading a story to Libby."

  The last surprised him. "When did you hear me reading to Libby?"

  "When you read Cinderella to her."

  "That narrows it down," he quipped. "I've been reading Cinderella to her for the last four nights." He'd come to learn that it was one of the main staples of her nighttime routine.

  Claire remembered every word she'd overheard per¬fectly. "The night you said I was beautiful."

  He'd thought he'd heard something in the hall that night, but he had chalked it up to his imagination. Now he knew it wasn't. "You eavesdropped?"

  Claire preferred to think of it differently. "I thought I was coming to the rescue." She laughed at herself. "I was making my way down the hall, holding on to the walls. All in all, I'm glad you didn't see me." The smile lit up her face, already aglow in the firelight. "And I'm glad I heard you."

  "So am I." She was going to marry him. She'd said yes. He felt like celebrating, like announcing it from the roof¬tops, or better yet, e-mailing several million people with the news. "So what do you want to do? We have the whole night ahead of us."

  Claire sighed, snuggling against him. "Just sit here by the fire, listen to Libby breathe. Feel your heart against my cheek."

  "Funny, I was just going to suggest that." Evan's arm tightened about her shoulders as he brought his lips down to hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  "We get to do this two times this year, huh, Mama?" Libby beamed as she tossed another handful of tinsel at the Christmas tree.

  "Yes, honey." Claire undid the last box of silvery streamers. She figured that four should do it, as long as Libby remembered to toss the tinsel on all sides. It wasn't a very big tree, but it was a Christmas tree, which was all that really counted.

  "Why didn't Evan want to have one this year?" Another fistful sailed and landed in a clump around a ball depicting Santa and his reindeer.

  From his complete lack of decorations, Claire suspected that this wasn't exactly the first year Evan hadn't had a Christmas tree in his living room. Determined to do it right, she'd gone out while he was at work and purchased orna¬ments, garlands and lights, all reduced to half price because it was so close to Christmas. Then they'd all gone out for the tree together. The slightly listing tree had been Libby's choice.

  To preserve the untarnished image he seemed to have earned with Libby, Claire fell back on creativity. She fig¬ured a white lie was all right, as long as it was for a good cause.

  "Because we're all going down to spend Christmas with his family and they have a big tree, so he thought maybe he wouldn't get one this year. Since he couldn't spend Christmas with it," she added when Libby looked at her pensively.

  "Do you think our tree'll get lonely while we're gone?"

  Libby had a heart as big as all outdoors, and Claire wouldn't have had it any other way. "Tell you what, when we get back, we'll have a little celebration for it and pre¬tend it's Christmas all over again. The tree will never know the difference. What do you say?"

  "All right!" Libby tugged on Claire's sweater. When Claire bent down, Libby pressed her lips to her cheek. "You're the best, Mama."

  "What have I been telling you all along?" Claire laughed. She rose and saw Evan standing in the doorway. He had a strange, thoughtful expression on his face. Some-thing was wrong. "What's the matter?"

  Libby's excitement faded into the background. Claire knew he'd just taken a telephone call. They were leaving for Newport Beach early tomorrow morning—had plans been changed? Or had he changed his mind about their going with him after talking to his mother or someone else in the family?

  Claire began to steel herself. Though she loved him and had agreed to marry him, Claire couldn't help keeping a little piece of herself in reserve, in case things didn't turn out the way she hoped. She was a dyed-in-the-wool opti¬mist, but she was also a realist. Too many things had hap¬pened in her life for her not to be. The flip side of joy was sorrow.

  The look on Evan's face had her bracing herself for an emotional blow. It was better to be ready than to be caught unprepared.

  "That was Devin," he told her.

  Evan looked at the tree. Signs of Libby's enthusiasm were lodged on various branches in the form of clumps of silver. His brother used to throw tinsel that way, he re¬called, while he had meticulously laid strands out so that they hung down to catch the light. His were more artistic, but Devin's represented more fun. That's what had been missing in his life, he thought, before Claire. Fun.

  He picked up a handful and threw it, just like Libby, surprising and pleasing Claire.

  "He said he's coming by in a few minutes."

  "Devin?" Claire didn't understand. "Isn't he with the rest of your family in Newport Beach?"

  "Apparently not." He noticed there had been a strange, strained note in her voice. Evan looked at Claire and took her hand. It felt icy. The house wasn't cold. Was she getting ill again? Evan paused, trying to get his own feelings under control. "He's finally tracked down Rachel's mother."

  The moment of respite disappeared, eaten up by concern. She couldn't read his eyes. What had Devin told him?

  "Oh, God, Evan, is it bad news? Does she want Rachel back?"

  Evan had been planning to file a petition with the court to get sole legal custody of Rachel. If her mother contested, Claire knew that at the very least, things could get ugly. And they could drag out for months, maybe even years. She didn't want that for the little girl, or for Evan.

  Evan picked up another handful of tinsel; then, restless, he let it drop. "It was a bad connection. Devin said he'd tell me everything once he got here." Meanwhile, he thought, he was waiting, poised on the edge of razor-sharp pins.

  He was worried; she could see it now. Any concerns of her own were pushed to the side. Evan needed her. Her hand closed over his.

  "It'll be all right, Evan. If she wants Rachel back, we'll give her one hell of a fight," she said fiercely. "It's not so cut-and-dried anymore. More fathers are getting custody of their children these days, and she did abandon Rachel."

  Evan wasn't saying anything. Maybe she had misread his expression. Maybe he was wrestling with his con¬science, struggling with
ambivalent feelings.

  Claire lowered her voice so that Libby couldn't hear. "You do want her, don't you?"

  She could ask that of him? In the beginning, sure, but now? He'd had the baby in his life just over six weeks, and it seemed like a lifetime. A frenzied, sweet lifetime. He'd dispensed with the idea of a nanny and left Rachel with Claire during the day. Every night he'd come home—not late, not with more work in his briefcase—but home to Rachel. To all of them. He couldn't picture his life the way it had once been and didn't want to.

  "I want Rachel as much as I want to go on breathing." He looked at Claire, touching her cheek. "Almost as much as I want you."

  She came to him then, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest. Claire didn't want him to see the tears. Men didn't understand tears of joy. To them, tears always meant pain. If there was a pain in her heart, it was a sweet pain that she cherished.

  "Well, then prepare yourself to go on breathing, Evan Quartermain, because you've got us, all of us, and we're not about to go away." She saw Libby watching them, the display of emotion making her hesitate. Claire extended one arm toward her daughter. "Are we, Libby?"

  The little girl shook her head, then wiggled in between them to share in the hug.

  * * *

  The door opened on the very first ring. It was almost as if, Devin thought, his brother had stood waiting behind the door. There was apprehension in Evan's eyes, but the greet¬ing between them was warmer than any he could recall in recent years.

  And along with the concern he saw in Evan's eyes was something familiar. Something he'd seen in his own eyes in the mirror of late. Contentment.

  "So how's it going?" Devin asked, taking his jacket off. Coming from the southern region of the state, he wasn't accustomed to this kind of cold weather and he hated the bulk of heavy clothing.

  "You tell me." Should he be calling his lawyer, alerting him to prepare for a fight? Evan searched his brother's face for a clue.

  Devin laughed shortly, still amazed at what a small world it was at times. "You know, it's the damnedest thing. That case I told you I was working on?" He'd given Evan no particulars, only that he had been devoting all his time to one case. But he had promised to find a way to look for Rachel's mother even if it meant giving up sleep. For Dev¬in, it had been tantamount to an oath sworn in blood, since sleep had always been so important to him. "The trail wound up leading practically to your door. Next door, as a matter of fact." He jerked his thumb toward the other house. "Do you happen to know your neighbor?"

  It was a legitimate question, Devin felt. Evan kept to himself and was, for the most part, oblivious to the people around him unless they somehow figured into his work.

  Evan's eyebrows narrowed. What was Devin getting at? "Yes, intimately. Why?"

  The word intimately stood out for Devin in large, flash¬ing neon lights. So that was what was responsible for the change in his brother. My, God, he thought, truth was really stranger than fiction.

  But before he had a chance to say anything further, their number increased by one.

  Claire had hung back as long as decorum and patience had allowed. As well as being eager to meet his brother and see just how far the resemblance went, she was anxious to hear about Rachel's mother.

  She walked in, her hand extended to Devin. "Hello, you must be Devin. I'm—"

  "Claire Walker." Devin stared at her in amazement. If he hadn't just spoken to her on the telephone, he would have sworn that Blair had flown up here just to play a trick on him. "My, God, you look just like her. Exactly like her."

  "Like who?" Claire looked to Evan for an explanation, but he merely lifted his shoulders in a confused shrug. "And how did you know my name?"

  "Mama, did Evan split in half?" Libby crept hesitantly toward her mother, her eyes riveted to the man who looked just like Evan.

  "No, honey, this is his twin brother, Devin," Claire re¬plied uncertainly. Had Evan told his brother about her? That would explain how he knew her name, but who was the "her" he was referring to?

  "I think you'd all better sit down for this," Devin told them. He knew he needed to.

  Evan had no intention of dragging this out. "Devin, can we dispense with the dramatics and just have you tell me about Rachel's mother?"

  That seemed almost like small potatoes now, although Devin knew that it meant a great deal to Evan. That in itself was a surprise. Their last conversation had been a complete reversal of the first. Rather than being eager to locate Rachel's mother so that he could give her back the baby, Evan now wanted him to make sure she was giving up all claim to the child. If anyone would have asked Dev¬in, he would have said his brother had fallen under a spell. Now that he saw Claire, it all became clear to him.

  "Everything's fine," Devin assured him. "She was really surprised you bothered having her traced, and even more surprised that you wanted sole custody of Rachel. But she meant what she said. She just wasn't cut out to be the mother type. She gave me all of Rachel's papers, birth cer¬tificate, record of immunizations, those kinds of things, and signed over custody to you. She just wants to have Rachel taken care of and to be free to go on with her own life."

  Devin took out a bulging envelope from his jacket pocket, handing it over to Evan. He couldn't take his eyes off Claire. There was absolutely no difference between the woman beside Evan and the one he had left behind at home.

  Evan opened the envelope and read the document. Only then did it sink in. Relief washed over him. This was far better than he'd hoped. Rachel was his without a fight; it was legal and binding. Claire was his, and soon that would be legal and binding, as well. They'd decided on a Val¬entine's Day wedding. He was getting a wife and two kids—and maybe a van to use on vacations. Evan couldn't remember when he had been happier.

  Putting the papers back in the envelope, he looked at his brother. He knew Claire was beautiful, but Devin was star¬ing at her as if she were an apparition.

  "Now, what's this other thing you were talking about?" Evan slipped his arm protectively around Claire's shoul¬ders. "Just how does Claire figure into your case?"

  Devin laughed softly to himself. Wait till Evan heard about this! "Claire is my case."

  "What?" Claire didn't understand. How could she be his case when she'd never met him before?

  If he began in the beginning, it would take too long to get to the point. Devin hopped to the middle. "Ms. Walker, do you know that you're adopted?"

  An uneasy feeling began to creep through her. Claire nodded. "Yes, my father told me just before he died that he and my mother adopted me when I was about two years old." And then it came to her, riding on a bolt of lightning. "Is this about my sister?"

  Libby urgently tugged on the edge of her sweater. "You have a sister, Mama?"

  Her arm went around Libby, as if to shield her from any shock. "A twin."

  It only confused Libby more. "Did you split in half, too, Mama?"

  "No, honey, that's not how twins happen—exactly." She didn't have time to explain it to her now. As Claire looked at Devin, something twisted inside her chest, pricked by anxiety. "Is it about her?" she asked again in a whisper. She was vaguely aware that Evan's arm had tightened around her shoulders.

  He nodded. "She didn't know about you until just re¬cently. She found a photograph of the two of you with your mother—your birth mother—among her adoptive mother's things after she died. According to the back of the photo¬graph, you were twenty-three months old. She'd been try¬ing to locate you ever since."

  Claire could feel herself trembling as joy, sorrow and confusion mixed in disproportionate measures within her. Part of her almost felt that this wasn't real. And yet, hadn't she always known? Even before Dr. Richmond had told her about her twin, hadn't something within her always felt that there was a piece of her that was missing?

  "And my birth mother?" She wasn't even fully con¬scious of forming the words.

  He hated being the bearer of bad news, but
at least it was tempered with good, Devin thought. "Died a long time ago, I'm afraid. Of cancer. That was why you were put up for adoption," he explained quickly. He knew how much this had mattered to Blair. "She didn't have anyone to care for the two of you."

  So it wasn't a case of abandonment, Claire thought as tears crept from the corners of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She'd been loved, not deserted like Rachel. She felt Evan leaning in to her and, for a moment, she grasped at the comfort he silently offered.

  Claire drew in a large breath, then let it out slowly. She was in control again. "When can I meet her?"

  Devin walked out of the den, closing the doors behind him. Not that, knowing Blair, they would remain that way. He just wanted a moment to set the stage. It had taken him two days to get everything prepared. He'd done what he had intended to do beforehand. He'd asked Blair to marry him, and she had said yes. A yes that hadn't been borne on the tailwind of an emotional charge, something he knew was about to happen.

  She'd said yes because she loved him as much as he had come to love her. As much as, he could see, Evan and Claire loved each other.

  Now he was going to give Blair the gift he'd wanted to give her all along. They'd met when she'd hired him to find her sister. Things had quickly escalated between them, and though he had never mixed business with his private life before, this time he'd been helpless to prevent it. He made amends for that. He'd just given her back her retainer, leaving her to wonder if that meant that he was giving up the search for Claire.

  She should have known him better than that, he mused, going out to the car. But she would. They had a lifetime before them to learn about each other's habits and traits, small and large.

  He was rather looking forward to the learning process.

  They were outside the car, waiting for him. Evan was holding the baby in his arms while Libby clutched Claire's hand. Devin grinned. He was never going to get used to the sight of his brother holding a baby, or the idea that Evan was a family man. It was something he was going to have to work on.