Dr. Dad

Starr had a terrible effect on a man. No matter how many times he resolved to stop thinking about her, she crept into his mind anyway. It wasn’t so much that she was attractive; he’d known a lot of women more beautiful than Starr. But none of them had shimmered with such energy.

Leaning back in his chair, Noah rubbed his throbbing forehead, grateful it was Saturday so he didn’t have to go into the office.

A year ago it wouldn’t have bothered him to be caught kissing an attractive woman, but a year ago he hadn’t been worried about keeping custody of his niece. Now, the last thing he needed was even the appearance of impropriety—Becky’s maternal grandparents were the most uptight, conservative people he’d ever met. Fortunately Sam and Amelia’s will had been very specific—they’d wanted Noah to raise their daughter if anything happened to them.

“You need a better security system,” a voice said from behind him. “Almost anyone could break in.”

“Damnation!” Noah leapt to his feet and spun around. He glared at his intruder. It was Rafe McKittrick, Becky’s uncle on her mother’s side of the family. “You installed the lousy system. It figures you could break in. Why the hell are you here?”

“I’ m not staying. I have business down the coast.”

“That’s a relief.”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth lifted slightly under his mustache, which was the closest Noah had ever come to seeing him smile. “Is Becky awake?”

“No.” Noah felt a faint niggle of guilt about being so curt, but he didn’t like any of the McKittricks, including Rafe.

The other man just nodded and tossed him the newspaper he was carrying, folded around the infamous picture. “My parents are a little upset about this, I thought you should know.”

Noah made an impatient gesture. “It’s not like we were sneaking out of some seedy motel. Besides, Starr is a Pulitzer Prize winner. They should love her for that, if nothing else.”

Rafe shrugged noncommittally. “About Becky... Have you considered getting married so she’d have a mother?”

“What?”

“You know, married. The ‘I do’ routine with gold rings. I don’t hold by it personally, but it would go a long way toward smoothing things with the folks. One of their biggest gripes is because you’re a bachelor.”

“Wrong,” Noah retorted. “One of their biggest gripes is that Sam and I were raised by a single father who drank himself into an early grave. We never had the right highbrow background to suit them. As for me being a bachelor... I’ll get married to please myself, and no one else.”

“Suit yourself.”

For a long while after Rafe left, Noah stared into space, his coffee growing cold. He didn’t think the McKittricks could take Becky away from him—they’d have to prove he was unfit. Yet he couldn’t help worrying. They were powerful people, with powerful friends. And they used the newspapers they owned to pillory anyone they didn’t like.

That isn’t fair.

Noah shifted, almost believing he could hear Starr Granger’s voice echoing in his mind. Intellectually, he knew she was different than the nosy, truth-twisting reporters he’d dealt with since Sam’s death—the reporters who had suggested Sam was responsible for the fatal crash of the twin engine Cessna, either by pilot incompetence or impaired judgment. Yet it was hard to separate her from the McKittricks.

With bleak eyes, Noah gazed out at the view. The back of the house overlooked the turbulent beauty of the Pacific Ocean, and visible to the far right was the broad opening of the Columbia River. A nice view for a nice house; a fine, healthy home for a child. Except “nice” and “healthy” weren’t enough to satisfy the McKittricks. They didn’t like anyone who didn’t fit their mold of acceptance.

A small weight, imbued with warmth, leaned against his leg. Becky—tousle-haired and yawning—in her sleepers. Without a word she crawled into his lap and settled against his chest.

Noah’s heart flip-flopped.

He smoothed damp tendrils of hair away from her face. Playing the indulgent uncle had been easy—learning to be a father was far more difficult. Truthfully, sometimes it was easier when Becky was asleep. Wide-awake, she was a complete mystery to him. She smeared bananas on his suits and fed oatmeal to the compact disc player. She didn’t talk very much so he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She said “no” with alarming regularity.

But it would kill him to lose her.

The thought stayed with Noah as he dressed Becky for the day. He was still awkward with the morning routine of caring for a child, and her bedroom usually resembled a disaster area by the time they were finished. He hadn’t expected a daily fashion dilemma with a two-year-old, but Becky was fussier than any New York model.

Today was no exception.

She didn’t want to wear the Cinderella outfit; she wanted the one with kitty cats. Only, when he found the kitty-cat sweater, she’d changed her mind and wanted something else. Since she didn’t communicate well, he ended up holding garments up one by one, trying to figure out which one she really wanted. Of course, she ended up deciding to wear the Cinderella dress after most of the closet and her dresser drawers were empty.

As they headed back to the kitchen—finally dressed—Noah sighed. When it came to Becky, his extensive medical education flew out the window. All the child-rearing theories in the world didn’t amount to a hill of beans when confronted by an obstinate two-year-old.

Patience. He just needed patience.

Becky’s tantrums were probably caused by the upheaval in her life. And no wonder. Losing Sam and Amelia had been hard for both of them.

Noah was contemplating the next battle, what to fix for breakfast, when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“You sound breathless.” Starr’s melodic voice sent an unusual reaction through Noah’s gut. “How is Becky doing? Any problems because of the excitement?”

“Er...Ms. Granger. No, she’s fine.”

“I thought you were going to call me Starr.”

“I wasn’t going to call you at all,” he said bluntly. No matter how attractive, he didn’t plan on spending time with Starr Granger. She was too...volatile. Too unpredictable. Too everything.

She laughed, seeming unperturbed by his rudeness. “I’d like to see Becky. We didn’t have much chance for a visit with everything that happened.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured.

“How about this afternoon?”

Noah shifted uncomfortably. “I think next week would be better.”

There was a long pause. “I won’t be in town for very long. I’m on vacation, but I have to go back to work eventually.”

“I didn’t realize you took vacations.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Starr asked, a faintly indignant huff in her voice.

“Nothing. Except...well...why the sudden interest in Becky? Hell, you didn’t even show up at her baptism—they had to get someone to stand in for you.”

Starr sighed. “We discussed this when I called the first time. I was on assignment. I explained to Amelia and Sam—they understood.”

Noah gritted his teeth. Fine. Maybe Amelia and Sam had understood, but he didn’t. “This is just one of your impulsive whims,” he growled. “Like kissing me in front of everyone. Have you seen yesterday’s paper?”

Starr laughed. “I thought you’d be unhappy about that.”

“Unhappy?” he said loudly. “The McKittricks live only a hundred miles away and they watch everything I do. Hell—they’re probably filing for custody right now.”

“You’re just overreacting. They aren’t that bad, you know.”

“Oh, sure!”

“Unca Noah?” A hand tugged on his trousers. Distracted, he looked down at Becky’s worried face.