Whose Baby Is This?

She stopped suddenly, and he nearly ran into her. “What are you getting at, Doctor? Are you trying to say I can’t care for my own flesh and blood?”

“No, of course not. But what are you going to do in years to come when little Erin starts asking questions? What are you going to tell her about her father? And what about Briana? You said it was her dying wish that you find her daughter’s father.”

Tara closed her eyes. “I tried, but you’re not…him.”

“So you’re going to quit?” He stepped closer, his eyes dark and compelling. “Stay, Tara, and together we can find this man. I can put a stop to the trouble he’s causing me, and you can fulfill your promise to your sister. Then move on and be Erin’s mother.”

Tara sighed. She was having a hard time telling this man no. She couldn’t think of a logical argument to his suggestion. “Okay, I’ll stay—just until I’ve talked to the private investigator.”

Chapter Three

Late the next afternoon, Matt checked his rearview mirror to see Tara’s white compact following him. It took a lot of convincing, but she’d finally agreed to speak with the PI.

Matt settled in his seat as he drove through town. He liked this long, peaceful drive home. Heading up the Coast Highway, he caught a glimpse of the magnificent sunset over the Pacific Ocean. Only in California could you get such a beautiful view.

After medical school he’d applied to hospitals on the west coast. He ended up doing his internship and surgical residency at the University of San Francisco Hospital. He had been raised in Ohio and had been immediately seduced by the warmer year-round climate, but the ocean was his true love. After paying off his school loans and accepting a job at Riverhaven, he bought a condo with an ocean view. A few years back, he decided he wanted a house. His own private strip of beach. A home that would be far away from his demanding career—a place where he could find peace and solitude.

But there’d been very little peace for the past two days.

Just twenty-four hours ago he and little Erin had given blood and saliva samples. It wasn’t going to help. Of course, his lawyer had advised that a little insurance was imperative to keep him out of a paternity suit.

Matt recalled Tara’s words from last night. “I’ll never contact you again,” she’d said convincingly. But Matt knew he was in a vulnerable position. Just the fact of his being a much publicized surgeon in the community made him an easy target.

But he’d gotten a reprieve when Tara agreed to stay in town awhile. Matt wasn’t completely confident that she wouldn’t cause trouble. And now Tara and Erin were going to be closer than ever, invading his private territory, coming to his home.

Checking in his rearview mirror, he saw that Tara was still in his sights. He put on his turn signal and pulled off the highway onto a narrow winding road. He passed a few of his neighbors, their homes secluded from view of the road by trees and overgrown shrubs and vines. That was the reason people bought here—the solitude.

He reached the end of the road and the wrought-iron gate with the fuchsia-colored bougainvillea woven through the bars, nearly hiding the one-story brick and stucco structure behind it. He pressed the button overhead, and the electronic gate opened. Driving up the brick driveway, he hit another button. The garage door raised, and he parked his car in one of the three spots.

Matt climbed out, and the compact pulled up in the driveway. He waited as Tara got out, then went to help her with the baby. Their hands touched accidentally as he reached for the diaper bag, and she jumped. His skin tingled.

“Sorry, I wanted to help.”

“Thank you. I’m used to doing for myself.”

He couldn’t help but sense her uneasiness. He didn’t blame her. She must feel like she was being kidnapped. But he had to clear his name.

After she gathered the baby, Matt escorted her through the garage and into the house. They went through a spacious utility room, then continued into the large kitchen. The cabinets were whitewashed and the tiled countertops were Wedgwood blue. The spicy aroma of enchiladas baking in the oven teased his nose and made him smile. Juanita had made his favorite. His housekeeper for the past three years probably had gone all out when he’d called her earlier and announced he was bringing home a female guest for dinner.

“Juanita,” he summoned. “Where are you?”

“Just hold your horses,” the housekeeper exclaimed as she entered the kitchen. “So, you finally made it.”

Matt smiled at the woman in her late fifties. She had salt and pepper hair pulled into a bun. Still trim, she wore dark slacks and a white blouse.

Juanita only had eyes for the guests. “Welcome.” She went to Tara and shook her hand, then glanced at the baby. “Oh, my goodness, isn’t she adorable?” As if she understood, Erin began kicking her legs, waving her arms and making cooing sounds.

Tara set the carrier on the kitchen table and allowed the two to get to know each other.

“If you’d like, Juanita can watch Erin while you talk with the investigator.”

Tara’s green eyes darted from the baby to him. She was unable to hide her apprehension.

Matt went to the table and picked up the carrier. “Erin can go with us. Juanita, you can spoil her later.” Matt handed the carrier to Tara.

After a moment’s hesitation, Tara set Erin on the table. “I’m sorry, I guess I’m a little overprotective.”

“You can’t be too careful these days,” the housekeeper announced. “I have three grandchildren myself. I worry all the time.”

“Just don’t spoil her too much,” Tara warned.

The older woman grinned brightly. Matt knew the request would be ignored.

“Come with me, please,” he said.

Tara nodded and wondered what had possessed her to agree to come here. Despite Dr. Landers’s glowing reputation at the hospital, she didn’t really know the man. One thing was for sure, they both needed answers to this puzzle. Maybe together they could locate the mystery man who had taken over Dr. Matthew Landers’s name…and fathered Erin.

Tara followed Matt into a large dining room. The walls were painted light cream, and the sand-colored plush carpeting was soft under her feet, a beautiful contrast to the mahogany table and chairs polished to a high gloss. A hutch with cut-glass doors was filled with china and crystal. She glanced toward the living-room area. A sectional sofa sat in front of the fireplace along with a glass-topped coffee table on which expensive-looking figurines rested. But it didn’t look like anyone spent much time in here. What a shame not to enjoy the incredible view of the ocean through the huge picture window.

Tara turned to Matt. His piercing brown gaze was on her. His unspeaking eyes prolonged the moment just enough to spark an awareness. Finally she looked away and drew a breath. When she turned back, Matt had started down the hall. She hurried and caught up with him at a set of double doors. He pulled them open and walked into the den.

Tara’s gaze moved to the bookcases that took up one wall. Besides tons of medical books, there was a high-tech stereo system that probably required a degree in electronics to operate. Next to the bookcase sat a camel-colored leather sofa. On the opposite wall was a huge stone fireplace with a pair of very old golf clubs mounted on the face.

She walked to a set of French doors that led outside to a weathered deck and the backyard. Beyond a rise she could hear the ocean surf.

“You have a beautiful home.”

He stepped behind the desk. “Thank you. I spend most of my time in this room when I’m home.”

“I can understand why,” she said, imagining a blazing fire on a cold evening, soft music in the background and Matt sipping a glass of wine.

The doorbell rang, and Matt went to answer it.

Tara looked through the French doors. The lawn was a lush green and well cared for. About fifty yards across the grass toward the ocean, perched close to the bluff, was a pewter-colored cottage with burgundy trim. She smiled. It looked like a little gingerbread house.

She wandered to the mantel and glanced at the photographs, one of an elderly couple and a blond-haired boy. The towheaded Matt Landers looked to be about fourteen. He was tall and gangly and wore glasses. Who would have thought he’d turn out to be so handsome? Tara quickly turned her focus to other pictures of Dr. Landers and children. Who were they? Nieces, nephews, maybe patients?

She heard voices and returned to the sofa as a man followed Matt into the room.

“Tara, this is Jim Sloan, the investigator I told you about,” Matt said.

The investigator was in his mid-thirties and dressed in a sport shirt and dark trousers. He had brown hair that was a little long but neatly combed.

“Hello, Mr. Sloan,” Tara said.

“Please call me Jim. And may I call you Tara?” he asked as he pulled a chair toward the sofa. “I want to apologize for not being here sooner. I was delayed down south.”

She nodded.