Quarterback Daddy Read online

  On Wednesday, two mornings after her phone conversation with Roz, Alexis noted the NFL schedule for the following Sunday and then headed toward her bedroom, where it sounded as though Michelle had awakened from her nap. As soon as the baby saw her, she flashed her magical baby grin, and Alexis’s heart melted one more time. Her love for this child constantly astounded her. In the beginning, after Michelle was born, Alexis had had no idea how awesome motherhood would be.

  She changed Michelle’s diaper and returned to the living room that had morphed into an infant’s playground. “I bet you’re hungry, petunia, aren’t you? You’re always hungry.”

  Michelle’s brown eyes opened wide and she waved her arms with excitement. Alexis was just as excited. She would swear the baby was trying to talk to her. She kept up a stream of patter while she warmed the bottle of formula, all the while thinking about the excursion she’d planned for them that afternoon.

  A visit to Michelle’s father. She could no longer ignore Dan Delito’s existence.

  After racking her brain for other solutions, she was back to where she’d started. Quitting her job was not an option; she needed an income. But on her salary, she couldn’t afford proper day care. Her parents certainly weren’t an option, not with her father still hitting the bottle. So, she’d either lose Michelle to the foster care system, or she could split custody of the baby with Dan Delito. Money was certainly not a problem for him! She now had less than three weeks to work it out so she could return to her job.

  Alexis was almost a hundred percent sure Delito was the dad. Although her sister had never spoken about the father of her child, she’d had no reason to lie in the ambulance. Could she have realized, even as she lay dying, that Alexis would need the financial and emotional support of a partner, just as Alexis would have been a support for Sherri? Was that the reason her sister had whispered Dan’s name at the very end? Sherri had made foolish choices in her life, but there was nothing wrong with her IQ.

  And then there was the file of year-old newspaper clippings she’d found in Sherri’s apartment. Articles from the sports pages, mostly football, mostly Patriots, always Dan Delito’s name circled every time it appeared.

  She missed her sister, her pretty sister with the dazzling smile. Sometimes Alexis’s guilt choked her to the point of nausea. Alexis was older. She should have looked out for Sherri better. But Sherri could disappear like a wisp of smoke. She’d go off with girlfriends, with men, or follow her favorite teams. First with Alexis’s heavy schedule at school and her many part-time jobs, and then with her busy days at the D.A.’s office, she’d easily lost track of her sister’s activities.

  Excuses, excuses. Remorse pierced her again, and her lips trembled. “I’m going to take such good care of you, sweetheart,” she whispered to the baby. “And I’ll make sure that daddy of yours is superterrific before I leave you with him for even an hour.”

  THAT SAME WEDNESDAY afternoon, Dan Delito was watching Colts footage at home in his Beacon Hill neighborhood. The seventh game of the season would be played this Sunday at Gillette Stadium, the Patriots’ turf outside the city. They had a sold-out crowd of loyal fans, and now Dan sat forward in his leather club chair, studying the opposition’s habits, their strengths, their weaknesses. Where the possibilities lay. He thought about the guys on his own team, and how they stacked up against their counterparts.

  He drained his bottle of beer and threw the empty in the trash can with its brothers. Beer wasn’t like real alcohol; Kim had never minded him downing a beer. Of course, she’d never seen him drink a whole six-pack in an afternoon.

  He studied the screen again. Football. The one thing he could count on. If it weren’t for the game, he’d have nothing to make him get up in the morning. But now, Peyton Manning looked blurry. Geez! How fast was the Colts’ QB running? And why was he carrying the ball this time instead of handing it off? Maybe…maybe the guy wasn’t Manning? It wasn’t. The Colts’ receiver was heading for the end zone with no one blocking him. Dan made a mental note for his linebackers, cornerbacks and safeties. New England couldn’t allow that.

  His head began to pound, but he picked up the remote, rewound the tape and started watching from the beginning. Now he was so focused, he chose to ignore the ringing doorbell. It chimed a second time, and he made an annoyed gesture with his hand as though brushing off an insect. It couldn’t be anyone important. Both his immediate and extended families led busy lives in the middle of the day. They all worked hard. Weekends, of course, were different when Danny played. Then, the entire clan showed up at the stadium or watched the away games on television, usually at his parents’ house. The sport was definitely a family activity.

  When the doorbell rang a third time, Danny cursed out loud, hoisted himself from the chair and clambered down the mahogany staircase to the front door. He pulled it hard.

  “What?” he barked from the threshold.

  His visitor had already left, however, and was ten feet from his town house, her long hair bouncing against her back just below her shoulders. Thick, dark hair. Wavy hair.

  Time stopped, and he froze. He stared until she started to disappear. Then Dan stepped farther outside, where the bright sun blinded him and ratcheted up his headache to new levels of pain. He clutched the wrought-iron railing with one hand, while the other shaded his eyes enough so he could squint after the woman.

  Kim’s dark hair, her beautiful hair, bounced just like that once…. The same straight posture, the slender body and those long shapely legs below the skirt…

  He couldn’t breathe. Was God giving them another chance? Or was he hallucinating? Was this the d.t.’s?

  “Hello,” he called.

  She turned her head, her smile grew and she held her index finger up. “Hang on a sec.”

  Hell, yes! He’d hang on for hours if she asked. That smile. Pure sunshine. From a distance, he could only guess her eyes were dark as Kimmy’s were. He continued to watch her, then understood the delay. She was pushing a baby stroller, leaning over it and talking at the same time.

  He walked toward her, every step reverberating through his body, his head ready to explode. Pain didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to miss this chance.

  “You need some help?” he asked as he came abreast of her, memorizing every nuance. Not Kim. These eyes were hazel. This woman was a bit taller…but he found these small differences easy to ignore.

  She looked up then and stepped back. Whatever friendliness he’d thought he’d seen evaporated. Her eyes accused him as if she had the right.

  “Ugh! Your breath. It stinks…stinks from…beer. Well, I see this visit was a mistake. Just get away from me, and get far away from the baby.”

  He didn’t need a public scene. Besides, she didn’t sound like Kim. His Kim would never have made such a disgusted face at him. Of course, she’d have had no reason. He never drank in the old days. But it felt damn good now.

  He opened his arms wide. “Keep your cool. I’m leaving. No harm, no foul.” He turned to go and heard her voice again.

  “You are Dan Delito, aren’t you?”

  Another groupie. He didn’t need this. Or…maybe he did. The girls came in handy after a game, when the guys were high off a win or needed consolation after a loss. For a little while, anyway, Dan could forget about cancer and Kim’s ordeal. He could forget about feeling lost himself.

  Keeping his distance, he said, “And what if I am?”

  “Is that a yes or a no?” she asked, stepping in front of the baby stroller, her head tilted back to meet his gaze.

  He studied her at length, all heavenly ideas forgotten. No hallucinations. No miracles. No second chances. The woman was not like Kim at all. “What are you, some kind of lawyer?”

  “Touchdown. So, answer the question.”

  This barracuda could have chewed Kim up and spit her out. However, he wasn’t Kim.

  “Who’s asking?” he demanded, standing his ground.

  For the first time, she hesitated,
her gaze traveling from the top of his head down to his running shoes. Finally, she pulled a card from her purse—as well as a stick of gum—and handed both to him. “My name is Alexis Brown.”

  “I see,” he said, studying the card. “The District Attorney’s office?” The black print seemed to dance on the white background, but he thought he’d read the words correctly. “What’s this all about?” He considered his activities during the last few days and remembered nothing unusual. Of course, he might not be remembering everything….

  The woman seemed to have come to a decision. “I’m sorry, Mr. Delito. I see I’ve made a mistake. Why don’t we both forget about this visit? You can go back inside and…and do whatever it is a player does in the afternoon, and I’ll get out of your way.”

  She put her hand out to retrieve her business card, but his reflexes were still quick, and he whipped it behind his back. “Not so fast.”

  Her eyebrows hit her hairline. “Yes, fast. I’m outta here, right now.” But her gaze lingered on him for a moment, then she shrugged. “I bet you’ll never remember this conversation anyway…you’ll think it was a vague dream after you sleep it off.” She sighed audibly. “That’s the way it works when Jack Daniel’s takes over.”

  She started walking toward the corner, but as she turned away he caught a glimpse of her expressive face, so poignant and soft when she looked at the baby. He heard her mumbling to herself, saw her shaking her head.

  He unwrapped the stick of gum and chewed hard. He’d remember the conversation, all right, because he wouldn’t forget her resemblance to Kim. Returning to his house, he tucked her card in his wallet.

  DISAPPOINTMENT HIT HER with the ferocity of a thunderstorm. Alexis took several deep breaths as she walked the long way home with the baby, realizing for the first time how much she’d been counting on Dan Delito to be the answer to her dilemma. But there was no way she’d relinquish Michelle to a drunk, no matter how handsome or famous or powerful. What a waste.

  Had she not done her research, she would have kicked herself. But she had. She’d looked for information about Dan Delito everywhere, scouring the newspapers, the Internet, Sports Illustrated and other magazines for comments about him from his teammates. She’d learned he’d been born in the north end of the city, came from a big extended Italian family, graduated from Ohio State, got married shortly afterward. Seven years later, his wife died. He’d been seen at a couple of clubs with different women in the past year, but nothing more remarkable than that. No drunken scenes, no scandals. No nothing.

  Since August, a month after Michelle’s birth, Alexis had followed the team’s progress at training camp and through four preseason games and now through the regular season. She thought she’d done her due diligence.

  None of the newspaper articles mentioned a drinking problem. So, somehow, his drinking didn’t interfere with his performance on the field.

  “Not yet, anyway,” she murmured to herself. But it would at some point, just as it had with her father. Among other things, Calvin Brown was a functioning alcoholic who’d lost his business after almost a lifetime of drinking. Dan would lose his career, too. It was a question of when, not if.

  She looked into the stroller. “In the end, Michelle, the liquor always wins. It can turn some people into monsters. So no drunken daddy for you. We’ll have to think of something else.”

  In the half hour it took her to walk home and go upstairs, she came up with several work-from-home ideas, but nothing practical. Nothing that paid well from the start. But at least she’d taken some definitive action. A real estate agent was visiting her tomorrow. They’d discuss listing her condo.

  A few minutes after she changed Michelle’s diaper, her cell phone rang.

  “Alexis speaking.”

  “I’m not an alcoholic. You just caught me at a bad time.”

  She recognized Delito’s voice instantly. “At two in the afternoon? Give me a break. Besides, you don’t owe me an explanation. We’re done.”

  “Does law school teach you to make snap decisions?”

  “I had evidence and plenty of it.”

  “And I had extenuating circumstances. My ninth wedding anniversary. It’s been a tough week. You might want to consider that before you rush to judgment.”

  She let out a slow breath, remembering he was a widower. “Point to you, Mr. Delito. I’ll reserve judgment—for now.” She was surprised he sounded coherent.

  “So, what does the D.A.’s office want with me?”

  He called because he was worried, but it was an easy question. “Absolutely nothing, Mr. Delito. I came on a personal matter. My business card was all I had on me.”

  “A personal matter? Want to explain that?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t. I’m also sorry about your wife, but you were in a bad way today, and I’m not ready to chat. I don’t know whether to trust you yet.”

  He disconnected the call.

  She stared at the silent mobile, satisfied at having learned something about him. The man had pride. She hoped there was substance behind it.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “BARRACUDA” HAD BEEN a compliment—the woman was a shark. Dan’s nostrils flared and his mouth tightened as he fingered her business card in the kitchen of his town house. Not trust him? A fifty-five-man roster trusted his every move. Ten teammates watched him like hawks on the field, not to mention the opposition players checking him out. He hadn’t disappointed his men yet, and he wouldn’t. The game was the only thing he had left.

  Her card said, Alexis Brown, J.D. Well, he had his own lawyers—paid them plenty to read his contracts, monitor stories in the press and keep him out of trouble. Now Andy Romano could do some research, as well. His closest pal when they were growing up, Andy had recently been made a partner in his firm. Talk about trust—they’d take a bullet for each other. He punched in his friend’s number.

  “I need a favor.”

  Andy’s laugh made Danny laugh. “You’re paying me, Danny-boy. It’s not a favor. Shoot.”

  Dan read the information from Alexis’s business card. “Find out what you can about her. I don’t know why she came to the house, but she had something serious on her mind. She wasn’t a groupie and…she had a baby with her.”

  A long, low whistle came through the phone. “A baby? Danny-boy, suddenly, I’m thinking something not-so-good.”

  “No way. She’s one woman I’d never forget. And I never saw her until today.”

  “Excellent. I’m breathing again. I’ll start with public records right away and get back to you later. It shouldn’t take too long. Oh, and I’ll be in the stands on Sunday. Think we’ll make it through to the you-know-what this year?”

  Dan groaned. The Super Bowl. That was the single topic of the football season he avoided. Hated questions about it, so didn’t allow his friends or family to even say the S word within his hearing. Occasionally they got creative, but he never offered a direct answer.

  “I take it one contest at a time, my man. One game is all I can concentrate on. But come to the house after the game and bring Pauline. We have an early kickoff at noon. Plenty of time to party afterward. The whole family will be here.”

  “Will do.”

  Dan disconnected and made his way to his home gym in the basement, bypassing the cold beer in the fridge and ignoring his liquor cabinet. He needed a clear head. Alternating the stationary bike with the Bowflex machine, he worked up a sweat, felt the renewed strength in his arms and legs and started to focus on Sunday. Tomorrow he’d be on the field for a practice with the offensive line. The guys would be looking to him and the coaches. He had to be ready. He would be ready. No drinking.

  When Andy called over an hour later, Dan was out of the shower and back in front of the television, screening footage again.

  “What’ve you got?” asked Dan.

  “Basics so far. A hometown girl from Southie. Thirty-one years old. Graduated from Boston University Law two years ago and went right into the D
.A.’s office. It took her eight years to get her undergrad degree, so her career started later than usual.”

  “Married?” asked Dan.

  “No record of it.”

  “What about the kid?”

  “I can do some deeper digging tomorrow,” Andy said.

  “Maybe she was babysitting.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t like the idea of a home visit. You never know when the paparazzi gets wind of something or invents a story from thin air. I don’t like it at all.” He paused. “Did you smell like a brewery?”

  “Maybe a bit.” Despite his best efforts, Dan’s voice had a sharp edge.

  “So, Danny—how’s that going?”

  “I’m fine. And I don’t need another father.” He had everything under control.

  “I couldn’t be Nicky if I tried. But I love you like a brother, Danny, and I care. Pauline cares, too. She worries about you.”

  Andy and Pauline. Danny and Kim. They used to pal around often together in the old days. Close friends. Trusting friends. They’d shared so much, including the pain of losing Kim.

  “Andy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Today, when that woman came over…for a minute, I thought she was Kimmy.” His voice broke.

  “Oh, hell, Danny. I’ll be right there.”

  That’s what friends did for friends. Dan was one lucky dude. “Thanks, but don’t bother. My folks threatened to return tonight. I’ll be fine. In fact, I am fine. In the end, she wasn’t Kim.”

  With a heavy heart, he said goodbye and clicked the phone off.

  IN HER CONDO THE NEXT DAY, Alexis cringed when she signed the listing papers with the real estate agent.