Quarterback Daddy Read online

  “I love this place,” she said to the young woman with the fat notebook and laptop. “I bought it with my very own money, my very own hard-earned money. A good down payment. Lived on a strict budget. And now, I’ll be taking a loss on the investment. I can’t believe it, but I need to generate cash.” She glanced at the baby in the swing.

  For the first time in her life, she missed having what she knew other women had—girlfriends. Girlfriends to talk things over with, to ask for advice and give advice in return. In childhood she’d had to watch every word and keep her family life a secret. In those days, she and Sherri had been a twosome, depending solely on each other.

  Between her part-time jobs and schoolwork, she’d had no time to cultivate friendships in college. At least, that’s what she told herself. She wasn’t too good at forming relationships with men, either. She’d had one brief love affair as a student that ended badly—all her fault. She still cringed at the memories. But now, she needed someone to talk to, a friend of either gender. Life was becoming more complicated, not less, and at this moment, she was chatting with a virtual stranger.

  “Maybe you could advertise for a roommate,” said the real estate agent. “I won’t make any money—I’m talking myself out of a listing here—but, frankly, I’ve known some hard times myself.”

  Alexis listened and hope soared. “A roommate?” New idea. With other people around, she could really brainstorm. “I’ll let you know if anything changes, but in the meantime, list the apartment. And please keep an eye out for an inexpensive rental—if such a thing exists in this city.”

  After the agent left, she called Roz.

  “If I had a regular roommate, a working woman like me, her rent could help me pay for daycare,” she told the social worker in a breathless rush.

  “That could work, but I’d have to investigate anyone you brought into your home at this point.”

  That made sense. Roz’s job was to protect Michelle. “Well…do you know someone looking for a place to live?” A recommendation from Roz would seal the deal.

  “I’d have to think about it. But…Alexis, I want to be up-front with you.” The woman’s words came slowly. “I’m preparing the foster care paperwork, just in case. The days are flying by, and foster families appreciate a heads-up. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, my God, Roz! You can’t do that. Michelle loves me, and I love her. She’s mine. And besides, transferring her to strangers would be letting Sherri down.”

  “The baby is yours, Alexis. That doesn’t change. This is simply a temporary measure until your finances are under control and day care arrangements can be made.”

  But Alexis’s nerve endings jangled, warning bells clanged, and her stomach lurched. This nightmare couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Not to Michelle. There were plenty of single parents successfully raising kids by themselves. Was she any less capable? She couldn’t believe that, but…but maybe those women received child support or other aid that she didn’t have.

  She trusted Roz—one of the very few people she did trust—and now the woman had given her something new to worry about.

  “Surely, there has to be something available for me,” Alexis said.

  “I’m so sorry, Alexis, but you already know that daycare assistance is need-based, and your income is too high for us to underwrite you.”

  The nightmare continued. She had less than three hundred dollars left in the bank, which she’d earmarked for emergencies. Now, a headache took root, pounding harder with each minute that passed. Her legs danced with nervous energy, the way they had when she was a kid. The whole world had been against her then, too. A world of broken promises.

  Yes, you can. No, you can’t. College? Foolish girl. Who do you think you are?

  She usually tried not to look back. But now, she actually stroked her cheek as she hung up the phone, remembering the slaps. The punches. And worse.

  With all his money, Dan Delito could solve her problems. He might even want to know he had a child. But did he deserve another chance? She simply didn’t know. And she couldn’t put Michelle at risk with a drunk.

  BY THE THIRD QUARTER OF Sunday’s game, the teams were tied at fourteen. They seemed evenly matched to Alexis, with two touchdowns at six points each and good kicks for the points after. From the recesses of her mind, she’d dredged up the little football knowledge she’d stored.

  “Delito gets the snap,” called the TV announcer, “and is sacked right in the pocket….”

  Alexis saw was a bunch of huge guys in a pile and guessed that Dan was on the very bottom. He hadn’t had a chance to pass the ball. The fans in the stadium were quiet. Not a good sign.

  “Seems like the guy’s in trouble, Michelle. Maybe he’s not concentrating.” Maybe he had a hangover. No, that wasn’t a fair assessment. Football was a ferocious contact sport; it was easy to get sacked.

  The baby vocalized her agreement, and Alexis leaned down to smother her in kisses, as she did a dozen times a day. The sweet pea loved “talking” with her about any subject and continued babbling now. Alexis had a better time playing with the baby than watching the game.

  An hour later, after Dan had been sacked twice more, the two-minute warning sounded. Dan threw a long straight pass to his wide receiver, who ran the ball for almost thirty yards and blasted into the end zone. Touchdown. Patriots’ victory.

  “And the crowd goes wild…” she murmured, fascinated by the unabashed enthusiasm in the stadium. The fans had lived and breathed each play, their emotions on a rollercoaster ride throughout the afternoon. She understood it intellectually but didn’t feel it as though they did. Her own life was filled with rollercoaster emotions based on real issues. Didn’t these people have lives of their own? Shouldn’t they be pursuing their own goals, rather than someone else’s artificial ones on a football field of dreams? It was only a game. A waste of time.

  She was about to turn the television off when the cameras focused on the press box and an interview with Dan Delito and Al Tucker, the wide receiver. Helmets off, but they were dressed in their dark blue uniforms with their signature logo—a patriot’s face and tricornered hat—on the sleeve. As she studied Delito, she had to admit the quarterback could hold his own in the good looks department. Well-built, certainly. Thick dark hair, a surprisingly straight nose after his long career, and a firm mouth. Handsome, but also rugged with his square jaw and scruffy beard. Man, she’d noticed a load of details, appealing and attractive details.

  “It was crunch time today, Dan,” said the announcer. “How’d you do it in the end?”

  Dan spoke into the microphone. “Like I always do. With the help of my teammates. Al Tucker was on the mark. He got through the Colts’ defensive line—a tough line, by the way. Great work from this guy.” He slapped Tucker on the shoulder.

  “You got sacked at few times today. How do you feel?”

  “Like I got sacked a few times today.” Delito grinned at the interviewer, eyes gleaming. “I’ll live.”

  The two players walked off, laughing to each other. Dan, however, sported a slight limp. Being underneath a pile of gladiators must not have been fun, but he hadn’t complained.

  Alexis stared at the screen for several minutes after the men had disappeared. There was no way Dan Delito had an ounce of alcohol in him today. Not the way he played. Not the way he spoke. And not the way he looked. His eyes had sparkled with humor, he knew exactly what he was doing, and he moved with the smooth grace of the athlete he was.

  Maybe she really had caught him at a bad moment because of his anniversary. One indulgence didn’t mean he was an addict.

  She was going to visit him again.

  DAN CALLED HER MONDAY morning, before she could plan the outing.

  “Did you watch the game?” No hello. No how-are you.

  “How’s the leg?” she asked.

  His chuckle was deep and rich, almost musical, and caused shivers to run through her.

  “Whaddyaknow? She’s a fan.”

>   It was her turn to laugh. “Hmm…Not quite. What I understand about football could be be written on the head of a pin. But I saw enough to reconsider a meeting. I—I might have rushed to judgment the other day.”

  “Well, I appreciate that,” he drawled, his voice now laced with a touch of sarcasm. “So tell me why I should care. What’s this ‘business’ all about?”

  Alexis took a deep breath. “I won’t discuss it on the phone. It’s too private and important. But I’d be happy to meet you in the Common at the Frog Pond, or I could come to your place again. Whatever you’d prefer.”

  “My lawyer says to stay away from you. He says he found you mentioned in several news articles and you’re trouble.”

  He worked fast. Did he think he needed protection? “Your lawyer? I’m sure I don’t even know your lawyer. I’m just a little cog in the D.A.’s wheel.”

  “A little cog? Not for long, Alexis Brown, not after graduating law school at the top of the class, not after doing the same in political science at the undergrad level. No, ma’am. I predict you’ll score your own touchdowns one day soon.”

  She hadn’t been expecting an investigation. Or a compliment. “Congratulations. I see you’ve done your homework, Mr. Delito. Or your attorney’s done it.”

  “Same thing. He’s got my back.” His words lingered, before he added, “Understand where I’m coming from?”

  “I sure do,” she replied, trying not to laugh at his implied threat. “You sound like a lousy actor in a bad melodrama. There’s no blackmail here, and if you’re worried about paparazzi, well—they give me hives, too. So, don’t bother calling again unless you want to arrange a meet.”

  She hung up. He could be the answer to all her problems, or he could be a bigger problem. But to find out, he had to commit.

  Her cell rang. “Alexis Brown.”

  “My house. Two o’clock. I never turn down an invitation from a beautiful woman.”

  SHE RANG THE BELL at two-fifteen, and the door opened immediately. He must have been watching for her from the window.

  “Sorry we’re late,” she said. “The baby slept longer than usual, and we missed our train by seconds.”

  He stood back, allowing her room to wheel the infant inside. “You dragged that stroller onto the T?” he asked, his voice filled with amazement.

  She inhaled quickly three times and detected no alcohol on his breath—her first item of business. So far, so good. “Sure,” she replied to his question. “We either walk or use public transportation. Last time, we walked here. Today is overcast and colder.”

  “Next time, use a car service.”

  Was he kidding? “I work for Suffolk County, Mr. Delito, not for rich private clients who break the law and want a get-out-of-jail card.”

  His eyes narrowed, his mouth tightened. He seemed to be taking her remark personally, and she hadn’t meant it that way at all. Did he have a guilty conscience? This was no way to begin their conversation.

  She glanced around the entrance foyer and saw elegance everywhere. “You have a beautiful home, Mr. Delito.”

  “All Kim’s doing.”

  Suddenly, she was concerned about tracking dirt onto the polished parquet floors of the stately house. She started to voice her concerns, but Dan waved her through to the kitchen in the back. A comfortable room, probably remodeled in recent years, it featured contemporary cabinets and materials, including a beautiful granite countertop.

  Alexis unzipped the baby’s bunting bag and took off her hat, revealing the beginnings of her strawberry-blonde cap of hair.

  “He’s a cute kid,” said Dan. “Maybe he’ll play football one day.”

  “Not quite,” she replied, smiling. “His name is Michelle, and she will not be a cheerleader. Don’t even go there!”

  He chuckled for a moment, looking comfortable and relaxed, then leaned his hip against the table and crossed his arms. He looked her in the eye. “So, Alexis Brown. Just why are you here?”

  Dan Delito watched the woman pull something from her purse. A picture. Showing it to him, she asked, “Do you recognize her?”

  He glanced at the image of a pretty woman, auburn curls, high cheekbones. She called herself Sunshine. “A nice girl with a quick wit. Very funny and upbeat. She was always showing up at the hotels and making herself…shall we say…good company.”

  “Good com-pan-y?” The woman’s eyes were as big and round as dinner plates, her complexion alabaster-white, her voice barely audible as she now whispered, “Just give me a minute. Reality is making a house call.”

  He’d give her as long as she needed to avoid fainting. He heard her take a deep breath. Saw her shoulders straighten. Watched color return to her cheeks.

  “Great recovery, Alexis Brown. You can play on my team anytime at all.”

  Those hazel eyes flashed golden sparks, enhancing her determined expression. “I hope you mean that.” She turned to coo at the baby and give her a soft musical rattle before placing the picture on the table.

  “This is Sherri,” she began, her index finger on the photo. “The baby is my niece, Sherri’s daughter. Sherri was my sister.”

  Studying the photograph again, he said, “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Brown.” He tilted his head toward the baby. “And hers.” He allowed silence to grow between them, and in a very soft voice, said, “And what does all this have to do with me?”

  Without a word, she rummaged in her purse again, removed an envelope and handed him a newspaper clipping. “I’ll give you a minute to read this.”

  He took it, ready to scan the brief article, but the murder–suicide mentioned in the headline made him take his time. His lawyer had told him about this, but Dan hadn’t seen any of the stories himself. “This is tough,” he said slowly, “but again, I ask you—what does this have to do with me?” An unwelcome idea was beginning to form, an idea he and Andy had flirted with, but he wasn’t going to put words in the woman’s mouth or make it easier for her.

  “I was in the ambulance,” she began. “I was with Sherri to the…the very end. And the last words she whispered to me before she died were, ‘Call Dan Delito…he’s the dad.’”

  His suspicions were confirmed, but the woman was way off base. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been with Sunshine—uh, Sherri. Hadn’t he been careful that night? Had the damn condom broken? He had no idea. He usually fell asleep quickly afterward.

  “You’ve got a problem on your hands,” he said. “But I’m not the answer.” The best defense was always an offense. He stepped away from the table and leaned over her. “You and what army are going to make me believe that I’m the father?”

  Her blank stare made him chuckle. “Did you really think I’d go along with this? I’m sorry about your sister, Ms. Brown. I truly am. But she was a good-time girl. She could have slept with a dozen guys that month for all I know.”

  Her lips pressed against each other, her nostrils widened and her complexion flushed to a bright red. Alexis Brown looked ready to blow like an overheated pressure cooker. She had chutzpah, all right, to be angry because he didn’t agree with her script.

  “She named only one man in that ambulance, Mr. Delito, and that was you.”

  “Quarterbacks—”

  She held up a hand to prevent his reply. “She should have approached you while she was pregnant….”

  “But she didn’t, because it’s not mine.”

  “I know it’s a shock, and I’m sorry about that.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re not sorry at all, and I’m not having this conversation without my own lawyer.”

  She shrugged. “Call anyone you want. I’ve got nothing to hide. A DNA test will reveal the truth anyway.”

  She had a point, but he wanted backup. He punched the autodial on his cell. “Andy—I need you here at the house—ASAP. Yep. You got it. Smart man.” He disconnected and gestured widely. “Ten minutes. Take off your coat. Make yourself comfortable.”

  “Th
at was quick service,” she said, nodding toward his cell. “The retainer alone must be a fortune.”

  There was an edgy quality to her tone, and he didn’t reply. He’d remember the connotation, however. Money. He wasn’t surprised. Most people thought life was all about money. He’d learned differently.

  She placed her jacket on a chair and began fussing over the infant, peering at Dan as she worked. “Sherri circled your name in every news clipping she saved. Every time it appeared. Why do you suppose she’d do that?”

  A dozen reasons, but he wasn’t going there. Professional athletes were easy targets. He quickly thought of three players in the league who’d made headlines last year—not the kind of headlines they’d wanted. All involving women.

  “Want a soft drink?” He opened the fridge and pulled out a can of soda for her, poured a vitamin-laced sports drink for himself.

  “Oh, sweetheart, you’re kicking and talking! You like your freedom, don’t you?”

  Amazing how her voice changed when she spoke to the infant. The edginess had disappeared. The tenderness and love she showered on that baby…the expression on the woman’s face…God, she was beautiful. Her laugh warmed the room. Warmed him. She was still laughing when she requested a plastic bag for the diaper.

  “Sure.” He started rummaging through the walk-in pantry. He had no idea where his housekeeper kept bags. Relieved to hear the doorbell, he waved Alexis to the shelves. “Your guess is as good as mine. If you can find them, help yourself.”

  She pointed at two drawers near the sink. “Mind if I try those?”

  “Mi casa es su casa,” he murmured, heading toward the front of the house.

  “Bingo!”

  She must have found her quarry. He heard her chatting to the baby while he let Andy inside and quickly briefed him. They entered the kitchen together.

  “What the he—?” Andrew Romano, respected new partner in a prestigious Boston law firm, stopped in his tracks, his eyes on Alexis, his complexion now paler than snow. “A doppelgänger,” he whispered. “She looks…looks…No wonder she’s giving you the shakes.”