Quarterback Daddy (3 page)

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.”

S
HE 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.”

“That 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.”

“I got over that quickly, Andrew. She’s not Kim. My wife would never have concocted a scheme like this woman has.”

A
LEXIS WHIPPED OUT HER
business cards and offered one to Dan’s friend. He took it. “A scheme, gentlemen? I think not. My professional reputation is on the line.”
The best defense was always an offense.

She extended her hand to Romano. “Alexis Brown, D.A.’s office, although I’m here on personal business. I’m sure Mr. Delito has filled you in.” She allowed a question to remain in her voice.

“I’d like to hear it from you,” replied the lawyer.

She summarized the situation. “And of course, the point is moot without a DNA test. Which is why I’m here.”

“Your reasons wouldn’t include cold cash, would they?” asked Dan. “As in extortion? Or on behalf of the
tabloids? The gossip rags? I understand they pay a fortune for stories.”

His sarcasm hit her like a blow to the gut, and she almost staggered backward. “On my sister’s life,” she said with quiet dignity, “I haven’t shared this information with anyone. Not even with Michelle’s social worker.”

She ignored Delito and addressed the other attorney. “I suggest we arrange the DNA test privately without a court order.” Her eyes rested on the now-sleeping baby. “Michelle and I…well, we don’t need another news article. We don’t want publicity any more than your client does.”

Romano nodded, but Dan wouldn’t stay ignored. “Damn right, we’re doing it privately.” He glanced at the baby. “She’s a cute kid, but I’m not taking her on unless she’s one hundred percent mine.”

“That’s absolutely fair, Mr. Delito. My interest is in child support from the
real
father. So if the test turns out not to be a match, then you’ll never see me or the baby again.”

“I’ll arrange for the team doc and a lab tech to come to Dan’s house,” said Romano. “You’ll hear from me by tomorrow afternoon. We’ll take a swab from the baby, of course, but we’ll also want a sample from you, Ms. Brown, to verify your relationship to Michelle. Nothing personal, but celebrities are easy targets.”

“No problem. I’m her auntie.” She glanced toward the window. “It looks like rain. I’ve got to leave.”

“Andy will give you a ride home,” said Dan quickly, with a meaningful glance at his friend.

She rattled off her address. “Don’t play games with
me. If you want to know where I live, just ask. I said I have nothing to hide, and I meant it.” She buttoned her coat, zipped Michelle’s bunting bag and tucked the blanket around her. “Good evening, gentlemen. We’re done here.” She headed for the door.

“I insist on giving you a lift,” said Romano. “My car’s right outside.”

“Thanks. But I’m used to public transportation.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” said Dan. “Think of the baby. It’s cold now.” He turned to his friend. “See what I mean? She’s not like Kim at all.”

W
AS HE OR WASN
’
T HE
a dad? The DNA swab had been taken on Thursday, and on the field for a Friday practice, Dan’s concentration was shot. A bad thing with a game in Philly on Sunday. The Philadelphia Eagles would be ready for them—ready and eager to take them down. But his thoughts kept swirling. He threw the ball like a robot and monitored the field with only a tiny portion of his brain, as though he were watching himself play from afar.

Besides the baby question…there was Alexis Brown. Stubborn, intelligent, bold. And beautiful. Like a chess player, she’d figured out all his moves in advance, covering her shapely ass, anticipating his objections. Not even the presence of his lawyer had shaken her. And in the end, she’d gotten her wish. He’d been suckered into a paternity test.

“Hey, Delito!”

Dan spun around to see Sean Callan, his personal coach, trotting up to him.

“Where’s your head right now?”

“Sorry, Coach. I’m with you.”

“The hell you are.” Callan nodded toward the team. “They’re starting to worry about you. Were you drinking last night?”

Startled, Dan stepped back. The guys knew he kept sober on the weekends. “Not a friggin’ drop. And I know the playbook cold.” Fifty running plays, two hundred passing plays. All choreographed and in his head. Usually. But today…

“Then prove it. Philly wants our blood. If you can’t cut it, Rick won’t let you start, despite that magic arm of yours. And what am I going to tell him?” he asked, referring to the team’s head coach.

“You won’t need to tell him anything.” Dan jogged to his receiving line. “Pass patterns, guys.” Then he called to Sean. “Where’s the blindfold?”

The men started to grin. This was the Dan they loved. The Dan they wanted. He knew it, and he wanted it, too. He wanted the respect, the love, the wins. Now they’d have tough fun with exact pass patterns. The players always said that with so much practice, they could run pass patterns in their sleep. A blindfold was the next best thing.

Suddenly, the entire offensive coaching staff was there. Offensive coordinator, and the offensive line coach with head coach, Rick Thompson, watching everyone. Seemed like the whole organization was interested in the skills of Dan Delito.

Dan glanced at Al Tucker. “Five-step-right. Be there.” They formed a line of scrimmage at the thirty-yard hash mark. Dan put on the blindfold, called the play, ran his steps and threw the ball. He pulled the eye cover off quickly, in time to see the ball fly right at Tucker’s chest. The receiver made a perfect catch and ran with it to the end zone. Fun with no opponents.

Cheers went up, good sounds, solid sounds. Confident sounds.

“What are you all standing around for?” he called. “The coaches are waiting.”

Either he was or he wasn’t a daddy, and he’d find out on Monday, after the Philly game. Right now, however, he had a job to do.

T
HE SPECIAL DELIVERY LETTER
arrived at Alexis’s house at 9:00 a.m. Monday morning. Dan’s phone call came at 9:10.

“When can you get over here? We need to talk.”

Her hand trembled, holding the letter. She was still staring at it, and had been for the entire ten minutes. “Maybe tomorrow,” she blurted. “I need time to get my mind around this.”

“Ms. Brown—you’ve had three months to ‘get your mind around it.’I’m the one still reeling. For crying out loud—this news changes my whole life!”

“In a good way or a bad way?” she asked, wishing she could see his expression.

“Hmm…I guess that remains to be seen. Is she a good kid?”

“I think I’ll save the congratulations,” she muttered.

“Say again? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Never mind. It’s just that theory is different from reality,” she said. “The results are real, and I need time to adjust, also. I’ll call you tomorrow.” And she hung up.

Not her most professional moment, but she’d had no idea the truth would slam her with such force. Make her insecurities shoot skyward. The baby…the baby! What if he simply took her away? She’d been counting on a shared arrangement. Split custody, with Dan providing
the funds for child care while she provided the baby with the real home. She’d agree to some weekend arrangement or midweek arrangement for him—whatever worked with his schedule.

But now he was the proven
father.
Suddenly, the word took on incredible power. How powerful was an aunt? Would Alexis now need her own lawyer to represent her interests? To ensure her presence in Michelle’s life?

The phone rang again, and she answered it, feeling as tense as when waiting for a jury verdict.

“Don’t hang up.”

She tapped her fingers on the table.
Be nice. Be friendly. You need his cooperation.
“Okay. I’m still with you.”

“I need your cooperation, Ms. Brown,” he began, strangely echoing her own thought. “In fact, we need a little teamwork here.”

“In all due respect, Mr. Delito, I think I’ve already done my part. I’ve just given you the—the most wonderful gift in the world.” Her throat tightened on swallowed sobs. “What more can you possibly want?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Your silence—until the organization and I figure out how to release the news without harm done to anyone.”

“What organization? Harm? To whom?”

“You’re a smart woman, so I’ll let you figure that out,” he said, his voice patient, calm. “Three, two, one—” he counted.

“Football.”

“Knew you’d make the connection.”

But of course. The New England Patriots. The NFL.
Little by little, she was beginning to acknowledge that she was dealing with another world right now, a thousand miles out of her league. However, she wasn’t out of the game.

“Mr. Delito, I’m sure you understand I care only about Michelle’s well-being. A baby is not nurtured by a committee or an ‘organization.’ She’s nurtured by people who love her. You’re a big boy. You can handle the rest of it. She is safe and sound with me.”

Her
career was safe. Her office already knew about Alexis being Michelle’s custodian. No problems there.

“Safe and sound? I hope so. For the baby’s sake, keep your mouth shut or you’ll have photographers at your door before lunchtime.”

Silence pounded her ears while his words sank in. She would never, ever call the newspapers, but he was absolutely correct. They’d find her. In Boston, Dan Delito carried the same fame as a Hollywood movie star. In fact, he was sure to be famous on the West Coast, too.

“Oh-h-h…”

“Now do you get it?” he asked quietly.

She sighed. “I get it.”

“Ms. Brown,” he began again. “Alexis—listen hard. I know you’re a smart lawyer who deals with a lot of people with complicated problems. But you’ve got no experience with aggressive paparazzi. I went through this when my wife died. Headlines everywhere. They were sympathetic, but I was under a microscope anyway. And the situation we have now is, shall we say, nastier. It has salacious overtones, perfect for gossip and melodrama. Frankly, it doesn’t get juicier than murder and suicide.”

Nice speech, but he was wrong about some things. “Have you forgotten the clipping I showed you at your house, Mr. Delito? My name was in it, too.”

“Call me Dan. At this point, we’re a team.”

Not really,
but she said, “Okay, Dan. Unfortunately, I’ve also been in the papers regarding cases I’ve handled. And I agree with you. I didn’t like it, but it goes with the territory. So, I won’t say a word—Oh, dammit! I just remembered—Roz, the social worker, is coming today.”

“Cancel the visit,” he responded. “And do it now. Then call me back. I need to know about social workers, about doctors. I need to know everything that’s happened since the baby’s birth.” This time, he was the one who disconnected.

Alexis still hadn’t told Roz about her search for Dan Delito, the possible father who was now the confirmed father. Speculation helped no one. But now, even in her overwrought state, she knew his identity had larger implications. If she revealed Dan Delito’s involvement, could her new friend keep it confidential? Not that Roz would intentionally gossip, but it would go into her report, into a computer. Once others in her office knew, all of Boston would know—and then all of America.

Was that fair to Dan? To Michelle? Or even to her? Her stomach flip-flopped. She, herself, might be the target of gossip all over her office. Suddenly, her strong safety net seemed frayed, the mesh ripped with holes. Her request for family leave, which was almost over, might be looked on with suspicion. Quarterback Dan Delito was a wealthy man. He could have afforded a slew of child-care providers. And now the story would
hit the papers. Not good. Dan was right. It was better to control the news than be victimized by a leak.

Okay. Her brain was working again. One step at a time. She picked up the phone.

“Roz, hi. It’s Alexis. I think I’m coming down with a nasty cold. Could we postpone our visit until later this week? So sorry for the last-minute notice.”

She listened to advice about face masks and chicken soup, and felt guilty about her white lie. Roz had become as close a friend as Alexis had ever had. She hoped the woman would later agree that the circumstances had been extraordinary. Extraordinary enough to warrant a little deception.

D
AN KNEW ONLY ENOUGH
about babies to realize they were a lot of trouble. A lot of work. But that would come later. Now, he should call his lawyer, his agent, his coach, the head coach, the club’s owner—all of his businesspeople—and, of course, his family.
Mama mia,
his mother! His dad. But as he waited for Alexis to call him back, he sat in his kitchen, immobile, thinking only about the baby…and the baby’s aunt.

The woman haunted him every time he had a minute to relax. And then he’d think about Kim. The two women were physically similar only at first glance. Their true resemblance was revealed when Alexis showed her love for that baby. When she nuzzled the infant, her features softened, and her sweetness overflowed. In those special moments, his heart almost stopped and Kim’s name rose to his tongue. So far, he’d been able to clamp his jaw shut. But he’d never forgotten how Kim had yearned to be a mom.

He had no doubt that the lawyer loved her niece, so he wouldn’t shut her out. He’d allow her to visit him and the baby from time to time—after he figured out how to become a little family with Michelle. A family. Kim should have been part of this family. She should have had the chance. A child would have been the most fantastic touchdown in their personal lives.

Damn, he needed a drink.

He reached into the fridge for a brewski, then glanced at his watch and groaned. Too early—even he knew that. He slammed the refrigerator door, felt beads of sweat pop out on his skin. He wanted that beer. Time to change focus.

The woman hadn’t phoned him back yet. Ten minutes was enough time for a quick call to the social worker. He glanced at Alexis’s business card and punched in her number again. Next step was to enter it into his cell’s autodial.

“Alexis Brown.”

“What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded funny. Nasal. As if she’d been crying.

“Nothing. What do you want?”

“You were supposed to call me back. How did you make out with the social worker?”

“She believed me, but I hate lying.”

At least Alexis wasn’t crying anymore. “I’m coming over to your place. Let me in when I buzz.”

“Have you called…whoever it is you need to call?”

“No. No one.” He probably should, but he was going with his gut right now, following his instincts as he did a lot in the game. Independent judgment trumped prearranged plans more often than people would imagine.

But now all he said was, “We need to—to talk. To figure things out first.” Like figure out if he was happy about being a father or not.

“I guess we can’t meet at the Frog Pond or in the Gardens…?” Her voice was wishful and came slowly, as though she were thinking out loud.

“Sorry, not if we want privacy. Notice that I’m willing to meet on your turf.” It had taken time, but he’d become used to arranging his life partly for the public and partly for himself. With the DNA test behind him, he could afford to be generous and go to Alexis’s apartment.

“Of course,” she said. “No Frog Pond. You’re too well-known, and we definitely do want privacy. I’ll make some coffee or something.”

“Don’t bother, Alexis. It’s not exactly a social visit.”

He heard her gasp and immediately knew he’d said the wrong thing.

“Do you consider meeting your daughter a business transaction, Mr. Delito?”

“Of course not. And I said to call me Dan. Let’s back up a step. Maybe we do need a little time to digest everything, and I sure need time in the hot tub. How about one o’clock? I’ll come over then.”

She readily agreed, and he hung up. It wasn’t a very auspicious beginning, though. She sounded as if she’d been reprieved from a hanging.

H
E WAS BIGGER THAN SHE
remembered him, full of energy, full of power, and way too handsome with a lock of dark hair hanging over his forehead. If she’d met him at a party, she would have danced with him—as long as he wasn’t drinking.

“No limp today,” she said. “Hot tub must have worked. Have a seat.” Chatter, chatter, nervous chatter.

“Nice place you’ve got,” he said, scanning the apartment. “Spacious. They did a good job with the conversion. And they saved the brickwork.”

Funny how he immediately identified her favorite part of the house. The brick made the open space feel warm and cozy.

“It was the top selling point when I decided to buy the place,” she said.

“So, you own? Not rent?”

She nodded. “With a heavy mortgage, but it’s mine.”

“Ergo, no car.”

She waved his words away. “On the trains I’m only two stops away from the Common and the Gardens and just as close to my office. Why would I bother with a car?”

“To cart the baby around more easily?”

“Don’t underestimate the power of a devoted aunt,” she replied, meeting his gaze. Then she wished she hadn’t.

His eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed. His big hands now rested on his hips. A power stance.