Summer Kisses (2 page)

“She’s just like her aunts,” Derrick said. “She’s a crybaby.”

Mom laughed and then reached out toward the baby before she realized her hands were full. “Here,” she said, handing Derrick a stack of mail as she passed by.

“What’s this?”

“Every time you move, your mail slowly trickles back here.”

Derrick shuffled through the pile of mail.

“There’s a letter from CryoCorp that came in the mail months ago,” Mom said. “I thought they had the wrong address, so I wrote ‘return to sender’ and put the envelope back in the mailbox, but the letter came back the other day.”

“What is CryoCorp?” Maggie asked.

Derrick found the envelope, put the rest of the mail to the side, and opened the letter. He was too busy reading to answer Maggie’s question.

Dear Mr. Baylor,

As you know, CryoCorp is a leading provider of human semen
…

Yeah, he knew that, but that didn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat.

Our staff is made up of professionals eager to help our clients achieve realistic family goals through an excellent semen selection and confidential, personal counseling
.

I know. I know
. He skimmed to the last paragraph as he wondered why CryoCorp would contact him after all these years. His semen couldn’t possibly still be usable, could it? Besides, years ago he had sent a letter asking to be removed as a donor. Going to CryoCorp was a stupid move on his part, something he’d done for the money before thinking things through.

Here at CryoCorp we strive to enable recipients to attain their goals. Therefore, we would like to thank you for your donation and for helping to make dreams come true.

Making dreams come true
? His heart rate kicked up another notch as he read back over part of the text.

The recipient of your sperm has met all required standards
.

“This is ridiculous,” he said aloud. “Years ago I sent CryoCorp a letter telling them to remove me from their donor list. I even sent their money back.”

His mother was too busy with the baby to notice the panic in his voice, but Maggie didn’t miss a beat. She was at his side before he could curse under his breath again. She took the letter from him and when she finished reading it, she pinned him with a look he couldn’t decipher. “You donated your sperm?”

He nodded, but he didn’t appreciate the accusing look in her eyes: as if he’d given something away that didn’t belong to him. “Do you have a problem with that?”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Of course not,” she said. “But obviously
you
do. Did you donate your sperm to CryoCorp, or not?”

“Maybe.”

She huffed, sending wisps of blonde hair flying about.

“Mom,” she said over her shoulder. “Would you help me get a straight answer out of him?”

Derrick frowned. “Since when do you call my mom, Mom?”

“Since forever,” she said, clearly angry with him now.

Their gazes locked and some sort of weird staring war ensued until he purposely let his gaze fall downward, past her small upturned nose and onward to her perfectly formed lips. He’d kissed those lips before. Long before any stupid vows were made, he had kissed her. But it was their last shared kiss he remembered now. He’d never forget that kiss for as long as he lived.

His mother, baby in hand, must have picked up on the tension in the room because suddenly she stepped between them. “Don’t do this, Derrick.”

He raised a hand in frustration. “What did I do this time?”

“You’re creating drama again,” his younger brother, Jake, said from the doorway.

Derrick looked over at the door and glared at Jake. “Who asked you?”

“I’ve been standing here long enough to see that you’re up to your old tricks. Maggie belongs to Aaron, your friend and mine…our brother. Remember him? They’re engaged and this is an engagement party. Maggie picked Aaron, not you. Get over it.”

“Stop it,” Maggie said. She held up the letter from CryoCorp. “Derrick has a problem.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Jake added in a lazy drawl.

“Now, Jake. That’s enough,” Mom said, prompting Derrick to smirk at his brother. A childish reaction he’d admit, but one he chose to blame on the fact that he was back home with all of his siblings, not to mention Maggie and Aaron, all under the same roof, everybody pretending to be perfectly fine with the way things turned out. He never should have come.

“What does the letter say?” Mom asked.

Maggie looked at Derrick. “Mind if I read this aloud?”

“Be my guest.” Growing up with a big family in a small house meant there was no such thing as privacy. No reason to try and keep secrets when he knew full well they’d all find out what was going on sooner or later.

“It appears,” Maggie said, “that years ago Derrick donated sperm. Apparently that sperm has been chosen by recipient 3516A.”

Jake snorted. “No kidding. How long does sperm last?”

“There’s no expiration on frozen sperm,” Maggie said as she skimmed the contents of the letter for a second time.

Derrick’s jaw dropped.

Jake laughed.

“I went to CryoCorp before I was drafted by the Los Angeles Condors,” Derrick explained. “I was in desperate need of cash. I also sold my blood back then.”

“Why didn’t you come to us for help?” Mom asked.

“You and Dad had financial problems of your own at the time and don’t forget you always had a zillion kids running around here.”

“What made you change your mind about CryoCorp?” Maggie asked.

Derrick remembered perfectly well his reasons for changing his mind, but didn’t feel the need to tell everyone that he thought about his future a lot. The thought of having biological children out there who didn’t know him hadn’t felt right. He had come to the conclusion that if he ever had children of his own, he wanted to be a part of their lives. Nothing against families who needed donors; without sperm donors, many couples would never realize their dream of having a family. For Derrick, though, it just wasn’t something he was ready to do. “I changed my mind,” he finally said, “that’s all.”

“Do you have a copy of the letter you sent CryoCorp asking to be removed from their donor program?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t know.” Derrick thought of all the boxes piled in his garage at his home in Malibu an hour away. The chances of finding a copy of the letter were one in a million. The computer he’d originally used was long gone.

“If you have proof that you sent the letter,” Maggie went on, “we have options.”

“
We
do?”

She nodded.

Derrick had only seen Maggie on a few occasions since she left for college. He’d heard through the grapevine that she’d decided to go to law school, but he hadn’t been able to imagine it. Maggie used to be a goofball, the kind of girl who climbed trees and rolled in the mud. She didn’t have a serious bone in her body. But watching her now—back straight, eyes unblinking, serious voice—she had
lawyer
written all over her.

“I’ll call CryoCorp first thing in the morning,” Maggie said. “I’ll tell them we have a copy of the letter you sent and that we insist they cease and desist from any further use of your sperm.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “The only problem,” she added, “will be if 3516A has already become impregnated.”

Jake chuckled and before Derrick could usher him out of the room and really give his brother something to laugh about, Aaron and three more of Derrick’s siblings squeezed into the bedroom to see what all the excitement was about.

Aaron came through the door first. His hand slid around Maggie’s waist in a protective gesture as he turned to Derrick. “What’s going on?”

“Looks like we might have another baby to add to the chaos,” Jake said.

Derrick’s dad, Phil, was the last one to push his way through the door. “Who’s having a baby?”

Phil looked Maggie up and down, prompting Maggie to raise her hands in surrender. “It’s not me,” she said as she handed him the letter. “It’s Derrick.”

They all hovered around Phil as he read the letter aloud. After he finished, it was blessedly quiet for a minute.

And then the teasing began in earnest. And the baby began to cry. And a fierce pain shot up from Derrick’s knee, making him realize that if he didn’t get out of here soon, he was going to suffocate.

Three Months Later

Across the street from Chandler Park in downtown Burbank, Derrick sat in his BMW and watched for any sign of a pregnant woman. He opened the window. A cool end-of-May breeze carried in the scent of newly cut grass.

With the help of a private investigator, he’d finally dug up information on 3516A, also known as Jill Garrison. He didn’t have a picture of the woman, but he knew Jill Garrison was five foot four, with brown hair and green eyes, and weighed in at 120 pounds.

CryoCorp had told Maggie that they had no record of the letter Derrick had sent asking to be removed as a donor and therefore, CryoCorp refused to dole out any information regarding their client, 3516A. If it hadn’t been for the investigator he hired, Derrick wouldn’t be here now watching three women run after too many children to count.

After arriving at Jill Garrison’s apartment this morning, it only took a few minutes to learn from a neighbor that she was at Chandler Park helping a friend with a birthday party.

Maggie had advised Derrick to stay away from the woman. There were legalities to sort out, she’d said, but Derrick didn’t listen. He still didn’t know whether or not 3516A, aka Jill Garrison, had become impregnated, and he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he knew the truth.

Derrick kept his gaze on the closest woman. She was blowing bubbles and making the kids laugh. They all ran after her, trying to catch the bubbles in their hands. Tall and slender, wearing a red jumpsuit, her long red hair glistened in the sun. The woman in red was not only too tall to be Jill, she was not a brunette and she wasn’t pregnant.

A few feet away from the bubble blower, another woman entertained the kids by playing red light, green light.

Derrick lifted his Ray-Bans for a better look: brown-hair with lots of untamed curls and long legs—much too tall to be Jill Garrison.

The third and last woman was the lady in blue: blue T-shirt, blue tennis shoes, and a blue floppy hat that covered her face and hair. She was reading a book to a couple of younger children and it was impossible to tell the color of her hair or how tall she was until one of the kids began crying, forcing the lady in blue into action.

He squinted into the sun. The lady in blue had black hair—no, make that brown. She wore a pair of white short shorts. He guessed her height to be five-foot-four.

Bingo.

She was petite and definitely
not
pregnant.

Tension left his shoulders and neck. He could breathe again. Life was good.

Children’s laughter lifted his spirits as he laid his head back on the headrest, slid on his sunglasses, and shut his eyes. Just the idea of becoming a father made him feel claustrophobic, not because he didn’t want a child but because he wasn’t ready. Guys needed to be prepared for this sort of thing. Besides, he preferred to have a child the traditional way—after he married the mother of his child. He chuckled to himself at the realization that he’d resorted to spying.

What the hell was he thinking
? What would he have done if he’d run into a pregnant Jill Garrison. Ha! Maggie was right. He never should have come.

A couple of
rap tap taps
on the passenger window got his attention. He sat up. A glimpse into the rearview mirror revealed a police car parked behind him. An officer leaned low and tapped on his passenger window again.

Derrick pushed the button on the side of his door and the window slid downward. “How can I help you, officer?”

“Please step out of the vehicle, sir.”

Confused, Derrick did as the officer asked. He then stepped around the front of the car and onto the sidewalk. Two women stood behind the officer. It was the bubble blower and another woman he hadn’t noticed before. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and her back was to him. The two women huddled together and whispered so he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Derrick slid off his Ray-Bans, hooked them on the front of his shirt, and waited for the officer to finish scribbling on his notepad.

This time when the officer looked at him, his jaw dropped. The officer pointed his pencil at him. “You’re Derrick Baylor, quarterback for the Los Angeles Condors.”

“That’s right.” Derrick offered his hand. “What can I do for you?”

“Officer Matt Coyle,” the officer said as he pumped Derrick’s hand. “I’d appreciate it if I could get your autograph. My sons are big fans.”

“Not a problem.”

“Officer, please!” the redhead interrupted.

Give the lady in red a devil’s fork, Derrick thought, and the picture would be complete.

Officer Coyle cleared his throat. “These ladies,” he said gesturing toward the women, “noticed you’ve been parked here for quite some time. Frankly, they were concerned about the children’s safety.”

The bubble blower turned toward Derrick, plunked both hands on her hips and looked him square in the eye, clearly
not
impressed by his celebrity status. The other woman merely threw a worried glance over her shoulder, which told him she was the guilty party, the one who had called the cops.

Derrick stepped past the officer and toward the ladies. “I’m sorry. I should have made my introductions sooner.”

The redhead narrowed her eyes. If looks could kill, Derrick would have fell over and died right there on the sidewalk.

“I came here looking for Jill Garrison,” Derrick said.

The brown-haired woman turned about, her eyes wide. “I’m Jill,” she said.

She stood at about five foot four. Brown hair. Green eyes. “Holy shit.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Pardon me?”

“Holy shit,” he said again, slower this time as his gaze fixated on her enlarged belly.

Bubble Blower grabbed her friend’s arm as if pulling her out of harm’s way. “Officer,” she said. “Mind giving us a little help here?”