Carol Voss - Instant Daddy

“He wants DNA samples from Jake and me,” Jessie explained.

Mrs. Chandler narrowed her eyes. “If you’re so sure you’re his father, why do you need a DNA test? For legal reasons?”

“DNA confirmation will clear up any questions.”

“Don’t let him have samples, Jess. Not without talking to a lawyer first.”

“I won’t. Did you drop Dad off at home?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Chandler exchanged a look with Jessie.

Unfortunately, Peter couldn’t read it.

“I parked the van right out front,” Mrs. Chandler said.

Jessie walked over and lifted Jake out of his play area as if she had a plan. “Let’s take your musical car with us, okay?”

“Yay.” Jake clapped his hands.

“Are you planning to talk to a lawyer?” Peter asked.

“Yes.”

“Great. I’ll follow you. It will save time so I can get on the road sooner.”

“Leave Jake with me.” Mrs. Chandler gave Peter a worried look, clearly wanting to keep him as far away from his son as she could.

“Mom, you and Lisa will have your hands full with the after-graduation crowd. Uncle Harold and Aunt Lou aren’t coming in until later to help with the supper rush.”

The diner sounded like a family affair. Jessie must have a whole army of relatives. After this run-in with her mother, he sure wasn’t eager to meet her extended family.

Jessie strode past Peter. “You can ride with us.”

He’d feel more in control if he drove. “We can take my car.”

“No. Jake’s car seat is in the van,” Jessie said.

Car seat? He’d heard women in the lab discussing which kind was safest. He’d have to do some research before he bought one for his own car. Whoa, aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself, Sheridan?

Mrs. Chandler handed a small package of foil-wrapped meat to Jessie. “Take this home with you.”

Home? Had Peter missed something? He needed to get things straight. “After we stop at the lawyer’s, you will bring me back to pick up my car before you go home, right?”

“We’re not stopping at the lawyer’s.” She gave him a sober look. “I’m taking you home to meet my dad.”

Was she kidding? Why would he want to meet her dad? “Some other time, maybe. It’s important I get the cheek swabs ASAP and start the drive back. I have work waiting for me at the lab.”

Jessie narrowed her eyes. “While you talk to my dad, I will call my lawyer.”

Peter saw flint in her beautiful, crystal-blue gaze. Clearly, she was giving him an ultimatum with no room for compromise. He reached to massage his stiff neck.

“While you’re home, Jess, put your feet up for a while,” her mother directed.

“I won’t have time, Mother,” Jessie answered tensely. “I’ll be back by five. Please call if you need me before then.” Frowning, she disappeared through the curtain dividing the room from the customer area.

Peter stared after her. Why couldn’t she call her lawyer from the diner? And why did she insist he talk to her father?

“You’d better catch her if you want a chance at that DNA sample, Dr. Sheridan,” her mother prodded.

Jessie climbed into the van out of the rain, started the motor and pulled away from the curb, back stiff, white-knuckle grip on the wheel. The windshield wipers clacking back and forth irritated her frayed nerves. But they didn’t hold a candle to the passenger beside her. At least his subtly spicy aftershave wasn’t as overpowering in the intimate space as the man himself was.

The idea of taking him home for a talk with Dad had come to her straight out of the blue. If anybody could make Dr. Sheridan think twice before he leapt into un-charted waters, Dad could. Hadn’t he saved her from making bad decisions more than once?

She’d much rather let Dr. Sheridan follow her in the nifty little sports car he’d pointed out to Jake when they got in the van. But insisting he ride with them was the only way to find out all she could about him and his support system. Because if she, indeed, did have to find a way to compromise as Will advised, she wanted to know just how much.

Looking every bit as uncomfortable as Jessie felt, Dr. Sheridan shifted to peer at Jake in his car seat in the back.

“Car,” Jake squealed.

Dr. Sheridan laughed awkwardly. “I hear it, loud and clear.”

Jessie glanced in the rearview mirror at Jake holding his musical car out to be admired, then turned her attention to her passenger. “I suppose your parents will be glad to hear they have a grandson.” Her voice sounded shrill when she’d only meant to raise it to allow him to hear her over the tinny tune of Jake’s car.

“I think they’ll be happy the Sheridan genes will survive another generation,” he said dryly.

She gave him a serious frown. “You don’t sound as if you know them very well.”

The drugstore bag crackled in his long fingers, his silence answering her.

She pulled to a stop at the intersection and returned waves from people walking home from graduation, umbrellas raised against the rain. She turned to Dr. Sheridan. “Why don’t you know your parents?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “They’re archeologists. They spend most of their time on digs in remote parts of the world.”

“Interesting.” And a relief. It didn’t sound like he’d get much help or support from them, did it? She accelerated.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him until he ran out of room.

She jerked her gaze back to the road in front of them.

“Any chance Jake’s car has a volume control?” he asked. “Those nonsensical rhymes just began a painful third rotation.”

Were the good doctor’s nerves a tad on the frazzled side, too? And unused to children’s toys? “I don’t want him to hear the tension in our voices.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“You would have if you knew anything about kids.”

His lips quirked. “No doubt.”

She drew in a momentary breath of victory. But it was too soon to gloat. She still didn’t know much about his situation or who he depended on for support. “Did you travel with your parents when you were young?”

“No.”

Her little fishing expedition would take forever if all she got from him were one-syllable answers. Drawing herself a little taller, she took a left and fired off another question. “Who did you stay with?”

“I lived in boarding schools,” he said matter-of-factly.

She looked at him sharply. Boarding schools? The poor man. “You grew up in boarding schools?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice.

He stared out the windshield. “The best boarding schools in the country.”

As if that made it easier for him to be away from his family? “Did your parents sometimes take you with them?”

He glanced her way. “Why the third degree?”

She recognized avoidance when she heard it. “Did they?”

He dragged in a breath and let it out. “There’s not much for a kid to do in the middle of the Sahara desert for months on end. And they wanted me educated by the best schools available to better prepare me to contribute to mankind.”

His parents sacrificed him to science? How could they do that? “You must have been lonely growing up with strangers.”

He shrugged as if loneliness was no big deal. “My studies were challenging. There was plenty to do. Swimming, tennis, golf, horses, you name it. I didn’t have time to be lonely.”

He expected her to believe that? “Did you go home often?”

He frowned at her.

“Did you?” She sat straighter. “Go home often?”

“When holidays didn’t conflict with digs.” His tone was flat, uninterested.

Jessie swallowed, unable to comprehend the lonely, disconnected childhood he must have lived. “What about when you were very little? Before boarding school?”