The Baby Battle Read online

  Pulling his powerful vehicle into the drive took all of ten seconds. Summoning the nerve to tell a woman he would now be sharing the infant she considered to be hers might prove more difficult. But make no mistake—it would be done.

  “WHO DO YOU KNOW who drives a monster SUV?” Gabby asked, returning to the patio after refilling the sangria pitcher.

  “No one,” Olivia said.

  “Me, neither.” Steph dragged a chip through the salsa.

  Olivia looked up. “What’s the relevance of the question?”

  “Just curious. Whoever he was, Leona had him stopped for questioning.” Gabby topped off everyone’s glasses.

  Laughing, Olivia said, “Lucky him. Leona takes her neighborhood patrol presidency very seriously. The other night she had me laughing so hard that—”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Probably her.” Olivia pushed her chair back and stood. “This should be good. While she’s here, I’ll get her to tell you what she did to the teens intent on TP’ing Allyson Walker’s house.”

  “Wasn’t she Valley View High’s homecoming queen this year?”

  “Yep,” Olivia called over her shoulder on the way to the door. “Leona was queen when she was in school, meaning she doesn’t take lightly to anyone messing with royalty.”

  “Hey, girl,” Olivia said, tugging open her heavy front door. “I was just telling the gang about—Oh. Can I help you?” Monster SUV Guy stood on her front porch. He’d taken the liberty of parking his massive vehicle at the foot of her stairs. With broad shoulders and a height towering over her, the dark-suited, dark-haired man matched his car. Larger than life.

  “Tag O’Malley,” he said, extending his right hand. “My apologies for interrupting this beautiful afternoon, but you and I need to talk.”

  “Why?” Olivia asked, still not fully opening the door, and certainly not about to shake the stranger’s hand. “Because if you’re selling something, I’m not interested.”

  He laughed. “Promise, I’m not about to haul out some vacuum cleaners or magazine subscriptions. This matter is a little more…” Expression pinched, he seemed to have a tough time finding just the right word. “Well, let’s just say…delicate.” Withdrawing a packet of documents from his suit coat’s chest pocket, he handed them to her. “I just discovered that you and I share something very precious, and thought this a matter best handled face-to-face.”

  Olivia made quick work of scanning the documents, sheer will the only thing keeping her from blacking out. Obviously the man was deranged.

  “You should’ve received similar documents from the lab. They said they’ll be setting up a meeting.” Still wearing expensive-looking sunglasses that shaded his eyes, he nodded toward the papers in her trembling hands.

  “I haven’t received papers or a call,” she snapped.

  “Have you checked your mail? Mine were courier-delivered, but since you already know you have a son, they might not have been as expedient in your notification.”

  Ignoring him, Olivia looked over the papers once more. The more she read, the more her stomach roiled. Above anything else, she’d wanted to be a mother. So much so, she’d resorted to artificial insemination. Her doctor had assured her that the lab they’d used was reliable, discreet and all donors had signed consent forms agreeing to play no part in the lives of any future children born of their seed. Olivia had spent hours reading donor profiles. Though no names were given, there were photos, IQ test results, thorough family history of health issues. Donor A-178954 had been the ideal father for her child. A PhD, he taught history at a small private college. His hobbies were sailing and horseback riding. He’d chosen to donate in honor of his deceased sister, who had never been able to conceive. In short, her baby’s father was perfect. One hundred percent not the man standing on her porch.

  “Allow me,” the man said, jogging toward her mailbox at the end of her drive.

  “Liv?” Gabby called from the patio. A warm breeze carried her voice through the screen door. “Everything all right?”

  “S-sure,” she replied. “Be back in a sec!” Just as soon as this lunatic climbed back into his house on wheels and got out of her life.

  He was back, hand outstretched with a pile of mail. Water bill. Cable. Phone. Land’s End catalog…

  The next envelope had the return address of H & R Laboratory. The very sight caused Olivia’s heart to skip. Trembling made opening the envelope no easy task, but once the deed was done, she saw that her initial paperwork was pretty much a mirror image of the man’s standing before her. The lab manager was sorry. Blah, blah, blah. Bottom line, they claimed that instead of A-178954 being her baby’s father, this Tag O’Malley character was. The fine print in the consent forms she’d signed released the lab of all responsibility should just such an incident arise.

  Translation—as long as Olivia had gotten a baby, the lab didn’t care where he or she had come from. Mr. O’Malley, on the other hand, would have signed very different forms. He certainly wouldn’t have given away his parental rights the way her intended donor had. Meaning, if she didn’t pull some legal strings—fast—she could possibly lose the precious baby she’d fought so hard to bring into her life.

  “Again, sorry to just dump all of this on you. I thought by now you would’ve heard about our predicament.” Slipping off his sunglasses to peer around her toward her home’s shadowy interior, he asked, “Is there any way I might come in for a spell? More than anything, I’d like to see the baby.”

  Hot and dizzy and seriously on the verge of being sick, Olivia managed, “Um, sure.” She stepped back, allowing him entry, and closed the door behind him.

  “Thank you,” he said, tone softer than it had previously been. He tucked his glasses into the same suit pocket where his paperwork had been stashed. “I know this must come as a shock, but I’m sure we can make this work.”

  “Of course.” Her every instinct screamed to shut him out, but she also realized that, legally, he had rights she couldn’t ignore. To do so would make her seem unreasonable, irrational and uncooperative. Judges hated every one of those traits. During countless trials she’d coached clients to at all times keep their cool.

  “Liv!” Steph shouted from the patio. “Hurry! The babies are playing. Grab your camera!”

  Tag O’Malley asked, “Is our son out there?”

  Upon hearing the man refer to her baby as “our son,” always unflappable, always in control Olivia crumpled to the floor.

  Chapter Two

  “What did you do to her?” Tag glanced up from where he knelt on the floor to see a petite brunette charging at him like a ticked-off momma grizzly.

  “I’m calling 9–1-1,” said a corkscrew-curly blonde, who was right on the brunette’s heels.

  “Whoa,” Tag said, giving Olivia Marshall’s shoulder a gentle nudge. “Whatever happened to this little lady she managed all on her own. I was just standing here when she collapsed.”

  “Likely story,” the brunette said, arms tightly folded.

  “W-what happened?” The mother of Tag’s son stirred, her moss-green eyes darting around the room.

  “That’s what we’d like to know,” said the woman with the phone. She’d put it on speaker. Every ring annoyed Tag more.

  “This is 9–1-1. Please state your emergency.”

  “There’s a man in my friend’s house.” She hastily gave the address. “We think he hit our friend and—”

  “Stop.” Hand on her forehead, Olivia Marshall eased upright. Tag helped her to a sitting position. Sure, he hadn’t been directly to blame for her fall, but the news he’d delivered hadn’t helped. “There’s no need to involve police.”

  “But he hurt you,” the brunette pointed out.

  “Ma’am,” the tinny-voiced operator asked, “is everything all right? Would you like me to send an officer to your location?”

  “No,” Olivia said, hopefully loud enough for the dispatcher to hear. “Everything’s fine.”

 
; “Just in case,” the woman said, “I’m sending a patrol. Routine procedure following a distress call.”

  “Ladies…” Holding up his hands in the universal sign for surrender, Tag said, “Seriously, the last thing I wanted to do was upset anyone. I mean, I see why Ms. Marshall would understandably be upset, but I never dreamed she would faint.” Shaking his head, Tag couldn’t believe how what he’d prayed would be an unforgettable first meeting with his son had turned into a nightmare. Oh, for sure he wasn’t likely to soon forget the scene, but for far different reasons than he’d expected. Even worse, he had yet to see his boy. Did the tiny fella look like him? Hopefully without the crooked nose Tag had inherited from Uncle Frank. “This isn’t going at all how I’d expected. I’d just like to hold our son.”

  Olivia snorted. “Like you honestly thought you’d waltz into my home, demand that I hand over my baby and I wouldn’t have a problem with it?”

  “What?” the other women asked in unison.

  “Whoa,” he protested with his hands still held up. “For the record, I haven’t demanded anything. I’m just trying to—”

  “Not to leave you out of the loop,” Olivia said to her friends, “but what’s going on is a long story.” When she struggled to stand, Tag gave her a hand up. Tension knotted her clenched arm muscles. Though it’d been a while since he’d touched a woman other than family, he could see this one’s energy plainly read Back off. Once she was safely on her feet, he complied. “Sorry to cut the afternoon short, but it’d probably be best if you two left.”

  “Olivia…” The blonde took her hand. “Please tell us what he’s done. We can help.”

  “No,” Olivia said, pulling her friends into a huddle. While the ladies shared an impromptu whispered conference, during which he was the recipient of half a dozen cold stares, Tag inched past the elegant, marble-floored entry hall. On his left was a formal dining room featuring a crystal chandelier and table large enough to seat eight. On his right was a dark-paneled den. A marble fireplace was flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Nestled into a windowed alcove was an ornately carved desk holding dual, flat-screen computer monitors. The hard drive must have fit into an out-of-sight panel. Behind the desk was a feminine red leather executive chair. A fig tree and ferns, along with silver-framed photos and china figurines, lessened the room’s severity, but did little to disguise the fact that Olivia Marshall was a female version of himself. Not a good thing, considering he was apparently gearing up for the battle of his life.

  He’d just made it into a vaulted-ceiling living area when the angry momma grizzly shouted, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Just checking out the place. Nice.” He forced what he hoped came across as a charming smile.

  From the patio came a baby’s cry.

  “That’s Jack,” the brunette said, already heading toward a screen door. Knowing his son, too, must be out there, Tag’s pulse raced. Not caring whether or not he’d been invited deeper into the sanctity of Olivia’s home, Tag beat the brunette to the door. Four infants lounged on a blanket in the sun, one now wailing. Jack? Meaning the only other infant dressed in boy clothes would be…

  Longing crushed Tag’s chest. He had to keep himself together. Not show his cards too early as to how desperately he wanted—needed—at least partial custody of his son.

  On autopilot, Tag aimed for his child.

  “Don’t touch my baby!” Olivia charged up behind Tag, nudging him aside before he could scoop the infant into his arms. When she held the boy, tucking his downy head beneath her chin, she said, “I know my rights, and no matter what the lab says, I intend to have full DNA testing before entering into any negotiation with you.”

  With everything in him, Tag held firm to his control. His son had his Irish grandmother’s red hair. Sure, Olivia was a redhead, but it was a different shade. Darker, not nearly as coppery. Most infants were born with blue eyes, but Tag’s son’s eyes were brown, like his.

  “Please…” he managed, holding out his arms toward his child.

  Olivia tightened her hold. “Your claim is preposterous. Mistakes like this don’t happen. They just don’t.”

  Tag cupped his hand to the infant’s head, stroking hair as soft as a dandelion gone to seed. His throat was too tight for words. Bring it on, woman. I don’t need some damned DNA test to tell me this baby is mine.

  “I sympathize with you,” she said, her friends watching. “Really I do, but—” Approaching sirens had her looking at the door they’d just come through. “Leave peacefully, and with both of our attorneys present, we’ll make testing arrangements.”

  The siren’s wail grew louder, and then was accompanied by the roar of a vehicle climbing the slight hill to Olivia’s home.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked. He was angry, hurt, confused. Yes, he understood that she was the child’s mother, and as such, already had a bond. But what didn’t she get about the fact that as the infant’s father, he, too, had rights? Rights he fully intended to enforce. “This doesn’t have to be handled in an adversarial manner.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I-I’ll get it,” the brunette said.

  “Me, too.” The blonde followed.

  A brittle laugh escaped Olivia’s bow-shaped mouth. “Try reversing our roles. Try carrying a child for nine brutal months, only to nearly lose him at the last second. Try memorizing his every noise and expression and sigh for four months. Nourishing him at your breasts. You try all of that, and maybe you’ll come close to understanding how ridiculous you sound, standing there demanding to hold my baby boy.”

  “Everything all right?” a uniformed police officer asked.

  “Could you please escort this man off my property?” Olivia asked, never breaking her lock with his eyes. “I deem him a threat to my child.”

  “How so, ma’am? What harm has he done, and are you prepared to press charges?”

  “This is crazy,” Tag said, conking the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Look, sir, with all due respect, this entire situation could’ve been avoided had the lady just cooperated. If you’ll let me, there are some documents on the entry-hall table that will put all of this into perspective.” Tag started that way, but the officer pulled his gun.

  “Stay right where you are,” he ordered. “You,” he said, nodding toward the blonde. “See if you can find the papers he’s talking about.”

  She hurried off.

  “Please,” Tag said, “all I want to do is hold our son. Is that really so much to ask?”

  “Yes,” Olivia said. Her single cold word hit him like an ice cube right between his eyes.

  “Here you go, sir.” The blonde handed over Tag’s proof.

  After holstering his weapon, the policeman scanned the papers, pausing every so often to look at Olivia, then Tag. Finally he let out a low whistle, folded the papers and handed them to Tag. “Looks like you two have one dilly of a mess.”

  “No kidding,” Tag said, relieved that finally someone had recognized he was the victim. “So would you kindly tell her she has to at least let me hold our son?”

  In response, all three women talked at once, forcing the officer to whistle to make them hush.

  “Sir,” he said to Tag, “I feel for you. Wholeheartedly. I’m a daddy to five little girls, and don’t know what I’d do without them, but this is one of those cases where possession is nine-tenths of the law. Without a court order I can’t let you take this boy from his mother—even for a quick hug.”

  Olivia lifted her chin higher, holding on to the baby for all she was worth. “Officer, I already explained that his continued presence makes me uncomfortable. However, I will be happy to speak with him through my attorney.”

  “This is B.S.,” Tag said, tired of playing nice.

  “Language,” the officer scolded. “Leave peaceably with me, and I’ll get you names of good attorneys.”

  “I’ve already got one,” Tag said, shooting Olivia a dark look. “A very g
ood one.”

  “Suit yourself.” The policeman gestured for Tag to lead the way out the front door. “After you…”

  “WOW,” STEPHANIE BLURTED once the roar of Tag O’Malley’s car had receded. “That was intense.”

  Olivia, still holding Flynn for dear life, collapsed onto the nearest chair. Though the three of them were right back where they’d started around her patio table, she felt as if a year had passed. “Why is this happening?”

  “Next week we’ll be laughing about this,” Gabby assured her, holding Jack tighter.

  “All of the documents look legit,” Olivia said, staring straight ahead, wishing she’d never even heard of Tag O’Malley. “I’ll need to spend all weekend researching case law. Clearly, we’re both victims of the lab’s screwup, but legally I don’t have a clue where Flynn and I stand. At the very least, we’re talking negligence and medical malpractice charges needing to be filed. That’s in conjunction with custody issues. I’ll need to research whether something like this has even happened before.” Kissing the crown of Flynn’s head, she added, “I vaguely remember a woman in New York suing because her deceased husband was white, and her child conceived by artificial insemination turned out to be black. But I don’t recall whether or not the donor father was even factored into the case.”

  Cupping her hand around Olivia’s forearm, Gabby asked, “Want us to leave so that you can get to work?”

  Olivia nodded. “Would you all mind? I really do have a lot to do.”

  Stephanie was already gathering the twins’ things. “Call me. I love you. We’ll get through this together.”

  Nodding, fighting tears, Olivia mouthed her thanks, but no sound came out.