Free Peekaboo Baby by Delores Fossen Page A

down and scooped the baby into her arms. She murmured something to him, words with a soft, rhythmic cadence that seemed to soothe Patrick. Ryan tried to latch on to some of those soothing effects, because heaven help him, he needed something to settle him down.
    â€œKeep me informed,” Ryan told Quentin. He clicked off the phone in the middle of Quentin’s goodbye and slipped it back into his pocket.
    Delaney’s maternal murmurings didn’t soothe the baby for long. He started to fuss and crammed his fist into his mouth. She looked over her shoulder at him, as if she’d known all along he was watching her.
    â€œHe’s hungry. And impatient. Sorry, but he gets priority over our conversation. Baby formula upsets his stomach, and I didn’t use the breast pump today, so I can’t give him a bottle.”
    That meant she had to nurse him. Ryan turned back toward the living room, but not before he saw her sit in the rocking chair next to the crib. She lifted her top.
    Damn.
    He felt like the worst kind of pervert, but it took every ounce of his willpower to force himself to look away. After all, Delaney was breastfeeding a baby who might theoretically be his son.
    Ryan listened, hearing the soft, gentle sounds of the baby nursing. Delaney’s equally soft, gentle murmurings blended in to form a chorus he simply couldn’t ignore.
    â€œIf I agree to the DNA test,” she said, then paused a long time. “I’ll have it done myself. I’d want the results to come to me.”
    Ryan waited for her to add more. But that was apparently it. No actual promise to do the test or even to share the information with him.
    Not exactly the compromise he’d been hoping for.
    Nor was it an acceptable one.
    He glanced in the nursery again, to try to make eye contact with her so she’d know that he wasn’t pleased. Delaney had a small blanket discreetly covering her breasts and most of Patrick’s head. Ryan could see the child grabbing his toes.
    There was only the possibility that this child was a product of a cloned embryo. A small possibility. Besides, he couldn’t even consider it until he’d gotten past the first step. And the first step was to convince Delaney to do the DNA test.
    â€œYou might as well come in,” she offered. “Seems a little late for modesty, doesn’t it?”
    It was a little late for a lot of things.
    The doors of his heart seemed to be opening, and Ryan had no idea why they were doing that.
    Or if he could even close them again.
    He took a few steps closer, but he didn’t actually enter the room. He stayed in the doorway. It was best to keep some physical distance between them, since he wasn’t doing well in the emotional-distance department.
    â€œYou look shell-shocked. Did you get bad news with that phone call?” she asked.
    â€œNot really.” And since that was a lie, Ryan regrouped. “I did get some news. The New Hope clinic was located in the hospital where my son died.” Thankfully, he’d managed to lay that out there without too much emotion in his voice.
    Delaney made a sound of contemplation. Paused.And made another sound. A decidedly uneasy one. “It doesn’t prove anything.”
    However, Ryan barely heard the words he’d already anticipated, because, at that exact moment, the baby shoved the blanket from his face. Delaney quickly covered her breast, sliding her stretchy top back in place.
    Patrick turned his head in Ryan’s direction, and just like that, their eyes connected.
    His hair was blond. Light-colored wavy hair that haloed around his head. There was a tiny creamy white milk bubble at the corner of his mouth. He kicked his chubby legs and grinned. Just grinned. Showing his dimples. That grin made it all the way to his blue eyes.
    Ryan’s breath froze in his lungs.
    Everything froze.
    He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. But he could feel. God, he could