Discovered: Daddy
Nick Russo’s Tips On How To Discover If You Are About To Become A Daddy:
Letter to Reader
Title Page
Books by Marilyn Pappano
About the Author
Meet The Soon-To-Be Moms of New Hope, Texas!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Copyright
Nick Russo’s Tips On How To Discover If You Are AboutTo Become A Daddy:
1. Does the entire town stare at you and inquire as to your whereabouts precisely nine months ago?
2. When you think back to your last visit through town, do you recall waking up in a strange bed?
3. Have you caused any pregnant women to suddenly faint at the mere sight of you?
4. And does a certain beautiful, single mom-to-be ignite flashes of remembered desire?
Dear Reader,
Our lead title this month hardly needs an introduction, nor does the author. Nora Roberts is a multiple New York Times bestseller, and Megan’s Mate follows her extremely popular cross-line miniseries THE CALHOUN WOMEN.
Megan O’Riley isn’t a Calhoun by birth, but they consider her and her young son family just the same. And who better to teach her how to love again than longtime family friend Nate Fury?
Our newest cross-line miniseries is DADDY KNOWS LAST, and this month it reaches its irresistible climax right here in Intimate Moments. In Discoverer: Daddy, bestselling author Marilyn Pappano finally lets everyone know who’s the father of Faith Harper’s baby. Everyone, that is, except dad-to-be Nick Russo. Seems there’s something Nick doesn’t remember about that night nine months ago!
The rest of the month is terrific, too, with new books by Marion Smith Collins, Elane Osborn, Vella Munn and Margaret Watson. You’ll want to read them all, then come back next month for more of the best books in the business—right here at Silhouette Intimate Moments. Enjoy!
Leslie Wainger Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator
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Please address questions and book requests to: Silhouette Reader Service U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo. NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609. Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
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MARILYN PAPPANO
Discovered: Daddy
Books by Marilyn Pappano
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Within Reach #182
The Lights of Home #214
Guilt by Association #233
Cody Daniels’ Return #258
Room at the Inn #268
Something of Heaven #294
Somebody’s Baby #310
Not Without Honor #338
Safe Haven #363
A Dangerous Man #381
Probable Cause #405
Operation Homefront #424
Somebody’s Lady #437
No Retreat #469
Memories of Laura #486
Sweet Annie’s Pass #512
Finally a Father #542
*Michael’s Gift #583
*Regarding Remy #609
*A Man Like Smith #626
Survive the Night #703
†Discovered: Daddy #746
Silhouette Books
Silhouette Christmas Stories 1989
“The Greatest Gift”
Silhouette Summer Sizzlers 1991
“Loving Abby”
*Southern Knights
†Daddy Knows Last
MARILYN PAPPANO has been writing as long as she can remember, just for the fun of it, but a few years ago she decided to take her lifelong hobby seriously. She was encouraging a friend to write a romance novel and ended up writing one herself. It was accepted, and she plans to continue as an author for a long time. When she’s not involved in writing, she enjoys camping, quilting, sewing and, most of all, reading. Not surprisingly, her favorite books are romance novels.
Her husband is in the navy, and in the course of her marriage she has lived all over the U.S. Currently she lives in Oklahoma with her husband and son.
Meet The Soon-To-Be Moms of New Hope, Texas!
“I’ll do anything to have a baby — even if it means
going to the sperm bank. Unless sexy cowboy
Jake Spencer is willing to be a daddy...
the natural way.”
—Priscilla Barrington, hopeful mom-to-be.
THE BABY NOTION
by Dixie Browsing (Desire 7/96)
“I’m more than willing to help Mitch McCord take care
of the baby he found on his doorstep. After all, I’ve been
in love with that confirmed bachelor for years.”
—Jenny Stevens, maternal girl-next-door.
BABY IN A BASKET
by Helen R. Myers (Romance 8/96)
“My soon-to-be ex-husband and I are soon-to-be
parents! Can our new arrivals also bless us with a
second chance at marriage?”
—Valerie Kincaid, married new mom.
MARRIED...WITH TWINS!
by Jennifer Mikels (Special Edition 9/96)
“I have vowed to be married by the time I turn thirty.
But the only man who interests me is single dad
Travis Donovan—and he doesn’t know I’m alive...yet!”
—Wendy Wilcox,
biological—clock—counting bachelorette.
HOW TO HOOK A HUSBAND (AND A BABY)
by Carolyn Zane (Yours Truly 10/96)
“Everybody wants me to name the father of my baby.
But I can’t tell anyone—even the expectant daddy!”
—Faith Harper, prim, proper—and very pregnant.
DISCOVERED: DADDY
by Marilyn Pappano (Intimate Moments 11/96)
Chapter 1
Though her feet were sore, her ankles swollen as usual at the end of the day, Faith Harper ignored the chair behind the counter and paced restlessly around the shop. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and the store was quiet. She had sent Beth Reynolds, her part-time help, home early to help her mother with preparations for tomorrow’s dinner, and she had promised the girl that she would close up and go home early herself. After all, it promised to be a busy evening for most people in New Hope, especially those with families. It wasn’t likely that anyone would suddenly remember an urgent need requiring a last-minute preholiday visit to the Baby Boutique.
But it was five-fifteen, only fifteen minutes before her regular closing time, and Faith was still there. She hadn’t had a customer in more than an hour. She’d done the usual closing up chores — returned misplaced merchandise to its proper location, run the sweeper, balanced the cash drawer and prepared the bank deposit. All she had to do was flip the sign on the door from Open to Closed, shut off all but the softly tinted lights that shone on the displays filling both front windows, lock up and leave. Still she waited. She thought, believed — hoped — he would come. She was sure of it — if not to the shop, then this evening to her house. But just in case he chose the shop, she had to stay until closing time. She had to give him every minute of opportunity.
He. Him. Nick Russo.
She had been with her good friend Wendy when he’d walked into the shop more than four hours ago. Wendy had stopped by to compare notes on gifts for Michelle Parker’s wedding this weekend to Michael Russo when the bell over the door had rung. “I’ll be right with you,” Faith had called out without even looking, and an achingly familiar male voice had responded. “No hurry. I just need directions to the formal wear place...”
He had said more, but Faith h
adn’t heard it. Those few words had been enough to stir long-ago memories, enough to make her whirl around — whirl, she thought with a grim smile, in the condition she was in — and face for the first time in months the man who had spoken them. Nearly nine months, to be exact. She’d gotten only a glimpse of him, only enough to see that memory hadn’t embellished fact, that he was as handsome as she’d thought, as dark and tough and sexy as she’d remembered.
And then she had fainted.
Even now, four hours later, her face burned at the memory. Fainting was such a weak thing to do. She’d never done it before, not once in her life.
But she’d never come face-to-face with Nick Russo after he’d removed himself so thoroughly from her life. She’d never been nearly nine months pregnant and seeing the baby’s father again for the first time since they’d done the deed. She’d never felt so vulnerable, so lost, so utterly unwanted — and, after a lifetime of living with Great-aunt Lydia, that was saying something.
By the time she’d come to again, he had been gone. She was lying on the couch in her office — where he, according to Wendy, had carried her before he’d taken off again without waiting for those directions he had asked about. He seemed to be very, very good at making quick exits.
But he would be back. She was sure of it.
Stopping in front of a rack of infant dresses, she picked up a hanger and admired the dress it held. It was hunter green velvet, with a pristine white collar edged with eyelet lace, a white satin sash and a narrow ruffle of eyelet lace peeking out from beneath the hem. It was beautiful, expensive and totally impractical. She had bought one for Amelia Rose for her first Christmas service and her first baby portrait. Once those big events were past, she intended to wrap the dress in tissue paper and carefully pack it away for Amelia Rose to give to her first daughter. With care, it could become a Harper family tradition, something that was sorely lacking in Faith’s life — both family and traditions.
With a sigh, she returned the hanger to the rack, then glanced at her watch. Five twenty-five. Maybe she’d been wrong in thinking Nick would prefer a meeting at the shop, where he could always claim he’d simply been asking directions or considering a purchase for one of his myriad nieces and nephews. Maybe he would prefer the privacy of her house, where there would be no prying eyes and little chance for interruption. Maybe he wouldn’t come at all but would ignore her for the next few days until his brother Michael’s wedding was over, and then return to Houston without saying so much as a word to her, the same way he’d left before. Maybe....
The bell rang, a soft, melodic tone that wouldn’t disturb even the weariest of sleeping babies, and she went cold inside. It was him. She didn’t have to turn to face the door to know it. She could feel it.
The door closed with a quiet whoosh, and slowly, gathering her courage, she turned to face him. He had come only as far as the ceramic tile. Where it gave way to plush carpet, he had stopped, hands in his jacket pockets, shoulders squared, his expression not quite a scowl. Grateful for the racks of clothing between them, she clasped her hands together underneath her belly, her way of connecting with Amelia Rose, of reassuring her daughter that everything would be all right.
For a time, they simply looked at each other. He looked like his brother Michael, only harder. Like his father Antonio, only rougher. He had his mother’s big dark eyes and his father’s square-cut jaw, had the same thick, black hair that all the Russos shared. He lacked their softness, though, their friendliness and their warmth. He looked at this moment like a mean son of a bitch, but Faith knew he could be tender. He could be gentle, warm and generous.
And he could be cold. Hostile. Aloof. Like now.
After one moment had dragged into another, then another, he finally broke the silence. “How are you?” The question was grudgingly polite, the concern minimal, the sincerity nonexistent. Luisa Russo’s manners had just barely stuck with her oldest child.
“I’m fine.” She sounded no friendlier, not even as polite.
“Do you often faint like that?”
“No, but I’m pregnant. I do all sorts of things that I don’t ordinarily do.”
With a vague nod, he glanced around the shop. Checking to make sure they were alone? she wondered. Was he afraid of someone seeing him there? Did he fear that when he sat down to dinner tonight with his parents and Michael — or, worse, tomorrow with the entire Russo clan, all forty or fifty of them — that someone would say, “Hey, Nick, I heard you were at the Baby Boutique. What were you doing there?” Maybe he could brush off the family’s curiosity, but more than likely, his wife wouldn’t be so easily put off. She would wonder what business Nick, the tough-guy cop, might have in a baby shop.
Faith would love to tell her — but, of course, she wouldn’t. Except for blurting out her secret to Wendy in this afternoon’s weak moment, she’d told no one. Not one other soul in town knew or even suspected that Nick Russo was the father of her baby...except, judging from his hostility, Nick himself. What, she wondered, would he do about it?
He moved a few steps closer, his boots making no sound on the pale gray carpet. Taking up a position directly in front of her, with a rack of miniature winter coats between them, he glanced away, then back again. Like that, a fair bit of his antagonism disappeared and was replaced with bewilderment. “Who are you?”
For a moment she simply stared at him. Then she became aware of a sinking sensation in her stomach. It was disappointment, she realized. She was incredibly disappointed. “I expected better from you than that,” she said flatly. “If we weren’t alone, if somebody else were around to hear.... But we are alone. There’s no one else here.”
“I know your name is Faith — the woman here earlier told me that. Faith Hunter.”
“Harper.”
He acknowledged her correction with another of those curt little nods. “Have we met? Did I know you when I lived here?”
Made restless by her disillusionment, Faith turned away and walked to the counter. He followed. “I knew I would see you this week,” she said. “I knew you’d come back for Michael and Michelle’s wedding. I even knew you wouldn’t be too pleased by what you saw. But I never imagined that you would be so cowardly that you would pretend not to know me.”
“Lady, if I knew you, I wouldn’t be here,” he said sharply. “I only came back because —” Breaking off, he grimaced, then went on. “Apparently, you think we have met before. Pardon me for not remembering, but when was it? When I lived here? When I was in school? One of the times I came back to visit my family?”
“We met at your brother’s engagement party.” Her voice was soft, her words as cold as the ice inside her as she locked gazes with him and waited for some response, some recognition, some hint that this was just a cruel, stupid game he was playing, but she found no such hint in his eyes. Maybe if she told him that he needn’t pretend, that the whole thing — the whole mistake — was New Hope’s best-kept secret. That she had no desire to share that secret, that night and, most especially, the product of that night with him or anyone else. Maybe if she told him all that, he would quit playing and act at least remotely similar to the man she’d thought he was.
“Michael’s engagement party?” He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”
“Oh, please,” she said scornfully.
“Look, I admit I got drunk that night. There’s not a whole lot about it that I do remember. Did something happen? Is that why you’re acting this way?”
She studied him for a long time, searching once again for some evidence of his deceit. Again, she found nothing. He looked confused, curious, a little chagrined by his admission of drunkenness and a whole lot blank. He wasn’t playing a game. He wasn’t pretending. He didn’t remember her.
Abruptly, before he could see the shock she was feeling steal across her face, Faith turned away. First she retrieved her coat and purse from the storeroom, tugged the coat on, lapped it over her stomach and belted it. Next she tucked the deposit bag
under one arm, along with her handbag, and began turning off the lights. The only ones she left burning were at the front. There she flipped the Open sign over, pulled the door open and finally looked at him. He still stood halfway across the dimly lit store.
“No,” she said at last, feeling about a hundred years old. “Nothing happened. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home. It’s been a long day.”
He hesitated as if he wanted to argue. She suspected that he did. People didn’t often give Nick Russo orders — he was usually the one in charge. But, after a moment, he came to the door, passing close to her as he stepped out into the chilly evening. She followed him out, waited for the door to swing shut, then locked it.
“Where are you parked?” The grudgingly offered politeness was back in his voice.
“In the lot out back.”
“I’ll walk you —”
Perversely, she interrupted. “I’ve got to go to the bank first.” She turned toward the bank, less than two blocks away down New Hope’s main street, and he fell into step beside her. When she stopped, so did he, and he matched the ferocity of her scowl degree by degree. “I don’t need an escort.”
“Only a fool would carry a bag of cash down the street by herself after dark when most of the businesses downtown, including the bank, are already closed for the day. And, you, Ms. Hunt — Ms. Harper — don’t look like a fool.”
Faith felt the strangest urge to both laugh and cry at that. “You’re wrong, Mr. Russo,” she said, giving in just for a moment to bitter laughter. “I’m the biggest fool New Hope has ever seen.” Pulling the bank bag from under her arm, she pushed it against his chest. “You want to play Good Samaritan? Here. You make the deposit. I’m going home.”
Quickly, before he could respond, she turned and headed back the way they’d come, turning the corner, walking as quickly as Amelia Rose would allow. Once she reached her car, she fumbled with the lock before finally getting the door open and sliding inside. She was halfway home before the trembling in her hands stopped, before the tightness in her chest eased enough to allow her to draw a deep breath, before the emptiness inside her started to disappear, before her heart calmed enough to deal with the disillusionment and hurt.