Accidental Family (5 page)

“Me, neither.” Ed chuckled. “I suppose I’ve got plenty of antiques out at my place, too, but I’ve just always called ’em junk.”

“Rowena seems to like them,” Alan said, finding himself unable to stop thinking about her. “Her shop had a lot of vintage fixtures. It looks great.”

“I’ve seen her at a couple of estate auctions,” Ed concurred as he salted his eggs. “Those are really the best places to get a good buy if you’re into antiques. Some people even make a hobby of it.”

“Does she go alone?” Alan asked, still perplexed that a woman like her wasn’t involved with anyone.

Ed shrugged. “I guess so.”

Alan didn’t understand how a woman like Rowena could be unattached. Of course, he could ask the same of himself. Ever since he’d beaten cancer, his life had been full of activities. Almost too full to have any kind of a social life. But none of those activities could seem to assuage the aching emptiness he sometimes felt inside.

In the last three years, he’d dated only a handful of women. And no one more than once or twice. The playboy life had never appealed to him, but now more than ever he wanted something other than a temporary relationship. Something that had meaning. Purpose. Something he couldn’t seem to find, no matter how hard he tried.

“I wonder if Rowena ever gets lonely,” he mused.

“Rowena?” Ed said, loudly enough to draw the attention of Clint and Maureen. “Heck, no. She doesn’t seem lonely to me. Always so sweet and cheerful.”

Maureen spoke up. “Ed’s right. Rowena has plenty of good friends to watch out for her.”

The woman’s tone was friendly enough, but Alan heard the note of warning behind it. No doubt she wondered why he was so interested in Rowena Dahl.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Alan said, realizing it was time to change the subject. He’d already made an enemy of Rowena. He didn’t want to alienate anybody else in Cooper’s Corner. “By the way, I may need to send some work to my office in Toronto while I’m here. Do you happen to have a fax machine available?”

Clint nodded. “I have one in the office you’re welcome to use anytime.”

“Thanks,” Alan said, rising from his chair and dropping his linen napkin on his plate. “And thanks for breakfast, too. It was great.”

“You’re welcome,” Maureen said, her gaze friendly once more. “Please let us know if you need anything else. And don’t forget to come down for afternoon tea. We serve around four o’clock.”

“Thanks,” he replied, pushing his chair in. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Alan walked out of the dining room and up the stairs to his bedroom. At least his head wasn’t pounding anymore. A low ache in his temple made him grab a couple of aspirins out of his suitcase and wash them down with a glass of water. Now if he could just get this fascination with Rowena Dahl out of his system.

Somehow he knew the cure wouldn’t be so easy.

CHAPTER SIX

R
OWENA
WALKED
INTO
Cooper’s Corner General Store two days after her consultation with her attorney and stomped her snowy boots on the large rubber mat. The heat emanating from the radiator melted the icy snowflakes clinging to her hair and eyelashes.

Phyllis Cooper, a short, portly woman with gray-blond hair, stood behind the cash register. She and her husband, Philo, owned the store and took an active interest in all of their customers. Sometimes too active. The couple were known for sharing the latest news and juicy tidbits with everyone who walked into their store. But they were good people at heart.

“Think this dang snow will stop anytime soon?” Phyllis asked her.

“I sure hope so,” Rowena replied, pulling off her black leather gloves. “I’m going to have to restock my woodpile soon. Winter is usually my favorite season, but spring can’t start soon enough for me this year.”

“Same here.” Phyllis shook her head and emitted a long sigh. “This weather is keeping all our customers away, although Philo has been making several delivery runs. Hardly a soul’s been in the store all day.”

Rowena bit back a smile, certain Phyllis and Philo missed the local gossip their customers supplied as much as their business.

“Well, my cupboards are almost empty,” Rowena told her, “so I may be here for a while. I want to stock up before the next storm hits.”

“Go ahead and take your time,” Phyllis said as the telephone rang beside her. “And check out those chocolate chip granola bars you like so much over in aisle six. They’re on sale today.”

“Thanks.” Rowena grabbed a grocery cart and started down the produce aisle. She’d been serious about her empty cupboards. When she’d stepped onto the bathroom scale this morning after her shower, she’d been horrified to find she’d lost a pound since last week.

Thanks to Alan Rand.

It had been three days since she’d seen him, but just thinking about him still upset her. Maybe because he reminded her a little of Max Heller, a director on
Another Dawn
whom she’d dated for almost a year. At first, Max had been fun and charming. So concerned about her career and happiness.

But after a few months, that concern had started to turn obsessive. He’d wanted to make all her decisions for her. To direct every move she made, not only on camera but off. His advice had evolved from suggestions to commands to outright threats. When she finally broke up with him, he started sending her letters, pretending to be a deranged fan. Although she’d never had any definite proof he was the one behind them, she’d known it was him.

Max had been the main reason she’d finally left the show. She’d been growing weary of the frantic pace of the city anyway and knew she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in New York. She didn’t tell anyone where she was going and, thankfully, Max didn’t attempt to track her down. No doubt he was trying to dominate another ingenue actress. Rowena swore she’d never let herself get trapped in such a controlling relationship again.

She mentally shook herself. That was all a long time ago. She didn’t want to think about Max Heller anymore. Or about Alan Rand. But as she began bagging some oranges, she couldn’t help but wonder if Alan was still in town. Either he’d already gone back to Toronto or he was holed up in his room at Twin Oaks.

She placed a head of lettuce into her cart, then pushed it into the next aisle. Slowing her step, she let her gaze wander over the colorful jars of baby food lined up on the shelves. Strained green beans. Strained chicken and rice. Strained peaches. She smiled, wondering which her baby would like best. There was such a wide variety to choose from. And not only in the baby food section. Her gaze moved to the rows of disposable diapers, then to the different brands of formula.

So many decisions to make. Decisions she should be enjoying during this special time, instead of worrying about what kind of bribe Alan would try next.

She pushed the cart over to a small display of stuffed animals near the end of the aisle, intrigued by a cute little purple giraffe that rattled when you shook it. Rubbing the soft fur against her cheek, she sighed, then placed it back in the display bin. She had plenty of time to buy it before the baby was born.

Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was pique Phyllis Cooper’s curiosity about why she would buy such a thing now, before she’d even announced her pregnancy. Although she knew she couldn’t keep her baby a secret much longer, Rowena wasn’t about to make the announcement until Alan was out of the picture.

Rounding the corner, she almost bumped into another grocery cart. “Excuse me...” The words trailed off as she looked into the face of her nemesis.

“Hello, Rowena,” Alan said. He looked as handsome as ever in a pine green pullover sweater and faded blue denim jeans that hugged his narrow hips and muscular legs.

So much for her hope that he’d gone back to Canada. She sucked in a deep breath. No matter what he said today, she wouldn’t let him upset her. “This is a surprise. What are you doing here?”

“Just picking up a few necessities.”

She looked in his cart, dismayed to find it almost half full. She saw toothpaste, bananas, oranges, tomato juice, bottled water and three boxes of chocolate chip granola bars. Enough items to bring a big smile to Phyllis Cooper’s face. “Just how long are you planning to stay in Cooper’s Corner?”

“Awhile,” he replied vaguely, his gaze falling to her mouth for a moment, then meeting her eyes once more.

To her irritation, a blush warmed her cheeks. She hated the effect Alan seemed to have on her. “Are you stalking me now?”

“Hey, I was in the store first.”

“Why are you interfering in my life?” she asked, searching the shelf for the granola bars. When she saw it was empty, she glared at his cart. “And why are you hogging all the granola bars? Has it become your goal in life to try and take away everything I want?”

“I like granola bars,” he explained calmly. “And I don’t want to take your baby away from you. I just want to be a father.”

“Keep your voice down,” she admonished, then cast a look around. But the aisle was empty except for the two of them. She turned to him. “Why are you still here, Alan? Your home is Toronto. I won’t interfere in your life in any way. All I ask is that you show me the same consideration.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “This isn’t about us,” he said in a husky whisper. “It’s about the baby. I can’t just walk away.”

“Can’t or won’t?” she asked. “You don’t even want this baby, remember?” Just the memory of his arrogance infuriated her. “You wanted me to get rid of it!”

“That’s not true.” He took a step closer to her. “You made the wrong assumption the other day, Rowena. I would never ask you to terminate this pregnancy. I did some research before I came to Cooper’s Corner and found one of the best obstetricians in the state. I wanted you to go to him and I intended to pay for everything. That’s why I wrote out that check. To prove to you that I plan to support this baby. To help you out every step of the way.”

“We don’t need your money, Alan.”

“I know the baby needs a father,” he said, his voice rising. “And you know it, too, Rowena. I can see it in your eyes.”

So now he was telepathic. Her hands tightened on the cart handle. “Lots of children grow up without fathers and do just fine.”

“That may be true,” he agreed. “But at the moment, all I care about is my child. And I damn well intend to be part of his life. As soon as I take that paternity test, you’ll know beyond a doubt that I am the father and—”

“I already know it,” she interjected.

He blinked. “What?”

“You don’t need to take a paternity test,” she said tightly. “The Orr Clinic confirmed that your sperm deposit was used to impregnate me.”

He nodded, relief flashing in his eyes. “So now we can start making plans for the future.”

The pounding of her heart made it difficult to think. He was so tall. So...male. “Not so fast, Alan. I think you should know I’ve already consulted with my attorney.”

“So have I,” he countered. “And your lawyer probably told you the same thing. That this will be a big mess to work out in the courts, if it gets that far, but that I definitely have a case.”

So much for her hope he would back down gracefully. “Is this really how you want to start the baby’s life? With a battle between its parents?”

“No.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “I’d prefer it if you’d simply recognize my rights as this baby’s father.”

“It’s not as simple as you want to believe,” she replied. “I refuse to have my child shuttled back and forth between two countries for the next eighteen years.”

His eyes darkened. “And I refuse to allow
my
child to grow up believing his father doesn’t care. I’m the father of your baby, Rowena. The fact that you’re not happy about it doesn’t change anything. I think it’s time for you to accept the inevitable.”

Rowena could see he was as implacable as he’d been the last time she’d seen him. It was like talking to a brick wall. This conversation wasn’t getting them anywhere. “And I think you should stop telling me what to do.”

Abruptly she turned away from him and grabbed the last box of detergent off the middle shelf. A weathered face peered out from the opening on the other side.

“Philo,” she cried, jumping back in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Dusting,” he replied, holding up a feather duster in his hand to prove it. Then he cast his curious gaze toward Alan. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Rowena swallowed a groan. She had no doubt Philo had heard every word of their conversation. “No, not at all.”

“Good.” Philo swiped the feather duster over the immaculate shelf. “I’ll just leave you two alone now.” Then he was gone. Probably in a hurry to fill his wife in on this latest morsel of local gossip.

She whirled on Alan. “Now look what you’ve done!”

“Me?” he replied, having the audacity to look innocent. “All I did was come in here for a tube of toothpaste and some snacks. You’re the one who brought up the subject of the baby.”

“Now everyone in Cooper’s Corner will know I’m pregnant,” she cried, too upset to care who was at fault. “Even worse, they’ll think you’re the father.”

His jaw tightened. “I
am
the father.”

Grabbing her cart, she barreled down the aisle. “Leave me alone, Alan. From now on, if you want to talk to me, do it through my lawyer.”

She abandoned the cart at the door and walked out of the store with Phyllis staring after her. Standing on the curb, she wrapped her coat more tightly around her, knowing she shouldn’t let Alan affect her this way, much less chase her out of the store. She needed to eat, no matter how much trouble he caused in her life. Cooper’s Corner was too small for her to avoid him.

And why should she try? This was her town. Her home. Alan Rand was the interloper. Her nightmare with Max had taught her that the very worst thing she could do was back down from him—either in the grocery store or in a courtroom.

The winter air cooled her temper as she stood on the sidewalk. She didn’t need to panic. The baby wouldn’t be born until July. He’d never stick around Cooper’s Corner for that long. Alan had a life in Toronto. A high-powered job in publishing. Once he realized she couldn’t be browbeaten or bullied, he’d leave her alone.

She turned to walk inside and resume her shopping when the door opened and Alan stepped out.

“Are you always this high-strung?” he asked, two bulging grocery bags in his arms.

“Are you always this much of a control freak?”

“I’m just staking my claim, Rowena. The baby belongs to both of us.”

She clenched her teeth, wondering why it was so easy for him to goad her. Then she forced a smile, using every ounce of her acting talent to portray a calmness she was far from feeling. “Here in America, possession is nine-tenths of the law. And right now, this baby belongs to me.”

“Don’t fight me on this, Rowena.” His gaze narrowed on her. “I will do whatever is necessary to win this case.”

“So will I,” she vowed.

A wry smile tipped up the corner of his mouth. “With two parents as determined as we are, our baby will probably grow up to become prime minister.”

“I think you mean president,” she countered, brushing past him as she walked into the store. For once, she’d gotten in the last word.

He’d better get used to it.

* * *

T
HIRTY
MINUTES
LATER
, Rowena pulled her car up to the post office, the back seat full of groceries. Cooper’s Corner no longer had a mailman, so the residents picked up their mail each day from a post office box.

She met Keegan Cooper at the door, his arms full of envelopes and packages for Twin Oaks.

“Hey, there,” she said, bending to pick up a magazine he’d dropped. “Do you need a lift home? It’s quite a walk all the way to Twin Oaks.”

“Nah, my dad’s coming to pick me up in a few minutes. He’s just over at the library checking out some videotapes for one of our guests.” Keegan grinned. “Tapes about you.”

A prickle of apprehension skittered up her spine. “About me?”

He nodded. “Yeah, those old
Another Dawn
videotapes. I think Mr. Rand is a big fan. He’s been asking all sorts of questions about you.”

Despite the cold, Rowena’s anger at the man flared hot once again.

“Is something wrong?” Keegan asked, tilting his head toward her. “You look kinda mad.”

“No,” she replied, forcing her anger aside. Alan Rand could watch those tapes until his eyeballs fell out. He’d never find anything to use against her in court, if that was his intention. “I’m fine.” She gave the boy a reassuring smile. “How about you? Is school going well?”

He shrugged. “I guess. The only thing the girls want to talk about is the Sweetheart Dance.”

“Do you have a date yet?”

He grimaced. “No. I don’t want one, either.”

“Are you sure?” she teased. “I’m still available. Or you could ask Alison.” She pointed toward the post office. Alison Fairchild was the local postmistress and had lived in Cooper’s Corner all of her twenty-eight years. “You could show up with one of us and make all those girls at school jealous.”