the invaluable Val, whose last name and room number he didn’t know?
When he was about to concede that he was going to have to wake Laurie, he was struck by an inspiration. There was a tiny refrigerator in the room. Under normal circumstances it would be stocked with sodas and liquor and overpriced snacks, but maybe Laurie Jensen would rate a selection of baby bottles instead. He used the key that had been left lying on top of the refrigerator. Sure enough, there was a handful of bottles tucked inside.
“See there, darlin’, Daddy’s not going to let you down. We just have one little problem left. Something tells me you won’t like this stuff if it’s cold as ice.”
He glanced around, but there was no sign of a microwave. He could think of only one alternative. “Shall we take a little stroll down to the hotel kitchen and have it heated? I know it’s barely daybreak, but surely someone will be stirring down there.”
Amy Lynn gurgled in apparent agreement.
He propped the baby against a nest of pillows while he paused to tug on his boots. Even the momentary abandonment almost brought on a fresh bout of tears. The instant he had her back in his arms, she beamed at him approvingly, clearly pleased that he was catching on. He slipped quietly out of the room and carried her and the bottle downstairs.
The only waitress on duty in the hotel restaurant at that early hour took one look at the two of them and rushed to help.
Harlan Patrick held out the bottle. “Help? I know you’re probably not quite ready to open, but we have a little emergency here.”
“No problem. I’ll have that heated right up for you,” she said, taking the bottle and giving him a less than surreptitious once-over. “Just have a seat at that table over there by the window. It’s got the best view in the room. The sun ought to be sneaking up over the mountains any minute now. You want a cup of coffee when I come back, sugar? It should be just about ready by now.”
Harlan Patrick thought of the acid already churning in his stomach from last night’s caffeine overdose and shook his head. “Maybe a big glass of orange juice and some toast, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Coming right up,” she promised.
She was back in no time with the juice, the toast and the heated bottle. His daughter took the bottle and began sucking lustily. He grinned at her enthusiasm. “Most definitely an Adams,” he observed. “We all have healthy appetites.”
“She’s a beautiful baby,” the waitress said.
“Isn’t she?”
“And you’re a natural with her. She’s a lucky kid.”
Harlan Patrick grinned. “Thanks.”
“You give a holler if you need anything else.”
He glanced at his daughter. “Oh, I think we’re all set now.”
After the waitress had gone, he held Amy Lynn contentedly while she finished the bottle, staring at her in awe, still unable to believe he’d had a part in creating anything this perfect, this fragile. This time alone with her reassured him that his determination to make a place for himself in her life was well-founded. He’d always wanted kids, but it had been an abstract kind of longing, something he pictured in his future with Laurie. Amy Lynn was real, and the protective paternal sensations she stirred in him were overwhelming.
Just when he was finishing up his juice and thinking it was time to go back upstairs, all hell broke loose. Security guards, trailed by a frantic Laurie, still wearing only the Dallas Cowboys T-shirt, along with Val and several men Harlan Patrick guessed were members of the band came charging into the dining room.
“There,” Laurie shouted, pointing at him and practically quivering with outrage. “There he is. He’s trying to steal my baby.”
Harlan Patrick reacted with stunned silence to the outrageous accusation.
Even before the guards could react, Laurie rushed across the room and tried to snatch Amy Lynn from Harlan Patrick’s arms. He stared at her and held the baby out of reach.
“Have you lost your mind?” he asked Laurie in a deceptively mild tone as men surrounded him.
“You took her,” she accused. “You took her without my permission.”
When one of the guards reached for him, Harlan Patrick shot a quelling look in his direction that instantly had the man backing off.
“Ms. Jensen, it looks like your baby’s just fine,” one guard suggested quietly. “He hasn’t gone anywhere with her.”
“He just brought her down for a bottle,” the waitress chimed in.