her lap. One look at Harlan Patrick and her mouth gaped. Her gaze snapped from him to Laurie and back again.
“Uh-oh,” she murmured as she stood up. Her worried gaze landed on Laurie again. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”
Harlan Patrick grinned at the unspoken willingness to call out the security troops if need be. Laurie shook her head.
“It’s okay, Val. I can manage Mr. Adams.”
Val looked skeptical. “If you say so.” She edged toward the door with obvious reluctance. “If you need anything, anything at all...”
“I know where to find you,” Laurie replied. “Thanks. Is the baby okay?”
“Sleeping like a little angel,” Val assured her. “She had a bottle about an hour ago and drifted right off.” She cast one last worried look at him, then shrugged. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
Laurie nodded. “Good night, Val.”
When Val had gone, Harlan Patrick studied Laurie. “Are all of your employees willing to go the extra mile for you?”
“Pretty much.” A smile hovered on her lips. “Some of the guys in the band can swing a mean guitar and they do love a brawl. You might want to remember that.”
The echo of his earlier taunt hung in the air. Finally he nodded his agreement. “Duly warned.”
Now that they were actually in her room, she seemed at a loss. Clearly she wasn’t going to take him to his daughter without more prompting.
“Where is she?” he asked finally, then gestured toward what seemed likely to be the bedroom door. “In there?”
Laurie looked as if she’d like to deny it, but she finally shrugged. “Yes.” She rested a hand against his sleeve. “Please, Harlan Patrick, don’t wake her.”
“I told you I wouldn’t.” He headed for the bedroom, then stopped when he realized she wasn’t following. “Aren’t you coming with me? Or don’t you want to be around when a daddy sees his baby for the first time? Can’t say I blame you. It could set off a whole streak of guilt.”
Tears welled up in her eyes at that, and he wondered if he’d pushed her too far with his sarcasm and anger. He wanted to hurt her, though, wanted her to know the kind of pain he’d been suffering from the moment he’d seen that baby’s picture on the front page of that tabloid.
He turned away from her tears and strode into the bedroom, halting at the sight of a crib that had been set up in a corner. The puffy yellow gingham comforter with its design of daisies and ducks wasn’t hotel issue. He was sure of that. Nor was the host of stuffed animals stuck around the sides like padding.
A huge lump formed in his throat as he crept closer. He felt the salty sting of tears as he caught his first glimpse of her with her diapered bottom poked in the air.
His first child, he thought, his throat choked with emotion. His.
By his calculations she was just over six months old now, a little plump and an Adams through and through. Bubbles formed at the corners of that little rosebud mouth, and her skin looked soft as satin. She was sleeping on her tummy with her still-damp thumb just a fraction of an inch from her mouth.
Words failed him. He just stood beside the crib and stared, stunned to discover that tears were welling up and overflowing. He was swamped by a feeling of protectiveness so deep, so powerful that it was all he could do not to grab her up and run with her back to White Pines where he could keep her safe always.
Instinctively he reached for her, then stopped himself as he remembered his promise not to wake her. But, oh, how he wanted to hold her, wanted to feel the weight of her in his arms, skim a knuckle over the delicate curve of her cheek. She was his precious first-born, and he didn’t even know her name.
Realizing that brought back the anger, but he held it in check. Later there would be plenty of time for more recriminations. Right now he wanted only to drink in the sight of this tiny baby who was a part of him.
A part of him and Laurie, he reminded himself. This should have been something they shared from beginning to end. He should have been there to see her body swollen with his child. He should have been able to place his hand on her belly and feel that first miraculous stirring of life inside her. He