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Those Baby Blues

Dorchester Publishing

All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-505-52483-X

Chapter One

Hadleigh's first, instinctive response to Dr. Manubay's grave
announcement was to laugh. She was joking, of course. She had
to be. But someone definitely needed to tell her this was not
the time or place for humor-although Hadleigh would be the
first to agree that Jim's return from abroad after nearly a
five-year absence and subsequent demand for a paternity test
was a joke-a cheap attempt to humiliate her.

Of course Samantha was Jim's child! She had never even
considered being unfaithful during their brief marriage. There
was, however, considerable suspicion regarding Jim's fidelity.

"Are you certain, doctor?"

Jim's terse question jarred Hadleigh with the ridiculous
realization that they were both serious. She glared at Jim,
who had changed little in the time he'd been absent from their
lives.

Thank God Samantha was nothing like him.

"Of course Samantha's your child," Hadleigh snapped out. It
would be convenient for her and Jim if Samantha wasn't,
because then Jim could do another disappearing act with a
clear conscience. But after the doctor's silly statement,
Hadleigh felt a perverse need to convince Jim and Dr. Manubay.

The doctor shook her head. "There's no mistake, Mrs.
Charmaine, andI'm afraid there's more bad news."

"Miss Charmaine," Hadleigh corrected automatically, feeling as
if she'd stepped into the twilight zone without a script.
Inwardly, she braced herself for another blow. "What-what do
you mean, there's more? Is-is something wrong with Samantha?"
Panic sank its teeth into her. Had they found something in
Samantha's blood?

"No, there's nothing wrong with Samantha." Dr. Manubay paused,
obviously reluctant to continue. "But according to the
extensive DNA tests your ex-husband demanded, Samantha
couldn't possibly be your child, either."

The room tilted wildly. Hadleigh squeezed her eyes shut.
"Not ... my ... child?" she repeated over the buzzing in her ears.
"What a ridiculous thing to say!"

"What in God's name do you mean?" Jim demanded, for once in
harmony with Hadleigh.

Dr. Manubay looked from one bewildered face to the other, her
expression one of sincere sympathy. "The only plausible
explanation I can think of is that you brought the wrong baby
home from the hospital. It's rare, but unfortunately, it does
happen, despite every precaution."

"Impossible!" Hadleigh nearly shouted. The panic dug its claws
in deeper. "I've raised Samantha for four years. I think I
would know my own child!"

"Does she favor you-or your husband?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Have you recognized any obvious traits in Samantha?"

Cold fear clutched Hadleigh's heart like a vise. It was true
that Samantha's volatile nature and high energy had baffled
her from the beginning, and she had just assumed that
somewhere in a past generation she or Jim had had an ancestor
with red hair, which would account for Sam's auburn tint.
Samantha's crystal-blue eyes had been even more perplexing, as
Jim's eyes were brown, and Hadleigh's were green. But these
disturbing facts didn't mean-couldn't mean-"Samantha's my
child," she heard herself state with a tinge of desperation.
"Do the tests again, and you'll find that you've made a
mistake."

"We've performed the test three times, Miss Charmaine. I had
my own doubts about the results. We could do it again-at your
expense, of course-but these tests are rarely wrong."

Three times.

"No, that won't be necessary." Hadleigh halted her trembling
bottom lip with her teeth and glanced at Jim. The tight
compression of his mouth signaled disapproval, and when they
were married, had prompted in her instant feelings of
ineptitude and bewildering guilt.

She was relieved to note that his reaction meant nothing to
her now.

Numb with shock, she turned back to Dr. Manubay. "What do we
do now?"

"We sue the damned hospital, that's what!" Jim said.

Dr. Manubay sighed. "Can't say that I blame you. But in the
meantime, it's the hospital's responsibility to find out where
your real baby is. They'll have records of who delivered
around the time Samantha was born." She sat back in her chair
and placed a finger on her rounded chin. "Don't worry, they'll
find your child."

Hadleigh took a deep breath, struggling against an
overwhelming urge to throw up. Something vital had just
occurred to her. Something horrendous, and ugly. Something
unthinkable.

"No!" she burst out, jumping to her feet and startling the
doctor and Jim. "I won't give Samantha up-she's my daughter! I
can't just hand her over to strangers!"

"Hadleigh, she's not ours. We know nothing about her
parentage," Jim said in that pompous, patronizing tone
Hadleigh didn't miss one bit. "In fact, we have no idea how
our real daughter has been raised-" He was stopped by a
quelling look from Dr. Manubay.

"Miss Charmaine, I'm afraid we have no choice. Somewhere out
there someone else has your child. That means you have their
child. Ethically and lawfully, we have to let them know."

"How ... how much time do I have?"

"Until we find the other child. I'm sorry, Miss Charmaine."

Without responding, Hadleigh rose and stalked from the room.
If she didn't have much time with Samantha, then she didn't
want to waste another moment.

As for Jim and his not-so-gallant attempts to reconnect with
his daughter, she had a very strong feeling that after today,
she would never have to worry about Jim or his scheming,
childless wife again.

* * *

"Daddy, is this a boat?"

Sitting the director's chair with Caroline on his lap, Treet
Miller glanced at the book in her hands. "That's definitely a
boat. See the paddle wheels?"

"Peddle wheels? What's that?"

Smiling, Treet explained, knowing he was paving the road for a
whole new set of questions. It didn't matter; he never seemed
to tire of answering.

"Treet! Break's over. We need to shoot this scene before
midnight." Sands Echo, the youngest director in history, waved
at him from across the set.

Caroline curled her little fingers around his arm and
whispered, "No, Daddy. Not yet!"

Treet's heart melted at the sight of her upturned, earnest
face. With a wink, he called out to Sands, "Give us another
five, will ya?"

Sands let out a dramatic sigh as he walked in Treet's
direction. "Okay, but I'm sending makeup over. Oh, and you
have a phone call."

Frowning at the intrusion, Treet took the cell phone and
jammed it between ear and shoulder so that his hands would be
free to continue turning the pages. Caroline didn't seem to
notice his preoccupation, pointing at pictures and asking
questions with a relentlessness that continued to astound
Treet.

"What's this, Daddy?"

"A shark." He pressed the phone closer to his ear. "Hello?
Treet Miller here."

"Does it bite?" Caroline persisted, forcing his face downward
again with her chubby little hands.

"Hold on one sec," he instructed his mystery caller. Laughing,
Treet kissed Caroline's nose. "Only if you bite first," he
whispered. The official-sounding voice in his ear snagged his
attention.

"Mr. Miller? This is Wade Collins. I'm the administrator for
County Central Hospital. I need to meet with you about a
serious matter concerning your daughter."

Treet's eyes narrowed. He stiffened in the chair. "What about
her?" he demanded, silently signaling his bodyguard, Brutal,
with a snap of his fingers. If this was a threat, it wouldn't
be the first Treet had received, but when it involved Caroline
he didn't take chances.

When the big, burly man reached his side, Treet shifted
Caroline into his massive arms. Caroline opened her mouth to
protest, but immediately clamped it shut as Treet put a finger
to his lips. She regarded him with dark eyes as if she sensed
his sudden urgency, one arm linked trustingly around Brutal's
thick neck.

"I'd prefer to talk to you in person," Mr. Collins stated.

"And I'd prefer that you didn't bullcrap me." Anger hardened
Treet's voice. "So whatever you have to share with me will
have to be over the phone-if you have anything to share, that
is."

Silence. Treet counted his heartbeats as he waited, and forced
himself to smile at Caroline.

Her gaze remained pensive and unwavering. She was nobody's
fool, Treet thought with a surge of pride.

"Very well."

Mr. Collins cleared his throat, and the agitated sound sent a
shiver of premonition along Treet's spine. He stifled the urge
to hang up.

"I don't guess there's an easy way to say this."

"Just get to the da-" Treet's angry gaze collided with the
bodyguard's. Brutal had been after him to clean up his
language. He gritted his teeth and amended his words in
deference to his listening daughter. "Just get to the point."

"You currently have custody of Caroline Nicole Windsor,
correct?"

"Incorrect. It's Caroline Nicole Miller. Miss Windsor granted
me full custody."

"She's not your daughter."

For a full thirty seconds Treet couldn't speak, and in those
tension-fraught thirty seconds he thought of every nasty name
he could remember from childhood and beyond, then directed
them at his agent, Todd Hall.

Unfortunately, the unlucky agent was in Australia at the
moment. But he'd have to come back to Hollywood eventually,
and when he did Treet planned to tear him a new-

"I know this is going to sound like something straight from
the headlines, Mr. Miller, but there was a mix-up at the
hospital the day your daughter was born." Mr. Collins,
apparently oblivious to Treet's boiling fury, continued. "Your
daughter went home with someone else."

Treet nearly dropped the phone. "Excuse me?"

"Your daughter-your real daughter went home with someone
else." When the silence stretched again, the administrator
prompted, "Mr. Miller? Are you there?"

"Yes." Treet closed his eyes, reeling from the news. Caroline
wasn't Caroline? Caroline wasn't Cheyenne's daughter?

When he opened his eyes and focused on Caroline, she blew him
a kiss and grinned as if to reassure him. A wrenching pain
grabbed his heart as another, more staggering thought occurred
to him.

"What-" He cleared the hoarseness from his voice. "What does
all this mean?" He couldn't give her up. Not a chance. She had
changed his life, brought out the good that had been hiding in
his soul.

She was his light.

When his friends called his house, they heard Caroline's
sweet, piping little voice on the announcement.

His video library overflowed with cartoons and Disney movies.
He had watched The Lion King fifty-five times, and could
recite the dialogue by heart.

Caroline's little pink princess robe hung on a hook in the
bathroom next to his own. There was a doll in the every room
of the house, and jelly stains on the kitchen counters that
his housekeeper declared would never come out.

"Well, we'll have to get this straightened out. We have an
excellent counselor here at the hospital that can help the two
of you figure out the best way to work through this."

"The two of us?"

"Yes, you and Miss Charmaine. She's the woman who has your
real daughter. She's already been informed. I-I didn't tell
her who you were, because I didn't want to overwhelm her
further. If you've got a pen handy, I'll give you her number.
You should get in touch with her within the week and set up an
appointment to see our counselor. We'd like to make this as
painless as possible for both children."

Treet fumbled in his shirt pocket and extracted a crayon. He
stared at it. Green, Caroline's favorite color. Another pain
squeezed his heart. His mind went into overdrive as he
scrambled for an alternative.

Miss Charmaine. Miss. A single mother. Maybe he could work out
a deal with her, get her to forget the whole crazy revelation.
Or persuade her to give him both daughters.

"Mr. Miller? Are you ready for the number?"

"Yes, I'm ready." Treet flipped to the back of Caroline's
picture book and began to scribble.

His hands shook.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Those Baby Blues
by Sheridan Smythe
Copyright © 2002 by Sheridan Smythe.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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