She made note of the information, fuming as she did that it wasn't decent for a child to be in the care of a woman like that. Memories of the first time they'd met, and of Molly Eden's teasing remark about not recognizing Joseph with his clothes on, disgusted her.

"It's just not right," Marjorie muttered. "A child needs his own mother. Not an overavailable female who happens to live next door."

She didn't see it as wrong that she was taking too much upon herself to worry about her boss's private life. As far as she was concerned, it was her duty to see that a nice man like Joseph Rossi didn't make the same awful mistakes as her ex-husband had done. It was that irrational thinking that made her do something very unlike her-something very unprofessional. She went into Joseph's office and snooped.

Days earlier, Joseph had remarked about needing to return certain papers to his safe-deposit box. She knew for a fact that they were papers that concerned his legal relationship with his son. After the incident at the day-care center, he'd had to show proof of his legal custody and guardianship rights as well as prove that he was really Joey's father. If she was right, the mother's name should be mentioned somewhere on the papers.

Her hands shook and her heart was pounding as she opened the file. Nervously, she glanced toward the closed door, then began to search. She didn't have long to look.

Shock at what she read overwhelmed her. Somehow, Joseph had coerced Joey's natural mother into giving up all rights and claims to her child forever. She was appalled at the clinical manner with which her rights had been disposed of. While Marjorie knew and accepted that many women could give birth and then give their child away, she wouldn't let herself believe that this was the case. In her mind, she was certain that if Joey Rossi's mother knew what danger her child was in, she'd surely come running.

She wrote down the information she needed, and quickly returned the papers to Joseph's desk drawer. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and, she thought, in the long run, he'd thank her. It was with that misguided bit of information and thinking that she went about doing her bit toward trying to ruin the rest of Joseph's life.

The windshield wipers gave a halfhearted swipe at the sheet of rain blowing against the windshield. But Molly knew the city like the back of her hand, and she negotiated the streets almost on autopilot. Instead, her thoughts were focused on the way Joey's arms felt as he threw them around her neck or the way that his eyes could well with unshed tears when his feelings had been hurt. She couldn't imagine him in pain. And she knew that when Joseph was finally found, he would be devastated, knowing that his baby had suffered alone. All she could do was get there as quickly and safely as possible. If Joey needed someone and his daddy wasn't available, then "momma" would have to do.

Her hands were shaking as she wheeled into the parking garage across the street from Saint Anthony's Hospital. Seconds later, she was out of her car and running before she remembered that she hadn't even put on her jacket. But there was no way she'd turn back. All she could think about was getting inside and looking into Joey's face, a.s.suring herself that he was all right. He just had to be.

"G.o.d help me, I can't lose another child," she whispered, and then dashed out into the rain and across the street.

It didn't dawn on her that Joey wasn't hers to lose. He and his father had already taken up residence in her heart.

Lila Forshee was trying not to get hysterical. But the doctor and nurses who were tending Joey were having a difficult time keeping him still long enough for treatment. His screams and shrieks could be heard all the way down the long hallway in X-ray.

Joey Rossi's world was coming apart at the seams. Strangers were hurting him, and the unfamiliar smells and noises only added to his terror.

Lila paced the waiting area outside of the ER, hoping that someone would arrive soon who could soothe the child's fears. Her heart was breaking for the toddler in panic, but she'd been unable to calm him, and only wound up getting in the doctor's way. Waiting out here while he was being treated was her only option. She glanced at her watch, wishing as she had for the last few minutes that Joseph Rossi would make a miraculous appearance, and then she heard the rapid sound of footsteps and looked up. Relief came with the tall slender woman who was running in an all-out sprint down the hallway.

"Molly...thank G.o.d you're here!"

Lila's worried expression turned Molly's stomach. The room tilted. She refused to admit, even to herself, that she was scared out of her mind. Fainting was not an option. She grabbed Lila's arms, literally shaking the answer out of her.

"Where is he? Is he hurt badly? I could hear him screaming before I got off the elevator."

Lila pointed, and Molly ran.

"Momma!"

The child's kicking and screaming stopped simultaneously with Molly's arrival. His silence shocked the doctor and nurses in attendance almost as much as what he said. They turned as one in time to see the slender woman who burst through the doorway. They didn't even have time to move before she rushed past them, grabbed Joey from the bed and clasped him to her breast as if she needed him to take her next breath.

Tears that Molly had been willing away suddenly flowed. But it didn't matter now. She was here, and Joey was in her arms.

"Well now, little man," the doctor said, as he leaned against a cabinet and smiled at the now near-silent child. "I see why you were so worried. I would be worried too, if I didn't have someone this pretty holding me."

Molly smiled through tears as she raked her gaze across Joey's face and body, trying not to gasp at the amount of blood on his clothes, then sank onto the bed with Joey cradled against her breast. She smoothed the hair away from his forehead, noting for the first time the three tiny st.i.tches just below his hairline, and tried not to burst into a fresh set of tears. Joey'd had a big enough fit alone, he didn't need to see her distress and start a new one.

"How is he?" Molly asked, and unconsciously rocked Joey as he slipped his thumb into his mouth and tried to work himself up into another set of tears. His sniffles and sobs nearly broke her heart.

"Except for a cut on his forehead, which we managed to st.i.tch-against his wishes, I might add-he seems to be fine. He's been x-rayed and given a thumbs-up, although I will say that Frank down in radiology will never be the same." The doctor grinned to make his point. "Sounds really echo down there. You could hear this fellow on the next floor." He pointed to the child in Molly's arms.

"I fell," Joey announced. "Want my daddy." Just thinking about his absent parent sent a fresh set of tears flowing, but the screams and shrieks had disappeared with Molly's arrival.

"I know, darling," Molly said, and hugged him gently, afraid to squeeze too hard and injure something bruised. "Daddy will be here as soon as Mrs. Weeks can find him, okay?"

Joey nodded, and snuggled against Molly's breast. "My momma," he said, clutched a handful of her shirt, and closed his eyes.

The doctor slid a practiced hand along the child's arm and let it slide gently across his wrist, pausing long enough to test the pulse rate of the child in Molly's arms.

"He should sleep," the doctor said. "We'd given him something for pain just before you arrived. He has no signs of concussion, no broken bones, only the cut on his forehead. But I recommend that you or your husband take Joey in to his pediatrician tomorrow morning and let him check him again, just to be safe."

Molly nodded. There was no use trying to explain to this man that she had no husband and no legal right to be holding this child. There was no way she was about to let go of Joey. And from the way Joey was holding onto her wet clothing, he had no intentions of letting go of her, either, even in sleep.

"What should I do?" Molly asked, aware that the feelings swamping her amounted to a lot more than overwhelming love for the child in her arms. "What if he wakes up in pain? Can he get his st.i.tches wet? Will the medicine you gave him make him nauseous? Can I-"

The doctor smiled. "Spoken like a true mother. The nurse will give you a set of instructions. Other than that, use your instincts, and"-he put a gentle hand on Molly's shoulder-"when you get home, get into something dry so you don't get sick, too."

Molly shuddered and sighed. "Yes, Doctor." She shifted Joey's limp body in her arms to get a firmer grip, then walked out of the ER, pausing long enough to stuff the sheet of paper the nurse handed her into her hip pocket.

"I'll get a wheelchair," the nurse said.

"I don't need one," Molly said. "I'm not hurt, and I'm not putting him down. I'll carry him."

The nurse frowned, and then relented as she saw the doctor nod his approval from behind Molly's back.

"Is he all right?" Lila asked, as Molly walked out with the child in her arms.

Molly nodded. "Just a cut. He has st.i.tches." Her mouth wobbled. "His first."

Lila sighed. "And from the looks of this little man, they won't be his last. He's one of the more daring children I have at the center."

"Just like his father," Molly said. "He dares a lot, too."

She couldn't help but remember her rescue from the bathtub and the unabashed way in which Joseph went about it.

"Did you drive?" Lila asked.

Molly nodded. "I'm across the street in the parking garage."

"We'll take the underground tunnel to get back to the parking garage. It'll save getting wet again, and I'll drive while you hold him. After I get you home, I'll call a cab."

"Thanks," Molly said. "I appreciate it."

Lila grinned wryly. "Don't thank me. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't showed up."

Molly looked down at the sleeping child in her arms, and resisted the urge to cry again. Her world had been rocked off its axis in a big way this afternoon. She wasn't certain what it all meant, but she had a feeling that things would never again be quite the same.

All the way across town, Molly clutched Joey tight against her breast and prayed that Joseph would somehow be waiting when they arrived. When they turned the corner and started down the street, her heart dropped. His car was nowhere in sight.

"I have a key to Joseph's house," she said. "Just park in his driveway. You can call a cab from here. I don't want to put Joey to bed at my house and then have Joseph have to move him again later."

"Good idea," Lila said, and then she c.o.c.ked her eyebrow as she parked Molly's car. "So...you have a key to his place, do you?"

Molly flushed, and stared down at the sleeping child in her arms. "It's not like you think. We're just friends."

Lila nodded sagely. "It's always good to have friends."

"You have my permission to shut up at any time," Molly said. "I can read your mind, and it's crawling in the gutter."

Lila wiggled her eyebrows. "There are worse places to be," she teased.

Molly looked up at the sky, thankful that there seemed to be an intermittent break in the rain. "Not today," she said. "If I don't miss my guess, the gutters-and the streets-will flood before this is over."

Lila made a run for the house, opened the door, then stepped aside as Molly hurried in with Joey, who was still asleep in her arms. The only reaction he made to being moved or disturbed was to tug harder at the thumb stuck inside his mouth.

And then Lila was gone, leaving Molly alone in Joseph's house with Joey clinging tightly to her blouse. She walked to his bedroom, thinking she would put him down in his own bed. But each time she tried to lay him down, he would whimper and cry.

"Okay, baby," she whispered, and feathered a gentle kiss across his forehead. "We'll do it your way."

She headed across the hall into Joseph's room, trying not to think of what she was about to do. Careful not to disturb Joey's restless sleep, she kicked off her shoes, crawled across Joseph's bed on her knees, and when she was in the middle of the king-size mattress, stretched out with Joey still clinging fast to the front of her blouse, and lay down with the child still clutched in her arms.

Joey shifted, aligning himself beside her while refusing to give up the portion of Molly's shirt he held tightly in his fist. He whimpered once from remembered pain and sucked once or twice on his thumb before his lips went slack.

Molly smiled. She could see the tiny tongue work occasionally against Joey's thumb, and managed to kiss the top of his head without disturbing him. They were both filthy and wet, but moving or changing clothes at this time was not an option.

Joey's breathing eased, his restlessness ceased, and before long, he and Molly were fast asleep in the middle of Joseph's bed.

The storm was moving in quickly. The contractor was shouting orders to the carpenters and the electricians to stop all work until the wind and rain had pa.s.sed. Lightning was a hazard on a construction job, and he had no intentions of endangering his men.

"You'd better get out of here while you can," he told Joseph, pointing to all the dry, barren land on which the new building was being erected. "If we get much rain, this place will look like a mud bog. I don't think that low-slung car of yours will go far in three or four feet of goop."

Joseph nodded. "We've about got all the kinks worked out of this latest problem, anyway," he said. "If the owner comes up with any more good ideas, let me know. We'll see what we can do to head him off."

The contractor grinned. He liked working with this laid-back man from the Deep South. Most architects would have been throwing a righteous fit at the thought of someone changing their drawings on a whim, which is what the owner had tried to do. It hadn't dawned on the owner that the wall he'd wanted to eliminate was there for a reason. It had taken Joseph and the contractor the better part of an hour to point out that if the wall went, the west roof probably would go next of its own accord.

Stress factors and building codes were not in the owner's vocabulary. He wanted wide, open s.p.a.ces. They compromised and settled on faux marble columns instead of the solid wall. The structure would still have the support it needed and the owner would have the feeling of open s.p.a.ce between the columns.

"Met the owner's missus yet?" the contractor asked.

Joseph shook his head.

"Just wait," the contractor promised. "Her favorite color is purple."

Joseph rolled his eyes and laughed. "Thank G.o.d I'm only the architect, not the interior decorator."

He headed for his car and had just pulled onto pavement when the downpour hit. Because of the rain, traffic was heavy and slow. It took him longer than normal to get back into town, and for some reason, the longer he drove, the more un-easy he became. He glanced at his watch, noting the time, and decided to swing by the office before going to day care to pick up Joey. It was only after he'd parked in the lot that he noticed his car phone was off.

For a moment, nerves skittered, and then he shrugged. Becoming a parent was making a real worrywart out of him, and he grinned at the thought of Joey. His son was a constant joy.

"Oh, Mr. Rossi!" Marjorie Weeks burst into tears as Joseph entered the office. "I called and called. But you left your beeper here, and your car phone doesn't work."

Joseph felt sick. His instincts hadn't been wrong after all. "What happened?" he asked.

"The day-care center called. Joey fell. They took him to Saint Anthony's and then..."

Joseph was gone. The door slammed shut behind him, but Marjorie could still hear the sounds of his footsteps running down the hall.

It took one phone call to the day-care center during the drive to the hospital to learn that his son had already been released. When Lila Forshee calmly explained that she'd called Molly when she couldn't reach him, a feeling of overwhelming relief made him shake. What would he have done without her? He made a quick adjustment in direction and headed toward home as he continued to grill Lila on Joey's condition.

"Is he all right?" Joseph asked, needing to know, yet afraid of the answer.

"Yes," Lila said. "I'm so sorry he got hurt. He fell off the slide. I saw it happening, but couldn't get there in time to catch him."

Joseph muttered under his breath as he switched lanes of traffic, trying not to curse in Lila's ear at the stupidity of the driver he'd just pa.s.sed.

"I'm the first to admit that things can happen so quickly you don't even see them coming." He could still remember his shock and fear the day Joey had wandered out of the house and his relief upon learning that Molly had found him.

"What were his injuries?" Joseph asked as guilt and dismay overwhelmed him. His son had been hurt and he'd had to make his first trip to a hospital without his daddy.

"He has three st.i.tches. Nothing else seems to have been injured, although Molly did tell me that the doctor suggested you take Joey to his pediatrician tomorrow for a thorough checkup."

Joseph nodded. "I'll be in touch," he said shortly, and hung up his car phone. He turned swiftly off of Sixty-third Street, anxious to get home.

When he turned into his driveway, he came to a stop only inches from the b.u.mper of Molly's car, then hit the ground running.

The house was quiet, too quiet. He ran through the rooms with his belly churning. Although every instinct he had made him want to shout his arrival, the same instinct told him not to make a sound.

And then he started down the hall toward his son's room, expecting to see Molly sitting beside Joey's bed or holding him in her arms. But the door to his room was ajar, and when he looked inside, it was obvious he had to look no farther. They were sound asleep, wrapped in each other's arms in the middle of his bed.

He froze on sight, inhaled sharply at the picture, and tried not to cry. But tears came anyway, and they were healing tears of relief.

Moving silently, he hurried into the room and then stood beside the bed, unable to do more than just look. The sight of drying blood on his son's clothes made him sick, as did the small white bandage on Joey's forehead. He saw tear tracks on the child's face and he saw much, much more. He saw the way Joey was clutching at Molly's shirt as if he'd never let go. And he saw the way Molly had cradled the toddler against her body, protecting him, even in her sleep.

He knelt, tracing a finger along the edge of Joey's hair, lifting it just enough to see the first edge of st.i.tches beneath the bandage. His hand shook, as did his breath.

Molly opened her eyes but didn't move. Looking into Joseph's pain, she smiled softly and then shook her head in answer to the unspoken question she could see on his face.

"He's okay," she said. "The doctor said so. I'm sorry we messed up your bed. He wouldn't turn me loose."

"h.e.l.l, I don't blame him."

Joseph's voice was low, barely above a whisper, but Molly heard him just the same. She tried to move, but Joey's hand clenched the fistful of her shirt that much tighter.

"Here, let me," Joseph said, and began to unwind his son's hand from Molly's clothing.

His knuckles brushed the underside of her breast more than once as he worked, and more than once, he leaned so close she imagined she heard his heart beat. Molly tried to ignore the increase of her own heartbeat, as well as the muscle that jerked in Joseph's cheek. But it was no use. He was too close and too much man to ignore.

Joey moaned in his sleep, and then whimpered as Joseph lifted him out of Molly's arms.

"I'll be right back," he said, and gently kissed his child's forehead as he carried him from the room.