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earlier. Anne tried to balance a wiggling Emilie while digging for a bottle of juice in the diaper bag. The juice remained elusive.
    â€œHere, let me hold her.” Before she could object, Mitch took the baby from her. He bounced Emilie on his knees, rumpling the knife-sharp crease, his strong hands supporting the baby’s back.
    The ache between Anne’s shoulder blades eased. She watched Mitch with the baby, realizing the ache had just shifted location to her heart. If Mitch was Emilie’s father…
    She bent over the diaper bag to hide the tears that clouded her eyes. Ridiculous to feel them. Nothing had changed. She blinked rapidly and fished the juice bottle out.
    â€œI’ll take her now.” She flipped the cap off and dropped it in the bag.
    Mitch shook his head and reached for the bottle. “Give yourself a break for a few minutes. I can manage this.”
    She leaned back, watching as he shifted Emilie’s position and plopped the nipple into her mouth.
    â€œYou didn’t learn that in…the Army, was it?”
    He nodded. “Military Police. Matter of fact, I did. A couple of my buddies had families.”
    She thought she heard a note of censure in his voice. “You have something against that?”
    His eyes met hers, startled, and then he shrugged. “Up to them. I just never figured family mixed very well with military police work.”
    Emilie snuggled against him, fingers curling and uncurling on the bottle, eyes beginning to droop.
    â€œI see you hung around enough to learn how to give a bottle.”
    His face relaxed in a smile. The effect was startling, warming his whole countenance and demanding an answering smile she couldn’t suppress.
    â€œNot too difficult. Besides, I could always give the babies back if they got fussy.”
    â€œOf course.”
    Something hardened in her at the words. Thethree of them might look, to the casual observer, like a family. That observer couldn’t begin to guess how skewed that impression was.
    Emilie had fallen asleep in Mitch’s arms by the time Brett pushed through the door, a clipboard in his hand. Anne inhaled sharply and saw Mitch’s already erect posture stiffen even more.
    â€œWell?” Mitch’s voice rasped. “What’s the verdict?”
    Brett’s green eyes were troubled. “Skipping all the technical details, the bottom line is the tests don’t exclude you, Mitch. Your blood type means you could possibly be the father.”
    â€œMe and a million other guys,” he snapped.
    Anne’s mouth tightened. He’d obviously been hoping against hope he hadn’t been caught. Maybe now he’d give up this pose of innocence and sign the papers. But she had to show him she’d keep pressing.
    â€œAbout the DNA test—” she pinned Brett with her gaze “—I’d like it sent to McKay Labs. I’ve dealt with them before. And I want a copy of the results sent directly to me.”
    Brett blinked. “That’ll need Mitch’s permission.”
    â€œYou’ve got it.” Mitch moved, and Emilie woke. Her whimper quickly turned into a full-fledged cry.
    Brett looked ready to escape. “Expect the results in three to four weeks, then.”
    Anne nodded goodbye, trying to reach for the diaper bag and her crying child at the same time. “Let me have her.”
    Mitch handed over the baby.
    â€œThere, sweetheart, it’s all right.” She rocked the baby against her, but Emilie was beyond comforting. She reared back in Anne’s arms, wails increasing.
    Mitch picked up the diaper bag. “You can’t drive home alone with her in that state.” He took her arm. “Come on. I’ll drive you and then call a cab.”
    She wanted to protest, but Emilie’s sobs shattered her will. She nodded, letting him guide her from the room.
    The baby’s wails seemed to fry Mitch’s brain as he followed