Bailey's Irish Dream by DEBBY CONRAD

trouble.”
    “I think you should ask your daughter.”
    Doyle kept his eyes trained on Quinn as he paced the room.  “I’m asking you .”
    Sighing, Quinn looked out from beneath his hand, testing his right eye.  He still saw double.
    Doyle stopped in front of the desk and scowled at Quinn.  “She offered you money, didn’t she?”
    The way he’d said it made Quinn feel like the lowest of scumbags, so he chose not to answer.
    “I knew it!  She didn’t want her mother and me to know that Stanley had called off the wedding.  Right?  I kept waiting for her to call and tell us.  I should have known she’d try to spare our feelings somehow, but I never thought she’d go this far.”
    Quinn knitted his brows together.  “How did you know Davenport had called off the wedding?” he asked, even as the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together.  Then the truth hit him full force.  “You paid him off, didn’t you?”
    Doyle looked away guiltily. 
    “You paid Davenport not to marry your daughter?” Quinn asked, watching the man in utter disbelief.  “What kind of man would do something like that?”
    “A man who cares about his daughter’s happiness.  Those guys weren’t right for Bailey.”
    “You bought off the others too!”   Quinn shook his head.  “You’re incredible.”
    “Don’t look at me like I’m despicable after what you did.  You’re certainly no saint.”
    “What are you talking about?  I told Bailey last night I didn’t want her money.  In fact,” he said, opening his desk drawer and finding the check Bailey had given him, “here’s the down payment she gave me.”  Quinn tore the ten-thousand-dollar check in small pieces and tossed them in the trash can beside his desk.
    “How much did she offer you?” Doyle asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 
    “It was supposed to be a loan.”
    “How much?” he persisted.
    Quinn’s voice dropped to a low volume.  “One hundred thousand,” he said, feeling ashamed of himself.
    “One hundred thousand!”  Doyle dropped his hands to his sides, clenched his fists and started pacing again.  “Now, that makes me wonder what you’re up to.  No man in his right mind is going to give up that kind of money.”
    “I’m not up to anything, and I don’t want her money.  I’ll find another way to get the money I need.”
    “Yeah, and I believe in Santa Claus too.”  Quinn didn’t bother to argue with the man.  “Just tell me one thing, whatever the hell your name is.  Were you lying about that girl Bambi and those four kids you got running around?”
    “What do you think?”  How could anyone actually believe he’d married a sixteen-year-old girl?  Or that he’d had four kids and had conveniently forgotten about them.  Jesus.  The thought made him sick inside.  When he’d lied about those things last night, he’d felt sick too.  But that hadn’t stopped him from trying to make the Maguires believe his lies.
    “I think you were pulling my leg.  But right now all I care about is Bailey.  And the baby.”
    “There is no baby,” he said with fearful clarity.  “According to Bailey, Mrs. Maguire imagined it.  And besides, Bailey already told her mother it wasn’t true.”  Or had she? he wondered.
    “Don’t play stupid with me, mister.  I know that’s what you two were arguing about last night in the drive.”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  But he was afraid he was going to find out. 
    “Bailey’s definitely pregnant.  And you’re the father.  Now I want to know what you intend to do about that.”
    The news hit him in the gut as if he’d been shot with a cannonball.  “Bailey’s pregnant?”  He’d barely been able to say the words aloud.  Quinn shook his head in denial.  “You’re sure?  Did she tell you that?”
    “Yeah, she told me.  She told me and her mother right after you left last night.” 
    Quinn held his hand out in front of him and