Bringing Up Baby Page 10

  Colin relaxed, hugged Devon to him, then extended his hand to the policeman. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” The cop pushed the stroller toward Colin. “I guess that settles it, but I’ll need your names and addresses for my report.”

  When the police and security people left, the crowd dispersed.

  “I didn’t leave her—” Devon began, fearful of the return of his censure.

  “It’s okay,” Colin broke in. “We’ll talk about it later. Are you finished here?”

  She shook her head. “I barely had a chance to look around before Amanda disappeared. Maybe I’d better take her home and get a sitter before I try shopping again.”

  Colin reached for Amanda and settled her easily into the crook of his arm. “I’ll look after the kid. No need for you to waste a shopping trip.”

  She contemplated calling off the outing, but decided concentrating on wedding preparations might calm her shattered nerves. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “I’m being well compensated.” He had supped his sunglasses on, and she couldn’t read his expression or the meaning of his ambiguous reply.

  Amanda’s disappearance had left her badly shaken, and she turned her attention with difficulty to the dress the clerk had selected. Somehow her career and the deception involved in protecting it seemed unimportant in light of this latest near disaster. The sooner she could place the child in a safe home, the better.

  When she carried the filmy dress into the fitting room and slipped it on, the reflection in the mirror shocked her. Except for her scarf and sun hat, she looked like a real bride. As she studied her image in the three-way mirror and considered what might have been, she heaved a frustrated sigh.

  A make-believe wedding was all she’d ever have, all she’d ever allow. If growing up with Aunt Bessie had taught her little about parenting, it had instructed her even less about the bond between a man and a woman. Although she’d enjoyed dating in high school, she’d never allowed herself to get serious over anyone. Often she’d read that children of divorced parents were more likely to experience divorce themselves. What chance would she have at marital success when she’d never observed any kind of marriage firsthand, not even a rocky one?

  In matters of the heart, her grandmother’s journals offered little help. Romantically disadvantaged, that’s what she was, and a real wedding was definitely not in her future. If she’d had doubts before about her competence in the field of love, her constant confrontations with Colin had proved her ineptness at relating to a man.

  She thrust away memories of his kiss and the lightness of his embrace as she smoothed the flattering lines of the dress across her hips and twirled the flared skirt. Might as well enjoy the charade, because playacting was as good as it would get. The only thing Bessie had taught her well was how to succeed as an old maid. Once the interview was finished and Amanda adopted, Colin would leave and her simple life could return to normal.

  Normal. Lonely and empty.

  She turned a deaf ear to her heart’s objections and nodded approval when the clerk suggested white espadrilles with satin laces, perfect for walking through the sand, and a wreath of white silk daisies with satin streamers for her hair.

  “Is that the groom?” The teenage clerk gestured toward Colin as Devon paid for her purchases.

  When Devon nodded, the clerk sighed. “Lucky girl.”

  Devon forced a smile in reply. She’d been lucky all right these past few days—and all her luck had been bad.

  “Ready to go?” Colin asked. He’d strapped a sleepy Amanda back into her stroller, and when the clerk handed over the packages, he tucked them under his arms and followed Devon, who pushed the stroller out of the store into the mall.

  Uneasy, Devon scrutinized each shopper who came close to Amanda, wondering if the person who had whisked her away had followed them. Even Colin’s reassuring presence didn’t calm her suspicions.

  He seemed to read her thoughts. “You’re tired and jumpy, and probably hungry, too. I know just what you need.”

  Fifteen minutes later, under the shade of an umbrella at a waterfront cafe, she slid into a seat at a table where the warm, salt-laden breeze and water lapping softly against pier pilings siphoned off her tension. Amanda, fed and diapered by Colin, slept in her carrier in the adjoining chair.

  When the waitress appeared, Devon allowed Colin to order for her and enjoyed the unaccustomed pleasure of having someone else take charge.

  After the waitress had served them tall glasses of iced tea with lime wedges, Colin reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “Want to talk about it?”

  “About what?” Jolted by the surge of emotion created by his touch, she pulled her hand away.

  “What happened at the mall. I’m a good listener,” he added with a modest grin.

  He pushed his chair back from the table and sat with one booted ankle propped on his knee while he stared across the bay toward the barrier islands, shimmering green against the horizon. He’d hooked his sunglasses in his shirt pocket, and his unprotected eyes reflected the brilliant emerald of the water like polished pewter. Strength and a bolstering calm emanated from him, and for the first time since Amanda had disappeared in the store, Devon’s nerves quieted.

  “What do you think it all means?” she asked.

  He rubbed the strong line of his jaw thoughtfully. “Whatever it is, it’s tied up with the baby.”

  “But none of this makes sense,” she insisted. “Whoever set the fire apparently intended more smoke than heat. And the same person probably caused my car to take off with Amanda in it.”

  “And today in the store?”

  Her eyes widened at the implication. “If the same person is involved, I’m being followed.”

  “But why? If someone wants to take the baby, he— or she—could have grabbed Amanda that day you left her in the car. Why wait to grab her in a crowded mall?”

  “Maybe somebody just wants to scare me.” She gave a nervous laugh. “If that’s the case, they’re doing a heck of a job.”

  “Which raises another question. Why is this person intimidating you?”

  She shrugged. “If they’re hoping I’ll give up the baby, I’m way ahead of them. I plan to put Amanda up for adoption as soon as possible.”

  Disgust flickered across his face. “You’ll wait until after your important interview, of course.”

  She longed to explain that adoption was the best thing for the child, providing her with two parents and maybe brothers and sisters, but most of all, with someone competent to care for her. Yet if she confessed how inadequate she felt to raise a baby, she feared he’d be more repulsed than ever.

  His disgust gave way to thought fulness. “You said her parents are dead. Are there any relatives who’d want her enough to terrorize you into giving her up?”

  She nodded. “Ernest Potts, Amanda’s father’s half brother. Potts, according to the attorney, is dishonest, and Amanda’s father insisted the child be kept away from him.”

  His gaze strayed to the child, asleep in the shade, and his features softened. “I can understand why he’d want her. She’s such a sweetheart.”

  “If it was Potts, why didn’t he take her today when he had the chance? Why leave her in the ladies’ lounge?”

  His gaze returned to her and his expression hardened once more. “Maybe he didn’t have enough time before security was alerted. He’d never have made it out of the mall with her.”

  Her heart wrenched with an amazing pain at the thought of losing little Amanda. She’d have to start adoption proceedings soon, or giving her up would be too difficult.

  For the first time, she entertained the idea of raising the child herself. Images of Amanda’s first steps, her first day at school, her first bike, flitted through her mind. She repressed the thoughts quickly. Such a situation would be a repeat of her solitary life with Aunt Bessie, and the helpless orphan deserved more.

  Colin folded his arms on the tabl
e and leaned to ward her. “The restoration supervisor says you can move back in tomorrow. I’ll install a home security system, if you like.”

  She studied the corded muscles of his arms beneath the rolled sleeves of his denim shirt, the resolute set of his square jaw, the steely look in his gray eyes. With such a man, any woman would feel safe, protected. But in her rent-a-husband world, she’d have to settle for security of the electronic kind.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Amanda and I will be much safer with a central-station alarm.”

  The sun’s angle had shifted while they talked, and Colin adjusted the umbrella to shade Amanda. Again his expression mellowed at the sight of the child.

  “You love kids, don’t you?” she observed.

  “Not so loud. You’ll ruin my macho image.” He spoke with a light tone, but she could see the pain in his eyes.

  Felicia must have hurt him badly.

  “I forgot about your wife.” She pressed her palm to her forehead as the new complication struck her. “What if she makes trouble after she sees the interview?”

  “Ex-wife,” he countered with a bitter edge. “Don’t worry. Felicia will be too concerned about any possible stain on her own career to raise questions about yours.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s a real-estate broker, and a very successful one, I might add.” His words rang like the sharp, cold clink of the ice he swirled in his glass. “She left me so she could spend more time selling houses to wealthy clients.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was for the best.”

  “Then why are you so angry?” Her question popped out like a reflex. “Forgive me. That’s none of my business.”

  He hesitated, as if deciding whether to answer. “Dad’s encouraged me to talk about it, to get it off my chest. He says I hold things in and let them fester.’

  He paused while the waitress placed plates of chicken salad before them.

  “Felicia’s very pretty,” she said, remembering the snapshot on the kitchen bulletin board and the ice blue eyes.

  “Yes, she is,” he replied with a swiftness that sent a twinge of jealousy through her. “We met at an exhibition of homes I’d designed for a Tallahassee builder. Felicia’s agency was handling sales.”

  “So you had a lot in common.”

  “I thought we did. I was wrong.” He shoved his plate away as if he’d lost his appetite. “She swore she was interested in a home and family, but she changed her tune after our marriage. Glitz and glamour excited her more than family, and children would only clutter her decorated interiors and soil her designer clothes.”

  No wonder he looked at Amanda with longing eyes. He yearned for the kind of family life his father and mother had enjoyed, but he’d chosen the wrong woman to help him fulfill his dream. And no wonder he seemed so displeased with Devon. Between her newspaper career and her refusal to keep Amanda, she was too much like Felicia.

  “You’re young,” she said with a sinking heart, realizing how much she wished she could be the kind of woman he sought “There must be thousands of women who want a home and family and would jump at the chance to marry you.”

  “It’s always been just my luck to fall in love with the wrong woman.”

  She paused as she reached for her glass. At first she thought he’d been referring to Felicia, but his tortured look as he scrutinized her across the table made her wonder what he was realty thinking behind the hurt in his eyes. The possibility that Colin might care for her created a warm rush of pleasure, succeeded by panic.

  How did she get herself into such a mess? She was up to her eyeballs in a deception that would be aired on national television, she’d become the totally inept guardian of a baby, and now she was falling in love, a state about which she knew even less than she did about raising children.

  She dabbed her lips with her napkin and threw Colin a shaky smile. She’d been cursed, as the Chinese proverb said, by living in interesting times.

  COLN HALTED ON the threshold of the family room, looking for Devon. Whoever had started the fire in her house, tampered with her car and then taken Amanda had put her and the baby through a harrowing ordeal, but the stress hadn’t dampened Devon’s pluck or her energy. Without a word of complaint, she’d moved back into her restored house as if nothing had happened. Several times he’d wanted to apologize for doubting her about the fire and unattended car, but through the long, bitter years with Felicia, he had become too accustomed to swallowing his responses, and his apology remained unspoken.

  He spotted Devon as she scooted on her stomach from behind the sofa and crawled into a corner beneath a table. The sway of her small, rounded bottom activated a searing heat deep inside him. But his response was more than physical. He craved to shield her from all unpleasantness, to spend as much time as he could with this appealing woman who never failed to surprise him, like now, crawling beneath the furniture like some domestic commando.

  “Did you lose something?” he asked.

  Startled by his voice, she jumped up and banged her head against the table. Holding her brow with one hand, she scuttled backward and stood, straightening her shirttail over crisp white shorts.

  “I’m getting ready to babyproof,” she said.

  He laughed. “As an architect, I know something about making a house safe for children, but I can’t see how sliding around on your stomach helps.”

  Her cheeks flushed an alluring pink. “Gramma Donovan—”

  “I might have known.” He rolled his eyes and grinned. “What does the maven of motherhood have to say on the subject?”

  “Just good common sense,” she answered in a miffed tone. “She recommends getting on the baby’s level to check for hazards. It’s a whole new perspective down there. You should try it sometime.”

  Chastised, he yielded to her logic. “Just let me know what you want done beyond the usual socket protectors and cabinet locks, and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks.” She inspected the front of her clothes. “The restorers did a great job. Not a trace of soot in the entire house.”

  “I’ve heard of white-glove inspections, but a fullbody sweep is new to me.” He wrenched his gaze from her firm breasts, the slender waist that swelled into sensuous hips, her lithe, long legs and bare feet. “Is Amanda asleep?”

  “Finally. She’s such a curious little thing, afraid if she goes to sleep, she’ll miss something.” She pointed to the monitor on the coffee table. “Those are great, aren’t they? I don’t have to keep running upstairs to see if she’s awake.”

  “Are you sure it’s working?”

  “I heard her babbling to herself before she drifted off to sleep.” She retreated with a natural grace into the kitchen and poured coffee into mugs. “Did you get Mike settled at home?”

  “He went to bed right after supper. He sends his thanks for your offer to stay here, but says he’s more comfortable in his own bed. And he insists he’s coming here to work in the morning.”

  “Work? Didn’t the doctor tell him to take it easy?”

  She handed him a mug and folded her long legs into the corner of the sofa opposite him. Concern etched her face, and he couldn’t help comparing her to Felicia again. His ex-wife would have whined about the delay in remodeling, but the state of Mike’s health was Devon’s chief concern.

  “I spoke with Doc Packard,” he said. “He believes light work will be the best thing for Dad—as long as there’s no heavy lifting. It will occupy his mind and keep him from worrying about his heart.”

  “It’ll be good to have him here. I’ve missed him.” She smiled with a genuineness that grazed his heart.

  “Dad also insists on being best man at the wedding next week.” He anticipated the usual annoyance that bubbled up whenever he considered the deception of the wedding and interview, but in its place came a sweet sadness that their relationship was only sham.

  “Everything’s ready.” She ticked the items off on her finge
rs. “Photographer, caterer, guests, Leona, who’ll serve as bridesmaid, and Jake Blalock, my old editor, who’ll pose as the minister.”

  “Then why do you look so uneasy?” He scooted closer and traced the furrow between her brows with his index finger.

  She shivered at his question. “Murphy’s Law, I guess. The more I consider this entire scheme, the more possibilities for disaster I see.”

  Unable to stop himself, he reached out and stroked her red-gold curls, glossy as silk beneath his palm. “I warned you of the pitfalls from the first.”

  “I know.” Her breathless voice was barely audible. “I wish I could call the whole thing off.”

  He reached deep inside himself in an attempt to resurrect his former anger and disdain, but all he found was tenderness. He slid his hand down to the back of her neck and felt her warmth and delicacy against his flesh.

  “It’s too late now.” His words rang with double meaning.

  She gazed up at him, hazel eyes wide and clear, lips slightly parted. She could save him from himself by pulling away, but she remained in his grasp, unmoving.

  He brushed his lips across hers, and she remained still, as if waiting. When he pulled back and caught the light shining in her eyes, he knew he was doomed. He wrapped his arms around her, drew her close and kissed her the way he’d wanted to ever since he’d first seen her, standing firm in spite of her fear, wearing a coffee-soaked T-shirt and demanding to know who he was.

  Devon gasped with pleasure. Nothing in Gramma’s journal or her platonic dates had prepared her for such a kiss. With his hand against the small of her back, he drew her to him, and the heat of his powerful body radiated through hers. His lips were firm yet soft, and generated waves of pleasure to her very core.

  Her breath mingled with his, and she pressed against him, wanting more, opening her lips to his deepening kiss. Every nerve tingled with awareness of the hard breadth of his chest, the strong line of his thigh snug against her own.

  When he lifted his lips from hers and pulled her head into the hollow of his throat, she snuggled deeper into his embrace with a tremor of satisfaction.