Bringing Up Baby Read online

  As he put the truck into gear, he inclined his head toward the picnic basket. “Part of the surprise.”

  She smiled with a sweetness that burned her image into his mind. “I’m beginning to like this already.”

  “Ma’am,” he replied with a Texas twang as he reached behind him for a Stetson he’d brought for the occasion, “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

  Devon leaned back in the seat and turned her eyes to the road. He’d promised her a good time and nothing more, she reminded herself, and she shouldn’t read anything else into their situation. He’d made himself perfectly clear about what he expected in a wife, and she was even less qualified than Felicia to fill that role. She’d enjoy the time she could spend with him and not expect more. To assume their relationship could ever be anything other than just friendly wouldn’t be fair to either of them. She attempted to ignore the pang in her heart that that knowledge created.

  He tuned in to a country station on the radio, and his strong, slender fingers tapped the wheel in time with the music. He headed the pickup into the city, then turned toward the bay.

  “Do you dance?” he asked without taking his eyes from the road.

  “Not recently,” she hedged, ashamed to admit she hadn’t tripped the light fantastic since the senior prom. Tripped, that was the word, all right. She didn’t know whether to giggle or cry, remembering her two left feet with minds of their own.

  “Don’t worry,” he assured her with a crooked smile. “It’ll all come back as soon as you hear the music. You never forget. It’s like—”

  “Riding a bicycle? That’s a relief.” She endeavored to keep the skepticism from her voice. At age six, she’d given up learning to cycle after endless skinned knees and elbows and a broken wrist.

  “We’re here.” He swung the truck into a parking lot that overlooked the bay, where the sun plunged beneath the horizon like a lozenge of liquid fire. Cars jammed the area, and people streamed toward a grassy park beside the water. He hooked the picnic basket over one arm and offered her the other as she stepped down from the cab.

  She eyed the bandstand in the distance. “What’s happening here?”

  He grabbed a small cooler and a blanket from the truck bed and fell in step beside her as they followed the crowd. “A country fair.’’

  “In the middle of the city?”

  He drew in a deep breath as if testing the air. “That’s the beauty of it. You can smell the sawdust and cotton candy from here. We’ll find a spot near the bandstand and spread our picnic. Three of the hottest bands out of Nashville are playing tonight.”

  His enthusiasm infected her with a reckless exhilaration. “Sounds like fun.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He broke his stride and beamed at her. “I’ll make a wild woman of you yet.”

  His words struck her with a bolt of truth. Something about Colin O’Reilly reached deep into the core of her, filling her with an unrestrained joy and the desire to break the prim mold of existence her life with Aunt Bessie had forged. She’d had no experience with love and felt like a diver poised on the edge of a high cliff for a plunge that would send her either into deep, unfamiliar waters or smashing onto rocks.

  She fought against her powerful impulses, hanging back from the edge of love, afraid to commit to the leap needed to love him without reservation. “I thought you liked sedate domestic goddesses, not tigresses.”

  He spread the blanket across a grassy space close enough to hear the band, but far enough away to talk above the music. He settled cross-legged and reached out to pull her down beside him. “Domestic goddess by day, provocative temptress by night. A great character for a television series, don’t you think?”

  She lowered herself next to him, stretched her legs before her and leaned back on her elbows. She was tumbling off the precipice into love, whether she wanted to or not, and nothing could stop her. “What would you call this character?”

  He reached into the cooler for a couple of beers, twisted off the caps and handed her one. “How about Wonder Wife?”

  “Works for me.” She drank a long sip of the icy brew, hoping to hide the way her pulses pounded at his suggestion. “And who would play her?”

  “Interested in auditioning?” A significance she couldn’t decipher lay beneath his light tone.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding.” She turned her face into the breeze off the bay, hoping its coolness would draw the heat from her cheeks. “I’m doubly unqualified, deficient in both domesticity and seduction.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short.” He leaned toward her until his lips were inches from hers. “Maybe you have talents you haven’t discovered.”

  “Maybe I’m a realist.” His arms rested on either side of her, trapping her in his embrace. If he kept looking at her that way, she was going to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless right in front of the whole world. She had to extricate herself before she did or said something they’d both regret.

  “Colin.” She widened her eyes and gazed at him with what she hoped passed for innocence. “May I ask a question?”

  His head dipped closer, and his breath caressed her face. “Anything.”

  “What’s for supper? I’m starving.”

  His sharp bark of surprised laughter startled her, and she splashed her beer across the blanket. He sat back on his heels, pulled a checkered napkin from the picnic basket and mopped up the spill. “Do you know what I like about you, Devon?”

  She scrambled a safe distance across the blanket. “You’ve never said you did.”

  He stared at her, brows drawn in confusion, the napkin suspended in midair. “Did what?”

  The blush started at the roots of her hair and traveled to the neck of her tee. “Like me.”

  He dabbed again at the damp spot, studying it with a concentration that seemed forced. “No, I guess I never have said that I like you.”

  She longed to hear him speak the words, but he simply tossed the napkin aside, pulled the basket toward him and began extracting items from its depths.

  “What I like about you—” he handed her a plate “—is that you’re always surprising me.”

  Pleasure spread through her as she removed the lid from a container of potato salad and scooped a mound onto his plate. “Is that good?”

  “Being surprised?” He opened a box of fried chicken and selected a plump drumstick. “Sure as hell beats being bored to death.”

  She searched the box for a chicken breast, unable to meet his eyes. Her heart thumped at her own audacity as she framed her question. “Was Felicia full of surprises?”

  He tore into the drumstick with even white teeth and chewed with a reflective expression.

  When he didn’t answer, she fumbled with an apology. “Sorry, it’s none of my business—”

  “No, it’s okay.” His expression altered as if a thought had suddenly hit him. “I’m finally beginning to understand why my marriage failed.”

  She wasn’t sure she liked the direction of the conversation, so she chose her words carefully. “You said before that you and Felicia had different goals….”

  “We did.” He set his plate aside and stared out across the water undulating with a mesmerizing rhythm against the base of the nearby seawall. As a black skimmer swooped low over the water’s edge, the mango afterglow of sunset illuminated the strong planes of Colin’s face. “Until just a few minutes ago, I blamed Felicia for everything.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her heart plummeted at the implication that he still loved his former wife.

  “Just now, while I was talking with you, I made a discovery about myself, something that hit me like a blast out of nowhere.” His eyes shone golden in the sunset’s fading rays. “There’s a word for that kind of discovery—”

  “An epiphany?” Confusion raged within her when he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her palm.

  “That’s it.” He turned toward her with a somber look in his eyes. “For the first time, I saw ho
w my marriage went wrong—and that its failure was my fault.”

  Her spirits dropped further at his admission, and she steeled herself for the announcement that he would return to Felicia to try again.

  “Your talk of surprises made me understand,” he added.

  Her head swam as she attempted to follow his logic. “You’ve really lost me this time.”

  He shifted behind her on the blanket and drew her against his chest until they sat like nesting spoons, watching the sunset colors fade in the deepening twilight. “Felicia never surprised me. In retrospect, I can see she never changed. From the beginning, she gave every indication just how important her career was to her, how family and childzen would always come second.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know, I accused her of changing. But now I realize I was always projecting my expectations on her, viewing her as the person I wanted her to be, not who she really was.”

  He held her firmly around her midriff with his forearm pressed just beneath her heart, and she wondered if he gauged its frantic tempo. She leaned against the warm hardness of his chest. “Does this epiphany of yours mean you and Felicia will get back together?”

  “God, no.” His words exploded in her right ear as he pressed his face against her hair. “Don’t you see? Now that the bitterness is gone, I’m free.”

  She twisted in his arms to face him. “Free?”

  He took her face between his palms and emotion swelled inside her. “Free to love again.”

  He kissed her deeply until a burst of applause drew them apart in embarrassment. She laughed with him as they realized the ovation was not for them, but the band that had completed its first number on the amphitheater stage.

  “Come on.” He rose to his feet and pulled her up beside him. “Let’s join the group down front for some boot-scootin’ boogying.”

  The evening passed in a blur of music and magic. Beneath the dark canopy strewn with stars, Devon danced, following Colin’s easy lead as if she’d Texastwo-stepped all her life. Later, along the arcade of booths assembled for the weekend fair, they played games and stuffed themselves with sticky cotton candy and sugary bear claws.

  “How about having our fortunes told?” Colin asked as they worked their way back through the sawdust aisles toward the parking lot.

  “Try your skill at target shooting,” a nearby barker called from his booth. “Win a prize for the little lady.”

  “Should I?” Colin asked.

  “Maybe I should get back to Amanda.” As perfect as the evening had been, she had registered the child’s absence as a small empty space in her heart.

  “This won’t take but a minute.” Colin peeled a few dollars from his wallet and accepted a pellet gun from the proprietor with a pockmarked face.

  “Three hits inside the center ring and any prize in the house is yours,” the man promised.

  Colin extended the gun in his right hand and rested the butt in the palm of his left. With expert precision, he placed the first two shots in the center ring.

  “Colin O’Reilly!” a voice behind her exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in eons.”

  Colin flinched, missing his last shot. He returned the gun to its owner and turned to face the woman who had ruined his aim. “Lisa Warner, isn’t it?”

  The plump young woman with flaming red hair and a liberal dusting of freckles smiled and gestured to the miniature reproduction of herself who clung to her hand. “I’m Lisa Paris now, and this is my daughter, Erin.”

  He smiled at the little girl before returning his attention to her mother. “Last time I saw you was high school graduation.”

  Lisa groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m already feeling ancient with three kids. The boys are with their father, riding bumper cars.”

  At Devon’s discreet cough, he turned and pulled her arm through his. “This is Devon—”

  “Nice to meet you,” Devon blurted with a quickness that startled him.

  Lisa’s glance was friendly but curious. “I’d heard Colin was married. So you’re the lucky woman.”

  “No—” The swift jab of Devon’s elbow in his ribs interrupted him.

  “No?” Lisa’s eyes glimmered with interest.

  “No,” he improvised, “I’m the lucky one. It’s been nice seeing you again, Lisa.”

  Lisa ignored his effort at dismissal. “Do you have children?”

  “No—” he began, but Devon’s elbow slammed his rib cage again.

  “Not children,” she smiled sweetly. “Just one little girl, Amanda. She’s six months old.”

  “They’re so precious at that age.” Lisa looked ready to launch into a discourse on the attributes of babies, but the toddler yanked on her hand.

  “Go potty, Mama,” the little girl whined.

  Lisa swung around, searching the midway.

  Devon pointed toward the bandstand. “Rest rooms are over there.”

  “Thanks.” Lisa scooped up the girl and headed off at a trot, calling over her shoulder. “We should all get together sometime.”

  As soon as Lisa had cleared out of earshot, Colin turned on the woman beside him. A shadow of amusement flitted across her face, but she said nothing.

  “What the hell was that all about?” he asked.

  She stood her ground, unblinking in the face of his disapproval. “We have a deal, remember?”

  “My deal was for the interview, period.” He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans to keep from strangling her. His sense of being manipulated brought back all his bad memories of a marriage gone sour. “I didn’t agree to play hubby for the duration.”

  “Nobody asked you to,” she snapped. “Just do your part until the interview has aired—and don’t blow my cover in the meantime. That’s all I ask.”

  “All? That’s a mighty tall order.”

  “If you’re not up to it, tell me now. Don’t back out on me at the last minute.” Her eyes flashed and her jaw froze with determination.

  For two cents he’d walk away and leave her standing there to find someone else to help save her precious career and honor her contract with her bloody syndicate.

  She turned her back on him, jerked a fistful of dollars from her jeans and plunked them down before the pock-faced man. “My turn.”

  She grabbed the pellet gun, addressed the target and pulled off three quick shots, all dead center.

  Colin’s jaw gaped. “Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

  She returned the gun and thrust her chin in the air. “Aunt Bessie taught me.”

  “Hey, mister,” the carny taunted him, “ain’t you gonna claim the prize your girlfriend won for you?”

  God, she was one plucky woman. No wonder his father was so fond of her. He pointed to a huge pink teddy bear. “This isn’t my girlfriend,” he said with dignity. “She’s my wife. And I’ll take the stuffed animal for our daughter.”

  Her bead snapped up and her hazel eyes misted with tears. “Thank you.”

  He tucked the huge bear under one arm and threw his other around her shoulders. Devon Clarke was one surprise after another, and he wondered how many more she’d spring on him before their little charade had run its course.

  “Come on, Mrs. O’Reilly, I’m taking you home.”

  Chapter Ten

  A sense of family is very important to children. It gives them not only a feeling of security and belonging but helps establish their identities and provides an anchor in an ever-changing world.

  Amanda Donovan, Bringing Up Baby

  “You’re cutting this awfully close,” Leona said.

  Devon, dressed only in bustier and panties, glanced at her agent in the mirror and applied her makeup. “It’s over two hours until sunset. I have plenty of time.”

  Leona leaned back on her hands on the bed, spread her long, gauzy skirt, a tropical print of muted pinks, and adjusted her off-the-shoulder blouse of matching hot pink. Disks the color of watermelon pulp dangled from her ears.

&nb
sp; Devon suppressed a smile, remembering how she’d instructed her agent simply to wear pink for the faux wedding, forgetting Leona’s inclination toward the flamboyant.

  Leona straightened the pink hibiscus tucked behind her ear. “I’m not talking about the wedding, cupcake. I’m referring to the interview. Sara Davis will be here in five days.”

  Devon dusted her face lightly with a transparent powder, rose from her dressing table and pointed an index finger skyward. “Blame the Man Upstairs for the delay. I hadn’t planned on a tropical storm canceling our beachfront ceremony last weekend.”

  “With the ceremony tonight, will the video be ready for Sara’s interview?” Leona asked.

  “Relax. The videographer promised there’d be days to spare.”

  “I’ll relax,” the older woman muttered, “after this interview’s been taped and aired. One false step anywhere along the way and we both could lose our jobs.”

  Devon sighed and cleaned her hands on a tissue. “I don’t want to jeopardize your job—or mine—but I’m more worried about Amanda.”

  Leona’s scrutinizing gaze burned between her shoulder blades. “You’ve really fallen for the little angel, haven’t you?”

  She nodded. “Big mistake. Giving her up will be agony, but it’s the best thing. My attorney is looking for adoptive parents.”

  “Ever consider keeping her?” Leona asked with what seemed deliberate casualness.

  Devon picked up Aunt Bessie’s silver-backed brush and yanked it through her hair, hoping to drive away the hurt in her heart with the painful attack on her unruly curls. “In my dreams. But I’m not equipped to be a parent.”

  “Nonsense.” Leona scooted off the bed and retrieved the bridal gown hanging over the closet door. “All you need is love.”

  Devon grinned at her agent and friend. “You’re showing your age. Isn’t that the title of an old Beatles bit?”

  “Uh-huh, but that doesn’t make it any less true.” Leona removed the dress from its hanger and held it high for Devon to slip over her head.

  “Love is definitely needed—but also a father and family and parenting skills,” Devon mumbled through the folds of fabric. “I love Amanda so much, I want her to have it all, even if that means I’ll never see her again.”