Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (42 page)

“It's easier that way,” she said, lying.

In the darkness, his eyes narrowed. “Just what kind of woman are you?”

She sucked in her breath, ragged though it was. “What kind of woman am I?” she repeated, incredulous. “I'm a woman who doesn't stand around waiting for a man to trip all over himself to open her car door, a woman who doesn't believe in love at first sight, a woman who would someday like a child but doesn't necessarily need a man, and a woman who expects any man she meets to pull his own weight,” she managed to spit out, though she was all too aware of the feel of his hands against her skin and the tantalizing passion flaring in his eyes.

His grin slashed white in the darkness, and his hand was tight over her wrist. A chuckle deep and rumbling erupted from him. “Are you really so tough?”

“Tough enough,” she replied, tilting her chin
defiantly, though inside, she quivered. Not that she'd let him know. She didn't want Dallas to suspect any weakness. She twisted in his arms, afraid that if he saw into her eyes, he'd read her hesitation. Together, while the river flowed on in bright glimmers of silver moonlight, they stared at the water, and Chandra couldn't help feeling as if they were the only man and woman on earth.

“Come on,” she finally said, afraid this intimacy would only make spending the night together more difficult. She drew her hand from his and, reluctantly, he let her go. “I'm starved.”

They barbecued steaks and warmed bread, boiled potatoes and stir-fried fresh vegetables. Conversation was minimal. After dinner, they sat near the tents, the lanterns glowing in the wilderness and attracting insects. The smell and sound of the river filled the night, and Chandra felt more at peace than she had in a long, long while. There was something comforting about being with Dallas, something warm and homelike. And yet, there was another side to him, as well, the volatile, passionate side that kept her on edge. They drank coffee slowly, sitting apart, not daring to touch.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at the man, whom she'd met as a doctor for J.D., but now knew as…well, not a friend…but more than an acquaintance.
And possibly a lover?
her mind teased, but she steadfastly shoved that absurd thought into a corner of her mind. Though she wanted to think of him as a man, she forced herself back to the issue at hand. She had more important things to think about.

“How long will Social Services wait until they place the baby?” she asked, sipping from her cup.

“As soon as we release him from the hospital. Probably in a day or two.”

“That soon?” Chandra's heart took a nosedive. She'd have to work fast.

“He can't stay in the hospital forever.” Dallas reached for the coffeepot, still warm on the camp stove, and, holding the enamel pot aloft, silently asked if she'd like more.

Shaking her head, Chandra bit her lower lip, her mind racing in circles. If no one claimed the baby, she'd try to adopt him. Why not? Tomorrow, when she returned home, she'd call her lawyer, have all the necessary applications filled out, do whatever she had to do, but, damn it, she intended to make a bid for the baby….

As if he saw the wheels turning in her mind, Dallas said, “What's on your mind, Chandra? You've been bringing up the baby all day.” He stretched out on a sleeping bag and levered up on one elbow while his eyes, cast silver by the soft shafts of light from the moon, centered on her.

Could she trust him? She needed a friend, an ally, but Dr. O'Rourke was an unlikely choice. Licking her lip nervously, she decided to gamble. “I hope to adopt him,” she admitted, holding his gaze.

“If no one claims him.”

“If J.D.'s—” she saw the doctor's bushy eyebrows elevate a notch “—that's what I call him. You know, for John Doe.” When he nodded, she continued. “If J.D.'s mother shows up, she'll have to prove to me that she's fit. What kind of woman would leave a baby in a barn?”

“A desperate one?”

“But why not stick around? Or knock on my door? I would've helped her, taken her and the child to the hospital,” Chandra said, shaking her head and turning her attention back to the few swallows of coffee left in her cup. “Oh, no, there's no reason, no good reason, to leave a baby to die.”

Dallas finished his coffee. “The baby didn't die,” he pointed out. “Maybe the mother was in an abusive
situation. Maybe she was trying to protect the child. The reason she didn't show her face is that she doesn't want her husband or boyfriend or whoever to show up, claim the baby, then perhaps hurt him or her. She could be on the run for a good reason.”

“There are agencies—”

“Not enough.”

Chandra glanced up at Dallas and noticed the serious lines deepening along his eyes and mouth. So there was a humanitarian side to Dr. O'Rourke. The man had many layers, Chandra decided, and she would all too willingly unravel each and every one to get a glimpse of the real man hidden beneath his cold, professional facade.

“I work in E.R. We see a lot of ‘accidents' to children and women,” he added, his voice deep and grim. “You don't know that the boy's mother wasn't a woman who, given her fear and limited knowledge, did the best she could.”

“Leaving a baby alone and defenseless is never the best. That woman—whoever she is—had other options. She didn't have to take the coward's way out. She could have taken that baby with her wherever she was running.”

“And what if she had a couple of other kids?” He sighed and threw the dregs of his coffee into the woods. “There's no reason to argue this. We don't know the woman's motives, but I think there's a chance the mother will surface, and when she does, she'll want her baby back.”

Chandra knew he was right, and when her gaze met his eyes, she noticed a trace of sadness in their steely depths. Her heart grew suddenly cold.

“Just don't get too attached to…J.D…. Don't be giving him names and thinking about swaddling him in blankets and knitting little blue booties. You could get hurt.”

“It's a chance I'll have to take.”

Dallas drew one knee up and leaned over it. His face,
illuminated by the fire, was serious as he studied the crackling flames. “There are other ways to become a mother—easier ways. Ways that will ensure that no one takes the child away from you.”

She snorted. “Most of those ways involve a man.” She stared boldly across the short space separating them, and asked, “Are you applying for the job?”

He returned her gaze for a long, tense moment, and Chandra wished she could call back the words, said too quickly. He probably thought she was seriously propositioning him.

“I just thought you could use some friendly advice,” he finally said.

Chandra felt a rush of warmth for the man. “Thanks.”

“You're still going to go through with it, aren't you?” When she didn't reply, he continued, “You know, you might still need a man. The system still likes to place children in homes where there is a role model for each parent. And, no, since you asked a little earlier, I don't go around fathering children.” An emotion akin to anger pinched the corners of his mouth. “Call me old-fashioned, but I think it's a father's duty, responsibility and privilege to help raise his child.”

“Well—” she stood and dusted her hands “—now we know where we stand.”

“Almost.” He tossed down his cup and stood, closing the distance between them. He grabbed both her shoulders in big, hard hands. “Be careful, Chandra. If you don't watch out, you and the baby and God-only-knows who else might be hurt by this.”

“It's my business,” she said simply, unmoving.

“It's my business, too, like it or not. We're both involved.” He dropped his hands, and Chandra took the opportunity to step back a pace, to keep some distance from him. Her crazy heart was thundering. What was wrong
with her? She'd been with dozens of men on trips like this. A few had even made the mistake of making a pass at her. But until tonight, resisting a man's advances had come easy.

To make herself look busy, she rinsed her cup in the warm water simmering on the stove. “I'd better get this food back in the bag and hang it from the tree, then we can turn in.” She wished she'd never gotten close to O'Rourke. He'd only reinforced her fears that adopting the baby would be difficult, even painful, and might not work. But then he didn't know her, did he? He couldn't understand that once she'd set her mind on something, it would take the very devil himself to dissuade her.

Later, tucked snugly in her sleeping bag, she thought about the night stretching ahead of her, of the starlit sky, the mist rising off the river, the man who slept only a few feet away. Kissing him had seemed natural and safe. She touched her lips and quietly called herself a fool. Dallas O'Rourke was a doctor, for crying out loud, a man married to his job, a man who might stand in her way in her efforts to adopt J.D., a man of whom she knew very little. She'd had a physical response to him, that was all. It was no big deal. She hadn't been with a man since her divorce, and in those few years, she hadn't so much as let another man kiss her, though more than a few had tried.

It wasn't that she was a prude; her response to Dallas was evidence to the contrary. She just didn't want an involvement with any man, including Dr. O'Rourke.

C
HANDRA WAS UP
at the crack of dawn and insisted they break camp early.

“That's it? We're finished?” Dallas asked, his chin dark with the shadow of a beard, his eyes a midnight blue as he stretched and yawned. A few clouds hovered in the sky, but the temperature was cool, the mountain air crisp with the promise of autumn.

“Not quite. We still have one run before you can return to civilization. We'll eat, take down the tents, check the supplies and make sure we haven't sprung any leaks in the raft. Then we'll shoot the lower flats.”

“Lower flats? Calmer than Grizzly Loop, I hope.”

“Different,” she replied as she retrieved the supply sack. Fortunately, no bears had disturbed the food, though once before, on a camping trip in the mountains, she'd awakened to see her fat supply sack flapping in the breeze. It had been slashed at the bottom, the contents long gone, with only scraps of carton and paper and the wide tracks of a bear visible the next morning. That trip, they'd relied on the fish they'd caught and a few berries for the day. Fortunately, this time she wasn't embarrassed by a persistent and clever bear making a mockery of her precautions.

After a quick breakfast of muffins, fruit and coffee, they made preparations to break camp. Before she folded up her tent, Chandra changed into a swimsuit, shorts and
blouse. She tied her hair away from her face, ignored any thoughts of makeup and yanked on a nylon parka.

Dallas, who hadn't bothered shaving, wore a khaki-colored pair of shorts and blue pullover. “You know, we could call it quits here,” he said as he loosened a rope and his tent gave way.

“Your brother paid for a specific excursion,” Chandra replied. “I wouldn't want to disappoint him.”

“He'll never know.”

Bending over her own flattened tent, she smiled at him over her shoulder. “Cold feet, Dr. O'Rourke?”

“I just thought I'd save you some trouble, that's all.” His blue eyes gleamed with a devilish spark.

“No trouble at all.”

Dallas didn't argue any further. Chandra could sure change a man's mind, he thought as he watched her move expertly through the campsite, packing gear, bending over without even realizing she was offering him a view of her rounded buttocks and tapered legs.

“Well?” she asked, turning to cast him an inquiring look. Her rope of tawny hair fell over one shoulder.

“You're the boss.” He slapped his knees, and as he stood, he looked younger, more boyish, as if he were really enjoying himself.

She chuckled. “Now we're making progress.” They packed the remaining gear and carried it up the shaded path to the strip of road where their trucks were parked.

Dallas pumped the throttle and flicked the ignition switch of his truck. The engine revved loudly, and despite his reservations, he felt a surge of excitement at the coming raft trip. Being alone with Chandra in the wilderness was more than a little appealing, and he remembered their embrace vividly, more vividly than he remembered caressing or kissing any other woman in a long, long while.

He forced his thoughts away from the impending rafting trip and the possibilities of kissing her again, of the silken feel of her skin against his, of the proud lift of her breasts, pale in the moonlight.

“Stop it,” he muttered to himself, grinding the gears as he shifted down and wrenched on the wheel in an effort to follow her Suburban onto the flat rise of dry grass. She parked in the shade of some aspens that bordered the field. He stopped and willed his suddenly overactive sex drive into low gear.

The river curled close to the shore, cutting through the dry land in a shimmering swath that reminded him of a silvery snake.

Chandra cut the engine, hopped to the ground, locked the door, then climbed into the passenger side of Dallas's truck. She shoved her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and pretended she didn't notice the handsome thrust of his chin or the way his eyes crinkled near the corners as he squinted against the sun. She didn't let the masculine scent of him get to her, either.

He was just a man, she told herself firmly, forcing her gaze through the windshield to the rutted lane that wound through pools of sunlight and shadow. But he was her link to the baby—that was why she was attracted to him, she thought.

Deep in her heart, though, she knew she was kidding herself. Dallas was different, a man who touched a special chord deep within her, a chord that she didn't dare let him play.

She drummed her fingers on the armrest, and the hairs on the back of her neck lifted slightly when she felt him glance in her direction.