The Baby Race (7 page)

Because her full breasts brushed against his
arm as she applied antiseptic cream, he didn't feel the sting, but
the unexpected contact made him suck in his breath. She was
instantly contrite.

"Sorry." She lifted his hand then pressed a
soft kiss to the skin next to his wound. He turned his hand so her
kiss settled in his palm. The kiss ran through him like heat
lightning. He groaned.

Startled, she jumped back. The sink stopped
her instinctive retreat. Color flooded her cheeks. "I'm s-sorry,"
she stuttered. "For a moment, I-I forgot you aren't Bobbie Sue. I-I
always kiss her boo-boos away."

Race didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Wants and needs coursed through him. Having the woman kneeling
between his thighs forget he wasn't a seven-year old girl didn't do
much for his ego.

~~~~~

CHAPTER SIX

"There, all set." Claire rose from
straightening Bobbie Sue's small black bow tie. She and Rachel were
both decked out in miniature tuxedos, ready to play their parts at
this night's gala event and they looked adorable.

The two girls giggled and ran off to find
Cindy and receive their last minute instructions. Swamped with work
on the banquet, Claire was pleased when Race came up with the idea
of having the girls escort the guests to their tables. Busy as she
was, Claire was thankful the girls were well occupied.

"How's it coming?" Race stuck his head into
the kitchen.

When he stepped around the corner, Claire's
breath caught in her chest. If she'd thought him handsome in denim
and flannel he was devastating in his black tux and crisp white
silk shirt. A thin piece of black silk tied his mahogany hair at
the nape of his neck, adding a touch of raffish danger to his
sophistication. In comparison, she felt like a scullery maid with
her steam limp hair, torn shorts and stained t-shirt.

"You look great." And completely out of her
reach.

"Everyone looks good in a monkey suit, even
those two little ragamuffins."

"Cindy was right, the tuxes add class to the
affair."

"I'll get Cindy for this. The next time the
country club has their picnic I'll sign her up for the tug-of-war
over the mud pit." He stuck his hand into the cummerbund around his
waist and grimaced. "These things are worse than a straightjacket.
A man can't breathe. How did you convince War to wear one?"

Claire laughed. "Not me, Vicki. He swore he
wouldn't and the next thing I knew he was along for a fitting." All
the men, as well as Vicki and her friends who were serving were
wearing tuxedos.

"Interesting," Race murmured, then he
frowned. "You're not dressed."

"I can't supervise the meal and attend the
dinner." The thought of mingling with the rich, well-educated
people invited to the fund-raiser put a knot of fear in her
stomach.

"That's why I hired Max."

Her friend had generously agreed to forgo her
vacation to help out. Claire knew she would have been lost without
Max. Putting together this event had been more complicated than
she'd anticipated. Classes and books hadn't prepared her for the
multitude of things that could go wrong. Max's years of experience
in running a diner had pulled them through the numerous crises and
now everything was set to go.

He peered around the cluttered kitchen. "Were
is she?"

"Doing a last minute check on the tent and
the hors d'oeuvre table. She'll be back in a minute."

"Everything under control?"

"Yes." Just barely.

"The food smells wonderful."

Claire could only nod. The thought of
actually eating any of the elaborately prepared dishes made her
feel queasy.

"There's two hours until the guests start
arriving, go get dressed."

"I can't leave. Something might burn."

"Nonsense. Go. I'll monitor things until Max
comes in."

"But what if I'm needed."

He walked over. "We'll deal with anything
that comes up together. Right now I need you by my side."

His words and the warm weight of his hands on
her shoulders melted her objections. For him, she'd put on the new
dress Cindy and Vicki had helped her pick out and face a crowd of
wealthy strangers.

A quick shower revived her tired muscles and
limp hair, but couldn't ease her fears. Tonight she'd have to play
the part of loving wife to Race, a man who was still more stranger
than not.

After their closeness over Bobbie Sue and the
kitten, Claire had hoped their relationship would take on new
depth. But the last two weeks of planning the fund-raiser dinner
had kept them both too busy to do more than leave notes for each
other.

She sighed as she smoothed on skin lotion and
slipped into the simple white sheath dress Cindy had declared was
perfect for her. Thin straps held up the slip-like evening gown.
The back non-existent, the V of the bodice reaching nearly to her
navel, the dress left little of her anatomy to the imagination. She
felt naked and exposed as the dress clung to every curve, sliding
softly over her skin.

She pulled her shoulder length hair into a
French twist and put on a pair of fragile white sandals. Afraid
she'd look ridiculous, like a child playing dress-up, she turned to
look in the mirror.

What she saw made her stop. Who was the sleek
elegant woman staring back at her? Claire Jensen's taste in
clothing ran more toward khaki, denim and cotton.

But she was no longer Claire Jensen. She was
now Claire Reed.

*****

Race tugged at his bow tie as he watched
Claire escape from the kitchen, when it was really his trousers
that were strangling him.

In the last two weeks, Claire had performed a
miracle. The large white tent, situated along a sandy stretch of
the river, looked like a miniature castle. Barely visible in the
late afternoon sun, the fairy lights strung on the tent, trees and
bushes would cast a magical air once the sunset. Warm, but not
humid, the weather was perfect, the skies clear.

He hadn't been kidding when he said the food
smelled delicious. She and Max had worked non-stop to create a meal
fit for a king's banquet. Every detail had been seen to. The guests
tonight would get their money's worth both in taste and
presentation. He wanted her to relax and enjoy her success.

He wanted her at his side. He was looking
forward to showing her off. The thought rocked him. When had she
become more than just a means to an end? When had he begun to enjoy
her company, her quick wit and optimistic nature?

He forced the thoughts and questions from his
mind. The last thing he wanted was a permanent relationship, to be
responsible for the happiness and well being of another - two other
people. Memories of his mother and childhood killed the tender
sprout of hope in his heart. Theirs was nothing more than a
business deal. He'd do well to keep in mind that in mind. In eleven
months he'd have satisfied Grandmere's marriage conditions, Claire
would have legal custody of Bobbie Sue, and they would divorce. It
was beyond foolish to want or expect any more from their
arrangement. Committing yourself to another person was a sure path
to pain

What about Cindy and his father? The question
crept into his mind, but he dismissed their marriage as the
exception that proved the rule. Besides his father had to marry
twice to find his happiness.

"I'm ready."

Claire's soft, breathless voice made him
turn. All his well thought out arguments evaporated in the heat her
appearance generated.

Like some pagan goddess she floated down the
stairs toward him. White silk shimmered over her, leaving an
expanse of smooth creamy skin exposed. Moisture pooled in his mouth
as he stared. Where was the elfin woman-child he'd married? Where
had this sophisticated enchantress come from?

"Do I look all right?" she asked.

"If you looked any better, I'd have to skip
dinner," he muttered.

"What?" Her soft, shy hesitation alerted him
to her apprehension.

He swallowed the urge to haul her back up the
stairs to his bed. "You look marvelous." His poor imitation of
Billy Crystal's line made her smile.

A delicate scent preceded her down the
stairs. He held out his arm. Tanned and slightly stained from
paint, her hand, with its short bare nails, came to rest on his
sleeve. When he felt her slight tremble, he covered her hand with
his own and squeezed. Her fingers eased their grip beneath his.

Outside, the soft strains of pre-dinner music
drifted in the growing twilight. In the distance a horse nickered
and another answered. Fairy lights twinkled. Hordes of candles
flickered in a gentle breeze. The moist scent of the river flowing
a few yards away mingled with the mouth-watering aroma of succulent
beef.

Though cocktails were still an hour a way
people had begun to arrive. Race took his place at the opening to
the tent, with Claire anchored to his side by an arm wrapped around
her slender waist. After he greeted each arrival and introduced
Claire, Bobbie Sue and Rachel escorted them to their tables with
somber intensity. The adults smiled over their heads.

Soon the sounds of conversation filled the
tent.

"Amelia," Race greeted his grandmother
coolly.

"Grandmere to you, my boy," she corrected and
placed a kiss on his cheek before he could move away. The glint in
her eyes told him she hadn't missed his aversion. "Though I should
be quite angry with you for not inviting me to your wedding, I've
decided to forgive you."

"How generous."

Amelia clasped Claire hands and kissed her on
both cheeks. "Welcome to the Reed family, my dear."

"Mrs. Reed," Claire said.

"You must also call me Grandmere."

"Always giving orders," Race said.

Amelia's eyebrows lifted. "An advantage of
age, dear boy."

She turned toward the blond man at her side.
"Have you met Race's cousin, Colin?"

Race hadn't noticed Colin skulking in the
shadows behind his grandmother.

"And this is Miss Elizabeth Ashley Colston,"
Amelia introduced the tall redhead standing beside Colin.

Race had all he could do to keep from
grinning. What kind of blackmail had Colin used to get the woman
here? If looks could kill, Colin would be nothing but cinders.

"Miss Colston," Claire murmured. "Colin and I
have met. He's a regular at Max's. He has a taste for my
cooking."

Elizabeth pushed passed Colin and took
Claire's hand in a firm grip. "You can call me Lizzie." She glared
at Colin. "I need a drink."

As she strode away, Colin shrugged and
followed, but Race could see the anger simmering beneath his
cousin's genial demeanor.

"Rude young woman, but she has impeccable
bloodlines. Sad situation with her father." Amelia tsked beneath
her breath. "Still, she will do quite nicely for Colin. Of course,"
her tone turned regal, "he will have to do something about her
atrocious manners." She turned to Race. "I wish to sit. Escort me
to my table."

Bobbie Sue approached, her arm held out.
"That's my job, Grandmere."

Race held his breath. If she dared to demean
or embarrass the child, he wouldn't hold his tongue.

Amelia's smile changed her whole demeanor.
"How delightful." She placed her wrinkled, bejeweled hand on Bobbie
Sue's sleeve. "Lead on."

"Come on, the Queen has arrived," Race said.
"The party can start. Let's go mingle." Amelia Reed's presence cast
a cloud over his enthusiasm for the evening. Though he'd known she
would make an appearance, he never expected her to arrive early and
stay. Well aware of her position in Council Falls, she attended
every social event like a queen gracing her subjects with her
presence. He didn't feel graced; he felt...What did he feel?

Anger? Resentment? For years, he'd listened
as his mother repeated over and over how Amelia Reed had ruined her
marriage. How it was Amelia Reed's fault they lived a hand-to-mouth
existence. Even now, the mere sound of his grandmother's name
soured his mood.

Their duty finished now that the queen had
arrived Race moved into the tent. Claire followed him. "Your
grandmother is a lonely woman."

Race choked back a laugh. "Lonely? I doubt
Grandmere has been alone a day in her life. She has a houseful of
servants and more money than God."

"There's a difference between being alone and
being lonely. Money can't make a person happy."

"Yeah, well, if she's lonely and unhappy it's
her own fault. She alienates people with her attitude. She
manipulates and uses people for her owns ends."

"Does she?"

"Look what she's trying to do to Colin and
Lizzie. What she did to us. She couldn't just offer a helping
hand." His anger at a meddling old woman spilled over onto Claire.
"She has us all jumping through hoops like trained monkeys. Doing
things we'd never consider otherwise."

The hurt in Claire's eyes stopped him from
elaborating.

"Damn! I need a drink." He stalked away.

At the bar, Race's anger faded. Dabner,
Amelia's ageless, very proper English butler stood behind the bar
taking and filling orders. Another of Claire's coup's. "Scotch,
straight up."

"You'll need at least a double to get the
taste of Amelia Reed out of your mouth." Lizzie sipped her
drink.

"Why are you here? You hate the Reeds."

Eyes slightly glazed from liquor, Lizzie
shook her head. "Not all of them." Her gaze zeroed in and softened
on Colin standing across the tent.

"Oh, my God! You're in love with him."

Her mouth went tight. "Nonsense. He's an
impossible playboy, without a lick of sense or loyalty in his
entire body."

Race groaned. "You're going to marry
him."

She took a gulp of her drink. "Yes."

"Why?"