The Baby Track (11 page)

“All I can think is that I don’t know what kind of baby formula to buy,” moaned Courtney. “I know how to take care of a baby, but I don’t know a thing about formula and bottles. My older stepsister, Cathy, has three kids, and my two stepbrothers have two each, but all three mothers breast-fed their babies, so I never dealt with bottles and formula. Connor, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to do what we planned—only a lot sooner,” Connor said with sudden conviction. “When Nollier arrives with the baby, he’ll have to ask for the money, won’t he? When he tells us the sum, we’ll say we can’t afford it. We’ll keep him talking, get him to admit that he won’t give us the baby because we can’t meet his price. That’s definite baby-selling, Gypsy. Incriminating as hell.”

He swung the car into the large parking lot of the drugstore.

“If we don’t give Nollier the cash, he’ll take the baby away,” Courtney said gloomily. “We don’t actually have to buy anything here.”

“But we can’t come back to the house empty-handed. Mrs. Mason will get suspicious. After all, we’re not supposed to know that we can’t finance this child. We’ll save the receipts and return all the stuff we buy here tomorrow.” They went to the baby department and, with the aid of a helpful clerk, bought several cans of a quality-brand formula, a selection of bottles, diapers, little white undershirts and several soft pastel stretch suits. On impulse, Courtney put a tiny smocked pink dress and pink knit booties into the cart.

“I want her to keep the dress,” she said, staring at the delicate little garment with troubled dark eyes. “Nollier can give it to the person he sells her to.”

The very thought made her blood run cold. It was one I thing to talk about selling babies in the abstract, but when it came to being given the opportunity to buy a child herself, the situation was almost beyond comprehension. Tears filled her eyes, and she frantically blinked them back as they stood in the checkout line.

“Connor, suppose Wilson Nollier sells the baby to terrible people who’ll mistreat her and hurt her?” she whispered hoarsely. “It’ll be all our fault because we gave her back to Nollier instead of—”

“Buying her ourselves?” Connor hissed in a whisper. “Adopting her? Courtney, that’s not an option, for God sake! As you pointed out in the car, we’re not married. We can’t keep the baby! ”

“Then let’s pay his price and give her to Mark and Marianne,” cried Courtney. “Oh, please, Connor! We—” “Get a grip, Courtney. If we bought the baby, we’d be perpetrating the very crime we’re supposed to be investigating.” He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks and wiped his perspiring brow. “What a partner you turned
j
out to be! You fall apart in the first moments of our first case!”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “You’re right.”

She sounded so woebegone that Connor’s usually hardened heart went out to her. He placed his hand over hers as she pushed the cart forward. “Keeping Nollier from placing babies in the hands of the highest cash bidders is why i we’re doing this, Courtney. And don’t worry, we’ll see to it that the baby girl isn’t placed with terrible people.”

“Don’t try to placate me,” she snapped in a low voice, jerking her hand out from under his. “You know as well as I I do that we’ll never know what happens to that child once

Nollier takes her away. There is no way we can possibly prevent him from selling the baby to whomever he wants.” “You don’t have to bite my head off!” Connor was miffed. The one time he’d impulsively tried to be soothing instead of sarcastic and she’d flung the words back at him. “I was only trying to—”

“Trivialize the fate of that baby! Detach yourself from it and her and trying to get me to do the same. Well, I won’t, Connor McKay. Unlike you, I’m not afraid to make commitments and keep them. And we—”

“We’re next,” he interrupted coldly, feeling undeservedly misunderstood. “Start unloading the cart.”

They weren’t speaking as they cleared the checkout line and carried their purchases back to the car. Nor did they exchange a single word until they were back in their room at Mrs. Mason’s house, surrounded by their luggage and packages.

“Unbutton your blouse,” Connor ordered.

Her heart slammed against the wall of her chest. “What?” She was suddenly very aware that they were alone together—in a bedroom. And that she really didn’t know him very well at all.

Connor glanced at her pale face and anxious brown eyes. “Oh, for godsakes, I’m not going to assault you.” He made an exclamation of disgust. “I want to put a wire on you— for Nollier’s visit. Wilson Nollier, remember him? The reason why you and I are here?”

“I can do without the sarcasm, thank you.” Courtney sniffed. “Violence is so pervasive these days, women can’t help being paranoid. Anyway, why don’t you wear the wire?”

“Because you’d have to tape it to me and I don’t trust you to do the job right. Anyway, that tape sticks to the hair on my chest and it’s excruciating to pull off. I can fasten the wire to your bra,” he added, narrowing his eyes. “You do wear one, don’t you? I can’t tell with that flak jacket you’re wearing.”

Courtney spluttered, flustered. To which of his well-aimed attacks should she respond first? That her stylish jacket no way resembled a flak jacket in any shape or form? That she did indeed wear a bra—but if he thought she was going to unbutton her blouse for him, he was definitely delusional. And then there was his remark about his chest. She’d already ogled the muscular strength of him; now her mind mentally added a thick mat of wiry-soft hair to that broad masculine expanse.

While she was dealing with all of this, Connor took action. He began to unbutton her blouse with the deft expertise of one who has completed the task many times.

“Stop!” Courtney slapped at his hands. “I refuse to let-”

“Relax, Gypsy.” Connor smiled that caustic smile she loathed. “I’m not trying to seduce you, either. And I promise that the sight of your bra isn’t going to thrust me into the throes of foaming lust. I just want to clip the wire onto you, not cop a feel. Now stand still.”

Courtney’s cheeks burned. His fingers were brushing against the softness of her breasts as he reached into the cup of her bra to attach the wire. She felt her nipples growing taut as they strained against the lace. If the tip of his index finger were to move just a centimeter or two lower, he would be touching the sensitive aureole.

Nor was Connor as unaffected as he pretended by the intimacy. Her skin was smooth as satin to the touch, and he had to look at her in order to properly adjust the wire. What he saw was a lacy pink bra, and he couldn’t help wondering if she was wearing matching panties, tiny sexy ones, the kind that clouded a man’s mind on sight. Filling the cups of that ultra-feminine bra were full and rounded milk-white breasts, which were paradoxically both soft and firm and so tantalizing that desire, sharp and swift, sliced through him.

His breathing quickened and he fumbled with the clip. It fell deeper into the cup and he reached for it, brushing her nipple as he retrieved it. Courtney gasped. The brief touch sent a lightning bolt of sensation all the way to her most secret, intimate parts.

Connor felt the tight hard bud and a sensual heaviness pooled in his groin in response. He couldn’t help himself, he had to touch her again. Deliberately this time, he dropped the clip, then sent his fingers onto a search mission inside the cup of her bra.

Courtney sucked in her breath. A wildly pleasurable tightness spiraled through her as his hand moved against her. His fingers were moving slowly as they gently probed her nipple, which was growing even harder and more sensitive. She had never experienced anything as electrifying as the delicious feelings that surged through her as he stroked and caressed her with his clever hand.

Courtney heard a soft little sound escape from the back of her throat, and she arched her spine so that her breast pressed boldly into his palm. Her knees felt weak; it was difficult to hold her eyelids open. She wanted to close them, to lie down and...

Connor gave up the phony quest for the clip along with any attempt to wire her. Gathering evidence was the last thing on his mind as the tantalizing scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. His fingers were trembling with anticipation and need as he unfastened the front clasp on her bra, but he was too aroused to worry about the absence of his characteristic laconic cool. Her bra fell away, and when his hands fully cupped her breasts, both Courtney and Connor sighed.

“Oh God, Gypsy,” he whispered, his lips feathering her temple and her sleek, dark hair. “You’re so soft, so sweet.” His hands slid to her waist and he guided her to the bed which stood a convenient half-foot away.

Swiftly he pulled her down on it, lying beside her so they were face-to-face.

The change in position, from vertical to horizontal, enabled Courtney to briefly surface from the sensual quicksand enveloping her. “Connor,” she murmured, shivering as his mouth trailed down the sensitive curve of her neck. His hands were back on her breasts, fondling, squeezing, making her ache with a hunger she had never known.

“We can’t,” she whispered on a moan. But as if of their own volition, her hands slid along the length of his arms to rest on his shoulders. The supple strength of him distracted her. She flexed her fingers, feeling his muscles ripple beneath her touch. Suddenly the cotton shirt he wore was a frustrating barrier.

“We—we shouldn’t,” she amended breathlessly.

“I know,” Connor grated in reply. His mouth was open and hot against hers. “I know.”

He thrust his tongue into her mouth without any idle preliminaries, his hunger too great to indulge in his usual premeditated foreplay. Desire, urgent and heavy, tightened his body.

Courtney melted against him, the softness of her body accommodating itself to the hard masculine planes of his. With a sensual groan, Connor deepened the kiss, demanding and receiving an intimately passionate response that she gave willingly and without reservation.

Her senses were reeling, her body warm and arching into his. The sparks that had been kindled during those previous, aborted kisses blazed to full intensity, burning away all inhibitions and thoughts of resistance. Courtney clung to him, dizzy with the unfamiliar but irresistible pleasure and desire he was rousing in her. She wanted it to go on and on.

Connor’s breathing was hard and fast and his hands moved over her, learning the shape of her, all the feminine curves and hollows concealed by her modestly cut suit— which he wanted to strip off her so he could savor the feel of her bare skin.

He felt as if he were going a little crazy. Never had he burned like this, not even in the heady randy days of adolescence. He dimly recognized that if he were in full control of his faculties, he would be pulling back, unable and unwilling to accept the power this woman had over him. He was used to being the master of his passions, he never lost his head, yet he was coming dangerously close to doing exactly that.

But none of that seemed to matter now.

Cradling Courtney in his arms, Connor rolled her onto her back, coming down on top of her. She relished the intoxicating heaviness of his weight, wrapping her arms around him and wriggling sensuously beneath him.

“I said I wasn’t going to seduce you,” Connor rasped, his head spinning, as if he’d had one too many shots of one-hundred-proof bourbon. “But, baby, I think you’re seducing me!”

He slipped his leg between hers, forcing her narrow skirt to hike up high on her thighs. Connor glided his hand along the long, smooth length of her leg, encased in sheer rose-tinted stockings. Courtney’s toes curled in her shoes and her leather pumps dropped off her feet, one by one. Her body arched into his and she felt his virile hardness pressing intimately against her. This shouldn’t be happening, she thought vaguely, dazedly. It was too fast, too soon and...

“Never, never get sexually hooked on a man who is wrong for you. ”
Michelle’s words flashed to mind but were quickly submerged in the warm seas of sensuality into which she was slipping. When Connor claimed her mouth for another deep, hungry kiss, her eyes closed in ecstasy and she gave into the pure primal pleasure of it.

It took several long moments for the sharp, staccato knocks on the door to penetrate the passionate mists enveloping them. Slowly, dazedly, they drew apart and sat up, staring at each other with slumberous, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Mr. Nollier is here with the baby,” Mrs. Mason called through the closed door. “I told him you’d be right down.”

Connor inhaled sharply. Courtney covered her cheeks with her hands. The baby!

“We’ll be right there,” Connor said. His voice was husky and thick and the sensuous sound of it sent a shudder of response through Courtney.

“Connor,” she whispered, laying her hand on his thigh. She remembered that old pop standard her mother sometimes played. “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.” She’d thought the title effectively alliterative, but now she fully appreciated the sentiments behind the words. It was the way she was feeling now.

Mrs. Mason’s urgent announcement took second place to the restlessness that churned through her. Her mind was filled with Connor. He’d been so tender with her, so hungry for her. And she had never responded to a man with such passion in her life. Her body still felt heavy and liquid and deliciously, languidly sensual.

Despite the timing and the crucial events about to unfold, she craved his touch. Even a smile or a kind word would suffice, anything to let her know that what had just happened between them meant something to him. That she meant something more to him than merely a physical way to pass some time.

Connor stood up, making a few necessary adjustments to his clothing. “We’ve got to go down now,” he said tone-lessly, heading toward the door. He didn’t look back at her. He didn’t trust himself to continue walking away from her were he to glimpse her kiss-swollen mouth or her soft, exposed breasts.

Courtney blushed scarlet and she tried not to show the hurt she felt at his abrupt dismissal. As she fumbled with the front-fastening clasp of her bra with trembling fingers, she spied the forgotten clip, which had fallen to the carpet. “What about the wire?” she murmured.