The Unclaimed Baby (5 page)

“You've made a conquest, I see.” She couldn't seem to help the testy note in her voice. Fortunately Cord seemed oblivious to it.

“I've always been a big hit with ladies under two.”

Sharon Lynn was willing to wager he'd been a huge success with women of any age. Aside from his looks, there was that quick wit and easygoing charm about him that could weave a spell in the blink of an eye. If she'd been a lot less wary of men and relationships, she might have been taken with him herself. As it was, she could view the ingrained flirting with tolerant amusement. Or so she reassured herself.

“Have you ever been married?” she asked.

He took the out-of-the-blue question in stride. “No, why?”

It was as if the words had just popped out of her head. She couldn't have explained if her life depended on it. She swallowed hard and managed to improvise. “You're so good with the baby. It's as if you're used to this. I thought maybe you'd had a wife and kids.”

He shrugged. “Nope. Just second nature, I suppose. I like kids, but I've never had any of my own. Guess I always thought kids deserved two parents who loved each other and intended to stick together through thick and thin. There's never been a woman I felt that way about.”

“Lots of brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews?”

He shook his head. “No, an only child. Maybe that's why I gravitate toward big families with lots of kids underfoot.”

“Then you're at the right place at White Pines. As you've seen already, the ranch is crawling with family.”

He settled the baby against his shoulder, then turned his penetrating gaze on Sharon Lynn. “Ever heard the expression about being all alone in a crowd? Sometimes when what you want most in the world seems almost within reach, it's harder than ever to accept that you don't really have it.”

As his words sank in, Sharon Lynn's gaze sought out the baby. It was true. For the past two days, she had been caught up in a game of make-believe. She had held a child in her arms and despite all the disclaimers she had voiced to her family, she had pre
tended that the baby was hers to keep. She had longed for it to be so.

Knowing that it wasn't, accepting that it might never be, brought the salty sting of tears to her eyes. Before she was aware he'd even moved, Cord had placed the baby back in the carrier and was drawing her into his arms. To her surprise, not only did she not resist, but she went willingly.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

He tucked her head beneath his chin, where she could feel the beat of his heart and smell the clean, masculine scent of him. The comfort was her undoing. Tears, never far from the surface these days, spilled down her cheeks and soaked the soft chambray of his shirt.

“I'm sorry,” he said again. “I never meant to make you cry. What was it I said?”

“It's not you,” she managed to choke out. “I've been a regular waterworks for months now. It doesn't take much to set me off.”

He tipped her chin up with a finger, then swiped gently at her tears with his thumb. The tender gesture left her trembling.

“Want to tell me why?” he asked.

“Not really.” She regarded him with a watery glance. “Do you mind?”

“I mind that you're sad, but I don't mind that you're not ready to share the reason for it with me. After all, we're little more than strangers.”

Right now, though, Cord Branson didn't feel like a stranger. He felt like a trusted, undemanding friend,
someone she—and the baby—could rely on. Everyone in her family was certainly reliable, but at the first sign of tears, they worried. They plagued her with solicitous invitations or plunked themselves down in her living room and tried to cheer her up. Adamses wanted to fix things for her. Cord seemed willing to just be there.

“Thank you,” she whispered against his chest.

“No need to thank me,” he insisted. “One of these days I'll pry the secret out of you and then I'll go after whoever hurt you.”

“I appreciate the thought, but heroics aren't needed.” She rested her head against the solid wall of his chest again, unwilling to leave the warmth and comfort of his embrace, even though she knew it would be the wise thing to do. Her life had gotten complicated enough in the past few days without dragging him into the middle of the storm of emotions that the baby had unleashed inside her.

Finally she sighed and pulled away. When she glanced up, it was into twinkling eyes.

“No need to move on my account,” he said lightly. “I was just beginning to enjoy myself.”

She shot him a wry grin. “That's what I was afraid of.”

His expression sobered at once. “You don't have to be afraid with me, darlin'. Not ever.”

“I'm not afraid of you.”

He touched a finger to her lips. “That's not what I said. I said you don't have to be afraid
with
me.
Nothing will ever hurt you when I'm around. That's a guarantee.”

For reasons every bit as mysterious and every bit as certain as those that had led her to keep the abandoned baby with her, rather than turning her over to foster care, Sharon Lynn believed him.

Because she trusted him so implicitly, she glanced around Dolan's to be sure everything that needed to be done before closing had been done, then met his gaze.

“Why don't you come to my place for dinner? You can put the baby to bed, while I make spaghetti and a salad.”

“Throw in a beer and you're on.”

Sharon Lynn froze at the mention of beer. Ever since the accident, she hadn't wanted to be near anyone who was drinking, not even a single beer. Sensitive to the circumstances, everyone in the family had been careful to avoid alcohol around her. But, of course, Cord couldn't possibly know that.

“I'm sorry. There's none in the house.”

The words came out more stiffly than she'd intended. In the awkward silence that followed, she waited for him to suggest stopping off to pick up a six-pack, but after an intent study of her face, he merely shrugged.

“Soda will do, with coffee for a chaser,” he said easily.

“Now that I can accommodate,” she said, relieved that he hadn't pushed, either for the beer or an explanation.

“Then let's get out of here. Something tells me our little buddy here is going to be starving herself pretty soon and we'd better be ready to swing into action. She's not nearly as patient as I am.”

Nothing about Cord Branson suggested he was the least bit patient, but Sharon Lynn let that pass. He'd allowed an awkward moment slide by without comment and that was all she cared about. A man who could ignore hints and innuendoes, who could detect a puzzle and let it rest until the solution was offered voluntarily was a rarity. After months of people poking and prying into her feelings, she was more grateful than he would ever know.

“Let me grab another package of formula and we're set.”

“I'll get that. You bundle up the little darlin'.”

When everyone was wrapped snugly in enough layers to withstand the bitter cold, they walked briskly to her place. She couldn't help thinking that on a night just like this one a week ago, the cold had cut through her and left a chill not only throughout her body, but in her heart. What a difference a few days—and the presence of this man and this baby—had made. What would happen to her when—not if, but
when
—they were gone?

C
ord had never spent a more frustrating few minutes in his life. First the unexpected flood of tears from a woman who seemed so strong, then the admission of secrets and the shuttered expression at the mention of beer. There was a story there, but he had a feeling it was a whole lot more complicated than anything he could imagine.

It would be simple enough to get at the truth out at White Pines. Sharon Lynn had said it herself—she had no secrets from her family. Fortunately he was wise enough to know that the answers had to come from her. He wanted her to trust him enough to share them with him, to let him into her life totally and completely. That kind of trust didn't happen over night and it surely wouldn't happen if he started pry
ing. Obviously this was going to be just one more test of his patience.

In the meantime, though, his imagination was working overtime. To silence all the wild speculation going on in his head, he focused on the baby. Every time he held her, he was more awestruck. She was so tiny, so perfect. Powerful, amazing emotions swept through him, made him vow to protect her with his life if it ever came to that. The emotions were all the more astonishing because he had no idea where they'd come from. His own pitiful parents had never set such an example.

“Have you ever in your life seen a kid this size eat this much?” he asked as she sucked lustily on her bottle, her little hands gripping it tightly as if she feared he might take it from her. “You don't suppose she was half starved when we found her?”

“Lizzy says her weight appeared to be normal and that she wasn't showing any signs of being malnourished.” Her expression darkened. “Have you thought about the mother at all?”

“I've tried not to. It's too infuriating. What about you?”

“I can't help thinking that she must have been truly desperate.”

“Maybe the mother wasn't in any position to care for a child.”

“You mean financially?”

“I mean maybe she was sick herself, maybe she even died after the baby was born and the baby's father couldn't cope.”

Her expression shifted from anger to sympathy. “Oh, God, I hadn't even considered that.” She came to stand close and brushed gentle fingers over the baby's head. “Poor little thing.”

Cord glanced up at her. “Not so poor. She landed with you, didn't she? She's warm and safe.”

“But all alone.”

“She has you. She has me,” he said fiercely.

Sharon Lynn grinned. “She certainly does seem to have you wrapped around her little finger.”

He snuggled the weight of her a little closer, laughed when her face screwed up as the bottle's nipple slipped from her mouth. “Are you still hungry?” he murmured incredulously, even as he offered her more. He glanced over at Sharon Lynn, who had gone back to stirring spaghetti sauce, filling the kitchen with an enticing aroma. “Have you given any thought to giving her a name?”

Her hand stilled. “I don't think I should. It's not my place.”

“We can't just go on referring to her as the baby. It sounds like she's interchangeable with every other kid.” He studied the baby intently, then said, “I think we should call her Ashley.”

“Ashley? Why Ashley?”

“I don't know. I like it.”

Sharon Lynn hesitated for a full minute, her expression troubled. “I don't know…”

“Then you pick.”

“I meant I don't know if we should do this.”

“Why not?”

She drew in a deep breath and met his gaze. “It makes it too much like we think she's going to stay.”

“She is staying, for a time, anyway. While she's here, she deserves a name,” he insisted. “She shouldn't be anonymous, even for a short time.”

After a moment, Sharon Lynn smiled. “How about Cordelia, then? After the man who found her.”

He laughed, even though something deep inside him yearned to say yes. It would give him a lasting connection to this baby no matter what happened, but
Cordelia?
No way. He shook his head. “She'd never forgive us.”

“If she goes back to her family, she'd probably never even know. It would just be between us,” Sharon Lynn said pointedly.

He grinned. “You hankering for another secret?”

“Maybe.”

“No. I still vote for Ashley. That's got some class to it. I can see her growing up to run a whole cattle empire one day.”

Sharon Lynn faced him, her expression troubled. “Don't,” she whispered, the word barely more than a broken cry.

Startled by the reaction, he stared. “Don't what?”

“Don't make plans for the future. Don't look too far ahead. She could be gone tomorrow.”

Instinctively he held the baby a little tighter as if to prevent her going. “That's the advice you've been hearing all day, isn't it? That's what had you so upset when I turned up tonight?”

She nodded. “It's good advice. It really is. I can't think beyond the moment.”

Cord sighed at the well-meaning logic. “You're right, of course. I'm sorry. It's easy to get caught up in the fantasy.”

Her expression turned sympathetic. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

He glanced down at the baby and saw that she had finally fallen asleep. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I'll put her down for the night. Do you want her on your bed again?”

“I think the portable crib tonight. You can set it up in my room, next to the bed. I'll get a blanket to put in the bottom.”

She followed him down the hall, then held the baby while he set up the portable crib they'd brought with them from Dolan's. Cord caught a glimpse of her face for just an instant before she realized he was looking. There was a raw yearning there every bit as deep as his own. Gently he took the baby and placed her in the crib, then reached out to brush a stray curl from Sharon Lynn's cheek. She trembled at his touch, then gazed at him with an anguished expression.

This time he was the one who whispered, “Don't. Don't look ahead. She's with us now.”

She gave him a wavery smile. “Yes, she is. She's with us now.”

When they returned to the kitchen and dinner was on the table, neither of them seemed to have much of an appetite. Though it was the last thing in the
world he wanted, Cord drew in a deep breath and said, “Maybe your family is right. Maybe this isn't such a good thing.”

She stared at him with obvious shock. “What are you saying?”

“There are professionals, people who deal with this kind of case all the time.”

“She's not a
case,
” Sharon Lynn protested vehemently. “She's a baby. She needs me.”

“And you need her,” he suggested cautiously, recognizing that his own needs ran just as deep and were just as troubling. “That's the real danger, isn't it?”

“Okay, yes,” she said, her eyes glittering with defiance “But she's all that matters. Until we know more, she's staying with me and that's final.”

“I just don't want to see you hurt.”

“People get hurt all the time. They live with it,” she said flatly.

“Some pain can be avoided, though.”

“She's staying, Cord. If it turns out there's family to take her, somebody who can care for her properly, give her the love she deserves, I'll deal with it.”

She said it with the strength and conviction of someone who'd survived other losses. Cord wondered if he could say it as readily. He'd spent even less time with the baby—Ashley—and already he was ready to fight to hold on to her. It was a totally irrational response, one based on emotions, not logic, but that was pretty much how he'd lived his life. His gut instincts hadn't steered him wrong yet.

“We'll wait and see, then,” he said finally.

“
We?
I'm the one responsible for her,” Sharon Lynn protested. “When did you get a say in what happens?”

Cord's jaw tightened at the attempt to dismiss him. “Friday night, when I found her in the snow.”

“If you hadn't been there, I would have heard the thump. I would have found her.”

“But I was there,” he reminded her quietly. “If there's a decision to be made, we talk it over, understood? We're in this together, darlin'. Get used to it.”

 

Sharon Lynn didn't know what to make of a man like Cord Branson. How many men would assume responsibility for an abandoned baby? How many would insist on being a part of any decisions that were made? The men in her family would have, even worrywort, by-the-book Justin, but Adams men were a breed apart. She hadn't met many others like them.

Of course, as a practical matter, Cord was at White Pines. The baby was here in town with her. She was responsible for the day-to-day care, the middle-of-the-night feedings, the diaper changes, juggling the baby and work. How often was Cord likely to pop in for a few minutes of cuddling the baby, maybe a feeding? How long would it be before he tired of making the long drive? How long before the novelty of make-believe parenting wore off?

Quite a while, she finally concluded at the end of the week, when Cord had turned up every single eve
ning promptly at six and insisted on taking over Ashley's care.

“You've had her all day. I'll pitch in now,” he told her emphatically on Tuesday and every night after.

She'd never seen a man so taken with a child. On the one hand, knowing how precious little time they might have, she begrudged him every second he spent with the baby. It was time lost to her. On the other hand, it was amazing and wonderful to see just how tender and patient he was. Ashley responded to him with gurgles of delight. No matter how fussy she'd been, she quieted at once in his arms. He had a magic touch, all right. Sharon Lynn envied him that.

“Why the disgruntled expression, darlin'?” he inquired from his perch on a stool at the counter. Ashley was settled in his arms with a pacifier in her mouth.

“Sorry,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Better, but I don't believe it. What's on your mind?”

She slapped down the rag she'd been using to wipe the counter. “Okay, here it is. I just don't get it. She's been cranky all afternoon. You walk in, pick her up and
bam,
she's peaceful as a little lamb.”

He grinned. “Seems to me you're the cranky one, darlin'. You want to slip up here in my lap and see if I can settle you down, too?”

She scowled. “That is not what I meant.”

“No, what you meant is that you're doing all the
hard work and then I waltz in and get duty that's a snap. You get the tears. I get the smiles.”

He'd hit the nail on the head, but it seemed selfish and mean-spirited to admit it. “You don't have to help out at all,” she told him stiffly. “I can manage.”

“I thought we'd settled that. I'm going to do my share, at least as much as I can, given our circumstances. Now, come on. Finish up here and I'll take you out to dinner. Then you can go home and get a decent night's sleep. I'll bunk on the sofa and take the 2:00 a.m. feeding. I don't have to work in the morning. Your brother's taking over for me.”

Sharon Lynn regarded him skeptically. “Harlan Patrick volunteered for extra duty? Why?”

“I didn't ask questions. I just grabbed at the chance to relieve you.”

“I suppose this was daddy's bright idea,” she muttered under her breath. “Or Grandpa Harlan's.”

“Does it really matter? I thought you'd be grateful.”

“Oh, I am,” she said, thinking longingly of getting an uninterrupted night's sleep for a change. But she had a feeling that whoever had dreamed up the notion had been more interested in throwing her and Cord together overnight. Fortunately he seemed oblivious to that particular motive.

When she'd put the last of the cleaning supplies away, she glanced up and saw Cord watching her.

“On second thought,” he suggested, “why don't
we go to your place? You can prop your feet up, put on a little music, relax and I'll cook.”

“You cook?”

“Well enough. Tempted?”

“Oh, yes,” she said fervently. “It sounds like heaven. Maybe I could even take a nice long bubble bath, while you're in the kitchen.”

“If you'd like,” he agreed, though his voice suddenly sounded a little husky.

Sharon Lynn discovered that she was enjoying the reaction just a little too much to let it pass. “That wouldn't bother you, would it?” she asked innocently.

“Bother me?” he echoed irritably. “Why would it bother me?”

“I can't imagine,” she said. “I mean, it's just a bubble bath. There's nothing provocative about that.”

He scowled at her as he led the way out of Dolan's and waited while she locked up. When she glanced up there was a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Don't push your luck, darlin', or I'll be sharing that bubble bath with you,” he warned.

Now there was an interesting idea, she thought before she could stop herself. Dear heaven, what was happening to her? She didn't want to seduce Cord Branson.

Or did she? Was that why she'd been so frustrated and edgy all week? Was she more attracted to him than she'd wanted to admit? Was she actually jealous
of the amount of attention he was devoting to the baby, rather than to her?

No, she told herself firmly. Of course not. Flirting was just that. Teasing. Setting off a few sparks. Part of nature's male-female game. It didn't have to imply anything more. It never had to go beyond taunts.

But there was no mistaking the slow reawakening of her senses the past few days. Maybe that was just indicative of the healing process and nothing more. Maybe it didn't have a thing in the world to do with Cord, per se. Yeah, right.

So, the bubble bath was out, but a long, quiet evening stretched out ahead of them. Cord was going to fix her dinner. Behind that offer was a surprising sensitivity to her exhaustion.