by Valery Parv
Safer? A frisson of anxiety rippled through her as she remembered the man Zeke had been concerned about, Jenny's husband, who was a midwife at the hospital. According to Zeke's research, he had turned out to have a history of mental instability. Did he know that Zeke was on to him? What did Zeke fear he might do?
Anger eclipsed Tara's fear. So he would call, would he? What was she supposed to do in the meantime? Sit by the phone until Zeke remembered her existence? He should have told her what was going on and given her the choice of staying or going with him. Typical, she fumed. He wasn't prepared to commit to her, but he was more than ready to take charge of her life. She felt her eyes widen. Was his behavior a commitment of sorts, perhaps speaking louder than words?
In a flash she recalled what he'd said last night. "You're a gift to me, Tara. I…" I—what? Love you? Her heart picked up speed. He hadn't said it and he wasn't going to, so why torment herself? But what if he had shown it in other ways and she had missed the signs?
She was back in the bedroom and throwing clothes on before the decision reached her conscious mind. It was still early. He had the same long drive back to Melbourne that she did, and she knew the road better. If she didn't waste time, and bent a few road rules along the way, she might manage to catch up with Zeke before he flew back to Sydney.
* * *
His flight was boarding by the time she tore along the walkway at Tullamarine Airport, the last passenger to make the flight that had been delayed by a further stroke of good luck. Having a well-known face had its advantages, and she had shamelessly used her celebrity status to talk her way, not only onto the flight but into a seat across the aisle from Zeke.
He was scanning the pages of the Melbourne Age and didn't see her take her seat. She refused the flight attendant's offer of a drink, and fastened her seat belt, her heart thumping as she waited for Zeke to notice her.
When he folded the paper and looked around, his expression turned thunderous. "What in blazes are you doing here?"
"Coming back to Sydney with you," she said demurely. "After last night I couldn't bear to stay on the island without you."
She had deliberately lifted her voice and heads turned their way. Zeke looked embarrassed and furious by turns. Some of the other passengers looked envious. "You have no idea what you've done," he growled.
"Oh, I have a good idea. I ache in places I didn't know I had muscles."
"You know I didn't mean that." The envy turned to smiles but Zeke's angry gaze swept the cabin. The faces swiftly disappeared behind newspapers and in-flight magazines. "My contact at the hospital stumbled over some misfiled documents that will help me nail the midwife."
"Shouldn't you let the police handle it?" While he stayed with her, she added silently, finding that his priorities hurt more than they had any business doing.
"My contact won't talk to anyone else. And with the midwife's history, I want to pin her down quickly. In her mental state, she could be capable of anything."
Tara felt her heart leap into her throat and touched his hand across the aisle, ignoring the heat that infused her touch. This was no time to let herself get sidetracked. "Wait a minute, the midwife you're looking for is a woman?"
He nodded. "Jenny Fine's sister-in-law, Rosemary. She was on duty at the hospital the night you were there. She was flouting medical ethics by delivering her sister-in-law's baby, but according to my source, she made a habit of bending the rules to suit herself. No one knew about her past history until Bill turned up R. Fine's psychiatric record."
Across the narrow aisle, Tara's fingers tightened around his arm. "Zeke, you could be looking for the wrong person. R. Fine could also be Jenny's husband, Ross. He's a midwife, too."
He recoiled visibly. "What? There's no record of a Ross Fine working at the Roses."
"Jenny said he used a different name because the hospital wouldn't allow two family members to work in the same ward. She said they needed his job because she'd had to give up hers to have the baby. She only confided in me because I was so scared when my doctor was delayed. She assured me her husband would look after me."
Zeke leaned closer, keeping his words between them. "If he's the one I think he is, he called himself Ross Crichton."
Recognition pulsated through her. "I'm sure that was his name."
"Some of the altered ward records carried his signature. He was only a small part of the operation, but he might lead us to the main players. His trail disappeared after he left the hospital, and I assumed he'd gone overseas."
"Then he could still be in Sydney."
He nodded. "Possibly working in another hospital under his real name."
"If he is the one with the psychiatric record, and he finds out you're on to him…"
"There's no telling what he might do."
Fear gripped Tara along with horror as she remembered the midwife who had delivered her baby. At the time, she had thought him distant but kind, apologizing for the absence of her doctor and assuring her she was in good hands. He had shown no sign that he was mentally unstable, or that he was involved in anything untoward.
When her baby hadn't cried at birth, Ross had reacted swiftly, hurrying the baby into an adjacent resuscitation room. On the verge of panic, Tara had never suspected the midwife's true nature. Or that if her son had been healthy instead of stillborn, he could have been among those stolen. It was hard to take in.
The businesswoman sitting next to Tara broke into her thoughts by leaning across her. "Would you and your friend like to sit together?"
Zeke didn't hesitate. He was out of his seat and beside Tara before the other woman had settled in his vacated seat. Tara moved to the window so he could have the aisle seat. As he took it and their thighs touched, her senses went into red alert. It had been easier to talk rationally with the width of the aisle between them.
"I don't think…" she began nervously.
His hand settled on her arm. "There's something else you should know."
The urgency in his voice was alarming enough but the pressure of his fingers set her nerves jangling. "Do you think Ross Fine might follow us?"
"I don't know where he'll turn up or even if he will," he repeated. "This is more personal. As of now we're married."
She stared at him. "Have you lost your mind? How can we be married?"
"We ran away to do the deed," he repeated firmly. "You're now Mrs. Tara Blaxland."
He had lost his mind. "Maybe a few more days off will help."
He rubbed his chin. He hadn't taken the time to shave before leaving the island, she noted. He looked fierce, piratical, capable of almost anything except marriage. Her pulse accelerated at the very idea. He gave a crooked half smile. "I know it sounds crazy. But Bill Ellison also told me my competitors have discovered that you had a baby at the Roses hospital at the time of the scandal. They're baying for blood."
"I suppose they're asking why you didn't mention me in your series?"
He nodded. "Thinking I'm covering up a personal angle on the story has made them dig deeper. They found out about the baby." He took a breath that shuddered slightly. "The timing of the delivery has convinced a couple of my colleagues that there's more to it than we're letting on."
Her fingers whitened around the seat arm. "They think you're looking for our baby." Without waiting for his response, she said, "You didn't want me with you because you expect them to be waiting for you at Mascot, don't you?"
"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry it's come to this."
"How will pretending we're married help?" Even saying the word in connection with Zeke felt peculiar but, she admitted to herself, it was dangerously attractive.
"It's the best diversion I can think of at short notice."
A bitter taste filled her mouth and she wished she had accepted the attendant's offer of orange juice. But she had also refused the meal tray, as had Zeke. She ran her tongue over her lips. Of all the ways she had ever imagined Zeke proposing to her, this wasn't one of them.
&nbs
p; "The hounds will be watching the incoming flights, ready to besiege us with questions. They'll want to know if you knew anything about the scandal before I broke the story, that kind of thing," he went on. "Brace yourself for one of them to ask if you think our baby could be alive and if so, where you think he might be."
She felt the color leave her face. "Oh, Zeke, no."
"I'm afraid so." He gave her a rueful look. "It's what I'd do in the same situation."
She shook her head in denial, having seen him at work. He was never deliberately hurtful if it could be avoided. "Do you think telling them we're married is enough of a diversion?"
"They're not expecting it. The surprise might buy us enough time to get out of the airport and come up with a better idea. If you agree?"
What choice did she have? She couldn't face discussing her lost child with a group of strangers thrusting microphones and cameras into her face. "I agree."
He removed a fine band of gold from the little finger of his right hand. It had belonged to his mother, she remembered, and was the only memento he had of the woman who had borne him. She may not have been the best of mothers, but he honored her memory, Tara knew. A tremor gripped her as he took her left hand and placed the ring on her wedding finger. "Looks pretty good, Mrs. Blaxland."
She felt her eyes brim, knowing she would give a lot to have this be real. It wasn't, she reminded herself over and over. It was convenient, that was all. She looked at the ring on her finger through a veil of moisture. "It fits well."
"My mother was about your size," he said distantly. "Did I tell you she was beautiful?"
"No, you never did." He had said very little about his mother, other than to tell Tara how she had surrendered him to foster care and claimed him back several times when he was little. "What was she like?"
"She never had any money so she bought clothes at charity places, but she made them look like a million dollars. I remember being proud of the way heads turned when we walked down the street and she was holding my hand. She said she was proud of me, too, but it only lasted until the novelty wore off."
She touched his arm. "Don't, Zeke. She loved you in her own way. She just wasn't a very good parent."
He nodded. "I always vowed I'd be different if I had children."
Her heart turned over. "I'm sure you would."
He half turned in his seat, shielding her from the other passengers with his body. "If we're married, shouldn't I kiss the bride?"
"Here?" She knew her alarm was more for herself than the people around them. With his ring on her finger, the gold still warm from his hand, she felt raw and vulnerable.
His warm gaze slid over her like honey dropped from a spoon. "You've obviously never heard of the Mile High Club."
She swallowed hard, showing that she had. He read her reaction as an invitation and wrapped an arm around her. Then his mouth found hers, hot, demanding, and so very sensuous that she felt the kiss all the way to her toes.
When he lifted his head, his eyes danced. "I can't wait for the honeymoon."
She tried to match his light tone. "I thought we had that yesterday."
His eyes darkened. "Honeymoon, wedding, proposal. Do you think we'll ever get the order right?"
Could he hear himself? She had never expected Zeke to use words such as wedding and honeymoon so casually, at least not where she was concerned. She couldn't bring herself to answer.
It was just as well. The plane began to make the approach to Sydney airport, and Zeke released her to fasten his seat belt. "We got married in Melbourne yesterday," he whispered. "Quiet ceremony, no fanfare."
"What church?" she asked frantically, wondering what she had agreed to. The other journalists were bound to check the facts and would soon find out they didn't hold up.
"If we don't mention one, it will take them longer to check," he said, anticipating her thought. "We can truthfully say we spent our wedding night on Phillip Island."
"Not quite what I had in mind," she said almost to herself. A bride wouldn't haven awoken to find the bed empty and the groom on his way back to Melbourne.
He gripped her hand. "I realize it's a rough deal. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
What part? she wanted to ask, but the plane jolted to a halt on the tarmac. A few minutes later they joined the other passengers streaming from the plane.
The carpeted walkway was clear ahead, but a crowd of people pressed against the doorway they would soon have to pass through. Flashbulbs popped as they approached and Tara instinctively huddled against Zeke. When he put a protective arm around her, the bulbs popped even more frantically. As soon as they stepped into the terminal, the questions began.
They were as uncompromising as Zeke had warned her, but she couldn't help flinching when she was asked about the baby. She made herself remain outwardly calm, needing all of her model's training to maintain a poised appearance while she was crying inside. Then a journalist asked her about the possibility that her baby was still alive, and her defenses threatened to crumble.
"Wait a minute, I have a scoop for you," Zeke said before she could answer. Looking at him, Tara wouldn't have guessed that any of this bothered him, until she saw a faint tightening around his eyes. She recalled how depleted he had looked when he arrived on the island and sensed that he held exhaustion at bay by sheer willpower. A day away from all this had helped, but she suspected the improvement was only surface-deep. He couldn't keep going indefinitely.
This must be as difficult for him as for her, but he said evenly, "Let me introduce my bride as of yesterday."
To Tara's astonishment his announcement had the desired effect, turning the questions in much safer directions and causing the journalists to scribble furiously or to check their recorders to make sure they captured every detail. Most of the photographers had melted away after the first few minutes, presumably to process the pictures they'd taken.
Zeke hadn't stopped moving, she was aware, forcing his colleagues to follow him like a swarm of bees. They had to spread out to fit on the escalators and by the time they reached the bottom, Bill Ellison was waiting for them. Zeke whispered that he had called from Melbourne and given Bill his flight number. Bill looked surprised to see her, too, but took it in stride.
"Luckily you only have carry-on baggage. We'd better hurry, I'm parked in the limo bay," Bill said, taking her arm and hustling her through sliding-glass doors.
By the time the journalists had recovered enough to realize they weren't heading for the baggage carousels, Bill was easing his car out into the traffic. Tara slumped in the back seat and gave Zeke a look of relief. His arm came around her.
He leaned forward. "Thanks for getting us out of there so fast, Bill."
The investigator's gaze was warm in the mirror. "Anytime, pal. What did you do to throw them off the scent?"
"I told them we were married."
"Nice touch." A beat. "You aren't, are you?"
"I'm not that fast a worker. And the topic is not open for discussion," he said, forestalling whatever Bill was about to say.
Zeke turned his attention to Tara. "Are you all right?"
She nodded. "A bit shaken. The questions were rather blunt."
"'In-depth' is the industry term, but they were rough even by my reckoning. You did well."
His praise lifted her spirits. "So did you, coming up with the marriage ruse."
"It worked for now, but we'll have to keep up the deception for a few days until the fuss dies down. Will it be a problem for you?"
For herself, she could keep it up forever, but since that word wasn't in his vocabulary, there was no point fantasizing. "I don't mind," she said, more frankly than he knew.
"If we don't want to tip them off that it's a sham, you'd better stay at my place."
"Or you could come to mine." She knew she'd feel a lot more comfortable on her home ground. Moving into Zeke's place was too reminiscent of their old relationship.
He shook his head. "I have the dog to co
nsider." Bill glanced at them in the mirror, following the discussion with obvious interest. "I could—"
"You could stay out of this," Zeke cut him off. She saw Bill give a suit-yourself shrug and wondered what that interchange was all about.
"Then you probably don't want to hear about the TV crew camped outside your place," Bill said with another lift of his shoulders.
Zeke groaned. "If I go near the hospital with that lot on my tail, my contact will run a mile."
"Speaking of running, Rosemary Fine has already done it. She was seen boarding a flight to Europe the day before yesterday."
Zeke swore quietly, plainly aggrieved that she had escaped justice for now. "We'll just have to hope the overseas authorities catch up with her," he said. "But she may not be the one we want." Quickly he told Bill what Tara had told him about Ross Fine.
It was the investigator's turn to swear. "Shows what comes of making assumptions. I stopped looking for any other R. Fine after we fingered Rosemary. At least now I know who I'm looking for, I should be able to connect Ross Crichton with the R. Fine in the psychiatric records."
"My source at the hospital can probably help, but I don't dare go near the place until things cool down."
Bill nodded agreement. "Maybe you should lie low for a few days."
"I don't have a choice." Zeke rubbed at his forehead. "I can't even go home without facing another barrage."
"What about a hotel?"
His expression cleared. "I have a better idea. Turn left at the next lights, Bill."
"Why not? I'm only the chauffeur."
Zeke tapped his friend's shoulder. "Put it on my account."
"If I did that every time you needed a favor, you'd be flat broke."
Tara felt a flash of envy as she listened to their easy banter. They were obviously long-standing friends and for a moment she wished—no, she wasn't going to start dreaming again. The kind of friendship they had wouldn't suit her with Zeke, but she was afraid it was all she was ever going to get.