The Baby Trail (Baby Bonds #2)

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Have you known my daughter long?” Russ asked Garrett.

  “Just a week. We’re working on that case together.”

  “I thought maybe she asked you to help her because she’d known you for a while.”

  “I think she found me in the Yellow Pages,” Garrett joked.

  “I heard you own your own plane—a Cessna Skyhawk. Is that true?”

  Garrett had the feeling Russ had been trying to find out more about him since they’d met at Gwen’s. “It was my dad’s.”

  “How did you lose him?” Russ asked.

  “Pancreatic cancer.” The disease had taken his dad fast, much faster than Garrett had ever expected. He wished he’d gone to L.A. to spend more time with him. But there had been work…and Cheryl. As it was, he’d gotten there just in time…just in time to say a last goodbye.

  Conversations ebbed and flowed around them as Russ let Garrett alone with his thoughts for a few moments. Then he said, “I did some flying in the service—in Nam.”

  “Tell me about it,” Garrett encouraged, wanting to find out more about this man who’d played a crucial role in Gwen’s upbringing.

  As Garrett listened to some of Russ’s experiences, he realized he liked Gwen’s dad, who in some ways reminded him of his own father. Glancing at his watch, he saw they’d been talking about twenty minutes and Gwen still hadn’t returned to the table.

  “The band is about ready to start,” Garrett remarked, nodding toward the stage. “I’m going to see if I can find your daughter.”

  “I’m hoping my date will get here pretty soon, too. It’s been a long time since I danced with a woman. I’m going to enjoy this.”

  If Garrett didn’t corral Gwen, he had a feeling one person after another would monopolize her for the rest of the night.

  A few minutes later, he spotted her at the food table and joined her there. “I thought you got lost.”

  “You and Dad seemed to be engrossed in conversation.”

  “He was talking about Vietnam.”

  “Dad never talks about Vietnam.”

  Garrett shrugged, “Maybe just not to you. Since he flew and I fly—”

  Gwen gave him a smile that was strained. “It’s nice to find common ground.”

  Since he was used to sincerity from Gwen, he knew he wasn’t getting it now. Taking the plate of cookies from her hand, he set it on the table, took her arm and pulled her behind a stack of hay bales.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked with a forced smile.

  “If you and your dad are at odds, I don’t want to step into something I have no right to step into.”

  “We’re not at odds. In spite of myself and knowing I shouldn’t, I want to help him too much. I want to ask if he’s still attending meetings…regularly speaking with his sponsor…exercising…eating right.”

  Knowing he probably shouldn’t interfere, he did, anyway. “I know Vietnam left deep wounds in lots of vets. Could he have post-traumatic stress and flashbacks that added to the drinking problem?”

  This time she wasn’t so quick to answer. “I don’t think so,” she admitted. “But then—” With a sigh, she said in a low voice, “Maybe my mother leaving was a trigger. I never thought about it that way. I knew after she left, I had to take over everything—from cooking to balancing the checkbook as soon as I was old enough to worry about bills. I took care of Dad when he couldn’t take care of himself. I made sure we had groceries. He managed to work on and off and kept a roof over our heads. But bills stacked up. We’d lose electricity or the telephone. I thought I was helping him by doing things for him. When I was at college, I felt guilty for feeling free. Yet I went home often to make sure he was functioning. And he was to a certain extent. After I graduated, I lived with him because I thought he needed looking after. One weekend he binged and didn’t come home for three days. That’s when I went to counseling and an Al-Anon meeting.”

  Garrett saw the sheen of tears in her eyes as she blinked fast. “On the advice of my counselor, I practiced tough love with him. Nothing in my life has ever been so hard. I told him if he was going to drink himself into a grave, I wasn’t going to be around to watch.”

  Bravery took many forms and Garrett realized just how brave this woman had been. “Since he’s alive and well, tough love must have worked.”

  “I think it did. I hope it did. But when I don’t hear from him for a day or two, I’m afraid he’s slipped back.”

  The band started playing and Garrett had to bend his head low to hers so she could hear him. “There’s an old adage, what we fear, we create.”

  “Because I’m afraid he’ll fall off the wagon, he will? Apparently you’ve never lived with an alcoholic.” The tears were gone now and she looked angry.

  She would have walked away from him, but he found he couldn’t let her. Catching her hand, he pulled her back to their private corner. “I’m sorry if I sounded…patronizing. I didn’t mean it to come out that way. Yet if you’re watching him every second for signs of a fall, don’t you think he can feel that? Don’t you think that makes him wonder, too?”

  When she didn’t respond yet didn’t move away, he nodded to where the folks were gathering to dance. “Come on. Two-step with me.”

  She studied him intently for a few moments and he knew she was trying to gauge what kind of man he was. If his ex-wife could answer that question, she’d tell Gwen he was a selfish SOB who’d put his job before his family. But Gwen must have seen something different, or maybe just decided dancing was better than talking.

  With a half smile, she responded, “I’d like that.”

  The space cleared for dancing was crowded with couples who knew how to two-step. Gwen wasn’t prepared for the heady, climb-to-the-mountaintop sensations that overwhelmed her as Garrett took her into his arms. This man rattled her but he also unlocked deep, womanly feelings she had kept in a sealed cache since she was left alone at the church to explain Mark’s desertion to their wedding guests. On the other hand, maybe she’d sealed that cache long before that.

  Although she tried to concentrate on the steps, rather than Garrett’s hard, tall body, his muscled arms, the scent of lime aftershave, she found herself way too distracted to keep her feet in step. Once she almost tripped but he caught her, twirled her in a circle and resumed the pattern of the two-step.

  “You’re good,” she breathed.

  Nothing seemed to unnerve him. His eyes were deep gray and there was a sensual storm building there that had to do with a man and woman dancing, attracted to each other, yet trying to deny chemistry that was definitely there.

  They danced one dance after another, Garrett leading her in more intricate steps each time, adding more twirls. He had a natural rhythm she envied. They didn’t talk and she found herself breathless, not from the dancing, but from him.

  “Would you like to take a break?” he asked her after they participated in a round of square dancing. Do-si-do with Garrett gave new meaning to the term.

  “It is getting hot in here,” she said, fanning herself with her hand and pushing her hair behind her ear.

  With that slow enigmatic smile of his that made her knees wobble, he beckoned her to follow him. Heading to the rear of the barn, opposite the entrance where they’d come in, he led her through a side door.

  “Do you need your shawl?” he asked as a breeze brushed them.

  “I’m fine,” she replied although the cool end of September night air gave her chills. She shivered.

  “Why do women say they’re fine when they’re not?” he muttered, and she had to laugh.

  “You’ve had experience with that?”

  “Way too much. Come on.” Leading her away from the flood lights and the music and the chatter, he headed toward a smaller barn. Lifting the latch, he opened the door.

  “Won’t Mr. Wilkins mind if we go in here?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know Ted Wilkins?” She was beginning to see Garrett didn’t give information unless
she prodded him for it.

  “His son sold me my log home, so Ted knows I won’t steal his horses.”

  There were six stalls and three of them were filled.

  A bay softly neighed, welcoming them. A yellow tabby suddenly appeared at Gwen’s feet and wrapped itself around her legs. Smiling, she stooped and picked it up. The cat purred as she rubbed it under the chin. It looked young if size were an indication. Not a kitten, but not yet an adult.

  “I thought about getting a cat,” she mused.

  “Why haven’t you?”

  “Because I’m away from the house so much. It just doesn’t seem fair to have a pet and not spend time with it.”

  “Cats are independent, at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Even independent creatures need someone to pet them and love them and just sit with them.”

  “Are you speaking from experience?”

  Her attention drawn from the cat with his words, she looked up and wished she hadn’t. He saw entirely too much.

  Lowering the tabby to the floor, she protested, “I wasn’t projecting.”

  “No?”

  His raised brows irritated her. “No. I’m perfectly content with my life.”

  “You don’t need someone to pet you and keep you company?” His voice was low and seductive and she found herself being honest with him.

  “Sometimes I wish I had someone to hold me at night.”

  “Just hold you?”

  When he brought his hand to her face, she couldn’t look away. She couldn’t move. She could only feel the excitement stirred up by being around him.

  His calloused thumb traced her cheekbone. “You are one beautiful woman.”

  Had anyone told her she was beautiful before?

  The cynic in her made her wonder if Garrett was feeding her flattery. Yet what she already knew about him told her he wasn’t that type of man. She felt herself sinking into his gray eyes, allowed her body to hum with the anticipation vibrating between them, saw hunger that frightened her yet challenged her. Garrett Maxwell raised so much curiosity inside of her that she almost keened with it. Would his lips be hot? Would his tongue be rough? Would his kiss be ordinary this time or extraordinary like their first? Could he turn on the tap of passion she’d only ever dreamed about but never experienced?

  Garrett cupped her face in both of his large calloused hands, tipped her chin up and murmured, “I’ve dreamed of doing this again.”

  The fact that this attraction definitely wasn’t one-sided almost made her grin. But then his lips captured hers and the roller-coaster sensation she always felt with him excited her until she lost all sense of time and place. There was more raw need in Garrett’s kiss than finesse. It took less than a moment for his lips to part, for his tongue to slip into her mouth. Not only were his lips hot, but his tongue was erotically talented. Every spot it found seemed vulnerable, and she lifted her arms around his neck and pressed closer to him. When her breasts pushed against his chest, he groaned, slid his hands down her back and pressed her tighter to him.

  Kisses usually escalated in steps from slow to fast, from simple to complex, from hunger and desire to full-blown need. With this kiss, she could almost feel the whoosh as they bypassed the beginning of easy and simple and headed straight for the heart of the fire.

  Where did a kiss go from here?

  Garrett didn’t seem to have any problem figuring that out. His lower body against hers told her exactly where he was going. The heck of it was she wanted to follow him, even if just for a little while.

  There was a hush in the barn that was as intimate as a bedroom. Country music floated in the distance as an owl hooted, but the sound fit in rather than jarred her. She was even more aware of her heart pounding along with Garrett’s. Excitement building between them, his hands dipped down to her backside and before she knew what he was about, he was gathering her skirt and lifting it. She’d worn panty hose tonight but nothing seemed to deter him as his hands slipped inside her panties and cupped her. She thought she’d explode. His caresses were so intimate…so personal…so knowing.

  Yet he didn’t know her and she didn’t know him. What in the blue blazes was she doing? The rate this was going, their clothes soon would be on the floor and they’d be rolling in the hay.

  How did she get out of this one with her dignity intact?

  First she stopped responding to his kiss, then she arched her body, putting a little space between them.

  That’s all it took. Apparently Garrett was the type of man who knew how to read signals. He could tell she was shutting down.

  He pulled his hands free and let her skirt fall. When she looked at him, he wore an expression she couldn’t decipher. She had a feeling he was practiced at the neutral look, and it had been a tool of his work. She guessed he’d used it often in his personal life, too.

  She told herself again, she didn’t really know him.

  “Should I apologize for that?” he asked gruffly, the only indication they’d been doing something other than talking.

  “Do you want to?”

  After studying her, he smiled. “Hell, no.” Then his smile slipped away. “But you’re not the type of woman who would enjoy a quickie in the barn, are you?”

  She wasn’t exactly sure what to say to that. “I didn’t think so before tonight. Do you do this…” she waved at where they were standing “…often?”

  “Since my divorce, I’ve been more celibate than satisfied. And I have to be honest with you, Gwen, there’s a reason for that. I don’t intend to take on the responsibility of marriage ever again. I don’t believe in the illusion of forever vows. Forever doesn’t exist for me. And I have a feeling you’re still looking for it. That’s probably why this shouldn’t happen again.”

  “Maybe you’re wrong.”

  “A quickie in a barn is fine with you? No regrets afterward? No dreams of wedding veils or honeymoons?”

  Her answer must have shown on her face.

  “You’re transparent, Gwen.”

  Angry now as well as defensive, she responded, “And you’ve got a monumental ego. I’ve known you about five minutes. Why would I be thinking about a wedding veil? Or even a romp in the hay with you?”

  He tapped her nose. “I was speaking hypothetically. Let’s go back to the square dancing and work off some of this energy.”

  “Only if we dance in different squares,” she grumbled.

  At that, Garrett Maxwell gave a hearty laugh. He was laughing at her and she didn’t like it one bit.

  When Garrett saw Gwen rocking little Amy in the hospital nursery the following Thursday, he felt as if he’d been poleaxed. Something about the picture made his breaths come hard and his chest tighten.

  What had happened Saturday night in the barn should have kept him away from here…and away from Gwen. Yet she was the one who had started him on this search. She was the one who in some sense of the word, had “hired” him. She deserved to know what he’d found and what he was going to do next.

  Gwen spied him through the window and gave him a “just a minute” sign.

  Checking his watch, he knew her lunch hour was about over and she’d have to leave the hospital soon.

  When Gwen stood, cuddling Amy in her arms, Garrett turned away. He’d given up on the idea of having kids. In his book that would require a wife. And what did he know about being a good husband? His own dad had been a poor role model. As a pilot, he’d hardly ever been home, and Garrett suspected more than flying an aircraft went on when he was gone. He’d heard his parents arguing. He’d heard his mother’s pleas for his father to settle down, open his own air cargo company so he could stay local. His father, at those times, had told Garrett’s mom he’d think about it, but he never had. His lifestyle had suited him and he hadn’t wanted to change it.

  Garrett had seen that. Maybe he’d been taught a man’s career should come first. When he’d met Cheryl, he hadn’t given a second thought to what he did for a living. Afte
r all, he’d been an agent for five years when he’d met her, and the idea his job would be a problem had never even crossed his mind. It hadn’t seemed to bother her, either, until after they were married…until he got work-related calls in the middle of the night and on weekends…until she decided she wanted a baby.

  He glanced back over his shoulder into the nursery and was sorry he did. Gwen was leaning down into the little crib, placing a kiss on the baby’s forehead.

  Damn, he shouldn’t be here. He should have told Gwen he couldn’t take her case. He should have dropped this whole situation like a hot poker.

  When Gwen stepped out of the nursery, he could see she didn’t know whether to smile or frown at him. After their make-out session in the barn, they’d joined separate squares to dance. On their way home, conversation had been awkward, what little there had been of it.

  “I called your cell phone, but got your voice mail,” he said in explanation of why he was here.

  “I can’t have it on in the hospital. What’s happened?”

  “I have the names of the women who bought the yarn in the shop in Laramie. I’m going to fly there tomorrow.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “Gwen, there’s no reason for you to go with me.”

  “There’s every reason for me to go with you. Amy’s going into foster care tomorrow. This is probably the last time I’ll hold her. I want her mother found.”

  “You don’t think I can do that? Isn’t that why you hired me?”

  Instead of answering that directly, she returned with, “Aren’t two sets of eyes and ears better than one? And maybe being back in Laramie, my memory will become clearer about the young girls I talked to there.”

  “That’s a long shot.”

  “Maybe it is, but it’s one I feel I have to take.” Then she squared her shoulders and defiantly looked up at him. “Is there some reason you don’t want me to go with you? Maybe your plane only holds one person?”