Shotgun Baby

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  When Stan and Susan called, inviting them to Sedona on Saturday, Robbie jumped at the opportunity to get out of the house, to dispel some of the intimacy between her and Con. She was committed to her life with him, wanted it even. She was just going to need a little time to get over her love for him.

  And he was going to need a night out now and then.

  Nothing they couldn’t handle.

  The baby was asleep even before they hit the high-way Saturday morning. He looked adorable in his baby-size blue-jean shorts and matching slugger shirt, his tiny face dimpled, even in sleep. He definitely had his daddy’s chin. His new diaper bag, on the seat beside him, was stuffed with two more outfits and enough supplies to last them a week.

  Con drove silently, his face a mask. Robbie wondered if he was happy—or at least his version of happy. Was he satisfied with the way things were working out?

  “You getting anxious to get back to work?” she asked.

  She hated not knowing what he was thinking, not knowing where she stood. Hated the lines she wasn’t allowed to cross. Hated being dependent on him for any part of her emotional security.

  He shrugged.

  “There’s not some case you’re dying to crack? Some heathen to bring to justice?”

  “There’re always cases.”

  Her heart sank. Where was the man with a mission? The one who’d finally found a measure of peace with himself fifteen years before when he’d gone to work as a government agent?

  The change in Con over the past couple of years really frightened her. She sometimes wondered if she was going to lose him completely to the purgatory that he’d forced himself to live in.

  “Why don’t you get out, Con?” she asked, unable to let it go. “No one said you had to be an agent . forever.”

  “It’s what I know.”

  She fiddled with the hem of her cutoffs. “But you hate it, don’t you? Ever since that Ramirez deal last year.”

  “I’m good at it.”

  “You’d be good at anything you put your mind to.”

  He continued to drive, saying nothing, the cords in his neck tightening.

  “It scares me to see what’s happening to you,” she said, daring to tread where she knew he didn’t want her. But someone had to. “You used to take pride in your work. But now it’s more like you hate yourself for doing it.”

  “I’m fine. Leave it.” His voice had an edge of steel.

  “Right.”

  They drove silently for miles. Robbie kept telling herself to let it go, to think about Joey, about their future. About being part of a family, instead of living alone.

  “How are you going to love Joey if you can’t love yourself?” she finally said into the stillness.

  “I care for him just fine.”

  “Caring’s not love, Con. Caring’s lukewarm, detached. He needs total commitment.”

  “I’m committed.”

  She needed to holler at him, except that their baby was sleeping right behind them.

  “We need your love, Con,” she said, too upset to mind her words.

  But he minded them. Plenty. “We?” he said, his voice hard, filled with ice. “You know my limits, Rob. You’ve always known them. I told you a long time ago that I’d never be that knight you were looking for.”

  What he’d told her was that he didn’t believe in love. “You were just a kid then.”

  “I was never really a kid.”

  Anger swept through Robbie, anger at the life he’d had, the circumstances that had drained him of the things everyone needs—faith and hope and love. And anger at him, too.

  “You want to be loved, Randolph. You’ve always wanted to be loved. Everybody does.”

  “Leave it, Rob,” he said wearily.

  “And what’s more, you’ve got a little boy sitting back there who’s going to idolize the ground you walk on,” she continued, not even pausing for breath. “He’s going to love you. And he’s going to need your love in return. If you break his heart, you’ll be no better than the people who broke yours.”

  He didn’t say a word, just kept driving, jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder he didn’t crack his teeth. She thought about what he’d said to the judge on Monday, about a kid deserving and needing to belong without having to earn the right. What he’d really been talking about was needing to be loved— unconditionally. He’d spent his entire childhood trying to earn that kind of love from anyone who might have some to spare. And he’d failed. Every time. Except with her. But that was the one place he’d never looked.

  “It’s time to quit running scared, Con,” she said, her heart softening as she watched him. “It’s time to allow the possibility that love is real. Because the only way you’re going to get it or be able to give it is to believe it’s there.”

  Con sent her a look that sparked real fear. Fear for him. For all of them. “You done?” he asked.

  She wasn’t reaching him. “Yeah.”

  So where did they go from there?

  THE SKY CLOUDED OVER while Stan was cooking steaks on the grill. By the time they were eating dessert, winds were whipping across the land at well over seventy miles an hour, throwing debris across the yard and against the windows of the house.

  “You can’t drive home in this,” Susan said, glancing worriedly out the dining-room window. She was holding Joey, sneaking him spoonfuls of her vanilla ice cream.

  Robbie glanced at Con, There was no way they could stay. Her parents only had one spare bedroom. And Susan thought their marriage was normal.

  But they’d be foolish to drive into the middle of a monsoon, to risk Joey’s life. “If we had my truck—”

  “We’ll stay,” he said, pushing his unfinished apple pie à la mode away. He didn’t look any happier about the prospect than she did.

  THOUGH STAN WAS strangely reluctant, Susan was delighted to have her family stay over. She fussed over them, producing a couple of toothbrushes, putting fresh sheets on the queen-size bed in the guest room, even though Robbie was certain the ones she replaced were clean. And she gave Robbie a nightgown—silk, with spaghetti straps and lace.

  The baby was asleep in the middle of the queensize bed and Con was in the bathroom, giving her time, Robbie knew, to get herself safely under the covers. Her nerves already on edge, the feel of the nightgown as she moved almost sent her out of her skin. The silk skimmed sensuously across her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, leaving a pool of warmth in its wake.

  Why couldn’t it have been a flannel nightgown?

  She was considering changing back into her overalls, sleeping in her clothes, when she heard the bath-room door open down the hall. Diving for the bed, she snuggled close to Joey, pulling the covers up to her chin. Her problem didn’t really lie with the nightgown. She could be wearing galoshes and a winter coat, and she’d still be nervous about sleeping with Con. It just wasn’t smart.

  Her eyes were squeezed shut when he entered the room. She was incredibly aware of him—the sounds he made, the tangy smell of his aftershave. She couldn’t risk looking at him, too. Not here. Not now.

  “He still asleep?” Con asked softly, closing the door behind him.

  “Uh-huh.” She kept her voice low, as though she was almost asleep herself.

  “You want me to sleep on the floor?”

  And admit that she was the least bit tempted by him? After she’d assured him that she no longer had any interest in his kind of sex? “Of course not. The bed’s big enough for three,” she said.

  The light went out and the covers rustled as he pulled them back and climbed in on Joey’s other side. He was lying in the same bed with her. For the very first time.

  Robbie was almost afraid to breathe, to attract his attention, holding herself stiffly so she wouldn’t risk running into him somewhere on the mattress. She had no idea what he was wearing—or if he was wearing anything.

  “Good night,” he said, the words clipped.

  “Night.”

  Ten
minutes later her muscles were cramped from her frozen position, and Con was sound asleep. For once Robbie envied him his control. He issued an edict to sleep, and he slept. She had a feeling she was still going to be awake when the sun rose.

  But eventually, lulled by the even breathing of her new son, of her recalcitrant husband, finding comfort in their nearness, she slept.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HER LEG WAS WARM and silky smooth against his foot. He traveled the length of it with his toes, inching under the silk that covered her at midthigh and then making a return journey. Only to begin again. His hand found her curved hip beneath the covers and cupped it, moving a little lower to squeeze her thigh. The warmth between her legs tempted him, lured him to delve further. She was more woman than any woman he’d ever had.

  Her body shifted, angled so that her hips were just inches away from his straining groin. He knew he should stop. He just couldn’t remember why. At the moment nothing seemed more important than his body finding solace inside Robbie’s.

  When her fingers found his penis, caressing his length, he knew they’d come too far to stop.

  He pulled away and sat up.

  “Con?” Her whispered word was an invitation— and a plea.

  “Let me move him,” he whispered back, sliding his arms carefully beneath the baby sleeping soundly between them. They had another hour before Joey would wake up for breakfast.

  Con had Joey ensconced in the middle of the love seat across the room, pillows packed firmly around him and on the floor beneath him, and was back in the bed in a flash.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, telling himself he was being noble even while his hands moved over her body, distracting her.

  “Yes.” Her soft acquiescence was filled with the same ache that was driving him. He needed her too much to care about right or wrong. To care whose house he was in or think about promises he’d made— and already broken. She was willing. He was going to take her.

  He was only wearing briefs, and he quickly stripped them off, then did likewise with Robbie’s nightgown. Her breasts seemed to beg for his touch and he was only too willing to comply. He sought the tiny scar that was all that was left of Robbie’s run-in with Blackwell’s dog, first with his finger and then with his lips, kissing it better before moving on. Her breasts were smooth and full, enticing him to taste. She was all woman. His woman.

  And then, before he could reflect on that thought, on the fact that he’d even had that thought, he mounted her.

  “I love you,” she murmured, gazing up at him.

  Con froze. This wasn’t about love. It had nothing to do with love. It was sex. Plain and simple.

  “I’m not asking you to love me back,” she said. “But I can’t do this the way you want to, Con. I can’t hold back the most important part.”

  He rolled off her and off the bed in one movement, her words like a bucket of ice water thrown on his body. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” he said, grabbing the shorts and shirt he’d worn the day before and heading for the shower. She couldn’t love him. He couldn’t let her.

  Because while he could give her his body, he couldn’t give her his heart. He didn’t have one.

  ROBBIE HAD NO IDEA how she made it through break-fast with her parents, thankful only that it couldn’t be a leisurely meal as Stan and Susan were on their way to church. And since she and Con only had the clothes they’d worn up the day before, they couldn’t accompany them. They were back on the road to Phoenix by eight o’clock.

  Con hadn’t driven five miles before he turned off onto a secluded dirt road. Joey, who’d fallen asleep almost as soon as they’d put him in his car seat, didn’t budge when the car came to a stop beside a couple of evergreen trees.

  Robbie’s heart sped up, afraid of what was coming.

  With one arm along the back of the seat, Con turned to look at her, his eyes serious.

  “I can give you my protection,” he said. “You’re welcome to whatever money and possessions I’ve accumulated, whatever comes in the future. I can give you my body, and my loyalty…”

  Robbie’s heart was breaking as she sat there and listened to him. Because she knew what was coming. Knew what he would not be including in that list. Knew that no matter what he offered her, it was never going to be enough.

  “I need love, Con,” she said softly, the words sticking in her throat. “Your love.” There was no hiding from it any longer, no more pretending he wasn’t aware of how she felt about him. She just wasn’t strong enough for both of them.

  “You’re welcome to everything I have, Rob.”

  “Yes, you said—all your possessions, your body and your loyalty. Thanks, but it’s not enough, Con. I need your love, your heart.”

  He stared at her silently for a moment, his lips moving without sound. “It’s gone,” he finally said.

  And for the first time Robbie believed him. Not because she didn’t still think that Con was capable of loving someone, but because he truly believed he wasn’t.

  “It withered away, little by little, Rob,” he continued. “Until I woke up one day and just didn’t feel it there anymore. And you know what?”

  She shook her head.

  “It was a relief.”

  Robbie had never heard anything sadder in her life. She was bone-deep sad, too sad even for tears.

  “I can’t live like that,” she whispered. “I thought maybe I could, but I can’t.” The blue sky and sunshine outside the car was filled with promises, with brightness and hope. She looked out, trying desperately to find a thread of that hope, to keep believing, but nothing happened. Her heart was as dark as the night had been.

  He didn’t say a word. He just sat there, watching her. Waiting.

  “I’ll stay with you until the custody hearing, until we’re sure Joey’s yours, but that’s it.” She’d make it through the next six months. Somehow.

  And then she’d find a way to leave him, find a way to care for Joey like any other divorced parent. Because if she didn’t, she was going to end up just like Con—a walking corpse.

  “OK, LITTLE MAN, today we decide what we’re going to do with the rest of Daddy’s life.” Con lifted his son off the changing table, talking to him as had become his habit in the past three days. Robbie had returned to work the day after they’d come back from Sedona, leaving Con alone with the baby.

  “The month’s up. I’m due back at the office to-morrow. And you, my boy, get to go to day care.”

  He wasn’t overjoyed about Joey being in day care, but there was little choice. The baby gave him a happy toothless grin, cooing and gurgling. Con took the response to mean that the boy understood every word. He put Joey into the denim baby carrier he’d bought on Monday, his first day alone with the child, when it had seemed like he. wasn’t going to accomplish anything the entire day. Then, strapping the pack to his back, he got the vacuum cleaner out of the closet.

  “The work I do in law enforcement is important. I’m good at it,” he said, plugging in the cord, then turning on the switch. “It might give you something to be proud of someday—before you find out what a louse your old man really is.” The hum of the cleaner drowned out his words.

  The telephone rang a few minutes later and Con turned off the vacuum. The baby was pulling his hair.

  “Randolph,” he barked into the phone. Robbie wouldn’t be calling. She was avoiding him as much as possible. And there wasn’t anyone else he wanted to talk to.

  “Hello, Mr. Randolph. This is Karen Smith.”

  Especially not her.

  “Yeah?”

  “I just wanted to let you know we’ve heard from Joey’s mother again, sir, and she says she doesn’t need to set up visits with Joey.”

  “She’s relinquishing her rights?”

  “She didn’t say that, sir, only that something else has come up and she wouldn’t need to be setting up any visits.”

  Con didn’t like the sound of that. “Is this common?” he as
ked, grateful for the weight of the boy on his back. Joey was with him. He was safe.

  “To be honest, no, it isn’t. But Cecily’s a little…different. All I can tell you is she sounded happy. And if there’s no more contact from her, I suspect the judge will waive the six-month waiting period to give you and your wife permanent custody.”

  “Good. Great,” Con said, his mind racing. He’d move mountains to know that Joey’s future was secure. And to be able to free Robbie to get on with her life, to learn whether he’d really destroyed her optimism as it seemed, or if, once she was away from him, she’d regain it. He’d give anything to make her happy again, and Karen’s news was a big step in the right direction.

  So why wasn’t he overjoyed?

  ROBBIE GOT the unenviable job of dropping Joey off at the day-care center the next morning. She and Con had chosen the place together, weeks before, and both were confident it was the best facility Scottsdale had to offer, but it was still a wrench to leave the baby with strangers again. She wished Con was with her. He’d have made the whole thing seem so commonplace with his unemotional logic. But he’d been called in to the office at six that morning. Apparently some information had come in during the night, and Con’s men had needed his expert assessment before formulating a game plan.

  His job was the one thing they’d been able to talk about with any normalcy the night before. Con had finally figured out that he didn’t do his job just because he was good at it or because it was the one thing that had ever made him feel good about himself; he did it because he liked the work. Or most of it. But it was time for him to get out of the field. To take one of the many promotions they’d offered him over the years and do what he did best—plan. Strategize. And leave the fieldwork to guys who’d seen a little less, who still had some illusions, who hadn’t had the heart sucked out of them.

  “I’ll be back for you lickety-split, little buddy,” she said, kissing the baby as she unbuckled his seat from her truck, making certain that his security blanket was tucked beside him. “Mommy just has one story to write up and then we’ll do lunch. How does that sound?” she asked. Joey grinned at her and shoved his fist in his mouth.