A waltz played by the school’s famed band broke into his thoughts. The strains wafted through the air as one of the cadets gave them a voucher and parked their car. Jeff helped Chelsea by carrying the stroller up the steps into the brick gymnasium.
Carpets had been rolled out along the gymnasium floor, and tables set with orchid-and-miniature-ivy centerpieces surrounded the elaborate buffet of gleaming silver dishes on the finest lace cloth. Crystal flutes stood waiting to be filled by uniformed cadets. Bottles of champagne cooled in sterling ice buckets. For those who preferred hard liquor, an open bar stood discreetly under the raised basketball backboard. Toward the front of the gym, where the band played, a dais with a lectern and microphones waited for the speeches to come.
They were early, and the room remained relatively empty, although some guests had started to arrive. Chelsea waved to one of her employees, but headed toward a side room off to the left marked Coach. “Mark said Alex should be fine in here.”
“You don’t think you’re overdoing the protectivemother bit?” Jeff teased, wondering if she could hear the admiration in his tone.
“I didn’t want to leave Alex at home.”
“You just don’t look motherly in that dress,” he added, enjoying the blush that rose to her cheeks. She looked fantastic. Her eyes sparkled, and it took all his control not to kiss her senseless. Every man in the room would be staring at her, and he’d have to be careful not to deck one of them. As much as he was beginning to wish otherwise, he reminded himself Chelsea was not his.
Wearing a sequined spaghetti-strapped black dress and matching jacket that hugged her curves and seemed to change colors as she walked, she looked drop-dead gorgeous. Her hair, arranged in an elegant French twist, revealed the fine lines of her neck and emphasized her high cheekbones. He’d been anticipating this night all week long, eager to see Chelsea decked out in her finest clothes to savor her business triumph. But it was her shimmering eyes dancing with excitement that made accompanying her a pleasure.
Jeff held open the door to the coach’s office. Chelsea rolled Alex into the room and greeted the woman from foster care. “Hi. Thanks for agreeing to watch Alex on such short notice.”
Ms. Kilcuddy’s booming voice greeted them with enthusiasm. “I’m glad for the extra time with the little one.” From behind her glasses, she took in the three of them. “And aren’t you all looking mighty fine. Chelsea, dear, I wouldn’t haven’t recognized you and the handsome doctor. You’re a far sight prettier without that bandage on your head.”
“Jeff removed my stitches today.” She pushed Alex’s stroller into the cozy office, bent and retrieved a bag stowed behind the baby’s seat. “Here’s formula and diapers, a change of clothes, toys and a blanket.”
“Now don’t you worry none, dear. I’ve been watching little darlings all my life. I like Alex and he likes me.” Ms. Kilcuddy shooed her on her way. “You go on and have a good time.”
Vanessa, the red-haired copy editor, stuck her head around the door. “Ms. Connors?”
“Coming,” Chelsea replied.
Jeff placed his hand lightly on the small of her back, a gesture he’d been anticipating since he’d first seen her in that dress. Of course, touching her back wasn’t all he wanted to do. Her upswept hair left him a clear path to her neck, and he imagined planting a slew of tiny kisses from her collarbone to her earlobe.
Only one part of her outfit jarred him—the tiny black-and-gold ornaments dangling from her ears. There was nothing wrong with her earrings. He’d just have preferred seeing her in his grandmother’s diamonds. The sparkling heirlooms would have matched the glimmer in her eyes, but the earrings represented more than jewelry to Jeff. Even lending her the diamonds would have marked her as his—a commitment he’d vowed not to make. Yet for all his determination to leave the earrings in the vault, every time he glanced at Chelsea, he imagined them on her ears.
“Mr. Lindstrom wanted you to know they’re almost ready for the introductions,” Vanessa chattered without once looking her in the eye. “Mick is fussing that someone bent the corner of his art, but I think he’s just showing off for that graphic-designer friend of his. And Walter is looking so sad—he didn’t bring a date. I think some woman stood him up.”
Jeff looked over Vanessa’s head at Chelsea. “I think I’ll get a drink. Want anything?”
“A club soda. Thanks. I’ve a feeling I’ll need a clear head tonight.”
“I’ve seen you in action. You’ll be fine.”
Jeff winked and Chelsea caught her breath as desire struck her core. He looked so handsome m a suit and tie, the dark navy serge highlighting those intelligent eyes. All week he’d kept his word. There had been no shared kisses, no caresses, not even a hug. Just as he’d promised, he given her a roof over her head and more than enough room to think about him.
And she was just as confused now as the first time he’d hinted that a commitment between them was impossible. She’d tried to keep busy with work and Alex. She should be exhausted. Instead, she felt wound up tighter than a top set to spin into orbit.
The tension simmering all week had suddenly reached the boiling point. Tonight sizzling attraction had erupted, making her aware of Jeff’s every admiring glance, the huskiness in his tone, the jaunty I’ll-catch-up-with-you-later gleam she saw in his eyes before he walked away from her.
Pushing thoughts of Jeff aside with difficulty, she hurried for a last-minute word with her employees. Vanessa slipped into the crowd. The room had quickly filled with guests, but Chelsea easily spied Mick in his yellow velveteen tux. The art director was smoothing out a bent corner of the art, and she expected him to fuss.
Instead, Mick discreetly led her aside, his limp still distinct, and whispered in her ear, “The press is buzzing. They sense something’s up. I’d suggest making the announcement as soon as possible before they pry it out of one of us.”
Chelsea nodded. “Thanks, Mick. Have you seen Sandy?”
Her art director frowned. “She was looking for you.”
“Not to worry, I’ll find her.”
Mark Lindstrom emerged from the crowd, handsome in his spotless gray dress uniform decorated with multicolored ribbons. “There are a few people I’d like you to meet.”
While the reporters milled at the entrance, waiting to snap questions at the arriving military brass, Mark introduced her to members of Benedict Academy’s board of directors. Chelsea smiled and reassured the gentlemen they would be happy with their decision to admit women after they saw the school’s increased enrollment. She praised them for their modern ideas, all the while keeping her eye out for her employees.
She saw Walter Brund by himself, leaning morosely against a wall and downing what looked like straight Scotch. Vanessa was flirting with a general old enough to be her grandfather, but the redhead’s gaze followed Mark Lindstrom as if she had a crush on their client. And Mick was guarding the storyboards with sheer coquetry, daring anyone to remove the sheet covering the art before her presentation.
But where was Sandy?
Jeff returned with her club soda and whisked her away to escort her toward the dais where Mark Lindstrom would introduce her. A cadet tapped the microphone and asked the milling crowd to take their seats.
Chelsea spotted Sandy, who was signaling her with a frantic expression on her face, but it was too late for Chelsea to go to her. Knowing Sandy’s message would have to wait, Chelsea swallowed her unease.
Mark had removed his glasses, cleaned them with a folded square of tissue, then replaced them on the bridge of his nose. He introduced Classy Creations, and Chelsea sipped her club soda nervously. Her speech would be followed by one from the school’s most famous alumnus, a Gulf War hero who’d used his military career as a stepping stone to a seat in the Senate.
Jeff squeezed her hand for luck, then left her sitting in the glaring lights, a perfect target. Don’t even think it. With all the military personnel surrounding her, no one would dare draw a gun here
.
She missed Mark Lindstrom’s opening words, but when he held out his arm to her and the audience applauded, Chelsea rose to her feet in nervous expectation. As she started her speech, the lights dimmed. A movie screen descended from the ceiling, and slides depicted the campaign in vivid color while she narrated.
Speaking quickly and concisely, she laid out the future of Benedict Academy and the concept of welcoming women to enroll in the prestigious institution. She paused once to take a sip from her glass and thought she heard Alex cry. But her faith in Ms. Kilcuddy prevented her from worrying.
She finished to a round of applause, deftly responded to a few questions from the press, then returned the microphone to Mark Lindstrom. The room buzzed with the news, and she sensed reporters itching to leave and file their stories, though they stayed in order to hear the senator’s speech. Chelsea listened politely, but was glad when she could finally stand and move about,
Mark came over and shook her hand. “You did a great job. Nice presentation.”
Within moments a crowd surrounded them, and minutes passed before she could break free. She wanted to talk to Jeff. And she needed to check on Alex.
Walter loomed out of the crowd, her first employee to offer his compliments. “I just want to congratulate you. Anne would have been proud.”
About to say a quick thanks and turn away, Chelsea fastened her attention on her accountant. “Anne?”
Walter’s drink sloshed over his hand. “I still miss her, don’t you?”
He didn’t act as if he expected an answer, but rather as if his question was hypothetical. But replying seemed the safest way to go unless she wanted to admit to her missing memories. “She was my best friend.”
“Mine, too. Did she tell you she’d accepted my proposal before…?”
Proposal? Walter and Anne had been dating? Damn it, her lack of memory had never been so inconvenient. Luckily Walter was too drunk to notice Chelsea’s astonishment.
He rambled on. “If only my mother hadn’t insisted I visit her that day, I would have been there to protect Anne. I loved her so much. Why did she have to leave me?”
So Walter wasn’t a suspect in Anne’s murder, not if he had an alibi. But then what mother wouldn’t lie to save her son? “Anne didn’t leave you. She was murdered. And she must have loved you very much to agree to marry you.”
“I told her I wanted Alex.” Walter staggered, then caught his balance with a look of apology. “You’ll do fine by him. Wouldn’t be right for a single man to raise him alone.”
Oh, no! Had she found Anne’s lover and Alex’s father? Chelsea’s knees almost buckled, and she steadied herself by putting a hand to the wall. The swirling crowd of people left them in a pocket of privacy. Unwilling to draw attention to herself, Chelsea fought to keep her tone normal.
“Walter, is Alex your son?”
“Almost.”
Chelsea wanted to scream. Instead, she lowered her tone. “Almost? What does that mean? Either Alex is your son or he isn’t.”
At that moment Sandy dashed up, almost bumping into Chelsea. “Alex was crying earlier. I couldn’t find you, and then you had to make your speech.”
She turned to Sandy with a worried frown. “Is Alex all right?”
“That’s the problem. He and Ms. Kilcuddy are gone!”
Terror froze Chelsea to the spot. She couldn’t have heard right. “What?”
“Well, all Alex’s stuff is in the coach’s office, but I can’t find your baby-sitter or Alex, either.”
Jeff joined her, apparently overhearing the last of Sandy’s words. “Don’t panic, maybe Ms. Kilcuddy just took him for a walk.”
Chelsea clutched Jeff’s hand like a drowning woman about to plunge over Niagara Falls. Her limbs suddenly twitched into action. “Let’s see if they’re back.”
Jeff shouldered his way through the crowd, tugging her through behind him. It seemed like a year before they reached the coach’s office to find Ms. Kilcuddy barging out through the door, a frown of concern on her face. “Really dear, I just slipped off to the rest room after Alex fell asleep. There was no need for you to disturb him.”
“I don’t have Alex.”
Behind her bottle-lens glasses, Ms. Kilcuddy’s eyes widened and her face paled. “But…but…Alex isn’t old enough to crawl out of his stroller.”
Jeff squeezed Chelsea’s hand and then let go. “Stay here. I’ll tell Mark to make an announcement and ask whoever has Alex to bring him back to the coach’s office.”
Vanessa joined the little group, took one look at Chelsea and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Alex is gone. Have you seen him?”
Vanessa’s face turned so ashen her freckles stood out like oil stains on a white beach. “No. This can’t be happening.”
As much as Chelsea wanted to shake the girl, she refrained. “Did you see anyone come in here? Do you have any idea where Alex could be?”
Vanessa’s hands rose to her temples. “Give me a moment to think.”
Chapter Nine
“What’s there to think about? Either you’ve seen Alex or you haven’t,” Chelsea nearly screamed, her heart pounding her ribs.
“I try not to look at the baby,” Vanessa said. She swallowed. “I…he reminds me of the son I gave up for adoption.”
“You saw someone leave this room?” Chelsea asked, ignoring the girl’s grim tone.
Vanessa nodded. “I was looking down. But whoever he was wore boots and a uniform.”
Chelsea hurried to the door and flung it open. At least a hundred uniformed men stood talking, eating and strolling around the buffet tables. She spied Jeff speaking to a cadet who pointed across the room.
Her gaze followed his motion, and she spied Mark Lindstrom. And Alex!
She, Jeff, Vanessa and Sandy reached Mark at about the same time. Vanessa glanced at Mark as if he was a hero but scowled when Sandy placed her hand on Mark’s forearm. A muscle in Jeff’s jaw pulsed as he contained his anger for Mark’s causing such worry.
Mark faced them all with a disapproving shake of his head. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
Mark handed her the baby, and she quickly checked him over. Alex seemed fine. But from the past few minutes of worry, she must have lost a year off her life. “How did…? Why did—?”
“I stopped by to tell you that you wowed the board.” Mark mopped baby drool off his uniform with barely concealed distaste. “Anyway, you weren’t around. Alex was crying and the sitter was nowhere in sight. So I picked him up and have been searching for you ever since.”
PLEASANTLY EXHAUSTED but too tired to sleep, Chelsea had returned to Jeff’s house happy with the way the evening had gone, yet at the same time numbed by the responsibility of watching Alex. She’d almost panicked at the simple misunderstanding, and the thought of losing him scared her frantic.
After changing into jeans and sweater, Chelsea sat curled in the center of Jeff’s futon, ensconced on the back porch amid ten acres of lush estate along Chesapeake Bay. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
“Ready for what?”
“Parenthood.” She stared out over the sparkling water, glinting like jewels on black velvet beneath the moonlight, tucked her bare feet under her, drew her arms around her knees.
Jeff slid beside her and draped his arm around her shoulders. “Every parent momentarily loses a child at one time or another. You’ll be holding a hand in a grocery store, let go to reach for some soup and look down to find the child has wandered off. It happens.”
“I almost lost it.”
“You’re new at this parenting business. Give yourself a chance.”
“But can I count on myself to do what’s best for Alex?”
“Why the doubts? Because you’re lacking memories or experience?” He massaged her shoulders, his fingers loosening the knots. “Are you afraid to believe in yourself?”
“I just wish my memories would return. Alex is a big responsibility. A
t the party when the baby disappeared, I even suspected Ms. Kilcuddy of wrongdoing.” Her head slumped back against his arm. “How do I know whom I can trust?”
He gently cupped her chin and turned her head toward him. “Believe in yourself,” he whispered, seemingly mesmerized by what he saw in her eyes. “I do.”
She raised her mouth, wound her arms around his neck and kissed him. Desire fierce enough to splinter her heart frightened her. She reminded herself Dr. Jeffrey Kendall, soon-to-be cardiac surgeon, didn’t have time in his life for a wife and child. There could be nothing permanent between them. But she didn’t let go.
Even knowing there would be no easy goodbyes, that the eventual break would be intense, sorrowful and haunting, she wanted him enough at this moment to risk the consequences later. They’d already shared too much for there ever to be a clean parting between them. And she wanted him too badly not to use every feminine weapon she had to change his mind. Gambling that the chemistry between them might sway his final decision in her favor, she tossed caution aside.
“Make love to me.”
“Chelsea?” His husky tone told her he wanted her to be sure of her decision.
“I’m sure.”
“And what if you discover a long-lost boyfriend tomorrow?”
“Then I’ll deal with him tomorrow.” She shot him an impish grin. “The chance of that occurring is unlikely. Sandy told me I’m pretty much a loner, working most Friday and Saturday nights. In my personal planner, I couldn’t find any notations that even hinted at the possibility of a date.”
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