Beachcomber Baby (Beachcomber Investigations Book 3)

by Stephanie Queen

  “I thought you weren’t on this case.”

  “I’m not. No need to spoil it for you. Let Father Lothario think what he wants.”

  “I did some background on him. He’s a go-getter. Has ambitions. Gets involved in high-profile causes and wins awards.”

  “Not surprising.”

  “So what the hell are you doing, Dane?”

  “Right now I’m driving you back to the shack. Then I suggest you get us some tickets to Boston and we interview that nun and set up some appointments—maybe some surveillance—”

  “Stop right there. If we’re doing all that—what about Paulette?”

  “Don’t look at me, girlie.”

  “Oh—don’t you worry about that. I wouldn’t leave a full-grown adult with you, let alone a baby.”

  “Then what do you want from me? You want me to do all the work for you while you babysit?” He stared her down.

  She hadn’t been thinking that—not consciously. But now that he mentioned it, it sounded a lot like where she’d been headed. But no.

  “I want to do it all. I want to protect the baby and do the legwork.” And I want your help.

  “Ah. Firsthand experience on the dilemma of every working mother that ever lived.”

  “What would you know about it?” she snipped. Then she felt hot and gulped. She’d forgotten that his mother was a working mother all his life practically. “Never mind.”

  “No mind taken.” He gave her a knowing look. It was the kind of look that melted her insides with his forgiveness and understanding and the implied kindness underneath. Except she knew it was all an illusion. Had to be.

  “So what are we doing here?” she asked on a sigh. She looked down at the long eyelashes lying against the porcelain-white baby cheeks and felt a contraction. She was doomed. She wasn’t even thirty years old and she already felt the pull.

  “You need to get yourself a sitter. One with skills. Preferably one who will keep the baby at their place—”

  “I have a place.”

  “That oversized closet you live in? I can’t even turn around in there. You’ll never be able to keep a baby there.” He eyed the giant bag in front of her. She firmed her lips and mentally put her hands on her hips, adopting the attitude. It was her only hope with him.

  “All right—I’ll get a babysitter. But only for two days. It won’t take us any longer than that.”

  He smiled and shook his head. It was that same kind-looking face. It was new to her and she didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust him.

  “You planning to help me or aren’t you? ’Cause if you’re not, I believe you have a fat wad of cash that’s rightfully mine.”

  “It would be on me if you got into trouble. I’ll help you. You knew I would anyway.” He spoke in a measured voice. “But that’s all. No baby time.”

  “No one’s asking you.” She stood. “And don’t worry. There will be no trouble.”

  That’s what she said before the bed broke. The words popped into her head—her father’s favorite saying. She’d heard him say it a hundred times.

  Dane stood and picked up the baby carrier. He wisely didn’t suggest she put the baby in it. She rose and turned from him.

  From behind her he said, “Nothing will go wrong? That’s what she said just before the bed broke.”

  Shana snapped around so fast the baby woke with a start and a whimper.

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Relax. Your brother—”

  “He told you my father used to say it?” She wasn’t breathing. She gulped air. “How dare you—”

  “Relax. I thought it might be apropos, is all.” He moved ahead of her like a lethal cat on good behavior. He grabbed the bag from her hand as she tried to heft it and pushed the door open as she juggled the baby. Then he gave her that kind look again, but now it all made sense.

  He’d been talking to one of her three brothers.

  Chapter 4

  “Don’t ask,” he said before she had a chance to pester him with questions and sock him with reprimands. He made a note not to sit within kicking distance of her at a table again anytime soon per order of his shins.

  God in heaven, what did he see in this ornery battle-ax besides the face of an angel and the body of a love goddess? He knew there had to be something else. And in spite of the rhetorical question to himself, he really, really did not want to know, didn’t want to examine her or how he felt about her too closely. It was that fragile. That dangerous.

  She stomped forward to the street to their car, cradling the baby protectively as if he were the shooter. She stopped short at the passenger door.

  “We don’t have a car seat.”

  “Get in.”

  “No—seriously. We’ll get stopped by the police—”

  “It’s okay. I know the Captain of the State Police.”

  “Ha ha.” She gave him a withering look while she stood.

  “She’ll be okay. It’s a short drive. You can make a list and I’ll run out and get whatever you need. Let’s get her home first.”

  He could have bit his tongue off the minute he said that last sentence. Home? Had he lost his mind in his rush to reassure Shana the terrible love goddess?

  She squinted her eyes at him and wisely didn’t say what she was undoubtedly thinking. She could be smart sometimes. He knew it was tough for her not to ride him for the let’s get the baby home crack. But she’d file it away and march it out another day when the baby wasn’t in her arms and they weren’t on a main street in Vineyard Haven.

  Shana got in and Dane helped her fasten her seat belt while she clutched the baby for all she was worth. She said, “That damn priest said he brought her supplies.”

  “What about the baby carrier?”

  “What about it?”

  “Do you think we could use it as a car seat?” Dane examined the thing in his hand and went around to his door and pushed his seat forward—damn two-door Jeep—leaned in and struggled the seatbelt through a slot that looked like it was there for this reason and got the carrier secured.

  Bent over and looking at her from the back while she glared over her shoulder at him, he thought of a hundred things. But since she gave him a bye on the ‘baby home’ crack, he figured he’d let her off on her ignorance about baby car seats. It had probably been a long time since her kid brothers were babies and she’d been on top of baby paraphernalia. Things changed. Gadgets changed. Fast.

  With more abruptness than the baby was probably used to, Shana opened her door and jumped out, then had to coo and rock Paulette into settling down again as Shana hurried around the back of the car to his side.

  He stood, enjoyed watching and waiting for her, and didn’t bother stepping away from the open car door. He stood in her way. She shoved him aside and bent forward with the baby—not even looking at him. But when she bent over, her ass bumped into his crotch. He jumped back, hitting the door and then shuffling aside. She may as well have scorched him with a cattle prod. The shock of pleasure stimulated him to a painful point and even with the buzzing in his ears, and the blood raging from all parts of his body to the goddamn center of action and shaking him like he was a volcano ready to erupt, he had enough brain power left to know this was not the time or place or the circumstances to be feeling like this. He could think of few less appropriate things right now. He backed all the way out of the door and, turning away, took in some deep breaths of the cool, soothing ocean air. Maybe that’s why Martha’s Vineyard had always been his solace. The air kept him calm.

  Maybe that’s how he managed his relationship with Shana here on the island. The instant unwinding power of the sea air kept him from snapping. Except that one time.

  Shana stood and, still not looking at him, stalked back to the passenger side—in the opposite direction of where he stood—and got in. Slammed the door. Dane took one more stabilizing breath, pushed the seat back and got in. He peeked at Paulette and shook his head. Trouble. This was already trouble.
And they hadn’t even been shot at yet.

  He arranged himself behind the wheel and turned the key. Then he looked over at Shana, who held her chin high and had her arms folded across her magnificent chest. Classic Shana keep out pose.

  “Don’t say anything.”

  “About what?”

  “You’re a goddamn jerk. How was I supposed to know you could use the carrier as a car seat? They didn’t used to be designed that way. At least not in Australia. Not when my brothers were babes.” She looked at him. Her face was flushed and her arms had come undone—like the rest of her—and he was treated to a rare view of vulnerability. It had the same effect as her ass bumping his crotch. Only this time they were in an enclosed car. He used all his willpower to respond with calm. To tell her what she needed to hear. To be a man—the kind of man she needed. And deserved.

  “Don’t worry about it, Shana. We’ll go to a store and learn about all the latest in baby stuff—we can do it now on the way home if you want.”

  She stared at him. He could see her eyes tearing up. Could see her mouth quiver. That calmed his libido but tore at his gut, and the force of every instinct in him to gather her in his arms in comfort was stronger than the force to ravage her had been. Trouble.

  “No.” It was her knee-jerk response, but it saved them both.

  “I’m unnerved, is all. I’ll make the list like you said. I’ll go online to make sure I’m not missing anything—do a little research. Like I always do for a case.” She turned away and he pulled from the curb. But he saw her swipe a hand across one cheek.

  Mother of God, he hadn’t even known the kind of trouble this baby would be. Even he, the ultimate pessimist, skeptic and cynic, had not predicted the levels of pain that this baby might inflict.

  Shana surprised him with the speed at which she put herself back together and the enthusiasm she showed on the shopping trip. He had no idea how it ended up that all three of them went along. He knew it would look bad—like they were some ordinary happy family or something. When he wasn’t coiled to the point of breaking on the inside and cold as Greenland on the outside, there were flashes of lightness and warmth, small sparks of pleasure here and there, and he saw and felt what those ordinary families felt. It was all he’d feared it would be. It wasn’t his. It would never be his. Never again.

  But Shana went blithely about enjoying the pretense—as if she were preparing and this were a dry run for her future. She snatched a baby sunhat from the rack in front of them. It was a pink and white frilly thing with a wide brim. She held it up to him with her beaming smile as if she were testing the hat’s deflecting power.

  “This is perfect. She’ll need protection from the sun as it gets warmer—” Then she stopped. His heart fell like an anvil and his muscles coiled up again.

  He measured his words. “Her mother will appreciate it. But let’s limit the stuff to what we’ll need for the next six days.”

  “I’m getting carried away, aren’t I? I knew this could happen.” She turned away from him and ran a hand over Paulette’s cheek as she lay in her carrier propped in the store cart. “But don’t worry. I’m up to it. I’m no more ready for a baby than you are.” She looked at him and arched a brow.

  “Some day you will be.”

  “And you’ll never be.” She said it with the finality it was due. He flinched on the inside but kept his rocklike exterior solid.

  “Let’s wrap it up here and get back to the office to do some homework and arrange a babysitter before we go to Boston tomorrow.”

  “You’re really coming?”

  “It’s like you said. There’s bad guys with guns involved now and dealing with violence is my strong suit.”

  “I didn’t say that—Father Donahue the chauvinist said that.”

  “We need to keep the client happy, don’t we?”

  “Why are you doing this? Why have you changed your mind?”

  “You underestimate your powers of sucking a guy into something.”

  She snorted and put the hat back on the rack and pushed the carriage to the checkout.

  “Why?” she asked again when they were all back in the car with several bags of who knew what tucked in the back. He’d thrown the net over it and hoped no one had noticed him with a baby. Too late for that, he supposed.

  He didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “Why not?” he said. “Why can’t it be that I want to protect you, to cover your back like any partner would?” He allowed the defiance to come through in his words. A little hurt sounded in them too. Unplanned.

  “No reason. I get that. It’s just you were so adamant before. About baby cases.”

  “I’m a big boy. I’ll get over it.” He paused a beat and let go of something. “Maybe it’s time I did get over it.”

  Shana, showing her smartness again, said nothing more.

  Dane sat at the big desktop computer, their extra secure device, double encrypted and customized by his old pal Acer who specialized in cyber security these days. It was their go-to machine to stay under the radar. No particular reason except his innate paranoia and long cultivated sense of self-preservation.

  Shana came into the room—his dining room—and plopped onto the chair catty-corner to his. He felt her leaning forward on her elbows, her scent and warmth invading his space.

  “Problem?” he asked without looking away from the screen as he tapped in queries on Father Donahue’s parishioners—just in case.

  “I called every woman I know and I have no leads on a babysitter for tomorrow morning. I’m getting desperate.”

  “Where is Paulette?”

  “Asleep. Fed and diapered.”

  That made him stop and look up. He smiled at her. Something about her mother warrior persona did him in. Even more than anything else about her—like her sense of justice and standing up for the little guy, of her subtle kindnesses and her passion—

  “What?” she demanded.

  “Call Cap. He knows everyone.”

  “You know everyone—don’t you know someone who might—”

  “Outside my area.”

  “All right—but I’m sure Cap won’t have any more expertise in this area than you do.”

  Dane went back to his computer screen. He was impressed with this parish. They were more well-to-do than he’d realized. And spread around good works like snowflakes.

  That made him suspicious.

  He got no further at that moment because he heard Shana’s rising voice in the next room. He checked his watch. She’d been on the phone for forty-five minutes while he’d been on the Net. He rose and went to her like a moth to the flame. For a guy who was supposed to be a legend, Dane was pathetic. He bet even Father Lothario wouldn’t be this pathetic.

  “Sassy? You’re sure? Okay. Can she drive over now? Great. I owe you, Cap.” Shana hung up the phone and turned her megawatt smile on him. He felt like raising his hand to shield his eyes, but he slouched against the archway between the rooms and gave her his coolest smile back. He waited. She would talk without prompting. She was too excited not to.

  “Well?” she said.

  He raised a brow. He was glad he wasn’t within kicking distance and glad she had nothing at hand to throw at him. She exhaled in exasperation and stood.

  “Cap came through. We got a sitter. She’s coming over now. We’ll check her out to make sure we like her, but Cap recommends her so she has to be top-notch.”

  “Name?”

  “Sassy Stephens.”

  “Sassy?” He shook his head and went back to his computer to type in her name. Shana followed him.

  “You’re ridiculous. Don’t you think Cap already checked her out?”

  “You need to learn more caution, Shana. I’m checking her out now—on my super-duper deep background program.” He looked up at her as she stood over his shoulder. He smelled her. There was a hint of baby in her scent tonight. It had a wild effect on him. Pleasure wafted through him c
hased by longing.

  He said, “Don’t roll your eyes.”

  Shana laughed. He started typing to busy his hands or he’d surely put them on her in the next second.

  “Cap already gave me the lowdown. She’s a socially awkward, early twenties virgin with a knockout body. Pretty with long, wild, red hair and green eyes—”

  “We wanted a sitter, preferably with defense skills, not a contestant for Miss America.”

  Shana swatted his shoulder and kept going. “But she has zero confidence. Except with babies. She’s like the pied piper of the nursery.”

  “Sassy works in day care?”

  “No. She’s a fruit pastry and pie chef.”

  “You’re making no sense.”

  “She moonlights, Dane. It’s not that complicated. She loves kids, but especially babies. And she’ll be here any minute. She lives in Vineyard Haven.”

  Dane kept tapping away on his keyboard, but he didn’t find anything controversial about Sassy Stevens unless you counted the fact that she owned two cats. He was okay with cats.

  “What about her skills? With a gun?” Dane asked.

  The front doorbell rang and Shana looked toward it as if an alien were about to walk in.

  “Just so you know—she gets nervous around men, so take it easy with that legendary charm.” Shana headed toward the door ahead of him so he stayed back.

  Shana threw open the front door, but not until she’d peeked out the window and up at the mirror above the transom. Dane was pleased that his lessons in caution weren’t totally in vain.

  The minute Sassy walked in the door Dane observed that she loved bohemian dresses, gladiator sandals, and a lucky Irish green bowler hat. He held his reaction and let Shana conduct her motherly interview about the care and feeding of babies for a few minutes while they sat at the dining room table in the seats not fronted by computers and office desk things. He hung back and swung around the hallway into the kitchen where he listened from the open peninsula and got some tea and coffee.

  It only took him four minutes to see that Sassy would be great with little Paulette. It might have taken Shana a few minutes longer, but he wasn’t waiting. It was time to see if Sassy could stand up under fire. Literally.