“All right,” she said, securing her hair with a wide rhinestone clasp. Several strands were already falling around her ears and neck. Catching some up with strategically placed pins, she said, “Then why don’t you tell me why you were snapping at them earlier this afternoon.”
With his eyes trained on the length of neck she’d exposed, he said, “Me? Snap?”
Meeting her gaze through the mirror, he shrugged, because he didn’t want to talk about what had been bothering him earlier. What he wanted to do was remove those well-placed pins and watch that mane of long hair fall around Beth’s shoulders. And then he wanted to reach for her hands, drawing her to her feet.
As if reading his mind, she stood and slowly turned around. “Aren’t you curious about what your grandmother and I talked about?”
The lift of his shoulders was as automatic as his answer. “She told you, in broken English, about the day she met my grandfather, Mario, how he swept her off her feet and married her two months later, and how proud she was to present him with their first and only child—my father.”
Tony enjoyed the smug feeling of satisfaction that settled over him as her eyes widened, indicating that he’d hit the nail on the head where his Grandma Rosa was concerned. “Did she bore you to death?” he asked.
“Actually, I enjoyed it. Especially her references to you.”
He knew she was aware of his slow advance, because the closer he got, the warmer the glint in her eyes became. “You should know better than to believe everything an eighty-year-old woman tells you,” he said quietly.
“Then she didn’t chase you around the house from time to time with a wooden spoon?”
He shrugged. “Oh, that part’s true enough.”
“Did she ever catch you?”
He nodded, watching the flick of her tongue across her lips and the movement of her neck as she swallowed.
“How often?” she whispered.
“How does twice a day sound to you?”
Beth’s hands stilled at the sash at her waist. She’d been referring to him getting spanked as a child, but in the span of one heartbeat, his answer took on an entirely different meaning. She untied the sash, letting the robe fall from her shoulders, revealing the dress she was wearing underneath. Certain that no man had ever looked at her with so much open longing, she tipped her head slightly and smoothed her hands down the royal blue fabric of her dress. “Twice a day sounds like a tall order, even for you.”
She’d expected a lightning-quick comeback, but all she heard was Tony’s sharply drawn breath. Glancing up, she found his gaze trained slightly to the right, where her back was reflected in the mirror. The next time his eyes met hers, her breathing had deepened and a familiar sensation had taken hold of her body.
“Yoo-hoo. I’m here!”
They both jumped at the shrill voice coming from the bottom of the stairs, their surprise slowly giving way to grins.
“Tony? Bethany? Are you up there?”
“We’ll be right down,” Beth called to her sister-in-law.
Tony heaved a sigh. “We’ve got to start locking that door.”
“Do you really think that would keep your family out?”
Making a sound deep in his throat, he ran a hand over his face. “Probably not. There is one thing I forgot to mention about my sisters. They all have rotten timing.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Beth said, sliding her feet into her evening shoes. “If Carmelina hadn’t shown up, you might have been late for your own party.”
“Bethany? If Carmelina hadn’t shown up, we wouldn’t have made it to the party at all.”
“You sound awfully sure of yourself,” she whispered.
“You make me very, very sure.”
It was all Beth could do to look away. While she put the finishing touches on her appearance, Tony strode across the hall to get Christopher. Carmelina was waiting for them when they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“When he’s sleeping,” Carmelina said, eyeing Christopher shrewdly, “he looks just like you, Tony.”
Of Tony’s four sisters, Carmelina, the oldest at thirty-eight, looked the most like Elena and acted the most like Rosa. Beth thought it was quite a combination, even for a Petrocelli. But the other woman was right. Christopher’s coloring was very similar to Tony’s. With pride filling her chest, she slipped her hand into the crook of Tony’s elbow, and paused. If she hadn’t felt the muscles flex beneath her palm, she wouldn’t have known he’d tensed. She glanced up at him and found his eyes hooded.
“How long since this little trooper’s eaten?” Carmelina asked.
“Almost three hours,” Beth answered, automatically striding to the refrigerator for a bottle, trying to understand the reason for Tony’s tension at the same time. Long before she could make sense of it, Carmelina exclaimed, “Mama mia! What a dress!”
Tony was smiling the next time Beth’s eyes met his. Handing the baby into his sister’s capable hands, he said, “If you’d waited two more minutes to call up the stairs, I would have had it off her.”
“Aye-yi-yi. Sex and supper. That’s all you men think about. Now, tell me what this baby needs so I can shoo you out of here and spoil him rotten.”
“Actually,” Tony said, running a hand down his tie, “I haven’t thought about supper in days. Perhaps you could help me talk Beth out of going tonight.”
Tony watched Beth’s emotions play across her face. Quirking her eyebrows in that engaging way he was coming to recognize, she said, “Oh, no you don’t, Doctor. Tonight you have to dazzle the board of directors so they have no doubt that they made the right choice.”
“Uh, Bethany?” Carmelina crowed. “Something tells me that in that dress, you’ll be the one doing the dazzling tonight.”
* * *
Randolph’s restaurant was much more impressive than its name. It was perhaps the most elegant restaurant in all of Grand Springs and its surrounding area. How had Beth put it? Opulent grandeur at its finest. Waiters in black ties and tails served champagne from sterling silver trays. The room was flanked by Victorian-era sofas and flute-edged tables, the light from gleaming chandeliers casting a golden hue over everything it touched.
Located a few miles out of town, on the road toward Squaw Creek Lodge, the structure had been built more than a hundred years ago by a miner who’d struck it rich in the silver mines nearby. He’d designed the house for his young wife, who had been born out East and was accustomed to the finer things in life. The young woman was reportedly friends with the Unsinkable Molly Brown, who became notorious for her bravery and heroism on the maiden voyage of the Titanic. Tony had always been more interested in the folklore surrounding the shack where Doc Holliday, of OK Corral fame, had holed up one entire winter after reportedly shooting two men over in Leadville. But as far as Tony was concerned, Bethany could have lit up either place.
He nodded at a waiter and, with a glass of champagne in each hand, headed back the way he’d come. The crowd parted, awarding him a clear view of his wife. She was talking to Oliver Witherbee, who’d been sitting on the hospital’s board for so long he had a permanent Vanderbilt imprint on the seat of his pants. Oliver laughed at something Beth said, and Tony smiled to himself. She had the old stuffed shirt eating right out of her hand.
His sister had been right about who would be dazzling whom tonight. There wasn’t a man in the place who could take his eyes off Beth. Her only jewelry was a fine gold watch and delicate rhinestone earrings that caught the light with the slightest movement of her head. Her dress had a high, slightly rounded neckline, long tapered sleeves and a straight skirt with a slit that stopped several inches short of being provocative. It looked very demure from the front, befitting the new wife of the newly appointed head of obstetrics of Vanderbilt Memorial. From the front, every hot-blooded man from eighteen to eighty appreciated the color, the fit, the style. One glimpse at the sweep of royal blue material that bared her back all the way to her waist had every one of those me
n practically gnawing on their fists.
While Mr. Witherbee moved on to talk to someone else, Beth gave the entire room a sweeping glance. Tony didn’t know how she knew where to look, or how her gaze unerringly picked him out of the crowd, but the smile she bestowed on him kicked his libido into high gear. Holding her gaze even after he’d reached her side, he said, “You seemed to hit it off with Oliver Witherbee.”
She smiled up at him. “His wife and my mother go way back. I’m telling you, Tony, it really is all who you know.”
Tony doubted he’d ever tire of listening for the wry humor, subtle though it might be, in Bethany’s voice. Placing a glass of champagne in her hand, he bent his head close to her ear, all ready to tell her exactly what she was doing to him.
“Hello, Beth.”
Tony turned his head an instant later than Beth, what he’d been about to say never making it past his lips. He didn’t recognize the man who was smiling at Beth as if he’d known her all his life, but he didn’t appreciate the interruption.
“Barry. Hello.”
Barry? Hell. Tony felt his eyes narrow, his jaw firm, and he was barely able to force himself to loosen the arm he’d wrapped possessively around Beth’s back.
“You’re looking well,” Barry said.
“Thank you. How’s Chelsea?” Beth asked.
For a second Tony thought Barry was going to say “Who?” but evidently the man came to his senses in time to form a more intelligent answer. “She’s fine, thanks. I heard you remarried.”
Something about the way he’d said remarried went over like fingernails on a chalkboard, the sound clashing with the four-piece orchestra playing nearby. Until now, Tony had pictured Barry Kent with a pocket protector and Coke-bottle glasses. He sure as hell hadn’t pictured him so tall. So tanned. So muscular. Big or not, if Barry didn’t stop looking at Beth as if she was dessert and he hadn’t had sweets in months, Tony was going to flatten that arrogant, well-bred nose.
“As a matter of fact, I have,” Beth was saying. “This is my husband, Tony Petrocelli. Tony, Barry Kent.”
“Nice to meet you, Tony.”
Tony had enough social grace to shake the other man’s hand, but he hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. As far as he was concerned, that meant that he didn’t have to lie just to be polite. He did nod, though. Luckily, ole Barry took the hint and ambled on back to the table he was sharing with his very pregnant wife.
Watching him go, Tony said, “So that was your ex-husband.”
Something in Tony’s voice drew Beth’s gaze. His dark suit had cost a pretty penny and fit him to perfection. It wouldn’t have made any difference if it had been three sizes too small. What he was wearing didn’t matter. He was by far the most attractive man in the room. His white shirt was in stark contrast to the rich color of his skin, but if she wasn’t mistaken, his tan was taking on a greenish hue.
“Are you jealous?” she whispered incredulously.
“Should I be?”
It wasn’t the answer she’d expected. Cocking her head slightly and crossing her arms, she said, “So lawyers aren’t the only ones who answer questions with questions.”
“You were saying?” he prodded.
Looking up at him, she lost the battle not to smile. “Should you be jealous?” she repeated softly. “Not in a million years. I’m over him. Completely. Unequivocally. Permanently.”
He made a sound deep in his throat, half moan, half impatience. Placing their untouched glasses on a passing waiter’s tray, he took her hand, leading the way to the small dance floor nearby. He turned her into his arms for a slow dance, letting the orchestra set the pace, letting the slow burn deep inside him set the mood. “I have to say your taste has improved, Mrs. Petrocelli.”
“Success has gone to your head, Dr. Petrocelli.”
Several guests turned at the sound of his deep chuckle, the action awarding them a clear view of his smooth turn in one direction, their gentle sway in another. The board of directors were very pleased with the amorous attention their new head of obstetrics was paying to his wife. Tony didn’t give a rip about the board of directors. No matter what Beth said, success hadn’t gone to his head. Bethany had.
He placed his hand in the small of her back, sucking in a deep breath at the feel of her soft skin beneath his palm. “I hate to say this,” he whispered, letting his lips move against the delicate arch of her ear, “but your ex-husband can’t take his eyes off you.”
There was a little catch in her breathing as his hand slowly moved lower. “I highly doubt that.”
“Fine,” he murmured, dipping her in the opposite direction. “But Chelsea is sulking at that table right over there, just beyond the area the hospital reserved for this little celebration.”
“Then, I feel sorry for her. Because I’ve been exactly where she is right now.”
Tony wasn’t normally a man who gave in to public outbursts, but he wanted to tip his head back and laugh out loud. “Trust me,” he said instead, “there isn’t a man in this room who isn’t watching you.”
“Are you trying to make me step on your foot?”
“I’m bragging.”
Beth pulled away far enough to be able to look up into his eyes. Thoroughly enjoying the feelings slowly thrumming through her body, she gave him an arched look and quietly said, “I’ve always heard that talk is cheap.”
He missed a step and didn’t even try to take another. “Are you telling me to put my money where my mouth is?”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d take me home.”
She didn’t say, “And have your way with me,” but it was there between them. And they both knew it.
They stopped at their table for her evening bag, said their goodbyes to the members of the board, then hurried toward the door like children playing hooky.
“Dr. and Mrs. Petrocelli. Wait!”
They both turned around, but neither of them recognized the man who had thwarted their retreat. Something about him made Beth glad they were in a lighted foyer and not a dark alley.
“Can we help you?” Tony asked, placing himself in front of Beth.
The man’s expression was cynical, but his smile seemed genuine enough. He held up one hand and reached into the inside pocket of his sport coat with the other. “I didn’t mean to startle either of you,” he said, drawing a badge into the light. “I’m Detective Jack Stryker. I’ve been working with the Department of Social Services in trying to locate Annie Moore.”
Beth stepped out into the open. “Do you know where she is?”
“A girl matching her description has been seen in the area.”
“When?” Beth asked.
“Where?” Tony said at the same time.
“A few days ago in a park over on Valley View.”
“But why?” Beth asked. “Why would Annie still be here?”
“I don’t know,” the blond-haired detective said in a “the facts, ma’am, just the facts” monotone. “I understand you’re going through the process of adopting the baby she abandoned a few months ago. I also understand the two of you were there the night she had the child. Have either of you seen her since that night?”
Tony thought about the person Martin Smith had thought he’d seen out of the corner of his eye just over a month ago, and about the owl it had turned out to be. In answer to the detective’s question, he shook his head.
Beth thought about the goose bumps that had danced along her arms when her nephew had asked for a baseball cap, and the times she’d felt as if she were being watched. But had she seen anyone matching Annie’s description? “No, Detective, I haven’t.”
“I see,” the man answered.
“Does the department always make such a great effort to locate a runaway?” Tony asked.
“I’m afraid not. It seems her mother and new stepfather in Detroit want her back pretty bad.”
Something in the detective’s expression made Tony pause. If he wasn’t mistaken, the other
man didn’t much care for Annie Moore’s mother and stepfather.
“You’ve spoken to her parents?” Tony asked.
“Over the phone.” Tucking his badge back into his pocket, Detective Stryker said, “I just wanted you to be aware of the situation, so you can be on the lookout.”
“Be on the lookout for what?” Tony cut in. “Do you think she’s going to try to do something, maybe take Christopher?”
Beth gasped. “Why would she do that?”
The detective shrugged. “Why did she abandon him in the first place? Everybody’s got reasons for doing the things they do. Look, it might not be her. Like you said, why would she stay in the same town as the kid without making arrangements to see him? I don’t want to scare you. I just want to keep you abreast of the situation.”
The detective pulled a business card from between his fingers the way a magician might produce a coin. “If you see anything, or have any questions, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
Without another word, he disappeared into the next room. Beth and Tony were left standing in the lobby, staring at the card in her hand. Much more subdued than they’d been minutes ago, they made their way to Tony’s Lexus.
They spoke during the drive down the mountain, asking questions that had no real answers. Was it possible that Annie Moore was still in Grand Springs? If so, what was she doing here? Was she capable of stealing back her own baby? And the most important question of all.
Whose baby was Christopher?
Beth couldn’t have loved him more if he’d been born to her. But did that make him hers? Yes, she screamed inside her head. Her heart thudded a much more painful answer.
“Look at those lights.”
The low strum of Tony’s deep voice drew her from her dark thoughts. From their vantage point they could see the entire city of Grand Springs in the valley below. The pale yellow glow of streetlights and porch lights gave the town an ethereal quality, a peacefulness that reached inside Beth, relaxing her, calming her.
Marriage by Contract Page 18