The Baby Pursuit. Laurie Paige
it was more than trust. The moment she had looked into his eyes, had viewed the steadiness in him when he had faced her as the horse reared and pawed the air, she had known there was something between them, something deep and personal and eternal. She said his name. “Devin.”
His hand clenched at his side. “Dev,” he said, his voice dropping to a low roughness that both soothed and thrilled her. “My friends call me Dev.”
She heard the reluctance in his tone. He had been trying to distance himself from her and the feelings between them. She knew that. He didn’t want to be friends with her. He didn’t intend to get that close. She understood all that in an instant, and it didn’t matter…because she knew it wouldn’t work. Whatever this was, it was too strong for denial.
“Hold me,” she said softly. It wasn’t a request or even an order. It was stark need.
He rammed his hands into his pockets. His glare should have withered any expectations she might have, but it didn’t.
“Hold me,” she repeated.
“You’re playing dangerously, just as you did when you pitted that red stallion against a car. If you had fallen—”
She shook her head, cutting off the reprimand, and felt her hair shift around her shoulders as if it, too, sensed the restless need of her spirit. “I’d been watching for you. I saw you turn off the highway. I wanted to be here when you arrived. I wanted to be the first person you met.”
“Why?” He narrowed his eyes menacingly. “Why are you so anxious to keep tabs on me?”
The question was meant to startle and disarm. It did neither. “I want to help with the investigation. The baby, Bryan—” She stopped and took a ragged breath. “He’s so little, only three—no, four—months old now. An innocent baby. He’ll be frightened. How could anyone take him?”
Tears filled her eyes. She stepped forward, reaching for him, needing the strength she sensed he could offer. She sighed wearily as she felt his warmth enclose her like a sweet, welcome embrace although he refused to touch her.
“Money,” he replied, his tone hard. “That’s the usual reason people commit crimes.”
She laid her hands on his chest. She felt small and fragile next to his great strength, although she had never considered herself either. His breath sighed gently on the top of her head as he stared down at her, his stance wary.
“I’m not your father,” he said. “I’m not here for your comfort.”
When she didn’t step back, he put his hands on her shoulders as if he would push her away, then paused, as if he couldn’t bring himself to be cruel.
“There’s compassion in you,” she murmured. Desperation and despair churned in her. “I’m afraid. I know the chances of getting my nephew back alive lessen with each passing day,” she whispered, guilt forcing the words from her. “If I had gone to the nursery, they might have taken me in his place.”
She was glad when he didn’t murmur the usual platitudes that offered scant comfort.
“If he’s alive, I’ll find him,” he said in a deeper, huskier tone. A promise.
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I know. The moment I saw you, outside, when you arrived, I knew—”
She stopped, the explanation dying on her lips. He bent slightly, then pulled back, a stunned expression flashing into his eyes, replaced immediately by one of fierce, angry control. And something more—a darkness that spoke of regret and a bitter knowledge of life that excluded anyone else.
“Yes,” she whispered, knowing whatever they felt toward each other was right, her and this dark knight with eyes like the morning sky.
He sucked in a harsh breath.
She realized with something akin to shock that she wanted him to kiss her, to act on the impulse he had subdued. Instinctively she arched against him and felt the shudder that tore through his big, strong body.
She barely heard his low curse as he backed against the door frame, taking part of her weight as she was thrown off balance. Her own breath became ragged and filled with an urgent need she’d never before known.
A roaring filled her ears. A Texas tornado, she realized vaguely. It was coming toward them…
“What the hell is going on?” a male voice said savagely.
Two
“Matthew,” Vanessa murmured, reluctantly turning from the warmth. Coldness rushed in when Dev released his grip on her shoulders. However, her heart was touched at the haggard appearance of her oldest brother and she suppressed her own needs and fears. “Have you heard anything?”
Matthew brushed her question aside with the usual Fortune impatience. “I need to talk to the FBI agent. Where is he?”
Vanessa gestured toward Dev with her free hand. “This is Devin Kincaid.”
“You know him?” Matthew demanded.
She saw the puzzled suspicion in her brother’s eyes as he stared at them. She stepped away from the solid comfort of Dev’s warmth.
“Yes,” she said simply, and realized there was no need for further explanation. In her heart, she knew this man well. She’d acknowledged that from the first contact. A moment ago, touching him, it had been like coming home.
“We met earlier,” Dev said, covering for her. “You must be the baby’s father.”
“Yes. Have you found anything?”
“Not yet.”
The brother cursed and stalked restlessly to the window that opened on the courtyard.
“It must have been an inside job,” Vanessa told them.
When the men looked at her, she realized there was a similarity between them. They both had blue eyes and brown hair, Matthew’s hair being somewhat darker. His features were more refined, aristocratic while Dev’s were rugged.
She thought Dev’s nose had been broken at one time. He sported a thin scar along his chin. His eyes were watchful, his stance wary, alert to danger. There was goodness in him. Caring. A sense of responsibility toward others. Again she was reminded of Matthew and his manner at times.
Matthew had chosen medicine after watching their mother die of cancer. The FBI agent had chosen police work, another field that demanded patience and a protective, nurturing personality for those with idealistic traits. She wondered what forces had influenced his life and knew she wouldn’t rest until she found out.
“Why do you think that?” Dev asked.
She sensed his reluctance to accept anything at face value. “There were too many people around, too many friends and neighbors who know the entire family, for a stranger to walk in, then out, with a child.”
“On the other hand, every bedroom has a door leading into the courtyard,” he pointed out.
“And from the courtyard, it’s easy to get outside,” Matthew added. “There’s an exit through the original wall at the end of each wing, plus the old stable doors.”
“If someone left the nursery with the baby, they could easily slip into any of the bedrooms if need be—” she conceded, pointing toward her door and the adjoining room assigned to Dev. “From there, it would take only a second to slip down the steps into the courtyard, around the corner and out through the gate.”
“If everyone’s attention was toward the great room balcony where Dad was proposing a toast, it would have been an easy feat,” Matthew finished. “Especially since the trellis partially blocks the view.”
Vanessa could read nothing in Dev’s face as he listened to their theory of