Somebody's Baby. Amanda Stevens
“You know about my sister’s condition.” It was a statement, not a question. His father had always insisted that anyone who came to work in the Chambers household be informed of Vanessa’s heart problem so that if an emergency ever arose, the staff would know instantly how to handle it. Grant doubted that policy had changed since his sister had moved into her own home. J. D. Chambers wouldn’t allow it. His daughter had to be protected, at all costs.
“There’s no use upsetting my sister needlessly,” he explained.
“But somehow I don’t feel right keeping this from her.” She slanted Grant a look, which wasn’t hard to interpret. If Vanessa were to ever find out about the woman in the park, Alice Becker didn’t want to be held accountable.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take full responsibility.” Bending over the crib once more, Grant let his nephew capture one finger in his tiny fist for a long moment, then straightened. “Good night, Mrs. Becker.”
The woman started to say something, perhaps to ask him again to call her Alice, but then she seemed to change her mind. She nodded and murmured, “Good night, Mr. Chambers,” as her gaze took his measure one last time before he turned and strode from the room.
* * *
Nina sat in the back of the taxi and stared out the window, but the passing scenery was nothing more than a blur. How could she focus on her surroundings when her thoughts were so chaotic?
Was she doing the right thing?
What if she got caught?
Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window, she marveled at the changes in her appearance. She’d spent hours that afternoon at an exclusive uptown salon, being made over for tonight. The bill, along with the price of a new gown, had been staggering, but Nina knew the extravagance had been worthwhile.
Gone was the long, mousy blond hair, the pale complexion, the dull, pain-filled eyes. Her hair, cut short in a chic new style, shimmered with golden highlights, her complexion glowed with soft color and her green eyes sparkled with excitement. Nina hardly even recognized herself, and she told herself no one else would, either.
Resting her head against the back of the seat, she let her mind drift over the rest of the afternoon’s events, searching—she suspected—for affirmation that she was doing the right thing. That she had covered all her bases.
After speaking with Sergeant Farrell for the second time, she’d fished the morning newspaper out of the trash and turned to the society section. Vanessa Baldwin’s likeness had smiled up at her, and Nina’s heart had plunged in disappointment. Either the picture was deceptive or she’d been mistaken in the park. Vanessa Baldwin looked nothing like Karen Smith.
Could Sergeant Farrell be right? Had Nina glimpsed something in Vanessa Baldwin’s eyes only because she so desperately wanted to?
The accompanying article reported that Vanessa Baldwin was hosting a formal reception that night in her River Oaks home in honor of her brother, Grant Chambers, who had just returned from Venezuela. After reading the article, Nina had come up with a dangerous plan. For her own peace of mind, she had to get a closer look at Vanessa Baldwin. She had to be sure.
And if she was honest with herself, she had to admit she wanted to see the baby again, too, although she knew that would be the riskiest part of her plan.
Oh, but to hold that child in her arms again…to savor his sweetness…
Nina drew a long, shaky breath. Above all else, she had to remain rational. If Vanessa Baldwin wasn’t Karen Smith, then her baby wasn’t Dustin, and Nina would have no right to see him, let alone to hold him. She could not afford to lose sight of that fact.
The taxi pulled through the gates of the Baldwin estate and slowly wound its way around the semicircular driveway to stop in front of the Mediterranean-style mansion, blazing with lights. Nina glanced at the stucco facade and the wrought-iron balconies as she stepped out into the cool October air.
Another car had pulled up behind hers, and two couples got out. Nina fell into step behind them, forcing herself to strike up a casual conversation with one of the women as they mounted the stairs and walked through massive oak doors into the grand foyer.
* * *
Grant saw her immediately. He’d been talking with his father and several business associates about the Venezuelan project, but the moment she walked into the room, everyone else faded into the background.
She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense of the word, but there was something about her, an elegance and quiet sophistication that made him think she would be an interesting woman to know.
The simple black gown she wore left her arms and shoulders bare, and revealed a body beneath the silky fabric that was more slender than Grant would ordinarily have found attractive. But rather than making her seem frail, her petite stature was surprisingly sensual. Womanly.
Drifting away from the people she’d come in with, she accepted a glass of champagne from one of the hovering waiters, then slipped unobtrusively into a corner, her gaze raking the crowded room. Grant watched her over the rim of his own glass. Had they met before? He didn’t think so, and yet there was something intriguingly familiar about her. He excused himself and crossed the room toward her.
As he approached, Grant saw something flit across her features. Recognition? If he didn’t know better, he would have almost sworn it was fear.
“I know this is going to sound like the worst kind of come-on,” he said, “but have we met before?”
Her gaze flitted upward to his. She licked her lips nervously. “No. I’m sure we haven’t.”
“You look…not exactly familiar, but—” He paused, studying her features. “There’s something about you.”
“I…guess I just have one of those faces.”
That wasn’t it, but Grant didn’t think it wise to pursue the topic any further. She looked a little skittish, as if she might turn and bolt at any moment. And he sure as hell didn’t want that.
“I’m Grant Chambers.” He extended his hand, and she accepted it only briefly before pulling her fingers from his grasp. When she made no move to introduce herself, he said, “And you are…?”
A look of panic flashed across her features. He couldn’t imagine why she seemed so nervous in his presence. Was he that intimidating? He’d never thought so before.
“I’m—” She broke off, her gaze darting from his. He saw her take a deep breath, and then she said softly, “Actually I’m not supposed to be here.”
“You mean you crashed my sister’s party?” When she nodded, he laughed. That explained her nervousness. She probably thought he’d have her tossed out, but that was the furthest thing from Grant’s mind.
He stared down at her, his interest piqued. A pulse beat in her throat, and he thought impulsively how exciting it would be to press his lips against the spot, to feel her soft, warm skin throbbing beneath his mouth.
Leaning toward her, he said, “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Then…you don’t mind my being here?”
“Hardly.” Their gazes met once again before she quickly glanced away. Grant used the moment to study her as she turned to watch the crowd. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so intrigued by a woman. “So, tell me. Any reason for crashing this particular party?”
She lifted her shoulders, a slight movement that brought Grant’s gaze downward, to the creamy skin of her throat and the alluring shadow of cleavage at her neckline. He felt something tighten inside him.
“I came with my cousin.” She nodded vaguely toward the center of the room.
Grant followed her gaze and said, “You mean Cynthia? I didn’t