Operation Bassinet

by Joyce Sullivan

  Hunter snared one of her hands and kissed her palm. “Your father will have his hands full teaching her everything he taught Ross.”

  “He’s so anxious to meet her,” Juliana said wistfully. “He called me three times today. And I want Keely to meet her baby brother.”

  “I know, my darling. But we have to be patient.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” she said with obvious discontent. “This is the first time I’ve been away from Cort this long. My arms feel empty without him. And I miss being at FairIsle. And most of all, I miss you sleeping in my bed. Are you making headway on the case?”

  Amusement rumbled in Hunter’s chest along with a welling of gratitude that he’d stumbled into marriage with this amazing woman. “Thank you for the prominent placement on your list of priorities.” He gestured at the mountain of paper on his desk that seemed to get larger every day. He had other cases he was keeping tabs on, as well. “This Tony Conklin lead seems promising. But we’re pursuing other avenues at the same time.”

  “Do you think the kidnapper will make a ransom demand for Stef’s daughter?”

  “Mitch isn’t expecting one.”

  Juliana’s hands stilled on his shoulders. “Oh, Hunter. You have to find Stef’s baby. We can’t—” She stopped. “This is so hard, not telling Stef who we are. I like her. She’s a wonderful mother. And she loves Keely so much. She’s not going to give her up without a fight.”

  “Indeed,” Hunter said very quietly.

  Juliana’s arms circled Hunter’s shoulders as she pressed her cheek against his. Tears choked her voice. “Oh, my love, promise me that somehow we’ll make it work for Keely’s sake.”

  “I promise.”

  STEF WAS SLEEPING when Mitch returned to the apartment. And Juliana was giving Keely a bath. A bath that involved giggling and singing. Just like her mother, Keely had a way of livening up the space around her. Shaking his head at the comparison, Mitch wandered into the kitchen and took two beers from the refrigerator, one for him, one to offer G.D. He was beat. He’d have a conference with G.D. and hit the sack.

  After he’d found out about the new connection between Tony and Brad, he’d called up Rolston and talked to Tony’s supervisor. The supervisor confirmed that Tony had been given a special commendation by Office Outfitters. But he told Mitch that Tony had kept his personal life close to his chest. Still, he’d promised to ask around to see if any of the other guards remembered something.

  Valentina, the cook, bustled into the kitchen to offer him a plate of leftovers, but Mitch assured her in Spanish that he’d already eaten.

  “But the little chica, she make you cookies,” Valentina protested. She gestured toward a plate set on the granite-topped kitchen island. It held three oatmeal-raisin cookies arranged on a white doily. Beside the plate was a homemade card addressed to him with Keely’s handprint in orange paint just below it.

  He felt a weird constriction in his chest as he looked inside the card. There were all kinds of black wiggly shapes colored in crayon. An adult had written “Love” just above the shapes. It took Mitch a second to figure out the shapes were jelly beans, not raisins.

  Love, Jelly Bean.

  Love. Amazing how one four-letter word could hold such power over a one-hundred-and-ninety-five-pound man.

  Mitch blinked and told himself it meant nothing, but it did. No one had ever baked him real cookies before, much less left him a note with the word love in it. He thumbed away the moisture tearing in the corners of his eyes.

  Giving Valentina a goofy grin, he carefully picked up the card and the plate of cookies with his free hand and carried them to his room. He arranged them on his bedside table where he could see them, then slid the old and faded snapshot of his grandfather from his wallet and leaned it against Keely’s card.

  “Look at that, Paddy. Cookies.”

  He ate one of the cookies, savoring every bite. It was the best damn cookie he’d ever tasted even though his stomach went through contortions at the thought that Keely would hate him one day for finding her, for taking her from her real mommy. Hell, Mitch hated himself.

  He wanted to eat the remaining two cookies, but he didn’t. Feeling the weight of the case on his shoulders, he took the beer to G.D.’s study to update him on the interviews.

  They were discussing whether Brad and Tony had orchestrated the kidnapping when a knock sounded on the door and Keely bounced into the room, smelling like strawberry bubble bath.

  “Mommy’s still sleeping, so Keely needs kisses good-night,” Juliana explained with an apologetic smile.

  “Nighty, nighty, nighty, night,” Keely sang sweetly to G.D.

  G.D. lifted her up onto his knee and gallantly accepted her puckered kiss. “Sweet dreams, princess. Does the princess need a horsey ride to bed?”

  “Yes!”

  Mitch laughed as G.D. galloped her on his knee.

  Giggling, Keely dismounted and skipped over to Mitch. “Nighty, nighty, nighty, night,” she sang.

  Mitch wasn’t quite sure what to do. He picked her up as G.D. had and gave her a little kiss when she lifted her adorable face up to his. Then he hugged her tiny vibrant body and whispered in her ear, “I found the cookies, jelly bean. Thank you. You fooled me, I thought the raisins were jelly beans until I tasted them.”

  Keely giggled behind her hands, her bright blue-green eyes sharing his joke.

  Mitch reluctantly handed her off to Juliana. “Sleep well, jelly bean.”

  A jocund silence fell in the study after Keely left as if part of her personality had been left behind in the room like fairy dust. Mitch noticed G.D. was studying him, one brow lifted as if he were about to say something difficult in the most tactful way possible.

  Here it comes, Mitch thought. Marquise had blabbed about that hug in the limo.

  “That was a first time for you, wasn’t it?”

  “What?” Mitch asked.

  “Kissing a child good-night.”

  Mitch tried to act nonchalant. “And I thought I hid it so well.”

  “So, you’ve never been married, never had children?”

  “No. I’ve never dated the same woman more than a couple of months.” Mitch took a sip of beer, watching G.D. keenly. If he knew his boss, and he did, G.D. already knew the answers to the questions he’d just asked. Mitch figured he’d see if G.D. was planning to be equally forthcoming. “Do you have kids?”

  “Yes. A son, actually. And a new daughter.”

  That explained the cry of a baby Mitch had heard in the background of one of their calls.

  “You must be from a big family, then,” G.D. continued. “You obviously have an affinity for children.”

  Smooth, G.D. Mitch hid a smile. Hell, with his sources, The Guardian probably knew whether Mitch’s mother was alive or dead. “Actually, I’m an only child. My mother did me the greatest favor of my life when she dumped me on my grandfather’s doorstep in Los Angeles when I was twelve. Of course, I didn’t feel that way when it happened. I hated my grandfather at first. Let’s just say that I know what it feels like to be taken away from everything you know.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He lost interest when I was six. What about you? You have a perfect childhood, G.D.?”

  G.D. waved a dismissive hand. “Far from it. My mother had a weakness for men. A family retainer took photos of her indiscretions with my father’s friends, thinking he would fund his retirement. He threatened to release the photos to the press if my father didn’t fork over two hundred thousand dollars. My father was so besotted with my mother that he wouldn’t even entertain the idea that she’d been unfaithful to him. He refused to pay the money and the pictures were sold to a magazine.”

  Lines bracketed G.D.’s aristocratic mouth. “When my father saw the pictures he filed for a divorce and full custody of his children. My mother took her own life when she realized that she was going to lose us.” Grief slipped past the shield of detachment he normally wore and fli
ckered in his eyes. “I found her body.”

  Mitch knew exactly what it felt like to unexpectedly come upon the body of a loved one. Five years had passed since he’d barged into Paddy’s room teasing him that they were going to be late for his doctor’s appointment only to discover that his grandfather had died peacefully in his sleep. “Hell, that’s rough, buddy.”

  G.D.’s fingers tightened around the neck of his beer. “It was a long time ago.”

  But Mitch knew it would always stay with G.D. That it had been a life-defining moment that had shaped G.D. into a man who dedicated his life to helping other families deal with similar problems.

  “Get some sleep, Halloran.”

  Mitch recognized a direct order when he heard one. The conversation was closed.

  STEF AWOKE at two o’clock in the morning. She’d laid down for a nap and slept for eleven hours. Her first thought was for Keely. Was she okay? A lump formed in her throat. Two nights in a row now a stranger had put her daughter to bed.

  Stef turned on the bedside lamp, gilding the richly elegant cream-and-blue bedroom with light. If her daughter wasn’t about to be taken from her to be raised in this kind of luxury, Stef might have enjoyed the pleasure of staying in this princess room. Even the bathroom taps were gold.

  She slipped out from beneath the snuggly comfort of the duvet and went into the marble bathroom. She’d check on Keely first, then fix herself some tea and toast.

  She carefully washed her face, careful not to wet the bandage or to press too hard on the vibrant purple-and-blue bruises that flared onto her cheek. There was swelling around her eye that she hadn’t noticed earlier. Good thing her mother couldn’t see her now. Stef clutched the fluffy white towel to her chest, wishing her parents weren’t traveling and so out of reach. She could use one of her father’s “There, there, baby girl” hugs. How could she possibly find the words to tell them that their granddaughter had been switched with another baby?

  She was tempted to call her sister and brother-in-law in Philadelphia. Lorraine, she knew, would drop everything and come to help as she’d done when Brad had died, but Stef knew her sister, who was a paralegal, would start talking about fighting for custody and finding the best lawyers. Frankly, Stef couldn’t deal with that now. Not until she had the baby she’d given birth to safely back.

  At least she had Mitch to lean on. Stef trembled at the memories of the kisses they had shared this afternoon. Kisses that explored a passion beneath their fears.

  Had Brad’s kisses ever affected her like that?

  Stef looked at herself in the mirror and knew the answer. She’d loved Brad, but there had been moments when she had wished for something more from their relationship.

  Feeling guilty by that thought, Stef turned away from the mirror and slid her arms into the thick cotton bathrobe that had once been Brad’s. She needed to see Keely, to reassure herself that she was safe and sound.

  Stef quietly opened the door to the nursery, not wanting to disturb Juliana who was occupying the second twin bed in the room. Stef supposed she should find Juliana’s attentiveness to Keely threatening, but oddly, she didn’t.

  A night-light had been left on in the room, allowing Stef to see Keely curled into a ball around her snuggie. Stuffed animals surrounded her in the bed like sentries. Was her biological child sleeping safely tonight, too?

  Stef tiptoed into the room to kiss her baby and to adjust the covers around her. Then, smothering back a fresh spate of tears, she found her way to the kitchen.

  She puttered, making tea and cinnamon toast, careful not to disturb the others by making too much noise. Her thoughts circled back to the interviews Mitch had conducted this afternoon. Had he found out anything?

  Desire melted through her like spring runoff as she remembered the hot intensity of his gaze when he’d bluntly confessed that he found her distracting.

  Stef trembled. She couldn’t believe she’d been brazen enough to tell him her bra was flamingo pink.

  Cheeks burning, she carried her dishes to the sink. She couldn’t think about this anymore. Wouldn’t let herself dwell on the fact that she wanted Mitch.

  She headed back to her room, turning with a gasp when a door in the hallway opened as she passed.

  Mitch. His chest was bare. His hair rumpled. His jaw coated with dark stubble. And naked desire radiated from his eyes. Stef gulped at the dangerous image he made.

  He was wearing a pair of black running shorts with L.A.P.D. emblazoned on one leg. He was the most glorious man she’d ever seen. Hollywood eat your heart out.

  “I thought that might be you,” he said with a huskiness in his voice that sent a tingle up her spine. The same huskiness that had been there when he’d told her she was driving him to distraction. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. My headache’s gone,” she whispered. “Eleven hours of sleep has made me a new woman. How did the interviews go?”

  He tilted his head and pulled the door open farther, indicating that she should come in so they could talk. Stef wondered if she was making a mistake she might regret by entering his room, but he was already turning away, opening a drawer. He found a black T-shirt and tugged it on. The cotton fabric clung like a second skin to his muscles.

  “Sorry, I don’t have a robe.”

  Stef nodded, not trusting herself to say anything as she consciously avoided the bed where the sheets were undoubtedly still warm from his body. He’d left the closet door open and Stef could see that his suits were neatly spaced one inch apart on the rod. The shirt and the tie he’d worn yesterday were haphazardly draped over the doorknob. Stef had a compelling urge to touch the tie. Not straighten it—just let the silk glide between her fingers because it was Mitch’s.

  Mitch cleared his throat. “Something interesting turned up in the interviews. Turns out Tony patrolled the Office Outfitters in the Bronx and helped a shipping clerk nab an employee who was stealing from the warehouse. Brad presented both men with certificates and a reward.”

  “I remember that,” Stef said, finally daring to turn around and lift her eyes to meet Mitch’s gaze. Big mistake.

  She had no doubt he was imagining her naked. Her feet rooted to the plush wool carpet and her heartbeat spiraled in a slow dizzying pound as his gaze caressed her from her painted toenails to the bandage at her temple. She should have felt self-conscious with the bruises and the swelling on her face. But she didn’t. She felt beautiful.

  More than that, she felt powerful. She wanted to erase the creases in Mitch’s brow and to chase away the loss that haunted his gaze with slow, healing kisses.

  He swallowed hard. “The thing is that it indicates they knew other. We have to consider that Brad and Tony might have been involved in the kidnapping plot together.”

  “No.” Stef said the word on a gush of forcefulness. “So what if Brad happened to be the one presenting him with a certificate. We saw nothing on that tape to indicate there was a conspiracy going on between Brad and Tony. I still think it’s more likely Tony was keeping tabs on Brad. If not for Sable, then for someone else.”

  Mitch’s face set like stone. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. Stef knew her arguments were weak and that her strident defense of Brad was an emotional barrier to keep Mitch at arm’s length. To keep her desire for him in check.

  “Did The Guardian’s men find Sable’s family’s place in the Catskills?” she asked softly.

  “Not yet. But they’re working on it. We’ve got people checking into Tony’s background, too.”

  Stef couldn’t look at him any longer without wanting to touch the smooth corded muscles that strained the sleeves of the T-shirt. Without wanting to feel his arms locked solidly around her. Reassuring her that they’d find her real baby and bring her home safe and sound. “Well, I should let you get some sleep.”

  She almost made it out of the room, but in her effort to leave without looking at him, her gaze fell on the plate of cookies, the homemade card and the photograph arranged
like a shrine at Mitch’s bedside.

  Her heart gave an insistent painful tug. She paused. “What’s this?” she asked.

  Mitch folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned on the edge of the dresser as if he didn’t trust himself to move from that spot. “A gift from Keely,” he said almost defensively. “She left it for me in the kitchen.”

  And he’d put it by his bed along with a picture of a man in uniform who Stef was sure had to be his grandfather. Stef felt another layer of Mitch strip away.

  She moved closer to examine the card and to get a glimpse of the wonderful man who had raised Mitch.

  She reached her hand out to touch the photo.

  “Please, don’t,” Mitch said in a strangled tone.

  Stef stopped and looked at him, wide-eyed with concern and her heart aching for him. Why didn’t he want her to touch the photo? Was he afraid of sharing even that much of his life with her?

  It didn’t seem fair. He knew everything about her. About her husband.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” She forced a brightness into her tone as she quickly stepped back from the table. “The cookies look delicious.”

  “They are,” he said hoarsely. “I’m making them last because they’re special. Nobody ever baked me cookies before.”

  “Nobody?” Stef’s first reaction was to reply that he must be joking, but she could see that he wasn’t. Keely’s gift and the photo were special to him for reasons she didn’t completely comprehend. But they were a part of this complex man who was taking over her life. Who was working his way into her heart with the same dogged determination that he was searching for her baby.

  Stef forgot about escaping the room. She forgot that sleeping with Mitch would be an emotional betrayal to her husband and to their daughter. She took a tentative step toward him. And another.

  Mitch knew he had about two seconds to stop what was going to happen, but he couldn’t. He wanted to make love to her. On a sheer gut level, no decision had ever felt more right in his life. From the moment he’d met Stef, she’d held his heart and his body spellbound. The thunderous pounding in his chest and his painful arousal were proof of both.