THE COWBOY'S BABY SURPRISE

by Linda Conrad

  "I think that's a slam aimed at your horsemanship, amigo." The dark-skinned man removed his glasses and aimed a decidedly sexual ogle in Carley's direction. He let his gaze wander slowly down her face, across her chest and linger around her hips. "You want to warn me about the dangers of a motorcycle, sugar?"

  She sniffed once, raised her chin and turned back to the cowboy with the horse. "Look, I…"

  "No, you look … ma'am." Houston's eyes glinted the color of iron in the shadows of the setting sun. "I don't know what you thought you saw, or why you thought it concerned you, but I was definitely not too rough on this horse. And I was not about to be thrown."

  She felt her eyes widen at his sharp tone. Just when she thought she'd better devise some lie to cover her behavior, his eyes softened and his mouth curled up in a semblance of a smile.

  "You know much about horses? Ever ridden one?"

  "Me? No, but…"

  Houston slid the Stetson on his head and pulled down the brim to partially cover his eyes. "Well, now. I'd say that's an oversight we should do something about. I think a riding lesson might be just what you need to be more comfortable around the ranch."

  "I don't think so." She gulped. "In fact, I was about to suggest you start doing your work from the front seat of a truck. They do use trucks on modern ranches, don't they?"

  He chuckled and reached around to pat the nose of his horse. "No call to be afraid of horses. Take Poncho here, for instance." Houston continued to stroke the horse's neck. "He'll work as hard as any man for however long you ask of him, and with barely a sign of complaint."

  "Only if you treat him right." The man on the motorcycle, with jet-black eyes matching his shoulder-length hair, cut in. "And Houston Smith is better to his animals than any man on earth."

  Carley faced the man still astride his bike.

  "There's no need to concern yourself with Houston's welfare, miss. The horses respect his authority and his attention. They know he'd die before he'd let anything bad happen to them."

  That's just what she was afraid of.

  Houston cleared his throat with what she sensed was embarrassment. "Uh, Carley, have you met our veterinarian's assistant, Manny Sanchez?"

  Manny Sanchez, the FBI undercover agent.

  Carley felt her old dauntlessness returning, and her feet were suddenly back on solid ground. She bestowed a sultry grin on the jaunty, windblown man astride the bike while he showed a typical interest in her sexual overture.

  She also delighted in watching his eyes change expression when she purred in her best Southern accent, "Pleased to meet you, Manny. My name's Carley Mills and I think we have a mutual friend … Reid Sorrels from Houston. You remember him, don't you, sugar?"

  Manny's shoulders straightened, and he swung his leg over the motorcycle. He practically stood at attention when he faced her. "Carley? You're Carley Mills?" He flicked a glance between Carley and the man still holding the reins of his horse.

  Carley was positively amused at the range of emotions that filtered across Manny's face before he found his professional mask. "Yeah. Y-yes, certainly," he stammered. "Reid Sorrels. How is good ol' Reid, anyway?"

  "Last time I saw him he was quite well," she purred with a smile. "I would imagine, though, that he'd appreciate hearing from you. You should give him a call sometime."

  "Uh, yeah. I'll do that." He shifted his stance to address the other man. "I'd better be going, Houston. I'll see you first thing in the morning."

  "You bet." Houston narrowed his eyes to appraise the tension he'd felt develop between Manny and Carley. "Sure you can't stay for supper? Gabe's issued you an open invitation."

  "No, thanks. Some other time maybe." Manny mounted the saddle of his bike like he would a horse and slanted a quick glance in Carley's direction. "Why don't you move Poncho back a few feet, Smith."

  Slightly surprised by Manny's seeming change of attitude, Houston tightened down his hold on the reins and clicked his tongue at Poncho. He'd moved several yards away when he heard the motorcycle rumble to life. Houston jerked his head around just in time to catch Manny and Carley in an animated conversation he couldn't hear.

  A spurt of jealousy raced through his veins. He shook his head at the unwanted and unnecessary emotion. What was the matter with him? He'd only just met the woman this afternoon. True, she was undoubtedly the sexiest woman he could ever remember having seen, but that wasn't saying much, seeing as how his memory only extended back eighteen months.

  He stood, stroked a hand down Poncho's muzzle and stared at Carley as she bent over to say something to Manny. She'd changed into jeans and a pullover shirt since the last time he'd seen her.

  As Carley leaned, he noticed how long-legged she was, and how the shirt she wore pulled above the waistband of her jeans, revealing a wide swath of silky, soft skin. His gaze drifted lower and landed on the firmness of her bottom. The jeans stretched tightly across the rounded contours of the flesh they contained.

  Immediately hard and throbbing, he swallowed back the budding lust. No woman had done this to him since he'd awakened in Luisa's spare bed with more aches and pains than he'd thought possible to live through. Houston didn't know why this particular woman affected him so thoroughly or so quickly. The ache he was experiencing surprised him, but made him feel more alive than at anytime during the past year and a half.

  Carley smiled at Manny with some secret they'd just shared, and Houston had to clamp down on his rising anger. The urge to rip Manny off that motorcycle by the back of his neck and draw a little blood while he pasted a fist in the man's face rattled Houston.

  Although he hadn't known him long, Manny had become one of his few friends. A good buddy to go have a long-neck with after work. And what of the woman? He barely knew her, and sure as heck didn't trust her.

  Houston gritted his teeth and blew out a deep breath. Instead of punching someone, he lifted the Stetson and used his shirtsleeve to wipe away the perspiration dripping from his forehead. Dang. The muggy weather must have caused the pounding in his head to start up again.

  Manny replaced his sunglasses, nodded in Houston's direction, gunned his machine and drove away. Houston made a snap decision when Carley took a step toward him.

  He simply nodded in her direction as Manny had done, tugged on Poncho's reins and walked away, too. No sense begging for trouble.

  * * *

  Sitting across from Carley at the dinner table was having a decidedly negative effect on Houston's mood. It hadn't put much of a damper on his appetite, but now that dinner was nearly over, he contemplated leaving before dessert.

  He hadn't minded when the women at the table fawned over her. But as Carley gave each of them one of her room-brightening smiles, Houston's gut tightened in automatic reflex.

  Then there were the men of the staff. Gabe, with a new haircut and spanking clean shirt, had held her chair for her. Frank Silva, head counselor, grabbed the chair next to hers and managed to brush their hands every time food needed to be passed. Even old Lloyd, the yellow-toothed cook, served Carley's meal first, then stood transfixed next to her place until the room erupted in laughter.

  All in all, between the jalapeño pepper salad and the irritation over his unfathomable feelings for Carley, Houston had a lump in his stomach that wouldn't go away. Maybe he should leave. He figured he needed a little space to think over the day's events and their effect on him.

  "Great meal, Lloyd," Carley crooned in that danged, Southern accent. Lloyd set a bowl of peach ice cream down in front of her and grinned like an adolescent while he absently wiped his hands on his apron.

  She batted her eyelashes at him. "What herb did you use on the roasted chicken? It was wonderful."

  "Aw. That there were just my rosemary chicken dish. Glad you liked it. Maybe I'll fix you something real special tomorrow night."

  "My mother used to say that rosemary was the symbol for remembrance and fidelity," Gabe managed between bites.

  Carley beamed at him, then sne
aked a peek in Houston's direction. When she met his eyes, her grin faded and her whole face turned rather sad.

  Well, that wasn't terribly ego boosting—or hopeful.

  Frank Silva, who was well over forty and making a fool of himself, refused his dessert when Lloyd offered, turning instead to demand Carley's attention. "How'd your first day in the Rio Grande Valley go? Think you'll be able to settle in here?"

  "I've never been anywhere quite like this. The scenery is so … flat. Are there any hills at all?"

  Frank smiled and Houston noticed he'd slicked his hair across the bald spot in front. "Nope. Keep in mind this area used to be the flood plain for the Rio Grande. Though, since the dams upriver have been in place, the river's been tamed."

  Frank covered Carley's hand with his own. "Besides the scenery, how are you taking to the people? Seen anyone you'd particularly like to get to know better?"

  Houston nearly jumped out of his seat. It took all his willpower and Carley's own gentle freeing of her hand from Frank's grasp to keep Houston in place.

  "Everyone's been so nice to us. I can't quite understand the language ya'll use, though. I don't believe I've ever heard anyone begin a sentence in Spanish then finish off in English before."

  Everyone at the table chuckled and smiled at their new co-worker. Houston could only blankly stare at the top button of her crisp white blouse. It wasn't closed securely, and the tiny patch of skin revealed at the base of Carley's neck drew him like an ant to spilled sugar.

  "It's called Tex-Mex, Carley," Gabe murmured. "Here on the border, lots of things are different from anywhere else." Gabe's eyes danced behind his wire-framed glasses.

  "Excuse me, please."

  All eyes at the table turned to the doorway. One of the teenage girls, Rosie, stood there, hesitating to enter the room full of adults. She was holding Carley's baby.

  Carley jumped up and moved around the table. She took Cami from the girl's arms. "Everything okay, Cami?"

  "Nothing's wrong, ma'am," the teenager quickly added. "It's almost curfew, though, and I was wondering if you wanted me to put Cami down for the night."

  The whole table turned to Carley holding the baby in her arms. She swiveled so that Cami faced the room. "For all of you who haven't met her, this is my daughter, Cami."

  The baby beamed down at the adults, who gaped at her.

  "Excuse us a minute while I say good-night and give Rosie a couple of instructions." Carley smiled and shuttled the teenager and the baby out the door.

  Houston glanced down at his spoon hovering over the ice cream bowl. His appetite had sure disappeared now. Sensing the room was too quiet as he dropped the spoon against the dish, he looked up and every pair of eyes was locked on his face.

  "What?" Houston gulped. "Did I do something wrong?"

  Gabe cleared his throat. "No, son, you didn't do anything wrong. It's getting late." He backed his chair away from the table and stood. "I'd better have a word with Carley before I head on upstairs for the night."

  Over his shoulder, Gabe made one last remark to the cook. "Great meal once again, Lloyd."

  Most of the other staff members took their cue from the boss, thanked Lloyd and stood to say good-night. Houston was still curious, but glad for the reprieve from all that attention. After standing and stretching his legs, Houston started after Gabe. He wanted to question him about the odd events at the table, but at that exact moment the screen door opened, and Doc Luisa stuck her head in through the doorway.

  "Hey, there. Supper over?"

  "Doc? What're you doing here at this hour? One of the kids sick?" Houston asked.

  Luisa stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. "I just stopped by to say good-night to my favorite ex-patient, and to have a word with … Gabe."

  "You'd better hurry, then. Gabe just took off to speak to Carley and then go on up to bed."

  Houston picked his hat up off the counter and plopped it on his head. He needed a breath of air. "Well, 'night, Doc."

  Luisa was half way across the kitchen headed toward Gabe's office. She waved a hand over her shoulder to him and disappeared around the corner.

  People were sure behaving weirdly tonight, Houston thought as he closed the screen door behind him, shrugging his shoulders and brushing off the strange reactions. He had enough to occupy his mind without worrying about everyone else.

  Stepping into the humid night air, he glanced up at the star-filled sky and wondered, not for the first time or the last, if somewhere someone was worried about him. Was there anyone out there who cared that he was missing?

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Carley crossed her legs and leaned back in one of the hard, wooden chairs in Gabe's office. She briefly considered how a misbehaving teenager would feel when faced with this kind of inquisition. Probably the same way she did now—uncomfortable.

  Gabe ushered Luisa into another wooden chair and closed the door behind her. He eased himself behind the old, steel-case desk and into his leather rocker. Both he and Luisa sat stiffly while they studied Carley.

  With a silent sigh Carley prepared herself to answer the questions she knew were coming—or at least some of them. She had a few questions of her own, and she intended to pose them before this inquest concluded.

  Gabe began the interrogation. "Carley, what we discuss here need never leave this room, but I must insist that you be completely honest with us if we are going to keep you under our roof."

  "Cut to the chase," Luisa muttered, then forged ahead. "Is that baby really your daughter?" She pinned Carley with a steely stare, daring her to tell the truth.

  "Yes, she is."

  "And she's Houston's baby, too, isn't she?"

  "Yes."

  "How did you know where to find him?"

  "A friend of a friend spotted him here and contacted me. Another friend got me the job."

  "Hmm." Luisa rubbed her neck and relaxed into her chair. "I wondered if someone would come looking for him eventually. I never expected it to be the mother of his child."

  "Are you really a child psychologist?" Gabe asked.

  "Yes, certainly. I intend to fulfill the job you brought me here to do."

  "You know he has amnesia?" When Carley nodded, Luisa narrowed her gaze and her mouth puckered in disdain. "Why haven't you told him who you are, or who the baby is?"

  "He disappeared before Cami was born, so he wouldn't have any memories of her, anyway. And … I consulted with a top neuropsychologist. His recommendation is to guide Houston slowly to the brink of his memories. It could be dangerous to his mental health if we rush him or push him in any way."

  "So your intention is to stick around until he remembers on his own? What if he never remembers you?"

  Carley couldn't help but smile. This was the second time someone had asked her that same question. Her answer remained unchanged.

  "I love the man, Luisa. Now that I've found him, I'd never willingly walk away from him." Carley felt her face warm at the mention of their love. "Someday maybe he'll remember what we shared. If not, perhaps we can find some common ground to start over."

  It was Gabe's turn to relax back into his chair. Apparently, Carley had answered all his questions satisfactorily.

  Luisa was not so easily swayed, however. "Are there others who've been missing Houston? People who might want to come here to find him … like family, or employers?"

  "He has no family except Cami. His employer knows where he is and is willing to wait and see whether Houston remembers or not."

  Luisa waved a hand to cut through Carley's explanation. "Dang it, girl, you know what I'm asking. Was the man we know as Houston Smith a criminal in his past life? Is he wanted by the law somewhere?"

  Carley couldn't keep the grin off her face. She'd been an undercover agent long enough to recognize innocent intent in people. If Gabe and Luisa thought Houston might be a criminal, then very likely they were not criminals themselves. Of course, that also
meant they'd been harboring what they considered a potential felon. She shifted in her hard wooden chair and her smile dissolved.

  "No. Houston is not, and never has been, a criminal." The time had come for some of Carley's questions. She sat up and narrowed her gaze at the two older people who faced her.

  "Just how is it you two came across Houston Smith? Where did you find him?"

  Carley also fancied herself a good judge of human nature. If either of these two tried to lie to her, she'd see through them in an instant.

  Luisa answered her questions with a steady gaze and clear voice. "I found him beaten to a bloody pulp, shot and unconscious on a deserted road near here. I brought him to my clinic. I thought I was just going to make him comfortable … to die. But he's one tough case. Within ten days he started coming around. He never did remember what happened to him." She breathed a mournful sigh. "Just as well, I suppose."

  Carley winced at the images of the man she loved broken and near death. "So you believe his amnesia was caused by the blows to his head?"

  "Of course. What else? Actually, I'm surprised he's not blind, deaf and dumb as well," Luisa grumbled.

  The frustration of not having known where he was and not being able to help him almost swamped Carley again—the same as it had when she'd been ordered to bed all those months ago. She fought it off now. He was alive and well, and she and Cami were here to make sure he was never alone again.

  "And why didn't you notify the sheriff about him?" Carley sat back in her chair and narrowed her gaze at the two elderly people in front of her.

  For the first time Luisa squirmed in her chair, and Gabe seemed to shrink into his.

  "We … that is … I had grown so fond of the boy by the time I realized he would make it that I … well, dang it," Luisa began. "I figured he'd be wanted for something, and he'd already suffered so much. What's the harm in allowing a man to begin anew? He didn't remember any of his past transgressions. Why make him face the consequences for acts he didn't recall?"