“Colin,” she breathed with a sigh that was both prayer and benediction.
“Guess we’ll fool them pretty good at the wedding ceremony.” His voice was husky with emotion as he stroked her hair with his strong, square palm.
Her common sense revived at his words. “You mean this is just practice?”
Before he could answer, a heavy thud sounded over the baby monitor.
Devon pulled away and jumped to her feet. “Good Lord, Amanda’s fallen out of bed.”
Colin shoved past her, racing toward the stairway. “Not at her age. Someone’s in her room. Call the police.”
The kidnapper had returned. Her heart leaped into her throat, squeezing off her breath. She stumbled to the phone and punched 911 with shaking fingers.
When the operator answered, Devon forced out her address. “Someone’s trying to steal my baby. They’re upstairs now. I can hear them.”
Footsteps, another thud and a muffled curse reverberated through the monitor.
“Stay on the line, ma’am,” the operator’s calm voice instructed her. “We have a cruiser in your neighborhood. It’s on the way.”
Devon’s instinct was to hang up and rush to Amanda, but she knew Colin would protect the child. But who would protect Colin? What if the kidnapper was armed and dangerous?
Footsteps thundered down the stairs.
“I have to go—”
“Stay on the line, ma’am. The officers are almost there.”
Again the beat of footsteps on the stairs resonated through the house. Wracked with anxiety, fearful Amanda had been snatched away and Colin injured, she fought between obeying the operator and running to help. Swallowing her panic, she stayed by the phone while long minutes dragged past.
“The police are at your front door now,” the operator said. “Can you let them in?”
Devon dropped the receiver and raced down the hall toward the front door. Two uniformed officers the size of small buildings stood on the porch.
“Upstairs,” she cried. “Someone’s stealing my baby!”
The first officer bounded up the stairs toward the bedroom, while the second pulled her aside. “Go tell the 911 operator we’’re inside, then hang up.” As she turned toward the kitchen, he grasped her arm. “Are these the only stairs to the second floor?”
She nodded.
“Then stay in the back of the house, out of the way, until one of us comes for you.”
“Colin’s up there—” she began.
“We’ll take care of him. Just go to the back of the house and stay put. If you’re in the way, you could get hurt or obstruct our efforts.”
Devon raced to the kitchen, delivered the message to the operator, then hovered over the monitor. Several loud thuds, the noise of scuffling, a muted shout and Amanda’s shrill cries reverberated through the speaker. Devon clasped her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out. She’d never forgive herself if anything happened to Colin or the baby.
Chapter Eight
Never underestimate the importance of the family and extended family upon a child. Babies need the security of parents, siblings, grandparents and aunts and uncles as they grow and develop. How a baby relates to family often determines how well the child will fare in later life.
Amanda Donovan, Bringing Up Baby
Devon had exhausted every ounce of self-restraint. She barreled up the hall and collided with an officer as he stepped off the stairs with a tearful Amanda in his arms. She retrieved the child and clutched the sobbing baby against her thumping heart.
“We caught him, ma’am,” the officer said.
“Thank God.” She slumped with relief against the paneled wall.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs above her, and the other officer shoved a man in handcuffs ahead of him.
Colin lifted his shackled wrists. His granite jaw tensed as he glared down at her with fierce eyes. “Tell them who I am. They don’t believe me.”
She shuddered at his furious gaze. How had the officer confused Colin with the kidnapper? She confronted the policeman beside her. “You have the wrong man. The real kidnapper is getting away.”
At her words, the officer darted out the door, while his partner released Colin. “Sorry. We didn’t know there was another adult in the house. Stay here while we check outside.”
After the second officer followed his partner, she closed the door behind him and leaned against the frame.
Colin rubbed his wrists and confronted her with an ironic grin. “He jumped me from behind when I tried to follow the intruder out the window. Is Amanda okay?”
Amanda’s tears had ceased, and she nestled contentedly against Devon’s neck. Drowsiness weighted her tiny eyelids and golden lashes brushed her plump cheeks, flushed pink with sleepiness.
Devon nodded. “She seems fine now. Tell me what happened.”
The longing expression on his face as he pulled her and the child to him triggered a heat deep within her, and she reveled in the secure feeling of his arms around her. The warmth of human contact had been missing all her life. Aunt Bessie had not been a demonstrative person. A pat on the shoulder and a peck on the cheek on birthdays and Christmas had been the extent of her physical affection. But inexperienced as Devon was in such matters, she recognized the difference between the touch of kin and the puzzling mixture of electricity and calm produced by Colin’s embrace. She snuggled deeper into his arms, cradling Amanda between them. She could easily become accustomed to such a haven.
The foolishness of her thoughts struck her like a blast of arctic air, and she pulled away. She was no better equipped for emotional involvement with Colin than she was for performing brain surgery. With a heaviness weighting the center of her heart, she turned back toward the family room and settled in the rocker, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby.
“Do you want me to hold her?” The smooth sound of his deep, rich voice sent her nerve endings humming again.
“I don’t want to wake her.” Reluctant to give her up, Devon tightened her arms around the child and silently dismissed her personal dilemma. Amanda’s safety was foremost. What if she hadn’t had a monitor? Where would Amanda be now? The thought terrified her, and she cuddled the child closer to keep her hands from shaking. “Did you see who it was?”
Colin shook his head. “When I reached her room, the door was locked from the inside. I ran downstairs for a crowbar, but by the time I jimmied the door, the intruder was gone—out the window.”
She pulled her gaze from the dark anger in his eyes. “How did he get inside?”
“I think I know.” Colin disappeared into the hall and returned in a few minutes. “I had the living room windows open to air out the paint fumes. The screen of a window off the front porch has been removed. He probably planned to sneak Amanda out the same way.”
“Why didn’t we hear him?” she asked. “He was just a few feet away.”
“I guess we were busy.” The anger in his eyes dissolved, replaced with a glow like molten steel. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her again.
She flushed, remembering the intensity of his kiss. The sound of heavy footsteps in the hall startled her from her recollection.
One of the policemen appeared in the doorway. “We’ve done a thorough check of the yard, but there’s no sign of anyone. We’ll interview the neighbors. They might have noticed something. Otherwise, there’s not much we can do.”
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” she said.
The officer replaced his cap and tapped the brim in salute. “Sorry we couldn’t be more help, ma’am.”
Colin walked him to the door, and when the murmur of their voices ceased, Devon beard the sound of locks and latches turning as Colin secured the door and windows before returning to her.
“What if the kidnapper comes back?” she asked.
“I’ll sleep with you tonight.”
She forced herself to avoid his eyes. Their warm velvet reflected her own longing, and the implications of his
statement made her throat go dry.
“With me?” As she fought against her welling desire, she focused on the baby and assumed a light tone. “I doubt sleeping together is something Sara Davis expects for her interview, so we don’t need the practice.”
He grasped the arms of the rocker and leaned toward her, his lips inches from her, tension crackling in the air. “Do you really think that’s what I meant?”
His nearness sucked the breath from her lungs. His woodsy scent tinged the air. She couldn’t think, breathe. She inhaled with a desperate gasp, seeking escape.
She rocked backward, forcing him to release the chair, and smiled. “Of course not. You’re suggesting Amanda and I use the guest room at your father’s again.”
He scoured her face, pinning her eyes with his own, as if he knew what thoughts lay behind them. When he raked his fingers through his thick hair and sank onto the sofa, she expelled a sigh of relief. He’d retreated—for now.
“Dad will love having you and the baby there,” he said in a neutral tone. “Tomorrow, I’ll finish installing your alarm system.”
She had her own plans for tomorrow. While Colin worked, she’d contact an attorney. Anonymity was Amanda’s only hope for keeping out of the hands of Ernest Potts, if that’s who the kidnapper was. Adoption by a couple in another part of the country, far away and unknown to anyone, would keep the child safe.
And visiting the attorney will keep me away from Colin and the desire his nearness creates.
Amanda stirred against her breast and sighed in her sleep, and a sense of loss pierced Devon with savage power. Now she’d realty gone and done it. She’d not only fallen in love with the irresistible architectturned-carpenter, but the child, as well, and both affections were certain to bring her nothing but regrets.
“OUCH, DAMMIT, that hurts!” Ernie winced as Muriel laid the ice pack across his swollen ankle.
“Serves you right, you big goof.” She adjusted the pillow beneath his foot, then fluffed the one behind his head. “Jumping out of second-floor windows at your age.”
“I didn’t jump. I slid down a vine until 1 was a few feet from the ground and landed wrong.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t land in jail.” Muriel paused before the mirror and dabbed a smear of lipstick from the corner of her mouth. “I almost had a heart attack when that police car came speeding down the street past me. Good thing I kept the engine running.”
Ernie chuckled and ran a hand over the day-old stubble on his chin. “They were necking like a couple of teenagers. I would’ve been in and out of there before anybody noticed if it hadn’t been for that blasted intercom. Nobody had those when I was a kid.”
“You’re talking about a long time ago, sweets.” She kicked off her high-heeled sandals, picked up a magazine and stretched out beside him. “Nobody had computers or car phones then, either.”
He folded his arms behind his head and smiled. “Even with this bum ankle, things worked out. I didn’t even have to call the cops. The young broad did it for me.”
Muriel’s forehead wrinkled, crazing her makeup. “I still don’t understand why you wanted cops there.”
Wincing at the pain in his ankle, he pulled himself into a sitting position. “I wanted them to look like bad parents. I had planned to lock the kid in the room. Make them have to call the cops or a locksmith—anybody who’d keep a record that they’d cut themselves off from the kid.”
“Yeah.” She nodded, then her eyes clouded. “I still don’t get it.”
He sighed and patted her lush behind. Lucky for him Muriel had assets to compensate for her simple mind. “That record will be evidence in my case against them.”
“Yeah, but now the police think someone tried to take the kid.”
“Nobody saw me, so they can’t prove nothing, except the kid was locked in her room.”
Muriel stopped flipping pages and shoved the magazine toward him. “Look at this ad. I can’t wait to have a little girl to dress in cute clothes like these. Maybe I’ll even bleach her hair so she’ll look like me. People will think she’s really mine.”
He heard the wistfulness in her voice and remembered how she’d longed for children of her own. Now he was going to set things straight. She’d have her baby, and best of all, he’d have Chad’s money.
He lay back and closed his eyes. Everything was working to his advantage. It was just a matter of time.
DEVON STRECHCHED, easing her back muscles that had stiffened from sitting, and glanced at the clock. Almost noon. She turned back to her computer and had just typed the ending of next week’s column when a light tap sounded at her bedroom door. She swiveled her chair away from her desk to discover Mike, dressed in work clothes and wearing his tool belt, standing in the doorway.
She jumped up and took him by the arm. “You shouldn’t have climbed those stairs.”
He shrugged. “I’m not even out of breath.”
“Sit here.” She maneuvered him into a chair beside her desk.
“You mustn’t fuss,” he said. “Doc says exercise is the best thing for me.”
“Just don’t push it. I like having you around.” As she resumed her seat, worry for the old man, who had filled the place of the father she’d never known, squeezed her heart.
“You’re the one who’s pushing it, my girl. Out of bed before the crack of dawn. Mysterious telephone calls after breakfast. An early-morning appointment downtown, and now slaving away at your computer.” He reached over and patted her hand. “What’s going on?”
“It’s time to fix lunch.” Purposely avoiding his question, she started to rise, but he caught her hand.
“Not so fast. Mrs. Kaplan, your lovely widowed neighbor, is downstairs making sandwiches while she watches Amanda, so you have plenty of time to tell old Mike what’s chased the sunshine out of those pretty hazel eyes.”
Affection for the old man who could read her like a book rushed over her. She settled for a half-truth. “I’m worried about Amanda.”
“Colin will have the alarm system working before the end of the day. And he’ll be staying here at night until the kidnapper is caught.”
Her eyes widened. “He can’t stay here!”
Mike regarded her with a broad grin that creased the leathered skin around his twinkling azure eyes. “Are you afraid people might talk?”
“Of course not.” How could she tell him she feared her own desire? The thought of Colin, sleeping on the sofa in the room beneath her, created a warm tingling deep in her abdomen. Then she remembered Mike’s illness and, wondering if two half-truths made a whole, uttered another one. “I don’t want you left alone. You’ve been ill and—”
“Don’t you fret that very pretty head about me.” His voice rang with gentle firmness. “My older daughter, Betsy, is arriving today from Orlando for a couple weeks. I won’t be able to draw breath without Betsy checking on me.”
“Clearing all this up will take more than a couple weeks,” she said with a sigh.
“This? You mean catching the kidnapper?”
His question caught her off guard. She’d been thinking of the interview, her dangerous attraction to his handsome son, and how all the facets of her life tangled together in the major deception she’d concocted for Sara Davis—her work, the baby, Colin—as well as the threats to Amanda.
She shoved her fingers through her hair in frustration and returned to Mike’s question. “If the kidnapper is smart, he’ll lie low for a while. And if it’s Ernest Potts, as I suspect, he might even head back to the Midwest until things cool down here.”
Mike covered her hand with his callused one. “By then you’ll have your alarm—
“But that only helps when I’m home. I’m scared to step outside with Amanda for fear someone will snatch her away.” She threw him a wry smile. “Even Anmanda Donovan can’t watch a baby every second.”
He studied her with shrewd eyes. “Where did you go this morning?”
She exhaled a deep sigh of res
ignation, conceding she couldn’t keep her morning’s mission a secret forever. “I had a meeting with an attorney. He’s checking for any legal recourse to stop Farnsworth from revealing Amanda Donovan’s true identity.”
“And?” Mike’s white eyebrows peaked in a questioning gaze.
She fidgeted beneath his stare. “And I asked him, as soon as Farnsworth is taken care of, to start adoption proceedings to place Baby Amanda in a permanent home.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Adoption? You’d really give her up?”
A swift pain burrowed deep into the center of her heart at the thought of losing the child. “What choice do I have? I’m a single woman with no experience, and the baby needs a real home. Her trust fund will guarantee her financial security—”
“Trust fund?”
“It comes with the guardianship.” When she mentioned the amount, he whistled.
“That much money would make things a lot easier for you,” he said.
“I haven’t touched any of it—it wouldn’t be right. I opened an account in Amanda’s name this morning and deposited the first check.”
He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I know how much we wrestled to keep costs down on this remodeling. Won’t you need that trust money to pay the lawyer?”
She shook her head. “That’s where the interview proceeds come in. Whatever I earn from Sara Davis will pay to insure Amanda has a good home.”
“That’s mighty unselfish,” he said with an admiring grin.
She flushed at his praise and shook her head. “It’s just doing the right thing. But please promise you won’t mention any of this to Colin.”
“What’s Colin got to do with it?” His wise expression suggested he knew more than he professed.
“Every time I mention adoption, he looks at me as if I just crawled out from under a rock.” She shuddered, remembering Colin’s disdain. “I can’t make him understand the child needs a mother and father, brothers and sisters.”
Mike gathered both her hands in his work-worn ones and squeezed them gently. “Aren’t you going about this backward?”
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