Let's Make a Baby!

by Jacqueline Diamond

  He became aware of a sharp pain in his right ankle. It didn’t look as if he were in any shape to offer Joe a ride to the hospital. On the other hand, the lawsuit angle might work really well.

  Something blotted the light. Ryder blinked and wondered if he were passing out after all. Then he inhaled a delicate, tantalizing scent he couldn’t identify. If pushed, he would have described it as the essence of springtime, which was odd, because he was not normally given to metaphors. Was he suffering from a concussion?

  Then thick black hair curtained his face, and he found himself gazing into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. And a face Botticelli would have killed to paint. It was, he realized with dazed admiration, the woman with the binoculars.

  “Are you all right?” asked a lightly accented voice.

  It should have been a simple question to answer, but Ryder had a hard time sorting out his tongue from the rest of his mouth. “Uh” was what came out.

  The woman stroked his wrist—at least, it seemed to be his—and placed her fingers on his pulse. “It feels steady.”

  “Really?” That surprised him. He could have sworn his heart was beating out a staccato rhythm worthy of a Caribbean steel drum band. “Are you a nurse?”

  Confusion fleeted across her face. “Well... yes, sort of.” She gulped. “I need to ask you a few medical questions.”

  “Go ahead.” He would tell her almost anything if it would keep her nearby. Who needed a normal pulse rate, anyway?

  “When did you have your last complete physical?” She studied him intently, as if his answer mattered to her in some personal way. “Last month.”

  “Blood work, too?”

  “Of course.” He groaned as pain spiked through his ankle. “My business... insurance requires it.”

  “How are your personal habits?” Long, dark lashes screened her gaze, and he could have sworn her cheeks were turning pink. “Sexually speaking.”

  “Cautious. What’s that got to do with my ankle?”

  “You hurt your ankle?”

  This was the oddest medical exam he’d ever had. “That’s right, Nurse.” Ryder would have said more, but his peripheral vision caught a flash of movement. He turned to see two men carting Joe the 0 away on a stretcher. “I have to catch up with him. Could you help me...”

  Out of nowhere loomed a young fellow in a white ski jacket. “I’m Dr. Witt, the house physician. Are you hurt?”

  “It’s his ankle,” the black-haired woman explained, and moved back to give the doctor room. To Ryder’s relief, she showed no sign of leaving. He wasn’t sure why he was anxious for her to stay. Just curiosity, he supposed. And the fact that his blood was singing a ballad of masculine desire. Of course, he knew better than to follow through on it. This lady was too fresh, too sexy, too well dressed, too weird, too everything.

  Below, the attendants were loading Joe into an ambulance. Ryder gestured toward them. “Where are they taking him?”

  “To the hospital, where they’re going to take you next,” said the doctor. Fighting to restrain a groan, Ryder sat up. He half expected the others to react to the scream of his muscles and the loud throbbing of his bruises, but no one seemed to hear them except the black-haired woman, who winced in empathy. “I might have sprained my ankle but I don’t need to be hospitalized.”

  “Right or left?”

  “Right.” As the fellow checked his leg, Ryder took out his cell phone and rapid-dialed the bail bondsman. To the doctor, he said, “What’s the name of the hospital?”

  “Saint Something-or-other. It’s the only one in town.” The man shrugged apologetically. “I just got here last week.”

  “Can I help with something?” asked the green-eyed lady, hovering over him like a guardian angel.

  “Just stay there,” Ryder said as he listened to the phone ring. “You inspire me.”

  She smiled. At the sight, his rigidly held libido flamed into a state of fevered longing. His body stopped hurting and started composing poetry.

  “Yeah, hello? Speak up!” snarled the bail bondsman into his ear. Tersely Ryder told him where he could find his missing client. “Bring him in yourself,” snapped the man.

  “I got injured during the pursuit.” Ryder knew Mr. O was due for arraignment in two days. If he weren’t brought in by then, the bail would be forfeited to the court. “No way I can get him there on time. I’m telling you right where he is, flat on his back. You want him or not?”

  The man thought it over for a split second. “Yeah, okay.”

  “You know where to send the check.” Ryder had dealt with the man before.

  “Yeah.” With no further ado, the bail bondsman hung up.

  “It doesn’t seem to be broken,” said the doctor. “But I’d recommend an X ray, to make sure.”

  Ryder hated hospitals. Lying around being poked and scanned was not his idea of a productive activity. “Just wrap it, will you?”

  “I’m happy to do that, but I don’t see how I can discharge you yet,” the doctor said. “You incurred quite a jolt. Any dizziness? Nausea?”

  “Only at the thought of hospital food.”

  The doctor’s forehead puckered. “There could be undetected brain injury. The swelling sometimes doesn’t show up until later.”

  “I can take care of him,” volunteered the guardian angel, ignoring the fact that half the males on the slope were staring at her. In fact, if she didn’t depart soon, Ryder figured the accident rate around here would start soaring. “If he gets sick, I could bring him to the emergency room.”

  The doctor gestured to a resort employee, who hurried to help support Ryder. “Then I guess we can take care of your husband in my clinic, ma’am. We’ll just need for him to sign a waiver.”

  “Fine,” Ryder said.

  The woman kept close behind as they descended. He was glad she hadn’t denied being his wife, under the circumstances. But why was she acting so friendly? Maybe she thought she knew him from somewhere. Ryder was certain he’d never seen her before. He would have remembered.

  Could she be a con artist who’d mistaken him for a millionaire ski buff? Not in these worn jeans and patched jacket. The thrift shop ski boots weren’t particularly impressive, either. Maybe she was a Good Samaritan. If not, he would figure out her game soon enough.

  A short time later, his ankle bandaged and a pair of lightweight crutches tucked under his arms, Ryder was a free man. In no shape to drive, though.

  “I’ll give you a lift.” The woman accompanied him out of the building, moving with such grace that he felt like a robot clunking along beside her. “After all, you saved that little girl. You’re a hero.”

  Once upon a time, that description might have thrilled Ryder Kelly, the kid from a trailer park who’d set out to conquer the world. Now it just made him wary. He wasn’t anybody’s hero. But he did need a ride. Not to mention the kind of loving care this lady seemed willing to give.

  He knew he was being foolish. This looked like a setup if he’d ever seen one. Or else an invitation to a dance from which he would have to excuse himself too soon for the lady’s taste.

  However, in his current condition, Ryder was willing to let this vision play her little game a while longer. Especially since he was still light-headed from the painkiller the doctor had given him.

  *

  Boris Grissofsky’s phone rang during a most inconvenient moment in the apartment of his mistress. It was several minutes before he could excuse himself to go outside onto the square, on the pretext of having a smoke, and return the missed call. He lit up, inhaled deeply and pressed a number he recognized as that of his personal assistant.

  “Lothaire Warner here.”

  “It’s me. What do you want?” Boris frowned as people brushed past him. Always in a rush, never paying him enough respect. On the plus side, Sofia, Bulgaria, had excellent cell phone coverage.

  “I have received word from Miss De La Pena’s maid that she has left the château and caught a flight to
New York.” The young assistant had accompanied Boris on his recent visit to the De La Penas, and had secured a spy within the inner sanctum.

  “New York?” During the visit, Annalisa had barely spoken to Boris, but her parents had been most talkative. No one had mentioned any upcoming trips, however. “For what purpose?”

  “According to the maid, she left a note saying that she planned to see a friend and would return on Tuesday.”

  “Does the maid know of any friends in America, male or female?”

  “No.”

  Boris gritted his teeth, which had the effect of chomping his Turkish cigarette in half. Coughing and choking, he spat the harsh tobacco into the road, narrowly missing a girl on a motor scooter. She shot him an ugly gesture as she zoomed past.

  This was disturbing news, too disturbing for him to waste his energy capturing the rude cyclist’s license number. The ice princess had made it clear she didn’t like Boris. He didn’t much like her, either. But he liked her money, and her reputation for obedience. She would marry him. She must marry him. He owed a fortune to a group of Russian gangsters, and they were not known for their patience.

  This trip to America might indicate rebellion on Annalisa’s part. Or perhaps it was only a childish escapade meant to annoy her parents. He must not panic. “Find out where she goes after she lands.”

  “Naturally,” said his assistant. Lothaire had a way with computers and had already scoped out the family’s credit card numbers, so she shouldn’t be difficult to track. Boris hoped, for all their sakes, that the pretty heiress would jet home again like a good girl.

  If not, he would do whatever he must to bring her in line. Once they were married, there would be no more such stunts. What Boris owned, he controlled absolutely. Whether she liked it or not, Miss De La Pena was soon to join his list of possessions.

  *

  Lisa couldn’t believe she’d actually talked Ryder Kelly into entering her rental car. She supposed he must be wondering at her sudden interest, but didn’t men and women frequently meet this way, more or less?

  It was beyond Lisa’s experience, of course. Like practically everything that had happened in the past month. She’d been correct in guessing that a meeting with Boris had already been scheduled. Little more than a week after she learned of his existence, he’d shown up at the château, full of shallow flattery and hints about his vast wealth.

  She loathed the possessive way he stared at her. She loathed his habit, when he held her hand, of twiddling his fingers and rubbing his thumb back and forth. Everything about him made her skin crawl.

  To her dismay, there had been talk of a wedding. Perhaps at Christmas, her mother had said. Why not early fall, while the weather was fine? Boris had countered. The sooner the better, in his opinion.

  After he left, Lisa had tried to persuade her parents that he was unsuitable. Her mother’s back had stiffened and she’d averted her gaze. Schuyler had shouted angrily that his daughter was selfish and ungrateful. Every night, she’d gone to bed with her heart aching and tears pricking her eyes. The only consolation had been the ovulation kit she picked up in the village and the support from Maureen and Nicola.

  Maureen had contacted Ryder’s office pretending to work for a large corporation that wanted to hire him in a hurry and learned that he was at a ski resort in Colorado. Lisa had promptly reserved a round-trip flight with a prepaid debit card. She’d also, with the aid of Maureen’s boyfriend, acquired a fake Swiss driver’s license, which had arrived tucked inside a fashion magazine to foil her mother’s snooping.

  As she navigated the road from the ski slopes to the town below, Lisa sneaked a glance at the man beside her. With his long legs and broad shoulders, he did an impressive job of filling the front seat. From the moment she’d spotted him on top of the mountain, Lisa had become aware of his restless energy. He had riveted her attention even before she recognized him.

  In this enclosed space, she could feel the air vibrating. It was hard to believe the man’s sexual habits were as cautious as he’d indicated. Lisa wished she knew more about the subject. Her parents shielded her from risqué movies and books, and while she’d acquired a textbook knowledge of what intercourse involved, she had trouble reconciling it with the longing she felt to be held and stroked.

  It scared and excited her to realize she was about to discover the facts for herself. Here sat Ryder Kelly, masculinity personified, complete with watchful brown eyes and a hard, agile body. Also, as far as she and her friends had been able to determine, a clean bill of health, except for that injured ankle.

  I’m going to make love to this man. We’ll take our clothes off and I’ll let him touch me everywhere. Or would he expect her to initiate the action and, if so, how should she start? Nearly blinded by panic, Lisa slowed the car.

  “Something wrong?” asked her passenger.

  “I wondered where you’re staying,” she said through a clogged throat.

  “Turn right at the stop sign,” he said. “Go up the hill, take the second left. It’s the fourth house on the right.”

  “Thanks.” She could drop him off, Lisa told herself. She could drive away a virgin. Intact. Safe.

  Until she walked down the aisle with Boris. Anything but that!

  According to the ovulation kit, the timing was perfect. This weekend. This man. She had to do it

  What if his ankle hurt too much? Maybe she should call Maureen for instructions. No. She had sworn to have no contact with anyone she knew, not while she was here in disguise. To throw off her parents, she’d brought only a disposable phone for emergencies.

  “You know,” murmured a baritone voice, “I’m not big on small talk. But would it be too much of a strain to tell me your name?”

  “Lisa Schmidt,” she said. True enough, as far as it went.

  He waited, then added, “This is the part where you ask my name.”

  “I heard you tell the doctor,” she said. “So, we can move on to some other scintillating topic.”

  Tilting his head, he regarded her with amused irony. “Let’s see, you’re a nurse. Where do you live?”

  In the story Lisa had prepared, she was an executive from a multinational firm, scouting ski resorts for acquisition. Not a nurse. She’d seized on Ryder’s suggestion because it provided an excuse to ask medical questions. Now she had to come up with a new scenario on the fly.

  “I’m from Florida.” It was the first thing that popped into her mind. Crazy idea. All she knew about Florida was that they had Disney World and alligators.

  “Florida in general or some city in particular?”

  “Miami,” she said, and instantly realized that she had mispronounced it.

  “Mee-ami?” he said.

  “Spain, before that,” Lisa improvised. Realizing he was likely to ask for a city, she added, “Barcelona.” At least she knew how to pronounce that.

  “I didn’t realize nurses moved around so much.”

  “I’m a student nurse,” she said. Please don’t ask the name of my school.

  “Who specializes in asking accident victims about their sexual habits?”

  Lisa started to laugh. This conversation was rapidly turning ridiculous, and she couldn’t pretend otherwise. “All right, I’m not a nurse.”

  “And you don’t live in Mee-ami?”

  “No.”

  “Care to tell me where you really live and what you really do?”

  “No.” Brilliant, Lisa.

  They reached the top of the hill, and she turned left. “You could have said you were an insurance claims adjuster for the ski resort.” He quirked an eyebrow.

  “Would you have believed me?” He shook his head. “There you have it. Ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies.”

  “Oh, but I think I’ve earned the right to ask you one particular question.” His tone was low and dark. It sent electricity sparking through her nervous system.

  “And what might that be?”

  “What are your sexua
l habits?”

  The fourth house on the right was a two-story A-frame constructed of split logs with scalloped Swiss-style trim. Push had come to shove. “I guess you’re about to find out,” said Lisa.

  Chapter Three

  Nothing about this woman made sense, which aroused Ryder’s suspicions. Unfortunately, she also aroused him, period.

  He knew only two things for sure about Lisa Schmidt. She was an irresistible mixture of jumpy naïveté and barely restrained sexuality. And she was a lousy liar.

  Not a con artist, then. More likely a young professional on holiday, letting her hair down and seeking a little anonymous fun. Ryder didn’t intend to serve as casual entertainment, not even for a woman beautiful enough to make his socks stand up under their own power.

  “Aren’t you taking me for granted?” he inquired as the car halted in front of the chalet. “I’ve already told you my sexual habits are cautious.”

  Her green eyes widened and her lips curved ruefully. “You’re right, I was making an assumption. I hope you’re not offended.”

  He swung his door open and reached into the back for his crutches. “I’m not. Nor am I available. Thanks for the ride, Lisa, and I hope you enjoy your vacation.”

  “You can’t send me away!” The alarm in her voice stopped him.

  “Why not?”

  “You need me.”

  “I do?” he said.

  “Someone will have to drive you back tomorrow to pick up your car,” she said.

  How far did she intend to press the matter? “I’ll call a cab.”

  “Well, I need you.”

  That was more promising. This way, just possibly, lay the truth. “For what?” he said.

  “Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you.” Without waiting for a response, Lisa opened her door and came around to assist him.