Let's Make a Baby!

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “You want to join us?” Lisa called impulsively. When Ginger didn’t respond, she added, “You could try modeling!”

  The girl made a face. “It’s not my style.”

  “You can’t be sure unless you try.”

  Her lip curled into a sneer. “I wouldn’t do it unless I got paid.”

  Mercifully, the crowd was thinning. Buffy and Starr wandered a few doors down, showing off their sarongs to two lifeguards waiting in the hamburger line. Lisa walked over to Ginger. “Hi, I’m Lisa.”

  “Who cares?”

  How rude. Lisa held onto her temper, however. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not a model type and everybody knows it.” Ginger thrust her chin into the air. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “You could do it as well as Buffy and Starr.” Lisa indicated the other girls.

  “Oh, please! Don’t compare me to those dorks.”

  The girl had a massive chip on her shoulder. No doubt it was covering up insecurity and vulnerability, but did she have to act so obnoxious? “Is there anybody you don’t dislike?” Lisa asked.

  “I don’t dislike them.” Ginger adjusted her shoulder strap. “Or you, much.”

  “You could have fooled me,” Lisa shot back. “I offered you a chance to have fun and you threw it in my face.”

  “How would you understand? Even all banged-up, you’re still gorgeous.” Ginger wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You have it easy.”

  While that was no excuse for acting snide, Lisa’s goal was to persuade the girl to return home, not to chastise her. Or analyze her, either. “You staying at the beach this week?” she asked.

  “None of your business,” Ginger retorted with a trace of nervousness, and turned away.

  Despite the urge to grab her, Lisa had no right to restrain the girl. Besides, it would only antagonize her.

  A lifeguard vehicle jounced by on the sand. People moved out of the way, and in the shifting of the crowd, Ginger vanished. Only then did it hit Lisa that she should have called Ryder. She’d had their quarry in her sights and tried to handle the situation alone, and she’d blown it. He was going to be furious.

  Sick at heart, she went inside. Her two young assistants were still flirting with the lifeguards, and the only customer in the store finished browsing and left. “You’ve done well,” Ryder said. “We moved three sarongs, two bikinis, a sunhat and quite a few odds and ends. If Biff carried scarves like yours, we could have sold half a dozen.”

  “I saw Ginger,” Lisa said.

  He stiffened. “When? Where?”

  “She stopped to watch us modeling.” Lisa went inside the changing booth. While she stripped off the swimsuit, she related the conversation. “I’m surprised she can walk, with that massive chip on her shoulder,” she concluded, and braced for his response.

  It was a lot gentler than Lisa had expected. “She’s obviously not ready to go home, but she doesn’t exactly sound happy here, does she?”

  “Hardly.” Lisa pulled on her own new sarong. “I feel bad for her, but she’s not very likable.”

  “Not around grown-ups, anyway.”

  “Ryder, I’m sorry.” She emerged from the booth and faced him squarely. “I tried to hold my negative feelings in check, but maybe she picked them up. If I’d been nicer, she might have stayed. In any case, I should have called you.”

  He leaned against the counter. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “As far as Ginger believes, you’re just a lady at the surf shop. Not oozing warmth, maybe, but someone she could talk to in a pinch. She might return if she gets scared.”

  Lisa hadn’t considered that. “I hope so.”

  A surfer entered to check out their selection of stick-on tattoos. After he bought a packet and left, Lisa said, “You never told me why she ran away.”

  “Last Friday, she had an argument with her father about grades. He admits he called her spoiled and lazy. When he got home from work, she was gone. She must have just packed and left.”

  “Like me,” Lisa reflected. “At the chalet. But I don’t think I was mad at you.”

  “And you found me again, hmm?” Ryder plucked a loose thread from Lisa’s shoulder. “You’re half-naked in that outfit.”

  “It’s perfectly respectable!” she protested. “It covers everything.”

  “Everything?” He ran a finger along the upper edge of the dress, tracing a fiery path across Lisa’s cleavage. “Another few inches lower and you could nurse a baby.”

  Baby. An image stirred in the back of her mind. Could she have left a baby somewhere? Surely she wouldn’t have forgotten that!

  “Lisa?”

  “I almost remembered something,” she admitted. “About a baby.”

  “We quarreled about having children.” He lowered his forehead until it touched hers. “I told you I didn’t want any and for some reason it upset you.”

  “I like kids.” Lifting her arms, Lisa draped them around his neck. “You’d be a terrific father, Ryder.”

  She expected him to draw away, but he didn’t. “I chose not to think about it at the time, but maybe that’s why you left.”

  “Because you didn’t want kids? Did I make a big fuss about it?”

  “No, but I could feel you withdrawing. Not that we were anywhere close to committing to each other.” His voice vibrated in her ear. “Maybe you gave up on me.”

  Maybe she had left for that reason. Certainly his remark troubled her. “Why are you so sure you don’t you want children?”

  “They tie you down.” The answer slipped out readily.

  “So does anything that matters,” Lisa said.

  His forehead rubbed hers as he shook his head in disagreement. “Kids are different. They’re a constant drain—attention, money, discipline. I don’t have that much to give.”

  She bit her lip in dismay. Lisa had the strangest sense of an imperative—to have a baby with this man.

  His arms encircled her waist and he drew her hips gently against his. “On the other hand, making them could be a lot of fun. Are you sure you’ve forgotten what we did?”

  Her blood heated like molten lava. “You could jog my memory,” she whispered, no longer caring what deep-seated differences lay between them. Just as the past had vanished, so had the future. The only thing that existed was his power, his contact, and the delicious sparks shooting through her. His mouth claimed hers, his tongue invading her mouth and his hands kneading her derriere.

  “Excuse me? Could we change now?” asked a female voice.

  Lisa stumbled back. To her embarrassment, she’d forgotten where they were and all about Buffy and Starr. “Oh, sure!”

  Uttering a low, growly noise, Ryder retreated behind the counter. His cheeks were flaming.

  The girls hurried into the dressing room. Giggles drifted out. They were always chuckling about something, Lisa told herself, but this time she knew exactly what had inspired their mirth.

  “To be continued,” said Ryder. “Anyway, we are supposed to be working.”

  After the girls emerged and departed with waves, Ryder called Ginger’s father to report that the girl was unharmed. “My associate made contact with her,” he explained.

  Nice term, Lisa thought. She liked being his associate.

  “Miss Schmidt didn’t identify herself as working for you. I think your daughter found her reasonably approachable.” He listened, then said, “Yes, we could knock on doors, but whoever she’s staying with probably wouldn’t tell us the truth. I think we’ll have a better chance of reaching her if we wait for her to come back of her own accord. Of course, there’s a risk. I’ll leave the decision to you.” The father apparently agreed, because Ryder concluded with, “We’ll be in touch as soon as we see her again.”

  “Now that we’ve confirmed she’s in the area, I’m surprised he isn’t hunting her down,” Lisa said.

  “If he drags her home, she’ll just run away again,” Ryder pointed out. “He
needs to gain her trust.”

  Lisa remembered what he’d told her earlier about the man in polyester. “What if that fellow shows up, the one in the alley?”

  A muscle jumped in Ryder’s jaw. “If he touches that girl, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands. Now would you mind putting on a shawl or a sweater or something?”

  She glanced down at her strapless dress. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “Not a thing. At least, not on the beach, where everybody reveals practically everything,” Ryder said. “However, it’s five o’clock and I’m not taking you out to dinner in an outfit that makes guys trip over their own tongues.”

  “You persuaded me,” Lisa admitted cheerfully. “Dinner’s the magic word.”

  As she retrieved her cardigan, her thoughts flew ahead, past dinner. Maybe they could finish the business that the girls had interrupted. Holding each other, awakening sensations that were new and yet familiar. The prospect of experiencing him in two different ways at once was almost too intense to contemplate.

  Double your pleasure, thought Lisa, and draped the sweater over her shoulders.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryder had no idea what he’d eaten for dinner. It had been, he gathered from his empty plate, some denizen of the deep, swimming in garlic and butter, accompanied by crisp-steamed vegetables and boiled potatoes. It must have been delicious.

  He was glad he didn’t have to write a review of the ambiance, either. Low lighting. Mermaid murals, tacky but appropriate to the locale. Also, there was a waiter named either Jeff or Dennis. He would have no trouble at all filing an in-depth report on Lisa, however.

  Eyes: as green as sea foam. Warm and vibrant. Overall appearance: bruises invisible in the reduced light. Scarf adding a note of mystery. Hair a dark mass begging his fingers to comb through it. Clothing: despite the sweater, the sarong remained provocative and tantalizing—make that maddening. He couldn’t help reflecting that the sarong fastened with just a few snaps. It would take little dexterity, and even less time, to whip it off.

  If only he didn’t have such a sharp tactile memory of her body in the shower, writhing against his. Of her mouth melting beneath his kiss and her hardened nipples teasing his chest. As the busboy carted off their dishes and the waiter appeared with a cart of desserts, Ryder felt himself growing ready for Lisa. Thank goodness for the heavy cloth napkin across his lap and the dim lighting.

  “I’ll pass,” she told the waiter.

  “Sir?”

  “Me, too.” No point in eating a bunch of calories he couldn’t taste. “Would you bring our check, please?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  “How’s your sunburn?” Lisa asked after the man left.

  “It’s formed a coalition with my ankle,” Ryder said.

  “You mean you hurt all over?”

  “Something like that.” He didn’t mention the keenest agony, the one in the middle.

  “Do you have any balm at home?” Lisa asked. “We could stop at a pharmacy.”

  “I’m sure I’ve got something.” After he paid the check, they walked out into a cool, starry evening. He’d left his car in the beach lot, several blocks away. The stroll raised protests from his ankle, but Lisa’s peaceful nearness more than compensated.

  As they neared the ocean, he saw fire pits glowing against the sand and inhaled the smoky scent of barbecuing. On the darkened beach, a few shadows moved—most likely sunbathers seeking lost possessions or overzealous joggers taking a final turn.

  He wondered if Ginger was out there. Maybe he’d been wrong to counsel Anthony Callas against hunting her down. Suppose she came to harm? It wasn’t Ryder’s nature to worry unduly, however. If the girl were going to get into trouble, she could just as easily do it in daylight.

  They had reached the car when a blur of movement near the rear bumper sent adrenaline jolting through him. Pushing Lisa behind him, Ryder crouched in a martial arts stance. A yowl split the night, and two cats raced past. With a hiss and another screech, they vanished across the nearly empty blacktop.

  Silently Ryder cursed himself, not for sounding a false alarm but for dropping his guard. In his search for Ginger and his logic-defying ache for Lisa, he’d forgotten she might be in danger. “Sorry,” he told her.

  “They startled me, too.”

  Unlocking the car, he held the passenger door and felt Lisa’s warmth as she passed him. A tendril of hair trailed across his cheek before vanishing.

  With her safely tucked inside, Ryder paused to survey his surroundings. He saw nothing amiss. If people were trying to harm Lisa, he felt almost certain that they’d lost the scent.

  In today’s world, though, everyone left a trail. Sooner or later she would be found. Tomorrow he would stay more alert. By then, too, perhaps her amnesia might lift.

  Ryder slid into the driver’s seat. “Anything come back to you today? From your past?”

  Lisa considered. “Tulips!” she said. “They were in a flower box, outside my room. Do people grow tulips around here?”

  While Ryder was no gardener, one of his secretaries had talked incessantly on the subject. “Not many. They need a winter chill, which we don’t get.”

  “I couldn’t see beyond the flower box,” Lisa added as they drove. “Tulips come from the Netherlands, don’t they?”

  “So I’ve heard,” Ryder said. “Why didn’t I think of it before? Schmidt could be Dutch. I don’t suppose people still wear wooden shoes.”

  She chuckled. “It sounds painful. What else do you associate with Holland?”

  “Canals,” he said.

  Her intake of breath cut through the air. “I can picture one! Running right down the middle of the street. And a glass-bottom boat sailing under a bridge.”

  That could be promising, or it could be a scene from a documentary. “Anything else?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  The rest of the short trip passed in silence. Ryder didn’t speak, mostly because he hoped Lisa might recover other memories. But if she did, she didn’t mention them.

  He circled the parking area before stopping. Normal, as far as he could tell. After Ryder checked the area, they climbed the stairs quickly. No sign of tampering greeted them outside the apartment. Inside, nothing had been disturbed, either.

  “Did you just move in here?” Lisa asked, eyeing the beige blandness of the living room.

  “Three years ago.”

  “Why haven’t you decorated?”

  “I hate clutter,” he said shortly. “Besides, I’m saving my money.”

  “For anything special?”

  “A house,” Ryder admitted. “It would mean a lot to own my home.”

  She regarded him wistfully. “Won’t it be awfully empty without a family?”

  He’d never thought that far ahead. Besides, sentimentality wasn’t Ryder’s strong point. “I’ll settle for peace and quiet.”

  Did she have to look so sad? Sad and seductive and breaking out in goose bumps from the dropping temperatures. Ryder stroked her upper arms. “You’re cold. That sweater’s awfully thin.”

  “There has to be a reason for all this,” Lisa said as if she hadn’t heard.

  “For what?” He drew her closer. Wanting to warm her. Aching to ease his own cold heart.

  “Why I found you in the first place,” she said. “And why I came back. I don’t mean a motive, I mean—your business card was the only clue I had to my identity. It’s as if I was meant to find you again.”

  “Dumb luck,” he whispered as he brushed his cheek across her temple. The one that wasn’t injured.

  Her fingers feathered across his chest. “It feels right, being with you.”

  “That’s because we’ve done this before.”

  “Obviously, we should do it again.” When her mouth met his, hot tickling pleasure spread through Ryder. The woman reverberated into his being. He wished he could take her slowly, coast on the edge of ecstasy without plunging over. All evening. All night. If t
ime stood still, he could make love to her forever, and Lisa would never have a chance to leave.

  Her tongue explored the edges of his teeth. Taunting him. His hands caught her waist, and he felt the snaps of the sarong. How easy it would be to give them a tug. His body registered delicious anticipation not only in his groin but all the way down to his fingertips.

  Ryder angled Lisa against him, no longer content to proceed slowly. What nonsense had he been thinking? He was close to losing control, even though he knew the risk he ran.

  Two words on white paper. “Sorry. Lisa.” Scraps in a wastebasket, too small to be worth piecing together. A chasm opening inside him. He refused to need anyone that badly, ever again.

  When Ryder drew back, he could tell from her dilated pupils and rapid breathing that Lisa shared his arousal. As cool air rushed in, she hugged herself to ward it off. She didn’t question him, or reach for him. Instead, she said, “You expect me to leave again.”

  When had she learned to read his mind? “Won’t you?”

  “I can’t make promises.” She shivered. “It all depends on why I left in the first place.”

  “Care to offer a scenario that would justify your walking away?” he growled.

  “If someone really is trying to kill me. And if they might kill you as well.”

  “I don’t need your protection.” Even as he spoke, Ryder sensed it was useless. Lisa had withdrawn from him in spirit as swiftly as he had withdrawn physically. Or perhaps she’d held a part of herself back all along. “Don’t do me any favors, Lisa.”

  “I’d rather stay,” she said.

  A ruthless anger pushed him onward. “But you don’t know what you left behind, right? Maybe you’ve already got a husband. Maybe...” But she’d been a virgin. Or had she tricked him? Such things could be faked, Ryder supposed.

  Moisture glittered in her eyes. “You don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you. I’m not sure I trust myself.”