This Little Baby

by Joyce Sullivan

  “Robbins phoned…” Gil lost track of his sentence as he lifted her easily into his arms, his senses completely scrambled by the drugging warmth of the silken-sweet woman’s body cradled against his ribs. She was so adept at ignoring the attraction that crackled like a match striking flint when they were together. At pretending it didn’t exist even when her nipples hardened into telltale buttons beneath her sweatshirt.

  But he couldn’t ignore it. His heart was racing at ninety miles an hour. It was all he could do not to let her shift down to his hips—to let his body communicate what words could not.

  “Did he say where Mikey was?” Paulina asked, tilting her chin up to see him. Her lips were so agonizingly close…

  Gil drew his gaze away. His legs felt weak. He aimed for the door and tried to concentrate on Mikey. How could he look at Mikey every day for the rest of his life and not think of Paulina? Of what she’d done for them both?

  “Mikey’s at Susan Clark-Fitzhugh’s home,” he managed to say.

  “Where does she live? Do the police know if anyone else was involved?” Her questions came at him faster than he could compute responses.

  Gil struggled to make his mind function, to respect her wishes and keep their relationship on a professional level. But as he carried her down the hall, he couldn’t help wishing she was peppering him with celebratory kisses rather than questions.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Nervous?” Paulina asked Gil, gripping his fingers as they sat in the back seat of an unmarked police car and watched Robbins direct a swarm of officers to surround the tan brick bungalow situated at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac in Nepean.

  Gil’s gaze was trained on the house. “On tenterhooks. What if he isn’t there—or it’s some other baby?”

  Paulina squeezed his fingers. “He’ll be there,” she said, wondering what it was about Gil that made her utter rash promises. “You and Mikey are meant to be together.”

  His eyes shifted, dark and curious, to her briefly. “How do you know that?”

  Paulina shrugged and immediately regretted the movement because a razor-edged pain slashed through her aching shoulders. But she was more concerned about the emotional wounds this case was inflicting on her than the physical ones. “I just know.”

  “Do you have any other predictions for the future, Ms. Stewart?”

  His question appeared innocuous, but Paulina sensed a trap. She had the uncomfortable notion he was asking if she could see a tall, dark and handsome man with indigo eyes in her future. The inference was there that he hoped she’d somehow changed her mind because it would make him happy. But his wording remained vague enough that she’d appear paranoid if she addressed that issue directly. Maybe she was being paranoid. Gil didn’t strike her as being the kind of man who’d settle for less than he wanted. He was driving her crazy.

  She rubbed her temples to soothe her frazzled wits. He was still waiting for an answer. She kept her voice carefully neutral. “Sorry, that’s the extent of my psychic abilities.”

  She darted a sideways glance at him. His lips were pressed together in a thin, accepting line. The police were entering the dwelling.

  Paulina craned her neck forward and felt Gil’s fingers stiffen in her own. Time stood still, the seconds stretching into what must have only been a few minutes but felt like an eternity. Gil’s sharp intake of breath echoed in her heart as an officer appeared on the front steps and motioned for the social worker from the Children’s Aid Society to enter the house.

  “That’s it—he’s there!” Gil said thickly. “Please, God, let it be Mikey.”

  Paulina added a silent prayer of her own and pressed her left hand to her mouth to suppress the hope rising in her heart like a geyser on the verge of spouting. She saw a movement in the doorway. Then the social worker walked out of the house, holding a plump, downy-haired infant on her hip.

  Paulina’s eyes watered and spilled over.

  “It’s him! Oh, God, Mikey—” Gil’s jubilant cry broke off abruptly. She saw tears trace his cheek as he released her hand and fumbled for the door latch, but the officer who stood guard outside the car sent him a warning look. “Damn!” Gil slammed his hand in a futile gesture against the glass.

  Paulina watched, her heart locked in a vise, as Robbins conferred with the social worker. Was he inquiring which foster home Mikey would be sent to? With a choked sob, Paulina scooted across the seat as Gil’s rigid shoulders heaved beneath his gray flannel shirt. She pressed her mouth against the rock-hard muscles in a kiss meant to comfort, and locked her arms around his waist. It seemed so unfair the police wouldn’t let Gil see Mikey, much less hold him. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “you’ll have him in your arms soon. Didn’t I tell you some things were meant to be?”

  He nodded as a shudder racked through him.

  Paulina raised her head and looked out the window. Her mouth dropped open in surprise and gratitude. Robbins was escorting the social worker and Mikey straight toward them! “Gil, look!”

  So Robbins had a heart, after all. The detective motioned to the uniformed officer to open the door for Gil.

  “I’m not supposed to do this,” he cautioned Gil, “but I have kids of my own. Just a quick hug.”

  Paulina thought she would never forget the way Gil’s arms tenderly circled Mikey and drew him next to his heart. Tears blurred her vision as Gil planted a kiss on Mikey’s forehead and murmured thickly, “Oh, buddy, am I glad to see you.” Mikey gurgled and bestowed his uncle with a wide-eyed smile that was truly adorable. These two guys belonged together. Paulina wiped her damp palm on her sweatshirt and leaned out of the police car to tweak Mikey’s toe, feeling emotionally gratified by the brief contact. Mikey looked healthy and well cared for—any parent’s joy.

  Already the social worker was reaching out for Mikey. Gil reluctantly handed him over and Mikey started to whimper. “You’re going to go with this nice lady here for a few days, buddy,” Gil explained, reassuring him, “but pretty soon I’ll bring you home for good. I promise.”

  Paulina reached for Gil’s hand as he rejoined her in the back seat, holding it tightly as Mikey was loaded into another car and driven away.

  Finally, it was over. She could post Mikey’s picture on her Found wall and take up where she’d left off on her other cases.

  So, why, then—despite her cataclysmic relief at Mikey’s being found alive and well—did she feel so scared? Paulina had no time to examine the feeling. A woman, presumably Susan Clark-Fitzhugh, was led out of the house in handcuffs, and Zuker came to join them in the police car.

  Gil ran a hand through his hair. “What happens now?” he quietly asked the two detectives. He looked haggard and tired. But Paulina could see the steel of his strong will beneath the exhaustion.

  “A sample of Mikey’s DNA will be compared with samples saved from Cindy’s autopsy,” Robbins explained. “Once his identity is established, it’s a question of you proving to the Children’s Aid Society that you’re capable of caring for him. A social worker will contact you tomorrow and set up an appointment. The process usually takes two to three weeks—provided there are no countermotions for custody.”

  Gil nodded. “Good. Thank you.”

  “No. Thank you, Mr. Boyer,” Robbins replied with candid frankness. “As cops, we don’t like citizens poking their noses in our work, but there’s no question that we might not have found your nephew if you hadn’t hired Ms. Stewart.”

  Paulina hoped her bruises concealed the blush this unexpected praise brought to her cheeks.

  “And you deserve all the credit for saving Ms. Stewart’s life yesterday,” Robbins went on. “Lydia Kosak and her boyfriend, Doug Clark, had been operating right under her boss’s nose—culling clients from his reject list and matching them up with mothers willing to sell a five-dollar charm bracelet to the adopting parents for fifteen grand.

  “That dame even had contacts in government offices provide her with legitimate birth certificates,” Zuker adde
d. “We’ll be investigating that for some time to come. The RCMP will launch a parallel investigation.”

  Robbins loosened his tie. “The deal with Susan ClarkFitzhugh was that she could work off the price of a child by providing this service for them. Apparently, she was supposed to receive the next child. She doesn’t know about Doug yet. Her husband works for Statistics Canada, we’re not sure of the extent of his involvement. We had another team pick him up at work.”

  “Did Francine Loiselle give a statement?” Paulina asked. “I heard Lydia and Doug admit to Francine that they killed Cindy and Jean-Luc.”

  “We got Ms. Loiselle’s statement to that effect.”

  Paulina frowned. “What’s going to happen to her? She didn’t know anything about the killings. My intern told me that Francine called my office and said I was in danger. I couldn’t have gotten out of that minivan without her help.” Just the mention of her narrow escape yesterday made Paulina shudder.

  “She’ll be charged with conspiracy to commit abduction, but she’ll probably be allowed to plea-bargain in exchange for testifying against Clark-Fitzhugh.”

  “At least that ties everything up,” Paulina said.

  Zuker grinned. “Not quite. Elva Madre arrived home from her holiday this afternoon and found one of our men waiting for her. She disclosed that Cindy had phoned her to discuss giving Mikey up for adoption. Apparently, Cindy’s new boyfriend didn’t want the baby and he didn’t think Cindy was a very good mother. Elva told Cindy she had to do what was best for herself and her baby. She suggested Cindy needed to decide if her new boyfriend was the type of man she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with.”

  Zuker paused. “When you approached her, Ms. Stewart, Elva was worried her advice had sent Cindy to her death. She needed time to think things out. We had trouble finding her because she’d gone to stay at a friend’s cottage.”

  “So Cindy made up the story about her mother watching the baby for the travel agent’s benefit,” Paulina mused.

  “That’s what we think,” Zuker glanced at Robbins for confirmation. “And it turns out Ed Tweedie’s alibi was solid for the day that infant was abducted in Swift Current. His car had broken down and it sat in a repair shop for three days waiting for parts while he was at the homebuilding event. He had no means of transportation.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Paulina murmured, feeling the fatigue sweeping back into her battered body in the wake of elation. “He tried to help Cindy. Not too many people these days would take the time to listen to a troubled stranger.” She blinked tiredly, longing to be home in her own bed. She was not going to fall asleep in front of these two detectives.

  Gil’s arm settled around her shoulders, propping her up.

  “I think Ms. Stewart’s had enough excitement,” he told the detectives.

  Paulina smothered a smile. For once—and probably because her defenses were low and she was too bushed to object—she admitted to herself it was nice to have a man looking after her.

  PAULINA HUNG UP THE PHONE in her darkened bedroom and let the small miracle of her phone conversation with her mother settle into her heart. Her mouth curved into a tremulous smile as she hugged her knees tightly to her chest. She’d been terrified she was just setting herself up for more hurt by trying to extend the olive branch, but her mother had actually agreed to come to Ottawa in November to celebrate her fiftieth birthday. Would wonders never cease?

  She lifted her head as a light knock sounded on her door.

  “You okay?” Gil asked, swinging her door inward. “I heard your voice.” The light from the hallway silhouetted his massive form, making him more of a shadow man than ever.

  Paulina sniffed at the analogy and wiped her teardampened cheeks on the knees of her sweatpants as he walked around the foot of her bed, the light from the hallway illuminating his path. “I called my mom. I told her I wanted to make peace.”

  His hand gently cupped her head.

  “Ah, and did you?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m glad.” His voice took on a husky tinge that rippled softly over her skin. “I want you to be happy, Paulina.”

  She gazed up at his silhouette in the dark. He’d invaded her life so completely. She wouldn’t be able to go to bed at night for a long time without thinking of him. He’d be like a shadow, hovering in the back of her mind. Tomorrow she had to send him back to his life. He had plans to make for Mikey’s arrival. “I want you to be happy, too, Gil,” she said wistfully.

  He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry? I made dinner.”

  “I’m starving.”

  “Come here, then.” He reached for her and she needed no second invitation to be picked up and held by him—if even for the twenty seconds it took for him to carry her down the hall.

  Her stomach growled at the appetizing scents of pasta and garlic wafting from her compact kitchen. She gasped as Gil carried her into the living room. The room was bathed in candlelight from her emergency supply of candles for power outages. He’d pushed the round oak table that served as a dining table close to the window and two white candles were nestled in crystal candlestick holders, twin flames flickering like stars. He’d dug a damask tablecloth and cloth napkins from her cupboards. There was even a vase filled with a dozen fresh red roses on the table and a bottle of red wine breathing on the table. Two steaming plates of fettuccine with a mushroom-and-cream sauce and fresh garden salads were set out along with crisp rounds of baguette. Paulina had no idea how he’d accomplished this feat so quickly, but it was pretty impressive. He set her down in a chair. Paulina had to mentally tell herself to unhook her arms from around his neck.

  “What’s this?” she asked, not quite trusting herself to speak.

  Gil smiled wryly at the tremor of panic in her voice and wondered how to answer her question. He knew she was worried the flowers and the candles were a romantic overture. “This is a celebration for a job well done,” he said quietly.

  “Oh.” She fingered the stem of her wineglass. Was she relieved? Disappointed?

  God, he couldn’t tell. Did it matter?

  His chest contracted with a pain that was dull and bittersweet. He loved her. And he’d bet his consulting firm that the stubbornly independent woman who was studiously avoiding meeting his eyes, cared about him, too. More than she was willing to admit.

  Maybe even loved him.

  Gil sat down and reached for the bottle of burgundy. He filled her glass, watching her covertly. She’d kissed him in the police car today. He could point to the exact spot where her lips had pressed against his shoulder. She’d kissed him of her own accord. Maybe she hadn’t even realized she’d done it, but Gil knew the gesture came from her heart. There was an undeniable connection between them. And a powerful amount of sexual attraction.

  But they were both smart enough to know that love and great sex weren’t the only ingredients in a recipe for marital happiness. Gil needed a wife who could be a mother to his nephew and Paulina had different needs just now.

  Gil couldn’t fault her for her choices. Without her gift and talent, he wouldn’t have Mikey. Tomorrow he’d face the challenge of convincing the authorities he could properly raise his nephew. Surely they couldn’t turn him down. No amount of procedural red tape was going to stop Gil from bringing Mikey home at last.

  Gil filled his glass, the gentle gurgle of the wine emptying into the crystal goblet the only sound. He set the bottle on the table and raised his glass to her. “I’d like to make a toast.”

  Paulina’s starry eyes lifted and locked with his, the raw honesty in them cutting him to the heart.

  “Uh-oh,” she said teasingly, “you’re not trying to butter me up so I’ll pare down your bill, are you? If you are, it won’t work.”

  “I’d never dream of it. You’re worth every penny—even if you do interrupt toasts.” He feigned a menacing frown at her, then started over, emotion creeping into his words. “Thank you for bringing Mikey back into
my life. I wish you as much success with all your cases—just try to stay away from bridges and minivans.”

  “I promise,” she said with a laugh and drew a cross over her heart with her finger.

  A pleasing ting rang out as their wineglasses touched. Gil took a sip and swallowed.

  “I have a toast myself,” Paulina said. “To Gil—who’s already proven he has what it takes to be a father. Mikey’s a lucky kid to have you in his life.”

  Gil had to bite his tongue to keep from adding spontaneously, There’s room for you, if you ever change your mind.

  They drank again. Then Paulina picked up her fork and speared a piece of romaine lettuce. “I hate to admit it, but you were a good partner. You caught on fast.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to refund me the extra money I paid you to let me tag along?” Gil asked.

  “No way. To quote you, ‘You’re worth every penny.’“

  They ate their meal, sending teasing barbs at one another across the table.

  “Absolutely delicious,” Paulina proclaimed when she’d cleared her plate and Gil was working on second helpings. “I had no idea you could cook.”

  “If you’re as big as I am, feeding yourself is a prime concern. But my recipe base is limited.”

  She patted her stomach in appreciation and leaned back in her chair. “This was fun. A good way to say goodbye.”

  The happiness of the evening slipped away from Gil like the high after a hard-won game when reality filtered back in. She’d kicked the door shut on his feelings for her. His gaze flew to her face, trying to read her thoughts. It was time to knuckle down, focus on the long-term goals, nobly accept defeat. “Is it good-bye already?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

  She nodded, her gray eyes solemn. “You’ve got to prepare for Mikey’s homecoming. And I’ve got to pack my bags for Australia. I’ll be gone for a couple of weeks.”

  “But you can’t even walk,” Gil protested.

  She waved her hand at him. “I’ll manage. I called Andrea before I talked to my mother. She’ll take over for you at eight tomorrow morning.”