The Baby Track (9 page)

“Courtney, I wouldn’t be ideal with anyone,” Michelle protested with a slight laugh. “Not now.” She stood up and walked out of the room.

Courtney followed her. Michelle had gone into the kitchen and was petting her Siamese cat, Burton, who was lounging on a place mat on the kitchen table. Michelle always traveled with whatever pet cat she happened to own at the time. Courtney could remember her coming to visit as a child, clutching Fluffy, her soft white albino cat with its odd pink eyes. Three days ago she’d arrived here with the sleek seal point Siamese that she’d acquired several years ago.

“What do you mean, not now?” Courtney asked, staring from her blue-eyed stepsister to the blue-eyed cat. “Is something wrong, Michelle?”

It was a question that she should have asked three days ago when Michelle and Burt had arrived for this unscheduled visit, Courtney acknowledged ruefully. But things had been unusually hectic at work, and she’d been so preoccupied with her adoption story that she hadn’t paused to wonder if there was a deeper reason for Michelle’s impromptu visit other than she “had a few days off and felt like getting out of town.”

Michelle caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Nothing’s wrong, Courtney.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve just been under a lot of pressure—at—at work, that’s all.”

She smiled, but Courtney noticed that her big, blue eyes were sad. Haunted, even.

“I thought you loved your job.” Frowning, Courtney sat down on the high stool beside the counter. She couldn’t remember Michelle ever complaining about her job as an administrative aide to a Pennsylvania state senator. Michelle had been an exceptional student who’d excelled all through school, and to no one’s surprise, she excelled at her job, too.

“Oh, I do. But you know how it is—sometimes things get cra
z
y.” Michelle continued to pet the cat. “I really appreciate your letting me stay here for a few days, Courtney. It’s great to just be away from—everything.”

“You know you’re welcome here anytime, Michelle,” said Courtney, meaning it. The feeling that Michelle was hiding something was growing stronger by the minute. And then she remembered... if all went as planned in the Wilson Nollier interview tomorrow, she was supposed to leave for Shadyside Falls in the afternoon.

“Oh, Michelle!” she cried in dismay, and then launched into an explanation of the adoption story and her collaborative investigation with Connor McKay.

If Michelle was upset by the prospect of Courtney’s departure, she covered it masterfully. “I’m glad you’re going to do something that might help Mark and Marianne get a baby. They want one so much, and they’ll make terrific parents,” she said, her blue eyes shining with sincerity. “And don’t worry about me, Courtney. If you don’t mind, Burton and I will stay here a couple more days before we head back. I’d love to do some sightseeing in the city. Aren’t the cherry blossoms at their peak in April?”

Courtney’s suspicions faded. She decided that she was feeling unnerved and anxious herself and had projected those feelings onto Michelle. “Stay as long as you like,” she said warmly. “Although I don’t recommend taking Burt on a tour of the White House. The First Dog might object.”

“Burton doesn’t do sightseeing, anyway. He’ll be glad to sit here in the apartment and watch the birds from your kitchen window.”

The cat meowed, as if in assent, and the two women laughed.

“Courtney, about this man who’s going to pretend to be your husband,” Michelle said carefully. “What’s he like?” “What’s he like? Now there’s a question!” Courtney’s dark eyes flashed. “He’s the most maddening, unfathomable man I’ve ever met. He makes me furious, but he makes me laugh, too. He’s really smart, but sometimes he’s so smart-alecky, I want to deck him.”

“You?” Michelle looked astonished. “You’ve never decked anyone or anything in your entire life or ever wanted to—at least not as long as I’ve know you, and that’s been since we were both four.”

“I know, I know.” Courtney threw up her hands. “But Connor McKay really gets to me.”

“I see.”

“No, no, I don’t mean
that
way,” Courtney hastened to | assure her. “I mean, our—our personalities—clash. We’re so different.” And she was rapidly becoming inarticulate. She blushed.

Michelle surveyed her skeptically. “Opposites attract. And sometimes the chemistry can be explosive.”

How well she knew! Courtney’s blush deepened.

“You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?” Michelle pressed. “I don’t have to give in to it,” Courtney insisted stubbornly. “As Daddy always says, we don’t have to act on every thought or feeling that we have.”

“That’s vintage Carey philosophy.” Michelle’s voice trembled. “I used to be a fervent believer in it myself. I thought there were no feelings that couldn’t be controlled with sufficient willpower.”

She gave her head a quick shake, as if to clear it. “Be careful, Courtney. Even though Dad says it isn’t possible, there are certain—forces that can bend even the strongest will. Sex is one of them. When the sex is good between them, a woman can become so vulnerable and dependent on the man that nothing, not willpower or common sense or anything else, can set her free. Sexual pleasure is such a powerful reward that a woman finds the man who gives it to her irresistible. So never, never get sexually hooked on a man who’s wrong for you.”

Courtney’s eyes widened in concern. “Michelle, are you speaking from experience? Are you involved with a man who—”

“No! No, of course not! You mustn’t take me literally, Courtney. I was merely quoting a magazine article I read recently. It seemed apt, if a bit melodramatic.” Michelle flashed a smile so dazzling that Courtney had to blink.

Courtney gave her a measuring look. Michelle’s dire words had chilled her. Was she really only quoting a magazine article? Carey family dogma held that the brilliant, organized and ever-perfect Michelle never had problems. Now Courtney wasn’t so sure.

“Michelle, you know you can tell me anything and I’ll do whatever I can to—”

“Courtney, I’m fine.” Michelle reached for Courtney’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “My little sis. You’ve always been so intense.”

Courtney took her cue and dropped the subject of sex with the wrong man. Maybe Michelle really had been reading a magazine article.
“
Little sis?
”
she said lightly. “I’m only five months younger than you.”

“That still makes you the baby of the family.” Michelle gathered the cat into her arms and smiled again at Courtney. “I think Burton and I will turn in. I’ll start making up the sofa bed.”

“You can sleep with me in my room. I’ve got a double bed.” Courtney made the offer she had been making since the first night Michelle arrived. “It’ll be like old times. Remember how you used to share my room when you came to visit Daddy?”

Michelle nodded. “You were always so sweet and willing to share. I admit I was scared the first few times I came to visit after my dad married your mother. I mean, there you were, a little girl the same age as me living with your mother, sister, brother and
my
father and I was sure I’d been displaced.”

Courtney shook her head. “Nothing would’ve made your dad happier than to have had you and the other kids living with us full-time. I remember how sad he would be after the four of you left to go back to your mother’s.”

“It’s always hard to say goodbye,” Michelle said softly. “And it never gets any easier. Nobody knows that better than we Careys.”

“Wilson Nollier makes my skin crawl,” Courtney said with a reminiscent shudder as she and Connor, in the front seat of his steel-gray Pontiac, drove along the interstate highway leading out of Washington, D.C., and heading west to the small West Virginia town of Shadyside Falls. “He was practically oozing that fake sympathy from every pore.” “You’re one incredible actress, Gypsy. You played the part of the desperate wannabe-mommy to perfection.” Connor cast her a sidelong glance. The cheap imitation gold wedding band, which he had given to her prior to entering Nollier’s office, was on her finger. She was still wearing the fawn-colored skirt and jacket she’d worn for the appointment. A deep-pink blouse added a splash of color to the outfit and he’d already noticed that as her emotions rose, her cheeks turned the shade of the blouse. She looked soft and sexy, and he didn’t dare allow his gaze to drift to her sensually mobile mouth or her great dark eyes.

Connor shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to think of the business at hand. Wilson Nollier... Their appointment with the attorney earlier this afternoon in which they’d debuted in their roles as man and wife...Courtney had been astonishingly good. In fact, she’d been so convincing that he himself had come close to buying her story of childlessness.

“Have you studied drama or something?” he asked curiously.

Courtney shook her head no. “I’ve spent enough time with Mark and Marianne to know how much it hurts to want a baby and not have one.” She shivered. “I hope that doesn’t happen to me.”

“You want kids?”

“Of course. Very much. Don’t you?”

“I guess so.” Connor shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

He knew he was twisting the facts because he’d actually thought about it quite a bit. He liked children; he thoroughly enjoyed his sisters’ kids. But when he tried to imagine having children of his own, he could never come close to conjuring up their mother, who would have to be—since he wasn’t a completely untraditional guy—his wife.

And then there was the question of who his children would actually be? He was a McKay in name only; not by birth or even legal adoption. Did that make him a McKay by cash payment? And no matter what, he certainly couldn’t lay claim to the exalted name of Tremaine, nor could any of his offspring. Would it be fair to inflict such a tainted, tangled legacy on an innocent child?

“Of course, it would be difficult to be much of a family man with the kind of job you have.” Courtney cast a covert glance at him. He was even more attractive today in a blue-knit shirt that emphasized the rippling muscles of his shoulders and khaki slacks that hugged his flat belly and long muscular legs. She dragged her eyes away. “You probably don’t keep regular hours. You’re away a lot tracking down people who don’t want to be tracked,” she reminded herself aloud.

“Another one of your not-too-subtle swipes at my job, I presume?”

“I just think you should put your talents and your intelligence to good use
ins
tead of wasting them like you do.” Connor raised his brows. “What if I were to tell you that I worked my way through college and law school? That I passed the bar exam and am a licensed attorney in Virginia, Maryland and the District of Columbia?”

“What if I were to tell you that I’m the long-lost daughter of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe?” she retorted.

“I’d call Kaufman and tell him to inform his old pals at the
Globe Star Probe
to hold the presses.” Connor laughed. “I get your point, Courtney. It is unbelievable that I could be anything other than a contemptible rebel without a cause.”

Contemptible rebel without a cause.
That’s exactly what Connor McKay was; she couldn’t have phrased it better herself. Then why did she feel this urge to deny it, to Connor and to herself?

Courtney shifted in her seat. It was time to turn this conversation away from the personal and back to business. “Do you think this rooming house where Wilson Nollier suggested we stay is under surveillance by his informers?”

“I think we can count on it. We can’t let down our guard for a minute, Courtney. This Mrs. Mason, who runs the place, has got to believe we’re a married couple who are desperate to adopt.”

He swung the car onto the exit ramp, leaving the wide smooth interstate for an older two-lane road. “According to the map, Shadyside Falls should be about an hour down this road.”

“I’m starting to get nervous,” Courtney confessed. “What if Nollier finds out what we’re trying to do? Do you think he—” she paused and drew an anxious breath “—do you think he could be dangerous?”

“All cornered rats are dangerous, Gypsy. We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t ever learn that we’re cornering him.” He turned up the radio. “Listen to some music. That’ll calm your nerves.”

It might have, if they couldn’ve found a station that played music. Unfortunately they were well into the countryside, and the only station they could pick up was airing a call-in talk show. The radio host was insulting and abusive, inciting his audience to respond with similar calls and threats.

Grimacing, Courtney switched it off. “We’ll have to talk instead.”

“You and I carry on a civil conversation? That can’t last very long. Although we could consider it practice for the grueling ordeal ahead of us. And believe me, even
pretending
to be married is a grueling ordeal for me, Gypsy.’ ’

“Especially pretending to be married to me,” Courtney concluded coolly. “Need I state the obvious? The feeling is entirely mutual.”

Connor grinned. “Uh-oh, our civility is already starting to slide. Let’s try another subject. Hmm, I’ve got one—your roommate. Does she work for NPB, too?”

“I don’t have a roommate,” said Courtney. “I live alone.”

“Then who was the sexy-sounding babe who answered the phone last night when I called your place? The one who told me you were going to a party at Twin Oaks Country Club with Emery Harcourt.”

“Finding me really was a kindergarten exercise, wasn’t it?” Courtney smiled in spite of herself. “You talked to my stepsister Michelle last night. She doesn’t live with me, she lives in Harrisburg, but she and her cat are visiting me for a few days.”

“Stepsister? How’s that? Your folks get divorced and remarry?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” she complained mildly.

“Do you have any reasons for not wanting to answer them?”

“Pull your nasty fact-finding mind out of the gutter, Connor McKay. Not everyone has some deep, dark secret thex want to hide.”

“You’d be surprised, Gypsy.”

“Well, I don’t have any. Sorry to disappoint you.” “Then why don’t you want to talk about your family? Are you estranged from them?”