Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (38 page)

“Then let's get going.”

While McGee paid for the excursion and signed the release forms, Chandra packed the truck. Within ten minutes, she was on the road, McGee following her in a beat-up Pontiac. They dropped his car off at Junction Park, and he climbed into the Suburban. Mentally crossing her fingers, Chandra hoped that Brian McGee wouldn't be too much trouble on the trip. She glanced at his profile as she put the truck into gear. For a second, she thought she was looking at Dallas O'Rourke. The profile, though much more boyish, was similar, the clear green eyes intense… but that was crazy. Calling herself every kind of fool, she snapped her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose and vowed she wouldn't think of Dallas O'Rourke for the rest of the day!

She must really be losing it. To think that this…college boy resembled O'Rourke was ludicrous. And why Dr. O'Rourke wouldn't leave her mind alone was too obnoxious to contemplate.

“Somethin' wrong?” McGee asked, and she shook her head, as if to clear out a nest of cobwebs.

“Nope. You just…” She laughed. “You reminded me of someone I know.”

His grin was enchanting. Boyish, but enchanting. “Someone you like?” he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

“I'm not sure,” she said, and decided to end the conversation by turning on the radio. She wasn't interested in a college boy, or any man, for that matter.

McGee seemed to take the hint. He reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and, rolling down the window, lit up. Tapping his foot to the sultry beat of an old Roy Orbison song, he seemed lost in his own world, which was fine with Chandra. She coveted her own thoughts, and they had nothing to do with the boy next to her.

Instead, her mind was crowded with images of a tiny baby and the doctor who cared for him. The baby, she understood. She'd wanted a child for a long, long time. But why Dr. O'Rourke? He was the baby's physician. And a man who was much too complicated for her—not that she wanted a simple man. She didn't want a man at all, thank you very much. And especially not a man like Dallas O'Rourke.

She gripped the wheel more tightly and realized that her palms were sweating as they drove upward, on a gravel road that twisted and turned along the forested banks of the Rattlesnake River.

* * *

L
ATE, AGAIN
. D
ALLAS GLANCED
at his watch and scowled. Brian had suggested they meet here, at the Rocky Horror Pub, at six. It was now 6:40, and Dallas had nursed one beer in the smoky interior. The after-work crowd had gathered. Pool balls clicked in the corner, a lively game of darts had begun, and the tables, as well as the bar itself, were packed with the regulars who always enjoyed a couple beers before heading home.

Five more minutes. That's all he'd give his irresponsible brother, then Brian could go borrow money at a bank, like a normal person.

Dallas finished his beer just as the saloon-type doors swung open and Brian, all one-hundred-eighty-five pounds of cockiness, strode in. Dressed in dusty jeans, a cowboy shirt and Stetson, Brian glanced around, spotted Dallas and waved.

“Sorry I'm late,” he announced, plopping down on a chair at Dallas's table. He waved to the waitress and pointed at Dallas's empty. “Two more of those…wait a minute. Is that a
light?
Forget it. I want the real thing. Whatever you got on tap.”

“And you?” the waitress asked, her eyebrows lifting at Dallas. “Do you want the ‘real thing,' too?”

“Nothing,” Dallas replied, glancing at his brother. “Better watch out, Brian. You could end up with a Coke.”

“Bring this guy the same thing I'm having,” Brian insisted, and the waitress, rolling her eyes, left them.

Settling back in his chair, Brian took off his hat and hung it on a hook near the table. His thick hair was unruly, springy and slightly damp. “I've just had the experience of a lifetime, let me tell you.”

The waitress deposited the two glasses on the table and, surprisingly, Brian paid for them both. Reaching for a handful of peanuts and shaking his head, Brian asked, “Ever shot the rapids at Grizzly Loop?”

“No,” Dallas replied.

“Hell, man, you should. It was incredible.”

“Sounds dangerous.” Dallas waited as Brian tossed peanuts into his mouth. Sooner or later, he would get to the point, which was, of course, how much.

“It was. But the woman who was in charge, man, could she shoot those rapids. Scared the living hell out of me!”

“Woman?”

“Yeah.” Brian hooked his thumb toward the windows. “She works over at Wild West Expeditions. Chandra something-or-other. Just a little thing, but, boy, does she know how to ride a river.”

“Does she?” Dallas asked dryly. He took a swallow of the beer he didn't want. What were the chances of there being more than one woman named Chandra in a town this size?

“Believe me, I was skeptical. This little thing, couldn't be more than five-three or four, drives a huge red rig, carries a backpack that's half her size and shoots rapids like some damned Indian guide!”

“She blond?” Dallas couldn't resist asking.

“And gorgeous.” Brian smiled slyly and winked at his older brother. “Built a little on the slim side for my tastes, but good-lookin'.” Dallas felt his back stiffen. “With women like that,” Brian continued as he lifted his glass to his lips, “maybe I'll just hang around for a while. I could go back to school after Christmas.”

“Like hell!” Dallas replied in a loud whisper. A few heads turned in his direction, and he immediately put a clamp on his runaway emotions. What the hell was wrong with him? Brian was only kidding around, anyone could see that. Yet Dallas's temper had flared white-hot, probably because he was guilty of the same thoughts himself.

“Hey, man, I was only—”

“I know.” Dallas waved off his explanation. “Maybe we should get down to business.”

Brian's smile left his face, and for the first time that Dallas could remember, the younger man seemed genuinely sincere. “Look, I hate to ask you again, but I do need a few bucks to get through the next couple of terms.”

“How much?” Dallas asked, taking a swallow from his “real thing.”

Brian turned his glass uneasily. “I don't know. Four—” he glanced up to see how far he was getting “—maybe five grand could get me through to spring.”

He wasn't asking a lot, Dallas knew. Though part of Brian's tuition and books were paid by his scholarship, his room and board were not. Brian's dad helped him a little, but the monthly checks didn't stretch far enough. And living expenses alone would mount up to more than he was asking for. However, Dallas couldn't get over the
fact that Brian hadn't bothered to earn one red cent all summer. It wasn't loaning Brian the money that bothered Dallas so much as wondering if the kid would ever get enough gumption to actually get a job and become self-reliant.

“I looked for a roommate,” Brian added, and Dallas's head snapped up.

“I thought you had two roommates.”

“They dropped out.”

“So you're living alone?”

“It's only temporary. I'll hook up with someone once school starts. There's always guys looking for a place to stay, and I'm not too far from campus….”

Without roommates to share the expense of a Southern California apartment, Brian would go through five thousand dollars quickly.

Dallas frowned and rubbed the back of his head. “I'll send you the money once you get back to L.A.,” he said, eyeing his half brother and wondering why, with the same mother, they were so unlike each other. Dallas had never shied from work; in fact, he'd been accused of having no emotions, no room for anything in his life but his profession. He'd put himself through school with a little help from a small inheritance from his grandmother. When that had run out, he'd borrowed money from the government. School had been a grind—long hours, no money, no room for anything but classes, studying and sleeping. And it had taken him years to pay off the debt. However, he didn't wish what he'd gone through on anyone, especially his younger brother.

Brian looked straight at Dallas. “I was kinda hoping you'd, uh, give me the check now.” He licked his lips nervously, and Dallas noticed a tightening around the corners of his half brother's mouth.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Nah! Nothing serious,” Brian said quickly, his mouth twisting into a boyish grin again. “It's just that I've got a temporary cash-flow problem and I thought…well, I was hoping…”

Dallas reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his check book. “How much?”

“Just a couple of hundred…”

Wondering if he was doing more damage than good, Dallas wrote a check for three hundred dollars and handed it to his brother.

With obvious relief, Brian stuffed the check into his wallet. “I don't know how to thank you.”

“Finish school.”

“No worry about that. Oh, by the way, I bought you something.”

“You
bought
me something?”

“Yeah, well, I couldn't resist.”

“But I thought you were broke.”

“I am. But I've got a bank card and…I guess I was in a generous mood.”

Dallas was about to protest. No wonder the kid couldn't stretch a buck, but Brian withdrew some sort of coupon from his wallet and slid it across the table. It was a pass for a white-water camping trip from Wild West Expeditions.

“You need to lighten up,” Brian said. “I thought you should do something besides hang around the hospital all the time.”

“This must've cost you—”

“Relax, will ya. Think of it as your money. Have Chandra take you up to Grizzly Loop—I told the old man who runs the place you're to specifically ask for her. You'll never be the same, I guarantee it.” He reached into his shirt pocket, grabbed a pen and, clicking it, scratched Chandra's
name on the coupon. “There ya go! The experience of a lifetime!”

“If you say so,” Dallas said, his lips twisting at the thought of spending a day alone with Ms. Hill. It could be interesting.

And dangerous. He didn't know anything about her, and her story about the baby didn't ring quite true. No, he was still convinced she was hiding something—something she didn't want him to find out about her. What it had to do with the abandoned infant, he didn't understand. But he would. In time, he'd figure it out and, he thought bitterly, he probably wouldn't like what he found.

Except that she was interesting, far more interesting than any woman he'd met in a long, long while. He considered her tanned skin and gray-green eyes. A day or two alone with Chandra Hill could spell more than trouble. His emotions were already on edge whenever he thought of the woman—which was too damned often. But the idea of being close to her, seeing her without all her attention centered on that baby, was far too appealing to turn down. And, even if she were trouble, he decided he was willing to take that chance. He slipped the pass into his wallet.

A
COUPLE OF DAYS LATER,
Dallas had his first weekend off in two months. Seated in his pickup, he stared through the glass at the rustic building where Chandra worked.

Baby Doe was doing well. Just yesterday, Dr. Williams had allowed the infant to be put in the general nursery with the others. Had the child a parent, he would be released soon. However, no one as yet had claimed the baby, despite the front-page story in this morning's
Banner.
Dallas glanced to the passenger seat, where the paper still lay open. “Mystery Baby Abandoned in Barn.” Fortunately there were no photographs of the child. Chandra had only been quoted once, and it seemed that Bob Fillmore, a man Dallas didn't trust an inch, had gotten most of his information from the Sheriff's Department.

However, the first story in the
Banner
was unlikely the last. The press would keep sniffing around, Dallas thought, his gaze returning to the rough-finished building where Chandra worked. Fillmore, like the proverbial dog after the bone, wouldn't stop until he'd dug through every corner of Chandra's life. Things could get ugly.

Retrieving the coupon from his wallet, Dallas reached for the door handle and wondered, not for the first time, what the devil he was doing here. He was afraid his reasons had more to do with Chandra than with relaxing in the mountains. Yes, he was curious about her, but logic told him he was making a big mistake by taking up his brother's offer. Long ago, Dallas had decided he didn't
need any complications in his life. Hadn't he had enough of complex relationships in L.A.? Weren't difficulties in his life in southern California the express reason he had retreated to this sleepy little mountain town? To his way of thinking, women always spelled trouble—with a capital
T.

Chandra Hill would be no different—perhaps she was the most complex of all the women he'd ever met. Certainly she was fascinating. And she was crazy for that little boy. He'd checked with the nurses in pediatrics. It seemed Chandra was more often in the pediatrics wing of Riverbend Hospital than not. In two days, she'd visited the child five times—drawn inexplicably to the baby, as if she were the infant's mother or, at least, were nurturing some maternal bond.

He started up the steps leading to Wild West Expeditions. It wouldn't hurt to find out a little bit about the mysterious Ms. Hill, he decided. After all, he did have some stake in Baby Doe's future, in so far as he was the admitting physician. And the child had no one to fight his battles for him. Unless Dr. Dallas O'Rourke stepped in. His mouth twisted at the irony of it all—he'd never considered himself a hero of any kind. And here he was, deluding himself, making excuses just so he could spend a little time with Chandra Hill. Just like a schoolboy in the throes of lust. He hadn't felt this way in years.