Nobody's Baby but Mine (15 page)

She stood there with her heart pounding as he disappeared out the front door. Moments later, she heard the sound of the Jeep driving away. Deeply depressed, she dragged herself to the kitchen, where she deposited the videotapes in the trash.

The requisite Snopes’s family crystal chandelier hung over an island workspace topped with black granite that made it look like a crypt, an effect that was enhanced by the shiny black marble floor. The connecting breakfast nook had a charming bay window and a beautiful view. Unfortunately, the view had to fight a built-in banquette upholstered in blood red velvet and wallpaper printed with metallic red roses so full-blown they seemed on the verge of decay. The entire area looked as if it had been decorated by Dracula, but at least the view was pleasant, so she decided to settle in there until she felt more able to cope.

For the next few hours, she alternated between putting away the groceries that had been delivered, making phone calls to tie up loose ends in Chicago, writing a quick note to Caroline, and brooding. As evening approached, the quiet in the house grew thick and oppressive. She realized her last meal had been a very early breakfast, and though she had little appetite, she began putting together a small meal from the badly stocked pantry.

The groceries that had been delivered included multiple boxes of Lucky Charms, cream-filled chocolate cupcakes, white bread, and bologna. It was either hillbilly gourmet or the dream diet of a nine-year-old boy—either way, it didn’t appeal to her. She preferred her food fresh and as close to its natural state as possible. Deciding on a grilled cheese sandwich made from Styrofoam white bread and rubbery slices of artificial cheese, she settled on the red velvet banquette to eat.

By the time she’d finished, the events of the day had caught up with her, and she wanted nothing more than to stumble into bed and sleep, but her suitcases weren’t in the foyer. She realized Cal must have put them away while she’d been exploring the house. For a moment, she remembered that awful master bedroom and wondered if he thought she was going to share it with him. She immediately dismissed the idea. He’d been avoiding even the slightest physical contact with her; she certainly didn’t have to worry about him being sexually aggressive.

The knowledge should have comforted her, but it didn’t. There was something so overwhelmingly male about him that she couldn’t help feeling threatened. She simply hoped her superior intelligence would win over his physical strength.

The colored lights of the fountain in the foyer below threw grotesque fun-house shadows on the walls as she made her way upstairs to find a bedroom for herself. With a shudder, she headed toward the door at the end of the hallway, choosing it only because it was farthest from the master bedroom.

The charming little nursery she found surprised her. Simply decorated with blue-and-white-striped wallpaper, it held a comfortable rocker, white enameled bureau, and matching crib. Above it hung a needlework prayer mounted in a simple frame, and she realized this was the only religious object she’d seen inside the house. Someone had designed this little boy’s nursery with love, and she didn’t believe it had been G. Dwayne Snopes.

She sank down in the wooden rocker that sat by a window with tieback curtains and thought about her own child. How could it ever grow strong and happy with two parents constantly at war? She remembered the promise she’d made Annie Glide to put Cal’s welfare before her own and wondered how she had let the old lady trap her into agreeing to something so impossible. It seemed even more ironic in view of the fact that he had promised nothing in return.

Why hadn’t she been wilier and ducked the old lady’s prodding as he’d done? Still, in light of the wedding vows she’d spoken, what difference did one more broken promise make?

As she rested her head against the back of the rocker she searched for a way to make peace with him. Somehow she had to accomplish it, not because of what she’d said to Annie, but because it was best for the baby.

A little after midnight, Cal sealed himself in the study to call Brian Delgado at home. While he waited for his attorney to answer the phone, he viewed the room’s Gothic furnishings with distaste, including the trophy heads mounted on the walls. He liked his blood sport to involve able-bodied men, not animals, and he made up his mind to get rid of them as soon as possible.

When Brian answered, Cal was in no mood to chitchat, so he got right to the point. “What have you found out?”

“Nothing yet. Dr. Darlington doesn’t seem to have any skeletons in her closet—you were right about that—maybe because her personal life has been almost nonexistent.”

“What does she do with her spare time?”

“She works. That seems to be her life.”

“Any blots on her professional record?”

“Problems with her boss at Preeze Labs, but that looks more like professional jealousy on his part. High-level particle physics still seems to be pretty much a boys’ club, especially with the older scientists.”

Cal frowned. “I hoped you’d have more by now.”

“Cal, I know you want this handled yesterday, but it’s going to take a while unless you want to attract all kinds of attention.”

He shoved his hand through his hair. “You’re right. Take the time you need, but handle it. I’m giving you complete authority to act. I don’t want this pushed aside.”

“Understood.”

They talked for a few minutes about the terms Cal was being offered to renew his contract with a fast-food chain, and then they discussed a proposed endorsement for an athletic clothing manufacturer. Cal was just ready to hang up when a thought occurred to him.

“Send one of your people out tomorrow to buy up a batch of comic books. Soldier of fortune stuff, action heroes—have them throw in a couple of Bugs Bunny. I’ll need four or five dozen.”

“Comic books?”

“Yeah.”

Brian asked no more questions, even though Cal knew he wanted to. Their conversation ended, and he headed upstairs in search of the woman who had so deviously altered his life.

He didn’t feel even a pang of guilt for wanting revenge. The gridiron had taught him a lot of survival lessons, and one of them was fundamental. If somebody laid a dirty hit on you, you had to strike back twice as hard or pay for it in the future, and that was something he wouldn’t risk. He had no intention of living the rest of his life looking over his shoulder trying to figure out what she might be up to next. She needed to understand exactly who she’d tangled with and exactly what the consequences would be if she ever tried to deceive him again.

He found her in the nursery curled up in a rocker with her glasses resting in her lap. In her sleep she appeared vulnerable, but he knew what a lie that was. From the beginning, she’d been cold-blooded and calculating as she’d gone about getting what she wanted, and in the process she’d altered the course of his life in a way he’d never forgive. And not only his life, he reminded himself, but the life of an innocent child.

He’d always liked kids. For over ten years he’d spent a lot of his time working with underprivileged ones, although he’d done his best to keep that information from the press because he didn’t want anybody trying to make him over into Saint Cal. When he finally got around to getting married, he’d always figured he’d stay that way. He’d grown up in a stable family, and it bothered him to watch his buddies and their ex-wives shuffle their kids back and forth. He’d sworn he’d never do that to a child, but Dr. Jane Darlington had taken the choice away from him.

He walked farther into the room and watched the blade of moonlight caught in her hair turn it into silver. One stray lock curled softly over her cheek. She’d taken off her jacket, and her silk top clung to her breasts so that he could watch their gentle rise and fall.

Asleep, she looked younger than the formidable physics professor who’d instructed her class on Borromean nuclei. That day there had been something parched about her, as if she’d been closed up inside so long that all her juices had dried up, but asleep and bathed in moonlight she was different—dewy, renewed, plumped up—and he felt the stirrings of desire.

His physical reaction bothered him. The first two times he’d been with her he hadn’t known what she was like. Now he knew, but his body didn’t seem to have gotten the message.

He decided it was time for the next scene in their unpleasant melodrama, and he pressed the toe of his shoe down on the front of the rocker. The chair tilted, and she startled awake.

“Bedtime, Rosebud.”

Her green eyes flew open and immediately darkened with wariness. “I—I must have fallen asleep.”

“Big day.”

“I was looking for a bedroom.” She slipped on her glasses, then pushed her hands through her hair, where it had fallen forward over her face. He watched silvery blond drizzles trickle through her fingers.

“You can take the Widow Snopes’s room. Come on.”

He could see that she didn’t want to follow him, but she wanted another argument even less. It was a mistake for her to telegraph her emotions the way she did. It made the game too easy.

He led her down the hallway, and as they came closer to the master bedroom, her nervousness grew. He felt a grim satisfaction watching it happen. What would she do if he touched her? So far, he’d avoided any physical contact, not quite trusting himself to stay in control. He’d never hit a woman—could never even have imagined doing such a thing—but the urge to damage her was primal. As he observed her nervousness, he knew he had to test her.

They reached the door just before his own. He extended his hand toward the knob and deliberately brushed her arm.

Jane jumped as she felt his touch and spun to face him. His eyes were full of mockery, and she realized he knew exactly how nervous he was making her. There was something dangerous about him tonight. She had no idea what he was thinking; she only knew that they were alone in this big, ugly house, and she felt defenseless.

He pushed open the door. “We’ve got connecting bedrooms, just like those old-time houses used to have. I guess G. Dwayne and his wife didn’t get along real well.”

“I don’t want a connecting bedroom. I’ll sleep in one of the rooms at the other end of the hall.”

“You’ll sleep wherever I tell you.”

Prickles of alarm skidded up her spine, but she lifted her head and met his gaze. “Stop bullying me.”

“This isn’t bullying. Bullies can’t back up their threats. I can.”

His lazy drawl held an edge of menace, and her stomach twisted. “Exactly what are you threatening?”

His gaze slid over her, lingering at the hollow of her neck, her breasts, passing down to her hips, then returning to her eyes. “You cost me my peace of mind, not to mention a wad of cash. To my way of thinking, that means you’ve got some big debts to pay off. Maybe I just want you close by while I decide when I’m going to start collecting.”

The sexual threat was unmistakable, and she should have been enraged—certainly frightened—but instead, a curious jolt passed through her, as if her nerve endings had received an electrical shock. She found her reaction deeply disturbing, and she tried to move away from him, only to back into the doorjamb.

He lifted his arm and splayed one hand on the edge of the frame, just next to her head. His leg brushed the side of hers, and all of her senses grew alert. She saw the hollows beneath his cheekbones, the rim of black that surrounded the irises of his pale gray eyes. She caught the faint scent of laundry detergent on his knit shirt and something else, something that shouldn’t have a smell, but did. The scent of danger.

His voice was a husky whisper. “The first time I strip you naked, Rosebud, it’s going to be in broad daylight because I don’t want to miss a thing.”

Her palms grew damp, and an awful wildness rose inside her. She felt a suicidal desire to peel her silk shell over her head, unfasten her slacks, to strip herself naked for him right here in the hallway of this sinner’s house. She wanted to answer his warrior’s challenge with one of her own, a challenge as ancient and powerful as the first woman’s.

He moved. It was almost nothing. A slight shift of his weight, but it brought the chaos of her thoughts back in order. She was a middle-aged physics professor whose only lover wore socks to bed. What kind of opponent was she for this seasoned sexual warrior who seemed to have chosen sex as a weapon to subjugate her?

She was deeply shaken and just as determined not to let him use her weakness to his advantage. She lifted her gaze to his. “You do what you have to, Cal. I’ll do the same.”

Did she imagine a flicker of surprise on his face? She couldn’t be certain as she turned into the room and shut the door.

The sun streaming through the windows awakened her the next morning. She propped herself up on the pillows and admired the Widow Snopes’s bedroom, which was painted a pale blue with chalk white trim and soft iris accents. Its simple cherry furniture and braided rugs gave the room the same homey feel as the nursery.

Jane glanced uneasily toward the door that led to a master bath linking her bedroom with Cal’s. She vaguely remembered hearing a shower running earlier, and she could only hope he’d already left the house. Last night she had placed her own toiletries in a smaller bathroom down the hall.

The Jeep was gone by the time she had finished dressing, gotten unpacked, and made her way to the kitchen. She found a note from Cal on the counter with the number of a grocery store that delivered and instructions to order whatever she wanted. She ate a piece of toast, then phoned in a list of items more suitable to her taste buds than foamfilled chocolate cupcakes.

Not long after the groceries arrived, another deliveryman showed up with her computer equipment. She had him carry it to her bedroom, where she spent the next few hours setting up a workspace for herself on a table she moved in front of the window, so she could gaze at the mountains whenever she remembered to look up from her computer screen. For the rest of the day, she worked, stopping only long enough to take a walk outside.

The grounds around the house nearly made up for the interior. Shadowed by the surrounding mountains, they were a bit overgrown, and it was too early for anything to be in bloom, but she loved their feeling of isolation and slightly abandoned look. She saw a rough path leading up the side of the nearest mountain and began to follow it, but after less than ten minutes, she found herself gasping for breath from the effects of the altitude. As she turned back, she decided she’d make herself go a bit farther each day until she reached the notch at the top.