The Baby Track (4 page)

She immediately applied the mental brakes. “There are a few things I want to know before I commit myself to anything,” she said, dampening her enthusiasm. It was essential to keep control of the situation, of herself!

“First of all, how will this story be presented by
Insight
and
Inside Copy?
If I use NPB time in and away from the office plus expense money for a documentary, I don’t want
Inside Copy
or
Insight
coming up with some superficial, trashy angle on the whole story.”

“I could always say that
Inside Copy
and
Insight
are never trashy or superficial,” Connor began, his eyes gleaming.

Courtney folded her arms and regarded him archly. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Or I could introduce you to the guy who’ll write the story for
Insight
and you could talk to him about how it should be handled. He’s their only correspondent based here in D.C. and he’s one of the best writers in the news business.”

“Which explains why he’s working at
Insight,
that bastion of journalism, instead of at a lightweight organization  like
The New York Times
or
The Washington Post.
” “Touche.” Connor smiled. “Your point, Courtney.”

His smoky smile did queer things to her insides. Electricity flowed through her, sparking her nerves as his eyes traveled over her. The sensation was both unnerving and intriguing. Part of her wanted to look away sternly, the other part wanted to gaze deeply into those cool green eyes until—

Until what? demanded the other part of her, the non-whimsical, unromantic, reality-oriented side. Indulging in soulful stares with a smooth operator was a prescription for disaster. Her past experience with smooth operators was nonexistent, but one did not have to break a leg to know that it would hurt. The same metaphor also applied to hearts.

“We should meet with him as soon as possible,” Connor said. “This afternoon.”

“I can’t just pick up and leave. I have things to do—” “Put that fascinating special on the social habits of aardvarks on hold, Gypsy. We’re about to begin the most important story that National Public Broadcasting has ever produced. And maybe the only relevant one,” he added, a definite challenge in his tone.

She should ignore it and deal with him in the unemotional, businesslike manner with which she dealt with any other potential collaborator/colleague—she knew that. He was deliberately trying to get a rise out of her; Courtney knew that, too, but found it impossible not to respond in kind.

“I’m sick and tired of your malicious comments about NPB,” she said fiercely. “If you don’t stop making them, I’ll refuse to even consider working with you.”

“Too late, Gypsy. You’ve already considered—and agreed to do it.” He grinned unrepentantly and handed her the uneaten portion of cheesesteak. “Now sit down and finish your lunch before we go. You’re getting awfully cranky and no wonder—you haven’t eaten since last night, remember? You have to keep up your strength.”

“Spare me your phony concern,” snapped Courtney. “Anyway, I’ve lost my appetite. You killed it,” she couldn’t resist adding. Her dark velvet eyes clashed with his.

A combination of instinct and experience told him that lunch was not the issue here. He read the message in her eyes. Though she might not even be aware of it, the challenge she was issuing was a feminine one. And his response was pure and primal male.

He cupped his big hands around her shoulders and carefully, but firmly, pushed her down into the chair. “There are a few ground rules that we should get straight since we’re | going to be working together,” he said in a low, husky voice j that rolled over her like a warm wave.

Courtney wriggled in her chair and tried to stand up, to assert her will, and most urgently, to put a safe and comfortable distance between them. His hands, still fastened on her shoulders, held her inexorably in the chair.

“Rule number one is that when I tell you to do something, you must do it.” His voice was soft yet the edge of steel in it was unmistakable. “I’m putting myself in charge of our investigation because I’m familiar with the netherworld where dangerous rats like Wilson Nollier operate. You’ve been sheltered in your privileged ivory tower here, dealing with earnest and sincere do-gooders. You’re no match for the opportunistic sleezeballs of the world.”

“I’m no wide-eyed innocent who can be duped.
Or
threatened, especially by you!” she added succinctly. She tried to rise again, this time with considerably more force.

It was no use; her best efforts were hopeless against his masculine strength.

“Relax, Gypsy. I’m not threatening you.” He began to knead her taut muscles with his fingers. She felt soft and delicate under his hands. His head lowered, and he accidentally brushed his chin against her sleek, dark hair. Or was it an accident? Her hair was soft and shiny and smelled wonderful. He inhaled deeply and almost closed his eyes. His head was starting to spin.

At first, Courtney sat quiescent under his hands while trying to assimilate the knowledge that she wasn’t going anywhere unless he permitted it. It was an unsubtle display of the ease with which he could dominate her and a sour lesson for an independent woman accustomed to managing on her own.

But it was hard to preserve her angry reserve when his big, warm hands were on her. What had started as a tension-reducing massage had become slow, sensual, arousing caresses. She tried to sit straight and stiff in the chair, but maintaining an erect, tense posture was almost impossible with his fingers working their magic, when she could feel the heat emanating from his body and his warm breath fan her hair.

Courtney drew in a sharp, shaky breath and her heart seemed to jump in her chest. Had she imagined it or had his lips brushed the top of her head? She began to ache with the tension of holding back. She wanted to give in, to let her head fall back against the muscular wall of his chest. To close her eyes and relax...

Connor was waging a similar war with his own self-control. He’d already lost two major battles: the first, when he had looked into those great dark eyes of hers and succumbed to his sudden, overwhelming need to touch her, and the second by continuing to caress her, by keeping her locked under his hands.

He felt the slow, subtle beginning of her submission; her muscles were losing their tension, she was softening, leaning into his hands, her breathing quickening.

A sharp hot flame of desire flared through him. He could feel the heat, the pressure building within him, the pleasure knotting deep in his groin...

“Courtney!” The sharp, stern voice of Mimi Ditmar sounded outside the office, accompanied by an equally bone-jarring knock on the door.

Connor dropped his hands at the same moment that Courtney sprang from the chair. They moved swiftly to opposite ends of the office, as Mimi knocked again.

“Come in, Mimi,” Courtney called in a voice that was embarrassingly, revealingly shaky. Her cheeks pinked, and she took great care not to glance in Connor’s direction.

Mimi entered, carrying a stack of videotapes. “In view of Mr. McKay’s interests in the American cinema, I thought he might like to see these tapes of our past shows dealing with the subject.” She thrust them into Connor’s hands. “Here you are, Mr. McKay. Take them with you and enjoy.” Connor looked completely baffled. Courtney smiled weakly. “Thank you, Mimi.”

Mimi acknowledged her thanks with a brief nod, then briskly left the office.

“She thinks you’re a filmmaker,” Courtney explained before Connor could even ask. “A wild nonconformist Hollywood type. But she’s obviously deemed you worthy of contributing to the network.”

Connor arched his brows. “Any particular reason why she thinks that?”

Courtney responded with a silent shrug. She didn’t care to inform him of her frantic rush to Mimi’s desk which had led to the secretary’s misapprehension. He would draw all the wrong conclusions.

She cast a quick, covert glance at him and found him watching her. Tension, thick and hot and almost tangible in its strength, stretched between them. Courtney knew he was remembering, as was she, those moments before Mimi’s interruption. Once again heat flooded her. Thank heavens, he would never know how very close she had been to—to— “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish my lunch,” she said quickly, interrupting her own sensual reverie. She would
not
permit herself to fall into the trap of spinning fantasies about a man like Connor McKay.

“I’ll stay.” He sat down in her chair again and picked up the American cinema transcript she had laid on her desk. “As soon as you’re finished, we’ll go see Kaufman. That’s Kieran Kaufman, with
Insight
magazine,” he added.

“I know that name. He’s that local TV newscaster who keeps getting fired for one sleazy reason or another.
He’s
the one who’s going to write the adoption story?” She was not at all pleased by the news.

“Kaufman’s trying to redeem himself. He’s determined to put his days on the
Globe Star Probe
behind him and start afresh. Again.”

“He worked for that scandal sheet? The
Globe Star Probe
is the slimiest, sleaziest tabloid of them all!”

“Give the guy a break, Gypsy. He’s trying to climb up the ladder of respectability.”

“You mean crawl, don’t you? Or slither? That’s the usual locomotion for reptiles.”

Connor laughed. “You’re a tough lady, Gypsy.”

“And stop calling me Gypsy.”

“I like it. It fits you.”

“Yes, well,
snake
fits you, but I’ve managed to refrain from calling you that.”

He laughed again, neither insulted nor wounded by the slur. When he settled himself more deeply in her chair and began to read the American cinema transcript, Courtney faced facts. Connor McKay was staying for as long as he chose—and when he left, she would go with him to meet her
Insight
collaborator.

How had it happened? she wondered. When had her compliance to his will become a fait accompli? It was too disconcerting to even think about. Courtney ate her lunch instead.

Three

Courtney stood beside Connor in the small cluttered office while
Insight’s
Kieran Kaufman subjected her to one of the most insultingly thorough once-overs she had ever been forced to endure. She stiffened with indignation and tried not to dwell on the strangely different response Connor’s probing gaze had evoked within her earlier that day in her own office.

“Your newest babe?” Kaufman asked Connor.

“I wish.” Connor laughed as he said it, but there was a hungry gleam in his eyes that sent a piercing frisson of heat straight to the core of her. “But Courtney has already set her cap for a high-class guy named Emery Harcourt.” Kaufman’s ears perked up. “Harcourt. Of the Harcourt Foundation?”

“Surely
you
don’t know the Harcourts?” For the life of her, Courtney could not envision the staid, genteel Harcourts having even a nodding acquaintance with a
Globe Star Probe
alumnus.

“I know everybody who’s anybody,” Kaufman boasted. “That is, I know
of
them. It’s my business to know each and every potential source of scandal, whoever they may be.” “Not anymore, Kaufman. You’re working for
Insight
now, not the
Globe Star Probe,
remember?” Connor reminded him dryly. “Courtney works for NPB and has been digging up facts about Wilson Nollier. We decided that instead of sabotaging each other’s investigations, we should join forces and put Nollier permanently out of the baby-selling business.”

“Ah, the Nollier story.” Kieran Kaufman nodded knowingly. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you take a personal interest in the facts you’ve uncovered, McKay. Don’t you think you’re getting a bit carried away? Just give me the stuff you’ve collected and I’ll print it. There’s no need to drag her and the pedantic NPB into it.”

“You can’t print the facts Connor has gathered because nobody has agreed to talk on the record,” interjected Courtney.

“Like that’s ever stopped me before,” Kaufman chortled.

Courtney was scandalized. “I think
Insight
magazine made a big mistake when they hired you away from the
Globe Star Probe,
” she said sternly. “And I’ll be making an even bigger one if I agree to collaborate with you in any way.” She turned to Connor. “This just isn’t going to work. I’m going to continue my research on my own.” She strode quickly to the office door.

“Whoa! Don’t go losing your temper again, Gypsy.” Laughing, Connor caught her around the waist, preventing her intended exit. “You’re not going anywhere. Not yet.” Courtney gasped, outraged by his blatant show of masculine aggression. And unaccountably, embarrassingly, excited by it as well.

“We have to come up with some sort of strategy to put Wilson Nollier out of business permanently,” Connor reminded her.

But it was hard to think of Wilson Nollier or anything else accept how good it felt holding her like this. The low throb he had been feeling since he’d met her intensified in direct proportion to her nearness. She evoked strange but powerfully possessive feelings within him, elemental emotions he had never experienced before.

Courtney was suddenly breathless. The feel of his rugged, masculine frame was imprinted solidly against her back; she felt the muscular strength of his arms around her waist. Dangerous, heated sensations swirled and eddied through her.

Her head reflexively rolled back and came to rest momentarily on the satisfying, hard width of his chest. She felt surrounded by him, enveloped by his strong masculine warmth. She inhaled deeply, and his scent filled her nostrils, a drugging aroma of pure male virility.

A rush of sensual hunger, the likes of which she had never before experienced, jolted through her with such force that she gasped. Taut against her buttocks, she felt the unmistakable force of aroused maleness. An answering blaze kindled within her and she felt hot, so hot she feared that the flame might consume her.