The Great Baby Caper (6 page)

He leveled a mock-scolding look on
her. “I don’t have girlfriends in every port, nor any skeletons in my closet.
But I am apt to dash off on long business trips at a moment’s notice, a reality
that most wives doubtless will not tolerate well.”

“Unless you had someone who was as
busy as you are,” she muttered, thinking aloud.

“Precisely.”

“Like a female clone of yourself?”

He shuddered. “How unromantically
you put that, my dear.”

“I’m just being logical, like you.
We do seem to think alike in some ways.”

“We do.” He cleared his throat.
“So tell me, does marriage fit into your life plan?”

She slowly shook her head. “Not
really. I’ve pretty much decided the domestic scene isn’t for me.”

She was thrilled to see a look of
disappointment wash over his handsome features. “It isn’t? May I ask why?”

“Oh, mostly observing my three
older sisters. They all have young children, and almost all of the housekeeping
and child care responsibilities fall on them. Don’t get me wrong—I adore my
nieces and nephews. But I don’t want my life to be a series of trips to the
grocery and dry cleaner’s, not to mention the soccer field and the
pediatrician. Two of my three sisters are doing all that plus holding down
part-time jobs.”

He whistled. “Haven’t your
siblings ever heard of nannies or housemaids?”

“Mark, I don’t hail from a wealthy
family. Although I’m doing well, my sisters and their husbands have had to
struggle financially.”

“Ah. Sorry if I sounded glib
there.”

“Apology accepted. What my sisters
are doing is fine for them. But my point is, if you can’t devote yourself to
your partner and your children, then you have no business getting married in
the first place.”

“An interesting perspective.”

“You disagree?”

“I tend to think one can have it
all.”

She stared him straight in the
eye. “That’s because you’re a man, Mark.”

He laughed. “Oh, Courtney. You are
delightful.”

As yet another blush scorched her
face, Courtney lowered her gaze. The truth was, he was delightful, too. And
while she hated to admit it, Mark Billingham was already getting under her skin
. . .

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After dinner, Courtney walked with
Mark along the levee, watching passengers disembark from the steamboat
Natchez
, just docked after its nightly dinner cruise. The air was balmy and sweet,
still scented of rain.

“Oh, the Mississippi is glorious
tonight!” Courtney exclaimed.

He followed her gaze across the
wide gleaming waterway, to the beautifully lit bridge to Algiers in the
distance. “It is indeed lovely. You know the Thames can sometimes have that
kind of glow on a really clear spring night.” He reached out and took her hand.
“Have you ever seen London, Courtney?”

It seemed so natural, his taking
her hand that way, and she hadn’t the heart to pull away, especially not with
the new surge of excitement sweeping through her at his warm touch. She
struggled to keep her voice casual. “Yes, my high school class went to Paris and London for our senior trip.”

“That must have been some trip.”

She laughed. “Three years of car
washes and bake sales, plus our parents still had to chip in a bunch. But it
was worth it. London is a beautiful city, with so much history. You must adore
living there.”

“Having grown up there, I tend to take
a lot for granted. The States I find interesting, though. Very brash and
contemporary.”

“Especially compared with stodgy
old England?”

“Indeed. New Orleans provides a
nice contrast—it’s free flowing, unrushed, unbridled . . . rather sensual,
don’t you think?”

The word “sensual” slammed
Courtney straight in the gut. She struggled to remain outwardly cool. “You’re
right, it’s different here. More erot—I mean,
exotic
.”

He smiled at her little slip of
tongue, pausing by a daiquiri stand along the levee, where several couples were
lined up to get drinks. “Thirsty?”

Even though she was still feeling
a slight buzz from the liquor consumed at dinner, Courtney decided what the
heck. This was New Orleans, after all. “Sure, I could use another.”

After Mark bought their drinks,
they sipped them as they descended the levee, crossed the street, and entered Jackson Square, a stand of ancient, moonlit oaks guarding the historic cathedral, the
Cabildo and the Presbytere in the distance. Along the old stone buildings flanking
each side of the square were gathered clumps of people listening to street
musicians, drinking at patio tables, or waiting for tarot card readings. A few
feet away from Mark and Courtney, a black trumpeter was belting out a jazz
version of “Rock of Ages.”

“That music is divine,” she
murmured.

As they passed the man, Mark
stepped away to drop several dollars into his musician’s case. Moving back to
her side, he slipped an arm around her and nodded toward the square. “Look
there, love.”

She glanced toward the oaks just
as the wind did its silvery dance through the lofty tree leaves. Then, directly
ahead of them along the iron fence line, she spotted a young couple locked in
an embrace, oblivious to the world as they passionately kissed.

Was that where Mark had been
directing her attention? Glancing back at him and catching the tender though
conspiratorial look in his eyes, she had her answer. Things were becoming far
too romantic.

Still appearing to savor a wicked
secret, Mark remarked, “Wonderful light over there on the Cathedral, isn’t it,
love?”

She laughed, reached out, and
mussed his hair.

He scowled. “What’s that for?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Oh,
you seem a little too perfect, when you can be a real rascal at times.”

He chuckled. “Once when I was at Cambridge, I substituted a naughty Victorian video for one of my professors’ lectures on
the pitfalls of investing in third-world economies.”

“You didn’t!”

“That turned out to be quite a
lively session. The professor blamed one of my pals, his teaching assistant,
who had actually unwittingly given me access to the lecture hall. Luckily the
old boy had a sense of humor, and didn’t turn me in to the dean.”

Courtney was laughing over this
when a carriage rattled past in the street behind them, and the driver called
out, “You folks want a ride?”

Simultaneously, they both turned
to see the driver sitting in the canvas-topped open carriage, the large gray
horse patiently waiting. “Sounds like a splendid idea,” Mark agreed.

He took Courtney’s hand to help
her onboard, and as she placed her foot on the step, he caught her about the
waist and gave her a boost. Heat surged through her where his strong, warm
hands had touched her. Then he joined her, his hard body pressed next to hers,
his exciting male scent firing her blood. When he slipped his arm around her,
she couldn’t resist and nestled even closer to his heat.

The contraption rattled off, and
Courtney sighed dreamily as they turned onto a quiet street with beautiful old
townhouses draped with iron lace balconies. It felt so wonderful to be with
Mark, to leave her troubles behind.

“How are you doing, love?” he
asked quietly.

The word “love” rolled tenderly
off his tongue and excited her deeply. “Oh, I’m fine, perhaps a bit tipsy.”

He leaned over and whispered at
her ear. “Are you trying to tempt me by telling me that?”

“Tempt you?” she asked in mock
outrage. “In front of a horse?”

He chuckled, then grew more
serious. “Courtney, this has been such fun.”

“Yes, it has,” she murmured.

He drew a deep, steadying breath.
“I know we agreed not to talk about it, but . . . Will you let me speak with
Grandfather tomorrow, see if I can’t set matters straight? I’m sure I can talk
him into reinstating you in your post, minus all this malarkey.”

Though touched by his offer, she
shook her head. “Mark, that’s kind of you, but I think you were right in the
first place. We really shouldn’t talk about this now. Besides, I think the best
thing for me to do is just to move forward. But tonight . . .” She glanced
ahead at the stately façade of Antoine’s Restaurant, watching a laughing young
couple enter. “I feel as if I’ve stepped into a different world, and I’d just
like to enjoy it a little while longer. Do you understand that?”

“Of course. Too much nose to the
grindstone can be quite dispiriting. I think tonight I feel much the same way.”
He took her chin in his hand and spoke soulfully. “As if I have discovered
quite a different world.”

“Mark—”

His voice grew rough. “My Lord,
you’re so very lovely.”

Her next protest was token at
best, and she actually welcomed the warmth of his lips descending on hers.
Sweetly and soulfully he kissed her, and with the clip-clop of the horse’s
hooves, the scent of night and mist, the brush of the wind against her face,
the moment literally oozed romance. She sighed ecstatically and moved her lips
against his, and heard a groan rise in him. Although he ended the kiss too
soon, she was left reeling.

She breathlessly eyed him. “Mark,
do you think we should . . . I mean—”

He leaned and whispered at her
ear. “Courtney, I think you’ve given us both the best advice of all. Let’s just
enjoy this night.”

His sexy words washed her with
shivers, and she almost moaned aloud. How could she argue with that? As if he
sensed her agreement, he snuggled her closer.

The conveyance turned down quiet Royal Street with its shops and hotels. Rain began to fall, pelting the canvas cover on the
carriage. The sound was treacherously sensual and romantic.

“Oh, that rain smells divine,”
Courtney breathed. “What’s New Orleans without a shower?”

The driver pulled up to the awning
of an art shop. “I’d best let you folks off here, where there’s cover.”

Mark handed the man some cash.
“Thanks.” He slid to the ground then helped Courtney down. Her body brushed the
hardness of his as she alighted. All at once she felt dizzy, so glad his strong
arms supported her.

She glanced up to see his eyes
glowing with passion. “Mark.”

The word was half a protest, half
a plea. With a groan he caught her close and lowered his face to kiss her, this
time greedily. His lips tasted of rain, and thunder boomed in the background, a
sensuous accompaniment as his tongue slid deeper, possessing her mouth.
Courtney felt she might explode right then and there, so intense was the desire
she felt. With the torrid New Orleans night surrounding them, all her senses
were on fire.

A moment later he pulled back and
smiled at her, a smile of pure joy. “Come on, love,” he said.

Courtney needed no further prompting.
She linked her hand with his. Like happy children, they ran down the
rain-splashed street together . . .

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The night was magical. Courtney
left all logic behind her. Her entire being became centered on the fascinating,
sexy man walking beside her.

They strolled all over the
Quarter, buying frozen daiquiris from street vendors, ducking under awnings to
kiss during the off-and-on thunderstorms. They returned to Jackson Square to
listen to the jazz musicians and walk beneath the massive, dripping oaks. They
had their fortunes told off Pirate’s Alley, and both laughed when the tarot
lady told them their destinies were linked. They ate hot, sugar-coated beignets
as they wandered through the colorful street market.

They talked—about friends,
relatives, hobbies, the differences in their countries and upbringings. They
shared jokes and memories from their college days.

Midnight found them heading back
toward their respective hotels. Strolling along with Mark’s arm around her
waist, Courtney knew she had a healthy buzz on from all the daiquiris. But she
didn’t care. She couldn’t remember when she’d had more fun. For years she had
been far too serious, chained to her work. Tonight she had been set free, and
although the future could prove daunting, for now she allowed herself to glory
in her emancipation. And Mark. Just hours ago, he’d been a stranger whom she’d
despised. Now she felt as if he were a good friend.

As they turned a corner, she spotted
the regal pillared façade and soft light of a stately hotel. “What a beautiful
old hotel.”

“It’s where I’m staying,” he
replied.

“Oh, how lovely. Our convention
hotel is nice, too, but it’s all modern. This one has some real Creole charm.”

Near the front doors, he paused.
“Care to come in and have a look?”

Courtney felt taken aback. “Well,
the hotel does look interesting . . .”

“Wait till you see the view from
my room,” he said enthusiastically. “There’s an inner courtyard, and it’s just
spectacular.”

Courtney gave a dry laugh. “I—I’m
not sure visiting your room right now would be very smart.”

He stroked her chin with his
fingertips. “Then we’ll have the bar serve us a nightcap out in the courtyard.
How ’bout that?”

“Now that sounds too lovely to
resist.”

He escorted her inside the
gorgeous, marble-floored lobby, with its gleaming gold chandeliers. As they
started toward the bar, a bellman stepped toward them. “Sir, the bar is closed
for the night.”

“Ah, what a shame. I’d hoped to
show the lady the courtyard.”

“I’m afraid the patio is closed
for the night as well, sir—except of course to our guests with a view from
their rooms.”

Mark pulled out his wallet and
handed the man a ten. “Tell you what—why don’t you ask room service to send two
cognacs up to Suite 415?”

The man grinned. “I’d be delighted
to, sir.”

Before Courtney could even
protest, Mark firmly led her away. “The lift’s over here, love.”

Courtney shot him a scolding look.
“Mark, this isn’t what I had in mind. I just wanted to see the courtyard—”

“But you can’t, love, unless you
come upstairs with me.” The elevator doors opened, and he steered her inside
the car. “I assure you it will be worth the trip.” He winked. “Besides, we’re
two mature adults. We can handle this, don’t you think?”

She fought a smirk. “That’s just
what I’m afraid of.”

His low, half-wicked chuckle only
confirmed her fears.

They alighted on the fourth floor
and proceeded down posh corridor. Mark unlocked door 415, pushed it open and
motioned for her to precede him inside.

Courtney stepped into the suite
and glanced around. “Nice.”

“You like it?” he asked, shutting
the door.

Courtney continued to study the
softly lit room, with its cathedral ceiling, walls papered in gold silk, plush
carpets, expensive traditional furnishings and tasteful art picturing New Orleans street scenes. The suite’s best feature was a free-standing spiral staircase
which curved upward to a loft; a large bed was just visible beyond the railing.

“You must like to travel in
style,” she remarked.

“I enjoy tasteful surroundings,”
he replied, setting down his key and stepping toward her. “You must, too. That
is, I assume my grandfather pays you a livable wage.”

“He did,” she muttered. “Although
I’ll likely have to watch my pennies for the time being.” She gestured at their
surroundings. “Still, I think I would always find this kind of setting
extravagant. My middle-class upbringing, I suppose. Why get a suite when a
simple room will do?”

He stepped closer and murmured
huskily, “Perhaps to charm the socks off a beautiful lady?”

“Watch your step, Mark,” she
chided.

He succumbed to a self-deprecating
smile. “At any rate, I find your practicality endearing.” Playfully he touched
her chin with his index finger. “Especially as it allows me room to spoil you.”

She was staring back at him rather
breathlessly when a discreet rap came at the door. Mark answered it, murmured a
few words to the room service attendant, then returned with a small tray.
Setting it down on an end table, he approached her holding two small glasses. “Cognac?”

She took hers. “Thanks.”

With his free hand, he took her
arm. “Now I’ll show you the suite’s best feature.”

He led her to the French doors,
and opened them.

“Oh, Mark.” Courtney stepped out
onto the balcony, eyes filled with wonder as she stared at the courtyard below.
The lush tropical expanse dripped with palms, ferns, philodendrons, and dozens
of varieties of flowers. A three-tiered brass fountain provided a lovely focal
point. Soft recessed lighting enhanced the exotic, seductive air.

Courtney inhaled a lungful scented
of nectar, mist, and greenery. “You’re right, the courtyard is wonderful.”

“Worth making the trip up here?”

All at once she felt a bit choked
up, and was confused by her own feelings. “Oh, yes.”

He eyed her curiously. “Is that a
tear I see?”

She nodded, feeling a bit
embarrassed as she wiped it away. “Yes. You know, this evening has been so
special.”

“I agree completely.”

She gazed out at the courtyard
with awed eyes. “I’ve been so busy, so devoted to my career, that I hadn’t
realized there was a big, beautiful world out there that I had totally
ignored.”

“I know. My life has been much the
same.”

She turned to gaze at him. “Until
tonight. I do feel as if I’ve stepped into a different world, a beautiful world
of fun and romance, where anything is possible.”

He stepped closer, leaned over and
gently nuzzled her cheek with his lips, until she gasped. “And what would you
like to see made possible, Courtney? What would make your world perfect
tonight?”

His question was a loaded one, and
they both knew it. Catching her breath with an effort, she backed away slightly
and lifted her glass. “Perhaps a toast?”

He smiled. “Good save, love. To
us, then.”

They clicked their glasses
together and solemnly sipped. The cognac was sweet and strong, burning
Courtney’s throat, an erotic reminder of the heat still building elsewhere in
her body.

“Sit with me a moment, Courtney?”
he asked.

“Sure.”

They sat side-by-side on the patio
chairs, quietly sipping, drinking in the beauty of the courtyard, listening to
the tinkling of the fountain.

After a moment, he took her hand
and squeezed it. “You know, I hate to see this end.”

“Me, too.”

For a long moment he sat quietly,
his thumb slowly, sensuously stroking the sensitive inside of her palm, until
she thought she would scream if he did not kiss her again. Then softly,
poignantly, he asked, “Stay with me tonight, Courtney?”

The question, though expected, set
Courtney reeling. Truth to tell, there was nothing she wanted more than to make
love with Mark. Over the last hours he’d evolved from being her enemy to
becoming a kindred spirit. But she realized succumbing to him now could prove
disastrous in every way. She still didn’t know him that well, and he was the
grandson of the man who’d betrayed her. Though instinct argued that he likely
wasn’t part of that betrayal, how could she be sure?

She spoke unsteadily. “Mark, I
don’t think that would be wise. Tomorrow I’ll be heading who knows where, and
surely soon you’ll be going back to England—”

“All the more reason for us not to
miss this magical opportunity.”

Growing more and more afraid she
might succumb, she stood, wobbling slightly, setting her empty glass down on
the patio table. As she straightened a new wave of dizziness staggered her.
Lord, she hadn’t realized she was quite this tipsy. “Mark, I really should go.”

He stood, too, grasping her arm to
steady her. “I’ll escort you back to your hotel.”

“Don’t be silly. I can get a cab.”

“Nonsense. Better yet, stay here.
You’re not too steady on your feet, love. You can have the bed upstairs and
I’ll take the couch.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Why, Courtney?” He pulled her
into his arms and spoke huskily. “Because you’re afraid you won’t be able to resist
temptation?”

She gasped. “Mark, please don’t.”

He brushed her lips with a teasing
kiss, his breath hot and sweet. “Then answer me, Courtney. Are you afraid
you’ll succumb to what we’re both feeling?”

“Oh, yes,” she panted. “And I must
go.”

He gave a long sigh. “Very well,
darling, but I insist on taking you back.”

“Well . . . okay.”

They started off with his arm
around her waist; however, just inside the door, she stumbled badly.

Mark tightened his grip on her.
“Are you okay?”

Dazedly Courtney shook her head.
“Just a little bit woozy.”

“That does it.” He swept her up
into his arms and headed purposefully for the stairs.

She was shocked and amused by his
caveman tactics. “Mark, you can’t carry me up a spiral staircase! You’ll trip
and break both our necks.”

At the foot of the staircase, he
gently set her on her feet. “Very well, but I’m helping you upstairs. And
you’re staying here tonight.”

“Mark, please—”

“Courtney, do you really think you
won’t be safe with me?”

Tempted to blurt out,
Will you
be safe with me
?, Courtney instead managed to say, “Yes, I know I will be.
But—”

“No buts. Up the stairs to bed,
dear lady.”

To bed
. Now that was a
decadent prospect, especially coming from him. Courtney didn’t resist further
as he nudged her up the staircase, keeping a steadying hand at her waist. In
the loft, she stared at the king-size bed with its plush quilted bedspread. The
expanse was cozy, with only the bed, nightstands, and a dresser filling the
space.

Mark crossed over to open a
drawer, returning momentarily with a large beige T-shirt emblazoned with
“Billingham’s, the Strand, London.” Handing it to Courtney he said awkwardly,
“I hope this will suffice for you to sleep in. There’s a fresh toothbrush and a
bathrobe in the bathroom.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. Starting
away, she staggered slightly.

He grabbed her arm. “Need some
help?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not
in the bathroom, thank you.”

He retreated, and, tossing him a
crooked smile, she was off. Inside the large marble bathroom, she brushed her
teeth and prepared for bed. Moments later as she emerged, Mark popped up from
the bed. He’d removed his jacket and unbuttoned several buttons on his shirt,
and looked very sexy.

Though his eyes burned with secret
desires, his manner was in all respects polite. “Feeling better?”

She nodded. “The water on my face
helped. Though I hesitate to think of how I’ll feel in the morning.”

He chuckled. “If you’re done, I
was hoping to grab—er, a quick, cold shower, before I venture downstairs.”

There Courtney had to laugh.
“Cold, Mark?”

He shook a finger at her. “Stop
it, woman, before I lose what remains of my gentlemanly restraint.”

Though Courtney’s expression was
devilish, she didn’t reply.

With a groan, he pulled her close
and gave her a quick, hard kiss. Then he made a dash for the bathroom. But at
the door he turned to give her a last wink. “If you change your mind, you can
still save me from death by cold water,” he teased. Then he was gone.

Courtney drew a shuddering breath.
If you change your mind
. . . The words tortured her, along with the
promise of passion they represented. Mark’s scent still lingered in the air,
enticing her. Touching her mouth, she could still feel the heat of that searing
kiss; licking her lips, she could still taste him.

Making a sound of frustration, she
removed her robe and got into the soft bed. At once she was flipping and
flailing, especially when she heard the shower rush on in the next room. She
imagined him undressing, imagined him . . . And what would he do when he
finished, try to climb in bed with her? Oh, she hoped so. Then she quickly
realized he wouldn’t, that he was too much of a British gentleman not to honor
his word.

That realization made her burn for
him even more. Funny how his masculine reserve sparked her own feminine
instincts. She flipped over and punched down the pillow with her fist. What was
wrong with her that she was considering abandoning all her fine resolve and
attacking him in the shower?

The truth was, she was dying for
him. She hadn’t had sex in a long time, and this man was both charming and
irresistibly sexy. She was like a starving woman, lying just feet away from a
sumptuous feast. And as he’d pointed out only moments earlier, tonight was
likely their one chance to be together—their one chance to love.

That realization pushed her over
the edge. Would it be so bad to just go take a little peak at him?