Somebody's Baby

“I keep coming back to the same question,” Farrell said softly. “If Karen Smith and Vanessa Baldwin are one and the same, why would she go back to that park? Why would she risk being seen?”

“Dear God,” Nina whispered. “You’re not going to do anything about this, are you?”

“Nina—”

“You’re afraid of them.” A hysterical sob rose in Nina’s throat, but she swallowed it back down. “The police won’t touch them because of who they are. People like that can do anything they damn well please, and to hell with the rest of us. Is that it? Well, I’m not afraid of them. I’ll get my baby back with or without your help.”

“Nina, listen to me,” Farrell said urgently. “You’ve got to get a grip here, or you could find yourself in a lot of trouble.”

His words echoed inside her. The man in the park had said the same thing to her. “I could be in a lot of trouble? What have I done?”

Farrell’s voice hardened with warning. “Nothing yet, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Nina said. “I can take care of myself.”

“I wish I could believe that,” he muttered. “Look, I’ll do some checking, find out what I can about Vanessa Baldwin and her baby. But, Nina, this has got to be done on the q.t. I don’t want harassment charges coming down on either of our heads, you got that? You stay away from Vanessa Baldwin, and for God’s sake, whatever you do, stay away from that baby.”

Chapter Four

“Oh, Mr. Chambers, it’s you. You startled me.” The nanny stopped in the nursery doorway when she saw Grant standing over John David’s bed. She looked flustered by his presence, and not a little guilty.

She entered the room hesitantly, and Grant straightened from the crib, where he had been trying to quiet the baby. “He was crying when I came in, Mrs. Becker. No one was in here with him.”

“Oh, please call me Alice,” she said with a breathless little laugh. “I just stepped out for a minute. Has the party already started downstairs?” Her gaze checked out Grant’s tuxedo, then quickly shifted to the crib, where John David was excitedly waving his arms and legs and blowing spit bubbles at his uncle with gusto.

“Actually I came a little early to see you,” Grant told her.

Her hand flew to the neckline of her dress, where a dull red flush crept upward, giving her a feverish glow. “Oh! What about?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the incident in the park this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Her tone dropped and so did her hand. “That woman, you mean.”

“Yes, exactly.” Grant hadn’t been able to get “that woman” out of his head. Something about her had seemed eerily familiar to him, and yet he was sure she’d been telling the truth when she said they’d never met. And when she’d assured him she meant John David no harm.

So why couldn’t he forget her?

She was hardly the sort of woman who would capture a man’s imagination. Her waiflike appearance was not the studied look of a fashion model, but rather that of a woman who had fallen on hard times. Her face had been too narrow to be striking, her features too nondescript to be memorable, and yet there had been something very unsettling about her, a sadness and desperation in her eyes that haunted Grant much like those of the begging children he’d seen in Third World countries. He wanted to put her out of his mind, and yet he couldn’t. Because like those starving children, the woman in the park had possessed something very rare. A quiet dignity and purity of soul that no amount of money could ever buy.

Grant found himself wondering what had made those eyes seem far too old and experienced for her face.

The nanny shuddered delicately. “I don’t mind telling you, she just about scared me to death. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

Grant shrugged. “I don’t think she meant the baby any harm. At any rate, I doubt we’ll ever see her again, so the whole episode is best forgotten. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Did you mention any of this to my sister?”

The woman hesitated, calculating, Grant suspected, the answer he wanted to hear. There was something about Alice Becker that didn’t elicit his trust. He wondered just how thoroughly Vanessa and Clayton had checked out her references.

“I haven’t mentioned it to Mrs. Baldwin yet,” she finally admitted. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“Good,” Grant said. “Because I don’t want you to tell her at all.”

The woman’s narrow brows rose in surprise. “Why not?”

“You know about my sister’s condition.” It was a statement, not a question. His father had always insisted that anyone who came to work in the Chambers household be informed of Vanessa’s heart problem so that if an emergency ever arose, the staff would know instantly how to handle it. Grant doubted that policy had changed since his sister had moved into her own home. J. D. Chambers wouldn’t allow it. His daughter had to be protected, at all costs.

“There’s no use upsetting my sister needlessly,” he explained.

“But somehow I don’t feel right keeping this from her.” She slanted Grant a look, which wasn’t hard to interpret. If Vanessa were to ever find out about the woman in the park, Alice Becker didn’t want to be held accountable.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take full responsibility.” Bending over the crib once more, Grant let his nephew capture one finger in his tiny fist for a long moment, then straightened. “Good night, Mrs. Becker.”

The woman started to say something, perhaps to ask him again to call her Alice, but then she seemed to change her mind. She nodded and murmured, “Good night, Mr. Chambers,” as her gaze took his measure one last time before he turned and strode from the room.

* * *

Nina sat in the back of the taxi and stared out the window, but the passing scenery was nothing more than a blur. How could she focus on her surroundings when her thoughts were so chaotic?

Was she doing the right thing?

What if she got caught?

Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window, she marveled at the changes in her appearance. She’d spent hours that afternoon at an exclusive uptown salon, being made over for tonight. The bill, along with the price of a new gown, had been staggering, but Nina knew the extravagance had been worthwhile.

Gone was the long, mousy blond hair, the pale complexion, the dull, pain-filled eyes. Her hair, cut short in a chic new style, shimmered with golden highlights, her complexion glowed with soft color and her green eyes sparkled with excitement. Nina hardly even recognized herself, and she told herself no one else would, either.

Resting her head against the back of the seat, she let her mind drift over the rest of the afternoon’s events, searching—she suspected—for affirmation that she was doing the right thing. That she had covered all her bases.

After speaking with Sergeant Farrell for the second time, she’d fished the morning newspaper out of the trash and turned to the society section. Vanessa Baldwin’s likeness had smiled up at her, and Nina’s heart had plunged in disappointment. Either the picture was deceptive or she’d been mistaken in the park. Vanessa Baldwin looked nothing like Karen Smith.

Could Sergeant Farrell be right? Had Nina glimpsed something in Vanessa Baldwin’s eyes only because she so desperately wanted to?

The accompanying article reported that Vanessa Baldwin was hosting a formal reception that night in her River Oaks home in honor of her brother, Grant Chambers, who had just returned from Venezuela. After reading the article, Nina had come up with a dangerous plan. For her own peace of mind, she had to get a closer look at Vanessa Baldwin. She had to be sure.

And if she was honest with herself, she had to admit she wanted to see the baby again, too, although she knew that would be the riskiest part of her plan.

Oh, but to hold that child in her arms again…to savor his sweetness…

Nina drew a long, shaky breath. Above all else, she had to remain rational. If Vanessa Baldwin wasn’t Karen Smith, then her baby wasn’t Dustin, and Nina would have no right to see him, let alone to hold him. She could not afford to lose sight of that fact.

The taxi pulled through the gates of the Baldwin estate and slowly wound its way around the semicircular driveway to stop in front of the Mediterranean-style mansion, blazing with lights. Nina glanced at the stucco facade and the wrought-iron balconies as she stepped out into the cool October air.

Another car had pulled up behind hers, and two couples got out. Nina fell into step behind them, forcing herself to strike up a casual conversation with one of the women as they mounted the stairs and walked through massive oak doors into the grand foyer.

* * *

Grant saw her immediately. He’d been talking with his father and several business associates about the Venezuelan project, but the moment she walked into the room, everyone else faded into the background.

She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense of the word, but there was something about her, an elegance and quiet sophistication that made him think she would be an interesting woman to know.