Somebody's Baby

The simple black gown she wore left her arms and shoulders bare, and revealed a body beneath the silky fabric that was more slender than Grant would ordinarily have found attractive. But rather than making her seem frail, her petite stature was surprisingly sensual. Womanly.

Drifting away from the people she’d come in with, she accepted a glass of champagne from one of the hovering waiters, then slipped unobtrusively into a corner, her gaze raking the crowded room. Grant watched her over the rim of his own glass. Had they met before? He didn’t think so, and yet there was something intriguingly familiar about her. He excused himself and crossed the room toward her.

As he approached, Grant saw something flit across her features. Recognition? If he didn’t know better, he would have almost sworn it was fear.

“I know this is going to sound like the worst kind of come-on,” he said, “but have we met before?”

Her gaze flitted upward to his. She licked her lips nervously. “No. I’m sure we haven’t.”

“You look…not exactly familiar, but—” He paused, studying her features. “There’s something about you.”

“I…guess I just have one of those faces.”

That wasn’t it, but Grant didn’t think it wise to pursue the topic any further. She looked a little skittish, as if she might turn and bolt at any moment. And he sure as hell didn’t want that.

“I’m Grant Chambers.” He extended his hand, and she accepted it only briefly before pulling her fingers from his grasp. When she made no move to introduce herself, he said, “And you are…?”

A look of panic flashed across her features. He couldn’t imagine why she seemed so nervous in his presence. Was he that intimidating? He’d never thought so before.

“I’m—” She broke off, her gaze darting from his. He saw her take a deep breath, and then she said softly, “Actually I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You mean you crashed my sister’s party?” When she nodded, he laughed. That explained her nervousness. She probably thought he’d have her tossed out, but that was the furthest thing from Grant’s mind.

He stared down at her, his interest piqued. A pulse beat in her throat, and he thought impulsively how exciting it would be to press his lips against the spot, to feel her soft, warm skin throbbing beneath his mouth.

Leaning toward her, he said, “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Then…you don’t mind my being here?”

“Hardly.” Their gazes met once again before she quickly glanced away. Grant used the moment to study her as she turned to watch the crowd. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so intrigued by a woman. “So, tell me. Any reason for crashing this particular party?”

She lifted her shoulders, a slight movement that brought Grant’s gaze downward, to the creamy skin of her throat and the alluring shadow of cleavage at her neckline. He felt something tighten inside him.

“I came with my cousin.” She nodded vaguely toward the center of the room.

Grant followed her gaze and said, “You mean Cynthia? I didn’t know she had a cousin.”

The woman bit her lip. “We’re not that close. I don’t see her very often.”

“You don’t live in Houston then?”

“I’m from…San Antonio.”

“Really? I’m pretty familiar with the city. Where do you live?”

She hesitated again, as if debating whether she wanted him to know that much about her. Then she shrugged and named a neighborhood Grant knew very well. He lifted his brows in surprise. “Small world. I have a good friend who lives in Alamo Heights. We were roommates at UT. His name is Trent Fairchild. You don’t, by chance, know him, do you?”

Something flashed across her features, setting off a warning inside Grant. Too late, he saw the champagne glass slip from her fingers and shatter against the marble floor at their feet.

Clasping a hand to her heart, she stared at the broken flute in horror. “Oh, my God.”

Her face had grown so pale, Grant took her arm to steady her. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

“No. No, it wasn’t that. I-it just…slipped from my fingers. I’m sorry,” she stammered, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had happened. “I’m usually not that clumsy.”

“No problem. It’s just a broken glass. Happens all the time.” He motioned to one of the waiters, who hurried over to clean up the mess. Grant used the opportunity to pull her even farther away from the crowd.

She still looked shaken, and he wondered why such a trivial accident had caused her such concern. “Believe me, that glass will never be missed.”

Her gaze swept the elegant room, and a brief shadow crossed over her features. “I’m sure it won’t. But I am sorry.”

“Accidents happen. So long as it wasn’t the company that made you so nervous.”

“Wh-what?”

Her green gaze seemed so guileless, Grant wondered if she could really be so innocent not to recognize his own clumsy attempts at flirtation. Was he that out of practice?

Or maybe she just wasn’t interested. Maybe it was time to move on. There were a lot of important people at the gathering, and Grant knew he should be working the crowd—as his brother-in-law was undoubtedly doing. As his father would expect both of them to do. But try as he might, Grant couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm for it at the moment.

He didn’t mind talking about the Venezuelan project, which had turned out to be a very profitable venture, but a conversation about his return to the States always led to the inevitable speculation about his exile. And Grant didn’t like thinking about the past. He didn’t like remembering how closely he’d come to losing everything, and all because of a woman.

So why wasn’t he being more cautious now? Why was he hell-bent on pursuing this woman when she so obviously didn’t want to be pursued?

“Perhaps I should leave,” she said, as if reading his mind.

Grant frowned. “Because of a broken glass?” When she shrugged helplessly, he said, “Look, if you feel that badly about it, there’s only one thing you can do.”

Her glance turned wary. “What?”

“Dance with me.”

“Oh, I couldn’t, I mean, I’m really not much of a dancer,” she said in a rush.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” He took her hand and felt it tremble in his. For some reason, it made her seem vulnerable and sweet. Qualities he’d always vastly underrated, he decided.

“But—”

“No ‘but’s,” he insisted. “I have a feeling that at midnight you’re going to disappear, and I’ll never see you again. At least let me have one dance to remember you by.”

IN HER WILDEST DREAMS, Nina could not have imagined such a strange scenario. When she’d seen Grant Chambers walking across the room toward her, she’d been sure he’d recognized her from the park and was coming to throw her out. Or maybe even have her arrested.

But then she’d seen the admiration in his gray eyes, and realized in a rush of relief that he had no idea who she was. Her makeover had worked, and she’d tried her best not to say or do anything to give herself away. But then he mentioned Trent Fairchild, and her reaction was instinctive. She thought for a moment she might actually pass out.

How ironic that she had come here searching for the truth about her baby only to end up in the arms of a man who was a friend of her worst enemy. Trent Fairchild had sworn he would find a way to make Nina pay for Garrett’s death, and she couldn’t help wondering again if he was somehow connected to Dustin’s disappearance. Sergeant Farrell had cleared him months ago, but Nina had never been quite as certain.

“You’re trembling.” Grant’s deep voice vibrated against her ear. “Are you cold?”

“A little.” She tried to hold herself away from his body, but Grant Chambers would have none of that. He was a man used to getting his own way, and when he pulled her more tightly into his arms, there was little she could do to resist.