The Homecoming Baby

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. He might not be interested. But if he is…then maybe a little fantastic sex.”

“Celia—”

But Celia laughed, a golden trill shot through with sensuality and excitement. She reached out and grabbed Trish’s hand.

“Come on, Trish,” she said. “I’m twenty-eight years old, not eighteen. I’m— Well, I don’t know how to explain it. He’s very exciting. If you could see him, you’d know. Would it really be so wicked for me to have a brief, lovely, extremely safe romance with an extremely exciting man, especially since there could be absolutely no long-term complications whatsoever?”

Trish shook her head. “No. Not if there were any such thing. But as any of your patients could tell you, there isn’t.”

PATRICK’S SUITE in Morning Light, the bed and breakfast his secretary had found for him, was surprisingly elegant.

The sitting room was spare but comfortable. A small, graceful fireplace filled one corner, and the sofa, which was covered in Navajo textiles, faced a picture window that overlooked the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

The bedroom was large and cool, with an equally stunning view. Pueblo pottery dotted the tables, and fine Mexican art filled the white-washed adobe walls with color.

He found himself whistling as he unpacked. He hadn’t expected to find this strange adobe hotel even marginally acceptable. From the outside, it seemed to come out of the ground like a piece of lumpy, rounded earth, not a normal building at all. From the outside it looked dark and cramped.

But inside the proportions were generous, and the cool light was strangely soothing, the simplicity relaxing. You could focus your mind in a place like this. He thought he might get someone to redecorate his office when he got back to the city. Suddenly the dark oak paneling he had now seemed oppressive and heavy.

It seemed like something Julian Torrance would have picked.

The change in his mood surprised him on several levels. Just a few hours ago he’d been fairly grim, focused on the unpleasantness of his mission.

He hadn’t come to Enchantment for R&R, as he’d told Celia Brice this morning. He’d come to Enchantment for one reason only—to find enough information about Angelina Linden to track her down.

It wouldn’t be easy. But someone knew where she’d run—and probably that someone was her sister, Trish Linden, the receptionist at the birthing center.

Somehow he would find out the truth, and when he did—well, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do then. No point tackling that decision now. Later, when he knew more, he’d make up his mind exactly how to proceed.

But he had some documents he just might like to show this Angelina Linden. It just might give him a great deal of satisfaction to tell her exactly what he thought of her.

Not, at the heart, a pleasant task. But for the first time since he’d made the decision to come to Enchantment, he realized that there wasn’t any reason he couldn’t enjoy himself, at least a little.

Especially since things seemed to be going so well. Who would have thought that breaking down near a ghost town would get things off to such a promising start? He might have wasted days trying to meet someone connected with the birthing center, someone who might be able to introduce him to Trish Linden.

And yet, all because of a broken radiator hose, he’d met Celia Brice, who, it turned out, was the psychologist for the birthing center, and Trish’s good friend.

It was as if the gods had conspired to assist him. Celia was open and welcoming, and she had already offered to show him around her beloved town.

A real find. A woman who had lived here all her life and knew everyone might just make this whole hunting expedition very easy indeed.

That she should be gorgeous, too, seemed like a good omen.

With a satisfied smile, he picked up the telephone. He’d start with dinner. She’d made it clear she’d love to hear from him again, and dinner conversations could cover a lot of useful ground.

And after that…

He hesitated. After that, he had to be careful. She really was unusually attractive. She radiated both sensuality and innocence, which was a fairly irresistible combination. And he was only human.

It was a damn fine line—acquiring the information without exploiting the woman. But he’d just have to walk it. He had no intention of leaving Enchantment, New Mexico, with any ugly blotches on his conscience

He called down to ask for the number of the local birthing center. He stared at the mountains as he dialed it. A breeze blew in the open window, and in it hung the scent of wildflowers.

Vanilla and lavender and something like chamomile tea. He shut his eyes, and he saw pink and purple and white, soft petals spilling into a tumbling crystal brook.

And the sweet smell of sunshine. Yellow hair tumbling across ivory skin.

He tightened his hand around the phone. He opened his eyes, and then he lowered the receiver into its cradle.

Not yet. He needed to put together a careful plan. And there was no rush. Somehow he knew that whenever he was ready, Celia would be waiting.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE STAFF MEETING at The Birth Place was almost always held at the noon hour on Fridays. Lydia ordered in pizza loaded with vegetables, and Trish brought fresh fruit and cheese. They ate while they talked over clinic issues. It was friendly but focused. Clearing even an hour of everyone’s schedule at once was difficult. Any more would be impossible.

Celia, who wasn’t technically on the birthing center’s staff, attended only every now and then. Often she was busy seeing patients at her own small downtown office. But this time she’d been lucky—the meeting had been moved to a Monday, and she’d been able to schedule patients around the staff meeting.

It was great to see everyone and to feel a part of the team. She watched the Birkenstock-and-earth-mother midwives chatting comfortably with the button-down administrative staff and smiled to herself. The atmosphere here was really very special.

If she ever had a baby, she wouldn’t think of delivering it anywhere else.

If she ever had a baby. But given how her life was going, how likely was that? She popped a piece of pineapple into her mouth and wiped her hands on her paper napkin briskly, aware that the meeting was coming to an end.

She wandered over to Trish’s reception counter, which, as always, was neat and organized. Papers wouldn’t dare get out of line on Trish’s watch.

Trish looked up with a smile. “Penny for your thoughts. Surely the debate over the new copier didn’t put that pensive look on your face.”

“No.” Celia picked up the snow globe of Venice that sat beside Trish’s keyboard, the one frivolous note amid all the streamlined practicality. She shook it, sighing. “I guess I was just wondering when I’ll ever get to see The Birth Place from…from the other side.”

“Not anytime soon, I hope.” Trish raised her eyebrows, took the snow globe from Celia’s dreamy fingers and set it back on the desk. The snowflakes sank around the delicate Venetian gondola and died. “Unless…is there something you’re not telling me about that episode in the ghost town?”

Celia laughed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, no. I meant someday. I do want a family, you know. A big one. I was just thinking that sooner or later I’ll find Mr. Right, and—”

“Not if you keep going on like this, you won’t.”

Annoyed that Trish had seemed to read her mind, Celia scowled. “Don’t start that. Didn’t I tell you I’m through picking men who need fixing up?”

“Right. And now you’re picking traveling salesmen.”

“Patrick Torrance is not a—”

“Whatever.” Trish lowered her voice, obviously not wanting the others to overhear. “I don’t care what it says on his business card. He may not be a scratch-and-dent, but he’s a hit-and-run. Here today and gone tomorrow.”

She gave Celia a straight look. “And you can’t tell me that’s a coincidence. If ever a woman was hell-bent on staying single, you’re it.”

“I—”

But she never got to finish her sentence. The front door to the clinic opened, and two patients entered, waddling over to sign in with the slow contentment of the heavily, happily pregnant. At the same time Kim Sherman, the clinic accountant, stuck her head out from the administrative office suite. “Trish,” Kim said, “can I steal you a minute? This statement is a mess.”