A Baby For Mommy

Micah Drake reached out to tuck stray hairs behind her ear. When his warm hand brushed her skin, she looked at him. He was rugged, handsome. His dark eyes studied her with curiosity, and beneath his gaze she felt her pulse jump. What was there about the man that was so disturbing, when he was doing nothing more than looking at her? For a moment she had thought he was going to lean down and kiss her. And, heaven help her, she had wanted him to. Upset by her reaction to Micah, she struggled to conjure up memories of a husband or home.

She didn’t remember being a mother, yet she knew she loved the little girls. It felt natural and right to be with them. Sophie addressed her as Aunt and Mama. Sophie should know, yet even she didn’t seem certain.

If amnesia usually cleared up swiftly, she would have her answers soon.

“Sophie is old enough to talk and tell you some things. Has she mentioned a man who traveled with you?”

Raffaela shook her head, worry returning about Sophie. She glanced at the sleeping child who looked serene. “The day of the crash she was hysterical. I don’t know whether it was from the crash or the plane burning or the loss of her aunt. Or her mother. You heard her today when she started crying and holding out her arms to me.”

“Yes, she called you Mama when she did.”

“She might have been calling for her mama and reaching for me,” she replied solemnly. “How long will it take to get back to civilization?”

He shook his head. “Too many variables to predict. We’ll follow the stream tomorrow and look for a village. The rivers and streams are highways in this jungle. They flow to the ocean, so we just keep following them. When we arrive in a town, I can get us out of here. This country has revolutionaries who are fighting. I want to avoid them. They won’t care who we are or why we’re here.”

Suddenly aware of the wild country around them, she rubbed her arms.

“You didn’t head in the best direction when you left the crash scene, but we’ll be safe when we reach any sizable town,” Micah remarked, knowing he was frightening her. But she needed to know what the dangers were.

Her teeth caught her lower lip. “I couldn’t decide whether to stay with the plane in case someone searched for us, or try to get to a village. It seemed wiser to try to get to a village.”

He nodded. “I would have done the same,” he admitted, although if she had stayed at the crash site, he would have been able to get her out more quickly.

“My sister died in that crash, and I didn’t even know she was my twin,” Raffaela remarked with regret.

“It’ll come back to you.”

She studied him with curiosity in her eyes. “You do this for a living?”

“That’s right.”

“It must be terribly hard on your wife.”

“I’m not married now,” he said stiffly, wondering how long he would still feel pain, answering questions about Shawna.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Forget it,” he answered perfunctorily, his mind on the plane crash. “You sure you don’t remember a man who survived the crash?”

“No. I never saw anyone except the two girls. When I regained consciousness, the plane was burning and the girls were clinging to me and crying. Before that time, I’m blank.”

Micah rubbed the back of his neck while he thought about the crash. “There was a man with you, Burr Brogan, the Granillo bodyguard.”

“Why did they need a bodyguard?”

“Your husband, as well as your father, is enormously wealthy. Particularly your husband. You should have on more carats than a jewelry shop window display. I’m wondering where all the jewels are.”

“I had my sister for a nanny and I have a bodyguard?” She sounded as if she was having difficulty accepting the facts.

Barely hearing her question, Micah wondered about Brogan. The man was an ex-cop. He was supposed to be one of the good guys, on the side of law and order. And he should know better than to take the rocks and expect to get away with it. Yet Raffaela had a bad blow on the back of the head. In the confusion of the crash, how easy it would have been to knock her unconscious and take the jewelry. Perhaps the sister was already dead, killed in the crash. Yet Brogan probably would have been better off trying to get them rescued and hope for a reward.

Why he had left the necklace behind was speculation, too. He could have been rushed or not cared about the ruby. Or he could have overlooked it because of her long hair.

Micah thought about Sophie again. Three-year-olds could be very bright, and Sophie didn’t have amnesia. “Sophie is old enough to tell you what happened. When you regained consciousness, did she say anything about the crash or Brogan?”

Raffaela frowned as she laced her fingers together. “As I said before, that first day the girls were hysterical. I quieted Angelica. Something frightened Sophie, but she wouldn’t tell me what. I found the woman’s body and both girls seemed torn, so I got them away and covered the body as best I could. I didn’t want to stay in that place. The girls were terrified and hurt—if the woman was my sister and their nanny, they loved her very much. But I may be the nanny. I remember Sophie screaming Mama over and over. After we began to walk and get away from there, they calmed. I didn’t ask her questions about what happened.” Raffaela glanced over her shoulder at the two httle girls. ”I don’t want to question her now. And I don’t want you to ask her. The bodyguard is gone. There’s nothing you can do about him. There’s nothing to gain by bringing back terrors to Sophie.”

“I won’t question her about it,” Micah promised, knowing it was best. He wouldn’t scare the child or dredge up bad memories, but Sophie might hold answers if they could get them from her. “There’s room for you with the girls,” he said, scooting to a tree to lean back against it and stretch out his legs.

She moved beside the children, and when he glanced at her again, his pulse jumped. She had unfastened the thick braid of hair and was combing her fingers through it. A cascade of auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders. She shook her head, brushing her hair back. It was a dark cloud around her head and he could imagine its silkiness. For an instant his gaze raked over her, and then he looked away.

Mrs. Raffaela Granillo. He was taking her home to her husband. And if there was a chance she was the unmarried twin—he reminded himself to wait until they were in Texas to even consider the possibility.

Night came swiftly, and his eyes adjusted. He stared into the darkness, listening to the screech of birds and night sounds, reassured by the noise around him that they were alone. He was far more concerned about rebels than wild animals or snakes.

He leaned back against the palm and closed his eyes, knowing he would only take catnaps until they reached safety. Pockets of rebel insurgents infested all this part of the land, and he wanted to avoid close encounters with any of them. If a band of the wrong kind of men found them, the lady was pretty enough to cause all kinds of trouble. She moved restlessly, and he studied her a moment. What was disturbing her sleep? The crash, the amnesia, the wilds?

Raffaela shifted. She lay on her stomach because her legs and back stung and hurt from the cuts and bruises. Staring into the night, she wished she could remember, trying to envision the husband in her background. With a hollow feeling she thought about her twin sister who had died in the crash. Mourning the loss of her sister would come when memory returned. Right now she felt numb and blank and had no memory of a sister. What she had was a vivid and intense recollection of Micah Drake’s fingers moving over her to give first aid. He had caused her pain, but she knew it had been unavoidable. The rest of the time, his hands were gentle. And she remembered that he was no longer married. He had answered her gruffly, so he must have bad memories.

He thought she was Raffaela, the married one. She didn’t feel married. But she guessed he was right. She knew without a doubt that she loved the little girls.

As she fell asleep, memories taunted her of Micah’s dark eyes.

In early morning Micah opened his eyes and glanced across their campsite. His heart missed a beat.

Raffaela was nowhere to be seen. He came to his feet swiftly, swinging the M-16 over his shoulder, dropping his hand to check the pistol on his hip. He looked around, wondering if she was answering a call of nature or if she had gone to the stream to wash. The only other choices were not good. He glanced at the girls who were both asleep. He hated to leave them alone, but the stream was only yards away.