Karen Smith - The Baby Trail

“You only search for someone when you know you’ll be successful?” she challenged him.

His splayed fingers ran through his hair as if he were frustrated with her beyond measure. “No, of course not.”

“Then, Mr. Maxwell, why is this such a hard decision to make?”

Although his penetrating stare might have made a lesser woman crumble, she didn’t crumble, not even under the appraisal of a tough-guy former FBI agent.

Finally he replied, “It’s a hard decision to make because I’m one person and I have a limited amount of time.”

She certainly understood that. “Did you see Amy?”

His expression didn’t change but something in his eyes did. “Yes, I saw her.”

“We can’t let that little girl go through life not knowing who her parents are.”

“We?” he drawled again, his brows arched.

“Mr. Maxwell—” she began.

“It’s Garrett.”

“Garrett,” she repeated, liking the sound of his name on her lips, liking the look of him, not liking the horribly exciting pull she felt toward him. “You wouldn’t have started asking questions if you didn’t want to help me with Amy.”

“I wasn’t getting very far until you came along,” he acknowledged with a bit of chagrin.

“Reuben thought you were a cop. Kids his age don’t rat on each other, not to someone in authority.”

“I have a feeling you can get your way with the male species when you ratchet up the charm,” Garrett commented.

How wrong he was about that! She hadn’t had enough charm to keep Mark. Over and over she’d asked herself what she’d lacked…where she’d gone wrong…what need of his she hadn’t satisfied.

“And if charm doesn’t get you what you want, solid determination will,” he went on, not looking happy about it.

“You’ve made this analysis when we’ve been in each other’s company a total of what? Fifteen minutes?”

“Am I wrong?” he fired back.

That he’d pegged her so well in such a short amount of time was unnerving. “No, you’re not wrong, but all my charm and all my determination won’t find Amy’s mother if I don’t know what questions to ask or where to look.”

Blowing out a breath, Garrett gazed in the direction of the Painted Peaks. The blue-shadowed, rust, gray and red mountains chased each other higher on the outskirts of town. “Did you have lunch yet?” he asked.

That question was unexpected. “No, I haven’t.”

“Let’s go to The Silver Dollar, get something to eat and talk about this.”

The hope that he was really going to help her almost made her feel giddy. “All right. That sounds good to me.”

Afraid he’d change his mind, she was starting for her car when he reached out and snagged her arm. There it was again—that snap and crackle of heat.

“Just because we look for Amy’s mom doesn’t mean we’ll find her. More often than not, leads turn into dead ends,” he warned her with the edge of experience in his statement.

“And sometimes, leads turn into other leads,” she protested quietly.

With a shake of his head, his mouth turned up slightly at the corners. “Are you a Pollyanna?”

Because of the way she’d grown up, she was far from that. “No, but I make a conscious decision each morning to look at the brighter side of life and I think that pays off.”

When he dropped his hand to his side, she felt its absence.

“I’ll meet you at The Silver Dollar,” he said gruffly, then stepped down off the curb and climbed into his SUV. After waiting for her to start up her van, he followed her.

She found herself smiling as she drove. Since when had lunch at The Silver Dollar seemed like a main event?

Since Garrett Maxwell had extended the invitation.

Not knowing what in the hell he was going to do with Gwen Langworthy, Garrett noticed her terrifically long legs covered by her deep violet slacks, the sway of her breasts and hips under her sweater. He spotted an empty table and they headed for it.

The Silver Dollar was three-quarters full. It was a nice-sized restaurant decorated with ranch brands and lariats on the walls, alongside framed signed photographs of Roy Rogers and Gene Autry. But the western atmosphere barely registered as Garrett pulled out Gwen’s chair for her.

Damn, she got to him in a way Cheryl never had. She was pushier than his ex-wife, franker, definitely more determined. In spite of himself, he wanted to know more about her and that was a big mistake. If he took this case, he’d just have to stay away from her.

If he took this case? He was already hooked and he knew it.

Stay away from Gwen Langworthy, he repeated to himself as if he had to translate the words from a foreign language. Standing behind her, looking down at her shiny auburn curls, all he wanted to do was sink his fingers into them. Well, that wasn’t all he wanted to do.

Swiftly moving away from her perfume that smelled fruity and flowery all at the same time, he took the chair across from her and realized that his knees could too easily brush hers at the small table. It didn’t take Yoda shaking a spiny finger at him to warn him not to engage in physical contact. May the Force be with him.

Before she opened her menu, her dark brown eyes met his. “How much do you charge?”

“I don’t charge when I find children.”

“As you pointed out, this isn’t a child.”

He shrugged. “Same difference this time.”

“I can’t let you—”

He dismissively brushed her words away. “You’re not letting me do anything, and as I told you before, we might not find her.”

“If this takes your time away from your other work, I need to reimburse you…for something.”

“Let’s just see where it goes. My workload is moderate right now.” It would be until he heard the decision on the government contract he’d bid on.

She leaned forward a little. “The article I read said you do security consulting work. What exactly is that?”

“It varies.”

When her eyes were still questioning, he knew she was going to come up with another inquiry. He remembered that determination he’d pegged in her. “I develop firewalls that are hacker-proof, along with suggesting physical systems for particular needs.”

“You make Web sites secure? So that if I use my credit card number, nobody can filch it?”

“Something like that.”

“Is that what you did for the FBI?”

Now she was treading into territory where he didn’t want to go. “The skills I used in the FBI were varied.” If his job had only been concerned with Internet security maybe Cheryl wouldn’t have divorced him…maybe she wouldn’t have lost their child.

“Classified?” she asked as if she knew what that was all about.

He laughed. “Let’s just call it that and say the subject’s off-limits.”

But she didn’t stop probing. “For personal or professional reasons?”

It was time he stopped her get-to-know-you session, although at some point he hoped to turn the tables on her. He didn’t see a ring on her finger and wondered if she was involved with anyone.

“This conversation has nothing to do with Baby Amy, and that’s who we came here to talk about.”

“All right,” she acquiesced begrudgingly. “What are we going to do next?”

Gazing into Gwen’s beautiful dark brown eyes, he almost lost his train of thought. Focusing again, he answered her. “My guess is, the couple wasn’t here more than a day. The fact that they bought the supplies they did at a convenience store rather than a grocery store or drugstore tells me they might have been passing through, maybe living out of the kid’s truck. Maybe the girl even had the baby in the truck.”

“But if she wasn’t from here, why would she leave the baby with me? How did she know who I was?”