had begun the moment Karen had approached her in the park that day?
“Excuse me.”
Nina was so caught up in her reverie, that when a woman’s voice spoke in front of her, she jumped. She looked up, almost expecting—hoping—to see Karen Smith, but the woman who gazed down at her was a stranger. Her plump, round face had none of Karen’s fragile beauty, and her hair—rather than dark and exotic—was a light mousy brown.
The woman, pushing a baby carriage, indicated the bench beside Nina. “Would you mind if we sit here? He’s a little fussy. I think he’s ready for his bottle.”
Nina swallowed and nodded. She hadn’t been this close to a baby since the day Dustin was born. Her arms ached when the woman lifted the child from the stroller and settled him on her lap.
Nina tried not to look. She tried to glance away, but the baby’s obvious distress drew her attention in spite of herself.
She couldn’t tell much about his features, other than the fact that he had almost no hair. His face was red and puckered, and for a long moment, no sound came out of his mouth. Then he finally caught his breath, stiffened his body, threw back his head and let loose a wail that could have been heard two city blocks away.
Nina watched in fascination as the woman struggled to quiet him. She reached forward, fishing in an overflowing diaper bag for a bottle as the child screamed and squirmed on her lap.
She gave Nina an apologetic glance. “He’s teething, too.”
“Can I help?” Nina asked hesitantly.
“I can’t find his bottle,” the woman said in exasperation. “I know I packed it.”
“Maybe you left it in the car,” Nina suggested.
The woman cut her a look. “I hope not. His mother dropped us off. We don’t usually come to this park. There’s one much closer to the house, but Mrs. Baldwin had an appointment and this one was more convenient. She won’t be back for a while.” The woman held the child with one arm while rummaging through the diaper bag. “John David, be still. You’re only making things worse.”
After a few more moments, the woman gave up. “Maybe you can help.”
Nina reached for the diaper bag, but the woman raised the baby in her arms instead. “Do you mind?”
Nina hesitated. Don’t do this, a little voice warned. Don’t torture yourself. Don’t remind yourself of what might have been.
But it was no use. She could no more have stopped herself from taking that baby than she could have prevented the sun from coming up in the morning.
A nun in the orphanage where Nina had been raised once told her that she was born to be a mother. That someday all the love she had stored up inside her would be lavished on her own children. And they would adore her in return. Nina had dreamed of that day. Lived for the moment when she would finally hold her baby—her own flesh and blood—in her arms.
Her throat tightened as she held the writhing child against her, drinking in the sweetness of him. The innocence.
He looked to be about six months old, as Dustin would be now, and what little hair he had was dark, as Dustin’s had been. The child stirred something powerful in Nina she didn’t understand. He was a stranger, and yet so many emotions rushed over her. What was happening to her?
“It’s okay, sweetie,” she crooned, cradling him against her as she rocked to and fro. “Everything’s okay.”
“His bottle isn’t in here,” the woman beside her muttered. “I don’t know what could have happened to it. Mrs. Baldwin must have taken it out, though for the life of me—” She turned with a teething ring and handed it to Nina. “Here, let’s try this.”
Nina did as she was told, but the baby promptly shoved the useless plastic away. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?” she murmured.
The woman sighed. “I’m afraid he’ll just have to wait until his mother gets here.”
She reached for the baby, but Nina said quickly, “Oh, may I please hold him for a little longer? I think he’s starting to quiet.”
The woman looked doubtful. “I’ve imposed on you long enough.”
“It’s no imposition. Please. Just a minute more.” There was a desperate note in Nina’s voice she didn’t recognize. Why was it so important she hold on to this child? He was a stranger and she was acting as if—”You’ve been very kind.” The woman’s tone grew insistent. “But I’ll take the baby now.”
“Please—”
“Give me the child!”
The fear in the woman’s eyes startled Nina. What on earth was she doing? She’d frightened the poor woman half to death, and all because she’d wanted to hold the baby in her arms a little longer. Wanted to pretend a little longer.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. Just as she was about to hand the child back, she saw a man striding toward them. He was tall and broad shouldered with thick black hair and—Nina saw when he drew closer—gray eyes that were very dark and very piercing.
The woman beside her looked enormously relieved when she spotted him. She jumped up from the bench and grabbed his arm. “Mr. Chambers! I’m so glad to see you!”
His dark gaze went from the woman to Nina, and then to the baby she still held on her lap. His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?” he demanded, in a voice every bit as dark and deep as his eyes.
As if also affected by the man’s sudden appearance, the baby on Nina’s lap grew still, staring up at the stranger with rapt attention.
“She won’t give the baby back to me!” the woman said in a shrill voice. “She insisted on holding him while I looked for his bottle, and then she wouldn’t give him back to me.”
Nina winced. “No, please, it wasn’t like that. I can explain—”
The man walked over and took the baby from her with such authority, Nina shrank away from him. He swung the child up into his arms, and John David laughed delightedly, momentarily forgetting his hunger pains.
With the flair of a magician, the man produced a bottle from his jacket pocket. “I thought you might be needing this,” he said to the woman beside him. “Vanessa left it in my office.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” she exclaimed, taking both baby and bottle from the man. “You’re a lifesaver, Mr. Chambers.” She settled the baby in the stroller and gave him his bottle. The baby instantly quieted. The woman straightened and glared at Nina. “Should we call the police?”
The man nodded toward the parking lot. “Why don’t you take John David back to my car? Vanessa should be here soon.”
“Yes, sir.” With one last look at Nina, the woman turned and headed across the park.
Nina tore her gaze from the departing stroller and glanced up at the stranger. He towered over her, looking dark and grim and more formidable that she would have ever thought possible.
He was very handsome in a tough and arrogant sort of way. The casualness of his apparel—jeans, boots and a lightweight leather jacket—didn’t fool her. He had the look and demeanor of a man who had power and money and knew how to use both to his advantage.
He reminded her of the Fairchilds, and Nina felt a sudden stab of resentment. Who was he to judge her? He didn’t know her. He didn’t know anything about her.
“I wasn’t going to hurt your baby,” she said. “I would never do that. I…just wanted to hold him.”
He said sharply, “Who are you?”
“I’m no one. I didn’t mean any harm. I’ll go quietly away, and you’ll never see me again.”
He