house with a screened-in front porch, big trees outside and a neglected flower bed. And his apartment here in Atlanta was a nondescript, one-bedroom, furnished box in a complex of over one hundred units skirted by concrete and parking spaces.
Trey tried to picture himself coming home here, closing a door behind him, and calling out, “Hi, honey, I’m home.” And then Cinda, smiling, would come greet him—
Someone touched his elbow. Trey jumped and whipped around. His escort was there, right at his back. But she was smiling—about like he expected a praying mantis would before it devoured its prey. The woman leaned in toward him and looked him right in the eye as she whispered, “If you hurt her, I’ll hunt you down and rip your beating heart right out of your chest, do you hear me?”
The skin on the back of Trey’s neck crawled. He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. Loud and clear.”
She stepped back. “Good. Then we understand each other.” With that, she did an about-face and began walking away. Trey put a protective hand over his heart. “Follow me,” the woman said over her shoulder. “Mrs. Cavanaugh awaits you in the family room.”
The queen has granted you an audience, peasant, was how she said it.
Feeling way off his game here but committed to the course, Trey fell in step, thinking this gray-haired character would even scare Peg the Nurse up in New York City. Down a wood-floored hallway they traveled, sweeping past the wide stairs that obviously led up to a second floor. Trey finally found himself in a room that alone had to be bigger than his mother’s entire home.
So this was what it was like to be a millionaire. The room demanded his attention. It was all windows and open spaces and white carpet and big pieces of furniture. Big paintings and sculptures, too. And flowers. Fresh ones. Everywhere. Beautiful. Colors impinged on his senses. He called them red, white and blue, but no doubt some interior decorator had fancy names for them that Trey would never be able to wrap his tongue around.
Just then, he became aware that the crying baby was close by and that the crying was subsiding into hiccups and sniffling. Trey looked around but didn’t see anyone else. Then…Cinda stood up from where she’d obviously been sitting on the other side of a big cushy beige-colored sofa.
Catching sight of her, locking gazes with her, Trey’s breath caught. He forgot his surroundings and his escort. His mouth was suddenly dry, his palms sweaty. For him, no one existed except Cinda. She filled the room with her smiling warmth and her beauty. She lit up the—
Pow! Trey was smacked hard in the middle of his back, hard enough to rock him off his feet. He tripped forward, gasping, and heard Cinda do the same. She put a hand to her mouth and looked as surprised as he was.
From Trey’s left, the austere, serious-minded woman who’d brought him this far said, “Breathe, soldier. You forgot to breathe.”
Ever dutiful, Trey breathed. In and out. In and out. And stared at his…what? Assailant? Arch-enemy? Someone to whom he’d forgotten he owed a huge amount of money? “Thanks,” he managed to croak out. “I’ll try to remember that from now on.”
“Good. It makes life a whole lot easier.” She got in his face. “And I want you to enjoy what you have left of it, son.” Leaving him with that cheery thought, the woman zipped around on her heel and marched out of the room.
Swallowing hard, Trey watched her go. He made certain that the woman was gone before he turned to Cinda and remarked, “She loves me. We’re engaged.”
Cinda laughed. “Well, I’ll certainly look forward to that wedding.”
Grinning, Trey noticed how much Cinda had changed in the last six months. Not surprising that she would, since she’d been nine months pregnant when first he saw her. Though beautiful even then, she was more so now. Motherhood agreed with her. Slender and tanned, she stood there in a dress that showed off her figure. Her face was thinner, too, highlighting her cheekbones and sensual mouth. And those wonderful amber eyes. They were enough to stop a man’s heart from beating.
Trey realized he was staring. He also knew that Cinda was watching him do so. He inhaled, trying to rouse himself to action. The polite thing to do was go over to her, sit and visit and make a fuss over the baby. But he’d be damned if he could get his legs to cooperate. That was when it hit him. Wait a minute. Baby? She has a baby in her arms. How had he not noticed before now? He pointed to the child. “Have you always been holding her?”
Cinda raised her eyebrows. “It seems like it some days, but I’ve only had her for six months, remember? You were there.” She pointed to her child. “This is Chelsi Elise.”
“She certainly is,” Trey said, thinking himself ridiculous. “And she’s beautiful. But I must be losing it. I didn’t even notice you were holding her when you stood up. All I saw were stars.”
Cinda’s expression melted into one of apologetic sympathy. “Oh, I know. You poor man. I should tell you that was Major Clovis—the woman who brought you in here and smacked you on the back. She’s my nurse, assistant, secretary…bulldog.”
Trey had meant Cinda. All he’d seen were stars when he saw her. But it had been a pretty hokey thing to say once, much less twice. “Ah. Major Clovis.”
“She came with the house.”
“Chained up in the basement, no doubt.”
Cinda laughed, and it was magic. “Exactly right. How’d you know?”
“A lucky guess. I like her. I think she’s nice.” God, how he wanted Cinda.
“You’re being kind.” Cinda patted the happily gurgling blond baby girl in her arms. “The truth is, if you’re not me or Chelsi, she won’t like you. Ever. Now, tell me, what hideous thing did she say to you on the way in here? And don’t tell me she didn’t because she always does.”
She did? Did that mean there had been a procession of men through those front doors? Trey instantly hated that idea—and now truly liked Major Clovis for doing her best to run them off. One thing Trey knew was she wouldn’t run him off. But in answer to Cinda’s question, Trey shrugged. “Nothing much. Ripping my heart out. Things like that. At least she’s up-front about how she feels. I can respect that.”
“Oh, you poor thing. But speaking of respect, come over here and pay yours to my daughter, a little girl you almost had to bring into this world, Mr. Trey Cooper.” Cinda’s eyes shone with maternal pride.
Trey loved the way she said his name. Mr. Trey Cooper. Like she was trying it out for size. Mrs. Trey Cooper. But wait a minute, he chided himself, shouldn’t he hate that whole idea? Shouldn’t he be running away, instead of steadily walking toward her? As he approached where she still stood, he reminded himself of his own rule: no wife and kids while on the race circuit. Sure, he knew that intellectually, but another part of his psyche, the part that reported directly to his heart, said…maybe, maybe not. Oh, this wasn’t good. This woman had danger written all over her. She was the yellow flag that warned the drivers to slow down when there was trouble ahead on the course.
And yet, here he was standing in front of her as close as propriety and the baby’s presence between them would allow. He looked into Cinda’s golden eyes, caught the scent of her perfume, and smiled. Awareness flashed and caught him off-guard. His heart beat faster, harder. Cinda’s lips parted slightly, as if she thought he was about to kiss her. As if she was about to allow him to kiss her. And oh, he wanted to, all right. Trey leaned in toward her. She leaned in toward him. He reached out, putting his hand lightly on her back as he lowered his head to capture her mouth.
He heard her little gasp…of passion for him? No, of pain because the baby had yanked a handful of her mother’s hair. And Cinda was pulling away from him and looking embarrassed and disconcerted. Feeling much the same, Trey cleared his throat and retreated a step or two. Still, despite the “kissus interruptus,” the good news here was Cinda was obviously as affected by him as he was by her.
“So,” Trey remarked, striving to get nonchalant