Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set

  Then the tranquillity was shattered by the intrusion of headlights flashing brightly on the side of the barn.

  Another reporter?

  She squared her shoulders and squinted against the coming darkness before she recognized Dallas’s rig. Relief swelled through her. Maybe he had good news. Or bad. Her pulse thundered, and she waited until he climbed from the cab of his truck before balancing on the lower rails, waving her hands and calling to him. Sam was already bounding through the pumpkin vines and through the yard, yipping excitedly. Even the old dog had allowed Dallas into his heart.

  Dallas paused to scratch Sam’s ears, then glanced up, catching Chandra’s gaze. His face was grim, his expression sober, and Chandra’s heart dropped to her knees. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong! J.D.! She vaulted over the fence and told her racing pulse to slow. Maybe J.D. was fine, but she couldn’t quiet the screams of desperation that tore through her heart.

  “What is it?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay calm. She couldn’t lose control. “Something’s wrong. Is it J.D.?”

  “The baby’s fine,” he assured her, but drew her into the warm circle of his arms and held her close to calm her. His breath fanned her hair and she felt the tension in his muscles.

  “But there’s trouble,” she guessed as they stood in the rows of corn, the thick leaves rustling in the breeze.

  “There could be.” He took her hand and pulled her gently in the direction of the orchard, where they sat on the fence rails and stared across the valley. “My beeper went off as I was heading back here. Dr. Trent, chief of administration, wanted me to stop back by the hospital.”

  “And?”

  “He showed me the first of what appears to be an onslaught of gifts, cards and letters for Baby Doe. One corner of his office was filled, and that’s just the start. The hospital fax machine has been working overtime with pleas from barren couples from Colorado, Utah, Arizona and California who want to adopt the baby. Lawyers are calling or showing up in person, and the switchboard has been jammed, which is causing all sorts of problems for the hospital.”

  Her stomach somersaulted.

  “Trent’s not too happy about this, to say the least, and he called me in because of the article about you and me. Seems it’s already gotten around the hospital that you and I are an item. And I didn’t deny it. I told Trent we were getting married and hope to adopt the baby.”

  Chandra’s heart was beating like a drum. “What did he say?”

  “‘Good luck,’ and I quote,” Dallas replied, holding one of her hands in both of his. “Trent showed me some of the requests for adoption. You wouldn’t believe it. Frank was right. Some people are so desperate that they’re offering gifts to the hospital, and we’re not just talking peanuts. One physician and his wife from South Dakota are willing to buy some very expensive equipment for the pediatric wing.”

  “But that’s bribery—”

  “Another couple—both lawyers—offered free legal services to the hospital.”

  “I can’t believe it.”

  He slung an arm over her shoulder, and his expression had become sober, his eyes dark with emotion. “I think it’s time we thought about this long and hard. There’s a good chance that the baby will be adopted by someone we don’t know, someone who lives thousands of miles away from here.”

  So this was it—he was breaking up with her. And they’d lost the baby. Chandra wanted to crumble into a million pieces, but she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

  “I don’t believe all this,” she argued heatedly. “I can’t believe that the state or the hospital would…would stoop to blackmail!”

  “It’s not the hospital’s decision, anyway. And a good thing. Trent always has his eyes on possible endowments. But his hands are tied. He and the hospital lawyers are just trying to figure out what to do with all the gifts that are coming in—the pediatric wing is already filled with stuffed animals.”

  “So we still have a chance,” Chandra said, unable to calm the fear that rushed through her blood.

  “If you’re still willing to toss our hat into the ring.”

  “Absolutely!”

  His lips twitched and a glint of admiration twinkled in his eyes. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t back down.”

  “No way. We haven’t lost yet.”

  “Well, then, I don’t think we should wait. Forget the marriage license and waiting period. I think we should fly to Las Vegas tonight. The sooner we’re married, the sooner we’ll be able to fight this as a couple.”

  “You’re serious?” she whispered, touched. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him over and over again.

  Dallas reached into his pocket and withdrew two airline tickets. His eyes never left her face. “Well, Ms. Hill, this is it. Do or die. Are we going through with this?”

  Her throat closed for a second. Marriage. Just like that. A quick elopement to the tower of glitz in Nevada. So much for moonlight and roses, candlelight and wine. Romance didn’t have any part of this transaction…well, at least not much. But she couldn’t deny the feelings of love that were sprouting in her breast, nor could she voice them. She managed a smile. “Where would we live? What would we do—”

  “We can live here—or you can move into my condo.”

  “No, here,” she said, her mind spinning with plans for the future. “The cabin’s big enough, and I need to be near the horses, and J.D. would love to live out here in the country—” She gathered in her breath and stopped. “But what do you want?”

  He hesitated for a minute and drew his gaze away. “I just want to make you happy,” he said, and Chandra could hardly believe her ears. This man who had told her all they had in common was the baby and sex?

  “You don’t have to pretend to fall in love with me,” she said, and watched his eyes cloud. She rushed on. “We both know that this is only for the baby.”

  “And what happens if we lose him?” Dallas asked.

  She sighed and her heart seemed to break into a thousand pieces. “That can’t happen.”

  “What if it does?”

  Then I’ll set you free. Oh, Lord, would she be able to? Or was she falling hopelessly in love with a man who couldn’t learn to give love in return? “You won’t have to be obligated to me, Dallas. I’ll sign whatever prenuptial agreement your lawyers come up with.”

  “I think it’s a little late for prenuptials—that is, if you still want to get married. Well?” He stared at her so intensely that her breath was lost somewhere in her throat. “What do you say?”

  “I’d say we’d better get a move on if we’re going to catch our flight.” She hopped lithely off the fence, determined to ignore the omnipresent doubts.

  Together, they walked through the garden and into the house, where she threw her one good dress and a few essentials into a small bag. Then, making sure that her horses and Sam were fed, she climbed into Dallas’s truck, and they headed to Denver where they planned to take a ten o’clock flight to Las Vegas. The way Dallas explained it, they’d be married sometime after midnight, stop long enough to drink a bottle of champagne over an extremely late dinner, then catch an early-morning flight back to Denver.

  They’d lose a night’s sleep, but not much more as they would go to their respective jobs as Dr. and Mrs. Dallas O’Rourke tomorrow morning. Just like that. Quick and simple. She wondered what she’d tell her parents, who expected to be invited to the wedding, and her sisters, who had both shied away from marriage. Then, of course, how was she going to handle her new role as Dallas’s wife? Life was suddenly becoming complicated.

  As Dallas drove through the night-shrouded mountains toward Denver, she glanced at him. His profile was strong and handsome, and his eyebrows were pulled low over his eyes as he squinted against the glare of oncoming headlights.

  As far as husbands went, she knew, Dallas would be better than most. Good-looking, rugged, definitely male, passionate and, for all intents and purposes, honest. And as far as their lov
emaking was concerned, even now she felt goose bumps. Maybe in time he would learn to love her. They could learn together.

  But she didn’t kid herself. He wouldn’t be easy to live with, and he did brood. His temper was as volatile as hers and as many times as she longed to make love to him, she’d just as soon strangle him.

  Well, if nothing else, she decided, seeing the lights of Denver glow ethereally against the night black sky, marriage to him would never be dull.

  * * *

  AS FAR AS ROMANCE WENT, the ceremony left a lot to be desired. The minister was red eyed and drowsy, and his breath was laced liberally with liquor. He wore a clerical collar, black jacket and slippers.

  His little wife, a mere slip of a woman, smiled through her yawns, and his sister, whose floral dress stretched at the seams, played piano.

  Chandra, dressed in a simple pink dress, held Dallas’s hand as the minister went through the ritual. Dallas seemed amused by the scene. Wearing black slacks and a white shirt, he was dressed more like a patron of the neon-lit casinos than a bridegroom.

  No rings were exchanged, but upon the orders of the minister, Dallas swept Chandra into his arms and kissed her long and hard in the little chapel on the outskirts of Las Vegas.

  “It doesn’t seem real,” Chandra observed as they walked back to the rented car, dodging traffic, that rushed by in the early-morning hours.

  “We’ve got a signed certificate. It’s legal.”

  “But—”

  He snorted as he opened the door of the white sedan for her. “The last time I got married, we had a bona fide church, preacher, six attendants, a three-tiered cake and all the trimmings. It didn’t make for any guarantees.”

  Sighing, she scooted into the interior of the Plymouth. Her first wedding had been complete with a long, white, beaded gown, bridesmaids in lavender silk and ushers in matching tuxedos. A huge reception with flowing champagne, an incredible ice sculpture and hors d’oeuvres hadn’t created a perfect marriage. Far from it. Dallas was right. And yet, as she caught a glimpse of her ringless left hand, she wondered if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.

  “My folks will kill me,” she said, thinking of the calls she would have to make, the questions that would be hurled at her, the explanations she’d have to repeat over and over again.

  “Mine will be relieved.” He started the engine and edged the Plymouth into traffic, toward the hotel where they’d registered earlier.

  “Will they?”

  His grin turned cynical. “Oh, sure. My mother won’t have to feel guilty about not paying me enough attention, and my father will probably think now he’ll finally get that grandson he thinks he’s owed. I’m the last of his line of O’Rourkes.”

  “He’ll get that grandson,” she said firmly, eyeing the glitter that was Las Vegas. People spilled out of casinos, music and conversation filled the air, and the night was as bright as day, lit by a trillion watts of neon.

  Dallas stopped for a red light, and in the glow, his face turned hard, his lips compressed. “Sorry to shatter your dreams, Chandra, but J.D. won’t count. At least not with my father.”

  “He damned well better,” she said, her fists clenching in determination.

  “You don’t know Harrison O’Rourke. He’s from the old school, and J.D. won’t be blood kin.”

  “And therefore worthless?”

  “As far as the family tree goes,” Dallas said, frowning as the light changed and he stepped on the accelerator. “Nope, Harrison will expect an O’Rourke son—not a daughter, mind you.” He slid her a glance and grinned cynically. “So don’t go disappointing him.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, her temper flaring at Harrison O’Rourke’s antiquated ideas. “I’ll tell you one thing, if and when I ever get the honor of meeting your ogre of a father, he’d better treat all our children equally—and that includes J.D. and our daughters!”

  Dallas shook his head as he turned toward the hotel. “So now we’ve got daughters?”

  “We might!”

  “Even if we don’t adopt J.D.?” he asked, turning his gaze her way for just a second.

  “I—I can’t think about not having J.D. Not yet,” she said softly. She clutched the handle of her purse in a death grip and tried to think about anything other than the awful fact that little J.D.’s future was out of her hands.

  Dallas drove to the rental-car parking lot of the hotel. Twenty stories high, the concrete-and-steel building glowed like the proverbial Christmas tree. A marquee announced a famous comic as the weekend’s entertainment, and liveried bellboys and ushers welcomed them.

  The lobby was awash with light, and a fountain spraying pink water two stories high was situated in the central foyer. Veined marble and forest green carpet covered the floor.

  Chandra could hardly believe that she was actually here, married and about to spend the wee morning hours of her honeymoon in the bridal suite.

  With the help of the bell captain, they were whisked to the nineteenth floor and left in a three-room suite complete with complimentary champagne, heart-shaped tub and a round bed covered with silk sheets.

  “Don’t you think this is overdoing it a little?” she asked, eyeing the bed, beyond which the view of the city, lights winking endlessly, stretched into the desert.

  “I thought it was the least I could do. This won’t be much of a honeymoon.”

  She swallowed a smile and arched a coy brow. “You think not?” She glanced meaningfully at the bed. “Somehow, I think you’ll find a way to make up for lost opportunities.”

  “You might be right,” he agreed, striding so close to her they were almost touching. Only a breath of air separated their bodies, and Chandra’s pulse quickened. Slowly he surrounded her with his arms and lowered his mouth to hers. “Maybe we should open the champagne and toast the bride and groom….”

  Her breath was already lost in her lungs. “Later,” she whispered.

  “You’re sure?”

  Oh, God, was that her heart thumping so loudly when he hadn’t yet touched her? “Yes, Doctor,” she whispered breathlessly, “I’m positive.”

  With a wicked grin, Dallas lifted her off her feet and carried her quickly to the bed. “You know, Mrs. O’Rourke, I like the way you think.” He dropped her on the silken coverlet, and his lips found hers, molding intimately over her mouth as his body formed to hers. She welcomed his weight and the gentle probing of his tongue.

  His fingers worked on the small buttons of her dress, and the pink fabric parted. Dallas groaned as he shoved the dress off her shoulders and stripped it from her body. He moved his hands easily over the silk of her slip and touched the lace that covered her breasts. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her hair.

  She opened his shirt and touched the fine mat of hair on his chest. He caught his breath, and she watched in wonder as his abdomen sucked in and became rigid. “So are you,” she whispered, fascinated by this man.

  His lips found hers again, and he made short work of their clothes, kicking them into a pile and never once releasing her. Chandra’s skin seared where his fingers touched her body, and her breasts ached for more of his sweet, sweet touch. She arched against him, feeling the magic of his hands, lost in the wonder of his mouth.

  He kissed her face, her neck, her hair. She writhed against him, trying to get closer, and when his tongue rimmed the delicate circle of bones at the base of her throat, she cried out. He moved lower still, kissing her breasts and suckling on her nipples while he explored her back and hips with sure hands.

  “Dallas,” she whispered, her voice rough and low, “Dallas.” She traced a path along the curve of his spine, and he held back no longer. Suddenly he was atop her, his knee between hers, his chest heaving.

  Their lips locked, and he entered her for the first time as her husband. “I can’t wait,” he whispered, and began his magical rhythm. Chandra clung to him, moving with him, feeling the sweat collect on her skin. She thought he whis
pered words of love, but in her fevered state she might have heard her own voice as they exploded together and she cried out.

  “Dallas!”

  “Oh, love, oh, love,” he sighed, collapsing against her, spent.

  They held each other for endless minutes as the fog of afterglow surrounded them. Chandra closed her eyes, for she knew she might cry, not from sadness, but from deeper emotions that tore at her heart.

  When her heartbeat was finally normal, she opened her eyes and found him staring at her. “You okay?” he asked, and she smiled, shyly and self-consciously, as if she’d been a virgin.

  “I’m fine. You?”

  He swept back the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “Well, I’m a helluva lot better than fine. In fact, I think I’m great.”

  She giggled, and to her mortification he picked her up and carried her, stark naked, into the bathroom. “What’re you doing?” she asked as he dropped her into the tub and twisted on the faucets.

  “If this is going to be a honeymoon, we’ve got to make the most of it,” he replied, his eyes glinting devilishly as warm water rushed into the tub.

  “By bathing?”

  “Or whatever.” He lit two candles, brought in the champagne and turned out the lights. She couldn’t take her eyes off his lean muscles, how they moved so easily under his skin. She was intrigued by all of him—the way his dark hair matted across his chest, the corded strength of his shoulders, the white slash of a smile that flashed crookedly in the light of flickering candles.

  He stepped into the tub and gathered her into his arms, and their slick bodies melded together. “This is crazy,” she said with a laugh as he positioned her legs around him.

  “This is wonderful,” he corrected. The water rose to their chests, and he turned off the faucets. In the shadowy light, he gazed at her with eyes that seemed to shine with love.

  “Now, Mrs. O’Rourke,” he said, tracing a drip from her neck to the hollow of her breast, “let’s find a way to stretch out these few hours as long as we can.”