The Cowboy's Baby Surprise

“I don’t know. I wish I did. You disappeared. You were there…and then suddenly you were gone.” Her voice shook and she dropped her chin.

The frustration welled up, making him blind with need. He grabbed her shoulders and lasered a kiss across her lips….

When at last he had to take a breath, he broke away from her with a jolt, gasping for air. Gazing at her kiss-swollen lips, he knew he still didn’t remember, still was at a loss for a past life.

The fact that she knew more about him than he knew about himself was nearly unbearable. The woman in his arms had a history, and she held the key to his past, as well.

Dear Reader,

Summer vacation is simply a state of mind…so create your dream getaway by reading six new love stories from Silhouette Desire!

Begin your romantic holiday with A Cowboy’s Pursuit by Anne McAllister. This MAN OF THE MONTH title is the author’s 50th book and part of her CODE OF THE WEST miniseries. Then learn how a Connelly bachelor mixes business with pleasure in And the Winner Gets…Married! by Metsy Hingle, the sixth installment of our exciting DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS continuity series.

An unlikely couple swaps insults and passion in Maureen Child’s The Marine & the Debutante—the latest of her popular BACHELOR BATTALION books. And a night of passion ignites old flames in The Bachelor Takes a Wife by Jackie Merritt, the final offering in TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE LAST BACHELOR continuity series.

In Single Father Seeks… by Amy J. Fetzer, a businessman and his baby captivate a CIA agent working under cover as their nanny. And in Linda Conrad’s The Cowboy’s Baby Surprise, an amnesiac FBI agent finds an undreamed-of happily-ever-after when he’s reunited with his former partner and lover.

Read these passionate, powerful and provocative new Silhouette Desire romances and enjoy a sensuous summer vacation!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Cowboy’s Baby Surprise

Linda Conrad

LINDA CONRAD

was born in Brazil to a commercial pilot dad and a mother whose first gift was a passion for stories. She was raised in South Florida and has been a dreamer and a storyteller for as long as she can remember. Linda claims her earliest memories are of sitting in her mother’s lap, listening to a beloved storybook or searching through the picture books in the library to find that special one.

When Linda met and married her own dream-come-true hero, he fostered another of her other inherited vices—being a vagabond. They moved to seven different states in seven years, finally becoming enchanted with and settling down in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas.

Reality anchored Linda to their Texas home long enough to raise a daughter and become a stockbroker and certified financial planner. Her whole world suddenly changed when her widowed mother suffered a disabling stroke and Linda spent a year as her caretaker. Before her mother’s second and fatal stroke, she begged Linda to go back to her dreams—to finally tell the stories buried within her heart.

Linda’s hobbies are reading, growing roses and experiencing new things. However, her real passion is “passion”—reading about it, writing about it and living it. She believes that true passion and intensity for life and love are seductive—they consume the soul and make life’s trials and tribulations worth all the effort.

“I am extremely grateful that today I can live my dreams by being able to share the passionate stories and lovable characters that have lived deep within me for so long,” Linda declares.

For Emily Olmstead, Sarah Gross and Donna Kordela, the greatest critique group ever. This book never would have happened without your valuable input.

And to my sister, Susan Zyne, and to my dearest husband, J.C. Both of you believed in me always, and that made all the difference in the world.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

One

“You want me to take my baby on a stakeout?” Carley Mills shoved her chair back from the desk and stood to confront her boss. “Have you totally lost your mind?” she muttered in her typical lazy, Southern accent.

“This isn’t a ‘stakeout,’ for crying out loud. Will you listen to the proposition before you go jumping to conclusions?” Carley’s boss, Reid Sorrels, towered over her, and she felt the brunt of his notoriously dark stare.

As the busy assistant field operations manager for the Houston office of the FBI and agent in charge of Operation Rock-a-Bye, Reid got to the point. “Besides, you know I’d never do anything to put my goddaughter in jeopardy, don’t you?” He plopped down in one of the two secretary chairs facing Carley’s desk.

She stiffened her spine to face him and thought of how far she’d come in the last eighteen months. She’d been so devastated when her partner and lover, Witt Davidson, disappeared that she couldn’t have confronted a flea, let alone someone as burly and determined as her boss.

Witt had vanished into thin air. She’d always thought she was a strong person, able to cope with anything life threw her way. She prided herself on being able to help others with their problems and emotional traumas. But the stress of not knowing what happened to the man who fathered her child had nearly broken her.

All right, so he’d never said he loved her. And he certainly hadn’t shown any enthusiasm for settling down with a family…but Witt hadn’t really known he had a family, either. Carley hadn’t given him a chance to know. She’d been so desperate to be sure he really cared for her that she’d put off telling him until they could get away from their jobs and truly be alone.

But right in the middle of a major sting operation at Lake Houston one fateful August night Witt disappeared. One minute he’d been smiling at her and heading off to check out a suspicious-looking truck—then he was gone. Without a trace.

They’d been so close to a tentative commitment. She’d known he was skittish about settling down, but she was positive she could have made him admit his love. Despite her conviction that Witt was a good man and wouldn’t run away, the doubts continually plagued her.

“You still with me, Carl?” Reid broke into her thoughts, and she set her jaw to tackle her immediate problem.

Carley edged around the beat-up oak desk until she stood a couple of feet from her boss, a man whose chronological age placed him at about thirty-three, only a few years older than she. Regardless of chronological age, he was light years ahead in wisdom and strength.

She leaned her rear against the desktop and forced a smile at the man who’d been her savior more times than she could count. “Of course I know you wouldn’t hurt Cami…intentionally. But to uproot her and go chasing off to some remote part of the West sounds like it might not be in her best interest, either.”

Reid scowled. “You still haven’t listened. That part of the Texas-Mexico border is perfectly civilized.” He ran a few fingers through his chestnut-colored hair, disturbing the lines of a new, trim cut. “The youth ranch is only thirty miles outside McAllen, Texas. It’s a city of over a hundred thousand people, and less than a day’s drive from here.”

“Fine. Great. But what earthly good would I be at a ranch? I’ve never set foot on one in my life.”

“Damn it, Carley, I asked you to keep an open mind and listen. The place is essentially an institution, an orphanage…although they don’t call them that these days. You’re trained in child psychology…and they need a child psychologist. You’ll hardly even know you’re on a ranch.”

With a huge sigh, Carley braced herself for whatever came next. She had a feeling another drastic life change was headed her way. Since a few months before Cami’s birth, the Bureau had refused to use her for undercover work. Lately she’d spent most of her time certifying the paperwork for the Mexican babies that the operation had recovered, and verifying the children to be fit for the return to their native country.

Now, all of sudden, the FBI needed her to do surveillance at the border? And to take Cami with her? The whole thing sounded ridiculous.

“The foster home is run by the Texas church council, but these kinds of places never have enough money to operate.” Reid gave her a few more details. The way he scrutinized her face with his deep-set eyes let Carley know he was closely judging her reactions. “There are always more children than the funds to keep them. The church runs both a cattle ranch and a citrus farm to help provide the means to keep the children’s home afloat.”

“But what exactly do you expect me to do there?”

“I expect you to do what you’re best at…work with the children. All the kids there are throwaways. The babies have been dumped and are unadoptable until the state determines parental rights. The older children are either youthful offenders sent there for rehabilitation or they’re disabled in some way. As you can imagine, all of them have emotional problems.”

Yep, he knew her well. Her imagination ran rampant with thoughts of the cast-off children who needed the care only she could give them. “But what will I be doing for Operation Rock-a-Bye?”

“The border is where the action is right now.” Reid smiled at her with only the corners of his eyes. “You know we’ve tracked some of the scum from this international baby-selling ring to the McAllen area. Just pay attention to what’s going on.”

He shifted in his too-small seat and looked decidedly uncomfortable. “We have an agent in the area, Manny Sanchez, who’s undercover as a veterinarian’s assistant. The job enables him to travel along the Rio Grande talking to farm and ranch laborers. With his information we’ve stopped dozens of coyotes in the act of bringing Mexican babies across the border.”

Reid sat forward in his chair and put his elbows on his knees. “Manny heard a rumor, spreading through the illegal population a while back, that a few of the babies showing up at the church home are coming from across the river, not from the usual state agencies.”

He stood to drive home his point. “Manny’s been working every day with the vet on the church’s cattle, doing the yearly inseminations and inoculations, but we need someone inside the place. Someone with access to the children…and to the records.”

Carley knew she was sunk. “And how am I going to get the job?”

“The job is yours. One of the elders on the church-council is an old friend of mine. The person who used to hold the position had a sudden ‘family emergency.’ The home administrator is expecting you and Cami. He doesn’t know your real identity…just that you’re a psychologist and a single mother in need of work. His church council supervisor has vouched for you.”

“Swell. And when…” Something in her boss’s eyes stopped her cold.

“There’s something else. Something urgent.”

Ah. Here comes the real reason. Carley held her breath and waited.

Reid turned his back and paced to the far corner of the tiny, cluttered office. “Manny Sanchez worked with your old partner, Witt, on an undercover operation near El Paso about five years ago. The mission lasted only a short time, and the two men saw each other for mere minutes, but…”

Carley’s heart paused in midbeat. “This is about Witt? Has there been a break in the investigation into his disappearance?” She flew at Reid’s wide back and, catching him off guard, spun him to face her. “Tell me what this is about.”

“Take it easy.” Reid cleared his throat, straightened his back and resumed his agent-in-charge demeanor. “Special Agent Charleston Mills, you know the Bureau will never give up until we uncover what happened to Davidson. Every FBI agent in the world keeps one eye open for him at all times. We don’t just lose agents.”

Reid gently pulled Carley’s hands from his shoulders and held on to her wrists, making her listen carefully to his explanation. “Manny believed a fellow working on the ranch bares an uncanny resemblance to Davidson.”

Carley’s mouth dropped open, and the room started to spin. “But…but…”

Reid threw an arm around her shoulder and guided her into a chair. “You need some water?”

She shook her head but still couldn’t manage to speak.

“We’ve verified it’s Davidson from his prints. But…he isn’t using his own name and didn’t recognize Manny.”

Carley found her voice. “Why didn’t you bring him home? Is he being held against his will? Is it possible that’s why he couldn’t admit who he is?”

Reid shrugged. “Not likely. In the first place, can you picture someone holding Davidson against his will for eighteen months?”

A smile threatened to break out on her face, but she held back, only managing to shake her head once more. So many questions ran through her mind that her own needs were pushed aside for the time being.

“No? Me, neither.” Reid sat back on the desk the same as Carley had done earlier. “In the second place, Manny says this fellow comes and goes whenever he wants…seems to have the run of the place.”

“Then what’s going on? If it’s Witt, why isn’t he home?” Carley felt her blood begin to boil. How could Witt stay away? How could he do such a thing to the agency? To her?

Reid stood to pace, then stopped, and Carley sensed he was forcing himself to face her again. “We’ve done some checking with his co-workers and have come to a startling conclusion. Davidson’s lost his memory and has no idea who he is.

“Amnesia seems like the only explanation that makes much sense. Before I drag him back here and institutionalize him, I figure you’re the perfect person to try to help him regain his memory…you being a psychologist and in love with him and all.”

Carley was stunned speechless. Witt an amnesia victim? Strong, dangerous Witt Davidson needed her help?

“I can’t spare you much time,” Reid warned. “But we’re moving the bulk of our operation to the border in the general vicinity of the foster ranch. You go work on bringing Witt back to us, Carley. But keep in touch. If you need anything, let me know.”

Twenty-four hours later Carley introduced herself to Gabe Diaz, a man about sixty with gray-streaked hair and kindly eyes behind round, thick glasses. A former church preacher and currently the home administrator, Gabe welcomed her and showed her through the main house.

She’d spent six hours of the last day just driving to this godforsaken place. Carley had checked it out on the map and had the auto club trace the directions in yellow marker. Nevertheless, many times on the trip she’d been convinced she’d gotten lost. No one could live this far out of the way or survive with all this bleak landscape.

Perfectly civilized, my foot.

Carley spent most of the trying, six-hour drive daydreaming about the last time she’d seen Witt. About how his blond hair and boy-next-door good looks made him the perfect undercover agent. Criminals never suspected the steely danger lurking within him. But the man also had a tender side, as she knew only too well. Carley nearly drove herself and Cami off the road remembering his gentle caresses and his seductive kisses.

With Cami buckled securely in her car seat, they’d gone for several hours without so much as seeing a gas station. Every couple of hours Carley had pulled off the road to give Cami a drink or change her diaper. Finally the car had crested a small incline, and she’d been relieved to see the outskirts of a real city.

The city of McAllen, located on the Texas-Mexico border at a bend in the Rio Grande, was home to over a hundred thousand people. In every direction, Carley saw shopping, schools, churches. Everything looked new and clean and prosperous, as the city sprang out of the open range to the north. Unfortunately, the map to the foster home routed her the west, away from this sparkling little city, and into a dangerous looking and desolate countryside.

She’d followed the road along the Rio Grande until she’d finally found the turnoff to the children’s home and ranch. Her car had bumped down a pitted, caliche roadway past what appeared to be miles of nothing but cactus and cows.

The end of the road had brought them to a handful of buildings and barns. She’d seen an imposing-looking two-story house surrounded by trees, dirt and a wide black-topped parking lot. The flapping wood sign on an old post had said, Casa de Valle. “House in the Valley,” their temporary new home.

“I need to speak to one of the counselors,” Preacher Gabe said, bringing her back to the present. “Look around for yourself after you settle Cami into the day room. The older children watch over the babies and toddlers there. They’re real good with the babies. You’ll be impressed.”

Carley handed Cami off to a sweet-looking young girl and dumped their luggage in the upstairs room assigned to them. She didn’t even bother to change clothes before heading outside. With no earthly idea of where to begin looking for a man on a ranch, she was determined to track down this person who was supposed to be Witt—that very afternoon.

At first Carley had been shocked by Reid’s idea of amnesia. But she quickly adjusted and readied herself for any contingency before packing and making the long drive. Besides her personal gear and the various Bureau-issued weapons and equipment, she’d armed herself with information. She remembered a few things about amnesia from school, but if this was indeed Witt, and he was suffering from memory loss, she intended to help in any way she could.

She’d downloaded every scrap of information from the Internet and called on one of her former professors. What she’d found didn’t give her much hope. Most amnesia victims either recovered their memories within a few weeks or, at most, a couple of months—or they never did. The thought of finding Witt after all this time, only to never really get him back, preyed on her mind.

“Maybe the shock of seeing you will jolt his memory,” her professor had said. Oh please. If there is a God, it will be that simple.

The other standard piece of advice was not to force things—to let the memories return on their own. “Give him time. Losing your entire existence can be a very frightening proposition.”

Easy for a distant professor to say, Carley thought. Much harder to accomplish when it was someone you loved who’d totally forgotten you.

When she stepped outside into the sun, not much appeared to be happening on this hot afternoon in the yard between the back door of the huge main house and the various outbuildings within walking distance. Carley wondered if everyone took a siesta after lunch in this part of the world.

“Excuse me, ma’am, you looking for something?” A cowboy in jeans, a plaid shirt and straw hat appeared out of the shadows and ambled toward her from one of the big, barn-like structures.

“Uh…yes. I’m looking for someone.”

“And who would that be? You don’t look like you’d be knowing anybody in these parts…if you don’t mind me saying so, ma’am.”

Carley looked down at herself. Still dressed in the wool-blend pants suit and short heels she’d worn for the trip, she guessed she probably didn’t look much like she belonged in a barnyard. Now why hadn’t she taken a minute to change into her jeans?

Before doing anything about that mistake, she needed to find a way out of her more immediate problem. Carley couldn’t remember what name Reid had said Witt was using. Who the heck should she say she was looking for?

Suddenly she thought of another name she did remember. “Do you know the vet’s assistant, Manny…somebody?”

The cowboy eyed her warily. “Yes’um. He’s down to the stud barn just now. Would you like me to fetch him for you?”

The situation was getting worse and worse. Why hadn’t she thought this through before she’d jumped into action? How would she find Witt when she had no idea what name he used?

“I…” she stammered.

“¿Qué paso, amigo? Something wrong?”

Carley spun in the direction of the familiar voice coming from behind her. She thought she’d armed herself with knowledge. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of the man who’d haunted her dreams day and night, as he sauntered across the dirt in their direction.

“Thank God…” Her knees buckled and the next thing she knew Witt had her in his arms, holding her against his body for support.

She’d given up on ever feeling Witt’s arms around her again. Months ago Carley had truly lost all hope. And now that she could feel his muscles rippling under her grip, could smell his own beloved musky scent as he held her near, the hope flared.

Witt stared down at her in his arms as if he was holding a complete stranger. The flame of hope quickly died again.

“Feeling all right, ma’am? You delirious or dehydrated, maybe? Being out here in the sun without a hat isn’t too smart.” He set her unsteadily on her feet and backed away—leaving one hand on her elbow for support. “How about if I take you back to the main house? Maybe a glass of water will help?”

Her parched body desperately needed to drink in the sight of him. She’d been thirsty for his embrace for far too long.

Reality splashed her like a cold shower. Nothing would help. Witt’s first sight of her had not stirred any memories—in him.

Unfortunately, the sight of him brought stunning images crashing in on Carley. She fought the tantalizing memory of his kiss, so full of irresistible passion and erotic hunger. Her head swam with remembering his touch on her skin—the touch that could heat the blood in her veins and send shivers dancing down her spine. A fierce craving to draw them both into the inner fire nearly brought her to her knees for the second time since getting an initial glimpse of him after all these months.

“You need my help, Houston?” The ranch hand’s question broke into her daydream.

Witt turned to the other man but moved his steadying hand to Carley’s shoulder. “Naw. You go on back to work, pal. I think I can handle things here.”

Witt eyed her with a sideways glance. “I can handle you, can’t I, little lady?” He bent to whisper in her ear and the feel of his warm breath on her cheek suddenly seemed comforting.

For one fleeting moment Carley wondered if Witt could be faking a memory loss. But within an instant she knew, deep inside her bones, that the man she’d loved could not disguise his real identity—at least, not while he stood so close. When she didn’t respond, his eyes narrowed to slits. He firmly gripped her elbow, leading her to the main house.

“Oh, Wi—” no sense confusing him by calling him a name he would likely not recognize “—cowboy,” she choked. “I imagine you can handle me just fine.”

If I can manage to control myself around you.

By the time Witt ushered her into the kitchen of the main house, Carley had regained, at least, partial control of her emotions. First things first. She needed to address him by a name that wouldn’t be disorienting.

When he handed her a glass of water, she noticed her hands were shaking, but decided to ignore them.

“The name’s Carley,” she said, with more emphasis than necessary. “Carley Mills. What’s yours?”

“Carley?” He took her free hand in both of his. “Nice name for such a dainty lady.”