Dear Reader,

For the past twenty years Silhouette has been bringing you stories of love, laughter, passion and families. I have been honored to be a part of that tradition for more than half of that time. I can’t imagine anything more rewarding, either as a writer or as a reader. In the end, you see, that is what I am—a reader, just like you.

I love to read about that first hesitant glance of interest between two people, about their struggles to make a relationship work and, of course, about the power of love. As a former journalist who still avidly follows the news, I know that the world is often not a pretty place, just as the path to love is not always smooth. But I am ultimately a believer in the happy ending, and nobody brings you that with more variety, more tears, more laughter and more satisfaction than Silhouette. I’m so glad to be a part of that tradition and even more delighted that you are, too.

With warm congratulations to Silhouette for bringing a little touch of romance into all of our lives.

And Baby Makes Three:

The Delacourts of Texas:

A Delacourt of Texas finds love, and fatherhood,

in a most unexpected way!

Dylan and the Baby Doctor
Sherryl Woods

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SHERRYL WOODS

Whether she’s living in California, Florida or Virginia, Sherryl Woods always makes her home by the sea. A walk on the beach, the sound of waves, the smell of the salt air all provide inspiration for this writer of more than sixty romance and mystery novels. Sherryl hopes you’re enjoying these latest entries in the AND BABY MAKES THREE series for Silhouette Special Edition. You can write to Sherryl or—from April through December—stop by and meet her at her bookstore, Potomac Sunrise, 308 Washington Avenue, Colonial Beach, VA 22443.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Prologue

A half dozen yelling, laughing toddlers raced around the backyard of pediatrician Kelsey James. They were definitely on a sugar high after consuming enough birthday cake and ice cream for twice as many kids.

Maybe they hadn’t actually consumed it, she concluded after a survey of the mess. An awful lot appeared to have been smeared over shirts, spilled on the dark green picnic table or dumped in the grass, along with trails of ribbon and shredded wrapping paper. Melting pools of vanilla ice cream were everywhere. Having the party outside had been a very smart decision.

“Obviously, the party is a success,” Lizzy Adams-Robbins declared, conducting her own survey of the damage. “I can’t imagine why you were so worried.”

Finally, after days of ridiculous anxiety over throwing a kid’s birthday party, Kelsey actually allowed herself to relax. She listened to the laughter and smiled for the first time in days, maybe longer. The tight knot in her stomach eased and something that felt a lot like contentment replaced it. It was such a fragile, unfamiliar sensation, she basked in it for just a moment before responding.

“It is wonderful, isn’t it?” she said finally. “I know I was acting like a nutcase over this, but Bobby’s been through so much these past few months—leaving his dad, moving to a new place, making new friends. I just wanted his birthday party to be special. The Western theme was his idea. Ever since we stayed out at your father’s ranch, he’s really taken with the idea of being a cowboy.”

“Well, the new boots were definitely a big hit,” Lizzy said.

“They ought to be. Custom boots for a three-year-old.” Kelsey shook her head. “I must be overcompensating.”

Lizzy, whom she had known since med school in Miami, squeezed her hand. “Kelsey, stop with the guilt this instant. You had no choice. You had to divorce Paul. He was a creep. And you were absolutely right to get out of Miami and come here. The clinic needed you. I needed you. And Bobby is fitting in just fine.” She clasped Kelsey’s shoulders and turned her to look at the chaos. “You can stop overcompensating. Does that look like a little boy who is unhappy?”

Kelsey found herself grinning again at the sight of her son, his chubby little legs pumping furiously to keep up with the older children, his face streaked with chocolate frosting and vanilla ice cream. He looked like a perfectly normal little boy who was having the time of his life.

“He is having a good time, isn’t he? And the presents…” She shook her head in bemusement. “Your family really didn’t have to go crazy with the presents. There are too many toys. He doesn’t play with even half of the ones he has now.”

Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Tell that to my father. He doesn’t believe it’s possible for a child to have too many toys. Nothing makes him happier than spoiling his babies, and as far as he’s concerned you and Bobby became part of the family the minute you arrived in town.”

Harlan Adams truly was remarkable. Kelsey had heard all about him from Lizzy, of course, but even all those old tales of a doting father hadn’t prepared her for the incredible eighty-nine-year-old patriarch of the Adams clan. She had never known anyone as generous or as wise. Or as meddlesome, she thought fondly.

When he’d first heard about Kelsey’s decision to leave Miami and the reasons for it, he’d called her himself and added his invitation to Lizzy’s. Once she was in Los Piños, he’d welcomed her warmly, taking her and Bobby into his own home at White Pines until they could find a place of their own. He’d allowed the two of them to leave only when he’d checked out the new house for himself and concluded that it was suitable. He’d even insisted she raid his attic for furniture, since she’d taken very little from the Miami home she had shared with Paul.

Harlan Adams had also extracted a promise that they would go on joining the family for Sunday dinner at the ranch. He was as indulgent and attentive with Bobby as he was with all of his own grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Bobby had basked in the masculine attention, a commodity that had been all too rare in his young life. His own father had been too busy scoring business deals and pills to pay much attention to him.

With her own parents far away in Maine and not nearly as generous with their love or their time, Kelsey was more grateful for the Adamses than she could ever say. She owed them all, but especially Harlan, his wife Janet, and of course Lizzy, the best friend any woman could ask for. Lizzy had made it all possible and acted as if Kelsey were the one doing her a favor, rather than the other way around.

“Have I told you how grateful I am?” she asked Lizzy.

“Only about a million times,” Lizzy said. “I’m the one who’s grateful. We needed a pediatrician here and I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather work with than you. The timing couldn’t have been better.”

“Still—”

“Stop it,” Lizzy said firmly. She studied Kelsey intently. “Are you really doing okay, though? No second thoughts? No regrets over divorcing Paul? Los Pin˜os is a far cry from Miami and our little clinic would fit into one tiny corner of the trauma center back there.”

“Definitely no regrets over Paul. And you were the one who was hell-bent on being a big trauma doctor. I just love kids. It doesn’t matter where I treat them. I couldn’t be happier right here,” Kelsey reassured her, meaning every word.

The differences were all good ones. There was a sense of community here that was never possible in a bustling, urban environment like Miami. While she might have made a difference in Miami and while the medical challenges might have been greater, here the rewards came in the form of sticky hugs from her pint-sized patients and warm, grateful smiles from people she was getting to know as friends.

Most of all, Los Pin˜os was far away from Paul James and the disaster he had almost made of both their lives. Hopefully, he would never discover her whereabouts. Hopefully, her ex-husband would forget her existence—and Bobby’s. That was the deal they had made. She would forget his deceit, his illegal use of her prescription pads to get narcotics, and he would leave her and his son alone.

Forgetting hadn’t been easy. At the end, Paul’s behavior had been so erratic, so unpredictable, she hadn’t been convinced he would stick to his word…or even remember he’d given it. It had been nearly a year now, and so far she hadn’t heard so much as a peep from him. She was finally beginning to relax her guard a little. She’d stopped panicking whenever the phone rang or whenever a strange car drove past the house.

She glanced at Bobby, who was adding grape juice to the stains on his face and clothes, and smiled. He was all boy, a miniature version of her ex, with the same dimpled smile, the same light brown hair and dark brown eyes. But while her son’s eyes were bright and clear and most often twinkling with laughter, Paul’s had been shadowed or too-bright with the drugs she hadn’t guessed he was taking until way too late.

She felt Lizzy squeeze her hand, looked up and met her friend’s concerned gaze.

“Don’t go back there,” Lizzy advised. “Not even for a minute. You couldn’t have changed anything. It was Paul’s problem, not yours. If he didn’t care enough about himself or you to get off the pills, nothing you could have done would have helped.”

Kelsey was amazed by Lizzy’s perceptiveness. “How did you know what was on my mind?”

“Because it usually is. Besides, I always know what you’re thinking, just the way you could read my mind back in med school. You knew how I felt about marrying Hank practically before I did.”

Kelsey chuckled. “Not possible. You knew you were in love with Hank Robbins from the time you were a schoolgirl. From the moment we became roommates, all I ever heard about was Hank this or Hank that. It didn’t require major deductive reasoning to figure out you were crazy about the guy.”

“I knew I was in love with him, yes, but not that I was ready to marry him and juggle a baby, marriage and med school,” Lizzy said. “I was scared silly when I found out I was pregnant. You helped me to see that I had to take that final leap of faith, that we could make it work.”

Lizzy wasn’t exaggerating her panic. Kelsey recalled exactly how upset Lizzy had been when she’d first realized she was pregnant with Hank’s baby. There had never been a doubt in Kelsey’s mind what the outcome would be, especially once Hank had found out about the pregnancy. Lizzy’s handsome, totally smitten cowboy had pursued her with relentless determination, ignoring her doubts, finding solutions and compromises that Lizzy had claimed were impossible.

“It’s worked out fine, hasn’t it? No regrets?”

“Better than fine, smarty.” Lizzy grinned, then leaned closer to confide in a whisper, “In fact, we’re going to have another baby.”

“Oh, my.” Kelsey sighed, trying to hide any hint of envy. She had wanted a whole houseful of kids herself, but if Bobby was all she ever had, he would be enough. She gave Lizzy a fierce hug. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful. Does Hank know yet?”

Lizzy gave her a rueful look. “You may have found out before he did last time, but this time I thought Hank ought to be the first to know. I told him last night.”

“And?”

“He’s over the moon. He’s wanted this for a long time. I was the holdout. While I was finishing my residency and getting the clinic started, I didn’t think he should carry all the burden for child care, even though he seems to love it. I figured it was about time I pitched in, too. The clinic’s hours are a whole lot more consistent than my hours at the hospital in Garden City. I might actually get to see this baby’s first step and hear his or her first word. I missed so much of that with Jamey.”

“I am so happy for you.”

“Will you be a godmother to this one?”

Kelsey was enchanted with the idea of becoming an even more integral part of the extended Adams family. “Nothing would please me more,” she said at once. “Of course, with the two of us to influence this baby, he or she won’t have any choice but to be a doctor.”

Lizzy shook her head. “Not a chance. Girl or boy, Hank wants a rancher. He says Jamey already spends too much time wanting to cut up frogs like his mama did in school.”

Lizzy glanced around at the half dozen kids, most of whom were beginning to fade from all the partying. Her gaze sought out Jamey, who was tanned and had his daddy’s rich brown, sun-streaked hair. He was five now and had a definite mind of his own. The stubborn streak was Lizzy’s contribution, according to Hank, along with the fascination with cutting up dead critters.

“Well, I think it’s time to get the troops home before they all wind up sound asleep in your backyard,” Lizzy said.

“Thank you again for helping today,” Kelsey said.

“Anytime. If you need any of us for anything ever, all you need to do is call. Day or night, okay?”

It was something Lizzy never failed to remind her of, Kelsey thought, as her friend left with a carload of exhausted Adams kids. Although she appreciated the gesture of support, too often it only served as an unnerving reminder to Kelsey that as unpredictable as Paul James was, there very well could come a time when she would desperately need their help.

Chapter One

Dylan Delacourt knew perfectly well why he’d been spending so much time visiting his baby sister lately. Oh, he claimed that he was just checking up on her for the rest of the family. He said he liked helping his new brother-in-law work on the house Hardy had built for Trish. But the truth was, he was in Los Pin˜os because of his niece.

Baby Laura had stolen his heart. On his worst days, when he was so low everything looked black, Laura’s smile was like sunshine. Seeing it was a bittersweet sensation, though. It reminded him just a little too much of another baby, another sweet smile.

The last time he’d held his son, Shane had been just about Laura’s age, thirteen months. He’d just begun to toddle around on unsteady legs. He’d uttered his first word, Mama, and that had pretty much been the moment when Dylan had concluded that Shane belonged with Kit and her new husband full-time.

Saying goodbye to his boy, doing what was best for him and letting him grow up with a “father,” rather than a stepfather, had almost killed Dylan. He’d agonized over it for months, hated Kit for divorcing him and forcing him into making such an untenable decision.

But he had also known just how deep the bitterness between him and Kit ran, recognized that no matter how hard they tried, there would never be agreement or peace or cooperation between them. In the end, he hadn’t been willing to subject his son to the inevitable battles, the simmering resentments. Giving up Shane was probably the single most unselfish act of his life. And not a day went by that he didn’t regret it.

His own grief and pain had been lessened somewhat by the knowledge that Kit’s new husband was a kind, decent man, who already had two boys of his own. Steve Davis kept regular hours, not the erratic, unpredictable schedule of a private eye. He would give Shane the time, the love and the whole family that the boy deserved.

Dylan tried never to look back, but there were too many days and twice as many nights when that was impossible. It had been more than four years now and he still ached for his boy. He wondered how tall he was, if he still had the same cowlick in his hair, if he was athletic, if he remembered his real daddy at all. That’s when the regrets would start to add up and he’d turn up in Los Pin˜os, his mood bleak, his soul weary.

Trish intuitively understood what brought him there and over time, Dylan had revealed some of it to Hardy. He withstood their pitying looks, accepted their love and their concern. But with little Laura, there was only the sunshine of her brilliant smile and the joy of her laughter. He could be a hero, instead of the dad who’d walked away.

“Unca Dyl,” she squealed when she saw him climb out of his rugged sports utility vehicle on a dreary Friday night. Arms outstretched, she pumped her little legs so fast, she almost tripped over her own feet trying to get to him.

Dylan scooped her up and into the air above his head until she chortled with glee. He brought her down to peer into her laughing blue eyes that were so like her mama’s. He’d been nine when Trish was born and he could still remember the way she, too, had looked up at him as if he were ten feet tall.

“Munchkin, I think you’re destined to be a pilot or an astronaut,” he declared. “You have absolutely no fear of heights.”

Laura giggled and gestured until he lifted her high again, then swung her low in a stomach-sinking dip.

“Still making career choices for her, I see,” Trish said, stepping off the porch to join them. “For a man who refused to let anyone tell him what he should grow up to be, you seem intent on controlling your niece’s destiny.”

“Not controlling it,” Dylan insisted. “Just listing a few of her options.” He dropped a kiss on his sister’s cheek. “Thanks for letting me come.”

Instantly, sympathy filled her eyes. “I know it’s a tough weekend. Shane will be six tomorrow, right?”

Dylan nodded. “I don’t want to talk about it, though.”

Trish sighed. “You never do. Dylan, don’t you think—”

“I’m not going to get in touch with him,” he said fiercely. “I made a deal with Kit and Steve. I intend to stick to it. If the time ever comes when Shane wants to know me, she’ll help him find me. Until then, I have to forget about him.”

“I don’t know how you can live with that,” she whispered, touching his cheek. “I know you think it was the right thing to do, but—”

“It was the only thing to do. Now can we drop it, please? I could have stayed home and listened to Mother, if I’d wanted to go over this again. Goodness knows, she never lets me forget how I’d deprived her of getting to know her first grandchild.”

Trish looked as if she might argue, then sighed. “Done. I hope you’re hungry, though. Hardy’s out back making hamburgers on the grill. It’s his night to cook and if it can’t be done on a grill, we don’t eat.”

Over the weekend, Dylan fell into the easy rhythms of his sister’s family, grateful to be able to push the memories away for a few days at least. When Sunday rolled around, he still wasn’t ready to go back to Houston and face real life. None of the cases on his desk were challenging. Just routine skip-traces, a straying husband, an amateur attempt at insurance fraud. He could wrap any one of them up in less than a day, which was one of the reasons he’d been so desperate to get away. Tackling them wouldn’t have crowded out his misery.

“Stay one more night,” Trish begged.

He figured she’d sensed his reluctance to go. His baby sister had always been able to read him like a book, better than any of the younger brothers who’d come between them. Fiercely loyal and kindhearted, the male Delacourts taunted each other and banded together against the outside world. But as tight-knit as they were, none of his brothers dared to bulldoze through his defenses the way Trish did.

“Yeah,” Hardy agreed, picking up on some unspoken signal from his wife. “Stick around. You can get the tile up in the second bathroom. Trish says I don’t have the patience to do it right.”

“And I do?” Dylan said, amused by their ploy to make him feel that his continued presence wasn’t an intrusion. Crediting him with more patience than anyone was a real stretch.

“Trust me,” Trish said. “You’re bound to have more than my husband. He keeps getting distracted.”

Hardy grinned. “Because I happen to have a very sexy new wife.”

Sometimes witnessing their happiness was more painful than going back to his lonely existence in Houston, but tonight there was no contest. Anything was better than going home.

Dylan held up his hands. “Okay, okay, no details, please. You two may be married, but she’s still my baby sister. I’ll stay.”

“Good,” Trish said, beaming, clearly pleased with herself.

That night, just as they were finishing supper, the phone rang. Because he was closest, Dylan grabbed it.

“Oh, Dylan, is that you?” a vaguely familiar voice demanded.

Dylan tensed, alerted by the tone to trouble. “Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s Lizzy. Lizzy Adams. I’m the doctor who treated Trish after Laura was born. We met at Trish’s wedding.”

He recalled a slender, dark-haired woman who’d radiated confidence. She didn’t sound so sure of herself now. “Of course. You want to talk to Trish. She’s right here.”

“No, no. It’s you I need to speak to.”

“Oh?”

“You’re a private detective, right?”

“Yes.” He slid into professional mode, finally grasping that what he was hearing in her voice was a thread of panic she was trying hard to hide. “What’s going on?”

“My friend, the doctor who works with me at the clinic, Kelsey James…have you met her?”

Although he’d met dozens of people at the wedding and on subsequent visits, no image came to mind. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, it’s about her little boy, Bobby. Something’s happened.”

Dylan’s heart began to thud dully. Something told him he didn’t want to know the rest, but he forced himself to ask anyway. “What about him?”

“He’s disappeared. She thinks he’s been kidnapped. Can you come, Dylan? Can you come right away?”

“Just tell me where,” he said grimly, beckoning for paper and pencil. As soon as he had them, he jotted down the directions. “Have you talked to the police?”

“Justin’s here now,” she said, referring to her nephew who also happened to be the local sheriff. “He needs help, though. Kelsey wants this kept quiet. She won’t let him call in the FBI or anyone else from outside.”

The knee-jerk reaction of a panicked parent—or something more? “Why?” he asked.

“Let her explain. Just come. Please.”

“I’m on my way.”

“What?” Trish demanded, already standing as he reached for his jacket. “Why did Lizzy call you? What’s happened?”

“It’s about somebody named Kelsey. Her little boy’s disappeared.”

“Oh, no,” Trish whispered, suddenly glancing at Laura as if to reassure herself that her daughter was right where she belonged. She regarded him worriedly. “Dylan, I don’t know about this. Are you sure this is something you should get involved in? I know you’re the best and I adore Kelsey and Bobby, but won’t this be too hard?”

“I can’t just turn my back,” he said, wondering what the look Trish exchanged with Hardy was all about. “You obviously know this Kelsey person. Is there something more that I should know?”

“No,” Trish insisted.

She said it without looking at him, which sure as anything meant she was covering up something. Trish had never been able to lie worth a hoot.

“Trish?”

“Just go.”

He thought Hardy looked every bit as guilty as his sister, but he didn’t have time to try to find out what they were hiding. If he didn’t like the answers he got from Kelsey James, he’d come back here for the missing pieces.

“I’ll try to call,” he said, “but don’t wait up for me.”

“If you need people for a search, call me,” Hardy said. “I can get all the men from White Pines to help out.”

“Thanks. Let’s see what’s going on first.”

If he had been anyplace other than Los Pin˜os, Dylan would have called one of his buddies to take over right this second, because Trish was right—searching for missing kids tore him up inside. But there weren’t a lot of private detectives nearby and time was critical in a situation like this. He had no choice. All he could do was pray that this disappearance would have a happy ending.

Kelsey felt as if someone had ripped out her heart. Anyone who’d been through med school and worked in an emergency room was used to terrible stress and was able to think clearly in a crisis. Despite all that training, though, she hadn’t been able to form a coherent thought since the moment when she’d realized that Bobby was no longer playing in the backyard where she’d left him.

She had simply stood staring blankly at the open gate, frozen, until adrenaline kicked in. Then she had raced to the street, pounded frantically on doors, trailed by bewildered, helpful neighbors as she’d searched futilely for her son. Although plenty of people were outside on such a sunny summer day, no one had seen him leave the yard. No one had seen him toddling down the street. A child Bobby’s age, alone, would have drawn attention.

She had no idea how long it had been—minutes, an hour—before she concluded that Bobby hadn’t simply wandered away. By then both Justin and Lizzy had arrived, alerted by the neighbors. Justin had taken charge automatically, asking crisp, concise questions, organizing a search and leaving Lizzy to sit with her and try to keep her calm, when she wanted to be out searching herself.

With neighbors crowded around wanting to help, talking in hushed voices, Kelsey didn’t feel calm, not after three cups of chamomile tea, not after the mild tranquilizer her friend had insisted she take. She wasn’t sure she would ever be calm again, not until she had her baby back in her arms. This was her worst nightmare coming true. It didn’t matter that no one had seen a stranger on the street. She knew what had happened. She knew who had taken Bobby. And why.

“It’s Paul,” she whispered finally, forcing herself to say aloud what had been tormenting her from the moment she’d realized Bobby was gone. “He’s taken him. I know he has.”

“You’re probably right,” Lizzy said, her tone soothing, as if she still feared that Kelsey would shatter at any second. “And I know you hate the man’s guts, but isn’t that better than a stranger? Paul won’t hurt Bobby. Despite what a louse I think he is, I know he loved Bobby. He just wants money or drugs and Bobby’s his bargaining chip. I think you can count on him being in touch. He’s not going to run with him. He’ll bring Bobby back the minute he gets what he wants.”

“If he’s desperate, who knows what he’ll do?” Kelsey countered, shuddering.

This wasn’t the old Paul, the one she’d fallen in love with. That Paul had been brilliant and driven and passionate. He had loved her in a way she’d never expected to be loved, charming her, convincing her in the end that he couldn’t live without her, that they shouldn’t wait till she finished med school or her residency to marry. It was ironic, really, that she’d struggled with the thought of marrying, just as Lizzy had, had finally rationalized that if Lizzy and Hank could juggle everything and make it work, so could she and Paul.

She couldn’t exactly pinpoint when Paul had changed. Maybe he hadn’t, not really. Maybe the drive she’d so admired in him at first had always been an obsessive need to win, to get what he wanted when he wanted it. He’d gotten her. He’d gotten the perfect job at the right brokerage house, then slaved to be the top broker, the quickest to earn a promotion. He’d convinced her to have a baby, even when she’d been so sure it was too soon, that their schedules were too demanding.

“We have the money. We can afford help,” he’d reasoned. “I want a family, while we’re still young.”

Now, always now. But she had gone along, because he had wanted it so much and she had wanted to please him. When Bobby came, every doubt she had had vanished. He was perfect. Paul was ecstatic and more driven than ever. Their son was going to have the best of everything.

“We have enough,” she had told him more than once. But it was never enough for Paul, not for a kid whose family had struggled while he was growing up. He told her again and again that he knew the real meaning of adversity and he was determined that his wife and son would never catch so much as a glimpse of it. “Not as long as I’m able to bring in the big bucks just by putting in some long hours.”

Then he had taken a nasty spill on a ski trip and fractured his wrist. It should have been little more than a minor inconvenience, but she knew now that that was when his addiction began. He’d taken the painkillers so he wouldn’t have to slow down for so much as a second. He hadn’t wanted to miss making a single commission. He’d never stopped.

She had cursed herself a thousand times for not realizing he was hooked. She was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. She should have caught the signs, but she was too busy herself. In her own way, she was every bit as much of an overachiever as Paul.

Then there was a traffic accident. Paul’s injuries were minor, the other driver’s only slightly worse, but the routine bloodwork the police insisted on had revealed a high level of painkillers in his system. Confronted, he’d promised to stop taking them.

Shaken to the core, Kelsey had searched the house, found every last pill herself and flushed them all down the toilet. She had warned Paul to get help or lose her. She had wanted desperately to believe that he loved her and Bobby enough to quit.

A month later, she’d realized that her prescription pad was missing. Suspicious, she had made calls to half a dozen pharmacies, verified that her husband had gotten pills at every one of them and at who knew how many more. He had forged her signature on every prescription.

She had seen a lawyer that same day and had the divorce and custody papers drawn up. It was a drastic course of action, but she hadn’t known what else to do. She had prayed that maybe the sight of the divorce papers would shock him into getting help. It hadn’t. He’d simply taken more pills and blamed her for backing him into a corner.

She had known then that she couldn’t let him ruin their lives, destroy her reputation. That night she had made a shaken and contrite Paul sign the papers. A week later, she’d moved to Texas, praying that he really would get the help he needed.

Now this. God help her, but she would kill him if he did anything to hurt her baby.

“We have to find him,” she whispered.

“Which is why I called Dylan,” Lizzy soothed. “He’ll find him. Trish says he’s the best private eye in Houston. Unlike Justin, he’s probably handled cases like this a zillion times. He’ll be fast and discreet.”

“Where is he?” Kelsey whispered, her desperation mounting with every second that passed. Unless he’d spent it all on pills, Paul had plenty of money, enough to run to the ends of the earth. She might never find him or her baby.

“Shouldn’t he be here by now?” she asked, edgy with impatience and ever-growing fear.

Lizzy glanced toward the doorway just then and smiled. “Here he is right now.” She stood up, offering her seat opposite Kelsey at the kitchen table. “Dylan, this is Bobby’s mom, Kelsey James. Doctor Kelsey James.”

Kelsey felt her ice-cold hand being enveloped in a strong, reassuring grip. His size registered, too. He was a big man. Solid, with coal-black hair and a grim expression. She focused on his eyes, blue eyes that were clearly taking in everything. She had the feeling that his gaze missed nothing, that he could leave the room and describe every person, every item in it. At the same time there was a distance there, a cool detachment. Funny how she found that reassuring. He was a professional, she reminded herself, just what she needed. The best. He would find Bobby and bring him back. That was all that mattered.

“Tell me what happened,” he suggested in a voice that was surprisingly gentle. He sounded almost as if he truly understood her pain. “Tell me exactly what you did, beginning with the moment you realized your boy was gone. Where was he? How long had he been out of your sight?”

“I’ve already told Justin everything,” she said, not sure she could handle going over it again. It seemed surreal, as if she hadn’t lived through it at all.

“Tell me,” he said insistently. “I might catch something that Justin missed. Or you might remember something else. Every little detail is important.”

He listened intently as Kelsey described everything that had happened, but when she mentioned Paul, something in his attentive expression changed. That disturbing coolness she’d noticed before subtly shifted into what she could only describe as icy disdain. He gazed at her with such piercing intensity that she shivered.

“You have full custody of your son?” he asked, as if it were some sort of crime.

She nodded, unsure why that seemed to unsettle him so.

“When was the last time the father saw him?” he asked, an inexplicable edge in his voice.

“Before we left Miami, about ten months ago. That was our agreement,” she said, not explaining about the other part of that agreement, about her promise not to turn Paul in to the authorities. No one except Lizzy knew about that and no one ever would.

“You believe this was an abduction by a noncustodial parent,” he said, summing up what she’d told him.

“I’m sure of it.”

“Has he threatened to take Bobby before?”

“No, but—”

“Then why are you so certain?”

“I just am. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Bobby wouldn’t go off with a stranger, not without raising a fuss. Besides, I don’t have enemies. I don’t make a lot of money, so a demand for ransom’s hardly likely. If someone wanted money in this town, they’d take an Adams.”

He nodded. He might be an outsider here, just as she was, but he obviously knew who had the power and the fortune.

“You haven’t treated any kids who didn’t make it, whose parents might blame you?” he asked.

“No. Not since Miami.” There had been a few inconsolable parents back then who’d wanted to cast blame on someone, anyone, and she’d been the easiest target. “People who lose a child aren’t always thinking clearly, but there were no malpractice suits. I doubt any of them would pursue me to Texas.”

“Okay, then, let’s assume it’s your ex. Have you got a picture of him? And I’ll need one of Bobby, too. The most recent one you have.”

Relief flooded through her at his concrete suggestions. At last, something she could do. She went for the photo albums she kept in the living room, took out the most recent picture of Paul, then another of Bobby from his birthday party just a few weeks earlier. Ironically, the latest one she had of Paul had been taken on that ill-fated ski trip that had started his downward spiral.

“You’re going to help?” she asked as she handed the pictures to Dylan.

The question had been rhetorical, but for a moment she actually thought he might refuse. His expression was grim. He looked as if he wanted to say no. In fact, the word seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, but with Lizzy and others looking on expectantly, he finally sighed heavily.

“I’ll help,” he said at last.

After he’d gone, Kelsey kept telling herself that was a good thing, that she could count on this man, because Lizzy had said she could. But in her heart she kept wondering about that tiny hint of reluctance. It had something to do with her custody agreement with Paul. She was sure of it. Until she had mentioned that, Dylan Delacourt had been on her side. Now she couldn’t help wondering if he was really on hers…or on Paul’s.

Chapter Two

Dylan wasn’t sure which had unsettled him more, gazing into Kelsey James’s worried green eyes and feeling her fear, or discovering that she had sole custody of her son, that she had taken the boy away from his natural father. The former drew him to her, made him sympathetic. The latter made him want to withdraw from the case before he even got started.

He couldn’t help making possibly faulty and unfair comparisons to his own situation. He instinctively lumped Kelsey in with Kit, assuming she too had backed a man into a desperate corner that had cost him his son. All of his own bitterness and resentment came surging back with a new focus: a slim, frightened mother who probably deserved better from him.

In the end, reason—and obligation to the Adamses for their past kindnesses to his sister—won out. There was also the slim chance that Bobby could have been taken by someone other than his father. Until he knew for certain that Bobby was not in real danger, Dylan knew he had no choice. He had to take the case.

Of course, if he hadn’t been persuaded by duty, there was the picture of Bobby, a robust little boy with an endearing grin. He couldn’t help comparing him to Shane, wondering if his son was as healthy and happy as Bobby appeared to be in the picture. No matter what, Dylan knew he couldn’t risk any harm coming to the child because his own personal demons kept him from pitching in to find him. With any luck they would locate Bobby quickly, Dylan’s duty would be done, and he wouldn’t have to spend much time around Kelsey James.

Eager to get away from her and to get started, he muttered an inane reassurance that neither of them believed, then left the crowded kitchen and went off in search of Justin Adams.

Justin might be a small-town sheriff, but he was smart and dedicated. He would have covered all the necessary bases and Dylan saw no need for them to duplicate efforts. Hopefully Justin would feel the same way, rather than going territorial on him the way a lot of cops did when faced with a private eye on their turf.

He found Justin outside by his patrol car, talking to his dispatcher over the radio. He signaled a greeting to Dylan.

“I want every last man on this, okay? Forget the shift roster and call them all in.”

“Got it,” the dispatcher said. “Want me to start calling motels? It could save time.”

“Do it, Becky,” Justin agreed. “Start with the immediate county, then widen it county by county. And make sure I can read your damn notes for once, okay?”

“There is nothing wrong with my handwriting,” she responded tartly. “At least I take notes, unlike some people I could name.”

Dylan would have smiled at the obviously familiar bickering if the circumstances had been different.

Justin sighed as he signed off. “The blasted woman’s known me too long. She thinks she’s the boss, even though I’m the one with the badge.” He studied Dylan. “Lizzy called you, right? I figured she would.”

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Absolutely not. I can use all the manpower around on this, especially if you’ve got experience. Except for old Mr. Elliott, who wanders away from home and gets lost since his Alzheimer’s has gotten worse, and the occasional missing dog, this is not something I’m used to handling. I’d be a whole lot more comfortable calling in the FBI, but Kelsey got so upset when I mentioned it, I backed off.”

“Any idea what she’s afraid of?”

Justin shook his head. “I’d be willing to bet Lizzy knows, though. One year as roommates in med school, and the two of them have been thick as thieves ever since. If we don’t catch a break soon, I’ll pound it out of her, if I have to. Figuratively, of course.”

Sensing his frustration and sharing it, Dylan grinned. “I’ll help. Do you know anything about Paul James?”

“Only that Kelsey wanted to get away from him badly enough that she gave up a promising career in Miami to move here. It came up suddenly, despite Lizzy’s pretense that they’d always talked about working together. One minute Lizzy was running the clinic by herself, the next Kelsey was here and living out at my grandfather’s. Grandpa Harlan seemed real reluctant to let her and Bobby leave to move here in town, and I sensed it wasn’t just because he’d grown attached to them. He had me check the security locks on this place top to bottom.”

“Domestic violence?” Dylan speculated.

Justin shrugged. “Always a possibility, but my gut tells me no. A few years back when Patsy turned up here in town, she was running from an abusive husband. I don’t see the same signs with Kelsey. She’s at ease around men, for one thing.”

“Patsy’s your wife, right?” Dylan asked, trying to recall what he had heard about her situation. Just that she’d run from a husband who’d been a high-profile political candidate in another state, a man who had had a nasty temper. Bottom line, Justin would know better than most about how a victim of abuse would behave.

“Right. She had a little boy when we met and we have another one of our own now. She’s at home with them, in a panic that something will happen to them if she turns her back for a second. Until we know for sure that Paul James is behind this, there will be a lot of other mothers who feel the same way. I’d like people to know as soon as we’re sure that there’s no need to lock the kids inside and bar their doors.”

“Can’t say I blame them, in the meantime,” Dylan said. “How about I start running checks on Paul James? Maybe we can pick up a trail from credit-card receipts, see if he’s in the area.”

“Go for it,” Justin agreed. “If you need access to a computer, use the one down at the station. I’ll deputize you here and now to make it all nice and legal.”

That was more than Dylan had hoped for. Normally, he preferred to operate on his own, but in this instance he was far from his own computer and other resources. A little hand-in-hand cooperation with the local authorities could cut through a lot of red tape. Having access to that computer would be a godsend. Besides, Justin struck him as a good man to work with. The past few minutes had established that he wasn’t a hardliner with an attitude. He was the kind of sheriff Dylan admired, a man who just wanted to get the job done, utilizing whatever resources he could command.

“I’ll let you know what I find out,” he promised.

“I’m not worried about that,” Justin told him. “Nothing gets past my dispatcher. Becky will be all over you while you’re around. If you find so much as an itty-bitty clue, I’ll know about it.”

Dylan chuckled, liking the man more and more. “I should have known you weren’t just trying to make my life easy.”

Justin’s expression sobered. “Nope. Just trying to find that little boy before any harm comes to him.”

“Amen to that,” Dylan said.

Unable to sit still a moment longer, Kelsey wandered into the living room and stared out the window at the two men talking on the sidewalk.

Over the last few months she had gotten to know Justin Adams. She trusted him, but she also knew that Bobby’s disappearance was not the sort of thing he typically had to handle. She’d seen how upset he’d been by her refusal to call in the FBI. Maybe she was crazy, but she thought the fewer police involved, the better the chances of keeping Paul’s secret and keeping Bobby safe. Watching Justin talk to Dylan, she could almost sense his relief at having someone with more expertise involved. She wished she was as confident.

She studied the private investigator, trying to overcome this fear that kept nagging at her. Once again, she was struck by his size. He was taller than Justin by a good three inches, putting him at six-three or so. He was broader through the shoulders as well. An ex-football hero, she was willing to bet. He moved with the ease of an athlete. None of that mattered, though. All she cared about was whether he could find her son.

She sensed Lizzy coming to stand beside her. Her friend hadn’t strayed far from her side since this nightmare had begun. “Looks like they’re comparing notes,” Kelsey said. “They’re probably wondering how I let something like this happen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should have watched him more closely. He shouldn’t have been outside alone.”

“He’s a little boy, not a prisoner. He was in your own backyard. Maybe he wandered out front,” Lizzy consoled her. “It only takes a second and if someone is watching, waiting for that to happen, there’s not a thing you could do to prevent it.”

“I should have—”

“Should-haves will make you crazy,” Lizzy advised. “You’re a wonderful mother. I won’t listen to anyone—including you—who says otherwise.”

Kelsey mustered a faint smile at Lizzy’s fiercely protective tone.

“Why aren’t they doing something?” she asked plaintively. “They’re just standing around talking.”

“Planning, coordinating,” Lizzy corrected. “In the long run, it will save time.”

Kelsey sighed, her gaze once again settling on the private investigator. “I don’t think Dylan liked me much. He was so, I don’t know, cold, I guess. At first I thought he was being professional, just trying to calm me down by seeming competent and practical, but now I’m not sure.”

“Dylan liked you just fine,” Lizzy reassured her. “I was there. He was just trying to get a fix on things.”

Before Kelsey could debate her assessment, the phone rang, startling them both. Kelsey all but dived for it. “Hello,” she shouted, then forced herself to quiet down. “Who is this?”

“Mommy?” a tentative little voice whispered.

Oh, sweet heaven, it was Bobby. She clutched the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Sweetie, is that you?”

“Hi, Mommy.”

“Oh, baby,” she whispered. Her knees went weak and she sank into a chair. She was dimly aware of Lizzy racing to the front door and shouting for Justin and Dylan. “Where are you, Bobby?”

“He’s with me, of course,” Paul said, interrupting.

Hearing his voice confirmed every one of her fears. He sounded as if he were on the edge. Too many pills? she wondered. Or not enough?

“Paul, please, bring him home. We’ll forget this happened.”

“Not just yet.”

“Tell me what you want. I’ll do anything. Just bring Bobby back. I know you didn’t do this just because you missed him and wanted to spend time with him. If that had been the case, you’d have called.”

“And begged? Is that what you want, Kelsey?”

“No,” she said honestly. She wanted him to stay away, but he was back in her life for the moment, for better or for worse. “Paul, what is this about? What do you want?”

The only response was the quiet click of a receiver being put back into place. Kelsey stared at the silent phone in shock. He had hung up on her. She didn’t know any more than she had before.

No, she told herself staunchly, that wasn’t true. She knew for sure now that Paul had their son. She knew that Bobby was okay, at least for the moment.

For the moment. The phrase twisted and turned in her thoughts, terrifying her. What about a moment from now? Or an hour? Then, to her chagrin, she burst into tears, gulping sobs erupting from deep inside. All the pent-up emotion of the past couple of hours came pouring out.

As if from a great distance, she could hear Lizzy murmuring to her. She was dimly aware of Justin barking orders into the phone. And then of a dip in the sofa as someone’s weight settled next to her. For the second time that day, her hand was enveloped in Dylan Delacourt’s. She recognized his touch, clung to him, because he was solid and reassuring and he was here.

“Talk to me,” he commanded.

He tipped her chin up until she was forced to face him, forced to choke back another sob that threatened. He dug a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and silently handed it to her, then waited a minute until she was calmer.

“That was your ex?” he asked then.

She managed to nod. “Bobby first, then Paul.”

“Good. Then we know what we’re dealing with, who we’re looking for. We know it wasn’t a random act by a dangerous stranger, just a dad wanting to see his child.”

She blinked back a fresh batch of tears. “That is good, isn’t it?” she echoed, desperate for hope. Then she considered the rest of what he’d said, the faint note of sympathy in his voice. She didn’t dare tell him he was wrong, that this wasn’t about Paul’s love for Bobby at all.

“The best news we’ve had all evening,” he confirmed, giving her hand a squeeze. “We can narrow the search down from the get-go. It’s a good sign, too, that he’s willing to communicate with you, rather than simply disappearing with his son. We’ll get a tap on the phone. Justin’s already got an expert on the way. We can trace the next call, if you can keep him on the line.”

Kelsey recalled Paul’s abrupt hangup. She sensed it had been more than an attempt to keep her from asking more questions, from demanding to speak with Bobby again. “How long?” she asked. “I think he knows he can’t stay on the line very long. That’s probably why he hung up on me just now.”

“You’ll do the best you can,” Dylan told her. “Sooner or later, he’ll make a mistake.”

That’s it? Kelsey wanted to shout. They were going to wait for Paul to make a mistake? Didn’t they know that Paul didn’t make mistakes? He was the champion of doing every last thing right.

Except for the pills, of course. She had caught him at that. She consoled herself with the memory. He was only human. He could slip up. She realized that Dylan was studying her intently with those deep blue eyes of his. They’d gone almost navy in the fading light and once more they were quietly assessing her, leaving her more shaken than she had been. She had a feeling he was doing it deliberately to unnerve her.

“What?” he asked eventually. “What aren’t you telling us, Kelsey?”

“Nothing,” she insisted, aware of the hint of defiance in her voice. “I’ve told you everything.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, to not look away. “I can’t help that.”

“You want your son back, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then you have to tell us the truth.”

“I am, dammit.”

“The whole truth,” he added with emphasis.

“I am,” she said again, but without the same vehemence.

Naturally Dylan didn’t miss the difference. She could see it in his eyes. He knew she was lying.

What if she told him about the pills? She almost did, then caught herself. For if Paul found out she had broken her promise and told anyone, who knew what he would do? It wouldn’t matter to him that he had broken their agreement first by coming after Bobby. No, she reassured herself again, she had to keep silent, for all their sakes.

Dylan wanted to shake the whole truth out of Kelsey James. She was obviously a bright woman. She had to know that forcing him and Justin to operate blindly just made everything twice as difficult as it needed to be.

The noise level in the living room climbed as neighbors discussed the call that had just come in. He saw Kelsey’s gaze seek out Lizzy, probably for moral support, and realized he needed to get her alone, just the two of them. He had to find a way to gain her confidence, so that she would trust him with the whole truth.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Where?” she demanded, balking.

He latched on to her hand and urged her back in the kitchen, then shooed everyone else out and shut the door. Kelsey looked as if she might protest, but then she sighed and sank onto a chair and accepted the cup of tea he handed her. She sipped automatically and stared warily at him over the rim of the cup, as if she sensed his displeasure. Dylan concluded that she was terrified enough without him coming down on her as hard as he wanted to. Tact wasn’t his long suit, but maybe it was worth a try.

He turned a chair around and straddled it, took out a notebook and pen. “Okay, let’s try this another way. Tell me about your ex.”

She blinked rapidly, then studied her cup of tea as if it were the most important thing in her universe.

Dylan’s short supply of patience was dwindling. “Kelsey, help me out here. I need to get a fix on this guy, get into his head.”

“I know. It’s just…” She shook her head. “I don’t know where to start.”

He bought her confusion. He sensed she really was struggling to sort through the information and put some order to it. He didn’t need order. He needed raw facts. Still, he kept his tone mild as he suggested, “How about the beginning? Where did you meet? How long did you know him before you got married?”

She closed her eyes for a minute, as if the memories were painful. “He was a stockbroker,” she began finally.

“Which firm?”

She named one of the biggest.

“Still there?”

“As far as I know.”

He made a note, then nodded. “Go on.”

“One of Paul’s clients was a doctor at the hospital where I was in med school. We were just finishing rounds when he came in for an appointment to go over the man’s portfolio. The doctor got called away on an emergency so he asked me to take Paul to the cafeteria and keep him company until he could get there.” She regarded him wearily. “How is this helping? It’s ancient history.”

“Trust me. It will. So, was it love at first sight?” Dylan asked.

“Hardly,” she said with a touch of wry humor. “I thought he was way too full of himself. A lot like you, in fact.”

Dylan shrugged off the jibe. It wasn’t the only thing he and Paul James had in common. He wondered how she would feel if she knew the truth about that.

“And?” he prodded.

“I never thought he would look twice at me.”

“Why?” Dylan asked, genuinely incredulous at the suggestion that she wouldn’t catch a man’s attention.

“Let’s just say I was a very bookish student. I didn’t spend a lot of time with my appearance. He was very slick, very handsome, the ultimate yuppie. When I was studying, I was lucky to remember to put on lipstick and matching socks before I went out the door.”

Dylan tried to reconcile the image she was painting with the woman seated across from him. He couldn’t. Even in her shorts and T-shirt, her feet in sandals, she radiated both inner beauty and confidence. Her hair framed her face with the sort of tousled curls a man’s fingers just itched to untangle. She had a scattering of freckles across her nose, but otherwise her complexion was near perfect. And those eyes—a man could sink in their glittering sea-green depths and go down for the third time happy. A sudden rush of heat told him he needed to avoid spending too much time gazing into those eyes.

“If you two were such a mismatch, how did you wind up together?”

“I don’t know,” she said with apparent bemusement. “Somehow we just clicked. Not overnight. It took a few weeks, but suddenly everything changed. Then things moved very quickly. We got married, moved into an old Coral Gables house that had great history and lousy plumbing and then Bobby came along. I was doing my residency in pediatrics by then.”

“Sounds stressful. Was your husband a big help around the house?”

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Paul? You have to be kidding. The only thing he did was hire a nanny, then race off to the office. I don’t know what you know about being a resident in a trauma center, but the hours are hell. Paul’s were worse. Into the office before the market opened to get a jump on things, out with clients after Wall Street closed to celebrate the victories or solidify the relationship.”

Dylan thought back to Kit’s complaints about his work habits. More than once, she had accused him of being an absent husband and father. It sounded as if in the James marriage the two of them had shared the blame.

As if she sensed his disapproval, Kelsey said, “We did the best we could.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” he said perfectly aware of the note of sarcasm that had crept into his voice.

Bright patches of color flamed in her cheeks. “You don’t approve of me, do you, Mr. Delacourt?”

Dylan was surprised that she had called him on it. So the lady had a temper, after all. And good instincts. Maybe that could work to his advantage. He’d rather have her fighting mad than docile and defeated. He deliberately shrugged. “It’s not my job to judge you,” he said, careful to imply that he did just the same. “All I care about is finding Bobby.”

After an instant’s hesitation, she nodded. “Good. Then we can agree on that, at least.”

He bit back his amusement at the tart tone. “You don’t approve of me, either, do you, doctor?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t care what sort of foul-tempered beast you are. All I care about are results. You find my son and you will earn my undying devotion.”

Dylan studied her thoughtfully. “Now there’s a thought to make a man’s heart go pitter-patter.”

“Anything to motivate you,” she retorted just as dryly.

For the first time in what had been a very grim couple of hours, Dylan actually found something to laugh about.

“You and I are going to make a helluva team, doc.”

Startled, she stared. “A team?”

He nodded. “From now on, you and I are going to stick together like glue.”

It was the only way he could think of to be sure she didn’t do something crazy to get her son back.

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