Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (53 page)

She climbed the loft and kicked down a couple of bales, only to hear the barn door open. “Chandra?” Dallas asked, and the horses swung their attention toward the noise.

“Up here.” She hopped down and pulled out her knife, slashing the twine as Dallas grabbed a pitchfork and began scooping hay into the manger.

“I thought maybe you'd run out on me,” he said, his eyes dark in the barn. “I figured you might have come down with a case of cold feet.”

No reason to lie. “Second thoughts.”

Dallas threw another forkful into Max's manger, and his shoulders moved effortlessly beneath his shirt. Chandra's throat went dry at the thought of touching his arms and running her fingers along the ridge of his spine.

“You don't have to go through with it, you know.”

“I just don't want to make a mistake.” She found the grain barrel, scooped up oats with an old coffee can and began pouring the grain along the trough.

“It's your decision, Chandra,” he said slowly.

“Doubts, Doctor?” she accused as she patted Cayenne's head. The sorrel gelding tossed his mane and dug his nose into the grain.

Dallas lifted a shoulder. “It's one thing to be spontaneous, but I'm not sure we really thought this out last night.” As Chandra walked past him toward the grain barrel again, he touched her lightly on the shoulder, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Believe it or not, I think we can make this work, but it is a little premature. So let's take things a little slower—one step at a time. Then if either party changes his or her mind, no big deal. We'll call the whole thing off.”

Relief surged through her, and it must have been evident in her face, because he laughed.

“You know, Ms. Hill, this was your idea. I'd be satisfied with a hot and heavy affair.”

Her cheeks burned hotly. “But that wouldn't help J.D.”

A hint of a darker emotion flickered in his eyes, and his mouth tightened slightly. He dropped his hand and started shoving the rest of the hay into the manger. As he hung the pitchfork on the wall, he spotted a mousetrap, tripped, without a victim. “You need a cat,” he observed.

“You have one?”

He shook his head. “Animals complicate life.”

“So how're you going to deal with a wife and child?”

“And a dog and a small herd of horses,” he added, resetting the trap and placing a piece of grain on the trip. “That's the hundred-thousand-dollar question, isn't it? Too bad I don't have any answer. What about you, Ms. Hill, how're you going to deal with a husband and a child?”

“The child will be easy,” she predicted, his good mood
infectious. She couldn't help teasing him a little. “But that husband—he's gonna be trouble. I can feel it in my bones.”

His grin widened slowly. “You'd better believe it.” Quick as a cat, he grabbed her and yanked her, squealing and laughing, into his arms. “Somehow, I think you'll find a way,” he whispered, just before his lips crashed down on hers in a kiss that melted her knees.

When he finally lifted his head, he stared long into her eyes. “Yes,” he said, as if answering some questions in his own mind, “this is going to be interesting. Very interesting.” He glanced at his watch and groaned. “We'd better get moving. I've got to be at the hospital by eight. And you've got a wedding to plan.”

Chandra didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

* * *

“Y
OU'RE GETTING MARRIED
?” Roy Arnette's jaw dropped open. “What is this, some kind of joke?” Seated behind his desk, he'd been surprised by her visit, and was even more surprised when she'd told him her intentions.

“No joke, Roy,” she assured him, declining comment on the fact that Dallas, only three hours earlier, had given her an out, should she want one.

“Hell, Chandra, you
can't
just up and marry someone for that kid.”

“Isn't that what you told me to do?”

“But I was
kidding!
” Sitting on his side of his desk, he yanked on his string tie. “You told me you weren't dating anyone.”

“I wasn't.”

“And what—the bridegroom fairy came in, waved a magic wand and, poof, instant husband and father?” Frowning, he pushed an intercom button and ordered coffee from his secretary. “Well, tell me, who's the lucky guy?”

“Dallas O'Rourke.”

“
Doctor
Dallas O'Rourke? You can't be serious! After what happened to you with Doug—he was a doctor, remember? That was part of the problem—so now you're planning to marry an emergency-room physician? Come on!”

“I'm serious,” she insisted. “Look, don't blame yourself. This is my decision.”

“What do you know about the guy?” he asked, shaking his head. “What?”

A soft tap at the door announced the secretary's arrival. With a smile to Chandra, she placed a tray laden with coffee cups, a plastic carafe, a small basket of doughnuts and a folded newspaper on his desk. “Thanks, Betty,” Roy said as the tall woman poured them each a cup of coffee.

Roy offered her a doughnut, but Chandra shook her head and the attorney, too, left the pastries untouched. He took a long sip from his cup and said, “All right, let's start over. When are you getting married?”

“We haven't discussed it yet,” she admitted. “In fact, we haven't exactly ironed out many details. I'm meeting him tonight at the hospital, and he's taking me over to the Newells'.”

“The sheriff? You're going to see the sheriff?”

“J.D. is being released today. The Newells have been granted temporary custody as foster parents.” Chandra reached for her cup and caught a glimpse of the folded newspaper. Her heart did a somersault. “Oh, no,” she said, snatching up the paper and snapping it open. On the front page in big bold letters the headline read, MYSTERY BABY FOUND IN BARN, and near the article were two pictures, one of the barn, the other of her and Dallas, his arm around her shoulder, his mouth pressed close to her ear.

She quickly read the article, which was more informative than the one single-column report that had appeared
the day after the baby was found. She and Dallas were identified, in the caption under the picture, and though nothing was blatantly stated, there was an insinuation that she and he, the woman who had discovered the baby and the physician who had first examined him, were romantically involved. There was a plea, within the text, for the real parents of the child to come forward and claim him.

Her heart wrenched painfully. “No,” she whispered to herself. “Not now!”

“What? Not now what?”

She handed the paper to Roy, and he scowled as he skimmed the article. “Well, this isn't too bad. Fillmore isn't known to be overly kind with his pen, so you'd better consider yourself lucky. At least it isn't a hatchet job, and since you and Dallas are planning to tie the knot, I don't see that there's any real harm done.”

Perhaps not, but Chandra felt as if someone had just placed a curse on her. That was crazy, of course. She wasn't even the kind of woman who believed in curses or voodoo or omens. And yet, her skin crawled as she stared down at the photo of her and Dallas huddled together, consoling each other…and falling in love.

* * *

“B
ASTARD
!” D
ALLAS SLAMMED
the newspaper into the trash basket in the staff lounge, causing more than a few heads to turn and gaze speculatively in his direction. He didn't really give a damn. He didn't blame Fillmore for the article; the baby was news. Big news. But the picture of Chandra and him was hardly necessary.

He'd only been at the hospital half an hour and already he'd noticed a few sidelong glances cast his way, a couple of smirks hidden not quite quickly enough. It had started with Ed Prescott. As Dallas had locked the door of his truck in the parking lot, Prescott had wheeled his red Porche into his reserved spot.

“Well, O'Rourke, you old dog,” he'd said as he climbed out of the sporty little car and caught up with Dallas's impatient strides. “You made the front page.”

“What?” Dallas hadn't seen the paper yet as the weekly
Banner
was usually delivered by mail.

“Haven't you seen it?” Laughter had danced in Prescott's keen eyes. “Here, take my copy!” He'd slapped the newspaper into Dallas's hands and walked briskly toward the building. Prescott's chortling laughter had trailed back to Dallas as he'd opened the folded pages and found his life unraveled in, of all places, the
Banner.

“Stupid idiot son-of-a-bitch,” he growled now, wondering if he were leveling the oath at Prescott or himself. And just wait until Fillmore got wind of the fact that he and Chandra were getting married and hoping to adopt J.D. He'd never hear the end of it!

At the elevator, he waited impatiently, pushing the button several times and opening and closing his fists to relieve some tension. “Come on, come on,” he muttered as the elevator stopped and three young nurses emerged.

They saw him, and nearly as one, tried to smother grins as they mouthed, “Good morning, Doctor.”

It was all he could do to be civil. He climbed in the car and pushed the button for the fourth floor. He'd check his patients in CICU and ICU, then retreat to the emergency room, where he was scheduled for the day. If everything was under control, he'd head up to pediatrics before J.D. was to be released. Then he'd go to his office, return some calls and check his mail. His investigator friend from Denver had called and said a package should arrive—the information about Chandra. Good Lord, what had possessed him to order an investigation?

He wasn't looking forward to scanning the P.I.'s report, and yet, he may as well. After all, he planned to marry the woman; it wouldn't hurt to know what he was in for.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched the numbers of the floors light up. Chandra was so enraptured with little J.D., Dallas was concerned for her. Even if he and she were married, there were no guarantees that they would be chosen as the adoptive parents. What then? Dissolve the marriage? Strike two? “Hell, O'Rourke, you've really got yourself in a mess this time!”

The elevator thudded to a halt and the doors opened. Jane Winthrop, a nurse who usually worked in admitting, was waiting for the car. Pushing a medicine cart, she nearly ran into him. “Oh, Doctor,” she said with a smile. “Excuse me.”

Was there a special gleam in her eye? Of course not. He was just being paranoid. “No problem,” he replied, skirting the cart with the tiny cups of pills arranged neatly on the shiny metal surface.

“I saw your picture in the paper today,” she said, and he jerked his head up to meet her eyes, but found no malice in her gaze. “I sure hope that Chandra Hill gets to adopt that baby. He belongs with her, you know. That's why he was in that barn. It's God's will.”

The doors closed, and Nurse Winthrop, her cart and her wisdom disappeared.

Rubbing the tension building in his neck, Dallas turned toward ICU and knew that it was going to be a long day. He decided to go directly to his office and only stopped by his receptionist's desk to collect his mail.

There it was, along with the letters, advertisements and magazines—a package with a Denver postmark. His heart stopped for just a second, and he felt guilty as hell, but he took the stack of mail and a fresh cup of coffee into his office. He set the coffee on the ink blotter and dropped the correspondence and bills onto the desk, then ripped his letter opener through the package from Denver.

He couldn't believe he was so anxious that his
stomach had begun to knot. There was a computer report, a note from Jay and a few copies of newspaper clippings, mainly of a trial in Tennessee, a malpractice suit brought by the parents of Gordy Shore, a boy who had died while in Chandra's care.

Dallas let his coffee grow cold as he continued to read, and he learned more than he wanted to know about his future wife.

* * *

“A
SHOOT DOWN
the south fork, a trail ride over Phantom Ridge and a day hike along the west bank of the river,” Rick said, eyeing his schedule. He tapped his finger on the last expedition. “Chandra, you can handle the day hike. Randy's got the trail ride, and Jake will take our friends from Boston down the river. All right with you?”

“Fine,” she agreed as Jake and Randy began packing gear for their expeditions.

“Good, then I'll hold down the fort here.”

Chandra eyed the younger men. Jake was tall and strapping with wheat-blond hair, a tan and blue eyes that cut a person right to the quick. Randy was more laid-back, with a moustache, day's growth of beard and red-brown hair a little on the shaggy side. She turned to see Rick staring at her, his expression uncharacteristically serious. These men, who often joked with her, were the only family Chandra had in Ranger.

“Saw your picture in the paper,” Randy said as he tucked trail mix and a couple of candy bars into a backpack. The horses were stabled out of town, so he would meet his clients, drive to the stables and start the ride from that point.

“I hope you're not talkin' 'bout that damned
Banner,
” Rick growled, frowning.

“'Fraid so. Chandra's big news around this town,”
Randy teased. “You and the doctor looked pretty chummy to me.”

“We are,” she said with a shrug.

“And here I thought you'd always had the hots for me, but were just too shy to make the first move.”

“If only I'd known,” she quipped. These men could tease her and needle her because she knew they cared. Once she'd proved herself on the river, they'd both taken on the roles of brothers.

“I just hope O'Rourke knows what a prize he's found,” Jake said forcefully. Jake was always more serious than Randy.

“Dallas O'Rourke?” Rick asked. Still behind the desk, he absently counted out the cash, the “seed money” as he called it, that he kept in the safe at night before replenishing the till each morning.