The Baby Bargain Page 2

  Who was it who had said that you couldn't go home again? He was finding that more true than he cared to admit. He stood, leaving the cat to eat in peace. Moving over to the television, he flipped it on. Only a few more hours till midnight. The people in Times Square were looking smug. After all, they had

  a jump on the rest of the country. They got to shoo the old year out earlier than everyone else.

  Dan snapped off the television and wandered over to the window. The park that lay across the street was dark and full of mysterious shadows. The snow that had fallen just before Christmas lingered only in sheltered places, catching the light here and there, giving the look of a patchwork quilt.

  What was he doing here? Not just here in this apartment but here in Remembrance? There was nothing for him here. After nearly two years in a Central American prison, he'd come home, wanting nothing more than to pick up the threads of his life. It had been foolish of him to think that everyone else's life would have stood still just because his own had been dragged to a halt. People had moved on, changed.

  He'd left, traveled for a couple of months and then somehow found himself back here. This was home. Or it had been all his life. Now it was just the closest thing to a home that he had.

  Restless, he let the curtain fall, turning to look at the sterile apartment. If he moved out tomorrow, there would be nothing here to show that he'd once spent several months of his life here. If he disappeared tomorrow, his absence would leave a gap in no one's life.

  His mother lived in Europe with her new husband, a man half her age who treated her as if she were made of gold. She would miss him but her life would go on.

  And Brittany? Brittany would miss him. The love they'd once felt had changed, not without pain, into something approaching a friendship. Yes, Brittany would be sorry to see him go, but her life was wrapped up in Michael and little Danielle. She had a family, people whose lives were intimately entwined with hers. A husband, a child.

  4 'That's what I want."

  Grunge looked up from the tray, licking gravy off his whiskers. Well fed, he was willing to provide an audience.

  "A family. Is that so much to ask?" Grunge licked one paw and began to wash his face.

  "I suppose you think that's ridiculous." Dan scowled, turn-

  ing away to glare at the blank television screen. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's just the holiday season that's making me crazy."

  Whatever it was, he knew he had to get out of the apartment. If he sat here watching plastic-faced celebrities chortle about the new year, he was going to put his foot through the television.

  His sudden, decisive move to the coat closet startled Grunge who jumped, putting one foot down in the apple cobbler. He hissed his displeasure but Dan wasn't listening. Bud's Tavern might not be the best place in the world to spend New Year's Eve, but it was certainly better than sitting here with nothing but his own company.

  Just for tonight he was going to get out and have fun. Even if it killed him, he was going to have a good time. At least for tonight.

  Chapter 2

  JVelly swallowed and backed farther into the corner she'd found. It seemed as if it was the only space in the entire room that wasn't occupied by people laughing and talking.

  Bud's Tavern wasn't quite what she'd expected Of course, her idea of what she'd find in a "den of iniquity" had been vague. This certainly met some of them. There were lots of people and all of them seemed to be having a roaring good time.

  But her dreams hadn't included the amount of sheer noise that filled the bar. Across the room, a small band blasted music so loud it seemed to preclude conversation, but that didn't stop anyone from talking. They simply raised their voices to be heard above it Kelly didn't see how anyone could hear anything.

  And she'd never anticipated breathing air she could actually see. She'd read the phrase *'smoky barroom" in books but her imagination had never come even close to the reality. Smoke drifting from cigarettes swirled in a cloud near the ceiling, giving the multicolored lights a hazy look. It hovered everywhere, drawing a tattered veil around the edges of the big room.

  Once her eyes had stopped watering and her lungs no longer burned, she was able to ignore the smoke, just as everyone else seemed to. But it was the only thing she had in common with the room's occupants.

  She'd seen right away that her clothes were all wrong. It wasn't that her skirt was too short, as she'd feared. A lot of the other women were wearing short skirts, some even shorter than her own. But they were all narrow, snug little affairs of denim or leather. And they were generally paired with cowboy boots or spike heels and stretchy little T-shirts.

  Kelly eased one foot out of its shoe, flexing her toes to relieve the cramp that was running up her instep. It had taken her nearly fifteen minutes of practice to be able to take more than two or three steps in the thick-soled shoes without falling over. They added nearly two inches to her own height of five foot two, if she could just keep from tipping over.

  "Hey." Kelly looked up, startled, as a tall, willowy blond woman with perfectly chiseled features stopped in front of her. "Where did you get that dress?"

  "It was my mother's," Kelly stammered out and then immediately wished she'd said something else.

  "It's really hot. My mom threw out all her sixties stuff. Can you believe it?" The blonde looked disgusted. Kelly shook her head, trying to look as if she couldn't believe it. "You've done a great job with the makeup and everything."

  "Thank you." Kelly groped for something more to say. After all, this was the first person to speak to her. This was what she'd come here for, wasn't it?

  "Hey, Tiffany." The blonde turned in response to the shout, lifting one perfectly manicured hand. Kelly tucked her own ragged nails behind her back. Tiffany turned back for a last comment. "Great retro look, really."

  Kelly watched her plunge into the mass of people, weaving her way expertly through the crowd. Even from a distance, she exuded the confidence Kelly was so sorely lacking. It was clear that Tiffany was perfectly at home in Bud's Tavern. Whereas Kelly was anything but.

  Still, she'd been nice. For a minute there, she'd almost felt

  as if she wasn't out of place. Retro look? Tiffany had made it sound like a compliment. Was it possible that she looked like she was making some sort of a fashion statement? The thought almost made her smile.

  She fished for her shoe, edging back as one of the waitresses headed toward her comer. One of the first things she'd realized was that one didn't come to a bar without planning on drinking.

  Even if she had known what to order, she didn't have any money. So far no one seemed to be paying any attention to the fact that she wasn't drinking. In fact, no one seemed to be paying any attention to her at all.

  Aside from the brief moment when Tiffany had spoken to her, she might as well have been invisible. Her fantasies had never been quite like this. She'd been a little sketchy on details but she'd certainly never imagined herself feeling so out of place, so invisible. If it wasn't for the fact that she'd been jostled and bumped more times than she could count, she might have begun to wonder if she was even here at all.

  If a girl goes into a bar but nobody sees her, is she really there at all?

  Kelly almost giggled at the absurdity of the question. Her forehead felt clammy and there was a vague buzzing in her ears. She should have eaten more at supper. Her stomach felt hollow. She watched a waitress go by with a tray of drinks and licked her lips, suddenly realizing how thirsty she was. A glass of water sounded like heaven but she didn't dare ask for it, didn't dare risk drawing attention to herself.

  Maybe if she went to the ladies' room, splashed a little water on her face, she'd feel better. But the sign for the rest rooms was all the way across the room. Just the thought of trying to make her way through all those people made her feel dizzy.

  Everywhere she looked, people leaned against walls or stood next to the bar or sat in booths, cm- rocked back and forth on the tiny dance floor. Every
one was laughing and talking, smiling and drinking, apparently having the time of their lives. Everyone was with someone else.

  She had been lonely most of her life but she'd never been quite so aware of being alone. Here, in this crowd of people,

  her aloneness was so obvious, so real. She felt as if she were the only person in the world who didn't have someone to talk with.

  Dan tried to remember what impulse had led him here, to this noisy bar. He'd had some vague thought about getting out among other people being good for him. After all, it was New Year's Eve, a time to celebrate and have fun. So was he having fun yet? he asked himself cynically.

  He picked up the shot glass of whiskey and downed the last swallow. If he remembered correctly, the cat had eaten most of his dinner. Too much alcohol on an empty stomach was not a good idea. He picked up a handful of pretzels from the bowl on the bar and signaled the bartender for a refill.

  Lifting the fresh drink, Dan caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that lined the back of the bar. He lowered the drink slowly, frowning at his reflection in the smoky glass. Was it just his imagination or did he look totally out of place, like an ill-tempered wolf in a group of happy puppies?

  His scowl deepened. He wasn't any older than most of these people. Not in years, at least. But in terms of experience, he felt decades older. Two years in a Central America prison, accused of being a spy, was enough to drum the youth out of almost anyone, he supposed.

  He'd thought that coming back to Remembrance, coming home, he would be able to put those years behind him. He'd been a fool. You couldn't go home, you couldn't go back. All you could do was keep going and hope you found some reason for continuing.

  He turned away from the mirror, downing the shot of whiskey as he leaned back against the bar. What were they all celebrating, anyway? A new year, new problems, new bills. What was to celebrate? A year just past, spent alone. A year coming up, spent the same way. No home, no roots, no one to care all that much what happened to him, no one whose life was intimately tied to his.

  Looking around the crowded bar, it seemed to Dan that

  everyone was with someone else. Everyone had someone to talk to, someone to laugh with. Everyone but him.

  And her.

  He narrowed his eyes, studying the girl on the other side of the room. He'd seen her when she first came in; the wild colors in her dress were enough to catch his eye even in this overcrowded room. He'd noticed her a time or two since then. At first he'd assumed she was waiting for someone, but no one showed up.

  She'd backed herself into a corner, looking as out of place as he felt. Acting on an impulse, Dan slid off the bar stool. Carrying his drink, he made his way across the room, sidestepping a couple who stumbled off the dance floor into his path.

  The closer he got to the girl, the stronger was the impression that she didn't belong here. She didn't look like the other women in the place. And it wasn't just that Even to his uneducated eye, her clothes and makeup were odd. Beneath the thick mascara and heavy black eyeliner, her eyes were large and a soft, warm brown. The wildly patterned dress had a scooped neckline that exposed as much breast as it covered. From the high waistline, the skirt dropped in a bell shape to a point considerably above her knee. Dan had a vague idea that he'd seen similar dresses on old Laugh-In reruns.

  But despite the makeup and dress, there was something about her. Something almost...lost

  The band was taking a break, making conversation possible.

  "Hi." As openings went, it was simple, if not original.

  She blinked and then her eyes widened as she realized he was speaking to her.

  "Hello."

  "Are you waiting for someone?"

  "No."

  "I'm Dan Remington." He held out his hand.

  "Kelly. Kelly Russell." Her fingers felt small in his. Small and cold.

  "Can I buy you a drink?"

  "That would be nice."

  44 Anything in particular?'*

  "No. I don't have a preference."

  Dan signaled a waitress and ordered an Irish coffee before turning back to Kelly.

  "Do you come here often?"

  "No." Something in the question seemed to amuse her and he found her fleeting smile as appealing as the rest of her. She didn't seem to feel any need to fill the silence with polite conversation while they waited for their drinks, and he found that pleasant, too.

  In truth, Kelly couldn't think of anything to say. Certainly conversation with an attractive man had been part of her tangled fantasies. But in those fantasies she'd always known just what to say, dazzling him with her wit and charm.

  When the waitress brought the coffee, Kelly clutched it to her, almost scalding her tongue on the hot liquid. The smooth bite of the whiskey flooded her mouth, hitting her empty stomach with a bounce and then racing through her veins without pause. She felt her face flush. Where she'd felt cold and clammy before, she was suddenly warm and cozy. She gave Dan a shy smile.

  "It's very good. Thank you."

  When was the last time he'd had a woman thank him for buying her a drink? Dan smiled back at her, feeling suddenly that the evening might not be a total waste, after all. The speakers popped as the amplifier was turned back on. The band was preparing to start another set.

  "Do you want to dance?"

  Kelly nodded, finishing the last of the Irish coffee with a gulp. She didn't know how to dance, but she'd watched the couples on the floor earlier and it didn't look all that difficult. Besides, she was suddenly feeling much more confident.

  As the evening wore on, Kelly's confidence increased in direct proportion to the level of alcohol in her bloodstream. She was finally getting a taste of what life was really like and it was everything she'd thought.

  Dan Remington had given the man in her daydreams a face. He was tall, with streaky blond hair and eyes as blue as a

  summer sky. His smile was easy but she thought she read something behind it, a loneliness maybe, that she understood

  They didn't talk much. Words didn't seem necessary. It was as if they were communicating without them. When the band moved into a slow tune and Dan slipped his arms around her, Kelly felt as if she had come home at last. Through the haze of three Irish coffees, she knew that her whole life had been directed toward this one moment.

  A small voice in the back of her mind cautioned her. This was one night only, one night out of a lifetime. Tomorrow everything would be as it was, as it had always been, as it probably would always be. She might never see this man again. But she shoved the voice away, refusing to let common sense intrude on the magical spell that seemed to be weaving itself around the two of them.

  For Dan, the magic was a little more prosaic, a little more easily understood. He wanted to forget For tonight, he wanted to forget everything that might have been, everything he'd once dreamed of having. He wanted to forget die loneliness.

  Kelly didn't insist on meaningless conversation. She was soft and warm in his arms, a shield from the chill of being alone. And the wistfulness he thought he glimpsed in her eyes told him that she knew what it was to be alone—to be lonely.

  As the lights dimmed for another slow tune, Dan drew her into his arms, feeling her settle against him. It felt right to hold her in his arms, to feel her slender body against his. He didn't allow himself to question how much of that lightness was whiskey induced. For this one night, he needed to forget.

  On the darkened dance floor, his mouth found hers. She jumped as if startled, her mouth stiff beneath his. He would have drawn back but her lips suddenly softened. She seemed to melt against him, warm and pliant

  For Kelly, the kiss was a revelation. In all her vague dreams of what a kiss would be like, she'd never imagined anything approaching reality. Dan's mouth was firm, just like his body against hers. He tasted of whiskey, a sharp, smoky taste that threatened to melt her bones.

  His tongue came out to trace the soft swell of her lower lip

  and Kelly shuddered at
the intensity of feelings that sprang to life. Her head was spinning with sensations she'd never experienced.

  When the music ended, Dan led her off the floor. The table they'd been using was now occupied by a group intent on bringing in the new year with a noisy bang. Dan wedged a space for them at the bar, signaling the bartender and ordering two more drinks.

  The small voice of reason suggested to Kelly that she'd had more than enough to drink already but it was easily ignored. She was having fun—for the first time in years. There was a not unpleasant buzzing sensation in her head, and Dan's arm around her waist was all that kept her feet from floating right off the floor. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so good

  They danced again, kissed again and drank some more. It occurred to Dan that he'd had more than enough to drink, though it would have been difficult to tell by looking at him. His walk was steady, his speech was clear and his eyes had no trouble focusing. But he could feel the effects of the alcohol.

  The loneliness that had become his constant companion these past months had faded to a shadowy presence in the back of his mind. He felt younger and freer than he had in years. He felt like acting his age. He grinned at the thought, feeling suddenly reckless.

  "What is it?" Kelly's question made him realize that he was grinning foolishly to himself.

  "Just a thought. Let's dance." He guzzled the last of his whiskey before leading her onto the floor. He didn't want to dance, didn't have the slightest idea what the music was. It was just an excuse to put his arms around Kelly's slender waist, to feel her nestle up against him.

  It was sweet torture to hold her like this, to feel the soft brush of her against his body, to feel the slender length of her back under his hands. It came to him suddenly that he couldn't remember ever wanting anyone the way he wanted her. His body ached with the need to have her close without the irritating barriers of their clothes interfering.

  Kelly trembled as his mouth found the sensitive shell of her ear. His teeth nibbled at the lobe, sending shivers down her spine, making her knees weak. There was a heaviness in the pit of her stomach that she had never felt before, a kind of burning ache.