Let's Make a Baby! Page 2

  “I don’t think so,” Lisa replied sadly. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

  “Any time,” Nicola said. “You’re a smart lady. Think about it.”

  “I will.”

  “Ciao.”

  Lisa was about to change for dinner when Maureen responded to her message. “Well? Tell all!” she commanded from the screen, her freckled face alight with interest.

  As Lisa repeated her story, her Canadian friend kept nodding, occasionally tucking a rebellious wedge of red hair behind one ear. “That video of Boris Grissofsky was for you?”

  “You saw it?” Lisa hadn’t realized the video had gone public. “How? Where?”

  “He hired Win—” that was her filmmaker boyfriend “—to shoot it. He paid well, too. The first check bounced, but he made good.”

  Win took video jobs to support himself between shooting low-budget films. He always seemed in need of financing. The one time Lisa had met him, he’d kept hinting that her family should invest in his next feature, until Maureen had silenced him.

  Here was an unexpected inside source of information. “What’s Boris like?” Lisa asked. “Have you met him?”

  “Not in person,” her friend replied. “Win says he’s smooth on camera but cranky and sometimes downright nasty in person. Tell me you aren’t going to marry him!”

  “Not if I can help it. What do you think of this?” Lisa repeated Nicola’s suggestion about having a baby by herself, along with her reservations about using a clinic.

  “I agree about the clinic. But it’s not a bad idea,” Maureen answered thoughtfully. “Why not pick a guy and do it the fun way? At least you’d have memories to show for it. Plus a baby.”

  Lisa groaned aloud. “Oh, sure. There’s a perfect guy just waiting around the corner who’ll never bother me again, never sue for custody, never try to blackmail me...”

  “Quite being negative.” Maureen grinned. “Buy an ovulation kit, make sure the timing’s right and travel somewhere in disguise.”

  An image popped into Lisa’s mind of herself at a costume ball, wearing a feathery mask while flirting with a tuxedo-clad stranger. Seriously? “Sleep with a stranger?” She grimaced at her computer screen. “That’s dangerous. And stupid.”

  “You worry too much.” Maureen herself was fearless, having left home right after high school, worked at a variety of jobs and traveled extensively, alone. “Besides, it wouldn’t have to be a total stranger. We could check him out.”

  “He’d recognize me,” Lisa protested. “The De La Penas are famous all over Europe.”

  “Go to America,” was the prompt reply.

  “They don’t have noblemen. My father would object.”

  “Forget that! You have enough blue blood all by yourself. Did you say he wanted grit? Americans are famous for it.”

  Lisa hated to reject her friend’s advice, which was kindly meant. Still, this was nuts. “I know you’re trying to help.” She blew out a long breath. “But I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll ask around,” responded her friend. “Chat tomorrow morning at nine.” She was gone before Lisa could protest further.

  It did sound like an adventure, Lisa thought mischievously. However, she’d far prefer it if her parents simply backed off.

  No such luck. At dinner, her father mentioned introducing her to Boris and scowled when Lisa begged for more time to think about it. Had a meeting already been arranged? she wondered.

  She didn’t sleep well that night. On awakening, she recalled a long, troubled dream in which she fled from a many-headed monster, only to find every door closed to her.

  Hot coffee and a croissant eased her anxiety a little. By 9:00 a.m. she was back on-line, surprised to discover that she no longer felt quite so dismayed by the notion of having a baby alone. While she wasn’t crazy about the idea of losing her virginity to a stranger, would that be any worse than losing it to—shudder—Boris?

  Maureen’s face appeared on the screen, only five minutes late. “How’re you doing? Still holding firm against your parents?”

  “I guess you could say I’m bloody but unbowed.” So far.

  “Here’s the scoop,” Maureen continued eagerly. “I asked Win for his opinion...”

  “You didn’t tell him about the baby!” That was the last thing Lisa had expected, that others might learn of her dilemma.

  “Of course not! I told him I knew someone who wanted to have a baby, without mentioning names.”

  “Wouldn’t it be obvious?” Surely Maureen had spoken of Lisa to her boyfriend.

  “Men don’t pay attention to things like that,” her friend assured her. “I said you want to keep it anonymous and that you’d like to find an American father. He came up with a terrific idea.”

  Another idea? Her friends were way too creative. “What is it?”

  “A matchmaker,” Maureen said.

  “Oh, come on! With a tent and crystal ball? Or an online dating service? They scrape up your data and use it to harass you with ads.”

  “No! Not a dating service and not a real matchmaker. I was speaking figuratively. Win suggested you hire a detective to find you the right guy.”

  That was original. “How would it work?” Lisa asked, curious in spite of her reservations.

  While making a public-relations video for a company in California the previous year, Maureen said, Win had met a private investigator who was gathering background on a fugitive embezzler. The man specialized in finding missing persons.

  “You think I should hire him to find a daddy?” It seemed off, somehow. Very off.

  “That’s what Win suggested,” replied her friend. “His name is Ryder Kelly, and guess what? I looked up his website and he’s gorgeous. Maybe you don’t need for him to find anyone else. He’s perfect.”

  The detective? “Maureen, you’re not proposing that I proposition this guy?”

  “Not exactly. Just, uh, seduce him.”

  “I have no idea how to do that!”

  Maureen ran a hand through her mussed red hair. She hadn’t brushed it very well this morning, probably after a heated night with Win. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? Lisa, you’re a knockout, and he’s what people used to call a man’s man. An ex-Marine and a former cop. How’s that for tough and self-sufficient? Also unmarried.”

  “He put that on his website?” Not very professional for a PI, Lisa figured. Based on my zero experience with detectives.

  “Only to show that he’s ready to travel wherever and whenever he’s needed,” Maureen explained. “One of the things he does is track down bail jumpers.”

  “He’s a bounty hunter?” Lisa got a mental image of a cowboy in the Wild West, leaning forward in the saddle as he lassoed a varmint. “He doesn’t ride around on a horse, does he?”

  “See for yourself.” Maureen provided the Internet address and added, “Don’t chicken out. Your future happiness is at stake.” With a farewell wave, she clicked off.

  Lisa stared at the screen. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering this outrageous scheme. How ironic, that getting pregnant out of wedlock, which would once have meant scandal and shame, might be more acceptable to her parents than simply rejecting Boris, moving out and getting a job. So Lisa hoped, anyway.

  They’d often accused her of being impulsive, but in a many respects, she hadn’t been impulsive enough, she thought. Wasn’t this a chance worth taking?

  Her parents certainly hadn’t indicated any great fondness for Boris personally. He was simply an acceptable figure to drop into the role of her husband. Acceptable to them, but not to her.

  On the other hand, what about this bounty hunter? Purely for entertainment purposes, Lisa typed in his web address, and up popped a colorful promo for Ryder Kelly Investigations. The photo showed a handsome man with a strong face and light-brown hair cut no-nonsense short. Those sharp eyes and strong cheekbones sent an accustomed thrill through her.

  The information confirmed what Maureen had told her
: Ryder Kelly was a private investigator specializing in missing persons. It listed references, including the head of security at a major corporation and a police captain in the LAPD who had been Ryder’s supervisor.

  A daddy-to-be with references, she thought. How perfect. Assuming that she was buying into this whole business.

  Abruptly, the man’s face turned toward her. With a shock, she saw his dark eyes searching her face. Was she hallucinating?

  A deep, steady voice spoke from the screen. “I’m glad you found me,” he said. “Now let me find whoever you’re looking for.”

  It’s just a video. Why did it make Lisa feel as if she’d been caught sneaking around?

  She had to smile at her gullibility. Plus, it was a clever trick. The man had intelligence and nerve. Not to mention references.

  Of course, she needed more details about him before she would feel comfortable selecting him as the father of her baby, assuming he was open to being hired for the task. Was he cruel or kind? Wise or shallow? A suitable father from her perspective, as well as from her parents’?

  Lisa’s brain kept playing with the situation. If she seduced him, it would have to be a quick affair. Tricking him didn’t seem right, yet he struck her as the kind of man who rejected being tied down. If he never knew the results, if he were the kind of macho guy who’d enjoy a one-night stand, she wouldn’t really be hurting him, would she?

  Lisa wriggled uneasily. She ought to...do what? Obey her parents and marry a jerk? Defy them and break their hearts? Seduce a stranger and take advantage of him?

  Maybe she didn’t have to decide in advance. She could live up to her reputation of being impulsive.

  Excitement stirred at the prospect of meeting this handsome fellow. In her real life, Lisa would never have a chance to get close to anyone like him, unless he worked for her family. What was he like? How would it feel to be held in his arms, to meet his mouth with hers?

  A more sensible side of her asked, what about his medical history? And would he really be that careless about contraception?

  Lisa sighed. The only thing she could focus on without feeling totally torn in pieces was a baby. A sweet-faced infant she could nurture and love. She wouldn’t even mind the dirty diapers: volunteering at the hospital, she’d helped in the nursery. How thrilling it would be, and how meaningful, to raise a child instead of leading this indulgent, empty existence.

  The strength of her longing caught Lisa off guard. To her surprise, she realized that she’d reached a decision.

  Whether or not she ultimately chose this man to impregnate her, she was definitely flying to America to meet him. Once she arrived, she could buy an ovulation kit and determine the best time to conceive.

  Then she would embark on the greatest adventure of her life. Wherever it might lead her.

  Chapter Two

  Ryder was waiting his turn on top of the mountain when he noticed the woman below, near the ski lodge. A glint of sunlight off her binoculars drew his eye to the long black hair that fell across the shoulders of her colorful ski jacket.

  She lowered the binoculars, revealing an exotic, oval face, and Ryder let out a low whistle of appreciation. Despite her beauty, there was an innocence about the way she held herself, the tilt of her head perhaps, that tempted him to find out how innocent she really was.

  Man, you’re flipping out. That lady is the last thing you need.

  Adjusting his sunglasses against the snow’s glare, he turned his attention to a queue of people below him and to one side, on the intermediate slope. Just about the time Ryder would be ready to launch himself down the mountain, so would Mr. Joe Ortiz, alias Joseph Orton. He’d had the man under surveillance since early yesterday. Ortiz had proved an elusive target, but his own greed was guiding him into Ryder’s hands.

  Right in front of Ortiz stood his latest target, a sixtyish woman with expensive ski gear. Ryder didn’t know her particulars, but he was sure “Joe the 0” had already checked out her bank account and was well on his way to taking possession of it.

  Down near the lodge, a young man in a fisherman sweater approached the young black-haired woman. Although she flashed him a smile that lit up the afternoon shadows, she politely shook her head. The man hesitated before, reluctantly, he retreated.

  Miss Innocence swung her binoculars into place and, for a startled moment, Ryder could have sworn she was staring directly at him. She glanced away. Quickly. Too quickly. She had been staring at him.

  He’d played this kind of game with women before, although not recently. Sometimes it led to lovemaking, sometimes to disappointment. Occasionally to his being served with a notice to appear in court to testify about one of his cases.

  Despite the risk, speculation shimmered across Ryder’s mental landscape. Exactly how far did the woman’s interest in him extend? How would she look without that jacket, or anything else, just a waterfall of dark hair spilling over her personal landmarks?

  He caught himself abruptly. Judging by her designer ski clothes, the lady had money. That reduced the chances of her being a process server, but she held herself too regally for his taste. Ryder didn’t like spoiled princesses.

  If the lady turned out not to be a snob, she was likely in search of Mr. Right and a gold ring or at least joint home ownership. Not for him. Ryder craved excitement, fresh challenges and occasionally a whiff of danger. He wasn’t cut out for commitment and he was too honest to mislead women.

  He jerked his attention back to his surroundings as the skier directly ahead of him pushed off. Below, it was Mrs. Target’s turn, but she was fussing over one of her boots and holding up the line. If Ryder went now, he’d be too early. Time for a show of chivalry to the skier behind him, except that, when he turned, he found himself facing not a woman but a hulking guy with tattoos decorating his neck.

  Ryder caught a mouthful of cold air and coughed. That gave him an excuse. “Something in my throat,” he sputtered. “You go ahead.”

  “Thanks, pal.” The bruiser started past, then paused to whack Ryder on the back. “Hope that helps!”

  Away he skied. Now Ryder was coughing in earnest. Below, Joe the O’s intended victim had finally wobbled her way onto the slope, and the fugitive was taking off in her wake. That left no time to gauge an exact route.

  Ryder prepared for a whirlwind descent and hoped his haste wouldn’t make an already tricky plan downright impossible. After a bondsman posted $100,000 bail, Joe the O had skipped out of California pending trial on charges that he romanced a widow out of her insurance money. Bail had been set high because it was his third offense, and he faced a twenty-five-years-to-life sentence.

  Since Joe was notoriously suspicious of anyone trying to befriend him, Ryder intended to try the dangerous maneuver of a near collision on the ski slope. Joe had only recently taken up the sport, so it should be easy to panic him into falling. Ryder would insist on driving him to a doctor’s office. Or, if that tactic failed, he would hint that he was fearful of a lawsuit and might be arm-twisted into paying Joe off, if they could just discuss it alone. According to his reputation, Joe never could pass up an easy mark.

  Body low, muscles pumping, Ryder zoomed across the brilliant white surface, jetting around the moguls and past signs warning advanced skiers to stay off the intermediate slope. It was a good thing, Ryder reflected as he swung toward Joe, that he loved breaking the rules.

  His main concern, as he spotted Joe teetering and flailing his way down the hill, was that his quarry would collapse on his own. Then, with a jolt of alarm, Ryder saw that the fugitive was heading in the wrong direction. Very wrong. Oblivious to everything but his own fear of falling, Joe was staggering off the intermediate slope onto the one marked for beginners. Granted, that was where he actually belonged, but the space was already occupied by a group of youngsters practicing snowplow stops.

  Ryder had a hunch Joe hadn’t mastered that particular move yet. Otherwise he wouldn’t be careening toward a group of kids who were only now glanc
ing up, registering alarm and struggling to move out of his way.

  Suddenly Ryder’s little game of waylaying Joe took on real urgency. The inexperienced man might not be traveling very fast, but he was a lot bigger than those kids. A collision could result in snapped bones or worse.

  Ryder pushed with his poles and crouched low to pick up speed. Tension gripped his thigh muscles, his back, his forearms. He had to catch up with Joe in time to knock him away from those youngsters. It wasn’t going to be easy. Quite a distance separated them, and it was obstructed by other skiers, moguls—large lumps of snow—and a discarded pole.

  Ryder veered around one impediment after another and took a shortcut that sent him shooting off a rocky drop. He flew for several seconds before hitting the snow with jarring impact. Ahead Joe was closing fast on the fleeing children.

  One little girl stumbled and toppled. She lay in a jumble of blond hair and brightly striped clothing, directly in Joe’s path. The pudgy con man stabbed at the snow with his poles, trying to stop himself. It apparently never occurred to him, however, that he might deliberately take a fall in order to spare someone else. In another few yards he would run right over the little girl.

  There was no room to maneuver. Coming at Joe from above, Ryder slammed directly into him with a churning, crunching thud that knocked the air out of his own lungs. The impact flung them both off their feet and scattered their poles and skis across the snow.

  Ryder felt himself whirling into a void as he slid across the snow and landed in a heap. He refused to yield to his dizziness, to allow himself to black out. Never lose control. Never give in.

  After a moment the earth stopped spinning and he became aware of people shouting. Snow fanning into the air as other skiers arrived. A child crying. With an effort he lifted his head.

  Light dazzled his eyes; he must have lost his sunglasses in the collision. It took a moment before his pupils adjusted enough to survey the scene. To one side, the little girl struggled to her feet, unharmed. A short distance below, Joe lay with one leg crooked at an unnatural angle. There was nothing wrong with his lungs, though. Ryder could tell from the way the man’s curses were turning the air blue.