Desperado Dad. Linda Conrad

the porch stairs leaned precariously to one side and the back door could obviously stand a new coat of paint.

      Now he found himself in an old-fashioned mud room, with thirty-year-old linoleum on the floor and yellowing wallpaper on the walls. He clutched the baby to his chest, not wanting him to get a chill. Manny could still see his breath in the air even though they were inside the house.

      “That’s all of it.” Randi came back through the door, carrying two bags full of groceries. “Come into the kitchen, while I light the stove. It’ll only take a few minutes to warm up.”

      She dragged off her slicker, shaking it as she hung it on a peg. Leading the way through the mud room and into the kitchen, she turned on lights as she went.

      Without the raincoat, she looked like a drowned rat. Well, actually, more like a drowned mouse. Thin and pale, her long, straight hair had almost dried, and he noticed only that it was the color of dishwater. She had on a dark pants outfit that appeared to be permanently wrinkled and stained by the rain.

      The only memorable things about her were her eyes. In the light he saw their magical color. Hazel, he supposed they’d call them on a rap sheet. But one minute they were pale green ringed by steel blue, the next minute they were a deep gold with bronze flecks. The vulnerability he’d found within them haunted him more than the interesting colors.

      Suddenly conscious of what a wet mess he was making, Manny stepped onto one of the braided rugs covering the wooden plank floor. Holding the baby against his shoulder, he silently apologized to the child for having to make up a name and for continuing to drag him along during an investigation. He stayed at the far end of the room and let his eyes adjust to the dim light.

      He slowly focused, staring into the wide-open area that served as a kitchen and looked as if it had been furnished in the forties. His gaze took in all the details of the room: the propane-powered icebox with the fan on top, the floor-to-ceiling, free-standing breakfront, used as a pantry, and the two-foot thick, butcher block table in the middle of the room.

      The out-of-date feel to the place reminded him of Mexico. Everything here was well-worn but also well cared for and spotless.

      Randi busied herself shoving chopped wood into a cast-iron stove, the kind that had become very trendy in some areas of the West. Manny seriously doubted if she’d bought the thing to be fashionable. It looked ancient, but usable.

      She lit the fire and fiddled with a damper. “It won’t be long now.” Her gaze caught his and flicked away. “Let me get some towels and a blanket for your baby.”

      When she disappeared down a hall, Manny was shocked to realize he’d been studying her with more than just the professional eye of an undercover special agent. He found he’d been sidetracked once again by those amazing hazel-green eyes.

      As she spoke, she’d looked like a timid fawn. Her skin was pearly with a dash of freckles across the nose. Only average height and a little too thin, as well, he thought. But her hips did curve rather seductively in the dressy slacks she wore.

      All in all there wasn’t a reason in the world for the lick of desire he’d felt when their gazes met. He’d most assuredly felt it, though. And was, in fact, still trying to recover from the jolt.

      Randi came back into the room with an armful of linens. “Here, let me have Ricky. You get out of that jacket and start drying off.”

      After she set the pile of towels and blankets on the counter, he handed her the little boy and peeled off his soggy leather jacket. Manny was surprised to find the room considerably warmer than it had been just a few minutes earlier. He didn’t bother trying to figure out whether the warmth was related to the temperature or came from the nearness of the woman.

      He took a deep breath and smelled a heady combination of mesquite smoke, dried herbs and tangy oranges. Reaching to pull off his boots, he had the weird sensation of being here before, of feeling at home. Maybe it was because the place felt like a safe haven, reminding him of his grandmother’s house in Mexico.

      Manny stood transfixed, with a water-filled boot in each hand, watching as Randi undressed the baby and towel dried his hair. She was easy with Ricky, warm and motherly, and she turned Manny’s senses to mush.

      Son of a gun. This innocent couldn’t possibly be involved with the baby smugglers. It wouldn’t be fair.

      For the first time since he’d taken the oath, he hated what he did for a living. Hated having to pretend to be something he wasn’t. Hated having decent people be afraid of him.

      But the truth was, when push came to shove, if Randi was involved with the smuggling ring, he’d do his job and take her down. The ruthless, international baby snatchers deserved no mercy. He just had to pray this guileless young woman was exactly as she seemed.

      As soon as humanly possible, Manny needed to banish his emotions once more and get out of her house and her life—with his libido and his soul safely intact.

      Two

      “The phone’s on the wall behind you.” The sound of Randi’s voice broke into Manny’s daydream.

      “Can you dial the operator and ask to speak to the sheriff’s office?” She kept a hand on Ricky while speaking to Manny over her shoulder. “I think we should report your wreck and see what needs to be done.”

      Before they contacted any sheriff, Manny needed to contact his boss at Operation Rock-a-Bye. Without saying a word to Randi, he shoved his wet jacket and boots into the washroom and picked up the phone. “The line’s dead.”

      “Oh, dear. The storm must be worse. That means the electricity will be next.” She wrapped the lethargic baby in a heavy blanket and handed him over to Manny. “We’d better get a move on. There’s a shower stall off the mud room. You and the baby get under the warm water. I’ll start a fire in the front room.”

      When she turned to move away from him, Manny clamped a hand over her arm. Her skin was ice-cold.

      “Is there anyone else in the house? Anyone you’re expecting?”

      She shook her head and jerked on her arm, but he didn’t release her. Not just yet. “You need to warm up as much as we do. You’re shivering. You take the baby into the shower. I’ll start the fire.”

      “No…no.” She eased her arm away from his grasp, and he released her reluctantly. “I know where everything is. You don’t. I’ll light some kerosene lanterns just in case. And I’m pretty sure there’s a trunk in the attic with some baby things—maybe even clothes that’ll fit you.”

      She tilted her head, letting her gaze travel up his full length, making him feel naked and taking him in a direction he didn’t want to go.

      “Well, maybe at least something that’ll do in an emergency.” With that pronouncement, she swiveled on the balls of her feet and headed to the door. “I’ll get changed while I’m upstairs. I’ll be okay.” She turned her head to look in his direction. “Everything will be okay.”

      “Right,” he muttered as she disappeared. “Everything’s going to be just swell.”

      Randi almost made it back downstairs before the power went out. Almost. Instead, she wasted time speculating about the dangerous-looking man and child she’d taken into her home.

      The lights blinked once, then plunged the house into a familiar darkness. Without missing a step, she reached for the candle and some matches she’d stashed in the attic for emergencies. Lately one problem or another caused a power outage every month, and she simply didn’t have the money to buy a new generator.

      Lighting the candle and inching her way to the darkened stairs, Randi’s mind went back to the broad-shouldered man who’d been dressed head to toe in black. When he’d stepped into her kitchen and taken off the leather jacket, she’d caught a glimpse of rippled muscles under his inky-colored T-shirt and jeans.

      The man emanated power and excitement. Never in