That's My Baby!. Vicki Lewis Thompson

he’d left her, his real estate business and his friends to head for a tiny, war-torn country where he’d worked as a volunteer in the refugee camps. Along with her other emotions connected to Nat, Jessica battled guilt. If she hadn’t pushed him to end the secrecy and marry her, he wouldn’t have left the country. She was sure of it. He’d have stayed in Colorado, making love to her, the sweetest love she’d ever known.

      Instead, to get away from her and the demons she’d demanded that he face, he’d plunged into a violent place where the lines of battle blurred and changed every day. As a civilian he had no weapons and no military training to protect him. He’d spent seventeen months in danger on account of her, and if he’d been killed or hurt, she would have blamed herself.

      She was also to blame for the baby, after he’d told her flat out he never wanted kids. A woman her age should have known antibiotics canceled the effect of birth control pills. But she had some gaps in her sexual education, thanks to growing up shadowed by her own personal bodyguard. She hadn’t known.

      She needed to tell him it was her responsibility. Still, she thought he should know about the baby, in case the stalker got lucky. But before she told him anything, she’d have to convince him who she was. The dark wig, the baggy clothes and the thick glasses wouldn’t look familiar to him. But once he’d figured out it was her, what would she say first?

      Nat, we have a baby girl named Elizabeth. Too abrupt. A man who’d said he never wanted children might need to be eased into that kind of discussion. Nat, I’m disguised like this because I have a stalker on my trail. Too much, too soon. He’d just returned from dodging bullets. He deserved a little peace and quiet before she gave him that bad news, coupled with the information that if anything happened to her he’d need to watch out for Elizabeth, whether he cared to or not.

      Her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a bagful of hot marbles.

      A man in a business suit came toward the woman with the baby, and the baby bounced happily, reaching out for the man. When the father lifted the baby into his arms and showered him with kisses, Jessica had to look away.

      She took off the glasses she was wearing as part of her disguise and brushed the tears from her eyes. She had to pay attention. Nat could be coming along any minute, and she didn’t want to miss him.

      A tall man with a full beard and hair past his collar appeared in the stream of passengers. He wore a battered-looking leather jacket, jeans and boots. A scuffed backpack hung from one broad shoulder, a backpack not too different from the one she carried. Her gaze swept past him, then returned. He moved through the crowd with a familiar, fluid walk, as if he were striding along to a country tune. Nat walked that way.

      She looked closer, past the rich brown of his beard, and her heart hammered. The mouth. She’d spent hours gazing at that chiseled mouth, classic as the mouth on one of her father’s prized Rodin sculptures. She’d spent even more hours kissing and being kissed by that mouth, and her tongue slid over her lips in remembrance. Nat. In spite of the anger and guilt, pure joy bloomed within her at the sight of him. Nat. He was here. He was okay.

      Suddenly whatever she decided to say seemed unimportant. She just had to get to him, wrap her arms around him and give thanks that he’d returned in one piece. Her nightmares had begun the day she’d learned where he was, and CNN had been her lifeline ever since.

      No matter how furiously she’d counseled herself to remain calm when she saw him, she was miles beyond calm. She was weepy with gratitude for his safe return. He was an oasis in the desert her life had become without him.

      Drinking in the sight of him moving through the crowd, she sighed with happiness. Thank God he looked healthy, his skin tanned and his hair still lustrous, reflecting the terminal’s overhead lights. But she’d give him the herbal supplements she’d brought, anyway, and insist that he take them. He didn’t eat right under the best of circumstances, and no telling what he’d existed on over there.

      He was so appealing that she couldn’t help wondering if he’d become involved with anyone while he was gone. A beautiful waif of a woman, perhaps, who spoke little English, but who had awakened his protective instincts. A woman who’d fallen deeply in love with the big, handsome American cowboy who’d come to help. Jessica knew how easily such a thing could happen, and her heart hurt.

      But if he had found another to love, that wasn’t her business. He was free to do as he chose.

      Seventeen months. That was a long time for a single man of thirty-three to go without sex. He might not have fallen in love, but he might have taken a woman to bed….

      She wouldn’t ask. No, she definitely wouldn’t ask. But the thought made her want to cry.

      Moving closer, she focused on his face, trying to meet his gaze. They’d had a magic connection between them, and maybe if she caught his eye, he’d see beyond her disguise and recognize her, heart to heart. He’d be startled, of course, and might wonder if she’d gone crazy while he was out of the country.

      In a way she had. Crazy with worry…and love. Still love. But she wouldn’t let him know that she still loved him. She would be very careful about that, unless…unless he had gone a little crazy, too. Although she’d lectured herself to squash that hope like a bug, she’d let it live.

      At last Nat glanced her way, and she opened her mouth to call to him. But instead of saying his name, she drew back in uncertainty. His gaze was so hard and uncompromising that it intimidated her. He’d changed.

      For a minute she wondered if she’d been wrong in thinking this bearded man was Nat. No, she hadn’t been wrong. It was him. But his blue eyes, once so full of good humor, looked like chipped ice. She wondered what he’d seen in those camps that had put that grim look on his face.

      He gave no sign of recognizing her as he turned and headed down the terminal. Her courage failed and she closed her mouth. But she had to catch him, had to let him know about the baby before he called anyone at the Rocking D in Colorado. Sure as the world someone at the ranch would tell him immediately that she’d left Elizabeth there, although she hadn’t named the father. But Nat would know, once he was told the baby’s age. She couldn’t let him find out that way.

      She had to hurry to keep up with him. Dodging luggage, people and motorized carts, she kept him in sight as he followed the signs directing him toward ground transportation. She knew he planned to stay in the city for a few nights and take care of some business before flying back to Colorado. His secretary, the only person Nat had contacted before coming home, had said so.

      Bonnie didn’t know about the baby or the stalker. She just thought she was helping Jessica create a romantic homecoming surprise for Nat. During the year Nat and Jessica had been secretly involved, Bonnie had set up many of their rendezvous locations, and she’d seemed to relish the role of matchmaker.

      When Nat and Jessica had separated, Bonnie had called Jessica, urging her to try to patch things up. Jessica had refused, convinced that Nat had meant for the affair to end from the beginning, which was why he’d kept it such a secret. But when her pregnancy was confirmed, she’d called Bonnie and learned that Nat was out of the country and unreachable. Since then, Jessica had made use of her friendship with the secretary to find out exactly when Nat was due back.

      The escalator foiled Jessica’s plans to catch up with him. People and wheeled carry-ons bunched onto the grooved metal steps between them and made it impossible for her to get close. But she didn’t really want to confront him here, anyway, she finally realized. Her news was upsetting enough without being delivered under harsh overhead lights with the din of people and the clatter of baggage to interfere with an emotional conversation.

      He’d undoubtedly take a taxi from the airport to his hotel. She’d follow in another taxi and catch him in the lobby. Much better. Maybe they could go for a drink to discuss their options.

      The chill of an October night cooled her overheated system as she bustled outside and followed him toward the taxi stand. She gained some valuable time as he convinced the cabdriver to let him ride in front. How like Nat to hate the idea of being chauffeured. She’d been drawn