Baby Trouble. Beth Cornelison

clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles hurt. Then his forehead broke out in a sweat, and an urge to crawl under a blanket in the backseat nearly overcame him.

      As Laura’s estate came into view, he stopped the car and parked by the side of the road. He had to pull himself together before he got home and scared her or the kids. He hyperventilated until he saw spots before he managed to slow his breathing. He concentrated on Adam’s laughter, on Ellie’s tiny perfection, on Laura’s warm brown eyes looking at him with such love it made his heart hurt.

      Gradually, his pulse slowed. He mopped his forehead dry. There wasn’t anything he could do about his sweat-soaked shirt, but hopefully Laura would put it down to the grilling earlier from the lawyers. Relishing the car’s smooth purr, he put it into gear.

      After keying in his security code he drove through the tall iron gates, as always enjoying the bucolic sight of Laura’s prized horses grazing in manicured pastures behind freshly painted oak fences. As he pulled into the six-car garage, he was relieved to see that Laura’s van wasn’t inside yet.

      Mumbling a greeting to Marta, the housekeeper, he hurried upstairs to take a shower. The enclosed shower stall with its rain-heads and steam jets soothed away the last remnants of his panic attack. When he emerged from his dressing room/walk-in closet, he heard Laura cooing to Ellie in the nursery. She was a great mom. It added a whole new dimension to the courageous woman who’d rescued him and spent the past year saving his soul.

      He poked his head into the nursery. “Anything I can do to help?”

      Laura smiled up at him. “I’m afraid you lack the proper anatomical equipment to provide what Ellie wants at the moment.” He gazed at his daughter’s silky, dark head nestled against the pale globe of Laura’s breast. He might have missed Adam’s babyhood—another outrage to lay at his kidnappers’ feet—but he was savoring every minute of Ellie’s.

      “Dinner will be ready in a half hour,” Laura murmured. “I’ve asked Marta to serve it in our rooms.”

      He nodded and retreated to the other end of the hall to play with Adam. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep with Laura. Far from it. She was as generous and adventurous in bed as she was in life. It was just that he was still rattled from the interrogation, panicked that his past was about to rear its ugly head and ruin all of this perfection. What had happened during those lost years to make him hide his identity, even from the woman he loved?

      “Daddeeeeeee!”

      Grinning, he braced himself as Adam launched into the air and splatted against Nick’s chest. He caught his son’s small, wriggly form against his, savoring the smell of soap that clung to the boy’s still-damp hair.

      “Did you do anything fun today?” he asked as Adam dragged him over to the corner to play with the toy du jour—Hot Wheels race cars.

      Adam described his day in charming detail while the two of them built an elaborate racetrack. With dark hair and blue-on-blue eyes so like his own, Adam bent over the task with concentration far beyond his years. He was a frighteningly intelligent child and would go far in life if he used his talents to their maximum potential. They laughed together as too tight a turn sent cars shooting off the track and across the room in spectacular crashes.

      Lisbet, the English and shockingly Mary Poppins-like nanny, interrupted the crash fest to announce that Adam’s dinner, and Mummy and Daddy’s, were served. Nick gave his son a bear hug and tickled him until Adam was squealing with laughter before turning him over to Lisbet.

      Nick stepped into the private sitting room in their suite and stopped in surprise. The space was lit by hundreds of candles and a white-linen-covered table sat alone in the middle. A red rose in a crystal bud vase sat between the two place settings, and a sumptuous meal was laid out. Marta had really outdone herself. It was some sort of exotic fowl served en croute—grouse, maybe. Among other things, the German woman was a Cordon Bleu-trained chef. A real treasure. But then Laura didn’t settle for less than the best in any aspect of her life. She’d be as intimidating as hell if she weren’t such a genuinely warm and kind person. No doubt about it. He didn’t deserve her.

      Laura stepped out of her dressing room and his breath caught. She was wearing a little black dress that highlighted her newly slender body, which had already mostly regained its pre-pregnancy shape partly due to long hours with a personal trainer over the past month. Frankly, the additional curves added to her appeal.

      “You look ravishing,” he announced.

      “And you are as handsome as always,” she replied as he held her chair for her.

      Something within her called to him at a fundamental level, a pull at his soul to protect her and make her happy. It went so far beyond mere attraction he didn’t know how to give it a name. Even calling it love didn’t seem adequate to encompass his need for her or the bond he felt with her. Maybe it was sharing parenthood of two amazing children.

      Or maybe it was the fact that he owed his life to her. He would never forget the sight of her the night he was freed. His own private angel. And then the long months of patiently nursing him back to health, gradually convincing him his ordeal was actually over. Putting up with his unwillingness to face his past. And through it all, her love had been steadfast.

      He wondered sometimes if there was anything that could shake her loyalty to him. What was it that lurked so dark and frightening in his past? Was it bad enough to drive her away? It really wasn’t something he wanted to find out.

      “How are you holding up after being raked over the coals by those lawyers?” Laura asked.

      He shrugged. “Today wasn’t fun. But I expect the trial will be worse.”

      She sighed. “It’ll all be over in a few weeks, and then we can get on with our lives.”

      His gaze dropped involuntarily to her naked left hand. She never once hinted at it, but she had to be thinking about marriage and wondering why he never brought it up. The truth was, he didn’t know if he was married or not, and the only way to find out would be to investigate those ominous, lost years.

      He picked up his water glass—since Laura couldn’t drink wine while nursing, he wasn’t drinking either—and said, “A toast. To a long and happy future for us and our family.”

      She sipped her water and then asked reflectively, “Why don’t you ever talk about the past?”

      He frowned. “I’ve told you why.” Repeatedly, in fact.

      “I’m concerned that, with all the publicity this trial’s going to receive, whoever had you kidnapped five years ago will see you and come after you again.”

      He swore mentally. He hadn’t thought about the publicity. Was there some way to declare a moratorium on filming or photographing him during the trial?

      “Talk to me, Nick. Between the two of us, we can beat any threat that comes our way.”

      A naïve notion at best. “My previous life happened a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Let it be.”

      “The psychiatrists keep telling me to let you deal with your imprisonment and the memory loss in your own time. But I have a gut feeling that your time is running out.”

      So did he.

      Thankfully, she let the subject drop. For now. He had no doubt she would bring it up again, though. And one of these days, she wasn’t going to back off. She’d insist they find answers. His throat tightened until he could hardly swallow the delicious food. What the hell was he going to do? His entire being shied away from thinking about the past. What could have freaked him out at such a soul-deep level? He put the problem in a mental drawer and slammed it shut. Later. He’d think about it later.

      They finished eating, and he changed the music. “Dance with me?” he asked her.

      “I thought you’d never ask, Mr. Cass.”

      Nick held a hand out to her and she took it, rising gracefully