The Baby Trail. Karen Rose Smith

former agent’s face had lines around his eyes and mouth. Gwen guessed he was nearing forty. Had he left the FBI because the job had taken its toll? His face was so interesting, so ruggedly angular, she could look at him all day.

      But that wasn’t why she was here.

      “Amy was nestled in a blanket, but she had on this cute little sweater and hat and one of those one-piece terry playsuits…in yellow.”

      “Why did you call the social worker? Wouldn’t the sheriff have done that?”

      “Shaye and I have been friends a long time. I wasn’t about to let Amy out of my hands without knowing someone who cared was looking after her.” Before Shaye and the sheriff had arrived, Gwen had cuddled Amy, rocked her, crooned to her, and it had been very difficult to let Shaye take her.

      When Garrett Maxwell’s penetrating gaze focused on her, Gwen felt turned inside out.

      “Where is she now?” he asked.

      “In the hospital’s nursery.”

      He leaned back in his chair and it creaked. “Does she need to be in the hospital?”

      Suddenly Gwen decided she wouldn’t want to be interrogated by this man. He was methodical and thorough. “The doctor examined her and found she was jaundiced. She’s over that, but now they’re trying to find a family to take her. I would have liked to, but—”

      “What?” Garrett asked, his gaze probing.

      Gwen felt she was too close to him, though the distance of the table separated them. “I have to work, and I’d have to find someone to babysit. Besides that, I’m a firm believer a child should ideally have two parents—two parents who are going to love her forever. And it’s just me, so I couldn’t give her that. Shaye says they can easily find a couple who will…if we don’t find the mother.”

      Garrett’s gaze closely appraised her again until she felt like shifting in her chair. Finally he commented, “If you do find the mother, the child will be taken away from her, anyway.”

      “Maybe. But Shaye says it depends on the circumstances. It’s not like she abandoned her in a dumpster or in a cold alley. I’m racking my brain to figure out who might have known me and why they would have left the baby with me. I’ve met a lot of unwed mothers.”

      “How so?” He took a long swallow of coffee.

      “I’m a nurse practitioner, and I specialize in obstetrics. I help set up programs for unwed mothers.”

      “In Wild Horse Junction?”

      “All over the state.”

      After he seemed to absorb that information, he stood. “There’s not much here to go on.”

      Gwen wasn’t ready for this meeting with him to be over. Because of Amy. Because… Simply because. “I read you’re good at what you do. I know you can find her.”

      “Miss Langworthy—”

      “Gwen,” she corrected him, forestalling him, not wanting him to tell her he wouldn’t take the case. “I’ll pay you,” she hurried on. “I’ll pay you somehow, whatever you charge. This little girl deserves to know who her mother is. She deserves to know why her mother left her with me. If she goes through life always wondering—” Gwen stopped abruptly.

      Rounding the table, Garrett Maxwell stood close by her side. “What will that do to her?” His eyes were suddenly compassionate.

      “It will make her unsure of who she is and where she came from. And who she might become,” Gwen murmured, unwilling to reveal too much.

      “We’re not talking about Baby Amy now, are we?” The question was rhetorical, and he was trying to make a point.

      Looking him squarely in the eyes, Gwen answered, “We’re talking about any child who doesn’t know his or her roots.”

      Neither of them looked away. The moment palpitated with Gwen’s passion for the search along with man-woman awareness.

      Finally Gwen asked, “Will you help me find Amy’s mother?” That was the bottom line for her and all that mattered.

      “I usually search for children, not parents.”

      There was steel in his tone, and she had the feeling he didn’t change his mind once he made a decision.

      “Can you make an exception?”

      Time ticked by in interminable seconds until he assured her, “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

      Her stomach sank and she stood. Pulling a business card from her pocket, she laid it on the table. “When?” she asked, aware of the we’ll-get-back-to-you line and professionals who never did.

      “You need an answer soon because you’re going to find a P.I. to do this if I won’t?” he guessed.

      “Exactly. I don’t give up easily, Mr. Maxwell. And I don’t have much time.”

      After a few more beats of studying her, he muttered, “I guess you don’t. I’ll call you tomorrow evening with my answer.”

      They were close enough to touch…close enough to breathe the same breakfast-nook air…close enough that his scent—male mixed with outdoors—was a potent fantasy generator. But Gwen didn’t indulge in fantasies anymore—not since her last vestige of trust in men had been crushed.

      Garrett Maxwell’s words were an obvious dismissal. When he motioned toward the front of the house and said, “I’ll walk you out,” she went that way, illogically curious about how this enigmatic man lived.

      She didn’t have time to take in every nuance, but she did spot the hall that must have led to downstairs bedrooms, the loft with a Native American blanket hanging over the railing, the stone fireplace.

      At his front door now, she extended her hand to him again. “It was good to meet you, Mr. Maxwell.”

      This time he took her hand and when palm met palm, she felt a jolt of attraction that was so electric her breath caught. If she had to say how long their hands were clasped, there was no way she could. Ten seconds…twenty minutes…a half hour. There was no time, only the deep gray of Garrett Maxwell’s eyes, the heat of his skin against hers. It was a moment she’d remember for a long time to come.

      Suddenly he dropped his hand, and she turned to the cooler outside air so he wouldn’t see the heat burning her cheeks. She didn’t know whether to hope Garrett Maxwell took the case or didn’t. Yet she knew if he did, he’d find Amy’s mother.

      Chapter Two

      Garrett stared through the glass window of the hospital nursery at Baby Amy, and a lead stone turned in his gut. If everything had gone as planned, he would have been the father of a five-year-old right now. But everything hadn’t gone as planned. Cheryl had miscarried and blamed him. His divorce had made him rethink his work and his life and that’s how he’d ended up back in Wild Horse Junction, Wyoming.

      Why this baby had brought up the past, he didn’t know. Maybe simply because she was a baby. It was a good reason to stay away from her and the case. An even better reason was his adrenaline-rush attraction to Gwen Langworthy. Okay, so maybe his hammering had made her approach inaudible. But nobody had ever snuck up on him like that before without his gut alerting him. On top of that, he’d been so rattled he’d let her follow him to the house. He always covered his tail. He never let anyone get behind him.

      Old habits died hard.

      As a nurse exited the nursery, Garrett approached her. Her name tag read Dianne Spagnola, R.N. Her gaze ran over his black jeans and snap-button shirt.

      “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m working on the Baby Amy case with the sheriff’s department.” He and the sheriff weren’t working on it together, but they were both working on it. “How’s