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Colt hadn’t even noticed the three bags leaning against the wall just inside the front door. He hurried to them, searching for something—anything—to make this little fella hush up. An array of plastic diapers, blankets and tiny clothes were stuffed into the bags. One by one he threw them out, scattering baby items all over the thick, brown carpet.
“Aha!” he cried. Delirious with relief, he withdrew a filled baby bottle and carried it back to the couch. The baby lay in his padded carrier thrashing his arms and squirming like the rattlesnake Cookie had likened him to. Colt pushed the bottle into the infant’s open mouth. Instantly the baby quieted.
“Just like feeding a motherless calf,” Cookie commented as the child latched on to the nipple and sucked greedily.
“This is a lot more serious than a calf, Cookie. Babies need attention all the time, not just morning and evening. We’ve got to find this baby’s mama and send him home.”
“Cute little feller, ain’t he?” Cookie stroked one fat finger along the baby’s cheek. The child turned his head toward the finger, a pair of brown eyes searching Cookie’s face. “How could any mama worth her salt dump him on a stranger’s doorstep like this?”
“According to the letter, the mother doesn’t consider me a stranger. That’s the odd part of all this. I don’t remember ever meeting any Natosha Parker, but this paper says I’m the only person she trusts to take good care of little Evan.” He looked up and grinned. “I guess his name is Evan.”
“Don’t make no sense, boss. If you don’t know her, how can she trust you?”
“I don’t know.” Thoughtfully Colt rubbed at his whiskers. “Maybe I should call the sheriff and turn the baby over to him.”
“And have him wind up in one of them homes somewhere? We can’t do that to this little feller.”
Never one to shun responsibility, Colt knew Cookie was right. The papers looked legal and in order, granting him complete and total custody of Evan Lane Parker, two-month-old son of Natosha Parker. He’d handled enough of his own stock contracts to know airtight legal work when he saw it.
“That’s the answer, Cookie.” He slapped the papers against his knee. Once more the baby jerked his hands into the air. “These are legal papers. Some lawyer drew them up for this Natosha Parker woman. I’ll call Jace Bristow and have him take a look. He can trace the mother through these papers.”
Jace Bristow had been Colt’s attorney since the two graduated from Texas A & M. He was a great attorney and an even better friend. If anyone could trace this baby’s mother, Jace could do it. Colt breathed a tentative sigh of relief.
Cookie, however, looked doubtful. “What do we do with him in the meantime?”
Colt hunkered down beside the couch, his eyes on the baby. The little critter didn’t look half so scary with his mouth closed. Fact of the business, he was downright cute sucking on that bottle with such heartrending desperation. He wasn’t bald like most babies Colt had seen. He had a smooth cap of dark hair above a round face, a tiny bit of a nose and a pair of big brown eyes that followed every move Colt made. Someone had lovingly dressed him in blue overalls, a soft red shirt and a floppy cotton sailor hat that had fallen off during his fit of crying.
Who are you, little man? And where did you come from? Colt wondered, as he stroked a finger over the velvety soft hand. Evan responded by wrapping his own tiny fingers around the much larger one. At the unexpected rush of emotion, Colt gently withdrew his hand and straightened. He was a responsible man, a decent man, but he was not daddy material. Never would be. He sure as blazes couldn’t go getting attached to somebody else’s baby. And he had a real bad feeling that would be mighty easy to do.
“I’ve got a ranch to run. You’ll have to look out for him.”
“I didn’t hire on to take care of no babies,” Cookie protested. “I feel sorry for the little feller, but I’ll quit if you try to turn me into a nursemaid.”
“Come on, Cookie, you spent twenty years in the navy. Surely, you can handle a baby for a few days.”
“Weren’t no babies in the navy. I got my hands full cooking and cleaning for you and that bunch of ranch hands. I ain’t doin’ it. You’ll have to hire a baby-sitter.”
Suddenly an unpleasant odor emanated from the couch. Colt wrinkled his nose and looked from Cookie to the straining, red-faced infant. Cookie roared like a mad bull and beat a fast retreat to the kitchen. Totally defeated, Colt stared after his cook and then down at the gurgling baby. That was the moment he knew that his life would never be the same.
“So,” he said wearily to the prospective nanny, motioning to the baby in her arms. “That’s all I know about Evan’s mother.”
He didn’t bother to tell her the rest. That live-in help was next to impossible to find because of the ranch’s isolated location in the middle of miles and miles of cattle range. Nor did he mention his less-than-stellar bachelor reputation. No use telling Miss Kati Winslow all that, or she’d up and run out the door and leave him with this unhappy baby.
“Trouble is, I don’t know what I’m doing and he senses it. He cries all the time. Never sleeps.” Colt’s shoulders sagged. “I think he hates me.”
With each word, Kati’s foolish heart lifted a few inches. He really was desperate. She just might be able to pull this off. “Have you considered turning him over to Social Services?”
Colt wagged his shaggy head. “Even though there are some good foster parents out there, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. For some reason Evan’s mother trusted me to care for him, and I’m going to do that until I find her.”
Sadness shimmied through Kati, her thoughts centered on the poor abandoned baby in her arms. This little boy had narrowly missed placement in foster care, a life that Kati knew all too well. She’d do anything—anything to spare him that. Her desire to care for him shot up a notch. Certain she was helping all concerned, Kati buried her nose in Evan’s soft, powder-scented neck and battled the guilt of using Colt’s kindness against him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Garret.” With steely determination she stood and tenderly handed him the sleeping baby. A puzzled Colt slipped his dark, powerful hands beneath the child, cradling the small body against his wide masculine chest. Kati glanced away and gulped. In the next two minutes she needed to be convincing, not moved to tears by the sight of a big ol’ cowboy holding an innocent baby.
Drawing upon a lifetime of pretending, Kati took a deep breath and coolly announced, “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not interested in the job.”
Colt looked stunned. Panic filled his bloodshot eyes.
“What? No. You can’t do this. I need you. He needs you.” He came around the desk holding Evan against his shoulder with one hand while extending the other in a pleading gesture. “Please. The salary is good. You’ll have your own room, your own cook, the run of the place.”
She shook her head. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but the baby’s mother could return at any time. There’s no job security. Furthermore, the ranch is so secluded.”
Colt’s dark-brown eyes locked with her gray ones, using every ounce of his persuasive charm. If she hadn’t fully intended to take the job—under her own terms, of course—she’d have buckled from the pressure. The look Colt gave her was enough to melt the polar ice cap. And Kati was a marshmallow.
“Please,” he pleaded hoarsely, “I’ll pay you whatever you ask. Anything at all.”
He moved nearer, bringing with him the scent of man and baby mingled pleasantly together.
“You’re the only qualified applicant I’ve had.” He sounded pathetic—and smelled wonderful. “The references you gave me over the phone all checked out. I’ll raise the pay. Heck, I’ll even…buy you a car. You have to take the job.”
He stood within a breath of her, staring down into her face with such earnest persuasion that Kati was on the verge of agreeing to anything he asked. She tried backing away before she lost control of the entire situation. Colt reached out and touched her arm. Like the time all those years ago the thrill of his touch rendered her senseless. She couldn’t think. Her head started chanting Colt’s name.
“Anything, Kati,” Colt begged. “Name it, and it’s yours.”
She was mesmerized. A moth over the flame. A deer in the headlights.
“Anything at all,” he said softly, seductively.
Her heart thundered. Her ears rang. She couldn’t think straight. Why had she come here, anyway? Oh, yes. Because of Colt. To marry Colt. That was it.
“Marry me,” she blurted.
He stared at her as though she’d grown horns. She wondered if she had. This wasn’t the way she’d planned to say it. She’d wanted to remain rational and logical while they hammered out a business deal. Instead she’d become the blathering idiot of her nightmares.
Slowly, Colt withdrew his hand and took one step backward. His horrified gaze remained riveted on her face.
As her good sense returned, Kati squirmed beneath his appraisal, equally as horrified. This was her one chance. If she blew it now, there would never be a Kati’s Angels Child Care.
Having already crossed the line, she straightened her shoulders and plunged in. With every bit of enthusiasm, logic and rationale she could muster while shaking in her shoes, Kati tried to convince him that the plan was simple, easy, and helpful to all concerned. The bankers of Rattlesnake wouldn’t loan her the money to build a child-care center unless she had collateral.
Collateral? What a laugh! To build her dream childcare facility she’d have to borrow the money for everything from the land to the building and even for the first few payments until the center began to turn a profit. And she could only think of one way for a single, jobless orphan to acquire that much collateral. According to the bankers of Rattlesnake, a husband’s collateral would be just fine. But did she have a husband? Not even a boyfriend. And then she’d seen Colt’s ad, and like a gift from heaven the idea came to her.
“So, if you’ll marry me,” she concluded, “I’ll have the collateral I need to get a loan, the children of Rattlesnake will have someone to love and care for them, and you’ll have a nanny, free of charge, for Evan until his mother returns.”
In the course of her monologue, Colt’s horror had turned first to bewilderment and then to incredulity.
“Even if this idea of yours made any sense at all—which it doesn’t—it wouldn’t work.” Colt gave his head a stubborn shake. “I don’t want to get married. Never have, never will. Marriage sucks all the life out of people.”
“I’m not talking about a real marriage.” She hoped she sounded calmer than she felt. “It’s a business arrangement, a marriage in name only as a means to acquire collateral for my loan.”
He shook his head, jostling the bundle in his arms. “Your reasoning makes no sense.”
“It does to me. A fifty-fifty proposition. You get a nanny. I get collateral.” Couldn’t he understand? As long as they made a deal in which each party benefited, she was a businesswoman, not a charity case. She’d had enough of that in her life.
Shoulders sagging wearily, Colt pressed a thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. Little Evan’s whimper brought the big cowboy’s head upright. Panic filled his dark eyes.
“Just a business arrangement, right?” He patted the baby’s wiggling back in awkward desperation. “None of that till-death-do-us-part stuff?”
“Of course not. After I have my loan and Evan’s mother is found, you can go somewhere for one of those quickie divorces. No strings attached.” While her belly shook in trepidation, she spoke lightly, airily, as if she proposed a marriage of convenience to a strange man every day of the week.
Surely he could see the logic in her win-win idea. He needed her almost as much as she needed him. As tired as he was, he couldn’t hold up much longer. He was about to fall over now. And so was she. If Colt didn’t say something soon, Kati would collapse in a heap on the scuffed toes of his black boots.
Still eyeing her with deep suspicion, Colt rubbed at the back of his neck. “Quickie divorce? Where do they do that?”
Kati blinked, uncertain. “I—Reno maybe?” She didn’t have a clue.
“I don’t know, either. My attorney would know.”
Her pulse rate shot up. He was weakening.
He blew out a long, gusty sigh. “Would you be willing to sign papers agreeing to everything? The divorce and all, I mean?”
She really wanted to feel sorry for him, but she couldn’t allow it. For once in her life, she had to be utterly, completely ruthless. Kati’s Angels depended upon it. This precious little boy depended upon it. And the lonely, neglected children of Rattlesnake depended upon it—and her. The vision of Kati Winslow, guardian angel of needy children, bloomed in her imagination.
“Certainly I’ll sign papers. This is a business arrangement.” Nerves rattling like marbles in a tin can, she offered one last piece of bait. “I’ll also sign a prenuptial agreement to the effect that I have no right to any of your financial assets.”
“You’re nuts, you know that?”
Gripping the smooth back of the leather sofa, she willed herself to hang in there. She could do this. She had to. This was her one and only chance to fulfill the dream of a lifetime.
“I am not crazy. Just desperate like you. Each of us needs something from the other. This is the perfect solution.”
His lips twisted wryly. “ Perfect isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.”
She shrugged, hoping for nonchalance. “Well, perhaps you can find some other nanny for the child.”
Gathering her purse, she battled her conscience and looked toward the door as if to leave.
The baby’s whimper grew louder.
“No!” Colt shouted. His hand snaked out and snagged her arm. Colt thrust the fussing child toward her. “Please. Three weeks is all I can take. You’re the only human being that’s agreed to accept the job under any circumstances.”
Carefully extracting her arm from his strong, warm grip, Kati stepped back, refusing to take the baby. It wasn’t an easy thing to do considering how much the baby needed her, and how pathetically Colt begged, but he was almost hers. She couldn’t fold now. “Well, then?”
“I can’t just up and marry a woman I don’t know. What if I don’t like the job you do with Evan?” His gaze fell to the fidgeting baby in his arms. “What if you’re a lousy baby-sitter?”
“We aren’t called baby-sitters anymore. We’re nannies.”
“Will you consider a trial run?”
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
“Move in with us for a few weeks until we see how things go. If your work is satisfactory and Evan is still with me, I’ll—” He seemed to strangle on the words.
“Marry me?”
“Yeah. That.”
“Will you sign a paper to that effect?”
In spite of himself, Colt grinned. She’d used his own words against him. She might be nuttier than a pecan pie, but she was smart. Not as smart as he was, though. He’d had plenty of experience dodging wedding bells.
He only needed her for a few weeks tops. By then, Natosha Parker would be found, and Miss Kati Winslow would be out on her conniving little—ear. Meanwhile, he could resume his work and get a decent night’s rest. Evan would have the good, motherly care he deserved instead of the fumbling efforts of an exhausted cowboy and an old sailor. The little nutcase was right. She had the perfect solution.
“Yes, I’ll sign the blasted paper.”
He handed her the baby again, and this time she took him, hardly able to believe she’d actually pulled it off as Colt strode to the desk and began scribbling on a sheet of paper.
Reaction set in. Legs trembling so that she could barely stand, Kati settled back on the couch and hid her face in the baby’s neck. She’d done it. Colt Garret was going to marry her, and she’d finally have children to love and a place to call her own.
The infant made soft, mewling sounds in her ear, a reminder of the most important part of the deal. Pressing him into her shoulder, she patted and rocked until he settled once more into slumber. He was so helpless and innocent that an enormous wave of protectiveness surged through her.
I’m sorry, baby, that I had to use you this way. I’ll do right by you. I promise.
“Here you go, Miss Kati,” Colt drawled, handing her the agreement. “I, Colt R. Garret, do promise to marry you one month from today in the event that Evan Parker is still in my custody. How’s that?”
“Everything seems in order.” Taking care not to wake Evan, she folded the paper and slipped it inside her purse. “A month should give us plenty of time to plan an appropriate wedding.”
Colt thought his head would explode. “Now, wait a minute, here. I never agreed to a wedding.”
“This paper in my purse says you did.”
“It says marry, not wedding.” Suddenly he was having second thoughts. If she started planning a wedding, half the county would know about it, a most disagreeable situation that would make shaking her off all the harder. Besides, he didn’t really plan to marry her. That was just a ploy to make her stay with Evan.
He pressed down on his head with both hands. What had he gotten himself into? Didn’t he realize he was too exhausted to make sensible decisions? Hadn’t he seen that on television? Men do stupid things when they’ve been without sleep for days on end. Bright, sensible men became blundering idiots when sleep deprived.
He’d known this woman was a loony toon when she’d first started talking about marriage. Now she was demanding an “appropriate” wedding—whatever in the Sam Hill that meant.
Kati shot him a look of exasperation. “You can’t get married without a wedding.”
“Yes, we can. Couples do it all the time. I know a justice of the peace down at the courthouse who can marry us in two minutes flat.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. In, out. No fuss, no bother.”
Kati shifted the baby to her other shoulder. When he fussed she patted absently at his back, a natural motherly gesture that caused Colt’s stomach to lift the way it did when his truck took a hill too fast. He averted his eyes and tried to concentrate. Lord only knew what he’d fall into if he didn’t pay close attention to Kati Winslow.
Colt flopped down on the opposite end of the long leather couch and scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Lord, he was tired. “This isn’t going to be a real marriage.”
“We’ve already determined that,” she replied, big gray eyes peering at him in a way that made him want to agree with anything she said. “But Rattlesnake is a small town. If the banks get wind that this isn’t a real marriage, they may not think the collateral is real, either. I can’t take a chance on losing that loan.”
Too sleep deprived to argue further, he threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. Have it your way. Plan a wedding in Westminster Cathedral for all I care.”
