Raising Baby Jane. Lilian Darcy

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      Connor straightened from his work for a moment and studied her thoughtfully.

      She was petite, a compact bundle of dark blue with her arms folded like that. She was smaller than her sister, and darker, too. Hair of a glossy black-brown escaped from beneath her hat and reached her shoulders.

      He couldn’t see much of her face. She had that velour hat jammed down so low, it shaded her eyes completely. All he could see was a soft mouth, not wide but gorgeously shaped, and high, well-defined cheeks that were pink from the cold. She would have looked about sixteen if there hadn’t been such a determined, contained aura to her pose and her expression.

      He’d never been slow to form first impressions about a woman. With this one, those impressions were good. He had a feeling that the favor his pretty neighbor had pressed on him might turn out to be interesting.

      Allie was hopping up and down now, trying to keep her feet warm. He hoped they weren’t as wet as her gloves in those leather boots, meant for city streets.

      “Your sister hasn’t told me much about you,” he said to her with a slow grin, “but I’m getting the impression you’re not the wilderness type.”

      “Not since I quit Girl Scouts at age twelve,” she agreed. “I’m a lot more the curling-up-in-front-of-a-blazing-fire-with-some-good-music-and-a-book-and-a-mug-of-hot-chocolate type. Is…uh…that going to be a problem this weekend?”

      Allie asked the question a little nervously. Her boots were leaking and her hands were throbbing. She really didn’t want to hear that this cabin they were headed for had no electricity and one smoky woodstove in a ramshackle kitchen.

      “You mean does my brother’s place have a blazing fire?” Connor asked.

      “For starters, yes.”

      “I can arrange it,” he drawled.

      He had a jaw as square and strong as his snow shovel, a body like a professional sportsman and a voice like gravel dripping with melted fudge. Allie resisted the impulse to conclude that the man could probably “arrange” just about anything he wanted. In the nicest possible way.

      As he returned to work, she had to fight the urge to say to him, “Sing that sea shanty again,” because the rhythm of it had meshed so well with the rhythm of his body, and he had the growling, rollicking singing voice of a pirate.

      “Okay, Karen, that’s freed it now,” he said, after a couple more minutes. “Why don’t you get out and I’ll move the car to a safer spot?”

      “Thanks,” Karen answered, straightening at last from the steering wheel where she’d been resting her head on her arms.

      She climbed awkwardly out onto the snow, and the fresh, cold air brought some healthy color back into her cheeks.

      Connor slid into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition and maneuvered the minivan so that it sat neatly beside his own Range Rover. While he was doing so, Allie said quietly to her sister, “Going to be okay?”

      “Fine now,” Karen nodded.

      “Does he know about the baby?”

      “Not yet. We’ve only just started telling family. You’re the first apart from Mom and Dad and John’s parents.”

      “I won’t say anything this weekend, then.”

      “I may have to tell him, if I keep getting sick like this. I guess I’m nervous about that book cover, which isn’t helping. Nancy Sherlock has already rejected two previous versions done by other artists, and they must have roped me in as a desperation measure. I’ve never done cover art for an author this big before. Apparently, she wants a ‘natural feel.’ She thought the backdrop and the models they used before were ‘too fake.’ And she saw the covers I did for Gloria Blackmore’s ‘Harvest’ trilogy and loved them.”

      “So there you are,” Allie soothed. “She loves your stuff.”

      Karen made a face. “She has a reputation for changing her mind without warning. I mean, was she serious about those models? I decided to try it with you guys because you’re both photogenic, but you’re not professionals. Only maybe that was crazy?”

      “Trust your intuition, Karen,” Allie soothed again. “You’ll calm down once you get behind your camera.”

      “Which reminds me, I’d like to get some photos of the lake right now before the light changes. There’s a great feel and quality to it at the moment, so crisp and clean. And before Janey wakes up.”

      Allie nodded, ignoring the slight tightening of her throat that happened every time her sister mentioned baby Jane, especially in that tender yet casual way.

      Connor was with them again, and had heard Karen’s words. “Having an attack of inspiration?”

      “If that suits you,” Karen nodded. She was already on her way to the rear door of the van to get out her camera equipment.

      “It’s fine,” he agreed. “I’ll bring the snowmobile across for our gear. I checked the ice, and it’s rock-solid out there. The softening from the thaw is only in the top half inch. Meanwhile, my fellow ‘model’ here, can look after her little niece if she wakes up.”

      He tossed a casual grin across to Allie, then his face darkened and fell, and she knew she hadn’t managed to hide her stricken expression. Suddenly, she realized how vulnerable she was going to be this weekend, having to spend it so close to Karen and Jane with a stranger looking on.

      “Hey,” Connor came in quickly, “Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. You’re not nervous about this gig, surely? Treat it as a joke. I am! I’ve never modeled for anything before.”

      “Neither have I,” she managed.

      “And the idea of having your sister do one of those vibrant, romantic book-cover paintings of hers based on photos of us tickles me to death. I leaped at the chance to goof off for a three-day weekend.”

      “I guess I should look at it that way, too,” Allie replied, thankful that he’d unknowingly given her an easy way out of admitting what was really eating away at her heart.

      “Or is it the thought of changing a diaper that’s so frightening?” he teased.

      Could he read her mind?

      “Yes, it’s terrifying,” she answered, trying to make it sound like a joke. “I’ve never changed a diaper in my life.”

      “Seriously?”

      “Seriously.”

      He raised one eyebrow and tucked in the corner of his mouth, and she could tell he wasn’t impressed. Damn it, damn it, it was none of his business! Thrust deep in the pockets of her coat, her thawing hands were shaking.

      “I’ll be back in about five minutes,” he said, then paused for a second. “No, make that ten. I have a couple of things to do inside the house.”

      “Ten minutes. Okay,” she nodded.

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