Baby Dreams. Raye Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ Officer,” she said brightly, rolling down her window as he approached the driver’s side of the car. She winced as snowflakes hit her nose with a sting. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see a friendly face. Where am I, anyway?”

      Ignoring the question, his dark eyes made a quick inventory of the interior of her car. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, all business.

      She hesitated. On this road? Absolutely nowhere. “To a baby shower in Denver,” she said aloud. “Am I going the wrong way?”

      Something about the set of his chin told her she wasn’t going to get an answer to that question.

      “May I see your license, please?” he intoned evenly.

      She swallowed. Not a ticket, on top of everything else. “What was I doing?” she asked, putting off the inevitable.

      His dark face didn’t respond in kind to her friendly smile, but he did tell her what he thought. “Driving like an idiot,” he noted calmly.

      Her smile became a little more strained. “Have they got a special number in the vehicle code for that now?”

      His bland look darkened into a frown. Obviously he wasn’t in the mood for light repartee. “Let me see your license, please,” he repeated, his voice just a shade more steely.

      “Okay.” She sighed, resigned. “My license.” She reached onto the floor beside her seat where she always kept her purse. Her hand didn’t contact anything familiar. “Just a second.” She reached under the seat, then looked behind it. A tiny flare of panic began to lick at her throat. Where the heck was her purse?

      “Wait a minute. I can’t find my purse,” she said.

      “Interesting,” he murmured dryly.

      She glanced at him, caught by something in his tone. “No, really, I have it. It’s here somewhere.”

      But she still couldn’t find it. Oh, brother. Now what? She thought back quickly. She’d made a stop about three miles ago when the snow had begun to blind her. She’d taken out her map to see if she was on the right road, then had gone back to the trunk to see if there were any chains hiding there. At one point, she’d thought she sensed something falling out into the swirling snow, but when she’d looked she hadn’t seen it again. Now she knew—it must have been her purse falling out of the car.

      She gasped. “Oh, my God. I must have knocked it out along the road back about three miles,” she told him. Twisting, she looked at the darkened road and had a quick flashback to a child’s fairy tale, complete with witches and goblins hiding in the shapes of trees. “I…I’ll have to run back and take a look.”

      His face didn’t change. “No,” he said firmly.

      She blinked at his impassive look. She wasn’t used to this kind of unsympathetic opposition. It did tend to put her back up.

      “What do you mean, no? My purse is back there. Someone might pick it up. All my money and my credit cards are in there.”

      The cynical glint in his dark eyes deepened. “Listen, lady,” he said evenly. “Don’t bother to try a con on me. I’ve heard them all.”

      A con? She almost smiled. She was the last person to try to con anyone. Most of her friends thought she was much too open and forthright as it was. But she kind of liked being thought of as a latent con artist. Still, this was the police. She probably ought to take him seriously.

      “Well, I can’t prove who I am,” she told him brightly, pushing back her thick, curly hair with a casual motion that came to her naturally…and often. “But I can tell you, and you’re just going to have to take my word for it. Cami Bishop, from Marina Del Rey, California.”

      His mouth twisted. He’d obviously noted her pushing back her hair and thought it an affectation that might even border on flirting. The set of his mouth told her he didn’t succumb to flirting. “A swinging California single, no doubt,” he said, almost sneering.

      She squinted, trying to see him better. In the dark, with his hat pulled down low, all she could really make out was a hard mouth cut like a slash in granite and a pair of dark eyes that were colder than the icy wind that was making periodic raids on their position. She hesitated. Something about this man could give a girl chills.

      “That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” she said, then tried one last grin. “But basically, yes.” And even at that, she couldn’t get a smile out of him. Oh well. “Anyway, I’m on my way to this baby shower…”

      “Hold it.” Cocking his hat back, he stared at her for a long moment, then drew away from her window abruptly, as though he’d just thought of something, something that startled him.

      “What?” She blinked at him, surprised.

      “Just hold on.” he told her sternly, “I’ll get back to you.”

      Rolling up her window to keep the snow out, she lifted her gaze to the rearview mirror to watch him walk to his patrol car, stamping his boots to clear a path. Why did these guys always seem to swagger? She supposed it was meant to make peons like her stay in line. Too bad. Lines and boundaries had never been her forte.

      In a moment, he was back, and she only rolled down the window a crack this time. After all, there was a limit to the amount of snow she was going to let the wind whip in around her. It was freezing and she had no heavy coat.

      Why she’d left Santa Fe in only this medium-weight linen suit was a question she would be asking herself later on, along with many others—such as, what sort of an idiot had she been to brave the mountains on a night like this? But that was all waiting for the moment when this trip was over and she would have the luxury of second thoughts and incredulous comments. For now, basic survival seemed more important.

      “Get out of the car,” he said, his voice hard and authoritative.

      “What?” She squinted, trying to see him better. He sounded meaner than before. And here she’d been hoping for a thaw in their relationship. “It’s snowing!”

      “Get out of the car,” he ordered grimly, “face it, and spread your arms out.”

      And that was when she noticed he had his gun drawn.

      Her heart leapt into her throat. Suddenly things seemed very serious indeed. “What are you doing?” she gasped, staring down the black muzzle of the weapon.

      “Get out of the car, face it, and spread your arms out.”

      She swallowed hard. He had a bad habit of repeating himself, but she wasn’t about to call him on it now. For one split second, she considered starting up her engine and driving off as though all this had never happened. But that gun was just too ominous. And the snow was just too heavy. And most of all, his face was just too hard and cold.

      “Okay,” she said hoarsely. “Just a minute. I’m getting out.”

      She put her hands up so he could see she had nothing in them. Wasn’t that what they always did on TV? Then she stepped out, her soft leather shoes sliding a bit on the sleetcovered blacktop. She looked at him questioningly, shivering with the cold, and he gestured for her to turn.

      “Spread СКАЧАТЬ