The Hand-Picked Bride. Raye Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ “Have you seen a little boy?” she called out. “My little boy is missing. Please, please, have you seen him?”

      Someone grabbed her arm and she turned to see that it was Mandy.

      “I’ll take this end of the street,” her friend told her, waving back toward the center of town. “You go the way you’re going. We’ll find him, Jolene. Don’t you worry.”

      “Don’t you worry, don’t you worry.” The words pounded in her head but she couldn’t quite grasp what they meant, because worried was all she was right now. Kevin, his sweet little face, his huge blue eyes, his devilish smile, his fat little legs...

      “He’s wearing blue overalls and a red checkered shirt,” she called out to anyone who would listen as she began to run. “He’s got to be here somewhere. Have you seen a little boy?”

      People looked up, surprised, as she passed, at first not understanding, but looking sympathetic once they realized what was going on. But no one had seen him. How could that be? She wanted to shake someone. Someone had to have seen him. He didn’t just disappear. How could he have come down this entire street and no one notice?

      “Kevin!” she called out, her voice almost breaking with despair. “Kevin, where are you?” There was a frantic fear growing in the pit of her stomach, a feeling only a mother could know. My God, where was he?

      If asked, Grant Fargo would have admitted he didn’t know much about little kids. The only child he’d been close to at all was his brother’s little girl, Allison, and she was eleven now. He could hardly remember when she’d been a toddler. At any rate, though he was no expert, as he watched the little blond boy approach, he had a pretty good idea that a child this size shouldn’t be wandering the streets by himself. There must be someone nearby attached to him, he reasoned. Some mother or baby-sitter would show up at any moment. So he didn’t pay too much attention as the kid climbed up on the stone bench beside him and began eyeing the cookie he was eating.

      “Hi,” he said to him at last, brushing a few dry crumbs from the fine Italian fabric of his suit pants leg. “What’s your name?”

      No response. But there was a glint in the blue eyes.

      “You want one of these cookies, don’t you?” Grant said conversationally. He patted the waxed paper bag beside him, tempted to offer a snack to the child, but then thought twice and hesitated. “Listen, I’d give you one, but I don’t think your mom would like it.” He held up the cookie he’d had a bite of and studied it. “You see, moms have this thing about their kids taking food from strangers....”

      Too late he learned a lesson about eighteen-month-old baby boys. They have no manners and they seldom wait to be invited to take a snack that appeals to them. One chubby little arm shot out and four fingers and a thumb plunged into the bag, grabbed hold of a cookie and shot out again. The boy gave Grant a triumphant grin and clamped down on the cookie with all four teeth.

      “Hey.” Grant glared at him, his straight, dark brows adding a stern look to his classically handsome face. He didn’t remember Allison ever acting like this. “You’d better not eat that. Before you know it, we’ll have your mother coming after me with a lawsuit for poisoning her son.” He reached out and tried to pry the cookie from the child. “Come on,” he ordered in a tone that indicated he was used to having orders obeyed. “Give it back.”

      It was surprising that a kid could let out such a loud shriek when his mouth was clamped down tightly around a cookie. But that was exactly what happened. A siren from a passing fire engine couldn’t have caused more commotion. People stopped dead and turned to look.

      “Why, look at that man,” declared a short, redheaded woman, frowning. “He’s taking a cookie away from that poor child.”

      Hearing her, Grant looked up and attempted a smile, though he was still tugging on the cookie. He tried to explain.

      “No, listen, it’s my cookie. I mean, it’s not his. I mean...”

      The redheaded woman would have none of it. She stood before the two of them with her hands on her hips. “Why, the selfishness. I never heard of such a thing before.”

      The cookie crumbled, as cookies are wont to do, and Grant drew back a handful of crumbs. More crumbs covered the bright red little face of the still shrieking child and Grant hesitated, wanting to stop the noise but wanting to explain himself to the redheaded woman and her silver-haired companion who had just arrived on the scene at the same time.

      “Look, I don’t know this child,” he began, waving his hand to try to get rid of the crumbs. “I never saw him before in my life and...”

      “Then why were you forcing him to eat that cookie?” the silver-haired woman demanded. Having come upon the scene late and noting the crumbs on the boy’s face, she’d made a quick assumption. She turned, surveying the still-gathering crowd. “Force-feeding a child. Outrageous.” Her glare was ferocious. “I think it’s time to go to the police,” she informed her friend.

      Grant blinked and shook his head as though he could clear it of this nightmare if he only shook hard enough. “No, wait. I’m trying to explain...”

      But before he could, Jolene Campbell emerged from a knot of people, saw her son and cried out, rushing to him.

      “Oh, Kevin!” she cried, grabbing him up into her arms and holding him tightly. “Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,” she muttered, tears welling in her eyes and relief making her dizzy. “Baby, baby.”

      “See, here’s his mom,” Grant said, gesturing for the benefit of the two women who still seemed to hold him in contempt of some detail of social etiquette he hadn’t quite figured out yet. “Now everything will be okay.”

      But the silver-haired woman seemed to think her duty as monitor of what went on in the streets of her town was not yet fulfilled. Stepping forward, she tapped Jolene on the shoulder.

      “My dear, is this your child?” she said still glaring at Grant. “I just think you should know. That man was forcing him to eat cookies just now. I don’t know what he thought he was doing, but the boy was struggling like anything. Honest.”

      Grant rose, clutching his bag of cookies, hoping to make a quick getaway, but Jolene whirled and stared at him, her silver eyes huge in wonder. “Why would you do that?” she asked him.

      Grant met her gaze and paused, startled by her beautiful eyes. At first glance, they seemed too silver to be real, filled with shooting stars that were only emphasized by the thick golden lashes that framed them. “What is she, a witch?” his mind whispered to him, but that was hardly relevant to the situation and he shook the thought away. Instead he eyed his escape route and tried to answer at the same time.

      “No, I wasn’t trying to make him eat it. You don’t understand. I was trying to get the cookie away from him.”

      “You see?” crowed the redhead, rolling her eyes. “Talk about taking candy from the mouths of babes. And look. He’s got a whole bag of them. You’d think he could have spared just one for the kid. Really, some people.”

      Grant groaned and Jolene frowned, looking from the woman to Grant and back again, not sure what to make of these claims. Her child was hugging her neck with both arms, but his head was turned and he was watching Grant as well. Grant caught the look. There was something about the glint in his round baby eyes....

      “Here,” СКАЧАТЬ