Baby On The Run. Kate Little

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СКАЧАТЬ Merry Christmas,” Ben said, cutting off the connection.

      Ben shook his head, staring straight ahead at the road. Carey thought he looked embarrassed by all the praise. Did she see a slight flush on his lean cheeks, or was it just the cold?

      “Satisfied?” he asked finally.

      “You sound like the star of the police force.”

      “Possibly… There are only five of us.”

      A smile flashed over his rugged features and he met her glance for a moment. She had to smile back. The car suddenly felt very close and dark and…intimate. She took a breath and looked out her window.

      “How far to your house?” she asked.

      “We’re almost there,” he said quietly.

      That was good news. She was eager to put some distance between herself and her handsome rescuer.

      A few moments later, he turned off the road, into a narrow lane. Tree branches, weighed down with snow, arched over the vehicle, creating a frosty tunnel.

      The car bumped and struggled through the deep snow, though Ben didn’t seem to notice or have any concern that they might get stuck.

      Finally a house came into view, a small, neat cabin that appeared to be made of logs, with a covered porch and a sloping, snow-covered roof and stone chimney. The windows in front had wooden shutters and window boxes.

      Tall graceful pines surrounded the cabin, their covered branches glistening. Carey was reminded of a house in a picture book; in the darkness and snow, it seemed magical.

      “Is that a real log cabin?” she asked as the car came to a stop.

      “Yes, it is. Built it myself. With a little help from my friends,” he added.

      “Quite an accomplishment.” She glanced at him. “I’m surprised your boss forgot to mention it.”

      She smiled at him and he smiled back in a slow way that sent a tingle racing up her spine.

      “Good point. I’ll remind him.” He turned to her. “Let’s get inside and warm up.”

      Ben jumped out first and retrieved her belongings from the cargo area. Carey jumped out and took Lindsay.

      As she carefully stepped through the high snow toward the door, she felt Ben’s strong, steady grasp on her arm. She glanced at him, but he didn’t say anything. Just stood by her until she was up on the porch.

      He dropped the load of bags and unlocked the front door, then switched on some lights. A big shaggy dog bounded down the stairs, barking furiously. Carey was glad Ben had given her a warning.

      “This must be Dixie,” she said, bending forward to let the dog smell her hand.

      “How did you guess?” He didn’t laugh out loud but his blue eyes sparkled. Carey felt a tingling in her chest.

      “Dixie…down. Where are your manners?” The big dog immediately sat, staring up at Ben with adoring brown eyes.

      He has a way with women. I hope I’m not looking at him like that, Carey thought.

      Dixie sat stiffly, her tail beating the floor. She looked to Carey like a cross between an Australian shepherd…and a pony. But she liked dogs and though this one was doubtlessly curious, she did look friendly.

      Ben held on to Dixie’s collar while she strained to sniff Carey and say hello. Carey patted the dog’s head. Her fur was incredibly soft.

      “Hey, Dixie. How are you? I’m sorry if we woke you up,” she said softly. “She’s sweet,” she said to Ben.

      “She’s a big mush. Once you get to know her. She’s probably wondering what you’re doing here. I don’t have many visitors.”

      Not many visitors? She imagined this guy had women stacked up at the door, right next to the woodpile. Maybe he was the type who always stayed at the woman’s place. So he could make a quick getaway in the morning.

      He opened the door and the dog bounded outside. “Just make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a while. Dixie needs some exercise.”

      He left the house, closing the door behind him and Carey was suddenly left alone with Lindsay, which was just as well. There was plenty of baby maintenance to perform—a diaper change, a bottle, pajamas, if she could find them.

      She gazed around, trying to get her bearings. She stood at the entrance to a large, open living room with a stone fireplace on the far wall. The wide pine plank floor was polished to a mellow glow and covered by woven area rugs.

      A long, comfortable-looking couch, covered with kilim pillows, and two big armchairs were arranged in the living room, near the hearth.

      In the corner, by a window, she saw a mission-style desk, covered with papers and stacks of books, a laptap in the middle of the mess. All in all, a totally masculine, somewhat messy decor, yet at the same time, very homey looking.

      Adjoining the living room, a dining area with a wooden table and ladder-back chairs was separated from the kitchen by an open counter space. There were open rafters across most of the ceiling, which added to the house’s rustic feeling.

      Carey set the baby down on the couch and took off her jacket, then took off the baby’s snowsuit. She found the baby bag and changed Lindsay’s diaper. Then she carried her into the kitchen, where she fixed a bottle and heated it in a microwave.

      The overstuffed armchairs in front of the fireplace proved as comfortable as they looked. Carey sat with Lindsay in her arms, the baby’s body growing as heavy and relaxed as a rag doll as she contentedly sucked down her bottle.

      When Lindsay was finished, Carey put the bottle aside, coaxed a burp from her little girl. Then she sat back and gently rocked the baby, cradled against her shoulder.

      Lindsay’s eyes grew heavy with sleep. She seemed perfectly content. It was always amazing to Carey how flexible babies were. How oblivious. The little girl had no idea of what had nearly happened tonight, how they had come within a heartbeat of being seriously hurt. And she had no notion that they were once again on the run.

      Maybe someday she’d tell her daughter what they had been through this past year. When Lindsay was all grown-up and could understand. Carey only hoped when that day came, their lives would be peaceful and happy. Could that ever be? she wondered.

      A fleece throw hung on the back of the armchair and Carey slipped it around her shoulders. The house was cozy and warm, but she still felt chilled to her bones and was practically shivering. Still in shock maybe, she realized. And suddenly exhausted, all the adrenaline draining from her body.

      She’d been in a panic mode for hours; first, running from Vermont and then, shaken up by the accident. A shudder raced through her slim form. She and Lindsay had been lucky. Maybe Ben Martin had been right. Maybe the snowstorm had been fortunate. One of those things that at first seems an obstacle but turns out to be good luck in disguise?

      Her eyes drifted closed, the snug blanket around her shoulders recalling the feeling of Ben’s СКАЧАТЬ