Baby Love by Catherine Anderson Read Free Book Online

him a little of her. Not in looks or mannerisms, of course, but in the way she loved. If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never forget the look in her eyes when she'd offered him her body in trade for a bottle and formula. He had almost been able to taste her shame, BABY LOVE 39
    yet she'd made the offer without a thought for herself.
    He sighed and pressed his palm over his chest, the blunted edges of the ring digging into his flesh. If he wanted to be able to live with himself, he knew what he had to do.
    But it wasn't going to be easy.

Chapter Three
    Now that the train had stopped, the boxcar was eerily quiet Maggie had no idea exactly what time it was, but judging by the brightness of the sunlight, she guessed it was at least eight-thirty or nine. The songs of birds drifted on the frigid morning air, the sounds faint and incongruously cheerful in such a drab, filthy place. Trying to block out the faint smell of cow, she concentrated instead on scents she caught on the breeze, a wintry blend of icy dampness laced with evergreen that was underscored by the acrid odor of engine fumes.
    Huddled in the cowboy's warm coat with her back to the wall, she watched the open doorway, terrified that some bum might spy the empty car and climb inside with her. After her experience last night, she had no illusions. Most men were rats.
    Oh, God, she was tired. She had a headache, an all-over sick feeling, and her back was killing her. All she wanted was to close her eyes and sleep for a while. But Jaimie would awaken soon, and when he did, he'd be hungry. She could only pray the cowboy kept his part of their bargain and returned with a baby bottle and formula.
    She closed her eyes, picturing his tall, lean body. Hard strength emanated from him like the electrical charge in a high-voltage area. No matter. She simply wouldn't think about it, that was all. She'd just let him do his
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    thing, blocking it out as best she could, and afterward, she'd pretend none of this ever happened.
    Nausea rose in her throat. She gulped it back. She kept remembering how he had touched her cheek just before he left, his fingertips lightly caressing her skin. I've thought of a way to get my hands on some cash. Stay right here. You'll be safe for the short time I'll be gone. Maggie had yearned to add, Until you come back, you mean? Only she hadn't been able to work up the nerve.
    That was just as well. She had made him the offer. Right? No one had forced her. And she should be glad he'd decided to take her up on it. What happened to her wasn't important.
    Nothing mattered but her baby. Nothing.
    Rafe stood on the sidewalk outside the pawnshop, head bent, his shoulders shrugged against the cold as he gazed at the ring that lay on his palm. He wanted so badly to put it back on his neck chain and just keep walking. Who had elected him savior of the world?
    But though he tried, he couldn't make himself move on down the sidewalk. He kept hearing Jaimie's cries of hunger. He lifted his head and hauled in a deep breath of air so icy it nearly choked him. Kitchen exhaust from a diner emitted the scent of grilled meat on the brisk breeze, the odor almost acrid. His eyes burned as he stared through the streaked front windows of the pawnshop at the jewelry and electric guitars and doodads on display. Broken dreams. Life had a way of dealing rotten hands, and the sad stories were as varied as the people who experienced them. Now one more broken dream would lie in there on that cheap red velvet.
    Maggie's posterior nearly parted company with the floor when she heard footsteps outside the boxcar. The next instant, Kendrick appeared in the doorway, winter sunshine glancing off his black Stetson and tangled hair. He

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    cast wary glances up and down the track, checking to be sure no one had seen him, a reminder that they both could be arrested if they were caught on this train.
    A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Until now, she'd tried to