Borrowed Baby by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page A

about for a solution.
    "How much is your weekend rate?"
    Liz was about to lead the way to her bedroom. His inquiry, out of the blue, made her stop in her tracks. She looked at his face, trying to read what was going on behind that strong, impenetrable exterior. She thought she discerned a flash of apprehension in his eyes before the curtain went down again. He was probably one hell of a poker player. "I don't have a weekend rate."
    The wail from the bedroom became more urgent. So did his thoughts. "Would you consider—"
    Griff stopped. He was panicking. He had never done that, not in all his years on the force. Not since he was a child. What was the matter with him? Casie was, after all, only a six-month-old baby. Besides, he was sure that Sally would be coming back as soon as she fully realized what she had done. There was no reason to feel this apprehensive about the matter.
    Liz could sense the feelings he was experiencing, or at least she thought she could. Her face softened and she smiled encouragingly at him. In a gesture meant to comfort, she put her hand on his shoulder.
    "There's nothing to it, Griff. And you can call me anytime if you run into trouble."
    She felt the muscle beneath her hand become rigid. Now what had she said wrong? she wondered in mounting exasperation. Here she was offering to help and he was acting as if she was about to embark on a crime spree. She couldn't decide whether he was just a clumsy, helpless male who was rather sweet and definitely out of his element, or a total neanderthal type whom she could wash her hands of completely.
    But then, she knew she couldn't do that. She had never abandoned anything that needed help, not even that mean-spirited dog she had found on the way home from school when she was a child. In a way, Griff reminded her of that dog. The German shepherd hadn't trusted anyone either and it had taken a lot of patience, understanding and loving on her part before she finally brought the dog around. But once she had, he'd stayed with her for the duration of his life, giving her his undying loyalty.
    A simple "thank you" would have sufficed here, she thought, then wondered how Griff would react to being compared to a dog. She had a hunch she knew. It made her grin again.
    He didn't need pity or someone talking to him as if he were some bumbling idiot, although he grudgingly thought that the description might have fit in this instance.
    "I can handle it from here. It'll be all right." Griff stood abruptly. The chair legs scraped against the kitchen floor as he backed up.
    It sounded more like a command. "Plan to hold a gun on her if she doesn't follow orders?" Liz asked, her eyes dancing.
    He couldn't decide if she was laughing at him or not, so he said nothing. Instead, he turned and walked to Liz's bedroom.
    When he opened the door he saw that the room wasn't what he had expected. Somehow, he thought things would be scattered around, a testimony to the whirling dervish who normally slept there. Instead, the room, done in pale blues, grays and whites, echoed of softness, of womanliness. It made him acutely aware of the fact that he had been neglecting a very healthy, demanding part of himself.
    Impatiently, he dismissed his thoughts.
    Turning, he found her right behind him, so close that all he had to do was lean forward to kiss her. For a moment, he thought he was going to. In one unguarded moment he almost went with an impulse in stead of leading with his mind. Leading with his mind had always been the safest route for him. Emotions, yearnings, those were things to keep locked away. They formed attachments and attachments formed trouble. He couldn't get hurt if he left no openings in the fence around him.
    He struggled with himself and won.
    She felt it, felt the tension, the electricity, perhaps even the warring factions he was enduring. They certainly matched her own. She held her breath, her eyes on his, willing him to make that first move. She found that she was more