The Baby Track Read Online Free PDF

smiled. “Your point, Courtney.”
    His smoky smile did queer things to her insides. Electricity flowed through her, sparking her nerves as his eyes traveled over her. The sensation was both unnerving and intriguing. Part of her wanted to look away sternly, the other part wanted to gaze deeply into those cool green eyes until—
    Until what? demanded the other part of her, the non-whimsical, unromantic, reality-oriented side. Indulging in soulful stares with a smooth operator was a prescription for disaster. Her past experience with smooth operators was nonexistent, but one did not have to break a leg to know that it would hurt. The same metaphor also applied to hearts.
    “We should meet with him as soon as possible,” Connor said. “This afternoon.”
    “I can’t just pick up and leave. I have things to do—” “Put that fascinating special on the social habits of aardvarks on hold, Gypsy. We’re about to begin the most important story that National Public Broadcasting has ever produced. And maybe the only relevant one,” he added, a definite challenge in his tone.
    She should ignore it and deal with him in the unemotional, businesslike manner with which she dealt with any other potential collaborator/colleague—she knew that. He was deliberately trying to get a rise out of her; Courtney knew that, too, but found it impossible not to respond in kind.
    “I’m sick and tired of your malicious comments about NPB,” she said fiercely. “If you don’t stop making them, I’ll refuse to even consider working with you.”
    “Too late, Gypsy. You’ve already considered—and agreed to do it.” He grinned unrepentantly and handed her the uneaten portion of cheesesteak. “Now sit down and finish your lunch before we go. You’re getting awfully cranky and no wonder—you haven’t eaten since last night, remember? You have to keep up your strength.”
    “Spare me your phony concern,” snapped Courtney. “Anyway, I’ve lost my appetite. You killed it,” she couldn’t resist adding. Her dark velvet eyes clashed with his.
    A combination of instinct and experience told him that lunch was not the issue here. He read the message in her eyes. Though she might not even be aware of it, the challenge she was issuing was a feminine one. And his response was pure and primal male.
    He cupped his big hands around her shoulders and carefully, but firmly, pushed her down into the chair. “There are a few ground rules that we should get straight since we’re | going to be working together,” he said in a low, husky voice j that rolled over her like a warm wave.
    Courtney wriggled in her chair and tried to stand up, to assert her will, and most urgently, to put a safe and comfortable distance between them. His hands, still fastened on her shoulders, held her inexorably in the chair.
    “Rule number one is that when I tell you to do something, you must do it.” His voice was soft yet the edge of steel in it was unmistakable. “I’m putting myself in charge of our investigation because I’m familiar with the netherworld where dangerous rats like Wilson Nollier operate. You’ve been sheltered in your privileged ivory tower here, dealing with earnest and sincere do-gooders. You’re no match for the opportunistic sleezeballs of the world.”
    “I’m no wide-eyed innocent who can be duped. Or threatened, especially by you!” she added succinctly. She tried to rise again, this time with considerably more force.
    It was no use; her best efforts were hopeless against his masculine strength.
    “Relax, Gypsy. I’m not threatening you.” He began to knead her taut muscles with his fingers. She felt soft and delicate under his hands. His head lowered, and he accidentally brushed his chin against her sleek, dark hair. Or was it an accident? Her hair was soft and shiny and smelled wonderful. He inhaled deeply and almost closed his eyes. His head was starting to spin.
    At first, Courtney sat quiescent under his hands while