Dylan and the Baby Doctor. Sherryl Woods
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stressful. Was your husband a big help around the house?”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Paul? You have to be kidding. The only thing he did was hire a nanny, then race off to the office. I don’t know what you know about being a resident in a trauma center, but the hours are hell. Paul’s were worse. Into the office before the market opened to get a jump on things, out with clients after Wall Street closed to celebrate the victories or solidify the relationship.”
Dylan thought back to Kit’s complaints about his work habits. More than once, she had accused him of being an absent husband and father. It sounded as if in the James marriage the two of them had shared the blame.
As if she sensed his disapproval, Kelsey said, “We did the best we could.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” he said perfectly aware of the note of sarcasm that had crept into his voice.
Bright patches of color flamed in her cheeks. “You don’t approve of me, do you, Mr. Delacourt?”
Dylan was surprised that she had called him on it. So the lady had a temper, after all. And good instincts. Maybe that could work to his advantage. He’d rather have her fighting mad than docile and defeated. He deliberately shrugged. “It’s not my job to judge you,” he said, careful to imply that he did just the same. “All I care about is finding Bobby.”
After an instant’s hesitation, she nodded. “Good. Then we can agree on that, at least.”
He bit back his amusement at the tart tone. “You don’t approve of me, either, do you, doctor?”
“Honestly?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t care what sort of foul-tempered beast you are. All I care about are results. You find my son and you will earn my undying devotion.”
Dylan studied her thoughtfully. “Now there’s a thought to make a man’s heart go pitter-patter.”
“Anything to motivate you,” she retorted just as dryly.
For the first time in what had been a very grim couple of hours, Dylan actually found something to laugh about.
“You and I are going to make a helluva team, doc.”
Startled, she stared. “A team?”
He nodded. “From now on, you and I are going to stick together like glue.”
It was the only way he could think of to be sure she didn’t do something crazy to get her son back.
Chapter Three
Even as the words came out of his mouth, even as he mentally tried to justify them, Dylan cursed himself for the impulsive suggestion that he and Kelsey team up. Wasn’t it enough that he was already operating cheek-by-jowl with a sheriff? Now he wanted to add an amateur into the mix. He was breaking every one of his long-standing, ironclad rules tonight.
Maybe it was because she’d purposely baited him, deliberately tried to establish boundaries. Hell, he liked boundaries. Loved them. And now he was pushing at them as if he couldn’t wait to see them topple.
Oh, he recognized it for what it was. It was a male-female thing and this was definitely not a male-female situation. This was a job and he did not involve amateurs, especially clients, in his work. They lacked skill and objectivity, damned dangerous shortages. There went another hard-and-fast rule. Obviously, he’d lost it. He figured it had to be the eyes. He was a sucker for sad, sea-green eyes.
Truthfully, though, Kelsey didn’t seem any more pleased by the idea than he was. In fact, she looked shocked.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, regarding him with justifiable wariness.
He decided to back off in a hurry, just for the moment, not as if he were running scared, but just to establish a few of his own boundaries. There were things she could do to help…just not in the same place he was heading.
“Right now I’m going to the police station to run some checks. I want you to sit tight here. Make a list of questions to ask your ex when he calls. If he puts Bobby on the line, even for a second, ask what he’s had to eat. Maybe he’ll say something about a burger place we can trace or maybe he’ll mention a specific diner. Ask what the room looks like or what he can see. Kids notice more than we give them credit for. And in case your husband is listening, try to make it sound as if you’re just interested in hearing how Bobby’s getting along. Know what I mean?”
Chin up, she nodded. “I think so. Post-preschool conversation, right? The sort of thing we’d talk about over milk and cookies?”
“Bingo. You catch on quick.”
“Believe me, I am highly motivated.” For an instant she looked lost again and very, very frightened. “I can’t mess this up. I just can’t.”
Dylan tried to steel himself against the sympathy he was feeling. Still, he couldn’t seem to prevent himself from giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You won’t. You’re doing fine, Kelsey.”
She was, too. He was impressed with her despite himself. She was bright and tough. Love for her son, concern for him, radiated from her, but she hadn’t allowed herself to give in to hysterics except for that one brief moment after her ex-husband’s call. Nor was she giving in to Dylan’s pressure to reveal whatever secret she was determined to keep. He didn’t like it, but he had to admire her tenacity in clinging to whatever misguided principle she felt was so important.
He figured, though, that he’d gotten everything from her he could for the moment. He needed some distance to sort through what he’d learned, put it into perspective, and maybe get some cold, hard facts about Paul James from the computer at the sheriff’s office.
“Want me to clear out some of these people before I go?” he asked.
She shook her head. “They just want to help. Lizzy will get them out later.”
Another woman who could manage a small nation if she put her mind to it, he thought wryly. Lizzy had the Adams strength, as well as the family’s fierce loyalty and protectiveness. He was definitely leaving Kelsey in good hands.
He ripped a piece of paper from his notebook and jotted down his beeper number. “If anything turns up, if you get another call, if you think of something, or if you just need to talk, call me.”
She took the paper, holding it as tightly as if it were a lifeline. “Thank you.”
“Get busy on those questions,” he reminded her. “Be ready, in case he calls back.”
“I will.”
Dylan found himself fighting an odd reluctance to go. He knew there were better uses for his time, but he wanted to stay right here, offer whatever comfort he could. But Kelsey didn’t need comfort from him. She needed his help in finding her son.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said and headed for the door, tucking his notebook into his back pocket as he went.
At the small but well-equipped sheriff’s office, he was greeted by the dispatcher, who’d clearly been expecting him.
“Justin said you could use anything you need,” Becky told him. “The computer’s in his office. We’ve got several lines, so you won’t be tying things up if you need to make calls. Don’t worry about charges since you’re making ’em as part of a case we’re handling. You need anything, holler. There’s coffee in here by me. It’s strong and there’s plenty of it.”
“Thanks. I think I will have a cup. It could be a long night.”
She poured it into a mug and handed it to him, then grinned. “Part of the service this time. After this, you’re on your own.” She winced as the radio screeched static. “Whoops! Got to go. I swear Billy Ray does that just to shoot my nerves to hell.”
Dylan