A Billionaire and a Baby. Marie Ferrarella
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Joanna nodded at the information. “I’ve never seen anything written up about him. From what I’ve heard, he’s really closemouthed.” She glanced at Chris for confirmation. “Maybe he’s got some skeletons in his closet.”
Why else would someone be that secretive, Sherry wondered, nodding. She glanced again toward the doorway. No Rusty. “That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Well, if it makes a difference, none of them have gotten there by foul play. At least,” Chris qualified, “not to the Bureau’s knowledge.” She stopped and nodded toward the doorway. “Hey, there’s your coach.”
Without waiting for Sherry to turn around, Chris raised her hand and waved at the short, wiry man until he saw her. Raising a hand in response, he waved back and made his way over to the small, tight group.
Sherry sidled over to make room for him. Jerome Russell Thomas had been the first person to learn about her pregnancy, before her parents, even before Drew. They’d been out on a rare field assignment together, trying to corral a statement from a high-seated judge who had been brought up on bribery charges when she’d had to excuse herself. She’d barely made it to the ladies’ room in time before her lunch, breakfast and whatever might have been left of her dinner the night before came up unceremoniously.
When she’d emerged from the ladies’ room ten minutes later, sweaty and slightly green, Rusty was waiting for her just outside the door. One look at her and he’d asked her how far along she was. Her heated denial was short-lived in the face of his gruff kindness.
“My kid sister was the same shade of green that you are with her first,” he’d told her matter-of-factly. “Couldn’t keep anything down, not even water. Only thing she lived on was mashed potatoes and beef Stroganoff. You might want to try some.”
Rusty had also stood by her when Drew had decided to pull his disappearing act on her and had been there for her when the studio had all but given her the bum’s rush.
Having shown his true colors through the hard times, Rusty had seemed like the logical choice to be her coach. When she’d asked him, Rusty had protested vehemently at first, telling her that she would be far more comfortable if she had a woman as her coach. That he would be far more comfortable if she had a woman as her coach.
But Sherry had remained adamant, insisting she wanted him, and finally, he’d given in and agreed, grumbling all the way. She’d expected nothing less of him.
“Sorry I’m late. Had to fight off a horde of women at my door to get here,” he cracked.
Given the truth of the matter, the only female in his life, other than the ones he worked with, was his dog, Blanca. Sherry didn’t waste any time commenting on his fanciful excuse. Instead, the moment he dropped down beside her, she hit him with her question.
“What do you know about St. John Adair?”
Accustomed to her abrupt, greetingless greetings, Rusty paused to think.
“What everyone else knows. That he’s one of the richest son-of-a-bitches around. I don’t trust a man who looks that comfortable in a suit in ninety degree weather.” Rusty never cracked a smile. “There’s talk he’s the devil. Why?”
She watched Lori work her way to the front of the room. They were getting ready to start. “Owen’s giving me a crack at an investigative story.”
Rusty filled in the blanks. It wasn’t hard. He looked at her stomach, his meaning clear. “Couldn’t he have started you out on something easier? Like finding out where Jimmy Hoffa’s buried?”
Sherry shifted slightly. As if that could hide something. “Easy doesn’t put you on the map.”
He shrugged carelessly. “Neither does coming up to a dead end.”
She didn’t buy that. Although Lori was saying something to the gathering, Sherry lowered her voice, doing her best to appeal to Rusty. “You know everything there is to know about everything, including where all the bodies are buried. Tell me how I can get to him for a few minutes where he can’t get away. Other than an elevator,” she added.
“You always did know how to flatter a guy.” It was a tall order, but not anything he wasn’t up to. There was very little he wouldn’t do for Sherry. In the vernacular of the old-timers who had taught him his trade, he considered Sherry Campbell one hell of a broad. “Okay, I’ll see what I can dig up for you, although it probably won’t be very much.”
Sherry got herself into position, ready to begin. “At this point, I’ll settle for anything. I tried to corner him in the elevator but I couldn’t get anything out of him.”
“Any man who can say no to you just isn’t human.”
Touched, Sherry leaned over and kissed Rusty’s leathery cheek. “Thanks, Rusty. I needed that.”
Rusty tried not to blush. “Shhh.” He pointed to Lori. “Teacher’s talking. You’ll miss something.”
She was still smiling at him. “I’ll always have you to fill me in.”
Rusty’s blush deepened beneath the bronzed, craggy suntan.
Chapter Three
“Ladies, I have a confession to make.”
Lori sank her long-handled spoon into the mound of whip cream atop her fudge-ripple sundae before looking up at the other three women seated with her in the ice-cream parlor booth.
The establishment, decorated to resemble something straight out of the early fifties, provided an informal atmosphere where they could each give voice to the concerns that were troubling them, concerns about the way their lives were about to everlastingly change because of the heart that beat beneath their own. It was something they all looked forward to far more than the classes that were to ready them for the upcoming big event.
“Let me guess,” Chris interjected, deadpan. “You’re not really a Lamaze instructor, you’re actually an international spy.” Not being able to hold it back any longer, Chris grinned as she glanced around at the others. “Sorry, occupational habit. I’ve been bringing my work home with me a lot.”
Joanna nodded knowingly. “Trust no one, right?” A healthy spoonful of cookie-dough ice cream punctuated her declaration.
Chris acknowledged how good it felt to laugh about her work. So much of it revolved around darker elements. “That’s only a rule of thumb when you’re checking out aliens on Sunday nights, Joanna.”
Sherry leaned forward. They were meandering again. That was usually a good thing as far as their conversations went, but Lori looked as if she had to get something off her chest. “What’s your big news, Lori?”
Lori let her spoon all but disappear into the dessert. Sherry noted that, unlike the rest of them, Lori had hardly eaten any of hers. A distant bell went off in her head, but for now she kept her suspicions on ice.
“Well,” Lori blew out a breath, “I don’t know if it’s big—” She hesitated.
Chris