Baby Kisses Page 2

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  Tooty looked at him with round eyes and a scarlet face.

  He frowned and read the email. "Oh, shit!" Reaching across her, he hit the delete button.

  Neither one of them said anything.

  Miles broke the silence. "Sometimes I get crap like that. Sorry you had to see it. Luckily, it doesn't happen too often."

  Tooty nodded and willed her blush to go away. She willed the erotic images planted in her mind to disappear, too. Miles started explaining more about her duties and she forced herself to concentrate. Finally, he returned to the living room and left her to sort through his voluminous emails.

  At exactly eleven, she tidied up and then walked to the living room. "It's time for me to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Miles had his wheelchair pulled to an antique desk with his back to her and he was absorbed in whatever he was typing.

  "Miles?" she said timidly when he didn't respond.

  He lifted one finger indicating she should wait.

  She shifted on her feet. At last, he rotated his wheelchair to look at her. "So, how was your first day?"

  "I think I can handle it."

  "Great. I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Okay. Bye." An image from the nasty email jumped into her mind and she made a hasty exit.

  Chapter 3: Promotion

  After the first week, Tooty felt comfortable in her duties as personal assistant to a famous author. Sometimes she wanted to pinch herself to see if she'd wake up. For her, reading had always been an escape from life's challenges and she'd certainly had her share in her twenty years.

  Sitting beside Harris, she read the last page of his favorite book, Restoring Tween Time, and then tucked him in. His eyes had already drifted shut. "I love you, baby." She kissed his cherub cheek and knew that even if she could, she'd never change the fact that she'd born a child out of wedlock at the age of sixteen. Harris was her heart. He meant everything to her. Too bad his father was such a jerk.

  Flopping across her bed, she turned her lamp off and stared at the ceiling. If Julie hadn't been trick riding at the Montezuma County Rodeo, Harris would not have been conceived. That's where she'd met Laramie Walker, or as he was known on the rodeo circuit, Lucky Larry. Tooty grinned at the ceiling; her son was gonna be handsome just like his father. Only Harris would be a "looker" with character. Lucky Larry was a selfish prick. At the time, she'd only been his flavor of the night, and when she'd contacted him to let him know she was pregnant, he'd told her she was barking up the wrong tree and to have her lawyer contact his. Of course, she'd been devastated, but now she was glad she'd never legally pursued him. Harris was all hers.

  Sighing, she dreamed about her future. If she could just gain fulltime employment, she could look for a little house for her and Harris. Living with her parents was difficult. She appreciated that they allowed her and Harris to stay with them, but they were always so critical. Her dad was old school and had almost cast her out of the house when she'd finally told him she was pregnant. Her mother had kept that from happening, but had harangued her ever since about being a "loose" woman. Even to this day, she got her jabs in. Living with her parents was a paradox. They loved and doted on Harris, but never let her forget she was a "fallen" woman.

  Not feeling sleepy, she flipped her lamp back on and walked to the closet to retrieve her special box. Sitting Indian style in the middle of her bed, she opened it and lifted the top sheet of paper with her latest poem. Reaching back in the box she picked up her favorite pen and tapped it against her chin while rereading the first stanza.

  His eyes, the color of love

  Paint my soul with living shades

  He is the shadow of my dreams

  He knows me as no other

  Will I ever meet him?

  After pondering a few minutes, she tried writing the next stanza, but scratched through the words. Searching her soul for inspiration, she finally wrote.

  Do miles separate us?

  Or is he the bright star in my backyard?

  Is he fey?

  Or is he man?

  She reread the stanza. I like it.

  * * *

  Miles watched Tooty's old pickup pull up in front of the cottage. The girl really needed better transportation. The vehicle backfired in a puff of smoke when she turned it off. He rolled to the front door and opened it.

  "Good morning, Tooty."

  "Good morning, sir."

  Miles flinched at the greeting. It made him feel ancient.

  The grin on her face piqued his curiosity. "What's up? You're smiling like a Cheshire cat."

  Her grin widened and changed her average face into a pretty one. She had beautiful teeth. "Oh, when I dropped Harris off with Sarah, I found out that Jackson Martinez and Ann Hackstetter ran off to Las Vegas a couple weeks ago and got married. I've been rooting for them to get together ever since I saw them dancing at Jacob and Julie's reception." She stepped past him and into the living room.

  Miles said, "You knew they should be together just by watching them dance?"

  "Oh, yeah. It was like watching the best romance movie. You know, two people in love and not acknowledging it. They were like…like…so into each other."

  Miles laughed, "Tooty, maybe you should be writing romance novels." He watched her turn a lovely shade of pink which made her dusting of freckles stand out.

  "Well, guess I'll get to work." She hurried toward the office.

  Miles watched her retreating back and his eyes dipped to admire her cute butt before he realized it. Jerking his wheelchair around, he pushed to his desk and fired up his laptop.

  After an hour he felt frustrated with what he'd been working on for the past few days. The escape scene sounded stiff and contrived. Rolling to the office doorway, he saw Tooty biting her lower lip and the sight made him horny. God, Miles, she's barely out of her teens. You need to get back to New York and give Monica a call. She looked up and his heart thumped.

  "Are there a lot of emails?" he asked.

  "Yeah. Mostly from people excited about the upcoming sequel to the Mac Righteous Series."

  "You said once that you've read all my books. Did you like that series?"

  Tooty's eyes got big. "You betcha. I'm looking forward to the new one, too."

  "I'm happy to hear that because I have another project for you. I want you to read one of the scenes from the new book and tell me what's lacking. I can't seem to get it right."

  "Really?!"

  "Yes, really. Come with me."

  An hour later, Miles had his wheelchair pulled to his desk pretending to write. He kept stealing glances at Tooty sitting on the couch. Hell, why's it taking her an hour to read twenty pages. Maybe she's a slow reader.

  * * *

  Tooty chewed on the inside of her cheek. She'd read the escape scene five times. It needed some serious reworking, but how could she tell Miles in a nice way. On most days he was cranky and solitary. She glanced up to see him watching her.

  "Well?" he asked impatiently.

  "Umm, I…I think you've made a good start."

  "But…"

  "Umm…"

  "Tooty, just say what's on your mind. I didn't get to where I am without criticism."

  "Okay." She inhaled deeply. "I think the scene comes off as being contrived; you know, made to fit the plot. I was thinking that instead of them getting away clean, it would be more exciting if they got caught, roughed up, escaped, and…and…"

  "Yes…"

  "Made love."

  Miles groaned. "Tooty, was I right about you being a romantic?"

  "Well, yes, but that has nothing to do with your book. I've read all your books and loved them, but…but I think if you added more romance, you'd increase your audience. Now, Mac is a great character, but he's predictable. Kind of a Sherlock Holmes on steroids. He needs someone to take him off kilter…shake him up. Make his heart pound. And I think this scene would be dynamite for doing that. I'd love to read about�
�" she paused.

  "Tooty, you have me on the edge of my seat. You'd love to read what?"

  In a rush, she said, "How staunch Mac makes love. Especially, now that he and Anja are hiding out in some dingy abandoned warehouse not knowing if they'll live another day. If you were in dire circumstances and maybe about to die, wouldn't you want to experience passion with someone who trips your heart?"

  Miles looked at her dumbfounded.

  She glanced at her watch. "Well, looks like it's time to go. I'm taking Harris to buy one of the horses in that hot new line of toys, Happy Horses. See you tomorrow." She laid the pages on the coffee table and rushed from the house.

  * * *

  Miles watched Tooty's truck speed away…well, clunk away. God, he hated that truck. Wheeling to the table, he picked up the manuscript. Damn, he wished he hadn't asked for her opinion. She'd had his heart pounding by the time she'd finished her review of his work—Tooty Townsend, impoverished girl, unwed mother, and now critic of bestselling author Maxwell Henry. Crap.

  Chapter 4: Certified Delivery

  Tooty pulled into the driveway of her parents' small clapboard home a few blocks off Main Street. Just as she reached to unlatch Harris from his seat belt, her mother rushed onto the front porch waving something. She rolled down her window. "What's up, Mom?"

  "The postman just dropped off this slip. He said you have certified registered mail and you have to sign for it personally. Might as well head over to the post office and see what it is."

  "Hi, Grammy." Harris leaned toward Tooty's window.

  "Hi, punkin pie. You wanna stay with me while your mother goes to the post office?"

  "Okay. Did you make cookies?"

  "I sure did—your favorites, too."

  Grace Townsend walked around the truck and helped Harris out of his seat, giving him a loud, smacking kiss. Tooty sighed and backed out of the driveway. Why couldn't her mother turn some of that affection on her own daughter?

  At the post office she waited in line behind Mrs. Doolittle who was sipping an iced coffee confection from Dixie's Cuppa Joe. Tooty said, "That looks delicious. What is it?"

  "It's called a CinnaBomb. I think it's my favorite so far. You should try one."

  "Oh, I will." Yeah, if I ever get an extra few bucks.

  Mrs. Doolittle walked to the counter. After she painstakingly perused several nature scene stamps, she finally bought a roll and waved goodbye to Tooty. The mail clerk said, "Hi, Tooty. Guess you're here for that big envelope."

  "Yeah. I don't know what it is, but here's the notice Mr. Hornblower left with my mom."

  Patty, the clerk for as long as Tooty could remember, walked behind a partition and returned with a thick envelope. "Sorry, but I have to ask for your ID."

  "No problem." Tooty opened her purse and pulled out her driver's license.

  Patty didn't even glance at it. "Sign here."

  Tooty signed and when she turned to leave, Patty said, "You be sure and let me know if you won a million dollars."

  Tooty laughed. "I surely will."

  Back in her truck, she looked at the return address—a legal firm in Denver. Jeez, nothing good comes from attorneys. With shaking hands she tore the top of the envelope open and lifted the many pages out. She read the cover page.

  Dear Ms. Townsend,

  I am writing this letter to offer my condolences on the death of your distant relative, Beatrice Shipley. Our firm was retained by Ms. Shipley a few years ago to prepare her will. It was Ms. Shipley's desire that when she died, you would inherit her ranch house, outbuildings, and associated twenty acres. Said property is located in the County of La Plata in Colorado.

  Tooty dropped the pages in her lap. Huh? She grabbed them back up and reread every word. There were attachments to the letter: a copy of the will, deeds, map, surveyor descriptions, and other documents having to do with the property. The letter ended by asking her to call and make an appointment with the attorney to sign documents and pick up her key.

  Tooty drove home in a daze. She only remembered meeting Beatrice once, shortly after Harris was born. The old woman had come to her parents' house explaining that she was distantly related to them. She'd crooned over Harris while holding him in her bony arms. As she was leaving, she'd hugged Tooty and whispered, "You're the one." At the time, Tooty hadn't understood what she'd meant. She'd figured the woman was just old and her mind wandered. Now she understood.

  The stop light turned red and she braked suddenly. Across the intersection, Billy Bob Reid in his police car wagged a finger at her. She grinned sheepishly and slowly drove past him when the light changed. A couple of minutes later she pulled into her driveway and grabbed the papers. Stepping out of her truck, she looked at the beautiful blue sky and shouted, "Yes!"

  Chapter 5: Rewrite

  Miles made a last minute change to the manuscript Tooty had criticized two days previous. She'd called him the morning after and explained that she needed the day off because of an out-of-town emergency. When he'd asked if everything was alright, she'd laughed, "More than alright." After hanging up, he'd continued writing the scene that had kept him up half the night. He couldn't believe he was writing a love fest in a dilapidated warehouse that might be the last act of passion his hero and heroine ever experienced.

  That evening he'd reread what he'd written and smiled. It was good—really good. Tooty had been right.

  Now he showered and shaved and nervously wondered what her reaction would be. Precisely at nine, she tapped on the door with a patterned knock. Tap–tap tap tap tap tap–tap tap. He opened it to one of the happiest faces he'd ever seen.

  "Hello Miles," she said gaily, and skipped past him, heading to the bedroom office.

  Something's up. He rolled his chair behind her and watched from the doorway.

  She glanced up. "Do you need something?"

  "About that scene in my book we were discussing…"

  "Oh, maybe I was wrong. You're the author, you–"

  "I rewrote it."

  Her eyes got big. "You rewrote it? Because of what I said?"

  He didn't respond directly to her question. "Do you want to read it?"

  "Does a cow give milk?"

  Miles grinned. "Come back in the living room."

  After Tooty settled on the couch, he handed her the pages. "Read it aloud so I can judge the effect and decide on any changes."

  "Okay."

  Grabbing Anja's hand, Mac pulled her into the dark, dank, and musty room. Sunlight barely filtered through years of buildup on the one window. Pulling off his jacket, he placed it on the floor for her. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

  "No. I'll go with you."

  "I'm only going to barricade the door. I'm not leaving." Gently, he pushed her to the floor. In the dim light he could see lines of worry furrowing her brow and he had an overwhelming desire to fan his hand over her forehead, making the lines disappear like a magician. Instead, he left her and scanned the room for something to block the door. Finding a rusted pipe, he shoved it under the handle and then pulled an empty barrel and dilapidated office desk in front of the entrance.

  He returned to Anja. "We're safe for now. No one knows to look for us here. But, just in case, we can leave through the window if someone tries to come through the door. And, I have this." He pulled his Glock from his shoulder harness and set in on the ground in front of him when he sat beside her. "We'll leave at nightfall and cross the river. The border's about twenty miles." He was hoping his words would encourage her. Maybe speaking the words would encourage him, too. He'd been in tough situations before, but this was one of the worst."

  Tooty looked up. "I really like this!"

  He nodded and she continued reading.

  Anja gave him a weak smile and seemed to relax a little.

  "Lay your head on my lap and get some sleep." He patted his thighs.

  After a second's hesitation, she moved closer and lowered her head. In the dim light, he watched her hair flow out—strawb
erry blond hair that curled around his legs. Unable to stop himself, he touched her beautiful tresses, smoothing the back of his fingers across their silkiness. Her eyes never left his. Slowly, she lifted her hand to touch the stubble on his jaw. He couldn't breathe. Never had he felt such passion, such desire.

  Slipping his arm under her shoulders, he lifted her to his mouth. Her lips were sweet and warm and she was the only person who existed in his world. He had to have her—all of her.

  Tooty stumbled in the reading and turned pink.

  Miles felt her unease and said, "Uh, guess you can read the rest of it to yourself and let me know what you think."

  "Oh, okay."

  The relief in her voice spoke volumes. She might have a four year old son, but he had a feeling she was as innocent as a babe. He rolled to his desk, but kept a surreptitious eye on her. When she turned crimson, he knew she was reading the consummation of the love scene.

  She put the pages down and sighed.

  He waited a few seconds and then asked, "Better than before?"

  She turned luminous eyes on him. "Oh, yes. This book is going to sell like hotcakes. Women, young and old, rich and poor, are gonna buy the book just to read that scene." She paused and then said, "OMG, and this is gonna be made into a movie. There'd better be smelling salts handy."

  "Tooty, you are so funny. I appreciate the praise, but I hardly think that's going to happen."

  "Ha, then you don't know women very well. Actually, after reading that scene, I take that back. You do know women."

  Miles choked. Now it was his turn to blush. Changing the subject, he asked, "Are you going to tell me what that big grin was all about when you walked in?" She got that grin again.

  "Okay. I've just got to share my news. I got this letter from an attorney. You'll never guess what happened…"

  He waited.

  "I inherited a ranch house and twenty acres from a distant relative! Now Harris and I will have our own place!"