Free The Great Baby Caper by Eugenia Riley Page B

financially.”
    “Ah. Sorry if I sounded glib
there.”
    “Apology accepted. What my sisters
are doing is fine for them. But my point is, if you can’t devote yourself to
your partner and your children, then you have no business getting married in
the first place.”
    “An interesting perspective.”
    “You disagree?”
    “I tend to think one can have it
all.”
    She stared him straight in the
eye. “That’s because you’re a man, Mark.”
    He laughed. “Oh, Courtney. You are
delightful.”
    As yet another blush scorched her
face, Courtney lowered her gaze. The truth was, he was delightful, too. And
while she hated to admit it, Mark Billingham was already getting under her skin
. . .

Chapter
Seven
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    After dinner, Courtney walked with
Mark along the levee, watching passengers disembark from the steamboat Natchez , just docked after its nightly dinner cruise. The air was balmy and sweet,
still scented of rain.
    “Oh, the Mississippi is glorious
tonight!” Courtney exclaimed.
    He followed her gaze across the
wide gleaming waterway, to the beautifully lit bridge to Algiers in the
distance. “It is indeed lovely. You know the Thames can sometimes have that
kind of glow on a really clear spring night.” He reached out and took her hand.
“Have you ever seen London, Courtney?”
    It seemed so natural, his taking
her hand that way, and she hadn’t the heart to pull away, especially not with
the new surge of excitement sweeping through her at his warm touch. She
struggled to keep her voice casual. “Yes, my high school class went to Paris and London for our senior trip.”
    “That must have been some trip.”
    She laughed. “Three years of car
washes and bake sales, plus our parents still had to chip in a bunch. But it
was worth it. London is a beautiful city, with so much history. You must adore
living there.”
    “Having grown up there, I tend to take
a lot for granted. The States I find interesting, though. Very brash and
contemporary.”
    “Especially compared with stodgy
old England?”
    “Indeed. New Orleans provides a
nice contrast—it’s free flowing, unrushed, unbridled . . . rather sensual,
don’t you think?”
    The word “sensual” slammed
Courtney straight in the gut. She struggled to remain outwardly cool. “You’re
right, it’s different here. More erot—I mean, exotic .”
    He smiled at her little slip of
tongue, pausing by a daiquiri stand along the levee, where several couples were
lined up to get drinks. “Thirsty?”
    Even though she was still feeling
a slight buzz from the liquor consumed at dinner, Courtney decided what the
heck. This was New Orleans, after all. “Sure, I could use another.”
    After Mark bought their drinks,
they sipped them as they descended the levee, crossed the street, and entered Jackson Square, a stand of ancient, moonlit oaks guarding the historic cathedral, the
Cabildo and the Presbytere in the distance. Along the old stone buildings flanking
each side of the square were gathered clumps of people listening to street
musicians, drinking at patio tables, or waiting for tarot card readings. A few
feet away from Mark and Courtney, a black trumpeter was belting out a jazz
version of “Rock of Ages.”
    “That music is divine,” she
murmured.
    As they passed the man, Mark
stepped away to drop several dollars into his musician’s case. Moving back to
her side, he slipped an arm around her and nodded toward the square. “Look
there, love.”
    She glanced toward the oaks just
as the wind did its silvery dance through the lofty tree leaves. Then, directly
ahead of them along the iron fence line, she spotted a young couple locked in
an embrace, oblivious to the world as they passionately kissed.
    Was that where Mark had been
directing her attention? Glancing back at him and catching the tender though
conspiratorial look in his eyes, she had her answer. Things were becoming far
too romantic.
    Still appearing to savor a wicked
secret, Mark