Free In The Arms of a Stranger by Kristen Robinette Page B

half a bottle left. I’ll need a way to keep it from ruining, though.”
    Luke rummaged through the kitchen cabinet, eventually retrieving a beat-up soup pan. He stepped outside and returned with it filled with snow. “Refrigeration isn’t exactly in short supply right now,” he said, sitting the pot on the kitchen table.
    Given his change in mood, Dana wasn’t certain if he wasjoking or scolding her for her lack of ingenuity. “How long will you be?” she asked.
    â€œI’m not certain. Just be patient and remember what I said. If it moves, shoot it.”
    Dana nodded, suddenly feeling neither brave nor strong.
    â€œI’ll take Sam with me,” he said, glancing out the window at the dog. “Otherwise you’ll have a hundred pounds of hissy fit to deal with. He can be pretty single-minded when he wants to find me.”
    â€œOkay,” Dana agreed.
    Luke took a step toward the door, then hesitated. “You’re going to be okay.”
    It wasn’t a question but a statement, so Dana took a deep breath and nodded, drawing the baby more tightly against her shoulder.
    â€œGo to the bedroom now,” he commanded, then walked out the door.
    A hysterical laugh escaped her. Just her luck. A drop-dead-gorgeous man commands her to go to the bedroom, then abandons her for a dog. The thought made her laugh outright, reminding her of her ex-husband. Robert’s wife was hardly a dog, though. She was a beautiful twenty-six-year-old redhead with enough ripe ovum to bear a house full of children.
    When the last of the laughter threatened to turn to tears, Dana busied herself with what needed to be done. She carried the gun to the bedroom and laid it on the bureau, then settled the baby against the mattress, barricading the edges with the pillows. She made a quick trip back to the kitchen and rummaged through the drawers, choosing a couple of trinkets that might amuse the baby—a bright green plastic cup and a woven potholder. Grabbing the snow-filled pan and bottle, she headed back to the bedroom and locked the door behind her.
    A thousand possibilities ran through her mind. All of them bad. She closed her eyes, envisioning Luke, seeing in her mind’s eye how he’d placed her hand against the steady rise and fall of his chest. Dana took a deep breath and turned to look at the baby. She could do this. She had to.
    The baby began to whimper, and Dana went to him, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Please don’t cry.” She handed him the plastic cup. His clever little fingers gripped it, examining it clumsily before dropping it against his nose.
    â€œUh-oh,” Dana exclaimed, removing the cup and kissing the tip of his nose.
    She drew back, literally assaulted by emotions. She shouldn’t have kissed him. She also shouldn’t let herself melt at the sweet baby-powder scent that followed his every move or the dimples that appeared when he smiled. So far she’d managed to keep her care for him methodical, her emotions rationally distant. She was well aware of the void in her life that only a child could fill. That void was a dark and dangerous thing.
    Capable of swallowing her whole.
    The potholder turned out to be the baby’s favorite trinket. He chewed it and wadded it up just to watch it spring back into shape. Finally, exhausted, he curled his body against one of the restraining pillows and popped his thumb into his mouth.
    Dana felt tears well up in her eyes when he drifted into a peaceful sleep. She’d done this for him. Managed, despite her inexperience, to feed, diaper and entertain him.
    Dana stood and walked to the window, alone with her thoughts since the baby had nodded off. Not good. She tried to focus on something positive. Work. She would think about her job, her career. Despite the breakdown, her career had been on the rise since she’d first entered the field of television journalism.
    So why wasn’t she