Free The Baby Track by Barbara Boswell

got out of prison.”
    She placed a protective hand on Emery’s arm. He was so naive and trusting. Anyone who thought Kieran Kaufman was charming needed her protection, especially from a manipulative snake like Connor McKay. “Let’s call it a night,
    Emery,” she suggested sweetly. “I have an early appointment tomorrow.’ ’
    Emery cleared his throat. “Courtney, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get reacquainted with my old friend here.” Emery, forever the well-brought up gentleman, offered Connor a chair. “Prison, hmm? Tough break, McKay.”
    “Junk bonds,” Connor said, sitting down at the table, but not before shooting Courtney a mocking, victorious grin. “I didn’t know what my tax attorney was up to, but I took the fall. It’s been tough, all right. Former friends don’t want to give you the time of day after you’ve served time.” “There’s one thing you can count on from a Harcourt and that’s loyalty,” Emery said fervently, glancing at Courtney with silent reproof.
    “Have a seat, Courtney,” Connor invited. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to sit at a table with an ex-con. I’ll understand completely if you don’t.”
    “Don’t ever think such a thing,” finery exclaimed. “I’m quite sure Courtney joins me in welcoming you back. She is quite a fair-minded egalitarian.”
    “Harcourt’s a nice guy,” Connor admitted grudgingly fifteen minutes later as he and Courtney made their way through the ballroom, which was still in the throes of pandemonium, courtesy of Kieran Kaufman’s bird-releasing spree.
    The feathered escapees flew helter-skelter through the room, and many of the guests already had departed in panic. Courtney wished that she had been among them. Instead, she had remained at the table while Connor and Emery conversed. She was still wondering why she’d stayed, silently listening to Connor use his considerable, subtle investigating skills to ferret out the details of Emery’s life.
    What was it about Connor McKay that compelled her to go along with him, when common sense urged her to beat a hasty retreat? she wondered nervously. Instead of ejecting him from her office today, she’d allowed him to stay. In-
    stead of telling him to get lost, she’d agreed to collaborate with him. And now tonight, instead of informing Emery that he had not prepped with Connor McKay—who also wasn’t a yuppie felon—she had sat quiescently and listened in fascination as he drew information about the Harcourts with skills that would have done any prosecuting attorney proud. He had even weaseled a ride home!
    Still, she’d said nothing, allowing the unsuspecting Emery to go for his car, leaving her alone with Connor McKay. Three strikes and you’re out, she reminded herself, involuntarily glancing at him, taking in his sandy brown hair, still tousled from their little match under the trees, his deep green eyes, and his well-shaped, sensually compelling mouth. She swallowed, hard.
    “I can see why you two have never made it to bed, though,” Connor continued thoughtfully, his voice breaking into her troublesome reverie. “I’ve never heard a guy in love refer to his woman as a fair-minded egalitarian. Not very romantic, Gypsy.”
    “Maybe not by your standards,” Courtney retorted. Or by anyone else’s, either, she silently conceded. But then Emery wasn’t in love with her, she wasn’t his woman, and neither of them had ever pretended otherwise. Until now, with this stupid ruse she was playing at Connor’s expense. Poor Emery would be horrified at the deception. She considered telling Connor the truth about the two of them, then decided against it. The man was too smugly confident, too arrogant. He deserved to be deceived!
    A peculiar flashback of Connor telling her and Kaufman about being sold as an infant suddenly appeared before her mind’s eye. He hadn’t looked arrogant or smug then. The i bleakness in his eyes, in his tone, had touched a chord deep