Free The Baby Track by Barbara Boswell Page A

within her. She determinedly shook off the feeling, which had returned in full. She felt sorry for the hurt young boy he had been then, she assured herself. For the current Connor, she felt only hostility.
    They reached the spacious lobby of the club. It’s hushed, solemn atmosphere was a distinct change from the noisy melee in the ballroom.
    “But I still don’t understand it.” Connor shook his head, still pondering her alleged relationship with Emery Har-court. “You’re so damn sexy, and Harcourt seems like a normal functioning male, yet—”
    “In case it hasn’t occurred to you, my relationship with Emery is absolutely none of your business,” Courtney interrupted crossly. “And since I do not appreciate your speculations on my—”
    “Sex life?” It was Connor’s turn to interrupt and he did so, with unabashed glee. “Baby, you don’t seem to have one.”
    She knew he was teasing her, but if he only knew how on target he really was! Courtney remembered all the virginity jokes she had endured in college when she had been foolish enough to confess she’d never had a lover. Now, as the only twenty-five-year-old virgin in the United States—perhaps in all of Western civilization—she kept her status a closely guarded secret.
    “I’m sure no one has the peripatetic, athletic and feckless sex life that you undoubtedly indulge in, but what discriminating person wants to?” she snapped.
    From his expertise in the faux grove, she deduced that all too many women had experienced his compelling sexual charisma. Her lips tightened.
    “You really zinged me with that one, Gyps.” Connor laughed appreciatively. “Nice hit.”
    His good-natured laughter increased her ire. She was also offended that he was not offended by her description of his life-style. He made it quite clear that he didn’t care what she thought of him.
    “Oh, shut up and leave me alone,” she said coldly, storming across the lobby, away from him.
    Connor immediately joined her. He couldn’t keep away from her, he enjoyed needling her too much; he enjoyed the way she held her own with him.
    “I know you’re not a member of my fan club, Courtney.” His smile was more of a smirk, further escalating her blood pressure. “I’m not exactly a fan of yours, either. But since we’re going to be working together, let’s try to keep our mutual aversion under control, shall we?”
    She was working on a suitable rejoinder when his expression, his posture, his entire demeanor suddenly changed. Courtney stared at him curiously. As if by the stroke of some magic wand, the laid-back, grinning tease had vanished, replaced with a tense, rigid and remote stranger.
    “See that man coming through the archway?” he asked.
    His voice contained some indescribable note, something inexplicable that put her instantly on alert. She followed his line of vision and spied a tall, distinguished-looking man, probably in his early sixties, with well-defined features and a full head of silver hair. He was impeccably dressed in a charcoal gray suit that even to her untutored eye looked custom-made.
    “That’s Richard Tremaine,” Connor said in that same strange tone. “Principal stockholder and CEO of Tremaine Incorporated.”
    Courtney nodded. Who in the Washington area didn’t know of Tremaine Incorporated, a multimillion-dollar family company that owned a phenomenally successful chain of discount drugstores plus a popular chain of bookstores?
    “Tremaine Incorporated gave a big grant to NPB this year,” she told Connor. “We used it to produce a wonderful documentary on the foliage in a Central American tropical rain forest.” She waited expectantly for his sarcastic remark about the program. Amazingly enough, he didn’t make one. Could it be that he found the topic interesting?
    “I’m going to go over there and thank Mr. Tremaine personally,” Courtney decided impulsively.
    “You mean you’re going to suck up to him, hit him up for some more