Free The Baby Track by Barbara Boswell Page B

cash,” Connor jeered. “At least be honest with yourself and own up to your true motives, Gypsy.” His face was hard, his eyes dark and cold.
    Courtney flinched. His accusation hurt more than angered her. “I don’t have to stand here and be insulted by you,” she said tightly.
    Obviously Connor had some grudge against hardworking, achieving members of the establishment, she decided, thus his hostility toward Richard Tremaine. She frowned. Given Connor’s idiotic job—straddling private investigating and reporting but not following through in either—she shouldn’t be surprised by his resentment of conventional success.
    Well, she was a staunch admirer of it. Holding her head high, Courtney crossed the lobby and introduced herself to Richard Tremaine.
    He was kind and courtly and graciously responded to her introduction and her thanks. They chatted pleasantly about NPB and its goals, and Courtney assured herself that she was not sucking up to Mr. Tremaine, as Connor had so crudely accused. It was simply good manners to show appreciation for a gift.
    A few minutes later they were joined by a taller, younger and even more handsome version of Richard Tremaine. Courtney was introduced to his eldest son Cole, and Cole’s striking redhaired wife, Chelsea. The younger Tremaine sons, Nathaniel and l^ler, two more dark-haired Adonises, joined them shortly afterward with their dates, and once again introductions were made all around.
    “I wonder who really did open those bird cages?” lyier flashed a smile at his brothers. A smile that made Courtney stare hard at him. There was something about his smile...
    “So far I’ve heard at least fifteen different people claim credit for doing it, but I don’t believe any of them,” said Cole, affectionately lacing his fingers with his wife’s. “Not one has the nerve to jaywalk, let alone turn Hop’s birthday party into a scene from Hitchcock’s The Birds. ”
    The lobby was rapidly filling with refugees from the party. The wild birds had won control of the ballroom, driving everybody else out. As the Tremaines continued jokingly to speculate on the identity of the bird liberator, Courtney decided it was definitely time to fade into the crowd. With any luck, they never would find out who the real culprit was or her unfortunate connection to him. She excused herself and slipped away.
    She looked for Connor, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was irritated to find him standing outside the club, talking to a glamorous brunette who was making a meal of him with her big, overly made-up eyes.
    “Is Emery here with the car yet?” she asked, coming to stand between Connor and Cleopatra Eyes. Both of them welcomed her with the enthusiasm of vacationers faced with a bag of medical waste washed up on shore, which inspired Courtney to make an even greater pest of herself.
    “I just had the nicest talk with the Tremaines. They’re four of the handsomest men I’ve ever met, but the middle son, Tyler, is to-die-for,” she prattled on. She normally eschewed such slang as “to-die-for,” but she decided it worked quite nicely tonight.
    Connor’s attention immediately shifted from the brunette to Courtney. “Tyler Tremaine is way out of your league, honey,” he said tautly.
    Courtney flashed what she hoped was an enigmatic smile. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
    She watched with satisfaction as he turned his back on his new chum to focus completely on her. “Did he ask you out?” he demanded.
    “Here’s Emery,” Courtney sang out and sailed down the wide stone steps.
    Connor dogged her heels. “Did he?” he demanded. His heart was pumping at an alarming speed. Tyler Tremaine— his own half-brother—and Courtney? He felt a shocking wave of fury wash over him, followed by another of pure despair. He caught her arm, just as she was about to open the car door.
    Courtney was grinning. “Did you see the way Cleopatra up there was glowering?” She didn’t bother to question why