Baby & the Beast

by Wright, Laura

• ISBN13: 9780373764822
• ISBN10: 0373764820
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2002-12-01
• Publisher: Harlequin Books

Excerpts

Snow fell relentlessly from a gunmetal-gray sky, coating the naked trees with an icy frosting.

Isabella Spencer pulled her wool hat down over her ears, trying to ignore the wintry glaze forming on the scarf that covered her neck and mouth. Pushing back a mounting sense of worry, she closed the door on the remaining warmth inside her lifeless car and stepped out onto the deserted road. She was two hours outside Minneapolis - and thirty miles from the small town she wanted so desperately to return to.

But fate seemed to have other ideas. It was barely November, yet the frigid morning wind whipped at her face like tiny knives, batting her from side to side as though she were nothing more than a crumpled ball of newspaper.

Flares. Go get the flares. Someone will be by soon. Her center of gravity newly broadened by several inches, she trudged carefully through a foot of snow to the trunk of her car, cursing the imbeciles at the weather station for their false predictions, cursing her cell phone with its short-lived battery. And as she rooted out several orange flares, lit them and laid them in the snow, she cursed the car that her husband had assured her was in fine working order.

Of course, that had been more than seven months ago. Before Rick had left her for the freedom divorce provided, before he'd gotten drunk, plowed into a telephone pole and died just a few hours later.

The shiver that ran through her had nothing to do with the cold this time. Her husband was gone. He hadn't wanted her and he hadn't wanted the child growing inside her, and the sooner she put that stinging piece of knowledge behind her the better. She was going home, back to Fielding, to start a new life with the new year. And she'd be damned if she was going to let a snowstorm and ghosts from the past stop her.

As the now familiar jabs of pain invaded her hips, then shot downward, Isabella slipped back inside her car, being careful of her protruding belly. The car's interior was only slightly warmer than outside, but at least she was free of the raw wind. Whatever had caused her car to break down had nothing to do with the battery, thank God. She turned the key and switched the heat to high. The delicious warmth that shot from the vents could only last for a few minutes, she reminded herself. Then she'd have to turn it off, conserve as much as she could for as long as she could.

"It's okay, sweetie," Isabella cooed, laying a hand on her belly. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Her child gave a healthy kick, urging its mother to ignore the chill in her chest and legs and the scratch of what felt like icicles in her throat. She would fight for warmth. She would fight for her child.

Her gaze lifted. First to heaven, asking her late father for help, then lower to the windshield. Snow pelted the glass, shutting her off from the outside world one perfect snowflake at a time.

* * *

Michael Wulf glanced out the tinted rearside window of the town car whisking him home from the airport. Beyond the car's warm borders, the wind roared, causing the car to pitch slightly.

Just yesterday he'd been in Los Angeles, chuckling at the paltry first offer he'd received from Micronics to purchase a prototype of his vocal-command software. The heads of corporations never fully understood whom they were dealing with when they first met with him. They'd heard rumors that he was a mystery, a hermit, a genius, but they were never certain how to play the game.

Michael taught them quickly enough. He'd finally left the warm sunshine with a very profitable deal closed, returning home to freezing temperatures. But the early-season snowstorm that met his plane wasn't an unwelcome sight. He appreciated Minnesota and its climate, valued the hibernation, the solitude, the solace. Although he did miss the long daylight hours now that the beginnings of winter were here.

It was only early afternoon and yet the gray sky and unrelenting snowfall had turned the surrounding landscape dim. It was hard to see fifty feet in front of the car. But even with the hazardous conditions and his position in the back seat, Michael's gaze caught sight of a faint orange light glowing against the snow in the distance. And near it, on the side of the road, something resembling an igloo with side mirrors and an Illinois license plate sat in ice-coated silence.

"What the hell is that?" he muttered. The driver slowed, glancing to his right. "Looks like an abandoned car, sir."

Abandoned. That word fisted around Michael's gut, warning him that things weren't always as they seemed. It would take all of five seconds to see if the car truly was abandoned. Five seconds he was willing to risk even in such a blizzard. "Stop."

The driver did as he was instructed, pulling over in front of the car. In a flash, Michael was out the door, his bad leg stiffening in the cold as he trekked the few feet to the car. But he hardly noticed the dull ache. He was alert as he swept several inches of snow from the window, intent to see for himself that no one remained inside.

Suddenly his breath came out in a rush of fog. A woman sat in the driver's seat. She was bundled from head to foot in down and wool, asleep - or at least he hoped she was asleep.

"Miss? Miss? Can you hear me?" He yanked open the door and ripped off his glove, then bent down and dipped a hand inside her scarf. A strong, steady pulse beat against his fingers.

She stirred then, her eyes fluttering open. She stared up at him with large, deep-blue orbs that, though shrouded with uncertainty, spoke directly to his soul.

Deep-blue windows he'd seen somewhere before. Her lips parted. "You found me."

And that voice. It was scratchy and raw, but he knew that voice.

The snow swirled around him like an ominous cyclone. Michael quickly shoved aside the questions forming in his mind. He needed to get her out of the car and to safety. But where? The hospital was forty-five minutes away. Too far.

"The heater stopped working ... maybe half hour ago," she said softly, slowly. "I must've fallen asleep."

"You're damn lucky," he said, easing her out of the car then helping her to stand. "Another half hour and ..." And that car would've become an arctic tomb. He didn't say it.

The wind burned his face and neck as he stripped off his coat and covered her. "You're going to be fine. Hang on."

"All right," she whispered.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Baby & The Beast by Laura Wright Copyright © 2002 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.