Stolen Goods: A Secret Baby Romance Read Free Page A

typically reserved for deliveries—toilet paper and
carpet cleaner, not baby deliveries, which Nolan made certain to differentiate
in his report. She didn’t act furtive, she didn’t act suspicious and she didn’t
glance around in a manner that could even possibly be construed as
mysterious. She was, however, obviously guarded, reserved and distrusting of Doctor
Milliken, as evidenced by the way she attempted to avoid even accidental
contact with him. She refused to shake his hand and when he bumped into her
going around the first corner of the hallway, the woman flinched violently. It
appeared she’d given the doctor a dressing down too, but the cameras weren’t
equipped for sound, so Nolan only had her flying hands to judge by.
    The woman’s face
was pretty in a sweet, wholesome, unremarkable way totally at odds with
the peculiar crime she’d committed. Rounded cheeks and chin, though tending
toward gaunt, as if she’d missed a few too many meals recently. She had blonde
hair verging on light brown, tucked back into a wispy braid that reached her
shoulders. Ordinary, nothing exotic or spectacular or eye-catching.
    Her body was
harder to catalogue due to the sheer volume of fabric covering it. Nolan would
have guessed she possessed an average build, and even made a note of it, but
long hours into the surveillance proved him wrong. The angle of one camera was
able to catch just a portion of the interior of the room Milliken had led her
to, and, once he’d left, she disrobed without self-consciousness.
    She was thin and
pale and drab, yet Nolan became riveted. Just the simple act of her pulling her
shirt over her head had him stilling in his seat and holding his breath, until
he got a good look at what was underneath. Skin marked by a few visible scars
made him wonder what sort of trauma she’d known and the shadows along her
ribcage made him estimate how many times a week she skipped eating. She was too
skinny, making her hipbones more prominent than necessary.
    Nolan shifted in
his chair as he watched the process. Guilt and awkwardness stormed through him,
making him more fidgety than he dared to show. With Trentham at his side giving
him a running monologue of every piece of equipment visible in the room and its
function, he couldn’t show her how affected he was by the sight of one thin
woman…who was about to impregnate herself with his sperm.
    Jesus, he had a
raging hard-on.
    Nolan didn’t know
what was wrong with him. The woman was nothing special— should have been
nothing special. Ordinary and commonplace, no discernible features to make her
stand apart from the crowd beyond the scars she’d kept hidden under her
clothes. The heated wave of awareness that insisted on traveling up and down
his spine was surely nothing more than anger, betrayal and confusion over why someone would go to such lengths to conceive his child.
    The idea that his
ex-wife had put the woman up to it as a surrogate was firmly lodged in Nolan’s
mind. He didn’t know the truth of it, but it wouldn’t surprise him. After all,
why his sample? It was enough to make him want to leave immediately and demand
answers from his ex.
    But Nolan was
glued to his chair. “Will her weight affect the chances of conception?” he
asked.
    “Yes.” Trentham
made a soft noise Nolan interpreted as pity. “There are many factors at play,
Agent Findley. I believe I can set your mind at ease about her chances of
conception. They have dwindled with each new thing I’ve learned about our
little criminal, and now I hardly think it’s even possible for her to have had
a successful implantation.”
    Nolan cleared his
throat, unsure of how he felt about that statement. “Why mine?”
    “Milliken only
said she picked. I don’t think he was privy to the inner workings of her
reasoning.”
    “Huh.” Nolan did
his best to find a comfortable way to sit in the chair that suddenly felt too
confining and watch the rest of the film.
    Hours passed as
the