Borrowed Baby by Marie Ferrarella Page B

line of vision. "Oh, this," she answered his silent inquiry, hoping that she didn't sound too flustered. "I found it hanging in the bathroom. I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't see fixing breakfast in a beaded dress."
    He conjured up a vision of her doing just that. It had its pluses. But so did seeing her in his bathrobe. It fit her like a navy-blue pup tent and gave every indi- cation that it was going to slip off her shoulders if she made any sudden movements. He wondered what she was wearing underneath it. He felt desire surge through his loins and forced his mind elsewhere. That worked for about half a minute.
    Casie tugged at the sash that was lightly tied at Liz's waist. Liz grabbed it before it had a chance to unceremoniously come apart.
    "You do eat breakfast, don't you? Or do you just get up and begin growling on an empty stomach?"
    Casie was tenacious, Griff noticed. He wondered if Liz was aware that the baby was now making an effort to disentangle the other side of the sash. Maybe he should tell her. Later. "I eat breakfast."
    What was he looking at? Was something showing? She doubted it. She felt positively enshrouded in his bathrobe. The tops of her feet barely showed. "Is there anything in particular you want?"
    Yeah. "Whatever's handy."
    She saw a smile begin to grow on his lips. Now what was that about? "I've seen the cereal box. The cereal's stale," she pronounced. "I threw the last of it out." She saw his eyebrows go up. Quickly, she tried to forestall his annoyance. "French toast strike your fancy?"
    "French toast?" he echoed absently, intent on watching Casie tug on the sash.
    Liz suddenly became aware of what was going on. Shifting the slipping Casie higher on her hip, she almost lost her dignity completely. Casie gurgled as she yanked the sash off. Liz grabbed for the two sides of the robe, which had parted company now that the sash lay on the floor at her bare feet.
    She saw desire flash in Griff's eyes.
    She bent down awkwardly, still holding Casie. Snatching up the sash, she managed to work it back around her waist. "Now keep those busy little hands off," she reprimanded Casie affectionately. Then she turned to look at Griff who was watching her with an amused expression. "As for you, you could have averted your eyes, officer Foster." She tried to suppress the warm, pleased feeling she had, even as it warred with her embarrassment.
    "Yeah, I could have." He gave no indication that he would have done anything of the kind.
    Elaborately, she took hold of the two ends of the sash and twisted them around tightly in her hand so that Casie could no longer play with them. "So, you're human after all."
    Only too human as far as you seem to be concerned, he thought with a touch of annoyance as well as interest. "Human enough to want that French toast you just offered."
    The way his eyes appraised her, she knew he didn't have French toast on his mind.
    Neither did she, but this wasn't the time or the place to explore what was silently going on between them. Maybe later, she thought with a touch of sadness, wishing she were a little more reckless or that Casie had slept just a little bit longer.
    "Right. French toast coming up." She marched off, her hips unintentionally swaying provocatively beneath the terry-cloth robe.
    Griff watched the easy rhythm of the sway. Damn, he wanted her. Though it was wrong and would never work, he wanted her in the worst way. But he knew he couldn't handle the added complications. He was having enough trouble just dealing with having Casie pop up unexpectedly in his life. He'd seen what had happened to policemen with emotional problems at home. They lost their edge. He couldn't allow that to happen—not for any reason—not even in a town with as little crime as Bedford.
    "Don't hurry, I have to take a shower first." A cold one, he added mentally.
    He heard Liz laugh softly to herself and wondered if she could read his thoughts. It certainly wouldn't have been hard at the