The Baby Snatchers (22 page)

With most of his weight on his elbows, he
lay on top of her. With their chests bare, he teased her nipples
with his chest hair. Through the thickness of his jeans, his
erection pressed into her and she yearned to be skin to skin.
Moving restlessly beneath him, she voiced her desires.

“Take off your jeans.”

His eyes flared brighter and he quickly
acceded to her request. Sitting back on his haunches, he unbuttoned
his Levis and slid down the zip. Shucking the jeans down his hips
with his underwear in tow, within moments he was naked. Georgie
took her time and looked her fill.

Cameron’s cock stood out from a dark nest of
hair. Thick and hard, there was no doubt it more than lived up to
its earlier promise. Heat rushed through her and centered in her
core. She squirmed beneath him. Without conscious thought, she
licked her lips.

As if the motion propelled him into action,
he bent forward and reached for the button on her jeans. With his
gaze fixed on hers, he undid the zipper and slowly eased her Levis
down over her hips. She lifted her bottom to assist him. He
returned to lie on top of her and her senses kicked into gear,
registering several things at once: His firm skin was warm and
supple. The hair on his legs tickled. She breathed in the spicy,
exotic scent of his cologne. She flicked her tongue across his lips
and tasted mint.

His cock lay hard against her belly. She
yearned to feel it inside her. Reaching up, she pulled his head
down for a kiss so thorough, it made no secret of her longing. When
at last they pulled apart, gasping for breath, Cameron stared down
at her, his eyes shadowed with desire.

Bending his head, he nuzzled her breasts and
then took one of her nipples in his mouth. She gasped at the feel
of him suckling her and a surge of need echoed deep within her
core. When he moved over to her other breast, her heart pounded in
anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured and then
reached down and fondled the soft curls between her legs. A moment
later, his fingers slid through her slick folds and stroked.
Mindless pleasure coursed through her. She gripped his
shoulders.

“Do you like that?” he whispered.

She was almost beyond coherent speech.
“
Mm,
very much.”

His fingers continued their magic until she
couldn’t stand another moment of the sweet torture.

“Please,” she gasped. “I need to feel you
inside me.”

Cam growled low in his throat and reached
over the side of the bed for his jeans. Finding his wallet, he
pulled out a condom and quickly sheathed his cock. A moment later,
he positioned himself between her legs. His cock probed at her
entrance.

Her legs fell open in encouragement and she
stared at him, hoping he recognized her need. Slowly, he eased into
her and she gasped again at the feel of him stretching her deep
within. He stroked in and out and she clung to him, her nails
digging into his back.

Over and over, he thrust into her, picking
up force and speed. Desire reached fever pitch inside her and she
clung to him. When she reached her peak, she cried out in ecstasy
and relief. Her inner muscles clenched around him, leaving her
weak, but fulfilled. Gradually, her breathing slowed and she
offered him a smile.

“Good?” he asked.

“More than good.”

His expression filled with satisfaction and
then a baser emotion took control. His strokes became longer and
faster and soon he tensed and then groaned in heartfelt relief. For
a long moment, he lay still on top of her, his breath coming fast
and harsh in her ear. Finally, she squirmed underneath him and he
immediately lifted his weight.

“I’m sorry. I’m way too heavy for you.” He
rolled to his side, taking her with him.

She reached up and pressed a finger to his
lips, shushing him. “Don’t apologize. I love the way you feel.”

He smiled down at her tenderly and then
pressed a soft kiss against her mouth. “You feel pretty darn good,
too.”

It was a long while later that they began to
talk, sharing stories about their childhood. He told her about his
dysfunctional family and his revelations didn’t come as a surprise.
Cynthia had already told her the reasons she’d run away from home
at fourteen. The thought of what her mother had done… It still
filled Georgie with anger and despair.

Knowing Cameron had relied on no one but
himself to get to where he was only increased her respect and
admiration for him. He hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in his
mouth, like she had, and yet he’d risen above his disadvantaged
background and had achieved much to be proud of in his life.

“Have you ever been back home?” she asked,
tracing idly through his chest hair with her finger.

He tensed and then blew out his breath on a
heavy sigh. “No. My parents lost any right to have me call them
that the day they asked me to leave. They’ll never be parents to me
again.”

“Have you ever talked to your dad about it?”
she ventured, hating the thought of their estrangement. Even though
she’d been hurt over her mother’s recent revelations, her parents
were still an important part of her life. She couldn’t imagine not
having them around.

Anger stirred in Cameron’s eyes. “I haven’t
seen or spoken to either of them since it happened and I’m never
going to. They’re gone forever, as far as I’m concerned. I’ve cut
them out of my life. I don’t need to go back. Those memories are
burned into my brain. They help to remind me how far I’ve come and
help me to work harder and strive for even greater accomplishments.
I’ll never feel powerless again.”

“Is that why you entered the police force?
Were you attracted by their authority and power?”

He shrugged and some of the tension in his
body eased. “Maybe. I’ve never really thought about it. From the
time I was about seventeen, I wanted to be a cop. We had a
recruitment officer visit school that year and he inspired me to
join. He talked about mateship and teamwork and fighting the fight
against evil. I guess it appealed to me. Who doesn’t want to slay
dragons?”

His anger disappeared under a smile so
tender and warm it nearly took her breath away. She brushed a piece
of hair off his forehead and then pressed her lips to the spot. His
arm tightened around her.

“Do you ever think about your birth
mother?”

The moment the words were out of her mouth,
she wanted to take them back. Cam’s expression hardened and an
unfamiliar coldness entered his eyes. Georgie shivered.

“I feel nothing but contempt for that
woman.”

A shaft of pain stabbed through her, but she
forced herself to continue. She needed to know whether there was
any chance he’d understand and feel even a little compassion toward
the woman who’d given him life.

“She could have chosen to have an abortion.
Then you wouldn’t be here. Did you ever think of that?” she asked
quietly.

Cam’s frown darkened. “I prefer not to think
about her at all.”

“There might have been good reasons why she
gave you up.”

His bark of laughter contained no humor.
“Yeah, like she didn’t want me, didn’t love me. She probably didn’t
even know my dad. The space for the father on my birth certificate
is blank.”

The bitterness in his eyes sent icy dread
flooding through her veins. Her soul filled with despair. She could
never hope to pierce the hurt and pain that had grown, thick and
hard, like scar tissue over his heart. She bit back a sob. One
thing was clearer than ever: She could never tell him about her
son.

He turned on his side and brought her with
him. Pressing her close against him, he kissed her softly on the
mouth. “Let’s not talk about me anymore. I’d prefer to hear about
you.”

Georgie forced a smile. “What would you like
to know?”

Cam winked. “Anything. Everything. Like…
What made you choose nursing?”

She drew in a deep breath and eased it out
on a soft sigh before settling down against him. “Would you
believe, when I was a young girl, I dreamed of being an artist,”
she began.

“I grew up in the Blue Mountains and there
were plenty of creative people up there. But with a mother working
her way up through the nursing ranks for the best part of forty
years and a father who was a well-known obstetrician, I guess a
career in some kind of medical field was always in the cards.”

Cam looked at her in surprise. “Your dad’s a
doctor?”

“Yes. He works at the Sydney Harbour
Hospital. We like to keep it in the family,” she chuckled.

“What’s his name?”

“Well, I said he was well-known, but I’m
guessing you’ve never heard of him. After all, he’s in the business
of delivering babies and I imagine you haven’t had anything to do
with that.”

His answering smile was there, but it didn’t
reach his eyes. Georgie wondered at his sudden change in mood.
God, she hoped she hadn’t read him wrong.
What if he had a
wife, or even a girlfriend—and children? She should have asked more
questions, if not of him, then Cynthia. Then she remembered Cynthia
had told her he was single and she relaxed against him again.

“You still haven’t told me your father’s
name.”

She wondered briefly at his insistence and
then shrugged it off. “His name is Doctor Frederick Rolleston.”

Cameron’s face paled and his expression went
blank. She stared at him, wondering at his strange reaction.

“Don’t tell me you
have
heard of
him?” she teased in an effort to lighten the sudden tension in the
air.

His answering smile looked forced. “No, I
don’t think so.”

* * *

Cam’s mind whirred in a kaleidoscope of
shock and disbelief. Doctor Frederick Rolleston was Georgie’s
father. Cam would bet his condo on the fact the good doctor was the
same one who’d signed off on the suspect death certificates. It was
an unusual surname and one he’d committed to memory. Despite the
warmth in the room and the heat emanating off Georgie’s naked skin,
he shivered.

“Cold?” she asked and reached for the
covers. Tenderly, she tucked them around his shoulders. Still, an
icy block of dread and foreboding sat heavily against his
chest.

He hadn’t thought it particularly odd that
Marjorie Whitely had completed every one of the final nursing
reports. After all, she was the head of the ward. It stood to
reason that something as serious as the sudden death of a newborn
would be brought to the attention of the most senior staff. What
was less believable was that Marjorie’s husband had been at work
during each and every one of the deaths.

If Cam recalled correctly, the death
certificates had been completed within hours of each baby’s death.
Surely there was a roster?
The likelihood of Doctor
Rolleston being on duty each and every time was coincidental beyond
belief—and if there was one thing eight years in the police force
had taught Cam, it was not to trust in coincidences. One thing he
knew, he couldn’t stay in Georgie’s bed a moment longer.

Pushing back the covers, he swung his legs
over the side and began to dress. From the corner of his eye, he
saw her raise herself up on one elbow, a look of hurt and confusion
on her face.

“Where are you going?”

Forcing himself to look at her, he gave her
a tight smile. “I’m sorry, I just remembered I have some statements
to go over before I head into work tomorrow. I’d also rather not
leave Cynthia alone overnight, if I can help it. She’s still just a
kid and I—”

“It’s fine. I understand,” Georgie
interrupted. “You’ve promised to look out for her. You need to go
and make sure she’s safe.”

Guilt surged through Cam at the look of
kindness and compassion on Georgie’s face. Whatever might be
happening with her parents, one thing was certain: He didn’t
deserve the likes of Georgie Whitely.

Forcing another smile, he leaned over and
pecked her on the cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ll call
you.”

And with that, he collected the rest of his
things and left.

Cam stared at the files before him. The sick
feeling in his gut just wouldn’t go away. He’d left Georgie in her
bed the night before and he still felt bad about giving her the
lame excuse he had to get home to Cynthia, but he couldn’t bear to
tell her what he’d been thinking and until he had proof that her
parents were involved in something untoward, he wouldn’t breathe a
word.

It was obvious from the way she spoke about
them that she loved and admired them. He wouldn’t disillusion her
unless he had to. Not everyone had to have their world come
crashing down. If it were possible, he’d keep hers intact.

As soon as he’d arrived at work that
morning, he’d checked the files again. Just as he remembered, the
death certificates were signed by Doctor Frederick Rolleston with a
date and time stamp on each one, indicating they were completed not
long after each baby was formally declared dead.

Cameron tugged his keyboard toward him and
typed in Rolleston’s name. Clicking on Google images, he was
immediately rewarded with several photos of a distinguished-looking
man sporting a thick crop of white hair and a wide smile. He was a
man who, even in his photos, exuded confidence. Cam saw a little of
Georgie around the mouth and nose and his heart clenched. One of
the photos showed Rolleston with his arm around a woman who looked
to be around his age. Stylishly dressed and with her hair perfectly
coiffed, Cam guessed the sophisticated woman was Georgie’s mother.
Another quick search confirmed it.

Cam scrolled through the pages of hits the
name Frederick Rolleston had brought up. Opening one link after the
other, and scanning their contents he was impressed with the man’s
social conscience. According to several reputable sources, a decade
earlier Rolleston had set up a charity for the benefit of single
mothers unable to cope. He raised several million dollars every
year in aid of it.