“No.” She reined in the rest of the blurted response that almost came out, changing it to a mildly firm denial. “I told you, Tad and I work together.”
They’d just ordered their burgers, and all three had glasses of soda with straws sitting in front of them. The minutes they’d be waiting until their food was delivered suddenly seemed interminable.
“On a committee.” Ethan nodded. “You said you work together on a committee.” He looked at Tad. “Do you like my mom?”
“Of course I like your mom. Why would I eat dinner with someone I didn’t like?”
“Exactly,” Ethan said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Do you know the game Zoo Attack?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Miranda took a sip of soda and let her son have at Tad. After all, the off-duty detective had asked for the meeting to get to know Ethan better.
“No. I don’t know that game,” Tad said, elbows resting on the arms of his chair.
“It’s really cool,” Ethan said. “You get to be in the zoo, taking care of animals, and then danger comes and you have to solve puzzles to save the animals...”
As she listened to her son’s in-depth and enthusiastic description of his favorite video game, Miranda wanted to relax. To enjoy the moment.
There was much to enjoy. In spite of everything, she’d raised a boy who was confident enough, trusting and outgoing enough, to take charge of a conversation with a virtual stranger. A male stranger.
And she was sitting with a man who, in another lifetime, might have been someone she’d feel passionate about. Watching Tad as he seemed to give Ethan his full focus, engaging in conversation as though the conversation mattered to him, she felt again that peculiar bounce of joy inside, as though she was with someone special.
“I’d like that,” Tad said, and she tuned back in, realizing, too late, that Ethan had just invited him to their house over the weekend to learn how to play Zoo Attack in two-player mode, which meant that they’d be racing against each other to get puzzles solved to save animals.
Tad couldn’t come to their home. Ethan would ask, “Why not?” She could hear his voice inside her head, asking. No simple or credible-sounding reply presented itself. But the answer was unequivocal. He could not come into their home.
Home was her safe place. The only space she could be herself without fear...
“Jimmy from school is over there, Mom. Can I go play in the sandbox?”
She had to nod. To let him go. She wanted him to be independent. But she did not want, at that moment, to be left alone with a man who was getting way too far into her.
“This isn’t a thing,” she said as soon as her son was out of hearing range.
He nodded. “I know.”
“It can’t be a thing.” She was sounding like an idiot. Had to get herself together.
“You seeing someone, then?” Tad asked easily. She didn’t like how his total attention was suddenly on her. Eyeing her with some kind of understanding or something. She didn’t like how warm that made her feel.
She was hot enough already.
Tempted to lie to him, she hesitated. Santa Raquel wasn’t all that big. And her son’s conversational filters were sadly untrustworthy.
“No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Coming off a bad breakup?”
That might work. Except that Ethan seemed unusually focused on her dating situation. Could it be that now that he’d started school, he was noticing they were missing a part of their family? Was he needing that male figure in his life? Granted, there’d be plenty of kids without dads at his school and some without mothers. But many had other family, siblings, aunts and uncles, grandparents, cousins...
She’d known this time of reckoning would come. Had worried about it to no avail—figuring she’d have to let the future take care of itself on that one.
“No, I’m not coming off a breakup.” She prayed he’d leave it there. Or that their food would arrive and Ethan, who always seemed to know when there were goods to shove in his mouth, would descend upon them once again.
When Tad glanced in the direction of the boys playing outside the sandbox with little cars Jimmy must have brought, Miranda guessed he was seeking a way out of their awkward moment, as well.
He looked so good, his dark hair, thickening shadow of whisker growth and brown eyes giving him a rakish aura in an oh-so-masculine form. She knew his legs were lean and strong. She’d seen them firsthand...and was he still wearing his blue boxers? Or had he showered since she’d seen him at work that morning?
“So you don’t date at all, or is it just me?”
So much for the idea that he was looking for an out. He’d just slammed them right smack-dab in the middle of too complicated.
“You’re only here for your leave.” She blurted what immediately came to mind, as though that explained everything.
He didn’t argue, and again she hoped she was off the hook. At least with him.
She still had to deal with herself and her deepening feelings for this man. And she would. She’d only known him six weeks. It wasn’t like it would take a lifetime to get him out of her system.
Unless... What if, for the first time in her life, she was really and truly falling for someone? As in...the real thing?
Of course, that didn’t matter in the long run. Her life wasn’t open to real. Her goal was to give Ethan a chance at a good life, a life of his own. He wouldn’t have to lie to anyone he met in his future. The life he lived now was his only known reality.
“You don’t ever talk about Ethan’s dad.”
“It’s not like we’ve had a lot of time for private conversation.”
Not entirely true. They’d fallen into the habit of having coffee after every High Risk Team meeting. At the moment, as the team became a stronger force in Santa Raquel and the surrounding communities, they were meeting weekly. And she’d volunteered to go in place of her employer, Max, every single week.
Partially because of Tad, she was ashamed to admit to herself.
“Ethan’s father is dead.” She dropped it out of the blue. There were some truths she could tell, at least in part. Clearly everyone would realize Ethan had had a father. “He died before Ethan was born.”
With no name, there’d be no chance to find a death record. To trace her to any young man who’d died during their last year of college. Or even to trace her to a particular college. Or to identify a girl who’d been friends with a boy who died. No way to discover who she really was.
“Wow. I’m so sorry.”
So was she. Jeff had been one of the greatest guys she’d ever known, and he hadn’t deserved the blows life had dealt him. “I miss him every day,” she said, allowing one more piece of her real self through. Jeff had been the only one who ever knew the whole truth about her. The only one in her past life she’d told.
“That had to be hell, to lose him and be pregnant at the same time.”
She shrugged. “You’d think so, but being pregnant, knowing that Ethan was part of him, and a new part of me, a whole new life... I’m sure that’s what saved me.” In more ways than Tad could ever imagine. If it hadn’t been for Ethan she might never have had the strength, the clarity of mind, to get away.
Jeff, who’d been a foster kid, had believed in her, trusted her to raise his child—even knowing the truth about her life.
Tad’s brows had been drawing closer together as she talked, giving Miranda the impression that she was coming on too heavy. She was suddenly aware that she wasn’t in their own little cocoon, with her son playing safely in the distance. Instead, she—and Tad—were in a noisy diner with Friday-night happiness going on all around them.
She tried to think of a way to change the subject.
But she didn’t manage before he asked, “How long did you know him? Ethan’s father?”
“Four years.”
“You were obviously close...”
Obviously. She’d had his son. Though not close in the way Tad would assume. “We were best friends.” And that was all they’d been. Friends. Not a “thing.” Best friends. With Ethan, she’d given her best friend his dying wish—a child who would always be part of him, carrying on a life that had been cut far too short.
“How long were you married?”
Her mind went blank. What did she say? Would the truth give her away somehow? She tried to think of everything she’d been told. By the lawyers who helped her legally change her identity. By Lila and Sara at The Lemonade Stand, the unique women’s shelter in town that had founded the High Risk Team. Everything she’d heard during her time with the team about the ways information could travel to the wrong people.
Marriage meant records.
The haze of panic receded. “We weren’t married.” She told him the truth. No one could find what didn’t exist. She was safe.
And no one knew that Jeff was Ethan’s father. She hadn’t named him on the original North Carolina birth certificate, and their new identities certainly didn’t name him. To begin with, she’d kept the secret to protect Jeff from her father’s wrath; Jeff had so little time to live and she couldn’t bear the thought of bringing more tension into his life. And when he’d died before Ethan was born...she’d just kept the secret.
Tad sat back, adjusted his knife on the table. Took a sip from his straw. What was he thinking?
Surely, in today’s world, he didn’t respect her less for having a baby outside of marriage?
She wanted to tell him that they knew Jeff was dying. That they’d decided not to marry so there couldn’t be any legal chance she’d be held responsible for any of his medical bills.
It seemed to be taking an inordinately long time for their dinner to arrive. But then, it was Friday night and the place was packed. Ethan had glanced their way a few times, but was still happily engaged with Jimmy. The two were in the sandbox now, trying to plow roads for their cars around the other children playing there.
All in all, less than ten minutes had passed. It just seemed like forever.
“I haven’t dated anyone since Ethan was born.” She had to tell Tad something that would get them out of this awkward mess. “A conscious choice I’ve made.” For reasons she’d never tell him, no matter how badly she wished she could.
Tad wasn’t asking her out, but she was guaranteeing that he wouldn’t, although her heart was clamoring for a chance to see what life with him would be like.
Even if just for the months he was there.
Because it was only for however many months he’d be there. There’d be no risk of having to live a whole life of lying to him... It would be a question of living in the moment for the few months he was around.
Which her heart was telling her would be better than nothing.
It would be great, actually, to have such a memory to take with her into the future. To hold close. A good secret to combat all the bad ones...
“In honor of his father?”
“No. But...” She searched for an explanation that would shut him down. And yet she didn’t allow anything remotely credible to surface. Would it be so wrong to get to know him better? He wouldn’t be staying, had an entire life, an important job, to return to.
“I haven’t had the time,” she finally said, wondering if leaving a door open to him was emotional suicide. Or maybe it was the only personal bliss she’d know in her life. “I’m a single mother, and not all men want to take that on. Added to that, until last year I was in school full-time and working, too.” While becoming a PA had only taken two years of additional schooling, she’d been unable to take her college degree with her and had to earn that all over again, too. Thankfully she’d been able to test out of more than two years of that, having to pay just for the class equivalent, not actually retake the classes.
“So now that you’re fully accredited and have more time...”
Oh, God. Was he going to ask her out? Flooded with heat, she felt she was possessed by something stronger than herself—this desire to get closer and closer to him.
She shrugged when he didn’t complete his sentence.
He nodded, as though her lack of a definitive “no” was interesting.
She smiled.
He nodded again.
And dinner was served.
* * *
What in the hell was he doing?
Walking the dark streets of Santa Raquel sometime after midnight, hunched in his department-issued coat with the collar turned up, Tad warded off the thirtysomething-degree chill of California ocean air. He’d intended to head over two blocks to the beach, but had only gone one and then turned, choosing sidewalk instead of sand.
If it hadn’t been for dinner arriving, he was pretty sure he would’ve asked out his client’s daughter. The subject of his current job.
If he ever hoped to work in law enforcement in North Carolina again, he couldn’t be pissing off the state’s chief fire marshal—a man with more connections, both law enforcement and political, than Tad could ever hope to have.
Did he hope to go back to some form of law enforcement work?
He’d quit his job.
The department had refused to accept his resignation, so officially, he was on administrative leave for the year they’d agreed upon.
Time for the department to fully investigate, review and further discuss his last case or, more accurately, the one really bad decision he’d made in a career of relatively great ones. His solved-cases record was better than that of anyone in the department.
They wanted to keep him on.
They also wanted him to take some time to get his head on straight. To show them that he’d be able to regain any trust he’d lost with his peers.
But...did he hope to go back?
Noting that he’d crossed the fourth block with at least two largely cracked cement pieces, he thought about Santa Raquel’s finances. Figured fixing cracks in the sidewalk of a seasonal tourist town should be on the radar. Someone could trip. Fall. Sue the municipal government.
The town, which was more resort-like than not, didn’t seem to be hurting for money. Based on the number of large, well-maintained homes in the area, he supposed the town was doing just fine. Sidewalks didn’t last forever. They cracked.
And a detective was bound to make one bad decision in his lifetime.
But what if he made two?
What if he asked out the daughter of his client? A woman he’d been hired to find? And keep watch over?
In his line of work, there’d been more than one occasion when the means justified the end.
Would that be the case here? Could he convince the chief that dating his daughter, casually, of course, was the best way to stick close to her? To spend time with her son?
And what about Miranda? What right did he have to mess with her life? As if she hadn’t already been through enough?
She knew he was only in town for a matter of months. Their conversation that evening had gone in an unexpected—and much more personal—direction. Thanks to Ethan, who’d put the simmering tension between him and Miranda right out there.
So...if she was potentially interested in spending more time with him, say, one-on-one, knowing that it couldn’t last long, would he be wrong to give it to her?
The thin line he walked was going to trip him up. He knew it.
Just as he’d known, when he made the choice to barge into that back office without waiting for SWAT and the hostage negotiators to arrive, assess the situation and do their jobs, that he was crossing a line.
He’d practically gotten himself killed. Had put every other officer on the scene at risk.
But he’d saved the girl.
It always came back to that for him.
Could he help save Miranda and Ethan, too?
Chapter 4
The thing about having a kid was that you couldn’t just make up your mind about something and count on having it happen. When Ethan was a baby, Miranda was in charge. Or at least she’d felt she was. From the twos on, though, he’d been pretty adamant about having his own say in anything and everything, and she’d had to rethink her approach. A process that seemed to happen every day since. She had to foster his independence. And above all, keep him safe. So her mantra had become that if it didn’t involve his safety or health, he could decide—which, in their world, meant he could have his way.
If it did have any kind of impact on his well-being, they did it her way. The line used to be clearly delineated. At least in her mind. And her boy had been good about accepting her decisions once she explained them to him.
That Saturday after dinner with Tad, Ethan woke up talking about Zoo Attack, about a new animal kingdom he was going to create and then show Tad. He’d said he’d come to their house and so, to Ethan, that meant he was coming.
Her moment to object to that idea had already gone.
Tad’s, too, apparently, at least according to her son.
And Miranda was left with the task of explaining to her son that sometimes adults said things they didn’t really mean.
A concept he wasn’t willing to accept.
“Call him, Mom, he’ll come, you’ll see,” Ethan said for the umpteenth time that morning. Standing in a pile of dark clothes on the kitchen floor by the laundry room, he kicked up a sock to emphasize his point.
She threw the last pair of white underwear in the dryer and bent to pick up their darks before he kicked them any farther.
“He’s a grown man, Ethan,” she told her son. “I’m sure he’s got more important things to do than play video games this weekend.”
As soon as she heard the words, she wanted to retract them. Implying that her son’s engagements weren’t important wasn’t what she’d intended to say.
Her Detective's Secret Intent Page 3