The past was gone. Luke would never again be her first, best confidant. Not her lover, or her love.
* * *
Luke had spent his day off painting the living room. The roller made covering the walls go pretty fast but the finishing work was tedious. Baseboards and doors needed a brush and lots of patience. The job looked good but he didn’t take as much satisfaction from it as he’d expected. And now he was tired but oddly restless. Hungry but didn’t feel like eating.
He recalled this feeling from years ago when he was conflicted about what to do with his life. The common denominator between then and now was Shelby. Then he’d made the decision to break up with her but now they were co-parenting. Emma was all they had in common. He was her father and there was no breaking up from that, even if he wanted to.
But he kept waiting for the pesky attraction to his child’s mother to go away. Now he figured when he sold the house and moved he’d leave the feelings behind. It was just about her being next door again. Some sense of déjà vu.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he should eat. His mom had cooked and frozen individual meals for him, which he appreciated. It felt good to resolve their differences and put the past to rest. She’d left a couple of days ago and Luke actually missed her, something that hadn’t seemed possible when he went into the army.
He pulled a container labeled “pork chop in mushroom sauce” out of the freezer. She’d even written reheating instructions with a Sharpie on a piece of tape.
“Thanks, Ma,” he said to the empty room.
He put the food in the microwave and pushed the reheat button. Over the humming microwave there was a sound, like a tapping on the sliding glass door, but it was past eight and dark outside. All his instincts went on high alert when he turned but Shelby was standing there. She lifted her hand in a small wave.
There was a twisting sensation in his chest that he wished he could pin on being hungry but that was a stretch. Then his head cleared and anxiety sliced through him. Emma.
Quickly he moved to the door, unlocked it and slid the glass open. “Is Emma okay?”
“Define okay.” She looked frazzled then said, “Physically she’s fine. But she’s nine and really good at it.”
“Oh?”
“She’s been pestering me to wear lipstick. Can you believe that? Like I said, she’s nine.”
“You said no.” It wasn’t a question.
“I did. Emphatically. See, that’s the thing. She doesn’t accept no. There isn’t any part of that word she understands. She won’t let this go and it’s like being pecked to death by a chicken.”
“So you abandoned ship.”
“Yes.” She pointed a warning finger at him. “And if she asks you, it’s a negative on her wearing lipstick, or any other makeup.”
“Understood.” He nodded. “Where is she now?”
“I sent her to her room to read herself to sleep. If she comes out before morning to do anything besides go to the bathroom, there will be dire consequences,” Shelby vowed. “Before coming over I checked and she was asleep.”
Luke realized she was still standing outside. “Would you like to come in?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She smiled and the dimple in her cheek flashed. There was a time when he was a sucker for that smile and the sweet innocence in her eyes. Not anymore. Probably. She walked past him and moved over to the kitchen island, but the tempting scent of her skin lingered and filled his senses.
After taking a seat in one of the chairs, she met his gaze. “This is where I ask if your mom is right about you keeping wine here for me.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes.” Shelby had a spark of mischief in her eyes.
His mom had accused him of doing that but he’d denied it, sidestepped her question and never admitted anything. Obviously she knew him better than he’d realized because he did have a nice red on hand and Shelby might have mentioned that it was her favorite. Beer or scotch were his alcoholic beverages of choice, not wine.
“I have some,” was all he said. “I’d be a pretty bad detective if I didn’t figure out that you’d like a glass.”
“The bad guys better watch their backs. Detective McCoy is on the job.”
That teasing reminded him of Emma. The kid might look like him, but her voice, mannerisms and sense of humor were all Shelby. And this woman was even more beautiful than the girl who’d confounded and charmed him years ago.
Luke still didn’t have wineglasses. Even though it seemed he’d been pouring a lot lately there didn’t seem much point in buying them. That would be more to move when the time came.
He got out the inelegant tumbler and poured cabernet into it. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She took a sip of the ruby liquid then looked at him. “So your mom got home okay?”
“Yeah.”
“How was the visit?”
“Good.” He got a cold beer, then took the chair beside hers at the island. “Better than I expected.”
“Why was that?” she asked, shifting in the seat.
Her shoulder brushed his and he felt that twist in his chest again. Ignore it. Doesn’t mean anything. What did she just say? Right. She was asking how things went with his mom’s visit. “In the past there was always tension and drama with us.”
Shelby met his gaze. “So no drama this time?”
“No, there was drama but not about me. We discussed the past and cleared the air. Turns out most of our differences were generated by her being a good mom who was worried about me.” He toyed with the cold beer bottle in front of him. “With a lot of maturity and being a father now, I understand where she was coming from.”
“Being a parent does change one’s perspective,” she said thoughtfully. “That small human we made makes you feel so many things—anxiety, responsibility, pride, unconditional love. And I don’t think anyone on the planet can exasperate you more than a child. Or a parent.”
“Speaking of that, how did things go with you and my mom?”
Shelby looked surprised. “Donna didn’t tell you?”
“I didn’t ask. So it’s Donna now?” he teased. “I guess that’s something. And she was in a pretty good mood when Emma and I got home from the movie.”
“That’s a good sign.” Shelby took a sip from her glass, then held it between her hands. “She was understandably upset with me for not telling her about Emma and didn’t hold back. I shared my reasons, all of which you already know.”
“Yeah.”
“Speaking of knowing stuff...” She glanced sideways at him. “She and I talked about you breaking up with me and why.”
“Hmm.”
“She thinks we should have been more open and honest with each other.” There were questions in her eyes.
“Remind me to have a talk with my mom about her high-level clearance and being more selective about what information she shares.”
“Shuttle diplomacy comes to mind,” Shelby said wryly. “Anyway, I think we’re in a better place than we were. She’s a good person and wants to be a part of Emma’s life. I encourage that. We all want the best for our girl, after all. Even my mom, although—”
“What is it? You were frazzled when you knocked on my door. I’m sensing it wasn’t just about Emma.” He took a long drink of his beer. “Am I right?”
“Yes. No. Maybe.” She sighed. “You might as well know. You’re going to hear sooner or later.”
“What? Should I be worried?”
“No. I contacted an attorney about putting your name on Emma’s birth certificate.”
“Oh?” He had to give her points for following through on the promise.
“It was my omission in the first place and it’s only right for me to take responsibility and correct things. I could do it myself, but the
lawyer will make sure it’s done right.” She shrugged.
“And your mom is opposed.”
“She doesn’t like change, no matter that it won’t alter anything. But your rights should be protected, spelled out. For medical decisions. Or custody if anything happens to me. God forbid there’s anything serious. Ever. But there shouldn’t be any question.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” He wouldn’t let it. The thought popped into his mind before he could stop it. As if he had anything to say about her future. A long time ago he might have but that ship had sailed.
“From your mouth to God’s ear.” She smiled at him. “But there are no guarantees.”
“I know. Odds are against it though.”
“That’s interesting coming from you. A cop. Law enforcement is necessary because bad stuff happens.” She frowned. “Now that I think about it, you’re on defense against all the bad stuff that happens. Should I be nervous?”
“My job isn’t dangerous. I interview people and gather facts, statements, information from crime scenes that will be evidence to make a case in a court of law. Don’t worry. It’s not like what you see on TV.”
“I can’t help worrying. Tell me what you did today.”
The concern on her face made him feel good at the same time he wanted to reassure her. “Today I painted the living room and was in more danger from the fumes than anything I do on the street. Before you ask, yesterday I arrested a B&E—breaking and entering—suspect who was operating in a seniors neighborhood.”
“That’s awful. Preying on older people. Good for you getting him off the street.”
“Shucks, ma’am. Just doing my job.” It had felt good, though. Almost as good as it felt when she looked at him as if he was a hero. Like now. He could get used to this feeling and decided to change the subject. “What did you do today?”
“I had an awesome day, actually.” She smiled and swiveled her chair toward him, her knees grazing his thigh. “There’s this student, a boy. So smart, so surly and rebellious. But I’m determined to help him see his potential whether he wants to or not.”
“How?”
“I talk to him. About his less than ideal family situation, how smart he is, how much I believe in him. And today he had a breakthrough.” She was excited and her legs were still touching his. “I’ve been trying to make math fun for the kids.”
“Good luck with that.”
“You’re such a pessimist.” But her enthusiasm didn’t fade. “I created activities based on TV game shows. This kid is super competitive. Today he won the match. My favorite juvenile delinquent won the gift card for a fast-food place all the kids like.”
“Is he a troublemaker?” Her safety concerned him.
“No. It’s a shell, an act. Apparently I have a soft spot for that type, but I see through him. He’s a really good kid.” She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “Not unlike someone else I used to know.”
Luke remembered when no one but her saw the good in him. She had been the calm in the storm that was his life. Light to his darkness and he hadn’t been able to resist her then.
Or now apparently. Their faces were so close and he couldn’t stop himself. He kissed her. She tasted like wine but the softness of her lips was the same. It felt as if no time had passed. Felt like the first time when he surprised her. She’d leaned in then, too, and her breathing wasn’t so even anymore.
Unlike last time she pulled away first and wouldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Luke, I—”
“Shelby, that was—” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I was feeling nostalgic, I guess.”
“Right. Of course.” She swiveled her knees away and slid off the chair. “For old times’ sake. That’s all.”
“Yeah. We haven’t seen each other for ten years. Just a stroll down memory lane. It was bound to happen.”
“Yup. I was feeling nostalgic, too.” Her cheeks were flushed and she was still a little breathless.
His body was feeling more than nostalgia because grinding need churned through him. It had never been more clear to him how a guy’s body disconnected from his brain. Because when he started to think clearly again, he couldn’t understand why he kissed this woman who had lied to him. Could he rationalize that away and call it gratitude for her protecting his paternal rights?
“Anyway—” She moved around the island to the sliding glass door. “I need to go. Get back and check on Emma. And I didn’t say anything to my mom about leaving the house. She could be wondering where I am.”
And Pam wouldn’t be happy she was here to unload her feelings.
“Okay.”
“Thanks for the wine. And the whine.” She grinned. “Good night, Luke.”
Then she was gone. He blew out a breath and realized his dinner was still in the microwave and he’d forgotten all about being restless. Because of Shelby? No way. Of all the women on the planet, he wouldn’t let her be the antidote to his tension.
Chapter Eleven
For the next few days Shelby thought of time in terms of her life before the kiss and after. She had trouble concentrating on her students, her lesson plans and her daughter because the feel of Luke’s lips on hers was never far from her mind.
Why did he do it? What had he been thinking? Had he been thinking? Of payback or torture? Kissing him felt like either or both because she’d liked it so much and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of it going anywhere.
Thank goodness today was Saturday and she didn’t have to think or make decisions. It was cleaning day in her world and she welcomed mindless physical work. Thoughts of that kiss still scrolled through her mind while she scrubbed the upstairs bathtub but only her hormones were affected. And possibly her imagination was in overdrive but there was a good chance that the bathroom had never sparkled quite so brightly when she finished.
Her back on the other hand was begging for a break. Shelby stowed the cleaning supplies and grabbed the can of spray wax and a cloth for dusting. Walking down the upstairs hall toward her room, she passed Emma’s and saw her daughter playing with dolls. The carpet was littered with clothes, most of which belonged to the nine-year-old, not the doll. The bed was unmade and books were scattered over it.
“Emma Rose, what are you doing?”
Dark eyes, Luke’s eyes, stared innocently back at her. “I had to change my doll’s outfit.”
“That’s more important than cleaning your room?”
Emma looked around at the chaos and glanced at the iPad beside her. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad—” Shelby stopped and took a breath. This was a familiar argument. She didn’t want to overreact because of being on edge about Luke’s kiss and trying to make sense of what it meant. “Saturday is always cleaning day. This is not new. On this day I expect your room to be neat as a pin. The other six days of the week it can look like a barn, but not today. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”
“I’ll do it, Mommy. As soon as I get around to it.”
Shelby felt her irritation crank up a notch and prayed for patience. Children learned what they lived and sometimes it was like looking in a mirror. She’d probably said that to Emma more than she realized.
“I’ll give you ten minutes to finish what you’re doing, then I’m coming back to check that you’ve started your chores.”
“Okay, Mommy.” She didn’t look up.
Shelby went to her room to dust and declutter. Her desk was littered with papers—math homework to correct, school memos and mail. She had a file with legal paperwork to change her daughter’s name to Emma Rose Richards McCoy.
After sorting through and organizing everything there were still stacks, but orderly ones. On the bench at the foot of her bed she’d thrown a pair of worn jeans and a long-sleeved white T-shirt, the clothes she’d had on when she saw Luke the other ni
ght.
She picked up the shirt and pressed her nose into it and swore she could smell his scent in the material. An ache started deep in her belly, a yearning to be in his arms. To kiss him until she could forget about how they’d hurt each other and just be snuggled against him without a care in the world. But wishing for what could never be was a new kind of pain.
“Mommy!” Emma rushed into her room, cheeks flushed with excitement.
“What, sweetie? Is your room clean?” She tossed the shirt into her clothes hamper.
“I just got a message from Karen.”
Shelby knew it came on Emma’s iPad. It had a kid-friendly message app and parents could control who had access to communicate with their child. This was a way to give her a little freedom in a responsible way.
“What did she want?”
Emma looked up eagerly. “She’s going to the mall with some girls in our class and wants me to come.”
“Is her mom taking you?”
“Yes. Then she’s going to do errands and will come back to get us.” The little girl pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture. “Can I go, Mom? Please?”
There were all kinds of red flags in the scenario she’d just proposed. At nine Emma wasn’t sophisticated enough to filter her words and Shelby dreaded a time when she would.
“So, Karen’s mom isn’t staying with you at the mall?”
“There will be a lot of us.” Emma didn’t exactly answer the question but her enthusiasm dimmed. “We’ll stay together.”
“But there won’t be adult supervision, right?”
“We’ll be fine, Mommy.”
“I’m not comfortable with this arrangement, Em. I think a grown-up should be with you.”
“But I’m nine! Almost ten.”
Shelby could see rebellion in her little girl’s expression and body language and wondered if this was how Luke had looked when he got a no from his mom. “You are nine. But I can’t always count on you to be responsible.”
“I’ll clean my room before I go,” Emma promised.
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