“I don’t feel obligated to help. I want to.”
“Because I didn’t name Delilah after you just to manipulate you into feeling responsible, and I sure wasn’t looking for money—”
“Maggie, I never thought you were like that,” he said. “I feel privileged to be part of Delilah’s life. Believe me, what you’ve given me is far more valuable than anything I could offer you.”
How did he always know exactly the right thing to say? she wondered. “Thanks, Del.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you. I do a lot of traveling because of my work, so I don’t see much of my nephews and nieces back in Missouri. I’m only in New York temporarily, too, but while I’m here, I’d really like the chance to be Delilah’s honorary uncle. And your friend.”
The roller coaster did another dip and swirl. A friend? Maggie thought. A friend was safe. And a man friend who was only here temporarily was even safer.
What was she worried about? Why was she fighting him? She wasn’t in danger of falling into the same trap with Del that she had with Alan. She wasn’t going to start mistaking her dreams for the real thing. This was a different situation altogether. Yes, it was.
“Thanks, Del,” she said softly. “I can use all the friends I can get.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he returned her smile. “All right. Since your hands are full, how about if I put that crib together before I go?”
“Well…”
“Trust me, I’m good at putting things together. Or would you rather have me do the dishes instead?”
“No. Really. They don’t matter.”
“You’re right. I think having someplace for Delilah to sleep tonight is the priority.” Before she could voice another objection, he switched on a lamp and crossed the room. After a cursory inspection of the parts of the crib, he laid the pieces out on the floor and opened the small plastic package that contained the necessary hardware. “Do you have a screwdriver?”
“In the drawer beside the stove.”
It was probably only a trick of the lighting combined with the pesky moisture that kept filling her eyes, she decided. Yet as Del progressed with his task, Maggie couldn’t help noticing how the lingering dampness on his shirt and pants reflected the lamplight with a gleam that was almost metallic, almost like…like armor. Shining armor.
Maggie pressed her cheek against the top of Delilah’s wispy curls, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Chapter 4
“These pictures are great, Del! Oh, look at this one. You caught the way Delilah wrinkles her nose.” Maggie tilted her head, smiling as she examined the photograph.
“She takes a good picture.”
“Well, so do you. Literally, I mean. You have a real knack with that camera of yours.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
She looked at the next one. “Ooh, she’s blowing a bubble here.”
He folded his arms on the back of the rocking chair and leaned forward to look over her shoulder. “Yeah. That’s a cute one, isn’t it?”
“They’re all cute,” she said. “Each and every one. It’s weird, isn’t it? If I want to look at her, all I need to do is walk into the bedroom and glance down at the crib, but I can’t get enough of these pictures.”
“That’s understandable. She’s changed a lot since you brought her home.”
“You’re not kidding. Two weeks old today, and she’s already gained ten ounces,” she said proudly, shuffling through the stack of photographs. “Wait a minute. Where’s the picture I took?”
“Which one was that?”
She twisted around to look at him. “The one with you holding Delilah.”
He hesitated a beat, then shrugged. “I guess it didn’t turn out.”
“Darn. That happened on the last two rolls, too.”
“My camera can be temperamental sometimes.”
“That’s downright…chivalrous of you to say, Del,” Maggie said, her lips quirking. “But I guess photography isn’t one of my talents.”
“Well, you’re doing a great job with Delilah.”
“That’s not a job, that’s a joy.” She turned back to look at the photographs, starting through them again. “And speaking of joy, can you believe she’s still asleep? That’s almost two hours.”
“A new record?”
“You bet.”
“What about you, Maggie? Did you manage to get any sleep last night?”
“Sure. I think.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing the muscles above her collarbone in a gentle massage. “You think?”
At the feel of his long fingers working the stiffness from her shoulders, she groaned. “Oh, that feels good.”
“Why don’t you have a nap while I’m here? I can see to Delilah when she wakes up.”
She sighed, dropping her chin to her chest. “I don’t think you can, Del.”
“You taught me how to change her diaper. I believe I finally got the hang of those little sticky tabs now.”
“Mmm.”
He found a knot at the side of her neck and pressed firmly with his thumbs. “Is that better?”
“Mmm.” She exhaled slowly. He had wonderful hands, large yet gentle, thoroughly masculine. And he’d been adept when it came to manipulating the tiny fastenings of Delilah’s clothing—his fingers were remarkably nimble. “You wouldn’t have any trouble changing Delilah’s diaper, but there are some things you can’t do for her.”
“I’m a quick study. If you show me how—”
“Del,” she interrupted with a smile. She gestured toward her bosom. “You don’t have the equipment.”
He stilled for a moment, then chuckled and resumed the massage. “You got me there.”
“This feels heavenly,” she said, rolling her head.
“Part of the trouble with staying up all night is getting overtired. Your brain is too wound up to let your body relax and get the rest it needs.”
“You sound as if you’ve had your share of sleepless nights.”
He rubbed the heels of his hands in slow circles at the top of her spine. “A few.”
“What do you do to relax?”
“I exercise to work off tension.”
“Ugh.”
“With me, though, it’s coffee rather than a baby that keeps me awake.”
“Mmm, coffee,” she murmured. She leaned forward in the chair to give him better access to her back. “I have a vague memory of what coffee was like. I haven’t had any since last year. When I first got pregnant it made me nauseous. Now I can’t have it since the caffeine makes Delilah edgy. I’d be happy to make you some, though, as long as I can stand over the pot and inhale.”
“Don’t bother, Maggie. You should be relaxing while you can.”
She couldn’t argue with that, and she didn’t really want to. This impromptu back rub was bliss. It was because of those surplus hormones in her system, she decided, but she couldn’t recall feeling so sensitive to a friendly touch before. Del hadn’t touched her often, but each time he did, it had a strange effect. Today it was stronger than ever. Wherever his hands moved, the skin beneath her blouse tingled.
Tingled? As in stimulated? Nah, it definitely had to be hormones.
“Is there anything you can think of that you might need tomorrow?”
Mmm, she thought. What she needed was more of the same. Or maybe a full-length body massage, with scented oil and fluffy towels to lie naked on…and Del could use those long, strong, nimble fingers on other places besides her back…and she could start to feel like a woman again instead of just a mother….
She blinked, chagrined by the wayward image that sprang to her mind. Yes, stimulated was the right word after all, she realized, feeling a twinge of warmth low in her stomach.
Quickly, she forced the image—and the warmth—away. This was nuts. She barely had enough energy to see to Delilah, so how could she even think about anything remotely sexual?
And how could
she contemplate getting naked for anyone? She had come a long way in two weeks, but her body still looked and felt like overrisen bread dough.
“Relax,” he said, working his thumbs along the side of her neck. “You’re tensing up again.”
Maggie exhaled hard. Poor Del. He was such a gentleman, and so endearingly considerate of the new mother, he would be horribly embarrassed by the nonmaternal direction of her thoughts.
From beneath her bangs, Maggie looked around the apartment. The place was as tidy as possible, considering the baby’s night-owl schedule, but somehow it seemed to get more cluttered every day.
That was due in large part to Del. Since he had brought her and Delilah home from the hospital, he had been dropping by to visit daily. And he never came empty-handed.
She had given up trying to object to his gifts. Pride was one thing, but she was too practical to indulge in it, especially when it would mean depriving her daughter of the little extras she wouldn’t have been able to provide herself.
Little extras? Last week Del had shown up with a stroller, not a secondhand one with a loose handle like the one she had been considering, but a brand-new top-of-the-line model complete with a rain shield, a blue polka-dotted sun shade and a five-position quilted and ruffled convertible seat.
Three days ago he had brought a special infant chair made out of fabric suspended from a wire frame that gave the perfect amount of support to Delilah’s tiny body. He knew that Maggie seldom wanted to leave her daughter out of her sight, and he was concerned that she would tire herself out by carrying the baby around all the time, so he’d chosen something she could place anywhere.
And good Lord, the baby clothes Del had brought were overflowing Delilah’s little dresser, and there were so many stuffed toys, Maggie had resorted to tying them all on ribbons and letting them dangle along the wall.
It wasn’t only Delilah who was benefiting from his generosity, either. Two days ago Del had brought groceries, and then proceeded to cook dinner. Yesterday he had taken out the garbage. Today he’d brought a bag full of paperbacks for her along with the photographs of the baby. And of course, he should be registering his hands as lethal weapons, considering how dangerous this massage of his was.
He was a nice man, Maggie thought. A really, really nice man. A great guy. A perfect gentleman. A veritable knight.
And it would be oh-so-easy to get used to this, maybe on a more permanent basis….
She drew in her breath quickly, alarmed by the direction of her thoughts. Getting a passionate twinge was bad enough, but entertaining ideas about permanency was out of the question. He’d already made it clear he was only in New York temporarily. And she wasn’t in any condition to take a step like that. No, indeed. It had been days since the last time she’d cried, but she wasn’t about to trust her judgment when her emotions were still so raw.
He was her friend, she told herself firmly. That was it, that was all, that was plenty.
“Thanks, Del,” she said finally, remembering his original question. “Considering what you’ve brought so far, what else could we possibly need?”
“What about a nursery monitor?”
“Here?” She glanced at the bedroom door. “Thanks, but I really don’t think I need one. I can hear Delilah perfectly well the second she wakes up. Actually, I think I have some kind of radar. I’m usually on my way to get her even before she cries.”
“I was just wondering.” He paused. “I know someone who can give me a good deal on monitoring equipment.”
“I appreciate the thought, but it really wouldn’t be necessary.”
“If you think of something else, let me know, okay?”
“Sure.”
“You have my number at the hotel, right?”
“It’s stuck to the fridge.”
“Great. I’ve got voice mail there and—” His words were cut off at a sudden ringing sound. He immediately withdrew his hands from her shoulders and straightened. Frowning, he pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his pants.
Maggie watched, surprised. This was the first time she’d seen his cell phone. She hadn’t known Del had one. He’d been insistent about giving her his number at his hotel and making sure she could leave a message if he wasn’t there, but it would have been a lot simpler if she could call him on his cell phone, wouldn’t it?
It had been the other way around with Alan. He had given her the number of his cell phone, but not the number of his home phone. At the time, he had explained she was far more likely to reach him that way, but now she realized he had only been trying to keep her from finding out the truth. After all, if she had called his house, his wife or one of his children might have answered.
Maggie should have known something was wrong then, but she’d been too infatuated with Alan to be suspicious. She had deliberately ignored the warning signals because she had wanted so badly to believe in him.
Of course, there was a logical explanation as to why Del only wanted her to call him at his hotel.
Wasn’t there?
Del spoke quickly into the phone, then collapsed the antenna and snapped the set shut. “I have to go,” he said, putting the phone in his pocket. He pushed the stroller aside so he could walk to the door.
She rose to see him out. “Problems?” she asked.
“No. I just need to get to the office.”
“I see. So that was your office that called?”
“Right. See you tomorrow, Maggie.”
And with that, he was gone.
Maggie closed the door behind him and turned, slumping against the wood panel. The pleasant tingles his touch had evoked faded quickly, replaced by a niggling sense of unease.
His office? She didn’t even know where it was. He never talked about his work.
That was odd, wasn’t it? Most men loved to talk about their professions, but whenever she asked Del about his, somehow the conversation always veered to another subject. After two weeks, she still didn’t know exactly what he did for a living.
Why was that? she wondered. Could he possibly be…hiding something?
Was she doing it again? Misplacing her trust?
Oh, Lord, she thought, dropping her head against the door. What was wrong with her? Del wasn’t Alan. Del was her friend. He was a kind and generous person. He had fixed her dinner and bought a stroller and rubbed her shoulders. Was this how she repaid him? With suspicions?
From the corner of her eye she caught sight of the stack of books and the glossy photographs Del had brought today, and shame flooded through her.
Del was simply a nice guy. He was coming over because of his namesake, that’s all. The baby was the only reason they had come together in the first place. That’s why the conversation always seemed to get steered away from his personal life. They were too busy talking about Delilah.
She had no right to question where he went or what he did when he left here. It wasn’t her business. Besides, what reason would he have to hide anything? He had told her he wasn’t married, but even if he’d lied, what did it matter? It was irrelevant. They were friends, that’s all.
And she wasn’t looking for more, no matter how easy it was becoming to get accustomed to Del’s presence.
“Hormones,” she muttered to herself. She raked her fingers through her hair and sighed. “If you’re not thinking straight, you can still blame it on the hormones.”
But how much longer would she be able to use that as an excuse?
“Well, that certainly took you long enough,” Bill remarked. “Where were you?”
“In Astoria.”
“At Maggie’s, of course.”
“Yes. And it wasn’t long, Bill. I timed the subway ride from Queens. It took one minute longer than taking a taxi from my hotel in rush hour, so there’s nothing to get worried about.”
“Who’s worried? Just as long as you don’t make me look at any more baby pictures.”
Del decided not to bring out the extra set of prints he’d had made for
himself. He put the camera he had borrowed from the equipment pool on the shelf where he kept his rifle. “What’s going on?”
“We’re not sure,” Bill said, falling into step with Del as they crossed the room. “But I thought after all the time you’ve put in with me staring at an empty room, you might want to see this for yourself.”
Del greeted the pair of agents positioned in front of the window. A specially treated screen had been set up between the monitoring equipment and the glass so that enough daylight was reflected outside to make the inside of this apartment essentially invisible to anyone looking in. The view from this side wasn’t impeded at all. Del could clearly see a shadow of movement in the apartment they were watching. “It’s about time something happened,” he said.
“My sentiments exactly,” Bill commented, handing him a set of binoculars. “It’s not even dark yet and the cockroaches are crawling out of the woodwork.”
“Is it Simon?”
“No such luck.”
Through the binoculars Del could see a stocky figure moving along one wall of the main room. Using a door frame for scale, he judged the person to be five feet nine, five ten at the most. He felt a stab of disappointment. According to the few witnesses who had met Simon in the flesh—and lived to tell about it—Simon was taller, at least a few inches over six feet.
There was a glint from something metallic. Del adjusted the focus until he could make out a thin, U-shaped wand that was attached to a small box in the man’s hand. A blue tattoo snaked from the back of his hand to his wrist. “What’s he doing?”
“Scanning for electronics,” Bill said. “He’s looking for bugs.”
Del lowered the binoculars. “Are they on to us?”
The young blond agent who was monitoring the parabolic microphone shook his head as he glanced at Del. “I don’t think so. Our visitor seems relaxed. He’s whistling.”
“I’d guess it’s just a routine sweep,” said the other agent, a tall woman who appeared to be in her early twenties. “Judging by his body language, he’s not expecting trouble.”
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