“Gaggle?” She looked at him. “Isn’t that what you call a gathering of geese?”
Clay shrugged as he took another turn. This was the long way home, but he wanted to be certain that there was no one following him. “Gaggle, bunch, herd, you get the idea.”
“Yes, I do.” Ilene set her mouth grimly. “That you think children are animals.”
Conversations from the past returned to her. Clay had made a point of saying he never wanted to settle down, never wanted children. That kids didn’t belong in a world that wasn’t stable. She’d agreed with him, but that didn’t change the fact that in her heart, she’d always wanted at least one child of her own if not more.
“They can be,” he said. And then he thought of his father. At what he’d endured at Rayne’s hands. The air between the two had been as volatile as a tray filled with nitroglycerin. “They can also be a huge emotional drain on you. Look at what my father went through.”
She had absolutely no idea what his father had gone through. When they’d been together, Clay had never shared that part of himself. What he’d shared was the moment. “Ever ask him if he regretted it?”
Clay watched the road ahead intently. For the umpteenth time he wondered where his father had found the strength to go on. If he’d loved a woman the way his father had loved his mother and then lost her, he didn’t think he would have been able to go on. “Maybe not now, but he must have somewhere along the line.”
It was Ilene’s turn to shrug. “Everybody regrets even the best of things somewhere along the line.” She remembered how she’d felt when she discovered she was pregnant. In theory, she’d always hoped the day would come. In reality, it had come at the least opportune time, a frightening prospect when she was least prepared for it. But she’d managed and had lived to be grateful. “A celebrity busts her tail to get to the point where she’s rich and famous, then yearns for when she was unknown and could go to the grocery store unnoticed. To find out if you’re really happy with how things have turned out, you have to look at the big picture.”
He surprised her by turning toward her as they came to another stop. “So, what about your big picture, Ilene? Are you happy?”
In her case, she didn’t look at the big picture, because that should have included someone to love her who measured taller than three feet. Instead, she looked at the small, precious picture, at her world captured in Alex’s eyes.
“I love my son.” And then, just as it had the past two days, events came up to haunt her. “And up until last week, I loved my job. I was good at it, good at details, at order.” She turned her face away from him. A note akin to cynicism came into her voice. She’d been so close to finally getting to the top, and now she was back to square one. Maybe even below square one. “I guess I can’t exactly expect a letter of recommendation from Simplicity now.”
“Sometimes a clear conscience is better than a letter of recommendation,” Clay said.
“Since when did you get philosophical?”
Without a philosophical approach, what he had seen during the course of his police work would have made him quit almost before he ever signed on.
“The job does that to you. We all develop some kind of defense mechanisms. We have to, and philosophy is a hell of a lot better than drinking yourself under the table every night just to be able to keep the nightmares at bay.”
Was he just talking, or had his work changed him? By how much? For the better?
Not your business anymore, Ilene.
“I always thought staying one step ahead of a commitment was your defense mechanism.” Ilene blew out a breath. He was trying to help her, help her son, and she was being bitchy. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. My mind is in a hundred places right now.”
“You’re entitled,” he told her.
He never stewed over anything for very long, firmly believing that was the shortest route to an ulcer. Making the next right, he glanced in the mirror. So far, so good. He wondered if he was getting too complacent. Had he missed anything?
She turned around in her seat to look behind her. The street stretched out, long and dark. “You keep looking in the rearview mirror. You think anyone’s following us?”
“Doesn’t look that way.” He was glad to be able to level with her. “Shaw and Teri should be checking into a motel right about now.” The car he’d seen parked in the vicinity had followed after them. With luck, that was the only tail. “They’re going to stay there and keep up the ruse for a few hours to hopefully buy you a little time.” He grinned, sparing her a glance before looking back on the road. “Whoever tried to scare you off isn’t going to expect you to come home with the police,”
She laughed again. “I didn’t expect to be coming home with the police, either.” She folded her hands in front of her. It annoyed her that they still shook a little. “I appreciate you doing this, I know this isn’t business as usual for you.”
“It never was with you.” The words had just slipped out. When she looked at him sharply, he got into his cop mode. “You realize you can’t get in contact with anyone while you’re at my father’s house.”
“I realize that.” Did he think she was stupid? That she’d get on the phone and call a girlfriend? Damn, she had to stop being so defensive. He was just doing his best. More. “There’s no one to call.”
Clay looked back at the boy. “Not even Alex’s father?”
Ilene pulled back. The ice beneath her feet cracked a little. She couldn’t relax her guard for a moment. “Alex’s father isn’t in the picture.”
“Whose idea was that?”
She stuck to the truth as much as she could, wishing he’d drop the subject. “Mine.”
He’d felt more than seen her stiffen. His training had him reading her body language. “Was he abusive?”
Ilene gave him one of the reasons she’d given herself for keeping him out of Alex’s life. “No, but having him coming in and out of Alex’s life whenever the whim moved him would have been detrimental to Alex.”
“And he’s okay with this?”
“He has to be.” Feeling progressively more uncomfortable, she shifted in her seat. “Look, do we have to talk about this?”
“No, we can talk about anything you want.” He was just trying to get her to forget for a little while why she was here in the first place. “How long have you been back in town?”
“How did you know I left town?” As soon as she’d discovered she was pregnant, she’d known she couldn’t stay and run the risk of running into Clay. Seeing her, he would have guessed he was Alex’s father. So she’d gone to stay with a friend until she’d gotten on her feet and struck out on her own.
“Because I tried to look you up about a month after our breakup.”
She hadn’t expected that. “Guilt?”
Probably in part. Since he was responsible for her finally giving him his walking papers. He’d orchestrated it, and once the melody ceased to play, he’d found himself battling regret and guilt at the same time. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I was doing fine,” she told him, saying lines she’d rehearsed over and over again years ago. “Took a job with Simplicity at one of their branch offices in Denver. Did so fine that they transferred me to their regional headquarters.”
She didn’t add how much soul searching she had done before accepting the promotion, battling the very real concern she had at the possibility of running into him if she accepted the job. She’d almost turned the promotion down, but the options for a single mother trying to make a career for herself and her son were still not that plentiful that she could afford to walk away from something as lucrative as the offer had promised to be.
Certainly walking away from it now, aren’t you?
He studied her profile and tried to fill in blanks. There was something she wasn’t telling him. Why should she, he argued. It wasn’t as if they’d just drifted apart; he’d ripped them apart. At the bottom of a bottle of very fine Kentuc
ky bourbon, he’d come face-to-face with the reasons why some time back. He was afraid of loving someone. Afraid that they’d be taken away from him the way his mother had been taken away from his father. From him.
He made the logical assumption. “So Alex’s father doesn’t live in Aurora.”
She looked at him. “Why are you suddenly so interested in Alex’s father?”
Ilene wasn’t even sure why she was asking him that instead of shutting down the subject again. Maybe it was because she wanted him to make her believe that if Alex had been his child, he would have wanted to know about it. Maybe she wanted him to say something to convince her that she’d made a mistake in not telling him and that he truly wanted a child. Wanted her.
Damn it, she was letting all this get to her. She was punchy and tired and unreasonable, Ilene told herself. Why else was she hoping to hear something she knew she hadn’t a chance in hell of hearing? Clay was Clay. A footloose, fancy-free bachelor who made no bones about telling a woman right up front where he stood. There’d been no deception, no promises to feel cheated about. He’d been honest to her from the start.
The only thing was, she’d wanted him to change his mind. Because of her. And he hadn’t.
He lifted a shoulder, letting it drop carelessly. “Just wondering what kind of man would walk away from you.”
An enigmatic smile played on her lips. “Maybe you should angle that rearview mirror down a little lower,” she suggested.
He’d asked for that one, Clay thought. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ve had some thoughts about that, too.”
She felt her heart suddenly rise to attention. “Such as?”
Warning signals went up. He was going places he couldn’t back out of. But then he saw his reprieve. Clay nodded toward the well-lit house up ahead, at the end of the block. “We’re here.”
She’d been so intent, waiting for an answer, that she didn’t follow him for a second. “Here?”
“My house.” He nodded at it again. “My father’s house.”
But she’d heard just one thing. Something inside of her, a vein intent on self-preservation, came to life. “What do you mean your house?”
He slowed as an orange cat dashed across the street. Lincoln was older than the hills and by all rights should have been dead years ago.
“I guess I forgot to tell you, I’m staying here, too. Temporarily.” he said.
Somehow, it didn’t seem quite right for a twenty-seven-year-old police detective to be living at home with his father and two sisters. Although he had to admit that, if he didn’t care what other people thought, he didn’t really mind the living arrangements. The sounds of his family around him gave off comforting vibes. If he wanted to be alone, he could usually manage it, and if he didn’t, there was always someone to talk to.
Clay wondered if that made him a family man or just someone who had trouble moving on and away from a good thing.
No, he reminded himself, he’d left Ilene behind, and that was definitely moving away from a good thing.
Ilene hesitated as doubt grew larger. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“If you have any concerns, my father is pretty much of a fixture in the house. He’ll be your buffer. And my sisters are here when they’re off duty.” He stopped the car and looked at her. He couldn’t read the expression on her face, couldn’t find his way around her eyes the way he’d been able to do so often when they’d been together. “This isn’t a den of iniquity, Ilene, this is a place to keep you and your son very safe.”
Even as he said it, she knew it was true. Not necessarily because he said it, but because of the distinguished, gray-haired man who was standing in front of the house, framed by the illumination coming from the front porch light.
The moment they pulled up in the driveway, Andrew Cavanaugh came down the stairs, a ready smile on his remarkably unlined face. She could see the resemblance as he approached the car. This was what Clay would look like in another thirty years.
Opening the passenger door, Andrew took her hand to help her out. “You must be Ilene.” His voice was warm, welcoming.
“Yes, I am,” she heard herself reply. She felt instantly at ease, as if she was in the presence of someone she could turn to with anything. It amazed her that someone she’d never met could make her feel that, just by the warmth of his smile.
“Welcome to my house,” he told her, his attention on the sleeping child in the back. “What is he, about five?”
“Four.” She hated lying. But if she said five, then Clay could easily do the math, easily realize that she had conceived Alex while they were still together.
“Big for his age.” Before she could say anything, Andrew had already opened the rear door and was scooping the boy out. “Been a long time since I held one of these in my arms.” Expertly he took the boy out without waking him. Looking at Ilene, he observed, “His hair’s dark.”
As dark as Clay’s was, she thought. Ilene pressed her lips together, wondering what the man was thinking. “His father had dark hair.”
Andrew’s eyes traveled toward his younger son a moment before he turned toward the front step. “Handsome boy,” he pronounced before walking back into the house.
Clay came up beside her. He held her suitcase in one hand, the laptop tucked under his arm. With his free hand he took her arm and guided her up the stairs in his father’s wake.
Panic reared its head, pushing aside the sense of well-being within her that Andrew had begun to build. “I don’t want to impose—”
Andrew heard her. “Impose?” There was an incredulous expression on his face as he turned to look at her. Holding Alex against him, he closed the door with his free hand. “I’ve got enough rooms in the house to turn it into a hotel,” he told her softly. “My two oldest are gone, and there are guest rooms besides that. You’re not imposing, girl, you’re keeping us from getting lonely.” He pointedly looked at his son over Alex’s head. “Isn’t that right, Clay?”
Clay set the suitcase down for a moment. “Whatever you say, Dad.”
“That’s a first,” Andrew commented, his words directed to the young woman his son had brought to him. “Usually, he likes nothing better than to butt heads with me. You partial to the first or the second floor, Ilene? I’ve got an empty bedroom on each.”
“First,” she said. It made her feel as if she could leave if she wanted to. Instantly she felt guilty at wanting to flee. The man was putting himself out on her account, and he didn’t even know her.
She followed him as he led the way to the rear of the house. He was still carrying her son. “You’re being incredibly accommodating.”
“Hear that, Clay?” Turning to look at his son over his shoulder, Andrew grinned. “I’m accommodating.” There were times when some, if not all, of his children thought of him as pigheaded and stubborn. They’d all tried, at one time or another, to gently talk him into accepting Rose’s death. But he refused. Because he knew she was alive.
“Sure, Dad.” Clay gave his father a look.
Andrew shook his head. “Teach your son early on never to talk back.” He shifted the boy in his arms, a smile of appreciation as he did so. Even the simple gesture made it clear that the man ached for a grandchild. “It’s something I overlooked doing. Not that you can teach this one anything.” He frowned in Clay’s direction. “Stubborn as a mule most of the time.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “I know.”
“Then you do know each other?” Stopping in front of a doorway, Andrew turned to look at her as he waited for an answer.
She took a breath before saying quietly, “A very long time ago.”
Okay, time to get the train back on the track. Clay elbowed his way in between his father and Ilene. “Dad, I didn’t bring Ilene here so you could practice interrogating someone.”
“Just being friendly, Clay. Something that comes naturally to me if not you.” He walked into one of the two guest rooms. “Here you go. I think you’ll be very co
mfortable here.” Very gently he placed Alex down in the middle of the bed. “The bathroom’s right through there,” he indicated a door inside the bedroom. “And the kitchen’s just down the hall. Speaking of which, is there anything I can get you?”
She shook her head. “No, you’ve already been more than kind.”
“Something warm to drink?” he suggested, then thought of the state her nerves were probably in. “Or maybe something a little stronger to calm your nerves? Just this once,” he tacked on, guessing at the protest rising to her lips.
Clay knew it was time to come to her rescue before his father started force-feeding her. “Her nerves are fine, Dad.”
Crossing back to the doorway, Andrew snorted. “Can’t see how that’s possible when she made the trip here with you driving.”
“Dad—”
Andrew raised his hands in front of him in mock, grudging surrender. “Backing away.” He cocked his head, looking around his son to his new house guest. “You’ve got the run of the place, Ilene. Feel free to use it.”
“Thank you.”
“I’d better let you get some rest,” Clay mumbled, half hoping she’d ask him to remain. But she didn’t, as he knew she wouldn’t, and he withdrew.
Ilene closed the door behind him.
“Like her smile,” Andrew said as they walked away from the room. Behind them, they heard her flip the lock. “Pretty girl.”
“Yes,” Clay agreed. And she’d only gotten more so, he thought. He looked at his father. “Thanks for letting them stay here.”
Andrew waved away the thanks and began to head for the stairs. “Don’t mention it.” Hand on the banister, he paused. “By the way.”
Clay raised his eyebrow, waiting. “Yes?”
“Is the boy yours?”
Chapter 6
“What?”
Clay felt as if he could have easily been knocked over by a moderate-size feather. Especially since his father had given voice to the question floating in the recesses of his own mind.
Stopping dead in his tracks, Clay looked at his father.
Crime and Passion Page 6