by Jule McBride
When she’d first begun working for Jefferson, Lillian had done some extra filing and accidentally found out about Big Apple Babies. Apparently, years ago, the seven secret philanthropists who were on the phone had anonymously donated start-up capital for the agency to Jake Lucas, who was now the head executive, not to mention Shane’s boss. At the time, Jake had been a dedicated prosecutor in the family court system.
Lillian had quickly discovered that her own boss, Jefferson, was one of the anonymous New York millionaires who’d started the agency. It was Jefferson’s secret charity that made Lillian decide to adopt from Big Apple Babies. When she’d announced her plans, she’d even hoped her wealthy boss might pull some strings, so she’d be sure to get a baby.
For all Lillian knew, Jefferson had. But Ethel had turned her down. And now she was about to marry Shane because of it. Her stomach fluttered nervously. The blood tests were done, and the next step was City Hall. Or Trinity Church. She’d decided a church wedding would lend credibility when Ethel asked about her and Shane’s marriage. Of course, that meant people at work had given her gifts, Jefferson was planning a small reception party and walking her down the aisle….
Into Shane’s arms. Those strong, hard, muscular arms that had made her shiver when he’d held her. Lillian could still feel the hard hot rain pelting her clothes, drenching her while he’d kissed her. And while she’d made clear she wouldn’t give in to the temptation again, she was now haunted by fantasies. What would it be like to make love to a man like Shane? A man who, like her, denied himself so much of what he needed?
Would you pay attention to the conversation, Lillian?
Jefferson was saying, “Well, the next time you do something like that, Tilford, let us know.”
Lillian frowned. The honorable Judge Tilford Winslow, the most unconventional judge in New York and another of Big Apple Babies’ secret financial backers, had recently faked a heart attack in his courtroom. Lillian would probably know why, if she could manage to pay attention. She bit back a sigh, wishing they’d talk about why singles couldn’t adopt. You’ll get Brandon, with Shane’s help. Don’t worry.
Everything would be fine if she didn’t pursue a physical relationship with Shane. But the kiss that had so thoroughly reawakened her would be impossible to forget. It had felt so right, as if Shane had been studying her intimately for years and yet her marriage to him was only to be temporary. Besides, he was a cop.
Her eyes strayed guiltily to Jefferson’s office, lingering on a bookcase. Behind it was Jefferson’s hidden safe. Only she and Jefferson had the combination, and Jefferson never scrutinized the contents.
At least Lillian hoped he never did.
Because in addition to his papers, she kept some secret documents of her own. Including everything pertaining to the three million dollars she’d taken the night she’d fled from Louisiana.
CHAPTER SIX
SHANE LEANED AGAINST the rail of the FBI boat that was docked at the Manhattan Yacht Club. “Lillian doesn’t have that money. Other than living under an assumed name, I don’t think she’s guilty of anything.”
Fin’s subordinates—four fresh-faced agents—hooted and slapped each other on the back. “I tell you,” one laughed. “That was a helluva kiss in the rain the other night!”
“And check out the pooch!”
Shane’s jaw set. Lone Star daintily pranced past, sniffing at deck chairs. Star-shaped barrettes kept her shaggy bangs out of her eyes, a red bandanna was around her neck, secured by a sheriff’s badge, and she wore red toenail polish. Shane would never live this one down. Or the kiss.
He’d been so caught in the moment, he’d forgotten there was a surveillance boat in the Hudson. Not that Shane gave a damn what the agents thought. They had no more right to spy on his private moments than he’d had to watch Lillian over the years. A cop could stake out a woman without completely invading her privacy. In the future, Shane would remember it.
Fin thankfully offered more sobriety than his assistants. “I’m sorry, Shane,” he was saying. “But you’re crossing the line. Thinking below the belt.”
Shane found the comment offensive. He wanted Lillian. But there were emotions involved. “You’re wrong. She hasn’t gotten to me.”
“Oh, Shane. Shane,” crooned the agent in falsetto.
He willed himself not to react. “I’ve been undercover countless times,” he said flatly. “I don’t lose perspective.”
There was a long silence.
As he stared around, trying to quell his frustration, he decided he hated Manhattan. As far as he was concerned, the Manhattan Yacht Club was even worse. It reeked of soulless men who reveled in money and power, thriving on the rat race and their own hostile games. Right now, the FBI boat was hemmed in between three mammoth yachts—named the Titan, the Machiavelli and the Bossman. Tired of torturing himself, he glanced at the skyscrapers; the miles of steel shot into the sky. Beneath them was the only place on earth where you could get vertigo from looking up, instead of down.
Unless you’re with Lillian. Propped on his elbow in the floor of her living room, gazing up into her eyes, Shane had felt that same vertigo. His life was spinning out of control in a whirlpool of emotion and energy he didn’t understand—or even want to understand—and which he was powerless to stop.
He tried again. “Our best bet is to come clean with the woman. We’ll talk to her, assure her we’ll protect her. She’ll tell us everything she knows.”
Fin merely stared at him. “What? Did you sleep with her?”
“You’ve no right to ask.” Shane kept his voice calm.
“I’ve done what I said I’d do. I’ve searched her apartment and office. The only place I haven’t searched is her boss’s office. It’s too open. But I’ve found nothing pertaining to the mob’s money.”
“She lives awful rich.”
“The apartment belongs to her boss. It’s a real estate investment. You know it checks out.”
“How can she afford those clothes?”
“Sales. She doesn’t really spend much on clothes.”
The agents rolled their eyes.
Shane had about had it. “You really expect me to marry her tomorrow?”
Fin said, “Yeah, I do.”
Shane grunted softly in frustration. “I guess you think we should wind up with a baby, too.” He glanced up the river promenade toward the apartment. Supposedly, he was walking Lone Star before the kids came, since it was Friday night and he and Lillian were baby-sitting. Not that Shane knew anything about baby-sitting. Or babies.
He thought of Brandon. Tomorrow’s wedding could bring Lillian closer to getting the baby. But he couldn’t allow it to happen. If she did get the child she so desperately wanted only to be arrested and have Brandon taken away, it would kill her.
“I can’t marry her.”
“If you back out now,” Fin said, “she’ll know something’s up. And Ethel Crumble agreed to interview you two immediately. Just follow through. It’s no big deal. It’s your job.”
Shane was about to explode. “No. Technically, I work for Big Apple Babies, as a security guard. That’s who pays me, Fin.”
“Don’t you care about who killed your uncle anymore?”
That was a low blow. Damn right, Shane cared. And he wouldn’t rest until the murderer was caught. His eyes narrowed with anger, but his voice was even. “If Lillian saw anything that night, we won’t find out this way. We need to talk to her.”
“You know, Shane,” Fin warned softly. “I’ve already got enough evidence to grill her about her involvement with the Ramsey crime consortium. On lesser charges, I could jail her by this afternoon. Do you want that?”
Of course not. He really hated these big-city types. “No.”
“The only way you can stay in the game is to marry her.”
“She doesn’t have the money.”
“Then I suggest you use this time to prove it.”
“I’ll do that.” There was nothin
g left to say. Turning curtly on his heel, Shane whistled, bringing Lone Star to his side.
“And Shane—” Fin yelled as the boat cast off, heading back out to anchor in the Hudson, in front of Lillian’s. “Look at the bright side. If you’re married to her, then you’d never have to testify against her.”
Fin did have a point there.
LILLIAN PUSHED ASIDE the pizza boxes and leaned next to Shane at the island counter near the living room. The kids were all fed, and now they were playing with Lone Star.
“Guess she’s the main attraction,” Shane said.
“No, you are.” The boys had been fascinated by Shane’s law-enforcement and Texas ranch experience, and the girls were attracted to his good looks. Shane didn’t mind the attention nearly as much as he kept professing.
She suddenly smiled. As she watched the kids, she noted that Benny and his twin, Jim, exhibited different styles despite their identical looks; Jim was riling the poor dog while Benny petted with slow deliberate strokes. Blond, waifish five-year-old Susan pranced around in a dazzle of bracelets and shiny nail polish, not about to dirty herself by petting anything less than a pedigreed champion, although her friend, Cass, gave her all, scratching Lone Star briskly.
Lone Star didn’t look nearly as enthusiastic as Cass.
Feeling the heat and hard strength of Shane’s body as he edged closer, Lillian glanced up, still smiling. Grinning back, Shane stretched his arm easily behind her. “So, you baby-sit Wall Street kids, huh?”
“Most Fridays. Though not for the past few weeks.”
He sighed. “I’d say Benny’s going to be the CEO, and Jim’ll be his right-hand man.”
Standing side-by-side with Shane, his arm draped casually around her, Lillian couldn’t help but notice how perfectly their bodies aligned. “So Jim’s the fall guy, huh?”
Shane nodded gravely. “Spurred on by nothing more than veiled suggestions, Jim’ll go for the throat of Benny’s enemies, vanquishing them by brute force.”
Lillian nodded at Ben, who was quietly lulling Lone Star with soft strokes. “Gentle Ben might slowly sneak up on everyone and emerge victorious.”
Shane raised an eyebrow. “If Cass lets him.”
Lillian’s shoulders shook with mirth. “So, you really think Cass’s good-hard-scratch approach wins out?”
Shane’s eyes settled on Lillian, flickering over the lace-edged scooped neckline of her floral sundress. “I’d say it’s a fifty-fifty. But soft stroking’s good. Depends on the context.” He shrugged. “Besides, Susan might be right. Sometimes no petting at all is best.”
Lillian arched an eyebrow. “It is?”
“Sure—” Shane’s quick smile sent a delicious shudder through Lillian, leaving her body weak. “The absence of all petting whets the appetite.”
Lillian’s cheeks warmed as she thought about the kisses she kept withholding from Shane. Was she merely building their desire? Thinking of how he’d held her, a slow shiver teased the space between her shoulders. Her voice stayed steady. “Hmm. Should our fictitious company be bracing itself for some sort of takeover?” Even as she said the words, another tactile memory of how good they’d been together came rushing back.
“Definitely.” Shane dragged a hand through his hair, but when he leaned and toyed with the lace edges of her dress sleeve, a wayward lock fell into his eyes again.
“It’ll be swift. Ruthless. A real power play.”
She chuckled. “Will I get any warning?”
He smiled. “Maybe one real slow shiver.”
She sent him a sideways glance. “What? No rumors of war?”
“Maybe a husky whisper.”
“Sounds like I’m in for a whole restructuring.”
Shane nodded. “I’m thinking in terms of a top-to-bottom rearrangement.”
There was no help for the sudden catch in her voice. “Sounds as if you’re very thorough when you take over.”
“All Wall Street raiders are,” he warned. “And we security guys are even worse…”
Lillian widened her eyes in mock terror. “You are?”
“Down and dirty. We open every door. Go for complete and total surrender of the company.”
“I take it you mean present company.”
“Yours alone.”
When their eyes met again, his smoldered, burning the hazy, hot smoky-blue of ashes. Awareness flickered in the depths and said he wanted more from her than this casual verbal sparring. He wanted the deeper things they could share. The things he’d been ready to give the night he kissed her in the rain. She realized she was having a good time again—feeling sexy again. And safe. She’d come to anticipate so many things—Shane’s presence, the warm comfort of sleeping with the dog, and this light banter.
She glanced over the playing kids, then leaning closer to Shane. “Tired of talking business?”
“Lillian, I was talking pleasure.”
“It’s not good to mix the two,” she quipped lightly.
“No, it’s not.”
She was surprised to see something strangely dark flit into Shane’s eyes. What was it—doubt? A warning? Lillian didn’t understand it. Didn’t Shane want to mix pleasure with their business-style marriage? Wasn’t that the point of this flirtation? Not that he cared about anything lasting. From day one, he’d made clear he wasn’t the marrying kind. Unable to follow his train of thought, Lillian glanced at the kids again.
They were so wonderful. Just watching them made her want a family. Her throat felt suddenly tight, and her eyes strayed back to Shane. His gray-blue shirt matched his eyes, and the dark stubble on his sculpted jaw made him look tougher than he really was. Nestled against him, she was keenly aware of the coiled strength in his body. He was a trained cop—she’d be a fool to forget it—and she sometimes thought he experienced his every breath as dangerous. His suspicious nature was evident in how his gaze periodically swept over the kids, and while Lillian feared his acute powers of observation, she also trusted him. At least, insofar as she could trust anyone.
“Hmm,” he finally said, staring at Lone Star. “I’m not sure my newly domesticated dog likes being the center of attention. Should I rescue her?”
“Not yet.” Stand here with me another few minutes. “You’re getting a little more domesticated yourself.”
“If you’re talking about my cooking, I wouldn’t read too much into it.” He shot her an easy smile. “It’s that or your TV dinners.” He suddenly squinted at her. “What? Are you thinking about putting barrettes in my hair next?”
“It would keep it out of your eyes.” Lifting a hand, she brushed away the fallen raven strand. “As undomesticated as you claim you are,” she couldn’t help but add, “I think you’d make a great dad. The kids like you.”
“Lillian,” he returned flatly. “I hate kids.”
She smiled. “You do not, Shane. And I refuse to be bamboozled by your lies.”
“As if you know me so well.”
“I do.”
That shadow Lillian didn’t understand filtered through Shane’s eyes again. He frowned. “What do you know about me so far?”
A lot. You’ve never let yourself love a woman because you fear you’re unable to protect the people you love. “I already know more about you than any other woman,” she reminded. “You told me that yourself.”
So far. Already. Did those words imply she and Shane had a future? She thought of the white lace dress wrapped in her closet in plastic and felt a twinge of panic. Everything was getting so complex, so involved.
Shane’s voice was oddly gruff. “Well, I guess you know enough about me to marry me tomorrow.”
But not enough to let me kiss you again. That’s probably what he wanted to say. Lillian felt so torn. But if they kissed again, it definitely wouldn’t stop at a kiss. She tried again to restore the lightness of their conversation. “Now, now,” she chided. “Let’s not take our upcoming marital roles too seriously.”
“Keep teasing me—” He q
uickly grabbed a finger she only now realized had settled on his chest. “And I swear, I’ll claim my marital rights tomorrow night.”
The kiss they’d shared was so powerful and urgent that she knew better than to taunt him, but she just couldn’t stop herself. “Oh, I’m so scared, Shane.”
This time his gaze lasered into hers, packing real heat, and the sparkle snuffed from his eyes. His voice turned strangely gentle. “Why would you be scared? If I claimed those rights, we’d both be in heaven.” His eyes drifted toward her lips. “You do know that. Don’t you, Lillian?”
Nothing more than his eyes touching her skin made her hot all over. “Yeah—” The word came on a hard breath. “But, Shane, we can’t get confused about what we’re doing here.”
“We’re getting married tomorrow.”
She forced a smile, determined to regain the light tone. “But just think, if we were really married, you’d have to deal with kids. And you just said you hate kids. So, when the baby comes…”
You’ll leave. The knowledge hit her all at once. Already her heart wrenched at losing him, but she was excited, too. “Oh, Shane,” she wound up continuing in a hushed tone, “I just hope this works. Marrying me to help me adopt Brandon was such a risky idea, but now I’m so…” Afraid it won’t work out. Or afraid we’ll get caught. Or afraid I’ll get the baby and not be a good mother. She settled on, “So excited.”
Everything had fallen into place. Right after the wedding, Ethel was going to interview them as a married couple. “Really, Shane, even if it doesn’t happen, I can never thank you enough for helping me try.”
Answering emotion was in his eyes. Against her instincts, Lillian dared to hope it was because he was coming to care for her. She’d memorized so many facts about his life, coaxing out family secrets, private hurts and dreams. At first, it was only because she wanted a caseworker to believe she loved him. But fact and fiction had blurred. The kiss they’d shared was real and more urgent than anything Lillian had ever known.
That Shane understood how much she wanted the baby had moved her from the beginning. Now she impulsively reached out. Beneath her fingertips, the rough whiskers on his jaw prickled. When he didn’t back away as he sometimes did, she stretched and kissed his cheek. The kids, still occupied with Lone Star, didn’t notice. “I mean it, Shane,” she said simply. “Thanks.”