"Am I dying?" Her expression was somber as she looked from one to another.
"Don't exaggerate, Mom," Riley chided. "We show up here. Occasionally," she tagged on, anticipating her mother's response.
"Not en masse," Lila pointed out. "You only do that at Thanksgiving and Christmas—and certain birthdays if I threaten you with bodily harm."
"And now we show up for Clint Eastwood movies," Zack told her. He turned on the set and then draped both arms over the back of the sofa, making himself even more comfortable.
Frank was already on his way to the kitchen. "Got any chips?" he asked, his voice drifting back to them.
Since they'd moved out, she made it a point not to have too much junk food around. The temptation to eat it was hard to resist. She only stocked up when she knew one of them might be dropping by.
"I'm afraid I'm fresh out of chips," Lila confessed. "But I have beer."
"Have no fear," Riley announced, pulling a small yellow package out of what Zack maintained was the largest purse on the North American continent. "I brought popcorn." She grinned at her mother. "What's a Clint Eastwood movie without popcorn?"
"Stop talking and start popping," Frank ordered, pointing toward the microwave oven standing on the kitchen counter.
Riley narrowed her eyes at the youngest member of the family. Frank was easily the tallest of them. "Watch who you're ordering around, baby brother."
"Watch that baby stuff," he countered without missing a beat. "You're only eleven and a half months older than me."
Riley chucked Frank under the chin, something she knew annoyed him. "And don't you forget it, Francis," she deliberately drew out his given name, then glanced over her shoulder at her mother just before she went into the kitchen to place the kernel-filled bag into the microwave. "Honestly, Mom, I don't know how you put up with these others."
There was a lot of love here, Lila thought, scanning the room. She saw Frank slide bonelessly into a chair beside the sofa. "Just lucky, I suppose."
Lila turned toward Zack, knowing that he was the one who most likely organized this gathering. She and her oldest were always a little bit more in sync than the others. More than anyone, he knew how to get to her and what made her happy. Beneath his dark good looks and his steely exterior, he was a sensitive boy.
Man, she silently corrected herself. At twenty-six, Zack Anthony Mclntyre was a man—even though, on occasion, she still thought of him as her little boy. The little boy who, at the age often, had thrown himself in front of her to protect her from Ben when his anger was getting the better of him. He would have wound up striking Zack had she not pulled the boy back. To his credit, Ben had stormed out of the house, cursing, rather than allowing the situation to escalate.
Over the years Zack never said a word against his father, but of all of them, he was the one who really knew what Ben could be like.
He'd grown up too fast, she thought now. She wished she could give him those years back. Those years when he should have been a happy-go-lucky little boy instead of a little man, burdened with things he shouldn't have even known about.
She crossed over to the sofa.
"What channel did you say Dirty Harry was on?" Lila asked Zack, nodding toward the forty-inch plasma TV that he and his siblings had given her as a Christmas present last year.
He paused to think for a second. "I think it's channel sixty-one."
Lila glanced at the TV screen. The upper right-hand corner said that the set was currently on channel seven. Then eight. Then nine. Zack was pressing the up arrow on the remote control's channel selector.
A typical male move, she thought.
"Why don't you just punch in sixty-one?" she suggested.
But Zack merely grinned at her as the channels continued to zip by one at a time. "I like doing it my way."
Taylor huffed as she bounced down beside him on the sofa.
"Mind like a steel trap," she complained. Then, lest he miss her meaning, added, "Rusted shut." Pretending she wasn't there, Zack went on going through the channels one by one. Rolling her eyes, Taylor put out her hand. "Give me that," she demanded.
Zack ignored her outstretched hand. "Never come between a man and his remote control."
Her green eyes darting toward her mother, Taylor had the good grace to swallow the name she was going to call him.
"Popcorn's ready," Riley announced, carrying a huge blue bowl into the room.
"About time," Frank told her.
"Keep it down, the movie's starting," Zack said needlessly.
Ben'd had more than his share of faults, Lila thought as she took her seat beside Taylor, but he had given her four wonderful children. That alone absolved him of a multitude of sins.
* * *
Chapter 7
« ^ »
She dreamed of him that night.
Not of Brian, even though she'd fallen asleep thinking about him, but of Ben. The dream was so real, she could feel herself breaking out into a weakening, cold sweat.
Lila felt a presence hovering over her in the bedroom. Ben.
Lost in the depths of sleep, her heart hammering, she struggled to pry open her eyes. She failed several times. Each lid felt glued shut, impossible to lift. Even though she was dreaming, Lila knew, just knew, that if she could only open her eyes, could only look around, she'd see she was alone. And then her heart would stop hammering.
Finally, after what seemed like eternity, she managed to open her eyes. The sound of heavy breathing accosted her, making her heart jump again.
It was only after a few moments had passed that she realized there was no one standing over her, that the heavy breathing she heard was coming from her. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been in the room with her. That their essence still lingered, clinging to every surface in her bedroom.
Turning on the lamp revealed no one standing in the shadows or taking shelter behind her drapes.
She was alone. And maybe going a little crazy.
Duchess was on the floor beside her bed. The dog raised her head as if to ask, "Why d'you put the light on?"
The aging German shepherd appeared completely at ease and, after a beat, Duchess put her head down again. If there'd been an intruder, Duchess would have barked. She barked at the mail carrier each time a new one showed up on the doorstep. Duchess was leery of strangers until she became used to them.
The dog would have barked if someone had slipped into the bedroom. Right?
Lila sat up, feeling wide awake and exhausted at the same time. Her head ached as thoughts scrambled about her brain. Duchess wouldn't have barked at someone she knew.
Someone like Ben.
"Stop it, Ben's dead," Lila upbraided herself. "You buried him so he damn well better have been dead at the time."
But she couldn't free herself of the feeling that someone had been watching her. That someone had been here, in the house, after the movie had ended and Zack, Taylor, Riley and Frank had all kissed her and gone their separate ways.
"Some police officer you are," she jeered out loud, "seeing ghosts in the shadows."
Lila took a long breath, trying to steady her nerves. Trying to calm down.
She'd almost succeeded when she saw it.
A leaf beneath the windowsill.
A lone leaf highlighted against the light gray rug. Dropped by someone coming in? By someone leaving?
Most likely, she silently insisted, it was just a leaf that had clung to Duchess's coat when she'd taken one of her numerous runs into the backyard. It just so happened that the leaf had fallen off in the middle of the night.
Made sense, right?
But sense or not, an uneasiness continued to spread through her.
She was about to turn off the light again when the phone rang. Lila stifled a scream as her heart launched itself into triple-time. She stared at the telephone accusingly when it rang again.
Brian had told her to let the machine pick up any calls, but she couldn't bring he
rself to just sit here, waiting for the phone to ring three more times before the answering machine switched on.
Making the decision to end this once and for all, Lila yanked the receiver up and held it against her ear. "Look, you sick, perverted scum, you keep this up and I'm going to track you down and trust me, you really don't want me to do that."
"Oh, I don't know, it sounds promising," the deep male voice on the other end said. "What do you intend to do after you track me down?"
Lila was stunned speechless. Almost. "Brian?" she asked uncertainly. It was eleven-thirty at night, what was he doing calling so late?
As if he'd just heard her thoughts, he said, "Yes. Sorry if I'm calling so late but I wanted to check in on you." He paused for a second, as if trying to decide how to word what he was about to say. "And to ask if you had any trouble with Zack." He hadn't called any earlier because he thought Zack might still be there and he didn't want Lila catching any grief over his expression of concern.
Her mind summoning the movie they'd all just watched, she didn't understand what Brian was referring to. "Trouble?"
"You know, with his walking in on us like that..." His voice trailed off.
She had no idea why, but Brian's concern about the impression he might have made on her son seemed sweet somehow. He obviously cared what her family thought. Relieved that it was Brian on the other end of the line and not her night caller, she let the sound of his voice fill the room. It comforted her.
Scooting back on the bed, she leaned against the headboard. "On the contrary," she laughed. "He's given his permission."
It was Brian's turn not to follow. "Excuse me?"
"His permission," she repeated. "For us to see one another. Zack seemed to think that he walked in on a date."
Permission, huh? It had been a long time since he'd felt the need to obtain permission to see someone. The thought made him smile. It was absolutely true. The more things changed, the more they actually stayed the same. "Well, he did."
"We were just catching up on old times," she protested, choosing not to think about the kiss and where it might have led if Zack hadn't walked into the house just then—or if he'd walked in ten minutes later.
Lila banked down her thoughts. She definitely did not want to go there.
She heard him laugh. "I'm not sure if you know this, but you can do that on a date. Catch up," he added in case she'd lost track of the point.
She pretended not to hear him. "And I was asking for your help."
"Ditto, see above."
Giving up, Lila laughed. Duchess moved over closer to her and raised her head to be scratched. Lila obliged. "Have it your way."
"Now there's something I never tire of hearing," Brian said. The pause that followed seemed to drag itself out. "Lila, is there anything wrong?"
"No."
She'd answered that too quickly, she thought. And Brian had always been good about picking up on tones and reading in between the lines.
The next moment he proved her right because he asked, "But?"
Sighing, she dragged her hand through her hair. If she told him about her dream, about the leaf, he was going to think she was behaving like some addle-brained woman afraid of her own shadow.
"It's nothing."
He wasn't accepting excuses. "Let me be the judge of that."
Taking a breath, she dove in. "All right. After the kids left—" She was getting ahead of herself, she realized. "Zack wasn't the only one who came over, the others came after you went home. Anyway, after they left and I went to bed, I fell asleep. I woke up when it felt like there was someone else in the house, in my room." Damn, that sounded so lame. "I guess I was just having a bad dream."
But Brian wasn't so quick to dismiss her feeling. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." She licked her lower lip. "No." And then she sighed again. "Maybe."
"Well, I think that covers the entire spectrum," he told her philosophically. "I'll be right over."
Guilt immediately jumped onto center stage. "I didn't mean for you to come over."
"I outrank you, Lila," he informed her. "I'm coming over." And then he gave her another option. "Unless you want to call one of your kids and have them come over instead."
They'd already covered that when she'd came to his office to tell him about the phone calls. "I don't want them worrying about me and I definitely don't want them to think their mother is losing her mind."
'Then it's settled," he said with finality. "I'm coming over. I can be there in twenty minutes."
"This isn't necessary."
But she was making her protest to a dial tone.
* * * * *
Brian wasn't over in twenty minutes, he was over in fourteen.
Lila opened the door the moment he placed his thumb on the doorbell. "You got here fast."
He tried not to notice that she wore a black silk robe, or that the sides seemed to drift apart with every word she uttered. He waited for her to step to the side. When she did, the robe slipped a little farther apart. The nightgown beneath wasn't nearly thick enough.
"One of the perks of being the chief of detectives," he said as he walked in. "I get to use the siren when I need to."
She closed the door behind him. "I feel guilty having you come over."
"Don't," he told her, turning around to face her. He deliberately focused on her eyes. "You didn't ask, I offered, remember? Besides, I wasn't sleeping anyway."
"But you said you had an early morning," she reminded him.
"Meetings can be rearranged." Her peace of mind came first. Now that she had finally sought him out, he wasn't about to be cavalier about it. Walking into the living room, he crossed to the sofa and sat down. "You can go back to bed."
He seemed to be settling in for the duration. "And you're going to—what, spend the night just sitting there?"
He smiled as he nodded. "That's the plan."
She wasn't a child. She didn't have to have her hand held. Imposing like this on Brian was wrong. "I tell you what, you can watch me double-check the locks on the doors and windows and then you can go home."
His eyes met hers. His were smiling. "Better idea, I'll watch you double-check the locks on the doors and windows and then you go to bed while I take the couch. Think of it as just another stakeout, except more comfortable."
"That was ten years ago."
"Eight," he corrected her. He remembered, to the day, when she first left the force.
"Eight," she echoed. "That's still a long time ago."
Age wasn't something he dwelled on. He still thought of himself as being thirty-two. He still logged in time at the gym whenever he got the chance. "Not much has changed."
The years had been kind to him, she thought fondly. But they had still gone by. "Except time."
Brian arched an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me that I'm getting old?"
Lila laughed. "No, never that." And then she sighed, sitting down beside him. Her robe parted even further. With a swift movement, she drew the two sides back together. "This is my fault. I should have never said anything to you when you called."
"I would have known anyway."
Something skittered through her. Being here like this with him, in her home, alone except for the dog, seemed suddenly extremely intimate to her. She was acutely aware that she was nude beneath the robe and nightgown.
Her breath grew a little shorter but she did her best to sound flippant. "Oh, you've added mind-reading to your list of abilities?"
"Not mind-reading, just being in-tuned to certain people." There was a time when he'd thought of them as being two halves of a whole. They'd worked well together, anticipating one another. Acting in concert. "You and I worked very closely for over six years. I got to know the way you thought—just like you got to know how I thought."
She couldn't take her eyes off his. Lila felt a hypnotic pull inside her gut. Why was the air suddenly standing still around her?
"Meaning?"
Had she really f
orgotten how close they'd been? He couldn't bring himself to believe that. "You knew that if you said that you thought someone had gotten into the house—even if you dismissed it the next moment as your imagination—I'd come over on the chance that it was actually true."
"No, I—" The denial faded from her lips. Her face flushed slightly as she shrugged. The silk robe slid off her shoulder and she tugged it back into place. "All right," she admitted. "Maybe, in a moment of weakness, I did. But I'm sorry now." Lila glanced away. "I guess I'm not as fearless as I used to be."
He saw how hard that was for her to admit. Very gently, his fingers beneath her chin, he turned her head so that she was looking at him again. "That's a shame. I really liked that fearless girl."
Lila laughed shortly, shaking her head. "I haven't been a girl in a very long time."
"I disagree." His smile seemed to go straight to her stomach and havoc ensued. "To me, you'll always be a girl-It felt as if his eyes were touching her. Breathing was becoming tricky. "Brian?"
His name was barely a whisper on her lips. Why did that excite him so? "Yes?"
It seemed like an effort to get each word out. "Just how long are you going to keep talking before you kiss me?"
He framed her face with his hands. "I think I've just run out of things to say."
"Good."
The last word vibrated against her lips as Brian brought his mouth down to hers. Instantly he felt his body responding, aching, wanting her with a fierceness that was all but overwhelming.
But reason still prevailed and with a great deal of reluctance, he forced himself to draw his head back instead of deepening the kiss. "I'm not going to be much of a bodyguard if I'm going to be this close to your body."
If he stopped now, she was going to self-destruct, she just knew it. "I don't need someone guarding my body," Lila told him.
To underscore her statement, Lila nipped his lower lip with her teeth, then slid the tip of her tongue along it. His sharp intake of breath told her that she was driving him just as crazy.
Placing her hand over his, she guided it to her breast. Something wild began beating in her chest.
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