by Pat Warren
Surely everyone in this huge room could hear the pounding of her heart, Tate thought. She hadn’t been able to refuse his father, not on his birthday in front of his entire family. So she’d danced and found she was having a good time. Funny how, when you don’t get out much and laugh hardly ever, you almost forget what it’s like. But Anthony Bennett was a real gentleman, as gallant as his son, and a darn good dancer. He’d had her swirling and turning like a pro in no time.
But when he’d let her go, she’d swung around and found Nick staring at her with such a look of longing that she’d been drawn to him like a magnet. She didn’t even question the fact that she wanted his arms around her, his warm breath on her face, his eyes telling her what his lips couldn’t say. Tate shifted fractionally closer and felt his response as his arms tightened and his big hand caressed her back through the soft cotton of her blouse.
Nick was so different from the men she’d known. They’d all taken one look at her lush figure and ogled her embarrassingly, finding lame excuses to come into physical contact with her, scarcely waiting until they drove her home from a date to begin kissing and fondling. Tate shuddered at the memories, the attention she’d never sought that had caused her to reject the male of the species. Not one of them had looked behind the facade of her face and figure to the woman beneath, the real person inside the package. Not even the one man she’d trusted with her heart.
But not Nick. The most he’d done was touch her hand or slip his arm around her waist as he walked with her. He hadn’t even asked her to dance; she’d more or less invited him by walking into his arms. Even now, he didn’t hold her tightly, but let her make the choice of moving closer. Somehow he instinctively knew that overt moves would turn her off, but tenderness would win her.
A man, a cop yet, who could be so thoughtful, so sensitive. Would wonders never cease?
If this was wrong, if this was a mistake, if soon she’d awaken from this dream into harsh reality, so be it. For now, she was in the arms of a man who moved her more powerfully than any before him, feeling a sensual pull she’d all but forgotten, wishing this song could go on and on and on.
Nick turned her hand and pressed her fingers to his heart, placing his own hand atop hers, letting her feel the way his heart was pounding, pounding for her. His head was spinning with the sweet scent of her, yet no one watching could tell from his serious face. Tate could tell, though. He was certain she knew what he was feeling. Easing her closer, he felt her rise on tiptoe to press her cheek to his, her body swaying with his as he bent his head. There was no need for words, even if he could think of the right ones.
Don’t let this one get away, Sam had advised him. Don’t worry, Sam, Nick thought, touching his lips to the silk of her hair. This one’s mine.
Returning from the rest room, Maggie paused before sitting back down, her eyes settling on Tate and Nick dancing. His mother was watching them, too, she noticed. Didn’t they make a fine couple? Maggie couldn’t help thinking. They surely danced like two people in love. It warmed her heart to see Tate finally at long last warm up to a man. And Nick Bennett was a fine man from a lovely family. If only this would work out, Maggie thought prayerfully. And if only the madman stalking them would be caught and put away.
Careful of her cast, she sat down next to Roseanne Bennett who spoke to her softly.
“She’s certainly a lovely woman,” Roseanne commented, wondering why her Nickie hadn’t mentioned Tate before suddenly showing up with her.
“Yes, she is, both outside and inside,” Maggie told her reassuringly. She couldn’t blame Nick’s mother for being curious. “She hasn’t a mean bone in her body.”
Roseanne pulled her gaze from the young people and looked at Maggie. “I’m glad to hear that. They haven’t known each other very long, though, have they?”
Maggie shook her head. “Sometimes it doesn’t take long.”
Roseanne chuckled, then smiled. “I know. I married Anthony after knowing him two weeks. We ran away together because I was only seventeen. I thought my father was going to throttle the both of us when we finally went back.” She gazed fondly at her husband of forty-three years as he swayed on the sidelines with his six-month-old granddaughter. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“When it’s right, it’s right,” Maggie said, remembering her Elroy and all their happy years together.
Roseanne’s gaze slid to Josh who was playing some kind of card game with two of her grandsons at the next table. “Does he see his father much?”
“Never. That man was Tate’s one and only mistake.”
Roseanne nodded. “We all make a few.”
The song ended to applause and a few whistles. On the dance floor, Tate and Nick stopped, eased slightly apart, each studying the other. He was the first to break the silence.
“I thought you said you couldn’t dance.”
“You can do almost anything if you have the right partner,” she said, knowing it was true in more important things than dancing. Turning, her gaze searched the room for her son and found Josh involved with the two boys he’d eaten with. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are to have such a family?” she asked as they strolled back to the table.
“Yeah, I do.” He stopped her at the edge of the dance floor. “I’m who I am because of them.”
“I believe you are. Strong, honest, courageous.” And sexy. Oh, Lord, she had to get out of there before her face gave her away. “I’d better get Josh home. It’s getting late and I have to get him up early for that day camp before I go to work.”
He stopped her from walking away with a hand on her arm. “Tate, I…”
She swung back, the mood changed. “Please, Nick. Don’t let’s say anything more right now.”
A smart man knows when to stay, when to fold. “All right. You get Josh and I’ll get Maggie.”
It took another twenty minutes for the four of them to make the rounds and say goodbye to everyone. Nick’s mother hugged him a long moment. “She’s very beautiful, Nickie. Be careful, son.”
He kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mama.”
On the way to the car, Josh was more talkative than ever. “Look, Nick,” he said, holding up a Pokémon card. “Charizard. It’s a real special one I’ve been wanting. It’s one of the best and Jimmy gave it to me.”
“Hey, that’s great.” Nick unlocked the doors.
“Just gave it to you?” Tate asked as she settled Maggie into the front passenger seat where she’d be more comfortable. “Even though you had nothing to trade him?” She knew a little how the game worked.
“Yeah, he had a double.” Josh buckled himself into the back seat. “Jimmy and Anthony asked if maybe I can go over to their house sometime with my collection. Can we, Mom?”
“We’ll see,” Tate said, climbing in beside her son, giving the standard stall answer.
Nick started the car, his eyes in the rearview mirror capturing Tate’s. “I think that could be easily arranged.” He shifted into gear and wound his way out of the crowded parking lot.
But Tate wasn’t so sure. If she allowed Josh to get close to Nick’s relatives, he’d inevitably be hurt when Nick finished their case and stopped coming around. Studying the back of his dark head, the black hair her fingers even now itched to touch, she wondered what he was feeling. Was he beginning to genuinely care or was he just a smart man who was using a clever tactic to get her into bed, then walk away?
If only she could trust him, but she was afraid to.
Maggie was dozing and Josh sound asleep when Nick pulled up in front of their home. “Why don’t you help Maggie and I’ll carry Josh to his bed?” he suggested.
Surprised, Tate agreed, awakening the older woman and helping her inside, telling Nick that Josh’s room was the first one at the top of the stairs. She got Maggie settled and noticed that Nick still hadn’t come down. She went up and stopped at the doorway to her son’s room.
He’d turned down the bed, undressed the limp sleeping boy
and managed to put on his pajama bottoms, leaving on his T-shirt so he wouldn’t wake him by yanking it over his head. Tate watched as he settled Josh’s head on the pillow and arranged the sheet and light blanket over him. Unaware she was there, he straightened and stood for a moment, looking down at the boy. Then he bent and stroked his hair before drawing the drapes and adjusting the night-light. Walking to the door, he spotted her and smiled.
“It seems you’ve done duty as a sitter a time or two,” she commented as they went downstairs.
“Oh, yeah. The single uncle gets recruited often.” At the door, he turned to her.
“You don’t sound as if you mind.”
“I don’t. I love kids. Josh is great.” He paused, wanting nothing on earth more than to reach out, to pull her close, to kiss her. But instead, he gave her a tight smile. “I hope you had a good time.”
“I did. We all did. Thank you, Nick.” She waited, leaving the ball in his court.
Nick reached up and trailed the backs of his fingers along her cheek and her satin throat, feeling her pulse leap, noticing her eyes darken as they stayed fixed on his. “Good night, Tate.” He turned and went through the door, pulling it closed behind him. She’d probably never know that walking away from her just then was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
Struggling with opposite emotions of relief and disappointment that he hadn’t kissed her, Tate slowly slid the dead bolt home. Yes, Nick Bennett was certainly different.
Would she have stopped him if he’d have tried to kiss her? Not in this lifetime, she thought as she made her way upstairs. How had he managed to slip past all her firm resolutions?
Chapter 5
Nick leaned back in his desk chair and scrubbed his face with one hand, holding the phone in his other. “Okay, Mama, why don’t you quit stalling and tell me what’s on your mind?” As if he didn’t know. It was the Tuesday after his father’s Friday night birthday bash and his mother had called with some excuse or another every single day.
“What do you mean? I can’t call my son just to say hello?”
“Come on. Fess up. You’ll feel better. What do you want me to do or where do you want me to go or, God forbid, who have you invited over for me to meet?” He tried putting a smile in his voice, but this game was wearing thin. He wondered if Roseanne ever stopped to think that he was nearly thirty-four.
“I don’t pick your dates. But, speaking of that, have you seen Tate Monroe since the party?”
There it was, at last. “No. Should I have?”
“You tell me, Nickie.”
He was having trouble hiding his exasperation. “All right, I’ll tell you. Tate is involved in a case I’m working on, as I mentioned on Friday. Maggie’s home was invaded and Tate and her son live with Maggie. They don’t have much family, any of them, so I invited them to Dad’s party because I thought they’d enjoy being with a nice bunch of people like my family. Was I wrong to do that?”
“No, of course not. They were all three very nice. Papa liked her. He danced with her, even. But not like you danced with her. I had three friends mention to me that dance.”
Nick’s parents had both been born in Arizona, but to immigrant parents straight from Italy, which left them with a bit of an accent that seemed odd for first-generation Americans. So the busybodies had been calling his mother about him dancing with a woman they’d never seen before. Interesting.
“Mama, there was nothing wrong with that dance.” Although he’d relived it himself more than once. “Your friends are just nosy and maybe should mind their own business, eh?”
“They’re interested, that’s all, Nickie. I know, your life is your own. I don’t want to meddle.”
But she did, anyhow, he thought. What in hell did she want from him? “I don’t know what else to tell you. Tate and I are just friends, okay?”
“Okay, Nickie. Except, watching you dance, I thought you were more than just friends.”
He decided to test her. “Would that be a problem for you, if we became more than just friends?”
“Oh, well, I don’t know. She’s lovely, that’s for sure. And Josh is a nice boy. But, well, you know, Nickie. She’s divorced and Papa and me, we always wanted a big church wedding for you.”
Never mind what he might want. He reined in his temper, certain his mother meant well. All right, let’s see how much she can handle. “Actually she’s not divorced, Mama. She never married Josh’s father.”
“Ohhhhh.”
Who said one word couldn’t speak volumes? Nick thought. “Mama, I think it’s a little premature to be thinking along these lines. How about we table this discussion for now? If and when things get more serious, I’ll be sure to update you. Okay?”
Clearly caught off guard, his mother made some sort of noncommittal sound.
Now he was getting annoyed. “Look, I…” Someone across the bullpen was signaling to him to pick up Line Two. “I’ve got to go, Mama. I’ll talk with you later. I love you.” He clicked off, feeling a momentary guilt twinge, then smiled when he heard who was on the other line. “Hey, Eddie, have you got what I ordered?”
“Sure do,” Eddie Farantino said. “Just got your message. Come by anytime and I’ll have everything ready.”
“Great. Thanks.” He disconnected, checked his watch, then dialed a number he’d already memorized. When Maggie answered, he asked how she was feeling.
“I’m good, Nick. Tate’s not home yet. She had to work late, some sort of children’s storytime she’s started at the bookstore.”
“Maybe I’ll drop by Brennan’s and check it out. I have a surprise for Josh that I want to run by her.”
“A surprise? How nice of you, Nick. I won’t tell him.”
“Is he there with you?”
“Yes. I’m much better now and he really didn’t like that day camp. He minds me…he’s no problem.”
“Great. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
Hanging up, Maggie smiled. That boy wasn’t about to give up on a difficult project. And Tate was certainly that. She’d noticed that, since the birthday party, Tate had been quieter evenings, more thoughtful. And Maggie would bet she knew exactly who Tate’s thoughts centered around as she sat staring out the window, an unread open book in her lap.
Scooting off the couch, Maggie found herself looking forward to Nick’s visit.
Dave Anderson was behind the circular Information Desk when Nick walked into Brennan’s, and the assistant manager spotted him immediately. Walking over, Nick noticed that although it was past six in the evening—the hour most people were home thinking about dinner—the store was even more crowded than during his last visit. Dave pushed his horn-rimmed glasses back up his nose and smiled at Nick.
“Hello, Detective. Are you looking for Tate?”
“Matter of fact, I am.”
“She’s over there,” Dave told him, pointing to a tiered and carpeted corner at the back of the large room. “She recently began a story hour where she reads to preschoolers. As you can see from the crowd, it’s very popular.”
Nick gazed past half a dozen tables of books featuring specialty reads and spotted Tate sitting on the top step. On either side of her were two children under five, their little faces turned toward her, listening hard. On the lower step and along the apron of the storybook area were at least a dozen more preschoolers. Several parents stood around in a semicircle while others hung back, browsing through books along the wall shelves.
“Thanks, Dave,” Nick said, his eyes on Tate as he slowly made his way over to where she held the attention of so many little ones. She was wearing the standard Brennan’s uniform of black linen slacks and white blouse with the store’s emblem on the pocket. But the thing he noticed most was that her hair was loose, hanging straight and shiny to just past her shoulders. A shaft of sunlight through a mosaic window in the rear wall shone down, bringing out the red highlights in her hair and creating a visual that had Nick wishing he had a camera.
He st
ood just outside the adult circle, watching and listening. The story was about a gopher named Gomer who didn’t like going down gopher holes, was afraid of the dark and wanted to live in the sunshine, confusing all the other little gophers. The lightly veiled message was about others making you conform and how it’s all right to be different. Nick wasn’t sure the young children understood, but when Tate finished and began asking questions about the story they’d just heard, he was surprised at how many had gotten the gist of it. A few had gone on to embellish the author’s version.
He’d known she liked kids by how much she obviously loved her son. But to see her like this, relaxed, unaware he was watching, playing to the most natural audience in the world, he saw how much in her element she was. Tate Monroe should have a passel of kids of her own and a loving husband to go with the package.
Swallowing hard, Nick wondered if he belonged in that picture, if she’d even want him to be or want any man if what Maggie hinted at about her past life was true.
A little redheaded girl who looked to be about four, seated close alongside Tate, had launched into a story of her own and Tate listened seriously, letting her know that what she had to say was important. When the little boy on the other side of her began to squirm impatiently, Tate took him onto her lap and involved him in the story without skipping a beat. When the little girl finished, Tate stood and announced the end of Storybook Hour for this week, thanking them all for coming and informing the parents where they could find the book about Gomer the Gopher. Several children rushed up to her, offering hugs, in a spontaneous gesture of affection.
Smiling, she stroked a boy’s curly hair and tied a toddler’s shoe as the parents moved to collect their little ones. The parents walked away, most with books in their hands, and headed for the cashier. Brennan’s had a little gold mine here, Nick thought as he stepped closer.
Tate straightened from picking up the pile of books and turned before she became aware of Nick Bennett quietly watching her. “I didn’t know you liked to be read to,” she said with just a hint of nerves. Would she always have that quick tug, that skipped heartbeat when she first saw him?