She shook off the thought and pulled her hair back into a pony-tail. Mascara pooled under her eyes from tears and fatigue. She wiped her face with a damp cloth. Stevie T stretched out on the bed and let out a soft meow—obviously annoyed his human-sized heating pad had dared leave the bed. She reached across the sheets, scratched Stevie under the chin, and called the NICU to check on her patients, especially Baby S. Everything was status quo according to the charge nurse.
Walking down the hallway, she spotted Tony in the kitchen. He had his back to her and was standing over the stove, stirring a pot full of something. “That smells wonderful,” she said.
He turned around, spoon in hand, and smiled. “This is one of my mother’s specialties—Puttanesca sauce.”
“Yum. But why did you do this?”
“I figured you probably had a hell of a day and a nice meal would do you some good.” He handed her a glass of red wine.
She raised her brows. “Is this part of the patrol job? Or maybe I’m getting the upgraded version?”
He laughed. “Technically it’s my night off.”
“Oh. What gives?” Her stomach sunk.
“I thought we might be able to talk some more.”
“And…?”
“Well, I…I’m working this case and you are a part of my case, and…oh god damn, I was just trying to do something nice.”
She looked down. “I’m sorry. I appreciate it. Can we start over?”
“Sure.”
She held up her glass. “To starting over.”
He clinked glasses with her and they each took a sip.
Kelly sat down at the kitchen counter and drank her wine. “I’m sorry if I seemed ungrateful. I guess I’m not used to anyone making me dinner, and considering the circumstances, I definitely didn’t expect you to.”
“I’m sure you didn’t, but just because I’m a cop doesn’t mean I don’t have a heart. I wanted to do this.” He took a spoon and skimmed the top of the sauce. Holding his hand underneath, he carefully reached it across the counter and offered her a taste.
Kelly took a bite, feeling awkward at the intimacy of the moment, but the earthy, tangy taste of the sauce instantly removed the tension. “Oh my goodness, that is delicious!”
He smiled and nodded. “I know.”
His smile was pretty damn delicious, too.
As he continued to fix dinner and Stevie T found Kelly’s lap, their conversation turned toward family. They were both trying to avoid discussing murder, sick babies, or why Tony was there in the first place.
“Tell me about your little boy,” she said.
“Ah well, he’s a great kid. He really is.”
“I’m sure.”
“It hasn’t been easy though. Raising him. Not because he’s a bad kid, obviously.” He laughed.
“My parents are getting older and they really help me out a lot. Without having a mom around, it has been kind of hard. We lost her to cancer. The docs did everything possible but she lost the battle after two years. I think the hardest part for me to deal with is knowing he will never really understand how much his mother loved him. I mean, I can tell him, but he’ll never know first-hand.” He looked at her and she felt herself getting drawn in by his dark, magnetic eyes.
“Don’t be so sure about that. Your little boy will know exactly how much his mom loved him.”
He glanced at her quizzically. “What do you mean? What makes you so sure?”
“My mom died when I was a little girl. A car accident. Rainy night and, well…” she waved a hand, fighting tears. “Lost control of the car. I was seven. I’m not sure how old your son was when his mom died.”
“Only two.”
Kelly nodded. “He’ll still know. I see babies every day. Very sick kids. And I see their parents. I see very devoted, loving parents, I see some who are disconnected, detached…and then there are those who never show up. The babies who thrive are the ones with family who come every day, who talk to them, and, if they can, hold them. My little strugglers are those babies who have no one outside the medical staff to care for them. Of course, we love them and do what we can to make them feel cared for and wanted, but there is something about having a parent there, and the maternal bond is very strong. I am certain your son was bonded to your wife, who was probably a wonderful person.”
“She was. She really was.”
“I also know first-hand what it’s like being a kid who lost a parent at a young age. Like I said, I was seven. Not as young as Lucas, but still young enough, and when my mom died, I thought I would forget her. It scared me. But you know what?”
“What’s that?” He poured her another glass of wine.
“Whenever I am feeling really down or things are not going well—kind of like lately—I feel a warm presence around me. It’s hard to explain, but I know it’s my mom. I know she’s guiding me in some way. And I know she is letting me know things are going to be all right. I am sure Lucas can feel that sometimes.” She laughed wryly. “I don’t mean to sound hokey.”
He sighed and smiled at her, shaking his head. “You know, you’re not hokey at all, Doc. In fact, I think you’re pretty cool. You surprise me at every turn.”
She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Stevie T let out a meow, breaking the tension. She laughed. “Stevie T is rather opinionated.”
“I guess so,” Tony said.
“Feed him once and you will have a friend for life.”
He grimaced. “Yeah, see me and cats…we don’t really do well together.”
“Oh, you’re one of those cat haters?”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “I’m a dog guy. Lost my shepherd last year on a bust.”
“Oh wow. I am sorry.” The poor man had definitely had his share of troubles.
“Yeah. So, no cats.”
“You never know, Stevie T is special. He might grow on you.”
“Hmm. Not too sure about that, but I suppose stranger things have happened. So, you know a little bit about me and my family. What’s your story?” he asked.
“I grew up in Kentucky. Lexington.”
“Horse country.”
She smiled. “Yep. Blue grass all the way.”
“Horses?”
“Of course. My dad was an assistant trainer for years and then finally saved up enough and is now doing his own training. He might even have one or two horses in his barn this year who could win him some big money.”
“Cool. I had a horse when I was a kid,” he said.
“You did?”
“Trigger. Old quarter horse. My dad grew up on a ranch here out in Norco. His family moved over to the states when he was a baby. My grandparents always had horses back in Italy, so once they moved to California, they got more horses and Dad grew up around them.”
“I think your dad and I have some things in common.” She laughed.
“I think so. My mom was never much into them though. She came over for a vacation with her family, met my dad, and never went home. They got married, started a family, and then when I was about eight or so, he bought Trigger for me.”
Kelly clutched her heart. “That is so sweet. How romantic. I mean your parents’ story.”
“It is, but after fifty years of marriage, the two of them fight like cats and dogs.”
Kelly laughed. “So the horse. Tell me about Trigger.”
“I thought we were talking about you.”
“No. No.” She waved a hand. “Your story is more interesting.”
“Doubt it. But yeah, Trigger. We boarded him at the equestrian center because my folks didn’t own any property to speak of. I rode for a couple years until my sister took him over. We had him until he colicked and died when he was twenty-eight.”
“I feel fortunate to still have a horse. A mare. Her name is Sydney but I call her Syd. I board her over at the L.A. Equestrian Center.”
“Maybe one day you could take me out there.”
Once he said it, they both blushed and took a sip
from their wine glasses. He immediately turned back to the stove. “Oh. Looks like it’s ready.”
She rubbed her hands together. “Let me get the plates.” Kelly stood and walked around the counter. She grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard. He took them from her and scooped up the pasta, handing her a piece of bread.
“Want to eat in front of the TV?” she asked, figuring maybe it would ease back whatever was going on between them. At that moment, sitting at her dining room table eating a meal he had prepared for her seemed a bit too date-like. Maybe TV would diffuse any chemistry between them.
“Sure. Oh, I brought backgammon with me. Maybe we could eat at the table and then play a game?”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess that would be a bit more, um…yes. Let’s eat at the kitchen table.”
Over dinner and without the television on, Kelly told Tony about her life as a kid breezing race horses. Why she had chosen to go to medical school and how she’d wound up in L.A. The talk was easy and the food amazing.
“I have to ask,” he said while finishing up the dinner.
“What’s that?”
“Your name? Kelly. It’s, well, it’s…”
“Not exactly Latina?” she said, reading his mind.
“No.”
“My mother loved Grace Kelly. She named me Kelly Grace.”
“That’s very…”
“Silly.”
“No. It’s, it’s, it’s cool. Sweet. It makes sense. You don’t look like Grace Kelly but you certainly are as beautiful. Oh wow. I’m sorry. Out of line.”
“I’m not complaining, Detective.” She smiled and the heat she had been feeling between them all evening intensified. “Want some dessert?”
“Love some,” he replied.
As she cleaned dishes, he scooped them some ice cream. She turned to get some spoons and bumped directly into him. “Sorry.” He held her gaze for several seconds. Neither of them moved.
He broke the silence. “What’s going on here? Between us?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
He took the spoons from her hands. “I should leave. Maybe call in another officer.”
She didn’t answer.
“Forget it.” He kissed her. Soft and slow at first. It quickly turned intense and passionate. Before either of them knew it, they didn’t care what was going on between them. What they did know is it felt amazing. As they made their way to her bedroom, they forgot why he was there, and how they had met.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
They must have found her through the cell phone. But god dammit, who were they? Jeanine tried to keep the tears from coming again. Last night, she’d been stunned by what happened. It had been just after eight when they had driven back to Melanie’s and her poor friend had been brutally murdered.
Jeanine knew they were all in serious trouble. She didn’t know who to turn to or trust, and she definitely didn’t trust herself at the moment.
She’d taken the kids back into Manhattan and ditched the car near Grand Central where she bought train tickets using cash she had found the purse her friend left on the front seat when she’d gone back into the house. They’d boarded a train to Port Jervis, a city bordering New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and it happened to be the last stop on the commuter line. She rented them a room for the night at a Days Inn and tried to plan her next move.
But all she could think about was Melanie? Oh God. They’d killed her. Jeanine was sure of that. Those men had killed her best friend. Jeanine had tried to shake the image from her mind—Melanie stumbling out the door, covered in blood.
The kids had all slept through the night and now they were awake and wanting to know what they were doing. “Mommy, why are we here?” Chloe tugged on her pant leg.
“Remember our train ride? Now we are going on another adventure.”
“I don’t want to,” Taylor whined.
Jeanine got on her knees and forced a smile for the girls. Baby Oliver was on the floor lying on the blanket Jeanine had laid down for him. He had his feet and hands in the air and was watching them with curiosity. Thank God he was a mellow baby. “I know you’re tired of the adventure, girls, but when we are done, Mommy is going to buy you something wonderful.”
Chloe’s jaw dropped. “Barbie Dream House?”
Taylor clapped her hands.
“Yes! Barbie Dream House it is. So, we are going to be really good today, right? And we are going to go get on a bus and go to Auntie Camille’s cabin.”
“We are?”’
“Yep.”
“Is Oliver’s mommy going?” Chloe asked.
“No sweetie.” Jeanine fought back the tears. “She needs us to watch him for a few days and take good care of him.”
“Okay. He is a good baby,” Taylor added.
“He is.” Jeanine laughed. “Now let’s get ready to go.”
“Hey, Mommy?” Chloe asked. “Will Daddy be at the cabin?”
Again, she had to fight tears. “I hope so, baby. I hope so.” She pulled both of her daughters in close and hugged them tightly, tears sliding down her face.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Stevie T stared at Kelly with disgust. He was lying on her chest when she opened her eyes. The cat meowed discontentedly as she inhaled the warm, pungent scent of fresh coffee. Last night came rushing back. What had she been thinking, sleeping with the detective! Stevie T was obviously wondering the same thing. Kelly did not sleep around. Ever. So what in the hell happened?!
As she stretched and sat up, she heard Tony’s voice coming from the kitchen. She started down the hall and stopped as she heard him say, “She has no idea. I’ve got this covered. You have nothing to worry about, boss. I am telling you, she’s clueless. I have it all taken care of.” He paused. “Yes. Lunch time. I will meet you. It’s all good. But we have to be quick.”
Kelly thought the conversation was odd. What did he have to take care of and who was the she he kept referring to? Well, one night with him certainly didn’t give her the right to start asking him questions about work. He’d obviously been speaking with his boss. But it still made her uneasy. Until she reminded herself Tony had a life outside of whatever was going on between them.
She rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Oh, hey,” he said. “I made some coffee.”
“Thank you.”
As he was pouring her a cup, the doorbell rang. “Simmons.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost seven. He’s a few minutes early,” he said. “Sorry. I was hoping we could spend some time together, but you were sleeping, and I know you must be tired.”
“Yes, I am,” she said.
The doorbell rang again. “I better get that,” he said.
“And I need to get ready for work.”
“Let’s…um, well, I will call you, okay?” Tony said as he walked to the front door.
“Sure. Absolutely.” She ran her hands through her hair. God this was awkward. Before she said something stupid, she turned and walked to the shower, hoping he really would call. She turned the shower water to cold and berated herself for sounding like a school girl and also acting like a woman who falls in bed with every Tom, Dick, and Harry. How stupid had she been? But she didn’t think she could help it. Detective Tony Pazzini had gotten under her skin.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Tony stared at the report on his screen. He was not happy. Apparently Gem Michaels’ fingerprints were found on the sliding glass door at Chad Wentworth’s place. On top of that, his crew had found wire and phone taps—all of it with Michaels’ prints on them. Damn her. She’d denied having any direct contact with the man. He sighed. All he’d wanted to do was write this thing off for what it appeared to be—a straightforward suicide. But clearly there was more to Wentworth’s death than that. Gem had not been careful. The funny thing was, her prints were in the database for perfectly legit reasons: she’d been fingerprinted in order to act as a driver/chaperone for her sons’ private school.
He picked up the phone to call someone else in to cover for him that evening. But then set it back down. What would one more night hurt? No. He could not go there. But before he made the call, he needed to deal with Gem Michaels.
He grabbed his keys and headed out to The L.A. Times.
Once at the newspaper’s offices, he flashed his badge and asked for Gem. A nervous receptionist led him down the narrow hall of a large, cubicle-filled room. No one seemed to notice him…apparently police officers were a common sight around here. The receptionist stopped at the door of a tiny office at the end of the hall. Gem was typing furiously at her keyboard.
“Hey, Michaels. We need to talk.”
Gem looked up from her computer and studied him for a second. He was pretty sure he caught a glimpse of “oh shit, caught red-handed,” in her eyes. But she covered her emotions swiftly and smiled cordially up at him. “Detective? To what do I owe this pleasure?” She gestured to a chair across from her desk. “Please, have a seat.”
He shut the door behind him with a soft push of his heel and sat down across from her. “Chad Wentworth. Your neighbor.”
“Yes? I thought we covered everything this morning.”
“Me, too. Here’s the thing. My boss wants this case sewn up nice and neat. But I have a small problem.”
She leaned back in her chair and eyed him. “What’s that?”
“Let’s start with the fact that you lied to me.”
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