A Mom for Callie

by Laura Bradford

  Callie’s squeal escaped the screen between them, her enthusiasm matched only by the sound of her feet as they jumped up and down. “Can you? Can you, Miss Anderson? My daddy makes the best hamburgers ever.”

  A deep breath chased away the parade of fears that threatened to answer for her. Betsy winked at Callie before looking back at Kyle. “The best burgers ever? Wow…with an endorsement like that, how could I even think about declining?”

  Chapter Six

  She knew she was staring but she couldn’t help herself. In or out of uniform, there was no denying the fact that Kyle Brennan was a good-looking man. Though, in all fairness, she wouldn’t mind seeing what he looked like with absolutely nothing on.

  Feeling her face warm at the thought, Betsy returned her attention to the version flipping burgers in front of her rather than the version in her fantasies. The man at the grill was an alluring mixture of confidence and approachability with a healthy dash of both playfulness and sincerity.

  “Pretty easy on the eyes, isn’t he?”

  Startled, she looked up as Angela dropped down on the picnic bench beside her, her face flushed from an intense game of one-on-one volleyball with her husband. “What are you talking about?”

  Angela jerked her head in the direction of the grill. “The host.”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” She knew the words were lame, the believability behind them laughable, but she gave it a shot anyway.

  “You know exactly what I mean. You’ve been eyeing Kyle for the past ten minutes. I know it. Tom knows it. And Kyle knows it.”

  She gripped the edge of the picnic table as her mouth grew dry. “You think he knows?”

  Rolling her eyes skyward, Angela reached for a chip from the brimming bowl in front of them. “You think most men naturally flex their muscles while lifting a beer bottle or handling a spatula?”

  She laughed in spite of her embarrassment. “You think that was for my benefit?”

  “Judging by the way he watched you from the corner of his eye every time he did it…I’d say, yeah.” Angela considered the half-eaten chip in her hand before popping it into her mouth. When she was done chewing, she continued. “And judging by the way you were watching every move he made, I’d say he was successful in his mission.”

  “His mission?” Betsy rested her head on her fist and grinned at her new friend. “You think he has a mission?”

  “Do pigs fly?”

  She laughed. “Actually, no.”

  “Oh, sorry. Bad analogy.” Angela looked around the Brennans’ backyard, her eyes stopping on the swing set where Callie was happily doing tricks on the monkey rings for Tom. “Is Callie Brennan cuteness personified?”

  Lifting her head from her hand, Betsy looked from Angela to Callie and back again. “You’re that sure he’s trying to impress me?”

  “And then some.” Retrieving another chip, Angela held it out to Betsy, who shook her head, prompting Angela to make a face before happily munching away. “This is exactly why the chubby get chubbier and the thin stay thin. Anyway…is it working?”

  Her gaze traveled back to the grill and the man standing in front of it, a beer bottle in one hand, a spatula in the other. “Is what working?”

  Angela’s hearty laugh got Kyle’s attention but not before he caught Betsy looking and flashed a knee-weakening smile in her direction. “Hey, just because I’m slaving over this hot grill doesn’t mean I should be left out of all the fun. What’s going on over there?”

  “Nothing more than two chicks ogling the chef.”

  Betsy felt her mouth gape open, her face flame red. Looking down at the table she peeked up through long lashes to find Kyle sporting an aura of satisfaction. To Angela she gasped, “What are you doing?”

  “Giving things a little nudge.”

  “What things?”

  “You and Kyle. You’re perfect together.”

  She widened her eyes in mock horror.

  “Oh, c’mon… Handsome, yet skittish cop. Beautiful, yet wounded next-door neighbor. You couldn’t write it better yourself, Betsy.” Angela dug her hand back into the bowl. “But being the impatient reader I am, I want you two to skip straight to the good parts.”

  “Good parts?” Tom asked as he plopped down on the bench across from them. “What good parts?”

  She shook her head at Angela but it was too late. “The hot and heavy date, the wildly intense sexual buildup.”

  “Whoa, now. What’d I miss?” Tom looked from Angela to Betsy and back again before looking over his shoulder at Kyle. “You could have told me I was missing this kind of conversation, dude.”

  Exhaling a soft groan of embarrassment, Betsy rested her forehead back on her hand as Kyle’s voice tickled her ears. “I was too busy trying to follow it for myself, partner.”

  She dropped her head all the way onto the table.

  “Daddy, you better hurry up with those ham burgers…Miss Anderson looks mighty hungry.” Callie’s soft little hand stroked the side of Betsy’s cheek, her eyes rounding as she did. “And maybe get out the sprinkler because she seems really hot.”

  Where’s the rewind button when you need it?

  “No ‘seems’ about it.” The huskiness of Kyle’s voice and the meaning behind his words made Betsy lift her head just in time to see Angela’s thumb shoot up at Tom in a celebratory gesture. “Now, who’s ready for a burger and a dog?”

  Tom leaped to his feet, stopping only long enough to hike his shorts upward on his rounded form. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

  “C’mon, Miss Anderson. You’re gonna love my daddy’s burgers. They’re really, really yummy.”

  “Just like Daddy,” Angela quipped devilishly, her voice just loud enough for Betsy’s ears.

  IT WAS HARD NOT TO NOTICE how well Callie and Betsy hit it off, their rapport one of mutual admiration and interest—Callie intrigued by Betsy’s career, Betsy fascinated by Callie’s…

  Youth?

  Sweetness?

  He wasn’t entirely sure.

  Kyle turned the scraper in his hand and pushed it against the wire rack, his attention on the mismatched volleyball game in front of him. Or, rather, the woman in the white shorts and yellow halter top who had teamed up with his daughter to take on the Murphys.

  His gaze followed the soft curves of Betsy’s body as she stood poised and ready at the net, lingered on the long shapely legs that darted around Callie with ease. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have those legs wrapped around him.

  “You gonna keep messin’ with that grill or are you gonna get out here and play?” Tom’s voice carried across the lawn before being cut off by a stray ball to the face. “Whoa now.”

  Callie’s giggle propelled him from the grill, his desire to spend time with her met only by his desire to be as close to Betsy as possible. Jogging over to the net, he took his place behind his next-door neighbor as she waited for the ball, his attention stolen from the game by the way her shorts framed her—

  Whump.

  Kyle staggered backward, his hand holding his head.

  In an instant Betsy was at his side, her long slender hand pulling his backward. “Are you okay?”

  He inhaled her scent, an alluring mixture of violets and soap that got his heart thumping and his body reacting.

  “That’s what you get for not keeping your eye on the ball where it belongs, dude.” Tom didn’t even bother hiding his smile as he flashed a knowing look at Kyle. “Your eyes need to be focused on game-level not—”

  “Yeah, I got it, Tom,” he said, cutting his partner off midsentence but not before catching a note of curiosity on Betsy’s face. To her, he said, “Shall we take them down?”

  Her mouth tugged upward in a conspiratorial smile that nearly rocked his world. “Oh, yeah.”

  For the next ten minutes the two of them dashed around in pursuit of the ball, high-fiving one another as spike after spike left their opponents speechless. More than a few times Betsy bumped into him wh
ile moving back for a volley—a contact he could have avoided but opted not to. Every time it happened he felt his body react, hoped and prayed she didn’t notice. Her laughter was intoxicating, making his head spin with a level of desire that was foreign yet undeniably exciting.

  There was no doubt about it. Betsy Anderson stirred things inside him. Things that would be best explored in private…with candles burning…soft music playing…and no one around for miles…

  Whump.

  Again, her hands were on him, the feel even more heady than it had been the first time thanks to the images that had been playing in his mind since the game started. “You’re going to be black and blue by the time this game is over.”

  “Nah, I’ll be—”

  “Gotta keep your eyes on the ball and your head in the game, dude.”

  “My head is in the game,” he countered as he shook off the latest ball strike.

  “Not in this game it ain’t.” Tom looked at his watch and then his wife, his teasing grin turning to one of affection. “It’s getting kind of late. What say we wrap this up and head home?”

  Angela looked as if she was about to protest until she followed the direction Tom’s not so subtle eyebrows were indicating. Kyle grinned. There were times Tom was a bit thick, slow to get a hint even when it was fairly obvious to everyone else around him. But this time he was getting it before Kyle even gave it.

  After the Murphys left, Betsy stayed behind to help shuttle dishes and leftovers into his kitchen, chattering with Callie the whole time. Once everything was inside and put away, she took a step toward the door, a move he stopped with a gentle hand on her arm. “Let me put Callie to bed and then walk you home.”

  She gazed up at him through thickly lashed eyes, a sweet yet smoldering look that made him wish, for that moment, that he had a nanny. “It’s just next door. I won’t get lost.”

  “I know, but I want to walk you home.” Turning to his daughter, he felt an entirely different pull on his heart—the kind of pull that made him feel like a superman and a ball of mush all at the same time. “Hey, pumpkin, I think it’s time you went off to dreamland, okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy.” And as easy as that, Callie slipped her hand inside his and led the way down the hall, waving good-night at Betsy before disappearing into her room. After changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth, she climbed into bed and settled her head on her pillow. Looking up at him, she flashed a sleepy smile. “She’s really pretty, isn’t she?”

  He cocked his head as he smoothed her hair from her face. “Who is?”

  “Miss Anderson.” Callie yawned, her words growing softer and more difficult to discern. “And she’s really, really nice, too.”

  As his daughter’s eyes drooped closed, he bent over and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Yes, she is. On both counts.”

  Once he was sure his daughter was fast asleep, he headed back out to the living room and a waiting Betsy, his heart rate accelerating as she came into view. “Thanks for waiting.” Placing his hand on the small of her back, he guided her through the kitchen door and out into the now-empty backyard. “I’m glad you came tonight. I really enjoyed having you here.”

  “I enjoyed being here. I can’t tell you the last time I had this much fun.”

  He stole a glance at her face as they walked between their homes, their bodies fitting easily through a gap in the hedge line. “Any chance you’d be up for some more tomorrow?”

  “More what?”

  “Fun.”

  The soft, melodic sound of her laughter brought an instant smile to his lips. “Will there be burgers involved?” she asked.

  “Now you sound like Callie.” He reached for her arm as they approached her back door, turning her slightly so their eyes met. “I was thinking more along the lines of a picnic at the park for just the three of us. Maybe some sandwiches, some chips, some fruit.”

  Her hand came down on his, her eyes sparkling in the glow of the moon. “Ooh, let me pack it. To repay you for such a nice time tonight.”

  “Your smile is all the payment I need.”

  She blushed. “Please. I’d like to do this.”

  “Okay. Say three o’clock?”

  “You don’t have to work tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I’ve got a six-to-two tomorrow. But enough about that…” He stepped closer, reveled in the feel of her body in such close proximity to his own. Lifting her chin with his fingers, he closed his mouth over hers, felt the sensuous heat as his tongue slid between her lips—teasing, exploring, tasting. Their tongues danced with one another as she molded against him, her arms snaking around his neck as his hands found her tiny waist. He pulled her toward him, wanting her to feel his attraction, to know—beyond a shadow of a doubt—how much he wanted her at that moment.

  Finally she pulled away, the longing in her eyes surely a mirror of his own. “You need to get back…to Callie. But I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  He reached out, held her face in his hand as he soaked up every detail of her expression, committing it to memory. “I can hardly wait.”

  Chapter Seven

  Betsy padded into the kitchen, her pink slippers making a soft tapping sound on the linoleum. For the first time in months she’d slept through the night, hope winning out over the nightmares and regrets that ordinarily drove her from bed before dawn. And it was all because of Kyle Brennan.

  Or, rather, the slack she’d finally cut herself where he was concerned.

  He was fun.

  He was sweet.

  He was a loving and attentive father.

  He was accomplished at the grill.

  He was gorgeous.

  And he was an amazing kisser.

  Closing her eyes, she leaned against the counter and inhaled the memory of his lips on hers, savored the passion that fired between them as their backyard goodbye had threatened to become an all-night affair. The verbal details of their impending picnic in the park had melted on their tongues as his lips strayed from hers in search of her chin, her neck, her shoulders—a methodically sensual exploration that had been cut short by a strange sound behind Kyle’s house.

  In a split second their moment had ended, Kyle’s hand finding hers for a quick squeeze before running back toward his home and Callie. What the sound was, or what exactly had caused it, she didn’t know. But what she did know was simple.

  She was falling for Kyle Brennan.

  Officer Kyle Brennan.

  Was she crazy for allowing herself to get tied up with a police officer—a person who swore to protect the public at all cost? Was she insane to put her heart on the line once again—knowing that this time it was actually engaged?

  Probably. But being a police officer in Cedar Creek, Illinois, was a far cry from its big-city counterpart. Here, people left their doors unlocked at night. Here, people retired for the evening when the sun went down. And here, everyone knew everyone.

  It was okay. Falling for Kyle Brennan was okay.

  She peered at the microwave clock, making note of how long she had before being with Kyle again. Six hours would be more than enough time to get a little writing in, get herself showered and dressed and to prepare a picnic lunch that would appeal to both Callie and her dad.

  The ring of her cell phone put an instant stop to the mental inventory of her refrigerator, the jingle it boasted signaling a call she couldn’t ignore.

  Marsha Greene had been her editor since day one with Yorkshire Publishing and, for the most part, it had been a relationship of mutual respect. Lately, though, things had been different and it was Betsy’s fault.

  Lifting the phone from her purse, she flipped it open and held it to her cheek. “Good morning, Marsha.”

  “Betsy.”

  “What can I do for you today?”

  “You can tell me when you’ll deliver your next book so I can stop looking at the floor every time my boss asks me that question.”

  She could hear the stress in the woman’s voice and r
ushed to reassure her. “You’ll have it on your desk in six months.”

  “Six months is much too long, Betsy. Especially for a book we should have had six months ago.”

  “Marsha, I’ve been trying. I just didn’t have anything that could come close to what you need from me.”

  “And now you do?”

  Betsy sat in front of her computer and opened the file that would, eventually, be her next novel. Other than her name and address in the top left corner, she had nothing.

  Not on paper anyway.

  “Yes, I do. It’s been percolating in my mind almost nonstop the past few days and I think I’m ready to go.”

  “Then go. I’ll be expecting it on my desk by the first of August.”

  She rolled her mouse over the calendar icon on her toolbar and clicked, the year-at-a-glance feature causing a reflexive swallow. “That’s three months away.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  A slew of protests sprang up inside her throat only to be swallowed back down. She’d only herself to blame after her nearly yearlong pity party. Now it was high time to put an end to the festivities and begin the long-awaited cleanup process on her life.

  Squaring her shoulders, she inhaled deeply, determined not only to get back in the game but also to win one for the team. “You’ll have it on your desk by the first of August.”

  “BRENNAN, MURPHY…IN HERE, now.”

  Kyle glanced at his partner as they stopped, in unison, outside the lieutenant’s door, the man’s bluntness as much a given around the department as off-color jokes and tall tales. In fact, it was the rare occasion when their boss was polite that they had reason to worry.

  “Lieutenant, you’re looking well.”

  “Shut your piehole, Murphy.”

  “I’ll do that, sir.” Tom threw his shoulders back as he clicked his heels and came to parade rest.

  Kyle rolled his eyes then cut to the chase. “What’s up, Lieutenant?”

  “My antennae…as should be yours, Brennan.” Doug Grady pushed his chair back and stood, his stance one of tension. “We’ve got a problem.”