Belonging

by Samantha James

  Angie nodded. A few minutes later she returned downstairs, a blond carbon copy of her chestnut-haired daughter. The doorbell sounded as her foot hit the last step. A little surprised that the Crawfords had managed to herd themselves together already, Angie grabbed her cap and threw open the front door.

  "How on earth did you get here so soon—" she began laughingly.

  Her voice dropped off abruptly. A pair of startled gray eyes mirrored her own shock at finding Matt Richardson on her doorstep.

  For his part, Matt couldn't have been more pleased. A little stunned, perhaps, at finding this bewitching, ponytailed creature standing before him instead of the polished sophisticate he'd seen thus far. But, oh, yes, most definitely pleased. His gaze traveled appreciatively over slim, bare legs revealed by a pair of brief nylon shorts all the way to the long flaxen hair caught in a ponytail at the back of her head. It didn't stop until it reached the baseball cap she'd jammed on her head at the last second.

  "Trying to throw me a curve ball again, aren't you?"

  Very funny, Angie thought. Aware of the direction his eyes had taken, she reached up and removed the baseball cap, dropping it on the small table near the door. She could see that he was trying very hard not to smile, but somehow she wasn't as amused by his unexpected appearance as she'd been last night at the hotel. Nevertheless, she couldn't quite control the involuntary quickening of her heartbeat. Dressed casually in jeans and a blue denim shirt, he seemed less harsh and even more overwhelmingly masculine.

  "Chief Richardson. What brings you here?" She strived for a formal note, for some reason needing to place that barrier, no matter how small or inconsequential, between them. Exactly why she felt that way she wasn't certain.

  "The name is Matt, Angie. I thought we settled that last night." For all of his soft-spoken charm, there was a touch of insistence in his voice. "And speaking of last night—" he held up a pair of silver-heeled shoes and smiled "—Prince Charming to the rescue."

  Angie felt a rush of betraying color warm her cheeks. Silently she took the shoes from him and turned away, hoping he didn't see it. The less said about last night,

  on all counts, the better. She didn't realize he had followed her inside the house until the door closed gently behind him.

  "Coach?" Matt was referring to the white lettering emblazoned on the back of her royal-blue jersey. A half smile lifted his mouth as his inquisitive eyes flitted to her face. "You coach a baseball team?"

  Hearing voices in the hallway, Kim and Casey came in to investigate. Angie placed an arm around both youngsters and drew them to her side. "These are my daughters, Kim and Casey," she told him coolly. "It's Kim's team that I help coach."

  Daughters. Matt hadn't expected one, and certainly not two. Angie Hall was full of contradictions, he reminded himself dryly. Mayor of Westridge. Baseball coach. Mother of two. And what had happened to her husband? Had she, like Linda, eventually concluded that her husband wasn't good enough for her?

  His mouth turned down for just an instant before he noticed the youngest child had turned bright eyes up to his. "Who're you?" she asked with more frankness than politeness. Unlike Kim, Casey wasn't the least bit cautious with strangers, even men.

  "I'm Matt." He dropped down to one knee so that he was on the same level as the little girl. Even then she had to tilt her head to look at him. "Are you Kim?" he asked.

  Blond pigtails shook furiously. "I'm Casey. That's Kim!" A chubby finger pointed at her sister, still standing at her mother's side.

  "Ah. The baseball player." Matt turned his head to smile at Kim, who stared back at him warily and nudged closer to Angie's bare legs. Like mother, like daughter, he couldn't help thinking.

  "Are you one of Mommy's boyfriends? Like Todd?" Casey blurted.

  Boyfriends? Matt immediately recalled his observation that cool, aloof Angie didn't like to be touched. Some detective, he thought wryly. And who the hell was Todd?

  "Todd isn't Mommy's boyfriend!" Kim stepped forward and faced her sister. Her small chin jutted forward, and her fists were balled at her sides.

  Casey suddenly looked equally fierce. "Then why does she go to parties with him?"

  "She didn't go with him last night, and when she does, it's only because he works with her! Todd is just... just a friend!"

  And that was that, Matt decided wryly. So Todd was another devoted fan of Mayor Angie Hall. Somehow it would have been slightly more reassuring, and convincing, if it had come from Angie. But it was understandable, really. In the short time he'd known her, and especially the past twenty-four hours, he'd thought of her as a woman—a very desirable woman—far more than he'd thought of her as his boss.

  His attention returned to the two angelic-looking cherubs still determined to butt heads. He found their mother had grasped each of them by a shoulder and stood between them.

  "That's enough, both of you!" she said sharply. "And as I've told you before, Todd is just a friend." She addressed herself to both children.

  Casey tipped her head to the side. "What about Matt?" she insisted once more. "Is he your friend?"

  "Yes." Angie's tone was short. "Now why don't you two check to see that Spooky has food and water?" She

  watched as Casey ran from the room. Kim followed more slowly behind her.

  Matt whistled softly when she turned to him again. "It's nice to see I've moved up in the world," he ventured teasingly. "Do I dare ask who Spooky is? Not, I presume, a friend?"

  The flicker of amusement in his eyes, his easy manner with the girls...Angie couldn't help it. She felt her defenses slip a notch. The way he'd dropped to talk to Casey on her own level especially impressed her.

  Her smile lit up her entire face, making her look open and unreserved. Matt found himself even more drawn to this Angie than the other he'd glimpsed all week long.

  "Spooky is our cat," she explained. Then she seemed to hesitate. "Look, I apologize for the girls."

  "Don't bother." He shrugged. "Kids will be kids. Besides, I think it bothered you a lot more than it did me."

  Her laugh was a little nervous. Matt might have found it amusing, but she was still rather embarrassed.

  Matt was too busy taking in his surroundings to really notice, though. He'd been a little disconcerted when he'd parked his car in front of the rambling Victorian house, so much so that he'd double-checked the address he'd scribbled down from the phone book.

  But, as he was beginning to learn, nothing about Angie Hall fit the mold. Where were the sterile whites and the cold reflection of glass he'd convinced himself he would find? From the high-ceilinged entry, he glimpsed an old-fashioned but functional kitchen with touches of red brick. A wide arched doorway led into the living room, and he glanced inside. The room was filled with cherry wood antiques that he suspected had cost a pretty penny. Nonetheless, the pale yellow sprigged wallpaper, the warm, polished glow of wood and, particularly, the collection of dolls and doll clothes strewn across the sofa lent a warmth and coziness that he found tremendously appealing.

  This was a home, a real home. Nothing at all like the museum he and Linda had occupied.

  "This is a nice place," he commented, then found himself admitting, "Somehow I had you pegged as a cliff dweller."

  Angie looked blank. "I beg your pardon?"

  "I thought you'd live in an apartment building." His rueful smile was directed at himself. "You... well, to tell you the truth, you look like the high-rise type."

  Angie raised her eyebrows and made a quick inspection of herself. "Really?" she asked dryly.

  "Let me rephrase that. You looked like the high-rise type."

  "In case you hadn't noticed, Westridge doesn't have any high rises." She smiled again, a slow, sweet smile that had Matt holding his breath and wishing he'd met her fifteen years ago. "Unless you count the Bulletin building," she added. "It's eight stories high."

  Who the hell was Todd? he wondered again. And what, really, was he to her?

  Whatever Matt had been ab
out to say never materialized. There was a knock at the front door. Angie went to open it, and Matt heard a cheery "Hello, there! Sorry we took so long, but I had to change Eric at the last minute."

  A petite brunette with a baby balanced on one hip filed inside, followed by a young girl wearing the same uniform as her mother, Angie and her daughters. A friendly-looking man brought up the rear as Angie quickly made the necessary introductions.

  The baby was placed on his feet and immediately disappeared after Nancy, who had run off, Matt presumed, to find Angie's daughters.

  "So you're our big-time police chief from Chicago." Janice Crawford turned to Matt, her dark eyes shining. "Do you like lollipops?" At his quizzical look she laughed and eyed Angie, who smiled weakly. "Never mind. It's just a joke." She hooked her arm through her husband's.

  Bill picked up where she left off. "How do you like Westridge so far?" he asked. "Quite a change from Chicago, I'll bet."

  It was Matt's turn to send a sidelong glance at Angie. "The more I see, the more I like," he murmured.

  Angie wasn't quite sure how to take the remark, and judging from the unmistakable male gleam in his eyes, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Now that he had done his duty and delivered her shoes, she had yet to figure out why he was staying. Checking her watch, she said apologetically, "I hate to cut this short, but I'm afraid Janice and I and the girls have a date at the baseball park." She paused, hoping Matt would pick up the hint and bow out gracefully.

  Janice didn't even give him a chance. "Say, how would you like to come along?" She pretended not to see when a wide-eyed Angie sent her a warning look. "Bill gets a big kick out of watching the games, and you might, too."

  Angie's heart sank when Matt seemed to consider the idea. Having him stop by for a few short minutes was one thing, but having him tag along to the girls' game was quite another. She knew full well what Janice was up to, and she also had the sneaking suspicion that Matt Richardson didn't mind in the least.

  She quickly took advantage of the momentary lull. "Oh, I'm sure he has plenty of other things to do on a Saturday afternoon. Don't you, Matt?"

  His eyes conveyed a rather wicked satisfaction as she finally called him by the abbreviated version of his name. She knew she was doomed the minute she saw it. "As a matter of fact, I can't think of a reason not to come."

  Except one—Angie didn't really want him along. There was no doubt in his mind that what he was about to do wouldn't exactly endear him to her, but at the moment Matt wasn't feeling very sensible. Not sensible at all.

  Janice positively beamed. "Great!" she said with her usual vibrancy. She called the other children. When they were all clustered around her, she lifted a finger and counted heads. "There's eight of us. Too many to fit in our car, even though it's a station wagon. Especially with the police chief along." She added coyly, "I seem to remember something about a law against driving while encumbered."

  "I don't mind driving," he said easily. "As long as someone points me in the right direction."

  "Angie can go with you, then," Janice said breezily. She thrust the baby into Bill's arms and quickly herded the other children out the front door, flashing a brief glance at Matt. "See you at the park!" she called over her shoulder.

  Seeing the look Janice gave Matt, Angie muttered something under her breath. It was all she had time for before she was left alone with him.

  Matt didn't have to hear what she was mumbling to know it wasn't anything complimentary, and he couldn't hold back a grin at Angie's condemning stare.

  "I plead not guilty." He held up both hands in a conciliatory gesture. "If Janice hadn't asked me along, I wouldn't be going. Although I'll admit it might have been nicer if you had asked me."

  Angie said nothing. She stared at him for a moment longer, then shook her head with a resigned sigh.

  Matt laughed. Reaching out, he retrieved the baseball cap she'd dropped on the table near the door. "Smile, Angie," he told her, dropping the cap on her head. "It's the neighborly thing to do."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The neighborly thing to do . . . It was a thought Angie tried to keep in mind during the drive to the baseball field in Matt's BMW. Matt Richardson was, after all, a stranger in town.

  Which somehow brought to mind his teasing gibe last night that they were kindred spirits. The thought was oddly disconcerting, yet she found herself wondering if it was true. She'd always considered herself quiet but intense. And Matt? He struck her as a man who knew exactly what he wanted. A man who was somewhat of a loner, someone who blended in with the crowd around him and yet was different, separate.

  The need for human comfort and warmth was a basic one, one that went hand in hand with trust, and Angie was not yet ready to trust again. She preferred to stand alone—proud but alone. It was safer, if not easier.

  Matt was only barely cognizant of the lazy charm of the broad, tree-lined streets, the scent of freshly mowed grass drifting in through the open window. His eyes shifted away from the street toward the woman who sat on the other side of the car. He wondered at her thoughts as she stared silently out the window.

  He felt like an intruder as he casually commented, "Your friends seem nice. Have you known them long?"

  Angie turned her head slightly to look at him. "About eight years. Ever since we moved into the neighborhood from across town."

  His mind zeroed in on her use of the word "we." Did she mean she and her daughters? Or she and her ex- husband? He had a sudden urgent compulsion to know everything about her. His instinct told him she wouldn't welcome an inquisition into her background. Angie Hall was one cautious woman, and he realized at the same moment that it was altogether possible that what he'd perceived as icy distance was no more than cautious restraint.

  He settled for a gentle probing. "So you're a local, then?"

  A faint smile curved her lips as she nodded. "Born, raised and educated in Westridge--from kindergarten to college."

  "College?" He shook his head. "Don't tell me. Political science major, right?"

  "Wrong." She laughed. It was a tentative sound but a laugh nonetheless. "Economics. I worked as a financial planner a few years ago," she found herself confessing. "And believe it or not, all in Westridge."

  "I see." Matt chuckled. "No dreams of seeing the world and setting it on its ear after graduation?"

  Her smile faded. She'd had the world at her fingertips already—or so she thought. What need had there been to search for more? "No," she answered quickly. "I...got married." She focused on her hands for a moment as her mind traveled fleetingly backward.

  She and Evan had met on a warm, brilliant summer day much like today. Angie's studies had been too important for her to devote much time to the social aspects of college life. But Evan had changed that. He was a very masculine and attractive man, intelligent with a smooth, polished manner. He had given her glorious sun-filled days of laughter, moonlit nights of loving. It had been an irresistible combination. Evan was a man who had known what he wanted, and what he had wanted was Angie. They had married during their last year in college.

  There was a hint of wistfulness in the soft lines of her face, a silent wish for what might have been. But her eyes were dark with sorrow. Life had been so full then, so promising. She had had everything in the world to look forward to. Her career, her future with the man she loved, the joys of motherhood. She felt a dull, familiar ache. How had it all gotten so... so twisted?

  "Angie?"

  With a start she realized Matt was speaking to her, and she snapped back to the present. "Yes?"

  He smiled crookedly, and she noticed he had pulled over to the curb. "I lost Bill at that last turn. Where do we go from here?"

  Angie forced a laugh. "You'd better be careful, Chief. We can't let it be known that the chief of police hasn't mastered the city's geography yet."

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. For an instant, just for an instant, Angie let herself appreciate the genuine warmth she saw reflected there. "Offerin
g to help me with my homework?" he asked. His smile widened when she shook her head and hastily averted her eyes. Matt made her feel nervous--damn nervous.

  "Never mind," she muttered. "I'm sure it'll come in time."

  In time. It would indeed, Matt thought as he listened to her voice guide him the rest of the way to the ballpark. He hadn't missed the half-wistful, half-sad expression on her face the moment before. In time he would know all of her, all that had shaped her into the complex woman she was. The resolution, as well as the strength of the conviction with which he made it, surprised him. Was it because he needed a friend?

  He did want Angie Hall as a friend. But he also wanted more from her. He was aware that it wasn't just desire for an attractive woman that beckoned him. Why, Matt couldn't have said. He knew only that he felt it very strongly, and he was a man used to trusting his own feelings, his instincts. So many times they were all he had to rely on.

  Most of the youngsters had already assembled at the park when they arrived. With Kim and Nancy in tow, Angie and Janice headed toward the rest of the team.

  There was a small set of bleachers behind the first and third baselines, and it was there that Bill and Matt directed their steps. Bill carried the baby, and Matt was a little surprised when Casey skipped readily along beside him.

  "Wait till you see these girls play," Bill said with a grin. "Funniest thing you've ever seen in your life. Nancy plays because Kim does, and those two are thicker than thieves. But Kim... well, Kim's pretty good."

  Matt's eyes squinted thoughtfully against the bright glare of the afternoon sun, watching the pigtailed, ponytailed crew take their positions on the field. He'd been a baseball fan for as long as he could remember, and as always he found it hard not to get involved in the game. He bounded to his feet more than once, startling Casey the first time, but then she giggled when he shot a sheepish grin down at her. He groaned, he cheered, but as the game wore on, he discovered Bill was right. He found it harder and harder to contain his laughter.