She heard the hesitation over “anyone.” With something akin to pleasure, she wondered if he was asking whether there was a man in her life. But before the pleasure could build, another possibility struck her. Perhaps he just wanted to know if she was going to continue to bother him. The thought horrified her.
She hastened to reassure him. “Oh, I have plenty of family nearby. In an emergency I can always call on them. We’ll be fine. And I promise I won’t bother you again. I still feel bad that I had to call you at home this morning.”
“I don’t.”
For a moment his answer didn’t register. Then she realized that he wasn’t just being polite. He meant it. The pleasure began to build again. “You’re very kind.”
“Not words I hear often.”
“I don’t know why. Maybe nobody else looks under the surface.” She realized how presumptuous that sounded. “Look, I didn’t mean that. Everything I say to you seems to come out funny.”
“Everything you say comes out wonderful.” He looked down at Mary again, as if he had revealed too much. “I have to get back to work. Shall I trade you a little girl for that cheesecake?”
She held out the bag. “Mocha chocolate chip. Please ignore the carnation. It’s probably wilted by now.”
He took the bag and leaned over, sliding Mary into her arms. They were tangled together for a moment, shoulders against shoulders, arms looped, as they made the transfer. Mary whimpered, but she settled against Gemma as Farrell edged away from them.
For just the briefest moment Gemma had felt his weight bearing down on her and his hip pressed against hers. Her heart was speeding faster; she could feel color suffusing her cheeks.
And that was when she knew what a dangerous game she was playing. She had not come to say a final thank-you. She had not even come to reassure him about Mary’s health. She had come to see him once more, to watch the way his steel gray eyes softened to pewter when he looked at the little girl, and the way they sometimes softened when he looked at her. She had come to see his smile, that rare but infinitely rewarding smile that was already becoming an addiction. She was playing a dangerous game, playing with fire, in fact, because despite the fact that Farrell was fighting it, too, there was an attraction igniting between them that neither of them would be able to ignore if they were thrown together again.
“Well, we’ve definitely kept you long enough.” She used Farrell’s trick; she gazed down at Mary to avoid looking in his eyes. “And Mary’s fading fast, aren’t you, sweetheart? It’s naptime.”
Farrell leaned over and ruffled the back of Mary’s wispy hair. “Take care of her.”
“Oh, I will.”
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth reporting.”
She wondered if he would. Or would he just pass on his information to his sources at Child Welfare and count on them to get the news to her? She turned away. There was no point in speculation. She had asked more of this man in the past hours than she had asked of her husband in all the blighted years of their marriage. She couldn’t ask for more.
“Thanks again.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled a casual goodbye. “Hope you enjoy the cheesecake. It deserves a superior cup of coffee to wash it down.”
“Believe me, nothing at this station compares with yours.”
“My pot’s always on.” She wanted to yank her tongue out. “If you’re ever in the neighborhood.”
“I’ll remember that.”
She didn’t trust herself to say another thing. She headed for the door, and, with Mary on her hip, she left the station without a backward glance.
Chapter 4
“Relax, Gemma. The doctor says Mary’s ears are fine. Her temperature’s just a little elevated. She’s breathing, even if she doesn’t sound too great. She has a cold.” Gemma’s oldest sister, Patty, settled back in the wicker rocker with Mary on her lap. Anyone who glanced at them would have taken them for mother and daughter. Patty’s hair was the same light brown as the little girl’s, her eyes the same vivid blue.
Gemma must not have looked convinced, because Patty added, “Honestly. You can stop worrying.”
Gemma knew Patty was right. During Mary’s exam, Dr. Choi had warned her that the little girl might be coming down with a cold. And now, three days later, the cold had been confirmed during a second appointment. Gemma knew better than to worry. She had wiped a thousand little noses in her days as a preschool teacher. But in those days she’d sent the children back home after school for their mothers to take care of.
“I’ll take her if you’re tired,” Gemma offered.
Patty waved Gemma to the love seat against the nearest wall. “I’m not tired. Sit and take a break. I’m used to this.”
Patty had married young, and nine months later she had presented her graduate-student husband, John, with twin boys. Two years later the second set had come along. All the boys were rambunctious, and Gemma doubted that Patty had ever spent more than five minutes with one of them in her lap before he squirmed away to see what mischief the others had gotten into.
“This poor baby hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since she arrived.” Gemma settled herself on the love seat, where she could observe her sister and Mary. Patty pretended to be thoroughly sick of her own children, but she never missed the chance to mother someone else’s.
Patty smoothed Mary’s hair back from her forehead. “I’m guessing this will be the worst day, then she’ll start to feel better. How are you doing? Want me to send John over tonight to help you walk the floor? I’d come, but the last time I spent the night away from home, the dishwasher sprang a leak, Mark got the chicken pox, and Dillon fell and knocked out a tooth. John was beside himself.”
“Baloney. John can handle the boys with a hand tied behind his back. You just hate being away from them for too long, and you want a good night’s sleep.”
Patty rolled her eyes, but she didn’t deny it. Patty adored John, too. “You’ll be all right? You look tired. Seriously, one of us can help if you need it.”
For some reason Gemma pictured another man, not John, walking the floor with Mary that night. John was blond, and this man was not. John talked about everything. This man chose his words carefully and seemed most comfortable with silence.
Gemma shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I had a lifetime of uninterrupted nights to rest up.”
“You were always there when I needed you. Remember when the babies were cutting teeth?”
Gemma remembered, and she remembered how part of her had envied Patty during those months, both for her beautiful babies and the warmhearted husband who loved her.
“You handled everything without a fuss,” she said. “And so did John.”
“A little birdie tells me that the cop who brought Mary here is a total hunk and as single as John is married.”
For a moment Gemma wasn’t sure she’d heard her sister right. Since childhood, Patty had been good at suddenly changing the subject to throw her off guard. “A little birdie?”
Patty turned up one hand in defeat. “Okay. One of my neighbors is married to your cop’s partner.”
“Patty, he’s not my cop.”
“Sheila says that this guy…Farrell Riley, right? That he keeps to himself but everybody thinks he’s terrific anyway. He’s been cited for bravery twice. Her husband worships the ground he walks on. She says word is Farrell could be promoted, and Cal is afraid they won’t be partners anymore.”
Gemma realized her heart was beating faster. She remembered this feeling of anticipation and excitement from high school. She thought she’d outgrown it, along with training bras and rock star posters.
She tried to ignore it. “He was very nice. He took a real interest in Mary.”
“I’m sure he’d like to know how she’s doing. Maybe you ought to call him.”
“Apparently I don’t need to. I’m sure you’ll tell this Sheila everything, and she’ll tell her husband, and he’ll tell Farrell.”
�
�So you call him Farrell?”
“Patty…” Gemma’s tone was warning enough. “I’ve sworn off men. You know I have. I have the life I want and need. I’m happy.”
“Not every man is like Jimmy.”
“Maybe not. But what makes you think I could tell the difference? I was fooled once. Why not twice? Or as many times as I take a risk?”
“Jimmy was a salesman. He could sell sand in the Sahara, and probably did. All of us were fooled by his charm, but we learned. You most of all.”
Gemma had learned things that Patty didn’t even suspect, but she wasn’t about to go into them now. “Look, I’m happy. I took control of my life. I’m doing exactly what I want. I don’t need complications.”
“What about sex? Do you need sex?”
Gemma was used to Patty’s direct approach, but she could still feel her cheeks heating, not because of what Patty had said, but because of a sudden new image of Farrell.
And he wasn’t walking the floor with a sick child.
“I thought so,” Patty said triumphantly.
“I’m not going to get married just to have regular sex! And I’m not going to sleep around. It’s just not my style.”
“Then why don’t you get married for love? You still believe in it, even if the prospect’s a little tarnished right now. But pull it out and polish it up. You’re too young to be a monk.”
“Women can’t be monks.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean, and this conversation is finished. Got it?”
“If the cop’s not really your style, John has a client who’s—”
“Patty!” John, an investment banker, had already tried to promote romances for Gemma with several of his clients. John’s idea of a perfect match was a healthy portfolio and an aversion to prenuptial agreements.
“You’re such a prude.” Patty wrinkled her patrician nose. “Well, I hate to do it to you, kiddo, but I’ve got to get out of here and make some dinner for the swarm. Give us a call if you’re too tired to cope alone tonight. Better yet, give your cop friend a call. I bet he’d love to spend the night over here.”
Gemma stood and gathered Mary into her arms so that Patty could rise. “Thanks for coming, if not for the conversation. Give my love to John and the boys.”
“If I can shout above the din.” Patty gave Gemma a hug. “Think about what I said.”
“No.”
“Oh, you will, no matter what you say.”
Gemma’s response was interrupted by the doorbell.
“Expecting someone? Someone…interesting?” Patty brightened considerably.
“No!”
“I think I’ll go out the front door, just to be sure it’s not a serial killer on the porch.”
“Your car’s parked on the side.”
Patty smirked. “I feel a need for exercise.”
The doorbell rang again. With Patty and Mary in tow, Gemma had no choice but to answer it.
Farrell didn’t know why he was standing on Gemma’s front porch. He’d had a long day, and just before going off duty he’d nearly had his head blown off by a teenager with a handgun. The kid had seemed almost as surprised as Farrell when the gun went off, and afterward, on the way to the station, he’d sworn that it wasn’t supposed to be loaded. But who could believe a sixteen-year-old with a record as long as his daddy’s latest prison sentence? The gun had been in the kid’s possession, and the kid had made certain that the two men he robbed outside an automatic teller machine knew that he had it.
Hadn’t there been a time when teenagers collected baseball cards instead of .44s and assault rifles?
The door opened, and Gemma stood on the threshold with Mary in her arms. Beside her was a woman who could only be Gemma’s sister. The woman’s coloring was different, but the features were much the same.
“Farrell…”
“I’m sorry. Did I come at a bad time?”
“Of course not. Patty was just leaving.” Gemma turned toward the other woman. “Weren’t you?” she asked pointedly.
“If I have to.” Patty extended her hand. “I’m Patty Prescott, Gemma’s sister.”
He took her hand. “Farrell Riley.”
“I figured.”
“Patty…” Gemma sounded disapproving.
Patty grinned. “I live down the street from your partner. Sheila told me you and Cal were the ones to bring Mary here. I just put two and two together when I saw you.”
Farrell thought that needed explanation. Did Gemma have so few men on her doorstep that the only possibility was the cop who’d dropped off Mary?
And if so, why?
“Come for dinner next Saturday, Gemma,” Patty said. She turned to Farrell, and her eyes were dancing. “Since you like kids so much, Farrell, why don’t you come, too? I have four little boys who’ll change your mind. We’ll invite Sheila and Cal, so they can see what they’ll be getting into. Maybe Katy and her family can come, too. Katy’s our little sister.”
Farrell realized Patty had paused and was waiting for an answer. He avoided family get-togethers the way he avoided dark alleys and midnight strolls on Keller Avenue.
He found himself saying yes.
Patty patted his arm. “Oh, good. We’ll do a barbecue if it’s warm enough. I’ll let Gemma know the time. We’re always casual. Don’t dress up.”
Before anyone could say another word, Patty took off down the steps. At the bottom she waved before she disappeared around the side of the house.
“Well…” Gemma squared her shoulders and shook her hair back. “Hurricane Patty has blown over.”
“How do you keep up with her?”
“She has to be that way. The boys are all under the age of nine. She’s a Cub Scout den mother, and she wears the kids out.” Gemma looked as if she didn’t know what to say next.
“I don’t know why I’m here. I just thought I’d check on Mary…and you.”
“I’m glad you came. Come in. I promised you another cup of coffee, remember?”
He hadn’t forgotten, although he’d tried.
He followed Gemma into the kitchen, trying not to notice the way her hips swayed gracefully in a blue dress that outlined her subtle curves.
“You must just have gotten off work. Have you had dinner?”
“No, but—”
“Good. Let me fix you something. Mary and I haven’t eaten, either.”
“I didn’t come to beg a meal.”
“Of course you didn’t. You came to keep me company and hold Mary while I cook. She has a cold, and she hasn’t been out of my arms for days.”
“A cold? Are you sure that’s all?”
“Absolutely. But on top of everything else that’s happened to her, I guess she decided this was the last straw. She cries every time I put her down.”
Gemma turned and held out the little girl to him. She had been dozing since his arrival; now she opened her pretty blue eyes, and they widened with pleasure. Before he could offer to leave, Mary pitched herself in his direction. All he could do was catch her.
“I hope she doesn’t throw herself at men this way when she’s a teenager,” Gemma said.
Mary stroked Farrell’s cheek. The exhaustion and frustrations of his job seemed to seep away with each childish touch. He was her captive. He couldn’t make himself leave now.
Gemma opened the refrigerator. “What’ll it be? Chicken? Fish? Are you a vegetarian?”
“I’ll be a vegetarian when they sell soyburgers under the golden arches. Everything I eat comes straight off a fast-food grill or out of a can.”
She peeked over the refrigerator door and made a face. “I’m going to make you something healthy, then, if you can stand it.”
He tried to remember the last time anyone had worried about his diet. “Please don’t go to any trouble.”
“Trouble? This is sheer pleasure. Mary’s appetite is good, but she’s no gourmet. It’ll be fun to cook for a grown-up.”
�
�Anything will be fine.”
“How about something to drink? Beer? Wine? I’m not much of a drinker. I don’t have anything stronger.”
“I’ll take a beer.” Farrell settled himself at the table and made Mary comfortable on his lap.
Gemma came over to the table with a bottle and a frosted mug. The beer wasn’t something she’d picked up on sale at a convenience store. It was imported ale that was meant to be savored. He wondered what Cal and Archie would say.
“Here. Start on this.” She returned with a plastic bag of fresh vegetables cut into thin strips. She arranged them on a plate and spooned something that smelled delicious into the center. “That’s a spinach dip. You’ll like it. Mary does.”
As if to prove Gemma’s point, Mary reached for a celery stick and lowered it into the spinach dip puddle. Farrell could do no less.
“Chicken breasts sound all right? I’ll bake some potatoes in the microwave. I have fresh asparagus. Do you eat it?”
He didn’t want to admit he’d never had the opportunity. “Sure. Thanks.”
“Ummm… Good, I have mushrooms and red peppers. I’ll do a sauce for the chicken. I know, I’ll do pasta instead of potatoes. This is fun.”
He had taught himself to remove frozen food from cardboard packages. Her plans were obviously on a different level. “You really don’t have to go to so much trouble.”
“Let me, please. I love to eat. Tell me about your day while I work. I’d like to know more about what you do.”
He wondered what he could tell her. That until a sixteen-year-old tried to kill him, the rest of his day had consisted of traffic citations and faulty car alarms?
“There’s nothing much to tell.” He took a carrot stick from the plate. His stomach was rumbling, and he tried to remember if he and Cal had stopped for lunch.
Gemma filled a tall enamel pot with water and set it on the stove. “I’ll bet you’re good at defusing tough situations. You’re so calm and reasonable. I bet you can talk people out of all kinds of crazy schemes.”
“Not today.” He clenched his jaw the moment the words were out. He’d had no intention of telling her what had happened to him, but Gemma was too perceptive to let that go unchallenged.
A Mother's Day: Nobody's ChildBaby on the WayA Daddy for Her Daughters Page 4