“I’m talking about the guy who ‘adjusted’ your life by upending it. Who ‘adjusted’ your heart, using it as a jump rope, then moving on. I’m talking about Elena’s father, blind though he is.” Alma shook her head, clearly mystified. “Any idiot with eyes could see that she’s his daughter, why can’t he?”
Lucy looked down at the sheets, but she’d lost the ability to concentrate. “You don’t see what you don’t look for.”
“Great fortune cookie proverb,” Alma snorted dismissively. She looked down at the baby, who was peacefully sleeping through all this in the bassinet she’d given Lucy as a baby shower gift. “When are you going to tell him about her?” she asked more quietly.
“Never.”
Alma looked at her in surprise. “Still?”
She couldn’t believe that Lucy hadn’t changed her mind, that she was still determined to keep Elena’s parentage a secret from Dylan. It might have been different if Dylan had remained out of her life, but he was back and the opportunity was ripe.
“Look, much as there’s no love lost between me and McMorrow, he is Elena’s father. Don’t you think he deserves to know that the two of you have gone forth to be fruitful and multiplied?”
Ordinarily, Alma would have made Lucy laugh. But not about this. “No.”
“For heaven’s sake, why?”
Giving up, Lucy let the sheets of paper drop back on the bright yellow tablecloth. “Because I don’t want him that way.”
“I thought you were so in love with him, you’d take McMorrow any way you could get him,” Alma commented.
Yes, she had been in love with Dylan. Maybe still was, but she was ashamed of that. Ashamed that her pride had crumbled enough to let her contemplate that kind of a relationship. Because it would have been doomed from the very start.
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want him that way. Because he felt an obligation to give Elena a full-time father.” She felt her heart twisting inside her. “I don’t want him out of a sense of duty. I want him because he loves me, and since that isn’t going to happen, I definitely don’t want him because he feels guilty.”
“Won’t you feel guilty, not letting him know?” Alma asked.
Lucy looked at the baby for a long moment. “I’ll deal with it.”
“If you want my advice, you’ve got enough to deal with without that.”
Lucy smiled warmly at her. “I didn’t ask your advise.”
Alma shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”
Lucy reached for Alma’s hand and placed hers over it. “Just be there for me.”
“You’ve already got that.”
Lucy’s eyes crinkled, the way they had, Alma remembered, before any of this had started. The way they had when McMorrow had first entered her best friend’s life. “Then I don’t need anything more,” Lucy said.
Alma looked at her watch. “Well, I’d better be getting back. Not that there’s anything to be getting back for. Even if this break-in hadn’t happened, we still wouldn’t exactly be doing brisk business these days, what with the city tearing up every bit of available piece of sidewalk in front of the store in both directions.”
Lucy rose from the table, ready to accompany Alma to the door. “Just keep telling yourself that this too shall pass.”
“Yeah.” Alma laughed shortly. “And when it does, something else equally as problematic will come and take its place.”
Same old Alma. Lucy slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You’re a born pessimist, Alma. Haven’t I rubbed off on you at least a little after all these years?”
A grin played over Alma’s lips. “Funny, I was just wondering the same thing about you.” Stopping by the bassinet, she bent over and kissed the infant softly on the forehead. “Take care of her, Elena,” she whispered to the baby. “She hasn’t got enough sense to come in out of the rain.”
Giving Alma a hug, Lucy stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she reminded her.
Alma frowned. “You can call, fax or e-mail anything you’ve done. There’s no reason for you to come in.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Besides, there’s still cleanup to do. I’ve been talking to Beth,” she said when Alma raised a questioning eyebrow at her source of information. “I can’t call, fax or e-mail that.”
“What about Elena?” Alma asked.
“Elena will come with me, just like we planned.” Lucy smiled fondly at the sleeping infant, her heart stirring. “About time she started pulling her own weight.”
Alma allowed herself to be ushered to the door. “Right, high time. Slacking off this way for what, almost two weeks now?”
“Almost.”
Alma could only shake her head as she left.
Dylan was getting accustomed to this, he realized as he pocketed the key Lucy had given him to the front door. He was accustomed to coming here at the end of the day instead of facing the solemn quiet of the apartment where he lived.
He turned the knob, entering. Behind him, Dylan heard Kane’s vehicle driving away. He knew the danger in that, in getting too complacent. In expecting things and accepting them as part of his life. It set him up.
The warm aroma of food, tempting and spicy and about to be taken from the oven, greeted him before Lucy had a chance to call out to him.
“Hi. We’re in the kitchen.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” he asked, walking in.
He had his answer before she could say anything. Elena was sitting on the counter strapped into her infant seat, securely backed up against the wall.
“Why, Elena and me. Who were you expecting?” And then she looked at him. He looked as if he’d just walked home in the bottom of a pool. “Where did you spend the day, in a sauna?”
“Something like that.”
She watched him as he stripped off his jacket, leaving it draped over the back of a chair. As careless as he was with his clothes, that was how careful he was with his weapon. Taking his holster and gun, he neatly wrapped the belt around it before placing it on top of the refrigerator next to the revolving spice rack she had.
“I’m not quite sure that exactly qualifies as a spice,” she mused. He said nothing. She didn’t really expect him to. “You’re just in time.”
She saw his eyes scan the room, as if he expected something to pop out. “For what?”
“Dinner, of course.” The dining room felt too dreary tonight. She decided they’d eat in the kitchen. Removing the inventory sheets that had been spread out all over the surface, she’d set the table for two. “What did you think I meant?”
He shrugged, stopping to look at the baby. Elena made noises when he drew closer, as if she recognized him. He knew that wasn’t possible. “Just wondered.”
The heat had prompted her to become creative with a salad instead of making vegetables. She stopped lining up the ingredients and turned to look at him.
“I’ve had more scintillating conversations with my shoes. Is everything in your head classified, or can you divulge a few things now and then?”
He turned away from the baby. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Shredding the lettuce, she tossed it into a bowl and then began chopping tomatoes with more vigor than was necessary. “I’m talking about how you’ve become even more closemouthed than I remember you.”
It was better to say nothing than to risk saying something he shouldn’t. Something that might make her think that she was always on his mind.
“People change.”
She stopped chopping, her eyes meeting his. “You don’t. You stay constant.”
Opening the refrigerator, he rummaged around for a bottle of beer. One was all he’d allow himself even if he was off duty. One wouldn’t fog his brain. Finding it, he let the door close again. “So do you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
He took the can opener and flipped open the cap. “If you want it to be.”
She watched his Adam’s apple move as he tilted t
he bottle back and took a long pull. Lucy fought an overwhelming urge to run her fingers along his throat. “What I want it to be is more.”
He stopped drinking and looked at her. “More?”
“More.” It wasn’t that hard a word to understand. But maybe for him, it was. He was such a minimalist—except, she remembered, when it came to making love. Then the generosity of his spirit became very apparent. “More words, more meaning. More.” Determined, she placed herself in his path as he turned away from the counter and her. “Talk to me, Dylan.”
Why was she so set on getting under his skin? Didn’t she know what she did to him? “I thought I was.”
“No, I mean really talk. To me.” She paused. When he said nothing, she tried again. “Okay, I’ll help you out. I’ll give you a topic. How’s the investigation going?”
“Same as before.”
She almost laughed then, not in abject defeat, but in amusement. The man could be so stubborn. But then, so could she. “I guess your mother never got a note from your teacher complaining that you were talking in class when you shouldn’t be.”
A hint of a smile played on his lips just before he took another long drink from the bottle. “Nope, she never did.”
“If you think I’m going to give up on you—on getting you to hold up your end of a decent conversation,” she amended when he raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, “you’re wrong.”
She could have sworn she saw amusement enter his eyes. “Knock yourself out.”
Lucy had a feeling that she was going to have to. But there was no reason why, if they were forced together, they couldn’t at least behave like two people who had shared a friendship if nothing more. Because, if they weren’t friends in some context, then what was he doing here night after night, sleeping on a sofa that did nothing for his back?
“How long are you planning to sleep on the sofa?”
The question caught him off guard. He hadn’t been expecting that one. “As long as it takes to keep you safe.”
Tossing the tomatoes on top of the lettuce in the large salad bowl, she went on to select several zucchini. “Then your sleeping out there night after night might be counterproductive,” she murmured more to herself than to him.
He didn’t hear her. “What?”
Lucy shook her head, focusing on the zucchini she was slicing. “Never mind.”
But she’d aroused his curiosity. He caught her hand by the wrist, stopping her and forcing her to look up at him. “What did you say?”
The smile on her face was enigmatic. “How does it feel to have the shoe on the other foot?”
“It pinches.” Realizing that he was still holding her by the wrist, he released it, but he remained where he was. “What did you say?”
Free, she continued slicing. The rhythmic sound punctuated her words. “That maybe I’ll never be completely safe. Does that mean you’re planning on staying here indefinitely?”
There could be worse fates for him, he thought. But not for her. “Let’s take it one day at a time.”
The exact words she’d used in her mind when they had first begun their relationship. Odd that he should choose them. “Sounds promising.”
He saw the look in her eyes and knew enough to be wary. “Lucy—”
Wriggling, Elena had decided to turn her whimper into a full-fledged cry, drawing both of their attention. Inspired, Lucy purposely continued chopping. “Uh-oh, sounds like someone needs to be changed.” She looked at him innocently over her shoulder. “I’ve got my hands full, do you want to do the honors?”
“Honors?” he echoed.
She nodded her head toward the baby. “Change her.”
Dylan stared at her incredulously. The first time he’d ever held a baby was during Elena’s birth. He hadn’t the slightest clue what to do with one after that. “Into what?”
“A clean diaper.” Lucy bit back a laugh. It was the first time she’d ever seen Dylan at a complete loss. “You’ll find them in my room. There’s a changing table against the wall.”
Dylan remained where he was. “I don’t know a diaper pin from a bowling pin.”
“The diaper pin closes. Besides, you’re in luck. You won’t need any kind of pin. I’m using the disposable kind.”
Instead of picking up the infant, he elbowed Lucy aside at the table. “Why don’t I take over what you’re doing in the kitchen and you change Elena?” It wasn’t a suggestion, merely a statement of intent. He took the knife from her.
“Coward.”
He wasn’t about to argue with her. He knew where his strengths lay. “You’ve got that right.”
“Put down the knife, tough guy, and come with me.” Unstrapping Elena, she picked the infant up from the seat. “Dinner can wait.”
“Look, I’m much better at this sort of thing.”
But she shook her head. “Don’t forget, I remember what your meals tasted like.”
“This isn’t a meal,” he protested, “it’s a salad.”
“Which means that it’s not about to go anywhere. You’re a man, you’re supposed to take pride in leaving yourself open to new experiences.”
Where the hell did she pick that up? “I think helping you give birth should just about have that new experiences quota covered for the next six months.”
She was a woman with a mission. Maybe she couldn’t tell Dylan he was Elena’s father, but since he was here, for however long he was here, she wanted him to take an active part in the little girl’s life.
Very deliberately, Lucy hooked her free arm through his and began to usher Dylan out of the room. “Think again, tough guy.”
Chapter 10
Dylan approached the changing table warily, standing just behind Lucy as she set the baby down. Saying he felt like a duck out of water didn’t begin to cover it. More like an alien on someone else’s home planet. Not fitting in never mattered to him one way or another. When it occurred, the fact barely registered.
But he knew when he was out of his depth and this certainly was it.
“Okay, she’s all set for you.” One hand still holding Elena in place, Lucy took a step back to give Dylan clear access to the baby.
Irritated at being put in this position, he maintained his ground and took refuge in his annoyance. “Look, there’s no point to this.”
Oh, no, he couldn’t back out that easily. Now that she’d made up her mind, Lucy wasn’t about to let him just waltz away. “There’s a point to everything. You never know when this might come in handy.”
His dark eyebrows drew together for an even darker scowl. “Police detectives don’t get calls for emergency diaper changings.”
It amazed her how such a handsome face could turn so foreboding with just a simple shift of a few muscles. “What if you came across an abandoned baby, crying and obviously uncomfortable because of an overloaded, soggy diaper? What then?”
Given the nature of his work, he doubted that was going to happen anytime soon. He conveniently ignored the fact that he hadn’t thought he’d ever have to assist at a birth, either.
“I’d turn it over to my partner. Watley’s expecting his first kid. Wears a beeper like some cross around his neck. By the time your little scenario comes around, he’d know what to do.”
The baby was kicking under her hand. Lucy continued looking at Dylan, unfazed by his attempt to shrug her off. “What if you were alone?”
He blew out an exasperated breath. The woman had more staying power than tar. “You don’t give up, do you?”
Her eyes held his for a long moment. “No, not always.”
Dylan knew what she meant, what wasn’t being said. That she had given up on him as far as their relationship went. He also knew that it was all for the good, even if she didn’t seem to think so.
So why did it feel as if someone was pulling his heart in two when he thought of spending the rest of his life without her?
Needing something to block the thought that had sudden seemed bent on surrounding him,
he surrendered to the likeliest candidate. Approaching the table, he looked down at the infant. How could anything so cute and innocent-looking smell so bad?
“Okay,” he growled, “let’s get this over with.”
“Spoken like a trooper.” Trying not to laugh at his pained expression, Lucy reached for a diaper and handed it to him.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, she thought, but it looked as if it was finally going to be under construction.
Lifting Elena from the table, she patted the solidly padded behind as she smiled at Dylan. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Not the last time,” he allowed.
Muttering something under his breath, he bent down to pick up the two previous diapers he’d attempted to put on. The ones that had fallen off because the tabs had lost their staying power after being applied and reapplied to the sides of the diaper as he’d attempted to make each in turn fit snugly. At this present rate of dexterity, every time Elena went to the bathroom it would cost five dollars to change her.
“Can’t win the Kentucky Derby first time right out of the starting gate,” she said glibly. “But you never will if you don’t try.”
Frowning, he dismissed her words as just so much meaningless noise. “Don’t see the connection.”
She wasn’t about to explain it to him. That would be too much like preaching, and she had a feeling that nothing made Dylan shut down faster than a sermon. “Think about it.” Elena safely tucked against her, she walked back into the kitchen. “Oh, by the way, I’m going back to work tomorrow.”
He stopped in his tracks just past the doorway, staring at the back of her head. Was she crazy? It hadn’t even been two weeks. “Why?”
Alma had said the same thing. She gave him the same answers. “Because there’re a lot of things I can’t do there from here. Because I’m going a little crazy just staying at home.”
She wasn’t one of those women who could become the perfect homebody, even if there hadn’t been a living to earn. It just wasn’t her style. She needed variety, somewhere to go so that coming home was special.
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