Nancy let out a gentle snore from the easy chair. Quinn had given George and Nancy his bed last night and slept on the couch. Nancy had insisted she’d tossed and turned because she was so excited.
“A real Christmas!” she’d declared last night, eyes shining.
Quinn had vanquished his guilt for shutting them out by resolving it wouldn’t happen again. For better or worse, they were his family.
They’d cleaned up the wrapping-paper disaster before eating, but a couple of bows still reposed beneath the coffee table, he heard tissue paper crinkling when he shifted and ribbon trailed over the back of Nancy’s chair. The mess was somehow reassuring. It meant Nancy was right; this was a real Christmas.
His gaze kept wandering back to the birdhouse Mindy had made for him. Every time, a smile would tug at his mouth. She’d constructed in miniature an old-fashioned jail, with little iron bars on the windows. But the barred door, flung open, seemed to be hanging from one hinge—though when Quinn poked it with one finger it was solid—and to the side a decrepit scaffolding now served as the support for a flowering vine painted in intricate detail. Maybe she was trying to say something about him. He wasn’t sure. But the darn thing was clever.
He noticed she was still wearing the necklace he’d given her, too. The pendant was a daisy, tiny diamond petals surrounding a yellow topaz center. Pretty and sunny. Her face had lit when she’d opened the package, so he hoped she really liked it.
A faint odor drifted to Quinn’s nostrils, rousing him from his contented stupor. “Diaper time,” he said.
Mindy stirred.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”
“Isn’t he sweet?” she asked the room in general.
George laughed at Quinn’s response. Stretching, George said, “I suppose I should wake Nancy so we can think about getting going.”
“You could stay another night,” Quinn suggested as he stood, Jessie’s stinky butt resting in the crook of his arm. “Avoid the ferry lines. We can snack on leftovers later.”
“I feel bad taking your bed another night.”
“It’s been great having you here. I don’t mind the couch.” Funny how easy it was to say that, when not that long ago he’d relegated George and Nancy to the category of distant acquaintances. Dean’s family, not really his. “Think about it,” he said, and went off to change Jessie’s diaper.
The Howies did stay. Even Quinn got roped into playing pinochle during the evening. He discovered once again that he and Mindy made a damn good team.
The sleeper couch was supposed to be a good one, but it still wasn’t comfortable for someone of Quinn’s bulk and height. But he really didn’t mind. The day had been a good one. He wished it wasn’t over.
In the morning he saw Mindy’s light under her door, and she came out looking heavy-eyed and cranky.
“You know that saying about sleeping like a baby? Don’t believe it.”
He slid the mug of coffee he’d just poured for himself across the breakfast bar and reached into the cupboard for a second mug. “I didn’t hear her crying.”
“That’s because I didn’t want her to disturb the Howies. I leapt up every time she squeaked. The poor kid was probably just talking in her sleep, and I kept snatching her up to nurse or to check her diaper or to rock. What do you want to bet she’s as exhausted as I am today?”
“You can both nap once the Howies leave.”
“You’d better believe it,” she agreed with fervency.
He took a swallow of coffee, cursed when it burned his mouth, and said, “I’d better take this with me.”
Sitting there in her bathrobe, bare toes curled over the rung of the stool and her hands wrapped around the mug, she said, “Have a good day.”
A man could get used to having a pretty woman get up to see him off in the morning and be there to greet him when he got home.
This one had better not get too used to it.
“Yeah, you have a good day, too,” he said, and left.
For most of the next week, he felt more natural with Mindy again. He could almost forget the sight of her bare breast and his own primitive response. The holiday and all those warm, fuzzy feelings had cast a spell that briefly canceled out darker emotions like guilt and lust.
They celebrated New Year’s Eve by watching the party in Times Square on TV, talking about other years, trips to New York City, how Jessamine hadn’t even been thought of a year ago. Mindy said that in astonishment, as if no Jessie was unthinkable. At midnight, they clinked their glasses of champagne together, took a few sips and went to bed. He’d never enjoyed a New Year’s Eve more.
Lust made a roaring comeback two nights later when Quinn met Mindy in the hall after he’d thought she was in bed. He wore nothing but pajama bottoms. She had on a short T-shirt and skimpy royal-blue panties. His stunned gaze took in long, perfectly shaped legs and the swell of hips that weren’t as boyish as he’d imagined from seeing them clothed.
Her gaze collided with his chest and never lifted to his face. Color washed over her face as she retreated. “Oh…um…I’m sorry. Jessie peed on my lap.”
She slipped into her bedroom and closed the door. His last glimpse was of the pale curve of ass barely covered by the French-cut panties.
Quinn stifled a raw groan so she wouldn’t hear him.
The next evening, he went to the gym and worked out until his muscles groaned and his vision blurred. He walked in the house, heard her giggle float from the living room, and got hard. Gritting his teeth, he thought, I can’t live like this.
“Quinn? Is that you?”
“Yeah, I’m home,” he called back. “Let me throw my stuff in the wash.”
She sat cross-legged on the sofa in flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt, Jessie against her shoulder. She gave a firm pat, and Jessie belched.
He couldn’t help smiling. “Hey, she’s going to be able to burp those boys under the table when she gets to school.”
Mindy gave him a laughing look over her shoulder. “Oh, great.”
“They’ll all have a crush on her.”
“Who was the first girl you remember having a crush on?” Mindy nuzzled the baby’s neck.
He didn’t have to think. “Rebecca Kane. Fifth grade. She was hot.”
“You mean, she was getting breasts.”
“Right,” he agreed, sitting in his easy chair, a safe distance from her. “That’s a fifth-grade boy’s only requirement.”
Mindy made a face at him. “I had no figure at all until I was in eighth grade.”
He pictured her, a stick of a girl with big gray-green eyes and that defiant haircut. No, maybe she’d had pigtails and been meek. He could imagine her just a little shy, not yet having come into her own.
Thinking about Mindy’s figure was not healthy for him. “I’m going to hit the sack,” he said, standing. “You two stay up and play all night if you want.”
Mindy lifted Jessie so he could give her a smack on her small button nose. Then he grinned at her. “Sleep tight, kiddo.”
She smiled. Her whole body smiled. Her arms flapped and her face lit with delight.
Pierced to the heart, Quinn said, “Mindy. Did you see that?”
“See what?” She looked up at him in alarm.
“Turn her around. Smile at her.”
“What?” She set Jessie back in her lap, her hand cradling Jessie’s head. “What’s that man talking about?” she crooned, smiling and tickling her tiny daughter’s stomach.
Jessie turned it on like a light.
“Oh, Jessie! Quinn! Oh!” Mindy almost sounded teary. “Did you see? Look at her!”
“I’m looking.”
He couldn’t tear himself away. He hung over the back of the couch grinning at the baby like some idiot just so she’d grin back. Mindy laughed and told Jessie she was the most beautiful baby ever born.
“You are very, very clever to make your mommy and…” She visibly checked before continuing, “And Quin
n so happy. Isn’t she, Quinn?”
Mindy sounded breathless, as if she’d almost said daddy. Your mommy and daddy.
Damn it all to hell.
“Yeah.” Even to his ears, his voice had changed. Become remote. “She’s a smart baby. But I’d still better go to bed.”
A man could lead himself to bed, but that didn’t mean he’d sleep. Not when he felt as if he were flying over paradise, craning his neck to look down from that airplane window, wanting to storm the cockpit and yell, “Land here!” even though he knew there wasn’t a runway.
He just couldn’t imagine Mindy looking at him with anything but shock and loathing if he hit on her. Even if he was wrong, even if miraculously she turned out to feel the same way he did, how could he look at himself in the mirror knowing he had what should have been Dean’s?
What would have been Dean’s, if not for a bullet.
SHE’D ALMOST SAID daddy.
She couldn’t stay, Mindy thought in panic. She felt as if they were a family, but they weren’t. She’d seen the look on Quinn’s face, seen his instant retreat. She had scared him, thinking that way.
Steeling herself, the next night at dinner Mindy said, “You know, I can’t stay here forever.”
His gaze sharpened. “There’s no hurry.”
“I know. But, well, what I was wondering is, if I rent an apartment where I can’t set up a workshop, could I maybe pay you a little a month…”
His expression became forbidding.
“Or something,” she continued, more raggedly, “to keep using yours?”
He scowled. “I’m not using it. Of course you can! You know I won’t take money from you.”
“I had to offer!” she retorted.
“Well, you have an answer. The damn garage is yours when you need it. Because we’re friends, and I’m not using it right now anyway.”
She bit her lip. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Subject closed.
But he stayed moody for the rest of the evening and retreated to his bedroom early.
The next day, she looked at two apartments. She hated the first, and the second was nice but didn’t feel secure with ground-floor windows and no reassuring landlord upstairs.
A week later, she found one she liked. It was in West Seattle, within walking distance of Safeway. The building had only four units, and a tenant in the one that would be below hers had a toddler, according to the owner. Maybe they could exchange babysitting, Mindy thought hopefully. With two bedrooms, Jessie could have her own.
The neighborhood was nice, so Quinn couldn’t complain, and it wasn’t more than a mile or two from his house, so if he wanted to visit Jessie he could easily.
“I’ll take it.” She pulled her checkbook out of her purse. “How much do you need?”
She put off for several days telling Quinn that she’d actually rented a place, finally vowing that tonight would be the night. Her resolve faltered when Quinn came home with deep creases between his eyebrows. He looked battered and soul-weary.
Mindy had started dinner earlier, a bean-and-rice casserole, and had just put corn bread in to bake. Seeing him standing in the kitchen doorway, she said, “You look exhausted! Did you have a bad day?”
“Stepdad beat a two-year-old to death, then tried to bury the body.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Son of a bitch.”
“Oh, Quinn,” she breathed.
“The kids are always tough.” He seemed to give himself a shake. “Smells good. Where’s Jessie?” He spotted her lying on a quilt, her hand tightly clutching a red plastic rattle Mindy had put in it. “There’s my pretty girl,” he murmured, lifting her into his arms.
He set her down again while he went to take off his jacket and weapon, then said, “Shall I make a salad while you nurse?”
“Bless you,” Mindy told him, and carried Jessie to the living-room couch.
Quinn was dishing up when she came back from putting Jessie down for her evening nap.
“A two-year-old.” She poured them both milk. “I can’t imagine.”
The creases deepened. “Yeah.”
She touched his arm and felt the muscles tighten. “I’m sorry, Quinn.”
“Crappy day.” He shrugged. “It happens. How was yours?”
“It was fine. Jessie had a good nap.”
As they ate, Mindy sensed he would have preferred to retreat into silence. The knowledge that he would rather have been alone emboldened her at last to push her empty plate away and say, “Quinn, I rented an apartment.”
“What?”
“I can’t move in until the first, so you’re stuck with us for a couple more weeks, but you did keep saying there wasn’t any hurry.”
“You’re moving out.” He sounded stunned.
“Yes, but not far away.” She told him about the apartment, hearing herself talking faster and faster in an artificially cheerful voice. “There’s even covered parking!” she said, as if claiming a sunken Jacuzzi tub or a hot tub on her deck.
“Why the decision to move?” Quinn set down his fork, his voice harsh.
“Jessie is six weeks old. I’ve been here for two and a half months now.”
Muscles flexed in his jaw. “So?”
“So I think it’s time to prove to us both that I can be independent.” Mindy moistened her lips. “Quinn, what you did for me is amazing. But I’m not contributing in any way. I’m guessing if I offered you rent you’d say no.” His expression told her she was right. “There must be days when you’d give anything to be able to come home to an empty, peaceful house.”
“Have I said that?”
“No.”
“Then don’t make assumptions.” He looked at her with a flat gaze. “But obviously you’re ready to strike out on your own and that’s okay. God knows it would be awkward if you lived here and wanted to date.”
Date? The idea had never even occurred to her. She couldn’t imagine ever wanting to flirt and go out to dinner with some man who wasn’t Quinn.
Then, feeling dense, she realized what he was really saying. “You haven’t been dating, either, have you? Of course you haven’t! It would have been hard to explain Jessie and me, wouldn’t it?”
He sounded ticked. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“You do date?”
“I haven’t since Dean died.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “Oh, dear. We’re a pair of cripples, aren’t we?”
Some emotion flared in his eyes. “I’ll go find my goddamn crutch.” He shoved back from the table. “I’ll hope I don’t need it the day you’re moving.”
She stared after him, her chest feeling hollow.
She’d hurt him. She could tell she had. But he couldn’t want her to stay forever. Could he?
No. Her eyes welled with tears she refused to let fall. Maybe she’d annoyed him, but that was all. It was time for her to go, just as she’d planned.
THE NEXT TWO WEEKS reminded her of the final weeks of pregnancy. The days had seemed to go on forever, and yet she’d dreaded them ending.
Quinn was unfailingly polite and distant with her while remaining affectionate with Jessie. He reiterated several times that Mindy was welcome to continue to use the garage. She thanked him repeatedly. She hated every minute with this pleasant stranger, and then knew in the same minute that she’d miss him more than she had Dean.
Guilt sliced her at that thought, causing her to miss something Quinn had said and earn a slightly lifted brow.
“Is something wrong?”
“No! No. I’m sorry, I just…my mind was wandering.”
“I was saying that Benson in fraud says he and his wife want to get rid of some baby stuff. He mentioned a crib and a playpen and some kind of swing that hangs in a doorway.”
“Oh.” She recalled herself to the moment, tucking the guilt away to be examined another time. “That would be great.”
“Benson said his wife is home days if you’d like to go pick out anything you w
ant before they have a garage sale.”
Mindy took the name and number of the fraud detective’s wife and thanked Quinn. He assured her she was welcome. She could almost see him mentally x-ing off another day on the calendar when he said good-night. Five days to go.
Then four. And three.
They got even more polite, more careful with every word spoken. A growing sense of loss made her chest feel as if it were encased in lead. Drawing a deep breath became hard. She woke every morning aware of the heaviness.
With only two days to go, her mother dropped by. No surprise there—she’d visited at least weekly since Jessie had been born.
Mindy knew better than to think her mother was there to see her. Maybe, she thought unkindly, Jessie was appealing because she could still be dressed up like a doll. In pink.
It was all Mindy could do not to roll her eyes at the sight of her mother, of all people, cooing and babbling nonsense at Jessie, who lay on the middle cushion of the sofa, kicking and flapping her arms in delight at the lady bending over her making silly faces.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee? Tea?”
“Goochy goochy goo!” Her mom tickled Jessie, who grinned.
More loudly, Mindy said, “Looks like you’re enjoying being a grandmother.”
Her mother glanced at her. “You don’t have to sound surprised.”
It had to be her mood, because Mindy was shocked to hear herself say, “Well, you never seemed too thrilled with motherhood.”
That did it. Her mother straightened. “Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she muttered, like a sulky teenager.
“You know, our relationship is a two-way street.”
Anger flared in her. “Was it a two-way street when I was five? Six? Ten? I never remember you tickling me and laughing! Are you saying I didn’t give enough back to keep you interested?”
Her mother actually jerked, as if Mindy had hit her. But then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I suppose being a mother didn’t come to me naturally. As it turned out, my…abilities or lack of them didn’t much matter. You were Daddy’s girl from the beginning.”
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