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“I let the lawyer do it—I figured if anyone deserved a punch, it was him.”
Zach laughed. “Good thinking. Are you hungry?” Her wrists, in red bracelets, were sparrow-small, her collarbones a little obvious. He wondered if she’d been working too hard and forgetting to eat.
She slipped off the chair. “I’m always hungry. Where shall we go?”
CAROL HARMON HELD BACK against the tug of her friend’s hand. “This is a high-end store, Jen. We could get into real trouble for just touching something. Let alone taking it.”
“Don’t be a wimp.” Jen tightened her grip and pulled Carol through the glass doorway. “Or we won’t let you join CW. Crooked Women aren’t wusses.”
“Neither am I!” But there were fur coats on one side of them, sequined dresses on the other. This place even smelled rich. And rich people didn’t like losing their stuff.
“So, come on.” Jen walked into the forest of sequins with her hands in her pockets, whistling.
Carol thought about leaving—but she didn’t have a way to get home. She thought about her sisters and her brothers, the cops in her family—Rachel, Grant and, especially, Zach—and what they’d do if they caught her shoplifting. Her best friend, Sam, would beat her up before she let her do something like this.
But Sam lived in Florida now, with a new school and new friends. Carol missed her. She was tired of hanging out by herself, writing letters because there was nobody to talk to. Or going to ball games with her brothers, movies with her sisters. It was time to grow up. Get a life.
All the cool people belonged to Crooked Women. And they wanted her to join. Why not? What did she really have to lose?
She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and hurried across the gold marble floor. “Hey, Jen! Jen, wait up!”
SHELLEY WASN’T SURE whether nerves or the baby had affected her appetite, but she could put away a mountain of food these days. Zach didn’t seem to mind when she finished her stuffed mushrooms and asked for one of his cheese sticks, and he gave her some of his steak before she even thought to ask. Dessert was cherries jubilee—she enjoyed every bite and thought she’d probably have room left for a sandwich before bedtime. Unless...
Unless she and Zach were otherwise occupied.
She couldn’t tell if he expected the evening to end in bed. More than halfway through dinner, she still didn’t know why he’d called. Surely he wanted more than this casual flirting, a lighthearted conversation between friends. They weren’t friends. And they weren’t lovers, exactly. Shelley couldn’t define what she and Zach were to each other.
Besides the parents of a child.
She shook her head to clear the thought. As long as she kept the baby out of her mind, she could keep the subject out of conversation. Zach wouldn’t want to know.
Would he?
“You said you’re coaching Little League,” she ventured as they walked to his car after dinner. “How old are the kids?”
He closed her door, came around and got in. “Ten to twelve. They’re a lot of fun.”
“What’s your record so far?”
“Three won, four lost. Do you like baseball?”
“I played softball in high school.” And she might be watching Little League games in a few years. “Coaching takes up a lot of time, when you don’t get paid.” She came closer to the point. “And when you don’t have kids of your own.”
“That’s the way I like it. When they’re tired and dirty and hungry, somebody else takes them home, listens to them whine, yells at them to take a bath and fixes their dinner. Me, I pick up some fast food and a good book and stay as far away from the family trap as I can.”
And that was that. Shelley turned to stare out the window, blinking back tears and giving up on a stillborn hope.
“What kind of music do you like...? Shelley? You still with me?”
She didn’t hear him for a few seconds, and had to recall his question. “Oh...whatever’s on, I guess. I don’t listen to much music.”
“How do you feel about hearing some jazz tonight?”
Shelley pasted on her professional smile and turned in the seat to face him. “Sounds like fun.”
She was surprised to find that she did, indeed, have fun. The Indigo Jazz and Blues Club bulged at the seams with people, but the owner, Jimmy Falcon, took her and Zach to a reserved table near the stage. The group they listened to played music she enjoyed, Zach kept her glass filled with ice water while he drank soda, and they shared a bowl of popcorn.
Best of all, they couldn’t talk much. And she couldn’t think much, with the band so close and the music loud. Jimmy came over during intermission and sat with them, preventing any personal conversation at all. More music, more drinks, two trips for Shelley to the crowded rest room. She checked her makeup in the mirror and noticed that her linen dress hadn’t wrinkled too badly. She avoided thinking about anything else.
They stayed until the last set ended, until the club emptied and the staff started to stack the chairs. Jimmy and Zach reminisced about some of their funnier exploits as police partners. Shelley laughed a lot, which was better than crying.
Then she and Zach were in the car on the way back to her house. The silence begged to be filled, but avoiding the subject uppermost in her mind tied her tongue.
She fell back on professional patter. “Where do you live? Do you rent or own?”
“Southeast from downtown. I own a bungalow with lots of trees, casement windows and antique plumbing.”
“You live alone?”
He flashed a grin. “Yeah. I waited almost thirty years to get my own bathroom. Now I don’t share with anybody.”
You shared with me, three months ago. Shelley didn’t voice the protest aloud. “Property values have gone up in that area of the city. You’ve probably got good equity accumulating. Have you thought about moving into something with better plumbing?”
“I’m staying put. I’d like to get the place paid off in another ten years, and then I won’t owe anybody.”
“No credit cards?”
“I pay those off every month.”
“No car loan?”
“Paid off last year.”
“Impressive money management,” she said, and meant it. “Living within your income is a lost art these days.”
“Does that make me an old codger?” There was that grin again.
Shelley couldn’t help smiling back. “If the dirtbrown sweater with darned moth holes and worn elbows fits...”
“I’m throwing it out first thing tomorrow morning!”
They laughed together, and Shelley tried to relax. But the closer they got to her house, the more her dinner started to unsettle. She planned to invite Zach in for coffee, expected him to say yes. After that, the situation would get dangerous. If he stayed for anything more, she really wasn’t sure she could—or should—keep her secret.
Finally, they crossed the front lawn through a warm summer night filled with cricket songs and starshine. Shelley unlocked the door, stepped inside and turned on the lamps in the foyer. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
He stood on the threshold and stared back at her, an expression in his blue eyes she couldn’t read. Finally, he shook his head. “All that soda has me wired. Thanks, anyway.”
Shelley swallowed hard, nearly drowning in disappointment. Tonight must have been some kind of test—and she’d failed. Zach didn’t like spending time with her, didn’t want to sleep with her again. He hadn’t called for three months, then thought maybe he should double-check his judgment, to be sure. One more dose of Shelley Hightower convinced him that he’d had enough. On to the next candidate.
Well, he didn’t need to know how much that hurt. “I had a great time this evening. The Indigo was a real pleasure. Tell Jimmy thanks for the special treatment.” She started to close the door.
“Shelley?”
She looked out into the dark, saw his face caught in the line of light from indoors and hardened her heart against his cocky grin. “Yes?”
The chill in her voice banished that grin. He backed up a step. “Sleep tight.”
“You, too.” She shut the door before he’d even turned around, and locked it.
Leaning back against the panel, she let herself slide down to the floor. There, she drew up her knees and curled her shoulders and bowed her head, cradling her baby with all of herself.
“It’s you and me together, kid,” she whispered. “And we’re going to make it...on our own!”
CHAPTER FOUR
ZACH STOOD on the front porch and stared at the door to Shelley’s house until the lights went off inside.
What the hell just happened?
He thought about ringing the bell, or pounding the damn door down. He thought about serenading under Shelley’s window, assuming he could figure out which one belonged to her bedroom. He thought about sleeping on her doorstep and facing her over the morning paper.
In the end, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the car. He carefully kept to the speed limit until he hit the interstate. Then he floored the gas. The Trans Am growled its way up to seventy, heading north.
After an hour of fast driving, he exited, got fuel and a soda, then started back to Denver. He reached the city limits without finding an answer to his question.
What the hell had happened?
All evening, he’d had the feeling he couldn’t quite reach her. She’d been wary from the minute he walked into the house—except for the kiss. He’d known exactly where they were during that kiss.
And then, just as he was about to ask for another date, she froze him out.
“What did I do?” Zach stalked into his house and threw his keys on the kitchen counter. “What didn’t I do?”
The only response was the blinking light on his answering machine. Darius the Perfect Persian strolled in, winked golden eyes and strolled out again.
“Glad to see you, too.” Zach had adopted Claire’s cat when she married. After two years, he and Dar had come to tolerate each other, and sometimes even sat on the couch at the same time. Not much of a replacement for Claire, but the best either of them could do, since Darius hated ranch life with a passion.
Pulling a carton of milk out of the refrigerator, Zach punched the message button on the machine as he took a swig.
“Zachary, it’s Mom. Please call, no matter how late you get in.”
She sounded well, but worried. Zach picked up the phone and hit the autodial number for his mother. Family problems would give him something to think about besides Shelley.
His mother’s wide-awake “Hello” told him just how worried she was.
“Hi, Mom. It’s Zach. What’s wrong?”
“You sound strange. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why did you call?”
“Your sister was nearly arrested tonight.”
Zach choked on his milk. “Which sister?”
“Carol, of course.”
“What happened?”
“She was caught shoplifting in a store at the mall.”
“Damn. Did they book her?”
“Don’t swear, Zachary. No, the officer let her off with a warning. But you have to talk to her.”
“Mom—”
“You’re the only one she listens to these days. Ever since your father died, nothing I say seems to matter.”
He sighed quietly. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. Is tomorrow soon enough?”
“Of course. I’ll expect you for lunch after church.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Sleep well, Zachary.”
Yeah, right. “You, too, Mom.”
Zach punched the phone’s off button and set it back into the cradle. Finishing the last of the milk, he trashed the carton, flipped off the light and headed for the bedroom.
As predicted, sleep didn’t come easily. He couldn’t get his little sister out of his mind. She’d taken their dad’s death hard—they all had. Zach had spent time with her for his own sake, as well as hers. He taught her to bat and pitch, shot hoops with her, took her and her best friend to Broncos games. She’d been busier since she started high school last September—more involved with friends and social events—so he’d seen less of her, which he’d considered progress for both of them.
Flopping over in bed, he groaned. “Guess that’s another mistake I’ll have to correct.”
Like the mysterious goof with Shelley. Should he call her again? Would she call him? Or was her brush-off tonight a not-so-subtle hint that she didn’t want to see him anymore? He wasn’t her type—she went for high-powered, high-profile, high-profit guys like her ex-husband.
“Damn her, anyway,” he growled, bunching up the pillow. “I’ve got better things to do than chase after a woman who’s not interested. Right, Dar, buddy?”
Zach turned his head and eyed the cat reclining in the blue wing chair, his usual throne. A circle of light from the street lamp outside spotlighted long white fur, an indolent pose, enigmatic eyes. As he watched, Darius lifted a paw, carefully cleaned the pads with a few elegant sweeps of his pink tongue, then lowered his head and closed his eyes. In another second, he was snoring.
“Gee, thanks, pal. You’re a prince.” Zach smoothed the pillow and tried to settle in again. “If that’s what getting neutered does for you, maybe I should be talking to the vet!”
BECAUSE SHE USUALLY worked Sunday afternoons, Shelley made a point each week of calling her daughter by 8:00 a.m., before Allyson’s father took her to church.
This morning, Allyson herself answered. “Hello?”
Shelley sighed with pleasure. Just a single word from her daughter soothed like summer rain. “Hi, baby. How are you?”
