“Zach is my husband.” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY Copyright

“Zach is my husband.”

Shelley looked straight into Zach’s mother’s face and continued. “We were married three weeks ago in Las Vegas.”

The older woman looked at her son. “You didn’t think we might want to know beforehand?”

“We had our reasons for doing it this way,” Zach replied.

His mother turned back to Shelley. “But...what about Mr. Hightower?”

“I’m sorry—I thought you knew.” Shelley’s voice was a little shaky. “I was divorced from him six years ago.”

“But you’re carrying his child.”

“No, Mom.” Zach spoke before Shelley could. “The baby’s mine.”

“You mean you and Mrs. Hightower...were...are...”

“Yes, Mom. We’re married. And we’re having a baby.”

Dear Reader,

According to a Victorian saying, “The first baby can come anytime. The rest take nine months.”

Babies conceived before marriage have been a fact of life since the beginning of human society. The emotions associated with sex—the desire to be wanted, to be accepted, to be loved—wield great power in our lives. Even in this age of reliable birth control, these needs sometimes, even often, overwhelm our sincere attempts to direct destiny.

In Expecting the Best, Zach Harmon and Shelley Hightower are determined to be cautious. And yet, in that capricious way fate sometimes employs, there’s a baby on the way. This couple’s story is about adjusting, accepting and appreciating the possibilities offered by an unexpected detour. That process, when I think about it, seems to be the very definition of “living.”

Some books write themselves, and Expecting the Best is one of those. Zach and Shelley are people who say what they think. As the writer, all I had to do was listen. I’ve enjoyed spending time with them, and hope you will, too.

Hearing from readers is a great pleasure. Please feel free to write me at Box 17195, Fayetteville, NC 28314.

Thanks for reading.

Lynnette Kent

Expecting the Best
Lynnette Kent

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Lucy,

a wistful revision of history

CHAPTER ONE

THIRTY MINUTES. He would be here in thirty minutes.

Wearing only perfume and lingerie, Shelley Hightower stared at the array of dresses blanketing her bed. What in the world made choosing something to wear this Friday night so difficult?

“Black?” She fingered the hem of a beaded sheath. The dress felt heavy, and she didn’t like the way the crystals winked.

“Red?” But the red was an Oriental print with gold and teal and too much braided trim. Six months ago, she’d loved the outfit and bought it just for tonight. Now the effect only seemed...loud.

“White?” As if she were a bride? Hardly.

Her stomach tightened. “Maybe I should just put on a coat and go to the banquet in my underwear,” she groaned. “I don’t suppose Zach Harmon will notice one way or the other.”

Other people would notice, though. Accepting tonight’s award for top seller at the Denver Realtors’ dinner represented the pinnacle of Shelley’s career. She wanted to make an impression, convey an image of class and style and success.

That’s where Zach came in. Good-looking...okay, more than that, he was gorgeous. Personable. Funny and a great dancer. A bona fide hero with police-department decorations for proof. In other words, the perfect date to complement her career.

Even better, they barely knew each other. The wedding of mutual friends and a few parties were the only times they’d encountered each other over the last couple of years. Three hours of superficial conversation at tonight’s social function with hundreds of other people wouldn’t require any kind of commitment beyond good manners.

So why did she care what he thought of her dress?

The image that slipped into her thoughts twisted her insides even further... the image of a beautiful, elegant woman whose every move telegraphed class. An accomplished, intelligent woman who could hold her own with senators and CEOs and saints.

That was Claire Cavanaugh, the woman now married to Shelley’s ex-husband. The same woman who had introduced Zach Harmon into Shelley’s life. Zach and Claire might even have been lovers at one time, and they were still close friends. With that level of competition, how could a merely mortal woman possibly choose a dress?

Shelley glanced at the clock—twenty minutes—and looked back at the bed. Pink?

“Good grief!” She stomped into her closet and glared at the rack of gowns there, all of which looked gaudy, dated, ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly wear any of them. She would be accepting the award in her underwear after all.

Having disqualified every dress in her closet, she took the only option left. Closing her eyes, she spun in a circle three times and stretched out her hand. Whichever dress she touched first would be the one. No arguments.

Ten minutes later, with less than that to spare, she opened the jewelry box. Diamonds? Gold? Silver? “Damn!”

The doorbell rang before she’d decided which shoes would work. Should she leave him standing in the cold? Choose anything, then come back up to change them? Go down barefoot?

All Shelley knew for sure was that if she gave in to the angry tears in her eyes, her mascara would run. Then the whole evening would fall apart, and she couldn’t afford to have that happen. She wanted this award, wanted recognition from the people she worked with—and against. She’d established an enviable career, one that mattered more than almost anything else in her life.

Because the career was the only thing she’d ever done right.

ZACH RANG the doorbell a second time and plunged his hands into his overcoat pockets. The sky was spitting snow, with a windchill of barely ten degrees. When would somebody open the damn door?

At his thought, the blue panel swung back. Zach blinked against the light flooding into his face. “Shelley?”

“Come in, Zach. Sorry I kept you waiting.”

“No problem.” His eyes adjusted as he stepped inside. When he turned, his first look at the woman by the door hit like a solid punch beneath the ribs.

She wasn’t what—who—he’d expected. The Shelley Hightower he knew was bright and brittle, smart and savvy, but just a little too much of each.

The woman before him seemed, well, kinder and gentler. A dark blue dress skimmed her petite curves, covered by a jacket in the same blue with a white satin collar and cuffs. Her hair was longer than when he’d seen her last, framing her face with white-blond curls. Her makeup accented big dark eyes and a kissable mouth to perfection.

“Wow.” Zach pulled his hands out of his pockets. “You look great.”

Those eyes widened, but she didn’t smile. “Thanks. Let me get my coat and we’ll go.” She crossed to a closet, and Zach welcomed the opportunity to run his gaze over her one more time.

“Uh, Shelley?”

She pulled a thick fur coat off a hanger and brought it to him. “Yes?”

“I don’t mean to be critical...”

“What? What’s wrong? You don’t like the dress?”

He quieted her with a lifted finger. “No, the dress is perfect. But are you sure those are the shoes you want?”

They both stared down at the slippers on her feet—backless pink satin with frothy pink feathers across the toes.

When Zach looked up, the horror on Shelley’s face suggested she’d seen a mouse. Or a snake.

“Hey, it’s not that serious.” He knuckled her chin higher. “Just run and change. I don’t mind waiting—I’m at your beck and call tonight. Or I can carry you to the car, if these are your choice. They look comfortable, at least.”

Shelley gave a tiny laugh and shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She left him holding the coat as she tripped up the staircase. Mink, perfectly matched, tickled his palms. That was more like the Shelley he expected. In the battle between status symbol and political correctness, status would win with her, hands down.

The house indicated status, too. Zach stared up two stories at an awesome crystal chandelier, wondering how one tiny woman could live alone in all this space and not get lost. Or really lonely.

The solemn look on Shelley’s face when she’d opened the door made him wonder about the latter. As far as he knew, she’d lived by herself in the two years since she’d given up full custody of her now-eight-year-old daughter. What kind of social life did she have, if her only escort option for a big night like tonight was a cop she’d seen maybe five or six times?

And what did it say for his social life that he’d accepted the invitation?

“Better?” She came halfway down the stairs and stopped, one foot on the step behind her. Zach took another body blow as he realized the dress wasn’t quite as conservative as he’d thought—a slit up the side gave him a long look at the excellent shape of Shelley’s leg.

Clearing his throat, he focused on her feet. “Definitely an improvement. You might even stay warm for the duration—unless the snow gets deep.”

“It’s snowing?” She ran the rest of the way down and peered out the faceted glass pane beside the door. “That’s sure going to keep people home tomorrow, just as we’re getting into the spring selling season. March is a big month.”

She came back to him, and Zach straightened out the fur, holding it as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. Her perfume drifted between them, a scent of exotic woods and lemon.

He shook his head clear. “Yeah, but it gives all the home owners another weekend to get their paint touched up, their carpets cleaned. That’ll make your job easier.”

Shelley looked up at him over her mink-cloaked shoulder, a puzzled frown around her eyes. “Are you an optimist or something?”

“Why not? Pessimism takes more energy.”

“An optimistic cop has got to be a rare character.”

“One of a kind, that’s me.” He grinned at her and finally got a real smile back. Zach wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Shelley Hightower smile before, but he decided she did it very nicely. He would have to see about getting a few more before the evening ended.

By the time dessert arrived, he could congratulate himself on reaching that goal. Shelley had smiled several times, thanks to some gentle flirting on his part, combined with the gradual consumption of reasonably good champagne.

He refilled their glasses as the dinner plates were cleared. “Allyson couldn’t get down to be here tonight? I kinda hoped to see her.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t mention this to her or Dexter—she’s got a science fair at school this weekend. She’ll be down next week.”

Zach remembered the days when Shelley’s agenda would have come before anyone else’s, even her daughter’s. Since he’d just gotten her to relax, now didn’t seem the right time to point out the change, so he switched subjects. “I had no idea Denver supported this many real estate agents.” He murmured his comment into her ear, to avoid being overheard. “Are there enough houses for sale to go around?”

When she turned her head, their faces were close. “Like any sales job, you make your own business.”

Zach returned her solemn gaze and pondered the lack of laughter there. “There’s more to life than business, Shelley.”

“Not if you want to win.”

“And you want to win?” The skin of her face was smooth and pale. Touchable.

“Would you ask that if I were a man?”

He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Acquit me of sexism. I’m not convinced the world needs any more winners of either sex. How about just being happy?”

“Happy doesn’t pay the bills.”

“Sure it does. Maybe not as many as you’d like. But you can get by without giving your life over to work.”

“That’s assuming,” Shelley said, “you have other options.” Before Zach could reply, she shifted in her seat to watch the president of the Realtors’ association begin his speech.

The awards presentation went on forever. Zach had long ago perfected an interested stare and the ability to let his mind drift while applauding at all the right moments. The bottle left on the table between his glass and Shelley’s made that task even easier.

He brought his attention back when the president held up a huge plaque. “Last but certainly not least, I’d like to present the award for top seller of the year to...Ms. Shelley Hightower!”

Beside him, Shelley took a deep breath. Zach saw a flash of...sadness? regret?...cross her face. The audience applauded with enthusiasm as she walked to the podium. Zach joined in. The lady looked great under the lights—poised and polished. Smiling, she shook hands with the president and stepped forward when he motioned her to the microphone.

“Thank you,” she said. Her clear voice carried easily over the sound system. “I’m sure all of you know that this is not something I did by myself. I want to thank the staff at my office and the agents in the company for their dedication and hard work.” She paused for a glance at the award. “And special thanks go to my daughter, Allyson, for being my biggest fan and constant cheering section. She’ll be thrilled to hear about tonight.” Serenaded by more applause, she left the spotlight.

Zach leaned toward her as she sat down. “Do you have space on your office wall for a plank that huge?”

“Definitely.” She patted the edge of the plaque. “I’ve waited more than ten years for tonight. I plan to hang this where everybody can see, if I have to build a wall to do it.”

The closing remarks also lasted forever, but at last the banquet broke up. Zach escorted Shelley to the coat-check desk, where she stowed the plaque, and then to the hotel ballroom. They reached the edge of the floor as the band started playing. Without a word, he held out his left hand. Her right palm lighted on his. He took her onto the parquet surface—she caught his rhythm immediately. Just like that, they were dancing.

“Mmm.” Zach grinned with satisfaction, swinging her through a turn. She followed like a pro. “I haven’t had anybody to dance with in a long, long time.” Not since his best friend, Claire Cavanaugh, had married Shelley’s ex and moved to Wyoming.

His partner stepped close and tucked her head just beneath his chin. “How many cops dance as well as you do?”

“Don’t know. Don’t dance with many cops.” He enjoyed her responding chuckle. “You should do that more often.”

“Improvise?”

“Laugh.” He didn’t expect an answer and moved her into another turn. When she came back, his hands automatically found their place.

Two years, he realized at that moment. He hadn’t made love to a woman for almost two years. Not since Claire’s wedding, when the realization of what he’d lost had hit him with the power of an avalanche. He’d needed someone to hold that night, and his date for the reception obliged. They went their separate ways the morning after, and he’d kept to the company of guys since. His handball game had really improved.

Tonight, he wasn’t thinking about handball. Shelley’s thigh brushed his legs, her fingers played across his shoulder. Her back arched as he drew her close for a dip and she looked up at him from under her lashes, smiling.

At the sudden rush in his blood, Zach wondered if he’d pushed the limits on his restraint a little too far.

The music slowed, ended. He forced his hands away from Shelley long enough to applaud. When the band started up again, he made himself wait and at least look at her for permission. The expectation on her face eased his mind... and raised his temperature. “You like to dance, don’t you?”

She moved into his embrace. “I grew up on Fred Astaire movies.”

“I’m no Astaire.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Zach.”

He wasn’t sure, at that moment, whether or not to believe the invitation in her eyes.

The rest of the evening convinced him.

THEY DANCED to every tune, drank champagne when the band took a break. Co-workers and competitors drifted by to offer congratulations on the award. Shelley found herself smiling at them, introducing Zach with her fingers on his arm as if he belonged to her or something. At the realization, she dropped her hand.

During the next introduction, her face heated up when he put an arm around her waist. But her stomach had settled down nicely. Somehow, she didn’t think she could credit the food.

At last the music started again and they could go back to doing what felt so right—dancing. Zach wasn’t a tall man like her ex-husband, but she was only five-two so she didn’t need tall. His steel blue eyes glinted with a smile as he engineered turns and dips and sways. While his breath warmed her ear, her temple, her cheek, his muscles responded with controlled power to every step she took.

Wise or not, Shelley couldn’t ignore the pleasure of being held in a man’s arms again, with his hands to guide her, his strength to lean on. She couldn’t resist the kick of flirting, and having somebody as good-looking as this man flirt back. Zach wore his tux as comfortably as a pair of jeans, as precisely as a European playboy. His light brown hair was sleek and tame tonight, his face more austere than she remembered. He smelled like heaven.

Under such a potent influence, any second thoughts lasted about as long as champagne bubbles. Late in the evening, Zach’s mouth brushed the skin of her temple. Desire, warm and fluid, rippled along her spine. When she looked up, his gaze asked a question. She impulsively parted her lips in invitation.

Yet his kiss took her completely by surprise. She’d never known such power, never felt so weak, as at the moment his lips moved over hers. The pleasure of being wanted tempted her to tears. Zach swept her across an entire range of emotions within seconds, and all with just the brief contact of his mouth.

He drew back the space of a breath. “Shelley.” His whisper sounded as unsteady as her pulse. “Leaving now might be a good idea.”

She didn’t have any clever words to use, didn’t intend to shatter the moment. Whatever he meant, she wanted these feelings to last as long as possible. As if he understood, they stopped in unison and turned without a word toward the nearest door out of the dim ballroom.

The bright lights in the outer hallway couldn’t break the spell. They retrieved the plaque and their coats. Zach helped Shelley into hers with a squeeze of her shoulders she knew she hadn’t imagined. As they waited for the elevator, she could barely feel the press of his palm in the small of her back, but she needed nothing more to keep her aware of his strength. He filled her consciousness to the exclusion of anything else.

In the lobby of the hotel, reality cracked over her like an icicle falling from the roof.

“Oh, wow.” Shelley stared out the glass front door at a foot of new snow. “Were we having a blizzard? I missed the news.”

Zach stood behind her. “Me, too. Doesn’t look like it’s thinking about stopping any time soon, either.”

“Maybe never.”

They watched the heavy curtain of snow in a kind of trembling suspension of time.

And then Zach bent close. “Your house is a long way out of town.”

“It is.” And dark and incredibly empty.

“Mine’s closer, but the cop in me knows better than to drive even that far after this much champagne.” His breath played across her ear.

She shivered. “Definitely a bad idea.”

“We could call a cab.”

That would give her too much time to think. “I dread going out in the cold.” Even inside her house, it would be cold. Because she’d be alone.

He took a deep breath. “We could stay the night here.”

For a thousand reasons, no would be the right answer. A wise woman learned from her mistakes.

Or did a wise woman take advantage of a once-in-a-lifetime chance? Shelley nodded and kept her eyes on the snow. “I think that sounds...perfect.”

His hands covered her shoulders again. “Back in a few minutes.”

There wasn’t much time to reconsider, even if Shelley could have managed to think amidst the fireworks of anticipation exploding in her mind. Zach returned in what seemed like seconds to sweep her and the plaque into a packed elevator—obviously, they weren’t the only ones who’d decided against travel. After an endless trip, he guided her out at the concierge floor. The rowdy crowd vanished behind sliding brass doors.

Walking down the hallway, Shelley registered impressions instead of thoughts. The dent of their footsteps on carpet the color of blue stained glass. A scent of flowers—lilies? And the quiet that only snow can bring, even to a tall, downtown building.

Then the click of a key card in the door lock.

The floor lamp between the armchairs had been switched on. A service tray waited nearby, bearing an ice bucket and champagne, glasses and a single rose in a crystal vase.

Shelley set the plaque down near the wall and turned as Zach closed the door behind them. “Someone works fast.”

“Someone,” he agreed, a smile tilting one side of his mouth. “Let me take your coat.”

He lifted the weight from her shoulders and hung the fur in the closet, along with his dark wool. When he came back, he stopped far enough away that she understood she shouldn’t feel coerced. “Champagne?”

But his eyes had changed, and in them Shelley saw the need she could feel tearing inside herself. She shook her head and closed the distance between them. “Later. Please...kiss me like that again.”

Zach held her as if they were still dancing, one hand clasping hers, the other at the curve of her waist. Their bodies barely touched. Yet the pressure of his mouth demanded. Required. Compelled.

Shelley responded with unforced pleasure. There had been no one as real as Zach in her life for a very long time. She needed his warmth, his closeness. Needed to think that she mattered, if only for tonight.

She loosened his bow tie and felt him chuckle, deep in his throat. His palms skimmed her bare arms with a delicious friction, and she realized that the jacket for the dress was gone. The studs on his shirt gave her some trouble, so he got her zipper down first. Then she stood in front of him wearing just her slip and stockings.

His blue eyes blazed as he slowly looked her over, and he whistled low and long. “Lady, as far as I’m concerned, you could have come dressed like this tonight!”

CHAPTER TWO

ZACH DIDN’T KNOW why Shelley was laughing, but he liked the sound. He liked the sight of her just within reach, wearing dark blue satin and lace. He liked the feel of her skin under his palms. And he loved the way she smelled.

But she was too far away. “Come here,” he murmured, catching her wrists to draw her close.

Her arms curved around his waist under his shirt, cool against his heat. “Better?”

“Oh, yeah.” Zach dipped his head, found her mouth and settled back into her scent and taste, letting his mind shut down in favor of other systems. He skimmed his lips over her cheek, her ear. “Definitely better than champagne. I’m drunk on you, Shelley.”

With a tilt of her head, Shelley’s mouth recaptured his. She eased his shirt off without breaking the kiss. Her hands lingered on the balls of his shoulders, then stroked the fabric down to his elbows. There she stopped.

“Gotcha,” she whispered, trapping his lower arms inside the sleeves with the cuffs still fastened.

“I’m not as talented without my hands.” Zach backed up as she put a palm against his chest and pushed. “But I’m certainly willing to give it my best shot.”

“Later,” she said again. This time she pushed with both hands. Abandoning his halfhearted protest, he fell backward onto the bed.

She came down after him, a featherweight on his chest, and took him into another kiss. Hunger flared up fast, edging him toward the limits of control. They were both panting by the time Shelley tore her mouth away.

Slipping to the side, she ran a hand through the hair on his chest. “We’ve got all night. No hurry.”

“Speak for yourself,” he muttered, straining his wrists against starched cotton, but without enough force to actually break free. “I was considering the priesthood until I saw you tonight.”

“A long time, hmm?” Her fingers traced over his skin, just above the waist of his slacks.

“You’re killing me.”

She lowered her head, nuzzled his collarbone. “Good.”

Crazy with need, Zach surrendered. If Shelley wanted the power, he’d let the lady have her way—for now, at least. Her small hands stroked and kneaded, and his breath got shallower with every touch. Her mouth scattered sparks across his skin. The woman was too dangerous to be safe. Too good to be left alone.

She eased his zipper down, and Zach thought he’d lose his dignity right then. He focused on Shelley for distraction, the way her lips pressed together as she concentrated, how her lashes fanned dark across the curve of her cheeks. White-gold hair fell around her face like angel glass, but if she was an angel, he’d bet on her being one of Lucifer’s crowd. What she was doing to him tonight could only be classified as absolutely wicked.

His socks, slacks and shorts disappeared, and her warm palms covered him. Zach groaned and closed his eyes. “I swear, Shelley, this isn’t going last if you don’t—”

He shut up and opened his eyes as she rolled on a condom.

“There are toothbrushes in the other pocket,” he pointed out between clenched teeth.

She rose above him—delicate, provocative as hell, with one blue satin strap slipping down over her shoulder. “I figured you’d be prepared.”

Zach grinned tightly. “I made Eagle Scout, once upon a time.”

She nodded. “I’m not surprised.” Then, holding his gaze, her own sultry and smiling and serious all at once, she took him inside.

Blood pulsed through his bound wrists, behind his eyes, in his belly. He wanted to slow down, get his breath, control the aching, pounding craving to get there...

But Shelley’s face mirrored his struggle, reflected the agony and the need and the yearning. Zach knew he wouldn’t last another second...and then she cried out and gripped him, with a strength that thrust them both into the heart of a shattering star.

WRAPPED IN THE HOTEL’S thick red robe, Shelley curled up in the armchair by the window and stared through the predawn darkness at a snowstorm that hadn’t slowed in the least. Bumps and clumps on the curbs hinted that an effort had been made to clear the street at some point, but another foot or so had fallen since then. Not many people would be shopping for a house today. She didn’t need to go to work.

At the thought, she turned her head toward the bed. Zach breathed deeply and stirred, but didn’t wake up. He lay on his side, bare chested and adorable, his arms still holding the space where she’d slept.

Unbelievable. She’d spent the night with Zach Harmon. Seduced by his charm, enchanted by the charisma of a man who knew just what a woman wanted, she’d stopped thinking and let her needs carry them both away.

Now...the moment for regrets. This incredible connection between them wouldn’t last. Shelley knew she didn’t have a recipe for the glue that welded relationships. No matter how wonderful the guy appeared to be—and Zach came across as damn near perfect—she couldn’t make love, or even lust, stick.

Her heart sank with the admission. Zach would be fun to keep around, at least a little while. During the two years she’d known him, they’d met maybe five or six times. She’d always thought about him afterward, in more detail and for much longer than was smart.

The result of those silly daydreams was this. This. A weekend fling, a moment out of time. He would walk out the door of this room and, no doubt, forget all about her, as he’d done after their other encounters. He’d never called her, had he? Never asked for a date?

And she would resume her own life, presenting deals and negotiating contracts, cajoling stubborn buyers and obstinate sellers. Late at night, she’d go back to an empty house, turn on the television for noise and wait for the dreams to keep her company.

“Hey.” At the word, Shelley opened her eyes and found Zach awake. “What are you doing over there?” The rumble in his voice reminded her of a drowsy lion’s purr.

Aware of his gaze, she stretched slowly. “Watching the snow.”

“Still?”

“More than two feet now.”

“Too bad.” He grinned, and the sexy message revved up her heartbeat. “We’ll just have to stay inside and play games.”

“Parcheesi?” She decided she might as well get as much of Zach as she could while he was here. The more she had, the more fuel there would be for dreams when she was alone again. “Monopoly? I’m very good at Monopoly.” Walking toward the bed, she untied her belt and let the robe drop to the floor.

“Oh, yeah? So’m I.” His gaze stroked over her as she came closer, and her skin heated everywhere he looked. “We’ll have a playoff sometime. But right now...” The sheet fell to his waist as he sat up and reached for her. Shelley sighed as their bare bodies touched. “Right now I’ve got other amusements in mind.”

“Show me,” she invited. And he did.

MUCH LATER that morning, room service delivered brunch while Shelley was still in the shower. “If you don’t hurry, I’m going to start without you,” Zach called through the door. “I’m starving!”

“I’ll be right out.” Turning off the water, Shelley wrapped up in a towel and used another one to wipe off the mirror. The woman there wasn’t wearing her usual mask, but she didn’t have the supplies to recreate the image. No makeup, except powder and lipstick, no rollers and mousse and spray, no jewelry. No clothes, except the blue dress. And the robe.

She dried her hair and combed it as best she could, donned the robe and then gazed at her naked face. How could she go out there like this? What would he think?

This time, Zach knocked on the door. “Shelley, come on. Your eggs will be cold.”

“Okay, okay!” Maybe he’d be too busy eating to notice her. She took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

Zach waited for her outside, wearing an identical robe. He curled his fingers into her hair. “You look great.” His kiss was sweet and soft and so gentle she wanted to cry. When she opened her eyes, he grinned. “Now,” he said, “let’s eat.”

They sat beside the window, watching the storm. “I called my mom, just to check on her.” Zach crunched his bacon. “She’s fine. The TV’s saying this is the worst spring blizzard in twenty years.”

She suddenly remembered what he did for a living. “Do you get called into work on days like this?” Would the end come so soon?

“Sometimes. I checked in there, too. So far, the power’s stayed on and the situation’s under control. I left the station this number if they need me.”

So she could keep him for a while. Shelley relaxed a bit. “I’ll bet the ski slopes stay open until the end of April, now, even into May.”

“We can hope. I’ll have to see about taking my sisters up for a weekend.”

A chance piece of information she’d overheard long ago came to mind. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Eleven of us, plus two parents. We never went anywhere all together because there wasn’t enough room in the car.” He winked at her over the breakfast dishes. “Lucky thing church was within walking distance.”

His grin drove good sense out of her head. With his hair mussed and his blue eyes bright and the red robe setting off his tan skin, he looked like a magazine centerfold. His bare legs had somehow tangled with hers under the table, so even getting a decent breath took concentration.

Shelley struggled back to sanity. “That must be why you have such magic with kids. Allyson is always talking ‘Uncle Zach.’”

“Your daughter is a special case. I manage to see her whenever Dex and Claire bring her to town—we always have a good time.” He toasted Allyson with his coffee cup. “She reminds me of my 14-year-old baby sister, Carol. Both of them are bright, impulsive, a little hard to control.”

The description certainly fit Allyson. “Your parents have trouble with Carol?”

Zach’s smile faded. “My dad died of lung cancer four years ago. That’s when I left the army.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He nodded. “No reason you should. Carol took it really hard, and she’s been tough to reach ever since. I get called in whenever there’s a problem—she listens to me more than anybody else. But that’s not saying much.”

“A big family must be fun. I didn’t have brothers and sisters.”

“There were plenty of times I wished I could be an only child.” After thinking a second, he shrugged. “Still are, for that matter. These days, at least, I can go home and get away. You couldn’t pay me enough now to give up my privacy.”

“You don’t want kids of your own?” That surprised her. She’d never seen more perfect dad material.

“You’ll have noticed I make pretty damn sure that’s not going to happen.” He flashed that sexy grin. “Families mean complications, and I’ve already got enough of those—along with plenty of brothers and sisters to carry on the family genes. I figure I’ll be known as eccentric Uncle Zach, who spent his life standing the line between right and wrong but wasted his free time on wild, wicked women.”

He shoved the table out of the way, drew her into his lap and loosened the belt on her robe. “Like you, lady,” he whispered roughly against her skin.

Shelley gripped his shoulders, shuddering as his tongue traced the arch of her throat. “I admire a man with a long-range plan,” she managed to reply before his wandering hands made words impossible.

THEY GOT new towels, shooed the housekeeper away and watched movies late into Saturday night. Zach picked the first one, a big budget historical he’d missed in theaters. Shelley’s choice was romantic comedy.

“Aha,” he crowed as the credits rolled. “You’re a closet romantic. The pragmatic and successful Ms. Hightower enjoys love stories. I bet you read them, too.”

She sat up, pointed the remote and clicked off the TV. “Who has time to read?” But her cheeks reddened.

“I like historical romance myself,” he said casually. “I’m into history.”

“You read romance novels? You’re kidding, right?”

Zach grinned at her skepticism. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“But—”

He stretched out on his side and propped his head on his hand. “Good stories, good research, an interesting relationship. Is that strictly female territory?”

“Maybe not.” Her gaze sharpened. “But you’re not planning ‘happily-ever-after’ for yourself?”

The lady had a way of getting to the heart of things. He turned the tables to make his escape. “Are you?”

She fell back against the pillows and put her arms over her eyes. “Not likely. I have lousy judgment when it comes to men.”

Zach decided to assume present company was excepted. “Hightower is a good guy.” He’d better be, since he was now married to Claire.

Lowering her arms again, Shelley sighed. “Dexter and I were terrible for each other. If Allyson hadn’t come along, we wouldn’t have stayed together at all.”

“You can’t count her as a mistake.”

“Oh, no. She’s the best thing I ever did.” The smile she’d started faded away. “I know she’s doing great in Wyoming, but I really miss having her with me.”

Zach put his free hand on her arm, stroked the soft skin on the inside of her elbow with his thumb. “Dex and Claire would probably bring her down even more often, if you asked.”

“My life’s so crazy, so...relentless.” She shrugged. “And Allyson’s happy on the ranch, or at their second home in Cheyenne. I’d feel bad to tear her away from her friends and life there.”

“That still doesn’t mean you have to be alone all the time.”

Her dark gaze hardened and she pulled her arm away. “So which wonderful candidate should I choose? The guy who steals my credit cards? Or the one who hits and threatens me and, incidentally, cost me custody of my daughter?”

“Shelley, those aren’t the only men who’d go out with you.” What the hell did she think he was doing here? Maybe she did put him in the same class with those jerks.

She wrenched away to the edge of the bed with what sounded like a snarl, found her robe and pulled it around her. Yanking the belt tight, she stalked to the window—a delicate, determined silhouette against the black sky outside. Zach waited out the tension.

Eventually, her shoulders drooped.

“Some women are just not cut out for happily-ever-after.” She rested her forehead against the glass. “My mom made a choice once, and he dumped us both when I was three months old.”

“That classifies him a bastard, but it doesn’t say anything about your mom, or you.”

“Yes, it does!” Her head came up and she turned, dark eyes glittering. “My mom built a life for us all by herself. The rest of her family helped out, but Mom worked two jobs and went to secretarial school, then spent twenty years taking orders from men with half her brains so that I could have clothes and a car and...and skiing. And a decent career.”

“I didn’t say—”

She lifted a hand. “I know. But she managed her life without a man, and did a damn good job. Now I’m doing the same. I mean it—some of us are better off alone.”

Zach pondered for a minute. Was that an invitation to exit? He was surprised by how much the prospect bothered him. Still, when a lady said no... “Well then, maybe I should leave.”

He rolled to the near side of the bed and sat up, feeling around on the floor for his robe. Just as he found it, Shelley’s scent reached him. Her small hands slid over his ribs and her soft breasts, bare and aroused, pressed against his back. His breath left him in a rush.

“You don’t want to go out in the middle of a cold, snowy night,” she whispered over his ear. “Do you?”

He chuckled. “I think the answer to that is pretty obvious.”

“So, don’t.” She laid kisses across his shoulder while her hands—her warm, clever hands—roamed south. “I don’t want you going anywhere right now.”

“That’s good,” Zach sighed, relaxing under her caress. “That’s really, really good.”

SUNDAY MORNING, the snow had stopped and the plows were out in droves. While Shelley called Allyson in Wyoming, Zach made a visit to the hotel shops and came back with clothes for them both. They ate lunch downstairs in the dining room.

“I’ll bet Allyson’s loving this snow.” He poured coffee into Shelley’s cup and then his own. “I went up last winter to visit Claire, and they had snow-maidens all over the lawn in Cheyenne.”

Shelley stirred in cream and artificial sweetener. “She could barely talk this morning for all the excitement. We E-mail several times a week—I’ve probably got hourly updates waiting in my mailbox.” Her smile was part sigh. “I can’t deny she’s happy where she is. Claire and Dex are doing a great job.”

She didn’t look exactly happy, but she wasn’t bitter, either—she’d come a long way in two years. “Sounds like you’ve accepted the situation. That’s a big step.”

Her calculating gaze pinned him to the wall. “And you haven’t.”

Zach retreated behind his own coffee. “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“At least I didn’t love Dex anymore. But you were still in love with Claire when they got married. Weren’t you?”

He stared into his cup for a speechless second. “I—”

“She’s an unforgettable woman. I don’t blame you for wanting her back.”

“Shelley—” Denial would be good, if he could get his mouth around the words. But he wasn’t used to lying.

“I realize I’m a substitute.” He glanced up to find her watching him with a calm, impersonal stare. “But that’s okay. This is just for kicks, right?”

Zach waited for the red haze to clear out of his vision before trusting his voice. “Are you finished?”

“With my lunch?”

“And your ridiculous...”

“It’s not—”

He got to his feet. “Coming back to the room?” No was on the tip of her tongue, he could see it. But she stood as well, and put her napkin on the table. “Why not?”

Upstairs, they faced each other across the newly made bed. Zach didn’t let the lady go first this time. “Have you decided this one’s over, too, Shelley? Time to move on?”

“I thought I’d say it before you had to.”

“Nice of you. What if I had other plans?”

“Do you?”

“Hell, I don’t know!” He shoved his hands into his pockets. His mother would kill him if she heard him swear in front of a woman. But then, his mother would kill him for almost everything he’d done since 7:00 p.m. Friday night.

And why was he thinking about his mother? “I thought we were enjoying the moment and each other, Shelley. I wasn’t making plans.”

She turned to look out the window at the cleared streets. “We were. But we both know this isn’t going anywhere. I just wanted to let you off the hook.”

“Gee, thanks.” He couldn’t think, couldn’t see how to turn the situation. She might relent if he touched her, but he would still be irritated, which wasn’t a good prelude to sex or anything else.

“So,” she said, in that same calm, impersonal tone. “I think I might be going, now that the streets are passable.”

Now he had her. “You came in my car.”

She stared at him, her eyes wide with panic. “I can get a cab.”

Another point for his side. “Good luck finding a driver who’ll take on a snow-covered interstate.”

She knew the truth when she heard it. “Great. Just great.” Her disappointment was so real, Zach almost laughed.

“So you can’t get away from me yet. Come sit down.” He pointed her to the chair on the other side of the table. She gazed at him with a question in her eyes and he repeated the motion. “Yes, sit down.”

He opened the dresser drawer and found a notepad and pen. Desperate situations called for desperate measures. “Did you ever play Battleship?”

THEY SHARED the pen through four games, when the ink ran dry. Zach called down to room service for a bottle of champagne, cheese and crackers, and a box of pens. The war escalated as the room darkened until they could hardly see their marks on the paper. Shelley finally stood up to turn on a lamp.

“That makes us even.” She looked across at Zach, sprawled in a chair with his head back and a half-full glass of champagne dangling from his hand over the arm of the chair. “Twenty games each.”

“We need a tiebreaker.”

“World War Three?”

“Or something like that.” His voice had gone back to the leonine purr she’d followed for two days now.

Her pulse jumped, but she fought to stay sane. “Zach, that’s not a good idea.”

“Why?”

Because I’m already in too deep, she wanted to say. “Let’s...let each other go easily.”

“Okay.”

Shelley took a deep breath of relief.

He stood up. “Tomorrow morning.”

The breath blew out in exasperation. “Zach—”

But he was already kissing her. He warmed her lips with his breath, filled her mouth with his taste, and she had no hope of anything except holding on and enjoying the ride. With Zach, she knew that’s all she could count on. The ride of her life.

MONDAY MORNING, the weather thawed. Shelley froze.

Zach didn’t attempt to break the ice. The next move, glacial or otherwise, would have to be hers. “Here’s my number.” He handed her a piece of paper. “Call me. I always return my messages.”

Now that she’d summoned a cab, she wouldn’t even look at him. “Sure.” She gathered up her clothes and lingerie and folded each item carefully into a shopping bag. “You can reach me anytime at the office. I have call forwarding.”

“Okay.”

He watched as she put her blue dress shoes on top of the clothes and folded the handles of the bag together. When she looked over, her eyes were wide and bright. Was she trying not to cry?

She succeeded. “Thanks, Zach, for...for everything. I’m not being very graceful, but this was a wonderful weekend.”

“For me, too. Kiss me goodbye?”

“Of course.” She meant to give him a buss on the cheek and run off. But Zach turned as she reached him, slipped his arms around her and gathered her close. Her body pressed into his and their mouths touched.

When Shelley pushed at his arms, he forced himself to release her. “Bye,” she whispered. Without another glance, she hurried out the door.

“Bye, lady,” Zach murmured after her. Alone again, he looked around the room, at a loss...and caught sight of the giant plaque. He grabbed it and shot out the door. “Shelley? Shelley!”

She stopped in the process of getting on the elevator and looked his way. “Oh.” Pulling her foot back, she let the doors close. “I—I forgot.” Her hand came up to grasp the award.

Zach let go, reluctantly. “Are you sure you can manage? I could carry it down for you.”

“No!” She glanced into his face and quickly away. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

He relinquished the plaque. “Well, then. Goodbye.” Retreating toward the room, he lifted a hand. “See you.”

Shelley pressed the down button and sent him another cool smile. “Sure.” Then she turned her back on him, which left her facing a wall. But the message came through loud and clear.

With a sigh, Zach returned to the room and waited a meticulous thirty minutes to give her time to get away. Then he picked up his wrinkled tux and headed for home.

CHAPTER THREE

THREE MONTHS LATER, Shelley stared across a tidy desk at the woman facing her. “What did you say?”

Dr. Deb Bryant didn’t blink. “I said your pregnancy test is positive. You’re going to have a baby.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Does that mean you’re considering an abortion?”

“No!” The idea made her sick. But then, she’d been sick a lot lately—that’s why she’d come to the doctor. “How could this have happened?”

“The usual way, I imagine. What were you doing around the first week in March?”

“Working myself to death as...oh.” All except for one weekend. That weekend. The awards banquet. The blizzard. Zach.

She took a deep breath. “But I... we... used protection. Every time.” Not that she could remember how many times they’d made love between Friday night and Monday morning.

“All methods have a failure rate. Now, what do you plan to do?”

Staring at the doctor across the desk, Shelley tried to think and failed. She could only give a gut reaction. “Have a baby, I guess.”

“Then we should choose an obstetrician. Since you’re close to thirty-five, I’d like to recommend a specialist in high-risk pregnancies, just to be on the safe side. We need to get you on iron tablets and vitamins, improve your diet...”

Shelley walked out to her car half an hour later, shaken to the very roots of her soul.

A baby. Zach Harmon’s child.

She went so far as to pick up the car phone, punching out the number she’d memorized twelve weeks ago. But with her finger on “send” she stopped, then ended the call.

They hadn’t seen each other since that Monday morning when she’d rushed off to work, promising to get in touch. She’d never worked up the nerve to call him. Zach hadn’t made contact, either...hadn’t wanted to, she assumed.

Was she going to phone him now and start a chorus of “Hello, Daddy?”

With a moan, Shelley put her head back and blinked away tears. Whatever memories of that weekend remained a blur, Zach’s comments on family had been clear. He emphatically did not want children.

“Oh, baby.” She put a hand low on her stomach. “What in the world am I going to do about you?”

That question became even more crucial when the phone rang about nine that night. Caught in the middle of cleaning out her refrigerator, Shelley answered the phone with some impatience. “Hello?”

“A little tense, aren’t we?”

“Zach?” She held the phone in front of her and stared at it, half hoping she’d conjured his voice out of her imagination. Putting down a bottle of salad dressing, she brought the phone back to her ear. “Zach, is that you?”

“In the fiber optically transmitted flesh. How are you?”

She choked back a hysterical laugh. “Fine, just fine. How are...things?” Why was he calling? He couldn’t possibly know about the baby. She’d just found out. Right?

“Great. But I woke up this morning and realized that June had arrived and I hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d see if you were free for dinner.”

“Tonight?” She couldn’t possibly face him tonight.

“Actually, I’m on duty in a couple of hours. I was thinking about the weekend, if that works for you.”

“Um...” How was she supposed to think? What should she say? Could she sit through a meal with him and not blurt out the truth? “I don’t know...”

“Okay.” His voice took on a cooler tint. “I probably caught you at a bad time. Maybe later—”

“No, Zach, wait.” Shelley drew a deep breath. “How about Saturday? I’ve got appointments all week, and I was saving Saturday night for a break.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll pick you up about seven-thirty. Wear the pink slippers, if you want. They were cute.”

He disconnected before she could think of a clever retort.

SATURDAY MORNING, the Crushers baseball team went into the final inning ahead of Zach’s Falcons, six-two. But the Falcons loaded the bases. With one more good hit, they could win.

Zach squatted beside his star batter as she waited on deck. “Okay, Cinda. AU you gotta do is relax and keep your eye on the ball. Cool?”

“Cool, Coach.” The beads on the ten-year-old’s many braids clicked as Cinda nodded her head. “I’m ready.”

“Go for it.” He stood up and backed into the dugout, just as Tim Johnson swung for his third strike. “Good job, Tim! Way to swing!” Zach ruffled the boy’s hair as he dropped onto the bench to pout. “Can’t hit a homer every time.”

“Cinda does.”

“Just seems like it, Tim.” The pitcher stretched and threw. Cinda swung and missed. “See?” But with the bases loaded, he really wouldn’t mind if this were one of the times she hit big.

Another pitch and another strike for Cinda brought the Falcons one swing away from a loss—or a win.

Beside him in the dugout, the Falcons had set up a cheering squad. Zach joined them. “Good try, Cinda. Keep swinging!”

He heard the crack of the bat before he saw the hit. The ball sailed in a beautiful arc over the pitcher’s head, beyond the second baseman. Cinda galloped toward first, rounded and touched the base, headed for second. Their runner on third crossed home.

The center fielder ran backward, glove high. Cinda’s tremendous hit began a downward curve.

Zach held his breath. The Falcons grew silent, the crowd waited in suspended animation, while the ball fell and the fielder backed up.

With the definitive smack of leather against leather, ball hit glove. The fielder juggled a second, brought his other hand in for help and held up the captured prize. Not a home run—a fly ball, making the third and final out.

The Falcon bench groaned. Zach let out his breath. “Okay, guys, line up for handshakes.” He glanced at one of the more disappointed players. “When you throw that glove in the dirt, Joey, you’re the one who has to clean it.”

Cinda ran in from third with tears in her eyes. “Great hit,” Zach said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Too bad he didn’t step in any of the holes I dug out there before the game.”

She smiled tremulously. “You’re such a goof, Coach.” Then she ran to take her place in line to congratulate the other team.

“Tough break,” said a voice behind him. He swung around to see Jimmy Falcon, their team sponsor, standing behind the fence.

Jimmy had been Zach’s first partner on the police force. Three years ago, they’d been caught in the middle of a gang fight that had left Jimmy with a shattered leg and a stalled career. “We appreciate your support, though. Those shirts are great.”

“Hey, these games get me out of bed on Saturday morning. What’s the record now?”

Zach picked up bats and helmets. “We’re three and four. This was the team to beat from last year. I’m hoping for an easy win next week against the Terminators.”

They talked baseball on the walk to Zach’s Trans Am to load equipment into the trunk. Parents stopped to shake a hand and commiserate. Cinda ran by, waving.

“See you at practice Monday,” Zach called.

“Right, Coach!”

“So what’s the rest of the your weekend like?” Jimmy leaned against the side of the car. “I’ve got a hot new group at the club tonight. I’m betting they’ll be a name before the year’s out.”

Jimmy’s jazz and blues club, Indigo, was well known in Denver music circles. “I might just show up.” Zach used the tail of his sweatshirt to wipe a bug splat off the trunk’s glossy black finish. “I’ve got a dinner date first.”

“Bring her along.”

“Maybe.” He knew a lot about what Shelley liked... in bed. But what kind of music did she listen to? “I’ll ask the lady.”

“I’ll save you a table. You missed one.” Jimmy grinned and pointed to an even bigger bug blotch on the hood.

“Thanks, pal. Don’t do me any favors.”

An afternoon spent washing the car didn’t provide much mental distraction. Zach waxed and buffed and thought about the woman he’d see tonight. The woman he hadn’t seen in three months, because...?

Working the night shift made dating in the evenings a real challenge.

Still, even cops got time off.

His basketball league took up a lot of spring nights.

But not all of them.

Coaching the Falcons kept him occupied in the late afternoon on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, with Saturday-morning games.

So what about the rest of the week?

No answers. “Okay,” he muttered, crouching down to clean a hubcap. “Why did I call her now?”

After that incredible weekend with Shelley, he’d waited an agonizing month to hear from her, and managed to survive sixty restless days after that. He’d kept the memories at bay, most of the time, and tried to take a stoical view of the situation. If they happened to run into each other, he’d figured, he’d be able to tell whether he should see her again. If not, well, they didn’t move in the same circles, really. And they’d already gone too far to be “just friends.”

So why be surprised when she didn’t call? She’d probably dropped his number in the first trash can she came to. The lady wasn’t interested. Pure and simple.

Zach gave the rear fender a final swipe and stepped back. The car looked good. He, on the other hand, smelled like a car wash. Time to hit the shower.

A few minutes later, facing himself in the mirror as he shaved, he asked the question again. “So why call her now?”

The answer shamed him. Wanting to forget one woman was absolutely the worst excuse for seeing another. But he couldn’t deny the truth.

Claire Hightower had called. She wanted Zach to know she was pregnant.

The news hit him like a truck without brakes on a steep mountain downgrade. He’d never imagined Claire pregnant. Dance partner, debate opponent, movie critic and dinner companion, sure. Dynamite lawyer and advocate for women’s and children’s rights, of course. She made a great stepmother for Allyson Hightower.

But pregnant?

Yes. He had heard the contentment in her voice. Loving and living with Dex Hightower made Claire happy. She’d confided that carrying Dex’s baby was the best achievement of her life. Zach sincerely wished her well, even as he wondered why the news shook him up so much.

The reason wasn’t buried too deep. Shelley’s accusations came damn close—Zach had loved Claire, easily and lightly, because she wanted it that way. He’d had hopes of getting her to change her mind, until Dex Hightower showed up in their lives. And now Claire was married and happy and Zach was...

Free, as usual. Alone, a state he’d looked forward to for eighteen years at home, four years at college, and ten more in the army. Just what the hell was wrong with his life, anyway? What more did he want?

Those questions buzzed at him for a couple of days after Claire’s call, breaking up his sleep, interfering with his work and play. He needed a distraction and thought about Shelley. She made him laugh, she made him ache, she made him crazy. What better way to spend an evening?

His first glimpse of her at the door that Saturday night brought his brain functions to a screeching halt. Zach gave a long, low whistle. “You’re gonna stop traffic, lady.”

She wore a sunny yellow dress, long and straight, with tiny straps and a big splash of red over one hip. Her skin glowed with a light tan, her hair was a little shorter than he remembered, her nails and sandals matched the splotch on the dress. For a diversion, he couldn’t have picked better—she might well be the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.

She smiled. “Good thing I’ll have a cop with me, isn’t it? Want to come in for a drink?”

“Sure.” He followed her inside and waited close by while she shut the door. Then, he put his palms on her shoulders and kissed her hello.

The intense jolt of desire took him by surprise. Her taste and her scent were familiar, the feel of her mouth against his welcome and right. Her small sigh, as he shifted his head to deepen the kiss, was a sound out of his dreams.

Before he was ready, Shelley drew back. Her gaze was soft, vulnerable, as she stared at him while they both recovered their breath.

But in the next second he lost her. Her face changed, almost hardened. She stepped away from him. Not even her fingertips lingered. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Disappointment flooded him, but he managed a casual nod: “Beer?”

“You’ve got it. Come to the kitchen. What have you been doing lately?”

From another woman, the comment might have demanded an explanation of his absence. But either Shelley was a damn good actress, or she didn’t care—her face showed nothing but mild interest as she brought him a bottle and a chilled mug.

He sat at the breakfast bar, fighting down his injured masculine pride. “Keeping Denver safe for women and children, mostly. I played department intramural basketball this spring and now I’m coaching Little League. How about you?”

She took the chair next to his. “Work, of course. My spring house sales are just starting to close.” She sipped from a glass of bottled water. “Getting some of these buyers and sellers to the table takes real effort.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve had to break up closings that got violent.”

“You don’t have to tell me. One of my clients tried to walk out recently, because the buyer wanted to change the terms of the contract. The buyer jumped up to stop him, and the next thing I know, they’re crashing though the glass window of the conference room, rolling all over the floor, making ugly noises and swearing a blue streak. We managed to stop them without the cops, though.”

“Takes skill, ending fights. You could get yourself hurt.”

“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?”

“I’m good. And guess what, Mommy? We have new kittens!”

“How many? What colors?” She didn’t care what they talked about, as long as they kept in touch. Allyson updated details on her horse, Stormy, and his training progress, relayed every minute of the camping trip she’d taken with her dad and explained how her best friend from Cheyenne would be coming to visit for two whole weeks.

“And guess what else?” Her young voice reached its highest pitch. “We’re going to have a baby!”

Shelley dropped the phone. How could she know?

When her cold hand had fumbled the phone back to her ear, she apologized and cleared her throat. “What did you say, Allyson, honey?”

“Claire’s going to have a baby!”

“Oh. How—how wonderful.” Shelley closed her eyes as the room around her dipped and swayed. “You and your dad must be excited.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to make a nursery here on the ranch and I’ll get to teach her to ride and everything.”

Despite the sick feeling in her stomach, Shelley had to smile. “You’re sure the baby’s a girl?”

“Well...” She sounded as if she’d never considered the alternative. “I hope so. A boy wouldn’t be as much fun.”

They talked a while longer, making some plans for the summer. “Grandmom’s going to be there, isn’t she?” Allyson asked.

“She wouldn’t miss seeing you for the world. When she comes over this morning, I’ll tell her what we’re planning.”

“Can we make ice cream like we did before?”

Pulled out of the doldrums, Shelley laughed. “I know we can. You like Grandmom’s ice cream, don’t you?”

“It’s good!” As they ended the conversation, Allyson said, “Daddy wants to say something, Mommy. I love you. Bye!”

“Bye, baby.” She took a deep breath in preparation. Talking with her ex usually tied her in knots.

“Hi, Shelley.” His voice had picked up the hint of a cowboy drawl during his years on the Wyoming range. “How are you?”

“Just fine, Dexter. I hear you have good news.”

“Yeah.” The pride in his voice reminded her of nine years ago, when she’d been carrying Allyson. “We’re pretty happy.”

“Congratulations.” The perfect woman had accomplished the perfect task, perfectly. Unlike a certain unwed mother...

Dex didn’t need to know that, at least, not yet. She wasn’t ready to deal with his reaction. “Are we still on schedule for Allyson to come down in mid-July and spend the rest of the summer?”

“That’s the plan. I’ll call you when we leave, so you’ll know what time to expect us.”

“I’ll wait to hear from you, Dexter. Give... Claire...my compliments.”

“I will.” He paused, and then said. “Are you sure you’re doing all right?”

“Of course.” Except for making an absolute mess of her life. “I’ll let you go. Kiss Allyson for me.”

“Sure. Goodbye, Shelley.”

She pushed the button to disconnect without a reply. Then she buried her head in her arms on the kitchen counter and cried.

Minutes later, her mother came through the garage door into the kitchen. “Honey?” Gentle arms circled Shelley’s shoulders from behind, drawing her into a soft embrace. A cool hand brushed back her hair. “Shelley, what’s wrong?”

After a struggle, she managed to get the sobbing down to hiccups. “I—I just talked to Allyson.”

Dorothy Owens was passionate about two things in life—her independence and her family. She tightened her hold. “Allyson’s okay? She hasn’t gotten hurt?”

“No. Oh, no.” Shelley broke free, slid off the chair and went to get a paper towel to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. “No, everything is wonderful in Wyoming. Claire is pregnant.”

Her mother’s brown eyes widened. “I see. That’s...”

“Yes, isn’t it?” She took a shaking breath. “But here’s the really funny part, Mom—I am, too.”

“You are what?”

“Pregnant”

This pause lasted even longer, while surprise changed into shock. “I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

“I wasn’t. I’m not.” New tears spilled over, and she grabbed another paper towel. “He isn’t interested.”

“He must have been—” Dorothy took a deep breath and brushed the feathery silver bangs off her forehead. “Never mind that. You and I seem to have a talent for picking the wrong man.”

“At least you were only stupid once. I make the same mistakes over and over again.”

Her mother filled the teakettle and put it on the cook-top. “Have you seen a doctor?”

Shelley nodded.

“And what happens when the baby is born?”

Still sniffling, Shelley left the kitchen for her light-washed family room. The windows looked east toward the plains and the morning sun. “When the baby is born, I bring her or him home. With me.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Oh, yes.” She turned to face her mother. “That’s one thing I am sure of. I want to be this baby’s mom. I want to take the time to raise this little person like I never did with Allyson. I missed so much, going back to work, leaving her with au pairs and nannies. This time, I’m going to be the person who hears that first word, sees that first step.”

Even from the kitchen, she could hear the maternal sigh. “Single parenting is tough. But you have the money to be comfortable, at least.”

“That’s right. I don’t have to depend on anyone else for help. I can do this all by myself. In fact, I think I’ll like it that way.” She wouldn’t lose control of her life—and her child—to a man this time.

Dorothy brought in a mug of tea. “So you’ve told the father and he wouldn’t take responsibility?”

“Um, no.” Shelley fiddled with the string on the blinds. “I—I haven’t told him.”

“Then how do you know—”

She let the string swing free. “Because we talked. Because he made things clear—no ties, no commitment, no family. And because I know he’d try to change if he knew, and then we’d all be unhappy. It’ll be better this way.”

The line between her mother’s eyebrows conveyed doubt. “I don’t think you’re being fair. He’s bound to find out, isn’t he?”

“Not if I don’t see him again.” She’d figure out later how to avoid Zach forever.

“But what if you bump into him?”

“I’ll tell him the baby is someone else’s.” An expression of horror crept over her mother’s face. Shelley put up a hand. “I know, that’s terrible to do. I’ve been through one custody battle, though, and I can’t do it again. I can’t take the risk that he’ll drag me into court. I want this baby—he doesn’t.” She spread her fingers across her stomach. “And I’m going to keep it.”

“But, Shelley...what are you going to tell your daughter?”

“Good question.” She sighed, and the tears returned. “Sometime between now and July I’ll have to figure that out.”

HE SHOULD HAVE DECIDED what he was going to say before he arrived.

Zach dropped onto the couch in the family room of his mom’s house. His sister sat at the opposite end, staring off into space.

“Hey,” he said.

Carol didn’t move, not even to brush the green-tinted bangs out of her eyes. She had his mother’s straight, dark hair, their dad’s small frame and height. The current lopsided cut and streaks of rebellious color didn’t disguise her essential prettiness.

He tried again. “I hear there’s been some trouble.”

This time, she rolled her eyes.

“Stealing is a crime, you know.”

She muttered a rude word. “I was gonna take it back. Nobody would keep such dumb stuff, anyway.”

“Why’d you steal in the first place?”

“I wanted to.” Her shrug dismissed the issue.

He’d talked to his mother and gotten a few more details. “What’s this club you’re into at school?”

“Just some friends.” Carol shrugged.

“Girls? Guys? Both?”

“Girls.”

“Name?”

She sighed. “Crooked Women.”

“And that means...?”

“We look at life differently from the rest of you.”

“And from this different perspective, taking property that doesn’t belong to you is okay?”

“It was an initiation stunt, that’s all!”

“Have you known these other girls a long time?”

“Some of them. Jen just moved into the school this year. She started CW.”

“What about your best friend...Samantha, right? Is she in this group?”

She stared at him as if he spoke in Martian. “Sam moved away. To Florida. Before last Thanksgiving. Remember?”

Strikeout. He sat forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “So, you have more initiation stuff planned?”

Carol shrugged, but she picked nervously at the black polish on her fingernails, which gave him his answer.

“What are the goals of this Crooked crew?”

“Nothing. We just hang together, that’s all. It’s no big deal.”

“I disagree, little sister. You’re letting somebody else’s screwed-up ideas ruin your life. Not to mention your mother’s, and mine. That makes it a big deal.”

Silence claimed the room. Sounds of the traditional Harmon Sunday ball game drifted in through the open window. Zach would have preferred to be out there pitching balls, instead of in here pitching discipline.

Carol brought him back to the moment. “So what am I supposed to do? Apologize?”

Zach shook his head. “We tried that last time, after the water balloons out the third-floor windows—didn’t seem to make an impression. I’m assigning my own version of community service.”

She looked at him in outrage. “What does that mean?”

“You’re coming to ball practice with me to work with my batters. I’ve got some baby-sitting ideas, too. See you here tomorrow at five.” Case closed. He stood and started for the door.

“And what if I’m somewhere else?”

He stopped with his hand on the knob and glanced over his shoulder. “You won’t be. Otherwise, I can arrange for you to try out juvenile hall for a day or two. See how you like the alternative.”

As the daughter and sister of cops, Carol would know she didn’t want detention. He heard her tortured sigh as he shut the door, but she’d be here tomorrow. Zach knew he could trust her that far.

His mother caught up with him in the kitchen as he took an apple out of the refrigerator. “Have you settled that girl, Zachary?” She’d been to the basement for a pan full of potatoes. Her face was flushed from climbing the steep stairs.

“Yes, Mom.” Like he’d been settling things since he was twelve years old. “I’m gonna bring her to baseball practice, see if I can get more information out on this club nonsense.”

“Good. I hardly know what to do with her anymore.” She set to washing the potatoes. “We’re having pot roast for dinner. You’ll stay, won’t you?”

His parents had eaten pot roast for dinner on Sunday every week for the forty years of their marriage. Now that his dad wasn’t here to demand the same meal, maybe they could change the ritual. “How about we go out to dinner, instead? I’ll take you to a decent Italian place I know.”

Mary Harmon shook her head. “That is nice, Zachary, but Sunday is pot roast. Maybe another time?”

“Sure, Mom.” He thought about staying, because he loved her. But he couldn’t face pot roast. “I’m gonna catch up on paperwork before I go on duty, so I’ll eat later. See you tomorrow.” He gave her a kiss and a hug, then made his escape out the back door.

The ball game had ended. Most of the players sprawled in the backyard shade, drinking sodas and arguing points.

“That pitch was wide by a mile!” Grant—the tallest of the Harmon clan—took a swallow of beer. “Never thought a brother of mine would be so blind.”

“Not blind. Accurate.” Stefan lay on the grass, a sweating can against his forehead. “That pitch was a strike.”

“Yeah, right. And Jess didn’t drop the ball on the last out, either.”

“I wouldn’t have dropped it,” Jessica said calmly, “if Michael hadn’t knocked into me. Of all the dumb moves—”

Michael sat up. “If you had called the ball, I wouldn’t have been there!”

Zach stood listening for a minute as the noise escalated. He’d been part of this scene his whole life—Sunday-morning Mass, lunch, sports and fights all afternoon, pot roast for dinner. But tonight the circle felt too tight.

“See you guys later,” he called. “I’ve got work to do.”

“See ya’!” “Be careful out there.” “Call me!” The goodbyes followed him out to the Trans Am. Zach got into the car, punched up a jazz CD and increased the volume. He waved to all the neighbors as he drove down the street, but kept his windows up and didn’t stop to talk.

He resolutely didn’t think about spending the afternoon with Shelley, either. The case had closed on that situation, too.

AT THE PRECINCT station, he changed into his uniform and headed out on patrol. Life as a street coop wasn’t as exciting as, say, vice or criminal investigations. but Zach figured there were people out here with problems—traffic accidents, temporarily misplaced kids, vandalism and harassment—who needed a cop’s help. He liked providing that kind of assistance.

As he circled the park, a young couple playing on the swings caught his attention, just because they looked so happy together. With his window down, he could hear them laughing. They would make a great advertisement—“Denver is for lovers.”

An hour later, he saw them again, this time on the street near some of the bars. Good times had given way to an argument. The young woman stood, arms crossed, back toward her boyfriend, with her chin tilted in defiance as he yelled at her from behind. Before Zach turned the corner, the guy threw his hands in the air and stalked into the nearest joint. The lady appeared not to care.

Zach circled the block and came back to the scene in less than ten minutes. There was no sign of the couple. Following his instinct, he parked on the opposite side of the street, crossed over to the dive he’d seen the man enter, and found himself in a cave filed with smoke and the fumes of beer.

“We don’t need the cops,” the bartender said, without preamble. “Ain’t no trouble here.”

“I can see that, Joey. I’m just checking things out.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I thought there might have been an argument in here, the last hour or so. A cute lady, giving her man a hard time?”

“Do I keep track of the whole frigging world?”

Zach stared, and the bartender gave in. “Yeah, they were here.”

“Did they buy drinks?”

“They came in a couple times. The guy bought maybe five beers all together. Drank ’em down like water. And then they left and I ain’t seen them since. Happy?”

“Delirious. Have a good night.” Zach returned to the almost empty street. Which way would she have gone to make her point?

He turned right and started walking, quietly. No one passed him, and the twilight came down without a sound. He’d almost decided to turn back when he heard a small, agonized sob.

She was huddled in the next alley, between upended garbage cans and plastic bags stuffed with trash. Zach crouched down in front of her. “Officer Harmon, Denver police, ma’am. Let me help you.”

But she flinched and shrank back, putting a hand out to ward him off. “No,” she whispered. “No more, please. No...”

Zach took her hand, seeing broken nails and a bruised wrist. “He’s gone. I promise. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Can you stand up?”

She didn’t seem to hear. Zach pulled his radio off his belt and called for EMTs and backup. Then he tried again. “I won’t hurt you. I promise. Do you hear me?”

Her head came up, and she focused on his face. For the first time, Zach realized how young she was. Too young for bars, barely old enough for high school. Her dark hair and eyes reminded him of Carol, and his stomach started to chum.

“He’s gone?” she whispered.

“Yeah. You’re safe. Can you stand up?”

The girl sighed. “I think so.” When he helped her to her feet, Zach got another blow beneath the belt. She was pregnant. Not much, but enough for him to be sure.

He moved her away from the garbage as the ambulance stopped beside them. In seconds the EMTs had her on a stretcher, where they could treat the split lip, the swelling along her jaw and above her eyes.

Once they had her stabilized, Zach stepped close. “Who hit you?” he asked quietly.

The girl only stared at him, her swollen lips pressed together.

“Do you know the person who did this?” She closed her eyes. “Please. We need his name so we can punish him for hurting you.”

But she shook her head, and kept her eyes closed. Zach got a signal from the EMTs, who were ready to move, and he backed away. The ambulance pulled out in a flare of red and white light, leaving him standing in the street feeling sick.

“You see anybody?” Rafe Delgado, a cop who often shared shifts with Zach, came up beside him.

“Yeah, I saw the bastard. Six feet tall, dark hair in a ponytail. T-shirt and jeans, silver-toed boots. Urban cowboy type.”

Rafe wrote the description down. “The boots should help. Her cooperation would be even better.”

“Maybe her family will know.” He wiped his face with a shaking hand.

“Maybe.” Rafe clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll finish up here. If you see the guy again call me.”

“If he’s still alive.”

His friend laughed. “If he’s still alive.”

Zach got back into his car, but the memory of that girl’s battered face kept him motionless. Pregnant, no wedding ring, hanging out with a guy who beat her up when she made him mad. What kind of life was that? How did she get herself into such a lousy situation?

And what could he do to keep Carol from taking the same path?

CHAPTER FIVE

THE MIDDLE OF JULY arrived at last. Allyson was due any minute to spend the last six weeks of the summer with her mother.

Shelley had worked out the perfect plan for their talk. She wasn’t showing much yet, but she didn’t want to wait until her daughter noticed something. After Allyson had spent the afternoon in the pool, after they’d had a good dinner, they would sit down together and Shelley would explain the facts of life as they now stood.

In the meantime, she paced the house, straightening, dusting, rearranging knickknacks. She stood at the big front window for long minutes, as if staring at the street outside could make Dex’s car, with Allyson inside, appear. Her stomach tightened like a screw and she tried to eat, but only felt worse. She changed clothes twice, hoping to look as slim as possible.

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