“The Next Time The Baby Wakes Up, You Can Hold Him. Even If I’m Up.”

“You figure we’re going to come to fists over him?” Cassie whispered, a smile in her voice as they both leaned over the crib.

She was barely a foot away. A sliver of light from the hall illuminated her face. He inched closer. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and lingered. He wanted to put his palms along her face, bring her close, touch his lips to hers. Slip his hands under her pajama top, feel her skin—

She straightened abruptly. “I don’t— I mean…”

He pulled back. “Right. Yes. Of course.” What the hell was he doing?

“I’ll see you later,” she said, then hurried off ahead of him.

When he went to bed a few minutes later, he noticed her bedroom light was still on. He stood outside her door for a few seconds in case she called out to him.

She didn’t, and he went into his increasingly lonely bedroom, wondering at all the changes in his life and what would come next. He was ready for the next adventure.

Dear Reader,

This May, Silhouette Desire’s sensational lineup starts with Nalini Singh’s Awaken the Senses. This DYNASTIES: THE ASHTONS title is a tale of sexual awakening starring one seductive Frenchman. (Can you say ooh-la-la?) Also for your enjoyment this month is the launch of Maureen Child’s trilogy. The THREE-WAY WAGER series focuses on the Reilly brothers, triplets who bet each other they can stay celibate for ninety days. But wait until brother number one is reunited with The Tempting Mrs. Reilly.

Susan Crosby’s BEHIND CLOSED DOORS series continues with Heart of the Raven, a gothic-toned story of a man whose self-imposed seclusion has cut him off from love…until a sultry woman, and a beautiful baby, open up his heart. Brenda Jackson is back this month with a new Westmoreland story, in Jared’s Counterfeit Fiancée, the tale of a fake engagement that leads to real passion. Don’t miss Cathleen Galitz’s Only Skin Deep, a delightful transformation story in which a shy girl finally falls into bed with the man she’s always dreamed about. And rounding out the month is Bedroom Secrets by Michelle Celmer, featuring a hero to die for.

Thanks for choosing Silhouette Desire, where we strive to bring you the best in smart, sensual romances. And in the months to come look for a new installment of our TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB continuity and a brand-new TANNERS OF TEXAS title from the incomparable Peggy Moreland.

Happy reading!

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor

Silhouette Books

Heart of the Raven
Susan Crosby

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN CROSBY

believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes. A longtime reader of romance novels, Susan earned a B.A. in English while raising her sons. She lives in the central valley of California, the land of wine grapes, asparagus and almonds. Her checkered past includes jobs as a synchronized swimming instructor, personnel interviewer at a toy factory and trucking company manager, but her current occupation as a writer is her all-time favorite.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes; good-hearted, self-reliant heroines…and happy endings.

Susan loves to hear from readers. You can visit her at her Web site, www.susancrosby.com.

To Linda Pomeroy, a favorite fan and a great lady.

You’re MY star. And to Robin Burcell,

an extraordinary writer and critique partner. Never die!

Contents

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

One

Cassie Miranda shivered as she maneuvered her car up a steep, bumpy driveway on Wolfback Ridge. She hunched over the steering wheel to study her surroundings through the windshield. Downright eerie, she thought, slowing to a crawl. What happened to the blue sky and balmy weather that had followed her across the Golden Gate Bridge to Sausalito?

Until a minute ago the gorgeous September day would’ve had photographers racing around the city to take postcard-perfect pictures and businessmen ditching work for the Giants’ game. Then, without warning, gloom had blanketed the sky, as if a thundercloud hovered over just this piece of property. She glanced at her rearview mirror. Sure enough, still an azure sky behind her and a slice of San Francisco Bay.

The house came into view, a soaring glass-and-wood structure with a spectacular view of the San Francisco skyline and the world’s most famous bridge—if only the view hadn’t been blocked by the untended forest surrounding the property. She swore no ray of sunshine could penetrate the foliage. Her new client obviously required an abnormal amount of privacy.

She didn’t mind eccentric—to a point. If she’d wanted everyday-run-of-the-mill all the time, she wouldn’t have chosen to be a private investigator.

Cassie parked under a gnarly tree that looked to be a century old. A city girl all her life, she guessed it was an oak, but the only thing she knew about oaks was that acorns grew on them. She didn’t see any acorns.

She grabbed her briefcase and leather jacket from the passenger seat and climbed out of the car. It was quiet. Too quiet. As if birds were afraid to be there.

Cassie made a slow sweep of the terrain with her gaze as she slipped into her jacket. Chills tiptoed down her spine. Someone was watching her.

“It was a dark and stormy night,” she muttered, figuring if she spoke the hackneyed phrase aloud it would make her laugh. It didn’t.

She pulled her braid free of the jacket and let it fall against her spine. The lack of birdsong made her wonder if a wild animal was crouched nearby, watching her. Stalking her. That would scare the birds into silence, wouldn’t it? A wolf, perhaps? Is that why this place was named Wolfback Ridge—because wolves ran free?

She scanned the property again, admired the hand-carved sign that said Raven’s View, then lifted her gaze to the house. Tinted windows. Was it the client watching her? He even sounded gothic—Heath Raven. The name alone gave her an image of him. Dark and mysterious, maybe even disfigured. Tormented.

Cassie shook off her overactive imagination. One of her Los Angeles bosses had assigned her the case, a missing person. She’d called the client immediately and set up an appointment to see him, even though it was lunchtime. He’d sounded normal. A quick Internet search yielded the information that he was an architect, a highly acclaimed one. How bizarre could he be?

She walked toward the house, her boots crunching gravel along the rustic path leading to the building. The sky turned inky as the structure itself blocked the only remaining hope of sun creeping in.

Cassie trusted her instincts, and her instincts were screaming at her to turn tail and run, that the man who lived in this dreary setting was going to make her personal demons surface, ones she’d buried deep and long ago. But just then the big wooden door opened and a man stood framed in the doorway.

He wasn’t disfigured. Other than that, she’d nailed him. Dark brown hair overdue for a trim, angular features, clear green eyes, assessing and, yes, tormented. A too-thin body, but solid, too.

“Ms. Miranda?” he asked in that perfectly normal voice but without the slightest smile in his eyes.

“Yes. Good afternoon.” She passed him her business card, which identified her as Cassie Miranda of ARC Security & Investigations.

“I’m Heath Raven,” he said, taking a step back. “Please come in.”

He wore blue jeans and a red polo shirt, more normalcy.

Yet nothing seemed normal at all.

The house was as silent as a padded cell. The sleek furnishings of the living room they stepped into looked unused, as did the fireplace, which showed no signs of ever having been lit. The huge windows should’ve allowed light to flood in. Instead it was dim. Dismal. And sad—especially sad, as if the house was in mourning.

Cassie pulled a notebook and pen from her pocket as she sat on the sofa. He stood a distance away.

“Who’s missing, Mr. Raven?” she asked.

His jaw hardened. “My child. My child is missing.”

His words hit hard, a blow to the stomach. This wasn’t a case for her firm, but for the P.D. She closed her notebook. “What do the police say?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t understand. A child who disappears—”

“The woman who is carrying my child disappeared. She left a note. The police won’t get involved because she went voluntarily.”

Anger coated his words—at the woman or the police? Understandable, either way.

“May I see the note?” she asked.

He left the room, giving her a chance to catch her breath. If she’d known there was a child involved… No. She would’ve met with him regardless. She just wished she’d been prepared. Any case involving a child kept her up at night, drove her to exhaustion. She pushed harder for answers, demanded more of herself and everyone around her.

“Here,” he said, handing her a single sheet of pink stationery.

Dear Heath,

I need to figure things out. Don’t try to find me. I’ll be in touch later.

Eva

Not exactly a love letter, Cassie thought. “When did you receive this?”

“It came in the mail this morning.”

“Is she your wife?”

“No. We had a one-night stand over eight months ago. I offered to marry her, several times, but she said no. Several times.” He walked away from her.

“Why would she leave?”

He looked back sharply. “I didn’t abuse her, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m gathering facts. That’s what I do.”

Impatience surfacing, he dragged his hands down his face. “Here’s the story,” he said. “I don’t get out much. Most of the time people come to me when I need something. Eva works as a clerk in my lawyer’s office, and she was assigned to bring me paperwork to read and sign. After almost a year of seeing her once a week or so, we slept together. Once. She got pregnant.”

“When is she due?”

“In three weeks.” He moved around the room again, not stopping to touch anything, just moving, pacing. Prowling.

“Are you sure the child is yours?”

He hesitated a fraction of a second. “I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

She measured his response and decided if he’d questioned the issue before, it was settled in his mind—or almost so. He’d be a fool not to have some doubt, based on what he’d told her. “Okay. Were there any clues that she was about to take off?”

He came to an abrupt halt. “None.” The harshly uttered word conveyed all of his brimming emotions. “She stops by every few days. She gives me an update from her latest doctor’s appointment, we talk a little, and that’s it. I’ve never done anything to make her run away. She agreed to shared custody as soon as the child was weaned. We have an amicable relationship.”

An amicable relationship? Cassie thought it was an odd description, implying they were not friends but merely acquaintances.

“Do you give her money?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She waited. He didn’t expand on his answer.

“I’m going to need more detail than that.”

“Ms. Miranda. Eva is carrying my child. I want my child well taken care of. That starts in the womb. Short of Eva moving in here, which she refused to do, I thought that making her life easier with some extra money would only help. I will show you the accounting of my payments to her, but what does it matter?”

“It matters because it establishes a pattern. Maybe she ran off and is holding your unborn child hostage because she wants more money.” Cassie tapped her pen against the pad she’d opened again. “She says she’ll be in touch. Why aren’t you just waiting her out? If you trusted her, you would do what she asked.”

He looked away, his hands clenching and unclenching, shoulders stiff. The barely contained emotion fascinated her. Still waters ran very deep.

“Three years ago my son died. My only child,” he said, then faced her again. “I won’t lose this child, too.”

His pain pierced the room like a siren’s wail. Cassie’s heart opened wide with sympathy. She was twenty-nine years old, and she’d seen suffering and endured a lot in her own life, but nothing like losing a child.

Her suffering— No, she wouldn’t dwell. “I’ll help you,” she said to Heath finally.

His relief brought quiet back into the room. “Thank you.”

“What do you think she meant in her note when she said she needed to figure things out?”

He straightened, focusing on her, on the new direction of questioning, as she had intended.

“I have no idea.”

“Did she have a boyfriend?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“What about family?”

“She was vague about it. She spoke of her parents and that they live ‘back east,’ but that was all.”

“Okay. It’s something to start with. I’ll need more information. Her last name, address. Anything else you can give me.”

He nodded. “Let’s go to my office.”

She followed him up a massive staircase and into a large workroom. Her gaze didn’t linger on the two substantial tables with blueprints spread on them, or on the unusual pieces of oversize computer equipment she guessed were necessary to being an architect.

Her attention fixed on the fact the entire outside wall of the room was windows. And every window was covered by blinds. And every blind was closed.

Heath appreciated the efficiency with which Cassie worked. Even before she’d started asking questions he’d guessed she was detail oriented. Her starched-and-pressed white shirt and crisp Wranglers told him she was meticulous and that the little things mattered.

She was also a jumble of energy. She moved fast, thought fast, yet was deliberate. He couldn’t give himself credit for choosing the right investigator, because he’d actually been referred to her boss, Quinn Gerard. Gerard was out of town when Heath called. Cassie was at her desk. Simple as that.

She had presence. Her pointed-toe cowboy boots brought her within a few inches of his six foot one. Her golden-brown hair hung in a thick braid to her waist. Her dark blue eyes could be penetrating or sympathetic. She already seemed to know when to divert him, to make him stop focusing on his anger—his fury—that Eva had taken off. He figured he could work fine with Cassie.

At the moment she was writing in her notebook. She’d taken off her old and apparently cherished leather jacket and hung it neatly on the back of a chair. At her waist was a holstered gun. He hadn’t expected that. He didn’t know why he was surprised, but he acknowledged it as sexist. If Quinn Gerard had shown up for the job, Heath wouldn’t have been surprised at the weapon.

“What kind of gun is that?” he asked.

She didn’t look up. “Sig Sauer. Forty caliber.”

“Are you good with it?”

“Is San Francisco foggy?” She smiled at him, her confidence more than a little appealing to him.

“I don’t always carry, but I didn’t know what I was walking into today. Okay—” she tapped her pen on her notebook “—you said Eva works at your lawyer’s office.”

“She did. She went on maternity leave starting last week.”

She frowned. “That’s early, isn’t it? It seems like women work until their water breaks these days.”

“I wouldn’t know.” His ex-wife had stopped working the day they were married, which had been fine with him.

“Is it a big firm?”

“Torrance and Torrance.”

“That’s a big firm,” she stated. “I worked for Oberman, Steele and Jenkins for five years as an in-house investigator, so I know a lot of the law firms. OSJ does criminal work, and T and T does corporate, but they must operate alike. She would have friends at work—other clerks and paralegals. In a company with that many employees, there would be at least one or two she would go to lunch with. I’ll check it out.”

Heath braced his legs. “You can’t,” he said to her back.

“I can’t what?”

“Talk to anyone at the office.”

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I have to.”

“You can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because our relationship was secret. They have a strict no-fraternization-with-the-clients rule. She would be fired.”

“No one knows you’re the father?”

“No one at her work, at least.”

“I wonder how she managed that.” Her toe tapped the floor. “It would be very hard to keep that sort of thing to yourself.”

“She likes her job. She wants to hold on to it.”

“Hmm.” After a few seconds she flipped a page. “We’ll skip that for now. Current residence?”

He passed her a card he’d pulled from his Rolodex file.

She wrote down the address.

“She has a roommate,” he said. “Darcy. I don’t know her last name.”

“Have you been to the apartment?”

“No.”

“So, the one-night-stand thing really was all there was to it? You never went on a date?”

“Never.” Admitting it out loud made it seem sordid. It hadn’t been sordid. He hadn’t taken advantage of Eva. She’d been willing. More than willing. If anything, she’d come after him.

Cassie looked at the Rolodex card again. “Is this her current phone number?”

“Yes. It’s a cell.”

“I take it you’ve tried to reach her.”

“It’s turned off.”

“Okay.” She wrote down the number and gave him back the card. “Friends she’s talked about?”

“Someone named Megan. A guy named Jay.”

“In what context did she discuss them?”

“They were people she went out with after work and on the weekends.”

“You don’t think this Jay could be a boyfriend?”

“Didn’t sound like it.” Heath liked the way she fired questions, hardly waiting for his answer. Thinking one step ahead.

“You mentioned parents ‘back east.’ She never said their names?”

“No.”

“Any mention of siblings?”

“A sister, Tricia. Older. She has three children. Eva called her for pregnancy advice. Said she couldn’t talk to anyone else.”

“Is she local?”

“I have no idea.”

She contemplated him in silence.

“I know I should know more about the woman who is carrying my baby,” he said apologetically and with disgust, too. “It isn’t as if I didn’t ask her questions and want to know more about her. She just wasn’t forthcoming.”

“She kept secrets.”

The way Cassie stated it instead of asking it brought his worries to the forefront, too. He’d already realized he couldn’t trust Eva, but he hadn’t known whether to be afraid for her or angry at her.

“In some ways she was open,” he said. She was a distraction when he’d needed it. Or so he’d thought. Turned out he was wrong, but that didn’t relieve him of his responsibilities. “It was like she wanted to keep herself mysterious, like it would keep me more interested.”

“Would it?”

He considered the possibility. “Maybe. To a point. Intrigue boosts adrenaline and interest, but it had gotten tired.”

“Yeah. The rush is great—for a while. How about education?” Cassie asked.

“Currently attending business school. The firm was paying for a paralegal course. She was allowed to attend classes during work hours.” He passed her a piece of paper. “Make and model of the car she drives, and the license plate.”

“Outstanding. Who is her obstetrician?”

Heath handed her a second Rolodex card, which also listed the hospital where the baby was to be born.

“Did you take Lamaze classes? Do you plan on being there for the birth?”

“No and no.”

“Did you go to her doctor’s appointments with her?”

“No.” He almost had, once, when she was to have an ultrasound. He changed his mind at his front door.

Cassie capped the pen and bounced it against her palm as she eyed him. “You said you don’t get out much.”

“Right.”

“Do you get out at all, Mr. Raven?”

“Heath. And, no.”

“For how long?”

“Three years.”

He let her do the math. He hadn’t stepped foot out of his house since his son died.

“You don’t open the blinds, either.”

“No.”

She didn’t ask why, but if she had, he wouldn’t have answered. It wasn’t any of her business.

“Okay,” she said, slipping the pen into her notebook. “I’ve got enough to get started, except I need a photo, if you’ve got one.”

He handed her a file folder.

“Young,” Cassie said when she saw the photo inside.

“Twenty-three. I’m thirty-nine. I figure you’re wondering. Yeah, she was young.” And they didn’t have much in common. “There’s a picture of the baby.”

She turned the page. He’d made a copy of the ultrasound taken months ago.

She turned the picture sideways, then upside down. “I’ve never seen one of these before.”

He outlined the body parts. “Head. Nose. Chin. Arms. Fingers. Legs.”

Cassie smiled. “If you say so. Do you know the sex?”

He tapped the page. “Legs are crossed.”

“Or there’s nothing to see. Could be a little girl.”

“Could be.”

She closed her notebook. He handed her an envelope with a check for the retainer she’d told him on the phone that ARC would require. They walked downstairs in silence.

At the front door she stopped. “Are you in love with her?”

Like he believed in love anymore? “No.”

“Yet you would’ve married her.”

He’d already said as much. He felt no need to explain himself.

“There’s something I need you to do,” Cassie said, her tone businesslike but her eyes gentle. “The investigation may take a turn or reach a point where you will have to leave the house, maybe to go with me somewhere or even to go alone if Eva calls and needs you. You need to get your mind in a place where you can do that.”

“I already have.” He would do anything for his child. Anything. Including fighting Eva for custody, something he wouldn’t have done before. She obviously wasn’t fit to be a mother. “What can I do in the meantime?”

“Let me get things rolling first. Sometimes these kinds of things solve themselves fairly fast. If you think of anything else that might be important, give me a call.”

She held out her hand. He took it automatically, one businessperson to another, concluding a deal. He started to let go, but she tightened her hold.

He got caught in the unwavering intensity of her eyes.

“I will find your child,” she said with conviction.

His throat closed. He barely stopped himself from yanking her into his arms in gratitude.

He believed her.

Two

It didn’t take Cassie long at her computer that afternoon to come up with Eva’s date of birth, social security number, current address and previous address. The rest would take more digging. She expected that the interview with the roommate, Darcy, would yield the most concrete information—unless Eva had been as secretive with Darcy as she’d been with Heath.

Cassie hit the print key then pushed away from her desk and stretched, loosening her shoulder muscles. While her documents and notes printed, she would call Eva’s obstetrician. She picked up the phone, started to punch in the numbers, then stopped the call before it went through and dialed Heath instead.

“It’s Cassie Miranda,” she said when he answered.

“You have news?”

She heard expectation in his voice and was sorry not to be able to give him good news. She didn’t know much about Eva yet, but Cassie knew this much—people who used children were the lowest form of humanity. “I’m sorry, no. I’m about to call her OB’s office and pretend I’m her. Does she have an accent?”

A few beats passed. She figured he was dealing with the disappointment of no news. “No accent,” he said finally.

“Any distinctive speech patterns? Does she say ‘you know’ a lot? Or ‘like’? Anything like that?”

“She giggles.”

Cassie cringed. “A lot?”

“Yes. Even more when she’s nervous.”

Great. “Can you give me an example?”

Silence, then, “Right. That’s something I would do.”

She smiled at his sarcasm. “I think I would’ve liked to hear you try.” She looked at Eva’s photo when he said nothing further, trying to picture the two of them together. They didn’t fit. She was a girl-next-door type, with red hair and freckles, and he seemed worldly, even in his grief for the son he lost and the yet-to-be-born child now missing.

And he’s a hermit, don’t forget. Not exactly your ordinary sophisticate.

“Any other ideas come to you?” she asked.

“She likes to shop.”

Cassie grinned. She was getting used to his interesting way of offering information, direct and vague at the same time. “Any place in particular?”

“She likes a bargain. Said she’s never paid full price for anything and she never would.”

“She likes a bargain as in thrift stores—or the semiannual sale at Nordstrom?”

“Both, I would guess. And consignment shops. She’d found one that sold only maternity clothes.”

“Can’t be too many of those in the city.” She grabbed her phone book from her credenza and placed it on her desktop. “Thanks. I’ll check it out.”

As soon as she hung up she called the doctor’s office, knowing she was cutting it close to quitting time. She drummed her pen on the desk as the voice menu prompted her with choices to make, then she chose option three, which had to do with making appointments.

“Hi,” she said when an actual human being came on the line. “This is Eva Brooks. I’ve done the silliest thing.” That was as close to a giggle as she was going to get. “I lost the card showing my next appointment. Can you tell me when I’m supposed to come in, please?”

“Brooks, did you say?”

“Yes. Eva.”

Cassie heard the distinctive sound of keystrokes on a keyboard.

“You’re Dr. Sorenson’s patient?”

“Yes.” Did she sound cheerful enough? Innocent enough? Please don’t make me giggle.

“Do you go by a different first name?”

Cassie knew she didn’t have to pursue it. Another of Eva’s deceits. Was she really even pregnant? Was it all a scheme to squeeze money out of Heath? Prey on his vulnerabilities?

“I’m sorry. Did you say Sorenson?” Cassie asked. “I wasn’t paying attention. I dialed wrong. My mistake.”

She dropped the receiver into the cradle and stared sightlessly at the phone.

“Cass?”

She roused herself as James Paladin rapped his knuckles on her desk. Like her, he’d been hired as an investigator nine months ago when the L.A.-based ARC Security & Investigations opened its branch office in San Francisco.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She straightened, paid attention. “Yeah. You need something, Jamey?”

“To brainstorm the Kobieski case, if you’ve got time.”

She looked at her watch—five o’clock exactly. She didn’t want to tell Heath over the phone. He’d had enough heartache already. She could at least soften the blow in person. But the commute traffic from San Francisco across the bridge would be horrendous now. If she waited an hour or two…

“Sure,” she said. “I’ve got time.”

From a downstairs bedroom Heath watched Cassie walk from her car toward his house, her strides purposeful. She’d called a few minutes ago, as she was driving across the bridge, alerting him she was coming, an unnecessary thoughtfulness since he never went anywhere and she knew it.

What had she found out? Something important or she would’ve told him over the phone. Something good, he hoped.

He tried to turn off his appreciation of her as a woman, but he couldn’t. She was beautiful, pure and simple. And unaware of it. If she used makeup at all, it was minimal. She pulled her hair back into a simple braid. No fuss, no muss. Her body was athletic and curvy, a one-two punch to a man who’d recently convinced himself that celibacy should be the only path for him from now on, but who obviously wasn’t capable of such a sacrifice.

Aside from her spectacular face and body she had a mind that appealed, too. And she didn’t giggle.

The doorbell rang. He hadn’t meant to make her wait, but he’d been distracted by thoughts of her—didn’t want to be, but he was. This time, however, he would control his response, even though her passion-filled promise that she would find his baby was as seductive as her physical being.

He set the little white teddy bear he’d been holding onto a nearby rocking chair and headed into the foyer. He opened the door, hope in his heart.

All hope fled when he looked in her eyes. “Tell me,” he said.

“Can we sit?” she asked.

“Tell me.”

Her mouth tightened. “Are you sure she’s pregnant?”

Not dead. Not dead, or she would’ve said so right away. Relief rushed through him like three straight shots of bourbon, hot and dizzying. “Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Why?”

“Because Dr. Sorenson’s office says she wasn’t a patient. How do you know for sure she was pregnant?”

“I felt the baby move.”

“I don’t mean to question you on this, but—”

“She let me put my hand on her abdomen many times while she visited. Sometimes she lifted her blouse enough that I could watch the baby move inside her. I’ve been through a pregnancy before, Cassie.”

She propped her fists on her hips and looked at the floor, blowing out a breath. “I thought she’d been toying with you. Playing you for—” She stopped.

“A fool? A sucker?” he finished.

She shook her head. “A decent, but vulnerable man. One with money.”

He let the words linger for a few seconds.

“What’s the next step?” he asked, ignoring the implications of what she’d said. “You can’t call every doctor in the city.”

“Yes, I can.”

It took him a moment to let that idea sink in. “You’re kidding.”

“I’ll start with the obstetricians, of course.”

“You can’t possibly—”

“Yes. I can. And I’ll try to hook up with the roommate tomorrow. I think that’s our best chance for information. The problem I’m going to have with calling the doctors is that there are so many group practices. I would be asked which doctor, and I can’t name more than one.”

“So, it’s a long shot.”

She smiled at the understatement. “We could get lucky.”

He admired her resolve. “What can I do?”

“Be here if she calls or comes by.”

“That goes without saying.”

She studied him. “Are you sure you’ll be able to leave the house if you need to?”

He didn’t like being questioned, wasn’t used to it. “Has it occurred to you that I choose to stay in my house? That it’s a conscious choice I made?” He leaned toward her. “I will do what needs to be done.”

“Why haven’t—”

“The subject’s not on the table, Cassie.”

It ended not only that particular discussion about why he didn’t leave the house but also their conversation in general. He walked her to the front door.

“Did you design this house?” she asked.

“I did.”

“It’s spectacular.”

“But?”

“No but.”

“Yes, there is.” He heard it in her voice even if she didn’t realize it.

She shook her head.

Ah. Keeps her own counsel. He liked that.

“If Eva had simply disappeared, without leaving a note,” Cassie said, her hand on the doorknob, “this whole situation would be different. The police would get involved. We would have access to their resources. I still think someone at her office could help.”

“I refuse to cause problems for her at work if she’s just having some kind of hormone overload. I’m already disregarding her wishes by hiring you to try to find her, for which I feel no guilt whatsoever, by the way. That’s my child she’s got. My life she’s playing with, as well.” He shoved his hands through his hair, locked his fingers behind his neck and made himself calm down. “Look, I’m trying to do the right thing here. It’s my fault she’s pregnant.”

“You know, Heath, these days I think we consider pregnancy a dual responsibility.”

“She was young.”

“Not that young. And you were vulnerable.”

It was the second time she’d used that word to describe him. He didn’t like it. Who was she to come to that conclusion so quickly?

“Vulnerable doesn’t mean weak,” she said, somehow reading his mind. “It means you’d been hurt so deeply you didn’t want to survive, but you did, so you have to deal with it, but it’s harder for you than for others. Most people can’t cope too long without the company of other people, of a compatible partner, no matter how short-lived.”

“Personal experience?”

“I haven’t lost a child.” She opened the door. “I’ll be in touch when I have news.”

“I want progress reports, not just news.”

“No problem.”

He didn’t want her to leave…but he couldn’t ask her to stay.

Three

Cassie grabbed an official-looking envelope from the passenger seat then headed into Eva’s apartment building. The hallway was surprisingly bright and cheerful. Someone was playing a clarinet, repeating the same section again and again. The fragrance of sautéing onions drifted, mingling with something spicy. Curry? It was five o’clock on Friday night. She hoped to catch Eva’s roommate before she headed out for the evening.

Eva and Darcy lived on the third floor. Cassie climbed the stairs then knocked on the door. After fifteen seconds she tried again. No one answered. No sounds came from inside.

She propped her shoulders against the wall next to the door to wait. So much of her job involved patience. She surprised even herself that she not only coped well with all the waiting involved but that she didn’t even mind it most of the time. Surveillance was often boring, but she was so grateful to be working for ARC that she didn’t even mind the long, dull hours sitting in her car waiting and watching for something to happen. Her life had changed drastically since Quinn had hired her late last year.

An image of Heath popped into her head. A fascinating man, simmering with emotion he carefully controlled. Talented and intelligent. Angry. Somber.

He had good reasons to be somber. Cassie had learned that his five-year-old son, Kyle, had died in a school bus accident three years ago, and that Heath had been with him but couldn’t save him. Heath was still married at the time, so the divorce had obviously come after they lost their son.

The death of a child, a divorce and now the disappearance of the woman carrying his baby—Cassie was surprised he was speaking in complete sentences.

She thought back to the look on his face when he’d opened the door to her last night. The hope that died fast when she didn’t have good news for him. She’d wanted to put her arms around him and tell him it was going to be okay. His pain sent her reeling back to her own, different but still caused by other people taking away control, making you—

Someone was jogging up the stairs. Cassie pushed herself away from the wall just as a woman in her early twenties rounded the corner. Her hair was black and chin-length, a choppy cut popular with her age group. Her gold nose stud reflected light from a wall sconce. She wore a ruffled minidress over form-fitting jeans, a look that worked for her.

She challenged Cassie with her eyes.

“Are you Darcy?” Cassie asked.

“Why?”

“I’m looking for Eva Brooks.”

She slid her key into the lock. “Get in line.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Eva bailed a month ago.” The door opened. “I had to take a second job so I could cover the rent.” She looked Cassie up and down. “What d’you want with her?”

A month ago? “I have a document for her.”

Darcy eyed the envelope Cassie held. “What kinda document?”

“I really can’t say.”

“Well, I can’t help you.”

She started to shut the door. Cassie put her hand out to stop it from closing. “I really need to find her. It might mean a lot of money for her, if she’s the right Eva Brooks.” It was the right tactic. At the word money Darcy paid attention.

“She owes me rent and stuff,” Darcy said.

Cassie waited.

“Look,” the young woman said, “I don’t know where she’s at. The lawyer she works for called, too, but I couldn’t help him, either.”

“How long have you been roommates?”

“Couple of years. She got herself knocked up, though, so I was kinda glad she left ’cuz I really didn’t want a baby around, you know?”

“I’m sure. Did she talk about the father? Maybe she’s with him.”

She snorted. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Too old. Too stodgy. I don’t know. She had a list of reasons why she wasn’t hanging out with him.”

Cassie could see how Eva would perceive Heath as stodgy, especially if she didn’t see past his pain. But, old? “Still, she is pregnant,” she said to Darcy. “It would make sense that she would turn to him.”

“Maybe. Her mail’s still coming here, though. Bills. I’m not paying ’em.”

“Could I take a look?”

Darcy frowned. “Who are you?”

Cassie gave her a business card.

“A P.I.?” She gave a low whistle. “Sweet.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“She got a rich old uncle who died and left her money?”

“Something like that. Maybe I can track her down through her mail, then you can get the money she owes you.”

Darcy hesitated. For a second Cassie thought she’d convinced her, then Darcy shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right. And I really gotta go. If I’m late even a minute, they dock an hour’s pay.”

“I wouldn’t open the mail. Just see who sent it.”

“Naw.”

“You’ve got my number,” Cassie said as the door closed.

She made her way to her car. Now what?

She didn’t like how this case was stacking up. Eva had lied more than once and now had left no trail. It was rare that someone could just disappear, but especially someone eight months pregnant.

Cassie decided there were no leads to follow, no more calls that could be made at the moment. She could give Heath an update by phone then go back to the office and do the paperwork she’d ignored on her two other cases. Or she could call a friend and go out to dinner, maybe dancing. Blow off a little steam. Find a reason to laugh.

She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. After a minute she put it away. She didn’t know why she tried to pretend with herself. She wanted to see him in person. It was stupid. She didn’t get mixed up with clients, and she especially shouldn’t get mixed up with this one, who had twice as much baggage as she did—and that was a lot, although hers had been stored in an overhead bin for a long time.

She should do them both a favor and just call him and let him know how it went with Darcy.

Then she pictured the look in his eyes when he’d said his child was missing.

She glanced at her watch. The traffic would be miserable.

She gripped the steering wheel. There was nothing to accomplish by going to his house. She would only add to an attraction that should be buried in businesslike behavior.

If only someone had cared about me like he cares for his unborn child.

Cassie blew out a long breath. Okay, so she was drawn to the wounded man in more ways than were good for her. Decency was a big lure. She’d known too many not-so-decent people.

She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. He had to be especially lonely now. The hours must drag by as he waited for word.

She resigned herself to the inevitable, started her car then eased into traffic.

Heath eyed the telephone on the desk beside him. If Cassie had news she would call. He knew that. But the waiting was almost too much to handle. She’d called once today to say she had nothing to report. That was hours ago.

He shoved away from his desk. He couldn’t work.

After Kyle died Heath had thrown himself into work, resting only when he fell asleep at the computer. Mary Ann had left him the day of the funeral. It should have been the least creative, least productive time of his career. Instead he’d overflowed with ideas. He’d designed buildings that would never be built, futuristic-looking skyscrapers beyond man’s ability to engineer. But he’d also produced winning, workable designs—buildings he’d never seen except in video, whether already constructed or under construction now.

A psychologist would undoubtedly tell him it was avoidance, that he was only delaying his grief by immersing himself in work. And to a psychologist, that might be the easy truth. Heath knew it was much more complicated.

When Eva told him she was pregnant he was stunned at first, then in denial. But he’d come to believe that the child would be his chance to do it over, and do it right.

The doorbell rang. He dragged himself out of his office, grabbing his wallet as he went. He’d ordered dinner from Villa Romano.

It wasn’t the delivery boy at the door, however.

“Am I interrupting you?” Cassie asked.

Except for the fact she was wearing a blue shirt instead of white, she was dressed as she had been yesterday. Her uniform, he decided. Damn but it looked good on her. He tried to read her expression. Do you have good news for me or bad?

He fought the urge to take her in his arms. His need for human touch—her touch—came from out of the blue.

“I’m sorry,” she said, angling as if to leave. “I should’ve called.”

He’d stared at her in silence for too long. She didn’t know he was fighting a rush of feeling for her—the last thing he needed right then. Especially since he couldn’t define what that feeling was.

“No. Cassie, I’m glad to see you.”

A refurbished postal Jeep left dust in its wake as it sped up the driveway and came to a quick stop.

“Dinner,” Heath told Cassie.

“Hey,” said a kid with sixteen or so piercings and tattoos down his arms. He hopped onto the porch. “How’s it goin’?”

Heath traded the boy money for the take-out containers. “Thanks.”

He jogged off with a backward wave.

Heath moved aside to let Cassie in.

“I was presumptuous,” she said.

“Not at all.” He waited for her to say something about Eva. Anything.

“I don’t have any news to speak of,” she said, following him into the kitchen. “I made a lot of calls to obstetricians’ offices, without results.”

He wondered how many more blows he would have to take. Damn you, Eva. “Would you like a beer or something?”

“No, thanks.” She leaned against the counter. “I went to her previous apartment, but I didn’t find anyone at home who remembered her. I’ll go back tomorrow when I might catch a few more tenants. Of course people are often out running errands on Saturday, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Okay.”

“I contacted her business school, but they’re on a two-week break before the next semester. They wouldn’t tell me if she was registered. Then I went to the two maternity-wear consignment shops. One of the clerks recognized her photo but said she hadn’t been in for a couple of months. Which makes sense. At some point, you’ve got enough maternity clothes. Anyway, I left her my card and asked her to call if Eva came back.”

“You were busy.”

“Yeah. And just before I came here, I met Darcy. Eva left the apartment a month ago, no notice. Darcy doesn’t know where she went, and she’s pretty ticked off that she’s been left with the full rent to pay.”

“Too ticked off to give you any information?”

“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know anything, but I’ll try her again, too. She may know more than she thinks.”

He opened a bottle of beer for himself. If Darcy didn’t have any information, what chance did they have? Eva could be anywhere. With anyone. He may never see his baby. Ever.

What the hell had he done to deserve this? Hadn’t he paid a big enough price already? He took a long swig of beer then plunked the bottle on the counter.

Cassie rested her hand on his. “We’ll find them. We will.”

He didn’t pull his hand away, but he tried to figure her out. “You could’ve called and told me this, Cassie.”

She straightened, probably because he’d sounded accusatory. “I could have.”

Why didn’t you? “I’ve got enough ravioli for two,” he said by way of invitation, testing the waters.

She hesitated. They seemed to do that a lot with each other.

“I appreciate the offer,” she said, “but I need to get going.”

He’d read her wrong. It only served to frustrate him more. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Thanks.” She walked out of the kitchen.

He followed. His mood, not good to start with, got blacker. Just yesterday he’d been glad she was the investigator on his case. Now he wasn’t sure.

“I don’t know how much I can do until Monday and the doctors’ offices are open again. I contacted every local hospital and will continue to do so,” she said.

She’d been as efficient as he’d expected. But he still didn’t know why she’d come instead of called, especially since she wouldn’t even share dinner with him.

She waited, apparently giving him the opportunity to say something. When he didn’t, she opened the door and stepped outside. It was a beautiful evening, warm and breezy, a good night for driving the silver convertible parked in his garage. The one he hadn’t driven in three years. The one that undoubtedly wouldn’t start. He should take care of that.

“I’m sorry,” Cassie said, then walked away.

“For what?”

“For disturbing your evening.”

He didn’t tell her she was wrong, because she had disturbed his evening—and he liked the disturbance. But it was better that she leave.

He watched her walk away, her pace even quicker than usual. He’d never been drawn to a woman this fast before. He’d known Mary Ann for months before they dated. Eva hadn’t been any temptation at all until almost a year of seeing her once a week and then only because of her overt come-on. But Cassie—

She was gone. He returned to the house to wait for the phone to ring. He ate dinner because he knew he needed fuel, then he retreated to his office. Midnight came. One o’clock. Two. He fought sleep. Until recently every time he slept he heard Kyle call for him. Daddy. Dad-dy! He woke up sweating and trying to catch his breath. Recently he’d been hearing a baby cry.

He jerked up, hitting his head on his work lamp. The baby was crying again—

No. It was his doorbell. He blinked to clear his eyes and looked at the clock. Four thirty-five. He’d fallen asleep at his worktable.

The bell rang again. He shook his head and hurried out of the room, down the stairs. He glanced out the glass panel next to the door.

Eva. Holding a baby.

Four

Heath yanked open the door. His gaze went to the bundle in Eva’s arms then to her face. Her eyes were blank, her hair straggly, her freckles prominent.

“Come in,” he urged her, picking up the diaper bag she’d set on the ground beside her. He looked over her shoulder and spotted her car. He hadn’t heard her drive up, he’d been so soundly asleep.

He guided her toward the living room. She sat down gingerly. He took a seat beside her and waited, knowing he couldn’t push her for information but wanting to yell at her, Where have you been? Why did you worry me like that?

“It’s a boy,” she said.

A tornado of emotion spun through him, fast and furious, destroying the walls of resistance built months ago, obliterating uncertainty in one gigantic whirl. A boy. A son.

“Do you want to hold him?” Eva asked solemnly.

“Yes.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs then reached for the baby. The blanket fell away from his face and Heath looked at his son for the first time. He wriggled, pursed his lips and arched his back but didn’t open his eyes. He had dark hair, a sweet pink face. Heath’s eyes blurred as he dragged a finger lightly down his son’s face. “He’s perfect.” He reached to take Eva’s hand. “Thank you.”

She stared at him for a long time, then she lifted her chin. “Do you want him?”

“Of course I want him. I’ve told you so all along.”

“I mean—” she pulled her hand free “—do you want to keep him yourself? Forever?”

His heart slammed against his sternum. “What?”

“If you do, I’ll leave him here with you.”

“Why?”

“Do you or don’t you?”

Heath tried to make sense of what she was doing. Why would she offer such a thing? Postpartum depression? If so, undoubtedly she would be back to claim her child.

But in the meantime, no one else would have his son. “I do,” he said simply.

“How much is he worth to you?”

Shock ripped through Heath. She was selling him? He didn’t know her at all. He realized he never knew her.

My son is worth everything. How could he place a dollar value on his own child? “I can write you a check for ten thousand right now. If you want more, you’ll have to wait until the bank opens on Monday.”

“I’ll take it.”

He hesitated. So little? She knew he could afford much more than that.

Something wasn’t right. But when he looked at his son, the thought fled. “Will you sign a letter agreeing to my assuming full legal custody of him?”

“Sure, why not?”

He started to put his son in Eva’s arms while he tended to business but realized he couldn’t let go of him. “Come up to my office. We’ll draft an agreement.”

He dictated the note as she typed it, her hands shaking, then they both signed it. He wrote out the check and gave it to her.

“You’d better not stop payment on this or I’ll take him back,” she said coldly. “I only have to claim severe postpartum depression. Everyone will understand that.”

He was more concerned that the document wouldn’t hold up in court. “Did you give him a name?”

“No.”

“When was he born?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday? Shouldn’t he still be in the hospital?”

“No.” She started to leave the room, her face ashen, legs wobbly.

“Eva,” he said, touching her shoulder. “You need to rest. Stay here. Sleep for a while. Have something to eat.”

“I can’t.” Her eyes shifted to the baby, then she ducked her head and hurried out of the office and down the stairs. She flung open the front door and raced out.

“Wait!” he called, but she didn’t stop. He tucked the blanket more tightly around his son and followed her into the yard. “Where can I contact you?”

“There’s a bottle in the diaper bag. You just have to warm it.” She got in her car and slammed the door, then she was gone.

He stood there until he could no longer hear her engine, then he walked back into the house. The baby made a noise. Heath pulled the blanket from his face and stood in the foyer staring at him. His son. His second chance.

He leaned over and kissed his tiny forehead. He felt dizzy, almost nauseated. He made his way into the living room and sat down to stare at the boy. Soon he started to fuss, then whimper, then cry. Heath dug through the diaper bag in search of a bottle.

He cried in earnest now. Heath didn’t know whether to heat the tiny bottle in the microwave or—

He decided to run hot water into a bowl. It might take longer but it couldn’t melt the nipple or anything.

While he waited for the bottle to warm, he walked the kitchen floor, whispering soothing words, holding his son close, bouncing him lightly. His cries got louder. Heath tested the milk. Not warm yet. He ran more hot water, then picked up the telephone. He glanced at the business card sitting on his kitchen counter.

Five-fifteen in the morning, he noticed as the phone was ringing. Would she mind?

“Hello?” she said, her voice layered with sleep, but trying not to show it.

“Cassie?” he said above the baby’s cries.

“Heath? Is that—?”

“It’s my son. Can you come over?”

Cassie waited anxiously at Heath’s front door. The usual silence surrounded the house. No sound of a baby crying. No birds singing in the early dawn.

She prepared herself for meeting Eva, for being polite to the woman who’d caused Heath grief and worry on top of what he already lived with.

She prepared herself, too, for the fact she wouldn’t see him after this. The issue was closed. She hadn’t even had a chance to find the baby herself, to solve the case, to show him, frankly, how good she was at her job. She should be glad it was over. She was glad it was over, for Heath’s sake, but he would be completely involved in his new life now.

Maybe Eva would even agree to marry him, and they could live together as a family. The baby deserved that opportunity. Eva should give it a chance.

The front door opened. His arms were empty. He should be smiling. He wasn’t smiling.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, gesturing her in.

Cassie stepped across the threshold and into the foyer. The lights were on in the living room but Cassie saw no signs of the redheaded Eva.

“Where’s the baby?”

“Asleep. In his basket.”

He led her toward the living room. She spotted a wicker bassinet on the coffee table.

“And Eva?”

“Gone.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

Cassie bent over the bassinet, saw that it was lined with yellow gingham. “You don’t— Oh! Oh, how sweet.” He was wrapped in a blue blanket, his tiny face barely visible. Her heart melted. She’d felt a bond with him from the moment she knew of his existence, her concern for his welfare her priority. Seeing him in person cemented everything.

She straightened. “What do you mean you don’t know where she is?”

“She sold him to me for ten thousand dollars, then she left.”

It took her a second to comprehend what he’d just told her. “Seriously?”

“Signed, sealed and delivered.”

She sat on the sofa but kept her hand on the basket as Heath related what happened.

“What do you think?” she asked. “It sounds like she was emotional.”

“Definitely. But there are all kinds of emotions, Cassie. I can’t pretend to know what she was feeling. I only know the truth of what’s here in front of me—my son. He needs me to take care of him now, no matter what happens in the future.”

She looked into the bassinet as the baby stirred. “Yes. First things first.”

“I doubt the paper she signed will hold up in court.”

“I doubt it, too. But it’s a start. You need to have him checked by a pediatrician. You need his birth certificate as soon as it’s available. And he needs a name.” The baby’s eyes opened. Cassie smiled at him. “You need a name, don’t you, sweet pea?”

Heath lifted the baby out of the basket. “Daniel. Daniel Patrick.”

“That’s nice. Is there some significance?”

“My father’s name—before he turned hippie and started calling himself Journey.”

“You’re the product of hippies?” Cassie laughed.

He didn’t react, just stared at her for a few seconds, but she couldn’t figure out why.

“It’s the truth,” he said finally. “My mother calls herself Crystal. They live on a commune in New Hampshire.”

“Did you grow up there?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t wait to go away to college.”

There was fondness in his voice, though, indicating he might have resented his upbringing then but not now.

“They’re into macrobiotic diets,” he added.

“That’s grains and vegetables, isn’t it?”

“It’s cardboard.”

She smiled. “I like steak.”

“Me, too. And ordering in.”

Daniel started to fuss. Cassie clenched her hands. She wanted to hold him, but Heath hadn’t offered, so she leaned close and sang. “The itsy bitsy spider—”

“Don’t.”

Startled at his vehement tone, Cassie sat back. The baby wailed. “Don’t what?”

“Sing.” He bounced Daniel.

“Why not? Babies love singing. It calms them.”

“I don’t have to explain myself.” He tried to shush the baby, who had worked up a full head of steam.

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