As an evil traitor threatens to destroy the top-secret SPEAR agency, A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY continues….

Del Rogers

Strong and sensitive—with mesmerizing amber

eyes and a seductive smile.

SPEAR sharpshooter Del Rogers had learned the

hard way that love and marriage were off-limits to

a man like him. Still, playing white knight to the

beautiful and desirable Maggie Rice was one off-duty

assignment he couldn’t pass up.

Maggie Rice

A blond-haired, blue-eyed new mom who still

believes in fairy-tale endings.

Although the man of her dreams was awfully

secretive, Maggie couldn’t resist the powerful

allure of the gallant—and gorgeous—Del Rogers.

Why, she had him pegged as a real-life Prince

Charming! But this sweet-natured Cinderella was

holding out for promises of forever….

“Simon”

This menacing traitor seems to have more lives

than a cat. Now he’s about to make his move.

No matter how close SPEAR’s top agents get,

Simon is always one step ahead of them. Now this

diabolical archvillain is about to stage a full-frontal

attack. Anyone who dares to stand in his

way had better prepare for the fallout!

Dear Reader,

This is officially “Get Caught Reading” month, so why not get caught reading one—or all!—of this month’s Intimate Moments books? We’ve got six you won’t be able to resist.

In Whitelaw’s Wedding, Beverly Barton continues her popular miniseries THE PROTECTORS. Where does the Dundee Security Agency come up with such great guys—and where can I find one in real life? A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY is almost over, but not before you read about Cinderella’s Secret Agent, from Ingrid Weaver. Then come back next month, when Sharon Sala wraps things up in her signature compelling style.

Carla Cassidy offers a Man on a Mission, part of THE DELANEY HEIRS, her newest miniseries. Candace Irvin once again demonstrates her deft way with a military romance with In Close Quarters, while Claire King returns with a Renegade with a Badge who you won’t be able to pass up. Finally, join Nina Bruhns for Warrior’s Bride, a romance with a distinctly Native American feel.

And, of course, come back next month as the excitement continues in Intimate Moments, home of your favorite authors and the best in romantic reading.

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

Ingrid Weaver
Cinderella’s Secret Agent

To Deb and Kate, who know what this book means to me.

May you live long and prosper.

Dear Reader,

I was eight years old when I fell in love with the dashing spies in The Man From U.N.C.L.E. That summer, I transformed our back porch into my own top-secret spy headquarters using cardboard, old curtains and plenty of imagination…but instead of an international terrorist, I only caught the milkman. My hopes of a career in espionage ended, yet I’m still a die-hard fan of every action hero, from James Bond to Dirk Pitt. I enjoy writing novels of romantic suspense, so naturally I was thrilled when Silhouette invited me to participate in Intimate Moments’ twelve-book series, A YEAR OF LOVING DANGEROUSLY.

When I began to write Maggie and Del’s story in Cinderella’s Secret Agent, I discovered an unexpected side of the danger and excitement of cloak-and-dagger work. Fantasizing about falling in love with a secret agent is one thing, but just imagine the difficulties it would bring in reality. How on earth could a man who deals in deadly skullduggery hope to fit into the life of an ordinary woman? What happens when their two very different worlds collide?

I sincerely hope that you enjoy reading Cinderella’s Secret Agent as much as I enjoyed writing it!

All the best,

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Chapter 1

Agent Del Rogers was a hunter. For now his prey had eluded him, but a hunter has patience. He has self-control. And above all, a good hunter never takes the hunt personally.

Turning away from the hospital, Del forced his fists to relax. The reddened skin on the back of his hands twinged, and the patches on his arms where the hair had been singed off were beginning to itch, reminders of his last encounter with the man known as Simon. Yet Del had gotten off lightly compared to the agent he had just seen in the intensive care ward. The bomb in the warehouse last week had caught everyone off guard. The next meeting with Simon would be different. Next time, SPEAR would be ready.

He strode along the sidewalk, stretching his legs to work out the lingering aches in his muscles. Out of habit, he scanned his surroundings, yet he knew he wouldn’t spot his quarry here. Yellow cabs shouldered through the late afternoon traffic; car horns and sirens mingled with the background hum of Manhattan. A warm puff of air scented with yeast and oregano wafted briefly from the doorway of a pizzeria before it was swallowed by the pervasive metallic tang of exhaust.

It was April. The hunt for Simon had been going on for almost a year, but it was bound to end soon. SPEAR was gradually closing the net. The best operatives in the top-secret government agency had taken their turn at running Simon to ground. Despite the traitor’s uncanny ability to elude them, his hiding places were dwindling. Now it was only a matter of time before he walked into their trap.

On the corner beside the subway entrance, a splash of color against the iron railing caught Del’s eye. A flower vendor was sitting on an overturned bucket, hawking bunches of fresh daffodils. Del dug into his pocket and tossed a coin to the weathered old man.

“Thanks, sport,” the man muttered. He turned the coin over in his grimy hand. “Hey, what is this?”

“It’s a double eagle.”

“Ain’t got change for that,” he said, squinting at Del.

“Didn’t think you would. The last time I had one of those coins was three years ago in Juneau.”

As soon as Del said the prearranged code words, the flower seller shrugged and picked up a handful of daffodils. “You must have some hot date.”

“Uh-huh.” Del took the bouquet, running his fingertips over the stems until he felt the small plastic rectangle that was concealed there. He headed down the stairs to the subway, slipping the microcassette tape out of the flowers and into his pocket. He would have to wait until he met his partner, Bill Grimes, at the surveillance site before he could listen to the briefing on this tape. Like all the SPEAR briefing cassettes, it would erase as it played.

He was pulling the graveyard shift with Bill tonight. Del wasn’t being given any consideration for his burns and bruises, and he wasn’t asking for any. At this stage of the chase, every available operative was needed to insure Simon didn’t slip away again.

The subway train squealed to a halt at Del’s stop, jarring his swollen knee. He ignored the discomfort and blended into the crowd that spilled onto the street. He walked a block east, crossed Third Avenue, then paused in front of a shoe store, using the reflection in the glass to check out the passersby. Satisfied that he hadn’t been followed, he glanced at the daffodils he still held. His lips quirked as he remembered the flower vendor’s comment.

Being holed up in an apartment all night with Bill, staring through a sniper’s scope, wasn’t Del’s idea of a hot date. And he was certain Bill wouldn’t appreciate the flowers.

But Del knew someone who would. He lifted his head, his gaze going to the coffee shop on the other side of the street. Maggie was the kind of woman who would love flowers. She would be thrilled to get these daffodils. He could picture how she would smile and stick them in a sundae glass and chatter about how yellow is such a happy color….

No. A bouquet of flowers could carry a message in more than one way. And Del couldn’t afford to give any woman the wrong message, especially a woman like Maggie. She deserved better than that. Life hadn’t dealt her a good hand, yet she was making the best of it, facing her problems with a good-natured determination that he had to admire.

If things had been different, if he had known her eight years ago, he might have considered giving her more than just a bouquet.

Del wavered for an instant, then tossed the daffodils into a trash can and crossed the street.

“Hey, Maggie. Your cowboy’s here again.”

Maggie Rice stood on her toes to peer through the round window in the swinging door. From here she had a good view of the coffee shop and the patron who had just sat down. Although his back was toward her, she recognized him instantly, doubtless due to the sudden thump of her pulse.

Clearing her throat, Maggie smoothed her apron over the front of her maternity dress. “Wrong on both counts, Joanne,” she said. “He’s not mine, and he’s no cowboy. Do you see boots or a Stetson anywhere? And have you ever heard even a trace of a drawl?”

“Guys like that don’t need the props.” Joanne Herbert chewed her bubble gum noisily, blew a bubble and popped it against the roof of her mouth. “The cowboy thing is part of his aura.”

Maggie knew exactly what Joanne meant. Of average height and average build, in his neatly pressed khakis and his polo shirt, Del sure didn’t resemble the Marlboro Man. Yet there was something so essentially, well, male about him. He moved with the easy self-confidence of a lone wolf, his body loose, his gaze always alert, as if he were some legendary gunslinger, scanning the horizon for his next target.

Oh, Lord. The pregnancy must be affecting her brain. Del? A gunslinger? He was a nice guy, probably one of the last ones left in New York.

“And he is, too, yours,” Joanne went on.

“Oh, get real,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes. “No man’s going to give me a second glance, even if I was interested. Which I’m not. Alan cured me of that. And right now it would be absolutely ludicrous to even think about—”

“Why, Maggie, I meant he’s your customer, that’s all. He’s sitting at your table, isn’t he? What on earth did you think I meant?” Joanne chuckled. “But come to think of it, it is kind of a karmic coincidence that he always manages to show up on your shifts.”

Maggie groaned. “Don’t you have a mantra to chant or some coffee to spill?”

“Nah, I already did that. But now that you reminded me, I do have some buns to burn.” Joanne pressed her cheek alongside Maggie’s to look through the window. “Mmm, speaking of great buns…”

Maggie bumped her friend with her hip. “Joanne, behave yourself. If you keep drooling like that I’ll have to get out the mop. Wet floors can be hazardous.”

“He looks…hungry.”

“Well, duh. Why else would he be here?”

“Besides drumming up business for us by making everyone’s mouth water?”

“If you like him so much, why don’t you serve him?”

“He’s sitting at your table,” Joanne said smugly. “Besides, I know for a fact it would hurt Laszlo’s feelings if I ran off to a rodeo with Mel here.”

“His name’s Del, not Mel,” Maggie said.

“With those looks, anyone could get confused.”

No, Joanne was wrong, Maggie thought. Del’s looks couldn’t be confused with anyone else’s. With his hawklike nose and his striking amber eyes, he was a one of a kind. He wasn’t handsome in a classic movie star or magazine model sort of way, but he was…appealing. Yes, that was a good word for it. Yet unlike most attractive men, he seemed oblivious to his appearance. As a matter of fact, his short-clipped hair and casual, nondescript clothes weren’t meant to draw attention.

But he drew hers. Oh, yes. No matter what shape the rest of her was in, her eyes were functioning just fine. She felt a blush rising in her cheeks and sighed. Was this what she had been reduced to? Lurking behind a door in order to ogle a customer?

He was most likely married anyway. She seemed to have a knack for finding the ones who were married. But it didn’t make any difference. Considering her condition, ogling anyone was worse than ludicrous, it was downright gross.

“Uh, Maggie?”

“Mmm?”

Joanne squeaked a fingertip across the round windowpane in the door. “You better get to work, girl. You’re fogging up the glass.”

Maggie sputtered and turned to make a retort, but Joanne was quicker. Grabbing Maggie by the shoulders, she gave her a gentle shove. The door swung open and Maggie stumbled into the coffee shop with all the grace of an elephant in a tutu.

Laszlo looked up from the grill, his broad forehead creasing in a frown. “Maggie, you okay?”

“Sure. Thanks.” She made an exaggerated show of grabbing the edge of the lunch counter for balance, then grinned. “It’s no wonder I keep tripping over my feet. I haven’t seen them for months so sometimes I forget they’re there.”

He shook his head as he gestured with his spatula. “You shouldn’t be working,” he growled in his thick Hungarian accent. “You should be home.”

“What? And give up all this? I plan to put the baby through college on the tips I’ve been getting lately.”

The ends of Laszlo’s drooping mustache dipped farther. “You’re the stubborn woman, Maggie Rice. Five days, that is all. Then I don’t want to see more of you until after the kid is born.”

“More? Now there’s a scary thought. Any more of me and I won’t fit through the front door anyway.” Maggie gave him a cheeky wink and picked up her order pad.

Five days, and then she would stay home. In spite of what she’d just told her boss, she was looking forward to the time off. As much as she needed the money this job brought, she had a million things still to do to get the apartment ready and less than a month to go.

“Hello, Maggie. How are you and Junior today?”

She pulled her pencil from behind her ear as she stopped in front of Del’s table. As always, his rich voice set off an odd reaction deep inside. It was his tone, so steady and calm and masculine—

Get real, she admonished herself. Sure, he was a nice guy, and they had shared many casual conversations over the weeks since he’d started coming in. Yet she didn’t know all that much about him, other than he liked his eggs over easy and his coffee black and seemed to have a schedule that coincided with hers. There was no reason for her pulse to flutter whenever she saw him.

Actually, it wasn’t only her pulse that felt fluttery now. Her entire body was…restless. Yes, that’s how she would describe it. She had been having tremors and tingles all day. She focused on her order pad, hoping the strange feeling in her lower stomach would pass. “We couldn’t be better. She had the hiccups this morning, but she settled down when I changed the radio station. She hates rap.”

“She?” Del repeated. “So you think the baby’s a girl today?”

“It’s just a feeling I have. It really doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

“Have you settled on any names yet, Maggie?”

“Not yet. I want to wait until I see my baby’s face before I decide.” She touched her fingertips to the bulge that pushed at the front of her dress. “Oh, it’s going to be so good to finally hold her in my arms.”

A pair of customers squeezed past on their way out. Del shifted his chair. “Tan sandals.”

Puzzled at the change in conversation, she glanced up. “Excuse me?”

Tiny laugh lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. “On your feet. You claimed you haven’t seen them lately, so I thought I’d bring you up to date.”

He had a wonderful smile, she thought. He didn’t flash it all that often, but when he did it added a hint of boyish charm to the cowboy toughness of his face. “Thanks,” she said.

“How did you manage to paint your toenails pink?”

“Would you believe a mirror and a brush with a very long handle?” She moved her hand from her stomach to the small of her back. The ache that had started building there this morning was getting worse—she must have strained a muscle somehow. “I could have skipped the polish, though. If the fashion police haven’t brought me in by now for this tent I’m wearing, I doubt if they’ll notice my toes. Heck, I can’t even see them.” She winced.

His gaze sharpened. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Maggie…”

“Really, Del. Aches and twinges are perfectly normal when a person’s carrying around this kind of weight. Want your usual?”

“I’ll settle for a coffee.” He glanced around. “The place isn’t that busy yet. Why don’t you take a break?”

“Can’t. Laszlo will fry me and put me in a burger.”

“I heard that!” the cook called.

She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “He hates it when I give away his secret recipes.”

“How bad is the twinge in your back?” Del persisted.

“On a scale of pinprick to root canal, it’s a stubbed toe. Relax,” she said, lifting her arm to tuck her pencil behind her ear. “I’m healthy as a—” She sucked in her breath. The pencil dropped to the floor. “Oh!”

“Maggie? What is it?”

“My back,” she said through her teeth. The pain took her by surprise, clutching at her spine and radiating to her belly.

Del surged to his feet and came around the table. “You’d better sit down,” he said, taking her arm.

She ignored the suggestion but she did lean into his support as the wave of agony gradually ebbed. Shaken, she exhaled hard and gave him a wobbly smile. “No, I’m fine. It’s gone now.”

Del looked carefully into her face. He didn’t release his hold on her arm. Instead he guided her to the nearest chair and gently helped her to sit. “What’s your doctor’s number, Maggie?”

“Please don’t make a big deal out of this,” she said, attempting to get up. “I shouldn’t have painted my toenails, that’s all.”

Del stopped her from rising by placing his hands on her shoulders. There was no humor in his amber gaze, only concern. “If it’s only a strained muscle, the pain won’t come back if you don’t move. We’ll just wait here for a few minutes and see what happens, okay?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said. “My due date’s weeks away, so I’m not about to give birth or anything.”

Taking the chair across from her, Del directed a look toward Laszlo. “Maggie’s taking a break.” Although he didn’t raise his voice, his tone was that of a man accustomed to giving orders. And unlike Maggie, no one else argued with him.

Joanne bustled forward and plunked a glass of water on the table for Maggie, leaning over to feel her forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay, hon? I can cover for you if you want to leave early.”

The caring in her friend’s gaze unexpectedly brought the heat of tears to Maggie’s eyes. She blinked hard. God, the pregnancy hormones were making a mess of her emotions. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Really.”

And she would. Yes, indeed. Things could be so much worse. She had her friends. She had this job, at least for the next few days, and she had a home. And most important, in less than a month, she was going to have a child.

A child. A baby to love. Sometimes the wonder of it took her breath away.

“It won’t be long now.”

At Del’s softly spoken comment, Maggie smiled. He must have guessed the direction of her thoughts. “Spring is such a perfect time to have a baby, don’t you think?” she asked.

“What makes you say that?”

“Spring is when nature renews itself after the winter. The tulips are blooming, the cherry trees are blossoming, birds are returning to build their nests.”

“I see what you mean. It’s like an affirmation of life.”

“Exactly.” She beamed. “It’s my favorite season. Do you have any kids, Del?”

He hesitated. For an instant, a shadow of something dark flickered over his expression.

Oh, God. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t have asked him such a personal question. Sure, they were on a first-name basis, but that was because she didn’t know his last name. Just because he’d been eating here regularly for almost two months didn’t mean she had the right to pry into his personal life. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“No,” he answered finally. “I don’t have any kids. I’ve never been married.”

“Oh.” She shifted uncomfortably. The ache was building in her back again.

“My sister has half a dozen, though.”

She pressed her palm over her breasts. She seemed to have trouble taking a deep breath. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. The last two were twins. They keep her and her husband busy.”

“I can imagine. Wow. What a lucky woman your sister is. I’d love to have a whole houseful someday…oh!”

Del caught her hands. He might have said something, but Maggie couldn’t hear it over the rush of her pulse in her ears. She gripped his fingers, thankful for someone to hang on to as the wave crashed into the small of her back and stretched around to her stomach again.

It was harder than the other one, and it lasted longer. By the time it receded, Maggie could feel beads of sweat dampening her temples. She panted to catch her breath. “Whoa,” she muttered. “Did you see anyone behind me? Feels like someone smacked me in the back with a baseball bat. Heck, where’s a cop when you need one?”

Del’s face was so close she could see flecks of gold in his amber eyes. He looked at her carefully. “Maggie, I don’t believe that was a muscle ache from painting your toenails.”

“Could have been from moving the furniture. The crib was delivered yesterday, and I had to rearrange some things to make room for—”

“Maggie, I think you’re in labor.”

She released his hands and grabbed the front of his shirt. “I can’t be. I still have three weeks to go. There are too many things I have to do. The apartment’s a mess. I haven’t even set up the crib and I didn’t get to the laundry and—”

“Everything else can wait. I suspect this baby won’t.”

“But it’s too early.”

“You need to get to a hospital.”

“It’s just a false alarm. They talked about that in the prenatal classes. Mild contractions are perfectly normal in the last trimester, so there’s no point rushing anywhere until I’m sure—” She felt a distinct pop deep inside. Seconds later, warm fluid gushed between her thighs. She dipped her head, watching in disbelief as the liquid ran down her leg to form a clear puddle around her sandals. “Oh, my,” she whispered.

Crockery hit the floor nearby in a teeth-rattling crash. Joanne rushed to her side. “Maggie! Oh, my God! Is that…”

“I think my water just broke.”

“Oh, my God! Laszlo!” Joanne screamed. “She’s having the baby!”

“No. She can’t. This is the restaurant. Maggie, you can’t have baby here.”

The other customers in the coffee shop, alerted by the commotion, turned their heads to get a better look. Conversation halted briefly, then recommenced with an excited babble.

Joanne spun around, wringing her hands. “Oh, my God, oh, my God. What do we do?”

Maggie couldn’t reply. Another contraction caught her in a vise, turning her abdomen to steel. She moaned, tightening her hold on Del’s shirt. One of his buttons flew off and hit the floor.

“Laszlo, call nine one one,” Del ordered. “Now.”

It seemed to last forever. The world shrank behind a red haze as her entire body seized. Maggie tasted a moment of panic. This was no false alarm. It was happening. It really was happening.

She was going to have the baby.

The panic retreated as quickly as it had arisen. What was she afraid of? This is what she wanted. The months of waiting were over. Everything she had gone through—the heart-ache of Alan’s desertion, the struggle to stretch her budget, the discomfort of this pregnancy—all of it faded to insignificance at the enormity of what was taking place.

She was going to have the baby.

Now.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks as the contraction retreated. They could have been from the pain, but they also could have been from the joy. A child to love, her own little family of two. It blew her away.

Del wiped her cheeks with his knuckles. “It’ll be all right, Maggie. Don’t be afraid. Everything will be fine.”

“I’m not afraid.” She grinned, licking the tears from the corners of her mouth. “How could I be afraid? My God, Del! I’m having a baby. My baby. Isn’t that the most fabulous thing in the world?”

The room in the back of the diner was crammed with boxes of surplus supplies and a battered metal desk where Laszlo did his bookkeeping. It was dim and stuffy, but at least it was private. Del knelt beside Maggie as she lay on the makeshift mattress he’d fashioned out of a flattened cardboard box and layers of towels. Slipping his arm beneath her back, he propped her head and shoulders up on the cushion he’d ripped from Laszlo’s chair. “How’s this?”

“Better,” she said. “Thanks. This is really nice of you, Del. Laszlo and Joanne looked so upset, I’m glad you thought of…bringing me back…here…oh!”

“Maggie?”

She inhaled sharply, her face flushing red. “Uh. Here…comes…another one.”

Del caught her hand, breathing with her as she worked her way through the contraction. Where the hell was that ambulance? The pains were coming fast and hard now, three minutes apart and more than a full minute long. Beneath the thin fabric of Maggie’s maternity dress, her abdomen was clenching into the shape of a loaf. The standard SPEAR firstaid training didn’t include any obstetrics, and this situation was a far cry from the calvings Del had witnessed on his parents’ farm, but he was fairly certain the baby’s birth was imminent.

He glanced at the clock on the wall as the contraction finally eased. Longer than the last one. Damn. “The paramedics should be here any minute.”

“She’s as impatient as I am,” Maggie said.

Del rubbed his palm lightly over her taut abdomen and shifted his gaze to her face. “I think you’re right about that.”

“My baby. She must know how much I want to see her.” She exhaled shakily and smiled.

Del barely saw the way Maggie’s dark blond hair was plastered to her forehead, or how her features tightened from the agony her body was going through. Her smile was so radiant, it eclipsed everything else.

The smile turned to a bared-teeth grimace as she rode out another pain. Del did what he could to help her through the next contraction, and each one after that, encouraging her to breathe while her body worked and then using conversation to distract her during the brief respites.

Yet he didn’t have to do all that much—she was a marvel of courage. He had known seasoned agents who couldn’t handle pain as well as Maggie Rice. This woman was refusing to let anything dampen her spirit.

But that didn’t really surprise him. He’d been admiring Maggie’s spirit since the first time he’d seen her. She always had a warm smile and a pleasant word for everyone. Open, caring and genuinely kind, she was a sharp contrast to the world he inhabited.

That was why he felt so drawn to her. He’d started coming to the coffee shop because it was convenient, situated only a few blocks from the surveillance site he and Bill were working. It hadn’t taken him long to learn the details of the pregnant waitress’s predicament. She’d been seduced and abandoned by a married man. Hers was a hard luck story that could have turned any other woman bitter.

Yet there was nothing bitter about Maggie. She never failed to make a special fuss over any children who happened to come into the restaurant, and on more than one occasion Del had seen her slip an extra sandwich to a customer who looked down-and-out. The camaraderie she shared with the rest of the staff was more typical of a small town than a big city. And there had even been times when she’d brought in flowers to put in the little juice glasses to brighten up the tables.

She would have liked those daffodils. But he couldn’t give her the wrong idea. He couldn’t get close to her or get involved in her life. Because of his job…

Oh, hell. It was too late to think about that now. He was already involved up to his elbows. If the ambulance didn’t arrive in the next five minutes—

“Del!” Maggie cried, her eyes widening.

He checked the clock. The last contraction had scarcely finished and already her body was being contorted by another one. “Hang on,” he urged. “The paramedics are on their way.”

“I can…feel…something…” Her words ended in a groan.

“Maggie?”

She clutched his hand hard enough for her short nails to draw blood. “Something’s happening.”

Until now, he’d endeavored to let her preserve some modesty, but the distress in her voice told him this wasn’t the time to worry about the niceties. He pried her fingers loose from his hand and lifted the hem of her dress past her hips.

One look and he realized the birth wasn’t merely imminent, it was already in progress.

There would be no help from that other waitress, Joanne. She had turned green merely at the sight of Maggie’s water breaking. The cook was almost as bad. And Del wasn’t going to trust Maggie to some stranger in the restaurant. Ignoring the fact that he was essentially a stranger, he positioned himself between her feet.

Maggie felt as if her body were being ripped open with each successive contraction, but she kept her lips pressed tightly together to keep the scream inside. She didn’t want her scream to be the first sound her baby heard. She wanted her child to know she was loved and welcomed and cherished…but oh, God, she couldn’t endure this much longer….

“I can see the head,” Del said. “You’re right. Your baby is as impatient as you are.”

She felt Del’s hands on her thighs, gently easing her legs apart. She didn’t care that she barely knew him—it didn’t enter her mind. Modesty was irrelevant. She was running on instinct. “You can see her?” she gasped.

“Yes.”

“Oh, God. I want to see her, too.”

“Just keep on doing what you’re doing. You’ll get there.”

The urge to push was overwhelming. Maggie held her breath, giving in to the command of her body. Time shrank to a bright pinpoint. Dimly she was aware of Del’s calm encouragement, the warm touch of his hands, the strength he was giving her just by his presence…but all of her thoughts, her energy, her being, were focused on the task nature had given her.

“That’s it, Maggie,” Del murmured. “A little more, just a little more.”

She didn’t know how long it lasted. She lost track of everything outside the intimate connection between her and the man she was trusting to deliver her baby. Gradually, her body no longer seemed to be fighting her. Every muscle was working, straining, tightening, pushing…until suddenly, just when she thought she would tear in half, the pressure eased.

And the room was filled with the most glorious sound Maggie had heard in her life. It was the tiny, tremulous wail of her newborn child.

Exhausted, drenched in sweat, Maggie somehow found the strength to lift her head.

Del was kneeling between her legs, his large hands carefully cradling a beautiful, wrinkled, red-faced, squirming miracle. “It’s a girl,” he said, his voice hushed. His gaze met hers, his amber eyes unabashedly moist. “Congratulations, Maggie. You have a daughter.”

Chapter 2

“‘They also serve who only stand and wait,’” Bill Grimes intoned. With his bald head and habitually benign expression, he could have passed for an absentminded English professor, an image Bill deliberately played on with the pipe he held between his teeth and his penchant for issuing quotations.

Del shut off the tape player and ejected the cassette. It was barely past midnight and Bill was already into Milton. This was going to be a long night. “I hate to admit it, but that about sums things up.”

Bill grunted and adjusted the focus on the telescope he was using. The adjustment wasn’t really necessary—the instrument was already carefully positioned on a tripod and calibrated for the optimum range—but it gave him the impression that he was doing something.

Del understood his partner’s state of mind all too well. Still, good hunters had patience, and they were going to need a lot of it. The briefing tape he and Bill had just listened to had come directly from Jonah, the head of SPEAR, so they knew it was the best information possible. The situation was essentially the way Del had figured it: Simon had gone underground, but he was running out of places to hide. That’s why Del, Bill and the rest of the surveillance team would have to stay where they were. Stand and wait.

Del looked around at the forest of equipment that crammed the small apartment. Bill’s telescope was about the lowest-tech piece here. The steel shelf by the back wall held night vision binoculars, infrared detectors, cameras, weapons and body armor. Two video cameras and a parabolic microphone were hooked up to a bank of recording equipment, all of it focused on the window of the apartment across the courtyard.

A studio apartment identical in design to this one, the place hadn’t undergone any major renovations in years. Apart from a countertop fridge and a range in the tiny kitchen, and half a dozen folding chairs, it was unfurnished. There was little to recommend it to a potential tenant…other than the location. Situated in midtown Manhattan near the East River, it happened to have an excellent view of one of New York’s most famous landmarks: the shimmering glass cereal-box-shaped structure that housed the headquarters of the United Nations.

Weeks ago SPEAR intelligence had learned that particular apartment across the courtyard had been rented for Simon’s use. What they didn’t yet know was why.

It had to have something to do with the proximity to the UN, that much was obvious. But why? Was Simon’s next target some diplomat or politician? Was he going to use the apartment’s vantage point to coordinate an assault or hide a sniper? Until now, all Simon’s schemes had been aimed at destroying SPEAR itself. Had he changed his tactics?

Del rubbed his face wearily. There were too many questions. With luck, this surveillance would bring them some of the answers.

“By the way, what happened to your hands?” Bill asked without lifting his head. “I hadn’t thought those burns were so deep.”

Del focused on his hands. To his surprise, he noticed the healing pink skin behind his knuckles was marred by crescent-shaped gouges in several places, deep enough to be noticeable even in the dim light that filtered through the window.

He felt a moment’s confusion before understanding dawned. The marks were from Maggie’s fingernails. She must have done it when she’d been holding on to him during those contractions.

Immediately, the simmering frustration of his hunt for Simon faded. Despite the state-of-the-art equipment that surrounded him and the grim reality of his job here, Del felt an echo of Maggie’s presence. Her warmth, her twinkling good nature seemed to brighten the stark apartment.

It was such an unlikely juxtaposition. Only a few hours ago he had shared in the most basic event in life, the birth of a child. Now here he was immersed in the complex business of international terrorism. His world and Maggie’s world couldn’t get much further apart than that.

“Those cuts aren’t from the explosion,” he said. One corner of his mouth quirked upward in a half smile. “They have nothing to do with Simon. They’re from something else entirely.”

“Something else? Like what?”

“Do you remember that short blond waitress who works in the diner on the next block?”

“The diner that Polish guy runs?”

“Hungarian. Laszlo’s place.”

“Blond waitress,” Bill said, frowning into the eyepiece. “You don’t mean the one that’s pregnant, do you?”

“Yeah. Maggie.”

“I didn’t know you went in for pregnant women.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it? You’ve been eating there practically every day since we started this gig. What happened? Didn’t she like the tip you left her?”

“She had her baby tonight.”

Now Bill did lift his head, peering at Del over the telescope. “You’re kidding.”

“She went into labor right there at the coffee shop. She held my hand during the contractions. I doubt if she realized how hard she was gripping.”

“So you were there?”

“That’s right.”

“Geez, what a place to have that happen. The ambulance would have needed to use the sidewalk to get through the traffic.”

“The ambulance got there too late. I delivered the baby.”

“Holy—” Bill removed his pipe and pointed the stem toward Del. “You delivered a baby?”

“Yes. It was a girl.” He paused. “She has blond hair and blue eyes just like her mother.”

“Are they all right?”

“They’re both doing fine.”

“Good God, what do you know about delivering babies?”

“There wasn’t that much I needed to know. It was Maggie who did the work. All I really did was catch.” He thought about the look of sheer wonder that had lit up Maggie’s face when she’d gazed at her daughter for the first time. He cleared his throat, surprised at the sudden thickness he felt there. “Bill, it was incredible.”

“If you say so.”

“I was the first person to touch that child. She took her first breath while I held her in my hands.” He turned his palms upward. “I actually saw the exact moment when she filled her lungs with air.”

“And you said she’s all right? She’s healthy?”

“That’s what the paramedics said. She has all her fingers and toes. And she’s not too small, either. She felt like she weighs about the same as a nine-millimeter Colt submachine gun with a thirty-two round clip.” He smiled with satisfaction. “That would put her at over six pounds. Not bad for a few weeks early.”

Bill shook his head. “I just can’t believe this.”

“Did I mention her eyes were blue? She looked right at me, and her eyes hardly crossed at all.”

“Maggie?”

“The baby. That’s pretty smart for a newborn. She’s going to be a bright kid.”

“Listen to yourself,” Bill said, chuckling. “This really got to you, didn’t it?”

“It was an experience I’ll never forget. I felt…privileged to be there.”

“Privileged? I would have been scared spitless.”

That made Del laugh. Bill might look like a harmless middle-aged professor, but he was as stolidly fearless as a bulletproof vest. Del couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather have covering his back in a tight situation. “Yeah, right.”

“You think I jest?” Bill asked. “I’d rather juggle six pounds of Semtex with a nitro fuse than take on an infant.”

“You’d like this infant,” Del said. “She’s a feisty little thing, just like her mother.”

“Spoken just like a proud papa.” Still chuckling, Bill put his pipe in his mouth and returned to the telescope.

The shaft of pain took Del off guard. Papa? No, not him. Holding Maggie’s child would be as close as he would ever get to that. His grin faded.

“And speaking of the papa, where is the bastard?” Bill asked.

“From what I heard around the coffee shop, Maggie hasn’t seen him since last Christmas.”

“She’s going after him for child support, isn’t she?”

“Not that I know of. She seems determined to manage on her own.”

“Poor kid. She’s going to have a rough time, raising that baby by herself.”

That was true. Maggie had been working double shifts in order to save up money for the baby. It was going to be a struggle for her to cope. Ideally, a child should have two parents, a mother and a father, a team.

Maggie was intelligent enough to be aware of the problems she faced. Her persistent good humor wasn’t from ignorance of what lay ahead, it was from determination to make the best of it. She was a remarkable woman.

Scowling, Del went over to pick up the metal case he’d left on the equipment shelf. There was no point dwelling on Maggie. He had already gotten more involved in her life than he should have. And he shouldn’t let himself get carried away by those feelings her baby had stirred. He’d left all that behind when he’d joined SPEAR.

He opened the case and gazed at the gleaming pieces of wood and metal that were nestled in the pockets of foam rubber. With an ease of motion that was as practiced as breathing, Del assembled the components into his custom-made sniper’s rifle. When it was done, he held the weapon in his hands, his fingers fitting themselves around the familiar shape.

Like all the other operatives in the top-secret government agency of SPEAR, he accepted whatever assignment he was given and went wherever he was posted. It made no difference whether it was deep infiltration or simple surveillance, he did his job. But his specialty, the real talent that had brought him to the attention of SPEAR in the first place, was his uncanny ability with a rifle. He was the agency’s best sharpshooter, the one they called in for the impossible shot.

This was who he was, Del thought. This was what he did. He was proud of his skill. With this rifle and the right setup, he could shoot the weapon out of a terrorist’s hand or disable any getaway vehicle. He knew all the vulnerable spots on everything from a Learjet to a so-called bulletproof limo, and for those special occasions when no other option was open to him, he knew, too, within a millimeter how closely a bullet had to graze a man’s skull in order to knock him out.

He had a perfect record—in his eight years with the agency, he hadn’t taken a single life.

Yet even as he felt the familiar weight of the rifle in his hands, he remembered how these same hands had cradled Maggie’s baby. Instead of smooth wood and cold metal, he felt the slippery, shaved-velvet softness of the newborn’s skin. And as he settled himself at his post to one side of the window, his mind kept returning to the back room of the diner and the sight of Maggie’s tears as he’d placed her daughter in her arms.

His presence at the birth had been nothing but a fluke. He shouldn’t want to see them again, or worry about how they were doing, or wonder how Maggie was going to manage on her own. He had no business thinking about either Maggie or her baby.

That’s what he told himself, anyway. Yet over the next few hours, he failed to get his thoughts of her out of his head.

After what he and Maggie had shared, how could he shrug the whole thing off and go on as if nothing had happened? That’s what the baby’s father had done, turning his back on Maggie at the time she needed him most. Granted, it wouldn’t be wise for Del to get further involved, but it was only natural for him to feel a certain amount of responsibility for Maggie and her baby’s welfare.

It wouldn’t do any harm to check on them. That would be the decent thing to do, wouldn’t it?

“‘Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace.’”

At Bill’s murmured comment, Del swallowed a sigh.

From Milton to Shakespeare’s Macbeth? It was going to be a long night.

Maggie ran her index finger over the back of her baby’s hand, marveling yet again at the tiny perfection of her daughter. Perfect little nails, perfect pink dimpled knuckles, absolutely perfect. Not even one day old, yet already her presence filled the room. Heck, more than the room, it filled Maggie’s entire life.

“I love you, sweetheart,” she whispered, moving her hand to the baby’s head. She ran her fingertips over the wispy blond curls, inhaling deeply as she absorbed the warm, fresh baby scent that rose from her scalp. “I love you so much. Every day, for the rest of my life, I want you to know that.”

The baby’s mouth pursed in her sleep. Maggie didn’t even consider putting her down in the plastic-sided bassinet that rested beside the hospital bed. After those long months of anticipation, she didn’t want to squander one minute of the chance to hold her baby in her arms.

For what had to be the hundredth time that day, Maggie felt her eyes brim with tears. Had she thought the mood swings of pregnancy were bad? Now her body was bubbling with postpartum hormones. All she had to do was look at her child and the happiness simply overflowed.

“My child,” she said, marveling at the way the word tasted on her tongue. She’d had months to prepare for this, but she was still trying to wrap her mind around the concept. Nothing she had read or heard could possibly have prepared her for this feeling that was growing in her heart.

Maternal love was no myth. Her child was no longer connected physically to her, but another, far stronger bond had already formed. It was an emotional tie that no doctor’s shears could cut.

Loving Alan had been a mistake. She had been seduced by his smooth talk and clever hands and her own dreams of a husband and family. When she had discovered she was pregnant, she’d been overjoyed. He hadn’t. That’s when she discovered he already had children…and a wife.

Yes, Alan had been a mistake, but Maggie could never regard her baby as one. This child was a gift.

Sniffing hard, Maggie turned her head to wipe her eyes against the pillowcase, stirring up the boiled cotton smell of the bedding. Normally, she hated hospitals. She did her best to avoid them after spending so much time in them as a young girl. Strangely enough, though, she didn’t feel a breath of uneasiness now. The bad memories had been swept away by a tidal wave of good ones.

The other bed in the double room was empty. The woman who had occupied it had gone home this morning, along with her new son. Her husband and their other two children had come to fetch them—it had been a giddy, noisy celebration as they’d needed to take two trips to carry all the flowers and gifts to their car. They had all waved to Maggie and wished her well, then disappeared into the corridor, a cloud of bright foil balloons bobbing behind them.

Someday, it would be nice to belong to a family like that. A houseful of children to lavish with love, a husband to share her hopes and dreams…deep in her heart, that’s what Maggie really wanted.

Someday. But not today. Today—right now—was what mattered. That was Maggie’s approach to life. It was how she had learned to cope. As the old proverb went, the longest journey begins with a single step. And at this moment, Maggie had never been happier.

“You and me, sweetheart,” she murmured. “We’ll have more love between the two of us than a family of ten, you’ll see.” She dried her cheek against the pillow again, then focused on her baby’s features one by one. Sweetheart. Pumpkin. Darling. Her daughter was almost a day old. She really should settle on a name.

“Who do you look like?” she mused. “You have a mouth like a rosebud. Shall I call you Rose? Rose Rice?”

The baby waved her fist in a jerky movement, bumping herself in the nose. Her forehead wrinkled briefly.

“Okay, not Rose,” Maggie said. “Maybe I should call you Buttercup, because of your hair. It’s a beautiful color.” She tilted her head and smiled. “No, don’t worry, I wouldn’t saddle you with a name like that. How about…Angel. My little gift from heaven. Angel. Angela.” She sighed. “No, that makes me think of the Angela who lived next door when I was six. She used to trap cats in the garbage cans.”

Yawning widely, the baby relaxed into the crook of Maggie’s arm.

“Maybe I should call you Jewel,” she said. “Because you’re so precious.”

There was a quiet rap on the door. Maggie glanced up. When she saw who it was, she felt another spurt of tears.

This was crazy. It didn’t seem to take much to set her off, but the mere glimpse of the man in the doorway made her heart turn over.

But maybe it wasn’t that crazy. After all, he’d been the one who had shared the most incredible experience of her life. He’d held her daughter even before she had. Until yesterday, when he’d been nothing more than an attractive face and a good tipper, she had been uncomfortable with her reaction to him. Today she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather see.

Smiling, Maggie motioned him into the room with a nod. “Hi, Del.”

“Hello, Maggie.” He paused in the doorway, pushing his hands into the pockets of his navy windbreaker. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No, not at all.”

“I was in the neighborhood and I just wanted to check on how you were doing.”

“I’m fine. Great, in fact.”

His gaze went over her features, missing nothing. Apparently satisfied, he moved his gaze to the baby. “How is your daughter?”

“Wonderful. Perfect. Amazing.” She tipped her head again. “Come and see.”

He wavered. For a man who normally appeared so sure of himself, his hesitancy was…appealing. “She’s asleep,” he said.

“She’s beautiful when she’s asleep, isn’t she?”

“I wouldn’t want to wake her up.”

“I wish you would. Then you’d be able to see how beautiful she is when she’s awake.”

The skin around his eyes crinkled into the beginnings of a smile. “And that’s a completely objective opinion, right?”

“Of course. Anyone can see that she’s the most beautiful baby ever born.”

He moved to the side of the bed. He hesitated again, then looked at the child in her arms. “You’re right,” he said softly. “She’s something else.”

“She has lots of hair for a newborn, too. Isn’t it a gorgeous color?”

“Outstanding. Definitely outstanding.”

“She’s six pounds, seven ounces. That’s a good weight for being early. She doesn’t need to stay in an incubator or anything.”

“That’s great.”

“Actually, she might not have been all that early. My doctor suspects I might have miscalculated my dates.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Laszlo was right. I should have quit working earlier. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.”

“You had no control over that, Maggie. Your baby decided it was time to be born.”

“Del?”

He glanced up. “Yes?”

She swallowed hard, determined not to be a watering pot. “Thank you. For helping me. I know we’re practically strangers, and it must have been an awful shock for you, and I’m sorry for putting you through all of that, but…” She took a deep breath, knowing no words were adequate but needing to express her gratitude anyway. “Del, I want you to know I appreciate everything you did. The way you delivered my baby, the way you stayed with me until the ambulance came. You went way past being a Good Samaritan. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

He regarded her in silence. Gradually, the lean lines of his face relaxed. The smile that played around the corners of his eyes spread to his lips. “Maggie, I should be the one thanking you. It was a privilege to share in your daughter’s birth. I’ll never forget it.”

“Oh, Del,” she said, her chin trembling.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That was such a lovely thing to say.”

“You’re crying.”

“It’s the hormones. I can’t seem to stop.”

He took his hands from his pockets and grabbed a fistful of tissues from the box on the tray table. As matter-of-factly as he helped her the day before, he dabbed the tears from her cheeks. “The tears are nothing to worry about. I heard that every time my sister went through this, my brother-in-law ordered tissues by the case.”

“I’m just so—” Her voice caught on a sob. “So happy.”

“I have to confess the whole business left me a little choked up myself.”

“Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” They smiled at each other for a moment. Then he pushed his hand into his windbreaker pocket and withdrew a black and white object. “Here. I brought this for the baby.”

“What…” She looked at the toy on his palm, then picked it up with her free hand. It was a velveteen panda bear with big blue embroidered eyes, a black velvet nose and a pink satin bow tied around its neck. “Oh, it’s adorable!”

“The lady in the store said it would be safe for an infant if you removed the bow. There aren’t any other parts that could come off, and the bear’s washable, too.”

“She’ll love it. I love it. Thank you, Del. That was so sweet.” Her chin trembled again.

Before the tears could fall, he had a tissue poised and waiting.

Sniffing, she set the toy on the tray table and took the tissue from Del. “Thanks again. You must think I’m an idiot.”

“No, I think you’re a mother who loves her daughter very much.”

Shaking her head, she gave a watery laugh. “If you keep saying things like that, I’ll never stop crying.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no. I don’t mind. I’m savoring every second of this. Honest.” She wadded up the tissue and tossed it toward the wastebasket. “But you really didn’t have to bring anything—”

She drew in her breath as she caught sight of the back of his hand. The skin from his knuckles to his wrist was an angry, shiny red scattered with painful-looking gouges. “Oh, my gosh. What happened? Oh, no. Did I do that?”

“It’s nothing. I burned myself last week, that’s all.”

“How?”

He waited half a beat before he answered. “An accident at work.”

“An accident?”

He lifted one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “A coffeepot broke.”

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed yesterday,” she said, her gaze on the injured skin. “And you let me hold your hand. I’m so sorry, Del. That must have hurt.”

“Maggie, compared to what you went through, I barely noticed,” he said easily.

She had a strong urge to reach out and stroke his hand. She didn’t, of course. She might have held on to him yesterday, but those were special circumstances. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there, Del,” she said. “I mean, I took all the prenatal classes, but reading books and seeing videos can’t come close to the real thing. It’s a good thing you were so calm.”

“I’m glad I could help, although you were the one who deserves all the praise. You never let out so much as a whimper.”

“I couldn’t have. It would have driven away all of Laszlo’s customers.” Taking a steadying breath, she turned her gaze to the baby. “I was right about having a girl.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Did you say that your sister has six children?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How did she come up with six names? I can’t even settle on one.”

“She chose names from our family. Altogether we have thirteen aunts and uncles.”

“Wow. Big families must run in—” She chuckled. “I was going to say they run in the family.”

“It’s an old Missouri homesteader tradition, raising your own farmhands,” Del said dryly.

“You’re from a farm?” Maggie asked, intrigued.

“A long time ago,” he answered.

So he wasn’t a cowboy after all, she thought. He was a farmer. Well, both professions involved dealing with animals and squinting at the horizon, so it was close enough. Before she could pursue the topic, she sensed a flutter of movement against her arm. She looked at her daughter. The baby’s eyelids were flickering. “Oh, Del,” she murmured. “She’s waking up.”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to disturb her.”

“She’s been asleep for an hour—that’s a long time for a newborn. She’s such a clever girl. I told you she’s a genius, didn’t I?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, she is.” As her baby’s eyes blinked open, Maggie felt a rush of warmth. Would she ever tire of looking at this little miracle? She shifted on the bed to sit up straighter, smiling gratefully as Del rearranged the pillows behind her back. “Hello, precious,” she cooed. “How’s my little sweetie pie?”

Del leaned closer. Just as he had earlier, he hesitated for a moment, as if debating what to do next. Then he extended his index finger and gently stroked the baby’s cheek with his fingertip.

It must be the hormones, she thought, watching Del watch her baby. But the special warmth she felt flowing between her and her daughter expanded to envelop him, as well.

Simply saying thank-you hadn’t been anywhere near enough. He had delivered her baby, for God’s sake. Even the greeting-card companies didn’t have anything that covered that situation.

Would she have felt this way about the paramedics if they’d gotten there five minutes earlier and been the ones to deliver the baby? Or about her doctor if she’d given birth in the hospital? Somehow, she doubted it.

“Del,” she said.

He glanced up. His face wore a smile that on anyone else would be called sappy, yet on his starkly masculine features it could only be called…endearing. “You’re right, Maggie,” he said. “She’s beautiful when she’s awake, too.”

“Del, I—” She stopped suddenly, struck by a thought. “Delilah! That’s it.”

“What?”

“It feels right. More than right. It’s perfect.” She grinned. “Delilah Rice.”

“Delilah?” he repeated. “You mean as a name for your daughter?”

“Yes. What do you think?”

He stared at her. “Maggie…”

“It’s sounds great, doesn’t it? She doesn’t have any real aunts or uncles for me to name her after, so I can’t think of a better choice. You’re kind of an honorary uncle. When she grows up and asks me whose name she has, I’ll have a terrific story to tell her, won’t I?”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. He looked at the baby, then at her. “Maggie, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Delilah Rice,” she said, catching her daughter’s fist in her hand. “Hello, Delilah Rice. I’d like to introduce you to Del…”

Her words trailed off. It seemed absurd, but after everything that had happened, she still didn’t know Del’s last name.

“Rogers,” he said, smoothing over the moment before it could get awkward. “Del Rogers.”

“Del Rogers, meet the smartest, prettiest, sweetest, most lovable baby in the entire universe, Delilah Rice.”

His throat worked as he swallowed. Tentatively, he reached out and closed his hand over hers and Delilah’s. “Hello, Delilah.”

It was his voice, Maggie thought, so deep and utterly masculine. Or it could have been the gentleness of his touch. Or maybe it was the postpartum hormones. But for a moment she found herself wishing…

Wishing what? That things could be different? That she could have fallen in love with a nice man like Del instead of a rat like Alan? That Delilah wouldn’t have to grow up without a father?

Her emotions were scrambled from the trauma of childbirth, that’s all. She still knew next to nothing about Del. She wasn’t looking for a knight in shining armor—no matter how nice he might be—to ride in on a white horse and rescue her. Alan had taught her that much. She and her daughter would be fine, a family of two, with enough love to fill a lifetime.

Letting herself long for anything else was only asking for trouble.

Chapter 3

The whiskey bottle clinked as Del splashed more of the liquid into his glass. He’d finished his shift forty minutes ago. The drizzle that had been falling when he’d returned to his hotel room had strengthened to pattering rain, cloaking the dawn in gloom and guaranteeing another few hours of darkness. The routine of the Monarch Hotel was the same in New York as it was in the rest of the chain SPEAR owned— Del knew this because in the course of his assignments, he had stayed in practically every one of them. It would be after nine before the building came fully awake with the muffled thumps of closing doors and the squeaking rattle of the cleaning crew’s cart. That left him plenty of time to get good and drunk.

He returned the bottle to the bedside table, then leaned back against the headboard and cradled the glass in his hand. He hadn’t gotten drunk in years. In eight years, to be exact. But the Rogers clan was big on tradition, so maybe he would start one of his own.

Yes, maybe he should make it a tradition. Get blind drunk at least once a year, whether he needed it or not. It might do him good. Maybe if he loosened up more, took some time off from his job occasionally, he wouldn’t be hit so hard when something broke through to his emotions.

No, that wasn’t right. He was as human as the next guy. There was nothing wrong with his emotions. He had a full complement of them, he just didn’t need them for his job. When he was on the hunt, his success required the proverbial nerves of steel. Nothing bothered him, nothing distracted him when his survival and everyone else’s depended on his ability to keep calm in a crisis.

Cool as ice, he thought, taking a burning swallow. That’s the reputation he had built during his time with SPEAR. Evidently it spilled over into his off-duty hours, as well. After all, he’d kept his head in the back room of Laszlo’s diner, hadn’t he? Maggie had thanked him over and over for helping her through the baby’s birth. As a matter of fact, she’d been so grateful, she’d named her baby after him.

The baby.

Delilah.

The reason Del was getting drunk.

He took another swallow, grimacing at the taste of the liquor. This glassful was going down more easily than the last. Too bad it wasn’t working any faster.

He should have left well enough alone. He shouldn’t have gone to the hospital to see Maggie yesterday. He’d been around enough hospitals lately. He’d been at a different one the day before, visiting his colleague in intensive care. Until now, he’d never visited a maternity ward—he was more accustomed to dealing with how life ended than to seeing life begin.

No matter what he felt, he wasn’t responsible for Maggie or her baby. And as far as they were concerned, he was nothing but a bystander, so he had no right to accept the honor Maggie was giving him.

Maggie had named her baby Delilah out of gratitude. He had understood that. She had meant it as a favor. She couldn’t possibly have known about the sore spot she was probing with her innocent gesture.

It shouldn’t have bothered him. He had come to terms with his limitations almost a decade ago. He had a good life now. He was proud of his work. He enjoyed the loyalty he found among his fellow SPEAR agents and he relished the challenge of each new assignment. He didn’t need a namesake in order to feel fulfilled.

He shouldn’t have told Bill about the baby. It would have been wiser to keep his off-duty life completely separate from his work. Maggie’s world had nothing to do with the world of SPEAR. Yet Del had been so moved by his part in the child’s birth, he would have had to have mentioned it eventually. Too bad he hadn’t left it at that. But when he’d arrived for his shift tonight and Bill had asked about Maggie and the baby, Del had not only told him all about his visit to their hospital room, he’d let slip the name Maggie had chosen.

“Well, well, well,” Bill had said, drawing contemplatively on his pipe. “Delilah, huh? Congratulations, Papa.”

Del had tried to ignore the twinge of pain Bill’s ribbing had caused. “More like an uncle,” he’d said. “An honorary one.”

“That kid doesn’t need an uncle, she needs a daddy.”

“Maggie’s a strong woman. She’ll manage just fine. Anyone can see she loves her daughter to distraction.”

“Oh? How can you tell?”

“It’s all over her face whenever she talks about her.”

“Ah. You mean she gets a syrupy smile and her eyes go soft and unfocused?”

“Something like that.”

Bill let out a puff of aromatic smoke, watching it waft toward the ceiling. “The description fits you, as well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Next thing you know you’ll be carrying baby pictures around in your wallet and looking for a house with a white picket fence.”

“Bill…”

“Admit it, Del. You’re smitten with both of them.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“June’s a good time for a wedding, I hear. That’s only two months away.”

“I’m not marrying anyone.”

“Then why all the interest in the young single mother?”

“I’m not interested in her that way. I’m just trying to do the right thing. After the way she was seduced and abandoned by Delilah’s father, she could use a friend.”

“Aha! Methinks you doth protest too much.”

Del rolled his eyes at the mangled Shakespeare.

“Maggie’s going to look pretty good once she gets back into shape,” Bill continued. “Even when she was pregnant she was a cute little thing. You like blondes, don’t you?”

“I never really thought about it.”

“Why not? You’ve already seen what she has to offer when she—”

“That’s enough, Bill,” Del said, cutting him off. He was surprised by the anger he felt at his friend’s tasteless remark. “It wasn’t some voyeuristic fantasy, Bill. It was the birth of a child.”

“Lighten up, Del. No offense meant.”

“Anyone who would be thinking of sex under those circumstances would be sick. Perverted. I have too much respect for Maggie to even consider regarding her—”

“Hey, I said lighten up.” Bill eyed him warily. “I was only joking.”

Del glanced down and saw that he’d curled his hands into fists. It had been an instinctive, protective reaction. He made an effort to relax, taking a deep breath and wiping his palms on his pants legs. “Right.”

“You’re awfully touchy about it.”

“Maggie doesn’t deserve to be mocked that way.”

“Sorry.” Bill continued to scrutinize him. “This whole childbirth thing really did get to you, didn’t it?”

“It would get to anyone.”

“Ever thought about having kids of your own, Del?”

This time he was ready—the comment didn’t cause more than a twinge. Del looked straight at his partner and lied. “No.”

Bill shifted his pipe to the corner of his mouth and smiled enigmatically. “Then you must be pleased that Maggie named her baby after you.”

Yes, he was pleased, Del thought, tipping his head back to drain his glass. That was why he was getting drunk, because Maggie had made him so doggone happy. He squinted at the bottle beside him and reached out to pour more whiskey.

The last time he’d done this, he’d gotten drunk because he’d been angry. More than angry—furious. Eight years had passed, but he still hadn’t forgotten the feeling of helpless rage that he’d tried to drown in the bottom of a bottle. He had just seen the carefully laid plans for his life crumble to nothing.

That’s what love did to a person. He’d been around the same age then that Maggie was now, and he’d been just as wrong about the person he’d fallen in love with.

Only in Del’s case, it hadn’t been a whirlwind romance with someone who was already married. He had loved Elizabeth Johanson since they had made a papier-mâché model of Mount Saint Helens together for a fifth grade geography project. The finished model had looked more like a crumpled soda can than a volcanic crater, but he had fallen head over heels for Elizabeth nevertheless.

They had gone steady all through high school. No one in the county had been surprised when Del and Elizabeth had become engaged after graduation. While she had gone away to teachers’ college, he had stayed behind to help work his parents’ farm, counting the days until they would be married. Their love had seemed stronger than ever each time Elizabeth had come home. By the time he was twenty-one, his parents had deeded him a plot of land, and he had already started to build the house he and Elizabeth had designed together. It would have plenty of bedrooms. They wanted a houseful of children.

Oh, yeah, Elizabeth had wanted children. She was wild about them. She came from a family almost as large as Del’s and she was devoted to her younger siblings. So when her youngest brother came down with the mumps the Christmas before her wedding, she hadn’t hesitated to take care of him. She hadn’t realized she would pass on the illness to Del.

Having the mumps at seven wasn’t usually serious. It was just another one of those childhood diseases that was more of a nuisance than a danger. But the consequences were different for a man of twenty-one.

Del hadn’t wanted to believe the results of the lab test his doctor had ordered. He’d had a second, and then a third, but they only verified the first. The mumps had left Del unable to father children. He was completely sterile.

It had been difficult to grasp. Del hadn’t felt any different physically. He still had the same sexual urges of any normal, red-blooded male his age. As far as he knew, his capabilities when it came to lovemaking hadn’t suffered. He had thought he was the same man.

Elizabeth had cried when he’d told her. In one breath she vowed she would always love him, but in the next she was telling him their engagement was off. She didn’t want to tie herself for life to a man who couldn’t give her children.

Del had felt his anger stir then, but he’d had no target to focus the feeling on. He couldn’t really blame Elizabeth’s brother for coming down with the mumps in the first place. And he tried not to fault Elizabeth for her honesty, either, no matter how hurtful her rejection of him was. If he really loved her, he would want her to be happy, wouldn’t he? He would let her go and wish her well.

That’s what he’d tried to do. He’d been damn noble about the whole thing. But the nobility had been submerged by a wave of fury when barely a month had passed before he learned that the woman who had promised to love him forever had eloped with his best friend. Their first child had been born eight months later.

So much for love. So much for loyalty. It hadn’t taken the love of his life long to find his replacement.

Getting drunk had seemed like a good idea then. It had helped to blunt the pain. It had diluted the frustrated anger he’d felt at Elizabeth, at fate, at his own physical defect.

But he wasn’t angry now, was he?

So why was he determined to get drunk?

It was because of Delilah. The beautiful little baby with Maggie’s eyes…and Del’s name.

Del let his head fall back against the headboard. He could feel a pleasant numbness starting in his lips. It was only a matter of time before it worked its way to his mind.

Trouble was, once the alcohol wore off, the emotions would still be there.

Maggie really had made him happy. It wasn’t just because she had named her child after him. It was her openhearted generosity. Even though they hardly knew each other, she was letting him share the joy of her baby. When was the last time he’d felt such pure, simple pleasure?

She had declared him an honorary uncle. He hadn’t been much of a real one. He always made sure to send Christmas and birthday gifts to his sister’s kids, but he didn’t see them often. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been home. He’d deliberately limited his contact with babies.

Until now, he’d never realized how much he’d been missing.

He fumbled to put his glass on the nightstand. Damn, he was drunk, all right. He was getting downright mushy. He could feel the silly smile working across his face as he thought about how incredibly soft Delilah’s cheek had felt, and how perfectly Maggie’s hand had fit within his.

He wanted to experience those feelings again.

Yet he would never know the touch of his own child. There would be no blood of his blood, flesh of his flesh. He wouldn’t be able to put that glow of happiness on a woman’s face that he saw on Maggie’s when she held her baby. He couldn’t give her the seed that would grow the miracle.

Rubbing his eyes, he shook his head. He was getting downright maudlin.

Maggie wanted more children. She had made that clear even when she’d been in the throes of labor. Del knew better than to get involved with a woman like that. It would only lead to pain and disillusionment. It would be Elizabeth all over again.

The solution to Del’s problem was dead simple. All he had to do was keep away from any woman who wanted children. That way, his sterility would never be an issue.

He shouldn’t have gone to see Maggie yesterday.

But he would see her today. And tomorrow. And as often as he could until his work here was over and he moved on to the next assignment. At least the whiskey had made him honest enough to admit that much.

Damn it all, he wanted to see her. And he wanted to see the baby. They made him feel good.

Besides, he didn’t intend to get involved with Maggie. He only wanted to do the decent thing, to be her friend. He still felt a certain amount of responsibility toward her, especially now that she had named her child after him. As long as he limited their association to friendship, there wouldn’t be any risk of hurt to either of them.

Yes, he could be her friend, he reasoned. He could be an honorary uncle to his namesake. Just because he couldn’t have children of his own didn’t mean he had to cut Maggie and Delilah out of his life entirely, did it?

And as he’d already reminded himself, he didn’t need to be able to father children to be a success in the life he had now. Having children was damn inconvenient for a SPEAR agent. Hunting international terrorists and keeping the world safe for democracy were dangerous business. On top of that, Del never knew where he’d be from one day to the next. A man like that wouldn’t make a good father, even if his plumbing did work.

When he thought about it, there was a certain irony to the situation—the top marksman in SPEAR was only capable of shooting blanks.

Was that one of the reasons he’d become such a crack shot, to compensate for his failure in that other area? Was that why he was so adamant about never taking a life, because he knew he’d never be able to create one?

Del sighed and slid down to stretch out on the bed. He’d definitely had enough to drink. He’d progressed from mushy to maudlin and now he was headed straight for philosophical.

Maybe he should forget about doing this once a year. Every eight years was more than enough.

The rain hit the front window of the diner with the determination of machine-gun bullets. Near the counter there was a crash of breaking crockery. Del winced as echoes of the racket ping-ponged through his skull. He held his breath, waiting until his brain stopped sloshing around, then hunched his shoulders and took another gulp of coffee.

“Broom is in the back room,” Laszlo said from his post in front of the grill. He scowled at the teenager who stared at him defiantly.

“I’m not cleaning that up. I didn’t do it.” The girl pointed a black-tipped fingernail toward the other waitress. The black nail polish matched her lipstick, as well as the studs that marched in an arc along the edge of her right ear. “It was her fault.”

Joanne blew a large bubble and popped it with a snap. “Taking responsibility for your mistakes is good for your karma, kid. You don’t want to come back as a toad, do you?”

“You bumped my elbow.”

“I was nowhere near you, hon.”

“Yeah, right. What’s the matter? Memory failing? Take too many acid trips back in the sixties, Grandma?”

Joanne chewed her gum harder. “Twerp.”

“Cow.”

The two customers nearest the door evidently decided it was a good time to leave. They stood up, their chairs screeching across the floor with a noise akin to a freight train making an emergency stop.

“Enough,” Laszlo growled. “You get broom now, or you look for the other job.”

“Hey, fine with me, Fatso.” The girl pulled off her apron and tossed it on the counter. “This job sucks. I can make more money with a squeegee.” She strode to the door, her six-inch platform shoes pounding across the floor like an artillery barrage.

Del squinted as his left eye began to water.

“Nice going, Laszlo,” Joanne muttered. “That’s the second one in two days.”

“She was the idiot. She look like the witch and scare customers.”

“I suppose she couldn’t help it. I noticed right off that her aura was unbalanced.” Joanne retrieved the broom and swept up the shattered dishes. The shards clinked together with the rat-a-tat sharpness of a tap-dancing troupe practicing on a sheet of aluminum.

Del finished his coffee. Placing a paper napkin across his saucer to muffle the clunk, he carefully set the cup on top of it. The bagel he’d managed to eat was sitting in his stomach like a stone, but at least it had gone down quietly.

“Would you like anything else?”

He stifled a groan at Joanne’s perky inquiry. He started to shake his head but thought better of it. “No, thanks.”

“Sorry about the commotion,” she said. “We’re having a hard time finding a replacement for Maggie.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Poor kid. She was so eager to have that baby, but it took all of us off guard.”

“That it did.”

“We sure were lucky that you happened to be in here. My gosh, I don’t know what we would have done when she went into labor like that.” She tilted her head, smiling at Del. “She told me she named the baby after you.”

“Yes. Delilah.”

“That’s just like Maggie. She’s such a sweet girl.”

“She’ll make a good mother.”

“That’s for sure.” She gave her gum a pensive chew. “Do you have any kids, Del?”

Why was everyone asking him that lately? “No, I don’t.”

“Maggie’s just nuts about them. When I called her this morning she was already talking about having more.” Joanne gasped and smacked her forehead. “Oh, no. Maggie!”

“What about her?” Del asked immediately. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that. She’s going home today.”

“Already?”

“I promised I would take her, and she’s anxious to leave. She hates hospitals. Laszlo said he’d lend me his car.” She whirled around. “Laszlo! You’ve got to get her back.”

“Who?”

“The kid with the earrings.”

“No. She is the witch.”

“But I have to pick up Maggie. If you don’t get that earring girl back, who’s going to cover for me?”

Laszlo scowled. “You can’t go. Maggie will wait.”

“She can’t wait. She has to clear out of the room this afternoon.”

“She can take subway.”

“The subway? Laszlo, you don’t understand. She doesn’t just need a ride, she needs someone to help her get the baby settled. It would be horrible for her to have to go home all by herself. And taking her child home is such a momentous occasion, she shouldn’t be alone—”

“I need you here.”

“But I promised. She’s expecting me in an hour.”

Del listened in silence as the two tried to figure out what to do. Of course, there was an obvious solution to the problem. His shift wouldn’t start for another few hours. He could easily get to the hospital, pick up Maggie and Delilah and take them home. That would still leave him plenty of time to get them settled before he had to meet Bill at the surveillance site.

That would be the decent thing to do, wouldn’t it? The kind of assistance a friend or an honorary uncle would give? Last night he’d already decided there would be no harm in that, right?

Despite the rain that sheeted down the window and the hangover from hell, the day suddenly seemed brighter. Del’s teeth barely ached as he scraped his chair back and stood up. “Maybe I can help,” he said.

At least the taxi was yellow instead of white, Maggie thought as the cab splashed its way across the Queensboro Bridge toward her apartment in Astoria. As long as the cab was yellow, there would be less risk of getting Del confused with a knight on a white horse, riding to her rescue.

She turned her head to look at him. His dark brown hair clung wetly to his scalp, molding the contours of his head like a helmet. His navy blue windbreaker appeared black, soaked through from the rain and weighed down against his shoulders like tightly woven chain mail. His usually neatly pressed chinos stuck to his thighs, outlining muscles that could easily control a horse.

He’d brought an umbrella with him, but it had been one of those small, collapsible ones. He’d used it to keep her and the baby dry instead of himself.

Darn chivalrous of him, wasn’t it? Like an old-fashioned knight, or maybe a cowboy out of some Gary Cooper western?

Maggie grimaced inwardly. The roller coaster ride she’d been on with her emotions since Delilah’s birth was beginning to slow down, but it wasn’t over yet. She was pathetically vulnerable right now, so she had good reason to be cautious about her reaction to Del.

He was a nice guy, that’s all. A really nice guy. He didn’t deserve to be the focus of all this silly fantasizing—she’d already decided that would only lead to trouble.

After all, that was how it had started with Alan: a chance meeting in the diner, an instant attraction to the man with the charming, too-good-to-be-true manner. He had flirted outrageously, then had swept her into a whirlwind romance. He’d topped it all off with an impetuous declaration of love that she’d wanted too badly to believe.

But Del wasn’t like Alan. He was tender and honest….

Hormones, she reminded herself, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in her throat. She’d read about this in the baby books, too. That’s why she was making such a big deal out of Del’s friendly gesture. He wasn’t trying to be charming, he was simply being, well, nice.

“How’s the baby doing?” he asked.

Maggie lifted the corner of the receiving blanket and peeked at Delilah in the car seat. “She’s still asleep.”

“Good. I was worried the rain might have woken her.”

“Thanks to you, she didn’t get a drop.”

“Great.”

She brushed her thumb across the baby’s knuckles. “It seems as if I’m always thanking you, Del.”

“You don’t have to. I’m glad I could help.”

“I’m sorry about the way Joanne roped you into this.”

“No need to apologize. I volunteered.”

“Thanks, Del.”

Thunder rumbled as the taxi pulled up in front of Maggie’s apartment building. Del got soaked once more as he held the umbrella over Maggie and Delilah and escorted them to the entrance. When they reached her apartment on the third floor, he took the key from her hand and unlocked the door.

Maggie had always liked this apartment. She’d decorated the place on a shoestring, scouring the neighborhood discount stores for bargains and brightening the walls with paint the color of pale daffodils. She loved the earth-toned fringed rug and the overstuffed couch, the tapestry pillows and the lamp with the stained-glass shade. All the little touches she’d stretched her budget to add made the place cozy and welcoming.

She paused on the threshold. Everything was exactly the same as it had been when she’d left for work the day her baby had been born.

And that was the problem. It was exactly as she’d left it.

In the gray light from the window, she could see the heap of laundry still on the couch and the dishes she’d left in the sink. The high-backed rocking chair she’d found in a thrift shop last week was buried under a layer of newspapers and baby books. Through the doorway that led to her closet-size bedroom, she could see the trailing edge of a crumpled sheet.

She hadn’t tidied up before leaving for work that morning—her back had been aching in what she now realized had been the onset of labor. On top of that, she’d been too tired out after taking most of the previous evening to rearrange the bedroom furniture to clear a space for the crib.

Her gaze swung to the far wall and the pieces of what was supposed to be Delilah’s crib. She had believed it would be weeks before she would need to assemble it. She wasn’t sure where the sheets for it were. She hadn’t finished organizing the clothes she’d been acquiring for the baby, either—she had assumed she’d have plenty of time to get the apartment into shape once she stopped working.

As she contemplated the tasks ahead of her, Maggie’s emotions did another roller coaster twist and dip, swerving toward despair. But then she glanced at her daughter, and she was swooping upward again.

This was another one of those moments she’d anticipated for months. She had her baby safe and warm in her arms, and she was about to bring her into the home they would share together.

What did it matter if the place wasn’t perfect? Who cared if there was more work to be done? Fancy furniture and clean laundry didn’t make a home. Love made a home. And she and Delilah would have plenty of that.

She would manage somehow. She always did. One day at a time.

“Are you crying again, Maggie?”

She licked a tear that had trickled to the corner of her mouth, then firmed her chin. “No.”

“That’s good,” he said, patting the pockets of his sodden jacket. “Because I don’t think I have anything dry on me.”

His stab at humor only made her eyes fill faster. Maggie took a shaky breath and led the way inside. “Take your jacket off, Del. I think we could both use some towels.”

He closed the door behind them and looked around briefly, then peeled off his windbreaker and hung it over the doorknob. “Don’t worry about me, Maggie.”

“It’s the least I can do after the way you brought us home and everything.” Holding Delilah to her shoulder, she walked to the bathroom and took a large bath towel from the shelf over the tub.

By the time she returned, Del had cleared the newspapers and books off the rocking chair and was stacking them under the window. He grabbed a pillow from the couch and propped it against the chair back.

“Del, you don’t have to—”

“Here.” He took the towel from her hand and draped it around his neck, then cupped her elbow and guided her to the chair. He hovered by her side until she and Delilah were comfortably settled. “You should be taking it easy.”

The concern in his voice brought a lump to her throat. It was only gratitude she felt, and a good dose of postpartum hormones. Her emotions were as much a mess as her apartment. “Thanks, Del.”

He used the towel to wipe his face and briskly rubbed his hair dry. “With Delilah’s birth coming so unexpectedly, I realize you likely haven’t had a chance to make all the preparations you would have wanted to, so is there anything you need?”

She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “You mean like a road map for the apartment or maybe a bulldozer for the mess?”

“I was thinking more in the line of food or diapers, but I’ll clean up whatever you want.”

“I appreciate the offer, Del, but I’ll be fine. The fridge is full, and there’s a carton of diapers around here somewhere. If I can remember where,” she added under her breath.

“What about formula? Baby bottles?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of that. I’m…” She hesitated, surprised by the sudden self-consciousness she felt. This was the man who had witnessed her baby’s birth. They had shared an intimacy that transcended sex, and yet she knew by the heat in her cheeks that she was coloring into a beet.

This was absurd, she told herself. Her modesty was misplaced. As natural functions went, this had to be the most wholesome of all. “Delilah won’t need any formula,” she answered finally. “I’m breast-feeding her.”

Beneath the beginnings of Del’s five-o’clock shadow, his face appeared to redden. He gripped the towel he held more tightly. “Oh.”

At his obvious embarrassment, Maggie relaxed. It really was silly to feel awkward, considering what they’d already gone through. She shifted the still sleeping Delilah to the crook of her arm and rested her elbow on the pillow Del had supplied. “Didn’t your sister breast-feed?”

“I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it.”

“It’s the best thing for the baby. Mothers’ milk is the easiest to digest, so the longer I keep it up, the less likely she is to develop allergies.”

“Uh, yes. I can understand that.”

“And it will give her immune system a boost, since she’ll get all my antibodies through the milk.”

“That makes sense.”

“It’s also a lot easier for me.”

He kept his gaze scrupulously on her face. “I suppose so.”

“Especially for night feedings, since there’s no bottle to warm up and nothing to prepare.”

“Uh, right.”

“Considering the state of this place, that’s a good thing.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll never lose track of where I left the milk.”

He let out a startled laugh. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

She grinned, glad to see she had put him at ease.

Del gave his hair one last rub with the towel, then tossed the towel on top of the laundry pile. “Okay, it seems as if you have the basics covered. Is there anything else you can think of that you might need?”

“No, thanks, I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

“Is there a Laundromat close by?”

“There’s a laundry room in the basement, but I’ll get to it, Del. Honestly, contrary to how things look here, I’m normally a very competent person.”

“I know you are, Maggie. But I realize Delilah’s birth being earlier than you expected must have caused you problems.” He paused. “If having to quit work so soon is going to leave you in a tight spot…”

“Hey, did I mention the other good thing about breast-feeding? It’s cheap.”

He didn’t smile. “Maggie, I don’t mean to pry into your finances, but if you need money, just ask.”

Her grin faded. “Del, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll get by. I do have some money put aside, and the baby-sitting I’ll be doing for my neighbor will help tide me over until I can go back to work.”

He nodded. “Okay, but if something comes up, I would be happy to give you a loan, no strings attached.”

“Really, you don’t have to feel obligated….” She was struck by a sudden thought. “Is that it? Do you feel you have to help because I said you could be Delilah’s honorary uncle?”

“I don’t feel obligated to help. I want to.”

“Because I didn’t name Delilah after you just to manipulate you into feeling responsible, and I sure wasn’t looking for money—”

“Maggie, I never thought you were like that,” he said. “I feel privileged to be part of Delilah’s life. Believe me, what you’ve given me is far more valuable than anything I could offer you.”

How did he always know exactly the right thing to say? she wondered. “Thanks, Del.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. I do a lot of traveling because of my work, so I don’t see much of my nephews and nieces back in Missouri. I’m only in New York temporarily, too, but while I’m here, I’d really like the chance to be Delilah’s honorary uncle. And your friend.”

The roller coaster did another dip and swirl. A friend? Maggie thought. A friend was safe. And a man friend who was only here temporarily was even safer.

What was she worried about? Why was she fighting him? She wasn’t in danger of falling into the same trap with Del that she had with Alan. She wasn’t going to start mistaking her dreams for the real thing. This was a different situation altogether. Yes, it was.

“Thanks, Del,” she said softly. “I can use all the friends I can get.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he returned her smile. “All right. Since your hands are full, how about if I put that crib together before I go?”

“Well…”

“Trust me, I’m good at putting things together. Or would you rather have me do the dishes instead?”

“No. Really. They don’t matter.”

“You’re right. I think having someplace for Delilah to sleep tonight is the priority.” Before she could voice another objection, he switched on a lamp and crossed the room. After a cursory inspection of the parts of the crib, he laid the pieces out on the floor and opened the small plastic package that contained the necessary hardware. “Do you have a screwdriver?”

“In the drawer beside the stove.”

It was probably only a trick of the lighting combined with the pesky moisture that kept filling her eyes, she decided. Yet as Del progressed with his task, Maggie couldn’t help noticing how the lingering dampness on his shirt and pants reflected the lamplight with a gleam that was almost metallic, almost like…like armor. Shining armor.

Maggie pressed her cheek against the top of Delilah’s wispy curls, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

Chapter 4

“These pictures are great, Del! Oh, look at this one. You caught the way Delilah wrinkles her nose.” Maggie tilted her head, smiling as she examined the photograph.

“She takes a good picture.”

“Well, so do you. Literally, I mean. You have a real knack with that camera of yours.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

She looked at the next one. “Ooh, she’s blowing a bubble here.”

He folded his arms on the back of the rocking chair and leaned forward to look over her shoulder. “Yeah. That’s a cute one, isn’t it?”

“They’re all cute,” she said. “Each and every one. It’s weird, isn’t it? If I want to look at her, all I need to do is walk into the bedroom and glance down at the crib, but I can’t get enough of these pictures.”

“That’s understandable. She’s changed a lot since you brought her home.”

“You’re not kidding. Two weeks old today, and she’s already gained ten ounces,” she said proudly, shuffling through the stack of photographs. “Wait a minute. Where’s the picture I took?”

“Which one was that?”

She twisted around to look at him. “The one with you holding Delilah.”

He hesitated a beat, then shrugged. “I guess it didn’t turn out.”

“Darn. That happened on the last two rolls, too.”

“My camera can be temperamental sometimes.”

“That’s downright…chivalrous of you to say, Del,” Maggie said, her lips quirking. “But I guess photography isn’t one of my talents.”

“Well, you’re doing a great job with Delilah.”

“That’s not a job, that’s a joy.” She turned back to look at the photographs, starting through them again. “And speaking of joy, can you believe she’s still asleep? That’s almost two hours.”

“A new record?”

“You bet.”

“What about you, Maggie? Did you manage to get any sleep last night?”

“Sure. I think.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing the muscles above her collarbone in a gentle massage. “You think?”

At the feel of his long fingers working the stiffness from her shoulders, she groaned. “Oh, that feels good.”

“Why don’t you have a nap while I’m here? I can see to Delilah when she wakes up.”

She sighed, dropping her chin to her chest. “I don’t think you can, Del.”

“You taught me how to change her diaper. I believe I finally got the hang of those little sticky tabs now.”

“Mmm.”

He found a knot at the side of her neck and pressed firmly with his thumbs. “Is that better?”

“Mmm.” She exhaled slowly. He had wonderful hands, large yet gentle, thoroughly masculine. And he’d been adept when it came to manipulating the tiny fastenings of Delilah’s clothing—his fingers were remarkably nimble. “You wouldn’t have any trouble changing Delilah’s diaper, but there are some things you can’t do for her.”

“I’m a quick study. If you show me how—”

“Del,” she interrupted with a smile. She gestured toward her bosom. “You don’t have the equipment.”

He stilled for a moment, then chuckled and resumed the massage. “You got me there.”

“This feels heavenly,” she said, rolling her head.

“Part of the trouble with staying up all night is getting overtired. Your brain is too wound up to let your body relax and get the rest it needs.”

“You sound as if you’ve had your share of sleepless nights.”

He rubbed the heels of his hands in slow circles at the top of her spine. “A few.”

“What do you do to relax?”

“I exercise to work off tension.”

“Ugh.”

“With me, though, it’s coffee rather than a baby that keeps me awake.”

“Mmm, coffee,” she murmured. She leaned forward in the chair to give him better access to her back. “I have a vague memory of what coffee was like. I haven’t had any since last year. When I first got pregnant it made me nauseous. Now I can’t have it since the caffeine makes Delilah edgy. I’d be happy to make you some, though, as long as I can stand over the pot and inhale.”

“Don’t bother, Maggie. You should be relaxing while you can.”

She couldn’t argue with that, and she didn’t really want to. This impromptu back rub was bliss. It was because of those surplus hormones in her system, she decided, but she couldn’t recall feeling so sensitive to a friendly touch before. Del hadn’t touched her often, but each time he did, it had a strange effect. Today it was stronger than ever. Wherever his hands moved, the skin beneath her blouse tingled.

Tingled? As in stimulated? Nah, it definitely had to be hormones.

“Is there anything you can think of that you might need tomorrow?”

Mmm, she thought. What she needed was more of the same. Or maybe a full-length body massage, with scented oil and fluffy towels to lie naked on…and Del could use those long, strong, nimble fingers on other places besides her back…and she could start to feel like a woman again instead of just a mother….

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