“It looks like someone is trying to sabotage my efforts to make a nice home for these girls. What I can’t figure out is why.”

Detective Reece Corrigan scowled. “That’s what I’m here for, and I have to tell you-”

Denni raised her hand to stop him. “What possible motive could any of my girls have to sabotage their own home? Where would they go?”

Leaving him to mull that over, she marched to the top of the stairs. He followed her into the kitchen.

“That’s the one thing I can’t put my finger on. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but maybe the person we’re dealing with here doesn’t think along rational lines.”

“All my girls are rational,” Denni snapped.

His amusement was more than apparent in the upward curve of his lips. “Then I guess they must take after you,” he drawled.

The Mahoney Sisters: Fighting for justice and love.

REASONABLE DOUBT

SUSPICION OF GUILT

BETRAYAL OF TRUST

TRACEY V. BATEMAN

lives in Missouri with her husband and their four children. She writes full-time and is active in various roles in her home church. She has won several awards for her writing, and credits God’s grace and a limited number of entries for each win. To relax, she enjoys long talks with her husband, reading and music and hanging out with her kids, who can finally enjoy movies she likes. Tracey loves to encourage everyone to dream big. She believes she is living proof that, with God, nothing is impossible.

Suspicion of Guilt
Tracey V. Bateman

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You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

—Psalms 139:15–16

This book is dedicated to my precious friend Nancy Scott, who believes in the mandate for older (though she is not old) women to teach the younger women. God used you to teach me that I was somebody in His eyes. Thank you for sharing the theme scripture of this book with me when I was a teenager.

Special thanks to my faithful critique partners as always—especially Chris Lynxwiler and Pamela Griffin; both of you stayed by your computers to get chapters from me to critique on the spur of the moment so that I wouldn’t miss my deadline. Only God could have given me such loyal friends.

Also, thanks to my mother, Frances Devine, and to my mother-in-law, Vivian Bateman. Thank you both for believing in my dreams enough to sacrifice your time so that I can put mine to the best use during the days of deadline mania. May God bless you both abundantly above all you could ever ask or think.

Thank you, Jesus. It’s all about You.

Dear Reader,

Reece and Denni came from very different backgrounds, but both had to learn that they were crafted by design. Their lives were not just lucky or unlucky coincidences, but rather God, sticking to the plan. His plan.

It is my prayer that as you read through this story, God whispered, “Do you know how excited I was when you were being formed inside of your mother? From the moment of your conception, I dreamed about the day you would learn your first Bible verse; sing ‘Jesus Loves Me, This I Know’ the day you would hold your first wiggling worm in your chubby little fingers, or chase a beautiful butterfly; the first time you would fold your hands and say a prayer all by yourself; the day you would let Jesus become your Lord.”

Or if you’ve never taken that step, God has waited, in anticipation, just for you to come to that decision as Reece did.

I welcome e-mail from my readers at tvbateman@aol.com or visit my Web site, www.traceybateman.com.

May God bless you as you live, move and have your being in Him.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Prologue

The night swirled around her. Black, stabbing darkness conjured terrible shadows from childhood nightmares. Leaves hovered like a vampire’s cape, suffocating. Fear gripped her. Branches tossed in the breeze—razor-sharp fingers ready to slice her to shreds.

Hurry, hurry, hurry.

A low half growl, half whine came from the Doberman behind the fence next door. She jerked her head at the sound, heart pounding in her ears like the thrum of a thousand drums.

Shh. “It’s okay,” she whispered. Don’t give me away. I’m so close to accomplishing my goal. The dog obeyed and sat—watching but silent.

Relief flooded her as she turned back to her task. Denni Mahoney, with all of her sweetness and light…

Shards of rage pierced her heart at the thought of Denni getting what she wanted. She didn’t deserve it. A mastermind of deception. Denni had fooled them all.

Everyone but me. The thought made her smile with grim determination.

With a shaky hand, she reached for the outside faucet. Hesitated. One twist and the broken pipe would send water rushing inside the house instead of flowing to the ground. The basement would flood.

She grasped the faucet tightly and gave it a quick turn.

Water spewed.

The Doberman barked.

Her heart rate escalated. She pushed to her feet, gulping down the fear and crept across the yard. Exultation shoved away the terror of night as she found safety.

Chapter One

Shock, disbelief, horror…all vied for first place in Denni Mahoney’s chest as she stared at the foot of water standing in her basement. Water. Just…standing there where water was never meant to be. She shook her head, pressing her palm to her forehead.

What next?

“We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Behind her, Detective Reece Corrigan’s tone was hard-edged, resolute, but the warmth of his hand on her shoulder evoked a strange sense of comfort.

“You have to admit it definitely could be one of them. Why do you insist that all five of the girls are innocent?”

The warm, comforting fuzzies turned to cold stone. She didn’t have to admit any such thing, and she was sick of his suspicions being centered on the girls. Anger shoved down the tears clogging her throat, and she shook off his hand.

Standing on the fourth step from the bottom of the basement stairs, Denni watched a hardback book float across the water covering the concrete floor. A Tale of Two Cities. A birthday gift from her mom when she’d turned fifteen. Little by little her memories of Mom were being destroyed. It had been ten years since her death, and only photos provided a clear picture of her face anymore.

Denni grimaced and turned away, but Reece’s body on the step above her blocked the flight up. Even when she sent him her fiercest frown, he didn’t budge.

She drew in the subtle scent of his spicy aftershave. Understated appeal. She liked that about him. The guy had to know what he did to women—a worked-out physique and a masculinity that intimidated Denni, yet left her silently wishing he’d stay close. She eyed his muscled arms and broad chest and couldn’t help but wonder what it might feel like to be drawn close. To lose herself in a comforting embrace.

“Well?” he asked, the tension in his voice replaced by a subtle, low tone that seeped over her like a gentle rain.

She gaped, fighting the warmth creeping to her cheeks. “Well what?”

“I’m going to have to question them again. Who should I speak with first this time?”

“Oh, Reece,” she said, hearing the fatigue in her tone. She was so tired. So very, very tired. “Leave the girls alone, will you? How can you blame them for a flood?”

Her girls. Troubled, ex-foster-care kids who were too old to stay in the system, but too young to be out on their own. As a social worker, she had grown tired of seeing so many of these girls end up on public assistance, their own children placed in foster care, so she’d cleaned out her savings account, cashed in some bonds and opened a home.

Only five young women lived with her, but if her experiment panned out, she had commitments from several local churches to help buy two more homes, each housing ten girls. Monday, she was supposed to host a luncheon for the liaisons from each of these churches. How could she explain to potential sponsors that the cops suspected the residents of sabotage?

Denni glanced back at the basement, searching for escape from the confrontation that was surely to come. It was either hike down the steps and swim through the murky water or face Reece’s solid stubbornness. She sighed, knowing there was only one logical choice. She’d have to face him.

Forcing herself away from the sight of so many of her treasures soaked and more than likely ruined, she braced for the coming conflict, a tiresome, constant echo of accusation.

Deliberately, she lifted her gaze and faced sharp green eyes. Steely, knee-weakening eyes that raked over her face, commanding her to accept the possibility.

“Admit it,” he demanded.

“I admit only one thing. It looks as though someone is trying to sabotage my efforts to make a nice home for these girls.” A sigh pushed from her lungs. “What I can’t figure out is why.”

Detective Corrigan scowled. “That’s what I’m here for, and I have to tell you…”

Denni raised her hand to stop the opinion from flying out of his mouth. “What possible motive could any of them have to sabotage their own home? Where would they go?”

Leaving him to mull over that bit of reason, she scraped against his bomber jacket as she maneuvered around him and marched to the top of the stairs. He followed her into the kitchen.

“That’s the one thing I can’t put my finger on. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but maybe the person we’re dealing with here doesn’t think along rational lines.”

“All my girls are rational,” Denni snapped.

His amusement was more than apparent in the upward curve of his lips. “Then I guess they must take after you,” he drawled.

Fighting the urge to stomp away like a five-year-old, Denni snatched up the phone and dialed the number for the electric company.

She scowled at Reece, just as a lady on the other end answered, effectively cutting off any retort. “Hello, this is Denni Mahoney at 344 Clark Street. My basement flooded. I need someone to shut off my electricity while we pump it out.”

“One moment, please.”

Denni drummed her nails along the Formica cabinet top wishing Detective Corrigan would just stop staring at her like that. “What?” she snapped, shooting him a hard glance.

“I beg your pardon?” The lady on the phone sounded mildly irritated.

“Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Corrigan smirked. Denni turned her back.

“Ma’am, I’m told all you need to do is shut off the circuits to the basement.”

Denni closed her eyes and shook her head. She pressed her fingertips to her temple. Did she look like an idiot or just sound like one over the phone? “Yeah, the problem with that advice is that my breaker box is actually in the basement, and I’m not real thrilled with the idea of getting zapped.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, Oh.

“All right. I’ll have someone come over first thing Monday morning.”

“Wait! Monday? I have water in my basement! I can’t wait until Monday.”

“Yes, ma’am. I understand that. But that’s the earliest time we have available. The last orders have already gone out for the day. And we don’t work on the weekends.”

Denni bit back a nasty reply and hung up. She smacked the counter with her palm. “What am I supposed to do until Monday with water soaking my basement?”

“Stay upstairs?” Corrigan’s attempt at humor spiked her irritation level.

She glared. “Not funny.” Besides the question was rhetorical.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Do you want to talk about all of this?”

“No.”

“Then why did you call me?”

She shrugged. Why had she called him? She’d walked down the steps this morning to do a load of laundry, discovered the flooded basement, and all she could think to do was call Reece. It made no sense to her.

“I’ll tell you why. Because you know that a creek in your basement is no accident.” He looked past her and his eyes clouded.

A feminine voice, thick with disdain, shot through the air before Denni could confirm or deny his assumption. “Oh, great. What’s he doing here?”

Denni snapped her head around at the anger in Leigh’s tone. The girl leaned jauntily against the door frame, thumbs latched in her front jeans pockets. With her short spiked hair dyed pitch-black, and sporting a lip ring and a belly shirt, the girl looked a little wild, but Denni knew the softy inside. Reece on the other hand looked like a tiger about to spring.

“So, where have you been all day?” he asked.

“None of your business.” She dismissed him with a sneer and turned to Denni. “What happened?”

“Someone left the outside faucet on.”

Leigh groaned. “Oh, great! Not again. I’ll go hook up the wet ’n’ dry vac.”

“Don’t bother. We’ll have to get it pumped out. It’s pretty deep.”

Leigh kicked at the linoleum with one socked foot. “How much is that going to cost?”

“Nothing.” Corrigan’s voice cut through the air. “I know a guy with a pump.”

As much as Denni wanted to believe in his good intentions, the offer had the distinct odor of a rat. A big fat suspicious rat with a shiny badge and knee-weakening green eyes.

“Thanks, anyway.”

“Yeah. Who needs you?” Leigh growled in his direction.

Denni couldn’t blame the girl for her animosity. Since the first mishap three months ago—a laptop computer and a pretty expensive stereo system both missing—Corrigan had made no secret of the fact that he wasn’t ruling out any of the girls as suspects. Leigh had seemed to take the brunt of his questions. A fire in the laundry room a month later had only deepened his suspicion. Especially after he’d found a lighter and cigarettes in her room. And no amount of don’t-judge-a-book-by-its-cover speeches from Denni could deter him.

“Come on,” he said. “No strings attached.”

Leigh snorted. “Yeah, right.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself, but these guys work by the hour. Who knows how long it’ll take to pump out that much water?”

“We’ll manage, Detective,” Denni said, mentally calculating how much was left in her account, and if worse came to worst, her credit-card balances.

“Fine. At least come down and fill out a report.”

Denni shook her head. “I’ve changed my mind. It was probably just an accident.”

“Sure.” His lips dripped with sarcasm. “A water faucet that only your girls know is broken. Why would anyone else have turned it on?”

“I don’t know.”

He gave a frustrated huff. “If you’d report it, I’d be officially assigned to investigate. We could get to the bottom of this.”

“Hey, Corrigan,” Leigh piped in. “Where’s our stereo and computer? Weren’t you assigned to that one, too?”

“Can it, Leigh,” Denni said. There was no sense in antagonizing him.

Too late. The guy was sufficiently ticked off. He took a step toward the sneering girl. “Why don’t you tell me who you sold them to? Then I’ll get them back for Denni.”

“Why don’t you stop trying to be a big shot and just do your job?”

Denni cringed as the gloves officially came off. These two were going for a knockout.

“Believe me, I’m doing my job, little girl. And unless I miss my guess, you’ll be finding that out firsthand, real quick.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Good grief.” Denni smacked the counter again, heedless of the stinging in her palm. “You two are acting like a couple of three-year-olds. Detective, is there anything else we can do for you?” Belatedly she remembered she’d called him.

She cringed as his brow went up. “No, I don’t guess there’s anything else I want, but I recognize an invitation to leave when I hear one. I’ll show myself out.” He brushed past Leigh. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“I can’t wait,” she smarted back.

“Good bye, Detective,” Denni said. “Thank you for the offer of the pump.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He gave her a long stare, then shook his head and stalked out of the kitchen.

“What a weasel.”

Reece’s lips twisted into a wry grin at Leigh’s assessment of his charm—or the lack thereof. He paused on the other side of the wall separating him from the kitchen, feeling like a jerk for eavesdropping, but thinking he might be handed a clue on a silver platter if he hung out at the door for awhile.

“We don’t have time to think about him right now, Leigh,” Denni’s voice responded. “What am I going to do about Monday’s luncheon?”

“Oh, brother. I forgot about that.”

Luncheon? The woman had a serial saboteur on her hands and she was giving a party? Reece scowled.

Leigh’s voice continued. “Who can we call to get the basement pumped out?”

“There’s no point. The electric company won’t shut off the electricity until Monday.”

“Well, that’s that.”

Denni’s sigh went straight to Reece’s heart. He shook it off. Now was not the time to get soft about the house mother. For all he knew, she might be the one responsible for the mishaps. He’d have to look into her insurance policy again.

In the meantime, she was going to take his help whether she wanted it or not.

He lifted his cell phone from his belt and dialed while he walked to his truck, a gray and black Avalanche. He leaned against the door listening to the rings.

“Hey, Jack,” he said when his friend answered the phone. “I have a little problem I need some help with.”

“What’s that?”

“How hard would it be to get a rush order to shut off someone’s electricity?”

“What kind of police work calls for you to do that?”

“None. This is a personal favor. The lady has a basement full of water and can’t pump it out while the electricity is on.”

He hesitated a minute. “Give me the address and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Jack. Oh, one more thing. Can you turn it back on tomorrow? She has a luncheon on Monday.”

A knowing chuckle reached his ears. “Hey, don’t tell me you finally found someone who actually wants to go out with you.”

Heat burned his neck. The idea of dating Denni Mahoney had merit. As a matter of fact, he’d thought of it more than once. And if the case ever wrapped up, he might ask her out, but not now. “No. Nothing like that.” He gave him the address and quickly disconnected the call.

Before he could lift the door handle and climb into the truck, a low growl caught his attention, setting his senses on high alert.

With careful movement, he turned his head. A Doberman stood not five feet away, teeth bared, and looking ready to bite a hunk out of him.

“Easy, boy.”

“Buffy! Leave that man alone!”

Buffy? This had to be the worst case of misnaming an animal he’d ever encountered. Boy or girl, Buffy looked more like a Bruiser or a Spike.

Still he felt a little embarrassed to have been so antsy, when an elderly woman marched right up to the dog and smacked it on the nose as though Buffy didn’t have the capacity to bite off a thumb. “Shame on you,” she scolded. “What have I told you about being nasty to people?”

Buffy’s pink tongue shot out and lathered the woman’s wrinkled hand. She melted visibly. “Oh, you’re such a sweetie pie,” she crooned.

“Ma’am. I take it this is your dog?”

“Of course, she is. Aren’t you, Buffy Boo?”

Reece tensed. The baby talk was getting on his nerves. Flashing his badge, he put on his best off-duty-but-still-a-cop face. “Inside the city limits, Buffy has to stay behind a fence or inside the house where she isn’t a threat to anyone.”

“Buffy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“The behavior I just witnessed was pretty aggressive, ma’am. I thought I might have to pepper-spray her.”

The woman gasped then frowned, causing deep furrows between her eyes. “Nothing more than police brutality.”

Reece scowled. All he needed was a woman on the verge of hysteria over her vicious dog.

He was about to leave her with a simple warning to get the dog secured somehow, when she pointed her shaky, gnarled finger at him. “My Buffy is the only protection I have from the neighborhood thugs and thieves.” She jerked her head toward Mahoney House. “Do you know who lives there?” she asked in a hoarse whisper. “Juvenile delinquents.” The smug look she gave him clearly stated that she need say no more. “They come and go at all hours of the night with their earrings and spiked hair.”

Against all reason, Reece found his defenses creeping upward. “Ma’am. I’m not in the habit of harassing elderly ladies and their guard dogs. However, the law states all dogs be kept secured. You can’t leave her out even if you don’t approve of your neighbors. Is that clear?”

Anger shot through her faded blue eyes. “I’ll put her back behind her fence, but I can’t guarantee she won’t get loose and go after one of them.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

The lady snorted and tugged on Buffy’s collar. “Come on sweet ’ums. Let’s get you home and give you some food.”

Squinting against the sun’s reflection off the back of his truck, Reece watched her leave, Buffy in tow. Now, there was a woman with a reason to get Mahoney House closed down. Why hadn’t Denni ever mentioned trouble with her neighbors?

Making a mental note to do some more investigating, Reece climbed behind the wheel and cranked the engine. This case was bizarre. It irked him that so many months had gone by without a crack. Robbery and sabotage? How did the two of them go hand in hand?

He had figured one of the girls had lifted the electronics from the house and sold them for quick cash, but Denni had a point. What reason would they have for flooding the basement of their own home? The neighbor, on the other hand, might have a reason for sabotage, but the thought of that little old lady sneaking into the house and pilfering almost made him laugh. Not that it was completely impossible, but it was improbable and certainly not something he’d want to bring up to his chief.

He glanced at Mahoney House. A curtain dropped as though someone had been watching him. Denni? He smiled, but dismissed the likelihood. It was a nice little fantasy to boost his ego, anyway.

Two hours later, he was on his way back to the Mahoney House with a borrowed portable pump and a generator in the back of his truck.

The electricity should be off by now and he had Jack’s word that he’d turn it back on tomorrow evening. Reece wasn’t helping out just to be a nice guy. This was also his way of spending time with the girls in their own environment. Something he’d never had the chance to do before. Maybe he could earn their trust. And someone would start talking.

The added bonus was the time he would spend with Denni Mahoney. His throat constricted at the thought. From their first rocky meeting, he’d been attracted to her despite the circumstances. With round eyes the color of melted chocolate, sweet perfume, shiny hair and soft curves, she was the embodiment of beauty and femininity. Alluring enough to warm a man’s blood, yet innocent enough for him to picture her in a white wedding gown carrying a bouquet at the same time.

The memory of her eyes flashing with anger when she defended the girls made him grin. She was spunky to boot. He was determined to find the person responsible for trying to thwart her dream. So far, trying to be the hard-edged cop hadn’t drawn out the saboteur. Maybe it was time to turn on the charm.

Chapter Two

Peeking from behind the burgundy drapes hanging at the living-room window, Denni felt her heart jump at the sight of Reece’s truck pulling into the drive.

In a way, she wanted to ask him, “Hey, what part of ‘no’ don’t you understand, buddy?” But mostly, she wanted to throw her arms around him and thank him for taking matters into his own hands and not accepting no for an answer.

“What’s he doing back here?” Leigh’s voice next to Denni arrested her attention, pulling her from the vision of flying into Reece’s well-muscled arms.

“Looks like he decided to help us clean up whether we like it or not.”

Leigh headed for the door—all bad attitude and body language. “Want me to get rid of him?”

“No, don’t be rude. He’s doing us a favor.” Just why he was doing them a favor, she didn’t know. But she wasn’t opposed to figuring it out.

“I think it’s sort of sweet.” Denni turned at the soft sound of Cate Sheridan’s voice. The girl waddled across the room, her eight-months-pregnant belly leading the way.

“Sweet?” Leigh sniffed. “Those hormones are definitely affecting your brain. The guy’s been on our backs for months accusing us of robbing Denni. Now he’s blaming us for a flood. And you think he’s sweet?”

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Cate grinned and elbowed Denni. “He sure is a hottie, don’t you think?”

Warmth flooded Denni’s cheeks. It was one thing for her to consider Reece a good-looking man in the privacy of her own mind, another for the girls to notice. She rolled her eyes and tried to recover some dignity. “I’m too old to think ‘hottie’ when I see a guy.”

“Yeah, right.” Leigh’s voice held no humor.

Cate nudged Denni again and said in her best Southern drawl, “Ya might be old, honey. But ya ain’t dead.”

Denni couldn’t hold back a laugh.

Obviously seeing nothing funny about the whole situation, Leigh swept over them both with a glare. “Just remember this particular guy is out for my blood, Denni. Don’t let him charm you into suspecting one of us.”

Denni turned to the girl, and her heart softened at the worry darkening Leigh’s black-lined eyes. “Leigh, I know you had nothing to do with any of the things that have happened around here. And it would take a lot more than a great-looking guy with big muscles to make me believe any different.”

“You say that now. But you don’t know guys all that well, Denni. My mom used to run off with every charmer that came along until he’d dump her, then she’d take up with another one. And my mom isn’t a stupid woman. These guys are good talkers. Believe me, they know how to get what they want from a woman. Especially one as nice as you.”

Three sharp raps on the door stopped Denni from pursuing the conversation. Leigh rarely talked about her biological mother. Perhaps she was almost ready to open up. But with Reece standing in the doorway, Leigh’s entire demeanor spoke of belligerence and the polar opposite of cooperation. Denni knew there would be no getting the girl to talk today.

“What do you want, Corrigan?” Leigh demanded.

“It’s all right.” Denni moved forward quickly in an effort to avoid an unpleasant scene. “I understand you’re to thank for getting the electric company to shut off the power for us.”

He gave a modest grin and nodded as he stepped inside. “I overheard Miss Sommers mention your luncheon on Monday.”

“Eavesdropper,” Leigh accused.

“Yes,” Denni said firmly. “And thanks to his eavesdropping, we can get the basement cleaned up and perhaps pull off the luncheon without all ten churches deciding not to sponsor us.”

Muttering words that burned Denni’s ears and never failed to make her stomach churn, Leigh spun around and stomped out of the room.

The detective watched her go, his lips twisting into a sarcastic grin. “She’s going to have to stop throwing herself at me. It’s getting downright embarrassing.”

Cate giggled. “It would definitely be a cold day—”

“Cate, will you please go up and let the other girls know we’ll be starting on the basement soon?”

Denni shook her head. Living with a group of girls who held to no strong faith, and who had pretty much seen and heard it all, definitely presented its challenges. With the exception of Rissa, all of the girls attended services only as part of their requirement for living at Mahoney House. Rissa had found a true commitment to Christ last year.

Working to place children in foster homes for the past ten years, Denni had met caring families who provided loving, nurturing environments. The kids in those homes were the lucky ones. The children she was most concerned about were the others: the leftovers whose foster parents cashed the checks and spent them on their own pleasure, without providing properly for the children they had agreed to take in, the kids who fell through the cracks when they turned eighteen and the government stopped paying for their upkeep, at least as foster children. Many grew to adulthood and ended up in the welfare system, continuing a cycle of poverty and neglect.

Denni knew she couldn’t fix the whole problem, but for five girls she was making a difference. At least she believed she was. Each was either in college or, in the case of Cate, taking online courses. Each had a part-time job as well and a mountain of hope for the future.

If she could pull off the luncheon Monday afternoon, perhaps there would be room for twenty more girls. Two houses, larger than the four-bedroom Victorian home she currently owned, each providing a home for ten, plus a house mother of sorts. Denni would then serve as a paid coordinator for all the houses.

She wanted it so badly she could taste it. Like a craving for milk chocolate or veal parmesan with sauce and gooey mozzarella cheese. It just had to be God’s will.

“So, the girls…”

Detective Corrigan’s voice brought her back to the moment. The proverbial fly in the ointment. This guy’s suspicions could blow everything sky-high. She had to find a way to convince him to point his investigation away from the girls.

Denni watched him as his gaze perused the five eight-by-ten photographs arranged on the mantel above the stone fireplace.

“What about the girls?” Defenses raised, Denni narrowed her gaze and geared up for a fight.

“They all look so innocent. You’d never know from these pictures that one of them could be responsible for the mishaps around here.”

“They look innocent because they are innocent.”

“We’ll see.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so sure one of my girls is responsible for these things, Reece. Again, what would they possibly have to gain?”

He lifted his eyebrow and she felt herself blush. “Detective Corrigan, I mean.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Reece is fine.” He gave her a shiny, white-toothed grin. “And I’m not so sure it’s one of them. Just checking out all of the possibilities. Denni.”

She smiled back, trying to calm her racing pulse. “First-name basis, eh? Doesn’t that seem a little friendly considering our positions? I shouldn’t have initiated it.”

“Maybe I like friendly.” His eyes captured hers and held. Denni couldn’t breathe. With every fiber of her being she wanted to believe that Reece truly found her appealing. But just as quickly, reason struck a dissonant chord and her chest tightened. He hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her over the course of the three-month investigation, so why now? All of a sudden he was softening his stance about the girls. Pretending he wasn’t so sure it was one of them when he’d never even considered anyone else before today.

She folded her arms. “All right, Corrigan. Just what are you trying to pull here?”

Reece couldn’t help but grin at Denni, face twisted into a fierce scowl and her feet planted on the floor as though she were digging in for the fight of her life.

“I’m not trying to pull anything. Can’t a guy think you’re cute and want to get to know you better?” He gave her another smile and watched her closely, looking for a crack in her armor.

She sniffed. “Oh, sure. You think I’m a real cutie, don’t you?” She shoved her hands onto her nicely rounded hips. “I’m exactly the same as I have been since you started slithering around here and you never looked twice before. As a matter of fact, I’ve recently put on about ten stress pounds. Real attractive, huh?”

Actually, it was. It gave her a softer, curvier look that kept him fighting to keep his eyes focused above her neck. This time he lost the battle and gave her a once-over. Three months of weekly or more visits had taken its toll on his reserve. Denni Mahoney was definitely under his skin.

She frowned and sent him a dismissive wave before he could voice his opinion. “It doesn’t matter. I know what you’re up to. Trying to get in on my good graces so that you have better access to the girls. Well, just forget it. And you know what? You can just leave.” She pointed to the door.

Okay, so maybe he should have eased into the new strategy. Although, he did still have an ace in the hole. “I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

“You are if I say so.”

“I came here to pump out your basement, and I don’t plan to leave until I do it.”

“Because I’m so attractive you mean? You just can’t help but be my knight in shining armor?”

Before he could answer, two of Denni’s girls entered the room. Searching his memory, he drummed up their names. The tall one he knew was Shelley Bartlett, a brunette with wire-framed glasses and a minor slump in her shoulders that he imagined was due to her height. She stared at him then moved on, her expression softening as her gaze rested on Denni.

“Hey, Denni.” Rissa Kelley practically bounced into the room. Plump and rosy-cheeked, she had a quick smile and a touch of a Southern drawl that was obviously put-on since he knew she’d lived her entire life in central Missouri. “Cate said we’re ready to start cleaning up the basement.”

“Just about.” Denni looked past the girls toward the door. “Didn’t Cate come back with you?”

“She started feeling a little dizzy,” Leigh said, entering the room like a black cloud. Reece tensed. Was she going to explode into a vicious downpour? “I told her to stay in bed. She shouldn’t be doing this kind of work, anyway.”

Denni nodded. “Agreed. I’ll check on her in a little while.” She turned to Reece. “Are you ready to get started?”

“Isn’t there one more of you?” Reece asked, determined not to be completely left out.

Leigh rolled her eyes. “How observant, Detective.”

Oh, boy, would he like to slap the cuffs on that one and toss her into a cell. He’d lay odds she was behind this whole thing. Only, Denni had brought up a good point earlier. What was her motive? But he dismissed the thought. Not everyone needed a motive to try to harm the very people doing their best to help. Jonathon had been proof of that, hadn’t he?

No one had seen the trouble beneath Jonathon’s wall of pretense until the damage was done. And this Leigh Sommers had all the earmarks of making another Jonathon—a chip on her shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore, the black leather jacket, and an unconventional style that shouted rebellion. Oh, yeah. Leigh was trouble. Big trouble with a sweet smile beneath that street-smart exterior. She had the sort of smile that made a person want to give her the benefit of the doubt, encourage her to make good grades and earn her degree so she could rise above her upbringing.

But he knew better, and he would not be fooled again. “Forget it, Corrigan. I’m not interested in a bald, aging cop.” Leigh’s accusing tone shocked him to the present. He caught her glare and threw it right back.

“Believe me, trouble-making, body-pierced teens aren’t exactly my type.”

A deep blush appeared instantly on her cheeks. “I’m twenty-one,” she muttered without making eye contact.

Feeling sufficiently back in control, Reece turned to Denni. “I asked about the other girl.”

Denni brushed past him, headed toward the basement door. “Fran’s showering. She’s been out looking for work all day.”

“I thought all the girls were already working.”

“Fran is perpetually between jobs.” Leigh rolled her eyes.

“Leigh!” Shelley glared at the other girl as if to say, “Don’t diss one of our own in front of the C-O-P.”

Reece gave her a lopsided grin. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I won’t automatically shoot her to the top of my suspect list just because she’s jobless. It happens.”

But he made a mental note. Someone without a steady income, “perpetually between jobs” rather, might just need to rip off her own benefactress for a little extra cash. Interesting new twist. Maybe he’d been concentrating on Leigh a little too much.

“You talking about me?” Fran entered the room, her face devoid of makeup. Wearing a blue T-shirt and ripped Levi’s, she looked like a normal college student. But then looks were deceiving.

“Well, Detective, if you seriously want to help us, then I suggest we get started pumping out the water.” Skepticism sparked in Denni’s eyes as though she knew full well what the news of Fran’s employment status had done to his list of suspects.

He winked at her and she blushed.

Inwardly he acknowledged that blush for what it was. She might not be a pushover for a compliment, but she was a woman. And it was becoming more evident that she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. He didn’t like the thought of using her feelings against her. But after months of a cold investigation, it might just be time to mix things up.

Chapter Three

With a gasp, Denni snatched up her soggy scrapbook from the drying floor. Her heart twisted inside her chest and she captured her bottom lip between her teeth.

How could she have been stupid enough to leave her cherished baby book downstairs? One rule of the house was to put things back where they belonged. Too bad she hadn’t followed her own stinking directive. She hadn’t even thought to look for it when she’d first seen the flood.

Her mother had faithfully contributed to the baby book filled with childhood highlights that extended to Denni’s graduation day. She’d presented the book with a red ribbon tied around it the day Denni left for college.

Denni lifted a loose photograph next to where the book had lain. She picked it up. Her favorite picture of Mom and her. Denni had been three years old and mom was swinging her around the room. Mom’s ringing laughter was almost audible through the picture.

Mom had been like that. All fun and surprises and full of hugs and warmth. That first day of adulthood for Denni had been the last time she’d seen her mother alive. Two months later, the most important woman in Denni’s life had collided with a drunk driver and had instantly gone to be with Jesus. And now the photo was ruined, half the ink washed away.

“You planning to eat supper?”

Yanked from the memory of her mother’s face, Denni turned toward the steps, following the sound of Reece’s voice. She squared her shoulders and forced control.

“I came down to see if you’re going to have pizza. Those girls can pack it away like a high-school football team. If you don’t hurry, you’ll be out of luck.”

Discovering her most cherished possession soaked and ruined had effectively robbed Denni of her appetite. She shrugged.

“They can have it. I’ll grab something later if I’m hungry.”

He walked toward her, his boots squishing on the puddled concrete. “Hey, you okay?” He glanced down at the book in her hand and his face sobered. “Special memories?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

“Maybe you can salvage some of it.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, a knee-jerk reaction to a sympathetic tone and his warm, gentle touch on her shoulder.

“Let me take a look at it,” he said softly. “You know men are the problem solvers of the world.” He gave her a lopsided grin.

Gratefully, she surrendered her book and the ruined photograph, hoping against hope that he’d give her the solution her muddled brain couldn’t seem to form. She honestly didn’t know if he was putting her on or not with that boyish grin, but if he could figure out a way to save her keepsakes, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He carried the book across the room and set it on top of her laundry table. Carefully, he opened the cover. He smiled.

“This is you?”

She nodded.

“Cute.”

Rolling her eyes, she stepped away. “Thanks.” She enjoyed the way he handled her memories with gentle care, his long fingers working open the damaged pages.

“These pages are removable,” he said. “If we take them out and spread them on the table to dry, you should be able to salvage most of the album. They won’t be like they were before, but at least you’ll still have your special memories.”

“It’s sweet of you to try to help.”

“It means a lot to you, huh?”

“Everyone treasures their baby book.”

“Not everyone has one.”

Something in his voice alerted her instincts. She set aside the first baby page then angled her head to meet his gaze. Her breath caught. Raw pain flashed through his eyes, instantly, briefly, and then it was gone. But she’d seen it. Had caught him unawares. She suddenly wanted to discover what made this man tick.

“Want to talk about it?”

He gave a short laugh. “About what? Not having a baby book?”

She shrugged “It obviously bothers you.”

“Honey, you have a lot to learn about men.” That condescending tone caused her to clench her fists and fight to keep from socking him. It made her feel foolish. And she didn’t like that feeling. Especially since he was right. What did she know about men? She’d never had a long-standing boyfriend and had only gone on a few dates. Still, he didn’t have to be so hateful.

With a sniff she turned back to her salvaging efforts. “And you have a lot to learn about being nice to someone who wants to help.”

He drew a ragged breath, but she refused to look again. Let him wallow in his childhood pain. She wouldn’t be his punching bag.

“Hey.” His fingers touched her shoulder, brushing back an errant strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail.

“What?”

His lips curved upward into a smile. “I’m a jerk.”

Searching his slightly self-mocking smile, she rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder. “So tell me something I don’t already know.”

A chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “Forgive me?”

“Sure, Corrigan.”

Amid the whirring of the fans and dehumidifiers, they stood side by side saving Denni’s memories.

Reece couldn’t help but feel that he was invading a very private part of Denni’s life as he dabbed page after page of her baby book and set them aside to continue drying. He felt, rather than saw, her chest rise as she took a shuddering breath. He glanced at the page she held. On it, a photograph of a little girl holding a baby. The handwritten caption beneath read: Denni, Always The Little Mother.

“That was me. Always mothering anyone or anything that would let me.” She pronounced the statement as though not really speaking to him.

“Who’s the baby?”

She jerked her gaze to his. “What? Oh.” A smile tipped the corners of her lips. “My little sister, Keri. She just got married a few weeks ago. Guess who was her maid of honor?”

“I’m sure you looked better than the bride. The bridesmaids always do.”

She scowled and Reece could have kicked himself. “Yeah, well. That’s never been my experience. Believe me. And yes, I’ve been a bridesmaid more than twice—four times if you really want to know—and you know what that means.”

Could he ever say the right thing? He glanced back at the page and sought to get her mind off the whole “three times a bridesmaid never a bride” scenario. “So you always played the little mother, eh?”

A sigh left her and she set the page down on the table. “Yeah. I have two sisters. Keri and an older sister named Raven. I’ll probably be her bridesmaid too if she ever stops yanking around on guys’ hearts long enough to fall in love.”

“Tell me about your sisters.” Instinctively, he knew it was the right move, knew that she needed to get something off her chest, not to mention her need to stop thinking about weddings.

“Raven takes after our mom. Free-spirited, independent, a real heartbreaker.” She lifted a page from the table. “This is her on my graduation day.”

“Pretty.”

“That’s putting it mildly. Raven was and still is the beauty of the family. Keri was the cute-as-a-button baby. I was…well…I was the bossy one.” She gave a short laugh. “Mom always said I was born in the wrong order.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know. The oldest is supposed to be the bossy, controlling one. Raven just wanted to be left alone to do her own thing. Still does.” She cut her glance to him. “Where are you in the family line?”

Expelling a short laugh, Reece spoke before he thought.

“Which one?”

“Which one what?”

A sudden image of family after family flashed across his mind like a slide show, blinking faster and faster until all of the different foster mothers and fathers and foster brothers and sisters jumbled together into one enormous group. Then they vanished and in their place one terrifying image remained. Jonathon. Standing over the only two people Reece had ever felt truly loved him. The teen’s eyes had been more wild than ever that night as he looked at Reece. “I told you, man. I told you I was going to do it.”

Thomas and Lydia Ide. The only two grownups he’d ever loved. He’d called them Mom and Dad in his mind but had never given in and said it aloud. He regretted that now. It would have meant so much to Mom.

His throat constricted. He coughed into his fist, trying to ease the ache.

“It’s getting late. I’ll be back in the morning to help move the furniture outside. It’s supposed to be sunny all day tomorrow. If everyone pitches in, you should be ready for lunch guests on Monday.”

Her soft brown eyes clouded in disappointment. She squared her shoulders and respected his need to change the subject. “I appreciate all you did today, Reece. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

Reece nodded, but turned away. He didn’t want to be drawn in by soft sentiments. There were too many emotions bombarding him at the moment as it was. The objective was to gain her trust, not lose his heart.

Denni heard the door open slowly then click shut. She glanced at the digital readout on the clock next to her bed and sighed—12:18 a.m. Fran again.

Closing her book, she set it aside and pushed back the quilt. She walked down the steps, the soft glow from the kitchen alerting her to Fran’s whereabouts.

The muted sound of the refrigerator shutting made her smile. It reminded her of nights when she and her sisters would come in after dates. There was always an ice-cream powwow around the table.

She stepped into the kitchen. “So, you waited up just like a mommy, huh?”

Reality crashed the party in the form of Fran’s sarcastic tone. Her tiny frame leaned against the counter. She munched on a slice of leftover pizza, and sipped a can of cola.

“Not exactly like a mother,” Denni said, not allowing her tone to betray her irritation. “More like a concerned friend.”

A short laugh from the girl brought a frown to Denni’s brow. “What’s bothering you, Fran?”

“Nothing.” She gulped the drink, glaring over the aluminum rim. “I just don’t know why you treat us like we’re fourteen years old. That’s all. I swear it’s almost as bad as that bat next door peeping out of her window at us every time we make a move. Like we’re always doing something wrong, or something.”

“I don’t necessarily think you’re doing something wrong, but you know the rules of the house.” Denni observed the blond-headed girl. Gorgeous enough to have been a model if not for the perpetual sneer on her face. “You didn’t say goodbye after dinner. I was worried.”

“Worried? About me, or worried that I won’t find a job? If all your girls aren’t productive contributors to the betterment of our great society, you might be considered a failure.”

Taken aback, Denni grabbed a paper plate from the cabinet and helped herself to a slice of pizza to distract herself from the sudden hurt. “Come and sit with me, okay? Let’s talk about this.”

Fran’s expression softened, but she gave a careless shrug. “Whatever.”

“How was your day? We didn’t have a chance to talk earlier, what with cleaning the basement.” Denni would have to deal with the girl’s failure to make curfew, but not now. Not when Fran was on the defensive.

“I didn’t find a job if that’s what you’re asking.” She slouched in the seat, propping her feet on the chair cattycornered from her.

“I wasn’t asking.”

Obviously, something—or someone—had slapped a huge chip on her shoulder today and she was raring for a fight. Denni refused to play into it.

“I looked for one. Jobs just aren’t so easy to find when you don’t have a degree.”

“I know. I could try to help you if you want me to.”

In a flash, Fran shoved up from her chair, tipping it. It crashed to the floor. Anger flashed in her eyes as she faced Denni. “Would you get off my back? I said I’d find something.”

Stay calm. Don’t kick her out just because she’s made you uncomfortable.

Scared was more like it. Fran had exhibited a violent side more than once. But the tendency had never been directed at Denni or any of the girls as far as Denni knew. Slow-moving traffic, barking dogs, inattentive waitresses. All had suffered Fran’s sharp tongue.

Denni stood and faced the shaking girl. “Fran, I know you’re trying to get a job, and I understand how frustrating it is that you can’t find anything. But I can’t allow you to treat me this way.”

“What are you going to do, kick me out?” The girl persisted in her bravado, but Denni saw the slight tremble of her lip.

Thank you for letting me see that, Lord.

Without it, Denni probably would have asked her to find another place to live. Instead she stepped forward and lightly gripped Fran by her upper arms. “No, I am not going to kick you out. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

Mouth agape, Fran stared through unbelievably blue eyes. “You’re kidding me.”

Denni shook her head. “Of course I’m not, but we have to reestablish the rules first.”

Fran rolled her eyes. “Figures.”

“Especially when someone is obviously trying to hurt us, or scare us off, Fran. I want to know you girls are safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” she muttered.

Clamping her lips tightly, Denni dropped her hands from Fran’s arms. “I don’t doubt your abilities to handle yourself, but the rules exist for a reason and everyone abides by them. When you’re not going to be home by curfew you have to call and let us know where you are, who you’re with and how close to being home you are at the moment. Working late is the only exception to that rule.”

As if by divine emphasis, the lock rattled and the front door opened. A second later, Leigh came into the kitchen. Just after Reece had gone home earlier, Leigh had been called in to cover another girl’s shift at the barbecue shack where she waited tables.

“What are you two doing up so late?”

“Getting lectured,” Fran groused.

“I’m sure you deserve it.” Leigh smiled to remove the sting, but Denni could see in the hardness of her eyes that she meant it. Leigh worked hard at school and at work. Her payoff was a 4.0 average and a boss who begged her to take on a management role at the restaurant. But Leigh wanted none of it. She was going to be a physical therapist and she didn’t need to be tied down to extra responsibilities and more hours at work.

Denni could see attitude sweep over Fran, but the girl knew better than to tangle with Leigh. Abandoned before the age of ten to the streets, Leigh had survived until a police officer found her hooking at the age of fourteen. The girl knew how to take care of herself.

“We’ll finish this in the morning,” Denni said.

Fran nodded and stomped from the kitchen. Denni watched her go, wishing she knew what to say to make her understand that the world was not out to get her.

“Sheesh, what’s her problem this time?” At Leigh’s irritated tone, Denni turned back to face her.

“She missed curfew.”

“What’s with the chair knocked over? Did she threaten you?” Leigh’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Denni, tell me the truth.”

Denni walked to the chair and righted it. “Of course not. She just stood up too fast and the chair fell over.” Which was true of only the barest description of the event.

Obviously not buying it, Leigh shook her head. “If she ever threatens you, tell me. I’ll make sure she never does it again.”

A warmth filled Denni at Leigh’s fierce loyalty. “Thanks, Leigh. But trust me when I tell you Fran wouldn’t hurt me. She just overreacts.” She grinned. “Like someone else I know.”

Leigh chuckled and slid her arm around Denni’s shoulders. “You gave us all a chance to make something of our lives. I’m grateful. And no one is going to hurt you while I have anything to say about it.”

Slipping her arm around the girl’s slender waist, Denni gave her a little squeeze then let her go. “I’m going to wipe down the counters and table before I go to bed. But you go on up. I know you’re exhausted.”

A yawn stretched Leigh’s mouth at the suggestion. “You’re right. I’m going to bed. Corrigan coming tomorrow?” She said it like the name caused a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Yes. He’ll be here early with some of his friends to move the furniture outside so it can dry and air out.”

“Well, maybe he’ll be good for something after all.” She stopped. “You’re not by any chance falling for this guy, are you?”

Heat crept to Denni’s cheeks. “You don’t have to worry. Detective Corrigan doesn’t have any interest in me beyond this case.”

A dubious half smile lifted one corner of Leigh’s lips. “Yeah, right.” She opened her mouth as if to comment further, but stopped and cocked her head. She frowned. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” But she did hear it…water running through the pipes. As if…Denni’s heart nearly beat from her chest. “Not again!” Leigh outran her to the basement door. She flew down the steps.

“It’s coming in again!”

Without waiting for an answer, Denni sped through the kitchen to the back door and outside. The water was running full force. With a frustrated cry, she twisted the handle until the water trickled, dripped, then stopped. She dropped to her knees on the ground, tears of anger streaming down her face. Leigh reached her and stood over her, hands on hips, her chest heaving.

Denni moaned. “Why would anyone want to stop this project? Why?”

“I don’t know, Denni. But not much water got in this time. We can use the shopvac to get rid of it. Obviously whoever turned it on didn’t expect us to hear it so soon.” Leigh squatted down and began twisting the handle.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking this off. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before.”

“Good idea.”

They returned to the house and Leigh dropped the handle into the junk drawer. “Well, I’m going to bed.” She gave Denni a quick hug. “Don’t worry. The basement is officially off-limits to anyone trying to cause damage.”

Denni nodded. “’Night.”

She double-checked the doors to make sure they were all locked, then headed to bed. Staring up at the dark ceiling, Denni went back over the events of the night. What if Reece was right? Had Fran turned on the faucet before coming inside? Maybe that’s why she’d been so defensive. Or…Denni cringed at the very thought. What if Leigh hadn’t really heard the water? What if she’d actually just known the water was running? After all, Denni hadn’t heard it the entire time she and Fran had been sitting in the kitchen. How had Leigh?

Her chest tightened and she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She tiptoed across the room and back down the stairs. In the kitchen, she slid open the junk drawer and lifted out the faucet handle. Back in her bedroom, she twisted the lock on her bedroom door—the first time she’d locked it in the two years since opening the house. With the cold handle still in her hand, she headed back to her bed. She stared at it for a long time. Imagining five scenarios. Each girl creeping into the night and turning on the water. With a shudder, she placed the handle in her bedside drawer and settled back against her pillow.

She closed her eyes, but sleep refused to come. For the first time in the three months since the first mishap, she was beginning to wonder…was Reece right? Was one of her girls out to cause her harm?

Chapter Four

Reece stared at his forty-inch, flat-screen TV—a perk that went along with being a thirty-five-year-old law-enforcement officer with no responsibilities to anyone but himself. Not that he had much time to watch the thing. Monday was his day to eat a home-cooked meal—even though he was the one to cook it—and catch up on a week’s worth of recorded TV shows.

Today, however, the efforts of a half-dozen sunburned, undernourished millionaire-wannabes failed to keep his attention and his mind drifted miles away from the so-called reality show playing out before him.

The memory of Denni’s neighbor tossed back and forth in his brain. He hadn’t even asked her name. What kind of a cop was he anyway?

Could the old lady have sabotaged Mahoney House? She certainly had motive, since she’d made no secret of her objection to the girls living in her neighborhood. But what about the thefts? Theoretically, he supposed, it was possible for her to have sneaked into the house and lifted the items. Especially if she had an accomplice. But why would the obviously well-to-do lady steal? Just to scare Denni and the girls away?

A vigorous rub of his sleek, shaved head did nothing to alleviate the frustration at his inability to put two and two together. Times like these were rare. He could count on one hand the number of cases he’d failed to crack in his past fifteen years on the force. And despite the fact that he had the best record of any of his fellow officers by a long shot, he still didn’t like the math. Failure wasn’t in his vocabulary.

To make matters worse, his captain had been asking questions about the Mahoney case lately—enough that Reece was beginning to avoid the guy. After three months, the captain was getting close to filing the case in the back of the cabinet and assigning Reece another one. He hadn’t said as much, but Reece could read him like a book, and his stomach sank with dread every time they made eye contact.

If Denni had reported the basement-flooding incident it might have given oomph to the case and roused the captain’s interest again. As it was, Reece knew his days on the Mahoney investigation were numbered—at least in an official capacity.

A sense of urgency nipped his insides, and he shifted in his overstuffed recliner. He conjured the image of the auburn-haired Denni. She didn’t deserve to have her dream snuffed out. He’d never known anyone quite like her before and he had to admit that at least fifty percent of his reason for wanting to solve the case was because he was tired of seeing the two lines of worry creasing her brow just above her perky little nose. A smile touched his lips. Obeying impulse, he reached for the phone and lifted the receiver. He dialed her number by heart.

One ring, two…He frowned at three, and growled at four, and was just about to hang up when a breathless voice filtered through the wires. “Hello?”

“Denni? What’s wrong?”

“Reece?”

“Yeah.” Just the sound of her voice raised his heart rate. “Everything okay?”

“No. Everything is just rotten!”

Her emphatic response took him aback. He raised his eyebrows. “Another incident?” This time he would definitely check the neighbor lady’s whereabouts.

“Not like that.” She didn’t even try to hide her irritation, and that irritated him. “Why are you so suspicious all the time?”

Okay, he hadn’t expected to get barked at. “Because I’m a cop. And because there’s an ongoing investigation surrounding you.”

“Well, this has nothing to do with your investigation. I just spoke to my caterer, who should have been here setting up about a half hour ago. Only, she insists the luncheon was cancelled. Which of course is ridiculous, because why on earth would I cancel the most important lunch of my life? Regardless, she has nothing she can prepare on a moment’s notice, so I have nothing to feed the ten people who could be deciding the future of Mahoney project.”

Her voice caught, halting her rant, and Reece stopped breathing as the hero in him rose to the surface.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t really have a choice. Cancel.” Defeat and tears mingled in her voice.

Reece kicked down the footrest on the recliner and grabbed for his brown leather sandals. “Get the dining room all set up. Don’t worry about the food. I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

“Forty-five minutes? Reece, do you realize the luncheon is in exactly—oh, good grief—two hours and fifty-four minutes.”

“Have a little faith, woman. And trust me.”

Denni watched, fascinated and eternally grateful, as Reece slid another grilled chicken breast from the indoor grill. Dressed in a pair of baggy jean shorts and a T-shirt, sleeves rolled up and straining over bulging sun-bronzed biceps, he was way too distracting on a day when she needed all of her wits about her. On the other hand, if his distracting personage hadn’t shown up bearing three bags of groceries, she’d be sunk.

“Hey, you going to slice those peppers? I need to get them on the grill.”

Denni jumped at the sound of Reece’s slightly urgent tone. “Sorry,” she muttered and turned her attention back to the task she’d been assigned by the chef: slicing red bell peppers to add to the mix. She had to admit the guy had saved the day. Grilled chicken wraps on whole-wheat tortillas and a large Caesar salad made a perfect luncheon. It spoke of class, but didn’t look like she was trying too hard. And best of all, the entire meal would be ready in less than an hour, and she would still have time for a quick shower before the guests began arriving. The girls had pitched in and prepared iced tea, coffee and strawberry shortcakes for dessert.

The thought of their worry when she’d made the wretched announcement of the caterer’s incompetence sent affection surging through her. And she felt guilty for ever entertaining the notion that one of them might be out to close her down. She’d have to be careful from now on not to let herself be drawn into Reece’s world of suspicion.

“All done,” she announced, scooping up the sliced peppers and tossing them into a bowl. She walked across to the other counter where the grill sat. Intent on cubing the chicken, Reece looked up only briefly, as she set the bowl on the counter, but in that instant, he sent her a knee-weakening smile.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” Oh, be still my beating heart, she pleaded.

“Why don’t you go get yourself ready?” he suggested. “I can finish up here. By the time you come back, I’ll have everything cleaned up and you’ll be all set to wow the powers that be.”

Could this guy possibly be the same man who had breezed in and out of her life at irregular times over the past three months? He couldn’t. But she could definitely get used to this Reece Corrigan. A simple thank-you just didn’t seem appropriate at a time like this. Still, she had to say something. “Reece, I don’t know what I would have done without you today. I’ll find a way to repay you.”

He shrugged. “It was only around fifty dollars. Consider it my contribution to your life’s ambition.”

Fifty dollars! She’d forgotten about the grocery bill! “For crying out loud, why didn’t you say something? Let me get my purse.” She reached for her bag, which remained on the counter where she’d set it earlier when she’d frantically searched for the caterer’s card. That moment of panic seemed a million years ago, now that all was well.

Reece caught hold of her wrist. “Forget it. I wanted to do it.”

“But why?”

His gaze locked with hers, and the honesty in his eyes melted away the periphery until he was all she saw. “Let’s not analyze it,” he said softly.

Denni nodded, swallowing hard. Reece released her wrist and jerked his head toward the doorway. “Now go, make yourself presentable.” He turned back to the meal preparation, obviously finished with any discussion.

There was nothing for her to do but follow his instructions. At the door, she turned. “You will stay for lunch, won’t you?” It was the least she could do, she silently admonished herself. To allow him to save the day and then not even bother to invite him to join them would have been plain rude. And her mother hadn’t raised her to be ill-mannered.

“I’m not exactly dressed for a luncheon,” he said.

“I disagree. No one specified dressy.” By the dubious look on his face, she knew he wasn’t buying it. Everyone would be dressed in suits or other professional clothes. As a matter of fact, she’d intended to dress professionally herself, but if it would make him feel more comfortable…

“Dress appropriately, Denni,” he said as though reading her thoughts. “I don’t need to stay for lunch.”

She hesitated, wanting to insist, but afraid she’d sound needy and desperate. A single thirty-something woman clinging to the man who had come to her rescue. But she did want to prolong his presence. She couldn’t help it.

“I’ll call later to see how everything turns out.”

Denni’s eyes grew wide at his knowing smile. Had she said that thing about wanting to prolong his presence aloud? Well, she couldn’t have him thinking she wanted him to stick around because of some personal attachment or crush or something. So she did all she knew to do. Gave a shrug. “Whatever. Just don’t forget to take your grill home.”

He chuckled. “I won’t.”

She hurried up the stairs to the solace of the bathroom where she could soak away her humiliation and be alone with her confusing emotions, which seemed increasingly to be favoring Reece Corrigan.

Reece was just drying the last of the mixing bowls, knives and cutting boards and putting them into the cabinets when the doorbell rang. He looked around. The women of the house had adjourned upstairs, presumably to get ready for the luncheon. Personally, Reece thought it was risky on Denni’s part to include the pregnant Cate, the body-pierced, tattooed Leigh and the explosive Fran, but no one had asked his opinion, and he knew offering it to Denni would only undo the good he’d done by making his famous grilled chicken wraps and saving Denni’s behind for the day.

The bell chimed again and Leigh called down, “Corrigan, get the door, already. Can’t you see we’re busy? Or do you want us to come down in our skivvies?”

He was almost sure he heard idiot added, but had no solid proof.

He put on his best smile and opened the door. Four professionally dressed people stood on the porch. One woman, dressed in a navy-blue suit and three men, similarly clad. They gave him the once-over, setting his defenses on edge. Couldn’t a guy wear a pair of shorts during his time off?

“I’m afraid we must have the wrong address,” the tallish woman said. “We’re looking for Miss Mahoney?”

“Yeah, she’s taking a shower.” Immediately he regretted giving into his wicked side—the side of him that loved to shock women like this piece of work standing in front of him.

“And you are…?”

“Oh, excuse me…” He wiped his hands on his apron—oh, brother, he was still wearing the apron—and offered his hand. “Detective Corrigan. I’m a friend of Denni’s.” He stepped aside. “Won’t you come in?”

With quadruple curt nods, they stepped inside, each set of eyes darting around the living room, beginning their perusal before they even got comfortable.

The doorbell chimed again, and Reece mentally prepared himself for another once-over. This time, however, Denni showed up, her disturbing floral scent breezing into the room ahead of her. “Oh, good, you’ve all met Reece.” She turned to him. “Would you please get the door while I show these guests to the dining room?”

Suddenly wishing for a three-piece suit, Reece realized he was staying for lunch.

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