Текст книги "About that Night"

Автор книги: Beth Andrews

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

C.J. WAS FREEZING his ass off. It didn’t help that his ass was bare, that he was practically begging a woman to give him a chance, to give them a real chance at being together. Being happy.

Being a real couple.

“No.”

That one word went right through him, cutting him like a knife. “What?” he asked, because there had to be some mistake. When he asked a woman for anything, when he asked anyone for anything, they always said yes.

There was no way he could ask a woman to spend a few lousy days with him—to basically take a mini vacation—and have her say no. To tell her he was falling in love with her and hear her beg him not to say it again.

“I can’t,” Ivy said.

He wanted to swipe the lamp off the bedside table, to rant and rave and demand she stop being so damned stubborn.

Demand that she feel the way about him, that he felt about her.

He’d opened up to her. Had given her the key to his heart.

And she didn’t want it. Didn’t want him. He pulled on his pants before facing her again.

“You mean you won’t,” he said, the words ripped from his throat.

She stepped toward him, her hand reaching for him, but he backed up. He couldn’t handle her touching him. Not now. Not after what had happened between them last night, not when he was so raw now. “You want things I don’t. Marriage will never be in the cards for me. I’ve always known that. But that doesn’t mean anything has to change between us.”

She sounded so hopeful, looked a wreck, as if this was tearing her up inside as much as it was him, but that couldn’t be true. If it was, she’d see that they were meant to be together, that they should raise their child together.

Unless...

“Do you love me?” he asked, never having asked the question before, ever. He’d always known where he stood with people, from his family to his friends to his lovers to people he worked with and people who worked for him. But now...this...he had to know.

“Clinton, I...” She pressed her lips together. “I care about you.”

“That’s a start.” A good one, if not exactly a declaration of her undying affection. As a matter of fact, she didn’t look very happy to be admitting it at all. “Do you think the feelings you have for me now could grow into love?”

“How am I supposed to know that?” she cried, throwing her hands up. “I have no idea what the future will bring.”

He shouldn’t push her but he had to know. “It’s not that hard a question, Ivy,” he said, unable to stand there and listen to her placate him with useless, meaningless words. “Do you want to be with me? Do you see yourself building a future with me? A family? Yes or no. Damn it,” he snapped when she hesitated. “They’re simple questions, ones that deserve an answer. I deserve an answer.”

She swallowed. Stared over his right shoulder, then met his eyes. Sighed. “I don’t know.”

And just like that, with one simple whispered confession, it didn’t matter how much money he had, how much power, how he lived like a freaking king. He didn’t have Ivy and would never have her. He had nothing.

“Then I guess there’s nothing else to say.” He wasn’t about to take his shirt from her, so he grabbed his keys and the suitcase he’d brought upstairs with him last night. “I’ll have my attorney get in touch with you about child support. We can work out a custody agreement later. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me be present for the birth.”

“Of course. Clinton,” she said, walking toward him, so beautiful it hurt to look at her. “Don’t go. We can go back to the way things were. How they have been.”

“Go back to seeing each other only on weekends? To me giving and giving, constantly trying to prove myself to you? To prove you can trust me?” He shook his head. “No. I won’t go back. And you won’t move forward, at least not with me, so I’ll move forward on my own.” He went to the door. Opened it but didn’t dare look back, not when everything inside him screamed at him not to go. Not to let her go. “Goodbye, Ivy.”

And he walked out before he lost the last of his pride and accepted whatever small scraps of emotion she tossed his way.

* * *

THOUGH IT HAD been over three weeks since Clinton had walked out of her life, Ivy could still remember that moment as if it had happened yesterday. She’d never forget how he’d looked, so crushed, so angry. Just as she’d never forget how it had felt as if her heart was breaking to watch him go. How she’d curled up on the bed, inhaling his scent from his shirt and cried, wishing things could have been different.

Wishing she could be different.

She’d thought...had hoped...he’d come back. That he’d change his mind. That he’d realize what they had was good enough. There was no reason to risk it by tossing around I love yous and moving in together with the ultimate goal of getting married. No, she’d done the right thing. He was probably just being noble, thinking he had to offer her a commitment because he’d gotten her pregnant.

She carried a serving tray of blueberry scones into Bradford House’s dining room. Smiled at the elderly couple staying in the Blue Room as she set the tray down.

She missed Clinton like crazy, and he hadn’t even called. Had just had his attorney contact her to set up child support payments. The amount was more than fair, and she wouldn’t have to work should she choose not to.

She wanted to work, needed it, which was why she was glad she had a shift at O’Riley’s tonight. Luckily, Kane hadn’t treated her any differently since she and Clinton had stopped seeing each other, but she knew he wondered what was going on. He might act as if he didn’t care about his brother, but she didn’t believe it.

He had asked Clinton to be his best man. She couldn’t help but think that had been an overture on Kane’s part. The first step at a possible reconciliation between them. She hoped she was right and that they would be able to mend the rift between them. She knew how important Clinton’s family was to him. Even Kane.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside the kitchen, went directly to the sink and stared out the window. Summer was over and school had started last week. It wouldn’t be long before the nip of fall entered the air and the leaves started changing. The baby kicked. Hard. Ivy smiled. She was now seven months along but she hadn’t done much to get ready for the baby, a part of her still hoping Clinton would come back. She hated that he was missing it, that he wasn’t able to enjoy the preparations.

“Did you hear?” Fay asked breathlessly as she came into the room followed by Gracie holding Mitch’s hand.

Ivy turned. Frowned to see Fay so obviously upset. “Hear what?”

“Charlotte Ellison just called to postpone her bridal shower,” Fay said. “One of Kane’s brothers has been hurt, and she’s not sure if they’ll be traveling to see him soon or not.”

Everything inside Ivy stilled. A roaring filled her head.

“What happened?” Ivy demanded. “Which brother? How hurt is he?”

“Not Clinton,” Fay said, rushing over to take both of Ivy’s hands in hers. “I’m so sorry. I should have told you that right away.”

Ivy was shaking and had to sit down. She almost dropped right to the floor, but Fay helped her around the island and onto a stool, got her a glass of water while Gracie made Mitchell a peanut-butter sandwich.

“It wasn’t Clinton?” Ivy asked, needing to know for sure. “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. It’s the one in the marines.”

“Zach,” Ivy breathed, relieved beyond measure that Clinton was safe and whole. “Is he going to be all right?”

“I don’t know,” Fay said. “From what little Charlotte told me, it’s really bad. The Humvee he was driving triggered a roadside bomb. Two of the men with him were killed instantly and he was severely injured.”

Oh, no. Poor Zach. And poor Clinton. He must be terrified. And going crazy that there was nothing he could do to help, to fix it, to make sure his brother pulled through.

Fay nudged the water glass in Ivy’s hand. “Take a sip.”

Ivy did so but her throat was so tight, she could barely swallow.

“You should call him,” Fay said gently.

Ivy didn’t pretend not to know who Fay was referring to. She pulled her phone out, needing to hear Clinton’s voice, but put it on the counter when she realized he wouldn’t want to hear from her. His brother had been severely injured and he hadn’t even told her. Hadn’t reached out to her.

“He won’t want to hear from me,” Ivy said quietly.

Fay brushed Ivy’s hair back. Squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure he will.”

“Fay’s right,” Gracie said from the table where she was cutting the crust off Mitch’s sandwich. “The cowboy needs you. You should definitely call.”

Ivy shook her head. The thought of someone needing her was terrifying. And thrilling. “I hurt him.”

Gracie swiped peanut butter from the knife with her forefinger. “We figured as much. But that’s not the reason you won’t call him.”

“It’s not?” Ivy asked.

Sucking the peanut butter from her finger, the teen shook her head. “No. You’re not worried he’s still mad or even that he won’t forgive you. You’re scared. You’ve been afraid of him since the night you met.”

“What are you talking about?” Fay asked, which was good, since Ivy was unable to form any words.

“There was something between them from the moment they met,” Gracie said, twisting the lid back onto the peanut-butter jar. “That kind of connection, especially when it’s instantaneous, can be frightening. So it’s easier to pretend it doesn’t exist. Safer, too. It’s scary to want something so much. Especially if there’s a chance you won’t get it. Or worse, that you will and then lose it again.”

Ivy wanted to laugh, wanted to tell Gracie that she was crazy, that her theories were ridiculous.

But she knew, deep in her heart, the teenager was right.

She’d let fear run her life. But no more.

Grabbing her phone, she got to her feet. “I’m really sorry to leave you in a bind,” she told Fay, “but I’m taking a few days off.”

Knowing how stubborn Clinton was, those few days would probably be more like a week. But she’d take as long as she needed to convince him to give her, to give them, another chance.

Fay waved that away. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll manage just fine.”

Ivy gave her a grateful hug then turned and embraced Gracie warmly. “Thank you,” she whispered into the teen’s curly hair.

Gracie leaned back and grinned. “What’s the point of having friends if they can’t tell you when you’re being an idiot?”

Ivy laughed for the first time in what seemed like weeks, so happy to have these two women in her life. “Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” Fay and Gracie said at the same time as Ivy raced off to face her greatest fear.

A man with the power to break her heart.

* * *

C.J. PACED THE space between his desk and the sofa in his home office. He had work to do but he couldn’t keep his focus. Not when he was so worried about Zach. He hated waiting, but that’s about all he’d done since he’d gotten word about Zach’s injuries. Wait on call after call, from doctors to tell him how Zach’s surgery had gone. From nurses to let him know if his brother had survived the night, if he was in pain, what they were doing for him next.

Once Zach’s condition had been stable enough for him to travel, he’d been transported to a hospital in Germany but C.J. had no idea how long it would be before his brother would be stateside again.

He wiped a hand down his face. He hated waiting, and he hated feeling so useless. At least he’d been able to get Zach’s mother and younger half sister on a flight to Germany. He knew Zach would rather have them there than any member of his father’s family.

But now there was absolutely nothing C.J. could do to help his brother.

The intercom buzzed and he answered it.

“Mr. Bartasavich,” Paul from the front desk said, “there’s a woman to see you but her name isn’t on the list.”

Ever since word had gotten out about Zach’s injuries, the local media had been bugging his family for the full story. But C.J. wasn’t about to turn his brother’s sacrifice into a juicy snippet for the society page.

“Tell her I have no comment,” C.J. said. He turned away only to have the intercom buzz again.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Bartasavich,” Paul said quickly, “but the young lady has asked me to tell you that she’s not here for a quote. She has something of yours.”

C.J.’s scalp prickled. No. It couldn’t be. But a part of him, the traitorous part he tried to ignore, hoped it was Ivy. He pressed the button. “Send her up, Paul.”

“Yes, sir.”

He went into the foyer, ducked into the bathroom and checked his hair. Realized what he was doing and forced himself back out into the hall. It probably wasn’t even her. There was no reason for her to come all this way, not after the way they’d ended things.

But when someone knocked on the door five minutes later, he yanked it open, his heart in his throat.

And there she was. Ivy.

He blinked but she didn’t disappear. Not a hallucination. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d imagined her since he’d left Shady Grove. He’d catch a glimpse of blond hair, and his heart would stop. He’d hear a husky voice, and he’d think she was near. But it was always just his overactive imagination, conjuring her up, torturing him with the memory or her.

He wished he could forget about her, but she carried his baby. They would be tied together for the rest of their lives.

The Ivy before him was bigger and rounder than the one who’d worn his shirt as he’d begged her to love him.

She was real and she was here.

Shit.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked lowly, roughly.

“I came as soon as I heard,” she said. “How’s Zach?”

Clinton wanted to break down, wanted to lose himself in the fact that she was here. She might not love him, but she was here. For him. But he couldn’t. He had to be strong. “He might not pull through,” he told her blandly. He didn’t want her sympathy, though it filled her eyes. “He’s lost his right arm above the elbow and his right leg above the knee. He has massive internal injuries and a head injury. He’s...” C.J. had to stop to collect himself. “It’s touch and go each and every goddamn hour.”

His brother might die, and there was nothing C.J. could do to stop it. To help him. To save him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her hand over her mouth. “Clinton, I’m so, so sorry.”

She reached for him, and for a moment, he wanted to let her take him into her arms, wanted to rest his head on her shoulder and just hold her. But he couldn’t. He didn’t trust her. He’d given her his heart, and she’d tossed it back at him.

He stepped back. Told himself he shouldn’t feel bad at how crushed she looked as she slowly lowered her arms. “You shouldn’t have come,” he told her.

“I couldn’t stay away. You need me.”

Her words blew through him. “I needed you three weeks ago,” he reminded her. “I got over it.”

“Don’t say that.” She glanced down the empty hall. “Could I...could I come in?”

“You’re asking to come in? Given up breaking and entering?”

She held his gaze. “I am asking. I’m asking you to let me in, Clinton. Please.”

He couldn’t refuse her even when he wished he could. When he knew it would be better for him, less painful, to turn her away. With a sigh, he stepped aside. She brushed past him. She smelled the same, the familiar scent hitting him like a left jab. Her hair was down, falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She wore a deep burgundy top that molded to her stomach, high-heeled boots and jeans so tight, he had no idea how she’d even got them on her very pregnant frame.

Women and their endlessly fascinating mysteries.

He’d no sooner shut the door behind her when she shoved something at him. “Here,” she said, pressing an envelope into his hand. “This is for you.”

He frowned. Something told him not to open it but he couldn’t contain his curiosity.

“It’s a check,” she blurted.

“I can see that.” It was, indeed, a check. One drawn on her personal checking account made out to him for the amount of fifty thousand dollars. He put it back in the envelope, held it out to her. “I don’t want it.”

“I figured as much but I need you to take it.”

“Why? So you won’t owe me anything? So you won’t feel indebted to me?”

“So we can start over.”

He froze. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Didn’t trust what she was saying.

“I...I made a mistake,” she continued. “I was so scared when you asked me to move here with you, when you said you were falling in love with me, so terrified when you brought up marriage and the future. I pushed you away because I was scared.”

He narrowed his eyes, not daring to hope. “What are you saying?”

She inhaled deeply, rested her hands on her belly. “I miss you. I miss you so much I can barely breathe. I think about you all the time, and knowing I lost you because of my fear kills me. Please give me a second chance.”

He wanted to. It was pathetic how desperately he wanted to take her into his arms and tell her not to worry about it, that he was willing to take whatever scraps she would give him. But he had his pride, and his pride had always been his downfall. “I can’t, Ivy. I don’t want to be with you on weekends or several times a month. I want more than that. I deserve more than that and so do you and our child.”

“You’re right. It just took me some time to realize that. And I realize you might not forgive me, but I’m here to ask you to give me a second chance. I’m...I’m asking you to give me your heart, Clinton,” she said quietly, her voice unsteady. “I promise if you do, this time I’ll cherish it. And I’ll do my best to never hurt you again.”

He stared at her, wanting desperately to believe her but afraid to take that chance. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t form the words to tell her to go. To beg her to stay.

“Please,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “Please forgive me, Clinton. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry I lied to you after I told you I wouldn’t.”

“You lied?”

She sniffed. Nodded. “I told you I didn’t know if I could fall in love with you, but I already do love you. I love you. So much. I’ve never said that to anyone before, never thought I could feel for someone the way I feel about you. Please don’t walk away from me again.”

He was shaken to his core. He could see the truth of her words in her eyes. She loved him. She. Loved. Him. He’d gotten his second chance.

Thank God.

He took her in his arms and held on tight. He never wanted to let go. “I love you, too, Ivy. Please stay with me. Be mine.”

She nodded and hugged him hard. “I’m yours. Always.”

The baby kicked, and they both laughed. Then he kissed her and knew he’d found his perfect partner, his best friend and the woman he was going to love until the end of his days.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from A FAMILY COME TRUE by Kris Fletcher.

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Superromance.

You want romance plus a bigger story! Harlequin Superromance stories are filled with powerful relationships that deliver a strong emotional punch and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Enjoy four Harlequin Superromance stories every month!

Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

Other ways to keep in touch:

Harlequin.com/newsletters

Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

HarlequinBlog.com

http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience

CHAPTER ONE

THE MAN HOVERING at the entry to Ian North’s garage was very tall, very blond, and very late.

“Hey, Ian. Long time no see.”

“Xander?” Ian tugged his work gloves from his hands and set them on the anvil where, moments earlier, he had been happily pounding the hell out of a piece of hot iron while singing along to some vintage Queen. With a glance to make sure everything in his home forge could be safely ignored for a few minutes, he ventured toward his old college roommate. “What are you doing back here?”

Xander pulled sunglasses from his face and hooked them casually over the neck of his silky black tee. “I came to get my dog.”

“Your dog? Are you nuts?” Thank God Lulu was having a late-afternoon visit to the park with his landlady and her daughter. “She’s not yours anymore, buddy.”

“Sure she is. I told you I’d be back for her.”

“You said you’d be back in a month or so.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “By my count, two years is a lot longer than a month or so.”

Something flashed through Xander’s eyes—something Ian would have sworn was determination if not for the fact that the only times Xander had ever shown real resolve were when sex, beer or his latest get-rich-quick scheme were involved.

“It hasn’t been that long. A year, year and a half, max. I’m here, just like I said I’d be.” Xander peered past him. “What are you doing back there anyway? Making horseshoes?”

Ian thought of the final touches he’d just finished on a detailed picture frame for his dad. Horseshoes. Right. “Not quite. Now, if the only reason you’re here is for my dog, you should leave. I’m busy.”

“That’s it? No ‘Hey, Xander. Good to see you!’ No ‘Jeez, I hope everything was okay.’ Not even a simple ‘Where’ve you been?’”

“I don’t need to ask.” With one finger Ian pushed his safety glasses above his forehead, squinting against the sudden vibrancy of mid-June. In winter, southwestern Ontario was a sea of white, but now the reds of the flowers, the green of the grass and the blue of the sky could be blinding. “I got all the info I needed when the police came looking for you a couple months after you left. Are you on the run or did you land in the pen?”

Xander’s face lost some color. Ian cursed.

“Seriously?”

“It was victimless, okay? A little cyber project that got sidetracked. No one got hurt.”

“Except the little old ladies you bilked out of their life savings.”

“Hey, I don’t do that stuff. I just help people find their way into companies. Nothing with actual individuals.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still– Ah, jeez. You knew you were going to jail, didn’t you? That’s why you left Lulu with me.”

Xander had the grace to look down as he scraped his foot against the cracked pavement of the driveway. “Look, when I left, I knew that the situation wouldn’t be good for a puppy. Then things got out of hand and– Anyway, that’s all in the past. I paid my debt to society. I’m a changed man and I want my dog.”

“Let’s review the facts, Xander. Two years ago—oh, pardon me, not that long but I don’t feel like doing the math—you asked if you could stay with me for a week. In a moment of foolishness I said yes.” Though to be honest, at that time Ian had been new in Stratford, running from a major life curve that had left him shell-shocked and heartsore. Xander’s request had been a welcome distraction. “When the week turned into a month, I didn’t say anything. When you brought Lulu home, I didn’t say anything. When you took off and left me with her and thirty bucks for food—okay, I said some things then, but you weren’t here so they don’t count. Now, though, you’re here, so listen up. She was a puppy when you left. You only had her two weeks. Not yours anymore.” He poked Xander in the chest. “Go back to your computer and do something useful, like making some multinationals pay taxes.”

But Xander didn’t move. “Look, I know I took advantage of you. But I had a lot of time to think while I was away, and I see what an idiot I’ve been. From now on it’s nothing but the straight and narrow for me. I have a job lined up—totally legit—and I’m starting over. Just me, the future and my dog.” Xander’s eyes darted around the garage, lingering on the steps leading to Ian’s second-floor apartment. “By the way, where is she?”

Ah, hell. Ian remembered that tone. Xander’s persistence lasted about as long as a boy band’s fame, but when he first dived into something he gave it his all. Which meant that right now there would be no changing his mind. Only time and the inevitable roadblocks could do that.

The good news was that if Ian could put the guy off for a day or two, Xander would see something shiny and move on. The bad news was that Lulu and company could return at any minute.

If he could just buy himself a little time...

“She’s not here.”

“Why not? Is she at the vet? Is she sick?”

“She’s fine. She’s healthy and strong and she can eat me under the table. She went on an outing with friends.” Vagueness was his ally. At least, he hoped so. “She’s happy here, Xander. If you want a fresh start, do it right. Get yourself a new dog.”

Xander shook his head. No surprise there. “Nope. One of the things they taught us when I was...away...was about seeing ourselves in our new lives. They had us figure out all the details. Every time I did it, Lulu was in the picture. I don’t want any old dog. I need her.”

Ian’s fear level rose from Damn, I don’t need this to Crap, this could get bad. Xander sounded serious. This might still be nothing more than a whim, but given that Xander was the one who’d bought Lulu in the first place, things could get complicated.

Ian hated complicated.

“Listen, Xander, I’m in the middle of a project and I need to get moving. You should do the same.”

Xander shook his head, crossed his arms and leaned against Ian’s prized Mustang. “I’ll wait.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You know,” Xander said with a sigh, “there was a time when you would have invited me in and we could have talked this out over a beer.”

“And there was a day when you wouldn’t have disappeared without so much as a Facebook post. Guess we’re even.” He returned to the anvil and made a show of examining the cross-peen hammer he’d been using. Yeah, it was juvenile, but hey, Xander wasn’t the only one who could trot out the tough act.

Too bad it didn’t work. Xander ambled into the garage, hands in his pockets, eyes darting from the forge to the anvil to the wall of hammers and files.

“You know, Ian, I’m thinking I got us off on the wrong foot here. How about we start over? I walk in and say, ‘Hey, buddy, long time no see.’ Then you say, ‘Xander! Talk about a sight for sore eyes!’ And I say, ‘Same here. How are your folks? How long have you been playing Little House on the Prairie? How’s work and your pretty little landlady and my dog?’”

Pretty little landlady? If Darcy heard Xander describe her that way, she’d be the one hefting hammers. “I have another idea. You see this?” Ian lifted a curved length of forged iron. “I think this would make a great hook. You know, for grabbing your sorry, law-breaking runaway ass and dragging it to the curb before I—”

His words were interrupted by the sound he’d been dreading most—the excited bark of a dog approaching home, followed immediately by Darcy’s resigned laughter. Lulu must have gotten away from her again.

Sure enough, a second later the driveway was a riot of movement and sound as a yipping, panting streak of beagle blend raced closer, dragging her leash behind her. And unless Ian missed his guess, Lulu was heading straight for him, with barely a curious glance in Xander’s direction.

Mine.

Ian raised his hand. Lulu came to a quivering halt at the entrance to the garage.

“Good girl. Stay.”

Xander crouched. “Lulu? It’s me, girl! Come here.”

Lulu whined and cocked her head but didn’t move. Nor did she seem remotely interested in her onetime owner.

Xander pursed his lips—planning to whistle, no doubt—but Ian shook his head. “Save your breath. I’ve taught her to wait there until I tell her it’s okay. Too many dangerous things in here.”

“Oh. Right. I never thought of that.”

Of course he hadn’t. Xander and responsibility were about as well acquainted as rap and polka.

“So, can I go to her?” Xander asked.

Huh. Ian couldn’t remember Xander ever waiting for anything, let alone requesting consent. His motto had always been that it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Maybe the time in jail really had taught him a thing or two.

“Hang on. We have a routine.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

The excited edge to Xander’s voice wasn’t doing much for Ian’s peace of mind, but he pushed himself through the steps. Check the anvil, check the forge, check the—

“Sorry, sorry.” Darcy’s laughing apology made him spin around to see her stumbling up the driveway, one hand pushing a stroller loaded with toys, the other curled around the baby bouncing on her hip. Lulu must have led her on a merry chase. The neck of Darcy’s blouse veered way over to the side, and her shoulder-length, cinnamon-brown hair curled in every direction. She was a flustered mess, but as always, seeing her made him grin. Even despite Xander’s presence.

“I thought I had a good grip on Lu,” she called as she approached. “But Cady decided Mommy was overdressed and yanked my blouse half off, and I had to either switch the leash or risk arrest for public indecency. But I messed up and she got away and I—”

She stopped just behind Lulu, the hand that had been pushing the stroller rising to shield her eyes as she peered into the shadowy garage. Her cheeks turned as pink as Cady’s ruffled sun hat, which had slipped backward, exposing the pale blond head it was supposed to protect.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”

“It’s okay.” He walked over to her, automatically taking Cady as she launched herself into his arms.

Xander pushed upright. “Hey, Darcy,” he called as he ambled into the light. “Long time no—”

He stopped abruptly. Darcy’s eyes flew open and she reached across Ian’s chest until her hand landed on Cady’s thigh. A small sound slipped free, one he couldn’t identify because he’d never heard it before, but his gut told him it wasn’t good, especially when she stepped closer to him. His arm went around her shoulders.

Lulu whimpered.

“Darce?” Xander’s voice was filled with confusion and uncertainty and something that sounded like shock. This was more than a simple greeting. What the hell?

Xander shuffled forward as if he’d forgotten how to walk. Darcy pressed closer to Ian. His arm tightened protectively.

As Xander emerged into the sunshine, the light glinted off his very blond hair. Hair that was a perfect match for that on the head now resting against Ian’s chest. The tiny head of the wriggling child who had just celebrated her first birthday.

Two years ago—oh, pardon me, not that long but I don’t feel like doing the math—