Christmas with Daddy
C.J. Carmichael
First comes baby, then comes Christmas…and then comes love?Detective Nick Gray loves his baby daughter. But he’s used to police work – not babysitting! So when he suddenly gains custody of the baby, Nick’s life is thrown into chaos. Luckily his neighbour, Bridget, is there to help.As they care for Mandy together, it turns out she and Nick have a lot in common. But is this fun-loving bachelor a candidate for happy ever after? In the season of miracles, anything can happen!
Nick Gray was the kind of guy smart mothers warned their daughters about.
After five years of living in the same neighbourhood, Bridget had seen Nick with so many different women, she’d given up asking their names.
Still, sometimes when Bridget looked at him, she felt a crazy, unfamiliar excitement. He made her aware of possibilities she would never normally consider. Possibilities that were neither safe nor sensible.
It took only a few seconds for her to shake off that feeling, though. Nick was drawn to glamour, sophistication and style. The women he dated turned heads on the sidewalk.
Just as well she wasn’t Nick’s type. She’d never been one for flirting and casual dating. Whereas even Nick’s relationship with the woman he’d married had lasted less than a year.
It was an appalling record, and she ought to think less of Nick for it. But she couldn’t help liking him, despite his rather obvious character flaws. Someone who loved his baby as much as he did couldn’t be all bad.
Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, CJ Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double-entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written more than twenty-five novels and strongly suggests you look elsewhere for financial planning advice.
Christmas with Daddy
C.J. Carmichael
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Deepest love to my mum, Kay Daum
Thanks To:
My writing friends
Brenda Collins, Donna Tunney and Sherile Reilly,
who sat around my dining-room table, talking and
brainstorming, as the Gray brothers came to life.
Pauline Edward
for sharing her expertise in numerology.
Constable Chris Terry
from the Calgary Police Department for once again
answering my questions about crime investigation. I’d
also like to thank his wife
(my hairstylist), Tracy, for introducing us
(and for many years of great haircuts)!
CHAPTER ONE
NICK GRAY’S BABY daughter, Mandy, was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Too bad he didn’t have a clue what to do with her.
She smiled adoringly at him from her seat in the stroller, showing off the two tiny teeth she’d sprouted this month. Flanking the stroller were a bulging suitcase and a pink diaper bag.
Pink.
Like he was going to carry that around.
His ex-wife stood behind all this, looking like a model in a sleek leather jacket and high-heeled boots. No one would guess Jessica had ever had a baby, let alone just six months ago.
“I can’t do this,” he said flatly. “You’ve never let me have Mandy overnight before. Now at the last minute, you expect me to take care of her full-time for three weeks?”
“I guess if the Hartford Police Department believes you’re smart enough to be a detective, you ought to be able to handle a baby. I’ve written out everything you need to know in here.”
She passed him a notebook, as well as another, thicker book. “Plus, I’m lending you my copy of What to Expect the First Year. Don’t lose it.”
“Jessica—”
“Look, I’m not wild about leaving her with you, either. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me.”
“Spending your Christmas vacation in Australia, compliments of an Aussie snowboarder you met on the slopes two weeks ago. Yeah, some lifetime chance.”
“Will is a great guy.”
“I’m sure. Aren’t they all?”
“You’re a fine one to talk. What’s the longest you’ve stuck with one girlfriend?”
“Let me see…nine months?”
Her face reddened and he knew he’d scored a point. “That doesn’t count. You only married me because I was pregnant. We both knew it was a mistake almost right away.”
“Wrong. You’re the one who decided it was a mistake.” When he’d said his vows, he’d intended to stick by them. Not that he and Jessica were such a perfect couple. But when you had kids, you stepped up to the plate.
It was what all the Gray men did. And while he couldn’t live up to his older brothers in many other ways, in this one area he’d tried to do what was right.
“Don’t give me that crap. You were relieved when I moved out. Even if you won’t admit it.” She pulled up the sleeve of her jacket so she could see the gold watch on her wrist. “We don’t have time to argue. Will’s picking me up for the airport in half an hour.”
“Okay, so let’s schedule our fight for when you get back. Is January fifth good for you?”
She ignored him, but he could tell she was struggling not to smile. Instead, she bent to whisper something to Mandy.
He heard snippets. “Mommy loves you…lots of presents…miss you, baby.”
When she straightened, there were tears in her eyes. Not that he’d ever doubted that Jessica loved their daughter. But what kind of mother left her six-month-old baby while she cavorted with her new ski buddy in Australia?
“You’re not listening to me. This really is a problem. I took today off, but I have to work tomorrow.”
“Don’t you have any vacation time coming?”
He grimaced. “Yeah, right.” She knew he’d used it all in the weeks after Mandy was born. Besides, he’d just been promoted, assigned a new partner and given a high-profile case. “What am I supposed to do with Mandy while I’m on duty?”
“What all the rest of us working parents do, Nick. Hire a sitter. Or ask your mom.”
He knew better than to mess with his mom’s bridge/Scrabble/shuffleboard plans. Gavin and Allison would be the perfect choice. They were already looking after eight-year-old Tory and their new son, Jack. What was one more baby?
But his middle brother and his new wife lived in Squam Lake, New Hampshire. Much too far for a daily commute to Hartford.
Nick’s head was still spinning with possibilities— or rather the lack of them—when Jessica put a hand on his arm. He looked at her white-tipped fingernails with mild curiosity. Once, her touch had set his libido on fire. Now he felt nothing.
“Mandy has had her breakfast and her diaper is clean. In about two hours it will be time for her nap. Good luck, Nick. I’ll check in with you after we land in Sydney.”
And then she left.
Seconds ticked by. A minute passed. Silence.
Mandy’s big eyes were fixed on him. She seemed expectant.
He turned his hands palms up. “Sorry kid. I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
SINCE HE’D MADE detective and stopped shift work, Nick had fallen into a routine of spending Sunday afternoons with Mandy. The routine went like this:
Pick up Mandy after her nap. Strap her into the infant car seat that Gavin and Allison had bought him for a baby gift, then drive to Matthew and Jane’s place.
Hand baby to either Mom, Jane or Matthew.
Grab a beer.
Watch TV, with intermittent interaction with baby.
At dinnertime, warm up the bottle and canned baby food that Jessica had packed in the diaper bag—yes, the ugly pink one.
Feed Mandy, then let his mom or Matt hold her while he ate his own dinner.
Get back in his car, drive to Jessica’s and leave Mandy with her.
That was it. With the support of his extended family, he could look after his daughter for half a day maximum. How was he supposed to cope with her full-time? He loved holding Mandy close while she slept and trying to make her smile when she was awake. But he couldn’t fill a day with that stuff. Not even when you factored in feedings, naps and changing diapers.
When she was older, they’d be able to go to the park, play board games and read books together. But Mandy was too little for any of that.
“You don’t watch TV, do you?”
Mandy pursed her lips, blowing bubbles with her saliva.
“I didn’t think so.”
With Mandy still gazing intently at him, he pulled out Jessica’s notebook. On the first page she’d listed emergency numbers: the doctor’s office, the poison center, and several others.
He flipped the page to Mandy’s Daily Schedule. His ex had itemized Mandy’s routine, but when he read closely he realized the list wasn’t very complete. For instance, at seven in the morning Mandy was supposed to be cleaned, dressed and fed.
Then there was nothing until her nap at ten.
That was two hours from now.
What was he supposed to do with a baby for two hours?
He looked at the What to Expect book, but it was too long. It would probably take him a couple hours to find the right chapter.
Nick smiled at his daughter. She smiled back. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to do anything with the baby. Maybe she just sat in her stroller and looked at him while he went about his normal business.
Normal business for a day off work was reading the paper and enjoying a pot of coffee. Pleased with this idea, Nick wheeled the stroller to the kitchen, then started a pot. He spread the paper over the table, like usual, and got out his favorite mug.
Mandy whimpered.
He turned to look at her. “What was that?” The noise hadn’t sounded like a cry. But it hadn’t sounded happy, either. He pushed her stroller closer so she could keep her eyes on him. She seemed to like that for some reason.
He turned to the City section, looking to see if there was anything about the case he’d been assigned yesterday. He scanned the front page, then the rest of the section, but there was no mention of a runaway teenager.
Good.
Mandy made another noise. A little louder and longer than the last one. Definitely not happy. He pushed the stroller even closer. It didn’t help. She screwed up her face and pushed out her bottom lip.
Clearly Mandy was not a fan of the coffee-and-newspaper routine.
Maybe he’d find something in her suitcase to distract her, but when he opened it, out tumbled clothes and more clothes. Nothing else.
He tried the diaper bag next. It was full of empty bottles, a tin of powder to make formula, jars of baby food and—rather unimaginatively—diapers. Again, there seemed to be enough of everything to last thirty days or more.
Finally he noticed the pocket on the back of the stroller. Great, here were some actual toys. He pulled them out, one by one, and passed them to Mandy. She just threw them on the floor—each one seemed to make her madder than the one before.
For Pete’s sake, why hadn’t Jessica bought the kid any toys that she liked?
“What’s the matter, Mandy? Do you want some Hot Wheels? Maybe a Transformer?” He was pretty sure she was too young for those, though.
God, what was he going to do? The neighbors would soon be calling to complain. Besides, it kind of made his chest ache to see her acting so distressed.
Finally inspiration struck. He’d take her for a walk. There were always tons of parents and nannies pushing strollers around the neighborhood, even in the winter.
He bundled Mandy in her snowsuit again and just that seemed to be enough to distract her from crying. She stared at him with her big blue eyes, through a sheen of tears. When she finally smiled, it was like she’d never been unhappy at all.
“You like going for walks, don’t you?” He dried her eyes with the corner of a flannel blanket, then grabbed his own coat and went out the door.
Fresh snow had fallen last night and as he pushed the stroller down the sidewalk he was glad that back when they’d still been together, he and Jessica had decided to invest in one of those all-weather jogging strollers, even though neither one of them jogged. The big wheels cut through the powder like nobody’s business.
He headed for the park.
Newly aware of babies, suddenly it seemed that he could see nothing but parents pushing babies in strollers or carrying them close to their chest in padded holders. Several of the mothers were rather pretty.
He caught the eye of a striking brunette walking toward him with her baby in a sling. She smiled and it occurred to him that she might be a single mother.
“Cute baby,” she said. “Is that your daughter?”
“Yup.” He could tell she wanted him to stop and talk. It would be so easy to do. He’d start by admiring her baby, then shift to a compliment about the mother’s smile.
He kept walking.
Yummy mummies were fun to look at, but they weren’t his style. Besides, since the breakup of his marriage, he’d been taking a little hiatus from women.
Nick ambled to the end of the street, then crossed to the park. To his right was a nicely maintained trail—the city even plowed off the snow in the winter.
He pushed the stroller, following the path along the river for a while until coming to a playground. A handful of kids were riding on the swings and scrambling over the monkey bars. Their mothers huddled on a park bench nearby, sipping from insulated coffee mugs and chatting.
Mandy sat forward in her seat, enchanted by the sight of the kids playing. She was too young to join them, of course, but he took her out of her stroller so she could have a better view.
She seemed fascinated.
But then she was equally intrigued by a handful of snow, an acorn, a dried-up brown leaf. Each treasure he presented to his young daughter seemed to fully occupy her senses until, finished exploring, she tossed the object to the ground.
Like the toys.
Now he understood. It wasn’t that Mandy didn’t like her toys. They bored her.
She was into new things. Learning about the world. And it was his job, as her parent, to make all the necessary introductions.
When he’d run out of things to show her, Nick put Mandy back into the stroller. He decided to take a fork in the path, going into an off-leash dog area in the woods. He pointed out a bird’s nest exposed in a winter-bare tree, a chattering squirrel, rabbit tracks in the snow. Though she couldn’t possibly understand, Mandy seemed to love it when he explained all this to her. She soaked in every new experience, waving her arms and babbling.
The off-leash route circled back to their starting point and as he was merging onto the main path, he heard dogs barking, then a sharp whistle. He turned and saw the neighborhood dog-sitter, Bridget Humphrey, emerging from a curve in the path, with her pack of four dogs. She bent to pluck something from the graying Airedale’s leg.
“Poor Stanley. Why do you always find the burrs? Stand still for a minute. There’s a good boy.”
As she dealt with Stanley’s coat, three other dogs—a boxer, a white terrier and a giant schnauzer—circled her. When she was finished with Stanley, she clipped him back on the lead, then called the boxer closer.
He watched, impressed as always with the quiet authority she held over the dogs. He’d met Bridget on moving day when she’d brought over cookies to welcome him to the neighborhood. “We’ll get along fine,” she said, “as long as you don’t mind dogs.”
He loved dogs. Always had. One day he was going to break down and buy one himself. Bridget had already promised to make room in her doggy day care when he did.
Sometimes, when he happened upon Bridget and the dogs at the park, he walked along with them for a while. He enjoyed throwing sticks for them in the off-leash area and tussling on the grass when the weather was fine.
Bridget was just reaching for the collar of the schnauzer—Nick’s favorite—when Herman spotted Nick. He gave one sharp bark of recognition, then set off running.
“Herman, stop!” Bridget called. Immediately the big gray dog jerked to a halt. He glanced over his shoulder at Bridget, then longingly toward Nick.
Nick had already positioned himself between the dogs and his daughter. He’d seen them with kids before, knew they were gentle and well trained, but he wasn’t taking chances.
Three seconds later, Bridget and the other dogs caught up to Herman. Bridget snapped the schnauzer onto the lead. “Sorry, Nick.” She sounded breathless. “I should have put them back on leash sooner.”
“No harm done.” He held out a hand so the dogs could sniff. As he gave each dog a bit of attention, Bridget went to say hello to Mandy. His daughter was squirming with excitement.
“Can I take Mandy out of the stroller for a minute?”
“Sure.” Herman nuzzled his hand, demanding more scratch time. As Nick complied, Bridget swung Mandy in the air, making her laugh.
“Oh, she’s a sweetie, Nick. She wants to pet the dogs. Should I let her?”
“Sure.”
Lefty, a sweet boxer who especially loved kids, approached and licked her little fingers. Mandy giggled.
“I think I’ve got a dog-lover on my hands,” Nick said.
“Just like her dad.” Bridget pushed her sunglasses up on her head and smiled at him.
He didn’t often get a look at Bridget’s eyes because she usually wore sunglasses. But when he did he was always startled that such a nondescript woman should have such gorgeous eyes. They were large and vibrantly green, like new leaves in the spring. Most intriguing of all, they slanted up at the edges, giving her ordinary face a mysterious allure.
“Not to be nosy,” she said, “but why aren’t you at work?”
“I booked the day off. My ex left for Australia today.”
“Really? That’s a big trip.”
“Yeah, and she’s going to be gone for three weeks.” Which reminded him of his number-one problem. “Do you know of any good day cares in our neighborhood?”
“Sunny’s Day Care is the best. But she has a six-month waiting list.”
“Cripes. Any other suggestions?”
“What about your mom?”
“She’s great with Mandy for an hour or two, but a whole day is out of the question. Have you heard about any other day cares?”
“Most of the good ones have waiting lists. Even I have a waiting list for new dogs.”
“Yeah? How about babies? I don’t suppose you could take on one of those?”
“You’re not serious?”
“I don’t know about serious. I am desperate, though.”
She bit her bottom lip. Was she actually considering saying yes?
“I’d pay you well. And it’s only for three weeks.” He hesitated, suddenly wondering if she could handle the job. Babies were a bit more complicated than dogs. “Have you looked after a baby before?”
“I worked at a day care one summer when I was in college,” she offered reluctantly.
So she was experienced. Even better. “I’ll pay you double the going rate.”
“Mandy’s a sweetheart, Nick, but these guys keep me pretty busy.” She gave the end of her leash a gentle tug. “Plus I have my business appointments, too.”
The dogs were really a sideline with Bridget. Her main occupation was as a numerology and astrology consultant. He had a hard time taking that stuff seriously, but he knew she did. Generally avoiding the subject seemed to work best.
“Mandy wouldn’t be that much trouble. Plus, she loves going on walks. You can take her with the dogs. She’ll fit right in.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t be trouble, but…”
“Besides, couldn’t you use some extra cash for Christmas? For gifts and things?”
“I don’t need extra money.”
“You’re not giving me much to bargain with.” If she was any other woman, he might try charming her with a smile, but he couldn’t see that approach working with Bridget. Every now and then he came across a woman who was impervious to his brand of sex appeal. From their first meeting his instincts had told him that Bridget was one of those women.
Still, he had to come up with something. He was due at the station tomorrow at eight in the morning. And he didn’t think his partner was expecting him to bring along his six-month-old daughter.
CHAPTER TWO
NICK GRAY WAS THE KIND of guy smart mothers warned their daughters about. After five years of living in the same neighborhood, Bridget had seen him with so many different women, she’d given up asking their names. In the historical novels she loved, he was the rake, the ne’er-do-well but handsome younger brother, the favorite son who always disappointed his father but was the apple of his mother’s eye.
Sometimes when Bridget looked at him, she felt a crazy, unfamiliar excitement. He made her aware of possibilities that she would never normally consider. Possibilities that were neither safe nor sensible.
It only took a few seconds for her to shake off that feeling, though. Nick was drawn to glamour, sophistication and style. The women he dated turned heads on the sidewalk. And not because they had four dogs in tow.
Just as well she wasn’t Nick’s type. She’d never been one for flirting and casual dating. Whereas even Nick’s relationship with the woman he’d married had lasted less than a year.
It was an appalling record, and she ought to think less of Nick for it. But she couldn’t help liking him, despite his rather obvious character flaws. Someone who loved dogs as much as he did, couldn’t be all bad.
He had a special affinity for her giant schnauzer Herman. Aptly named, Herman was solid, dependable, unstoppable when he wanted something. And when Nick was around, there was no doubt what Herman wanted.
She couldn’t blame him.
“I know I’m asking a lot,” Nick said. “It’s okay if you’d rather not do it.”
Now she felt guilty. Nick was a good neighbor and a friend, too. They collected each other’s mail when they went on vacations. Occasionally Nick helped her out with the dogs. Just last month when she’d been sick with the flu, he’d taken them all for a long run at the end of his shift.
But babies required a lot more time and effort than dogs.
Nick gave Herman one last scratch, then he stood and reached for Mandy. His baby daughter held out her arms to him, smiling as he drew her close.
They looked so cute together. Gosh, a guy who was good with dogs and babies. It just wasn’t fair. How was any woman supposed to resist that?
Then suddenly, for no apparent reason, Mandy started to cry. Nick’s face registered surprise as he glanced at Bridget, then back at the baby.
“Hey, what’s wrong, sweetie?”
Mandy’s cries grew louder. The dogs pulled in close to Bridget. The baby’s distress made them uneasy.
“Do you know what time it is?” Nick asked. “I forgot to put on my watch this morning.”
She shrugged. She hadn’t worn a watch, either. “Almost one o’clock,” she guessed. She and the dogs had left the house at eleven-thirty and the route through the woods usually took them about an hour and a half.
“One o’clock.” Nick seemed astounded. “I didn’t think we’d been out that long. Mandy missed her nap and her lunch.”
No wonder she was so upset. “Did you bring any food with you?”
“It didn’t occur to me. Maybe Jessica packed something in here…” Nick rummaged through the storage pouch on the back of the stroller but came up with nothing. Mandy was sobbing now, and for a guy who never seemed to lose his cool, Nick was looking pretty flustered.
“What should I do? I’ve got to get her home, but I can’t put her in the stroller when she’s crying like this.”
“I’ll push the stroller for you.” Bridget tied the dogs’ leads to the handle, then started along the path at a fast clip.
Nick fell in next to her. “Thanks a lot. I guess I should have been more prepared.” He cuddled Mandy closely. “Don’t worry, honey. Your dad’s an idiot, but he is going to feed you, eventually.”
As they made their way out of the park area onto the city streets, Bridget noticed they were attracting quite a bit of attention. A man and a woman with four dogs and a crying baby…yeah, she wasn’t too surprised people were gawking.
Nick seemed oblivious to the stares, though. He was almost panicking by the time they reached his town house. “Will you come inside?”
She didn’t have the heart to leave him to cope alone. “What about the dogs?”
“I have a fenced backyard. Will that do?”
“I’ll need to give them some water.”
“Not a problem.”
He dug into his pocket for the keys, and then, she was in a place she never thought she’d see the inside of—Nick Gray’s town house. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Maybe sleek furniture, an opulent TV and sound system…a round bed with satin sheets?
But his furnishings were plain and sparse. He had just one reclining chair in his living room, along with the television. In the kitchen down the hall, a newspaper was spread over a tiny oak table. Two folding chairs sat around it.
Nick must have noticed her scrutinizing the place because he apologized. “Jessica took a lot of stuff when she moved out. I haven’t been in the mood to replace it.”
He paused, frowning. “Is something burning? Hell. I forgot to turn off the coffee machine.” Still carrying Mandy, whose crying had turned into pitiful hiccups, he crossed the room and hit the off button on the coffeemaker. Then he grabbed a big bowl from a cupboard and handed it to her.
“For the dogs.” He pointed to the patio door. “You can let them out there.”
“Thanks.” She unlocked the door then released the dogs from their leashes. They rushed outside, anxious to explore. Once she had filled the bowl with water and placed it on the patio for them, she went to check on Nick.
He was kneeling on the kitchen floor, holding Mandy in one hand and pulling stuff out of a pink diaper bag with the other.
He cursed softly. “Couldn’t she have prepared one bottle at least?” He found a can of powder. “Jessica mixes some of this with water. I have no idea about the ratio.”
“Instructions should be on the can. How about I read them while you get Mandy out of her snowsuit. She must be very warm.”
A guilty look crossed his face. “Good thinking.” He unzipped Mandy’s snowsuit and for a couple of peaceful moments the baby actually stopped crying. But as he stripped off the cute yellow snowsuit, he made a face. “Oh-oh.”
Bridget glanced up from the fine print on the can. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s soaking wet. She needs a bath and a new diaper. God, I am such an imbecile.”
And then, as if to signal her agreement, Mandy started howling again.
ONE HOUR LATER Mandy had been bathed, changed, fed and lulled to sleep, in that order. Bridget did most of the work, with Nick watching, feeling like he was on the verge of having a heart attack.
Now, seeing Mandy’s peaceful face, her body curled under the flannel covers, he could finally take a deep, long breath.
“Thank you, Bridget.”
She was on the other side of the crib, looking at him with an odd smile. “You’re welcome.”
“You made it all seem easy.”
“It’s not so difficult. You just need to stay calm.”
Calm. That was funny. “I’ve given that same advice to rookie cops in dangerous situations on the street. I can keep my head when a robbery is going down. But babies are different.”
“You’ll catch on,” Bridget said gently.
“You think?”
“You’ve definitely got potential. As long as you don’t panic, you’ll be able to handle Mandy just fine.”
He wished he had the same faith in himself that she did. “I’ll still need a sitter for when I’m at work.”
Bridget broke eye contact. “I should get going.”
“Oh, no. You’re not leaving until you agree to take on the job. You’ve just proved you’re the perfect person to take care of Mandy.”
The prospect of extra money hadn’t tempted her. What would motivate someone like her? “Please, Bridget? We’ve been neighbors for years and Mandy already likes you. I’d hate to have to leave her with a stranger.”
“Not fair, Nick.” She shook her head at him. “But I will do it. If you’re willing to make a few compromises.”
Years of negotiating with two older brothers had made him cautious. “Yeah?”
“We do this the ecofriendly way. That means organic, homemade baby food, no disposable bottle liners, and definitely no more disposable diapers.”
“You want me to use cloth diapers?”
She nodded.
“God, Bridget.” Cloth diapers would be stinky. And they’d have to be washed. “Okay. But you better be worth it.”
OH, I AM, Bridget wanted to say. I am definitely worth it.
But she wouldn’t be talking about babysitting. She’d be flirting. And where that urge had come from, she wasn’t sure. The situation was far from romantic. They were talking about baby food and diapers for heaven’s sake.
The problem was Nick. If only he had the good grace to look like a respectable father. But no, even in a domesticated scene like this one, he still exuded sex appeal.
Even as she was thinking about that, he stood up and stretched out his arms, inadvertently flexing all sorts of lovely muscles for her to admire.
She shouldn’t be looking. What she should be doing was leaving. “I’d better round up my dogs and get home.”
“I’ll call them in.” As soon as Nick slid open the patio door, all four of the snowy canines barreled inside. Bridget apologized, but Nick didn’t seem too worried about the floor getting wet.
As she clipped the dogs onto their leashes, Nick’s phone rang. After his first few responses, she was amazed by the change that came over him.
Her charming, light-hearted neighbor was suddenly serious and focused. He listened intently, then said, “You bet. Twenty minutes.”
After he hung up, he tunneled his fingers through his thick dark hair, then looked at her with a speculative gleam in his eye.
Oh, boy. “What is it?” she asked cautiously.
“I’m working on this case right now. A runaway teenager. She’s only fourteen.”
“That’s young,” she said.
“By all accounts she’s a good kid, from a good family. We’d like to find her as quickly as possible, for a lot of reasons, not the least because the streets aren’t exactly a safe place for someone like her.”
She nodded, agreeing, and understanding his urgency.
“We had a possible sighting at the mall in West Hartford. My partner’s not available, so I’d like to check it out.”
“Now?” Why was she asking? Of course he had to go now. “I can stay for a while, but I have to be home by quarter to five. Foster’s owner usually picks him up around then.”
Nick’s taut features relaxed with relief. “Thank you, Bridget. You’re amazing.”
Amazing. Nick Gray thought she was amazing. Of course she knew he meant this in a platonic, thanks-for-helping-me-out-in-a-pinch way, but still it was nice to hear.
He went to his bedroom and came out wearing a holster strapped to his chest. She did her best not to stare at this visible reminder of the dangers of his job. Noticing his keys on the floor by the front door, she picked them up and passed them to him.
Bridget was struck again by the domesticity of the situation. This must be what it would be like to be married to a cop. Only, if they were married, Nick would be kissing her goodbye right now…
Right. Dream on, Bridget. You’re the babysitter, not the girlfriend.
“Thanks, Bridget. Here’s one of my new business cards. Call my cell if you need me.”
He’d told her last month about his promotion. She glanced at the card before slipping it into her pocket. “Thanks, Detective.”
He gave her a boyish grin, full of self-conscious pride. “Yeah, I’m a bigwig now. You remember that.”
“I’m impressed. But I still need to be home by four forty-five.”
He nodded.
“You won’t be late?”
“I won’t be late.”
NICK WAS late. But it was only by five minutes. She’d give him another five, Bridget decided, before she panicked.
Mandy had woken half an hour ago and Bridget had changed her diaper and given her something to drink. Now Mandy was sitting on the floor next to Lefty. The boxer had befriended the baby, not seeming to mind at all when Mandy pulled his ears or poked at his whiskers.
The other dogs were still sleeping, worn-out by the long walk and the romp in Nick’s backyard. Herman was on the floor by Nick’s recliner, while Stanley and Foster were settled on the rug by the front door. Clearly they weren’t going to be left behind when it came time to leave.
Earlier, she’d found an old towel and used it to dry the pads on the dogs’ feet, then the puddles on the kitchen floor. And she’d cleaned up the mess she and Nick had made in the kitchen preparing Mandy’s lunch.
Now with the baby happily distracted by Lefty, Bridget had nothing to do. There were bookshelves next to the television. Maybe she should find something to read. Framed photographs next to the books distracted her, though. She found one of Nick and two other men who had to be his brothers.
Nice-looking guys, all of them, with thick dark hair and likable grins. But to her, only Nick had that special something. A sparkle in his eyes, a certain slant to his grin. She’d bet he had been a handful as a little boy.
There were other photos, too. One of an older woman—probably Nick’s mom. She had the same light blue eyes…like the sky on a cold winter day.
Bridget caught her breath when she noticed a wedding photo of Nick and Jessica. Oh my Lord, his wife had made such a beautiful bride. What would it be like to be that gorgeous?
When she was younger, Bridget had often despaired of her own wiry red hair and plain features. But not anymore. Being pretty didn’t guarantee a woman love and happiness. Wasn’t Jessica the perfect example of that? She and Nick may have looked like a Hollywood couple on their wedding day, but they’d never even celebrated their first anniversary.
Bridget moved on to the next shelf, which had been dedicated to chronicling the first six months of Mandy’s life. She smiled at the image of Mandy as a newborn, in her father’s arms. Nick looked happy but nervous.
He still seemed a little nervous around his daughter. Maybe this three-week vacation of his ex-wife’s was a blessing in disguise. He needed time to get comfortable with his new role as father.
She would help him with that.
As soon as she had the thought, she realized she was overreaching. Nick’s competence as a father wasn’t any of her business. Looking after Mandy didn’t change the nature of their relationship. They were neighbors. Good neighbors who looked out for one another and offered a hand, when needed.
Nothing else.
Bridget paced the main floor, as anxious as Lefty during a thunderstorm. Nowhere did she see any preparations for Christmas. No tree, no wrapping paper, no decorations.
Guys without families probably didn’t bother with those things. But Nick had a family now. Surely he’d want his daughter’s first Christmas to be special. Maybe she should suggest…
Oh, Lord, she was doing it again. Getting too involved. How Nick decided to spend the holidays with his daughter was none of her business, either.
The dogs. They were her business. She glanced at her watch. Five more minutes had passed. Still no sign of Nick.
Okay, now it was time to panic.
CHAPTER THREE
BRIDGET WAS ROUTED to messages on Nick’s cell phone. “It’s almost five,” she said. “If you’re not home in two minutes I’m taking Mandy to my place.”
She picked up the baby and coaxed a smile from her. It wasn’t hard to do. Mandy really was a doll. Obviously Lefty thought so, too. The boxer looked up at Bridget mournfully, as if to say, why did you have to take her away?
Bridget bundled Mandy into her snowsuit again, then settled her into the stroller cautiously. To her relief Mandy was perfectly happy to go on another outing.
Still, Bridget was not impressed. If Nick thought he could flash his sexy grin at her and get away with stunts like this, he was sorely mistaken.
NICK HAD BEEN PROMOTED to detective four weeks ago, and he loved it. He loved being able to dress in plain clothes and drive an unmarked car. He loved working regular hours instead of shifts and having his weekends free the majority of the time.
He especially loved the challenge of working on cases and feeling he was actually making a difference.
When he reached the mall, he parked and took out the photo he had of the missing girl. Tara Lang smiled up at him, her large brown eyes full of defiance.
Clearly she hadn’t wanted to pose for this photo. Who had taken it, he wondered? One of her parents, perhaps?
Fourteen years from now, would Mandy look at him like this if he tried to take her picture? He sure hoped not.
A group of kids were hanging out around the benches by the mall entrance, probably waiting for rides from their parents. He studied them as he passed by, but none of them came close to matching Tara’s description.
Once inside he headed for the food court, where Tara had supposedly been spotted. He circled the area, passing Japanese eateries, burger spots, smoothie joints and taco stalls, stopping frequently to show the picture and ask if anyone had seen the girl.
No luck.
He hadn’t really expected it to be this easy, but he’d hoped. Solving this case would be a great way to begin his career as an investigator, since the Chief had made it clear that this case was the number-one priority of the entire department.
Nick went over every corridor of the mall, twice, before finally conceding defeat. As he headed for his parked car, his mind was full of thoughts about Tara Lang. He wondered where she was right now. Was she safe with friends?
Or out on her own?
Was she still defiant and angry at her parents? Or was she scared and sorry she’d run away?
Then there was the worst possibility of all. That she’d been the victim of a crime. Kidnapped, assaulted or even…
No. He wasn’t going there. Not yet. She hadn’t been missing more than twenty-four hours. Her father believed she was hiding out with one of her friends. Hopefully he was right.
As he slid into the driver’s seat, Nick’s focus settled on the time display. Cripes, was it five o’clock already?
Where had the time gone? He opened a window and slapped a siren on the roof of the car. God, Bridget was going to be totally pissed at him.
ONLY AFTER HE’D ARRIVED home and found the place deserted did Nick think to check his messages. As he listened to Bridget’s recording he noticed she’d also left her business card on his kitchen table. Pampered Pooches…loving care for your best friend.
He stared at the slogan for a moment. He knew, firsthand, that it wasn’t an idle claim. Bridget did give loving care to all of her dogs. She had a big, generous heart and he’d taken advantage of that today when he’d convinced her to help him with Mandy.
And now he was late. Not a good first impression.
Using a magnet, he stuck the card to his fridge, then jogged out to the street. Bridget lived just two doors down in an identical town house to all the others on this block. But she’d managed to make her place stand out thanks to her mailbox, which had been built and painted to look like a miniature doghouse.
A dusting of snow covered the sidewalk that led to her door and he could see the tracks of Mandy’s stroller, several sets of boot prints, and lots of doggy paws leading up and down the stairs. He added his footprints to the mix, hurrying to the door, then knocking.
As he waited he noticed two discreet brass placards screwed to the wall just under the outdoor lamp. Pampered Pooches and Bridget Humphrey, Numerologist.
He cringed at the second one, just as the door was whisked open.
“About time.” She sounded annoyed.
“I’m sorry. I should have called—”
Bridget nodded. “No kidding. Nick, if this arrangement is going to work, you need to respect my schedule and my time. I have commitments, too, you know.”
He apologized again. “I just couldn’t resist a second look around the mall.”
Bridget’s face softened. “You didn’t find her?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I hope she’s all right.” She stepped back from the door. “Come on in. Mandy’s just had her bottle and now she’s playing with my yarn basket.”
The house smelled…tantalizing. Like oatmeal cookies, he decided as he removed his boots and looked around. The rooms were laid out the same as his, but the similarity between the two homes ended there.
Bridget had put her stamp on this place, made it warm and inviting. The living room was alive with colors and textures, including a fluffy white rug. Mandy sat plum in the center of it, surrounded by dozens of balls of yarn, each one a different color.
He didn’t need to see Mandy’s smile to know that she was loving this. “She’s discovering the world.”
Bridget looked at him as if he’d said something clever. “That’s right. She is.”
As soon as she spotted him, Mandy held out her arms and smiled. In his mind, he imagined her one year older saying “Daddy! Daddy!” the way he remembered his nieces doing for his brother Gavin when he came home from work.
He swung her up, then hugged her. He was surprised by the feelings that swamped him, even though he’d last seen her only a few hours ago. It was almost as if he were choking on one of those balls of yarn. He swallowed, then turned to Bridget. “I’m really sorry I was late. I didn’t want to leave the mall until I was sure the runaway wasn’t there.”
Bridget didn’t seem angry anymore. “Tell me about this girl. You said she was a good kid from a nice family. Why did she run away?”
Mandy reached for the yarn and he set her back down amid the colored balls. “According to her father, there were some typical teenage rebellion issues. Unfair curfews, too many family functions, not enough time for friends. He said they had a big argument on Tuesday night. Wednesday morning, when she didn’t come down for breakfast, his wife checked her room and found her gone.”
“Did she go to a friend’s house? That’s what I would have done.”
Nick felt a flash of curiosity. Had Bridget suffered from rebellion issues in her youth? Surely not. She didn’t look the type. “That’s exactly what her parents assumed she’d done. But when they hadn’t heard anything by the next morning they became worried. Yesterday the mother questioned all of her daughter’s friends, but no one had seen her.”
“Could they be covering for their friend?”
“It’s certainly possible. In fact, I hope that’s what’s happened. It beats the alternatives.”
“An abduction…”
He nodded. “Her father is an important political official here in Hartford. So kidnapping is a possibility. Though we aren’t considering it likely since the girl’s warmest coat, her backpack, wallet, iPod and cell phone are all missing.”
“So she probably ran away.”
“It definitely looks that way. What happened after she hit the streets though…” He shrugged. “Hartford isn’t Detroit, but every city has its criminal elements. A girl on her own could get into trouble pretty quickly.” Especially a girl with no street smarts.
“Maybe she left Hartford?”
“We don’t think so. She’s too young to drive, and we’re keeping tabs on the bus station and airport. It’s possible she hitched a ride from a stranger, but again, that doesn’t seem likely.”
“Her poor family.” She tilted her head and eyed him speculatively. “I’d be happy to try and help you. All you’d need to do is tell me this girl’s full name and birth date.”
He didn’t understand the reason for her question at first. Then he scowled. “Are you talking about numerology?”
“Don’t sound so skeptical. Numbers are all around us, and they have power and meaning.”
“Get real. This kid’s name and birth date isn’t going to tell us where she is.”
“Did I say they would? What numerology will do is give us some insight into what’s in this girl’s head right now. Where her life is leading her.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for the offer. But I think I’ll conduct this investigation the traditional way.”
“Lots of intelligent, educated people believe in numerology, Nick. It’s not that strange. If you’d like a demonstration, I’d be happy to show you. Give me your birth date.”
He looked at her suspiciously.
“Let me calculate your life path number.”
“What the heck is a life path number?”
“It’s like a road map for your life, highlighting the opportunities and challenges that you’ll face in your journey through this world. The life path number is the cornerstone of numerology.”
Did she have any idea how wacko she sounded? “Look, I’m sure this is interesting to a lot of people. I just happen to put my faith in things that are more objective. Like the size of bullets, the patterns of fingerprints and the results of DNA testing.”
“Okay. Fine. Forget it. Clearly you haven’t evolved to this level yet.”
Evolved. Right. That was one way of putting it. Still, nutty as he thought this numerology stuff was, he didn’t want to insult her.
He inhaled deeply. “Look, I realize lots of people check their horoscopes every day. I’m just not one of them. And I don’t base my police work on the stars—or numbers, either.”
“Maybe so far you haven’t. But later, if it turns out you do need my help, don’t let pride stand in the way of asking for it.”
He almost laughed. Fat chance of that happening.
CHAPTER FOUR
BECAUSE BRIDGET’S DAYS were busy with the dogs, she saw most of her numerology clients during the evening. This worked well for her clients, too, who juggled their timetables around the demands of work and family life.
Bridget ate a tofu stir-fry for dinner, then went to her office and spent an hour charting. At ten minutes to eight, she put water on to boil. She had tea steeping in an antique pot and two cups at the ready in her office when the doorbell rang.
Annabel Lang was a beautiful woman in her late thirties. Today she wore a trendy sweat suit, the kind that only looked good if you were a size six or smaller.
“Hi, Annabel. Come in.”
Annabel managed only a brief, tense smile. She’d sounded upset on the phone and Bridget led her to the office, concerned that something serious must be wrong.
“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Would you like tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Annabel had been coming to Bridget for numerological readings ever since she’d heard Bridget speak at a workshop on goal-setting two years ago. Like many of her clients, Annabel was a planner. Someone who thought about her future and wanted as much information as she could get in order to make the best decisions for herself and her family.
She was also struggling with a marriage that was far from ideal. With the help of numerology she was trying to see the bigger patterns in her life as a way to guide her through these rough patches.
“Last night you said you wanted to talk about your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Bridget pulled out the cover sheet of the report she’d prepared. “Let’s start with Tara’s life path number. I see your daughter as having an overabundance of nine energy in her life. This would make her somewhat naive for her age, highly emotional and unrealistic.”
Annabel nodded vehemently. “So true. Can you tell me what might be on her mind right now?”
“I see her feeling isolated and not necessarily comfortable sharing her feelings.”
Annabel shielded her eyes for a moment, then sighed. “That’s an understatement. In the past year she’s become so withdrawn. It’s all I can do to get her to the dinner table for a meal. As soon as she’s finished eating, she scurries back to her room.”
“Yet what she longs for most right now is probably love.”
Tears shimmered in Annabel’s eyes. “I have plenty of that for her. But she doesn’t let me in.”
“It’s partly her age, but partly who she is. Tara’s looking for love, Annabel, but I don’t think it’s from her parents. I don’t even think it’s from her peers.”
As Bridget read through the rest of her analysis, Annabel seemed to become increasingly restless. Finally Bridget had to stop. “Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s just that I’m so worried about my daughter right now. And what you’re saying…I’m afraid it isn’t very reassuring.”
“Is there something specific you’d like to talk about?”
“Yes. But I can’t. I promised my husband.” She stopped to gather her composure. “Bridget, are you free later this week? I may need to talk to you again.”
“Of course.” Much as she wanted to help right now, Bridget didn’t press for more information. This was Annabel’s life, Annabel’s child. When the time was right, Annabel would let her know what was going on. Perhaps Tara was involved with a boy her parents considered inappropriate. Given her profile, maybe someone older. Certainly the signs pointed in that direction.
ACCORDING TO Jessica’s schedule, Mandy went to bed at eight o’clock. Tonight, however, Mandy seemed to have other ideas.
Nick had followed Jessica’s instructions to the letter, feeding Mandy dinner, giving her a bath, putting on her sleepers, then finally offering a bedtime bottle before laying her into the crib in the spare room.
Mandy had slept in that crib before she and Jessica had moved out.
But tonight, every time he tried to settle her there, she started to cry. Was she missing her mother and her familiar bedroom? Nick had no idea. As ten o’clock approached and Mandy’s blue eyes remained wide open and alert, he started to feel desperate.
Whenever he picked her up, she’d start to relax. Her breathing would slow and her eyes would droop. But put her down in the crib? No way.
“Daddy can’t hold you all night long, honey. Daddy needs to go to work tomorrow.”
Mandy just stared at him.
Nick paced for another half hour. Finally, when he was certain Mandy was sound asleep, he eased her into her bed. Yes! She was still sleeping. He covered her with the flannel blankets, then tiptoed for the door…
Before he’d made it to the hall, Mandy was crying again. He pressed his head to the door frame and froze in place. Maybe if he gave her a few minutes…
But she only cried harder and, after five minutes, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Okay, baby, it’s okay.” He rescued her from the crib and held her to his chest. Immediately she calmed.
It was almost eleven now and he was more tired than usual for some reason. He needed to hit the sack. Maybe one of his brothers could help. They’d both been through this before.
Nick grabbed the phone and hit Gavin’s speed dial number. His brother sounded as if he’d been sleeping.
“Sorry to call so late, but I’m desperate.” He explained the situation. “Do you think she’s sick or something?”
“If she’s eating okay and it doesn’t feel like she’s running a fever, probably not.” Gavin yawned audibly, then added, “Most babies like routine. It’s probably going to take Mandy a while to get used to sleeping at your place again. If I was you, I’d expect a few restless nights.”
“That’s it? That’s the best you can offer me?”
“Just make her feel safe, bro. Comfort her. Hold her close and sing to her.”
“I’ve been doing that, man.” And it wasn’t working. He’d thought his brother would be more helpful than that.
Around midnight, Mandy started fussing, even when he was holding her, even when he tried singing one of the songs on her lullaby CD.
Nothing he said, or did, seemed to soothe her. He tried warming another bottle. She wanted nothing to do with it. Her fussing turned into sobbing.
Finally, when it was almost one in the morning, Nick decided to try the one thing that hadn’t let him down so far. He bundled his daughter into her snowsuit, strapped her into the stroller, swaddled a bunch of blankets around her, then wheeled her outside.
Mandy instantly grew quiet.
The winter night was magical. Snow fell softly, the crystals glittering like suspended diamonds under the streetlamps. His boots and the tires of the stroller crunched as he moved forward. Street traffic was minimal and in the silence he could hear the steady inhale, exhale of his breath.
Nick pushed the stroller up and down the block. Thankfully he didn’t see anyone he knew. They’d think he was nuts.
He thought he was nuts.
Yawning again, he retraced his route, waiting for Mandy to fall asleep. It didn’t take long to happen. The next time he checked, her cherry lips were parted ever so slightly and her eyes were closed.
He went up and down the block two more times to be certain, then rolled the stroller back inside his town house. Quietly he removed his jacket and boots, then looked down at his sleeping daughter.
She looked so peaceful. He felt a bone-deep sense of satisfaction until he realized he had a problem.
How the hell was he supposed to move her from the stroller to her crib? He just knew that as soon as he tried, she’d wake up and start crying again.
After a moment’s consideration, he wheeled the stroller into his bedroom. Staring down at her, he wondered if she was going to get too warm with all those blankets, plus the snowsuit. He removed a few blankets, unzipped her snowsuit and removed her mittens.
What else should he do?
Frankly, he had no idea.
He collapsed on his bed and fell asleep himself.
USUALLY NICK AWOKE to the six-o’clock news on the local radio station. Not this morning though.
An obnoxious sound had him cramming his pillow around his head and over his ears. Why the hell didn’t those people do something about their kid?
And then it hit him.
The crying was from his kid.
His eyes opened and he jerked upright. Blankets were rustling in the stroller. Once he’d flipped on the bedside lamp, he could see Mandy’s face, red and angry. She flailed her little fists at the sight of him, as if to say, Don’t just stand there. Do something, Daddy!
He picked her up and she was quiet. With her bundled next to his chest, he went to the living room where he’d left Jessica’s notebook. For about the tenth time that night, he checked her instructions.
Eight o’clock, put Mandy to bed. She should sleep through until six or seven the next morning. He checked the time—it was only three!
Why hadn’t Jessica written any instructions about what to do if Mandy woke up this early?
Should he feed her breakfast? Offer her another bottle? Try to lull her back to sleep?
He was sorely tempted to call Bridget and ask what she thought. Though she had no children of her own, she seemed to instinctively know how to deal with babies. But to call her at three in the morning…he might be pushing his luck just a little if he did that.
He lifted Mandy until her face was right next to his. “It’s early, sweetheart. You’re supposed to be sleeping right now.” They were both supposed to be sleeping right now.
He put on the lullaby CD, but again, it was useless. Mandy seemed fine as long as he was holding her. A few times her eyes drooped shut…but as soon as he tried to lay her in the crib she started crying.
After forty-five minutes, he finally gave in to the inevitable and strapped her back into the stroller.
Outside, another inch of snow had fallen. He felt the thick flakes brush against his face as he headed to the far end of the block, then back. He did this four times. A man exited a town house on the opposite side of the street. He gave Nick a long look but said nothing, then continued to his car.
Remembering his own years of shift work, Nick felt a moment’s sympathy for the guy. Then he shook his head. Was he crazy? He was the one who deserved the sympathy tonight.
It was past four when Nick’s head finally hit his pillow for the second time that night. He could have sworn only five minutes had passed when suddenly his favorite news lady was talking about political developments in the Middle East.
Forget that. He pounded on the snooze button to shut her up. But he was too late.
Mandy started to cry.
AT HER FIRST SIGHT of him the next morning, Bridget could tell Nick had had an uneasy night with Mandy. He looked terrible. Eyes red, face badly shaven, his hair as rumpled as the shirt beneath his unzipped jacket. She opened the door wide to make room for the stroller. Nick was also carrying the pink diaper bag and another black vinyl bag.
“It’s a portable crib,” he explained, as she took it out of his hands with raised eyebrows. “So Mandy has a place to take her naps. Assuming she’ll sleep for you, that is.”
He slipped out of his boots and pushed the stroller into the living room. Glancing around, he asked, “Where are the dogs?”
“Out back, romping in the new snow.” She deposited the bag with the crib near the doorway to the spare room. “How did things go last night?”
“Terrible.”
“What happened?”
“Mandy didn’t go to sleep until one in the morning. Then she was awake from three to four.” He picked up his daughter, then extricated her from the snowsuit with the expertise of one who had done the same task many, many times before.
Mandy smiled winningly, then held out her arms to Bridget. “Hey, sweetie.” Bridget scooped her up. She smelled clean and looked happy.
“I just changed her diaper,” Nick confirmed. “And she’s had her breakfast…unlike me.”
The last two words were spoken so quietly Bridget didn’t think she’d been meant to hear them. “I baked muffins this morning. Would you like a couple?”
His face brightened. “That’s what smells so good in here.”
Hoisting Mandy to a hip, she headed for the kitchen.
Nick followed. “How do single parents cope? I doubt I had five hours of sleep last night. And this morning I had to rush through my shower and didn’t even have time to shave properly.” He rubbed the side of his face and shook his head.
Bridget watched him, fighting an urge to touch the other side of his face with her free hand. He did look rough this morning, she had to agree.
But on Nick Gray, rough wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.
She put two muffins into a plastic bag, then added an apple. “You can eat on the way to work. And don’t worry about Mandy. I’ll take good care of her.”
“I know you will. Thanks, Bridge.”
Bridge? Normally she hated it when people shortened her name that way. But coming from Nick, it sounded good. Friendly…almost intimate.
“You okay?” Nick’s voice held a touch of concern. “You got a strange look on your face for a second there.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Now you better hurry and get to work.” And get out of my sight so I stop fantasizing about you.
“Okay.”
She thought he was leaving, but instead he moved closer. So close that Bridget’s heart stopped. Good Lord, it was almost as if he intended to—
“Bye-bye, Mandy.” He lowered his head, his hair brushing against Bridget’s nose as he planted a kiss on his daughter’s cheek.
Bridget inhaled the scent of his shampoo. Kiss me, too, she couldn’t help wishing, even as she had the good sense to step back.
“I’ll see you around five,” Nick promised on his way out the door.
Bridget moved to the kitchen window and watched as he headed toward his car. She was willing to bet he was a good athlete. He was so sure-footed and confident in the way he moved. A man who knew where he was going and what he wanted.
What would it be like to be the sort of woman that Nick Gray was attracted to?
Over the years she’d often wondered that, experiencing a touch of envy for the girlfriends she’d seen dangling from his arm. A harmless crush was what she’d called these yearnings for her appealing neighbor. She’d never imagined that one day she might be tempted to act on her feelings.
Nick’s car started. He drove away. She stepped back from the kitchen window and, closing her eyes, remembered how it had felt to have his face so very near to hers.
NICK HAD NEVER been so happy to be at work. Boring paperwork seemed like a breeze compared to changing diapers. And he’d rather put up with a lecture from the captain about results, results, results, than deal with a crying baby in the middle of the night.
The priority today, of course, was making progress on the Tara Lang case. There’d been no new developments overnight, which was probably a good thing. It meant that with any luck Tara remained alive and well.
Though he figured the teen was still in Hartford, Nick checked the crime reports from nearby centers just to be sure. He tensed when he read about a murder-rape, in Springfield, of a young woman about Tara’s age, then felt a guilty wash of relief when he saw the victim had been already been identified as someone else. It seemed Tara had managed to survive another night out on the streets.
If, indeed, that was where she was.
“Hey, Gray, what’s up?” Glenn Ferguson, his partner, sank into the chair next to Nick’s. He was back in the city after tidying up loose ends on another assignment. “Any leads on the kid?”
“Just that tip yesterday.”
“Right. The mall. You checked it out?”
“Yeah. Nothing. I didn’t get even one positive ID.”
“Too bad.” Glenn leaned in for a look at the reports strewn over Nick’s deck. Getting a whiff of Glenn’s usual body odor, mixed with a good measure of stale alcohol and cigar smoke, Nick decided it was time to grab a refill of coffee.
Though he and Glenn had been partners for just a few weeks, Nick had already figured out that Glenn’s idea of a good time involved an expensive smoke, one-too-many drinks at his favorite pub, and talking some woman into sharing his bed for the night.
Not that different from Nick’s idea of a good time, perhaps, if you substituted a medium-rare steak for the cigar, but Nick was only thirty-four, while Glenn was pushing fifty.
Nick did not want to be in Glenn’s shoes when he was fifty. But his failed marriage with Jessica wasn’t a step in the right direction. They’d lasted less than a year as a married couple. It was a damn embarrassment. Worse was the potential impact on Mandy. His daughter would never have the security of living with a mother and a father under the same roof. How would that affect her?
As Nick reached for the full coffeepot, his thoughts shifted to Bridget. This morning her hair had been still damp from the shower and he’d been surprised at the way the baby-doll ringlets had framed her face.
He thought about how her house smelled and looked, so warm and inviting. Then about her eyes, that verdant green. Thinking about her gave him the same feeling as breathing in a lungful of cool, crisp air. More alive, yet somehow more relaxed, as well.
Nick filled a second cup, then returned to his desk. He handed a coffee to his partner, who gave him a grunt in return. Glenn shifted aside the report he’d been reading, exposing a family photograph taken for the Langs’ Christmas cards.
The pose was casual. Vincent Lang was wearing a shirt and sweater, probably cashmere. His wife, wearing a silky blouse and pearls, stood behind him, one arm looped around his neck, her chin resting on his full head of silver hair. Just off to one side Tara posed stiffly. Her mother’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder, but that was the only thing linking her to the attorney general and his wife.
“The kid doesn’t look too happy,” Glenn said. “I’m betting she didn’t like having her photograph exploited for the sake of her father’s political career.”
Nick laughed. Glenn was on the money with that observation, no doubt about it. He studied the picture closer. “What about the wife? Do you think she minded?”
She had the expensively coiffed appearance of a woman who was used to the rich life. But did her eyes betray a little of the daughter’s resentment? Or was he imagining that?
“Hard to say. Has anyone spoken with her?”
“I interviewed her late Wednesday afternoon.” Nick pulled out his notebook. He’d gone to the Langs’ house, an impressive Tudor home in the Hartford Golf Club neighborhood.
“Mrs. Lang was polite and cooperative, but also quite reserved. I asked her about Tuesday night and the alleged argument between Tara and her father.”
“What did she say?”
Nick read from his notes: “Tara has always hated the obligations that come with her father’s position. Those obligations are especially numerous at Christmas time. There are parties and other functions that Vincent simply must attend and many of them require his family’s attendance, too.”
Glenn snorted. “I’ll just bet. So what did you say next?”
“I told her that I supposed most teenagers would resent having to attend a bunch of stuffy parties.”
“I bet she didn’t like that.”
“You’re right. Mrs. Lang looked offended then said, ‘We’re invited into some of the most beautiful homes in Hartford. Last night we had tickets to the gala performance of the Nutcracker Ballet.’”
“Big, frigging deal.”
Nick nodded. Not too many fourteen-year-olds liked going to the ballet. But neither did they run away from home to escape the obligation. There was more going on in this kid’s head than that.
And perhaps, in the mother’s, too.
CHAPTER FIVE
LOOKING AFTER A six-month-old baby was hard work. A lot harder than looking after a dog. Scooping poop from a snowbank wasn’t pleasant, but it beat changing diapers. And filling dog bowls wasn’t nearly as fussy as spooning warm cereal into an easily distracted baby’s mouth.
“Good thing you’re so cute,” Bridget said to Mandy as she tried again to get her to eat some of the cereal. But Mandy had uncanny timing, managing to push out her tongue at the exact moment Bridget brought the little spoon to her mouth.
Bridget laughed. “Maybe you’re just not that hungry. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” She reached for the damp facecloth and cleaned Mandy’s face. Mandy giggled, obviously finding this game very funny.
By the time she got Mandy down for her afternoon nap, Bridget realized she was going to earn every penny of the generous hourly rate that Nick was paying her.
She gazed at the sleeping baby, unable to resist touching the downy softness of her cheek. You are so much work. But so worth it.
She checked the monitor to make sure it was on, before going into the backyard to play with the dogs for a while. When they were tired, she went on the Internet to research diapers and baby-food recipes.
Baby food. A week ago she never would have guessed she’d be pureeing vegetables and wiping up baby spit. Mandy was adorable, but Bridget had to admit the real reason she’d agreed to the job was the girl’s father.
She didn’t know what it was about Nick that appealed to her. In real life, she didn’t usually go for the playboy type. She liked dependable guys, with solid values and level heads. She’d had two serious relationships in her life. Two men she’d come very close to marrying.
They’d been wonderful men. Nothing like Nick. And yet…ever since he’d moved into the neighborhood she’d been fascinated by him.
She liked to think she saw hidden depths in the man. But maybe she was just kidding herself. Maybe, just maybe, she was as guilty of enjoying a charming, sexy man as the next woman.
Could it be? Was she, Bridget Humphrey, human?
Once Mandy woke up, Bridget went back into full-speed activity. First was Mandy’s bottle, then another walk, which entailed bundling Mandy into the stroller and getting all four dogs on their leads and out the door.
It was later than usual when Bridget returned and soon the owners were coming to pick up their dogs. Foster left first. His owner, Diane House, was a teacher who dropped him off and picked him up on her walk to and from school.
As usual, Foster was waiting by the window and as soon as he spotted Diane, he ran to the front door and began running through his repertoire of tricks: sitting, holding out a paw, lying down, rolling over, then standing on his hind legs to dance.
Bridget opened the door, and Diane stuck her head inside, laughing at Foster’s performance. “Good boy, Foster!”
She gave the little terrier his customary treat, then clipped him onto her leash. “Did you guys have a good day?”
“Sure did.” Bridget explained about Mandy and how the dogs all seemed to enjoy having a baby around.
Before turning to leave, Diane sighed. “Just one more week, then school’s out for the Christmas break. You remember Foster won’t be back until January?”
Bridget nodded. All of her dogs would be staying home for several weeks over Christmas. It was good for them to have extra bonding time with their families. And it was good for her, too, giving her a chance to have a real holiday, as well.
Next to leave were Stanley and Herman. The wealthy couple who owned them had their nanny pick them up at the end of the day and she always arrived promptly at five.
Usually Lefty hated being the last to go home. The boxer would sit by the front door, desolate, waiting for his owner, Elizabeth, an executive who had no family and often worked late hours.
Today, though, he was distracted by Mandy and her endless fascination with his ears. Lefty gazed at her adoringly, letting her pull and stroke and pat to her heart’s content. While they played, Bridget opened her mail. She loved this time of year, when she could look forward to receiving cards from friends and family rather than just the usual flyers and bills.
She was propping up that day’s cards for display when the doorbell rang. Lefty snapped his head up and trotted to the front door. Elizabeth opened the unlocked door. “I’ve got him, Bridget. Thanks.”
It took a moment for Mandy to register the fact that she’d been abandoned. She frowned, then stuck out her bottom lip. Bridget scooped her up before she could cry.
“You really do love those dogs, don’t you, sweetie? How about I sing you some nursery rhymes?” Bridget soon found that Mandy responded best to old favorites—especially “Teensy, Weensy Spider.”
As the time neared five-thirty, Bridget’s thoughts turned to Nick. He should be here soon. She didn’t like the way her pulse sped up just at the thought of seeing him again. This time when the doorbell rang, she checked her hair in the mirror. Earlier she’d combed it into a neat ponytail, but during her walk, the wind had wreaked havoc out of the wiry strands.
Ah well.
She opened the door with one hand, holding Mandy in the other. At first glance Nick seemed tired and discouraged, but as soon as he saw his daughter, his face relaxed into a genuine smile.
“How’s my girl?” He held out his arms and Mandy went to him happily. “Was she cranky after getting so little sleep last night?”
Sexy guys looked even sexier holding a baby. Who would have guessed? “She was a doll, Nick. Come on in. She’s ready to go. Just needs her snowsuit.”
“Thanks, Bridget. I’ve got to tell you, it’s a big relief for me, knowing that she’s safe with you. Really lets me focus on the job.”
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” she said lightly.
“After last night, I have no doubt you earn every cent. And more besides. I’ll owe you big after this, Bridge. Anytime you need someone to walk your dogs, you’ll know who to call.”
She smiled, knowing his wasn’t an empty offer. She led him through to the living room where Mandy’s snowsuit was sitting on the stroller.
Bridget perched on a chair and watched as Nick expertly zipped up his daughter, then swirled her in the air, making her giggle with crazy abandon.
He was such a great guy. He really was. So why did he have so much trouble committing to relationships with women? She was dying to do his numbers and find out.
“Won’t you please tell me your birth date?”
He made a face. “I thought we agreed to disagree on that numerology stuff.”
“But aren’t you even curious?” She certainly was. “You might be surprised at what your life path number has to tell you.”
“I don’t think so.” He strapped his daughter into the stroller. Mandy clapped her hands together.
“By the way, I placed an order with Little Stork Diaper service today.”
“Jessica left me with enough diapers for at least a month.”
“She left you disposable diapers, Nick. Have you forgotten our deal?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “No. But I was hoping you would.”
“Using cloth rather than disposable reduces the waste in our landfills by about two tons per child.”
“That’s got to be an exaggeration.”
She raised her eyebrows.
He sighed with apparent resignation. “Will I have to wash them?”
“No. Once a week, the diaper service picks up the soiled diapers and leaves us with more clean ones.”
“We have to keep the dirty diapers for a week?” Nick looked disgusted by the prospect.
“In a special solution in a covered container. Don’t worry. It shouldn’t smell.” She hoped.
“God, Bridget, I don’t know. What if I promise to recycle absolutely everything I use for the rest of my life…after Mandy’s out of diapers.”
He gave her a smile so charming she almost caved. How could any woman say no to this man? But in all good conscience, she could not use disposable diapers when there were other more ecologically kind alternatives.
She was about to give him a lecture, when he backed down on his own.
“We had a deal. Yeah, I remember. I’ll use the cloth diapers, Bridge. Is there anything else?”
“Organic, homemade, baby food,” she reminded him brightly. “I made a batch of rice sweet potato and another of barley carrot this afternoon after our walk. I froze them in ice-cube containers. You can feed Mandy one for dinner tonight.”
“Rice sweet potato, huh?”
“She’ll love it. Just thaw it in the microwave, then serve.” She removed the plastic bag from her freezer and stowed it in the diaper bag.
“Sounds simple enough, even for me.” He had started to wheel the stroller down the hall when he suddenly noticed her display of Christmas cards.
“What the hell.” He picked up one of the cards, frowned, then glanced at her. “Where did you get this?”
She took the card from his hand, slightly annoyed by his tone. “In the mail. Why?”
“You know Attorney General Lang?”
“His wife is a client of mine.”
Nick let out a low whistle. “Interesting.”
“Why is this such a big deal? Do you know the Lang family?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He removed a photograph from his shirt pocket and showed it to her.
Annabel’s daughter stared up at her.
Why did Nick have a picture of Tara? Before she could ask the question, she knew the answer. “Tara is the runaway you’re looking for.”
CHAPTER SIX
“THAT’S RIGHT,” Nick said, his expression serious.
“Annabel didn’t tell me.” Bridget had guessed something was wrong, but she hadn’t realized it was this serious. Oh, God. Poor Annabel.
“You’ve talked to Annabel recently?” Nick asked.
“She was here last night, wanting me to do an analysis for her daughter. She admitted that she was worried about Tara. But she didn’t tell me she’d run away from home.”
Bridget studied the photograph again. This closeup provided a much clearer portrayal of Tara than the family picture on the Christmas card. Tara was at that awkward adolescent stage, not yet pretty, but with potential. While the picture wasn’t flattering, it had captured a lot of emotion.
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