Belonging (8 page)

"Chief Richardson. What brings you here?" She
strived for a formal note, for some reason needing to place that
barrier, no matter how small or inconsequential, between them.
Exactly why she felt that way she wasn't certain.

"The name is Matt, Angie. I thought we
settled that last night." For all of his soft-spoken charm, there
was a touch of insistence in his voice. "And speaking of last
night—" he held up a pair of silver-heeled shoes and smiled
"—Prince Charming to the rescue."

Angie felt a rush of betraying color warm her
cheeks. Silently she took the shoes from him and turned away,
hoping he didn't see it. The less said about last night,

on all counts, the better. She didn't realize
he had followed her inside the house until the door closed gently
behind him.

"Coach?" Matt was referring to the white
lettering emblazoned on the back of her royal-blue jersey. A half
smile lifted his mouth as his inquisitive eyes flitted to her face.
"You coach a baseball team?"

Hearing voices in the hallway, Kim and Casey
came in to investigate. Angie placed an arm around both youngsters
and drew them to her side. "These are my daughters, Kim and Casey,"
she told him coolly. "It's Kim's team that I help coach."

Daughters. Matt hadn't expected one, and
certainly not two. Angie Hall was full of contradictions, he
reminded himself dryly. Mayor of Westridge. Baseball coach. Mother
of two. And what had happened to her husband? Had she, like Linda,
eventually concluded that her husband wasn't good enough for
her?

His mouth turned down for just an instant
before he noticed the youngest child had turned bright eyes up to
his. "Who're you?" she asked with more frankness than politeness.
Unlike Kim, Casey wasn't the least bit cautious with strangers,
even men.

"I'm Matt." He dropped down to one knee so
that he was on the same level as the little girl. Even then she had
to tilt her head to look at him. "Are you Kim?" he asked.

Blond pigtails shook furiously. "I'm Casey.
That's Kim!" A chubby finger pointed at her sister, still standing
at her mother's side.

"Ah. The baseball player." Matt turned his
head to smile at Kim, who stared back at him warily and nudged
closer to Angie's bare legs. Like mother, like daughter, he
couldn't help thinking.

"Are you one of Mommy's boyfriends? Like
Todd?" Casey blurted.

Boyfriends? Matt immediately recalled his
observation that cool, aloof Angie didn't like to be touched. Some
detective, he thought wryly. And who the hell was Todd?

"Todd isn't Mommy's boyfriend!" Kim stepped
forward and faced her sister. Her small chin jutted forward, and
her fists were balled at her sides.

Casey suddenly looked equally fierce. "Then
why does she go to parties with him?"

"She didn't go with him last night, and when
she does, it's only because he works with her! Todd is just... just
a friend!"

And that was that, Matt decided wryly. So
Todd was another devoted fan of Mayor Angie Hall. Somehow it would
have been slightly more reassuring, and convincing, if it had come
from Angie. But it was understandable, really. In the short time
he'd known her, and especially the past twenty-four hours, he'd
thought of her as a woman—a very desirable woman—far more than he'd
thought of her as his boss.

His attention returned to the two
angelic-looking cherubs still determined to butt heads. He found
their mother had grasped each of them by a shoulder and stood
between them.

"That's enough, both of you!" she said
sharply. "And as I've told you before, Todd is just a friend." She
addressed herself to both children.

Casey tipped her head to the side. "What
about Matt?" she insisted once more. "Is he your friend?"

"Yes." Angie's tone was short. "Now why don't
you two check to see that Spooky has food and water?" She

watched as Casey ran from the room. Kim
followed more slowly behind her.

Matt whistled softly when she turned to him
again. "It's nice to see I've moved up in the world," he ventured
teasingly. "Do I dare ask who Spooky is? Not, I presume, a
friend?"

The flicker of amusement in his eyes, his
easy manner with the girls...Angie couldn't help it. She felt her
defenses slip a notch. The way he'd dropped to talk to Casey on her
own level especially impressed her.

Her smile lit up her entire face, making her
look open and unreserved. Matt found himself even more drawn to
this Angie than the other he'd glimpsed all week long.

"Spooky is our cat," she explained. Then she
seemed to hesitate. "Look, I apologize for the girls."

"Don't bother." He shrugged. "Kids will be
kids. Besides, I think it bothered you a lot more than it did
me."

Her laugh was a little nervous. Matt might
have found it amusing, but she was still rather embarrassed.

Matt was too busy taking in his surroundings
to really notice, though. He'd been a little disconcerted when he'd
parked his car in front of the rambling Victorian house, so much
so that he'd double-checked the address he'd scribbled down from
the phone book.

But, as he was beginning to learn, nothing
about Angie Hall fit the mold. Where were the sterile whites and
the cold reflection of glass he'd convinced himself he would find?
From the high-ceilinged entry, he glimpsed an old-fashioned but
functional kitchen with touches of red brick. A wide arched doorway
led into the living room, and he glanced inside. The room was
filled with cherry wood antiques that he suspected had cost a
pretty penny. Nonetheless, the pale yellow sprigged wallpaper, the
warm, polished glow of wood and, particularly, the collection of
dolls and doll clothes strewn across the sofa lent a warmth and
coziness that he found tremendously appealing.

This was a home, a real home. Nothing at all
like the museum he and Linda had occupied.

"This is a nice place," he commented, then
found himself admitting, "Somehow I had you pegged as a cliff
dweller."

Angie looked blank. "I beg your pardon?"

"I thought you'd live in an apartment
building." His rueful smile was directed at himself. "You... well,
to tell you the truth, you look like the high-rise type."

Angie raised her eyebrows and made a quick
inspection of herself. "Really?" she asked dryly.

"Let me rephrase that. You looked like the
high-rise type."

"In case you hadn't noticed, Westridge
doesn't have any high rises." She smiled again, a slow, sweet smile
that had Matt holding his breath and wishing he'd met her fifteen
years ago. "Unless you count the Bulletin building," she added.
"It's eight stories high."

Who the hell was Todd? he wondered again. And
what, really, was he to her?

Whatever Matt had been about to say never
materialized. There was a knock at the front door. Angie went to
open it, and Matt heard a cheery "Hello, there! Sorry we took so
long, but I had to change Eric at the last minute."

A petite brunette with a baby balanced on one
hip filed inside, followed by a young girl wearing the same uniform
as her mother, Angie and her daughters. A friendly-looking man
brought up the rear as Angie quickly made the necessary
introductions.

The baby was placed on his feet and
immediately disappeared after Nancy, who had run off, Matt
presumed, to find Angie's daughters.

"So you're our big-time police chief from
Chicago." Janice Crawford turned to Matt, her dark eyes shining.
"Do you like lollipops?" At his quizzical look she laughed and eyed
Angie, who smiled weakly. "Never mind. It's just a joke." She
hooked her arm through her husband's.

Bill picked up where she left off. "How do
you like Westridge so far?" he asked. "Quite a change from Chicago,
I'll bet."

It was Matt's turn to send a sidelong glance
at Angie. "The more I see, the more I like," he murmured.

Angie wasn't quite sure how to take the
remark, and judging from the unmistakable male gleam in his eyes,
she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Now that he had done his duty
and delivered her shoes, she had yet to figure out why he was
staying. Checking her watch, she said apologetically, "I hate to
cut this short, but I'm afraid Janice and I and the girls have a
date at the baseball park." She paused, hoping Matt would pick up
the hint and bow out gracefully.

Janice didn't even give him a chance. "Say,
how would you like to come along?" She pretended not to see when a
wide-eyed Angie sent her a warning look. "Bill gets a big kick out
of watching the games, and you might, too."

Angie's heart sank when Matt seemed to
consider the idea. Having him stop by for a few short minutes was
one thing, but having him tag along to the girls' game was quite
another. She knew full well what Janice was up to, and she also had
the sneaking suspicion that Matt Richardson didn't mind in the
least.

She quickly took advantage of the momentary
lull. "Oh, I'm sure he has plenty of other things to do on a
Saturday afternoon. Don't you, Matt?"

His eyes conveyed a rather wicked
satisfaction as she finally called him by the abbreviated version
of his name. She knew she was doomed the minute she saw it. "As a
matter of fact, I can't think of a reason not to come."

Except one—Angie didn't really want him
along. There was no doubt in his mind that what he was about to do
wouldn't exactly endear him to her, but at the moment Matt wasn't
feeling very sensible. Not sensible at all.

Janice positively beamed. "Great!" she said
with her usual vibrancy. She called the other children. When they
were all clustered around her, she lifted a finger and counted
heads. "There's eight of us. Too many to fit in our car, even
though it's a station wagon. Especially with the police chief
along." She added coyly, "I seem to remember something about a law
against driving while encumbered."

"I don't mind driving," he said easily. "As
long as someone points me in the right direction."

"Angie can go with you, then," Janice said
breezily. She thrust the baby into Bill's arms and quickly herded
the other children out the front door, flashing a brief glance at
Matt. "See you at the park!" she called over her shoulder.

Seeing the look Janice gave Matt, Angie
muttered something under her breath. It was all she had time for
before she was left alone with him.

Matt didn't have to hear what she was
mumbling to know it wasn't anything complimentary, and he couldn't
hold back a grin at Angie's condemning stare.

"I plead not guilty." He held up both hands
in a conciliatory gesture. "If Janice hadn't asked me along, I
wouldn't be going. Although I'll admit it might have been nicer if
you had asked me."

Angie said nothing. She stared at him for a
moment longer, then shook her head with a resigned sigh.

Matt laughed. Reaching out, he retrieved the
baseball cap she'd dropped on the table near the door. "Smile,
Angie," he told her, dropping the cap on her head. "It's the
neighborly thing to do."

CHAPTER FIVE

The neighborly thing to do . . . It was a
thought Angie tried to keep in mind during the drive to the
baseball field in Matt's BMW. Matt Richardson was, after all, a
stranger in town.

Which somehow brought to mind his teasing
gibe last night that they were kindred spirits. The thought was
oddly disconcerting, yet she found herself wondering if it was
true. She'd always considered herself quiet but intense. And Matt?
He struck her as a man who knew exactly what he wanted. A man who
was somewhat of a loner, someone who blended in with the crowd
around him and yet was different, separate.

The need for human comfort and warmth was a
basic one, one that went hand in hand with trust, and Angie was not
yet ready to trust again. She preferred to stand alone—proud but
alone. It was safer, if not easier.

Matt was only barely cognizant of the lazy
charm of the broad, tree-lined streets, the scent of freshly mowed
grass drifting in through the open window. His eyes shifted away
from the street toward the woman who sat on the other side of the
car. He wondered at her thoughts as she stared silently out the
window.

He felt like an intruder as he casually
commented, "Your friends seem nice. Have you known them long?"

Angie turned her head slightly to look at
him. "About eight years. Ever since we moved into the neighborhood
from across town."

His mind zeroed in on her use of the word
"we." Did she mean she and her daughters? Or she and her ex-
husband? He had a sudden urgent compulsion to know everything about
her. His instinct told him she wouldn't welcome an inquisition into
her background. Angie Hall was one cautious woman, and he realized
at the same moment that it was altogether possible that what he'd
perceived as icy distance was no more than cautious restraint.

He settled for a gentle probing. "So you're a
local, then?"

A faint smile curved her lips as she nodded.
"Born, raised and educated in Westridge--from kindergarten to
college."

"College?" He shook his head. "Don't tell me.
Political science major, right?"

"Wrong." She laughed. It was a tentative
sound but a laugh nonetheless. "Economics. I worked as a financial
planner a few years ago," she found herself confessing. "And
believe it or not, all in Westridge."

"I see." Matt chuckled. "No dreams of seeing
the world and setting it on its ear after graduation?"

Her smile faded. She'd had the world at her
fingertips already—or so she thought. What need had there been to
search for more? "No," she answered quickly. "I...got married." She
focused on her hands for a moment as her mind traveled fleetingly
backward.

She and Evan had met on a warm, brilliant
summer day much like today. Angie's studies had been too important
for her to devote much time to the social aspects of college life.
But Evan had changed that. He was a very masculine and attractive
man, intelligent with a smooth, polished manner. He had given her
glorious sun-filled days of laughter, moonlit nights of loving. It
had been an irresistible combination. Evan was a man who had known
what he wanted, and what he had wanted was Angie. They had married
during their last year in college.