Maternal Instinct (26 page)

In fact, after less than one week, to her great surprise she was finding she liked being married. She'd expected to have trouble sleeping with a strange, hairy man in her bed, for example, but instead she was often restless until he got home from work and joined her. There was comfort, she'd discovered, in the rhythm of his breathing and the slow, deep beat of his heart when she awakened with her head pillowed on his broad chest.

The sound of his footstep quickened something in her, made her feel young and eager and hopeful. Nell snorted in disgust and dug out another spoonful of ice cream. Here she was worried about
him
fantasizing! And, oh, yeah, ending up crushingly disappointed when he couldn't slay the dragon. Meanwhile, what had she been doing? Imagining fairy-tale endings of her own, the prince smiling tenderly into the eyes of the just awakened princess—who, by the way, he didn't know from Eve … no, Kelly—and saying, "I love you. Be mine for all eternity."

Another snort seemed fitting, even if she got ice cream in her sinuses and ended up with her nose and eyes running and her having to mop herself up with a paper towel.

Divorce. That's how marriages ended these days, not in death after fifty golden years.

Nell abruptly closed the carton of ice cream.
Face it,
she thought bleakly,
I
had some secret dreams that ain't gonna come true.
So be it.

And she wasn't going to feel sorry for Hugh, either. He hadn't had to screw her in the back seat of his Explorer. A whole lot of that had been his idea, as she recalled.

"Got a blanket in back." He'd said that. And something about cuddling. "We could just take off our pants," he had suggested hopefully. She heard his voice, taut and electric, saying, "Let go, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.
An all-purpose name for any woman in the dark, apparently, the better to avoid a fatal slip wherein Nell became Kelly.

Mad now, Nell shoved the ice cream back in the freezer and slammed the door shut. She felt like kicking something.

He'd done more than participate. He'd
initiated
sex.

And she sure wouldn't have thought of marrying him! Nope, that idea was his, too. So to hell with him.

Her face started to crumple, but she wouldn't let it. No tears. He'd made his own bed—which, unfortunately, was hers. She just resented being cast in this drama. If he was going to be so damn miserable tied down with a wife and child, he could have left her out of it!

Her gaze found the clock—8:14. Her anger found new focus. Just where was Kim, who'd been having dinner at Colin's house but had promised—promised!—to be home by seven-thirty?

She was probably getting pregnant right this second.

At last, Nell's tears flowed. Even as she heard the slam of a car door outside and running footsteps, she fled to her bedroom. If she turned on the shower, Kim wouldn't hear her cry.

Wearily Hugh parked
the squad car, locked up and started across the parking garage to check out. Damn, he hated this shift! He just wanted to be home…

A hand clapped him firmly on the back. "How's marriage treating you?"

He jumped six inches and his hand instinctively closed on the butt of his gun before he realized Ludlum and
Wolzien
had caught up with him. How oblivious had he been?

He forced a smile. "Good."

Wolzien
gave a lascivious grin. "Married to a cop. Does she cuff you in bed? Or hey! Do you cuff her?"

Hiding his distaste, Hugh tried to keep his tone good-humored. "We haven't gotten that bored yet."

He was glad to open the heavy metal door into the station, where the first person he saw was John.

He stopped, letting the other two go ahead down the hall. "What are you doing here this time of night?" Hugh exclaimed.

John looked like hell, bags under his eyes. "Natalie couldn't take time off this morning, and Grace had an ear ache. I took her to the pediatrician and came in late."

"Cried all night, huh?"

"Like a metronome. See what you have to look forward to?" His brother gave a wry grin. "You on your way home?"

"Mm."

"Captain put you and Nell on different shifts just to be cruel?"

"Henderson is out for knee surgery. I'm covering."

"You got a minute?" John asked.

Hiding his urgent desire to be out of here, Hugh shrugged. "Sure." Nell would be asleep anyway. Pregnant women were usually tired, and given the time she had to be up, she couldn't wait up for him. He shouldn't hope every night that she had.

He followed John into the conference room that the Joplin Building task force had taken over. Charts papered the walls; six-inch piles of paperwork buried the long table.

John pushed some aside and half sat on the edge. "I've been reading your reports on your last interviews." He sounded abrupt, perhaps just from tiredness.

"And?"

"Nobody liked Ryman, did they?"

Hugh shook his head. "The people who worked with him vary from a few who didn't much like him in any active sense to the ones who downright
disliked
him. Hard to say anybody hated him, they're not that forthcoming."

"I thought you were making up stories."

Hugh tensed. "Yeah. I noticed."

John let out a heavy sigh. "But when I put it all together—the missing gun, the reports that the shot closer to the elevator came first, and the fact that the victim sure as hell isn't going to be missed by his coworkers—I have to wonder."

Wonder.
Gee, Hugh thought sardonically, was this a breakthrough?

"I want you back on it."

"Why me?" Hugh looked a challenge at his big brother. "You have half a dozen officers assigned to this case."

"Not one of whom used his head the way you did."

"Flattery?" Hugh mocked, to hide a spurt of pleasure.

"Belatedly." John grimaced. "I can't say much. I was too busy looking at the forest to see the trees."

"Nice simile." Hugh thought of his sister-in-law Mariah, the English teacher. "Or whatever the hell it is."

"Got me." John didn't look like he cared. "I'll talk to the captain tomorrow. I need you on this. He can find someone else to cover for Henderson. If," he added scrupulously, "you agree."

"Sure." Hugh made his shrug careless. Inside, he was exulting, not just at the vindication, but at the image of cozy evenings at home with his new wife. He'd missed her this past week.

"You talked to Mom lately?" John sounded casual. Carefully so, if Hugh was any judge.

He tensed. "Nope."

His brother met his eyes squarely. "Why don't you let her apologize?"

Hugh's jaw tightened. "For what? Living in the past? Thinking I'm hunting Dad's killer? She can't help it."

"For upsetting you."

Hugh made a noise in his throat. "She noticed?"

"She does love us."

"Sure she does." Hugh yawned, his jaw cracking. "Can I go home now?"

"Talk to her." Standing, John clapped him on the back, much as Ludlum had earlier, but with more affection. "I'm going to head home, too."

They parted ways, Hugh to check out, John to close up his office. Walking out to the car, Hugh ran a hand over his bristly jaw. He'd shave when he got home, even if the bedroom was dark, just in case…

Hell, he was walking so damn fast to his SUV, he might as well be running.
Eager?
he asked himself with some amusement. Who'd have thought he'd be the traditional newlywed, panting to get home to his pretty wife?

He shook his head as he inserted the key in the ignition. Six months ago, he would have told anyone who asked that he had no interest in marriage. The bachelor life suited him. Now he was pledged to eternal faith to one woman, 2:00 a.m. diaper changing, and he could hardly wait to get home. How changeable was man.

Kim was the only one up when he got home. Straddling a stool at the kitchen counter, she was eating ice cream right out of the carton.

"Hi."

He nodded at the ice cream. "If your mom catches you…"

"Don't tell?"

"Eat away." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm going to hit the sack."

"Um…"

At her tentative beginning, Hugh turned. "Yeah?"

She'd paused in her illicit dessert. "I heard Mom crying earlier," Kim said in a rush. "Is something wrong?"

Crying?
"Wrong?" he echoed stupidly.

"Like with the baby?" she asked anxiously. "Or did you, um, have a fight or something?"

He didn't
see
his wife often enough for them to have had a fight. "No fight. And she hasn't said anything." He stopped, remembering Connor's distraction during Mariah's pregnancy. "Pregnant women can be pretty emotional."

"Really?" The teenager wrinkled her nose. "They puke and cry, too?"

"Afraid so." But he was still frowning. Nell, crying? She wasn't the type. He'd have sworn on a stack of Bibles that if she got emotional, she'd be punching him, not weeping.

"Why does anybody
get
pregnant?" her daughter burst out, then flushed. "That is…" she stumbled on, "I mean … like, on purpose?"

She was asking him? But he answered, "Because they get a baby out of it. And then a child, and then," he grinned at her, "a snotty teenager."

She let that slide. "Do you
want
a baby? I mean, I know you married my mom and everything, and probably you'll love this one when he's born, but do you ever wish…" She hesitated, but he could fill in the blanks.

Do you ever wish none of this had happened? That you could go back? That you didn't
have
to be a daddy?

As tired as he was, Hugh let her see in his smile exactly how he felt. "I can hardly wait." Less seriously, he added, "Of course, I'm not the one puking and crying."

Kim scrunched up her face again. "Mom's probably the one who
really
wants to get it over with."

He laughed, although her choice of words stirred his uneasiness. He hoped like hell that Nell wasn't just enduring a pregnancy she-hadn't wanted.

"You want some ice cream?" Kim invited, tilting the carton toward him.

Hugh shook his head. "Thanks. See you in the morning." He actually saw more of his stepdaughter than he did of Nell. Which would be changing by next week, if John had his way.

The bedroom was dark. Hugh stood in the doorway, listening for the sound of a quiet, desperate sob. For her breathing. "Nell?" he said in a low voice. No answer.

He went into the bathroom and shut the door before he turned on the light. There he brushed his teeth and shaved with a hand razor so as not to wake her if she was really sleeping. After rubbing aftershave on his cheeks, Hugh shook his head at himself. "You're desperate," he muttered.

Nell didn't stir when he climbed into bed, not even the restless movement of a sleeper briefly disturbed. If she was asleep, she was sure as hell breathing quietly. Hugh put out a hand and laid it on her waist, over the thin cotton of her gown.

She stiffened, but didn't turn.

Watching her dark silhouette, he withdrew his hand. He knew a rejection when he felt one. Rolling onto his back, Hugh stared at the ceiling, feeling the space between them as if he'd measured and weighed it.

The tightening in his chest he finally recognized as hurt. If she was awake and didn't want to make love, all she had to do was say so. He'd have been happy to hold her, murmur a few comforting words as she told him what was wrong.

Unless what was wrong was big. So big, it was past fixing.