What Mattered Most (15 page)

A quiet, dismal air hung over the dinner table. Lanie picked at her food, pushing a green bean around her plate with her fork. Two months remained of John’s leave. She darted a look at him. “When are you going to start looking for a new place?”

His head jerked up, and the look he shot her bordered on a glare. “I don’t know. Soon.”

She stabbed a tine through the hapless vegetable. “I just know rentals can be tough to find sometimes. It might take a while.”

“Tomorrow soon enough for you?” He lifted his glass in her direction.

Sadness flowed through her. “John, I’m not trying to—”

The doorbell pealed, cutting off her words. John pushed away from the table and tossed his napkin by his plate. “Can’t wait to see who that is.”

Her appetite gone, Lanie laid her fork across her plate. She covered her face with her hands. They weren’t going to be able to do this. All they succeeded in doing was hurting each other.

“Hey, gorgeous, how are you feeling?” A familiar male voice brought her head up. Casey McInvale, another detective from John’s precinct, grinned at her. She liked Casey, always had. He and his girlfriend had often joined her and John for Saturday morning tennis games.

“I’m fine. How about you?” She rose as he came around the table to give her a swift hug. He pulled back, concern glinting in his brown eyes. “And how’s Lisa?”

“She’s good. She wants to come see you, but didn’t want to wear you out with visitors just yet. She’s dying to see the baby.”

Lanie smiled, the expression feeling tight and fake. “Tell her to come. I’d love to see her.”

His grin widened. “I’ll do that.”

Indicating the folders he held, Lanie stepped away. “Well, I know you didn’t come just to see me. I’ll leave you two alone.”

“I was just dropping these off,” Casey explained. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at John. “John-boy’s got to be in court in a couple of weeks on the Vansant case. The DA wanted Beth to testify, but says he can settle for O’Reilly.”

At the mention of Beth’s name, Lanie darted a glance at John’s face. She wondered how much of the whole sordid mess his colleagues knew. He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. Casey turned. “Have you heard from her? The guys have asked about her.”

John shrugged, his gaze not leaving Lanie’s. “She’s settled in with her aunt in El Paso. Nicole’s having some trouble getting adjusted to school. That’s about it.”

Everything inside Lanie shut down, and she averted her gaze. Why was she surprised he’d been in contact with Beth? Hell, nothing should surprise her anymore where he was concerned. The rest of Casey and John’s conversation went over her head, lost in the buzzing of her jumbled thoughts.

The warmth of Casey’s quick embrace jerked her to awareness. “Take care,” he said. “I’ll tell Lisa to call before she comes.”

While John walked his colleague to the door, she stood frozen, anger and hurt and betrayal rolling through her. Oh, yeah, it wasn’t too late. They could make things better. Deceitful rat. How stupid was she? She’d let his relationship with the baby blind her, let him begin worming his way under her defenses again.

“Lanie.” The quiet firmness of his voice raised her anger to fury. “Stop it. It’s not like it sounds.”

“Really?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “How does it sound, John?”

“We’ve talked twice. Both times it was because of work, straightening out open and pending cases.”

She stacked their plates and took them into the kitchen. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, remember? I don’t care what you do.”

He followed. “Damn it, would you stop? It was two phone calls that didn’t mean anything.”

A small, derisive snort escaped her. “Yeah, kind of like us having sex.”

A hand on her shoulder, he pulled her around to face him. He lowered his head. “You think that? You think making love to you didn’t mean anything to me?”

“I think I was an easy lay, a substitute for what you really wanted, and you got caught by a bad condom.” She dropped the words between them with deadly precision and watched him flinch. “Are you going to try to make me think differently?”

“Maybe at first it was like that. But not later.”

Her harsh laugh exploded between them. “And when did you figure that out? While you were asking for her when you woke up?”

“No,” he snapped, his fingers a cruel clamp on her arms. “When I had to face the fact that you might die and I saw what I stood to lose.”

She pushed down on the bend of his elbows, breaking his hold. Her fingers rubbed the aching skin where his fingers had been. “That’s the thing, O’Reilly. You can’t lose what you never really had. We didn’t have anything but sex and lust.”

“Is that all you felt for me?” Quiet resignation lingered in his voice.

“Yes,” she lied. His face paled, but her urge for self-preservation was strong. Having her father in her home had only underscored how close she came to treading her mother’s path.

“I don’t believe you.” The words emerged on a raw whisper.

“Well, that makes us even.” Her trembling hands clenched into fists, she walked away, leaving him standing in the kitchen, alone.

Hope wanted to spring eternal, but she insisted on squashing it. It whispered to her, telling her to remember the intensity in his voice when he’d talked about being afraid she’d die. It curled up in her, warming her, wanting her to see what the future would hold if she’d give him another chance.

Reality said something different. Joined with anger and self-preservation, it cynically insisted that he couldn’t be trusted. Whenever hope dared to speak, reality laughed and told her to remember the desperation in his voice when he asked for Beth, not her.

After a sleepless night, Lanie had dry, gritty eyes and the desire to be devoid of emotions. She wanted nothing—to feel nothing, to have a vast Arctic tundra where her heart lay.

Her stomach rumbled, and she pushed away the covers. Physical needs she could handle. Coffee, a pain reliever for her aching head, and food. Barefoot, she padded down the hall, unable to resist a quick glance into the nursery. John slept on his side, back to the door.

The polished wood floor was cool under her feet, and the aroma of coffee filled the downstairs. A cup and spoon sat in the kitchen sink beside one of Sonny Buck’s empty bottles. Lanie pulled down another mug. The morning paper lay in sections on the breakfast bar, and sipping her coffee, she climbed onto a stool.

The folded classified rested on top. When she reached to push them aside, her hand stilled. Slashing red circles surrounded several ads for house and apartment rentals. The tiny newsprint blurred, and she blinked. What was wrong with her? She
wanted
him to move out.

Footsteps on the stairs kicked her pulse up a notch. John strolled into the kitchen and poured a fresh cup of coffee. He didn’t speak, but leaned around her to pick up the discarded classifieds. The faded scent of his soap, mingled with baby powder, invaded her senses. He dropped bread in the toaster and opened the newspaper with a snap.

Silence and tension hovered in the room until Lanie couldn’t stand it any longer. “John, I—”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Lanie.” The toast popped up, and she watched the play of muscles in his arms as he buttered it. “I’m looking for another place like you wanted, all right?”

She wrapped her hands around her mug. “I think it’s for the best.”

“Yeah.” He slid the toast in front of her and dropped two more slices of bread in the toaster. “We need to make arrangements for custody and visitation.”

Her stomach dropped. She’d dreaded this conversation. “You know I wouldn’t ever keep him from you. He needs you.”

He finally looked at her, and the dead expression in his navy gaze startled her. “Right now, I think he’s better off with me.”

“Have you lost your mind?” she whispered. Suddenly, she was thirteen again, listening to her father’s cold voice telling her mother she was unfit. “No.”

“I said right now. Not forever. I spent half the night thinking about this, Lanie. You can’t take care of him—”

“Oh my God! You sound just like my father.” Anger washed through her in a wave, followed by guilt. God, even he saw what she lacked as a mother. “I can care for him. I may have to hire someone—”

“I’m not having him shoved on strangers who don’t give a damn about him.” John’s jaw clenched in a stubborn line.

Her harsh laugh exploded in the small room. “Listen to you. Three weeks ago, you didn’t give a damn about him.”

“At least I give a damn now, which is more than you can say,” he snapped.

The words hung between them, and she stared at him, her heart thudding. “What?”

His face pale, he shook his head. Mug in hand, he made to walk out of the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No. What the hell did you mean by that?” Grabbing his arm, she pulled him around. Coffee sloshed over the side of his mug, splattering her feet. She ignored the pinpricks of pain and stared up him, breathing hard. “Answer me.”

He swallowed, throat working in a convulsive motion. “You’re not connected to him, are you? You’re stronger, better, but when was the last time you held him?”

She didn’t want to think about his words, acknowledge he might be right. Her anger prompted an offensive attack. “So the key to getting me connected to him is taking him away?”

“I never wanted to take him away.” The torn whisper mirrored the anguish on his face. He shook his head. “You want me out, but I have to think about what’s best for him.”

“And that’s not me.” Bitterness curled around each word. He thought she was a failure as a mother. Maybe, but she knew enough not to deprive her son of a father who loved him. Weary, she passed a hand over her eyes, her fingertips still warm from the contact with his bare skin. “Don’t go yet.”

“What?”

She looked up to meet his gaze. “Don’t look for another place yet. We’ve managed this long; we can make it work a little longer. At least until your leave is up.”

Hot water cascaded over John’s neck and shoulders, doing little to relieve the knots of exhausted tension there. He’d been granted a reprieve, but there was still too much to lose.

He stuck his head under the water, remembering the feel of Lanie’s hand on his arm earlier. She’d touched him out of anger, but the brief contact had taken his breath. Deprived of her touch, he’d grown hungry for it over the weeks. When her fingertips slid over his arm, he’d wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and feel her next to him.

More than anything, he wanted her touching him, kissing him, the way she’d done before he’d screwed everything to hell. No, not like before. He wanted her caressing him with love and forgiveness. He wanted her whispering the words against his skin. He wanted her crying them out while he came inside her.

A shudder worked its way over his skin, and heavy arousal settled in his groin. He groaned. Not likely he’d ever hear those words on her lips. The same words trembled constantly on his tongue, but he couldn’t say them. She wouldn’t believe him, and he couldn’t blame her. Judging from her reaction to just his talking to Beth, he didn’t think his campaign to prove himself trustworthy and steadfast showed much success.

Implying she doesn’t care about her baby was a damn stroke of genius, O’Reilly.

He didn’t get it, though. Once she’d gotten over the initial shock of finding herself pregnant despite their best precautions, she’d been excited about becoming a mother. For months, their conversations—mostly one-sided—had revolved around the baby. She’d wanted that baby with a desperation that bordered on the obsessive.

And now she hardly looked at him. Hardly touched him. What was she afraid of?

Slicking his hair back, he shut off the water and stepped out, no closer to an answer or a solution. A towel wrapped around his waist, he strode into the nursery. The grumbling from the crib told him Sonny was awake—not happy, but not yet squalling.

He dressed quickly and lifted the baby from the crib. “Hey, big guy. Hungry?”

The irritable fussing stopped, and Sonny graced him with a rare smile. John grinned back. He lifted the baby, found a sodden diaper and headed for the changing table. Sonny stretched and kicked while John removed the wet diaper. After seeing the suggestion in one of Lanie’s myriad baby books, John had propped an unbreakable mirror on the table, and Sonny turned his head, staring at his own reflection. His legs pumped faster.

Chuckling, John wiped, powdered and lifted tiny legs to slide a clean diaper under an equally clean bottom. “Kid, you have one serious case of bedhead.”

He smoothed the dark wisps down the best he could. Sonny turned toward his voice, and John rested his arms on the railing, bringing his face closer to his son’s. “So, what are we going to do about your mom, Sonny Buck?”

Sonny’s gaze locked on his face, and John rubbed his palm over the tiny head. His thumb traced a minuscule ear. “Maybe she just needs more one-on-one time with you, an opportunity to get to know you. I mean, you’re kind of intimidating at first.”

The only reply he received was another wide, toothless grin. With another chuckle, John lifted him against his shoulder and headed downstairs, already feeling better. If time and proximity had worked on him, it had to work on Lanie as well.

Cursing, Lanie ripped another voided check in half. The slips of colorful paper joined the small pile of confetti already on the table. She’d transposed the amounts twice, and once she’d finally gotten the digits correct, she’d screwed up the number words. Math had always been her strong point, and now she couldn’t even write a check. Frustrated tears burned her eyes, and she dropped her head in her hands.

“Want some help?” Above her head, John’s voice was sympathetic.

The urge to tell him what he could do with his help almost choked her, but she pushed the words down. She lifted her head, brushing her hair back. “All I’m trying to do is pay the mortgage, and I can’t even do that.”

Horrified, she heard the crack in her voice. John chuckled. “I think I can handle that for you. Here, take him.”

He deposited Sonny Buck in her uneasy hold and pulled the checkbook in front of him. She hated him for the ease with which he scribbled the information. Tired of feeling inadequate, she turned her attention to the baby in her arms. His wide navy eyes were alert and watchful, his gaze locked on her face. She couldn’t remember seeing him this awake before. He blinked, thick, dark lashes fanning over his cheeks.

John tore the check from the pad and stuffed it in the envelope. “You know they’d set this up on automatic deduction for you.”

“I know.” She stared at her son, not wanting to talk about the daily tasks she couldn’t do anymore. Phone numbers she knew by heart she had to look up now, and half the time she still dialed them wrong. The coffee she’d run earlier would choke a camel because she’d added the wrong number of scoops. God knows how her mind would mangle the radio ten codes if she ever got back to work. A shiver tingled over her spine.

Road duty was out of the question. Hell, she couldn’t even dispatch. She couldn’t afford a mistake in the radio room, where minutes and correct codes were a literal matter of life or death. Her throat closed, and she leaned forward, lips pressed to Sonny’s forehead.

“Lanie? You all right?”

She shifted, lifting the baby against her shoulder. His downy head brushed her neck. She didn’t look up at John. “I’m fine.”

“He’s due for a feeding, so don’t be surprised if he starts bawling. I’ll go warm a bottle.”

“What are we going to do, baby?” she whispered once she was sure John had gone. How was she going to provide for him? Sonny Buck lifted his wobbly head from her shoulder for a second and bumped his nose when he couldn’t hold it up anymore. He let out an outraged wail.

Lanie clutched him tighter, patting his back. She wanted to howl with him.

“Here you go.”

She glanced up, blinking back tears. John held out the bottle, and she stared at it. He wasn’t going to feed the baby? Hesitating, she shifted Sonny into the curve of her arm and accepted the bottle, its comforting warmth seeping into her palm. “Thank you.”

“I already tested it.” John laid a burping cloth over the baby’s chest and knelt beside her chair. Sliding his hand behind Sonny’s head, he shifted their son’s position in her arms. “Hold him up a little, and he doesn’t swallow as much air.”

His proximity increased her nervousness, and she waited for him to move away. With his hand still cupping the baby’s head, his fingertips lay a breath away from the curve of her breast. How many times had she imagined this scenario during her pregnancy? The only difference was, that in her fantasies, their son suckled at her breast. Sadness shivered through her.

“What are you thinking?” John’s soft whisper brought her gaze up to his. The jumble of naked emotions in his navy eyes closed her throat and brought a tingling warmth to her lower abdomen.

She dropped her gaze and watched Sonny, his eyes closed in bliss. John’s finger stroked over the baby’s forehead. Hugging his precious weight against her, she shook her head. “Just that I’m sorry I didn’t get to nurse him.”

“So am I.” His voice remained soft, and she felt the heaviness of his gaze on her again. She refused to look up, but instead watched the rhythmic stroke of his fingers on the baby’s head. “Maybe next time.”

“You must be kidding.” Her heart jerked. She couldn’t imagine having another man’s baby, but didn’t intend to have another with him, either. “Do you want another?”

“I’m still getting used to him.” He was so close she felt his easy shrug. “But, yeah, I might like one more.”

The idea of another woman bearing his child scalded her with jealousy. She covered it with a harsh laugh. “Shouldn’t you talk to Beth about that?”

One of his long fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Let’s get this straight—I have no intention of giving Beth or any other woman a baby. And you’re not going to be able to hide behind her forever, Lanie.”

She shook her head, and he lowered his hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rubbed his hands over his jeans-clad thighs. “I don’t have to be here. I could’ve walked off, hired a nurse to help you, written you a child support check and gone after Beth. But I didn’t. I’m in this for the long haul, honey.”

The words and the single-minded intent behind them frightened her. The weak part of her that still remembered the way it had been wanted to trust him, to believe in him. The stronger, self-sufficient part smothered the weakness. He could still walk away. This time, her laugh bordered on a disgusted snort. “Yeah. You’re the stand-up, trustworthy type, O’Reilly. I can’t tell you how secure that makes me feel.”

He looked away with a muttered profanity, and Lanie resisted the urge to cover Sonny’s ears.

The phone rang. John pushed to his feet and stalked into the kitchen to answer. Lanie blew out a shaky breath, feeling as though she’d just gone rounds with a recalcitrant suspect. The nipple popped free from Sonny’s relaxed mouth, air gurgling into the remaining formula. She set the bottle on the table, watching her shaking hand with detachment. He could be so persuasive and convincing when he wanted to be. She almost believed him.

Almost.

He walked back into the room, hand covering the mouthpiece on the cordless phone. “Lisa wants to know if it’s all right if she comes to see you this afternoon.”

Lifting the baby to her shoulder, Lanie hesitated. She wasn’t sure she was really up for visitors yet, but the day stretched before her—trapped in the house with John. She swallowed and forced a smile. “Sure. I’d love to see her.”