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  What she saw on his face was not skepticism but concern. "You know, I can have someone stay with you." In fact, he'd prefer it.

  But Lila shook her head, vetoing the idea. "Brian, I'm a policewoman. Just because I sit behind a desk doesn't mean that I don't remember how to take care of myself."

  She was touchy, he knew that. "I'm not saying that, but I''d feel a hell of a lot better if someone was here with you."

  Like a wet nurse, she thought, frustrated. Maybe she shouldn't have come to him for help in the first place. "I wouldn't."

  Duchess was circling him now, sniffing his pant legs from all angles as if to determine whether or not he was trustworthy. "Safety in numbers," Brian insisted. "Maybe one of your sons—"

  "No," she said firmly. "I said I didn't want them brought into this."

  "Then one of my sons," he countered. "Or one of Andrew's daughters—" He didn't care who it was as long as there was someone else here with her, someone with two feet rather than four, he thought, glancing at the circling, aging German shepherd.

  "I don't need a babysitter," Lila told him flatly. She looked tense again. "I thought you were here to take me out, not lecture me."

  He knew what worked with her and what didn't. For a moment, his concern had made him forget that when it came to her own safety, Lila had to be dealt with with kid gloves. She couldn't be bullied into anything.

  With a nod, he opened the door and went out again.

  Was he leaving? "Where are you going?" Lila cried, surprised.

  Brian turned back around to face her before he answered. "I'm starting over. You want to close the door so I can ring the doorbell again?"

  Her tension dissipated as swiftly as it had come. Laughing, she grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back inside.

  "Not necessary. Wait here," she told him. "I'll get my purse."

  Brian leaned against the doorsill. Duchess had stopped circling and sniffing. She now stood on the scatter rug just inside the foyer, looking up at him and panting. He scratched her behind the ear. The way her foot thumped, he knew he had a friend for life.

  "Will you be bringing the gun?" Brian asked, raising his voice so that she could hear him.

  Lila walked back into the living room. "I don't need a gun with you."

  "No," he said amiably. "You don't."

  Now that he was no longer staring the barrel of her service revolver, Brian looked at what Lila was wearing. The soft folds of the simple aqua dress whispered along her curves as she walked toward him.

  She looked as if she hadn't gained an ounce in the last twenty years, he thought. Four children later, she still had the shape of the young woman he'd met fresh out of the academy.

  Brian banked down his thoughts, allowing them to go no further. Despite her protests to the contrary, Lila was in a vulnerable place right now. Any moves he made on her now would be taking advantage of the situation—and her. That wasn't what he wanted—even if he did.

  "Andrew wanted me to bring you over to his place for dinner tonight, but I thought maybe you'd prefer to start small."

  "Start small?"

  His mouth curved in a warm smile. "One Cavanaugh at a time."

  Petting the dog, she slipped out the front door ahead of him. "You always were very intuitive."

  "Part of my charm."

  Lila locked the door and dropped the keys into her purse. "And your ego," she laughed.

  He opened the passenger side of his car and held the door opened for her. "Oh, it's going to be like that, is it?"

  She got in, aware that his glance took in her legs. Aware that she felt a stirring of pride in response. "It's going to be exactly like that."

  Just like old times, Brian thought.

  For a moment, it felt as if he had slipped into a time warp. And he loved it.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  The restaurant was known for its seafood and atmosphere. The lighting was soft and their table had a perfect view of the ocean as it flirted with the moonlight. Brian had purposely kept the conversation light all through the entree and main course, bringing up cases they had successfully handled during their partnership and reminiscing about old times. He'd asked her about her children and watched her face glow as she told him how Zack had made detective and that Taylor was studying to take the exam herself in a couple of months. Riley and Frank were still busy learning the ropes on the force. All were doing quite well. They took to police work like the proverbial ducks to water.

  Lila confessed a bit sheepishly that she was having a little trouble coming to terms with their choice of vocation.

  "Part of me wanted them to do something safer," she told him, her eyes downcast as she watched the candle light the surface of her margarita. Her lips twisted in an ironic expression. "Like join the Navy SEALS," she quipped.

  As a parent, Brian understood exactly what she was saying and how she felt. But as the chief of detectives, he had found a way to come to terms with the fact that his three sons were all police detectives and his daughter was an assistant to the district attorney.

  "It's not that bad," he assured her. "There are a great many more dangerous cities for a cop than Aurora."

  She knew the statistics as well as anyone. Lila slowly twirled the stem of her glass between her thumb and forefinger. "There is that, I guess."

  "Besides, with both their parents in law enforcement, it's not exactly a surprise that your kids chose that for themselves. It's all they've ever known—by proxy. In my family, if you take in Andrew's kids and Mike's, nine out of eleven made it into the force—and only Patience is really outside of it."

  "But her husband's a cop."

  Brian smiled, thinking of the way the taciturn young man had blossomed since he'd joined the family. "That he is. And so is Janelle's husband. I guess there's no getting away from it. It's in the blood."

  She didn't know about that. There were those on the force whose offspring wouldn't be caught dead in a uniform. She took another sip of her drink. Despite the meal, she could feel the alcohol coursing through her veins. Making her feel somewhat light-headed. It was a struggle to remain focused on her subject.

  Especially since she felt a warmth enveloping her every time she looked up at Brian.

  "Some kids rebel," she pointed out. "They pick something 180 degrees different than their parents' line of work."

  She took a long breath. Was that his cologne she detected? Damn, but it did things to her, made her think...

  Focus, Lila, focus.

  "Frank and Riley both joined the force after Ben was killed."

  She didn't add that she had tried very hard to talk both her son and her daughter out of it—but both remained politely stubborn. They'd told her they understood what she was feeling, but that they felt that this was something they had to do. She'd more or less expected it of Riley, but Frank—Francis—was a surprise. She still thought of him as her baby.

  It was hard reconciling the fact that her baby was now wearing a gun.

  Brian had his own theory about why certain things evolved the way they did. "Maybe they thought that by joining, they could silence the rumors."

  Lila didn't bother arguing, or pretending not to know what he was referring to. It'd been three and a half years since Ben died and they were just now beginning to crawl out from beneath the rumors and innuendoes.

  "Maybe," she allowed, taking another sip of her drink. She moved the empty glass to the side.

  No time like the present, Brian thought. "About that—"

  Lila looked up sharply. She'd assumed, because the subject hadn't been raised until now, that he wasn't going to say anything.

  "Brian, I'd rather—"

  She didn't get the chance to tell him that this was a topic she still wanted to ignore, to leave out of their little reunion. She didn't want anything spoiling this evening.

  But because this was the elephant in the living room, Brian felt it needed to be acknowledged. There woul
d be no floor space gained until this was discussed and dismissed properly. When they were partnered, they'd talked about everything and he'd felt more comfortable with her than he had with his own wife. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he wanted that back.

  "Why didn't you come to me?" he asked quietly. "When this whole thing exploded, when Ben's body washed up on shore and the rumors started flying right and left, why didn't you ask my help?" When she made no answer, he added, "Or take it when I offered?"

  Lila glanced out the window at the darkness outside, watching the streaks of moonlight fade into the water.

  "It wasn't your problem," she told him stoically.

  "That's what you say to a stranger, not a friend, not a partner."

  She turned to look at him. A lot of time had passed since they'd sat in a car together, saving the world, or at least the city. A lot of changes had come about.

  "Former partner."

  He never thought of her that way. "I worked alone after you left the force." He shrugged. "And then the promotion came along, so as far as I'm concerned, you were the last partner I had and I always thought of you as such. In the present tense. As my partner."

  The same as she, Lila thought. But she had to keep this to herself. Admitting her feelings would make him start to think. And once he did, he'd know how she felt about him. How she'd always felt, God help her.

  But even if they'd had a relationship that everyone and his brother was privy to, she wouldn't have asked him to fight her battles for her. Nothing would have been won then.

  "How would it have looked, my running to the chief of detectives to have him 'protect me' from the rumors, from the lies?"

  Since when did she care about how things looked? One of the things he'd always admired about her was her independent streak.

  "Like you were using the brains that God gave you."

  But Lila shook her head. "More like I had something to hide."

  And there were plenty of rumors that she'd known about Ben being on the take, that she'd hidden the money herself or that she'd even killed Ben for the money. Horrible, horrible rumors. But she'd held her head up through it all, even offering to take a polygraph test at one point to lay the rumors to rest.

  "Well," she told him firmly, "I had nothing to hide."

  Her eyes were flashing. Brian placed his hand over hers, silently confirming his support. "I know that."

  She squared her shoulders—but left her hand where it was.

  "And I wasn't about to cower in the shadows while people tore Ben down." She couldn't bring herself to believe that he was guilty of anything except a brash temper that earned him his share of enemies. "Ben might have been a lot of things, but he wasn't a rogue cop. He wasn't any of the things they were saying. I was a cop and his wife, I would have known if he was dirty."

  Brian knew she wanted him to agree, but he couldn't lie to her. Though nothing conclusive was ever proven, he felt in his bones that Ben wasn't clean. How dirty he didn't know, but not clean. Lila deserved to know his thoughts on the matter.

  "Maybe the wife was blind to the cop," he suggested kindly.

  He saw her set her jaw hard. "You really believe that?"

  He was in a minefield and he knew it. He chose his words carefully. "I believe, when you love someone, sometimes, unconsciously, your heart has a way of fooling your brain."

  The sad smile on her lips stirred a protectiveness within him. The same sort of thing that he'd felt for her years ago.

  "That's when you love someone unconditionally." She shook her head, remembering things she didn't want to remember. "That wasn't Ben and me, not for a long time. My status at the police station wasn't the only thing that changed that night I got shot. Ben changed, too. He used the incident to make me stay home, saying that I owed it to the kids, that I was being selfish, risking making them motherless just because..." She shrugged, letting her voice trail off as she looked away.

  "Because?" Brian prodded.

  "Because he accused me of wanting to be with you." Ben had put it in far harsher terms than that, calling her a whore, but she didn't want to share that. "He was very, very jealous of you. Even jealous of the fact that you were the one who kept me alive that night." That was when she knew that she no longer loved Ben. When she realized that he would have rather she'd died than owe her life to Brian.

  But there were children to consider and a part of her felt she'd somehow provoked these feelings in her husband because of the way she felt about Brian. So she'd agreed to his demands.

  "So I left the force to save my marriage, and Ben was hardly home, working twice as hard to prove that he was half the man that you were." She looked down into her empty glass. The ice had dissolved, mingling with the light-colored liquid. "God help me, I never admitted this to a living soul, but the day that Ben went missing with his partner, before the police found their bodies, I'd gone to see a divorce lawyer."

  Moisture formed on her eyelashes and she blinked, trying to hold back any tears. She didn't want Brian misunderstanding. Sadness had nothing to do with it.

  "When they found Ben, I felt so damn guilty..." Lila pressed her lips together, trying to rein in her emotions. She looked at her empty glass and laughed shortly. "What do they put into these drinks, anyway? Truth serum?"

  He'd always thought that she'd kept him away because her grief was overwhelming and turning to him would have somehow seemed disloyal to Ben because of unresolved feelings.

  "Lila, if I'd known..."

  She tossed her head, squaring her shoulders again. Reminding him of the stubborn stances she'd been known to take while they'd been partnered together. "Like I said, not your problem."

  The hell it wasn't. "Perhaps we haven't been introduced." He put out his hand to her. "Hello, my name is Brian Cavanaugh. I care about my family and my friends, and I'd like to think that they'd like to have me in their corner when something bad happens to them."

  Lila had had a private funeral for Ben. Although the charges against him were never proven, the cloud he'd been under when he died had never been completely cleared away, either. The department made no offer to have a public ceremony the way they did when one of their own went down in the line of duty. Brian had attended anyway, but he'd never pushed for an opportunity to talk with Lila. The look in her eyes that day had told him to keep his distance.

  After that, the timing had just never seemed right. And so, the months and then years had somehow drifted away.

  With a laugh, Lila took the hand he offered. "Well, I'm here now and I did come to you for help," she reminded him. "By the way, Sgt. Lopez came this morning and hooked everything up. Thank you. I feel better already."

  The trace on her phone was the least he could do. It was hardly enough of a defensive measure. "And I'd feel better if you'd let me post someone at your house."

  She made light of it because she just couldn't bring herself to think that she was in any real danger—which was what she knew Brian was thinking. "Why, Chief Cavanaugh, is that your subtle way of trying to get me to let you spend the night?"

  His eyes met hers. He did his best to look innocent. "Thought never crossed my mind, but now that you mentioned it—"

  Maybe this wasn't a road she wanted to go down, even in jest. Because it hit too close to home. "Pretend I 'unmentioned' it." She glanced at her watch. Where had the time gone? They'd been here over two hours. No wonder the waiter kept hovering and eyeing them. "I think we'd better be going. Tonight's a school night," she reminded him whimsically, referring to the fact that they both had work tomorrow. "And we both have early days tomorrow."

  The waiter was at their table in less time than it took Brian to signal for him. "How do you know what I have?" he asked Lila.

  She didn't bother trying to be coy. "I've kept tabs on you." Brian handed his credit card to the waiter with no hips. "I'm pretty proud of my former partner. You've done very well for yourself." She paused for a second, then added, "Susan would have been proud."

 
Now there she was wrong, Brian thought.

  The waiter returned, presenting him with the bill.

  "No, Susan would have been annoyed at the hours I keep." He signed his name after adding in a generous tip. The waiter, pretending not to look, grinned broadly. "She always complained that I was married to the job and that she was more my mistress than a wife."

  "Thank you, sir," the waiter declared, then quickly removed himself.

  "I hear men treat their mistresses better than their wives," Lila told him.

  Something in her voice said more than her words. About to rise, he watched her closely, searching for a sign to confirm what he was thinking.

  "You knew that Ben played around?"

  She'd always known. Ben hadn't been that good at hiding things. Lila ran the tip of her tongue along her lips. She might have known that Brian had caught on. Nothing got by him.

  "By the way you phrased that," she said, keeping her voice even, "I take it that you knew about his 'extracurricular' activities, too."

  Brian didn't want to answer that, didn't want to say that he'd known and yet had never tried to warn her or give her a heads-up. He especially didn't want her to know that he'd leaned on Ben, telling the man to clean up his act or he would definitely clean it up for him. He wanted to spare her that. More than likely, Lila would tell him that it was no business of his.

  So instead of answering her directly, he merely said, "You deserved better, Lila."

  The corners of her mouth twitched in a half smile. The same thought had crossed her mind more than once. At other times, she felt obliged to stick it out—until she felt she couldn't take it anymore and that to stay would be the wrong thing to do. "Can't always get what you'd like."

  Brian knew that for a fact. "Can't argue with that," he agreed as he rose to his feet and then held her chair for her as she did the same.

  * * * * *

  Lila turned from her front door, taking the key out of the lock and dropping it back into her purse. Butterflies took off in formation as she asked, "Would you like to come in for some coffee?"