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  Dax held up his hand, laughing. "No, after four kids Mom told Dad that if he wanted any more, he was going to find a way to push them out himself because she wasn't going to have to go through morning sickness again."

  Morning sickness.

  God, could she certainly identify with that, Brenda thought. But at least his mother had had his father to lean on. Someone who was there, who wanted to have children with her. She and Wade had never really discussed having children, something else he kept putting off talking about. She'd discovered that she was pregnant and that Wade had been accidentally killed during maneuvers all in the same day.

  Getting pregnant had been an accident as well. She and Wade had been separated for almost four months when he'd come to her, asking her if she'd be willing to try to make a go of their marriage again. She'd felt so guilty over marrying him in the first place just to get away from home that she felt she owed it to him. So she had said yes.

  Wade put in for a three-day pass and they went down to San Diego. They'd stayed at a little bed and breakfast inn just off the beach. She could hear the seagulls calling to one another.

  The long weekend had gone by without anything being resolved. Wade went back to his world and she to hers, their future still up in the air.

  She'd been sick almost from the start, but had been afraid to take a pregnancy test, afraid to put her suspicions into words. She fervently prayed that if she ignored it, somehow, it would all go away.

  But it hadn't, and there was life growing inside of her now. A life that she vowed to love and protect the way she had never been herself. The way she hadn't for Annie.

  She looked at Dax. "Then where did the eleven come from?"

  "Cousins as well as siblings."

  He took it for granted that everyone knew. It was such a way of life, such a given for him that at times he forgot that not everyone was aware of the fact that he had cousins and brothers who liberally populated various departments within the Aurora police force. That his Uncle Andrew had once been the police chief of the city before he retired and that his father, Brian, was now the current chief of detectives.

  He grinned. "I've got tons of cousins."

  Cousins. A big family, all there for one another if she was interpreting his expression correctly. "And you're all close."

  He heard the wistful note in her voice. "Sometimes too close," he told her. "There's always someone looking over your shoulder."

  "Always someone looking out for you," she countered. When he didn't try to correct her, she knew she was right. What would that have been like, to have someone to turn to when things got tough? "You have no idea how lucky you are."

  His grin widened. "If I forget, there's always someone around to tell me." When he was a kid, he saw a downside to that. "And I never got to get away with anything. There was always someone who saw or found out about it and word would always get back to my parents."

  She heard the affection in his voice. She would have given anything to have had his life. "You're close to them, too? Your parents?"

  He thought of his father. Other than a few years of typical teenager rebellion, he'd always been able to talk to the man. Like the old joke went, the older he got, the smarter his father became.

  "Yeah, I guess. To my dad. My mom died a little over five years ago."

  "Oh, I'm sorry. But at least you had her for a long time."

  There was something in her tone that told him they had this in common. "When did your mother die?"

  Brenda looked up at him, debating changing the subject. But he had allowed her a peek into his life; it seemed rude somehow to abruptly terminate the conversation. Besides, it had all happened such a long time ago. She was beyond hurting now, she told herself. Or so she liked to believe. "She didn't. She left."

  Things began to fall into place. That was why Brenda was so passionate about Rebecca Allen-Tyler's lack of maternal love. Because she identified with the kidnapped little girl.

  He thought of his Uncle Andrew. Aunt Rose had walked out after an argument and had gone missing for fifteen years. In her case, there'd been an accident with the car and they had all thought she was dead. Everyone except for his uncle. And, as it turned out, everyone except for his uncle had been wrong. Aunt Rose had been a victim of amnesia.

  "Just like that?" he prodded.

  She reflected. "No, not just like that. It was probably a long time in coming. My father wasn't exactly the easiest man to live with. She finally couldn't take it anymore. Neither could I, but I was too young to pack up and go." She saw the question in his eyes. "I was nine at the time."

  "A lot of kids run away at nine. Younger." He'd seen the files to prove it.

  He had a point, she supposed. There were times when she sat in the dark in her room after a particularly bad confrontation with her father, sobbing. Wanting desperately to find a way out of her life. But there had been no one to turn to.

  She gathered the flyers together, placing them on top of the others.

  "Maybe I thought things out too much. I didn't like the idea of living on the street. Besides, I kept hoping that one day my father would wake up and have an epiphany—" It all seemed so silly now. She should have known better, even then. "That he'd realize that I was one hell of a little girl and that he should appreciate all that love I had to give him."

  Dax felt something protective stir within him, even though the events had taken place in the past and there was nothing he could do about them now. It still didn't change the fact that he wanted to hold her to him, to comfort her. "But he didn't."

  She blew out a breath. "No, he didn't." She turned and looked at him. How had all that come out? She'd shared more with him in this short space of time than she ever could with Wade. "So, how much do you charge by the hour, doctor?"

  He smiled and shook his head. "The first hundred hours are free. Call it my cousin-training."

  "They all come to you with their problems?" He didn't strike her as the counseling type. Yet here she was, running off at the mouth around him, she reminded herself.

  Dax felt he had no particular claim to that position. "We all come to each other whenever the occasion calls for it. I guess it's a little like having your own support group," he decided.

  He'd never really thought of it that way before, but it was true. None of them had ever felt alone, not even his cousin Patrick, he guessed, and Patrick was the one who along with his sister, Patience, had had a troubled childhood. Uncle Mike, he'd discovered after piecing things together he'd overheard and had been told by his cousin Shaw, had been the insecure brother. Sandwiched in between Andrew and Brian, Mike always felt as if they outshone him with their achievements. Early on it had frustrated him and he'd taken it out on his family, drinking too much, being verbally abusive, finding solace with other women.

  Dax knew that both his father and his Uncle Andrew, especially his uncle, had tried very hard to smooth things over for Patrick and Patience, to give them as secure a feeling of home and hearth as they could. Patience was the optimistic one, she was easy. But Patrick had presented a challenge when he was growing up.

  Things had eventually turned out all right and now Patrick was married and expecting his first little Cavanaugh.

  Yes, Dax thought, he was lucky. They all were. A simple roll of the dice and fate could have given him the life of the woman next to him.

  And yet, Brenda seemed unscathed by it. Sharp, dedicated and passionate.

  It was the passion that was arousing him now, he realized. Passion in anyone always made them appear more alive, more vivid. In a woman as beautiful as Brenda York, it was especially alluring.

  He rose to join her. "So, is there anyone special in your life right now?"

  Brenda nodded. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he'd lost something. But that was ridiculous, he told himself, because he hadn't had anything to begin with.

  "A classroom full of special someones," she told him.

  Somewhere deep i
nside of him, a ray of hope nudged its way forward. "You're talking about the kids in your class."

  She smiled and for the first time, he saw a light enter her eyes. The sexual pull he felt was almost overwhelming.

  "Yes."

  "I was talking about someone taller." Initially, when he'd come to the school, she and Harwood had seemed rather tight. "The headmaster—"

  Her eyes widened at the suggestion. "Matthew? No. Oh God, no. He's just a very kind man."

  He'd picked up something in the headmaster's manner toward her. It had made him wonder if they'd had a prior or present relationship. "Looked as if he'd like to be kinder if you let him."

  Was it that evident? She felt protective of the man who had given her a job when others wouldn't. She'd been more than a few credits short of her teaching credentials when she'd come to Harwood Academy. He'd allowed her to teach while working on her degree.

  "Maybe, but I don't have that kind of relationship with him. That would be mixing business with my private life."

  "And you like the lines to stay clear." It wasn't a guess. He could tell by the way she spoke.

  "It keeps things simpler."

  What he was feeling right now wasn't simple. It was very, very complicated. Although he liked women in all sizes and shapes and had a social life that would have contented any two normal men, he'd always been careful not to step over a line, not to mix his professional and private life.

  But right now, he was entertaining thoughts that definitely crossed all the lines.

  "It's getting late." He nodded toward the printer. It had stopped humming several minutes ago. "Have you finished doing what you came to do?"

  By her count, she'd printed up a thousand flyers. She took two boxes that the initial paper had been packaged in and deposited the eight-by-ten-inch sheets into them. It was a start. "Yes, for now."

  "Good." Stacking one box on top of another, Dax picked them both up. "I'll walk you to your car," he told her.

  The entire time he'd spent with her at the school, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was keeping him from something. Maybe he'd driven up here for a reason other than the one he'd given her.

  "You don't have to."

  He was already standing in the doorway, waiting for her to join him. "I don't have anything pressing to do at the moment."

  Closing down the computer and switching off the printer, she picked up her purse and then joined him. "You're just afraid I'm going to stay here."

  "Maybe," he allowed.

  Waiting for her to cross the threshold, he shut the light off.

  The night was warm and musky, one of those spring evenings that acted as a preview to the summer that was barely waiting in the wings. The dusk that had been there when she arrived had given way to a velvety night.

  The full moon shone on the lot, casting a pool of light on the asphalt. It illuminated their way far better than the two street lamps located at the far end of the sidewalk.

  Like two strangers seeking company, his car was parked beside hers. Dax watched her open the passenger door. She indicated that he should place the two boxes of flyers on the seat.

  He set them down on the passenger seat. "You didn't lock the door," he admonished.

  "I forgot." She didn't tell him that she often left it unlocked. It was easier that way. And maybe she was too trusting for her own good. "It's an old car, I didn't think anyone would think it worth stealing."

  Brenda closed the door, then walked around to the driver's side. She turned to face him. She could feel the heat from his body even though he gave her a little space. Her hormones, she thought, were giving her a hard time. The warm night didn't help things either.

  She raised the hair from the back of her neck, wishing for a breeze. Her silent entreaty went unanswered. "Well, thank you for not busting me."

  Busy memorizing the gentle slope of her neck, he didn't follow her meaning. "For what?"

  "For disregarding the yellow tape and going into the school."

  He grinned, vainly trying to summon up cold thoughts. "Don't make a habit of it."

  "I won't, I promise." Opening the driver's side door, she hesitated.

  "What?"

  Brenda bit her lip, then forged ahead. "The kidnapper said he'd call tomorrow. I should be there to talk to him."

  He knew what she was thinking. That since she'd pretended to be the housekeeper, she should be there just in case. But that had been just because neither of the Tylers had been there to take the call. That had since changed.

  "Mrs. Tyler is probably going to want to handle that," he pointed out.

  He was right, of course, but she still wanted to be there, even though she knew she wasn't exactly welcome. The thought of being excluded, of being on the outside and not knowing what was happening, was painful to her. "Right. I just—"

  "Want to be there," he supplied. It wasn't difficult to guess what was on her mind.

  "Yes."

  He looked at the boxes of flyers on the seat. "You could always bring those by tomorrow. That'll get your foot in the door."

  She could see Mrs. Tyler taking them from her then closing the door on her face. "But what do I do after that?"

  "Maybe we'll get lucky and the kidnapper'll call while you're there."

  "And if he doesn't?"

  He glanced down at her foot, then smiled. "I'll see what I can do to keep the rest of you in after that."

  Gratitude shone in her eyes. The pull he'd been battling against increased, doubling. "Thank you."

  "My pleasure."

  And then, before he knew what he was doing, before he had a chance to tell himself not to, before he could blame it on the warm night and hours that were too long to allow him to think clearly, Dax framed her incredibly beautiful face in his hands.

  Her eyes met his.

  His resolve, what there was left of it, slipped away into the night.

  He brought his mouth down to hers.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

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  He'd caught her by surprise.

  But surprise faded quickly. In its place came the realization that she'd actually been anticipating this all along. On some plane, she'd known this was going to happen, been waiting for it to happen. In a way, she'd been holding her breath until it did.

  In the space of a very quick heartbeat, Brenda wound her arms around his neck and leaned her body into his, losing herself in the taste of his lips, in the heat of his kiss.

  Feeling so desperately alone these days, weighed down by the secret she was harboring, she needed this warmth, this human contact, if only for a moment. She found it comforting—and wildly exhilarating.

  Every part of her body was wide awake, alert, and quickly absorbing the sensations that were traveling through her body with the speed of lightning bolts.

  Her eyes closed, her head spinning, Brenda moaned as the kiss deepened, pulling her in by virtue of its sheer power.

  The sound of her moan echoed in his head, fueling the desire that had suddenly broken free of its shackles. He'd surprised himself by stepping outside the lines and giving in to the ever-increasing demand he'd felt drumming through his body. Dax was surprised too by the power with which his action had been met. He hadn't known what to expect, either from her response or from her. She could have slapped him, but she didn't. Could have been impassive, but she wasn't.

  And she hadn't just surrendered, she'd advanced an offensive of her own and left him utterly caught up in what was happening. Turning him into a prisoner as well as an instigator.

  She felt warm and supple against him, her curves yielding, making him want what he couldn't have. What the hell was going on here? What was he doing? his mind demanded sharply.

  Stepping back while he still had the wherewithal, Dax looked at the woman who was now in his arms. His mind scrambled erratically in different directions, searching for a way to form an apology.

  Words felt like cardboard in his mouth. He released her,
taking a step back so their bodies were no longer touching.

  A warm evening breeze moved within the space that was created.

  "I'm sorry. I must be overtired—"

  Brenda smiled and shook her head. There was no need for him to apologize. She'd needed that. Needed to feel, for one precious moment that she was attractive to another human being.

  She knew this wasn't going anywhere. It couldn't for so many reasons. "You don't kiss like someone who's overtired."

  She didn't look angry. Hell, she didn't even look surprised. Had she sensed it was coming? With effort, he pulled his thoughts together. Since she wasn't offended, it was best to hurry away from the incident as quickly as possible.

  Dax nodded toward her car. "You'll be all right getting home?"

  He was retreating, she thought. She supposed that was a good thing, but there was a small part of her that had wanted the kiss to go on. To strip her of every thought until all that was left was a raw need to find fulfillment in lovemaking.

  God, but she was tired. Brenda tried not to laugh at herself.

  "You dazed me, Detective Cavanaugh, but you didn't daze me that much." She flashed a smile at him. "I'll be fine," she assured him.

  As she began to drive away, her eyes on her rearview mirror and the man who watched her retreat into the night, she wasn't one hundred percent sure of herself. She felt shaky inside, as if every single one of her molecules had been taken apart and then put back together again. Quickly and maybe not so precisely.

  Brenda took a deep breath. Maybe it was her current emotional state that was doing this to her. The emotional state that felt in complete upheaval not just because of the kidnapping, but because she was pregnant and her hormones were just now beginning to stop playing ping-pong all over her psyche.

  Hands tightly gripping the wheel, she stared straight ahead. She made every single light and found herself pulling up into her allotted parking space less than twenty minutes later, her head crowded with thoughts, with memories.