Cavanaugh Heat Page 9

  "But they're on the force," Jared protested. It seemed only logical that she would have said something to them first.

  "Those are her wishes. Until she changes her mind, no one else finds out—least of all Zack, Taylor, Riley or Frank."

  "Okay." He had no problems with following orders. "But just so you know, 'kids' don't take kindly to their parents keeping things from them."

  Brian laughed. Jared had no idea how protective parents could be, what lengths they were willing to go to in order to keep something harmful from reaching their children. "Just wait, your turn'll come."

  Jared wasn't altogether sure if that was a theme and variation on "wait until you have children of your own" but the words stopped him dead. About to leave, he crossed back to his father's desk.

  "How do you know that?"

  He'd meant it as a general, throwaway line but the expression on Jared's face told him he'd managed to accidentally stumble onto something. What, he had no idea. So he did what he used to do with felons who wouldn't volunteer information. He bluffed.

  "Did you really think you could keep it from me?" he asked incredulously. "I'm the chief of detectives, Jared, I know everything."

  The thunder stolen from him, Jared set the folder back on the desk and crossed his arms before him. "Okay, smart guy, what's it going to be?" he challenged.

  Stuck, Brian considered admitting his bluff, then decided to stretch it out a little more. He had nothing to lose. "You're going to have to be a little more specific in your question."

  "Don't get cagey, old man. The baby," Jared enunciated. "What's it going to be?"

  In the face of monumental news, the bluff was abandoned. "Baby?" Brian echoed in suppressed excitement. "What baby? Maren's pregnant?"

  He'd been had, Jared thought. "Damn, you suckered me in, didn't you, old man?"

  Brian laughed out loud, not at the expression on Jared's face but at the prospect of yet another Cava-naugh coming into the world.

  "It's a father's job." He clapped his son on the back. "A baby." A broad grin split his face. "How soon?"

  Jared thought of the expression on Maren's face as he left her this morning. "Not soon enough for Maren, she's sick to her stomach."

  "Which is as flat as a board," Brian recalled. "I just saw her a week ago. Are you sure she'd going to have a baby?"

  Because it meant so much to her, Maren had gone through five pregnancy tests—all with the same results—before she'd finally had the courage to go to her doctor. Jared nodded in answer to his father's question. "She's three months along and it's a secret."

  Summer was coming. His daughter-in-law wasn't going to be able to hide behind layers of clothing. "Not for much longer."

  He knew that, but for now, he was playing along. "I'm humoring her. She's the one throwing up, not me—as she reminds me most mornings."

  Thrilled, Brian impulsively threw his arms around his son and hugged him. There was never a shortage of displays of emotion amid the Cavanaughs, especially when there was good news. "Welcome to the harried father's club."

  "You were never a harried father," Jared told him once he was released.

  A lot he knew, Brian thought. "I hid it well. When can I know? Officially, I mean," he added. He didn't know how long he could contain himself. Or keep from calling Andrew.

  "I'll ask her," Jared promised, picking up the file again. "Meanwhile—" he nodded toward it"—I'll get on this."

  Brian thought of Lila, of what she'd gone through and was still going through. He felt a little guilty over being so happy. "I appreciate that."

  At the door, Jared began to pull it closed behind him. "See you, 'Grandpa,'" was his parting shot.

  Brian had always thought he'd hate the sound of that when the name was finally applied to him. But he didn't. He liked it.

  Liked it a lot. And he couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

  * * * * *

  Lila frowned to herself. Brian was due over any minute and she still hadn't found it, much less gotten it out of the way. She knew she'd put the folder that contained all the unpaid bills right there on the small desk next to the kitchen counter. That's where it always was.

  Except for now.

  She was supposed to write out checks before Brian came by. Every week she'd toss the incoming bills into the folder and every Friday she'd sit down to sort through them and pay whatever was due.

  But the folder was nowhere to be seen. She'd already spent the past thirty minutes looking, trying to recall the last time she'd seen it. There were so many things she did by rote that remembering was next to impossible at times.

  She sighed, trying her best to work backward in her mind.

  The folder wasn't the first thing that had developed legs of its own. A couple of days ago, the book she was currently reading had turned up in Riley's old room. When she'd asked Riley if she liked the book, Riley had no idea what she was talking about. And no recollection of even having touched the book, much less bringing it into her daughter's old room.

  Lila was beginning to wonder if life was getting to her. The phone calls had stopped coming right after Brian had a tap put on her phone. But not the feeling of intrusion. Her favorite sweater disappeared right after that. And the glasses she'd washed and put away were back in the sink when she'd come home yesterday.

  She was really starting to doubt herself.

  Maybe she needed a change, to get away from everything for a while. Or permanently. She'd once had plans to sell this house and move into something smaller when the last of the children moved out. She remembered that Ben had been all for it. But that was just before he was shot and everything changed.

  In all honesty, after everything that had happened, she couldn't see herself living anywhere else. Couldn't see herself giving up all the memories woven into the framework of every room. That was why she'd turned down the one offer she'd had.

  Still, she didn't like the uneasiness, the feeling that there was something, a presence here, hovering about when she walked in at night. Having Brian around helped, but it didn't entirely dispel the feeling.

  The doorbell rang and she flew to it, stopping only to glance through the peephole before she opened it.

  "Hi," she murmured, stretching up on her toes to brush her lips against his.

  Picking up where he'd left off years ago, Brian was immediately in tune with her. One look at her face told him something was wrong.

  "What's the matter?" He wanted to know.

  She shook her head. "Nothing, I just misplaced something." She walked back into the kitchen as she answered.

  "Happens to me sometimes. It's not because you're getting old." He second-guessed what was running through her head. "You've got a lot on your mind." Taking her by the shoulders, he directed her to the table. "You sit down, I'll make you something for dinner."

  She had to stop depending on him, letting him do things for her. "That's my job."

  "Not tonight." Crossing to the refrigerator, he opened it to see what he had to work with. Andrew had rubbed off on him over the years and he'd gotten pretty good at whipping things up out of leftovers.

  Staring inside, he paused for a second, then called to her over his shoulder. "Lila?"

  "Yes?"

  "Are bills easier to face when they're chilled?"

  She had absolutely no idea what Brian was talking about. Rising from the table, she walked up behind him. "What?"

  Turning, Brian held up a folder. The folder. The one she'd spent so much time looking for. "This was in the refrigerator," he volunteered. "Next to the milk."

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  « ^ »

  Lila stared at the folder Brian was holding as if it was some sort of a foreign object. "I didn't put it there," she protested, taking it from him.

  How the hell had it gotten into the refrigerator?

  "Maybe it hopped in by itself," Brian suggested whimsically. "Death by frostbite?"

  "It's not funny, Brian,"
she insisted. "I don't know how it got there. Am I losing my mind?"

  The look of distress in her eyes got to him. Brian searched for a way to comfort her. "Honey, we do so many things without thinking—"

  At any other time, the term of endearment, used for the first time, would have been savored and cherished. But right now, she was too upset to focus on anything but the cool folder she held in her hand.

  "I don't put folders into the refrigerator," she said tersely, struggling not to lose her temper. Things were spinning out of control, beyond her reach and she didn't know how to fix it.

  "Let me finish," he told her, his tone patient. "We do so much that sometimes we get things confused. Put a spoon in the medicine cabinet, a folder in the refrigerator. You've had a lot on your mind lately, one of which," he injected a sidebar, trying to get her to rise above her concerns, "I'd like to think is me—"

  Lila cut him off, shaking her head. "I did not put the folder in the refrigerator. I haven't even opened the refrigerator since I came home and this damn folder was on the desk in the back room when I left for work this morning."

  Brian looked at her for a long moment, trying to get her to center her thoughts. "You're sure?"

  "Of course I'm sure. It's always there." The words rushed out of her mouth. If she said them fast enough, she could outdistance the doubts that crowded her mind. But she failed. "No, I'm not sure." Defeated, she sank down on a kitchen chair facing the refrigerator. She bumped the table with her hip. "I'm just so used to seeing it there, I just assumed..."

  He nodded. "Could one of your kids have come in and accidentally—"

  Her head jerked up. "And accidentally what? Put the folder into the refrigerator? Why would they? They don't have anything to do with my bills and they don't come over unless I'm here. If they want to see me, they usually stop by the office at the precinct and we get caught up there." She looked accusingly at the folder she'd tossed on the kitchen table. "It just doesn't make any sense."

  Moving behind her, Brian dropped his hands on her shoulders. Silently he let her know that he was here for her. That, like old times, he had her back no matter what.

  "Don't waste time making too much of this," he advised. "These things happen."

  Without thinking, she placed her hand over his, taking comfort from the contact. "They've been happening too often."

  Brian dropped his hands and came around to face her. "Back up. What are you saying?"

  She hadn't told him before. She supposed part of her kept hoping she was being absentminded. But now she thought someone was coming in while she was gone. But why? To what end? Things were moved around but nothing had been taken.

  Lila regretted saying anything, but it was too late to take back the words. So she told him. "That things are out of place a lot lately."

  Interest flared in his gray eyes but his expression remained the same. "Such as?"

  "Such as the glasses that I made a special point of washing and putting away before I left for work were back in the sink when I came home again." She watched his face, wondering if he thought she was going crazy. But if he was entertaining the thought, there was no indication on his face. "Such as the book that I had on my nightstand because I was reading a few pages every night turning up in Riley's room. Riley hadn't even been over that week," she added before he could ask. She frowned as she told him the latest occurrence prior to the wayward folder. "Such as my favorite sweater disappearing out of my closet and turning up in the pantry."

  That sounded like an awful lot of coincidences, Brian thought, but it still might be possible. "There's usually a simple explanation for these things."

  "Right." Frustrated, she blew out a breath as she ran her hand through her hair. "The early onset of dementia."

  Brian's voice was serious as he said, "Discounting that for a second, have you asked your kids if they've inadvertently moved some of your things around?" Their days ran together, maybe she just hadn't noticed something was misplaced until she needed it—like the folder.

  "I asked Riley about the book and Taylor if she borrowed my sweater." Lila paused, banking down the wave of anxiety that emerged out of nowhere. What if she was the one who was responsible for moving things around? Was it just a matter of stress, the way Brian suggested, or something more? She really didn't like going there. "I didn't say anything else because—"

  "Yes, I know. You didn't want them worrying," he finished the sentence for her. It was getting a little old at this point. The younger Mclntyres ranged from twenty-three to twenty-six and didn't need to be coddled. If he knew them, they'd be insulted by the mere suggestion that their mother thought they needed to be sheltered.

  "No," Lila countered sharply, annoyed that he was second-guessing her, "because I didn't want them thinking their mother was losing her grip on reality."

  He had another suggestion for her. "Could someone else be doing it?"

  She'd been trying to understand why someone would break in and not take anything. That they would break in to play mind games was even more mystifying.

  "You mean, gas-lighting me like in that old movie where the husband tries to make the wife think she's going crazy?" Brian nodded. "Who?" It was a logical question. She didn't know anyone who would want to do that to her.

  "If we had the answer to that, we'd have the answer to 'why,' as well," Brian pointed out. Since she seemed to be of sound mind and she was sure none of her kids was playing musical possessions, then his theory held water. "For now, just assume that someone's been coming in while you're at work and moving things around. Maybe you should think about having a security system put in."

  That was for people who owned things of value. She had nothing worth taking. Her most precious objects were only that because of sentimental value.

  "I have a security system," Lila answered, nodding at the dog lying across the kitchen threshold like a furry obstacle course.

  Brian glanced at the sleeping dog. "Obviously it's not working." He didn't like the idea of her being here alone at night and he couldn't always come over. "Look, why don't you come and stay at my place for a while?" Anticipating her protest, he was quick to add, "Both of you."

  "And have whoever's trying to pull this off think that they won? That they've succeeded in chasing me out of my own home?" She tossed her head indignantly. "Hell, no."

  Brian shook his head, pushing a lock of hair from her face. "Not that I don't find your spirit incredibly sexy, but maybe for once you should listen to my advice."

  He made it sound like she made a point of always going against him. "I listen to your advice," Lila countered.

  Her memory seemed a bit faulty, he thought. "Right, when you agree with it."

  Lila grinned, seeing no contradiction. "That's still listening."

  He refused to be drawn into her smile, into her eyes. They had a serious problem on their hands.

  "Like you said, this isn't funny. For whatever reason, someone's targeted you." He hated even saying it, much less believing it to be true. "Do you have any idea why?"

  "Not a one." Lila feathered her fingertips along the furrow that had formed just above his eyes, gently smoothing it out. "Look, now that you found my folder and I can pay my bills, why don't we have that dinner you promised me?" Her smile turned wicked. "And then we can go on to dessert."

  Removing her hand, he held it for a moment as he said, "Using sex to distract me doesn't change the problem, Lila."

  She was on her toes, her lips lightly grazing the side of his neck. She felt a pulse jump just beneath them. "I know."

  Brian felt her breath along his skin. Felt himself responding with such speed and intensity, he could have easily been in his adolescence again, instead of revisiting it. Damn but she did things to his head, scrambled his brain and made him one huge, pulsating mass of desire.

  "I take it.. .you've decided...to skip.. .dinner."

  "Dessert was always my favorite part," she breathed, winding her arms around his neck and raising her m
outh up to his. Her body supple and pliant against his. His for the taking.

  "Mine, too," he told her just before he pulled her to him and kissed her.

  * * * * *

  It only got better, Lila thought. Better and more intense. But how could you possibly improve on perfection, she wondered.

  The first time they'd made love, it was exquisite, everything she'd ever dreamed of. And yet, it just kept getting better. Making love with him, the anticipation of making love with him, made her feel as if she could bend steel with her bare hands and leap tall buildings in a single bound.

  Even in the midst of a dire situation, she clung to the promise of their next coming together, their next coupling. She lived for it.

  She found that Brian didn't hurry even though he knew the path and even though he knew the exquisite ecstasy waiting for him at journey's end. He took his time, exploring every nuance all over again, as if he knew that no matter how many times he made love with her, there was always something new to discover, something new to experience.

  For her the sameness never registered, because it wasn't the same. The thrill, the surprise, the wild explosions and ever-changing, mind-boggling profusion of colors, was there, waiting to engulf her.

  If there was regret, it was because she'd allowed so much time to go by without making her feelings for him known. But then, until just recently, there'd been obstacles in the way. When they'd been together originally, he'd had a wife and four children and she'd had a husband and four children of her own.

  Life, for her and for him, had been a tightrope walk. She knew that there was no telling what Ben would have done if she'd ever given in to her desire and made love with Brian. At the very least, Ben would have dragged her into court, loudly declared her an unfit mother and taken her children away from her. The "very most" had a finality about it that would have made her blood run cold if she spent any time thinking about it. Ben was not a man to be crossed.

  But it was very hard to think right now, when her blood was so heated.

  Brian took her on the kitchen table, pushing things aside and sending them flying down to the tiled floor. As she heard the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers clink and thump, despite the energy vibrating between them, she couldn't resist grinning at him. "Good thing nothing's made of glass."