By the time Gina ventured out of the bedroom with the baby the next morning, a rocking chair had appeared in the living room, placed where she could rock Joey and enjoy the majestic view of snow-covered trees and the Sierra Nevada mountains. She ran her hand along the intricately carved wood back. Someone had put their heart and soul into creating the fine piece of furniture.
“Good morning.” Rosie bustled into the room, a dish towel thrown over her shoulder. The flyaway red hair she’d tamed into a ponytail yesterday made a kinky frame for her freckled face.
“Do I have you to thank for the rocking chair?” Gina asked, sitting gingerly.
“That would be the chief. I brought the cushion, though. A doughnut. You’ll thank me.” Her expression reflected sympathy in response to Gina’s wince. “It’ll get better eventually.”
“They’re going to carve those words into your tombstone.”
“When you’ve got four teenagers, it becomes your mantra.”
Gina studied her one-day-old son, who was fed and dry but awake. She knew he couldn’t see clearly yet, but he seemed to focus on her when she talked, a little frown of concentration on his face. “I’m glad I’ve got a long time to wait.”
“Sixteen years from now you’ll be wondering where the time went. Well, what’s first on your wish list—breakfast or a shower?”
“Oh! I would love a shower. I didn’t realize that giving birth was so…so—”
“The technical term is ‘yucky.’ Wait’ll your milk comes in.”
Gina accepted Rosie’s help to stand, then they headed toward the bathroom. “You must be curious about me. My situation.”
“Honey, there’s something you need to know about Lost and Found. Like all small towns, everyone knows everyone’s business now, but not from before they got here. A lot of people come to start over. We don’t ask questions. Some people stay. Some decide it’s time to move on.”
“Really? You have no past?”
“Not unless you want one. No one’ll ask.”
But the rule wouldn’t apply to her, Gina realized. J.T. had a right to ask questions, a right to the truth. “Can I ask where J.T. is?”
“Doing his rounds. He makes a sweep through town a couple times a day, drives up and down every road, checks out every property.” Rosie picked up the bassinet and carried it into the bathroom. “He’s been a good chief. The best we’ve had. Everybody respects him, even the ones he’s arrested. He’s got a way about him.”
Pride warmed Gina, even though his being a good chief had nothing to do with her. “I’m surprised he hasn’t married.”
Rosie gestured for Gina to put the baby in the bassinet, then she opened the shower door and turned on the water, testing it with her hand, adjusting the temperature. Apparently satisfied, she shut the door, trapping the steam. “Now, see, Gina, that would be considered asking a question, even though there’s no question mark at the end of the sentence.”
“I only meant that he’s a good catch.”
“Plenty of folks would agree with you.”
“Plenty of women folk?”
“Men don’t generally concern themselves with that particular issue.”
“Darn it, Rosie. I’m asking if he has a girlfriend.”
Rosie pursed her lips, which Gina thought could mean that she didn’t like the woman, or that she was hesitant about answering.
“I don’t rightly know if you can call her that,” Rosie said finally. “But there’s someone he sees.”
A somersault of jealousy spiraled slowly into disappointment. So, the whisper of a kiss last night meant nothing. The caring, the concern, the tender treatment? Human decency. Obligation.
I thought you hated me, he’d said, with good reason. Yet it hadn’t stopped him from being kind and generous to her. She wasn’t even sure herself what she wanted from him, but the possibilities just got a lot more limited.
She stepped into the shower a minute later, grateful for the knowledge Rosie had armed her with, and blaming the ache inside on postpartum blues.
Above the noise of a hair dryer, J.T. heard female laughter, an unfamiliar sound in his quiet house. Deputy cocked his head at J.T., as if to say, “Somebody’s having fun!”
“You like having company, don’t you, boy?”
The dog barked once, his tail swinging hard enough to jerk his rear end from side to side. J.T. didn’t for a minute believe Deputy was waiting for permission to join the women—well trained were not words anyone ever associated with the mutt—but he told the dog to go on, anyway.
J.T. lingered in the living room, wanting to be part of the fun, too, but knowing that the laughter would probably stop when Gina realized he was home.
He set the rocking chair in motion. Hell, he knew he was too serious, too literal. Enough people had told him so, but he figured it was part of what made him a good cop. What was wrong with that? When had steady and reliable become interchangeable with boring?
He blew out a breath. Other people’s opinions weren’t the issue at the moment. What ate at him now was the ten minutes he’d spent with Brynne Mc-Masters, a happy-to-be-single woman who, until now, had satisfied his occasional need for female companionship without complicating his life. He admired Brynne, a defiantly independent woman in her late twenties, with a rich laugh and a physical need that matched his, but her past was a closed subject, her source of income not apparent. Every once in a while they shared a steak, a bottle of chardonnay, some conversation and a tumble in bed.
She never asked for more.
He didn’t have more to give.
Her house was the last stop on his rounds. Her A-frame cabin was situated about as far from town as she could get, tucked into a small forest. He’d surprised her today by asking to come in, startled her when he’d backed her against a wall as if he was going to take her there and then.
“I don’t substitute,” she’d said, her gaze direct.
Well, how damn low could he stoop, anyway? He stepped away from her. “I apologize. You didn’t deserve that. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Some woman who’s turned your civilized life upside down, I would guess. This isn’t like you.” She eyed him speculatively. “Or maybe it is, J.T. Did you think of that?”
He shoved his hands through his hair. “Hell, Brynne, she’s too young for me.”
“How young?”
“Twenty-two. I’ll be thirty-five in a month. Not to mention, she gave birth to another man’s child yesterday.”
“That would seem to complicate matters.”
The understatement had calmed him. He realized that if he had something to say, it should be to Gina. Problem was, he didn’t know what.
He’d left Brynne on friendly terms. They both knew that the relationship was over, no matter what happened with Gina. They’d stepped into personal territory; too much would change because of that.
“Hey, J.T.,” Rosie said, coming into the living room. “I’m gonna fix mama some breakfast. Have you eaten?”
“You don’t need to wait on me.”
“I don’t mind. You can keep Gina company while I’m fixing it. She just took a shower, and the poor thing’s tuckered out. Needs to sit a spell.”
Gina came through the doorway and headed to the rocking chair, her steps a slow shuffle. “Good morning.”
“How’re you feeling?” Judging by how carefully she sat, he could guess her answer.
“Rosie helped me shower. I can’t remember one feeling so good before.” She stroked the chair arms, curved her fingers over the polished ends. “This is a beautiful rocker.”
Even her voice shook with exhaustion. J.T. made himself relax. Picking up an ottoman, he set it near her chair to sit on. “I borrowed it from Bear Ramierez. He makes furniture.”
“He makes art,” she said, patting the arms. J.T. smiled. “I’ll tell him you said so.” He glanced toward the bedrooms. “Baby asleep?”
She nodded, her hair falling softly over her shoulders, a thick, shiny curl resting on each breast. She still had a tummy, and her eyes broadcast the toll of giving birth, but she looked beautiful. Not ethereal, but all too earthbound and real, if a little pale.
“Max said he’ll stop by later. I’m supposed to call and tell him when you think you’ll be napping.”
“As soon as I’ve eaten. I know you have questions for me, too. I promise we’ll talk tonight.” She seemed to doze then.
The baby let out a wobbly cry. Deputy charged into the room and whined, like the town crier.
“I’ll get him for you,” J.T. said, seeing her exhaustion. “Before I do, though, I need to ask you one question.”
Her eyes clouded. “Okay.”
“Why did you leave home in such a hurry? Is there someone on your trail?”
She looked away from him. For a few long moments she stared out the window. “The snow’s melting.”
He waited. Joey’s cries became more insistent. Deputy barked, then ran out of the room.
“Yes, someone’s on my trail,” she said finally. “Winnie Banning. My mother-in-law.”
Gina welcomed nightfall, not because she would unburden herself to J.T., but because he was different at night, more mellow, more understanding. Or maybe it was because she couldn’t see his face as clearly, couldn’t read anything into his expression. Nighttime softened his edges.
She’d catnapped off and on all day. Max came and went. J.T. had helped clean up the fire-damaged house, made a late-afternoon check of the town, then had come home, quieter than usual. Rosie set dinner on the table, imparted a few final words of wisdom about the value of strategically placed ice packs, and returned to her own family.
The sound of J.T. showering comforted Gina now as she nursed the baby, making her feel that she had a family, a home—something she hungered for.
It wasn’t her home, though. For one thing, at home she wouldn’t have to worry about staying covered up while she nursed. It was hard enough getting the knack of it without fiddling with a blanket, keeping it draped over her. She ended up not able to watch Joey to make sure he was doing okay.
She could ask to have the rocking chair moved into the bedroom, of course, but then she would feel too isolated. She smiled. Apparently, there was just no pleasing her.
At the moment, however, there was no danger of J.T. walking in on her, not as long as she could hear the water running. So she left the extra blanket on her lap and enjoyed watching Joey nurse, his little fists tucked under his chin, pressing into her breast. Such a tiny thing, with such great power over her already.
“We’re heart tied, sweetheart,” she said softly. He drew a gulping little breath, and had to root for the nipple again. She guided him until he latched on, then she smiled at how much energy he gave to his task. “Do you know how long I waited for you? How long I’ve loved you? We’re going to have a good life, you and me. A good life. What a gift you are, Joey. A miracle.”
Wrapping him in a quilt of unconditional love, she stroked his hair, dark like hers, but silky soft. When he started fussing, she shifted him to the other side, leaving herself exposed to the air, as Rosie recommended.
The shower stopped running. She pictured J.T. drying off, wrapping a towel around his hips and coming to check on them. She saw him crouch in front of them, smile at them, as if they belonged to him. Impossible dreams.
Reality returned a few minutes later when he did come into the room, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. He didn’t even glance their direction—his way of giving her privacy, she supposed—but headed to the fireplace and stirred up the logs, adding one. He stayed crouched in front of the hearth, which gave her time to appreciate his lean, muscular body, the wide shoulders that bore burdens well. She noted, too, the granite jaw that twitched with some emotion she couldn’t identify.
After a while he spoke over his shoulder. “Is that hard, feeding him?”
“I’m a little sore. I think my milk’s about to come in, though. According to Rosie, I’ll need patience. Nursing is a learned skill. But he’s a good little sucker.” She stopped, smiled. “Rosie’s words.”
“Sounds like her. You seem like a natural.”
She decided she had nothing to lose by being honest—and maybe something to gain. “It’d be easier if I didn’t have to keep a blanket over me while you’re here.”
He stood instantly. “All you had to do was say so, Gina. I can go to another room.”
“That’s not my point. I’m staying covered up for your sake, not mine. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“You afraid the sight would turn me on?” He said it as if the idea was ludicrous.
Maybe I’m afraid it wouldn’t. Stunned, she clamped her mouth shut. She had a hard time reconciling the fact she’d delivered a baby yesterday and was feeling some kind of powerful attraction to a man who’d rejected her once before. Rejected her soundly, coldly.
But that was then.
“I’m not worried,” she said at last.
“If you don’t mind, I don’t.”
“Thanks. I mean, it’s not like we’re strangers, right?” Now that she’d been granted the freedom, she didn’t know what to do with it. She couldn’t just whip off the blanket. That’d be like turning a spotlight on herself. Stalling, she took a sip of water from the glass she kept near all the time.
“Changed your mind?” J.T. asked, humor and challenge in his tone.
“Every first time is a little awkward, I guess,” she said, watching him move purposefully toward her. Grateful only one lamp lit the room, she felt her cheeks burn when he peeled back the blanket. What the baby’s head didn’t cover, her nursing bra did, leaving only the slope of her breast visible. Joey suckled rhythmically, his mouth latched on tightly. She was aware of her other breast tingling, the one covered. Her nipple hardened as J.T. ran his hand along her son’s head, cupping it, then raised his gaze to hers.
“What a beautiful picture you make.”
The reverence in his voice turned her insides to mush. He leaned closer. Hope filled her heart. She tipped her head back, and then his lips touched hers, featherlight, a soft promise. He pulled back for a second, framed her face with his hands and returned for more, letting their breaths mingle, warm and enticing. A sound embarrassingly close to a whimper escaped her when he backed away again. She shut off his serious gaze by looking at his mouth, but her lips trembled open, anticipating, telling him what she wanted without saying the words, afraid she would beg.
A different kind of kiss, then. Longer and deeper, made all the more arousing because of his tender restraint. He seemed to be proving a point of some kind—to her or to himself? It had been so long since she’d felt needed, wanted. So long since she’d kissed a man. And this particular man had made her stomach flutter from their first eye contact. She’d chalked it up to strictly physical attraction back then. Could she now?
He broke off the kiss just as the baby’s mouth went slack with sleep. Silence hung thick and heavy. Seeing his gaze drift down her, she squeezed her eyes shut, wondering what he would do next
“That should end any need for modesty,” he said, low and gruff.
She nestled the baby a little closer. “I’ll put him down. Then we can talk.”
He offered his help to stand, then shoved his hands in his pockets at the exact moment she realized he was aroused, flatteringly so.
Every book she’d read assured her she wouldn’t have the slightest interest in sex for weeks, at least, maybe even until long after the doctor gave his okay; that the baby demanded so much attention; that she would be tired. That the constant body contact between mother and child often satisfied the need for physical closeness.
The experts were wrong.
Warmth suffusing her, she met his steady gaze, pleased that he didn’t apologize or offer excuses. But then, he’d always been honest with her, painfully so. It must have killed him not to tell her the truth when he’d found her huddled in front of his office.
“Hurry back,” he said. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Right. He had questions, but she had some of her own. Like, why did you kiss me when you’re supposedly “seeing” someone?
J.T. leaned his palms against the fireplace mantel and listened to Gina sing a lullaby as she put the baby to bed, the sweet, pure sound carrying over the baby monitor sitting on the coffee table. He hoped it worked for the baby, because it sure as hell wasn’t helping him relax.
So much for the theory that giving birth voided sex appeal for a while.
She still had it. In spades.
Even worse, he hadn’t been able to hide his reaction. So, now she knew she had power over him. What would she do with that knowledge? He’d hurt her twice before. Most people would want to even the score.
A flowery scent drifted into the room. She’d put on fresh perfume. For him.
“Deputy has decided to be Joey’s nanny,” she said from behind him. “They’re becoming inseparable.”
He turned around. She’d brushed her hair and changed her blouse. For him.
“He wouldn’t get in the car with me this afternoon,” J.T. told her. “That dog is going to be hard to live with when you leave.”
Her shoulders drooped. Hell. Kiss her, then shove her out the door, why don’t you, Ryker?
“You have questions?” she prompted, suddenly all business. Even the fragrance of her perfume dissipated, leaving only the acrid smell of his own idiocy.
With a gesture he invited her to sit on the sofa, but she chose her rocking chair instead, probably because of the cushion, but maybe for other reasons. He slid the ottoman next to her. “You were born to be a mother,” he said, catching her off guard, forcing her to shift mental gears.
“It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“Because you come from a big family?”
“Maybe in spite of it.” She eyed him keenly. “We don’t have to ease into your questions, Chief. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Chief. Her way of putting him in his place. He reached into his pocket and drew out the condolence card he’d found in her trunk, then handed it to her. “You didn’t just end up in Lost and Found. You were coming here. You said because you needed me. Why?”
“You took this from my personal belongings?”
“Max ordered me not to jog your memory. I was afraid the card would do that.”
“Oh. Yes, he explained how I hid behind the amnesia because it reminded me of when Eric died.”
“I didn’t like keeping the truth from you, Gina.”
“I know that much about you.” She set the envelope on the table beside her. “I suppose to explain why I came to you, I have to go back to the beginning.”
No. Not that far, he begged her silently. Not to the night we met. The first time I hurt you.
“To when Eric proposed,” she said.
Not to the first time, after all. But to the second.