SHANE LEANED AGAINST the rail of the FBI boat that was docked at the Manhattan Yacht Club. “Lillian doesn’t have that money. Other than living under an assumed name, I don’t think she’s guilty of anything.”
Fin’s subordinates—four fresh-faced agents—hooted and slapped each other on the back. “I tell you,” one laughed. “That was a helluva kiss in the rain the other night!”
“And check out the pooch!”
Shane’s jaw set. Lone Star daintily pranced past, sniffing at deck chairs. Star-shaped barrettes kept her shaggy bangs out of her eyes, a red bandanna was around her neck, secured by a sheriff’s badge, and she wore red toenail polish. Shane would never live this one down. Or the kiss.
He’d been so caught in the moment, he’d forgotten there was a surveillance boat in the Hudson. Not that Shane gave a damn what the agents thought. They had no more right to spy on his private moments than he’d had to watch Lillian over the years. A cop could stake out a woman without completely invading her privacy. In the future, Shane would remember it.
Fin thankfully offered more sobriety than his assistants. “I’m sorry, Shane,” he was saying. “But you’re crossing the line. Thinking below the belt.”
Shane found the comment offensive. He wanted Lillian. But there were emotions involved. “You’re wrong. She hasn’t gotten to me.”
“Oh, Shane. Shane,” crooned the agent in falsetto.
He willed himself not to react. “I’ve been undercover countless times,” he said flatly. “I don’t lose perspective.”
There was a long silence.
As he stared around, trying to quell his frustration, he decided he hated Manhattan. As far as he was concerned, the Manhattan Yacht Club was even worse. It reeked of soulless men who reveled in money and power, thriving on the rat race and their own hostile games. Right now, the FBI boat was hemmed in between three mammoth yachts—named the Titan, the Machiavelli and the Bossman. Tired of torturing himself, he glanced at the skyscrapers; the miles of steel shot into the sky. Beneath them was the only place on earth where you could get vertigo from looking up, instead of down.
Unless you’re with Lillian. Propped on his elbow in the floor of her living room, gazing up into her eyes, Shane had felt that same vertigo. His life was spinning out of control in a whirlpool of emotion and energy he didn’t understand—or even want to understand—and which he was powerless to stop.
He tried again. “Our best bet is to come clean with the woman. We’ll talk to her, assure her we’ll protect her. She’ll tell us everything she knows.”
Fin merely stared at him. “What? Did you sleep with her?”
“You’ve no right to ask.” Shane kept his voice calm.
“I’ve done what I said I’d do. I’ve searched her apartment and office. The only place I haven’t searched is her boss’s office. It’s too open. But I’ve found nothing pertaining to the mob’s money.”
“She lives awful rich.”
“The apartment belongs to her boss. It’s a real estate investment. You know it checks out.”
“How can she afford those clothes?”
“Sales. She doesn’t really spend much on clothes.”
The agents rolled their eyes.
Shane had about had it. “You really expect me to marry her tomorrow?”
Fin said, “Yeah, I do.”
Shane grunted softly in frustration. “I guess you think we should wind up with a baby, too.” He glanced up the river promenade toward the apartment. Supposedly, he was walking Lone Star before the kids came, since it was Friday night and he and Lillian were baby-sitting. Not that Shane knew anything about baby-sitting. Or babies.
He thought of Brandon. Tomorrow’s wedding could bring Lillian closer to getting the baby. But he couldn’t allow it to happen. If she did get the child she so desperately wanted only to be arrested and have Brandon taken away, it would kill her.
“I can’t marry her.”
“If you back out now,” Fin said, “she’ll know something’s up. And Ethel Crumble agreed to interview you two immediately. Just follow through. It’s no big deal. It’s your job.”
Shane was about to explode. “No. Technically, I work for Big Apple Babies, as a security guard. That’s who pays me, Fin.”
“Don’t you care about who killed your uncle anymore?”
That was a low blow. Damn right, Shane cared. And he wouldn’t rest until the murderer was caught. His eyes narrowed with anger, but his voice was even. “If Lillian saw anything that night, we won’t find out this way. We need to talk to her.”
“You know, Shane,” Fin warned softly. “I’ve already got enough evidence to grill her about her involvement with the Ramsey crime consortium. On lesser charges, I could jail her by this afternoon. Do you want that?”
Of course not. He really hated these big-city types. “No.”
“The only way you can stay in the game is to marry her.”
“She doesn’t have the money.”
“Then I suggest you use this time to prove it.”
“I’ll do that.” There was nothing left to say. Turning curtly on his heel, Shane whistled, bringing Lone Star to his side.
“And Shane—” Fin yelled as the boat cast off, heading back out to anchor in the Hudson, in front of Lillian’s. “Look at the bright side. If you’re married to her, then you’d never have to testify against her.”
Fin did have a point there.
LILLIAN PUSHED ASIDE the pizza boxes and leaned next to Shane at the island counter near the living room. The kids were all fed, and now they were playing with Lone Star.
“Guess she’s the main attraction,” Shane said.
“No, you are.” The boys had been fascinated by Shane’s law-enforcement and Texas ranch experience, and the girls were attracted to his good looks. Shane didn’t mind the attention nearly as much as he kept professing.
She suddenly smiled. As she watched the kids, she noted that Benny and his twin, Jim, exhibited different styles despite their identical looks; Jim was riling the poor dog while Benny petted with slow deliberate strokes. Blond, waifish five-year-old Susan pranced around in a dazzle of bracelets and shiny nail polish, not about to dirty herself by petting anything less than a pedigreed champion, although her friend, Cass, gave her all, scratching Lone Star briskly.
Lone Star didn’t look nearly as enthusiastic as Cass.
Feeling the heat and hard strength of Shane’s body as he edged closer, Lillian glanced up, still smiling. Grinning back, Shane stretched his arm easily behind her. “So, you baby-sit Wall Street kids, huh?”
“Most Fridays. Though not for the past few weeks.”
He sighed. “I’d say Benny’s going to be the CEO, and Jim’ll be his right-hand man.”
Standing side-by-side with Shane, his arm draped casually around her, Lillian couldn’t help but notice how perfectly their bodies aligned. “So Jim’s the fall guy, huh?”
Shane nodded gravely. “Spurred on by nothing more than veiled suggestions, Jim’ll go for the throat of Benny’s enemies, vanquishing them by brute force.”
Lillian nodded at Ben, who was quietly lulling Lone Star with soft strokes. “Gentle Ben might slowly sneak up on everyone and emerge victorious.”
Shane raised an eyebrow. “If Cass lets him.”
Lillian’s shoulders shook with mirth. “So, you really think Cass’s good-hard-scratch approach wins out?”
Shane’s eyes settled on Lillian, flickering over the lace-edged scooped neckline of her floral sundress. “I’d say it’s a fifty-fifty. But soft stroking’s good. Depends on the context.” He shrugged. “Besides, Susan might be right. Sometimes no petting at all is best.”
Lillian arched an eyebrow. “It is?”
“Sure—” Shane’s quick smile sent a delicious shudder through Lillian, leaving her body weak. “The absence of all petting whets the appetite.”
Lillian’s cheeks warmed as she thought about the kisses she kept withholding from Shane. Was she merely building their desire? Thinking of how he’d held her, a slow shiver teased the space between her shoulders. Her voice stayed steady. “Hmm. Should our fictitious company be bracing itself for some sort of takeover?” Even as she said the words, another tactile memory of how good they’d been together came rushing back.
“Definitely.” Shane dragged a hand through his hair, but when he leaned and toyed with the lace edges of her dress sleeve, a wayward lock fell into his eyes again.
“It’ll be swift. Ruthless. A real power play.”
She chuckled. “Will I get any warning?”
He smiled. “Maybe one real slow shiver.”
She sent him a sideways glance. “What? No rumors of war?”
“Maybe a husky whisper.”
“Sounds like I’m in for a whole restructuring.”
Shane nodded. “I’m thinking in terms of a top-to-bottom rearrangement.”
There was no help for the sudden catch in her voice. “Sounds as if you’re very thorough when you take over.”
“All Wall Street raiders are,” he warned. “And we security guys are even worse…”
Lillian widened her eyes in mock terror. “You are?”
“Down and dirty. We open every door. Go for complete and total surrender of the company.”
“I take it you mean present company.”
“Yours alone.”
When their eyes met again, his smoldered, burning the hazy, hot smoky-blue of ashes. Awareness flickered in the depths and said he wanted more from her than this casual verbal sparring. He wanted the deeper things they could share. The things he’d been ready to give the night he kissed her in the rain. She realized she was having a good time again—feeling sexy again. And safe. She’d come to anticipate so many things—Shane’s presence, the warm comfort of sleeping with the dog, and this light banter.
She glanced over the playing kids, then leaning closer to Shane. “Tired of talking business?”
“Lillian, I was talking pleasure.”
“It’s not good to mix the two,” she quipped lightly.
“No, it’s not.”
She was surprised to see something strangely dark flit into Shane’s eyes. What was it—doubt? A warning? Lillian didn’t understand it. Didn’t Shane want to mix pleasure with their business-style marriage? Wasn’t that the point of this flirtation? Not that he cared about anything lasting. From day one, he’d made clear he wasn’t the marrying kind. Unable to follow his train of thought, Lillian glanced at the kids again.
They were so wonderful. Just watching them made her want a family. Her throat felt suddenly tight, and her eyes strayed back to Shane. His gray-blue shirt matched his eyes, and the dark stubble on his sculpted jaw made him look tougher than he really was. Nestled against him, she was keenly aware of the coiled strength in his body. He was a trained cop—she’d be a fool to forget it—and she sometimes thought he experienced his every breath as dangerous. His suspicious nature was evident in how his gaze periodically swept over the kids, and while Lillian feared his acute powers of observation, she also trusted him. At least, insofar as she could trust anyone.
“Hmm,” he finally said, staring at Lone Star. “I’m not sure my newly domesticated dog likes being the center of attention. Should I rescue her?”
“Not yet.” Stand here with me another few minutes. “You’re getting a little more domesticated yourself.”
“If you’re talking about my cooking, I wouldn’t read too much into it.” He shot her an easy smile. “It’s that or your TV dinners.” He suddenly squinted at her. “What? Are you thinking about putting barrettes in my hair next?”
“It would keep it out of your eyes.” Lifting a hand, she brushed away the fallen raven strand. “As undomesticated as you claim you are,” she couldn’t help but add, “I think you’d make a great dad. The kids like you.”
“Lillian,” he returned flatly. “I hate kids.”
She smiled. “You do not, Shane. And I refuse to be bamboozled by your lies.”
“As if you know me so well.”
“I do.”
That shadow Lillian didn’t understand filtered through Shane’s eyes again. He frowned. “What do you know about me so far?”
A lot. You’ve never let yourself love a woman because you fear you’re unable to protect the people you love. “I already know more about you than any other woman,” she reminded. “You told me that yourself.”
So far. Already. Did those words imply she and Shane had a future? She thought of the white lace dress wrapped in her closet in plastic and felt a twinge of panic. Everything was getting so complex, so involved.
Shane’s voice was oddly gruff. “Well, I guess you know enough about me to marry me tomorrow.”
But not enough to let me kiss you again. That’s probably what he wanted to say. Lillian felt so torn. But if they kissed again, it definitely wouldn’t stop at a kiss. She tried again to restore the lightness of their conversation. “Now, now,” she chided. “Let’s not take our upcoming marital roles too seriously.”
“Keep teasing me—” He quickly grabbed a finger she only now realized had settled on his chest. “And I swear, I’ll claim my marital rights tomorrow night.”
The kiss they’d shared was so powerful and urgent that she knew better than to taunt him, but she just couldn’t stop herself. “Oh, I’m so scared, Shane.”
This time his gaze lasered into hers, packing real heat, and the sparkle snuffed from his eyes. His voice turned strangely gentle. “Why would you be scared? If I claimed those rights, we’d both be in heaven.” His eyes drifted toward her lips. “You do know that. Don’t you, Lillian?”
Nothing more than his eyes touching her skin made her hot all over. “Yeah—” The word came on a hard breath. “But, Shane, we can’t get confused about what we’re doing here.”
“We’re getting married tomorrow.”
She forced a smile, determined to regain the light tone. “But just think, if we were really married, you’d have to deal with kids. And you just said you hate kids. So, when the baby comes…”
You’ll leave. The knowledge hit her all at once. Already her heart wrenched at losing him, but she was excited, too. “Oh, Shane,” she wound up continuing in a hushed tone, “I just hope this works. Marrying me to help me adopt Brandon was such a risky idea, but now I’m so…” Afraid it won’t work out. Or afraid we’ll get caught. Or afraid I’ll get the baby and not be a good mother. She settled on, “So excited.”
Everything had fallen into place. Right after the wedding, Ethel was going to interview them as a married couple. “Really, Shane, even if it doesn’t happen, I can never thank you enough for helping me try.”
Answering emotion was in his eyes. Against her instincts, Lillian dared to hope it was because he was coming to care for her. She’d memorized so many facts about his life, coaxing out family secrets, private hurts and dreams. At first, it was only because she wanted a caseworker to believe she loved him. But fact and fiction had blurred. The kiss they’d shared was real and more urgent than anything Lillian had ever known.
That Shane understood how much she wanted the baby had moved her from the beginning. Now she impulsively reached out. Beneath her fingertips, the rough whiskers on his jaw prickled. When he didn’t back away as he sometimes did, she stretched and kissed his cheek. The kids, still occupied with Lone Star, didn’t notice. “I mean it, Shane,” she said simply. “Thanks.”
She saw his throat work when he swallowed, and the gravelly sound of him clearing it touched her. So did the sudden vague helplessness in his eyes.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she assured gently.
His voice was rusty, almost apologetic. “If…if I ever can help you, Lillian, remember I will.”
“You are helping me.”
He nodded, but everything in his eyes begged to differ. Afraid she was embarrassing him, Lillian turned her attention to the kids. “Quit batting Lone Star on the nose, Jim, or you’re liable to get bit,” she warned.
“I thought Shane was gonna show us how to arrest somebody, anyway,” groused Jim. “He said he would after we ate our pizza.”
“C’mon, Shane,” Ben called out.
Lillian nudged Shane, then watched as he strode toward the kids, pulling a set of handcuffs from his back jeans pocket. As he began explaining arrest procedures, Lone Star escaped to flop at Lillian’s feet, happy to be relieved of entertainment duties.
Staring at the dog, Lillian shook her head. Each night, Lone Star nudged open her bedroom door. And last night, when she’d awakened, roused by a nightmare, Lillian had finally given in to temptation.
Pulling on her robe, she’d crept to the guest room. Shane was so sensitive to sounds, she was surprised he didn’t waken. But he didn’t. And she stayed there a long time, wanting to slide beneath the sheet and lie next to him. Not for sex—though she wanted it—but to feel his strong comforting warmth near her after that horrible dream. Was she really going to marry him? she’d wondered. This man whose life she’d so carefully studied for the biggest test of hers—to get a son?
Shane slept naked, just as he’d warned, and her eyes had lingered on the powerful, commanding shape of his masculinity beneath the sheet. She’d never seen a man so sleek and beautiful. Fine black hairs trailed down his hard chest, and his long legs were endless. With sleep, the lines around his eyes vanished, making him look younger, and reminding her he really was a man. A man who’d never admit how much he feared love. An ex-cop who’d seen men die. An orphaned child who’d tried to raise his own brother.
Watching him, she’d wondered if he’d ever seen her sleep. She’d even imagined him looking at her—his assessing waterlike eyes swimming down over her silk gown. Maybe he’d seen more. Her panties or the slope of an exposed breast. Now the wild thoughts gave her a slow warm shiver. His words came back: Keep teasing me, and I’ll claim my marital rights. Oh, she suddenly wanted very, very badly to tease.
“Lillian’s gotta be the crim’nal!” she heard Jim squeal.
That snapped her from her reverie. The kids wanted Shane to arrest her? “Please,” she began, “I really don’t think…”
Shane shook his head. “No, let’s not.”
But Cass was clapping with utter delight.
And Benny waved a small white card Shane had given him. “I get to read the Miranda warning. Shane says I can!”
Another shiver—this time, pinpricks of fear—settled at the small of Lillian’s back. Her last wedding night had been so devastating, full of crimson sparks and earsplitting explosions. She couldn’t get married again….
She pushed away the images. Get hold of yourself! The kids simply want to see a security guard in action! You’re not actually getting arrested. Keeping her gaze trained away from Shane, Lillian forced a smile. “Ah,” she said. “So, what have I done wrong?”
“Robbed a bank!” suggested Cass enthusiastically.
“No,” argued Jim. “Everybody robs banks!”
The mention of money made Lillian blank out again while the kids argued over the nature of her crimes. The nature of my crimes? she thought bitterly. Was it so criminal to foolishly love the wrong man?
Her eyes met Shane’s. He seemed to be watching her so carefully. She managed a smile, just a nervous twitch of her lips that never reached her eyes. He smiled back—she could swear—a second too late. In that second, she felt sure Shane Holiday could read her mind. He could see into her past—and knew all about the crimson fire in her dreams and the explosions.
But of course he didn’t. Fortunately, the kids were making headway. “Maybe she’s a jewel thief,” Jim said.
“Diamonds,” Cass specified.
“And in the getaway, she killed a man!”
The words echoed in Lillian’s mind. Killed a man. Killed a man. Her heart was pumping so hard she could no longer hear at all, and she felt as if every molecule of air had been sucked from the room.
“Lil’yun’s not mean,” announced Susan. “She did somethin’ like Robin Hood, where she stole from the rich and gave to the poor.”
Everyone agreed. Her heart still pounding, Lillian tried her best to enter the game. Playing the suspect, she started running circles around the living room, wildly waving her arms while the “bloodhound”—meaning Lone Star—barked and nipped at her heels.
The kids screamed, shouted and gave chase. With every pounding footstep and every gasping breath, Lillian could still feel Shane’s strangely pale eyes riveted on her. It’s just your imagination, Lillian! The man can’t read your mind.
Stopping in front of the windows, Lillian waved her arms wildly, then fled again. She ran around the room until it finally felt good to run. Until the game started to feel therapeutic. After all, she was winning—she’d outrun her past. She’d eluded the Ramseys and was about to adopt Brandon.
Shane came at her head on, and she feinted left, then lunged. He just missed her. A whoosh of air sounded inches behind her and the handcuffs he was waving clinked. All around her, the kids giggled.
“Arf!”
“Get ’er, Lone Star!” Jim shouted, sounding blood-thirsty.
“I almost got ’er, Shane!” shouted Benny.
“Gotcha.”
This time the voice was low and sexy. Unmistakably Shane’s. Caught, she fell to the floor as gracefully as possible—breathless, her heart pounding, her knees weak. For just a second, her past seemed a lifetime away. Because she was suddenly laughing with the kids and Shane…and wishing. If only she could share a home with a man she loved. She wanted to roughhouse with their kids, just like this. And share pizzas and secrets, grow gardens and learn to trust again.
“You got the right to remain silent, Lillian!” Benny announced. The little boy stepped back and, in spite of his giggles, tried to read the Miranda warning.
Lillian could merely smile up at Shane. Smelling of soap and old clean denim, he was kneeling next to where she lay on her back on the floor. When he hauled her to her feet, their eyes meshed.
His voice was low and hoarse—maybe from the tussle, maybe from physical need stirred by her close proximity. “You’re under arrest,” he said, slapping on the cuffs.
The chuckle suddenly died in her throat.
Footsteps were pounding in the outer hallway, and a fist beat on her front door. A man shouted, “Open up! Open up in there!”
She whirled from Shane’s grasp as more steps sounded. For a second, she thought none of it was real, that her innermost fears had somehow come to life. Both men were rushing her door. Outside, hard bodies thudded against the wood. She watched in shock as someone realized the door wasn’t even locked and turned the knob. Men fell through, with guns drawn and badges held out.
Lillian couldn’t move. Not even to look at Shane. She could only stand there, in a frozen stupor. What was happening? Gunman were rushing toward her, down the front hallway she traversed every morning in her bathrobe. As if in a dream, she watched Shane race to intercept them.
“Get back!” someone shouted. “There’s been an arrest.”
But no one got back. Everyone but Lillian was still moving. Susan had fled for Shane’s arms and he’d caught her in midstride, swinging her into his arms. Cass grabbed Lillian’s hand, and Lone Star protected the boys, growling fiercely at the intruders.
“What’s going on here?” Shane demanded. “Who are you? How could you burst in here like this?”
The men stepped back, looking uncertain.
“We heard there was noise. Screaming and yelling. Some neighbors called and complained, saying they thought there was real trouble here.” The man glanced toward Lillian’s handcuffed hands. “Uh…”
“We were playing a game with these kids we’re baby-sitting,” explained Shane, taking command and shooing the men back through the door. “I’m an ex-cop, a security guard, and I was showing these kids how to make an arrest. Sorry. Tell all the neighbors we’ll keep the noise down.”
Lillian was shaking as Shane gently removed the handcuffs. Had real law officers just burst into the apartment? They’d vanished as quickly as they’d come. Her heart was still hammering and her mind could barely catch up. Her lungs ached and burned—maybe from running, but more likely from what had transpired. “Where did they come from?” she gasped.
Shane’s voice was calm. “They said a neighbor called.”
“But we weren’t that noisy. And they came so fast.” Response time for the police in New York City wasn’t exactly immediate. And they were in plain clothes, not uniforms. Were they already in the building for some other reason? Yes, that must have been it.
“Neighbors called,” she finally repeated, assuring herself. She felt Shane’s arm glide supportively around her back. Something’s wrong, Lillian. You’re missing something here. Was it something to do with one of those men…
But they’d come and gone so fast. What was teasing her mind? A memory? Had she seen one of the men before? She managed to shake off the paranoia and plaster a smile on her lips. “I guess that just took me by surprise.” She glanced around. “Sorry, kids.”
“Sorry?” Jim said in awe. “That was great!”
“I can’t wait to tell my friend Tony,” assured Benny.
Susan looked fine. And Cass was petting Lone Star again. Lillian felt Shane’s hand gently rubbing her lower back.
“You okay?” he said gently.
“Maybe I’m just nervous about tomorrow,” she managed. Tomorrow. What was she going to do about the wedding? Oh, she wanted Brandon more than anything. But what she and Shane were doing was wrong….
Even worse, she could feel her past nipping at her heels, closing in around her like walls pressing inward. After only one shared kiss, she was falling for Shane, too, and having fantasies where he stayed, becoming Brandon’s daddy. But Shane couldn’t be in her life. He was an ex-cop. He’d realize there were gaps in her past. Maybe he’d already guessed that the simple white brick house with the picket fence existed only in her dreams. She yearned for it, just the way she did a baby. Just the way she yearned for Shane.
“Lillian?”
She gazed into Shane’s eyes. The kids were excitedly discussing their visit from the police, but she kept her voice low, anyway. “Shane, I’ve changed my mind. We can’t get married tomorrow.”
His face turned hard. The pupils of his eyes held an uncompromising intensity she’d never seen, and his voice was a command. “Don’t get cold feet on me now.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
She stared back in mute protest. How could she explain to Shane that the police might come here for different reasons someday? And that next time, her arrest might be real.