BECAUSE THE BABY needed to be in the bedroom with his mother, Shane had moved the crib, changing table and rocking chair from the nursery to an area near Lillian’s bed.
Now he smiled grimly down into the crib. He’d felt uneasy since the day before yesterday, when the baby arrived, but now Shane knew he had cause for worry. Apparently, the photographer at the wedding—a man he and Lillian assumed Jefferson had hired—had been one of Fin’s men. And now Fin had run a wedding picture of Shane and Lillian, along with an announcement, in half the newspapers in the country. Since Lillian’s workplace was mentioned in the announcement, any fool could find her.
That Lillian and the baby were being used as bait filled Shane with cold fury. How long would it be before Lillian found out? How could the bastard do it? No doubt, Fin was hoping someone from the Ramsey crime consortium, maybe even Jack Ramsey himself, would see the picture, hunt Lillian down and try to get back the three million bucks. And then, of course, Fin would be there to collect. For days, Shane’s relationship with Fin had been strained, but even now Shane had managed to keep it professional, so he’d be kept in the loop where Lillian and the Ramseys were concerned.
Glancing from the crib to the closed door of the bathroom, Shane listened to the shower run. He was tempted to tell Lillian what was happening, but with the wedding picture circulating, he couldn’t risk her being angry with him. Besides, she’d waited so long for a baby that he couldn’t bear to ruin this special time for her, either. And anyway, Shane was used to coexisting with—or silently bearing the burden of—danger. While he didn’t see a lot of action in his current position, he’d been a detective for years.
Genuine humor suddenly touched his eyes. “Happy with yourself, kid?”
Little Shane yawned and squirmed.
Tugging off his T-shirt, Shane shrugged his faded bathrobe back on over his bare chest and boxers without tying the belt. “Lil?” As he called out the name, he vaguely wondered when he’d started calling her Lil, in addition to Lillian. “When you come, could you bring me a clean T-shirt?”
“Sure. Is everything okay in there? Having trouble dressing the baby?”
“A little.”
“Try to do a better job than you do on yourself.”
“He’s not wearing anything faded,” Shane said, defending himself.
As Lillian’s light, soft laughter floated from behind the closed bathroom door, Shane felt his spirits lift. It was good to hear her sound so happy. Wistfully, his eyes passed over the bed. The past two nights, he’d tried to share it, but Lillian stopped at kisses that left them both wanting more. Otherwise, they’d been completely occupied with the baby.
The baby, Shane thought. He sure was a handful. Gently, Shane scooted an outfit under him, then grasped the baby’s fist and coaxed, “See? Little Shane’s legs go here.” The baby’s lips peeled back in what Shane told himself was a smile. He started fumbling with some overly small snaps. “If we keep this up,” he said with a sigh, “you might be dressed before the year 2000.”
They’d begun at the changing table, but the baby had spit up on the first outfit, then dirtied a diaper when the second was in place. While Shane changed the diaper, Little Shane had wet on him. Which meant moving the baby to the crib again. After that, Shane tried to leave, to wash himself in the bathroom Lillian wasn’t occupying, but the baby began screaming.
Shane had paused at the threshold. It was ridiculous—he’d just needed to leave for three minutes to wash up—but those tiny screams of terror had stopped him short. Lone Star, who’d taken to protecting the crib from a distance, seemed to suspect Shane had hurt the baby, and she’d growled so ferociously that Shane hadn’t been able to get past the baby gate again until he’d brought Milk-Bones from the kitchen to bribe the dog.
And then Shane had called Fin, which had utterly destroyed his peace of mind. “Look here—” He tugged Little Shane’s arms into place. “This is where Little Shane’s arm goes.”
“Know where Big Shane’s arms go?”
Shane turned from the baby and leaned against the crib rail. “Around Big Lillian?” he suggested, his gaze drifting over her. “Don’t come any closer,” he suddenly added.
She stopped in her tracks, squinting. “Why?”
Because you look so gorgeous, baby, that’s why. She was so heart-stoppingly beautiful that it almost hurt, and Shane was half sure he’d kill any man who threatened her for so long as a heartbeat. His voice was throaty. “I just wanted to take a gander at you.”
Slightly flushing, Lillian turned a graceful full circle, then stood there smiling. The morning light was shining yellow in her loose blond hair, and after her shower she’d thrown on fresh nightclothes, instead of dressing. Beneath the white silk robe, he could see hints of an aqua silk shorts-style pajama. The lounge-wear top had spaghetti straps that lay on the upper swells of her breasts.
Her smile broadened. “Shane, can I please move now?”
Looking at her had brought a slow pull of arousal, but her sleep-tinged voice was even more of a torment. Despite all the worries plaguing him, he smiled back at her. “Say pretty please.”
“Pretty please.”
He didn’t say anything more, and she didn’t move. And the longer he looked at her, the tighter his throat got. “Sweetheart,” Shane finally murmured huskily, “why don’t you just come on over here for a kiss?”
She came, and as soon as she was close enough, Shane grasped her hand and pulled her into his arms, turning her so they could both look into the crib at Little Shane.
After a few silent moments, she gazed up. “Sorry, Shane—” Her husky teasing drawl flooded his lower body with sweet warmth. “I thought you said you were going to kiss me. But now I’m not sure I want that kiss, after all.”
“Teasing me? Why, you naughty girl.”
Her dark drowsy eyes sparkled. “Well, if I’m so naughty, what are you going to do about it?”
He was sure he’d think of something. He’d never been so intimately aware that there was nothing between him and a woman save shorts and a silk pajama. His eyes drifted over her face. She still looked sleepy, since the baby had kept them up, and she wasn’t wearing a hint of makeup, but Shane had never seen anyone look better. The baby had utterly transformed her. There was a new hope in her eyes now and a lightness to her step. She was in her element, loved and being loved.
Maybe it was his proximity, or the underlying seriousness of his tone, but Shane felt a slight shiver move through her as he suddenly confessed, “Lillian, in all honesty, I’d have trouble stopping at a kiss right about now.”
She met his gaze, swallowing hard. “Then maybe you’re right, Shane—” She glanced at the baby, then edged back a pace. “Maybe we’d better not get started…”
“I’m afraid it’s too late,” he said, coaxing her close again and tenderly brushing her wispy bangs from her forehead. Right now, they were both barely dressed, vulnerable from their dreams, and the air the around them was turning as hot and clammy as August.
She sighed, relenting with a soft smile. “Well, maybe just a kiss.”
“Damn right there’ll be a kiss,” he whispered, his mouth firmly settling over hers with a pressure that opened her lips, so his tongue’s soft flickers could taste her. When she leaned back, her eyes were the color of toasted almonds in the warm morning sunlight, her lips reddened and damp. She gazed over Shane’s shoulder at the baby, clearly trying to regain her equilibrium. “So, he’s been fussy, huh?” she asked, sounding a little shaky.
Shane smiled. Much as he wanted this woman, he also liked simply being with her. “Fussy?” he returned. “While you were taking a million hours to shower and brush your teeth, he was the kid from hell, Lillian.”
“I did not take hours,” she retorted.
“Did so. And all the while I was left parenting alone.” Parenting. The word felt strange in his mouth, but Shane wanted to try it on for size. And he was glad Lillian didn’t protest. Truth was, he enjoyed playing daddy—and she knew it. He liked how the few people who’d phoned yesterday—mostly his and Lillian’s coworkers—were calling him Big Shane, to differentiate him and the baby. The people from Big Apple Babies who’d seen the dark-haired boy said that he already looked exactly like Shane.
With a start, Shane realized he was merely smiling down at the baby. He glanced at Lillian. “You hungry, sweetheart?”
“Not quite. Are you cooking?”
His mouth curved in a wry smile. “Guess so. Unless Little Shane and I want to split a TV dinner for breakfast.”
She chuckled softly. “Maybe Little Shane could cook?”
“Maybe.” Shane glanced into the crib again. In the baby, he saw so much raw potential, so much promise. What lay ahead for the baby? For all three of them? Shane tamped down another spark of temper at what Fin had done. “Well,” he said dryly. “Little Shane doesn’t exactly look like the Galloping Gourmet—yet.”
Lillian lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe the crawling gourmet?”
“Crying gourmet,” Shane countered. “When will he crawl?”
“In a few months.”
“A few months.” Shane sighed, trying to imagine the baby growing up. Would Shane and Lillian be together then? What of this baby’s life would they share—if anything?
Gently disengaging himself, Shane leaned and lifted the baby. Every time he did, he wondered why he’d avoided holding babies for so long. In no more than a day, he’d come to love how the kid sprawled, warming his chest and cuddling those tiny fists on his shoulders. “C’mon,” he said to Lillian or the baby, he wasn’t sure which. “Big Shane wants to at least start thinking about our morning grub.”
Looking for all the world like a family, they padded down the hallway. Lillian sighed behind the two Shanes, tidying as she went—picking up sneakers, socks and slippers that Lone Star had dragged out of the bedroom. Lone Star, staring longingly at the “toys” now in Lillian’s hands, brought up the rear.
Just as they reached the living room, the baby emitted a strangled sigh that meant he was about to start wailing, so Shane began pacing between the terrace doors and windows overlooking Rector Park, bouncing the baby and cooing, “There, now. Don’t you start crying.”
He came to a halt. The longer he stared down from the window, the more he couldn’t deny the premonition of danger he always trusted. His eyes scanned the terrain, taking in where Liberty Terrace opened onto Rector Park, a small green with a few benches and center landscaping, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He decided he was just feeling paranoid because of the wedding photo Fin was circulating. He started pacing again, telling himself no one was out there.
Besides, if they were, trained agents were watching. As was Shane. He was taking time off from work, at Jake Lucas’s insistence, since Jake strongly felt Shane needed to be at home with Lillian and the new baby.
Well, maybe Shane was getting somewhere. Yesterday, when he’d gone to Lillian’s office to pick up some work she wanted to complete, Shane had snooped around some more. This time, he had found the combination to a safe. Could be nothing, could be something. But where was the safe itself? he wondered now. In Jefferson’s office? If so, did Lillian make use of it? Was it possible that Jefferson Lawrence knew about Lillian’s past?
“What are you looking for, Shane?”
He gently bounced the baby. “Looking for?”
Lillian frowned. “You keep pacing.”
“Sorry,” he murmured vaguely. But he did feel unsettled. While he couldn’t believe Lillian was hiding three million dollars somewhere, Uncle Silas’s partner, Trusty Joe, swore the money had been in the car she was driving when she left Louisiana. That meant countless people could be looking for her.
Shane realized Lillian was still gazing at him and the baby, now with the same bemused expression she got when she watched him fumble with domestic tasks to which he wasn’t suited. Shane squinted at her. “What?”
Her eyes turned solemn. “You really like him, don’t you, Shane?”
Shane glanced at the baby, his voice lowering, touched by emotion. “I like him a lot.” It was an obvious understatement.
A long silence fell, a quiet observance of the possibility that they could become a family, and when Shane’s gaze suddenly swept over the Hudson, he truly wished he could take the surveillance boat out of the landscape. Fin had sure rustled up a lot of manpower for an investigation that wasn’t official. But that was to be expected. Fin had wanted to bring in the Ramsey family’s crime consortium for years.
As Shane lifted his eyes from the river, Lillian came up behind him. Shifting the baby and reaching with a free hand, he fluffed her hair, running a finger under it. He watched as the smooth, soft strands fell over his fingers like a waterfall. “I want to make love to you again,” he said simply.
The way she reached out and grazed a finger down his cheek was both tender and intimate, but now Shane had come to crave such touches. How, in all these years, he wondered, had he stopped himself from loving a woman like this? Because there’s never been a woman like this.
For years, his little brother had been his sole responsibility, and Shane had feared that any distractions might hinder his ability to fulfill the promise he’d made to his mother: to watch over Doc. But now Shane’s little brother was a man, with a baby of his own. Maybe now it was Shane’s turn, Shane’s time…
The tender way Lillian kept touching his face stole his breath, making it too shallow. Thinking into the far past, he remembered the night of the flood again—the sound of the ghostly, howling winds, and of the hard rains slashing the windowpanes. To calm himself that night, he’d fantasized about the sunny days to come, when the swollen river would recede and he, Doc, and their daddy would fly-fish in the tame waters.
Even as Shane had indulged those simple daydreams, his daddy had been dead. And Shane hadn’t even known it. But now, maybe it was finally time to let the past go….
Lillian’s velvet finger crooked on his cheek; somehow, it seemed to beckon him, calling him back to love again after all these years. He suddenly knew that wild horses could never drag him from this woman and child. Should he tell her everything now? Maybe ask for her help in figuring their way out of this? She really could push you away because of it. And then she and the baby’d be on their own, with no one to protect them. Is that what you want?
“Shane?”
“Hmm?”
“You seem so worried.”
“I’m fine.”
Sighing, she stretched on her toes, and with a gentleness he’d never felt and would never forget, she kissed his cheek. Shifting the baby again, he turned his head and found her lips. He’d shared deeper kisses with her, but this was the most satisfying—with the baby cradled in his arms, and her mouth so warm and soft beneath his own.
She smiled. “There. Did that calm your nerves?”
Not really.
Suddenly, his heart jump-started. His body tensed. Sensing the changes, the baby gave a strangled sob, followed by a deep gasp, then a wail. Shane barely noticed. That green van, he thought. It had been parked outside ever since the baby’s arrival. He’d never seen it on the block before. Maybe that’s what kept bringing him back to this window. Now he saw a glint of light flash from it, maybe from a camera lens or binoculars. Was it another FBI agent? Or someone who worked for Jack Ramsey?
“Here.” Shane gently moved the baby into Lillian’s arms.
Her eyes narrowed with concern. “What?”
“Just take him. I’ll be right back.”
Shane headed down the hallway with long strides, then summoned the elevator. Once inside, he stared at his reflection in the mirrored interior, suddenly wishing he was wearing something other than the robe, or that he’d at least gotten shoes and his gun. But he hadn’t wanted to waste time dressing. And the gun, which he kept out of Lillian’s sight at her request, wasn’t accessible. It was hidden in the guest-room closet, unloaded.
Downstairs, he hit the hallway running.
“You realize you’re wearing a robe outside, sir?” called a desk clerk, as if he were long accustomed to eccentric tenants.
“No, I didn’t realize that,” Shane returned without missing a beat. “Thanks for telling me.” That was the one good thing about New York, he thought, heading through the front door. A man could streak stark naked down an avenue without anyone noticing; sometimes it came in handy.
Leaving the high-rise, Shane rounded Rector Park, then he turned left, circled South End Avenue, and doubled back, approaching the van from the back.
It had New York plates. Since the driver’s window was open, he considered knocking on the metal beside it. But feeling sure the person inside was watching Lillian’s apartment, he decided a surprise approach was best. He’d rather accidentally scare somebody innocent than lose a skirmish with someone watching Lillian and his son.
His son.
As he crept toward the back of the van, Shane’s heart thudded, both from the possibly impending danger and the admission of how he really felt about the baby. Not that Shane’s feelings mattered. Face it, the boy was his—legally. Maybe Shane hadn’t protected his parents. Or his Uncle Silas… But he’d protect Lillian and Little Shane.
Shane took quiet, shallow breaths as he silently flattened his back against the side of the van. The metal, heated by the sun, burned his skin through the robe while the pavement blistered the bottoms of his bare feet. Squinting against the sun’s glare, he inched along the van, toward the open window, until he reached the driver’s side door.
Swiftly, he grabbed the door handle and tugged. Reaching inside, he grabbed the person’s shoulder—realizing too late that brute force wasn’t necessary. The person who tumbled out was slight of build, but wearing a hat in spite of the heat. Shane swiped at the hat.
Red hair cascaded down.
“Ethel,” Shane said with a frustrated sigh. Didn’t she know how close he’d come to possibly hurting her?
Her wide blue eyes blinked owlishly and her blush made Shane suddenly remember he was barefoot and bare-chested. His robe was undone, flapping in the summer breeze and exposing his ridiculously faded pink boxer shorts. “I promise, Ethel,” he muttered, retying the robe. “One day we’ll meet when I’m fully dressed.”
“Sorry,” she murmured guiltily.
You should be. “Ethel, I kept seeing this van out here. I thought it was…” He could hardly tell Ethel he’d suspected she was a member of a dangerous crime consortium. “Uh…some crazy person.” In New York City, such an admission passed for reasonable.
Ethel’s face had turned crimson. “I should have known you’d catch me, Shane! When I called your ex-boss in East Texas, to check you out, he said you were an absolute guru when it came to surveillance. That’s a quote. He said you don’t miss a thing.”
Shane could merely stare. “You called my ex-boss?”
“Sure. I’m your caseworker. It’s my job. I had to check out your work history.”
Shane bit back a sigh at the reminder that this woman still had the power to take away Little Shane; she was due to return for follow-up visits. He kept any trace of real worry from his voice. “What were you doing out here?”
“My job.” She suddenly wrung her hands. “See, Shane, I’ve had some trouble at work. Everybody says I’m a soft touch. But I love to see deserving couples get kids. Anyway, in your case, I was afraid people would say I was too hasty. So, I just wanted to make sure everything was fine.”
“We’re fine,” he managed. And they were. Finding Ethel out here instead of a mobster relieved Shane tremendously. It was proof he was overreacting.
Ethel’s eyes drifted over him. “Well, I can see that. And,” she joked awkwardly. “I do hope to see you in clothes someday.” After another moment of conversation, she got back into the van.
When Shane reached the apartment building, he looked back. The van hadn’t budged. He guessed Ethel still meant to watch their every move. With his luck, she’d notice the FBI surveillance. Or Fin would decide to arrest Lillian.
“Great,” Shane said with a sigh, heading inside. All he needed was another person in this crazy mix to worry about.
SO THAT WAS Delilah’s latest husband. Or Lillian’s.
Seven cars behind the van, a man in a tan Chevy shrugged out of his white linen suit, then raised binoculars to his eyes. He’d figured out a lot in the past twenty-four hours. Delilah had gotten herself the baby she’d always wanted, the redhead was the caseworker, and the new husband looked as if he’d make a worthy adversary.
Shane Holiday was a professional tough guy. A security guard, apparently. Not bad-looking, tall and well-built, with black hair. Attractive if a woman liked the dangerous type, which Delilah obviously did. But Holiday had an unfortunate fatal flaw—he leaped before he looked. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have run outside in that raggedy bathrobe and confronted the caseworker.
But who was Holiday expecting? The man in the car wasn’t sure, but he figured he’d better leave before he was spotted. Besides, he had all the information he needed now. The next step was talking to Delilah. Alone. Without her tough-guy watchdog around. Of course, he needed to give Delilah a good scare first. Just so she’d know he meant business. Seven years ago, she’d taken three million dollars in cold hard cash. And now he wanted it back.
Taking her by surprise would be simple enough. After all, Delilah thought he was dead. In fact, she thought she was the one who had killed him, however accidentally.
Sam Ramsey laid the binoculars beside him on the seat, next to a Glock 9 mm pistol and Panama hat, and stared down at the newspaper picture of his wife, which was on the seat. She was wearing a white dress—the one in which she’d married Shane Holiday.
“Married her,” Sam Ramsey muttered. Well, I guess that makes you and me both, Shane. “Seems the woman’s got one too many husbands at the moment. Now, what are we going to do about that?”
LILLIAN’S HEART was racing, pumping adrenaline. She cradled the baby more closely against her. “Shane, what’s this all about? Why’s Ethel out there?”
He quickly, calmly, related what the caseworker had said.
Lillian still couldn’t believe it. “I saw the whole thing from the window. Is…is she thinking about trying to take away Little Shane?” Carrying the baby, she followed Shane as he headed for the kitchen. “And who did you think was in the van?” she continued. “I mean, why did you go crazy like that?” She attempted a laugh. “Not that I didn’t enjoy the display of brawn, of course.”
In the kitchen, Shane gulped down a glass of water, then set aside the glass, leaning against the counter. He shrugged. “Sorry. I’m trained as a cop. Sometimes my instincts just go on overdrive.”
Still bouncing the baby in her arms, Lillian leaned and dropped a kiss on his forehead. “So, Ethel’s been watching the apartment since she gave us the baby?”
Shane nodded, drawing both her and the baby into his arms.
“And you just had a hunch?” she clarified.
“Yeah. I felt like there was somebody out there watching us. And there was. But it was only Ethel.” Now that Lillian was calmer, he repeated everything Ethel had said again, this time more slowly. “Ethel’s just worried,” he finished. “She’s just doing everything she can to be thorough.”
Lillian managed to nod. Ever since the baby came, she’d been wondering if she should risk telling Shane the truth about her past. He was an ex-detective. And a trustworthy one. He’d know what to do. Maybe he could help her. Of course, there was always the possibility that he’d turn her in…
Leaning against his chest, she gazed down, her eyes roving over the baby—the wisps of dark hair, the small pink bud of his mouth. It had been years since she’d first set her heart on getting a baby, but she’d never have initiated the proceedings if she hadn’t been sure it was safe now. Still, seeing Shane in action had made her past come racing back. What if someone other than Ethel had been out there?
“It was Ethel,” she murmured aloud, drawing in a deep breath to steady herself. No one from her past was outside. Sam Ramsey was dead. His father, Jack Ramsey, would never find her. The only thing Lillian needed to think about was whether or not to tell Shane what had happened to her seven years ago.
With his thumb, Shane traced her silent lips, then delivered a kiss to the spot his thumb had touched. Even that unassuming touch of his mouth made Lillian’s limbs heavy with wanting him. It was pointless to fight it. Especially right now, when she wanted nothing more than all his strength and comfort.
“Still want to make love?” she found herself whispering.
“You know I do.”
Moments later, in the bedroom, they put the baby down, then Lillian shut the blinds and curtains against the light, slowly opened her robe and lifted her pajama top over her head. A second later, Shane pulled her into his embrace. And then they were tumbling together into the still-messed covers, rolling—and rolling fast—toward whatever might come.