As she brushed past he leaned close to whisper, “Don’t forget where we left off.”
She shot him a look. “If you’re thinking of trying for a second inning, think again.”
“An apt description, since we’ve gone way past first base.” He grinned. “Our chaperones can’t stay awake all night.”
“I’ve got news for you. I’ll be leaving with them right after dinner.”
“Spoilsport.”
It was her turn to grin. “Thanks to those…chaperones, I’ve come to my senses.”
“Or lost them. Think of all the fun you’ll be missing if you call off the game now.” He brushed a curl behind her ear and felt her trembling response to his touch. “Speaking of innings, like the great Yogi Berra said, It ain’t over til it’s over.”
Cory looked up from the kitchen table. “What are you two whispering about?”
“Baseball,” Donovan said with a grin. “Now who likes Parmesan cheese on their pasta?”
“You make the best spaghetti in the world.” Cory used a slice of garlic bread to wipe the last of the sauce from his plate.
“Thanks, Cory. But I’m afraid that honor goes to Pop.”
“That’s his grandfather,” Cory explained to his mother. “Pop went to live with Donovan’s family after his dad died.”
“Yeah.” Taylor nodded. “And he’s still living there.”
“Really?” Andi glanced from her son to her daughter. “And how would the two of you know so much about Donovan’s life?”
Cory beamed with pride. “He told us while we helped him today. His grandfather was a policeman like his father. And Donovan became a policeman, too. Only he policed the whole planet.”
Taylor turned to her brother. “Is that bigger than the world?”
The boy shrugged. “It means the same thing.”
“Oh.” Taylor noisily sipped the last of her soda through a straw. “Did you wear a uniform, Donovan?”
“My uniform was whatever the natives were wearing.”
“What are natives?” Taylor pushed aside her empty glass.
“People who live in a particular place. Right now we’re the natives of these hills.”
“We are?” The little girl looked pleased.
“That’s right. And I think it’s time to give the natives their just dessert.” He glanced around the table. “I have apples, strawberries or bananas. Unless a magic genie baked a cake while we were having our pasta.”
“I’ll have strawberries.” Cory eyed the huge bowl of washed and stemmed berries on the kitchen counter.
“Me, too.” Taylor watched as Donovan spooned them into bowls and added powdered sugar on top.
After filling two cups with coffee he led the way to the front porch, where they lingered, watching a spectacular sunset.
Afterward, they carried their dishes to the kitchen, where Andi insisted on helping with the cleanup.
“You made the dinner. The least I can do is load the dishwasher.”
Cory deposited his bowl in the sink. “Donovan, do you mind if Taylor and I go in the other room and look at all your stuff?”
“Not at all. Help yourself.” Donovan picked up a towel and waited only long enough to see the children through the doorway before joining Andi at the sink.
“I think there are enough things in the other room to hold their interest for a half hour or more.” He gave her a killer smile that had her heart tumbling. “Care to take up where we left off before dinner?”
“Not on your life.” She put a hand to his chest when he leaned close.
His smile grew. “Don’t you want to put a little fun in your life?”
“Fun? Danger is not my idea of fun, Donovan. And I know now that I’ll be taking my life in my hands whenever I kiss you.”
“All the better. Tell the truth.” He placed his hands on either side of her, pinning her against the counter. “Would you be satisfied with bland?”
She could feel the imprint of his body on hers. It had her breath backing up and her heart beating overtime. “I think bland would be preferable to heart attack.”
He shocked her by placing his fingertips to the pulse that fluttered at her throat. At once her heart seemed to take one hard bounce before beating even faster. “Is that what you’re afraid of? Your heart?”
“Yes.” She pushed his hand aside and took several steps away, fighting for air. “In more ways than one. I’m not…ready for this, Donovan. In the past year I haven’t even kissed a man, let alone…” She could feel the heat stain her face and lowered her head. “You know.”
“Yeah.” That only made her all the more desirable. What he wanted, more than anything, was to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right. What he did was merely touch a hand to her hair. “Let’s see what the kids are up to.”
They walked to the front room, where Taylor was playing with several colorful baskets.
Cory turned from Donovan’s desk and held up the thick manila folder. His eyes were stormy; his voice, accusing. “What are you doing with all this stuff about my dad?”
Donovan glanced at Taylor, happily playing, and took care with his words. “I agreed to look into the case.”
“Why? Are you a lawyer?”
“No. But I have some connections to people who can tell me things they might not be willing to tell your mother or your uncle.”
Cory glanced beyond Donovan to his mother. “Did you know about this?”
She nodded. “Your uncle Champ told me, after he approached Donovan about doing this.” She took a step toward him. “I hope you’re not disappointed in me, Cory.”
The boy turned and took his time replacing the file. When he turned back, some of the anger had drained away. “I don’t mind, Mom. But I want to talk to Donovan. Alone.”
She looked concerned. Still, she didn’t know how to refuse his request. “All right.” She turned to her daughter. “Taylor, put Donovan’s things back now, honey. It’s time to go.”
“Okay.” The little girl replaced the baskets, then took her mother’s hand.
When they glanced at Donovan, he said, “Cory and I will be out in a minute.”
Mother and daughter walked out onto the porch.
When they were alone, Cory said, “I’m glad you’re going to prove that my dad wasn’t a thief.”
“That isn’t what I agreed to do, Cory.”
The boy looked puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“I agreed to do some digging. But there are no guarantees. You need to understand that I could very well find out things about your dad that you and your mother would rather not know.”
He saw the quick flash of fear. But then, in the blink of an eye, Cory lifted his chin. “I know what everybody thinks about my dad. But I know he was innocent.”
Donovan found himself fervently hoping, for the boy’s sake, that it was true. And maybe for his own sake, as well, he realized. Because the truth was, he was falling a little in love with the entire Brady family. The last thing he wanted was to become the bearer of bad tidings.
He dropped an arm around Cory’s shoulders as he opened the door. “Come on. I’ll drive all of you home.”
Overhearing him, Andi paused on the top step of the porch, with Taylor in her arms. “Don’t be silly. Then you’ll have to walk all the way back here in the dark.”
“I don’t mind.” He took Taylor from her and carried her to the van. “It’s a perfect night for a walk. Besides,” he added with a wink, “it’ll take my mind off what I’d rather be doing.”
Andi knew she was blushing and felt a wave of gratitude for the darkness.
But as Donovan drove them down the hill, she watched his hands, so sure and steady on the wheel. The thought of those hands holding her sent a fresh series of tremors along her spine.
She was grateful for the children. Without them along, she wasn’t quite sure just how strong she would be against the temptation to take this game into extra innings.
But it w
asn’t a game, she reminded herself. With a man like Donovan Lassiter it was deadly serious.
Chapter 8
“Hi, Donovan.” As he stepped out the back door with a sack of birdseed, Cory came walking around the side of his house, with Taylor trailing behind.
Just seeing them chased away the gloom that often came creeping over him in the night. It had been a curse he’d carried since childhood. “‘Morning. What’s up?”
“We came to see if you needed help with anything.”
Now that they’d discovered just how many grand adventures he could describe, the two children had begun spending more time at his house than they did at their own. If only, he thought, their mother would do the same. But since the night of their kiss, she’d been scrupulously avoiding him.
Not that he could blame her. This past year had been a turbulent one for Andi Brady, and she needed time to sort through her emotions. But with every passing day, seeing her in her yard in a pair of sexy shorts or waving as he walked to the mailbox, he could feel the tug of desire growing. Seeing her wasn’t enough. He wanted to touch her. To devour her. To fill himself with her until he was sated.
He pulled himself back from his thoughts and looked up with a smile. “Thanks. I guess I could use some help.” He held out the sack so they could dig their hands in. “Just toss some out there. The birds will find it.”
“I brought some carrots for my woodchuck, too.” Taylor dug into her pocket and came up with a handful.
“You’re going to spoil him. Pretty soon he’ll forget how to hunt for his own food.”
“That’s what Mama said. She said wild things shouldn’t be treated the same as tame ones.”
Especially wild men, he thought with a frown. No wonder she was keeping her distance. He’d scared her. Hadn’t she said as much? And why not? He was well aware of the fact that he was barely civilized.
“Think we could go for another hike in the woods?” Cory tossed a handful of seed.
“I guess so. If your mom says it’s all right with her.”
The boy brightened. “How about this afternoon?”
“Works for me.” Donovan closed the bag and stored it in a cabinet. “How about Taylor?”
“She’s too small. Besides, Mom’s taking her to the dentist.”
The little girl shivered before shrinking behind her brother’s back.
To help her overcome her fears, Donovan arched a brow. “Would your dentist happen to be Doc Carrington?”
Taylor looked at Cory for confirmation. The boy nodded.
Donovan winked at Taylor. “I heard he gives out really neat toys.”
“He does?” The little girl’s smile returned. “I’d rather get a new toy than go walking through some old icky forest.”
“Not me.” Cory grabbed his sister’s hand. “Come on. We’ve got to run.” He called over his shoulder, “If Mom says yes, I’ll be back.”
“Okay. I’ll be here.” Donovan watched them go, before going off to hunt up his hiking boots.
He glanced fleetingly at his computer, then decided he hadn’t wanted to work today, anyway. There’d be time enough for his book another day. Besides, he was actually looking forward to hiking. He enjoyed the solitude of the forest. It was one of the things that had lured him to this location in the first place.
An hour later he and Cory were deep in the woods and heading toward the waterfall.
“My dad and I used to go hiking on weekends.” Cory scrambled down a narrow slope.
“Where?”
“We started with a park not far from our house. Then we hiked across some of the battlefields. My dad knew everything. The names of the battles and the generals. He was going to take me running with him when I got bigger.” He glanced at Donovan. “Did you know that my dad ran track in college and almost made the Olympic team?”
“Yeah. I read that in his file. That’s pretty impressive, isn’t it?” It occurred to Donovan that Cory seemed relieved to know that he could speak freely to someone about his father. Now that he knew Donovan was working on his father’s case, he felt free to confide his feelings. “You think you’ll run track, too?”
Cory shrugged. “My dad thought soccer was my sport. But I don’t know. I’m a pretty good runner. You think I could take after him?”
“You might. But it’s tough trying to live up to someone else’s successes. Why not figure out what you’re dying to do and then do it?”
“That’s what my dad said. He told me I should always follow my dream. That’s what he finally did. He said he spent years trying to live up to my grandfather’s plans for him. That’s why my dad followed him into the banking business. But my dad always wanted to try something on his own and make it a success.”
Donovan felt a prickle of unease. Would Adam Brady have gone so far as to steal in order to prove to his father that he’d been right to leave the family business? Would he do whatever it took to make a success of his gamble, to justify himself to his family?
In his research of the criminal mind he’d learned that greed wasn’t the only factor driving men to commit crime. Guilt could also be a strong motive.
“Wow.”
His thoughts were interrupted by Cory’s shout as they caught their first glimpse of the waterfall.
The boy pointed. “Look at that, Donovan. A rainbow.”
Sunlight filtered through the leaves of towering trees to glisten on the spray of water, creating a colorful rainbow.
Donovan took his camera from around his neck and handed it to Cory. “Why don’t you get a shot of that?”
“You mean it?”
Donovan nodded. “Take your time and frame the shot.”
“What does that mean? ‘Frame the shot’?”
“Look through the lens and keep moving back and forth until you see exactly what you want to see in your picture. Then hold it level and get a feel for how the scene will look when it’s printed out.”
The boy took a moment to adjust the viewfinder before snapping off a series of pictures. After handing back the camera, he climbed up on the big rock for a better view.
Donovan climbed up beside him, and the two of them stretched out, enjoying the call of birds, the rush of water, the peacefulness of the setting.
“On a day like this,” Donovan remarked, “you’d almost think you were on a deserted island, with nobody around for miles.”
Cory looked over at the man who lay faceup, eyes closed behind his sunglasses. “Were you ever on a deserted island?”
“Once or twice.”
“What did you do there?”
“Mostly I took soil samples.”
“What for?”
“To see if there had been any weapons tested recently.”
“You mean like guns and missiles?”
Donovan sat up and watched a pair of ducks swimming in lazy circles around the pond. “There are other weapons. Other ways to destroy an opponent. Some leaders don’t care how many innocent people are hurt, as long as they stay in power. They’ll even develop and test chemicals or germs as weapons, without regard to their effect on fish, birds, animals and eventually people.”
Although Cory was too young to understand the enormity of such weapons, he could tell, by the change in Donovan’s tone, that this man cared deeply about such things.
“Are those leaders bad people?”
“Very bad.”
“Did you stop them?”
Donovan looked over at the boy. “I’d like to think I did. But in my line of work I was rarely around long enough to learn the answer.”
“Where did you go?”
“Off to another island or mountaintop or forest or country. Wherever I was needed.”
“You never got to stay and fight the bad men?”
“That’s for soldiers. And sometimes for ordinary people who decide they can’t take any more. But I always thought I was doing my share by finding proof of the crimes in the first place.” He lowered his voice. “Look.”
The boy turned to see a doe and fawn step up to the water’s edge. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Donovan slip the camera from around his neck and squeeze off several quick shots in succession.
They remained silent until the deer retreated, blending once more into the forest.
Cory turned to Donovan. “How’d you learn to snap pictures so fast, without even looking through the lens?”
“I guess it comes from practice. Sometimes, when I sensed danger, I often had to squeeze off shots with no time to frame them. I learned to trust my instincts.” He handed the camera over to Cory. “Why don’t you keep this for a while and practice.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Go ahead.”
The boy was so delighted he jumped up and began snapping shots of everything that caught his interest. An odd-shaped boulder. A tree growing out of the trunk of a fallen log. A family of geese that circled the pond before coming in for a noisy landing.
They followed a new trail back, and Donovan showed Cory how to read a compass and how to mark his trail.
“If you don’t want anyone else to follow your trail, you have to use something that looks natural to anyone except you.”
“How?” the boy asked.
Donovan pointed to some stones. “It could be as simple as setting one stone on top of another, or lining them up like arrows to point the way.” He reached up to some low-handing branches of a tree. “You could use a pocket knife to make a notch in the trunk of a tree, or, if you thought you were being followed, you could simply bend the twigs in a pattern that nobody else would notice.” As he was speaking he twisted a supple young twig into a simple figure eight.
“Wow.” Cory was impressed. “Have you ever been lost?”
“Yeah.” Donovan thought back over the years. After losing his father, he’d been a lost child and had spent years trying to find himself. Even the name he’d given the group of soldiers of fortune who had been his friends had reflected that loss. “But I’ve always believed I could find my way back. And you can, too, Cory. You just have to believe in yourself.”
As they stepped out of the woods and started along the gravel path toward their homes, Cory lifted the strap from around his neck. “Here’s your camera. Thanks for letting me use it.”
Return of the Prodigal Son Page 8
