No help for it—she searched until she found the spare key, hidden under one of the flowerpots on her porch. It’d been there for so many years she wasn’t sure it would work.
Luckily it did. As quietly as she could, Meg slipped into the house.
She climbed the stairs and tiptoed into her room. She undressed without turning on the light and was in bed minutes later.
The neighbor’s German shepherd barked, obviously from inside their house, and Lindsey looked up from painting her toenails. “There it is again,” she said.
“I heard it, too,” Brenda said.
“Wolf doesn’t bark without a reason.”
Ever curious, Brenda walked over to the bedroom window and peered into the yard below. After a moment, she whirled around. “There’s someone in your backyard,” she whispered, wide-eyed.
“This isn’t the time for jokes,” Lindsey said, continuing to paint her toenails a bright shade of pink. “We were discussing my mother, remember?”
Brenda didn’t move away from the window. “There is someone there.”
“Who?”
“It’s a man…. Oh, my goodness, come and look.”
The panic in her friend’s voice made Lindsey catapult to a standing position. Walking on her heels to keep her freshly painted toenails off the carpet, she hobbled toward the window.
Brenda was right; she did see someone in the yard. “Turn the lights off,” she hissed.
Lindsey’s heart lodged in her throat as she recognized the dark form. “It’s Steve Conlan!” She saw him clearly in the moonlight; he wasn’t even making any attempt to hide.
“What’s that in his hand?”
Lindsey focused her attention on the object Steve was carrying. It looked like a purse. Gasping, she twisted away from the window and placed her back against the wall. She gestured wildly toward the phone.
“What’s wrong?” Brenda cried. “Are you having an asthma attack?”
Lindsey shook her head. “He broke in to the house and stole my mother’s purse.” Brenda handed her the phone and Lindsey dialed 911 as fast as her nervous fingers would let her.
She barely gave the operator time to answer. “There’s a man in our backyard,” she whispered frantically. “He took my mother’s purse.”
The emergency operator seemed to have a thousand questions she wanted Lindsey to answer. Lindsey did the best she could.
“He’s a convicted felon…. I can give you the name of his probation officer if you want. Just hurry!” she pleaded.
“Officers have been dispatched.”
“Please, please hurry.” Lindsey was afraid that unless the police arrived within the next minute Steve would make a clean getaway.
Steve debated whether he should leave Meg’s purse on the front porch. It would be easy enough to tuck it inside the mailbox, but then she might not find it until much later the next day.
He walked around the house to the backyard, thinking there might be someplace he could put it where she’d find it in the morning.
There wasn’t.
The only thing he’d managed to do was rouse the neighbor’s dog. He would’ve rung the doorbell and given her the silly thing if there’d been any lights on, but apparently she’d gone to bed. He wasn’t especially eager to confront Lindsey, either. Not yet.
He still hadn’t made up his mind, when he heard a noise from behind him.
“Police! Freeze!”
Was this a joke? Maybe not—whoever it was sounded serious. He froze.
“Put the purse down and turn around slowly.”
Once more Steve did as instructed. With his arms raised, he turned to find two police officers with their weapons drawn and pointed at him.
“Looks like we caught ourselves a burglar,” one of them said, switching on a huge flashlight.
“Caught him redhanded,” the other agreed.
Six
“If you’d let me explain,” Steve said, squinting against the light at the two officers. A dog barked ferociously in the next-door neighbor’s yard. A man in pajamas had let the dog out and joined the audience.
“Do you always carry a woman’s purse?”
“It belongs to—”
“My mother.”
Although Steve couldn’t see her face, he recognized the righteous tones as belonging to Meg’s daughter. Lindsey and her friend stood beside the two officers and looked as if they’d gladly provide the rope for a hanging.
“Wolf.” The neighbour silenced the German shepherd, but made no move to go inside.
“My name’s Steve Conlan,” Steve said, striving to come across as sane and reasonable. This was, after all, merely a misunderstanding.
“I wouldn’t believe him if I were you,” Lindsey advised the officers. “It might not be his real name.” Then in lower tones she added, “He has a criminal record. I happen to know for a fact that he’s a convicted felon.”
“I’m not a felon,” Steve growled. “And it is my real name. Officers, if you’d give me the opportunity to—”
“His parole officer’s name is Earl Markham.” Lindsey cut him off, her voice indignant. “He told me himself!”
“I know Earl Markham,” the younger of the two policemen said. “And he is a parole officer.”
“I know him, too,” Steve barked impatiently. “We went to high school together.”
“Yeah, right.”
The scorn in Lindsey’s voice reminded Steve of Meg when she was furious with him. Like mother, like daughter, it seemed.
“If you’d let me explain.” Steve tried again, struggling to stay calm. It wasn’t easy with two guns aimed at him and a man in pajamas clutching the collar of a huge dog—thank goodness for the fence. Not to mention a couple of teenage girls accusing him of who knew what.
“Don’t listen to him,” the other girl was saying. “He lies! He had us believing all kinds of things, and all because he thought we were Lindsey’s mother.”
A short silence followed her announcement. “Say that again?” the older officer muttered. “How well do you know this man?”
“My name’s Steve Conlan.” Steve tried yet again.
“Which may or may not be his real name.” This, too, came from Lindsey’s friend.
“If you’ll let me get my wallet, I’ll prove who I am,” Steve assured them. He made an effort to sound vaguely amused by the whole situation. He lowered one arm and started to move his hand toward his back pocket.
“Keep your hands up where I can see them,” the older cop snapped.
“What’s going on?” The voice drifted down from the upstairs area of the house. A sweetly feminine, slightly groggy voice.
Steve glanced up, and to his great relief saw Meg’s face framed in the second-floor window.
“Meg,” Steve shouted, grateful that she’d finally heard the commotion. “Tell these men who I am, so they can put their weapons away.”
“Steve?” she cried, shocked. “What are you doing at my house?”
“Do you know this man?” the cop asked, tilting his head back and shouting up at Meg.
“Ma’am, would you mind stepping outside?” the second officer asked. He mumbled something Steve couldn’t hear under his breath.
“I’ll be right down,” Meg told them, and Steve watched her turn away from the window.
“Have you been sneaking around seeing my mother?”
“Lindsey, it’s not like it seems,” Steve said, experiencing a twinge of guilt at the way he’d misled the girl. He’d planned to talk to Meg’s daughter soon, but he hadn’t intended to do it in front of the police.
“I’d be more interested to find out why he has your mother’s purse, if I were you,” the second teenager said.
“I already know why he’s got Mom’s purse,” Lindsey said loudly. “He stole it.”
“No, I didn’t!” Steve rolled his eyes. “I was trying to return it.”
“You have my purse?” This was from Meg. “Oh, hello, Mr. Robinson. Hi, W
olf. I think everything’s under control here.” Man and dog went back inside a moment later.
“My purse!” she said again.
Steve relaxed and lowered his arms. “You left it in my car,” he said.
“Thank goodness you found it.” Meg, at least, displayed the appropriate amount of appreciation. “I didn’t know when I’d get it back.”
Now that the flashlight wasn’t blinding him and the officers had returned the guns to their holsters, Steve saw Meg for the first time. In fact, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She’d thrown a flimsy cotton robe over her baby-doll pajamas but despite that, they revealed a length of sleek, smooth thigh whenever she moved. The top was low-cut and the robe gaped open and…Meg grabbed the lapels and held them together with both hands. It didn’t help much.
Steve was afraid he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Meg’s attire. Both officers looked approvingly in her direction. Steve was about to ask the younger of the two to wipe the grin off his face, but he held his breath and counted backward from ten.
He got to five. “Lindsey, go get your mother a coat.”
“I don’t have to take orders from you,” the girl snapped.
Meg blinked and seemed to realize that despite the robe, such as it was, her nightwear left little to the imagination.
In an apparent effort to deflect a shouting match, one officer asked Lindsey a few questions, while the other engaged Steve and Meg in conversation.
“You know this man?” he asked Meg.
“Yes, of course. His name’s Steve Conlan.”
“Steve Conlan.” The officer made note of it on a small pad. “That’s what he said earlier.”
Steve pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, silently thrusting it out. The cop glanced at it and nodded.
“He didn’t steal my purse, either,” Meg went on.
Steve cast the other man an I-told-you-so look, but said nothing.
“You went out with Steve behind my back?” Lindsey cried, peering around the second policeman. Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe you’d do something like that—after our talk and everything.”
Meg cast her a guilty look. “We’ll discuss this later.”
But Lindsey wasn’t going to be so easily dissuaded. “After our talk, I really, really thought I was getting through to you. Now I see how wrong I was.”
“If you’d give me a chance to explain…” Steve began, wanting to avoid an argument between Meg and her daughter.
Static from the police officer’s walkie-talkie was followed by a muffled voice. The two men were obviously being dispatched to another location.
“Everything okay here?” the policeman asked Meg.
“It’s fine.”
“Young lady?”
Lindsey folded her arms and pointed her nose toward the night sky. “All I can say is that my mother’s a serious disappointment to me.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”
“I didn’t think you could,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought better of her than this—sneaking out at night to see a man of…of low moral fiber.”
“Lindsey!”
“Why don’t we all go inside and discuss this,” Steve suggested. He felt more than a little ridiculous standing in Meg’s yard, and he was eager to clear the air between Lindsey and him.
“I have nothing to say to either of you,” Lindsey said. She marched into the house, with Brenda scurrying behind.
Steve watched them stomp off in single file and released a deep breath. He was about to apologize for having made such a mess of things, when Meg whirled around to face him.
“I can’t believe you!”
Steve ran his fingers through his hair. Meg didn’t seem to grasp that this ordeal hadn’t exactly been a pleasure for him, either.
“I apologize, Meg.” He did feel bad about all the trouble he’d caused, but he’d only been trying to help. When he’d found her purse, returning it had seemed the best thing to do. He didn’t want her wondering where it was, and he’d honestly thought he could do it without ending up in jail.
“How dare you tell my daughter to get me a coat.”
Steve’s head jerked up. His throat tightened with the strength of his anger. “I nearly got myself arrested—thanks to your daughter, I might add—and you’re upset because I objected to you traipsing around in front of the neighborhood half-naked?”
Meg opened her mouth and then closed it.
“Okay,” he amended, “you are wearing a robe, although it’s not much of one. Neither of those cops could take their eyes off you. I supposed you enjoyed the attention.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I came downstairs as fast as I could, in order to help you.”
“You call parading in front of those men like that helping me? All I needed was for you to identify me so I could leave. That’s all.” His words grew louder. He was close to losing his cool and he knew it.
“I think you’d better go,” Meg said, pointing in the direction of the street. Steve noticed with satisfaction that her finger shook.
“I’m out of here,” he told her, “and not a minute too soon. You might have appreciated the embarrassment I endured trying to do you a favor, but I can see you don’t. Which is fine by me.”
“Like you didn’t embarrass me?” she shouted.
“You weren’t the one who had a gun pointed at you and a kid claiming you were a menace to society.”
“Lindsey was only repeating what you’d told her.” Meg pushed the hair away from her face, using both hands. “This isn’t working.”
“Wrong,” he said sharply. “It’s working all too well. You make me crazy, and I don’t like it.”
“But…”
“If I’m going to get arrested, I want it to be for someone who’s willing to acknowledge the trouble I’ve gone through for her.” Certain he was making no sense whatsoever, Steve stalked over to his car and drove away.
Meg squared her shoulders and drew her flimsy robe more tightly around her as she opened the screen door and walked back inside. The exhaust from Steve’s car lingered in the yard, reminding her how angry he’d been when he left.
She was angry, too. And confused.
It didn’t help to find Lindsey and Brenda sitting in the darkened living room waiting for her.
“You should both be in bed,” Meg told them.
“We want to talk to you first,” Lindsey announced, her hands folded on her knees.
“Not tonight,” she said shortly. “I’m tired and upset.”
“You!” Lindsey cried. “Brenda and I are exhausted, but that doesn’t matter. What does is that you broke your word.”
“I didn’t promise not to see Steve again,” Meg told her. She’d been careful about that.
Meg went back to the door and stood in front of the screen, half hoping Steve would return—not knowing what she’d say or do if he did.
“You’ve been sneaking out of the house to see him, haven’t you?”
Meg lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
“You have!” Lindsey was outraged. “When?”
Meg lifted the other shoulder.
“Can’t I trust you anymore?”
“Lindsey, Steve’s not exactly what he said he was.”
“I’ll just bet,” she muttered. “He’s got you fooled, hasn’t he? You’d believe anything he says because that’s what you want to believe. You’re so crazy about this guy you can’t even see what’s right in front of your face.”
If she’d been a little less upset herself, Meg might’ve been willing to set the record straight then and there. “We want to talk to you,” Meg told her daughter. “Steve and I, together, and explain everything.”
“Never!”
“Mrs. Remington, don’t let him fool you,” Brenda threw in dramatically.
“Let’s not worry about this now,” she said as defeat settled over her. “It’s late and I have to be at the store early in the morning.”
; Lindsey stood, her hands clenched at her sides. “I want you to promise me you won’t see him again.”
“Lindsey, please.”
“If you don’t, Mom, I’ll never be able to trust you again.”
“It’s time we had a little talk,” Nancy said, bringing a steaming cup of coffee to the breakfast table. After the night he’d had, the last thing Steve wanted was a tête-à-tête with his troublesome younger sister.
“No, thanks.”
Nancy left the table, taking the coffee with her.
“Hey, I want the coffee.”
“Oh.” She brought it back and slipped into the chair across from him. “Something’s bothering you.”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” He almost scalded his mouth in his eagerness to get some caffeine into his system.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” She stared at him with big brown eyes that suggested she could solve all his problems, if only he’d let her.
“No.”
“It has to do with that Meg, doesn’t it?”
Steve mumbled a noncommittal reply. He didn’t care to discuss Meg Remington just then. What he’d told Meg was the simple truth—she made him crazy. No woman had ever affected him as powerfully as she did. After the way they’d parted, he doubted they’d see each other again, and damn it all, that wasn’t what he wanted.
“She’s not the woman for you,” Nancy said, her eyes solemn.
“Nancy,” he said in a low voice, “don’t say any more. Okay?”
She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “You’re falling in love with her.”
“No, I’m not,” he muttered. Cradling the mug in both hands, he tried the coffee again, sipping from the edge to avoid burning his mouth.
“Thou protest too much,” she told him, with a sanctimonious sigh. “I’m afraid you’ve made it necessary for me to take matters into my own hands. Someone’s got to look out for your best interests.”
Steve lowered the mug and glared at his sister. “What did you do this time?”
“Nothing yet. There’s this woman, a widow I met on campus, and I’d like you to get to know her. She’s nothing like Meg, but as far as I’m concerned…”
Married in Seattle Page 23
