by Judy Duarte
After nearly two months, Carla had hightailed it out of his place, leaving only the stupid screen by the bed and a couple bottles of cleaning products under the sink—products Nick refused to use on principle alone, he supposed.
But it was his place. His life. And he didn’t need anyone trying to make him into something he wasn’t.
Trying to change his focus, he asked, “Want to go for a walk?”
“Sure.”
He took Hailey by the hand—a move that surprised him. What was with his urge to touch her?
When she didn’t balk, he quit thinking about it and led her to the sidewalk along Tidal Way and to the variety of shops that sold everything from T-shirts to antiques.
They stopped for a while in front of Granny’s Fudge Kitchen, looking through the window to watch a guy stir melted chocolate in a huge copper pot that sat over a stove of some kind.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” Hailey said. “It’s so peaceful and quaint.”
“You’re welcome. I figured you needed a change of scenery.”
“And you didn’t?”
Yeah, he did, too. Hospitals always made him edgy. And with Harry going under the knife soon…well, today probably hadn’t been easy on either of them.
“I guess we both needed a break.” He glanced to the west, watched the sunlight glisten upon the surface of the water, heard a gull cry out as it swooped near the shore. “Whenever I get a chance to escape from the real world, I head for the beach.”
“When I want to get away,” she said, “I go out to a little fishing hole near my house in Walden.”
He found it hard to imagine pretty, fastidious Hailey handling bait or gutting a couple of walleyes. “Do you fish?”
“No. I just take a book, pack a lunch, sit near the shore and read.” Her voice held a wistful tone, and her gaze snagged his. “Walden is a great little town. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
That was yet another reason a relationship with a guy born and bred in southern California wouldn’t work.
They continued along for a while, glancing at a window display of Christmas ornaments with a small, fake tree boasting a seaside motif, its branches chock-full of shells, starfish and miniature lighthouses that blinked on and off.
They didn’t talk much.
Both were lost in their thoughts, Nick supposed. Funny thing was, he kind of enjoyed walking like this, lazy and aimless, looking in store windows. Having Hailey at his side.
Nick had always remained emotionally distant from women in the past, but Hailey was different. His concern for her, of course, was due to her relationship with Harry. And in addition to that, those disclosures they’d shared on that snowy night in Minnesota had given them some kind of bond. Revelations from the past did that sometimes.
But thoughts of that snowbound night triggered another memory. And Nick couldn’t shake the desire to make love to Hailey one last time. To feel the heat, the way their bodies had melded. The way they had climaxed together, then held each other throughout the night.
Sex didn’t get much better than that.
But a sexual relationship was out of the question, and there was no need to complicate things between him and Hailey any further. So he did his damnedest to shrug off an unwelcome arousal.
He glanced at the woman beside him, noted that she, too, had been quiet. Introspective.
Unable to quell his curiosity, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” Hailey told him.
But that couldn’t have been any further from the truth. At one time she’d fantasized about being part of a real family. About having lots of happy voices in her home. That’s why she’d planned to create a family of her own.
Well, now she had one—sort of. That was, of course, assuming a remote, long-distance relationship with Harry was possible.
But did she want one?
Hailey had lived for years believing she didn’t need a father. And maybe she still didn’t.
But the sorry fact was, Harry was the only grandparent her child would have.
Didn’t her baby need a grandpa?
Maybe so, but telling Harry about the baby would make it darn near impossible to keep the secret from Nick.
She stole a glance at the man beside her. Should she tell him? Or keep the news of the baby to herself?
Having struggled with the dilemma for weeks, she was still no closer to an answer.
A childish squeal and laughter rang out ahead, drawing Hailey’s attention. A man, woman and child—a family no doubt—rollerbladed along the boardwalk.
“Daddy, watch me,” a little girl in pigtails called out. “I didn’t fall down for a long time!”
“You’re doing great, sweetheart.” The man cast a smile at his wife, then took her hand as they skated along.
Hailey touched her tummy, flat now but soon to expand.
That’s what she wanted for her baby. Happiness. A normal family life. A mom and dad. A dog and a cat waiting at home.
She glanced at Nick, saw that his eyes were on the skaters, too.
Did she dare broach the subject? Find out how he felt about kids and picket fences? She tucked a fly-away wisp of hair behind her ear, trying to keep the pesky strand in place. “They look like a nice family. Don’t you think?”
Nick merely nodded.
Unwilling to give up, she pushed a little further. “Can you ever see yourself doing something like that? You know, taking your son or daughter out to play?”
The question took Nick aback. He again looked at the family, and although it pleased him to see the little girl so happy and to see parents spending quality time with their child, he’d never harbored any dumb idea of having a kid of his own. “Nope. I’m not cut out to be a husband or a father.”
“You don’t want kids?” she asked, her eyes snagging his and making him feel as if he should have lied.
He opted for the truth. “Kids deserve a lot more than what I could ever give them. Besides, I like my life just the way it is.”
Uncomplicated. No one to harp at him and make him feel guilty for not being something he wasn’t.
She didn’t answer, and he had a feeling he’d disappointed her, although he wasn’t sure why.
Nick didn’t hold any fantasies about life. His early years had been a nightmare, to say the least. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a kid if I had one. Hell, I spent the biggest part of my childhood trying to find places to go, reasons to avoid going home. What do I know about kids or normal families?”
“Parenting should come naturally,” she said, her voice soft yet laden with emotion, “although I know it doesn’t.”
He figured she was thinking of her mom’s inability to provide the right kind of home for her as a child. “Not everyone should be a parent. My stepdad’s natural inclination was to knock me across the room for the hell of it.”
“I suppose parenting, as well as conflict resolution, takes some training, especially if a kid didn’t have a good example.” She turned, facing him, eyes probing his in a way that reached somewhere deep in his heart. “But you said Harry and Kay had a good marriage, that they showed you what a family was like.”
They had, but that didn’t mean Nick was going to be any good at it. He might try to emulate his mentor in many ways, but not as a family man. If he tried, he knew he’d fall short of the mark. “I’m not like Harry.”
“Well,” Hailey said, slowing her steps. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go home.”
“Sure. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just tired.”
Maybe so, but Nick had the feeling he hadn’t told her what she wanted to hear. But who could argue with the truth?
Nick wasn’t cut out to be a husband or a father. And there was no reason to pretend he was.
Hailey didn’t know why Nick’s admission hurt the way it had. It’s not as though she ever really harbored any kind of belief that the two of them had a
future together.
Her life was in Minnesota. And his was in California.
Yet, as senseless as it all was, she felt like crying for no reason at all.
As they climbed from the car and headed toward the elevator that would take them to his loft, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
She supposed it hurt to know that, should Hailey decide to tell Nick she was pregnant, her baby’s father wouldn’t want to be a part of their child’s life.
Memories of the past, of her own disappointments as a little girl, came back to taunt her. To remind her that her son or daughter would face some of the same pain—all because the father of her baby didn’t want to be strapped with a wife and kid.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he said.
“I’ll be just fine.”
And she would. Everything would work out. Once she went back home. To Minnesota.
Nick stepped in front of her to unlock the door, then waited as she entered the spacious but cluttered apartment. Before she could slip off her shoes or plop on the sofa, his cell phone rang.
“Granger,” he answered. His eyes narrowed, his expression grew serious.
Was it the hospital? Kay? Hailey stood at his side, unable to move.
“I’ll be right there.”
I’ll be right there? Not we? Was it a personal call having nothing to do with Harry?
Nick shut off the phone and slipped it back into place on his belt, then turned to her. “I’ve got to go down to the precinct. It’s a big case I’ve been working on. And even though I asked for time off, my job isn’t like—”
She reached for his arm, stroked the sleeve of his worn leather jacket. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.”
“You do?” he asked.
If Nick were her husband or lover, she might feel different. She might resent having him called away at any time of the day or night. But she had no claims on him. “I know your job places a lot of demands on you.”
“Maybe so, but I feel kind of guilty leaving you alone in a strange city on your first day in town.”
“Don’t give it a second thought. It’s not like I’m on vacation.” She tossed him a smile, yet felt her eyes grow misty.
For goodness sake. What was wrong with her? It had to be hormones.
“I still hate leaving you alone,” he said.
“I don’t need to be entertained.” She tried to break free of the contradictory swing of emotions that rattled her foundation.
Nick caught her jaw in his hand, his gaze searching her face for something.
Sincerity? Shoot, she understood his line of work better than he realized.
“I know it’s not like we have a thing,” Nick said. “Well…you know.”
His thumb caressed her cheek, sending a flutter of warmth along her skin, making her momentarily wish they did have a thing, whatever that might be.
But thinking like that was crazy. Foolish. And bound to screw things up in her otherwise organized world.
She stepped away, from his touch, his gaze. His scent. There was no point in thinking about the attraction between them. Or at least the star-crossed attraction she felt for a man who would turn her life upside down.
A relationship with Nick Granger would crash and burn.
“Go on,” she said, waving him off. “I’ll watch television. Or take a nap. Don’t worry about me.”
For a moment she thought he might brush his lips across hers, give her a kiss before leaving. But he cleared his throat and said goodbye.
“Take care of yourself.” She followed him to the door with a pasted-on smile, yet struggled with another senseless urge to cry—for no reason at all.
It was just a case of the weepies, she decided, brought on by hormones.
Why else would she feel so sad and alone?
It’s not as if she didn’t know how to take care of herself. She’d been on her own for ages.
Damn those hormones. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes, trying hard to hide the emotion from Nick.
And she did.
But when the door closed behind him, the tears slid down her cheeks.
For no reason at all.
Chapter Eight
By six o’clock that evening, Hailey had grown tired of looking at Nick’s clutter, even with a big-screen television and surround sound to distract her.
She started by straightening the magazines on the glass-top coffee table, which, she realized, would look a lot nicer without water rings, smudges and a film of dust. So, she went to the kitchen to find something to wipe down the tabletop, only to be sidetracked by a sinkful of dirty dishes. There weren’t that many, but they’d sat in the kitchen until the food had dried like speckles of colorful concrete.
While two plates, a bowl, three glasses and some odd pieces of flatware soaked in hot, soapy water, she wiped down the counters, gathering more dust than crumbs. And, before she knew it, she was elbow deep in a spring cleaning that should have taken place last year, or the one before that.
She didn’t know what compelled her to open the refrigerator—curiosity, probably—but she clicked her tongue when she studied the stark contents.
A quart of milk. A take-out container from a Chinese restaurant. An opened case of Mexican beer with a couple of bottles missing. A jar of jalapeño peppers. Mustard and ketchup. Hot sauce. And a partial cube of butter that had, over time, become a refrigerator odor eater.
No bread, no fruit. No cheese. What did this guy eat when he wanted a snack?
She peeked into the white carton decorated with a red Oriental dragon and scrunched her nose at the dried, shriveled contents. God only knew what it had once been. Maybe something with noodles, but definitely not edible. She tossed the entire container into the trash can.
Better check the date on the jug of milk, she told herself. November 2. Yuck. You’d think an observant detective would pay attention to things like best-when-used-by dates.
Hailey went to the sink and, holding her breath, poured out the milk, watching big white clumps that looked like cottage cheese plop into the drain. Thank goodness her earlier bout of morning sickness had passed.
Sheesh. What a mess.
Hailey liked things tidy, liked a home to be cozy and warm, something Nick didn’t seem to care about. It wasn’t as though his place was uninhabitable. But obviously he spent very little time here.
She recalled the words she’d told the students who frequented the school library, whenever they squabbled with each other and came to her for advice. Just because someone isn’t like you, doesn’t mean they’re not special in their own way.
It might be best if she put her own philosophy to work in this case. Hailey and Nick wanted different things out of life, and they didn’t appear to have anything in common.
Except a baby.
She blew out a ragged sigh. She certainly couldn’t build her hopes on a child drawing them together.
Nick didn’t want kids, a wife, a family.
She stooped to open the cupboard under the sink and found cleaning supplies in a nifty blue organizer similar to the one she used to tote along with her when she scrubbed at home.
Inside the carryall she found cleanser, springtime-scented bleach, lemon oil for the furniture and window spray.
Why on earth would Nick purchase this stuff if he had no intention of using it?
Tucked behind the can of cleanser, she found a pair of rubber gloves. Pink. Size small.
Jealousy, or something darn near like it, poked at her chest. Who was the woman who’d purchased this?
She told herself that whoever had placed the items under the sink—be it a lover or a hired cleaning lady—hadn’t used them in quite some time. And even if they’d been used yesterday, it didn’t matter. Hailey Conway had no claims on Nick Granger. And she didn’t want any.
She had high expectations for a marriage, for a home. Why, she and Nick would probably go ten rounds before an
y vows could be spoken.
Vows?
For goodness sake, that obtrusive thought must have been triggered by domestic drudgery. What was wrong with her? Hailey needed to focus on reality, not whimsy.
So she dug in and got busy, making the detective’s place sparkle and shine.
She scanned the once stale and dusty loft apartment, inhaling the clean, lemony scent, and hoped she hadn’t overstepped her boundaries, hoped that she hadn’t set herself up for a confrontation. Nick might not appreciate her cleaning his house. In fact, he might consider her efforts intrusive.
Well, it was too late now. She’d just have to face the consequences of his irritation when he got home.
What had he said?
I like my life the way it is.
Well, she liked the life she’d created for herself, too.
Except it would be nice to have a husband, a helpmate. A father for her baby.
Again the past cropped up on her, taunting her with memories of growing up without a dad, without a mom, too, she supposed. But her baby’s life would be different. She’d see to that.
Hailey would be the best single mother in the whole world. And someday, God willing, she’d find her baby a wonderful stepfather, a man who was willing to take his family on a Saturday-afternoon picnic, who’d build a swing set and climbing structure in the backyard. A loving, happy man who would sit with Hailey in the front row and cheer when the curtain lifted during the Walden Elementary School spring program.
Who needed Nick Granger?
Not Hailey.
And not her baby.
Nick parked the Jeep in his allotted space, then proceeded to the elevator, tired but relieved. They’d finally caught up with Joey Kramer—that no-good piece of crap—and gotten a confession.
The bastard known as the Downtown Rapist would spend the rest of his life behind bars, thanks to the department’s careful handling of the case. Search warrants had been obtained and served appropriately, Miranda rights had been read. The investigation and apprehension had been textbook perfect. And the D.A.’s office was as pleased as the guys on the force.
Joey Kramer would be doing serious time.
