“Junior,” Maddy added in a too-cheery chirp.
“I thought I advised you against bringing a vulnerable infant out to this germ-laden barn. All these dirty animals.” Phyllis glared down her narrow nose and pulled her green corduroy coat tighter around her. No animals dirty or clean charged into the barn to attack her with dirt and germs.
“Bobby’s perfectly safe out here, Mrs. Patterson.” Maddy reached for the baby.
Holt hung on, gave her a small shake of his head. The last minutes had doused his arousal, but he’d still protect Bobby from these intruders. “Four generations of Donovans have been raised in and around this barn. Kids used to a little dirt don’t get sick as much as antiseptic kids. The boy’s fine. Perfect.”
Lombard scribbled notes on a small leather-bound notepad. “Shall we go in the house, Mr. Donovan? I’d like to ask you questions about yourself, the home environment you offer your nephew, and the...caretaker you’ve provided for him.”
“I’ll toddle along and leave you folks to your interview.” Phyllis sidled toward the door. “Judging from what I just witnessed, I wonder what influences this poor innocent might be subject to. This is a bachelor household, after all.” She waited, eyes narrowed.
Silence fell like a sack of grain.
Holt waited for some rebuttal to rise in his brain. How could he deny what they saw? The pair had walked in on them nearly swallowing each other. In another minute, he’d have had Maddy’s shirt off. He hadn’t been involved with anyone for some time, but deprivation was no excuse where Bobby’s welfare was concerned.
Olympia Lombard, aptly named for one who would deliver judgments from on high, stood pencil poised, dark eyes glittering with expectation and mouth pursed in disapproval.
Maddy slid her arm around Holt and snuggled close to him. She beamed a smile that nearly toppled him like a buzz-sawed tree. “Oh, but it won’t be a bachelor household for long. Holt and I are engaged.”
Chapter 9
Maddy held her breath for the explosion she could feel stiffening Holt’s body like fizzing dynamite. She braced herself, but no blast came.
The psychologist was smiling. Aha, the reason Holt merely swallowed. Hard. And kissed Maddy’s temple. Phyllis Patterson, on the other hand, would implode if her narrow features pinched any tighter.
He continued to stand there mute, his arms tight around the baby. She’d get more help from a stone statue.
In lieu of a cattle prod, she dug her thumb into his side. “Well, let’s go into the house. We don’t want to waste the good doctor’s time, do we, honey?”
He sucked in a breath. “Sure, good idea. We can do the interview inside.”
Maddy grabbed the infant seat and led the way. She’d to nail Holt later on why he hadn’t mentioned this appointment. Her heart galloped. What would the evaluator report to the judge? And Phyllis, what would she think? She didn’t leave as she’d indicated, not after Maddy’s impulsive announcement. She trooped inside the kitchen with them.
Holt secured the baby in his seat, and Maddy fetched his key ring toy, which Bobby promptly jammed in his mouth.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Donovan,” Dr. Lombard said, surveying the kitchen with a sharp eye. “I’d like to see the house first. The baby’s room and yours, and the living room.”
“I’ll stay here with Bobby,” Maddy said. She needed a breather.
She brewed coffee, decaf because no one needed the jolt of caffeine. Then she sat and played peek-a-boo with Bobby while Holt conducted the tour. She couldn’t discern the words from the deep rumbling of his voice, now modulated, no longer strangled with shock. Interspersed were murmurs and questions in the psychologist’s smooth voice. And disdainful humphs from Phyllis Patterson. Probably doing the white-glove test on the furniture and window ledges. When they finished with the downstairs, Dr. Lombard pointed to the drop-down door for the attic. The attic? What did she think might be hidden up there—a gambling casino? Drugs? Terrorists?
When Holt brought the women back to the kitchen, Maddy set out a plate of Espie’s sugar cookies and poured coffee. She crossed her fingers the sweet goodness of the cookies would soothe the visitors. Dr. Lombard and Phyllis sat on one side of the rectangular table across from Holt and Maddy. At the end, Bobby looked on from his padded seat, interest bright in his blue eyes.
Dr. Lombard set aside the legal pad on which she’d made notes during the house tour. From her briefcase she took a printed questionnaire. She started with basic information about first Holt and Bobby, and then Maddy. Education, work history, any marriages, legal problems—all very factual. From there the questions ranged from the absurdly personal to the insultingly invasive.
“I see beer in the refrigerator.” Dr. Lombard pursed her lips and looked back and forth between the two of them. “How much alcohol is consumed in this household?”
Holt cleared his throat. Clearly tamping down temper. “I’ve drunk two beers since I bought that six-pack over a week ago. As you can see, Maddy’s had none.”
The woman ticked off items on her questionnaire. She set down the pen and studied them over her reading glasses. “Ten days is a short time to be together and then engaged.”
“We’ve known each other since childhood.” Probably the psychologist already knew that and about her and Rob but maybe she asked to see what they would have to say about the past. “Old friends, you might say.” She stretched her mouth into a smile and crossed mental fingers it didn’t look too phony.
“Being here in the house—” Holt blinked twice as he apparently saw the implication of what he’d said, even though their belongings were in separate bedrooms “—and sharing old times and taking care of Bobby changed the friendship. To, um, more.”
“I see no ring on your finger, Ms. McCoy. Just how real is this engagement?”
“Hmph,” Phyllis huffed. “No wedding plans anytime soon, I’ll bet.”
Maddy linked her hands in her lap. Dammit, her spur-of-the-moment lie wasn’t going to save Bobby. “I don’t need a ring for our engagement to be real.”
Holt looped an arm around Maddy’s shoulder, and she gratefully leaned against him, breathing in his familiar smoky male scent. “We haven’t had time. The ranch and little Bobby keep both of us da— darn busy.”
“Brr-rrrt,” Bobby said, as if in confirmation. He rattled his key ring. When the toy clattered to the floor, he squealed, ready to play his favorite game. He dropped a toy; Maddy or Holt retrieved it. Pretty smart for an infant so young. Good timing, Bobby. She scooped up the key ring.
Phyllis Patterson swooped over and plucked up the baby, holding him tightly to her. She jiggled him up and down and glared at Maddy.
The germ issue again, the old biddy. Smiling sweetly, she carried the key ring to the sink. “You can’t give it back to him yet, Mrs. Patterson, not until I wash it.”
When she saw the evaluator write a note on her yellow pad, she chalked up a mental point for their side. Bobby’s little face crumpled and turned red. Uh oh. In a moment, he’d scream bloody murder. Keeping an eye on him, she quickly washed the key toy, but handing it to him now wouldn’t stop the coming storm.
Holt’s jaw worked as his gaze sharpened on the building meltdown. He pushed his chair back, ready to rescue Bobby. “Dr. Lombard, what if we were getting married...soon?”
The psychologist leaned forward. “Are you getting married?”
Phyllis’s mouth pruned. Waiting for his reply, she was oblivious to Bobby’s distress. Tears filled his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his little fists in fury as his lungs fired up a piercing wail. Phyllis patted his back and tried to rock him, but he would not be calmed or mollified. His high-pitched cries were enough to spook cattle on the next ranch.
“Well, we haven’t set a date.” Holt’s brows scrunched together, and a vein in his neck throbbed. He reached for Bobby, but Phyllis backed away, shaking her head.
Oh God, he’s terrified he’ll lose Bobby. She couldn’t let that happen. “What if
we were married?” Maddy raised her voice to be heard over Bobby’s howls. “What would that mean for the baby? Would it make Holt’s case easier?”
Dr. Lombard’s gaze flicked from Bobby, shrieking and straining in the arms of his increasingly distraught grandmother, to Holt, then to Maddy. A pensive expression on her face, she removed her glasses and tapped the earpiece on her papers. She pushed to her feet. “It’s not my decision, of course. Judge Gilbert will examine all the facts, including my report. But I believe, yes, a marriage would make a difference.”
*****
“Engaged? Engaged? Getting married? One hell of a crazy idea. You must have...must have been into the damn horse liniment!” Sputtering, Holt dragged Maddy by the elbow onto the porch.
Her eardrums smarted at his accusation. Good thing Bobby was in his crib and out of earshot. She pasted on a smile and waved as the custody evaluator drove away, followed by Phyllis Patterson’s sedan. “You didn’t rush to deny it.”
“How could I? Denial would have made a bad situation worse. What a stupid idea. McCoy, why couldn’t you have held your tongue?”
She gave a huff of indignation. The spur-of-the-moment announcement wasn’t her finest moment. And she wouldn’t analyze why that particular idea popped out of her mouth. Not now anyway. “They caught us red-handed, or should I say red-lipped? I didn’t hear you offering any brilliant ideas. As far as I could tell, you’d gone as mute as a mime. When you finally found your voice, you added more fiction. And you could’ve warned me they were coming.”
“The reason I came to the barn was to tell you about the appointment. But I got distracted.” He massaged his nape and scowled. “Those women arrived an hour early. Phyllis wasn’t part of the deal.”
“So she weaseled her way in.” No wonder Holt was so afraid he’d lose Bobby to the grandparents.
His eyes as cold as bluestone and his expression as hard, he slammed a hand against the porch support. “Fuck! You’d think it was the early 1900’s instead of the next century. Do they expect single people to have chaperones?”
“I’m sure she’s witnessed way more than she found here. Seeing my belongings in one room and yours in another seemed to satisfy her sense of propriety, but not Phyllis’s. Bobby’s her only link to her dead daughter. I suspect she’ll do whatever it takes to get custody.”
Scowling and raking a hand through his short hair, Holt prowled the length of the porch. “What am I supposed to tell her or the judge when you light out in a week or so?”
Maddy rubbed the bridge of her nose. The longer she stayed, the more she burrowed into Holt and Bobby’s life, the harder she’d find it to extricate herself. But she owed them her help. Besides, she’d blurted out the words that fenced her in.
“Like I told you, I’m between gigs. I’m not expected in New York until June first, so I could stay until then. Is that long enough?”
“Four weeks? Maybe. Chris Hawke said these custody things could take months. We could make it look like we’re planning a wedding.” He leaned against the porch rail and eyed her with suspicion. “You promise not to take off once your Range Rover’s sold? Or some new assignment pops up?”
Maddy should have expected he’d check up on her. After all, he was a trained investigator. “How do you know my truck’s for sale?”
“I saw it in front of the garage when I drove into Rangewood to load up wood chips at the sawmill. Big For Sale sign plastered on the windshield. A clue even I couldn’t miss.” The wry sarcasm didn’t alter his stone face.
She shifted her feet. “The transmission’s shot. It would cost more than the vehicle’s worth to fix it. I bought the old girl second, maybe third hand. I’m not much better at maintenance than Rob, and it sits in storage most of the time. I forgot to mention it.”
“Why didn’t you just rent when it broke down? Or buy a new SUV?” He stalked across the porch to stand toe to toe with her. His steely blue glare was meant to intimidate.
Her pulse rattled. Why she didn’t beat the hell out of her. Had she subconsciously stranded herself so she had to stay in Rock Valley? With Holt? She shoved away the questions. “I had to decide what to do. You know, weigh my options. Not rush into anything. I didn’t want to make an—”
“Impulse buy? You? The woman who hot-footed it on her wedding day, who showed up here unannounced, and who blurted out we were engaged? No, that woman wouldn’t want to make an impulsive move.”
“Back off, Donovan. I’m not some drug dealer you’re interrogating.” Her Rover had been her only real asset. Not the time to admit that. But she could tell him part of the truth. “I have a temporary cash flow problem.”
Something in her tone of voice or her eyes must have reached him because his expression softened. “Low on funds. Or tapped out, like the silver mine on Ghost Mountain?”
His warm tone melted her bravado. “I haven’t been paid for the last job, and most of my money’s in camera equipment. And investments. How did you guess?”
“When we picked up your stuff that first day, your story about checking out of the Valley Motel was damned lame, and I saw your sleeping bag—”
“In the back of the truck.” Interesting he’d said nothing at the time.
“Then in Fort Adams when I took Bobby to the doctor, I figured you’d buy some feminine junk or at least clothes in one of those cutesy shops on Fort Street.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “When you met me back at the truck, I nearly fell over with shock that all you had was a camera memory card.”
“I needed more gigabytes.” The strength of his grasp, his masculine scent seeped into her and made her crave his kiss again. How ironic that the attraction she’d fled so long ago was holding her here in steel manacles.
Because Holt didn’t press her further, she felt compelled to reassure him.
“Look, I’m all right. My agent assures me I’ll get a check soon. Then I’ll buy a new vehicle, and I promise not to run out on you.”
“Hell, that’s damned reassuring.”
She drew a deep breath as she tamped down her temper. “I’ll help you with Bobby and finding Rob’s killer for as long as I can.” She drew a deep breath. “You’ll have to trust me.”
“Trust you. Not likely. But I’ll drop it. For now.” His eyes said he hadn’t dropped the issue far. “We do have a new problem.”
“The engagement. I’m sure we can explain our way out of it when the time comes. Say you changed your mind.”
“Big of you to make me the undependable one.” Frowning, he cut his glance away, but still his hands cupped her shoulders. His thumbs traced lazy circles on her collarbones. “No, the kiss is the problem. This...chemistry between us. I can’t afford the complication.”
Chemistry? A hot spurt bubbled up, but she squashed it. Maybe chemistry was all they had. She’d destroyed their friendship when she split on Rob. Any further involvement with Holt now was out of the picture.
He was strong, honorable, and responsible, everything she remembered and more. But Rob’s ghost made a formidable barrier to a relationship. Especially with a man who figured she’d run at the first opportunity.
She stretched her spine to her full height, still too short to look him in the eye. If only he would look her in the eye. “I don’t need that complication either. From now on, keep your hands to yourself.”
He pulled back and gaped at those appendages as though they’d held and caressed her on their own.
“Don’t kiss me again,” Maddy said as firmly as she could muster, “and we won’t have a problem.”
She pivoted and slammed into the house before he had a chance to remind her she’d participated as enthusiastically in that kiss as he had.
Had wanted his touch.
Had needed it.
Chapter 10
Maddy wanted nothing to shatter the fragile peace between her and Holt. They preparing to go photograph the crash site and visit neighboring ranches on Tuesday, Esperanza O’Grady’s regular day of cleaning and
cooking.
“Engaged!” Espie clapped her hands. “When I heard it in town, I thought I must be dreaming. Or that old busybody Phyllis Patterson must be exaggerating. Must be more goes on between you two when I’m not here than I realized.”
“Well, it was kind of sudden,” Maddy said. “Impulsive, you might say.” She winced at her choice of words.
The other woman winked. “So when’s the happy day?”
“Oh, we haven’t made definite plans yet.” Maddy should have known Phyllis’s gossip network would broadcast faster than You Tube. She could imagine Holt’s reaction when he’d have to handle congratulations from friends and neighbors. She paced the kitchen and rubbed the baby’s back in a rhythmic circle. “There’s too much up in the air about Rob’s death. And about Bobby.”
“I suppose. I see this engagement as a good omen all around.” Espie pocketed her dust cloth in the wrap-around apron she habitually wore. “Bobby’ll be fine with me while you and Holt are gone today. I best fix some breakfast. He’ll be in from the barn in a few minutes, I expect.” She opened the refrigerator and extracted eggs and bacon and set them on the counter beside the loaf of freshly baked bread she’d brought. A soulful harmonica wailed from her small portable radio. She preferred the tried and true to newer gadgets like her sons’ iPods.
A juicy eruption announced Bobby’s digestive success. Maddy mopped up milky drool, then nuzzled his warm head, the downy hair tickling her lips. She strapped him into the infant seat. He watched her with solemn eyes, but didn’t fuss.
“Can I do anything to help?”
Espie shook her head. “Don’t you need to change clothes before you go?” She glanced pointedly at Maddy’s light sneakers and Machu Picchu T-shirt.
Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) Page 8
