Once a Father

by Marie Ferrarella

  “But then you’d just sail on.”

  She closed the oven door and straightened up. “Me? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Tracy moved over to the counter and took out the two bottles she had brought with her. There was one bottle of red wine to go with the grilled steaks Adam told her he was making, and one bottle of sparkling grape juice for Jake.

  “Brought you your own bottle,” she told the boy. “That way you can join us.” She winked at Jake. Then, turning to Adam, who made no secret that he was watching her every move, she asked, “Anything you want me to do?”

  The answers that came to him couldn’t be voiced in front of Jake. As a matter of fact, for his own sake, they were better left unsaid. He’d already sunk himself in deeper than he’d intended by inviting her over for dinner.

  He glanced toward the kitchen table he’d covered with a red tablecloth not fifteen minutes ago. There was a large stain just beneath his own plate. “You can finish setting the table.”

  “Sounds good to me. Want to help, Jake?” She took out three glasses from the cupboard—the only three Adam had, she noted—and handed them to the boy one at a time. “You know, Jake, back in the very old days, before they had fire trucks, whenever they had a fire, the people of the town would form a fire line from a horse trough to wherever the fire was. The person at the back of the line would fill a bucket with water and pass it on to the next person and so on until the bucket reached the first person in line who was standing by the burning building. He got to be the one to throw the bucket of water at the fire. They just kept on passing buckets of water until the fire was out.”

  Or the building was gone, Adam thought.

  “This is kind of like a fire line, except that it’s just you and me.” She saw Jake glance toward Adam. “Well, I guess he’s our very own fireguy, yours and mine. Isn’t that neat?”

  The boy said nothing, but the man looked at her in a way that made her feel as if her kneecaps were going to be in danger of melting again. And soon.

  She could hardly wait.

  Nerves drummed urgently through him, as did a sense of uneasiness. Knowing there was no way to avoid it, Bancroft peered into Stone’s office. He’d hoped to leave for the night without any incident, but Hernandez had told him that Stone was looking for him.

  That couldn’t be good.

  But if he avoided him, it would become even worse. He licked his thin lips and tried to sound as if he wasn’t a man walking a tightrope.

  “You wanted to see me, Chief?”

  Throwing down the latest report on the possible suspects behind the bombing at the country club, Stone glared at the man in his doorway. Rumors were still flying right and left, rumors that put the blame on the Mexican Mafia, disgruntled members and random terrorists. He could live with that if those were the only suspects. But they weren’t. He’d heard whispers that there might be dirty cops behind the bombing.

  He couldn’t afford to let that rumor spread. He needed to wipe it out at its source. Trouble was, he didn’t know where the source was. But he had his suspicions.

  “I am tired of feeling as if I’m sitting on some kind of a powder keg, Bancroft, dangling my feet over the side while I’m waiting for it to go off.” He rose, pushing away from his desk. “That kid’s been out of the hospital for almost two weeks. That’s over four weeks since the accident happened. He’s gotta be talking by now. I want you to go back to him tomorrow and see what he knows. He’s staying with that firefighter who rescued him. Adam Collins.” He saw the uneasy look in the other man’s eyes. “Get a backbone, Goddamn it. You’re a cop. This is an ongoing investigation, isn’t it? You’re part of the task force, aren’t you? You want that hotshot female Molly French to get a bee in her bonnet and try to coax a few words out of the kid? I can’t control her. If she finds out anything or puts things together, it might mean the end of everything.”

  “But what if Collins is there? He didn’t let us near the kid in the hospital.”

  “He’s a firefighter. He’s gone two days in a row. Hell, don’t you know anything?” he demanded in disgust. “Get to the kid then.”

  “What if he still can’t talk?”

  Stone didn’t believe in this mute act, but he wouldn’t rest until it became a reality. “I like my witnesses silent,” the chief told him, his meaning clear. “Permanently.”

  A wave of nausea came over Bancroft and his skin turned clammy. His stomach tightening into a knot, he felt like throwing up. He said nothing.

  Chapter 13

  “Leave them.”

  Jake had fallen asleep to the misadventures of one of Dr. Seuss’s characters, the way Bobby always did when he’d read the stories to his son at bedtime. Adam had emerged from Jake’s room to find that not only had Tracy straightened up the living room and, with the exception of the jackets on the armchair next to the door, put everything away, but that she was now in the kitchen, wrestling with the pan that had contained the grilled streaks.

  After seeing the condition of the pan, Adam had decided it would be easier just to throw it away and buy a new one than waste energy cleaning it. He’d told her as much.

  Spoken like a true man, she thought fondly. As if dishes, like cats, washed themselves. She continued battling the burned-on grease in the pan. “I hate dirty dishes piling up in the sink. They tend to multiply.”

  Standing behind her, Adam breathed in her scent. And felt anticipation begin to hum through his veins. It was all he could do not to encircle her waist and draw her against him. But if he did that, this time he might not make it to the bedroom with her. And there was Jake to think about.

  “They’re not rabbits, and I don’t have any more dishes so they can’t multiply.” Taking her hand, he drew her away from the sink and turned her around. No matter how he struggled, how much he tried to hang on to common sense and tell himself that there was no future here, there wasn’t a single inch of him that didn’t want her. “You know, I’m trying not to have any feelings for you.”

  Now there was a line destined not to make the dating circuit, Tracy thought. She raised her eyes to his. “How are you doing?”

  He sighed, touching just her hair. “Failing miserably.”

  The smile in her eyes reached out to him. “Is that why you asked me over to dinner?”

  He couldn’t tell her anything but the truth. “I asked you over because I missed you. Because all I can think about is making love with you.”

  At least they were on the same page, she thought, relieved. “A nice, honest approach.” The smile turned into a grin. “A little threadbare on the sweet talk, but honest.”

  That was just the point. She deserved someone who could give her things he couldn’t, tell her things that didn’t even occur to him to say. “I can’t sweet-talk you, Tracy. I can’t be anything but what I am.”

  She shook her head. He still didn’t understand, did he? “No one is asking you to be anything else.”

  But for her, he should be. Still, there was a world of difference between what was and what should be. The least he could do is let her know something about the man who was becoming involved with her. Let her know the heartache that would always be his. “I never told you I had a son—”

  There was that word again. Had. “You didn’t have to. I sort of put the pieces together.”

  “Did you also put together the pieces that he and his mother died because I couldn’t save them?”

  There was such anguish in his eyes when he looked at her, it wrenched her heart. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold him and somehow make it dissipate, even a little. But something told her he had to get this out before it ate him alive.

  “Go on.”

  “It happened while I was on duty at the fire station. I had already pulled on my gear before I heard the address. My address. I got there too late.” He looked up at the ceiling, wishing for the countless time that things had been different.

  “You weren’t the only one,” she pointed out. “Th
ere were other firefighters.”

  “There was faulty wiring in the master closet. I should have checked that.”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  “It was my job to know.” It hurt to breathe as he spoke. “I couldn’t reach either one of them.”

  This time, she did put her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Adam.”

  He nodded. He knew she was. He took stock of himself. He hadn’t asked her here to unload on her. He’d asked her here because she was warm and he needed her warmth. Adam looked into her eyes. “I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

  The man overthought the situation too much. She was a firm believer that what would be, would be. “Let’s just enjoy the moment and not talk about the future.”

  It was a nice, safe plan and though he felt it was cowardly, he took refuge in it.

  In her.

  Taking her hand again, he led Tracy into his bedroom and closed the door, flipping the lock. The “click” resounded in the room, framed by the sound of their breathing.

  The echo of their desire.

  She stood beside his bed, watching him. Waiting for him to make the first move. He crossed to her, almost afraid to touch her. Afraid that he was dreaming, the way he had been all the other nights.

  “You look nice in a dress,” he murmured, his breath touching her face, caressing her even before his hands did. “You’d look nicer out of it.”

  To prove it, Adam brushed his lips against hers as he reached behind her back. Very slowly, he pulled the zipper down to its source. A thrill skated down his spine. He kissed her again, more deeply than before, as he drew the material away from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

  She wasn’t wearing a bra. Just as he’d surmised. All she had on, besides her high heels, was the barest lacy white thong.

  His heart went into overdrive the instant he drew back and saw it.

  He’d never seen anyone more seductive. “Did you wear that for me?”

  “I don’t wear anything for you,” she whispered softly against his mouth as she kissed him.

  Already hazing over with intoxication that had nothing to do with the glass of wine he’d had at dinner, it took a second for Adam’s brain to grasp what Tracy was actually saying to him. That she wore nothing for him.

  And nothing never looked better.

  He couldn’t go slowly, though he wanted to. He wanted to anoint every part of her, to touch, fondle, explore every inch of Tracy’s body again with the worshipful reverence of an archeologist with a precious new find, but his body was pleading with him to take her. To make wild, passionate love with her before the moment, and his courage, deserted him.

  Adam pulled off his shirt, throwing it aside, then unbuckled his belt and undid the snap at his jeans, his lips barely breaking contact with hers. He’d never felt this eager before, not even the first night they’d spent together. It was because he knew what was coming.

  Still wearing the thong and her heels, Tracy laughed softly against his mouth. “In a hurry, are we?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Instead, naked, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard.

  Tracy felt as if the top of her head was about to come off. It certainly felt as if she was spinning out of control.

  She didn’t remember falling onto the bed, didn’t take note of anything except the deep, consuming hunger that began deep in the pit of her belly and fanned outward to all her extremities. Her desperation, she discovered in surprise, matched his.

  Her hands swept over his hard body, exploring him as he explored her. Possessing him as he possessed her. Their bodies twisted together as the heat that emerged all but fused them to one another.

  And then, dragging what was left of her wits together, Tracy surprised him. Moving so that she had Adam flat on his back, she straddled him, her thighs forming a sensual parenthesis around his hips.

  Adam found himself breathing harder as desire grew to tremendous proportions. His eyes caressed her face. “I can count the seconds since I had you.”

  “Wrong,” she whispered as she began to move seductively over him. “We had each other.”

  Her eyes never leaving his, Tracy coaxed him into her. Then, as he gripped her hips, she began to move. Faster and faster as they climbed up to the summit.

  Adam grasped her arms, pulling her down to him, covering her mouth urgently with his half a heartbeat before he crested. The gasp he heard against his lips told him he hadn’t reached journey’s end alone.

  And then she was pouring her body over his like warm, soothing liquid, laying against him utterly boneless. He held her to him, gently stroking her hair. “You are a constant source of surprise to me.”

  Exhausted, she turned her head so that she could nip at his lower lip. He felt her smile curving against his chest and then she was running the tip of her tongue over his lower lip.

  She could feel him reacting. A confident, glowing smile slipped over her lips as she raised her head, pushing back her hair from her face. “Do you want to surprise me?”

  He knew what she was saying. She wanted to make love again. Exhaling a mighty breath, he laughed. “Why don’t you give me a minute?”

  She was moving against him again, her hips brushing along his as she pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple.

  He felt his eyes fluttering shut. “Maybe half a minute,” he amended. Adam felt her mouth making its way up to his chin. Shock waves vibrated through him. His loins pulsed with renewed desire. “Oh, the hell with it. Time’s up.”

  His arms around her, he turned Tracy so that they reversed their positions. It was his turn to drive her crazy.

  He did it with aplomb.

  Adam hung up the phone, fighting the kind of disappointment that went with the career he had chosen. Captain MacIntire had called to inform him that a particularly nasty strain of flu was going around. Five firefighters had called in sick this morning. He was needed at the station to make up the complement. Knowing the situation with Jake, the captain had promised that it was only for half a day, that the call was in to others to pick up some of the slack. There was no way he could refuse to do his part. At least MacIntire had the good grace to apologize for ruining his plans.

  Adam heard the key in the lock. He’d given his spare to Tracy. She’d left to make a quick trip to her apartment to get a change of clothes and bring Petunia over for Jake to play with. She was hoping that the friendly pet would succeed in drawing him all the way out.

  “We’re here,” she announced, bending over to deposit the potbellied pig on the floor. Rising, she took one look at Adam’s face and knew something had happened. “What’s wrong?”

  The woman completely astounded him. He shook his head. “You’re good.”

  She gave a careless half shrug. “I’m in tune with people.” She stepped around Petunia, crossing to him. “Don’t change the subject, what’s wrong?” Since he wasn’t around, she looked toward the boy’s bedroom. “Is it Jake?”

  But Adam shook his head. “Captain MacIntire just called.”

  She knew what that meant. “You have to go in.”

  She didn’t sound upset, he thought. That was odd. Gloria had always gotten so upset every time his job got in the way of any of their plans. “Just for the morning.”

  Tracy nodded. “Go. Jake and I will entertain each other. I’ll show him some more of my sleight-of-hand tricks. He seems to like that.”

  It was something she’d perfected when she was younger. Specifically, she’d shoplifted in a vain attempt to get her parents’ attention. What it had gotten her was a severe reprimand from a kindly store manager and an even more severe case of guilt and shame. Her parents never even acknowledged the incident.

  He studied her face, looking for any visible signs of annoyance. There weren’t any. “You’re not angry?”

  “Disappointed, maybe,” she allowed. She dug into her pocket and tossed a truffle toward Petunia, who devoured it before it could hit
the ground. She grinned at the pet. “But I’ve had enough emergencies of my own. The next beeper that goes off could be mine,” she reminded him.

  And then Tracy raised herself up on her toes and kissed him quickly on the lips, drawing back before the kiss could flower into something more tempting. She was having trouble letting him go as it was.

  “Go,” she told him pushing him toward the door. She picked up his jacket from where it lay next to Jake’s. She tossed her purse over beside it. It listed to one side, emptying out. “Be brave. Save someone.”

  He pulled his jacket on, then caught her hand. There was a warmth budding within him, a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature, or even the promise of another torrid night of lovemaking ahead. It exclusively had to do with the woman standing before him. He never thought he would feel this way again.

  “It’s you who’s saved me,” he told her. And then, brushing his lips against hers quickly, he hurried out the door.

  Tracy sighed, staring at the closed door. “That man has some exit lines.” She turned around to see that the pig had made a beeline for Jake, who’d come out of his room, drawn by the sound of her voice. “She is really getting very, very fond of you.”

  Crossing to the sofa, Tracy sat down and patted the space beside her, waiting for Jake to join her. He wiggled onto the sofa, his small feet sticking out before him like two unsynchronized windshield wipers, moving madly back and forth.

  “I can see the feeling is mutual.” She grinned, a faraway memory teasing her mind. She struggled to capture it, but only fragments returned. “You know, when I was a very little girl, I can remember someone playing a silly game with me. Did your mom ever do this?” Moving one of his feet closer to her, she lightly tweaked his big toe, then systematically moved on to the rest. “This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef and this little piggy had none—poor piggy,’ she commented with a wink. “And this little piggy cried wee-wee-wee—”