by Julie Miller
He’d watched the kid talking to Rachel and Dr. Norwood. Had seen the crestfallen expression on Kevin’s face when Norwood rebuked him. Just like a kid who wanted approval from a father figure. Just like a kid whose father wasn’t there for him.
Just like all the kids Josh shot hoops with at the community center.
When a kid went looking for something to give his life meaning, he’d better find it. Or else the drugs were always there waiting for him. Providing the illusion of meaning in his life, when in reality, the drugs simply stripped away the need for anything aside from the drugs.
Josh shifted his position, crossing his right ankle over his left knee, fighting the urge to pace up and down the length of the hallway. He was supposed to be Josh Tanner, the king of ultracool. Laid back and looking for fun.
He drummed his fingers against his knee and did his pacing inside his head. All Kevin Washburn had needed that morning was a word of encouragement from Curt Norwood. That positive reinforcement might have given Kevin the strength to fight his way through today clean. But combining that disappointment with whatever other troubles plagued him had made Kevin desperate enough to call Josh—a virtual stranger—and make a deal.
I’ll connect you with the meth if you buy a sample for me, too.
Josh tasted the bitter guilt in his mouth. A cop buying drugs for a junkie. It sure didn’t feel much like he was saving the world today.
And then there was Rachel Livesay.
She should be making plans for her baby’s arrival, not dealing with scum like David Brown and that insensitive excuse for a man, Curt Norwood. He decided he didn’t like Norwood much. He wouldn’t help a lady sit in her chair. He wouldn’t make the time to assist a needy kid. And he’d been holding hands with Rachel. Across the tabletop. Where anyone, including Josh, could see. And she hadn’t protested that public display of affection one little bit.
Nope, he didn’t like Curt Norwood much at all.
And what about that sick note that had fallen from Rachel’s oversize purse? Josh’s skin crawled with frustration. He couldn’t do anything about that threat, either.
I want what’s mine.
Who the hell would want to scare Rachel like that?
David Brown? After last night’s fight, Josh doubted the subtle approach to intimidation was David’s style. Of course, David sober was a much more calculating piece of work than David drunk.
But who else might have a grudge against soft, sexy, prickly, proud Rachel?
She’d told him there was no father. And he believed her. The admission had been too painful for her to have made it up.
But a test tube didn’t say things like I’m watching.
He’d been a little surprised at first to learn there wasn’t a man around that she’d been intimate enough with to create a new life together. But then he’d been secretly pleased. Because there wasn’t a man around she’d been intimate enough with to create a new life together.
And wouldn’t he love a shot at being that man she would get intimate with.
Josh shifted again, trying to find a position where the bandages around his ribs didn’t pinch and the muscles beneath them didn’t ache.
He was a sorry overachiever. He had a meth ring to crack. A lieutenant to butter up. A kid in trouble he wanted to put into a rehab unit. A beautiful professor he wanted to take into his arms and protect.
But the drug dealers were hiding out. The lieutenant thought he was a hotshot. Kevin Washburn wanted more drugs. And Rachel Livesay thought he was too young.
Holding his hand in public would be too scandalous.
Kissing her would be downright illegal.
And no matter how many times he charged to her rescue, no matter how many times she turned to him for comfort, she just plain straight wasn’t going to let any magic happen between them.
A high-pitched chirp saved Josh from the introspection that was eating him up inside. He pulled the cell phone from his jacket and checked the unmarked number. A.J.
Josh punched the on button and put the phone to his ear. “What do you got, A.J.?”
“My day’s going fine, thanks. And yours?” The accented inflections in A.J.’s voice teased him out of his foul mood. At least trading quips with Detective Rodriguez gave him something new to focus on.
“Sorry. Buenos dias, amigo. How’s it hanging with you today?”
A.J. laughed. “Your Spanish sucks. I liked you better when you woke me up at three in the morning.”
“It wasn’t three. It was more like 2:58.”
“Ah. That makes all the difference in the world.” The tone of A.J.’s smooth voice altered slightly. “Seriously, amigo. I’ve been tracking down information for you since before dawn. Lieutenant Cutler keeps walking past. I think he’s going to bring a razor next time and order me to clean up my act if I’m going to be sitting behind a desk.”
“Sorry, man. I know you’d rather trade places with me.”
“What, and miss out on all this quality time with the lieutenant?”
It was Josh’s turn to laugh. He caught his side and groaned, immediately regretting the impulse. “Better tell me what you found out. I’m meeting a kid in a couple of minutes who said he’d set me up.”
“Right. Here’s the short version.” He could hear the shuffle of papers as A.J. went through his list. “David Brown had a sealed juvie record. I had Merle Banning dig into the computer files and get me the details. Vandalism. Petty possession of narcotics. Assault. Aggravated assault.”
“Terrific.” Josh’s stomach churned at the idea of Rachel facing off against David and his goons last night. What might have happened if he hadn’t come along when he did? “He’s a real Boy Scout.”
“He’s been arrested twice since he turned eighteen. Two counts of possession. Both times the charges were dropped.”
Maybe Josh did need to get closer to David. The creep seemed like a natural suspect to lead a ring of drug dealers on campus.
The door to the biology lab swung open and the first of the hundred-plus students began to file out. “Make it quick, A.J. It’s time for my appointment.”
“Shelton and Parrish are clean. Probably recent recruits.” Josh stood, listening to A.J. turn another page. “And your Dr. Livesay.” Josh’s full focus zeroed in on the voice on the phone. “Age thirty-seven. Divorced. She and her former spouse, Dr. Simon Livesay, had a ground-breaking counseling practice working with teens and young adults. I haven’t read the articles, but they’ve been written up in medical and psychology journals across the country. She’s big news.”
“Any enemies?”
“An unsatisfied customer, maybe? I haven’t had time to dig deep yet. But I can tell you this—”
Kevin Washburn popped out of the classroom. Josh doffed a salute and the dark-haired kid headed his way, checking every classmate who passed him with a darting glance. “What?”
“Her ex, Simon Livesay, is in financial trouble. Apparently he got sued by one of his female clients for sexual harassment. They settled out of court and the guy retained his license. But he had to declare bankruptcy. The plaintiff’s attorney threatened to use some of your Dr. Livesay’s divorce deposition against him. The guy’s a player.”
“Interesting.” Another suspect with a motive to stalk Rachel? “Let me know if you find out anything else. And thanks.”
“Just doing my job. You do yours.” A.J.’s tone switched from one of superior officer to one of comrade-in-arms. “Watch your back.”
“Always.”
Josh disconnected the call and pocketed the phone as Kevin approached him. “Hey, Kev.”
“Josh.” He jammed his fingers through his oily hair and fiddled with the strap of his backpack. “Friend of yours?” he asked, nodding toward the phone.
Josh smiled and thumped Kevin playfully on the shoulder. “You’re my friend right now, Kevin.” He steered the young man toward the outside doors and fell in step beside him. “Let’s go meet that special friend of
yours.”
RACHEL’S LIFE had gone from bad to worse.
“Simon.”
Of all the people she’d expected to find waiting outside on her front stoop, her ex-husband wasn’t one of them. He looked as impeccably handsome as ever, despite the fact he was shivering inside his tailored, double-breasted suit.
“Rachel.” He clasped her by the elbows and kissed her on her cheek. His lips felt like ice against her skin. He leaned back and looked at her, his gaze sweeping from the top of her red hat to the soles of her brown boots. “You look absolutely gorgeous. Pregnancy agrees with you.”
Too stunned by his appearance to respond to the compliment, she stepped out of his grasp and asked, “Don’t you have a coat? It is winter in Missouri. I’m sure Armani makes one in your size.”
“Witty as always—”
She wondered how she had ever found his hollow flattery charming.
“My coat’s at the hotel. I’m meeting with your Dean Jeffers tomorrow. But I wanted to surprise you and take you to dinner tonight.”
Rachel glanced at the cold-shrouded sun still high in the sky, then pushed back her glove and checked her watch. “It’s three in the afternoon.”
His smile dimpled in mock apology. “I hoped maybe we could talk first.”
This visit still didn’t make sense to her. “You could die of exposure out here. How long were you planning to wait for me?”
“Oh, I’ve only been here a few minutes. I called your office. Your secretary said you’d just left, so I called a cab to bring me here. I’m staying at Crown Center, so the trip didn’t take long.”
Crown Center, eh? One of the finest, most expensive hotels in the entire city. Simon always did everything first-class. How he ever thought he’d be happy on a professor’s salary dumbfounded her.
“I was coming home to take a nap. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Is the baby keeping you up?” he asked.
“That’s after they’re born, Simon.”
He nodded and then sneezed. “So may I come in?”
He sneezed again, pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at the pinkened tip of his nose. Great. He’d made this grand gesture to impress her, and now he was going to get sick. If he expected her to take care of him this time, he was wrong.
Linking arms with him, she unlocked the foyer door and escorted him inside. “Let’s get you out of the cold before you catch something.”
Ten minutes later she had a pot of tea brewing and a cup of forbidden coffee heating in the microwave. Even though it was instant, the aroma was heavenly. The first thing on her list once she had given birth and weaned her baby from nursing was to sit down with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. French vanilla roast mixed with dark Colombian beans. She closed her eyes and inhaled, using her imagination to turn the freeze-dried crystals of coffee into a rare treat for the senses.
“Pregnancy has changed your behavior, I think. That’s the second odd thing you’ve done since I’ve been here. The first was that whole belly-rubbing thing you did after you took off your coat.”
Simon’s observation upon returning from the bathroom echoed the subtle criticisms that had finally made her give up the fight to save her marriage. Maybe if she’d thought he found her as attractive as he did his mistresses, she might have tried harder to reform his wandering ways. She’d wanted a home and a future. He thought she was an old fuddy-duddy.
Rachel opened her eyes and faced him. She didn’t have to listen to his ego-eroding comments anymore. “I rub my belly to get the baby to move. Sometimes she’s wedged against a bone or muscle and it hurts me.”
He sat at her table and shook his head. “I still don’t see why you’d want to put yourself through pain like that. The sex between us was always good, wasn’t it?”
The sex between them had been nonexistent after that first year. After that first affair. After she’d immersed herself in her work so that she wouldn’t know her husband wasn’t at home anymore.
“Why are you here, Simon?”
The microwave dinged. She served him the coffee and poured herself a cup of tea. When she joined him at the table, he finally answered.
“I want to know what kind of money you make. What your work hours really are in school. Will I have time to pursue my own interests?”
That was brassy. “What I earn is private. Dean Jeffers will probably offer you the starting salary and some kind of bonus.”
“Bonus. I like the sound of that.”
She sipped her bland tea and wished for coffee and better company. “As far as the hours go, remember when we were in grad school?”
“Of course.”
“I’m about that busy.”
Simon frowned. “What about your social life?”
Social life? This baby was her life. “I make time for it as often as I can. But I usually spend my evenings at home.”
A distracting image of Josh Tanner eclipsed the coffee fantasy in her mind. Sitting on her couch, half-dressed. Looking down at her with those amazing blue eyes. That would be a home life she’d crave. A darling baby in her arms. Herself cradled in Josh’s arms.
There she went, wishing for the impossible again. Even if Josh Tanner wasn’t her student and the powers-that-be accepted their relationship, she didn’t know if she could trust that fantasy. Josh was young. Handsome. Stunningly sexy. And he had a heart and compassion any woman would love.
Any woman.
Josh would tire of her soon enough, just as Simon had. Maybe even more quickly as the novelty of being with an older woman wore off.
Rachel took a hasty drink of her tea and nearly scalded her tongue. But the pain was a sharp reminder that spinning fantasies about her golden Sir Galahad was pointless. She couldn’t become involved with a student, no matter how tempting he might be. And she wouldn’t become involved with a younger man.
“I think I’ll state a minimum amount I’ll accept for the bonus. And request specific time off from my duties.” He was completely oblivious to her miserable discomfort. “Do you think your dean will agree to that?”
So he’d come to pick her brain about the perks of her job. Right now she had bigger concerns than Simon’s financial future and happiness. She had a baby to protect.
She pointedly glanced at her watch and rose to carry his cup to the sink. “I have a doctor’s appointment in half an hour. Was there anything else you wanted?”
“A doctor? Are you all right?” He shot out of his chair and crossed the kitchen as if his concern was real. He wrapped his fingers gently around her elbow. “You look fine. Except for the pregnancy thing, of course.”
“Pregnancy thing?” She pulled away from his unwelcome touch.
“You know what I mean.” He followed her back to the table. “We have history, Rache. If there’s anything wrong, I want to—”
“It’s just a business meeting at the Washburn Clinic.” She wanted nothing from her ex beyond a quick exit from her condo. “I’m fine. Our history shows that I’m the responsible one, anyway. If anything was wrong, I’d handle it without your help.”
Instead of taking the hint and leaving, Simon perked up at her announcement. “Andrew Washburn? Will you be seeing him? How is the old coot doing?”
Forget about bad to worse. Her day was about to go all the way to worst. “How do you know Dr. Washburn?”
“Why, I donated sperm to his clinic, of course.”
SURELY SIMON wasn’t 93579.
Wouldn’t that be the ultimate irony? The man who adamantly claimed that children would slow down his life and mess up his house ending up as the father of her child. Rachel clutched her stomach. The possibility made her as nauseated as she’d been those first few weeks of morning sickness.
But later, as she paced the plush, wine-colored carpet of Andrew Washburn’s office, the idea almost made sense. With Simon’s ego, she wouldn’t put it past him to somehow ensure that he was the one who impregnated her. It’d be the ultimate testament to h
is virility. Giving every woman—including his ex-wife—what he thought they wanted most. Himself.
Rachel stopped in front of the broad picture window and looked out across the snow-covered grounds of the Washburn Clinic. With each well-trimmed evergreen bathed in an icy sea of white decorative lights, the place looked like a fairyland at night. A wonderful place where miracles happened.
She hugged her own miracle.
Simon saw children as impositions, not miracles. Why would he threaten to take hers? Unless it wasn’t about the baby at all.
How badly did Simon want her job? How permanently did he want to stay on at the university? If he was behind the note and the phone call, then he must be more desperate for money than Curt had indicated. Maybe Simon wanted to scare her enough that she’d pack up and leave Kansas City. Dean Jeffers wanted to hire him. With her out of the picture, a short-term replacement could become a full-time employee.
But Simon had once claimed to love her. Unfaithful and inconsiderate were words she’d always used to describe him. Never cruel.
She pressed her fist to her lips. How the hell was she supposed to figure this all out? “Damn.”
“I’m working as fast as I can. These damned computers never cooperate.” Andrew Washburn’s frosty gray eyes nailed her above the half-lenses of his glasses. Those shrewd eyes softened as he realized her curse hadn’t been directed at him. His snowy-white mustache twitched as he worked to control his burst of temper. “Sorry. Was there something else you wanted to ask?”
Since he wouldn’t give her the answer she wanted most—the identity of her baby’s father—she shook her head and let him return to his computer search. He’d been scrolling through a file on his screen, reading his data on the mysterious 93579. She’d settle for any information she could get about the father, even if it wasn’t his name.
