Officer Daddy

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Leaving his car in the driveway, Leo strode across a lawn patched with weeds. “I don’t know why I put up with my gardener. Look at this lousy job.”

  “You don’t have a gardener,” Nora surmised after finding a parking space on the street.

  “Sure, I do. It’s me.” He gave her a teasing grin that invited her to kiss it away.

  “It’s like putting up a sign that says Rebel Lives Here,” she said.

  Following her gaze, he studied the place as if seeing it afresh. “You think I’m acting out some kind of overgrown adolescent rebellion?”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  He seemed to be searching for a clever answer, and coming up dry. “I suppose I have to agree.”

  “My aunt says she can psychoanalyze people by their birdbaths,” Nora remarked as they went up the walkway.

  “I don’t have a birdbath.”

  “I’m doing the same thing by psychoanalyzing your lawn,” she explained. “Now surprise me with a decor out of Better Homes and Gardens.”

  “That would surprise me, too,” Leo said as he let them inside.

  A giant TV reigned over a living room studded with old couches and a scarred coffee table. Farther into the interior, worn carpeting gave way to scuffed linoleum in the kitchen and den. By contrast, the wood of the billiards table gleamed against the green felt surface.

  Leo switched on a Coca-Cola stained-glass lamp. “Mi casa es su casa.”

  “Your casa is a little boy’s fantasy,” Nora replied, amused.

  “I’d rather indulge in a big boy’s fantasy.” He watched her with what, to Nora, seemed like an intoxicating mixture of hope and desire.

  She remembered her resolution to tell him about the pregnancy, but it went against the grain to hit him in the face with it. Besides, she was curious. “What’s going on at the police station? I mean, maybe it’s none of my business, but the captain acted like he was evaluating you.”

  “I’m up for promotion to detective,” he said. “So’s my patrol partner and that fellow who isn’t having a sex change.”

  “No wonder the air was crackling.” Thank goodness she’d followed her instincts and spoken on Leo’s behalf. “I hope I didn’t say anything wrong.”

  “Quite the opposite. I appreciated the testimonial.” He moved to the table and lifted a triangular frame, freeing the bright-colored wooden balls. “You play pool?”

  “Never tried it.”

  From a rack, he selected a middle-sized cue. “This looks about the right weight for you.”

  Did he have to keep changing the subject? Except, Nora recalled, she hadn’t established a subject. “I’m not sure how to put this…”

  Leo swiped the white tip across a blue cube sitting on the edge of the table. “The first thing you do is chalk your cue.”

  “You expect me to remember this?” she grumbled. “I’ll probably never play pool again. In fact…”

  “Right handed?” he asked.

  “Yes, but…” The next thing Nora knew, she was holding the thick end of the cue stick in her right hand.

  “Does that feel balanced?”

  “Leo!”

  “There any reason we can’t talk and have fun at the same time?” His husky voice close to her ear sent tingles through Nora.

  “You’re good at this,” she said wryly.

  “Pool? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Standing behind her, he reached around to help aim her cue.

  “I meant, seducing women.”

  A low chuckle caressed her nerve endings. “You ought to know.” When she tensed, he added, “Do you realize pool originated as the French game of croquet? The nobles used to play it outside with wooden clubs, but they hated to sweat, so they moved it indoors. That’s why the table’s green. It’s supposed to represent grass. Without weeds, you’ll notice.”

  Nora started to laugh, but stifled it. She didn’t mean to encourage him.

  “Put your left foot forward and your right foot back.” His hands moved to her hips. “Twist a little to the left so you won’t block your own stroke. We wouldn’t want to mess up a good stroke, would we?” From behind, his hardness brushed her derriere.

  Heat flooded Nora. She shouldn’t have suggested they come here. Should have insisted on neutral territory.

  “Leo…” Fatal mistake, to swing around at that moment. His hands clasped her waist, his body pressed her lightly against the edge of the table and his mouth captured hers.

  We need to talk.

  Maybe later.

  He smoothed up her sweater and explored her breasts with his tongue. It was astonishing how much she enjoyed unfastening his belt and stroking his chest, just as she’d longed to. Then he picked her up and, her legs wrapped around him, carried her into the bedroom.

  Not the world’s cleanest sheets. Nora didn’t care. He forgot to use a condom, but that hardly mattered. It wasn’t as if she could get pregnant again.

  It felt wonderful having Leo inside her. Being free to kiss him, hold him, melt into him. By the time they both climaxed, she felt gloriously happy and like a complete idiot.

  The happy part kept her quiet as Leo cradled her afterward. No sense spoiling this precious moment. Especially since it was unlikely ever to reoccur.

  The doorbell buzzed.

  “Forget it,” he said.

  They lay there, waiting for the person to go away.

  Someone banged on the door so hard the sound reverberated through the house. Outside, a woman yelled, “Come on, Leo! I know you’re in there. Your car’s in the driveway.”

  “Oh, hell,” he muttered.

  Nora couldn’t believe she’d landed in such a clichéd situation. “You have a girlfriend?” Couldn’t be a wife; she’d have attended Tony and Kate’s wedding. “You’re cheating on her with me?”

  Leo shot her a teasing look. “Jealous?”

  What kind of response was that? “I’m annoyed.” Nora threw off the sheets. “I took you for an honest man.”

  His grip on her wrist stopped her. “That isn’t my girlfriend. It’s my patrol partner, Patty.”

  She remembered what the captain had said. “She’s the one who’s good at conflict management?”

  “So rumor has it.”

  “Present circumstances would indicate otherwise.”

  A sharp rapping shook the nearest window, making Nora jump. Thank goodness the blinds were closed. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it! I need to talk to you,” the woman called.

  That makes two of us. For a horrifying moment, Nora wondered if Leo might have impregnated his patrol partner. But that hardly explained such urgency. A pregnancy could be discussed in due time. Nora winced at the irony of the thought.

  “I’m coming, damn it!” Leo yelled.

  Nora scrambled out of bed and went hunting for her clothes. She wondered if it might be possible to sneak out the front door while Patty was around the side, but no way could she retrieve her car without being noticed.

  Besides, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Stupid, maybe, but not wrong.

  Tugging a T-shirt over his head, Leo passed her on his way out of the room. Nora barely got her shoes on before she heard the door open and a woman’s strident voice say, “Mike told me he laid into you. You can’t think I purposely stabbed you in the back.”

  “What else am I supposed to think?” Leo answered irritably.

  “Why’d you take so long to answer the door? What were you doing, anyway?” The woman thumped inside.

  Nora debated whether to pop out of the den and announce herself. The only alternative seemed to be hiding in a closet, so, cheeks burning, she sauntered into the front room.

  “What do you think I was doing?” Leo replied at exactly the most embarrassing possible moment.

  Patty’s gaze raked Nora. “I should have guessed.” Arrow-straight, straw-colored hair barely reached the patrolwoman’s chin. Her stocky build made her seem large, although she stood only slightly taller than Nora’s five foot s
even inches.

  “Patty, Nora. Nora, Patty.” Leo dispensed with introductions in record time.

  “You’re the famous blonde.” Patty was apparently referring to Nora’s visit to the station.

  “We’re both blonde,” Nora responded.

  “She’s observant,” Patty told Leo. “Maybe you should get her to help you fill out your reports.”

  “I’d rather see her fill out a sweater,” he answered crisply.

  “Excuse me,” Nora said. “That was rude.”

  Leo cast her an apologetic look. “You’re right. Sorry.”

  “You stand up to him?” Patty asked. “Not bad. Oh, wait. You’re that woman who used to be married to the rich guy.”

  “Leave him—her—out of this.” Leo dragged his fingers through his hair, which sprang right up again. He turned to Nora. “Patty and I have issues to work out. I didn’t mean for you to get caught in the middle.”

  Nora hated to go without telling him about the baby, but this hardly seemed like the right time. Besides, she’d be seeing him next Saturday.

  Talk about issues. The guy had no clue.

  “I was just leaving.” Instinctively, she reached to tweak his cowlick into place, but it fell right back.

  Patty’s mouth quirked, as if the intimate gesture offended her. She didn’t seem hurt or jealous, merely disgusted. But then, she’d obviously typecast Nora as an empty-headed socialite.

  “It’s Saturday night,” Leo told Nora. “I was going to grill steaks.”

  “Something wrong with the barbecue at Bill and George’s?” Patty fired the question at him. “Or aren’t your old friends good enough for you anymore?”

  Nora had no intention of sticking around and getting mired even deeper in their quarrel. “You guys can work this out. Rumor has it you’re both really good at conflict resolution. See you later, Leo.”

  For a moment, she thought he might insist she stay, but she could see the anger seething beneath the surface, ready to discharge on his partner. Grabbing her purse, she made her getaway.

  The baby could wait. What was one more week, anyway?

  THE FACT THAT PATTY HAD driven Nora off made Leo even angrier. “Why did you take credit for my idea and then give Mike the impression I was trying to steal it from you?”

  “I already apologized. Isn’t that enough?” Her square jaw set pugnaciously.

  “You didn’t apologize.”

  “Did so.”

  “Is Mike trying to get into your pants or what?” He didn’t exactly believe that, but it was a fair question.

  “He’s a friend. The kind you used to be,” Patty snapped. “I’ve got as much right to get promoted as anyone.”

  “Who said you didn’t?”

  “You assume you’re the most qualified, don’t you?” She planted her hands on her hips. “I am the most qualified.” Seemed obvious to Leo. “Other wise, why do you keep stealing from me?”

  “Give one good example. No, wait, two.” A pause. “Make that three.”

  “You mean, aside from shadowing Mike and fingering another employee in the burglary?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Aside from those.”

  He couldn’t help it. He started to chuckle. A minute later, Patty did, too.

  “Do you concede the point?” Leo asked.

  “I concede nothing.” She shrugged. “I didn’t mean to chase off your hot date.”

  “Yeah. That’s a bummer.” On the other hand, Leo did feel kind of constrained around Nora. He was keenly aware of how sensitive and smart she was. He hardly wanted her to see him tossing back beers and swapping off-color remarks with his buddies. “So, what were we supposed to bring to Bill and George’s, anyway?”

  “You mentioned steaks.”

  “Can’t let those go to waste,” he agreed.

  As Leo stood on the porch and locked the door, he noticed how streaky the paint looked on the shutters. In fact, the entire front of the house had faded, and a crack in the porch appeared to be growing.

  That was the trouble with dating a classy woman, he reflected as he followed Patty to her car as it was her turn to serve as designated driver. Being around Nora made him uncomfortably aware of the state of his house.

  Next thing you knew, she’d turn him into his older brother. Much as he liked her, he refused to let that happen.

  Chapter Eight

  On Wednesday, Nora’s stomach went into overdrive. For breakfast, she followed the advice she gave her patients—sip ginger ale and eat a slice of toast. By downing handfuls of crackers, she made it through the morning, but by lunch she could hold on no longer.

  How many times had she placidly advised women that morning sickness was a normal sign of pregnancy and not a serious problem unless they encountered severe vomiting, dizziness or a racing heart? Never again would she gloss over the misery.

  Struggling to keep control, Nora slipped out of her office and power-walked down the hall to the restroom. If she upchucked in her private office bathroom, her nurse would notice. In fact, it was surprising that Bailey hadn’t remarked on her pallor already, but the nurse had been unusually preoccupied this week. When Nora asked, she’d cited personal problems without elaborating.

  Bracing herself in a restroom stall, Nora let nature take its course. What if this was a serious complication? she wondered. Some pregnant women developed a condition called hyperemesis gravidarum, a serious form of morning sickness that required hospitalization and treatment with intravenous fluids and medications.

  Maybe she should see a doctor. Which brought up another important point—who was she going to choose? For her regular checkups, she’d previously seen a woman gynecologist who’d recently moved out of state. There was no one she trusted more than Dr. Rayburn, whose office was conveniently located next to hers. They shared staff for records, billing and accounting. But he was her boss, and things might get awkward if she locked horns with Dr. Tartikoff.

  As Nora straightened, she registered that the nausea seemed to be abating. In the absence of other symptoms, this was almost certainly normal, garden-variety morning sickness. No need to choose a doctor quite yet.

  When she went to wash up, she discovered Dr. Rayburn’s nurse, Lori Sellers, applying makeup at the mirror. “You all right, Dr. Kendall?” she asked. “You don’t have that stomach flu that’s going around, do you?”

  Lori had obviously noticed something.

  “I hope not. I’d hate to pass it on to my patients.” Given the way word spread like wildfire around here, Nora added, “I’ll take my temperature right away.”

  “Even if it’s normal, you might want to wear a mask, just in case. But I don’t suppose I have to tell you that.”

  “Thanks.” After scrubbing her hands, Nora hurried out.

  She was safe, for now. But the symptoms wouldn’t go unnoticed for long.

  Nora checked her watch. Lunchtime. She was debating whether to retrieve her sandwich or buy a salad at the hospital cafeteria when her cell rang.

  The sight of Leo’s name on the display gave her a happy-uneasy feeling. She didn’t plan to tell him about her condition over the phone, of course, but what if she slipped? “Hi.”

  “Sorry for not calling sooner,” he said. “And by the way, I didn’t mean to let my partner give you the bum’s rush on Saturday.”

  Oh, no. Queasy again. At the end of the hallway, Nora perched on a window seat. “That’s okay.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll let me make up for it next Saturday, after we do whatever we’re doing at the counseling center.” When she didn’t immediately answer, he added, “I can cook or we can eat out.”

  Please don’t talk about food. Strange how she could be starving one minute and nauseated the next. “Fine either way.”

  “That’s what’s so great about you,” Leo said. “You let life happen. I never feel like you’re trying to box me into a corner.”

  This didn’t bode well for the topic she had in mind. “I would never do that. But w
omen do have to consider certain, well, long-term issues.”

  “Absolutely. And I’m glad you accept that I’m not the guy for that,” he added cheerfully.

  Through the window, Nora gazed toward the sea bluffs. Beyond seethed a sliver of blue ocean. Choppy surf. Ugh. She started to feel even more queasy. “Things do happen, things we don’t plan.”

  “That’s the best part, isn’t it?” Leo sounded practically euphoric, probably anticipating another evening of spontaneous clothes tossing. “We have to be able to roll with the punches, right? And I do mean roll.”

  “Okay. I mean, right.” She had to stop babbling and end this conversation, fast. “I’ll see you Saturday and we’ll, uh, plan to not make plans.”

  “Exactly.”

  Two seconds after they clicked off, Nora had no idea what they’d just agreed on. She was too busy barreling down the hall again.

  Since her staff should have gone to lunch by now, she let herself into her private bathroom and took her time. If the nausea didn’t get better soon, she might try acupressure. Several patients had reported good results with a nearby practitioner who specialized in women’s conditions.

  After she came out, she stiffened at a noise from another part of the suite. A moment later, she heard it again. A heavy sigh. Unless she’d been visited by an unusually moody burglar, it must be a staff member.

  Nora popped in a breath mint and went to investigate.

  At the nurse’s station, Bailey sat propped on her elbows, staring at a line of photos pinned to the wall, photos of moms and babies brought in by patients. Her curly hair was mussed and her eyes shadowed. The nurse was clearly in distress.

  Guiltily, Nora realized she’d been so absorbed in her own situation that she hadn’t given much thought to the personal problems troubling Bailey. At twenty-eight, the nurse had always been energetic and self-sufficient. She told hilarious stories about the losers she dated, and had announced more than once she was glad other women had babies, because she doubted she’d ever want to.