by Diana Palmer
"That's why I want you to go to New York."
"I've got a pet to take care of," Cash protested.
"You can take Mikey back over to Bill Harris before you leave town. He won't mind
taking care of your baby while you're gone. You need a break. Honest." Cash sighed and slid his big hands into his pockets. "For once, I agree with you." He hesitated. "If her uncle calls and asks why she left..." "I won't say a word about the snake. I'll just tell him that you were having mental problems from being followed around by aliens all day," Judd said complacently.
Cash gave him a dirty look and went back to work. LATE THE NEXT DAY, Cash presented himself in the commandant's office at the Cannae Military Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. The name of the school was amusing to him, denoting as it did the monstrous defeat of mighty Rome at the hands of the Carthaginian guerrilla, Hannibal.
The commandant, Gareth Marist, was known to him. He'd served with the man years before during Operation Desert Storm in Iraq.
They shook hands like brothers, which they were, under the skin. Few men had ever had to endure what these two had when they'd gone in behind enemy lines. Marist had escaped. Cash had not.
"Rory told me all about you," Gareth said, "before I realized who you were. Sit down, sit down! It's good to see you again. You're working in law enforcement now, I believe?"
Cash nodded, dropping gracefully into a chair across the desk from the uniformed man, who was about his age, but taller and with a receding hairline. "I'm police chief of a small town in Texas."
"It's hard to give up the military life," Gareth told him. "I couldn't. So I got this appointment, which was great for me. I love helping mold the soldiers of the future. Young Rory has a lot of potential, by the way," he added. "He's very intelligent, and not rattled by boys twice his size. Even the bullies leave him alone," he chuckled.
Cash grinned. "He's not afraid to speak his mind, that's for sure."
"And his sister," Gareth said, with a long whistle. "If I weren't a happily married man with two delightful children, I'd be crawling on my knees after Tippy Moore. She really is beautiful, and she loves that kid," he volunteered. "When she first brought him here, she was scared to death. There had been some trouble with her mother, but she downplayed it. She showed me papers that gave her full custody of the boy, and she made sure we knew that we were never to let his mother get her hands on him. Or his so-called father." He studied the other man closely. "I don't guess you'd know why?"
"I might," Cash replied, "but I don't share secrets."
"I remember," Gareth replied, and with a grim smile. "You never broke under torture. I only knew one other guy who managed that, and he was S AS—the British Special Air Services."
"He was in there with me," Cash told him. "A hell of a guy. He went right back to his unit after we escaped, like nothing had ever happened."
"So did you."
Cash didn't like talking about it. He changed the subject. "How's Rory doing
academically?" "Very well. Top ten percent of his class," he said. "He's an officer, too." He smiled. "You can always tell the ones who have leadership ability. It shows up early." "Indeed it does." He cocked his head. "No financial problems keeping him here?" he fished. The commandant sighed. "Not at the moment," he said. "Although Tippy's income is sporadic, you understand. There have been times when we've stretched due dates..."
"If there are ever other times, could you let me know, without telling Tippy?" He slipped a business card out of his wallet and slid it across the sleek wood of the desk to the commandant. "Think of me as part of Rory's family."
Gareth was hesitant. "Grier, this is a hell of an expensive place," he began. "On a policeman's salary..."
"Look in the parking lot at what I'm driving."
'There are lots of cars out there," the other man began, rising to go to the window.
"You'll notice it."
There was a pause and a whistle when he saw the beautiful, red custom-made Jaguar. He turned to Cash. "That's yours?"
Cash nodded. "I paid cash for it," he added deliberately.
The other man let out a sigh. "Lucky devil. I drive an SUV." He turned back to his desk. "I gather that special ops pays well." "No, it doesn't," Cash disagreed. "But I was heavily into other work before I did special ops," he added. "And I don't talk about it. Ever."
"Sorry."
"No harm done. It was a long time ago, but I invested wisely, as you see." He smiled. "Now. How about calling Rory in?" The commandant knew when an interview was over. He smiled back. "Okay."
RORY CAME INTO THE commandant's office breathless, flushed with excitement. Two boys had come down the long hall with him, but they stopped outside the office, and stood watching from across the hall.
"Mr. Grier," Rory greeted, breaking into a wide smile. "Gosh, it's nice of you to come pick me up! Sis and I usually take the train!"
"We're driving," Cash said, smiling with a little reserve. "I hate trains."
"Oh, I like them, especially the dining car," Rory proclaimed. "I'm always hungry."
"We'll stop and eat before we start up to New York," he promised the boy. "Ready to go?"
"Yes, sir, I've got my kit right out here in the hall! Sis is beside herself," he added gleefully. "She's cleaned the apartment three times and polished all the furniture. She even cleaned out the guest room, so you'd have a place to stay!"
"Thanks, but I like my own space," Cash said easily. "I've booked a hotel room near her apartment."
The commandant chuckled when he heard that. The Cash he'd known had always been a stickler for protocol. He wouldn't spend a night in a single woman's apartment, no matter how many people thought it was acceptable.
"My sister said that you probably wouldn't stay in the apartment," Rory said surprisingly. "But she wanted you to think she's a good housekeeper. She's practiced cooking beef Stro-ganoff, too. Judd Dunn told her you like that."
"It's my favorite," Cash confessed, impressed.
Rory grinned. "Mine, too, but I'm glad you like it."
"Do I have to sign him out?" Cash asked Gareth.
"You do. Come on out and we'll take care of the formalities. Danbury, have a good holiday," he told Rory. Cash was shocked to hear the boy's last name. He'd assumed the child's last name was Moore, like Tippy's. Rory saw the surprise and laughed. "Tippy's real last name is Danbury, too. Moore
was our grandmother's last name. Tippy used it when she started modeling."
That was curious. Cash wondered why, but he wasn't going to start asking probing questions right now. He signed Rory out, took time to shake hands with Rory's fascinated friends, and escorted the boy out to his car.
Rory stopped dead when he saw Cash push a button and the trunk of a flashy red Jaguar popped open.
'That's your car?" Rory exclaimed.
"That's my car," Cash told him, smiling. He tossed the boy's bag into the boot and closed it. "Climb aboard, youngster, and let's be off."
"Yes, sir!" Rory replied, waving frantically to the two spellbound boys at the front door of the office. Their noses were actually flattened against the glass when Cash roared out of the parking lot and onto the street.
CHAPTER TWO
CASH STOPPED BY HIS HOTEL to check in before he drove Rory to Tippy's apartment in Manhattan, in the lower East Village.
Tippy was waiting at her door after she buzzed Cash and Rory up to her flat on the second floor. She looked like a stranger, in jeans and a pullover yellow sweater, with her long red-gold hair flowing down her back. With the casual attire and minus any makeup, she didn't look like the elegant, beautiful woman Cash remembered from the premiere of her movie, the month before.
She fidgeted nervously as she opened the door, smiling. "Come in," she said quickly. "I hope you're both hungry. I made beef Stroganoff."
Cash's dark eyebrows rose. "My favorite. How did you know?" he added with wicked dark eyes.
She cleared her throat.
"It's my
favorite, too," Rory laughed, coming to her rescue. "She always makes it for me on the night I come home."
Cash chuckled. "That puts me in my place."
She was looking around behind him. "No suitcase?" she asked. "I cleaned the
spare bedroom."
"Thanks, but I booked a room at the Hilton, downtown," he said with a warm smile.
"I like my own space."
"Oh. Right." She laughed self-consciously, before she awkwardly turned away and
hugged Rory. "It's great to have you home for the holidays!" she said. "You made good
grades, I hear, too."
"I did," he assured her.
"And got detention for fighting," she added deliberately.
He cleared his throat. "An older boy called me a name I didn't like."
"Yes?" She folded her arms across her chest and kept staring at him, unblinking.
Rory's eyes flashed. "He called me a bastard."
Her own green eyes flashed as well. "I hope you knocked him down."
He grinned. "I did. He's my buddy now." He glanced at Cash, who was watching the byplay with interest. "Nobody else ever stood up to him. He had the makings of a real bully, but I saved him from that awful fate."
Cash burst out laughing. "Good for you."
Tippy pushed back her hair. "Let's eat. I haven't had lunch," she added, leading die way into a small but cozy kitchen. The table was set with an embroidered tablecloth, on which rested colorful plates, cups, saucers and elegant silverware. She pulled a jug of milk out of the refrigerator and poured two crystal goblets full of it.
"Got another glass?" Cash asked as he paused by a chair. "I like milk."
She gave him a startled look. "I was going to offer you a whiskey..."
His face tightened. "I don't drink hard liquor. Ever." She was taken aback. "Oh." She turned away with real embarrassment. She hadn't said one thing right since he'd walked in the door. She felt like an idiot. She got out another crystal goblet and filled it to the brim with milk. He was such a puzzling
man.
He waited until she had the food on the table, and she sat down before he took his own
seat.Hisgraciousnessmadeherfeelatease.
"See that?" she told Rory. "There's nothing wrong with good manners. Your mother
must have been a charming woman," she
added to Cash.
Cash took a sip of milk before he answered. "Yes. She was." He didn't enlarge on
the brief admission.
Tippy swallowed hard. This was going to be an ordeal if he was this tight-lipped all night.
She recalled what Christabel Gaines had told her once about Cash, that his parents'
marriage was broken up by a model. Apparently the memories were still painful.
"Rory, say grace," she murmured quickly, adding another shock to Cash's
growing collection of them.
They all bowed their heads. She lifted hers a minute later and
gave Cash a mischievous glance. 'Tradition is important. We
didn't have any to start with so Rory and I decided on a few of
our own. This was one."
He picked up the serving bowl at her nod and helped himself
to Stroganoff. "And the others?"
She smiled at him shyly. It made her look younger. She wasn't wearing makeup,
except for a light lipstick, and her hair looked fresh and clean swinging loose around
her shoulders. "We add a new ornament to the Christmas tree every year and we
hang a pickle in the tree."
His fork poised in midair. "A what?"
"A pickle, Cash," Rory replied. "It's a German custom, for good luck. Our
grandfather on our mother's side was German." He finished a bite of meat and washed
it down with milk. "What were your people, Cash?"
"Martians, I believe," Cash replied seriously.
Tippy's eyebrows lifted.
"Right." Rory chuckled.
Cash grinned at him. "My mother's mother was from Andalusia, in Spain," he said
with a smile. "My father's people were Cherokee and Swiss."
"Quite a combination," Tippy remarked, studying him.
He stared at her curiously. "Your ancestors must have been Irish or Scottish," he
said, noting her hair color.
"That's what I mink," she agreed, but she didn't meet his eyes.
"Our mother's a redhead," Rory interjected. "Tippy's is natural, too, but lots of people think she dyes it." Tippy took a long sip of milk and said nothing. "I thought about dyeing mine purple, but my cousin, who was our former chief, said
it might offend people." Cash sighed. "That was about the same time he made me take off my earring," he added disgustedly.
Tippy almost choked on her milk.
"You wore an earring?" Rory exclaimed, delighted.
"Just a simple gold one," Cash admitted. "I was working for the government at the time and my boss was so politically correct that he wore a sign apologizing for stepping on bacteria and killing it." He nodded emphatically. "That's a true story."
Tippy was wiping her eyes. She laughed so hard that she was
almost crying. It had been years since she'd felt so lighthearted
with anyone. From their rocky beginning to laughter was a big step.
"She never laughs," Rory commented with a grin. "Especially on location shoots. She hates photographers on account of one made her sit on a rock in a bikini and she got bitten by a tern."
'The stupid bird dive-bombed me five times," Tippy had to admit. "On its final assault, it took part of my scalp away!"
"You should tell him about what the pigeons did to you on that shoot in Italy," Rory prompted.
She shivered delicately. "I'm still trying to forget it. I used to like pigeons."
"I love pigeons," Cash said, grinning. "You haven't lived until you've had them delicately wrapped in puff pastry and fried in olive oil..."
"You barbarian!" Tippy exclaimed.
"It's okay, I eat snakes and lizards, too, I'm not strictly a pigeon man."
Rory was all but rolling on the floor. "Gosh, Cash, this is going to be the best Christmas we've ever had!"
Tippy was inclined to agree. The man across from her bore very little resemblance to the antagonistic, hostile law enforcement officer she'd met while filming in Jacobsville, Texas. Everybody said Cash Grier was mysterious and dangerous. Nobody said he had a howling sense of humor.
Seeing her confusion, Cash leaned toward Rory and spoke in a loud whisper. "She's confused. Back in Texas, they told her I kept military secrets about flying saucers in a locked file."
"I heard it was aliens," Tippy murmured without cracking a smile.
"I do not keep aliens in my filing cabinet," he said indignantly. A minute later, his dark eyes started to twinkle. "I keep those in a closet in my house." Rory chuckled. Tippy was laughing, too. "And I thought actors were nuts," Tippy remarked on a sigh.
AFTER LUNCH, CASH announced that he was taking them to the park. Tippy changed into
an emerald-green pantsuit and put her hair in a braid, adding just a touch of makeup to
her oval face. Her apartment was on a quiet, tree-lined street. It was a transitional
neighborhood that had gone from fairly dangerous to middle class. The renovations
were noticeable, especially in Tippy's apartment, which had black wrought-iron
banisters that led up the stone steps to her two-story apartment.
In her heyday as a model, she'd had money to burn, and briefly she'd lived off Park Avenue. But after her year's absence from the profession, when modeling jobs became thin on the ground, she had to budget. That was when she'd moved here, just before she started shooting the movie in Jacobsville that had unexpectedly restarted her career. She could probably have afforded something better now, but she'd become attached to her neighbors and the peaceful street where she lived. There was a bo
okstore just down at the corner and a food market past it. There was also a small mom-and-pop cafe which served the best coffee around. It was lovely in the spring.
Now, with winter here, the trees were bare and the city looked cold and gray.
Cash's red Jaguar was parked just outside the steps that led into her apartment building. She did a double take when she saw it, but she didn't comment. Rory climbed into the back seat, leaving Tippy to sit up front with Cash. "I thought Central Park was dangerous," Rory remarked as they strolled along the sidewalk after the short drive, glancing at the pretty carriages hitched to horses that were waiting for customers. "And should you leave your car parked there?" he added, looking over his shoulder at the beautiful car. Cash shrugged. "Central Park is much safer now. And any
