by Peggy Jaeger
When he left her alone, she took a breath. She needed to be more careful about telegraphing her emotions. The moment he’d told her he was going to leave her alone, she’d panicked, and it must have shown on her face, because Rick’s reassurance came quickly, his attempt to soothe her nerves immediate.
It was getting harder and harder to keep what was in her heart hidden for fear of chasing him away. Oh, she knew he was sticking to her like white on rice until Genocardi was apprehended, but once he was in custody, Abby would no longer need to have twenty-four hour protection, and Rick would be on his way.
How to make him stay? How to convince him they didn’t have to part company once his job was done? That they could continue on as they’d started until their desire for one another ran its course, because of course it would.
Abby had never been in this position before of wanting a man to stick around. She was the one who usually walked away or never let a relationship get past a few casual dates.
She didn’t want Rick to be a casual date.
She didn’t want him to be a casual anything.
Abby needed some guidance because this was a situation she had no experience, no wisdom, in. But she knew someone who did, so she pulled her cell phone from her bag and punched a speed dial number.
“Hey, Kan. Got a few minutes?”
****
“Think you bought enough presents for the kid?” Rick asked, nodding to the shopping bags filling her hands and lifting his own which held three more. When he’d consented to accompany her baby shopping after her last client, he figured they’d be in and out of the store in under an hour. Seriously. How long could it take to buy a blanket or a sleep thingie?
Apparently, a whole helluva lot longer than an hour. And forget the generic baby items. No, Abby had a plan and it didn’t include unisex undershirts or cotton blankies.
“Don’t be snide,” Abby said. “Kandy didn’t want a baby shower since she had one with Ben. Everyone else assumed she was having a boy again, so I know she hasn’t got any girlie colors. Besides, I’m campaigning for godmother, and Kandy likes a good bribe as much as I do.”
“With all this stuff”—he lifted the bags in his hands—“you’re going to be godmother to any and all children she has for the rest of her life. Probably her grandkids, too.”
“Oh, be quiet. If you knew how much fun it was to spoil a nephew or a niece, you wouldn’t be complaining so much.”
The front door to the penthouse opened as soon as the elevator stopped. Josh stood holding a pretzel-clutching Ben in his arms.
“Perfect timing,” he said, pecking Abby’s cheek. “Kandy just fed the baby.”
“Booby milk,” Ben said then giggled hysterically.
“Benjamin Charles.” Kandy’s voice rang clear and firm.
“Uh-oh, Benny-Boy,” Abby said, kissing her nephew’s forehead and narrowly missing getting a pretzel poke to the eye.
“Uh-oh,” the two-year old repeated, a gleeful smile sprouting around his pretzel.
Josh shook his best friend’s hand and asked him, “You recently invest in a department store?”
“Abby’s in bribe mode.”
“Oh, goodie,” Kandy said from the couch, the baby in her arms. “I love a good bribe.”
Abby tossed Rick a smirk over her shoulder. She dropped the overflowing shopping bags to the floor, kissed her sister, then said, “You look great. How are you and baby doing?”
For the next few minutes, the women in the room fawned and cooed over the infant, Kandy opening gift after gift, while the men—and little boy—retreated to the kitchen.
“Abs, I won’t have to buy her anything for a year. You’re the best.”
“Godmother-worthy, I’m hoping.”
Kandy laughed. “You’ll find out soon. Come help me change her.” She walked into the baby’s room, her sister in tow.
“Josh,” Kandy said to the camera monitor positioned on the wall next to the crib, “I’m going to shut this off for a few minutes while Abs and I have a chat.”
She turned a knob on the wall, and the green light on the camera went to red.
“The feed goes to the kitchen,” Kandy said, “and I figured you wanted some privacy. So, what’s up? I’m assuming this is about you and Rick, right?”
Abby planted herself in her grandmother’s rocking chair while Kandy went about the task of changing the baby’s diaper.
“More me, actually.” Abby sighed.
She confided her mixed feelings about Rick.
“You think you’re in love with him or you know you are?” Kandy asked. “There’s a big difference.”
Abby shook her head and frowned. “That’s the hardest part of this. I’m not sure. I’ve never been in love before. I’ve never let myself get close enough to a guy because I never wanted to get hurt if it didn’t work out.”
Kandy lifted her daughter and shook her own head. “Daddy’s betrayal really left us all with scars, didn’t it?”
“No lie. Was it this hard for you with Josh?”
“Not like you. I knew I was in love with Josh. I didn’t think he was, though. I knew we had this physical attraction thing going on—”
“Everyone within two yards of you knew that. Any room you were both in was so charged we all got jolted by the sparks.”
“Yeah, well, he was fighting the attraction tooth and nail. It wasn’t until it was all over and he told me how he felt that I knew. Has Rick given you any indication of how he feels about you?”
“He told me I was more than just a protection job to him.”
Kandy’s eyes widened. “Tells you a lot right there, then.”
“Yes, but what happens when I don’t need him to do his job anymore? Will we continue to go on as we have until he decides to move on? Or just leave outright?”
Kandy grinned. “I asked Gemma the same thing once about Josh and me.”
“What did she say?”
“That I should enjoy the hell out of him while we were together and not worry about the future. If it was to be, it would. If not…” She shrugged.
“That sounds like her. To a tee.” Abby sighed and when Kandy handed Sophie Grace to her, cuddled her close.
“I will tell you one thing I know,” Kandy said. “Josh clued me in a long time ago on what happened to Rick’s parents.”
“I know about them, too.”
“Good, because a lot of what drives him is based on his history. Rick has never let any woman into his life before. Oh, he’s not a monk, but as far as emotional entanglements and actual relationships go, he stays clear. You’re the first woman he’s ever broken his pattern for.”
“Again, is it because he’s doing his job and we’re enjoying one another, or is it more? Not knowing is so frustrating.”
“You could always ask him, you know. Or tell him how you feel and see what he says.”
Abby rolled her eyes and then kissed her now sleeping niece’s nose. “First rule of being a lawyer, sister dear: never ask a question you don’t already know the answer to.”
“Maybe”—Kandy placed a hand on her sister’s cheek—“you need to stop thinking like a lawyer and start thinking like a woman.”
To that, Abby had no retort.
“Come on.” Kandy turned the camera back on. “I have something for you.”
“What?”
When they entered the spacious kitchen, Rick and Josh were at the breakfast bar, Ben in his high chair and an open cookie tin in the center of the table.
Kandy quirked an eyebrow at her husband, whose face reddened when she glared at him.
“I believe I told you those were for Abby.”
Josh swallowed, a sheepish expression crossing over his face. “I forgot, babe. I’m sorry, but Rick said they hadn’t eaten dinner yet and I saw the tin on the table and I just— I’m sorry.”
“Oh, my God,” Abby exclaimed. Sophie startled a little in her sleep. Abby lowered her voice before asking, “Are those Grandma’s
cinnamon-peanut butter cookies?”
“Yup. I made them today after you called and said you were coming over.” Kandy glared at her husband.
“These are the best cookies I’ve ever had,” Rick said, popping another into his mouth and tossing Kandy a broad grin.
“I can’t be mad at you because you didn’t know any better,” Kandy said as she closed the tin. To her husband she added, “But you did.”
“Cookie, Mommie. P’ease?” Ben’s butt wiggled up and down in his chair as he held his hands out.
“How many have you already given him?” Kandy asked Josh. “And don’t lie to me. I can always tell when you are.”
Rick laughed out loud. “Nailed.”
Josh sent him a speaking glance. “Two,” he told his wife.
Kandy turned to Rick. “And you?”
Rick’s smile died. “On the suggestion of my lawyer”—he shot his thumb at Abby—“I’m pleading the fifth.”
Kandy narrowed her eyes.
“I’m recusing myself from your case,” Abby told Rick. “Conflict of interest.”
“Hey, I object. You’re not allowed to recuse yourself.”
“Show me case law to support your claim, and I’ll reconsider. For now”—she handed the baby to Josh, then lifted the tin—“these are mine, and you two aren’t having any more. Sorry, Benny-Boy,” she said to her nephew, “but Mommie says no.”
“P’ease?”
Abby slanted a look at her sister.
“You might as well. He’s never going to go down for the night anyway, now that he’s been sugared up. And just so you know”—she turned to her husband—“he’s all yours tonight. From bath to bed. Have fun.”
“You are so busted,” Rick told his best friend.
“B’std!” Ben giggled, a cookie in his hand courtesy of his aunt.
Minutes later, Rick and Abby were on their way back to her apartment, a shopping bag of dinner replacing the ones they’d brought filled with baby presents.
“Those really were the best cookies I’ve ever eaten,” Rick said as he pulled up to her building.
“I’m glad you enjoyed them, but you’re not getting any more.”
“Aren’t you getting stingy,” Rick declared.
“Not stingy. They’ve been my favorite cookies since the first time Grandma ever baked them. I asked Kandy years ago to stop making them for me—she used to do a batch a week—because they’re so addictive, I’d eat every one of them within hours. My clothes started getting tight, and I didn’t have money back then to go out and buy new stuff. Now, she only makes them on special occasions for me. I guess she figured with all the crummy stuff that’s been going on in my life these past few weeks, this classified as a special treat.”
Rick pushed the elevator button. “By not sharing and eating them all by yourself, you’re only going to chance that weight gain again, you know.”
“Good try, Bannerman.” Her eyes narrowed to slits as she got into the elevator. “But forget the psychological tricks. I’m older and wiser and have much more self-control now. I divvy them out and eat one or two a day until they’re all gone.”
“Your control is admirable,” he said with a grin. “We’ll have to see how long it lasts, though. Remember, I tasted them. They’re insane, and they’re like potato chips: you simply can’t eat just one.”
“Watch me.”
He grinned, bent, and then kissed her quick on the lips before the elevator opened on her floor. “It’ll be a pleasure.”
Warmed by his response and the kiss, Abby smiled as she unlocked her door.
“I know this bag is filled with something insanely good,” Rick said as he put it down on the kitchen counter next to the hospital bag filled with Abby’s broken shoe, “but I could really go for a pizza right now. What do you say we put this in the fridge and I’ll call for one?”
Abby had kicked off her heels and was holding a purring Moonlight. “Let me get this straight. You want to forgo a made-from-scratch-with-everything-fresh dinner from one of the best chefs in the country, for a takeout pizza?”
Rick leaned against the counter and shucked his hands in his pockets. “When you say it like that it sounds insane, but yeah. I’m craving pizza. With everything on top.”
Abby stared at him. “Everything?”
“Well, we can compromise if you want. I don’t need everything. I’ll give up a few items if I have to.”
“Define everything.”
With a shrug, he said, “Sausage, meatballs, ham, mushrooms, peppers, a little bacon. Pineapple’s always good.”
“It’s a wonder your arteries still allow blood to flow through them.”
“My arteries are fine.”
“You do realize the only items in that entire selection that have any nutritive value are the pineapple and the peppers, right? Everything else is just…gluttonous.”
“There’s something to be said for a little gluttony. Now…” He wrapped his arms around her waist, and asked again, “You in or what?”
She sighed and settled against his chest. “Eliminate the mushrooms, and I’m in.”
She could feel his smile when he kissed the top of her head.
“I’m going to take a quick shower while you order.”
“I’ll put this stuff in the fridge. What do you want to do with these?” He pulled her shoes out of the plastic bag.
“Leave them on the counter for now. I need to go online and see if there’s any way the broken one can be fixed, and if it can, where I can send it. We don’t have neighborhood cobblers anymore, like we did when we were kids.”
“It’s cheaper to buy new ones,” Rick said while he stocked the refrigerator.
“Not that brand, it’s not. I bought those after forgoing lunch for two whole months.”
Rick stopped, two glass bowls in his hands. “That’s just wrong, Abigail. You’d never see me skip a meal so I could afford a pair of do-me heels.” He finished putting the containers away. “Or anything else.”
“That’s the difference between men and women in a nutshell,” she said over her shoulder. “We’re willing to sacrifice for something we want.”
With that she shut the door—and him—out.
After placing Moonlight down on the bed, where she immediately began turning in a circle and kneading the covers with her claws, Abby shed her day wear, wound her hair up into a knot, and then got into the shower.
The hot spray pounding against her shoulders and back went a long way in releasing some of the tension and stress from her body. With the Edwardses incarcerated, she didn’t have to worry about them any longer. But Joseph Genocardi was still on the loose, and according to Tony, he hadn’t given up the quest to get his son back. Abby still couldn’t see what harming her would solve. Rick believed, though, she was still in danger. Right or wrong about that assumption, Abby did feel safer having him around.
Showered and dressed in another T-shirt—this one said Don’t make me use my Lawyer Voice—and a pair of old sweat pants, she petted her cat who was lying on her side on the bed with her one back leg pointed to heaven as she cleaned herself, then went back to the kitchen.
Rick was seated on the couch, his laptop on the table in front of him, an open bag of potato chips next to it.
“Where did those come from?”
“They were in the bag from Kandy,” he told her never looking up from his typing. “Josh took pity on me and sneaked them in.”
She pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “Why would Josh need to take pity on you?”
If shamefaced had a proper name, it would be Rick, because that’s exactly the expression he wore on his face at her question. His shoulders curled forward a little, his neck almost disappearing into them. The tips of his ears turned ruddy, and he cleared his throat a few times before reaching for his own water bottle and taking a good chug.
He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Answer me,” she commanded when he put the bottle back down
on the table.
She watched his neck work and couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger: the need to hear the answer to her question, or the desire to crawl into his lap and lick his neck—and every other part of him.
It was a testament to her analytical training that she opted for an answer.
“Maybe pity was the wrong word.”
Abby waited.
Rick scrubbed his hands through his hair and cupped the back of his neck. “Fine, but don’t get all pissy when I tell you, okay?”
For an answer, she cocked one of her eyebrows and dropped her chin.
“When we were over there, I happened to mention to Josh you don’t keep any junk food in the house. No cake, no chips, pretzels. Nothing to snack on.”
“Not true. I always have cut fruit in the fridge.”
The breath he blew between his lips told her what he thought of fruit as a snack. “Like I said, nothing to snack on. I kind of told him I was, you know, going through withdrawal, from the lack.”
She couldn’t help it: she laughed.
Rick straightened up in his seat, his eyes squinting at her. “You don’t have to laugh at me. You did ask.”
“How old are you?”
“What does my age have to do with anything?”
“You just said you were going through withdrawal because you haven’t had crappy snacks to munch on. Don’t—” She held a hand up to him to silence what he’d been about to say. “The stuff you like is crappy from a nutritional standpoint. The last time I heard someone complain like you was my nephew Declan when we were all at the beach last month. He’s nine. Which is the age I’d expect a kid to be who’s made a statement like you just did.”
Rick shook his head. “I knew you were gonna get pissy.”
“I’m not being pissy because I eat food that’s actually good for me. You don’t live here, Rick. I do. You can fill your apartment to the ceiling with junk food and I won’t care, but this is my home, my space, and I don’t stock it full of bad food choices.”
“Why are you so hyper-vigilant and OCD about snacky stuff? It’s not gonna kill you to have a cupcake or some cheese puffs, you know.”
“Spoken like a man who can eat whatever he wants.”
“The hell does that mean?”
