“Okay, I’ll back off. And I had to ask, for the record. In here,” he tapped his temple. “I know that you wouldn’t cheat, wouldn’t lie. Hell, outside of my family, you’re the most honest person I know.”
Guilt took another pass at her, riddling her with tiny, painful bullets. She couldn’t have him thinking she was a plaster saint, not when there was this living, breathing secret between them. “Clay—”
“Yes?”
The words froze in her throat. She was afraid that if she told him the truth now, everything that had come before would disintegrate. She’d be nothing more than a liar to him and he would never be able to believe her again. So she rallied and focused on the larger dilemma.
“Would it be breaking any rules if we went to my house? Tonight?”
“Why—?”
“If John Walken intimated that I was guilty of something, then maybe he planted something either at work or at home.”
Other possibilities had occurred to her. Walken might have had her computer doctored at work, or set up a false bank account in her name. He had access to her social security number. How difficult could it be?
Ilene knew she could look for the information on the Internet tonight, but going to her house was a good place to start.
“No, it wouldn’t be breaking any rules,” he told her. Bending them a little, maybe, but not breaking. He crossed back to the doorway again. “I’ll tell Teri to keep an eye on Alex for us.”
It amazed her how easily his family had taken to her son and vice versa. She couldn’t help wondering what everyone would say if they knew that they were spending time with that first grandchild Andrew had mentioned at Rayne’s birthday party.
At least Rayne would be happy to be off the hook, she thought philosophically.
“Oh my God.”
Ilene enunciated each word in a horrified whisper as she looked around the foyer and the living room that lay just beyond. It looked as if a tornado had gone through it, leaving nothing untouched, nothing standing in its original place.
Even the sofa, denuded of cushions, was moved several feet over, standing perpendicular to the wall.
Her breath backing up in her lungs, Ilene was afraid to go any further. Behind her, she heard Clay’s voice. He was already on his cell phone, calling in this latest invasion into her life.
She felt numb, felt like crying, but she couldn’t allow it to. The state of the house represented the state of her life right now, she thought. Everything had been tossed out on its ear.
Not all that unlike the way it had been when she and Clay had broken up and she’d opted to keep her baby. She’d been alone then, refusing to ask for help from her parents, and instead relying on the money she’d managed to save. She’d stretched it so far it almost tore. It had been the bleakest period of her life.
And without her realizing it, the tears came, silently sliding down her cheeks as she stared at the damage. She didn’t know how to begin to set her life in order again.
Clay closed his cell phone and turned toward her. The tears threw him for a moment. He hated seeing a woman cry. Hated seeing Ilene cry even more. If Walken had been in front of him right now, he would have had trouble keeping his hands off the man’s neck.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have the family come over. We can get this place back in shape in no time, right after forensics goes through it.”
She shook her head, refusing the offer. “And what about my life?” she cried. “How are we going to get that back in order? How about Alex’s life? He’s just a little boy and he’s a fugitive.”
“It’s all in the spin, Ilene, and he’s got a good one.” Clay would have been hard-pressed to have come up with a kid that was happier or better adjusted than Alex. “He’s a little boy on an outing with his mother, staying with friends.”
At a loss as to what to do, Clay took her into his arms.
At first she fought him, fought against the feeling of wanting to collapse there and just cling to him, cling to something that was stable and wouldn’t fall apart. But she was desperate. Surrendering, she let her hands slide down from his chest and just allowed the sobs to come. They racked her body.
He held her for a long time, stroking her hair, whispering something about it being all right. She didn’t make out the words, only the sound.
And it helped.
Finally, feeling like a supreme idiot, Ilene raised her head away from his chest and looked up at him. “I’m getting your shirt all wet.”
He grinned, his heart aching for her. “It’s wash-and-wear, don’t worry about it. We’re going to have to look around,” he told her, “to see if they took anything.” That it might have been a robbery was something that never crossed his mind. The television set was still there, as were the stereo components. But something might be missing because whoever was the intruder had been looking for something beyond just revenge.
Ilene shook her head. “I have a feeling they were looking for my laptop.”
The computer was safe at his father’s house. So were she and her son, theoretically. Only someone out of their right mind would try to break into a place that housed four law enforcement agents.
But right now she was still very much exposed, very vulnerable. And he had no way of helping her with that beyond what he was doing.
Clay looked down at her tear-stained face and began wiping away the telltale tracks with his thumb. And then he did the only thing he could. The only thing he’d wanted to do since the party.
He brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her, hoping something there would reassure her and make her realize that before he’d allow anything to happen to her, he’d give up his life.
He’d give up his life for her, but he wouldn’t give his life to her.
The irony of it vaguely struck Clay as he lost himself in a kiss he’d meant to offer only as comfort.
Chapter 11
H
e wanted her.
There was no use denying it. He wanted Ilene with a fierce, fiery passion that threatened to consume him if he didn’t find a way to contain it.
But just for this moment, for this small, fragile instant in time, he let himself go.
Let the kiss deepen. Let her know without words, in the only way he knew how, that she wasn’t alone in what she was facing. That he was there for her to lean on, to turn to. She didn’t even have to ask.
If desires and passions rose up to try to ensnare him, the way they never could with any other woman, well, that was his problem to deal with. And somehow, he would. Later.
She let herself go. Let go of the reins she’d been clinging to so tightly. It felt wonderful.
And she realized she loved him.
Had always loved him, even when he was no longer part of her life. Because he still was, really. Every time she looked into her son’s deep-blue eyes, gazed into his remarkable face, she saw Clay. Saw him in the way his mouth curved when he laughed, saw him in the way Alex drew his eyebrows together when he was being stubborn. There was no use pretending otherwise. Clay was part of her life, every waking, breathing moment of it.
And he was here now, kissing her and blotting out all reason.
His arms tightened around her, insulating her from the outside world with all its cruelty, its danger. Even though she knew it wasn’t logical, Ilene felt safe. Secure.
The sound coming in from outside the small circle that Clay had created around her was soft at first, then more insistent when it returned. By the third time, it sounded as if Santini was in serious need of a lung transplant.
Embarrassed, Ilene sprang away from Clay as if he’d suddenly turned into a hot pot handle she was grasping. She could feel warmth flushing her cheeks, and she deliberately avoided looking at Clay.
Santini gave no indication he’d walked in on anything more personal than a detective calming a victim. Instead, he looked around the room, his eyes sweeping over the chaos that had once been the bits and pieces of her everyday life. “The rest of the house look like this?”
Feeling self-conscious and struggling not to, Ilene was grateful for the diversion. “I haven’t checked yet, but it looks like they went through everything.”
Santini paused for a split second to look at his partner before shaking his head. “Can you tell if they took anything?”
Ilene looked around again. Whoever had been here had deliberately broken almost everything they had touched. Was it because they were angry at not finding the laptop, or were they just sending her another message? Her insides trembled with anger, with an awful feeling of impotent rage.
The small handprint Alex had made for her last Mother’s Day caught her eye. The bright blue plaster was shattered in three pieces, its paint chipped around the jagged edges. Ilene stooped and picked the pieces up. Very gently, she placed them on the coffee table, struggling not to cry again. Struggling to pull pieces of herself together.
“Not that I can see,” she answered numbly.
Santini nodded. “Not a burglary.” He turned to Clay. “Another scare tactic?”
Clay fought the urge to put his arms around her again. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate it, especially not with someone else in the room. He reminded himself that she was a hell of a strong woman, but she looked so damn frail right now. “That, or they were looking for her laptop.”
“Which you have,” Santini assumed, looking at Ilene for confirmation.
She turned from the broken mold. “Which I have.”
“Good,” he said. Scratching his head, he looked around. Clay knew what his partner was thinking. To the civilian, untrained eye, this still looked like a burglary. Which was right up their alley. Santini turned to him, a hint of an ironic smile on his lips. “Looks like we’re back in the game.”
“Looks like,” Clay agreed. Taking out his handkerchief, he opened it and placed it on the desk beside the broken handprint. He moved the pieces into it and then folded the cloth around it. “I can fix this,” he promised Ilene.
“Forensics is on its way,” Santini told him. “Why don’t you take the lady back and I’ll stay here and wait for them?”
They could read each other without words, he and Santini. At times this annoyed him. Right now he was grateful for it.
“Thanks.” Clay placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder and led her out the door.
Ilene muttered “Goodbye” as an afterthought as she let herself be led back to Clay’s vehicle. She saw a squad car approaching in the distance, saw curtains moving across the street as one of her neighbors, drawn by the noise and sight of unknown cars, looked on.
Feeling numb and shaken by the attack on her home, not to mention Clay’s earth-shattering kiss, she dropped into the passenger seat. Only when Clay reached over to take the seat belt from its resting position and move it around her did she remember to buckle up.
“He didn’t say anything,” she finally commented as Clay started up his car.
He guided the car onto the road. “Who?”
“Your partner.” Then, because she knew she was being obscure, she added, “When he walked in on us, he didn’t say anything.”
Clay grinned. His partner always knew when and when not to talk. “Santini’s a good guy.”
A hostile feeling came out of nowhere. “Does he see that a lot?”
Clay squeezed past the light, wanting nothing more than to get her home. She needed to work at putting this all behind her. “What?”
Exasperated, she waved her hand vaguely. Damn it, she’d gotten carried away by him when she should have kept her feet firmly planted on the ground. What was wrong with her?
“You kissing witnesses, or victims, or whatever the hell category I fall into.”
The sharp tone alerted him. He glanced in her direction, looking for confirmation, before he snaked his way onto the freeway. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me?”
About to snap “No,” she caught herself and took stock. If she was coming unglued, she wasn’t about to do it here, in his car, where he could watch.
“I don’t know what I’m trying to do.” A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she scrubbed her hand over her face. She was behaving exactly the way she always hated women to behave, like a shrew. “My emotions are all over the board and I can’t seem to get hold of them.”
“You need to feel normal.”
“I’m not sure I’d know what that is anymore.” A slight smile curved her lips.
Impulse mingled with instinct, prompting his next suggestion. “How about I show you? Saturday, why don’t you and I take Alex out to the amusement park? Let him have a good time.” As he eased his foot down on the brake, Clay looked at her. “Let you watch him have a good time.”
Gratitude flooded through her. “How is it that you always seem to know the right medicine for me?”
“Instinct.” His eyes were back on the road. The freeway on-ramp was just ahead. “I never lost it when it came to you.”
Except for once, she thought, but she kept that to herself. There was no point in ruining the moment for either of them.
The following Saturday, stirred up by the promise of an outing, Alex bounced out his bed and into her room at the ungodly hour of five in the morning. Ready to roll, he was the very picture of unharnessed excitement.
It had taken her hours to fall asleep and she’d only been at it for less than four. Ilene attempted to rouse herself, even tried to feed off Alex’s energy. But it wasn’t quite enough to successfully transport her from the land of the comatose.
She caught his hand as he bounced up and down again. “The park doesn’t open until nine, honey.”
His enthusiasm didn’t dim by one iota. “We can wait by the door.” His eyes sparkled with glee. “We can be first in line.”
That’s what happens when a mother teaches her child to be early, she thought as she suppressed a moan.
“Why don’t we compromise and wait until eight to leave?” The park was only twenty minutes away by traffic jam. Closer if the cars were moving. It wouldn’t take very long to get there and she doubted Clay would appreciate having to hurry up only to stand in line on his day off. His willingness to take them out was enough. With their present set of circumstances, she and her son couldn’t risk being out in public without Clay’s protection.
Alex gave a mighty sigh, obviously not thrilled at the compromise. Grinning, Ilene threw back the covers and patted the space next to her. Happiness was restored as he wiggled in beside her.
He curled up at her side like a kitten. “I like it here, Mama,” he announced unnecessarily. “Everybody’s nice to me.”
She never lost an opportunity to drive the point home. “That’s because you’re such a polite boy.”
Alex snuggled into the crook formed by her arm. “Mr. Andrew plays with me a lot. He plays really good.” The grin almost split his face as he looked up at her. “He’s fun.”
The correction was automatic. “He plays really
well.
”
Curiosity took the small brows and sculpted them into a pyramid. “Does he play with you, too?”
Unable to bite it back any longer, Ilene laughed and hugged him to her just before she began to tickle him. The sound of his laughter gladdened her soul.
The sound wove its way through the opened vents of the house, working into the fabric of sleep that surrounded the other household members.
Lying awake in his bed, his hands clasped under his head, Clay heard Alex laughing and smiled to himself without realizing it.
“I think you managed the impossible.” Holding the front door open for him, Ilene whispered the words to Clay. The hour was late, and she should have felt like drooping, but she was far too energized, far too wired to realize just how tired she was.
Clay was carrying her son, their son, she amended silently, in his arms, and the sight had almost made her cry. They looked so right together.
For a split second, the words actually hovered on her lips.
Clay, I’ve got something to tell you. Alex is your son.
But even now, in the midst of this warm, happy feeling, she felt an iron bar of fear. The words faded without ever being uttered.
Walking into the house, Clay glanced over his shoulder. “How’s that?”
She nodded at Alex. Heading toward the stairs in the darkened house, she let Clay go first. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve exhausted him.”
As he made his way to Alex’s room, Clay laughed under his breath. “The feeling is mutual. He pretty much exhausted me.”
Clay deposited the boy on the bed his brother used to sleep in. Quickly he took off Alex’s shoes, then moved to cover him with the edge of the blanket. Ilene started to unbutton the boy’s shirt, but he stayed her hand.
“Why don’t you leave him in his clothes? That way you won’t risk waking him up.” Then, in case she needed further convincing, he added, “I used to fall asleep in my clothes all the time.”
Ilene withdrew and let him cover Alex. Glancing over toward the window, she saw that the gathering clouds had finally decided to empty. It was drizzling very lightly. “Looks like we made it home just in time.”
For a moment she stared out the window. The rain reminded her of the first time he’d kissed her.
Stop, don’t spoil a wonderful day, don’t let yourself go.
Mounting a mental defensive against the onslaught of memories, Ilene switched on the night-light Andrew had given her for Alex. He’d told her that it had once belonged to Clay, who’d used it for more than half a dozen years to chase away any demons that might have been lurking in the shadows. The story had made her smile.
Her heart swelled as she brushed back the hair from her son’s face. Ilene slipped out of the room. Clay was right behind her and he eased the door shut.
She didn’t want the day to end, but it edged its way to midnight. “Thank you for today,” she murmured, lingering by the door. “He had a really wonderful time.”
Clay leaned his hand on the wall just above her head, creating intimacy out of a space in the hall. “Yeah, I know.” The boy had thanked him more than once, and he’d been on the receiving end of several heartfelt hugs. It surprised Clay to realize just how much he liked them. “He doesn’t exactly keep things bottled up inside. How about you?”
He was so close now, all she had to do was rise up on her toes and brush her lips against his. And invite trouble. But trouble had taken on a very pleasing form. “How about me what?”
His eyes never left hers as they stirred up everything inside. He began to play with the end of her hair. “Did you have a good time?”
Breathing became more difficult for her. “Mothers always have a good time when their kids enjoy themselves.” Copping out, she looked away.
He cupped her cheek and brought her around until her eyes met his again. “I’m not talking to Alex’s mother, I’m talking to you. To Ilene O’Hara.” His voice lowered so that it didn’t carry beyond the small perimeter their bodies formed. “Did you have a good time today?”
She smiled then, one of those smiles that really got to him, curling up in his stomach and then spreading out all through him. Leaving him wanting more. Wanting her. “Yes, I had a good time.”
“How good?”
The words teased along her face, making her tighten like a bow that ached for release. Her throat felt dry as she said, “Very, very good.”
His eyes smiled into hers. “Yeah, me, too.”
She desperately sought something to say, not to just stand here like some pie-faced, moony idiot, dissolving in a puddle right before his eyes. “He likes you, you know. Alex. He likes everyone here.”
“That’s good,” he murmured softly. “Because we all like him.” Weaving his fingers through her hair, he slowly slid them along her scalp. Making her tingle. Awakening anticipation.
She could feel her pulse speeding up, her heart beginning to go into its dance, the one it did every time he was so close to her. Every time she wanted him. This time was no different.
“By the way, did I thank you for gluing his handprint together?”
“Yes—” his eyes held her “—you did.”
Afraid of what she was feeling, she struggled to draw away, but only managed to place less than a fraction of an inch between them. “Clay, this is getting complicated.”