Saving Alyssa (Mills & Boon Heartwarming) (22 page)

As predicted, Billie logged three, maybe four hours sleep. But she didn't feel the least bit tired. Too excited, she guessed, about performing duties that could be described as wifely and motherly. She showered and took her time with her hair and makeup. Took her time choosing an outfit, too. If this turned out to be the last time Noah saw her, she wanted the memory to be lasting...and positive.

She packed the car with everything she'd bought and baked and cooked, and drove to Noah's. He'd offer to help carry things, but he wasn't physically ready for climbing and toting. Smiling to herself, Billie wondered how long she had to put her birthday decorating plan into motion.

Her Uggs boots—soft, warm and quiet—allowed her to dart up the steps without making much noise. As she reached the landing, she made a mental note to sweep and salt the steps, just as soon as she'd put the groceries away, to keep Alyssa's guests from slipping. Then Billie would put Alyssa to work, tying helium balloons to the chair backs and weaving crepe paper streamers through the railing pickets. And Noah? He could help hang the Happy Birthday banner and—

A peculiar sound stopped her in her tracks. Billie didn't move, scarcely breathed, trying to identify its cause and source. Craning her neck, she peeked between the spindles. She saw Noah's shoes first...then dark blue socks and the rust-colored stitches that hemmed his jeans. Billie didn't need to see more to know he was crying.

Every womanly instinct said, “Get up there and comfort him!” But common sense—and lessons learned from being raised with two older brothers—stopped her. Noah was a proud man who'd gone to extremes to protect his privacy. If she went up there now, he'd only resent her for witnessing his temporary weakness.

Billie took care, heading back down the staircase. She opened the car door, then intentionally slammed it with every bit of power she could muster. Might as well grab some of the groceries, she thought, as long as she was down here. So she made lots of noise opening and closing the trunk, too.

It wasn't easy, stomping back upstairs in her soft-soled Uggs, but she managed to produce an audible thump
 
with every slow step. She wanted to give him as much time as possible to pull himself together.

“Hi,” she said, forcing cheeriness into her voice that she didn't feel. She wanted to know what had happened to cause his tears. “What are you doing out here in the cold?” she asked. “You'll catch your death!”

He didn't answer, but held the door open instead. Billie hurried inside, wondering if after-accident pain had driven him outside in the snow....

“Just one more trip,” she told him on the way back down.

She decided to talk. A lot. About the party and the guests. About the weather. About anything that would distract him from the pain. When she returned with the last of the food and decorations, Noah closed the door behind her, and after hanging their jackets on the hall tree, began poking into the packages lining his counter.

“What's all this?” he asked. “I thought you were just bringing a cake and some potato salad.”

“Can I help it if the cooking-baking bug bit me?” She hid her amusement by sticking her head in the fridge, pretending to look for places to store everything until party time.

“Guess I forgot to tell you what time the party starts.”

“Three o'clock, right?”

“Right...”

“I'm early, I know. I just thought you might need a hand setting things up. Answering the door. Keeping the kids corralled while you're outside grilling.”

She shut the fridge door and started unpacking the decorations as Alyssa ran up and wrapped her arms around Billie's waist.

“I'm so glad you're here!” the little girl said.

“Me, too.”

It was hard to believe she'd started out disliking this kid, that in the beginning, she hadn't
wanted
to like her. Now? Now she looked forward to the enthusiastic greetings and surprisingly exuberant hugs, and it felt so good, knowing that every time she blurted “I love you!” she meant it. Billie didn't know how to define her feelings for Alyssa, but she cared. Deeply.

When Noah left—if Noah left—she wouldn't worry about him. He was a full-grown man who'd proved himself very capable of taking care of himself. Alyssa, on the other hand, needed more than his protection. She needed stability. A woman's guidance. A mother's love. And Billie wanted to provide it. If that was love, so be it. Adjusting to life without Noah would be hard. Adjusting to life without Alyssa...

Billie shook off the horrible thought.

“Want to help me decorate?”

“Yes!”

She showed Alyssa what to do, then looked for Noah. She found him at the window of his room, left hand tucked into his side pocket, right fingers wrapped around the curve of his cane. Billie walked up beside him, linked her arm through his.

“Hey.”

He looked down at her. “Hey, yourself.”

“You feeling okay?”

“Better, now that you're here.”

In the past, Billie had prided herself on being decisive. When she made a promise, she kept it. When she chose to do something, she did it, and she never knowingly started things she couldn't finish. Trying to save her marriage to Chuck had been proof of that. Since meeting Noah, though, only one word described her:
fickle.

Not ten minutes ago, she'd had every intention of talking nonstop to keep his mind off his troubles. But now she thought talking was exactly what
he
needed to do.

“I don't want to pry, Noah—and I know everyone says this—but I'm a good listener. And when I give my word to keep things to myself, I do.”

Noah nodded. “I believe you.” He looked out the window again. “Don't worry. I'll snap out of it before everybody gets here.”

Snap out of what? she wondered. His fingers opened and closed, opened and closed around the grip of his cane. She rested her free hand atop his knuckles.

“Are you in any pain?”

“Not the kind you think.” He focused on their hands, and without looking up, said, “Any of that stuff on the counter need refrigeration?”

Billie knew a dismissal when she heard one. But she didn't intend to give up just yet.

“Only the potato salad. And the whipped cream.”

“Why do we need whipped cream?”

“Can't have strawberry shortcake without it.”

“Strawberry shortcake? For a little girl's birthday party?”

“Of course not. The cake with the roses and fancy trim is for the party. I made the shortcake for you.”

His brows drew together slightly. And then he stared out the window again. “I prefer mine plain.”

“I think there's some kind of law against that.”

He looked at her again.

She almost said, “I guess as a former D.A., you'd know the law.” Instead, Billie said, “Well, guess I'd better get the perishables into the fridge.” She didn't know what to make of the way he was looking at her.

“Don't worry. I've almost snapped out of it,” he whispered, gently grasping her upper arm.

“Almost?”

“Guy can't enjoy his kid's party,” he said, turning her slightly, “with a thank-you hanging over his head.”

“I wouldn't let self-pity ruin my kid's party.”

He took a half step closer. “And I apologize for not thanking you. For coming over here early, baking the cake, bringing side dishes and party decorations.”

“Sure you did. Last night. On the phone. Twice. Three times, even.” She raised her eyebrows. “Remember?”

His arm slid around her waist and he pulled her close, so close that she could feel his heart beating hard against her chest.

Noah buried his face in her hair. “If only,” he whispered, and then leaned back to study her face for a long, agonizing moment.

If only what? she wondered as he licked his lips. Would he kiss her? And if he did, would it mean “I care,” “Goodbye” ...or both.

His lips touched hers, gently at first, then more insistently.

And Billie knew that if his situation demanded another escape, she wouldn't let him go without her.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“J
EFF
 
THROWS
 
A
huge New Year's Eve party every year,” Troy said, handing her an invitation. “From what I hear, it's top of the line, all the way.”

“He's inviting
me?
” She laughed. “I have absolutely no desire to attend a black-tie gala, all by myself.”

“You won't be alone. He invited Noah, too.”

“Right. Noah. Who won't walk ten steps away from Alyssa—” Billie pointed at the line in the invitation that said Four Seasons “—driving half an hour to the Inner Harbor. You're a laugh a minute!”

She dropped the card on the kitchen table. “I guess you have to go, though, huh, since Jeff is your boss.”

“Hey. Have you
met
me?” Her brother laughed. “When have you ever known me to turn down free food? And since it includes a night at a fancy-pants hotel, I wouldn't say no, even if Jeff wasn't my boss.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Besides, I'm not going alone.”

“What?” Billie sat at the table. “Park it, brother, and start talkin'.”

He told her about the woman he'd met at the office.

“She's older than me,” he said, “but doesn't look it. Her husband died eight years ago, left her to raise two kids, who are in high school now. She's smart and sweet and funny. I tell ya, Billie, I've never met a woman who could make me laugh the way she can. Knows exactly who she is and what she wants.”

“And you hope that's you?”

“Yeah.” An odd, shy little smile lit his face. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He looked so happy that Billie didn't have the heart to voice her concerns.

“I can hear the wheels spinning from all the way over here. What are you thinking?”

“Only that if she ever hurts you, I don't care if she's a ninety-year-old female Sumo wrestler.”

“Female Sumo...is there such a thing?”

“I have no idea.”

They shared a moment of laughter, and then Troy said, “So how was Alyssa's birthday party?”

“Nice. Real nice. The kids had fun, I think, and Noah is a pretty good host...for a shy, secretive, overprotective, too-stubborn-to-admit-he's-in-pain dude.”

Troy's eyebrows rose. “The leg's still giving him problems, is it? I feel rotten about that. If he hadn't pulled me out of the car—”

“You wouldn't be here. I'm sure he has no regrets. You'd have done the same for him.”

“I certainly hope so.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So how was the party? Did Alyssa make a good haul?”

“I'll say! I have no idea how it's all going to fit in her little room. I think she was a bit disappointed that you couldn't come to the party.”

“She said that?”

“Didn't have to. When I left there last night, she was still working on a special art project to thank you for the DVDs. Just wait until you see it.”

Thank you.
Would Billie ever hear that phrase again without thinking of those intense, sizzling moments in Noah's room? She exhaled a sigh. Not likely.

“She's a sweet kid. Just the kind I'd want...if fatherhood was in my future.”

Ah, Billie thought. So he had considered the likelihood that his new lady friend didn't want more children.

“You've always wanted kids, so why wouldn't fatherhood be in your future?”

“I'm not getting any younger.”

“Please. I could name a dozen movie stars who fathered kids long into their seventies.”

“If this thing with Sheila goes where I think it might...” Troy shook his head. “She doesn't want any more kids.”

And there it was, the answer to her question. Funny, but it made Billie sad, because Troy would make a great dad.

“At least she was honest with you. If having kids is still high on your priorities list, it's early enough in the relationship to move on, find someone who shares your goals, before either of you gets hurt.”

“Is that what you're doing with Noah? Keeping a safe distance because you're planning to move on?”

“There's nothing to move on from, Troy.”

“Could've fooled me.”

The comment—and the undercurrent of disappointment in his voice—surprised her.

“You
did
fool me,” he continued. “I would have sworn you were falling for the guy. That you were crazy about the kid, too.” He shrugged. “But then, I remember what you used to say about kids...that they're messy and loud. Rude. Grabby.” He shook his head. “It's your life. That's all I'm going to say.”

And then he left to update Jeff on the franchise owners he'd met with earlier in the week. He'd no sooner gone than the phone rang, and dread swirled in her heart when she saw Noah's number on the screen.

“Hello, Billie. It's me, Alyssa.”

The last person she wanted to hear from right now. She needed time to process the truths Troy had unearthed.

“Hi,” Billie said. “How's the birthday girl?”

“I can't find places for my new toys. My room looks
awful.
When Daddy saw it, he said, ‘Think like Billie. She's the most organized person I know.'” Alyssa sighed.

Surely, Noah didn't really expect her to go over there, help his daughter put her room in order. The better question was what if Alyssa was lying about this, the way she'd lied about the allergy pill? Why, Billie would look like a fool, barging into his home to rearrange his little girl's room!

“Will you take the phone to your dad for me?”

Billie heard the receiver hit the kitchen counter with a clunk. A small voice, a baritone...then heavy footsteps.

“Hey, Billie. What's up?”

“Couple of things, actually. Wondering what you're going to do with your invitation to Jeff's New Year's Eve gala, for starters.”

“RSVP a polite no, of course.” He hesitated, then said, “Why? Are you going?”

“No.” She felt like a fool admitting it, even to herself, but she didn't want to go if he wouldn't be there, too.

“You could come over here. Alyssa has been pestering me to call you all day, to see if you'd help her figure out how to arrange things in her room. I don't expect you to, of course,” he quickly added. “But I'm sure she'd get a kick out of watching the ball drop with us.”

Billie spotted some tickets on her desk, where they'd been since last week when a client had given them to her. “I have tickets to watch the fireworks from the top of the science center. I was going to give them to Jeff and his family, since they'll be downtown anyway, but if you think she'd enjoy it...”

“She'd love it.”

If he thought she was going into that crowd with Alyssa by herself, he had another think coming!

“I have four tickets.” Hopefully, he'd get the hint.

“What time do we need to be at the Inner Harbor?”

“I'll pick you up at nine-thirty,” she said. “That way, you don't have to worry about getting behind the wheel with Percocet in your system.”

“I can skip a dose.”

“But you won't. I have parking passes, so that'll save you having to walk from one of the garages.”

A long pause followed her offer, and Billie wondered what excuse he was cooking up to back out. She stood straighter. If he thought she was going to let him hear regret in her voice, well, he had another think coming on that score, too!

“Why wait until nine-thirty to come over? If you get here at six or seven, we can order a pizza.”

“That's a great idea.”

Her instant reply didn't surprise her nearly as much as the disappointment she felt, looking at the clock and realizing it was only four o'clock.

* * *

H
E
 
HADN
'
T
 
EXPECTED
 
a visit from Max.

“Don't you have any life of your own?” he asked when she let herself in. “It's New Year's Eve, for the love of Meb.”

“For your information,” she sniffed, “I have a date.”

Only when she opened her coat did he realize she hadn't worn her hip-length leather jacket.

“Wow,” he said, taking in her sparkly red dress. “Tight as that thing is, where will you stow your badge?”

She patted the small purse hanging from a thin strap draped over her shoulder. “Be quiet and sit down,” she said, faking a sneer. “I stopped by to give you some good news.”

Max reminded him that several weeks earlier, O'Malley's nephew had walked into the wrong room at the wrong time during a visit to Stateville, and never walked out again.

“Seems the senator didn't appreciate having his only conduit to the real world shut down that way,” she continued. “He picked a fight with the inmate he thought was responsible for Nigel's death, and ended up in the infirmary...where he died of a stroke a couple of weeks ago.”

Noah wished he'd taken her advice to sit down, because the news rocked him.

“No way.” He'd been looking over his shoulder for so long, he wondered if he could stop. “O'Malley is dead. Really?”

“Really.”

She was smiling, but only a little, and Noah didn't know what to make of that. He dropped heavily onto the seat of his recliner and looked up at her.

“Does that mean I get my life back? Or did that... Did he pay someone to keep the heat on, in case he died in prison?”

Max sat across from him. “I've spent the past two weeks on this, Noah. Not just me, three other marshals, too. With Nigel gone, there's no one left to deliver orders...or payments. So near as we can tell, it's over.”

When he first went into the program, Noah used to dream something like this would happen. But as the months turned into years, he'd decided it was healthier—and less painful—to accept his fate. But now?

“You're sure. O'Malley is really dead.”

“I can probably sneak the death certificate over here if you need proof.”

“I—I don't know what to say.” He shook his head. “I just can't wrap my mind around it.”

Max got up, and halfway between the couch and the recliner, she nodded. “Happy New Year, Noah Preston,” she said, sitting on the arm of his chair. And sliding an arm across his shoulders, added, “Unless you'd rather go back to being Nate Judson.”

She told him it was safe to reconnect with his family. Safe to take Alyssa back to Chicago. Safe to admit his feelings for Billie...

And make Alyssa's Christmas wish come true.

But first things first. He picked up the phone and dialed his parents' number.

* * *

B
ETWEEN
 
RECONNECTING
 
WITH
 
his family and physical therapy, Noah found the weeks sped by. When he called to reserve a small, private dining room at Tersiguel's, he expected to hear that, this close to Valentine's Day, the restaurant was fully booked.

“You're in luck,” said the reservations clerk. “We just had a cancelation.”

Noah didn't ask if there was a waiting list, or why the top name on it didn't qualify for the special table. He saw it as a sign, and jumped on it. Then he called Max, who was only too happy to stay with Alyssa. After making two additional calls, he went and found Alyssa in her room, humming as she rearranged furniture in her Barbie town house.

He sat on the corner of her bed. “Hey, cupcake. Come sit with me for a minute,” he said, patting the mattress. “I have a question to ask you.”

“What?”

“Remember at Billie's on Christmas, when you wished she could be your mom?”

His daughter frowned and went back to moving tiny tables and chairs. “Yeah, I guess that was a dumb thing to say, wasn't it?”

Noah hadn't known what to expect. Surely not that. “What do you mean?”

She sat back on her heels and looked up at him. “Do you think it made Mommy sad, hearing me say I wanted a
new
mother?”

“Aw, baby.” He sighed, pulling her onto his lap. “No. No way. Your mom knows how much you love her, that you'll never
stop
loving her. But she knows you need somebody in your life. Somebody who can tell you things and teach you things that I don't know anything about, because, well, because I'm a
guy.
”

“Somebody like Billie...”

“Somebody like Billie,” he echoed. “It won't hurt Mommy's feelings if you love Billie. In fact, I believe if she could, she'd tell you how happy she is that a really nice lady has come into your life, to take care of you, to love you, to help you do girl stuff.”

Alyssa stared at him for a moment, then said, “Whew.” She tugged at a loose string hanging from a button on his shirt. “Bet Mom's glad for someone to take care of you, too.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I bet she is.”

“Do you miss her, Daddy?”

Noah swallowed. Dangerous territory, he told himself, considering...

“Yeah, I do. I guess I always will, in some ways. But you know what? I don't miss her nearly as much as I used to. Thanks to Billie.”

Alyssa laid her head on his chest. “Me, too.”

He kissed her forehead. “So if it's okay with you, I'm going to ask her to marry me. Tonight. Over dinner at Tersiguel's.”

She hopped off his lap and stood in front of him. “Really?” She rested her palms on his knees.
“Really?”

“Really.”

She glanced around her. “I hope we can live at her house. After the wedding, I mean.”

He took the ring from his pocket. “Can you keep a secret?”

Eyes wide, she stared at the minuscule jewelry box. “Yeah...”

Noah opened the box. “This is Billie's engagement ring. Well, it will be, if she says yes.”