Mary's Child Page 8

  She lied.

  She wasn’t in the habit of lying to herself—except where Joe was concerned. What she really was doing, she admitted, was making sure Joe didn’t simply pack a bag and leave with his daughter.

  Which, of course, was another lie. She knew he wouldn’t leave—with or without Maura; she only wanted him to. Or to at least try to. Hating him was simpler than the confusion of emotions boiling over inside her now.

  Underneath the pile of lies she fought to believe huddled the reluctant truth: as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t stop watching Joe. Couldn’t get enough of the sight of him, the sound of him, the scent of him in her house. Couldn’t deny herself the close-your-eyes-and-savor taste that same spice left on the back of her tongue.

  Couldn’t rid herself of the imprint of his hand on her wrist, the feel of it wrapped around her fingers. Hard. Strong. Rough-callused. Implacable.

  Warm.

  Tempting.

  She had to watch him with Maura. Her body, her heart demanded it. Had to watch him introduce himself to his baby for the first time, see him discover the wonder of every inch of the minute masterpiece that was his daughter.

  She’d done the same watching Zeke with the boys, but something about this was different. Actually, a lot about this was different, from the means of conception, to the actuality that Maura was related to her by the use of an umbilical cord and breast milk; that was all. But the difference also lay in what she saw, how she felt where Joe was concerned; the fact that he needed to be introduced to his daughter at all.

  The fact that, with Zeke, Hallie had chosen to have children within their marriage; but with Joe, she’d chosen—no, petitioned—to bear Maura for him. For Mary, too, granted; but mostly for Joe. And truth be told, while she doubted she’d have been able to get herself to even consider “undoing” any pregnancy once begun, she’d been particularly adamant about not even starting to contemplate undoing this one. She’d wanted Joe’s baby as fiercely as some part of her now understood that she wanted Joe.

  Appalled, she put out a hand and sagged back against the wall outside her bedroom. Oh, sweet Saint Christopher.

  Oh, hellfire and damnation. She wanted Joe.

  Wanted him now.

  Wanted him bad.

  Chapter 7

  Except for Maura, the rest of the evening might have proved far more uncomfortable than it did for Hallie.

  Before Joe and the baby appeared downstairs, Hallie made phone calls both to the sheriff department’s regular and special squads, and to a friend at the local state-police post. From the regular deputies and the state police she asked to have patrolling units do extra drive-throughs in Zeke’s neighborhood and her own. From the county’s various special squads she requested an early meeting and an undercover baby-sitting-bodyguarding gig at the boys’ school, and with Maura at the house.

  She also—and she was fairly certain this was to her discredit, but swore her justification was self-defense—phoned one of Joe’s sisters to inform the family he was in town.

  His sister Gabriella’s response to the news was a darkly thoughtful, “Hmm. Let me see what I can arrange,” then the line clicked dead.

  Joe appeared with Maura as Hallie hung up after Gabriella.

  “Patrols?” he guessed.

  “And morning meetings.” She shrugged. She’d never had any trouble lying by omission to him. Mostly because she never looked at it as lying and never felt guilty for it afterward. She simply...put things in motion and let the devil in them catch up with Joe in their own good time. “Cooperation, exchange of favors, a little extortion...” A faintly wicked grin shadowed the corners of her mouth. “Lotta guys remember owin’ you this or that when you prod ’em a bit. Anything you need to take down this guy you’re chasing, you’ll get it whenever you want it. Tonight—”

  The hint was broad and Joe didn’t miss it. Couldn’t have if he’d tried.

  “Tomorrow, whenever.”

  “Tonight’d be better for those kids,” he agreed reluctantly. With someone spying on Hallie’s house right down to Peeping Tom photos of the interior, he didn’t want to leave Hallie and Maura alone here—or anywhere—tonight. Or any night. Still...

  He glanced at the spot at the base of the side door where George lay snoring. Hallie had one of the county’s finest in retired tracking dogs willing to die for her and the kids. And as she’d illustrated earlier this evening by sneaking up and catching him unaware, she was also perfectly capable of taking care of herself and Maura—and probably half the county—at once if necessary, and the kids he was looking for weren’t.

  Sure, they had bits and pieces of several federal, state and local law-enforcement agencies looking for them, too, but the public servants were understaffed and overworked and he had fewer jurisdictions to trip him up.

  He grimaced. No matter what he chose, his conscience would play him hell. “Long’s the dad’s still holed up where my info says he is, I can go in tonight, but I’ll need some recon first.”

  “Say where and when. I’ll either make a call or we can drop Maura off at Zeke’s, and George and I’ll go out with you.”

  Oh, now there was a thought he wasn’t sure how he felt about.

  Ignoring the stab of unease, he uncradled Maura who was restlessly nuzzling his chest looking for suction and passed her to Hallie. “I think she’s hungry.”

  “Changing the subject, Joe?”

  He nodded. “Absofreakinglutely.” No minced words there. “But I also think Maura’s bathed, powder fresh and hungry.”

  She viewed him with calculation, not taking the baby. “You think you’re ever going to take her out of here and deal with her by yourself, you’ll have to learn to feed her.”

  “I’ve fed babies before.”

  “Not this one.”

  Joe eyed her suspiciously. “She doesn’t bottle-feed when you’re at work?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then how...?”

  She raised a nonchalant shoulder, let it drop. “I’ve only been back to work a couple of weeks. We tried a bottle the first couple of days, but she absolutely refused it. Wouldn’t take one in the hospital the first feedings after she was born, either.” Then added earnestly, “And I did try, Joe, just in case. I didn’t want either of us to get too attached.”

  She paused, letting that sink in for a moment, and grimaced. “But then I couldn’t stand it. My milk came in and you’ve come back too late. Your mother, my mother or Mary’s mother sits with her and brings her into the office at feeding time. She’s pretty much on a schedule and she’s started sleeping through some nights, so it’s not too bad except on days like today when she’s colicky, won’t accept a pacifier and there’s no comfort but the breast.”

  The moment the word was out, she knew it was the wrong one. Seemingly of its own volition, Joe’s gaze dropped to her chest, taking with it Hallie’s own suddenly self-conscious attention. Attention paid made the area in question tighten up and take notice, too.

  “Damn,” she swore, turning around to pull her shirt and her bra away from her chest to relieve some of the pressure while at the same time trying to appear as though she were doing nothing of the kind.

  It might have been a neat trick if she’d been able to pull it off.

  As it was, Joe stepped sideways to keep her in view. He couldn’t help himself. “Hallie, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, for the love of Pete.” Disgusted she stopped trying to hide her predicament and simply held her bra straps away from her chest, vowing to strangle the man the very instant she had a chance.

  That is, if she didn’t wind up telling him where she really wished he’d put his mouth first.

  “José Guillermo Martinez—”

  The worst thing about finding yourself somewhat enamored of your oldest, best friend and dearest enemy, Joe decided, was that she knew way too much about you—like the name your mother called you when she wanted to skin you alive—before you could show her you were different
.

  But God Almighty and he couldn’t say why—and didn’t care at this point—Hallie sure looked beautiful right now.

  “Dammit,” he heard her say from the other side of the pulse clanging in his ears. “Hand me that kid, and go away and keep your blasted eyes to yourself.”

  “Huh?” He didn’t mean to appear dense, but really, Hallie’s chest could be distracting enough when it wasn’t filled out from pregnancy and nursing, and his body and mind weren’t engrossed in the increasingly persistent desire to view—and touch and a lot of other things—hers the way they were interested now.

  She scooted Maura out of his arms and headed for the living room. “You looked at me and look what happened, you big oaf.”

  He heard the exasperated “duh” where she didn’t say it.

  Like he should have known. I mean, it wasn’t like he’d ever been around her when they were both, as it were, available and she’d been nursing before. And as far as any other nursing women were concerned, his sisters and sisters-in-law didn’t talk to him about such things, and his brothers and brothers-in-law had been grossly negligent about supplying him with the information.

  Of course, maybe they would have if he’d been around during Hallie’s pregnancy instead out chasing a shadow he’d yet to catch.

  Oh good, he thought with resignation. More guilt.

  A thought occurred to him; he decided to share it with—or perhaps that was poke it at—Hallie.

  “You know—” He followed her in and watched as she settled on the couch, unbuttoning her shirt. The sight gave him pause, until his silence dragged too long and she glanced up and glared pointedly at him. He grabbed for control and caught it. Turned his back on Hallie, spotted a baby blanket draped over a nearby chair and picked it up. Moved carefully backward and handed it to Hallie without looking.

  What he could see reflected in the blank television screen across the room didn’t count—except to him.

  Body hungry, lungs tight, and thoroughly envious of his daughter, Joe held his breath and watched until Maura was suckling happily and Hallie had draped the blanket over breast and baby. When he could breathe he cleared his throat and then squatted down, more lazily than he felt in front of Hallie.

  “Get over yourself, Martinez,” she advised, “because if you think you can just waltz through my door after all this time and play dumb, sexy hunk with me, you’re just too full of yourself for words.”

  He eyed her, amused, picking out the one thing she shouldn’t have admitted. “‘Sexy’?”

  “Dumb,” she corrected—but she swallowed, didn’t look at him, and seemed nervous.

  Good. First time today he’d had her at a disadvantage. It was probably evil of him, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d witnessed the phenomenon too seldom not to enjoy it.

  He crouched lower and canted his head where she couldn’t avoid seeing him. “‘Hunk,’” he repeated. “‘Dumb’ might have been in there, too, but ‘sexy’ and ‘hunk’ were right next to each other. Those were the positive words. I never listen to the negative, you know that.”

  Trapped by her own admission, Hallie twisted her neck trying to get away. “Stop it, Joe. If you make me crazy, the mood’ll affect Maura, too.”

  He uncrouched and leaned over her, one hand braced on the sofa arm beside Maura’s feet, the other on the back of the couch. “Are you saying I’m making you crazy?”

  She tried hard not feel his nearness, not to look at him. To concentrate only on the feeding infant instead of on her entire being’s awareness of Joe. “You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

  He bent closer, again forcing her to look at him. Enjoying himself way too much not to end up paying for it later.

  But he couldn’t think about the piper now. “Then what are you saying?”

  Her eyes were wide, her breathing shallow, but it wasn’t fear he tasted in the air around her.

  It was anticipation.

  “Go to hell, Joe,” she whispered.

  He brought his mouth within sipping distance of hers. “Not unless you come with me, Hallie,” he whispered back—and did what he’d wanted to do since she’d tried to slam the door in his face: slanted his head and kissed her just to see if she’d taste anywhere near as good as his body informed him she might.

  She tasted better.

  Hot pepper and chili, corn bread and lime. The flavors in his own mouth. Then finally, underneath it all, Hallie. Coolness and heat in one. Pliability and strength. Softness beneath the hardness of his mouth, gentling him until he could barely stand.

  His arms trembled against the strain of holding himself away from her and the baby, but he couldn’t come down on top of them, and he couldn’t bring himself to give up this “meal.” As greedy as his daughter at Hallie’s breast, he wanted more.

  His tongue chased the seam of her lips, slid between them and drew the sensitive flesh that formed the heart shape of her mouth below the flume between his teeth to coax, to suckle, to inflame.

  Instead a small sound escaped her and her head fell back; she opened her mouth and touched her tongue to his, and he was the one engulfed in lava.

  He felt the groan in his own throat before he heard it. Intoxicating. Exactly as he’d known it would be.

  She drew his lower lip between her teeth, nibbled, then brushed the edge of her tongue along the sensitized area. He thought he felt his toes curl; his body flooded, drowning in heat; his ears roared. He knew he should—he must—come up for air, but his ability to remember why was seriously distracted by other needs: the hypnotic throb of his pulse, the crushing urgings of his sex against the button fly of his jeans.

  And this from a single kiss. Only think what might have happened on kiss two, three and four.

  “Might have” being the operative phrase in that statement.

  With an infant’s infallible ability to choose her moments to perfection, Maura chose this one to come up for air on a gasp, suck in two more great bellyfuls of air, then belch loudly.

  If he’d an inkling where he was, didn’t feel so stunned and wasn’t breathing so hard, Joe would probably have laughed. Instead, when he heard Maura through the din in his ears, felt her waving her fists and kicking, and felt Hallie gasp with her own shock, grab the neck of his shirt and push him away, he could only stumble backward and fold heavily into the nearest recliner, dumbfounded.

  Kissing her the once or twice he had in high school had never felt like this. In fact, he didn’t think kissing anyone had ever felt quite like this.

  Scorching.

  Underneath his hair, his ears burned and, as hot as his face felt, he wouldn’t have been surprised to look in a mirror and find his eyebrows singed.

  He stared at Hallie, took in her air of disheveled bewilderment, her kiss-ripened lips and the startled passion darkening her eyes—feasted visually on her once-again Mauraexposed, milk-dampened breast with its pouting nipple. The pinkened tip puckered and lifted under his scrutiny, rose and fell with each shallow breath she drew.

  His mouth went dry; with an effort he looked Hallie once more in the eye. Jeez Louise and all her sisters, what had he done? If he thought he—his body—had wanted her before, he’d clearly been mistaken. Beside this desire, that one was nothing, a single drop of rain in a season of monsoons.

  He’d known he’d pay for coming home, he just hadn’t known how much.

  On her side of the equation, Hallie could only gawk and blink, dazed beyond her ability to believe that kissing Joe Martinez could reduce her to this—whatever “this” was. Incinerated to ashes and blown away. Kindled alive after a lifeless spell she hadn’t realized she’d existed in—thoughtless, reckless, starving and unbelievably wet from Maura.

  Sighing, she grabbed the cloth diaper she used as a spit bib from her shoulder and tried to cover her breast at the same time she shifted Maura about. Seeing and feeling Joe’s eyes on her bared bosom came under the heading of sitting too close to the fire: she ached for the sensation and feared ho
w easily he could use it to rob her blind.

  Despite the fact she didn’t know him anymore—it had only been an evening, he’d brought danger to her home—she was on some level still angry with him, and he’d already pretty much told her he intended to collect Maura but not stay. Not to mention that somewhere in there she had Mary’s less-than-perfect ghost to contend with.

  She shut her eyes and let her head drop back, sudden perception getting away from her. “Damn,” she said, and meant it.

  In her arms, Maura squirmed and patted her shirt, nuzzling down from where Hallie had half raised her to her shoulder, now looking for Hallie’s other breast. There was a crunch and squeak of recliner parts, then Joe knelt on the floor beside her and removed the diaper from her hand.

  “Let me,” he offered.

  “Oh, jeez, just go away, Joe. You’re embarrassing me.”

  He smiled slightly, and as gently and impersonally as possible—Yeah, right, his body sneered. Impersonal. Uhhuh. You keep tellin’ yourself that. We’ll let you know when you believe it.—he touched Hallie’s breast.

  “I don’t know what you’re embarrassed about, Hallie. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever touched you here.”

  “Yeah, well.” She swallowed against unsought sensation. The worst—or best, depending on your point of view—thing about nursing was how blasted sensitive it made your breasts. Idly, he patted the soft cotton around the outside of her breast and across the top. Why couldn’t she simply ignore his hand the way she wanted to? It wasn’t like he was actually doing anything that should be misconstrued as arousing to her or anything—

  She bit back a groan when his thumb grazed her nipple and she knew she’d never be able to ignore Joe Martinez’s hands. Which meant she should probably push him away. Now what brain button did you push to do that...?

  “The last time you handled this breast neither one of us had any idea what you were supposed to be doing.”

  He wasn’t the least perturbed by her memory of their virgin voyage. “But we know now.” A statement, not a question.

  “My breasts sure as hell know.”