McIver's Mission Page 9

  "You don't want to have kids of your own?"

  "Not without heavy sedation first."

  "Wimp."

  She nodded. "Yep."

  "Seriously, though. Do you want to have children?"

  "Maybe. Someday." She shrugged, as if she'd never given the matter much thought. "How about you?"

  "Do I want kids?"

  She nodded.

  "Yeah, I do. I always said I'd love to have a dozen, but I think it's probably too late for that. I tend to be a traditionalist about certain things, and I'd like to have a wife before the children come along."

  "So why are you still single?"

  He shrugged. "After my engagement fell apart, it was a long time before I showed any real interest in a woman. And I found myself looking—consciously or not—for someone who was the complete opposite of Jenna."

  "Nikki?" Arden guessed.

  "How did you know?"

  "I lived with her," she reminded him.

  "She saw right through me."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I managed to convince myself that I was in love with Nikki. But she knew it wasn't true. I wanted to love someone like Nikki because she was so different from Jenna."

  "So … um … what happened?"

  He must have heard the tension in her voice, because the corners of his lips curved. "She kissed me."

  Arden frowned.

  "She planted a real kiss on me." He paused, sighed dreamily, covered his chuckle with a cough when her eyes narrowed. "But it did nothing—for either of us."

  "I'm not sure I get the point."

  "There was no chemistry. Nothing."

  "There's more to life than chemistry."

  "Sure," Shaun agreed. "But without chemistry, there's nothing to build on." He brushed his fingertips over the back of her hand, and the sparks practically danced. She pulled her hand away, tucked it in her lap. "We have chemistry, Arden. And I believe we could build something really special together."

  "You're assuming we're going to build something."

  "We are."

  "Don't I have any say in this?"

  "I don't think either one of us does. The attraction between us is stronger than either one of us is to resist it."

  "Then maybe we shouldn't spend any more time together."

  He laughed. "I'd never have pegged you for the type of woman who'd run away scared."

  "I'm not going anywhere," she denied.

  "Tell me why you don't believe in love."

  She hesitated for a minute, considering how much she wanted to say. "People use love as an excuse to justify hurting each other."

  "Who hurt you, Arden?"

  She swallowed, already regretting what she'd revealed. "No one."

  "Then why have you never fallen in love?"

  "I don't want to fall in love," she told him.

  "It's not a matter of choice or preference."

  "Then what is it?"

  He shrugged. "Maybe it's as simple as finding the right person at the right time."

  "Do you really believe there's a 'right' person for everyone?"

  "I like to think so."

  "Maybe you're more optimistic than I am." She smiled. "Or maybe just more naive."

  Shaun laughed. "You might be right. But I do think you could be the one for me."

  "I'm not a good bet," she warned him.

  "I've never believed in playing it safe."

  "There's a lot of stuff going on in my life right now."

  "Tell me about it," he suggested.

  Arden sighed. "I've got at least a dozen cases coming up for pretrial or trial in the next few months. And while I'm trying to prepare for those, I'm also trying to find a temporary—and competent—replacement for my receptionist, who'll be going on maternity leave early in the new year. In a moment of sheer insanity, I committed to serving on the board of directors of Community Legal Services for the next three years. I also have a wonderful but nosy neighbor who keeps prompting me for updates on my new relationship, which is nothing more than friendship, except that the man in question doesn't seem to accept that. And, to top it all off, some nutcase has been sending me threatening letters."

  * * *

  It was the last part, tacked on almost as an afterthought, that had Shaun's blood running cold. "Are you kidding?"

  Arden didn't ask which part of her explanation he was referring to. "No."

  "Jesus, Arden. Have you told anyone about this?"

  "Of course. I've given the letters to the police. They're investigating."

  "How many letters?"

  She frowned. "Why does it matter how many letters?"

  "That night—the first night I went to your apartment, the letter under the door."

  She stiffened. "I told you, that was a letter from my landlord."

  "You lied to me."

  "I did no—"

  "You lied to me," he said again. "I could tell you were scared about something that night, that there was something you weren't telling me."

  She remained stubbornly silent, not acknowledging the truth, but no longer denying it, either.

  "And the next day," he continued, "the gunshots…"

  "The police don't think there's a connection."

  "But he does know where you live."

  She shrugged. "Apparently so."

  "You're not listed. Your number's not in the book. How did he find you?"

  Arden sighed. "I've already been interrogated."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to…" His words trailed off as the full impact of the situation sank in. Despite the copious amount of popcorn he'd consumed, his stomach felt hollow. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to harm Arden—she was so beautiful and warm and generous—but clearly someone did. He'd been with her when those bullets had come through her window.

  He'd believed, because he'd wanted to believe, that it was a random act. Her revelation about the letters forced him to reconsider, and, faced with the very real possibility that her life could be in danger, Shaun knew he would do whatever he could to protect her. Whether she wanted his protection or not.

  "Dammit, Arden. You can't just drop a bomb like that and expect me to accept it with no questions asked."

  "I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said. "I only told you because I want you to understand why I need some space right now."

  She wanted him to give her space? While some wacko was threatening her? No way!

  "You think I'm going to back off because some nut's writing you letters?"

  "I hope so."

  "Well, I'm not. I care about you, Arden. And I'm not going to walk away when your life might be in danger."

  "I don't think the threats are real."

  "How do you know?"

  "It's not the first time I've been threatened."

  "It's not?"

  She shrugged. "Nothing has ever come of it."

  "That's not very reassuring."

  "Like I said, the police are handling it."

  "Have you told Colin and Nikki?"

  "Of course not."

  "Why?"

  "Because they'd worry. And Nikki's pregnant. She has enough on her mind."

  "You have to tell them."

  "No! And you can't say anything to them, either."

  He could, and he would if he had to. "How can you expect me to keep this a secret?"

  Her eyes widened, pleading. "Please, Shaun."

  Damn, he was helpless against those eyes.

  "All right," he agreed reluctantly. "I'll keep this quiet for now. But I want to know if you get any more letters."

  She hesitated.

  "I mean it, Arden. You keep me informed, or I call in the troops."

  "I've been taking care of myself for a lot of years now," she said coolly. "And I don't need or appreciate your interference at this point in my life."

  "Tough." Whether she appreciated his so-called interference or not, he had no intention of letting her handle this situation on her
own.

  * * *

  Arden lay awake in bed later that night, puzzling over the situation with Shaun. She didn't want to get involved. She didn't think he wanted to get involved, either. He was attracted to her, he wanted to have sex with her, but it didn't go any deeper than that. And she resented that he thought he had a right to interfere in her life, as if he really cared. She was handling the situation, as she'd handled everything else in her life—alone.

  But there were moments, like now, when she wished it didn't have to be that way. When she wished she had the courage to admit she was scared and ask for help. When she wished she could open up her heart and let someone in.

  She rolled over and bunched her pillow beneath her head. She didn't want someone; she wanted Shaun.

  She tried to forget about him, but it was no use. Her plan of avoidance was destined to fail if he insisted on showing up everywhere she went. She wanted to be annoyed that he'd intruded on her night with Carly, but secretly she was pleased. Touched that he'd given away prime theater tickets to be with her. No one had ever gone to such lengths just to spend time in her company before, and never had she enjoyed being with anyone as much as she enjoyed being with Shaun. It made her wonder if maybe there was a "right" someone for everyone. And maybe, just maybe, he could be right for her.

  She rolled over again and sighed. There was no point in wishing for things that couldn't be. She'd never been able to make a relationship work. Even Brad, who'd professed to love her, had turned away when he'd learned the truth about her past. Shaun wouldn't be any different, and she'd have to be a fool to think otherwise. She wouldn't be such a fool again.

  Yet, she almost wanted to be. She hadn't been honest with Shaun when she'd said she might want to have children someday. She did want children. She wanted to have a baby so much she ached with the longing.

  She couldn't imagine anything more wonderful than carrying a baby in her womb, feeling it grow and move inside her. She wanted a child to lavish with love and affection; she wanted to be the kind of mother she never had. At the same time, she was desperately afraid that she'd end up being like her own mother.

  She shook off the thought. It was unlikely she'd ever carry a child in her womb when she couldn't sustain a relationship with a man. Because as much as she wanted a baby, she wanted a husband, a family—the whole package. She wanted what Nikki and Colin had found and forged together.

  Arden had been there for every step of Nikki's first pregnancy, she'd watched her belly swell with the child she carried, she'd held her hand through every minute of the sixteen hours of labor. She'd cradled Carly in her arms when she was only a few minutes old: a squalling, wriggling mass still warm from her mother's womb.

  That single moment had changed Arden's life. She felt her lips curve as her eyes started to drift shut. Yes, she definitely wanted a child of her own.

  When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed about a baby.

  She was standing beside the crib, looking down at the sleeping infant. The baby was on its tummy, one arm tucked close to its little body, the other flung wide. She always put him to sleep on his back, as the books said to do, but he insisted on rolling over. His knees were tucked under him, his diapered bottom stuck up in the air.

  She reached down and patted it gently, stroked his back, trailed a finger over the soft, downy hair. The baby's eyelashes fluttered a little, as if he was dreaming. One pink cheek was pressed against the mattress, the other round with the natural plumpness of a well-fed infant. His Cupid's-bow lips were slightly parted and subconsciously mimicking the gesture of nursing. Her breasts swelled in response, reminding her that he'd be awake soon for a snack. He wasn't yet sleeping through the night, but she didn't mind.

  She sat in the rocking chair beside the crib, content to wait. She could spend hours just sitting and watching him sleep, this miracle of life. Her baby.

  She heard something in the hall and glanced at the doorway. She saw the barrel of a rifle just before she heard the shot explode.

  She woke up screaming.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  Arden was still out of sorts when she crawled, exhausted and bleary-eyed, out of bed the next morning. After she'd awoken from her nightmare, she'd given up on trying to sleep. She'd been plagued by similar nightmares since Denise and Brian Hemingway had been killed, but her role had always been limited to that of an observer. It had been years since she'd been a victim in her own dreams.

  She moved into the kitchen and turned on the coffeemaker. She was going to need a lot of caffeine to get through the day on less than two hours' sleep. Or maybe she could just drown herself in the shower.

  She padded into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, adjusted the temperature to cool, shivered as she stepped inside. Ten minutes later her skin was still covered with goose bumps but her mind was at least semifunctional. She followed the scent of coffee back into the kitchen, hoped a good jolt of caffeine would do the rest.

  She was refilling her mug for a second cup when she was startled by a brisk knock at the door. She glanced at the clock on the microwave, saw it was only eight-thirty. She couldn't think of anyone who would be at her door at this early hour on a Saturday morning. Her heart leaped and lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat, as she recalled her nightmare of the previous evening and the anonymous letters she'd received. She walked resolutely toward the door, refusing to be a victim of her own overactive imagination. Most likely it was Greta Dempsey, needing to borrow one thing or another to bake more cookies.

  But when she peeked through the peephole, she saw that it wasn't Mrs. Dempsey on the other side. It was Shaun.

  Arden put a hand over her chest, where her heart had started to dance. Sooner or later, she promised herself, she'd stop reacting this way every time she saw him. She hoped it would be sooner rather than later. She turned the dead bolt and opened the door.

  Before she could say hello, before she could say anything at all, Shaun had her in his arms, his mouth on hers.

  Arden wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotions, so she just closed her eyes and lost herself in the kiss.

  Man, could he kiss.

  His lips devoured her, devastated her.

  She heard a low moan somewhere deep inside her, and everything else faded away. There was nothing but Shaun, and nothing else mattered.

  "Good morning," he said, when he lifted his head.

  She blinked, trying to put the world back into focus. "Good morning," she responded huskily.

  "That," he said, brushing his lips over hers again, "was for last night."

  "Last night?" she echoed, wondering why her brain didn't seem to be functioning.

  "Colin and Nikki came home before I could steal a good-night kiss," he told her.

  She cleared her throat, tried to remember the boundaries. "I thought we agreed that there would be no more kissing."

  He grinned. "I never agreed to any such thing."

  She struggled to remember their conversation of the previous evening, but her mind was still reeling. Still, she was sure she'd objected to the kissing. There was no way they could establish a friendship if he kept kissing her like that, and friendship was all she was prepared to offer right now.

  "In fact, I was hoping that you'd just gotten out of bed," he continued. "And that maybe I could talk you back into it."

  She wouldn't admit that she was the least bit tempted by his proposition. Boundaries, she reminded herself again. "I was just on my way to the office."

  "In that?" He gestured to the old terry cloth bathrobe she'd wrapped around herself when she'd stepped out of the shower.

  Arden felt her cheeks color. She'd forgotten that she wasn't dressed. She'd forgotten everything when he'd kissed her. She tightened the belt on her robe, suddenly self-conscious.

  "After I get dressed," she said.

  "It's Saturday," he reminded her.

  "A lot of my clients work Monday to Friday, so they c
ome in on Saturday."

  "What time's your first appointment?"

  She eyed him warily. "Ten o'clock."

  "So you still have lots of time to get to the office."

  "I'm not going back to bed."

  He grinned. "Of course not. The first time we make love, I want to spend hours just touching you."

  She ignored the assumption implicit in his statement. She wanted to take issue with the arrogance of his words, but she was afraid any denial on her part might sound more like a challenge. And she wasn't sure that they wouldn't end up in her bedroom if he kissed her again.

  "I was only thinking," Shaun continued, as if aware of the internal battle she was waging. "That maybe we could go somewhere for breakfast."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "You'll get through the day easier if you fuel your body properly," he told her.

  Her body was feeling plenty revved and ready to go after that kiss he'd planted on her. She probably wouldn't even need her habitual dozen cups of coffee this morning. "I appreciate the thought," she said. "But I don't need someone to take care of me."

  He sighed. "Why is everything always a battle of wills with you, Doherty?"

  "Why do you always think you know what I need?"

  "Okay. Let's just say that I would like some breakfast, and I would appreciate some company."

  Arden wasn't sure he was being forthright, but she didn't want to make his invitation into a battle. Was she always suspicious? Confrontational? Why couldn't she have just said yes and gone for breakfast? "I could use a cup of coffee," she said.

  "That's what we call a compromise," Shaun said cheerfully.

  * * *

  Shaun ordered blueberry waffles with a side of bacon; Arden insisted she only wanted coffee. Stubborn, he thought, with a combination of amusement and affection. She challenged him, she intrigued him, and every time he was with her, he found himself falling a little bit more in love.

  Love?

  He choked on his coffee, nearly spewed it across the table.

  Arden's brows drew together. "Are you all right?"

  He coughed, nodded. "Yeah. Fine."

  Of course he was fine. He was not in love. That was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed Arden's company. He was undeniably attracted to her. And he wanted—almost desperately—to make love with her. But there was a big difference between making love and being in love. His stomach lurched uncomfortably. He wanted to believe it was hunger pangs, but he knew better. He was halfway in love with Arden, and still falling helplessly.