What Mattered Most Page 15

  Lanie swallowed. “That’s really not an issue. Sex is the last thing on my mind, believe me.”

  Alexandra laughed. “Now where have I heard that before? Yes, taking care of a newborn is exhausting, but you will want to have sex again one day. Make sure you use some type of birth control, Lanie. A lot of women experience an increase in fertility following the birth of a baby.”

  And she’d gotten pregnant this time despite the extreme care she and John had taken. Good thing she had no plans to sleep with him again. Alexandra didn’t need to know that, though. She murmured some reply that seemed to placate the doctor, and finally she was free to go.

  She paused in the doorway to the waiting room. John, his long frame folded into a chair, garnered more than his share of attention. Although she’d been forced to have him drive her to the appointment, she’d drawn the line at having him in the exam room. Now he flipped through an outdated Cosmo magazine, Sonny Buck asleep in the carrier at his feet. Aware of the envious looks the other women in the room sent her way, Lanie crossed to stand before him. She wanted to tell them they had no reason to envy her. “Ready to go?”

  He glanced up, a ready smile on his face as he put the magazine aside. “Everything okay?”

  Under his white buttondown, the muscles in his back rippled when he bent to pick up the baby. Lanie averted her gaze, focusing on her son’s sleeping face. “Perfect. I have a clean bill of health.”

  “That’s great.” He held the office door for her with his spare hand. “You have anything else you want to do before we head home? Shopping? Lunch?”

  The simple domesticity of the conversation clutched at her heart, and she covered the yearning with cool irritation. “Just take me home.”

  His mouth tightened. “Whatever you want.”

  What she wanted was the six feet three inches of pure male sliding into the driver’s seat. Damn it, she wasn’t supposed to think about sex, and she sure wasn’t supposed to think about sex with him. She was a new mother, one who’d gone through two major surgeries—she should be too weak and exhausted to remember what being with him was like. If she had to forget things, why couldn’t she forget that?

  Instead memories sprang to life at the oddest times. She watched him lift Sonny Buck with those long-fingered hands and remembered his touch on her skin. He smiled at the baby, and her body tingled with the recollection of his kisses. He napped with his son on his chest, skin to skin, and she recalled sprawling on his chest after they’d exhausted themselves making love.

  She stared out the window, the Gulf shore whizzing by. Everyday, with the baby sleeping and the two of them alone in the house, the lingering attraction grew harder to ignore. Forgetting Lisa’s words, her implication that John loved her, was impossible, as was resisting the man who cared for her and her child with such tender dependability. Did she really want to resist him any longer? More important, could she handle the repercussions if she didn’t?

  John slowed to pull into the parking lot of the convenience store around the corner from the house. “We’re out of milk. You want anything?”

  “No, thanks.” She watched him saunter into the store, jeans hugging his lean hips. A frisson of awareness slid over her nerves. She wanted him, and he’d always wanted her. Lanie rested her cheek on her hand and eyed him through the window. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, flashed the clerk a smile and handed over a bill. She shivered.

  A transaction. That’s what their affair had always been. Each had something the other wanted. He lived with her for mutual convenience. Other than the baby, they had no strings between them. No real emotion until she’d gotten pregnant and stupidly allowed herself to fall in love with him. Even dumber was believing he loved her, too. If she’d followed her own rules about not getting emotionally involved, his feelings for Beth wouldn’t have seemed like such a betrayal.

  But now her eyes were open. Wanting him was one thing—letting herself have him was quite another. If she took him now, knowing how he felt about the other woman, she had no one else to blame when she got hurt again.

  The wind rippled his hair as he walked back to the car. That little curl of desire sent tentacles through her stomach again, but she ignored it. When he smiled at her, she turned her head. She couldn’t break the rules again. The risk was too great.

  Once home, she took the sleeping baby from him. With his easy-going nature, Sonny Buck maintained a predictable routine. He woke early, wanting to be fed and changed. He took a long morning nap, woke for lunch, took a second nap, then was alert and playful most of the afternoon and evening. His nighttime feedings had gone from four to two. Soon, Lanie thought, placing the baby in his crib. Soon, she wouldn’t need John in the house anymore. The torment of his presence would be gone.

  She’d be safe.

  Fidgety, she wandered downstairs and found John in the kitchen, putting away clean dishes. The drapes were open, sunlight bouncing off the waves and into the living areas. She paused, staring at the hallway wall. In the intense light, the paint color seemed off, the texture different. She ran her hand over the wall. “John? Did you repaint this?”

  He turned, his brows jerking together. Anguish darkened his eyes. “I had it done. I guess the guy didn’t get an exact match on the paint. It’s where your other bullet went wild and hit the wall.”

  “Oh.” Her fingertips slid over the surface, feeling the invisible bumps and ridges of the drywall patch. The horrible sensation of touching wet human skin in the dark rose in her memory, remembered panic choking her.

  “Don’t.” John’s hand covered hers, pulling her fingers from the wall. “Don’t think about it.”

  Surprised by the strain in his voice, she glanced up at him. He stared at her, his jaw tight, tormented guilt etched into the lines of his face. She’d wanted him to hurt, wanted him to suffer for betraying her, but seeing the raw emotion in his eyes brought no satisfaction. Lanie shook her head. “I have to face it sometime. I’m not going to be a prisoner in my own home. I can’t walk into that bathroom, but I will someday. He took enough from me. I’m not letting him take my home, too.”

  Face pale, John flinched. “I’m sorry I put you in that situation. Falconetti was right. I should have known sooner or later he’d come back, that he’d want to get back at me. Touching you was the worst thing I could have done.”

  The words stung, and she backed up a step. Her anger directed at Mitchell for the first time, she didn’t quite understand the urge to offer John absolution. “You couldn’t have known—”

  “Couldn’t I?” he snarled. “Don’t men like him always end up destroying someone? I saw it happen with my mother. I should have known what Mitchell would do.”

  His mother? Struck by how little she really knew of this man, the father of her child, she reached for his arm. “John, what do you mean—”

  “I’ve got to get out of here for a while.” He stepped away, her hand falling between them. “I’m going for a walk on the beach. Will you be all right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I won’t be long.” Moving as though pursued by Furies, he left, the glass door sliding closed behind him with a soft hiss.

  True to his promise, he stayed gone less than fifteen minutes. Lanie, drawn to the bedroom window, watched him walk back up the beach. His head bent, shoulders hunched, his posture screamed of dejection and pain.

  Mitchell had hurt him, too.

  She didn’t want to admit it, but John had suffered at Mitchell’s hands, been a victim as well. He’d been placed in the untenable position of choosing between the woman he loved and the woman he felt responsible for, the one carrying his child. Lanie closed her eyes against a spurt of agony. At least the entry team had spared him actually making that decision and spared her the knowledge that he would have chosen Beth over her.

  God, she was tired. In the nursery, the baby still slept. She opened her eyes. Outside the glass doors, John climbed the stairs to the deck, moving like an elderly man. He was home,
so she could rest without worry. If Sonny needed anything, John would be there.

  From the dark, terror reached out for her with long, wet tentacles. Lanie tried to scream, but the tentacles covered her mouth and nose. Pressed into the darkness, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get away.

  “Lanie! Wake up!”

  Jerked into awareness, she stared into John’s pale face, his navy eyes burning with fear and concern. Sobs shook her body, and he brushed her hair away from her face. “Hush, baby. It’s just a dream. Just a nightmare, honey. Hush, now. I’m here.”

  He spoke in the low, soothing tones he used with Sonny Buck, and Lanie reached for him, burying her face against his neck. He held her close, his hands soothing over her hair and back. “What did you dream about?”

  She tried to find the dream again, but the images were gone, leaving only the terror behind. Breathing in his scent, she shook her head. “I don’t remember. Just darkness and being terrified.”

  Her voice shuddered, and he pulled her closer, rocking her against him. Lanie clung to him, the strength of his arms beneath her fingers. How could he make her feel so safe and so threatened at the same time?

  In his arms, she grew still, the intimacy of their position seeping into her brain. He’d pulled her onto his lap, and her nightshirt had ridden up, bare legs resting on his thighs. With their chests pressed together, her face fit into the curve of his neck. She took a deep breath, his scent overwhelming her, heat curling in her abdomen. A slight shift in position, a rearranging of clothes, and she could have him inside her, filling the emptiness as no one else had.

  “John.” His name left her lips on a shaky whisper, and his muscles tightened under her hands.

  For a moment, his mouth brushed against the incision scar on her scalp. He eased her off his lap and stood. “Think you can go back to sleep now?”

  She stared at him, and he wouldn’t look at her. Didn’t he feel it at all? Of course not. Her teeth bit into her lip. He was here for the baby, not her. She pulled the covers to her chest. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  “Good night.”

  For a long time after he left, she lay staring at the ceiling, missing the warmth of his arms and hating herself for being weak.

  John rolled to his side, reciting radio codes. He’d already gone through his repertoire of sports trivia and statistics as well as the sections of Texas criminal code he knew by rote. Nothing worked. He still couldn’t get Lanie out of his mind.

  The look on her face earlier, when she’d stared at the patched wall, stopped him from going into the other room, taking her into his arms and telling her what he felt. He’d put that look there by placing her in Mitchell’s path. If he’d known what would happen, he never would have touched her.

  Yeah, right. Tell another one, O’Reilly. Like you could stay away from her.

  She’d been a craving, an addiction, from that very first night. The first time, she’d come to him in a sequined black dress, her touch bold and daring on his body. He’d been lost, desperate for more. The passion, always wild between them, flared from a look, a touch, a kiss. And he couldn’t get enough—when the lovemaking was over, he still hungered for her. No other woman had made him feel the same way.

  He loved her, and it didn’t matter. Staring at the silver fish dancing on the wall, he remembered the bargains he’d made with God while she lay comatose. If she got well, he’d walk away. He’d let her go and let her get on with her life.

  His actions had done enough damage to her life. It was time he lived up to his end of the bargain.

  Sometime during his mental wrestling, exhaustion claimed him. He surfaced from a fitful sleep, senses alert. Something wasn’t right. Moonlight filtered into the room, silvery light blending with the amber glow of the nightlight. The angle of light had him lifting his arm to check his watch.

  Four A.M.

  He bolted upright. Had he slept through Sonny Buck’s demand for a three o’clock feeding? Or had the baby even cried?

  Horrific possibilities tumbled through his mind. SIDS. Parents who woke to find their babies dead in their cribs. Could Sonny have kicked his covers over his face and suffocated?

  In his haste to get to his son, he tripped over his own blanket. The crib was empty. His exhaustion-fuzzed mind refused to take in the information—the duck-embroidered cap at the head of the crib, the soft blue blanket pushed aside. Oh God. Had someone gotten in the house? He’d locked the doors. He was sure of it, but had he set the alarm system?

  Mitchell had gotten to Lanie despite the locks and alarm. John’s nerves shivered, fear an icy lump in his gut. Where the hell was his son? A muffled sound from the other bedroom raised the hair on his neck. Lanie. Please, don’t let anything have happened to her.

  He ran, skidding to a stop at her doorway. The bedside light cast a soft glow in the room. Lanie lay on her side, propped on an elbow, the covers pushed back, and in the shelter of her arm lay a kicking, gurgling Sonny Buck. An empty bottle sat on the nightstand. Relief weakened John’s knees, and he groped for the doorframe for support.

  Lanie trailed a fingertip along the baby’s cheek, and a smile curved her generous mouth. Kicking harder, Sonny Buck chortled, his newest talent. The soft, warm sound of Lanie’s laugh filled the room, grabbing John’s heart in a vice.

  “Look at you,” she murmured, a mother’s pride filling her voice. She skimmed a finger over the sole of his tiny foot. “You think you’re something, don’t you?”

  Sonny Buck gurgled, his gaze locked on his mother’s face.

  “You have your dad’s eyes, young man, but I do think that’s a Falconetti smile.” She stroked his head, ruffling his wispy, dark hair. “I’m going to have to keep an eye on you. On a male Falconetti, that smile is lethal to a girl’s heart. We can’t let you turn into a Lothario, like Vince and Tony. You are going to have to grow up to be a one-woman man. A girl has to know she can trust you.”

  The words landed like blows to John’s solar plexus. He took a silent step back, his gaze locked on the pair in the bed. Sonny Buck cooed, and Lanie pressed a kiss to his forehead. Absolute love suffused her face, and unexpected envy rolled through John’s chest. She wouldn’t look at him that way again.

  He pushed the selfish jealousy aside. This was what he wanted—seeing her connected to their child, knowing Sonny Buck had claimed his place in her heart. The reality jolted through him, a sickening emptiness taking hold of his stomach. She didn’t need him around anymore. His time was up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The phone tucked between her chin and shoulder, Lanie relaxed into the Adirondack chair and tilted her face to the sun. The sliding glass door behind her stood open so she could hear Sonny Buck if he cried. With John in Houston for the day, they were alone in the house, and she should have felt at peace. Instead, she found herself fidgety and inattentive, drifting from one unfinished activity to another.

  Caitlin answered on the third ring, her Bureau voice cool and professional. “Falconetti.”

  “Hey, it’s Lanie.” A gull swooped over the water, and Lanie pulled her feet under her.

  “Well, hey. How are you?” Affection warmed Caitlin’s voice.

  “Great, according to my doctors. What are you doing?” Lanie leaned back, letting her cousin’s familiar voice settle her jangling nerves.

  “Right this second? I’m looking at a set of crime scene photos.” A pause hissed over the line. “Lanie? Is something wrong?”

  “No, of course not.” Lanie winced at her too-cheerful tone. “I’m fine.”

  Caitlin chuckled. “Oh Lord. Now where have I heard that before?”

  “Everything’s fine. I’m doing great; the baby’s wonderful. I call to chat because I’m at loose ends, and you assume something’s wrong. Can’t I just call because I miss you?”

  Papers rustled. “Sure you can, but if I say you doth protest too much, are you going to bite my head off again?”

  Lanie groaned, sinking lower in the chair. “P
lease don’t quote Shakespeare at me. You know I never could stand him.”

  Caitlin’s soft laugh soothed the trembling in Lanie’s stomach. “Come on, Lane. It’s me. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” Lanie covered her eyes with one hand. “Cait, I’m so confused.”

  “What’s wrong?” Another pause. “Are you still feeling distant from the baby?”

  “No. He’s perfect.” With her eyes closed, Lanie could pull up the feel of him in her arms, his sweet just-bathed scent, the sound of his happy gurgle. A fierce wave of love washed over her. “I can’t explain how I feel about him. I’ve never loved anyone like this.”

  “Oh, no, it’s O’Reilly, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to want him—”

  “But you do.”

  “It’s being in this house with him all the time. Watching him with the baby, sharing a bathroom with him so that all I smell is his soap… It’s driving me insane.” Just thinking about him had heat curling in her. What did that say about her—wanting a man she couldn’t trust?

  “Isn’t his leave almost up? Y’all agreed he would move out then, right? Will that help—having him out of the house?”

  He was out of the house today, and every thought she had focused on him. She’d started a load of laundry earlier, and each piece of clothing he owned triggered a memory of the two of them together. Being out of bodywash forced her to use his soap, and now his scent clung to her skin. Even Sonny Buck seemed part of the conspiracy, staring up at her during his feeding with navy eyes so like John’s that her heart ached.

  “Lanie? Are you still there?” Concern lingered in Caitlin’s words.

  “I’m here.” She sighed. “I don’t know if his moving out will help or not. I just… Part of me wants what we had, and part of me knows that wasn’t enough.”

  “I can’t tell you what to do, but…” Caitlin’s voice trailed away, a deep male drawl an indistinct rumble in the background.