Christmas with Daddy

“I’ll push the stroller for you.” Bridget tied the dogs’ leads to the handle, then started along the path at a fast clip.

Nick fell in next to her. “Thanks a lot. I guess I should have been more prepared.” He cuddled Mandy closely. “Don’t worry, honey. Your dad’s an idiot, but he is going to feed you, eventually.”

As they made their way out of the park area onto the city streets, Bridget noticed they were attracting quite a bit of attention. A man and a woman with four dogs and a crying baby…yeah, she wasn’t too surprised people were gawking.

Nick seemed oblivious to the stares, though. He was almost panicking by the time they reached his town house. “Will you come inside?”

She didn’t have the heart to leave him to cope alone. “What about the dogs?”

“I have a fenced backyard. Will that do?”

“I’ll need to give them some water.”

“Not a problem.”

He dug into his pocket for the keys, and then, she was in a place she never thought she’d see the inside of—Nick Gray’s town house. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Maybe sleek furniture, an opulent TV and sound system…a round bed with satin sheets?

But his furnishings were plain and sparse. He had just one reclining chair in his living room, along with the television. In the kitchen down the hall, a newspaper was spread over a tiny oak table. Two folding chairs sat around it.

Nick must have noticed her scrutinizing the place because he apologized. “Jessica took a lot of stuff when she moved out. I haven’t been in the mood to replace it.”

He paused, frowning. “Is something burning? Hell. I forgot to turn off the coffee machine.” Still carrying Mandy, whose crying had turned into pitiful hiccups, he crossed the room and hit the off button on the coffeemaker. Then he grabbed a big bowl from a cupboard and handed it to her.

“For the dogs.” He pointed to the patio door. “You can let them out there.”

“Thanks.” She unlocked the door then released the dogs from their leashes. They rushed outside, anxious to explore. Once she had filled the bowl with water and placed it on the patio for them, she went to check on Nick.

He was kneeling on the kitchen floor, holding Mandy in one hand and pulling stuff out of a pink diaper bag with the other.

He cursed softly. “Couldn’t she have prepared one bottle at least?” He found a can of powder. “Jessica mixes some of this with water. I have no idea about the ratio.”

“Instructions should be on the can. How about I read them while you get Mandy out of her snowsuit. She must be very warm.”

A guilty look crossed his face. “Good thinking.” He unzipped Mandy’s snowsuit and for a couple of peaceful moments the baby actually stopped crying. But as he stripped off the cute yellow snowsuit, he made a face. “Oh-oh.”

Bridget glanced up from the fine print on the can. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s soaking wet. She needs a bath and a new diaper. God, I am such an imbecile.”

And then, as if to signal her agreement, Mandy started howling again.

ONE HOUR LATER Mandy had been bathed, changed, fed and lulled to sleep, in that order. Bridget did most of the work, with Nick watching, feeling like he was on the verge of having a heart attack.

Now, seeing Mandy’s peaceful face, her body curled under the flannel covers, he could finally take a deep, long breath.

“Thank you, Bridget.”

She was on the other side of the crib, looking at him with an odd smile. “You’re welcome.”

“You made it all seem easy.”

“It’s not so difficult. You just need to stay calm.”

Calm. That was funny. “I’ve given that same advice to rookie cops in dangerous situations on the street. I can keep my head when a robbery is going down. But babies are different.”

“You’ll catch on,” Bridget said gently.

“You think?”

“You’ve definitely got potential. As long as you don’t panic, you’ll be able to handle Mandy just fine.”

He wished he had the same faith in himself that she did. “I’ll still need a sitter for when I’m at work.”

Bridget broke eye contact. “I should get going.”

“Oh, no. You’re not leaving until you agree to take on the job. You’ve just proved you’re the perfect person to take care of Mandy.”

The prospect of extra money hadn’t tempted her. What would motivate someone like her? “Please, Bridget? We’ve been neighbors for years and Mandy already likes you. I’d hate to have to leave her with a stranger.”

“Not fair, Nick.” She shook her head at him. “But I will do it. If you’re willing to make a few compromises.”

Years of negotiating with two older brothers had made him cautious. “Yeah?”

“We do this the ecofriendly way. That means organic, homemade baby food, no disposable bottle liners, and definitely no more disposable diapers.”

“You want me to use cloth diapers?”

She nodded.

“God, Bridget.” Cloth diapers would be stinky. And they’d have to be washed. “Okay. But you better be worth it.”

OH, I AM, Bridget wanted to say. I am definitely worth it.

But she wouldn’t be talking about babysitting. She’d be flirting. And where that urge had come from, she wasn’t sure. The situation was far from romantic. They were talking about baby food and diapers for heaven’s sake.

The problem was Nick. If only he had the good grace to look like a respectable father. But no, even in a domesticated scene like this one, he still exuded sex appeal.

Even as she was thinking about that, he stood up and stretched out his arms, inadvertently flexing all sorts of lovely muscles for her to admire.

She shouldn’t be looking. What she should be doing was leaving. “I’d better round up my dogs and get home.”

“I’ll call them in.” As soon as Nick slid open the patio door, all four of the snowy canines barreled inside. Bridget apologized, but Nick didn’t seem too worried about the floor getting wet.

As she clipped the dogs onto their leashes, Nick’s phone rang. After his first few responses, she was amazed by the change that came over him.

Her charming, light-hearted neighbor was suddenly serious and focused. He listened intently, then said, “You bet. Twenty minutes.”

After he hung up, he tunneled his fingers through his thick dark hair, then looked at her with a speculative gleam in his eye.

Oh, boy. “What is it?” she asked cautiously.

“I’m working on this case right now. A runaway teenager. She’s only fourteen.”

“That’s young,” she said.

“By all accounts she’s a good kid, from a good family. We’d like to find her as quickly as possible, for a lot of reasons, not the least because the streets aren’t exactly a safe place for someone like her.”

She nodded, agreeing, and understanding his urgency.

“We had a possible sighting at the mall in West Hartford. My partner’s not available, so I’d like to check it out.”

“Now?” Why was she asking? Of course he had to go now. “I can stay for a while, but I have to be home by quarter to five. Foster’s owner usually picks him up around then.”

Nick’s taut features relaxed with relief. “Thank you, Bridget. You’re amazing.”

Amazing. Nick Gray thought she was amazing. Of course she knew he meant this in a platonic, thanks-for-helping-me-out-in-a-pinch way, but still it was nice to hear.

He went to his bedroom and came out wearing a holster strapped to his chest. She did her best not to stare at this visible reminder of the dangers of his job. Noticing his keys on the floor by the front door, she picked them up and passed them to him.

Bridget was struck again by the domesticity of the situation. This must be what it would be like to be married to a cop. Only, if they were married, Nick would be kissing her goodbye right now…

Right. Dream on, Bridget. You’re the babysitter, not the girlfriend.

“Thanks, Bridget. Here’s one of my new business cards. Call my cell if you need me.”

He’d told her last month about his promotion. She glanced at the card before slipping it into her pocket. “Thanks, Detective.”

He gave her a boyish grin, full of self-conscious pride. “Yeah, I’m a bigwig now. You remember that.”

“I’m impressed. But I still need to be home by four forty-five.”

He nodded.

“You won’t be late?”

“I won’t be late.”

NICK WAS late. But it was only by five minutes. She’d give him another five, Bridget decided, before she panicked.

Mandy had woken half an hour ago and Bridget had changed her diaper and given her something to drink. Now Mandy was sitting on the floor next to Lefty. The boxer had befriended the baby, not seeming to mind at all when Mandy pulled his ears or poked at his whiskers.

The other dogs were still sleeping, worn-out by the long walk and the romp in Nick’s backyard. Herman was on the floor by Nick’s recliner, while Stanley and Foster were settled on the rug by the front door. Clearly they weren’t going to be left behind when it came time to leave.

Earlier, she’d found an old towel and used it to dry the pads on the dogs’ feet, then the puddles on the kitchen floor. And she’d cleaned up the mess she and Nick had made in the kitchen preparing Mandy’s lunch.

Now with the baby happily distracted by Lefty, Bridget had nothing to do. There were bookshelves next to the television. Maybe she should find something to read. Framed photographs next to the books distracted her, though. She found one of Nick and two other men who had to be his brothers.

Nice-looking guys, all of them, with thick dark hair and likable grins. But to her, only Nick had that special something. A sparkle in his eyes, a certain slant to his grin. She’d bet he had been a handful as a little boy.

There were other photos, too. One of an older woman—probably Nick’s mom. She had the same light blue eyes…like the sky on a cold winter day.

Bridget caught her breath when she noticed a wedding photo of Nick and Jessica. Oh my Lord, his wife had made such a beautiful bride. What would it be like to be that gorgeous?

When she was younger, Bridget had often despaired of her own wiry red hair and plain features. But not anymore. Being pretty didn’t guarantee a woman love and happiness. Wasn’t Jessica the perfect example of that? She and Nick may have looked like a Hollywood couple on their wedding day, but they’d never even celebrated their first anniversary.

Bridget moved on to the next shelf, which had been dedicated to chronicling the first six months of Mandy’s life. She smiled at the image of Mandy as a newborn, in her father’s arms. Nick looked happy but nervous.

He still seemed a little nervous around his daughter. Maybe this three-week vacation of his ex-wife’s was a blessing in disguise. He needed time to get comfortable with his new role as father.

She would help him with that.

As soon as she had the thought, she realized she was overreaching. Nick’s competence as a father wasn’t any of her business. Looking after Mandy didn’t change the nature of their relationship. They were neighbors. Good neighbors who looked out for one another and offered a hand, when needed.

Nothing else.

Bridget paced the main floor, as anxious as Lefty during a thunderstorm. Nowhere did she see any preparations for Christmas. No tree, no wrapping paper, no decorations.

Guys without families probably didn’t bother with those things. But Nick had a family now. Surely he’d want his daughter’s first Christmas to be special. Maybe she should suggest…

Oh, Lord, she was doing it again. Getting too involved. How Nick decided to spend the holidays with his daughter was none of her business, either.

The dogs. They were her business. She glanced at her watch. Five more minutes had passed. Still no sign of Nick.

Okay, now it was time to panic.

CHAPTER THREE

BRIDGET WAS ROUTED to messages on Nick’s cell phone. “It’s almost five,” she said. “If you’re not home in two minutes I’m taking Mandy to my place.”

She picked up the baby and coaxed a smile from her. It wasn’t hard to do. Mandy really was a doll. Obviously Lefty thought so, too. The boxer looked up at Bridget mournfully, as if to say, why did you have to take her away?

Bridget bundled Mandy into her snowsuit again, then settled her into the stroller cautiously. To her relief Mandy was perfectly happy to go on another outing.

Still, Bridget was not impressed. If Nick thought he could flash his sexy grin at her and get away with stunts like this, he was sorely mistaken.

NICK HAD BEEN PROMOTED to detective four weeks ago, and he loved it. He loved being able to dress in plain clothes and drive an unmarked car. He loved working regular hours instead of shifts and having his weekends free the majority of the time.

He especially loved the challenge of working on cases and feeling he was actually making a difference.

When he reached the mall, he parked and took out the photo he had of the missing girl. Tara Lang smiled up at him, her large brown eyes full of defiance.

Clearly she hadn’t wanted to pose for this photo. Who had taken it, he wondered? One of her parents, perhaps?

Fourteen years from now, would Mandy look at him like this if he tried to take her picture? He sure hoped not.

A group of kids were hanging out around the benches by the mall entrance, probably waiting for rides from their parents. He studied them as he passed by, but none of them came close to matching Tara’s description.

Once inside he headed for the food court, where Tara had supposedly been spotted. He circled the area, passing Japanese eateries, burger spots, smoothie joints and taco stalls, stopping frequently to show the picture and ask if anyone had seen the girl.

No luck.

He hadn’t really expected it to be this easy, but he’d hoped. Solving this case would be a great way to begin his career as an investigator, since the Chief had made it clear that this case was the number-one priority of the entire department.

Nick went over every corridor of the mall, twice, before finally conceding defeat. As he headed for his parked car, his mind was full of thoughts about Tara Lang. He wondered where she was right now. Was she safe with friends?

Or out on her own?

Was she still defiant and angry at her parents? Or was she scared and sorry she’d run away?

Then there was the worst possibility of all. That she’d been the victim of a crime. Kidnapped, assaulted or even…

No. He wasn’t going there. Not yet. She hadn’t been missing more than twenty-four hours. Her father believed she was hiding out with one of her friends. Hopefully he was right.

As he slid into the driver’s seat, Nick’s focus settled on the time display. Cripes, was it five o’clock already?

Where had the time gone? He opened a window and slapped a siren on the roof of the car. God, Bridget was going to be totally pissed at him.

ONLY AFTER HE’D ARRIVED home and found the place deserted did Nick think to check his messages. As he listened to Bridget’s recording he noticed she’d also left her business card on his kitchen table. Pampered Pooches…loving care for your best friend.

He stared at the slogan for a moment. He knew, firsthand, that it wasn’t an idle claim. Bridget did give loving care to all of her dogs. She had a big, generous heart and he’d taken advantage of that today when he’d convinced her to help him with Mandy.

And now he was late. Not a good first impression.

Using a magnet, he stuck the card to his fridge, then jogged out to the street. Bridget lived just two doors down in an identical town house to all the others on this block. But she’d managed to make her place stand out thanks to her mailbox, which had been built and painted to look like a miniature doghouse.

A dusting of snow covered the sidewalk that led to her door and he could see the tracks of Mandy’s stroller, several sets of boot prints, and lots of doggy paws leading up and down the stairs. He added his footprints to the mix, hurrying to the door, then knocking.

As he waited he noticed two discreet brass placards screwed to the wall just under the outdoor lamp. Pampered Pooches and Bridget Humphrey, Numerologist.

He cringed at the second one, just as the door was whisked open.

“About time.” She sounded annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I should have called—”

Bridget nodded. “No kidding. Nick, if this arrangement is going to work, you need to respect my schedule and my time. I have commitments, too, you know.”

He apologized again. “I just couldn’t resist a second look around the mall.”

Bridget’s face softened. “You didn’t find her?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry. I hope she’s all right.” She stepped back from the door. “Come on in. Mandy’s just had her bottle and now she’s playing with my yarn basket.”

The house smelled…tantalizing. Like oatmeal cookies, he decided as he removed his boots and looked around. The rooms were laid out the same as his, but the similarity between the two homes ended there.

Bridget had put her stamp on this place, made it warm and inviting. The living room was alive with colors and textures, including a fluffy white rug. Mandy sat plum in the center of it, surrounded by dozens of balls of yarn, each one a different color.

He didn’t need to see Mandy’s smile to know that she was loving this. “She’s discovering the world.”

Bridget looked at him as if he’d said something clever. “That’s right. She is.”

As soon as she spotted him, Mandy held out her arms and smiled. In his mind, he imagined her one year older saying “Daddy! Daddy!” the way he remembered his nieces doing for his brother Gavin when he came home from work.

He swung her up, then hugged her. He was surprised by the feelings that swamped him, even though he’d last seen her only a few hours ago. It was almost as if he were choking on one of those balls of yarn. He swallowed, then turned to Bridget. “I’m really sorry I was late. I didn’t want to leave the mall until I was sure the runaway wasn’t there.”

Bridget didn’t seem angry anymore. “Tell me about this girl. You said she was a good kid from a nice family. Why did she run away?”

Mandy reached for the yarn and he set her back down amid the colored balls. “According to her father, there were some typical teenage rebellion issues. Unfair curfews, too many family functions, not enough time for friends. He said they had a big argument on Tuesday night. Wednesday morning, when she didn’t come down for breakfast, his wife checked her room and found her gone.”

“Did she go to a friend’s house? That’s what I would have done.”

Nick felt a flash of curiosity. Had Bridget suffered from rebellion issues in her youth? Surely not. She didn’t look the type. “That’s exactly what her parents assumed she’d done. But when they hadn’t heard anything by the next morning they became worried. Yesterday the mother questioned all of her daughter’s friends, but no one had seen her.”

“Could they be covering for their friend?”

“It’s certainly possible. In fact, I hope that’s what’s happened. It beats the alternatives.”

“An abduction…”

He nodded. “Her father is an important political official here in Hartford. So kidnapping is a possibility. Though we aren’t considering it likely since the girl’s warmest coat, her backpack, wallet, iPod and cell phone are all missing.”

“So she probably ran away.”

“It definitely looks that way. What happened after she hit the streets though…” He shrugged. “Hartford isn’t Detroit, but every city has its criminal elements. A girl on her own could get into trouble pretty quickly.” Especially a girl with no street smarts.

“Maybe she left Hartford?”

“We don’t think so. She’s too young to drive, and we’re keeping tabs on the bus station and airport. It’s possible she hitched a ride from a stranger, but again, that doesn’t seem likely.”

“Her poor family.” She tilted her head and eyed him speculatively. “I’d be happy to try and help you. All you’d need to do is tell me this girl’s full name and birth date.”

He didn’t understand the reason for her question at first. Then he scowled. “Are you talking about numerology?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical. Numbers are all around us, and they have power and meaning.”

“Get real. This kid’s name and birth date isn’t going to tell us where she is.”

“Did I say they would? What numerology will do is give us some insight into what’s in this girl’s head right now. Where her life is leading her.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the offer. But I think I’ll conduct this investigation the traditional way.”

“Lots of intelligent, educated people believe in numerology, Nick. It’s not that strange. If you’d like a demonstration, I’d be happy to show you. Give me your birth date.”

He looked at her suspiciously.

“Let me calculate your life path number.”

“What the heck is a life path number?”

“It’s like a road map for your life, highlighting the opportunities and challenges that you’ll face in your journey through this world. The life path number is the cornerstone of numerology.”

Did she have any idea how wacko she sounded? “Look, I’m sure this is interesting to a lot of people. I just happen to put my faith in things that are more objective. Like the size of bullets, the patterns of fingerprints and the results of DNA testing.”

“Okay. Fine. Forget it. Clearly you haven’t evolved to this level yet.”

Evolved. Right. That was one way of putting it. Still, nutty as he thought this numerology stuff was, he didn’t want to insult her.

He inhaled deeply. “Look, I realize lots of people check their horoscopes every day. I’m just not one of them. And I don’t base my police work on the stars—or numbers, either.”

“Maybe so far you haven’t. But later, if it turns out you do need my help, don’t let pride stand in the way of asking for it.”

He almost laughed. Fat chance of that happening.

CHAPTER FOUR

BECAUSE BRIDGET’S DAYS were busy with the dogs, she saw most of her numerology clients during the evening. This worked well for her clients, too, who juggled their timetables around the demands of work and family life.

Bridget ate a tofu stir-fry for dinner, then went to her office and spent an hour charting. At ten minutes to eight, she put water on to boil. She had tea steeping in an antique pot and two cups at the ready in her office when the doorbell rang.

Annabel Lang was a beautiful woman in her late thirties. Today she wore a trendy sweat suit, the kind that only looked good if you were a size six or smaller.

“Hi, Annabel. Come in.”

Annabel managed only a brief, tense smile. She’d sounded upset on the phone and Bridget led her to the office, concerned that something serious must be wrong.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Would you like tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Annabel had been coming to Bridget for numerological readings ever since she’d heard Bridget speak at a workshop on goal-setting two years ago. Like many of her clients, Annabel was a planner. Someone who thought about her future and wanted as much information as she could get in order to make the best decisions for herself and her family.

She was also struggling with a marriage that was far from ideal. With the help of numerology she was trying to see the bigger patterns in her life as a way to guide her through these rough patches.

“Last night you said you wanted to talk about your daughter.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Bridget pulled out the cover sheet of the report she’d prepared. “Let’s start with Tara’s life path number. I see your daughter as having an overabundance of nine energy in her life. This would make her somewhat naive for her age, highly emotional and unrealistic.”