Lullaby for Two / Child's Play

He eyed her assessingly. “Does he still control your life?”

Was that what Vince had always thought?

He’d never really understood her relationship with her father. But she wasn’t going to be able to explain it to him over a ten-minute cup of tea. He’d never gotten to know her dad and that had always been part of the problem.

Her father had been protective of her when she was a teenager, afraid Vince would ruin her life. That’s why he’d been opposed to them dating. When they’d married, he’d disowned her, hoping that would bring her to her senses. Instead she’d held on to Vince and the life they could have. Until she’d lost the baby.

A protective urge rose up in her—the urge to protect her dad and to protect herself. It was close to anger, close to rebelliousness, close to all the words she’d never been able to say to Vince because he’d left and hadn’t wanted to hear them. “You said you wanted to chip at the ice walls between us. I don’t think this is the way to do it.”

He leaned away from the table in obvious frustration. “I don’t know how else to say it, Tessa.”

She saw he was being sincere. She matched that sincerity with the truth. “My dad and I are close, but we have separate lives. He respects the decisions I make.”

“Did he ask you to come back to Sagebrush?”

She’d never had a short fuse. In fact, she’d always thought she’d been blessed with an overabundance of the gift of patience. But Vince had always made her question herself and her feelings, what she thought and what she believed. She reacted more strongly whenever she was around him, to him and to everyone else.

She tried to keep her voice steady. “Actually, he didn’t want me to come home. He didn’t think that was good for my career. But he got tossed by a two-year-old horse he was trying to gentle and broke his arm. He could manage. He had help. But when I came home to visit, I could see how he was slowing down. I’d been so focused on med school and residency, my visits had been brief. I took a good look at my life in California and didn’t feel particularly attached. When I heard about the Family Tree Health Center opening, I decided to take the opportunity to come back. Does that answer your question?”

“Not exactly.”

She laid her fork down, most of her pie uneaten. “Well, it’s going to have to do.” She picked up her purse and portfolio. “I’d better be going.”

Vince stood, too.

“You can finish.”

“I’m not letting you walk back to your car alone.”

“This is Sagebrush, Vince.”

“Yes, and I’m the chief of police. I know what goes on here.” He took some bills from his wallet and laid them on the table.

She was going to protest, say she’d pay her half, but the look on his face told her just to head for the door. After a wave at Mindy, she pushed outside. A second later Vince was beside her, silent, not brooding, but definitely pensive.

After half a block he asked, “Did you miss anything about Sagebrush when you were gone?”

A glance at him told her that was a serious question. “I missed the ranch—the horses and cats, and particularly the smells. You know, old wood, saddle leather, sage, brush, the sun heating the damp grass. Mostly I missed riding.”

“You couldn’t find a stable in California?”

“Oh, sure. I went riding a few times. But it wasn’t the same and I simply didn’t have the time. After my shifts, I was dead on my feet. I snatched sleep when I could, studied, and didn’t have much of a life outside of work.”

“Were you in a pediatrics practice out there?”

“After my residency. I also volunteered at a free clinic. But I knew I’d burn out if I kept working at that pace.”

They walked another half block without speaking. Tessa, curious about the path Vince had taken, asked, “Did your law enforcement interest begin in the service?”

“I was stationed at Kirkland Air Force Base in Albuquerque all four years because I was in law enforcement.”

“But why the interest in the first place?”

There was a very long pause before Vince answered, “You knew my mother left. What you didn’t know was that she was murdered.”

Tessa stopped walking and turned to him, her hand on his arm. “Vince. I’m so sorry. You never said anything—”

“It wasn’t something I wanted to remember or talk about. Still don’t, really. She left me and my dad, went to New Orleans and was murdered by a lover. That’s the long and short of it. So I guess I felt I was doing something to right what had gone wrong. That’s not rational of course, but it led me where I am.”

She could feel his taut muscles under his blazer. In the glow of the streetlamp, she could see a beard shadow darkening his jaw. What she couldn’t see was the expression in his eyes under the brim of the Stetson that shadowed them. Even so, due to her imagination or not, she could feel heat emanating from him, rising up from her, and currents rushing from her body into his and back again. She let go of his arm.

They began walking again and soon reached the school’s parking lot where their cars were the only two left. His was a silver SUV. Hers was a small blue sedan. They were both in the front line of the lot about ten spaces apart.

He kept pace with her as she walked toward her car.

“I’m fine now,” she assured him. “You can keep me in your sight as I get in and drive away.”

“I will.”

When he clasped her shoulder, she felt…fire. A rush of memories overwhelmed her. She would have backed away from them if she could have and from him. But his magnetic pull was too great to break.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, though she suspected he knew.

“We’re not strangers,” she murmured, knowing that definitely wasn’t the answer to his question.

“No, we’re not. And even if we wanted to be, that wouldn’t change what we were to each other.”

What were we? a little voice inside her head screamed. Yet, no matter what his answer was, it was too late. They were over. They’d been over for a long time.

“You look scared.” Vince’s hand moved from her shoulder and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do I still have the power to move you?”

Now she did force herself to back away from his touch…forced herself to remember the sadness, the grief and the loss. “It would be foolish of me to answer that question.”

Yet she knew by saying it, she already had.

Her keys in hand, she hurriedly pressed the remote and the car beeped at her. She opened the driver’s door, slipped inside and quickly shut it. She didn’t roll down her window. Maybe she was being a coward, but she didn’t want to hear anything else Vince might have to say. She certainly didn’t want him to touch her again because he did still move her and she couldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t accept that.

He stood there watching her as she backed up and drove faster than she should have out of the parking lot. She didn’t glance into her rearview mirror.

She wouldn’t look back again tonight. She absolutely wouldn’t.

Chapter Three

A warning voice inside Tessa’s head whispered, You could have called Vince instead of showing up on the police department’s doorstep. She stood in front of the yellow stucco building, uncertain about being here. But she’d told Vince she’d recommend a physical therapist to him and that’s what she was going to do.

The Sagebrush police department’s heavy glass door led into a building that was old, almost as old as the town, with thick adobe walls and wide windowsills. The plank flooring was dull from years of foot traffic. The dispatcher sat at a scarred wood desk to the left. To the right, the receptionist, Ginny Ruja, busily tapped keyboard keys. The rest of the room was partitioned off by a wooden fence with a swinging gate at its center. There were three desks with computers, two of them occupied by officers in blue uniforms. Beyond the desk area, a hallway led to the left and the jail. To the right, Tessa glimpsed a closed door. It was probably Vince’s office.

Crossing to the receptionist’s desk, she smiled at Ginny, who brought her four-year-old son, Jeremy, to Tessa’s practice.

Ginny looked up from her keyboard, and when she saw Tessa, her face was puzzled. “Hello, Dr. McGuire. Is something wrong? I hope you didn’t have your purse stolen or anything like that.”

Since this was Tessa’s day off, she’d walked to the police station, merely slipping her keys into her jeans pocket. She’d intended to go for a brisk walk after she was finished here.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Even though Tessa knew Ginny, she felt awkward being here. The dispatcher and two officers were casting their gazes her way. “Is Vince Rossi in?” she asked.

Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise. “The chief? Yes, he is, but he asked me not to disturb him for an hour so he could finish some paperwork.” Ginny looked torn as to what she should do.

Tessa was disappointed, but she should have called before coming, anyway. She wasn’t going to barge in when she didn’t even belong here.

“I understand. I should have made an appointment.” She slipped a folded index card from her pocket. “I told V—Chief Rossi that I would find some information he wanted.” She held out the index card to Ginny. “If you would just give this to him—”

The receptionist made a sudden decision. “Hold on a minute. Let me buzz him.” Before Tessa could protest, Ginny pressed the button on the intercom. “Chief, I’m sorry to disturb you, but Dr. McGuire is here. She says she has information for you. Do you want me to just take it or should I send her in?”

There was a slight pause, then Vince said, “I’ll be right there.”

Ginny gave Tessa a quizzical look as if wondering why the chief of police would come out to see her.

Tessa folded the index card to give herself something to do. She heard the door to Vince’s office open and then there he was, striding toward her. He was wearing navy slacks and a white oxford shirt with a black bolo tie.

“This is a surprise. I thought after—” He stopped, realizing they had an interested audience.

“I have those names for you…physical therapists.”

Vince knew as well as she did that she could have called. Just seeing him caused her heart to gallop at breakneck speed.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you my office. You can tell me about the therapists.”

If she left now, quickly, there’d be questions about why she’d come and why she hadn’t accepted his invitation. But if she accepted his invitation, there would probably still be talk. Though her reason for being here could be pushed into the realm of a professional consultation. She was, after all, his son’s doctor.

She nodded to Vince and started toward the wooden gate. He reached it before she did and held it open for her. When she passed him, she was very close to him—close enough to smell the scent of his cologne, close enough to stir up too many memories. By the time she reached his office door, she felt hot all over and told herself to calm down, to act as if Vince were any other classmate who’d moved back to Sagebrush.

Right.

Vince’s office wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to hold an expansive metal desk with a computer station to his right, four tall file cabinets and a set of barrister bookshelves. The yellow stucco walls were bare but a casement window provided a view of the back of the property. A stack of file folders toppled sideways on Vince’s desk.

“I don’t want to interrupt your work,” she was quick to assure him. “I can see you’re busy.”

“I need a break.” He gestured to the coffeepot on top of the bookshelves. “Cup of coffee?” Then he snapped his fingers. “You drink tea now. Sorry, I don’t have any of that.”

“I’m fine.”

He looked over her, assessing everything from her striped tank top to her white jeans, then he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. She perched on the edge of the wooden captain’s chair, fingering the index card she was still holding. “I have the names of two therapists. Both are good. You might be able to get in to see one before the other.”

He came around the desk instead of sitting behind it, took the index card from her and sat on a corner.

At once Tessa realized he was much too close for comfort. Everything about Vince, from the jut of his jaw to his slim hips to his long legs reminded her of the times they’d spent together, riding, swimming, making love. She knew what was under his clothes and he knew what was under hers. Years had made his body harder and stronger. She could tell that by the way he moved, the way his muscles rippled. And her body? She was in shape, but she didn’t know what he’d think of her now. After all, at thirty-eight, he was experienced. How many women had he been with since he’d been with her?

“Tessa?”

He must have asked her a question. “Sorry, my mind was wandering. What did you ask?”

“Are you sure you don’t have a preference for which therapist is best?”

She shook her head. “Both treat babies.”

He studied her. “Where did your mind wander?”

Heat crept up her cheeks. “I have to make rounds at the hospital later today.”

“So you were thinking about a patient? Or were you thinking about us?”

She wasn’t going to go there. “I know you’re wondering why I came here today instead of calling. I guess…our time at the diner didn’t go very well. I don’t want to feel this awkwardness every time I see you. If we could just establish a friendly professional relationship—”

“Professional?” His eyebrows quirked up.

“Yes. I’m your son’s doctor.”

Vince’s stormy gray gaze said he wasn’t buying it. She could put whatever label she wanted to on their relationship, but it would always be deeper than whatever she described it as. That’s what history did. It wound ties around two people that couldn’t easily be severed.

Out of the blue he asked, “Are you seeing anyone now?”

She couldn’t help her defensive reply. “That’s really none of your business.”

“Maybe not, but I thought I’d ask anyway. Are you?”

Was there a reason he was asking? A reason that had to do with those silver sparks in his eyes? “No.”

“Then any awkwardness you’re feeling isn’t about that—about a boyfriend not liking the idea.”

“No, it’s not.”

“So that means the awkwardness between us has to do with everything that happened, what we said and what we didn’t say. We’ll never resolve that over a cup of coffee or tea.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t try to resolve it,” she admitted softly. “Maybe we should just realize we’re different people now and go from there.”

He leaned toward her. “Are we different people?”

Vince’s cologne, the shadow of his beard on his jaw, the way he listened—as if she were the only one in the world to listen to—almost urged her to lean toward him. But then she concentrated on his question and wondered if Vince was thinking about her father and his involvement in their breakup, his involvement in her life. “Yes, we’re different people. You’re a father now and I’m the doctor I always wanted to be.”

“Always?” he challenged.

For the span of her marriage, all she’d wanted to be was Vince’s wife and the mother of his children. She’d told him that when they’d married. She might still become a mother if she was lucky—if someone chose her profile at the adoption agency…if an unwed mother picked her to adopt her child. But she didn’t know what the possibility was of a woman choosing her over a married couple. There was no point going into her dream of adopting with Vince. It might never happen.

Studying his somber expression, knowing he was searching for answers as she had, she replied, “My dreams as a teenager had to change as an adult. Once I decided to become a doctor, that was my dream.”

The quiet in the office became uncomfortable until she asked the question gnawing at her. Turnabout was fair play. “Are you dating? I mean, were you serious about someone when you became Sean’s legal guardian?”

For a moment their gazes held but neither of them spoke. Then Vince answered her. “I wasn’t seriously dating.”

“I see.”

He pushed himself up from the desk, all casual easiness gone. “No, you don’t see, Tessa. I was a homicide detective—on call day, night and weekends. Unless I wanted to hook up with another detective who understood that—” He shook his head. “Most of those relationships don’t make it, either. So when I dated, I dated for fun, to forget my work and have a good time. That’s probably something you wouldn’t understand because you were never that kind of woman.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?”

He blew out a breath in frustration. “Neither. You wanted a home and family, or you wanted a career. But whatever you wanted, you weren’t the kind of woman who could have fun for a night and then forget about it.”

“You were that kind of man?”

“I turned into that kind of man. But now that I have Sean to think about and focus on I have to be a role model and I have to be there for him 24/7.”

She studied the set of his shoulders, the slide on his bolo tie in the shape of the state of Texas, which was a symbol of the professional responsibility he was shouldering. But the responsibility of fatherhood was even more daunting. “You seem to have accepted being a parent without much of a fight. Maybe it’s what you wanted all along.” Her heart hurt as she thought about the child they’d lost, a child Vince had been as excited about as she had been. She could see he was thinking about that little boy now.

“The past always surfaces, doesn’t it?” he asked in a low voice.

“It’s our common ground.”

“Whether we want it to be or not.” His gaze assessed her again from head to toe as if trying to figure out something. “Did you find the life you wanted?”

“I’m still working on it.”

His jaw became more set, but then he said, “Good luck with that.”

They were finished. They really were. There was too much hurt and resentment swirling under the surface.

What if they brought it all out into the open?

That might only make things worse.

Standing, putting a little distance between them, she motioned to the card on his desk. “I hope you like the therapists.” She wouldn’t see Vince again until after his consultation with Dr. Rafferty. If the specialist recommended surgery, then she wouldn’t see Vince until after that surgery was completed. At that point, he’d probably be thinking about leaving Sagebrush.

“Good luck with Sean, Vince.”

His expression was unreadable as he replied, “Thanks. I’ll walk you out.”

They obviously had nothing more to say. They obviously had too much to say and couldn’t say any of it.

After he opened his office door, she was careful as she passed him that their bodies didn’t touch. She was careful not to breathe in his cologne or glance back at him or remember. She pushed open the swinging wooden gate herself. He caught it and passed through after her.

At the glass door, she knew everyone in the room was watching them. She extended her hand irrationally, needing some kind of last contact.

He clasped it in both of his.

“See you around,” she murmured.

“See you around.” He released her hand.

As she left she felt as if she’d lost something precious she could never find again.

“One…two…three!” Vince chanted enthusiastically the following Monday as he raised Sean’s arm up and down. After three, Vince put his lips to the little boy’s tummy and blew a puff of air, making Sean giggle. Sean always giggled when Vince did that and Vince loved to hear it.

However, Sean stopped midgiggle and gave a little cough.

Vince studied his son then commented to Mrs. Zappa, who was folding laundry, “He’s sniffling. I noticed it this morning when I gave him his bottle.”

Mrs. Zappa was a short, robust woman, with rimless spectacles and gray salting her black hair. She was full of energy and seemed to love taking care of Sean.

Mrs. Zappa placed Sean’s little shirts in a chest drawer and crossed to the changing table where Vince stood taking his son through the routine of exercises for his arm.

She studied the baby. “He ate this morning.”

“Not as much as usual,” Vince reminded her.

“Does he have a fever?”

Vince picked up the ear thermometer he’d bought. “According to this he doesn’t, but maybe I’m using it wrong.”

Mrs. Zappa took it from him and crooned to Sean. “Let me try to take your temperature, too.” Afterward she scanned the readout. “Normal. But with a baby, that could change at any time. I’ll check it every hour or so. We’ll make it a game.”

Vince glanced at his watch. “I should get going.”

“Did you eat breakfast?”

A genuine homebody, Mrs. Zappa felt she had to mother him as well as Sean. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It had been a long time since anyone cared whether he ate well or slept…not since he’d been married to Tessa.

“I’ll grab something at the station.”

“Oh sure, some of those pastries from the Yellow Rose. Don’t you realize they’re clogging your arteries?”

“I could just have black coffee,” he joked.

Rolling her eyes, Mrs. Zappa picked up Sean, bouncing him in the air. The baby chortled and drew up his legs.

“Let me tell you something, Mr. Rossi.”

He’d asked her to call him Vince, but she wouldn’t.

“You might have lived your life just for yourself for a long time, but now you have the future to think about. You have to stay healthy for this little boy. He’s going to need you around for many, many years to come. So in addition to working out with those weights in your bedroom, you need to eat right and take care of yourself.”

She must have seen the weights when she cleaned and swept his room. “I hear there’s a runners’ path around the lake,” he said. “I’d like to include that in my schedule a few times a week, but it might mean you’d have to stay another hour or so. How do you feel about that?”

“More money in my piggy bank for that cruise I want to take.” She grinned at him and took Sean over to his crib, laid him down and started the wind-up mobile toy above him. The tiny animal figures moved around the circle in time with the music.

“I’m going to make chili for tonight. How hot do you like it?” she asked with a grin.

“Hot.”

She shook her head. “Pretty soon I’ll have all your tastes figured out.”

Crossing to Sean’s crib, Vince adjusted one of the figures on the mobile that had become tangled with another. When he gazed down at Sean, he held out his finger for his son to grasp. Sean grabbed it with his good hand and Vince hoped beyond hope that Dr. Rafferty could give back to the baby the use of his right arm.

Mrs. Zappa gazed at him across the crib. “You know what you need, don’t you?”

He wiggled his finger back and forth with Sean holding on to it. “What? More cookware?” Mrs. Zappa had been dismayed when she’d arrived that he’d only bought a saucepan and a frying pan.

“Not cookware. You need a wife.”

That brought Vince’s gaze to hers. “I don’t need a wife. I have you,” he joked.

“Be serious, Mr. Rossi. I see you worry every time you look at that little boy. A wife would help cut that worry in half. A wife would help lighten the troubles and double the joys.”

Before he thought better of it, he responded, “I tried that once and it didn’t work out.”

If that wasn’t an understatement, he didn’t know what was. He was sure Tessa still blamed him for everything that had happened, including her hysterectomy. He deserved the blame, the guilt and the regrets.

“I’m not husband material, Mrs. Zappa.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because my marriage failed. Because I never had a role model.”

“You didn’t have a dad?”

“I had a dad who drank.”

“I see,” she said slowly. “That doesn’t mean you can’t learn. If you want something bad enough, you do what you have to do. You learn what you have to learn.”