Nine-Month Protector
Julie Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Taz.

I’ve dedicated books to my writers’ group before, but I

especially want to thank Sue Baumann, who took over

as president from me in 2006, and has been a wonderful,

inspirational leader for our group. She’s a woman with

heart, talent and a clever sense of humor. I appreciate

your leadership, support and friendship, and, of course—

the wet noodles and candy corn pumpkins. Thanks.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One

July

Sarah Cartwright ran into the posh gold-and-porcelain appointments of Teddy Wolfe’s bathroom and puked.

She knelt in front of the commode, clutching her stomach and grinding her knuckles against her mouth until the worst of the humiliation had passed.

What an idiot. What an idiot!

“Sarah?” The millionaire owner of the Riverboat Casino rapped on the door. “Will you be all right?”

Only if the tile floor opened up and swallowed her whole.

Her mouth opened to form words, but she couldn’t speak. What was there to say after what she’d just learned? After what she’d just done? Was there anything she could say that could make this whole evening go away?

She could hear Teddy outside the door, getting dressed. Fine leather creaked—a belt? His Italian oxfords? The holster and Beretta she’d seen lying on his desk?

She’d known he wasn’t the average sort of sweet and dependable guy she usually dated. That air of danger about him, that unpredictability, had been what had made him seem so exciting in the first place. She should have known she was out of her league. Out of her depth. Out of her mind when she’d started trading phone calls and had accepted this date with him.

“Well,” he continued in that suave British accent that she’d foolishly fallen for. “Take as long as you need. Make use of any of the facilities in my suite. Order room service from the restaurant or a bottle of champagne from the bar. But you’ll have to enjoy the bubbly by yourself. I have some business to attend to. My people will take care of you.”

She heard the whisper of silk sliding against silk outside the door as he continued to dress. Or maybe that was the smooth sound of careless, heartless—meaningless—seduction that she’d succumbed to like the naive, wide-eyed homebody she was. Her stomach churned again and she leaned forward.

After growing up the daughter of Austin Cartwright, she’d always fancied herself so smart about the world. But how could she not have seen this coming? Had she really felt so lonesome? So bored with her life? So left behind in the relationship world, after marrying off friend after friend—and even her own mother—that she’d refused to see the obvious?

She couldn’t call it rape. She’d been a willing participant. It had been fun and daring, and she’d had no desire to say no.

She’d been exactly the exciting new woman she wanted to be. It was the adventurous relationship she’d wanted to have.

But she hadn’t known. If only she had known.

“Sarah?” Teddy sounded impatient now, irritated with her silence. His evening hadn’t turned out the way he’d planned, either. He probably expected her to thank him.

“I’m fine,” she squeaked out on a whisper. She cleared her throat and reached for one of the crystal glasses on the counter. She pulled herself to her feet, filled the glass with cold water and took a swallow before repeating in a louder, stronger voice. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie, but it didn’t matter. That was all Teddy wanted to hear. Teddy with the smooth line and smoother kisses. Teddy with the money. Teddy with the gun. Teddy with the awful, awful words.

“You can tell your father we’re square.”

“What?” Not exactly the romantic pillow talk she’d expected after their first time together. Sarah pushed herself up on her elbows and pulled the straps of her sundress back onto her shoulders while Teddy disposed of their protection, stood and zipped his pants.

“I’ll consider his debt paid in full. For now. Until the next time he loses more than he can afford to.”

Whatever sense of adventure had driven her to risk her heart so quickly faded in a haze of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The two-hundred-and-sixty grand Austin owes me. Owed me. There’s no need to worry about your father now. I’ll make sure nothing happens to him.” Teddy was speaking so matter-of-factly, like they’d just conducted a business transaction instead of an impulsive makeout session on the leather couch in his private suite above the casino. He picked up his shirt and leaned over to kissher. “That was just what I needed. Thank you for the lovely evening.”

Oh, no. No.

“Was my father in danger?” What had Austin gotten himself into this time? Her stomach twisted into knots. “And I…? This was just…?”

Sarah couldn’t even bring herself to say the horrible thing she’d just done. Her own father had put a price on her head.

She grabbed her shoes and her purse and dashed into the bathroom, locking the door, locking out the nightmarish mistake she’d just made.

“Yes, well, it’s been fun, hasn’t it?” Teddy was moving outside the door, ready to leave. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

Sarah gripped the edge of the sink. I don’t think so. Never.

Teddy’s voice grew louder as he leaned against the bathroom door. “Austin raised a gem in spite of himself. Good night.”

After the outside door to the suite closed, Sarah splashed some of the cold water on her face and neck. She stared at her reflection in the light-studded mirror. She didn’t look any different—straight blond hair, slightly askew around her face. Big green eyes framed by the tiny lines of worry she’d earned in her twenty-seven years. She was as frustratingly petite and tomboy-ishly slim as she’d always been.

But there was something different about her. Something hollow in her expression. A weariness of the world that came from a lesson learned too late.

“I need to get out of here.”

Before something so useless as tears could take hold, Sarah scrubbed her face clean, zipped up the back of her dress and fastened her strappy sandals around her ankles. She fished her keys from her purse, put her ear to the door to make sure she was alone and pushed it open.

“Go home,” she advised herself. “Go home, regroup, pretend this never happened. No, call Dad and tell him he and I are done.” She crossed the Persian rug with a more purposeful stride. “There’s not a damn thing he can say to make this one right.”

Austin Cartwright was a sick man. His gambling addiction had cost the family plenty over the years. College funds, the dissolution of her parents’ marriage, a deep rift between father and brother. Trust.

Still she’d persevered. Austin Cartwright was her daddy. The man who’d carried her on his shoulders as a little girl. The man who’d taught her how to fish, how to hammer a nail, how to keep a box score at a baseball game. He’d taught her how to have fun. Sarah remembered having fun when she was little. She’d had fun without second-guessing the motive behind an activity, without doubting the sincerity behind the companionship.

Long after her mother had left Austin to protect her son and daughter from his illness and the resulting moods and dangers, long after she’d learned that gambling was an addiction—not unlike drug or alcohol abuse—and that it diminished her father’s reliability and tainted his love, she’d tried to help him. Sarah had tried to keep him in Gamblers Anonymous, tried to steer him away from the casino he’d practically rebuilt with his own hands. She’d tried to be patient, tried to listen, tried to be tough with her affection. She’d continued to be there for a man who was difficult to love.

But this was too much.

This was the ultimate betrayal.

This one she couldn’t forgive.

And she’d been too blinded by her need to crash out and take a break from the heavy responsibilities of her devotion to even see it coming.

Her father had sold her to repay a gambling debt.

Sarah Cartwright knew exactly what she was worth to her father now. Two-hundred-and-sixty-thousand dollars and a clean slate to start betting the odds all over again.

“Yeah, Dad, we’re done. I can’t forgive you this—”

She jumped as someone pounded on the outside door. “Teddy? Teddy!”

The woman’s shrill voice stopped Sarah in her tracks. Damn. Her escape was cut off. No way could she handle a confrontation right now. No way did she even want to be seen anywhere near Teddy’s suite.

“I know you have another woman in there. It’s that slut…”

But Sarah was already running in the opposite direction. A suite of rooms had to have another exit, didn’t it? A back door? A service elevator? A dumbwaiter? Hell, she’d open a window and dive into the Missouri River at the base of the floating casino if that were the only way to get out of this humiliating predicament without being seen.

Sarah opened a door with shuttered panels. Walk-in closet. She closed it and moved on. She found a connecting door with a dead bolt and turned the lock. A matching door greeted her on the other side. The angry, unhappy woman’s voice faded into a terse, hushed conversation with someone else outside in the hall. Sarah didn’t try to make out any words or identify the speakers; she was focused on her escape.

Once the second bolt slid aside, she pushed open the door and discovered a second suite, mirroring the office and living quarters of Teddy’s rooms. There was a second bathroom, a second closet, a second office. That meant there’d be a matching exit. Sarah ran to it.

“Don’t throw yourself at him.” A man’s voice, deeper than Teddy’s but tinged with the same articulate accent, spoke in soothing tones outside the door. “There’s a difference between passion and possession.”

Damn! How crowded could this supposedly private wing be at three in the morning?

Sarah backpedaled, looking for another option. Any option.

The man was talking to a woman out in the hall. The same woman who had shouted at the other door. Her anger spent, the woman sniffed back tears. “But I love him. You know, the money doesn’t really matter. I just want him…I want us to be a family.”

“Don’t make it so easy for him to have you. Teddy likes the thrill of the chase.”

A key scraped inside the door lock. Sarah froze. They were coming inside!

Run.

Where?

Sarah’s heart hammered in her chest. She swept her gaze back and forth. Sofa. Door. Desk. Toilet. Her feet itched to go one direction but her brain argued another route would be safer.z

Think.

“But Mr. McDonough,” the woman pleaded, apparently stopping the man’s hand on the doorknob. “I told him the truth. He said he loved me. But tonight I saw him with…”

Step by silent step, Sarah retreated. She did not want to be caught here. Did not want to have to explain to anyone why she was in Teddy’s suite. Being an invited guest sounded like a lousy excuse right about now. And being the bartered payoff for her father’s debt…? Could these people take one look at her and guess how she’d been duped? Would they laugh at her? Spread rumors? Blame her? How could she possibly defend herself? The woman outside was talking about love. And she’d…She’d…

The lock snapped open. Oh, hell. Sarah swung open the closet door and ducked inside. She closed the door behind her and hunkered down behind a row of tobacco-scented suits, clinging to the back wall of the closet, merging with the shadows, holding her breath in the darkness as the outside door opened and the couple came into the suite.

Their voices became clear, their actions easier to judge by the sounds they made. The woman was clearly upset. The man handed her a tissue or handkerchief and offered to pour her a drink. The woman sat on the leather couch. “Just water, thanks.”

The man crossed to the connecting doors between the suites and paused, as though wondering why they’d been left open. Sarah heard a click and a grate as he closed and locked the connecting doors. Her stomach tumbled. She curled her arms around her bent knees and forced herself to breathe evenly, silently, through her open mouth. She was trapped.

“There.” The man crossed back into the room. “I told you Teddy was gone. There’s no other woman here for you to fret about.”

Sarah’s cheeks heated with embarrassment, then grew cold as she listened to more of the sad repercussions of her uncharacteristically impulsive actions.

“I’m not making this up, you know,” the woman went on. “I really am pregnant.”

The sofa creaked again. He was sitting beside her. Comforting her? “So you’re carrying the heir to the Wolfe International fortune?”

“I don’t think of it like that. To me, it’s just Teddy’s baby.”

Teddy had fathered a baby? And he’d put the moves on Sarah? “That was just what I needed.”

Creep. Bastard. Sarah seethed in silence.

“Dawn, you understand that Teddy’s father is very traditional in a number of ways, despite his innovative business ideas. Family means as much to him as his reputation does. He’d expect Teddy to marry you. He’d want you and Teddy to move back to London.”

“But that’s what I want.” The woman named Dawn sniffed, sounding hopeful. “I mean, I could live in London or anywhere he wants. I know he doesn’t want to be tied down, and he has so many responsibilities here at the casino—”

“The casino can run just fine without him. Better, in fact.”

“Better? What do you mean?”

Mr. McDonough of the deep accent and solicitous voice scoffed. It was a derisive sound, full of contempt. But was it meant for Dawn? Or for Teddy? “Fathering a grandchild for Mr. Wolfe would be the one thing Teddy could do to get back in his father’s good graces.”

Dawn sniffed. “What are you talking about?”

“Here. Rest your head. Go on, lie down.” The man named McDonough soothed away the concerns his hushed aside had brought on. “I’ll have a talk with Teddy. He’s thirty years old. He needs to grow up one day. I’m sure he has feelings for you.” He was consoling her, holding her perhaps, tucking her in to sleep off her distress. If only Teddy had such a heart. If only her father could remember what real caring meant. “I’ll take care of everything,” he promised. “You just leave it all up to me.”

The sofa creaked.

“What are you doing? What is—?”

Thwap. Thwap.

Sarah lurched inside her sandals. She pressed her hand tightly over her mouth to keep from crying out.

She knew that sound.

Gunshots. Muffled by a suppressor, but no less distinct.

Her mother was a cop. Commissioner of KCPD.

Her brother was a cop. Used to be, at any rate.

Her brother’s best friend and half the people she knew were cops. She’d been around guns all her adult life.

Someone had been shot.

It was way too quiet in the other room. The crying had stopped.

Sarah’s pulse throbbed in her ears, making it difficult to hear the words from the other room as the weight shifted on the sofa. “You were a damned inconvenience, Dawn. But I think now you’ll serve my purpose very well.”

When Sarah heard footsteps tapping over the tile floor in the bathroom—a whole half a room away—she scrambled across the closet and knelt on her hands and knees, peering through the slats at the door.

Oh, God. Oh, my God.

Dawn, a pretty woman she’d seen working in the casino on previous visits, lay across the couch, her head nestled against a pillow, her arm dangling to the floor. The long, blond hair at her temple was matting with sticky crimson.

The man she’d sought comfort from—Mr. McDonough—strode back into the room. Sarah flinched, instinctively backing away from the threat carrying a gun in his hand. But still she watched.

He was older than Teddy, though not yet her father’s age. McDonough was well dressed, well groomed with super-short hair and dark, nearly black eyes she would never forget.

Those cold eyes showed no emotion whatsoever as he unscrewed the suppressor from his gun, holstered the weapon and knelt beside Dawn’s body—and the infant inside her who would now die as well. “There will be no grandchild, dear. Teddy’s been a disappointment to his father for a long time. I can’t have you changing that.”

He wrapped a towel around Dawn’s head and the pillow. Then he pulled out a roll of kitchen plastic from the wet bar and wrapped it around her body from head to toe, lifting and dropping the dead woman as though she were a rag doll instead of someone’s daughter or lover or sister—or mother.

Sarah wanted to curl up into a ball. She wanted to curse his cruelty. She wanted to cry out.

But all she could do was hold herself perfectly still, down on her hands and knees, setting aside the humiliation of her evening and swallowing her shock and horror. She silently watched McDonough wrap the plastic mummy of Dawn’s body in one of the rugs. He called maintenance for a cart and rolled her out the door like so much trash.

Nearly an hour passed before Sarah could move again. Her fingers were numb from their tight grip in the carpeting; her skin was ice-cold. She finally breathed her first decent breath and crawled out of the closet.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Hide? Find Teddy? Warn him of McDonough’s treachery? Ask about Dawn? Run for her life before McDonough came back and discovered her here?

She’d been hoping she could just walk away from the nightmarish mistake of her night with Teddy Wolfe. Bury her head in the sand and nurse her ego alone in the privacy of her apartment for a few days.

But all that had changed.

Sarah Cartwright might have trained to be a fourth-grade teacher instead of a woman of adventure, but the blood of law enforcement—of justice and honor and doing the right thing even when it was tough—ran in her veins.

Wanting to put some distance between her and McDonough, she hurried across the casino’s deserted parking lot, praying the dark of night would cover her escape. She climbed into her car and locked herself inside. Glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure no one was following her, she pulled onto the street heading toward home. Then, she finally picked up her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

She knew the drill, knew what she had to do.

“Kansas City 9-1-1 Emergency Assistance Center. How may I direct your call?”

Sarah swallowed hard. “I need to report a murder.”

“I JUST NEED YOU TO CHECK on her for me, okay? I know you didn’t sign on for babysitting duty, but it’d be a load off my mind.”

Detective Cooper Bellamy listened to his partner’s request, already pulling a clean T-shirt from his drawer and tucking it into the jeans he’d donned as soon as his phone had rung in the middle of the night. Though he’d be dressed and on the job before this conversation was done, he had to put up some kind of argument when Seth Cartwright had called to tell him he was worried about his twin sister’s safety.

“I’m sure it’s in the fine print somewhere, buddy.” He could almost hear the hitch in Seth’s Dragnet-serious voice as Coop harassed him into a relieved harumph. “I provide intel. Report to the chief. Save your ass. Babysit your sister. I do it all.”

“You’re a god among men, Coop.” Seth could dish it out as well as he could take it.

“I keep tellin’ you that.”

Coop told a lot of jokes. Laughter had always been his antidote for dealing with the crap that life threw at a man. If he didn’t admit to the pain, then he didn’t have to feel it. If no one saw him hurting, then they’d trust that he was strong. They’d find strength in his confidence. Believe in his abilities. He never wanted to look into a loved-one’s eyes and see that worry, that fear—that lack of faith in him again.

He’d never have to look into his partner’s eyes and see any doubt that he’d come through for him.

Coop slipped his holster straps over his shoulders and unlocked the Glock from his bedside table. Trust was everything between cops. Especially when one was working a dangerous undercover assignment, and he was the man assigned to ghost him. Coop was the detective whose job it was to take care of everything else—including checking on wayward family members—so that the inside man didn’t have to risk blowing his cover and could concentrate on getting the evidence and staying alive.

Cooper and Seth had been recruited from the Fourth Precinct to serve on a special vice squad task force. On this assignment, Seth had infiltrated Wolfe International—the corporate front for a mob family putting down roots in Kansas City. Seth had the trust of the Wolfe family in his back pocket.

And Coop had Seth’s.

But if Seth had any inkling that Coop’s teasing flirtations with his pretty, petite sister had a ring of real longing in them, then—partner or not—Coop would be the last person Seth would call on to help.

An appreciative wolf whistle at seeing Sarah Cartwright in a dress for the first time had been enough for Seth to jump his case.

“If you weren’t my partner, my best friend…If my life wasn’t still in your hands for the next few days, I’d lay you flat out.”

Coop raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just being an observant detective. So what if your twin sister puts on a little lipstick? I still think of her as the left-fielder who ran down that final out in our co-ed softball game against the fire department last summer. Hitting on your sister is a no-no. I get that.”

“That’s nonnegotiable, Coop.”

“Understood.”

Sure. Yeah. His brain understood. He understood even better than Seth himself that he wasn’t the man for Sarah. Not in his wildest dreams could he make something work with a sweet, wholesome girl like her. Not for long. She’d want kids, roots, picket fences…He couldn’t give her that. She deserved a better man. A whole man.

But sometimes the eye…the hormones…other things deep inside him…didn’t always follow the logic.

So he could look. Maybe he could even lust a little. But he couldn’t do anything about it. And he damn straight couldn’t tell his partner what a hottie his sister was.

He had to be her big brother, too.

Coop checked his clip, holstered his gun and hooked his badge over his belt before heading to the front door. On the way out, he picked up his blue KCPD ball cap and pulled it on over his clean-shaven head. “Is she at home?”

“That’s the million-dollar question. I can’t find her. She’s turned off her cell, and all I get at her apartment is the damn answering machine.”

“Sarah’s a big girl, Seth,” Coop tried to reason, climbing into his truck. He started the engine, not particularly thrilled by one obvious possibility. “Maybe she’s on a date.”

“At three in the morning?”

Um, earth to Seth. Big green eyes? Gorgeous smile? Just because Sarah was pint-sized and favored running shoes over stiletto heels didn’t mean any man worth his salt wouldn’t notice her. “You’ve never stayed up late when you were out with a woman you liked?”

“This isn’t about me. You know Sarah and I are cut from different cloth. I’m the evil twin. She’s the reliable one. She doesn’t do wild and crazy and stay out all night.”

Coop shook his head at the self-deprecating comment. He didn’t know whether to remind Seth that he had proven himself one of the good guys time and again, or explain that reliable didn’t necessarily mean stick-in-the-mud. If Sarah wanted to go out and party all night, she had the right. She was on summer vacation, after all. It wasn’t as though she had to get up and teach in the morning.

Instead of arguing either point, Coop turned on the AC and adjusted the truck cab’s interior to combat the muggy summer night outside. His job was to take care of Seth’s needs outside of his assignment, not beat some sense into his stubborn head. It was time he went to work. “Has Sarah been seeing anyone? Can you give me the names of some friends I can call?”

“You know I haven’t been able to keep in touch with her like I should. Hell, I don’t even know if Mom and Eli are back from their honeymoon yet.” He could hear Seth’s frustration. “Mom” was KCPD Commissioner Shauna Cartwright-Masterson, and Eli Masterson was her new husband—an investigator with the D.A.’s office. “All I know is I’ve seen Sarah at the casino on and off the past couple of weeks. Now tonight, I can’t find her. I can’t find my dad, either. But I figure whatever trouble he’s gotten into, he deserves it.”

Growing up in the Cartwright household couldn’t have been easy with an absent father whose gambling addiction seemed to cause trouble whenever he did try to be a part of his family’s lives. Coop knew all about stepping in to fill a father’s place. He’d lost his own dad, a Marine Corps captain, during the first Gulf War, and had helped his mom raise his three younger siblings. Though Austin Cartwright was still alive and kicking, Seth had assumed a similar role. He might be only twelve minutes older than his sister, but Seth took his big-brother role very seriously.

But if Seth was 27, then so was Sarah. One of these days, he was going to have to accept that. “Like I said, she’s a big girl.”

“I just need to know she’s all right,” Seth insisted. He recited the address, and Coop jotted down the directions. “Just check on her for me, okay? Everything’s about to blow here. It’s too dangerous. And if Wolfe finds out I’m still workin’ for KCPD…”

He didn’t have to finish how deadly those repercussions could be to anyone Seth cared about.

Coop backed into the street and headed across town toward Sarah’s apartment, feeling an increased sense of urgency. “Talk to me, buddy. Tell me exactly what the situation is.”

Seth gave Cooper a concise rundown of the night’s events at the Riverboat Casino—the suspected front for Wolfe International’s money-laundering activities. There’d been a big poker tournament there that night, and Seth believed he had proof of how Teddy Wolfe was filtering drug money through the tournament records and payouts. More than that, a Wolfe enforcer that they knew was good for at least one murder had attacked two women—one of them a leggy reporter named Rebecca Page. She was running some kind of investigation on her own, and she had Seth’s focus and libido all twisted up into knots. Coop suspected his partner’s feelings for the reporter ran a lot deeper than even Seth would admit.

And somehow, while Seth was focused on protecting Rebecca and making his case against the Wolfes, Sarah Cartwright had wandered into the mess. She’d been paying several visits to the casino over the past couple of weeks. Seth had monitored her comings and goings as best he could without drawing attention to the personal connection between them. But tonight, with evidence falling into place, a killer to subdue and a crime scene to secure, Seth had lost track of his sister.

“It could be nothing,” Seth continued. “But I don’t want to take any chances. I have to get to the hospital.”

“You hurt?”

“Nah.”

“Rebecca?”

“Not as badly as the other woman. But I want to make sure Bec has a doctor look at her injuries. You should have seen her, Coop. You should have heard her telling him where to stick it. Remind me never to pick a fight with her.” There was an uncharacteristic catch in his voice. It was part admiration, part fear. “I just need to know she’s okay.”

As much as he needed to know his sister was okay, too.

“Go.” Coop wasn’t about to fail him now. “You take care of Rebecca. I’ll track down Sarah for you.”

“Keep her safe.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” Coop promised.

He hung up and merged into the light traffic on I-70 that would take him into the heart of downtown Kansas City, just a few blocks south of Sarah’s restored loft in the City Market district. It was the most sensible place to start. If he discovered anything more sinister than Sarah’s phone being left off the hook so she could get a good night’s sleep, then he’d be at the starting point to retrace her steps for the night.

Cooper Bellamy’s job was to ghost his partner. If that backup meant standing in as big brother while Seth dealt with trouble at the casino, then so be it.

He made it to Sarah’s neighborhood in twenty minutes. It took him another five to locate the converted warehouse and connected parking garage Seth had described. Coop circled the garage until he found her car, then pulled up beside it and got out. He laid a hand on the hood of her sporty Ford Focus. Still warm. So the prodigal sister had been out on the town until the wee hours of the morning.

“Good for you, kid.” She deserved to have a little fun without reporting every move to Seth. Chances were she’d gone straight to bed, and checking on her now would only wake her. Still, a promise was a promise. For Seth’s peace of mind—and, therefore, his own—Coop needed to see Sarah Cartwright with his own eyes so he could report that she was okay. He crossed through the glassed-in walkway over the street to the former warehouse-turned-apartment building.

The lobby here on the second floor was just as empty and quiet as the closed architectural firm on the first floor below him. Bypassing the noise of the 1930s-era elevator, Coop hit the stairs and climbed the two flights to Sarah’s floor.

By the time he reached the tomblike silence of the fourth floor, Coop felt the first measure of suspicion. Why was it so quiet in Sarah’s building? There were plenty of vehicles in the parking garage to account for several of the apartments in this block. Shouldn’t he at least hear boards settling? A loud snore from a neighbor? Water running through the pipes or central air kicking on and off? Or was the top floor so well-insulated—so isolated—that sound didn’t carry up here?

Coop scraped his palm over the late-night stubble shading his jaw. What was a single woman doing, living alone in this big empty place where there were no neighbors to run to for help, no one to hear her in the middle of a night like this, even if she screamed?

Hurrying his pace, Coop quickly reached the single, sliding steel door marked “400.” He raised his fist and knocked. “Sarah?” He pushed the buzzer, then knocked a little harder, hating how his random observations about the building had spooked him into this wary state. Why the hell wasn’t she answering the door? Maybe Seth had been right to be concerned. Despite the apartment’s fortresslike design, he wouldn’t want one of his own sisters to be so cut off from the rest of the world. He pounded. “Sarah!”

The door slid open beneath his fist.

“Coop? What are you doing here?”

Dropping his hand to his side, he swept his gaze over all five feet and not much more of Sarah Cartwright.

Ah, hell. The summery scents of peaches and mango drifted up to his nose, igniting a decidedly nonbrotherly awareness of the woman standing in the doorway. She wore a modest pair of pajamas, with one of those strappy knit tops, and plaid pants that were rolled up at the ankle.

But it was the damp spots clinging to the tops of her small breasts and the flat of her stomach that made the whole package so unexpectedly sexy. She’d come straight from the shower, looking fresh-scrubbed and fragile and utterly feminine—from the damp, darkened strands of her towel-dried hair to the pink painted nails on her tiny bare feet.

For a couple of heartbeats, Cooper forgot why he was standing at this door in the shadows before dawn. It was always like this for him, and it always took him a second to come up with the right teasing line to remind him that this was his partner’s sister he was lusting after.

“Coop?” Sarah brushed past him, looking up and down the empty hallway before tilting those pretty green eyes all the way up to his following gaze. “I thought they’d send a uniformed officer.”

That’s when the frown between the eyes registered, along with the antsy way she rubbed her palms and tapped her fingers together.

Coop’s smile flatlined. “Why do you need a uniformed officer?” That same wariness that had itched beneath the surface of his skin on the way up returned in full force. He wrapped one big hand around both of hers, stilling her twisting fingers. “Sarah?”

She startled with a gasp, as if his touch had interrupted some deep thought process. But instead of pulling away, she turned her hands inside his grasp and held on. “I’m glad you’re here. I could use a friendly face right about now.”

Damn. Despite the warmth of a shower, her skin was generating nothing but chill.

“C’mon.” With a gentle tug, he pulled her back into the apartment, slid the heavy door shut and locked it behind him. He nudged her toward the center of the open living space, then quickly moved past her to check the windows for signs of trouble. Maybe there’d been a break-in. But every window was solid, locked tight. The bedroom area, untouched. The kitchen area was equally clean. The bathroom was a mess of dirty clothes and damp towels, as though she’d stripped and showered and changed more than once.

Ah, hell. A very bad feeling throbbed in the tight clench of his jaw. His nostrils flared as he forced himself to breathe deeply, to check his emotions and silence the bombardment of questions that begged to be asked.

He turned back to Sarah, looking small and vulnerable where she stood in the middle of the room. She stared at a spot on the wooden floor, hugging herself, shivering.

“Sarah?” Coop slowly approached her, demanding that those big green eyes meet his. “Why do you need a cop?”

She didn’t disappoint. Smoothing a damp strand of hair off her face, she lifted her gaze. “To answer my 9-1-1 call.”

“All right. Back up and start this conversation from the beginning.” Any pretense of standing in as big brother vanished with the tears that glistened in the fringe of her lashes. Something had happened. Something very bad. The wary detective in him was already on guard, already alert. But the man in him needed to touch her, needed to make whatever had gone wrong right. He reached out to brush aside the stubborn lock of hair that still stuck to her cheek. “What 9-1-1 call?”

“I…” The instant his finger touched her, a huge sigh rattled through her from tip to toe. Instead of talking, she turned and walked into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hold me.”

She aligned herself against him, cheek to chest, breast to stomach, thigh to thigh.

A burst of heat radiated through him in every place they touched. Something tight and controlled inside him began to melt.

Coop hesitated a moment before giving in to the heat and the need and winding his arms tightly around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head and wrapped his body around her, surrounding her in his strength and warmth. Seth was gonna kill him for this. But Sarah snuggled closer, and he couldn’t push her away. He heard the sniffles, felt the clutch of her fingers at the back of his waist. Moments later, the warmth of her tears dampened the front of his T-shirt and singed his skin. He was gonna kill someone if this innocent woman had been hurt. “Sarah, you never answered—”

“Just hold me.” Her lips moved against his sensitized skin, and his body leaped with the need to respond in some elemental way.

He rubbed circles up and down her spine, pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and rested his nose in the fragrant silk of her freshly washed hair.

“I’ve gotcha.”

The cop in him would have to wait.

Chapter Two

Three months later

“What do you mean, we’ve got nothing on Theodore Wolfe? I thought Wolfe International was history.” Seth Cartwright’s question fueled an outburst of debates around the KCPD headquarters briefing room.

“Their money-laundering setup here in K.C., yes. And we’ve put a serious dent in their drug profits by shutting down their Kansas City base. But we’ve still got some loose ends to tie up,” replied Captain John Kincaid in his typically cool, calm and collected tone. The grumbles subsided. He gripped the desktop podium and leaned forward to make sure every detective and uniformed officer in the room understood how serious he was. “Understand this. I intend to nail the big boss and give KCPD the credit for his arrest before they kick me upstairs to the deputy commissioner’s office.”

Leaning back in his chair at the front table, Cooper Bellamy crossed his long legs at the ankle and sipped his coffee as another round of should-haves and what-ifs and let’s-do-its ensued. His own partner, Seth, turned to the long table behind them and questioned Kincaid’s second-eldest son, Sawyer, another young detective, to see if he had any insight into his father’s plans for the case.

Coop seemed to take it all in with half an ear. His disinterest was deceptive, though. He was as frustrated as his partner to hear how progress had stalled on their investigation into Wolfe International’s illegal activities.

Captain Kincaid, the man who’d recruited Coop and Seth from the Fourth precinct to work on his organized-crime task force, raised his hands and quieted the room with little more than a stern fatherly look. Coop sat up straight, remembering that same look from his own father. A gung-ho Marine until the day his job took his life, Clint Bellamy had high expectations from all five of his children, especially his oldest son, Coop. And though he’d managed to inject plenty of laughter into their lives when he’d been home, Clint’s rules for living had been drilled in hard and often.

Respect for authority went without saying. And Captain Kincaid had earned it.

Being there for the team—whether that meant backing up his partner or taking care of his mother and younger brothers and sisters—was another tenet in the Bellamy code.

But the rule that had him sitting up and waiting for the captain to explain their next plan of action was that no matter what it required of a man, failure on a mission was not an option.

Coop thumped his partner’s shoulder, urging him to ease up on the second-guessing. “Let’s hear what the big dog has to say.”

The room quieted, and the captain recapped the task force’s accomplishments and remaining goals.

Theodore Wolfe’s son, Teddy, Jr., had been killed in a shootout with Seth when Teddy had tried to murder the woman who had since become Seth’s fiancée. Although one of Teddy’s partners appeared to be a legitimate K.C. businessman, their casino had been temporarily closed until the Treasury Department could straighten out the books. And Teddy’s right-hand man and Wolfe International enforcer, Shaw McDonough—the man Sarah Cartwright had identified as a cold-blooded killer—had gone AWOL.

McDonough had skipped the country. His plane ticket out of KCI said Bermuda, but authorities had had no luck tracking him down there. They couldn’t even confirm that he’d actually gotten off the plane. The bastard could be anywhere on the planet. Spending his money in the Caribbean. Living under an assumed name back in London, still doing his boss’s dirty work. Murdering someone else if the price was right.

Coop set down his coffee as the taste went bitter. That fateful night when Sarah had witnessed the murder of Teddy’s mistress had changed his life, too. And not for the better. He’d screwed up when he’d gone to check on her. He hadn’t been thinking with his brain. He’d misread signals and moved way too fast. At the very least, his timing had sucked. He’d risked his heart and gotten it thrown back in his face for his troubles—and jeopardized his friendship with Seth should the whole truth of those twenty-four hours together with Sarah ever come out.

“So what are we supposed to do, Captain? Sit back on our heels and let Wolfe International peddle its influence somewhere else?” Seth’s question was a welcome interruption to Coop’s self-damning thoughts.

His gaze strayed to the photograph posted on the screen at the front of the room. Theodore Wolfe, Sr. Black hair, silver temples. He could have been a member of Parliament with that high-class suit and demeanor. But there was a much darker side to the multimillionaire mob boss who ruled a gambling empire that touched four continents.

Wolfe was controller of everything he touched. Rich as Midas and as feared as Hades himself. Not a nice guy.

KCPD may have put a stop to his son’s criminal career, but Daddy and his number-one henchman remained untouched.

“No, Cartwright.” There was no doubt that the captain had command of the room. “I intend to nail Wolfe on our turf. We’ve got unfinished business with him here. He’s responsible for ordering the death of crime reporter Reuben Page—” the father of Seth’s fiancée, Rebecca “—and Danielle Ballard, the intern who was feeding Page information on the bribes Wolfe offered key economic development and zoning committee members.”

“So that disk Rebecca and I found at the Riverboat casino proves Wolfe’s influence?” Seth asked.

Captain Kincaid nodded. “Absolutely. Plus, Mac Taylor from the forensic lab says he’s got a clean bullet from Dawn Kingsley’s body that matches the one he took from Reuben Page three years earlier. If we can get him McDonough’s gun, we can link him to both murders and send McDonough to death row.”

Along with Sarah’s eyewitness testimony.

“Captain?” Coop had to pipe up with a smart remark sooner or later, or Seth would suspect that something heavy was weighing on his thoughts, and start asking him questions he didn’t want to answer. “You really think Wolfe and McDonough are stupid enough to return to the scene of the crime?”

“Not stupidity. Arrogance. And family honor.” Coop had to admire the captain’s thorough profiling of their targets. “If one or both of those men don’t show up to avenge Teddy’s death at the hands of KCPD, I’ll be surprised. Even if they think Teddy was an embarrassment to the family and Cartwright did them a favor, they’ll be back. Sooner or later. Since Wolfe assumed power of his company, he hasn’t had a failure.”

Cooper grinned. “Until he ran into us badasses here in K.C.”

“Something like that.” Captain Kincaid chuckled, making it okay for the snickers in the room to erupt into matching, stress-relieving laughter. “On that note, let’s start wrapping this thing up. We’ve got eyes on Wolfe in London, and McDonough’s picture is on every airport, shipyard and border crossing watch list. If he tries to re-enter the country, we’ll nab him. We’ll…”

While the captain began outlining the task force’s strategy through the end of the year, Seth leaned over and whispered, “Nice one, buddy. So you think Wolfe is going to come to the States to stick it to us?”

Coop shrugged. “A good businessman is going to want to show some kind of victory for his investment here in the U.S. Between us and the Treasury Department, we’ve locked up Wolfe’s money. He doesn’t want to walk away from here empty-handed. Kincaid’s right. One way or another, he’ll be back.”

Seth sat back with a grin. “You’re smarter than you look.”

Coop didn’t miss a beat. “You’re taller than you look.”

“Wiseass.”

“Pee-wee.”

To his credit, Coop’s shoulder-high tank of a partner had mellowed in his emotional moods since finding a woman who could go head to head with him in any battle of words and wills. They could give each other grief, and Seth would walk away smiling with a genuine sense of peace he hadn’t known for a long time.

Coop hid his pensive smile behind another swallow of his tepid morning coffee, swallowing the guilt that nagged at his conscience right along with it. His friendship with Seth Cartwright went deep, and he wouldn’t begrudge the tough guy his well-earned contentment.

Funny how finding a soul mate could reform even the hardest of hearts. Seth and Rebecca Page deserved their happily-ever-after. And come Christmas time, he’d proudly stand up as best man when the two of them got married.

Coop’s mind wandered from the captain’s spiel about timetables and task force goals.

Serving as best man might be as close as he’d ever get to a wedding himself. Not unless he could find a way to purge Sarah Cartwright from his thoughts the same way she seemed to have erased him from her life so quickly and thoroughly.

It had started as a simple kiss that morning in July. Coop had stood by Sarah while a uniformed officer had taken her statement and gotten contact information. He’d held her hand while the officer had promised to post an APB for both a man named McDonough and the blond girl’s body. Sarah had witnessed a murder at the Riverboat Casino. She’d tried to tell Coop something about her father setting her up, something about Teddy Wolfe using her.

And then she’d started crying again before everything made sense. When she’d walked into his arms a second time, Cooper had welcomed her, held her tight. When she’d asked for a kiss, he hadn’t been able to resist.

That kiss had seemed to go on and on. Instead of stopping, it had altered, deepened—demanded—and comfort had given way to passion.

It had been quick that first time. Crazy.

She needed him, she’d said. Needed that affirmation of life, of normalcy. She’d needed that soul-deep connection to another human being that making love could provide. And Coop had wanted to help her so badly—had wanted her so badly—that he hadn’t been able to summon the common sense to refuse her anything she asked.

“I’m sorry.” She’d started apologizing before they’d even had all their clothes back on. “I took advantage of your kindness, your caring. I’m no better than—”

“Hey, that wasn’t completely unexpected between the two of us, was it? Things have been simmering for months. Trust me, kindness had nothing to do with howmuch I wanted you.” He’d tried to draw her back into her bed, had tried to gentle her nervous discomfort with another kiss.

“No. This was a mistake. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

She’d been out of his arms, out of the room before he could get a straight answer about where he’d gone wrong. Then he was out of her apartment, and out of her life before he could really get his head around the idea that Sarah Cartwright had only wanted a warm body to get close to that morning.

She hadn’t been looking for a relationship.

And she sure as hell hadn’t been looking for him.

“Watch it, buddy.” Seth nudged Coop’s arm, wrenching him back to the present. He nodded toward Coop’s hand on the table.

Lukewarm coffee dribbled over the back of Coop’s knuckles, leaking from the paper cup he’d crushed in his fist. Damn. Way to not let this get to you, Bellamy. But he managed to cover his thoughts with half a grin. “Oops.”

“We’ll get these bastards. Don’t worry.” Seth had misread Coop’s frustration, but his reassurance offered an easy excuse.

“I know. We’ll get ’em.”

While Coop mopped at the mess with a paper napkin, John Kincaid finished his briefing. “I’ll contact you individually with your assignments as they come up. In the meantime, return to your normal duties at your home precinct.” Coop tossed the cup and napkin into a nearby trash can as the captain dismissed them. “And remember to keep a twenty-four-hour line of contact open. We want to be able to mobilize our team the instant something new breaks on this case.”

“Yes, sir,” Coop answered, joining the chorus of responses from the task force members as they stood and filed from the room. Wadding up a handful of paper towels from the sink near the exit, he traded gibes and snippets of friendly conversation with his fellow cops as they walked past. Soon it was just him wiping down the table where he’d spilled his coffee, and Seth, waiting at the door for him so they could ride back to the Fourth Precinct building together.

A soft knock at the door echoed in the room’s sudden quiet.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Coop recognized what Seth’s familiar greeting meant. He braced for the figurative punch in the gut, even before he turned around to see his partner swallow up his twin sister in a hug.

“Hey, Seth.” Sarah planted a kiss on her brother’s cheek as she pulled away.

Coop stood back and watched, remembering, comparing that chaste kiss to the brazen thrust of her tongue in his mouth. Damn. Muscles clenched in hidden places, and he was suffused with a sudden heat that made him itchy beneath his skin.

He turned away while the brother and sister, who obviously shared such a deep connection, caught up on the past couple of weeks since they’d last seen each other. He couldn’t deny them the joy this impromptu reunion gave them, not when Coop shared the same kind of bond with his own family. But he didn’t have to stand there and watch and want, and wonder how he could be jealous of Seth—Sarah’s brother. Coop’s partner. His best friend.

Feeling like an unwanted fly at a picnic, Cooper concentrated very hard on carrying the coffee-soaked towels to the trash and dumping them. If there was a back door to this tenth-floor meeting room, he’d already be gone.

“Hey, Coop.”

Was that a hesitation he heard in Sarah’s voice? Or was that just his own reluctance to act like nothing had changed between them when everything felt different—twisted—inside him. Of course, he’d made the effort to call her, to stop by her apartment. But her absences and lack of response had made it embarrassingly clear that he was the only one interested in making something happen between them. Or, at the very least, he was the only one interested in making sense of what had felt like a real relationship to him for about twelve hours or so.

So hell, yeah. If she could pretend nothing had happened that morning, then so could he. Coop strolled over to the doorway to join them, grabbing his KCPD ball cap and pasting on a grin along the way. “Hey, Sarah. So what brings you to Cop Land?”

“I was hoping I could take you to lunch.”

She was still a pint-sized ball of pretty. Neither time nor distance nor three months of a cold shoulder that could have raised goose bumps diminished that fact. Today she wore a denim jumper over a deep-green turtleneck that brought out the color of her eyes. Her wheat-and-honey-colored ponytail was the only evidence of the tomboy she’d once been, because there was nothing boyish about the slightly crooked, all sexy mouth beneath the peachy tint of her lipstick.

“I’ll leave you to it. If you need a ride back to the precinct, Seth, just give me a call.” Coop circled around him and tried to slide out the door without touching Sarah. “See ya.”

“I meant you, Coop.” He paused at the tug on his sleeve. But when he turned to look down at the hand on his arm, Sarah quickly folded her fingers into her palm and tucked her fist back under the jacket she’d draped over her forearms. “My treat.”

The upturned eyes pleaded but didn’t explain the out-of-the-blue request. What the hell?

“Hey, what about me?” Seth protested. “Don’t I rate an invitation?”

Sarah turned back to her brother, leaving Coop to quiz the possibilities on his own. “I happen to know that Rebecca is picking you up downstairs at noon. She said she has plans for you today.” She cocked her head to one side. “Something about china patterns and silverware?”

Seth groaned and reached over her to clasp Coop by the shoulder. “Save me.”

“Hey, don’t look at me. You’re the one who proposed.” It was easier to joke than to let anything get too serious with Sarah standing between them. “I see you as sort of a ‘pewter goblet’ kind of guy myself.”

“I am wearing a gun, remember?”

“Cut it out, you two,” Sarah chided them both. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, Rebecca did say something about being able to get the job done in twenty minutes and then having the rest of her lunch break to do whatever it is you two do when you have…free time together?” The wink-wink teasing in her voice was obvious.

And Seth was eating it up. “Hmm. I think pickin’ out dishes just got a little more interesting.”

“You wish, Cartwright.” Coop had rarely seen a smile on his partner’s face during the eight long months he’d worked undercover at the casino and gotten cozy with the mob. He wasn’t about to douse Seth’s well-deserved happiness by bringing up anything like the fact he’d slept with his sister and then hadn’t spoken to her for twelve weeks. Even if the latter hadn’t been his choice.

Seth was already anxious to leave. “So what are you two going to do? If you’re ganging up as best man and maid of honor to pull some kind of prank at the reception or the bachelor party, you can just forget it.” He pointed a stern finger at Sarah. “I know you’re a good girl, but you…?”

Coop threw his hands up in mock surrender at the accusatory finger now pointed his way. “I’m a good girl, too.”

“Yeah, right.” Seth’s laugh demanded that Coop and Sarah join in, too. “You guys have fun.” He kissed his sister’s cheek, then poked that finger against Coop’s chest. “Not too much fun, though. You mind your manners.”

Sarah nudged her brother down the hallway. “I’ll make sure he does. Now go. Don’t keep Rebecca waiting.”

Seth spared them a glance over his shoulder. “I guess I won’t be needing to bum that ride back to the Fourth. I’ll have Bec drop me off after we…lunch.”

“Braggart.”

With a laugh, Seth strutted off toward the elevators. The hallway outside the briefing room was awkwardly quiet, now that Coop was alone with Sarah.

“Wow.” Sarah hugged her jacket to her waist and watched her brother all the way until his parting salute from behind the closing elevator doors. “I haven’t seen Seth this happy in months. He’s like the young guy he used to be before…” Her voice trailed away as though she was surprised to discover just how distasteful the end of that sentence was going to be. She leveled her shoulders and turned back to Coop. “Who’d have thought his arch-nemesis Rebecca Page would turn out to be so good for him?”

“Yeah. Who’d’ve thunk?” Coop agreed. Sarah’s gaze danced to the left. He studied the corduroy collar on her jacket. Yeah, this was awkward. “Don’t you have school today?” he asked, needing to hear something besides strained silence.

Green eyes met his. “I took the morning off. I had a doctor’s appointment.”

A flare of genuine concern made him lean in half a step. He understood bad news from the doctor better than most. “Are you sick? Hurt?”

She inhaled and slowly released a deep breath that did nothing to ease his worry. “Is there someplace private we can talk?” she asked.

“This is KCPD headquarters. Someone’s always watchin’ around here.”

His lame attempt at humor earned nothing more than a blink. “I’m serious, Coop.”

Yeah, that was reassuring.

So, had she finally gotten around to analyzing what had happened between them? Maybe this was the clean break he’d been hoping for, yet dreading at the same time. And if there was truly some bad news…

Cooper looked beyond her to the noise and bustle of administrative support staff working at their desks in the floor’s main room. With pairs and groups of blue suits and detectives still standing around and discussing the task force meeting and other business, he and Sarah weren’t going to find any privacy out there. He looked back toward the row of reinforced glass windows that formed the near wall of the briefing room. Even if they went inside and closed the door, anyone could look through the windows and see them together. And too much time spent alone with Sarah—in deep conversation or a possible argument—would surely get back to Seth. And Coop didn’t want to answer to that one.

The sun was shining outside. The air was crisp but not cold. Coop angled his head toward the exit. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Turning, Sarah led the way to the elevator. Coop pulled his hat over his bare head and, hanging back far enough so that he couldn’t reach out and touch her, followed behind.

SARAH WAS AFRAID THE QUEASY sensation in her stomach had nothing to do with the elevator ride or the secret she carried inside her.

Instead, she worried it had a lot to do with the tall, lanky detective leaning against the railing on the far side of the elevator. There was a guarded awareness to his deceptively relaxed stance. A curious introspection to the hooded blue eyes that watched the buttons light up with each floor they passed. Cooper Bellamy’s unnatural silence on the ride down to the main floor was all the proof she needed that she had done him a terrible wrong.

She’d traded a friend for a lover that morning when she’d been so afraid, so confused, so desperate to cling to his sheltering strength. And now she had neither. She’d felt more wanted, more necessary to someone in that first long kiss she’d shared with Cooper Bellamy than she’d felt in the weeks or months she’d spent dating anyone else. But the discovery couldn’t have come at a worse time.

She’d been fooled once by Teddy Wolfe. Fooled more times than she could count by her own father. How could she believe anything a man told her? How could she believe in anything she felt?

Humiliation was a hard thing to admit to, and losing that last shred of trust in her father had been a painful lesson to learn. Sarah’s shameful silence these past weeks had been about curling up in a hole and licking her wounds. It was easier to be alone—to work and sleep and nothing more—than it was to doubt other trusts she had given, to fear the consequences of other choices she had made. At least alone, she could inflict no more damage on her own fragile sense of self, or on anyone else she dared to care about.

But then the naps had become more frequent, had lasted longer. She had caught a feverless flu bug that hit about the same time every morning if she didn’t snack between breakfast and lunch. A blue dot on a little plastic stick had confirmed what she’d already suspected. The report from her Ob/Gyn this morning had made the dreaded news official.

Sarah couldn’t hide anymore.

A woman was dead. Her murderer had skipped the country. Sarah’s deposition was on record, but without a killer to put on trial, her testimony was useless. Teddy Wolfe was dead, by her brother’s hand, so there was no way to confront him for what he had done, no satisfaction to be gained by exposing him for the player he was. And even if she hadn’t severed every connection with her pimp of a father, there was no helping him with his addiction.

Sarah was helpless. Useless. She could do nothing to make things right.

But she could be honest.

As she stole a glance at the man reflected in the elevator’s polished steel doors, she knew she owed Cooper Bellamy that much.

They’d left the elevator and crossed through the security checkpoint on the first floor before Coop said his next word.

“Here.” After shrugging into his own Army-issue camo-print jacket, he pulled her canvas barn coat from her twisting arms and held it so she could switch her purse from hand to hand and slide her arms into the sleeves.

“Thanks.”

He pushed open the door that led to the building’s granite steps down to the sidewalk and street. When a trio of uniformed police officers met them coming up the steps, Coop touched his hand to the small of her back and guided her to the side, out of their path.

His gentlemanly considerations surprised her. The speed with which he did the job and broke contact with her did not. Feeling the chill of his aversion to her as much as the bite of the autumn breeze on her cheeks, Sarah buttoned her jacket and thrust her hands into its deep pockets.

The touch of his fingers at her elbow burned through canvas and cotton, but only long enough to dodge traffic as they crossed the street and headed north toward a clearing dotted with trees and benches and modern sculptures. “The park looks pretty empty. We can walk through it up to the courthouse and back.”

“That’d be fine.” The city block that had been cleared of condemned buildings and reclaimed to offer a spot of beauty in the midst of downtown renovations should have been a balm to her frazzled nerves and traitorous stomach. The oaks and maples were studded with red and orange leaves, while the shrubs surrounding each seating area had turned a rich yellow. But even though a couple shared a bench and a picnic lunch and a pair of women power-walked over its concrete paths, Sarah couldn’t share an appreciation for the safety and beauty of the place. She fisted her hands around the strap of her purse and debated how she was going to start this conversation. None of the words she’d been rehearsing seemed adequate enough.

They were halfway to the courthouse when Coop broke the silence for her. “So, are we just gonna walk and pretend we’ve got nothing to say to each other, or is there a point to this exercise?”

Sarah counted the steps off in her head. One. Two. Three. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

Oh, God. She’d skipped every preamble. Every explanation. Every apology. Was the blood draining from her head? Or was the sidewalk suddenly spinning for some other, more logical reason? “I’m going to have a baby.”

“I know what the word means. Do you want me to say congratulations?” He stopped her with a hand on her arm and the world quickly righted itself. But his grip was as tight as the clip of his words. “Or are you lookin’ for backup before you tell your old-fashioned brother that you’re having a baby without benefit of a husband first?”

“Don’t joke, Coop.” He pulled away and she took that as a cue to keep walking. “I’m three months along. That makes you the father.”

She took four more steps before she realized he’d stopped. When she turned to face him, she saw cold-eyed suspicion filling the laugh lines on his face. “Impossible.”

Sarah curled her arms around herself, around the innocent beginnings of life growing inside her. She’d never seen that kind of hardness in Coop’s expression before. “You and I didn’t use protection that morning. And I wasn’t on the pill because I’m not…I wasn’t…sexually active.”

“It isn’t mine.”

“Why are you…?” Sarah checked her temper. He had every right to be angry, though she hadn’t expected this flat-out denial. “Look, I’m not telling you this because I expect something from you. I’m not looking for a wedding ring or child support or anything.”

“Hell. Those things I can give you.” He turned and headed back toward headquarters, his long legs quickly putting distance between them.

Sarah hurried to catch up. “You’ve always been a good friend and I wanted to be up-front about it. Before my belly starts to show and people start asking questions. I didn’t want you to think I was hiding it from you.”

He whirled around and Sarah backpedaled to keep from running into him. “You slept with someone else.” His statement of fact sounded like an accusation. “Or was I the fling? Old Coop wasn’t good enough? Being together didn’t mean a damn thing to you, did it?”

Old? Try virile. Wonderful. Loving. Sarah tilted her head back to absorb every bit of hurt and accusation he hurled from those dark blue eyes. She tried to bring back the familiar kindness with the truth. “It meant everything. I needed you. I needed…But it was too soon. I wasn’t ready for emotions to kick in. I couldn’t handle anything serious. I may never be able to give you…to give anyone…”

Oh, God. Sarah’s strength faltered. Coop’s face swam out of focus and her stomach churned. She’d missed her morning snack, lunch was late, the growing baby made such demands on her body. Guilt made such demands on her soul.

She had slept with one other man. But they’d used a condom.

Squeezing her lips shut against the roiling protest in her stomach, Sarah opened her purse and fished for the bag of snacks she carried inside. She found the bag but couldn’t see the opening, couldn’t find the zipper, couldn’t get it open. “Damn it.”

She swayed. She was falling. She was going to be lying on the grass, losing her breakfast—and Cooper still wouldn’t understand the obvious truth. The hopeful truth.

“Sarah?” Strong hands grabbed her by the elbows and took her weight. Her cheek hit soft flannel, and a harder warmth underneath. “C’mon.”

Then she was twisting, floating. Sitting on a solid bench with two hands at her waist to steady her, and a firm shoulder in front of her to brace herself against. The spinning in her stomach calmed to a manageable level, and she blinked Cooper’s face into focus. He knelt in front of her, his angular features softened with cautious concern. Sarah pulled her hand from his shoulder and traced the line of his jaw.

“You have a good heart. You’d make a wonderful father.” But the honest observation turned his concern into a scowl. Feeling an imagined frostbite in her fingertips, Sarah quickly retreated and pulled the bag of fruit and pretzels from her purse. “I’m sorry. I’m not doing this on purpose. I need to eat.”

“You should have said something. Here.” He took the bag from her fumbling grasp. His fingers worked more surely than hers to open it and pull out a bag of pretzels and an apple. “Which do you want?”

He opened the pretzels she reached for and zipped the apple back into the bag. The salty snack was tasteless on her tongue and dry going down her throat. But the effect on her stomach was almost instantaneous relief.

Coop waited for her to eat a palmful before speaking again. The bite of sarcasm had left his voice, but an unfamiliar hardness shaded his eyes and aged his expression. “Look, I knew you were upset about sleeping with me. But I thought it was because you preferred to have me in your life as a brother—or you were worried about it messing with Seth’s and my working relationship. I had no idea you regretted it because you were already sleeping with someone else.”

“Stop saying that. I wasn’t seeing anyone. I mean, you weren’t…” Sarah stopped chewing and swallowed. No, no, no, no, no. She and Teddy had done it once. Thankfully, she’d made him use a condom. It had been embarrassingly quick. Awful. A terrible mistake. But accidents happened. She and Coop had thrown caution to the wind. It had been beautiful. Natural. Redeeming. Perfect. She curled her arm around her stomach and looked deep into those blue eyes, willing him to understand. This had to be Coop’s baby. “We spent all morning in bed, making—”

“I can’t father a child.”

Sarah shook her head, desperate to make sense of Cooper’s hurtful words. Tears stung her eyes, but she blamed the hormones and swiped them away before they could fall. “It has to be you.”

“I didn’t use protection because we didn’t need to.” Coop pushed to his feet and sat beside her with a resigned sigh. He pulled off his cap and rubbed his handsome, shiny head. Not a style choice. A consequence. “You know I had cancer, right?”

She nodded. “Sure. Seth talked about it. He said you were in college at the time—before he knew you. But he said you were okay. I mean, look at you. You’re a strong, strapping…” Suddenly stricken with real compassion, Sarah reached out and curled her fingers around his forearm. “Oh, my God. You’re not sick again, are you?”

He shrugged off her touch as if it repulsed him. “No. My cancer’s history. I take care of myself. I go in for regular follow-ups. I’ve been cancer-free for five years now. With surgery and radiation, I beat the damn monster. But not without some collateral damage.”

Sarah tilted her gaze to the top of his head. “So you can’t grow hair.”

“And I can’t make babies.”

Coop was raw inside. He never talked about this. But Sarah’s news hurt so damn much. It was like the army officers at the front door. The no-nonsense doctor in the tiny exam room.

Sarah wasn’t his—never had been. Still, he felt betrayed.

In a perfect world, he’d be the only man in her life. But there was nothing perfect about his dad being killed in action, then finding out the same month he had a tiny tumor growing in his prostate gland.

He’d had to beat the cancer. Not for his sake, but for his mother’s. And for Katharine, James, Grace and Clint, Jr. His family needed him to step up and be the man of the house. He had to be the strength, the financing, the discipline, the love and support in his father’s place. Sure, there were government benefits. Every Bellamy worked, from part-time jobs to paper routes. His dad’s older brother, Walt, now a retired professor from the University of Missouri, had sent money and offered help however he could.

But he had to be the man. He had to be there for the day-to-day stuff. Sacrifices had to be made. And Coop, a young man who hadn’t even reached the prime of his life yet, had done it willingly.

The urologist had warned him there’d be a change in his sex life. Oh, the plumbing all worked now, worked just fine. But there was something like a ninety-nine-percent chance he could never make the miracle of life happen. All his little Coopers had been sacrificed so that he could live.

To take care of his family.

To become a cop.

To love and lose out big-time.

Sarah needed to hear the truth. He needed to hear the reason why he’d kept his distance from a woman who seemed so crazy-right for him that, even now, he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and kiss some color back into her cheeks. But he wouldn’t be that much of a fool. He needed to remind himself why he should have walked away that morning instead of giving in to what he thought they’d both wanted. “I’m sterile.”

“Sterile?” she echoed. If possible, her skin grew even more pale.

“You may be pregnant…” Maybe some bastard had broken her heart. Maybe the father didn’t mean any more to her than Coop did. But the sympathy she wanted, the acceptance she’d expected, wouldn’t come. “But that baby isn’t mine.”

Chapter Three

He brushed aside the first leaves to fall and splayed his fingers over the cold red marble that marked Danielle Ballard’s grave.

Washington Cemetery was a beautiful, tranquil place—except for that nosy groundskeeper who’d asked too many curious questions about his visit so late in the day. It didn’t matter that it was closing time and that that peon had been ready to shut and lock the gates. He’d come a long way to see Dani. To see the woman he loved.

No one would keep him from her.

He picked at the blood that was drying beneath his manicured nails and stood. He could get used to living in Kansas City. The tree-studded hills away from the heart of downtown reminded him of the Lake District back in England. The rustle of wind through the autumn leaves reminded him of his boyhood in Keswick. Of course, he’d become a Londoner by the necessity of his job description—and there were perks to that historic and sophisticated city, which he’d miss.

There was history here, too, albeit the Wild West-cowboy kind. The city had theater and music and art. And though Kansas City had nothing to rival any Manchester United powerhouse, there was even a decent football—or soccer, as they called it in the States—team here.

He could buy box seats at the games, become a patron of one of the museums. He could even put up a stake and reopen the damned casino if Mr. Wolfe thought it could still be a useful front. He would definitely reopen the drug pipeline that had shown such potential for growth had it been managed properly. Some of the players were still in place. Other slots could easily be filled. With his strong hand, the distribution network could be reestablished, deadlines and quotas enforced, and he’d be raking in money in a way that Teddy Wolfe never had.

He’d done the groundwork to create Wolfe International’s presence in the Midwest—on both the legitimate and more profitable business fronts. He’d done the jobs Teddy hadn’t had the stomach to deal with. And despite Teddy’s crash-and-burn over one woman too many and a clever deception by KCPD, the law had never touched him. He was smarter. Stronger. More loyal to Theodore Wolfe than his own son, Teddy, had ever been.

He deserved the opportunity to run the Wolfe empire.

“Shaw? Are you listening to me?”

He bristled at the impatient demand in his employer’s slickly accented voice. One day, Theodore Wolfe, Sr., would be down on his knees, begging him for favors.

“Don’t call me Shaw, sir.” The old governor might slip, without even realizing it, and give him away.

“Not to worry. This call can’t be traced. And I simply can’t get my head around your new name.”

“Then don’t use any name.”

But Theodore Wolfe, builder and boss of the Wolfe International empire, didn’t take criticism well. “I paid for your face and name. I’ll call you anything I damn well like.”

The man once known as Shaw McDonough bit his tongue. “Of course, Mr. Wolfe. I was merely thinking of the assignment you gave me. Avenging your son’s death?”

“His murder,” Wolfe corrected. Good. Let the old man be the one having the emotional reaction. He’d learned the hard way that rational thinking and careful planning for every contingency were the only ways to guarantee survival in this business. “Have you tracked down Seth Cartwright?”

He laughed. The old man didn’t even know he was already in Kansas City. “I haven’t failed you yet. Don’t worry, I’ve set things in motion to get Cartwright’s attention.”

“I want the entire family to pay. He needs to hurt the same way I do.”

It was because of Seth Cartwright, and others like him at KCPD, that he had been brought to this place. He pulled a pink, long-stemmed rose from the bouquet at his feet and kissed the bud. “We’ve all suffered a tremendous loss here, sir. Trust me, they’ll pay.”

“Are you certain you want to do this? I have other men I can call.”

“Oh, I want to do this.” A reporter named Reuben Page and his story about the Wolfe family had forced him into this position. Danielle had worked for the city, coordinating communications between the economic development committee and the gaming commission. She’d fed Page information on bribes Teddy Wolfe had paid council members. He’d had no qualms about silencing Page and his story. Teddy had even been on hand, talking tough like he was the one pulling the trigger. But interest from KCPD and men like Seth Cartwright had forced him to take his job one step further. His sworn loyalty to Theodore Wolfe had left him no choice but to silence the woman he loved. It was only right that he be repaid for his loss. “I’ll take down the Cartwrights for you and put an end to the task force’s investigation.”

What happened after that would remain his own little secret.

“Call if you need anything.” Theodore Wolfe was dismissing him. “I have men and money in place, ready to assist you.”

“You got me back into the country with a new identity.” He combed his fingers through the thick wave of dark hair he’d been growing out for months. Danielle would have liked it. She’d always said his short cut was too severe. But covering the strands of gray and growing it out wasn’t the only obvious change in his appearance. “That’s enough for now. If I need anything else, I’ll let you know.”

“They killed my boy, Shaw. Teddy may have been a disappointment, but he was my flesh and blood. That can’t go unpunished.”

“It won’t. You’ll keep to our agreement?”

“You’re the closest thing I have to a son now. Do what I ask, and everything I own in the States is yours.”

Shaw McDonough disconnected the overseas call. He pressed the phone against his temple and flipped it shut. Then he placed the pink rosebud over Danielle’s name and straightened.

The hour was late, but there was something pleasant, freeing, about the cooling night air. Tomorrow would be soon enough to begin his work. He’d spend a little more time with Danielle. Maybe he’d eat one of those famous Kansas City steaks tonight. Then he’d sleep. God, how he needed to sleep.

It felt good to be back in Kansas City. Good to be back where there was so much to do. Good to be back with Danielle.

“I love you, Dani.”

A few minutes later he walked down the hill to the rented car he’d parked there.

It would be good to finally get what was rightfully his.

SARAH WATCHED HER fourth graders run from the monkey bars to the climbing pit, argue over whose turn it was in an impromptu game of kickball and huddle together at the edge of the playground to discuss the plans and secrets that nine-and ten-year-olds loved to talk about. Normally, one of the aides brought her students out for afternoon recess while she graded papers or prepped the next lesson, but today she needed the fresh air.

She needed something to stir her from the disturbing thoughts that had given her a fitful sleep last night and had plagued her all day long.

“I’m sterile.”

How could that be possible? Cooper Bellamy was a kid at heart, with a wise man’s soul. He’d lived through the worst the world had to offer and had come out a stronger man for it—strong enough to keep his sense of humor and not turn bitter. He’d make a wonderful father, combining just the right amount of softie and strength.

But he couldn’t be a father. He could never pass on those tall, blue-eyed genes.

That meant…

Sarah didn’t even want to think of the alternative. She caught a strand of hair the breeze kept trying to free and tucked it back behind her ear. Concentrating on the small, mindless task offered a brief respite from the inevitable truth she had to face.

Her brief affair with Teddy Wolfe had left her ego in shreds, her faith in men in shambles. She’d been leading with her heart all her life—loving, forgiving, trusting. What an idiot she’d been, thinking the father she’d protected for so long would protect her in return, thinking the man she desired would desire her in the same way.

Now she couldn’t even trust her own judgment. The instincts she’d always believed in had led her astray. She’d gotten herself pregnant by a mobster who was now dead. A man surrounded by deception and murder. A man she couldn’t form any cherished memories over because he’d used her merely as a means to an end. He must have loved that other woman—Dawn—whom she’d seen shot and killed and bundled away—if he was even capable of loving. Teddy wasn’t the man she’d thought he was.

Neither was her father.

But Coop…

Sarah turned her face into the breeze to keep the hair off her face. She warned one of her boys down from the top of the monkey bars, checked the time and quickly scanned the rest of the play area to make sure all were safe and accounted for in the last five minutes of play time. But she couldn’t shake the images of heat and hardness against her skin. Of tender, husky praises against her ear. Of seductive, demanding lips against her own.

Lying in Cooper Bellamy’s arms had been healing and foolish and wonderful. She was ashamed to think that she’d taken advantage of his long-time friendship. She’d been so frightened, so vulnerable. She’d looked to him for acceptance and strength, and he’d been too kind to turn her away.

Coop was caring and funny. Strong. And so intuitively perceptive. He’d known what she needed. Her brother said the same thing about his police work. That he just seemed to know when he needed to show up.

He’d shown up and more. He’d made her feel whole. Clean. He’d made her feel it was safe to trust him.

No wonder he’d acted so betrayed yesterday. He’d been there for her when she’d needed him most. And she’d repaid him by secluding herself without an explanation and getting pregnant by another man.

Cooper Bellamy deserved better.

The thought of carrying Teddy Wolfe’s child while a good man like Coop was cheated of fatherhood made her sick to her fragile stomach.

So how was she going to make this right? Short of turning back time and being wiser the second time around, how could she fix this?

“I’m not blaming you, sweetie.” She instinctively folded her arm across her waist and let her hand slide down a fraction to caress her belly. As the shock had worn off and she distanced herself from that awful night, she was beginning to fall in love with the child. Being a single mother wouldn’t be easy, but it was one challenge she refused to fail. Maybe motherhood was one relationship she could get right. After all, she had a stellar role model in Shauna Cartwright-Masterson.

Oh, damn. Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose and blinked away the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. Her mom was going to make a fabulously cool grandmother. Commissioner of Police. Pretty nifty title for a grandma. Plus, she could cook and bake like nobody’s business when she had the time, so she was a winner whether this baby decided to be an overachiever or a homebody or both. Stupid hormones. Sarah snuck her fingers up to wipe away the tear that had spilled over.

Maybe she had more to live up to as a single mom than she’d considered. What if she made more stupid choices? What if her baby paid the price for her mistakes?

“Not gonna happen.” Sarah rubbed a soothing circle over her stomach, reassuring herself as much as the baby. “None of this is your fault. I’ll do better by you. I promise.”

The first step would be telling someone besides Coop that she was pregnant. The cool October air had helped her delay the announcement by giving her an excuse to wear layers and loose sweaters that masked her changing shape. Her waist was already thickening and her small breasts seemed to be firmer, if not actually bigger. Though there was no bump to show on her belly yet, she hoped there would be fewer questions later if she started wearing baggy clothes now.

Eventually she’d have to have an explanation for her students. And when the baby arrived in April, she’d have to have arrangements in place with the administration regarding her maternity leave. One of the family dinners she went to with her mom and stepfather, and Seth and his fiancée, Rebecca, would be a perfect opportunity to share the news with the family.

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