Harlequin Superromance September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: This Good Man\Promises Under the Peach Tree\Husband by Choice (5 page)

A chorus of voices greeted him.

His eyes met hers very briefly, expressing an astonishing amount given that she doubted anyone else in the room would so much as notice.

“Glad to see such a turnout,” he said, inclining his head.

“Would you like to join us?” she asked.

“No, I, uh...” He backed up. “Just thought I'd look in.”

His retreat duly noted, the audience turned back to her. Trying to put him out of her mind, Anna struggled to remember where she'd been in her familiar script. She sneaked a glance at the clock. Oh, well. With only fifteen minutes left to go, she could fill the time with questions.

When she asked if anyone had any, a gratifying number of hands shot up.

By the time she finished, she felt really good about the evening. Several people talked to her afterward and took the brochures and initial applications she'd brought. The last of them left, and she gathered up her material and notes, then started for the door. She still had ten minutes before the library closed to take a quick look at the new books. Anna was chagrined to catch herself wondering whether Reid might still be in the library.

She was reaching for the light switch when he once again filled the doorway.

“Anna.”

“Captain Sawyer.”

“Surely we're to the first-name stage.”

She pretended to look surprised. “Are we?”

His jaw tightened.

“Did you need something?” she asked, keeping her voice pleasant. “You know that I'm more involved in supervising foster homes than in working directly with the kids. But if you have a question, I might be able to refer you to someone who can help—”

“I don't have a question.” His irritation was obvious.

“Then?”

His jaw muscles spasmed again. “Never mind. Have a good evening,
Ms.
Grant.”

He was shrugging on the parka and walking toward the exit when she hurriedly followed him out into the lobby. She'd been a bitch, and all because he'd made it obvious he wasn't interested in her. Politely.

“Captain... Reid,” she said more softly.

For a moment she thought he wasn't going to stop. He was almost to the exterior doors when he hesitated and turned. “Anna.”

Now she felt awkward. “You must have had something you wanted to talk to me about.”

He looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable, as it so often was. “Call it an impulse,” he said finally.

“I'm really not in any hurry.” She didn't move closer to him, but kept her voice down for reasons she didn't understand. The moment seemed...significant. The two of them were very alone, though there was activity behind her in the brightly lit library proper, while headlights were coming on out in the parking lot. They were bound to be interrupted any minute; with the library closing, patrons would be streaming out, or someone would emerge from one of the restrooms. She suddenly, desperately, wanted to know why he'd hung around to talk to her.

“I have a problem with a teenager,” he said slowly. “I thought you might be an expert available for consultation.”

Her disappointment was acute. So he'd wanted her only in her professional capacity. Of course. Trying for brisk, she said, “I don't know that I'd call myself an expert on teenagers in particular, but I'm happy to help if I can.” She did owe him one. She shifted the weight of the heavy bag slung over her shoulder and started toward him and the exit. “You're welcome to call me, or—”

“It's my brother.” Lines had deepened on his forehead. He looked disconcerted, as if he hadn't meant to say that.

“A teenager?” she blurted in surprise.

That very speaking eyebrow of his twitched. “Think I'm too old to have a brother that young?”

“Well, um, yes?”

He grimaced. “You're right. I am. I should have said
half brother.
Who I didn't know existed until a few months ago.”

“That sounds like a story.” He wasn't moving, so she came to a stop.

“It is.” He shook his head. “You probably just want to get home.”

“Actually, now you have me interested,” she admitted. She didn't know what had happened the last time they had seen each other. She would have sworn he'd been checking out her body, if smoothly. He wouldn't have suggested coffee if he hadn't been attracted to her, would he? It was more as if she'd said something wrong. The annoying part was having no idea what that could have been. It might be that he'd happened to be at the library tonight, saw that she was speaking and thought,
Aha! There's someone I can talk to.
He did say it was an impulse. But...she didn't believe that. He hadn't been carrying any books earlier, and he didn't have one in his hands now, either. She had a feeling he had come looking for her.

“I suppose you've had dinner.” He sounded almost tentative.

“Actually, no. But you don't need to feed me.”

“I wouldn't mind having something to eat myself. How about Chandler's Brewpub?”

“They often have live music,” she pointed out. “Not so great if you want to talk.” She hesitated. “Will you be shocked if I confess I was planning to go to A&W? I really wanted a root-beer float.”

He flashed a grin that made her knees wobble. “A root-beer float and French fries sound damn good to me.” He pushed open the door, letting in a blast of cold air, and waited for her to go through.

She gave an involuntary shiver. “You know where it is?”

“I do.”

“My car's that way.” She gestured vaguely. “See you there.”

He raised a hand and strode away.

* * *

A
NNA
INSISTED
ON
paying for her own meal, a clear message. She carried her tray toward a far booth even though the place was empty but for one other couple, leaving him to place his own order and follow a minute later.

He slid onto the hard plastic bench across from her. “Think we'll hear our numbers from here?”

“I thought you might not want to be overheard,” she said coolly.

“You're right.”

He still didn't know what he was doing here. Not an unusual state for him these days. Confusion seemed to
be
his new usual. Still—he'd made the decision to stay away from Anna, and yet here he was, three whole days later, having sought her out.

Weirdly, when he had driven away from the shelter this afternoon, he'd immediately thought of her. By serendipity, he'd spotted a notice in the morning paper for her talk at the library, so he guessed that was why she'd been at the back of his mind. He could talk to her about Caleb's issues, he'd thought, without saying anything about his relationship to the boy. Then what was the first thing out of his mouth?
He's my brother.

“There's mine,” she said abruptly, sliding out of the booth.

Her number. He'd been so busy brooding, he hadn't even heard.

She was still up there when his was called, but when he turned, Anna waved him back to his seat. She returned with his food, as well as her own.

“Damn, that smells good,” he said, hungrily reaching for his French fries. “This was a good idea.”

“Yes, it was.” She took a slurp from her root-beer float then unwrapped her cheeseburger.

“How'd your talk go?” he asked between bites, aiming to put off a conversation he still wasn't sure he wanted to have.

“Hmm? Oh, good. We're always short of homes, which means I put in a lot of time recruiting new foster parents.”

“Is Angel's Haven local only?”

“You mean Butte County? Mostly, but we do have some scattered foster homes in Deschutes and Klamath Counties. If someone good prefers to work with us rather than an agency closer to them, we don't turn them away. The home has to be near enough for us to visit easily, though.”

He nodded. She talked about some of the questions people had asked tonight, and about the fears she thought kept people from being willing to take in children who might—and often did—have problems.

She switched gears when she finished her burger. “Are you going to tell me how you didn't know you had a brother?”

Reid grunted, no closer to having made a decision about how much to tell her. “I haven't stayed in touch with my father. Didn't know he'd remarried. A few months ago, I ran a check on him. Turns out he's divorced, but they had another kid who stayed with him rather than going with the mother. Caleb. He's...a mess.”

Anna's big gray eyes were compassionate. “In what way?”

“Our father was abusive.” He paused, frowning. “Is.”

“I...see.”

Damn it, there she went again. Wasn't that exactly what she'd said over coffee that scared the shit out of him? The trouble was, she meant it. She saw more than he'd said. And this time he'd set himself up for it.

He reached for a French fry, attempting to look more casual than he felt. “I'm...trying to build a relationship with Caleb. He doesn't want to trust me.”

“Maybe he can't.”

“Can't?” He stared at her, inexplicably angry. “What are you suggesting? That he's broken and unfixable?”

Like me?
The quick thought was unwelcome. If he believed himself to be permanently damaged...maybe Caleb was, too. Maybe he'd found him too late. It was disconcerting to realize how pissed he was at the very idea.

But Anna was frowning repressively at him. “Of course not. I'd never suggest anything of the kind. I've seen too many children from horrific homes blossom when they feel safe and loved.”

Damn. She sounded like Paula.

“I hardly know him,” he said. “Love... That's asking a lot.”

“Can you bring him to live with you?”

“I don't see that as an option.”

“Why not?” she asked.

He should have known she wouldn't let it go that easily.

“Aside from the fact I have a job that demands a whole hell of a lot more than forty hours a week?”

“How old is Caleb?”

“Fifteen,” he said reluctantly.

“Unless you live way out of town, he could get himself home from after-school activities, to friends' houses. He could take on responsibility for putting dinner on the table some nights. He doesn't need the same time commitment from you that a younger child would.”

His appetite had deserted him. “His father won't let him go without an ugly court battle.”

“So you're just going to leave him?” Her spine had straightened and her eyes held the light of battle. Despite the topic and the fact she was judging him, Reid was disconcerted to find his body responding to the fire in her. Apparently, he was turned on by a woman who could take to task not only a crusty desk sergeant, but also a stone-faced police captain.

At least she hadn't commented on what he'd said—
his
father. No one he wanted to claim.

“That's not entirely my decision,” he pointed out. “What I'd like to understand is why Caleb is trying to reject me, too.”

He basked in the way her face softened.

“When you were his age, would trust have come easily to you?” she asked.

He gave a short, harsh laugh. “No.” He'd been with the Hales for a year or more before he felt anything close to that for them. “You're saying I need to prove myself to Caleb.”

“I'm saying that he's testing you. He's pushing you away to see if you'll go.” She leaned forward a little, as if to underline the urgency of what she was saying. She exuded such intensity, he couldn't have looked away from her if someone wearing a ski mask had walked in with a gun and told the cashier to stick 'em up. “What you have to do is refuse to go,” she said. “He needs to see you digging in for him. By fighting for custody of him, if necessary, or only by giving him an ear and a refuge.”

An ear and a refuge. Wasn't that what he'd been trying to offer? He couldn't be Caleb's home, although he thought he'd provided an even better one. He was giving everything he could. Pushing himself into places he'd never gone.

“He's testing me,” he said slowly.

“Without having met him, I can't say for sure, but that's my guess.”

“It fits,” he admitted. “I hadn't thought of it that way.”

There was more, of course; Caleb had wanted his big brother to wade in with fists flying to rescue him. Eventually, he'd see that this way was better. Safer.

A thought crept into Reid's head, a follow-up to things he'd been brooding about anyway. Okay, it was possible he had, without realizing it, come to love Paula and Roger, but...would they actually love Caleb? Did they love all the kids they took in? Some of them? None? Certainly, back then Reid hadn't thought of the word in association with them. His mother was the only person he'd ever been sure loved him—or known he loved, despite the limitations on
her
love.

Whatever Paula and Roger gave was enough for me.

He was stunned by the voice that whispered,
Was it?

No, that was ridiculous. Sure, what kid wouldn't rather have a normal family? Mom, Dad, sister, brother, cat and dog. The cynic in him thought,
Fresh-baked cookies when I came in the door from school, gentle lectures when my grades dropped, a parent in the stands at every football and basketball game. A father who talked openly to me and laid a comforting hand on my shoulder while he listened when I told him my worries.
A warm-hearted TV-sitcom childhood. If they existed, he hadn't seen one up close and personal. Some of his friends seemed to have it good, but who knew what went on behind closed doors? Shame had kept him from telling any of those friends his father beat the shit out of him on a regular basis. He'd never said,
My father killed my mother and got away with it.
So they might have been keeping quiet for the same reason. Once he became a cop, stable, loving families weren't the ones he saw.