Lawman (27 page)

She pursed her lips and grinned at him. “I might do that.”

He rolled over onto his back and yawned. “I have to go to court tomorrow and testify against those bank robbers we caught. I'll probably be home late.”

She kissed his shoulder. “I'll make a late supper.”

He smiled, sliding his arm around her. “You're the nicest wife on earth. It's no wonder I love you.”

Her heart skipped. It was the first time he'd said the words. “Do you, really?”

His dark eyes emphasized the feeling in the words. “With all my heart. For all my life. And I hope we have a very long time together.”

She curled up against him, enveloped in happiness. All the lonely, painful years had led her down a path that ended in love and passion and a child born of that love. We earn our happiness, her grandfather had once told her, with pain and tears. She smiled drowsily, ignoring the faint twinge of her incision, and pressed a soft kiss against her husband's strong, warm shoulder.

“We're going to have years and years,” she promised. “And I'll love you more with every one that passes.”

He drew her closer, careful not to hurt her chest. “I'll love you the same way.”

“And we can both talk to the rose bushes,” she mused.

“As long as nobody hears us,” he agreed. “I work for the FBI,” he reminded her. “I can't be overheard talking to plants.”

She kissed his shoulder again, still wrapped in the warm aftermath of belonging. “And they say that federal agents have no sense of humor,” she scoffed.

He gave her a squinty look. “Listen, this businesslike expression is the reason I just got promoted to ASAC in San Antonio. Now I can give orders and go to luncheons with famous politicians. I'll even take you with me, if you promise not to wear that blue dress.”

The dress was a standing joke. She'd hung it in her closet. She brought it out when she wanted to irritate him. That wasn't often, since her surgery. He'd been the most wonderful caretaker she'd ever imagined a man could be.

“I'll promise,” she agreed.

“Did Barbara tell you that Jaqui left town?” he murmured.

“She did? How wonderful!”

“Stop that,” he said drowsily. “She was never any competition for you. She'll go to some big city and become a tycoon.”

“Like me?” she teased.

He glanced at her. “You can only be a tycoon if you don't have to travel ten months out of the year promoting your project. I don't even like having you away for a day. I have insecurities. You have to reassure me that I'm valued.”

“I do?” She moved up a little and nibbled his mouth again. “How's this?”

He grinned. “Nice. Don't stop.”

She kissed him again, with more fervor. “Better?”

His arms reached out for her. “Addictive,” he whispered. “I want years and years of this.”

She smiled against his hard mouth, tangling her fingers in his thick hair. “Me, too.”

There was a sudden wail from the monitor.

 

T
HEY BOTH GOT UP
at the same time, moving hastily into the next room, where their son was screaming. His tiny face was red as fire.

Garon took a whiff and swallowed hard.

Grace pursed her lips. She recognized that smell, too.

“We could draw straws,” Garon suggested.

She punched him in the ribs. “Somebody who can lift him has to do this, and I can't yet.”

He still hesitated.

“Listen, tough guy, you were a hostage rescuer. You were even on the SWAT team….”

“It's in the rule book that FBI agents do not have to change diapers,” he informed her haughtily. “Paragraph 211, section three, chapter 10.”

“There's no such rule,” she scoffed.

“Yes, there is. I'll go right now and look it up, while you change him. You don't have to lift him,” he added hopefully. “It's a very high bed.”

He sounded very desperate. She had to force herself not to burst out laughing. He'd never told her himself, but she knew from Miss Turner that when he was faced with his first really dirty diaper, during her recuperation, he threw up before he could change it.

He handed her the wipes and a new disposable diaper, and his eyes spoke volumes.

She gave him a wry look.

He shrugged. “You wipe, I'll tape?”

She did laugh then. Shaking her head, she did her half of the dirty work and left him to put the fresh diaper in place.

He lifted the tiny boy to his bare chest and held him there, kissing the top of his small, soft little head.

She watched him, her eyes brimming with quick tears, at the picture it made.

He glanced down and saw the look. “What?” he asked.

She leaned against him, her fingers tracing the baby's soft cheek. “I was just counting my blessings,” she said huskily. “It's impossible. I have too many.”

He bent and kissed her forehead with breathless tenderness. “As many as grains of sand in the ocean,” he said huskily, with profound feeling, his dark eyes glittery with it. “I'll cherish you all my life. All the way down into the dark. And the last picture I have in my mind will be your face, smiling at me.”

Tears rained down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered tenderly, kissing away her tears as the baby went to sleep in his arms. “I'll never stop!”

And he never did.