Some kind of wonderful (15 page)

"Hi, Mom!"

Both of them turned around to watch as Maggie rushed up to them. Hair windblown, sunglasses tucked into the open collar of her plain white shirt, belted khaki slacks, and slip-on loafers, Maggie looked like a harassed professional. Which she was.

She stopped next to her mother long enough to plant a quick kiss on the older woman's cheek. "Hi, Mom" she said, then, "What a day." She dropped onto the bench seat opposite Carol. "Hi," she said, grinning. "Want anything?"

"Iced tea," Carol said.

"A woman after my own heart." Maggie looked across

the restaurant at her little sister. "Peggy. If you love me, iced tea. Large. Make it two."

"And if I don't?" Peggy called back, laughing.

"Iced tea. Large." Maggie lifted one dark red eyebrow. "Smart-ass," she whispered.

"Margaret..."

Carol grinned. She'd never had a family of her own, but she knew a mother's tone when she heard one. Obviously, so did Maggie.

"Right." She shrugged, dumped her briefcase on the seat beside her, and flipped the small brass latches. Lifting the lid of the leather case, she reached in, pulled out a manila folder, and then shut the case and laid the file on the table. "Uh, Mom," she said, looking up at the woman still cooing at the baby. "Take a walk, okay?"

"Excuse me?" Mary Alice glanced at her daughter.

Maggie winced and smiled. "I've got to talk business with Carol and—"

"Oh, of course." The older woman beamed at her daughter. "Carol, if you don't mind, I'll just take little Liz with me back to the kitchen. You just let me know when you're ready to leave—or if you want to take me up on my offer."

Carol watched them go, then slowly turned her head to look at Maggie. Her eyes were bluer than Jack's, darker, more open somehow. Her deep red hair was cut in a wedge that shifted gracefully with her every movement, then slipped back into place. Maggie's smile was friendly, but her eyes were now wary, so Carol braced herself.

"Offer?" Maggie asked.

"Your mom wants to keep Liz overnight again."

"Nothing Mom loves more than babies," Maggie said, then asked, "How're you getting along with the

baby?" Before she could answer, Peggy delivered two super-sized iced teas in frosty, thick glasses. Maggie smiled her thanks, then shifted her gaze back to Carol.

Once Peggy left, Carol stalled by unwrapping her straw and poking it into her tea. "Fine. Everything's ... fine."

"Good."

"Is there a problem?" Never ask, she told herself, a little too late to bite the words back. Never open the door to a problem. Wait until trouble kicks the door down. Don't go out to meet it. But it was too late now. Whatever was coming had already been invited.

"No."

Carol's stomach unfisted.

"Not really."

The fist tightened again.

"What's that mean?"

Maggie took a long swig of her tea, sighed as if she'd just seen heaven, then leaned back against the vinyl seat-Tipping her head to one side, she studied Carol for a long minute before saying, "A bed's opened up in the children's home."

"Oh."

The home. She remembered what the home had been like. Even as a kid, it had seemed... cold. Empty, though the halls had been crowded with kids who had nowhere else to be. No one to want them. No one to care. She'd seen the baby room. Two rows of cribs where babies of all ages slept and spent their days waiting for attention from too few workers with not enough time.

As an adult, she could look back and see that they'd all done their best. There just had never been enough hands. Or enough money. Or enough attention.

Now, when she thought of the baby room, with the

cribs lined up side by side, she thought that they'd looked like small, individual jail cells. And the tiny inmates were lost in a system that simply couldn't cope.

"You only signed on as an emergency foster parent, Carol," Maggie was saying.

"I know." Because she hadn't wanted to care. Hadn't wanted to fall in love with the baby she was now nuts about. Emergency foster situations never lasted long. She should know that better than most. There was a revolving door on the children's welfare system, and most kids got seasick from swinging in and out of helplessness with dizzying speed. But somehow, Carol'd thought she'd have more than a week.

"We can take her into the home tonight." Maggie's voice was soft, sympathetic. Her eyes shone in the last dying rays of the sun as it slanted through the windows and lay across the manila file like a sign from heaven. "In another week or two, we'll have her in with a permanent foster family."

There it was.

Little Lizardbaby would be gone. Carol wouldn't even be a blip in the tiny girl's memory, but she knew darn well she'd carry Liz in her heart forever. Oh, God. Her stomach twisted and reached up with icy fingers to give her heart a squeeze, too. Was this what a heart attack felt like?

"Or..."

Carol's gaze snapped to Maggie's. "Or?"

Maggie leaned her elbows on the tabletop and linked her fingers together. "I was wondering if you might be interested in being the baby's permanent foster mother."

"Me?" Carol fell back against the seat.

"Why not you?" Maggie smiled slowly, one corner of her mouth lifting.

She inhaled sharply, deeply. Her stomach settled and her thudding heartbeat eased into a steady, even rhythm. She hadn't even considered it because she hadn't wanted to care. But now that she did care, could she walk away from this chance to love and be loved?

No way.

This was a gift.

She could keep Liz.

She wouldn't have to be alone ever again.

From somewhere in the kitchen, Liz sent out a wail that sounded impressive enough for a baby twice her size. And Carol grinned as she turned from the sound to face Maggie. "I think Liz is trying to tell me something. And I vote with her. Where do I sign up?"

about just what she was letting herself in for. But tonight, she was only glad to hear him.

He moved quickly up the stairs and along the faded floral carpet runner in the hall. His steps didn't slow. He didn't pause in front of her door. Instead, he went quickly to his. As he had been for the last few days. He was trying to avoid her. Had done a damn good job of it, too. Because she'd allowed it. Allowed him to back away from those few moments of incredible connection they'd shared with a kiss that had rocked her to her toes.

She'd figured that he'd needed a little time to adjust to whatever was happening between them, so she'd steered clear of him. She'd been willing to let him lock himself up in his apartment. To reinforce the wall that he kept between himself and a world he was determined to stay apart from. A wall that would keep that kiss from ever repeating itself.

Until tonight.

Tonight, the wall came down. Well, maybe not all the way down, she admitted. But she'd certainly ram a hole through it. Because tonight, she wanted to celebrate. She didn't want to be alone. She needed someone to talk to before she burst. And since Phoebe was working at the clinic, guess who was the lucky winner?

Carol hurried across the room, Quinn hot on her heels. His nails clicked cheerfully against the wood floor and Carol did a quick, unsteady dance and dip to the music dripping from her stereo as she slid up to the door. Grabbing the old-fashioned cut-glass knob, she gave it a twist and yanked the door open in time to see Jack ducking into his own apartment.

"Freeze!"

He did.

Carol grinned to herself as he slanted a look at her over his shoulder.

"Hey." A curl of pleasure unwound inside her. Who said watching TV wasn't educational? "What do you know? That worked really well. I've never actually said it before and—"

"Why now?" he asked, one eyebrow lifting in a high arch as he watched her.

She met that eyebrow lift with one of her own. Although she didn't have the one-brow lift down like he did, so both of hers went up, which really didn't have the same effect at all. But Carol absolutely refused to let that cranky tone of his bring her down. She'd expected the snarls and the shutters in his eyes and had surprised him anyway.

She wouldn't back off now. "No way," she said, shaking her head and holding up one hand like a crossing guard protecting her charges. "You're not going to ruin this for me."

"I'm not doing a damn thing, Baker. Just going into my place."

"Nope. Not tonight." She reached out to grab his forearm. Her fingers held on and tightened when she felt him flex the muscles lying just beneath his warm skin. Ribbons of something really delicious spooled throughout her body. She swallowed hard. "No locking yourself up tonight, mister."

"You're drunk."

"Not yet."

"Your eyes are rolling."

She grinned at him. "Well, that explains a lot." Huffing a breath in and then out again, she squinted up at him. "You only have the one set of eyes, right?"

"Last time I looked."

"Okay good." She'd eat a little something before having more wine, she decided. But she would have more wine. And she wasn't going to whoop it up alone. "Come on in."

He shot a look through her open apartment door and then lowered his gaze to take in the less-than-welcoming stare Quinn was giving him. "No thanks."

"Come on, Reilly." She didn't put a plea in her voice, but she couldn't keep it out of her eyes. "Give me a break. Come in and have a drink with me."

He blew out a breath, turned and stared down at her. There was no welcome in his eyes, but he hadn't shaken her hand off, so Carol took that as a good sign.

"Why?" he demanded.

"To celebrate."

"What?"

She frowned at him. "Jesus, you're a good time, you know it?"

One corner of his mouth tipped up briefly, then flattened again a heartbeat later, just before she had enough time to enjoy it.

"What's going on?"

Carol smiled again. 'That's what I'm trying to tell you, so come on."

She dragged at him, and when he reached back and closed his apartment door before letting her pull him after her, she counted it as a victory. But just to be sure, she didn't let go of him until they were inside her apartment and she'd closed the door behind him.

A classic-rock channel on the radio pumped in a clash of sound that, even with the volume turned low, refused to be ignored. The Beach Boys sang about good vibrations and Carol did a quick little sidestep along with the steady beat. Then she grinned and reached out

to snag up the bottle of wine and a glass off the coffee table.

Filling one for him, then topping off her own, she handed Jack one of the etched crystal glasses. While he held it, his gaze still on hers, she lifted her glass, clinked it to his, and grinned at the musical ping of crystal meeting crystal.

'To me," she crowed as she took a drink, then swallowed and frowned when he didn't mirror her action.

"Hello?" she said. "This is a toast. You're supposed to drink to me, too."

"Do I get to know why?" he asked, that corner of his mouth twitching again.

Seriously, she thought as her heart did a fast trip and hammer, if he ever really gave her a flat-out grin, it'd probably knock her on her ass. He was more potent than the wine.

"Why?" she repeated, then said, "Oh!" She laughed and reached out for him, laying one hand on his forearm again. He just felt... good. Why not touch? she thought. Why not feel everything? Tonight of all nights? "That's right. Haven't told you yet. I'll tell you and then we'll try that toast thing again. It's about Liz."

"The baby?" His gaze narrowed as he shifted a quick, calculating glance around the room. "Where is she?" he asked as his gaze slid back to her. "You lose her again?"

"She's at your mom's." Carol tipped her head to one side and stared up at him. And it was way up, she thought absently. Really tall, Jack Reilly. Really tall and really gorgeous and really ... cranky. But that was okay. She was sort of getting used to the crabbiness. To the glowering expression and the coolness of his eyes.

And she knew it was because every once in a while, he let that guard down. His lips fought to smile. The

shutters in his eyes creaked open just far enough to show her the warmth waiting inside him. And those small tastes of what he was really like were enough to intrigue her beyond reason.

She took another sip of wine and let the cold, slightly fruity liquid slide down her throat and turn to ice in her stomach. It didn't do a thing toward cooling her off. And really, did she want it to?

"Your mom is really the greatest, you know? I mean, she's so nice and everything and—"

"Yeah," he agreed tightly. "She's great. So what about the baby?"

"Oh, yeah." Her fingers curled tightly around his arm and she swore she felt his muscles quiver under her touch. She gave him a squeeze, then let him go long enough to turn, take three steps toward the stereo, then quickly come back again. Quinn walked with her, his big body ranged alongside her like some overpriced bodyguard. When she stopped again, though, the dog had had enough and lay down in front of the couch, where he could keep a wary eye on both of them.

"It's the best," Carol said. "Just the best. I mean, I didn't think this would happen. Didn't really want to let myself think this would happen, you know?"

She frowned as she tried to make sense of her own jumbled thoughts, crowding together in her mind, each jockeying for position. And as her brain worked, she tried to explain. To him. To herself.

"Because, really," she said, scooping one hand back and through her hair, pushing it away from her face. "If you just let yourself feel, sometimes things get all screwed up in your head and then your heart gets all twisted and before you know it... pow, you get slammed. And you can't figure out what you did to get pounded into the

ground." She shook her head now as memories raced in to fill the gaps between her thoughts. Images of other times when she'd trusted, when she'd taken a chance—only to be emotionally pummeled by whatever fate was willing to take a hand. She blew out a breath, let her smile come flooding back, and told herself that this time it would be different. "But then it happened, so I figured, why not?"