Karen Rose - Count to Ten

Reed hung up, a scowl furrowing his forehead. What would he do with Beth when Lauren flew the nest? He did know he wasn't going to get married just to get a live-in nanny-slash-maid. He'd had a good marriage once. There was no way in hell he'd make do with anything less. He let his mind drift as he tailed Mia Mitchell's car, remembering Christine. She'd been the perfect wife. Beautiful, smart, sexy. He sighed. Yes, sexy. He had to stop letting his mind drift, because it kept drifting to sex.

But it was hard to control his mind when he was this tired, much less his body. He could remember everything so vividly. Just how she'd looked, how it had felt to make love to her in the quiet of the night. Touching her skin, her hair. The way she whispered his name when she was so close, begging him to take her to the sun. And how it had felt when she came, taking him with her. But most of nil, he remembered the amazing peace he'd felt afterward, holding her spooned against him.

Stop . Something was wrong with that fantasy. Different. Reed blinked hard, bringing all the taillights in his path back into focus. Whoa . Troubled, he blinked again, but the picture in his mind was unchanged. The woman in his mental wanderings wasn't tall and dark with the lithe body of a dancer. The woman in his mind was blond. Her body strong and compact. Her breasts… her legs… different. Her eyes weren't dark and mysterious. They were wide and blue like the summer sky.

Hell . The woman he'd been making love to in his mind hadn't been Christine. It had been Mia Mitchell. Restlessly he shifted, the picture of Mitchell still stubbornly filling his mind. Naked and waiting for him. And now that he'd seen her like that, even if it was only in his mind, it was going to be damned difficult to see her any other way.

"Well, that's just perfect," he muttered. Making love to a memory was safe. Dreaming about a real live woman was way too dangerous. So he'd push the very thought from his mind. This he could do. This he'd done before. This was discipline.

Four cars ahead, Mia was signaling her merge onto the interstate, going south. If he had a brain in his head he'd drive right on past the merge ramp, turn around at the next intersection and go home. But he didn't. For some reason he didn't try to fathom, he followed, wondering where she would take them.

Tuesday, November 28, 7:00 p.m.

He slid the vase full of flowers on the hotel's counter. "Delivery, ma'am."

A small woman stood behind the counter, typing. Her name tag said //smc tania and below it in smaller letters, //smc assistant manager. Around her neck she wore a photo ID and clipped behind it, a key card. He'd bet it was a master key. And he needed one of those.

She looked up with a tired smile. "I'll be with you in just a minute."

He yawned, then pushed the dark glasses up on his nose. They were just ten-dollar reading glasses, but they altered his looks. Combined with the long wig he'd picked up cheap, the difference would be enough to fool the security camera. "Take your time."

"You're working late," she said sympathetically.

His yawn had been no fake. He'd had a couple very late nights recently. "Got a few last minute orders. But this is my last delivery tonight. I get to go home."

Her smile was rueful. "Lucky you."

He let her type another thirty seconds. "The roads are really slick, so be careful when you drive home. They're calling for more snow tonight."

"Thanks, but I'm not going home any time soon. I'm here all night."

He grimaced. "All night? Jeez." All night? Damn . He wanted her key.

She shrugged as she typed efficiently. "I have two people out with the flu, so I'm pulling a double. Don't get off till seven tomorrow morning." She finished typing and turned, giving him her full attention. "Oh, what pretty flowers."

They should be. They cost him fifty bucks. "They go to…" He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "Dougherty. Can you confirm I've got the right place?"

"You do," she said. "The Doughertys are guests."

"They'll get delivered tonight?"

"I'll deliver them myself as soon as I can step away."

Tuesday, November 28, 8:15 p.m.

After twelve years Mia should have been used to watching her little sister walk across the visitation area in a prison uniform. Kelsey dropped into the chair, waiting.

Mia picked up the phone on her side of the Plexiglas and after a moment's hesitation, Kelsey did the same. "He's buried," Mia said and Kelsey's lips quirked up.

"I should hope so. He'd be pretty ripe by now."

Mia's own mouth curved sadly. "I wish you'd been there."

"Dana was there for you."

"Yeah. She was and I'm grateful for it. But I needed you."

Kelsey's eyes flickered. "I would have been there for you. Not for him."

It was understandable. "I know."

"Why are you here, M?" It was always "M." Never "Mia." Kelsey took pains to keep herself removed in case somebody inside recognized Mia for the cop she was. Fortunately there was no family resemblance to link them. Kelsey looked like their mother, while Mia was the image of Bobby Mitchell. He'd been a blond charmer in his younger days, blinking those blue eyes to look sincere when the occasion called for it. Mia had always suspected he'd been a ladies' man. Now she knew for sure.

"Something happened you need to know about. When I got to the cemetery the day of Bobby's funeral…" She could see the small headstone in her mind. It had been a cold shock. One more betrayal to add to all those that had come before. "The plot next to him had already been taken."

Kelsey tilted her head back, her eyes narrowing. "By good old Liam."

Mia's mouth dropped open. Finally she found her voice. "You knew ?"

Kelsey's brows lifted, her eyes cool. "You didn't? Interesting."

" How did you know?"

"Found a picture in a box in his closet when I was looking for money once. Cute kid, sitting in our chair. The 'true heir' to the kingdom."

Mia was floored. "I found the box when I was going through his suits for the funeral home. I didn't open it until I got home from the cemetery. I saw Liam's name on the gravestone on the plot next to Bobby's when I got to the cemetery for the burial. Until that moment, I had no idea Liam even existed." Liam Charles Mitchell, Beloved Son .

A shadow passed over Kelsey's face. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have wanted you to find out that way. I really thought you knew. So what did she do?"

" She" was their mother. "At the cemetery? She zoned out." Later, she'd talked. Mia hadn't been patient with her mother. It would be a long time before the two of them spoke cordially again. That should bother me more than it does . "He was born when I was ten months old. He died a year later. I checked Liam's birth certificate. It said his mother was a Bridget Condon."

"I know."

Mia blinked. "Bobby told you?"

Kelsey lifted a shoulder. "I waited till he was drunk one day and asked him."

Mia closed her eyes. "Which time was that?"

"Just before Christmas when I was thirteen."

Mia remembered. "You had to get six stitches in your lip."

"And she told the hospital I'd fallen off my skateboard."

It was their mother's way. Juggle emergency rooms, juggle the lies. Anything to keep the secret. "Hell, Kelsey."

"It's done, M. He's in his own private hell now."

"He gave the baby his name." It had been bothering Mia for three weeks.

"He'd moved in with Bridget. He was going to marry the mother of his son."

"He was going to leave us because Bridget had a son. And Annabelle didn't."

"And he came back after the baby died."

"Yeah. I know. Annabelle told me that much." After Mia had confronted her after the funeral, in the privacy of her mother's house. "And Annabelle took him back."