Judy Duarte: Christmas Baby: A Baby Under the Tree / A Baby For Christmas / Her Christmas Hero

Shane had never been one to kiss and tell. He supposed he could say that he’d met a woman and leave it at that, which would have pleased Jack and the rest of the family no end. But meeting a woman implied that he’d found her promising enough to keep seeing her, which wasn’t exactly the case.

Yet Jack didn’t need to know any of that. The only way to keep him in the dark was to stretch the truth, which wasn’t the same as lying, but still went against Shane’s grain. “Let’s just say that I met an old friend, and the time just slipped away.”

“A female friend.”

Shane couldn’t blame Jack for hoping that Shane had met someone special, but that hadn’t happened.

“Who is she?” Jack asked, connecting the dots.

But Shane didn’t want to go into it—any of it. Jillian had been more than a one-night stand. She’d been a one-night memory, and he wasn’t about to share the details with anyone.

“It wasn’t a woman,” Shane lied. “I met up with an old friend, a guy I used to work with.”

The first stretch of the truth had seemed necessary, but the actual lie gnawed at his conscience. Shane had always been straight up with his family and the people he cared about. But there really hadn’t been another way around it if he wanted to maintain his privacy and keep the details from becoming Facebook fodder for the Hollisters, who were into that sort of thing.

Shane set aside his boots, then crossed the living room to the kitchen area.

“Well, you still ought to call home once in a while and let us know you’re still alive and kicking. Hell, you could be laying in a morgue as a John Doe for all we know.”

This was Jack speaking? The same brother who’d gone off to college and hadn’t called home until their parents had complained to the Dean of Students?

“You’re going to have to start over,” Shane said. “What’s the real problem here?”

“Hell, Shane. I know you’re busy. But Mom’s been worried about you. She hasn’t seen you in months or heard from you in weeks.”

Shane, who’d just reached for a glass in the kitchen cupboard, paused for a beat—long enough to flinch from a jab of guilt. Then he released a wobbly sigh. “I didn’t realize it had been so long, Jack. Tell her I’m fine and not to worry about me. Riding herd is a lot easier—and safer—than chasing the bad guys in Houston.”

“Tell her yourself. She’s been lighting candles and going to mass all week. Under the circumstances, what with knowing how much you liked being a cop, she’s stressing about your mental health.”

Shane tensed. Sylvia Dominguez, his former partner, had been a little worried about the same thing—at least for a while. And he couldn’t really blame her or his family for being concerned. He’d gone a little crazy a while back, after he’d been put on suspended duty for letting his heart, his grief and his temper get away from him. But after a sobering confrontation with his dad, he realized what he was doing to himself. So he stopped closing down bars and started facing his demons instead.

Facing them?

Yeah, right. That’s why his old life was in Houston and he was living in a cramped studio apartment more than two hours away. It was also why it took forever to fall asleep at night.

Of course, the insomnia might be a thing of the past now that he had thoughts of pretty Jillian to chase away the nocturnal shadows that kept the sandman at bay.

He wondered how long that was going to last.

A lot longer than their short time together, he hoped.

“Did you hear me?” Jack asked.

“Yeah.” And he’d already forgotten what they’d been talking about. “I’m just a little scattered tonight. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, but Mom’s another story.”

“Tell her that my mental health is fine,” Shane said. “It’s amazing what a change of scenery will do.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But don’t be a stranger.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to check in more often.”

Jack paused a beat, then added, “If you ever need anyone to talk to, you know I’m here for you.”

This particular brother was a good listener, as well as a peacemaker. So in the Hollister family, that made him invaluable.

“You never should have let Cindy talk you out of the priesthood,” Shane said. “You would have made a good one.”

Jack laughed. “Maybe so. But give Mom a call, will you?”

Shane glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s nearly nine o’clock on a Thursday night. She’s probably down at the parish playing bingo.”

“You don’t need to call tonight. But after that mess with Internal Affairs and your leave of absence, she’s been stressing something awful. You know how it is.”

Yeah, he did. And he hadn’t meant to cause her any more grief. He’d put the family through enough already, which had been another good reason to leave Houston.

Hoping to change the subject, he asked, “How’s everyone else doing?”

“Good, for the most part. Colleen’s on the dean’s list at Baylor again. Stevie left for the police academy yesterday. And Mary-Lynn’s expecting again.”

“Is Dad doing all right?”

“Yeah, but he’d like to hear from you, too.”

“I’ll call home in the morning.”

After disconnecting the line and putting the receiver back in the charger, Shane plunked a couple of ice cubes into his glass, filled it full of tap water and took a nice, long swig.

Any other night, he might have been tempted to fix himself a real drink, but memories of Jillian were still too fresh in his mind. And despite their time together being purposefully short, it was also the kind of memory that was worthy of keeping…sacred in a way. And Shane wasn’t about to lessen or cheapen it.

Those magical hours spent in her bed had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience, one he’d been reluctant to end.

As dawn had threatened to break over Houston, he’d drawn her close to his chest and savored the fragrance of her shampoo, the faint floral whiff of her perfume.

She’d slept with her bottom nestled in his lap, and he’d felt himself stirring, rising to the occasion—again. But even if they hadn’t gone through the only condom they’d had during the night, time hadn’t been on his side.

As he’d glanced through an opening in the heavy curtains and seen the night fading into dawn, he’d carefully slid his arm from under her head, trying his best not to wake her. Because a cowboy didn’t call in sick, especially if the only excuse he had was a beautiful woman in his bed. So he’d snatched his wrinkled shirt and jeans from the floor.

He’d found himself dragging his feet, not wanting to go, not ready to end what they’d shared.

Why had it felt as though they’d created some kind of invisible bond, some reason for him to linger?

Probably because their lovemaking had been so good. That had to be it.

Besides, Shane wasn’t ready for a relationship. And he wasn’t sure if he ever would be again.

So he’d quickly gotten dressed, wishing he could think of a better way to say goodbye. But he hadn’t been able to come up with anything that wouldn’t have created some kind of promise he couldn’t keep. And that wouldn’t have been fair to her.

Not that he didn’t want to see her again. But they had very little in common, and their lives were headed in different directions.

His only regret had been slipping out of her bed at nearly five in the morning and leaving a note, which might have cheapened the whole thing.

Last night was amazing, he’d written. You were a gift I didn’t deserve, and one I’ll always cherish.

And while he’d struggled to choose the right words, he’d meant every one of them.