Metsy Hingle - Dad In Demand

“Go to hell,” Sean told him. “I’ve got work to do.” Whirling around, he stomped out of Michael’s office and headed for his own.

Ten minutes later Sean studied the information he had gathered on an investigation he was working that involved a child kidnapping. As he studied a picture of the mother and daughter, images of Katie sneaked into his thoughts. Katie telling him she wanted a baby, that she planned to get pregnant. Katie with her face flushed, her lips swollen, those whisky-colored eyes of hers filled with yearning and need. The kiss yesterday had been a fluke, Sean told himself again. He wanted, needed, desperately to believe that—for his sake and Katie’s.

The intercom buzzed. “Heather Harrison is on line three.”

He grabbed the phone, eager to chase these crazy thoughts about Katie from his mind. “Heather, darling,” he said, crooking the phone between his shoulder and ear. For the next few minutes he listened to the shapely blonde he’d lusted after for the past three months. But when he hung up the phone with a promise to get back to her later, it wasn’t the voluptuous blonde with the sexy blue eyes whose face kept stealing into his thoughts. It was a skinny redhead with vulnerable, whisky-colored eyes.

That same skinny redhead was still in his thoughts that evening when Sean heard the knock at his door. “Door’s open,” he called out from the back deck where he’d set up the grill for barbecuing. Once he’d called and apologized to Katie for overreacting the previous night, he’d spent the better part of the day trying to make sense out of his sudden and unwise attraction to her. He’d come to the same conclusion each time. The kiss and his reaction to Katie had been a fluke. Having her over for a belated birthday dinner would prove it to himself and to her.

So much for his fluke theory, Sean decided when he glanced up and spotted Katie standing in the doorway. His senses went on full alert, like a fox scenting prey. The “friends only” mantra he’d been practicing all afternoon bit the dust the moment he saw her. Wearing a pink top tied beneath her small breasts and white cutoffs, she was not dressed to inspire lust. But one look at those Rockette legs, with the tips of her toes painted the same shade of pink as her worrisome mouth, and he was in trouble. The fact that she was looking at him—as if she’d just as soon skip dinner and have him for dessert—had his blood pressure hiking up, right along with another part of his anatomy. How in the devil was he supposed to think of Katie as his pal when his blasted hormones kept ambushing him?

She walked over to him—no sauntering, no slow swaying of her hips to entice—just a graceful, fluid stride that was all the more enticing because it wasn’t meant to be.

“Hi.” As always, she gave him a quick smack on the lips in greeting as though she didn’t even remember that yesterday those same lips had rubbed against his, opened and tasted him like a welcoming lover. The friendly kiss was over in an instant, but it had been long enough for him to catch the scent of her perfume. Since when had the scent of honeysuckle become such an aphrodisiac?

“I wasn’t sure what you were serving, so I brought red and white,” she said, indicating the bottles of wine in her hands.

Sean wrapped his fists around the wine to keep himself from reaching for her. He checked out the labels. “Hey, these are both good. Your taste in wine is improving, Malloy.”

“Gee. You have such a way with compliments, Fitzpatrick. If a girl isn’t careful, you’ll just turn her head.”

Sean chuckled as he was meant to do, and the tension in him eased a notch. “We’re having steaks. So, I’ll open the red and let it breathe. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

“Need any help?”

“Are you kidding? You think I’d let you come near my kitchen again? It took me a week to rid the place of the stench of burned pasta.” At her scowl, he laughed. “Go ahead, kick your feet back and relax. I’ve got everything under control.”

And he did have everything under control, Sean told himself, as he poured more wine into their glasses. Claiming the chair opposite the old-fashioned porch swing where Katie sat, he congratulated himself. Everything had gone like clockwork—right down to the antique music box he’d given her as a gift.

It had been just like old times—comfortable, enjoyable. So what if he couldn’t help noticing how soft her skin looked in the moonlight? Or the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed?

She looked up at him over the lid of the music box. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered in that throaty whisper that sparked visions of her lying on satin sheets. Quickly, ruthlessly, he deep-sixed the dangerous image.

“I’m sorry it’s late,” he told her.

“Don’t be silly. You were out of town for my birthday. I know that. And you really didn’t have to buy me anything. I got the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers from all the Fitzpatricks.”

Sean shrugged, his gaze riveted to the fingers lazily stroking the silver latch on the music box. “The flowers were from my family,” he said dragging his eyes up to her face. “I wanted to give you something from me.”

“I…thank you.”

The friendly sass that had been in her eyes all evening gave way to a soft yearning that made his blood heat. Desire, tucked safely away throughout dinner, sneaked out, tempting him. Sean tightened his grip on the glass in his hand and stood. “How about some more wine?”

“No, thanks,” Katie told him, and carefully placed the music box on the table amid the nest of wrappings. Then she stood and went to him. Reaching out, she stroked his cheek. “Thank you, Sean,” she whispered, then pressed her mouth to his. It was a simple kiss, over almost before it began, but it sent desire shooting through him like heat lightning. “I’ll treasure it always.”

She backed away, retreating until she came up against the swing and sat down. Not until she’d pushed off on her back foot and set the swing to swaying was he finally able to untangle his tongue.

The silence stretched between them for several awkward moments, then Katie cut him a narrow-eyed glance. “You know, Fitzpatrick, it just occurred to me that this dinner and that music box might actually be a bribe.”

“A bribe, huh?” he said, welcoming the teasing and the break in tension that came with it. “And just what would I be bribing you for, Malloy?”

“Well, knowing what a sneaky man you are, maybe you thought that if you plied me with a great dinner, let me stuff myself with that sinful cake and gave me such a fabulous gift, that maybe I’d let you off the hook about doing the investigations for me like you promised.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

“That’s good. Because I’m not letting you off the hook, pal.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t sustain the light humor. “Katie, about this baby business—”

“Tonight when you lit the candles on the cake and told me to make a wish, do you know what I wished for? I wished that by this time next year, I’d have a baby. I know you don’t agree with this, Sean, but as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted that package. You know—husband, wife, babies—a family. A psychologist would probably say it’s because I didn’t have the family I wanted as a child with my parents divorcing, my stepfather cutting out on us and stuff. And they’d probably be right. But I always knew that someday I would have a family like…well, like yours.”

She tore at the napkin in her fingers. “Well, it hasn’t happened, and it isn’t going to—at least not the husband part of it. But I still want the babies, Sean. Sometimes I think it was because I wanted to have children so much that I talked myself into thinking I was in love and getting engaged twice. I think I wanted to get married so I could become a mother.”