A Baby Under the Tree (3 page)

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 part
ner, 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.

He supposed he could try to find her again. His detective skills and his connections wouldn't make it too hard. But Jillian wasn't the kind of woman who'd fit into Shane's life, whether it was in Houston or Brighton Valley.

He'd already gone through one star-crossed relationship that he shouldn't have let get off the ground, and he'd lost his son because of it.

No, he'd just have to let well enough alone. After all, if something between them was meant to be, then he'd run into her again. No need for him to chase after something that was sure to crash and burn.

But that didn't mean he wasn't sorely tempted to look her up in Houston. He'd love to spend one more night together.

They might end the evening in a blaze of glory, but what a way to go…?.

I
n spite of knowing their time together had been a one-shot deal, Shane hadn't been able to get Jillian out of his mind.

Several times he'd actually thought seriously about looking her up in Houston. She hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he still had a few contacts at the police department who'd be able to help him out. Yet when push came to shove, he'd decided to let well enough alone.

That is, until he was urged to attend his niece's first communion in Houston on Sunday morning. After he'd missed Billy's birthday party a while back and created such a stir within the family, he'd decided to make a showing this time, even though he'd rather be anywhere than in a church on Sunday morning, especially if it required a confession.

It's not that he had some huge sin hanging over his head, but he wasn't ready to make things right with God when he still blamed the Big Guy Upstairs for allowing Joey to die. But he supposed he'd deal with that tomorrow morning.

Right now, he was headed to the city a day early, determined to see Jillian while he was there. Through his connections, he'd gotten her address just minutes ago: 237 Bluebonnet Court, apartment 16.

It had been exactly six weeks and a day since they'd met that magical evening in Houston, but the memory was still as strong and vivid as if it had only been yesterday.

After they'd split the bill that evening, Shane had insisted on being the one to leave a generous tip for the wait staff. Then he'd walked with her to The Rio, the hotel lounge that provided music and high-priced drinks to some of Houston's more exclusive crowd.

Shane wasn't used to hanging out at places like that, and he knew he'd been underdressed, but he'd been with Jillian, who belonged to that world.

“The music sounds good,” she'd said.

At that point, being with her would make anything sound good. But she'd been right. The band was great.

As they'd made their way toward an empty table near the dance floor, Shane had placed his hand on the small of her back, claiming her in front of all the rich, fancy folks who'd gathered for an after-dinner drink.

She'd leaned against him and slid her arm around his waist in a move that seemed so natural, so right, that he wanted to hang on tight and never let go.

Then the music, something soft and slow, began to play and he hadn't been able to do anything other than to pull her into his embrace and dance cheek to cheek. As they'd swayed to a love song, as he'd inhaled her tropical scent, she'd melded into him as though they'd been made to dance with each other for the rest of their lives.

Something powerful had surged between them, something hot, soul stirring and arousing.

He'd taken her hand and brushed his lips across her wrist. As she'd looked at him, her lips parting, she'd gripped his shoulder as though her knees would have buckled if she hadn't.

And that's when he'd kissed her. Right there in the middle of that crowded dance floor.

As their lips parted, his tongue had sought hers, and they were swept away to some carnal place, where the music stopped and the room grew silent. At least, he could have sworn it had happened that way.

For a moment, he'd forgotten where they were,
who
they were. All he'd been aware of was a raging desire that promised to bring about something he'd never experienced before.

Then the music really did stop, and he'd come to his senses, albeit reluctantly. As he broke the kiss, he'd continued to hold Jillian tight, and with his lips resting near her temple, he'd confessed, “I don't normally do things like this.”

“Neither do I.”

As they'd slowly stepped apart, she'd closed her eyes
and, after taking a deep breath, said, “I…uh…have a room upstairs.”

Shane hadn't been sure he'd heard right or if he'd somehow come to the wrong conclusion, so he'd waited a beat, hoping she'd spell it out for him. Then she did just that by taking his hand and leading him out of The Rio and to the elevators.

As the memory rolled on, just as it did each time a specific clip from that night began to play in his mind, he tried his best to shake it off. But damn. What an amazing evening that had been.

If truth be told, he'd been more than a little sorry that it had ended before he'd gotten a chance to see if a long-distance relationship between two people with nothing in common but great sex could actually work.

Now, as he gripped the steering wheel of his pickup and watched the street signs for Bluebonnet Court, the heated memory still remained front and center in his mind.

Of course, seeing her again didn't mean he was interested in starting a relationship. It was just a matter of satisfying his curiosity.

Would Jillian be glad to see him? Had she, too, found it impossible to forget all they'd shared that night?

Shane certainly hoped so. He'd just have to take things one step at a time.

As he turned and drove down the tree-lined street and approached a modest apartment complex, he wondered if the address he'd found for her was wrong. Jillian had been dressed to the nines and sporting diamonds when they'd met, and this neighborhood didn't
seem like the part of town that would suit her taste or her designer pocketbook.

But there was only one way to find out.

He parked his truck in one of the spaces available for guests, then made his way to Jillian's apartment, hoping she was home.

And that she'd be glad to see him.

 

When the doorbell sounded, Jillian had been sitting on the sofa, reading over her college schedule. She hadn't been expecting company, and since she hadn't found time to meet any of the neighbors, she wasn't sure who it could be.

She had a feeling it might be her grandmother, though. Ever since Jillian had moved into the apartment, Gram had been stopping by with one surprise or another, such as kitchen gadgets, household necessities and decorator items.

Yesterday, she'd brought a framed watercolor print that she'd picked up at a garage sale, which was now hanging on the living room wall. That particular piece of art was a far cry from the expensive paintings and sculptures that had adorned the various homes Jillian had once shared with Thomas, but it reflected her new, simple lifestyle.

During the course of her marriage, Jillian had tried so hard to do everything Thomas and his family had expected her to do that she'd almost forgotten who she really was. So she was determined to reclaim herself and become the woman she should have been before Thomas Wilkes had come along. And creating a home
for herself, decorated to her own taste and comfort, was part of the process.

Expecting to see Gram with another surprise in her arms, Jillian swung open the door with a smile. But when she spotted Shane Hollister, the smile faded and surprise took its place.

The cowboy was just as handsome as she remembered, maybe more so. And his smile, which was both boyish and shy, sent her senses reeling.

“I would have called first, but I didn't have your number.” He lifted the brim of his hat with an index finger.

He hadn't had her address, either, but she was so stunned to see him again, so mesmerized by his familiar, musky scent, that she couldn't seem to find the words to respond or to question him.

But her gaze was hard at work, checking him out and soaking him in. He'd shaved, which had softened his rugged edge a bit, but he still wore a Stetson, jeans and boots—clearly a cowboy through and through.

“If this isn't a good time,” he said, those luscious brown eyes glimmering as he broke the silence, “I can come back another day.”

“No, it's not that.” She stepped aside to let him in. “It's just that I…”

“…didn't expect to see me again?” He tossed her a crooked grin that darn near turned her inside out.

She managed a smile of her own. “How'd you find me? I didn't even have an address to give you when we met.”

“It's amazing what a person can learn over the internet.”

Jillian wasn't sure if she should be happy he'd found her or concerned by it. After all, she didn't know very much about him, other than the fact that he hadn't always been a cowboy, and that he was divorced.

And that he'd claimed to be a tumbleweed, while they'd had dinner that night, which was a little worrisome. If he was indeed prone to wander and not set down roots, he wouldn't be the kind of father she wanted for her baby. That alone had seemed like the perfect excuse not to contact him so far.

Not that she'd made a solid decision yet. She would need to know more about him before she could allow him to be involved in the baby's upbringing.

And as luck would have it, here was her chance. So she swept her arm toward the brown tweed sofa that had once been in Gram's den and the faux leather recliner that had belonged to her grandfather. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” He placed his hat on one side of the sofa, then sat on the middle cushion. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

Just her conscience and her good sense.

“No, not really.” She combed her fingers through her hair, suddenly wondering what she looked like without any makeup, without having used a brush since this morning.

“I have a family function in Houston,” he said, “so, while I was in the area, I thought I'd stop by and say
hello. I also thought it might be nice to have dinner together.”

The last time they'd shared a meal, she'd invited him to spend the night. Was he expecting the same thing to happen again?

She could certainly see where he might. When they'd danced in each other's arms at The Rio, the sexual attraction had ignited. She'd never had a one-night stand before, so she'd struggled with her conscience before inviting him up to her room. But only momentarily.

Once she'd had that sweet experience, she hadn't been sorry about it, either. Shane had been an incredible lover who'd done amazing things with his hands and his mouth, taking her places she'd never gone before. Ever.

If truth be told, she was sorely tempted to have him take her there again.

But look where sexual attraction and throwing caution to the wind had gotten her—pregnant with the cowboy's baby.

“What do you say?” he asked, clearly picking up on how torn she was between a yes or a no.

Getting involved with him again would certainly complicate her life, so she was tempted to decline and send him on his way. But what did she know about the man who'd fathered her baby? And what was she supposed to tell her child when he or she inevitably asked the daddy questions?

“We really don't have much in common,” she admitted. Nothing other than a baby, of course.

“Well, we don't know that for sure. We never really had a chance to talk much that night.”

He was right about that. Even though they'd known each other's bodies intimately, the rugged cowboy was pretty much a stranger to her—as she was to him.

But he'd also put her healing process on the fast track and had made her feel desirable again.

So did that make them friendly strangers?

Or strangers with benefits…?

Jillian fiddled momentarily with the silver pendant that dangled from her necklace, then made the decision. “All right. Let me freshen up and change my clothes.”

His smile nearly took her breath away, as he leaned back in his seat. “No problem. Take your time.”

Thirty minutes later, she and Shane entered a little Italian restaurant he'd recommended. She'd chosen to dress casually in black jeans and a pale blue sweater.

At least on the outside, she and Shane appeared to be a better match than they had before, but for some reason she felt like a late-blooming high school senior about to enter the adult world for the first time.

“This place isn't as nice as the hotel restaurant,” Shane said, “but the food is out of this world.”

Jillian took a hearty whiff of tomatoes and basil, not doubting Shane about the taste. “It sure smells good.”

After the hostess seated them at a quiet table for two, a busboy brought them water with lemon and a basket of freshly baked bread.

“So what do you do for a living?” Shane asked.

Jillian had planned to be the first one to start asking questions, but she supposed they both had a lot to learn
about each other. “Right now, I'm planning to go back to school, but I'll be looking for part-time work soon.”

“What kind of job did you have before?”

She hated to admit that she'd never worked, even though she'd kept pretty busy. But she doubted that he'd care about her philanthropic endeavors—the hospital board on which she'd served or the women's club, of which she'd been the chair. She was proud of her contributions, of course, but her heart hadn't been in the projects that had been hand chosen by Thomas—or rather, by his mother. The trouble was, until recently, her volunteerism had been her life, her work. Her only legitimate purpose in the world.

For some reason, she felt as though she ought to apologize or make excuses while explaining that she had high hopes for the future. “I didn't have a regular job, but I did volunteer work for several charitable organizations over the past few years.”

He seemed to mull that over for a moment, then reached for the bread basket, pulled back the linen cloth that kept it warm and offered her the first slice, which she took.

“So you're going to take some college classes?” he asked.

“I'm getting a teaching credential.”

“Oh, yeah? You must like kids.”

“I do.”

“But, if I remember correctly, you don't have any of your own.”

It wasn't actually a question, just a conclusion he'd
obviously come to after something she must have told him. She supposed there was no real reason to respond.

If truth be told, she'd always longed to have a baby—at least two or three. But she and Thomas had never been able to conceive—at least, not together.