Perfect Fit (35 page)

And Erin had already set it pretty damned high on her own.

SIX WEEKS LATER…

If this case didn’t end soon, Erin would either pass out on the desk in front of the judge, the jury, and the entire courtroom or she’d throw up on her brand-new shoes. It was a toss-up which would happen first. Judge White, whose hair matched his name, droned on with jury instructions, while for Erin, the next twenty minutes passed in a blur of nausea and exhaustion. Finally she heard the blessed sound of the gavel adjourning them for the day, and she dropped her head to the table with a thud.

“Don’t worry, I took notes on everything the judge said and there wasn’t anything we didn’t anticipate or I’d have objected,” Trina Lewis, Erin’s second chair for this trial assured her.

“Thanks,” Erin mumbled into the desk.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here. Bathroom before we go home?”

Erin forced her head up. “Yeah. Please.”

Trina had already gathered Erin’s things and put them into her bag and together they walked out of the courtroom. To her relief, most everyone had already left, so she didn’t need to deal with people.

“Erin, umm, can I talk to you?” Trina asked as she pushed open the door to the ladies’ room and they stepped inside.

“Of course.”

Trina had been working in the D.A.’s office for the last two years, and as the only two female lawyers, she and Erin had become good friends. No professional jealousy or posturing between them, Trina was Erin’s escape from the male posturing when she needed one and visa versa.

Before speaking, Trina checked underneath the stall doors to make sure they were empty. Ever since Lyle Gordon, the lazy bastard who just happened to be the defense attorney on their current case, had posted his paralegal in here to overhear anything that could help him win, Erin and Trina were extra careful about where they spoke and in front of whom.

“All clear,” Trina said.

“What’s up?” Erin turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face.

“Don’t you think this is the longest stomach virus in the history of the world?” Trina ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to Erin.

“It’s getting better,” Erin lied.

“No, it’s not. You’ve been sick for two weeks. So while you were sipping tea in the cafeteria during lunch, I ran out to the pharmacy and bought you this.” She held out a brown paper bag.

Erin narrowed her gaze, cautiously accepting the bag. “What’s in it?” She didn’t wait for Trina to answer, peeking instead. “A pregnancy test?” Erin shrieked before slapping her hand over her own mouth. “Are you kidding me? We’ve been working twenty-four/seven for I don’t know how long. I can’t remember the last time I used my battery-operated friend, never mind had a real man.”

“Liar,” Trina said for the second time.

Erin scowled at her friend. They both knew she remembered the exact last time she’d had a real man. Six and a half
weeks ago and Erin recalled every perfect, muscular inch of Cole Sanders and their night together.

Their
safe
night. He’d used protection each time, and there’d been many. Besides, what were the chances the one and only time she’d stepped outside her comfort zone, something life altering had actually happened? Fate wouldn’t do that to her after all her years as a good girl. Would it?

Erin regretted having shared vague details with Trina, who now stood next to her pointing to the offending test box that every woman on the planet recognized.

“Take it,” Trina ordered.

“I can’t be pregnant.” Erin’s stomach revolted at the very thought and every nerve in her body shouted in denial.

“Good. Then prove me wrong and I’ll take you to the doctor to find out why you’ve been nauseous for two weeks straight.” Trina pinned her with a gaze that had potential defendants shaking and crying for mommy.

“Fine.” Erin grabbed the box and headed for the private stall. Her hands shook so badly she was barely able to read, let alone follow the instructions. But a few minutes later, she and Trina were waiting in uncomfortable silence for the clichéd pink or blue line.

As the second hand of her watch ticked slowly by, Erin thought about Cole. He’d deliberately steered clear of her in the time since their night together. The most contact she’d had with him was a tip of his head before he’d walked out the door of Cuppa Café. Erin would have been more comfortable with a friendly chat to dispel the lingering tension inside her but Cole made it clear that one night meant just that. They weren’t even destined to be friends.

She couldn’t pretend his indifference didn’t hurt and wished he’d leave their small town so he wouldn’t be a permanent reminder of her one step outside the lines.

She
couldn’t
be pregnant and
not
with his baby. She could think of no worse, no more awkward scenario and her stomach lurched at the possibility.

“Ding!” Trina’s too-cheerful voice shook her out of her painful thoughts.

Erin wrapped both arms around herself, aware she was shaking. “You look.”

Trina held out her hand and Erin gratefully accepted her friend’s support. She held her breath, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she could swear she heard the sound in her ears while at this point she couldn’t tell if the lump in her throat was from nausea or panic.

“Well? Erin asked, unable to stand the silence or the suspense any longer.

“It’s positive,” Trina whispered, no longer feigning upbeat excitement.

Erin let out a sound she didn’t recognize and ran for the nearest stall, no longer able to contain the nausea she’d been holding at bay.

Cole woke up to the sun shining through the window
in his small apartment. As he did every morning, he catalogued how he was feeling and today was no different than any other day. He’d had a nightmare that woke him at three
A.M
. and kept him up until the early hours of the morning, and he still felt like shit about his life. Yep, status quo in his world.

He was back home in Serendipity until he figured out what the hell he wanted to do with his life, and he still hadn’t a clue. All Cole knew was that it wasn’t undercover work. He’d lived for the job, knowing he was taking down the scum of the earth, not thinking that in doing so, he was becoming just like them. After the way the last job had ended, he wasn’t so sure—and until he could look himself in the mirror again, he wouldn’t be making any permanent decisions.

Working construction for Nick Mancini, filling in part-time when his old friend had an opening, suited Cole just
fine. Today was a day off, which meant he could head over to his father’s place.

God help him.

Cole and Jed existed in an armed truce, both of them wary and ready for action with the slightest provocation from the other. Cole reminded himself that his father was aging, losing his ability to do the things he liked and that used to come easily, like repairing the loose board on the front porch steps. The old man’s pride prevented him from being grateful his son was now around to help him out. That and the fact that Cole and Jed approached life in very different ways, always had, always would.

Take the career they’d both chosen. Jed started out of high school as a part-time construction worker near Philadelphia, turning to law enforcement after he blamed himself for his younger sister’s death. Jed saw the police force and the rules and regulations he turned to enforcing as a means of coping with the senseless, random acts that life threw a man’s way. Which was why he never understood or accepted Cole’s murky world where rules were shady if nonexistent. He would have preferred his son did his job aboveboard, with a badge. He kept Cole’s secret, but he never approved of his choice and wasn’t proud, even if Cole had been doing good work—for a while, anyway.

And now?

His father had left his fly-by-night construction job, turning to law enforcement as his salvation. So of course, Jed couldn’t accept that while Cole was similarly at loose ends, tormented by his part in an innocent woman’s death, he hadn’t turned to the Serendipity police force and the values Jed held dear. Instead, Cole was doing soul-searching, working part-time until he could get his shit together. If he could. Sometimes Cole thought he was
this
close to losing his sanity.

Needless to say, the two men didn’t see eye to eye. On anything. Jed’s wife of more than ten years normally acted
as a buffer between the two men, but Rachel’s daughter had a new baby and she’d gone to visit for a while. Which meant Cole was on his own when dealing with his father.

He took a hot shower, dressed and headed downstairs. Around the corner from Joe’s Bar was Cuppa Café, owned by Joe’s sister, Trisha, where every morning, Cole picked up his much-needed coffee, ignoring the fact that most people in town gave him a wide berth. Not everyone, since Trisha treated him to a genuine smile for an old friend. Erin had tried to do the same, but Cole had immediately nixed any friendly overtures the first time he’d run into her after they’d slept together.

Erin.

The only good thing about his return home so far. And for that reason he had to stay far away from her, no matter how tempting she was with her good-girl persona, her creamy soft skin, and the combustible chemistry that had taken him off guard. Not to mention the light laughter that warmed his chilled, dark soul.

She might think he was a bastard, and the hurt look on her face when he froze her out made him feel like one, but she didn’t need the aggravation that came with being associated with Cole Sanders.

His father let him know that people in town currently viewed him as an unknown entity, a troublemaker who hadn’t grown up, among other choice words. As if to prove the point, anyone in his father’s generation scowled when he entered their breathing space. And Nick had mentioned a couple of homeowners who’d preferred Cole wasn’t on the crew who worked on their homes. As if he’d steal from anyone, but old neighbors? Friends? Jeez.

Yet Cole had to admit they had their reasons. Considering he’d dropped out of the police academy a few days short of graduation and Mike Marsden, the current police chief and Erin’s brother, had been in his class, Cole’s status was persona non grata. In Mike’s view, Cole had spent the last half
dozen years or so working mob-related jobs, construction included, and had been arrested in a raid last year that led to the takedown of one of the biggest bosses around. He’d done his thing and testified but his identity had been kept quiet. Nobody knew his past, and Cole didn’t care. But a woman like Erin deserved better than to be associated with the man people thought he’d become.

Hell, Cole figured he’d come pretty damned close to being that man so the good folks of Serendipity weren’t far off base in their assessment of him.

Grabbing his drink, he climbed into his old Mustang and headed over to his father’s place. He pulled up in front of the house where he grew up, taking it in with a critical eye. Never mind the loose floorboard, which wasn’t visible to the naked eye, the paint was peeling, the windows needed cleaning, and if they didn’t get the roof fixed by next winter, his father would have his hands full with trouble.

For now, however, he’d focus on the smaller jobs and dealing with his father. Once Rachel came home, he’d try talking to them both about moving into a condo that was smaller, easier to take care of, and where the maintenance was covered. His father had bitten his head off the first time he’d made the suggestion.

He walked up the driveway, surprised to see a sporty royal blue Jeep parked in front of the garage. He knew who owned that car.

Erin.

For as much as he’d tried avoiding her, it appeared he was about to come face-to-face with his one-night stand.

***

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