Alias: Daddy Read online

  In fact, he had an odd sense they were not in any danger. Here. Too much security in the airport. But what if they ventured out into the streets of New Jersey? How vulnerable then? He shifted back to Green. “What do they need us for?”

  Green shrugged. “The detective in charge said you might have an angle on how this guy operates. I think he wanted your take on this note. What it means—that stuff about Muldoon’s house.”

  “You can tell the detective that this psycho blew up my house last night. That’s what it means. It means the guy’s dangerously crazy.” Kerrie spoke with all the anger she’d been stuffing down. “And he has nothing to lose.”

  Roman added, “He wants to kill Detective Muldoon and me and he’s not going to stop until he does. Or until he’s caught. I’d suggest they call in the bomb squad to comb that warehouse.”

  “This means you’re not coming back with me to Jersey City?”

  “No, we’re not” Roman’s gaze collided with Kerrie’s and he could see she concurred with this decision. He stepped protectively closer to her. “That’s exactly what Loverboy wants. That’s why it’s exactly what we’re not going to do.”

  He wasn’t about to walk into a trap. Not with Kerrie. He gazed down at her and his pulse tripped There were two little girls counting on him to keep their mommy safe.

  Two little girls he intended to see grow up.

  “Seems like you wasted a trip,” Green said, seeming unsure what course he should take now that his plans had gone awry the second time in one day. “Are you heading back to Seattle, then?”

  “Soon as we can exchange our tickets.” Roman gave him a lopsided smile. “Be careful, Chuck. Call me when you know something more.”

  Green agreed. “The minute there’s something new to report.”

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Kerrie snapped, “Green’s right. This was a wasted trip. He’s got us running all over the country, playing ‘catch me if you can.’ Cage. God, I can’t believe it. How could I have been so wrong about him?”

  The question was rhetorical, but Roman couldn’t bear the pain emanating from her eyes. “Look—I’ve got an idea. If you don’t want to fly straight back to Seattle, we could take a side trip to Virginia.”

  He was rewarded with a wobbly smile. “Can we? Is it safe?”

  It was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms and kiss that glorious mouth of hers. “Absolutely. Our nemesis doesn’t know where we are.”

  They exchanged their tickets for a flight to Dulles International that would depart in two hours. Kerrie suggested he call the Waring farm so they’d be expected, then excused herself for a trip to the ladies room. When she returned, she asked if he’d made the call. Roman assured her he had, but it was a lie. Without exception, Philip Waring retired every night by ten. It was after eleven. All a call at this hour would have done was disrupt security and alarm Philip, who would in turn alarm Glynna.

  Their visit would take place tomorrow. He’d deal with where they were spending the night when they arrived in Virginia. God knew how Kerrie would react if he told her now.

  AS THE PLANE SET DOWN at Dulles, Roman said, “Middleburg is about thirty-five minutes away.”

  Kerrie’s heart seemed too full. She would soon be seeing her children. Granted they would be asleep, but at least she could kiss their chubby cheeks and caress their beautiful heads. Roman hired a taxi and they settled back on the lumpy seat as soon as he’d stated their destination. Kerrie could see little besides neon signs and streetlights. The ride ended not thirty-five, but ten minutes later.

  Puzzled, she glanced outside. The taxi was parked beside a two-story, town house. Definitely not in the driveway of a lavish horse farm. “Where are we?”

  “Centreville, Virginia, ma’am,” the cabdriver told her.

  As soon at the taxi left, she asked Roman, “Why are we in Centreville instead of Middleburg?”

  “This is my place.”

  “Your.?” After years of wondering about him. Where he was, where he lived, now, without warning, she was standing outside his house—about to go inside. In rapid succession, anxiety, trepidation, curiosity and anticipation whipped through her. But why were they here? “You wanted to get your own car?”

  “Not exactly.” He dipped his head toward hers, the porch light spilling over him, making his eyes seem more golden than usual. His expression grew sheepish as he admitted his lie and told her why he hadn’t called Philip.

  She glared at him. “You couldn’t simply have told me this? Donnello, I don’t like being treated like a porcelain doll. Or being lied to.”

  “I don’t like being lied to, either, Irish, and I think we should discuss that Preferably inside.” He deactivated his alarm, unlocked the door and shoved it open. “Are you coming in?”

  She hesitated, not because she feared the conversation he’d proposed, but because she feared Loverboy. Would he do to this residence what he’d done to hers? “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  Roman’s raven brows twitched. But he seemed to understand what held her back. He grinned wryly. “If Casale wanted to kill me here, he would have done it long ago. No, as far as he knows, as far as Cage knows, we’re either in New Jersey or Seattle, but I’ll check for bombs if it will make you feel better.”

  “It will.” She stood her ground, fighting worry for Roman and feeling foolish and vulnerable. She stepped into the house and shut the door. Finding herself in a compact entry with black and gold tile, she moved ahead, striding onto the gold carpet of a spacious combination kitchen/ living room.

  A reflection of the man who lived here, it was furnished in blacks and golds, soft leathers and hard edges, very masculine, very sensuous, very inviting. Very much a bachelor pad. She felt a nudge of jealousy.

  She could hear him upstairs rummaging through closets and cupboards. She drew in an unsteady breath and realized the room held his scent, mingled with a light touch of lemon oil. Obviously someone kept the place dust free.

  Was that someone young and pretty? Someone he was involved with? The nudge of jealousy became a stab. How could she know him so well and yet know so few details of his life? Did it mean a person’s past was only important in as much as it shaped the person they were today?

  On the mantel a brass-framed photograph caught her eye, and she strode across the room and picked it up. It was of Roman and two other people, a man whose dark hair was graying at the temples and an auburn-haired woman in her early twenties whom Kerrie recognized as Wendy Waring.

  Her heart felt suddenly heavy, suddenly sad. She set the photo down and feathered a finger over the top edge of the frame.

  “THERE ARE NO INCENDIARY devices anywhere,” Roman said as he came back into the room. She stood with her back to him, but from the slump of her shoulders he knew something was amiss. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “How am I going to tell Mom about the house?” Her voice wobbled.

  His heart ached for her. His body longed for her. But she’d kept him at arm’s length all day. He doubted she’d appreciate his-affection when she was feeling so vulnerable. Hell, he had to do something. Say something. A dozen reassurances sprang to mind, but she wouldn’t believe them. He could imagine how she was feeling, but he couldn’t empathize. All he could do was remind her that she hadn’t lost what mattered most “You’ll find the words.”

  “Will I?” She faced him. Unshed tears stood in her emerald eyes. “You were wrong, you know, about everything in my house being replaceable. How do I replace all the photos of the girls when they were babies? The photos of my dad? How will Mom replace every item she garnered in her life with him? How do we replace all our memories?”

  “You haven’t lost your memories, Irish.” He gave in to his urges, closed the gap between them and pulled her into his arms. Her body trembled within his embrace. “Just the mementos of your memories.”

  She lifted her head. He gazed into her luminous emerald eyes and was instantly lost. It was so natural to kiss her, he
couldn’t help himself. Kerrie responded, kissing him back with ardor, with abandon, and like a wildfire, desire exploded between them.

  Kerrie moaned, then struggled free and out-of his arms. “No, I can’t do this right now.”

  “Why, Irish?” He loomed over her, challenging her. So help him, she’d lied about this for the last time. “Because when we’re together it isn’t just mindless sex? Because that’s the biggest lie of all?”

  She blushed to her roots. “What do you want from me?”

  “The truth.” But could they get to the truth about their feelings for each other without some basic forgiveness? He dragged his fingers through his hair and inhaled deeply, blowing the breath through his nostrils. “Maybe we’d better settle something else first.”

  “What?”

  He paced to the opposite end of the hearth and turned slowly toward her. “What’s the real reason you didn’t tell me about the kids after you knew I wasn’t Nick Diamond?”

  Kerrie blanched. She couldn’t stand the hurt in his eyes. Maybe for the girls’ sakes, it was time to start healing. Maybe clearing the air was a good step. She ran her tongue over her lips, which still tingled from his kiss. “I—I didn’t want you to ever know about them. I—I was afraid you’d turn my life upside down, that you’d walk in and demand your rights, that you’d—” she swallowed hard over the crux of the matter “—you’d take them away from me.”

  She was still terrified of that. And she realized with a start, more terrified still that he wouldn’t forgive her.

  Oddly, he was smiling at her. A sweet, sad smile that held no resentment, only compassion. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room. His gaze unnerved her. She ducked her head and stared at her clenched hands.

  “I would never take the girls away from you, Irish. I only want to be a part of their lives. I want to be their dad.”

  The simple declaration ripped at her heart Silence followed. To Kerrie it seemed the force of that silence might very well push her further away from him. She’d never felt so helpless. She twisted her hands.

  Roman said, “I forgive you.”

  Her head jerked up, and her gaze collided with his.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Can you forgive me?”

  She caught the sob that climbed her throat. “F-for. what?”

  “For not being there for you when you needed me. For what you must have suffered—the hardships of going through an unexpected pregnancy. The strain on your career. The difficulties you’ve faced being a single mother, a cop, raising two kids on your own.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she quickly clamped it shut “Are you for real? You’ve actually thought about all of that?”

  “Thought about it long and hard. I can’t make it up to you and I don’t know if you can forgive me.”

  She shook her head at him. Was he daft? “How could you have been there for me through any of that when I never told you I was pregnant in the first place?”

  “Then maybe it’s Fate we should blame.” He waved his hands, his expression intense. “But we should forgive ourselves and each other. We need to. It’s the only way we can move on, get past this.”

  She knew he was right. So damned good-looking, so damned sexy, and so damned smart. She smiled at him. “I forgive you, Donnello.”

  “Truce, then.”

  “Yes.” Her smile broadened. “Our daughters are lucky to have you for their daddy.”

  She had selected her praise carefully. She had chosen right. It was the first time since he’d discovered he was the twins’ father that she’d seen him smile at her without a trace of hurt. It warmed her heart, stole some of her fear about his relationship with the girls.

  He moved closer, so close she was nearly pressed to the fireplace. His feral energy was as potent as an aphrodisiac. Kerrie struggled against the desire flaring within her.

  He lowered his face toward hers. “What we shared last night was more than sex.”

  When he was this near she couldn’t think. Somehow she managed to admit, “No, it was sweet and tender and giving.”

  He leaned closer, his lips hovering over hers. “It made me feel whole.”

  “Me, too,” she murmured.

  “I need to know how you feel about me.”

  She slammed her eyes shut. Could she tell him what was in her heart? Could she risk his rejection? Wasn’t it better to reject first? No. She’d done that, and what had it gotten her? Hell, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t risked anything before now. This very relationship had been a risk from the moment she’d met this man.

  She gazed up at him, intending to be one hundred percent honest. One look at his smoldering gaze and her resolve faltered. “I—I have strong feelings for you.”

  “Strong feelings? I was hoping for a better definition. Like ‘I love you Roman’…because with every ounce of my being, I love you, Kerrie Muldoon.”

  He nuzzled his jaw against her temple, but didn’t touch her otherwise—as though he were afraid that she didn’t return his feelings. Tears burned her eyes, her throat.

  He whispered, “Do you think that strong feeling you have for me could be love, Irish?”

  She reached up to stroke his face, to touch his thick rich hair. “I know it is, Donnello.”

  He let out a low moan, then a laugh, then he gathered her against his body and kissed her until they were both breathless. He lifted his head, cupping her face in both his hands. “Marry me, Irish?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It took Kerrie a long moment to realize that the alien feeling swirling through her was happiness. Sheer utter joy. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Roman Donnello. Just don’t say later that you didn’t know what you were getting into.”

  “I promise.” Laughing, he took her hand, led her to the sofa and pulled her down beside him. “Oh, God, this is incredible. First I’m a father, and now I’m going to be a husband.”

  Kerrie laughed. “Most men do it the other way around.”

  “Well, I’ll get the rest in the right order.” He leaned back, lost in plans. “I’l list the town house with a Realtor right away. We’ll get a house somewhere near here, big enough for all of us, with a huge fenced backyard where the girls can play and you can grow herbs and vegetables, if you like. A big kitchen.”

  Kerrie was momentarily taken aback. “You want me to quit my job and move to Virginia?”

  “Of course.” He looked as if he couldn’t believe she would consider anything else. “Your house is gone. What’s to keep you there?”

  Her ire flared. “After all that understanding talk about all I’ve suffered to hang onto my career, you expect me to give it up and become a full-time wife and mother?”

  “The girls need you at home and I’ve got plenty of money. Why should you work?”

  A red haze fogged Kerrie’s eyes. The gall of the man. She leaped to her feet and poked her finger in the air near his chest. “I’m proud of what a good’cop I am. I thought you were proud of that, too.”

  “I am proud of you.” Roman scowled, his face as dark as a thundercloud, his demeanor unmistakably macho. “What do you want me to do—give up my job?”

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, I probably make more money than you.”

  “Oh, it’s back to money again?”

  “You aren’t being practical about this, Irish. Up till now, your mom’s looked after the kids. But is she going to live with us after we marry? I doubt it. What if she gets married? Do you want some stranger watching the girls?”

  “Why can’t their daddy watch them?”

  “Stubborn.” He rolled his eyes at her. “Woman, you’ve got your priorities all messed up.”

  “No, that’s not it at all. You just expect me to make all the compromises—because I’m the woman.”

  “I’m making compromises. I’m selling my town house.”

  She bit her lower lip. “I thought you loved me.”

  “I do.” His scowl wavered into abject confusio
n. “I thought love was supposed to solve these kinds of problems.”

  “So did I. Looks like we were both wrong.”

  ROMAN HAD ENVISIONED them falling into each other’s arms, celebrating their upcoming wedding by making love all night. Instead he was alone in his bed, and Kerrie was across the hall in the guest room. The short-lived engagement called off. So much for honesty and love. They were miles apart on some important issues, and there didn’t seem a compromise both of them could live with that would span the gap. He’d never felt so miserable in his life. Sleep eluded him.

  In the morning, it was all he could do to breathe every time he looked at her. Tiny bruises under her eyes told him that she hadn’t slept, either. Her attitude was frosty. She spoke only when necessary. Frustration gnawed him. Normally his kitchen easily accommodated two people. Today it wasn’t big enough for either of their egos.

  She crossed to the kitchen counter and reached for the coffeepot, her arm brushing his. That was all it took. That tiny contact and he wanted her. He dragged his hand through his hair. Then gripped her by both upper arms and pulled her close. Desire was heating her eyes as it was heating his belly. “We’re pathetic, Irish. We can’t stay out of bed together, but we can’t live together. Can’t set aside our differences long enough to make it through one day together—unless it’s to find a killer.”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you today. I want to see my daughters. That, at least, is one subject we can agree on.”

  He released her with disgust, most of it directed at himself.

  THEY SET OUT in Roman’s Blazer for Philip Waring’s estate. They’d been driving for half an hour on 66 West…now and were nearly to Middleburg, a charming and historic community where spectacular horse farms and wineries lived side by side.