Cowboy Enchantment

chapter Twelve


Hank woke up the next morning and lay in bed, eyes closed. He could still see, in his mind’s eye, moonlight dancing over the smooth curves of Erica’s body, casting her breasts in sharp relief. Her face in that magical light had appeared carved in silver and was more memorable than any daydream he’d ever had.

He stepped back into that memory, felt her body so close to his that he longed to touch her, and he shut out the place, which was his own bed, and the present, which would soon get very busy. He kissed her, long and hard and deep, and he slipped his hand between her legs. She was moist and ready for him, and she urged him closer, sighed when he released her lips, floated up and over him to settle in exactly the right place so that his—

A dog started barking. At first he thought it was far away and part of his dream, but as the dream burst like a bubble, he realized that the barking was right outside the kitchen door. He sternly requested his anatomy to calm down and threw off the covers.

He pulled on jeans and hurried to the back door. There was Murphy, wagging his whole body and begging to be let in.

“You old nuisance,” he said, happy to see Murphy despite the dog’s disappearance last night when he set off in pursuit of the cat.

Murphy pattered around the kitchen, looking for his food dish. He found the food Paloma had left on the floor for Mrs. Gray and gobbled down all of it before Hank could stop him.

“Well, I guess that solves the problem of what to feed you,” Hank said as Kaylie began warming up for an early-morning complaint. He went to the refrigerator and took out a baby bottle full of milk.

Kaylie cheered up when she saw Hank with the bottle, and she gave it her best effort while he changed her diaper. Then he lifted her into his arms and took her into the kitchen, where he settled her into her high chair and proceeded to heat up her cereal.

Murphy watched every move. “I wonder if Justine came back last night,” Hank said to him, but Murphy looked blank. Hank dialed the number of the Big House, but Justine didn’t answer. He’d try again later.

“So, Murphy,” he said conversationally as he started to feed Kaylie, “what happened last night? Did Mrs. Gray lead you on a merry chase?”

Murphy looked noncommittal and quite raffish.

“Oh, so you found a lady friend?”

Murphy flopped his tail up and down enthusiastically.

“Well, so did I. And we…Uh-oh, here she is.”

Erica spotted him through the window on the door and smiled. She let herself in, wearing a brightly patterned pullover against the early-morning chill; her rosy cheeks made her gray eyes sparkle. He didn’t have time to register the fact that her eyes weren’t the color they’d been last night, and besides, she looked fantastic. He got up and took her in his arms.

“Mmm,” she said, inhaling deeply. “You smell like sleep.”

“Mmm,” he echoed. “You smell like soap. So will I after I take a shower. I thought maybe you’d like to join me, but you’re way ahead of me.”

“I woke up early. Couldn’t sleep.” She opened the refrigerator and took out the eggs and bacon.

He sat back down and started to feed Kaylie again. “Anything wrong?”

Erica looked abashed. “I kept thinking of things I want to know. For instance, does Kaylie eat fried eggs?”

“No, she’s not into fried. She’ll eat poached and soft-cooked. This is her breakfast this morning.”

Erica bent over and sniffed the cereal. “Good heavens,” she said under her breath. “Do we all start out eating that stuff?”

“Pretty much.”

The phone rang, and Hank got up to answer it. He handed Erica the spoon. “Here, would you mind taking over the feeding duties?” He disappeared into the living room.

Erica looked uncertainly from the spoon to the cereal and then to Kaylie, who was gazing up at her with equal uncertainty. “Well,” Erica said with false bravado, “let’s proceed as though I know what I’m doing.”

For an answer, Kaylie banged the flat of her hand on the high-chair tray. Erica sat down on the chair vacated by Hank and scooped up cereal with the spoon. Tentatively she held it out toward Kaylie, who opened her mouth like a baby bird. Erica had no idea if she was offering too much or not enough, but she held her breath and dumped the contents of the spoon into Kaylie’s open mouth. Kaylie promptly spit half of it down her chin.

“Too much,” Erica muttered as she wiped Kaylie off with a napkin. “I’ll see if I can do better this time.”

The next spoonful held only about half the cereal that the last one did, and this time Erica knew to angle the spoon so that Kaylie swallowed most of the contents. What she didn’t swallow dribbled down the baby’s chin again, only now Erica had a napkin at the ready.

“Tests? What kind of tests?” Hank was saying into the phone in the other room. A silence, and then Hank spoke again. “You should stay as long as you need to. No, I’ll take care of Murphy. Don’t worry about it.” Another pause. “Sure, I have to teach. Right. Why don’t I ask Erica if she can help out?”

Erica, distracted by this conversation, heard a little clink! on the spoon. At the same time, Kaylie squinched up her face so that Erica looked at her sharply, and when Kaylie opened her mouth for another spoonful of cereal, Erica noticed a speck of white in the middle of Kaylie’s bottom gum. She looked closer. A tooth! A tooth was erupting there!

“Hank?” she said unsteadily. “Hank!”

Her tone of voice must have alarmed him because he rushed into the kitchen, phone in hand. “Is something wrong?”

“I think Kaylie has her first tooth!”

He bent quickly to look. “Why, it is!” He raised the phone to his ear again. “Justine, Kaylie has her first tooth. No, Paloma didn’t discover it. Erica did.”

Erica wiped Kaylie’s face, raising her eyebrows at Hank. Now their secret was out. Now Justine would guess what was going on.

Hank rolled his eyes. “Erica is here, yes.” A pause while Justine talked. “She was feeding Kaylie her cereal. Yes, I know she’s a guest, but you know the policy of Rancho Encantado—if it feels good, do it.” Another silence, while Erica shook her head violently, willing Hank to be quiet.

“Of course I know that’s not the policy here, Justine, but did you ever consider that it should be? Sure, you can talk to her. Just a minute.” He appropriated the spoon from Erica, motioned for her to get up and sat down to feed Kaylie himself.

Erica took the phone from him and went into the living room.

“You wanted to feed Kaylie?” Justine said with a large helping of skepticism.

“I, well, yes.” Erica decided to let it go at that.

“I see,” Justine said, though she still sounded puzzled. She cleared her throat. “I have a few favors to ask of you. Tony’s staying here for tests this morning, and I’ve decided I’d better stick around. If you wouldn’t mind going over to the Big House and dealing with my phone calls for a while, I’d appreciate it more than I can say.”

“Of course,” Erica murmured, watching Hank feed Kaylie. It was funny the way he made a game out of it, making the spoon fly up into the air like an airplane and down again into Kaylie’s mouth.

“A vendor will be calling today, and you’ll need to tell him that I’m not interested in serving any more processed foods. Also, Pavel says he wants a vacation, which would be disastrous for us. If you could convince him that he’s much appreciated, that might help. Oh, and there’s a message from a freelance reporter, Brooke something-or-other, who wants to write a series of articles about Rancho Encantado. It’s good free publicity, so I’m inclined to offer her a free makeover if she calls back. That’s all I can think of at the moment.”

Erica assured Justine that she didn’t mind helping out, and after she hung up, she rejoined Hank and Kaylie in the kitchen. “I think Justine suspects we’ve got something going,” she told him.

“I hope so. I’d hate for her to think that my main attraction is a baby who needs feeding.”

“Oh, you,” Erica said, pushing at his shoulder.

He caught her hand. “Oh, you. And me.”

He pulled her down and kissed her on the mouth, and when he did, Erica couldn’t have cared less what Justine thought. Or anyone else, for that matter.

BY NOON, Erica had rebuffed the vendor, soothed the chef and spoken with the reporter, who expressed interest in the makeover and agreed to call back when Justine was available. She was in the process of applying her considerable organizational skills to Justine’s desk when a nervous clerk rushed in from the main office.

“We have a problem, and I hope you can help,” said the woman, whose name tag identified her as Bridget.

“What is it?” Erica said, moving the tape dispenser to the top of a file cabinet and stashing a stack of receipts in a drawer.

“It is this woman, a guest here,” Bridget said, all but wringing her hands. “She is attacking me.”

Erica glanced up in alarm. “Attacking you?”

“Oh, not physically, but I told her there was no one to drive her to the airport. We sent out a notice that Tony was sick, and we asked everyone who needed a ride to the airport in Las Vegas to be at the main desk by nine o’clock this morning so that one of the ranch hands could drive them. A number of people showed up, but this Lizette, she did not. She says it’s not her fault. She says the staff is lax and unfeeling and—”

Erica interrupted. “Lizette? Are you sure?”

“Yes, and she says she will make trouble for me, for everyone, if she doesn’t make her flight in time, and it leaves this afternoon. She booked it this morning apparently, and now she expects us to stop everything and find her a ride. There is no one to take her, no one at all.”

“I see.” Erica, accustomed to handling more severe crises at MacNee, Levy and Ashe, was sure she could deal with this one. She only wished that it didn’t involve Hank’s ex-girlfriend.

“Would you come and talk to her? She’s very angry.”

As happy as she’d be to send Lizette on her way, Erica immediately nixed the idea of talking to her. She racked her brain for some way to get the woman to the airport without creating more problems than she solved.

“Is there a van available?”

“The only van has gone to the airport.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Bridget,” Erica told her nervous visitor after ushering her out of the office. Then, with the woman fidgeting outside the door, she tried to track Justine down in Las Vegas.

First she tried calling the hospital, which entailed a wait while the operator paged Justine.

“She doesn’t answer the page,” the operator told Erica. “Since she didn’t, I have no way of finding her.”

Erica asked that Justine be paged again before hanging up. Then she considered the situation.

Certainly she believed Bridget’s claim that there was no ranch employee available to drive Lizette anywhere. Erica could drive Lizette to the airport herself, but this wasn’t a good idea. She could only imagine how incensed Hank’s former girlfriend would be at being cooped up in a car with her for two hours. Perhaps Hank would drive Lizette, but that seemed like another recipe for disaster, and besides, she knew he was teaching all morning. What to do?

A glance at the desk clock told her that it was lunchtime, so she called Hank, hoping to catch him at home. He answered, much to her relief.

“Hank, here’s the situation,” she said, then launched into an explanation.

When she’d finished, Hank expelled a long breath. “I agree that neither you nor I should drive Lizette anywhere.” He paused, seeming to think things over. “Paloma could take her,” he said after a few moments. “I’ll ask her.”

“Hank, wait! Who would take care of Kaylie if Paloma is driving Lizette?”

“You,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

At one time Erica would have been discomfited by such a request. She didn’t do babies. But that wasn’t true anymore—she did do babies, and maybe she even had a knack for it. She felt pleased that Hank trusted her to look after his daughter.

“Of course,” she said warmly. “That’s the perfect solution.”

“I’ll ask Paloma to bring Kaylie over to the Big House.” He muffled the phone for a moment. When he spoke again, he was chuckling. “Paloma is nodding her head. She likes to go to Las Vegas. They have lots of wedding shops where she can look for her wedding finery.”

Erica heard Paloma laugh in the background, and then Hank hung up.

Bridget was overjoyed to learn that Erica had found a driver. “Thank goodness,” she said over and over. “I couldn’t face that woman if I went back and told her she would miss her plane.”

Which is the last thing any of us wants, considering that all she’s done is stir up trouble, Erica thought, but didn’t say.

Paloma, smiling as always, lost no time in bringing Kaylie to her. “She hasn’t yet had her bath, so she’ll need one some time today. She will also need an afternoon nap.”

“If she sleeps this afternoon, will she want a later bedtime?”

“No, she will go to bed at the usual time,” Paloma said, and Erica thought that sounded good. She wanted Kaylie to sleep well. She wanted to spend her remaining evenings at Rancho Encantado enjoying Hank’s undivided attention.

This reminded her that she would be leaving before long, leaving her perfect cowboy and everything he represented. The thought made her hold Kaylie even closer because the baby was a little bit of Hank.

Through the window, she saw Lizette climbing into Paloma’s sedan, and then the car set off slowly up the driveway to the highway. Erica felt melancholy at the thought that she would soon be the one getting into a car and being driven to the airport. Her return to real life was inevitable, and for the first time, she realized what a wrench it would be to go back to the city and all the city represented.

“Oh, Kaylie,” she said brokenly. “I’m going to hate to leave.”

“Babababa,” said Kaylie, sounding serious, but Erica knew that the baby’s attempt at consolation was really only a sign that she had spotted Murphy lying under Justine’s desk and wanted him to come out and play.

PUSHING KAYLIE in her stroller, with Murphy trotting along beside them on his leash, Erica walked over to Desert Rose in the early afternoon to get her camera. Kaylie and Murphy seemed to have a real affection for each other, and she thought she would never have a better chance to take pictures of them together. She thought it was cute the way Kaylie showed her feelings for the dog by squealing with glee whenever he walked into the room, and Murphy showed his for Kaylie by slurping her face with his tongue. Not that Erica approved of this means of showing affection, but Murphy could be persistent and usually struck when her back was turned.

She stopped off at the kitchen for a word with Pavel, who’d seemed to warm to her when she’d talked with him on the phone. He was a highly volatile Russian who considered himself to be a food artiste, not a mere chef, and she found him supervising the creation of low-fat canapés for the evening’s wine-tasting party.

“Yes, yes, what do you want?” he demanded irritably when she appeared at the kitchen door.

“A word with you. I’m Erica Strong,” she said with some trepidation. Though he had been easily mollified earlier, he was indeed daunting.

He abandoned his truculent attitude and threw the door open with a courtly gesture. “Come in, come in, you and your baby.”

Erica felt herself flush with embarrassment. “Kaylie isn’t my baby. I’m taking care of her for Hank Milling.”

“Ah, Hank,” the chef murmured. “Justine’s brother.”

“Yes, and I’ve been thinking about making baby food for her. My sister did it for her son, and she said that it was much better for him than the stuff in little jars at the supermarket.”

“Oh, yes, that is true. A baby should eat only organically grown food, no preservatives!”

“I’m hoping you’ll let me have fresh vegetables from the kitchen,” Erica said hopefully as Kaylie beamed at Pavel most charmingly.

“For the baby, no problem. You come to me every day, I will give you the most fresh vegetables.” He chucked Kaylie under the chin.

Before they left, he heaped the stroller basket with bags of green beans and peas. “These are on today’s menu. Tomorrow, beets! Kale! Broccoli!”

Since Erica liked none of the above herself, she thought privately that she might make do with the beans and peas and skip tomorrow. Pavel told her exactly how to cook the vegetables before puréeing them in the blender.

After bidding Pavel goodbye, they headed toward Desert Rose, where Erica tied Murphy to the bench in the courtyard and instructed him to lie down while she and Kaylie went inside. Murphy obediently bedded down under the bench, his tongue lolling out.

While she checked her e-mail, Kaylie sat in her stroller and chewed on her teething toy, making Erica think that her second tooth might erupt in the not-too-distant future.

“You’ll look mighty grown-up with those two front teeth,” Erica told her, and Kaylie treated her to a sloppy grin.

It was then that the tiny black-and-white kitten scampered out from under the couch. Erica immediately recognized it as one of Mrs. Gray’s offspring and bent to scoop it up.

“How did you get in here?” she asked, charmed by its wide, bluish-gray eyes and air of innocence.

The kitten, not having Mrs. Gray’s gift of gab, said nothing, but it did start to purr.

“How sweet,” she murmured. “But you can’t stay here. You have to go back to the stable.”

The kitten went on purring, and reluctantly she set it down on the floor, where it spied a small length of thread and began to stalk it like a panther. While Kaylie chortled in amusement, Erica went to check for places where the kitten might have gained access. Sure enough, she had left the bathroom window open that morning, and there was a ledge where the cat could have climbed in.

“Well,” Erica said to the kitten, “since you’re so cute, I’ll let you hang around until I’ve checked my e-mail.” The kitten rolled over on its back and gave the piece of thread a swift rabbit kick with its back feet, which amused Kaylie even more.

Since the kitten was doing such a good job of entertaining the baby, Erica went and switched on her computer.


YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

Erica, okay, okay, so my last message was way out of line. I admit I was worried, but deep down I know your common sense won’t let you go overboard for a mere cowboy, so I apologize.

I guess you’re enjoying the oh, so exotic delights of Rancho Encantado? Getting to know Justine and having fun? I hope so.

Let me hear from you soon, unless you’re still angry. Again, I’m sorry.

Love,

Char

Hi Charmaine.

No, I’m not mad, just busy.

Today I’m taking care of Kaylie. Right now she’s sitting in her stroller and laughing at the kitten I found in my suite. Did you ever look, really look, at a baby when it laughs? It’s pure sunshine. It makes you feel good all over.

The chef is giving me fresh vegetables every day so I can make baby food for Kaylie. It’s time for me to get back to the Big House and figure out where Justine keeps her blender.

Love,

E.


As Erica logged off her Internet connection, Murphy started raising a ruckus in the courtyard. Mindful that some people in the other units at Desert Rose might be napping at this hour, she hurried outside to shush him.

“Murphy, quiet! What’s the matter with you?”

The dog kept on barking. He had unfurled his leash to its fullest extension and was straining at the end of it as he tried his best to charge into the cactus patch.

Erica tugged at the leash, trying to make him cease and desist. Murphy ignored her and began to growl at the cactus patch, his teeth bared.

“Good grief,” Erica muttered, wondering what Murphy could have seen that had incited him to such fury.

She untied the leash and gave it a couple of sharp yanks. After a few more barks, these less frenzied than the last, Murphy allowed himself to be distracted by a dog biscuit Erica found in her pocket.

After he’d eaten it, she bent to scratch him behind the ears. “What happened? Did you spot a rabbit?” Then, recalling that she’d thought she’d seen the faint figure of a man in the cactus garden one night, she narrowed her eyes and peered into it. All she saw was an attractive arrangement of cactus and a lizard sunning himself on one of the rocks.

“A lizard! He can’t hurt us, Murphy. I’m surprised at you for making such a fuss.” She noticed Mrs. Gray sitting in the shade provided by the roof on the other side of the building. “Or were you barking at the cat?”

Murphy declined to give her any clues. He only begged for another dog biscuit, which Erica couldn’t provide.

“We’ll go back to the Big House, and I’ll feed you as many biscuits as your heart desires. As for you, cat, one of your offspring has made himself welcome in my suite. Wait there, and I’ll go get him.”

When she came out juggling the kitten, her camera, the stroller with Kaylie in it and Murphy on the end of his leash, Mrs. Gray had disappeared. Murphy spared one more bark for the cactus patch, then turned his curious attention to the kitten.

Erica set the kitten on the ground. “Go find your mama,” she said as Murphy sniffed the tiny feline with interest. The kitten capered out of Murphy’s reach and gazed up at her so uncertainly that Erica almost relented. “Go on,” she said, and to her relief, the kitten finally began to bat a leaf around on the sidewalk.

She figured that the mother cat would return to retrieve her kitten, so she resolutely turned her back on it and started back toward the Big House.

“Babababa?” asked Kaylie.

“We can’t take the kitten with us,” she explained gently, although halfway to the Big House, Erica began asking herself, Why not?

But by that time, they’d gone too far to turn back, considering that Kaylie needed a diaper change and Murphy was begging for more biscuits.

HANK PHONED as she was spooning puréed peas out of the blender, having successfully completed the homemade baby-food venture.

“Good news, Erica. Tony’s going to be okay. Justine says they’ll be home this evening. Apparently he didn’t eat breakfast before he left on his run to the airport, and he started to feel weak.”

“Will they be back in time for dinner?”

“No, but what are we having?”

She warmed to his use of the word we. “Pavel said it’s his Rancho Encantado beef stew, whatever that means.”

“It’s stew with fresh artichoke hearts in it, and he puts parmesan cheese biscuits on top. It’s wonderful.” He paused. “How are you and Kaylie getting along?”

Erica glanced at Kaylie, who was lying on her back in the playpen cooing at a cloth book.

“We’re doing fine. She’s so much fun. Why, I even gave her a bath.”

“You did?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes, Paloma said she hadn’t had one yet today. It gave us a chance to play hide the rubber duckie and peekaboo, and I dried her off and dressed her in the cutest little polka-dot outfit, and then I played the piano for her and—”

“Hold on, hold on.” Hank was laughing. “You make the afternoon sound as much fun as an amusement park.”

“Your daughter is like an amusement park all crammed into one little person.”

His voice softened. “I’m glad you feel that way, Erica.”

“I’m enjoying her,” she said, amazed to realize it was true. She loved watching the light of understanding flare in Kaylie’s blue eyes when she learned something, and the way Kaylie gave her her total attention when she was feeding her or diapering her or giving her a bath. That was more than you could say for clients, even when you were making a fantastic presentation.

“I’ll be early for dinner, and maybe after we put Kaylie to bed, you’ll enjoy taking care of the baby’s daddy.” Hank’s meaning was unmistakable, and Erica laughed.

“Maybe I will,” she said, and when they hung up, they were both laughing.

She heard the clink of the mail slot in the front door and went to pick up the envelopes that were scattered on the floor. She was surprised to find one addressed to Hank and bearing the return address of Rowbotham-Quigley, the firm that was competing with her own firm for the important Gillooley account.

Wondering what business Hank might have with a major investment firm in New York, she set it on top of his other mail and left it on the table for him to pick up. Then she went to see if Kaylie found homemade baby food to her liking.

AFTER DINNER, Kaylie, sated with a large portion of puréed peas, fell asleep in her crib in her bedroom at Justine’s house. Hank lit a fire, and Erica played the piano for him. When she finished playing, he came up behind the piano bench and rested his hands on her shoulders. He massaged them gently and said, “Let’s step outside for a while. It’s such a beautiful night.”

Erica smiled up at him and pulled on one of Justine’s jackets, following him out into the walled garden off the dining room. The air was faintly scented with the pungent fragrance of creosote, and Erica wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm.

“Cold?” Hank asked.

She nodded.

“I can fix that,” he said, pulling her into his arms and resting his chin on the top of her head. She inhaled deeply of his scent, that outdoorsy smell mingled with the faint suggestion of leather. “Warmer now?”

She nodded, dislodging his chin, and she wasn’t surprised when he tipped her face up toward his. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into extending your stay here,” he said, his eyes delving deep into hers.

She bit her lip. “I’m supposed to be back at work on Thursday.”

“We’ve barely begun to learn about each other.”

“I know.”

“If you could stay a while longer, we’d figure out where we’re going with this,” he said, and his face was so serious that she caught her breath. She suddenly felt as though she was on the verge of a major discovery, about to step through a mystical gate whose secrets would be hers to explore if only she said some magic word….

Stay, a small voice commanded, and she broke her gaze to look around for the cat. But this was a walled garden, impossible for the cat to enter. But then, she hadn’t thought a kitten could enter her room, but he had.

“Erica?”

She told herself not to be distracted. “I’m sorry. For a moment I thought someone was here.”

“No one is here but you and me, a fact for which I am profoundly thankful.” Hank’s lips grazed her temple, and her heart skipped several beats while she tried to center herself, to remember why she couldn’t stay. Oh, yes. The Gillooley deal.

“Erica, please listen to what I say. Please take me seriously. I never thought I would be saying these words, least of all to someone I’ve only known for a short period of time, but…well, I don’t know how to say this other than to blurt it out. I’m falling in love with you.” He stared down at her, the world in the depths of his eyes.

She felt dizzy. “Hank, I don’t know what to say.” It crossed her mind that this was supposed to be nothing more than a fling. “I’m not sure what you expect of me,” she managed, knowing it was too soon to tell him she was crazy about him, that he fit her notion of what the perfect cowboy should be.

He raised her hand and pressed his lips to the palm. “It’s too early to expect you to return my feelings, I know. That’s why I was hoping you could stay here for a while.”

Possible scenarios crashed through her head, crazy-making scenes of her living here at Rancho Encantado, cooking over the stove in the small apartment. Riding with Hank across the salt flats, her hair blowing in the wind. And in time, Kaylie on her own little pony, giggling as they showed her the peculiar rock formations at the Devil’s Picnic Ground, racing to catch up with them as they rode toward Bottle Canyon, calling Hank Daddy, calling her Mommy. It was this last one that really gave her pause. She’d never thought to hear herself called Mommy.

“I know it’s sudden, but I’ve been hoping we could work something out.” This last statement was punctuated by the lights of a car swinging across the top of the wall and the car’s halt in the parking area beside the garage.

“That’s Justine,” Hank said. “Let’s continue this discussion at my place as soon as possible.”

He held her hand as they went back inside, only releasing it when they heard Justine turn the doorknob.

Justine looked pale, but she seemed relieved. “Tony has agreed that he will never again attempt to drive all the way to Las Vegas on an empty stomach. Whew! He had me worried. I was up almost all last night, hardly slept. Which is why I’m going straight to bed.” She paused, giving them a keen look. “Is everything okay with you two?”

“Um, yes,” Erica said, self-conscious under Justine’s scrutiny.

“We’re going to collect Kaylie from her crib and be on our way,” Hank said.

Justine insisted on looking in on Kaylie, and then she excused herself, yawning widely. “I’ll see everyone tomorrow,” she said.

“I’ll come over in the morning and put the coffee on for you,” Hank said.

Justine’s eyebrows flew upward. “Why on earth?”

“I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Nothing’s wrong, is it?” Justine sounded alarmed.

“No, something’s right.” Hank smiled at her.

Justine, looking mystified, only said, “You’ve got me curious, but it’ll have to wait. I’m dead on my feet. Good night, all.” She walked down the hall to her room and closed the door.

“What was that about?” Erica wanted to know.

“I’m going to tell Justine not to feel guilty about what happened to Anne-Marie.”

“Does that mean that you’re still feeling responsible for the accident?”

“I’m getting over it. I’ve begun to see that blaming anyone—even Anne-Marie herself—isn’t helping matters. The accident happened. It changed our lives. It’s time to move on.” He looked so contemplative that Erica touched his arm in support.

He rested his hand over hers for a moment. “Let’s get Kaylie. I’m ready for some alone time with you.”

Kaylie scarcely made a fuss as Hank lifted her into his arms and Erica gathered her diaper bag and toys. Murphy tried to follow them, but Hank made him go back. “Tomorrow, old fellow,” he promised, after which Murphy went uncomplainingly to his bed in the kitchen.

“Now,” Hank said, “I’d better take my mail along.” He went to the hall table, Erica close behind him. “Can you grab it? I’ll open it at my place.”

Erica scooped up the mail with the Rowbotham-Quigley envelope on top. “About this letter,” she said, holding it up for him to see. “Do you have business with them? I deal with R-Q in my job at McNee, Levy and Ashe.”

His eyes locked on hers for an overly long instant. “Yes,” he said slowly, seeming to gauge her reaction. “I work for them.”

“You do?”

“I’ll soon make partner if things stay on track.”

Erica stared at him, her brain unable to wrap itself around his words. “You mean you’re not really a cowboy?”

“No, Erica. I’m really an investment banker.” His eyes were steady and sincere.

Her mind reeled with this new information, which she could not readily compute. She was overcome with a rush of disappointment, and she felt the color drain from her face. She could hardly believe his words. “You mean you’re an investment banker? With R-Q? And not a cowboy at all?”

“That’s right,” he said evenly. “If you love me, it won’t make any difference. Or will it?”