Conception Cover-Up. Karen Barrett Lawton
expression was interested, not avidly curious. He wasn’t looking for a sensational story. He was offering an ear.
Needing to move, she got to her feet and walked over to put her mug in the sink.
For days after Tony’s death his fellow officers had dropped by. They’d offered her a shoulder to cry on, too. But she’d gotten the feeling that they needed to talk about Tony, to reassure themselves that the same thing wouldn’t happen to them. When she’d tried to express her own frustration, they’d turned off. They didn’t want to hear what their wives and girlfriends felt when their loved ones put their lives on the line time and time again.
She walked back into the living area. Caleb had set his empty mug on the coffee table. “Can I get you anything else?”
He shook his head. “Come sit down.”
She sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. Two seat cushions separated them. It wasn’t enough. She could feel the warmth radiating from him. His arms were tanned and muscular, their strength undiminished by the cuts and bruises that marred the flesh. Her fingers tingled as if remembering the texture of his skin.
She wrapped her arms around her waist to keep from reaching out. What the heck had gotten into her? Had she lived within her self-imposed seclusion so long that she was ready to throw herself at any man who came along?
“Shannon? Are you all right? I’m sorry I pressed you. If it’s still too painful to talk about your husband…”
She looked at Caleb, saw the concern on his handsome face and knew that he was not just “any man.”
“I’m fine.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “I was just thinking.” About him, not about Tony, as Caleb must have thought.
The twinge of guilt that followed loosened her tongue. “Tony was a police officer in San José. He was killed three years ago in the line of duty.”
“I’m sorry.”
The simple words eased the lump in her throat. Her friend Zoe had often told her she’d feel better if she talked about it, but she’d never been able to discuss Tony with anyone, even her best friend. Was that why she’d suddenly decided to talk? Or was it just a cover-up for her inappropriate feelings?
“Don’t stop now.” Caleb touched her hand.
The resulting tremor rocked her to her toes.
She pulled her hand back, looked away. Oh, no, she could not have this. He was a lost soul, just passing through. And she? She was even more lost than he was. No matter how her senses reacted to him, physical attraction did not equal a relationship. And even if it did, a relationship was the last thing she wanted.
“Shannon?” he said softly. “Tell me what happened.”
And because telling Tony’s story suddenly seemed easier than dealing with her own feelings, she did.
“It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot. Tony was very brave and capable. But his sense of responsibility for his fellow officers…” She gazed into the fire, remembering. “He was always first—the first to arrive, the first to volunteer.”
“The first to be wounded?”
She nodded. “I can’t count the times I had to go to the emergency room to pick him up.” Gashes, knife wounds, bullets. “Time after time, I’d tend Tony’s wounds. Time after time, he’d go back to the job.” Eagerly, happily, as soon as he could, she remembered bitterly. “Being a police officer was his life.”
“And in the end it was his death,” Caleb said quietly.
Shannon nodded.
“I don’t mean to be judgmental, but it sounds like he was reckless.”
She half laughed, feeling no humor. “Men are. Haven’t you noticed?”
Chapter Four
Caleb wanted to dispute it. He’d gotten his share of injuries, but he’d never rushed into the situations that had led to them. He’d gotten a reputation for knowing when to go and when to stay. It had saved his butt. It had saved his partners’ butts. But after the way he’d landed on her doorstep, why should Shannon believe him?
Besides, now that he’d started the lie, he had to stay with it. For his, and her, own good.
He looked over at her. She sat staring into the fire. Light danced on her face and shot red highlights through her tawny hair. He still couldn’t discern the color of her eyes, but he knew they didn’t see the fire that set her smooth skin aglow. No, her eyes were focused on the past. On a man who had made police work his life.
He tried to understand Officer Tony Garrett. It should have been easy. Caleb had been a dedicated officer of the law since he’d graduated from the Police Academy at the age of twenty-two. Twelve years later he looked back on a decorated career he was proud of. But he hadn’t had a loving wife waiting for him at home.
Shannon was a beautiful intelligent woman. Tony Garrett had been lucky to find her. How could the man keep putting himself in situations where in seconds he could lose everything?
Yet, knowing the kind of vicious criminals that plagued the world, Caleb thought a second later, how could he not? A real man, a real cop, couldn’t go home to his family knowing he hadn’t given his all to rid the streets of crime. It might be hard for the widow of a dead cop to understand, but…
Wanting very much to ease her pain, he reached out and touched her hand again.
She jumped as if she’d been burned, then got up to place another log on the fire.
“I hope you don’t regret telling me about your husband,” he said.
She shook her head and prodded the new log with the poker. “I moved here a couple of months after Tony died. Most of my communication is done over the computer or the telephone. I haven’t talked to anyone about Tony in years.”
Her delivery was so stoic that Caleb felt an urge to give her a shake. “I understand that becoming a widow at such a young age must have been hard on you, but don’t you think three years is long enough to live as a recluse?”
She turned on him, poker still in hand. “You know nothing about me or why I choose to live the way I live, so keep your opinions to yourself.”
Caleb immediately apologized. “You’re right. Our acquaintance is too short for me to make such a judgment,” he said formally. But he couldn’t help thinking that he had hit a raw nerve. Was it possible the ice Shannon had encased herself in was thawing? It seemed to him that her fiery reply could only mean one thing. Shannon Garrett was returning to the land of the living—and fighting it every step of the way.
She returned the poker to its rack. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed. I’ve been working since six this morning. Since I’ll be sleeping on the couch, you’ll have to go back to the bedroom.”
The coldness of her request caused an equal and opposite reaction in Caleb’s lower regions. He looked at Shannon, who stood stiffly, her head tossed back as if ready for a fight.
“I know it’s still fairly early,” she added. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Caleb bit back a laugh. The words may have been polite, but the tone told him she didn’t give a damn whether he minded or not. How could a once-married woman not realize what a challenge a haughty woman presented to a man?
As much as he wanted to stay in the same room with her, if she kept looking at him like a prickly princess, with him in his weakened condition, he didn’t know if he could trust himself to keep from kissing the frown off her face. He wrapped the quilt around himself and stood. “It doesn’t seem fair for you to sleep on the damp couch.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Not