One Mom Too Many Read online

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! What difference does it make who earns the money?”

  His mouth quirked. “In my world, it makes a hell of a lot of difference.”

  “Then your world is somewhere back in the nineteenth century. Am I to be punished because my career pays better than yours? Are you going to deny me your company because modeling is valued more highly than peacekeeping? Which is ludicrous, by the way, but it’s how society works these days.”

  “You’re asking me to go back on decades of indoctrination if I allow a woman to foot the bill.”

  She could tell he was only half joking. “Well, I won’t give up this cottage and toss my investments in the ocean to satisfy your male ego. So, if you want me, you have to accept my money.”

  “Love me, love my portfolio?”

  Her breath caught at his use of the word, even so casually. She tried to maintain the same tone, but didn’t quite pull it off. “I guess so.” Her voice quavered just a little.

  He set down his wineglass. “Rose, I—”

  St. Paddy jumped up and knocked the edge of the chessboard, scattering the pieces.

  “Hey, you,” Daniel said, grabbing the puppy and falling to the floor with him. “I was all set to win that game until you butted in.”

  “Likely story,” Rose said. “You knew you were going to lose, so you pinched him and made him bump the board.” But it wasn’t the destruction of the chess game that disappointed her. She wanted to know what Daniel had been about to say before St. Paddy got into the act. Had he been about to broach the subject of a commitment? Neither of them had wanted that at the beginning, but they hadn’t realized how strong and how quickly the bond would develop between them. She’d abandoned the idea of asking him to father her child, but a new, more exciting prospect was presenting itself. Perhaps she could have a child and Daniel.

  He was reaching out to her, but tentatively. The relationship was still fragile, and a telling moment had just been interrupted by her puppy. She couldn’t blame St. Paddy. He hadn’t asked to be part of this weekend. But as she watched Daniel roll on the floor with the dog, she realized that she was seeing a side of this New York cop she’d never have known otherwise. Daniel had that rare combination of sensuality and tenderness that she’d dreamed of but never found.

  Daniel straightened and set St. Paddy firmly on the floor. Then he quieted him by stroking his back. As he caressed the dog, he picked up his wine and drained it.

  “You looked as if you were really having fun with him,” Rose said.

  “On a scale of one to ten, wrestling with a dog on the floor is about a seven. Fun, but not outstanding.”

  “Really?” She knew she was blatantly fishing and didn’t even care. “What’s better?”

  “Galloping Dan Foley through the streets of New York, which I don’t get to do very often, by the way, would be at least a nine.”

  “Then what’s a ten?” She hoped she knew the answer.

  “I took a parachute-jumping course once. Leaping from a plane at twelve thousand feet would have to rate a ten.”

  “Oh.” She looked into the glowing embers of the fireplace.

  “Rose?”

  She glanced back at him.

  “Making love to you is off the charts,” he said with a smile. “I can’t count that high.”

  “Oh.” This time the exclamation came out as a breathy whisper.

  “And it’s been a long time since we’ve made love.”

  Her nerve endings sizzled. “More than three hours.”

  He stood and held out both hands. “Let’s not make it four.” When she placed her hands in his, he pulled her to her feet and into his arms.

  Much as she longed to walk straight into the bedroom with him, she couldn’t ignore her new responsibility. “I should put St. Paddy in the kitchen.”

  He kissed her swiftly and firmly. “I’ll do it. Go in and get that feather bed warm.”

  After going into the bedroom, Rose turned on the Tiffany bedside lamp and undressed quickly. On impulse, she took a decorative carafe of lavender water from the bedside table and sprinkled a few drops on the sheets and pillowcases. Then she climbed between the sheets, nestled against the cloud-soft mattress, and closed her eyes, a smile of anticipation on her face.

  Her eyes snapped open and her smile faded as she suddenly realized what she’d done to herself. She’d never lie here again without thinking of Daniel. She’d never lie here again without wanting Daniel. Her hideaway would no longer beckon with the same promise, unless Daniel was part of the picture, but she still didn’t know if he was interested in sharing her dream. She’d just thrown a major spanner into the works of her master plan.

  The embodiment of that spanner walked through the bedroom door and stripped off his shirt. For the life of her she could summon up no regret, and not just because Daniel was magnificent to look at. When he held her in an embrace both strong and tender, she felt cherished. In her limited experience with physical love, she’d been leered at, fondled and even admired, as one would admire an inanimate object. Daniel was the first man who had ever cherished her.

  “Is St. Paddy okay?” she asked.

  “He’s asleep. The ticking clock seems to be working.”

  “Good.” Hot desire flowed through her as he undressed and she thought of the pleasure to follow.

  He discarded the last of his clothes and slipped into bed beside her. “Heaven couldn’t be any better than this,” he murmured, gathering her close. “It even smells like heaven.”

  “Lavender water.” She molded herself to his virile body.

  “Nope.” He nuzzled behind her ear. “Eau de Rosie.”

  “Nobody calls me Rosie.”

  “Somebody does now.” He kissed the tip of her breast. “Touch me, Rosie. Touch me where it counts.”

  She did, grasping his heated shaft and caressing him until he moaned and pulled her hand away.

  “You’d better stop, or I’ll finish this before we really start,” he said in a husky voice as he reached for the condom on the bedside table.

  “Just following instructions, Officer.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” He snugged the condom into place and moved over her. “You once said my cop voice was intimidating.”

  “Extremely.”

  His dark gaze burned with need, and a fine sheen of sweat covered his shoulders. “So if I give you orders, you’ll follow them?”

  “I can’t seem to help myself.”

  “A man could ask for no more.” He leaned down and nibbled at her lower lip. “Spread your legs, Rosie, girl,” he whispered. “And rise to meet me, lass.”

  She didn’t need orders to welcome him deep inside her. Instinct drove her to this melding of bodies, and she suspected a melding of hearts, as well. When they were well and truly locked together, she wrapped her arms around him and looked up into his eyes. “Any more orders?”

  “Just one.”

  She held her breath. From the intensity of his expression, he was in the grip of a forceful emotion.

  “Love me.”

  Her response came without hesitation. “Yes.”

  He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. Then he opened them and gazed down at her. “I won’t get in your way, Rose.”

  “Maybe I want you in my way, you hardheaded Irishman.”

  A soft smile touched his mouth as he began to move slowly within her. “I’ll need convincing.”

  Her body tightened another notch with each stroke. “How?”

  “By making love to me about a million times.”

  12

  DANIEL FOUND his heart was too full for sleep, so he lay in a half-conscious daze of pleasure, his arms filled with the most wonderful woman in the world. He knew he and Rose had some problems to work out if they were seriously considering a permanent relationship. He’d found the woman worth giving up the mounted patrol for, but he wasn’t ready to quit the force completely, and Rose had her heart set on this little cottage in the woods. The
cottage was a hell of a long way from the city and the life he was used to.

  Of course, this cottage had the advantage of also being far away from both of their mothers. God, he didn’t even want to think about their reaction if he and Rose made an announcement. They’d have to hold the wedding in shifts, one for Maureen and the second for Bridget.

  The wedding. The concept of matrimony had once been unacceptable, and now he couldn’t imagine an alternative. Rose was everything he’d always wanted—intelligent, creative, caring and sexy. Not to mention the charisma that made her unique, the charisma that had ensnared him, heart and soul.

  He was so engrossed in his thoughts that it took him awhile to hear the whimpering from the kitchen.

  Rose stirred and hugged him closer. “St. Paddy’s unhappy in there.”

  “Afraid so.”

  “He sounds pitiful, Daniel.”

  “I know. But remember what the breeder said. We have to tough it out.”

  “You’re right. I’m sure he’ll stop soon.”

  Daniel stroked her hair as they lay together and listened to St. Paddy cry. The sound tore at his heart. He thought of how the puppy must have spent the previous night snuggled with his litter mates and his barnyard friends. Now he was completely alone. Frightened. Unable to understand why he was cut off from all love and attention.

  “I’m not good at this, Rosie,” Daniel admitted.

  “Neither am I.”

  Finally he sat up with a muttered oath. “You’d have to be a sociopath to be good at this. I’m getting him.”

  “Daniel, is this a good idea? A half pound a day, remember. The breeder said taking him to bed would be like trying to eat one potato chip out of the bag.”

  “We’ll bring his box in and have him sleep in that. It’s his first night, and he has to be scared to death.” He headed for the kitchen.

  Flipping on the kitchen light, he blinked in the glare. St. Paddy was standing right next to the board looking pathetically eager to see him. Daniel opened the makeshift gate, walked over and picked up the cardboard box.

  “Just for tonight,” he said in his sternest cop voice as he led the puppy, dancing in ecstasy, back to the bedroom.

  He positioned the box next to the bed and lifted the puppy into it before climbing back into bed beside Rose. “There,” he said, gathering her close.

  St. Paddy began to whine and Rose began to laugh.

  Daniel released her and rolled over to address the puppy, who by now had his feet on the edge of the mattress. “Lie down and go to sleep.”

  Rose continued to laugh.

  “Don’t pay attention to her. She doesn’t respect my authority, but I expect you to. Now get down, Paddy.” The puppy leaned forward and swiped a tongue over Daniel’s nose.

  Rose peered over Daniel’s shoulder. “Oh, look at him. Poor thing. He wants to sleep with us.”

  “He’s staying in his box.”

  St. Paddy rested his head between his paws and gazed up at them.

  “Aw, Daniel. Doesn’t that just melt your heart?”

  “He’s a con man, Rose, and he has you all figured out. He knows if he gives you that look, you’ll let him do anything he wants.”

  She ran a foot along his calf. “You’re the one who let him out.”

  “And it’ll work fine as long as he learns to sleep in his box.”

  “But look at that face.”

  Daniel rolled over toward her. “I’m ignoring him. He’s staying in the box, Rose.”

  St. Paddy let out a long, heartfelt sigh.

  Daniel lay staring into Rose’s eyes as Paddy sighed again, this time with more gusto.

  “Daniel.”

  “No, Rose.”

  Then the bed began to wiggle as Paddy tried to heave himself up on the mattress. When he lost his footing, he fell back into the box with a little “oof’ that sounded human.

  Daniel groaned and flopped to his back. “You win, you swindler.” He scooped the dog up and plopped him on the bed next to him.

  Rose caressed his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll tell you this. He’s staying on my side of the bed. It’ll be a cold day in hell when we sleep with a dog between us.”

  THANK THE GOOD LORD traffic wasn’t as heavy on Saturday morning as on a weekday, Maureen thought as she gripped the wheel of the big Pontiac and inched toward Central Park West. And ’twas so nice of the motorcycle policemen to escort her over to Bridget’s apartment house. She hoped she wouldn’t sit in purgatory too long for the promise she made to the nice officers, that she’d park the Pontiac and not drive back to Brooklyn until early Sunday, when the traffic would be even lighter. Once she got rid of the police, she and Bridget would head upstate and make sure their children did the right thing.

  The police had recognized Patrick’s old car once she’d crossed into Manhattan. She hadn’t noticed their flashing lights, but the sirens had finally gotten her attention. At first she thought it might have to do with the trash cans she’d mashed on her way out of the garage, but the officers hadn’t mentioned those. They’d just offered to see her safely to Central Park. They’d even called in two more officers, so she had motorcycles to the front of her and motorcycles to the rear. Almost like a celebrity. She hoped Bridget was looking out the window. She’d be some impressed, she would.

  ROSE AWOKE ONCE during the night and felt a cold nose against her cheek. It was not Daniel’s. With a chuckle, she drifted back to sleep. The gruff, tough cop was a softie at heart, and she loved it.

  The second time she awoke she smelled coffee—right under her nose. She opened her eyes and Daniel was passing a mug back and forth in front of her face, allowing the aroma to envelop her.

  She smiled at him. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, yourself.” He set the mug on the bedside table.

  She eased up on one elbow. “Where’s St. Paddy?”

  “Eating breakfast. And he’s been outside once already.”

  “Thank you, Daniel.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “You know, I probably dreamed this.” She gave him a sly look. “But I could have sworn there was a furry body between us on the pillow last night.”

  “It was a dream. I have that puppy firmly under my control.”

  “Uh-huh.” She took the mug from the table and sipped. “Mmm. Perfect. You’re spoiling me, you know. I usually just throw a teaspoon of instant into a nuked mug of water.”

  “Not while I’m around, you won’t. I’ve arrested people on less provocation than that.”

  She took another sip of the fragrant coffee and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. He was already dressed, but that could be remedied. “Did you bring your handcuffs, Officer?”

  He folded his arms over his chest and gave her a stern look. “First you want a hickey and now you’re talking handcuffs. Should I call in the vice squad, Rosie Kingsford?”

  “Only if you can’t handle the situation yourself.”

  He uncrossed his arms and approached the bed. “That sounded like a challenge.”

  “Are you up to it?”

  He took the mug and set it on the bedside table before pulling back the comforter and tumbling her back onto the mattress. “I would say so. Consider yourself under house arrest.” He pinned her beneath him.

  “Is this how you subdue all your prisoners?”

  “Only the sexy ones.” He shifted his weight enough to slide his hand between her thighs.

  Her breath caught as he began to explore and caress in a way that brought her to a fever pitch in no time. She pulled his head down. “Come here, you Irish stud.” As she kissed him she fumbled with the fastening of his jeans. He caught her wrist and held it, keeping her from her task.

  When she tried to twist out of his grip, he lifted his mouth from hers. “Don’t seduce the cook.”

  “You’re...cooking something?” she asked, breathing hard..

  “Yeah. It’s on low, but it’ll be ruined if
you get me involved in this little game. It’s supposed to be your show this time.”

  “I don’t care if the food’s ruined.”

  His breathing had also grown ragged as he gazed into her eyes. “You know what, you sexy wench? Neither do I.”

  With a laugh of triumph she started to unfasten his jeans, but he moved her hand away.

  “I can do it faster.”

  “Then do it, Daniel. Just do it.”

  And he did, marvelously. As he carried her to heights of passion she’d never known before, she barely noticed the smell of burned bacon drifting from the kitchen.

  “YOU EMBARRASSED ME half to death, coming up to the apartment house with that entourage,” Bridget said as Maureen drove along the shoulder of Highway 87 at forty miles an hour. “I thought the Pope himself had come to call.”

  “Oh, and I suppose you’re used to the Pope driving up to your door for afternoon tea?”

  “He might. It could happen.”

  Maureen gripped the wheel and concentrated on driving straight. “The day he wears underwear with shamrocks on it, I’d say.”

  “What are you thinking, talking about the Pope’s underwear! That’s plain sacrilegious.”

  “I never thought of it before, but do you suppose he wears briefs or boxers?”

  Bridget groaned. “I don’t want to consider the subject. Not for another instant.”

  “Boxers.”

  “I didn’t hear that. And get off the shoulder and into the lane, for heaven’s sake! You drive like an old lady.”

  “I do not! And you don’t drive at all, now, do you? So you can stuff a sock in it, Bridget Hogan. I’m in charge of this vehicle.”

  Bridget held her head in her hands. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. What have I gotten myself into?”

  “If I remember right, your daughter is at the center of it, so don’t be getting high and mighty with me. ’Tis your flesh and blood that’s created the whole shebang.”

  “I put it all down to MTV. It’s corrupted the morals of an entire generation. Maureen, you’ve simply got to drive faster. That man who just whizzed past made a very rude gesture at you.”

  “You mean he flipped me the Tweetie-bird, as Patrick used to say?”