One Mom Too Many Read online

  “Remarkable.” Rose moved to the next item on her mental list. “You have to be in pretty good shape to get on the police force, don’t you?” The table on the other side of the planter had become totally silent, and Rose could almost hear her mother listening to every syllable. Bridget was no dummy. She’d figured out why her daughter was taking this tack with Maureen. And she hated it.

  “Indeed, you must be in good shape to get on the force,” Maureen said. “But ’tis no problem for my Daniel. He inherited my good eyesight and he can do those pushups like nobody’s business. He’s in grand condition.”

  I would say so, Rose thought with admiration.

  A warning hiss of breath came from beyond the leaves.

  “Daniel is everything I would want in a son, except for one thing,” Maureen said.

  Rose set down her teacup and waited to hear the worst. Some inherited family disease, perhaps. Or maybe Daniel was gay and Maureen hoped Rose could turn him around.

  The words came out in a rush. “He’s thirty-three, and I say ’tis high time for him to settle down with some nice girl, but he says he won’t do that until he makes detective, like my Patrick did, and when I ask him when that will be, he says not while he’s having such a grand time riding with the mounted patrol unit.” Maureen heaved a sigh and took a large bite of a muffin.

  The litany sounded familiar to Rose. Her own mother’s lectures ran along similar lines, except that Rose hadn’t held out any hope to her mother about a day in the future when she’d get married. She just couldn’t see the likelihood of it.

  “’Tis the scar,” Maureen said, regarding Rose with a hopeful expression. “Some lass needs to teach him not to be self-conscious about it. That would do the trick.”

  Rose doubted the scar had anything to do with Daniel being marriage-shy. He probably just wasn’t ready to settle down, which made him a perfect candidate for her plan. But Maureen deserved a measure of honesty. “If you’re looking for someone with marriage on her mind, I’m the wrong person, Mrs. O’Malley.”

  “You don’t fancy Daniel?”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m just not interested in marriage.”

  “Then you do fancy him!”

  “My goodness, what woman in her right mind wouldn’t, Mrs. O’Malley?”

  Maureen smiled with motherly satisfaction. “Lovely. That’s a start.” Pulling a stubby pencil and a scrap of paper from her purse, she scribbled on it and shoved it across the table toward Rose. “’Tis his phone number, if you’d like to call him. I’m willing to take my chances on the rest.”

  “Thank you. I will call him.”

  The groan through the dieffenbachia was barely muffled, as if Rose’s mother was truly beside herself and no longer cared about detection.

  Maureen shot a glance at the planter before leaning closer to Rose. “Should we do something? She sounds as if she’s in mortal pain, she does. We could —”

  “No, I don’t think we should do anything,” Rose said quickly. The last thing she wanted was for Maureen to discover Bridget and ruin everything. “From what I’ve read on the subject, you will only make them worse if you comment on their mental state.”

  “I think I’ll just visit the Ladies, then, and take a look at her on the way, just to make sure she’s not foaming at the mouth.”

  Figuratively, she probably was, Rose thought. “Just take care not to disturb her further,” she cautioned Maureen.

  “Right.”

  Rose held her breath as Maureen made her way through the tearoom, but there was no surprised exclamation of recognition. The secret was safe for another few minutes.

  “I know what you’re up to!” Bridget said in a stage whisper. “Don’t think I don’t, Rose Erin Kingsford!”

  Rose spoke in an undertone. “Mom, what’s wrong with me wanting to go out with someone as cute as Daniel? Did you see him?”

  “I saw him, all right. And you looking him up and down, like a mouse eyeing a wheel of cheese. And those questions you were asking, like he was on the auction block.”

  “He probably won’t even go out with me after this incident with his mother.”

  “I have half a mind to reveal myself to Maureen. That would put the brakes on your little scheme, now, wouldn’t it?”

  Rose decided to call her bluff. “Go ahead. So I won’t get a date with a cute guy. So what else is new?”

  “I should. I really should. Here she comes, back from the Ladies.”

  “Then you have your chance, don’t you?”

  “Mutton dressed as lamb,” Bridget muttered.

  Rose braced herself, but nothing happened.

  Maureen sat down again and leaned toward Rose before pointing toward the planter. “I’ve figured out her problem,” she whispered. “You know that old movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”

  Rose nodded.

  “That poor woman over there, who must be my age if she’s a day, thinks she’s playing the part in that picture. She thinks she’s Audrey Hepburn.”

  Rose bit her lip to keep from laughing. Her mother wouldn’t reveal herself in a million years after a remark like that. Maybe, just maybe, the date with Daniel O’Malley wasn’t out of the question, after all.

  UNLIKE HIS MOTHER, Daniel believed in answering machines. The next day when he arrived at his apartment after his shift, the message light on his answering machine was blinking, and he had a very good idea why. His mother had already told him that Rose Kingsford planned to call. They’d had quite a row about it, in fact. He winced as he remembered telling his own dear mother in no uncertain terms to get the hell out of his love life.

  She’d promised to do that, but it was like closing the barn door after the horse escaped.

  After changing into jeans and a sweatshirt, he made himself a corned-beef sandwich and opened a beer. He switched on the news and began to eat, all the while keeping an eye on that blinking red light and trying to imagine why Rose Kingsford was bothering with him. According to his mother, Rose “fancied” him, but then he didn’t put much stock in anything his mother said about Rose.

  He still couldn’t believe that his mother had tracked down the model in the picture frame, arranged a meeting and then lured him there by pretending she wanted to have a cozy teatime chat, mother-and-son. Daniel hadn’t realized how much of a rein his father must have kept on his mother. She would never have tried such a stunt while Patrick O’Malley was around. But lately she was acting like some...some teenager.

  Finishing his sandwich and beer, Daniel wandered over to the living-room window of his small flat and stared out at the evening traffic below him. Moments such as this were somewhat lonely, but he was willing to pay that price. The first time he’d had to notify an officer’s wife of the death of her husband, he’d vowed to do everything he could to avoid putting a woman through that. In a couple of years he’d seriously pursue a promotion that would take him out of the line of fire, and then maybe he’d consider finding a wife. On his own, without his mother’s interference.

  Her subdued reaction to his tirade told him she’d finally understood the line she must not cross again. But she’d left a loose end dangling, and he might as well deal with it now.

  Turning from the window, he walked over to the answering machine and pushed the playback button. Rose Kingsford’s voice came dancing from the speaker, with a lilt he would have recognized as hers even without her first identifying statement.

  “Hi, Daniel. This is Rose Kingsford.”

  Rose Kingsford. Rose—a perfect name for a woman with laughing eyes, an upturned nose, a dusting of freckles, fiery hair and a smile that could swell a man’s heart or rip it to shreds. Amazing how indelibly her image remained in his mind after more than twenty-four hours, when he’d only seen her for a few moments. Two armed robberies, an attempted rape and a four-car pileup should have erased the face of Rose Kingsford from his memory. But he could close his eyes and she was right in front of him, her hand so soft and delicate as she placed it in h
is....

  “We got off to rather an unfortunate start. Perhaps if we met for dinner, we could repair the damage. I’m free on Tuesday night at seven.” Then she named a little Italian restaurant in the Village.

  Tuesday night was his first night off next week, and he was particularly fond of good Italian food — pieces of information his mother must have passed on. But the idea of Rose and his mother conspiring to rob him of his bachelor status just didn’t make sense. Daniel had asked a couple of people today, and the consensus seemed to be that a successful model pulled down at least a hundred grand a year, most likely more. Somebody who looked like Rose and made that kind of money wouldn’t be interested in the matchmaking schemes of some little Irish woman from Brooklyn.

  So what did Rose want of Daniel O’Malley? Or worse yet, what outrageous stories had his mother told that had convinced Rose to take pity on him and invite him to dinner? He could let the whole thing go, of course, and leave the questions unanswered.

  Like hell he could.

  IN A SECLUDED BOOTH on a rainy Tuesday night Rose. watched the flame flicker in the small oil lamp centered on the checkered tablecloth. Her stomach was in knots, although she’d certainly asked men out on dates before. After all, this was the nineties, and she wasn’t the sort of shrinking violet who hung back and waited for some man to make the first move. But this was different. The outcome of this meeting could change her entire life.

  She’d decided that no man would react well to a frank statement that she considered him the perfect candidate to father her child. Some men might be flattered, but they wouldn’t be the type she’d want. Others would be pleased at the idea of a one-night stand, but she also didn’t want that kind. She didn’t think Daniel fit in either category. Therefore, she’d have to handle the matter with great delicacy.

  The timing couldn’t have been better. Renovations were complete on her little cottage upstate, and two rural New York papers had agreed to carry her comic strip, “St. Paddy and Flynn.” She figured she was less than a year from ending her modeling career and working full-time on the strip, less than a year from settling into the country life she’d yearned for nearly all her life, it seemed. Pregnancy would push her into the decision to turn down future modeling jobs, and she would welcome the shove.

  Of course Daniel might not show up tonight. She’d left the invitation on his answering machine without requiring an R.S.V.P. It was a calculated risk, but one that gave him the kind of leeway she’d thought necessary. It was the sort of gesture she’d have appreciated, in his shoes.

  She glanced at her watch. Five minutes past seven. Her stomach lurched at the thought that he really might not come. Somehow her instincts had told her he would. She caught the eye of a waiter and ordered a glass of Chianti.

  By seven-thirty she’d finished the wine, even though she’d sipped it very slowly. On an empty stomach, it had made her light-headed. And more than a little irritated. Sure, she hadn’t forced him to respond to her invitation, but if he really hadn’t meant to show he might have had the courtesy to notify her. Maybe a man who looked like Daniel had so many invitations he could afford to stand up several women a week. Maybe her precious instincts had been off somewhere napping when Daniel had arrived on the scene and simple lust had blinded her to his arrogant nature.

  Well, she was sick of the pitying looks she kept getting from the waiter, who’d stopped by several times to inquire about whether she’d like to go ahead and order a meal. She was sick of sitting here waiting for some fellow who was so full of himself he took women’s dinner invitations for granted. She was, finally and completely, sick of men in general. Maybe a sperm bank was the answer, after all.

  Leaving money on the table for her wine and the time she’d spent in the booth, she gathered her trench coat and purse from the seat beside her. After shoving her arms angrily into the sleeves, she pushed her way out the restaurant door into the rain, where she started searching for a cab. Every one that sailed past her was occupied.

  “Perfect. Just perfect,” she muttered.

  “Rose!”

  When she heard her name, her heartbeat clicked into high gear. She turned and saw Daniel running toward her, his feet splashing through puddles in total abandon, as if he cared nothing for getting soaked so long as he reached her before she left. Instantly her anger evaporated, but she thought it prudent to retain some show of indignation.

  “Rose, I’m so sorry.” His breath came out in great clouds as he loped up beside her. “The cab got in a wreck about four blocks from here. Tourists in a Ford Tempo ran into him. Then when they discovered I was a cop...well, I had a devil of a time getting out of there.” He paused. “I suppose you’ve eaten and are ready to go home.”

  She’d meant to chastise him for making her wait, but she was mesmerized with the way raindrops clung to his dark lashes. Then he blinked and one drop shook loose to run down the side of his nose and over to the corner of his mouth. She reached up and brushed it away. Then she glanced up into his eyes. There was the look she’d wished for when she’d seen him in the tearoom, the look that could melt a woman’s heart.

  Gently he pushed a damp tendril from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “You’re getting wet.”

  “So are you.”

  His gaze caressed her face as he slid his hand over the nape of her neck. “It’s only rain.”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears as she recognized the touch of a man who understood how to arouse a woman. What he was about to do was audacious, and all the more thrilling because of that. “I guess you’re used to...the elements,” she said.

  “I’ll tell you something, Rose.” He leaned closer, his brown eyes warm with intent. “The elements never looked quite like this.” Then, as the rain pattered all around them, he kissed her.

  3

  IN FOR A PENNY, in for a pound, Daniel thought as he took possession of Rose’s moist, completely irresistible mouth. As a fact-finding mission, it wasn’t a bad move. As he explored her velvet lips he learned several things — she tasted of honey and wine, she had the most responsive mouth he’d ever been fortunate enough to kiss, and he was trembling like a sapling in the wind from the excitement they generated together.

  He had no idea how long he might have stood there enjoying the heated pleasure of kissing Rose, indifferent to the drizzle falling steadily on them, if a car hadn’t whizzed through a puddle in the street beside them. The water hit them with enough velocity to awaken them from their daze. They broke apart and stared at each other in shock, as though just now realizing what had happened between them.

  Rose started laughing first, and the sound filled the rainsoaked air with such delight that before Daniel realized it, he was laughing, too. His shoes, relatively new, were ruined, and God knew if he’d ever get the mud stains out of his slacks. He didn’t care.

  “Let’s go inside and get some pasta,” she said.

  “And more of that wine.”

  “Wine?”

  “I could taste it.”

  “Oh.” Her cheeks grew even pinker.

  A maidenly blush. He was enchanted out of his mind. He took her elbow and propelled her toward the restaurant to keep himself from making an indecent proposal and luring her back to his flat this very minute. He still didn’t know what Rose Kingsford wanted with him, but he was getting some idea of what he wanted with her.

  The restaurant was almost deserted as they dripped their way back to a booth. A teenaged boy appeared from the kitchen to follow them with a rag mop, and Daniel turned and gave him a tip. Then he took off his jacket and handed it to the waiter who appeared at their table. He suggested Rose do the same. “Can you find a place to hang these where they can dry?” he asked the waiter.

  “Sure thing.”

  “And bring a bottle of wine, the same kind she had before.”

  “You couldn’t tell what kind it was?” Rose teased as the waiter left.

  “It was Chianti, but I didn’t want to show off.” Then
he adjusted the little oil lamp so he could look at her. He had a feeling the activity could absorb his attention for some time.

  She leaned her chin on her fist and seemed to be copying his behavior. “So you decided to come, after all.”

  “Can’t resist a good Italian meal, but then I guess you know that.”

  She smiled.

  He pretended to shield his eyes from the brilliance. “You know, you should have that thing registered. Could cause blindness.”

  Her smile broadened into a chuckle.

  He grinned back, inordinately pleased with himself. Even though he knew rationally that she smiled for a living, he decided he would kid himself that this one had been for him and him alone. “Besides my fondness for Italian food and what nights I’m off duty, what did my mother tell you about me?”

  A secret sparkle lurked in her green eyes.

  “Come on, let’s have it.”

  “Am I being interrogated?”

  “You bet your sweet shamrocks. No telling what that woman’s been spreading around town in hopes of getting me to the altar.” He regarded her intently and took a deep breath. Honesty was called for. “In spite of what just happened outside, I’m not in the market for a wife, Rose.”

  “She told me that.”

  “No doubt she had some twisted version of why that is.”

  She remained silent, but the dancing light in her eyes told him that Maureen had indeed made up some woolly tale that explained his single status.

  “Whatever it is, it’s not true,” he said. “I’m single because that’s what I choose to be right now.”

  “Same here.”

  He fell backward against the booth in feigned shock. “What? No arguments about the blissful wedded state?”

  “I have no interest in getting married, either.”

  “Does my sainted mother know this singular fact about you?”