LITMIR.BIZ

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obviously annoyed her. ‘Well, you know, it was kinda hard to hear with your music blaring.’

      He ignored the sarcasm, even though it humoured him. Maybe Miss Sad-Eyes had some spunk after all. ‘How long since you first heard it?’ This was important. This was really important.

      She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Five minutes? Maybe a little more?’

      His feet moved quickly. He grabbed for the jacket that hung behind the door and shoved his bare feet into his baseball boots.

      She stood up. ‘Where are you going? Don’t leave me alone. I don’t know the first thing about babies.’

      He turned to her. ‘Carrie, someone left this baby on our doorstep.’ His eyes went to the window, to the heavy snow falling on the window ledge as he slid his arms into his jacket. ‘Outside, there could be someone in trouble. Someone could be hurt. I need to go and check.’

      She bit her lip and glanced at the baby before giving a small cursory nod of her head. He stepped outside into the bitter cold, glancing both ways, trying to decide which way to go. There was nothing in the snow. Any tracks that had been left had been covered within minutes; the snow was falling thick and fast.

      He walked to the other side of the street and looked over at their building. Why here? Why had someone left their baby here?

      There were some lights on in the other apartment buildings on the street. But most of the lights were in the second or third storeys. Theirs was the only building with lights on in the first floor. It made sense. Someone had wanted this baby found quickly.

      He walked briskly down the street. Looking for anything—any sign, any clue. He ducked down a few alleyways, checking behind Dumpsters, looking in receded doorways.

      Nothing. Nobody.

      He turned and started back the other way. Checking the alleys on the other side of the street and in the opposite direction. His feet moving quickly through the sludgy snow.

      He should have stopped and pulled some socks on. The thin canvas of his baseball boots was soaked through already. The temperature must have dropped by several degrees since the sun had gone down. He’d only been out here a few minutes and already he was freezing.

      He looked up and his heart skipped a beat. Carrie was standing at his window, holding the baby in her arms. There was a look of pure desperation on her face—as if she were willing him to find the mother of this child.

      It was a sight he’d never expected to see. A woman, holding a child, in his apartment. She’d pulled up his blinds fully and the expanse of the apartment he called home was visible behind her. His large, lumpy but comfortable sofa. His grandmother’s old high-back chair. His kitchen table. His dresser unit. His kitchen worktop. The picture hanging above the fireplace.

      Something niggled at him. His apartment was his space. He’d rarely ever had a relationship that resulted in him ‘bringing someone over’. He could count on one hand the number of girlfriends who’d ever made it over his doorway. And even then it seemed to put them on an automatic countdown to disaster.

      He didn’t really do long-term relationships. Oh, he dated—but after a few months, once they started to get that hopeful look in their eyes, he always found a way to let them down gently. They eventually got the message. It was better that way.

      So seeing Carrie standing in his apartment with a baby in her arms took the wind clean out of his sails. The sooner all this was over with, the better.

      Still, she was cute. And even better—from London. She’d have no plans to stay around here. Maybe a little flirting to pass the time?

      He gave himself a little shake and had another look around. There was no one out here. The streets were completely empty.

      It was so funny being on the outside looking in. He loved his home. He cherished it. But he’d never really taken a moment to stand outside and stare in—to see what the world must see on their way past if he hadn’t pulled the blinds. His grandmother had left it to him in her will and he knew how lucky he was. There was no way a single guy on a cop’s salary could have afforded a place like this.

      But it was his. And he didn’t even owe anything on it. All he had to do was cover the bills.

      A little thought crept into his mind. He hadn’t quite pulled the blinds fully tonight. He just hadn’t gotten round to it. Was that why someone had left their baby here?

      Did they see into his home and think it would be a safe place to leave a baby?

      It sent a shudder down his spine. The thought that a few minutes ago someone could have been out here having those kind of thoughts.

      The snowfall was getting even heavier—he could barely see ten feet in front of him. This was pointless. He was never going to find any clues in this weather. He had to concentrate on the immediate. He had to concentrate on the baby.

      He hurried back into the apartment. Carrie turned to face him. ‘Nothing?’ The anxiety in her voice was obvious. Was she just a concerned citizen? Or was it something else?

      He shook his head and pulled off his jacket, hanging it back up behind the door.

      He walked over to where she was standing at the window and had another quick look out into the deserted street, searching for something, anything—a shadow, a movement. But there was nothing. Just the silence of the street outside.

      He stood next to her, watching the way she cradled the baby in her arms. She was holding the baby, but he could sense she was uneasy. She’d said she didn’t know the first thing about babies—well, neither did he. And in a snowstorm like this, it was unlikely they could get any help.

      Most of the people who stayed around here were professionals. He couldn’t think of a single family that stayed on this street. There were a couple of older people who had lived here for years. Mrs Van Dyke upstairs, but her family had long since moved away. There really wasn’t anyone they could call on for help.

      He watched her. The way her blue eyes were fixed on the face of the baby, still swaddled in its blanket. It was then he noticed the way her arms were trembling. It was slight—ever so slight. Making her chestnut curls waver and the pink flush of her cheeks seem heated.

      She was beautiful. Now that he was close enough to take a good look at her, Carrie McKenzie was beautiful. Even if she didn’t know it herself. Even with the realm of sadness in her blue eyes. He wondered what they looked like when they were happy. Did they sparkle, like the sun glinting off a turquoise-blue sea?

      They were standing too close. He was sure his warm breath must be dancing across her skin. He could smell the orange scent of her bath oils, still present on her skin. He liked it. It was nicer than the cloying scent of some perfumes that women wore. The ones that prickled your nose from the other side of the room. This was like a warm summer’s day. Here, in his living room, in the middle of a snowstorm in New York.

      She looked up at him with those sad blue eyes. She didn’t pull away from him. She didn’t seem to think he had invaded her personal space. It was quite unnerving. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a beautiful woman in his apartment—and certainly not one in her nightwear.

      A smile danced across his face. If he’d ever pictured a woman in his apartment in her nightwear it certainly hadn’t been in fluffy pyjamas and bed socks. She blinked and it snapped him out of his wayward thoughts and back to the current situation.

      ‘I don’t even know your name,’ she whispered.

      Wow. He hadn’t even introduced himself. What kind of a New Yorker was he that his neighbour didn’t even know his name? His grandma would kill him for his lack of manners and hospitality.

      Why hadn’t he ever introduced himself? Was it because he was so used to the constant flow of traffic up above him that he hadn’t thought it worth his while? The thought shamed him. Because this woman definitely looked as if she could do with a friend. ‘Dan. Daniel Cooper.’

      ‘Daniel,’

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