LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Four

      Rachel hadn’t been kidding when she suggested the doc enter a wet T-shirt contest, assuming such things existed for guys. With that shirt stuck to his chest and his hair as rumpled as if he’d just tumbled out of bed, he made her blood race.

      “Thanks again for pulling me out of the drink,” she said as she drove him home.

      “No problem.” His tone was subdued.

      Where were his thoughts, anyway? If fate had a trace of mercy, they’d be focused on her. Normally, Rachel loathed having some guy rescue her butt, and that included the occasions when she and her fellow trainees had taken turns during Police Academy. But even in her dazed state—or maybe because of it—she’d gotten a rush when Russ hoisted her from the pool.

      Strong masculine arms encircling her. Warm contact dissolving the chill. He smelled good, too.

      Under other circumstances, Rachel might have contemplated the possibility of making love to the guy, but this wasn’t Joe Six-Pack. This guy did funny things to her nervous system, and his sophistication intimidated her a little. Getting involved might mean more than she was ready to handle.

      All the same, no point in parting prematurely when they could be enjoying each other’s company. “So, you got plans for the rest of the night?” she asked.

      Russ tore his gaze from the passenger window and frowned at the clock on her dash. “Is that accurate? My watch died. I thought it was later.”

      In February, evenings always seemed longer due to the early darkness. “Yeah, it’s nine-fifteen. Kinda early to ditch a party, but you seemed antsy.”

      At the party they’d viewed a DVD and part of a Lakers game, and had a go at the video console. When she’d noticed Russ’s concentration lagging, Rachel had suggested they decamp.

      “Do you suppose it’s too late to place a phone call?” he asked. “I meant to wait till tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep.”

      Aha, a clue to his preoccupation. “Depends on the time zone.” Unable to contain her curiosity, she added, “May I ask who?” A girlfriend, perhaps. Might as well hear the bad news sooner than later.

      “Ex-girlfriend,” he responded.

      The “ex” part appealed to Rachel. But if the woman was truly out of the picture, Russ wouldn’t be planning to call her on a Saturday night, would he? “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

      To her right, at the old pickling plant, she observed a shadow moving and was about to slow down for a better look when a dog trotted into the lamplight. A short distance off, someone whistled, and the pooch dashed away.

      To some cops, off-duty meant blind, deaf and dumb except in cases of dire peril. Rachel’s instincts, however, refused to hibernate on command.

      “Do you know much about children?” the doc inquired. If the question related to his ex-girlfriend, he didn’t explain the connection.

      “I volunteer at the local homework center. I did a lot of baby-sitting growing up, too.” Rachel waited for enlightenment. This had to be leading somewhere.

      “How do you imagine you’d react if…” Russ hesitated. “What I’m about to say is confidential, okay?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Suppose you’d had a baby girl and given her up for adoption, and then the adoptive parents died and there you were, raising this kid,” he ventured. “Suddenly your ex-boyfriend shows up and says he intends to be part of his daughter’s life. How would you react?”

      Rachel didn’t hesitate. “Depends on the guy. If he was an abusive jerk, I’d seek a restraining order.”

      “What if he was a decent guy who really cared about being a father?”

      Did Russ mean…himself? “I’m not good with imaginary scenarios.” Another point occurred to her. “Anyway, if adoptive parents die, the care doesn’t revert to the birth mom.”

      Ahead, Rachel observed a van weaving in its lane and was glad when it swung into an apartment parking lot. Home for the night, she hoped.

      Russ cleared his throat. “You’ve probably realized by now that the father is me.”

      Well, that certainly erased all doubt. “How did this come about?”

      “Janine got pregnant while I was an intern, five years ago.” Warming to the subject, he described the decision to relinquish a child named Lauren and how he’d just learned of her grandparents’ deaths. “I have no idea what Janine’s plans are or whether there’s another guy in the picture. Frankly, that isn’t my concern. I simply want to meet my daughter and make sure she’s okay.”

      Kind of late for that, sniped the rejected child inside Rachel. Still, in fairness, the infant hadn’t been old enough to miss her parents, and she’d gone to a loving family.

      “My family takes in foster kids, so I grew up around them.” She saw no reason to trot out any additional personal details. “Here’s my opinion—she needs stability as much as love. So if you’re going to put in an appearance, you’d better be prepared to follow through.”

      “That’s a good point.”

      Russ resumed his window staring as she navigated into his housing development. Reaching the cul-de-sac, Rachel again noticed the coziness of his cottage. This guy must have been acting on nesting instincts even before he learned of the grandparents’ demise.

      She hoped her remarks hadn’t discouraged him. The girl could do far worse than to gain a father like Russ. “Go for it,” she advised as the car halted.

      “What? Oh. Fine.” He reached for the door handle.

      “I wasn’t trying to boot you out!” She hurried to clarify. “I meant, don’t let Janine give you the brush-off. Drop by her place. Show that you’ve matured.” Painfully, Rachel concluded, “If you guys were in love once, maybe there’s something left.”

      Pale moonlight traced the angles of his cheeks. “We weren’t in love. I’d been exhausting myself as an intern, and Janine was a business grad student with big ambitions.

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