inside? I’d like to say hello to him, since he’s here.” He threw her a crooked smile as he reached past her to open the door, but she couldn’t help but notice the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
She squeezed back against the door frame as he brushed past her, then followed him into the kitchen, breathless, her heart pounding in her belly, fear squeezing her insides. “Dad-wait-please let me explain…”
He paused a moment to look at her, and the hurt in his face felt worse than a slap. “Honey, you’re a grown woman. Why do you feel you need to explain?”
She opened her mouth to reply-with what, she didn’t know-but he was moving past her again, striding purposefully through the kitchen and into the hallway. All she could do was follow, while her heart seemed bent on pummeling its way out of her chest.
In the hallway she nearly slammed into her father, who had stopped dead in the middle of it. Looking past him, she saw Alan standing at the top of the stairs. He was shirtless, and drying his dripping wet hair with a towel.
Air gusted from her lungs. She managed to gasp out, “This isn’t what it looks like, Dad.” She felt an absurd impulse to giggle.
He turned his head to look at her, his expression quizzical. “Honey, like I said, you’re a grown woman. The only thing I can’t quite understand, is why
Now she did laugh. A nervous and guilty titter that almost eclipsed Alan’s, “Oh-good to see you, sir. Just stopped by-”
“To pick up the dollhouse,” She finished, then stopped, fingertips pressed to her lips.
Where had that come from? She had no idea. She was shocked, shaking inside, and at the same time felt absurdly pleased with herself-quite exhilarated. Realizing the two men were both staring at her in what appeared to be uncomprehending silence, she rushed on.
“Daddy, I didn’t want you to know I was giving away your dollhouse. I didn’t want you to think… I’m sorry, Daddy, I know you made it for me, and I love it, but it’s just been sitting there.” When had she become such a good liar? And yet, it was perfect, so perfect she wondered if the idea had been there in her subconscious all along. “And Chelsea enjoyed it so, and I just thought…”
“No, no, no-honey, it’s perfectly all right.” Her dad’s voice sounded relieved, and his arms were around her, gathering her into his familiar embrace. She buried her face in his shoulder and breathed in the familiar smells of Bay Rum and Tide detergent and the faintest hint of the single beer he’d probably enjoyed with Evan Norwood in lieu of lunch. “I made that dollhouse for you, honey, it’s yours to do with as you please. And although I’d always hoped I’d live to see my grandkids enjoy it, if you want to give it to a little girl who will love it and play with it the way you used to, that’s okay with me.”
Lindsey lifted her head from his shoulder. Through a tear shimmer she could see Alan at the top of the stairs, absently mopping water droplets from his chest and staring down at her with a bemused look on his face. She drew a breath and sniffed. “Daddy, are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” He gave her a little shake as he moved her to arm’s length and said severely, “And you should know that about your dad. Now, you go and gather up all the little pieces, and I’ll give Alan a hand carrying that monster down the stairs.”
She nodded, only half paying attention. Now that the crisis appeared to have passed and disaster averted, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the spectacle of Alan, naked to the waist. She couldn’t help but notice he was pretty impressive, even for Southern California, land of compulsive joggers and workout addicts.
“Hope it was okay, my borrowing your bathroom.” Alan’s voice, speaking to her father as he climbed toward him up the stairs, brought her to her senses. She closed her mouth and cleared her throat self-consciously as he went on, “I’ve been at a crime scene all morning. You know…didn’t feel good about touching anything until I’d washed up a bit.”
He smiled crookedly, and Lindsey watched her father clap him on the shoulder and say warmly, “Son, that’s quite all right. You’re welcome here anytime.”
“Just give me a minute to get my shirt on. I sure do appreciate this. Chelsea is going to go nuts when she sees that dollhouse. It’s awfully kind of you and Lindsey-not to mention generous…”
The voices trailed off as the two men disappeared into the upstairs hallway, and Lindsey was left, as she seemed to be so often these days, with a childish urge to cry. She was turning into an emotional wreck, she thought, always feeling like a little girl, sick to her stomach at the thought of disappointing her daddy. Something about having her belief in her parents shaken, she supposed. Particularly a parent who had always been the rock she’d depended on, the pillar of strength, security and stability in her life.
“Oh, grow up, Lindsey,” she muttered to herself as she almost ran up the stairs in her dad’s wake. When she reached the top she could hear the two men talking farther down, somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom. From the sound of things, it appeared Alan was showing Dad his weapon.
Anger came almost as a relief. She made a disgusted sound and stormed into her old room, where she blew off steam gathering up the dolls and accessories that went with the dollhouse and packing them into a beach bag she found in her old closet. She didn’t even look at the two men when they came in to pick up the unwieldy dollhouse, laughing together and conversing in monosyllables the way men do when they’re involved in a task requiring joint effort. But she was seething. She wanted to scream at Alan:
But she kept her face averted so they wouldn’t see the anger.
She went down the stairs ahead of the house movers. By the time they had the dollhouse wrestled into the back of Alan’s SUV, she had herself under control and was able to give her dad his usual goodbye kiss on the cheek. He hugged her and shook Alan’s hand, then waved them off and went back in the house.
Watching him go, Lindsey thought he looked older, suddenly. Old and…unbearably lonely.
Alan opened the driver’s side door of his SUV and took out his jacket, gave it a shake before shrugging into it and adjusting it over the holstered weapon at his hip. Once more fully clad, he looked at Lindsey and said quietly, “You don’t have to do this. I can take the dollhouse to your place-I guess you can leave it there, can’t you?”
She shook her head. Her chest felt tight, and her voice showed it. “I want Chelsea to have it. It’s time somebody played with it. It deserves to be played with.”
He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath with a little gust of laughter. “Well, I’m sure it will be. And I have to say, it was a brilliant idea. I’m impressed.”
“It was a lot better than yours,” she said hotly. “What was that business with the towel? No shirt? Please.”
At least he had the grace to look a
She snorted. “You know, you do seem to have a certain lack of imagination in these circumstances. How come all of your ‘spur of the moment’ ideas seem to involve sex?”
He burst out laughing, and said with an unexpectedly endearing shrug, “Hey, I’m a guy, what can I say?”
And somehow she discovered that her anger had evaporated, and now she couldn’t help but smile. For a long moment she just looked at him, and he looked back at her. Words they’d both spoken-
She wondered if she might have made a sound-an involuntary gasp, perhaps-because Alan gave a slight start and said abruptly, “Better be going. I’ll start looking into cold cases, now that we have an idea where to start. I’ll let you know if I find anything that looks promising.”
He was about to get into his car. She said, through stiff lips, “Better kiss me goodbye. Dad’s probably watching.”
He nodded-grimly, as if faced with an unpleasant task. She stepped closer, steeling herself. He reached out and hooked his hand around the back of her neck, pulled her to him and kissed her, roughly and hard.
She felt the firm and vibrant shape of his mouth, the faint rasp of his half-day’s beard, the strength of his hand
