after she’d just been holding another baby?
It almost seemed like a betrayal.
She ran the palm of her hand over the lid of the box. Just doing it made her heartbeat quicken. She could feel the threat of tears at the backs of her eyes.
She couldn’t think about this now. She just couldn’t.
Steam was starting to emerge from the bathroom. The shower was beckoning. She couldn’t open the box. Not now. Not while she was in the middle of all this.
For the contents of that box she needed space. She needed time.
She needed the ability to cry where no one could hear. No one could interrupt.
She sucked air into her lungs. Not now. She had to be strong. She had to be focused. Her hand moved again—one last final touch of the silver box of memories—before she tore herself away and headed inside, closing the door firmly behind her.
* * *
There was a whimper in the corner. Dan’s pancakes were sizzling; was the noise going to wake the baby? He sure hoped not. He didn’t know if he could take another cryfest.
The television newscaster looked tired. He’d probably been stuck inside the New York studio all night. The yellow information strip ran along the bottom of the news constantly. Telling them how much snow had fallen, how the city was stranded, all businesses were closed, food supplies couldn’t get in. Nothing about how to look after a newborn baby.
It was time to do an internet search again. They must have done something wrong last night. There was no way a baby would cry like that for nothing. At least he hoped not.
He tossed the pancakes and his stomach growled loudly. He was starving and they smelled great.
A jar of raspberry jam landed on the counter next to him. She was back. And she smelled like wild flowers—even better than pancakes.
‘What’s that for?’
‘The pancakes.’
‘Jelly?’ He shook his head. ‘Pancakes need bacon and maple syrup. That’s what a real pancake wants.’
She opened his fridge. ‘Pancakes need butter and raspberry jam. It’s the only way to eat them.’
He wrinkled his nose, watching as she flicked on the kettle.
‘And tea. Pancakes need tea.’
He grimaced. ‘You might be out of luck, then. I’ve only got extra-strong coffee.’
She waved a bag at him. ‘Just as well I brought my own, then.’
Dan served the pancakes onto two plates and carried them over to the table, pulling some syrup from his empty cupboards and lifting the brewing coffee pot. ‘I can’t tempt you, then?’
Something flickered in her eyes. Something else. Something different. She gave him a hesitant smile. ‘I’m an English girl. It’s tea and butter and jam all the way.’
They both knew that the flirtation was continuing.
And right now he wanted to tempt her. The cop in him wanted to forget about the mountain of paperwork he’d need to complete about this baby. The cop in him wanted to forget about the investigation that would have to be carried out.
The guy in him wanted to concentrate on the woman in the lovely blue sweater sitting at his table with her jar of raspberry jam. He wanted to reach over to touch the curls that were coiling around her face, springing free from the clip that was trying to hold them back. He wanted to see if he could say something to make her cheeks flush even pinker than they currently were. He wanted a chance to stare into those cornflower-blue eyes and ask her what she was hiding from him. What she was guarding herself from.
He lifted the maple syrup and squirted it onto his pancakes. She was concentrating on spreading butter on her pancakes smoothly and evenly with one hand while stirring her tea with the other hand.
He’d opened the blinds partly to let a little natural light into the apartment. And seeing Carrie McKenzie in the cold light of day was more than just a little shock to his system.
The girl was beautiful. From the little sprinkle of freckles over her nose to the way she wrinkled her brow when she was concentrating.
He’d felt a pull towards her last night, when he’d seen her in the dim lights of his apartment. But now he had a chance to look at her—to really look at her—and all he could think about was why on earth he hadn’t noticed her before.
How on earth could he have stayed in an apartment building with someone so incredibly pretty and not have noticed? He could just imagine the cops at the station if they ever got wind of that.
Carrie put a teaspoon into the jam jar and spread some jam onto her pancakes. ‘Are you going to watch me eat them, too?’ she asked, a smile spreading across her face.
He jerked backwards in his seat. ‘Sorry. I was just thinking.’
‘About Abraham?’
Wow. No, Abraham was the last thing he’d been thinking about, and as if in indignation there was a squawk from the crib. Dan set down his cutlery, gave a sigh and waved his hand at her as she went to stand up. ‘Stay where you are—you’re still eating. I’m finished. Maybe he’s hungry again. I sterilised the bottles so we should be fine.’
It was amazing how quickly you could learn to make a baby bottle. A few minutes later he lifted Abraham from the crib and settled him onto his shoulder for a bit.
‘Carrie? Does he look okay to you? What do you think about his colour?’
She set down her mug of tea and walked over. ‘It’s kind of hard to tell.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘We don’t really know anything about the ethnicity of his parents, so I’m not entirely sure what normal will look like for him.’
She walked over to the window and pulled the blinds up completely. ‘Bring him over here so I can get a better look at him.’
Dan carried him over and they stood for a few seconds looking at him in the daylight. ‘He looks a tiny bit yellow, don’t you think?’
She nodded. ‘Jaundice. Isn’t it supposed to be quite common in newborns?’
He gave her that smile again. The why-are-you-asking-me-something-I-couldn’t-possibly-know smile.
They both glanced at the computer. Carrie took a few seconds to punch in the words and then—nothing.
She turned towards him. ‘Looks like your internet has just died.’
‘Really? It’s usually really reliable. Must be the weather.’
She stared out the window. ‘It must be something to do with the snow. I hope the power supply doesn’t get hokey. That sometimes happens in storms back home.’
He looked at her with an amused expression on his face. ‘Hokey?’
She
