like his tone. An uneasiness began to weave itself through her. She could feel herself growing very protective of Josiah. “What is it you’re thinking?”
Adam shrugged. He couldn’t very well come out and tell her what he was thinking. “Just wondering how he made his money, that’s all.”
That wasn’t all. She was willing to bet on it. “The old-fashioned way,” she answered tersely.
He’d annoyed her. That wasn’t his intention. Adam backtracked and guessed teasingly, “He stole it?
Printed it?”
“He earned it. Josiah was some kind of a businessman before he retired.”
“What kind of business?” he asked casually.
“I don’t know. But he did a lot of traveling, I know that. And when he did, he’d board the dogs with my dad.” She drew in a breath, then let it out again slowly as she regarded the table over her bed and the check that was inside the drawer. “But I still can’t accept a check that large.”
“Sure you can.” He saw the look that came into her eyes. She probably thought he wanted to use it. “Still don’t trust me, do you?”
“You have to admit, it’s a little hard.” Especially when one minute Adam was all but accusing Josiah of being a robber baron, the next he’s pushing her to take the money the man had given her. Just which way was Adam leaning? And why?
Adam inclined his head. “I can see how you might feel that way,” he allowed.
And if you ever find out the rest of it, you really won’t trust me.
Knowing how she might react if she found out the truth weighed him down. He found himself wishing that he could just be himself, in a position to tell her he was a law enforcement officer. But it was the undercover work that got drugs off the streets and provided the information that sent the dealers and suppliers to prison. He had to remember the game plan—and it didn’t include falling for a civilian.
“Josiah didn’t seem like the kind of man who would take kindly to having his gifts refused,” Adam continued out loud. “If you don’t want to use it for the baby, you can always donate the money he gave you to a charity—anonymously or even in Turner’s name.”
“To a charity,” Eve repeated, rolling the idea over in her mind. She had to admit that Adam had come up with a decent, win-win suggestion. She knew that Josiah meant well, but she was hardly in a bad way. Her father’s practice was a very established one and she could more than afford to take good care of her new daughter with the income she generated.
Adam’s smile was encouraging. If only it wasn’t so damn sensual, she thought. “Yes,” he said. “To a charity.”
She raised her eyes to his. “And not to you.”
That caught him up short. But then, what did he expect? She thought he was a drug dealer. Reformed or not, that didn’t exactly put him in the same league with martyrs and saints. And philanthropists.
“Why would you think that?” he asked.
“Because I’m not exactly all that clear about who or what you are.”
The situation pained him more than he would have ever expected, but he could do nothing about it—at least, not yet. After this sting went down, then maybe he could tell her some things. Not everything, but enough to make her understand that he wasn’t the devil assuming a pleasant form.
“Since that seems to be a stumbling block for you, why don’t we just set that aside for the time being?” he suggested. “Let’s just leave it at my wanting to come by to give you those.” He nodded at the roses in the pitcher. “And to see how you were doing.”
He sounded as if he was about to go. “You’re leaving?”
It was better that way, he thought. For both of them. “I’ve got to get back to the store,” he told her. “The sales clerk I hired might feel a little overwhelmed being in the store alone for so long.”
“Oh? Doesn’t he or she like books?” She was stalling, but who knew if she’d see him again once he walked out that door. Suddenly she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
“She,” Adam specified. “And she doesn’t like books, she loves them. That’s just the trouble. Jennifer’s busy reading instead of assisting customers.” He laughed shortly. Now that the woman had organized everything, she’d dived right into worshipful reading. “She’s practically ignoring them because they’re cutting into her reading time.”
He’d already asked Hugh to send him someone from the department to act as an assistant, in case he had to quickly “take care of business” during normal work hours. Hugh had told him he’d look into it.
Eve nodded. Without realizing it, she wrapped her arms around the teddy bear he’d brought, holding it close to her. The softness against her chin penetrated, and she flushed.
“I’ll see that Brooklyn gets this,” she promised, moving the teddy bear to one side.
“Good.” Adam began to walk away, but he got no farther than ten steps when he abruptly turned around and doubled back. Reaching her bed, he framed her face and kissed her. The kiss was quick—he couldn’t allow himself to linger, didn’t trust himself to linger—but it still left an impression. On both of them. “Give her that, too.”
“Not until she turns eighteen,” Eve answered breathlessly, then realized her error as her words replayed themselves in her head. Her eyes darted to his. Damn it, why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut around him? She’d given too much away.
So what? she silently demanded the next minute. It wasn’t as if Adam wouldn’t have guessed that a very large piece of her heart still belonged to him, despite everything. Her problem was that she had a face that couldn’t keep a secret.
Adam knew he should be on his way. For more than one reason. And yet, he found himself lingering a moment longer. “The baby’s okay, right?”
“She’s perfect.”
“And you, the doctor says you’re all right, too?” Her own doctor had stopped by this morning, right after she’d woken up. Dr. Mudd had expressed surprise that she had delivered so early—and so quickly to boot. It wasn’t unheard of, she’d told Eve, but it wasn’t the norm, especially with first babies.
Eve smiled. “She said I’m none the worse for wear—just a little sore.”
“So when are you being discharged?”
The doctor had given her a choice of tomorrow or the day after. She’d chosen sooner rather than later. “Tomorrow.”
Adam nodded, more to himself than to her as he began rescheduling things in his head. “When?”
“Before noon.”
That was doable. Especially if Hugh came through with someone. “Eleven-thirty work for you?”
“I don’t—Why?” she asked, confused. And then it dawned on her. “Are you planning on taking us home?”
