fight about that later. Go get your son and I’ll make sure the locksmith’s finished.” Nick went to the kitchen and shrugged into his jacket before walking out onto the porch, thinking that Tate Monroe had to be the most distrustful woman he’d met in a very long time.
And the most desirable.
Chapter 2
They were both too subdued, Nick thought as he drove along. Buckled into the passenger seat of his Taurus, Tate stared out the window, her body language revealing an almost palpable tension. What was she so nervous about? he wondered. The possibility of another break-in, Maggie’s condition or something more disturbing?
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Josh was gazing out the side window while his hands restlessly stroked the seat belt. He had to get them to relax, Nick decided, or he’d never find out a thing.
“Do you like pizza, Josh?” he asked the boy.
“Uh-huh.”
Great start. Nick turned onto Broadway heading toward central Tucson, shifting his thoughts back to Tate. She’d wanted to change clothes, but he’d assured her that she was dressed just right for where they were going. Oddly, she’d not asked where it was he was taking them. “I’ll bet you’ve never tasted pizza as good as Giovanni serves.”
“Probably not.” Tate kept her eyes on the road, wishing she hadn’t agreed to go. She could have opened a can of soup for the two of them. She hadn’t been out with a man in so long she scarcely remembered how to behave. Not that this outing could be considered a date. Yet she was as uneasy as if it were.
First, there was his maleness and his size coupled with a gentleness that didn’t seem to go with the package. Then there were those searching gray eyes. Cop’s eyes, to be sure, missing nothing, questioning everything. And last, but certainly not least, there were those probing inquiries. Tate was certain he’d asked them out so he could quiz Josh. She’d have to be on guard and she hated that. If only she could relax and put this whole nasty business out of her mind. But when would she be allowed the luxury of that?
“Giovanni, the guy who owns the restaurant, is a friend of the family,” Nick began, hoping if he revealed some personal things, she’d be inclined to follow his lead. “We call him Johnny but his Italian name is Giovanni. See, I have two older brothers, Tony and Sam, and Johnny has two older brothers, Vic and Paul. We all grew up in this wonderful ethnic neighborhood over that way.” He pointed west in the general direction of his old stomping grounds. “My folks still live there in this great two-story house. They raised five kids in that house.”
Despite a case of nerves, Tate found herself interested. “Ethnic as in Italian? Bennett doesn’t sound Italian.”
“My father was born Anthony Bennedetto, but somewhere along the line, the name got changed to Bennett. Both my parents are first-generation Americans. But we had other nationalities around us—German, Hungarian, Russian. And more recently, Mexican. It was a great place to raise children. My mother used to say that if a kid fell down on Palmetto Drive, three mothers rushed out before he had a chance to get up.” He smiled at her and noticed that at least she was looking at him and not the passing scenery.
“That must have been nice. I always wanted that for Josh, but…well, our plans don’t always work out.” Tate looked down at her hands, noticing they were in a near-death grip, and forced her fingers to relax.
His casual chatter was loosening her, so Nick hurried on. “No, they sure don’t. My dad wanted me to work in construction like him and my brothers, but doing the same thing over and over day after day bored me. When I got accepted at the Police Academy, I think my mother spent all her free time on her knees saying the rosary that I’d flunk out. She hates that I’m a cop, even now.”
“As a mother, I can understand that. It’s a dangerous job.” His gun was hidden by his jacket now, but she was acutely aware of its presence and what it represented.
“I suppose. But Tony broke both shoulders once falling off a roof he was prepping. Took him six months to recover. Sam got cut by a piece of rusty tin and ignored it until it got infected. He nearly wound up with blood poisoning. On any given day, any one of us can get run over by a bus, too. Danger is relative.”
“You’re talking accidents, which can happen to anyone. But your brothers aren’t dealing with criminals who have guns and other weapons and might somehow wind up cornered and decide to use them on a cop. You go looking for trouble every day.” And she wondered how he stood it. She’d had a small taste of danger and hated it.
“Not really, but trouble seems to find me anyhow.” Nick pulled into a crowded parking lot adjacent to a stucco building painted bright green and sporting a big red-and-white neon sign that flashed on and off, reading Giovanni’s. Strings of blinking red, white and green lights outlined the roof, the door and windows. Outside the main door was a huge fountain with cement cherubs pouring recirculated water. He saw that both of them were staring openmouthed. He was used to the place, as most everyone in the neighborhood was, but he knew it looked garish to a newcomer.
“The Italian flag colors, you know—red, white and green. It’s not as gaudy inside, the pasta’s to die for and the pizza can’t be beat.” Turning off the engine, he got out from behind the wheel and was about to go around to assist them, but Tate was already out and helping Josh unbuckle his seat belt. Okay, so chivalry was out.
Nick waited until they joined him before leading the way through the heavy wood door. Inside, he paused to let his guests absorb the atmosphere.
Dean Martin was crooning That’s Amore through the piped-in music system, adults and kids alike were chattering and several waiters wrapped in big white aprons were serving large trays of food and pitchers of cold drinks. A table of four joined Dean, singing loudly and off-key. They competed with a round table consisting of six kids and two adults who were singing birthday greetings to a boy of about eight.
“It’s never boring in here,” Nick said, leaning close to Tate in order to be heard. He caught the very feminine scent of her hair and quickly straightened.
A big man with wavy black hair and a full mustache spotted them and came rushing over. “Nickie, how you been?” He grasped Nick into a huge bear hug.
“Fine, Johnny.” Nick urged her forward with a hand to the small of her back. “I’d like you to meet Tate Monroe and her son, Josh.”
“Glad you’re here,” Johnny said, his dark eyes smiling. “Any friend of Nickie’s is a friend of mine.” He turned, looking around, then swung back. “Two minutes and I’ll have a booth for you, okay?”
“That’d be great.” Nick kept his hand at her back, wondering if she’d leave it there after Johnny walked away.
In a smooth move, Tate shifted fractionally and slipped her arm around Josh’s shoulders, aligning the two of them slightly apart from Nick. “What do you think, Josh?” she asked the boy.
“It smells good in here,” he answered shyly.
“And it tastes just as good,” Nick told them as he caught Johnny’s wave and led them to a booth where the table was draped with a red-and-white checkered cloth topped with bright green plastic place mats. He thanked his friend and accepted two huge menus, passing one to Tate who let Josh slide in, then followed him. Nick sat down opposite them.
“You
