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  When the doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, Ann practically flew to the door, Becky hard on her heels. Oscar watched them from a safe perch on the sofa. Ann flung open the door, hoping that she'd be able to read something from his expression. They'd already agreed not to tell Becky where he'd been, so until they could get Becky out of the room, they wouldn't be able to talk openly. But surely he'd find a way to let her know if there was any news.

  "Flynn—"

  "Mr. Flynn—"

  Both sentences came to an abrupt halt. The man standing outside the door was definitely not Flynn. He was short, stocky and balding, and the expression on his face bore no resemblance to Flynn's lazy charm. His eyes traveled from Ann's face to Becky.

  "Dad." Ann knew her tone fell short of enthusiasm and she repeated the word, trying to sound less like she'd just discovered an encyclopedia salesman on her doorstep. "Dad."

  "Ann." He nodded. "Obviously, you were expecting someone else."

  "That's okay. Obviously, you aren't someone else." He didn't bother to smile at her weak attempt at humor.

  "May I come in?"

  "Of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you standing there." She stepped back, aware of Becky retreating to stand next to Oscar. She shut the door behind her father and followed him into the living room. "Dad, this is Rebecca Sinclair. She's staying across the hall and I'm taking care of her for a little while. Becky, this is my father, Mr. Perry."

  He acknowledged the introduction with a short nod.

  "Staying with the McCallister fellow, is she? I thought you were steering clear of him."

  Robert Perry believed that children should be seen and not heard. He also believed that they should be treated as if they were part of the furniture, which included not only silence, but deafness.

  Luckily, the doorbell rang again before Ann had to find an answef for her father's comment. Her pace was much more subdued this time, and she waited until the door was fully open before greeting her visitor.

  "Flynn." They had only an instant in the semi-privacy of the hall. There was no time for Ann to ask any questions about his visit with the private detective. Her eyes met his and he shook his head slightly, the only thing they had time for before Becky clutched Flynn around the knees.

  "Hi, urchin." He bent and scooped her up, holding her casually under one arm. Her giggles drew a smile from Ann, a smile that died when she looked at her father.

  "Flynn, this is my father, Robert Perry. Dad, this is Flynn McCallister."

  The two men nodded. Robert Perry's face expressed his disapproval of both Flynn and Becky. "I understand Ann has been baby-sitting for you."

  "I suppose you could call it that."

  "My daughter is a very busy woman. I hope you don't plan to intrude on her time like this again."

  "Dad!" Ann could feel the color coming up in her cheeks. She looked at Flynn, half-expecting him to stalk out in a rage. But, of course, Flynn McCallister never did the expected thing.

  One black brow arched upward, and his mouth twisted in a half smile that brought an angry flush to Robert Perry's face even before Flynn spoke.

  "I think Ann can take care of herself. She's never hesitated to speak her mind in the past. Of course, you have to be willing to listen to hear what she's saying." His words fell into a little pool of silence. Ann held her breath, waiting for the explosion.

  Flynn seemed oblivious to the tension. He shifted Becky from one arm to the other, holding her against his hip as if she weighed nothing. "Ann, we're having chili dogs tonight if you want to join us."

  He turned and left without another word to her father, tugging the door shut behind him, cutting off the sound of Becky's giggling pleas to be put down. Ann stared at the door for a long moment, surprised by the strength of the urge to follow him.

  She had to force herself to look at her father, pinning a determinedly cheerful expression on her face. Maybe he would just ignore Flynn's comments. One look at his purple complexion told her that he wasn't going to ignore anything. It was going to be a rough visit.

  ❧

  "Have a glass of wine." Ann shook her head. "I really shouldn't stay. It's late and... thank you." She took the glass he handed her and sipped the pale red contents.

  "You'll sleep better after a nice glass of pinot noir."

  Flynn sank into a chair at right angles to the sofa and propped his stockinged feet on the glass coffee table. He looked absolutely boneless, slouched in the chair, a wineglass in one hand, the other hand relaxed on the wide arm of the chair. He had nice hands, long fingers and neatly clipped nails. Artistic hands.

  Ann took another sip of wine and felt some of the tension seep out. She slid farther back on the sofa and leaned her head against its back. It was so peaceful here. Becky was asleep; the city was quiet beneath them. No one was demanding anything of her. How had it happened that, in the space of a few short days, Flynn McCallister had gone from being a thorn in her side to being an oasis of calm?

  Of course, it was only temporary. As soon as Becky's mother was found, she and Flynn would go their separate ways again. Not that they'd go back to being antagonists, but they'd certainly have no reason to do more than nod politely in the hall. Why wasn't that thought more reassuring?

  "What did the private investigator have to say about Becky's mother? Any luck?"

  Flynn shook his head. "Not much. He's found out quite a bit about her but nothing that tells us where she might have disappeared to." He swirled the wine in his glass, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "She doesn't sound like your average mother who belongs to the PTA and bakes cookies every second Tuesday."

  "So? Most women don't fit that pattern anymore."

  "True. But most women don't have a different boyfriend every weekend and no visible means of support."

  "You think she's a..." Ann cleared her throat, her eyes going toward the room where Becky was asleep.

  "I don't know." Flynn took another swallow of his wine, his frown deepening. "She must love Becky or she wouldn't have bothered to keep her. Maybe she is earning her living in the oldest profession. Maybe she doesn't have a choice."

  "Still, that's not going to be very good for Becky, especially when she gets old enough to understand what's going on."

  "It would explain why her mother has instilled a fear of the 'welfare people' in Becky. I imagine they would take her away if her mother's doing what I think she's doing."

  "What are we going to tell Becky?" She used the plural without thought. It was no longer possible to pretend that she wasn't involved in this situation.

  "Nothing. At least not until we have some news of her mother. She's happy here. I'm just going to let her stay that way."

  "What if her mother's never found?"

  Flynn downed the last of his wine and stared broodingly at the glass. "We'll cross that bridge when it gets here."

  Ann took another swallow of wine, feeling the warm glow of it settle in her stomach and then ease its way through her body.

  "Did Becky get to sleep all right?"

  "No problem. I told her a story and she went out like a light before I even got to the punch line. She asked where you were."

  Ann tried to ignore the pleasure the words gave her. She was getting too emotionally involved here. She was going to get hurt. "What did you tell her?"

  "I told her that you'd asked me to give her a kiss for you and that you'd see her tomorrow."

  "That was nice."

  "I thought so. Of course, you owe me a kiss now." Ann's eyes flew to his face. He gave her a lazy smile that set up a fluttering in her stomach. "I'll collect later."

  "Oh. Fine." Fine? Had she really said fine? It had to be the wine. Maybe he'd drugged it.

  "How did the visit with your father go?"

  In her current relaxed state, not even the mention of her father could seriously dim the warm glow Ann felt. He seemed so far away.

  "The same as usual. I'm not doing well enough. I should be further a
long in my career. I don't attend the right gatherings. He doesn't like my cat, my apartment, my life-style."

  "And he most especially doesn't like Becky and me."

  It had to be the wine. She wasn't even upset that he'd hit the nail on the head with such unerring precision.

  "It's nothing personal. He just worries that I'll let things get in the way of my career."

  "Things like personal relationships?" The question was unanswerable, but he didn't seem to expect a reply. He leaned forward and picked up the wine bottle, filling his own glass before leaning forward to fill Ann's.

  "I really shouldn't. It's late."

  "You've got to try it now that it's had time to breathe."

  She sipped obediently. It didn't taste any different to her, but she nodded and made an appreciative noise. She really should go home, but the sofa felt so wonderfully soft.

  "You know, I've found that you can't always fulfill your parents' dreams for you. Sometimes, you just have to do what you want to do, even if it disappoints the people you love."

  "lam doing what I want to do."

  "Then you've got nothing to worry about."

  Ann frowned into her glass. "It's not that my father isn't proud of me. It's just that he has very high standards. He wanted a boy, you know."

  "Well, I, for one, am glad he didn't get what he wanted. You're much too beautiful to make a good boy." He raised his glass in a toast and Ann felt that disturbing tingle of pleasure again.

  "Thank you. I don't think that's any consolation to my father."

  "I wasn't trying to console him."

  "You know, I wish I was more like you." Ann was almost as surprised by her words as he was. Amazing what a couple of glasses of wine could do.

  "Like me? I wouldn't have guessed that you harbored a secret desire to be a worthless playboy, as my father so succinctly puts it."

  "No, I don't mean that. I mean, I wish I didn't care so much what other people thought. You just go through life doing what you want to do. You don't let what your father wants control your life."

  Flynn's mouth twisted ironically. "Oh, I don't know. In some ways, I am what I am just to spite my father. Nobody is completely free of their parents' influence. You've just got to keep it in perspective."

  "Perspective." Ann yawned. "Did you know that I wanted to be a veterinarian when I was a kid?"

  "Why didn't you?"

  She swallowed the last of her wine and set the glass down with a thump. "My father thought it was dumb. Doctoring people is more important than animals." She yawned again. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you that wine makes me sleepy."

  "That's okay. Do you ever regret it?"

  "That wine makes me sleepy? It doesn't cause me much trouble." She blinked at him owlishly.

  He smiled, his eyes bright with amusement. "Do you ever regret becoming a people doctor instead of an animal doctor?"

  "Of course not. People doctoring is much more important." Her eyelids felt so heavy. "I really should be going home."

  Flynn watched as her head slipped slowly to the side, her eyes shut, her mouth the slightest bit open as she slid into sleep. There was a funny ache in his chest. She looked so vulnerable. He set his glass down and stood up. He should probably wake her up and send her home. She wasn't going to be happy about falling asleep in front of him. It was too big a chink in the wall she kept between them. He looked at her a moment longer and then left the room.

  When he returned, he was carrying a pillow and a blanket. Ann didn't twitch when he tucked the pillow under her head, easing her down to lie on the sofa. He lifted her feet up, slipping her shoes off.

  He covered her with the blanket, and she cuddled under its light warmth, snuggling her face into the pillow. Her hair was still pulled back in a loose bun, but a few rebellious strands had escaped the pins to curl around her face. He brushed them back, letting the soft warmth curl around his fingers.

  He wasn't entirely sure what was happening between them, but he knew it was a lot more than just concern for Becky. Thirty-three was a hell of a time to fall in love for the first time. He'd almost begun to think it would never happen. He tucked the blanket more firmly around her shoulders and moved away, scooping up the glasses and the half-empty wine bottle on his way to the kitchen.

  ❧

  The jangle of the phone was an unexpected intrusion and Ann jumped, splashing red paint onto a portion of the picture that was designated for blue.

  "Drat!" She dabbed at the errant paint and succeeded in smearing it a little farther. The phone rang again, and she dropped the rag and got up. She hesitated, staring at the phone indecisively. What if it was Flynn? In the two days since she'd awakened on his sofa, she'd managed to avoid much contact with him. She saw him only when Becky was present to act as a buffer. A buffer from what, Ann couldn't have said. All she knew was that Flynn threatened her carefully planned life-style. The wine had made the evening a little fuzzy around the edges, but it hadn't blocked out what had been said.

  What had gotten into her that she'd said such things to him? She never talked to anyone like that. Not even to herself. There was something about him that made it all too easy to reveal things she didn't want revealed, say things she didn't even want to think.

  The phone rang again, and she took a deep breath and reached for it. It wasn't likely to be Flynn and, even if it was, there was certainly nothing to be afraid of. Maybe he was calling to suggest that they leave for their picnic early.

  "Hello?"

  "Ann?"

  "Oh, hello, Dad." The relief was only temporary. Her father hadn't been entirely happy with her when he left two days ago.

  "I wanted to let you know that I've taken matters into my own hands."

  "What matters?"

  "When we talked about that child that McCallister is keeping, I told you that the only thing to do was call the Social Services. After giving it careful thought, I felt it would be best for all concerned if someone did the right thing so I called Social Services this morning and explained the situation to them."

  "You did what?" Ann hadn't thought it was possible to be so angry so quickly. Her voice came out on a breathy note. She was surprised she could get it past the tightness in her throat.

  "I know you'll agree that this is the best solution. McCallister is clearly unfit to be taking care of a child and—"

  "How dare you?"

  "What?"

  "How dare you interfere like this?"

  "There's no need to get hysterical, Ann."

  "I'm not hysterical. I'm mad! Damn it! You had no right!" She slammed the receiver down in the midst of his angry protests about her tone. She stared at the wall for several long seconds, taking deep breaths, suppressing the desire to scream with rage.

  Flynn. She had to warn Flynn. Barefoot, paint on her fingers, she flew out of the apartment and across the hall. She knocked, hurting her knuckles with the force she put into the simple gesture. It seemed like hours before the door began to open.

  "Flynn, I'm so sorry. My father called—"

  "Come in and meet Ms. Davis, Ann. She's here about Becky."

  Ann dragged her eyes from the rage that glittered in his and looked past his shoulder to the woman who sat in the living room.

  Flynn took her arm and pulled her into the hall, shutting the door behind her with a snap. Ann stretched her stiff facial muscles into a smile and hoped she didn't look as sick as she felt.

  ❧

  "You have to understand, Mr. McCallister, this is a very unusual situation. If you'd reported Rebecca to us when you first found her, she would have been placed in appropriate foster care until her mother was found. Now, the child has had a chance to form an attachment to you. And, of course to you also, Ms. Perry. It will make it much harder for her to settle somewhere else."

  Flynn gave the woman a coaxing smile. "Then why move her? You can see that she's doing just fine here. Why not let her stay until her mother is found? I realize that I'm not, perhaps, a typi
cal foster parent but

  I've done a pretty good job so far. Becky is happy here. Ann keeps an eye on her health and well-being."

  "I tell you what. I can't promise anything but I'll see what I can do to allow you to keep Rebecca." She held up her hand to forestall Flynn's thanks. "It will only be temporary. If her mother isn't found soon, more permanent arrangements will have to be made."

  Jane Davis got up, gathering up her briefcase and purse. Flynn and Ann rose with her, both of them smiling with relief. She held out her hand. "I'll call as soon as I've talked to my superiors."

  Flynn took her hand, but instead of the expected handshake, he raised it to his lips, kissing her fingers with a courtliness that brought a flutter even to a heart toughened by years of social work.

  The door shut and Ann turned to Flynn, wanting to offer some explanation, some apology, some excuse for her father's behavior. Before she could speak, Becky's voice interrupted.

  "Is she gone?" The adults turned to find her peering into the living room, her eyes wide and uncertain.

  "She's gone."

  "She's not going to make me go away with her?"

  "Nobody is going to make you go anywhere." Flynn bent to catch the little girl as she flew across the room to him. He swept her up easily, accepting her arms around his neck and returning the hug. Ann swallowed a lump in her throat.

  "She wanted to take me away, didn't she?" Becky's voice was muffled by Flynn's shoulder.

  "She wanted to make sure that you were all right."

  "Is she going to let me stay with you?"

  Flynn stroked the back of her head, offering her physical reassurance as well as verbal. "She's going to let you stay with me. She was just worried about you and she wanted to make sure Ann and I were taking good care of you."

  Becky snuggled her head deeper into his neck. "What about Mama? Are they going to take me away from Mama?"

  Flynn's eyes met Ann's in helpless question. His answer was very carefully phrased. "I'm sure they'll want to talk to your mom when we find her but when they see how much she loves you, everything will be all right."