like."
With the tiny baby cradled in his long arm, he looked like a guardian angel, the kind that would never let a child be lost or taken if there was anything at all he could do.
Looking up from the baby, Matt caught Sofie's expression. Nothing in the rules prohibited socializing with a caregiver, though his years in law had made him cautious. "Would you like to go for coffee or something?"
"I thought you were avoiding caffeine."
Good memory. "That was last week." It had seemed important then.
"I see." She half smiled. "You accomplished your goal?"
"Close enough."
Star rose up from a high-backed wing chair that had hidden her in the parlor. "There's a latte machine in the kitchen. I'll play barista."
Sofie raised her brows. "It would be easier, I guess, than taking the baby out."
"Sure." He didn't care where the coffee came from. What he wanted was time with her. How long had it been since he'd felt so aware of a woman? How long since that awareness had triggered not only a physical response, but a desire to know, to shield, to engage.
She took the baby from his arms, and he followed her to the kitchen, as well appointed as many restaurants. Near the large stainless espresso machine, Star poured beans into a grinder, humming along with its whine. The noise didn't faze the old woman sleeping in the overstuffed chair in the corner near the stove.
Matt pulled out a chair for her. "Will we bother your grandmother?"
Sofie shook her head. "She's used to commotion. Most of her family lives under one roof."
"In a house like this?" What was it with them flocking together?
"An apartment building. But the families freely overlap."
He thanked Star when she delivered their frothy lattes, sipped his and smiled. He typically took his coffee black and practical, and wouldn't have thought he'd care for the hazelnut flavor, but it wasn't bad. The smoothness of the brew spoke to the quality of the beans and the freshness of its preparation.
"How's your dissertation coming?"
"It's not." Sofie peered down at the dozing infant in her arms.
"Has he interfered?"
"Only because I've let him." She rested her hand over the baby's chest. "I'm not sure that's my direction anymore. I've put it on hold."
"That's a big decision."
"It should be, I suppose. I've worked hard enough toward it these last five years." She trailed her finger up and down the baby's arm. "Now it doesn't seem to matter."
He seriously hoped she wasn't quitting because of an infant who would be returned to his mother if at all possible. "What will you do instead?"
"At some point I'd like to sleep." She kissed the baby's head and smiled.
She was so good with him—better than a confused teenage mother who had convinced herself the baby was dead?
Antonia awoke with a snort and stared. "What's all this?"
Sofie turned. "You remember Matt Hammond, Nonna. From Child Protective Services?"
"I kn . . . ow who he is. What does he want?"
Star let loose a throaty laugh. "What they all want, Grandmother, deep inside that wolf skin." She threw her arms wide. " 'Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.' "
Sofie said, "They found Maria, Nonna. Matt came to tell Lance."
Smooth. Masterfully unruffled.
"What about our baby?" Antonia's stare sharpened.
"Nothing's settled," he told her. "He'll stay here for now, if you're still willing and able."
Antonia made a sound that mocked his foolishness. "What else would we be?"
"Good." He set his mug on the table and stood up. "I'll keep you posted on Maria's condition. Will you have Lance call as soon as he gets in?"
"He's off with his betrothed." Star swept up his mug.
"They're engaged?" He looked from Star to Sofie. Did prophets marry? Beget prophlets?
Star said, "'Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.' And around here, mate, it's catchin'."
"Well, give them my congratulations."
Sofie tucked the baby into her grandmother's arms. "You can tell him when you see him." She walked him to the
With the tiny baby cradled in his long arm, he looked like a guardian angel, the kind that would never let a child be lost or taken if there was anything at all he could do.
Looking up from the baby, Matt caught Sofie's expression. Nothing in the rules prohibited socializing with a caregiver, though his years in law had made him cautious. "Would you like to go for coffee or something?"
"I thought you were avoiding caffeine."
Good memory. "That was last week." It had seemed important then.
"I see." She half smiled. "You accomplished your goal?"
"Close enough."
Star rose up from a high-backed wing chair that had hidden her in the parlor. "There's a latte machine in the kitchen. I'll play barista."
Sofie raised her brows. "It would be easier, I guess, than taking the baby out."
"Sure." He didn't care where the coffee came from. What he wanted was time with her. How long had it been since he'd felt so aware of a woman? How long since that awareness had triggered not only a physical response, but a desire to know, to shield, to engage.
She took the baby from his arms, and he followed her to the kitchen, as well appointed as many restaurants. Near the large stainless espresso machine, Star poured beans into a grinder, humming along with its whine. The noise didn't faze the old woman sleeping in the overstuffed chair in the corner near the stove.
Matt pulled out a chair for her. "Will we bother your grandmother?"
Sofie shook her head. "She's used to commotion. Most of her family lives under one roof."
"In a house like this?" What was it with them flocking together?
"An apartment building. But the families freely overlap."
He thanked Star when she delivered their frothy lattes, sipped his and smiled. He typically took his coffee black and practical, and wouldn't have thought he'd care for the hazelnut flavor, but it wasn't bad. The smoothness of the brew spoke to the quality of the beans and the freshness of its preparation.
"How's your dissertation coming?"
"It's not." Sofie peered down at the dozing infant in her arms.
"Has he interfered?"
"Only because I've let him." She rested her hand over the baby's chest. "I'm not sure that's my direction anymore. I've put it on hold."
"That's a big decision."
"It should be, I suppose. I've worked hard enough toward it these last five years." She trailed her finger up and down the baby's arm. "Now it doesn't seem to matter."
He seriously hoped she wasn't quitting because of an infant who would be returned to his mother if at all possible. "What will you do instead?"
"At some point I'd like to sleep." She kissed the baby's head and smiled.
She was so good with him—better than a confused teenage mother who had convinced herself the baby was dead?
Antonia awoke with a snort and stared. "What's all this?"
Sofie turned. "You remember Matt Hammond, Nonna. From Child Protective Services?"
"I kn . . . ow who he is. What does he want?"
Star let loose a throaty laugh. "What they all want, Grandmother, deep inside that wolf skin." She threw her arms wide. " 'Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.' "
Sofie said, "They found Maria, Nonna. Matt came to tell Lance."
Smooth. Masterfully unruffled.
"What about our baby?" Antonia's stare sharpened.
"Nothing's settled," he told her. "He'll stay here for now, if you're still willing and able."
Antonia made a sound that mocked his foolishness. "What else would we be?"
"Good." He set his mug on the table and stood up. "I'll keep you posted on Maria's condition. Will you have Lance call as soon as he gets in?"
"He's off with his betrothed." Star swept up his mug.
"They're engaged?" He looked from Star to Sofie. Did prophets marry? Beget prophlets?
Star said, "'Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.' And around here, mate, it's catchin'."
"Well, give them my congratulations."
Sofie tucked the baby into her grandmother's arms. "You can tell him when you see him." She walked him to the
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