said.
She nodded, but didn't move. "You won't tell anybody yet, will you? I mean … anybody at work?"
"Like John?"
"I wish people didn't have to know."
"It'll be hard to hide after a while."
"I know," Nell said miserably.
"They'll separate us, you know. They can move you to a desk job."
That straightened her back. "I don't want a desk job!" she flared. "Not until I have to! If I have to."
"Okay, okay," he soothed. "I won't say anything. You're skinny. It may not show for months."
"Skinny." She looked at him with dislike. "Why you?"
"Goddamn it!" He stood, suddenly angry and restless. "I wish the hell I knew."
Face averted, Granstrom got to her feet, too, and hurried past him. He had to stretch his legs to keep up. If anybody paid any attention to the two cops emerging from the rhododendrons to stalk back to their squad car, Hugh didn't notice.
She'd asked the question of the century. Why?
Why had Captain Fisher assigned the two of them to work together? Why had they been on the front lines at the Joplin Building? Why hadn't one of them decided to go home and sack out instead of getting plastered? Why hadn't he stopped a beer or two sooner, kept his pants zipped?
The sad part was, he knew the answer to the last question.
Nell Granstrom had bugged him from the first time they'd done a few shifts together on patrol. They clashed: ideals, methods, attitude. But he had secretly wanted her even then. She wasn't his type. But something about her Princess Grace carriage and the unexpected curves on that tall, thin body had tweaked a chord in him.
He never would have acted on his brief fantasies.
If they hadn't been assigned to work together. If Gann hadn't shot up the Greater Northwest Insurance Company. If Hugh and Nell hadn't gotten drunk together. If she'd said no instead of kissing him with all the hunger he'd buried.
Fantasies were meant to stay that way.
Reality was what happened when you acted on them.
----
Chapter 6
« ^ »
N ell wished Hugh hadn't had to drag the announcement out of her. Now she felt in the wrong, and that didn't sit well. She would have told him. Of course she would have. If he had just let her, she thought resentfully. Why, she'd spent the past week planning how she would do it.
She wrinkled her nose at herself in the rearview mirror of her Subaru on the way home. No, she'd spent the week discarding all the possible ways.
Stand up at roll call. "Hey, everybody! Big news. Officer McLean and I are having a baby."
Leave a voice mail at his home. "Um, thought I should tell you that I'm pregnant." That option had actually appealed to her, to Nell's shame.
Wait until the end of a shift, leap out of the car, then stick her head back as if with a last thought. "I'm pregnant." Then run.
She hadn't lied. There wasn't an easy way to tell him. It would be bad enough if they were lovers, but not thinking marriage or forever. At least there would be a relationship. Something. As it stood, he was another cop. A near stranger, despite their temporary pairing.
She'd tried so hard not to think about their lovemaking—if you could dignify what they'd done with such a euphemism—that now she could hardly remember it. Or so she'd been telling herself.
But that night she lay in bed and thought, I wish it had never happened. And then, hopefully, Maybe it didn't. Just like that, she was reliving every minute.
Swaying across the parking lot, agreeing with a drunk's idiocy that, yes, of course it made sense for them to get in the back seat of his Explorer and get some sleep. And, yes, kissing would be nice, too. The booze had effectively killed her conscience, common sense and her critical inner voice. A few too many beers hadn't, unfortunately, killed her intense response to Hugh McLean.
Damn it, she'd never liked him, but she'd always found him sexy. Her body's involuntary response to the big, dark-haired cop with the cocky attitude and the blue, blue eyes had made her grit her teeth more than
She nodded, but didn't move. "You won't tell anybody yet, will you? I mean … anybody at work?"
"Like John?"
"I wish people didn't have to know."
"It'll be hard to hide after a while."
"I know," Nell said miserably.
"They'll separate us, you know. They can move you to a desk job."
That straightened her back. "I don't want a desk job!" she flared. "Not until I have to! If I have to."
"Okay, okay," he soothed. "I won't say anything. You're skinny. It may not show for months."
"Skinny." She looked at him with dislike. "Why you?"
"Goddamn it!" He stood, suddenly angry and restless. "I wish the hell I knew."
Face averted, Granstrom got to her feet, too, and hurried past him. He had to stretch his legs to keep up. If anybody paid any attention to the two cops emerging from the rhododendrons to stalk back to their squad car, Hugh didn't notice.
She'd asked the question of the century. Why?
Why had Captain Fisher assigned the two of them to work together? Why had they been on the front lines at the Joplin Building? Why hadn't one of them decided to go home and sack out instead of getting plastered? Why hadn't he stopped a beer or two sooner, kept his pants zipped?
The sad part was, he knew the answer to the last question.
Nell Granstrom had bugged him from the first time they'd done a few shifts together on patrol. They clashed: ideals, methods, attitude. But he had secretly wanted her even then. She wasn't his type. But something about her Princess Grace carriage and the unexpected curves on that tall, thin body had tweaked a chord in him.
He never would have acted on his brief fantasies.
If they hadn't been assigned to work together. If Gann hadn't shot up the Greater Northwest Insurance Company. If Hugh and Nell hadn't gotten drunk together. If she'd said no instead of kissing him with all the hunger he'd buried.
Fantasies were meant to stay that way.
Reality was what happened when you acted on them.
----
Chapter 6
« ^ »
N ell wished Hugh hadn't had to drag the announcement out of her. Now she felt in the wrong, and that didn't sit well. She would have told him. Of course she would have. If he had just let her, she thought resentfully. Why, she'd spent the past week planning how she would do it.
She wrinkled her nose at herself in the rearview mirror of her Subaru on the way home. No, she'd spent the week discarding all the possible ways.
Stand up at roll call. "Hey, everybody! Big news. Officer McLean and I are having a baby."
Leave a voice mail at his home. "Um, thought I should tell you that I'm pregnant." That option had actually appealed to her, to Nell's shame.
Wait until the end of a shift, leap out of the car, then stick her head back as if with a last thought. "I'm pregnant." Then run.
She hadn't lied. There wasn't an easy way to tell him. It would be bad enough if they were lovers, but not thinking marriage or forever. At least there would be a relationship. Something. As it stood, he was another cop. A near stranger, despite their temporary pairing.
She'd tried so hard not to think about their lovemaking—if you could dignify what they'd done with such a euphemism—that now she could hardly remember it. Or so she'd been telling herself.
But that night she lay in bed and thought, I wish it had never happened. And then, hopefully, Maybe it didn't. Just like that, she was reliving every minute.
Swaying across the parking lot, agreeing with a drunk's idiocy that, yes, of course it made sense for them to get in the back seat of his Explorer and get some sleep. And, yes, kissing would be nice, too. The booze had effectively killed her conscience, common sense and her critical inner voice. A few too many beers hadn't, unfortunately, killed her intense response to Hugh McLean.
Damn it, she'd never liked him, but she'd always found him sexy. Her body's involuntary response to the big, dark-haired cop with the cocky attitude and the blue, blue eyes had made her grit her teeth more than
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