I can’t come tonight. Something came up. I’m sorry.

Brett stood behind the bar at Gianelli's, staring at the message, wondering exactly what it meant. The best case scenario was that something really had come up. Worst case, Kelsey was avoiding him again. Either way, it sucked.

He mixed a pair of martinis for a couple of women at the bar, then texted back. Everything okay? Five minutes later, Kelsey hadn’t responded. A few minutes later, he texted again. Nothing.

The avoidance thing was starting to make more sense all the time.

Angi showed up a few minutes later. Kelsey had texted her, too, but her message was equally short on details. As the night wore on, Brett tried to tell himself nothing was really wrong, but as it approached the time for him to go home, he convinced himself that Kelsey was doing it all over again. Warming up, then cooling down. Getting hot, then turning cold. And he’d had just about enough of it.

It was after ten when he left Gianelli’s and started down the street. A minute later, he reached the barricades blocking the street where the sewer work was being completed. He started to sidestep them, intending to take the shortest route home, when all at once he heard Kelsey’s voice in his head.

Those are there for a reason.

He ignored her voice and started forward, only to stop again.

Are you crazy? Walking through there is dangerous!

He gritted his teeth, wishing she would stop talking inside his freakin’ head. She was too damned uptight. Why would he listen to a woman like her?

But for some reason, he just couldn’t ignore the barricades. Instead he made a right turn and walked two blocks out of his way to avoid the construction, every step he took angrier than the last. There you go, Kelsey. I followed the rules. Are you happy now?

He decided that under no circumstances was he going to talk to her again. He wasn’t going to knock on her door to see if she was home. He wasn’t going to lure her to his apartment. He was going to ignore her, just as she was ignoring him.

When he reached their building, he took Boomer for a walk, then came back up the elevator, intending to head straight into his apartment and then call it a night. He started to unlock his door. Then all at once he heard a howling cry. Startled, he wheeled around.

It was coming from Kelsey’s apartment.

His first thought: serial killer, knife at her throat, blood everywhere. But in his next heartbeat, he realized it wasn’t a woman’s scream. It was a baby’s cry. What the hell?

He shoved Boomer inside his apartment, then crossed the hall and knocked on her door. A few seconds later, Kelsey opened it.

“Brett! Thank God. Get in here. I need you!”

Okay, he definitely liked the sound of that, but for some reason he couldn’t imagine she was holding a baby, which kinda screwed up the fantasy. She stepped back so he could come inside, then headed for her kitchen.

Then he recognized the baby. Ricky DeVita from down the hall.

“You didn’t return my text messages," he said.

“Sorry. I turned off the sound so my phone wouldn’t wake him if he ever went to sleep.” The baby howled, and she bounced him on her hip at the same time she grabbed a big bowl from one of her upper cabinets. “Here. Fill this with water. Microwave it until it gets really hot.”

“Huh?”

“Hurry up. He’s hungry.”

“He’s having a bowl of hot water?”

She grabbed a bottle out of the fridge. “I need to warm this up.”

“Why don’t you just nuke it?”

“That’s dangerous. It heats unevenly. Hot water is the safest way to warm it.”

A minute later the water was hot, and Kelsey rested the bottle in the bowl, all the while making soft shushing noises to Ricky, who ignored her and kept screaming.

"So what if it's cold?" Brett said. "Tell him it's a milkshake."

"I'm not giving a baby a cold bottle," Kelsey said, walking up and down with the baby. She tried to stick a pacifier into his mouth, but he spit it out. She kept walking him, stopping now and again to check on the bottle. Finally she took it out, sat down with the baby, and stuck the nipple into his mouth. He kept screaming, but she teased the bottle around his lips, then stuck it into his mouth again, and finally he settled in to eat. Blessed silence filled the room.

Brett had never once thought of Kelsey as being remotely domestic, yet here she was taking care of a baby as if she knew exactly what to do?

“You’ve done this before,” he said.

“A time or two.”

"Or a hundred. Where'd you get so good with babies?"

"I babysat a lot when I was a kid."

He sat on the sofa next to her, and for the next few minutes, he watched her feed the baby, patting his back gently and speaking softly to him. After he finished the bottle and she burped him, she laid him on the sofa and unsnapped the sleeper thingy he wore. She removed his wet diaper, gave his little baby butt a quick but thorough wipe, and slapped on a clean one. She did it the same way she did everything else—with an efficiency that boggled the mind.

“So how'd you draw babysitting duty tonight?" Brett asked.

"Rosa's coming down with something, and Sofia had homework. Ricky was being really fussy, so she had more than she could handle. Then Edwin came down on her because the baby was crying and other tenants were complaining. She needed help."

It made sense to Brett that Kelsey would be helping other people. But he couldn't imagine any woman who seemed less domestically inclined than she was, yet here she was feeding and burping and diaper changing with the best of them. She cradled the baby in her arms again, patting his back and rocking him gently, murmuring nonsense words to him in a high-pitched voice.

He couldn't believe it. Baby talk? From Kelsey Morrison?

The strangest feeling came over him, a sense that he'd traveled in time and landed somewhere in the future, where every evening was like this. He and Kelsey. Sharing an apartment. A child. A life. And it was good. Very, very good. Exactly what he’d been raised to believe a marriage should be.

Wait a minute. Why was his brain going there? He'd barely worked his way back into Kelsey's good graces. The last thing he needed to do was imagine them engaged, married, having babies, changing diapers, putting up with door-slamming teenagers, sending those door‑slammers to college, retiring, growing old together, and then occupying side‑by‑side cemetery plots.

Seriously. He needed to stop it.

He’d been doing this all his life. When he took swim lessons as a kid, he was sure Olympic gold was right around the corner. The instant he saw a photo of a South Seas island, he pictured himself owning a house on the beach and spending every day swinging in a hammock and drinking margaritas. Whenever the Publisher’s Clearing House mailing showed up, in his head he’d already won that million dollars a year for life before he even bothered to fill out the entry form. Which led him to another oft-quoted gem from the Tao of Frank: Son, you gotta walk before you can run. Otherwise you’ll stumble, fall, crack your head open, and bleed all over the sidewalk.

"So how was your day?" he asked Kelsey, to keep from saying, Will you marry me and have my baby?

The baby stirred, and Kelsey made a shushing sound. Soon his eyes drifted closed. "Well, let's see,” she said quietly, "Angi and I arrested a guy who cussed at us and kicked the backs of our seats all the way to jail. I was about ten seconds away from showing him what police brutality is all about.”

“Fortunately you have an enormous amount of self control.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I’d really love to lose that control.”

“Can you give me some notice on that? I’ll plan to be somewhere else.”

“How about you?" she asked. “What was your day like?”

“Well, tonight a woman asked for a Sambuca shot. I lit it. She leaned forward to take a drink from the straw, missed, and caught her hair on fire. Her hair had a lot of hairspray in it. Went up like an explosion at a fireworks factory.”

Kelsey looked horrified. "What did you do?”

“I squirted her with the diet Coke nozzle I was holding at the time. She was a little shocked, but it beat third degree burns."

"You'll be lucky if you don't get sued."

"Nah. She was a regular. I just patted her face with a dish towel, told her I always knew she was hot, and pretty soon she was laughing about it."

"Seriously? She was laughing about incinerated hair?"

"She said she was due for a haircut, anyway."

Kelsey shook her head with disbelief. "My God, the things you get away with. How the hell do you do it?"

Brett just shrugged. "It's not that hard to make people happy." He looked down at the baby. “Speaking of making people happy…”

Kelsey looked down at the baby. His eyes had drifted closed, and he was breathing rhythmically.

"Is he asleep?" Brett asked.

"Yeah. There's a blanket in the diaper bag. Can you grab it for me? Lay it down on the rug and we can let him sleep there."

“Why don’t you just put him on your bed?”

“He could roll over and end up on the floor.”

Brett grabbed the blanket and spread it out, and Kelsey lay the baby down, carefully so she didn't wake him. He stirred a little, then was still. She inched back to the sofa again and sat next to Brett. The lights were dim, and her living room was finally quiet. He rested his arm on the back of the sofa behind her head.

"So," Brett said, inching closer and giving her an inviting smile. "Wanna make out?"

Kelsey nearly choked. "Make out?"

"You know. Kiss. And other things."

"I know what making out is. But I'm watching the baby."

"You have to watch him sleep?"

"Well, no, but—"

"But what?"

"Do you ever think about anything besides sex?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Do I want to make out?" She gave him an eye roll. "What is this? High school?”

“Ah! High school. Role playing. I like that.”

Kelsey narrowed her eyes with disgust. “Seriously?"

“No! It’s fun.”

There it was again. The “F” word. Her first instinct was to run far and fast. But if she wanted to loosen up, feel free, and be spontaneous, at least this didn’t involve getting drenched with a water gun or heaving clothes out windows.

She looked at him warily. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s see…I’m the incredibly handsome quarterback of the football team, and you’re the hot, sexy head cheerleader.”

Kelsey made a face. “Cheerleader? Are you kidding?”

“Okay, I should have known that wouldn’t fly. Oh! I know. How about you’re my English teacher, and I conjugated a verb all wrong, and you have to teach me a lesson?”

“Fine, except you’re underage, so it’s criminal.”

“Exactly. And if you get arrested, you’ll go straight to make-believe prison.”

He had a point there. But the pedophilia overtones still left her cold. “I don’t like it."

He thought for a moment more. “Okay. I’ve got it. I’m the brilliant but geeky president of the chess club, but I look really hot when I take my glasses off. You’re the captain of the girls’ softball team.”

“Basketball.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m a guard.”

“Uh…okay.”

“With ten assists per game and a ninety-percent free-throw average.”

“I don’t think you have to be that specific.”

“I thought realism was the point."

"No,” Brett said. “Fantasy is the point. So here’s the scenario. You’re babysitting, and you invited me over to keep you company. The baby’s asleep, and now you’re trying to seduce me.”

“I’m seducing you?”

“Yes. You’ve been around the block a time or two, but I’m still a virgin. Never even kissed a girl.”

“You weren’t kidding. This is make-believe.”

“See, the chess club guys never get laid.”

“Why not?”

“Because girls have no idea just how much they’re smoldering underneath all that geekiness.”

“Are you sure I have to seduce you? Can’t we do it the other way around?”

“Nope. The cast is in place. Start with a little innuendo. That should get things rolling.”

God, she hated this, but she was determined to at least give it a try. She thought for a moment, then leaned in, cleared her throat, and spoke in a deep, sexy voice. “I saw you play at the chess tournament last week. I loved how your bishop put his queen in such a compromising position.” She immediately backed away, frowning. “That sucked.”

“No! It was great!”

“It sounded dumb.”

“Nope. It worked. Chess boy’s paying attention now. Time for basketball girl to move up court.”

This was perhaps the most uncomfortable thing she’d ever done in her life, and she had the feeling that a whole lot of regret was on the horizon. Then again, turning the tables and seducing him for a switch was an enticing thought, and Brett never seemed to mind if he or anyone around him looked like a fool.

She began by putting her hand on his thigh, rubbing it in small circles, each one moving closer to his crotch. A look of mild panic came over his face.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he asked.

Kelsey yanked her hand away. “You told me to move upcourt. I assumed that was a metaphor.”

“Kelsey. That was chess boy talking.”

“Oh.”

She returned her hand to his thigh, inching it upward again. Brett shifted uncomfortably, as chess boy might. She told herself she was basketball girl, the experienced one with all the power, who seduced geeks every day of the week. She could do anything she wanted to, and chess boy would fall at her feet.

“What are you doing?” he repeated nervously.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“I-I’ve never done this before.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, leaning in to nip his earlobe. “By the time this night is over, you’ll be an expert.”

Brett was breathing harder now. He sat motionless, staring straight ahead. She brushed her fingertips across his crotch, kissing his neck at the same time. He swallowed so hard it looked as if he was trying to move a boulder past his throat.

"I once made checkmate in five moves," he said in a strained voice. "This is better."

Kelsey laughed softly, finally moving her hand to his cheek. She turned his head around and kissed him. He gave a small start, then leaned in, his lips closed tightly. She teased her tongue along them, coaxing him to open his mouth, but he didn’t seem to get the message. She tilted her head and persisted, but his lips were closed tighter than the gates of Fort Knox.

"You really haven't kissed a girl before, have you?" she asked.

He shook his head, looking appropriately scared to death.

"Relax," she said. "It's supposed to be fun."

There. She'd actually spoken the "F" word and—miraculously—she hadn't melted or turned to stone. She kissed him again, and he finally parted his lips, and before long he was kissing like a pro. Not surprisingly, chess boy was a fast learner. They melted into each other, and the longer it went on, the more it really did feel as if they were kissing and groping like a couple of teenagers.

Brett was right. This was fun.

Before long, Kelsey was so hot for him that she was ready to strip naked, toss him down on the couch, and have her way with him. Unfortunately, the sleeping baby on the rug put a damper on things.

“We can’t go all the way,” she whispered. "The baby’s parents might be home any minute.”

"Okay," he said. "I don't want to get you in trouble with them."

"But just because a home run is out of the question tonight," basketball girl said, "it doesn't mean we can't go to second base. Have you ever been to second base?"

"That's softball," he said, his voice quivering with excitement. "I thought you played basketball."

She laughed softly. "I think you know what I'm talking about." She took his hand and placed it on her breast. He squeezed it gently, staring down at her with the reverent expression of a horny teenage boy who'd been handed the keys to heaven. He traced the outline of her breast, then strummed her nipple through her shirt with his thumb until it peaked and hardened. When he finally looked back up, his eyes were wide with adoration.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Those two words seemed to melt from his lips and flowed over her like warm honey. Then she reminded herself it was chess boy talking, who would tell a crack whore she was beautiful if he was about to get laid.

“You’re pretty cute yourself,” she said.

"No," he said, reaching up to stroke his fingertips along her cheek. "Chess boy checked out. This is your friendly neighborhood bartender speaking."

She stared at him a long time, wondering what to make of that. She'd never thought of herself as beautiful. But when Brett said it, it seemed as if truer words had never been spoken.

He reached beneath her shirt, slid his hand around to her back, and unhooked her bra. Shoving the cups away, he plucked and pulled at her nipples, then lifted her breasts, squeezing and releasing, all the while kissing her in a way that told her chess boy had definitely left the building. They kissed and touched for what seemed like hours, and it was all Kelsey could do not to shirk her babysitting duties, drag him to her bedroom, and make love with him all night.

Then all at once, there was a knock at her door. Kelsey whipped around, leaping away from Brett. Right on cue, Ricky began to cry.

“Damn," she said, scooting away from Brett and reaching beneath her shirt to hook her bra. "That must be Gloria."

“You mean the parents are home?” He sighed. “I guess we’ll have to meet beneath the bleachers at the next football game.”

"Fantasy time is over," Kelsey said. “Can you get the baby?”

Brett went to the blanket on the floor where Ricky was screaming his little head off. Brett picked him up, but it didn’t do any good. He howled at a decibel level that made a rock concert sound like a preschool piano recital.

"Coming!" Kelsey shouted, then muttered, "I can't hook this stupid bra."

"Here. You hold the baby. I'll hook your bra." Brett handed her the screaming baby. "Though I have to say I have a lot more experience unhooking them."

"Will you just do it?"

Brett reached beneath her shirt to locate the straps of her bra. As he fastened the two sides together, Kelsey whispered, “We were making out in front of the baby. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that.”

“Kelsey. Number one, he was asleep. Number two, he’s a baby."

“I know, but—“

Brett pulled her shirt down, turned her around, ignored the howling baby, and gave her a long, deep, shut-up kiss.

“Your clothes are appropriately fastened,” he said calmly. “The baby is not scarred for life. Now, answer the door.”

Kelsey looked out the peephole, then swung the door open. "Hi, Gloria."

Kelsey handed Ricky to her, and she took the baby, holding him close and shushing him. Finally his crying wound down.

"Sofia told me you offered to watch Ricky," she said, looking chagrined. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“It was no problem. She was just a little overwhelmed. She needed some help.”

“I know. I know. I probably shouldn’t have left her, but…” A smile slowly took over Gloria’s face. “It was such a nice evening.”

“Where did you go?” Brett asked.

“Eclipse.”

“Wow. Nice place.”

Kelsey's radar beeped again. Loudly. Unless Eduardo had found a sack of money on the sidewalk, a restaurant like that one had to be way beyond his means.

"He told me it was expensive, but that I was worth it."

That smile again. Gloria was acting like a teenager in love. But most teenagers weren’t responsible for three kids. But they were certainly gullible enough to fall in with a guy who was only going to cause them grief. Every day of her life, Kelsey saw men treat women as if they were princesses—right up to the point something didn’t go their way. Something such as fathering a child they were suddenly responsible for. After that, they didn’t look like Prince Charmings anymore.

"Gloria?"

"Yeah?"

"How long have you known Eduardo?"

"A few months. He's new at the hotel."

"Where did he work before?"

"At his brother's mechanic shop on Winston Avenue. But Luis sold the shop, so Eduardo was out of a job. That's when he came to the hotel." She looked at her watch and gasped. "Oh, my. Look how late it is. I guess I lost all track of time tonight. I need to get Ricky in bed."

Kelsey and Brett gathered up the baby's things, and Kelsey put them into the diaper bag. She handed it to Gloria.

"Thanks again," Gloria said. "I really do appreciate your help."

She left the apartment, and Kelsey closed the door behind her. With a sigh of irritation, she went straight to her kitchen and dumped the bowl of water they'd used to heat the bottle.

"I guess they had a nice date," Brett said.

"Yeah," Kelsey said. "Nice."

"So why do you seem so annoyed?"

"I’m not.”

“Look out, Kelsey. Your pants are on fire.”

She put the bowl on the counter and reached for a dishtowel. “Okay, so I’m annoyed.”

“Care to tell me why?”

“Eduardo is a maintenance man at the hotel where Gloria works. How can he afford to take her to a restaurant like that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he saves a lot of money?”

"Maybe."

"It was two-for-one entrée night?"

Kelsey was silent.

“He won the lottery?”

“Come on, Brett. Admit it. It’s fishy.”

“Just what conclusion are you jumping to?”

"I always wonder about guys who have low-end jobs or none at all, yet they’re throwing money all over the place."

“It was one dinner.”

“It isn’t the first time he’s done it .”

“Maybe he just likes Gloria and wants to do nice things for her.”

“Fine. As long as he actually has the money to do it.”

“Let me guess. You think he’s doing something illegal.”

"Maybe."

“That’s a pretty big leap,” Brett said.

“It’s just a feeling. I don’t have any proof.” She dried the bowl, put it in the cabinet, and then turned the dishtowel to mop up the droplets of water on her countertop.

"I can't say you're wrong,” Brett told her. “I mean, you're a cop. You know way more about the bad guys than I do."

"Exactly. Have you ever met Eduardo?"

"I've seen him with Gloria a time or two. He looks a little…"

"Intimidating?"

"Now, Kelsey. Men don't like to admit that other men intimidate them."

"But he intimidates you."

"Oh, hell yes. I mean, look at him. He looks as if he eats scrap metal for breakfast and single-handedly keeps some lucky tattoo parlor in business.”

“Did you know Gloria's kids have two different fathers?”

“No. I didn’t know that.”

“That’s right. Gloria has two baby daddies already." Kelsey spied a few more drops of water and went after them, her frustration mounting. "I just have a feeling she's doing it all over again. But what am I supposed to say? 'Hey, Gloria. Eduardo might be bad news. Why don't you tell him to hit the road?'"

"Take it easy, there," Brett said, nodding toward the dishtowel she held. "You're going to rub a hole in that countertop."

Kelsey stopped and stared at the towel. She threw it aside, then let out a heavy sigh. Brett leaned against the counter and folded his arms.

"I think you're worrying too much," he said.

"Of course you would say that. You always think everything is wonderful."

"Most of the time, everything is."

"Sofia told me she doesn't like Eduardo. That worries me."

"Sofia is what? Thirteen?"

"Yes."

"Is there a teenager on earth who likes anything?"

“I bet you liked plenty of things when you were a teenager."

“No, not plenty of things. Girls. I liked girls.” He thought about that for a moment. “Yeah, that was about it.”

"And I bet your parents went to all your school plays and teacher conferences," Kelsey said.

“Uh…yeah. Well, I don't know if they went to all of them."

"Your father probably coached your little league baseball team."

"Just one summer. And we lost every game but one."

"And your mother. She probably baked cookies for the PTA."

"Now, that's where you're wrong. My mother was a terrible cook. One time she thought she could make s'mores over the burner on the gas stove and caught the kitchen on fire."

"How awful for you."

"I'm sensing sarcasm."

"Have you ever had anything bad happen to you?" Kelsey asked. "Anything?"

Brett thought about that for a moment. "Well, when I was in the seventh grade, I broke my arm.”

“A broken arm? That’s it?”

“And when I was sixteen, my grandmother died. But she lived in Toronto, so we didn’t see her very often. I didn’t really know her all that well. It was sad, but…”

“That’s all you can come up with? A broken arm and a dead grandmother?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. That’s about it.”

"Then it’s official. You grew up in Disney World."

"You talk as if that's a bad thing."

"Of course not. It's a good thing. But it means you don't understand what bad looks like. If Gloria brings the wrong man into that household, it’s bad for those kids. Do you know how hard that is on them? Do you have any idea?"

"No, but it looks as if you do."

She turned away. "I see it every day as a cop. Single mothers constantly screw around with the wrong men, and their kids suffer."

Brett tilted his head, narrowing his eyes speculatively.

"What?" she said.

"I don't think the way you feel about this has anything to do with you being a cop."

"What do you mean?"

"This isn't professional for you, is it? It's personal."

Kelsey looked away. "Just forget I said anything." She tried to brush past him, but he took her arm and gently pulled her back around.

“Go home, Brett.”

“Nope. You're not doing that to me. I’m not going anywhere.” He swept her hair away from her temples and cradled her face in his hands, his brows drawn together with concern. “Who hurt you?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but absolutely nothing came to her. No sarcastic comment. No smart retort. Nothing.

"Somebody did," he said. "I don't know who, or when, or how, but somebody did. It's written all over you. That's what this is about."

Kelsey felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. It was as if he was looking right through her to a place she didn't want anyone to see. She had the urge to slide out of his grasp and leave the room, but his sharp, perceptive gaze froze her to the spot where she stood.

“Tell me who it was,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll beat the crap out of them. I swear to God I’ll do it.”

Kelsey was stunned. From one moment to the next, the most profound feeling came over her she couldn’t name. It was as if he'd slipped inside her mind, filtered through her memories, and suddenly he had a sense of the very things she wished she could forget.

All her life, it had been just her. Fighting her own battles, making her own way. She'd clawed and scraped to grow stronger, making damned sure she could take care of herself because she'd learned early that nobody else was going to. But now…

She’d never had a man offer to be her knight in shining armor, and it gave her a feeling of warmth she’d never experienced before. And suddenly the last thing she wanted was for him to leave.

“You’ve never struck me as the combative type,” she murmured.

“Think again,” he said, stroking his thumb along her cheek. “I was hell with a water gun.”

“If you beat somebody up, I'll have to arrest you.”

“By the book as always,” he said, shaking his head. “What do you say we throw that damned thing out?”

“Maybe we should talk about something else.”

“Whatever you want.”

For a moment all she could do was stare into those gentle blue eyes, eyes that held more understanding than she ever could have imagined.

“I think maybe I don’t want to talk at all,” Kelsey said. She touched her fingertips to his cheek, then reached up to kiss him, closing her eyes and letting herself get lost in the feeling.

When she finally opened them again, she happened to glance over his shoulder to her living room window. With the blinds open, she could just make out something between two skyscrapers that made a warm shiver skim the back of her neck.

A half moon.