Chapter 10

Karen entered the kitchen just as Carlton placed the last rinsed plate in the dishwasher.

"You didn't have to do that," she said as she came up alongside him, her fingertips grazing the length of his forearm and making him shiver. Again.

All evening, she'd gifted him with those light, fleeting touches—her hand to his, her bare foot grazing his ankle, at one point even briefly resting her head on his shoulder, her hair teasing the underside of his jaw—leaving him in a heightened state of utter and complete sensation. He knew he'd managed to function—had conversed amicably with Mrs. Dunlap, quizzed Iris about the beach—but with each of those touches, each time his gaze had met Karen's, anticipation had continued to build until he felt like a damned pressure cooker.

"Yeah, I did." After wiping his hands dry, he picked up his wine glass—and oh, hey, look at that, his hand wasn't shaking like a leaf, yay for some self-control—and took a sip. "Your mom was kind enough to make dinner, least I could do is help clean up."

"Such a gentleman," she teased gently as she took the glass from him. Holding his gaze, she deliberately put her mouth where his had been and took a long sip. Every muscle from his abdomen southward clenched with a slow, deep heat.

"Not really," he said softly. "In fact, I've been entertaining some incredibly ungentlemanly thoughts for the past several hours. Days," he amended as he reached out and used his thumb to swipe a ruby drop from the lush curve of her lower lip. With the same deliberation as when she'd drunk from his glass, he lifted his thumb to his mouth and sucked it clean. As her gaze followed his movements, her pupils dilated, black nearly swallowing the deep brown and the glass trembled in her hand. That he could inspire such reactions in her—that they could inspire such reactions in each other—ratcheted the deep heat up a notch to a slow, rolling boil.

Mrs. Dunlap chose that moment to reenter the kitchen, a freshly bathed and pajama-clad Iris in tow.

"You're still here!" Iris cried as she rushed between them, lightening the heavy sense of anticipation—but only just.

With a smile, and further clenching of his gut muscles as he watched Karen take another slow sip of wine, he dropped to a knee to face Iris. "I told you I wouldn't leave before you went to bed."

Iris' solemn blue-gray gaze regarded him. "Yeah, but work always calls at the worst times—at least, that's what Mommy says."

Carlton felt a fist grab and twist his heart at the pain he spotted flashing across Karen's face. How difficult must it have been for her—especially in the last year since her divorce. He tried to estimate how many after-hours calls she might have received—how many cases demanding she stay late. Wondered how often had she been required to abdicate the parenting role in favor of her role as Chief?

Right there, he resolved to do what he could to alleviate that load for her. He was the Head Detective after all—second in damned command. Most of the time it was ultimately his call as to when the Chief was brought in on a case. With a guilty start he wondered how often had he called her in earlier than necessary? Could his subconscious have been selfishly trying to establish his place in the pecking order of her life? Try to prove he even had a place?

If so, that was really pathetic. And he owed this little girl a hell of a lot. Not to mention, her mother.

"No—" He shook his head. "Work can't call me in this weekend. I made certain of it."

He looked away from Iris to meet Karen's gaze for a brief, searing moment. He'd hoped to be spending time with her. If he'd come up empty, however, there was a brand new bottle of Jameson's waiting back at his condo. Either way, he would have been utterly useless. Better to leave O'Hara in charge.

Safer at any rate.

"Does that mean you're going to stay here tonight?"

"Uh, no."

He ignored Karen's choked giggle and the smirk on Mrs. Dunlap's face. Further proof the women were related, as neither made any move to rescue him from this potential minefield.

"But I was hoping, though, that it would be okay now for me to take your Mom out for a while."

Warmth enveloped his back as Karen stepped up behind him, her hand finding a comfortable niche on his shoulder, as it had so many times tonight already.

"You will be taking her Mommy out for a while."

As he stood, her hand slid down his arm to grasp his in a brief, warm clasp.

"Iris, Carlton was incredibly nice and understanding about your worries. Now that he's proved to you his being here has nothing to do with work, he and I are going to go out and you're going to let Grandma put you to bed, no arguments."

Karen's voice was firm. Not quite Chief Vick dealing with the troops or even Chief Vick dealing with the Village Idiots who masqueraded as police consultants firm. but with a definite note of brooking no argument. Personally, he found it kind of hot. Then again, there was little about Karen he didn't find almost unbearably hot.

Judging by Iris' wide-eyed nod and quiet "Okay, Mommy," she understood that note meant she'd hit the limits of Mommy's tolerance. Or maybe it was just that Carlton had managed to convince her he had no ulterior motives.

At least no ulterior motives that involved work.

And even though it hadn't gone precisely as he might have originally envisioned, he couldn't exactly quibble with the evening thus far. Seeing Karen with Iris—gaining an understanding for how deeply Iris' need for her mother ran—had been an eye-opener for him. And while he might be well past the point of needing parental approval, he couldn't deny it was kind of nice to feel as if, after all these years, Mrs. Dunlap was on his side. Hell, that anyone was on his side.

It did beg the question of Karen's father and his marked absence—but likely he was just away on business. Even though the man was well past retirement age, he'd always struck Carlton as one of those work until he dropped at his desk types. Pots and kettles and all that.

Although, he realized as he watched Karen pick Iris up and hold her close, it was clear that was going to have to change.

He hoped it would have to change.

"Carlton—"

At the sound of Iris' voice, he paused in the act of shrugging on his jacket. "Yes?"

In the next instant he found himself instinctively cradling Iris' weight as she clambered from her mother's embrace and into his.

"I—"

"Goodnight," she said, her hold on his neck cutting off his supply of oxygen, but hey, it was okay.

"Goodnight," he managed, adjusting his hold so she was cradled more securely against his hip. He might have thought it awkward, holding a child—especially one not his own—but like the first time he'd held Iris, it came naturally. And even though he understood Karen had set the limits and expected that Iris would adhere to them without argument, he couldn't help but seek one final reassurance.

Leaning back slightly, he looked into Iris' face. "You sure it's okay I take your mom out for a while?"

She nodded, although her brows drew together. "You'll bring her back, right?"

"Always," he promised and meant it. Seeing in the features of the little girl, the baby he'd held all-too-briefly so long ago and feeling as he had then, the odd sensation she was trusting him.

Lightning fast, she leaned in, kissed his cheek, and slithered from his hold, disappearing down the hallway like a sprite fueled by sea air and pure joy. And where had that come from? He'd never been one given to fanciful imagery—at least, hadn't been for a long, long time.

"They have such a way of twisting your heart and making you wonder how you ever managed to exist without them."

The inspiration for his earliest flights of fancy spoke softly as her hand found his again. Unable to resist, he moved to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest.

"I'm getting that," he said as he rested his chin on her hair and tried to fight back a familiar wistful pang.

"It's part of what allows them to survive—" Mrs. Dunlap broke in, her voice wry. "Right up there with that delicious baby smell. Kept me from drowning your sister, in particular, more times than I can recall."

With a quick glance back over her shoulder in the direction down which Iris had disappeared, she added in a softer voice, "I won't expect to see you until tomorrow. If you're not back by the time Iris wakes up, I'll tell her we're letting you sleep in and take her out to breakfast."

Heat flooded Carlton's face at the casual matter-of-factness lacing the older woman's voice. He hadn't felt quite so… exposed about his intentions since, well… pretty much since the last time he'd been in this house and Karen had confidently led him to her room that first night, Mr. Dunlap's disapproving gaze boring into his back the entire way down the hall. He'd been on the verge of offering to sleep on the living room sofa—or, you know, the garage—but Karen, his glorious, beautiful Karen, had maintained firm hold of his hand and after reassuring him her parents' room was on the other side of the house and there was no way they could hear anything and for God's sake, Carlton, they were married, had seduced the ever loving hell out of him.

That had been the last night they made love.

While he wrestled his self-consciousness under control—they were all adults, for crap's sake—Karen stepped forward and into her mother's arms for a brief, intense embrace. He heard her low tones, but couldn't quite make out the words—not that he really needed to. It was clearly a mother/daughter moment. A moment later, however, he found himself included as Mrs. Dunlap lifted her head to meet his gaze. In it, he saw a similar expression to what he'd seen in Iris' very similar blue-gray gaze—she was trusting him. In this case trusting he wouldn't break her daughter's heart a second time.

With a final smile and quiet "good night," she disappeared down the hall after Iris, leaving Carlton holding his breath as Karen turned to face him.

"So," she said with a smile and a light flush invading her cheeks.

"So."

The pink deepened and a desperate note entered her voice. "Carlton—"

"I have a surprise." He approached her slowly, his insides churning with a combination of apprehension and anticipation.

Karen's eyes brightened with a light of recognition. "Please tell me it's a hotel room." Her voice was low and throaty and harkened back to the many, many hours they'd once spent wrapped in each other.

"You've always known me so well." Dropping to a knee, he reached for her shoes and slipped them on, running his hands up her calves as he rose.

"Not for too damned long," she murmured as she stepped close, her breasts brushing his chest with the slightly unsteady breathing that matched his and even that was damn near enough to drive him straight out of his mind. "But I intend for that to change. As soon as you can get us the hell out of here."

And anxious as he was to do just that, Carlton simply couldn't resist leaning down and kissing her—hard. Maybe too damned hard, but she didn't seem to be complaining much. At all, actually. His arms reflexively slid around her waist and held on tight as she stroked her tongue against his and dragged her teeth across his lower lip in a way that left him seeing stars.

Drawing back slightly she murmured in a breathless rush, "Race you to the car."

His scrambled brain barely had time to translate the words before she was gone—not so much a sprite, but a siren, her call beckoning and oh-so-seductive.

Not simply his second chance, but his final chance.

With a grin, he took off after her.