Chapter Three

"I can't stay," I said. "I have things to do. Important things."

"What things?"

"Um..."

I was sure there was something. I just didn't know what. Ranger kissed his way down my spine and I tried not to get too worked up. He slid his hands between my legs and my eyes nearly rolled back in my head.

We lay together when we were done, neither of us saying anything. It was comfortable for a while. Then it was awkward. What were we doing? Ranger had made it clear on more than one occasion that he didn't do relationships, so it wasn't one of those. And I wasn't comfortable with the friends-with-benefits thing, so it wasn't that, either. If I had to guess, I would say it was something in the middle. But what, exactly?

I pulled away and sat up on the bed, looking around for my shirt.

"Stephanie?"

"I have to feed Rex," I said. And it was the truth. I felt like I had been neglecting him these past few weeks. I got up and dressed and pulled on Ranger's windbreaker. It hit me mid-thigh. Ranger pulled on a pair of sweats and looked me over. Then he gave me one of those kisses that told me if I didn't leave now, I wouldn't be leaving for a long time.

I took the elevator from the seventh floor to the underground lot and climbed into my truck. It was after midnight by the time I got back to my apartment. I slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Morelli was lounging on my couch, one dusty boot propped up on my coffee table.

"You're working late," Morelli said.

I shrugged and dropped my bag on the floor by the door. Then I shuffled into the kitchen. Rex was in his soup can. I dropped a couple raisins in his bowl and Rex stuck out his head. He sniffed around and sucked the raisins into his cheek pouch. Then he turned around and went back to his soup can.

Morelli had followed me into the kitchen. He passed me a beer and half a roast beef sub. He studied me for a moment. Then he cut his eyes to Ranger's windbreaker.

"It's not what you think," I said to Morelli.

"Does it matter what I think?"

I took a swig of beer. "Maybe."

Morelli ran a finger loosely through one of my curls. "I think you're in over your head, Cupcake."

"If this is about Warner, Ranger's already-"

"It's not about Warner," Morelli said. "It's about you and Ranger." My cheeks flushed and Morelli put on his cop face. "I'm not going to pretend I like this. Ranger's dangerous. He's a psycho. But you're an adult and you can do what you want. God knows

I can't stop you."

Morelli moved into the living room and collected his jacket off the back of the couch. He slid it on and adjusted the collar. "Be careful," he said. "And call your mother. She's worried about you."

#

I showered and changed into an oversized T-shirt. Then I crawled into bed and ordered myself to sleep. I lay there for a while with my eyes closed, but it was no use. I was feeling confused and guilty. Hard to sleep under those conditions.

I understood the confusion thing. The guilt thing was new. Sure, I still had feelings for Morelli. Probably I would always have feelings for Morelli. But we weren't together anymore. We hadn't been for some time. So it's not like I had cheated on him. No guilt there. And there was no guilt on the Ranger front, either. We're both adults. And we're attracted to each other. So what was with this guilt thing?

I rolled over and opened one eye to the clock. Five-fifteen. I threw the covers off with a sigh and padded into the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and made a face. Bags under the eyes. Frizzy Howard Stern hair. And my Powerpuff Girls boxers were cutting into my skin. No wonder I couldn't fit through that window, I thought to myself. I've been pulling a Valerie and I hadn't even noticed.

Saint Valerie, my sister, had always been perfect. She had the perfect life, perfect kids, a perfect husband, and a Meg Ryan 'do. Then her husband took off with the babysitter and left her with nothing. Valerie came back to Trenton, moved in with my parents, got knocked up, and gained sixty pounds. Now she was doing Weight Watchers three times a week in preparation for her Christmas wedding to a bargain-basement attorney named Albert Kloughn.

I ran back to my bedroom and dragged out the scale. I checked to make sure the little lines met up just right, closed my eyes, and stepped on. I felt the scale sway back and forth, stepped off, and let out a sigh. That wasn't so bad. I took a deep breath and stepped back onto the scale. I opened one eye and looked down. Obviously, the scale hadn't had time to settle. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Then I opened my eyes and looked down again. One-thirty-seven. Stars danced before my eyes. I put my head between my legs and took in some deep breaths. How could this have happened?

TastyKakes, I said to myself. Too many damn TastyKakes.

I gave myself a moment to recover and then pounded into the kitchen. I threw open the fridge and started tossing things out. By the time I was finished, I had a garbage bag full of fattening foods and an empty fridge. It seemed like kind of a waste, so I dug around for the last can of beer and a half-eaten jar of peanut butter. I ate two heaping tablespoons of peanut butter and washed it down with the beer. There. No more guilt about starving kids in third-world countries.

And no more TastyKakes, no more doughnuts, no more Snickers bars or Reese's cups.

I dragged the garbage bag into the hallway and forced it down the garbage chute. Then I changed into a white T-shirt, blue sports bra and matching blue leggings, and laced up my Reeboks. I stuffed my black-on-black Bond Enforcement shirt, black jeans, and an extra set of undies into my duffle, along with my makeup bag, and set out for the office.

I parked in the underground lot and took the stairs to the fifth floor. It was halfpast-six and the gym was empty. I set my gym bag on the floor and shrugged out of my tee. There were floor-to-ceiling mirrors on all four walls. The room was filled with electronic torture devices, none of which I knew how to operate. I picked out the most generic-looking treadmill I could find and followed the instructions for a four-mile run.

The belt started moving and I hopped on.

A few years ago, I'd taken up running with Ranger. It had lasted all of three days. Now I remembered why. Five minutes into the run and I thought I was going to die.

My legs burned. My head was pounding. There was a stitch in my side and I was sure one of my lungs had collapsed. I was down to two minutes. I closed my eyes and wiped the sweat from my brow. One minute. Fifty seconds. Thirty seconds. Come on, Stephanie. The treadmill slowed to a stop and I had to use the bars to steady myself. I stepped off and collapsed in a heap on the floor. I clasped my stomach and tried to regulate my breathing. My heart was thumping in time to the pain in my head. I couldn't imagine anyone doing this for fun.

I rolled over onto my back and looked up. Ranger was standing over me, smiling all two-hundred watts. He was freshly-shaven, dressed in a black tee and cargo pants. He nudged me in the ribs with the tip of his boot.

"They called me from the control room," he said. "This I had to see for myself."

"If I had any strength left, I would kick you."

"Kick me?"

"Hard." I pulled myself up into a sitting position. "I'm gonna throw up."

Ranger picked me up and helped me into the locker room. I bent down in front of the closest toilet and ralphed up the beer and peanut butter. I rinsed my mouth, and sank down next to the sink. Ranger ran a cloth under the cool water and placed it on my forehead.

"Thanks," I said.

"You're welcome. Feeling better?"

"Not really. I think I may have collapsed a lung."

Ranger gave an almost-grin. "Is this about the window?"

"Among other things."

He pulled me to my feet and held me steady while I regained my balance. My legs still felt like jelly, but were starting to become solid again. I pulled my T-shirt back over my head and picked up my duffle bag, and followed Ranger to the elevator. He unlocked the door to his apartment and ushered me inside.

"I'm going downstairs to make sure they don't have your workout on playback," he said.

"Can they do that?"

Ranger looked at me, but didn't say anything. Gulp. Then he closed and locked the door behind him.

I carried myself to the bedroom, stripped, and peeled the bandage away from my back. I stepped into the shower and immediately I was sucked in by the smell of Bulgari. I resisted the urge to have fun with the shower massager. For one thing, people go blind for doing that. I don't know any off-hand, but I'll bet there are some. For another, the thought of Ranger walking in on that was too disturbing to think about.

There was a knock at the door, and Ella bustled in with two breakfast trays. Ranger sat at the table and unfolded a section of newspaper. Then he treated his bagel with a smear of cream cheese and took a bite. I looked down at my own plate. Three seven-grain pancakes, with tons of butter and maple syrup on the side. I arranged the pancakes in a pile, forced some butter between the flaps, and smothered the entire thing in syrup. I took one bite and my stomach took a dive.

I put my fork down with a clang. Ranger folded the newspaper and set it aside.

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "I'm just not real hungry this morning."

Ranger gave me a look and took another bite of bagel. "You're always hungry," he said. And it was true. I loved pancakes. Hell, I love anything with the word cake in it.

Birthday cake, wedding cake, pancakes, crab cakes, chocolate cakes. You name it.

"I had a big breakfast," I lied.

Ranger grimaced and took a sip of coffee. "I saw your breakfast, Babe," he reminded me.

I poured myself some coffee from the carafe and took a sip. I still had syrup-taste on my tongue and the smell of pancakes kept wafting up my nose. The more I smelled it, the more quickly my stomach flip-flopped. I excused myself from the table, grabbed my bag, and secured my gun at my hip. I clipped my cell phone to my belt and called to

Ranger, "See you downstairs."

The morning was slow. I finished up the requests from last night, and waited for new ones. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I called my mother and agreed to come for dinner. Then I fished around the kitchen and ended up with an apple and bottle of water. My phone buzzed just as I had taken the first bite. I wiped juice from my chin with my sleeve and answered.

"Stephanie, thank God." It was Mary Lou. "You're not going to believe this. I'm pregnant. Fucking pregnant!"

"Uh-oh. Are you sure? Have you taken a test?"

"Are you listening? I'm pregnant! I don't need a test to tell me I'm pregnant! I just know."

Then Mary Lou broke down into a fit of sobs. Half an hour later, I agreed to pick up a test and drop it off. I went back to my cubby, locked the computer screen, and grabbed my jacket. I made a mad dash for the elevator and caught it just before it closed.

I picked up an EPT two-pack at a chain drugstore in center city, made an out-of-the-way trip for doughnuts and coffee, and parked at the curb. Mary Lou met me at the door.

"You are a godsend," she said, foregoing the coffee and taking a doughnut in each hand. "Did you get it?"

I opened the brown paper baggie and pulled out the box. Mary Lou stopped chewing and stared, terrified, at the box.

"Breathe," I told her, taking the doughnuts away and replacing them with the box of test strips. I walked her to the bathroom and shut the door, and waited. Ten minutes later, Mary Lou burst out.

"I can't," she said.

"You can," I assured her.

"No, Steph, I can't. I can't go. I've got performance anxiety. I'm under too much pressure. I need a doughnut."

"You just had a doughnut."

"Well, I want another. I'm having a baby, damn it, I need sustenance!"

Mary Lou burst into another crying jag and I handed her a strip of toilet paper. "I'm sure it's just a false alarm," I told her. "I have an idea. You take one test, and I'll take the other. That way we'll both be scared shitless."

Mary Lou looked at me and nodded. Then she went back into the bathroom and closed the door. I heard her turn the faucet and a few moments later she came out with a look of accomplishment stretched across her face.

I slipped into the bathroom and opened the test strip. It looked easy enough. Pee and wait. I turned on the faucet and concentrated. Before too long I'd gotten a pretty steady stream, and plunged the stick under. I replaced the cap and stuck the test strip on the vanity beside Mary Lou's.

Mary Lou was perched on the edge of the couch when I came out.

"Did you do it?" she asked. "Did you see mine? What did it look like? One line or two?"

I took Mary Lou by the shoulders and forced her back onto the couch. Two of her three kids were running around somewhere, laughing and throwing things against the wall. Mary Lou just sat there, wringing her hands and looking dejected. I knew how she felt. The moment I looked at that test, I puckered. Serious, deep-down puckering.

I tried to tell myself to relax, that I wasn't the one on trial. Of course I had nothing to worry about. Unless...

Shit.

My gut flattened itself against my spine and plummeted the length of my torso. Ranger. A couple times we hadn't used anything. But I was on the pill, so that was okay, right?

The bells and clanging came back. I stuck my head between my legs and began pleading with God. I'll be a better person. I'll return my mother's calls. I'll go to church.

I'll never ever have sex again...

I amended that last one by adding without a condom and hoped God would accept it, anyway.

Mary Lou tapped me on the shoulder. The jury back with the verdict. She had a huge grin on her face, and said, "I'm gonna have a baby."

I exhaled a sharp breath of relief and looked at her test. There was no doubting it. Two lines. I took the other test and checked it. One line in the square, and nothing in the circle. Phew.

I left Mary Lou's house weighing about two pounds. Just like that, a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I pulled into the underground lot and bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time. I stopped at the second-floor landing and took the elevator the rest of the way up to five. That bounding-up-the-stairs stuff really takes the breath out of you.

I sauntered across the room back to my cubby, and parked myself in the big leather chair, kicking back with my feet crossed on the desk. I emptied my inbox, hummed the entire score to Rent, and fantasized about Batman.

Ranger appeared out of nowhere and I felt a pool of warmth in my belly. He was wearing a black cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, black jeans, and boots. The boots looked new, not dusty or scuffed, which meant he hadn't been busy with field work. His hair was damp, and he smelled like fresh Bulgari gel. He leaned against my desk, looked me over, and smiled. I smiled a huge smile back.

"The last time I saw a smile like that, I was taking your underwear off with my teeth." Ranger paused and leaned forward, tipping the chair back. He slid his knee between my legs and rested it on the chair. "Tell me I won't be disappointed."

He was taunting me, enjoying the chase before he went in for the kill. I was feeling brave. Not save-the-world brave, or even squish-a-bug brave. But definitely brave enough for a game of tag. I ran a finger behind Ranger's ear, traveled down his neck to his chest and beyond.

"Babe." His hand caught my wrist before I got to any of the good parts. He moved his knee and leaned back against the desk, almost, but not quite, out of reach.

"I thought you weren't worried about that," I said, nodding in the direction of the camera in the far-left corner of my cubby.

Ranger let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. "I haven't had a camera on you since that time you dropped an M down your pants."

My face flushed. "Hey! Ever heard of the Five Second Rule? I got it back with time to spare."

"And distracted six of my men in the meantime."

Impressive.

Ranger leaned back into me and released my hand, calling my bluff. "I'm late for a meeting," he said. "Are you free tonight?"

I shook my head, no. "I have a date," I said, not feeling the least bit guilty for leaving off the part about it being with my parents. Ranger's eyes flashed. "Morelli?"

I shrugged.

Ranger's mouth flattened into nothing more than a thin line. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine. "You're playing with fire," he said.

Then he turned and walked away, leaving me excited and craving a doughnut.