To get pregnant.
And then to leave.
She let him go on that thought because the idea of leaving was less pleasant than the other thoughts had been and she didn’t want him to see any hesitation on her face.
“Fine.” He nodded and stepped out onto the porch. Settling his cap on his head, he looked at her from eyes shadowed by the black brim of the cap. “Three weeks. I can handle it if you can.”
Then he stomped down the steps, circled the house and headed for the stairs to his apartment. The dogs erupted into howls, yips and barks and Tina chuckled when she heard Brian mutter, “Shut up, you little beasts.”
Handle it?
He might think he’d be able to handle it, but Tina knew that she was getting to him. Knew that before the next week was up, she’d have him just where she wanted him.
The only question was, would she be able to handle leaving him again when the three weeks were over?
Bright and early the next morning, Tina dressed carefully in cream-colored linen slacks and a pale russet blouse. Then she snapped Peaches and Muffin onto their leashes and headed down the street.
It felt strange to go for a walk. Too long in California, she thought. Out there, people drove a half a block to a store rather than walking. Traffic was awful because carpooling had never taken off. Californians liked their cars and their sense of independence too much to share rides. They wanted to be able to go, when and where they wanted to.
Here in Baywater though, the quiet streets were made for walking. The sidewalks rose and fell like waves on the ocean as they climbed over tree roots. But when the sidewalks split, the city came out and patched the cement. A much better solution to Tina’s way of thinking, than the California answer to growing trees—which was to rip them out at the roots and plant newer, smaller trees. And then when they grew, rip them out and start over again.
The trees in Baywater, left alone to do what trees did best, stretched out leafy arms toward each other, making thick green arches over the wide streets. Kids rolled by on skateboards, neighbors worked in the garden and everyone had a swing on the front porch, just made for sitting and watching the world roll by.
God, she’d missed it.
“Hi, Mrs. Donovan,” she called and grinned when the old woman pruning her roses lifted a hand and smiled.
“That’s another thing,” Tina said, talking to the dogs as they pulled her forward, “neighbors actually talk to you here. They smile. Nobody ever smiles on the freeway.”
The dogs didn’t care.
Tina’d never really thought about the differences between South Carolina and California much before. Mainly, she guessed now, because if she had, the homesickness would have crippled her. Always before, her visits to her grandmother were quick and so full of activity or just plain sitting at the kitchen table talking, that she didn’t get the chance to wander around her hometown. To appreciate the quiet beauty and the peaceful atmosphere. To give herself a chance to wind down from all the hurry up and wait in California.
Now that she had, it was addictive.
Muffin and Peaches strained at their leashes, wandering back and forth until the twin, red leather straps were hopelessly tangled and they were just short of strangling each other in their enthusiasm. Tina laughed and skipped over Peaches as she darted backward to smell something she’d missed.
Quickly, Tina bent down and did a hand over hand thing with the leashes until they were straight again. “Now, how about single file?” she muttered and laughed as Muffin’s tongue did a quick swipe across her chin.
Straightening up, she started walking again and as the dogs’ tiny nails clicked against the sidewalk, she thought about her latest plan.
Tina had spent a long, sleepless night thinking about Brian and what he’d said. Or more importantly, what he hadn’t said. And just before the first streaks of light crossed the dawn sky, she’d realized what she had to do.
Talk to the one Reilly brother who wouldn’t lie to her. The one man she knew who was obliged, by virtue of his career, to tell her the absolute truth.
Father Liam.
Chapter Five
The rectory at St. Sebastian’s Catholic church was old and elegant. Built in the same style as the small church, the rectory, or priest’s house, looked like a tiny castle, squatting alongside the church itself. Ancient magnolia trees filled the yard and their wide, silky leaves rustled in a barely felt breeze as Tina approached.
The rectory’s weathered gray brick seemed to absorb the summer sunlight, holding it close and giving the building a sense of warmth, welcome. Sunshine glinted off the leaded windows and the petunias crowding huge terra cotta pots on the porch were splotches of bright purple, red and white in the shadows.
Muffin and Peaches raced up the sidewalk, dragging Tina in their wake and she was laughing as she rang the doorbell. An older woman, tall, with graying red hair and sharp green eyes, opened the door and asked, “May I help you?”
“Hello. I’d like to see Father Liam, if he’s here.”
The woman gave Tina a quick but thorough up and down look, then nodded and stepped back, issuing a silent invitation. Tina stepped into the room and gathered up the leashes tightly, keeping the dogs close at hand. She looked around and smiled at the dark wood paneling, the faded colors in the braided rugs and the sunlight spilling through windows to form tiny, diamond shapes on the gleaming wood floor.
“He’s right in there,” the woman said, reaching for the leashes. She spared a sniff as she added, “I’ll take your dogs to the backyard while you talk to Father.”
Before Tina could agree or not, the woman had Muffin and Peaches in hand and headed down a long, narrow hallway toward the back of the house. Shrugging, Tina crossed the hall to the door indicated, knocked and pushed it open.
Liam was sitting in an overstuffed chair, his feet up on a magazine-littered coffee table. He dropped the book he was reading, grinned and jumped to his feet when he saw her. “Tina!”
He crossed the room in a few long strides and enveloped her in a fierce, tight hug. Tina held on for a long minute, grateful for the warm welcome. Brian had certainly made it a point to let her know she wasn’t wanted. Getting this kind of reaction from Liam soothed her bruised feelings.
When he grabbed her shoulders and held her back for a long look, he grinned. “You look terrific. And it’s so good to see you.”
“Thanks, Liam. Good to see you, too.”
“Come in, sit down.”
“Sure you’re not busy?” She glanced around, but all she saw were the magazines and the open book, now lying on the carpet.
“Nope. Just reading a murder mystery, but it can wait.” He took a seat beside her on the couch. “When did you get in? How long are you here for?”
“A few days ago and three weeks,” she said, smiling. Priest or not, Liam Reilly was the kind of man women noticed. His black hair, longer than his brothers’ military cuts, was thick and wavy and his deep blue eyes were framed by long, black lashes. Tall and lean, he walked with an easy grace and his mouth was usually curved in a grin designed to win female hearts. There’d been a lot of disappointed women in Baywater when Liam entered the priesthood.
He looked at her carefully, tipped his head to one side and asked, “What’s wrong?”
She laughed shortly. “You must be psychic as well as a priest.”
“Nope,” he assured her with a grin. “Just incredibly handsome and charming.” Then he added, “But I know my people and my instincts are telling me there’s something bothering you.”
“Score