His Mother's Wedding. Judy Duarte

you were a hero, too.”

      His voice had softened, hinting at a tenderness she’d yet to see in him. But she brushed off the hint of sentiment, as well as the compliment, unwilling to take any credit for doing what she’d always done—looking out for herself and her sister. “When the fire department arrived and found Lori and me unsupervised, with no food in the cupboards and the power turned off, they notified the police.”

      “I hope they nailed your old man for child neglect.”

      “They did. They also found drug paraphernalia all over the place.” In spite of her desire to be objective and informative in revealing the past, tears stung her eyes. She blinked away the emotion the best she could and continued. “Lori and I were taken to the county receiving home that night and got the first hot meal we’d had in ages.”

      “Good.”

      “Yes, it was. But they wouldn’t let Petey go with us.” She swiped at her eye, catching an escaping tear. “I think he ended up at the pound.”

      “At least he was better off there than on the streets.”

      “I hope so.” She sucked in a wobbly breath and slowly blew it out. “But I owed that dog something and I’ve always felt as though I let him down.”

      “You were a kid. And it was out of your hands.”

      “I keep telling myself that, but I still feel badly about leaving that sweet little dog behind.”

      “When did all that happen?” he asked.

      “Twelve years ago. I was eleven, and Lori was six.” She glanced at the table and swept her hand across the linen, flattening out imaginary wrinkles. “A couple months later the social worker told us that my father had signed the paperwork that released us for adoption.”

      Rico didn’t seem unusually sympathetic—or cynical—which actually made it easier to talk, to pour her heart out.

      His professional demeanor shouldn’t have surprised her, though. She’d done a little research on the Internet and learned that Garcia and Associates claimed to be both elite and discreet. And the firm had been enormously successful. She doubted a company achieved all that if the owner allowed his emotions to get in the way.

      And that was fine with her. She wasn’t looking for sympathy; she was looking for her sister.

      “Is that when you and Lori were separated?”

      “It happened about six months later. They found a home for Lori, but the couple who adopted her didn’t want two children, especially one who was almost a teenager.”

      “What was their name?”

      “I don’t know. When I asked the social worker if I could call or send Lori a letter, I was told that it had been a closed adoption. Her new parents thought she would be better off starting fresh, forgetting the past.”

      Forgetting me.

      Molly’s eyes grew misty again, and she cursed the emotion that welled in her chest. She’d only wanted to relay the facts that would facilitate his investigation.

      She’d never been a crybaby before, and for some dumb reason, it mattered what Rico thought of her.

      Damn. Rico didn’t know what to think, what to do.

      The story Molly had told him made him angry at her parents, angry at the system. And it pissed him off that he couldn’t think of anything to say or do to comfort her.

      He’d always been uneasy when women cried, which was a big reason he never let any of his dates or lovers get close enough to lean on him.

      Not that he couldn’t sympathize with people.

      Hell, he’d had clients that he’d felt sorry for, like good-hearted husbands and wives who’d learned their “loving” spouses had been cheating on them. Or poor Mrs. Chisolm, the grieving widow who’d known nothing about her late husband’s business, then had been bilked by an unscrupulous employee she’d trusted.

      But this was different. And it was too close to home.

      He handed Molly the linen napkin that had been draped across his lap, hoping she’d wipe away the painful memories, as well as her tears.

      “Thank you.” She took the cloth from him, then blotted her eyes and sniffled. “I’m sorry for falling apart.”

      “You’re allowed.” He cleared his throat, wishing he could say something comforting, something witty. When nothing came to mind, he clamped his mouth shut.

      “Lori is eighteen now,” Molly said. “And no one can stop us from being sisters again. So I need to find her.”

      “I’ll see what I can do.”

      “Thank you, but I don’t expect any favors.” She placed the napkin beside her water glass, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sat up straight. “I’ll pay your fees.”

      “We can talk about money later. I’ll do the initial investigation as a courtesy.”

      She sniffled again, and he struggled with the urge to reach across the table and take her hand, to offer her more than a napkin.

      Before either of them could speak, his cell phone rumbled.

      “Excuse me.” He glanced at the screen, saw a local number he didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

      “Honey, it’s me.”

      His mom.

      He glanced at the two empty place settings. “Where are you?”

      “I’m at Daniel’s office. And there’s been another emergency. He’s on call for another dental group this weekend, and I’m afraid we can’t make it to dinner for at least an hour. Please go ahead and order for you and Molly. We’ll pick up some fast food, then meet you back at my house. We can have coffee together. In fact, please save room for dessert. I made some of those fudge brownies you like.”

      Rico looked at Molly, wondering again if this was indeed a matchmaking ploy on his mom’s part. But what the hell. They were here now. Just the two of them. And he was starving. “Sure, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”

      When the line disconnected, he sat back in his seat and looked at his pretty blond companion. “It’s only going to be you and me this evening.”

      Molly arched a delicate brow. “Is it my imagination or do you get the idea that your mom is trying to set us up?”

      For a moment he stumbled on which direction to take. After all, he knew better than to get involved with any of his mom’s friends or acquaintances, especially since his relationships didn’t last very long and he didn’t want things to get…sticky for anyone involved.

      But Molly didn’t seem too head over heels about being with him. And the tone of her voice suggested she was taking this all in stride.

      “The same thought crossed my mind,” Rico admitted, “but I figured she’d given up on me a couple of years back. I’m not the marrying kind.”

      “Well, I am the marrying kind,” Molly said with a smile. “And your mom knows it. I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t want to get involved with you. You’re not my type.”

      He wasn’t?

      Why not?

      Not that it mattered. He was just curious, that’s all.

      Hell, even if he’d go so far as to have a fling with one of his mom’s friends, things would really get sticky if Molly was expecting white lace and promises while all he wanted from a relationship was sex.

      “So,” she said, “I think it’s easier if we let her know there’s no chemistry between us.”

      No chemistry?

      The hell there wasn’t. He’d seen her