Heart of the Raven. Susan Crosby

tried to turn off his appreciation of her as a woman, but he couldn’t. She was beautiful, pure and simple. And unaware of it. If she used makeup at all, it was minimal. She pulled her hair back into a simple braid. No fuss, no muss. Her body was athletic and curvy, a one-two punch to a man who’d recently convinced himself that celibacy should be the only path for him from now on, but who obviously wasn’t capable of such a sacrifice.

      Aside from her spectacular face and body she had a mind that appealed, too. And she didn’t giggle.

      The doorbell rang. He hadn’t meant to make her wait, but he’d been distracted by thoughts of her—didn’t want to be, but he was. This time, however, he would control his response, even though her passion-filled promise that she would find his baby was as seductive as her physical being.

      He set the little white teddy bear he’d been holding onto a nearby rocking chair and headed into the foyer. He opened the door, hope in his heart.

      All hope fled when he looked in her eyes. “Tell me,” he said.

      “Can we sit?” she asked.

      “Tell me.”

      Her mouth tightened. “Are you sure she’s pregnant?”

      Not dead. Not dead, or she would’ve said so right away. Relief rushed through him like three straight shots of bourbon, hot and dizzying. “Yes.”

      “Positive?”

      “Why?”

      “Because Dr. Sorenson’s office says she wasn’t a patient. How do you know for sure she was pregnant?”

      “I felt the baby move.”

      “I don’t mean to question you on this, but—”

      “She let me put my hand on her abdomen many times while she visited. Sometimes she lifted her blouse enough that I could watch the baby move inside her. I’ve been through a pregnancy before, Cassie.”

      She propped her fists on her hips and looked at the floor, blowing out a breath. “I thought she’d been toying with you. Playing you for—” She stopped.

      “A fool? A sucker?” he finished.

      She shook her head. “A decent, but vulnerable man. One with money.”

      He let the words linger for a few seconds.

      “What’s the next step?” he asked, ignoring the implications of what she’d said. “You can’t call every doctor in the city.”

      “Yes, I can.”

      It took him a moment to let that idea sink in. “You’re kidding.”

      “I’ll start with the obstetricians, of course.”

      “You can’t possibly—”

      “Yes. I can. And I’ll try to hook up with the roommate tomorrow. I think that’s our best chance for information. The problem I’m going to have with calling the doctors is that there are so many group practices. I would be asked which doctor, and I can’t name more than one.”

      “So, it’s a long shot.”

      She smiled at the understatement. “We could get lucky.”

      He admired her resolve. “What can I do?”

      “Be here if she calls or comes by.”

      “That goes without saying.”

      She studied him. “Are you sure you’ll be able to leave the house if you need to?”

      He didn’t like being questioned, wasn’t used to it. “Has it occurred to you that I choose to stay in my house? That it’s a conscious choice I made?” He leaned toward her. “I will do what needs to be done.”

      “Why haven’t—”

      “The subject’s not on the table, Cassie.”

      It ended not only that particular discussion about why he didn’t leave the house but also their conversation in general. He walked her to the front door.

      “Did you design this house?” she asked.

      “I did.”

      “It’s spectacular.”

      “But?”

      “No but.”

      “Yes, there is.” He heard it in her voice even if she didn’t realize it.

      She shook her head.

      Ah. Keeps her own counsel. He liked that.

      “If Eva had simply disappeared, without leaving a note,” Cassie said, her hand on the doorknob, “this whole situation would be different. The police would get involved. We would have access to their resources. I still think someone at her office could help.”

      “I refuse to cause problems for her at work if she’s just having some kind of hormone overload. I’m already disregarding her wishes by hiring you to try to find her, for which I feel no guilt whatsoever, by the way. That’s my child she’s got. My life she’s playing with, as well.” He shoved his hands through his hair, locked his fingers behind his neck and made himself calm down. “Look, I’m trying to do the right thing here. It’s my fault she’s pregnant.”

      “You know, Heath, these days I think we consider pregnancy a dual responsibility.”

      “She was young.”

      “Not that young. And you were vulnerable.”

      It was the second time she’d used that word to describe him. He didn’t like it. Who was she to come to that conclusion so quickly?

      “Vulnerable doesn’t mean weak,” she said, somehow reading his mind. “It means you’d been hurt so deeply you didn’t want to survive, but you did, so you have to deal with it, but it’s harder for you than for others. Most people can’t cope too long without the company of other people, of a compatible partner, no matter how short-lived.”

      “Personal experience?”

      “I haven’t lost a child.” She opened the door. “I’ll be in touch when I have news.”

      “I want progress reports, not just news.”

      “No problem.”

      He didn’t want her to leave…but he couldn’t ask her to stay.

      Three

      Cassie grabbed an official-looking envelope from the passenger seat then headed into Eva’s apartment building. The hallway was surprisingly bright and cheerful. Someone was playing a clarinet, repeating the same section again and again. The fragrance of sautéing onions drifted, mingling with something spicy. Curry? It was five o’clock on Friday night. She hoped to catch Eva’s roommate before she headed out for the evening.

      Eva and Darcy lived on the third floor. Cassie climbed the stairs then knocked on the door. After fifteen seconds she tried again. No one answered. No sounds came from inside.

      She propped her shoulders against the wall next to the door to wait. So much of her job involved patience. She surprised even herself that she not only coped well with all the waiting involved but that she didn’t even mind it most of the time. Surveillance was often boring, but she was so grateful to be working for ARC that she didn’t even mind the long, dull hours sitting in her car waiting and watching for something to happen. Her life had changed drastically since Quinn had hired her late last year.

      An image of Heath popped into her head. A fascinating man, simmering with emotion he carefully controlled. Talented and intelligent. Angry. Somber.

      He had good reasons to be somber. Cassie had learned that his five-year-old son, Kyle, had died in a school bus accident three years ago, and that Heath had been with him but couldn’t save him. Heath was still married at the time,