Father and Child Reunion. Christine Flynn

zone so he wouldn’t be in the way of the paramedics, Rio headed at a trot toward the man who appeared to be the driver of the semi. Even as he mentally winced at the teenager sprawled near the mangled motorcycle, he reminded himself to ask Eve if Olivia had kept any sort of a diary.

      * * *

      The pages of the calendar her mom kept by the phone in her study reminded Eve of her own. Notes, phone numbers and artistic doodles showing a flair for spirals and curves lined the margins. Most of the grids were filled in with birthdays or anniversaries of friends and professional commitments of one sort or another.

      Eve was on the phone, adding a few doodles of her own while making arrangements to cover one of those commitments when three and a half feet of nightgowned and pigtailed little girl came tearing into the comfortable, book-lined room.

      “Mommy,” she whispered loudly, as if whispering didn’t count as an interruption. “There’s a man at the door. A big one. I didn’t open it,” she added, well versed in the perils of “stranger-danger,” “but I saw him through the window. I waved.”

      Excusing herself to Betty Dodd, the intimidatingly efficient executive chairperson of the Children’s Center, Eve put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Is it Uncle Hal?”

      Molly gave an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know who he is. Want me to ask?”

      Eve had already changed into her nightclothes. Buttoning the long white cotton robe she’d thrown on over her chemise, she told her little girl that she’d take care of it and to go back to her movie, then told the woman who’d asked her to speak in Olivia’s place at a charity luncheon that she’d have to call her back. Eve wasn’t expecting anyone this evening. Especially not at this hour. It was after nine o’clock.

      The robe was fastened from mid-thigh to lace yoke when she hurried through the foyer. Passing the wide archway to the living room, she saw Molly sprawled in front of the television once more, watching Aladdin for the hundred and umpteenth time. Hoping the child would stay put, and pretty certain she would since her favorite part of the DVD was coming up, Eve glanced through the pattern of leaded glass on the door.

      Rio stood in the blue-white glow of the porch light.

      She opened the door but not the ornate metal screen.

      A frown of uncertainty slashed Rio’s chiseled features when his appraising glance slid from her neck to her knees. “You weren’t in bed, were you?”

      “Not yet.” Watching his frown settle between her breasts, she reached for the button at her throat. “I was on the phone.”

      “I know,” he muttered. “Your line’s been busy all evening.”

      She meant to keep him on the porch. Overriding her intention to join him out there, he pulled open the screen the moment she unlatched it. Or maybe, she thought, seeing his mouth pinch when she shivered, it was the fact that she was getting cold that made him decide to step inside.

      His rationale made no difference. Either way, Eve had to back up to avoid getting run over, but she refused to move any farther than the entry table. She wasn’t concerned about how Rio’s presence dominated the space, or even about his purely male interest when his glance strayed again to the sheer lace exposing glimpses of skin above her breasts. He could strip her naked for all she cared at the moment. What left her so unnerved was the fact that he was here, and so was Molly.

      Exercising the only control he’d left her, short of pushing him back out the door, she turned her back to the wide oak staircase so he wouldn’t be facing the living room.

      “This isn’t a good time, Rio. I know we need to talk, but maybe we could do it tomorrow. You can come back in the morning. Or I’ll meet you.”

      “Relax, Eve. This isn’t about us.” He pushed his hands into his pockets, his sigh heavy. “I just want to know if Olivia kept any sort of a diary here.”

      Relaxing was impossible. Not with him standing thirty feet from the daughter he didn’t know he had. Seeing him frown at her crossed arms, she did what she could to accommodate him and let them fall to her sides. “I don’t know that she kept one at all. At least, I haven’t come across one. I’ll look again and let you know.”

      And ask you later why you want it, she added to herself as she started for the door.

      He wasn’t going to be dismissed that easily.

      “What about a personal phone book? The kind that has family friends in it. Is that here, or did the police take it?”

      “It’s here. So is her personal calendar,” she conceded, but she didn’t get a chance to ask if his questions could wait. The chatter of animated voices drifting from the living room had given way to the strains of violins. Right on cue, Molly’s clear, sweet voice joined the cartoon characters on the screen serenading the world from a magic carpet. Dynamite couldn’t blast her away from this part of the show.

      A bubble of panic lodged in Eve’s chest when she saw Rio’s dark head turn to the living room.

      Molly was sitting up now, her back to them as she sang along with her favorite song. The child definitely had his attention, but with Molly glued to the television, all he could see of her was the back of her pink nightgown and two long, dark pigtails.

      “That’s your daughter?” he asked, without taking his eyes from the slender little back.

      Protectiveness joined panic. “Yes. And she doesn’t know anything that would be of any help.”

      His eyebrow arched at the easy way she’d read him. “People tend to underestimate kids. You never know what a child sees.”

      Had it not felt so imperative to put some distance between him and that particular child, Eve might have wondered how someone who’d wanted so little to do with children had come by such an insight. But with her nerves stretched thinner by the second, and unprepared for him to discover exactly who Molly was, creating that distance between father and child was her only interest.

      “Mom’s address book is in the study,” she said, snagging his attention once more. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll get it.”

      With one last glance toward the little girl now holding her arms wide as she belted out an amazingly clear high C, Rio stifled a smile and followed Eve down the hall.

      “How long have you been divorced?” he asked from behind her.

      Her heart gave an unhealthy jerk. “I’m not divorced.”

      That gave him pause. Or maybe, Eve thought, he was just silent because they’d entered the study and he was looking around. At her mother’s collection of law books, perhaps. Or the prints of wildflowers that saved the space from being too masculine. She honestly didn’t know what he was doing when she headed for the antique mahogany desk that bisected the narrow room. Nor did she care. She just wanted him out of there.

      “Are you widowed?” he asked, a little more quietly.

      Just as quietly, she responded with a soft “No.”

      Another moment passed. Eve could have sworn she heard wheels turning.

      “I heard that you didn’t have a husband.”

      With her attention on the drawer she opened, she murmured, “It’s nice to know the local grapevine is so accurate.” She held up the small brown address book, determined to keep his focus on his investigation for now. “What do you want with this?”

      Rio had come to a halt near the hunter green wing chair. His frown matched hers, but she couldn’t tell if it was because he now knew she’d never been married, or because she was holding what he wanted and she didn’t appear willing to give it up.

      “I’m looking for names of people Olivia knew so I can talk to them. Until you came back, I couldn’t get to any of her personal things.”

      It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what made him think he could