Their Baby Girl...?. Marie Ferrarella

      She knew that Culpepper wasn’t trying to be insensitive. The oldest of them by twenty years, it was probably his fatherly way of suggesting that she herself find someone to marry, to give her baby a proper father. He had no way of knowing that he’d struck a bad chord.

      Picking up her purse, she pretended to look through it. “I think I left something back in the car.” Dropping the purse, she rose to her feet, keys in hand. “I’ll be right back.”

      “Pictures of the baby, I’ll bet,” Culpepper chuckled. He looked at Rodriguez. “They’ve always got pictures.”

      Warrick hurried after C.J. She’d managed to get far ahead of him in the hall. He lengthened his stride.

      “Hey, Jones, wait up. Didn’t the doctor tell you not to start jogging the same day you went back to work?” Catching up to her, he took hold of her arm, bringing her to a halt. “C’mon, C.J., stop for a minute and talk to me.”

      She didn’t want to talk to anybody. She wanted to kick something, break something. Vent. But because Warrick had placed himself in the line of fire, she took it out on him.

      “Did you know?” she demanded.

      He didn’t know if she was hurt or about to spit fire. With C.J. it was hard to tell. “I—”

      Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “Did you know?”

      He made it a point not to lie. Especially not to a friend. The closest he came was to omit mentioning things. But there was no space for that here.

      Warrick threw his hands up. “Hell, C.J. what do you want me to tell you? Yes, I knew. I heard via the grapevine last week just like blabbermouth in there.” He silently cursed Culpepper. Why couldn’t the man have been out of the office when she came back?

      “And you didn’t tell me.” How could he? she demanded silently. How could he have known and not told her?

      “Why should I?” He hadn’t told her because he didn’t want to reopen any wounds that might have been healing. “You said you moved on, remember? You told me in the hospital that you didn’t want to get in contact with him—ever.”

      “I didn’t. I don’t.” Confusion was running riot through her. She honestly thought she was over the man. But if so, why this sudden onslaught of pain? What the hell was wrong with her? “It’s just that…” Anger creased her brow as she looked up at him. “Damn it, War, here I thought he didn’t want to get involved and it was that he just didn’t want to get involved with me.” And being rejected stung. “I guess it just hurts my pride, that’s all.”

      He bracketed her shoulders with his hands. Wanting to protect her. Knowing she’d bite off his head if he even hinted at it. “Just goes to prove how stupid the guy really was, letting someone like you go. Look, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you reacting this way. He’s not worth it, C.J. You know it, I know it. End of story.”

      “Yeah, end of story,” she echoed, then thought of her daughter and how hard it had been to leave her this morning. She’d never known she could fall in love so completely and with such little effort. But she had. And if not for Thorndyke, Joy wouldn’t have existed. And all that love C.J. felt within her at this moment wouldn’t have even materialized. “I guess I got the best part of him anyway.”

      He’d been out in the field for the last week and hadn’t had time to drop by to visit C.J. “Speaking of which, how’s my future goddaughter doing?”

      C.J. thought of the way she felt walking to her car after dropping the infant off. Empty, as if a part of her was suddenly missing.

      “A lot better than me. I left her the center of attention at my mother’s house.” She’d never realized just how much her mother had wanted to be a grandmother. “My parents have more baby furniture and toys for Joy than I do.” This despite the impromptu shower the Mom Squad had thrown her when she’d come home from the hospital.

      He saw nothing surprising about that. “Why not? They had five kids—and an attic.” He crossed his arms before his chest. “So I take it she didn’t have any—what do they call it?—separation anxiety?”

      C.J. laughed shortly. “She didn’t. I did.” Even now she couldn’t help wondering what her baby was doing. Did she realize C.J. wasn’t around? Or was Mommy just another face to look up at? God, but she was getting mushy. How long before hormones adjusted themselves back into place? And then she looked at Warrick in wonder. “How do you know about separation anxiety, anyway?”

      He was the methodical one. “I thought that since I’m supposed to be her godfather, I should bone up on these things.” He looked at his partner pointedly. “I should also insist that she have a middle name to go with the first name. You can’t just call her Joy Jones.”

      She saw nothing wrong with that. “Why not?”

      “Do you want people to call her ‘J.J.’?

      “I don’t just want her to have any old middle name. I want the whole name to be special. To fit her.”

      Time was running out, Warrick thought. The christening was set for next week. “Okay, what d’you say I come over tonight after work with a book of baby names, and we’ll start tossing out names at her? One of them is bound to stick.”

      “Sounds like a plan.”

      He cocked his head and peered at her, the teasing note gone from his voice. “You going to be okay?”

      She tossed her hair over her shoulder, raising her chin. He was familiar with that move. It was her “the world can go to hell” gesture. “I’m already okay. Just took the wind out of my sails, that’s all. Worse things could have happened, right?”

      “Right. You could be marrying the guy.” They began to walk back down the hall when he stopped her again. “Hey, have you got any pictures of the baby with you?”

      She thought that was an odd question, coming from him. “In my purse. Brian’s been snapping his camera so much around her, she’s probably debating getting a career as a model right now. Why?”

      “Because Culpepper’s expecting you to come back with pictures.” He didn’t want the other man quizzing her and having his suspicions raised. Culpepper might come off as a busybody, but there was nothing wrong with his deductive reasoning. “He thinks that’s what you went to get from your car.”

      “I’ll just tell him I made a mistake.” But as they started to walk again, she placed a hand on his arm. She had to ask. “War, does anyone else know? About Thorndyke and me?”

      Warrick shook his head. “Not unless Thorndyke told them, and considering how fast he put in for a transfer to another field office after you told him, I really don’t think he did.”

      “Good.” Despite the fact that she was outgoing, C.J. hated having her business plastered all over the office.

      She supposed that gave her something in common with Warrick.

      “It was good to go back to work, but it’s even better to come back to you,” C.J. told her baby as she let herself into her house. “I forgot how long days could feel.”

      Still holding Joy in her infant seat, C.J. kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes. The rug felt good beneath her feet.

      Despite her mother’s protests and her offer to make dinner, C.J. had opted to come home to snare a little peace and quiet, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. The day had been deadly dull and overly long, at least it seemed that way. Their investigation was going nowhere—slowly. At times it felt as if every minute was being individually held hostage, doubling in size before it was released.

      She supposed that missing her daughter had something to do with that. At twenty-eight, she was surprised to find out something new about herself.

      C.J. rotated her neck, trying to ease away some of the tension. She looked