Christmas with Daddy

He picked her up and she was quiet. With her bundled next to his chest, he went to the living room where he’d left Jessica’s notebook. For about the tenth time that night, he checked her instructions.

Eight o’clock, put Mandy to bed. She should sleep through until six or seven the next morning. He checked the time—it was only three!

Why hadn’t Jessica written any instructions about what to do if Mandy woke up this early?

Should he feed her breakfast? Offer her another bottle? Try to lull her back to sleep?

He was sorely tempted to call Bridget and ask what she thought. Though she had no children of her own, she seemed to instinctively know how to deal with babies. But to call her at three in the morning…he might be pushing his luck just a little if he did that.

He lifted Mandy until her face was right next to his. “It’s early, sweetheart. You’re supposed to be sleeping right now.” They were both supposed to be sleeping right now.

He put on the lullaby CD, but again, it was useless. Mandy seemed fine as long as he was holding her. A few times her eyes drooped shut…but as soon as he tried to lay her in the crib she started crying.

After forty-five minutes, he finally gave in to the inevitable and strapped her back into the stroller.

Outside, another inch of snow had fallen. He felt the thick flakes brush against his face as he headed to the far end of the block, then back. He did this four times. A man exited a town house on the opposite side of the street. He gave Nick a long look but said nothing, then continued to his car.

Remembering his own years of shift work, Nick felt a moment’s sympathy for the guy. Then he shook his head. Was he crazy? He was the one who deserved the sympathy tonight.

It was past four when Nick’s head finally hit his pillow for the second time that night. He could have sworn only five minutes had passed when suddenly his favorite news lady was talking about political developments in the Middle East.

Forget that. He pounded on the snooze button to shut her up. But he was too late.

Mandy started to cry.

AT HER FIRST SIGHT of him the next morning, Bridget could tell Nick had had an uneasy night with Mandy. He looked terrible. Eyes red, face badly shaven, his hair as rumpled as the shirt beneath his unzipped jacket. She opened the door wide to make room for the stroller. Nick was also carrying the pink diaper bag and another black vinyl bag.

“It’s a portable crib,” he explained, as she took it out of his hands with raised eyebrows. “So Mandy has a place to take her naps. Assuming she’ll sleep for you, that is.”

He slipped out of his boots and pushed the stroller into the living room. Glancing around, he asked, “Where are the dogs?”

“Out back, romping in the new snow.” She deposited the bag with the crib near the doorway to the spare room. “How did things go last night?”

“Terrible.”

“What happened?”

“Mandy didn’t go to sleep until one in the morning. Then she was awake from three to four.” He picked up his daughter, then extricated her from the snowsuit with the expertise of one who had done the same task many, many times before.

Mandy smiled winningly, then held out her arms to Bridget. “Hey, sweetie.” Bridget scooped her up. She smelled clean and looked happy.

“I just changed her diaper,” Nick confirmed. “And she’s had her breakfast…unlike me.”

The last two words were spoken so quietly Bridget didn’t think she’d been meant to hear them. “I baked muffins this morning. Would you like a couple?”

His face brightened. “That’s what smells so good in here.”

Hoisting Mandy to a hip, she headed for the kitchen.

Nick followed. “How do single parents cope? I doubt I had five hours of sleep last night. And this morning I had to rush through my shower and didn’t even have time to shave properly.” He rubbed the side of his face and shook his head.

Bridget watched him, fighting an urge to touch the other side of his face with her free hand. He did look rough this morning, she had to agree.

But on Nick Gray, rough wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.

She put two muffins into a plastic bag, then added an apple. “You can eat on the way to work. And don’t worry about Mandy. I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know you will. Thanks, Bridge.”

Bridge? Normally she hated it when people shortened her name that way. But coming from Nick, it sounded good. Friendly…almost intimate.

“You okay?” Nick’s voice held a touch of concern. “You got a strange look on your face for a second there.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Now you better hurry and get to work.” And get out of my sight so I stop fantasizing about you.

“Okay.”

She thought he was leaving, but instead he moved closer. So close that Bridget’s heart stopped. Good Lord, it was almost as if he intended to—

“Bye-bye, Mandy.” He lowered his head, his hair brushing against Bridget’s nose as he planted a kiss on his daughter’s cheek.

Bridget inhaled the scent of his shampoo. Kiss me, too, she couldn’t help wishing, even as she had the good sense to step back.

“I’ll see you around five,” Nick promised on his way out the door.

Bridget moved to the kitchen window and watched as he headed toward his car. She was willing to bet he was a good athlete. He was so sure-footed and confident in the way he moved. A man who knew where he was going and what he wanted.

What would it be like to be the sort of woman that Nick Gray was attracted to?

Over the years she’d often wondered that, experiencing a touch of envy for the girlfriends she’d seen dangling from his arm. A harmless crush was what she’d called these yearnings for her appealing neighbor. She’d never imagined that one day she might be tempted to act on her feelings.

Nick’s car started. He drove away. She stepped back from the kitchen window and, closing her eyes, remembered how it had felt to have his face so very near to hers.

NICK HAD NEVER been so happy to be at work. Boring paperwork seemed like a breeze compared to changing diapers. And he’d rather put up with a lecture from the captain about results, results, results, than deal with a crying baby in the middle of the night.

The priority today, of course, was making progress on the Tara Lang case. There’d been no new developments overnight, which was probably a good thing. It meant that with any luck Tara remained alive and well.

Though he figured the teen was still in Hartford, Nick checked the crime reports from nearby centers just to be sure. He tensed when he read about a murder-rape, in Springfield, of a young woman about Tara’s age, then felt a guilty wash of relief when he saw the victim had been already been identified as someone else. It seemed Tara had managed to survive another night out on the streets.

If, indeed, that was where she was.

“Hey, Gray, what’s up?” Glenn Ferguson, his partner, sank into the chair next to Nick’s. He was back in the city after tidying up loose ends on another assignment. “Any leads on the kid?”

“Just that tip yesterday.”

“Right. The mall. You checked it out?”

“Yeah. Nothing. I didn’t get even one positive ID.”