Between Love and Duty

“Oh. Well.” There was a pause before she murmured, “Who’d have thunk?”

Once again, he almost laughed. She’d had to ruin the touching moment between them.

“I’m full of surprises,” he agreed.

Her smile was merry and less…sharp than the earlier ones. “Yes, you are. So tell me, Captain MacLachlan, what do you do for fun?”

Fun. He had to think for a minute. How often did he do anything that he could call “fun”?

“I play basketball.” Suddenly he was smiling. “I gave Judge Lehman a bloody nose with my elbow in one of our last games of the season.”

Jane chuckled. “And you had the nerve to appear in his courtroom.”

“He repaid me with an elbow to the gut. I dropped to my knees retching.”

Her full-bodied laugh rang out.

“Like that image, do you?”

“I’m embarrassed to admit how much I do.”

He was still smiling, something he hadn’t expected to do in her company. She was irritating, all right, but also not as unlikable as he’d wanted to believe. Smart, edgy, amusing. He might enjoy spending time with her if he wasn’t so attracted to her. The combination was too threatening to a man who knew his limitations.

“Oh, it looks like they’re done.” She scrambled to her feet.

For an instant, Duncan had no idea what she was talking about. He was too busy taking in the sight of her long legs looking coltish even as she rose with the same grace she did everything. Skinny? No, she was willowy, slender, but definitely not skinny, which implied bony. Her curves were perfect, feminine.

Tito and Hector. That’s who she was talking about. Duncan’s head turned sharply and he saw the man and boy walking toward them. Tito had regained some reserve with his father, but not as much as when they arrived at the field. There was visible warmth between them, Duncan saw with narrowed eyes.

And he’d done a piss-poor job of observing them. He’d been too busy lusting after Tito’s Guardian ad Litem, the woman who’d decided a murderer was a fine and dandy father for a boy already flirting with trouble.

Damn, Duncan thought in shock. Maybe she was right. He was known for his intense focus. Maybe he couldn’t do two things at once.

CHAPTER FOUR

DUNCAN CALLED IN THE LATE afternoon a couple of days later to let Jane know he couldn’t make it to Hector and Tito’s second outing. She was disappointed, she knew, only because the whole thing was so ridiculously awkward. With Duncan there, her position felt less awkward. He was a distraction. Without him, she was left lurking like some kind of Peeping Jane.

Hector had taken Tito to a game arcade, which had the boy really excited. Hanging around the arcade, as noisy as it was, pretending she was interested in other people playing games while really keeping an eye on her targets, pretty much sucked as an evening’s entertainment. She so didn’t fit in. Plus, she’d been on her feet all day, and now for close to two additional hours, and she was beat and hungry and getting grouchy.

Finally she saw the two heading toward her. “You’re still here?” Hector said, when they reached her.

She knew darn well he’d been aware of her presence. “Of course I am,” she said with a smile that felt fake.

He rolled his eyes, letting her know what he thought. He appeared oblivious of the anxious look his son gave him. “We’re going for pizza now.”

“Where?”

He told her, then walked out with Tito. Technically the boy should ride in her car, not with his father, but she was willing to give them the three minutes or so it would take to get to the pizza parlor. She saw them get into a battered pickup truck, then jumped into her own car and followed them out of the parking lot. Her cell phone rang as she turned into the pizza place behind the pickup.

She groped for the phone.

“This is Duncan,” he said brusquely. “Is Tito still with his father?”

“Yes, we’re going out for pizza now.”

“I’ll join you. Where are you?”

She rolled her eyes and probably looked as adolescent as Hector had, but she was conscious of relief, too, as she told Duncan where to find them. She hadn’t been looking forward to sitting in a booth by herself. Maybe, she thought optimistically, Hector would invite her to join them. He’d already had time alone with Tito. If he wanted to impress her, he’d be a little friendlier.

But no. Father and son walked into the pizza parlor without even giving her the courtesy of a glance. She trudged after them. They had a spirited consultation and ordered, neither apparently interested in the salad bar. Then they headed for a booth, leaving her to order her own food.

Would Duncan be hungry? Would he want to share with her if he was? Who knew? She decided to be gracious and order a pizza large enough for both of them. If he didn’t want any, she’d take the leftovers home.

She’d gotten her salad and drink and plopped herself into the booth right next to Tito and Hector’s when she saw Duncan come in. He swept the room with a glance and homed in first on Tito and then her like a heat-seeking missile.

Jane waved him over. “I ordered a pizza. It’s got pretty much everything on it. If you want to share, you’re welcome. Anything else, you’re on your own.”

“Fair enough.” He went to the counter, and soon returned with a salad, as well, and a drink. He slid into the booth across from her.

Jane had decided to let him sit facing the other booth in hopes he wouldn’t be close enough to eavesdrop. She’d been trying, but was frustrated by the rapid-fire Spanish father and son were speaking.

Duncan was as intimidating as ever. Today he must have been wearing a suit, although he’d left the coat in the car and had pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned the top button on his white shirt, which was rumpled. She was a little surprised to see that he looked tired. His hair was disheveled and his eyes bloodshot. He let out a breath that was almost a sigh as he leaned back in the booth.

“Bad day?” she asked.

“Average to lousy.”

“Which part was lousy?”

His eyes met hers. “Do you really want to hear about my day?”

“We have to talk about something,” she pointed out.

He grunted, displaying his excellent male communication skills. “What are they talking about?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed, keeping her voice low. “Well, I’m getting the gist of it, but they’re talking fast.”

“In Spanish,” he realized.

“Yes.”

“You speak it.”

“Yes, but not well enough to keep up when somebody is chattering away at full speed.”

His eyes narrowed. “Which makes you a lousy chaperone.”

“There’s no requirement that I have to hear every word they exchange.”