Aftershocks

“Sure. I don’t think I even got bruised when the elevator jolted.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, big bro. You know what I’m talking about. You and your model-gorgeous secretary looked like you were rolling out of bed when you got out of the elevator.”

“So we fell asleep while we were waiting. Get your nose out of my business.”

Whatever she’d guessed had gone on in that elevator, it was only a guess. He didn’t feel like talking about what had really happened, why and what he felt about it, because he wasn’t even sure himself.

Like most of his family, Shannon had urged him to get back out and start dating again. But he didn’t think sex in the elevator with his admin assistant was quite what she’d had in mind.

It wasn’t what he’d had in mind, either. But he had a feeling fate had taken a hand in his love life. And he was feeling pretty damned grateful to fate.

“I’m fine,” he said to his sister, and she knew him well enough to know that if he didn’t feel like saying more, he wouldn’t.

“You don’t look fine. You look like an eager boy with his first crush.”

“I can handle it.” He grinned ruefully. “At least I think I can. Speaking of nosy questions about love, how’s John?”

Shannon’s tired eyes brightened at the mention of John Forester, the man she’d fallen for last summer. He was still living in New York and they were making do with a long-distance relationship. She sighed. “He asked me to move in with him.”

“In New York?”

She nodded. “Don’t say anything to anyone else. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.”

“Can’t he be a modern man and move out here where all your family and friends are?” Patrick couldn’t imagine not seeing Shannon for months at a time, which would happen if she moved clear across the country.

“He can’t leave his mother. She’s…sick. Oh, hell, the woman’s a hopeless alcoholic, and she couldn’t function without him.”

Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets and wished he knew the right thing to say. Probably there wasn’t a right thing. “What are you going to do?”

“Think about it. John’s coming up for a visit in a few weeks. I guess we’ll have to decide then.”

“I’d miss you like crazy.”

“Hey, I love you,” she said.

“Back at you.” He’d given her a thumbs-up and sent her on her way.

Before he left, he called the building superintendent at home. “Sorry to bother you, Bert. I’m not sure if you heard, but the aftershock messed up the elevator at city hall.”

Bert Wilson sounded gravel-voiced with sleep. “I didn’t know about the elevator. I was planning to get in early anyway. I’ll do a post-incident property inspection before any of the employees arrive for the day.”

“Thanks, Bert. Give me a call if you find anything, will you?”

“You bet.”

Patrick would have made do with the leather couch in his outer office for a bed if it weren’t for the kids. But there was no way he could let them wake up without him being there when he hadn’t been able to tuck them in the night before.

Patrick never pretended to himself or anyone else that he was managing to be both father and mother to his kids, because it wasn’t true. He hoped he was doing his best, but with the string of disasters Courage Bay had faced, he’d been home less than he’d liked, even if Janie were still alive. Without her there, he had to rely on his housekeeper and sitters more than he wanted to. He always tried to be home to put Dylan and Fiona to bed, and not to leave for work before they woke. This morning, he was determined to eat breakfast with his children.

As he drove home through the dark, now quiet streets, he was conscious that he’d moved another step away from his wife. For the first time since she’d died, he’d made love to another woman. For all the euphoria that had pumped through his blood when he’d been with Briana, in the back of his mind and heart had been the knowledge that he was breaking another tie to the woman with whom he’d hoped to grow old.

“Oh, Janie,” he said into the silence of his car. “I hope I haven’t messed things up.”

When he’d finally seen Briana in the light after they’d been rescued, he wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but it was clear it wasn’t all champagne and roses. Of course, she’d looked a little shy when they’d first made eye contact after what they’d shared in the dark elevator, but she’d also looked…troubled.

She’d been as eager as he was in the elevator, though. Briana was the one who’d begged him to fire her temporarily so there’d be no sense of impropriety in what they were doing. Of course, her temporary dismissal was about as legal as a polygamous marriage, but right at that moment, neither of them had worried too much about workplace ethics. She’d wanted him as fiercely as he’d wanted her. What bothered him was afterward. How doggedly she’d insisted on staying on his staff. She was as good as telling him they wouldn’t be sleeping together again in the near future.

Patrick was no expert on the subject, but he had a feeling that now that his body had enjoyed sex with a warm and wonderful woman again after three years of celibacy, that same body was going to remind him with annoying frequency that it wanted more—lots and lots more—sex.

If he weren’t such a responsible guy, he’d almost have considered quitting his job so he could take his relationship with Briana out into the light. That’s how strongly he felt that the two of them could make a future together.

Of course, Briana shouldn’t have to quit her job for the sake of their sex life. She’d made it clear that she felt committed to Courage Bay. A sense of duty was rare these days, and that kind of high-minded attitude only made him want her more.

Well, as soon as he got the extra staff and funding that the emergency teams so desperately needed, and as soon as natural disasters started happening somewhere else on the globe for a change, Patrick was going to make sure one of them started looking for a new job.

However, at the moment he couldn’t forget about the job he did hold. He drove home by way of the convenience store, his belly knotting when he saw the mess. The roof had caved in, one wall was mostly rubble, and the windows had blown out.

On impulse, he pulled over and stopped the car.

The physical damage didn’t worry him so much. Walls and roofs and windows could be replaced. A human life never could.

He recalled the older woman who’d served him and his family. She always had a kind word for the children, and often a couple of lollipops would find their way from the jar she kept behind the till into two eager little fists.

God, the kids could have been there when the shaking began. Anyone’s kids could have. The corner store was a popular after-school hangout. If he could be grateful for anything, it would be that there weren’t more casualties.

It wasn’t much comfort, because even one death was a tragedy, but he’d have been less than human if he didn’t say a quick thanks that the children of Courage Bay, including his, were now sleeping peacefully at home.

He drove to his house, then entered as quietly as he could through the door that led from the garage into the laundry room. From there he crept into the kitchen. He headed for Fiona’s room first.

His heart squeezed as he gazed down at his little girl. She’d only been two when Janie died, and she didn’t remember her mother at all. In sleep she was angelic, her soft brown curls framing her round face, her lips opening and closing slightly as she breathed. She held her favorite stuffed hippo in her arms.

Patrick straightened the covers on her bed, kissed her forehead and went next door to his son’s room. Dylan wore baseball pyjamas and had kicked all his covers onto the floor. Patrick picked them up and replaced them, though he knew they’d be back on the floor by morning. He swore his son got more exercise when asleep than he did running around or playing sports.

He tousled the black hair that stuck out in tufts behind Dylan’s ears, just as Patrick’s had when he was a kid.

Returning to the kitchen, Patrick opened the fridge. Often the housekeeper left him a plate of dinner to microwave if he was late coming home, but since he’d planned to dine with Max Zirinsky, the police chief, there was nothing for him.

Most of the food in the fridge had been bought to appeal to people under the age of ten. Patrick passed on the hot dogs, the gelatin jigglers, the yogurt tubes, the peanut butter and the cheese strings. The mixed tropical fruit juice was no doubt healthy, but right now he didn’t want to drink anything quite that color.

Instead, he cracked open a beer, found some crackers and a block of cheddar. He made short work of all three, before taking himself off for the world’s quickest shower. In minutes he was falling into bed.

Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day.

CHAPTER FIVE

PATRICK WALKED into his office next morning at nine, having taken the time to have breakfast with Dylan and Fiona, and to thank Mrs. Simpson for staying the night. She’d had to run home and feed her cat and change clothes before returning for the day.

He knew he could call his parents, or his brother, Sean, or Sean’s wife, Linda, to help out when these emergencies arose. They would be there in a flash, if he called. But all of them had their own lives, their own responsibilities. And from the way Dylan and Fiona had climbed all over him and talked his ear off in their excitement to have their father to themselves for a morning, Patrick knew that he was the one his children needed to have around.