“I don’t know. It seems unlikely and I don’t know how he would find me. But all this”—she gestured to the empty dog pen and swept her hand to include O’Keefe—“being just a big coincidence seems really unlikely.”
She felt the weight of O’Keefe’s gaze and noticed that he, too, hadn’t taken so much as a bite of his slice of pizza.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked.
“That you never mentioned him,” he finally said and she knew that he meant in the short time they were together.
“That’s right. I thought I just explained that: I never mention him. To anyone. Not even to myself, if I can avoid it. I am only confiding in you because you’re looking for him, the boy I assume is he. I would appreciate as much confidentiality as possible.” With as much weight as she could muster, she leveled her gaze at him. “It’s a very private thing for me.”
“What about the boy’s father?”
“Out of the picture.” She should have expected that question, but still it surprised her. Stung a bit.
“Would the father contact Gabe?”
“No.”
“You sure?” he asked.
She shook her head and glared at the man across the table. “He doesn’t know I had a child, okay? And that’s the way I want to keep it.”
“There is such a thing as paternal rights.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned. I gave my son up, I refused to list a father on the birth certificate and that’s the way it’s gonna stand.”
She saw the confusion in his gaze, but, thankfully, she couldn’t find a hint of disapproval. Good.
“Look,” he finally said as she plucked a piece of pepperoni from the top of her piece of pizza. “It doesn’t really matter to me if this kid’s your son or not; I just want to find him.”
“Me, too.”
?
?And your dog.”
She glanced at the empty pen and nodded as she chewed on the pepperoni. “Yeah. I miss him.” Leaning back in her chair, she watched as O’Keefe finally opened his beer, a hissing sound escaping the aluminum can. “And I did double check. As I said, I’m missing some jewelry, nothing valuable, mainly has sentimental value, and the cash. I looked around and couldn’t find any of it.”
“Twenty bucks won’t get him far.”
“Hardly out of town.”
“If that,” he thought aloud before taking a long swallow from his beer and motioning to her uneaten slice. “Eat. We’ll figure this out. One way or another.”
She wasn’t convinced and her stomach was still in knots, but she tried the pizza and eyed his beer. Not even looking up, he slid the second can across the table. “Live a little, would ya? You’re wound tighter than my granddad’s pocket watch.”
Reminded of another time and place, of cool drinks on a warm verandah and palm trees catching the midnight breezes of Southern California, she thought better of accepting the beer.
This was all business.
They’d had their shot at intimacy and it had backfired. Literally. She caught the shadow in his gaze and knew he, too, had thought of their brief, but passionate time together.
“I think I’ll pass,” she said, her voice a little raspier than usual. Dear God, what was wrong with her? “I’ve got a lot of work and ...” She shook her head. “It just wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“No?”
“No.”
His gaze drilled into hers. “What’re you afraid of, Selena?” he asked, and the sound of her name off his lips did strange things to her. The answers were simple: