His Daddy's Eyes. Debra Salonen

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СКАЧАТЬ her memory as a Wizard of Oz kind of character. A big head and commanding voice, passing judgment on things he didn’t understand.

      “I’m sure it’s not an easy job, in fact, I can’t imagine one I’d want less.”

      Instead of being put off by her opinion, the man stepped around the display, bringing himself closer to Sara. It made sense since they were speaking in library-level whispers, but crazy alarms went off in her head, obscuring his reply.

      “It wasn’t high on my list, either, but when the governor asked me to fill a vacant slot, I felt I had to accept.”

      Normally, Sara might have credited his amiability to good manners and responded accordingly, but for some reason her long-simmering resentment over the justice system chose that moment to erupt. “You’re talking politics. I’m talking human lives. What makes you—or anyone for that matter—think you’re capable of deciding someone else’s fate? Doesn’t that constitute supreme ego?”

      His brows sank together in a more attractive way than Sara wanted to admit. “No, I don’t think so. Law limits a judge’s powers. Any judgment is based on evidence, and the law as it applies to that individual case.”

      “But how can you read a few lines on a sheet of paper or listen to two over-priced lawyers talk for ten minutes, then decide a person’s fate? Not everyone who breaks the law is a bad person,” she added in an even softer voice.

      His blue eyes were tempered with compassion, as if he knew she was speaking of herself. “I believe a person who breaks the law and pays his or her debt to society is a better person for it. The ones who break the law—from shoplifters to congressmen—and go unpunished are the losers. They have nothing to build on but guilt. What kind of legacy is that?” he asked.

      His words touched her, as did his tone and some elusive nuance in his manner, something that made her think he might actually be capable of knowing her without judging her. How crazy was that?

      “Ren?” a voice croaked.

      Sara blinked, dissolving the mesmerizing connection between them.

      The stranger straightened with such unexpected hauteur that Sara had to work at keeping her mouth from hanging open. He suddenly looked like a judge, not just some handsome man lending a sympathetic and understanding ear to her old grievances. Sara’s heart boomed in her chest—what had come over her?

      “Hello, Bo,” he said, turning to face Sara’s newest recruit. Bo hurried forward, displaying considerable shock at seeing his friend.

      “What are you doing here?” Bo demanded.

      “I had to work late and I remembered you were going to be here. I thought we could grab a drink when it’s over.”

      Sounds plausible, Sara thought, but it’s not the truth.

      Bo squinted at his friend a moment longer, then looked at Sara. She read something sad in his eyes. Anxious to help, she reached out to pat his hand, which gripped his book like a buoy. “It’s a very informal group, Bo. You can leave anytime. Besides, there’s always next week,” she said. “Did they tell you they’re switching to weekly meetings? What do you think? Do you want me to get you the next book?”

      His gaze flickered to his friend, whose grin provoked a snarling “Sure.”

      Confused by the antipathy between the two, Sara pulled back her hand. “Well…um, great. Stay put, and I’ll be right back.” She tossed a semi-smile in the judge’s direction, then dashed to her storeroom. She didn’t understand what was going on any more than she could explain what had come over her, but Sara cultivated new readers like flowers in a garden; she wasn’t about to let this one wither on the vine. Not without a fight.

      REN EYED THE BOOK in his friend’s hand, damn glad it wasn’t a gun. Prudently, he backed up a step, which also afforded a better view of Sara as she hurried toward a doorway marked Employees Only. His gaze followed the lithe form in the pale green dress. She moved quickly but with grace, back straight. Bo’s last photos showed her to possess a very shapely body with sleek calves and a trim derriere, but her business dress was of Shaker simplicity.

      “What the hell is this about?” Bo growled, taking a step closer.

      Ren raised his hand defensively—not that it would have done any good if Bo Lester took it in his head to beat him senseless. Ren had seen him in action more than once during Bo’s drinking years. “Pure impulse. I can’t explain it. I guess I needed to get it over with.”

      “You could have warned me.”

      Ren shook his head. “I didn’t know myself. I was supposed to meet Eve for dinner—she took the day off to drive her agent to the San Francisco airport, but she called from her car. Some big toxic spill up near Lake Shasta. I started home, then changed my mind.”

      Ren had only intended to peek inside the store, but something had come over him the instant he saw Sara Carsten—eyes closed, lips whispering a lullaby, rocking the sleeping child. The image was so ecumenical, so Madonna-like, that he felt drawn inside as if propelled by a force outside his body.

      And then Ren took the biggest leap of faith in his life. He’d picked up the baby. A child that could be his own flesh and blood. It was an idea so staggering and life-altering that he should have run in the other direction, but holding that compact little body seemed the most natural thing in the world.

      “Let’s get one thing straight. You hurt her and you’ll regret it.” The threat was so serious, so unexpected, all Ren could do was nod, as Sara hurried to join them, a cardboard box in her arms.

      “Sorry ’bout the wait. I’ve been hoarding these so long I couldn’t remember where I put them.” As she neared, she faltered a step as if sensing the primitive, masculine energy between them.

      She set the carton on a display table and picked up one small paperback. “The title is A.P.B. It’s a little police procedural—the first in a series. The rest of the group voted for something light this time.”

      Bo put out his hand. “I like crime novels. The good guys always win. The bad guys either end up dead or in jail. Right?” He shot a pointed look at Ren.

      She glanced from Bo to Ren. “Umm…yes.”

      Ren regretted causing her added disquiet. “My friend’s not a big reader,” he said, picking up a book. “I can’t tell you how great it is that you’ve been such a positive influence on him.”

      One slender brow lifted. “Bo may not read a lot, but he must like books. He’s been here pretty often.”

      “Oh?” Ren asked.

      She nodded. “In fact, the first time he came in was to ask about a rare book for a friend.” She clapped her hand over her lips, a blush claiming her cheeks. “This is your friend, isn’t it. The rare book collector. I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?”

      Bo seemed momentarily taken aback, but he recovered. “Actually, this is that friend, but since I’m not sure he deserves a Christmas gift this year, don’t lose any sleep over it, okay?”

      She was obviously puzzled by Bo’s response, but chose not to question him. Instead, she smiled. “My sister used to tell me I was notorious for speaking before my brain СКАЧАТЬ