Look-Alike Lawman. Glynna Kaye
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be.”
“He’s a child with so much potential. Elise—his mother—works hard to provide for him, to give him love and attention. But a troubled boy that age could use a strong male influence. Have you ever thought about our district’s mentoring program?”
“What’s that?” If it was what he thought it was, he wanted no part of it. He didn’t intend to get attached to anyone else’s kid ever again.
“It’s an opportunity to connect with children in a meaningful way. Too many in this part of town come from broken homes that are struggling financially. There are few good role models.” She lifted her gaze to his in appeal. “I’d love to see a youngster like Cory have a chance, not end up like so many drawn to street gangs in order to find a place where they feel they belong.”
“I doubt I’d be much of a mentor for a first-grader. Maybe an older boy, if I had the time. Which I don’t.”
“At least please give it some thought, Mr. Wallace.” Her cheeks flushed again. “I’m sure you noticed how the children—Cory—gravitated to you.”
Yeah, he’d noticed how Cory had sidled up to him, especially when he’d crouched to his level. How the boy had moved in close, basking in the attention. Jenna’s son had been the same. He and Michael had been drawn to each other. Grown close. Closer than Gray had ever been to a little kid. Did Michael understand why Gray was no longer a part of his life? Did Jenna explain it to him at all?
He shoved away the haunting speculation. “Cory’s a friendly little guy.”
“I know it’s your job to keep the ‘bad guys’ at bay, Mr. Wallace, but what if those bad guys had once had a man in their lives who cared about what happened to them?” Miss Gilbert’s smile again encouraged, but it would get her nowhere.
His memory flew to his brother who’d been raised without a father when their parents had split and each took two kids. Jack turned out okay, didn’t he? Then again, he’d grown up on a ranch, not in the heart of a big city.
“I don’t mean to pressure you,” the teacher amended, apparently mistaking his silence for annoyance. “But I’ve come to love Cory. A policeman like you, who’s already had a thorough background check, could move quickly through the mentor screening process.”
“Thank you for putting confidence in me, Miss Gilbert, but I’m afraid it isn’t feasible right now.”
“I understand.”
Sensing her disappointment, he realized it was time he drew the conversation to a close. “I’d better gather my own things and be on my way. Let you finish up and get started on your weekend.”
He shook her hand, then crossed the room to retrieve the box of “cop props” he’d brought to show the kids. He paused to pick up a baseball glove that had been kicked under a nearby table, but when he turned to give it to Miss Gilbert, she was no longer in the room.
He glanced down at the kid-size glove in his hand and smiled. He still had his own junior-size one stashed in a box in his closet. The kid who’d left this one behind wouldn’t sleep a wink all weekend not knowing until Monday if it was safe. Memories of the years he and his younger sister and brother had lived in rural Appleton flooded back. Of the times after the woman he knew as Mom died and Dad returned them all to the city and became immersed in medical school. Times when the highlight of his day was when his dad tossed a few balls with him before burying himself in his textbooks.
Gray thoughtfully turned the glove in his hands, noticing a name printed on it with a black felt-tip marker.
C. Lopez.
Cory, whose dad had died in an attempt to serve and protect. He started to toss the glove to a nearby table, but something on the inside edge caught his eye. A label. Cornelio Tomas Lopez.
And a street address.
The boy’s eyes, hungering for reassurance, pierced Gray’s memory—followed by the remembrance of the flashing gaze of his beautiful, standoffish mother.
Miss Gilbert said Cory’s mom loved him. That she did her best to provide for him and give him the attention he needed. He knew from his experiences with Jenna and Michael, though, that it wasn’t easy being a single mom raising a boy on your own.
He tightened his grip on the ball glove, his gaze lingering on the inner label.
No, don’t even think about it, Wallace.
Chapter Two
She’d just stepped out the front door when an unfamiliar silver SUV pulled up at the curb behind her car.
Cory’s Officer Wallace got out.
Elise’s grip tightened on her car keys. What was he doing here? How did he know where she lived? Surely Miss Gilbert wouldn’t share her address with a flirtatious cop of all people. If he’d followed her home to hit on her, he could climb back into his vehicle and head on down the road.
“Mrs. Lopez?” a warm, masculine Texas twang called out as he rounded the SUV and approached. His gaze swept the apartment house and yard in one of those looks she knew quickly—and accurately—assessed the neighborhood. These were her circumstances...and he clearly found them lacking. But his smile nevertheless broadened as he held up something in the hand unfettered by a sling. A baseball glove. “Cory forgot this.”
Thoughtful on the surface, but why had he made such an effort to deliver it personally unless he had an ulterior motive? She gave him an uncertain smile as he came to stand before her. He was taller than she’d originally thought, with a strong, clean-shaven jaw. High cheekbones. Straight nose. His confident, captivating eyes were an unusual light brown, like burnished oak edged with a darker shade. Thick, dark lashes.
Eyes a woman could too easily get lost in.
Nor had she missed that the hand extending from the sling’s edge was ringless—although it wasn’t uncommon for cops on duty not to wear one.
“I’m Grayson Wallace, ma’am. I visited the elementary school today. Met your son.”
As if Cory would let her forget. Or if she could forget her brief, disconcerting encounter with the handsome lawman. “Good afternoon, Officer Wallace. This is a surprise.”
“I imagine so.” Lines crinkled around the corners of his eyes as he undoubtedly recognized the suspicion in her own—telltale lines that signaled this was a man who liked to laugh. Who enjoyed good times. “I didn’t want him to go all weekend without his ball glove. I know when I was his age, I’d have gone crazy if I’d thought I’d lost mine.”
He held out the leather glove, his gaze never leaving hers, but she mishandled the exchange and it slipped from her fingers. His hand brushed hers as he deftly caught it.
“Sorry, ma’am. My fault.”
His gaze trapped hers once more as he again handed it to her. She tucked the glove securely under her arm, then brushed back a strand of hair straying from her chignon. She’d dealt with plenty of men who’d tried to overstep their bounds since Duke’s death. Returning a beloved baseball glove was one more creative ploy to get a foot in the door of her personal life. She could send this one packing, too.
“Thank you. Cory didn’t notice it was missing until we got home. Pretty upset. He wanted to call a policeman to retrieve it because I didn’t have time to go back.” Any excuse to see his Officer Wallace again.
“So it is a special glove.” The smiling eyes sobered. “His father gave it to him?”
Perceptive man.
She nodded. “For his fourth birthday. A few weeks before...”
Her gaze faltered as her voice drifted off. Some days it was still hard to talk about. Especially uncomfortable to discuss with another police officer.
“I’m sorry for