The vehicle, a Jeep Cherokee, pulled into his driveway and stopped. The driver's side door flew open. Kate appeared. Their gazes met and with a cry, she ran to him. He met her halfway and enfolded her in his arms, holding her trembling body close. She clung to him, cheek pressed to his chest, shoulders shaking with her tears.

"Thank you, Luke…thank you for taking us in."

"Kate…Kate…" He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. He drew slightly away so he could look into her eyes. "What's going on? Where's Richard?"

The front passenger door opened and a young woman stepped out. "Kate," she said softly, hesitantly, "the baby's awake."

Kate nodded, but held him a moment more before pulling away to retrieve Emma from her car seat.

The infant looked and sounded anything but happy. "Take her inside," he said. "I'll get your bags."

"There aren't any."

He looked at Kate. "No luggage?"

"No. Just Emma's diaper bag."

"I'll get that, then." He motioned toward the front door. "Go on and get Emma inside."

He grabbed the bag, locked the car and followed the women inside. He found them waiting for him in the foyer, both looking exhausted and more than a little lost.

Emma squirmed in her mother's arms, making short, high sounds that weren't cries but definitely sounded unhappy. "Is she all right?" he asked.

"She needs to eat. And be changed, probably."

He nodded and led them into the kitchen. One of the reasons he had bought this house was the open floor plan. The entire downstairs living area-with the exception of the bedrooms and bathroom-was open, one room flowing into the other. The other reason he had bought it was the spacious, third-floor room he used for his office. It had wall-to-wall built-in bookcases and an arched picture window from which he could see the entire street and beyond.

Kate propped Emma on her hip and went to work filling a bottle, then warming it in the microwave. He turned to the other woman and smiled. "I'm Luke."

Before her friend could respond Kate said, "I'm sorry, this is Julianna."

Something about the way she said the other woman's name suggested they were anything but friends. He arched his eyebrows and held out his hand. "Hello, Julianna."

She took it, returning his greeting. Only then did he see the red splatters on the young woman's shirt and shorts. He stared at them, thinking they couldn't be what they looked like. They couldn't be blood.

He returned his gaze to hers. She watched him, something akin to terror in her shadowed eyes. She crossed her arms over herself, as if to hide the telltale splatters from him.

Not only could they be blood, he'd bet money they were.

He turned to Kate. "We have to talk."

She shook her head. "Later. Okay?"

It wasn't okay. He lowered his voice. "Where's Richard?"

Kate looked at Julianna, then back at him, a bitter-sounding laugh spilling from her lips. "Dead. He was murdered four nights ago. Today was…today I buried him."

Luke stared at her in shock. "Jesus, Kate. My God, I…I don't know what to say."

"I need to use the bathroom," Julianna said suddenly, struggling, Luke saw, not to cry. "Could you tell me where it is?"

"I'll show you." He turned back to Kate. "I'm going to get Julianna settled in upstairs. While I do, make yourself at home. I'll be right back."

Luke ushered Julianna to one of the guest rooms. "The bathroom's connected, if you want to shower, help yourself. There are towels on the rods and soap, shampoo and stuff in a basket on the counter. Do you have a change of clothes?"

She shook her head. "That's what I thought. I'll get you one of my T-shirts and a pair of sweats. I'll leave them on the bed."

He did as he'd promised, then headed back down to Kate, mulling over the strangeness of this whole thing. Kate showed up in the middle of the night, scared out of her wits and accompanied by a woman she didn't like and who was splattered in blood. Richard, he learned, was dead. Buried today.

More than odd, he decided. Unsettling. It was definitely time to get some answers.

Kate had found her way into the living room and was sitting on the couch, feeding her daughter. As he entered the room, she lifted her gaze to his. He realized then how whipped she was, how physically and emotionally drained. She was pale, her eyes deeply shadowed, and it looked to him like a good breeze could do her in.

"Been a rough one, huh?"

Her eyes welled with tears. "You could say that."

"Hungry?" She shook her head. "How about a glass of wine?"

"That would…yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you, Luke."

He brought her the wine, then sat with her while she finished feeding her daughter. He didn't push for answers, didn't attempt to coax her into conversation. Instead, he waited, satisfying himself with looking at her, with watching the loving way she interacted with her daughter.

They could have been his family. Emma could have been his daughter.

The thought, the realization raced into his head, along with it a hunger he hadn't expected. To be a part of that closeness they shared, to be a father.

He looked away, uncomfortable with his thoughts, with the feeling of loss that accompanied them.

"Luke?"

He looked back to find her gaze upon him. He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"Thank you for this. For not turning us away."

Julianna appeared then, freshly scrubbed and wearing the clothes he'd left for her. She ate a turkey sandwich, then went to bed, barely speaking a word.

Luke watched the two women together, noticing that they never looked at one another, that Julianna kept several feet between herself and Emma, and that Kate never asked for Julianna's help with the baby.

As if they were adversaries, he realized. As if they were two dogs, circling the same bone. But where he sensed a wariness in Julianna, he saw distrust in Kate. And anger. The emotion burned in her eyes every time the other woman came near.

More curious by the moment, as soon as Julianna had retired for the night and Kate had gotten Emma to sleep, Luke handed her another glass of red wine. "Now," he said, "I want to know what's going on."

She nodded and sank wearily to the couch, hands curved around the bowl of the red wineglass. "I don't know where to start, it's been…everything's been so awful for so long."

Awful, he thought, judging by her tone and expression, didn't begin to cover it.

He decided to help her out. "Who's Julianna?"

"No one. Everyone." Kate lifted her gaze to his. "She's Emma's birth mother. I only found out today."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," she muttered, "ouch. And you don't even know the half of it."

"So, tell me."

She nodded, took a swallow of the wine, then set the glass on the coffee table. She dropped her head back against the couch's deep, soft cushions and gazed up at the ceiling. "Richard was unfaithful to me."

"I'm sorry."

"But not surprised?"

"No." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "Was Julianna-"

"Yes." She brought the heels of her hands to her eyes for a moment, then lowered them to her lap. "That day at Tulane, what you said…you were right, I think. About why he-" her voice broke "-why he married me."

Luke swore under his breath, making a sound of regret. "Kate, the things I said…I said them in anger. Because I was hurt. Because I wanted to hurt you. I didn't mean-"

"Yes, yes you did. Even in anger, they contained a kernel of truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but a kernel of it."

She took another sip of her wine. "It all began with Emma's adoption."

Luke listened as Kate told him about the past few months of her life-about their being chosen by a birth mother, about Emma's arrival and her own joy at becoming a mother.