For several long seconds she stood silently, praying he didn't see the color she felt rising in her cheeks. "Hi," she said, hefting the package. "I wanted to bring this by."

"McNeal," he acknowledged finally, eyeing the package. "How's the head?"

"Still pretty hard."

He didn't smile, but Erin saw the flash of amusement in his dark eyes. "Good thing, I guess, all things considered."

The silence built for a moment. He made no move to invite her inside. Feeling awkward, she looked down at her boots.

"You were scheduled to work tonight," he said.

She'd tried to convince herself his decision to schedule her for work didn't have anything to do with the fact that he didn't want to see her. Of course, she wasn't at all concerned about that. Just because Hector's car was in the driveway didn't mean she should be invited to the party, too, did it?

"I'm on my dinner hour," she said quickly. "I've only got a few minutes." Not knowing what else to say or do, she shoved the package at him. "I wanted to make sure Stephanie got this."

He took the box. "Uh… thanks. I'll make sure she gets it."

"Great."

Erin told herself she wasn't disappointed that he wasn't going to invite her inside. That she hadn't wanted to see Stephanie's eyes light up. Or see Nick smile. She'd only known them a little over a week. It wasn't like she was a friend he would invite to his daughter's birthday party. Still, the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach was acute.

"Oh, Erin!"

She jumped at the sound of Mrs. Thornsberry's voice, and watched the woman approach. "I'm so glad you came. I had to fight off Hector to save you a piece of cake. I hope you like German chocolate."

Nick frowned. "She's on duty, Em."

"For heaven's sake, there aren't any rules against police officers indulging in birthday cake while on duty." Mrs. Thornsberry smiled sweetly at Erin. "There's a big piece with your name on it in the kitchen."

Erin returned the smile, torn between not wanting to irritate Nick and appeasing the nanny. She'd wanted to give Stephanie the gift herself, but he seemed adamantly opposed to her staying. "Thanks, Mrs. Thornsberry, but-"

"Nick, where are your manners?" the older woman scolded. "Aren't you going to invite her in?"

Nick shot the woman a dark look.

"For goodness sakes, she's got time for a piece of cake." Giving him an annoyed glance over her shoulder, Mrs. Thornsberry headed for the living room.

Erin 's discomfort grew. Nick obviously wasn't happy to see her. It was clear he didn't want her there. Glancing back at her cruiser, she took a step back. "I've got to get back-"

"It's all right." He opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Come on in."

"I didn't mean to intrude."

His gaze locked with hers. Erin felt stripped bare by the power behind it. She'd never had a difficult time with eye contact, but Nick's gaze was so intense she couldn't hold it.

"I figured we probably couldn't avoid each other much longer," he said in a low voice.

She looked anywhere but into those dark, dangerous eyes of his. "I wasn't-"

"Avoidance probably isn't a good strategy, anyway, considering we work together."

Heat suffused her cheeks. Something warm and jumpy fluttered in her chest when images of the kiss came to her unbidden. The feel of his mouth against hers. The way he'd wrapped her in his arms. The hardness of his body as he pulled her close.

She wanted to say something flippant, maybe just to prove to him that blasted kiss hadn't affected her in the least, but the power of speech seemed to have left her. She stepped past him, and every nerve ending in her body went on alert when the tangy essence of his aftershave curled around her brain. The memory of the kiss sharpened, expanded, until it filled her with a longing she wanted desperately to deny.

Nick motioned toward the hall. "I appreciate you bringing a gift. It wasn't necessary, but I'm sure Steph will like it."

Feeling breathless and off-kilter, Erin started down the hall, wishing she'd heeded her own common sense and brought the gift by when Nick wasn't home.

They reached the living room a moment later. Hector nodded a greeting from his place on the sofa. Mrs. Thornsberry looked on from the kitchen doorway. Steph sat in her wheelchair in the center of the room, surrounded by crumpled wrapping paper and assorted gifts.

"Hi, Steph," Erin said. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

Her heart melted when the little girl smiled. Such a pretty smile. Too bad she didn't do it more often.

"Dad got me a new easel for sketching," she said. "Want to see my new pad?"

"Sure." Erin took the pad from her, feeling inept, since she didn't know a thing about sketching, and opened it to feel the texture of the paper. "Very nice. What do you sketch?"

"Sometimes I sketch Bandito. Sometimes my mom, but m not very good at faces, so I mostly just make stuff up. I'm pretty good at evening gowns and dresses, too."

"Ah, a budding clothes designer," Erin said.

Pride jumped into the little girl's eyes, and her grin widened. "My dad says I'm going to give Liz Claiborne a run for her money."

"I don't doubt it." Erin handed her the sketch pad. "Maybe you could show me your drawings sometime."

"'Kay."

Mrs. Thornsberry took Erin 's gift from Nick and set it on Stephanie's lap. The little girl picked up the box and shook it. "Sure is big."

Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, Nick smiled at his daughter, the first genuine smile Erin had seen since she'd walked in.

"Have at it, honeybunch." His gaze met Erin 's, the smile he'd given his daughter still flirting with his mouth.

He had one of the nicest smiles she'd ever seen. Too bad he didn't use it more often. Disconcerted that she'd noticed something she shouldn't have, she looked away.

Stephanie stripped the paper from the box. Erin watched, anticipation building in her chest. The little girl's hands stilled. The crackle of wrapping paper stopped abruptly. Dead silence fell over the room. Stephanie stared at the bright orange basketball, blinking as if someone had just played a cruel joke on her.

"It's a basketball," she said dully.

Erin 's stomach went into a slow roll. Praying her carefully chosen gift didn't turn into a negative experience for the girl, she stepped forward. "I saw the hoop above the garage door outside and thought you might like to start playing again."

The little girl stared at Erin, her blue eyes wide with the kind of hurt Erin knew too well. She'd seen that look before; she'd felt it in her own heart a hundred times in the last several months. She knew intimately the harsh realities of shock and pain and betrayal. Her heart cramped in her chest when those bottomless blue eyes filled with tears.

"I can't play basketball anymore," Stephanie said in a small voice. "My legs…"

"Oh, honey, you can," Erin said gently. "You can take lessons if you want to. Disabled people play basketball and win marathons and do all sorts of fun things."

"I want to, but I can't." Stephanie looked at her father. "Why did she get this for me? I can't play anymore."

Erin 's breath jammed in her throat. The pain struck with such force that she couldn't breathe. All she could do was press her hand to her breast and pray the little girl would understand. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt this child who had already been hurt so brutally.

"Oh, my," Mrs. Thornsberry said. "Steph, honey, I'm sure Erin didn't mean-"

"I can't play!" the girl cried. "I don't want it."

"But you can play, Steph," Erin said. "Honey, I'll teach you-"

"That's enough." Nick's voice cracked through the air like cold steel being snapped in half.

The words jerked Erin 's gaze to his. His jaws were clamped tight, his hands clenched at his sides. He glared at her, his eyes as hard and infinitely cold as glacial ice.