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“Hello to you, too,” she retorted. “Boy, caller ID certainly takes all the anticipation out of a ringing phone.”
“That’s technology for you.”
Devon smiled, feeling the customary surge of reassurance at the sound of her brother’s voice. He was an incredibly successful photojournalist who traveled the globe on dangerous assignments, worrying the hell out of her in the process. Then again, he had their father’s affinity for living life on the edge. Danger and excitement were synonymous to them both.
Her mother was the opposite.
Devon fell somewhere in between.
“Dev?”
“I’m here. And, no, in answer to your question, I’m not on call tonight. I’m just hanging out at the clinic. And you’re out of breath. Why? Did I call at an inopportune time?”
He chuckled at her implication. “Nope. If it was an inopportune time, I’d let your call go to voice mail. I was working out. Long day, long flight. I was in Hawaii, shooting the Kilauea volcano. The Pu’u ’O’o crater is amazing. Anyway, I just got in a couple of hours ago. I needed to unwind.” He paused. “Enough small talk, doc. What’s wrong?”
Devon didn’t bat an eye at Lane’s instantaneous zeroing-in on her mood. He knew her like a book, just as she knew him. When he’d moved to Los Angeles five years ago, she’d been crushed. She missed him like crazy. So did the rest of the family. They never let an opportunity go by without guilting him into remembering that. Poor Lane. He didn’t stand a chance. He’d be moving back east before he knew what hit him.
Yup, the Montgomerys were a tight-knit bunch.
Which was why this was driving her crazy.
“Scamp’s here,” she announced. “Mom’s boarding him till Monday. She went away for a long weekend.”
“Good. She needs a little fun. So what’s the problem?”
“She didn’t go alone.”
“I repeat, what’s the problem?”
“Do I have to spell it out? Mom went away with a man.”
Lane sighed. “Yeah, Dev, I figured that part out. So, as usual, this is about Mom and Dad and the never-going-to-happen reconciliation you’ve conjured up in your mind. Kiddo, it’s been fifteen years. Aren’t you ever going to let it go?”
“I can’t. They still love each other.”
“No argument. But the divorce didn’t happen because of lack of love. It happened because they can’t be married. That hasn’t changed.”
Devon’s chin set stubbornly. “Dad never dates.”
“He doesn’t need to. He’s married to his work. As for women, he probably gets whatever action he needs when he goes on those reunion weekends with his old buddies from the precinct.”
“Lane.” Devon protested the idea and the image it conjured up.
“Oh, come on, Dev,” her brother returned impatiently. “The guy hasn’t been celibate all this time.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to paint me a picture.”
“I just call it like it is. Dad’s fifty-four, healthy, and in great physical shape—not to mention a PI and a retired NYPD police detective, which are both major turn-ons for some women. As for Mom, when she ended their marriage she was—according to the testimony of all my seventeen-year-old, hormone-raging friends—young and
hot. She’s still great-looking. Do you honestly believe she’s lived like a nun?”
“No,” Devon retorted. “Of course not. But she never cared enough about anyone to go away for a weekend with him. And it’s not only that. It’s the way she was acting when she dropped Scamp off. Too exuberant. Too gushy. That’s not Mom’s style. It was like she was forcing her enthusiasm.”
“Probably because she was afraid of getting the third degree from you.”
“Or because she was trying to convince herself this was right.”
“Maybe she was nervous. Like you said, this isn’t the kind of thing she’s used to doing. On top of that, she knew she’d be seeing you when she dropped Scamp off—and providing you with the whens and the wheres. Talk about embarrassing. I hope you didn’t totally invade her privacy.” A pause. “By the way, who is this guy?”
