Except that.

Nicole folded her arms across her chest, practically daring him to be shocked and appalled.

Ford exhaled—yes, fine, he didn’t deny that he needed at least a moment to process this information. “All right. Tell me everything.” He chucked her under the chin. “And this time, you dope, make it the truth.”

She went misty-eyed again and pointed to her tears. “My God, it never stops.” Then she told him about going out with her girlfriends to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday, meeting Peter Sutter, and bringing him back to her place.

“He was gone when I woke up the next morning. And I have no idea how to track him down.” She paused when she saw Ford glowering. “Remember, you promised. No judgment.”

“I said I wouldn’t judge you. But I’m thinking that the asshole who slept with my sister, got her pregnant, and then sneaked off without so much as a good-bye is entirely fair game.”

“Not defending the guy, but in fairness, it’s not like he had a reason to think he got me pregnant. I know for a fact we used at least one condom, because I found it—”

Ford held up a hand, cutting her off. “Really don’t need to know that. Ever.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “I thought, with your Trib resources, that maybe you’d be able to help me? Find Zoe’s father, I mean.”

As if she even needed to ask. “Of course I’ll help you. That’s kind of what big brothers—and supercool uncles—do. But there’s one thing I need to ask first.” He looked her right in the eyes. “How concerned should I be that you were obviously pretty drunk the night you met Zoe’s father?”

“It’s not like Dad. Promise. I just partied a little too hard on my birthday.”

He studied her for a moment. “Okay.” Satisfied, he got up to grab a small notebook he kept in the kitchen, ready to get down to business. “Now, anything you remember about this Peter Sutter can help me find him. Age, hair color, even the name of the bar you met him in.”

Nicole nodded. “Sure. Okay.”

When Ford sat back down, he suddenly remembered something. “By the way, what’s the mysterious ‘thing’ that you need to talk to Victoria about tomorrow?”

“Oh! That.” Nicole spoke excitedly. “Did you know that she’s a family lawyer?”

According to his research, she was a big-time divorce lawyer with a client list that read like the Who’s Who of Chicago. “I may have heard something to that effect.”

“Well, guess what? She offered to take my case. She said that I need a good lawyer to handle all the child support details and also any custody and visitation issues that might arise. And, how awesome is this—she suggested that she’ll cut me a break on her rates.”

Ford sat back. “Really.”

Nicole cocked her head. “Why do you say it like that? What’s going on with you and Victoria, anyway?”

“I assure you, nothing is going on with me and Victoria.” The woman was far too smug for his tastes. Judgmental. Not to mention, snarky. He could go on and on, except, really, it wasn’t worth his time.

Oh—and prickly, too.

Presumably, Nicole caught his dry tone. “Ford, you will play nice with the smart, kind-hearted lawyer who offered to take on my case.”

He snorted. “Kind-hearted? Are we talking about the same neighbor?”

“Uh-huh. The very pretty one living about ten feet away.”

“Is she pretty? I hadn’t noticed,” he said vaguely.

His sister smiled. “Oh, you noticed.”

* * *

A HALF HOUR later, he walked Nicole and Zoe to the door.

“I have one condition for tracking down this guy for you: that you talk to your doctor about all the stress you’ve been under.” He knew jack-squat about post-partum depression and “baby blues”—maybe Nicole was simply going through the same stress all new moms experienced. Still, he’d feel better if she talked to someone.

She pulled him in for a hug, her voice thick. “You never could resist telling me what to do.”

He watched as she and Zoe strolled down the hallway to the elevator, and then his eyes fell on the door next to his.

She offered to take on my case. And, how awesome is this—she suggested that she’ll cut me a break on her rates.

Perhaps it was time that he and Ms. Victoria Slade, Esquire, had a little chat.

Ten

VICTORIA CLOSED HER eyes, relaxing as the hot water and steam surrounded her. She had Norah Jones piping through the bathroom speakers—It’s just the nearness of you—and a glass of zinfandel on the marble ledge of the tub.

Heaven.

This was the moment she’d been looking forward to all day. No more thoughts about work, or crying strangers with crying babies. Simply a few minutes to unwind and get in some alone time, just her and her cucumber-scented bubble bath and—

Knock, knock.

—some jerk knocking on her front door.

“Go away,” she muttered under her breath, thinking whoever it was would get the hint when she didn’t answer. And indeed, that seemed to work. There was a second knock, which she also ignored, and then silence.

Peace at last.

Except . . .

Now she was wondering who had knocked at her door. Nicole, perhaps? Had she left something behind? Or maybe it was Ford. He was basically the only person Victoria knew in the building, so it had to be one of the two of them. Unless some random person had just knocked on her door. Some stranger who wanted . . . what, exactly?

She shifted uneasily in the bathtub.

The logical part of her knew that this was not a question she needed to stew over. People knocked on apartment doors all the time. At some point, she was going to have to stop being so hyperalert about these kinds of things.

Get over yourself, Slade. It’s all in your head.

That decided, she eased back in the tub and got on with the relaxing. Realizing she’d missed her favorite song, she grabbed her phone from the ledge and used the app that controlled the sound system to skip back.

It’s not the pale moon that excites me, Norah crooned.

Feeling better, Victoria took a sip of her wine and then closed her eyes, once again succumbing to the hot water and steam, the heady scent of the bubbles, the soft, sultry music—It’s just the nearness of you—