What were they? The question ran through both their heads. Neither of them voiced it.

“You’re right.” The mattress creaked as he shifted. “Rachel, I want to be with you again. It doesn’t just have to be in bed.” He traced the curve of her cheek. “Or on the floor.”

“I want to be with you.” She touched her fingers to the back of his hand. “It’s good. And that’s enough.”

“Yeah.” He was nearly sure it was. “I can take some time Wednesday. How about an early dinner?”

“I’d like that.” They fell into silence again, until she sighed. “You’d better go.”

“I know.”

“Maybe Sunday you and Nick could come to dinner at my parents’. We talked about it before, remember?”

“That would be good.” He kissed her again, and the kiss went on and on. “Just once more.”

“Yes.” She enfolded him. “Just once more.”

Rachel shifted the phone to her other ear, scribbled on a legal pad and stared dubiously at the stack of files on her desk.

“Yes, Mrs. Macetti, I understand. What we need are a couple of good character witnesses for your son. Your priest, perhaps, or a teacher.” As she listened to the rapid-fire broken English, she wondered if she could catch the attention of any of her harried coworkers and hope that they’d feel sorry enough for her to bring her a cup of coffee. “I can’t tell you that, Mrs. Macetti. Our chances are very good for a suspended sentence and probation, since Carlo wasn’t driving. But the fact is, he was riding in a stolen car, and…”

She trailed off, carefully folding the page she’d written on. “Uh-huh. Well, as I explained before, it would be rather difficult to convince anyone he didn’t know the car was stolen, since the locks had been sprung and the engine hot-wired.” Satisfied with the shape of her paper airplane, she shot it out her door. It was as good as a note in a bottle.

“I’m sure he’s a good boy, Mrs. Macetti.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Bad companions, yes. Let’s hope that this experience will have him keeping his distance from the Hombres. Mrs. Macetti. Mrs. Macetti,” Rachel said, trying to be firm, “I’m doing everything I can. Try to be optimistic, and I’ll see you in court next week. No—no, really. I’ll call you. Yes, I promise. Goodbye. Yes, absolutely. Goodbye.”

Rachel hung up the phone, then dropped her head on her desk. Ten minutes of trying to deal with the frantic mother of six was as exhausting as a full day in court.

“Tough day?”

Lifting her head, Rachel spotted Nick in her doorway. He had her paper airplane in one hand, and a large paper cup in the other.

“Tough month.” Her gaze locked on the steaming cup. “Tell me that’s coffee.”