“We’re done,” Hale assured her, unable to retreat any farther without barbecuing his backside.

“Done with what?”

“A little contest.” He cleared his throat. “Good news! Rache won.”

Connie spotted the figure sprawled on the concrete and rushed over. “Are you all right? Hale, she ought to sue you!”

“I’m fine.” Rachel sat up. “Hale, are there any more burgers? I’m starved.” Taking Connie’s hand, she hauled herself to her feet, nearly toppling the blonde in the process.

Connie surveyed her friend with a frown. “I thought you were going to dress nice. Why are you wearing that?”

“I borrowed it from Hale.”

The reference to clothing confused Russ. Why had the two discussed Rachel’s clothing choices? Before he could draw any conclusions, the newcomer addressed him. “You must be Dr. McKenzie. I’m Connie Simmons.”

The fact that she knew his name meant Rachel had informed her about the outing and, presumably, sought advice. Interesting.

“Pleased to meet you.” Russ shook hands, embarrassed to be caught under such circumstances. “I assure you, I don’t condone this activity.”

“Neither does any sane person,” Connie declared. “You look a bit the worse for wear.”

“He fished me out.” Lowering her head, Rachel toweled her hair. “You should have seen me sinking like a pair of old sneakers.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’m glad someone around here has a brain.” Connie swung toward Hale. “I ought to tell the chief about this insanity.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” growled her ex-husband.

Connie’s eyes narrowed. Her hostility appeared to be well justified, in light of the irresponsible behavior Russ had witnessed. “Let’s talk about who the real jerks at this party are, starting with—”

“Burger?” Hale proffered a plate, interrupting an incipient tirade.

The former Mrs. Simmons scowled as if she’d like to shove it down his throat. But she took the food.

Rachel was starting for the table when Connie intervened. “Go. Change. Now.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You should see what you look like.”

Rachel glanced at where the wet T-shirt revealed curves that some of the male officers were ogling with interest. “For heaven’s sake. You’d think I was Elise or somebody.” Glaring at the men, she groused, “Oh, all right,” and slogged away, limping a little.

Russ was glad he’d made a point of not staring. He couldn’t help noticing her tempting shape, especially not when his arms retained a sensual impression. Whoever Elise was, she couldn’t possibly compare with this woman.

“I wonder if I can still use that extension cord.” Hale sighed. “Hey, Doc, feel free to borrow dry socks and whatever.”

“Thanks.” Russ reached for his jacket just as, in the pocket, the cell phone rang. Although he wasn’t on call, the hospital operator might contact him in an emergency, so he excused himself and answered it on the way inside. “Dr. McKenzie.”

“Mike Federov. Can you spare a minute?”

“Sure.” Dropping the towel on a kitchen chair, Russ eased onto it. The somber note in his friend’s voice told him this wasn’t a casual call.

“Sorry to bother you on the weekend, but I figured you ought to hear this.” Mike explained that while visiting his parents, who had a wide circle of friends in West L.A., he’d just learned of a tragedy several weeks earlier that concerned Russ’s daughter.

Lauren’s grandparents had been returning from a weekend in Lake Tahoe with friends when their small plane crashed, killing everyone on board. Lauren hadn’t been with them, thank heaven.

Russ ached for the five-year-old girl, his daughter, who’d lost her family. At the same time, it occurred to him that the whole picture had changed. Concern twisted through him, followed by a tiny ray of hope. “Who has custody? Janine?”

“I hear she’s the guardian appointed in their will,” Mike confirmed.

“Is she…how’s it working out with her and Lauren?” He couldn’t imagine Janine rejecting her daughter at this stage. Still, having the girl thrust into her care unexpectedly must be difficult.

“Nobody seems to know.”

“She must be terribly upset about her parents. I’d like to offer my condolences.” Russ was eager to provide his ex-girlfriend with moral support. He’d always felt that he’d let her down years ago. Perhaps he could make up for that now.

Mike provided Janine’s phone number, which, with his usual thoughtfulness, he’d obtained in advance. He also said that he didn’t believe she’d ever married.

Russ thanked him and clicked off. He decided, however, to wait until later to call her. Better to clarify his thoughts first, and besides, this wasn’t an appropriate place for such a personal conversation.

He was debating whether to accept Hale’s offer of fresh clothing when Rachel emerged freshly dressed. She’d tucked wet hair behind her ears.

“Famished,” she noted as she snagged a handful of crackers. “Hey, Doc, you look cute damp. Ever try out for a wet T-shirt contest?”

“Not recently.” He grinned. Around Rachel, he felt surprisingly unselfconscious. He opted for declining Hale’s offer of dry clothes, except for the socks.

As they returned to the patio, the conversation with Mike kept invading his thoughts. Much as Russ yearned to spend more time with Rachel, his first priority had to be his daughter, and that meant doing whatever was necessary to assist her and her mother.

Until this tragedy, Lauren had had a stable two-parent family. Since apparently Janine remained single, Russ didn’t intend to let his little girl grow up without a father.

The more he reflected, the more determined he became not to shirk his responsibility a second time. And not to lose this chance to be part of his daughter’s life, whatever that required.

In the midst of her colleagues, Rachel appeared fully recovered, laughing and joking. Russ wondered if there was any way to see her again. But he couldn’t even consider it until he talked to Janine.

Rachel hadn’t been kidding when she suggested the doc enter a wet T-shirt contest, assuming such things existed for guys. With that shirt stuck to his chest and his hair as rumpled as if he’d just tumbled out of bed, he made her blood race.

“Thanks again for pulling me out of the drink,” she said as she drove him home.

“No problem.” His tone was subdued.

Where were his thoughts, anyway? If fate had a trace of mercy, they’d be focused on her. Normally, Rachel loathed having some guy rescue her butt, and that included the occasions when she and her fellow trainees had taken turns during Police Academy. But even in her dazed state—or maybe because of it—she’d gotten a rush when Russ hoisted her from the pool.

Strong masculine arms encircling her. Warm contact dissolving the chill. He smelled good, too.

Under other circumstances, Rachel might have contemplated the possibility of making love to the guy, but this wasn’t Joe Six-Pack. This guy did funny things to her nervous system, and his sophistication intimidated her a little. Getting involved might mean more than she was ready to handle.

All the same, no point in parting prematurely when they could be enjoying each other’s company. “So, you got plans for the rest of the night?” she asked.

Russ tore his gaze from the passenger window and frowned at the clock on her dash. “Is that accurate? My watch died. I thought it was later.”

In February, evenings always seemed longer due to the early darkness. “Yeah, it’s nine-fifteen. Kinda early to ditch a party, but you seemed antsy.”

At the party they’d viewed a DVD and part of a Lakers game, and had a go at the video console. When she’d noticed Russ’s concentration lagging, Rachel had suggested they decamp.

“Do you suppose it’s too late to place a phone call?” he asked. “I meant to wait till tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep.”