Mad About You

intensely curious nonetheless. The dank smell of beer and the thick cigarette smoke suddenly suffocated him. He reached forward and clasped her elbow, turning her around gently. "Let's go someplace to talk," he said near her ear. She nodded curtly, pulling away from him a few inches.
    Bailey frowned, but his brief disappointment at her reflex passed as he anticipated the somber conversation that awaited them. As he weaved them through the crowd and toward the front doors, the music and laughter grew even louder. A wet-T-shirt contest was in high progress, with men lining up to throw buckets of icy water onto the willing contestants. Virginia averted her gaze, and he conceded a pang of embarrassment that she'd had to hunt him down in one of his tacky old haunts to tell him her sobering news.
    She couldn't have looked more out of place in her tailored slate-gray jacket and fitted skirt, sheer hose and leather pumps. She'd wound her honey-colored hair into a tight crown knot, with only a fringe of bangs to soften the look. His outrageous, fun-loving coed had matured into an elegant, classy executive. They garnered more than a few looks as they wound their way toward the door.
    Bailey bit back a bitter laugh. The lady and the tramp. Their divorce had ended on a sour note, but it appeared she'd fared better without him.
    Virginia stared straight ahead with her mouth set in a firm line. Her back remained rigid, and Bailey felt the sudden urge to fold her into his arms, to feel her soften into him and cry against his chest. She'd done just that many times before their baby had been born, and he'd been glad to offer her his strength, trying desperately to hide his own fears of becoming a sudden husband and father. But in his grief after the kidnapping, he'd lashed out, saying unforgivable things. She hadn't been in his arms since that horrific day. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on her arm through the soft fabric, and she tensed even more.
    He didn't blame her for hating him. How could he when he hated himself?
    "Bailey?" came a drawling female voice behind him.
    Bailey winced. He'd forgotten about Lisa. At first he wasn't going to stop, but Virginia slowed and said, "I think someone needs to talk to you."
    Bailey released Virginia's arm and wheeled toward Lisa's voice. The blonde's eyes were wide and questioning as she scanned Virginia head to toe. Hands on hips, her position accentuated her ample chest, covered by a transparent, wet tank top that left nothing to the imagination. She smirked. "Going somewhere, Bailey Boy?"
    Bailey's face suffused with heat. He avoided Virginia's eyes. Withdrawing his wallet, he removed a twenty and thrust it into the young woman's hand. "Change of plans, here's money for a cab." Then he reclaimed Virginia's elbow and steered her out onto the sidewalk into the balmy midsummer air.
    Nightlife in Columbus, Ohio, normally didn't get rolling until midnight, so the worst crowds and traffic were still a couple of hours away. But the street vendors and sidewalk entertainers were still busy from late shoppers who had not yet departed for home.
    "My car's just around the corner," Bailey explained. "There's a coffee shop on the next block."
    "Let's walk," Virginia suggested, still staring ahead.
    He nodded and fell in step beside her, adjusting his stride to hers. After a few seconds of silence, he asked, "Do you want to wait to talk about it?"
    She shook her head and sniffed. "No." Her voice sounded stronger, but forced. "I worked late today and had a message waiting from Detective Lance when I got home. Do you remember him?"
    Bailey nodded—the man had been the lead local investigator on their son’s kidnapping, had persisted even after the FBI had given up.
    "Anyway, the message said he had news and needed to talk to us as soon as possible. He left you a message, too, but since he hadn't heard from you by the time I called him back, I assumed you hadn't been home yet."
    A nice way of saying he'd gone straight to the saloon from work, Bailey noted.
    She sought his eyes this time, and he saw her tears brimming again. Swiping at them with her tattered tissue, she said, "I'm sorry, Bailey. I should have waited for you, but I just couldn't—" Her voice faltered. "I just couldn't bear to wait another minute to hear the truth."
    He wished he had been there, but he understood her anxiety. His throat ached as he tensed to keep his emotion at bay.
    She wiped her mouth with the side of her hand and