“Is it that I want a baby?” She’d always been a straight shooter, saw no reason not to acknowledge the problem they’d avoided discussing. For the first few weeks after his accident Bentz had been impotent. Hell, he’d barely been able to walk, much less make love. But that problem had corrected itself.

“I think I told you about that. I’m pushing fifty, out of a job at the moment, still using a damned cane some of the time, and I’ve got a grown kid who’s about to get married. I don’t…it’s not that I don’t want a child with you, it’s just that I’m not sure the timing’s right or that I want to start over.”

“But I do. And I’m in my late thirties. My biological clock isn’t ticking, Bentz. It’s tolling like thunder in my ears. I don’t think I have time to wait, to mull things over. If I want a child, and I do, then we have to try.”

His jaw slid to the side and he took a swallow from his bottle, then looked away, as if the roofline of the restaurant were suddenly fascinating. She felt the gulf between them widen and when she saw the waiter seating a young couple and their three-year-old toddler, her heart twisted painfully.

“What the hell’s happening to us?”

A muscle worked in his jaw and her heart clutched. He was struggling with something, weighing if he could trust her with the truth. Her stomach dropped. “What is it?” she asked, her voice a whisper, a new fear chasing after her, burrowing deep into her heart. She believed he loved her, she did. But…

And then he closed her out again. “I’ve just got a lot to deal with.”

Translation: Stop bothering me and for God’s sake, don’t pressure me into a decision about having a baby.

“I’m a psychologist. I can feel you blocking me out.”

“And I’m a cop. A detective. Or I was. I’ve just got to figure out a few things.” He looked at her again, the expression in his eyes unreadable. But this time when he touched her, he held fast. “Trust me.”

“I do. But I think you’re depressed and no one can blame you. Maybe we need a change of scenery, a new start.”