Live-In Lover. Lyn Stone
off the hook with her words, she begged him with her eyes to consider helping her. Come on, Damien, please!
He considered what she’d said—and most likely her silent message, too—quietly, and at some length while Molly waited breathlessly for him to assure her he would help.
“You say you think your life is in danger?” he asked calmly.
Molly cleared her throat and looked away from him so she could think straight. “Yes, I do. I believe my ex-husband is insane.”
“And you believe him capable of violence?” he asked.
She raised her chin and faced him, mimicking his cool regard. “Yes, Damien, he certainly is capable of that.”
He nodded slightly and thought for another minute. Molly liked the way he considered the angles before making a decision. She wished she had that trait.
“Then we had better prevent that, hadn’t we?” he said.
“You are going to help us?” Before she could stop herself, Molly had reached out and grasped his hands. His large, wonderful, capable hands.
Only one eyebrow raised. “I would be delighted.”
He would be delighted. She had to smile at that.
Damien Perry just took her breath away. She loved to hear him talk. If only the subject matter were a little less macabre, she would just sit back and enjoy the daylights out of it.
But she hadn’t called him in on this because he sounded cute or because his fantastic looks made the backs of her knees sweat. She needed a man who could handle the situation. She had no doubt that when Damien Perry said he would—delighted or not—he surely would.
Suddenly she realized she was still holding his hands between hers and released him. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled.
“Quite all right,” he said, flexing his fingers as though she had squeezed them too hard.
Molly rose, her movements deliberate and careful as she poured two cups of steaming coffee, placed them on the table and took her seat. She peeled the paper cup from a muffin, reached over and placed it on the tray of the high chair.
Sydney promptly christened it with apple juice, leaned over and bit off the soggy top.
“Have a muffin. I’ll fill you in on what’s happened so far.”
His aristocratic nose wrinkled the tiniest bit when Sydney grinned at him, her mouth full of purple mush. “Thank you, no. I believe I’ll pass on the muffin.”
Molly shrugged. Maybe it wasn’t fair to bring a friend of her brother’s in on this. But Damien Perry had struck her from their very first meeting as a man who could take care of business. Even wounded as he’d been at the time, he had projected an aura of strength and capability that impressed her.
She flatly rejected the thought that there might be another reason his name came to mind when she needed help.
So what if he was handsome as sin itself? Was it a crime to admire his good looks? She was human, wasn’t she? And an artist, too. One who appreciated beauty in all its forms. That’s all she felt for this man, admiration and appreciation.
All right, maybe she’d felt a little infatuation for him initially, but surely that was normal. Every woman he met must feel that. As soon as she got used to him, it would go away.
Damien was a man of the world and, she suspected, a loner. And that was fine with Molly. That signaled safety. She was definitely not looking for another man in her life when she couldn’t even dodge the mistake she’d made the first time.
All she wanted was Damien’s help. Then he could go on his merry way and she could enjoy a couple of secret fantasies about him now and then. No harm in that.
“Tell me about it,” he suggested softly.
Molly jerked her head up and stared into those azure eyes. She almost blurted out exactly what she was thinking, then caught herself. “Oh, you mean about Jack.”
He nodded, an all-too-knowing look in his eyes. “Of course. What else?”
Chapter 2
Damien wondered exactly what Molly Jensen saw when she looked at him and why he seemed to disconcert her so much. It couldn’t be his job. Her brother was also an agent, so that would hold little awe for her.
He supposed it could be attraction on her part, because it certainly was on his. If that was the case, acting on it would suit him just fine, but he knew it was out of the question. Women like Molly didn’t engage in casual sex and brief affairs. They were nurturers at heart, earth-mother types, wife material. Not for him.
She began explaining in a matter-of-fact way how she came to know the man she had married, how he had browbeat her for months until they’d endured a showdown that had ended it all.
During Molly’s recital of events, Damien watched with some interest as she gave her daughter more food.
The child had disgusting habits, Damien thought as he sipped his coffee. For all he knew, maybe all children did. So far, this one had done nothing to endear itself to him. He supposed he could claim admiration for the high decibel level it could reach. It could feed itself, which surprised him.
Somehow he had expected it would still be bald and practically toothless. But this one had grown considerably since Molly had taken those photos of it. It had hair now, curlier and a much lighter red than Molly’s. The wide eyes had a greenish tint, but not so green as hers. Bluer, he noted.
They dressed exactly alike, mother and daughter, in dark green sweats with bright red hearts stitched on the left breast. She fascinated him, this odd little Molly Jensen clone, almost as much as her beautiful mother did.
“So, what do you think?” Molly asked.
“Hmm?”
“Oh, that’s what I like in a man. Attention. Were you even listening?”
“Of course. Your ex made the calls, you’ve gotten the protection order…and…?”
“The police won’t arrest him unless he does something to me. Something they can nail down, anyway. By that time it could be too late. I sent him to jail, Damien, and I’m afraid he’s going to kill me for it. And he might kill Sydney, too. He hates that she exists.”
Damien gave her his undivided attention. Whether she had real cause or not, Molly Jensen was convinced their lives were in danger. He still thought she was probably blowing things out of proportion and overreacting to the harassment.
No doubt her ex was bitter about spending a night or two behind bars. The cops had likely hauled him in for disturbing the peace and to give him a chance to cool off after the argument she’d mentioned. Now he was playing on Molly’s fear to get back at her for it. Once Damien scared the life out of him, he’d back off quickly enough.
“Is there any way to make him stop?” she asked quietly.
Too quietly, he thought. She sounded like a child herself at the moment. A very frightened child who had no idea what to do next. Her deep green eyes looked to him for answers and her bottom lip quivered slightly.
Damien felt something turn over in his chest at the sight. At the moment, he wanted to strangle Jack Jensen with his bare hands for putting that look on her face.
He could do that, but he wouldn’t, of course. Was it possible that she thought he would? He had no idea what her brother had told her about their brief encounter.
Six months ago he had gone undercover as an assassin for hire to apprehend right-wingers who wanted rid of a senator visiting in Nashville. One of the Bureau’s informants had blown that scheme out of the water while Damien was recuperating from a gunshot. Good thing, since Damien’s cover had evaporated with the shooting and resulting publicity. Once he’d recovered, he had gone down to Florida on his next assignment.