The Baby's Bodyguard. Alice Sharpe
wrong,” came a voice from behind Jack’s back. He swiveled around to find Mimi standing just inside the room.
“Grandma—” Hannah began.
“You’re wrong, Hannah Marie. Ever since your grandpa died and you got pregnant, you’ve been trying to do everything alone. You need help. We need help.”
“Maybe we do,” Hannah said reluctantly, and then with a swift glance at Jack, added, “But not this man.”
Mimi made a big deal of looking around the room and behind her. “Then, which man, Hannah?”
“Grandma—”
“I’ll hire you,” Mimi said, looking directly at Jack.
“You don’t even know Jack Starling,” Hannah muttered.
The older woman nodded abruptly. “You’re right, I don’t. But I like him, and so do you.”
Jack smiled.
“I do not like him,” Hannah grumbled.
“Whatever. Okay, if you won’t allow me to hire him as a bodyguard for you, then I’ll hire him as one for my great-granddaughter. It’ll be good having a man here protecting her. You accept, Mr. Starling?”
“I accept,” Jack said quickly before Hannah could get in another word.
“You can sleep here,” Hannah said a few hours later when everything had quieted down again. Aubrielle slept in her crib, which Hannah had pushed into her own bedroom. No way was she leaving her baby alone in a room with a big window. Mimi had long since excused herself to go to bed and Jack, who refused to leave even to drive back to Fort Bragg and check out of his motel, had finally stopped bombarding her with questions.
Standing next to her, he perused the room that had been her grandfather’s den until his death. The walls were still lined with shelves of books, but the desk was gone, shoved into Hannah’s room where she used it to work from home. In its place was the futon they’d installed for the occasional overnight guest. The closet was stuffed with boxes that were too heavy to cart up to the attic.
The fact was, Hannah realized, it was like there were three of them crowded into the small room: herself, Jack and the memory of their first and only night together. That memory had somehow assumed an identity of its own, a mass larger than the sum of the two of them combined. It vibrated with suspended breath as it hovered and waited.
“Cariño,” Jack said, his eyes dark in the deep shadows, the undercurrents of desire she could taste in the air between them sharp and poignant … and impossible.
“We need to get something out in the open,” she said softly.
He moved past her, gently brushing her breasts with his arm. As he had nothing to unpack, he turned upon reaching the futon, sat down, patted the mattress beside him and said, “I’m all ears.”
She crossed to the closet, yanked open the door and caught a sleeping bag as it fell from its perch atop a stack of cardboard boxes. She tossed it at him and grabbed a pillow. “A lot has happened since we met,” she said, still way too aware of him. When he opened his mouth to respond, she held up a finger. “To both of us, I mean. Nothing is the same. We’re not the same. You may have railroaded yourself into my grandmother’s house, but you can’t—”
“Railroad myself into your bed?” he finished for her.
Holding the pillow against her chest, she nodded.
He tossed the bag down on the futon, stood up and walked back to stand in front of her. “I don’t force myself into a woman’s bed. I wait to be invited.”
The last time they’d met, she’d done the inviting and he knew it. This time she met his gaze and said, “Then we’ll be fine because I won’t be asking.”
He leaned forward and whispered, “That’s too bad.” Then, his voice serious, he added, “Your grandmother mentioned you go to work twice a week and do the rest of your work from your home office. You don’t go in again until the day after tomorrow, right?”
Remembering the promise of the paper she’d found with David’s money that might or might not help matters, she said, “Actually, I need to go in tomorrow for a few minutes. Uh, I need to make a copy of a report brought home from work that got destroyed in the car bomb today. Plus we’re all working more hours because of a big Founder’s Day open house planned for next weekend.”
The look he directed her way was suspicious. “I don’t think—”
“Let’s remember exactly who you’ve been hired to guard,” she warned him. “Don’t try to tell me what to do.”
He threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Because your number one priority is keeping my baby safe or didn’t you mean what you said about being her bodyguard?”
“Of course I meant it. But the big picture—”
“Yes, I know. But if you’re going to stay in my grandmother’s house, then you pay your way by thinking of Aubrielle first.”
“Sure,” he said. “Of course. But that means tomorrow you tell me what you’re so determined not to say tonight. We have to work together, Hannah, and we have to start immediately.”
It was well after midnight and the day’s events had finally battered their way through Hannah’s defenses, so she didn’t push further.
“Do you have a gun?” she asked.
“No.”
“My grandfather had a rifle and a shotgun,” she said.
“I know. Your grandmother told me where they are.” He dug in his pocket and produced the small gold key that locked the gun cabinet in the living room. “I’m kind of hoping I won’t need to use a weapon,” he said, flipping the key in the air and catching it. It disappeared back in his pocket.
Hannah refused to think about the fact that Mimi was so spooked she’d handed this man a key to the guns within hours of meeting him. “And if you do need to use one?”
“Then I will.” He put his hands on her shoulders and stared down at her. Despite her best intentions, her pulse throbbed in her throat. His mouth mesmerized her as a sensuous smile lifted one corner of his upper lip. She prepared herself for—well, for anything. Why deny the fact she was attracted to him as she’d never been attracted to anyone before? It didn’t mean she had to act on it, but pretending it didn’t exist wasn’t working, either.
“Go to bed,” he whispered.
She escaped with her pride barely intact but she slept like a rock, so lost in unidentifiable dreams that the next morning, it was clear Aubrielle had been crying for a while. After taking care of her tiny daughter’s needs, she carried her into the living room.
The plastic on the window served as a vivid reminder of the rock and the attached warning that had sailed through the night before. Juggling Aubrielle and the phone book, she found the number of the one and only place in town that handled things like broken windows and arranged for an estimate.
What did the person who threw the rock think she was doing? That was the big question and though she’d racked her brain a million times in the past twelve hours for an explanation, she simply couldn’t think of one.
She mothered her baby, she did her work, she shopped—her life was a little on the predictable side for bombs and rocks and threatening notes.
She found Jack in the kitchen with her grandmother, the two of them reading the paper and eating burned toast like long-lost friends. Jack was wearing the same clothes as the