The Baby Gift. Susan CrosbyЧитать онлайн книгу.
and Found seems like a good place to hide.” She dipped her spoon into the cereal. “How did you end up here?”
“Purely by chance.” At least this much of the story he could tell her honestly. “After I left L.A. I decided to travel. A couple of months into the trip I stopped here and had lunch at Belle’s Diner. By the time lunch was over, a bunch of the townspeople had held a meeting right there in front of me, then offered me the job of police chief, fire chief, dog catcher and anything else they thought of along the way, as necessary. They’d been looking for six months.”
“And you said yes.”
“I gave it some thought. About ten seconds.” He smiled at the memory. “Aaron Taylor walked over to his hardware and auto parts store, and came back with a gold badge, Deputy, his food and water dishes, and a warning that the dog howled when left alone. He still does.”
“Why did you leave L.A.?”
The back door opened, bringing a blast of cold air, nature’s change of subject. Deputy charged into the adjoining utility room, followed by Max, who stomped his boots on a throw rug just inside the door.
“Sun’s breaking through. It’s blinding out there,” he announced. “Your dog treed Mrs. Foley’s cat again.”
J.T. grimaced. “So that’s where he’s been.” He walked past Max and grabbed his jacket from a peg by the door. “I’d better go rescue the cat before Mrs. Foley starts hollering. Think I’ll swing by my office for a few minutes, too, if you don’t mind.”
Max followed him out the door. “You want me to baby-sit?”
“Does she need it?”
“It’s probably not a good idea to leave her alone yet.” Max lowered his voice. “From what I’ve learned, we were right to let her try to work things out on her own first. After a few days we might jog her memory along a little.”
And so the charade continues, but at what cost? J.T. wondered.
The door opened behind them.
“Anything you have to say about me can be said to me,” she told them, her fists propped on her hips. “In fact, I insist.”
J.T. smiled at the sight. Did she really think she looked tough? Not with her hair swirling around her shoulders like that and her cheeks glowing pink. And especially not with those all-too-feminine curves. Tough? Nope. Soft and maternal. Irresistible.
Irresistible? He swallowed against the significance of the word.
“I’m serious,” she said.
“Good thing I’m the one with the gun.”
Her eyes narrowed. She started down the stairs. “Look, Chief—”
“Stay put. I’ll explain,” Max said, as the telephone rang inside the house.
“Mrs. Foley,” J.T. muttered.
“I’ll handle her, too.”
“Handle?” Gina repeated, dangerously low.
“A figure of speech,” Max said.
“It better be.” J.T. gritted his teeth. He looked at Gina, wondering if she’d heard.
She stared at him, into him. The phone stopped ringing, leaving a stinging silence. He could try to back-pedal and end up looking more ridiculous than he already did, or he could ignore it, hoping she didn’t read too much into his spontaneous remark.
What was that old saying? Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool, than to open it and remove all doubt?
No doubt about it, he was a damned fool when it came to her. Always had been. Max didn’t help, either, by just standing there, grinning like an idiot.
The moment stretched like cheese on pizza, a long string of awkwardness, getting thinner and thinner.
“Take your time. I’ll be fine,” Gina said, kindly slicing through the tension.
Well, Mark, what would you say about that? he asked his brother silently. The damsel rescues the knight. Chivalry’s not dead. It’s just switched genders.
Three
Except for the crackle and hiss from the fireplace, it was quiet. Gina eased into wakefulness, trying to recapture bits and pieces of a new dream, something to do with pool tables and pizza. The man with the military haircut was there, laughing, sliding his arm around her waist. J.T. stood nearby, somber and watchful, wearing a dark-blue uniform. Every time she walked toward him, he disappeared. The other man kissed her—
Her eyes flew open. Disoriented and breathless, she looked around J.T.’s living room, where she’d taken her third nap of the day. The lights were off except for one small table lamp. A glance at the mantel clock told her it was a little past ten o’clock. She’d slept for two hours straight—a record.
And she was safe. Her heart stopped thundering; tension melted away.
“I thought I heard you moving around.”
J.T. came into view, a comforting sight.
“Then you must have incredible hearing,” she said, admiring his long, lean lines for a moment. Pregnancy hadn’t made her immune to him as a man. He’d been good company all day, besides. Not very talkative, but an attentive listener. “I haven’t moved, Chief. I can’t.”
He crouched beside her, concern in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Your sofa is way too cushy. I think I’m embedded for life. Or until I get my abdominal muscles back.”
He helped her to sit up, then sat beside her, his expression serious. The clock ticked. The fire popped. Remnants of the dream knotted her stomach. Still, she was intrigued by him. There had been moments since she’d dropped into his life that he seemed to wish he’d never been saddled with her. Other times he looked so deep into her that heat radiated head to toe at the invasion. She’d felt at ease with him almost from the beginning, but this was the first time he’d chosen to sit so close to her…
Oh. She understood now. His home and office computers were linked. He was about to give her news she wasn’t going to like.
“Some chicken soup?” he asked.
“In a little while.” She linked her fingers, squeezing until they hurt. Her imagination ran wild with possibilities. “What have you found out?”
His hesitation was tangible. “Nothing.”
“Is that the truth?”
“You asked me not to feed your name into the system, but so far no one has reported you as missing.”
“What do you think it means?”
Again a hesitation, this time a little more ominous. “Frankly, I’d feel more comfortable if someone was searching for you through legal channels.”
“Me, too.” Pushing herself up, she walked to the fireplace and held her hands out to the flames. The heat barely penetrated her cold skin—and colder thoughts. “There’s another possibility, though. Maybe no one cares that I’m gone. Which is worse, do you think?”
“Gina—”
“No. Please don’t baby me. I need to know what I’m facing.”
She heard him come up behind her. He didn’t touch her, yet his warmth transferred to her. He would protect her with his life, he’d said. She believed him, and with that belief came trust, 100 percent.
She stared at her wedding ring. Pain hammered her head, vibrated behind her eyes. Instead of ignoring the signal and backing away from it, she tried to focus on what it meant.
“What if there’s a reason that I don’t feel married? Maybe I’m not. I might be wearing a ring so