Live-In Lover

Molly pushed back in her seat and covered her face with her hands, willing her anger to overcome the fear. Then she looked up at the rearview mirror. The dash lights provided a dim reflection of Damien’s eyes, those wonderful blue eyes.

How in the world could he calm and reassure her with a glance and create such turmoil in her at the same time?

Shortly after one in the morning, Damien drove through Clarkston, the small town where he had rented the house for Brenda Devereaux and the baby. He swung into the parking lot of a Texaco station, chose a shadowy corner, and cut the engine.

“They’ve rolled up the sidewalks, I see,” Brenda remarked, propping her elbow on the window and resting her head on her hand. “Don’t see a soul.”

She sounded and looked exhausted. Hell, they were all fatigued except for the baby. Little Sydney slept on, unaware that her father had caused such a ruckus. Hopefully Jensen would never locate them in this place. Still, one could never be too careful.

No cars cruised the streets. Even the convenience store opposite the gas station was closed for the night. Except for a few lighted windows in a house here and there—late-night readers or late show enthusiasts—it appeared the entire town of Clarkston was asleep.

Satisfied they had not been followed or anticipated, Damien pulled out onto the street, counting the houses north from the first traffic light until he came to the one he sought.

The streetlights illuminated the typical, small, Southern-town cottage, a modest one-story, its fat square columns supporting the roof of a wide front porch. The house sat near the end of Main Street, sandwiched between two others that appeared similar in style. An added benefit was the proximity to a three-man police station situated only two blocks away.

Though everyone knew it was much easier to hide someone in a large city, Damien figured now was definitely the time to do the unexpected. Jensen probably wouldn’t bother looking for Brenda and the baby anyway when he realized Molly hadn’t accompanied them into hiding.

He made a mental note to thank the local Bureau office and especially the agent whom he had contacted earlier. When he had explained the situation, and told her about Ford’s sister, Agent Kim Avery suggested this place and made the arrangements. It certainly fit all his specifications. The location was perfect.

Even the rent had proved reasonable, though he would never tell Molly this came out of his pocket. As far as she knew, they were making use of a regular safe house.

“Why, this looks lovely, Damien!” Brenda remarked as they pulled into the driveway and the car lights flashed the front of the structure.

“All the comforts of home, I hope.” He shut off the car and got out, opened the back door first and lifted the baby out for Molly.

Damien couldn’t deny how he looked forward to holding the child again. It wouldn’t do to dwell much on just why he felt that way. She was cute, that was all. Cuddly and sweet, like a puppy you could hand back to the owner once you’d admired it sufficiently.

Such trust, to sleep in a stranger’s arms, Damien thought to himself. He could hardly credit it, even in one so young. He had rarely slept in the presence of another person, except in dorms and army barracks when he’d had no choice. Even then, he’d had to be all but comatose with exhaustion to do so.

Under sedation in the hospital, he’d had no problem sleeping. Of course, at that time he had almost hoped someone would sneak in and put him out of his misery.

He smiled inwardly, mocking the inborn caution he often carried to extremes. Damien sometimes wondered if he hadn’t embarked on professions that made his bogeymen very real, just so he could finally confront them face-to-face.

He held the totally limp child, her tiny bum resting on his forearm and her head on his shoulder, until they reached the front door.

“Better let me go in first,” he said. Quickly he shifted Sydney to her mother’s arms, knelt to retrieve the key from under the potted geranium where Kim had said she would leave it.

“Wait here in the shadows where you can’t be seen from the street,” he ordered. The women did exactly as he said without any argument.

He pulled his weapon, released the safety and unlocked the door. His search was not cursory, even though he didn’t believe there was any way Jack could have discovered their destination.

When he found the place entirely safe as he’d expected, he clicked on a lamp in the living room, returned to the front door and pushed it open. “Come in, ladies. It’s actually much more agreeable than I’d hoped.”

“Was that really necessary? Jack couldn’t possibly have been hiding out in there,” Molly snapped as she brushed past him into the house. He immediately forgave her impatience. She was tired and the child was heavy. Her nerves were probably shot.

He smiled at her. “No, but Jack’s not the only bear in the woods, now is he? I was merely being cautious.”

“And we thank you, don’t we, Molly?” Brenda asked with a meaningful nod and a dark look at her daughter. He had never considered that a mother might reprimand a fully grown child with any effect.

“Sorry,” Molly murmured grudgingly. “Thanks.”

Damien turned away so she couldn’t see his grin. “You’re quite welcome. Well, what do you think?” He gestured toward the dimly lit room furnished with Victorian replicas and faded fabrics. Old-fashioned crocheted antimacassars and knickknacks remained where they’d probably been for decades. He rather liked it.

Agent Avery said the owner had died and the heir was delighted to rent until he had time to arrange an auction for the furnishings and the house.

Damien had hired Avery to stock the kitchen, have the beds made up and linens put out. All the comforts of home. This was the agent’s hometown, as luck would have it, and she’d even provided a cover story for Brenda so she wouldn’t be a stranger in town.

“A little bit prissy, but it looks cozy. It’s nice,” Molly said, trailing her free hand along the back of a damask-covered chair. She wandered down the wide hall and pushed open a bedroom door.

Brenda followed. Damien left them to explore the house while he brought in the luggage.

He set it down in the hallway, returned to lock the door and turn out the light in the living room. Then he followed their voices to the master bedroom.

They were exclaiming over the crib placed near the large tester bed where Brenda had declared she would sleep.

He must remember to tell Ford Devereaux how fortunate he was to have such friends as Avery to work with. If he ever saw him again. Like as not, Damien would be gone before Devereaux returned. If not, some tall explanations would be in order when Molly found out they hardly knew each other.

Shrugging off the thought, he interrupted them to proceed with the plan. “Brenda, while you’re here, you are supposed to be Kim Avery’s aunt, so you’ll use her last name. She’s an agent who grew up here in Clarkston, but lives in Nashville. She and your son work out of the same office.”

Brenda frowned. “I don’t believe I know her.”

“It doesn’t matter. Kim will be your contact if you need to reach us. Whatever you do, don’t call us directly. Her number is on the list by the phone in the kitchen.”

“Will I get to meet her?” Brenda asked. “It was very nice of her to do this.”

“She’ll probably check in with you by phone to see if you need anything she didn’t provide. You needn’t be reclusive, but stay indoors as much as you can. The backyard should suffice as a play area so, hopefully, you won’t get cabin fever,” Damien assured her.

“We’ll be quite comfortable here, I think.”

“Get some rest now,” he suggested. “Molly and I will wait in the living room for a couple of hours, just to make certain everything’s safe. We need to be back in Nashville before dawn, but we’ll wake you before we leave and say goodbye.”

To his surprise, the woman came toward him and encircled him with her arms. “Thank you so much, Damien. I know you’ll keep my baby safe, just like her brother would if he were here.”

Then she stood on tiptoe, took his face in her hands and kissed his cheek, a warm, friendly display like none he could ever recall receiving.

“And you be careful yourself, hear?” she added, patting his shoulders firmly before she released him completely and stepped back.

“Of course,” he answered, feeling decidedly off center. Nobody ever gave a damn whether he was careful, unless it affected the outcome of a case.

He looked at Molly to see her reaction to her mother’s gesture toward him, but she was busy making the baby comfortable in the new crib.

At that moment, she leaned over the side and kissed her daughter’s head, much in the same way Brenda had just kissed his face. With caring and worry and affection.

Damien felt something well up inside his chest and throat, a keen ache almost like hunger. He was afraid these little tastes of familial warmth would never be enough if he ever got used to them.

Might as well shake it off, he decided firmly, because he didn’t intend to spend more than two weeks dealing with this problem.

What did a man like him know or even care about family interaction, anyway? He must be getting maudlin in his old age.

He gently grasped Molly’s arm and guided her toward the door. “Sleep well,” he ordered Brenda in a curt whisper. “Molly, you might catch a few winks on the sofa. I’ll keep watch.”

But Damien couldn’t dismiss the feeling that gripped him, the powerful need for human contact these three somehow had awakened. Loneliness overwhelmed him all of a sudden, a bleakness he had accepted as his due for so long that he hadn’t even realized it was there.

As soon as he and Molly cleared the hallway and stood in the darkness of the living room, he turned and enfolded her in a fierce hug. Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips against her temple and simply held her tight. Much to his surprise, she allowed it.

“Try not to be afraid,” he whispered. “I will keep you safe from him.”

“I know,” she answered softly. Her voice quavered, but not with fear. Damien wondered if he had made a total fool of himself and it amused her, or if his holding her this way pleased her as much as it did him.

He realized they couldn’t stand there all night locked in an embrace. Eventually, he had to let her go. He did so with as much dignity as he could manage to recoup, and led her to the overstuffed sofa.

“Better get some sleep, if you can,” he advised, looking down at her, sounding gruff when he hadn’t meant to.

“Come sit with me,” she offered, patting the cushion next to her.

Damien looked down at her strong, capable hand with its long, flexible artist’s fingers. His gaze traveled up her arm, noting the soft fleecy shirt with the brightly colored hearts embroidered just above her left breast. “Not wise,” he answered with a self-deprecating laugh.

Molly grabbed his hand and tugged. He sat.

“Do you feel it, too, Damien?” she asked, her voice soft, worried.

He could pretend he didn’t understand her, but what was the use? Every time they touched—however lightly, whatever the reason—blood rushed though his veins at warp speed and heated to a boil. Of course he felt it, too. How could he not? And it was certainly more than familial warmth he wanted when he did. “Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

“Nothing can come of it,” she said. “I know I already warned you once, but I just wanted to make sure you understand that I mean it. I’m not playing games here, Damien.”

“Oh, I believe you. No games.” He sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly, trying to draw on his professionalism or anything else that would rein in these impulses that were so new to him.

He couldn’t count the people who had accused him of being cold, dispassionate. Never in his life had he been so near to losing control, so close to saying and doing things that would be totally out of character. He wanted this woman more than his next breath.

Molly threaded her fingers through his and squeezed his hand, placing her other palm on top. “Trust me, Damien, this will go away. It’s probably just the…situation or something causing it. In the meantime, I think…I think we should just ignore it.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at him. “Don’t you?”

He shrugged. “If you want.” Her face looked so earnest in the faint glow of the streetlight through the sheer-curtained window. “However, if you do want that, my darling, then I have to get up from here and sit somewhere else. If I don’t, I am definitely going to kiss you.”

Her silence and absolute stillness seemed to imply consent. God, he hoped it meant consent.

Slowly, giving her time to escape, Damien lowered his mouth to hers. A tentative touch of lips, and then all hell broke loose.

He just lost it. His brain reeled with relief at her eager response, the lush texture of her mouth, her tongue, the unique and heady taste of her. A fire broke out within him that consumed them both.

Molly threw herself into the blaze, grasping him as urgently as he was holding her. Her heart thundered against his chest. He stretched out, pulling her entire length parallel to his, half on, half off the sofa.

Dimly, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he realized he should be holding back, letting her lead the way. But she followed so passionately and with such abandon, he refused to heed the instinct for self-preservation that had protected him for so long.

On and on they kissed, turning this way and angling that, their lips and bodies seeking better purchase, a closer melding, a oneness….

“I guess a pot of coffee’s out of the question!”

The lamp came on and Damien and Molly broke apart like teenagers caught by the cops.

Brenda laughed. “I could almost hear the pop! Well, I’ll just—” she waved one arm aimlessly “—toddle on back to bed, I guess.”

“No! Wait!” Molly gasped. “Mama, I swear this is not what you think—”

Her mother flapped a hand in their direction. “Oh, can it, Molly. You’re too old to owe me any explanations. Sorry I interrupted.”

“Brenda?” Damien was stymied when she actually stopped and turned around to face them, grinning wickedly. In the dim light, she reminded him so much of Molly that he shook his head to dispel the comparison.

“Yes, Agent Perry?” she drawled.

“Uh, coffee would be good.”

“Exactly what we need!” Molly proclaimed a little too loudly. She scrambled up off the sofa and dashed toward the hallway, halting suddenly.

“Kitchen’s the other way,” Brenda advised her drolly. She glanced at Damien, shook her head and winked. “The girl needs a keeper.”

Damien bit his lips together and nodded, totally at a loss as to what he should say. He wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t exactly funny. Not now, anyway. Molly certainly wasn’t amused.

Brenda linked her arm through his and sighed as they followed Molly through the dining room to the kitchen. “You can bypass the red-faced apology, sweetie. It’s not like I’m gonna drag out my shotgun and demand that you marry her just because of a little kiss.”

Little kiss? He didn’t know what to say to that, either. If she’d been a scant two minutes later, she might have seen a more justifiable reason than a kiss to make her demand. And Brenda knew it, too.

What was the big deal here? Molly was nearly thirty years old, not some witless little innocent he’d been about to deflower. They were free to do whatever they pleased, wherever they wanted to do it, two consenting adults.

His conscience reared up even as he had the defensive thoughts. Molly was not one to take lovemaking as lightly as all that. To tell the truth, he didn’t think he could, either. Not with her.

And had she really consented? Or had he sort of forced the issue a little. She was depending on him to protect her. Had he given her the idea that a little payment was necessary in lieu of the money she’d offered him at first?

Well, he certainly wasn’t about to bring that up for discussion. They hadn’t made love and it was highly unlikely that he would find himself in this predicament again with Molly. She had made it quite clear that she did not want a relationship with him other than his extending her protection.

Brenda nudged him with her elbow. “I like you, Damien.” She whispered low enough so that Molly couldn’t hear. “But if you’re just playing, it would be wise to back off.”

Damien kept his mouth firmly shut and nodded once. He had not been playing at all.

Brenda was right about one thing, however. Backing off definitely should be his next step, the wisest move all the way around.

Chapter 5

Molly cursed her impulsive nature all the way back to Nashville. She had let him kiss her, for goodness’ sake. Not only that, she had encouraged him to, and very nearly got more than she bargained for. What was she thinking?

She hadn’t been thinking at all, if she was honest about it. Never mind how many of her fantasies he’d fulfilled with that kiss. Even now, this long after, she could still feel the texture of his lips, still taste him, and shiver with the need for more.

The man had always turned her on like the White House Christmas tree. All he had to do was look at her and it was like plugging her in. Worse yet, she was glowing right now, just thinking about it. About him. Damn!

And hadn’t Mama embarrassed the daylights out of both of them, walking in on them that way. Sometimes the woman could still make her feel as though she were thirteen, nothing but knees and elbows and ugly red hair.

Try as she might, however, Molly couldn’t lay all the blame on her mother for tonight’s little humiliation. No, she had brought it on herself. And Damien.

She threw him a surreptitious glance. Mr. Cool hadn’t even blushed once. Only now she knew what he hid behind that mask of his. The man was dynamite disguised as a prayer candle.

“I told you so,” she mumbled, half hoping he wouldn’t hear her.

“What’s that?” he asked, calmly steering the car along as if they were on a Sunday outing. She resented his composure. What did it take to rattle him, anyway?

“I warned you we couldn’t act on it,” Molly answered.

“Apparently we could and did. You want an apology?”

Thank heaven he hadn’t smiled. If he had, Molly thought she might have to smack him. “Not necessary. Just see that it doesn’t happen again.” She knew she sounded grumpy and mean, but she was trying to make a point here. She was not going to have an affair with him.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Your mother told me that I should back off.”

“She did what?”

He nodded. “Brenda worries about you. Thinks I might be…‘playing’ was the word I believe she used.”

Molly rolled her eyes and pounded her fists on her legs. What was she supposed to do now? If she railed about her mother’s ridiculous warning, it might make him think she disagreed with her, that she thought he shouldn’t back off and that he wasn’t playing at all.

“Are you playing?” she asked before thinking.

Damien looked at her then, raised one brow and then fastened his gaze back on the road. “No.”

Well, what did he mean by that? He was serious about her, or serious about sex? She did think this time and kept her mouth shut. For miles they rode in silence so thick she could hardly breathe in it.

Molly couldn’t stand it. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.” She was, but her life was too messed up at the moment to add any more tangles. “I just can’t.”

“You are that certain you know what I want?” he asked. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure myself.”

Oh, she knew all right. A chuckle escaped before she could contain it.

“No, it’s true,” he argued. “It’s probably not you at all, just what you represent.”

“Oh, well, great! That does wonders for my ego. And it was none too healthy to begin with, thank you very much.” She ran a hand through her unruly hair and tugged on it. He was enough to make her pull it out by the roots.

The expression on his face was a mixture of embarrassment and contrition, new for him.

He pulled the car over, put it in Park and turned to her. “Look, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that you are a part of something I’ve never experienced, a way of life I’m not familiar with. You and the child and your mother have something…”

“A dysfunctional family? And that appeals to you?”

“Don’t,” he ordered. “Do not make fun of what you have together. You can’t know—”

“Oh, yes, I do know! My father left us when I was too young to remember him. Mama had to work and found so little time to spend with us, Ford and I were absolutely wild, the scourges of the neighborhood. And it wasn’t a very nice neighborhood, I can tell you! We fought the world and fought each other.”

“Sounds wonderful,” he said.

Molly shrugged. “Then I up and married the scum of the earth who got me pregnant and beat me silly. They thought that was my fault, and maybe it was. It’s a flaming wonder any of us even speak to each other.”

The sadness in his eyes stopped her ranting. “But you love one another,” he said quietly. “Don’t you?”

She scoffed at the question. “Well, yeah, but what’s so unusual about that? Your family has to love you. It’s not like they have a choice.”

Damien slowly shook his head. He remained silent as he turned away from her and started the car again.

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