The Baby Gift

“I have a duty, Gina.”

“I’m of age. And isn’t it your first duty to make sure I’m kept safe?”

“Someone is probably worried about you. Your family—”

“I don’t feel married.” The statement caught her off guard, even the mournful tone of it. She was married to Eric. He must be the father of the baby moving comfortingly inside her. What could have driven her from home? From him? “What if I end up on the news?”

“Don’t borrow trouble,” the doctor said, placing his hands on hers. “You’re getting all worked up, which is the last thing you need. Your only job at the moment is to get some rest. This has been a traumatic night for you, but your memory is going to come back, and we’ll figure everything out as soon as it does.”

“But where can I go?”

“You go with me,” J.T. said.

She shook her head again and again. “I can’t impose on you. Surely there’s a hotel.”

“No hotel. No bed and breakfast.”

“I don’t feel right…”

“We have no idea what you’re up against, Gina. It’s safer this way.” No other option was reasonable, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. Certainly he didn’t hold her responsible for Eric’s failings, but she was linked with him, this widow of a man he despised—the man responsible for the nightmares that forced J.T. to quit the department, the nightmares that had haunted him long after.

The only consideration now was her need for protection. He would protect her, no matter what the consequences. But would there be a price to pay when she remembered him? One more reason for her to hate him, when she found out he’d kept her identity from her?

His brother must be laughing from heaven. Chiding. In his lucid moments Mark had accused him of living his first life in the days of chivalry, then never stepping fully into the modern world. “Face it,” Mark had said often. “Chivalry’s dead.”

Well, J.T. believed in living by his own code. If that meant giving up the precarious tranquility he’d finally found, in order to offer peace of mind to an innocent woman about to give birth, so be it.

There were worse fates. And the decision got easier just looking at her pale face, at the strain he saw in her eyes. He owed her for the pain he’d caused, no matter how righteous his reasons had been.

Deputy nudged him with his muzzle. J.T. realized that Max had helped Gina into her coat, and they were waiting for him.

After she was buckled into his car, he headed around to the driver’s side. Max stopped him at the rear of the vehicle.

“Are you sure you can handle this?”

The quiet concern in his voice gave J.T. pause. “I have to, Max.”

“There are plenty of people who would take her in.”

“I would worry.” He pulled up his sheepskin collar to warm his ears. “This is the best solution.”

“She’s more than just the widow of an old partner. I can see that.”

“Leave it alone.” Okay, so he’d been drawn to her all those years ago. To her laughter and sweetness. To the adoring glances toward Eric. She was everything he’d wanted but didn’t dare to wish for.

Eric Banning hadn’t deserved her.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow,” Max said, resting his hand on J.T.’s shoulder. “Call me if she shows any signs at all of going into labor, or if her headache gets worse. Or if the moon turns purple.”

J.T. smiled. “Wondering if I was paying attention?”

Max made a noncommittal sound, then took a couple of steps back. “She’ll try to maintain her independence. It seems extremely important to her.”

“I’ll let her think she’s in charge.”

“I’m not some helpless female,” Gina called out the car window.

Both men turned in surprise. J.T. hadn’t heard the window go down.

“This ought to be entertaining,” Max murmured.

Hot air blasted J.T. as he climbed into the car. He started to adjust the heater to a more comfortable level, then hesitated. “You warm enough?” he asked.

“I don’t need to be coddled.”

The kitten had transformed into a tigress. He sent her a curious look. She stared straight out the window.

“I appreciate your giving me a place to stay, and I’ll reimburse you for any expenses you incur. But I’m not an invalid. I’m not incompetent. And I’m certainly not witless. I am confused. Please don’t make it worse by treating me like a child.” She drew a sharp breath. “I’ve said that to someone before. I was mad then, too.”

He remembered the moment as if it were yesterday.

She went silent as they drove the short distance to his house, then said suddenly, “My maiden name was Benedetto.” She pressed a hand to her mouth and looked at him. “How do I know that? And I have brothers and sisters. I remember them. I remember!”

He pulled into the garage, then angled toward her in time to see her push her fingers against her forehead, a signal he’d come to recognize.

It occurred to him that she might remember him before she remembered whoever she was running from—or even before she recalled her late husband. He eyed her thoughtfully. Oh, yeah. She was bound to be plenty mad at being kept in the dark. Added to whatever had driven her from home in the first place, there could be bitter consequences all around.

But weren’t some memories best left buried? If he’d had the chance to forget some things forever…

And yet it was his duty to help her remember, even as he hoped she never did.

He opened his car door. “Don’t push it, Gina. It’ll all come back on its own.”

J.T. helped her out of the car, keeping a hand under her elbow as they entered the house. He looked around, trying to see it from her perspective. He’d banished a lot of his frustrations with a saw and hammer while turning this house into a home.

She didn’t seem to look at her surroundings, however. Exhaustion lined her face. He guided her into the living room and settled her in a chair.

“Just relax for a minute while I get your stuff out of my car and make the guest room ready for you, okay?”

He thought she nodded.

“Okay, Gina? I don’t want to be accused of treating you like a child.”

She looked right at him, cool as snowfall, and he smiled. They’d almost been friends once upon a time. He focused on that.

After three trips he’d carted all of her belongings to the guest room. He folded back the blankets, then carried her toiletries into the adjoining bathroom, one she would share with him because he didn’t want her out of earshot, in case she needed anything.

He returned to the living room and stopped short. What a picture she made, asleep sitting up. He couldn’t begin to imagine the toll this day had taken on her. Every protective instinct flared. Whoever had pushed her into such a dire situation better hope he didn’t show up soon. J.T. couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t wring the guy’s neck. Eric had been bad enough—

He stopped that thought cold.

“Gina.” He cupped her shoulder. She leaned toward him, causing his heart to give a little lurch. The scent of a sun-warmed rose teased him. “Everything’s ready for you.”

“Mm.”

He waited, then, “Do you need help getting ready for bed?”

Her eyes popped open. He smiled.

“I’m not—”

“—a child. Yes, I know.” He did offer a hand up, however, as she swayed a little. “I found your nightgown. It’s on the bed.”

It was the longest ten minutes of his life, waiting for her. He hovered outside her door, listening for any indication she needed him, contemplating one of the items he’d found in her trunk—a sympathy card he’d sent after Eric’s death. Inside it, his handwritten words, an offer of help, if she ever needed anything.

He didn’t even remember sending it, but she’d kept it. No coincidence, after all. She’d been on her way to see him. Why, Gina? What kind of trouble would make you come to me, a man you proclaimed to hate?

Finally he heard the bed springs give a little and a murmur of sound from her.

“Everything all right?” he asked through the door.

“You can come in.”

“Deputy seems to want to sleep with me,” she said when he stepped into the room. “Is that okay?”

J.T. eyed the dog who was already curled up by her feet, a smug look in his eyes.

“He’s a free agent,” J.T. said, drawing a smile from her.

“Thank you for everything, Chief.”

Chief. Well, that was one way of staying detached. “You’re welcome. Good night, Gina.”

She must’ve fallen asleep instantly. He padded around the room, hanging up her jacket, then putting her boots in the closet, needing order in the chaos of his mind. Finished, he leaned across her to pat the fickle dog good night, careful not to disturb her. She made a soft, sleepy sound.

“J.T.?”

His jolt of surprise came less from the fact she was awake but that it seemed both odd and familiar to hear her say his name.

“When I close my eyes, why do I picture you wearing a dark-blue uniform?”

Two

Gina felt him move away from the bed. Opening her eyes, she saw him silhouetted in the bathroom doorway, shoulders set and legs planted, poised for action. She took a moment to admire him, this duty-driven man. His leashed strength and unwavering focus were even more appreciated now that she and her precious cargo were snuggled in a warm bed, out of harm’s way. It had been comforting hearing him move around the room, a brush of denim or a soft footfall the only sounds. But as she’d drifted toward sleep amid the peace his presence brought, a stark image of him imprinted itself in her mind.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

She couldn’t decide whether the edge in his voice was apology or accusation. “Do you wear a blue uniform?” she asked.

“No. Tan shirt, brown pants. Standard issue.”

Her temple pulsed. She spun her wedding ring, still hoping to draw reassurance from it, still finding none.

“There’s a photograph of me in a blue uniform with my parents in the hall outside the room,” he said, “taken the day I graduated from the police academy. I spent nine years on the L.A.P.D. before I accepted this job.”

She closed her eyes as fresh pain lanced her skull. Needing a diversion, she tried to focus on the conversation. “When did you move here?”

“What’s wrong, Gina?”

Silent as a stalking panther, he’d returned to the side of her bed and crouched there, although he didn’t touch her. She could’ve used a hug, a solid shoulder to lean on for just a minute.

“Do you need me to call Max? Are you in labor?”

Distract me, she begged him silently, wishing her head didn’t hurt every time something threatened to cut through the barbed wire guarding her memory. “I’m all right. I realized I could use a couple of extra pillows, though, if you have some.”

A cool breeze fanned her face at his instant departure. Deputy wriggled closer, then rested his head on her thigh, his liquid gaze uncensuring. The baby seemed settled, as well. Bracketed by baby and dog, Gina felt a contentment that she knew somehow was rare for her. Why?

And why wasn’t her husband with her? Eric. He should love and protect—

Fear stuck its claws in her, its talons wickedly sharp. What if it was Eric she was running from?

What if it wasn’t?

The chief suddenly loomed over her. “Are two pillows enough?”

She clenched the blanket with her fists, tucking it to her chin. Maybe she couldn’t trust anyone, not even J.T. Ryker, chief of police of Lost and Found, California. And she was alone with him, under his complete control—

“Gina?”

Deputy lifted his head, whining a little. J.T. patted him, all the while observing something in Gina’s expression he hadn’t seen before. Had her memory returned? He stooped down until they were eye to eye. She drew back. The blanket she gripped like an iron shield shook.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he said, guessing.

“I don’t know you,” she whispered, her eyes wide and searching.

“Yes, you do.”

She shook her head.

“I’m the man who’s going to protect you with his life.”

A watery sheen coated her eyes. Her throat convulsed. “Why would you do that?”

Because I care about you. I always have. The words stayed locked tighter than a cell door. He had his orders from Max. He wasn’t about to jeopardize her recovery by revealing they had a past, and a complicated one at that. Plus, she had a new man in her life, the father of the child she carried.

“I took an oath to protect and serve. It’s not a promise I take lightly. You’re safe with me, Gina. In every possible way.”

She seemed to relax all at once. The blanket fluttered, then drifted over her body, molding it again. Her eyelids lowered a little, her mouth softened. Their gazes met and held. Then, amazingly, she cupped his face with her hand.

“I’ll trust you,” she said quietly.

“Good.” He stood, breaking the contact. “I forgot to ask if you’re hungry.”

“Dr. Hunter gave me some soup while you were gone checking my car.”

She reached for the extra pillows and pulled them under the blankets, one apparently to cushion her belly, the other she shoved farther down. Between her knees? Then she burrowed like a settling kitten.

“If you need anything at all, just shout. I won’t be far,” he said, clenching his fists. He never wanted to see that look of fear in her eyes again. “If Deputy becomes a pain in the rear, tell him to get out.”

“Will he?” she asked, her voice slurred and sleepy. “Get out, that is?”

“Probably not. He’s training impaired. But I’ll hear and come get him.”

She smiled, then her breathing took on the slow, easy rhythm of sleep.

J.T. left the bathroom light on and the door cracked open to guide her should she wake. He looked out the window of his bedroom, noted that the blizzard had let up. Still, between the snow and the televised Rose Parade and football games, people would likely stay home today, and he wouldn’t be needed in his office. He’d heard the Caltrans crew pass by twice, already plowing the state highway. He lived close to the highway because of the accessibility, no matter what the weather. Most people would have to clear their own driveways or wait for Barney Cochran’s teenage sons to roll out of bed and plow the private roads they were contracted to do. J.T. also needed to have Gina’s car brought to his place.

His mouth twisted in a half smile. Everyone would see the unfamiliar car, and word would spread that he had a guest for the first time since he’d come to town. The rumors would start…

Turning from the window, he dropped onto his bed. With effort he tugged off his boots, then stretched out on the quilt, exhaustion rolling in waves down his body, but sleep not even a temptation. The nightmare would return. He didn’t doubt it for a second.

How long could he stall it?

He drew a deep, settling breath. That didn’t help, either. Gina’s perfume clung to his shirt, reminding him of their first meeting. She, a Phoenix, Arizona, transplant about to start her sophomore year at the University of Southern California. He, a thirty-one-year-old big-city cop trying not to let the job make him too cynical.

He had taken the youth athletic league team he co-coached with his partner, Eric Banning, to Tony’s Pizza after they’d won the age-ten-to-twelve division championship. Somewhere between the game and the party, Eric had disappeared—not a surprise. J.T. never had figured out why Eric had wanted to help coach, since he showed up only sporadically at the practices and games. He’d probably met some woman in the stands or the parking lot or at a traffic signal, and had gone off with her, his usual modus operandi. J.T. wasn’t about to let it spoil the kids’ celebration.

That first hot slice of pepperoni and sausage was calling his name when Gina walked through the door, wearing jeans, a plain white T-shirt, black leather jacket and boots, her long, dark hair shiny, her eyes sparkling. He barely noticed the two young women flanking her. Why would he? She was magnetic.

The restaurant might as well have been empty, except for them. Her eyes met his, and he finally understood that time really could stand still. Her smile froze, then softened before she looked away, her brows lifting at the last second, as if asking him a question she didn’t want to wait to have answered.

One by one his young players left with their families. He stayed and watched as she shot some rounds of pool, her jeans cupping an enticing rear end, the rest of her just as curvy. Leaning against her propped cue stick between shots, she returned his stare, less blatant but just as frequent.

It was crazy. He didn’t pick up women, yet he wanted to drive this one home and sleep with her that very night. Hell, he would’ve taken her right then and there on the pool table if he could have.

And because his attraction was so powerful, he waited for her to make the first move.

She finally did. After winning her fourth match, she silently held out a cue stick. Anticipation roared through him as he accepted her invitation. Or was it a challenge?

“J.T. Ryker,” he said as he wrapped his hand around the stick, taking care not to touch her.

“I’m Gina Benedetto.” She cocked her head. “And J.T. stands for…?”

A drift of flowery perfume reached him. “Jasper Thelonius.”

Her eyes twinkled. She leaned into him a little, her radiant heat stoking his fire a little hotter. “Or perhaps Jarvis Thurgood?”

“One’s as good as the other.”

“I’ll find out, you know. Somehow.”

Because he was tempted to kiss the smile off her lips, he reached around her to pick up a cube of chalk, his arm brushing hers. The air popped and sizzled between them. Out of control. This is way out of control. Shaken, he took a step back, hiding behind the motion of chalking the cue tip. “May I buy you a beer, Gina Benedetto?”

“You could, um, Junior Titus—” she flirted easily, naturally “—but the cops would probably haul you in.”

He knew, then. Knew before she said the words that there was no future with her, not tonight, not any night.

“I’m eighteen,” she added. “Nineteen soon, though.”

Eighteen. Might as well be a century between them. She hadn’t lived yet. And he…he had already lived too long.

Not finding a robe among the clothes in her closet, Gina showered and dressed before she left the guest room at a little past noon. Her night’s sleep had been interrupted several times by periodic trips to the bathroom or to walk off leg cramps. She might not be fully rested—was anyone this pregnant ever fully rested? she wondered—but she was relaxed. And hopeful.

No headache, so far. That was progress.

Her stomach rumbled, sending her in search of food. She wondered if the chief was at home. A glance into his bedroom as she’d shut and locked both bathroom doors had netted her a glimpse of an imposing four-poster bed. Sturdy pine furnishings and a cobalt-blue comforter and curtains lent a strong, masculine look to the tidy but warm and inviting room, one free of clutter or knickknacks. On the walls hung a couple of seascape watercolors that she wanted to inspect a little more closely, but she wouldn’t enter his room without an invitation. He’d already helped her above and beyond his responsibilities as a police officer, without complaining about the imposition.

Gina admired his house as she moved from room to room. The comfortably rustic furnishings melded with trees and mountains visible through huge windows, creating an indoor environment as impressive as the outdoor one. This wasn’t a house but a home, well loved and tended.

She found him sitting at a counter in the kitchen, sipping from a mug and reading, and dressed in his uniform, a gun holstered at his waist. He looked up from the book. Her breath caught a little at the intensity in his rich, golden eyes. Although his gaze never strayed from her face, she felt him look her up and down, as if she were a slender, sexy woman instead of…what she was. Wishful thinking, she chided herself, then frowned. She had no business wanting him to see her as a woman. She was married—

“Good morning,” she said firmly, changing the direction of her thoughts. He didn’t smile, exactly, but his expression wasn’t as fierce as last night. He really was an attractive man, in an I’m-the-boss kind of way, his uniform reinforcing the all-male, in-charge impression. She didn’t know a person could set his jaw that hard without shattering it.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Hmm.” She craned her neck to see the title of the book: Pregnancy and Childbirth. “A little light reading?”

“Found it in your trunk. I’ve been trained in how to deliver a baby, but I don’t know much about pregnancy.” He pointed to a cutaway drawing of an eight-months-pregnant woman. “This is you right now. How do you breathe?”

“Breathing’s not as much a problem as staying within bathroom range.” She examined the picture a little more closely. “I feel sorrier for the baby, all cramped up like that.”

This time his gaze did encompass her whole body, then lingered on her belly, as if he had permission now to look.

He picked up his mug again. “So, does ‘hmm’ mean you did or didn’t sleep well?”

“As well as can be expected.”

“You didn’t ask for help.” Accusation and maybe even disappointment rang in his words.

“I didn’t need any. But thank you for the offer.” She smiled at him, hoping to break the tension.

His frown deepened.

“Look, Chief, I’ve got enough problems without you being mad over whether I can find the bathroom during the night. If I couldn’t take care of myself, I wouldn’t have left home, I think, no matter what the situation there. Okay?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

He started to stand. She put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place, felt his muscles clench. “I can fix something for myself. Have you eat— Oh! Good morning, baby.”

She closed her eyes a moment as she flattened her hand on top of her belly. “She’s been quiet this morning. I’d started to worry.”

“She?”

A smile lit up her eyes. “Don’t ask me how I know that. Do you want to feel her?”

Before he could answer, she grabbed his hand and placed it where hers had been. Even though her sweater made a bulky barrier, the intimacy startled him silent. The wonder of feeling something poking at her from inside made him relax his hand.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” she said, breathless, then laughed when the baby kicked harder.

J.T. stood. He couldn’t allow that kind of bond to form between them, not now, not ever. That baby belonged to some other man.

And becoming a father was a fantasy J.T. had long ago abandoned.

“Max wants you to call him,” he said abruptly, picking up the phone and punching a speed dial number. “I’ll fix breakfast today. Tomorrow you can.”

“You expect me to still be here?” She put the receiver to her ear. “No reports have come through?”

“None. Oatmeal okay?”

“Do you have chocolate chips?”

He must have looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, because she grinned.

“Cravings. It’s like eating an oatmeal and chocolate chip cookie for break— Good morning, Dr. Hunter. This is Gina Banning.”

J.T. listened to her answer Max’s questions as he measured water, salt and oatmeal into a microwavable bowl, then went in search of chocolate chips. He’d already fixed a bowl of orange sections, mixed with banana slices and sprinkled with chopped walnuts. It had been a long time since he’d made anyone breakfast.

“He says my blood pressure was pretty high last night, so he’ll stop by in a little while to check it again,” Gina said, coming up beside J.T. “What can I do to help?”

“Everything’s under control. No chocolate chips, but I can break up a candy bar, if that’ll work.”

“That would be great. Just a few small pieces tossed in when the oatmeal is done. A little goes a long way. Thanks.” She pressed her cheek to his arm for a second, then moved away.