The Baby's Bodyguard

“Hi.” She wished she didn’t feel so awkward around Al and his wife Mary, who had once been like a second set of parents. “How’s it going?”

“All right.” Al looked meaningfully from Royce to the truck sitting with its hood open. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Almost done.” He headed off to finish the repairs.

Casey stood there wondering what to say, although she doubted she could patch this relationship no matter how hard she tried. She and Al’s daughter Sandra had been her best friend for years. When they moved to L.A. together, she knew the Rawlinses had seen her as an anchor for their high-spirited child, but she hadn’t been able to stop the aspiring actress from getting mixed up with drugs. Finally she’d had to move out for her own safety.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” she said at last and went out to the car. Al didn’t answer.

In L.A., she’d hated the sense of letting Sandra down. A week after leaving, she’d gone back to their old apartment hoping to persuade her friend to give up drugs. She’d discovered that a couple of new people had moved in. Not only were they obviously high, but Sandra had joined them in making sarcastic remarks about do-gooders.

Although Casey had attempted a few more times to maintain the friendship, Sandra had bridled at any suggestion of what she termed pushiness. Since the conflict between them didn’t help her friend, Casey had finally stopped calling.

A short time later, she’d met Jack at the restaurant where she worked as assistant manager. He’d stopped in for lunch with his partner, flirted with her and returned that evening to ask Casey on a date.

She’d been struck by how different he was from Sandra’s fast-living friends and the other, rather superficial men she’d met in California. At first, she’d been drawn to his quiet strength. Later, her admiration had grown as she’d discovered both his intelligence and how hard he’d worked to overcome his lack of family support.

They’d married a few months later and spent two years together. Two years of finding out that she couldn’t fill the void left inside Jack by his miserable childhood. Two years of loving a guy who spent most of his time working and who didn’t know how to meet her halfway emotionally.

Casey had hoped a baby would bring them together, but he’d adamantly refused to have one. The stronger her longing grew, the more her husband had withdrawn.

Matters had come to a head a year earlier when she visited Tennessee to help her widowed mother recover from a heart attack. Being back in Richfield Crossing had made Casey realize how lonely and isolated she’d become.

On her return, she’d told Jack she was willing to stay in L.A. only if he would change his mind about children. When he refused, she’d filed for divorce.

Casey still missed him, especially at times such as last night when she’d yearned for his reassuring steadiness. But in the long run, she was better off standing on her own two feet. Besides, she had baby Diane to take care of now and to love.

Still, she couldn’t pretend she preferred it this way. Or maybe the overcast sky was weighing on her spirits, she conceded as she drove along Old Richfield Road. Living in California, she’d grown accustomed to almost constant sunshine.

Casey shook her head. No use blaming the weather. The memory of last night’s close encounter had heightened her sense of vulnerability and this feeling was compounded by her approaching delivery date. But she refused to yield to negative thoughts.

So what if she encountered a few obstacles? She’d never believed life was meant to be easy. And she had much to be grateful for.

Her mood lightened when she caught sight of the freshly painted green-and-white sign advertising the Pine Woods Court. Turning into the driveway past the compartmentalized community mailbox, she rounded some trees and basked in the lights shining from her house into the gray afternoon.

Casey parked in the carport. As soon as she opened the front door, the scents of vanilla and cinnamon engulfed her. She could hear pans rattling in the kitchen.

Enid and Rita must have spent hours decorating. They’d draped the walls with pink honeycomb bells and had floated bunches of baby-shaped balloons up to the ceiling. A stork centerpiece dominated the paper-covered table, with candies strewn about. On the coffee table, bowls of nuts circled a pair of candles in the form of baby bottles.

“This is fabulous.” Casey hurried into the kitchen. “Whatever you’re baking, it smells great.”

Two flushed faces regarded her, one at the oven, where the owner was removing a tray of sweet rolls, and the other from the counter. At seventy-one, Enid Purdue still carried herself with the authority of a high-school math teacher. She wore her champagne-blond hair fluffed, with a flowered dress softening her figure. As Casey entered, she finished propping two cards on which her bold handwriting labeled one coffeepot “leaded” and the other “unleaded.”

Shorter and rounder, Rita Rogers, who was about half Enid’s age, manipulated the hot pan onto the stovetop. Rita might be mentally handicapped but she worked hard in the cafeteria of the Benson Glass Company and never missed a chance to help a friend. She also knew her way around an oven.

A wave of gratitude flooded through Casey. “You guys are amazing.”

“Thanks.” Rita glowed with pleasure.

“How’s the camera?” Enid asked. “I brought mine in case we need it, but it isn’t digital.”

“It’s fine.” As she produced it from her purse, Casey no longer worried about how it had come to be damaged. A prowler now seemed a minor problem and, for all she knew, he’d already decided to make himself scarce.

The Pine Woods had been built for happiness. How could anyone ask for a better home to bring a baby into?

As she’d told Royce, she didn’t need a guy. She had her friends.

* * *

JACK REALIZED as he swung through Richfield Crossing that he’d expected something different. Munching on dried jerky he’d bought at a convenience store, he checked out the mismatched structures.

Although he’d never been here before, he’d imagined he knew the place from Casey’s tales about growing up, but he could see now that he’d filled in the blanks wrong. He’d pictured quaint stores packed tightly along the streets, their facades painted in coordinated pastel colors with artsy brickwork in the streets and signs that blazed with neon. Just what he might expect in a California beach community.

Instead, the stores occupied odd-sized lots, dispersed between community buildings, a church, a doctor’s clinic and a seedy-looking bar, plus the occasional house converted into an accounting firm or a law office. In the early evening, most of them lay dark.

Although the town appeared clean and well tended, it would give an urban planner fits. Nothing wrong with that; sometimes Jack thought the urban planners in California got drunk on their own sense of omnipotence. Yet the irregular spacing and the jumbled styles made him feel off balance.

Since renting a car in Nashville, Jack had driven for mile after mile past open fields and vast stretches of dense pine. In the L.A. area, one urban area blended into the next without a break.

He tried, and failed, to imagine living in the middle of nowhere, without a shopping mall or a tall building in sight. Perhaps he’d never get used to a place like this—but then, he didn’t have to.

Following the directions he’d printed from the Internet, he cut through the downtown—if you could call it that—and, a short distance farther, turned right on Pine Woods Avenue. Although he hadn’t traveled more than a few miles from town, farmland occupied one side and, on the other, trees studded the rising ground.

Man, this really was the boonies. How could Casey love it so much?

In L.A., she’d enjoyed browsing through bookstores and curio shops, attending the theater and people-watching at the Santa Monica Pier, none of which she could do in this backwater. Surely once Jack reminded her of the comforts she’d left behind, she’d reconsider.

Besides, he’d come ready to bargain.

He’d worked it out in his mind last night as he visualized the trip ahead. Jack was prepared to reduce his travel for work, although it wouldn’t be easy with Mike eager to expand the company they’d founded because they preferred working for themselves. They’d discussed bringing in a third partner and hiring more operatives, but even then, some travel couldn’t be avoided. Still, he’d find a way to cut back if Casey were willing to give up her preoccupation with a baby.

If she didn’t love him enough to meet him halfway, he’d have to respect that. Have to back off, even though he’d never craved anything as much as her presence in his life. But he didn’t intend to lose.

Besides, Casey had asked him to fix this business with the prowler. And no matter what else happened, he intended to do that.

When he spotted the sign reading Pine Woods Court, Jack veered into the driveway. It curved to the left, so heavily landscaped that, through the leaves, he could barely make out the one-story brick house that he guessed belonged to her.

Next to it, he spotted half a dozen cars parked in a small lot rimmed by trees. Since the driveway continued, he assumed the renters kept their cars at their cabins farther inside the property. So who did all those vehicles belong to?

From the green-and-white house came a burst of laughter. Oh, great. Casey must be giving a party.

Jack pulled into the lot and sat considering the situation. He hadn’t planned on making a grand entrance. Maybe he should drive back into town and find some place to eat dinner, and hope this party didn’t last all evening.

On the other hand, what if the prowler turned out to be someone Casey knew? If so, he might be sitting in her living room right now, enjoying her hospitality and sizing up his opportunity to burglarize the place.

In Jack’s experience, catching people off guard helped to foil them. No one was expecting him. And with his trained eye, he might note incriminating details other people missed.

Okay, he’d just invited himself to the party. With luck, Casey would be too polite to throw him out in front of her friends.

Jack’s shoes crunched on gravel as he headed for the porch. In the dusky light, he identified plenty of vantage points from which a stalker could watch figures moving behind the translucent curtains, although he saw no one lurking in the area at the moment. Still, with overgrown trees providing heavy cover, this place posed a security headache.

Another burst of laughter. All the voices sounded feminine. Could this be a Tupperware party? he wondered. That seemed like the kind of domestic thing Casey would go for.

Jack experienced a pang of nostalgia. He’d never lived in a house with cut flowers in vases until he got married. He’d never known a woman could smell so good, either, or what a difference it made when she put up curtains and even, to his amazement, baked her own bread. He’d more or less thought the stuff grew inside plastic bags.

As he mounted the steps, it occurred to him that the prowler wasn’t likely to be attending a Tupperware party. He also didn’t relish bursting into the middle of a ladies-only event.

He stopped. Better to double back to town. If he couldn’t find a decent restaurant, at least there must be a grocery store.

Inside, a female voice grew louder, calling her goodbyes. Before he could retreat, the door opened and the chatter of voices seemed to blow a maroon-haired young woman onto the porch.

Her gaze swept Jack’s tailored business suit and short, reddish-brown hair. “Now don’t tell me you’re that fellow who’s been sneaking around!” she announced loudly enough to be heard in the next county. “If you are, you can sneak around my house any time. I’m Mimi.”

She thrust out her hand. He shook it, too astonished by her remarks and overt friendliness to reply.

“Who’s out there?” A young woman with long dark hair joined the first one. “My gosh, Casey, there’s a hunk on your porch! Where’d you come from, mister? Don’t tell me! My dreams!”

Jack had never been greeted with quite this degree of welcome by strangers. Did these women talk this way to any man who showed up, or were they that desperate for male companionship?

“Let me see, Bonnie.” A large-boned woman with steely hair loomed in the doorway. “Well, if he’s the prowler, he’s making a fool out of me, because I figured it was my ex-husband. If you’ve come to sell us something, mister, better speak up before these ladies auction you off to the highest bidder.”

“Actually, I was looking for my wife,” Jack explained.

Mimi groaned. The other two stared at him. Suddenly he didn’t feel so welcome.

“You would have to be married,” said the one he thought was Bonnie. “Who’s your wife?”

“I think I can guess,” Mimi told her.

“What is going on out there on my porch?” It was Casey’s voice, at last. “Gail, I can’t see who—”

The guests parted to let her by. Shock registering on her face, she broke off in midsentence.

Jack felt a sweet familiar ache at the sight of his wife. Those bright blue eyes, those curving cheeks with a sprinkling of freckles. He wanted to cup Casey’s chin and kiss her, to run his fingers through the light-brown hair curling around her shoulders and pull her tightly against him.

There was something funny about her denim jumper, though. It didn’t fit her right, or had she gained weight? It was hard to tell at this angle, and he didn’t want to stare.

“Jack,” she said flatly. He couldn’t read her mood.

More faces appeared behind her, wearing various degrees of curiosity and, in a few cases, disapproval. “Do you want us to stick around, Casey?” someone asked, to which another woman answered, “Are you crazy? They’ve got plenty to talk about. Hand me my jacket, would you?”

The noise of the departing guests made conversation impossible. Jack eased inside and let his wife say her farewells while he tried to make sense of the decorations.

Pink ribbons and balloons shaped like babies. Bits of wrapping paper with infants on them, and open boxes revealing a folded playpen and a car seat. It couldn’t be anything else but a baby shower.

Whose baby?

He turned to survey his wife. She was hugging an older woman—hugging this person at arm’s length, because her stomach intervened.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d known how much Casey wanted a baby, but he’d never figured she’d try it alone. What had she done, gone to a clinic? She hadn’t mentioned another man—if she had, Jack would have finalized the divorce in a hurry—and surely she hadn’t jumped into bed with a guy just to get pregnant.

He kept thinking he must be imagining this. That he’d arrived at the wrong house, which happened to belong to a woman named Casey who was a dead ringer for his wife. Or that she’d held the party for a friend and he’d missed some new fashion that required wearing dresses that stuck out in front.

Jack sucked in a deep breath. What a mess. He’d flown all this way to help her, and he still planned to do that, but she’d obviously decided to rule him out of her life. She’d made this decision on her own, precluding any chance of reconciliation.

It felt like the time a suspect had whirled around and sprayed him with Mace. The agony had been so intense that, even though he knew it caused no permanent harm, he’d feared for a moment he couldn’t bear it.

The last of the women trailed out the door, casting inquisitive glances his way. Jack forced his features into the expressionless mask he’d perfected as a teenager, when he’d frequently moved to a new foster home and a new high school. Never show weakness. Never show any feeling at all, no matter how hard your gut screamed for relief.

At last Casey closed the door. When she swung around to face him, he got an unobstructed view of her abdomen in profile. If he’d had any lingering hope that he might be mistaken, the sight dispelled all doubt.

He tried not to focus on how full her breasts looked or how lustrous her skin had become. If anything, pregnancy made her more beautiful, but if he mentioned it, she’d never believe him. Defiance glinted in her gaze and he knew that if he weren’t careful, she’d give him a tongue-lashing.

He’d probably get one, anyway. She appeared to be in that kind of mood.

“I didn’t know,” he said.

“Obviously not.” Casey crossed her arms protectively. “I suppose I should have said something but you’d have thought I was trying to trap you.”

“Trap me?” He’d assumed it was the opposite. She’d clearly rejected him.

“Well, you didn’t want a baby.”

“That much we agree on.” Jack hoped she’d start making sense soon.

“I figured you might see it as a betrayal.” Her lips quivered, and she pressed them tightly together.

“How else could I see it?”

“As a…well, not a mistake.” She lifted her chin. “As a blessing.”

“Congratulations.” He surveyed the room filled with torn wrapping paper, balloons, toys and stuffed bears. “Looks like you’ve got everything you need.”

Despite his attempt to make conversation, she glared as if he’d just insulted her. “Is that all you have to say?”

He must have missed some clue, one of those feminine things that always eluded Jack. “Nice place,” he ventured.

Utter silence. Disbelief writ large on her face.

Too bad she didn’t appreciate his attempts at diplomacy. “So I guess you want to talk about it,” he ventured.

“About ‘it’?” Fury vibrated in her voice. Jack wished she didn’t look so sensuous, with her hair mussed and her eyes even larger than usual.

“The, uh, fact that you’re pregnant,” he managed to say.

Finally, a nod. “Some kind of reaction would be appropriate.”

How was a man supposed to respond when the woman he’d married did something to split them apart forever? He didn’t see how anything he could say would help, but he’d better try or Casey was going to lacerate him. “I guess I’m pleased for you.”

“Jack! I want to know how you feel!”

“How should I feel?”

“I don’t know! You tell me.”

He gave up searching for the right words. It was no use, anyway. “How do I feel? Like I got sucker punched. We aren’t even divorced yet and you went out and did this. I guess it’s none of my business whether you picked some clinic or some guy, even though technically you’re still my wife. How do I feel? Lousy. Ticked off. Like an idiot for flying here from California because I was worried about you and figured you needed a bodyguard. Okay? How’d I do?”

As he spoke, his legs carried him around the room like a tiger pacing its cage. All these fripperies and cutesypie decorations made him want to rip them down so he could breathe.

“Oh, my gosh.” Casey’s jaw dropped.

“‘Oh, my gosh’ what?” Jack demanded, annoyed at receiving a reaction he couldn’t interpret, although at least she wasn’t throwing things at him.

“You don’t get it,” she said wonderingly.

“Get what?” He wished he knew how his wife managed to speak what sounded like English without making one bit of sense.

“It’s yours,” Casey answered.

CHAPTER THREE

“My—?” Jack didn’t finish the question, because, finally, he did get it.

Last August, when his wife had showed up in L.A. to go over their settlement, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Although she’d felt the same way, the passion wasn’t enough to persuade her to stay.

“I thought you were on the pill,” he added numbly. The truth was, he hadn’t given any thought to a pregnancy, although he could see now that he should have.

“I’d just gone off it,” Casey said. “I didn’t think I could get pregnant yet. I was wrong.”

Having had plenty of experience with people who manipulated and lied, Jack knew she might have done it on purpose. But he didn’t believe that. For one thing, he respected Casey too much to think so poorly of her. Also, had her goal been to maneuver him into agreeing to start a family or to pressure him to pay child support, she wouldn’t have waited eight months for him to stumble onto the truth.

“You weren’t going to tell me?” he demanded, not so much from outrage as because he’d learned that asking questions was a good way to mask difficult emotions. And right now his emotions were about as confused as they’d ever been.

Casey clasped her hands in front. “I knew you didn’t want a baby and I never meant to force you.”

“Some things are hard to hide,” he pointed out. “Don’t you think I’d have learned the truth eventually?”

“In nearly three years, this is the first time you’ve come to Tennessee.” Restlessly, she began tossing the party detritus into a paper bag.

A woman in her condition shouldn’t have to clean up by herself. Guiltily, Jack realized Casey’s friends probably would have stayed to help if he hadn’t arrived.

He began collecting paper plates bearing the remains of cake and ice cream. The smell of food reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast except the beef jerky. Fortunately, he was used to missing meals.

“So when is it due?” He couldn’t say the words “the baby” yet. That made the whole thing seem too real.

“In a few weeks.”

“I’ll pay the doctor bills.” It was the least he could do.

“They’re taken care of.” Pulling down a banner, she stuffed it into her sack. “Around here, the doctor lets you pay on an installment plan.”

How typical of Casey to insist on handling everything herself. Jack wished she’d let him help. He knew better than to insist, though.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before she added, “You’re not mad?”

“I’m too buffaloed to be mad,” he admitted.

“Does that mean you might get angry after you’ve had time to absorb it?” she probed.

Seeking a reasonable response, he said, “I don’t suppose this is your fault any more than it is mine.”

Sadness and resignation mingled in her expression. “No,” Casey replied tiredly, “I don’t suppose it is.” Hauling her sack, she went into the kitchen. Jack suppressed the urge to carry it himself, because he could tell she wanted a few minutes alone.

He’d said the wrong thing again. Under his breath, he cursed his ineptness as he collected more wrappings.

The problem was, he had no idea what remark had set her off. He didn’t understand how she felt or how he felt, either. As for how to deal with Casey, he might as well have stepped out of an airplane to discover himself on an alien planet where a two-headed, gibberish-speaking native was expecting him to say and do the right things.

He didn’t know where to start.

* * *

I DON’T SUPPOSE this is your fault.

Well, there was an enthusiastic response, Casey reflected grumpily. She dropped the sack near the back door, since she didn’t feel up to carting it outside and wrestling with the heavy, locking trash can lid that kept animals at bay.

In spite of everything she knew about Jack, her heart had leaped at seeing him in the doorway. When he’d given her that baffled, little-boy look and run his fingers through his hair in consternation, she might have gathered him into her arms if the guests hadn’t been standing around.

And if her abdomen wouldn’t have gotten in the way.

What had she expected, that he’d take one look at her bulge and turn into an ecstatic daddy-to-be? Jack had made his position clear, so she shouldn’t be surprised that one glance at her advanced condition hadn’t changed his mind. But it was heartbreaking.

Anxious to keep busy, Casey began unloading the dishwasher Enid had run earlier. As she stowed cake pans and trays in the cabinets, she calmed at the memory of how much fun she’d had, playing silly games and eating too much at the party.

Her friends had been more than generous. She really appreciated the way they’d chipped in for a playpen and car seat, which meant a big savings to her budget. She made a mental note to begin writing thank-yous as soon as she found a spare moment.