The Baby's Bodyguard

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.

Why did Jack have to show up and make everyone go home early? Why did he have to make her heart beat faster and remind her of how much she missed him?

She wished seeing him didn’t have this effect. Also that he would at least pretend to be excited about the baby. Instead, he acted as if this were an irksome inconvenience, like a car that had broken down and couldn’t be fixed.

It would have been better if he hadn’t found out. They could have led their separate lives peacefully, as if they’d never met.

Oh, right. As if she could forget him when every time she looked at her daughter she was likely to see his eyes or his grin. Diane’s very existence reminded her of the unforgettable night when they’d created her.

Standing motionless on the linoleum, Casey forced herself to be honest. She’d longed for Jack to find out. She’d wanted him to grin and admit what a huge mistake he’d made by foolishly rejecting fatherhood. Then, no doubt, they could have strolled off into the sunset, pushing a baby carriage and feeding each other bonbons.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen. So he ought to leave, and the sooner the better.

Of course, she had to be practical if she wanted him to accept the heave-ho. He had come an awfully long way with good motives and, being a guy, he must want food, Casey reasoned.

Retrieving some of the finger sandwiches Enid had stored in the fridge, she tucked them and a cupcake inside a lunch bag. At least he couldn’t say she sent him away hungry.

Then she heard the one noise a woman never, ever expects to emanate from a room in which she has left an unaccompanied male.

He was running the vacuum cleaner.

Astonished, Casey went to watch. Not that she imagined sprites had sneaked in to do the cleanup, but some things had to be witnessed to be accepted.

The first thing she saw in the living room was Jack’s dark suit coat draped over a chair. The second was the tantalizing way his button-down shirt emphasized the contours of his chest as he navigated the vacuum around the table legs.

He stopped to move a chair aside and pick up a bit of ribbon that had fallen beneath it. The attention to detail tickled her. She’d always admired her husband’s thoroughness, although she’d never seen him vacuum a carpet before. Whatever he did, he did well.

A moment later, he switched off the machine. When the noise died, he glanced up sheepishly. “I thought I’d help.”

“Thank you.” Casey pointed to the lunch sack. “I packed some food for you to take to wherever you’re staying.”

“I appreciate the offer.” He wound the cord into place. “But I’m staying here.”

She decided to pretend she hadn’t heard. “There’s a motel about three miles away, just past Lake Avenue.” Casey saw no reason to mention that her parents used to manage it. She’d grown up on the premises before they bought the Pine Woods.

He replaced the vacuum in a closet. “The couch will suit me fine.”

“You don’t honestly believe…” She halted the flow of words, remembering why he’d come. “Maybe you should explain exactly what I can expect while you’re here.”

“How many choices do I have?”

“You get to do A: Catch the bad guy. Go on, give me your sales pitch. How do you plan to do it?”

One eyebrow quirked but he kept a straight face. “Assess weaknesses and recommend improvements. Interview witnesses. Implement safety procedures. Catch the creep by whatever means necessary. I guess that sums it up.”

It sounded as if it could take a while. She hoped the investigation wouldn’t take weeks. Hours would be better. Minutes, even. If she let herself get dependent on Jack, she would feel all the more hurt when he left. “What kind of time frame are we talking about?”

Jack assumed a commanding stance with legs apart and head cocked. “I can make my evaluation in a day or two, but I’d rather…”

“A day or two is an absolute maximum.”

He took a deep breath. Calming himself, probably. “Let’s concentrate on the facts. How often does he show up?”

“This is the fourth time in a month,” Casey said. “That works out to about once a week.”

“How many people have seen him?”

“Gail and me. And Enid, or at least she heard somebody rustling around in her bushes one night. Enid and Gail live in the two closest cabins.” After a moment’s thought, Casey added, “Our mailbox got damaged, too, about three weeks ago, but it looked like a car scraped it. It’s right by the road.”

He took a notepad from his pocket and scribbled on it. “Always at night?”

“So far.”

“Has anything been stolen?” He spoke with the impersonal tone of a police officer.

Casey shook her head. “Not that I know of.”