“No, the ironic thing is, all this has given me a completely different view of Helene. She was pretty innocent.”
“You can’t mean you blame your father.”
Shaking her head, Stacey felt the curls Cord loved flop into her face. “I don’t blame anyone.”
Lauren’s stiff posture relaxed. “What are you feeling?”
“About Daddy?” Lauren nodded. “I’m furious with him for not telling me about Cord’s connection with my mother right away. And I’m still in shock over what happened between Cord and my mother.”
“Stacey, from what you just told me, the facts remain the same. Your mother cheated on your father.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Stacey said, “But, Lauren, I grew up thinking she was a slut. In reality, she was a lonely young woman—not even thirty—who turned to another man for comfort. It happened only once. That changes things.”
“Do you think it was easy for your father?”
“Of course not. But even he admits he was wrong. He made mistakes.” She paused for a moment, then said, “You know what the saddest thing about this is?”
“What?”
“They really loved each other. They could have worked this out. He could have forgiven her, and they could have had a happy life together.”
Lauren frowned. Then she stood and crossed to the windows, and peered out thoughtfully. “It wasn’t meant to be, Stacey. Some things—they just happen outside of your control.” She turned and looked at her friend. “Are you going to punish your father for what happened to Helene?”
“No. He’s punished himself enough already. I don’t know, though, what our relationship can be like now.”
“Why?”
“Because he lied to me. I’m not sure I can forget that.”
“What about Cord?”
Stacey felt pain in every part of her body. “He’s out of my life after the stalker is caught. I could never trust him again.”
“Because he slept with your mother.”
“It’s more than that. It’s so awful—I can hardly even think about it—that he was close to her that way. But the worst part is that knowing his connection to my mother, he still made love to me. He still let me fall in love with him. He should have told me everything before this happened between us.”
“I wonder why he didn’t.’’
“It doesn’t matter. Both he and Daddy treated me like a child, and let me down.” She stared over at her friend. “You know, Lauren, you’re the only person, in my whole life, who has never let me down.”
She saw Lauren gulp, overcome with emotion. “Stacey, I-”
“No, don’t say anything. Just always be here for me. I don’t know what I’d do, now, if I lost that.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
* * *
THE MAN PLUCKED a toothpick from its holder as the hostess for the Center Street Coffee Shop took his money. Sticking the pick in his mouth, he glanced over her shoulder. Through the large, plate-glass window, he saw Cord McKay slouched against the building directly across the street. Even from a distance, he could see McKay’s stiff shoulders and the disgruntled tilt of his chin.
So, there’s trouble in paradise. Good. Horny men are easily distracted.
“Thank you, sir. Come back again.” The petite woman with the mousy brown hair gave him an insipid smile.
He nodded. Sir. I like that. Maybe I’ll have Stacey Webb call me that. On her knees.
Exiting the shop, he crossed the street against the light, dodging the cars. He resisted flipping the finger to the creeps who blared their horns. It was important not to give away too much.
Just a few stores down, he stopped. “McKay, I didn’t see you there.”
McKay’s stare was cold, and in spite of himself, he shivered. This was no man to fool with.
“Yeah, well, you better watch that jaywalking. The cops could get you.”
Both of them laughed at the joke, although it was a strained sound, especially from McKay.
Damn you, you bastard, for making me nervous. She’ll pay for your arrogance. And somehow, I’ll let you know that .
“So, what are you doin’ here?” He folded his arms over his dark shirt, and willed himself to relax.
Jamming his hands into his pockets, McKay jerked his head to the shop behind him. “Stacey’s in there.”
He peered up at the sign. Margaret’s Hair Studio. “She gettin’ her hair cut?”
A curt nod told him of McKay’s displeasure. Interesting.
“I kinda like it long, don’t you?” he said smoothly. He’d had visions of yanking it back. Hard. “But she’s always worn it short. That why she’s cuttin’ it?”
The other man shrugged. “Beats me.” McKay studied his face, as if he was looking for something. “Cut yourself shaving?” he asked, his eyes focusing on the small bandage that covered what was left of Stacey Webb’s scratches, when she’d clawed him through the ski mask.
“Naw. Scraped my cheek on some bushes I was trimmin’.”
McKay nodded.
Getting suspicious, McKay? Do you know?
“Having a bite to eat?” McKay indicated the coffee shop.
He shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve gotta be to work at ten.”
“On the late shift this week?”
Why the questions? What are you looking for? “Yep. We’re shorthanded, as usual.” Do you think it’s me? Are you checking out my schedule?
The possibility made the blood course through him. The adrenaline came fast and furious as he thought about it. He’d always liked a good game of cat and mouse.
Just then, the door opened. McKay turned to watch Stacey exit from the building. His jaw dropped. “Aw, Stacey,” he said, his eyes glued to her hair.
For a minute, her face paled. Then, she sucked in a breath and looked down her nose at him. “I take it you don’t like my new haircut.”
“Geez, did you have to get it cut so short?” McKay said.
She lifted her chin. “Yes, I did.”
Then she turned to him. She smiled, though it was weak, and didn’t reach her eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He pretended to inspect her hair. “I like it, Stacey.” Actually, it looked like hell. It was about two inches all over, and it had been sprayed so it spiked up in the front in that fancy hairdo he’d seen in magazines. What was the word they’d used in those old movies? When they punished women for adultery? Shorn, it looked shorn. Fitting, he thought. Now she’d look the part when he gave her the punishment she deserved.
When he thought of how she’d escaped him five days ago, the rage threatened to erupt right here on Center Street. But he’d lost his chance because he’d gotten angry then. So he had to control himself now. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. This time, he was staying calm and cool. He’d comforted himself all week with visions of her on her knees, her hands tied behind her back as he sliced her. She’d be crying, and begging. Ah, he loved it when women begged. He was really looking forward to Stacey Webb’s pleas. It made everything so much sweeter. And it would be soon. Very soon. The thought gave him a hard-on.
“Hey, are you okay?” McKay asked.
He turned to look at the lovesick sap. “Huh?”
“Stacey asked you what you were doing here. You didn’t answer. Are you all right?”
“I’m good.” Oh, I’m really good. He glanced down at his boot, his fingers itching to caress the sleek metal hidden there. I’m very good.
And it wouldn’t be too long before Stacey Webb found out.
* * *
GIFFORD INSISTED THEY celebrate Megan’s birthday at his home. It was early August, and Cord was sitting on the pool deck when Nora and his daughter arrived. Megan catapulted onto his lap and hugged him fiercely. Over her shoulders, Cord watched Stacey walk through the French doors. Megan tracked his gaze, then clambered down and made a running leap into Stacey’s arms. “Stacey, what happened to your hair?”
Yeah, what happened?
But Cor
d knew. Just as he knew why she’d stopped sketching. As he watched the woman he loved scoop up his daughter and nuzzle her neck, his whole body tightened. He remembered what her mouth felt like in the crook of his own neck; he remembered how she’d sucked him there, leaving red marks that testified to their lovemaking.
He hadn’t touched her in five days, and he was going through withdrawal. Every muscle tensed when she came near. His skin itched when she accidentally brushed against him. His heart pumped faster each time he smelled her baby-powder scent.
Megan turned in Stacey’s arms to look at him. “Daddy, do you like Stacey’s hair?”
“It’s okay,” he said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. Actually, it looked a hell of a lot better today than last night when she’d gotten it butchered. Washed and dried, it fell in waves all around her head. Though still too short for his taste, it looked feminine and silky, instead of slick and sophisticated.
“Can I get mine cut like yours?” Megan asked.
Stacey gripped Megan tightly, her face pinched. “No, honey, don’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Yeah, Stacey, why?” Cord said.
Biting her lip, she said, “Because I like braiding your hair.”
A searing cold gripped Cord. What would Megan do when Stacey was out of their lives? He hadn’t planned on his daughter getting so attached to her. Damn, another mistake.
Gifford and Lauren emerged from the house carrying several brightly wrapped packages.
Her little arms gripping Stacey’s neck, Megan looked over her shoulder. “What are those?”
“Those? Oh, I don’t know. Dad?” Stacey said to Gifford. “What are those?”
Gifford added his packages to the pile of presents stacked on and around a glass umbrella table. “I’m not sure. Is today somebody’s birthday?”
Megan’s eyes grew into big blue pools. “It’s mine. But I already had my party today, and got lots of presents. Am I getting more?”
“You sure are,” Gifford said, gazing tenderly at the child.
“Daddy couldn’t be at my party,” Megan told them, her face scrunching into a frown.
For the first time in a week, Stacey looked at Cord with warmth. “I know, Megan. I’m sorry.”
Cord stood and crossed the short distance to them. Megan turned and reached out to him. As he took the little girl from Stacey, his arm accidentally brushed Stacey’s breast. She sucked in her breath and he stiffened.
Cord cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, then kissed the top of Megan’s head. “This way, you get to have two parties.”
Nora McKay came up behind them. “Your daddy spoils you, peanut.”
“He told me that’s what daddies are for,” Megan said, pointing to Gifford.
The stricken look on Gifford’s face told Cord that he and Stacey were still having a rough time. They’d been dancing around each other all week, trying to forge a new relationship. It was painful to watch.
But at least Gifford had a chance with Stacey.
Cord had none.
Gifford broke the tension. “Hot dogs are ready. Let’s eat first.”
Megan smiled. “Hot dogs are my favorite.”
“I know.” Gifford winked at the little girl. “They were Stacey’s favorite, too.”
Pain darkened Stacey’s eyes to the color of midnight, but she captured her father’s gaze. “I remember how you used to cut them up for me in strips so I wouldn’t choke.”
“I was terrified that something would happen to you,” Gifford said, then blanched. “Too terrified, I guess.”
Reaching out, Stacey squeezed his arm. “No, Dad. It’s a good memory. I have lots of them.”
Cord turned away. It was too hard to see Stacey’s generosity, when he knew he’d never be the recipient of it again.
After hot dogs, Megan opted for the presents. “I’ll save Daddy’s for last,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
“Daddy’s?” He smacked his forehead with his palm. “Was I supposed to get you a present?”
Megan ran to him, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. Behind the child, he saw moisture gather in Stacey’s eyes. He held her gaze. If she was going to kick them out of her life, let her see what she was losing. If nothing else, he knew he was a good father.
The presents took a while. A huge stuffed giraffe from Lauren, who, as always, sat on the sidelines and said little. A package of beads from Nora for Megan to make her own necklaces.
The birthday girl picked up Gifford’s package next and ripped it open. Stacey’s smile faded as she saw art supplies—charcoal, crayons, paints, chalk, ink, markers, and reams of different size and shape paper. “The big one goes with it,” Gifford told her. Megan hurtled to the stand-up gift and tore off the paper: it was an easel, taller than she was.
Her eyes round saucers, Megan said, “Wow. Thank you, Mr. Webb.” Impulsively, Megan gave him a hug. Gifford held her tightly. Cord watched Stacey’s eyes shine at her father. He had to look away again. He shifted his gaze and caught Lauren staring at the tableau: her eyes were narrowed as she gripped the edge of the lawn chair with her un-casted hand.
“Open mine next,” he heard Stacey say. He looked back to see his daughter tear off the paper on a huge box, carefully wrapped in pink and silver foil. Slowly, Megan lifted the gift out. A watermelon-colored rain slicker. Then a deep purple bodysuit. A neon yellow miniskirt. Cord watched, a lump in his throat, as Megan fussed over each article of clothing.
But there was no lavender mini-dress among them.
Megan went to Stacey and gave her a big, sloppy kiss; Stacey’s eyes closed as she whispered something to Megan. In his gut, Cord knew they were the three words she’d never say to him again. Kicking him in the groin couldn’t have hurt more.
Megan finally got around to opening the first of his presents. Excited, she fumbled with the paper as she unwrapped the pair of earrings. She flung herself at Cord and locked her arms around his neck.
Returning the hug, he said, “There’s still a big one for you to open, honey.”
Megan disentangled herself and returned to the gifts. She squealed with delight as she ripped off enough paper to see the shiny pink bike with small training wheels on the back. “Daddy, you got me a two-wheeler.”
“Well, it’s not quite a two-wheeler yet.”
“It will be, soon. Stacey said she’d help me learn. Didn’t you, Stacey?”
But she won’t be around to do it . Her stricken look told Cord she was thinking the same thing.
After cake and ice cream, Gifford stood and checked his watch. “Well, I hate to leave this gathering, but I’ve got to catch my plane.” He turned to Stacey. “I could still cancel this trip if you think...” His voice trailed off.
Stacey smiled at him. “No, Dad, go.”
Gifford’s face fell.
Stacey rose and slipped an arm around his waist. “But I’ll help you with your stuff.”
Lauren came off the chair. “Do you still have time to drop me off, Gifford?”
“Sure, Lauren, if you’re sure you want to go home.”
Stacey protested. “Lauren, I don’t think...”
“Stacey, we’ve been through this,” Lauren said. “I can’t stay here forever. I need to start taking care of myself. My arm is much better.” She turned to Gifford and beamed him a smile. “I’ll be right down.”
The rest of the party broke up about nine. By then, Megan was practically asleep in Cord’s arms. Stacey walked with them to the car, where Nora was waiting.
Just as he was about to put Megan in the back, she reached out her arms to Stacey. Stacey took the little girl, and cuddled her.
“Wanna know what I wished when I blew out my candles?” Megan said sleepily.
Stacey smiled. “Sure.”
“For you to be my mother.”
Cord, Nora and Stacey froze. Discreetly, Nora circled the car and got behind the wheel. Stacey hugged Megan, kissed her hair and handed her to Cord
. Guiltily, he took his child, but couldn’t meet Stacey’s eyes.
In a pregnant silence, Cord and Stacey watched Nora and Megan drive away. Unable to bear the constricting band of tension around her heart, Stacey turned to the house and walked through the front door. Behind her, Cord clicked the locks and set the alarm. Having already secured the back of the house, he quietly followed her up the stairs.
She entered her room and so did he. Without speaking, he checked all the windows and disappeared into the sitting room. She heard the rattle of the back door as he checked that, too. Always the bodyguard. He was so good at his work. Almost as good as he was at lovemaking. Stop it, Stacey. Don’t think about him that way.
Her thoughts flew to Megan. That hurt almost as much. God, she loved the little girl. To have lost them both was intolerable. She crossed to the mirror and looked at herself. The woman who stared back at her was a stranger. She liked the soft curls—but not as much as the longer style she’d told Margaret to clip off. Because Cord liked it too much. Because it symbolized too much.
From the silence in the other room, she figured Cord had gone to bed. It was just as well. She was so raw she wasn’t sure what she’d say, what she’d do, if he came back. Five days avoiding even his slightest touch had her craving him the way a junkie craves drugs.
She got ready for bed like a robot. Everything reminded her of Cord—the red satin underwear that slid off her skin, the fluffy green comforter on the bed that he’d once wrapped around her, even the mirror where, one night, he’d undressed her, pointing out his favorite body parts and exploring each one.
Clothed in an eyelet nightgown, she stepped toward the bed. Visions of them entwined there—him on top of her, him thrusting into her, him whispering he loved her—made her shrink back. She couldn’t sleep in that bed tonight. She just couldn’t. And the sitting room, where he’d slept was definitely off limits.
She glanced at the door. No, she wouldn’t go anywhere else. She was still mindful of her safety. Her gaze settled on the green chaise nestled by the front windows. Crossing to it, she sank down, stretched out flat on her back and pulled the end pillows under her head.
Bodyguards Boxed Set Page 41
