Heat rushed to Jill's head like a freight train. She'd been fantasizing about exactly that since the moment she'd laid eyes on Troy. But was this a proposal, or did he simply think she would do anything he wanted because she'd let him kiss her on the beach. "Don't you think you're going pretty fast--"
"Cool," Annie interrupted. "I could teach her water ballet."
"Now just a--"
Troy smiled at her. "You really do a good job with Annie, Jill. I know there's some sort of instinct that makes women better at these things than men. And--"
Jill held up one hand. "Just a minute. Don't I get any say in all of this?"
"Of course." Troy looked surprised, as if he'd assumed she would jump on whatever he was suggesting. Maybe she was dense. Still, back before she'd taken over her dad's business, she'd occasionally taken the time to fantasize through marriage proposals. And while they often involved drop-dead handsome men like Troy, they'd always centered on rings and statements of eternal love. Statements about maternal instincts had never entered into her fantasy. She didn't think she'd start now.
"I'm not going to marry you, Troy."
If she'd told him she was the Ayatollah of Iran, he couldn't have looked more surprised. "What are you talking about?"
"I, well, uh." She took a deep breath and started again doing her best to sound angry rather than like someone who had just gotten socked in the stomach. "You start talking to a girl about moving in with you and what is she supposed to think?"
He opened his mouth, then shut it before finally finding the ability to speak. "Not marriage, Jill. Lord knows I've done that and it didn't work. But think about it. Your insurance company isn't going to cover you until they've had a chance to look into what happened to my house. So you're out a job. I thought I'd hire you to help with Annie. After all," he gestured at her trailer, "it isn't as if you're living in the lap of luxury here."
So much for her fantasies. Troy didn't see her as a wife, he saw her as a servant.
"I've got enough."
He looked around. "Could have fooled me."
"You were happy enough to stay here last night." She knew that was unfair since she’d practically insisted. Still, he had kissed her at the beach.
Troy shook his head. "Somehow we got off in the wrong direction here. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with living in a trailer if that's what you have to do. I spent half my life sleeping under the stars in foreign battlefields. I don't pretend that it's the most comfortable way to live, though."
"Could you really come and live with us?" Annie asked. Her eyes shone with hope. "I promise to be extra nice." She took a deep breath, then licked her lips. "Really. I won't run away again. I’ll try to be better, all the time."
Jill sunk to her knees and wrapped her arms around the little girl. "Honey, I like you just the way you are." To her surprise, she meant it. Annie was a long way from the saccharine children that litter made-for-TV movies: she was her own person. Now that she was getting to know Troy, Jill figured that keeping even a vestige of personality in the face of his overwhelming presence would be a battle.
"You could make this really easy," Troy offered. "Also, I happen to know a little about demolition. I could get your operation going again." He reached for the blueprints she'd been studying when he had arrived.
She snatched them from his hands and stomped into her bedroom, leaving them on her wardrobe.
"What?" he called after her. "I think we've got a win-win here. Good for you, good for Annie. It would even be good for me to sink my energies into something. I'm starting to feel like I'm not really cut out to be Mr. Mom.
"I could have told you that," Jill muttered.
"Are you talking to me?"
"I don't need any help with my business."
Troy stepped into the doorway, filling it, and her entire trailer, with his presence. "But I'd be happy to help. It seems like poetic justice that I use the tools of war and destruction to help build things here at home."
"My father took a partner once. By the time that man was finished with him, my father was left with nothing."
Troy shrugged. "Give him a call. I could probably use his help."
"We could all use his help?" Jill tried to school her voice. Annie didn't need to see them argue. Like all children, Annie would probably see herself as the cause when adults fought. "He's an angel now."
"Sorry."
"Troy's parents are dead too," Annie said. "They got killed in by terrorists somewhere. And my mommy is dead."
Troy put his finger to his lips. "I don't think Jill wants to hear about that now, honey."
Chapter 7
After the cops had thoroughly grilled all three of them, they finally left. By then, it was so late Jill didn't have the heart to make Troy and Annie go back to the hotel—despite her anger. So they resumed their previous night's sleeping arrangements.
Still, tired as she was, Jill had trouble going to sleep. A combination of sexual frustration and anger kept her awake most of the night. She'd barely fallen into a troubled doze when the phone gave its cheerful chirp.
"Jill Villars," she muttered doing her best to rub the sleep out of her eyes.
"Ms. Villars? This is Mr. Santori."
She didn't recognize the voice at the other end. Probably another detective, she decided from the officious tone.
"Do you need to speak to Mr. Garrett again?"
"No, it's you I'm after," Santori said. "We're proceeding with the investigation. Obviously we'll have to temporarily suspend your policy. Once we've been able to sort through what really happened, I'm certain it will be reinstated."
"Huh? Who is this?" The transition was too fast for her sleep-deprived brain to cope with.
"This is Ms. Villars, isn't it?"
"Tell them we don't want any, darling," Troy's deep voice boomed from her living room, apparently trying to give her an easy out from an annoying sales call. "I've got breakfast just about ready."
It figured that Troy would be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning while she was having trouble keeping her eyes propped open.
Why was he calling her darling? Memories of Troy's offer, and of her embarrassing leap to the assumption he was proposing, rocketed back. Obviously he'd been right about her insurance company. This had to be them on the other end of the phone, and pretty clearly they'd awakened to what had happened.
"Are you still there, Ms. Villars?"
"I'm here. Are you telling me I can't work on my project?"
"I'm telling you your coverage has been suspended," Santori explained. "What this means in the context of your current projects is something you'll have to take up with your local zoning board."
"That'll take weeks."
"I'm sure your policy review will be completed in no time." Santori's tone indicated that he wasn't sure at all.
"What am I supposed to tell my customer?"
"That's entirely up to you, Ms. Villars. Perhaps you should suggest that he take a good look at your neighbor's property. If he does that, I'm sure he won't mind a small delay in his swimming pool."
"That's the most outrageous--"
"If you don't have any other questions, I have other calls to make," Santori told her.
His tone let her know how much he cared about her questions. How much had she paid for that insurance over the months she'd been in business? Back then, when the money was all coming from her, they'd treated her like a valued customer. Now, when they might have to make a payout, she was scum.
If Santori had any influence in the Great Risk Assurance Company, Jill figured she would wait a long time before her insurance was reinstated no matter what anyone found about responsibility.
"Eggs are just about finished," Troy called from the kitchen. "Annie, wash up. Jill, you can come to the table however you want."
"I need this job," Jill insisted to the unsympathetic Santori.
"Perhaps you can subcontract to someone who is a valid insurance risk," Santori said,
his tone patronizing.
"Right. And end up with all of the costs and half the revenue."
"Of course that is a business decision you'll have to make." The click from the other end of the line indicated that Santori, at least, thought the conversation was over.
"What's wrong, Jill?" Annie, her new best friend, greeted her as she stumbled into the kitchenette. She'd be damned if she'd put on makeup and get dressed this early in the morning, even for Troy.
"Coffee," she growled.
"Coming up." Troy handed her a steaming mug. One of the fancy mugs she kept for special occasions, she observed. Well, it wasn't every day she had a man spend the night, even if he didn't spend it in her bed. She supposed this would have to count as a special occasion.
"Cream, no sugar?" he asked.
"You remembered." It wasn't a huge gesture but she'd dated her ex-boyfriend for almost a year before she'd realized he didn't even know what color her eyes were.
"What color eyes do I have?" She squeezed them shut.
"Hum. A little red and bleary, I thought."
"Very funny. What color?" If he couldn't remember, she'd forget this fantasy faster than Santori cut off her insurance.
"Hazel. Five-six, one-seventeen. Seven-A. Thirty-six C. Natural blonde," he added almost suggestively. "I don't do glove sizes. Anything else?"
She shook her head, her cheeks burning. "Uh, no." Good heavens. He'd been a right on every count except her weight, and there he'd been darn close.
"I've got some cinnamon buns in the oven. In the meantime, why don't you get started with this?"
He handed her a plate full of eggs with something white on the side.
"What the heck is this?"
"Don't you know what grits are?" Annie demanded. "You'll like them."
They looked more like a construction material than something she wanted in her mouth, but she reluctantly stuck a fork in the sticky mass and took a taste.
"Yuck." It stuck to the top of her mouth like peanut butter without the flavor.
"You're kidding?" Father and daughter stared at her in amazement.
"Do people actually eat this stuff?"
"Grits are considered a great delicacy in Texas," Troy explained.
"I thought you were from New York."
Troy shrugged. "Annie's mother moved up there when her modeling career took off. Otherwise I spent as little time in that city as I could. Too dangerous."
Jill giggled. She'd seen Troy face what could have been dangerous situations. He certainly didn't run. "So you're from Texas."
"Yes, ma'am." He turned on a drawl.
"Great. I spent the night with Cowboy Sam."
"That's Cowboy Troy to you," Troy countered. "And if we had really spent the night together, trust me, I'd remember it. Oh, your birthdate. December second, nineteen--"
"Never mind. In the future, I'll leave the grits for an emergency mortar supply."
"Can I have them if you don't want them?" Annie held out a completely cleaned plate.
"I thought you were a fussy eater."
Annie shook her head vigorously. "I'm really easy to deal with. Most of the time, I'll eat just about anything. And I go to bed at night without any trouble."
This was sounding more and more like an advertising campaign. "Your dad is cooking and you're being icky-sweet. What's going on here?"
Troy draped his arm around her shoulder sending little shivers through her body. "We both know we're imposing and we appreciate you putting up with us."
"Like I could really throw you out last night. It was almost three by the time the police got out of here."
"May I have a cinnamon bun now please, Troy?" Annie asked.
Troy opened the oven releasing the scent of cinnamon, cloves, and sweet dough. "Eat up. There's lots more."
There was a lot. So much, in fact, that Jill wondered where it had all come from. It was barely possible that she had one of those frozen sticks of slice-and-cook dough in the refrigerator. She certainly didn't have enough to make the two pans of pastry she saw in her oven. In fact, she didn't think she owned the two pans. "Where did all of this food come from?"
"Troy and I went shopping while you were still sleeping." Annie giggled at the idea of a grown-up still asleep after the sun had actually cleared the horizon.
"And you just happen to be a gourmet cook?"
Troy glanced at the scattered bowls and cooking utensils. "I'd hardly call this gourmet. In the military, you learn to cook enough to get by or you go hungry. I don't like to go hungry when there's another choice."
Jill scooped her grits onto Annie's waiting plate and took a cautious taste of the eggs. "Hey, these are good."
Troy gave her a mocking half-bow. "No grits, likes eggs. Maybe you really aren't that complicated after all."
Out of the corner of her eye Jill watched Annie scarf down the grits. She wasn't acting. She actually liked that stuff. Her mother couldn't have eaten too many with the figure she had.
"Who was that on the phone?" Troy asked.
Cold dread tied a knot in the bottom of her stomach. Troy had predicted she would lose her insurance. Maybe he'd followed through with a suggestion to the Great Risk Assurance Company. He'd certainly snooped into her life enough. Even if he had been three pounds off with her weight.
"Just a friend," she lied.
"Oh? Not a very good friend from what I overheard. You sounded worried." Troy turned back to the stove and removed the last frying pan full of bacon.
Jill took a deep breath. She'd always thought of herself as a straightforward person and she wasn't about to start lying and sneaking around now. "It wasn't a friend, it was my insurance company. Turns out you were right. They want to suspend my insurance."
He nodded his head slowly. "No one is more rigid than an insurance company faced with a claim. I didn't have to deal with them in my former line of work--one of the few benefits. Nothing I did was insurable."
"But you managed to guess what Great Risk would do." Jill seized Troy's arm and squeezed it: it felt like squeezing a steel pipe. "Did you suggest to them that canceling my policy might be a good idea? Tell me the truth."
He slowly disengaged his arm. Troy's eyes turned as cold and bleak as the Pacific had felt yesterday. "I suppose a man with my background is naturally suspect. If I could be a mercenary, I suppose I could be guilty of just about anything."
Jill wiped a sleeve across her eyes. She wouldn't let Troy see her cry. "I am suspicious enough to notice you didn't answer my question. Did you sabotage my business? I need to know."
***
Troy used Jill's tongs to remove the last batch of bacon from her frying pan and wiped out the grease with a wad of paper towels. He'd been an idiot to think Jill would be different from any other woman. His career hadn't been especially respectable, but he'd never been a backstabbing, title-grubbing, pencil-pushing slimebag either. "I have not spoken with your insurance company. Even if I had, I would never have suggested suspending your insurance."
He looked at the six strips of bacon, put two on Annie's plate, two on Jill's, and stuck the remaining ones inside a biscuit. "Come on kid. We're out of here."
"I want to finish my breakfast." Annie looked up from her plate.
Troy tried not to smile but couldn't help it. Annie had been eating as if there might be no tomorrow. Whatever didn't exactly make it into her mouth stuck in its general vicinity.
He grabbed another paper towel, wet it in Jill's sink, and wiped off his daughter's mouth. "I'll take you someplace nice."
"I like it here."
He'd been getting comfortable here as well despite the lumpy sofa cut too short for his six-foot-two frame. Any though of comfort had disappeared when he found out exactly what Jill thought of him.
"Look, I'm sorry if I offended you." Jill's fists pressed into her hips and she looked like she might just attack him. Her stance somehow emphasized the swell of her breasts and the flare of her hips. Damn.
"You
've got to admit it sounded like a reasonable possibility," Jill continued. "I didn't accuse you of anything. I just asked a simple question."
"A question that let me know exactly where I stand," Troy replied. He handed Annie a piece of aluminum foil. "Annie, if you want breakfast that bad, wrap it up."
Annie ignored the foil and his suggestion, and instead trotted along beside him as he gathered up their belongings. "I don't think Jill meant to hurt your feelings," she said. Her lips trembled and a tear glistened in each of her big green eyes, eyes that knew too much for such a little girl.
Troy knelt in front of her, lowering his eye level to match Annie's. He placed his hands on her shoulders fighting the urge to give her the hug he knew she didn't want. At least, she didn't want it from him.
"I know you like Jill, honey," he started. "You know I tried to work something out so she could be a part of your life."
"You didn't really call her insulation company, did you?"
"Insurance? Of course not."
"You called the police on me."
"Is that what it seemed like to you? That I called the police to punish you?"
Annie nodded slowly. "I heard the radio on the bus. It said all the bus drivers were supposed to look for me."
"I was worried about you. By calling the police, I got a whole lot more people searching. How did you manage to make it all the way here without anyone noticing you?"
Annie giggled. "I asked a man to read me Jill's address from one of the papers I took. Then I called the bus company and they told me what buses to take. Then I waited until a mom with a couple of kids got on and I sort of tagged along. It was fun. This girl, Heather, had a bunch of dolls and we played with them until it was time to change buses. Do you think we could call her?"
"Did you get her phone number?"
Annie looked at him like he was losing his mind. "You know I can't write. How could I get her phone number?"
He shook his head. "Honey, you seem to be able to do just about everything."
"I can't do everything. I can't do anything I want to do. I'm just a kid." For the first time in Troy's life, Annie threw her arms around him. Huge sobs wracked her tiny body.
Dynamiting Daddy's Dream House Page 8
