“Mallory’s first loyalty will likely be to Jason’s father. She clearly had sympathy for him and appears to hold him in high regard.”
“You’re basing that on what?” she asked. The side of his clean-shaven face told her very little, except that he wasn’t smiling.
“The warmth in her voice as she mentioned him, for one.”
“You think she has a thing for him?” She hadn’t gotten that impression at all.
“No. She just seemed...fond of them as clients and might try to protect them.”
“You think she’ll tell him?”
“I think it’s a possibility you should consider.”
“And by the time I convince her I’m right, Mark will be gone...with Jackson.”
She knew what his shrug meant that time.
“I see the risk, I just wish we could tell her.” She turned back to the beans.
“Then let’s find something convincing enough to allow us to do that.”
Tabitha’s heart gave a lurch at the supportive tone in his voice. She looked at him, needing him more than ever. Needing him to know that.
And to need her, too.
He was busy chopping meat.
* * *
Like Tabitha, Johnny didn’t feel good about putting in Chrissy’s application. Tabitha had spent her fifteen-minute break going over the forms she’d filled out sometime between leaving him the night before and them leaving that morning because they’d been waiting for her down at the front desk where she’d emailed them for printing. Forms she’d filled out, even though she’d wanted to forego the Chrissy route and tell Mallory Harris the truth.
Hoping to enlist the daycare owner’s help.
Ethically and legally, helping them out could be a disaster for the Harris woman. Unless she had a lawyer watching her every move, protecting her against misadventure.
Tabitha reached above his head for a package of napkins early Tuesday evening, putting her breasts directly in his line of vision. Close enough that if he leaned forward and moved to the side, he could touch one with his lips.
Instantly engorged, Johnny moved, all right, directly forward, tucking the bulging evidence of his inappropriate erection under the prep board.
What the hell! She’d been reaching for napkins for months. In the same purple shirts.
So what was this about? Boredom with the task at hand? He’d never been passionate about the food truck business, but he’d been determined to see Angel’s dream through to fruition. He owed her that.
“I think we should hold off on Chrissy’s application,” he blurted, spraying and wiping the prep board. Tabitha, now back at the closed serving window, filled the napkin dispenser she’d set on the ledge for when they opened the next day.
He’d been reviewing her idea to tell Mallory Harris the truth and actually given it serious consideration. The kind he’d give if he was at work, doing the job he’d been trained to do.
A distraction from getting the hots for his life-quest partner?
For whatever reason, this time, this place, this daycare, seemed different from all the rest. Tabitha felt strongly enough about engaging the Harris woman’s help, being honest with her from the beginning, that she’d asked him for advice. Thoughtful, professional advice.
He really wanted to provide it.
A pile of napkins in hand, she held them above the open dispenser, watching him.
“What?” he asked. The concern creasing her brow, shadowing those golden-green eyes, struck his gut.
“You don’t want to apply with me?”
Had he said that? And why did kissing those lips seem like such a good move at the moment? It was wrong.
All wrong.
Pulling himself back to their current conversation, he said, “I think I’ve come up with a way to tell Mallory Harris the truth.”
Her brow cleared. Good.
“You think we can get her to help us rather than telling Mark we’re here?”
He nodded.
You don’t want to apply with me?
He hadn’t skipped past those words as easily as she had.
Finished with the napkins, she closed the dispenser and turned to him, eyes wide open. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”
You don’t want to apply with me?
“Why would you think I don’t want to apply with you?”
A direct, personal question. She should turn away. Or he should. She held his gaze. So he held hers, too. Waiting to see what would happen.
“It’s...a step we’ve never had to take before,” she said, her voice more hesitant than he was used to. Did the fact that he liked hearing more than her surface tone make him some kind of jerk?
“But it’s always been part of the plan,” he started. What had changed? Was he sending out bad vibes? Did she somehow sense that he was lusting after her, all of a sudden?
“Talking and doing are different sometimes,” she said, giving him her full attention. It would be rude of him to spray and wipe.
“We’re putting lies down on paper,” she continued. “And I know how you are about paper trails. If it’s written down, you want it to be accurate enough to stand up in court.”
He couldn’t help the grin that broke out on his face, feeling like he’d dodged a bullet.
“The application itself wouldn’t get us into trouble,” he told her. “Presenting an actual child under false pretenses, or taking part in daycare activities with other children under false pretenses, that could do it. But the information we put down here, on this initial application, isn’t about our imaginary Chrissy. It’s about us, and as far as it goes, it’s accurate. It says we run a food truck. We do. It gives the kitchen as a contact address, for the next month, it is. It doesn’t say you’re not a nurse, or I’m not a lawyer, it just doesn’t say we are. And, for now, this week, we’re a couple. We don’t put on here that we’re married. Your reference, your friend at the hospital, is legitimate, and my reference is, too.”
She nodded. “They might call your parents...”
He was ahead of her. “I called them myself and warned them that if they got any calls to please cooperate.”
“You told them about me?” Her question ended on a high note. As if she was shocked.
But glad?
“No. I just told them I was involved with helping out a family...”
She nodded. Disappointed? Relieved?
Did it matter?
“It just felt...like I was doing you a disservice, naming you as the father of my child.”
He grew hard again. He felt like a creep as he stayed close to the prep board.
“Your imaginary child,” he reminded them both. And then, for reasons completely unknown to him, said, “But being the father of your child would be an honor...”
What?
“For any man worth his salt,” he quickly added.
She studied him for a second while he held his breath and thought about checking himself in to some mental facility. Then she smiled. A perfectly normal Tabitha-and-Johnny-life-quest-partners smile.
“But we can look at all the options—including an honest conversation with Mallory.”
Her huge smile made him feel as if he’d survived a game of Russian roulette.
Chapter Five
Feeling closer to Johnny than she’d ever felt before, Tabitha stood outside the food truck, watching him lock it up for the night. His back was to her, so his shoulders were there for the staring, and stare she did. By what streak of luck he’d moved in next door to her, she didn’t know, but she’d never cease being grateful for his presence in her life.
She’d asked again about his plan to talk to Mallory. He’d suggested they discuss it over dinner. For the moment, her world felt right.
Not happy—not without Jackson—but...close.
Because Jackson wasn’t far away. But also because of Johnny.
“I thought maybe we could get some dinner at one of the restaurants on the beach,” he told her. “We can find someplace with a patio. It’s warm enough to eat outside.”
As usual with his suggestions, she was game. And wasn’t surprised when it took him less than twenty minutes to find the perfect spot not far from their hotel. He suggested they park at the hotel and walk to dinner, and that sounded great to her, too.
Still dressed in their jeans and Angel’s Food Bowl shirts, they fit right in with the casual crowd as they took their seats on a beach-level patio a short distance from the ocean.
Though the barbeque place drew mostly families, the patio seemed to attract couples. Leaning into each other. Holding hands. The two women on the left doing both as they lifted their wineglasses in a toast.
Maybe newly married?
Focusing her attention on the menu she’d pulled from between the cowboy-boot-shaped salt and pepper shakers, Tabitha tried not to think about how she and Johnny might appear to the other diners around them—if any of them even noticed.
Or to the waitress who stopped by for their drink orders and wasn’t the least bit flirtatious, in spite of how inarguably gorgeous Johnny was. As though she respected that he was Tabitha’s man.
“You want to share a pitcher of beer?” he asked her, and she nodded—while she flushed at the idea of Johnny as her man.
Would she ever marry? She’d always thought so. Especially after her mother had died, leaving her virtually alone in the world. But now...
With Jackson...
She’d been raised by a single parent. Her father had died in Desert Storm before having a chance to marry her mother. Her grandmother, too, had been widowed young.
Maybe it was a thing in their family, a history that bred strong women who stood alone. That could explain why she’d felt so cramped when Mark had gotten so needy. So possessive. He’d have married her in a heartbeat. And her heart just hadn’t beat faster for him.
Putting down the menu he’d been studying, Johnny dropped his hands on top of it and looked at her.
“What are you having?”
The question was familiar. Casual. Asked dozens of other times, in other eateries, as they’d traveled around the southern half of the state. No reason for it to seem so...intimate now.
Or to start caring about how they appeared to others.
He’d told his parents he was helping a family.
Which she and Jackson were. A family.
So why had she hoped, for a second there, that he’d mentioned her, in particular?
His parents’ good opinion wasn’t anything she’d craved, certainly not before now. She’d love to meet them, but only to know Johnny better, because they were such a huge part of his life.
And maybe she wanted them to like her for the same reason.
While she continued to stare at her menu, he was still waiting for her dinner choice.
She knew better than to think she could be part of his life forever. She didn’t even want to be. Not the life he was going to return to.
If she hoped now and then, or imagined what it would be like if he opted to stay in his little house rather than move back to wherever he really lived, that was strictly her own business. A fantasy she quickly turned away from.
She’d looked him up on the internet once. There hadn’t been much about him, not that she’d found at a glance, but she’d seen that his father was powerful enough to be lunching with senators.
“Did you decide?” When his question came again, she realized she hadn’t answered him yet.
“I know you aren’t dating during your sabbatical,” she said when she looked up at him, although she’d meant to say, “Steak salad.”
He nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “Doesn’t seem like I’d be honoring my wife if I started a relationship with someone else.”
She leaned toward him, then realized how that might look. Still, she didn’t want to be overheard. He glanced out toward the ocean, brought his gaze back to her and then sat back, an easy smile on his face. “You can’t decide what you want to eat?”
“Steak salad,” she told him, dismissing the comment she’d been about to share with him. It was their way. If one backed off, the other followed.
It was how they worked.
“Why did you mention my lack of dating?” He still held his relaxed pose, but his gaze was kind of intense. “You interested in someone?” He grinned then. A grin of sorts. “Because, you know, if I’m getting in your way or...”
“No! Oh, my gosh, Johnny, no!” Her hand was on his arm where it lay on the table. “Sorry,” she said, pulling back. “I didn’t mean to be so loud.”
He scanned the patio, seemingly unconcerned, and their waitress returned with their pitcher of beer and two iced glasses. Johnny poured expertly, giving her a filled mug with almost no head. He ordered for both of them. He knew what kind of dressing she wanted on her salad and knew to ask them to leave out the peppers. She liked that.
Too much.
This whole being-close-to-Jackson thing while not being able to just go and get him was making her nuts. The way she’d overreacted when he’d said they should hold off on putting in Chrissy’s application. She’d jumped to the crazy conclusion that he was done with her and...
She was messing up her relationship with Johnny and that was the last thing she wanted.
She took a deep breath. “I mentioned your need not to date as part of your sabbatical because I wondered if it bothered you to have people look at us and think we’re a couple. Other than at the daycares, of course, we both knew going in that would be a factor. But Kent at the rental office this morning, he obviously thought so. And people here, probably everywhere we go out to eat, in the hotels we stay at...”
“We get two-bedroom suites,” he reminded her. “Hardly what a couple would do.”
Right. At least, not a couple with him as one half.
Tabitha reached for her beer, visualizing the photograph in her purse. The smile on her two-year-old son’s face as he held a basket of plastic eggs. She wanted to rest her head on Johnny’s shoulder, feel his arms around her—but that wasn’t doing anything except making her weak.
Yeah, thinking of Jackson was hard. Emotions were pushing at her in a way they hadn’t done in months. Refusing to be pushed back. What if Mark caught wind that they’d found him and Jackson? What if she got this close and he ran again?
She couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
When her thoughts led right back to the point of panic, making the cold sweats and tremors start, she glanced over at Johnny. Saw him watching her.
She smiled at him. He smiled back.
And she wanted to be in his arms.
* * *
“So give me your plan for telling Mallory,” she said.
Johnny took a sip of beer before he answered Tabitha, ashamed that her son, her quest, had been the last thing on his mind as he’d been watching her.
Her pain, her beauty, his sudden need to be man to her woman—those thoughts had pretty much occupied his mind. Not necessarily in that order. She’d mentioned dating and his brain had slipped into his pants.
Taking with it all the thoughts and feelings, the scents and memories, of Tabitha Jones.
It occurred to him that she could be feeling it, too, this suddenly intense attraction. It was entirely possible, plausible even, that he felt so off-center because nuances in their relationship were changing.
Like the fact that she’d brought up the subject of dating.
Or worrying that he was going to back out on their life-quest bargain by not being willing to play the part of Chrissy’s dad, if necessary.
Asking if he’d mentioned her to his parents...
If he hadn’t
decided his food truck venture required celibacy while he honored his deceased wife, he might have considered asking Tabitha how she felt about adjusting their bargain to include some physical benefits.
And in doing that, he could ruin a great friendship. In truth, now that he’d had six months on the truck, he didn’t see how he could have fulfilled Angel’s dream without Tabitha there helping him.
He could always have hired someone, but would that person have also been able to give him the impetus to get the job done as well as Angel deserved? He’d work the truck with or without Tabitha, because that was who he was, but her presence and the promise he’d made her changed things.
She brought out something in him he hadn’t seen coming. But he could see it now. He got out of bed in the morning these days because he was eager for the day ahead, not just because the alarm went off.
He’d never answered her question about his plan concerning the daycare. She was people watching, as though she found the other diners fascinating.
“If we’re going to tell Mallory Harris the truth, I think we should do it in an appointment scheduled for that purpose, not as an afterthought to what she believes is a meeting regarding Chrissy,” he said.
“And we can’t do this over the phone,” Tabitha jumped in before he could take a breath “We’ll have a better chance of getting her to believe that Jason’s father kidnapped him if we speak face-to-face. I can show her the age-progressed photo. Plus his baby pictures and all the ones taken during his first year. We can show her the photo of Mark the police had, but as both Detective Bentley and Alistair told us, it’s a pretty clear bet that he’s altered his appearance. Still, I can tell her about little things Jackson did, like the way he used to do a closed-mouth spit whenever I tried to give him peas...”
Johnny listened because she enthralled him. But when she paused, he continued.
“We’ll get to all of that,” he said, not in the least surprised that her idea had real substance. She wouldn’t have proposed it otherwise. “To arrange that meeting, I suggest we tell her I’m a lawyer. That I’m helping you.”
He waited, and when she didn’t interject, continued. “We can ask her to meet with us to discuss the details of a situation that’s relevant to our earlier visit.”
Her Lost and Found Baby Page 5
