Live-In Lover

by Lyn Stone

  Using a vehicle to murder someone left too much to chance. No one with any sense used that method. Then again, Jensen certainly could be homicidal without being sensible.

  The baby broke the silence. Her dainty hands continued to pound the layer of purple pudding she had concocted out of the muffin and juice mixture.

  Slowly, Molly got up and began to clean up the mess as though it was a morning ritual. “I really need to get Syd and my mother out of town as soon as possible. Only I can’t think of where they could go that Jack couldn’t find them. He knows everybody we know. Well, except you, of course.”

  “That would be wise. I’ll handle it,” Damien said.

  Arranging for a safe place would be relatively easy. Getting Molly to go and then stay with them might pose a problem.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly with a look of profound gratitude, and reached out to squeeze his hand.

  The brief touch, just like the others, triggered something unfamiliar inside him. Not lust. Desire was already a given and had been since she had opened the door this morning. Maybe even before that, if he were honest with himself. There had been a stirring of it when he’d received her message in Florida and remembered her from their first meeting. This other not-lust thing, however, he didn’t want to examine too closely.

  He silently observed while she microwaved a bowl of instant oatmeal with cinnamon and sat again, this time to feed her daughter properly with a spoon.

  “My mea,” the child announced, sticking her finger in the bowl and addressing Damien directly for the first time.

  “Yes, I see,” Damien answered, unsure how to converse with anyone that age but glad for the momentary diversion.

  “Seeee!” she parroted, spewing fine bits of the oatmeal through her teeth and onto his favorite jacket.

  “Stop that, Sydney!” Molly ordered firmly. “Don’t spit on the nice man.”

  She shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Syd’s only nineteen months, but I think she’s hitting the Terrible Twos a little early.”

  Damien watched the small lips quiver. Poor little thing. She hadn’t meant to spit.

  “It’s all right, really,” he said, hoping to avoid another test of his tolerance for high-pitched sound. “She did stop when you said she should.” He smiled at the child to reassure her he wasn’t angry.

  Molly nodded. “Yep. Syd’s brilliant.”

  “Mmm,” Damien murmured noncommittally. It seemed a typically mother-like thing for her to say.

  Damien had never thought much about motherhood and all it entailed, likely because he couldn’t remember the woman who had given birth to him. His uncle, a widower in his fifties, had adopted him when Damien was orphaned at age three.

  A succession of housekeepers had provided only glimpses of what a mother around the house must be like.

  Damien suddenly felt a tremendous lack, where before there had been only a blank space inside him he hadn’t realized existed.

  He couldn’t chance that what had happened to him might happen to this child. Losing a parent must be the worst event possible for a little one.

  Unless, of course, it was a parent like Jensen. He had to keep Molly safe so she could continue to give all she was giving to her child.

  “You’ll go with your mother and daughter, of course,” he informed her.

  She shook her head firmly. “Can’t do that. Jack would just wait until I came home and start all this again. I think we’d better get this settled while you’re around to help me, don’t you?”

  She had a point, he admitted reluctantly. Molly was right about one thing, the police would not intervene unless her ex-husband did something they construed as dangerous.

  Maybe he should allow her to stay here. Together, they might draw Jensen out, make him lose his cool in front of witnesses and threaten her publicly. Even if that was not enough to get the local cops to arrest him, Damien might be able to frighten him severely enough so that he’d give up his plan for revenge and leave Molly alone.

  It was a long shot and probably not a permanent fix. The success of it would depend directly on Jack Jensen’s sanity. Unfortunately, there were few alternatives.

  “Do you have an extra room by any chance?” he asked.

  She laid the spoon down and looked at him with such hope, he felt guilty that he had ever considered not helping her even if his hesitation had lasted only seconds.

  “You’ll stay here? With me?” Her relief was nearly palpable. “You’re terrific, you know that? I am so grateful, Damien. Ford will be, too.”

  As if anyone could drag him away, Damien thought with a wry twist of his lips. Regardless of the reason for it, that brother of hers might not be all that thrilled with the idea of a virtual stranger bunking in with his sister. From the way they had acted in the hospital, Damien knew Molly and Ford must be quite close.

  How would it be if Molly touched him with a bit of that caring she showed so easily to her daughter and her brother? She must have some to spare. It needn’t be anything permanent, or anywhere near the depth of what she felt for her family.

  Love certainly wasn’t necessary, or even something he wanted from her. That would be a little too deep for comfort. He only wished for a taste of how it would feel to know someone cared a bit, that was all.

  “I have an idea,” he said, using his most businesslike tone. “How do you think Jensen would react to your having a live-in lover?”

  Her beautiful mouth dropped open and her eyes widened with shock. Then she laughed. Ah, that full-bodied, head-thrown-back laughter he remembered from when he’d first met her. His own smile widened in response to it. Even the child giggled and patted its sticky hands together.

  Was it so ridiculous, his suggestion?

  “Jack would go berserk, if he’s not there already,” she said with a droll expression. “Not that he still cares about me, even in a twisted way. But he sure wouldn’t want me to find anybody else. After him. He always said…” Her voice trailed off and her expression darkened. “No, I don’t want what happened to Joe to happen to you, Damien. We’d better scratch that plan.”

  “We have to draw him out somehow and I believe this will work. I can take care of myself, Molly. And I’ll take care of you, as well. Trust me?”

  She worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment, then nodded.

  He stood and held out his hand to her. Molly hesitated only a moment and then shook it to set their deal. To his surprise, she held on.

  “Me!” the baby demanded, reaching for him. Hesitantly, Damien extended his left index finger. The small oatmeal-coated hand closed around it, wagging in parody of a handshake.

  For a moment Damien stood there speechless, a part of something for which he had no frame of reference. But it felt incredibly good.

  Then he cleared his throat, disentangled himself and rested his hands on his hips. “Fine, then. Why don’t you pack some things for the child while I make some arrangements by phone? Then we’ll collect your mother and—”

  “We’ll have to wait until she comes home from work at six,” Molly interrupted.

  He nodded. “Better to make the move at night, anyway.”

  She turned away then and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll miss Syd.” Damien watched her supple fingers knead her upper arms. A self-comforting gesture, he supposed.

  Before he knew what he was doing, Damien had placed his hand on her shoulder to add what he could to that comfort. “Everything will work out, Molly,” he assured her. “I’ll see to it.”

  Her sudden smile was a thing to behold. “We’ll see to it together,” she said. Then she patted his hand and moved out from under his grasp to retrieve the child from her high chair.

  “Go stow your gear in the guest room, lover,” she quipped with a brave chuckle that sounded forced. “I have to wonder if anybody in the world’s going to buy this hoax.”

  Again, she laughed, ruefully this time, as she shifted the baby to one hip. “You…and me to
gether? An unlikely match, for sure.” She shook her head, rolled her beautiful eyes heaven-ward and sighed as though the whole idea seemed incredibly bizarre to her.

  Damien wasn’t laughing. “Oh, they’ll buy it,” he said softly, seriously. Then to himself, “I’d buy it if I could afford it.”

  The hours crawled by as they waited for six o’clock. Molly tried to make the time comfortable for Damien, while he seemed determined to make her even more nervous that she already was.

  Instead of watching television to while away the time, he watched her. Everything she did, from unloading the dishwasher to folding clothes, he apparently found fascinating.

  Syd got the same treatment. She might as well have been an alien from another planet under close observation by a scientist. Damien kept his distance, but rarely let either of them out of his sight for long.

  The few breaks they’d had from all that attention were trips to the bathroom and once when he excused himself to make a fairly lengthy phone call to arrange a safe place for her mother and Sydney.

  He also checked her security. She already knew it was little better than adequate. There were no fancy cameras or laser beams installed, but there would be an alarm at the police station if anyone broke in.

  She’d known she couldn’t depend on simple door and window locks and so had bought an inexpensive alarm system. Under the circumstances, she would have gone without groceries to finance that.

  And speaking of groceries, it was time to buy some if she planned to feed a full-grown man. He’d been a sport about eating the peanut butter sandwiches and macaroni and cheese for lunch, but that wouldn’t satisfy a guy his size for long.

  She plopped down onto the sofa beside him and plumped up the pillow next to her. “What shall I buy to cook while you’re here? Any preferences?”

  “We’ll eat out,” he said decisively.

  “Not every meal, surely!” she exclaimed. “That’s way too expensive.”

  “I’ll take care of it. We need to be visible as a couple if we want Jensen to find out about us.”

  She punched the pillow. “Oh, Jack will find out, all right. Don’t worry about that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows I have a man in the house.”

  “If he really was responsible for Joe Malia’s death, then we should expect him to react to this fairly soon. Probably within the next few days.”

  With effort, Molly tamped down her fear enough to sound matter-of-fact. “I almost hope he will, just as soon as I get Syd and Mama somewhere safe. This waiting for the other shoe to drop is making me crazy.”

  “I can well imagine,” he said.

  She sighed. “I’d sure like to get this straightened out before Ford gets home. I’m afraid he’ll go after Jack and get himself in trouble.”

  “How long will he be away?” Damien asked.

  Molly wondered if they ever discussed their cases with each other when they weren’t working together. “A month, maybe more. He’s on that detail as liaison with your European counterparts.”

  “Ah, the car smuggling ring?” he asked.

  “That’s it. Mary’s there in Bonn with him. They said they’ll be going on to Switzerland for a vacation after he’s finished working.”

  “Well, they should enjoy that,” he said, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

  “I’m surprised they didn’t send you, too,” Molly commented. “After all, I expect you’re more familiar with that part of the world than Ford is.”

  Damien smiled and fiddled with the stack of magazines on her coffee table. “I was busy with another matter. We take whatever lands in our laps. That’s the way it goes. Not often do we have much choice.”

  Molly touched his arm, willing him to look at her. “Damien, I feel like I’ve jumped the gun, asking you to do this. I appreciate your coming when I called, but you do have a choice here if you want to back out. Ford wouldn’t hold it against you. He’d understand and so will I. Your work is dangerous enough, but this could be downright deadly.” She shuddered, just thinking about what had happened to Joe.

  He looked her straight in the eyes and his were full of concern. “Nothing is more important to me right now than ensuring your safety, Molly. Ford being your brother has nothing to do with it.”

  That surprised a little laugh out of her. “Then why? Why are you doing it?”

  Damien looked away and shrugged. “You said you needed me. That’s reason enough.”

  It wasn’t, of course.

  Unbelievable as it seemed, she suddenly wondered if Damien might want to become involved on a very personal level with her. She had to admit, Damien Perry was a very tempting man. However, at this point in her life, she couldn’t even afford to think about anything like that happening.

  It was one thing to weave fantasies about a guy like him, quite another to take those imaginings seriously.

  Yet how could she make that clear to him right up front without talking about it? She couldn’t very well do that when the yearning she thought she saw in him might only be a projection of her own. Wouldn’t that be the most embarrassing blunder in the world, if he hadn’t even considered…?

  Molly prayed this was only her imagination working overtime.

  Chapter 3

  You can’t kill her now. Jack Jensen argued with himself as he forced his foot to remain on the accelerator of his dark blue Mercedes Benz. Reluctantly, he cruised by the house again.

  He would just love to slam on the brakes, tear up that walkway, kick in the front door and strangle the bitch right now. The jerk she had in there with her, too.

  But he had to be careful. So far, he had been. No way was he spending another hour behind bars because of that tramp. He could wait. Play it just right. He backed into the driveway of a vacant house just down the street where his car would be concealed by the shrubbery.

  Shadows hid him as he got out and made his way back to the driveway where the bastard had parked his car. He could risk doing this much now, just in case they decided to take off together somewhere. Nobody was getting away from Jack Jensen.

  He quickly set his device under the bumper and hurried back to his own car, needing a little something sweet to keep him alert and on top of things.

  All he had to do now was wait until the boyfriend left and Molly went to bed, he thought with a quick sniff.

  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known she had another man around somewhere, now was it? Molly always had a man. She’d suckered him into proposing by being stingy with that body of hers. And looking innocent as a kid.

  Damn, she’d made him feel stupid, but he wasn’t stupid anymore. He sniffed again and smiled at the thought.

  The phone calls were a start, but he was ready to escalate now. The hit-and-run that killed Joe Malia had been a godsend. Jack couldn’t have planned that better if he had arranged it himself.

  He relished the sheer horror in her voice every time she’d answered the phone after that had happened. But it was no longer enough. No, he had big plans for Molly.

  Jack fingered one of the keys hanging from the ignition, grinding his teeth and watching the house.

  “C’mon, babe, why don’t you send him home and go to bed? Turn out those lights and give me some dark time. A half hour’s all Jackie needs to plant your little surprise. Just a tiny something to make you think about me.”

  The oak mantel clock struck ten. Molly had called her mother earlier and explained the plan. The problem now was to explain to her mom why she wouldn’t be staying with them herself.

  “It’s time to go,” Damien said as he stood. He glanced from his thin gold watch to the playpen where Sydney talked to and wrestled with her teddy bear. “Does she need to, uh…”

  “Go potty?” Molly said, laughing at his refusal to repeat the kiddie lingo she knew he’d heard her use with Syd. “No, she’s fine.” Sydney hadn’t quite learned what was expected of her yet, but was very vocal about her bathroom training nonetheless. “She’s suited up for bed and goes out li
ke a light when you crank up the car. Great traveler.”

  “That’s good,” he said, lifting the large suitcase and over-size tote that Molly had readied. He headed for the back door that led out through the garage.

  Molly flipped on the outside lights and followed, carrying Sydney and the teddy bear. She looked longingly at the new steel-gray Lexus sitting in the driveway.

  “We’d better take my van,” she suggested.

  “You can trust me to drive,” he said coolly.

  Molly clicked her tongue impatiently. “I do. I was thinking about the car seat.”

  “Oh. Well, those things are portable, aren’t they? I’ll change it over.”

  The very idea of watching that exercise in frustration appealed to Molly in a very devilish way. Riding in something other than her boxy rattletrap appealed even more. “Okay. Have at it.”

  Molly took pity when, a good quarter of an hour later, he backed out of the car to catch his wind from all that under-the-breath cursing. She whisked Syd off the fender where she’d perched her and held her out. “Hold her for a minute and I’ll fix it. It is tricky.”

  He grasped Syd under her arms and held her out from him as though Molly had handed him a full-grown rattlesnake. Molly hid a laugh as she crawled into the back seat and began wrestling with the seat belt that he had twisted through the wrong holes.

  When she emerged, her breath stilled at what she saw. Damien held Sydney close, her face tucked into the curve of his neck. He leaned against the side of the car with his eyes shut and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. One large hand applied gentle, irregular pats to Syd’s back.

  This was the first time he had held Sydney and the man looked transported. She hated to interrupt.

  “Want me to take her?” Molly asked softly.

  His eyes flew open and he appeared confused. Reluctant, too, which amazed her. “I believe she’s nodded off,” he whispered, making no move to give her up.