by Robyn Grady
Teagan had argued. After what she’d just heard, if Seattle wasn’t safe, surely L.A. was worse. But Dex reassured her; he was taking time off from the studio, hiring a bodyguard and P.I. Tate would be under his personal, around-the-clock care.
Now, as he thumped the door again, Dex’s blood pressure rose. Teagan was expecting him, so where the hell was she? Had the fire rat tracked down more than Teagan’s phone number? Had something happened to his sister? To Tate?
Dex was about to stalk around the back to investigate when the door opened. Tate stood on the other side, a big bright grin on his face. Dex swooped the boy up into his arms. His palm cupping the boy’s small warm head, he held his brother close.
“Where’s your sister?” Dex said in a thick voice.
“I’m right here.”
Dex opened his eyes. Teagan was waiting, her thick blond hair pulled back in its trademark ponytail, her expression concerned. Dex stepped into the foyer and closed the door before setting Tate on his sneakered feet. Teagan squeezed her little brother’s shoulder.
“Go get your knapsack, sweetie.”
“But Dex is here!” Tate gripped his brother’s hand.
“You’re going home with Dex,” Teagan pointed out. “You can catch up on the plane ride back.” Teagan had her ‘not budging’ look in place, so Tate scurried off. When he was out of earshot, Teagan gave Dex a hug before stepping back to study him. She winced.
“You’re white as a ghost.”
“Goes hand in hand with heart failure. What took you so long to answer?”
“I was finishing a phone call. Tate knows he shouldn’t ever open the door by himself.”
Now more than ever, a great rule to enforce.
“When I get back, I’ll organize a bodyguard for you, too.”
“No need.”
“Hopefully not. But I’m not taking any more chances.”
“I mean I’ve taken care of security. Or, rather, a friend of mine has. That’s who I was on the phone to.”
“What friend?”
“Someone who’s concerned and insisted that he help.”
“This isn’t a subject to bandy around the coffee table. It’s serious.”
“Which is why I cannot believe you kept it to yourself this long.”
“I mentioned it to Cole. I spoke to him again this morning to give him a heads-up before I called Brandon. He passed on a recommendation for a security mob for Seattle as well as in L.A.”
“Like I said, Damian will take care of things up here.”
She didn’t get it. “This problem needs a heavyweight, not one of your gym jocks who depends on protein bars for added muscle.”
Teagan laughed then apologized when Dex growled. “Sorry. But if you knew this particular friend, you’d understand. He’s a capable guy.”
The same guy she had needed to see last week? How well did she know this man? Call him paranoid, but suddenly Dex sensed a snake slithering under every rock.
He was about to ask more when Tate came barreling back, his dinosaur knapsack swinging at his side. Reaching them, he roped an arm around Teagan’s leg and looked up with eyes that could melt an ice fjord.
“Wish you could come, Tea,” Tate said.
“Not this time.” Her ponytail swept over one shoulder as she bent to brush a kiss atop his head.
“Maybe you should come with us,” Dex said.
She exhaled. “I have a business to run.”
“And that friend watching your back,” he added, still suspicious.
She released a warm smile. “Exactly. Check in when you get home. And say hi to Shelby.” Teagan’s brow furrowed. “She’s still in the picture, isn’t she?”
“Very much so.”
And while he was sorry that she was involved in this mess, he was glad to have Shelby Scott on his side. She was sensible, committed…and what they had shared last night was also pretty darn amazing. This morning, after they’d made love again, he wished he could have stayed longer. She felt so right in his arms…the sensations she aroused where like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Perhaps it was due in part to the uncertainty, his unease over this situation, but he couldn’t wait to get back to her…hold her, kiss her and make certain she was all right.
But with Tate moving back into the suite, their relationship would need to revert to hands off. Shelby had said as much herself this morning before he’d left. They’d reaffirmed their pact. As difficult as it would be to restrain those emotions, Tate’s well-being in all things took priority.
* * *
Home from Seattle, Dex let Tate into the hotel suite. A heartbeat later, he spied the elaborate display laid out near the living room just as Shelby appeared, a welcoming smile spread over her face. She said hi and added, “I’ve baked some cupcakes especially for you, Tate.”
“Can I have one now?” Tate said earnestly, hanging back a bit. “My stomach’s grumbling.”
“You can have two,” Dex qualified, “if that’s okay with Shelby.”
“I’ll help you put your stuff away first,” she said.
Tate held his knapsack tightly in front of him. “I can do it.”
Dex and Shelby exchanged a look before, with garnered vigor, she moved toward the living room. “I picked up something while I was out today.” She nodded toward the mini prehistoric world Dex had spotted earlier…a spooky volcano, a swamp as well as an assortment of ferocious plastic dinosaurs.
Tate dropped his bag, ran over and scooped up a foot-high replica of a creepy creature Dex recognized from the original King Kong.
“T. rex!” Tate cried.
“And a pterodactyl and a couple of—”
“Stebasaurus!”
Shelby laughed. “Stegosaurus, yes. I think they’re my favorite.”
Shelby knelt down beside Tate but, concentrating on the dinosaur—or feeling a little crowded—he quarter-turned away. Shelby hesitated before tacking up her great-to-see-you smile.
Dex moved forward. “Go clean up, chum, and we’ll wash those cakes down with a big glass of milk.” When Tate lowered the T. rex, Dex said, “Take him with you, if you like. He’s yours.”
Tate blinked. “For keeps?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Santa got me one,” Tate explained. “He moves and growls. He sleeps on my bed.” Tate held T. rex high. “But this one’s even better. His skin feels like slime.”
As Tate strode off to his room, Shelby apologized.
“Hope you don’t mind a Jurassic Park in your living room.”
“If Tate’s happy, I’m happy.”
She pushed to her feet and joined him. “He looks a little lost.”
“He was so excited on the plane. Didn’t stop yabbering.”
“It’s me he feels uncomfortable with.”
Dex knew the rules. No touching, definitely no kissing, while Tate was here. But his brother was out of the room and Shelby needed reassurance…the kind that involved holding her in his two arms and speaking warm words.
He drew her near. She stiffened but then relented and leaned against him.
“It’s silly,” she said against his shoulder. “I’ve worked with tons of kids. I was shy myself growing up. Still am, really. And Tate’s been shuffled around so much lately.”
He lifted her chin and smiled into those gorgeous green eyes. “This isn’t your everyday, garden variety babysitting gig.” He admitted, “We’re all a bit on edge.”
Her gaze searched his. “I’m just wondering…with you taking time off from the office, maybe it’s best if I bow out. You know, leave you two alone.”
“If I thought that was best for Tate, I’d tell you.” His fingertips filed around the curve of her cheek. “But you and me and Tate… From the minute we
started talking that day at the café, I knew we’d make a great trio.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Just give him time.”
When he heard the bathroom faucet shut off, Dex reluctantly released Shelby’s waist and she left for the kitchen. Dinosaur tucked under one arm, Tate reappeared. Tacking up his smile, Dex rubbed his belly.
“I’m ready for those cupcakes.”
“And tomorrow it’s Disneyland.”
“Not tomorrow, I’m afraid.”
“Next day?”
“We’ll see.”
“Or the beach. I can body surf and tread water for almost two minutes.”
“First things first,” Dex said as Shelby brought out a tray. He gave a dramatic interpretation of a big cat’s prowl following her to the table. “I call dibs on the jumbo one with the chocolate frosting.”
His eyes round, Tate was already pulling out a chair at the table. But when he sat down, his expression slipped. “Tea says I shouldn’t have too much cake or candy.”
Tate slid an apprehensive look toward Shelby, who seemed to hold her breath before pouring three glasses and offering the perfect response.
“After you finish your milk,” she said, “I think we should phone your sister. She might be missing you.”
Tate’s face glowed. “And phone Mommy and Daddy too?”
Dex dropped the chocolate-frosted cupcake on a plate and slid it in front of their pint-size guest. “You got it.”
A couple of calls was easy. Disneyland at this point, or any other outing, didn’t sit so well, even in the company of the bodyguard he was putting on duty tomorrow. Naturally Tate wanted to run around and spend time in the sunshine. But best to keep Tate indoors and über-close until he could get to the bottom of this situation.
When Tate gave a small smile and offered his T. rex to Shelby to hold while he started on the cupcake, Dex exhaled on a smile and sat back in his chair. Like he’d told Shelby—and she well knew—this wasn’t “everyday.” But as Tate and Shelby began to chat about massive meteors and the tragic demise of dinosaurs, Dex reassured himself.
Baby steps. They’d get through this, and get through it together.
* * *
Shelby was glad that Dex had hired a private investigator he had faith in. She was less happy about the stony-faced bodyguard who followed on their heels if ever they ventured outside of the suite. Which was rarely.
Shelby understood and supported Dex’s mission to keep Tate safe at all costs. What she questioned was whether the five-year-old should be in his care at all during this time. Perhaps this situation wasn’t as dangerous as the bullets and bashings Dex’s father had endured in Sydney. Still, more than once she’d suggested that Guthrie Hunter needed to know about the trouble here so that he could make an informed decision about where he wanted his youngest son placed. But Dex was determined not to add to his father’s worry. He was certain this less critical situation would be ironed out soon.
As the days wound on with no leads, Shelby wasn’t so sure.
Still, in Tate’s company she was always upbeat, and, thankfully, Tate had warmed to her…sharing stories about his friends back home, asking her to read to him at night. It nearly broke her heart when she’d tuck him in and he’d squeeze shut his eyes before mentioning his family in his prayers, particularly Teagan.
A week after Tate had come back to stay, Shelby saw an advertisement for a gallery exhibition and she had an idea. After breakfast, when Tate had taken himself off to play with his indoor putting set, Shelby asked Dex if he’d like to go.
Dex looked up from a studio spreadsheet he was studying on his laptop.
“Tate would be bored witless.”
“I meant you and me. I thought Teagan might like to pay a quick visit. Tate would love that.”
Dex frowned. “We ought to keep our heads low for a while longer. Teagan can come visit another—”
“Teagan’s coming to visit?”
Tate had wandered out from his room. Now, at the prospect of seeing his sister, he started hooting and shooting around the living room like a firecracker.
Dex tried to calm him down. “I didn’t say Teagan was coming to visit.”
“You did. I heard. You said Teagan could come.”
Shelby brought over Dex’s cell phone. “No harm in asking.”
“She’d need to take time off work.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind playing hooky one day.”
Dex sent over a slanted grin. “Tell you what. You ask her.”
Tate had stilled, his big eyes glued on her, waiting for her response. He looked so hopeful and little and dependent on her. Shelby shucked back her shoulders.
“Get her on the line.”
But when the call went through and a man answered the phone, Shelby was taken aback.
“Sorry,” she said. “I must have the wrong number.”
“You’re after Teagan,” the man said. “She’s right here.”
The man’s voice was smooth, deep and confident. When Teagan got on the line, Shelby couldn’t help but notice that her voice was a little husky.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Shelby said.
Teagan was quick to reassure her. “Not at all. Just some…business I was wrapping up.” She hurried on. “What’s up?”
Shelby explained the situation.
“I know it’s a weekday,” Shelby went on, “but if you could possibly swing it, Tate would love to see you.”
Shelby studied Tate’s darling expectant face as he waited for a response. A reply didn’t take long.
“I’ll be down by noon tomorrow.”
Shelby immediately boomed out the news. “She’s coming!”
Tate took a breath then went straight back into firecracker mode.
* * *
The next day, as promised, Teagan arrived and Shelby and Dex went to a contemporary showing at a Culver City art gallery. Dex had insisted on buying her an outfit for the occasion; given that she had instigated this, she didn’t feel she could refuse. He’d ended up putting half a dozen knock-out dresses for her on his card. For tonight she’d chosen a white brushed-silk dress, knee-length and modest, with a tasteful diamond cut-out at the décolletage. The matching pocketbook had been dipped in crystals.
Enjoying each other’s company, and the art on show, she and Dex were talking to a couple who owned a stud-farm in San Miguel. They were interested in hearing about Shelby’s life growing up on a ranch and were discussing organizing a day for her, Tate and Dex to visit when Shelby’s cell phone signaled an incoming. She peeped at the caller ID.
And her chest tightened.
Since leaving Mountain Ridge, she and her dad had spoken regularly. Why was her father calling this time of night? His usual bedtime was not long after sundown. Muttering an excuse, she ducked off to hide in a quiet corner and take the call.
“Anything wrong?” she asked.
“Not a thing,” her dad replied. “Just hadn’t heard from you this week. I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Los Angeles is a big city.”
She apologized. “I’ve been busy.”
Her father knew she was working as a nanny, taking care of a gorgeous little boy called Tate.
“Sounds as if it’s all working out for you then,” he said.
“How about you? Daddy, you sound so tired.”
His voice was low and kind of creaky. She could imagine him in his easy chair, a dish of his favorite nut candy on his lap. Her mother used to sit with him in the evenings, watching her favorite sitcoms and romance movies. Shelby often thought her father turned on the television at night now purely for comfort’s sake, dreaming that his dear wife was with him still.
“I’m not tired so much as getting long in the tooth,” he said.
> Sixty-one wasn’t that old.
She had an unsettling thought. “You’re not having those pains again?”
After some trouble, he’d had a stent put in five years ago.
“It’s not the ticker,” he assured her. “I’m fighting fit.”
Still, tomorrow she’d phone Mr. Kokavec, a neighbor, and ask if he could look in on her father. Zeb Scott rarely went into town. He wasn’t a man who asked for help, even when he really needed it. She wished she could be there now to make certain this uneasy feeling was nothing more than her imagination.
Then he started to cough. She was reminded of her own recent experience when she’d been laid up in hospital with a bad chest infection, and her heart dropped.
“That sounds bad.”
He coughed a couple more times. “Damn bug just flew down my throat,” he wheezed.
“You’re on the porch?”
Dex appeared at her side. His smile fell when he saw her expression.
“I’m looking at that old tractor,” her father was saying. “An eyesore. I should get rid of it but I like keeping her around.”
Shelby sighed. Her father was looking to broken-down equipment for company now? She knew children left their homes. It was part of a normal life cycle. But it was that much harder when your parent was alone and living miles away from another living soul.
“Are you still playing cards Tuesdays at Dan Walton’s?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry about babying me. I just wanted to hear your voice before I took myself off to bed.”
She glanced around. The crowd was ebbing out the doors. The gallery was closing.
“Can I call you tomorrow?” she asked.
“We’ve caught up. Call next week. If I see Mrs. Fallon, I’ll tell her you said hi.”
Remembering Mrs. Fallon’s kindness hiring her at the kindergarten, always taking an interest in her life without seeming to pry, Shelby smiled. “Do that. Talk soon.”
Dex threaded her arm through his. Out in the open, he stopped to bring her wrist to his lips.
“You look like you’re about to cry,” he said.
“My dad sounded so odd on the phone. I wonder if he’s well.”
