Читать книгу The Baby Gift - Susan Crosby - Страница 9

Gina felt him move away from the bed. Opening her eyes, she saw him silhouetted in the bathroom doorway, shoulders set and legs planted, poised for action. She took a moment to admire him, this duty-driven man. His leashed strength and unwavering focus were even more appreciated now that she and her precious cargo were snuggled in a warm bed, out of harm’s way. It had been comforting hearing him move around the room, a brush of denim or a soft footfall the only sounds. But as she’d drifted toward sleep amid the peace his presence brought, a stark image of him imprinted itself in her mind.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

She couldn’t decide whether the edge in his voice was apology or accusation. “Do you wear a blue uniform?” she asked.

“No. Tan shirt, brown pants. Standard issue.”

Her temple pulsed. She spun her wedding ring, still hoping to draw reassurance from it, still finding none.

“There’s a photograph of me in a blue uniform with my parents in the hall outside the room,” he said, “taken the day I graduated from the police academy. I spent nine years on the L.A.P.D. before I accepted this job.”

She closed her eyes as fresh pain lanced her skull. Needing a diversion, she tried to focus on the conversation. “When did you move here?”

“What’s wrong, Gina?”

Silent as a stalking panther, he’d returned to the side of her bed and crouched there, although he didn’t touch her. She could’ve used a hug, a solid shoulder to lean on for just a minute.

“Do you need me to call Max? Are you in labor?”

Distract me, she begged him silently, wishing her head didn’t hurt every time something threatened to cut through the barbed wire guarding her memory. “I’m all right. I realized I could use a couple of extra pillows, though, if you have some.”

A cool breeze fanned her face at his instant departure. Deputy wriggled closer, then rested his head on her thigh, his liquid gaze uncensuring. The baby seemed settled, as well. Bracketed by baby and dog, Gina felt a contentment that she knew somehow was rare for her. Why?

And why wasn’t her husband with her? Eric. He should love and protect—

Fear stuck its claws in her, its talons wickedly sharp. What if it was Eric she was running from?

What if it wasn’t?

The chief suddenly loomed over her. “Are two pillows enough?”

She clenched the blanket with her fists, tucking it to her chin. Maybe she couldn’t trust anyone, not even J.T. Ryker, chief of police of Lost and Found, California. And she was alone with him, under his complete control—

“Gina?”

Deputy lifted his head, whining a little. J.T. patted him, all the while observing something in Gina’s expression he hadn’t seen before. Had her memory returned? He stooped down until they were eye to eye. She drew back. The blanket she gripped like an iron shield shook.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he said, guessing.

“I don’t know you,” she whispered, her eyes wide and searching.

“Yes, you do.”

She shook her head.

“I’m the man who’s going to protect you with his life.”

A watery sheen coated her eyes. Her throat convulsed. “Why would you do that?”

Because I care about you. I always have. The words stayed locked tighter than a cell door. He had his orders from Max. He wasn’t about to jeopardize her recovery by revealing they had a past, and a complicated one at that. Plus, she had a new man in her life, the father of the child she carried.

“I took an oath to protect and serve. It’s not a promise I take lightly. You’re safe with me, Gina. In every possible way.”

She seemed to relax all at once. The blanket fluttered, then drifted over her body, molding it again. Her eyelids lowered a little, her mouth softened. Their gazes met and held. Then, amazingly, she cupped his face with her hand.

“I’ll trust you,” she said quietly.

“Good.” He stood, breaking the contact. “I forgot to ask if you’re hungry.”

“Dr. Hunter gave me some soup while you were gone checking my car.”

She reached for the extra pillows and pulled them under the blankets, one apparently to cushion her belly, the other she shoved farther down. Between her knees? Then she burrowed like a settling kitten.

“If you need anything at all, just shout. I won’t be far,” he said, clenching his fists. He never wanted to see that look of fear in her eyes again. “If Deputy becomes a pain in the rear, tell him to get out.”

“Will he?” she asked, her voice slurred and sleepy. “Get out, that is?”

“Probably not. He’s training impaired. But I’ll hear and come get him.”

She smiled, then her breathing took on the slow, easy rhythm of sleep.

J.T. left the bathroom light on and the door cracked open to guide her should she wake. He looked out the window of his bedroom, noted that the blizzard had let up. Still, between the snow and the televised Rose Parade and football games, people would likely stay home today, and he wouldn’t be needed in his office. He’d heard the Caltrans crew pass by twice, already plowing the state highway. He lived close to the highway because of the accessibility, no matter what the weather. Most people would have to clear their own driveways or wait for Barney Cochran’s teenage sons to roll out of bed and plow the private roads they were contracted to do. J.T. also needed to have Gina’s car brought to his place.

His mouth twisted in a half smile. Everyone would see the unfamiliar car, and word would spread that he had a guest for the first time since he’d come to town. The rumors would start…

Turning from the window, he dropped onto his bed. With effort he tugged off his boots, then stretched out on the quilt, exhaustion rolling in waves down his body, but sleep not even a temptation. The nightmare would return. He didn’t doubt it for a second.

How long could he stall it?

He drew a deep, settling breath. That didn’t help, either. Gina’s perfume clung to his shirt, reminding him of their first meeting. She, a Phoenix, Arizona, transplant about to start her sophomore year at the University of Southern California. He, a thirty-one-year-old big-city cop trying not to let the job make him too cynical.

He had taken the youth athletic league team he co-coached with his partner, Eric Banning, to Tony’s Pizza after they’d won the age-ten-to-twelve division championship. Somewhere between the game and the party, Eric had disappeared—not a surprise. J.T. never had figured out why Eric had wanted to help coach, since he showed up only sporadically at the practices and games. He’d probably met some woman in the stands or the parking lot or at a traffic signal, and had gone off with her, his usual modus operandi. J.T. wasn’t about to let it spoil the kids’ celebration.

That first hot slice of pepperoni and sausage was calling his name when Gina walked through the door, wearing jeans, a plain white T-shirt, black leather jacket and boots, her long, dark hair shiny, her eyes sparkling. He barely noticed the two young women flanking her. Why would he? She was magnetic.

The restaurant might as well have been empty, except for them. Her eyes met his, and he finally understood that time really could stand still. Her smile froze, then softened before she looked away, her brows lifting at the last second, as if asking him a question she didn’t want to wait to have answered.

One by one his young players left with their families. He stayed and watched as she shot some rounds of pool, her jeans cupping an enticing rear end, the rest of her just as curvy. Leaning against her propped cue stick between shots, she returned his stare, less blatant but just as frequent.

It was crazy. He didn’t pick up women, yet he wanted to drive this one home and sleep with her that very night. Hell, he would’ve taken her right then and there on the pool table if he could have.

And because his attraction was so powerful, he waited for her to make the first move.

She finally did. After winning her fourth match, she silently held out a cue stick. Anticipation roared through him as he accepted her invitation. Or was it a challenge?

“J.T. Ryker,” he said as he wrapped his hand around the stick, taking care not to touch her.

“I’m Gina Benedetto.” She cocked her head. “And J.T. stands for…?”

A drift of flowery perfume reached him. “Jasper Thelonius.”

Her eyes twinkled. She leaned into him a little, her radiant heat stoking his fire a little hotter. “Or perhaps Jarvis Thurgood?”

“One’s as good as the other.”

“I’ll find out, you know. Somehow.”

Because he was tempted to kiss the smile off her lips, he reached around her to pick up a cube of chalk, his arm brushing hers. The air popped and sizzled between them. Out of control. This is way out of control. Shaken, he took a step back, hiding behind the motion of chalking the cue tip. “May I buy you a beer, Gina Benedetto?”

“You could, um, Junior Titus—” she flirted easily, naturally “—but the cops would probably haul you in.”

He knew, then. Knew before she said the words that there was no future with her, not tonight, not any night.

“I’m eighteen,” she added. “Nineteen soon, though.”

Eighteen. Might as well be a century between them. She hadn’t lived yet. And he…he had already lived too long.

Not finding a robe among the clothes in her closet, Gina showered and dressed before she left the guest room at a little past noon. Her night’s sleep had been interrupted several times by periodic trips to the bathroom or to walk off leg cramps. She might not be fully rested—was anyone this pregnant ever fully rested? she wondered—but she was relaxed. And hopeful.

No headache, so far. That was progress.

Her stomach rumbled, sending her in search of food. She wondered if the chief was at home. A glance into his bedroom as she’d shut and locked both bathroom doors had netted her a glimpse of an imposing four-poster bed. Sturdy pine furnishings and a cobalt-blue comforter and curtains lent a strong, masculine look to the tidy but warm and inviting room, one free of clutter or knickknacks. On the walls hung a couple of seascape watercolors that she wanted to inspect a little more closely, but she wouldn’t enter his room without an invitation. He’d already helped her above and beyond his responsibilities as a police officer, without complaining about the imposition.

Gina admired his house as she moved from room to room. The comfortably rustic furnishings melded with trees and mountains visible through huge windows, creating an indoor environment as impressive as the outdoor one. This wasn’t a house but a home, well loved and tended.

She found him sitting at a counter in the kitchen, sipping from a mug and reading, and dressed in his uniform, a gun holstered at his waist. He looked up from the book. Her breath caught a little at the intensity in his rich, golden eyes. Although his gaze never strayed from her face, she felt him look her up and down, as if she were a slender, sexy woman instead of…what she was. Wishful thinking, she chided herself, then frowned. She had no business wanting him to see her as a woman. She was married—

“Good morning,” she said firmly, changing the direction of her thoughts. He didn’t smile, exactly, but his expression wasn’t as fierce as last night. He really was an attractive man, in an I’m-the-boss kind of way, his uniform reinforcing the all-male, in-charge impression. She didn’t know a person could set his jaw that hard without shattering it.

“Sleep well?” he asked.

“Hmm.” She craned her neck to see the title of the book: Pregnancy and Childbirth. “A little light reading?”

“Found it in your trunk. I’ve been trained in how to deliver a baby, but I don’t know much about pregnancy.” He pointed to a cutaway drawing of an eight-months-pregnant woman. “This is you right now. How do you breathe?”

“Breathing’s not as much a problem as staying within bathroom range.” She examined the picture a little more closely. “I feel sorrier for the baby, all cramped up like that.”

This time his gaze did encompass her whole body, then lingered on her belly, as if he had permission now to look.

He picked up his mug again. “So, does ‘hmm’ mean you did or didn’t sleep well?”

“As well as can be expected.”

“You didn’t ask for help.” Accusation and maybe even disappointment rang in his words.

“I didn’t need any. But thank you for the offer.” She smiled at him, hoping to break the tension.

His frown deepened.

“Look, Chief, I’ve got enough problems without you being mad over whether I can find the bathroom during the night. If I couldn’t take care of myself, I wouldn’t have left home, I think, no matter what the situation there. Okay?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

He started to stand. She put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place, felt his muscles clench. “I can fix something for myself. Have you eat— Oh! Good morning, baby.”

She closed her eyes a moment as she flattened her hand on top of her belly. “She’s been quiet this morning. I’d started to worry.”

“She?”

A smile lit up her eyes. “Don’t ask me how I know that. Do you want to feel her?”

Before he could answer, she grabbed his hand and placed it where hers had been. Even though her sweater made a bulky barrier, the intimacy startled him silent. The wonder of feeling something poking at her from inside made him relax his hand.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” she said, breathless, then laughed when the baby kicked harder.

J.T. stood. He couldn’t allow that kind of bond to form between them, not now, not ever. That baby belonged to some other man.

And becoming a father was a fantasy J.T. had long ago abandoned.

“Max wants you to call him,” he said abruptly, picking up the phone and punching a speed dial number. “I’ll fix breakfast today. Tomorrow you can.”

“You expect me to still be here?” She put the receiver to her ear. “No reports have come through?”

“None. Oatmeal okay?”

“Do you have chocolate chips?”

He must have looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, because she grinned.

“Cravings. It’s like eating an oatmeal and chocolate chip cookie for break— Good morning, Dr. Hunter. This is Gina Banning.”

J.T. listened to her answer Max’s questions as he measured water, salt and oatmeal into a microwavable bowl, then went in search of chocolate chips. He’d already fixed a bowl of orange sections, mixed with banana slices and sprinkled with chopped walnuts. It had been a long time since he’d made anyone breakfast.

“He says my blood pressure was pretty high last night, so he’ll stop by in a little while to check it again,” Gina said, coming up beside J.T. “What can I do to help?”

“Everything’s under control. No chocolate chips, but I can break up a candy bar, if that’ll work.”

“That would be great. Just a few small pieces tossed in when the oatmeal is done. A little goes a long way. Thanks.” She pressed her cheek to his arm for a second, then moved away.

Hell. He’d forgotten how touchy-feely she was. This was never going to work. She was only adding fuel to the explosion sure to blast the roof off when her memory returned—and she was bound to blame him. He would take responsibility for the other times she’d gotten mad at him, because he’d brought that upon himself, but not this time. Not for following orders. Well, maybe Max had finished his research on amnesia and would decide it was okay to give her some of her missing puzzle pieces. J.T. needed to know why she was here. He wanted to know why she was pregnant but not married.

“The coffee’s decaf,” he said, angling his head toward the coffeemaker. “But there’s milk and orange juice, too.”

She helped herself to the juice. “Where’s Deputy?”

“He’s got a dog door, so he comes and goes.” He started the microwave, then leaned against the counter, his arms and ankles crossed. “I’m surprised he’s stayed outside this long, actually, given how deep the snow is and how little he likes cold weather. He usually finds himself a sunny spot in the living room to nap in.”

“Your home is beautiful. And the view! The view is simply spectacular.”

“It was a big change for a city boy. Hadn’t even seen snow until I moved here. I had to learn how to drive in it.”

She swirled her juice in the glass, eyeing it instead of him. “Is there enough social life here for you? I mean, I assume you’re not married or I would’ve met Mrs. Ryker by now.”

“I keep her locked in the attic.”

Her head lifted in a flash. She frowned, then she tossed a paper clip at him.

He caught it on the fly. “There’s no Mrs. Ryker. It wouldn’t be easy being married to me. I’m never really off duty, although I’m not always on the clock. I tend to stay in uniform, because looking the part is half the battle.”

“It suits you.”

Simple words accompanied by her slow, thorough inspection of his…uniform, he assumed. But the flicker of purely female interest he saw in her eyes whisked him back to the night they’d met.

After a few seconds she put a hand to her forehead.

“Headache again?” he asked.

She nodded. “That was sudden. I’d been doing so well, too.”

“Any other memories come to you?”

“Images that don’t make sense.”

“Like what?”

She settled on a stool at the counter, set her glass down with a precise movement, then rolled it between her hands. He reminded himself that she didn’t remember him, that even though she said she would trust him, they were only words, and certainly not reason enough for her to confide in him. Some amount of caution would be ingrained in her.

“It’s as if someone took a bunch of movie clips and put them onto one tape,” she said after a while. “Flashes of people, and all of them seemed…I don’t know, angry or something.”

“At you?”

“I’m not sure. There’s a man—he’s young and nice looking. He isn’t as tall as you, I don’t think, and he’s kind of stocky. Or maybe he’s just muscular. It’s hard to tell. His hair—” she sliced a hand front to back over her head “—is cut really short, like a soldier.”

Eric, J.T. thought.

“He’s wearing a suit and tie, and there’s a flower on his lapel, so maybe it’s my wedding. Maybe he’s my husband? Why wouldn’t I recognize him, though? Then there’s a woman, not my mother, but about her age, and she’s crying. Crying so hard and pointing at me. And then the scene switches to my father, calling me…”

Pain dulled her voice, stealing what J.T. had always been drawn to—her optimism. She’d seen the good in everything, everyone…except him. She’d never forgiven him for what she called “leading her on” that first night, then turning his back on her.

“My father is calling me a brood mare. He’s saying he thought I was smarter than that.”

The defeat in her posture knocked on J.T.’s teetering wall of detachment. “Do you think these images are real or dreams?”

“I saw them as I woke up, so I hope they’re dreams.”

The microwave beeped. He leaned across the counter and wrapped his hands around hers, still clamping the glass. “Let it go for now, Gina.”

She lifted her gaze. “But to run like I did, J.T.? I had to be protecting my baby. Nothing else makes sense. I think what hurts is that I don’t seem to have anyone I trusted enough to help. Don’t I have friends? Why wouldn’t I go to my parents? Or one of my brothers or sisters? I have three of each, you know. Three older sisters and three younger brothers.”

J.T. served her breakfast as she sat, her chin propped on her hand, a frown of concentration on her face.

“I grew up in Phoenix. Wouldn’t I drive in that direction instead of north?”

“Too obvious a place to hide…if that’s what you’re doing.”

“Lost and Found seems like a good place to hide.” She dipped her spoon into the cereal. “How did you end up here?”

“Purely by chance.” At least this much of the story he could tell her honestly. “After I left L.A. I decided to travel. A couple of months into the trip I stopped here and had lunch at Belle’s Diner. By the time lunch was over, a bunch of the townspeople had held a meeting right there in front of me, then offered me the job of police chief, fire chief, dog catcher and anything else they thought of along the way, as necessary. They’d been looking for six months.”

“And you said yes.”

“I gave it some thought. About ten seconds.” He smiled at the memory. “Aaron Taylor walked over to his hardware and auto parts store, and came back with a gold badge, Deputy, his food and water dishes, and a warning that the dog howled when left alone. He still does.”

“Why did you leave L.A.?”

The back door opened, bringing a blast of cold air, nature’s change of subject. Deputy charged into the adjoining utility room, followed by Max, who stomped his boots on a throw rug just inside the door.

“Sun’s breaking through. It’s blinding out there,” he announced. “Your dog treed Mrs. Foley’s cat again.”

J.T. grimaced. “So that’s where he’s been.” He walked past Max and grabbed his jacket from a peg by the door. “I’d better go rescue the cat before Mrs. Foley starts hollering. Think I’ll swing by my office for a few minutes, too, if you don’t mind.”

Max followed him out the door. “You want me to baby-sit?”

“Does she need it?”

“It’s probably not a good idea to leave her alone yet.” Max lowered his voice. “From what I’ve learned, we were right to let her try to work things out on her own first. After a few days we might jog her memory along a little.”

And so the charade continues, but at what cost? J.T. wondered.

The door opened behind them.

“Anything you have to say about me can be said to me,” she told them, her fists propped on her hips. “In fact, I insist.”

J.T. smiled at the sight. Did she really think she looked tough? Not with her hair swirling around her shoulders like that and her cheeks glowing pink. And especially not with those all-too-feminine curves. Tough? Nope. Soft and maternal. Irresistible.

Irresistible? He swallowed against the significance of the word.

“I’m serious,” she said.

“Good thing I’m the one with the gun.”

Her eyes narrowed. She started down the stairs. “Look, Chief—”

“Stay put. I’ll explain,” Max said, as the telephone rang inside the house.

“Mrs. Foley,” J.T. muttered.

“I’ll handle her, too.”

“Handle?” Gina repeated, dangerously low.

“A figure of speech,” Max said.

“It better be.” J.T. gritted his teeth. He looked at Gina, wondering if she’d heard.

She stared at him, into him. The phone stopped ringing, leaving a stinging silence. He could try to back-pedal and end up looking more ridiculous than he already did, or he could ignore it, hoping she didn’t read too much into his spontaneous remark.

What was that old saying? Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool, than to open it and remove all doubt?

No doubt about it, he was a damned fool when it came to her. Always had been. Max didn’t help, either, by just standing there, grinning like an idiot.

The moment stretched like cheese on pizza, a long string of awkwardness, getting thinner and thinner.

“Take your time. I’ll be fine,” Gina said, kindly slicing through the tension.

Well, Mark, what would you say about that? he asked his brother silently. The damsel rescues the knight. Chivalry’s not dead. It’s just switched genders.