It seemed the least he could do. A man didn’t abandon his wife when she needed him, even if she’d abandoned him first.
Casey rested her chin on her fist. It took all his self-control not to reach out and touch her cheek.
“Let’s be honest,” she said.
“I’ve never been anything else.”
“You don’t want to stay,” she said. “You feel obligated. You hate being here, hate being around anything that reminds you of babies. I can read you like a book, Jack. You’re going to make us both miserable.”
He couldn’t claim otherwise, so he ignored her point. “Pretend I’m some hired hand who’s here to do a job. Then you won’t care whether I go gaga over nursery stuff.”
“No.”
“That’s it? Just plain no?”
“Try this: nyet, nein, no way. Is that clear enough?”
He could be just as stubborn as she. “I’m not leaving until we wrap this up.”
“I’ll get a restraining order.” Casey folded her arms. “Well?”
Jack didn’t think she’d do it but he knew better than to push her. “Is that what you really want? You’re so eager to get rid of me you’re willing to risk having this guy keep bugging you?”
Her lips formed a thin, stubborn line. Finally she said, “I don’t even think it’s a good idea for you to stay a day or two.”
“Casey!” She was so stubborn, she made mules look compliant. Jack came very close to saying so.
“I’ll let you stay tonight because it’s getting late, but that’s all. Really, the more I think about it, the more I believe it’s probably just a neighbor’s kid,” she told him. “Nothing’s been stolen or damaged except for that mailbox, which might not even be connected. It’s not that serious. I overreacted.”
An assault on a pregnant woman seemed serious enough to Jack, but he’d run out of arguments. Before he could decide how to proceed, his cell phone rang.
Excusing himself, he answered. “Arnett.”
“Jack? It’s Mike.” His partner sounded frazzled. “I’ve got to run up to San Francisco for a couple of days.” He mentioned a client there who needed a security upgrade. “The problem is, I’ve got an appointment Monday with Paul Mendez. You remember him?”
“Sure.” Paul planned to retire in another month from the Denver police department. He’d expressed interest in joining Men at Arms as a partner, and they could certainly use one.
They had a growing staff of guards assigned to various clients, and added other employees as needed, sometimes on a temporary basis. A manager, an administrative assistant and an accountant handled the paperwork. The partners themselves planned and supervised all major operations, as well as trouble-shooting to keep their clients happy.
“Well, he’s going to be in town and wants to go over the financial details. Since you’re back, I was hoping you could take care of it.”
“I’m not exactly back,” Jack admitted. Casey, who’d carried their empty cups to the sink, glanced at him wryly.
“Where are you?”
“Tennessee. A prowler assaulted Casey on her property.” He saw no point in mentioning the pregnancy.
“I see.” He probably didn’t, though. A twice-divorced workaholic, Mike always put business ahead of family. “We really ought to attend to this. We both like Paul and it helps that he’s bilingual.” An increasing amount of their business involved Spanish-speaking clients.
Jack’s gut instinct told him to fight harder to resolve this case, but he did have an obligation to his company. Also, Casey was standing right there mouthing the word, “Go!”
He shook his head.
“Restraining order!” she hissed.
For heaven’s sake, why fight her? If she didn’t want him, he had no business forcing his company on her.
“Okay,” he said into the phone. “I’ll catch a plane tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I knew I….” The phone went dead.
Jack frowned. “It cut off.”
“Happens all the time around here,” Casey replied. “My service provider claims I live in a dead spot.”
His gut urged Jack to stay to protect this woman. And this baby, even though he hadn’t asked for it. But he’d be kidding himself if he imagined that sticking around would make any difference to their future.
Maybe she was right that she’d overreacted. After all, she hadn’t received any threats. Most likely some bum seeking shelter had panicked when she aimed a camera at him.
“All right,” he conceded grimly. “Tomorrow morning, I’m out of here.”
“We’ll both be a lot happier,” Casey said.
Jack seriously doubted it.
Casey went to bed early and slept deeply, lulled by maternal hormones. About 3:00 a.m., she awoke with an urgent need to use the bathroom.
She slipped out into the hallway in her cotton sleep shirt. After using the facilities, she couldn’t resist peeking into the living room, where Jack slept on the opened couch.
Moonlight through the window highlighted the length of his body beneath the quilt and played across his ruffled hair. The room filled with his subtle presence and the murmur of his breathing.
Her body burned with the memory of sleeping beside him, feeling his legs tangle with hers and his arm brush across her breasts. Sometimes they’d awakened, not even knowing what hour it was, and sleepily caressed each other until passion flamed.
Yet, despite their years together, he seemed exotic, as if she’d discovered a lion dozing in the living room. Jack came from a different world, one that she’d never fully understood. Although she knew his parents had died and that he’d spent his adolescence in foster homes, he disliked discussing the past.
Why should the sight of a nursery or the sound of a music box make a man glower? To Casey, those things spoke of happiness and innocence. They took her back to a simpler time when she’d been loved without reserve and when the future held unlimited possibilities.
It saddened her to realize the two of them lacked common ground. She’d loved Jack more than she would have believed possible, and she’d longed for their marriage to work. But it was no use hanging onto something that couldn’t be fixed.
As she headed back to bed, she realized her mind was racing with memories. She needed to calm herself before falling asleep.
If she’d been alone, she might have played a soothing CD, but that would disturb Jack. Instead, she went into the nursery and turned on a table lamp.
The cheerful radiance surrounded Casey like a hug. She glanced up at the books she’d chosen for the shelf and picked an old favorite, the original The Hundred and One Dalmatians by Dodie Smith.
From a toy chest that her father had polished lovingly, she removed the fuzzy Dalmatian dogs she’d accumulated as a child and arranged them on the carpet. The worn fur only made them more appealing, reminding her of hours spent cuddling them as she invented stories.
“Hey, you guys,” she said softly. It seemed to her