As if to punctuate this fact, his eyes turned the shade of a stormy azure sea, brimming with heartbreaking desperation. Desperation she’d seen too often in her mother’s eyes while growing up.
“Please?” The whispered plea, reverberating with a father’s love and a proud man’s struggle with humility, twisted inside her.
“I’ll think about it.”
But she knew she’d lost.
The man behind her quickened his pace. She heard his ragged breathing, smelled his fetid breath. She tried to run, but her mother held on to her feet, sobbing. “Help me, Libby. I don’t know what to do!”
“I’m going to get you, bitch,” her pursuer growled from inches behind her. But she couldn’t see him. It was dark. So dark.
His footsteps pounded on the stairs. Louder. Louder.
“Libby!”
She woke with a gasp and jackknifed up in her bed.
But the pounding continued. She swept a glance around her dim bedroom, orienting herself. Jewel slept draped over her legs, a feline deadweight. Seven-oh-three glowed from her bedside clock. She’d only been dreaming about her stalker, but the person beating on her front door was real.
“Come on, Lib! Open up!”
Cal. He may have stayed away yesterday, given her a little room to think, but danged if he wasn’t back, bright and early, barely thirty-six hours later—no doubt to demand an answer. Honestly, she was surprised he’d given her breathing room all of Friday rather than pressing her for a commitment last night.
Groaning, she scooted Jewel aside and dragged herself from her warm covers. She hurried to the door before Cal’s yelling woke the neighbors.
“Do you know what time it is?” she snapped, still edgy from her nightmare. She poked her arms in the robe she’d snatched from the foot of the bed and finger-combed her hair with jerky swipes.
He quirked an irreverent grin that shot a sizzle straight to her core. “And good morning to you, too, sunshine.”
Morning light cast his face in a golden glow, and his tight T-shirt delineated every muscle in his chest and arms. There should be a law against him looking so delicious at this hour. Grumbling, Libby rubbed her sleep-blurred eyes. “Geez, Walters! Roosters aren’t even up yet.”
She tried to slam the door on Cal, but he caught it with his boot toe. Tugging her robe closed at the throat, she frowned. “Go away! Saturdays are for sleep.”
“Not this Saturday. This is my weekend with Ally, and you and I are going to pick her up. So go get dressed and I’ll start some coffee.”
“Why?”
“Because you look like you could use a strong cup.”
She flashed him a dark scowl. “I mean, why am I going with you to get Ally?”
“Simple. I want you to see for yourself the conditions she lives in.”
Libby shuddered. She didn’t need to see. Ever since Cal had described Ally’s living conditions, she’d replayed memories of her youth, of surviving similar circumstances. “Forget it. I’m not going. Damn it, Cal! I haven’t even agreed to your crazy marriage plan.”
“But you’ve thought about it, right? Thought about what it would mean to Ally?”
“Oh, I thought about it, all right. I spent most of the night rehashing all the reasons why a fake marriage would be a mistake.” Libby marched toward the kitchen, needing something to do with her hands more than she needed the hot coffee she started.
“Not fake, Lib. The marriage would be very real.” He stepped up behind her, close enough for her to smell the crisp scent of his deodorant soap over the rich aroma of coffee grounds. The tantalizing smell brought to mind thoughts of Cal in his morning shower.
“So…if you haven’t made up your mind, then I still have a shot at convincing you?”
Libby gritted her teeth as she scooped coffee out of the canister into the filter basket. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the angel-sweet face of Cal’s daughter.
Can you tell her no?
Cal was right. She knew how it felt to be neglected, how lonely and frightened Ally had to be.
When sleep had finally come last night, Cal’s voice had become her mother’s. An echo of the past. Memories she couldn’t outrun.
You have to help me, honey. I can’t do it alone.
You’ve ruined everything, Libby! How could you do this to me?
She flinched when Cal touched her arm and stopped her from dumping another load of coffee.
“Just how strong do you intend to make that?” Amusement laced his tone and chafed her raw nerves.
When he took the scoop from her hand, she realized she’d been dumping grounds into the filter without measuring. Irritated by her inattention, she flipped the top down on the machine and jabbed the start button. “I can’t marry you. I can refer you to people who will help with Ally’s situation, but I—”
“No!” Cal touched a finger to her lips to halt her argument. Even that mild contact made Libby’s heart jump, and the spike of adrenaline left her trembling.
Geez, that dream had left her jittery, reviving the terror she’d known on the stairs. The stairs…
Libby’s thoughts snagged on the memory. What was she thinking? How could she consider bringing Cal and his daughter into her life while she was being stalked?
She schooled her features as Cal leaned toward her, his arm braced on the counter.
“Go with me this morning and see for yourself what I’m talking about. See for yourself how much she needs our help.”
“It’s not that I don’t care what happens to Ally—I do! The thing is…I’m embroiled in a touchy situation.”
Cal raised one dark eyebrow. “What kind of situation? Are you involved with someone else?”
She sighed. “No, it’s nothing like that. I…someone is watching me. Sending me letters. Trying to frighten me.”
Cal drew himself to his full, impressive height. “Watching you? Like a stalker?”
Libby stalled, turning to pour a cup of coffee. She didn’t want to sound like an alarmist. And she really didn’t want Cal meddling in her affairs, which she was certain he would do if he knew the whole truth. “He’s more of an annoyance than anything. It’s no big deal, but I can’t justify bringing you or Ally into the mix right now.”
She gazed at him over the rim of her mug as she sipped, trying to act as unconcerned about the stalker as she claimed.
A dark shadow crossed Cal’s face. “The other night in the garage… Is that what had you spooked?”
She nodded and glanced away from his incisive stare. “I thought I heard him following me.”
“What do the cops say about this? You have reported this guy to the police, right?”
She snorted. “You sound like Stan. Of course I’ve called the cops. As soon as you left Thursday night, I called, and they came to take my statement about his latest ploy. They’re working on it, and they’ll catch him. Soon.”
Please, God. Her nerves couldn’t handle much more of the creep’s scare tactics.
“Has he ever hurt you? Do you think he’s dangerous?”
I’m gonna get you, bitch. She suppressed a shudder.
“No.” Maybe. “Look, I know his type. Hateful letters are part and parcel