His To Protect Page 14

  “Some of the leagues play. Which one you interested in?”

  “Police league?” guessed Matt.

  She gave a shrug. “Schedule’s marked on the wall over there. Harry can show you.”

  When they finished their coffee, they strolled out toward the rental counter. Matt gave a friendly nod to the man with hairy arms leaning across the counter talking with a crony, but he didn’t stop to talk. They found the schedule and lifted the calendar pages. “Police league” was scrawled in heavy black ink on the third Tuesday of every month. A chill raced down Tracy’s spine.

  “Police again,” she whispered under her breath.

  “Let’s not talk here,” he said. “I think we’ve got what we came for.”

  Tracy didn’t see what he was so certain about, but trusted his judgment. Back in the car, he settled in his seat but didn’t start the engine.

  “More police,” she said with an odd sinking feeling.

  “What do you think’s going on?”

  “Ugly picture, isn’t it? Police shoe print in the place where you were held. Scott had a definite interest in the police bowling league, but he didn’t play. The gun that may have killed him is removed from evidence. And he gets killed on the day the rest of the SWAT team is busy elsewhere.”

  The full truth stared her in the face. “Police corruption. He really did know something, didn’t he? And he was killed because of it.” Her voice shook as she said it.

  Matt reached over, took her hand and warmed it in his. “I’d better take you back. It’s late and you need your sleep.”

  The compassion in his voice was almost her undoing. He suddenly slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. She felt the heat emanating from his strong body and wanted to curl up against it. Perhaps the danger they both knew they were in made her cling to him all the harder.

  The subtle scent of his aftershave mingled with his natural masculine scent and drew her to him. She wanted, needed his protection, even while the other, more logical side of her cautioned her against doing the wrong thing for all of them.

  His embrace steadied her and she pulled away, back to her side of the car, so she could fasten her seat belt. She still trembled with the realization that Scott’s finding out something someone didn’t want him to know had gotten him killed.

  She didn’t say any more. Finally, they pulled up the Bakers’ driveway. The growling Doberman barked his warning, until Matt got out and called the dog by name.

  “Quiet, Paolo, we’re friends.”

  The growls muted to a few gruff woofs.

  After checking on Jennifer in the other bed, Tracy fell gratefully into her comfortable twin bed. The old-fashioned furnishings inherited from Rene and Roland’s grandparents gave the room a cozy feel. The warmth and protection of family surrounded her in a way she’d longed for.

  She’d been left alone after Scott’s death; her own family had been sympathetic but they couldn’t help. Her parents struggled to keep their farm in Nebraska going, and she couldn’t saddle them with an asthmatic child. While her family would gladly welcome Jennifer and Tracy home, even their feed store in town couldn’t support two extra hungry mouths.

  More than that, Tracy couldn’t risk taking Jennifer so far away from doctors and treatments right now. Her sister in New York was a free spirit, struggling with running a new business. Not the time to lean on her. No, Tracy had to be self-reliant in this dilemma, counting only on friends to help. Friends like Matt.

  In spite of warning herself that she didn’t want to be with another cop, she couldn’t put aside the sensual heat between them. He knew it and she knew it. Images of him disrobing her and gazing at her body warmed her blood. And thoughts of his well-formed, muscular body without anything on made her insides turn somersaults.

  As the mental pictures rolled around in her mind, she surrendered to the emotional and physical exhaustion that claimed her. The night felt safe for the moment. The uncertainty of Matt’s forging ahead where he’d been warned off frightened her. If only things were different. But she had to let everything else wait for tomorrow.

  TRACY WAS AWARE of strong summer light thrusting around the edges of the old-fashioned window shade and curtains and of a soft knock on her door. She had a momentary panic when she looked over to see Jennifer’s bed empty, the covers tossed back.

  “What is it?” she cried out in a semihysterical voice.

  Rene slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. Seeing Tracy’s fright, she put up a hand.

  “Relax, Jennifer’s downstairs eating a bowl of cereal. But you have a visitor waiting for you.”

  Tracy sat up and shoved the covers back. “Who?”

  Rene paused to let Tracy get herself fully awake before telling her anything more. When Tracy had gotten into her robe and reached for her hairbrush, she added her second question.

  “What time is it, anyway?” From the strength of the sun, it had to be late.

  “I let you sleep in since you and Matt were out late last night,” Rene said. “It’s eight o’clock.”

  Tracy frowned. She was normally up at six-thirty to get herself ready and see that Jennifer was ready for day camp. But today was Friday, and camp was canceled today to celebrate tomorrow’s Fourth of July holiday, which fell on Saturday this year.

  She rummaged in the suitcase for clothes to put on. “So who’s waiting for me downstairs? Is Matt still here?”

  “Matt left for work, but he told me not to let you out of my sight without telling him where you’re going. And you’re not to go anywhere alone.”

  Rene’s evasive answers finally penetrated Tracy’s anxious mind, and she paused before stepping out into the hall to use the shared bathroom. She straightened up and looked at Rene, who cocked her head and glanced toward the door.

  “Prepare yourself for a shock. Jennifer’s grandfather is downstairs. Your next-door neighbor told him you’d left with Matt, so he called all the squad members until he reached us here.”

  The shock was even more than Tracy had expected. She nearly bolted toward the stairs, still dressed in pajamas and bathrobe, her hair disarranged. But she gripped the doorjamb instead.

  “You left him alone with Jennifer?” her voice was a high-pitched screech.

  “Calm down, it’s all right. Roland is in the kitchen eating breakfast with them. He won’t let the old man snatch her out from under you.”

  “Good God, my worst nightmare.” She cast Rene a pleading look. “I have to look decent when I see him. He probably already thinks I’m irresponsible, sleeping in like this.”

  No matter that she’d been out late the previous night trying to track Jennifer’s father’s killer. She had to hurry and get down there. Damn! What else could make matters worse?

  “Tell him I’ll be down as soon as I’m presentable. Tell him Jennifer has no camp today. Oh, damn!”

  “Relax,” said Rene. “Roland’s got him occupied. His shift doesn’t start till later. You’ve got time.”

  She didn’t feel that she had time. As she hurried through her morning preparations, the sinking feeling in her stomach only got worse. By the time she was dressed in crisp white slacks and a royal-blue short-sleeved top, her heart pounded in her chest. She took a deep breath at the top of the stairs and then held on to the railing as she walked down.

  Voices coming from the big kitchen at the back of the house told her everyone was congregated there. As her sandals squeaked on the veneer of the wooden hallway, she squinted at the bright light coming in through the large kitchen windows.

  A trim, gray-haired gentleman sat hunched over the tiled pine breakfast table, talking to Jennifer, who sat at an angle to him. At the other end of the table, Roland polished off bacon and eggs, while Rene poured coffee. Everyone stopped talking when Tracy walked through the doorway.

  “Good morning, Mr. Leigh. This is unexpected.”

  “Mrs. Meyer.”

  He got up to greet her, and she had a moment to
assess the look in his cunning eyes. They were light green, unlike Jennifer’s. As soon as he stood to face Tracy, all her defensiveness and territoriality rushed upon her, along with an adrenaline surge that made her ready to stand her ground.

  Andrew Leigh was a healthy-looking sixty-year-old, with short silver hair, a long Roman nose and a square jaw. His tanned face was weathered, but he was the kind of man who seemed used to getting what he wanted. His blue mesh golf shirt, with embroidered monogram on the pocket, under a navy sport jacket with casual tan trousers, somehow did not lessen the urbane look of a man of wealth and power. He seemed oddly incongruous in the homey kitchen, and he did nothing to change that impression.

  He shook her hand, but she didn’t miss the sharp examination of his eyes. His authoritarian stare sent tremors through her, which she did everything she could not to show.

  “Have you had coffee?” she asked to give herself time to get her bearings. Her eyes flew to Jennifer, who was peacefully eating her cereal.

  “Yes, thank you. Please sit down,” he ordered as if this were his office.

  She walked over to the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee, taking her time with the cream. Then she remained standing, leaning against the counter.

  “I see Jennifer has been entertaining you.”

  She tried to say it in a neutral voice. If she and Andrew Leigh were going to have a showdown, she’d be damned if it was going to be in front of Jennifer.

  “That she has,” responded Andrew. A hint of pleasure lit his otherwise hard facade. “She’s been telling me about day camp.”

  “Oh?”

  He looked up at Tracy, clearly resenting the fact that she remained standing. But it was too late for him to make an issue of it.

  “I was hoping to spend some time with Jennifer today, if that doesn’t interfere with your plans, of course.”

  She was sure he didn’t care whether it interfered or not. He was just negotiating. And he wouldn’t reveal his true reason for being here in front of everyone else.

  “Jennifer,” said Rene from the other side of the kitchen. “Why don’t you come help me make the beds upstairs while Tracy and your grandfather visit?”

  “All right”

  Jennifer slid off her chair and carried her bowl over to the sink, reaching over the edge to place it with the other dirty dishes.

  Tracy met Andrew’s eyes, feeling proud that Jennifer was behaving like the well-brought-up child she was. Tracy wanted Grandfather Leigh to witness for himself just how well she was raising his granddaughter.

  Her heart welled up as she saw Jennifer march out of the room to help Rene with chores, but she wouldn’t allow Mr. Leigh to see any sentimentality. He might misinterpret it for weakness. After everyone cleared out of the kitchen, she carried her coffee cup to the table and sat down.

  A feeling of dread crept along her spine. What if Jennifer’s grandfather were going to simply abduct his granddaughter? Tracy couldn’t bear just letting Jennifer be scooped up and taken away like that. She felt her eyes round as she faced the tycoon across the corner of the table. The thought that he would do something underhanded like that seemed monstrous. But with the many reports of kidnapping in the news over the past decade, it was a frightening prospect. Why else would he show up here unannounced?

  Instead of revealing her horrors, she faced him in a grim, businesslike manner. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

  He took a sip from his coffee mug and leaned back in the oak kitchen chair. His steady gaze was not as mean as she expected, although she sensed an underlying cunning. His tanned features were distinguished, the firm jaw decisive, as if he were not a man to be messed with. His fit body still looked capable of taking action, and she imagined that in younger years he had been quite appealing to women. The hardness engraved in the lines of his face seemed more from fighting for what he wanted than from the wrinkles of age. A formidable opponent. Tracy dug in her heels.

  He assessed her. “I came to see my granddaughter. I want to know how she is getting along with her illness.”

  Tracy jutted her chin forward. “You can see for yourself. I’ve written to you about the treatments and you have the doctors’ reports. Even the medical doctors have to admit that the chiropractic treatments have restored the nerves and that her breathing is better. Her lymphatic drainage seems to be clearing out the bacteria and debris faster now. She’s having fewer attacks, so that means her immune system is getting stronger.”

  For a minute, their eyes locked in challenge. Then Andrew cleared his throat and took another sip of coffee. “I know you insist that she is getting the best treatment here. I also know you cannot expect to support a child now that you’ve left your employment.”

  Tracy straightened her spine, seeing red. “I left a very demanding job in a publishing company so that I could take care of Jennifer. She is my greatest and only responsibility.”

  His coffee mug banged down on the tile in the table surface. “She is my granddaughter and should be my responsibility.”

  Tracy swallowed, trying to even her temper. “I know how you must feel. And I’m sure Jennifer wants to get to know her grandfather. But if you care about her, you will not uproot her from all that is familiar to her here.”

  She leaned forward, begging not for herself, but for Jennifer.

  “Can’t you see? Her father died last year. We’re just now establishing a life routine that is healthy for her. She likes her school. The teachers love her, and she has friends there.”

  She stopped her litany before she brought up her tutor. It would only add fuel to Andrew Leigh’s arguments that the caring tutor was herself now missing.

  Thoughts of Matt’s easy relationship with Jennifer also crossed her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the reassuring feeling to wash over her. When Matt had been with them at dinner on their porch the other night, it had been like a dream. She only now realized how much she was beginning to want that dream to come true. She frowned and opened her eyes.

  That dream included Jennifer, and she wasn’t about to let this man rip her stepdaughter from her home, not if she could help it.

  “I certainly would never dream of trying to keep you from seeing her. Scott was perhaps at fault for not making a greater effort to make sure you saw her. I can’t answer for that.”

  A glower darkened Andrew’s face. “Scott Meyer was at fault for a great many things.”

  The anger underlying his words surprised her, and she blinked. For a moment, she could think of nothing to say.

  “Well, if your argument is with Scott, it’s too late to do anything about it. But please don’t equate what he did with what I’m doing.”

  The shadows slid across Andrew’s face as he seemed to weigh her words. She sensed a sharp mind there, a lawyer’s mind, but she didn’t trust him. Suddenly, Andrew looked away as if dealing with some private battle. He sipped his coffee, thinking. When he brought his gaze back to Tracy, he seemed to have gathered his thoughts.

  “I appreciate what you’ve done for Jennifer. But these are things I should have done for her myself. I have few regrets, Mrs. Meyer, and I’m determined to see that this doesn’t become one of them.” He lowered his gaze almost with a trace of humility. “I didn’t have time for my daughters when they were young. Now it’s too late....”

  Surprised at this sudden exposure of raw feeling, Tracy was taken aback. They sat quietly for a moment, awkwardly, as the sun bathed them with its light. Andrew Leigh must miss Jennifer’s mother very much. Was that why he wanted Jennifer now?

  “I’m sorry,” she managed to say slowly. “But feeling as you do, surely you must realize how attached I’ve become to Jennifer.” She decided to risk some of the truth. “Scott wasn’t home very much. His job was demanding, as well. I spent every evening with her and all of the weekends when he was off doing training. I could never replace her real mother. But we’ve become very close. Can you understand that?”

  His jaw
hardened, and the green eyes came back to penetrate hers. Lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t really answer her question. “Jennifer is the only family I have now. I’m the only one who can make sure she has everything she needs.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Appealing to reason hadn’t worked, and Tracy spit out her defense now, ready to fight. “I may not be as wealthy as you are, but I can give her love. I was a little girl myself once, and I can be a positive role model for her. If you were a reasonable man, Mr. Leigh, you’d see it’s possible to share her. Why can’t we both be family to her? She needs as much love as possible.”

  His own face reddened with anger now, and Tracy realized she’d lost all chance of negotiating.

  “If I leave her here,” he boomed, “I can’t oversee her medical care. I can’t watch her grow up. If I take her, I can send her to the best schools, give her music lessons or whatever she wants. Everything I have will be at her fingertips.”

  Feeling tears beneath her eyelids, Tracy could no longer remain sitting in the chair. She stood up, hands on hips, backing up to the counter.

  “My little house is not a palace. But it’s clean and comfortable. I’m planning to turn the upstairs den into an office to work at home.” As soon as she could afford a computer, she almost added. But she didn’t want to admit to her dismal financial situation in front of him.

  No matter what she wanted to admit, he seemed to realize the truth of the matter. He brushed her efforts away with a flick of his manicured hand.

  “Starting a home business will hardly support a child with Jennifer’s needs. You’ll burn out in no time. No, Jennifer will get what she needs with me.”

  “How do you know what she needs?”

  They glared at each other, and Tracy gritted her teeth. She tried to think frantically of what to do. Surely Andrew couldn’t just whisk Jennifer away? Or could he? She would need to obtain a lawyer right away. And that meant legal fees. She tried to stifle her inward groan. She tried not to believe the man in front of her could be a kidnapper.