Guarding Camille. Judy Christenberry

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      “You’ll come up with something convincing, Mom.”

      “Okay, be here at seven tomorrow. Oh, and wear a suit.”

      After his mother hung up, Jake muttered, “Damn. A suit.” He’d hardly had to wear a suit in the past six months with Camille. He’d gotten quite used to jeans.

      “A suit?” Camille asked from the doorway, a small tremor in her voice. “Are we moving? Going public?”

      “Nope. My mother is the one demanding the suit. She’s even more persuasive than the FBI.”

      “Oh.”

      He watched her hazel eyes darken with concern. “What is it?”

      “I suppose Max will keep an eye on us here?”

      Max Jamison was a local private investigator who used to work on the Austin police force with Jake’s childhood friend, Michael Lord. When Jake had asked Michael who he could trust to help him out with Camille, Michael had suggested Max. Both Max and Michael, along with Michael’s brother, Garrett, had been working with Jake ever since.

      “Nope. Max’ll be at the house. And so will you.”

      Nothing Camille had gone through since Jake first met her had come even close to producing the slack-jawed, stunned expression that was on her face now.

      “I’ll be where?” she managed to ask.

      “You’ll be at my mother’s. We’re having a family dinner.”

      “I can’t do that. I’m not family.” She succeeded in wiping all emotion from her face, giving him a blank stare.

      Suddenly, several things fell into place for Jake. Camille had never attempted to contact anyone since she’d been in hiding, and she had told Jake that if anything happened to her, she wanted her baby adopted.

      “You don’t have any family, do you?” he said. He’d never asked her personal questions. It was his way of keeping his distance. He’d read her file, of course, so he knew her parents were dead, but he’d figured she must have relatives somewhere. Now he realized how very alone she must be.

      She blinked several times but maintained her stoic expression. “I can’t go to the dinner.”

      “I’m not leaving you here alone. We don’t know where Vince is, but we know he suspects you’re in the area. Do you want to take that chance?” Dirty pool, he knew, threatening her with her safety, but whatever worked.

      “No! But—but surely Max knows someone else who could keep an eye on me.”

      “Nope. You’re coming with me. The baby can stay in the nursery at Mom’s. There’ll be extra security. He’ll be perfectly safe.”

      “Why don’t you ever call him by his name? Do you dislike it?”

      Her change of subject blindsided him. “Uh, I—I haven’t gotten used to it.” The truth was, he’d thought keeping the baby anonymous, nameless, would wipe out the memory of his birth, the warmth that had filled Jake when both he and Camille had held her son for the first time.

      Damn it, this was his job. Nothing more.

      Camille interrupted his thoughts. “I named him after you and my father, two men I admire.” He opened his mouth to protest, and she held up her hand. “I know, I know, you’re just doing your job.” Then she smiled, a welcome change from the serious expression she usually wore. “Maybe Jamie will learn dedication to his work from you, if nothing else.”

      She turned away as if to leave the room.

      “Do you believe your parents’ death was accidental?” he asked abruptly.

      She stopped but kept her back to him. “Yes. A drunk driver crashed into them, killing them both instantly. The drunk walked away from the crash with bruises. But it happened over a year ago. I hadn’t even met Vince then.”

      Which, of course, explained Camille’s vulnerability to Vincent Eckart. She’d met him only a couple of months after her parents’ death. Jake wasn’t sure he believed their death was an unconnected accident. Vince Eckart was amoral and wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate anyone in his way. But saying that to Camille now would serve no purpose.

      “No relatives at all?” he asked, moving silently to take her by the shoulders and turn her around. He figured the shocked look on her face was caused by his touching her. He avoided physical contact even more than personal questions.

      “No relatives,” she said quietly, keeping her gaze focused on her feet.

      In an attempt to lighten the moment, he said, “Maybe I should loan you some of mine. They seem to be increasing at a rapid rate.”

      “What do you mean?” she asked.

      “Every one of my siblings has married or paired off in the past year. I told you about them all. Then there’s Connor O’Hara, my…cousin. And it’ll only be a matter of time before babies start making an appearance.”

      “Be grateful you have family, Jake,” she ordered, her voice firm. “They’re important.”

      “We’ll see if you still feel the same way tomorrow night.”

      “I will. But I won’t be going to the party.”

      “Yes, you will,” he told her, his voice firm. She had no choice.

      “No, I won’t.”

      “Why not?” he demanded, irritation filling him. What was wrong with her? Didn’t she think his family was good enough? That thought was laughable. The Maitlands were sought out by everyone.

      “Because I don’t have anything to wear.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      JAKE STARED AT HER. He’d expected fear, or something just as serious, to be the reason for her reluctance. But fashion?

      Suddenly he felt as if he’d been hibernating for the past six months. Camille had been wearing maternity clothes she’d purchased just before he’d brought her to Texas. She hadn’t had a lot, but never once had she complained.

      Since she’d had the baby, she’d continued to wear some of her maternity shirts. He’d noticed a pair of slacks that he supposed she’d worn before her pregnancy. But her wardrobe was definitely limited.

      “Why didn’t you say something?” he demanded, frowning fiercely.

      Her eyes rounded in surprise. “I haven’t had a great need for a cocktail dress, Jake.”

      “But you’ve needed other things, haven’t you? My sisters go shopping all the time. You haven’t had anything new in six months.” He should have thought of this before.

      “Jake, contrary to popular belief, a woman doesn’t have to shop every day to be happy. Besides, your sister Abby brought me a catalog when I was in the hospital and I ordered СКАЧАТЬ