Cal caught her hand and held her cold, trembling fingers in the warm fold of his own.

The heat and strength in his grasp were almost enough to drive away the doubts chilling her to the marrow. His grip felt safe. Steady. Solid.

But the last time she’d needed him to be there for her, he’d abandoned her. Shattered her faith. Broken her heart.

The judge pronounced them man and wife and turned to Cal with a grin. “You may kiss your bride.”

Libby’s stomach pitched.

No way.

Cal had accepted her terms. He’d agreed to keep things strictly hands-off. He’d promised. So he wouldn’t…he couldn’t…he—cupped her cheek in his palm and tipped her chin up.

Libby gawked at him, her heart thumping.

His piercing gaze zeroed in on her mouth like a heat-seeking missile. And ka-boom.

To Love, Honor and Defend
Beth Cornelison

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BETH CORNELISON

started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.

Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honors for her work, including the coveted Golden Heart Award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, traveling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.

She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 52505, Shreveport, LA 71135-2505 or visit her Web site at www.bethcornelison.com.

This one is for Jeffery—who has big dreams

of his own. You can achieve anything in life with faith,

a firm foundation, a good attitude and

dogged perseverance. I love you!

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Lt. J. E. Via, retired Investigator and Major Case Supervisor for the Criminal Investigation Division of the Ouachita Parish Sheriff Department, for answering my many questions and letting me know about Louisiana Act 894, which will allow Cal a happier ending!

To Christy Hughes, sales manager for Kone, Inc., for her helpful information about elevators.

To Anna Destefano and Winnie Griggs, my dear friends and critique partners on this book.

To Lucienne Diver, my wonderful agent, for her assistance, friendship and unflagging support through the years.

To Paul, for putting up with this zany writer while I followed my dream.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Prologue

“All rise. The Honorable Judge Thomas Fitzpatrick presiding.”

Showtime.

Cal Walters shoved stiffly to his feet. He knew what was coming—two years in prison before he was eligible for parole.

Tension vibrated in the silent courtroom and through Cal’s taut muscles as he waited for the judge to rule on the plea agreement. He glanced behind him, where the guys from his fire station had come out in a show of support. His fellow firefighters had been at the bar with him the night he’d spotted David Ralston in the back hall using a woman as a punching bag. They’d stood with him as he’d come to the woman’s defense.

And his buddies had peeled him off Ralston when his defense of the woman had turned into something more, when the past and present had blurred and Cal had gone a little crazy.

He drew a deep, fortifying breath as Fitzpatrick settled at the bench.

Maybe, just maybe, the judge would agree that the deal the district attorney’s office had offered was unreasonable. Maybe the judge wouldn’t make him serve time once he considered the circumstances surrounding that bar fight.

Sure. And maybe Assistant D.A. Libby Hopkins’s presence in the courtroom meant she still had feelings for him and wanted to pick up where they’d left off three years ago.

In your dreams.

Regret sliced through him, sharp and merciless.

“Counsel, I’ve reviewed the plea agreement reached in this matter.” Judge Fitzpatrick shuffled his papers then addressed the lead prosecutor. “Mr. Moore, do you have anything that needs attention before I make my ruling?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Cal turned, staring past the tall, bearded assistant D.A.

When his gaze locked on the brunette in the first row of the gallery, his gut rolled. Libby stood with her back rigid, buttoned down in her pinstriped suit. She’d slicked her shiny chestnut hair into a neat bun. Her cool, crisp courtroom dress didn’t fool him. He remembered the feel of that silky mane, unbound and tumbled around him during the hottest sex he’d ever had. Even now the memory made his body ache and pulse, his heart clench. They’d shared something special. Something intense.

Something he’d ended after a precious few months to marry a former girlfriend. Renee had discovered, weeks after they’d parted company and he’d later met Libby, that she was carrying his child. Cal wanted his baby to have his name, but giving Libby up had left a hole in his heart.

Seeing Libby walk into the courtroom today had been bittersweet. She hadn’t been a member of the prosecution team, but that didn’t allay his suspicions about her contributions to his lynching. Watching her repeatedly confer with the prosecution made it clear where Libby’s loyalties lay.

“Mr. Walters, do you understand the terms of this plea and accept them without coercion or duress?”

Hell, no! I don’t understand why any of this has happened, how my life could have gotten so far off track.

Cal’s chest contracted, filled with a dull ache. If he went to prison, he wouldn’t see his daughter for months. Two-year-old Ally meant the world to him. He’d given up Libby to be Ally’s father, and now he felt his baby girl slipping away, too. He choked back the bitter frustration and defeat and nodded solemnly. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“You understand that your attorney has asked that you be allowed the provisions of Act 894? That if you maintain a clean record for five years after serving your full sentence that these charges will be expunged from your record?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” He was grateful for that ray of hope in this nightmare.

“Would you like to address the court before I rule on this plea agreement?” Judge Fitzpatrick asked.

“Yes, Your Honor.” Cal knew that what he had to say wouldn’t make a bean’s difference. He’d pleaded his case to his attorney, to the police, to Renee. So why repeat himself now? Libby lifted her dark brown eyes to his at that moment, and he knew. He was appealing to her. Maybe she could dismiss all they’d shared, but their months together meant something to him.

“I deeply regret everything that has happened. If I could change things, I would. Many people have been hurt by my actions, and for that I’m sorry.”

Libby shifted her weight, her hard, all-business facade cracking. She knew he was addressing her, their history. He could see it in the flash of vulnerability and sadness that drifted over her face. Then she glanced to the spot behind him where Renee sat, and Libby’s sadness morphed into something hard-edged, cold. And vengeful?

Cal’s pulse jumped. He knew he’d hurt her when he’d married Renee, but he never imagined Libby would retaliate. Had Libby played a part, behind the scenes, in the D.A. office’s tough negotiations on his plea?

A chill snaked through him. The glint of anger and distrust in Libby’s glare was unmistakable. The acid bite of betrayal gnawed inside him. Didn’t she know how it had killed him to leave her? Didn’t she understand why he’d made the choices he had?

Cal’s attorney cleared his throat, and Cal realized he’d lapsed into an awkward silence. His muscles tense, he tore his gaze away from Libby and addressed the judge again.

“My father raised me to respect and defend women.” He took a slow breath to keep the pain of Libby’s injustice out of his voice. He saw the stiff penalty the prosecution had demanded in a new light, and his gut twisted. “I couldn’t sit back and watch Ralston hitting a lady.” Cal took a deep breath and shook his head. “As a firefighter, my job is to protect and save lives. Ms. Dillingham was in danger, so I stepped in. I regret crossing the line with Ralston, but in the same situation, I would still defend any woman.”

Judge Fitzpatrick arched a bushy eyebrow. “Anything else?”

Cal clenched his teeth, glanced at Libby again. “No, sir.”

The judge unfolded the document in front of him and read, “Calvin Rutledge Walters, in accordance with the plea agreement reached with the Lagniappe, Louisiana, District Attorney’s office, this court accepts your guilty plea to the charge of aggravated battery and sentences you to serve no less than two years and no more than five years in the parish correctional institution.”

Cal’s knees almost buckled, but he stood firm by sheer will.

He couldn’t be certain, but Cal would have sworn Libby flinched when the gavel slammed down, sealing his fate. Yet while the bailiff snapped handcuffs on his wrists, she congratulated her colleagues on a job well done.

Renee marched up and shot him a disgusted look. “I’ll be filing for divorce tomorrow. I should’ve done it long ago.”

“Fine,” he said, still watching Libby revel. “As long as you let me see Ally. You can’t keep me away from my daughter.”

Renee snorted. “Watch me. You’re hardly in a position to fight for custody.”

A tremor twisted through Cal as he met Renee’s sneer. What if he lost his rights to see Ally while he was locked away? Ally was all he had left.

The cold steel handcuffs jerked his arms up as the bailiff led him out of the courtroom. Cal found Libby again as he shuffled toward the door. He gritted his teeth and kept an icy stare pinned on the woman he’d once believed he loved. Libby Hopkins had betrayed everything they’d once shared. He had no doubt she’d encouraged her colleagues’ merciless dealings with him. Her vindictive glare confirmed that she’d sought revenge on him for her broken heart.

She’d helped destroy his life.

Chapter 1

Two years later

Another letter. Her stalker was nothing if not persistent.

Libby Hopkins’s hands shook as she stared down at the telltale blue envelope. Dread twisted her stomach, but perverse curiosity, a need to know what she was dealing with made her open the letter and read.

To the bitch who ruined my life,

That was an ugly blue suit you wore yesterday. Made you look like a man. Under those suits, I bet you have a hot body. You should dress to show off your assets. Better yet, you should stay home, where a woman belongs, and stop playing the tough lawyer. Do you get a thrill destroying people’s lives? You ruined my life, but I’ll have the last laugh. When you least expect it.

Shuddering, she crunched the letter in her hand. He knew what she’d worn to court yesterday. He was watching her.

“Libby?”

She gasped, and the letter fluttered to the floor. Clapping a hand over her racing heart, she turned toward her office door and flashed an embarrassed grin at her colleague from the D.A.’s office.

“God, Stan, you scared the daylights out of me.” She stooped to retrieve the letter and tossed it on her desk. “Try to make more noise when you sneak up on someone.”

Stan Moore grinned and shoved his hands into his pressed and pleated khakis. “Like wear a cowbell maybe?”

She dropped into her chair. “There’s an interesting idea. You could start a Lagniappe fashion trend.”

Stan scratched his ear and grimaced. “I’ll pass, thanks.” He nodded toward the letter. “So what had you so engrossed that you didn’t hear me sneaking up? Something break in the Chandler trial?”

Libby shook her head. “See for yourself. That’s the fifth one I’ve gotten. Same handwriting, same stationery, same language. I’m beginning to take this guy seriously. I admit, I’m spooked.”

Frowning, Stan took the letter from the desk and read. “Have you reported this to the police?”

“Yeah. A couple weeks ago. They can’t tell me much. No prints on the letters, and the stationery is pretty generic.”

He grunted. “And this one? You called it in yet?”

“Not yet.” Libby rubbed her temple. “I’ve been so tied up with the Chandler case, I hadn’t realized how out of hand this guy had gotten. I’ve had hate mail before—people letting off steam. No real substance. But this guy…” Libby bit down on her bottom lip as she thought back to the earlier letters. “His threats are escalating.”

Stan tossed the letter onto her desk. “This is way beyond venting steam, Lib.”

She shivered. “Yeah. I know.”

“So…” He lifted the receiver of her desk phone and waved it at her. “Shall I report this letter or will you?”

Sighing, she pried the phone from his hand. “I’ll call it in. But not now. I’m exhausted. Too tired to deal with police questions and protocol.” She hung up the receiver, and Stan frowned. “When I get home. I promise. First, I just want a hot bath and a couple aspirin.”

Pushing away from her desk, she collected her briefcase and brushed past him. Stan turned as she marched toward the door and continued glaring his disapproval. “You taking home the brief I gave you on the Browning case?”

She raised her overstuffed briefcase and nodded. “Got it. I’ll go over it tonight and get back with you in the morning.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. If I know you, you’ll put it first and forget about calling the cops.”

Her shoulders drooped. “I won’t forget.”

“Promise me. ’Cause I will call if you don’t. This guy sounds serious, and you know how dangerous he could be.”

She shuddered. Yeah, she knew. The wackos she’d helped put away never ceased to amaze her with their capacity for evil.

“I’ll call. I swear.” She gave Stan an affectionate pat on the shoulder then headed out to the long, dim hall.

“Let me at least walk you out to your car.” Stan kept pace beside her.

She grinned and shook her head. “No need. I’ve got Old Peppy with me.” She held up the pepper spray on her key chain. “And I’m parked in the garage. Security’s got cameras there. I’ll be fine. Go back to whatever’s got you here burning the midnight oil.”

Stan hesitated, but finally shrugged and waved her off. “Just be careful.”

“Always am.” Despite her bone-deep weariness, she headed toward the elevator with a brisk stride, her head high and her eyes scanning her surroundings. As usual, she and Stan weren’t the only ones working late, but the majority of the offices along the spartan corridor were already dark and empty. Her low-heeled pumps clicked on the linoleum floor, the sound reverberating in the deserted hall. Libby had walked this hallway at night for years. Yet tonight, with Stan’s warnings fresh in her ears and the newest letter from her stalker tugging at her thoughts, the isolated corridor seemed gloomy. Unsettling. The spiders-on-your-skin feeling of having someone unseen watching you.

Libby jabbed the elevator call button with more force than needed, irked that she let herself get spooked so easily. Just the same, she repositioned her keys so the pepper spray was more accessible and ready with the flick of a finger.

She pulled in a cleansing breath while she waited for the elevator and mentally reviewed her schedule for tomorrow. In addition to the Browning hearing, she had depositions for the Gulliver case and motions to file with the Chandler case. Another twelve-hour day at least.

The elevator rumbled and groaned in the shaft, but the doors never opened. Hadn’t Sally Hickson spent two hours stuck in the elevator last week?

Libby gave the elevator doors one last withering glance before she headed for the stairs. The exercise would be good for her. By working late, she’d missed her three-nights-a-week kickboxing class twice this week already.

The emergency exit door clanged closed behind her as she trudged down the first of twelve flights of stairs, lugging her overburdened briefcase. Until the Chandler case was settled, she’d probably be missing a lot more than just aerobics classes. Like a personal life.

When was the last time she’d gone to dinner with a friend? If she couldn’t remember, it had been too long. And forget about dating. A relationship took too much time and energy. She didn’t need another demand on her day.

Or another broken heart. Libby’s steps faltered. Where had that thought come from?

Easy. Her assistant Helen’s little aside in their morning meeting that Cal Walters was out on parole.

Cal Walters. The memory of his laserlike blue eyes drilling into her from across the courtroom still haunted her. He hated her. He’d made that much clear with his icy glare. But why?

So much history…

Squaring her shoulders, she plodded on down the steps, shaking off the melancholy that settled over her whenever she thought about Cal. No point dredging up the if onlys.

As she reached the ninth floor, Libby heard a door a few floors above her open and close. She grinned wryly. Someone else had tired of waiting on the decrepit elevator.

The heavy, low-pitched thud of a man’s footsteps joined the clack of her own shoes on the concrete steps. An uneasy jitter crawled up her spine. She was so isolated in the stairwell….

She pushed the nagging sensation aside, blaming Stan for making her too jumpy. Pausing at the seventh floor, she shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other. When she stopped, the heavier footsteps fell silent, too.

Libby furrowed her brow. Odd.

She started down the next flight. The man’s footsteps resumed.

A prick of alarm nudged her to a faster pace. The person behind her matched her speed.

Don’t panic. Clamping down on the swirl of jitters that skittered through her, she leaned over the railing to look up. “Stan? Is that you?”

No answer.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

Silence.

She slowly took a few more steps. The thuds echoed her progress, but she saw no one.

“You’re not funny, Stan!” She picked up her pace, wishing she’d accepted his offer of an escort.

The rasp of labored breathing wheezed behind her, growing louder—the ominous hiss of a viper waiting to strike.

Libby took the steps as quickly as she could without tripping. Her briefcase slapped her legs. Her heartbeat matched the frantic rhythm of her feet. Her pursuer kept time.

“I’m gonna get you, bitch!” His hoarse voice scratched through her like shards of ice, chilling her to the marrow. She swallowed the whimper that swelled in her throat.

Stay calm. Think.

With a sweaty hand, she clutched her pepper spray, flicked off the safety catch. Racing to the fifth floor, she mentally prepared for an attack. No one would hear if she screamed.

She was alone. On her own.

She could head for the lobby instead of the garage, but the night watchman’s desk was down several long corridors.

No. She’d parked right across from the stairs. Much closer.

If she could just reach her car and get inside…

His footsteps sounded closer. Oh God, no!

Move faster! Panic hovered in her chest.

She had to keep her head.

Turning at the third floor, her heel snagged. She stumbled. Her hip smacked the steel bar. Pain snaked down her leg, and she yelped. The misstep cost her valuable seconds. Ignoring the throb in her hip, she plowed on.

He was gaining on her.

Breathing raggedly, Libby bolted down the next set of stairs. It was him—the crazy who’d sent threats on blue paper. Her gut told her so.

Terror clambered up her throat, choking her. The heat of his breath scorched her neck, but when she turned, no one was there.

Don’t look. Just run.

Second floor. First. Faster!

Libby slammed through the door at garage level. Steel bands of terror strangled her lungs. A white-hot sting speared her hip as she sprinted across the deserted parking area. Gasping in pain and panic, she frantically mashed the remote to unlock her Camry. The headlights flashed on, blinding her briefly as she neared the driver’s side.

Her fingers fumbled with the ignition key. Cursing the shadows that cast the parking lot in darkness, she groped for the door. She jerked the handle of her Camry. The door didn’t budge. Her head swam dizzily, and her hands shook as she tried the remote again.

Metal screeched, followed by an echoing boom. The stairwell door. He’d reached the garage. She sensed her stalker zeroing in on her, heard the shuffle of feet on concrete….

Please, please! Finally her door lock clicked off with a snick. Her knees wobbled with relief. Snatching the door open, she threw her briefcase inside.

She smelled him first.

The unmistakable scents of male sweat, deodorant soap and pine. An instant later, a large hand closed around her arm.

“Lib—”

She gasped and jerked against the man’s grip. Spun. Raised the can of pepper spray.

With lightning speed, he knocked the vial from her hand. She screamed. Fought. Flailed at him with her fists.

He clamped a hand over her mouth. His long, hard body pinned her against the side of her car.

Still, she struggled, but her captor was an immovable wall of muscle.

The prosecutor in her cut through the haze of fear. Look at his face. Make a mental picture so you can give a description.

Assuming she got away.

Her stubborn will rejected the voice of doubt. She would get away. No way would she become a statistic.

Fighting his hold on her mouth, she angled her head. The light from her Camry spilled through the open door and illuminated his chiseled jaw, raven hair and laser-blue eyes.

A face she knew. Intimately.

“Hello, Libby,” Cal drawled. “Long time no see.”

Libby’s face, already pale with fright, blanched a shade whiter. Cal frowned and eased his grip on her arm. Something had her spooked. Badly. She’d bolted through the door from the stairs as if she had the hounds of hell on her heels.

“Are you all right, Lib?”

The bedroom-brown eyes he remembered were now bright with fear and glanced nervously around the empty parking garage. But was she looking for someone to help her or searching for whatever demon had had her racing for her car?

The idea that she could be afraid of him gnawed his gut. No matter how much he hated what she’d done to his life, the years she’d stolen from him, the job he’d lost, he wasn’t the kind of man who’d harm a woman. In all the months they’d spent together, hadn’t she at least learned that about him?

“Mmmr wwrm,” she mumbled from under his hand.

His scowl deepened, and he nailed her with a no-nonsense glare. “I’ll let go of your mouth if you promise not to scream again. That last screech busted my ears.”

Her dark eyes flashed indignantly.

Oh, yes, he remembered her stubborn pride. A steel will ran through her, equal to her passion. And her compassion.

He needed to reach her tender heart and her inordinate sense of responsibility today. She was his last hope, his only hope. Besides, she owed him.

Slowly he pulled his hand away, keeping a wary eye on her.

“How dare you scare me like that! What were you thinking? You deserve a face full of pepper spray for that stunt! Of all the—”

She swung at him.

But twenty-four months in prison had sharpened his reflexes, taught him to be quick on his feet and have eyes in the back of his head. He easily blocked her fist and pinned her wrist to the car. “Whoa! Settle down. What stunt are you talking about?”

She rolled her eyes then turned an icy glare on him. “On the stairs? The ‘I’m gonna get you, bitch’ crack? Following me, hiding from me, purposely freaking me out?”

The stairs? He thought about the terror that had filled her face when she’d burst through the garage door and run for her car. Unease jerked a knot in his gut. He cut a sharp glance to the stairs then back to Libby. “Someone followed you on the stairs? Did they hurt you?”

What had she said about a comment using the term bitch? His disquiet ratcheted up a notch.

She yanked her arm from his grip and righted her silk blouse. The soft fabric clung to her curves and made no secret of the feminine body beneath. “You’re not funny. What were you trying to prove?”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Yeah, right.” As she moved to climb into her Camry, he grabbed her arm and brought her dark eyes back to his. She pressed her lips in a thin line of irritation.

“I’ve been over there in my truck waiting for you for over an hour.” With a hitch of his head, he directed her gaze to his dilapidated Chevy.

Suspicion narrowed her eyes but soon gave way to the pale, shaken look she’d worn when he’d first approached her. “You weren’t just on the stairs? You swear?”

He snorted. “Not that my word has ever carried any weight with you, but…yeah, I swear.” He felt the shudder that raced through her, and his chest tightened. Releasing her arm, he cast another look toward the stairwell door. “Want me to go check it out? See if anybody’s in there?”

Stiffly she shook her head and sank onto the front seat. “I’m sure whoever was there is long gone now.”

Her cheeks had regained most of their color. She pulled her lips into a pinched frown and raised her chin. “If I find out you’re lying, I won’t hesitate to have you hauled in for harassing an officer of the court.”

Clenching his teeth, he fought down the rise of bile that rose in his throat. The last thing he needed was to give his parole officer an excuse to send him back to prison. “I thought you’d already done that. Isn’t that what the last two years of my life have been about? Your revenge for my leaving you to marry Renee?”

Her eyes flickered with shock, and her lips parted in protest. “I didn’t—”

“Trust me, marriage to Renee was a punishment in itself. Ally’s the only good thing to come from that mistake.”

Libby’s expression softened a degree at the mention of Ally. Maybe his mission wasn’t a lost cause.

As quickly as the tenderness appeared, it dissipated, replaced with hard-edged anger. “Your prison time had nothing to do with us and everything to do with the fact that you attacked a man!”

“My actions were justified! Was I supposed to stand back and let him beat the hell out of that woman?”

Libby threw her hands up and shook her head.

She jabbed a well-manicured finger in his chest and drilled him with a stony glare. He remembered that stare from the courtroom two years ago. Cold. Flat. Void of emotion. “Save it. It’s over, and I won’t debate this with you.”

She tried to close her door, and he blocked it. “Hang on. There’s something else we need to discuss.”

With a trace of suspicion still coloring her expression, she tipped her head. “What?”

Cal straightened and met her eyes. This was it. Everything he cared about rode on convincing Libby to go along with his plan. Drawing a deep breath, he plunged in. “I need your help.”

She scoffed. “My help? Why?”

He crouched down to her eye level. When he braced a hand on the headrest by her cheek and leaned toward her, she stiffened. He moved close enough to smell the subtle musk scent of her perfume, close enough to feel her breath on his face, close enough to hear the sexy catch in her breath. His own pulse scrambled from the proximity.

Damn! She still affected him. Mesmerized him. Tortured him.

“Because the way I see it, you owe me.”

She frowned and rolled her shoulders, clearly struggling to keep her cool. “I don’t owe you squat, Walters.”

He tensed as if she’d kicked him in the teeth. He’d expected this reaction from her, but that didn’t make it easier to take. Curling his fingers into fists, he plowed on, struggling to rein in his temper. It wouldn’t serve his cause to blow up at her now, put her on the defensive.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t have anything to do with your office’s hardball negotiation on my plea agreement. Tell me that during my sentencing you didn’t once think about how I hurt you when I married Renee.”

Surprise flitted across her sculpted, heaven-sent face.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I know I hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

She knitted her brow and turned away, but not before he glimpsed the pain in her eyes. Taking her chin in his hand, he angled her face toward him, felt her tremble.

The wall of her defenses came up in her eyes. The cold, blank prosecutor look returned. “What do you want, Cal?”

“I want my daughter. I want custody of Ally, but my prison record and my being a single father work against me.”

“You want me to take your case? Is that it? Sorry, I don’t do custody cases, but I’ll be happy to recommend someone—”

“I have a lawyer.”

She huffed. “Then why do you need me?”

“Respectability. Stability. Image.”

Her face darkened. “I don’t follow.”

But the wary glint in her gaze said she did understand. The fluttering pulse at her throat gave away her panic.

“Hear me out, Libby.” He ran his thumb along the line of her jaw, and heat flared in her eyes.

Good. He still affected her, too. He tugged his mouth sideways in a satisfied grin.

“You see, Renee’s got a bum for a boyfriend and a new drug habit. She’s neglecting Ally. I want to make a home for my daughter, a better one than the hellhole she lives in now. You can help give me that edge.”

She was already shaking her head. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Libby was his last chance.

“I want you to marry me, Lib. I need a wife.”

Chapter 2

“This is insane! You can’t be serious.” Libby paced across the black-and-white-tile floor of her kitchen and sent Cal a dubious look.

“I’m dead serious.” The penetrating blue of his returned gaze echoed his resolve. He’d sprawled casually in one of her antique ladder-back chairs, making himself at home. As if he thought he belonged in her kitchen. As if five years and so much painful history hadn’t come between them.

While they waited for the pot of coffee she’d started, he propped a booted foot on another chair and watched her pace. Jewel, her gray cat, rubbed against Cal’s leg, and he reached down to scratch her head while clucking his tongue. His calm repose stood in sharp contrast to the jitters dancing along Libby’s nerves.

If Cal’s crazy proposal weren’t enough, she still heard the hiss of her stalker’s voice echoing in her head. She shivered. Had Cal not been in the garage, would the creep have caught her? Killed her?

The sooner she dealt with Cal, the sooner she could get rid of him and report her stalker’s latest stunt to the police.

“I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t serious.”

When Cal spoke, she snapped her gaze to his.

Cal. In her kitchen again after all these years. And back in her life, if he had his way.

Seeing his long, muscular legs stretched out comfortably at her table filled Libby with a déjà vu that swirled like warm honey in her blood. The sight was so familiar. So inviting.

So…wrong.

She shook her head briskly, clearing it of cozy memories and renewing her protest. “No. There are so many reasons why it’s a bad idea, that—”

“Name one.” He dropped his boot to the floor and stood. Moving to the gurgling coffeemaker, Cal poured himself a cup then leveled a challenging gaze on her as he sipped.

“It’s just…wrong. It’s—”

“Why?” He stepped closer to her, and her pulse scrambled. “Why is it so wrong?”

Angling her head to meet his gaze, she noticed the thin, pale scar on his square chin, nearly hidden in his bristly black stubble. She remembered that scar, remembered tracing it with her tongue in the heat of lovemaking. Catching her breath, she averted her eyes, struggled to calm her runaway heartbeat. “Because I…I—”

She couldn’t think straight with all his raw male sensuality towering over her and the pine scent of his cologne teasing her senses. Rather than let him corner her, either with his body or his arguments, Libby ducked away, rubbing her arms.

“Are you sure you’re all right? You were pretty shaken up earlier, and you still seem…edgy.”

The concern in his tone unnerved her as much as the lingering thoughts of the man on the stairs. “I’m fine. Really.”

She didn’t want to discuss her stalker with Cal. That was her problem. She’d deal with it in her own way.

As she crossed the room, she turned the tables, wanting, needing to stay in control of this discussion. “Why marry me? Surely you have plenty of other women you could choose from.”

“No one else has your power and prestige in court,” he said. “Which I’ll need to counter my prison record. And no one else owes me like you do.”

Her spine stiffened. “I owe you nothing! Get that through your thick skull.”

His smoldering stare closed the distance between them. Pitching his voice low, he said, “No one else got under my skin the way you did. We were good together, Lib. You know that. Not even prison could make me forget the way we burned up the sheets.”

His husky tone slid over her like a lover’s callused hand, rough yet gentle. Her skin tingled in response. Grasping for control, she swallowed the hitch in her breath and crossed her arms over her sensitized breasts so he wouldn’t see how his words had affected her.

Her traitorous body’s reaction to him was just one more reason why she couldn’t afford to let him back in her life. Sure the sex had been good. Mind-blowing even. But the last thing she needed was another broken heart thanks to Cal Walters.

“You’re crazier than I thought if you believe for a second that I’d ever sleep with you again.”

He arched a dark eyebrow. “You sure about that? Your eyes are telling me you remember just how good it was between us. I’ll bet that chemistry is still there.”

He gave her an impudent grin, and she gritted her teeth.

“That’s not lust, hotshot. It’s shock. I can’t believe you have the gall to ask anything of me considering our past.” Drawing on her practiced courtroom control, she marched across the kitchen to him, her shoulders back. “We had great chemistry in bed. I’ll give you that. But sex wasn’t enough to save our relationship when you found out Renee was pregnant. You stood right here in my kitchen and told me it was over without so much as blinking. ‘See ya later, Libby. It’s been real. Gotta go marry someone else now.’” She gave a jerky wave, her hurt and anger coiled inside her, ready to spring.

A muscle in Cal’s jaw twitched. “It didn’t happen like that. You make it sound like I cheated on you. I never—”

Libby lifted a palm to stop him. “I know you were faithful, that it was over with Renee long before you met me. I’ve never questioned that. But one day everything was great, and the next you came by for five minutes to pick up your things and break my heart. Just boom, you’re gone.”

“Maybe I was a little quick in leaving, but I’m not good at goodbyes. I don’t do big, emotional scenes. I honestly thought a clean break would be easier for both of us.”

She flicked a hand and shook her head. “Whatever. It’s over. Just forget it.” Calming herself with a deep breath, she added, “Regardless of how you remember our breakup, the point is, we’re history. You’ve got a lot of nerve coming to me, using our past as leverage to make demands and accusations. Get this much straight—I had nothing to do with the prosecution of your case. Zilch.”

“Right.” His features hardened, and the blaze in his eyes now had nothing to do with desire. “You just came to my sentencing to gloat, I suppose? I saw you conferring with the lead prosecutor.”

“I came to your sentencing. But not to gloat.” That he’d believe such a petty thing of her hurt. More than she cared to admit. His opinion shouldn’t matter anymore. “And if I did talk with Stan, it was something personal, like, ‘Where are you going for lunch?’ Not anything about your case. Like I said, there are ethical canons that prevent—”

“Then why couldn’t you look me in the eye? You knew I was getting railroaded, didn’t you? I had six witnesses who said I was justified in defending that woman’s life!”

“Defending her, yes. But the prosecution found just as many people who said that even after the threat had been contained, you kept hitting the guy. Your excessive force landed you in jail. Not me.”

He’d made his bed, and he’d had to sleep in it.

Heat flashed over her skin. Bad analogy. Best not to think of Cal and bed in the same breath.

“Why don’t you own up to your actions instead of pointing the blame at everyone else?”

He stiffened, and a muscle in his jaw ticked. “I owned up to my actions when I married Renee, didn’t I? I wanted my daughter to have my name, to have a father.”

“I understood the choice you made and why. It was the way you handled things between us that I have a problem with.” Like the way your leaving ripped my heart out.

When Jewel mewled at her from the floor, Libby picked up her cat and cradled her, seeking solace in Jewel’s gently rumbling purr.

More composed, she regarded Cal with as much dispassion as she could muster. “I’ve put you in the past and moved on. I suggest you do the same.”

He narrowed his gaze on her and raised a black eyebrow. His piercing eyes stirred a quiver in her belly, and she hugged Jewel tighter.

Oh God, he always could see through her bravado. That was why she’d avoided looking at him at his sentencing. She couldn’t let him see how much his ordeal hurt her, how frightened she was for him.

Obviously she needn’t have been scared. He had an uncanny way of scraping past danger and landing on his feet. Like a cat with about nine hundred lives. She and her staid, black-and-white life were better off without him.

“Believe me, Lib, I’ve tried to move on. Unfortunately, you’re kinda hard to forget.”

“That’s your problem. Not mine.”

As she turned away, he caught her shoulders in a firm grip and stared into her eyes with his laser gaze. “No, Lib, my problem is, my daughter is living in a cesspool of an apartment with a mother who’s turned to arm candy for recreation and deadbeat scum for company. I want Ally out of there. Permanently. And you’re gonna help me get her.”

Libby stroked the cat’s head, thankful she had something to do with her restless hands. “And if I don’t?”

Cal angled his chin, assessing her. “You may hate me, but I know you’d never refuse to help a four-year-old girl. Ally needs you. She needs us to get her into a safe home. Thanks to my criminal record, the only way the court will give me custody is if I can prove I’ll provide her with the stability, safety and love she’s not getting now. The love part I’ve got covered.” Cal paused and rubbed the scar on his chin with his thumb, his jaw tight and his shrewd eyes gauging her reaction. When she continued to stare at him without speaking, he added, “I just need your cooperation, as my wife, for a couple years. Just until all the legal matters are settled and I have Ally free and clear. Then, if it’s what you want—” he pressed his lips in a frown and sighed “—I’ll let you walk away. No strings. Please, Libby, Ally is my heart, my everything. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”

“Even marry a woman you don’t love? Oh, wait…” She raised a finger as if struck by inspiration. “You already did.”

Cal’s jaw tensed even further, and his glare narrowed. “You know what it’s like to live with an addicted mother.”

Her lungs seized, and her grip on Jewel tightened.

“How dare you use my past against me,” she whispered.

“You know how it feels to be—”

“Stop! I don’t want to talk about my mother. When I told you about her, I warned you not to mention her or my past ever again.” Her voice cracked, and she spun away from him.

Why had she trusted him with even a glimpse of her painful childhood? Just another mistake she’d made with Cal, another example of how she’d given too much of herself away. But never again.

Jewel squirmed and jumped down from her arms.

Libby fought to plug the wellspring of painful memories Cal had tapped. Control.

“Cal, we can’t even be in the same room for five minutes without arguing. What kind of home will that be for Ally?”

“A whole lot better than the one she’s in now. I didn’t say I had all the answers. It’ll take effort from both of us to make this thing work. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, for Ally’s sake.”

Libby opened her mouth to tell him there were other solutions to his quandary that didn’t involve her and a marriage of convenience. Social workers, counseling for Renee, another candidate to be his temporary wife—anything!

She dusted cat hair off her work clothes and pushed aside the uneasy prickle at the thought of some other woman marrying Cal.

Whipping out his wallet, he flipped to a picture of a blue-eyed cherub with her daddy’s inky black hair.

A sharp pang pinched her heart.

Cal must have seen her weakening. He circled and moved in for the kill. “Can you tell her no? She’s an innocent in this whole mess. She deserves better than roaches in her bed at night and going to day care with no breakfast.”

Libby scowled and marched to the refrigerator, where she yanked out a quart of milk. “It couldn’t be as bad as that. Renee would never—”

“Renee doesn’t even know the day of the week most times. She and her live-in dirtwad are usually too stoned to take care of themselves, much less Ally!” He slapped his wallet shut and jammed it back in his pocket.

Setting the milk on the counter by the coffeepot, Libby straightened her back and lifted her chin. “There are laws to protect children in cases like this. Someone from Child Welfare should—”

“No! Not the courts. Ally doesn’t need bureaucracy or some government yahoo. I’m her father. I want her. She needs me!” He thrust his hands through his hair and growled his frustration. The muscle in his jaw jumped wildly as he ground his teeth.

The passion saturating his tone and the worry creasing his face reminded Libby of the man she’d grown close to, fallen in love with, five years ago. For all his machismo and toughness, his tender and compassionate side had touched her heart.

“When Renee and I divorced two years ago, I was awarded visitation rights. Every other weekend, Ally is supposed to be with me. While I was in prison, I obviously couldn’t take my weekends, and since my parole three weeks ago, I’ve only had one weekend with my daughter. But I saw enough that weekend to convince me Ally was in jeopardy. My lawyer filed the petition for custody Monday. I have to do this soon or I could lose my case.” He gave her a pointed look. “Again.”

She blinked back the sting of tears, the pain of all they’d lost and her own concern for his daughter. Pulling in a deep breath, she battled the turmoil rolling through her. Stay in control.

How could she do it? She had enough to worry about with a stalker following her. How could she tangle her life up with Cal’s again?

“So what’ll it be, Libby? Will you help us? I give you my word, you’ll be free to go, to file for divorce, once I know my rights to Ally are secure.”

A throwaway marriage. Just as their first relationship had been disposable to him. She rubbed a throbbing ache growing at her temple. “I don’t know, Cal. I need time to think.”

Why were personal decisions always so difficult? What if she made the wrong choice and screwed up her life or someone else’s? She thought she’d outgrown the nerve-racking responsibility of no-win choices that had been her mother’s legacy.

She needed black-and-white. Clear-cut answers and certainties. Someone she could count on. Especially now while this stalker was out there watching her. But nothing about Cal was black-and-white.

He spread his hands in supplication. “Ally and I need your help stacking the deck in our favor. I don’t want the court to have any reason to deny my motion for custody.”

Gray. That’s what Cal was. Or rather, he was passionate shades of red and green and gold. A confusing blur of color.

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 of my job. He probably just wants to scare me, but I won’t let him. If I refuse to let him manipulate me, eventually he’ll get tired of his games and go away.”

Cal frowned. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Yes.” No. But maybe if she kept telling herself she had no reason to be worried, she would eventually believe it.

He arched his eyebrow again, clearly unconvinced. “Seems to me this guy is another reason you should marry me.”

She choked on her coffee. “What?” she sputtered.

“I can protect you.”

She thunked her mug down on the counter. “I don’t need protection. Besides, what about the potential danger you’d put yourself in?”

Cal brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “I can take care of myself.”

“So can I.” She ducked away from his hand. The mere touch of his finger against her cheek curled her toes, sent ribbons of pleasure swirling inside her. Damn it, spending any length of time with this man threatened her libido. And the shabby patchwork of her reconstructed heart.

“What about Ally?” she asked. “Aren’t you worried about her being at risk from this guy?”

“He’d have to come through me to get to Ally. Or to you. I would never let that happen. She’s at far greater risk as long as she’s living in that dump with Renee. That’s the problem I’m concerned with.”

Cal slid warm hands over her shoulders and gripped her arms, pinning her with an intense blue gaze. “Please, Lib. Go with me to get Ally. It’s important to me that you understand what’s at stake.”

She knew the stakes better than he did. To her heart. And to Ally. She’d lived it.

The answer wasn’t clear-cut, black or white.

As much as she wanted to tell him no, the incident on the stairs, her nightmare had rattled her more than she cared to admit. Maybe having Cal around would give her more protection. And a little peace of mind.

But protection wasn’t justification for getting married. Especially not to Cal. Letting Cal back into her life posed a far more imminent danger to her heart. Her throat tightened. Damn it, he’d already made a riot of her emotions.

“If I go…” she began, hating the seductive rasp in her voice.

The smoky haze in his eyes told her he’d noticed, too. His gaze locked on her mouth, and she fought the urge to retreat a step. Or to lean in and kiss him. She cleared her throat before she went on. “If I go with you now, you’ll take my no for an answer and leave me alone?”

“You won’t tell me no.” His grin was confident and disarming. “As I recall, you never could.”

Libby scowled at his back as he sauntered toward her living room. Maybe the old Libby never could tell him no, but since he’d walked out on her five years ago, she’d changed.

Chapter 3

Nothing had changed at Renee’s apartment since he’d been by earlier in the week. Except perhaps a few more crusty dishes were piled in the sink and on the coffee table. A stronger stench of rotten garbage permeated the air.

Cal watched Libby react to the scene. With her eyes wide and her stance rigid, she pressed a hand over her mouth and took in the chaos of clutter and filth.

“You’re early.” Renee stumbled back from the door, tripping past the spot where her boyfriend Gary—or Jerry, or whatever the creep’s name was—lay passed out on the floor. Judging from Renee’s glazed expression, she was high again. Surprise, surprise.

“Actually I’m not. It’s past nine. Where’s Ally?”

“Asleep, I guess. Try her room.” Renee rubbed her face hard and winced. Black circles ringed his ex’s eyes, and baggy clothes hung on her rail-thin frame. She’d lost too much weight in the last few months. Cal’s stomach knotted. Renee had been vibrant and beautiful when they’d first met. Her mind had been sharp. He hated seeing her like this. If Renee took such poor care of herself, what did Ally endure?

“Renee, look at this place. Don’t you understand that the authorities could take Ally away, put her in foster care, if you don’t get your act together?”

Renee scoffed. “I’m her mother. They can’t take her from me. And neither can you. I have rights.”

“They can take her away, and they will. What about Ally’s right to have a clean home? To have someone love her and take care of her?”

“I love her!” Renee wobbled, and Cal steadied her with a hand on her arm.

He mustered every ounce of his patience. “Then get clean. I’m not fighting for custody to hurt you, Renee. I’m doing it because I love Ally. I don’t want to see her suffer.”

Renee pulled free of his grip. “She’s fine.”

Grunting his disgust and frustration, Cal stalked toward the back of the tiny apartment and nearly collided with a scruffy man who came out of the bathroom, zipping his pants.

“Look where you’re going, man,” the hoodlum grumbled, bumping past Cal on his way back to the front room.

“Who the hell are you?” Cal followed the man into the living room and divided a glare between the man and Renee.

“Who’s askin’?” The stranger gave Libby, who still hovered by the door, a suspicious look. “Hey, do I know you?”

Cal tensed, ready to intervene if the scumbag took another step toward Libby.

She raised her chin and appraised the man with a honed look, one that doubtlessly brought hostile witnesses to their knees. “Not unless you’ve had a reason to appear in court recently.”

Cal felt a quick tug of pride. Libby personified strength under fire. Cool and poised. Other than two nights ago in the parking garage, when she’d been so uncharacteristically rattled, he’d only seen her experience meltdown between the sheets. During sex, she let go, burned hot and fast like a forest fire in a drought. When his libido pulsed to life, he firmly pushed thoughts of tangling limbs with Libby aside for another time.

“That’s right.” The slimeball wagged a finger toward Libby. “You’re the skirt from the D.A.’s office.” When the disheveled man stepped toward her, Cal instinctively moved to Libby’s side.

“So, you’re familiar with the prosecutor’s office, Mr.—” Libby tipped her head, tapping a finger to her lips as if trying to remember something. “I’m sorry, who did you say you were?”

The bum flashed an oily smile. “You can just call me Roach, lawyer babe.”

“Roach, huh? Interesting. Family name?” Libby parried.

Roach chortled and flopped back onto the stained cushions of Renee’s couch. On the floor, Gary/Jerry/whatever-his-name-was, stirred, coughed then lurched for an empty glass as he retched.

Cal felt Libby’s shudder only because he’d put his hand on her arm to guide her away from Roach. “Come on. Let’s find Ally and get the hell out of here,” he said under his breath.

With a nod, she followed him back to the corner bedroom, where Ally’s toys littered the floor.

The bed was empty.

Anxiety flashed through Cal with the force of a backdraft. “Ally?”

Darting forward, he ripped the covers from the bed, searching for his daughter, even though the girl clearly wasn’t there. He cut a sharp glance toward Libby, whose face reflected the same concern and confusion that knifed him.

“Renee!” He stormed out to the living room, his body tense with fury, his stomach knotted with dread. “She’s not there! Where the hell is my daughter?”

Renee clutched her head and slouched in her seat, curling into a tiny ball. “Don’t yell! Damn, my head’s gonna explode.”

“Where’s Ally? She’s not in her room!”

His ex sighed heavily. “Have you looked in her closet?”

Beside him, Libby gasped. He spared her only a brief I-told-you-so glance as he rushed back to look for Ally.

When he snatched open the closet door, the flood of light from the bedroom revealed hidden horrors in the small, dark space. Cal winced as the odor of urine hit him. A spider scurried under a box in the corner.

A raven-haired moppet raised bleary eyes to squint at him. “Mommy?”

Emotions slammed into him. A tangled mix of relief, outrage and anguish squeezed his heart and brought him to his knees. “Oh, baby girl. It’s Daddy. Why are you in here?”

Ally whimpered when he leaned down to scoop her up in his arms. “No! Leave me alone!”

“It’s all right, Ally. It’s Daddy. Remember last weekend when we went to the park, I asked if you’d like to come visit me sometime? You said you did.”

Ally nodded.

“Well, I’m here so you can visit my apartment, stay with me for the weekend. Would you like that?”

“Can we go to the park again?”

“Sure, kitten. Whatever you want.” He tucked Ally under his chin and turned to carry her out. Her clothes were damp. “Ally, what happened to your nightgown? It’s wet.”

Ally sniffed. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Cal coaxed.

“Wet my pants,” she whispered. “That man was in the potty, and I had t’go.”

“Aw, sweetie. It’s okay. We’ll get you cleaned up. C’mon.”

Libby stood two paces from the closet door, her face white and her features a mask of horror. He’d never seen Libby cry, but tears filled her eyes now. Her whole body shook.

“Still think you can tell us no?” he rasped, wishing he could cry, too. Wishing he could throw back his head and howl for the suffering his little girl had endured without him.

Sucking in a harsh, strangled breath, Libby bolted from the room.

Libby sat inside Cal’s truck and wrapped her arms around herself. She concentrated on calming her ragged breaths and erasing the ugly memories that had chased her from Renee’s apartment. When a movement outside the pickup caught her eye, she jerked her gaze up, her pulse jumping.

Deep breaths. Don’t lose control.

Cal approached the passenger’s door, carrying his daughter on one shoulder and a duffel bag slung over the other. Libby climbed from the truck on shaky legs and pulled the seat forward so he could put Ally in the back. A biting January wind whipped around her, and she shivered.

“Thanks.” Sparing Libby a quick glance, Cal settled Ally on the back seat and gently tucked his jacket around her. “Sorry we took so long. I had to pack her things and get her changed into something clean.”

“Mmm,” she hummed in acknowledgment, certain she couldn’t speak yet without her voice cracking. Bad enough she’d lost it in the apartment and fled like a startled doe. Way to keep it together, Counselor.

Libby avoided Cal’s eyes as he lifted Ally’s small duffel into the truck bed. She’d seen his haunted despair when he’d found his daughter, and she couldn’t face his tormented gaze again. Not until she’d gotten a firmer grip on her own composure.

Ally leaned against the far side of the truck, her eyes squeezed tightly closed. Too tight to truly be asleep. Libby recognized Ally’s game of possum for what it was—avoidance. How many times had Libby pretended to be asleep to avoid facing her mother’s drinking and boyfriends?

A rock settled in Libby’s chest, choking her. An oppressive omen. The weight of dread.

She was going to tell Cal yes.

Damn it, she knew marrying him, for whatever reason, was flirting with disaster. But the ghosts that had rattled their chains in Renee’s apartment could not be ignored. The past could not be repeated. She couldn’t leave Ally to endure what she herself had barely survived.

Even if it meant putting her heart on the line with Cal.

Despite any possible threat from the stalker, first and foremost, Ally needed protection from her mother’s bad habits and neglect.

Turning from Ally, Libby fastened her seat belt as Cal climbed into the truck. She felt his gaze on her, but kept her attention focused on the apartment stairs.

Roach ambled out wearing a long trench coat and lighting a cigarette. The scruffy man, whose bleached hair spiked in all directions, seemed vaguely familiar. After a while, though, the parade of deadbeats through the court system began to blur. Still, she searched her memory for a previous run-in with Roach.

Cal touched her arm, and she flinched as if burned. Her emotions were too close to the surface. Even the comforting graze of his hand triggered an electric reaction that crackled along her raw nerves.

“You okay?”

No, she longed to wail. I’ve just revisited my childhood and really need for you to hold me for a minute. Or a week.

She gave him a curt nod. “Fine.”

“You know, Renee hasn’t always been this way. When I met her, she was perky and intelligent. She had so much potential. Seeing her like this…”

Judging from the grim set of Cal’s jaw and his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, he had plenty he wanted to say but couldn’t because of the four-year-old in the back seat.

As they headed out of the parking lot, Cal’s eyes shifted to Roach, and a growl rumbled from his throat. “That guy’s trouble. I don’t want Ally around creeps like him. Before Renee got involved with Gary/Jerry/what’s-his-name, before her next hit was more important than our daughter, she wouldn’t have been caught dead hanging around with a jerk like that.”

Libby cut her gaze back to the man in question. “The fact that he knew I was from the D.A.’s office tells me he’s had a few scrapes with the law. I’d be willing to bet he’s her dealer.”

Dismay filled Cal’s face then shifted to cold determination. “Great. Renee’s consorting with criminals. More ammunition for my case.”

Cal gunned the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. He drove in stony, brooding silence.

She stole glimpses of his hard jaw and the unshaven shadow of beard that gave him a dangerous look. His appearance belied the gentle soul she knew lived beneath the rough-edged exterior. Her fingers itched to comb back the black hair curling over his collar and savor the rasp of his stubble beneath her hands. Five years ago, that weekend beard had abraded the tenderest places of her body, left his brand on her skin. The way his memory left its mark upon her heart.

She swallowed hard, forcing down the knot in her throat. He’d made his choice. He’d left her, thrown away what they’d had together. Only a fool would set herself up for that kind of fall a second time.

After a few minutes, the tense quiet in the truck became almost more unbearable than the thought of rehashing what had just happened, than facing the inevitable question: What are you going to do now, Libby?

She couldn’t walk away. She never could. Not from her mother. Not from Cal. And certainly not now from Ally.

She glanced into the back seat where Ally slept. The picture of this frail angel huddled in the back of her closet amid the filth was an image burned forever in Libby’s mind.

“All right,” she said without looking at Cal. She turned to watch the stark, winter-bare trees pass outside her window and shivered. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

Cal darted an uncertain look across the front seat then gaped as if he thought he’d heard wrong. Finally, he nodded.

“Good.” He sighed wearily and rubbed the scar on his chin with his palm. “Thank you.”

“But I have conditions.”

He chuckled wryly. “Figures.”

“Our marriage will be in name only. Separate beds.”

Scoffing, Cal shook his head. “No way. The court has to believe I’ll give Ally a Leave it to Beaver home life. Ward and June didn’t keep separate quarters.”

Libby snorted. “Pal, if you’re looking for June Cleaver, you’ve come to the wrong woman.”

She turned to check on Ally again, in time to see a pair of curious blue eyes snap shut. A grin ghosted across Libby’s lips, and she faced the front again, giving Cal’s daughter the privacy she wanted and the freedom to observe her father and his friend uninterrupted.

“I’m not asking you to make meat loaf and vacuum the house in high heels and pearls,” Cal said. “But I have to show the court that Ally will have a stable, two-parent home where she’ll be safe and loved.”

“This one’s a deal breaker. You’re in the guest room, or I walk. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he sent her a hooded glance. “Good enough. For now.”

He turned back to stare out the windshield, and a strange hollowness poked at her. Irritated with her reaction, she squeezed the door handle even tighter. She was not disappointed that he’d accepted her term of celibacy so readily.

“Fine.” And she was fine, too. Getting into bed with Cal Walters again, no matter how tempting, would be the height of stupidity.

At a traffic light, Cal drummed the steering wheel with his fingers. “But you’ll need to keep up appearances in public. The world, the judge, has to believe we’re happily married…in every way.”

“Fine.” Libby pressed a hand to her stomach, hoping to calm the swirl of apprehension growing inside her.

Happily married? To Cal?

Not so many years ago, sharing her life with Cal had been her greatest hope, her dream. Now the proposition seemed more of a nightmare. A recipe for heartbreak.

“All right, then. Make time on your calendar first thing Monday to get the license.” Cal cut a sideways glance at her. “With the three-day waiting period, the soonest we can get married is Thursday.”

She shook her head. “I have a case going to trial Thursday. I’ll be in court all day.”

“All day?”

“There’ll be a recess for lunch, but—”

“Good. We’ll just grab a judge during your break and do it then.”

“Cal, I—” She stopped, unsure what her objection was. But she couldn’t shake the foreboding sense that she was making a terrible mistake.

He hoped to God he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. Having listened to his mom and stepdad bicker over everything from scrambled eggs to the electric bill, he knew what it was like to grow up in a house rife with hostility.

An all-too-familiar prick of guilt needled him. Hell, the hostility should have been a clue to what was really going on. He should have known. Should have done something sooner.

One thing was certain—Libby would never endure from him what his mother had with his stepfather. Never.

He watched from the door of his bedroom as Libby stroked a gentle hand over Ally’s cheek and tucked a teddy bear under his daughter’s arm. Libby had dived right in beside him, helping with Ally’s bath and fixing a hot brunch of pancakes and bacon before they shuffled his drowsy daughter off to nap.

Despite her kindness to Ally, the silent treatment and physical distance Libby kept from him conveyed her feelings about their relationship loud and clear. Not exactly the parental atmosphere he wanted for his daughter.

He’d hoped the warm, compassionate Libby who had stolen his heart years ago would be his wife. Every night of his incarceration, he’d dreamed of the woman who’d made him laugh, who’d kissed him in the rain and made s’mores with him over the fireplace flames. After three passionate months together, they’d been on the verge of taking their affair to a deeper, more personal level when Renee had called to say she was five months pregnant with Ally. He never got the chance to probe the deeper layers of the fun-loving and complex woman Libby was, the woman he’d started to love.

He sighed his regret. Maybe he’d never regain what he’d lost with Libby. She could resent him all she wanted as long as Ally had the love she deserved.

He stepped out of the way so Libby could back from the room and pull the door closed.

“I have to leave.”

He cocked his head. “Excuse me?”

She gave him a pointed look. “Leave. Go home. Your little field trip this morning has put me behind schedule.” She squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin. “I have things to do today.”

“Yeah, things like making plans with me about how this arrangement will work. Spending time with Ally. Getting to know her.” He hooked his thumbs in his jeans and frowned.

“No…like researching an important case at the library. And taking Jewel to the vet for her shots.” She brushed past him and began gathering her coat and purse. “I have to pick up my dry cleaning and get the oil changed on my car and—”

“I can change your oil. No point paying someone else to do it.”

She paused in the middle of pulling on her coat. “I don’t need you to change my oil. I’m perfectly happy having my mechanic take care of it.” She jabbed a finger in his direction as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “I agreed to this plan of yours, and I’ll do what I can to help you get custody of Ally. But that doesn’t mean you can come in and dictate my life.”

“I don’t intend to dictate your life, but if this marriage is going to work, if it’s going to look convincing, you’re going to have to find time for us. You can’t bury yourself in your job to hide out from us.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could reel them back. For Ally’s sake, he needed to work on smoothing the rough edges in his relationship with Libby.

She pulled herself to her full height and pressed her mouth in a taut line. “What’s wrong with working hard at a job I enjoy?”

He shrugged and stepped closer. “Nothing at all. It’s great you enjoy your work.”

Her dark eyes sparked with suppressed pain and anger. “At least I can count on my job being there when I need it. That’s more than I can say about some people.”

Her gibe sliced deep, a direct hit to ancient guilt. But she had no way of knowing about his mother. Did she? As close as they’d been, he’d never shared his darkest secret with her.

He determinedly kept his expression neutral, giving away none of his rioting emotions.

“I help get criminals off the street,” she added. “It’s satisfying.”

Moving within inches of her, he reached for the lapel of her coat and smoothed a wrinkle. Beneath his touch, she stiffened, drew herself up a notch tighter, like a coil ready to spring.

“More satisfying than your personal relationships?” Damn it, why did he keep goading her?

Despite his efforts to set his feelings aside for Ally’s sake, the hurt and anger he’d nourished through his incarceration bubbled to the surface. “I had a job I loved, too, you know.”

She stopped on her way out and cut a startled glance over her shoulder.

“I loved being a firefighter. Loved knowing I was making a difference, saving lives, helping my community the only way I knew how. But when I was convicted, I lost my firefighting credentials.”

He saw the question in her eyes and her reluctance to ask it. “No, I can’t get my old job back,” he volunteered. “But I’ve taken a job my parole officer found for me, working road construction with the highway department. I had to have some income, some employment, if I wanted to fight for Ally.”

Libby closed her eyes and turned away. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” He hated the resentment that slipped into his tone when he considered all he’d lost. A loss she’d played a part in.

Pivoting to face him, she straightened her spine and raised her chin. “Yes, I am sorry you lost your job. I know what it meant to you. But sometimes our actions have consequences that reach further than the here and now. If people would stop and think before they went off half-cocked, it would sure make my job simpler.”

He braced a hand on the door frame and leaned closer, breaching the breathing space she’d kept between them all morning. “Libby, you and I both know I don’t do anything half-cocked.”

Color flamed in her cheeks, and though she pursed her lips in a scowl, a flicker of desire danced through her mahogany eyes. So she did remember.

The floral scent of her shampoo tickled his senses, and he battled the urge to kiss her firmly set mouth. He could so easily shock that smugness from her expression, stoke the passion he knew lurked just below the surface.

He settled for giving her a knowing grin. He had time. Time to remind her of the heat they’d once shared. Time to smooth away her prickly edges and find the soft, willing woman he’d known.

Time to warm her back into his bed.

She took a slow, deep breath before answering, clearly composing her reply, struggling to remain calm. With her cool detachment back in place, Libby buttoned her coat. “You know how to reach me.”

By phone maybe, but how did he reach her heart again? How did he break through the stony walls of resistance to find the flesh-and-blood woman he had once loved?

When she opened the door, he caught her arm and turned her to face him. “If Ally feels up to it later, I thought we’d go to Tony’s for pizza. Go with us. I think you should spend a little time getting to know her before we get married.”

She opened her mouth, ready to protest, but finally sighed and gave a quick nod. “I’ll meet you there. Call me when you’re ready to go.”

She shrugged out of his grip and backed out the door. He told himself his disappointment in her abrupt departure had more to do with Ally’s needs than his own. Forget the fact that he’d spent the past two years in prison waiting for his chance to look Libby in the eye and ask her, Why? How did we end up like this?

They’d lost precious years together, but now he had a second chance.

This time, he wouldn’t let her get away.

She couldn’t wait to get out of there.

Libby shifted on the vinyl booth seat and cast an uneasy gaze around the pizzeria.

The atmosphere at the family-oriented restaurant was too…familial. To the casual observer, she, Cal and Ally probably looked like just another happy family enjoying a Saturday night out. Certainly that was the effect Cal was after. But Libby wore the role like outgrown shoes. Playing Cal’s wife pinched and rubbed uncomfortably.

“When you finish eating, we can play some of those video games, if you want,” Cal told Ally, who huddled in the corner of the booth clutching her teddy bear. He flashed Libby an awkward smile. “I’m glad you made it.”

Cal gave a meaningful nod in Ally’s direction.

Libby searched for some gesture to reach the shy girl, when what she wanted was to tell Cal she’d changed her mind. She couldn’t go through with his marriage plans, couldn’t pretend domestic bliss when the concept was so foreign to her. Acting the part of his partner, his friend, his lover, struck far too close to the memories she needed to keep at bay. Letting Cal anywhere near the vicinity of her heart was trouble.

But she had only to look at Ally, still silent, still withdrawn, still watching her and Cal with caution and curiosity in her cerulean eyes, and Libby knew she had no alternative. She had to help Ally.

For once she wished the choice weren’t so clear. The black-and-white of Ally’s situation only made things with Cal more gray. More confusing.

“So, Ally…” Libby studied the tiny girl and floundered for something to say.

How could she face down the most hardened criminals in the courtroom every day, pry confessions out of the most tight-lipped conspirators, yet be left tongue-tied by this wide-eyed child? “Do you think Mr. Bear is going to eat much pizza? I hear that after sleeping all winter, bears can get really hungry.”

Ally hugged her bear tighter, as if she thought Libby would try to steal her stuffed friend.

Libby glanced at Cal and immediately wished she hadn’t. The eager hopefulness in his expression, the desperation and pure love for his daughter, wrenched something deep inside her. Cal stroked Ally’s tumble of raven curls, pushing strands behind her ear with a gentle finger.

His daughter whimpered and turned her face. He backed off, pulling his hand away, palm up, in surrender. The pain that skated across his face sliced through Libby with a jagged edge.

“She barely remembers me,” he whispered darkly. Frustration corded the muscles in his shoulders and arms, and on the table, he balled his hands in tight fists. When he met Libby’s eyes, raw emotion swirled in the piercing blue depths of his gaze. “Since my visitations started, things have gone well enough. I’m trying to explain to her what’s happening, who I am, how much I love her, but she still acts like I’m a stranger to her sometimes.”

“Kids her age are often shy around adults. Give her time.”

“I don’t have time!” he grumbled under his breath. “The hearing on my custody suit comes up in a few weeks.”

“She’ll come around, Cal. Just don’t push her.”

A waitress arrived with their pizza, and Cal quickly replaced his scowl with a tight grin. “Thanks.”

The waitress looked ready to swoon at Cal’s feet. But Libby doubted the waitress saw what she did. The sparkle of his smile didn’t reach his eyes. The tension in his cheeks gave the smile a false edge. Cal at full power, his megawatt grin and laserlike eyes, had enough force to stun, to leave permanent damage.

Turning her attention to the steaming pepperoni-and-cheese concoction, Libby used the spatula to serve a gooey slice onto a plate for Ally. She inhaled the spicy scent of oregano and tomato, and her stomach growled. “Wow, Ally, this looks great. I hope you brought your appetite.”

Bright blue eyes, lit with eagerness, peered out from behind Mr. Bear and grew to the size of pepperoni slices when they landed on the pizza.

“Careful, kitten, it’s hot,” Cal warned as he slid the plate in front of Ally. The little girl cast her father a leery glance then looked longingly at the pizza.

Libby understood the girl’s wariness more than she cared to. Sympathizing with Cal’s daughter, she searched for a way to engage Cal’s attention so that Ally would have the space she needed to eat without feeling in the spotlight.

“So…tell me more about the job you have now with the road crew.”

Cal sent her a puzzled look. “Not much to tell. I help with whatever road construction or repair needs to be done.”

When he turned his attention to Ally again, Libby caught his hand and gave her head a subtle shake. “Give her space,” she mouthed. “Talk to me.”

With a nod, he leaned forward, his gaze now riveted on her. Libby shifted in her seat, bearing the brunt of his piercing gaze for Ally’s sake.

“All right, there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you. What can you tell me about David Ralston? What happened to him after I went to jail?”

It took a moment for the name to register. “Ralston? You mean the guy you—”

“Yeah, the same.” The intensity of his gaze stirred a quiver in her veins. She recalled too well the same intensity burning in his eyes when he’d made love to her.

Libby, you and I both know I don’t do anything half-cocked.

“Actually…I prosecuted his case.”

His eyes widened. “You did?”

She nodded and cleared her throat before she went on. “As soon as he recovered from the injuries you inflicted, Ralston faced charges of his own. We got him for assaulting the woman whose honor you were defending.”

Cal quirked a dark eyebrow. “I’ll be damned.”

Libby sneaked a peek toward Ally, mostly to escape the scrutiny of Cal’s unsettling stare. Free from her father’s surveillance, Ally plucked the pepperoni from her slice of pizza and jammed the pieces in her mouth as fast as she could. A fevered excitement glowed in her eyes, and tomato sauce circled her mouth. Warmth stirred in Libby’s chest.

“Was he convicted? Did he do time?”

Libby snapped her gaze back to Cal. “Yes and no.”

“Meaning?”

Libby picked up her own slice of pizza but found she no longer had an appetite. She set the food back down and met Cal’s querying gaze. Bracing herself for his reaction, she said, “Yes, he was convicted. No, he didn’t serve time. He got a hefty fine, parole and one thousand hours public service.”

Cal rocked back in the booth as if from a physical blow. He gaped at Libby, a parade of emotions—shock, disbelief, horror, and finally fury—crossing his face. Through clenched teeth, he bit out a curse. Obviously realizing his mistake, he winced and shot a glance at Ally.

“I argued for a stiffer penalty, but Ralston’s lawyer played up the guy’s own abuse as a child. Ralston swore on the stand to seek counseling. Obviously, the jury felt he deserved a second chance.” She sighed her own frustration with the verdict and turned to watch the family at the next table.

The father had his arm around his wife’s shoulders, his fingers strumming the woman’s arm in a loving caress. Libby jerked her gaze away when memories of Cal’s hands roaming her skin flashed in her mind’s eye. A tingle raced through her, and her mouth became dry. The hands she’d just envisioned stroking her body reached across the table and caught her wrists.

“Hey, what is it? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Pulling free from the tantalizing warmth of Cal’s grasp, she tugged up a corner of her mouth in a failed grin. “I did.” She sighed. “But I’m okay now.”

Cal poked at his dinner, his somber mood reflected in the grim set of his mouth, the deep furrows in his brow. “Some justice system we have, huh?”

“It works most of the time.”

He lifted a dubious glare. “Not that I can see.”

When he sent his daughter a sideways glance, his eyebrows shot up, and the first real smile to grace his lips all night lit his face.

Libby took in Ally’s empty plate and sauce-smeared face and had to grin herself.

“Hey, kitten. Looks like you’re a member of the Clean Plate Club!” He leaned a little closer to dab a napkin at the mess on Ally’s mouth and chin. “You know that means you get a lollipop for dessert, don’t you?”

Ally arched an eyebrow in a manner so like her father, Libby’s pulse stumbled. The little girl sat an inch or two closer to the table and eyed the remaining slices on the tray. “Is there more?”

“Sure, you can have more, sweetie.” He reloaded her plate and backed off as Ally dived in, once again stripping off the pepperoni for consumption first.

Cal’s relief was palpable. His shoulders relaxed, and the tension flowed out of his jaw, allowing the radiance of his smile to shine through. He turned his dazzling grin toward Libby, and a strange warmth expanded in her chest, stealing her breath.

She’d promised to play family with Cal for as long as it took for him to secure his rights to Ally. How would she ever survive months of marriage if just one night with him and his precious daughter had her emotions twisted in knots?

The only way she saw herself getting through the next several months with her heart intact was to set limits, lay out some ground rules, enforce some safeguards. She watched Cal tuck a wisp of hair behind Ally’s ear and her own skin burned, longing for that tender touch. Libby chafed her arms and looked away.

Rule number one had to be no physical contact. Her relationship with Cal had to stay strictly hands-off.

Or she was a goner.

Chapter 4

“What can you tell me about a guy who calls himself Roach?” Libby tossed her purse in a bottom file drawer on Monday morning and gave Stan a pointed look as she scooted her chair up to her desk.

“Roach? Geez, where’d you run into him?” Stan settled in a chair across from her and bridged his fingers. When he propped one ankle on the opposite knee, his pressed khakis slid up to reveal a pair of green-blue-and-tan argyle socks.

“Long story. So you know the guy? Can you lay your hands on his file for me?”

Adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses, Stan leaned back in his seat. “Gonna tell me why you’re interested in him?”

She shrugged. “Just curious. I have reasons to want to keep an eye on him.”

“Mail call!” Libby’s assistant, Helen, stepped into the office and dropped a pile of envelopes and magazines on Libby’s desk. “‘Morning, Stanley. Good weekend?”

Stan sat straighter and tugged at his tie. “Very good. And you?”

Libby caught the intimate grin Helen sent Stan and jerked her gaze to her colleague in time to see his returned wink. Helen and Stan? She covered her smile with a little cough and began shuffling through the stack of mail.

“Helen, would you be so good as to pull the file on Lawrence White? Look in the case files from about two years ago,” Stan said.

Libby glanced up from sorting out the junk mail for the round file. “Lawrence White?”

“Roach’s brother. You helped send him to Angola a couple years ago for dealing narcotics.”

“Yeah, I remember the case.”

“So what has little brother been up to?” Stan scrunched forward on his chair and propped an arm on her desk.

“I just ran into him this weekend. Seems little brother may have taken over the family business. I’d like a good reason to pin something on him that’ll stick.” She tossed the rest of her mail down with a huff and rubbed her temples.

Stan frowned. “Hey, you okay?”

“Uh-huh. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, besides that threatening letter you showed me last week, I heard that someone followed you to your car Thursday night.”

Libby’s stomach lurched. Cal’s marriage proposal and Ally’s plight may have offered a distraction from her own problems over the weekend, but something had to be done about her stalker. Soon.

“Did you call the cops like you promised? Have you told them what happened the other night on the stairs?”

Libby scowled at Stan. “Wait a minute. You were in court all day on Friday. Where did you hear about the guy following me?”

Besides the police, no one knew about that incident except Cal and…Helen.

Stan shrugged. “Just heard it…around.”

Libby gave Helen a meaningful look.

Her assistant flushed and hurried for the next room. “I think I hear my phone.”

Clearing his throat, Stan picked at the crease in his slacks.

“If Helen told you about Thursday night—” Stan’s guilty grimace confirmed she was right “—I’m surprised she didn’t mention I was up half the night giving the police my statement. I was a zombie most of the day Friday.” She didn’t bother to tell Stan the reason she’d lost so much sleep Thursday night had more to do with Cal and his marriage proposition.

“What did the police say?”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “The usual questions, told me to report anything new. Yada yada.”

“I don’t think you should be so blasé about this.”

She nearly laughed. Blasé? She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and her stomach felt permanently tied in knots. The prospect of marrying Cal didn’t help her state of mind, either.

“Do you think this Roach character is the guy who’s hassling you? Sending those letters?”

Libby shook her head. “No. At least, I don’t have any reason to think so.”

She thought of the menacing voice in the stairwell Thursday night and shuddered.

“I want you to at least have someone walk out with you to your car until this creep is caught.” Stan punctuated his demand by tapping her desk with his finger.

“You sound like a mother hen.”

“I’m a concerned friend. And I’m just talking about using a little caution.”

Libby raised her palms. “I know. You’re right. It’s just that…” Even that tiny precaution felt like giving up a piece of her independence.

After years of taking care of herself, depending on anyone else seemed a step backward. She sighed. “I won’t go out alone, Stan. I promise.”

“Good.” Stan paused and tipped his head in inquiry. “You seem…distracted. You sure you’re telling me everything about this stalker?”

Libby sighed deeply. “I’m fine. I’ve just…got a full plate.”

While she dug in her purse for an aspirin, Stan scooted aside a manila envelope with a pencil and tapped an incriminating blue one in her mail. “What have we here?”

Her breakfast threatened to come up. Slowly, she pulled in air, filling her lungs to loosen the tightness in her chest.

Deep breaths. Don’t lose control.

“Wait, Libby, don’t touch it. They might be able to lift some prints—”

But she was already ripping the letter open, scanning the familiar script. “You can run, but you can’t hide. Next time, I will get you. I will have my revenge.”

Tremors raced through her. Revenge. She hated to think what form that revenge might take. Would she have known this man’s revenge if Cal hadn’t been waiting in the garage on Thursday night?

I can protect you. His presence had protected her in the parking garage. Was it possible that marrying him would prove a sufficient deterrent to the creep trying to terrorize her?

She’d purposely downplayed her concerns about her stalker to Cal, knowing how he’d overreact. If Cal knew the full extent of the stalker’s threats, he’d smother her, never leave her side, try to usurp control. Having him around the house at night for added protection was one thing. Letting Cal take over her life with his overprotectiveness was quite another.

But had she gone too far minimizing the situation with the stalker? She was still worried about Ally, even if Cal felt he was all the protection the girl needed.

Stan grabbed her phone and started jabbing the keypad.

A chilling new thought slid through her mind as she listened to Stan report the new letter to the police. Marrying Cal might not deter her stalker.

It could provoke him.

“Act 894, huh?” Cal’s parole officer flipped through the file on his desk and scribbled notes as he talked.

“That’s right.” Cal sat on the edge of the hard wooden chair opposite the officer and tried not to let the nerves dancing in his stomach show.

As he read, the heavyset parole officer stroked a bushy white mustache, which hid most of his mouth except when he smiled. Fortunately for Cal, Henry Boucheron seemed to smile often. The officer’s good humor boded well for Cal’s relationship with the man who’d play such a large part in his life for the next two years.

“Lucky guy.” Boucheron rocked back in his seat and folded his hands over his barrel chest. “Not too many fellas who come through my office get the chance to erase their record, start fresh.” He flashed Cal one of his ready smiles. “Keep your nose clean, toe the line for the next five years—” he waggled a finger at Cal “—and your record will be expunged.”

Cal simply nodded, not bothering to tell the man his lawyer had already been over the details with him of what Act 894 entailed—a second chance to get his life on track, possibly even be reinstated at the fire department.

God, he wanted that clean record so badly he could taste it. It would be sweet, so sweet, to have his life back, his name cleared. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“The job with the road crew workin’ out all right?”

Tamping the frustration that rolled through him, Cal nodded. “It’s not firefighting, but it’s a job. I’m grateful to have it.”

His P.O. cocked his head and studied him through narrowed eyes. “I know a guy who volunteers for the Clairmont Fire Department just down the road. I believe they’re a bit shorthanded.”

Now the man had his full attention. Cal leaned forward. “A volunteer department?”

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