A Special Forces soldier meets the baby girl he never knew existed in this book in Elle James’s Covert Cowboys, Inc. series.

In a small town in Texas, everyone has a secret. Especially Chuck Bolton. Formerly a Special Forces soldier, Chuck now poses as a ranch handyman. His real mission? To protect his ex-fiancée, and the baby girl he never knew they’d created, from a malevolent masked man.

Who is behind the attack—and what could they possibly want with Peggy Jane (“PJ”) Franks? While the answer remains unclear, one thing is certain: Chuck never stopped loving PJ after she left him. And PJ, afraid of falling for the same man who broke her heart, doesn’t want to repeat history. But that’s the least of her worries when her enemy’s motive is finally revealed.

The sound of Charlie cooing made Chuck’s heart skip several beats.

Chuck glanced at PJ standing with her back to him. “How was it? Your pregnancy, the delivery? I want to know.”

“I did fine.”

“I would have been there…”

“I know you would have. If you could have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Chuck tipped Charlie into the crook of his arm and stared down into her little face.

“Your focus needed to be on staying alive,” PJ said. “What was the point in telling you?”

His anger stirred again. “The point is, I’m Charlie’s father.”

“And if there had been complications, what could you have done from Afghanistan?”

Chuck sighed. “Nothing.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“I won’t try to keep you from seeing Charlie,” PJ said.

Chuck liked the strong, determined woman she’d grown into in the year he’d been away, and found himself even more attracted to her than before. But he wasn’t as sure about where they stood, or if he trusted her with his heart.

Bodyguard Under Fire

Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A Golden Heart Award winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, ELLE JAMES started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing fulltime. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink.net or visit her website at www. ellejames.com.

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This book is dedicated to my father who sacrificed a lot for his country and his family. He’s the rock in my life and I love him so much.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Chuck Bolton—Wounded soldier returning to Wild Oak Canyon to join Hank Derringer’s team, Covert Cowboys, Inc.

PJ Franks—Waitress at Cara Jo’s diner, going to night school to make a better life for her and her baby girl.

Cara Jo Smithson—Owner of Cara Jo’s Diner, new manager of the Wild Oak Canyon Resort, and PJ’s friend.

Hank Derringer—Billionaire willing to take the fight for justice into his own hands by setting up CCI—Covert Cowboys, Inc.

Emilio Montalvo—Wealthy Mexican investor with possible connections to a ruthless drug cartel.

Ricardo Iglesias—Mexican guest at the Wild Oak Canyon Resort with an interest in getting to know PJ.

Ross Felton—Hardware store owner’s surly grandson with a knack for all things to do with computers.

Dana Perkins—Woman who looks after PJ’s baby while PJ works and goes to school.

Brandon Pendley—Hank Derringer’s computer guru, responsible for setting up the Raging Bull Ranch security system.

Alana Rodriguez—A woman Hank Derringer helped escape from a bad situation twenty-five years ago.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Excerpt

Chapter One

Chuck Bolton walked to the edge of town, working the kinks out of his bum leg, his limp more pronounced after his two-hour ride on one of the resort nags, housed in the old-fashioned livery stable.

He hadn’t had much call to ride in the military, spending most of his time on foot or in an armor-plated vehicle, patrolling the villages and Taliban-riddled hillsides of Afghanistan.

He’d still be there had he not turned all Rambo and gone off the deep end. Some called him a hero. His commander called him an idiot for risking his life. But other than ending his military career, he couldn’t regret his vigilante justice on the Taliban stronghold he’d leveled to the ground single-handed.

After what they’d done to that kid...

Chuck shook his head to clear the images. That was the past. Wild Oak Canyon and Covert Cowboys, Inc. were his future.

On the edge of town, looking south, he drew in a deep breath of hot, dry air and let it out. Not many understood the lure of this parched desert or chose to live here. Outsiders didn’t last long, not with miles and miles of flat, unchanging terrain, with the Davis Mountains rising in the distance, appearing closer than they actually were.

Hell, Chuck might not have come back had he not been invited to join CCI, the secret organization billionaire ranch owner Hank Derringer had started recently. Wild Oak Canyon held too many memories, both good and bad.

Everywhere he turned he ran into mental images of PJ.

PJ riding a horse across the desert landscape, PJ smiling up at him from their favorite swimming hole, begging him to join her, PJ telling him she’d love him forever...

Forever had been all too short. She’d begged him not to volunteer for the rotation to Afghanistan, wanting him to wait until his unit was called up, giving them a little more time together before he was put into harm’s way. His Army National Guard unit hadn’t been due for rotation for another twelve months when a call went out for volunteers.

Chuck had insisted on going, telling her duty called and he had to go.

They’d argued, Chuck had said things he wished he hadn’t, his temper getting the better of him. Looking back, he could see that PJ had been scared, afraid of losing him. And he’d pushed her away so effectively she’d ended their engagement, throwing the ring in his face shortly before he’d left for predeployment training at Fort Hood.

God, he’d been so stubborn. If only he’d said he was sorry, they might be married by now. He wouldn’t be wandering the streets of Wild Oak Canyon in search of what he’d lost.

Yeah, and if wishes were horses, he probably would have been bucked off on his butt anyway.

Bottom line was that he was back. He hadn’t had the nerve to look up PJ yet and wouldn’t. That didn’t stop his gaze from searching every face passing by on foot or in cars and trucks.

So far, he hadn’t seen her. For all he knew, she might not be here at all. The last correspondence he’d had from her was a letter asking where she could send the things he’d accumulated at her house. The address had been the same house she’d lived in with her mother in Wild Oak Canyon, but that had been a year ago. A lot changed in a year. He’d driven by that address when he’d gotten to town. A Hispanic family with two small children lived there now.

Chuck performed a clumsy about-face and headed back to the Wild Oak Canyon Resort staff quarters, his temporary lodging for the assignment Hank had given him.

His cover was as a handyman, fixing things around the resort and Cara Jo’s Diner, adjacent to the resort compound. Cara Jo Smithson, the most recent owner of the diner and the new property manager for the resort, would give him the particulars about the real assignment. He was to be a bodyguard for one of her employees. No one was to know that but Hank, Cara Jo and Chuck. Not even the employee. What was so special about that person that he needed protecting? Chuck wouldn’t know until Cara Jo returned from her supply run to Fort Stockton. She’d fill him in with all the particulars of the case then.

Hank had given him a key to one of the rooms in the resort staff quarters. The room was at the back of the resort closest to the diner. From what he could tell, there were only two staff rooms in this wing of the resort, and they shared a bathroom down the hall.

After settling his duffle bag in the room, Chuck had examined the exterior of the diner and the resort compound. Wild Oak Canyon’s Main Street and the resort had a quaint Wild West theme with weathered-wood storefronts, an old-style barbershop, a general store and a saloon with a hitching post out front. Cara Jo’s Diner was just like the rest of the town, only some of the weathered wood needed repair before someone got hurt or the building suffered further damage from wind and the elements.

Chuck noted weatherworn boards peeling up on the porch, along with a splintered railing and loose shingles on the roof. One of the eaves had rotted through and would need replacing. As soon as he had sufficient supplies, he’d go to work on those little fix-it items. They wouldn’t keep him busy for long. He hoped there was more work to be done on the inside of the resort or maybe the old livery stable. He preferred working outside, especially around animals. They weren’t as judgmental as people.

Until he had the supplies and his marching orders, he was at loose ends with energy to burn. Thus the ride, followed by a walk to the end of town and back.

Temperatures hovered close to ninety, even after the sun set and the stars came out to fill the night sky with their brilliance.

Chuck headed to the resort. The back door to the office remained locked, no light inside indicating Ms. Smithson’s return.

Sweaty and smelling of horse, Chuck decided on a shower before his meeting with the boss lady and clumped up the stairs to his room. After gathering soap, shaving gear and a towel, he slipped off his boots and socks and headed down the hallway.

A noise in the room beside his had him leaning in toward the door. A baby cried, and a woman’s voice talked softly, soothing it.

Chuck knocked on the door. Was Ms. Smithson younger than he’d thought? Did she have a baby?

After a long moment the door opened to a slim, pale-skinned young woman with dark hair piled in a messy bun on the back of her head. She clutched a baby in her arms, balancing a bottle under her chin as she juggled the door handle and tried to look up at him. “Yes?” she managed without dropping her chin-hold on the bottle.

“Are you Cara Jo?” Chuck asked.

She let go of the door and gripped the bottle, holding it for the baby to feed. “Oh, no, I’m Dana. Cara Jo is the owner of the diner. She lives above it.”

“Sorry, I’m supposed to meet with her about a job. I’m your new neighbor.” He jerked his head to the left toward his apartment door.

“Oh, you must be the handyman.” She balanced the bottle with her chin again and held out her hand. “I’m Dana. Cara Jo should be back any minute. She left early this morning for Fort Stockton to get supplies for the resort and diner. They said they’d be back by nine tonight. It’s almost nine now.”

“I’m Chuck Bolton. Nice to meet you, Dana.”

“Good to have a handyman around again. My, but you are very tall.”

He smiled. He got that a lot. At six feet five inches, he tended to be taller than most men. “I can see that you’re busy. I won’t bother you.” He glanced down at the baby, a bubbly, milky smile spreading across her face. Her brown hair curled across her forehead, and the big brown eyes were in sharp contrast to Dana’s cornflower-blue eyes. “Cute baby.”

Dana smiled down at the child in her arms. “Hear that, Charlie? He thinks you’re cute. Me, too, my sweet little baby girl.”

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” He chucked the baby under the chin and she reached out, snagging his finger in her tight little grip. “A little tiger, aren’t you?” He smiled down at the baby, his heart squeezing in his chest. He’d had dreams of him and PJ raising a family together. A strapping brown-haired, brown-eyed boy like him, and an angelic blond-haired, green-eyed girl the spitting image of her mother.

The phone rang in the apartment behind Dana. “Excuse me. Nice to meet you.”

Chuck turned away as Dana shut the door.

Yet another reminder of PJ and the family they should have had. He needed to get over her and get on with his life.

It just wasn’t that easy.

* * *

CARA JO DROVE the truck behind the resort and backed up close to the rear entrance of the diner. “I don’t know about you, but I’m past exhausted. What say we leave most of this stuff in the back until tomorrow, when we can get some help unloading?”

Peggy Jane Franks dropped down out of the truck and stretched. “Agreed. We can grab the perishables and store them in the walk-in refrigerator and call it a night. I want to see Charlie.”

Mentioning her daughter made PJ smile. An entire day away from her baby made PJ miss her so much it hurt.

Cara Jo dropped the tailgate and slid the ice chests full of everything from butter to frozen yogurt to the edge. The normal delivery truck had broken down in Fort Stockton, and they were running low on supplies. Otherwise they wouldn’t have made the long drive themselves.

Once they had the food stored in the freezer and refrigerator in the restaurant, PJ hurried up the back stairs of the resort, hoping to catch Charlie awake. They’d arrived later than she’d expected, and Dana would be tired and ready to go home.

PJ fit her key in the lock of her small apartment and pushed the door open. “Hey, Dana, I’m home.”

Dana looked up from bending over the crib, situated just inside the bedroom door. “Oh, it’s you.”

PJ laughed. “Yeah, it’s me. Expecting anyone else?”

Dana smiled. “No, no. I just met the new handyman Cara Jo hired out in the hallway a few minutes ago. I thought maybe he got lost on his way back to his room.”

“How’s my sweet Charlie?” PJ crossed the room, anxious to hold her daughter.

Dana lifted the baby out of her crib and handed her to PJ. “She was just about to nod off, but when she heard your voice, her eyes popped wide open.”

PJ smiled down at Charlie and hugged her against her. “Hey, sweetie, did you miss your mommy?”

Charlie cooed up at her, a toothless smile spreading across her face.

“Of course she did. The sun rises and sets on you, in Miss Charlie’s eyes.” Dana stared down at the child in PJ’s arms. “You’re so very lucky.”

“I know.” PJ kissed Charlie’s cheek. Charlie was a perfect baby, full of joy and so easy to take care of. Everyone loved her.

Dana touched PJ’s shoulder. “I gotta run. Tommy will be yowling for dinner.”

PJ glanced up. “This late?”

“You’d think the man didn’t know what a microwave oven was. I bet he didn’t bother to get the plate I left for him this morning out of the refrigerator.” Dana laughed and smiled at Charlie. “She was an angel.”

“Ha. I’ll bet she wore you out.”

“Not at all. I didn’t mind watching her a bit.” Dana’s eyes glistened.

“You’re a natural, Dana. Have you talked to the doctor again? Is there anything you can do?”

“It’s in God’s hands.” Dana smiled through unshed tears. “Two miscarriages must be a sign it isn’t meant to be.”

“Don’t talk like that. It’ll happen when you least expect it.” As it had happened for PJ.

“I’m not getting my hopes up. Been there too many times and cried buckets of tears.” Dana hugged PJ. “Take care of my baby. I think I could love her as much as you do.” Dana left, closing the door behind her.

Alone at last with Charlie, PJ dropped into her rocking chair. It wouldn’t take much for Charlie to fall asleep, but PJ wanted to hold her a little longer. The sweet scent of baby shampoo and powder filled her senses and gave her a feeling of home.

After a few minutes Charlie slept, her mouth working a sucking motion, the fingers of one hand bunched into a tiny fist. She looked so much like her father—brown hair, brown eyes and ready for a fight.

PJ chuckled, her laughter catching on a sob. She missed Chuck so much she thought she might die sometimes. If not for sweet Charlie, she might have lost the will to live altogether.

Still wearing the clothes she’d traveled in, PJ felt wrinkled, covered in road grime and in need of a shower to wash away the stress of the long drive.

She laid Charlie in her crib and gathered clothing, a bathrobe and toiletries. Switching on the baby monitor, PJ tucked the receiver in her pocket and headed for the door to her suite. She exited and turned to lock the door behind her.

The bathroom was between her suite and the only other staff apartment in this section of the building. When she opened the door, a waft of warm, moist air and a scent she could never forget enveloped her.

Someone had used the shower. Must be the new handyman Cara Jo had spoken of on their trip to Fort Stockton.

PJ’s stomach clenched, and her fingers tightened around the doorknob. The new guy would have to use the same soap Chuck had, and damned if he didn’t also use the same cologne. As tired as she was, PJ could barely hold it together as the aromas washed over her, bringing back memories best left in the back of her mind.

She had to have a shower and didn’t have another option close enough to her room that the monitor would carry to, so PJ closed the door behind her. Her hands shook as she set the monitor on the sink and turned it up loud enough that she could hear it over the water’s spray.

With quick, efficient movements, she flung off her clothes and stepped beneath the cool spray. She was fast about her showers, concerned about leaving Charlie alone too long.

After a quick shampoo and rinse, she ducked her head around the curtain and listened to the monitor. A reassuring staticky silence was all she heard. As she closed the shower curtain, a different sound carried over the speaker.

Click.

PJ strained her ears.

Click.

She shut off the water and listened more intently.

Click.

Then a sharp sound, like something falling, echoed through the monitor.

What the hell?

PJ pulled on her pajama bottoms and top, grabbed her key and flung the bathroom door open.

The door to her apartment stood open.

PJ’s heart slammed to a halt and then kicked into high gear. She had been careful to close and lock the door when she’d left. As she stared into her dark apartment, fear rooted her to the floor for only a moment.

Her baby daughter was in that room. Cold dread filled her and she shot forward, ready to take down anyone who threatened to harm...

“Charlie,” she said and launched forward.

When she stepped through the open door, a dark figure wearing a black ski mask grabbed her and flung her inside.

PJ screamed and scurried backward and then turned to run. She made it only one step before a hand latched onto her hair and yanked her backward.

PJ screamed again, her cry cut off by a large gloved hand clamping down over her mouth. She bit into it, her teeth barely making a dent in the thick leather glove.

She kicked and slammed her elbow into his gut, but he wouldn’t release her hair, the pressure on the roots pulling her skin tight over her forehead, pain radiating through her scalp.

All PJ could think about was Charlie. She had to protect her from this madman. Giving up was not an option. She stomped hard on the man’s instep and he yelled, let go of her hair and backhanded her so hard she flew across the room, tripped over the couch and fell against an end table. The lamp on the table teetered. PJ grabbed it and swung it at the man’s head. The ceramic base hit him in the ear and shattered.

He grabbed the electric cord, ripped it from the wall and wrapped it around PJ’s neck, pulling it tight.

PJ’s fingers fumbled for the cord, panic setting in as her vision blurred, her air cut off. No. She couldn’t die. Charlie needed her. She kicked and twisted, managing only to tighten the cord around her throat. It couldn’t end this way. She wouldn’t let it happen.

The man lifted her to her feet and dragged her backward toward the door.

PJ’s feet flailed beneath her, her strength fading with lack of oxygen. She focused on the crib in the bedroom and gave new effort to saving her own skin. With all the force she could muster, she brought her heel up hard between her attacker’s legs.

The man grunted and slumped forward, jerking harder on the cord around her neck.

Her world faded and her strength drained. She couldn’t give up.

A loud crash sounded behind her as her apartment door slammed inward, bouncing off the wall. PJ heard it but couldn’t see who’d entered. All she could hope was that the cavalry had arrived to save her and Charlie.

Her attacker jerked, releasing his hold on the cord around PJ’s neck.

PJ pitched forward to her hands and knees and crawled away, dragging in huge gulps of air. When she turned, the man in black sailed through the air toward her.

She threw herself to the side in time to avoid the collision.

The man hit the ground hard, rolled to his feet and dived for the sliding glass door leading onto the balcony, slamming it open.

Her savior charged after him, naked to the waist, his body glistening with droplets of water.

It all happened so fast, PJ didn’t see his face, only his hulking size and rippling, well-toned muscles flashing past.

The attacker in black launched himself over the balcony and dropped to the pavement below, disappearing out of sight. The bare-chested man braced his hands on the rail, his muscles bunched, ready to follow, and then he hesitated.

He stood with his back to PJ for a long, agonizing moment. Would he jump?

PJ prayed he wouldn’t. She didn’t wish for her hero to be hurt in the fall. At long last, he turned to face her.

Ready to thank her rescuer, PJ’s breath left her lungs in a rush.

“Oh, dear God.” She pressed her fist to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears, all her hopes and fears of ever seeing this man again wrapped up in one word. “Chuck.”

PJ’s world faded into black.

Chapter Two

Chuck’s instinct had been to leap over the railing and chase after the black-clad attacker and pummel him into a bloody pulp for terrorizing his neighbor. As he’d bent his knees to do just that, pain ripped through his bad leg, reminding him that he couldn’t and shouldn’t drop fifteen feet to the ground if he wanted to keep the leg to walk on. Even if his leg survived the landing, he wasn’t up to running full speed yet.

Defeat rode heavily on his shoulders as he swung back to the woman pulling herself to her feet in the doorway.

She shifted in the shadows, and the overhead light illuminated her sandy-blond hair.

Chuck’s heart burst into a gallop, pounding against his ribs. The throbbing pain in his bum leg faded to the back of his mind as joy filled him at the sight of her. He stepped forward.

Her eyes widened and she stepped back. “Chuck?”

“PJ?”

And she crumpled to the floor.

Had he been able, he’d have caught her before she landed. His injury-induced limitations hampered him in his rush to get to her.

Chuck gathered PJ into his arms, his heart plummeting to the bottom of his belly at her reaction when she’d recognized him.

The entire time he’d been in the oppressive heat and constant dust of Afghanistan, he’d pictured her coming to greet him upon his return, arms wide, a smile of happiness lighting her eyes. In the back of his mind, he’d known it was only a dream.

The stark reality of her standing in front of him, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, her face blanching before she passed out, shattered those silly dreams.

She was no happier to see him return than she had been to see him leave. Shock best described her response.

Crushed, Chuck held her, cherishing every second he could feel her against him. He examined the bruising around her throat, anger firming his spine, pushing aside his deep disappointment. Who would attack a lone woman like that? Why would anyone want to hurt PJ? Since he hadn’t spoken to Cara Jo yet, he couldn’t be certain, but he’d bet his right arm that this was the employee Hank wanted protected.

Chuck had walked into this assignment blind. Hank had assured him Cara Jo would fill him in on what his duties were and, when he had met the employee, he could go to Hank with any unanswered questions.

Chuck had a few, and the sooner he got his answers the better.

After only a moment, PJ’s face stirred against his chest and her eyes blinked open. “Chuck, what are you doing here? I thought you were still in Afghanistan.” She pushed to a sitting position.

His lips tightened. Had he not been a loose cannon and acted on his own, he would still be in Afghanistan for another two months, fighting with his unit. Instead he’d gotten himself shot in the leg and medically discharged out of the army. “The army didn’t need me there after all.” It wasn’t a lie. The army didn’t need broken soldiers.

“Oh.” Her gaze traveled across his naked chest, her cheeks reddening. “Why are you half-naked?”

His lips twisted into a wry grin. “I just hired on with the resort as the handyman. I live down the hall.” He frowned. “Why are you in this apartment? I met a woman here a little while ago named Donna or Dana or something like that. She had a baby.”

The baby whimpered from inside the bedroom as if emphasizing Chuck’s question.

PJ’s face paled at the sound, her gaze shifting to the crib against the wall inside the next room. She pushed his hands aside and rose to her feet. “I live here.”

Chuck straightened, heat rushing up his neck into his head. Like a zombie, he trudged toward the bedroom, his fists tightening, a sharp pain pinching his chest. “Then who is...?” In the dimly lit room, Chuck peered down at the baby with a tuft of silky dark hair, and his world crashed in around him as he remembered what Dana had said. “She called her Charlie,” he said, his voice raspy, uneven.

PJ entered the room, switched on a lamp and leaned over the crib, running her fingers over the baby’s face and body. “She seems to be okay.”

The baby slept through PJ’s touch, a soft smile curling her little lips, as if she knew she was safe and in good hands. “I named her after her father,” PJ whispered.

“Charlie.” Chuck’s fingers curled around the crib rail so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

PJ sighed. “You were in Afghanistan. What could you have done? From what I know, the army doesn’t grant leave from a war zone just so a man can be there when his baby is born, unless under dire circumstances.”

“I had a right to know.” His words came out sharper than he intended, but hell, what did she expect? A man didn’t learn he had a daughter every day. The news had his belly flipping into knots.

“So, now you know.” PJ brushed her fingers over her daughter’s hair and stepped back. “You have a right to be angry. But I didn’t know what else to do. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw, and he had to breathe several calming breaths before he could speak again. “Call the police.”

PJ passed through the small living area and into the kitchen. Her purse lay strewn across the counter. She dug her cell phone out of a side pocket, hit three buttons and then walked back to the threshold of the bedroom, her gaze on the baby in the crib. “This is PJ Franks at the Wild Oak Canyon Resort. I need to report an intruder attack.”

When she’d given details to the dispatcher, she hung up and glanced at Chuck. “They’re sending a unit.”

Chuck straightened and crossed to her, his fingers reaching out to touch her throat. “We should have asked for an ambulance, as well.”

Her eyes filled, but she shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” She raised her hands to the bruising around her neck and gulped. “I was so afraid.” PJ’s head dipped.

Chuck pulled her into his arms. No matter how mad he was, he never could stand to see PJ cry, and after seeing a man choking the life out of her, now was no different. “He’s gone.”

“Yeah, but why was he here in the first place?” She pushed away from him and wandered back into the living room.

Chuck followed. “Is anything missing?”

She checked her purse, thumbing through her wallet. What few bills she’d had were still there, along with her credit card and identification. “The items were scattered across the counter, but nothing seems to be missing.”

“What about the rest of the apartment?”

“I don’t have anything of value. Just a few keepsakes and used furniture. As a waitress, I can’t afford much.” PJ continued around the room, her fingers skimming across the top of the old couch Cara Jo had given her. She ducked into her bedroom and came back out, holding a photo frame, a frown denting her forehead. “This photo is the only thing out of place. It was standing on my nightstand when I left for my shower. I just found it lying on its face.”

“The intruder could have knocked it over.” Chuck reached for the frame.

PJ handed it over. “It’s a picture of me and my birth mother.”

A woman looking remarkably like PJ held a child in her arms and was smiling for the photographer. Her eyes were shadowed, but the love for her little girl was clear in her expression.

“She died when you were little, didn’t she?”

PJ nodded. “I was six. My adoptive mother, Terri Franks, pretty much raised me. We moved to Wild Oak Canyon before I started high school.”

Chuck remembered the pretty young PJ hanging out around the stables, talking to the horses. She’d been more comfortable with the animals than with people.

A knock on the door was followed by a man’s voice. “PJ Franks? Sheriff’s Deputy Johnny Owen. You called?”

PJ hurried to open the door for the officer.

He took her statement, in which she described the attacker, what he wore and which direction he’d gone.

Chuck searched the apartment, analyzing everything he saw for clues as to who had broken into PJ’s apartment and why. All the while he fought to process the miracle of the baby in the next room. His child.

When Owen finished with PJ, the deputy asked Chuck a few questions and then tucked the pad of paper into his pocket and sighed. “Since the man was wearing gloves, I don’t see a need to dust for prints. I’ll have a look around outside to see if there are any footprints on the ground, but—”

“It’s been dry, and the chance of a footprint showing up is slim to none,” Chuck finished. “Thanks for trying.”

After the deputy left, Chuck made a round of the apartment, checking the windows and sliding glass door locks.

When he’d deemed them secure, he met PJ at her open apartment door.

“It’s getting late,” she said. “I need to get some sleep before I hit the day shift at the diner.”

“Will you be all right?” Chuck stepped into the door frame and gripped PJ’s arms, his gaze capturing hers.

“I’ll be fine.” The shadows beneath her eyes spoke of her exhaustion and the lingering fear.

Fine, humph. Chuck wanted to hold her so badly, it hurt to drop his grip from her arms and walk out into the hallway. “If you need me...”

“You’re just a yell away.” She gave him a half smile.

Chuck nodded toward the interior of her apartment. “She’s beautiful.”

PJ’s face reddened, and she nodded. “We’ll discuss Charlie tomorrow.”

“Yes, we will.” Now that Chuck knew he had a daughter, he was determined to be a part of her life, whether PJ wanted him in her life or not.

PJ closed the door behind him.

Chuck waited until he heard the click of the lock being engaged. Then he hurried down the hallway to his room, grabbed a sleeping bag and a pillow and returned to bed down in front of PJ’s door. As he stretched out on the floor and worked the kink out of his leg, he reminded himself that it beat sleeping in a foxhole. And he refused to let anything happen to PJ and his precious baby daughter, Charlie.

Once he was settled, he grabbed his cell phone and hit the speed dial number for Hank Derringer.

The older man answered on the third ring. “Derringer,” he said, his voice scratchy and slurred with sleep.

“Hank, Chuck here. Tell me my assignment was just some sick joke on your part.”

Hank sighed. “I take it you met PJ?”

“I did. You didn’t tell me I’d be protecting my ex-fiancée.”

“If I had, would you have taken the job?”

Chuck wanted to tell the man he would have, but truth was, he probably would have told Hank where to go with his job and assignment. “No.”

“And now?” Hank asked.

With a sigh, Chuck answered. “You know damn well I can’t walk away.”

“I take it you met your daughter, Charlie?”

Chuck swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “Yes.”

“Beautiful baby girl, isn’t she?” Hank chuckled. “Looks like her father.”

“How did you know?” Chuck asked.

“Let’s just say I make it my business to know as much as I can about the people I hire. And I have a special interest in PJ that I won’t go into at this time.”

“Now that I’m here and know who I’m supposed to protect, maybe you can tell me why someone tried to kill PJ tonight.”

* * *

AFTER PJ LOCKED the door behind Chuck, she’d leaned her head against the cool, wooden panel, telling herself to breathe.

Chuck still had too much of a hold on her, even after almost a year’s separation. She thought pushing him out of her life had been the best decision at the time. Now she wasn’t quite as convinced. Breaking their engagement had been only a part of it.

Even if Chuck hadn’t insisted on volunteering, PJ suspected she’d have found another way to push him away. They’d gotten too close. She’d fallen too hard, and it scared her.

What was she afraid of? Why had she been so hesitant to allow him past the barriers she’d built around herself and her heart?

All her life, her adoptive mother had kept her from playing with others, refusing to let her out of her sight for long. She’d instilled in PJ a lack of trust in people and a determination to live a life independent of others. PJ had found companionship in the horses she loved at the resort stables, volunteering to muck out stalls and exercise the animals.

Chuck had been there, working quietly around her, his love of the animals equal to her own. Over time, he’d overcome her shyness and they’d gone riding together and talked. He’d taught her how to laugh again, something she thought she’d never do. And PJ had fallen in love with the big ex-football jock cowboy, breaking her self-imposed rule not to invest her heart in anyone but to rely solely on herself.

She’d gone so far as to accept his proposal of marriage and actually started dreaming of a wedding and happily ever after.

Until Chuck’s National Guard unit had asked for volunteers to deploy and Chuck had raised his hand.

PJ’s world had caved in around her. She’d been heartbroken that Chuck would want to leave her and go to war. All she could see in her future was how alone she’d be. Her adoptive mother wouldn’t be around forever, her health having deteriorated over the past several years.

She’d been so upset, she’d thrown his ring in his face and told him she never wanted to see him again. Looking back, she realized how childish she’d been.

She hadn’t been there to see him off when he’d left for predeployment training. Hadn’t told him that she’d missed her period and suspected she was pregnant.

For a short time, PJ thought she could handle being a part of another person’s life. But then Chuck had left. Not long afterward, Terri Franks died of a heart attack, leaving her alone in the world, without money or a home to live in. She’d been saving money for years so that someday she could afford to start college online and study animal husbandry. When Terri died, all the money had gone to pay for Terri’s funeral.

Terri had been renting the house they lived in. When she’d passed, PJ had gone to work instead of college in order to pay the rent. But the rent had been too much for the meager earnings she’d gotten from the odd jobs she was able to get around town. Without family or a degree and any formal experience, she was destitute and alone. Everyone she’d ever loved was gone, making her promise herself never to get too close to anyone, lest they die and leave her.

Then Charlie came along....

A voice outside her door brought her out of her sad memories and across the room to press her ear to the door. From the deep timbre and pitch, PJ could tell it was Chuck. She peered through the peephole but couldn’t see him.

Something shuffled against the outside of the door. What was he doing?

She pressed her ear harder against the door and listened.

“She had a scare, but she’s all right,” Chuck was saying to someone.

Who was he talking to?

“Whoever broke in tonight won’t try again. He’ll have to go through me to get to her.”

PJ smiled, feeling better about going to sleep now than she had a few moments before.

Apparently Chuck planned to sleep in front of her door.

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Something bumped softly against the door, and all went silent.

PJ pressed a hand to the door. Chuck was on the other side. So close, and yet a huge chasm stretched between them. She’d kept knowledge of his daughter from him.

Even if he forgave her, she wasn’t sure she could let him back in her life.

Chapter Three

PJ rose early the next morning, fed Charlie, dressed and loaded the diaper bag with frozen breast milk and diapers for the day care. She had to be at the diner for the first shift.

She dreaded opening the door and waking Chuck after he’d spent the night sleeping in the hall. A twinge of guilt pinched her chest at the thought of him lying on a hard vinyl-tile floor all night, while she’d had a soft mattress and pillows to cushion her.

With the words to thank him poised on her lips, she hooked the infant carrier with Charlie in it on one arm and the diaper bag on the other and eased open the door.

The hallway was empty. Chuck’s door was closed. Had he slept outside all night or just part of it?

PJ let go of the breath she’d been holding, relieved she wouldn’t have to confront him yet. She’d spent the better part of the rest of her night tossing and turning, thinking about the man who’d attacked her, and more so, the one sleeping on the other side of her door.

She’d known that one day she’d have to tell Chuck about Charlie, and she’d been fully intending to tell him upon his return from his deployment. She thought she had two more months. The day had come sooner than she’d anticipated, and she hadn’t been ready.

PJ exited the building and hurried toward her car, hoping she wouldn’t run into Chuck outside. Charlie had fallen asleep in her infant carrier even before they’d left the apartment. Her little eyes scrunched as the full force of the morning sunlight shone down on her tiny face.

PJ juggled the carrier to unlock the car. Charlie whimpered but remained asleep.

As she settled the carrier into the car, PJ’s skin prickled and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She cast a glance over her shoulder.

No one was there, although she could have sworn a shadow shifted at the corner of the building. Snapping the seat into place, PJ straightened and faced the back of the resort building.

“Anyone there?” she called out, her voice shaky, her knees even shakier.

No answer. A curtain was pushed aside in a window above and Chuck peered down, half of his face covered in shaving cream.

Warmth filled PJ’s neck and cheeks. The man was ageless and looked as good today as he had a year ago when she’d been young and stupid in love. Seeing him standing there with his razor in his hand made PJ’s heart turn cartwheels against her ribs.

Chuck disappeared and reappeared at the sliding glass door on the balcony of his room, bare-chested, a towel slung over one shoulder. “Are you okay?” he called out.

The heat built in her cheeks as she nodded. “I’m fine.”

“I thought I heard you call out.”

“I talk to myself sometimes.” Feeling foolish and paranoid, she gave him half a smile. “Gotta go.” PJ slipped behind the wheel of her beat-up car and closed the door to avoid further conversation with the father of her child. What else could she say while standing in the parking lot and him hanging over the balcony? Welcome back? Sorry I didn’t tell you about your baby? Or, damn, you look good?

She shifted into Reverse, backed out of the parking space and pulled out onto the road. A glance in her rearview mirror confirmed that Chuck was still standing on the balcony, watching her. Below, at the corner of the building, something moved. PJ frowned, slowed the vehicle and shot a quick glance over her shoulder at the resort.

Nothing.

She supposed paranoia was bound to be a result of postattack jitters. With a shrug, she turned the corner and drove to the church day care on the other side of town where Charlie spent her days with Dana, who worked there part-time, and the other ladies who ran the child care program. She’d been going there since PJ started to work for Cara Jo at the diner two months prior.

PJ worked mornings, lunch and early afternoon. Late afternoon, she spent either at her computer or in the library taking college courses online.

Dana met her at the door to the infant room. “Running a little late, aren’t you?”

PJ dropped the diaper bag on the floor and slid the infant carrier off her arm. Dana took the carrier and set it on a counter, unbuckling Charlie from the restraints. “Hey, sweetie, come see Auntie Dana.”

Charlie’s eyes blinked open, and she stared up at Dana.

Regret tugged at PJ’s heart that she had to spend so much time away from her daughter. But she’d made a commitment to build a better life for herself and Charlie, and the only way she could do that was to get a degree. And she wouldn’t have been able to do that if not for the scholarship she’d received from an anonymous benefactor.

Dana lifted Charlie into her arms and stared across her downy hair to PJ. “So, did you meet him?”

“Meet who?” PJ pulled the bottles of breast milk from the diaper bag and settled them into the refrigerator, determined to ignore Dana’s questions. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop the slow burn rising in her cheeks at the mere mention of her new neighbor in the resort apartments.

A smile spread across Dana’s face. “You did. Isn’t he hunky?”

“Dana, you’re married. What would Tommy say?”

She shrugged. “I’m married, not dead. And I’m only thinking of you, not myself.”

PJ’s lips twisted into a half smile. “I know him.”

“You do?”

“Yes, we dated for a while.”

“Shut up. You’re kidding, right? That gorgeous hunk?”

Knowing it would be out before long, PJ kissed Charlie, her heart pinching tight. Then she crossed to the door, her hand resting on the knob, ready to yank and run. “Look, I have to get to work. But you should know that the man you met last night is Charlie’s father.” She opened the door.

“Oh, no you didn’t.” Dana advanced on her, carrying Charlie. “You didn’t just hit-and-run. You have to stay and tell me everything.”

“I can’t. I’m already late for work. I promise we’ll talk this afternoon when I pick up Charlie.”

“Darn right you will.” Dana smiled down at Charlie. “And we’ll spend all day talking about your daddy, won’t we, sweet baby?”

PJ slipped out before she broke down in front of Dana. After the attack last night, the intense joy of seeing Chuck for the first time in almost a year and then breaking the news of Charlie to him, PJ was emotionally wrung out. And she hadn’t even pulled her eight-hour shift yet.

She trudged to her car and hurried back the way she’d come, anxious to dive into work so that she could forget everything else.

Ha. As if that would happen. With Chuck hired on as the handyman, she didn’t have a chance.

Cara Jo cornered her as soon as she entered the diner with its black and white tiled floor and fifties-style tables and chairs. “I can’t believe I slept right through everything.”

PJ shook her head. “I take it you heard about the incident last night.” She stepped around the counter and tucked her purse behind the stash of paper towels.

“I didn’t hear anything. No sirens, no screaming, nothing. I had to hear it from a deputy who’d stopped in for coffee this morning.” Cara Jo grabbed PJ’s arms. “Are you okay?”

PJ smiled. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That bastard didn’t hurt you?”

A chill rippled across PJ’s skin, and she touched the base of her throat where the lamp cord had almost been the death of her. “Not much. Just scared the fool out of me.” PJ grabbed a full coffeepot and struck out across the diner, determined to end the conversation. After refilling several empty mugs and taking orders for breakfast, she returned to the counter and Cara Jo, a little more in control of her emotions and ready to launch her own attack. “Why didn’t you tell me about Chuck?”

Cara Jo’s brows rose innocently. “Chuck?”

“The handyman you hired for the resort?” PJ’s brows rose to match Cara Jo’s.

“Oh, yeah, him.” Cara Jo’s cheeks reddened. She rested a hand on PJ’s arm. “When Hank told me he’d hired a handyman, I didn’t know it was Chuck at first. Hank’s my new boss. I didn’t have a say. He hired him and told me he’d be starting today. It wasn’t until we were on the way to Fort Stockton that Hank let me know who he really was. I swear.” She held up her hand, her expression too solemn to be a hoax. Cara Jo had never lied to PJ. Why would she start now?

“Why didn’t you warn me then?”

“I was trying to find the words, but for some reason, I never could come up with the right ones.” She shrugged. “Are you mad at me?”

PJ sighed. “No. I can’t stay mad at you.” She set the coffeepot on the burner. “Do you have any say in who works as the handyman?”

“Not yet. I just accepted the position of resort manager. I haven’t even had a chance to move my stuff into the office.”

PJ sighed. Chuck would be around for a while. “I guess we won’t be seeing much of you around the diner once you get oriented with your new duties.”

“My first responsibility is to the diner. It’s my baby. I won’t desert you and the staff here.” Cara Jo hugged PJ. “And you’ll always be my friend, so don’t think you’re getting out of this relationship without an argument from me.”

Her heart warming at Cara Jo’s display of affection, PJ reminded herself how lucky she was to have Cara Jo in her life. When her adoptive mother had died of a heart attack, PJ had felt more alone than she had since she’d come to Wild Oak Canyon. If not for Cara Jo giving her a job and arranging with the resort for a place to live, she and Charlie would have been destitute. Then out of the blue, the scholarship had landed in her lap and PJ felt she was finally on her way to a new and better life for her and her daughter.

The bell over the diner door jingled and PJ glanced up, her heart flipping over.

Chuck entered, his gaze crossing the room to clash with PJ’s. Hank Derringer entered behind Chuck and then smiled and nodded toward Cara Jo and PJ. The two settled in the farthest corner in a booth.

“Want me to get them?” Cara Jo asked.

“No. I can do this.” PJ stiffened her spine.

“Does Chuck know about Charlie?” Cara Jo whispered.

PJ nodded, gathering two menus and two coffee mugs, her hands shaking. “He found out last night after he chased the attacker out of my apartment.”

Cara Jo whistled softly. “Wow, what a way to learn you have a baby daughter.”

A stab of guilt twisted in PJ’s gut. “Yeah. But what’s done is done. I have to live with the choice I made.”

“Any chance you two will get back together?” Cara Jo asked.

Her chest tightening so much she could barely breathe, PJ shrugged. She was afraid if she spoke, her voice would crack along with her composure.

“I get it. It’s too soon to talk about it.” Cara Jo gave her a pat on the back. “Go on. You’re tough—you can handle this.”

PJ wasn’t so sure, but she didn’t plan on hiding every time she ran into Chuck. Wild Oak Canyon was too small to think she could avoid him forever.

* * *

“ANY OTHER PROBLEMS after last night’s initial incident?” Hank asked.

Chuck dragged his gaze away from PJ as she strode across the black and white linoleum tiles of the diner toward them. He had a hard time focusing on Hank with PJ nearby. “What? Oh, no. I checked her balcony door locks and each of the windows and then bedded down in the hallway to make sure no one bothered her again.”

Hank sighed. “I figured something might happen, but I wasn’t sure what or when.”

PJ stopped at their table and set the menus and the empty coffee mugs in front of them. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Hank frowned. “Are you all right, my dear?”

PJ smiled down at the older man. “I’m fine, thanks to Chuck. I understand you hired him as the handyman for the resort.”

“I did. Thought we could use someone with carpentry skills who could also work with the horses since Juan is no longer with us.”

She nodded curtly. “I’ll be right back with the coffee.”

As soon as PJ was out of earshot, Hank leaned closer. “I don’t want anyone to know I hired you to protect PJ. The less connection she has to me, the less chance of her being hurt.”

“What’s going on? All you told me was that I needed to provide protection to an employee of the resort. What made you think PJ needed protecting?”

“I got a call from an adoption agency in Flagstaff, Arizona. They noted that their computer system had been hacked, and PJ’s files had been the target.”

“And why would they call you?”

Hank glanced around the diner, his blue eyes darkening. “I knew PJ’s birth mother, Alana Rodriguez. She made sure that if anything happened to PJ’s adoptive mother, all correspondence or concerns should be directed to me.”

“Why you?”

“I helped her escape her abusive fiancé twenty-six years ago in Cozumel, Mexico. It was easy for her to fit into a new life in the United States. She spoke fluent English and had sandy-blond hair and green eyes just like PJ. I suspect her coloring was a throwback from her European Spanish heritage.”

Chuck’s eyes narrowed. “Something tells me there’s more to this story.”

Hank sighed. “I told her if she ever needed me for anything to let me know.” He stared across the table at Chuck. “When she disappeared, her fiancé had the Mexican police arrest me, claiming I’d murdered Alana.”

“What happened to her?”

“I arranged for her to get to the States, gave her a new identity and she disappeared. I didn’t see her again.”

“How did you get the Mexican government to drop the charges?”

“With no body and no evidence of foul play, they couldn’t keep me. Although I barely got out of Mexico.”

“So why is this all surfacing again?”

“Her fiancé, Emilio Montalvo,” Hank slid a blurry picture of a Hispanic man in front of Hank, “had connections deep in the Mexican Mafia. He swore when he found Alana, he’d make us both pay. I stayed away from her, sure that any contact with her would put her at risk of him finding her. I didn’t know she’d had a child and the child was PJ until last year.”

“How did you find out?”

Hank’s gaze dropped to the empty coffee mug in his hand. “I found out when Terri Franks, a woman I barely knew who’d worked at the resort for the past eight years, died.”

“PJ’s adoptive mother.” Chuck’s gaze slipped from Hank to PJ, headed their way with a carafe of coffee.

Hank turned a smile toward PJ as she stopped to fill his cup.

“Ready to order?” PJ directed her question to Hank, refusing to lock gazes with Chuck.

They had a lot to discuss, but Chuck didn’t want to do it in public. It would wait until that evening when he could get her alone.

Hank and Chuck ordered breakfast, and PJ walked away.

“How did you find out PJ was Alana’s daughter, not Terri’s?”

“I received a package in the mail from Terri Franks’s attorney. In it was a letter from Alana, asking me to look out for her daughter should anything happen to Terri. In the letter Terri left with her lawyer, she explained how she’d been PJ’s nanny when they lived out in Arizona. Alana had arranged to have Terri adopt PJ if something should happen to her. I only wish I’d known then.”

“Why do you think the hacking into the adoption agency’s files points to you and PJ?”

“My corporate and personal computer systems were also maliciously hacked. All the data was downloaded to some site in Mexico.”

“Was your letter from Alana in those files?”

“No.”

“Then how would the hacker connect you to PJ?”

“PJ doesn’t know it, but the scholarship she’s going to school on comes from one of my corporations. The bank statements and money trail were part of the system hacked.”

“Any leads on who might be hacking into your system, or who might want to hurt PJ?”

“Anyone could be getting to me by targeting PJ.”

Chuck drummed his fingers on the table. “But hacking into the adoption files...that makes it a little more personal.”

Hank nodded. “Exactly.”

“You think Alana’s ex-fiancé might have traced PJ through the adoption agency?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“How long ago did you say it was when you helped this woman, Alana?”

Hank stared across the table at Chuck. “Twenty-six years ago.”

Chuck did the math in his head. PJ had turned twenty-five while he’d been in Afghanistan. His gut tightened. “The next question—and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it might be important—but just who is PJ’s father?”

The older man opened his mouth and then closed it and smiled, his head turning toward the woman in question.

“Your breakfast.” PJ set a steaming plate of eggs, sunny-side up, in front of Hank and one in front of Chuck, her arm brushing against his, sending sensual shock waves across his senses.

Chuck’s fingers tightened on the napkin in his lap to keep from reaching out and pulling PJ into his arms.

PJ jerked her arm back, her eyes flaring wide for a moment. Her chest rose and fell on a deep breath. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“No, thank you,” Hank answered for them both.

Chuck couldn’t speak, his throat tight around his vocal cords. He wanted to hold PJ so badly, he had to remain completely still or risk leaping from his seat and taking her into his arms.

When PJ turned and hurried away, Chuck let go of the breath he’d been holding and faced Hank. “Were you and Alana more than just acquaintances?”

Hank nodded.

“So PJ could be your and Alana’s daughter.”

The older man lifted his fork and put it down again. “I don’t know. Without informing PJ of our connection, I don’t know how to get a sample for DNA testing. If she’s my daughter, she runs the risk of kidnapping attempts.”

“Like your wife and son...” Chuck had heard about Hank’s family before he’d deployed. Everyone in Wild Oak Canyon knew they’d disappeared two years ago and Hank had been looking for them ever since.

Hank stared across the table at Chuck, his face haggard, older than his fifty-something years. “I couldn’t bear for her to be hurt because of me.”

“You need to tell her,” Chuck said.

“When I know for sure.”

“The only way you’ll know for sure is to do DNA testing. You’d have to tell her something to get the sample you need.”

Hank threw his napkin on the table, his brows furrowed. “I couldn’t bear it if someone targeted another person because of me.”

“She might not be yours at all. Alana could have had another relationship with someone else shortly after disappearing.”

Hank’s eyes narrowed. “Then why leave the letter for me?”

“She counted on you to help.” Chuck stared across the room at PJ, leaning close to an elderly woman, taking her order. “What if PJ is the ex-fiancé’s daughter?”

“Things might get even worse.” Hank’s lips tightened. “He’ll want what is his and will stop at nothing to take her and the child.”

Chapter Four

PJ felt as if she was walking on eggshells the entire time Chuck and Hank were eating their breakfast. Several times she fumbled coffee mugs, almost dropping them.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Cara Jo rested a hand on her arm. “The world will not come to an end because the old fiancé is back in town.”

“I know. But we haven’t had the talk yet. I don’t know what he’s going to want in the way of visitation with Charlie.” PJ wrung her hands, staring at Chuck’s back. “He might sue for custody, for all I know.”

Cara Jo clucked her tongue. “Don’t borrow trouble, sweetie. He doesn’t strike me as the vindictive type.”

“No, but he’s always wanted children. He’ll want to be a part of Charlie’s life.”

“And that’s a problem?” Cara Jo’s brows rose. “Honey, a girl needs a daddy in her life. Not that you wouldn’t do a good job of raising her. But having a good male role model sets her up for future relationships and expectations of the kind of men she should date.”

“Charlie’s only three months old, for God’s sake.” PJ flung her hands in the air. “I’m not ready for my baby to start dating.”

Cara Jo chuckled. “I know. But having a good role model early in her life gives her a firm foundation when it comes to the kind of guy she might one day marry.”

PJ pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache forming at the thought of Charlie as a teen. “I don’t want to think about Charlie dating or marrying until at least after the terrible twos.”

“Order up!” Mrs. Kinsley yelled through the window from the kitchen.

Cara Jo handed her two plates of biscuits and gravy. “Sadly, it’ll be here before you know it. Take these to table nine, while I see if I can help Mrs. Kinsley catch up.”

PJ threw herself into taking orders and delivering food, busing tables in between. The hectic pace kept her too busy for her eyes to stray to the corner where Chuck and Hank sat, taking their sweet time over coffee. Still, her gaze found its way there every time she turned around.

Chuck’s broad shoulders and the high-and-tight military haircut made butterflies swarm in her belly and stirred the longing she’d thought was buried with the letters from Chuck she’d kept in a box beneath her bed.

She hadn’t opened them for fear she’d lose her determination and conviction that she was doing the right thing by moving on. Yet she hadn’t returned them or thrown them away. At first, he’d sent a letter every other day after he’d deployed to Afghanistan. When she refused to respond, the letters slowed to a trickle until about a month before Charlie was born, when they’d stopped altogether.

In her eighth month of pregnancy, PJ had never felt more alone. Sure, Cara Jo had been beside her, had gone to prenatal classes with her and coached her through the actual delivery, but it wasn’t the same.

The guilt of not having told Chuck of the baby and her continued longing gnawed at her heart. She hadn’t wanted to give her heart to him, knowing he’d leave her and possibly never come back. With her luck, he’d die just like every other presumably permanent person in her life. Her mother, what little she remembered of her, and her adoptive mother. Hell, she had never known her father.

Now she had Charlie in her life, and every day she worried that something horrible would happen to her. And it almost had the night before.

On her break PJ retreated to the diner office to use the telephone and dialed the number for the day care.

“Heavenly Hope Day Care, this is Dana.”

“Oh, good,” PJ breathed. “Just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“PJ?”

“I know it’s overprotective of me, but I had to call and check on Charlie.”

“I’m holding her in my arms as we speak. She’s just fine.” Dana paused. “How about you? You sound a bit shaken.”

“I guess I am after last night’s attack.”

The phone clattered and Dana muttered an expletive before saying, “Sorry, dropped the phone. Now, what do you mean attack? You didn’t say anything about it when you dropped Charlie off. Did Chuck attack you?”

PJ shoved a hand through her hair and sighed. “Sorry, Dana. I must have forgotten, what with Chuck being there and all.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. Chuck came in and saved the day.” PJ glanced around the office. “I have to get back to work. I just wanted to know Charlie was okay.”

“I’ll keep an extra special eye on her and let you know of anything out of the ordinary. Sheesh. Attacked? You better fill me in on all the details this afternoon.”

“I will.”

“That’s something a girl doesn’t forget. I guess having Chuck around has you completely rattled.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” PJ said her goodbyes and hung up. When she returned to the dining room, her gaze went straight to the empty corner booth.

The tension eased from her shoulders, and she let go of the breath she’d been holding for what felt like the entire morning.

The sooner she got used to having Chuck around, the better. No doubt, knowing he had a child, the big cowboy wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

The rest of the morning passed quickly with customers straggling in for late breakfast and then into the lunch hours. PJ glanced toward the door every time the bell above it jingled, half expecting Chuck to stride through.

Her nerves were shot by the time the lunch crowd thinned and she hung up her apron. “If you don’t mind, I have to leave early to get some errands done and study before I pick up Charlie at the day care.”

Cara Jo smiled. “No problem. I can handle the cleanup. Go on. And PJ...”

PJ slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and faced Cara Jo.

“Things will turn out for the best. Just you wait and see.” Cara Jo hugged her.

PJ returned the hug, her vision blurred with ready tears. “I hope so.” She left the diner and climbed the back stairs to her apartment over the resort. The shadowy hallway made her hurry along, her key at the ready.

When she stepped into the apartment, her gaze darted all around the postage stamp-size living-room-and-kitchen combo. The normal scents of talcum powder and baby shampoo held a hint of aftershave.

PJ shivered and wondered when that smell would dissipate. She vowed to throw open the windows when she got home that evening to air it out.

As she grabbed her notebook and papers from her corner desk, she paused. The photo album she kept on the shelf above her ancient computer stuck out a little more than usual. It hadn’t been that way that morning when she’d straightened her desk before heading for work.

Her chest tightened as a chill slipped across the back of her neck, making the tiny hairs stand on end. How long would it take to erase the memory of a man breaking and entering her home? Not only had her apartment been breached, but her safe haven had also been compromised.

Every little thing that seemed out of place would get more scrutiny. PJ shoved aside her paranoia and left, carefully locking the door. As a second thought, she tore off a corner of one of her papers and slipped it between the door and jamb above the lock. If someone broke in, the paper would be displaced. Call her crazy, but she needed some measure of security, and though minuscule, the little trick left her feeling a little more in control.

Her apartment behind her, PJ climbed into her car and headed for the law offices of Hanes and Taylor. She had to know what her rights were and what she might face if Chuck decided he wanted custody of Charlie.

Even the slimmest chance of losing custody of her baby had PJ’s gut so knotted she could hardly breathe.

* * *

THROUGHOUT THE DAY, Chuck worked on projects ranging from replacing rotted eaves to mucking stalls. In between tasks, he made it a habit to swing by the diner’s wide windows to peek in at PJ.

So many times during his tour in Afghanistan he’d dreamed of seeing PJ again, of holding her in his arms. In his imagination, he could hear her voice telling him she’d been wrong, that she wanted him in her life no matter what profession he chose.

Those dreams had helped him hold it together during the dangerous missions. The thought of coming back to Wild Oak Canyon to salvage his relationship with the woman he loved ended in a hero’s welcome. Such were his dreams.

The reality was, PJ had lied to him by withholding information about Charlie. If Chuck hadn’t returned to Wild Oak Canyon, he’d never have known he had a daughter.

His chest swelled as he thought of the tiny baby, lying in her crib, her soft tuft of hair like silk against his fingers.

He’d smashed his fingers with a hammer more than once, losing his focus over little Charlie. And the more he saw PJ through the window, the more he alternated between wanting to hold her and wanting to shake her.

Around noon, he ducked into the resort office.

The young woman manning the counter, barely out of her teens, smiled. “May I help you?”

Chuck read the name tag. “Hi, Alicia. I’m Chuck, the new handyman.”

Alicia reached across the counter and shook Chuck’s hand. “Welcome to Wild Oak Canyon Resort.”

“Do you know of any repairs that need to be made in any of the rooms?”

The young woman behind the counter smiled and shrugged. “I only work part-time in the afternoons after my classes get out at the community college, so I don’t always get the 4-1-1. You’ll have to ask the new manager.”

“Ms. Smithson?” Chuck asked.

“Yes, sir. You can find her at the diner until about two. Then she’ll be back in her office at the resort.”

Chuck glanced at the old-fashioned guest register on the counter, committing the names on the list to memory. Perhaps one of the guests was PJ’s attacker. “Are there many guests this time of year?”

“It’s a slow season, from what they tell me. Only about twenty-five people are here for the week. Many are planning to attend the rodeo in the neighboring town. We get the overflow.”

Chuck made a note to work with Cara Jo to review the list of guests and to get Hank to run a background check on any who might be questionable. Since the attack had just happened only the night before, whoever did it could be new in town, thus needing a place to stay. One close enough where he could study PJ’s every move. Chuck’s fists tightened. The sooner he discovered the culprit and put him in jail—or out of his misery—the better. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Alicia.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Chuck went back to work in the stable. By early afternoon, he’d finished mucking stalls and was just emptying a wheelbarrow full of manure in the pile behind the stables when he saw PJ’s car pull out of the rear parking lot of the resort. Even if he hadn’t been tasked with protecting the confounded woman, curiosity got the better of him.

Chuck dusted off his jeans, climbed into his truck and followed. Wild Oak Canyon wasn’t a big enough town to boast a single stoplight. A couple of dozen streets crisscrossed in straight lines on the flat terrain.

PJ pulled into a building a few blocks from the diner.

Chuck waited at a stop sign until PJ went inside before he passed. His heart skipped several beats when he read the sign in front of the neat little house, converted into a business. Hanes and Taylor, Attorneys at Law.

Was that the way she’d play this? Anger spiked as he turned the corner and circled the block. Most likely she was getting legal advice about child custody.

As Chuck rounded the block and came back out on Main, PJ’s car was pulling away from the curb. She hadn’t had time to consult with anyone. She had probably only set up an appointment.

Chuck’s jaw tightened. Tonight, he and PJ would have a talk about Charlie’s future. A future that would include Chuck, by God.

Feeling a bit guilty over stalking PJ, Chuck left a big gap between his truck and her car.

PJ’s next stop was on the other side of town at a quaint little church with a fenced playground out back and a sign out front with the words painted in block letters, Heavenly Hope Day Care.

Chuck kept his distance, parking in an abandoned gas station until PJ came out.

Twenty minutes later, he’d about given up when PJ emerged carrying an infant car seat, Charlie’s little head barely visible over the sides. Her tiny hand waved at the sky, bringing a smile to Chuck’s face.

He wanted to hold his little girl, to get to know her and watch her grow.

Had PJ not shut him out of her life, Chuck would have moved heaven and earth to be there when Charlie came into the world. He sighed. Then again, the army didn’t always let soldiers out of their deployments for the births of their children. Even had PJ told him he was going to be a father, he probably wouldn’t have gotten a furlough to return home for the event.

He could understand some of the reasoning behind PJ keeping the birth of his child from him. But Charlie was three months old. Chuck had been back in the States for a month of that, in the hospital for rehab and then processing out of the military.

After almost a year’s separation, he’d thought he’d be over PJ, but that was as far from the truth as he could get.

The woman had never been far from his mind, and his job of protecting her would only put them closer still.

Chuck considered asking Hank to pull him from this case. But who did he know he could trust to guarantee PJ’s safety? And who had as much at stake when it came to Charlie?

If the Mexican Mafia was after PJ and Charlie, he’d need a friggin’ army to surround her, especially in this part of south Texas where drugs traveled across the border seemingly unconstrained. There were enough Mafia members on both sides of the border that if they wanted PJ and Charlie, one cowboy wasn’t going to stop them. Chuck wondered if the four cowboys Hank had hired made up the entirety of Covert Cowboys, Inc., or if Hank had additional help he hadn’t met yet.

Chuck stayed behind PJ as she drove back to her apartment. He gave her five minutes to unload and get into her room before he parked and climbed out.

The more he thought about PJ and Charlie being at risk with the Mexican Mafia, the more he needed to know about those he might be up against. A visit with Hank’s computer guru who had access to just about anything that had a computer footprint was in order. But first, he had to make sure PJ and Charlie would be okay.

Chuck scanned the parking lot, noting all the shadowy areas a person could hide to ambush an unsuspecting mother. He made notes to himself to trim back bushes and install motion-sensor lighting to ward off surprise attacks. Since he, PJ and Cara Jo were the only people who should be parking behind the buildings, safety in numbers wasn’t really an option.

At the top of the staircase leading to the pair of apartments he and PJ occupied, Chuck paused and surveyed the hallway. The light overhead gave a dingy glow. He’d clean the globe and change the bulbs.

He paused with his fist hovering over PJ’s door and got a good whiff of his own stench. After mucking horse manure for part of the day, he probably smelled like the stuff.

Chuck turned back toward his apartment when PJ’s door jerked open.

“I knew it.”

Chuck spun to face her.

She had Charlie in her arms and a scowl on her face. “You were following me, weren’t you?”

Chuck couldn’t lie to her. “Yes.”

“I don’t need a keeper, so back off.”

“Are you mad because I followed you or because I saw that you stopped at an attorney’s office?” he threw back at her.

Charlie batted at her mother’s face, blowing bubbles with her spit.

Chuck had a hard time staying mad when the baby drew his attention out of the fight.

“I only made an appointment. I figured we’d have to have some kind of agreement written up over visitation with Charlie.”

“We still need to have that talk.”

PJ sighed. “I know.”

“But let me get a shower first. I smell like hell.”

PJ’s nose twitched, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “You really do.”

Chuck’s heart flipped. He’d missed her smile. “Five minutes.”

“Just knock.”

Chuck hurriedly collected his toiletries and ducked beneath the hot spray, scrubbing away a day of hard work. It had been a long time since he’d worked with horses and barnyards. His muscles were stiff from shoveling. Other than digging foxholes, he hadn’t had to shovel much in the army, and he could tell the muscles had been neglected. And his bum leg ached like hell.

He let the warm water pepper his muscles as he collected his thoughts for the coming confrontation with PJ.

Showered and dressed in clean clothes, he knocked on PJ’s door.

“Just a minute,” she called out.

A moment later, she opened the door, again holding Charlie. “Sorry. We were in the middle of Charlie’s supper.” PJ tugged her T-shirt down over her hip.

It took a moment for Chuck to digest her meaning. When it hit him that she had been breastfeeding Charlie, his face heated.

PJ folded a cloth over his shoulder and held Charlie out. “Here, you can burp her while I fix something to eat.” Once he’d taken the baby, she performed an about-face and hurried toward the kitchenette in the corner. “I hope you like spaghetti. It’s cheap and easy to fix.”

“I didn’t expect you to cook for me.”

She shrugged. “It’s just as easy to cook spaghetti for two as for one person.”

Chuck still held Charlie out at arm’s length. “How do I burp her?”

PJ chuckled. “Lay her over your shoulder and pat her back. She’ll do the rest.”

No sooner had Chuck laid her over his shoulder than Charlie burped.

“See?” PJ turned with a wooden spoon in her hand. “Easy.”

“All I did was put her on my shoulder.”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes.” She waved the spoon. “Pat her back anyway. She probably has another one in there.”

In awe and a little afraid of the tiny bundle of baby, Chuck patted her back gently, afraid he’d break her little body with his big hand.

“Oh, come on, she won’t break. Give her a firm pat.”

Chuck patted her back again, this time a little harder. Nothing happened.

“Don’t stop. She likes it.”

As he patted her back, Chuck paced across the small room and back, sure he was doing it wrong. Finally Charlie burped again and cooed.

The sound made Chuck’s heart skip several beats. “Is that normal?”

“That’s her way of saying thank you. I told you, she likes it.”

Chuck glanced at PJ standing with her back to him. She seemed to be thinner than he remembered. “How was it?”

“What?”

“Your pregnancy, the delivery? I want to know.”

“I did fine. I guess my body is built for bearing children. No health issues and a natural delivery.”

He wanted to know more, but he clamped down on his tongue to keep from asking too many personal questions. “I would have been there...”

“I know you would have. If you could have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He tipped Charlie into the crook of his arm and stared down into her little face.

“You weren’t here. You wouldn’t have been here even had you known.” Her hand stopped stirring the sauce, and she stood for a long moment, unmoving. “Your focus needed to be on staying alive. What was the point in telling you?”

His anger stirred again. “The point is, I’m Charlie’s father.”

“And if there had been complications, what could you have done from Afghanistan?”

Chuck sighed. “Nothing.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“I won’t try to keep you from seeing Charlie,” PJ said.

Chuck stared up at PJ. She’d lied by omission about Charlie. Would she lie about trying to keep him from seeing his daughter? What about the visit to the attorney? Was she only trying to set an agreement in place, or was she preparing to cut him out of Charlie’s life?

At this point, Hank didn’t want her to know Chuck had been hired as her bodyguard, not as a handyman as he’d told PJ.

PJ glanced at him and sighed. Then she held her hand up, spoon and all. “I swear on my mothers’ graves I won’t keep you from Charlie. There. Are you satisfied?”

Chuck nodded. He liked the strong, determined woman she’d grown into in the year he’d been away, and found himself even more attracted to her than before. “Okay. I trust you.” He might trust her about visitation with Charlie, but he wasn’t as sure about where they stood, or if he trusted her with his heart. Was attraction enough?

“Trust or not, it’s the truth.” She turned back to the stove. “You about ready for dinner?”

Chuck gazed down at the baby sleeping in his arms. He didn’t want to let go of her even to eat supper. “I guess.”

PJ chuckled. “Does my cooking reputation precede me? I’m not Cara Jo, but I can—”

Footsteps pounded on the staircase and then in the hallway outside PJ’s apartment door.

PJ turned to Chuck. “Give me Charlie.” She held out her hands for the baby.

Chuck handed her over and motioned for her to get behind him. “Go into the bedroom and close the door.”

PJ did as she was told, her eyes wide, her face pale. As she closed the bedroom door, someone pounded on the door to the apartment.

“Help! Please, help!” a female voice called out, followed by loud sobs.

Chuck peered through the peephole and then yanked the door open.

The young woman from the resort front desk fell against his chest, her face streaked with tears. “Please help him.”

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