“Come to my bed tonight.”

Oh, mercy. She was in trouble here.

Her body was tingling just thinking about it. All that precision. All that superhero strength. All those muscles. She wasn’t a shallow woman, but the thought of getting her hands on his body made her mouth water, literally.

Bailey really wanted to go to his bed tonight.

But then something in the backyard caught her eye. Some kind of movement. Maybe. Bailey tried to pick through the unfamiliar surroundings and sounds. Bailey saw it then. It wasn’t an animal. Nor a shadow.

It was a man….

GI Cowboy
Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Max. This one is for you.

Special thanks and acknowledgment to Delores Fossen for her contribution to the Daddy Corps series.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Parker McKenna —Former army captain who joins the Daddy Corps as a bodyguard for the governor’s daughter, Bailey Lockhart. Parker closed down after his wife’s death five years ago, but protecting Bailey makes him see that he still has a lot to lose—and win—if he can only trust his heart again.

Bailey Lockhart —The governor’s headstrong daughter and owner of Cradles and Crayons Daycare and Preschool. Even though she’s in danger, she’s reluctant to rely on Parker, the hot GI, but Bailey soon realizes that Parker is her best chance at staying alive.

Zach McKenna —Parker’s thirteen-year-old son. He lives with his father, but they haven’t really communicated in years.

Bart Bellows —The eccentric Texas billionaire and head of Corps Security and Investigation who would do anything for his old friend, the governor. But all Bart’s money and influence might not be enough to save the Lockharts.

Lila Lockhart —The governor of Texas who’s considering a run for the White House…but first she has to deal with the threats against her daughter, Bailey.

Timothy Penske —Lila’s personal bodyguard. Bailey rejected his advances, but does he still have feelings for her, and are those feelings a part of what’s happening to her now?

Sidney Burrell —The handyman at Cradles and Crayons. He’s kept a secret about his past. Just how far will he go to make sure no one finds out what he really is?

Chester Herman —The mystery man who shows up in town at the same time the threats on Bailey begin. He could be Bailey’s stalker…or maybe someone wants it to look that way.

Contents

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Prologue

Parker McKenna stopped cold. The dinner invitation sure hadn’t said anything about sharing a fancy meal with an assassin, but he was pretty sure the guy in the far right corner fit that particular bill.

“Takes one to know one,” Parker mumbled to himself.

Except Parker had killed only when there’d been no other option, when it had been necessary to protect someone in the line of duty. He wasn’t sure this guy could say the same.

Parker eased out of the doorway and stood next to the wall so he could take in the rest of the private dining room in the posh Dallas hotel. The Wainwright wasn’t exactly his kind of place. Too rich for his middle-class army blood with its glossy marble floors and crystal chandeliers shimmering overhead.

Normally, Parker wouldn’t have come within a mile of a place like this, but the invitation had, well, made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. His host, Bart Bellows, had sent the handwritten dinner request along with round-trip plane tickets.

This is your chance to be part of a brotherhood again. A chance to make a difference. A chance for freedom.

Freedom.

Now, that was a complex word and not usually associated with a dinner invitation, but Parker had to admit that without that word, he might not be here. He’d probably still be in Mankato, Minnesota, supervising an apartment construction site. He hadn’t felt anything close to freedom in the past five years, not since his wife’s death, and until he saw that oddly worded invitation, he hadn’t realized just how hungry he was for it.

Freedom from the guilt. The bad memories. From all the things he’d screwed up.

“Parker McKenna,” he heard someone say. It wasn’t exactly a question, and the man who approached him seemed to know exactly who Parker was.

Parker couldn’t say the same. The man had black hair, a neatly trimmed beard and wore dark pants and a casual shirt. Parker was six-three, and this guy was at least four inches shorter, but there was something in his demeanor that let Parker know this man knew how to take care of himself.

He extended his hand to Parker. “I’m Wade Coltrane.”

“You a cop?” Parker asked, shaking hands.

“No.” The corner of Wade’s mouth lifted, but the smile didn’t make it to his intense black eyes. Oh, yeah. Here was a man in search of freedom as well and probably something even more. “I’m former army special ops.”

So was Parker, though he was sure Wade already knew that. “Who’s the guy in the corner, the one who looks ready to kill us all?”

Wade didn’t even glance in that direction. He kept his attention on the center of the room where a team of tux-wearing waiters was setting up the table for seven. “That’s Harlan McClain. He used to play minor-league baseball, but he was special ops, too. The non-PC term for his job title was assassin.”

So, Parker had been right. “You did background checks on all the guests?”

Wade nodded, sipped his champagne. “Old habits.”

Parker snagged a glass of champagne from a waiter who was passing by. His throat was suddenly bone dry, and he was wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. “I would have done the same if I’d known the guest list,” Parker mumbled.

“It took some doing to get it. From what I could find out, our host invited five of us, all former military. Each of us has specific areas of expertise.”

Interesting, since there were seven places being set with expensive china and real silver. Not just one fork, but four.

What the heck was he supposed to do with the other three?

And Parker obviously wasn’t the only one who felt that way. The assassin guy was eyeing them as if he might use them as weapons.

“The invitation should have said this was black tie,” Parker added. He was way underdressed in his khakis and dark blue shirt, but then the note as the bottom of the invitation had said Come as you are.

Right.

Bart Bellows was lucky that Parker hadn’t taken that to heart and shown up in Wranglers and mud-caked cowboy boots.

The other guests obviously hadn’t gotten the word about the hotel’s dress code either because like Parker, they all wore casual clothes and they all stuck out like sore thumbs.

“I know what you mean about the black tie,” Wade agreed. “I didn’t expect this.” The man made a sweeping glance around the lavish room.

Neither had Parker, though he had done a thorough background check on their host, Bart Bellows. However, in this case, background details didn’t tell the whole story. Parker was sure of that.

Wade tipped his head to the wiry dark-haired man across the room who was studying them as discreetly as Parker was studying him. “That’s Matteo Soarez from L.A. He worked in army covert ops. He specialized in infiltrating the enemy.”

Wade slid a glance at Parker. “I think you’re the only one here who actually got to protect people when you were in uniform.”

Well, Parker had been a bodyguard, of sorts. A combat rescue officer. The army sent him into situations where a captive needed to be extracted or when a VIP or team leader required extra protection.

Protection.

Now, that was also another complex word. He had three scars from bullet wounds that he’d gotten in the name of protecting others. The reminder had a bitter taste to it because Parker hadn’t been there to protect the one person who’d counted most.

His pregnant wife.

And because of it, he was now on some rat-wheel guilt trip ride that he wasn’t sure he could ever escape.

“The fifth guy is Nick Cavanaugh,” Wade continued. He angled his gaze toward the front of the room where the blond-haired man was doing exactly what they were doing—drinking champagne and trying to figure out what was going on here. “Army reconnaissance.”

Parker was betting like Wade that this Nick had gotten his hands on the guest list, as well. “So, what does a billionaire like Bart Bellows want with the likes of us?” Parker asked Wade.

“I’m not sure, but I think we’re about to find out.”

All the guests, including Parker, practically came to attention when the man in the motorized wheelchair rolled into the room from a side door.

Bart Bellows.

Thinning gray hair. Gray beard, too. Eyes so blue and intense that they seemed to pierce right through you.

Parker recognized the man from the numerous photos he’d found on the internet. There was no shortage of images and stories about the eccentric billionaire who was a Vietnam vet and former CIA agent.

However, most of the articles hadn’t had anything to do with Bart Bellows’s careers but rather his high-risk lifestyle. The man been a first-class adrenaline junkie—he’d done a stint as a race car driver for the NASCAR team he owned; he’d bungee jumped in the Grand Canyon: he’d parasailed over shark-infested waters in Australia.

In Parker’s mind, Bart lived like a man looking to die.

Well, Bart had, before that wheelchair and age had sidelined him and before his son had been killed in the Middle East by an IED. But Parker didn’t think it was his imagination that the old guy was still willing to take some ultimate risks.

Bart wasn’t alone. There was another man who followed along behind the wheelchair. Tall, imposing. Parker figured he was another military vet or maybe ex-CIA.

“Welcome,” Bart called out to them. He urged them closer with his motioning hand.

All of them, including Parker, began to stroll toward the fancy-set table. When he got closer, he saw there wasn’t just silverware and china, but at each place there was a PDA.

“Take a seat,” Bart invited. There was something surprising about his voice. It didn’t quite go with the weathered face and his wheelchair-bound body. There was strength in that voice. Strength too in the look he gave each of them.

It was almost…fatherly.

“In case you don’t know, I’m Bart Bellows, and this is Nolan Law, my right-hand man.” He hitched his thumb in the direction of the person who’d come in with him.

“Take a seat,” Bart repeated, and he wheeled himself to the head of the table.

Parker located his name tag. It was next to Wade’s. The others did the same, and one by one they all sat down. Parker didn’t know which was more intimidating—those four forks or the way they were eyeing each other. What he needed was more knives to cut the sudden tension in the room.

But Bart’s laughter did that.

“Gentlemen, this isn’t a funeral, so there’s no need to act like it’s one.” Bart turned that friendly gaze on Parker. “How’s your son, Captain McKenna?”

It took Parker a moment to answer. It’d been five years since anyone had addressed him by his army rank. And as for his son, Zach, it surprised him that this billionaire would even know his son’s name, much less bother to ask about the thirteen-year-old. Of course, Bart was probably aware of every last detail of Parker’s life.

Bart no doubt knew about Amy, her death and the unborn daughter who’d been buried with her.

Parker pushed those memories aside, or rather tried. Five years of practice hadn’t helped much with that. “My son’s doing good,” he lied.

Bart nodded and seemed a little disappointed that Parker hadn’t attempted the truth.

“We’ll talk more about that later,” Bart said practically in a whisper. “Maybe a change of scenery will make things better for both of you.” With that cryptic remark dangling in the air, Bart looked back at the others. “First though, I should probably tell you why I invited you here. Plain and simple, I need your help.”

“Help?” That came from Harlan, the assassin, and he practically growled it.

“Help,” Bart cheerfully clarified. “Actually, this is a job offer. I want all of you to work for me at Corps Security and Investigations. I’ll double whatever salary you’re getting now and will pay for all relocation costs for you and your families.”

No one said a word, but Parker could almost hear the mental mumbles. If it sounded too good to be true, it usually was.

“Yes, I did say double the pay,” Bart continued. “But it’s my guess that money isn’t what brought you here. And it’s not what will make you accept my offer. This is a chance to be part of a brotherhood again. A fresh start. An opportunity to help others and yourself.”

“Freedom,” Parker mumbled a little louder than he’d intended.

“That, too,” Bart assured him. He made eye contact not just with Parker but with every man at the table. “Each of you has a particular set of skills that will come in handy in your first assignment.”

“The assignment information is on your PDA,” the right-hand man, Nolan, provided.

Parker hesitated but finally picked up the device, turned it on and saw a picture of the Texas governor, Lila Lockhart.

“Lila’s an old friend,” Bart continued. He grinned, and even though the gesture bunched up his wrinkles, his face also lit up. “And with her second term in office winding down, she’s mulling over whether or not she’ll make a run for the White House. Imagine that, gentleman. You could be looking at the next president of the United States.”

“What does she have to do with us?” Wade asked.

“Everything,” Bart answered. What was left of his smile faded. “Governor Lockhart and her family have been receiving threats. Nothing violent. Not yet anyway. But there has been some escalation. She’s getting several letters a week with the same handwriting. Same tone. The person isn’t happy with her current policies. Lila wasn’t too concerned until recently, when someone slashed the tires on her daughter’s car.”

“Go to the next picture,” Nolan instructed.

Parker did and saw the photo of the attractive blonde. The governor’s daughter, no doubt. She had her mother’s blue eyes.

“The governor’s security couldn’t stop the tire slashing?” Parker wanted to know.

Bart shook his head. “Her daughter, Bailey, doesn’t live in Austin at the governor’s mansion. She lives in a small town up in the Texas Panhandle where the Lockharts have a family ranch. Bailey owns a day care there.” He paused, gathered his breath. “Lila is concerned for her children, for her hometown and for anyone who might be in the path of those who wish her harm. She asked me to provide security and lots of it.”

“That’s the job?” Nick challenged. “To protect an entire town and a possible presidential candidate?”

“It is. This won’t be a short and sweet assignment. All of you are looking at a long-term commitment that won’t end until the threats end. The job will also require all of you to relocate to Freedom, Texas.”

Parker was sure he blinked.

“Yes, Freedom,” Bart verified though Parker didn’t say a word. “Interesting name for a town, huh?”

Parker made a sound that could have meant anything, or nothing. But yes, it was interesting and so was that face in the picture. Bailey Lockhart. She looked wholesome. Beautiful.

Vulnerable.

“Mull it over,” Bart insisted. And he repeated that to the others: Matteo Soarez, Wade Coltrane, Harlan McClain and Nick Cavanaugh. “If you want the job, be in Freedom in two days to start work. Until then, enjoy the hotel’s amenities on the house. Since I own the place, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Bart chuckled, snapped his fingers and the waiters began to pour into the room. There were at least a dozen, and all were carrying silver trays or pushing serving carts.

Parker couldn’t take his attention off the picture on the PDA screen. “She’s in danger?” Parker asked Bart.

Bart nodded. “Very likely.” He didn’t say anything else for several seconds. “I failed at protecting my own family, so Lila and her kids are like my family now. I can’t fail again. Do you understand that, Captain McKenna?”

Hell. He more than understood. He was living with that kind of failure and knew how it cut right to the bone.

Parker glanced around the table and wondered if every single one of them knew that kind of pain.

Was that why they had been brought here?

Parker didn’t know the answer to that, but he did know one thing. He already had enough blood on his hands. He was moving his son and himself to Freedom.

And this time, Parker hoped like hell he could stop another woman from dying.

Chapter One

Someone was following her.

Bailey Lockhart was sure of it.

She glanced around the parking lot of Cradles to Crayons Day Care and Preschool. No other vehicles were there yet, but that would soon change. In the next forty-five minutes, her staff and teachers would arrive. The kids, too. And the quiet parking lot would no longer be so quiet.

But for now, it was just her.

And her stalker, of course.

Bailey huffed. She was so tired of this nonsense. The hang-up calls. Her slashed tires. The worry all of this was causing her mother, a woman with enough on her mind since she was governor and had a state to run.

Bailey just wanted all the fuss to end. Heck, the culprit was probably just some teenager out of school for the summer and with way too much time on his or her hands. It wouldn’t be a first. Her mother, Lila, had been a politician since Bailey was a kid, so Bailey had gotten used to taunts and behind-the-back gossip.

The slashed tires, however, were a first.

She took a deep breath, retrieved her purse and got out of her silver BMW, complete with four new tires. She’d outright rejected her mother’s suggestion that she carry a gun. Yes, this was Texas, and the stereotype was that all Texans were armed, but Bailey didn’t want a weapon in Cradles to Crayons. The children came first.

But she did grab her umbrella from the backseat. Not because it looked like rain. No. Only because she felt safer with something in her hand.

That didn’t make her feel better though.

Bailey forced herself to act as she normally would. She didn’t hurry toward the back entrance, her usual path to the red two-story building that was just as much home as her house was. She loved everything about the place even though she’d put it through major renovations when six years ago she’d converted it from the 1920s schoolhouse to the bright welcoming building it was now.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she opened the white picket gate that led to the playground, and it made a creaking noise. It was a sound right out of a horror movie.

“I’m not scared of you!” she snarled, but she immediately hated the outburst as much as the stupid purple umbrella she’d brought as a pseudo weapon. This person was no doubt laughing about how uneasy she was.

Cursing her Chicken Little reaction, she rounded the corner and smacked right into someone.

A man.

He was as hard as the wall, and the impact knocked both her purse and umbrella to the ground. Her face literally landed against the man’s neck, and she was suddenly tangled up in his beefy arms.

A scream bubbled in her throat, but before Bailey could even make a sound, he shoved his hand over her mouth.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said.

Bailey didn’t believe him. She turned, rammed her elbow into his stomach and started to run. She made it exactly one step before he latched onto her again.

“I said I won’t hurt you!” he repeated.

Maybe. Maybe not. She tried to elbow him again, but he only tightened his grip and whirled her around to face him.

“Hell, no one said you’d be violent,” he grumbled.

“Me, violent? I’m not the one doing the assaulting here!” But she rethought that. He wasn’t making any attempt to hit her. She cursed that creaking gate and her heightened anxiety. “Sorry, violence isn’t usually my first response.”

“I would have never guessed that.” The snarkiness in his voice made her look at his face.

She had to look up to see his face. Since she was five-nine, she didn’t have to do that very often, but this guy was at least a half a foot taller than she was, and he was built like a Dallas Cowboys linebacker.

Black hair, cut short and efficient. Blue-gray eyes that were narrowed, intense. Dangerous, too, especially since he was wincing in pain—probably from her elbow jab.

Bailey suddenly wished she’d taken her mother’s advice about that gun.

“Who are you?” she demanded. Too bad her voice cracked a little when she wanted nothing more than to sound like a woman who could take care of herself.

Since they were chest-to-chest, she wiggled out of his grip to put some much needed space between them, and she repeated her question. “I asked who are you?”

“Parker McKenna.” And he said it as if that might mean something to her.

Actually, it did. She’d heard people mention the new guy who’d recently moved to town. This was the first she’d actually seen of him, though.

Bailey combed her gaze over him. Jeans, black T-shirt and cowboy boots. Not exactly unusual attire for Freedom, but he was somehow memorable in those unmemorable clothes. No. If she’d seen him before, she would have remembered.

She wiggled some more, creating some very uncomfortable body contact between them, but he finally let go of her. Well, sort of. When she started to bolt, he put her back against the wall and got right in her face.

“You need to listen,” he insisted.

They stood there, glaring at each other. Him, still wincing a bit. Her, with her breath and heartbeat going like crazy.

Because she was so close, actually touching him, Bailey saw the moment that it registered in his eyes. She was a woman. And he became aware that her breasts were squished against his rock-hard chest.

And other things were touching, too.

He stepped way back.

“I am listening,” she assured him, and she used some snark, too. “And what I want to hear are some answers. What are you doing here?”

“Watching you,” he readily admitted.

Bailey was certain her mouth dropped open. “You’re my stalker?”

That earned her a huff and eye roll. “Not even close. I work for Corps Security and Investigations.”

She shook her head, wondering what that explanation had to do with her, but then everything inside her went still. “Bart Bellows owns Corps Security,” Bailey mumbled. A billionaire businessman who also happened to be her mother’s old friend.

Oh, no.

This better not be happening.

“What are you doing here?” Bailey repeated.

“Guarding you,” he said in an isn’t-it-obvious tone.

Sheesh.

Yes, it was happening.

It took Bailey a moment to get control of her temper. “My mother hired you.”

“Technically, she asked Bart to hire someone, and he hired me. I was in the army for over a decade, and I have a lot of experience protecting people.”

She didn’t doubt that for a moment. Parker McKenna was big, strong and could probably beat anyone in a hand-to-hand combat situation.

Or chest-to-chest.

He was also drop-dead hot, but Bailey cursed herself for noticing that. He might be attractive—sizzling, even—but it was a waste of time for him to be here.

“I don’t need or want a bodyguard,” she stated as clearly as she could.

“Excuse me?”

How could those two little words make her sound like a fool?

“Someone slashed your tires.”

“Yes. Probably a bored kid who needs parental supervision or a more appropriate hobby.”

Those blue-gray eyes turned dark. “What about the hang-up calls you’ve been getting? A bored kid made those too from an untraceable prepaid cell phone?”

“So, he’s a smart bored kid who doesn’t want to get caught,” Bailey amended. “Maybe his parents gave him the prepaid cell because that fit their budget. Lots of people use them.”

At his incredulous looks, she took a deep breath and then continued. “Look, I’m thirty-one years old and run a thriving business, and I don’t need my mother or her friend to make decisions about my personal security. If I feel I need a bodyguard, then I’ll hire one. But right now, I just don’t see the need.”

She snatched up her purse from the ground, but Parker got to the umbrella first. He glanced up at the clear blue sky, gave her a flat look and slapped the umbrella into her open, waiting hand.

Bailey didn’t even attempt an umbrella explanation.

She marched toward the side door. Bailey jammed the key into the lock, threw open the door and started slapping on lights. She also deposited the umbrella into the basket near the coatrack. Since she was sweating from her heated encounter with Parker, she adjusted the thermostat for the air-conditioning.

Unfortunately, she didn’t think she could get the room cold enough to neutralize the effect this man had had on her.

“There’s a need for a bodyguard all right.” Parker McKenna was right on her heels, and he followed her inside, those cowboy boots thudding on the hardwood floors. “The black car proves that.”

Bailey had already started across the reception area toward the stairs and her office, but that stopped her. She eased back around to face Parker. “What black car?”

He took a deep breath, as if this might be a long explanation, and he planted his hands on his hips. The exterior door behind him was still open, and the hot sticky breeze rushed through the room, bringing his scent right toward her.

Not sweat.

Not even the leather of his boots.

A scent that went right through her in a lust-provoking kind of way.

She cleared her throat and motioned for him to get on with whatever he had to say. For reasons she didn’t want to explore, it was best to get Parker McKenna out of her life ASAP.

“The bank on the street near your house has a security camera,” he finally said, “and the angle is such that it recorded the cars entering and exiting your street. I’ve spent hours sifting through the footage, and thanks to the Department of Motor Vehicles’ database, I was able to rule out all vehicles. Except one.”

“What do you mean?” Judging from his tone, this was bad news.

“Nearly all the vehicles belong to people who should be on that street. The woman in the truck who delivers your morning newspaper. Your neighbors. Your lawn guy. But there’s this one car that doesn’t belong to anyone here in Freedom. In fact, the plates are bogus.”

He extracted something from his front jeans pocket and walked closer. When he handed it to her, she saw it was a photo of a black car.

“Recognize it?” he asked.

Bailey studied it a moment but had to shake her head. “Maybe it’s a would-be burglar casing the neighborhood.” Strange, she hadn’t thought that would ever be a good thing, but that explanation was better than the alternative.

He lifted his shoulder, dismissing that. “The car was in your neighborhood the night someone slashed your tires.”

Oh, God. She doubted a teen playing pranks would go so far as bogus plates to conceal his identity. “Do you know the identity of the driver?”

“Can’t tell from the tapes. He appears to be a white male, but he wears a baseball cap that he keeps low on his head so that it partially covers his face.”

That required a deep breath. Because she had to do something, anything, Bailey straightened some wooden puzzles that were already neatly stacked on storage shelves next to the stairs.

“Ms. Lockhart, I believe you’re in danger,” she heard Parker say.

Maybe. But Bailey wasn’t ready to accept that just yet. “Someone driving through my neighborhood doesn’t constitute a danger. And the tires? It really could have been a teenager. The bottom line is I don’t want a bodyguard, and that means you can leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I moved my son here, and he’s just starting to get settled.”

“You have a son?” she blurted out, wishing that she hadn’t. It really wasn’t any of her business.

“Zach. He’s thirteen.” He paused and watched her fix the next row of puzzles. “His mom died five years ago, and since then I’ve moved him seven times. I’m looking for something more permanent for him here in Freedom.”

So, the hot cowboy/bodyguard was a widower and a dad with a desire to put down roots in her hometown. Bailey hadn’t pegged him for fatherhood or even marriage. Probably because he looked more fantasy material than anything else.

Forbidden fantasy, that is.

“Well, I hope Bart Bellows has another assignment for you,” she told Parker. “One that can keep you here for your son’s sake. Maybe in Amarillo, that’s not too far away. But that assignment won’t be me. Repeating myself here, but I don’t think I’m in danger.”

Bailey stopped fidgeting with the puzzles and headed up the stairs. She had a busy day ahead of her and didn’t have time for this.

“You are in danger,” he reiterated again. He followed her up the stairs. “Last year the sheriff installed a camera on the traffic light on Main Street. I went through that footage as well, and in the past week the same black car has driven in this direction nearly a half dozen times.”

Bailey forced herself to keep walking. “Did anyone see the driver get out and do anything criminal?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“If they had, it would have been reported to the sheriff, and he in turn would have told you. But that doesn’t mean this guy doesn’t have criminal intentions.”

When she made it to her office door, Bailey turned back around. She just needed to make this simple and clear. “I was sixteen when my mother first got into politics, and that means for fifteen years I’ve been subjected to people who don’t agree with her. Sometimes those people do stupid things, and that’s all there is to this. Now, please leave before the children and my staff arrive.”

Figuring that was pretty good exit line that would get Parker moving, Bailey threw open her office door.

And her heart dropped to her knees.

“Oh, God,” she heard herself say, though she had no idea how she managed to speak.

Parker caught her arm and shoved her away from the doorway. In the same motion, he reached down, to the holster strapped to his right boot.

And he drew his gun.

Chapter Two

With his gun aimed and ready, Parker inched inside Bailey’s office. His gaze whipped to all the corners. Then to her desk that had been tipped onto its side. Papers and her laptop were now in a heap on the floor.

Two chairs had also been overturned, and the room had generally been trashed. But what was missing was the person who’d done all of this.

Parker walked farther into the room toward a storage closet.

Also vandalized.

The small adjoining bathroom hadn’t escaped, either. Someone had poured out the liquid soap. And then he spotted the open window on the far wall. When he got closer, he saw the ladder propped up against the side of the building. Probably the point of entry and escape.

He glanced back at Bailey to let her know the place was clear, that her stalker was likely long gone, but the look on her face had Parker walking toward her. There was no color left in her cheeks, and her blue eyes were wide with shock. She was breathing way too hard and fast, and he didn’t want to risk her hyperventilating.

Parker caught onto her and pulled her back into the hall. But she maneuvered herself out of his grip and returned to her office. She was still visibly upset, but he could see the initial shock had worn off.

Bailey stood there, her back to him, her upper body moving with her still heavy breath. She was literally the only spot of order in the room. If it hadn’t been for the mess around her, she would have looked ready for a staff meeting in her perfectly fitted turquoise top and gray pants. There wasn’t a strand of her dark blond shoulder-length hair out of place.

“You still think you don’t need a bodyguard?” Parker asked.

Yeah, it wasn’t a nice question, but he couldn’t play nice here with Bailey and her safety. He needed her to understand how the slashed tires and hang-up calls could escalate.

And now she was looking at proof of that escalation.

She didn’t acknowledge his question. Instead, she stooped down and reached for a framed photo.

“Don’t touch anything,” Parker warned. “The sheriff will probably want to process the scene for prints or other evidence.”

Her hand froze, and Parker saw then that it was a picture of Bailey, her mother and her two siblings. The glass and frame had both been shattered.

Parker kept an eye on her and called Sheriff Bernard Hale. Freedom’s police department wasn’t exactly large or cutting edge, but he’d already had several discussions with Sheriff Hale and knew the man would do his best to find something, anything, that would help identify the person who was trying to make Bailey’s life a living hell.

“The sheriff’s coming out now,” Parker informed her after he made the call. He slipped his phone back in his pocket, caught her arm again and took her out of the room. “Is there a way for you to get in touch with your staff and students so you can tell them not to come in today?”

Well, that put the color back in her cheeks. “That won’t be necessary. It’s obvious the stalker’s not here. It’s also obvious that his venom is aimed only at me.”

“For now,” Parker mumbled. “But it could get worse.”

“I don’t want to close Cradles to Crayons,” she snapped. “I’ll add security. There’s a system already wired in, but we don’t normally use it. We will now. And maybe I can hire you to watch the place.”

Parker gave her a flat look. “I already have a job.”

“That’s debatable.” She mirrored his flat look.

Oh, no. They weren’t going back to that argument. “How can you say that after seeing this?”

Bailey opened her mouth, closed it and then huffed. “I know I sound like a lunatic, but I can’t let this control my life—”

The sound shot through the room. Bailey gasped and then mumbled some profanity when she realized that it was just the phone ringing. It was on the floor but obviously still working.

“Don’t go in there to answer it,” Parker reminded her when she moved to do just that.

While the phone continued to ring, Parker had another look around. There were other rooms on the top floor, but nothing in them appeared to have been disturbed.

The phone finally stopped ringing, and Bailey’s answering machine kicked on. “Hi, you’ve reached Bailey Lockhart at Cradles to Crayons Day Care and Preschool,” the recorded message said. Man, her voice was downright perky. “I’m not in my office right now, but please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you. Have a nice day.”

After the beep, Parker heard the caller. “Where are you, Bailey?” the woman asked. She wasn’t nearly as cheerful as Bailey’s recorded message, but he recognized the voice—it was Lila Lockhart, Bailey’s mother. “If you’re there, pick up…Bailey?”

Bailey took out her cell. “I’ll call her,” she grumbled. “I want to talk to her anyway, about you.”

But before she could do that, Lila continued, “Look, I know you’re probably angry about the bodyguard I hired, but it was necessary. And I knew you’d be too stubborn to hire him yourself. How did I possibly give birth to such a bullheaded daughter who won’t listen to reason?”

Bailey’s mouth tightened. Her eyes narrowed a bit.

“Oh, well,” Lila added. “You’re obviously in a snit right now, but get over it, sweetheart. It’s not as if I saddled you with a Neanderthal. Bart sent me Parker Mc Kenna’s photo and his bio. In addition to being incredibly easy on the eyes, he’s a decorated army officer….”

Hell. Parker didn’t need to hear this, and judging from Bailey’s expression, her mother’s opinion of his looks and his military record weren’t helping with his argument to convince her that she did indeed need him.

“I’ll wait downstairs for Sheriff Hale,” Parker mumbled to Bailey.

But on the way down the steps, he could still hear Lila’s voice oozing through the answering machine. “Parker took a bullet for the Under Secretary of Defense a few years ago when things went bad on a hush-hush visit to the Middle East. It shouldn’t be too difficult having him around. In fact, he’s a good catch, and you’re not getting any younger—”

Thankfully, the machine clipped off the rest of what the governor had to say. Also thankfully, Parker heard someone at the front door. Probably the sheriff who could take a stab at talking some sense into Bailey. But when he looked out the small sidelight window, he didn’t see Sheriff Hale. He saw the woman with red hair fumbling with her keys.

Parker unlocked the door and opened it. The woman went stiff when she saw his gun, and she sucked in her breath. “Who are you?”

“Parker McKenna. I’m Bailey’s bodyguard. Who are you?”

“Charlotte Manning. I work here, and I usually come in through the back entrance, but I wanted to see Bailey first. Where is she? Is she all right?”

Since this woman didn’t seem much a threat, Parker put his gun back in his boot holster and hitched his thumb toward the stairs. “She’s in her office. Someone broke in and vandalized it.”

“A break-in?” However, Charlotte didn’t wait for him to confirm it or that Bailey was all right. She mumbled an Oh, God and went racing up the stairs.

Hopefully, this Charlotte Manning could make Bailey understand how serious this situation was.

And another possible ally arrived.

Parker saw the sheriff’s car pull to a quick stop in front of the building. Parker recognized the African-American man who exited. Sheriff Bernard Hale. He was in his late forties and had been sheriff for years. Plenty of experience and he knew Bailey. Hopefully, he could accomplish more than her mother’s call had.

“Captain McKenna,” Bernard greeted when the sheriff reached the front door, and he shook Parker’s hand. “Good to see you again.”

“Parker,” he offered.

“I got over here as fast as I could. You think this is related to that car you showed me on the surveillance film?” the sheriff asked.

“Yeah, I think it probably is.” And he was about to give the sheriff what few details he knew about the break-in. However, his phone rang, and when Parker saw the identity of the caller, he knew he had to answer it. “Bailey’s upstairs. If you need me, just let me know.”

“Zach?” Parker answered the moment the sheriff stepped away. “What’s wrong?”

The question was a given, especially since his son rarely called him. Heck, Zach rarely spoke to him, especially since this move to Freedom. Parker loved his son more than life itself, but he was positive Zach didn’t feel the same about him.

“You forgot to leave the money for basketball camp,” Zach snarled. Or maybe it wasn’t a snarl. Come to think of it, that was the only tone Parker had heard his son use in years.

Parker groaned. Yes, he had forgotten, though Zach had left him a reminder note taped to the fridge. His son needed twenty-five dollars for a half-day camp being held at the town’s community center.

“You said I could go,” Zach accused. “You said you’d leave the money.”

Yes, he had—Zach’s request and his approval had also been delivered in notes they’d left for each other. And Parker had meant to put the money on the kitchen counter, but this morning he’d gotten caught up viewing those surveillance disks, and then he had rushed out of the house so he could follow Bailey from her home to work. He’d been doing that for over a week now in the hopes of not just protecting her but also catching her stalker.

“I’m at Cradles to Crayons on Main Street,” Parker explained. He heard footsteps behind him, turned and spotted Bailey and Charlotte making their way down the stairs. “And I can’t leave right now. I’m on the job.” Whether Bailey considered it a job or not.

Parker obviously couldn’t see his son’s face, but he heard Zach’s silent disapproval. Of course, Zach disapproved of everything, so this was nothing new. “I’ll ride my bike over there and get it.”

Since their new house was only a quarter mile away, Parker couldn’t object. Well, he could because he was always worried when Zach was on his bike and near traffic.

Heck, he was always worried about him, period.

But he wanted Zach to attend that camp. It was a chance for him to meet some new friends before school started in mid-August, just six weeks away. God knew his son needed someone to help him adjust to the move and yet another new school.

“Zach, when you get here, don’t come inside.” Parker didn’t want Zach underfoot during the sheriff’s investigation, not that his son would want to be underfoot anyway. “I’ll meet you on the porch. Oh, and remember to wear your helmet and watch out for cars.”

“Right.” More of the snarling tone, and he hung up.

“Your son’s coming here?” he heard Bailey ask.

“He won’t stay long,” Parker settled for saying. He hadn’t wanted her to hear any of that conversation. “Have you changed your mind about closing down for the day?”

“No.” Bailey folded her arms over her chest and shook her head, causing her silver hoop earrings to dangle against her hair and ears. “It’s too late to call everyone. Parents are already on their way. Besides, if the children don’t come here, a lot of the parents would have to miss work.” She glanced at Charlotte as if seeking approval.

Charlotte didn’t exactly give that approval. She looked shaken up, and rightfully so. “I need to go to the preschool and unlock the door.”

Parker knew the preschool section was in the back of the building, an addition that Bailey had added on to accommodate the classes. “You can’t access the preschool from inside this building?”

Charlotte shook her head. “We have a door that leads from here to there, but it’s blocked off right now for a construction project. We’re adding another bathroom. It’s no big deal. I’ll just go outside and around back.”

“I’ll go with you so I can make sure no one broke into that area,” Parker offered.

“If they had broken in, it would have set off the security alarms,” Charlotte explained. “And the company that monitors it would have called either Bailey or me.”

“You use the security system?” Parker asked.

Charlotte nodded. “Just in that area and the basement. It has its own separate system that was added when it was built. We have a lot of computers and other equipment, and what with the older kids out of school for summer break, I didn’t want to tempt anyone with sticky fingers.”

“Smart move.” Parker made sure he looked at Bailey when he said that.

Charlotte gave Bailey’s arm a pat and shot him a glare, probably for the insult he’d just given her boss, and Charlotte headed back out the front door. Parker didn’t close it behind her because he wanted to watch for Zach. It wouldn’t take his son long to get here.

“Did the sheriff find anything yet?” Parker asked Bailey.

“No.” She looked up at him, shrugged. “But we might get lucky.”

“You already were lucky. Lucky that you weren’t here when your stalker broke in.”

Though Parker doubted that would have happened. No. This guy was a coward and had waited until a time when he was sure he wouldn’t be caught. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be very dangerous.

Bailey blinked hard, and he realized she was blinking back tears. “I can’t let this control me. I can’t let my mother do that, either. You don’t know her. She’s a good woman, and she’s been good for the state of Texas, but when it comes to her kids, especially me, she’s a micromanaging control freak.”

“That bad, huh?” Parker mumbled. “Well, at least she didn’t hire a Neanderthal to protect you.”

It wasn’t the right time to attempt anything light. He didn’t need to be defusing this situation even in the smallest kind of way. He wanted Bailey to be afraid so she would turn to him for protection. That was the plan, anyway. But after watching her fight those tears, his plan had gone south.

Parker cursed what he was about to do but did it anyway. He slipped his arm around Bailey and pulled her closer to him. She put up a token resistance and shoved her fist against his chest, but she didn’t step away.

“I know you must be good at your job,” Bailey said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She spoke with her mouth right against his shoulder. “But if I allow you to stay, it’s as if I’m letting my mother win this battle of wills.”

He leaned his head down so that the corner of his eye met the corner of hers. “So, let me get this straight. You’d rather win than be safe?”

Bailey stared up at him. She also huffed. “You have a knack for making me feel like an idiot, you know that?”

“Really? Because I didn’t think I was getting anywhere with you.”

“You’re not getting anywhere,” she snapped. “Other than the making-me-feel-like-an-idiot part. I’ve already said I’ll take precautions—”

When she stopped, Parker followed her gaze.

His son, with helmet in hand and his bike propped against the steps, was standing there on the porch. And he was eyeing the close contact between Bailey and Parker.

“Zach,” Parker managed to say. “You’re here already.”

“Zach?” Bailey repeated. She jerked away from Parker. “Uh, this is nothing. I’m just a little upset, and your dad lent me his shoulder.”

“Okay.” Zach couldn’t have possibly sounded more disinterested, but he still volleyed strange looks between the two.

Probably because he’d never seen his dad close to a woman.

Parker had dated a little in the last year or two, but he had never brought women home and never introduced them to Zach. He didn’t want his son thinking he’d gotten over his mother’s death. That might feel like a betrayal to her memory.

“The money,” Parker remembered, fishing through his back jeans pocket for his wallet.

“You’re Bailey Lockhart,” Zach said, dodging eye contact with both Parker and her. “I saw a picture of you in the gym at the community center. You were, like, young then. I mean, not like you are now.”

Parker didn’t know who winced more—him or his son.

Bailey smiled, though Parker was sure it was forced. “I played basketball in high school and college. Freedom doesn’t have many so-called star athletes, so I made the cut and got my picture on the wall.”

Parker knew she’d been an athlete. It was his job to study her background, but he was surprised that his son even had a clue who she was.

“What position did you play?” Zach asked, idly taking the money from Parker. He was making eye contact—with Bailey.

“Point guard. How about you?”

“Off guard, but if I grow a few more inches, I can move to forward. I’ve already checked out the other guys who’ll be on the team, and there’s only one who’s taller than me.”

“Josh Bracken,” Bailey provided, and that prompted Zach to nod. “His dad is a deputy sheriff.”

The corner of Zach’s mouth lifted just a fraction. “Yeah. Josh is good, too. There was a basketball hoop already in the driveway when we moved in so Josh has been coming over so we can practice. He’s got a wicked outside shot.”

Parker just stared at them. This was the most he’d heard Zach speak in a year. Of course, he wasn’t actually speaking with him but rather Bailey.

Bailey smiled again, and this time it didn’t seem forced at all. “Well, since you’re the spitting image of your dad, I’m betting you’ll inherit his height, too. It won’t be long before you’re eye to eye with him and can play forward.”

Zach glanced at Parker. No more partial smile. In fact, no smile at all. His normal scowl returned. “Gotta go. The camp starts in fifteen minutes.” He mumbled something to Bailey about it being good to meet her.

“He’s a nice kid,” Bailey said, watching as Zach put on his helmet and rode away on his bike.

Nice certainly wasn’t the word Parker would have used to describe him. Their relationship was strained at best. “I wasn’t around much when he was growing up.”

“Well, he certainly turned out all right.” Bailey pulled back her shoulders, her attention still on the outside front. “People are starting to arrive.”

Parker spotted three cars pulling into the parking lot. “You’re sure you want to do business as usual?”

“I want to try.” However, she didn’t sound as certain as she had earlier. “I’ll talk to my staff and the parents and tell them what’s going on. If they want to keep their children away from here, then that’s their decision, but I’ll stay open for those who want to stay.”

Parker took a deep breath, to gear up for round three with her, but he heard someone coming down the stairs. It was Sheriff Hale, and he was taking the steps two at a time.

“I just got a call,” the sheriff told Parker. “That black car with the bogus plates that you saw on the surveillance tapes—my deputy just spotted it.”

“Where?” Bailey immediately asked.

“On Main Street, just a few blocks away, and he’s headed in this direction.”

Chapter Three

Bailey paced across the reception area of the day care and checked the time on her cell phone. Five minutes since the last time she’d looked and over two hours since Sheriff Hale had told Parker and her about the black car.

Time was crawling by.

So was one of the toddlers, Bailey noticed.

She had to smile at the irony. Elijah, who was almost a year old, was trying to escape from the front play room. He didn’t get far before one of the workers, Audra Finmore, hurried out to scoop him up. Elijah giggled, obviously unaware of a menacing black car and her vandalized office.

“Any news?” Audra asked.

Bailey shook her head and checked her phone. Nothing other than the six calls from her mother, which she had let go straight to voice mail. Ditto for the two from her mother’s personal bodyguard, Tim Penske, whom her mother had no doubt pestered to call Bailey, as well. But Bailey didn’t want to talk to her mom or Tim until she had some answers, and right now she was very short of those.

She still wanted to believe this was nothing. Bailey wanted to stick with her bored-teenager theory to explain the slashed tires, the hang-up calls and the mess in her office. But until the sheriff spoke to the driver of that black car and got a reasonable explanation for why he was in town, then Bailey figured the knot in her stomach was there to stay.

“Enough of this,” she mumbled.

The exteriors doors and windows were all locked, the security system was on and the sheriff would call the moment he knew anything. Since she couldn’t use her office, Bailey decided to go to the playroom because she wanted the welcome distraction of the children.

First though, she stopped by the bathroom and touched up her makeup. There wasn’t much she could do about her eyes that were red from crying, but she added some powder so that her cheeks wouldn’t appear so streaked. She didn’t want anyone to know that this situation had caused her to shed a single tear.

She strolled to the playroom where the staff and children were. There weren’t many.

Two workers and seven children.

Normally, there would be six other staff members and close to fifty kids since parents from nearby towns brought their children to Cradles to Crayons. However, when Bailey had told everyone what was going on, only those with no other childcare choices left their children—even after she had assured them that she would do everything humanly possible to protect their children. And she would. But it wouldn’t bring back the children anytime soon.

It broke her heart.

This wasn’t just her business. It was her life. And that idiot stalker was trying to rob her of what she loved most.

She fought back tears, again, and looked around the room. The tears dried up instantly when she spotted Parker. He was sitting on the floor, keeping watch out the front window where he’d pulled down the shade halfway.

But there was also a baby in his lap.

Maddie Simmons was almost two years old and had blond curls that haloed around her cherub cheeks. Unlike some of the other children, Maddie wasn’t afraid of strangers.

Obviously.

She was right in Parker’s face and was babbling while she wiggled her fingers in front of him. Parker continued to glance out the window, but his attention kept returning to Maddie.

Intrigued at this cowboy warrior’s interaction with the angelic little girl, Bailey walked closer. Parker looked up, and their gazes collided. He had a strange expression on his face, a mixture of shock, concern, amusement and a little of get-me-out-of-here.

“She’s teaching me the ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ song, I think,” Parker explained.

Maddie verified that by smiling and babbling, “Bitty, bitty pider.” She clapped her hands and then started another set of sounds. “Tinkle, tinkle.”

Bailey recognized this one. “‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’ I think she wants you to sing it.”

Parker looked at Bailey as if she’d had just asked to jump out of plane without a parachute. “I don’t think so. I can’t sing.”

That only encouraged Maddie to get closer. “Tinkle. Tinkle.” She exaggerated the sounds as if trying to teach him.

Parker shook his head again, but Maddie persisted by pinching his mouth, and Parker finally mumbled the first line of the song. He was totally off-key, sounding very froglike, but it delighted Maddie so much that the little girl laughed and plopped a kiss on his cheek.

Despite the knot in her stomach, Bailey couldn’t stave off a smile. Children were magical.

She walked closer and eased down on the floor beside them. She positioned herself so that she too could keep watch. “Anything from the sheriff?” she asked Parker.

“Fifteen minutes ago he called and said several deputies from the surrounding towns have joined the search.”

“Good. If they’re still looking, that means they still have hopes of finding the driver of that car.”

“Maybe.” Parker paused. “And what if they don’t?”

That required a deep breath. “Then life goes on as usual.” She glanced around at the handful of kids. “Or as close to usual as possible.”

“Without me?” he pressed.

Another deep breath. “I’m sure with your credentials, Bart Bellows will have another job for you.”

“We’re back to that part about not wanting your mother to win.”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. But then she hesitated. “You won’t have trouble getting work elsewhere?”

“No,” he also said without hesitation. “As soon as the sheriff gives us the all clear, I’ll call Bart and tell him I’m off the case.”

Bailey nodded. Good. This was what she wanted.

The knot in her stomach tightened.

Maddie tried to get up, but she got off balanced. Bailey reached for her, but Parker beat her to it. He gently caught onto the toddler’s arm and steadied her.

“You’re good with kids,” she commented.

There it was again—the total shock in Parker’s eyes. “I’m not.”

Bailey flinched at his suddenly rough tone. “But Zach—”

“I wasn’t around much when he was this age. Or any other age,” he corrected.

That sounded like old baggage that he didn’t especially want to discuss. Bailey shrugged. “I suppose it was hard for you to be home a lot because of your commitment to the army.”

Parker didn’t answer. He stared at the window, until Maddie began to sing her version of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” The cheerful song definitely didn’t go with the somber mood in the room, but her staff was trying to keep things upbeat.

Charlotte was at a work table making Fourth of July decorations with two of the older children, and Audra was arranging the others into a circle for a scaled down version of Duck Duck Goose. Bailey knew from experience that all the running around from the game would tire out the kids, and at least several would need a nap.

When Maddie saw the game forming, she babbled bye-bye to Parker, gave him another kiss and toddled over to join the others.

“Why this?” Parker asked, drawing Bailey’s attention back to him. “Why run a day care?” Parker’s investigation had confirmed her trust fund. She didn’t need to work. And she obviously loved kids…

Bailey heard the unspoken part of question, mainly because her mother often spoke it aloud. “You mean why am I here instead of raising a family of my own?”

Parker gave a begrudging nod. “I guess that’s what I meant.”

“I love kids, but I haven’t met anyone I’d like to have kids with. My last relationship ended badly.” Very badly. As in he turned out to be a low-life scum who cheated on her with a lap dancer and then told the press all about two-timing the governor’s daughter. “Let’s just say, I’m not a prize catch for most guys.”

“Right.” His eyebrow lifted. “You’re beautiful, rich and smart. Guys hate that in a woman.”

Bailey bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. “Thank you.”

He thought she was beautiful.

That was something else to take her mind off the black car, but Bailey did glance out to make sure it wasn’t there. “I also have a mother who’s the governor, and while Mom says she would love for me to marry and give her grandchildren, she’s yet to approve of any man I’ve dated.”

Parker stared at her. “You need her approval?”

“No.” Bailey pushed her hair away from her face. “But sometimes it would be nice to get it.”

He made a sound, a rumble deep within his throat. “In the message that she left on your machine, she seemed to be playing matchmatcher with you and me.”

“All talk, I assure you,” Bailey mumbled. “She’ll find fault even with a non-Neanderthal guy like you.”

She hated this turn in the conversation. Hated that she’d just revealed something that personal to a man who was practically a stranger. If she continued with this, it wouldn’t be long before she told him that she was toying with the idea of using artificial insemination to get pregnant.

Now, that would get him running. But it would also be revealing a secret wish that she wasn’t ready to reveal to anyone. Time to switch gears to something more palatable, but Parker changed it for her.

“Who’s that?” he asked and got to his feet.

She looked out the window and spotted the familiar dark-haired man making his way toward the porch. “Sidney Burrell, the handyman. He’s putting in that bathroom Charlotte told you about.” Bailey checked the date on her watch. “Though he wasn’t supposed to work today. He only works after hours, after all the children are gone.”

Parker stood at the window and studied him. “When he’s here, he has access to the entire building?”

“Of course. Why?”

“You trust him?” Parker fired back.

Bailey was about to say yes, but she hesitated. “He moved to Freedom about four months ago so I don’t know him that well, but he had good references. And he hasn’t done anything to make me distrust him.” She noticed his alarmed expression, and that alarmed her. “Why all the questions?”

Parker didn’t take his attention off the man. “I think he’s carrying a concealed weapon.”

She jumped to her feet. “What?”

“Look at the slight bulge around the ankle of his jeans.”

She did look, and yes, there was a bulge. “You think that means he has a gun?”

“Wait here,” Parker ordered, and he hurried out the room and toward the front door.

Bailey had no intention of doing that. Ahead of her, Parker disengaged the security system and threw open the front door just as Sidney was coming up the steps. Even though Parker didn’t draw his own gun, Sidney stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened, and he volleyed glances between Parker and her.

“I heard about the car everyone’s looking for,” Sidney said. “It’s all over town. I came over to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” Bailey lied.

Parker stepped out onto the porch and would have shut the door in her face, if she hadn’t caught onto it. Parker shot her a warning glance over his shoulder, probably so that she would go back inside, but Bailey went on the porch with him.

“This is Parker McKenna,” she said, trying to make it sound like a casual introduction.

Parker didn’t wait for Sidney to respond. “Are you carrying a gun?”

Sidney pulled back his shoulders. “What business is that of yours?”

“Are you carrying a gun?” Parker repeated. He took a single step closer to Sidney, but that step along with his expression had a menacing feel to it.

“Yeah.” Sidney’s expression took on a menacing feel, as well. “I am. But I have a permit to carry concealed.”

Since Bailey’s emotions were already running high, she forced herself to put this in perspective, though she didn’t like the fact this man had been in her day care with a weapon strapped to his ankle.

Except Parker had a weapon too, she reminded herself.

“Why carry a gun?” Bailey asked.

Sidney shrugged and softened his glare when he looked at her. “My house isn’t in town, and a time or two I’ve come home to find coyotes in my yard. It’s easier to have the gun on me than in the glove compartment of the truck.”

She nodded, accepting that. “I’d prefer if you didn’t wear it in the building,” she simply stated.

Sidney’s mouth tightened. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“It is,” Parker answered for her.

For a moment she thought Sidney might argue with that, but he finally smiled and tipped his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

For some reason, that sounded like a threat. Or maybe it was just the nerves getting to her. Parker and she stood there and watched Sidney walk away. The man got into a blue pickup truck and drove off.

“You should call Bart and ask him to run a background check on this guy,” Parker suggested.

That was a good idea, and Bailey made a mental note to be more careful about the people she hired. When had her life gotten so complicated?

Her phone rang, and even though she’d been expecting and even praying for this particular call, her heart began to pound when she saw the sheriff’s name on the screen. Her hand was shaking too, but she pressed the button to answer it and put it on speaker so Parker could hear.

“Did you find the car?” Bailey immediately asked.

“No,” Sheriff Hale said after several snail-crawling moments. “We looked hard, Bailey, but that car isn’t on any road in this county. I figure the guy knows we’re onto him, and he’s long gone.”

Bailey tried not to react, and on the outside she probably didn’t. Inside was a different matter.

“We’ll keep looking, of course,” the sheriff continued. “I’ll review each new security tape. And I’ll have one of the deputies drive by Cradles to Crayons at least every hour. We got this situation under control, Bailey, and I don’t want you worrying about it.”

“Thank you,” she told him, and she clicked the end call button.

She didn’t move. Bailey just stood there, even though the July heat was brutal. Sweat was starting to trickle down her back.

“Okay,” Parker mumbled. “That’s that, then.” He extended his hand for her to shake.

A farewell shake, no doubt.

Bailey stared at his hand. Then at Parker himself. And she had the sickening feeling that her life depended on the decision she was about to make.

Chapter Four

Well, it was a victory, but Parker didn’t feel like celebrating.

Yes, Bailey had told him that he could continue to be her bodyguard, but since she’d snarled when she said it, Parker didn’t think this was an employer-employee match made in heaven.

She drove ahead of him in her BMW and pulled into her neighborhood, an area Parker knew well since he’d been watching her for days.

But who else had been watching her?

Parker had been careful and observant, and he hadn’t seen anyone suspicious, but those surveillance tapes proved otherwise. He hoped like hell that the driver of that mysterious black car didn’t have some kind of insider information about Bailey’s schedule, but then she was pretty predictable.

During the workweek, Bailey went to the day care at six forty-five and came home around seven p.m. Sometimes later. She often took meals with female friends or members of her staff at the diner, Talk of the Town, but other than that, she didn’t have much of a social life.

Was that because she was nursing a broken heart?

Since Parker had already done an extensive background check on Bailey, he knew about her failed relationship with the Dallas real estate tycoon Trey Masters, who’d been downright chatty with the tabloids about what it was like to date the governor’s daughter. It hadn’t been pretty, and since that happened only four months ago, that might explain the no-male company in Bailey’s life.

Parker also knew other things. Personal things. For instance, on Saturday, Bailey had visited a fertility clinic in Amarillo. He knew because he’d followed her there and had seen her collect their literature on artificial insemination and single parenthood. He wondered if the governor knew about her daughter’s possible plans to become a mother.

Having a child of her own would suit Bailey all right. He had seen her with the children at the day care, and she was a natural.

Ahead of him, Bailey pulled into the driveway of her prairie-style house. It was homey, not at all what he’d expected when he’d first seen it a week earlier. Across the entire front of the house was a porch, complete with hanging plants, rocking chairs and even a swing.

She got out and immediately looked back at him as he brought his truck to a stop behind her. Even though she was wearing dark sunglasses now, she was no doubt still glaring. And probably hating that she had no other choice but to rely on him for her personal safety.

“There’s no reason for you to check the house,” she told him, again.

Parker ignored her, again. “I just want to make sure no one has broken in.”

“I have a security system, and I use it.”

“So you’ve said. But there are ways around a security system. Humor me, Bailey. This won’t take long, and it’ll make me sleep better tonight.”

She huffed, just as he knew she would do, and pushed her shades to the top of her head. With her keys ready, she walked to front door. Probably because her hands were still shaking, something she wouldn’t dare admit, it took her several seconds to get it unlocked. Almost immediately the security system began to whine, and she punched in the code on the wall keypad to disarm it.

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