JACK'S CHRISTMAS MISSION Page 15

  "What?" Peggy Jo stopped dead in her tracks.

  "Those two have had their heads together all morning," Hetty said. "Wendy told Jack that you had tickets to take her to see The Nutcracker at the Tivoli, and I told him he was welcome to take my ticket. They have the whole afternoon plotted out, so you might as well not put up a fuss. We can work on Christmas decorations here at the house tomorrow and all next week."

  "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetpea. I'd forgotten all about the play at the Tivoli. Of course we'll go." Peggy Jo purposely avoided even glancing at Jack. She was afraid if she looked at him, Hetty would figure out exactly what was wrong with her this morning. "But what's this about your wanting to go see Santa?"

  "That was my idea," Jack said. "I talked her into it. At least once in their life, every kid should sit on Santa's lap and tell him what they want for Christmas."

  "Do you really want to do that?" Peggy Jo asked her daughter.

  "Yes, Mommy, I do. Jack said it would be fun and that I could pretend he was the real Santa—if there is a real Santa—and tell him my secret Christmas wish."

  Peggy Jo smiled at her daughter, enjoying the excitement that glowed in the little girl's eyes.

  When Wendy turned back around to the game she was playing, Peggy Jo's gaze met Jack's head-on. Her stomach knotted. Her nerves quivered. Her body instantly recalled the pleasure he had given it last night.

  She swallowed as she continued staring at him. He smiled. She returned his smile. Hetty cleared her throat loudly. Peggy Jo jerked around and scurried into the kitchen.

  As she removed the coffee beans from the refrigerator, Hetty came up beside her. She tried to ignore her housekeeper's presence, but when she reached for a measuring cup, Hetty grabbed her arm.

  "Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I make an educated guess and tell you?"

  "Please, Hetty, leave it be. Nothing's going on," Peggy Jo said.

  "Don't give me that, missy," Hetty said quietly. "Something's happened between you and Jack. And don't even think about denying it."

  She'd have to tell Hetty something, anything to stop her from delving too deeply. "All right," Peggy Jo whispered. "He kissed me. There, are you satisfied?"

  "And you kissed him back, didn't you?"

  "Oh, all right. We kissed each other." Peggy Jo measured the coffee beans and dumped them into the coffee grinder. The sound of the machine prevented further conversation, at least temporarily.

  The minute Peggy Jo removed the ground coffee from the grinder and poured it into the filter already in the coffee maker, Hetty took the pot, filled it with water and then emptied the water into the reservoir.

  "Is that all that happened?" Hetty asked.

  "You're being awfully nosy."

  "You're being awfully secretive."

  "What I did or didn't do with Jack is none of your business."

  "I knew it!" Hetty's voice rose just a fraction.

  "Shh. Please, lower your voice."

  "Peggy Jo Riley, you slept with him, didn't you?"

  No, no, a thousand times no! It wasn't possible that Hetty knew for certain what had happened. She'd just have to lie her way out of this one. No way was she going to confess to the matchmaker of the century that she and Jack had made love last night.

  "Whatever gave you such a ridiculous idea?"

  "Because I came downstairs to fix me some warm milk in the middle of the night. I'd woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. And I just happened to notice that Jack's bedroom door was closed. So, I checked in your room to see if you were all right, and you know what I found?"

  Peggy Jo shook her head.

  "I found your bed was empty and came to the logical conclusion that you were in Jack's bed with him."

  Peggy Jo groaned. "It was just sex."

  "Mmm-hmm."

  "It was. And it isn't going to happen again. We defused the bomb. Or we exploded the bomb." Peggy Jo shook her hands in front of her in a frustrated gesture. "Oh, whatever. The point is the bomb won't go off again."

  "Oh, missy, if that's what you think, you're kidding yourself. With a man like Jack, once wouldn't ever be enough. You'd just better prepare yourself for another explosion."

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  Jack hadn't voiced a protest when she'd told him she intended to drive herself to work this morning and every morning this week. She realized that doing the driving herself was a minor thing, but these days she needed to feel in control of something, even if it was only the little things. Jack had gone out ten minutes ago to start the car and let it warm up. She assumed that he also wanted to inspect the vehicle, as well as check for anything vaguely suspicious in the neighborhood. There was no point in denying the fact, even to herself, that having Jack around made her feel infinitely safer. And not just because he was a man, but because he was a professional.

  Peggy Jo had successfully avoided being alone with Jack most of Saturday and Sunday. She didn't trust herself to be alone with him. Even in small doses, he was lethal to her iron-willed resolve. She still couldn't believe she'd had sex with him. But what disturbed her even more was the fact that she didn't regret what she'd done. Knowing that she could not allow it to happen again didn't immunize her against the desire that simmered below the surface, just waiting for the right moment to heat up again. Having Wendy with her as much as possible had helped keep things nonthreatening between Jack and her. But Hetty hadn't been any help at all. In fact, she had tried to find ways to put Peggy Jo and Jack alone together every chance she got.

  Busying herself with constant activity had been crucial to keeping her bodyguard at arm's length. Saturday afternoon they had attended the play at the Tivoli, gone to the Northgate Mall to visit Santa and on the way home stopped by Panera Bread Bakery & Café. That night they had decorated the tree. On Sunday they'd spent the afternoon finishing the decorations throughout the house, and Jack had even put up the icicle lights outside. She'd been able to use Wendy as a buffer during the days, and each night she'd sought the solace and safety of her room. Jack didn't come to her, didn't bother her in any way. When he'd said good-night Saturday and Sunday nights, he'd gone to his room and stayed there until morning.

  Fortunately, her stalker didn't strike again, but she suspected he was simply lying in wait, letting her relax just enough that when he pulled his next stunt, she'd be all the more terrorized by the experience. In a rare moment when they were alone in the den last night, she had run her theory by Jack, who had agreed with her and at the same time tried to reassure her. She had pretended not to see the questions in his eyes, knowing full well that he wanted to talk to her about more personal matters. But he had not pressed her, and for that she was thankful.

  Finding out from the police that neither Ross Brewster nor Chet Compton had alibis for Friday afternoon made her dread going to work this morning. They both had to know that Jack suspected them, otherwise why would Detective Gifford have questioned them? Ross had told the police that he'd been alone in his apartment studying, but there was no one who could corroborate his story. And Chet had sworn he'd left work early on Friday to do a little Christmas shopping, but he couldn't name a single person who might be able to swear to his whereabouts.

  And as for the police running a check on Buck Forbes—Detective Gifford had promised Jack a report by Monday. And today was Monday. She wasn't sure she wanted to know anything about her ex-husband. Where he was living or what he was doing. The man hadn't been a part of her life in thirteen years and she wanted to keep it that way. After all, Detective Gifford was probably right when he'd asked what reason Buck would have to come back into her life to torment her now, after all these years.

  Hetty rushed out into the driveway, waving her arms. Peggy Jo stopped the car and rolled down the window.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong," Hetty said. "Mrs. Pullman just called and said you could pick up Missy's angel costume this morning since her house is right on your wa
y."

  "Okay, thanks." Peggy Jo closed the window, then glanced into the back seat at Wendy. "Can't this wait until Hetty picks you up this afternoon?"

  "No, Mommy, please, let's go get it now." Her big blue eyes pleaded. "Today everybody's going to be in their costumes so we can do the play all dressed up. If I don't have Missy's angel outfit, I'll be the only one—"

  "Enough said. We'll stop by the Pullman's." Peggy Jo's concession ended Wendy's pitiful whining.

  When she backed the Sebring onto the street, Jack turned toward the back seat and said, "So, when's the play? You've been talking about it, but you didn't say what night it was."

  "It's this Thursday." Wendy's voice held that edge of excitement and anticipation that usually only children experienced. "I'm so glad you're staying with us now, so you can come to the play. I wish Fur Ball could come, too."

  "I've told you that we can't carry Fur Ball with us to the play," Peggy Jo said.

  "We'll take lots of pictures and show him," Jack said. "Isn't that right, Mommy?"

  "Yes, of course. And if you're very good this week and do everything you're told without a fuss, I might get one of the WLOK cameramen to come to the school Friday night and videotape the play for us."

  "Oh, Mommy!" Wendy squealed. "I promise I'll be very good.

  Five minutes later, they drove into the Pullmans' driveway. Before Peggy Jo even opened the door, Mrs. Pullman came outside, the angel costume in her hand. She hurried toward the car, her unbuttoned plaid flannel housecoat flapping against her as she walked into the early morning wind.

  Peggy Jo got out and met her. "I'm sorry Missy has the flu. I appreciate your letting us borrow her costume. It certainly saved us from having to come up with one at the last minute."

  "No problem. And I don't think you'll need to make any adjustments since our girls are almost the same size. They're both little petite dolls."

  "Yes, they are." Peggy Jo grabbed the clothes hanger holding the outfit. "Thanks so much."

  "You're most welcome." Mrs. Pullman glanced beyond Peggy Jo and into the car. "Is that your bodyguard? I heard he was from Atlanta, but he looks like a cowboy."

  "Yes, that's him." Peggy Jo began backing away, trying to make her escape.

  "Must be just terrible having to be protected night and day."

  Mrs. Pullman followed Peggy Jo toward the car, her gaze riveted to Jack. Peggy Jo didn't want to be rude, but she didn't have the time to indulge this nosy woman's curiosity any more than she already had.

  "We're running late," Peggy Jo said, then opened the car door. "I have to get Wendy to school. Bye. And thanks again."

  She opened the back door, hung the costume on the clothes hook, then hopped in the front seat and started the engine. As she backed out of the drive, she caught a glimpse of Mrs. Pullman still standing in her driveway.

  "I love this dress," Wendy said. "And look at these wings!"

  "You're going to be the most beautiful angel that ever made an appearance in a school play," Jack said. "Right, Mommy?"

  "Right. The most beautiful ever."

  Stopping by the Pullmans to pick up the prized costume ran them late. Peggy Jo hated being late. She prided herself on always being on time. Whenever something unexpected came up, like this morning, it tended to color the rest of her day—gray and gloomy.

  "I'll go in and explain why you're late." Peggy Jo unbuckled her seat belt.

  Jack hopped out of the car, opened the back door and helped Wendy out, then he removed the white diaphanous angel gown and papier-mâché wings that hung on the clothes hook above the door. Together the threesome entered the building. Wendy clasped Jack's hand tightly, and when they walked down the hall, she tugged on his hand and motioned for him to bend over so she could tell him something.

  When he paused and leaned down, she whispered, "Some of the kids may think you're my daddy. I told them just because they'd never seen my daddy, didn't mean I didn't have one."

  Peggy Jo pretended not to hear what her daughter had just confessed. Instead she said, "Why don't you let Jack walk you to your class while I go to the office and explain why you're late."

  Wendy's little face lit up. "Oh, gee, yes, that'd be great."

  Later would be soon enough to talk to Wendy and clear up, once again, any notions she had about Jack taking over the role of daddy in their household. But for now she simply didn't have the heart to reprimand her child or deny her the pleasure of letting some of the other children wonder if the man holding her hand was her daddy.

  * * *

  Jack remained quiet on their drive to WLOK, hoping that Peggy Jo would say something to him. But she remained silent. Apparently, she wanted to pretend that nothing had happened between them Friday night. He realized that she'd avoided being alone with him over the weekend and had kept Wendy with her as much as possible. She had to know that he wouldn't try to talk her into doing something she didn't want to do. If Friday night had been a one-night stand, then he could accept that fact. All she had to do was just tell him.

  He had thought seriously about contacting Ellen and asking her to replace him with another Dundee agent, but he just couldn't bring himself to turn over this case to someone else. Besides, there were only a handful of top agents whom he'd trust to take care of Peggy Jo, and all of them were on assignments, including Dundee's three female agents. Matt O'Brien was on the west coast. Domingo Shea was in the Caribbean. Frank Latimer and Jed Tyree had both been assigned the duty of being instructors for the new Dundee recruits. Every new agent, regardless of his background, had to go through six weeks of specialized training.

  If he hadn't allowed this case to become personal to him, he might find it easier to walk away. But by the same reasoning, if he hadn't let it become so personal to him, he'd have no need to walk away. He couldn't help wondering if Peggy Jo might call Ellen and ask if one of the female agents was free now. When they had met, less than a week ago, she'd been adamant about wanting him replaced as soon as possible.

  The minute they parked, Jack got out and quickly came to her side of the car. She accepted his assistance, but didn't make direct eye contact with him. He stayed at her side until they reached her office, then he posted himself in a chair and watched her as she began her workday routine. Kayla had already made coffee, and she hurriedly brought Peggy Jo a cup, then glanced at him.

  "Want some coffee, Mr. Parker?"

  "Thanks. I can help myself."

  "Kayla, have you seen Chet or Ross this morning?" Peggy Jo asked.

  "Ross called to say he couldn't come in this morning," Kayla replied. "But Chet is here. He's in an awful mood, too. And he asked me to let him know when you arrived."

  "He's probably really ticked off," Peggy Jo said. "I'm sure he didn't like having Detective Gifford question him."

  "Why did the police question Chet?" Kayla asked. "They don't suspect him of being your stalker, do they?"

  Jack could tell that Peggy Jo felt reluctant to respond, so he thought it best to do it for her. "The police are keeping tabs on several men who know Peggy Jo. Just as a precaution. No one has been accused of anything. Not yet."

  "Then should I or should I not let Chet know that Peggy Jo is here? I'm going to pick up the morning mail and I might run into him."

  Peggy Jo finally looked at Jack. "I think I should talk to Chet myself. Otherwise, he's going to take his frustration out on everyone else at the studio today."

  "Fine," Jack told her. "Whatever you think best."

  She turned to her assistant. "Stop by Chet's office and tell him I'm here and I'll come by his office before I go on the set."

  "Sure thing."

  The minute Kayla left, Peggy Jo entered her dressing room. Jack followed, and when she sat down in front of the minored wall and began going through her supply of makeup, he walked up behind her.

  "Are we ever going to talk about it?" he asked.

  "About what?" She chose lipstick, eyeliner and blush, laying each item on the vanity tabl
e.

  "About what happened between us on Friday night."

  Without so much as blinking an eye, she said, "We wanted it. We did it. It's over. What's there to talk about?"

  He clamped his hands down on the back of her chair. "That's it? That's all you have to say?"

  "What do you want from me? I warned you that I'm not like the other women you've known. I'm not going to fall apart on you and beg you to—"

  Jack whirled the chair around so fast that she was forced to face him. Gasping loudly, she glared up at him. For a split second he saw fear in her eyes. Damn! He hadn't meant to frighten her.

  "Nobody's asking you to do any begging." He leaned over her, his gaze linking with hers as he grabbed the chair's wide armrests. "But don't pretend with me that Friday night didn't mean something to you. You may be too tough to fall apart emotionally after the fact, but you came apart in my arms when we made love."

  "We had sex!"

  "Is that what this is all about? You think it wasn't anything more than sex for me?"

  "Just shut up about it, will you? There's no point in discussing it." She tried to force the chair to turn, but Jack wouldn't allow her to budge.

  "If you're not upset about it for some reason, then why not talk about it?" He released his fierce hold on the armrests and whirled her around to face the mirror again, then brought his face down beside hers. "Take a good look, darling. You're blushing."

  Shutting her eyes, she refused to look into the mirror. She didn't want to see the two of them together. Cheek-to-cheek. "Please, Jack, just go in the other room and leave me alone for a few minutes. I'm not going to discuss what happened Friday night. As far as I'm concerned, we're both better off to forget it ever happened."

  "Is that what you really want?"

  She nodded her head. "Yes."

  "Fine. Have it your way."

  Shaking her until her teeth rattled wasn't an option. Neither was kissing her into submission. If anything happened between them again, she would have to instigate it. Never let it be said that Jack Parker got down on his knees and crawled to any woman.