To Love, Honor and Defend
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Libby took in Ally’s empty plate and sauce-smeared face and had to grin herself.
“Hey, kitten. Looks like you’re a member of the Clean Plate Club!” He leaned a little closer to dab a napkin at the mess on Ally’s mouth and chin. “You know that means you get a lollipop for dessert, don’t you?”
Ally arched an eyebrow in a manner so like her father, Libby’s pulse stumbled. The little girl sat an inch or two closer to the table and eyed the remaining slices on the tray. “Is there more?”
“Sure, you can have more, sweetie.” He reloaded her plate and backed off as Ally dived in, once again stripping off the pepperoni for consumption first.
Cal’s relief was palpable. His shoulders relaxed, and the tension flowed out of his jaw, allowing the radiance of his smile to shine through. He turned his dazzling grin toward Libby, and a strange warmth expanded in her chest, stealing her breath.
She’d promised to play family with Cal for as long as it took for him to secure his rights to Ally. How would she ever survive months of marriage if just one night with him and his precious daughter had her emotions twisted in knots?
The only way she saw herself getting through the next several months with her heart intact was to set limits, lay out some ground rules, enforce some safeguards. She watched Cal tuck a wisp of hair behind Ally’s ear and her own skin burned, longing for that tender touch. Libby chafed her arms and looked away.
Rule number one had to be no physical contact. Her relationship with Cal had to stay strictly hands-off.
Or she was a goner.
Chapter 4
“What can you tell me about a guy who calls himself Roach?” Libby tossed her purse in a bottom file drawer on Monday morning and gave Stan a pointed look as she scooted her chair up to her desk.
“Roach? Geez, where’d you run into him?” Stan settled in a chair across from her and bridged his fingers. When he propped one ankle on the opposite knee, his pressed khakis slid up to reveal a pair of green-blue-and-tan argyle socks.
“Long story. So you know the guy? Can you lay your hands on his file for me?”
Adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses, Stan leaned back in his seat. “Gonna tell me why you’re interested in him?”
She shrugged. “Just curious. I have reasons to want to keep an eye on him.”
“Mail call!” Libby’s assistant, Helen, stepped into the office and dropped a pile of envelopes and magazines on Libby’s desk. “‘Morning, Stanley. Good weekend?”
Stan sat straighter and tugged at his tie. “Very good. And you?”
Libby caught the intimate grin Helen sent Stan and jerked her gaze to her colleague in time to see his returned wink. Helen and Stan? She covered her smile with a little cough and began shuffling through the stack of mail.
“Helen, would you be so good as to pull the file on Lawrence White? Look in the case files from about two years ago,” Stan said.
Libby glanced up from sorting out the junk mail for the round file. “Lawrence White?”
“Roach’s brother. You helped send him to Angola a couple years ago for dealing narcotics.”
“Yeah, I remember the case.”
“So what has little brother been up to?” Stan scrunched forward on his chair and propped an arm on her desk.
“I just ran into him this weekend. Seems little brother may have taken over the family business. I’d like a good reason to pin something on him that’ll stick.” She tossed the rest of her mail down with a huff and rubbed her temples.
Stan frowned. “Hey, you okay?”
“Uh-huh. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, besides that threatening letter you showed me last week, I heard that someone followed you to your car Thursday night.”
Libby’s stomach lurched. Cal’s marriage proposal and Ally’s plight may have offered a distraction from her own problems over the weekend, but something had to be done about her stalker. Soon.
“Did you call the cops like you promised? Have you told them what happened the other night on the stairs?”
Libby scowled at Stan. “Wait a minute. You were in court all day on Friday. Where did you hear about the guy following me?”
Besides the police, no one knew about that incident except Cal and…Helen.
Stan shrugged. “Just heard it…around.”
Libby gave Helen a meaningful look.
Her assistant flushed and hurried for the next room. “I think I hear my phone.”
Clearing his throat, Stan picked at the crease in his slacks.
“If Helen told you about Thursday night—” Stan’s guilty grimace confirmed she was right “—I’m surprised she didn’t mention I was up half the night giving the police my statement. I was a zombie most of the day Friday.” She didn’t bother to tell Stan the reason she’d lost so much sleep Thursday night had more to do with Cal and his marriage proposition.
“What did the police say?”
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “The usual questions, told me to report anything new. Yada yada.”
“I don’t think you should be so blas'e about this.”
She nearly laughed. Blas'e? She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and her stomach felt permanently tied in knots. The prospect of marrying Cal didn’t help her state of mind, either.
“Do you think this Roach character is the guy who’s hassling you? Sending those letters?”
Libby shook her head. “No. At least, I don’t have any reason to think so.”
She thought of the menacing voice in the stairwell Thursday night and shuddered.
“I want you to at least have someone walk out with you to your car until this creep is caught.” Stan punctuated his demand by tapping her desk with his finger.
“You sound like a mother hen.”
“I’m a concerned friend. And I’m just talking about using a little caution.”
Libby raised her palms. “I know. You’re right. It’s just that…” Even that tiny precaution felt like giving up a piece of her independence.
After years of taking care of herself, depending on anyone else seemed a step backward. She sighed. “I won’t go out alone, Stan. I promise.”
“Good.” Stan paused and tipped his head in inquiry. “You seem…distracted. You sure you’re telling me everything about this stalker?”
Libby sighed deeply. “I’m fine. I’ve just…got a full plate.”
While she dug in her purse for an aspirin, Stan scooted aside a manila envelope with a pencil and tapped an incriminating blue one in her mail. “What have we here?”