Pregnant and Protected Page 6

  It was…sad and poignant and it said so much about the way she pushed herself, about how determined she was.

  After he’d satisfied himself that she wasn’t too easy a target for the disgruntled shareholder in her spacious town house, he stood by the phone while she called a friend to come and stay with her overnight. A couple of people were busy, and she had to make four calls. The smell of her meal cooking reached his nostrils as he waited for Corinne Alexander.

  When she arrived, Corinne seemed eager to help. She was a glamorous, wire-thin blonde, making up in effort what she lacked in natural assets.

  “This is just insane what’s happening to you, honey!” she announced.

  Daniel remembered that he’d called Lauren “honey” too, six months ago under the rubble. The sweet endearment didn’t feel right to him anymore. It felt patronizing, and he didn’t like the sound of it, coming from Lauren’s friend.

  “Totally insane!” Corinne was saying. “I’m so glad I can be here for you. And I’ll tell you about my vacation in Europe. I had the best time!”

  She wrapped Lauren in a tight hug, then turned to Daniel. “You’re with security, right? Hi!” She didn’t meet his eyes, and took no further notice of him at all. “What can I do for you, honey? Run you a bath?”

  “I’m fine, Corinne,” Lauren answered gently, as if she was soothing her. The carer, not the cared-for. “I just needed some company.”

  “Have you checked under the beds? Is your phone working?” Corinne was obviously the type who loved to be needed.

  Daniel said quietly to Lauren, “I’ll head off now, if that’s all right.”

  “It’s fine.

  “And you’ll go to your dad’s in the morning?”

  “Yes.” Her nod was sharp, decisive.

  Good. She wasn’t just humoring him, he decided, and only then did he relax and switch his thoughts to his boys.

  He was horribly late in picking up Corey and Jesse from his mother’s. He was the person who minded most about that. Mom and the boys loved each other, but he felt as if he wasn’t putting in the hours he’d like to at home. So maybe Lauren wasn’t the only one who was taunted by unattainable visions of perfect parenthood.

  “I have a very good head of personal security who could handle this assignment, John,” Daniel said, leaning forward in one of the cream leather armchairs in Lauren’s office.

  He felt his suit stretch tight across his shoulder blades. The weekend of doing children’s activities had taken the edge off his tension regarding the whole thing, but it was back again now, as he sat with Lauren and her father.

  “Since the company has grown,” he went on, “I’ve largely moved out of that area myself, so his expertise will actually be more current than mine.”

  He expected at least a few seconds’ pause for thought, but John Van Shuyler didn’t hesitate.

  “No, Daniel, I want you,” he said. The lines around his mouth deepened. Gray-haired but still trim, he had to be over seventy by now. “Consult with your personal security guy by all means, but this is personal at my daughter’s end, especially the attack on her car, and I want full personal attention from you at yours.”

  Lauren’s father spoke with the decisive speech rhythms of a businessman on a tight schedule. He’d been tied up with something else earlier in the afternoon, and the three of them had begun their meeting an hour later than scheduled.

  “All right, yes, I appreciate that, sir,” Daniel answered him.

  He flicked a glance across to Lauren and caught the almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders.

  You tried, it said.

  She looked quiet and composed this afternoon, in another pretty yet professional maternity dress of navy blue. She was clearly tired, but not shaky and angry the way she’d been on Friday night when they’d first seen her car.

  John glanced at his watch and announced, “I have another meeting to go to. Could you two work out a plan?”

  “I’ve brought some notes,” Daniel answered.

  “And I want progress reports, Lock, because my daughter can be very, very stubborn when she wants to be!”

  Weren’t both men supposed to laugh at this line? Lauren wondered.

  They didn’t and her father left the room seconds later. As soon as the door closed behind him, she felt uncomfortable. She didn’t want to be here, and Dad’s use of Daniel’s nickname hadn’t helped, with its reminder of six months ago.

  Something suddenly occurred to her.

  “Does Dad know that you were involved in the building collapse? That you were trapped with me?”

  Daniel looked at her across the open top of the briefcase he’d set on the coffee table, his dark eyes shaded by brows set in a serious line. His hair fell across his forehead. “He does now.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since he first approached me about the issue of your safety, last week. I’d managed to keep it quiet until then, but at that point, it seemed like he should know.”

  “So he’s known for days, and he’s said nothing to me!” She shook her head, disgusted. “I’m starting to get real sick of this!”

  “Sick of what?”

  “Sick of being treated like—like—”

  “Like a woman who’s had anonymous threats and violence directed at her personal property, and who is more than seven months pregnant and living alone?”

  “No! Sick of being treated like a child who doesn’t get told things that concern her because other people have decided, without her knowledge or her input, that she’s not…what? Intelligent enough? Strong enough? Emotionally fit enough?…to handle it. That’s going to stop right now, Daniel!”

  Leading with her pregnant stomach, she pulled herself up from the deep embrace of the two-seater couch with some difficulty and glared at him.

  “I’m serious,” she said. “From now on, you inform me fully of every development. Anything you hear from the police. Anything you hear from my father—since I apparently can’t trust him to tell me himself! Anything you find out and anything you plan to do. One step out of line on that, and I will no longer consider what your father owed to mine, what secrets and connections we exchanged beneath that rubble, or anything else. You’ll be…what is it TV cops say?…off the case!”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” he murmured.

  She glared at him again. “I mean it!”

  “And so do I. It’s good to know.”

  “Why?” She still didn’t trust him.

  “Because it’s information I need. Point one. You’re not running scared. You’ve got enough fight in you to care about how this is handled. Point two, you want full information and full consultation every step of the way. Not everyone does, you know. Point three—”

  He stopped. His expression changed.

  She waited for a moment, then prompted, “Yes? What’s point three?”

  “Point three. What’s the time?” He looked at his watch, which was quite plain, with a tarnished metal band. She guessed it had probably belonged to his late father. “A quarter till six. I’m supposed to pick up my kids, but we still have a lot to get through. Could we do it over dinner?”

  “Out? With your boys?”

  “No, it would work better at my place. We’ll pick up pizza. I’m sorry, I know it’s not ideal, but I’m going to be putting in extra hours with you over the next week at least, and I kind of—”

  “That’s fine,” she said quickly. “I understand. No problem.”

  He had a look on his face that she hadn’t seen before, and she realized that even if Lock and his wife hadn’t been happy, he truly loved his kids.

  In the emotionally fraught time they’d spent together, she hadn’t thought much about how he would be as a father, and suddenly she wanted to know. She was thinking a lot about parenthood at the moment, looking for guidance from any source she could find.

  “You don’t have to explain,” she went on. “Of course you don’t want to short-change your kids. Pizza
at your place is fine. We don’t want to rush through this, do we? Since we’re doing it, we’ll do it properly.”

  That was how she felt about the baby, although apparently Ben didn’t share her attitude. The last time they’d spoken, he’d said he had “lawyers and people working on it,” as if being a father was something you could hand over to the appropriate professionals.

  It hurt.

  She hadn’t let it defeat her. In fact, she’d toughened up over the past couple of months, ready to be a mother and a father to this new life inside her. She’d hired some lawyers herself, in case she had a custody claim to deal with, down the road.

  But underneath, Ben’s deep betrayal of herself and their child hurt. How could she have been so wrong about him?

  “Did you drive yourself here today?” Daniel asked, cutting across her train of thought.

  “No, I took a cab.” She met his newly alert glance and flushed. “Yes, okay, I was nervous about the parking garage. Was that wrong?”

  “No, not at all. Nerves aside, it was the right instinct. No matter how cool you are about this, I don’t imagine you want to get ambushed by some angry, out-of-control shareholder demanding a payout.”

  She looked at him, saw his narrowed eyes and the severe set of his mouth. The look emphasized the strength of his bone structure and the solid jut of his jaw.

  “I knew nothing about Ben’s business activities,” she told him, “nor about his plan to flee the country when his company’s checks started bouncing. You believe that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do! I’ll check into Ben’s business and personal affairs as soon as I can, in search of leads as to who could be behind this. I didn’t expect you to have a list of suspects on hand, nor to investigate the matter yourself. You’ve been caught in the middle of this, and you’re pregnant, and you’re obviously not at all confident about—” He stopped, then continued, “Actually, I think you’ve shown a lot of courage. Let’s go, shall we?”

  She would have liked to have seen his face at that moment, but he’d already picked up his briefcase and turned toward the door. Even more, she’d have liked to hear the end of that unfinished sentence. What did he think he’d learned about her state of mind? Where did he think she lacked confidence?

  Apparently, despite her insistence on openness, it wasn’t something he intended to share.

  Jesse and Corey were adorable.

  At his mother’s house, Daniel’s boys greeted him with big, open hugs after he’d scooped them up and propped one on each arm. As Daniel was in and out in the space of a few minutes, Lauren didn’t get more than a brief impression of Margaret Lachlan. Chunky thighs in comfortable stretch pants, short gray hair, worn-away lipstick, rolled sleeves and lots of laugh lines.

  Daniel introduced her as, “A client. John Van Shuyler’s daughter, remember?”

  Mrs. Lachlan nodded and smiled, taking Lauren’s hands in hers. “My husband looked up to your father so much. They should have kept in closer contact, then we’d have been friends long before this. I’m sorry you’re having such a difficult time right now.”

  “Having Daniel involved will help enormously,” Lauren told her. Politeness, really. The kind of thing you had to say. As she spoke the words, however, they felt good. True.

  In the car the boys sang for the first fifteen minutes, then pointed out every truck and bus and ambulance that went past for the rest of the trip. Lauren listened and nodded and said, “Uh-huh,” and wondered whether she was talking to them in the right way. She hadn’t had much to do with kids at all and wished there was a course for her to take, to make up for it.

  When Daniel returned to the vehicle with two hot cardboard boxes, Corey and Jesse said, “Pizza, yeah!” and clapped their little hands together, and Lauren couldn’t help turning to the backseat to watch them. They had the bluest eyes, the silkiest curly hair, light brown with streaks of blond and the most delightfully joyous laughter. They looked happy and well-fed and loved. Just loved.

  The attractive suburban house was a mess. Lauren was a little shocked at first. What about safety? What about hygiene? She stood stiffly in the middle of the lounge room, rubbing her tired back, while the boys immediately dropped to their knees to play. Daniel took off his suit jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves and got busy in the kitchen.

  Surely you couldn’t bring up children in this casual way!

  But then she looked a little more closely and discovered childproof locks on many of the closets and drawers, bubblewrap padding on sharp corners of furniture and an absence of actual filth that reassured her. Actually, the mess was kind of nice, she decided cautiously, and it was made of nothing more sinister than spread-out toys and unfolded clothes fresh from the dryer, colorful scribbled drawings and piles of household papers.

  Daniel ducked into the room and must have read her expression.

  “Sorry.” He waved his hand. “It’s a bomb site, isn’t it? Some days, I don’t get to clean up. Some weeks, I guess.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Clean up? Heck, no!”

  He strode back into the kitchen and she followed him. “I meant…with the pizza.”

  “What’s there to do? Just sit!” He slid the pizza boxes onto the table in a cozy dining nook, grabbed plates and glasses and napkins, swung the boys beneath his arms, one at a time, like footballs, and washed their hands and faces at the kitchen sink. Within two minutes, he had them strapped into their high chairs and they were all ready to eat.

  During all this, Lauren just sat there and watched. There wasn’t time or opportunity to offer her help, and he seemed to be so good at this, and so casual about it.

  She was impressed. Jealous, even. She was already apprehensive about how she’d handle a baby on her own, was still grappling with issues like child care and role models. At least she had the practical stuff—the nursery, the paraphernalia—fully organized, which made her feel as if she was a couple of steps ahead, on top of things.

  And she’d read about a dozen books on the whole subject. To be honest, however, she’d emerged from those feeling overwhelmed with information and anything but relaxed. So far, Daniel made it look easy.

  “You don’t have a housekeeper?” she asked. He could afford it, she knew. His company was doing very well, and this modern house, although not huge, was solidly built and well furnished.

  “I tried that,” he answered. “I didn’t like it. Felt like an invasion of privacy.”

  “Gee, why do I know how that feels?”

  He ignored the rebellious line and went on, “I prefer the mess. We have one of those superefficient cleaning services, in and out in an hour, once a week, to minimize dust bunnies and actual germs, and apart from that it’s just us three guys, living the way we like.”

  “Three guys, huh?”

  “Yeah, so you know it’s only going to get worse as the years go by.” He grinned at her. “Here, have a slice.”

  She took one and said carefully—no, be honest, primly— “Isn’t there a case for, um, setting them a good example, though? You know, taking care of your own property, showing respect for other people’s space.”

  He looked at her, his mouth tucked in at the corners. “Which book is that in?”

  “Um, I can’t remember.” She flushed a little beneath his amused gaze. “But how did you know I got it from—?”

  “I saw the stack by your bed the other night.”

  “Right.” Well, admittedly, the stack was hard to miss. “Are there any that you would particularly recommend?”

  “Not until I’d read some of them.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You haven’t read any? You must have!” She was genuinely shocked, both at the fact of it and at his casual attitude.

  “I tried a couple after Becky died,” he conceded.

  And he’d dropped the look of benign amusement, thank goodness. She took a large, absentminded mouthful of pizza and propped her chin on her free hand, ready to listen and learn.


  “Had them beside the bed, just like you do. Two chapters of one, three chapters of another, and it was like a horror novel. I lay awake all night. Sweating, remorseful, confused and convinced I’d already blown it totally.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I’m exaggerating,” he said. “But seriously, in the end I decided that people with my vivid imagination and professional talent for envisaging worst-case scenarios should stay away from child care books purely out of self-preservation. Now I fly by the seat of my pants. I’m a lot happier and so are they.”

  “Do you know that? That they’re happier?”

  She frowned at him and took another bite of pizza. The two boys had tomato sauce smeared all around their mouths, puddles of sweet, fizzy liquid spilled on their high-chair trays and cheeks fat with cheese and chewy dough. This was the meal from hell, according to her latest nutritional bible. Salt and fat oozing from every mouthful, and hardly a vitamin in sight. But for once she didn’t let it bother her. It tasted so good!

  “Well, I guess we could do a controlled experiment,” Daniel said. “Separate them for three months, handle one according to the theories of Expert A and the other according to the theories of plain old me and see which of them then scores highest on a battery of personality and intelligence tests.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Yes. I’m joking.”

  “And you think I’m neurotic, obviously.”

  He leaned forward, reached across the table, touched the hand that still curved beneath her chin. The caress was light, brief and almost, yes, fatherly, but it sent a ripple of remembered awareness in a warm wave all down her arm. Her breath went jerky for several seconds.

  “You’re not neurotic,” he said, capturing her frowning gaze with a steady look. “You’re in a difficult situation, and this is the way you’ve reacted. Tell me, is that in character for you? To overcompensate?”