Jack's guts knotted painfully. The very thought that a man would raise a hand to a woman, let alone beat her, enraged Jack. God help him, if he could get his hands on Buck Forbes right this minute, he might kill him. He knew he'd sure like to give the sorry bastard a taste of what he'd given Peggy Jo. The man had actually hit his pregnant wife!
"You lost a child because of—"
"I was four months pregnant. I came home fifteen minutes late from my job as a receptionist, and he accused me of cheating on him with my boss. The accusation was ridiculous, of course, but that didn't matter. He beat me until I was unconscious. I woke up several hours later in the hospital. I'd suffered a miscarriage."
"God, honey, I'm sorry." Jack's hand reached for her in the semidarkness inside her car, but the moment he touched her, she cringed. He removed his hand instantly. He'd read in his file on her about the miscarriage, but hadn't known it was a result of her husband's brutality.
"I had put up with his cruelty for over three years. But after that night, I went to a shelter for abused women and I filed for a divorce."
"All men aren't like Buck Forbes." Jack felt the need to defend his sex, to convince her that most men weren't savage animals.
"I'm well aware of the fact that there are a lot of good, kind, loyal and loving men in the world. I just didn't happen to have one of them for a father or a husband."
Before Jack could respond, she pulled the Chrysler Sebring into the driveway of a large Craftsman-style house. The old house had a real sense of hominess to it, as if it had been built to accommodate a large family. He had noticed that the neighborhood, which was in the Riverview area, was comprised of both large and small houses, some neatly remodeled and others still in need of repair. His information on her residence stated that she lived in an older section of the city that was part of a mass renovation project.
Peggy Jo turned to face Jack. "Before we go inside, we need to go over a few ground rules."
"Shoot." Jack studied her face by the soft light of the nearby streetlight. An odd little spasm tightened inside him and he wondered at the cause.
"You're a guest in my home, a temporary visitor." She paused as if uncertain how to explain. "You'll be treated with hospitality, of course, but … don't try to ingratiate yourself to my housekeeper, Hetty, or to my daughter."
Jack stared at her, puzzled by her statement. "I'm afraid you've lost me. In what way do you want me not to ingratiate myself to your housekeeper or your daughter? Are you saying don't be charming, don't make friends?"
"Exactly—don't make friends. You're a transitory fixture in our lives, and I don't want Hetty trying to make something personal out of a relationship that is strictly business. And I certainly don't want Wendy becoming attached to you in any way."
Realization dawned. "Ah. I understand. You don't want me playing daddy to your daughter. And you don't want the housekeeper trying to play matchmaker for us." Jack chuckled. Lordy. Lordy. He'd known some uptight women in his life, but Miss Peggy Jo sure did take the cake. Not only was she cautious and afraid for herself, but for her child, too. Poor little girl. And to be honest, he wasn't sure whether he was referring to Wendy Riley or her mother.
"Just do the job you've been hired to do and keep your Southern charm to yourself." With that said, Peggy Jo opened her car door, got out and rounded the hood.
Jack followed quickly, up the steps and onto the large wraparound porch. Before they reached the front door, it opened to reveal a stout, gray-haired woman standing just inside the foyer.
"Come on in, you two," the housekeeper said, smiling broadly. "It's getting cold out there." She ushered them inside hurriedly, then held out her hand. "Let me take your jacket and hat, Mr. Parker."
So, this was Hetty, Jack thought. A motherly type. Round and cheerful and fussing over them like a mother hen.
He handed her his denim jacket and black Stetson. "Thank you, ma'am."
Her smile widened until it reached from ear to ear, deepening the faint lines around her brown eyes and in her rosy cheeks. "You can call me Hetty. I'm the housekeeper and nanny around here, but Peggy Jo will tell you that we're all family in this house."
"Nice to meet you, Hetty." Jack offered her his hand. "You can call me Jack."
Hetty hung his coat and hat on the ornate oak hall tree, then took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "I'm sure glad to meet you, young fella. We're glad to have you with us. I've been telling Peggy Jo for months now that her crazy admirer wasn't going away and what we needed—what she needed—was a man around here."
"Well, Hetty, I'm your man." Jack winked at her.
Hetty giggled. "My, my, I like you already."
"If you two are finished with your mutual admiration society meeting…" Peggy Jo said with a look of exasperation.
"Oh, just ignore her," Hetty said. "Come on in and meet the real boss around here."
Peggy Jo sighed, then asked, "Where is Wendy?"
"She's eating supper in the kitchen," Hetty replied.
"Why is she eating now? She knew I'd be home in time for us to eat together."
Hetty smiled, then glanced over at Jack. "Wendy had me set up things in the dining room for you and our guest, so the two of you could have supper together."
"What!" Peggy Jo's eyes narrowed to slits as she frowned.
"Don't go fussing at her," Hetty said. "She can't help being excited. It's the first time her mama has brought a man home with her."
"This is ridiculous. I told her plainly that Mr. Parker is an employee, hired by me to … to watch over me." Peggy Jo marched through the living room and into the dining room.
As Jack and Hetty followed, Hetty said, "You should know, for future reference, that her bark is much worse than her bite."
"Yeah, I figured as much," Jack replied. "But she sure does have a mighty fierce bark, doesn't she?"
"Candles!" Peggy Jo shrieked. "Soft lighting, our best china, crystal and silver. Hetty Ballard, what sort of nonsense have you been putting in Wendy's head about Mr. Parker and me?"
Nonplussed by the accusation against her, Hetty plopped a wide, meaty hand on her hip. "You're accusing me unjustly. I've kept my mouth shut the whole livelong day. Wendy came up with this idea all on her own. And don't you dare scold her, and I mean it. She thinks we've done something really special for you, and she can keep on thinking that if you don't spoil this for her."
"But I can't let her think that there's anything romantic going on between Mr. Parker and me," Peggy Jo said. "I thought she understood last night when I explained the situation to her."
"She's a six-year-old who doesn't have a daddy, and no matter what you tell her about Mr. Parker—" Hetty grinned "—about Jack, she's going to hope…"
"I'll have to speak with her again." Peggy Jo headed for the kitchen. "We can't have her dreaming up some romance—"
Hetty grabbed Peggy Jo's arm, halting her. "Don't spoil this for her. Not tonight. Save your talk for tomorrow. One day can't hurt."
Jack could tell that Peggy Jo was mulling the matter over in her mind, going through a battle trying to decide. Maybe he should step in and handle this situation.
"How about letting me talk to Wendy?" Jack suggested. "After you and I enjoy dinner by candlelight."
Peggy Jo sighed; her shoulders drooped in defeat. "All right. I'll wait until after dinner. But, Mr. Parker, I will explain your presence in our lives, in our home, to Wendy. Not you."
* * *
If Hetty hadn't become like a member of the family these past six years, Peggy Jo would fire her. Ever since Wendy started asking why she didn't have a daddy, Hetty had spurred the child on in her requests for a father. And Hetty knew good and well that she never intended to remarry.
"Come on out to the kitchen and meet my daughter," Peggy Jo said to Jack Parker, then glanced at Hetty. "Go ahead and serve dinner for us here in the dining room. But only tonight. If in the future Wendy comes up with any more nonsense like this, you're not to encourage her."
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Peggy Jo couldn't be truly angry with her daughter. She understood how much a father meant to a little girl—and to a big girl, too. Sometimes she felt guilty that she wasn't able to give Wendy something as important as a father. To this day she missed her own father almost as much as she missed her mother. One of the most difficult things she had coped with in the therapy sessions she'd had during her time at the shelter and for years afterward, had been accepting the fact that although her father had still been alive during her difficult marriage, he hadn't been able to be a real part of her life.
The moment she entered the kitchen, Wendy jumped up and came barreling toward Peggy Jo, then lifted her arms and cried out, "Mommy, you're home!"
Peggy Jo picked up the fifty pounds of adorable mischief, who immediately straddled her legs around Peggy Jo's waist. The two exchanged a big bear hug, then Wendy giggled as she stared at the man who came through the doorway directly behind Hetty.
"Are you the man who's going to look after my mommy?" Wendy asked, squirming to be put down.
Peggy Jo obliged her by setting her back in the chair at the table. "This is Mr. Parker, the gentleman I told you I'd hired. He's going to be our guest for a while." Peggy Jo pointed to the plate of food in front of Wendy. "Now that you've met him, you can finish your supper and then one hour of TV before your bath."
"Hey, there, Mr. Parker." Wendy lifted her fork, but she didn't take her eyes off Jack.
"Howdy, there, Miss Wendy." He came forward, crouched to his haunches and shook hands with Wendy. "It's mighty nice to meet you."
"You know what—you talk like a cowboy." Wendy hunched her shoulders and covered her mouth to smother a giggle.
Jack petted her under the chin, which made her giggle more. "Well, little darling, that's because I am a cowboy. Born and raised in Texas on my daddy's ranch."
"You've got a daddy? Does he still live on his ranch?"
Peggy Jo noticed a flicker of something in Jack's eyes, a momentary sadness mixed with something else. But the emotion lingered for no more than a flash. If she hadn't been staring right at him, she would have missed the instant reaction to the mention of his father.
"Wendy, you're being much too personal," Peggy Jo said. "Mind your manners."
Jack smiled at Wendy. "It's okay, darling, you didn't say anything wrong. The answer is yes, I had a daddy, but he died when I was thirteen."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Enough talk, missy," Hetty said. "You finish off your pot roast, and as soon as I serve your mama and Mr. Park— Jack their supper in the dining room, I'll cut you a piece of my jam cake."
"Jam cake?" Jack rose to his feet and drew in a deep breath as if smelling the aroma of the special dessert.
"Made from scratch. My own dear mama's recipe," Hetty said.
"I think I've died and gone to heaven." Jack sighed dramatically. "Living in the house with three beautiful ladies and having jam cake on my first night here."
Wendy and Hetty both cooed, like captivated fools. Jack Parker was a charmer all right. A snake charmer! He might have the other two "beautiful ladies" eating out of his hand before nightfall, but he didn't impress her one bit. However, Peggy Jo reluctantly admitted that she'd have to be on guard. She had a sneaky feeling that Jack's Texas sweet-talk had a way of wearing down a woman's resistance, judging by the heat she felt inside her body. Heat that had nothing to do with her temper, she realized.
* * *
After dinner alone together in the candlelit dining room, Peggy Jo showed Jack upstairs. The food was the best he'd eaten in years. Hetty sure was a good cook. But the company had left a great deal to be desired. No matter how hard he tried to be captivating and witty, his efforts failed with Miss Peggy Jo. She was determined to remain unaffected by the charisma that had lured many a good ole gal straight into his arms. Of course, he didn't want this particular gal in his arms. All he wanted was to make his job a little easier by putting her at ease around him. Undoubtedly, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Peggy Jo Riley had constructed a ten-foot barbed-wire fence around herself, and only a fool would try trespassing. And Jack was nobody's fool.
As he followed her upstairs, he heard the sound of childish laughter and splashing water. Hetty was probably giving Wendy her bath. Peggy Jo led him down the hall and into a large, neatly decorated room that had been painted an odd shade of brown. Sort of a reddish brown. The heavy wooden furniture appeared to be antique. Either that or really good reproduction pieces. He strolled in and took a good look around. He liked it just fine.
"This room has its own bath through there." She pointed to the closed door on the right. "There's a small TV in the armoire and a phone on the nightstand. And once you bring in your suitcase, feel free to use the closet and the empty top drawer in the dresser for your things."
"Thank you, ma'am. I didn't bring much. Just some underwear, socks, pajama bottoms, a couple of shirts and jeans. I travel light and I'm not much for dressing up. But if you'd prefer that I wear a sport coat, I can—"
"How you dress is of no concern to me." Peggy Jo stood tensely just inside the room. "Please, if you need anything, just let Hetty know."
When she turned to leave, Jack caught up with her before she crossed the threshold. "Wait up."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Yes?"
"Where's your bedroom?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Don't go getting yourself in a tizzy." He hated that defensive expression on her face, the tense way she stood there, as if she were halfway afraid of him. Hell! He had put the fear of God into quite a few men, but never a woman. "I'm your bodyguard, remember. I'm here to protect you. If I'm to do my job the right way, I need to know certain things about this house and about your routine at home."
As she sighed quietly, her shoulders relaxed. "Yes, of course. My bedroom is directly across the hall. Wendy's bedroom is to your left, and Hetty's room is next to Wendy's."
"Thanks."
"Will that be all?"
"I notice you have a security system. I'll need to know the codes."
"Certainly. The password is sunshine. And the code is 1720."
"Okay," Jack said. "After I get settled in, I'll need to ask you a few more questions."
"By all means."
She turned and sashayed across the hall and into her own room. What was it about her? Jack wondered. He'd seen women a lot better looking and most certainly with more appealing personalities, yet he found Peggy Jo intriguing. Was it because he saw her as a challenge? That had to be it. He sure wasn't interested in her personally. He preferred his women a little less cool and defensive.
And apparently Miss Peggy Jo preferred her men—perhaps all men—to be kept at arm's length.
* * *
The evening had passed fairly uneventfully, for which she was grateful. Wendy had been a little too mesmerized by Mr. Parker, and Hetty had been a little too solicitous. And Jack, as both Hetty and Wendy were calling him, had made himself a little too much at home to suit her. By the time he helped Peggy Jo tuck Wendy into bed, he was acting as if he were the man of the house. No doubt, Jack Parker was the type who simply took over, regardless of where he was.
As they left Wendy's room, Jack placed his open palm across the small of Peggy Jo's back. His hand was big and warm. And even such an innocent touch disturbed her greatly. She didn't like to be touched. Not by men. And most definitely not by a large, rugged guy who towered over her by nearly nine inches. She rushed ahead of him in order to free herself from that massive hand.
Pausing in the doorway of her room, she waited for him, knowing that they had yet to finish up with their question-and-answer session.
"Do you want to go back downstairs?" he asked as he approached her.
"Not really. Hetty will close up. I'm tired and I'd like to take a long, hot bath and go to bed early."
"Mmm-hmm. Why don't you take that bath while I check things out downstairs and have a look around outside? I'll lock up and arm the sec
urity system. Whatever other questions I have can wait until morning."
"Thanks." She took several steps inside her room, then paused and turned around to face him. "Despite my reservations about having a male bodyguard living here in the house, I am glad that you're here. I'll sleep better tonight knowing you're close by. But I haven't changed my mind about replacing you with a female bodyguard as soon as one is available."
"I didn't think you'd changed your mind," Jack said. "But I'll bet if you took a vote, Wendy and Hetty would vote to keep me."
"Wendy and Hetty don't have votes on this issue."
"Pity."
Jack turned and walked off, leaving her standing there staring at his back. As he descended the split staircase, he started whistling. He'd bet money that Miss Peggy Jo was still watching him. He could practically feel her heated glare boring into his back.
Just as he reached the foot of the stairs, the telephone rang. He stood still and waited for someone to answer it. The ringing stopped. He headed down the hallway toward the foyer. Suddenly he heard Peggy Jo's voice calling him.
"Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker?"
He heard a sense of urgency in her voice. Damn, what was wrong? Before he reached the stairs, she called out again.
"Mr. Parker? Jack!"
He ran to the stairs, then took them two at a time. Peggy Jo met him on the landing where the staircase divided. She all but rushed into his arms. He reached out to steady her as their bodies collided.
Grabbing her shoulders, he said, "What is it? Are you all right?"
"It was him. On the phone."
"Damn!"
"He said … he said for me to look on the back porch, that he'd left a present there for me."
Jack felt her trembling, so without giving a thought to his actions, he pulled her into his arms to comfort her. And for just a moment she stayed there in the safety of his embrace, as if she truly liked the feel of his arms around her. But suddenly, when she realized what she was doing, Peggy Jo eased away from him, putting a foot of space between them.
JACK'S CHRISTMAS MISSION Page 4