“No. We didn’t get that far.”
“How long did you see her?”
“A few months.” Long enough for him to contemplate something more lasting. The thought of having a family, one full of love and laughter, had enchanted him. It had also seemed too good to be true. As it turned out, it had been. She’d revealed herself to be artificial. She needed thrills. Excitement. In hindsight, that was why she’d become an FBI agent. She’d never be the type to slow down.
“I know you said you wanted a family, but did you ever really see yourself settling down and raising a family?” she asked. “Or did you become an agent to devote your life to catching criminals like your father?”
He had thought about settling down. Yes. Except he’d never planned on when. Maybe some part of him did second-guess his ability to parent. Maybe that was why he’d rushed into marriage with Jocelyn. He knew if he thought on it too long, he’d hesitate and not follow through.
“Movers are here.”
Through the front windows, Trevor saw the truck pull to a stop in front of the building. Good. He’d have plenty to get his mind off what Jocelyn had put to seed in his head. And then she shot down that glimmer of hope.
“Let’s go out for dinner.”
* * *
While the movers—who were part of the team working the case—set up the real estate office, Jocelyn insisted they grab a late dinner. Why not start the sting operation now? Trevor had fought her, wanting to help the movers set things up. She sensed his reason wasn’t so Samaritan, especially when she dressed for her part as bait. Tight jeans, cowboy boots and a sexy low-cut top complemented her made-up face. Jealousy would intensify Regina’s reaction to her rudeness. And Jocelyn would enjoy pushing Trevor with his idea of marriage for the sake of their baby and not love.
Ever since the team had agreed to let her pose as bait, he’d fallen into moments of distant, pensive thought. She suspected he had doubts over his decision—not over supporting their child. She didn’t doubt he’d always do that, but marriage in general. Maybe he was in shock over the realization that he was, in fact, married. That he was, in fact, going to be a father. He’d been so determined to seal the deal, though. Why did he second-guess himself?
Jocelyn swayed her hips with a little more verve than usual as she entered Blackthorn County All Night Diner. Her jeans had beads on the back pockets and flared just enough at her ankles. Trevor held the door for her, and his gaze didn’t miss her hips. When he lifted reproachful eyes to hers, she winked at him.
Inside, she scanned the diner, picking out the restaurant staff. Most were women. Young and older. Two blondes, a dark-haired woman and a redhead. The dark-haired woman could be Regina. She resembled the photos they had of her.
The dark-haired woman waited on a booth next to a vacant one.
“Can we sit over there?” Jocelyn asked the hostess.
“Of course.”
Seated at the booth, Jocelyn patted the space next to her, stopping Trevor from sitting across from her.
“Newlyweds sit next to each other,” she said.
He sat with another reproachful look and then picked up the menu. “I’m actually really hungry.”
She was, too. She leaned close and read the menu with him.
He turned his head.
She smiled at him, putting on her best smitten face. “People will think you don’t love me if you keep doing that.”
Abandoning the menu, he touched her under her chin and shocked her by kissing her. Soft, smooth, he moved over her lips like an expert lover. When he drew away, she had to catch her breath.
“That should dispel any doubt,” he said in a raspy tone.
He wasn’t immune to their chemistry. She had that, at least.
The waitress approached with a slight smile as she noticed their exchange. Jocelyn didn’t see any animosity, but a serial killer could mask how they truly felt.
“My dad and brother took me hunting with them. And when we went to the amusement park, they took me on all the scary rides. You know the one that drops straight down from way high up?” She laughed with the memory. “They had to talk me into going on rides like that and soothe me if I cried, but by the time I was a tween, I wasn’t afraid of anything.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“You wouldn’t, Mr. Overprotector.” She leaned in close and rested her head on his shoulder for a second, just to make it look good to anyone watching, flaunting her left ring finger.
“What can I get you two?” the waitress asked with a hint of laughter in her tone, pen ready over a notepad.
“I’ll have your cheeseburger, but it has to be cooked well and I want the top bun on the side—and make my fries crispy,” Jocelyn said.
“I’ll have the same, medium-well. Don’t worry about where you put my bun.” He turned with an affectionate look at Jocelyn.
The waitress eyed Jocelyn with less affinity but said, “And to drink?”
“Water. No ice.”
“Iced tea. Ice is fine.” Trevor handed her the menus.
The waitress smiled at Trevor and took the menus. Then she turned and went to put their order in.
“What do you think?” Jocelyn said. “Is it her?”
“I’m not sure. She resembles the photos, but her hair is a little dark. In the pictures she’s more of a dirty-water hair color.”
“Dirty water can be black.”
“Mousy brown, then.”
“Are you trying to be mean?” Why not? Regina had likely killed all those other women. All the way up to the letter I. J was next, which explained a lot of Trevor’s overprotectiveness. But not all of it.
“I have anger issues over someone copying my father’s method of killing,” he said.
Although he sounded sarcastic, he must really have issues over that. Seeing the waitress return to check on the table next to them, Jocelyn said to Trevor, “I’m sorry, honey.” She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I never want to upset my lover, my one and only, my true love.”
Trevor fell into his role. “You didn’t, my love. Nothing you say upsets me. I love you.”
“Aww.” She put her head on his shoulder. “I love you, too.”
The waitress moved to their table next, holding a tray of drinks. She put down the iced tea and the water—no ice.
Jocelyn sipped as the waitress began to turn. The water was cool.
“Wait a minute,” she called to the waitress.
The woman turned, wary over her tone.
“Why do you think I asked for no ice?” Jocelyn asked harshly.
“Uh... I’m sorry. Is something wrong with your water?” She reached for the glass, distressed over an unhappy customer—or pretending to be. Jocelyn couldn’t tell.
“Ice makes the water cold,” Jocelyn spat. “This water is cold.”
“Oh. Goodness. I’ll get you another.” The waitress took the glass and hurried to comply.
“Would Regina have reacted that way?” she asked when the waitress was far enough away.
“Let’s see what she does when she comes back.”
They didn’t have to wait long. The waitress quickly returned with a new glass of water.
Jocelyn sipped while the waitress wrung her hands and watched. The water was room temperature.
“That’s perfect. Thank you.”
The waitress visibly relaxed. “Good. I’ll bring your food right out.”
“I don’t think it’s her,” Trevor said. “She’s too worried about pleasing you.” He turned to her. “You’re playing a really good mean lady, by the way. I’m almost embarrassed to be with you.”
Jocelyn couldn’t repress a laugh. “We need to be sure. Do you think she’s wearing a wig?”
&nb
sp; “I don’t know. You could pull her hair to see. Get into a cat fight.” He had his elbow on the table, looking over at her in playful sexiness.
“Why do cats get such a bad rap with that?” she asked. “Sigmund doesn’t get into fights.”
“Some cats do. Your cat is more like a dog. He likes to be petted. Does he come when he’s called?”
“No. He’s his own entity.”
He grinned. “He takes after you.”
“He’s my family.” She leaned back with a soft smile, missing her cat. She’d arranged for her neighbor to take care of him while they did this sting.
She and Trevor hadn’t had time to talk about where they’d live now that they were married. She liked her condo and Sigmund was accustomed to living there. She didn’t want to uproot him. Well, maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about that for much longer. This marriage wouldn’t last if she and Trevor didn’t have real feelings for each other.
Would Trevor ever have feelings for her? Would she have feelings for him? She feared she already did. She remembered the first time she met him. Her first day on the job. He’d been in his office, wearing a suit and tie, the black straps of his gun holster and the shiny gold of his badge clipped to his belt making him look like a secret agent. His dark, sexy eyes and hair. He’d had faint signs of stubble growing on his so, so handsome face. She’d stared and gotten all hot just seeing him. The way he moved, a saunter, a confident one, a strong one. Oh. She felt the same pitter-patter of attraction as she had then.
And then he’d spoken in that deep voice, totally professional and giving no sign he’d felt anything in return for her.
She’d closed off her reaction to meeting the man of her dreams, at least physically. From that day on she’d had to smother her attraction. But every once in a while a glimmer of something would emerge. A look. A change in his tone. The touch of his hand on her lower back.
But she could never be sure if he felt anything toward her, not until they’d tumbled into bed almost a month ago. Then all the hotness he’d unleashed in her at first sight exploded.
He’d reverted right back to professionalism afterward, having that talk with her. Even after they’d gotten married, he still reverted back to that professional act.
It had to be an act. And Jocelyn had a burning need to know why. What made him do that?
“What was it like growing up in a foster home?” she asked, having a hunch all of his issues stemmed from that. “I know it must have been awful after you found out what your father did. You don’t have to get into that. But what was it like? Were your foster parents good to you?”
He shrugged. “They were good to me, but they were strangers.”
And he’d been alone. All of his brothers and sisters had gone to different homes.
“I didn’t have long to wait to leave, either. As soon as I graduated from high school, I went to college.”
Jocelyn pondered how to ask what she really needed to know. He must have felt lost as a teenager. What family he’d known had been torn apart.
“I also started tracking down my brothers and sisters. By the way, Josie said she told them we were together. We’re going to have to tell them we’re married and are going to have a baby.”
He seemed to dread that. Again, his actions contradicted the man.
“Trevor, why did you marry me if you don’t want to be married?”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“For the baby. Yeah, that’s an excuse.” She needed him to be honest right now. “If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, would you ever have gotten married?”
After meeting her face and what her eyes must convey—imploring for him to tell her—he stared off across the restaurant. He couldn’t answer right away. He must not have given it much thought. Yet another red flag as far as Jocelyn was concerned. Who didn’t think about getting married? The oldest son of a serial killer?
At last he faced her again. “I might have married Christy.”
Christy. “The agent you slept with?”
“It was more than that.”
How much had she meant to him? Or had he walled his heart off with her as Jocelyn sensed he’d begun to do with her?
“Did you love her?” she asked.
“No. I thought I did. Maybe I would have fallen in love with her. She didn’t give me the chance to find out.”
His honesty came as a wave of freshness. “Do you ever see yourself getting married, Trevor?”
He grinned. “I married you.”
He tried to hide his feelings with that grin. Humor from an otherwise serious man. But Jocelyn would not be deterred. “No, you didn’t. You married the mother of your child.” Her earlier assessment hung like heavy fog. He held back in love and the cause of his rebellion at fourteen had caused it.
“Why are you afraid of ending up like your father?” she asked.
“I’m not a serial killer. And I’ve thought about what you said before. I’m not afraid of being a father. Of course I want to be a good father, but it’s more than that. I want to be a good husband, too. I want to make a good family.”
That sounded like a step in the right direction—in the direction Jocelyn wanted to go. “Do you doubt you’re capable?”
“I don’t even know what a good family is. I’ve never had one. I’ve seen other families, but what are they like when no one else is around? Are they like mine?”
His family hadn’t always been separated. When he was young, surely he had to have had some kind of exposure to what made a family work.
“I didn’t have a close relationship with my father,” he said as though reading her thoughts. “But I do think he did love my mother. I remember them together. Up until the end, they got along well. I just don’t remember much interaction from my father. He worked and came home for dinner most nights. Except when he was out killing men who reminded him of my uncle Big J Colton.”
Then he had learned something from seeing his parents together when they were in love. Trevor was a gentle lover. He treated women with respect and kindness. Fatherhood and family would come naturally to him. But he didn’t believe that.
Jocelyn’s reticence over this fake marriage intensified. He didn’t believe they’d make it as a family. He didn’t believe he had what it took to give his child a loving home. He didn’t believe he’d ever love her.
Feeling his hand on her forearm, Jocelyn realized she’d looked off across the restaurant with those despondent thoughts.
“I haven’t given up on this marriage, Jocelyn. We have something between us. While I hope it grows into more, I do worry about what kind of message I’ll send my son or daughter if we don’t fall in love. Maybe my father has tainted my confidence. Sometimes I wonder if the good memories I have are based on a lie, and being a dad scares me.” He touched her chin as he had before. “But I want what you want, Jocelyn. I want a family. I want us to work. For real.”
She melted on the inside. He did care. She did mean something to him. And she believed him.
When he kissed her this time, she lost awareness of everything but him. She felt his caring all the way through her. It rang with truth.
She moved back when the waitress arrived with their food. Jocelyn had to shake herself free of the drugging effect of Trevor’s kiss—and his words.
I want us to work. For real...
She saw the waitress eyeing her warily but Trevor with a tiny smile. She’d seen him kiss her again. Had Trevor done it on purpose?
That kiss had not felt staged. Even if he’d planned for it to seem that way, he must have felt it as much as she had.
Back to acting her part as a terrible patron.
“That took way too long,” Jocelyn said to the waitress. “What did you do back there? Kill the cow? This burger is probably too cold now.” W
ith jerky movements, Jocelyn used her knife to cut into it.
The waitress wrung her hands again, nervous and apprehensive.
Jocelyn slammed the knife and fork down. “This is medium-well. I asked for well-done. Take this crap away from me.” She shoved the plate down the table.
Other diners turned their heads in their direction.
“Ma’am, I—”
“What’s the matter with you?” She shot daggers at the woman with her eyes, wondering if she was overdoing this. Maybe she should have tried to become an actress instead of an FBI agent. “Don’t you know how to do your job? Waitressing isn’t that difficult. Get rid of this gross food and bring me what I asked for.”
Tears sprang to the woman’s eyes. Jocelyn saw, instantly horrified. With a sob, the waitress ran toward the back of the restaurant.
“Oh my God.” Jocelyn stood, feeling terrible that she’d obviously upset the wrong woman. Regina would not have burst into tears like that.
Trevor let her out of the booth and she hurried after the woman. Going through the swinging double doors, she entered the kitchen, stopping short when she found herself in the kitchen and a cook had his hand on the waitress’s back.
“I’m sorry,” the waitress said to the cook between gasps for air and sobs. “I’ve had such a bad week. My husband left me for a younger woman and my mom just told me she has cancer last night. There’s a customer out there who isn’t happy with her meal. Will you deal with her, please? I think I need to go home.”
Jocelyn felt two inches high.
The cook saw her. “Is that her?”
The waitress wiped her face and smoothed her apron as she turned. “Someone will cook your hamburger the way you like it.”
“Oh.” Jocelyn walked to her. “Screw the burger. I am so sorry. So very sorry.” She dug into her back pocket and retrieved her badge. “I’m an FBI agent. I’m here with my partner doing a stakeout. All of that.” She waved toward the dining area. “Was all an act. You look like the subject we’re trying to find. But you’re obviously not her.”
“W-what?”
A Baby for Agent Colton Page 9