Lyn Stone - Live-In Lover стр 2.

Now that the DEA had rounded up the smugglers who had been appropriating private craft for their runs, Damien was taking six weeks leave on his rented sloop to wind down.

When hed gone into the small post office branch to cancel the box this morning, the mail clerk had given him the envelope.

Michael Duvek, the regional director in Memphis, must have given Molly Jensen the address. Other than her brother, Duvek was the only person they really knew in common.

But Damien hardly knew her at all. They had met only twice while he was in the hospital in Memphis after that Nashville fiasco. The acquaintance was memorable for him, despite its brevity. A bright ray of sun on one of his darkest days there six months ago.

She had been visiting her brother, Ford Devereaux, the agent he had shared the semiprivate room with after theyd both been wounded. Absently, he ran a finger over the puckered red scar on his right

side, just below his ribs.

Strange that she should remember him. Damien had just come from surgery and recovery and was barely conscious when Devereaux introduced his sister. What a smile to wake up to. Unforgettable.

The next time she had visited, they had gone down the hall together for coffeeno fun task in his barely ambulatory conditionto give Devereaux and his fiancée a little privacy.

So that was the extent of their acquaintance, his and Molly Jensens, a drugged-out how-do-you-do, terrible coffee, and a quarter hour of conversation.

But Damien could never forget a woman like Devereauxs sister, no matter how short the association. Just thinking about her made him smile with remembered pleasure.

She was tall, a few inches shy of six feet. Lithe and graceful, but too energetic for a model. Shed moved more like an athlete. Perfect skin, auburn hair that shone like polished copper and a laugh that made her green eyes sparkle like gems. Such expressive eyes, he remembered.

Damien recalled how much he had wanted to touch her. Not sexually, exactly, though the idea certainly had merit. But just to see whether her joie de vivre was tangible, maybe even contagious. It had been.

As luck would have it, she had touched him first, just an arm beneath his to lend support. Hed been infinitely glad to be alive in that moment.

He looked at the card one more time and got up, sliding his bare feet into his shoes. What would she need him for so urgently? Though this certainly stirred his curiosity, answering her summons might not be a wise move.

She hadnt mentioned a husband, but she was most likely married. He knew she had a very young child because she had whipped out pictures and bragged that day.

A baby girl who was not especially photogenic. A smile tugged at his lips. In the photos it had worn one of those ruffled garter-looking things around its bald head and a fancy dress to match. He clearly remembered the poor thing only had two teeth shining in that wide grin.

Now why had he wasted brain cells storing inconsequential details such as that?

Damien didnt care much for children. At least, he didnt think he did. As it happened, hed never had the opportunity to know any close at hand. Judging solely on what others had said about them, they were messy little creatures, noisy and wildly unpredictable.

No, it definitely would not be smart to reply to this message of Molly Jensens, given that she was married and a mother and he had felt a definite attraction. Forbidden fruit always tempted him and Damien had learned the hard way to steer a wide course around it.

This time he wouldnt. He wanted to see her again. If she happened to be off limits, so be it. Nothing said he had to pursue her.

Ignoring his better judgment, Damien slipped on a shirt and headed out to the phone booth by the marina. Shed stirred his curiosity. He would find out just why she thought she did need him.

The skills he possessed might be in demand in some quarters of the world, but surely not in that of a wholesome young wife and mother like Molly Jensen.

Molly wrapped her arms tighter around the sleeping toddler and pressed her lips against the silky curls on her crown. Oh, Syd, whats Mama gonna do?

The phone rang for the fourth time and the answering machine kicked on. She listened to her own voice on the recorded message and waited for the beep. Molly dreaded hearing the laugh, that menacing, deep-throated chuckle. She had endured three of these calls already since noon. Their frequency was increasing.

If she answered, he might talk to her, offering more of those snide, oily questions of concern for her and Sydney that only she recognized as threats. That would be worse than these wordless messages, yet just knowing who it was on the line in no way lessened the terror.

Hello, Mrs. Jensen, a deep voice said. Damien Perry here. I received your card. If you would like

She snatched up the receiver. Wait! Dont hang up! Hold on a minute, I have to put the baby down.

She ran to the playpen, carefully laid the sleeping toddler next to her teddy bear, and hurried back. Sorry. I would have answered right away, but I thought Well, never mind that now. Are you here? In Nashville?