Distinguished Service. Tori Carrington

      She drank the rest of her milk to help wash the crumbs down.

      “Yes,” she said simply.

      Mace sat back as if stepping out of the path of a speeding truck. Not that she could blame him. Essentially, that’s what she was, wasn’t she?

      Not that she viewed her baby in that light. While unexpected, she’d instantly grown attached to the idea of having a child growing within her. Her son or daughter. And meeting him or her topped the list of things she most looked forward to.

      When it came to the opposite sex seeing her as dating material, however … well, she could understand how that would come as a major deterrent.

      Was there such a thing as a pregnant-woman fetish?

      She nearly laughed at the ridiculous thought.

      What man in his right mind would want to make love to a woman already pregnant with another man’s child.

      “So, you two were … are a couple?”

      She blinked to look at him. “Dustin and I? No. We’ve always been just friends.”

      He nodded slowly but she could tell he was not only not following her, he was so far behind he couldn’t make her out in the distance.

      She propped her chin in her hand and tried to explain. Not that the confusing story was all that clear to her.

      Taking care of her mother while her illness had slowly ultimately robbed her of the tiniest breath had hollowed Geneva out until sometimes it seemed only her beating, hurting heart remained. Her friends and everyone at the diner had been a tremendous source of support, but only she knew how deep her pain went. How watching her mom die by millimeters had profoundly impacted her.

      Yes, she could have put her mom in a hospice. But she’d wanted to spend every moment with her that she could. And the only way she could work out how to do that was by having Hospice come to them at her apartment.

      Then, suddenly, her mother was gone.

      It still seemed … strange, somehow. The shock she’d felt at not having her mother there anymore. She’d been moving toward that end agonizing moment by agonizing moment, yet the moment she was finally released, Geneva hadn’t wanted to let her go.

      And Dustin had been there to hold on to instead.

      “We met when I first started taking graphic design years ago at University of Colorado, Colorado Springs,” she offered. “We’d always been friends and had never even considered dating,” she said quietly. “And I know he doesn’t want anything more now. Not really. He’s projecting what he thinks traditionally should happen on to our untraditional circumstances. Trying to do what’s right.”

      She looked to find Mace still nodding … and still somewhat behind her.

      Finally, he smiled awkwardly and shook his head. “I’m sorry. My response probably falls just shy of rude … or is maybe full-out rude. It’s just that I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you’re pregnant.”

      She smiled. “Stick around. It won’t be hard in a month or so when I start showing.”

      She caught herself. Of course, he wouldn’t be around in a month or so. He’d be off somewhere on his final six-month deployment. And even if he wasn’t, there was no chance he’d stick around anyway.

      She squinted at him. Was there?

      Behind him, the jukebox clicked on B-17.

      They both laughed.

      “Okay,” he said. “Time for me to stop acting like an idiot and accept the fact that I misread the signs.”

      “Signs?”

      His gaze moved over her face and she felt herself blush. “Yes. The regular girl-guy stuff.”

      She smiled. “You didn’t misread anything. I’m pregnant, not dead, Mace.”

      He wore that “speeding truck coming toward him” look again.

      She reached over and touched his arm. “Sorry. You’re obviously having a hard time with this. So why don’t we just keep this simple.” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Geneva Davis and I’m pregnant. Would you like to be friends?”

      He stared at her hand, then her face, then her hand again. He slowly took it. “I’d love to be friends, Geneva Davis.”

      FRIENDS …

      A good ten hours had passed since his late-night conversation with Geneva in the deserted diner, the jukebox playing in the background, whipped cream, pie plates and glasses of milk littering the counter in front of them, and all he could think of was, despite everything she told him, he wanted to be much more than friends.

      “Sir?”

      Mace looked at Jonathon Reece, one of Lazarus’s personnel.

      “Darius would like to speak with you.” He held out a cell.

      He took the phone. “Thanks.”

      He stepped away from the table in the downtown Denver hotel conference room. He’d been in there for an hour going over the sketchy schedule of the visiting dignitary with Lazarus reps and sheriff’s deputies, waiting for Darius to arrive.

      “Hey,” he said into the phone.

      “Hey, yourself. Look, I got called in on an urgent matter back at the office. Would you mind taking the lead?”

      Mace glanced at the ten Lazarus reps, nine men and one woman, who were looking expectantly at him.

      “I’m afraid it looks like it would be for the duration. I’ve got a kidnapping/ransom case out of L.A. that just came in….” Darius continued.

      Mace grimaced. Not because he wasn’t up for the job. But because he would only have today to build up a rapport with the personnel he would be overseeing.

      He took in Reece standing military tall a short ways away.

      “I’d rather not. Isn’t there someone else you trust? How about Reece?”

      “He’s good, but I need someone with more experience. And I’m not talking security. One of Norman’s reps will be there in an hour. He’ll give you a full rundown of what we’re looking at threat-wise. And the sheriff’s office already has several routes mapped out.”

      “I’ve seen them.”

      “Good.” Dari said something to someone on his end of the line. “I really wouldn’t ask this of you unless it was absolutely necessary, Mace. I’d owe you big-time.”

      “Last check, your debt is already considerable.”

      Dari chuckled. “Got me there. Tell you what, I’ll name my firstborn after you …”

      Mace held the phone to his ear even after he’d signed off, the mention of children bringing Geneva back to mind.

      Why, oh why, did she have to be pregnant?

      He handed Reece his cell, took out his own and told the crew to take fifteen.

      He’d gotten her number last night, but honestly hadn’t intended to use it.

      Why then was he running his thumb over the cell pad, the mere thought of hearing her voice making his pulse run faster?

      The room emptied out and he sat on the edge of the conference table. He pressed the button to illuminate the cell screen only to find another voice-mail message from Janine.

      He sighed and rubbed his face. At his motel, he’d finally retrieved her messages. Five all told. The first two had been quietly nice. The next two longer narratives—the last one, she’d simply said she really needed to talk to him.

      He didn’t like the sound of that. And, yes, he admitted, a part of him was afraid of