Guarding Camille. Judy Christenberry

her tray on a table beside Smith’s chair.

      “I think if you’ll eat a little, Mr. Smith, you’ll feel better,” she said, smiling at him.

      Jake couldn’t help himself. He crossed the room and took Camille’s arm. “You’d better go back to the party.”

      Camille raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ll be missed, except by your cousin Connor. He seems, uh, eager to get to know me.”

      Jake had recognized the leer on Connor’s face. He’d told himself he was being hypersensitive, but the thought of sending Camille back to the party without his protection wasn’t a happy thought.

      “Thank you for the food,” Smith said to Camille. “I promise I’ll be fine after a few minutes’ rest and these snacks. I don’t want to keep any of you from the party.”

      Jake stubbornly refused to be dismissed. “Look at it as an opportunity to get even more information about the hospital, Mr. Smith. After all, Michael is head of security. He can answer any questions you might have in that area.”

      Smith studied Jake, as if questioning his words, before he smiled at Camille. “I think I’ve already asked too many questions about the hospital. I believe Mr. Maitland thinks I’m obsessive about my daughter’s welfare.”

      Camille smiled in return. “Having a baby, even a grandbaby, is an important event. I admire your concern.”

      Smith nodded. “I have to admit, I find the unusual story of your cousin’s return to the family fold more interesting,” he said, looking at Jake. “It was a topic of conversation for a while at the diner near the clinic.”