Live-In Lover. Lyn Stone

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      “Want me to take her?” Molly asked softly.

      His eyes flew open and he appeared confused. Reluctant, too, which amazed her. “I believe she’s nodded off,” he whispered, making no move to give her up.

      Molly laughed and reached to take her. “She’ll go right back to sleep, I promise.”

      “You’re a very good mother, aren’t you?” Damien commented thoughtfully as he carefully handed Syd over.

      “Don’t know how good, but I am dedicated,” Molly answered, snuggling Sydney against her and kissing the side of her face. “And I mean to make sure she’s safe from Jack. No way am I going to let him hurt her.”

      He grasped Molly’s arm gently and turned her to face him. “Do you really think he might hurt her just to get back at you?”

      “That’s about the size of it,” she admitted. “As far as Jack’s concerned, she’s just an extension of me and an embarrassment to him.”

      “Be honest with me, Molly. Are you certain she is Jensen’s daughter?”

      She looked him straight in the eye, angry that he would ask, but also understanding why he had to do so. “Absolutely. Jack’s the only man I ever had. And, believe me, one was quite enough.”

      There. That should crush any intentions he might have of starting anything between them. If she had read him right. If not, he’d probably think she was a total idiot.

      Damien nodded. Whether that meant he believed her about Jack being Syd’s father, or that he accepted her word she was through with men, Molly didn’t know. Both, she hoped.

      Molly put Syd in her car seat and tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach Damien had caused, the same quivering she felt every single time he touched her or she touched him. It unnerved her more than she wanted to admit, but she couldn’t seem to help inviting the feeling.

      Once they were on their way she turned on the radio, which was already tuned to a classical station. She automatically punched the seek button until it landed on Garth Brooks. Good ol’ Garth was always playing somewhere.

      Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to give Damien another clue as to how different they really were. Just in case he still thought they were from the same planet or something.

      He merely shot her a look of amusement and began softly tapping out the beat of the song with the forefinger resting on top of the steering wheel.

      “Where does your mother live?” Damien asked as they left her subdivision.

      “About six miles from here. Turn left at the next light and hit the Loop.”

      Damien asked for the specific address and exit number off the freeway, then deliberately took a roundabout course to make certain no one tailed them.

      Finally they reached a group of modest-looking condominiums and Molly pointed to the second set of buildings. “You can park in that space beside her Taurus.”

      Molly had the car door open and was out before he shifted into Park. He knew she was eager to get her mother and the baby out of town.

      “Get Syd out for me, would you?” Without waiting for him to answer, she slammed the door and dashed up the front walk.

      Damien exited a little more slowly, figured out the intricacies of releasing the sleeping baby from her upright bed, and gently lifted her out. She burrowed against him and then went boneless. He followed Molly’s path to the door.

      The women were standing just inside the doorway, hugging. He could see where Molly had gotten her height and coloring. These were two very attractive women, Damien thought. Striking, rather than classically beautiful. They were somehow very…real.

      If he’d met the mother when he shared a hospital room with her son, Damien didn’t recall it. But he had been under sedation until the day before Ford Devereaux was released.

      The woman must be at least fifty. She appeared much younger than that, though her short red hair was lightened with gray and he could see fine laugh lines around her eyes.

      Damien closed the door behind him. The living room possessed the same comfortable, lived-in quality as Molly’s place. Quirky accents—pillows, paintings and such—in bright colors, somehow fit beautifully and gave the heavy, antique furniture a decidedly feminine touch.

      Mrs. Devereaux disentangled herself from her daughter and looked at him quizzically. Molly reached out and clutched his arm. She did that so naturally, so familiarly, as though they’d known each other forever. Damien found himself wishing they had.

      “Mama, this is Damien Perry, Ford’s friend.”

      “How do you do, Mrs. Devereaux?”

      “Call me Brenda, please. I remember you from the hospital, though you were asleep when I saw you.”

      At the moment Damien could think of no good reason to disabuse either woman of the notion that he knew Devereaux well. They might send him packing if he admitted that he had no right to be here in the middle of all this. And Damien definitely didn’t intend to leave.

      “Molly told me Jack’s threatening her. Surely the FBI’s not getting in on it,” she said, frowning.

      “No, I’m not here to help officially, only as a friend,” he admitted. “Molly and I have been in touch before tonight.” Let her think what she would of that.

      “Aha, now I see.” She smiled cryptically.

      She took the baby from Damien and cuddled her close. “We’re going on a little trip, Syd!” she whispered, swaying, obviously enjoying the feel of the child against her. “Just you and Mommy and Gran.”

      Damien watched as the grandmother took the baby back toward what he assumed were the bedrooms.

      “Oh, God, how will I stand being away from her?” Molly groaned, and turned to him. “I’ve never left Syd with anyone longer than one night, even with Mom. I’ll miss her so much.”

      Without even thinking about it, he enfolded her in his arms as naturally as she had squeezed his arm earlier. She allowed it, and rested there, her face buried in the curve of his neck, just where the baby’s had been a few moments before. This felt right, Damien thought. Very right.

      “What will she think if I leave her?” Molly murmured against his neck.

      “She’ll be fine,” he murmured. “They both will be. It shouldn’t be for long.” Damien liked being her refuge, he decided. She slid her arms beneath his jacket and encircled his waist so that her breasts pressed comfortably against his chest. He liked that, too.

      Damien could have held her that way all night, but her mother returned. He gently grasped Molly’s shoulders and moved her away from him.

      “I put Sydney down to sleep so we can talk about this,” Mrs. Devereaux said softly. “Where are we going?”

      “Clarkston,” Damien told her. “I arranged for a house there.”

      “Are you sure it’s necessary for us to leave town? We could go to a motel or something for a couple of days until you or the police can talk to Jack and calm him down.”

      “That won’t do it, Mom. They can’t arrest him unless he does something to us. And I really am afraid Jack might. I want you and Sydney where he can’t find you.”

      Brenda Devereaux rolled her eyes and puffed out a breath. “Molly, I don’t like the man any better than you do, but surely after what Jack’s just been through, he wouldn’t dare—”

      “Ma’am?” Damien interrupted. “For whatever it’s worth, I believe she’s right.”

      Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Surely you’re exaggerating, Molly. Jack wouldn’t risk arrest again!”

      Molly dropped to the sofa and