LITMIR.BIZ

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shared, even though she was the one who’d chosen to leave.

      As he headed for the baggage claim, his cell phone rang. Seven-fifteen on a Friday evening and somebody couldn’t wait, Jack reflected wryly. Moving out of the stream of foot traffic, he flipped it open. “Arnett.”

      “Jack! It’s me.” The hint of a Tennessee accent carried him out of his surroundings and into a warm zone he’d discovered the day he met Casey.

      “How’re you doing?” Somehow, he managed a casual manner that gave no hint of the hot summer storm she aroused.

      “I’m standing here dripping wet and my butt’s sore.”

      The tantalizing image speeded his heart rate. He imagined his shapely wife with a T-shirt plastered against her lovely breasts, writhing eagerly against him as his hands cupped her bottom.

      Put a lid on it, Arnett. She left you. Besides, she probably wants to know why you haven’t signed those divorce papers yet. “I take it you didn’t call to turn me on, right?”

      “Jack!”

      “So what’s up?” He dodged a luggage cart that threatened to take a piece of his ankle with it.

      “We’ve got a stalker,” Casey said.

      The word snapped him out of his sensuous frame of mind. “What do you mean? Are you all right?” Suddenly her description of her physical state took on ominous overtones.

      “Some tenants have seen a prowler a few times, possibly one of the women’s ex-husband. He showed up again tonight.”

      “He attacked you?” Jack’s gut response was to go after the guy. Having grown up in foster homes, he’d seen his share of men bullying women and it enraged him. During his years at the LAPD, he’d had to work hard to rein in his anger when dealing with domestic abuse.

      And this was Casey. Maddening, alluring, a little bossy and sexy enough to melt him with one flash of her blue eyes. He’d kill anyone who hurt her.

      “He squirted me with the hose and knocked me down. I didn’t even get a picture of him,” she grumbled.

      “A picture?”

      “I had my camera aimed right at him,” she said.

      “But you can describe him to the police, can’t you?” Jack pressed.

      “Well, no,” she admitted. “It’s dark.”

      He knew Casey liked to handle situations her own way but he was having trouble putting the pieces together. “Walk me through this. Did you see the prowler or not?”

      “I heard him poking around behind Gail’s place,” she replied impatiently. “So I tried to take his picture.”

      “You went out alone at night, unarmed, to confront a stalker?” He barely suppressed a groan. “Did he say anything?”

      “What would he say? ‘Hey, that’s not my good side, wait till I turn around’?” she demanded.

      Jack gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to argue, he wanted to get the facts straight. “You heard someone or something rummaging but you didn’t actually see it. So for all you know it could have been a bear.”

      “A bear shot me with a hose?”

      She had a point. Nevertheless, he realized, he should take nothing for granted. “You aren’t standing out there soaking wet hoping he’ll show up again, are you?”

      “I’m not stupid!” Casey flared. “Gail heard the commotion and came out. She checked me over…I mean, she’s a nurse…you know, to make sure I wasn’t hurt.”

      “I assume you’d know if you were hurt.” Judging by her outspokenness, Casey’s physical condition sounded just fine. “Where are you?”

      “At home. Gail left a few minutes ago. Now listen. The cops still haven’t arrived. I’ll be lucky if they get here by midnight.” Given the time difference, that was three hours away, he noted. “I wondered if you could refer me to a security agency in Nashville. I’m not sure who to call.”

      He supposed he or his partner, Mike, could dig up a name, but he knew how much companies charged. “It won’t be cheap. I’ll help with the cost, of course.”

      “No, you won’t.” Casey had refused to accept alimony, a fact that made it even harder to explain why Jack hadn’t signed the papers yet. Fortunately, she wasn’t asking about those right now. “I’m the one who owns this property. I’ll see to it.”

      Once his wife made up her mind, you either caved in or took matters into your own hands. “I’ll need to do some research.”

      “When can you get back to me?”

      “Is tomorrow soon enough?”

      “That would be great.” She hesitated, and for a moment Jack hoped she had something to tell him.

      Maybe she regretted their split the way he did. Maybe she’d decided she loved him enough that she didn’t need children to make their family complete. Maybe the separation and loneliness had given her time to think.

      Jack would have done almost anything to win his wife back. But every time he looked at a child, the misery of the past nearly overwhelmed him. At eleven, with his father in prison for robbery and his mother dead of cancer, he’d gone from a home in turmoil to a series of foster placements where he’d been at best an outsider and at worst a nuisance.

      The memories remained raw and the wounds barely scabbed over. The one thing he couldn’t do, even for Casey, was relive them by having a child.

      She broke the silence at last. “The sooner we catch this slob, the better. Several of my tenants are elderly and I don’t want them to have to worry about this.”

      Jack tried not to register disappointment that she had nothing further to say. It almost made him angry, though, that Casey cared more about her tenants than her husband.

      Well, she’d just handed him a golden opportunity to give their marriage one more try. To nab the prowler, he planned to dispatch the best-qualified security agent at his disposal. Himself.

      “I’ll take care of it.” To forestall any protests, he added, “I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

      “I really appreciate it. Thanks, Jack.”

      “No problem.” After a brisk goodbye, he clicked off.

      Although he’d have preferred to get right back on a plane, Jack knew he needed to swing by his house, catch up on the mail and repack. Guiltily, he remembered the African violet he’d bought to make the place seem homier. It must have perished weeks ago, completely forgotten.

      Nobody in her right mind would consider a guy like him a suitable father. Surely a little in-person persuasion would make Casey see reason. And if not, well, at least Jack would have tried. In the process, he’d take care of that prowler, too.

      Readjusting the bag on his shoulder, he dropped the flight attendant’s card into a trash bin with a silent apology. Then, rejoining the stream of pedestrians, he made his way toward the ticket counter.

CHAPTER TWO

      When Casey strolled into Ledbetter’s Garage on Saturday, she found that Royce had dived inside the truck he was repairing. All she could see of her former high-school boyfriend was his jean-clad rear end, somewhat expanded since his football days, sticking into the air in all its glory.

      “Nice view,” she commented.

      The clanking noises he’d been making halted abruptly. A moment later, an oil-smeared face emerged.

      “Well, hi.” Royce grinned flirtatiously, not at all daunted by his greasy condition. “Your

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