LITMIR.BIZ

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froze, his blood cold in his veins. He stared at her back, noting how tense her shoulders were. “What? If he was a stalker, then why—”

      Georgia turned and sat down on the love seat, taking a small throw pillow embroidered with an owl and clutching it against her stomach. “About eight months ago, my boss was replaced by a man named James Galvestan. He was so impressive. I was doing well at the company, on my way to being promoted to vice president of new business development, and he was my strongest supporter, my champion, crediting me even though I only developed his ideas further. ‘You did the work,’ he’d say. ‘You get the credit.’ He was so handsome, so gallant. I fell in love fast.” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

      “And then,” Nick prompted gently, everything inside him twisting at where this was going.

      She leaned her head back, letting out a hard breath. “And then he began making it clear he was attracted to me. A lingering look, a hand on my shoulder, moving down my back. I was so flattered, but nervous about dating not only a colleague but my boss. But within weeks, I began noticing how controlling he was. I had lunch with a male colleague with whom I was working on a project—the next day, that man had been transferred. I’d find James sitting in his car outside my house, and when I’d go out to ask him why, he’d say he just wanted to make sure I was safe.”

      “Or alone,” Nick said.

      “Exactly. It’s as if he was compelled to sit outside in his car and watch, check up on me. Like being with me wasn’t the point. Just making sure no one else was. That’s when I realized I had to put an end to our romantic relationship. And he got even scarier. He told me we were meant to be, that I was his dream woman, and when we were married, I’d make him the happiest man on earth. The word marriage scared me to death. I told him we were through. And he grabbed me and said we weren’t through until he said we were through, that I belonged to him. I quit my job to get away from him—that’s how freaked out he made me.”

      “Please tell me you went to the police for a restraining order,” Nick said.

      “I did. It made him even angrier. He’d come to my condo and by the time the police came, he’d be gone and I’d be unable to prove he was there. The police said that until he physically hurt me in some way, there was really nothing they could do.”

      Nick knew all about that.

      She stood up and walked over to the window, still clutching the pillow. “And then one day I came home and found him in my bedroom, going through my things. He had old address books, letters, keepsakes. He started saying things like ‘How nice that your grandmother owns a restaurant in a small town. One phone call and Granny will have an accident, poor thing. And your sisters. I know how much you care about them. Small towns just aren’t as safe as they used to be. You never know who’s creeping around waiting to attack a pretty redhead like Annabel. Or a dark-haired former foster kid named Clementine.’” Her voice broke and she turned around, her head dropping.

      Nick wanted to rush over to her and pull to her him, comfort her, but he knew from experience that when people were telling their stories—whether victims or witnesses or criminals—you had to let them finish, not rush them, not lead them, not hug them. It took everything in Nick to stay seated, to let her finish when she was ready.

      She sat back down, the pillow on her lap. “I didn’t know what to do. He was threatening me, and the police said they couldn’t help me until he actually hurt me—or my family. So I panicked and just went along with him, figuring I could give myself some time to figure out what to do, how to get help.”

      “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice practically a whisper. “I was right there.”

      “I wanted to,” she said, finally looking at him. “I wanted to tell you everything. You can imagine how much of a comfort you were. Not only were you a police officer, but you were home—you were Blue Gulch. I let myself have that beautiful night with you, Nick. I was so afraid to tell you for fear of bringing you into it. He’d go after you and God knows what would happen and suddenly your whole world is upended because of me.”

      “Georgia, I would have taken that risk.”

      She shook her head. “I couldn’t let you.”

      I was right there. I was right there. The words kept repeating his head. I could have done something.

      She shifted a bit to face him. “The night we met, he’d told me he was going out of town for a couple of days. When he returned in the morning I panicked and pretended I just ran into you. You have no idea how desperately I wanted to run into your arms and tell you to help me. But I was so scared, fearing for your life, for my family’s. For your family’s. What if to hurt you, he went after your teenage sister?”

      Nick dropped his head into his hands. He’d been right there, he thought again and again and again. Right damned there. And he’d let her down.

      Just as he’d let his mother down as a teenager, unable to help her, unable to stop his father’s tirades and threats.

      She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when I allowed you to believe the night meant nothing to me, that that monster was my boyfriend. I was half numb, half terrified and found myself frozen. But when I discovered I was pregnant, I knew I had to get away before I started to show.”

      His heart was starting to thud. “You were going to go into hiding?”

      She shook her head. “If I ran, it was going to be to you. And that would just bring him right to your doorstep—to your sister’s doorstep. I couldn’t, wouldn’t risk that. I decided to go back to the police and beg for help. But very early that morning, the police came to my door. James Galvestan was found dead in my backyard, having fallen from the roof and twisted his neck. They found all kinds of cameras and surveillance bugs on him.”

      She stood up and walked to the windows, wrapping her arms around herself. He wanted to go to her, but he stayed put, wanting her to finish, to cry if she needed to.

      She turned to face him. “It’s a terrible, terrible feeling to be glad someone is dead, Nick.”

      “I know,” he whispered, but wasn’t even sure he’d said it out loud. He stood and walked over to her, jabbing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I hate that I let you walk away with that monster.”

      She was quiet for a moment, then said, “The reason I’m so sure the baby is yours and not his is that he refused to consummate our relationship until marriage. He wanted everything to be his version of perfect.”

      The baby was Nick’s.

      What kind of father could he be? What the hell kind of detective was he that he missed the signs, thought the worst of her?

      “Nick, listen. I want to put all that behind me. For so many months, he controlled me. He kept me from my family, from being able to come home when my grandmother got sick, when Annabel and Clementine desperately needed my help with the restaurant. Early on, before I knew what he was, he’d talked me into investing all my savings into a business venture that ended up not existing, so I’m completely broke. I lost everything. I’m not letting him invade my thoughts anymore. I have a baby to think about.”

      Their baby. She was carrying his child. Nick Slater was going to be a father. And given everything Georgia had just been through, there was no way he’d let her down. He’d be there for her—as far as he could. He’d make sure she was safe, pay for her health insurance, be an ear, build her a crib—whatever she needed. He never wanted her to feel a moment’s fear again.

      She put a hand on her belly, then smoothed the blue material and clasped her hands in front of her. “I want to babysit Timmy for you while you work and search for his mother.”

      The tension was gone from her shoulders, he saw. The shame and sorrow that had clouded her green eyes as she talked about what had happened in Houston—also gone. She was doing everything she could to move on, to not let it infect her. The determination

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