Julie Miller - Assumed Identity

She wanted him to move with the baby? The little thing stretched out, nestled her butt in his palm and turned her face into his chest as if she was settling in for the night. Hell, the thing was so tiny, he barely felt the weight of her lying across his arm. What if he stumbled? Or squeezed his big hand too hard? He was armed and dangerous, for Pete’s sake. “Lady—”

“Robin.” She’d already punched in the number and lifted the phone to her ear. “Call me Robin. And this is Emma.” She touched the infant again and nodded toward the green-and-white awning with the Robin’s Nest Floral Shop logo painted on it. “I must have wrenched my shoulder. I’d feel better if you carried her. Come on.”

Okay. Fine. If Robin was hurt, he could carry the baby. Carefully watching the infant in his left arm, Jake tucked the bat beneath his right elbow and nudged Robin into step ahead of him. “Let’s get you both inside.”

In just a couple of minutes, all the lights were blazing inside Robin’s shop and office, and Jake was more uncomfortable than before, if possible. He’d set the bat behind her office door and was pacing back and forth, from door to barred alley window, waiting for Robin to finish her conversation with the KCPD dispatcher and rescue the baby from him. Emma Carter was just so small and fragile, and he was so big and rough around the edges. He didn’t think it was a far-fetched possibility that he might accidentally snap the soft little thing in two.

Subduing a creep beating up a woman in a back alley, he could handle. But holding a tiny baby? Making civil conversation? Worrying about the stiff way Robin Carter was carrying herself? Trying not to peek while she tucked in her torn blouse and refastened her belt and jeans? Not his best thing.

Making the decision to trust him had sprung from the necessity of the situation. But the unfamiliar expectations that trust engendered made him a little nervous. As soon as she was done making her report, Jake intended to have her lock the door behind him and leave.

“Hey. You’ve got the touch.” Robin ended the call and came over to stroke Emma’s cheek. “I guess she’s decided she’s not afraid of you, either.”

It wasn’t until that moment that Jake realized the kid had stopped crying. He held his breath, afraid to move in case he’d done something wrong. “Is she okay?”

“She’s asleep. Haven’t you been around a baby before?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Her gaze flashed up to his and Jake looked away. Normally, he didn’t slip like that. But no way was he going to share the blank page of his life.

Apparently, Robin was okay with his lack of an explanation. Or just more concerned about her daughter. She touched the baby’s cheek again and the little thing buzzed a tiny sigh through her pink lips. “I tried everything to get her to sleep tonight. She must feel your warmth and strength. Emma feels safe when you hold her.”

This time, Robin bobbed her head, her gaze chasing his, insisting his eyes lock on to hers. Once they did, he couldn’t look away from their gray-blue beauty and what just might be a hint of longing there. Like she thought it might be a good idea if he held her, too.

The last thing Jake needed was a distraction like that. He’d already spent too much time with the Carter girls. The smell of baby powder and flowers filled his nose. The baby’s implicit trust in him was already short-circuiting the perimeter he liked to keep between him and other people. He didn’t need Robin Carter’s more womanly scent clinging to him, too, lingering on his skin and clothes when he got back to his apartment, reminding him of everything that was missing from his life.

A woman and a child were things normal men had. Men cursed as he was couldn’t afford the indulgence.

Best to clear all those warm fuzzies out of his head right now. He handed Emma back to Robin and purposely retreated beyond arm’s length. “She’s just exhausted because it’s so late.”

“When she’s too tired, she usually fusses all the more. I think she likes you.”

“I hope her taste in men improves as she gets older.”

“Don’t.” Robin’s eyes snapped back to his.

“Don’t what?” He could see her bottom lip quivering despite the reprimand in her eyes. She was rethinking her decision about seeking help from such a villainous-looking stranger.

But she pressed those expressive lips together and pushed aside whatever doubt she was feeling. “I don’t know who you are, Mr. Lonergan. But I know who you are tonight. And I won’t have you trash-talking the man who saved me and my daughter.”

Huh? She was lecturing him? Most people scared off a lot easier than this woman did. A harsh glance or gruff word usually nipped any overtures of friendship in the bud. She was a stubborn one. Or crazy.

He watched how gently Robin carried the sleeping infant to the white bassinet in the corner and unsnapped the fuzzy yellow sleeper she was wearing. She undressed the baby, diapered her, put on a clean sleeping outfit and cap without the kid making another peep. “I don’t see any marks on her. She may just have been in the way of whatever that man wanted.”

“Thugs with knives and baseball bats don’t steal car seats.”

“He had a knife, too?” She gave him a sharp glance, then winced at the sudden movement.

“He pulled it on me. Used it to slice through that seat belt, too, I’m guessing. You’re lucky he didn’t cut you.”

The color in her cheeks was fading again. “So why hurt Emma if he wanted to rape me?”

“I’m guessing he just wanted her out of the way. She’d be dead if that was what he wanted.”

Robin’s weary sigh made him regret the harsh honesty. She covered Emma with the flannel blanket before looking at him. “You’re not much for giving a girl hope, are you?”

Nah. He wasn’t much of one for hope of any kind.

Better stick to the tough words and keeping his distance to remind himself that spending these few minutes with Robin and Emma Carter was a one-time thing. He could save her from being raped or worse. But he couldn’t do the whole you’re-my-hero domestic bliss thing. “So what were you two doing out so late in this part of town?”

Robin opened a cabinet behind her desk and pulled out a thin baby towel that she tossed across the room to him. Apparently, he’d finally made his desire to keep some distance between them clear. He dried his face and arms while she pulled out a second towel to dab at her own pale skin. “I own this shop. Emma usually doesn’t fall asleep for the night until around eleven or twelve. I thought I’d take advantage of her schedule and catch up on some work.”

“Well, don’t do it again.”

“No. I won’t.” She towel-dried her hair, scrunching it into sable-colored waves that framed her face. “I shouldn’t have let work take over like that. I was worried something was wrong and I wanted to fix...” She stopped that excuse on a purposeful sigh. “I know better. With the Rose Red Rapist still around... Do you think that was him?”

Jake shrugged. Even amongst criminals there was a hierarchy of what was acceptable and what was not. A lowlife who preyed on a woman with a small baby in tow was pretty low on the list—at least in Jake’s book.

Maybe she hadn’t gotten the distance message, after all. She circled the desk and plucked the damp towel from his hands. “Did you get a look at his face? All I saw was the mask...and the baseball bat. When he dragged me behind the van, I thought...” She hugged the wadded-up towels to her chest and that full bottom lip quivered again. Jake’s human impulse was to reach out and offer some kind of comfort. But his survival instincts curled his fingers into a fist down at his side, instead. “All I could think of was that I had to stay alive for Emma’s sake.”