Judy Christenberry - Guarding Camille

“Jake?” Camille whispered from the doorway.

He spun around. “What? Is something wrong?”

“No, but…you didn’t come out. I was afraid Jamie was giving you problems.”

“No. I—I was just thinking.”

She crossed to stand beside him, way too close for comfort. Her rounded feminine body was clad in a lightweight robe that her warmth easily penetrated as she brushed against him. He tried to control the shiver that was his unwanted response. Just hormones, he told himself.

Leaning over, she ran one finger down her son’s soft cheek. “I’m grateful.”

“For what?”

“For the protection you’ve given me.”

“I’m just doing my job.” His voice was brusque, clipped, and he was afraid he’d offended her.

“And your friendship.”

He wasn’t comfortable with this conversation. In spite of the attraction he felt, or maybe because of it, he’d worked hard to keep his distance.

“I’ve been wanting to thank you for coming into the delivery room with me. I—I was scared.”

He’d known that, and he’d broken his own rule. No personal involvement. And things had gotten very personal in the delivery room. He’d held her hand, caressed her brow, whispered encouragement. He’d held her son, then passed him to Camille’s waiting arms, trying hard to hide the tears that had filled his eyes.

He cleared his throat now. Since then, he’d worked hard to maintain a cool distance.

“Just doing my job,” he muttered again.

Camille raised one delicate eyebrow. “The FBI provides surrogate fathers? Amazing. Do they advertise?”

Her teasing sarcasm rocked him. He took a step back from the baby bed. “Camille,” he protested, his voice carrying a warning.

“Why are you so afraid to be called a friend?” she asked. “Is it because of who I am? A gangster’s ex-wife? Is it because, through me, Vince has hurt other people?”

“What he does isn’t your fault,” Jake assured her.

She stood beside him, her head down, saying nothing. Just as he was ready to ease himself away from her, she spoke. “Will you promise me something, Jake?”

“What?” he asked, his voice harsh as he feared what she might demand of him.

“If—if something happens to me, would you make sure Vince doesn’t get Jamie? Would you ask your mother to find him a good home?”

“Camille— Yeah, I promise.” He wanted to deny the possibility of her being hurt…killed. But he was too honest for that.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and turned to leave the room.

He breathed a sigh of relief that she’d taken herself out of his reach. Out of temptation’s way. It was just hormones, he reminded himself.

She reached the door and paused. “By the way, should I send the FBI a thank-you note for your delivery room duties? I really am grateful.”

He ground his teeth, trying to think of an answer, but she didn’t wait. The door closed quietly behind her.

CAMILLE PULLED the sheet over herself in the darkness and tried to fall asleep. After all, with Jamie demanding to be fed every four hours, she needed the rest.

But her thoughts remained fixed on the big man she’d left standing beside her son’s little bed. Jake Maitland. It wasn’t just that he was handsome, with a trim, muscular body, dark hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Bluebonnet eyes, she’d decided, after seeing the Texas state flower bloom this spring.

No, it wasn’t his looks. After all, Vince was handsome, too. In a twisted sort of way.

And it shouldn’t be the care Jake had given her, either, since, as he’d told her so often, it was his job.

When the FBI had offered her protection, she’d asked for Jake. She’d come to trust him—not an easy thing after she’d found out how badly she’d misjudged Vince.

Jake had tried to talk her out of choosing him. But she’d just discovered she was pregnant, and for the sake of her child, she wanted the best. And the best was Jake.

In so many ways.

When he’d identified himself to her as FBI, he’d suddenly become standoffish. The friendliness he’d feigned to gain her trust had disappeared. He’d let her see his skepticism when she told him she hadn’t known about her husband’s illegal activities.

Fair enough. She didn’t blame him. She had trouble believing she’d been so gullible herself. But she’d been vulnerable, willing to reach out for warmth. Her parents had just died in an automobile accident, leaving her alone in the world. Most of her friends were married, and many had moved away from Washington, D.C., her home. Her job as librarian didn’t lend itself to making new friends. The other employees were older, set in their ways.

Vince had come along when she longed for human contact. He’d teased her, laughed with her, encouraged her to rely on him. A month later, she married him, believing she’d found a new family.

Instead, she’d found a nightmare.

Vince wasn’t a considerate lover, but she wasn’t very experienced. She thought things would improve with time. But once the challenge of capturing her was gone, Vince changed. He didn’t bother with charm any longer. Instead he issued orders. The first time she failed to obey, daring to question him, he’d slapped her.

Stunned, Camille had withdrawn. He’d turned on the charm again, teasing her into believing he’d had a bad day. It wouldn’t happen again. But he pointed out that he wouldn’t have had to slap her at all if she’d trusted him, as a wife should, and done as he’d told her.

Several other events alerted her to something rotten in the woodpile. She began to put offhand comments together. The second time he struck her, she waited until the next day, when he’d left the house. Then she gathered her belongings and as much cash as she could find, got in her car and drove away.

She should’ve known he wouldn’t let her go so easily.

He’d tried sweet-talking her back to his house.

No sale.

He’d tried sex. Or, in Camille’s mind, rape. She threatened to kill him if he touched her again. And she bought a gun.

He’d tried having a couple of his “employees” kidnap her, but she’d escaped and contacted the police. It was about that time that Jake came into her life.

She hadn’t wanted to trust him. She hadn’t wanted to trust anyone. But she needed help. After offering the information she had, she’d asked for protection. At first, the FBI hadn’t thought her situation warranted any official protection.

Then, when she told them she was pregnant, they’d warned her not to tell her ex-husband. But Vince found out, anyway. She wasn’t sure how. And he called her. He wanted the child, and he was willing to pay her a lot of money to come back to him.

She’d hung up on him.

For the next month, she was practically under siege. When the FBI finally offered her protection, after she’d thwarted yet another kidnapping attempt, she knew the man she wanted. Jake had been firm, patient and strong. He hadn’t flirted with her, as one agent had. He hadn’t been too familiar, either. A true professional, he’d only done his job.

And that’s what he said he’d done the night Jamie was born.

Holding her hand, stroking her cheek, encouraging her when the pain grew intense. He’d even called her sweetheart, but she was sure it had been unintentional.

He’d done more than his duty. His duty could have been performed outside the delivery room, in the hallway. He knew Camille would have only the best of care at the hospital his family ran. His sister Abby was Camille’s obstetrician, and Jake had total trust in her. But he had felt the need to do more for Camille. He’d been her friend, her strength, her rock.

And opened a Pandora’s box of hope.