The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones (7 page)

He supposed there was nothing unusual about Cindy Jones. In this neighborhood, hundreds of women just like her wore T-shirts and bare feet as they put away groceries. Yet, he'd never sat in a kitchen and observed the ritual.

She pulled three pink-paper-wrapped packages out of a bag and sighed. “Pork roast, roasted potatoes and salad. My favorite meal.”

“Sounds great.”

She placed two of the packages in the freezer and one in the refrigerator, then tossed him the empty bag to fold. “It is. Nelson never appreciated my cooking. He often wanted to go out. But I like eating at home. Which do you prefer?”

Mike was startled by the question. “I don't cook much.”

“Of course you wouldn't when you're with a client or subject or whatever you call them. But what about when you're off work? Or did you leave that for your lady friends?”

“Sometimes women cook for me.”

She was putting away cereal, raising herself on tiptoe and sliding the new boxes behind the old. As she came down on her heels, she glanced at him and smiled.

“Why is it men can take care of themselves perfectly well when they're alone, but the first second they live with a woman, they suddenly become helpless?” she asked.

“I've never lived with a woman.”

The smile faded as her eyebrows drew together. “Really? I knew you hadn't been married, but I just assumed...” Her voice trailed off. She reached into the full bags on the kitchen table and drew out canned beans.

Until she questioned him, he hadn't really thought about it. “My life-style isn't conducive to long-term relationships.”

“I guess not.” She reached in the bag for more canned goods. “No roommates?”

“I told you I travel light.”

“Ah, yes. Extra baggage weighs you down. Fight hard, fight lean.” She paused and shrugged. “For a long time I blamed the marines when my father left, but as I grew older, I saw that lots of other officers managed to balance a career and family. They were terrific fathers.” She looked in the bags on the table, then picked one up and started folding it. Her green eyes focused on something above his head. “When my father missed an important event at school or forgot my birthday, I used to wish one of the other families would adopt me. My friend Lorraine had a wonderful family. Warm, loving, everything I wanted. I remember thinking it wasn't fair.”

Mike was startled when he realized he could picture Cindy as a child. She would look a little like Allison, only her eyes would be dark with pain. “Life's not fair,” he said.

“I figured that one out on my own,” she said. “Although I still thought I could make it fair when I married Nelson.”

She finished folding the bag and slipped it into an open one, then moved to the long counter and started putting away fresh vegetables.

“Why did you get married?” he asked.

“The usual reasons.”

“Which are?”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “You don't know?”

“I never married. Never saw the need.” Or felt the compulsion. He liked women. Sex was great, but aside from that, he didn't get the point. Why would anyone want to share quarters with someone else? He'd heard the fights, listened to his buddies complain. It was better to be alone. It was certainly easier.

“You ever been in love, Mike?” she asked.

“No.” He didn't want to think about the loving part. That was the one piece of the puzzle that eluded him. Without wanting to, he remembered Cindy holding Allison in her arms after the little girl had been injured. The child had clung with the trust of someone who knows they're loved and will be taken care of. Cindy hadn't asked for anything in return, she'd simply given. He believed love existed—he'd seen it. It just didn't live in his world. He hadn't loved anyone, and no one had ever loved him, except maybe his sister.

She leaned against the counter and tilted her head to one side. “It's lovely. Your heart beats fast, your palms get all sweaty.”

“Sounds like the flu.”

“Funny. When I first met Nelson, I just knew he was the one.”

“Because you felt all tingly inside?” The question was meant to come out sarcastic, but instead he sounded curious. And he was.

“Actually, no. That should have been my first clue. With Nelson, the love grew more slowly. I was attracted to him because he was so different from me. His family has lived in Houston for three generations. He was stable. Until college, he'd never been out of the state. I thought he was the answer to my prayers. I was wrong on that one.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Me, too, but it's done. I'm going to do the best I can with my kids. They're going to have everything I didn't. Stability, a sense of continuity. A chance to grow up in one place. That's one of the things I like about living here. I know our neighbors, and they know us.”

Mike had lived in his L.A. apartment for five years and hadn't known even one of his neighbors. Of course, he was gone a lot, but even if he'd come home every night, he still wouldn't have made friends with anyone. He preferred to be alone.

“This is a different world for me,” he said.

“I'm sure it is. Minivans, schools, churches on every corner.”

Damn. He'd forgotten. “Cindy, some lady came by while you were out and left you something.” Using the table for leverage, he pushed to his feet, then limped toward the foyer. The sheet of paper was where he'd left it on the hall tree. He limped back and handed it to her.

She scanned the flier. “I'm glad she stopped by. I'd nearly forgotten.” She grinned at him. “I guess you don't have any blood to spare.”

“Not this week. Ah, Cindy, I didn't think when she rang the doorbell.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, Lord, you didn't pull a gun on her, did you? Was she about five feet tall, kind of round with gray curls and wearing a hat?”

“That's her and no, I didn't threaten her with a gun.”

“Thank goodness. Miss Vanmeter is one of the most conservative members of the church. She's a spinster and not very forgiving of us `young people,' as she calls anyone under forty.”

He swallowed and leaned against the island for balance. “I'd just gotten out of the shower. I was shaving. I came to the door in my towel. I didn't mean to flash the church lady.”

Cindy covered her mouth with her hand, but he could tell she was giggling. “The woman won't go to a movie that isn't rated G. I'm sure she'd never seen a naked man in her life.”

“I wasn't naked. I was wearing a towel.”

“It was probably the highlight of her year.”

“She thinks we're living together.”

That sobered her up. “Oh, my. Okay. I'll call the church secretary and explain.” She drew in a breath. “I've never been involved in a scandal before.”

“There's more.”

“The towel fell off? She made a pass at you?”

“I met Beth. She was standing in her yard while Miss Vanmeter was avoiding eye contact. We waved and said hello. Actually, she's the one I thought about flashing.”

“Oh, I hope you didn't. She would have enjoyed it too much.”

“That's what I thought.”

Light color stained her cheeks. Little lines crinkled by her eyes. He was close enough that he could inhale the faint scent of her perfume. He liked the fragrance, and the way her laughter made him want to smile. He lived in a world of shadows, dodging death and trying to outwit assassins. Cindy lived in a world of normalcy and light.

Without thinking, he reached out and touched the tip of her nose. “I'm sorry for making trouble with Miss Vanmeter.”

Electricity arced up his arm, through his chest and settled low in his belly. He couldn't pull away fast enough. Cindy's humor faded and she caught her breath as if she, too, had been burned.

He backed up and took his seat at the table. She continued to put away groceries. They talked, but the connection had been broken, severed by a physical awareness he couldn't shake.

“I should probably be leaving,” he said. Usually, he couldn't wait to get away, but this time, even though he mouthed the words, he didn't want to move out of Cindy's house. Which meant it was past time to go.

“You can't even carry two bags of groceries in from the car,” she said, opening the refrigerator and putting away margarine. “Wait until Monday. That's another four days away. If you try to do too much before you're ready, you'll just end up sick again.”

She had a point. “Okay, I'll leave Monday.”

She tossed him another empty bag, then leaned against the counter and folded her arms over her chest. “The kids are going to miss you.”

“Why?”

“You play games with them, watch those horrible cartoons and tell them great stories. Why wouldn't they miss you?”

He wasn't sure that anyone had ever missed him before. “They've been coming in my room,” he said. “I wasn't trying to—”

She held up her hands, palms out. “You don't understand. The fact that they're going to miss you is a good thing. It means they like you.”

“Oh. I like them, too.” He frowned. He liked children? When had that happened?

“Don't look so concerned. I'm sure it will wear off. Soon we'll all be a distant memory.”

“How long has Allison had Shelby?”

“Since about six months after Nelson and I separated.” Cindy carried the cartons of detergent into the laundry room, then closed the door. “It was about the time I told her that her daddy and I were getting divorced.” She bent down and reached into one of the cupboards. After pulling out a tall machine, she set it on the counter, then added tea leaves and water. She flipped the switch. “I've spoken to a counselor about it. I even took Allison in a couple of times. The woman told me it was pretty normal. When Allison is ready, she'll let her imaginary friend go. In the meantime, it gives her some security.”

She pulled out the chair across from his. “I never had an imaginary friend, so it doesn't make sense to me.”

“Allison is a good kid.”

“You know this because you've had so much experience?”

“I know people.”

She sighed. “I hope you're right. She's my baby girl. I just want her to be happy.”

He wanted to comfort Cindy, but he didn't have any words. Nor did he want to risk touching her again. Lusting after her in the privacy of his own mind was one thing, touching her was quite another. Besides, she'd felt the spark, too, and the last thing either of them needed was the messy entanglement of a relationship.

The sound of the tea machine was loud in the silence. Cindy bit her lower lip. The ringing of the phone rescued them both.

She jumped up and grabbed the portable from its cradle mounted on the wall. “Hello?”

He watched as her concern faded and she smiled. “Grace! Are you really in Hong Kong? This is an amazing connection.” She paused, then winked at Mike. “He's doing great. When I came home from the market, he was bench-pressing the sofa in the family room.” She listened. “Uh-huh. No, it's going fine. He hasn't been any trouble. He's right here. Why don't you talk to him yourself?”

He took the phone. As usual, before he could say hello, Grace was off and running.

“Michael? Are you okay? I called last week, but Cindy said you were pretty out of it. If I'd known you were hurt that badly, I would have stayed home. When I visited you in the hospital, you made it sound like a scratch.”

He eyed the outline of the bandage visible through his jeans. “It is a scratch. It just happens to go through to the other side.”

“Eeewww, that's gross.” He could picture Grace wrinkling her nose. His sister looked nothing like him. She was short and blond, with bright blue eyes. He didn't care that they had different fathers or that she was almost ten years younger than he. She was the closest thing to family that he had. Being around Cindy and her kids made him realize that was important.

“Are you being nice to Cindy?” Grace asked.

“Of course. I'm very polite.” He glanced at the subject of their conversation. She was pulling out bread and luncheon meat for sandwiches.

“That's not what I mean and you know it. She's very sweet and she deserves better than being dumped by her husband. So look out for her. Also, don't hide out all the time. Go outside. Sit in the sun.”

“It's nearly a hundred degrees here,” he reminded her. “The humidity is almost as high.”

“Stop whining. I'm just saying you shouldn't stay in the house alone all the time. My friends are going to be checking on you. Be nice.”

The doorbell rang. Cindy left the kitchen.

“I'm going to want a full report when I get back,” Grace said.

“From me or your friends?”

She laughed. “Both. By the way, what do you think of Cindy?”

The curiosity in her tone belied the casualness of the question.

“Grace,” he growled.

“She's very pretty,” she went on, ignoring him. “Smart, a great mother. I think you'll like her.”

“She's amazingly virtuous,” Mike agreed. “But I'm too old to be set up with one of your friends. I'm fine. Go back to your husband and run his life.”

“Mike!”

“Say goodbye, Grace.”

“I'll call next week. I love you. Bye.”

With that, the line went dead. He stared at the portable phone for several seconds before pushing the off button. She always said the same thing at the end of every conversation.

“I love you.”

How easily she spoke the words. As if saying them was simple. As if the thought of love was something she could grasp.

He stood up and limped to the wall, then hung up the phone. He wondered if Cindy knew Grace was matchmaking. Not that it was going to make a difference. Cindy wasn't his type. Hell, he didn't have a type.