Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) Read online

  4

  THERE. SHE’D said it.

  Geneva paid an inordinate amount of attention to the crust she was pushing in and out of the whipped cream that remained in the chocolate marshmallow pie pan. By rights, she should have said something much sooner. The minute they’d sat down at the counter. Maybe even found a way to casually mention it early on. Something along the lines of, “Gee, I can’t remember my feet ever hurting this badly when I wasn’t pregnant,” or “Boy, if I wasn’t pregnant, I’d take you back to my place and do all the naughty things I see playing out behind your sexy eyes.”

  She couldn’t be sure why she’d been hesitant to say anything.

  Yes, she could; she knew exactly why she hadn’t shared the news: because for that short time, she’d enjoyed being just her. Just a single woman enjoying flirting with a hot, single man.

  “You’re…pregnant?”

  The two words broke through her reverie. She tried to decide whether the emotion behind them was more of shock or regret, but all she seemed capable of concentrating on was now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag, there was no getting it back in. You couldn’t exactly retract something like that. Pretend you were joking.

  And why would she? For a frivolous, albeit surely hot night between the sheets with a handsome stranger?

  Wasn’t that how she’d ended up as a single, expectant mother in the first place?

  She grimaced and found herself eating the crust, even though she hadn’t intended to.

  Comparing what had happened between her and Dustin two months ago and…well, tonight, was like saying the satin of a wedding dress and the satin that lined a coffin were the same.

  She drank the rest of her milk to help wash the crumbs down.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  Mace sat back as if stepping out of the path of a speeding truck. Not that she could blame him. Essentially, that’s what she was, wasn’t she?

  Not that she viewed her baby in that light. While unexpected, she’d instantly grown attached to the idea of having a child growing within her. Her son or daughter. And meeting him or her topped the list of things she most looked forward to.

  When it came to the opposite sex seeing her as dating material, however…well, she could understand how that would come as a major deterrent.

  Was there such a thing as a pregnant-woman fetish?

  She nearly laughed at the ridiculous thought.

  What man in his right mind would want to make love to a woman already pregnant with another man’s child.

  “So, you two were…are a couple?”

  She blinked to look at him. “Dustin and I? No. We’ve always been just friends.”

  He nodded slowly but she could tell he was not only not following her, he was so far behind he couldn’t make her out in the distance.

  She propped her chin in her hand and tried to explain. Not that the confusing story was all that clear to her.

  Taking care of her mother while her illness had slowly ultimately robbed her of the tiniest breath had hollowed Geneva out until sometimes it seemed only her beating, hurting heart remained. Her friends and everyone at the diner had been a tremendous source of support, but only she knew how deep her pain went. How watching her mom die by millimeters had profoundly impacted her.

  Yes, she could have put her mom in a hospice. But she’d wanted to spend every moment with her that she could. And the only way she could work out how to do that was by having Hospice come to them at her apartment.

  Then, suddenly, her mother was gone.

  It still seemed…strange, somehow. The shock she’d felt at not having her mother there anymore. She’d been moving toward that end agonizing moment by agonizing moment, yet the moment she was finally released, Geneva hadn’t wanted to let her go.

  And Dustin had been there to hold on to instead.

  “We met when I first started taking graphic design years ago at University of Colorado, Colorado Springs,” she offered. “We’d always been friends and had never even considered dating,” she said quietly. “And I know he doesn’t want anything more now. Not really. He’s projecting what he thinks traditionally should happen on to our untraditional circumstances. Trying to do what’s right.”

  She looked to find Mace still nodding…and still somewhat behind her.

  Finally, he smiled awkwardly and shook his head. “I’m sorry. My response probably falls just shy of rude…or is maybe full-out rude. It’s just that I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you’re pregnant.”

  She smiled. “Stick around. It won’t be hard in a month or so when I start showing.”

  She caught herself. Of course, he wouldn’t be around in a month or so. He’d be off somewhere on his final six-month deployment. And even if he wasn’t, there was no chance he’d stick around anyway.

  She squinted at him. Was there?

  Behind him, the jukebox clicked on B-17.

  They both laughed.

  “Okay,” he said. “Time for me to stop acting like an idiot and accept the fact that I misread the signs.”

  “Signs?”

  His gaze moved over her face and she felt herself blush. “Yes. The regular girl-guy stuff.”

  She smiled. “You didn’t misread anything. I’m pregnant, not dead, Mace.”

  He wore that “speeding truck coming toward him” look again.

  She reached over and touched his arm. “Sorry. You’re obviously having a hard time with this. So why don’t we just keep this simple.” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Geneva Davis and I’m pregnant. Would you like to be friends?”

  He stared at her hand, then her face, then her hand again. He slowly took it. “I’d love to be friends, Geneva Davis.”

  * * *

  FRIENDS…

  A good ten hours had passed since his late-night conversation with Geneva in the deserted diner, the jukebox playing in the background, whipped cream, pie plates and glasses of milk littering the counter in front of them, and all he could think of was, despite everything she told him, he wanted to be much more than friends.

  “Sir?”

  Mace looked at Jonathon Reece, one of Lazarus’s personnel.

  “Darius would like to speak with you.” He held out a cell.

  He took the phone. “Thanks.”

  He stepped away from the table in the downtown Denver hotel conference room. He’d been in there for an hour going over the sketchy schedule of the visiting dignitary with Lazarus reps and sheriff’s deputies, waiting for Darius to arrive.

  “Hey,” he said into the phone.

  “Hey, yourself. Look, I got called in on an urgent matter back at the office. Would you mind taking the lead?”

  Mace glanced at the ten Lazarus reps, nine men and one woman, who were looking expectantly at him.

  “I’m afraid it looks like it would be for the duration. I’ve got a kidnapping/ransom case out of L.A. that just came in….” Darius continued.

  Mace grimaced. Not because he wasn’t up for the job. But because he would only have today to build up a rapport with the personnel he would be overseeing.

  He took in Reece standing military tall a short ways away.

  “I’d rather not. Isn’t there someone else you trust? How about Reece?”

  “He’s good, but I need someone with more experience. And I’m not talking security. One of Norman’s reps will be there in an hour. He’ll give you a full rundown of what we’re looking at threat-wise. And the sheriff’s office already has several routes mapped out.”

  “I’ve seen them.”

  “Good.” Dari said something to someone on his end of the line. “I really wouldn’t ask this of you unless it was absolutely necessary, Mace. I’d owe you big-time.”

 
“Last check, your debt is already considerable.”

  Dari chuckled. “Got me there. Tell you what, I’ll name my firstborn after you…”

  Mace held the phone to his ear even after he’d signed off, the mention of children bringing Geneva back to mind.

  Why, oh why, did she have to be pregnant?

  He handed Reece his cell, took out his own and told the crew to take fifteen.

  He’d gotten her number last night, but honestly hadn’t intended to use it.

  Why then was he running his thumb over the cell pad, the mere thought of hearing her voice making his pulse run faster?

  The room emptied out and he sat on the edge of the conference table. He pressed the button to illuminate the cell screen only to find another voice-mail message from Janine.

  He sighed and rubbed his face. At his motel, he’d finally retrieved her messages. Five all told. The first two had been quietly nice. The next two longer narratives—the last one, she’d simply said she really needed to talk to him.

  He didn’t like the sound of that. And, yes, he admitted, a part of him was afraid of how he’d react when he finally saw her, even though he knew, with everything he was, that he wanted nothing to do with her.

  “Frank and I broke up… Well, I broke up with him…Almost immediately after you left for your last tour…Look, Mace, I know I have no right to ask you this, but it’s important I talk to you… In person… Apologize…”

  But it wasn’t that message so much as the next one that proved the cause for concern:

  “I’ve missed you…” A small, nervous laugh. “You know how hard that is for me to say, don’t you? Me? Who’s never wrong about anything.” A pause then, “But I was wrong about this. Wrong about you. I should never have done what I had. You didn’t deserve it. We didn’t deserve it. I really need to see you. Please…”

  It had been damn near impossible to get to sleep after that one. He hadn’t heard a word from her in months. Then the minute he gets back into town, he’s bombarded with calls.

  He honestly didn’t know what to do.

  He caught himself running his thumb over the cell pad again, Geneva’s name and number highlighted in his address book.

  He smiled.

  Yes, he did. He knew exactly what to do…

  5

  “BE MY GIRLFRIEND for a week…”

  Geneva couldn’t believe her ears. She was washing up her few dishes, trying to ignore how it would usually be double, but not now that her mother was gone.

  She dropped a glass and it broke in two at the sink bottom. She hadn’t realized she cut herself until she saw a perfect dot of blood on the tip of her left ring finger. She braced her cell phone against her shoulder, then ran the small wound under cold running water, wrapping a paper towel around her finger.

  “Hello? Geneva? Are you still there?”

  “Who is this?” she asked.

  Silence.

  She laughed. “Sorry. I know it’s Mace.”

  She knew it was Mace because his name came up. She’d entered him into her address book the instant he’d given her his number before leaving the diner the night before.

  Only she hadn’t expected to hear from him.

  Ever.

  “So…” she said. “I’m still here.” She turned and leaned her hips against the counter. “I’m sorry. I’m thinking it might have been better to begin that sentence with something like ‘Are you sitting down?”

  Mace chuckled. “Are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then maybe you should.”

  “Maybe I should.” She didn’t budge from the counter, although she did look at the small table and two chairs set against the wall she hadn’t used in over two months. “I’m sorry? Could you repeat what you just said?”

  “I asked if you might consider being my girlfriend for a week.”

  His request made no more sense now than it had the first time he made it.

  “Wait, I think I’m missing an important word there,” he added.

  “And that would be?”

  “Pretend.”

  She squinted hard. “I’d like to say that helps, but…well, it doesn’t.”

  He laughed again. “I’m working so I can’t go into detail right now, but let me just say this. You want…what’s his name? Dustin? To stop pursuing you. And I want my ex to stop her useless efforts. So, if we date, or pretend to, it should go a long ways toward helping us to that end.”

  “Ah,” she said.

  Okay. Now his meaning was beginning to sink in.

  “What time do you get off tonight?” he asked.

  “Seven.”

  “Okay. I’ll pick you up at 7:15 at the diner for our first date.”

  “Okay. Sure. Date?”

  “Pretend date. I’ll take you somewhere I’m sure to run into Janine. And, I’m guessing, Dustin will be at the diner when I pick you up?”

  “Probably.” Most likely.

  “Well, then…a win-win all the way around.”

  She heard voices on his side of the phone.

  “Look, I’ve got to run. I hate to rush you, but, well…what do you say?”

  She found herself incapable of saying anything.

  The idea of spending time with Mace? For any reason? Phenomenal.

  “By the way,” he said, “if this is to work, we can’t say anything to anybody about it. The fake part, that is.”

  “Of course.” Funny he should say that. She’d been considering asking for a little time so she could call Trudy and ask her advice. But he was right. If this was to work, they couldn’t tell anybody. If Trudy knew, well, then so would Mel, then Tiffany…and within five minutes the news would reach Dustin’s ears.

  “So, is that a yes?” Mace asked.

  She found herself smiling, imagining the possibilities. “Yes. I guess it is.”

  She swore she could hear him smiling. And her body reacted the same way it would have if he’d been standing in front of her—with a rush of heat.

  “Good,” he said. “See you tonight then.”

  He ended the call, leaving Geneva to remain standing at the counter, smiling stupidly at the opposite wall without complete comprehension of where she was or what she was doing.

  “Oh, stop it,” she told herself. “It’s just a game.” She pushed from the counter to get a bandage from the bathroom. “He needs to scare off his ex and I…”

  Her hand went to her still-flat belly.

  And she needed to convince Dustin that while he was welcome in her life as a friend and as the father of her child, the door was firmly shut when it came to anything else.

  She passed her home office, which was essentially what would have been the dining room, got what she needed from the bathroom, then heard her active computer chime, indicating she had email.

  She fastened the bandage to her cut and clicked to access the message. It was from Johnny’s Jalopies. She’d sent them the copy they’d requested last night.

  “Love it! But…” she read.

  More changes.

  She sighed and sat down in her swivel chair. Whoever invented the word “but” should be taken out back and shot. Multiple times. With a large-gauge shotgun.

  She read over her client’s suggestions—the fifth round—and wondered how an auto repair shop owner had gotten so picky. It was a Black Friday sales flyer, not a family crest.

  Family…

  She caught herself rubbing her belly again and smiled. If she needed a reminder of why tonight would only be for show, she had only to remember her condition. Of course, Mace wouldn’t be interested in dating her otherwise. Why would he?

  So she’d go out with him and help scare off her ex. Do what he wanted. Enjo
y his company. Have fun. And he’d do what she needed. Which was…

  She caught sight of the Harvest Dance flyer she’d helped design pinned to her corkboard then took it down. The event was this Sunday night. Perfect. She and Mace, dancing, obviously a couple, should be enough to persuade Dustin she wasn’t interested.

  She called the number listed on the flyer, arranged to pick up two tickets, then began writing Mace a text with the info.

  She hesitated pressing Send, rereading the message five times.

  Should she be friendlier? Perhaps act like a girlfriend? Maybe even ask him before arranging for the tickets.

  She gave an eye roll and pressed Send.

  Then she sat back, ordering herself not to check for a response every two minutes.

  She tilted the cell phone so she could see the display then laughed at herself even as she got down to the business of responding to Johnny, trying to ignore the zing of electricity that seemed to course through her body…

  * * *

  DAMN, HE WAS LATE.

  Mace checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes as he got out of the rental car he’d parked outside the diner. The meetings in Denver with the sheriff’s deputies and General Norman’s men had taken much longer than he’d anticipated. Simply, this assignment wasn’t going to be quite the run-of-the-mill one he’d first thought.

  Norman was receiving death threats, very plausible ones, in connection to his Denver visit.

  It seemed the controversial radio show host, who was rumored to be considering a run for political office, was not only popular with his supporters, but with his haters, as well.

  And more than a few wanted to see him dead.

  His visit to the Mile High City was for four days and his schedule was jam-packed.

  “What’s being done to find the suspect?” he’d asked three hours into the meetings.

  Everyone had stared at him as if he’d grown an eyeball in the middle of his forehead.

  He held his hands, palms up, on the reams of documents in front of him. “It’s just common sense to me. I mean, we’re spending all this time arranging to protect Robin from an unknown threat when, maybe, we should be getting to know the threat better.” “Robin” was Norman’s agreed-upon security name, as in bird dropping in for a brief visit before heading south again.