Adopt-A-Dad. Marion Lennox
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of there with lightning speed, and even if he wasn’t forced to shinny down the drainpipe, he would have done it if he’d needed to.
HE THOUGHT he’d left trouble behind him, but Jenny had company—and trouble of her own.
When he’d left her she was sitting alone in his gorgeous car. Now she was surrounded by five or six youths, and one look told him they meant no good. Michael rounded the corner and froze, melting swiftly against the brickwork. As a cop, he was trained to stop and assess before moving, and he didn’t like the scene before him one bit.
It had been stupid to bring the Corvette here. If he’d known…
“Get out of the car, lady.” The youths had been drinking, he figured. They were loud and aggressive, egging each other on. Could he handle five of them if they turned nasty?
There wasn’t much choice, he decided, thinking longing thoughts of his gun, which was safely and uselessly locked in his office at the hospital. He’d hardly been planning to turn it on immigration officials, so he’d left it behind.
He couldn’t leave Jenny on her own while he went for backup. He had to move. But as he made to emerge from the shadows, Jenny’s voice stopped him short.
“Why on earth would I want to get out of the car, Jason Hemming?”
“What?” It was the tallest of the youths—a kid of about nineteen—and his bravado sounded a bit shaky. “How do you know who I am?”
“We want your car, lady,” another youth butted in, his voice threatening. “Get out or we’ll take you—”
“Me?” There was laughter in Jenny’s voice. She didn’t sound one inch afraid. “Come on, Tommy. That’s not your speed. Driving with pregnant women.”
“I’m not—”
She didn’t let him finish. “Tommy, I’ve seen you with ten different ladies since I moved in here, and every one is a heap more attractive than me. I don’t want to ruin your reputation.”
“You live here?” It was the same voice, raised in incredulity.
“I sure do. I know your mom, Jason—and yours, too, Tommy. In fact, I helped your kid sister with her homework last night. Adele’s your sister, isn’t she, Tommy? She’s a real cutie. I live up in number thirty-seven.”
“Hey, I think I’ve seen her around,” one of the boys said, his voice nervous. “She’s not lying.”
“So why are you driving this?” Tommy was disbelieving.
“Me? Driving this? You have to be kidding! It belongs to my boss,” Jenny said cheerfully. “He’s loaded. Isn’t it the best?”
“We want it.”
“You and me both, but you want to get me sacked?” Her voice grew reproachful. “Or me to have my baby right here?” A tremor entered her voice, and Michael started forward. Maybe she was afraid. He stopped again as he heard what she was saying. “I’m off to the hospital.” She sounded almost proud. “I’ve got labor pains. My boss offered to drive me. He’s just gone up to get my toothbrush.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope.” Michael peered around the corner and saw Jenny open the car door, get out and stand so they could see just how huge she was. She staggered a little and put her hand to her back. “You want to know what a baby on the way feels like? He’s kicking so hard. Heck, it hurts, though.”
“You—you’re having the kid?” It was the first voice— Jason—and all the aggression was gone. “It’s Jenny, isn’t it? I recognize you now. Heck. You want me to get my mom?”
“Thanks, Jason, but I think I need a hospital more than your mom.” Jenny was allowing the tremor in her voice to grow. “If Mr. Lord would only get back…”
That was a cue if ever he heard one. Michael emerged from the shadows, carrying her suitcase.
“Mr. Lord.” Jenny practically fell on his neck. “You took so long.”
“Is it getting worse?” Following her lead, he appeared not to notice the youths.
“Two minutes apart,” she said, clutching her back and grimacing. “I’m having a bad one now. Please…let’s go.”
Michael threw the case in the back and climbed into the car. His face was grim. “Yeah, right.”
“Good luck,” one of the boys said, and Michael looked up as if he’d only just noticed him.
“Thanks.”
“I meant the lady,” the boy said, and as the car started, he added, “hey, don’t spit the kid out onto his leather seats, Jenny. You’ll be sacked for that, no sweat!”
There was good-humored laughter as they headed out of sight.
“THAT,” MICHAEL SAID carefully as they nosed onto the street, “was amazing.” He moved the car forward, not fast enough to draw attention—the Corvette got enough of that as it was—but fast enough to be out of there if anyone had followed him down the fire escape. “I thought there was going to be trouble. That was great acting.”
“Who said I was acting?”
He almost crashed. The car veered toward the wrong side of the road, and Jenny grabbed the wheel and chuckled. “Hey, okay, I was joking. Watch the road.”
His blood pressure lurched and settled, and he glared at the woman by his side. “Thanks for the advice.”
She dimpled. “My pleasure. Honest, though, there was no problem. They’re not bad kids.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. They steal cars, but maybe I would, too, if I was as bored as they are. And they won’t hurt anyone. Besides, it’s stupid to drive a car like this.”
“Yeah, right.” He grimaced. “You sound like a schoolmarm.”
“Well…” She managed another smile. Smiles seemed her specialty, and he realized suddenly why he’d liked having her around the office the past few months. Her smile lit up all sorts of dark places, and some of those dark places were right inside him.
But she hadn’t noticed his reaction. “I guess if you’re rich enough to afford it then you can drive it,” she said, “but you should have an ordinary one so you can pretend to be an ordinary person sometimes.”
“Pretend?”
“I’d never presume to call you an ordinary person,” she said, eyes twinkling. “After all, you’re my boss.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I know which side my bread’s buttered on.” She dimpled nicely, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and then hesitated, her laughter fading. “But I guess you’re not my boss now. If you could take me to the bus station…”
“The bus station?”
“It’s where you go to catch a bus when you don’t have a car like this to drive. Or any car to drive.” Her smile suddenly didn’t reach her eyes. “Michael—Mr. Lord—I’m really grateful—”
“You’re not working for me anymore, so it’s Michael,” he said curtly. “And you’re not going to any bus station. The immigration guys were arriving at your apartment as I left. Your landlady will let them in, they’ll discover your gear is gone, and they’ll think, ‘She knows we’re looking for her. She’s on the run.’ So where do you think they’ll look?”
“The airport?” she asked doubtfully, but he shook his head.
“No. They’ll never let you on board a plane looking this pregnant, and immigration knows that. So where?”
She was silent, sitting in