“Wouldn’t that be kidnapping?”
Jack shucked his pants, leaving on navy boxer briefs. He had a beautiful body. “Not in North Carolina. Aidan’s his kid.”
“Was that why Travis was able to pick him up from camp?”
Jack scowled. “No, that was some seventeen-year-old counselor paying more attention to the kid on third base than the real threat in the outfield. I talked to the camp director. That won’t happen again. But, bottom line, Jane never got Tillett to sign a custody agreement. Without that piece of paper, possession is everything. The presumption of the court is equal custody. Tillett didn’t have a gun, so we can’t get him for armed robbery. He’s claiming Jane gave him the money in lieu of child support. The DA will prosecute for common-law robbery, but at this point the only charges I’m sure will stick are resisting arrest and assault.”
He slid into bed beside her.
“So my head bump was good for something,” she joked.
Jack gave her a hard, flat look. His cop look.
She tried again. “At least I didn’t hurt my book-signing arm.”
He didn’t seem to find that funny, either.
Frankly, neither did she.
A depressed silence fell.
“When do you leave?” Jack asked.
Not,Why don’t you stay?
She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I told my agent I was taking a little time off. I still need to go back and meet with my advisor, but I thought... two weeks?”
Two weeks. Two short, bleak words that dropped like stones into the silence.
“We could keep in touch,” he said. “After you go.”
She felt a ripple that might have been hope. “Are we talking about exchanging Christmas cards?” she asked cautiously. “Or something more?”
Something flickered in those dark, dark eyes. His lips curved just a little. “More than Christmas cards.”
Definitely hope. Her heart lightened. Fluttered. “I could visit.”
“That would be good. When you can get away.”
“I could bring pizza.”
He met her gaze, his face expressionless. “You heard about that.”
She shrugged her bare shoulders. “You warned me how it was. Everybody knows everything on an island.”
“And what they don’t know—”
“They make up,” she finished.
“I sent her away.”
She cocked her head. “Before or after the pizza?”
He searched her eyes, and some of the tension left his taut body. “After,” he admitted.
“Did she offer you the job again?”
“It doesn’t matter. I told her I’m not interested.” He caught himself and braced visibly. “Unless you want to talk about it.”
