Major Nanny

“Sorry.”

A weak smile crossed her face. “Well, not you. Just what you’re suggesting.”

“It could be a coincidence,” Harlan said, although he couldn’t put much conviction behind the suggestion. The flower alone might not mean much. Nor would the hang-up earlier. But coming so close together-and so soon after a deadly attack on the governor-Harlan couldn’t help but see a connection.

He just didn’t know how the pieces fit together.

Stacy went to bed a little after ten, after helping him turn the sofa into a narrow but surprisingly comfortable bed. After she had closed the door behind her, he pulled out his phone and called the CSI offices, planning to leave a message on the operator voice mail to let his fellow agents know where he was and what he was doing.

But Nolan Law answered the phone instead of the voice mail system.

“You’re working late,” Harlan said, although he wasn’t really surprised. The first of Bart’s Misfits, as Harlan had come to think of himself and his fellow CSI agents, Nolan was Bart’s right-hand man. He was also the most enigmatic. From what little Harlan had been able to glean from the guy, he’d been badly hurt in combat, suffering burns that had resulted in extensive plastic surgery. He also claimed to have little memory of his life before his injury, although Harlan wondered if that was really true.

“Just catching up on some paperwork,” Law answered. “What’s up?”

Harlan told him about the possible threats to Stacy Giordano and her son. “I know it could be nothing, but she’s a vulnerable point in the governor’s defenses.”

“Because of her son?”

“Hostage to fortune,” he murmured. “She’d do anything to protect him. Someone who wants to harm the governor would almost certainly know that.”

“Are you going to watch her tonight?”

“Yeah, but I can’t be here all the time. I have to be on top of the whole security operation. I think we need to set up a checkpoint here at the guesthouse, as well. Do we have any more people on our most trusted list to add to the security detail here at the ranch?”

“I’ll get on that and get you three more guys to take eight-hour shifts. I should be able to round them up by tomorrow morning if I start now.”

“Thanks,” Harlan said. He flipped his phone shut and stared up at the faint shaft of moonlight casting a pale streak across the ceiling.

He might have finally brought his body under control where Stacy was concerned-for the moment, at least-but his mind seemed to be charging full speed ahead, twisting in knots as he tried to figure out all the ways Stacy Giordano might be targeted by a clever assassin wanting to do harm to the governor.

There were at least two strikes against her-she was the governor’s most trusted personal aide, and she was the mother of a vulnerable child with special needs. Someone ruthless enough to blow up a bomb in a crowd of innocent civilians was ruthless enough to use Zachary to force Stacy into a devastating act of betrayal. Harlan had no doubt that she’d do whatever was necessary, no matter the consequences, to save her son.

But would she be able to live with those consequences?

His stomach aching, Harlan made a silent vow. Whatever it took, he would find out who was trying to kill the governor. And he’d make sure nobody got close enough to Stacy to use her as a pawn. He just didn’t want to look too closely at the real motives behind his determination.

Because the only thing more dangerous than the job he’d just taken on was the way he was starting to feel when he was with Stacy Giordano.

Chapter Ten

When Stacy walked into the empty living room the next morning around six, she found the place nearly spotless, cleaner than she’d left it the night before. The pillows and blanket she’d supplied to Harlan were gone. The dishes she’d left drying on the sink were now in the cabinets. Even the counter had been wiped down, erasing Zachary’s sticky fingerprints. It was as if he’d never been there.

But she had a memory of a sweet, hot, too-brief kiss that assured her otherwise, even if she had no idea what she was going to do about it.

“Harlan?” she called aloud, though not too loudly for fear of waking Zachary. His preferred wake-up time was six-thirty. Any earlier-or later-and he’d be a bear to deal with, and Zachary trouble was the last thing she needed to deal with this morning.

Hearing the muted sound of voices outside, Stacy opened her front door and found Harlan, fully dressed, standing at the bottom of her porch steps, talking to a clean-cut Hispanic man wearing a leather jacket and jeans. They both turned at the sound of the door opening.

Harlan’s expression was hard to read. He didn’t look uninterested, exactly, but there was a sort of hardness to his gaze that caught her by surprise.

“Stacy, this is Rob Sanchez,” Harlan said, nodding to the other man. “He’ll be covering the seven to three shift.”

Distance, she thought. That’s what she was seeing in his eyes. He was putting a wall firmly between them after last night’s brush with intimacy.

She should be glad about it, shouldn’t she? Wasn’t that what she wanted, as well?

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sanchez.”

He extended his hand. “Rob’s fine.”

“Call me Stacy.”

Harlan cleared his throat. “I’ve got to get out of here. I’m going to spend some of the morning at CSI, so I won’t be back here until later in the day.” He started walking away.

Damn it, she thought. He knew she couldn’t leave Zachary alone in the house to chase after him. He was going to walk away without so much as a goodbye, after spending the night on her sofa, keeping her and her son safe.

After that tantalizing kiss.

Was she supposed to be okay with that?

Yes, Stacy. You are supposed to be okay with that, remember? You’re glad things are going back to normal and that you don’t have to spend another night dreaming about Harlan coming into your bedroom and reminding you what it’s like to have a man in your bed again.

She swallowed a sigh and smiled at Rob Sanchez. “How’d he round you up so fast?”

“Corps Security called me last night around ten-thirty. They call, I come running.” He cocked his head, giving her a look that wasn’t entirely professional, though he didn’t cross any lines that made her feel uncomfortable. “Do you need to know my credentials or anything?”

She shook her head. “If CSI hired you, I’m sure you’re qualified.” She slipped back into the house and closed the door behind her.

“Alone at last,” she said aloud to the silent, empty room.

And she felt every bit of the solitude.

“SANCHEZ MUST HAVE gotten there early.” Nolan Law greeted Harlan when he walked into the CSI offices shortly after seven-thirty that morning.

“He did.” Harlan shrugged off his jacket and hooked it on the back of one of the chairs at the conference table where Nolan sat. “Seems like a good guy. Where’d you find him?”

“He’s one of Matt’s Army buddies. Combat decorated, well-respected by his fellow soldiers and his commanding officers alike.”

“Wonder why he didn’t re-up?” If Harlan hadn’t been pushed out by his own CO, he’d still be in the Marines himself. Maybe not as a sniper, but he could have found something else he could do. He had a bum hand; he wasn’t disabled.

“Sanchez is the youngest in his family and the only boy. His mom’s widowed now, getting a little older.”

“Likes to have a man around to do guy kinds of things?” Harlan asked, his treacherous mind heading straight