Jack's Christmas Mission

The moment she entered the kitchen, Wendy jumped up and came barreling toward Peggy Jo, then lifted her arms and cried out, “Mommy, you’re home!”

Peggy Jo picked up the fifty pounds of adorable mischief, who immediately straddled her legs around Peggy Jo’s waist. The two exchanged a big bear hug, then Wendy giggled as she stared at the man who came through the doorway directly behind Hetty.

“Are you the man who’s going to look after my mommy?” Wendy asked, squirming to be put down.

Peggy Jo obliged her by setting her back in the chair at the table. “This is Mr. Parker, the gentleman I told you I’d hired. He’s going to be our guest for a while.” Peggy Jo pointed to the plate of food in front of Wendy. “Now that you’ve met him, you can finish your supper and then one hour of TV before your bath.”

“Hey, there, Mr. Parker.” Wendy lifted her fork, but she didn’t take her eyes off Jack.

“Howdy, there, Miss Wendy.” He came forward, crouched to his haunches and shook hands with Wendy. “It’s mighty nice to meet you.”

“You know what—you talk like a cowboy.” Wendy hunched her shoulders and covered her mouth to smother a giggle.

Jack petted her under the chin, which made her giggle more. “Well, little darling, that’s because I am a cowboy. Born and raised in Texas on my daddy’s ranch.”

“You’ve got a daddy? Does he still live on his ranch?”

Peggy Jo noticed a flicker of something in Jack’s eyes, a momentary sadness mixed with something else. But the emotion lingered for no more than a flash. If she hadn’t been staring right at him, she would have missed the instant reaction to the mention of his father.

“Wendy, you’re being much too personal,” Peggy Jo said. “Mind your manners.”

Jack smiled at Wendy. “It’s okay, darling, you didn’t say anything wrong. The answer is yes, I had a daddy, but he died when I was thirteen.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Enough talk, missy,” Hetty said. “You finish off your pot roast, and as soon as I serve your mama and Mr. Park— Jack their supper in the dining room, I’ll cut you a piece of my jam cake.”

“Jam cake?” Jack rose to his feet and drew in a deep breath as if smelling the aroma of the special dessert.

“Made from scratch. My own dear mama’s recipe,” Hetty said.

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Jack sighed dramatically. “Living in the house with three beautiful ladies and having jam cake on my first night here.”

Wendy and Hetty both cooed, like captivated fools. Jack Parker was a charmer all right. A snake charmer! He might have the other two “beautiful ladies” eating out of his hand before nightfall, but he didn’t impress her one bit. However, Peggy Jo reluctantly admitted that she’d have to be on guard. She had a sneaky feeling that Jack’s Texas sweet-talk had a way of wearing down a woman’s resistance, judging by the heat she felt inside her body. Heat that had nothing to do with her temper, she realized.

After dinner alone together in the candlelit dining room, Peggy Jo showed Jack upstairs. The food was the best he’d eaten in years. Hetty sure was a good cook. But the company had left a great deal to be desired. No matter how hard he tried to be captivating and witty, his efforts failed with Miss Peggy Jo. She was determined to remain unaffected by the charisma that had lured many a good ole gal straight into his arms. Of course, he didn’t want this particular gal in his arms. All he wanted was to make his job a little easier by putting her at ease around him. Undoubtedly, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Peggy Jo Riley had constructed a ten-foot barbed-wire fence around herself, and only a fool would try trespassing. And Jack was nobody’s fool.

As he followed her upstairs, he heard the sound of childish laughter and splashing water. Hetty was probably giving Wendy her bath. Peggy Jo led him down the hall and into a large, neatly decorated room that had been painted an odd shade of brown. Sort of a reddish brown. The heavy wooden furniture appeared to be antique. Either that or really good reproduction pieces. He strolled in and took a good look around. He liked it just fine.

“This room has its own bath through there.” She pointed to the closed door on the right. “There’s a small TV in the armoire and a phone on the nightstand. And once you bring in your suitcase, feel free to use the closet and the empty top drawer in the dresser for your things.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I didn’t bring much. Just some underwear, socks, pajamas bottoms, a couple of shirts and jeans. I travel light and I’m not much for dressing up. But if you’d prefer that I wear a sport coat, I can—”

“How you dress is of no concern to me.” Peggy Jo stood tensely just inside the room. “Please, if you need anything, just let Hetty know.”

When she turned to leave, Jack caught up with her before she crossed the threshold. “Wait up.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t go getting yourself in a tizzy.” He hated that defensive expression on her face, the tense way she stood there, as if she were halfway afraid of him. Hell! He had put the fear of God into quite a few men, but never a woman. “I’m your bodyguard, remember. I’m here to protect you. If I’m to do my job the right way, I need to know certain things about this house and about your routine at home.”

As she sighed quietly, her shoulders relaxed. “Yes, of course. My bedroom is directly across the hall. Wendy’s bedroom is to your left, and Hetty’s room is next to Wendy’s.”

“Thanks.”

“Will that be all?”

“I notice you have a security system. I’ll need to know the codes.”

“Certainly. The password is sunshine. And the code is 1720.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “After I get settled in, I’ll need to ask you a few more questions.”

“By all means.”

She turned and sashayed across the hall and into her own room. What was it about her? Jack wondered. He’d seen women a lot better looking and most certainly with more appealing personalities, yet he found Peggy Jo intriguing. Was it because he saw her as a challenge? That had to be it. He sure wasn’t interested in her personally. He preferred his women a little less cool and defensive.

And apparently Miss Peggy Jo preferred her men—perhaps all men—to be kept at arm’s length.

The evening had passed fairly uneventfully, for which she was grateful. Wendy had been a little too mesmerized by Mr. Parker, and Hetty had been a little too solicitous. And Jack, as both Hetty and Wendy were calling him, had made himself a little too much at home to suit her. By the time he helped Peggy Jo tuck Wendy into bed, he was acting as if he were the man of the house. No doubt, Jack Parker was the type who simply took over, regardless of where he was.

As they left Wendy’s room, Jack placed his open palm across the small of Peggy Jo’s back. His hand was big and warm. And even such an innocent touch disturbed her greatly. She didn’t like to be touched. Not by men. And most definitely not by a large, rugged guy who towered over her by nearly nine inches. She rushed ahead of him in order to free herself from that massive hand.

Pausing in the doorway of her room, she waited for him, knowing that they had yet to finish up with their question-and-answer session.

“Do you want to go back downstairs?” he asked as he approached her.

“Not really. Hetty will close up. I’m tired and I’d like to take a long, hot bath and go to bed early.”

“Mmm-hmm. Why don’t you take that bath while I check things out downstairs and have a look around outside? I’ll lock up and arm the security system. Whatever other questions I have can wait until morning.”

“Thanks.” She took several steps inside her room, then paused and turned around to face him. “Despite my reservations about having a male bodyguard living here in the house, I am glad that you’re here. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you’re close by. But I haven’t changed my mind about replacing you with a female bodyguard as soon as one is available.”

“I didn’t think you’d changed your mind,” Jack said. “But I’ll bet if you took a vote, Wendy and Hetty would vote to keep me.”

“Wendy and Hetty don’t have votes on this issue.”

“Pity.”

Jack turned and walked off, leaving her standing there staring at his back. As he descended the split staircase, he started whistling. He’d bet money that Miss Peggy Jo was still watching him. He could practically feel her heated glare boring into his back.

Just as he reached the foot of the stairs, the telephone rang. He stood still and waited for someone to answer it. The ringing stopped. He headed down the hallway toward the foyer. Suddenly he heard Peggy Jo’s voice calling him.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker?”