Distinguished Service

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.