Anything but Mine (14 page)

His hand closed around her wrist and he tugged her against his chest, wrapping her in a close embrace.

“I’ll make it go away,” he whispered near her ear. He tightened his arms, wanting to absorb all of her pain and fear. “I will.”

She slid her arms around his waist and hung on. “I believe you.”

“Good.” He laid his cheek against her hair and inhaled the sharp, clean scent of her. Hands moving over her back in soothing circles, he drew her as close as the bulge of their baby would allow. “Because I mean it. You’re safe with me, Autry. Both of you.”

Autry laid her legal pad aside and stretched. The notes for her opening statement insisted on swimming before her eyes and she didn’t need them anyway. The words were branded into her brain, along with the ramifications of winning this court case.

She uncurled from the armchair in front of Stanton’s fireplace and wandered into the kitchen. Her cotton pajama pants swished against her legs, and in her belly, the baby rolled, the movement harder, more prominent than in previous days. She patted the little bulge and opened the refrigerator.

A thud echoed down the hall and she jumped, heart kicking to double-time. Stanton’s muttered curse followed and she pressed a hand to her throat, pulse slowing. Since the photos had turned up in his truck, there had been no more notes, no more evidence of her stalker.

It seemed he’d gone away.

But the fear sure as hell hadn’t.

Grabbing a bottled orange juice, she ambled down the hall to the third bedroom, which served as his home office. In the past two weeks, she hadn’t returned to the bedroom his boys used, but had spent her nights in Stanton’s bed. They’d settled into an easy routine—early dinners, followed by Stanton reading or watching a movie while she worked on her case notes, going to bed together, sometimes to make love, other nights falling asleep wrapped close. He was gentle, affectionate, attentive.

She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why he was afraid of messing up with her. A couple of times, she’d started to broach the subject, but she hadn’t wanted to disturb the precious warmth of their evenings.

She paused in the doorway, one hand curved over their baby. Soon. She would ask soon, maybe even tell him how she felt, find out if maybe he was beginning to love her too.

Stanton stood at the window, measuring the distance to the corner. Autry sipped her juice. “What are you doing?”

He jumped, the tape measure retracting with a metallic clatter. With a sheepish grin curving his mouth, he shrugged. “Figuring out where to put the crib.”

An irresistible smile tugged at her lips. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”

“Probably.” He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. Oh, he was cute, with his feet bare under faded jeans and a T-shirt. The simmering attraction flared in her belly and she sipped at her juice again, trying to drown it. Lord, maybe that whole thing about pregnancy increasing a woman’s libido was true. Hers sure seemed to be in overdrive lately.

Or maybe it was just Stanton.

He glanced around the office, with its plain masculine furniture and metal desk. “I thought maybe I’d get one of those office armoires to hold my stuff. I didn’t want to put Hadden and John Logan out of the extra bedroom, make them feel like they were being displaced or anything, you know?”

Her smile widened. Another change she’d noticed over the past two weeks—he’d been reaching out more to his sons and they’d responded with cautious enthusiasm. “Sounds like a plan.”

He gestured at the white walls. “I guess you’d want to paint.”

Her breath caught. “It’s your house.”

His gaze met hers and she saw uncertainty flash in the hazel depths. “Yeah, but I’d started thinking about it as our house.” He laughed, a short, self-deprecating sound. “Insane, huh? We haven’t settled anything between us.”

At his words, her stomach clenched as her heart lifted simultaneously. Warmth tingled through her. She stepped farther into the room, eyes locked on his. “Is that what you want? To make this our house?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard, and glanced away. She held her breath during his long pause, but didn’t release it even after he looked at her again. “I want a future with you,” he said, his voice rusty, as though he forced the words from deep inside. “Both of you.”

She released the trembling breath. Setting her juice on the desk, she crossed to stand before him, her knees quivering to match the muscles in her abdomen. Head tilted back, she stared up at him. “I want that too, Stan, but I have to know it’s about more than the baby.” She paused and dampened suddenly dry lips with her tongue. His eyes darkened. “I need to know how you feel about me.”

He blinked, his expression closing, the glow in his eyes dimming. “Autry…”

She reached for him, grasping his arms with light hands. “Stanton, this is important. I need to know I matter.”

Frowning, he stared at her.

And didn’t say anything.

Her heart folded in on itself, becoming a small, cold knot of nothing in her chest. She turned away. Lord, she should have known, shouldn’t have let the fantasy get to her, make her hope for more. Fighting back a wave of tears, she escaped into the hallway. She dashed away a couple of stray drops that dared fall.

Strong hands closed on her shoulders, tugged her back against a solid chest. His spicy scent surrounded her and a hint of stubble scratched her ear.

“You’ve always mattered,” he whispered. “Don’t you know that?”

She struggled in his easy hold, pulling loose to face him. “How would I? You’re not exactly free and easy with your emotions. You let me go easily enough.”

“I told you, I was scared.” He backed her into the wall, a hand on either side of her neck. In the dim light, his eyes glittered. He leaned closer. “It’s not that you don’t matter, Autry. You matter too much.”

“I don’t understand you,” she whispered. She closed her eyes to block out his too-persuasive gaze. “If I mean that much, why did you leave me?”

“Because I wanted you to have the best.” He murmured the words, nuzzling her temple. His deep sigh stirred her bangs and he pulled away. Cool air washed over her in the absence of his warm body. “And that’s not me.”

The dejection in his voice pierced her heart and she opened her eyes. He looked down at her with an expression she’d caught glimpses of the first time they’d been together—a longing, that sense he starved for something more than just the moment.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Why not?”

“Pick a reason. I’m too old for you, I screwed up one marriage already—”

“Have you ever screwed up a case?” She pinned him with a stern look.

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Yeah. Everybody does.”

“Did you give up being a cop?”

Muscles moved in his throat. “That’s different.”

“No, it’s not.” She held his gaze, desperation curling through her. This seemed a make-or-break opportunity and damn if she intended to break. Or let him do it either. “You didn’t run from the job. And you can’t keep running from this.”

“I don’t know what to do.” The rough words seemed torn from him. “I don’t want to hurt you and I’m not sure how to keep from doing that.”

Love me.
She couldn’t say it. A huge gulf lay between “you matter” and “I love you”. He cared. He wanted her. Couldn’t that be enough for now?

The baby rolled in her womb and she reached for his hands, curving them over the small mound. The movements, growing stronger within her over the last few days, had proved elusive for him. She watched his face. “There she goes again.”

He frowned, concentration furrowing his brow. A slow smile broke over his face and he lifted his gaze to hers.

“I feel her.” He laughed, tension evaporating from his features. “God, that’s amazing.”

She stroked his wrists, gaze trained on his awe-filled face. Yes. For now, this would be enough. She just needed to keep this emotional connection open between them. Surely, the rest would come.

It had to.

Stanton drifted through layers of sleep to awareness. Early fingers of dawn filtered through his thin curtains. Autry lay sprawled across his chest, her breath warm and humid on his skin. Her stomach was a hard bump against his hip and memories of feeling their daughter move within her rose in him. Transfixed by an emotion so strong and pure it stole his ability to breathe, he tightened his arm around her.

He wanted to hold on to them, to never let them go. He wanted their baby, but even more, he wanted forever with Autry. The fear tried to lift its head, but the sheer contentment of having her with him crowded it out. Maybe that was the key…focus on the positives, fight against the fear. Maybe holding on to the way he felt about her, the way she made him feel, would lead him in the right direction.

She stirred, murmuring, and he rubbed his palm over her hip. Her lips moved against his chest in a small kiss. “What time is it?”

“Early,” he murmured and whispered his mouth over her temple. Her rumpled hair brushed his cheek.

She lifted her head and smiled at him, a sleepy expression that stunned him with its simple beauty. “Morning.”

He chuckled, happier than he had a right to be. “Something like that.”

She tapped his chest and subsided, her cheek over his heart. Her sigh vibrated through him. “Today’s the day.”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. After four days of jury selection, she and Tom McMillian had finally agreed on the twelve people—nine men, three women—who would decide Schaefer’s conviction or acquittal. Today, the trial opened in earnest.

“Nervous?” He rubbed a small circle low on her back, where he knew it ached as her pregnancy advanced.

“Afraid I might actually win.” With another sigh, she rolled away to stare at the ceiling.

Stanton levered up on an elbow to look down. He curled a strand of her soft hair around his finger and studied her troubled face. His chest squeezed. He wanted to make it better for her.

And he knew her well enough to realize she wouldn’t want him to. He released her hair and stroked the back of his finger down her cheek. A surge of emotion, strong and pure, coursed through him. “Autry, I…”

I love you.
The words trembled on his tongue, but wouldn’t move beyond his lips. Was that what he felt? Would it be enough?

Better to wait until he was sure.

He rubbed his thumb along her chin. “I know doing the right thing here hasn’t been easy, but you’ve done it. No matter what happens, I’m proud of you for doing it.”

A tiny smile curved her mouth and she laid her hand along his jaw. “Thank you.” Her eyes dimmed and she pulled away to sit up. “I need to shower and get moving. No sense dragging this out.”

She slid from the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Stanton subsided onto his pillow, hands folded behind his head. Maybe he should have said the words. And maybe he’d done the right thing. Maybe neither of them was ready for that yet.

What he really ought to do, though, was stop thinking about himself and focus on what Autry needed.

He rolled from the bed. Juice, breakfast, support, whatever she needed from him. Maybe he couldn’t give her the words yet, but he could give her the actions.

Autry stepped into the courthouse from the side door and her stomach rolled. For a moment, she was afraid she’d throw up, then and there, and the nausea didn’t have anything to do with her pregnancy. She couldn’t remember ever being this sick with nerves over facing a jury. Townspeople crowded the lobby and hallway, waiting to venture through the stand-up metal detectors and head upstairs for the trial. A few looked in her direction and she caught a handful of disparaging and disdainful glances before she turned away.

As the deputy manning the side entrance waved a handheld detector over her body, she shuddered and found herself grateful for Stanton’s steady presence. He was quiet, but solid, everything she needed right now. His hand on her arm, he escorted her to the attorney’s meeting room just off the stairway.

“Are you going to be okay?” His gaze traveled over the people moving up the stairs.

She smiled, although it was the last thing she felt like doing, and clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. “I’m fine.”

He shifted so his body shielded her from the townspeople’s view. “Listen, I won’t be far away. Schaefer will be in shackles the entire time, up until he enters the courtroom. One of us will be outside this door until you’re ready to go and he’ll be under guard the whole way too. No one’s getting near you. I promise.”

She swallowed, the nasty metallic taste of fear coating her mouth. “You think he’ll try something today, don’t you? The stalker, I mean.”

“I don’t know.” He reached out a finger as if to touch her face and let his hand fall. She ached for that brief touch. “But I don’t want to take any chances.” A quick smile quirked at his mouth. “I have to take care of my girls.”

She rolled her eyes, struggling for normalcy among the fear and nerves. “You’re going to be insufferable about her, aren’t you?”

“Only when she starts dating.” His radio squawked, dispelling the sense of intimacy around them. He replied and she let the garbled conversation with its ten codes and terse male voices wash over her. Instead, she closed her eyes and focused on calming her nerves.

“That was Harding.” Stanton’s voice pulled her too soon from the fantasy she’d been building—a hospital room, their daughter in her arms and Stanton bending over them with love in his eyes. Reluctantly, she lifted her lids and looked up at his serious face. His gaze was dark and shuttered. “Transport’s here. I’m going to meet Cookie around back and bring Schaefer in. Sure you’re okay?”

“I’m
fine
.” If her voice trembled a little, it was simply nerves. Pretrial jitters. Never mind she’d outgrown those jitters during her first year of trial work.