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As he started to close the door, he heard Loucinda’s voice lower. “Jilly, how in the Sam Hill did you find Casey’s father?”
Fuck me.He went cold all over, leaned against the wall next to the partially open door.
“Ah … I …” Jillian stuttered. “How did you …?”
“Oh, come on, sugar. It’s not that tough to take a gander at Agent Hottie there, add two-and-two and come up with a five-year-old.”
Zane’s stomach clutched.Is it that obvious?
“Oh no! Oh, Loucinda, do you think everyone will see it? Zane doesn’t want … We can’t let Casey—or any outsiders—know.”
“No, you can rest easy on that. I’ve known our baby boy since about thirty minutes after he was born, so it’s obvious to me. But a casual acquaintance isn’t gonna connect the similarities between Casey and Mr. LWP.”
“Mister … LWP?”
“Lust, with potential. And plenty of it. What’s going on between you and Wolfe?”
“Well … It’s complicated.”
Loucinda snorted. “The smokin’ ones always are.”
“We don’t … we’re not …” Jillian gulped. “Loucinda, you have to promise not to breathe awordof this to anyone.And I meananyone.Remember, whatever happens … whatever choices I make … will be forCasey’ssake. ForCasey’sfuture.”
Zane swallowed.Right.And he’d better remember it too.
“Sure thing, darlin’.” Loucinda’s tone sharpened. “You just keep right on telling yourself that.”
“I need to get to work.” Jillian’s footsteps grew louder, then she flew through the door, slammed it shut and propped her back against it.“Damn, damn, damn! Damn it all to hell and back!”
“Yeah.” Zane blew out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Sums it up.”
Panicked violet eyes met his. “Of course you heard.”
“Kinda hard not to.”
“Listen, Zane, it’s okay. She won’t tell anyone. And she’s right, nobody who doesn’t know Casey like we do will guess. Please don’t leave. Not now. Not when we’re getting things rolling on the custody suit.”
He had no intention of bugging out until he’d finished the job, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use a tactical advantage when it was handed to him. “Tell you what. I’ll make you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I promise I won’t leave until you and the kid are both safe and secure … if you do the same, and promise you won’t take off with Casey.”
Her eyes narrowed. She sighed. “You hustled me right into that one, didn’t you, Champ?”
Zane lifted a shoulder and whistled a few bars of “Do the Hustle.”
“Bastard.” But she grinned and held out a hand. “Shake on it. I won’t run, Zane Wolfe.”
“I won’t run either, Jillian Ramsay.” As he enfolded her small, soft hand in his, a current of tenderness buffeted him, dropping the ground out beneath his feet.
He broke into an icy sweat.Jesus, Wolfe. You’re flying headlong into uncharted airspace here.
* * *
Zane spent the next several hours immersing himself in the computer at Deb’s former desk after ascertaining that neither Deb’s former machine or Jillian’s had been implanted with any tracking programs. He attempted—in vain—to block his thrumming awareness of Jillian working at her desk next to him. The warmth of her presence. Her intriguing patchouli scent. The rise and fall of her lush breasts with each soft breath.
Shit.
