They’d been right, as it turned out. Shortly after the move, Stu had walked out on her.
“I almost wish they had come with us,” Jamie said. “But I’m sure the phone company is grateful they stayed in Charity City and racked up a gazillion long-distance minutes.”
She worked at making light of it, but the pain of that time—not just Stu’s abandonment, but what happened after—she’d never get over it. And she couldn’t talk about it with the people who mattered most. All anyone knew was that he’d broken it off. Her parents worried about her too much, and she’d learned to keep things from them—ironically, to protect them. She’d never tell them what she’d gone through alone.
And now it was in the past. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and the loss she’d suffered had made her strong enough to face almost anything.
“Yeah,” Abby said. “Stu was a jerk.”
If you only knew how much, Jamie thought. “He probably still is. But I do wish my parents would learn to let go.”
“So, I guess you didn’t know about their Buy-a-Guy purchase?”
“You guess right.” She sighed and wrapped up the untouched sandwich. “When I got back to the office after court this morning, there was a message from my mom. That’s probably why she called.”
“There’s always a chance it has nothing to do with you.”
Jamie laughed. “Very funny. There’s a better chance that I could flap my arms and fly to the moon.”
“Yeah. Well. At least forewarned is forearmed.”
“Always looking for the silver lining, huh, Ab?”
“What can I say? I’m a glass-is-half-full kind of gal.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. Give Kimmie a kiss for me.”
“Will do. Take care. Good luck. Bye.”
After hanging up, Jamie looked at the message slip again. Forewarned is forearmed, she thought. She couldn’t return the call now because their restaurant was always busy at lunchtime, and besides, it was time for her to get back to work. But they would definitely talk after the dinner rush, and Jamie would make a case for discouraging the folks from whatever interfering they had planned.
“You always work this late?” The voice was gravel rough and breathtakingly masculine.
Heart pounding, Jamie swiveled her chair away from her computer monitor and faced the man in the doorway. She hadn’t been expecting anyone and the interruption startled her. He was big, probably just over six feet. His brown hair was cut short, and his eyes were the most unusual pale shade of blue. The black T-shirt he wore tucked into worn jeans was molded to an impressive set of muscles on his upper chest and arms. And he was magazine-cover handsome. Stu had been handsome, too. Probably still was, she thought irritably.
“Office hours are over,” she said. “I can see if there’s an appointment available tomorrow…”
One very broad shoulder lifted lazily. “That’s not why I’m here.”
He stirred then, every movement graceful and sort of predatory as he strolled closer. Jamie stood, for all the good it would do her. If he meant her harm, the best she could do with her own five foot two, 105 pounds, would be to put up token resistance. Make too big a mess to cover up. Scratch him. Get DNA under her fingernails. And…and nothing. She’d been watching too much Law and Order on TV, she realized.
He kept moving until he got to her desk. “Name’s Sam Brimstone. So what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
Hmm. “You don’t approve of law offices?”
“It’s not the building. It’s the ethics.”
“You don’t like lawyers.”
“Chalk one up for the counselor.”
“If you feel that way, why are you here?” Her gaze narrowed. “Did my parents send you?”
“Yes. I guess you might say I’m your bodyguard.”
Oh, great. So much for intercepting her mother and talking her out of the plan. But one could never go wrong being polite.
She held out her hand. “Jamie Gibson. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here.” His large palm all but swallowed hers. “By the way—nice people your folks.”
“Yes, they are. But I don’t get it,” she said, then let out a long breath. “My parents are so overprotective they’d wrap me in plastic and put me on the shelf if they could. And you’re a total stranger. Why would they trust you?”
It was one thing to buy the time a man donated for auction, but making him her bodyguard was something else.
“They checked out my references.”
“And those are?”
“While I was with the LAPD, I moonlighted and did some work for Hayden Blackthorn.”
“Of Blackthorn Investigations?”
“You know him?”
She nodded. “This law office has used the agency’s services, and my parents have become good friends with him and his mother, Margaret, since they moved to Charity City a couple years ago.”
“Hayden and I knew each other pretty well. Apparently, he said some good stuff because Roy and Louise acted like I have wings and a halo.”
He was on a first-name basis with her parents? “So, is that why you moved here? To work for your friend?”
“Nope. I just dropped in to say hi.”
“Then I don’t get it. Why would you volunteer time for the auction?”
“Wasn’t exactly voluntary. More in the nature of community service. Judge Gibson—”
“Uncle Harry?”
His eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his wide chest. “I thought something was fishy.”
“What do you mean?”
“For starters, the punishment should fit the crime. I stopped in the bar for a beer. While trying to mind my own business, Bo Taggart decided to play fast and loose with one of the waitresses and I decked him.”
“In my humble opinion, Mr. Brimstone, you’ve already done the community a service. Why would my uncle be so tough?”
“Because I played into his hands by pleading guilty.”
Oh, great. A family conspiracy. “Surely your attorney advised against it,” she protested.
“Didn’t have one. Like I said, I don’t believe in them.”
Hmm. A cop who didn’t
