thought you were in graphic arts.”
“I freelance. Brochures, logos, illustrations for ads and such. My day job was part-time at the state museum downtown. I got fired yesterday. Jack’s responsible. Or rather, his father is. The man has connections on the board.”
Damien understood that Molly would probably attribute everything bad that happened to her to her ex-husband and his family. A natural assumption, and he wouldn’t argue it just yet. It might be true.
“You used past tense for the man you dated. Was Malia fired, as well?”
Molly looked directly at him then, her eyes darkened with sadness and roiling anger. “Joe died two days after we went out together. Hit-and-run.”
Damien almost broke the pen. “Murder, you think?”
“Well, Jack called me the next day and warned me nicely to be extra careful crossing the street.”
When Damien said nothing, she swallowed hard and went on. “Look, Jack was always insanely jealous, but I swear he had no reason to be. He wouldn’t believe that, though, and accused me of having someone else’s baby. That’s what the fight was about, the one that he was jailed for.”
The one he was jailed for? That indicated it was not an isolated occurrence.
Damien stared down at the notepad, hoping she couldn’t detect his rage. All she needed was another irate male around her. He had to remain calm about this and get all the facts.
“I see,” he said finally, though he didn’t see at all. How could she have stayed with the man after the first episode of violence? He had never understood it. Why would any woman do that, especially this one?
Damien could understand a man being jealous of Molly, but he doubted Jensen had gone after Malia with a car. The hit-and-run was most likely an accident and Jensen had merely used it to frighten Molly when he heard Malia was dead.
Using a vehicle to murder someone left too much to chance. No one with any sense used that method. Then again, Jensen certainly could be homicidal without being sensible.
The baby broke the silence. Her dainty hands continued to pound the layer of purple pudding she had concocted out of the muffin and juice mixture.
Slowly, Molly got up and began to clean up the mess as though it was a morning ritual. “I really need to get Syd and my mother out of town as soon as possible. Only I can’t think of where they could go that Jack couldn’t find them. He knows everybody we know. Well, except you, of course.”
“That would be wise. I’ll handle it,” Damien said.
Arranging for a safe place would be relatively easy. Getting Molly to go and then stay with them might pose a problem.
“Thanks,” she said quietly with a look of profound gratitude, and reached out to squeeze his hand.
The brief touch, just like the others, triggered something unfamiliar inside him. Not lust. Desire was already a given and had been since she had opened the door this morning. Maybe even before that, if he were honest with himself. There had been a stirring of it when he’d received her message in Florida and remembered her from their first meeting. This other not-lust thing, however, he didn’t want to examine too closely.
He silently observed while she microwaved a bowl of instant oatmeal with cinnamon and sat again, this time to feed her daughter properly with a spoon.
“My mea,” the child announced, sticking her finger in the bowl and addressing Damien directly for the first time.
“Yes, I see,” Damien answered, unsure how to converse with anyone that age but glad for the momentary diversion.
“Seeee!” she parroted, spewing fine bits of the oatmeal through her teeth and onto his favorite jacket.
“Stop that, Sydney!” Molly ordered firmly. “Don’t spit on the nice man.”
She shot him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Syd’s only nineteen months, but I think she’s hitting the Terrible Twos a little early.”
Damien watched the small lips quiver. Poor little thing. She hadn’t meant to spit.
“It’s all right, really,” he said, hoping to avoid another test of his tolerance for high-pitched sound. “She did stop when you said she should.” He smiled at the child to reassure her he wasn’t angry.
Molly nodded. “Yep. Syd’s brilliant.”
“Mmm,” Damien murmured noncommittally. It seemed a typically mother-like thing for her to say.
Damien had never thought much about motherhood and all it entailed, likely because he couldn’t remember the woman who had given birth to him. His uncle, a widower in his fifties, had adopted him when Damien was orphaned at age three.
A succession of housekeepers had provided only glimpses of what a mother around the house must be like.
Damien suddenly felt a tremendous lack, where before there had been only a blank space inside him he hadn’t realized existed.
He couldn’t chance that what had happened to him might happen to this child. Losing a parent must be the worst event possible for a little one.
Unless, of course, it was a parent like Jensen. He had to keep Molly safe so she could continue to give all she was giving to her child.
“You’ll go with your mother and daughter, of course,” he informed her.
She shook her head firmly. “Can’t do that. Jack would just wait until I came home and start all this again. I think we’d better get this settled while you’re around to help me, don’t you?”
She had a point, he admitted reluctantly. Molly was right about one thing, the police would not intervene unless her ex-husband did something they construed as dangerous.
Maybe he should allow her to stay here. Together, they might draw Jensen out, make him lose his cool in front of witnesses and threaten her publicly. Even if that was not enough to get the local cops to arrest him, Damien might be able to frighten him severely enough so that he’d give up his plan for revenge and leave Molly alone.
It was a long shot and probably not a permanent fix. The success of it would depend directly on Jack Jensen’s sanity. Unfortunately, there were few alternatives.
“Do you have an extra room by any chance?” he asked.
She laid the spoon down and looked at him with such hope, he felt guilty that he had ever considered not helping her even if his hesitation had lasted only seconds.
“You’ll stay here? With me?” Her relief was nearly palpable. “You’re terrific, you know that? I am so grateful, Damien. Ford will be, too.”
As if anyone could drag him away, Damien thought with a wry twist of his lips. Regardless of the reason for it, that brother of hers might not be all that thrilled with the idea of a virtual stranger bunking in with his sister. From the way they had acted in the hospital, Damien knew Molly and Ford must be quite close.
How would it be if Molly touched him with a bit of that
