soft skin, gently rounded breasts, and graceful hands reminded Gil that beneath the outer shell of efficiency, she was a woman. He met her brown-eyed gaze with a calm he didn’t feel. Some way, somehow, he had to convince her to back off this investigation. The feeling in his gut could be called premonition...or simply common sense. But he trusted that feeling...always.
“What you’re doing is dangerous, Bailey. If word gets out that you’re poking around in the TCC records, whoever kidnapped Alex may get spooked and try to harm you.”
She sighed and closed her computer. “Is this genuine concern, or are you trying to get rid of me?”
“All of the above?” He asked it jokingly, but he sobered rapidly. “Alex escaped and made his way back home. Which means somebody out there is really pissed off and may try again. There’s a good chance Alex is still in danger. By involving yourself in his situation, you court the same trouble.”
Her chin lifted. “I’m doing my job. No more, no less.”
“And if your job could get you killed?”
“I’m a paper pusher, Gil.”
“You’re a pain in the butt,” he groused, realizing he wasn’t going to win this round. But hearing her say his name was a small victory, nevertheless. He stood and held out his hand. “I’m starving, and Cade will be, too. Let’s go find him.”
* * *
The club dining room was packed. Bailey looked around with interest as the hostess led them across the floor. In a far corner at a table for two sat Rory and Shannon Fentress, still basking in the glow of being newlyweds. It was rumored that Rory had his eye on the governor’s mansion.
Like Bailey, Shannon was not much of a girlie girl. She owned and managed a working ranch and dressed accordingly when she was in town on business. Judging by the way Rory looked at his new wife, he liked her just the way she was.
Gil had reserved a table by the window because Cade liked to watch the horses outside. Though of course the TCC had a parking lot, it wasn’t at all unusual for someone to ride up, tie his mount to the wooden railings out front, and saunter inside for a bite of lunch.
Cade was his usually bubbly self. “I’m glad you’re eating lunch with us, Miss Bailey.” His form of address was the compromise Gil had allowed in his insistence that his son learn manners.
Bailey smiled at him. “Me, too. Did you enjoy yourself this morning?”
Cade nodded, already filling his mouth with crackers.
Without saying a word, Gil removed the basket from his son’s reach. “I think a lot of the members have been surprised at how nice it is to be able to drop off a son or daughter or even a grandchild and to know that the kids are close by, happy and safe.”
“Do you think the trouble is over?”
“I do. I really do. I still hear grumbling, of course. Particularly from the old guard.”
“You mean like him?” Bailey cocked her head unobtrusively, not letting Cade see. A few tables away sat Paul Windsor, a charter member of the TCC.
Gil grimaced. “Yeah. He’s one of the worst. But even so, I doubt he’d ever actually do anything to cause problems for the center.”
Bailey shuddered inwardly. She had interviewed Paul during her initial investigation, and the man had given her the creeps. Divorced four times, Windsor considered himself a ladies’ man. During the course of her questioning, Bailey had discovered without a doubt that Windsor was perhaps the most overt and obnoxious chauvinist she had ever met. He made no secret of his disdain for Bailey.
“I feel sorry for Cara,” she said, “having such an overbearing father.” Bailey knew what that was like far too well.
“I’ll admit...Windsor can be a jerk. But he wields a lot of influence around here, so it would be a plus to stay on his good side if you want to make any progress with your investigation. If he were to raise a stink, he could convince others that you shouldn’t be here in the club.”
“But I have a legal warrant.”
“Yes. And ultimately that would prevail. In the interim, though, things could get ugly.”
“Is my presence going to cause big problems for you, Gil?” The thought troubled her.
He laughed, his dark eyes warm and teasing. “I can handle trouble, Bailey. Don’t worry about me.”
Cade, tired of being ignored, piped up, a sly smile on his face. “Do you know how to cook, Miss Bailey?”
Bailey raised her eyebrows. “Where did that come from?”
Cade took a bite of the hot dog their server had delivered moments ago. Pausing to chew and swallow, he fixed her with the blue eyes that helped make him such a cute kid. “I dunno,” he said, the picture of innocence. “Dad says when I’m getting to know someone, it’s nice to ask them questions...but not too personal,” he added hastily, glancing at his father with a guilty expression.
“That’s good advice,” Bailey said. “So, in answer to your question, yes...I’m a pretty good cook. I started learning when I was not much bigger than you.”
Cade nodded solemnly, his milk mustache adding to his charm. “And do you like little kids?”
Suddenly, she understood what was happening. She was being interviewed for a job. As Cade’s mommy. Dear Lord. Fortunately for her peace of mind, the rest of their meal arrived, and in the hubbub of drink refills and the server’s chatter, the moment passed.
Bailey had looked forward to an intimate lunch with the two Addison men, but unfortunately, this was not the venue. Gil could barely eat his meal because of repeated interruptions from club members happy to see him. What Bailey suddenly understood was that Gil had sacrificed an enormous amount in choosing intentionally to be the caregiver for his son.
Over the course of almost five years, Gil was wealthy enough to have hired the best nannies in the world. He could have gone about his business, running the ranch, hanging out at the TCC, meeting women, perhaps marrying again. Instead, he had made his son a priority. Fortunately, his current role as TCC president was more of an honorary position than a demanding job.
The enthusiasm with which club members greeted him during one short lunch indicated both that Gil was extremely popular and well-liked, and that he likely was not able to be present at the club as often as many of his cohorts.
Cade bore the intrusion of one table guest after another with equanimity. Several of the men addressed him personally. For a child not yet old enough for school, his composure and patience were commendable.
Not many boys of Bailey’s acquaintance would be able to tolerate an extended meal in public without raising a ruckus. She sneaked him a couple of extra French fries off her plate while Gil was otherwise occupied. “Is it always like this?” she asked.
Cade nodded. “Yep. Everybody likes my dad.” The words were matter-of-fact, but Bailey heard the pride behind them.
“So,” she whispered conspiratorially, “do you think we get dessert?”
