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  “So why can’t we stop?” she asked.

  “Because we’re stupid when it comes to each other.”

  She smiled, and he felt the smile on his own lips. He wanted to taste that smile. Wanted to taste every inch of her. But what he really needed was a cold shower and maybe a hard right hook to his jaw. There had to be something to knock some sense into him.

  It took more willpower than he thought he had to move her away from him. Bailey’s smile faded, and even though her breathing was still way too fast, the heat from the kiss soon started to fade, and reality sank in.

  “Oh,” she said in the same tone a person might use if they’d walked in on their parents having sex. “Yeah, oh,” Parker was about to apologize, to tell her he’d do his best to make sure that didn’t happen again, but Bailey spoke first.

  “You stopped kissing me because of your wife? You’re still grieving for her?”

  “What?” And it was a miracle he managed to say that. The questions really threw him because he damn sure hadn’t been thinking of Amy when he’d kissed Bailey.

  That caused a sudden surge of guilt.

  “You’re not ready to move on,” Bailey continued. “I understand that.” She shook her head and stepped away, walking to the window. “Except I really don’t. I’ve never had someone that important in life. Someone that means everything to me.”

  Well, Amy had been that—his everything. Too bad Parker had never told her or shown her. That’s because he’d always put the job first.

  Just as he was doing now.

  Parker scowled at that realization and assured himself that this was different. Bailey was in danger, and if he lost focus, that could get her killed. When he’d been on army assignments, Amy had been safe.

  Or so he’d thought.

  Bad weather and slick roads had been Amy’s danger. Not exactly a stalker, but it had turned out to be just as lethal.

  “Oh, God,” he heard Bailey whisper.

  At first, Parker thought this was just more of their conversation about why he’d stopped that kiss, but Bailey wasn’t looking at him. She had her attention fastened to the window.

  Parker raced across the room and looked out. Hell. It was the black car from the surveillance footage, but this time it wasn’t moving. It was stopped in the side parking lot of the day care, and the window was down.

  Parker could see the driver.

  It wasn’t Sidney Burrell, that’s for sure. But this was a male in his early to mid-twenties, brown hair.

  Parker drew his gun. “Call Sheriff Hale,” he told Bailey. He also took out his phone and snapped a picture of the driver. “Send this to Corps headquarters and have them put the photo through the facial-recognition software.” He shoved his phone into Bailey’s hand and ran toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Bailey called out.

  “I’m going after this SOB. Lock down the place once I’m outside, keep everyone away from the windows and doors and make those calls to the sheriff and Corps headquarters.”

  Bailey followed him down the stairs. “You should wait until the sheriff gets here.”

  Parker paused at the front door. “It might be too late then. If I catch this guy, then this all ends today.” Hopefully. There was still the situation with Sidney, but Parker would deal with that later.

  For now, he had a stalker to catch.

  “Remember, lock the doors and stay inside,” he warned Bailey.

  Parker wished he could take the time to assure her that all would be well, but it was an assurance he couldn’t back up, and besides there wasn’t time. He didn’t want that car driving away.

  He hurried outside and was relieved when he heard Bailey calling the sheriff while she locked the door.

  Parker raced down the porch steps and into the yard. The black car was on the left side of the building, but he went to the right so he could come up behind the vehicle. He had no idea if the driver was armed, but he had to assume he was. Parker also had to assume this guy didn’t have anything good in mind. After all, he’d eluded the sheriff for the past twenty-four hours, and now he had shown up and was sitting there like an animal ready to attack.

  But why?

  Was this to intimidate Bailey?

  If so, then this moron had certainly heard by now that Bailey had a bodyguard, and if not, he was about to find out the hard way.

  With his gun ready, Parker ran to the back of the day care and cut through the playground. When he got to the corner of the building, he stopped and peered around it.

  The black car was still there, and the engine was running.

  It was parked facing Main Street, a good thing because that meant Parker stood a better chance of sneaking up on the man.

  Both the driver’s-side and passenger’s windows were down, and it was hardly the weather for it. It was close to a hundred degrees, and the sun was bearing down on the concrete parking lot.

  There didn’t appear to be anyone else in the vehicle, just the driver. Parker glanced around to the other side of the parking lot. To the street. There was some light traffic, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else waiting to jump out and assist this stalking driver.

  Parker inched out from the building and behind a mountain laurel shrub. It didn’t provide much cover, but it got him a few feet closer. Still, there were at least twenty yards between him and that car.

  He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his gun and went for it. He didn’t run. Parker just took aim and began to walk toward the car.

  As he got closer, he got a better look at the guy thanks to the angle of the passenger’s-side mirror. The man had his attention nailed to the second-floor window where Bailey’s office was located.

  The anger slammed through Parker. This SOB was looking for her, probably hoping that she was sitting up there cowering in fear. But he knew Bailey. And she was no doubt making those calls and trying to figure out the identity of this jerk.

  “Put your hands on the steering wheel so I can see them,” Parker called out.

  The man didn’t move. He didn’t put his hands on the steering wheel, either. He just slid his gaze from the window to the mirror so that he was looking at Parker.

  Was this about to turn into an ambush?

  Parker glanced around again but didn’t see anyone.

  “I said put your hands where I can see them.” Parker walked closer, his gun pointed right at the driver.

  He couldn’t shoot him, of course, not this close to the day-care building, but Parker hoped the gun would be intimidating enough. Besides, he figured this guy was a coward. Most stalkers were.

  As if he had all the time in the world and nothing to be concerned about, the man finally put his hands on the steering wheel. No gun. But he had something in his left hand.

  It was a piece of paper.

  “Who are you?” Parker demanded. He went closer, eating up the distance between them. If he made it all the way to the car, he intended to drag the guy out and check to make sure he wasn’t armed. Then, the sheriff could take him in for questioning.

  But Parker wanted some answers now.

  “What do you want with Bailey?” Parker asked. He approached the back of the vehicle and started to the side.

  The man waited until Parker was just a few yards away, and his hand moved. He tossed the paper out the window and then slammed on the accelerator.

  “Stop!” Parker yelled, and he took aim, hoping it would cause the guy to stop.

  It didn’t.

  The driver flew out of the parking lot and directly onto Main Street. Right into traffic. Two vehicles had to swerve to keep from hitting the car. There were the sounds of horns honking and brakes squealing. The sound of a police siren, too. But the driver maneuvered through the now stopped cars and sped away.

  Parker ran after him.

  Maybe the idiot would crash into something. Hopefully, not another car or person, but as crazy as he was driving, there was a good chance he would lose control of t
he vehicle.

  From the corner of his eye, Parker saw the sheriff pull into the other side of the day-care parking lot and drive around to where moments earlier that black car had been parked. Parker motioned back toward the street where he was running. He didn’t want to lose sight of that black car because the sheriff and he could then go in pursuit.

  Parker’s heart was racing by the time he made it to the sidewalk of Main Street, and his gaze whipped to the east, the direction the driver had taken.

  Nothing.

  The car was already out of sight.

  Parker cursed, turned and raced back toward the sheriff who had parked and gotten out. “I’ve already radioed my deputy,” Sheriff Hale told him. “He’ll see if he can pick up the driver’s trail.”

  Not much chance of that. The guy had already eluded them once, and Parker’s frustration about that must have come through in every inch of his body language.

  The sheriff stooped down to pick up the paper the driver had tossed out.

  “Wait,” Parker warned. “That might have prints we can use to ID the guy. He wasn’t wearing gloves.”

  “We know who he is, Parker,” the sheriff told him. He picked up the paper. “His name is Chester Herman.”

  Parker shook his head and looked up at the window. Bailey was there, staring down at him and obviously waiting for news. “How did you find out his identity?”

  “Bailey called Corps headquarters right after she got off the phone with me, and by the time I made it over here, they already had a match.” Sheriff Hale unfolded the paper and looked at it.

  Parker was thankful that Bailey’s call had gotten such quick results, but he knew what this meant. “They were able to identify him so quickly because this Chester Herman has a police record.”

  The sheriff nodded. “He’s a former militia troublemaker. He spent about a year behind bars on an illegal weapons’ charge.”

  “That’s the only jail time he’s had?” Parker pressed. Bailey was motioning for him to come to her, but Parker first had to get some answers and a look at that paper.

  “Yeah. That’s not enough?”

  Maybe. But something didn’t fit. A stalker who would escalate to this level usually had a history of related crimes. Other stalkings, vandalism, maybe even assault.

  The sheriff’s phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. “It’s Bailey.”

  Of course she would call the sheriff since Parker didn’t have his phone. He’d given it to her after he took the photo of Chester Herman.

  “Just how dangerous is this man?” Parker pressed the sheriff.

  Sheriff Hale took a deep breath. “Read it for yourself.” He mumbled some profanity and handed Parker the paper he’d picked up.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you okay?” Parker asked her.

  Bailey nodded, but that nod was a lie. She wasn’t okay. She was in danger, and the note that Chester Herman had tossed from his car window was proof of that.

  This isn’t over. Hope you enjoy what I have planned for you.

  The note wasn’t just sick and disturbing, it infuriated her. This moron was dictating her life, and why? Maybe because he was just crazy, or maybe he had some kind of point he wanted to make about how he disapproved of her mother’s strong stance against militia groups.

  Either way, Bailey felt like a hostage.

  It had taken her all afternoon and into the early evening to make the calls and do the paperwork, but she had officially closed Cradles to Crayons, put her staff on paid leave, and now, thanks to Chester Herman, she couldn’t even go home. Parker had taken her there just long enough to pack a suitcase, and then they’d gone for a quick supper at the Talk of the Town.

  Now they were driving to his place.

  She wanted her own bed. Her own life. But she didn’t put up a fight about going to Parker’s house. She was exhausted even though it was only a little past nine. Her body or her mind couldn’t handle much more of this kind of stress.

  “Last chance,” Parker reminded her. “I can take you out to your family ranch, and you can stay there.”

  Yes, she could do that, and then she would be trapped under the same roof with her micromanaging mother and Tim, who gave her the creeps. If she had to be trapped somewhere, she preferred it to be with Parker and his son.

  But then that created a whole new set of issues to deal with.

  Despite Parker’s assurance that it would be all right, Zach might not want her there at his house. If Bailey picked up on any of those vibes, then she would have to head to the ranch.

  Of course, Zach was not her worst concern.

  Parker was.

  And this attraction between them.

  The kiss in her office had nearly gotten out of hand, and she couldn’t risk that again. Well, she could.

  But Parker couldn’t.

  He was obviously still nursing a broken heart from his wife’s death, and giving in to the attraction might be satisfying physically, but Parker would soon resent himself and her. She didn’t need that, and neither did Parker and Zach. So, she had to put up some emotional barriers.

  Or at least try.

  Parker turned onto his street, and thanks to plenty of overhead lights, she spotted the small ranch-style house. It was in an older neighborhood with lots of mature shade trees and blooming shrubs. The lawns weren’t so manicured as on her street, but it had a welcome-home feel to it.

  Especially with the basketball hoop in the driveway.

  She smiled, recalling the conversation she’d had with Zach. Maybe she could talk him into shooting baskets with her. It might help to take the edge off this powder keg of energy and emotions inside her.

  Parker used the remote control clipped to his visor to open the garage, and once he’d retrieved her suitcase from the back, they entered the house through a small pass-through laundry room.

  “The guest room is this way,” Parker stated, turning on lights as they walked.

  Bailey followed him across the kitchen. It was sparse and a little outdated with its green tiles and white appliances. It was also spotless except for what was left of a take-out dinner from Talk of the Town and a half-empty glass of milk on the counter.

  Other than the leftovers, there were no personal touches. No knickknacks, only a Dallas Mavericks magnet on the fridge.

  Zach’s doing, no doubt.

  The cupboard above the fridge had a combination lock on it—causing her to wonder what Parker considered worthy of locking away.

  From the kitchen she could see the living room at the front of the house. Also sparse, but like the kitchen, it was neat and ordered. Nothing out of place. That probably had to do with Parker’s military training. There hadn’t been anything out of place in his truck, either. Not even a discarded gum wrapper or gas receipt.

  “Zach’s room,” Parker said as they passed the first of four doors in the hall. There was a keep-out sign, and she heard the music blaring. “Turn down the volume and use your headphones!” Parker called out and gave one sharp rap on the wall. “Ms. Lockhart’s here.”

  Earlier, she’d heard Parker phone his son to tell him that she would be staying with them a few days, but what Bailey hadn’t heard was Zach’s reaction.

  Parker tipped his head to the door next to Zach’s. “That’s the bathroom. Normally, it’s Zach’s, but he’ll use the one in my bedroom while you’re here.”

  “I don’t mind sharing,” she commented. “I don’t want to disrupt his routine.”

  “He doesn’t mind,” Parker said as gospel. Bailey made a mental note to discuss it with Zach because he might indeed mind.

  “My room is the last one. It’s at the front of the house.” Parker threw open the only door that remained. The one next to his.

  The guest room.

  Definitely no frills. A double bed with a beige comforter, a bare dresser and nightstand. Blinds but no curtains. There was a single landscape picture on the off-white walls.

  “It isn’t much,”
Parker mumbled.

  “Looks pretty good to me,” she assured him. “When you first said I’d be staying at your place, I had visions of sleeping on an army cot.”

  “The army cot’s in the closet.” Since he said it in the same tone as his previous sentence, it took her a moment to realize it was a joke.

  He set her suitcase on the floor and looked at her. “How are you really doing?”

  Bailey considered another lie, but what would be the point? Parker obviously knew that Chester’s threatening note had shaken her.

  “The sheriff is still looking for Chester,” Parker reminded her. “There’s an APB out on him. Plus, the people at Corps headquarters are checking into his background to see if they can figure out where to find him.”

  Bailey didn’t doubt that the man would soon be found, but she was worried that the authorities wouldn’t have anything to hold him. After all, the only new crime that he’d committed was littering, because he could explain away the note by saying someone had left it for him or that it was joke.

  It didn’t feel like a joke.

  Her heavy sigh made Parker slip his arm around her and pull her closer.

  Bailey automatically stiffened. “Remember what happened the last time you tried to comfort me.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted in that oh-so-sexy half smile of his, and he brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Zach’s just up the hall,” he reminded her.

  Zach was a built-in chaperone, and one they apparently needed because the heat of his chaste kiss on her forehead reminded her of his other kiss. The kiss that had turned her from being interested in Parker to being extremely interested.

  “I don’t have the time or energy for sex,” she said, then winced. Bailey blamed it on the fatigue because she hadn’t expected to be so blunt.

  Something went through his eyes. Eyes more blue than gray at the moment. Those eyes were like a mood ring, and the blue meant this was a good if not perhaps soon-to-be interesting moment.

  He looked as if she’d just thrown down the gaunt-let.

  And he lowered his head, put his mouth to hers and kissed her. Nothing chaste this time. It was hot and clever and probably curled her toes. It certainly made her feel as if she were melting.