Page 44 of Big Bad Wolfe

“Of course not.” She patted his arm. “But it’s very sweet of you, all the same.”

“I’m not ‘sweet,’ Jillian, in any way. The sooner you realize that, the better off we’ll all be.”

They’d reached the Mini Cooper and Casey clambered into the back seat. Zane flung open the back door, then opened Jillian’s door and waited until she belted Casey in.

She straightened, arched a brow at Zane. “If you say so, Agent Big Bad.” She murmured something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “huff and puff, ‘til you blow your house down.”

“Come again?”

Deceptively wide violet eyes blinked innocently at him. “Merely commenting that we have lots of tourists in town.” She grinned before she slid into her seat. “For the kite festival.”

Yeah. One tourist too many, counting me.

He shut her door and stalked around the car.

Casey chattered all the way home, but Zane tuned him out. Regretting his impulsive offer, he sent up a silent plea that the custody suit would be settled in record time. Between the child and the woman, they’d turned him every which way but loose.

Tense and edgy, Zane parked the car in Jillian’s driveway.

Casey bounded out of the backseat, mitt in hand. “Can we play catch,now,Zane? Huh? Can we? Can we?Now?”

Zane looked into those big, brown, puppy-dog eyes. Then he glanced at Jillian. Her lovely face wore the same hopeful expression. What the hell had he gotten himself into? “Ah … I don’t think we have time. Don’t you have to take a nap or something?”

Jillian unlocked the front door. “No problem. The world won’t end if we postpone nap time for an hour.” She scooped up a softball from the porch and flung it toward Zane. The ball missed by a mile, and he had to chase it down. She laughed. “Now you know why I’m no help.”

“All right!” Clutching his mitt, Casey tore across the lawn and crouched in front of the pine tree. He pounded his miniature fist into the mitt. “‘Kay. I’m ready.”

Zane tugged down the back of his shirt to more securely cover his Beretta before taking a stance ten feet from Casey. A lazy bumblebee droned past. Sunshine glinted off the emerald lawn, the thick grass beneath his feet emitting a lush, earthy scent, mingling with the piquant fragrance of Jillian’s newly-planted flowers.

“Get ready. Here it comes.” Zane tossed a slow pitch.

Casey flinched, ducked, and covered his head with both hands. Then he peeked out from between his arms, his small, wary face etched with dejection. “Don’t yell. I didn’t mean to. I’ll do better next time, honest.”

“Relax, kid.” Zane clapped his hands. “Throw it back to me, and we’ll try again.”

He lobbed three more easy pitches, and Casey reacted the same way. Finally, Zane moved closer. “Let’s try it from a shorter distance. Unless you want to stop now?”

The little boy cocked his head. “How come you’re not mad?”

The unwanted image of himself as a terrified six-year-old burned across his brain. Zane took a deep breath. He juggled the ball from hand to hand. “Because when somebody is scared, getting mad isn’t the right thing to do. You can’t help how you feel. It’s okay to be scared. And you’re trying really hard, that’s the important thing. Someday, you won’t be afraid anymore.”

Casey’s somber gaze raptly studied him. “No lie?”

“No lie. Ready to go again?”

Casey nodded and Zane sent over another careful lob.

At the last minute, Casey swiveled the wrong direction, and the ball smacked him in the shoulder. “Ow!”

Zane’s heart stopped. For a long moment, he froze in shaken horror.

Those who don’t learn from history are condemned to repeat it.

Then he rushed to the child, taking him gently by the arms. “I’m sorry. God, I’msorry,Casey. Are you hurt?”

“He’s fine,” a sardonic male voice drawled from behind him. “The little wimp excels at whining.”

Zane turned and saw a tall, sandy-haired man standing at the edge of the driveway in front of a pristine white Porsche.

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