“Come on, sweetie, let’s sit up and see where you banged your head,” she said, hoping there wasn’t any blood. She wasn’t overly squeamish, but—Bracing herself, she helped him to roll over and sit up, then she literally breathed a huge sigh of relief when she got a look at his face. There was a lot of tears and snot, but no blood.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Jaclyn said gently, brushing his hair back to see if there was a knot on his forehead.

Upon hearing her voice, and realizing that it was not his mother or grandmother who had come to his rescue but was instead a stranger, the kid squalled even louder.

Did she really want one or two of these? Jaclyn thought as she rose to her feet and backed away to allow the mother, who was very calm given the volume of the scream, to take her place. There were no small children in Jaclyn’s life; she had no brothers or sisters and so no nieces or nephews. If this was what she had to look forward to, maybe she was better off getting a gerbil. Or a fish.

Which was a very sad thought. Screams or not, that wasn’t the way she wanted to live the rest of her life.

The mother checked the child’s mouth, nose, and head, as if she’d completed this particular check a thousand times, and maybe she had. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and wiped away the snot. The kid kept screaming, to which his mother responded with a gentling shush. She didn’t seem to be worried, so Jaclyn figured she could stop worrying herself.

And then a familiar voice behind Jaclyn said, “What are y’all doing, skinning that kid alive?”

She went rigid, and the hair on the back of her neck lifted in horror. Oh my God, what was he doing here? If he questioned her in front of clients, if he was here to actually arrest her, she’d … she’d kill him, and then he’d have a real reason to slap on the cuffs.

Instead of grabbing her hands and cuffing her, he brushed by her, crowding so close in the aisle she had to step back and even then she could smell him, momentarily feel his warmth. He crouched down beside the screeching little boy, brushed back his jacket so that his big black gun was visible along with the badge clipped to his belt, and ruffled the kid’s hair with his big hand. “Looks like you had a spill.”

The kid momentarily stopped screaming, distracted by this big man he didn’t know. He saw the gun and the badge, and his eyes got big. He gave a big sniff and nodded his head. His mother shot an assessing look at Eric, then made a lightning decision and stood, stepping back out of the way. She was just a mother; how could she hope to compete with the enticement of a real gun and a shiny badge?

“Is that real?” the kid asked, pointing at the gun.

“Sure is. The badge is real, too.”

“Bad boys, bad boys,” the kid started singing. Not bad. He could carry a tune, even if he was only four. His lip started trembling and tears welled in his eyes again.

“You come for me?” he asked in an anguished tone. His mother clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“No, I only come for bad boys, and from what I can tell, you’re one of the good ones.” Eric ruffled his hair again. “Brave, too. Looks like you’re gonna have a lump on your noggin. If you’re going to play rough, you have to learn how to protect yourself.”

“But how?”

Eric stood up, but put his hand on the kid’s little shoulder. “Let me think about this.” Then he said in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I see you’ve got some football fans in your family.”

Some of the men barked on cue. The kid nodded, and together he and Eric looked to the altar where half a dozen men stood around, waiting for the rehearsal to resume. “I’ll bet you one of them would be happy to buy you a helmet just your size, so the next time you take a header you’ll be protected. Are you going to be a football player when you get bigger?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Eric said. “You’re tough. I bet you could play running back, because that’s a tough position.”

“Quarterback!” the kid said indignantly.

“You’re kidding? You’re going to play quarterback? Man, that’s really tough. You definitely need a helmet for that.”

The little chest was puffed up with pride, the tears gone, the lower lip steady. One moment he was screeching as if he’d been scalded, and the next, all was well.

She was not going to thank him. Yes, Eric had provided a distraction when one was needed, but it wasn’t as if anything dire had been going on.

The groom promised to buy the kid a football helmet, and said he could wear it to the wedding tomorrow night. That wasn’t exactly the picture Jaclyn had of an elegant wedding, but it wasn’t her wedding, it was theirs. If they were happy, that was all that mattered. She’d get all the kids football helmets if that was what they wanted.

“Is something wrong?” the mother of the bride warily asked Eric.

“No, everything’s fine. I’m a friend of Jaclyn’s.”

Oh, really? Jaclyn clenched her jaw against the retort that bubbled up. The M.O.B. glanced from Jaclyn to Eric, smiled a little, and left them alone.

The wedding party returned its attention to the matter at hand, the rehearsal. They were already running late, because they’d been having too much fun, and they weren’t going to make it to the restaurant in time for their reservations if they didn’t pick up the pace a lot.

Jaclyn moved forward a little, got everyone lined up in the correct order, and picked up where they’d left off. She felt Eric move closer, standing right at her back like a rock. She got an itch between her shoulder blades, as if he had drawn his pistol and held it pointed at her. A nightmarish vision swam in front of her eyes: Was he going to question her here? Or worse, arrest her in front of her clients?

But he just stood there, cool and calm, watching the rehearsal. The minister had everything well in hand, at the moment, so there was nothing more for Jaclyn to do but be present in case she was needed. The previously rambunctious children had, at their mother’s insistence, taken seats on the second pew, where they sat whispering and swinging their legs.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, fiercely resentful.

“I heard a cry for help and was duty-bound to investigate. Serve and protect, that’s the deal.”

That wasn’t what she’d meant and he knew it.

He didn’t haul out the handcuffs or his little notebook, so she relaxed a little. If he wanted to ask her more questions, it looked as if he intended to wait for the rehearsal to be over, so he wasn’t going to embarrass her. If he’d come to arrest her, he wouldn’t be waiting. Probably.

Dammit, she hadn’t done anything wrong, she thought bitterly, but she was paying a price anyway! Yes, if anyone asked her she’d have to say the world was a better place without Carrie Edwards in it, but that didn’t mean she was a murderer. And right now she’d love to have Carrie back for just a few minutes, so she could give her a real piece of her mind and tell her everything she’d thought but held back during the long months of dealing with her.

When the rehearsal was over, she walked away from Eric without looking back or saying a word. She said her good-byes to the bride and the bride’s mother, and reminded everyone of the time they’d be meeting tomorrow night. She’d already made her excuses for skipping the rehearsal dinner, and the way the bride and her friends were staring at Eric, they probably thought he was the real reason for skipping the meal.

As if.

As members of the wedding party started to leave, Jaclyn turned to see if Eric was standing there twirling his cuffs like the villain in a Saturday-morning cartoon. He wasn’t there. Shocked, she looked around, but didn’t see him anywhere. For a stupid, giddy moment she was hit with mixed relief and disappointment. She pushed the disappointment away and concentrated on the relief, but that still left the question of why he’d been there at all.

She was the last to leave, except for the minister, who locked the big sanctuary doors behind her. He would let himself out through the back door, where he was parked, after he’d made certain the church was buttoned down for the night. She paused at the top of the steps, taking a quick look around.

There were still a few cars in the parking lot, others just now pulling onto the street. The happy couple was getting into his red pickup truck, which came complete with Bulldog stickers and flags. No surprise there, she thought. A few parking spaces away sat one bridesmaid’s Toyota; she was taking a moment to refresh her lipstick, while another bridesmaid, sitting in the passenger seat, chattered away. These were happy people, Jaclyn thought, and lucky people. So what if they took their football obsession a bit too far? In the scheme of things, that was nothing. What mattered was that they enjoyed their lives, they didn’t hurt anyone else, and tomorrow they were going to have one great big party.

The minister’s car was still there, of course, and her Jag—and Eric’s car was parked right beside hers, but he wasn’t in it. No, he was leaning against her Jag, easy as you please, just as he’d been that morning, a bunch of papers rolled up in his hand.

Jaclyn took a deep breath and walked toward her car, her spine straight and her heart pounding. She’d love to tell him off, to rip into him and vent all the frustration and anger that had been eating at her all day, but she couldn’t. He wasn’t just Eric Wilder, one-night stand gone wrong; he was Detective Eric Wilder, and ripping into him might land her in jail.

At any other time, the satisfaction might be worth the risk, but not this week; her schedule was just too hectic.