Best for the Baby

by Ann Evans

  But while such unorthodox behavior wasn’t at all like the old cautious Alaina he’d grown up with, there was no way in hell she’d end up in some jail. Not even in a backwater town lockup like Lake Harmony’s.

  Damaris caught his attention by splashing more water at him. He turned his back, speaking low into the phone. “What’s the deal, Russell? What’s going on up there?”

  “Told you. She busted into your place. There’s glass everywhere.”

  Russell’s words made Zack draw in a sharp breath. This was surreal. A beautiful naked woman swimming right below him. Alaina in jail. “Is she all right?”

  “Aww, ain’t that sweet?” The deputy chuckled, and Zack thought his tone had become almost gleeful. “Why would you still care? I heard you two broke up after high school, and she married someone way out of your league.” When Zack didn’t respond, Whit continued. “I tell you, man, you got lucky. She’s not the pretty little thing she was back in the old days. She’s a mess. I almost didn’t recognize her.”

  “Was she alone?”

  “No accomplices that I could see.”

  “Is she all right?” Zack repeated, more sharply this time.

  “She is for now. Fit enough to pay for what she’s done. I’m going to book her. Judge Larabee comes through tomorrow, and by noon we’ll have her moved to the county jail over in Dahlonega. Spending a little time with the real lowlifes ought to take the Priss out of the Miss.”

  “What are you charging her with?”

  “Breaking and Entering for starters. Whatever else I can come up with. After the way we parted company years ago, I’m not predisposed to go light on her. Considering the fact that she ended up slamming the door in your face, too, I wouldn’t think you’d feel any different. Right?”

  Zack heard the challenge in the deputy’s voice, the deep-rooted, petty meanness that had often been Whit Russell’s downfall as a boy.

  His mind went back over two years, to the day he’d sat in a hotel coffee shop and listened to Alaina tell him that she was going to leave her husband, Gil. Working in Key West with Maggie, Zack hadn’t seen her for a long time. From everything Maggie had told him about that dry-as-dust marriage, Alaina wasn’t losing much, but it was still too late for them.

  He’d told her that if she wanted to leave her husband, if she wanted to find a way to make her life count for something, more power to her. But she’d have to do it on her own. He wasn’t going to play the knight-in-shining-armor role for her any longer. He was through.

  When he’d said that, he’d honestly meant it. Loving Alaina had been too hard. Too hurtful. He’d had to find some way to eradicate her from his heart, and a quick, clean cut seemed best.

  He’d done just that. She no longer had any hold over him.

  Taking Zack’s silence for uncertainty, Whit made a derogatory sound into the phone. “Oh, man. Don’t tell me you’ve still got the hots for her? Don’t tell me to turn her loose. That you’re not going to press charges.”

  A weird blend of protectiveness and irritation spiked through Zack, but just as quickly he crushed it. He held no bitterness toward Alaina. He’d figured out a long time ago that he had to put their past behind him or it would do him in. So involving himself with her again, no matter what fix she had gotten herself into…well, that would be a monumental lapse of good judgment.

  He knew with sudden clarity what he had to do. He pushed out a long sigh. “No,” he said firmly to Nit Whit Russell. “No, I’m not going to tell you to turn her loose. You caught her. You keep her.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  FOR A WOMAN WHO’D SPENT the first thirty years of her life as a by-the-book rule follower, Alaina found it a huge shock to be sitting in a jail cell, surrounded by olive-drab concrete walls, harsh lighting and no windows. Lake Harmony’s jail wasn’t exactly Alcatraz, but it wasn’t designed for comfort, either.

  She figured she’d been locked up about eight hours. She was cold. She’d had nothing to eat. She was exhausted, but couldn’t imagine trying to sleep on the lumpy cot that pretended to be a mattress. In one corner were facilities for taking care of personal business, but even the simplest accommodations she’d shared with Jeffrey during their travels had looked like the Taj Majal compared to the inhospitable stainless steel.

  Jail.

  With real bars and the faint, chilly smell of desperation in the air.

  It was humiliating. Scary. It made Alaina want to cry or retch or both. But she’d be damned before she’d let Nit Whit Russell think he had her on the ropes. Maybe this was an all-time low, but she still had some pride left.

  In fact, it was time to make a fuss again.

  Late last evening, Whit had hauled her into the sheriff’s office and delighted in taking her watch along with her backpack. Then he’d dumped her unceremoniously into the cell. At regular intervals throughout the night, she’d rattled the bars and yelled down the corridor until Russell had come through the cell block door and warned her to pipe down. She could just see him if she pressed her cheek against the iron, but she’d been gratified to note that every time he came within view, he’d seemed a little less poised and a lot more annoyed.

  Good.

  She hoped he was tired of dealing with her. Enough that he’d be reasonable about all this and let her go. If not…

  She didn’t want to think about what a petty tyrant like Russell might do.

  Alaina leaped up from the cot and went to the bars. She shook them hard, but kicking had brought better results, so she whacked them a few times with one booted foot. What she wouldn’t have given for one of the tin cups that made such a racket in those old prison movies.

  “Russell!” she yelled. Her voice bounced around the corridor. “Russell, I know you’re out there. Get back here and open this door! You’ve made your point.”

  There was nothing but silence for a few long moments. She knew he was still there. Whit had told her that any time they had a criminal locked up, someone had to spend the night on the office couch.

  Criminal. As if he had somehow managed to snag Bonnie Parker, and Clyde might try to spring her. Alaina hoped he hadn’t found a moment’s peace on the sheriff’s old sofa.

  Feeling her temper start to rise again, she pounded the bars. From the outer office she heard the sound of a door opening, then closing. She strained to hear. Maybe Nit Whit had gone out for breakfast, or to bring her back something to eat. Her stomach felt queasy and unsettled, but she was hungry, too.

  A few seconds later, the sound of someone flipping through early morning television programs drifted back to her.

  Damn him. He was determined to make her miserable. Did he intend to let her starve while he watched Good Morning, America? That would be just like him. He hadn’t changed a bit since the last time she’d had to deal with him, at age sixteen.

  “Whit Russell,” she shouted, remembering at the last minute not to use his nickname. “I’m warning you. I know my rights. The Constitution says—”

  “I know what the Constitution says,” Whit’s muffled voice hollered back. “And here’s what I’m saying. Shut up! I’ve had about all I’m going to take from you.”

  “Good! Then come back here and let me out. I was a guest of the Davidsons’ every summer for eight years. I’m like a daughter to them. Do you think they give a damn about one broken window that I fully intend to pay for? They’ll have your badge for daring to treat me this way!”

  Again there was no response.

  Frustrated, Alaina plopped back down on the cot. She rubbed her stomach, wondering what consequences all this stress might have on her baby. Nothing good, she’d bet. She ran her hands up and down her arms, wishing she could lower her pride enough to ask Russell for a blanket.

  Her head jerked up as she heard the cell block door open and close, then footsteps.

  Alaina rushed to the bars. “It’s about time. Tell me you’ve finally come to your senses.”

  She nearly gasped aloud. The man coming down the cor
ridor wasn’t Whit Russell.

  It was Zack Davidson.

  She wondered if she looked as shocked as she felt. Her eyes must be as big as lunch plates. Had to be. The situation had suddenly gone from bad to worse.

  He came right up to the bars. She swallowed hard because she knew there were some mistakes in your life you could never fix, and this was one of them.

  Two years ago, right after she’d decided to walk out of her mirage of a marriage, she’d sat across from Zack Davidson and witnessed the death of their friendship, the most treasured one she’d ever had, next to her friendship with her sister, Maggie. Since that night, Alaina had seen him only once: at Maggie’s wedding to Will Stewart. Zack and Alaina had kept their distance as much as they could, polite and civil for the sake of the newlyweds.

  But now, here he was, standing right in front of her. The man she’d once loved with all her young heart. The man whose love she had so foolishly tossed away.

  Alaina’s breath caught in her throat as her entire body tensed. Their gazes connected, and she realized that she couldn’t step back from the bars, because the cold steel between her hands might be the only thing holding her upright.

  He had always been good-looking, and nothing had changed much since she’d seen him last. In high school he’d exuded a raw, masculine sexuality made even more attractive by the fact that he didn’t seem to know it. The passage of time had chiseled away the boyish softness to create hard, precise planes and angles in his features. There were a few more lines around his eyes, but he was still tall and darkly handsome.

  The silence had gone on too long, and Alaina rushed to fill it as Zack’s brown eyes scraped over her. Her cheeks were probably candy-apple red with embarrassment, but she refused to dissolve under the weight of it.

  “Where’s Russell?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as unnerved as she was.

  “You’ve pissed him off so much that he’s agreed to give us a few minutes alone. He thinks that somehow I can get you to behave.” The ghost of a smile lifted Zack’s lips. “I didn’t tell him that I’ve never had that kind of power over you.”

  “Is he going to let me out or not?”

  “I can’t imagine why he would. He says you’ve done nothing but berate him since you got here.” Zack cocked his head, as though seeing her for the first time. “Do you think it was wise to call him a power-hungry little weasel?”

  She grimaced, feeling vaguely chastised. “I suppose not. But he’s acting like a complete jerk about this. He hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “No, I can see that he hasn’t.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  There was a slight pause. “He called to tell me the cottage had been broken into.”

  “He promised he wouldn’t.”

  “When has that idiot ever been true to his word? He couldn’t wait to let me know who he’d caught.”

  Frustrated, she shoved a hand through her tousled hair, knowing she must look like hell. “This is all so ridiculous. I just needed a place to get out of the rain. Someplace to rest a little while. I wasn’t going to run off with the Davidson family silver.”

  “I guess Whit thought you looked like a real desperado.”

  She could feel anger making her jaw twitch. “I told him I would make arrangements to pay for the damage. He didn’t have to lock me up. You know he only did it for spite.”

  Releasing a long sigh, Zack crossed his arms. “Actually, I’m the one who told him to keep you locked up.”

  “You?” Alaina gripped the bars even tighter. “Why would you do that? Do you hate me that much?”

  “I don’t hate you,” he said calmly. “I just couldn’t believe what Russell told me. So I caught the first flight up here just to discover for myself what kind of trouble you’ve managed to get yourself into.”

  Alaina lifted her chin. “So now you know.”

  Zack shrugged. “I don’t know much of anything. But I’m willing to listen.”

  “Your mother would never make a big deal about this,” she told him, defiance in her tone. “And your father—”

  “Dad had a heart attack and died last spring.”

  His words left her speechless for several seconds. Zack’s dad had been such a robust, salt-of-the-earth kind of guy. The sort of man people looked up to and admired. Zack, especially, had idolized his father. He must be devastated.

  She knew that no words could make a difference, but she had to try. “I’m sorry, Zack,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t know.”

  “No reason why you should.” His tone was brisk, and knowing him as well as she had, she heard the silent message. He didn’t want to talk about it. “From what Maggie tells me,” he added, “you don’t get in touch very often.”

  “Probably not as often as they’d like,” she admitted. A sudden, horrible thought occurred to her. She looked up at him sharply. “Nit Whit didn’t call my parents, did he?”

  “No.”

  “And neither did you, right? Please tell me you didn’t.”

  Zack gave her a look that was full of disappointment. “Don’t you think they’d want to know?”

  “I contact them as much as I can. They know I’m doing fine.”

  “Yeah. You look fine.”

  She gave him a sullen glance, then wheeled away from the bars to perch on the cot.

  Panic threatened to send her thoughts scattering like a flock of crows. If Zack had called her parents, they’d come riding to her rescue. Full of good intentions, but making everything so much worse. When her sister had shown up pregnant and unwed at nineteen, they’d almost lost their minds, and she’d been the wild child in the family. Now with Alaina—once so sensible and willing to do whatever she’d been told—in the same boat…? Oh God. Disaster.

  The silence spun out. She didn’t look up at Zack, but she sensed that he hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a second. He must think she was completely nuts, landing in a fix like this.

  “I know they’d only want to help,” she agreed, drawing a deep breath. She swallowed hard. Morning sickness reared its ugly head, and she could feel it trying to take hold in her twisting stomach. She didn’t need that, either. “But please tell me you haven’t called Mom and Dad.”

  “I didn’t call them.”

  “Thank you,” she said, with such relief that the words came out a mere whisper.

  “Only because I couldn’t. Your parents left on a two-week cruise a couple of days ago. Maggie and Will and the kids went with them, too. Some big family celebration.”

  “To the Mediterranean?”

  Zack’s brows came together in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Not long before I left Miami, Mom was talking about the next family vacation. She said she wanted to see the Greek Isles before she got too old. Dad said he’d make that happen. That Maggie and I would go, too. Mom’s birthday is next week.” Alaina grimaced at Zack. “I guess they decided not to wait any longer, and went without me.”

  To her annoyance, she felt tears sting the back of her eyes. In spite of the promise she’d made to herself—to get out from under the thumb of anyone who tried to tell her how to live her life—she couldn’t deny that she missed her parents and sister. Maggie’s daughter Amy would be ten by now, and her son Brandon no longer a baby. Did her little nephew look like his father? How strange it seemed not to know the details of her own family.

  As though sensing her thoughts, Zack said softly, “An occasional postcard isn’t keeping in touch, Al. Do you have any idea how much everyone in your family worries about you?”

  “I know. But I have to keep our conversations brief. If I don’t, everyone ends up crying and begging me to come home.”

  “When did you decide home was such a terrible place to be?”

  “When I finally realized that I didn’t have a home. All I really had in Miami was a pretty prison. First with Mom and Dad, and then with Gil. My entire life was spent making people believe I was someone I didn’t w
ant to be anymore, and I was just so sick of it.”

  He took a cursory glance around the cell. “Well, it looks to me like you’re not much better off now. Care to tell me how this happened? I know why you were arrested, but since when did you start roaming the countryside by yourself? What’s happened to lover-boy?”

  His brittle tone irritated her. She seesawed up to her feet, giving him a sour look that matched the taste of bile in her throat. “His name is Jeffrey, and where he is right now is none of your business. Either press charges and let Nit Whit throw the book at me, or drop them so I can get out of here and be on my way.”

  He scowled. “Maggie said you’re different now. I’m not sure I like this new Alaina Tillman.”

  “Too bad,” she said, tossing her head and placing her hands on her hips. “Because I didn’t like the old one very much.”

  Pointing toward the white bandage wrapped around her wrist, Zack asked, “What happened there?”

  She slipped her hands into her jeans pockets. “I cut it on the broken glass. It’s nothing.”

  “You look like hell.”

  “Does that make you happy?”

  “No,” he replied, his glance cool. “Why should it?”

  “I know what you think of me. It must have been really difficult, having to be nice to me at Maggie’s wedding.”

  “You don’t know anything. And considering our past, I think a certain degree of discomfort for both of us was understandable.”

  The outer door opened, and Whit Russell moved into the corridor. He looked belligerent. “Time’s up, Davidson!” he called.

  Alaina’s heart thumped wildly in her chest as Zack made a move to leave. She rammed one hand through the bars and caught the edge of his jacket. “Zack, please. Get me out.”

  He stared at her a long moment, but didn’t try to remove her fingers. Her stomach rolled again unpleasantly. She wanted desperately to believe she could see his indecision floating between them like a fog.

  He shook his head. “If I don’t press charges, you’ll walk out of here and disappear to God knows where.”