Her Baby's Father

by Rebecca York

  “I’ve passed it and wanted to go in.”

  “The food is good, and the prices aren’t high.”

  She leaned back, ordering herself to relax as she slid her eyes toward Jack, watching him put the car into gear and head down the driveway.

  It was amazing to be sitting so close to him again. Amazing that they had this time together. In fact, she felt like every second was a gift from God.

  The interior of the car was filled with his scent, so dear and familiar to her. She watched his strong hands as they clasped the wheel, somehow keeping herself from covering the closer one with her palm. She ached to touch him. Kiss him. Do all the things that she’d thought she’d never do again. Now he was tantalizingly within reach.

  Of course, he wasn’t aware of any of her longings. For him, this was their first meeting.

  He turned right, out of the development where the lots were supersized and the custom-built houses vied with each other for presence.

  They were at the far edge of the county, and she hadn’t thought about the route to Ellicott City until Jack turned onto a major cross-county road.

  Route 108.

  Familiar scenery sped past. She tried to place it, then drew in a quick breath.

  “Sorry, I guess I’m going too fast,” Jack said, completely misinterpreting her reaction.

  “You’re fine,” she managed to say, but her mind was racing and her chest felt like it was being constricted by heavy bands.

  She knew exactly where she was. This was the stretch of highway where she’d slid down the long hill in the snow. Where she’d hit the pickup truck and…what?

  She couldn’t say for sure what had really happened. Would it happen again? Now?

  Was this what fate had in store for her? A cruel joke? A few minutes with the man she loved—then blackness.

  “No,” she whispered.

  Reacting to the alarm in her voice, Jack looked toward her, just as a car rounded the curve ahead, passing another vehicle illegally and coming straight at them.

  Chapter Three

  Sara grabbed the handhold above the door.

  “Watch out.”

  Jack swore under his breath, his attention snapping back to the road as he yanked the wheel, moving them to the right so that he hugged the edge of their lane. When the car remained on their side of the road, he honked the horn and muttered, “What is that fool doing?”

  Slowing their speed, he bumped onto the shoulder. Sara wanted to close her eyes. Instead she couldn’t take her gaze from the other car. Leaping back to its own side of the road, it passed them with inches to spare, but Jack was already too close to the edge of the shoulder.

  The right-hand wheels were skimming the margin of the gravel now, and he was having trouble steering.

  Looking to the right, Sara saw a steep hill with a creek at the bottom.

  Her heart was in her throat as she braced for the long slide down. Like last time, but different. Beside her, Jack was still fighting to avoid disaster, slowing their speed and struggling to stay off the hill. Somehow he managed to keep the vehicle mostly on the shoulder. When he had enough traction, he swung back onto the center of the shoulder and stopped the car.

  She gave him a grateful look. “Thank goodness. You’re a heck of a driver.”

  “You mean good or bad?”

  She felt a nervous laugh bubbling inside her. “Good, of course.”

  Swiveling around, she looked behind her. If I’d been driving, we’d be down there in the creek.

  He was the only thing that had saved them this time. Last time she’d been here, she’d been alone.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, as he pulled back onto the road.

  “How was that your fault?”

  “I distracted you,” she said, thinking that one of the questions circling in her mind had just been answered. Everything wasn’t happening exactly as it had the last time. The first time around, there had been no near accident on the way to dinner.

  Was that a bad sign? Or was it actually good? What if nobody was after Jack now?

  She wanted that to be true, so much, but she couldn’t count on it. Not when whoever was trying to kill him before had been so totally relentless.

  Tempting as it was to relax her guard and just enjoy being with Jack, that wasn’t a smart idea.

  She glanced at him and saw his brow wrinkle. “That’s right. You gasped. Just before that guy rounded the corner. But you couldn’t see him coming, could you?”

  “No.” She scrambled for an explanation and came up with something plausible. “A woman I knew had an accident here. She was killed.” Saying it out loud sent a shiver through her. But it was the truth. Well, not the friend part. Sara Carter had been killed here. Or would be killed, unless she could change her fate—and Jack’s.

  “That’s rough. When did it happen?”

  “Last winter.” She swallowed. “I knew her pretty well.”

  “And seeing the spot where she died brought it back.”

  “Apparently. But I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  “I understand.”

  “Because guys you knew in Afghanistan were killed?”

  He stiffened. “How do you know I was in Afghanistan?”

  “You’re a war hero.”

  “I’m no hero,” he said in a hard voice.

  She wanted to tell him that she knew otherwise. Before getting wounded, he’d saved the lives of two men on patrol by pulling them back to safety, while under enemy fire. His act of bravery had earned him a Bronze Star. But telling him things about himself wasn’t a good idea. She’d have to wait until they came up when he got to know her better.

  They were both silent for several minutes. The accident hadn’t happened before. Neither had this conversation. Or driving past the very hill where she’d been killed. Or would be killed. It was still hard to sort out the references to past and future.

  She shook her head.

  “What?” Jack asked.

  It seemed so natural then to reach out and cover his large hand with her smaller one, to press her palm against his knuckles.

  “I get nervous every time I pass this place,” she murmured. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t thinking about the route we were going to take.”

  “I get nervous in thunderstorms,” he answered. “The thunder is like being in battle.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I have to deal with it.”

  Reluctantly she took her hand away.

  Switching to a different subject, he asked, “How did you get into the business of…staging houses?”

  “My mom had an antiques shop in Ellicott City.”

  “Which shop?”

  “Well, antiques and…weird stuff. She called it Past Is Prologue.”

  “I remember it. I used to wonder what was in there. But it’s closed now?”

  “Yes. She died a couple of years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and she realized they’d said that twice now.

  “I miss her.”

  “You have brothers and sisters?”

  “No. My dad…” She should tell him what had happened to her father, but she simply couldn’t make herself do it. Not yet. “He left us on our own.”

  “Rough.”

  “We managed, but we didn’t have a lot of extra cash. At least it taught me to be frugal. I was making a lot of my own clothes by the time I was in middle school.”

  He was probably thinking about how different her life had been from his, even though they’d grown up in the same Maryland county. It was one of the wealthiest in the country. She just hadn’t gotten much advantage from that.

  “How come you didn’t want to run the store?” he asked.

  “I saw what kind of hours she kept, and I didn’t want to be tied to a shop all the time. But I loved arranging the merchandise. And picking up items at estate sales and auctions. Then when I was home from college on summer vacation, a real-estate agent I knew asked if I could stage
a house for her with some of the merchandise from Mom’s shop. I agreed. She liked what I’d done and recommended me to her friends. I haven’t done any advertising. My business comes from word of mouth in the real-estate community.”

  “Which means you’re good at what you do.”

  “I hope so.”

  He took the scenic way into town, the long hill that wound down through restored houses, even a couple of log cabins, to the commercial area where Main Street was confined by the sides of the river gorge.

  “Did your mom’s shop get caught in any floods?” Jack asked.

  “A couple of times. Everybody did in the old days. Until we had some serious flood control on the river.” She pointed down the hill. “Genevieve’s is near the train station.”

  He continued down the narrow street toward the stone building that had been the first terminus of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad and was now a museum.

  Parking in the old mill town was always at a premium, but Jack found a space not far from the restaurant.

  It was getting dark. Darker down here in the river valley, and Sara told herself not to be nervous as she got out of the car. Still, she was remembering that something bad had happened when they’d come out of the restaurant the first time around.

  But this wasn’t even the same town.

  Still, she was on the alert as they strolled along the sidewalk. And she breathed out a little sigh as they stepped into Genevieve’s.

  It was owned by a husband and wife team, Patrick and Laura Walsh, both in their early forties. Laura was the chef, and Pat manned the front. They had owned a restaurant in New York City and had come to central Maryland to find a less hectic way of life.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while,” Pat said when he spotted Sara. He was a slightly overweight man who obviously enjoyed his wife’s cooking.

  “I’ve been busy. But I’m happy to be here now. What’s good tonight?”

  “Laura has a yen for spring cuisine. She’s got a killer asparagus soup. A spinach salad to die for. Lamb kebabs. But you should sit down and look at the menu.”

  He led them to a quiet table in the back where Jack winced as he sat down.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He looked like he wished she hadn’t asked, but he said, “I was wounded in Afghanistan. The leg gives me some trouble. And don’t say you’re sorry.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, let’s not make that the word of the day.”

  He grinned at her. “Wine would help. One glass, and I’ll still be okay to drive.”

  They had already exchanged a good deal of information in the car. At dinner they each ordered different dishes and had a taste of the other’s selection. Sara got the asparagus soup and lasagna, and Jack ordered the spinach salad and the shish kebab, all of which were excellent.

  They kept the conversation light, discussing music they liked. She already knew his tastes, but it was fun talking to him about the Eagles, Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac.

  Still, she felt tension gathering inside her as the meal drew to a close. She was waiting for two things–one of them good and one of them bad.

  They were finishing a shared piece of key lime pie when Jack looked at his watch. “It’s after ten. You probably need to get some sleep.”

  “I guess dinner woke me up. And the conversation. I was enjoying myself.”

  “Me, too. But I’d better get you home. Especially since you have to drop me off first.”

  “Right. I wasn’t thinking about that,” she lied. Of course she was thinking about it.

  “Or I could call Ted.”

  “Don’t bother him. Well, unless you live in the next county.”

  “No. My address is actually Ellicott City. But not the old part.”

  After he’d paid the bill, she felt a stab of disappointment. Last time…

  Instead of standing up, he leaned toward her.

  “I was thinking about your job.”

  Her pulse started to pound.

  “It’s not so different from an interior decorator,” he continued.

  “Not exactly,” she felt duty bound to say.

  “But close enough.” He cleared his throat. “Morgan Enterprises is planning to move to a new building. I was wondering if you might be interested in doing some of the decorating for us.”

  She dragged in a breath, then let it out. “I’m overwhelmed. That’s a dream job for me. But are you sure the company would go along with it?”

  “It’s my decision.” He laughed. “They’re trying to get me more involved. I’ll tell them what I saw that’s unique in your work, and why I think you’re the right person to hire.”

  “Okay. Then yes.”

  “You haven’t even asked what we’re paying.”

  Because she already knew. She laughed. “Oh, right. What?”

  He named a figure that would have made her blink if she hadn’t heard it before.

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “If you don’t have to work tomorrow, I can show you what we need done.”

  “As far as I know, I’m free tomorrow,” she answered, feeling light-headed. She’d been afraid it wasn’t going to happen, but he’d asked her to work with him—which meant that they would be seeing a lot of each other.

  “I’m glad that’s settled.” He stood, and she did, too.

  He glanced around. “It looks like we’re closing up the restaurant.”

  As they walked through the almost-empty establishment, she was thinking that the other test was coming up.

  Patrick said goodbye and held the door open for them. Then they were on the street.

  Sara kept her eyes open and her ears peeled for trouble. As they approached the car, she breathed out a little sigh.

  It wasn’t the same.

  She stole a glance at Jack as he reached to open the car door. She knew his expressions, and the look on his face told her that he was thinking about kissing her.

  Which was fine with her. She’d been hoping for something like that all evening.

  Then everything changed in an instant as a man stepped out from behind a parked car. A man holding a gun.

  Chapter Four

  Jack had spent the most enjoyable evening in recent memory, and he was thinking that it was only going to get better.

  Then, in one of those terrifying moments that could change everything, a man with a gun stepped toward him. A guy about average height, with thinning dark hair.

  Caught off guard, Jack grappled with the seismic shift, but Sara was already moving. From beside him, she leaped forward, swinging her purse like a bolo, using the strap that had held it on her shoulder. The heavy leather bag hit the man square in his pockmarked face, wringing a shocked exclamation from his lips.

  As the purse dropped, he whirled toward Sara, his eyes fierce, his mouth bloody, and the gun pivoting in her direction. But Jack was already springing forward, plowing into the guy and knocking him backward against the fender of the car.

  The man straightened and tried to retaliate with a head butt. But Jack dodged aside, making the guy lose his footing. Taking advantage of that, Jack stomped on the man’s gun hand. He screamed as the automatic went flying across the sidewalk.

  A gun had made the guy brave. With the deadly weapon suddenly yards away on the sidewalk, his face became suffused with panic. In a desperate move, he reared at Jack, throwing him backward so that he landed against the exterior wall of the restaurant. With the breath knocked out of him, he struggled to stay on his feet, but his bad leg gave out from under him, and he toppled onto his butt, hitting the sidewalk with a teeth-rattling impact.

  As the man dived for the gun again, Sara thrust out a foot and kicked the automatic off the curb and under a car.

  “Bitch.” The man’s face was a study in anger, his hands curled into claws. Jack’s fear leaped into his throat, but as he struggled up, the man apparently decided to cut his losses. After one more angry look, he whirled away and ran, disappearing around a cor
ner.

  His own anger boiling over, Jack started after him, but Sara darted forward, grabbing his arm and holding him back.

  “Don’t.”

  He tried to wrench away, but she held fast.

  “Let him go.”

  Rage had fueled his aggressive instincts, but he knew that he had little chance of catching the guy. Not when his running speed had been cut substantially by his injury. Plus the attacker probably had mapped out an emergency escape route before the attack.

  Still, he was torn between imperatives.

  The door of the restaurant burst open, and Patrick stepped out, his gaze landing on them. “I heard a scuffle. What happened?”

  “A guy tried to rob us,” Jack answered.

  “I don’t know,” Sara mused.

  Jack turned toward her, seeing the indecision on her face. “You don’t think it was a robbery? I mean, what else could it have been?”

  She looked torn. “He didn’t ask for our money, did he?”

  Jack laughed. “I guess he didn’t get a chance to. You hit him in the face with your purse.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s right,” she conceded.

  “Fast thinking.”

  “I took a self-defense course.”

  “Don’t they advise you that it’s better to give up your wallet than get shot?”

  “Yes. But I just…you know…” She raised one shoulder in a helpless gesture.

  “I’m going to call the police,” the restaurant owner said, pulling out his cell phone and dialing 911.

  Sara looked shaken.

  Jack reached for her, pulling her into his arms, feeling her tremble.

  She whispered his name in a way that made it sound like they’d had a whole lot more shared experiences than just what had happened today.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I am now. I was so scared.”

  “But you didn’t lose your cool.”

  She nodded against his shoulder, clinging to him, wrapping her arms around his back and pressing close.

  Holding her in his embrace was wonderful. And he had the odd feeling that it wasn’t for the first time. There was a familiarity about her that sent a wave of contentment—and longing—through him. He wanted her, even when he knew that letting her get close to him could lead to disappointment.