Accidental Father

Chapter 3

With her nerves bouncing around like jumping beans, it was difficult for Sarah to keep her features composed. The last time this man said he wanted to talk, she’d had a home she could escape to. Now she was trapped.

Lifting Kylie out of the booster seat, she grabbed a napkin and mopped the worst of the ketchup from her daughter’s hands and face. Then she sent Kylie running to Aunt Ruby so she could finish the job with a washcloth.

Sarah brought her gaze back to Jake. He looked disappointed that she’d sent their daughter away, but that’s the way it had to be. She wanted to know him a lot better before he spent more time with Kylie.

“You wanted to talk?” she reminded him. Scooping up Kylie’s toys, Sarah stuffed them into the tote bag, glad to have something to do with her hands.

“Yes,” he said, adding building blocks to her tote. “I need a favor.”

Sarah glanced up in surprise.

“I didn’t plan on asking you until I saw you sitting back here,” he added.

“What kind of favor?” she asked warily.

“I picked up a young runaway a few minutes ago—barely fifteen. Her idiot boyfriend dumped her outside of town. Jeannie’s putting together a lunch for her, but all the girl has are the clothes on her back, and they’re in bad shape. She needs something decent to wear.”

Then…this conversation wasn’t about Kylie? Were all of his questions the other day idle curiosity, and not the threat she’d thought them to be? Had she overreacted?

“Maggie’s helping her get cleaned up and giving her the standard orange jumpsuit for now, but the girl’s parents are on their way. She shouldn’t have to face her folks dressed like a criminal.”

Finally seeing where this conversation was headed, Sarah hid an enormous sigh of relief and nodded in complete agreement. “No. No, she shouldn’t. If we’re about the same size, I’m sure there’s something in my closet—”

“Thanks, but all I’m asking for is a few minutes of your time. I need someone to shop for her.”

He took a sheet of paper from his breast pocket and unfolded it on the table. And without warning, the detailed signet ring he wore on his strong, capable right hand sparked a memory that brought a flush to Sarah’s face. In his haste to be rid of her panties that night, his ring had caught on them and they’d torn. But she hadn’t cared…and Jake hadn’t known.

Sarah pushed away the image and jerked her attention back to his face. But in glancing up so quickly, she caught a flash of heat in his eyes—something he obviously hadn’t intended her to see—and she swallowed. Was this the way chemistry worked? she wondered. One lover had a thought…and the other automatically received it?

Clearing his throat, Jake got back to business. “Maggie listed the sizes for me, but shopping for a young girl isn’t my strong suit. Would you mind? Maggie’s not feeling well today, or she’d do it.”

Nerves still thrumming, Sarah nodded. Like Kylie, this young girl had once been some mother’s toddler, some mother’s joy. Sarah hoped that if Kylie ever needed help someone would step in for her. But after buying the clothing, she’d have to deliver them, and that made her uneasy. They didn’t need more contact with these disturbing undercurrents between them.

Jake stood and pulled several bills from his wallet.

“You’re taking care of this?” she asked. “You personally?”

“Yep.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because she’s a nice girl beneath the attitude, and she needs them.” He handed her the money. “Try to find her something soft-looking.”

Sarah tingled as his gaze fell to the light pink sweater that topped her jeans, then lingered a bit longer than necessary.

“Something like you’re wearing,” he continued. “It has to dull the impact of a dyed-black Mohawk and a dozen earrings.”

Jeannie called to him from the lunch counter and raised a take-out bag, and Jake called back that he’d be right there.

He swept back his hair and tugged his hat on. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and Sarah felt that tingle again.

“Glad to help.”

Just then, Kylie raced back to them and hurled herself onto Sarah’s lap. Her face was clean and glowing, and looking at her brought back the anxiety Sarah had momentarily forgotten. Who wouldn’t want this child for his own?

“We won’t be long,” she said, standing and taking Kylie’s hand. “We’ll drop the clothes off at your office.”

“Great,” he said, then bent down to grin at Kylie and tap her nose with his fingertip. “Bye-bye, funny face.”

Giggling, she jabbed a tiny finger right back at him. “You’re a funny face!”

Sarah’s heart nearly stopped. Then to her relief, Kylie’s father waved, collected his order and left.

She didn’t move again until she was sure he’d stepped off the wooden boardwalk outside and headed for his office. Then she reclaimed Kylie’s hand, paid her bill and left, conflicting emotions stirring her up again.

On one hand, that silly, nose-tapping moment was a frightening thing. On the other, she’d just watched Kylie interact with her daddy, and it had evoked feelings of tenderness and warmth she’d never expected.

She would tell him. As soon as she was absolutely certain that Jake Russell was father material, she would tell him.

But what would he do with that knowledge? she wondered.

She wondered something else, too, as they walked the boardwalk, passing restored 1890s storefronts and stone buildings that recalled Comfort’s early days as a booming gold and cattle town.

She wondered about his generosity in paying for the girl’s clothes. She’d learned some things about him the night he’d let his guard down…the night they’d made love. In some respects, she knew more about Jake than she’d known about her own husband. Certainly, Vince had never opened up to her emotionally. Was helping a young girl Jake’s way of repaying a kindness done to him when Jake was the young runaway?

Or had there been no one there for Jake…and he wouldn’t see another child do without the things he’d needed?

When she arrived at the jail thirty minutes later, Sarah hoped that Maggie Dalton would be the one to greet her. Just approaching the door had made her anxious again. But it was Jake who stepped out from his private office as she entered. And Sarah was helpless to stop the shivery attraction that raced through her. He wasn’t just good-looking. Jake Russell was everything it meant to be heart-stoppingly, breathtakingly male.

“Did you lose your little helper?” he asked, taking the package she offered.

“Just for a while,” Sarah replied, faintly guarded again. “She ate most of her lunch, so I told Ruby she could have ice cream.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly—just more recently accomplished than he had to know. The closer they’d come to the sheriff’s office, the less inclined Sarah was to bring Kylie with her. “Your change is in an envelope inside the bag.”

“Thanks.” Jake fished out the envelope. “Can I ask one more favor?”

“I guess.”

“Would you mind delivering the clothes? Maggie’s in the lockup with her, and I think there’s some girl talk going on. They’re in the last cell.”

Sarah felt her jaw drop. “You locked up a fifteen-year-old girl?”

“No,” he answered, his brow creasing in annoyance. “She needed some privacy, and I gave it to her. Why are you always so quick to believe the worst of me?”

Shamed, Sarah met his eyes in apology. Before she could make amends, the door to the lockup flew open and crashed against the wall. Maggie rushed out, holding a hand over her mouth and heading for the rear of the office. A second later, a thin teenager with a terrified expression came out after her.

The girl’s defiant green eyes shot to Jake. “I didn’t do anything! We were talking, and she just jumped up and ran!”

Sighing, Jake shook his head and went to her, his rangy frame dwarfing hers. She looked waif-thin in the baggy orange jumpsuit. “I know you didn’t do anything. Maggie’s just a little under the weather today. Come on, I want you to meet someone.”

The girl obviously had no interest in being cordial. Nevertheless, she let Jake nudge her to the dispatcher’s desk where Sarah waited. “Lisa, this is Sarah Harper. Sarah picked up some clothes for you. Sarah, Lisa Sheldon.”

The girl’s belligerent gaze never left Sarah’s face, though she spoke only to Jake. “Why would she want to buy me clothes? She doesn’t know me.”

Sarah extended the bag. “The sheriff paid for them, Lisa. I just picked them out. Maggie gave him your sizes.”

She cut a look at Jake. “Yeah, well I can’t pay you back. Bryan took all of my money.”

“I’m not asking you to repay me.” Sarah didn’t miss the brief chill in his eyes that said “Bryan” wasn’t one of his favorite people. “I just want you to look nice when your mom and dad get here.”

“Oh, I’ll look lovely.” Without mousse or gel, her hair parted in the center and hung on either side of her shaved scalp. “They’ll kill me when they see this.”

“I doubt that,” Jake replied.

“You don’t know them.”

“I know your mom cried when I told her you were safe. Give them a break. These past two months haven’t been a cakewalk for them, either.”

The girl was silent for a moment, then she said, “My mom cried? Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, how about trying on your new duds?”

When Lisa had disappeared into the lockup, Sarah’s gaze returned to Jake. His treatment of the young girl had touched her. There’d been no coddling or threats—just kind, straight talk. Now, more than ever, she owed him that apology.

“I’m sorry about what I said before. I had no right to make assumptions like that.”

Jake nodded grimly. “We only know each other in one way, Sarah. I’m more than what you see.”

More? If he were any more than what she saw, she’d be running right now. Without his hat to keep them back, a few strands of black hair fell over his forehead, softening his craggy good looks and calling her attention to his deep blue eyes and tanned cheekbones. Below that was a perfect mouth and teeth, and just enough beard shadow to make her remember its sexy scratch against her skin. The man was a mating song in boots.

“Have coffee with me sometime,” he persisted, keeping his voice low. “Let me prove it. I’m not looking for anything more than friendship and conversation.” But the memories swirling through his eyes seemed to belie his words.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?

“Because it was friendship and conversation that got us into trouble three years ago,” she returned.

“That was different. That was comfort and support.”

“No, it was sex. And you and I both know that once you cross a line, it’s too easy to cross it again. I don’t want that.”

The toilet flushed, reminding them that they weren’t alone, and though Jake’s gaze hardened, he didn’t reply. Possibly because he knew the conversation had gone as far as it could go. A second later, Maggie came out of the rest room looking pale.

Some friend she was, Sarah thought. Just looking at Jake had blown everything out of her mind except him, including Maggie’s illness.

His voice lowered in concern when she joined them. “You all right, Maggie?”

“No, but I’m better.”

“Sure you don’t want to go home?”

“Not yet,” she said, working up a smile. “Let’s see if it gets better.” She turned to Sarah. “Hi. What brings you in?”

“Shopping,” Sarah answered, smiling. “I bought the clothes for your young guest.”

“Oh?” Maggie looked at Jake. “I thought you were giving the list to one of the salesclerks.”

His features froze for a moment, then he answered. “I was, until I ran into Sarah. The salesclerks at Hardy’s are nice, but they’re all older. I figured a younger woman would pick out something more appropriate.” He frowned and glanced at his watch. “Excuse me? I need to make a phone call.” A moment later, he was gone.

Sarah held back a sigh. She didn’t know if she should feel relieved or disappointed. But she couldn’t have answered him any other way.

She spoke to Maggie, who’d taken a seat at the dispatcher’s desk. “Are you okay?”

With a humorous twist of her mouth, Maggie reached into a low drawer and produced a long tube of crackers. “Actually, I think I might be a whole lot better than okay.”

“How nice!” Sarah said with a smile, recognizing the signs.

“I haven’t seen a doctor yet, but I’m pretty sure. Got any room left in your quilting class at the Grange hall? I think it’s time I learned which end of a needle to thread.”

“You bet. When’s the baby due?”

“March, I think.” Maggie’s grin spread. “Ross and I were planning to wait to start a family, but it looks like we had a head start on this little one before the wedding.”

“Does the sheriff know?”

“Not yet, but I have to tell him. I hate leaving him high and dry, but I can’t stay on. Ross and I talked. Comfort’s hardly crime-ridden, but things do happen occasionally, and I won’t risk my pregnancy.”

“I’d feel the same way,” Sarah agreed. “Have you picked out names yet, or is it still too early?”

“It’s still too—” With a frantic look, Maggie shot to her feet again. Seconds later, she was back in the rest room, leaving Sarah to sympathize and remember her own morning sickness. The morning sickness she’d gone through alone.

When she picked up Kylie several minutes later, she felt good about Lisa Sheldon’s future, yet faintly uneasy about Jake’s distant behavior. Which made no sense to her at all, since she’d practically asked him to keep his distance.

Why did she feel she’d let him down? Was it reflected guilt? Did she subconsciously feel that withholding the truth about Kylie from him entitled Jake to something else?

Sarah put Kylie into her car seat and climbed behind the wheel. The man scrambled her mind and made every nerve in her body vibrate. If she slept tonight, it would be a miracle.

Tossing and turning, kicking the covers to the foot of the bed, Jake cursed a blue streak and tried to find a comfortable position on the lumpy mattress. He couldn’t believe he was paying someone to stay here. A bedroll on concrete would’ve been more humane. Every few seconds, the Twirling Spur’s neon cowboy boot flashed under the too-short drapes, striping the carpet with fluorescent orange, and adding to his misery.

Vaulting from the bed, he snatched the alarm clock from the nightstand. Three-forty? Could that be right? He plunked it back down and pulled his hands over his whiskery face. Between the bed, the boot and fantasies about Sarah Harper, he didn’t have a prayer of getting any more sleep tonight. Not a prayer.

But, he thought hopefully after a moment, there was a foldaway cot in his office, and if Deputy Joe Talbot wasn’t in it, he might be able to sleep for an hour or two before his shift started at seven. If not…well, he could review applications for a deputy to replace Maggie. She’d phoned him earlier in the evening to tell him about her pregnancy.

Orange light flashed across his bare feet.

And flashed.

And flashed.

And flashed.

Jake clenched his teeth and headed for the shower, masochistically picturing the comfortable beds Sarah had to have in her pink house.

By the time he’d swung his Mountaineer into his parking space, doused his headlights and hailed Joe Talbot, who was just pulling away from the office, Jake’s mood hadn’t improved much. Probably because he’d had to drive past Sarah’s home with its welcoming glow and pretty candle-lights in the windows.

His burly blond deputy called to him through the Jeep’s open window. “Something going on?”

“No,” Jake returned with a rueful smile. “Just can’t sleep.”

“Still no rooms in the paper?”

“A few houses for sale, but I’m not ready for that yet.”

“Well, the cot’s free,” Joe called with a sympathetic grin, and eased off the brake. “I’m just making rounds. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“See you then.” With a wave to Joe, Jake got out, unlocked the door and let himself inside. He wasn’t on the cot long when a ridiculous thought that wouldn’t go away had him calling himself an idiot and rolling to his feet again.

Jake tore through the files behind the desk out front, found nothing, then berating himself even more, went to the back room where old files were stored. He’d never done anything like this before. It was stupid, and sappy and sophomoric. But he couldn’t stop himself.

A few minutes later, he was staring hard at the police photo in his hand. What in hell had Sarah ever seen in this guy?

The cocky grin and pretty-boy features that stared back at him reminded Jake of the young studs the girls from his old high school used to go nuts over. Lots of rock-band hair and more brass than the New York Philharmonic.

He scanned the accompanying description. Vincent Charles Harper had been a white male, five foot eleven, with sandy brown hair, no distinguishing marks and…