The kiss had done funny things to her body

Jessie tried to blame those funny things on the pregnancy, but she knew it wasn’t her condition causing it. This was some kind of spooky attraction to a man she knew she shouldn’t be attracted to. There was just one problem. She didn’t know how to make it stop.

“Are you all right?”

She didn’t realize she’d been staring at him. And there was certainly a lot of him to stare at. Jeans, worn white in places she wished weren’t so obvious. A blue cotton shirt that showed nearly every muscle the man had.

“Have you felt the baby move?” He reached out and placed his hand over her abdomen. It was probably a mistake, but she looked at him again. Their gazes met. Held. That unwavering, almost pleading look in his eyes caused her breath to stall in her throat.

It was his child….

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Welcome to a brand-new year of exciting romance and edge-of-your-seat suspense. We at Harlequin Intrigue are thrilled to renew our commitment to you, our loyal readers, to provide variety and outstanding romantic suspense—each and every month.

To get things started right, veteran Harlequin Intrigue author Cassie Miles kicks off a two-book miniseries with State of Emergency. The COLORADO SEARCH AND RESCUE group features tough emergency personnel reared in the shadows of the rugged Rocky Mountains. Who wouldn’t want to be stranded with a western-born hunk trained to protect and serve?

Speaking of hunks, Debra Webb serves up a giant of a man in Solitary Soldier, the next installment in her COLBY AGENCY series. And you know what they say about the bigger they come the harder they fall…. Well, it goes double for this wounded hero.

Ann Voss Peterson takes us to the darkest part of a serial killer’s world in Accessory to Marriage. The second time around could prove to be the last—permanently—for both the hero and heroine in this gripping thriller.

Finally, please welcome Delores Fossen to the line. She joins us with a moving story of forced artificial insemination, which unites two strangers who unwittingly become parents…and eventually a family. Do not miss His Child for an emotional read.

Be sure to let us know how we’re doing; we love to hear from our readers! And Happy New Year from all of us at Harlequin Intrigue.

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

His Child
Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force Top Gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jessie Barrett—Someone wants her dead. Jessie’s only hope is Jake McClendon—the biological father of her unborn child. But will the prominent Texas rancher help a woman he’s never even met?

Jake McClendon—Texas rancher turned politician. Could he trust Jessie—the mother of a child he desperately wants, but thought he could never have?

Abel Markham—Jake’s political opponent. A man with more ambition than ethics.

Douglas Harland—Jake’s brother-in-law and campaign manager. He wants nothing—including Jessie—getting in the way of the campaign.

Willa Harland—Jake’s socialite sister. Is she overly protective of her brother—or does she have a different reason for wanting Jessie out of his life?

Detective Byron DuCiel—Jessie’s best friend. Does he have his own personal agenda, or is he truly trying to help Jessie?

To my husband, Colonel Thomas Fossen,

who encourages me, inspires me

and makes sure I keep my sense of wonder.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter One

Jessie hid in the shadows and waited for him. By now, Jake McClendon probably thought she was dead. He wouldn’t be expecting her or the Saturday Night Special she had gripped in her hands.

He was in for a real surprise.

Not only was she still alive, she was here, armed and in his hotel suite. No guards or restraints to stop her now. One way or another, she would get answers.

The doorknob rattled, and she heard voices in the hall. So he wasn’t alone. Sweet heaven, could nothing go right? Jessie softly groaned and ducked behind the thick brocade drapes. She’d still be able to see him by looking in the mirror over the fireplace, but she wouldn’t confront him until the other person left. Best not to draw anyone else into this.

Pulling in a hard breath, she leaned back against the cool glass of the balcony door. It didn’t ease the throbbing in her head, nor did it loosen the muscles that burned in her shoulders and back. Her body was a tangle of nerves and spent adrenaline. The bone-weary fatigue didn’t help, either. She’d been fighting off the effects of exhaustion for hours now.

Or had it been days?

God, she didn’t even know how long it had been since she managed to escape from that warehouse. For that matter, she had no idea how long they had held her captive. All she knew was that the person responsible was about to come through that door. He would answer for what he’d done to her.

“It wasn’t smart to insult him.” The man pushed open the door and issued that crisp remark over his shoulder. “You need him and his clout.”

Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, she saw his blond hair. Definitely not Jake McClendon. McClendon’s photographs were standard fare in the local newspapers. There was no shortage of publicity shots for the Lone Star State’s golden boy and congressional candidate.

McClendon walked in behind the other man. “I can do without that kind of clout.” He had already removed the tux jacket and was working on the tie. He tugged at it as if it were fighting back.

Jessie’s eyes narrowed. Finally. She was in the same room with the man who wanted her dead.

“You’re wrong.” The blond man again. His name was Douglas Harland, Jessie remembered, and he was married to McClendon’s sister. “You need Emmett.”

“And how about his wife?” McClendon tossed the jacket onto the sofa and shoved a hand through his short coffee-colored hair. “Do I need her, too? She thinks a campaign contribution obligates me to sleep with her.”

“So? Consider it stud service.” The corner of Douglas’s mouth hitched. “You knew there’d be things about this campaign you wouldn’t like.”

“I don’t like any part of it.” McClendon shrugged and undid the top buttons of his shirt. “I want to be in the Texas Legislature. That doesn’t mean I want to sleep my way there.”

McClendon moved to the fireplace, just beneath the mirror, where Jessie could easily see his face. A face that reflected none of the evil inside him. Deeply tanned skin. Sharp angled cheekbones, a legacy from his Comanche grandmother—something the press often mentioned. His brows slanted downward, making his expression a natural frown. His mouth was rigid. But not stern. Under different circumstances she might have considered him good-looking. Even handsome.

But it wasn’t different circumstances.

McClendon was the enemy, in every sense of the word.

He was taller than she’d expected. Over six feet. Lean. Built like the cowboy he was underneath the polished elegance of the tux. A real wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“You’ll just have to accept this stud status of yours,” Douglas continued, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Women want to heal your wounds because you’re a widower. It’s a chick thing.” He glanced down at his watch. “We need to get back before we’re missed.”

It seemed as if he was about to answer, but then McClendon went still. Perfectly still. And much to Jessie’s horror, he looked straight in the mirror. She tried not to move a muscle, even though he would probably see her reflection if he glanced at the curtains.

“Go ahead back to the party,” he finally said. “I’ll be down soon. I just need to make a few calls.”

Jessie allowed herself a quiet breath of relief. So, he hadn’t seen her. She wouldn’t have to reveal her hand while the other man was still in the room.

Before Douglas Harland even issued a “don’t be long” and closed the door behind him, McClendon went to the bar and poured himself a drink. He took the shot in one gulp, then slapped down the glass. In the same motion, he tipped his head toward the curtain. “Mind telling me what you’re doing behind there?”

Jessie went board stiff. There had been nothing in his body language to indicate he’d noticed her.

“Well?” he snarled. “I’m waiting.”

She stepped out, using her forearm to push the curtain aside so she wouldn’t have to lower the gun. For a moment she just stood there and sized him up. Jessie swallowed hard. In a hand-to-hand battle, she would lose. Big time. It wasn’t just his size; it was his street-wise expression. He’d won his share of fights. More, no doubt, than she had.

“How did you know I was here?” Jessie asked.

“Lucky guess,” he said, sardonically enough for her to understand that he had indeed seen her in the mirror. “What do you plan to do with that gun?”

Jessie glanced at it and then him. “It’s my insurance. To make sure you listen to what I have to say.”

“Then, by all means go on—say it. Then get the hell out of here before my brother-in-law comes back to check on me.”

Yes, him. Jessie hadn’t considered that he might come back anytime soon. But she should have. She should have anticipated all the contingencies. She cursed the fog in her head. Because of it, she was already a step behind him.

There seemed to be nothing wrong with McClendon’s thought processes, however. His laser-blue eyes were clear and trained right on her. He seemed ready to strike.

“I want some answers.” She fought back a sudden wave of dizziness. Effects of the fatigue, maybe. And maybe something else. Jessie prayed she could stay strong long enough to finish this.

“So do I. I’d say I’m entitled to some, since you’re holding a gun on me. For starters, do I even know you?”

“I have reason to believe you do.”

“You want money, is that it?” he asked.

A soft burst of air left her mouth. Almost a laugh, but it was lathered with sarcasm. “Money doesn’t solve everything. Why did you have them come after me like that? Why me?”

“Why did I have them come after you? I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. I’ve never seen you before.”

“You didn’t have to see me to give the order for them to pick me up and take me to that warehouse.”

“Them?” He leaned against the bar and folded his arms over his chest. “Exactly who are you talking about?”

How dare he pull this act with her. “You know. You darn well know!”

“I don’t know, and you’ve got about five seconds to start explaining, before I call the cops.”

She waved the pistol, in case he’d forgotten that she was in charge here. For a man being held at gunpoint, he didn’t seem threatened or even nervous. She, on the other hand, was shaking, and her stomach was clenched tight. “There will be some explanations, and they’ll come from you. Why?”

“Why what?”

Jessie gave a frustrated groan. “Why me? Why did you have them do this to me? Why did you tell them to use me like that?”

“If you’ll tell me what you think I had them do to you, then maybe I can help you clear this up.”

“Why did you give the order for them to kill me and do those other things? Why would you want this to happen?” She shook her head in disgust. “What you had them do was sick.”

“Back up some. Who wants to kill you?”

Jessie frowned. “You!”

“Not me. Who?”

“Your hired help, then. Three men and a woman. I never saw their faces, but they chloroformed me and took me to that warehouse. They held me for, uh—what’s the date?”

He didn’t look as if he intended to answer her. He just stood there, the picture of intimidation. “It’s July sixteenth,” he finally said.

“July?” How could that be? Jessie pressed her fingertips against her temple, and her bottom lip started to tremble. She’d seen the date on the newspaper, of course, but it hadn’t registered until now. Suddenly, it all became much clearer. “Three months. They took me back in April.”

He shrugged. “And what exactly do you think these people did to you during these three months?”

“Things. And now I think I might be…” But the word stuck like wet clay in her throat.

“What? Lady, will you just spit this out so I can get you out of here?” he demanded. “What might you be?”

“Pregnant.” It left her mouth on a gasp. The room started to whirl in a black circle. Jessie leaned against the balcony door and let it support her.

“Pregnant,” he spat out, in the same way he did the profanity he uttered next. “This sounds like a personal problem to me. Why would you hold me at gunpoint just to tell me you’re pregnant?”

“Because—” She grabbed the drapes, but it didn’t stop her from sinking to her knees. The plush carpet broke her fall, some. “It’s your baby.”

LIKE HELL IT WAS.

Jake was one-hundred percent sure of that. He hadn’t been with a woman, any woman, in nearly a year. She was obviously some kind of strung-out nut. A stalker maybe. And definitely mentally unstable. There was no way he could be the father of her child, assuming she was even pregnant. That, too, could be the product of her drug-induced imagination.

Now he just had to figure out what to do with her.

Jake reached for the phone to call the police. Then stopped. He looked at her. Really looked at her. It was easier to do now, since she no longer had the gun pointed at him. He’d taken that from her as soon as she fainted. He had also moved her to the sofa. Why, he didn’t know. He should have gotten her out of there as quickly as possible. He should have turned this over already to the police.

He should have.

But for some reason, he hadn’t.

She wore an ill-fitting maid’s uniform that was several sizes too big for her rail-thin body. Obviously, the garment was something she’d stolen. Jake pushed her badly cut, midnight-colored hair away from her face and tried to remember if he’d seen her before.

Nothing about her seemed familiar. Absolutely nothing.

He’d never had sex with her—that was for sure. Since his wife’s death, there had been only a few women. Rare encounters that he could definitely count on one hand. She wasn’t one of those encounters.

Despite the clothes and the bad haircut, she was pretty. Well, she would have been if she hadn’t looked so ill. Her skin was pale, like skim milk. It emphasized the sprinkling of freckles on her slim nose. Maybe she wasn’t just strung-out, but sick. The bruise-colored smudges under her eyes and her parched lips said loads about her health. Or, if she hadn’t lied about her condition, then maybe the pregnancy had taken its toll.

Still, it was no skin off his hide. So what if the woman was pregnant?

It’s your baby.

No way was that humanly possible. Boy, had she picked the wrong guy to try to pin this on.

She stirred, moaning softly, and touched her fingertips to her forehead. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open. She squinted. Then, groaned. “No. Please not this. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

Jake frowned. She had to be talking about herself. Not him. He hadn’t decided if she was actually stupid. Or maybe she was just crazy. He intended to find out soon enough.

“How long before the cops get here?” she asked.

“I haven’t called them yet.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at her. “Let me tell you how this is going to work. I’ll ask the questions, and you’ll answer them. If the answers please me, I won’t call the cops at all.”

Wincing and mumbling, she sat up and scrubbed her hands over her face. “You’ll just kill me, then.”

Well, she was definitely crazy. “Right. Lady, I’m a congressional candidate, not a hired gun. No, I won’t kill you.”

“Then, what else could you possibly do to me that you haven’t done already?”

There was some fight left in her last question, making Jake rethink the sick theory. She was down but not out. Somehow, it made it easier for him to confront her. He hated to kick someone when they were down.

“I can have you arrested—that’s what I can do,” he informed her. “I think a breaking and entering charge and possession of a firearm will put you away for a while, don’t you?”

She ran her fingers through her hair. “Like I care about those piddly charges, when you want me dead. Why? Why did you have them do this and then order a hit on me?”

“Oh, no. We’re not going down that road again. I haven’t done anything to you—especially get you pregnant and order a hit on you. Now let’s go back to the part about me asking the questions and you answering them. For starters, exactly who the heck are you?”

“Jessie—”

She boldly met his gaze. Her eyes were the color of a gun barrel. Steely gray and just as hard.

“But you already know that.”

“Uh-uh. Don’t start that again. If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked. What’s your full name?”

“Jessie…Smith.”

He made an annoying sound like the buzzer on a game show. “Wrong answer. Try again.”

A muscle flickered in her sleek jaw. “Briggs.”

He didn’t believe her, but at least he had something to work with. It was certainly better than calling her lady. She was anything but a lady. “All right, Jessie Briggs, tell me why you think I’m trying to kill you.”

“I don’t know why, but you ordered those people to kidnap me.”

“People,” Jake flatly repeated. “The three men and the woman you mentioned? The ones who held you for three months?”

She nodded. “But you’re the one who hired them to take me to that warehouse. You had them use me, and—”

“Hold it right there. That’s the part I want to talk about now. Exactly how did they use you?”

She made a sound of outrage and bolted to her feet as if ready to tear out of the room. But she didn’t go anywhere. She pressed both hands to the sides of her head and sagged back down to the sofa.

“Dizzy?” he asked.

She tossed him a you think? look. “I guess it’s just one of the little joys of my condition.”

“Well, I suppose it’s time we broached that subject. Would you like to explain exactly how you think I got you pregnant? Afterward, I can blow anything you say right out of the water.”

“They inseminated me.” She didn’t even hesitate. “On your orders, I’m sure.”

Jake froze. That wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. All right, so he couldn’t blow anything out of the water just yet. He had to think about that for a moment. Then he discounted it. “That’s impossible.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll spare you the exact details of how they did it, but I know what happened to me. And so do you.”

He paused, reconsidered it. But discounted it again just as fast. There were holes a mile wide in her story. “Let’s suppose for a minute that someone did inseminate you. What makes you think I was involved in any way?”

Again, she didn’t hesitate. “Your name was on the vial they took out of that weird bucket. I saw it. I don’t think they meant for me to, but I did. They’d given me a drug, and I guess they thought I was unconscious. I wasn’t. Plus, I heard them mention your name.”

Yes, in her dreams she’d probably heard someone mention his name. “This is a real cartload of bull you’re telling me, Miss Briggs. What I can’t believe is that you had the nerve to come here with it.”

“Are you saying you don’t have semen stored somewhere?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“At Cryogen Labs right here in San Antonio,” she clarified. “That’s what it said on the vial, along with your name and the numbers 6837. I’m not an idiot, Mr. McClendon. I’ve read about your Hodgkin’s disease. I know you stored semen before you went into therapy. Do you deny that?”

So, she did know about his illness six years ago. It didn’t make him believe her story. It just meant she’d done her homework. “I don’t deny it, but what you couldn’t have read in the newspaper was that my vials were accidentally destroyed nearly four months ago. Only a handful of people know that.” He paused so she could grasp that. “Would you like to leave on your own, or do I need to toss you out of here myself?”

Her eyes widened for a second, and then narrowed just as quickly. “The number on the vial was 6837. Call Cryogen Labs and see if that matches what they say was destroyed.”

Oh, she was good. Really good. Coming up with the number of the vial was a nice touch, but it wouldn’t make him believe her. “I’ll call them in a minute—but first I have another question. Hypothetically speaking, let’s say someone did inseminate you. You’re sure you became pregnant?”

“I heard them say so, yes. I didn’t see the test results, but I’m having some symptoms that make me think they succeeded in what you wanted them to do.”

“You said they drugged you. Your symptoms could be from that.”

Her eyebrow rose sharply. “Not these symptoms. And they didn’t keep me drugged all the time, just locked up. They only drugged me when they did those, uh, procedures on me.”

He didn’t want to delve into that any further, not when he had so many other things to discuss. “Another hypothetical question, then. Why would anyone want to do this?”

“That’s what I want you to answer. Trust me, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. Maybe you wanted some surrogate mother and you didn’t want to go through the hassle of doing it the legal way.”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does if you didn’t want the publicity because of your campaign. Some people are opposed to surrogate pregnancies. You probably didn’t want to risk offending any ultra-conservative voters. This way, you could adopt the child and pretend you’re still a good guy who’s giving some orphan a chance to be raised by a millionaire rancher-turned-congressman. You’re the winner all the way around.”

Jake still didn’t believe her story, and that theory was just plain asinine, but he could definitely see this from a different angle. A much different angle. If, and that was a Texas-sized if, there was any truth to what this woman said, it could be a plot by someone out to get him. Suppose someone wanted to use the child to embarrass him or to hurt his campaign? Even in this day and age, conservative voters wouldn’t care much for a future congressman having an illegitimate child.

She raked her tongue over her bottom lip. “But something must have gone wrong, because I heard them say they were going to kill me. Thank God I was able to escape before they could get around to doing that.”

“They said they were going to kill you?” Jake repeated. “Well, that shoots holes in your surrogate mom theory, huh? Why would I go through all that trouble to inseminate you, and then kill you before I even knew for sure if you’re pregnant?”

“I don’t know. I told you, that’s why I’m here. I need answers.”

“Well, you came to the wrong place, lady. Let me correct that, you came to the wrong man. I’m not buying any of this, so why don’t we just cut to the chase and you spit out exactly what you want. Money up front? Or are you doing this for blackmail so you can drag out the payments for years? Because either way I don’t intend to give you a dime.”

She tipped her head to the phone. “Make the call to Cryogen Labs. Vial number 6837.”

Jake looked at the phone, and then her. “All right, I will.” It was about time he called her bluff. He walked across the room, using the mirror to keep an eye on her. “I don’t suppose you know their phone number?”

“No.”

“No,” he mimicked sarcastically under his breath.

Jake didn’t know what to make of that. A con artist would have known the number. A victim of the crime she’d just described wouldn’t. Of course, she could be a very good con artist who was pretending she didn’t know. There was only one way to find out.

He got the number from directory assistance and called the lab. Jake wasn’t even sure the place would be open, but someone picked up on the third ring.

“This is Jake McClendon. I wanted to verify some information about specimens I had stored there.” The woman who answered the call asked him to provide some identifying data. Once that was out of the way, he got down to business. “I need to know about the six vials I had in Cryogen Labs. I want to make sure they were indeed destroyed.”

“Oh, yes, they were, Mr. McClendon. Didn’t someone contact you about it?”

“They did.” He glanced at Jessie. She stepped closer and stared at him. Her eyes darkened like storm clouds. “Equipment failure, the person said.”

“I’m afraid all the samples in that particular tank were destroyed. You are eligible for compensation from our insurance carrier.”

He wasn’t interested in insurance. In fact, before today Jake hadn’t been interested in the vials at all. He’d stored them at Cryogen in case the treatment for his Hodgkin’s Disease left him sterile. Since it hadn’t, he had forgotten they even existed. Until he got that call four months ago.

“I need the vial numbers,” he explained to the woman.

“Certainly. I have that right here in the computer.”

He heard the clicking of her fingers on the keys, and made another spot-check on Jessie. Now she was looking around the room. For her gun, no doubt. She wouldn’t find it. Jake had wrapped it in a plastic dry cleaner’s bag and put it in the closet in the bedroom. Later, he wanted someone to check the weapon for fingerprints. That was probably the only way he would find out who she really was.

“Okay, here we are,” the woman finally said. “The vials were numbered consecutively from 6851 through 6855. As I said, they were all destroyed.”

So, there was no 6837. But Jessie Briggs had been damn close. Jake was about to end the call and confront his visitor, when he realized the numbers that the woman gave him only accounted for five vials.

“There were six specimens,” he pointed out.

“Oh, yes. I see what happened. The first vial was the one you originally gave us. The other five were collected later at your physician’s office and then transferred here.”

“And the number on that first vial?”

“Let’s see. That would have been 6837.”

The muscles tightened in his chest. Jake refused to allow himself to react beyond that. This meant nothing. There was a reasonable explanation. All he had to do was find it. “And where is that vial?” he asked.

“I’m afraid it was destroyed also.”

Not according to the woman in his hotel suite. But then, she was obviously a liar. Her story didn’t make a lick of sense. Nobody in his or her right mind would kidnap a woman, inseminate her and then try to kill her. Would they?

No. They wouldn’t.

He hung up the phone to confront his lying visitor. There was just one problem.

She wasn’t there.

And the door to his suite was wide open.

Chapter Two

Adjusting the plastic bag of groceries, Jessie cradled the phone against her shoulder and pushed the coins into the slot. Someone had scratched crude profanity into the black plastic box, and the mouthpiece smelled like dog’s breath. The phone company would not have been pleased. It didn’t exactly please her, either. She tried not to breathe too deeply, knowing the smell would turn her stomach.

She entered the numbers and waited. Not long. As she’d expected, he answered almost immediately. “Detective DuCiel.”

“Byron, it’s me.” Jessie tried to keep her vigilant gaze on everything going on around her. It was rush hour. A little past five o’clock. The traffic crawled down St. Mary’s Street. Horns honked. People hurried on the sidewalk. There was enough activity for her to get lost in the crowd, and she counted heavily on it. Getting lost was the only thing that made sense right now.

“Well, it’s about time you called. You said I might not hear from you for months, but I didn’t believe it.” The relief in Byron’s voice soon turned to a bark. “Where the heck are you, anyway? What happened? I was ready to—”

“I only have a few seconds. It isn’t safe to talk here.” It probably wasn’t safe anywhere, but Jessie didn’t say that.

“Where are you? I’ll come right now.”

“That wouldn’t be smart, for either of us. I just wanted you to know that I’m—” What? Not all right. She wasn’t all right by a long shot. “Alive,” she finished. “I’m alive.” And terrified. She wouldn’t mention that, either, even though Byron would almost certainly hear it in her voice.

“That, I can figure out myself. Why the heck haven’t you called me before now? Jess, it’s been three months.”

“It’s a long story. Too long to get into here. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“It’s about Christy, isn’t it.”

Just the mention of her friend’s name made Jessie’s heart feel tight and heavy. It was as if a fist had gripped it and wouldn’t let go. Christy had been dead eight months, and the pain was still just as fresh, just as raw as it had been when Byron had come by the apartment to tell her the news. The news that Christy wouldn’t be coming home, ever.

It was so strange. Even though she’d seen her friend’s body, it was still hard to believe Christy was dead. It was hard to believe Jessie would never again hear the laughter that had come so easily to the fun-loving woman that she considered a sister in every way that counted.

“You were asking too many questions about Christy’s death,” Byron concluded. “And someone didn’t like it.”

Maybe. And maybe it had nothing to do with Christy. Jessie just didn’t know. She didn’t have time to speculate out here in the open, where she was a sitting duck. That didn’t mean she was giving up on finding the person responsible for Christy’s death. She would never do that. One way or another, she would get to the bottom of it. It was a promise she’d sworn to Christy, and herself, the day of the funeral.

She pushed the painful memories away, knowing she couldn’t deal with them at the moment. “Listen, Byron, I can’t talk much longer. I need some money, but I’m afraid I’ll be spotted. I want you to do it the way we talked about before I left Austin. Transfer all of it.”

“All of it? Jess, what’s wrong? Let me come and get you right now. Or better yet, go to the nearest police station.”

Jessie ignored that advice. “Please do the money transfer and work out some travel arrangements. I need to disappear for a while. It’ll take—what? Two days? Three?”

“If I do it the way you wanted, it’ll take three. I’ll have to cover my tracks.”

She didn’t tell him how much that scared her. Three days of hiding out. Three days of praying they wouldn’t find her again. “I’ll pick up the money at the location we discussed. I also need you to check out a warehouse here in San Antonio. And be careful. I don’t know the exact address, but it’s on Isom Road, near the airport. It’s sandwiched between two old brownstone buildings.”

“What happened there?” he asked. “Why do you want me to check it out?”

“Just see if you find anything unusual—but don’t go in there alone, Byron. It might not be safe. Also, I’d like for you to lean a little on my former employer, Ray Galindo. See if anyone was asking about me at the cantina before I disappeared. I’ll call you again when I can.”

“No!” Byron shouted. “Talk to me now. Go to the local cops—”

“I can’t do that. If I tell them everything, you’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

“To heck with that. You go to the cops. You get yourself some protection.”

“Maybe—”

“There are no ‘maybes’ about it.”

Jessie took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll go to the San Antonio police, just as soon as I have the money.” And maybe during those three days, she could figure out exactly why someone wanted her dead. “I don’t want to put my neck out that far unless I have some way to hide afterward.”

She hung up the phone, ignoring the shouts and profanity from the one person she considered her friend.

Jessie didn’t know what was going on, but she wouldn’t bring Byron into this. Not yet. It definitely wasn’t the right time to tell the San Antonio police, either. She didn’t believe they could stop what Jake McClendon and his hired help had already put into motion. They couldn’t save her. She was on somebody’s hit list, and all the cops in the state of Texas probably couldn’t stop it.

Jessie pulled the black Spurs cap lower on her forehead and started toward the motel. Such as it was. She had been able to retrieve some money—the cash from a locker she’d rented at a bowling alley. But staying at a more comfortable place might put the wrong people back on her trail. That’s why she’d chosen the downtown area, and not the north side where the kidnappers had originally found her. Maybe, just maybe, the change of location would help keep her alive.

The accommodations didn’t matter much to her, anyway, and they were temporary. In three days she would have to leave San Antonio. No doubt about it. Staying would be a mistake, and she’d made too many of those already.

One of the biggest mistakes had been going to Jake McClendon’s hotel. Now that she’d shaken off some of the effects of the fatigue and adrenaline, she wondered what had possessed her to do something that incredibly stupid. Breaking into a suite in one of the ritziest hotels on the San Antonio Riverwalk. Holding a gun on a man like him. And with all those risks, she hadn’t accomplished a darn thing—something she should have realized in advance.

What had she expected him to do? Admit to everything? Yeah, right.

Instead, she should have spent that time trying to figure out why all of this had happened to her. Of course, two days of thinking about it hadn’t produced any answers—but eventually something had to make sense. The surrogate pregnancy plot was still her first bet, if she could just figure out why McClendon had changed his mind and decided to kill her, instead.

She checked for the small dot of lipstick on the doorknob of her motel room. Still there, and in the same spot, to indicate the knob hadn’t been touched. It was an inexpensive way to detect intruders, but it wasn’t the only thing she’d added. The small door alarm she had purchased from a discount store hadn’t been tripped. Once inside, she closed the door and quickly reset the alarm.

Jessie turned on the lights and set the groceries on the foot-wide counter of the kitchenette. In this case, the kitchenette consisted of a broken microwave oven, a small fridge, and a counter with a warped top.

Home, sweet home.

A dump, actually. It was a lot like the places she’d lived as a kid. The once-white paint on the walls was now dingy yellow. Shag carpet. A shade of green no one made anymore, or wanted. The shag had been pressed flat and had probably been that way for at least two decades.

She laid her purse aside and took the things from the plastic sack. Some grapes. A small carton of milk. And a box of sugary corn flakes—the only thing in the bunch that she actually wanted to eat. The rest was so she could have some semblance of a balanced meal.

Jessie handled the last item in the bag as if it were a bomb that might explode in her hands. A home pregnancy test. She eyed it and the food again. She didn’t know which she dreaded more.

She read through the instructions for the test and peered at the small vial that was enclosed for a urine sample.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she mumbled.

It wasn’t exactly the size of receptacle that would make collecting a specimen easy, but she went into the bathroom and made do. When she came back out, she slipped the vial in its little plastic stand and placed it on the scarred night table. She set the timer on her watch for ten minutes. And waited to see if a little blue circle would form in the bottom of the tube.

The first minute crawled by.

Jessie refused to think beyond this test. First, she had to get the results. She’d go from there. Go where exactly, she didn’t know. She was sure there were rules to this game, but she didn’t know them. Heck, she didn’t even know the name of the game.

“Don’t scream,” the voice warned.

She didn’t, because her throat snapped shut. She knew that voice, knew who it was without looking behind her. Jake McClendon.

Jessie instinctively scrambled toward her purse, but it wasn’t on the table where she had left it. Frantically, she looked around. It was gone.

Dangling her purse on his finger, he stepped out from behind the closet door. In his other hand, he had her gun, the one she’d just bought the day before.

“You must have a whole arsenal of these things stashed away,” he calmly remarked, making sure she saw that the gun was now unloaded.

She wished for an arsenal, though it probably wouldn’t have done any good. He no doubt would have found others, as well. The man had the instincts of a cop, even if he didn’t look like one. No tux today, but he wore fashionably tailored navy slacks. Expensive, certainly. And so was the shirt that was almost the same lapis blue as his eyes.

He tossed the gun and purse onto the bed and tipped his head to the vial. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see the results, too.”

“Actually, I do mind.”

“Tough. I’m staying.”

That didn’t come as a surprise to her. “How did you find me?” Even more important questions were, How much did he know? Did he know who she was? And what did he plan to do with her? He might just decide to kill her on the spot.

“When you left my hotel room without saying goodbye, I sent out my security people to follow you. I’ve had them watching you for the past two days, but I decided it was probably time we had a little talk.”

Resources. The man had resources and money. Jessie had underestimated just how quickly he would be able to use those two things to locate her. “You didn’t trip the alarm.”

“No. The lipstick on the doorknob was a nice touch, though. Most people go for a strand of hair or a piece of thread. Not you. But then, from what I’ve learned about you, you don’t do things the usual way.”

Jessie put some starch in her posture. She would need all the composure she could marshal to get through this. And maybe even then, she wouldn’t be able to talk him out of killing her.

“You can just get out.”

“I don’t think so. You started all of this when you came to me, remember?”

“A mistake. Now get out.”

“Or what? You’ll call the cops, huh?” He sat on the edge of the bed, the rusty springs creaking under his weight. “I think the cops are the last people you want to call. Tell me what you meant by all that junk you spouted in my hotel room. Why did you think I was trying to kill you?”

Jessie considered lying. Maybe she could convince him she was schizophrenic or something. Instead, she decided to say nothing. She eased into the cracked vinyl padded chair across from him.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” he asked. “Or do you think I’ll just go away if you don’t talk to me? Think again, Jessie. A woman breaks into my hotel room, holds a gun on me and then accuses me of trying to kill her. Oh yeah, and of getting her pregnant. Hard to do, since I’ve never laid eyes or, for that matter, laid anything else on her.”

“Then, if you know that, why don’t you just leave?”

“I will when I get you to admit all of this was part of a blackmail scheme. You came to my hotel to extort money from me.”

“No.” She looked away, but he lunged off the bed and got right in her face.

“You thought you had everything figured out, didn’t you?” His tone went from angry to abrasive. “You did your homework and found out about my Hodgkin’s Disease. You learned all about Cryogen Labs. And your scheme might have worked if the vials hadn’t been destroyed. That’s the part you didn’t know, the part you couldn’t have known. Cryogen kept that under wraps to avoid negative publicity.”

“Now will you get out?” she asked.

“Not yet. You had your say, and I want mine. Care to guess what I found out when I had you investigated?”

That got her complete attention. She forced her expression to stay calm. Well, she forced it as much as she could, considering that her heart was about to pound right out of her chest. “What?”

“That you’re not really Jessie Briggs.”

Her false composure slipped a considerable notch. She had to escape. But how? She didn’t think he would let her out of his sight this time. Besides, he probably had his thugs waiting outside for her. “Just who am I, then?”

He didn’t say anything for several moments. “You’re nobody. You don’t even exist. Don’t you think that’s odd? In this day and age, there are absolutely no records for a Jessie Briggs who comes even close to matching your description. No driver’s license. No social security number. Nothing. And trust me, if there had been something, my people would have found it.”

She didn’t dare breathe easier yet. She could tell from the gleam in his eye that he had a trump card left to play—and that card might get her killed.

“Care to know what I did next?” he asked, slowly enunciating each word.

“No.”

He ignored that and continued. “I had the fingerprints checked on your gun.”

She slowly met his icy-blue stare. God, this couldn’t be happening. How stupid could she have been to go to this man in the first place? She knew how dangerous McClendon was, knew what he was capable of doing, and yet she’d walked right into his waiting arms. She had all but pulled the trigger for him.

“And? What did you find out?” Jessie waited. Held her breath.

“They belong to a woman named Jessica Barrett. There’s plenty of information on her. A rap sheet, for one thing. Shoplifting. Petty theft. Writing hot checks. She’s twenty-eight. Born in Dallas. And matches your description to a tee. Her last job was as a cocktail waitress at a gentleman’s club, and I use the words gentleman and waitress loosely. My security people say Ray’s Cantina is nothing more than a sleazy strip joint known for its prostitutes and drug pushers.”

His voice lowered to a dangerous level. “Would you like to tell me now that you’re not the lying, scheming con artist that I know you are?”

Jessie tried not to look too relieved. “All right, so you’ve figured me out. The game is over. Now will you please leave?”

“No. Not until you tell me who put you up to this. Because I’m not buying that you did all of this on your own.” He caught her by the shoulders. “Let me tell you my theory. My political opponent is a man named Abel Markham, the dirtiest SOB who ever wanted to sit in the Texas Legislature. He’s the reason I’m running for office. I don’t want him anywhere near the State Capitol Building, and he knows I can stop him.”

“You’re a real Boy Scout, aren’t you, McClendon.” Jessie figured she had nothing to lose now. She couldn’t possibly rile him any more than he already was.

“No, I’m not. But I don’t go around trying to trash other people’s lives. I think Markham came up with this little scheme because of your most recent place of employment.”

She fired a narrowed glance at him. “What do you mean?”

He mumbled something and shook his head. “A woman named Christy Mendoza worked at Ray’s Cantina, too, and she died at my ranch about eight months ago. It was an accident, but Markham’s always tried to turn it into something else.”

Jessie couldn’t believe he’d laid this in her lap. Too bad she couldn’t question him about it. But it wasn’t the right time. All she wanted was to get out of there.

“This kind of plan smacks of the dirty dealings that Markham’s so fond of,” he continued. “What did he want you to do? Go to the press with this idiotic notion that I’d gotten you pregnant?”

“Abel Markham doesn’t travel in the same circles I do.” But it was something to think about. Had her questions about Christy put a man like Markham on her trail?

“No, but he could have found you,” Jake insisted. “He could have chosen you as the person to try to ruin me. Know what I think happened next? You went along with it, except at the last minute you got greedy and decided you could cut yourself in for some bigger bucks. So you came to me with that insemination story, hoping you could blackmail me. Because even if your story is a pack of lies, the media would have a field day with it. And it is a pack of lies, isn’t it, Jessie?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“There was no kidnapping. No insemination. No plan to kill you. Just a dirty congressional candidate and a money-grubbing con artist who thought she’d found the goose that laid the golden egg.” His grip tightened on her shoulders. “Am I right? Tell me I’m right!”

“You’re right. Now please go. I’m leaving town and won’t bother you again.”

The shrill beeping pulsed through the room. Jessie gasped before she remembered what it was. The timer on her watch. She quickly pushed the small button to stop it.

“Well?” he prompted, when she didn’t move. “Why don’t we look at the results of the test together?”

“Why would you even care? You already know this was a con.”

“Let’s just call it idle curiosity.” He picked up the box and quickly read through the instructions on the back. “It says if it’s positive that a little blue circle will appear in the bottom of the tube.” He caught her arm and pulled her out of the chair. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

Jake nudged her toward the night table. Jessie eyed the vial as if it were a deadly rattler. And she prayed. Because it was the only thing left to do. There was a chance. A slim chance.

“A real moment of reckoning, huh, sweetheart?” he asked. He snared her gaze for a long, cold moment, and together they turned and looked at the vial.

Jessie flattened her hand over her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut. There was no need to say anything because it was there. There. In the tube.

The blue ring.

A groan clawed its way past her throat. “Oh God,” she mumbled. “Oh God.”

Chapter Three

Jake frowned and looked at the watery blue ring that had appeared in bottom of the tube. According to the directions, that meant the test was positive. Positive, as in the rabbit died.

So the woman really was pregnant. He hadn’t counted on that, but it meant nothing to him.

Or did it?

The baby wasn’t his, that was for sure, but it didn’t mean someone hadn’t tried to use her to get to him. Well, maybe. Maybe this really was a scheme she’d come up with on her own. No kidnappers. No being held hostage for three months. Just her plot to get him to pay up. Or Markham’s plot to ruin him.

Except, she did look surprised by that little ring. Stunned, really. And maybe just a little scared. There was something in those gray eyes of hers that made him want to comfort her.

He resisted. Of course.

It would be stupid to comfort her.

“I don’t know why you look so shocked,” he said, when she sank back onto the chair. “Just two days ago you broke into my suite and told me you were pregnant. Now you’re acting like this is some big surprise.”

“It is.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Seeing the proof. It’s true. My God, it’s true. There’s really a baby.”

She put her arms on the table and leaned forward to cushion her face on them. She reminded Jake of a schoolgirl who was being punished. He only hoped she didn’t start to cry. The tears would be fake, no doubt, but he didn’t want to handle even fake crying right now.

He had to admit Jessie did seem genuinely upset, though. Maybe because he had discovered her lie. Yes, that was it. Or maybe because the pregnancy was unplanned, and that created a lot of personal problems for her. Without the blackmail money, her resources no doubt were limited, and she was probably trying to figure out a way to pay for her slip-up.

“Guess you’ll have to call the father and let him know about that little blue ring,” he calmly suggested.

Jessie raised her head slowly and gave him a look that could have frozen molten lava. “Don’t you have somewhere else to go?”

“Not at the moment.” He scraped his thumbnail over a strip of loose varnish on the nightstand. For some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at the test tube. Such a little thing to deliver what was, apparently, a bombshell. He hadn’t remembered his late wife, Anne, taking such a test. But of course, her pregnancy had been closely monitored by doctors right from the beginning.

For all the good it had done.

That’s why this scheme bothered him so much. If Abel Markham had put this together, he certainly knew the right buttons to push. A pregnancy. A child. Nothing could have stirred up old wounds as much as this did. It had been nearly four years to the day since Anne died trying to give birth to their child. To their son. Four years of hell. Four years of blaming himself.

Yes, somebody knew exactly which buttons to push. If it wasn’t Markham, then it was this woman. Either way, Jake wouldn’t let them get away with it.

“Tell me about the baby’s father,” he insisted, forcing himself away from the memories of Anne and his son. “Was he in on this scheme, too?”

He hadn’t thought the lava-freezing look could get worse, but it did. Significantly worse. She glared at him. Her jaw tightened, and her voice got louder with each word. “Yes, I think he’s in on it up to his proverbial eyeballs. He’s a bottom-feeding, pompous, smart-mouth jerk. My greatest wish is that at this very minute a bolt of lightning will come streaking down on him and fry him to a crispy critter.”

“Careful. One might think you’re talking about me.”

She opened her mouth as if to add more to her name-calling litany, but then wearily shook her head. “Just go away.”

“I will, after you look me in the eye and answer two questions. What’s the name of the baby’s father, and is Abel Markham the one who hired you?”

She slowly met his gaze again. “You don’t want answers, McClendon. What you want is for me to lie. You want me to deny everything, so you can go home to your nice big ranch and put all of this behind you. Well, I can’t do that.”

“Because you think I’ll call the cops. I won’t. All I want is the truth.”

“You mean the truth according to Jake McClendon.”

“The truth. Is Markham behind this?”

“I don’t know.” She repeated it, but then her tone changed. No longer confrontational. No easily flung insults. Jessie stared at the floor and ran her fingers over her temple. “Maybe. Maybe that’s why they said your name, so I would suspect you. I hadn’t considered that until now.”

He groaned. “Now we’re back to kidnapping and vials?”

“Look, why don’t you just go—”

“Not until you tell me who got you pregnant.”

“All right, I’ll tell you.” Jessie grabbed his arm and shoved him into the tiny bathroom. She jabbed a finger at the filmy mirror and his reflection. “That’s him. That’s the father of this baby. Now I know you don’t want that to be true. Believe me, neither do I, but I can’t change things. I can’t go back three months and stop myself from being kidnapped. I can’t stop them from violating me and using me as some pawn in their sick game.”

The burst of emotion left as quickly as it came. She sagged against the wall. “Will you please just go?”

“Not yet.” He roughly cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Give me one good reason why I should believe anything you’ve said. I know who you are, remember? I know you worked at some sleazy joint where you probably turned tricks on the side or danced naked on tables for money.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I was a cocktail waitress. Look at me, for heaven’s sake. Do I look like a hooker or exotic dancer?” Jake did look at her. She was still sickly pale, and it seemed as if she’d cut her hair with a dull weed whacker. Far from sexy. Still, there was something appealing about her. The mouth, he figured. It was full and sensuous. That mouth would attract some men. And her eyes. When she wasn’t ready to spit bullets at him, her eyes mellowed to a soft platinum color.

His gaze traveled downward. Voluptuous, she wasn’t. Not by anybody’s standards. Her breasts were small, well-shaped, and because she obviously wasn’t wearing a bra, he could see her nipples pressed against the stretchy fabric of her top. After feeling his body clench, he decided it wasn’t good to look at her breasts. Jessie Barrett might be a natural-born liar, and pregnant, but for reasons he didn’t want to explore, his body seemed to respond to her.

Her waist was small, as well. A flat stomach that made him wonder just how many weeks’ pregnant she really was. The jeans she wore gapped at the waist and barely skimmed over her hips. Her legs, like the rest of her, were slender. And long. She was easily five feet eight inches tall. He was just over six feet and didn’t have to drop his gaze too much to look her in the eye.

Not that he especially wanted to look into her eyes.

“Well?” she demanded.

Jake realized she was still waiting for an answer. Somehow, he’d forgotten the question. “Well what?”

She pushed out a frustrated breath. “Do I look like I could earn a living with this body?”

Maybe not earn a living, but she could do a fair job of stirring him up. Best to keep that to himself. It’d been a long time since he’d felt a physical attraction for a woman. Any woman. He wasn’t about to let his libido stir him in her direction.

She shook her head. “Don’t bother answering. I know what I look like, especially now. Trust me, you wouldn’t look much better if you’d been through what I have.” She gave a tired, cynical laugh. “You actually thought I was a hooker. What a joke. I don’t even like sex, and I haven’t been with a man in years.”

It didn’t seem a subject he wanted to explore. With her, anyway. He liked sex. And missed having it. She reminded him of that.

“Besides,” she continued, “my job and lifestyle have nothing to do with what went on at that warehouse.”

Maybe. But he wasn’t about to discount it yet. “So you’re sticking to the story that this kidnapping really happened?”

She squeezed her hands into fists, groaned in frustration and stormed out of the room. Jake followed her because he didn’t want her to try to escape again. He was still looking for answers, and she was his best bet. Maybe his only bet.

He caught her wrist and whirled her around to face him. Not the best idea he’d ever had. It caused a major problem. Because of the way he turned her, Jessie really faced him. Right up close. Barely inches away. And her warm, rapid breath hit against his throat.

Jake took in her scent, then. Not the smell of the cheap motel room, or even odors from the sweltering Texas heat outside. Her scent. A mingle of everything that was female. And something else. Something deeper, that he thought he might recognize but didn’t want to.

Great. He was obviously letting this fast-breathing, skinny liar get to him. He couldn’t possibly recognize her scent because there was nothing about it to recognize. Nothing. He didn’t know her, and she only knew him in the confines of her warped imagination.

Still, he felt the uncomfortable shiver go down his spine. It seemed a primitive signal that tried to override his common sense. Well, Jake had news for primitive signals—nothing overrode his common sense.

Nothing.

“How long are you going to hang around here and harass me?” Jessie demanded. She looked resolute enough. Her back was stiff, her chin up. Her eyes were focused and narrowed. But then he heard her swallow. She gulped. As if all of this closeness had some kind of weird effect on her, too.

Jake shook his head to clear it. If there was some kind of odd feeling between them, he didn’t want to explore it. Not with this woman. “I’ll hang around and harass you, as you call it, until I get the truth.”

“I’ve told you the truth, but you’ve chosen not to believe it. Well, you know what? That’s fine, as long as you get out of here and leave me alone. I think I’d like to have a nervous breakdown now and I can’t do that with you calling me a liar every few minutes.”

“Your nervous breakdown will have to wait.” Jake glanced at the blue circle in the vial again, and then at her. He had some things to work out and there was only one place to start. With her. “Come on. I think I know of a way we can settle all of this right now.” He caught her by the arm, but she shook off his grip just as quickly.

“What do you mean by come on? Do you honestly think I’d go anywhere with you?”

“I don’t think you have a choice. I can still call the cops, remember?”

She threw up her hands. “Then, why don’t you? Go ahead. I want you to do it. Since I don’t have a phone, that means you’ll have to go elsewhere to make that call, and elsewhere is exactly where I want you to be.”

“I will be elsewhere. Soon. All I want is to get some facts straight, and we can do that with a visit to Cryogen Labs. If I remember correctly, it’s open until eight. We’ll have plenty of time to get there before they close.”

“And just what would that accomplish?”

“They can tell you to your lying face that my vials were destroyed four months ago.”

Again, she gave him one of those gritty looks. “And? Why would I believe them, when I saw proof that one existed?”

Jake tried to put a choke hold on what was left of his self-control. Somehow, he had to get her to confess that she’d lied, and yelling at her didn’t seem to work. Nor did intimidation. Actually, so far nothing had worked.

“Look, this visit isn’t just for me,” he explained, forcing himself to calm down. “It could give you some peace of mind, too.”

Her hands went to her hips. “How, pray tell?”

“If you really believe this asinine theory of kidnapping and insemination, then it stands to reason that someone at Cryogen was in on this. Only a handful of people work there. You could see if you recognize them.”

“I didn’t see their faces. They wore surgical masks.”

Of course. What else had he expected her to say? “Maybe you could recognize their voices?”

She rearranged her expression, apparently giving that some thought. “Maybe.” But then she shook her head. “I can’t go walking into Cryogen Labs. Someone wants to kill me, remember? It could be the people who work there.”

“Oh, yes. That.” He didn’t intend to let her get away that easily, not when he was this close to the truth. “Well, I can’t imagine anyone trying to kill you with a witness around, and I make one heck of a witness. Don’t worry. Nothing bad will happen while you’re with me.”

JESSIE DIDN’T HAVE a good feeling about this little trip at all, and Jake McClendon’s assurance was probably worth a thimble full of spit. Nothing bad will happen while you’re with me.

Yeah, right.

Easy for him to say. Nobody wanted to kill him. Well, except for her. And that was only in a figurative sense.

“You’re not about to throw up, are you?” he asked.

It was the first thing Jake had said since he forced her into his sleek silver luxury car. This was probably his idea of chitchat. Fine. Her idea of answering him was to continue to look out the window as he drove down St. Mary’s Street.

“Because you look like you’re about to throw up,” he added.

This wasn’t a conversation Jessie wanted to have. Her stomach was queasy enough as it was, without discussing the potential outcome of queasiness. “Will you leave me alone? If and when I have to throw up, you’ll be the first to know. Well, maybe the second. What? Are you afraid I’ll ruin the carpet in your overpriced, foreign car?”

“No. I’m more concerned about that look on your face. When’s the last time you had something to eat?”

It took Jessie several moments to gather her breath so she could answer him. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m getting some food in you.”

She frowned at the concern she saw when she glanced at him. “What’s with you? One minute you threaten to call the cops, and the next minute you want to feed me? Make up your mind, McClendon. All this flip-flopping is making me dizzy.”

“Feeding you has nothing to do with whether or not I believe you’re a con artist. Right now, I’m thinking about that baby you’re carrying.”

Jessie felt as if he’d punched her. She didn’t want him to think about the baby. Well, not beyond thinking about how it fit into the general scheme of things, she didn’t. She certainly didn’t want him concerned about it.

“What I had in mind was going through a drive-thru to get you a soft drink or something,” he added. “It might settle your stomach.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me or my stomach.”

“I wasn’t worrying.” But he turned into the parking lot of a fast-food place and stopped in front of the huge menu board. “What do you want to eat?”

She fired him an annoyed glance. “Nothing.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just order for you.”

The cheerful, young voice on the speaker welcomed them and asked what she could do for them. Jessie ignored the voice. “Are you always this pushy, Mr. McClendon?”

“Always.”

She didn’t doubt him. And she didn’t want to argue. Besides, some food just might help her queasy stomach. “A cheeseburger and a chocolate milk shake.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a five-dollar bill and tossed it into his lap.

“I’ll pay for it.” And he picked up the money and sent it right back in her direction.

“No. You won’t.” She wouldn’t budge on this, either. She didn’t want one cent of his money.

Jessie latched on to the bill just as he latched on to her hand. She supposed he was trying to stuff the money back into her pocket. He succeeded.

Well, to some extent.

He got his fingers, and the five, about halfway into the front pocket of her jeans before it must have occurred to him that wasn’t a place his hand should be. It also occurred to Jessie that having his hand there felt somewhat better than it should have. He managed to touch some kind of nerve that went from her hipbone all the way to a place that suddenly seemed filled with nerves.

Jake snatched back his hand, leaving the money sticking out of her pocket. The cheerful voice on the speaker asked them if they needed more time to make up their minds about the order. Neither answered her.

Jessie glanced at the five. Then at him. “This money is going somewhere on your body, preferably your shirt pocket. But don’t tempt me.”

When he didn’t take it, she slipped the bill into his pocket, trying to touch as little of him as possible. It was hard not to notice that solid chest, though. Very solid. Lord, she hoped that wasn’t his nipple her fingers grazed. Judging from the way he sucked in his breath, it was.

Scowling, Jake ordered for her and added a hamburger combo meal for himself. After he paid for the food and picked it up at the window, he parked in a spot near the street. That made Jessie feel a little better. If necessary, they could make a quick getaway. Well, maybe. Since her host didn’t believe her, he might not realize in time that there was anything to get away from.

“So who are you, really?” he asked.

She shoved the plastic straw into her drink and took a sip, before placing the milk shake in the cup holder. “We’ve been through that, and I’m not up to another argument. If you want conversation with your burger, then pick a less volatile subject.”

“All right.” His hesitation let her know he couldn’t come up with anything right away. “Why did you become a cocktail waitress?”

“What you really mean is, why didn’t I become something better?”

“If that’s what I wanted to know, I would have asked. I don’t mince words, and I’m trying not to be volatile here.”

Jessie nibbled on her cheeseburger so it would give her time to think up an answer. “I only worked at the cantina for a week, but I suppose I became a waitress because I like the idea of eating regularly and paying my bills. That’s something I’m sure you’ve never had to worry about.”

There was no stinging comeback. No sarcasm. Just silence. Jessie glanced at him to make sure he wasn’t quietly choking on his burger. He wasn’t. He was staring at her.

The light came through the window at an odd angle, slanting over his face. A strong face. Handsome, she reluctantly admitted.

Yes.

There it was again. That odd feeling when she looked at him. More than a twinge. Less than a jolt. Something. Something, she didn’t want to feel. What the heck was it about this overbearing man that made her insides turn to mush?

“What?” he asked.

“What do you mean what?”

“You’re looking at me.”

Well, he started it. Jessie forced her gaze away. “Sorry. I didn’t know looking at someone was against the law.”

“It isn’t. Under normal circumstances,” he mumbled, making it sound like an afterthought. “Listen, let’s declare a short truce. That way, you can do more than pick at that cheeseburger, and neither of us will get indigestion.”

It was too late. She already had indigestion. Jessie reached for her milk shake just as he reached for his drink. The back of his hand grazed hers. It was only a whisper of a touch. She might not have noticed it if it had been another man. This time she noticed. Apparently so did he, because when she glanced up, he had his gaze fixed on her.

Mush again.

She looked at his mouth. It was a well-shaped mouth. He was probably a champion kisser. Now why the heck had she thought of something like that? To the best of her knowledge, she’d never, never looked at a man and declared him a champion kisser.

Along with the indigestion, she was probably losing it.

This was stupid. Just plain stupid. She didn’t get all hot and bothered when she looked at a man’s mouth. Especially the mouth of a man she didn’t trust.

“Go ahead,” Jessie mumbled. “Say something volatile.”

His hamburger stopped halfway to his mouth. “Huh?”

Jessie couldn’t tell him she needed an attitude adjustment, but she did. If he said something irritating, it would probably get her back on track. It would at least get her attention off his mouth.

“Volatile,” she repeated. “Ask me more of those dumb questions. Accuse me of being a hooker or a stripper. Anything.”

He frowned. “Are you having that nervous breakdown now?”

No, but it might be a good time for it. “We should go,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to waste any more time sitting around here.”

He mumbled something under his breath and shoved his burger back into the paper sack. He had the car started and back on the street within seconds.

From the corner of her eye, she saw his grip tighten on the steering wheel. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to jump out of the car by now,” he commented.

Now he came up with the volatile stuff. A bit late but still effective. It got her mind off him and onto her situation.

Jessie had considered jumping out of the car, but had ruled it out. She really didn’t want a bunch of scrapes and bruises, especially when he no doubt had someone following them. If she did try to jump out, then one of his hired goons would likely grab her and put her back into the car. Besides, this trip to Cryogen Labs just might provide her with some answers.

“I guess I’m just not in the mood for jumping out of cars,” she said. She put the rest of her cheeseburger into the bag and leaned her head against the back of the seat.

“So what are you in the mood for—talking?”

“Not that, either. I’ll be in the mood for talking when you’re in the mood to listen.”

He mumbled under his breath again. “You might have to wait a couple hundred years for that. Well, unless you’re interested in telling me the truth.”

“I’ve already told you the truth.” Well, as much of the truth as she knew.

Just what was the whole truth, anyway?

Had this man, Abel Markham, used her as his pawn? Or was Jake McClendon the mastermind? Maybe it was neither of them. Maybe it was someone she hadn’t even considered. If that was true, then she was back to square one, the same place she’d been for days.

“Well, there’s your Waterloo,” he said, pointing to the building that lay ahead. “Cryogen Labs. Are you sure you don’t want to come clean now? It could save you from being humiliated.”

“The only person risking humiliation is you.” But Jessie had no idea if that was even true.

Cryogen Labs looked innocuous enough with its buttermilk-colored brick exterior and white lacquered shutters, but it still frightened her enough to make her tremble. With reason. Somehow, somebody connected with that lab had possibly been in on the plan to kidnap her. The plan that had resulted in her becoming pregnant.

Pregnant.

She gulped in a deep breath and tried to shake off that thought. It wasn’t the time to think about the ramifications of a pregnancy. Or the baby. It would only distract her. She couldn’t afford any more distractions now. Later, she would work out what she was going to do.

Jake parked his car, and they walked toward the building. “Well, I have to give it to you, Ms. Barrett. I really thought you’d try to run away by now.”

She came to a complete stop and spun around, intending to give him a piece of her mind. The only thing she gave him was a weak head butt to his shoulder, when the dizzy spell sent her right into him. Her legs turned to rubber, and he caught her in his arms.

“Christ,” he mumbled. “Are you all right?”

Jessie tried to nod and push herself away from him. She failed. Because it seemed she had no other choice, she rested her head against his shoulder and tried to wait out the dizziness.

He smelled good. Warm and musky. There was the underlying scent of an expensive aftershave. And his arm that slid around her waist was strong, corded with muscles. The smooth fabric of his shirt sleeve brushed against her arm. Sweet heaven. She didn’t want this. Too bad her head was in the middle of her own personal F-5 tornado.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructed.

She did. It helped a little. “I hate this light-headedness.”

“I can see why. It’s hard to work out diabolical schemes when you’re as pale as a ghost and ready to lose your lunch.”

Jessie forced her eyes to focus. She didn’t think she quite managed a scowl, but she tried. Especially when she realized how close they were. Her body was pressed against his. Right against his. Even through her cotton shirt, she could feel his belt buckle on her stomach. She wouldn’t think about anything below his belt, even though she would have had to be paralyzed not to notice he was a man. All man.

Their faces were so close she could count his eyelashes, which were too long, she decided. His breath was sweet. From the soft drink, not his disposition. He also needed a shave. His five o’clock shadow was dark and coarse. And it made him look a little like an outlaw. She wouldn’t allow herself to look at his mouth. No. Even the dizziness wouldn’t counteract that. That mouth had her hormonal number.

She stepped back. “Thank you, Mr. McClendon, for reminding me that you’re a jerk. No, worse than a jerk. You’re navel lint.”

“Anytime.” But his comment lacked sarcasm.

When Jessie glanced up, she saw more of that concern in his expression. He was still close, despite that step she had taken away from him. She took another, but he caught her arm. She was thankful. The inside of her head was still whirling around. If he hadn’t caught her, she no doubt would have fallen on her face.

“Let’s go in,” she insisted. “That way, I can sit down, and you don’t have to hold me.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not holding you for your sake. My concern is for your child. I don’t want you blaming me for pushing you too hard.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “That’s a joke, right? You’ve done nothing but push me hard. You’ve hounded me, harassed me and called me names.”

He didn’t say anything for several seconds. “I want answers, and I’m sorry if you don’t like my methods. Once we’re through inside, your game will be over. You can get out of my face and I can get out of yours.”

“Good.” She wiggled out of his grip and walked to the door on her own. Fortunately, the anger eased the dizziness.

“Yes. Good.” He jerked open the door and led her inside.

The reception area looked like any other place of business. Monochrome shades of beige. It looked too clean. Almost sterile, which seemed ironic to Jessie, since the place stored one of the most basic elements needed for human reproduction.

The blond woman behind the desk greeted them with a businesslike smile. “Welcome to Cryogen Labs. How may I help you?”

“I’m Jake McClendon.”

“Yes, Mr. McClendon.” The perky-looking blonde became flustered and blushed. “Wow, it really is you. I saw you on the news, but you look much better in person.”

Jessie tried not to roll her eyes. The icing on the cake. A fan of Jake McClendon’s. It was bad enough that she had to be here with him, but now she had to experience some woman who was neck-deep in hero worship, as well. That sexy mouth of his must have the same effect on all females.

Apparently he didn’t want to indulge too much in the adoration, either, because he got right to the point. “I need to speak to Dr. Radelman.”

“Oh. He doesn’t work here anymore.”

“Since when? He’s the man who contacted me after my vials were destroyed.”

“Yes, and he left, um, let me see when…” She flipped through her calendar. “About two weeks later.”

Two weeks after the vials were destroyed and about two weeks before someone kidnapped her. Jessie didn’t think that was a coincidence. A doctor probably would have been the one to do the actual insemination.

“Why did Dr. Radelman leave?” Jake demanded.

“He transferred to another job.” She snapped her fingers as if trying to recall something. “Harvest Place, I think it’s called. Something like that, anyway. It’s not connected with Cryogen.”

Jessie started to ask if the woman had the address or phone number of the place, but Jake spoke before she could. “There was a nurse who worked here. She had a soft voice and she was tall. Red hair. She wasn’t the one I spoke to on the phone a couple of days ago.”

Soft voice. That got Jessie’s attention. The woman who held her captive had had a soft voice. And she’d no doubt been a nurse, since she was the one who had administered the injections. She was tall, too. Jessie remembered that about her, even though she’d never seen the woman’s face. Nor her hair. Her hair had always been bundled under a surgical cap. But the eyes. Yes, she’d seen her eyes. And they were dark green.

“You must mean Marion Cameron,” the blonde said with a grin. “But she doesn’t work here anymore, either. She left the same time Dr. Radelman did.”

Jake shook his head in apparent frustration. “To take another job?”

The woman shrugged. “A sabbatical. She’d been under a lot of stress. Her husband walked out on her, so she was going through all this emotional stuff.”

“Does she have green eyes?” Jessie asked.

Jake looked at her.

So did the blonde, who said, “Yes, as a matter of fact she does.”

Jessie didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. Finally, there was some proof, little though it was, to back up what she’d been saying.

“Thank you for the information,” Jake told the woman. “By any chance do you have addresses for Marion Cameron and Dr. Radelman?”

“Sorry.” The blush on her cheeks deepened. “I’m not allowed to give that out.”

Jessie thought he might argue, but he didn’t. That was probably because he knew his people could easily come up with that kind of information. He took her by the arm and led her out of the building.

“Still think I’m lying?” she asked briskly, as they walked across the parking lot.

He didn’t answer for several seconds. “Yes.”

Of course. What had she expected? “But what about the missing doctor and nurse? You can’t believe it’s a coincidence they would leave right after your vials were supposedly destroyed.”

“I don’t know what to believe yet—not until I’ve spoken with them.” He put his hand on the car door, but didn’t open it. “I’ll make some calls and find out where they are.”

“And then what?”

His mouth thinned. “Well, I won’t be buying cigars anytime soon. Even if by some miracle these people were involved in a plot to kidnap you, it doesn’t mean you’re carrying my baby.”

Jessie would have returned verbal fire, but she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye. A late-model, white, four-door sedan. And it was going much too slowly. She turned toward it, her own body seemingly moving in slow motion, as well. Before she could respond, before she could brace herself, there was a deafening blast. The back window of Jake’s car shattered and the pebbled sheet of safety glass crashed onto the seat with a walloping thud.

“Get down!” she yelled. Jake shouted something similar at the same time, but he punctuated it with some vicious profanity.

A rapid fire of bullets sizzled across the roof. Just like that, in the span of a heartbeat, Jessie’s anger evaporated. In its place, her instincts kicked in. And her fear. A sickening fear that clawed away at her. God, she didn’t want to die this way.

She hit the pavement, her knees catching the brunt of the fall. Jake shoved her the rest of the way down and followed on top of her, sheltering her body with his. She got only a glimpse of a man in the white car.

“Someone’s shooting at us.” But it wasn’t necessary for Jessie to relay that information. Jake apparently knew exactly what was happening.

It was an awful time to say that she told him so, but blast it, she had told him so. Nothing bad will happen while you’re with me. Yeah, right. She’d warned him that somebody wanted her dead and he hadn’t believed her. Well, maybe this would finally convince him.

If they lived long enough for it to convince him.

A bullet, then another, tore into the car. The sounds of lead ripping through metal were all around them. Her heart was in her throat. And her pulse pounded violently. Her every instinct screamed for her to fight back. To protect herself. But there was no way to do that in an open parking lot.

A thousand thoughts crossed her mind. None good. This was the culmination of her worst fears. She was unarmed, with a gunman after her. This time, he just might succeed in killing her. Maybe even killing Jake, as well. They could both die right here, right now, and she wouldn’t even know why she’d been murdered.

There was the squeal of tires, followed by another shot. She didn’t dare hope the gunman was leaving. From the sound of it, he was simply circling around to get a better angle. Jessie sucked in a hard breath, trying to keep the veneer over the panic that was so close to the surface she could taste it, fiery and bitter in her mouth.

Jake pressed himself against her, a reminder that he had placed himself right in the path of those bullets. Like hers, his breath came out in short, fast spurts. Jessie could feel the knots in his muscles. The hot scent of adrenaline and scorched metal was all around them.

When the white car momentarily darted out of her line of sight, Jake reached up and fumbled around until he located the handle. He popped open the door. “Stay down and get on the floor.”

He rolled to his side so she could slip into the car. Doing so, he put himself in even greater danger. Jessie wouldn’t let herself consider why he did that. No use thinking about him as a Boy Scout.

She crunched herself as far under the dash as she could and latched onto his shirt. “Get in!” she yelled.

He did. Somehow, he snaked through the narrow opening and across the seats, slamming the door behind him. Within seconds he had the car started and gunned the engine.

They sped away, just as another bullet demolished the window right above Jessie’s head.

Chapter Four

“Are you hit?” Jake yelled as he maneuvered his car through a hairpin turn.

Jessie did a quick inventory. “No. You?”

“No, but stay down.”

“I could say the same to you.” But he didn’t stay down. He continued to speed away from the person who had just tried to kill them. Or her. Jessie suspected those bullets had been meant for her.

God, would this nightmare ever end?

“Is he following us?” she asked, unable to see for herself. But she didn’t have to wait for Jake to answer. Another bullet skipped off the roof, gashing into the metal and even the leather interior just overhead. Someone meant business. “Did you get a look at the gunman?”

“Just a man in a white car. The first digit of the license plate was C.”

“The last was F,” Jessie provided, after she pulled in a generous breath. Not that it helped. Every inch of her was on a razor-sharp edge, her body braced for the fight. A fight she could easily lose. And losing this fight would mean dying. “There was mud or something covering the rest of the plate. I think it might be the same man who kidnapped me.”

Jake made another turn, his gaze darting between the rearview mirror and the street ahead. “I thought you said there were four people who kidnapped you.”

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