Dream Baby. Ann Evans

the wooden Vacancy sign that sat only a few feet away from his rental car, then smiled back at Nora. “And that’s not what your sign says.”

      “We don’t rent by the night There’s a three-night minimum.”

      “Three nights will be fine, then.”

      The pinkening at her throat had gone to red, but she managed to harpoon him with an arctic glare. “Actually, we’re closed. The season hasn’t officially started yet.”

      He fished out his wallet and placed two one-hundred-dollar bills on the desk. “Then maybe I can give you a reason to open up early. Unofficially.”

      Those dark eyes were smoldering now, and he knew that the offer of money had insulted her. The thin sheet of glass that had sprung up between them when they’d met had turned into solid steel.

      “You’re wasting your time,” she said coldly. “And mine.”

      He was raw and improvising and suddenly out of patience. “We’re in agreement there, lady, so listen up. I’ve come a long way to see Isabel, and I’m not going home until I do.”

      “Well, you can’t stay here.”

      “Well, I think I’ll wait, all the same.”

      He turned away from her, feigning interest in a wall covered with scattered pictures. The photographs looked as if they dated from the Eisenhower administration. Grainy, black-and-white, but all of them obviously taken nearby.

      “How’s the fishing around these parts?” he asked as he peered at a young boy holding up a good-size catfish for the camera.

      “It’s good. If you know what you’re doing.”

      “Who’s this?” He tapped the picture glass.

      “My grandfather.” She gave him a put-upon look. “As an innkeeper, I have the right to refuse anyone—”

      He swung back to face her. “Look, I’m tired. I’ve just spent five hours cramming my six-foot, two-inch body in a roller skate of a sports car because my son liked the looks of it better than a roomy sedan. He’s out in the car, by the way, and if you think I’m unbearable, you ought to take him on. The point is, I’m not getting in that toy and heading back to the interstate. Not when there are perfectly good accommodations right here.”

      “I don’t want to call the sheriff, but—”

      The door beside the registration desk, previously half-closed, suddenly flew back, and Isabel Petrivych appeared in the doorway. “Oh, stop... Enough!” she gasped out.

      There was a long moment of silence, then Nora Holloway took a step in her direction. “Izzie...”

      The girl’s eyes were fixed on Jake. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth for a moment, then she said softly, “You wanted to see me. Here I am.”

      She hadn’t changed much since he’d met her last year. Except for the pregnancy, of course. She still had deep blue eyes and long, dark hair that curled attractively down her back. Bobby had always been a sucker for women with hair like that, and Jake had guessed the moment his brother had introduced them that there might be more between them than just two people who’d met at the same political rally.

      However, he’d never expected it to amount to anything. Bobby was leaving with Jake for Africa in a matter of days. They were going to build a bridge between two warring townships in the hill country, in a place so hot that the wind smelled like fire. The government had promised protection; the bridge was seen as a symbol of progress in the peace talks, and Jake had kidded Bobby unmercifully about being eager to see how his brother fared living in a place where the nearest comforts of home were miles and miles away.

      The bridge was up and in use now. Shining hotly in the naked sun, forged together with a fair amount of tears and sweat...and blood. He’d brought Bobby’s body home, and now he needed to do this one thing for his brother.

      “You have seen me,” Isabel said. “Now you can leave.”

      “No,” Jake replied. “I can’t.”

      “Why have you come here? I want nothing from you.”

      “I want to make sure that you’re all right. That you aren’t alone and—”

      “I’m not alone. I have Nora to help me.”

      He was aware of the Holloway woman moving forward, as though responding to some unspoken cue. He resented it, that little movement to protect Isabel. As though he could ever be a danger to the girl who carried in her womb-all that was left of his brother. He ignored her, keeping his attention focused on Isabel.

      “We need to talk,” he said firmly. “Just the two of us.”

      “There is nothing left to say.”

      “The hell there isn’t.” He crossed the room in long, easy strides, but before he reached Isabel, Nora Holloway moved between them. “There are decisions that need to be made.”

      “And I have made them,” Isabel snapped. “Go away!”

      Nora’s hand was suddenly on his chest. It was such a small, graceful hand, but it felt like a barrier of steel against his shirt. He frowned down at her, and something crossed her face that Jake hadn’t seen in her eyes before. Genuine anger, iron determination... something.

      “Don’t get in the middle of this,” he said finally.

      It was clear she intended to ignore that advice. “Isabel’s past the stage where the baby can be aborted, if that’s what you had in mind.”

      That statement surprised him a little. So she knew about Bobby’s foolish response to Isabel’s news. What else did she know? “That was a mistake—”

      “It certainly was. And you’re not going to come into my home and upset Isabel with any other solutions you think might ease your conscience.” She shook her head, and her eyes were filled with disgust. “You ought to be ashamed—coming here now. Where were you when she needed you the most?”

      Jake jerked back. “Wait a minute. You think—”

      “No, you wait a minute,” she said, advancing on him a little. “Isabel doesn’t deserve this. Only the worst kind of bastard would turn his back on a woman carrying his child—”

      “Nora—” Isabel began.

      “Miss Holloway—”

      “—and if you think you can make things right now, you’re in for a big surprise.”

      Jake took a step back. “So are you. Miss Holloway, I’m not the father of Isabel’s child.”

      The woman’s mouth tightened. “So now you want to deny that you’re the father? I suppose we should have expected that.”

      He looked over at Isabel again, searching for help. The girl moved forward to touch Nora’s elbow. “Nora,” she said softly. “This isn’t Bobby. This is his older brother. Jake.”

      The Holloway woman’s fierce expression melted a little; her eyes lost their fervor. Her hand came off Jake’s chest as though it had been singed.

      “Oh.” A tenuous smile tried to form, but it failed miserably and then disappeared. “I’m sorry. I thought—”

      “Yes, I know what you thought. That’s part of the reason I’m here. To clear up a few things.” To Isabel he said, “I’d just like to talk to you. That’s all.”

      Isabel’s mouth was still a slash of displeasure, but after a long silence she nodded. Nora picked up on this small signal and moved away from Jake. “I think I should leave you two alone,” she said, then added quickly, “Isabel, I’ll be in the rehab shed if you need me.”

      “Thank you,” Jake began.

      But Nora Holloway was