Her Baby, His Proposal. Teresa Carpenter

a flood of disappointment rushed through her. He was leaving. This time she couldn’t even fake a smile.

      She swallowed back tears. “Bye.”

      “I’m not going anywhere. Except the cafeteria. Would you like me to bring you something? You never got your burger.”

      Jesse stared at him, horrified. “Oh my God. All night you’ve been with me. You haven’t eaten.”

      He winked at her. “It’s not the first time. I’ll survive. Will you be all right if I leave for a few minutes?”

      “Of course.”

      “What would you like?”

      Her stomach hadn’t settled enough to like the thought of food. “Maybe some crackers if you can find some. And cranberry juice.”

      “Sure thing. Why don’t you close your eyes and rest while I’m gone.”

      “I will.” She nodded, though she didn’t really want him to go.

      She felt safe with him near, comforted by his concern. Without him the hospital was a cold, sterile place. But he would be out of her life soon enough; she needed to start getting used to the idea.

      CHAPTER THREE

      IT WAS nearly two when Brock helped Jesse to her door. He frowned as he surveyed the run-down condition of the apartment complex. Not surprising, considering the area.

      More asleep than awake, Jesse stumbled. He moved his hand from her elbow to her waist to help her up the stairs to the second floor. The night had taken a toll on her, both emotionally and physically.

      He felt the weight of fatigue himself after a twenty-hour day. And with his crew shipping out in a few days, he needed to be up and alert again in less than four hours.

      Plus the sooner he delivered her into the safe haven of her home and got back to his life the better. She was a sweet kid—older than he’d originally thought but with twelve years between them, still a kid.

      Music, loud in the early-morning stillness, beat behind the door Jesse stopped beside. A resigned look of disgust deepened the exhaustion on her face.

      She blocked his path with a hand on his chest and tried for a smile no more successful than the pathetic attempts she’d made at the hospital. There wasn’t a whole lot of pretense about Jesse.

      “Thanks for all your help tonight.” She hesitated as if wanting to say more, but she only opened the door and stepped inside. Behind her, smoke filled the room, thick and cloying. Three people, two men and a woman, sprawled across the mismatched furniture. Hip-hop came from a stereo on top of a plastic crate doing duty as a coffee table.

      When the smoke hit Jesse, she went white then green.

      With a bravery that told him of the effort it cost her, she lifted her chin and said goodbye.

      “I won’t forget what you did for me. Have a nice life.”

      Brock made it all the way back to the top of the stairs before his conscience got the better of him. Perhaps his memories of Sherry made him more sensitive tonight, but he couldn’t leave Jesse to deal with that crowd alone.

      If he’d listened to his gut and his brother sixteen years ago, he wouldn’t have destroyed the most important things in his life. In one fell swoop he lost his fiancée, his future and his family’s respect.

      The thought of spending the next six months haunted by Jesse’s courageous brown eyes turned Brock around. Determined strides carried him back to apartment 2B. He knocked, then stepped inside. The three in the living room looked at him with dazed disinterest.

      “Hey, man.” A limp young man with greasy brown hair roused enough to notice Brock. “You bring any with you?”

      Brock ignored him, convinced he’d done the right thing in coming back for Jesse. He headed for the hall and the bedrooms figuring she’d go straight to bed. A movement to the left drew his attention. She sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands.

      She looked up when he stopped beside her. The fire of anger burned through the tears pooled in her whiskey-bright eyes. “Someone’s in my bed.”

      He hunkered down to her level and ran a soothing hand over her thick amber hair. “Which room is yours?”

      “The one on the right.”

      “Get your purse and jacket. I’ll be right back.” He pushed to his feet.

      She grabbed his wrist. “Brock, it’s okay.”

      He gently pried her fingers free and placed her hand on the table. “No, it’s not. You’d better get what you need from the bathroom, as well. I’m taking you to my place for the night. I have an extra room in my condo. You can stay there.”

      In the hall, too grand a name for the four-foot-long space, he flipped open the door on the right and flicked on the lights. On the bed a man and woman sprang apart.

      “Hey,” the man yelped in outrage. “Get out. This room is occupied.”

      The woman grabbed the sheet to cover herself. The man yanked a pillow into his lap.

      “Not anymore,” Brock told him in the tone he reserved for raw recruits, sparing a glance for the woman. “Get dressed and get out. This room doesn’t belong to you.”

      “Tracy said we could use it.” The man muttered belligerently.

      “Tracy doesn’t pay the rent for this room. Jesse does. Do you have Jesse’s permission to be here? No. So get dressed and leave. Now.”

      The couple glared at him, making no move to follow his directive. Brock put them from his mind. He went to the closet and pulled out a sport duffel. Going to the bureau, he filled the bag with the essentials he thought Jesse would need for the night.

      He returned to the kitchen where she waited. She had her purse in her lap, her coat over her arm and a cosmetic bag on the table next to her.

      “Ready?” he asked, reaching for her coat to help her into it.

      Behind him the man and woman exited Jesse’s room, went to the front door and left. Brock ignored them and the dark looks they sent his way.

      Jesse watched them go, her total lack of expression telling him the extent of her weariness. “They’re gone. I don’t have to go now.”

      Funny, she didn’t sound relieved. Then he saw her glance distastefully down the hall toward her room. Obviously, she found the thought of sleeping in a bed recently used for recreational purposes less than appealing.

      It didn’t matter. No way he was leaving her here.

      “Can you walk or should I carry you?”

      “You’ve already done too much,” she protested. Pride showed in the lift of her chin even as tear-heavy brown eyes pleaded with him.

      But pleaded for what? Did she want him to leave her alone or insist on her compliance? She sadly overestimated his stamina if she thought he had the ability, or patience, to read minds at this time of night.

      “Jesse,” a shrill voice called above the music. “Who is this guy? Where’s Tad?”

      Brock turned his attention to the living area where the washed-out blond woman perched on the edge of a brown plaid couch. He met her suspicious gaze impassively. Finally, a show of concern on Jesse’s behalf. He’d begun to wonder if she had anyone who cared about her, who’d be there to help her through a difficult pregnancy.

      Maybe she did just want him to leave.

      “My roommate, Tracy,” Jesse told him and then raised her voice to say, “Tad’s gone.”

      The woman frowned. She reached out and turned off the stereo. Blessed silence followed.

      “What did