His Child. Delores Fossen

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