Dream Baby

A car door slammed, and Nora whirled to look out the front window. A car had pulled into the semicircular driveway, and a man was just coming around the front of the vehicle. In the passenger seat, Nora caught a glimpse of a young boy, but her gaze quickly swung back to the man.

She lost him for a moment when he reached the front doors. That damned beveled glass! It turned his body into nothing but cuts and angles. Then he was inside, walking toward her in a purposeful stride.

He didn’t look dangerous. Determined, maybe. Nora could see the hard set of his chin, the way his eyes scanned one side of the room and then the other before fixing steadily on her. For no reason she could name, Nora suddenly wished that she was dressed in her three-piece suit, the one she’d worn to the IRS audit last year.

Only this guy didn’t look like an auditor, or any kind of government employee for that matter. His clothes were too casual, his tan was too dark and his golden-brown hair a little too long to meet any policy manual’s expectations. He had strong features—the kind of genetic marvel that great ancestry could bestow upon a person. Any woman would want to know more about this man. So why was Isabel so—

Realization dawned about the same time that the man came to a halt directly in front of Nora.

Even in her advanced stage of pregnancy Isabel was gregarious, outgoing. She’d never have run away from a great-looking guy like this. Unless...

This man had to be the father of her child. The irresponsible, insensitive Bobby. He was older than Nora expected, but it had to be him.

Nora’s heart bumped a little—the man was wonderful to look at—but she ignored it. Whatever reason Bobby had decided to show up on their doorstep now, Nora’s allegiance lay with Isabel. And the baby.

Her baby.

CHAPTER THREE

JAKE COULD TELL right away that the woman was going to be difficult.

He didn’t know what he had done to put her off him so fast, but he didn’t much care. He gave her a once-over look meant for intimidation.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Her words were pieces of crystal. He kept his own tone firm, but pleasant. “I hope so. I’m looking for a young woman named Isabel Petrivych.”

“Isabel Petrivych,” the woman repeated slowly, as though trying the name on for size. Then she shook her head. “I’m sorry—”

“Ben at the Whispering River Café told me I could find her here.”

That threw her, he could tell. She wasn’t a very good liar. The base of her neck went pink, and she swallowed, trying to regroup like an actress who realized she’d just muffed a line. “Oh. Well, Isabel was here. But she’s not now.”

“That’s odd. I thought I saw her as I was coming up the walkway.” Jake jerked his head toward the wide picture window. “It’s a pretty good view from the front driveway.”

“You must have been mistaken. It’s just me here today.”

The cool flatness of her tone irritated him. His eyes narrowed, taking in her sleek, toned length. The electric-blue leotard did marvelous things for her body—and a few unexpectedly pleasant things to his. He looked away, annoyed that he was noticing how attractive she was when he was trying so hard to be imposing. “So you’re working out alone.”

“Yes.”

“But Isabel will be back.” He made it a statement, not a question.

“Who knows?”

“I’m betting she will be,” Jake replied with a tight smile. He bent to retrieve a pair of sneakers that lay on the floor nearby. They were small, and even though he’d met Isabel only once, he distinctly remembered her as petite. “She might need these,” he said, taking a chance. When the woman looked momentarily stunned, and then opened her mouth to speak, he shook his head and tossed the sneakers on the desk. “Don’t bother. You’re at least a size eight.”

“Seven, actually.”

He started to smile at the response, then caught himself. “Look, I don’t know you, or why you and Isabel have decided to play this little game—” “I’m Nora Holloway. I own this place.”

“Ah, yes. NLH. The artist.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I saw your paintings at the café. Ben was right.”

“About what?”

“You are pretty.”

It was her turn to look annoyed, which was a shame because the compliment had been a sincere one. The generous mouth, large, brown eyes—the bones in her face were the kind you wanted to linger on. He liked the thick auburn ponytail that swayed back and forth over her shoulder, and that cute little trio of freckles across her collarbone. Too bad she was turning out to be such a royal pain in the butt.

“Mr....”

“Burdette.”

“Mr. Burdette,” Nora Holloway said succinctly. “I’ve told you that Isabel isn’t here. I don’t know when she’ll be back, so there’s really no point in waiting.”

“All right Then I’ll need to rent a cabin for the night.”

“There isn’t one available.”

Jake turned to gaze out the front window again. “Looks pretty quiet out there,” he observed. He pointed toward 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.”