Книга - A Baby Under the Tree

A Baby Under the Tree
Judy Duarte


Dear Santa,It's me, Jillian Wilkes. I just did something totally out of character: I spent the most glorious night of my life with a stranger named Shane Hollister. Fast-forward three weeks. The sexy cowboy with the sweet smile left me with an incredible, life-changing gift….Hey, Santa,Houston ex-cop Shane Hollister here. I'm still reeling from the news: I'm going to be a father! Ever since Jillian delivered her bombshell, I've made up my mind to really get to know the Texas blonde. And what better place than my ranch in Brighton Valley? Now the top priority on my wish list is to let go of the past and make a future with the family I've always wanted!









“We really don’t have much in common.” Nothing other than a baby, of course.


“I’ll admit that it might look that way on the surface. But we don’t know that for sure. We never really had a chance to talk much that night.”

Shane was right about that. Even though they’d known each other’s bodies intimately, the rugged cowboy was pretty much a stranger to Jillian—as she was to him.

But he’d also put her healing process on the fast track and had made her feel desirable again.

So did that make them friendly strangers?

Or strangers with benefits…?


Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Brighton Valley, where we’ll move from summer to winter with Shane Hollister, a police detective turned cowboy, and Jillian Wilkes, who’s pregnant with the cowboy’s baby.

You’ll get a chance to revisit Caroline’s Diner, which has been adorned with a Christmas tree and all the trimmings. You’ll also have a chance to catch up with Dan and Eva Walker, hero and heroine of His, Hers and…Theirs? as well as their two sets of twins. The youngest girls are toddlers now.

There’s something special about a small Texas town during the holidays, especially when love is in the air. So find a cozy spot to curl up and read Shane and Jillian’s story in A Baby Under the Tree.

Wishing you and yours a Merry Christmas and a happy new year,

Judy




A Baby Under the Tree

Judy Duarte







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




JUDY DUARTE


always knew there was a book inside her, but since English was her least-favorite subject in school, she never considered herself a writer. An avid reader who enjoys a happy ending, Judy couldn’t shake the dream of creating a book of her own. Her dream became a reality in March of 2002, when Silhouette Special Edition released her first book, Cowboy Courage. Since then, she has published more than twenty novels.

Her stories have touched the hearts of readers around the world. And in July of 2005, Judy won a prestigious Readers’ Choice Award for The Rich Man’s Son.

Judy makes her home near the beach in Southern California. When she’s not cooped up in her writing cave, she’s spending time with her somewhat enormous but delightfully close family.


To Susan Litman.

If they had an editor of the year award, you’d get my nomination, my vote and my wholehearted applause.




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

Epilogue




Chapter One


As Jillian Wilkes entered El Jardin, an upscale bar in downtown Houston, she couldn’t decide whether this was the most therapeutic move she’d ever made—or the craziest.

After all, how many thirty-year-old women celebrated the day their divorce was final when they’d gone from princess to pauper in a matter of months?

Not many, she supposed, unless they, too, had been humiliated by their wealthy husband’s serial infidelity.

Eight years ago, marrying Thomas Wilkes had been a fairy-tale dream come true, but the split, which had created quite a stir in the highest social circles, had been a nightmare.

Now that the worst was behind her, she planned to treat herself to one last bit of fine dining and some much-needed pampering at a good spa before retreating to the real world in which she’d been born and raised.

So after leaving her lawyer’s office, she’d checked in for the weekend at a nice but affordable hotel, then took a short walk to one of the newest and classiest bars in town. There she intended to raise a glass to salute her new life. No more grieving the past for her. Instead, she would embrace whatever changes the future would bring.

Now, as Jillian scanned the interior, with its white plaster walls adorned with lush, colorful hanging plants and an old-world-style fountain in the center of the room, she was glad she’d come.

She spotted an empty table at the back of the room, near a stone fireplace that had a gas flame roasting artificial logs. After crossing the Spanish-tiled floor, she pulled out a chair, took a seat and placed her black Coach purse at her feet.

For a moment, she considered her decision to make a good-riddance toast to Thomas Wilkes. Another woman might have just gone home to lick her wounds, but Jillian couldn’t do that. Thanks to an ironclad prenuptial agreement—and the fact that all of the properties in which they’d ever lived during their marriage had been owned by the Wilkes family trust—Jillian didn’t have a home to go to. But she’d remedy that on Monday, when she would find a modest, one-bedroom apartment near the university where she would start graduate school in the summer.

It was a good game plan, she decided, and one deserving a proper kickoff. She was a free woman. So out with the old, and in with the new.

As if on cue, a waiter stopped by the table and set a sterling silver bowl of mixed nuts in front of her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yes, I’d like a split of the best champagne you have.”

He nodded, then left to get her order. Minutes later, he returned with a crystal flute, a silver bucket of ice and a small bottle of Cristal.

The sound of the popping cork gave Jillian an unexpected lift.

“Shall I?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, please.”

When he’d poured the proper amount, Jillian lifted her flute, taking a moment to watch the bubbles rise to the surface. Then she tapped the crystal glass against the bottle, setting off an elegant sound that promised better days ahead.

As she leaned back in her chair and took a sip of champagne, she surveyed the rest of the happy-hour crowd.

A forty-something man sat to her right, drinking something that appeared to be Scotch. She surmised he was a businessman because of the gray suit he was wearing—or rather, make that had been wearing. The jacket, which he’d probably hung on the back of his chair, had slipped to the floor.

When he glanced up, his eyes red and glassy, his tie loosened to the point of being sloppy, she realized he’d had a few drinks too many.

As their gazes met, he smiled and lifted his glass. “Hey, there, pretty lady. How ’bout I buy you a drink?”

She looked away, letting her body language tell him that she wasn’t the least bit interested in having a barroom buddy.

Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a great idea, after all. She probably ought to pay her tab and head back to the hotel, where she could kick back, order room service and watch a pay-per-view movie.

That sounded a lot better than avoiding glances from an amorous drunk.

But before she could motion for the waiter, she spotted a dark-haired cowboy seated at a table near a potted palm tree, a worn Stetson resting on the chair beside him, his long denim-clad legs stretched out, revealing scuffed boots. His hair, which was in need of a trim, was a bit mussed, as though he’d run his hands through it a time or two.

Funny, but she hadn’t noticed him before, which was odd. She wasn’t sure how she could have missed seeing someone so intriguing, so out of place.

Who was he? And why had he chosen to stop off at El Jardin for a drink? Maybe it was the relaxed pose of his lean body and the way he gripped the longneck bottle, but it seemed to her that he’d be more comfortable in a sports bar or honky-tonk.

She had no idea how long she’d been studying him—longer than was polite, to be sure. So when he glanced up and noticed her interest in him, her cheeks flushed. She should have turned away, embarrassed to have been caught gawking at him, but the intensity of his gaze—the heat of it—nearly knocked the breath and the good sense right out of her.

Unprepared for the visual connection or for her reaction to it, she finally broke eye contact by reaching into the silver bowl of nuts.

Three almonds and several sips of champagne later, she found herself turning her head once again—and catching him looking at her as though he’d never stopped.

A surge of sexual awareness shot through her, which didn’t make a bit of sense.

How in the world could her first post-divorce interest in another man be directed at a cowboy? Goodness, Jillian had to be the only woman in Houston who didn’t even like country music.

She tried to chalk it up to curiosity. Or to the fact that he couldn’t be any less like her ex than if she’d joined an online dating service and specifically ordered someone brand-new.

When she turned her head and saw him still studying her intently, she realized that the interest was mutual. She might have been married for the past eight years, but she still remembered the kind of eye contact that went on between a man and woman who were attracted to each other.

Not that the cowboy was flirting with her. Or that she’d even flirt back.

If she were a free spirit, she might have asked him to join her. But that was even crazier than sitting here drinking expensive champagne by herself and ogling a handsome, dark-haired stranger—and a cowboy to boot.

Okay, this was so not like her. She was going to have to motion for the waiter, ask for her bill and then head back to the hotel.

Yet she couldn’t seem to move. Instead she continued to wonder who the cowboy was and what brought him to El Jardin.

Maybe he was waiting for someone—a woman, most likely.

He lifted his longneck bottle and took a swig, then glanced toward the doorway as though he really was expecting someone to join him.

Jillian certainly hoped so. Because if he wasn’t, if he was unattached, if he came over to her table…

She wasn’t sure what she’d do.



Shane Hollister couldn’t take his eyes off the classy blonde who sat all alone, practically begging for a guy to mosey on up and ask if she’d like some company.

She’d caught him looking at her on several occasions, too. And each time, he’d been tempted to toss her a smile. But he’d kept a straight face, since the last thing he needed today was for her to get the wrong idea and send a drink his way.

Or worse yet, invite him to join her.

Not that he wouldn’t be sorely tempted. After all, she was attractive—the kind of woman some men—especially the insecure and weak type—might put on a pedestal.

Shane usually avoided women like her. Those classy beauties were high maintenance and a lot more trouble than a common man wanted to deal with, especially today.

He glanced again at the entrance, a habit he’d acquired during his years as a detective with the Houston Police Department.

His waitress, a dark-haired woman in her early thirties, offered him a smile and nodded toward his nearly empty bottle. “Can I get you another beer?”

“Sure.”

Again, his gaze was drawn to the blonde drinking champagne.

Maybe she was waiting for someone. Cristal, even a split, was a pricey order for someone to consume alone.

Of course, by the looks of that fancy handbag she carried and the clothes she was wearing, he had a feeling that price was the last thing she considered when making a purchase. Even her hair and makeup appeared to have been styled and applied by professionals.

In fact, everything about her implied grace and class, from a sizable pair of diamond earrings, to the trendy, rainbow-colored jacket she wore over a black top and slacks, all of which had to be designer wear.

But even with the bling or the extra effort she’d put into her wardrobe, hair and makeup, he had a feeling she’d look just as stunning in worn cotton and faded denim.

The cocktail waitress was more his type, though—more down-to-earth and approachable. That is, if he wanted to hook up with a woman instead of heading over to his brother’s house for his nephew’s birthday party late this afternoon.

If truth be told, though, he wasn’t all that eager to face the squealing kids, with sticky hands and chocolate on their faces. Not that he didn’t love them, but ever since he’d lost his son, it had torn him up to be around children.

And that was why he’d decided to have a beer before facing the Hollister clan today.

Of course, he didn’t usually frequent fancy places like El Jardin, but he’d had some papers to sign at the escrow office down the street and decided to stop here, since it wasn’t likely he’d be offered anything stronger than a soda when he arrived at Jack’s house.

Ever since Joey’s death, Shane’s big, extended family—none of whom had been teetotalers—had cut way back on alcohol consumption, at least whenever Shane was around.

Okay, so he’d gone over the deep end for a while and they’d thought his drinking had become problematic. He doubted any of his siblings would have handled the grief any differently than he had back then. Besides, he’d taken control of his life again.

He glanced at his wristwatch. He probably ought to call back the cocktail waitress and cancel his order. Yet for some reason, he turned back to the sophisticated blonde who was spending a lot more time studying the elegant flute in her hand than drinking from it—when she wasn’t looking his way.

There was something going on between the two of them, and whatever it was held a bit of a promise, at least for the here and now.

If Shane hadn’t already agreed, albeit reluctantly, that he’d make a showing at little Billy’s birthday party, he might flash her a smile and come up with some clever way to strike up a conversation—something that didn’t sound like a worn-out pickup line.

As it was, he’d better leave well enough alone. He was more cowboy than cop these days, and she didn’t seem to be the kind of woman who would find either very appealing.

Still, he continued to glance across the room for what he swore would be the very last time.

She wore a lonely expression on that pretty, heart-shaped face. Her frown and the crease in her brow suggested she carried a few burdens herself.

Was she running from her own demons, too?

Or was she just thinking about another lonely Friday night?

Before he could even attempt his best guess, a guy seated near her table got to his feet, swaying a bit before starting toward her.

Shane’s protective nature sparked, and he sat upright in his seat, listening as the guy spoke loud enough for the whole room to hear.

“Hey, come on, honey. Don’t you want some company?”

The blonde stiffened and said something to the guy. Shane couldn’t hear her words, but he suspected they’d been something short and to the point.

On the other hand, her body language spoke volumes, and only an idiot—or a drunk—would ignore it.

Sure enough, the snockered fool pulled out the chair next to hers and took a seat, clearly ignoring her verbal response, as well as all the outward signs of her disinterest.

Shane expected her to put the jerk in his place, but she looked to the right and left, as if searching for the waiter. What she needed was a bouncer, although Shane doubted a place like El Jardin had to use the services of one very often.

Did he dare try to come to her rescue?

Oh, what the hell.

He got to his feet, grabbed his hat—leaving his beer behind—and sauntered to the pretty blonde’s table, determined not to make a scene.

“Hi, honey,” he said. “I’m sorry I was late. Did you have to wait long?”

“I…uh…” She searched his eyes as if trying to figure out what he was doing, where he was going.

He reached out his hand to her, and she studied it for a moment, not understanding what he was trying to do—and that was to avoid causing a scene that was sure to draw unnecessary attention to her. But she seemed to catch on, because she took his hand and allowed him to draw her to her feet.

“I didn’t think my meeting would take so long,” he said.

“I understand. I knew you’d come as soon as you could get away.”

Shane brushed a kiss on her cheek, then turned to the drunk. “Excuse me, but that’s my seat.”

“I…” The drunk furrowed his brow, then got to his feet. “Well, hell. She should’ve said something.”

Shane narrowed his eyes. “She did. But maybe you didn’t hear her.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t leave a woman like her waiting. It makes people think she’s free for the taking.”

Shane’s right hand itched to make a fist, but the guy wasn’t going to remember any of this tomorrow. And El Jardin wasn’t the kind of place that lent itself to barroom brawls.

“Speaking of free for the taking,” Shane said, “I’m going to give you some good advice.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s time to call it a day.”

As the waiter who’d been working this side of the bar approached, he asked the blonde, “Is there a problem here?”

She looked at Shane, who nodded at the drunk. “This gentleman is going to need a cab.”

Within seconds, the manager of the bar entered the picture, and the drunken businessman was escorted away.

“Thank you,” the blonde told Shane. “I wasn’t sure what to do about him without making a scene.”

“No problem.”

“They should have quit serving him a long time ago,” she added.

“You’re right. And your waiter is getting an earful from his boss as we speak.”

“What makes you say that?”

“By the look the manager shot at him when he realized how drunk that guy was.”

“I didn’t notice that.”

He shrugged. “I’m observant by nature.”

“Well, I’m glad you stepped in when you did.”

“Me, too.”

Now what? he wondered.

Well, he’d gone this far, so why not?

He glanced at the empty chair across from her. “Is that seat taken?”

It was a lame line, he supposed, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.

“No, it’s not. Would you like to join me?”

Well, how about that? He’d made it to first base. Before pulling out the chair, he extended his hand in greeting. “My name is Shane Hollister.”

“Jillian Wilkes.” As their palms met and her fingers slipped around his, a warm thrill shimmied up his arm and sent his senses reeling.

He had to force himself to release her hand, and as he did so, they each took a seat.

As much as he hated pickup lines and all the small talk that went into meeting someone for the first time, he realized there wasn’t any way around it.

“So what brings you to El Jardin?” he asked.

“I came for a glass of champagne.” She smiled, as though that made perfect sense, but the detective who still lived somewhere deep within found that hard to believe.

She must have read the question in his gaze, because her demeanor grew shy and uneasy.

Why? he wondered, more curious about her than ever. What was her story? Why would a woman like her be in a sophisticated bar all by herself?

Shane glanced at the nearly full bottle. “Are you celebrating a birthday or something?”

“Actually, yes. My divorce is final today.”

He nodded, as though that was a perfectly good reason to drink alone. Heck, he’d downed nearly a bottle of whiskey after his.

Jillian didn’t appear to be tying one on, though. He hadn’t seen her take more than an occasional sip. It must be some kind of mock celebration, which suggested the breakup hadn’t been her idea.

If not, what kind of man let a woman like her slip through his fingers? Or was there more to Jillian Wilkes than just a pretty face and graceful style?

Was she a spendthrift? Or someone who didn’t appreciate a man’s family or his job?

Shane could relate to that, but he wasn’t planning to talk about his past, let alone think about it. So he turned the conversation back to her. “How long were you married?”

“Nearly eight years.”

“Kids?”

A shadow darkened those sea-blue eyes. “No.”

Had they split for that reason? Some people wanted children; others didn’t.

He regretted his curiosity, yet couldn’t shake the raging interest. “Something tells me you’re only putting on a happy face.”

She twisted a silky strand of hair in a nervous fashion. “I’ll be okay. Really. And to be honest, I’m looking forward to the changes my new life will bring.”

“Was the divorce your idea?” Shane didn’t know why it mattered. But it did.

“I had higher expectations from the marriage than he did.” She shrugged, then said, “I believe that promises should be kept, that marriages are meant to last and that people in love need to honor and protect each other from heartbreak, not dish it out.”

The guy must have screwed around on her. If so, he was a fool. Or so it seemed. “He left you for someone else?”

“A lot of somebodies.” She lifted her glass, took a sip.

He watched the movements in her throat as she swallowed, amazed at how something so simple, so basic, could practically mesmerize him and send his blood humming through his veins.

She leaned forward. “And what about you, Shane?”

What about him?

He wasn’t about to spill his guts. Still, her self-disclosure was a little refreshing, and he found himself admitting, “I was married, but not anymore.”

“Do you mind if I ask why not?”

Yeah, he minded. He’d rather keep things focused on her and on why she was here. On the soft sound of her voice, the stunning blue of her eyes, the graceful way she sat before a glass of champagne and hardly took a drink.

But he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be honest.

“My ex-wife didn’t like my job,” he admitted.

She’d also resented his family. But he kept part of the equation to himself.

“What do you do for a living?” Jillian asked.

He hesitated before answering. “I’m a ranch hand on a little spread about two hours from here. But when I was married, I had a job that kept me away from home a lot.”

He’d also had a competent—and beautiful—female partner who’d managed to gain the respect of the entire precinct, and a wife who’d been jealous of the time they’d spent together, even though it had always been work-related. But there really wasn’t any reason to go into that.

“My husband,” she began, “or rather, my ex- husband, traveled on business, too. But I hadn’t bargained on his infidelity while he was on the road, and I refused to forgive him for it.”

Something in her eyes, in the gentle tone of her voice, convinced him she was being honest.

Again, his conscience rose up, suggesting he unload his whole story on her. But what was the use? He knew nothing would amount from this…whatever this was. A mere conversation, he supposed. A pleasant diversion for two battered ships passing on a lonely night.

It was too early to predict anything more. And with him living and working two hours away in Brighton Valley… Well, there wasn’t much chance of this becoming anything else.

She leaned forward. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, go ahead.” But Shane couldn’t guarantee an answer.

“Do all men cheat?” Those brilliant tropical-blue eyes nailed him to the back of his seat. “Did you?”

The raw emotion bursting from her question—both of them, actually—took him aback, but he was glad he could be open and honest with her, at least about that. “I suppose a lot of men are tempted, and some give in to it. But I didn’t.”

He’d been brought up in the church and had been an altar boy, which didn’t necessarily mean anything. But more important, his parents had been happily married for nearly forty years. Divorce had never seemed like an option to him. And neither had lying to or cheating on a spouse.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She slid him a pretty, relief-filled smile, as if he were some kind of hero.

A man could get used to having a woman look at him like that. And while Shane had never really thought of himself as particularly heroic, even when he’d been one of Houston’s finest, it was nice to be appreciated for the values he did have.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to join me for dinner,” she said.

Her suggestion, which was more than a little tempting, knocked him off kilter, especially since he had other plans.

He didn’t need to look at his watch again to know that it was time for him to head across town to Jack’s house for that party. Nor did it take much for him to envision a houseful of kids on sugar highs.

But that kind of scene didn’t bother him too much. What really got to him, what shook him to the core, was the sight of an infant nursing at its mother’s breast or a toddler bouncing on daddy’s knee.

He loved his nieces and nephews—even the babies. He really did. It’s just that whenever he was around them, he was reminded of his loss and his pain all over again.

“It would be my treat,” Jillian said, those azure eyes luring him to forget what he’d set out to do in Houston today—and soundly winning the battle.

“Either I pay for dinner or we split it,” he said. “I’m old-fashioned about things like that.”

“All right. We’ll split it, then.” She blessed him with an appreciative smile. “I’ve never liked eating alone.”

Riding solo—at meals or through life—had become a habit for Shane, but right now, he was looking forward to spending a little more time with Jillian, even if he knew that’s as far as things would go.

“Where do you want to have dinner?” he asked.

“I have a room at a hotel down the street. Why don’t we eat there?”

In her room?

Or at the hotel?

“They have a couple of nice restaurants to choose from,” she added.

Okay, so she hadn’t issued a dinner-with-benefits invitation.

“Eating at the hotel sounds good to me.”

Besides, if the stars aligned just right, the hotel would certainly be…convenient.

And for some reason, Shane was feeling incredibly lucky tonight.




Chapter Two


Nearly four weeks later, Jillian stood in the small bathroom of her apartment and stared at the results of the home pregnancy test she’d purchased earlier that day.

Her tummy clenched as she watched a light blue plus sign grow darker and brighter, providing the news she couldn’t quite grasp.

Pregnant?

How could that be? Surely there was a mistake.

She blinked twice, hoping that her vision would clear, that the blue would fade to white, that the obvious result in front of her wasn’t real. But the truth was impossible to ignore. She conceived a baby the one and only time she’d slept with a stranger.

“This can’t possibly be happening,” she said aloud, as if she could actually argue with reality. “We used protection that night.”

But her words merely bounced off the pale green bathroom walls.

Was an unexpected pregnancy fate’s way of punishing her for an indiscretion she’d never have again?

If so, it didn’t seem fair. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d set out to find someone to help her make it through the first night of her post-divorce life. She’d been too caught up in the legal and emotional aspects of the paperwork she’d just signed, the small settlement she’d received and the pain of Thomas’s betrayal to even give a new relationship a second thought.

She blew out a ragged sigh, still unable to tear her eyes away from the test results that taunted her.

The irony of it all amazed her. Thanks to Shane’s quiet departure from her room that night, they’d completely avoided the typical “Now what?” questions that usually cropped up after two consenting adults had sex for the first time. But here she was, facing an ever bigger “Now what?” on her own.

Having a baby was going to change her plans to get a teaching credential and land a job right afterward. How did she expect to support herself and a child while attending school? And day care for an infant was very expensive.

“A baby?” she whispered. As much as she’d always wanted to be a mother, she couldn’t help thinking that the timing was off—way off.

She placed the palm of her hand on her flat stomach and tried to imagine the enormous changes facing her now.

Another woman might have considered all of her options, especially adoption, but Jillian felt she would just have to figure out a way to make it all work out.

Somehow, some way, she would come to grips with her pregnancy and motherhood. She’d have to.

She moved her hand upward, from her womb to her heart, where the beat quickened as reality began to sink in.

Should she call someone? She certainly could use a confidant right now.

In the past, whenever she’d had a crisis, she’d go to her grandmother for advice. Gram had always been there for her. When Jillian had learned that Thomas had been cheating, Gram had been the one she’d turned to, the one who’d offered her full support.

“I know this hurts now,” Gram had said, “but you’re going to come out on top of all this. You’re a survivor. You’ll meet someone else someday, someone who truly deserves you.”

At the time, while the idea of meeting a white knight in shining armor had put a glimmer of hope back in her heart, Jillian had feared that her marriage to Thomas might have left her skeptical of even the most loyal and honest of men.

Maybe that’s why she’d invited Shane back to her hotel room that night—in the hope that her white knight wore a Stetson.

Look where that move had gotten her.

Jillian still couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around the fact that her whole world was about to take a dramatic turn toward the complete unknown. Yet a tiny, comforting smile made its way to her lips. Finally, after years of hoping and praying that she’d conceive a child with Thomas, she was going to have a baby on her own.

Gram would be over the moon to learn that there was going to be a little one to cuddle and love, but she was also very old-fashioned. Hearing that Jillian had slept with her baby’s father on their one and only date, especially when Jillian knew very little—well, practically nothing—about the man, wouldn’t sit well with her. For that reason alone, Jillian didn’t have the courage to call Gram and request advice on her latest “little problem.”

The details of her baby’s conception probably ought to bother Jillian, too, and while she felt a bit embarrassed by having a one-night stand, she wasn’t going to beat herself up over what she’d done.

She’d realized at the time that she might eventually regret her decision to invite Shane back to her hotel room. Yet even the next morning, when she’d awakened in bed and found him gone, her only regret had been that she would never experience love in his arms again.

Even now, standing in the middle of her bathroom, awed by everything that little blue plus sign represented, she couldn’t help thinking back on the morning after their night together, when she should have felt regret—and hadn’t.

The scant light of dawn had just begun to peek through a gap in the curtains, when she’d stretched awake in the king-size bed, the memory of an incredible night slowly unfolding.

Shane’s hands sliding along her curves, hers exploring his well-defined biceps, his muscular chest…

Bodies responding, arching, reaching a breath-stealing peak…a powerful climax, the likes of which she’d never known.

A slow smile had stolen across her lips as she’d reached for the naked cowboy lying beside her…only to feel the cool sheets across an empty mattress.

For a moment, in her sleep-fogged mind, she’d wondered if the amazing sex had just been a dream. But as she’d sat up in bed and opened her eyes, the covers had slipped to her waist, and the morning air had whispered across her bare breasts.

She’d blinked several times, then scanned the bedroom of her hotel room, looking for evidence of the handsome cowboy she’d met the night before. But she’d found no sign of him—no clothes, no hat, no boots.

As she’d surveyed the king-size bed on which she sat, the comforter that had slipped to the floor during the night and the rumpled sheets, she’d realized she hadn’t been dreaming. Just to be sure, she’d reached for one of the pillows on the other side of the bed, lifted it to her nose and breathed in the masculine scent he’d left behind, the proof that he’d really been with her.

Yes, she’d realized. Shane Hollister had been the real deal, and the events that had sparked it all began to unfold in her mind. The slow dance they’d shared, the sweet words he’d whispered above the music, Your ex-husband was a fool, Jillian.

The arousing kiss that had followed…

The haze of heat and passion…

As the memory grew stronger, she recalled threading her fingers through his hair, pulling his lips closer, his tongue deeper. And when the kiss had gotten too hot to handle, she’d taken him by the hand and led him to her room.

No, their night together had been so much more than a dream.

And now?

She glanced down at the pregnancy test that announced she was facing yet another life-altering change.

Again, she thought about calling someone, a friend maybe. But she certainly couldn’t reach out to any of the women who were still part of the Wilkeses’ social circle.

Katie Harris, Jillian’s college roommate, came to mind. Years ago, the two of them had been exceptionally close, but they’d drifted apart after graduation.

Jillian had meant to remedy that situation as soon as she was settled in her new place, although she hadn’t gotten around to it yet. She could make that call now, of course, but she didn’t want their very first chat to be an embarrassing tell-all. So when she did take the time to connect with Katie, she would keep her news and her dilemma to herself, at least for a while.

What about Shane? she wondered. Telling him was probably the right thing to do. But could she even find him?

Leaving the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter, she went to her bedroom and opened the bureau drawer, where she’d put the note Shane had propped against the bathroom mirror before leaving her room that morning.

On the hotel letterhead, he’d written:

Dear Jillian,

I can’t begin to thank you for a wonderful evening. I nearly woke you when I had to leave, but you looked so peaceful lying there that I didn’t have the heart to disturb your sleep.

Last night was amazing. You were a gift I didn’t deserve, and one I’ll always cherish.

If you’re ever in my neck of the woods, look me up. My friend and boss, Dan Walker, owns a spread that’s located near Brighton Valley. He’ll know how to contact me.

Either way, thanks for a memorable evening.

Shane

Jillian held the note for a while, studying the solid script, the bold strokes. She’d kept it as a souvenir of the magical night she’d spent with a cowboy. But now? It was all she had left of the man.

Well, that and the baby growing in her womb.

She could look him up, she supposed. And while tempted to do just that, she had to face the facts. What they’d shared had been far more therapeutic than a glass of champagne could ever be, but it was just a one-night thing. Anything else was wishful thinking on her part.

After all, she’d already given up her dreams for one man. There was no way she’d ever do that again.

Besides, what could possibly develop between her and a cowboy? Other than the physical intimacy they’d shared that night, they were pretty much strangers to each other.

Still, there was a baby to consider.

A wave of apprehension washed over her. Did she have to tell him? Would he even want to know?

She wasn’t sure, but there wasn’t any reason to make a game plan right this minute. Not when she was still struggling with the news herself.

A baby.

Once again, she placed her hand on her stomach, over the womb in which her little one grew. She had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but one thing was certain: She would raise her baby in a loving home, no matter what kind of man its daddy proved to be.

But there was something else she had to consider. Having a child together gave them far more in common than she’d even been able to imagine in the heat of the moment.

And whether she liked it or not, it was only fair to tell Shane he was going to be a father.



After a long day at the ranch and a stop at the cellular-phone store, Shane made the fifteen-minute drive home, dog-tired and muscles aching.

He’d no more than pulled his key from the front door when his new cell phone vibrated. So he pulled it out of his pocket and answered without checking the number on the display.

Out of habit, he answered, “This is Hollister.”

“Shane, it’s Jack.”

His brother never called just to shoot the breeze. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. We haven’t heard from you in weeks. Hell, I’ve tried to cut you some slack after all you’ve been through, but things are getting worse. You’ve become really inconsiderate.”

“Now, wait a second, little brother. I might not be living in Houston these days, playing golf with you guys and eating Sunday dinner, but I’ve been busy—not inconsiderate.”

“Oh, no? Last month, you missed Billy’s birthday party. You told us you’d stop by, but you never even showed up.”

Shane turned on the lamp and shut the door, locking it for the night. “Something came up at the last minute, and I couldn’t make it.”

“Yeah, well you should have called to let someone know. We were worried about you.”

“I did call, and Evan answered. I guess he didn’t give you the message.”

“Evan’s only six years old, Shane. He can’t be trusted to take messages.”

“I figured that, so I asked him to put you or his mom on the line, but apparently he was too busy chasing after Emily to give the phone to someone older, so he told me to call back later.” Shane took a seat on the chair nearest to the door and kicked off his dusty boots.

“Okay, so you’re off the hook for the no-show at the birthday party,” Jack said, “but I’ve tried calling you several times today, and your phone never even rang through.”

“I lost my cell and wasn’t able to replace it until about twenty minutes ago.”

“Where’d you lose it?”

“If I knew that, then it wouldn’t be lost, would it?”

Jack blew out an exasperated sigh. “All right. So that was a dumb question. But what was so important that you couldn’t make it to Billy’s party?”

Shane had never been one to kiss and tell. He supposed he could say that he’d met a woman and leave it at that, which would have pleased Jack and the rest of the family no end. But meeting a woman implied that he’d found her promising enough to keep seeing her, which wasn’t exactly the case.

Yet Jack didn’t need to know any of that. The only way to keep him in the dark was to stretch the truth, which wasn’t the same as lying, but still went against Shane’s grain. “Let’s just say that I met an old friend, and the time just slipped away.”

“A female friend.”

Shane couldn’t blame Jack for hoping that Shane had met someone special, but that hadn’t happened.

“Who is she?” Jack asked, connecting the dots.

But Shane didn’t want to go into it—any of it. Jillian had been more than a one-night stand. She’d been a one-night memory, and he wasn’t about to share the details with anyone.

“It wasn’t a woman,” Shane lied. “I met up with an old friend, a guy I used to work with.”

The first stretch of the truth had seemed necessary, but the actual lie gnawed at his conscience. Shane had always been straight up with his family and the people he cared about. But there really hadn’t been another way around it if he wanted to maintain his privacy and keep the details from becoming Facebook fodder for the Hollisters, who were into that sort of thing.

Shane set aside his boots, then crossed the living room to the kitchen area.

“Well, you still ought to call home once in a while and let us know you’re still alive and kicking. Hell, you could be laying in a morgue as a John Doe for all we know.”

This was Jack speaking? The same brother who’d gone off to college and hadn’t called home until their parents had complained to the Dean of Students?

“You’re going to have to start over,” Shane said. “What’s the real problem here?”

“Hell, Shane. I know you’re busy. But Mom’s been worried about you. She hasn’t seen you in months or heard from you in weeks.”

Shane, who’d just reached for a glass in the kitchen cupboard, paused for a beat—long enough to flinch from a jab of guilt. Then he released a wobbly sigh. “I didn’t realize it had been so long, Jack. Tell her I’m fine and not to worry about me. Riding herd is a lot easier—and safer—than chasing the bad guys in Houston.”

“Tell her yourself. She’s been lighting candles and going to mass all week. Under the circumstances, what with knowing how much you liked being a cop, she’s stressing about your mental health.”

Shane tensed. Sylvia Dominguez, his former partner, had been a little worried about the same thing—at least for a while. And he couldn’t really blame her or his family for being concerned. He’d gone a little crazy a while back, after he’d been put on suspended duty for letting his heart, his grief and his temper get away from him. But after a sobering confrontation with his dad, he realized what he was doing to himself. So he stopped closing down bars and started facing his demons instead.

Facing them?

Yeah, right. That’s why his old life was in Houston and he was living in a cramped studio apartment more than two hours away. It was also why it took forever to fall asleep at night.

Of course, the insomnia might be a thing of the past now that he had thoughts of pretty Jillian to chase away the nocturnal shadows that kept the sandman at bay.

He wondered how long that was going to last.

A lot longer than their short time together, he hoped.

“Did you hear me?” Jack asked.

“Yeah.” And he’d already forgotten what they’d been talking about. “I’m just a little scattered tonight. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, but Mom’s another story.”

“Tell her that my mental health is fine,” Shane said. “It’s amazing what a change of scenery will do.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But don’t be a stranger.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to check in more often.”

Jack paused a beat, then added, “If you ever need anyone to talk to, you know I’m here for you.”

This particular brother was a good listener, as well as a peacemaker. So in the Hollister family, that made him invaluable.

“You never should have let Cindy talk you out of the priesthood,” Shane said. “You would have made a good one.”

Jack laughed. “Maybe so. But give Mom a call, will you?”

Shane glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s nearly nine o’clock on a Thursday night. She’s probably down at the parish playing bingo.”

“You don’t need to call tonight. But after that mess with Internal Affairs and your leave of absence, she’s been stressing something awful. You know how it is.”

Yeah, he did. And he hadn’t meant to cause her any more grief. He’d put the family through enough already, which had been another good reason to leave Houston.

Hoping to change the subject, he asked, “How’s everyone else doing?”

“Good, for the most part. Colleen’s on the dean’s list at Baylor again. Stevie left for the police academy yesterday. And Mary-Lynn’s expecting again.”

“Is Dad doing all right?”

“Yeah, but he’d like to hear from you, too.”

“I’ll call home in the morning.”

After disconnecting the line and putting the receiver back in the charger, Shane plunked a couple of ice cubes into his glass, filled it full of tap water and took a nice, long swig.

Any other night, he might have been tempted to fix himself a real drink, but memories of Jillian were still too fresh in his mind. And despite their time together being purposefully short, it was also the kind of memory that was worthy of keeping…sacred in a way. And Shane wasn’t about to lessen or cheapen it.

Those magical hours spent in her bed had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience, one he’d been reluctant to end.

As dawn had threatened to break over Houston, he’d drawn her close to his chest and savored the fragrance of her shampoo, the faint floral whiff of her perfume.

She’d slept with her bottom nestled in his lap, and he’d felt himself stirring, rising to the occasion—again. But even if they hadn’t gone through the only condom they’d had during the night, time hadn’t been on his side.

As he’d glanced through an opening in the heavy curtains and seen the night fading into dawn, he’d carefully slid his arm from under her head, trying his best not to wake her. Because a cowboy didn’t call in sick, especially if the only excuse he had was a beautiful woman in his bed. So he’d snatched his wrinkled shirt and jeans from the floor.

He’d found himself dragging his feet, not wanting to go, not ready to end what they’d shared.

Why had it felt as though they’d created some kind of invisible bond, some reason for him to linger?

Probably because their lovemaking had been so good. That had to be it.

Besides, Shane wasn’t ready for a relationship. And he wasn’t sure if he ever would be again.

So he’d quickly gotten dressed, wishing he could think of a better way to say goodbye. But he hadn’t been able to come up with anything that wouldn’t have created some kind of promise he couldn’t keep. And that wouldn’t have been fair to her.

Not that he didn’t want to see her again. But they had very little in common, and their lives were headed in different directions.

His only regret had been slipping out of her bed at nearly five in the morning and leaving a note, which might have cheapened the whole thing.

Last night was amazing, he’d written. You were a gift I didn’t deserve, and one I’ll always cherish.

And while he’d struggled to choose the right words, he’d meant every one of them.

He supposed he could try to find her again. His detective skills and his connections wouldn’t make it too hard. But Jillian wasn’t the kind of woman who’d fit into Shane’s life, whether it was in Houston or Brighton Valley.

He’d already gone through one star-crossed relationship that he shouldn’t have let get off the ground, and he’d lost his son because of it.

No, he’d just have to let well enough alone. After all, if something between them was meant to be, then he’d run into her again. No need for him to chase after something that was sure to crash and burn.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t sorely tempted to look her up in Houston. He’d love to spend one more night together.

They might end the evening in a blaze of glory, but what a way to go…?.




Chapter Three


In spite of knowing their time together had been a one-shot deal, Shane hadn’t been able to get Jillian out of his mind.

Several times he’d actually thought seriously about looking her up in Houston. She hadn’t given him a lot to go on, but he still had a few contacts at the police department who’d be able to help him out. Yet when push came to shove, he’d decided to let well enough alone.

That is, until he was urged to attend his niece’s first communion in Houston on Sunday morning. After he’d missed Billy’s birthday party a while back and created such a stir within the family, he’d decided to make a showing this time, even though he’d rather be anywhere than in a church on Sunday morning, especially if it required a confession.

It’s not that he had some huge sin hanging over his head, but he wasn’t ready to make things right with God when he still blamed the Big Guy Upstairs for allowing Joey to die. But he supposed he’d deal with that tomorrow morning.

Right now, he was headed to the city a day early, determined to see Jillian while he was there. Through his connections, he’d gotten her address just minutes ago: 237 Bluebonnet Court, apartment 16.

It had been exactly six weeks and a day since they’d met that magical evening in Houston, but the memory was still as strong and vivid as if it had only been yesterday.

After they’d split the bill that evening, Shane had insisted on being the one to leave a generous tip for the wait staff. Then he’d walked with her to The Rio, the hotel lounge that provided music and high-priced drinks to some of Houston’s more exclusive crowd.

Shane wasn’t used to hanging out at places like that, and he knew he’d been underdressed, but he’d been with Jillian, who belonged to that world.

“The music sounds good,” she’d said.

At that point, being with her would make anything sound good. But she’d been right. The band was great.

As they’d made their way toward an empty table near the dance floor, Shane had placed his hand on the small of her back, claiming her in front of all the rich, fancy folks who’d gathered for an after-dinner drink.

She’d leaned against him and slid her arm around his waist in a move that seemed so natural, so right, that he wanted to hang on tight and never let go.

Then the music, something soft and slow, began to play and he hadn’t been able to do anything other than to pull her into his embrace and dance cheek to cheek. As they’d swayed to a love song, as he’d inhaled her tropical scent, she’d melded into him as though they’d been made to dance with each other for the rest of their lives.

Something powerful had surged between them, something hot, soul stirring and arousing.

He’d taken her hand and brushed his lips across her wrist. As she’d looked at him, her lips parting, she’d gripped his shoulder as though her knees would have buckled if she hadn’t.

And that’s when he’d kissed her. Right there in the middle of that crowded dance floor.

As their lips parted, his tongue had sought hers, and they were swept away to some carnal place, where the music stopped and the room grew silent. At least, he could have sworn it had happened that way.

For a moment, he’d forgotten where they were, who they were. All he’d been aware of was a raging desire that promised to bring about something he’d never experienced before.

Then the music really did stop, and he’d come to his senses, albeit reluctantly. As he broke the kiss, he’d continued to hold Jillian tight, and with his lips resting near her temple, he’d confessed, “I don’t normally do things like this.”

“Neither do I.”

As they’d slowly stepped apart, she’d closed her eyes and, after taking a deep breath, said, “I…uh…have a room upstairs.”

Shane hadn’t been sure he’d heard right or if he’d somehow come to the wrong conclusion, so he’d waited a beat, hoping she’d spell it out for him. Then she did just that by taking his hand and leading him out of The Rio and to the elevators.

As the memory rolled on, just as it did each time a specific clip from that night began to play in his mind, he tried his best to shake it off. But damn. What an amazing evening that had been.

If truth be told, he’d been more than a little sorry that it had ended before he’d gotten a chance to see if a long-distance relationship between two people with nothing in common but great sex could actually work.

Now, as he gripped the steering wheel of his pickup and watched the street signs for Bluebonnet Court, the heated memory still remained front and center in his mind.

Of course, seeing her again didn’t mean he was interested in starting a relationship. It was just a matter of satisfying his curiosity.

Would Jillian be glad to see him? Had she, too, found it impossible to forget all they’d shared that night?

Shane certainly hoped so. He’d just have to take things one step at a time.

As he turned and drove down the tree-lined street and approached a modest apartment complex, he wondered if the address he’d found for her was wrong. Jillian had been dressed to the nines and sporting diamonds when they’d met, and this neighborhood didn’t seem like the part of town that would suit her taste or her designer pocketbook.

But there was only one way to find out.

He parked his truck in one of the spaces available for guests, then made his way to Jillian’s apartment, hoping she was home.

And that she’d be glad to see him.



When the doorbell sounded, Jillian had been sitting on the sofa, reading over her college schedule. She hadn’t been expecting company, and since she hadn’t found time to meet any of the neighbors, she wasn’t sure who it could be.

She had a feeling it might be her grandmother, though. Ever since Jillian had moved into the apartment, Gram had been stopping by with one surprise or another, such as kitchen gadgets, household necessities and decorator items.

Yesterday, she’d brought a framed watercolor print that she’d picked up at a garage sale, which was now hanging on the living room wall. That particular piece of art was a far cry from the expensive paintings and sculptures that had adorned the various homes Jillian had once shared with Thomas, but it reflected her new, simple lifestyle.

During the course of her marriage, Jillian had tried so hard to do everything Thomas and his family had expected her to do that she’d almost forgotten who she really was. So she was determined to reclaim herself and become the woman she should have been before Thomas Wilkes had come along. And creating a home for herself, decorated to her own taste and comfort, was part of the process.

Expecting to see Gram with another surprise in her arms, Jillian swung open the door with a smile. But when she spotted Shane Hollister, the smile faded and surprise took its place.

The cowboy was just as handsome as she remembered, maybe more so. And his smile, which was both boyish and shy, sent her senses reeling.

“I would have called first, but I didn’t have your number.” He lifted the brim of his hat with an index finger.

He hadn’t had her address, either, but she was so stunned to see him again, so mesmerized by his familiar, musky scent, that she couldn’t seem to find the words to respond or to question him.

But her gaze was hard at work, checking him out and soaking him in. He’d shaved, which had softened his rugged edge a bit, but he still wore a Stetson, jeans and boots—clearly a cowboy through and through.

“If this isn’t a good time,” he said, those luscious brown eyes glimmering as he broke the silence, “I can come back another day.”

“No, it’s not that.” She stepped aside to let him in. “It’s just that I…”

“…didn’t expect to see me again?” He tossed her a crooked grin that darn near turned her inside out.

She managed a smile of her own. “How’d you find me? I didn’t even have an address to give you when we met.”

“It’s amazing what a person can learn over the internet.”

Jillian wasn’t sure if she should be happy he’d found her or concerned by it. After all, she didn’t know very much about him, other than the fact that he hadn’t always been a cowboy, and that he was divorced.

And that he’d claimed to be a tumbleweed, while they’d had dinner that night, which was a little worrisome. If he was indeed prone to wander and not set down roots, he wouldn’t be the kind of father she wanted for her baby. That alone had seemed like the perfect excuse not to contact him so far.

Not that she’d made a solid decision yet. She would need to know more about him before she could allow him to be involved in the baby’s upbringing.

And as luck would have it, here was her chance. So she swept her arm toward the brown tweed sofa that had once been in Gram’s den and the faux leather recliner that had belonged to her grandfather. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” He placed his hat on one side of the sofa, then sat on the middle cushion. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Just her conscience and her good sense.

“No, not really.” She combed her fingers through her hair, suddenly wondering what she looked like without any makeup, without having used a brush since this morning.

“I have a family function in Houston,” he said, “so, while I was in the area, I thought I’d stop by and say hello. I also thought it might be nice to have dinner together.”

The last time they’d shared a meal, she’d invited him to spend the night. Was he expecting the same thing to happen again?

She could certainly see where he might. When they’d danced in each other’s arms at The Rio, the sexual attraction had ignited. She’d never had a one-night stand before, so she’d struggled with her conscience before inviting him up to her room. But only momentarily.

Once she’d had that sweet experience, she hadn’t been sorry about it, either. Shane had been an incredible lover who’d done amazing things with his hands and his mouth, taking her places she’d never gone before. Ever.

If truth be told, she was sorely tempted to have him take her there again.

But look where sexual attraction and throwing caution to the wind had gotten her—pregnant with the cowboy’s baby.

“What do you say?” he asked, clearly picking up on how torn she was between a yes or a no.

Getting involved with him again would certainly complicate her life, so she was tempted to decline and send him on his way. But what did she know about the man who’d fathered her baby? And what was she supposed to tell her child when he or she inevitably asked the daddy questions?

“We really don’t have much in common,” she admitted. Nothing other than a baby, of course.

“Well, we don’t know that for sure. We never really had a chance to talk much that night.”

He was right about that. Even though they’d known each other’s bodies intimately, the rugged cowboy was pretty much a stranger to her—as she was to him.

But he’d also put her healing process on the fast track and had made her feel desirable again.

So did that make them friendly strangers?

Or strangers with benefits…?

Jillian fiddled momentarily with the silver pendant that dangled from her necklace, then made the decision. “All right. Let me freshen up and change my clothes.”

His smile nearly took her breath away, as he leaned back in his seat. “No problem. Take your time.”

Thirty minutes later, she and Shane entered a little Italian restaurant he’d recommended. She’d chosen to dress casually in black jeans and a pale blue sweater.

At least on the outside, she and Shane appeared to be a better match than they had before, but for some reason she felt like a late-blooming high school senior about to enter the adult world for the first time.

“This place isn’t as nice as the hotel restaurant,” Shane said, “but the food is out of this world.”

Jillian took a hearty whiff of tomatoes and basil, not doubting Shane about the taste. “It sure smells good.”

After the hostess seated them at a quiet table for two, a busboy brought them water with lemon and a basket of freshly baked bread.

“So what do you do for a living?” Shane asked.

Jillian had planned to be the first one to start asking questions, but she supposed they both had a lot to learn about each other. “Right now, I’m planning to go back to school, but I’ll be looking for part-time work soon.”

“What kind of job did you have before?”

She hated to admit that she’d never worked, even though she’d kept pretty busy. But she doubted that he’d care about her philanthropic endeavors—the hospital board on which she’d served or the women’s club, of which she’d been the chair. She was proud of her contributions, of course, but her heart hadn’t been in the projects that had been hand chosen by Thomas—or rather, by his mother. The trouble was, until recently, her volunteerism had been her life, her work. Her only legitimate purpose in the world.

For some reason, she felt as though she ought to apologize or make excuses while explaining that she had high hopes for the future. “I didn’t have a regular job, but I did volunteer work for several charitable organizations over the past few years.”

He seemed to mull that over for a moment, then reached for the bread basket, pulled back the linen cloth that kept it warm and offered her the first slice, which she took.

“So you’re going to take some college classes?” he asked.

“I’m getting a teaching credential.”

“Oh, yeah? You must like kids.”

“I do.”

“But, if I remember correctly, you don’t have any of your own.”

It wasn’t actually a question, just a conclusion he’d obviously come to after something she must have told him. She supposed there was no real reason to respond.

If truth be told, she’d always longed to have a baby—at least two or three. But she and Thomas had never been able to conceive—at least, not together.

And now here she was—unwed and pregnant.

The waiter stopped by to take their orders, which was a relief since she really didn’t want to talk about babies with Shane right now. But her luck didn’t hold.

Once they were alone again, he picked up right where he’d left off. “I guess teaching would be the next best thing to having kids of your own.”

Not really. That thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. Leaving kids out of the equation, she said, “Actually I’d like to be a high school English teacher.”

Shane arched an eyebrow, his skepticism drawing another smile from her, even though she ought to be miffed that he seemed to be as cynical as Thomas had been when she’d first told him her plan to return to college and get her credential.

“Teenagers can be a real pain to deal with,” he said. “Why not teach kindergarten or one of the lower grades?”

“Because I love the written word. And I’d like to make literature and grammar interesting to teenagers, especially those without college aspirations. I want to encourage them to reach their full potential.” She studied his expression, hoping that he was merely questioning the age of the students she wanted to teach and not the work she wanted to do.

When he didn’t seem to find her dream unusual or unfitting, she added, “And not just any kids. I want to work with bright but unmotivated teens from lower socio-economic backgrounds who believe that college is out of their reach.”

“No kidding?”

She shrugged, waiting for him to give her the same, patronizing response Thomas had when she’d shared her plans with him.

Instead, he grinned, creating a pair of sexy dimples in his cheeks. “I hated English in school, but with a teacher like you, I would have tried a lot harder.”

When he looked at her like that, when he smiled, her heart soared in the same way it had the night they’d met. Just being with him again and feeling the growing buzz of sexual awareness was enough to remind her why she’d taken him back to her room, why she’d given in to sweet temptation.

It didn’t take a psychic to see that she’d be tempted to take him to bed again, once he took her home.

So now what?

Why had he come looking for her? Was he interested in making love one more time?

Or was he missing her, missing this—their time together?

Did he want to actually date her? And if so, how did she feel about that?

Long-distance relationships didn’t usually work out. Not that Jillian was ready for anything like that to develop between them. After all, she’d made one mistake by believing a man to be honorable when he wasn’t. She certainly didn’t want to make another one by acting too soon.

Still, spending time with Shane was making her realize that she hadn’t been permanently damaged by her husband’s infidelity and that the right man would come along someday.

Would that man be Shane Hollister?

It was impossible to know after only two evenings together. Besides, she had the baby to consider. So she might as well feel him out about that.

“How about you?” she asked. “Do you have any children?”

The spark in his eyes dimmed, and he seemed to tense. For several long, drawn-out heartbeats, he held his tongue, and she felt compelled to apologize, to sympathize—to do or say something, although she didn’t have a clue what.

Finally, he answered, “No, I don’t.”

Something in his tone, in his demeanor, made her wonder if he liked it that way. If so, how would he react when she finally told him about the baby? Would he be happy? Uneasy? Angry?

Would he worry about being responsible—financially or otherwise—for a child he’d never intended to have?

As curious as she was, as much as his answers mattered, she didn’t push for more. She wasn’t ready for a full-on discussion about babies or kids right now, so she opted to change the subject.

“You mentioned that you used to work in Houston. What did you do?”

He reached for his goblet of water, then took a drink. Finally he said, “I worked for the Houston Police Department, first as a patrolman, then as a detective.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say—that he’d been in sales, she supposed. Or that he’d had a dead-end job of some kind. But a police officer?

Not only did that surprise her, it made her feel a whole lot better about him and the man he was.

“Why did you quit?” she asked.

He grew quiet again, as if she’d unearthed something he didn’t want to talk about. Then he shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

Which meant what? That she wasn’t going to get any more out of him than that?

Who was Shane Hollister?

Before she could quiz him further, the waiter brought their food, lasagna for him and pasta primavera for her, creating a momentary lull in the conversation.

While Shane picked up his fork, Jillian asked again, this time point blank, “Why did you leave the police force?”

Shane dug into his lasagna and took a bite, hoping Jillian would get the hint that he didn’t want to talk in detail about the past. There were too many mitigating factors that had caused him to leave the force, too much other stuff to reveal. And no matter how much he enjoyed her company, he wasn’t ready to spill his guts yet. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be.

“Like I told you,” he said, “it’s complicated.”

She waited a beat, yet didn’t let up on him. “Okay, then tell me about yourself. Where were you born? What kind of childhood did you have?”

He supposed he couldn’t blame her for being curious. He had a lot of questions for her, too.

“There’s not much to tell,” he said. “I was born in Houston and grew up as the youngest of three boys and two girls in a big, close-knit family.”

She leaned forward, as if he’d told her something interesting. “It’s nice that you have a big family.”

He’d always thought so. He watched her spear a piece of broccoli with her fork. The candlelight glistened on the platinum strands of her hair, making her appear radiant and almost…angelic.

Unaware of his gaze, she looked up and smiled. “I never knew my father, so it was only my mom and me at first. After my mother died, I moved in with my grandparents. I’m afraid it’s just Gram and me now.”





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