Still, he’d been friendly enough to her, in his brusque, take-charge way. He didn’t dislike other people, she hazarded; he simply needed time away from them occasionally.
There was no doubt in her mind that Adam Stone was an inherently arrogant man. He’d shown that tendency from the moment he’d stepped through his front door and rescued her from the storm. Whatever it was he did to earn his living, whatever high-powered, high-stress job had driven him to this quiet refuge, she suspected that he was very successful at it—and that his subordinates jumped at his every command.
There was an air of power about him, an almost visible aura of leadership. What would it be like to be that casually self-confident? she wondered wistfully. That convinced of one’s own worth and competence?
She hoped someday to find out for herself.
“Tell me about yourself, Jenny,” Adam startled her by saying when they’d finished eating.
She looked at him warily. “What do you want to know?”
He smiled faintly at her tone. “Whatever you want to tell me. It’s called making conversation. There seems to be little else for us to do at the moment.”
“Oh.” That seemed reasonable enough, she supposed. She didn’t blame him for being curious. After all, hadn’t she just been indulging her own curiosity by speculating about what Adam Stone was really like?
“Are you a native of Texas?” he asked encouragingly, as though to get her started.
She nodded. “Yes. I grew up in a small town fifty miles west of Dallas. What about you? Are you from this area?”
“I grew up in central Arkansas,” he acknowledged. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. I’m an only child. And you?”
“Only child,” he confirmed.
That didn’t surprise her. She would have guessed that he’d been either an only child or an oldest sibling.
“Are your parents still living?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered without embellishment. “Are yours?” She figured if he could ask personal questions just to pass the time, so could she.
“My mother is. My father died when I was eight. Do you see your parents often?”
“No,” she answered flatly. “Do you see your mother?”
He was obviously amused by her determined, question-for-a-question tactic. “Yes, I see my mother quite often. You aren’t close to your parents?”
“No.” But that was something she didn’t want to talk about. “You seemed quite fond of your grandmother when you mentioned her,” she commented instead.
Adam chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Granny Fran’s one of a kind. She’s in her seventies, yet she can run rings around me almost any day. She keeps a close watch on her family—my mother and me, and her son and his family. She seems to take personal responsibility for the happiness and well-being of her four grandchildren, even though we’re all grown now.”
“Are you a close family?” Jenny asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint hint of wistfulness beneath the question.
He gave the question some thought. “I suppose we are,” he said after a moment. “I stay in touch with my cousins, though usually from a distance, since we all lead busy lives. Though I’m the eldest, Rachel, Cody and Celia were my closest approximation to having siblings. We spend most holidays together. We were all together for Christmas, and again for Rachel’s wedding on New Year’s Eve. Even when we don’t see each other for a while, all of them know they can call me anytime they need me and I’ll be there for them.”
Her hand resting on her swollen stomach, Jenny thought of how nice it must be to know one had a close and supportive family to turn to in times of need.
And then she thought of the interesting way Adam had phrased his observation. “Doesn’t it work both ways?” she asked. “Are they available for you when you need them?”
Adam seemed a bit surprised by the question. “I’m sure they would be,” he said. “If I ever needed them, of course.”
Ah, yes, she thought ruefully. Adam Stone couldn’t imagine himself ever being in a position of needing anyone else. He saw himself as the one others turned to, the one with the answers.
She wondered what it would take to shake this man’s supreme self-confidence. And she wondered how he would handle it if he was ever forced to admit that he wasn’t invulnerable.
“You said you’re going to work for a temporary agency in Tennessee,” Adam said, changing the subject. “What work experience do you have?”
This was beginning to sound like an employment interview, Jenny thought with a silent sigh. But, since Adam had taken her in and was feeding and caring for her until she could take care of herself again, she cooperated. “My father owned rental units when I was growing up. I worked in that business from the time I was a teenager—interviewing prospective renters, collecting rent, calling repairmen, even cleaning apartments when necessary.”
“Did you like working in property management?”
“Not particularly,” she admitted. “But I stayed with it until I was in my mid-twenties. My father and I weren’t getting along very well by then, so I moved to Dallas and took a series of clerical jobs. My latest one lasted two years.”
Something in her voice must have caught his attention. His dark eyes were focused intently on her face. “What happened?”
She shrugged and patted her stomach. “This happened.”
“Your baby’s father worked for the same company?”
“He was my supervisor,” Jenny answered without emotion. “He’s divorced, a few years older than I am. We started dating only a few months after I began working for the company. We got along quite well, actually,” she added with forced lightness. “I foolishly believed we were headed for the altar—a tidy, happy-ever-after ending. I temporarily forgot that things like that happen only in fiction.”
“He hurt you,” Adam said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” That’s enough, Jenny. You don’t need to tell him any more.
But Adam’s dark eyes were oddly sympathetic, his deep voice compelling. “Did he break up with you when he found out about the baby?”
“No,” she found herself answering. “Even before that, actually. He took me to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. We had a wonderful evening. I thought I knew how it would end. I was already mentally practicing my acceptance to his marriage proposal.”
“But he didn’t propose.”
She laughed bitterly. “Hardly. He told me that I was a very special person, and that he was very fond of me. And then he told me that he thought we should start seeing other people. We’d been getting too serious, he said. He wasn’t interested in remarrying or getting tied down to another monogamous relationship.”
“And he’d never mentioned that before?”
She shook her head, her mind replaying that humiliating evening in much too vivid detail.
God, she’d been such an idiot.
“Did you know then that you were pregnant?”
Adam’s question penetrated her gloomy thoughts, and she answered automatically. “No. I realized it a few weeks later.”
“Did you tell him?”
“Of course.”
She winced at that even uglier memory. “He refused to accept it. He accused me of trying to trap him. He even implied that he doubted that he was the father. And then he managed to get me fired from my job—very discreetly, of course.”
“So you packed up and headed for Tennessee,” Adam said, guessing at the end of the story.
She nodded ruefully, waiting for him to point out, as her friends had, that she’d made a really stupid mistake.
To his credit, Adam didn’t say it. “Are you going to demand financial assistance from the jerk?” was all he asked.
Jenny lifted her chin and shook her head. “No,” she said proudly. “As far as I’m concerned, this baby has no father. The ‘jerk’ lost all claim when he pretended it wasn’t his.”
“You haven’t seen him
since?”
She made a face. “Once. Two friends took me for a farewell dinner at a nice restaurant in Dallas a couple of weeks ago. He was there, with a tall, slender, stunningly beautiful blonde who had to be at least half his age. He took one look at me in this condition and he almost recoiled in distaste. He managed to greet me politely enough, and then he hustled his blonde away so quickly he nearly left skid marks on the carpet behind them.”
Adam rubbed his chin. “I’ll send someone to hurt the guy, if you want. Something painful and long lasting.”
His tone was so casual, so conversational that Jenny blinked. It almost seemed as though he were serious.
And then she found herself smiling. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I’m quite capable of taking my own revenge, when I want. But thanks for the offer.”
“The offer’s still open. Keep it in mind.”
Still smiling, she looked down at her stomach. “The thing is, I don’t want revenge. I did, at first. I hated Carl. But now I don’t feel anything for him at all. All I know is, despite everything that’s happened, I want this baby. Very much. And somehow, I’m going to take care of it. Alone.”
Adam frowned. “With temporary clerical jobs?”
“If I have to,” she said coolly.
He shook his head. “You’re going to need more help than that. I’ll contact my lawyer. You deserve child support, medical and living expenses. There are ways of making—”
“Wait a minute.” Jenny broke in abruptly, suddenly angry with herself again for telling Adam entirely too much. How did he manage to do that to her?
“You aren’t calling a lawyer,” she informed him flatly. “I don’t want anything from Carl. Or from you, for that matter. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
She couldn’t completely blame him for the doubt in the look he gave her. After all, she’d just admitted that she was estranged from her family, that she’d been dumped by a selfish lover, that she’d lost her job, had taken off alone at eight months pregnant on a chance of getting temporary employment, and then had gotten lost and wrecked her car along the way.
She probably did sound like a charity case, especially to a man like Adam. But he was wrong. Jenny was a survivor. She and her baby would get along just fine, once she got away from this desolate cabin and back on the path she’d chosen.
She could tell he intended to argue. He even opened his mouth to do so, but she cut him off by gathering her breakfast dishes and rising awkwardly to her feet. “Since you cooked, I’ll wash up,” she said. “Would you like more coffee before I empty the pot?”
Adam hesitated, then stood. “I’ll help you with the dishes.”
“You said yourself that the kitchen isn’t big enough for two,” she said pointedly. “Pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit by the fire. This won’t take me long.”
She thought for a moment that he was going to argue about that, too. Instead he frowned, muttered something unintelligible and carried his cup into the kitchen for a refill.
Grateful for the brief respite, Jenny took her time with the dishes. She spent most of the time silently berating herself for letting Adam Stone somehow persuade her to tell him her whole life story.
She was determined that he wouldn’t manipulate her so easily again during the brief time she would be spending with him until she could move on.
* * *
Adam stared moodily into the fire, his coffee growing cold in the mug on the low table beside him. He was thinking of the tale Jenny had told him, wondering what kind of moron could have treated her like that, wondering why she couldn’t turn to her parents for help. He pictured something similar happening in his family—to his younger cousin Celia, for example.
Suppose Celia’s recent whirlwind romance had gone sour, leaving her unemployed and facing single parenthood rather than happily married. There was no way in hell she’d have found it necessary to strike out alone in search of a job. Everyone in the family would have offered assistance, from cash to job references to baby-sitting.
The front door of every home would have been opened to her—including Adam’s, for that matter. Celia would not have been alone. And neither would anyone else in the family during any similar time of need.
Why didn’t Jenny have that same support from her own family?
A wave of unexpected fury crashed though him as he thought of the way she’d been treated by her bastard of a former lover. What he wouldn’t give for just ten minutes with the son of a...
Realizing the direction his thoughts had taken, Adam looked in surprise at his clenched fist.
He deliberately loosened his fingers, telling himself to calm down. It wasn’t as though he were personally involved, after all. This wasn’t someone from his own family, but a woman who was little more than a complete stranger to him. He would do well to keep that in mind.
Jenny Newcomb fully believed that she would be getting back on the road as soon as the ice melted and her car was repaired. She probably expected Adam to see her off with a cheery wave and then promptly put her out of his mind.
She didn’t know him, of course. Those who did could have told her she was wasting her time trying to brush off his assistance. There was no way Adam was going to send this woman off on her own until he was absolutely certain that she would be all right. It just wasn’t in his nature to turn his back on anyone who could benefit from his efficacy—even when his assistance wasn’t exactly requested.
* * *
The morning passed quietly. Jenny had been gratified to discover that Adam had several excellent mystery novels on hand. Adam seemed pleased that she shared his love of a well-crafted suspense story; he highly recommended the one he’d finished the day he’d arrived at the cabin.
Jenny curled up on the sofa with the book and began to read in the grayish, but sufficient, natural light streaming through the cabin’s windows. She was grateful for something to do to distract her from her problems. Adam sat in the chair closest to the fireplace and opened the book he’d been reading the evening before.
They sat for several hours in companionable silence. Adam rose occasionally to add more wood to the cheerfully popping fire. Each time he asked Jenny if she needed anything—something to eat or drink, another pillow or blanket. She politely refused, thinking that for a rather gruff man, Adam could be surprisingly thoughtful. He seemed to be accustomed to the role of caretaker, though Jenny was far from comfortable with the position of being cared for.
She was much more accustomed to taking care of herself.
She didn’t even realize she was sleepy until Adam touched her shoulder and softly said her name.
Blinking, she brought his face into focus, wondering why he was leaning so close to her. “What is it?”
“You fell asleep,” he said with a slight smile. He held up the book she’d been reading. “You dropped your book.”
“Oh.” Embarrassed, she straightened, realizing she’d slumped against the arm of the couch.
He rested one hand against her shoulder. “Lie down and get comfortable,” he urged her. “You probably need a nap.”
Rubbing her cramping right calf with her right hand, Jenny pressed her left hand to her side, where the baby seemed to be kicking a message in Morse code against her ribs. “You don’t understand,” she said wryly. “There is no getting comfortable when you’re in this condition.”
Adam chuckled. “I can imagine.”
“No. Trust me, you can’t.”
“Okay, I can’t,” he agreed cooperatively. “Lie down, Jenny. Get some rest.”
She reluctantly allowed him to ease her down onto the sofa, her head on the pillow he fluffed for her. Again, she wondered how Adam would react should he ever find himself in need of assistance.
She would bet he would like it even less than she did now.
“Are you warm enough?” Adam fretted, tucking the two thick blankets around her.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” she forced
herself to say with a semblance of patience.
Adam paused with his hand spread across her stomach. He grinned suddenly. “The kid can kick, can’t he?”
Flushing a bit at the intimacy of their position, Jenny nodded against the pillow, feeling her baby thumping forcefully against Adam’s palm. “Yes. A future soccer player, I think.”
Adam didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move away. “Boy or girl?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had a test to find out.”
“Any preference?”
“Not really. Like most expectant mothers, I’ll be content either way as long as it’s healthy.”
Adam laughed softly as the baby kicked again and then slid into a leisurely somersault. “It seems healthy enough to me.”
And then he straightened. “Get some rest,” he said, his manner suddenly brusque and bossy again. “I’m going to pour myself a cup of coffee and finish my book.”
She made a face and closed her eyes, thinking with a fleeting surge of resentment that she would like to be around someday when Adam Stone found himself forced to beg.
It would take at least that to make him understand how it felt not to always be the one in control.
* * *
Jenny’s first thought when she awoke was that she’d slept much longer than she’d intended. The room was so dark—had she slept the entire day away?
A sound from the doorway into the kitchen made her rise to her elbow and look around. Adam was just coming into the room, bundled up in a heavy parka, his nose reddened from cold, his dark hair wind tossed. The hems of his jeans were wet, and he’d obviously left his boots at the outer door, since he was wearing only thick socks on his feet. His arms were loaded with oddly familiar-looking bags.
“You’ve been out to my car,” she said, shoving herself awkwardly upright.
He nodded. “Yeah. You really did a number on that front fender. Your car looks like it’s trying to become one with an oak tree.”
She groaned. “I don’t think I want to hear about that right now.”
He dumped the bags in one corner of the room and shrugged out of his snow-powdered parka. “Okay. I won’t tell you that the car’s probably totaled.”
A Home for Adam Page 4