Even now, she was doing her best to rattle his cage and he was fighting back tooth and nail—with self-control.
"We can work things out, Jake,” she said softly, relenting. “I know it. If you'd just stay in Warner."
Jake's anger deflated like a balloon with a fast leak. She looked so brave standing toe-to-toe with him in her suit that matched her lipstick. Brave and strong and beautiful. He'd insulted her, abandoned her, damn near bruised her, and still she hung on. Looking up at him with those clear, trusting blue eyes, holding out an olive branch he desperately wanted to accept.
"I can't, Rebecca,” he said, his voice harsh with regret. I can't do that to you.
Her eyes searched his, too keenly for comfort. He held his ground, but knew he'd lost the battle when she said gently, “You're never going to find what you need anywhere else, Jake."
He sneered in sheer self-defense. “And just how the hell would you know what I need?"
She flinched, and Jake felt as if he'd kicked a kitten.
"I guess I don't,” she said with enough quiet dignity to shame him for the rest of his life. Turning away, she started for her car. As he watched her walk away, head held high, slender back rigidly straight, everything in Jake ached to follow her and apologize. To tell her she was wrong. To tell her he knew he was being a bastard, and why.
Didn't she understand that if he stayed, he'd only let her down again and again? He couldn't give her what she wanted. Couldn't be what she wanted. He didn't have it in him to be that good.
Hadn't he already proven that, over and over again, with his family?
* * * *
"Mom, can Jenna and I go swimming?"
Rebecca looked up from the budget proposal she was trying in vain to proof-read at the kitchen table and smiled, grateful for the interruption. She couldn't focus. Hadn't been able to concentrate on much of anything, in fact, since her daughter and aunt had returned last night. All she could think about was Jake didn't want her, and she hadn't told him he had a daughter.
But she couldn't keep Katie under lock and key because of her own failings. She hadn't heard from Jake since their stalemate Wednesday morning. No surprises there. He'd made himself more than clear concerning any kind of relationship between the two of them. There wasn't going to be one. Knowing about Katie wasn't going to change that.
"Sure, honey, just let me put this budget stuff away and get changed. Why don't you run over and get Jenna, and I'll meet you down by the pool?"
Katie left, and Rebecca closed her eyes, then breathed deeply in a hopeless effort to reclaim the sense of peace she'd prided herself on before Jake's return. It refused to come.
Rebecca knew why. As long as Jake didn't know about Katie, Rebecca was living a lie.
Maybe she could send Katie over to Jenna's for a couple of hours after dinner. Then beard the lion in his den and tell him everything. Get it all out.
Half an hour later, Rebecca was parked in a lounge chair with her favorite Barbara Delinsky, trying her best to relax while the girls splashed and squealed in the pool. Reaching for her glass of lemonade on the table beside her, she looked up from her book and nearly had heart failure.
Jake stood on her side of the hedge, hands on his hips, watching his daughter and her best friend play in the pool.
In that instant, Rebecca knew why she'd sidestepped every chance she'd had to tell Jake about Katie. She was terrified. Soul deep terrified. Not of Jake, but of what he would do when he found out Katie was his.
Rebecca knew all too well how much it hurt to be rejected by the people she'd wanted most to love her. Both her parents had rejected her, and so had Jake. She had no reason to expect him to welcome her child into his life, and Rebecca couldn't stand the thought of Jake rejecting Katie the way she'd been rejected. She'd rather die than have her innocent little girl subjected to that kind of pain.
Jake spotted her glued to the lounge chair. He approached slowly, as if torn between returning home without speaking and attempting civility. He nodded politely. “Afternoon, Rebecca."
She nodded in return, unable to find her voice. He looked rough and rumpled, and sexier than sin in his faded denim cut-offs and Nikes. Her heart squeezed painfully.
Be careful what you wish for, she thought. She'd wished for another chance with Jake, and now...
"I heard the noise. Thought maybe I should check it out."
"I see,” she finally managed.
Jake looked down at her and suppressed a weary sigh. So she was still pissed at him. He didn't blame her. But he couldn't take his eyes off of her, either. She was stunning in white. Her strapless one-piece suit showed off her slender arms and endless legs to perfection. Not to mention her tan. With her hair swept up in some kind of bun, her shoulders practically begged him to lean over and take a taste. He shifted uncomfortably as his mind moved on to the possibilities of this new sun-goddess image of Rebecca appearing in future fantasies.
"I got a job,” he heard himself say, then felt stupid. Like he was trying to impress her. Which he wasn't.
Rebecca blinked and stared. “What did you say?"
Jake wished he'd had the good sense to stay on his side of the hedge. But no, he'd heard the girls laughing and just had to come and see who might belong to that ceramic hand print bowl. Idiot. “I got a job. I'll be working at Feeney's again, starting Tuesday.
Rebecca slowly set her book aside and gave him her full attention. As she straightened, the two wide crisscrossing bands of snug white material cupping her breasts snared his attention. He shoved his hands deep into his front pockets, ripping one of them in the process.
"Feeney's?” Rebecca echoed in obvious amazement. “You're kidding. What shift?"
"Morning. Six to three, six days a week, with Mondays off."
He ground his back teeth in a fruitless effort to contain his body's response to her nearness, then looked away, at the girls still splashing in the pool. Something seemed strangely familiar about the red-headed one. Was she Rebecca's? He looked back at Rebecca, and knew he couldn't ask. Not yet.
Coward.
"Ought to make my parole officer happy, anyway. The extra money won't hurt, either, considering what needs to be done on the house."
"Before you sell it, you mean,” she said slowly, carefully.
So that was it. She was wondering if he'd changed his mind about staying in Warner. His erection deflated at the thought. “The job's temporary, Rebecca,” he said tiredly. “Until his regular mechanic gets back. He was called out of town on family business and Feeney promised to hold his job, but he's getting swamped, so he asked me to fill in for a while.” He looked over at the pool again, then crossed his arms over his chest.
In the silence that followed, Jake realized Rebecca had gone very still. She, too, was looking at the girls. Jake took a deep breath, and knew he couldn't put off knowing any longer. “So, who are the kids? They look like they're having a blast."
Rebecca closed her eyes, seemed to take her own deep breath, then said in a strangely subdued voice, “Jenna lives two doors down the street. The blonde.” She paused, then rose to stand beside him, her expression determined. “The redhead is my daughter ... Katie. She's been in Erie with Aunt Martha."
Jake felt his heart stop at the word “daughter.” With a calm he was far from feeling, he watched Katie jump into the pool holding hands with Jenna. Finally, he looked back at Rebecca. So it was true. She was a mother. He let his gaze travel the length of her from head to toe, then back again, before he spoke. He never would have guessed. “I wondered when you would tell me."
"You knew?"
Katie and Jenna chose that moment to scramble out of the pool and join them. “Hi, I'm Katie. This is my best friend, Jenna."
Jake faced the girls with a comfortable smile. “Hello, Katie, Jenna. I'm Jake. I...” He trailed off, blinking in stark disbelief at the small, heart-shaped birthmark just above Katie's right ankle. Suddenly his confidence evaporated, and he felt weak all over.
>
"Rebecca? What's that on Katie's ankle?"
Rebecca frowned, used to surprised looks when it came to Katie's birthmark. From a distance it looked like a tattoo. Rebecca couldn't count the number of people who had commented on it, most of them taking it upon themselves to let her know they thought Katie much too young for tattoos. But the intensity of Jake's reaction alarmed her.
"Jake, are you all right? You look pale."
"It's my birthmark,” Katie said. “Mom says I've been kissed by an angel."
"I see,” Jake finally said, seeming dazed. “Well, I'm Jake, and I ... live over there,” he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder. “On the other side of the hedge."
"I know. Mom's been waiting forever for you to get here."
He looked at Rebecca, and suddenly she knew something was wrong. Very wrong. His eyes had filled with pain, as if he'd suffered a serious physical blow.
"Were you really in prison?” Jenna asked.
Jake seemed jolted by the question. He blinked and turned back to Jenna, drew a deep breath and said with shaky dignity, “Yes, I was. For eight years."
"Wow. That's a long time,” Katie said, her eyes wide with fascination. “Longer than my whole life. What was it like?"
"Katie...” Rebecca began.
"I saw a prison once, when we went to Buffalo to see my grandma,” Jenna offered. “We passed it on the road. There was a big fence around it, with lots of round barbed wire at the top, and a bunch of people standing around inside wearing orange. Were you one of them?"
"Ah, no. I was in Wyoming. And it's called razor wire."
"Oh, that's right. I forgot,” Jenna said blithely. Obviously the girls had been talking. Either that, or Jenna had overheard someone—her parents, most likely—discussing Jake's return. Her curiosity about him clearly satisfied, Jenna turned to Katie. “C'mon, Katie, let's dive for rings."
The two girls returned to the pool, secure in their innocence. Jake lifted his gaze to the sky, took one deep breath, then another, his big hands flexing on his hips.
"So...” he said unexpectedly, in a tight voice Rebecca barely recognized, “...you made up with good old Mitch after all."
"Who?” Rebecca frowned, confused.
"Mitchell. Mitchell Kane."
"Mitchell?” What was he talking about?
"Yes, Mitchell,” Jake said slowly, evenly, his eyes black as coal, and now, surprisingly angry. Angry? About Mitchell? But she hadn't seen, hadn't even thought of him in years. “The rich law student fiancé who was pushing you to take your relationship to the next level. Obviously, he succeeded."
"What?” Rebecca realized what he was saying and stared at him in disbelief. Her anger rose so fast it shocked even her. “Why you sorry son of a—"
"Ah, ah, ah.” Jake held up a finger. “We have an audience, remember?"
Rebecca clamped her mouth shut, fuming. Jake's eyes bored into hers for so long she was sure he could see every last ounce of resentment, anger and bitterness she'd felt toward him over the past eight years. She didn't care. If Jake could believe she'd sleep with Mitchell Kane after sleeping with him, he deserved her anger.
Abruptly Jake broke eye contact. Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled slowly, heavily.
"I'm sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have done that."
Rebecca simply stood there, vibrating with suppressed fury. “You think she's Mitchell's?"
"Let's just say I had hopes."
Her disbelief and anger rolled into contempt. “You're disgusting."
"Believe me, Becca. You can't call me anything I haven't called myself since I realized it was a possibility. She is mine, isn't she?"
Rebecca blinked, realizing he'd actually been searching for an out by bringing up Mitchell. Her contempt rose to new heights. She lifted her chin, no longer the least bit afraid to tell him the truth. “Yes, Jake, she's yours.” There. Deal with that, you sorry bastard.
He looked over at the pool. “The girls are coming back. I need to get out of here."
"That's right, Jake. Run again."
"I'm not running, Becca. Damn it, I need some time!"
Rebecca gritted her teeth. “We need to talk about this."
"Not now,” he insisted, his voice low and barely contained. “Not here."
"When, then?"
"I don't know."
Too much time, and he might bolt again. How well she knew him. “Tuesday night, then. You can come over for dinner and a swim."
He looked back at her, no doubt wondering if she was sane. Half-wondering the same, she chose to ignore his look. “I can't do it any sooner. We have plans tonight, tomorrow we're working at the church festival, and Monday night I'm speaking at a Kiwanis meeting. Unless, of course, you'd like to join us."
"At a Kiwanis meeting? Get real, Rebecca."
"At the church festival. It lasts all day, but I'm sure I can get away for—"
"Mom, we're going to go up and get a snack, okay?"
"All right, honey. You know where everything is."
"I didn't go to those church things before,” Jake practically growled beside her. “I'm sure as hell not going to start going now."
Rebecca swung around to meet his gaze. “But you need to spend some time with her, Jake."
"Are you nuts?” he asked in outright disbelief. “I'm supposed to step in and do the dad thing, eight years later, and in front of the whole damned town? Show them what a model citizen I've become? Show them how rehabilitated I am? I don't think so.” He looked away, angrily swiping a hand down his face. “Jesus, Rebecca, even I didn't deserve this."
Neither of them said anything for a long moment.
"I'm sorry,” Rebecca finally offered, quietly. “I should have told you sooner."
"When's her birthday,” Jake asked, just as quietly, apparently backing off on his own anger. “I don't doubt she's mine. I just want to know."
"The thirty-first of July."
It fit. Perfectly. Jake closed his eyes against the disgrace of what he'd done. He'd never meant to hurt her. He could imagine all too well what she'd suffered these past eight years, coming back to Warner as an unwed mother after having spent every day of her childhood living down her own mother's reputation for promiscuity.
"All right,” he heard himself say wearily, suddenly feeling bone deep exhausted. He, Jacob Donovan, had an eight-year-old daughter. One who bore the Dillenger family birthmark. A Dillenger. He needed a drink. Make that a whole frigging bottle. “I'll come to dinner on Tuesday.” Meeting Rebecca's eyes, he deliberately made his own hard, hoping it would help him get his point across. He wasn't ready to be a father. Not now. Not ever. “But that's all."
Chapter Six
Jake was sure he'd lost his mind. Somewhere in the heart of the night, with only his demons to keep him company, he'd finally wrapped his mind around the fact that he was a father.
He had a daughter. A bright, sunny, red-headed little girl named Katie.
Now, barely twelve hours later, all Jake could think about was seeing her again. He'd be damned if he'd wait until Tuesday evening, when Rebecca had time to fit him into her social schedule.
A daughter.
Jake wanted to see her again today. Right now.
Fifteen minutes later, he walked the fringes of the church festival Rebecca had mentioned, hoping to catch a glimpse of his own flesh and blood. Rebecca had said she and Katie would be working at the festival together. Whether that meant at a game booth, a ticket or concession stand, the hay ride, or any of the dozens of children's activities he'd already passed once, Jake had no idea. He hadn't spotted either of them yet ... but knew he'd been spotted and sized up time and time again.
He gritted his teeth against the burning, bitter feeling of being watched as closely and warily as some sort of predator who shouldn't be out by day, and pretended to ignore the alarmed looks, the sharp gasps of surprise and fear, the long, open stares and not-so-hushed whispers. If it hadn't hurt so much, he would have laug
hed at the obvious attempts to steer clear of him, as if at any moment he might reach for the nearest woman, throw her to the ground and try to have sex with her on the spot.
Then whip out a knife and stab her to death if she resisted.
In that moment, feeling like a pariah surrounded by a church yard full of normal families, Jake felt a consuming hatred wash over him in a way he never had before. But his hatred wasn't directed at any of the people around him, or the ambitious young prosecutor who had put him away. It was at himself, for letting her. At the time, he hadn't cared what happened to him, hadn't felt he had anything to fight for.
Now he knew differently.
And it hurt. More than he would have dreamed possible. All he could think about now was how much different his life might have been if he hadn't run away from Rebecca that last time.
A loud burst of laughter to his left seared his brain, and Jake spotted Rebecca. She stood at the head of the line in front of the dunking booth, warming up her throwing arm. In cuffed denim shorts and a blindingly white T-shirt with bright red lettering on the back, her hair swept up into one of those carelessly put together styles that looked sexy without trying to, she looked as young, carefree and as vibrant as the fourth of July.
Certainly not like she'd lost any sleep over what she'd done to him. What she'd kept from him for over eight years.
Carefully she took aim, preparing to throw a ball at a ruby red clown nose painted on a wall fifty feet away. In a deep, amused voice clearly meant to heckle, the sitting duck on a mechanized diving board suspended over a big, chest-high barrel of water spoke up, and stopped Rebecca short. She turned to the heckler slowly, arched a delicate eyebrow and said something that caused a wide wave of laughter to ripple through the group. She then turned back to the clown face, threw the ball, and missed.
The man called out to her again, this time in amusement. Jake scowled at her heckler, and was surprised to recognize Sheriff Sutter. The same sheriff who'd paid him a visit after Jake's trip to the town library. A man well versed in the art of intimidation.
Jake's Return Page 6