Marrying Jake

by Beverly Bird

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Katie....

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Books by Beverly Bird

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  Copyright

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Katie....

  “You’re beautiful when you’re wearing those plain dresses. And when your hair is pulled back....” If he could give her nothing else, Jake resolved, he would give her this.

  Katya began to tremble. “Pride is a sin.”

  “No,” he said fiercely. “No... Pride is nothing more than believing in yourself.”

  “You don’t have to say these things.”

  “I’m saying it because I’m scared to death to show you.”

  “You’re never scared, Jacob,” she said, as she had once before.

  But this time, his answer, though silent, was different. I’m always scared. And he had never fully admitted it, even to himself, until he met her and understood the true meaning of fear.

  Dear Reader,

  It’s summer. The days are long...hot...just right for romance. And we’ve got six great romances right here, just waiting for you to settle back and enjoy them. Linda Turner has long been one of your favorite authors. Now, in I’m Having Your Baby?! she begins a great new miniseries, THE LONE STAR SOCIAL CLUB. Seems you may rent an apartment in this building single, but you’ll be part of a couple before too long. It certainly works that way for Annie and Joe, anyway!

  Actually, this is a really great month for miniseries. Ruth Wind continues THE LAST ROUNDUP with Her Ideal Man, all about a ranching single dad who’s not looking for love but somehow ends up with a pregnant bride. In the next installment of THE WEDDING RING, Marrying Jake, Beverly Bird matches a tough cop with a gentle rural woman—and four irresistible kids.

  Then there’s multi-award-winning Kathleen Creighton’s newest, Never Trust a Lady. Who would have thought smalltown mom Jane Carlysle would end up involved in high-level intrigue—and in love with one very sexy Interpol agent? Maura Seger’s back with Heaven in His Arms, about how one of life’s unluckiest moments—a car crash—somehow got turned into one of life’s best, and all because of the gorgeous guy driving the other car. Finally, welcome debut author Raina Lynn. In A Marriage To Fight For, she creates a wonderful second-chance story that will leave you hungry for more of this fine new writer’s work.

  Enjoy them all, and come back next month for more terrific romance—right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

  Leslie J. Wainger

  Senior Editor and Editorial Coordinator

  Please address questions and book requests to:

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  MARRYING JAKE

  BEVERLY BIRD

  Books by Beverly Bird

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  Emeralds in the Dark #3

  The Fires of Winter #23

  Ride the Wind #139

  A Solitary Man #172

  *A Man Without Love #630

  *A Man Without a Haven #641

  *A Man Without a Wife #652

  Undercover Cowboy #711

  The Marrying Kind #732

  Compromising Positions #777

  †Loving Mariah #790

  †Marrying Jake #802

  Silhouette Desire

  The Best Reasons #190

  Fool’s Gold #209

  All the Marbles #227

  To Love a Stranger #411

  *Wounded Warriors

  †The Wedding Ring

  BEVERLY BIRD

  has lived in several places in the United States, but she is currently back where her roots began on an island in New Jersey. Her time is devoted to her family and her writing. She is the author of numerous romance novels, both contemporary and historical. Beverly loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 350, Brigantine, NJ 08203.

  Prologue

  It was a good country-and-western bar, and it had taken Jake Wallace several days to find it in the urban sprawl of Washington, D.C. He was offended at first that an area teeming with so many ethnic backgrounds seemed to have neglected the tastes of a good ol’ boy from Texas, but once he was pointed in the direction of Clyde and Bob’s Bull’s-Eye Bar, he generously forgave the nation’s capital.

  The band was a little too twangy, but he could live with that in light of the genuine sawdust on the floor and the great little getups on the waitresses. They wore bright red bandannas in lieu of skirts, tied in convoluted knots at one hip. And cowboy boots, down there at the bottom of miles of legs. That was a nice touch, he thought approvingly. The smoke was thick enough that he could probably scoop a handful of it. There were shouts and laughter, but there hadn’t been a fight all night—although if that woman in the painted-on purple jeans kept up with her gyrations on the mechanical bull, Jake thought there’d probably be one soon.

  Not his problem, he decided, leaning one elbow back against the bar. He’d left his badge at home.

  “There you are.”

  The voice came from behind him, and Jake’s good mood vanished like a burst bubble. It was Albert Paisner, FBI wanna-be, his roommate for the week over at the Academy in Quantico.

  Every once in a blue moon, Jake took a continuing education course with the federal government. Not that he’d ever leave the employ of the Dallas Police Department. The Bureau tried to enlist him every time he enrolled, and they had consistently failed to do so. Jake just loved information. He got a kick out of collecting it. You never knew when some odd scrap of knowledge might come in handy.

  Paisner, on the other hand, wanted to grow up to be an agent so badly he fairly drooled with it. He was fortyish, a tad overweight, bald, and had the suit-and-tie routine down pat. He’d said—proudly—that he worked with the New York Transit Police. The FBI had not yet offered him a job, though Jake suspected Paisner would be perfectly willing to sweep the floors of their hallowed halls just to get an in.

  Jake had spent as little time as possible in their shared room this week. Paisner grated on his nerves.

  “Hey, Albie,” he said mildly, turning to face the man. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  Paisner looked around the crowded bar with an expression that said he smelled something foul. “Figured I’d find you somewhere like this.”

  “Doesn’t seem like your kind of joint,” Jake admitted. “You know what it is, Albie? It’s that tie. You need to lose it.” He reached for it. Paisner jumped back. out of reach.

  “I’m not staying,” he said quickly.

  “Too bad. They’ve got great waitresses.”

  “I’m married.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Paisner’s face started mottling. He reached into his suit jacket pocket and came up with several pink slips of paper. “Leonard Houghton sent me.”

  Houghton had recommended Clyde and Bob’s. He was a good guy. He was also the director of the continuing education department.

  Jake took the phone messages. “Earn any brownie points?”

  “Go to hell,” Albert Paisner answered, his fac
e growing redder still.

  “Been there. Done that.” Jake sighed. “You need to lighten up, Albie. Life’s too short. And it’s ugly enough without looking for things to make yourself frown.”

  “I take my responsibilities and commitments seriously.”

  “Well, good for you.” Jake started fanning through the messages, then he stiffened. “When did these come in?”

  Paisner scowled even more. “All week. Two last night. I’ve got to go. I don’t know how you breathe in this place.”

  “Deeply, through your mouth, if you’re an ex-smoker and still feel the yearning now and again,” Jake answered absently. He stuck the messages in the pocket of his sport coat. No coat and tie for him. He wore a T-shirt beneath the jacket, and jeans. No one at the Academy had complained. Yet.

  Now they wouldn’t get the chance.

  “Come on, I’ll walk out with you.”

  “My lucky night,” Paisner muttered.

  Jake looked at the other man quickly. Then he flashed a real grin. “There you go, Albie. That’s it. A wisecrack every now and then is good for the soul.” But his heart wasn’t in rattling the man anymore.

  Seven messages had come in from his brother, Adam. That wasn’t good. That couldn’t be good at all.

  Adam had spent the better part of the past month tracking down his lost son. His ex-wife had disappeared into thin air with the boy four years ago. Earlier in the month, Adam had finally located him, in an Amish settlement in the Pennsylvania heartland. He’d brought Bo home to Dallas two weeks ago, and it hadn’t gone well. The boy had more or less been raised Amish. He didn’t remember Adam, at least not cohesively. And he had been horrified and frightened by the dizzying rush of twentieth-century humanity and all its toys and trinkets. There’d been a couple of breakthroughs, but acclimating the kid to his old life was going to take some time.

  Adam had reluctantly planned to take his son back to visit the settlement to ease the transition. That had been the same day Jake had flown east for the FBI classes, a little over a week ago now, and they hadn’t spoken since. But something had gone wrong. Something had to be wrong for his brother to call him seven times.

  A hollow sensation rolled over in Jake’s belly. Had Bo disappeared again? He’d tried to run away from all of this upheaval once. Had he succeeded in staying lost for more than a few hours this time? Maybe as soon as his seven-year-old feet had hit Pennsylvania soil again, he’d bolted.

  Jake went outside, where the light was better, and reread the seven messages in the flickering neon above his head. He swore colorfully enough to stop Paisner, who was several steps ahead of him.

  “You have a cab waiting for you, by any chance?” Jake asked.

  “Right over there. Do you need to go back with me?”

  “I need you to drop me off at Washington National.”

  “The airport? But we still have classes—”

  “There’ll be classes long after I’m dead and gone,” Jake interrupted. It wasn’t as though he needed the completion certificate for any real reason. He’d just end up shoving it in a drawer with the others.

  “Jake!” a female voice called out from behind him.

  He turned to find one of the waitresses standing in the doorway. She was beautiful, with long dark hair in a soft swirl. Her skin was ivory and she had doe eyes and incredible legs. Jake felt a warm sweep of pleasure just looking at her.

  It was followed immediately by a twitch of regret. “Sorry, Ilena. I’ve got to run.”

  “You forgot your hat.” She held the Stetson out to him.

  “God bless you,” Jake said fervently. He would have hated to have lost it. He crossed back to the door to retrieve it.

  “Are you coming back?” she asked.

  Ah, hell, Jake thought, the regret growing. “Probably.” It wouldn’t be until the FBI made courses available again, and by then she would have a boyfriend, but he would almost certainly return to this place now that he had found it.

  “Good.” Her voice fairly hummed with anticipation. “I get off at midnight.”

  “Catch you later,” he said, perpetuating the small white lie. Then he jogged for the waiting taxi.

  “What about your clothes?” Paisner asked once they were inside. “You’ve left all your stuff back in our room.”

  Jake thought about it. There wasn’t much—a few pairs of jeans, some shirts—just one small duffel bag’s worth. “Send it to General Delivery, Lancaster, PA. I’ll find it.”

  “Hey, I’m not your lackey!”

  Jake muttered to himself and shifted his weight to dig in his jeans pocket for his wallet. He’d thought he had roughly fifty dollars in cash. He had less than thirty. “Here,” he said, handing it to the other man.

  Paisner reared back. “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s a family emergency, Albie. I appreciate your help, that’s all. This ought to cover the shipping, and if there’s anything left, you can buy some souvenir for the missus. Hey, those cute globes with the snow inside are only a couple of bucks, right?”

  Paisner’s face tightened again.

  “Listen, I really do need some help here,”

  “An emergency?” Paisner repeated as the cab sped along neon-lit city streets.

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “That guy’s been calling all week. Every night. You never came back to our room.”

  “You’re not my type.”

  A smile almost got away from the man. Paisner finally took the money.

  “You could talk a sky diver into giving up his parachute,” he complained, but without bite. “You know, I’ve been leaving those messages on your bed all week. I thought you saw them when you came back to shower.” By the time he finished, his voice had gone disapproving again. “Then Houghton finally said to just take them to you.”

  Jake was thinking that that was why the Bureau did not want Albert Paisner. It was why he had never gotten past entry-level courses. If he wasn’t given directions, he just sort of hovered and waited for them. Then again, Jake reflected, that tended to be the kind of guy the FBI liked most. Why they had been trying to recruit him for so many years was still a mystery. He didn’t take orders well.

  “How come you don’t call this Adam guy?” Paisner pressed.

  That would take too much time and effort to explain, and they had nearly reached the airport.

  “I just can’t,” he said simply.

  The settlement didn’t have telephones. The Amish people were convinced the contraptions disrupted the warm, simple lives they led. Jake had worked around it before, when he’d helped Adam unravel the mystery of how his son had ended up in an Amish village called Divinity. He’d do it again.

  “Thanks,” Jake said. “I really appreciate this.”

  Paisner sniffed, somewhat mollified. “Of course.”

  Jake went into the airport, thinking he’d bet his last buck that Paisner would buy his wife one of those little snow-filled globes. Except, of course, he had already given Paisner his last buck.

  Ah, well, he thought. Easy come, easy go.

  Chapter 1

  Jake just barely caught a 10:40 p.m. flight direct from Washington to Philadelphia. He was encouraged that this sudden change of plans seemed to be going off without a hitch—until he actually got on the plane.

  He’d used his credit card to purchase the only available seat on a DC-9. It was, of course, the seat no one else wanted—with good cause. It was the last one in the back, tucked against the engine wall, with no window. It involved a total of one, maybe two, square feet.

  He was six foot three plus some change. The last time he’d been on a scale—admittedly before he’d spent a week eating government food—he’d weighed two hundred and twenty pounds. Uncle Sam had been real big on watching his cholesterol for him. He was grateful that he had probably dropped a few pounds since last Monday. Otherwise, he wasn’t convinced he could have fitted into the tiny space.

  As it was, when the woman in fron
t of him put her seat back, it hit him squarely in the chest. Jake pushed his own back as far as it would go. The seat wasn’t just uncomfortable. It was downright painful. Damn it, bro, this had better be important.

  All his instincts said it was. Adam knew him better than anyone alive. Their sister had disappeared ten years ago, their parents had each died not long after that, and the two of them were all they had now. Adam had never left seven demanding messages before in their lives.

  Bo again, Jake thought. It had to be Bo. That was the only thing that made sense.

  He looked up to see a flight attendant inching down the aisle with a beverage cart. When she glanced over at him, a question in her eyes, he grinned. “Got a beer in there somewhere? Any ol’ brand will do.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry.”

  Jake was taken aback. “You want my ID? I swear, I turned thirty-seven last month. I’m of age and I can prove it.”

  She laughed. “And I’d give you one if I could. But we don’t carry alcoholic beverages on board.”

  He looked around, mystified. “You’re kidding.”

  “We’re no-frills.”

  He definitely remembered the girl at the ticket counter mentioning something about that. Still...no beer?

  “Something else?” she asked. “Coffee is a dollar, a soft drink is a dollar fifty.”

  He started to nod, then he remembered that he’d given Paisner all of his cash. He settled back again, swearing a little.

  “My treat,” the attendant offered. She handed him a cola with a little plastic cup full of ice.

  “Thanks,” he answered. “You’re a doll.”

  She beamed and moved up to the next row. Even then, her gaze lingered. Jake’s charm, his sometimes-easy, sometimes-smoldering grin, were things he had worked at perfecting over the years. He’d been forced at an early age to learn the knack of grinning his way out of almost anything.