Jake's child Read Online Free PDF

wasn't sure. Maybe the way he'd waited for her to say something. Maybe the fact that he'd never really threatened her. Or maybe it was the way he treated his son. No, that was the problem. She rubbed the edges of the coin. The boy wasn't his son. That was why she'd scurried to the phone. She'd thought the boy was kidnapped. And the tires. That was what had frightened her out of her wits. The premeditation and violence.
    When she'd seen the man's face, though, the situation had subtly changed. The rugged nakedness of his face had been angry but controlled. He'd been tense, intimidating but not violent.
    Sarah motioned him down the stairs first. "Okay, we'll talk in the kitchen, but this whole situation doesn't make sense. Your actions don't add up. You arrive on my doorstep in the middle of the night, scare me to death, and—and you're rude!" She was talking too fast as adrenaline flooded her blood. "I'll listen, but ante up quick."
    She relished the pop-pop-popping of rage in her. Oh, she was in a fine rage. She'd been such a mope, letting this thick-necked, thick-headed stranger push her around, take over, scare her witless. She'd decided a long time ago no one would ever treat her like that again, and still she'd almost fallen into the trap.
    It was the night, the hour. That was all. Anybody would be muddled, and the sweet melancholy of the dream hadn't helped. "Sit." She yanked out a chair but didn't push him

    into it. Her rage wasn't that foolhardy. His face was void of all expression. Was he laughing at her? She scowled. He'd better not. She'd brain him with a skillet if he laughed. "Talk."
    Jake knew he was going to have to make it good. A quick, sideways glance showed him that pulse beating frantically at the side of her neck. Near panic, she'd doubt everything he said. What had sent her running to the phone? Had Nicholas let something slip?
    Her lips were slightly pursed. Even tightened with anger, her bottom lip glowed, a soft pink fullness. He couldn't help noticing that softness. Didn't want to. He spread his hands flat on the table. "Ante up, huh? From where I sit, you hold all the cards." She blinked. Good. He'd surprised her.
    "/ do?" She narrowed her eyes in what he figured was speculation. Then her eyes strayed to his chest. Stayed there for a long moment.
    He shrugged. "Sure you do." His chest warmed where her eyes lingered. "Look, can I put on my shirt before we finish this conversation?" Rising, he leaned over the table. "I think we'd both be more comfortable." He was feeling hostile again. It was those damned soft eyes looking at him, touching him with their nearsighted blue velvet.
    "Oh. Of course. Yes." Her face was now as pink as her bottom lip.
    He took his time getting a shirt from the bag he'd brought in earlier, thinking hard. What would she buy? Better to stick with the truth, as far as possible. Truth always sounded more credible. What were the weak spots in his story? The time, of course. The place itself. Why would he be in the Okeechobee area? Possibly visiting the Seminole reservation?
    He rubbed his chin. Scraping off that damned beard had felt good. He should have done that as soon as he had got back in the country. He buttoned the last button as he reentered the kitchen.

    She hadn't moved, but her expression had changed. She must have thought of some more questions. Hell. This might be a long, drawn out situation, and he couldn't lay any booby traps for himself farther up the trail. He folded himself into a chair.
    Her husky voice confronted him. "Okay. I want to know about the tires."
    Sheesh. Jake decided she was either very shrewd or naive. He had to admire her courage, though, in going right for the kill. "They're flat. I told you." He shielded his expression.
    She sat up straighter. "You're lying."
    "Now why on earth would I lie about something like that?" He smiled.
    She rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I don't know. Nicholas said you cut the tires on your truck."
    "Is that what this is