“It’s standard procedure for me to interview people before I hire them, Grace,” Jack said.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “By asking them who they’ve slept with? I’m sorry, but that’s getting a bit personal for me.” Her gaze deliberately swept up and down his body. “Maybe you should remember the old saying about those without sin throwing the first stone, because I doubt you’ve been living like a monk.”

Her words angered him, but the hot blaze in her green eyes excited him like nothing he could remember. He wanted to jerk her into his arms, smother her lips with his. It was crazy! She was a stranger, and a pregnant one at that….

Yet the feeling was there. And it felt glorious to a man who’d been emotionally dead for a long, long time.

Dear Reader,

Looking for sensational summer reads? All year we’ve been celebrating Silhouette’s 20th Anniversary with special titles, and this month’s selections are just the warm, romantic tales you’ve been seeking!

Bestselling author Stella Bagwell continues the newest Romance promotion, AN OLDER MAN. Falling for Grace hadn’t been his intention, particularly when his younger, pregnant neighbor was carrying his nephew’s baby! Judy Christenberry’s THE CIRCLE K SISTERS miniseries comes back to Romance this month, when sister Melissa enlists the temporary services of The Borrowed Groom. Moyra Tarling’s Denim & Diamond pairs a rough-hewn single dad with the expectant woman he’d once desired beyond reason…but let get away.

Valerie Parv unveils her romantic royalty series THE CARRAMER CROWN. When a woman literally washes ashore at the feet of the prince, she becomes companion to The Monarch’s Son…but will she ever become the monarch’s wife? Julianna Morris’s BRIDAL FEVER! persists when Jodie’s Mail-Order Man discovers her heart’s desire: the brother of her mail-order groom! And Martha Shields’s Lassoed! is the perfect Opposites Attract story this summer. The sparks between a rough-and-tumble rodeo champ and the refined beauty sent to photograph him jump off every page!

In future months, look for STORKVILLE, USA, our newest continuity series. And don’t miss the charming miniseries THE CHANDLERS REQUEST…from New York Times bestselling author Kasey Michaels.

Happy reading!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

Falling for Grace
Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my musician buddies,

The Lutie Outlaws.

Books by Stella Bagwell

Silhouette Romance

Golden Glory #469

Moonlight Bandit #485

A Mist on the Mountain #510

Madeline’s Song #543

The Outsider #560

The New Kid in Town #587

Cactus Rose #621

Hillbilly Heart #634

Teach Me #657

The White Night #674

No Horsing Around #699

That Southern Touch #723

Gentle as a Lamb #748

A Practical Man #789

Precious Pretender #812

Done to Perfection #836

Rodeo Rider #878

*Their First Thanksgiving #903

*The Best Christmas Ever #909

*New Year’s Baby #915

Hero in Disguise #954

Corporate Cowgirl #991

Daniel’s Daddy #1020

A Cowboy for Christmas #1052

Daddy Lessons #1085

Wanted: Wife #1140

†The Sheriff’s Son #1218

†The Rancher’s Bride #1224

†The Tycoon’s Tots #1228

†The Rancher’s Blessed Event #1296

†The Ranger and the Widow Woman #1314

†The Cowboy and the Debutante #1334

†Millionaire on Her Doorstep #1368

The Bridal Bargain #1414

Falling for Grace #1456

Silhouette Special Edition

Found: One Runaway Bride #1049

†Penny Parker’s Pregnant! #1258

Silhouette Books

A Bouquet of Babies

†“Baby on Her Doorstep”

STELLA BAGWELL

sold her first book to Silhouette in November 1985. Now, nearly forty novels later, she is still thrilled to see her books in print and can’t imagine having any other job than that of writing about two people falling in love.

She lives in a small town in southeastern Oklahoma with her husband of nearly thirty years. She has one son.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

He was back! Her prayers had been answered!

Heedless of the late hour, Grace Holliday whirled away from the living room window and hurriedly searched the floor for her sandals.

Since they were nowhere in sight, she quickly decided she didn’t need shoes and flew out the door to scurry across the dark lawn toward the bungalow next door. Part of the structure was hidden by pines and magnolia trees, but she hadn’t dreamed the light shining in the kitchen. She could see it plainly now.

The yellow shafts filtering through the pine boughs were like a beacon to her weary heart and in spite of her growing girth, she felt as light as air as she skimmed up the wooden steps and across the planked porch.

The solid wooden door was open to the ocean breeze, and through the screen she could see the small living room was dark. No sound stirred from within the house, making her wonder if he’d fallen asleep.

Rapping her knuckles on the jamb, she called out, “Trent! Trent, it’s me, Grace. Are you in there?”

Seconds dragged into a minute as she stood in the muggy darkness, anxiously awaiting his answer.

To her left, parked beneath the small carport next to the porch was a late-model sedan of an indistinguishable dark color. It wasn’t the vehicle Trent drove while he’d stayed here in the bungalow, but he could have easily changed cars since she’d last seen him.

“Trent! Answer the door!”

Another long minute passed without any sort of response and she decided to enter the house and make herself known to him. Surely he hadn’t heard her knock. He wouldn’t just ignore her. After all, he’d come back to Biloxi. That had to mean something.

Inside the shadow-filled living room, she called again, “Trent! Where are you?”

Moving toward the light in the kitchen, she entered a short hallway. Suddenly the floor creaked behind her, and then a male voice lifted the hair on the back of her neck.

“Who the hell are you?”

Her heart hammering, she whirled around, then unconsciously inched backward toward the light and away from the dark bulky image of a man looming in front of her.

“I—I’m Grace Holliday. Who—are you?”

“Obviously not who you were looking for.”

His deep voice was full of sarcasm and just a hint of warning. Unwittingly she moved several more steps behind her, until she was completely illuminated by the dim overhead light in the kitchen.

“I thought—I was looking for Trent,” she said haltingly.

“I know. I heard.”

Her brows lifted with skepticism. If he’d heard, why hadn’t he answered her knock? she wondered. Slightly irked, she asked, “Is Trent here?”

The man suddenly moved into the light and it was all Grace could do to keep her hand from flying to her mouth as he stopped within inches of her.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I…thought—he—”

Her disconnected words halted completely as her gaze tried to access everything about him at once. Aside from being tall, he was lean and fierce-looking with hooded gray eyes, a square set jaw and chiseled lips, which at the moment were pressed together in a grim line. Hair the color of a lion’s mane curled ever so slightly against his collar and fell in a thick wave straight back from a broad forehead. Grace realized she was looking at one irritated but very sexy man.

“You thought he…what, Miss Holliday?”

Nervously she licked her lips, then pulled her gaze away from him to glance around the room. Funny how nothing in the cozy little kitchen had changed since Trent had come and gone. She supposed the only thing his presence had changed was her.

“Nothing. I…saw the light from next door and thought it was him. Sorry about the mistake.”

The young woman standing in front of him had a messy blob of coal-black curls piled atop her head. She was wearing white shorts and a loose red T-shirt. Her feet were bare and the legs connected to them were long and firm and shapely. But her legs were not what riveted his attention. It was the rounded protrusion evident beneath the swell of her breasts that quickly caught his eye. The woman was pregnant! Very pregnant!

The discovery distracted him, making him momentarily lose his train of thought. Which was a cardinal sin for a man in his field of work.

“My name is Jack Barrett,” he finally said.

She extended her hand to him and Jack felt inclined to take it rather than rebuff this pretty intruder. Which wasn’t like him, either. Jack didn’t usually give a damn whom he snubbed. Beautiful women included.

“Are you—did you buy this place, or something?” she asked in a faintly bewildered tone.

As he clasped her soft hand in his, he decided she couldn’t be more than twenty-two or three. Jack quickly racked his brain, trying to remember if Trent had ever mentioned a girl named Grace, but that was like fishing in a lake for a minnow. In the span of a work week he heard more names than most people heard in a year. And it wasn’t as though he associated with his nephew on a regular basis. Since his sister’s boy had grown up, Jack rarely saw the young man.

“Or something,” he said as he suddenly decided to move cautiously with Grace Holliday. If she’d been involved with Trent, there was no telling what she might want. But with the Barrett family, it usually boiled down to one thing. Money.

“Tell me, Miss Holliday, do you usually enter other people’s houses at night like this?”

A blush stole over her cheeks and Jack noticed that even though her face was bare of makeup, it was still rich with color. Delicate black brows and thick lashes, pale green eyes and skin that was tanned to a deep rose-brown. The image of a Tahitian goddess, he decided. Sensual, earthy, and naturally beautiful. Just the kind that ruined a man’s common sense.

“No,” she answered. “But the door was open and I thought—”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a sneering sort of smile. “And you thought Trent was here.”

She nodded and he could see disappointment all over her face. What did it mean? he wondered.

“Do you live here in Biloxi?” he asked.

She nodded again. “In the house next door. That’s how I met Trent. He was staying here earlier this year.”

Jack racked his brain again. Trent had finished college at midterm break back in December. He tried to remember if he’d told Trent he could use the beachside bungalow after that time. Not that it would have mattered if his nephew had used the house without his consent. Jack had never seen the place until today.

Two years ago he’d bought the piece of real estate on a whim. An employee with the firm had needed quick cash and Jack had written him a check without much thought to what he’d do with a beach house in Mississippi.

Two years was a hell of a long time to finally get curious about a place.

The words his secretary had spoken to him yesterday suddenly popped into Jack’s mind, putting an even deeper twist on his lips. He’d started to tell Irene that nothing could rouse his curiosity anymore. He’d done and seen too much. But he was glad he hadn’t. Because Grace Holliday would have made him out to be liar. She was doing more than rousing his interest.

“Uh…how long has it been since you’ve seen this—Trent?”

She grimaced as she considered whether to tell this man anything. “I—look, I don’t know you. Maybe I should just apologize for the intrusion and be on my way.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he eyed her suspiciously. “You’ve already said you were sorry once. That’s enough. But if you weren’t a pregnant woman, I would think you’d walked in here to steal something.”

Her green eyes widened with disbelief, then filled with insult. “I’m sure because I am a pregnant woman you’re thinking all sorts of things anyway.”

He was. But not the sort of things she believed he was thinking. And suddenly Jack decided he couldn’t let her know he was Trent’s uncle. At least, not for now. If he expected to find out who she really was and if her baby had any connection to his nephew, he was going to have to be very guarded about himself.

His gaze dropped to her left hand. There was no engagement ring or wedding band of any sort and she hadn’t corrected him when he’d addressed her as Miss.

“You’re not married to this Trent guy?”

She shook her head as a puzzled frown creased her face. “Why would you want to know?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “No reason, actually. But the way you were calling his name—you sounded pretty desperate to see him.”

Grace had been desperate to see Trent. Five months had passed since he’d left her and the baby behind. And during that time she’d mostly accepted the fact that he didn’t want her in his life. Especially on a long-term basis. But she’d hoped—prayed—that he would return for the baby’s sake.

“Yes,” she quietly admitted.

When she didn’t elaborate he asked, “Are you…planning on marrying this guy?”

A sad little smile curved her full lips. The expression bothered Jack more than he cared to acknowledge.

“No.”

His brows lifted ever so slightly. “Is he…the father of your baby?”

A shadow crossed over her face, closing it off to Jack.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “But I—have to get home now. Goodbye, Jack Barrett.”

For a moment, as she stepped past him, he considered latching onto her arm and stopping her. But he didn’t. She obviously didn’t want to talk to him. And he was in no position to press her without making himself appear suspicious.

When he heard the screen door softly bang behind her, Jack walked to the front of the bungalow and peered through the front screen.

Grace Holliday was crossing the small lawn in the direction of the house next door. Her head was down, her steps slow. No doubt she dreaded going home to face her parents with the news that it hadn’t been Trent she’d found next door, but an older, wiser and much more hardened man.

Hell, he very much doubted Trent was the father of her child anyway. If his nephew had stayed in the bungalow earlier this year, he’d no doubt brought friends along with him. If there was one thing Jack did know, Trent had always had plenty of buddies hanging around him. She could have gotten tangled up with one of Trent’s friends and was now looking for him to help her in some way.

One way or the other, Jack was going to find out. If for no other reason than his sister’s sake. Jillian was ten years older than Jack and had been divorced almost as many years as Trent had been living. The boy’s father had skipped out not long after the kid had been born, leaving Jillian to raise her son alone. The last thing his sister needed was for some money-hungry young woman to slap a lawsuit on her son.

By the time Grace entered the house and sank onto the side of the old four-poster, she was visibly trembling.

Clamping her hands together, she closed her eyes and willed the image of Jack Barrett away. She didn’t know who he was or why he was in Trent’s house. Yet one thing had been clearly certain, he hadn’t taken kindly to her little visit.

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked hard, determined to keep them at bay. It was far too late for tears or disappointment, she fiercely told herself.

Still, when she’d first seen the light in the bungalow her heart had soared. She’d been certain Trent had come back. Not for her. No, any hope she’d had for the two of them had died months ago when she’d first told him about the baby. The news had forced him into admitting he’d never really loved her. And had never intended to have a lifelong relationship with her. He’d simply come to Biloxi for a bit of fun and to wind down from final exams at Texas University in Austin.

After the initial shock and pain of being used had worn off, Grace had accepted the fact that she’d been a fool. And slowly the feelings she’d had for Trent had died. But since then she’d kept hoping, praying, he would return for the baby’s sake. She wanted her child to have a father. She wanted her son or daughter to know it was loved by both parents. And tonight, for a brief moment as she’d raced to the bungalow, she’d thought her hopes had come true.

Instead she’d discovered a man quite unlike any she’d ever encountered. Sensuality had oozed from every pore of his body. Just looking at him had made her quiver with an awareness she’d never before felt.

She’d not allowed herself the time to ask if he’d had a family or if he were planning to stay for a while. Getting away from his prying gray eyes had been of the utmost urgency in Grace’s mind. Yet even now, in the safety of her bedroom, she could still feel his gaze on her face and body.

He was not the sort of neighbor she would have chosen to have move in beside her. A big family with lots of happy, rowdy kids would have been more to her liking than Jack Barrett. From the look on his brooding face, she’d gotten the impression he’d wanted to either clamp his fingers around her neck or kiss her.

Shivering at the thought, she reached over and switched off the lamp at the head of the bed, then slowly undressed in the darkness. She had to forget about the man. Tomorrow was going to be another long, tiring day. She had to be rested and ready.

The next morning Jack’s secretary, Irene, answered his call on the fourth ring.

“What in hell are you doing?” he barked into the receiver. “Eating bonbons?”

“No, trying to seduce one of your clients. But he hightailed it out of here after the third ring. You have rotten timing, Jack. Besides, what are you doing calling the office? The doctor wanted you out of this place for a while, remember?”

Heaving a weary sigh, Jack tilted his head back far enough so that he could get a view of the house next door. Early this morning, before he’d cooked himself breakfast, he’d watched Grace carry an armload of books and a straw tote bag out to the car parked in the driveway. Her black hair had been down on her shoulders and the sea wind had whipped strands of it across her face and tugged at the tail of her long flowered skirt as she’d lowered herself into the little compact car.

Moments later she’d driven off in the direction of Gulfport, and so far she hadn’t returned. Nor had anyone else stirred around the big old house.

“I’m not in the office, Irene. I’m merely talking to you.”

“I don’t know why. You said you didn’t give a damn if you ever saw this place again,” Irene reminded him. “You said you never wanted to hear another phone, alarm clock, radio or TV. And you especially didn’t want to hear a judge’s rulings, a witness’s testimony or a client whining for a larger settlement.”

“That’s true,” he said curtly. “And I meant every word.”

He set his empty coffee cup on a low table in front of the couch, while Irene made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“So you’re quitting Barrett, Winslow and Layton?”

Was he? Jack asked himself. In his eyes, quitting was akin to losing. And Jack had never lost a case in the courtroom. He didn’t know how to lose. But the job was getting more and more meaningless. And so stressful that two days ago he’d wound up in his doctor’s office with a stomach full of fire and blood pressure high enough to kill him.

For thirty minutes he’d listened to the doctor lecture him about burying himself in his work and not taking time out for life outside his law practice. Hell, Jack didn’t have a life outside the office and he’d told the doctor so.

“Then you’d better get yourself one before you wake up with no life at all,” he’d told Jack.

“You haven’t answered, Jack. Are you quitting the firm?” Irene repeated her question.

“That would make Dad especially proud,” he said mockingly.

“John Barrett is dead, Jack,” she said bluntly. “There’s no reason for you to keep trying to please the man now.”

John Barrett. For years just the mention of the name had been enough to make corporations shake in their boots. No business large or small wanted to face the formidable lawyer in the courtroom.

From the time Jack had been a small boy he’d been groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps. Generations of Barretts before him had built the firm of Barrett, Winslow and Layton. Jack was expected to keep it going. Nothing else would have been acceptable in the eyes of his father.

“I didn’t call to get into a psychological discussion with you this morning, Irene. I need a little information and I was wondering if you’d seen or talked to Jillian lately.”

After a pause Irene said, “I don’t remember exactly when I last spoke with your sister. A couple of weeks ago, I think. She stopped by the office to see you. But you were in court that day.”

“What did she want to see me about?”

“Hmm. Nothing special that I recall. I think she just happened to be out shopping and dropped by on a whim. Why?”

“Did she mention Trent?”

“I asked her about him,” Irene explained. “She said he was doing fine. Especially now that he’d started at his new job.”

“What about a girlfriend? Did she mention one of those?”

Irene laughed. “Well, Trent has gone through a list of girlfriends. Sort of like his uncle, you know.”

Letting his secretary’s snide comment slide, he said, “I’m talking about a special one.”

“Trent thinks each one is special. Until he gets tired of them.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion on my nephew’s behavior, Irene. Just the facts.”

That he was treating the conversation as lawyer to a witness didn’t bother Irene. After fifteen years of being his secretary she was used to his brusque, plain-spoken manner.

“Sorry, I got carried away for a moment. Must have been all that sugar from the bonbons,” she replied. “But as for a name, I do recall Jillian mentioning some girl he’d been seeing steadily. I believe it was something like Tessa or Tricia.”

Not a Grace. Jack didn’t know how he felt about this bit of news.

“You’re sure?”

“Not a hundred percent. But I do remember it was a T name. Does that help?”

“A little.”

“Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, why should that surprise me,” she said with mock hurt. “I’m just the old faithful secretary that puts in sixty hours a week for you. I don’t deserve an explanation.”

He rolled his eyes. “Irene, if I thought I could do without you, I’d fire you.”

He could hear a wide smile in her voice as she replied, “But you can’t do without me, Jack. So you won’t fire me. Besides, I’m the only real friend you have.”

She was so close to the truth it made him wince. The fact that his fifty-five-year-old secretary was his very best friend said a damn lot about his life.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said crossly.

“Well, frankly, I don’t understand, Jack. I thought you went to Biloxi to get away from the stress of this place, not investigate your nephew.”

“I’m not doing an investigation, Irene,” he said tiredly.

There was a long pause, then she asked, “So how long are you planning to stay down there?”

“I don’t know. It all depends.”

“On what?”

His beautiful pregnant neighbor, Jack thought.

Out loud he said, “My mood, Irene.”

“Hmm. Well, I hope you’re in a better one the next time you call.”

“So do I,” he rumbled, then hung up the phone before she could say more.

Rising from the couch, he walked out onto the porch and gazed at the Gulf of Mexico. A brisk south wind was white-capping the water and pushing the waves onto the beach. The stretch of empty sand was no more than seventy-five to a hundred yards away and ran parallel to the front of the house. At the moment egrets and gulls screeched and swooped over the rolling salt water, some strutting boldly upon the white sand in search of a scrap to eat.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in Biloxi. He thought it might have been seven years ago. Vaguely, he recalled a case he’d been handling at the time. A casino had been suing a building contractor for some reason that escaped him now.

Since then, several more casinos had sprouted up along the beaches of the coastal resort town. But surprisingly, the added traffic and noise was far removed from this place, which, being some three miles away from town, had somehow managed to stay quietly sheltered. Other than the house next to him, there were no other residences around.

Jack couldn’t imagine Trent staying in such a quiet, isolated place. He always remembered the boy liking bright lights and excitement. Jack figured a plush room in one of the casinos would have been more to his liking. But then, he had to admit Grace Holliday would be an attraction in her own right for any young man. Perhaps between her and the gaming tables, his nephew had kept himself entertained and content with the place.

Damn it, what was he doing? He was already making the supposition that Grace Holliday was carrying Trent’s child. And that could be the furthermost thing from the truth.

If Jack were being completely honest with himself, the simple fact that Grace was carrying a child, no matter who had fathered it, bothered him. Though he didn’t understand why. Nowadays unwed mothers were the norm rather the exception. Besides, she was a total stranger to him. How she chose to live her life was none of his business.

Yet last night, when she’d offered him her hand, he’d sensed something different about her. It was almost as though she were a Southern-bred lady with pride and morals and family values. Not some woman who would sleep with a man, then try to extort money from him.

Hellfire, Jack, he silently cursed himself. You’ve been in the courtroom too long. You can’t see a gold digger when one is standing right in front of you.

Hours later, a squeaking noise grew louder, intruding on the fringes of Jack’s slumber. Damn birds, why didn’t they go back to the beach where they belonged? he wondered drowsily.

Another screeching squawk pierced his ears and popped his eyes wide open. Above his head, he saw a network of pine boughs swishing in the gentle breeze. Where the hell was he?

Scraping his fingers through his hair, he sat up on the chaise longue and through squinted eyes glanced around the small backyard. Everything came back to him with sudden clarity. The doctor’s grim edict. The long drive from Houston to Biloxi yesterday. The weariness he’d felt last night before Grace Holliday had made her uninvited appearance in the bungalow.

The memory of his pretty neighbor had him quickly glancing at the place next door. She could be home now. He hadn’t been watching; he’d spent most of the afternoon working on brief for a major upcoming trial. He’d come outside for a break and the last thing he remembered was sitting on the longue, listening to the lulling sound of the restless ocean and drinking in the scent of pine and salt water.

He must have been more tired than he’d thought to have fallen asleep like that. His lips twisted ruefully at the thought. Another clue that he was getting old and burned out.

Rising from the longue, he started for the house, then stopped dead in his tracks as Grace’s voice floated over to him.

“Joshua, don’t let your instrument sag. What have I been telling you for the past three weeks? You must keep it up and level at all times. Now, hold it there and start again. And this time don’t disappoint me.”

Jack’s eyes opened wider. The woman wasn’t in any condition for kinky, afternoon sex, was she?

Not less than fifteen feet away, a chain-link fence, along with several head-high azalea bushes, separated the two backyards.

Not knowing what to expect, he walked to the fence and peered through the bushes. About ten feet away, on a brick patio, Grace was standing with her back to him. Her hair was once more piled atop her head in a mass of loose curls. She was still wearing the yellow blouse and long skirt he’d seen her in early this morning.

As for the reprimanded Joshua, there was no sight of him. Then suddenly the squeaking noise that had awoken Jack moments earlier began again. Grace stepped to one side, giving him a bird’s-eye view of the culprit.

He appeared to be about eight years old. A shock of brown bangs threatened to jab his eyes and his tongue stuck from one corner of his mouth as he concentrated for all he was worth on the small violin tucked beneath his chin.

A music student! God help him, he’d come here for peace and quiet. This was the most torturous noise he’d ever heard in his life! And Grace Holliday couldn’t be a music teacher. She was too young. Too pregnant! Women like her didn’t do things like this, he silently argued.

“That’s much better, Joshua.” She spoke again. “But you’re letting your bow slide. Remember you must keep it straight with the bridge. And level.”

“Yes, I remember, Miss Holliday. But when I’m thinking about the notes my fingers have to make, I forget about the bow,” the youngster complained.

Jack watched her give the boy an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “I know you do, Joshua. But soon it will all come together for you and you’ll be playing Strauss in no time. I promise.”

Strauss! Hell’s bells, this kid couldn’t even play the scales. Was she loony?

Jack didn’t wait around to hear more. The screeching sounds of horse hair pulling and pushing against metal strings filled the backyard again, drowning out the breeze and the call of the seagulls.

He escaped into the bungalow, glad he had the windows shut and the air conditioner running. It was time for dinner, anyway, he thought. He’d fix himself something to eat, then maybe later, after “poor little Joshua” was gone, he’d find some way to talk to Grace again.

This time he intended to get some answers.

Chapter Two

Two hours later, the screeching and sawing was still going on. At the moment the offender was a redhead she called Albert. He’d come in after a towheaded boy who couldn’t have been more than six years old had pulverized Jack’s eardrums as he’d attempted to grill pork chops outside.

By now Jack was beyond trying to think up some legitimate excuse to talk to the woman again. Hours of this agonizing noise had given him ample reason for another confrontation.

Grace was unaware anyone was around until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She whirled and her mouth formed a perfect O at the sight of his tall frame towering over her.

“Uh…what are you doing over here?” she asked bluntly.

Jack asked himself the same question. He was a stranger around here. An interloper. Someone who would only be here for a short time, whereas this was her home. He didn’t have a right to complain or question her.

Unless she was planning something detrimental to his nephew, he quickly reminded himself. And there was no way of knowing that without acquainting himself with the woman. But that didn’t mean he had to be nice about it. Which was a good thing, because at the moment Jack was feeling anything but nice.

His jaw tight, he asked, “What do you think I’m doing?”

Her brows disappeared beneath a fringe of black bangs. “I wouldn’t know,” she answered curtly.

Disbelief widened his gray eyes, then his lips twisted into a mocking line. “I’m sure you never once imagined you’ve been dealing me some misery.”

Quickly she glanced at Albert, who was still struggling with the G-scale. Then casting her gaze back on her unexpected visitor, she asked, “I beg your pardon?”

He snorted at her innocent response. “Do you realize the noise you’re making over here?”

The man needed kicking in the shins. But with Albert present, she did her best to curb the unladylike urge.

“Would you mind stepping over here?” she asked, gesturing to a grouping of redwood lawn furniture positioned several feet away from Albert. “I don’t want my student distracted.”

Before he could reply, she’d turned and left him standing with his hands in his pockets.

“Look, Miss Holliday,” he said after he’d followed her to the secluded area where several chairs and a table were shaded by an enormous live oak. “I didn’t come over here to sit and have a chat with you. All I want is for you—”

Jack’s words halted as his eyes fell past the full thrust of her breasts and on to the large rounded bulge of her midsection. He’d not been around many pregnant women in his life and the ones he had, he’d not found attractive. But this one—there was just something about her that left him feeling wet behind the ears.

“For me to do what, Mr. Barrett?” she prompted.

He heaved out a disgusted breath. Then biting back the words he really wanted to say, he said, “Last night I didn’t tell you, but I plan to be here for the next few days.”

He hadn’t really told her anything about himself last night, Grace thought. But then, she hadn’t exactly stuck around to ask him. She’d found the man more than disturbing and this evening the feeling hadn’t lessened—in fact, it had intensified.

She couldn’t be certain about his age, but he appeared to be somewhere around thirty-eight or forty. That prime age when a man just can’t look any better. And this man was definitely at his peak, Grace decided.

He had the lean, muscled body of an athlete. His rough-hewn features, coupled with his thick mane of hair and cool gray eyes made him one of the most striking men she’d ever seen in her life.

“Really? So you’ve bought the bungalow from Trent?”

It wasn’t like the boy to lie, Jack thought. At least, he didn’t think so. But then he had to remind himself the Trent he remembered being around had been a teenager. Maybe he’d changed since then. Or maybe this woman was subtly trying to draw information from Jack.

“The place belongs to me now,” he said evasively.

Once again he could see a shadow of disappointment cloud her green eyes.

“I see,” she said quietly. “So that means…”

“Means what?” he urged.

She shook her head, then forced a wan smile to her face. “Nothing.”

For the first time in his life Jack was at a loss for words, making him glad his associates weren’t around to see him. He’d tackled hundreds of hostile witnesses, wrangled words with some of the most formidable judges in the country and never lost his ability to lead the conversation to where he wanted it to go.

But with this woman, words failed him. All he could do was stare and think. And feel things he shouldn’t be feeling. What in the hell was the matter with him, anyway?

“Look, Miss Holliday, I came to Biloxi for some peace and quiet. I didn’t expect to find this.” He jerked his head backward toward Albert and his screeching instrument.

His clipped statement appeared to take her aback and for a moment Jack thought he saw a wounded look in her eyes, as though it pained her that he was being unfriendly. But, hell, that was a crazy notion. She didn’t even know him. It couldn’t matter to her whether he was Mr. Nice or a real jerk.

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. The movement made the mound of baby she was carrying even more evident to his gaze. “Surely Trent told you about me.”

His eyes narrowed. “What about you?” he asked carefully.

She frowned as though she considered his question inane. “That I was a music teacher, of course. And that you might encounter…well that some of the music might spill over onto your place from time to time.”

The idea that she called these boys’ squawking efforts “music” made him want to laugh out loud. But at the same time he’d been expecting her to come out with something much more personal about Trent. The fact that she hadn’t, disappointed Jack greatly. He was anxious to get to the truth. And even more eager to get away from this woman. She bothered him in ways he couldn’t begin to understand.

“Actually, he didn’t tell me anything. I…purchased the property through a Realtor,” he lied. “Yesterday was my first day to ever step foot on the place.”

Her expression said only a fool would buy a piece of property without looking at it first. And it dawned on him that she didn’t have any idea he had money to burn. The amount he’d paid for this little spot on the beach had been insignificant to him.

“Why?”

Jack frowned. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why did you buy this place without looking it over first?”

Impatient with her question and even more with himself because he found her so damned intriguing, he asked sharply, “Do you think that really concerns you?”

She took a seat on the edge of one of the chairs and crossed her sandaled feet. Jack’s gaze was instantly drawn to her toenails, which were painted a rich, lusty red. How the hell she managed to reach them, he didn’t know. But then, maybe she had a man who’d been glad to paint them for her. The idea grated on him far worse than the sound of Albert’s resined bow.

“No. It really doesn’t concern me at all, Mr. Barrett. Just as my music students don’t concern you.”

Slowly he folded his arms against his chest. “I’m sorry, but that’s where you’re wrong. And as for calling that—” he gestured back over his shoulder toward Albert “—‘music’, I think you need to have your ears tested.”

She cast him a too sweet smile. “If you’re bothered by the music, perhaps you should go inside.”

The grin he shot back at her was anything but sincere. “Why don’t you go inside?” he suggested.

Straightening her shoulders, she stared him in the eye. This man was way too arrogant for his own good, she decided. “For one, my air conditioner is not working. It’s hot inside. Two, I want to get the children accustomed to playing out of doors. Since they’ll be putting on an outdoor concert this fall for one of the local elementary schools.”

He snorted with mocking disbelief. “Concert! For the past two hours I haven’t heard one decent note from these kids!”

Her lips compressed to a flat line, she rose to her feet. “Will you kindly lower your voice? I don’t want Albert to hear you.”

“Well, I’ve been hearing him for the past thirty minutes. How much longer is this going to go on?”

Grace took in a long breath and let it out slowly as she tried to compose herself. Of course, anyone who wasn’t used to being around beginning music students, especially violin students, weren’t prepared for the noise, but this man didn’t have to be so rude and insensitive about it all.

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Barrett?”

“I’m a lawyer. What has that got to do with anything?”

It figured, Grace thought. He seemed awfully good at asking personal questions. “Did you go into the courtroom without training?”

He glowered and she quickly answered for him.

“Don’t bother telling me. We both know you had years of it. And even then you weren’t an expert. You had to learn. Just like Albert and the rest of my students. And if you do happen to stick around until this fall, I’ll show you what I mean.”

He’d angered her, Jack realized. Her breasts were heaving up and down in short spurts. The color along her angled cheekbones had deepened to the shade of rich wine. Sparks lit her green eyes and the odd thought struck Jack that he wished he were as alive as this woman standing in front of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt as much passion as he saw on her face.

“I’m sure I won’t be here this fall, Miss Holliday. Like I told you earlier, I’m only staying…a few days.”

She studied him keenly, making Jack wonder what she saw when she looked at him. An old man? A pesky neighbor? Or was she looking at him in a more personal way?

Hell, Jack, since when did you ever care how a woman looked at you.

Not since his wife, and she’d divorced him years ago.

“What about your family? Are they not staying here with you, too?” she asked.

“No. I don’t have a family.”

“Oh.” The news left Grace feeling strangely warm and disturbed. At his age she’d expected him to have a family. If not with him, then tucked safely away somewhere. Now that she knew he didn’t have a wife or children, she felt even more threatened by his powerful presence. “I’m sorry,” she added.

He stopped short of releasing a mocking laugh. “Sorry? Look, this is the way I want to be. Free. Single. I’m as happy as a hog in a watermelon patch.”

From the looks of him, he’d never been that happy in his life, Grace thought. But then, the haggard lines on his face could be mostly from fatigue. Or anger at her for disturbing his peace and quiet.

“Miss Holliday, it’s seven-thirty. My mom is going to be waiting out front.”

Giving herself a mental shake, Grace glanced away from the man to see Albert climbing down from the step-chair where he’d been practicing his violin.

“Excuse me,” she said to Jack. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Jack started to tell her it was time for him to go, too. But he stopped himself short. He’d wanted an opportunity to talk to her. Now that she’d given him one, it would be foolish to pass it up.

Jack listened while she gave Albert instructions on what to practice through the coming week. Eventually the boy’s sheet music and instrument were packed away and with a gentle smile, she led him by the hand out of the backyard.

As Jack watched, he had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that she seemed good with children. Though he’d never had any kids himself, he could easily remember back to when he’d been Albert’s age. Francine, his mother, had been loud and high strung with hardly any time for her son or daughter. She’d never smiled or touched him with the tenderness Grace has just shown Albert. She’d liked her cocktails and the social life that went with being the wife of a highly successful corporate lawyer. She’d seen that Jack and Jillian had the material things they’d needed, but had never given either of them any emotional nurturing.

Francine, having divorced their father shortly before he’d died of a heart attack, had quickly married a wealthy financier on the west coast. Jillian still shed tears when she recalled how their mother had treated them through the years. As for Jack, he didn’t give a damn if he ever saw the woman again.

Pushing the dark thought aside, Jack hitched up his trousers and took a seat on one of the lawn chairs to wait for Grace’s return.

Five minutes passed with no sign of Grace. Jack was getting more than a little restless, wishing he’d held his temper and tongue. He knew from long experience that badgering a person who held information he wanted was not the way to go about business. Honey always caught more flies than vinegar. Trouble was, Jack had almost forgotten how to sweeten his words and still manage to sound sincere. He’d used to be damned good at it, but then, he’d used to want to be a lawyer, too.

“Sorry I was gone so long. But Albert’s mother likes to talk.”

He glanced up to see Grace walking toward him. Quickly he rose to his feet. “Look, Miss Holliday, this whole thing with your students…let’s just forget it. If you’ll be kind enough to let me know when they’ll be around, I’ll try to be gone. That way neither of us will be bothered.”

She searched his face, trying to decide if his olive branch was real. She must have decided he’d passed the test, because after a moment she smiled.

Her teeth were very white against her creamy skin and red lips. A faint dimple dented one of her cheeks and for the first time he noticed there was a tiny freckle just above the top line of her lip. She was perfectly beautiful. If Trent had been involved with her, Jack could certainly see why. Attraction was stirring deep in his gut, making him wonder if he’d gone suddenly crazy. She was pregnant and a good fifteen years or more his junior!

“Please, call me Grace,” she invited. “You’re not one of my violin pupils.”

Clearing his throat, he said, “All right, Grace.”

That he’d conceded to call her by her first name seemed to please her. Her green eyes softened and her lips continued to tilt upward in a provocative smile. “Would you like something to drink. Iced tea? Coffee?”

At the moment he could have used a good shot of Kentucky bourbon, but she didn’t look to be the drinking sort. Actually, if it wasn’t for her pregnant condition, she’d be the perfect sheltered Southern miss.

“It’s hot inside the house,” she went on before he could answer. “But I could bring the drinks out here.”

She sounded almost eager for his company, making the skeptical part of him wonder why. No doubt she had plenty of male friends her own age. Obviously she’d had one in particular.

“There’s no need for you to bother,” he told her. “I just had supper not long ago.”

“Oh, it’s no bother,” she assured him. “You wait here and I’ll be right back.”

Once again Jack took a seat in the lawn chair and as he waited for her to return with the drinks, he made a slow survey of the backyard.

Along with the deep shade offered by the trees, a vine-covered arbor sheltered the brick patio. Potted plants grew in abundance everywhere, lending splashes of bright color to the modest surroundings. From the looks of the house, it needed attention in several places. The paint was particularly weathered and faded from the incessant onslaught of salty sea breeze.

The neglected condition of the house made him wonder what her parents did for a living and why they hadn’t made an effort to do better. But Jack wasn’t going to be too quick to pass judgment on the people. For all he knew, Grace’s parents might be working their butts off to put several more children through high school or college.

Inside the house, Grace momentarily leaned against the kitchen cabinet counter and pressed a paper towel moistened with cold water against her forehead. She was so sick of being hot and tired. So weary of trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other when every inch of her body was screaming to rest.

She didn’t know why in the world she’d invited Jack Barrett to stay for a drink. It wasn’t as if he was a good friend or even a fond acquaintance. But he was her next-door neighbor. And long before he’d died, her grandfather had passed on his Southern upbringing to Grace. Elias would’ve considered it downright rude to not be neighborly and hospitable. Even to a stranger, who wasn’t so friendly himself, she thought grimly.

But she wasn’t going to be too quick to judge Jack Barrett, she promised herself. He might be dealing with a lot of personal problems at the moment. His curt attitude might be hiding a broken heart. He certainly had the look of a man who didn’t have much love in his life. And Grace definitely knew how dark and lonely that could make a person feel.

Only a very short time passed before she reappeared carrying a tray with a tall pitcher and two tumblers filled with crushed ice. As she placed the tray on a small table between them and began to pour the tea, Jack felt a pang of uneasiness, even guilt.

He couldn’t believe she was offering him traditional Southern hospitality after the way he’d talked about her music pupils. But then, she could easily have an ulterior motive for being nice to him, just as he had for wanting to talk to her.

“You shouldn’t have gone to this much trouble. Not for me,” he said, wondering why the hell his conscious had suddenly decided to show its face after all these years.

She handed him one of the glasses, then gestured to the tray. “There’s sugar and lemon, if you like. As for the trouble, I have a motive for keeping you here with a drink.”

Jack’s hand paused in midair as he reached for a lemon wedge. “Oh,” he said guardedly. “What is it?”

“Well, I hope you won’t be offended, but—”

This brought his head up and his gaze connected with hers. A sheepish little smile was on her lips and he feared he was about to learn the true side of Grace Holliday.

“But what?” he pressed.

She shrugged, then let out a sigh. “I guess I might as well not be bashful about it,” she said. “Especially now that I have you here.”

His brows lifted with curiosity, but otherwise he remained quiet. Inside his chest, his heart beat with sluggish dread as he waited for her to continue.

Eventually she spoke. “After you said what you did a while ago about not having family and being here alone, I thought maybe…well, that I might do a little work for you while you’re here.”

Her suggestion jerked him straight up in the chair. Work! Was she crazy?

“Look, Grace, I don’t know what sort of work you have in mind, but I came down here to Biloxi to get out of the office. I only brought one lengthy brief with me and I can manage to type up my own notes.”

She tilted her head back and laughed. Jack was too busy taking in the smooth slender line of her neck and the musical sound slipping past her lips to be insulted by her response.

“I don’t mean legal work! Good Lord, I don’t know a thing about the law. I was talking about cleaning your house. Or maybe doing your cooking or laundry. Any chore of that sort which you might not want to tend to yourself.”

House-cleaning, cooking and laundry, in her condition? It was obscene, as far as Jack was concerned. His feelings must have shown on his face because as she continued to look at him, disappointment fell over her soft features.

“Grace, you obviously have a job with your music pupils. Surely your parents don’t want you taking on more. Especially in your shape.”

Her brows pulled together as a look of total confusion filled her face. “‘My parents’?” she repeated blankly. “Jack, I don’t have any parents. I live here alone.”

Chapter Three

“Alone? You live here—alone?”

The incredulous tone of his voice put a wan smile on Grace’s face. “Yes. I do. I teach violin on Tuesday and Friday evenings. The rest of the week, I go to college. So I need all the work I can get.”

“But you…you’re—” He couldn’t say the word and he knew some of his old law cronies would howl with laughter if they could see him now. Stuttering as though he were as green as grass. Damn it, what was wrong with him? There wasn’t much he hadn’t seen or confronted in his lifetime. Nothing embarrassed him. Nothing really touched him. He was too hard-shell, too used up to let anything get to him.

“Pregnant,” she finished for him. “But that doesn’t make me an invalid. It only makes me need the money more.”

That she wanted money had been in Jack’s mind all along, he’d just never expected her to want to work for it. Even now, he still wasn’t sure he’d heard her right.

“Aren’t your parents helping support you?” he was prompted to ask.

A guarded expression stole over her face as she quickly glanced away from him. “I don’t have any parents,” she said flatly. “Not in the normal way you’re thinking.”

“Are they dead?”

His blunt question didn’t seem to bother her and it made him wonder if deep down, beneath the smiles and gentle words she’d shown her music pupils, she was just as hard as he was. Jack had learned a long time ago that the female gender was expert at deception.

“My father died from a hunting accident when I was very small. As for my mother—she isn’t around.”

“Because she doesn’t approve of your pregnancy?”

Her brows lifted at his question and then a pained little smile curled the corners of her lips. “She doesn’t know about my pregnancy.”

“Why not?” Jack persisted.

She frowned at him as he tilted the glass to his lips.

“Do you always ask personal questions of strangers?”

Jack supposed he had been coming on a bit strong. He told himself it was because of Trent and Jillian that he was so eager to learn about Grace Holliday’s life. Yet somewhere in the deeper part of him, he had to admit he simply wanted to know her, the woman.

“Sorry. It’s the lawyer in me, I suppose. Asking questions is akin to breathing to me.” Without looking at her, he swirled the amber liquid in his glass, making the ice tinkle against the sides. “I guess the question was a bit nosy.”

Grace didn’t know what was the matter with her. Normally she never minded personal questions. Even ones that had to do with her flighty mother. But Trent’s desertion had changed her. She no longer trusted men. She took every word, every look, very cautiously. And something about Jack Barrett put her on guard even more.

“Why my mother doesn’t know about my pregnancy is a long story. One I’m sure you’d find boring,” she found herself saying.

He lifted his gaze to her and quickly discovered she was looking at him. The feel of her somber green eyes gliding over his face jerked at something buried between his chest and his gut.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he murmured.

She inhaled a deep breath, then glanced away from him as she let it out. “I can’t believe you thought I was living with my parents.” She turned her gaze back on him. “I’m twenty-three years old.”

She said it as if that was a great old age, as if she had plenty of wisdom to get along in this world alone. Any other time Jack would have snorted at her attitude, but something in her eyes stopped him. Behind her brave stare, there were dark, sad shadows that normally would have taken years to acquire.

He shrugged. “Because you’re single, I just assumed you still lived at home with your family. An honest mistake, don’t you think?”

She grimaced. “I suppose so.”

“Well, since I’ve already offended you I might as well go on and ask you how you manage to get by on your own like this. Is the baby’s father…helping you financially?”

She looked away from him. Jack couldn’t help but watch as she pressed the ice-cold glass against her throat and down the open collar of her blouse where it veed just above the valley between her breasts.

“No.”

As he digested the one word, he could only think that her baby couldn’t belong to Trent. Jillian hadn’t raised the boy to shirk his responsibilities.

“Doesn’t that make you angry?”

“Humph,” she softly snorted. “I don’t expect money from him. Having a man’s child isn’t about money.”

He watched her face keenly as he sipped from his glass. “Have you asked him for financial help?”

Her face suddenly turned stony. “No. And I don’t intend to. He—Trent doesn’t want me or the baby. And I don’t want handouts from him—or anyone else.”

Trent doesn’t want me or the baby. The volunteered information was so unexpected Jack was knocked sideways for a moment. Then doubt swiftly washed in behind the wave of surprise. Even if she did name Trent as the father of her baby, he wasn’t going to be so quick to believe her. She might have been involved with a number of young men, but Trent just happened to be the one with money.

“So this…er, Trent you were calling out for last night is the—father?”

Jack took the faint jerk of her head to be a nod.

Frowning he said, “Maybe the guy doesn’t have enough money to care for himself, much less a wife and baby,” he suggested.

She placed her glass on the table between them, then wearily rubbed her hands against the small of her back. “Trent has plenty of money,” she told him. “He spent more in the casinos than I make teaching violin all year.”

Jack didn’t doubt that. He could see she lived meagerly compared to the standards he and his nephew were accustomed to.

“Is that what drew you to him? His money?”

She scowled at him as she continued to push at her back. The movement thrust her breast forward and, although Jack told himself not to look, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her lush, womanly body.

“What’s the matter with you, anyway?” she asked. “Do you have a fixation for money or something? You sure do mention it a lot.”

Her suggestion pulled him up short. Jack had never considered himself as having an obsession for money. He’d been born into wealth and as a grown man he’d acquired an even heftier sum of his own. It was something he’d never had to do without. Nor ever would. But Grace was right. He’d mentioned money several times to her in the past few minutes. Did he place too much importance on the stuff?

“No,” he answered out loud. “But I—I was just wondering what you’d seen in this guy in the first place. He sounds like a jerk to me. Are you…sure he’s the father of your baby?”

She stared at him and Jack knew he’d gone too far as he watched her jaw drop and hot color fill her cheeks.

“I’ve never met anyone so insulting in my life!” Rising to her feet, she picked up the tray. “Don’t bother to bring your glass to the door when you’ve finished. I’ll get it later.”

She turned and headed toward the house. Before Jack had time to consider his actions, he jumped from the chair and caught up to her on the shaded patio.

As she reached to open the door he caught her by the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Grace. I was out of line.”

The touch of his hand, more than his words, brought her head around and she glanced pointedly down at his long fingers.

“You’re not sorry. You were just being yourself. But that doesn’t mean I have to sit around and take it. I’m not one of your witnesses. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”

He released his fingers as though she’d scorched him, then jammed both his hands into the pockets of his khaki trousers. “You’re mad at me,” he said, stunned that it should matter to him.

“No. Disappointed is more like it.”

Minute by minute this woman was turning out to be anything than what he’d first imagined her to be, and he didn’t know what to think or do next.

“I really wasn’t trying to be insulting, Grace. A man looks at these things more logically than a woman. And I was just thinking that maybe you’d be better off if the baby belonged to someone else. Because it appears you’re not getting any help from this Trent.”

Down through the years he’d sometimes been forced to use a bit of deceit to pull a player into his corner or to swing a case his way. It was just part of the job. But not being totally honest with Grace was beginning to trouble him in a way he wasn’t liking at all.

Jack could actually see Irene rolling her eyes in mock disbelief if he were to tell her his conscience had finally made a reappearance after all these years.

Grace sighed deeply, then shook her head. “Look Jack, I’ve only just now met you. How I manage to support myself is really none of your business. And as for my baby’s father, he’s out of the picture and I expect him to stay out.”

She’d said enough, he told himself. This was all he really needed to know. He ought to thank her for the drink, apologize again, then tell her a final goodbye. Yet, he couldn’t let the whole thing simply drop now.

There was still too much he wanted to know before the lawyer in him would be completely satisfied.

“If you’ll remember, Grace, you’re the one who brought this whole thing up. You’re the one who asked me for a job.”

Her lips compressed into a flat line. “Yes. And I’m sorry I did. I didn’t know you were going to take it as a go-ahead to interrogate me.”

Sarcasm twisted his features. “I normally interview people before they come to work for me. It’s the standard procedure.”

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “By asking them who and how many they’ve slept with? I’m sorry, but that’s just getting a might bit personal for me.” Her gaze swept him up and down in a deliberately leering manner. “Maybe you should remember the old saying about those without sin throwing the first stone, because I very much doubt you’ve been living like a monk.”

Even though her words angered him, the hot blaze in her green eyes excited him as nothing he could ever remember. He wanted to jerk her into his arms, smother her lips with his. It was crazy. She was a stranger—and a pregnant one at that! Yet the feeling was there, anyway. And it felt glorious to a man who’d been emotionally dead for a long, long time.

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Grace. Just trying to…offer some advice from a different perspective.”

She glanced away from him and, though her profile remained rock-hard, he didn’t miss her painful swallow or the telltale blink of her long black lashes.

Suddenly Jack wondered if he could be wrong about this woman. Maybe she hadn’t purposely set out to snare a rich husband. Maybe she’d been led on, then left to suffer the consequences on her own. Damn it, he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—know unless he managed to get closer to her. And something told him that might be a very dangerous thing to do.

“I don’t need your so-called advice,” she said tightly.

“What about that job? Do you still need it?”

Slowly her head turned and her expression was incredulous as she met his gaze. “Are you serious?”

No, more like insane, Jack thought. But he’d already gone too far, he couldn’t turn back now. Moreover, he realized he didn’t want to.

“Yes. I could use a housekeeper. I wouldn’t have much work,” he warned. “But maybe enough to help you out.”

She appeared to suddenly wilt as a long breath rushed out of her. Wiping a hand across her damp brow, she said, “I’m sorry. I have to—sit down.”

She handed him the tray and crossed the few feet to where a couple of wicker chairs were shaded by a curtain of moonflower vine.

As she sank wearily into the chair, Jack moved toward her, his face wrinkled with concern. “Are you ill or something?” he asked.

She shook her head, then, leaning down, began to unbuckle her sandals. “No. Just very tired.”

Once the leather straps were loose around her ankles, she looked up to see him still standing inches away, holding the tray she’d given him. “Oh, I forgot. Just put that thing down anywhere. I’ll take it in later.”

“Maybe you should go in the house and lie down,” he suggested. She did look exhausted; he wondered if their slightly heated exchange had drained her. He didn’t want to think so. The last thing Jack wanted to do was to inadvertently harm her or her unborn child.

Her fingers continued to rub her ankles where the leather straps had fastened the sandals to her feet. “I will later,” she assured him. “After you tell me about the job.”

Jack placed the tray on a storage shelf by the back door, then took a seat in the wicker chair next to her. “There’s not much to tell.”

She looked at him, then, smiling wanly, she shook her head. “You and I really have a hard time communicating. I wonder why that is? I thought lawyers were expert at getting to the point.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. “Quite the opposite, Grace. We’re professionals at drawing people’s thoughts off the real issue.”

Her brows peaked with sudden interest. “Is that what you’re trying to do with me?” she asked warily.

In a way that was exactly what he was doing, he thought a bit guiltily. But this time he had an even better reason than simply looking out for a client’s interest. Grace had already admitted Trent was the father of the baby. If true, that meant the child was connected to his family. He had a right to find out where her intentions were headed.

“I’m not trying to do anything to you, Grace,” he said, frustration roughing his voice. “Except offer you a little work if you want it.”

“I do.”

“Good. I don’t do house-cleaning. And I know very little about cooking.”

Grace couldn’t imagine preparing a meal for this man. Although she’d never had money in her life, she could always spot a person with plenty. And with Jack it was easy to see he was an affluent man by the cut of his hair, the casual, but classic clothes, the Italian leather loafers on his feet, the thin, expensive watch on his wrist.

No doubt Jack Barrett was accustomed to having the best cuisine money could buy. Not to mention anything else his heart desired. Yet as she’d already noticed, he appeared to be anything but happy. The notion made her suddenly remember something her grandfather had often told her.

People with big money are no different than you and me, Gracie. They have their problems, too. Only theirs are bigger.

She said, “I’d better warn you that some of my classes keep me late in the evenings. But on the days I teach violin I’m home earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not on a rigid working schedule.”

“Fine. Just let me know when you want me to start.”

Jack felt like a fool. He didn’t need a housekeeper or a cook. Though he never tended to those chores in his home back in Houston, he was adept at fending for himself whenever need be.

“You haven’t asked about the pay,” he pointed out.

She kicked off her sandals, then bent forward to place them to one side of the chair. A lock of glossy black hair fell loose from the messy blob of curls and tumbled over one eye. She slowly pushed it back as she looked up at him.

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