Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Copyright

There, On The Birth Certificate, Was His Name, Drey Angeli.

He stared at it, hardly breathing.

He could erase it with the stroke of a key. No one was looking. It would take only seconds and he could wipe out the record, make sure no one ever knew. He glanced back into the nursery, craned his head to see baby Calli’s bed. The only things visible from this angle were her little fists waving in the air. His heart lurched and he shook his head, looking back at the screen.

No. He wouldn’t erase his name. He was Calli’s father, and no one would ever be able to take that away from him.

Dear Reader,

Happy holidays from the staff at Silhouette Desire! As you can see by the special cover treatment this month, these books are our holiday gifts to you. And each and every story is so wonderful that I know you’ll want to buy extras to give to your friends!

We begin with Jackie Merritt’s MAN OF THE MONTH, Montana Christmas, which is the conclusion of her spectacular MADE IN MONTANA series. The fun continues with Instant Dad, the final installment in Raye Morgan’s popular series THE BABY SHOWER.

Suzannah Davis’s Gabriel’s Bride is a classic—and sensuous—love story you’re sure to love. And Anne Eames’s delightful writing style is highlighted to perfection in Christmas Elopement. For a story that will make you feel all the warmth and goodwill of the holiday season, don’t miss Kate Little’s Jingle Bell Baby.

And Susan Connell begins a new miniseries—THE GIRLS MOST LIKELY TO…—about three former high school friends who are now all grown up in Rebel’s Spirit. Look for upcoming books in the series in 1997.

Happy holidays and happy reading from

AND THE STAFF OF SILHOUETTE DESIRE

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

Instant Dad
Raye Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RAYE MORGAN

favors settings in the West, which is where she has spent most of her life. She admits to a penchant for Western heroes, believing that whether he’s a rugged outdoorsman or a smooth city sophisticate, he tends to have a streak of wildness that the romantic heroine can’t resist taming. She’s been married to one of those Western men for twenty years and is busy raising four more in her Southern California home.

Prologue

THE INVITATIONS ARE OUT

“Why do they call them baby showers, anyway?”

Sara Parker looked up from the last of the invitations she was addressing. “I don’t know. Maybe because they are a celebration where you shower the baby with gifts.”

“Hmm.” Jenny Kirkland sounded skeptical. Leaning back in her chair, she patted her rounded belly. “I just hope this little one arrives in time for the shower you’re having. It’ll be fun for you to show all your friends your new baby.”

Sara glanced at where her sister’s hand was placed, an uneasy mixture of love and envy filling her eyes. If only she were the one who was pregnant instead of Jenny, this would all seem more natural. But no matter —the baby Jenny was carrying would soon be hers. It was the waiting that was so hard.

“You’re invited too, you know,” she said with a quick smile.

Jenny laughed. “I don’t think so. Baby showers and a bunch of women getting together to play games and drink green punch are not exactly my sort of scene.”

Sara knew she was only being honest. Jenny could usually be found wherever the music was the loudest and the men the handsomest. It was amazing that Sara had been able to convince her to spend all these months gestating a baby and she knew Jenny was champing at the bit to get back into the action on the singles scene.

“Only a couple more weeks,” she told her softly as she put the stamp on the last envelope. “Not long at all.”

Jenny stared at her for a moment, her green eyes rebellious. But she didn’t express what she was thinking. Instead, she sighed and said, “Let’s go over it again. If it’s a girl, I’ll name her Calli. If it’s a boy, I’ll name him Christopher. Is that it?”

Sara nodded. Those were the names they had decided upon between them. Jenny had been particularly keen on the boy’s name and that made Sara wonder.

“Was his name Christopher?” she asked casually, still sealing envelopes.

Jenny looked up, startled. “Whose name?”

“You know who I mean. The baby’s father.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Let’s not get sentimental about this.” She tossed her red hair back over her shoulder, then glanced at her sister’s face and softened when she saw the look in her eyes. “Oh, forget about it, Sara. You don’t want to know who the father was. It’s better left alone.”

But Sara did want to know. She hated leaving strings, leaving things undone, unfinished. “But if he shows up all of a sudden and wants his child.”

“He won’t. He doesn’t even know I’m pregnant. He’ll never know.”

Sara wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. She and Jenny might be sisters, but they were very different and didn’t often see eye to eye on anything. Where Sara wanted the is dotted and the is crossed, Jenny wouldn’t even bother to write out full words. Abbreviations would do for her.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Jenny asked suddenly.

“Me?” Sara stared at her. “That’ll be the day. I can hardly wait to…” Her eyes filled with dreams and her voice lowered. “To hold the little bundle in my arms and kiss that downy head and—”

“Okay, okay,” Jenny said quickly. “I get the picture.” She pushed herself awkwardly out of the chair and rose, turning in the direction of the kitchen. “I can hardly wait, either. Only with me, it’s like waiting to get out of prison. Once I deliver this child, I’ll be free, and you can bet I’ll never get myself in this condition again.”

Sara sighed as her sister disappeared down the hallway. She’d done all she could for the past few months, trying to keep Jenny’s spirits up, trying to get her to rest and eat well. For a while, she’d even had her living here in her house so that she could keep an eye on her. But they’d clashed a few too many times and Jenny had gone back to her apartment. Now she came by to visit every few days, but that was it. And Sara was feeling very much alone in her adventure.

That was why she wanted her friends around her so badly. She spread out the invitations on the desk, looking for the most important ones. She’d invited people from all over, but there were only three she really cared about—her three roommates from college. She hadn’t seen any of them for almost ten years and she felt that lack like an ache in her heart.

There was warm, lovable Cami Bishop, now publishing a fern journal in California. Hailey Kingston, beautiful as any model, had come back from art school in Paris to begin a career as a buyer for a San Francisco department store. And J. J. Jensen was in Utah, from what she’d heard, still pursuing her dream of landing the anchor position on some big network television news show. The four of them had been inseparable all through college, there for secrets and for comfort, helping each other pass exams and heal broken hearts. They had all been so full of dreams when they’d started out. Funny how none of the goals had quite panned out. Still, those three young women had been responsible for pulling her away from the defensive, introspective world she’d built around her like a cocoon since childhood, pulling her away from that out into the sunshine. She would always love them for it. Now she felt herself losing confidence again and she needed her old roommates’ help to get through this.

“Please come,” she whispered as she tied the envelopes together and prepared for a trip to the post office. “The way things are going, I have a feeling I’m really going to need a friend.”

One

Drey Angeli walked into the colorful Denver steak house like a man who knew what he wanted. The place had elk hides on the wall and long horns mounted over the bar. With his shoulder-length golden hair and buckskin jacket worn to the color of sandstone in the sun, Drey looked as if he belonged there.

Stopping for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light, he shook his head at the scantily clad hostess hurrying toward him and surveyed the clientele on his own. He spotted the man he was looking for and started toward him. At six foot four with shoulders as wide as an acre of land, he made an imposing figure and people tended to make way when they saw him coming.

“Hello, Carter,” he said, stopping at a table where a tall, thin man sat devouring a thick porterhouse. “I’ve been looking for you.”

The older man looked up, did a double take and grinned. “Sit down, Drey,” he said, waving an invitation to the opposite chair. “I haven’t seen you since you ran off with my wife. Sit down and fill me in on what’s been happening.”

Drey slid into the seat in one fluid motion and reached for Carter’s drink, taking a sip and making a face.

“Still drinking rotgut, I see.”

Signaling the waitress, he put in an order for bourbon and water, then turned and gazed at his companion with his head back and his eyes half-closed. “I didn’t, you know,” he said quietly.

Carter stared at him for a long moment before saying, “Run off with Nancy?” He shrugged and began cutting off another huge bite of meat. “Let’s just say she went running after you.”

Drey waited a moment, thinking while Carter chewed. Finally he responded. “Your wife,” he said, choosing his words deliberately, “was hardly in a rational frame of mind when she left you. She just needed some time.”

“Hey, Drey, it’s okay.” Carter laughed softly, reaching for his napkin and wiping his mouth before he took another sip of his drink. “She’s back home where she belongs. She told me how you talked her into coming back to me. Everything’s cool. I was ribbing you.”

Relief filled Drey’s dark eyes for a moment and he took a deep breath. “I’m glad, Carter. For your sake and for mine.” He hesitated, then went on. “I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

The waitress brought his drink and he knocked back a portion of it, then sat for a moment, letting it warm him inside. “Here’s the deal. I hear you have a woman named Sara Parker asking you to find her a carpenter to put in some shelves and do some cabinetry work.”

Carter nodded slowly, waiting.

Drey met his gaze and held it. “Send me,” he said simply.

Carter’s eyebrows rose. “You? You haven’t worked for me since you graduated college. What was that? Five years ago?”

Drey nodded. “Let me take it, Carter. I don’t care about the money. You can have it all. I just want to go out there and do the job.”

Carter’s eyes narrowed as he speculated. “What’s going on, Drey? What’s your relationship with the lady? You got the hots for her or something?”

Drey shook his head. “I’ve never met her. But I want to do the job. I’ve got my own reasons.”

Carter hesitated, puzzled. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “How long’s it been since you’ve done any work with wood?”

Drey let out a hiss of exasperation. “Give me a break. You don’t think I’d do a good job?”

Carter laughed softly. “Nah, I always did say you were the best carpenter I ever hired.”

Drey nodded, as though that settled it, and took a long sip of his bourbon. “Tell me something,” he said, leaning a little closer. “You’ve worked for this woman before, haven’t you? Where’s Mr. Parker?”

Carter shrugged, still watching Drey as though he were trying to figure him out. “I haven’t ever seen him. He’s always away on business trips. He’s some sort of high-class executive or something.”

Drey contemplated that for a moment, frowning. “You’ve done a lot of work out at her place?”

Carter grimaced. “Not a lot. I got a pool house built for her last summer and fixed a couple of doors that were sticking. Oh, and we made her an enclosure for her microwave. That’s about it.”

Drey nodded slowly.

Carter leaned forward, curiosity burning in his eyes. “Come on, Drey. Give. What’s going on?”

Drey’s smile was faint but evident. “It’s personal.”

Carter frowned, staring at him. “It may be personal to you, but it’s business to me. I’ve got to be sure you’re on the up-and-up here, Drey. Mrs. Parker is a good client of mine.”

Drey’s mouth twisted as he thought over his options. “Okay,” he said at last. “I’ll tell you this much. I used to date her sister, Jenny Kirkland.”

Carter stared at him. “What is this, Drey? Did she dump you?”

Drey allowed himself a fleeting smile. “No, she didn’t dump me.”

“Did you dump her?”

Drey’s mouth gave a quirk of annoyance. “That doesn’t matter. Do I get the job or not?”

Carter shook his head, his eyes troubled. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t smell right here.”

Drey shrugged, gazing at him coolly. “You’ve known me for a long time. Do you trust me or don’t you?”

Carter shook his head and, finally, he grinned reluctantly. “Hell, I trusted you with my wife, didn’t I? I guess I can trust you with Sara Parker.”

“Good,” Drey said, nodding slowly, his gaze already on a distant scene. “Good.”

Drey vaulted out of his four-wheel drive, all-terrain vehicle and reached for his tool belt, then gazed at Sara Parker’s gabled and turreted house with a healthy dose of skepticism. What kind of woman would live in a place like this? She either had to be an imprisoned princess or the wicked witch of the north. There weren’t many other options.

Making his way up the walk, he glanced up and down the street. The area houses were large and distinctive, the yards professionally trimmed and sculpted. The neighborhood reeked of money.

It was late afternoon and the breeze had turned frosty. He knew he wouldn’t get much work done today, but he could take measurements and scope the situation out. He figured on being here for the rest of the week if things worked out the way he’d planned.

A bouquet of spring flowers sat in a cheap glass vase on the doorstep. He glanced down at it, then rang the bell. There was no answer, and he reached down to pick up the flowers and look at the card.

“Sara, darling, so sorry, but I’m not going to be able to make it to your baby shower. Hope these flowers will make it up to you. Kiss kiss, love Sylvia.”

“Baby shower,” he repeated softly out loud. That would seem to confirm what he’d heard. Sara Parker was adopting Jenny Kirkland’s baby.

The sound of tires on the driveway brought his head around and he watched as the expensive silver sedan pulled to a stop and a tall, blond woman swung her long legs out, then rose to look at him.

He stood where he was, not moving, and she pushed the car door shut, then came walking toward him. She was dressed in a powder pink cashmere suit and soft leather shoes with trendy heels. Her blond hair was pulled back in an elegant twist at the nape of her neck. Gold bracelets flashed at her wrists, gold and diamonds sparkled on her fingers, and her nails were painted a perfect match to the suit.

In fact, everything about her seemed just about perfect. The only thing missing, he thought as she came close enough to see into her crystal blue eyes, was passion. There was no passion, no anger, no joy, no fear visible in her face. She might have been cut from ice. She was an ice lady, very cool, very calm, and very much in control.

And very confident. Some women might have hesitated upon seeing a man who looked like him standing on their front step. He knew his long hair and jeans and buckskin jacket looked out of place here in this part of town. A lot of people gave him a second look because of it, but he didn’t care. He considered his look consistent with the history of Denver. Jenny used to tell him he looked like a nineteenth-century miner, only cleaner and healthier.

“Wild and woolly,” she would say, laughing at him.

But his wild look didn’t seem to bother Ms. Parker. She came up to him like the home owner she was, sure of herself and of whose property they were standing on.

“I’ll take those,” she said calmly, reaching out her hand for the flowers. “If you’ll wait just a moment, I’ll give you something.”

So that was it. She thought he was there to bring her flowers.

“I’m not a delivery boy,” he told her, handing the arrangement over as though the posies had suddenly developed thorns. “They were on your doorstep when I got here.”

“Oh.” She glanced at him, wondering why he hadn’t left them there, and he saw the question in her eyes, but he ignored it.

“I’m from Carter Construction,” he said quickly. “I’m here to do some carpentry work you needed.”

“Oh.” She actually smiled and it lit her face. “Thank goodness. We’ve got a lot of work to get done in a short time. Please come in.”

Their eyes met for just an instant and they both pulled back, as though a spark of static electricity had sprung between them. He almost thought that must have been it. The air was dry and it was cold. Perfect weather for static electricity.

He followed her into the house, his boots marking time on the marble entryway, then waited while she put her things away in the kitchen. From where he stood, he could see into the living room with its glassand-wood furniture, its overstuffed couch and granite fireplace, into the den where glass-faced bookcases filled with volumes lined the walls, and into the kitchen where the lady was putting her purse under the counter and checking her answering machine.

He frowned. The place was all angles and hard surfaces. If she thought she was going to adopt a baby, she was going to have to do something about that. This was not a baby-proof environment. He was going to have to find an opportunity to point that out to her.

“I didn’t get your name,” she noted as she returned to him.

“Drey Angeli,” he said, glancing down at the small, slim hand she held out before taking it in his own. Her grip was firm but her hand felt as soft and elegant as it looked.

“I guess you know I’m Sara Parker,” she said. “I’m so glad you’ve come so promptly.”

He raised one eyebrow, wondering why she was treating him like his sixth-grade schoolteacher, the one who always corrected his grammar and held him after school for being a smart aleck. Instinctively he knew she did it on purpose. But what that purpose was, he couldn’t imagine.

“Follow me,” she said crisply, turning to lead him through the foyer. “I’ll show you where I’m going to need the work done.”

He followed her, noting the way her every movement seemed to be according to some careful plan. Her step was quick and light and very determined, and when she started up the stairs in front of him, he couldn’t keep from watching the nice way her bottom swayed in the pink cashmere skirt, and something about that experience made him study her face when she reached the top and turned to wait for him.

His first impression had been of her coldness, but now that he gave her a second look, he realized she was quite pretty. Her features were small and fine as porcelain, her skin smooth, her eyes a brilliant, starburst blue set off by thick black lashes. He had the sudden picture of a ballerina in his mind, an oldfashioned dancer mincing in toe shoes with her arms raised in position.

“This way,” she told him, turning and leading him into a room off the hallway.

He followed her, only half listening while she detailed the new closet space she wanted in the guest bedroom. He was studying the room for evidence. Just what sort of woman was Sara Parker?

She was certainly a contrast to her sister, but then, he’d already known that, hadn’t he? Jenny had told him so.

“She’s not like the rest of our family,” Jenny had told him one night over drinks at a lodge at the lake. “When we were kids, we called her Stuck-up Sara. Do you know she actually packaged her dolls in plastic wrap and buried them in the backyard so the rest of us wouldn’t play with them?”

Drey remembered gazing at Jenny that evening, bemused, wondering why her voice was trembling with annoyance so many years later.

“And when we were teenagers, forget it. She kept her side of the room roped off so I wouldn’t touch her things, and she taped hairs to her dresser drawers so she could tell when I went through them.” Jenny’s pretty heart-shaped face flushed. “We didn’t get along.”

No, he could see that Jenny would have a hard time getting along with this exquisite creature. Jenny was casual about clothes, plans, men. She was open and generous and free spirited—but she was also careless and petulant at times. Sara Parker didn’t seem to be any of the above.

Everything about her was careful; everything matched, from her fingernail polish to her creamy lipstick to the pink cloisonné comb that held her silver blond hair in place.

She cares too much, he thought to himself. Wasn’t that a sign of some sort of neurosis?

“Now down here,” she said, leading him to another room down the hall. “Here is the nursery. I’m going to need new shelves and a set of waist-high cabinets. I’d like to install a changing table here, as well.”

He nodded. “Do you have any children?” he asked, wondering if Jenny’s baby was going to be an only child.

“Not yet.” She actually smiled. “But I’m about to have a baby.”

“Really?” He knew she was expecting him to glance at her flat stomach in surprise, so he did. “Not anytime soon.”

“Yes. Very soon. Sometime in the next two weeks, in fact.” She laughed softly and her starry eyes seemed to melt into pools of silver. “I’m adopting.”

He waited a moment but she didn’t say it. He knew she was adopting her sister’s baby. Why not mention that? Why not talk about the fact that this was Jenny’s baby? Or was that some sort of secret she was keeping?

But she didn’t mention it. Instead, she gave him a smile that startled him. “You don’t know how much I appreciate you showing up,” she said. “You’re the only one. I’ve called an electrician, a landscaper and a pool maintenance man and you’re the only one who came when you said you would.”

He frowned, a defense against the smile. He didn’t want to like her.

“You’ve filled your pool already?” he noted, looking out the window at the forest behind the house. “Isn’t it a bit early?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She turned slowly, looking the room over as if to make sure she wasn’t forgetting to tell him anything about the job. “The weather has been so warm. And I need it filled. It looks so much better that way and I’m having a party next week. A baby shower. I need everything to look perfect.”

Perfect. Yeah, that was what she wanted. It showed.

“I’ll bet you ten to one we get another snowstorm before the season’s over,” he said, trying to burst her bubble.

But she was having none of it. Shaking her head, she smiled at him again. “No, absolutely not. No snowstorm. Spring is here.”

She walked over to her window and gestured out into her backyard where birds were chirping in the trees. “Look at all those birds. Would they be here if snow was coming?”

He followed her, then stood by her side, looking down. There were birds all right. Flocks of them. “You think birds have an inside track on the weather?” he grumbled.

“No, not really.” She frowned, considering, and he noticed her delicate eyebrows. She didn’t pluck them. She didn’t have to. They were perfect.

“But are you trying to tell me there’s no order in the universe?” she asked him, sighing softly. “That it’s all anarchy?” Her eyes clouded.

He felt a twinge of remorse. It was pretty obvious she needed order to feel secure. There was no reason to be so churlish, he supposed. She hadn’t done anything to him. Not yet, anyway.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he admitted gruffly. “But I don’t think birds know all that much more than we do about it.”

She was still staring at him as though she were hoping to find some kind of answer in his eyes, and he moved uncomfortably, trying to avoid her gaze but unable to look away himself.

“They have instincts,” she said as though she’d just thought of it.

He shrugged. Why did this seem to be so important to her? “So do we,” he muttered, tearing his gaze away and scowling out the window.

She laughed softly, turning away, as well. “You’re right I’m sorry. I get carried away with these things sometimes.”

Afraid that she’d embarrassed him by getting a little too familiar, she glanced back. He was still frowning. His face, the set of his shoulders, everything said don’t tread on me, and she suppressed a smile. He was a good-looking man in his way, though she hadn’t noticed at first. Probably because of the long hair. But he was certainly a strong-looking man, his hands square and chiseled, his shoulders wide and western. He could have been a cowboy riding into Denver a hundred years ago, or a miner coming in off the high country with a sack of gold in his belt.

A throwback, she thought to herself. In this hightech age you didn’t see many like him any longer.

“Never mind,” she said quickly, hoping to put him at ease. “I’ll get going.”

She headed for the door, her handmade leather shoes sinking into the plush carpeting. “I’ll leave you to your measuring and your plans. Please let me see what you’ve worked out when you’re finished. I’ll be downstairs.”

“Sure will,” he said, watching her go, but she didn’t turn or smile or anything. She just kept going, and then she was gone.

He swore softly to himself. He hadn’t figured her out yet and he’d thought it was going to be easy. From what Jenny had told him, he’d expected to find a cold fish with rigid views, a sort of wicked witch of the Rockies. He’d been prepared to despise her. Obviously the judgment wasn’t that simple. Still, there was time. There was plenty of time. From what he’d been able to find out, Jenny’s baby wasn’t due for another week or so. He would have to make a decision by then.

Meanwhile, he had some woodworking to do.

Two

Sara glanced upstairs. She could hear the carpenter moving something in the baby’s room and she hesitated, tempted to run up and see what was going on. But she thought better of it. Let him finish his work. She had things of her own to accomplish.

The baby shower was only a little over a week away and the planning was as meticulous as though she were leading an army into battle. She’d made lists and set timers and ordered things, but the work was never ending. At the moment, she’d changed into slacks and a sweater and she was checking items off the latest list.

“Windows. The window washer came this morning. That’s done. The chimney sweep came last Saturday. The gardener still needs to put in the pansies and petunias. The painter says he’s coming tomorrow to touch up the trim on the house.”

There were still so many things to fix or clean or renovate before next week. One thing was that darn pool. She’d had the gardener take the cover off for her, and the pool man had said he would be here by noon. That was five hours ago. He obviously wasn’t coming.

Glancing out at it, she frowned. The gardener had gone home and there was the pool, starting to collect leaves on its surface. She couldn’t just leave the cover there. It looked so ugly. Besides, there was a breeze and she was afraid things would blow into the pool during the night. Better to get it covered again.

She looked toward the stairs, knowing she could get the carpenter to come help her with the cover. But he was busy, and the cover was a simple affair. She should be able to do it herself.

Armed with all her self-confidence, she marched out through her sliding glass doors and onto the pool deck. The air was brisk on her skin and she rubbed her arms, wishing she’d put on a jacket. But this should be quick. The cover was made of plastic bubble sheeting and it was actually quite light. Grasping one edge, she began to pull it over the pool water.

It went easily at first, sliding along so well she looked back, pleased. But just as she did, the cover caught on the stair railing and gave a sudden snap of resistance, throwing her off balance. With a cry, she took a bad step and the next thing she knew, she was falling into the water.

The water was cold, so cold it might have been just one level below ice. It seemed to crash around her like a wave in the ocean, hard and awful, stunning her, knocking her breath away. She tried to cry out again, but her mouth was full of water, and her eyes were full of water, and the cover seemed to be looming up above her, over the water, and she seemed to be closing her eyes.

But only for a second or two. Suddenly, strong hands were gripping her arms and she was shooting back up through the icy water, up into what was left of the sunshine.

She gasped for air, her system in cold shock, hardly realizing that Drey had pulled her up into his arms and was striding quickly into the house, with water spilling off her in every direction.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Oh, that was so cold!”

“Hang on,” he said as he carried her up the stairs. “We’ll get you warm again.”

The next thing she knew, she was in her spacious bathroom and he was turning on the water for the shower in the bathtub. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but her teeth were chattering so hard she couldn’t get the words out. Her clothes hung on her like sodden armor, heavy and cold. Drey turned from the bathtub and began to remove them.

“No!” she cried, or tried to, but he didn’t listen.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said bluntly, taking a grip on her sweater and beginning to tug it up over her head the way he might have done with a child. “You’ve got to get warm and you’ve got to do it now.”

She knew he was right, and in the state she was in at the moment, she wasn’t sure she was capable of taking care of this on her own. So she bit back her protests and closed her eyes.

He stripped her quickly, dropping the wet clothes to the floor, and turned to test the water coming out of the shower nozzle, then led her into the enclosure, helping her over the side of the tub.

“Stand under the water until you get enough in the tub to sit in,” he ordered her. “Then sit. You’ve got to soak warmth back into your body.”

The warm water stung at first. She gasped again, turning under it, hardly feeling modest about the fact that she was standing there naked in front of this stranger. The cold was more important than her dignity right now. Besides, there was nothing in his eyes that even hinted at a sensual response of any kind. He was as grim faced as a medical worker at the scene of the accident, no emotion in sight. As that realization hit her, she wasn’t sure if she was grateful or insulted. As he turned to leave the room, she looked after him.

“Where are you going?” she asked, almost anxious. After all, he’d saved her, hadn’t he?

“Who’s your doctor?” he asked, turning at the doorway. “I’ll call him.”

“No,” she said quickly. “No, don’t call a doctor. I’m fine. Really.”

And she was beginning to feel like herself again, enough so that she pulled the glass door of the shower almost closed as a shield to hide behind. For the first time, she looked at him and really saw him.

“You’re soaking wet,” she cried, looking at his dripping clothes. “Did you actually jump in after me?”

He shook his head and gave her a faint lopsided grin. “No, you really hadn’t gone that far under. I reached down and pulled you up out of the water from the side.”

“But you’re so wet.”

He looked down and confirmed her diagnosis. “That was all water you brought up with you,” he said cheerfully. “I guess I ought to get into some dry clothes, though. Could I borrow something of your husband’s?”

“My husband’s?” She gazed at him blankly.

“Your husband’s. I thought you had one of those.”

“Oh. Of course I do.” She laughed shortly. “Yes, just go down the hall to the bedroom on your right, next to the baby’s room. There’s a closet in there that should be full of stuff.”

He disappeared and she shivered, getting back under the spray, letting the delightful warmth spread throughout her body. And then she choked back a surge of hysteria. Good grief! She’d fallen into the pool and this incredibly handsome man had pulled her out and stripped her naked! Nothing quite this exciting had ever happened to her before and she was acting as though it were routine. And now he was going to be dressing in her husband’s clothes. Her husband. What a laugh. It had been a while since she’d actually had one. But that was something no one else was to know about.

Craig had made a wonderful husband, at least in theory. Tall, handsome, distinguished looking, with credentials from the finest schools and most exclusive business firms, everyone had said they made a perfect couple when they got married.

Everyone, of course, didn’t know what went on behind closed doors, which wasn’t much as it turned out. But they had gotten along just fine for a few years. They were still good friends.

Though they had had their marriage annulled over a year ago, they hadn’t told anyone. No one knew. Craig had agreed to that when Sara had asked for the favor. He knew her well enough to know how hard it would be for her to admit defeat to the world. And it meant nothing to him, really. Sometimes it was convenient to have a wife hanging around in the background.

He was in China on business at the moment, but he’d agreed to come home for the baby shower, to stand around and be her husband one more time, and she was grateful to him for that. This baby shower was going to be her showcase, her way of presenting herself and her life to all her old friends. She wanted everything to be just right, and that meant she really had to have a husband. Otherwise, it just wouldn’t feel right.

Life had been too muddled lately. She needed a return to clarity. Having Craig here when she celebrated adopting the baby would help do that. Things would be back to normal. Almost.

Drey found the room and the closet, but the clothes weren’t his style. He hesitated, then chose a polo shirt that was a size too small. His jeans were damp, but they would have to do. He couldn’t see himself in the plaid slacks he found hanging among Sara’s husband’s things.

Walking out into the hallway, he listened. The water was still running. He turned toward the stairs and made his way down, searching until he found the den. Pulling out drawers in the desk, he uncovered an address book and quickly paged through it, calling the first doctor’s name he could find there.

“Tell the doctor it’s Sara Parker,” he told the nurse who answered. “She’s fallen into icy water and I think a doctor should take a look to make sure she’s okay.”

“Sara Parker?” The nurse sounded concerned. “Is this Mr. Parker?”

Drey caught back a smile. “No, it’s not,” he said, leaving the rest to the woman’s imagination.

“I’m sure Dr. Bracken will want to stop by on his way home. Mrs. Parker is a close friend. He’s leaving shortly and since he lives just a block away from Mrs. Parker…”

So that was settled. Drey hung up the telephone and sat for a moment, staring at the glass-enclosed bookshelves. Nice work. Everything in this house was firstclass.

Even, he thought with a sudden grin, the woman.

She’d looked good in the pink cashmere suit and she’d looked even better without it. For a split second he allowed himself to think of her chilled skin, her long, molded legs, her round breasts, their nipples pulled into tight, dark buttons that made him…

No, he wasn’t going to think that way. Quickly and resolutely, he shoved the picture of Sara’s lovely naked body out of his mind. It wasn’t fair to her to think about it and he wasn’t going to do it.

Rising, he paced the room for a moment. What now? Every instinct in him told him to get out while the getting was good, to get as far away from this house and this woman as he could. But he hadn’t completed the task he’d come for yet. His whole purpose in being here was to find out more about Sara Parker, to see what made her tick, to see what kind of a mother she was going to make for Jenny’s baby. He was a long way from being able to make that sort of judgment. He couldn’t leave for good until that determination was made.

Sara came down the stairs with a firm step. Her hair clung damply to her neck and there was still some part of her, deep inside, that was shaken by the accident. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She had to find her helpful carpenter and face him right away, before the memory of what had just occurred, what he’d just done for her, started to eat into her self-confidence.

It took her breath away when she thought about it. There she’d been, stark naked in front of a strange and rather attractive man. What if he’d…?

Well, it didn’t help to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t turned out to be a decent guy. Which he seemed to be. She was just lucky he’d been around to pull her out of the pool. Her nakedness was inconsequential compared to that.

But if she didn’t find him, didn’t talk about what had happened, laugh about it, she knew it would stay there inside her, like a worm in an apple and she couldn’t let that happen.

She found him pacing the floor of her den and favored him with a bright smile meant to wipe away any nagging memories he might have of her unprotected body parts. “I want to thank you for what you did,” she said, reaching out to take his hand in hers and gazing up at him earnestly.

He looked uncomfortable. “There’s nothing to thank me for,” he said gruffly.

There. She could see it in his eyes, in the set of his mouth. He was thinking about her naked. This was impossible, and if she didn’t stop thinking about it herself, she was going to blush. She never blushed. She refused to blush. She had to get his mind on other things.

She hoped her laugh didn’t sound as forced to his ears as it did to her own. “Are you kidding?” she said gaily. “You may have saved my life.”

He looked startled to have her say such a thing. “I didn’t save your life. You would have jumped out on your own in a few seconds.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” she told him. “Feel this.”

She tossed her hair back and leaned her head to the side, guiding his hand to the area of her scalp where a huge goose egg was throbbing. It was strange to be inviting a perfect stranger to feel her head, but this was a strange situation, and be had probably saved her. That in itself was a fairly intimate act, wasn’t it? And intimate acts tended to form bonds. Consider one formed, she told herself soothingly. This man is now a close personal friend.

“Ouch,” he said, wincing for her as his fingers found the injury. “You hit your head, all right. You don’t remember doing it?”

She shrugged. “I guess I missed it. There was a lot going on at the time.” She shook her hair back and a slight frown formed between her brows. “I did feel like I was passing out at one point, though,” she reflected.

He nodded, watching the way her hair fell into place in crisp waves. Damp like this, it still looked blond. Interesting. He supposed that meant it wasn’t dyed but naturally light. The color of her eyebrows confirmed it. They were silky and light as the down on a peach.

She’d put on another sweater, this one a fuzzy soft baby blue. He glanced down. Sure enough, she’d put on baby blue socks to match. Concussion or not, she wasn’t going to get sloppy. Maybe he was getting to know all about her after all.

“That’s a nasty bump you’ve got,” he told her with a direct look. “It’s a good thing the doctor is on his way.”

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t wanted that. “What? You called the doctor?”

“Yes, I did.”

She stared at him, resentful of his high-handed attitude. This carpenter she’d hired didn’t seem to remember who the boss was. “I told you not to,” she reminded him.

“Sorry about that.” His dark eyes were coolly unrepentant and he went on, telling her the truth. “I very seldom do what I’m told.”

She wasn’t sure if she was angry or just amused. “What are you,” she asked him bluntly. “Some sort of control freak?”

His mouth twisted into something that could almost be called a smile. “I like to call it being forceful and farsighted.”

She was about to tell him what she called it when the doorbell chimed and she turned instead. “Oh drat, that will be the doctor.”

“I’ll get it,” he said, starting for the door. “You sit down on the couch.”

Outrage stiffened her back. It was pretty obvious this man was ready to take over everything if she let him. Cutting him off at the pass with an end run around the counter, she stood in his way, eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me,” she said icily. “I believe this is my house. I’ll get the door, thank you just the same.”

He shrugged, unconcerned, looking down at her without rancor. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

What was he trying to say, that he’d only been looking out for her welfare? She threw him a skeptical look and didn’t bother to answer, striding quickly into the foyer with Drey right behind her.

She opened the door to find Dr. Bracken looking in anxiously, his huge gray eyes doleful as usual.

“Sara, my dear,” he said, coming forward and taking her hand. “What happened?”

She smiled and glanced at Drey. “Nothing much, Matthew. I fell into the pool.”

His kindly face registered extreme shock and alarm. “Oh, my God.”

“No, don’t get excited. There was water in it. Very cold water. And I bumped my head, which left a lump but not much else.” She gave Drey a defiant look. “I didn’t want you bothered with this. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Well, that’s to be determined, isn’t it?” Dr. Bracken bustled in, shaking his head. “Come, my dear, you must sit down,” he urged, leading her to a seat on a damask-covered chair in the parlor. “Let me take a look at you.”

She did as he told her, displaying her goose egg bump one more time and submitting to the tiny light he shone into her eyes and to a reading of her heart rate. Matthew Bracken had been a friend and golfing partner of her ex-husband’s ever since they’d moved to Denver three years before. Though she’d never taken him up on offers to get closer to his wife, she did like him.

“Craig still in China?” he asked as he studied her eyes.

“Yes,” Sara replied.

“You know, I suddenly realized as I was driving over here that I haven’t seen him for over a year. He and I used to get together for a game of golf about once a month, weather permitting, but it has been since the fall before last that we’ve played, How does the time getaway from you like that?”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Sara said evasively. “Maybe you can get him to play when he’s here next week. We’re having a lot of old friends from out of town to a baby shower and he promised to help me with it.”

The doctor drew back and stared at her doubtfully. “So you’re going through with this adoption scheme of yours?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes, definitely.”

He shook his head as though he didn’t approve at all. “I don’t know, Sara. I guess I said my piece when you called me a few months ago and asked my advice. I say there’s no earthly reason you and Craig can’t have a child of your own. You’re both healthy and young enough. I’ve helped other couples, you know. There are ways. You never came in to see about—”

“Believe me, Matthew, we explored all the possibilities,” she said hastily, glancing at Drey and hoping to stop the flow of the doctor’s chatter. “We both decided. This is the best way. It’s right for us.”

“Well, that’s neither here nor there,” he muttered to himself as he began to put away his instruments. “You’ll have to do what you think is right. But you’ll need someone to watch you tonight. Better call in one of your friends.”

Sara looked up at him, startled. “Why?”

He glanced at Drey. “Because I don’t like the look of that knot on your head, and I’m not too sure about that pulse rate. It’s up. I just want you watched, that’s all. You might have a concussion.” He hesitated. “Is there someone you can call? Someone who would come and stay with you?”

Sara shook her head slowly. She didn’t even have to think it over. “There’s no one. Matthew, you know I haven’t made many women friends here in Denver. I’ve been too busy setting up the business.”

“Oh, come now. There must be someone. Women always have friends all over the place.”

Sara shook her head, dismissing the entire issue. She didn’t want to bother Jenny, who had trouble getting around at this stage in her pregnancy. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

The doctor frowned down at her. “But I do worry about you, Sara. Tell you what. I’ll send Peggy, my wife, over. She’d be glad to—”

“No.” Sara’s voice had a note of final command. Having the sweet but talkative Peggy in her hair would drive her nuts. “I couldn’t do that to your wife. Absolutely not.”

“Now, Sara. Be reasonable. If not Peggy, there must be someone—”

“There’s me.”

They both turned and stared at Drey. Up to now, he’d been quietly standing in the background. The doctor had acknowledged his existence with a slight nod when he’d first come in, but other than that, he might as well have been invisible. And now he was offering to stay.

Sara was speechless. This was the carpenter who’d come to put up some shelves. It was all very well that he’d pulled her out of a freezing pool, but that was no reason he should move in with her. The man had shown his high-handed attitude a few moments before. He had some nerve. But before she could bring those considerations to light, the doctor spoke.

“Drey Angeli, isn’t it?” Dr. Bracken said, squinting at him. “You were a friend of my daughter Terry’s, weren’t you?”

Drey nodded. “That was a long time ago,” he noted. “Way back in high school.”

“Ah yes. High school.” The doctor gave a crunching laugh that shook his sturdy frame. “Terry was a wild one in those days. She’s settled down now, you know. Got herself a degree in psychology and she’s giving tests to employees at one of the mining companies. Lives in Aspen. Skis her heart out.”

Drey’s stern demeanor softened into a slight smile. “Great. She always did love the snow.”

“That she did.” The doctor studied Drey for a moment, taking in his untamed hair and casual appearance, then glanced at Sara, his forehead scrunched in a puzzled look. Suddenly his eyebrows rose as though he’d realized something, and he cleared his throat.

“Well. Well now, okay, Sara. Drey is going to keep his eye on you. That ought to do the trick. I guess I’ll stop by tomorrow and see how you’re doing.”

He started toward the foyer and Sara didn’t budge. She sat right where she was, watching him go and wondering why she wasn’t saying anything, why she wasn’t telling him Drey was not a friend, or whatever it was he assumed Drey was, that he was here to do a job and was not going to be staying. She knew she should tell him, that the situation cried out for her to say the words. But she also knew, if she told him that, it would start an argument. He would have Peggy over here in a flash. She decided to leave well enough alone and let him think what he wanted to think.

Drey noted Sara’s reaction with amusement and took over, walking Dr. Bracken to the door and opening it for him. The doctor turned and nodded at him companionably, man to man.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here,” he said, leaning close. “And I don’t ask questions. I do know Craig isn’t the most attentive husband a woman could have. Still, people’s lives are their own affairs. So to speak.” He gave a quick cough of laughter. “But you treat that lady gently. She deserves it. And keep a look out for signs of seizure. You sometimes get that with a bad head trauma. You give me a call if anything worrisome shows up.”

Drey nodded, leashing his smile. He didn’t want to appear to take the doctor’s words lightly. “I’ll do that, sir. You can count on me.”

“Good.” He shook hands with the younger man. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Drey watched him go, still suppressing a grin. The man thought he and Sara were lovers, and Sara had done nothing to disabuse him of that notion. Funny. He had no idea why she would let that theory fly, but he didn’t much care, either. She had her own reasons, no doubt.

In the meantime, this was really a lucky break. It had fallen right into his lap. He was going to get an opportunity to see what Sara Parker was really like. And that was the whole reason he’d come.

Three

Drey retraced his steps into the parlor, but Sara was no longer sitting in the chair. Following the sounds of cabinets being opened, he found her in the kitchen, putting away clean dishes from the dishwasher. She barely glanced up at him as he entered the room.

“That’s all a bunch of nonsense, of course,” she said quickly. “I’m perfectly all right. You don’t have to stay.”

He slid onto a bar stool and leaned on the counter, watching her move. She had a glide to her movements, a grace that appealed to him. The image of her as a ballet dancer came to him again. She seemed to give the impression of being on her toes, even when her feet were flat on the ground.

“That’s okay,” he said smoothly. “I have nothing better to do.”

Putting down the large pot she’d just pulled out of the washer, she turned to face him.

“Look,” she said, her gaze frank and open. “I don’t need you here. In fact, I really don’t want you here. I have things to do and I want to be alone. When you come back in the morning—”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to stay,” he told her, breaking in with a certain arrogance. “I can’t leave you alone after what happened.”

She stared at him, trying to read what was going on in the depths of his smoky eyes. What exactly did he mean by that? What did he think had happened? Just because she’d fallen in the pool didn’t mean she needed to be watched at all times. She wasn’t likely to take a tumble into the hedgerow if he wasn’t there to stop her.

Or was he talking about the nakedness? Did he think being with her in that state gave him some special right to her? If so, he might as well think again.

“I’m going to be perfectly frank with you here,” she said at last. “You have done me a nice turn by saving my life, but when you come right down to it, I only met you today. I hardly know you. Why in the world would I let you stay overnight in my house?”

“Doctor’s orders,” he said as though that were his trump card.

She threw up her hands. “Oh, please. You know very well he assumed we were, well, something more than employer and employee.”

“Yes, I know that.” The grin he’d been hiding was finally getting too strong to hold back any longer and it shone in his dark eyes. “And you didn’t do anything to correct that impression. Why not?”

She started to speak and then choked for a moment, color flooding her cheeks. Why not? That was a very good question. It was more than just not wanting Peggy as a roommate and she knew it. She just wasn’t sure why.

“I…don’t know,” she said defensively. “The whole thing just caught me off guard.”

That wasn’t it and he knew it, too. He watched her, still wondering.

“The good doctor assured me he wasn’t making judgments, but I would think you’d better correct the record at some point. Your husband might not be so understanding.”

Her face seemed to change when he mentioned her husband, as though a cloud had come over her thoughts. “Never mind that,” she said crisply. “I’ll handle my reputation. In the meantime, the best way you can disprove the rumors would be to go. Right now.”

She said it as though she expected him to jump up and run for the door, but he didn’t move a muscle. Instead, he leaned back and looked at her through narrowed eyes.

“Well, this is your house,” he said slowly, “and it is up to you. I’ll go if you really want me to. But someone has to be here.” A devilish light glittered in his eyes. “I can’t in all conscience leave you without anyone. I’ll have to call Dr. Bracken and let him know you’re alone.” He held back his amusement a moment longer. “I suppose he’ll send his wife Peggy over and—”

She threw back her head, groaning and half laughing at the same time. “So, you play dirty, do you?” she accused him.

His grin was slow and his eyes were knowing, as though he could read her mind and knew he was going to be one step ahead of her. “If I have to.”

“Well, I can play dirty, too,” she declared, but when she tossed her head to emphasize her defiance, she set off a flash of pain that shot through her skull and the room swam before her. “Ouch,” she said, closing her eyes and swaying against the counter.

Drey reacted without hesitation. “That does it,” he said as he came down off the bar stool and stepped around the counter and took hold of her. “Come on. You’re going to go lie down.”

“No,” she protested weakly. “No, I can’t.”

He swung her up into his arms without waiting to hear the rest of her speech and started for the stairs.

“I don’t believe this,” she murmured resentfully. “You can’t just carry me around. I’m not a little girl.”

“You’re right,” he said, taking the stairs easily. “You’re a big, obstinate woman.”

She wanted to fuss at him some more, but the pain in her head was disconcerting and her cheek felt so comfortable against his shoulder, she stayed quiet instead, closing her eyes and letting him take over. There was certainly an advantage in having a big strong man around. She felt protected and secure and that was nice—and so unusual for her.

When he gently laid her down on her bed, she almost regretted having to leave the warmth of his arms.

But he didn’t seem to regret letting go. He backed away unceremoniously and glanced around the room.

“Do you have a radio in here?” he asked.

She looked up at him in surprise, shading her eyes from the light with her hand. “Yes. That’s a clock radio on the bedside table.”

“Good.” He flicked it on and searched the stations until he found someone talking instead of music. “Listen to this,” he advised. “Rest. You can even cover your eyes. But don’t let yourself fall asleep.”

“Okay,” she said dutifully, feeling limp. “What are you going to be doing?”

“I’m going to fix us something to eat.”

“You?” He didn’t look like the sort of man who could be found adding basil to the vinaigrette, or even donning an apron and wielding a barbecue fork at the old gas grill. “You don’t cook,” she informed him skeptically.

“Don’t I?” He favored her with a lopsided grin. “You just wait and see.”

He left the room and she closed her eyes for a moment, resting her head, ignoring the voice on the radio and trying to think. She was actually very glad she was lying down, very glad Drey had taken over the way he had. He was right, and so was the doctor. She needed someone. The accident with the pool seemed to have sapped all her strength and had left her very shaken. She was grateful Drey wanted to stay. She would use this time to rest—and to think.

She’d been avoiding doing much thinking over the past few weeks. She’d been busy tying up the loose ends at her import company, fixing things so that she could take time off and get to know the new baby once it came. And she’d been frantically preparing for this baby shower she was having next week. All in all, thinking had been relegated to the sidelines. It was probably time to let it back into the game, at least for a few minutes.

It was odd how twisted her life had become lately. She’d had everything under control once. If she didn’t watch out, things would fall apart and she would end up back where she’d been.

Her eyes popped open. Back where she’d been. Keeping away from that place was the driving force behind everything she did. She’d had a chaotic childhood. She would do everything she could to make sure she never went back there again.

On the outside, her life had probably looked idyllic. Her parents had plenty of money. What they didn’t have was love, or any sense of what went into making a family. She still cringed remembering the late-night fights with people shrieking and racing through the house throwing things, her mother’s boozy mornings, her father’s affairs. As a little girl, she had hidden away from the pandemonium. She had a secret place in her closet with a little lamp and her special books, and she would go there and hide, making up a private world that the rest of her family knew nothing about. As an adult, she’d made that secret place her reality as much as she possibly could and for many years it seemed to work for her.

But little by little, things had begun to fall apart. First her marriage had become a sham, then it had evaporated completely. She’d tried hard to make it work and had built her business to take its place, but things just hadn’t come together the way she needed them to. Then Jenny had told her about the pregnancy and she’d decided to adopt Jenny’s baby. She knew she was taking a risk, but it was something she had to do. And she had to do it right.

“I’m in control,” she muttered to herself. “Everything’s going to be perfect.”

Everything was going to be perfect. After all, she’d tamed the turmoil once before. She would do it again. All you needed was a strong mind and you could set up your own reality. That was what it was all about.

But her reality was a little cockeyed at the moment. It would need some shoring up. First, instead of the perfect and ideal family she’d always thought she would have, she was about to be the single mother of her sister’s child.

If that wasn’t bizarre enough, she’d fallen into her pool and been rescued by her carpenter, who had stripped her naked without a second thought and was now downstairs fixing dinner.

Odd. Very odd. She was going to have to work to get things back on an even keel. And adopting Jenny’s baby was going to be the first step, actually. It was a step she’d been working up to, a step she wanted very badly to take. If she couldn’t have the perfect marriage, at least she would have the perfect baby.

When he left Sara in her bedroom, Drey started for the kitchen, but in the upper hallway he hesitated and instead turned toward the room where he’d found her husband’s clothes. Something was nagging at him, something he hadn’t been able to fit into the puzzle that was Sara.

Sara had told Dr. Bracken her husband was still on a trip to China, and the doctor seemed to accept that. There was really no reason Drey should question it. And, yet, something wasn’t right.

He turned into the bedroom and looked at the neatly made bed, the dresser with its picture of Sara and its neatly placed, silver-backed brush-and-comb set. There was a static quality to the room, as though it were a set for a play, not a place where real people lived. He wasn’t sure why, but something felt wrong.

“In the first place, what kind of a husband sleeps in a separate room?” he muttered to himself, about to open the closet. A quick mental image of Sara’s sleek, naked body flashed into his mind and he bit down hard on his lip to force it away. He wasn’t going to let himself think of her as a desirable woman, no matter how good she looked with her clothes off. That wasn’t what he was here for.

But it did bring up the question—how could a man who loved her stay away?

Each to his own way of living. Wasn’t that the sort of toleration everyone was supposed to practice these days?

Sure, but not where a baby was involved. He’d made a commitment to make sure Jenny’s baby was going to a good home. So far, he wasn’t sure that was what he would call this one.

He turned to the closet and pulled it open, still searching for the element that had bothered him when he’d been here before. Rows of suits hung side by side with polo shirts and winter jackets. He stared at them and the answer came to him. These things hadn’t been touched in months, possibly years. The suits were out of style. The jackets looked like castoffs. And the entire collection had the odd, musty smell of fabric in storage. If Sara’s husband ever came home, he didn’t come here.

Drey closed the closet door and turned slowly, heading for the kitchen once again. He’d learned long ago that things were seldom as they seemed on the surface, but this was extreme. Where was Sara’s husband? Or did she even have one?

It was not merely an interesting question. It was something he had to know.

* * *

“Hey, no sleeping.”

Sara opened her eyes. She had drifted off for just a moment, but she was awake now, and there Drey was, looking down at her. She frowned.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked him.

“To keep you awake. I’m just checking on you. It’s not good for someone with a possible concussion to go to sleep right away.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” She turned and punched the pillow up, then half sat against it. “Why are you helping me this way?”

“I have nothing better to do,” he claimed, but there was a veiled look in his eyes and she didn’t believe him.

There was another reason. She was not so naive as to think he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart.

Should she be frightened of him? She asked herself that as he left the room again, going down to finish cooking. He was a stranger and he was staying the night. Was she crazy to let him? Was she nuts?

Probably. But she knew the man he worked for. And Matthew Bracken said he’d been friends with his daughter in high school. That made him about five years younger than she was, but it also made him someone people in her circle knew. Was all this enough to guarantee he was a good guy?

She still didn’t have her answers, but she resigned herself to being taken care of. It felt so darn good. No one had taken care of her this way since…She thought hard, but she couldn’t remember when anyone else had done it. From the time she was a child she’d always been taking care of other people, trying to make everything work and holding it all together.

That was what was wrong. Things weren’t holding together anymore. Everything seemed to be flying apart. But she didn’t want to think about that.

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