Who's The Father Of Jenny's Baby?. Donna Clayton
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cheeks were warm and rosy, a leftover reaction to his touch, she knew. His brow wrinkled with a frown as he noticed, and that mortified her.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “How could you know?”
She let the tiny, self-conscious smile tug at one comer of her mouth. However, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt because she allowed him to believe her embarrassment was caused by having missed the car and not by the fact that her insides had nearly been melted by the mere touch of his hand. She was just relieved that her response had been, for the most part, internal, and all that had surfaced to draw his attention had been a little heated color on her face.
Luke held open the passenger door of the big, four-wheel-drive vehicle, and Jenny had to use the running board to step up into the cab. He went around to the other side and slid behind the wheel.
“It’s so strange,” she said, latching the seat belt securely around her waist. “I remember I need to wear a seat belt...but I haven’t the slightest idea what town I’m in.” She straightened. “I know that that’s a rosebush, and that’s a pine tree, but I can’t remember the name of that mountain range.” She pointed toward the horizon.
Turning the key in the ignition, Luke looked her way. “Doc didn’t offer to fill you in on that kind of stuff?”
She looked contrite. “Oh, he offered,” she said softly. “He made himself available every morning for any questions I might have.” Her gaze wandered out the window and her tone dropped to a whisper as she went on. “I was too afraid to ask.”
The Bronco sat motionless, the engine idling smoothly.
After a silent moment, Luke softly commented, “That sure doesn’t sound like the Jenny I know.”
Frustration reared up inside her. First Doc Porter had chastised her, telling her she hadn’t been the kind of person to hide from the truth. And now Luke was rebuking her, too. Something in her snapped.
“Don’t you understand?” she cried, her eyes welling with tears of defeat and confusion. “The woman you know isn’t in here.” She tapped her index finger twice against her temple. “I don’t remember her. I don’t know her. I’m not sure I even want to—”
“Jenny, stop.” He reached out toward her, his strong fingers gently encircling her wrist.
“Don’t,” she whispered pleadingly, and pulled her arm from his grasp. His touch did things to her. Made her feel a hunger that was both confusing and exciting.
Why was that? The question slipped into her consciousness before she could stop it. Why did she react so strongly to him when—
Jenny shoved the thought aside. She wasn’t ready. There were simply too many other, more fundamental, questions that needed answers. Questions like—who was Jenny Prentice? And is that woman ever coming back? And what was everyone going to do if she didn’t? Who was this man sitting next to her? What kind of marriage had they shared?
That thought brought another startling question. What was he going to expect of her as his wife?
I can’t have sex with a total stranger. A flash of panic swept through her.
The idea of sex brought another question rolling into her mind. Who had fathered the baby she carried?
At the thought of the child growing inside her, she settled her hands, one overtop the other, low on her belly. To Jenny, that last question was the most important of all.
Suddenly, honest emotion flooded from her. “I don’t understand why you’re even here,” she told him. “You should have sent someone after me. After what I’ve done to you. To our marriage.” She shook her head. “I don’t remember what we had together. I don’t have one single memory of our life. But it’s got to hurt you to think I might have slept with your brother.”
She clamped her lips shut. It hadn’t been her intention to reveal so much of the self-doubt she was feeling. Not in such an in-your-face manner, anyway. She had no idea how he might react to such candor.
Her chest seized with guilt as she saw his dark gaze cloud over with pain.
“Look,” he said, “first of all, I want you to know that I don’t believe you and Chad had an affair. I’m the father of the baby you’re carrying. I said it four days ago when you first woke up from your fall, and I’m saying it now.”
Yes, he was making the declaration. Jenny heard it plain and clear. But there was doubt in his onyx eyes—doubt she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed.
“But why would Chad—”
He silenced her with an uplifted hand and a slow shake of his head. “There’s plenty of time to work it all out,” he told her. “You’re still battered and bruised. You need to take time to heal.” He put the Bronco into reverse and pulled slowly from the parking spot. “We’ll find answers to the complicated questions later. For now, let’s stick with the simple things.”
“Simple things?” she asked, wondering if there really was anything simple in this frighteningly complicated situation.
“Yeah.” He nodded, driving to the parking-lot exit and then onto the road. “You can’t get much more simple than where we are. So that’s where we’ll start. We’re in Olem, Pennsylvania. On North Street, to be exact. And that mountain range you were asking about? Those are the Pocono Mountains.” He reached toward the windshield, pointing to the northwest. “See that one? The one with the jagged top? That’s Prentice Mountain. It’s where we’re heading. That’s where we live.”
For nearly half an hour, Luke drove the curving back roads, taking every opportunity to point out to her all the interesting spots and the people on the outskirts of the town.
Olem was a small community in the summer, he’d told her. However, the ski season brought home the winter residents who loved the sport, and the already booming tourist industry was growing even more with each passing year.
He pointed out two other resorts along the road weaving toward Prentice Mountain. Jenny noticed that Luke didn’t seem threatened by the neighboring businesses, despite the fact that these other resorts must compete for his customers. The way he talked about the other owners, people who should have been his competition, as if they were his friends, made her feel light, almost buoyant. And for the first time all morning, she felt a small smile playing on her lips. Jenny didn’t understand what she was feeling, or why she was feeling it. That really didn’t matter, she decided, relaxing in her seat to enjoy the rest of this mini tour.
Jenny found herself enjoying the rich rhythm of Luke’s voice. His tone sounded mellow and serene, so very different from the angry one she remembered hearing four days earlier in the emergency room.
That was it, she realized. The fact that the harshness had disappeared from his voice had lulled her into this wonderful state of light and easy calm. Luke seemed like a completely different person now than he had four days ago.
She felt the desire to ponder this a little further, but Luke pulled off the road in front of a small farmhouse.
“Bud and Mary live here,” Luke told her. “You and I both are addicted to the fresh tomatoes Bud sells. I thought I’d buy us a few. For dinner.”
He opened his door, and instinctively, Jenny reached to open hers.
“Sit still,” he told her. “The stand’s right over there.” He pointed. “I’ll only be a minute.”
Luke went to the produce stand and Jenny heard the friendly murmur of his voice as he greeted the farmer. As if she’d heard the Bronco arrive, a woman came out of the house, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Hi, Jenny,” the woman called out across the yard to her, waving. “Glad to see you’re okay.”
Jenny’s body flushed with a wave of anxiety. She was supposed to know