Who's The Father Of Jenny's Baby?

Luke opened the heavy oak door for her and then motioned for her to enter. With her bottom lip tucked firmly between her teeth, she went through the doorway and looked around.

Pennsylvania bluestone covered the floor. Rather than describe the area as a foyer, she would have called it a hallway that ran the length of the front of the house. A gallery, she supposed it was, with tall, narrow windows that let in lots of light. One end of the hall opened onto what looked like a library, a small, cozy room lined with bookshelves. The Queen-Anne-style table and chairs she saw peeking from the room at the opposite end told her that was a formal dining area.

“Well,” Luke said, “this is it. Home Sweet Home.”

She gazed into the living room in front of her. The lush, dove-gray carpet butting up against the bluestone lent a formal feel that Jenny wasn’t sure she liked. She stood there, listening to the quiet.

Luke’s hand on her shoulder gave her a start.

“You okay?”

It wasn’t until that moment that she noticed she’d been holding her breath, waiting. For what? she wondered.

“Fine,” she answered, distracted. The smile she offered him barely curved her lips.

What had she been waiting for? The question continued to niggle.

Had she expected the sight of the house to bring some onrush of memories? An overwhelming flash flood carrying on its swift and turbulent current years and years’ worth of mental pictures from the past?

Jenny realized she actually felt disappointed. Again, she found herself looking all around her, just listening and wondering. Hoping that she would feel some small nuance of familiarity. But she felt no recognition whatsoever. She might as well have been standing in Buckingham Palace, as foreign as this place felt. This house that was supposed to be her home.

“Give it time,” Luke said, smoothing his hand over her shoulder and down her arm to her elbow.

He must have read the disappointment on her face. Must have understood her wild, crazy expectation to miraculously regain her memory.

“This might not feel like home to you now,” he went on, “but you’ll make new memories. You’ll have new experiences. Experiences that will turn this house into your home again.”

You’ll make new memories. You’ll have new experiences. Jenny studied her husband’s face, acutely aware that he hadn’t used the word we.

He smiled then, and every dark and dire message she imagined he was sending faded into oblivion as the heat of his hand on her elbow seemed to wash across her skin to her forearm, and then her wrist, and then further, until it reached the very tips of her fingers.

This was the first time his body had ever contacted hers, flesh to flesh, skin to skin. Well, the first time in her mind, anyway. She’d thought his touch was hot when he’d placed his hand on the small of her back where the fabric of her shirt had been between them, but this...

This was fiery. Blistering.

The heat radiating from him became an element with a life of its own, flowing up over her shoulder like some flammable, intoxicating liquid and cascading sensuously down both her back and her chest.

“Do you want me to give you a grand tour?”

Surely he must see, she thought. Surely he must recognize how his touch ignited something in her. Something mysterious. Something frighteningly erotic.

Fearing she was about to burn completely to ashes, or embarrass herself beyond belief, she took a backward step. She moistened her parched lips, her mind whirling as she contemplated a response.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, surprised by how normal her voice sounded, “I’d like to wander around on my own.”

Luke nodded, but his mouth firmed into a straight line. “Whatever you wish.” He glanced down at the bag he still carried. “I’ll take your things upstairs, and then I’ll park the Bronco around back.”

His tone wasn’t quite clipped, but Jenny could tell her desire to explore the house alone had offended him.

“Well, there she is!”

She looked up and saw her brother-in-law standing by the library door. He’d obviously come from the hallway that led to the back of the house.

Before Jenny could speak, Luke said, “Chad, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be overseeing the work crews up on the mountain.”

“Relax,” Chad told his brother, tossing out an easy smile. “You’re too focused on work. The stress alone is going to give you a heart attack.”

“If someone doesn’t focus on work, and on getting those trees cleared, the ski runs aren’t going to be ready, come winter,” Luke shot back.

Irritation emanated from Luke in palpable waves. Jenny watched his jaw tense as he stared at Chad, and she couldn’t help but notice how the annoyance he felt turned his features sharp and hawkish.

“They’ll be ready,” Chad said, seeming not the least disturbed by Luke’s anger. His gaze glittered warmly as he turned it on Jenny. “I just had to be here to welcome you home. How are feeling? You doing okay?”

Jenny was surprised. She’d been dreading seeing Chad again. She’d been confused by the fear she’d felt of him when she’d first awoken in the hospital. But there wasn’t a nuance of anxiety in her now. And he seemed so genuinely concerned about her.

“I’m—”

“How do you think she’s feeling?” Exasperation was clearly evinced by Luke’s question. “She’s scraped up and bruised. The last thing she needs is to be barraged with a bunch of questions.”

Although Chad looked wounded, there was an argument brewing in his brown eyes. “Look, Luke, I only came home to see how she was—”

“But the point is,” Luke said, “you weren’t supposed to come home at all this afternoon. Someone should be up there minding those men we hired. They’re costing us a bundle of money.”

“You know they won’t take orders from me.”

“That’s because you don’t spend enough time up there—”

“That wouldn’t make any difference,” Chad said. “They look to you, and you only.”

Her gaze bounced back and forth from one man to the other until the bickering made her mind spin.

“It wouldn’t be that way if you’d show them—”

“You should have let me go to Olem to pick up Jenny—”

“Please!” She pressed her fingers to her temples.

Silence fell around them like a heavy wool blanket, the sheer weight of it thick and awkward. She hadn’t realized how loudly she’d spoken.

A frown planted itself in her brow as she looked, first at Chad, then at Luke. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I seem to be coming down with a headache. Is there some place I could lie down?”

“Of course.”

Both men answered and simultaneously took a step toward her, then froze. The brothers stared, each refusing to back down. Jenny was afraid another shouting match was about to ensue, but then Luke acted. He reached into his pocket and lightly tossed his keys to Chad.

“Please park the Bronco in the garage,” he said, his request courteous but edged with steel. “I’ll take Jenny upstairs,. Then we can go back to work and she can rest. I’ll meet you around back at the pickup truck.”

She didn’t think she could take another round of quarreling, and her expression must have conveyed just that because her brother-in-law’s eyes softened.

“You have a good rest,” he said. “I’ll see you later on at dinner.”

Smoothing her hand wearily over her hair, she nodded at him. He left through the front door, and Jenny turned to follow Luke down the hallway to the stairs.

This sudden fatigue sapped her desire to see the house, to explore the rooms for answers to the dozens of questions that had been haunting her for days. All she wanted to do was close her eyes, and escape.

The bedroom was large and had its own sitting area with a plush and inviting couch and matching chair, a small television set, a cherry bookcase and a writing desk. The floor was covered with carpet the color of sea foam, the pale green hue lending a calm feel to the room.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

Luke set her small bag by the closet door. “No one ever complained about your taste.”

“I decorated this room?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jenny eased herself down on the very edge of the mattress, smoothing her palm over the pristine white bedspread. She glanced up at Luke and saw that he’d grown utterly still, his eyes riveted to her hand as it slid across the fabric.

The thought hit her like a stone right between the eyes. The bed. She was sitting on the bed they must have shared as husband and wife.

Snatching her hand to her chest, she quickly jumped up. His gaze flew to her face, a mask sliding down over his expression, but not before she glimpsed his pain.

She and Luke had slept together in that bed. Had she taken his brother into this bed, too? The very idea sickened her. Just as, she was sure, it sickened her husband.

“Jenny.”

Luke’s voice startled her. She looked at him, hugging her arms across her chest. His muscular body was taut and he looked as if he had something on his mind, but couldn’t find the words to express himself.

What must he think of her? She was helpless to stop the question from whispering across her thoughts.

“I wish things were different,” he said at last. “I’d hoped your homecoming would be...”

He pressed his lips together, letting the rest of the sentence trail off. Reaching up, he raked his fingers through his hair. The breath he expelled was shot through with frustration. “You rest,” he told her. “Mary will come later to check on you. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Then he turned on his heel and left her alone in the peaceful room.

She slipped off her shoes and stretched out on the bed, her chaotic mind a direct contrast to the serene colors and soft fabrics surrounding her. Her greatest wish at this moment was to close her eyes, fly away on the gentle wings of sleep. But her conscious mind had other ideas—ideas it refused to let her ignore.

There were brothers in this house, snipping and snarling like two dogs with one bone. There was a marriage, tattered and torn. And there was a child. Instinctively, Jenny’s hand moved to her stomach. A child that two men claimed.

The pivotal point of all these problems was her...a woman who had no memory of how any of these situations had come to be. Lord above, she sent the silent prayer heavenward, how am I ever going to untangle the mess I’ve made of all these lives?

Chapter Three

Jenny’s eyes fluttered open and a sleepy sigh escaped her lips. The room was illuminated with the soft mauve and gray hues of twilight. She’d slept away the entire afternoon. Her muscles felt languid and heavy, yet her mind was keen, her thinking clear, as if something was about to happen.

Sitting up, she swept back the tangle of hair that had fallen over her face, and before she even had time to draw a deep breath, Luke pushed open the door a crack and peeked in.

His brow creased in an apologetic frown. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I only wanted to check—”

“I was already awake,” she told him, marveling that she’d awoken with a such a strong feeling of expectation just seconds before Luke had come into the room. Did she have some kind of psychic connection to this man? Some sixth sense that had alerted her to his imminent arrival?

The questions were so silly, they embarrassed her. “I can’t believe I slept so long.”

There it was again. That devastating smile that sent a jolt of soul-stirring electricity shooting through her. The same smile that softened the harsh planes and hollows of Luke’s face, making his handsome countenance even more attractive.

“But you were supposed to be resting,” he pointed out, his obsidian eyes warm and mellow in the dusky light filtering through the windows.

The concern she read in his gaze made her blood heat. She wanted this man. In a purely carnal sense. The thought shocked her. And at the same time the realization made her feel terribly conscious of her disheveled appearance.

“I’m a mess,” she murmured, averting her face and combing her fingers through her hair.

“You’re beautiful.”

The compliment had been whispered so softly, she couldn’t even be sure she’d heard him correctly. Jenny lifted her eyes to his and saw a sincerity there that stole her breath away.

She didn’t know what to say, how to act, and the silence swelled until it seemed to swirl and pulse with some mysterious energy. Jenny was sure he must hear the thunder of her heart in the utter stillness.

Finally, Luke came further into the room, stopping a few feet from the bed. “How’s your headache?”

“Gone,” she said, realizing that, for having fallen asleep with such worrisome thoughts, she felt well-rested. “Actually, I’m feeling pretty good.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

The silky baritone of his voice sent shivers coursing down her spine. He was close enough to her now that she could smell the warm scent of him, an appealing mixture of woodsy cologne and the clean smell of shower soap. His black hair glistened damp in the fading, rosy glow.

Feeling desperate to break this tense allure threatening to overwhelm her, she reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. But the artificial light did nothing to dissipate the sparks that snapped and crackled in the air.

“Are you hungry?”

How could he ask such a mundane question with all this electricity throbbing in this suddenly-too-small room?

Whether he was conscious of the underlying current or not, his pretense of normal behavior was probably the best way to handle the situation, she decided. She’d simply follow his example.

“I’m starved,” she told him, proud of the confident smile she was able to offer him.

Absently, he slid his palm across the front of his shirt. “Mary fried some chicken and made a bowl of potato salad. Oh, and there’s baked beans and biscuits, too. And she didn’t forget that lemon meringue pie she promised.”

She sensed rather than saw his grin as he listed the dinner menu, her gaze glued to his hand where it rested on his broad chest. Even though she knew it was the last thing she should be doing, she couldn’t help but imagine how his pectoral muscles might feel under her own fingertips.

Hard and hot, she was sure.

Blinking, she realized that Luke’s eyes held an expectant look, as if he’d asked her a question and he was waiting for an answer. Heat suffused her cheeks as she said, “Um, I beg your pardon?”

He chuckled. “I guess the sandman still hasn’t let you completely loose.”

“I guess.” She didn’t mind jumping at the excuse he’d given her for her lack of attention, even though her brain was quick and keen, and had been since the instant she’d opened her eyes.

“I asked if you’d like me to bring you a tray,” he repeated. “Or would you rather join us downstairs?”

“I’ll come down,” she said, sliding to the edge of the mattress. But then she stopped, remembering that Luke had mentioned Mary. “Is she still here? Mary, I mean?”

He shook his dark head. “She had to go fix Bud’s dinner.” After a moment, he softly added, “Mary was disappointed that she didn’t get a chance to talk to you.”

Relief flowed through her when she realized she didn’t have to deal with yet another new experience. What do you say to people who know more about you than you do yourself?

Evidently, Luke recognized what she was feeling because he said, “It is going to be okay, you know. We’re just going to take it one day at a time.”

She smiled at him, his use of the plural pronoun making it seem as if she wasn’t in this all alone. But she didn’t let down her guard completely, remembering how, just a few hours ago, he’d acted irritated, almost standoffish toward her. Luke wasn’t going to be an easy man to figure out.

“I don’t mean to be timid about meeting Mary. It’s just that...” She let the sentence trail, knowing from the look on his face that he understood she wasn’t quite ready to take on the whole world.

His black gaze took on a note of warning. “Chad’s downstairs. You’re all he’s talked about today. He wants to see for himself that you’re really okay. I hope he won’t overwhelm you.”

The concern biting into his brow made Jenny feel secure for some reason. After her reaction to Luke and Chad’s bickering this afternoon, she didn’t feel that her husband would allow the situation to get out of hand.

Her husband. Thinking of herself as married gave her such an odd sensation. A sensation filled with a multitude of emotions. A sensation she really didn’t have time to ponder in depth at the moment.

She hitched up one shoulder a fraction. “I won’t lie to you,” she said. “I am a little apprehensive.”

“There’s no reason to be.” His smile faded as determination overtook his expression. “You can trust me on that.”

This fiercely protective side he was showing made her grow silent, thoughtful. It put her at ease and melted some of the anxiety jittering inside her. She liked the feeling, she decided.

Drawing her spine straight, she didn’t smile as she told him, “I do trust you, Luke.”

He held her gaze for only a moment, then stuffing his hands into his pockets, he looked away. Was he embarrassed by her admission? she wondered. The thought was heartwarming.

“Let me run a brush through my hair,” she told him. “And I’d like to splash my face with a little water. I’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes, okay?”

Luke nodded silently and then left the room.

Padding into the master bathroom, Jenny pulled a clean washcloth from the shelf, moistened it and smoothed it over her face. She scrubbed her teeth and brushed her hair.

Finally, she stared into the mirror at the image that was no more familiar to her now than it had been when she’d regained consciousness four days ago. Jenny Prentice was an unknown entity. As strange to her as Luke and Chad, as Mary and her husband Bud. But in order to get to know the woman staring back at her from the mirror, Jenny knew she needed information. She turned to the door, straightening her shoulders. It was time to come face-to-face with the two men who could give her the facts she desperately needed.

The fried chicken was juicy and tender, and Jenny didn’t realize just how hungry she was until she took that first bite.

“This is delicious.” she said.

Luke nodded. “Mary’s a good cook.”

“But so are you, Jenny,” Chad told her. “You always loved working in the kitchen.”

Jenny tossed her brother-in-law an awkward smile, his compliment making her wonder what kind of meals she used to prepare. Did she favor fancy dishes such as fettuccine Alfredo and seafood paella? Or did she cook simple fare like franks and beans, hamburgers and fries?

“Baking bread was your specialty,” Luke said, scooping up a forkful of chilled potato salad.

Chad chuckled. “We always knew when Jenny was upset, didn’t we, Luke? She’d be in the kitchen, up to her elbows in flour, bashing the heck out of some bread dough.” He grinned at her. “You called it kneading, but Luke and I knew you were imagining one or the other of us under those pummeling fists of yours.”

So, Jenny mused, she worked out her aggressions by baking bread. Interesting.

She looked up when Chad chuckled again. “And let me tell you, you baked more bread around here over the past couple of months than you have in—”

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