Who's The Father Of Jenny's Baby?. Donna Clayton

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Who's The Father Of Jenny's Baby? - Donna  Clayton

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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

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