situation and filmed his response for all of America to laugh at later. He glanced quickly around, looking for the hidden camera. But all he saw were empty booths and the waitress working at the counter, refilling salt and pepper shakers.
Slowly he brought his gaze back to Shelby’s.
“Baby,” he repeated dully.
She nodded.
“Why don’t you just ask the man who fathered the child to marry you?”
Her shoulders hitched and she pressed the handkerchief over her mouth to stifle the sob that bubbled up. Then she looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with a heartbreaking mixture of pain and humiliation. “I…I did, but h-he refused.”
Frustrated by the entire conversation, Troy didn’t even try to hide the disgust in his voice. “You should’ve thought of the consequences before you slept with the guy. Or at least taken the necessary precautions. Pregnancy is easy enough to avoid these days.”
Her chin came up at his accusatory tone, and her eyes turned a steely blue. She cut a glance toward the waitress to make certain his comment hadn’t been overheard, then leaned across the table and narrowed her eyes. “I did,” she whispered angrily. “But unfortunately not all precautionary measures are 100 percent fail-safe.” She tossed his handkerchief on the table. “Oh, just forget it,” she snapped as she scooted from the booth. “I thought this might be the perfect solution to both our problems, but I can see that I was wrong.” Stalking to the door, she pushed her way furiously to the outside, sending the cowbell hanging over the door clanking loudly.
Frowning, Troy watched her through the window as she marched across the parking lot, her shoulders square, her head high. Not your problem, Jacobs, he told himself as he watched her jerk open her car door and slip inside. The vehicle rocked hard when she slammed the door behind her. Not your problem, he told himself again when—to his surprise—she wrapped her arms around the steering wheel and buried her face against it. He watched the sobs wrack her slim shoulders…and a fist closed around his heart and squeezed.
His name. All the lady wanted was his name, for God’s sake. Was that so much to ask? It wasn’t as if she had asked him to donate a kidney, or something. And it was only for a couple of months, just long enough to give her baby a name and save it the shame of being labeled a bastard. And who could understand better than Troy Jacobs the stigma attached to being born out of wedlock? Maybe his own life would have been a bit different if his mother had done what this woman was trying to do.
“Damn,” he swore under his breath. He grabbed his hat and rammed it on his head and pushed himself from the booth. Digging his wallet from his back pocket, he pulled out a twenty and tossed it on the table. “Much obliged,” he called to the waitress and waved to her as he pushed through the door.
When he reached Shelby’s car, he grabbed the door handle and swore again when he discovered it was locked. He slammed a fist against the window. “Open up,” he ordered angrily.
She turned her tear-streaked face to glare up at him. “Go away,” she sobbed, and buried her face against her hands again.
Troy pounded his fist on the glass. “Either you open the door or I’m busting out the glass. Your choice.”
Her face twisted with fury, she sat up and rolled down the window. “Say what you have to say, then leave,” she ordered tersely. “This isn’t your problem.”
Scowling, he reached inside and unlocked the door himself. “I don’t think you want what I have to say broadcast all over the parking lot.” He bumped his hip against her side, forcing her to scoot over. “And no, it’s not my problem,” he said as he sat down on the seat still warm from her bottom. He felt around for the release and shoved the seat back, giving him room to stretch out his long legs. He slammed the door with the same degree of frustration as she had, then twisted around on the seat to face her. The fact that she shrank away from him, didn’t go unnoticed. It even shamed him a bit to see a woman cower from him. “How much?”
Startled, she stammered, “W-what?”
“How much?” he repeated angrily. “How much are you willing to pay me for my name?”
Slowly she sat up straighter, her gaze fixed on his face. “Five thousand dollars.”
“And how long do we have to stay married?”
“Until the baby’s born.”
“When’s it due?”
“The fifth of March. I’m three months along.”
Amazed, he glanced down at her stomach where she’d unconsciously pressed a hand, then slowly lifted his gaze to hers again. “But you’re not even showing.”
She dipped her chin and smoothed a hand across her abdomen. “No. Thankfully. But I will be before long.”
Setting his jaw, he frowned at her. “What would be expected of me?”
“Nothing,” she assured him quickly, then caught her lip between her teeth as if catching herself in a lie. “Well, I do need you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Go home with me and meet my parents. Otherwise,” she hurried to explain, “they might not believe I’m really married.”
Troy groaned and slumped down in the seat. “I have to meet your parents?” He rolled his head to the side to look at her. “Couldn’t you just show them the marriage license?”
She clamped her lips together, frowning. “No, I can’t just show them the marriage license,” she mimicked sarcastically. “My father is going to be angry enough that we didn’t marry in the church. He is the pastor, after all, and—”
Troy snapped up his head. “The pastor!” he shouted. “Your daddy is a preacher?”
She gulped and shrank away from him, nodding.
Troy dropped his head back and groaned. “A preacher,” he repeated miserably. “Pete and Clayton are never going to believe this. Hell, I’m not even sure I believe it myself!” Sighing, he turned his face to the side window and stared out at the darkness beyond. From the far side of the parking lot, a pair of green eyes peered back at him.
The black cat.
Maybe I should’ve turned around and headed the other way, he thought miserably.
But it was too late now. Seemed he’d just agreed to sell his name to a pregnant preacher’s daughter to the tune of five thousand dollars.
Two
Though it was almost dawn and the sky still clung to the colors of midnight, the street Troy drove his truck down was bright as midday.
Las Vegas.
He gave his head a shake, then angled it a bit to steal a glance at the woman who slept in the passenger seat beside him. She sat with her head tipped against the window, her bare feet tucked up underneath her and hidden by her full, broomstick skirt. She looked so innocent in sleep, like an angel, even more so than when she was awake, which was pretty darn
