the bookshelves and the desk where she probably prepared her lessons. He’d learned from a swift computer background check that she was a second-grade teacher.
Settling himself on the sofa across from her, he tried to be casual about the situation that was anything but casual. “I just came from a meeting at the clinic.”
She swallowed hard. “I guess it was quite a shock for you, too. I’m still having a difficult time believing this. B.J. and I wanted a child desperately.”
“B.J.?”
“My husband. His name was Barry Jacob but everyone called him B.J.”
“I understand he died a year and a half ago.” Blake knew he didn’t have the capacity in his heart for much compassion anymore. He’d hardened himself to the cruelties of life. Yet with Jenna Winton, he found a corner of it aching for her.
Meeting his gaze courageously, she nodded. “He had cancer and we had his sperm frozen before treatments started, fully expecting he’d recover. We always wanted a family….” She cleared her throat, trying to stave off emotion. “But B.J. didn’t recover. After he was gone, I decided having his child would always keep him alive in my heart.”
What would it be like, Blake wondered, to have a woman love him with that much fervor and faithfulness? He’d learned as a teenager a woman’s loyalty only extended as far as her selfish interests. He was hoping that would be the case with Jenna Winton, also. Sentiment didn’t pay the bills. According to the databases he’d accessed, she was deeply in debt for the hospital expenses her insurance hadn’t covered when her husband was ill, as well as for the insemination procedure. “The clinic told me you didn’t accept the settlement they offered.”
“I know better than to sign anything without consulting a lawyer. Fortunately I have a friend whose husband practices law. Did you accept the settlement?” she asked, surprising him.
“A settlement isn’t what I’m after.” As he studied Jenna Winton now, he knew instinctively she’d be the perfect surrogate. All he had to do was convince her of that. “I want the child you’re carrying.”
She looked stunned by his announcement and appeared to be speechless.
“I suppose you’re right to hold out for a bigger settlement from the clinic,” he continued. “They owe you big-time. But if you act as my surrogate…”
He took a check from his inside suit-coat pocket and offered it to her.
Her eyes widened as she noted the figure.
“That should cover your medical and hospital expenses, time off work and a little extra for going through the whole ordeal. If the amount is suitable, we can sign the papers and at delivery, you’ll give the baby to me.”
As they’d talked, heat had been building in the small living room along with the tension. Jenna’s brow was damp and she swiped her hand across it now as she stared at the check he was holding.
Then in a matter of moments, she went from speechless astonishment to fiery indignation. It flared in her beautiful brown eyes as she jumped to her feet, glaring at Blake as if he were crazy. “I don’t know who you think you are, Mr. Winston, but I want no part of your money. This baby is mine, and I’m not giving her or him up to anyone.”
Pretty before, she was beautiful now, and Blake felt a startling bolt of desire shoot through him that he couldn’t deny. Ignoring it, he stood, too, and faced her. “Why would you want to keep a child by a man you don’t even know?”
The question didn’t throw her as he’d expected it to. “I might not know you, Mr. Winston, but I know this child. I’ve been carrying him for six months. I love this baby. I’ve sung to him, felt him moving inside me. I will never give him up.”
Blake’s shirt stuck to his back, and he could feel sweat beading on his brow. “You might not have any choice.”
His warning rattled Jenna. He could see the fear in her eyes as all the implications of their situation became clear.
Hurrying to the door, she opened it. “I think you’d better leave.”
No one dismissed Blake. After Preston Howard—the father of the girl Blake had imagined himself in love with—had done that to him nineteen long years ago, Blake had vowed no one would ever dismiss him again. Standing his ground, he said evenly, “With the money I’m offering, together with the settlement from the clinic, you’d be set for a while.”
Her spine straightened and her shoulders squared. “Obviously, Mr. Winston, you don’t know me. If you did, you’d realize I’m more sentimental than I am practical. Bonds and family mean more to me than money ever could. So don’t bother making your offer again because I won’t accept it. Please leave or I’ll call the apartment complex manager.”
This time he did as she demanded because he could see her hands were shaking and her chin was quivering. She was pregnant with his child, and he didn’t want anything to happen to the baby or to her. Yet he couldn’t let her think she’d won, either, because she hadn’t.
Before he crossed the threshold, he looked her squarely in the eyes. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”
When Jenna closed the door behind Blake Winston, she almost collapsed against it. The emotions from everything that had happened today, along with the heat, seemed to press against her, making her short of breath. She knew she couldn’t let her emotions affect her physically. She had this baby to protect, and she would do that with her dying breath.
Closing her eyes for a few moments, thinking of the ocean and sand and waves, she calmed herself and her breathing became more even. Spinning around, she peered out the peephole. Blake Winston had indeed left. Not wasting a moment, she crossed to the cordless phone, picked it up and went to the window to catch a breeze. She pressed redial and hoped Rafe Pierson hadn’t left his law office. She hoped he wasn’t with a client. She hoped he could allay her fears. When she reached his receptionist, she gave her name again and the woman put her through.
Jenna had met Rafe’s wife, Shannon, through the elementary school where she taught. Shannon was a psychologist who used equine-assisted therapy to help troubled children. Three years ago, Jenna had heard about her success rate and recommended her services to the parents of one of her students. Shannon had invited Jenna to the Rocky R to give her a glimpse into her methods. She’d stayed for supper and gotten to know Shannon as well as her husband, Rafe, and their two girls. Grateful for the friendship that had begun before B.J. had died, Jenna couldn’t imagine discussing all of this with a complete stranger. Her upbringing as a minister’s daughter had taught her to keep her own counsel, to watch whatever she said and did because it would reflect favorably or unfavorably on her father. She’d never wavered from that course until she’d decided to be artificially inseminated with B.J.’s sperm. Her father had disapproved, but this time his disapproval hadn’t mattered.
“Jenna?” Rafe asked, his voice carrying honest concern. “What’s wrong? Has the clinic contacted you again?”
“No. Blake Winston has. He made me an offer he thought I couldn’t refuse to become a surrogate for him.”
Rafe swore. That was the first time Jenna had ever heard him use a vulgarity. As a former D.A., he usually kept his temper well in check. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him the child is mine. It is,
