Jake's child Read Free Page B

eyes, almost as though he knew how nearsighted she was. "I have good eyesight."
    "You must." Sarah tried to figure out why his simplest statements sounded like lies. Her fingers smoothed the wet dishrag. "I think it's time you and your son leave." Skirting the table, she cast a quick glance at the sleeping boy. He should be home in bed; not humped over a kitchen table at one o'clock in the morning.
    "We can't." The man's voice was flat and low.
    Her hands gripped the chair where the boy slept. "What do you mean, you can't?" Even in the chill air, sweat

    beaded her forehead. With an effort, she kept her voice down. "You have to!"
    Suddenly he was at her side, his rough whisper matching her tone. "We can't. The truck has a flat."
    "Fix it!" Sarah took two steps away from his rugged strength.
    "I don't have a spare. I thought you might have one. This being a fishing camp, you must carry spare parts." He circled between her and the back door.
    "Well, I don't." Sarah forced her words out. "You have to leave. I don't want you here."
    "Yeah, you made that clear, all right. I can understand you not wanting to let us in at first, but you couldn't even spare a sick kid something to eat without having your arm twisted." Contempt colored his voice.
    Put that way, her reluctance to let him and his son in seemed cheap and stingy, not cautious. But she didn't have to justify herself to him. He was the intruder. "Now just a minute—" As he leaned forward, his jeans brushed her bare thighs, sending a shiver over her skin. She pulled back. "You should have thought about that before dragging him out at this time of night." She smoothed her hair off her forehead and saw him follow the movements of her fingers down to her cutoffs. Suddenly she didn't know what to do with her hands.
    The hum of the ice-maker was followed by the thunking of cubes into the tray. The anger faded from his eyes. "Yeah, you're right," he said tiredly, "I should have thought about a lot of things. But I didn't." He looked back at his son for a long moment. "We can't leave tonight."
    Sarah looked at the grimy scrap with his thin fingers smeared with God-knew-what-kind of dirt and smashed noodles. She really didn't want this pitiful child in her home. His wiry energy and intelligence tugged at her memories. She wanted him gone. "I don't rent cabins. You can't stay here."

    4 'Hell. You have a big house. Can't you find a corner somewhere? I mean, I don't want to inconvenience you or anything." Sarcasm lashed his rough voice. "You're a real sweetheart, you are. Haven't you ever heard the story about the Good Samaritan?"
    Her skin flushed with a temper she rarely let loose anymore, but she was tired and confused and the boy had rubbed against old pain, leaving her off balance. "Look, this isn't my problem. You're the one who took off in the middle of the night with your son. You're the one who didn't plan ahead. Don't take out your guilt on me!"
    A cabbage palm branch rattled against the roof, broken loose by the rising wind. Jake inhaled deeply. Sarah saw the visible effort he made to defuse the tension as he spoke. "I fouled up. But I need help now." He paused. His voice was expressionless when he continued. "For the kid."
    Sarah felt petulant and didn't much like herself at the moment. Her hand strayed to touch the back of the boy's washed-to-no-color shirt. She stopped the inadvertent movement. They could sleep on the porch. No, she thought, as she saw the man's judgmental eyes, that won't do.
    A sniffle escaped from the child. He needed a bed and he'd been ill. She could let him sleep upstairs. "All right." She rubbed her arms. "Do you want to carry him or wake him so he can walk up?" She wasn't experienced with kids. She didn't know which would be better, but she hated to ruin his sleep.
    The man's decisiveness irritated her. "I'll carry him. Unless, of course," his tone was snide, "you want me to wake him up and give him a bath?"
    The ache in her throat stopped her