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She wanted to talk to him. He was the only person who knew the truth. Vernon and her father, Everett, had been best friends and business partners. But her father was dead. She had seen the body, suffered through the funeral. The world thought Vernon was dead, as well. But now he was back.
Thinking about the Black Crescent scandal inevitably made her think of Jake. Beautiful, stubborn, wandering Jake. Her first boyfriend. She understood why he left. Reporters had made his life miserable. She had only seen him once in the intervening years.
It had been both the best and worst night of her life.
A loud knock at the door demanded her attention. Sometimes the UPS guy did that. But this knock sounded more peremptory than a package delivery.
Cautiously, she peered through a crack in the inexpensive drapes. Dear God. It was Jake. In the flesh. Why was he here? His family still lived in Falling Brook, but that was over an hour away. Why had he come? Her secret threatened to choke her with anxiety.
She opened the door slowly, trying to project mild curiosity even though her heart nearly beat out of her chest. “Jake,” she said. “What a surprise.”
His greenish-hazel eyes bored into her. “Is it true?”
Her brain processed a million reasons why he might be on her doorstep. “Is what true? Why don’t you come in and have something to drink?”
As she stepped back and opened the door wider, Jake entered her small living room and paced, his furious gaze cataloging and dismissing the contents of her modest home. “I want to know why you sent Zane Patterson anonymous information claiming Joshua was the father of your baby.”
All the blood drained from her head, and she forgot about offering Jake a cup of coffee. She sat down hard on the sofa. “My baby?” She hated the quavering tone in her voice. She had done nothing wrong.
“Don’t give me that.” Jake shook his head, scowling. “I know it’s true. What did you hope to gain by blackmailing my brother?”
Nikki straightened her spine and glared. “If you want to sit down and discuss this civilly, I’ll listen. But you’re way off base. I’ve never had any contact with your brother or Zane, not since we were teenagers. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
At last, Jake plopped down in a chair and drummed his fingers on the arms. His whole body radiated strong emotion. As she tried to catch her breath, she absorbed the look of him. He was a beautiful man. Always had been. Today he wore a scuffed leather bomber jacket and jeans so old and faded they molded to his legs, and other parts, as if they had been made just for him. His soft cotton button-down shirt was pale green, the color of vintage glass bottles. Deck shoes with no socks exposed his tanned ankles.
He was tanned all over, in fact. The man had spent his life outdoors. Or much of it. His streaky blond hair needed a cut. In the summers when they were kids, the sun would bleach Jake’s hair gold. Now it was more subdued.
She glanced at her watch, trying not to panic. Did he know the truth about Emma, or was he fishing? She wouldn’t lie about her daughter, but she wasn’t going to volunteer any unnecessary information at this point. “I have an errand to run,” she said calmly. “This will have to wait.”
His jaw tightened. “Then I’m coming with you.”
Her stomach clenched. Having him close made her senses go haywire. Why was it so hard to be sensible when Jake Lowell was around? “It won’t take me long. I could meet you for dinner later.”
“I’m not letting you out of my sight, Nikki Reardon.” His gaze was grim. Implacable. As if he was the hunter, and she was the prey.
“Fine,” she said. She stood and retrieved her purse and keys. She had no idea what he would think when he saw Emma, but she would put one foot in front of the other until she figured it out. Her mother had pressed her to contact Jake and ask for child support, but Nikki had been too proud to beg. When Jake walked away from her five years ago without a word, she had known he was still running from his past. And that he was never going to be the man she needed him to be.
Outside, she grimaced when she saw his fancy black sports car, a rental no doubt, parked at the curb. The sleek vehicle looked wildly out of place on this middle-class street. Her own mode of transportation was a fifteen-year-old compact model with a car seat in the back.
She unlocked her car and watched as Jake folded his body into the passenger seat. He was a couple of inches over six feet, so he was not going to be entirely comfortable.
Good.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“I have to pick up Emma from preschool.”
“Emma?” The word sounded strangled.
She shot him a sideways glance, noting his sudden pallor.
“Yes. Emma. My daughter.”
