Across town, closer to the thriving community of Wexler, builders and developers had been hard at work, creating several subdivisions along the perimeter of the lake and recreation area.
The Brighton Valley Medical Center, which served the citizens from the entire valley, was located in that part of town, too, as was a supermarket, a department store and a much nicer motel.
But since Shane hadn’t wanted to give Jillian any complicated directions, he’d chosen the Stagecoach Inn because it would be easier for her to find. However, he hadn’t expected her to need lodging, too. So he should have come up with something closer to Wexler.
He supposed the Night Owl wasn’t so bad, even if it wouldn’t provide her with the kind of accommodations she was probably used to.
As they approached the single-story building with white stucco walls and a red-tile roof, he spotted a couple of older vehicles in the parking lot, but his gaze lit upon a white, late-model Mercedes coupe in the space closet to number ten, which had to be where they were heading.
Jillian’s steps slowed as she reached into her purse, then lifted an old-fashioned key instead of a more modern card and smiled. “I guess this place is in a bit of a time warp.”
Her smile suggested she wasn’t too bothered by the age of the motel, then she turned and led him to number ten.
Shane was reminded of the last time she’d let him into her hotel room.
As much as he’d like to wrap his arms around her again, kiss her senseless at the door, stretch out naked on the bed and make love until dawn, things were going to be different tonight.
At least, he assumed they would be.
Yet just as before, Shane held the door for Jillian, then followed her inside.
The room, which was clean but sparse, had been simply decorated with a queen-size bed and the typical, nondescript box-style furniture. Again he was reminded that she wasn’t used to this kind of lodging, even if she hadn’t complained.
He set their bag of food on the small Formica table in the corner, then dug inside for the takeout cartons, plastic utensils and napkins Trina had packed inside.
After setting everything out on the table, he turned to Jillian, intending to follow her lead.
She blushed, and her thick, spiky lashes swept down, then up in a hesitant way.
“What’s the matter?”
“I…” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little concerned about what the future will bring.”
For a moment, he wondered if she was talking about them having dinner together in her motel room, while a queen-size bed grew in prominence. But she probably meant the changes the baby would make in their lives, about them trying to be coparents when distance was going to be an issue.
Either way, he didn’t like the idea of her being stressed—and not just because she was pregnant. So he stepped forward, cupped her cheeks with both hands and caught her eye. “If you want to know the truth, Jillian, I’m nervous about the future, too. But maybe, if we take the time to get to know each other a whole lot better, things will be easier to deal with.”
Her smile, which bordered on pleasure and relief, nearly knocked him to the floor. And he found himself wanting to kiss her in the worst way—and just as he’d done before.
Who was this woman? And what was she doing to him?
Struggling to get his hormones in check, he nodded toward the food on the table. “Why don’t we start by having dinner?”
“Okay.” She crossed the small room in three steps, then pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table.
He followed her lead, but in spite of suggesting that they eat, he wasn’t nearly as hungry as he’d once been. Not for food anyway. But making love had gotten them into this mess in the first place, and doing it again wasn’t going to solve any of the problems they now faced.
Instead, it would be imperative to learn more about her.
And one thing that really had him perplexed was her financial situation, since she appeared to be ultra-wealthy, yet lived in a modest apartment.
“You said that you didn’t expect any financial support from me. And by the style and make of the car parked outside, as well as those diamond stud earrings you’re wearing, I take it money isn’t an issue for you.”
She lifted the lid to her soup, then reached for a plastic spoon. “I’m afraid things aren’t always what they seem. Thanks to a prenuptial agreement, the only things I got from the divorce settlement—besides my freedom—was a modest settlement, my jewelry and the Mercedes you saw out front. But I plan to trade in the car for something more economical in the next couple of weeks. And I’ve sold some of the jewelry already.”
“Then you do need money.”
“But I don’t need your money,” she insisted. “I didn’t come here to secure child support payments. Honestly, Shane, I only came to tell you that you’re going to be a father. Just so you’d know. I really wasn’t trying to rope you into anything. I can make it on my own.”
Shane didn’t mean to doubt her. It’s just that… Well, he was finding it difficult to get a firm read on her, so he asked, “Then what’s the best way for me to help you? I’m afraid the ball is in your court.”
Was it?
Jillian had just placed a spoonful of broth into her mouth, so she couldn’t have managed a quick response if she’d wanted to, which was just as well. Her first thought was to tell him, You can stop asking me questions and start answering a few of mine.
After all, she’d come out to Brighton Valley to learn more about Shane, but she couldn’t very well open by bringing up the incident that had caused him to get in trouble with the HPD—even if that was the main thing she both wanted and needed to know.
If she did broach a sticky subject like that right off the bat, he’d wonder how she’d found out about it. And what was she supposed to admit? That she’d not only done an internet search, which everyone did these days, but that she’d also enlisted the help of an investigative journalist?
It was too soon to do that, so she answered as honestly as she could. “I’m really not sure how you can help.”
“Like I said before, I want to be involved in the baby’s life.”
“Well, under the circumstances, that’s going to be a little tough, isn’t it?”
It was the truth, although she hoped the words didn’t come across as harshly as they sounded after the fact.
Shane glanced down at his uneaten burger, then met her gaze. Yet he didn’t speak.
He was a handsome man and a good lover—that, she knew. But she had no idea what was under the surface—or what kind of father he’d make. And his desire to be a part of the baby’s life caught her off guard, causing her maternal instincts to kick in.
“If you’re thinking you’d like to share custody, that won’t work. A baby needs its mother.”
Shane stiffened as if she’d struck him, and she wasn’t sure why. He lived two hours away. How could they possibly consider joint custody until the child was older? And even then, she wasn’t willing to enter an arrangement like that until she knew him better and could determine whether he harbored either a short fuse or a violent streak.
She placed the lid back on her soup container, no longer hungry. Why had she told him she was pregnant? Okay, so it wouldn’t have been right to keep it from him, but she was having serious misgivings.
Shane pushed his food aside. “Look, I didn’t