Chase’s muscular shoulders were draped over a pair of crutches. He limped toward her, his jeans trimmed to allow for the cast on his broken left leg. Eyes downcast, he seemed intent on maneuvering the crutches across the slick floor. Or on avoiding looking at her. On closer inspection, Marni decided it was the latter. The coward.
A few feet from her, he stopped and looked up for the first time, his pale blue eyes welding her feet to the floor.
Marni didn’t move an eyelash as his gaze flicked over her. Would he recognize her for the impostor she was?
He frowned, those blue eyes intent on her face. She let out a silent oath. She knew this wouldn’t work; any man who’d been intimate with a woman would know whether or not she was his lover when he saw her. One look at this man, and Marni knew she’d never be able to fool him. He made her feel as if he could see beyond the dye job and the eye shadow right into her deceitful soul.
“I wondered when you’d show up here,” Chase said.
So much for that theory. “What did you expect?”
His gaze dropped to her swollen abdomen, then insolently moved back up to her face. His eyes iced over. “Not this.”
She shot him a look that she hoped would give him frostbite. Had he thought Elise wasn’t serious when she’d told him she was pregnant? Or maybe he thought by rejecting her she’d just go away.
“We need to talk about the baby,” Marni said, putting a protective hand over “Sam.”
Chase clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. “The baby? I thought I told you on the phone, this wasn’t going to work. What is it you want?”
“For you to own up to what you’ve done and accept some of the responsibility,” Marni snapped.
Hushed voices drifted down from the second floor.
“For what I’ve done?” Chase demanded. He seemed to be fighting to keep his voice down. “What are you trying to pull here?”
The muffled voices silenced. Marni looked up to see a small crowd gathered at the top of the wide, circular staircase. All eyes stared down at her.
“This is not the place to discuss this,” Jabe interjected abruptly. “Let’s take it into the library.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Chase said, locking his gaze with hers. “I don’t know who you are or what you want. But I can assure you of one thing, that…baby…isn’t mine.”
After that stunning declaration, Chase turned on his crutches and hobbled off without a backward glance.
Marni started after him, planning to use one of his crutches to help refresh his memory, but Jabe put a firm hand on her arm.
“I’d like a word with you in private,” Jabe said. “Come this way.”
She had a word for him—and his son. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude, but you and I have nothing to discuss. Your son, on the other hand, is a whole different matter.” She heard a door slam in the direction from which Chase had disappeared. The group at the top of the stairs didn’t even bother to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping.
Jabe studied her with a look of mild surprise. “I think you’re wrong about that, Ms. McCumber, I believe you and I might have a great deal to talk about.” He motioned toward an open doorway down the opposite hall. “Please?”
Marni had a feeling the word didn’t come easy to him. And although she suspected he planned to read her the riot act once they were behind closed doors, she also saw it as an opportunity to share a few choice words she had for him about his son.
“You might be right,” she said to Jabe.
The group at the top of the stairs descended in a scurry of curiosity before Jabe and Marni could escape. The oldest of the women broke free of the others and approached them.
“Is there a problem?” she inquired, pretending to ignore Marni. She had a diamond the size of Rhode Island on her ring finger and wore her marital status like a badge of honor. This had to be Mrs. Jabe Calloway.
“Nothing to concern yourself with, Vanessa,” Jabe assured her. “Go on in to dinner. I’ll be along shortly.”
Vanessa looked as if she’d been dragged into her late fifties kicking and screaming. From the bleached blond hair of the perfect pageboy to her tightly stretched facial features, she looked like a woman at war with the aging process.
She gave Marni a disdainful look, hesitating on the protruding belly for one wrathful moment before she turned and swept away. Over her shoulder she said, “Don’t be late, dear. You know how Hilda hates it when you’re late.”
Her words sounded hollow, lacking authority. It was obvious who ran this household, just as Elise had told her.
Marni took a calming breath as she followed Jabe Calloway down the hall. She reminded herself why she’d come here. To talk to Chase. To give him a chance to explain, if not rectify, the situation. To give Chase a chance, period. Because Elise loved the man. Although at this moment, good looks aside, Marni could not fathom why.
* * *
THE LIBRARY WAS as large and masculine as Jabe himself. He motioned to a chestnut-colored leather couch that spanned one wall. Built-in bookshelves bordered the room. A huge rock fireplace stretched across the only open wall. An oversize brown leather recliner hunkered in front of it. Several other chairs were scattered around. Everything in the room seemed to have been sized to one man—Jabe Calloway.
Marni scanned the bookshelves as she headed for the couch, curious if the books were for looks only or if someone in this family actually read them.
“Do you like to read?” Jabe asked from behind her.
She nodded as she spotted one of her favorites and pulled it from the shelf, surprised to find the cover worn.
“You’re a Jane Austen fan, too?” Jabe asked.
Marni turned, the copy of Pride and Prejudice still in her hand. Jabe Calloway didn’t seem to be someone who would enjoy Austen.
“She’s one of Chase’s favorites.”
“Really?” Marni said, her surprised gaze momentarily connecting with his before she put the book back and went to the couch. “I didn’t know that.” She was beginning to realize how little she knew about Chase Calloway; she wondered how much Elise really knew.
“The subject of books probably never came up,” Jabe said as he took a seat across from her.
She started to sit on the couch, forgot how awkward sitting was “pregnant” and basically fell into the soft, deep, low sofa.
“Did Chase tell you about this house?” Jabe asked, obviously making small talk, probably thinking he could mollify her once he had her alone. “It was built by a wealthy horse thief turned politician a hundred years ago.”
She didn’t comment, not half as impressed with the horse thief as he was. Nor was she interested in this house.
He must have realized that. He quit smiling and leaned back in his chair, studying her openly. “Tell me about my son.”
Was