Having His Baby (14 page)

"Why should I care what Jake's planning to do?" Donna emptied the hamper filled with baby items into the washing machine. "I want that man out of my life."

"You don't mean that and you know it," Sheila said as she handed Donna the box of laundry detergent. "He's your husband and Louisa's father."

Donna measured the right amount of detergent, poured it into the washing machine and adjusted the selection knob. "I never should have married him. Getting involved with Jake Bishop was a mistake from start to finish." She slammed shut the washer lid.

"You don't think Louisa is a mistake and if you hadn't gotten involved with Jake, she wouldn't exist." Sheila laid her hand on Donna's shoulder. "You and Jake are just upset with each other right now, but I'm telling you that if you don't stop him, Jake is going to do something that can end any hopes for your marriage."

"There is no hope for our marriage." Donna walked out of the laundry room and into the kitchen. When Sheila followed her, Donna turned, looked her friend square in the eye and asked, "What's Jake planning to do? It couldn't be any worse than what he's already done. You wouldn't believe the performance he gave in front of my study club this afternoon."

"That bunch of society snobs!" Sheila laughed sarcastically. "I don't blame him if he put them in their places. Why someone as nice as you would want to be friends with people like Stephanie Lamont and Marcia Duggar is beyond me."

"Stephanie is President Harding's niece and Marcia and I are sorority sisters. And Edward and I were friends with Patricia and Gloria and their husbands."

"And not a one of them showed up at the baby shower Susan and I gave you, did they? That tells me what kind of friends they are."

Donna opened the refrigerator. "Would you like some lemonade? Jimmie Lou made up a fresh pitcher while she was here today."

"Sure, pour us a glass." Sheila sat at the kitchen table. "Too bad Jake won't be drinking lemonade tonight. If he were, he might not be headed for trouble."

Donna let out a long, low, exasperated sigh, lifted the pitcher from the refrigerator and set it on the counter. "So, go ahead and tell me—what is Jake planning on doing tonight? Getting drunk? Well, that doesn't surprise me. I think he's spent a great deal of time in bars."

"When Jake came by the house, he told Caleb that he was going over to the Pale Rider to get rip-roaring drunk."

After taking two tall glasses from the cupboard, Donna poured the lemonade and carried the glasses over to the table. "All I can say is that if Jake does get drunk, he'd better not come back here tonight and make a scene. I'll call the police if he does." Donna pulled out a chair and sat beside Sheila.

"According to Jake, he isn't coming home tonight."

"Good."

"Not so good."

"Why? He'll probably come to your house or go over to Hank and Susan's and sleep it off."

"I don't think so." Sheila picked up the lemonade and took a sip.

"Will you stop that! Just tell me what you're dying to say."

"Jake told Caleb that he's going to find himself an obliging woman … one who won't order him out of her bed five minutes after they've made love."

Heavy, heart-pounding silence hung in the room like a painful, breath-robbing mist. Donna gulped in air as she tried to control the sudden rage that consumed her. He was going to find himself another woman! Another woman! Jake—her husband—really was going to take another woman into his arms, kiss her, touch her and make love to her.

Donna's hand trembled so badly that she lost her grip on the glass. It toppled over and lemonade spread quickly across the tabletop. Sheila jumped up, grabbed a dish towel and wiped up the sticky-sweet liquid.

"You have to stop him," Sheila said. "No matter why you and Jake got married, you don't want your marriage to end this way."

"How can I stop him? If he wants another woman—"

Standing behind her, Sheila gripped Donna's shoulders. "He doesn't want another woman. He's upset and very angry. He's got some stupid idea that you're still in love with Edward Fields. He wants to hurt you as much as you've hurt him."

"I'd have to care about him for—"

Sheila squeezed Donna's shoulders. "Save the lies for yourself and Jake. You care about him and we both know it. The last thing you want is your husband spending the night with some floozie he picks up at the Pale Rider. People will find out and then they
will
talk."

"They're already talking, I'm sure, after the way he acted in front of my friends this afternoon. He was rude and vulgar and—"

"Go upstairs, change clothes and get your butt over to the Pale Rider," Sheila said. "I'll stay here with Louisa until you get home, no matter how late."

"I don't want him to do something else to embarrass me."

"Of course you don't, so go stop him."

"He is Louisa's father and he shouldn't be acting so irresponsibly, should he?" Donna's gaze questioned her friend.

"Justify your actions any way you need to, but go to the Pale Rider and get your man." Sheila jerked Donna up out of the chair and turned her toward the door leading into the hallway. "Put on a pair of tight jeans and a bright shirt and some dangling earrings and race your Vette over to that roadhouse and find Jake Bishop before some other woman tries to put her brand on him."

"I'm doing this for Louisa's sake," Donna said.

"Sure you are. Absolutely."

Jake sat at the bar, nursing his glass of whiskey. His third glass. Neat. He barely felt a buzz. It would take a lot more liquor to numb his senses and give him the release he needed. More than one woman had given him the eye since he'd walked into the Pale Rider. But he hadn't singled one out—not yet. He needed to be just a little drunker before he made his move. Drunk enough so that when he did take a woman in his arms, he wouldn't be able to distinguish the features of her face and wouldn't much notice that her hair wasn't a thick mahogany mane.

"Hello, good looking." The long-legged brunette at the end of the bar—the one who'd been trying to gain his attention—came up behind him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Want some company?"

He glanced over his shoulder. She was tall, slender and attractive in an obvious kind of way. Too much blue eye shadow. Too much blush. Hot pink lips and long, sharp, hot pink claws. Her silky blue blouse was unbuttoned enough to reveal the thrust of a pair of small, high breasts.

"Sure thing, su—honey. Have a seat." Jake patted the empty bar stool next to him. "Hey, bud," he called to the bartender, "give the lady a—what do you want?"

"Vodka and tonic." She sat on the stool and wrapped one long, slender leg around Jake's leg. "My name's Betsy. What's yours?"

"Ja—J.B."

The bartender set her drink down in front of her. Betsy lifted the glass and saluted Jake. "Here's to a good time tonight, J.B."

When she took a hefty swig of her drink, Jake lifted his glass and downed the rest of the whiskey, then motioned for the bartender to bring him a refill.

"How about a dance?" Betsy asked, rubbing her foot up and down Jake's leg.

Jake downed his fourth drink, then slid off the stool, grabbed the woman around the waist and led her onto the dance floor. She curled herself around him intimately and laid her head on his shoulder. He swayed with her to the boisterous country hit tune but his mind was elsewhere. In the past, if he'd been this close to a woman, he'd already have a hard-on by now.

Don't worry, he told himself. A few more drinks and it won't matter who she is.

"I don't live far from here," Betsy said. "And my old man's a trucker. He won't be back for a couple of days."

Her old man? She was married? As a general rule Jake didn't fool around with married women. But what the hell? He was a married man now, wasn't he? Maybe Betsy's husband didn't care who she slept with. He knew his wife sure as hell didn't care what he did or with whom he did it!

"Let's finish our dance and get a couple more drinks before we leave," Jake suggested.

"Sure thing, lover. Whatever you want."

Now, that's what he liked to hear from a woman—
whatever you want.
He was tired of playing games with his temporary wife. Tired of playing second fiddle to her dead husband. A man could take only so much before he had enough.

"I like a woman willing to give a man whatever he wants," Jake said.

"I'm your gal. Just ask around."

"I'll bet you're not the type to let a guy make love to you and then tell him to get lost, are you?"

"What happened, J.B., did you last girlfriend tell you she didn't want you anymore? If she did, she must have been nuts."

The music ended. Betsy turned, gripped Jake's hip and laughed. They took a couple of steps before Jake saw the redhead barreling down on them. Donna was headed straight for him. He blinked several times, thinking he was seeing things. What was Donna doing here? And why did she look mad as hell?

He'd never seen Donna in a pair of jeans. She looked as if she'd been melted and poured into the pair she wore tonight. And that bright yellow blouse she had on clung to her large breasts and hugged her small waist.

His sex hardened painfully. He cursed under his breath. No one else could do to him what she did. One look at Donna and he was crazy with desire.

Jake stopped dead-still on the dance floor and waited for his wife's approach. Betsy glanced questioningly at him, then followed his gaze toward the woman coming straight at them.

"Who's she?" Betsy asked.

"My wife."

"Get your hands off my husband," Donna told the other woman.

"Look, sister, all we was doing was dancing."

"And that's all you're going to do." Donna stuck her finger in Betsy's face. "I said, let go of him."

"Now, look here, just who do you think you are talking to me like that?" Betsy released her hold on Jake, took a step toward Donna and confronted her.

"I told you. I'm his wife."

Betsy grinned as she glanced at Jake. "So, is she the one who isn't willing to give you what you want?"

Jake's muddled brain registered that Donna was angry, that Betsy was taunting her, and that he was in big trouble. "Oh, she gave me what I wanted all right, but afterward, she kicked me out and told me she didn't want me anymore."

Donna's cheeks blazed crimson. "What did you tell this two-bit tramp about us?"

"Two-bit tramp!" Betsy shoved Donna. "You're an idiot. That's what you are, throwing out a man like J.B. Were you crazy?"

Donna shoved Betsy. "My marriage and my husband aren't any of your business, you skinny hussy."

"Well, let me tell you something, if you don't want J.B., I do!" Betsy shoved Donna again, then grabbed Jake's arm and gave Donna a triumphant look.

Temporarily unbalanced by Betsy's hard shove, Donna staggered backwards. She bumped into an empty table near the dance floor. Grasping the table's edge to steady herself, she noticed a mug of beer that had been left untouched. She grabbed the mug and stomped across the dance floor toward her husband and his dance partner. She jerked the woman from Jake's arms, lifted the mug and poured the beer over her head. Betsy spluttered and cursed as the golden brew dripped off her nose and glistened on her flushed face like yellow raindrops.

"Now you've done it, Jake Bishop! You've turned me into somebody I don't know—somebody capable of hunting my husband down at a sleazy honky-tonk and making a public spectacle of myself!"

Donna turned and ran.

"Are you all right?" Jake asked Betsy.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Betsy grinned as she wiped the beer from her face. "You'd better go after her, J.B. I think your wife still wants you."

"Yeah, I think she does."

Jake caught up with Donna in the parking lot. He grabbed her just as she opened the door to her Corvette. He whirled her around to face him.

"Calm down, sugar."

She fought him like a wildcat, flinging her arms, trying to escape his grasp. "I will not calm down! I hate you! Do you hear me? I hate you for making me act like a crazy woman."

"Why did you come after me?" He dragged her toward his Jeep.

"Don't ask me! I have no idea. Chalk it up to temporary insanity."

Jake shoved her up against the Jeep, pressed his body into hers and took her mouth in a wet, hard kiss. She struggled against him at first, but when he deepened the kiss, she responded. The kiss went on and on, until they were both breathless, then Jake eased his mouth from hers and buried his face against the swell of her breasts revealed by the vee of her blouse.

"You were going to have sex with that woman, weren't you! How could you, Jake! How could you!"

"No, sugar, you got it all wrong. What I found out tonight is that you are the only woman I can make love to now." He ground his arousal against her.

She moaned as Jake cupped her buttocks, tugged her up and into him and rubbed his hardness against her mound. Then he crushed his lips into hers. Standing on tiptoe, she flung her arms around him. He swept her off the ground, carried her around to the rear of the Jeep and unlocked the door. Still kissing her, he pushed her inside the back of the Jeep, then dove in beside her.

"What—what do you think you're doing?" she asked as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with undisguised passion as he unsnapped and unzipped her jeans.

Lifting her legs and tugging the jeans down her legs, he replied, "I'm going to make love to my wife."