His Unexpected Heir. Maureen Child

in action somewhere far away. What other reason, she’d told herself, could there have been for him not to write her?

      They’d had such an amazing connection. Something strong and powerful had grown between them in one short week. She’d loved him fiercely even after so short a time. But then her mother had always told her that time had nothing to do with love. If you knew someone five days or five years, the feelings didn’t change.

      It had taken Rita much less than five days to know that Jack was the one man she wanted. Then he was gone and the pain of loss had crippled her. Until she’d discovered she was pregnant.

      “He’s there?” Gina whispered as if somehow Jack could overhear her. “At your apartment?”

      “No,” she said, though she tossed a quick look toward the door at the back of the building that opened onto a staircase leading to a small parking lot. She half expected Jack to show up on her landing and knock. Shaking her head, she said, “No, he’s not here, here. He’s here in Seal Beach. He came into the bakery today.”

      “Oh. My. God.” A moment or two passed before Gina continued. “What did you do? What did he say? Where the hell has he been? Why didn’t he write to you? Bastard.”

      A short laugh shot from Rita’s throat. She heard the outrage in her sister’s voice and was grateful for it. How did anyone survive without a sister?

      “I nearly shrieked when I saw him,” Rita confessed. “Then I hugged him, damn it.”

      “Of course you hugged him,” Gina soothed. “Then did you kick him?”

      She laughed again. “No, but I wish I’d thought of it at the time.”

      “Well, if you need me, Jimmy can watch the kids for a few days. I’ll fly out there and kick him for you.”

      Rita sighed and smiled all at once. “I can always count on you, Gina.”

      “Of course you can. So where’s he been?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Why didn’t he write?”

      Rita frowned. “I don’t know.”

      “Well, what did he say?”

      Rita picked up her cup of herbal tea and took a sip. “He only wanted to talk about the baby.”

      “Oh, boy.”

      “Exactly.” Sighing more heavily now, Rita set the cup down on the coffee table again. “He was...surprised to find out I was pregnant and he didn’t look happy about it.”

      “We don’t need him to be happy. But why wouldn’t he be? Who doesn’t like babies? Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

      While she waited, Rita’s head dropped back against the couch. Her apartment wasn’t tiny, it was cozy, she thought in defense as her gaze swept over the space. A small living room, an efficiency kitchen, one bedroom and a bathroom that, she had to admit, was so small she regularly smacked her elbows against the shower door. But the apartment walls were a soft, cheerful green and were dotted by framed photos of the beach, the mountains and her family.

      “There,” Gina said when she was back. “I took the baby to Jimmy. I have to pace when I’m mad.”

      Rita laughed. “Gina, I’m okay, really. I just needed to talk to you.”

      “Of course you did, but we’re Italian and I need my hands to talk as much as I need to move around. Besides, I just finished feeding Kira. Jimmy can take her for a while.”

      Her sister had four gorgeous kids, the youngest only eight months old and a husband who adored her. A small pang of envy echoed in Rita’s heart. Then to ease the hurt, she rubbed the mound of her baby with slow, loving strokes, and reminded herself that she had a child, too. That she wasn’t alone. That it didn’t matter that Jack had walked away from her only to suddenly crash back into her life.

      “So,” Gina said a moment later, “what’re you going to do about this? How are you feeling?”

      “I’m not sure, to both questions.” Pushing up off the couch, Rita walked to the window overlooking Main Street and smiled, thinking Gina was right. Italians thought better when they could move around. Looking down on the street, she enjoyed the view that was so similar to the one she grew up with. Historic 25th Street in Ogden also had the old-fashioned, old-world feel to the buildings, the lampposts and the bright, jewel-toned flowers spilling out of baskets.

      But as pretty as it was, it wasn’t home. Not really. She was alone in the dark but for a slender thread of connection to her big sister.

      “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, “because I don’t know what he’s planning.”

      “Whatever it is, you can handle it.” And, as if Gina had read her mind, she added, “You’re not alone, Rita.”

      Her mouth curved slightly. “Not how it feels.”

      “You still love him, don’t you?”

      Rita laid her hand on the glass, letting the cold seep into her skin, chilling the rush of heat Gina’s question had awakened.

      “Why would I be foolish enough for that?” she whispered.