Her Baby's Father. Rebecca York
Afghanistan. The leg gives me some trouble. And don’t say you’re sorry.”
She laughed. “Yeah, let’s not make that the word of the day.”
He grinned at her. “Wine would help. One glass, and I’ll still be okay to drive.”
They had already exchanged a good deal of information in the car. At dinner they each ordered different dishes and had a taste of the other’s selection. Sara got the asparagus soup and lasagna, and Jack ordered the spinach salad and the shish kebab, all of which were excellent.
They kept the conversation light, discussing music they liked. She already knew his tastes, but it was fun talking to him about the Eagles, Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, Fleet-wood Mac.
Still, she felt tension gathering inside her as the meal drew to a close. She was waiting for two things–one of them good and one of them bad.
They were finishing a shared piece of key lime pie when Jack looked at his watch. “It’s after ten. You probably need to get some sleep.”
“I guess dinner woke me up. And the conversation. I was enjoying myself.”
“Me, too. But I’d better get you home. Especially since you have to drop me off first.”
“Right. I wasn’t thinking about that,” she lied. Of course she was thinking about it.
“Or I could call Ted.”
“Don’t bother him. Well, unless you live in the next county.”
“No. My address is actually Ellicott City. But not the old part.”
After he’d paid the bill, she felt a stab of disappointment. Last time…
Instead of standing up, he leaned toward her.
“I was thinking about your job.”
Her pulse started to pound.
“It’s not so different from an interior decorator,” he continued.
“Not exactly,” she felt duty bound to say.
“But close enough.” He cleared his throat. “Morgan Enterprises is planning to move to a new building. I was wondering if you might be interested in doing some of the decorating for us.”
She dragged in a breath, then let it out. “I’m overwhelmed. That’s a dream job for me. But are you sure the company would go along with it?”
“It’s my decision.” He laughed. “They’re trying to get me more involved. I’ll tell them what I saw that’s unique in your work, and why I think you’re the right person to hire.”
“Okay. Then yes.”
“You haven’t even asked what we’re paying.”
Because she already knew. She laughed. “Oh, right. What?”
He named a figure that would have made her blink if she hadn’t heard it before.
“That’s fantastic.”
“If you don’t have to work tomorrow, I can show you what we need done.”
“As far as I know, I’m free tomorrow,” she answered, feeling light-headed. She’d been afraid it wasn’t going to happen, but he’d asked her to work with him—which meant that they would be seeing a lot of each other.
“I’m glad that’s settled.” He stood, and she did, too.
He glanced around. “It looks like we’re closing up the restaurant.”
As they walked through the almost-empty establishment, she was thinking that the other test was coming up.
Patrick said goodbye and held the door open for them. Then they were on the street.
Sara kept her eyes open and her ears peeled for trouble. As they approached the car, she breathed out a little sigh.
It wasn’t the same.
She stole a glance at Jack as he reached to open the car door. She knew his expressions, and the look on his face told her that he was thinking about kissing her.
Which was fine with her. She’d been hoping for something like that all evening.
Then everything changed in an instant as a man stepped out from behind a parked car. A man holding a gun.
Chapter Four
Jack had spent the most enjoyable evening in recent memory, and he was thinking that it was only going to get better.
Then, in one of those terrifying moments that could change everything, a man with a gun stepped toward him. A guy about average height, with thinning dark hair.
Caught off guard, Jack grappled with the seismic shift, but Sara was already moving. From beside him, she leaped forward, swinging her purse like a bolo, using the strap that had held it on her shoulder. The heavy leather bag hit the man square in his pockmarked face, wringing a shocked exclamation from his lips.
As the purse dropped, he whirled toward Sara, his eyes fierce, his mouth bloody, and the gun pivoting in her direction. But Jack was already springing forward, plowing into the guy and knocking him backward against the fender of the car.
The man straightened and tried to retaliate with a head butt. But Jack dodged aside, making the guy lose his footing. Taking advantage of that, Jack stomped on the man’s gun hand. He screamed as the automatic went flying across the sidewalk.
A gun had made the guy brave. With the deadly weapon suddenly yards away on the sidewalk, his face became suffused with panic. In a desperate move, he reared at Jack, throwing him backward so that he landed against the exterior wall of the restaurant. With the breath knocked out of him, he struggled to stay on his feet, but his bad leg gave out from under him, and he toppled onto his butt, hitting the sidewalk with a teeth-rattling impact.
As the man dived for the gun again, Sara thrust out a foot and kicked the automatic off the curb and under a car.
“Bitch.” The man’s face was a study in anger, his hands curled into claws. Jack’s fear leaped into his throat, but as he struggled up, the man apparently decided to cut his losses. After one more angry look, he whirled away and ran, disappearing around a corner.
His own anger boiling over, Jack started after him, but Sara darted forward, grabbing his arm and holding him back.
“Don’t.”
He tried to wrench away, but she held fast.
“Let him go.”
Rage had fueled his aggressive instincts, but he knew that he had little chance of catching the guy. Not when his running speed had been cut substantially by his injury. Plus the attacker probably had mapped out an emergency escape route before the attack.
Still, he was torn between imperatives.
The door of the restaurant burst open, and Patrick stepped out, his gaze landing on them. “I heard a scuffle. What happened?”
“A guy tried to rob us,” Jack answered.
“I don’t know,” Sara mused.
Jack turned toward her, seeing the indecision on her face. “You don’t think it was a robbery? I mean, what else could it have been?”
She looked torn. “He didn’t ask for our money, did he?”
Jack laughed. “I guess he didn’t get a chance to. You hit him in the face with your purse.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s right,” she conceded.
“Fast thinking.”
“I took a self-defense course.”
“Don’t they advise you that it’s better to give up your wallet than get shot?”
“Yes.