Her Fill-In Fiancé. Stacy Connelly
“Maddie says there’s cake for dessert.”
Her mother followed a moment later. Far more perceptive than Sam—but who wasn’t?—she looked back and forth between Sophia and Jake. “Is everything all right?”
Jake gave an abrupt nod as he escaped from the kitchen. Meeting her mother’s puzzled look, Sophia forced a smile and said, “I’m, um, a little tired from the trip. I’d like to go lie down for awhile.”
“Oh, of course. Are your bags still in the car?”
“In the trunk,” she said.
“Sam, go get your sister’s luggage when you’re done in here.”
Backing out of the refrigerator with the sheet cake, Sam said, “Will do.”
Her mother linked her arm through Sophia’s. “Your room is ready. If you need anything—well,” she said with a smile, “you probably know where it is.”
The house where she’d grown up hadn’t changed that much over the years, and Sophia shouldn’t have been surprised when her mother opened the door to her bedroom. Stuck in a time warp from Sophia’s late teens, the room looked exactly as it had when she left. Same white wrought-iron day bed. Same rainbow of accent colors since she’d never been able to settle on just one or two—the candy-striped pink and white wallpaper, the lilac shag area rug, the powder-blue comforter and vast array of throw pillows. She’d painted the furniture herself, taking the dresser and nightstand from plain white to wild mixes of polka dots, stripes, hearts and flowers.
Seeing it all, Sophia couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat, but there was so much she wanted to say, so many explanations, so many apologies …
But Vanessa said the only words that mattered. “We’ve missed you, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re home.”
Surrounded by her childhood things and the unconditional love shining in her mother’s eyes, the truth about the baby, about her job, about Jake bubbled up. “Mom—”
“I see you still haven’t learned to pack light,” Sam remarked as he shouldered his way into the room, two suitcases in hand and one tucked beneath his arm like a football.
The opportunity to tell the truth dissipated like smoke, leaving behind only a hint of the chance she’d let slip by, and Sophia forced a smile at her brother. She’d brought almost everything she owned, unsure from day to day what clothes would still fit over her gradually expanding belly.
As soon as Sam swung the suitcases onto the bed, Vanessa said, “And let Jake know his room is ready, too, would you?”
Sophia froze in shock. “Jake? Jake’s staying here?”
“Well, of course, dear,” her mother said with a frown. “You didn’t think we’d expect him to take a room in town, did you?”
Sophia swallowed a lump of nerves. Keeping up the charade might have been Jake’s idea, but she’d agreed to it, hadn’t she? A pretend boyfriend was one thing. But how on earth was she supposed to handle the real Jake Cameron sleeping under the same roof only a few doors away?
Chapter Three
Why would you do this?
Jake’s hands tightened on the back porch railing as Sophia’s words echoed through his thoughts. He wondered what her reaction would have been if he’d told her the truth.
He missed her. He missed her laughter, her smile, and that he’d considered admitting that, even for a split second, told Jake he was already in over his head.
He’d made the biggest mistake an investigator could—he’d gotten too close to the subject. He knew better than to let emotions rule his actions. Logic and patience and detached observation had made him a good private investigator, but for the second job in a row, he’d rushed in without thinking. His body was still healing from the painful lessons he’d learned in Mexico while the damage done in St. Louis … those wounds were harder to define, but they’d left him reeling. Especially since he still didn’t know how Sophia had sneaked past his defenses.
Was it the evening they’d ended up missing their dinner reservation when she saw a small school carnival and wanted to stop? How she’d egged him on as he spent over twenty bucks popping balloons to win her a palm-sized stuffed unicorn? Was it the Cardinals game they went to and the thirty-minute rain delay they spent huddled beneath a shared umbrella, talking and laughing? Normal, everyday activities that made life—made him—feel normal again …
Or had it happened so much sooner than that? The night they first met, when he’d wrestled her bag away from a purse snatcher. He’d ended up with some scrapes on his hand, minor cuts Sophia had insisted on bandaging. The scratches had long since healed, but the soft brush of her skin against his lingered …
Jake let go of the railing and shoved his hands into his back pockets. It didn’t really matter how or when it had happened. Only that he couldn’t let Sophia crawl any deeper into his heart.
When Sophia told him she was pregnant with Todd Dunworthy’s child, Jake had felt like the cruel hand of fate was trying to shove him down a rocky, heaving path, but it was a road he refused to go down again. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
Even as he’d listened to Sophia talk about the father of her child—a nameless, faceless nonentity—unwanted memories of Mollie and Josh had crept in. Regret and failure clenched at his gut. It was enough to make Jake feel like less than nothing. Which was exactly what he’d ended up being to Josh despite his best attempts.
The back door opened behind him, and Sam said, “Hey, we’ve got dessert ready if Drew and Nick didn’t already eat it all.”
He wasn’t in the mood to eat or even to join the Pirelli family without Sophia at the table. He was glad when Sam added, “And my mom wanted me to tell you your room’s ready if you want to bring your stuff in from the car.”
The elder Pirellis had made the offer as soon as he arrived, but he’d expected to leave once Sophia showed up. Now, though, he forced himself to accept that he was going to stay. He owed this to Sophia.
If his presence made it easier for her to tell her parents about the baby, then he could stay a day or two. Just to make sure everything was all right and that Sophia was once again safely ensconced in the heart of her family.
After several sleepless nights leading up to her trip home, not to mention tossing and turning in unfamiliar hotel beds while on the road, Sophia expected to curl up into her old twin bed and fall asleep the second her head hit the floral-patterned pillow.
Instead, she found herself staring at the ceiling. Even her recent, slightly silly habit of singing lullabies beneath her breath to her unborn baby hadn’t relaxed her. The excitement of the day had simply caught up with her; little wonder she couldn’t sleep.
And Jake Cameron lying in bed down the hall has nothing to do with it, her conscience mocked.
“Oh, hush,” she muttered to the voice that hadn’t stopped harping at her all evening. Tossing aside the covers, she decided a glass of warm milk would be just the thing to quiet the annoying voice and send her right to sleep.
She’d never cared much for milk, but Theresa had frequently pressed a cold glass or warm mug into her hand. “Milk,” her cousin quipped, “it does a baby good.”
And Sophia was willing to do whatever it took to keep her baby healthy and happy.
A nightlight in the hall lit the way to the kitchen. She could have made it in total darkness, and Sophia had to admit the familiarity gave her a sense of comfort she hadn’t felt in years. But the feeling disappeared as she hurried by the closed guest room door.
She didn’t need to think about Jake sprawled out across a queen bed that was likely too short for his long, lean frame …
Banishing the image from her mind, she rushed