Made in Heaven E-Book

May McGoldrick

• Herausgeber: Book Duo Creative
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 477

Beschreibung

 A romantic tale of love lost...and love found!  Meg Murphy, a soon-to-be former editor at a closing Boston publishing firm, is on her way to the resort town of Newport, Rhode Island, where she and her husband Robert have vacationed together for years. Robert, unfortunately, is dead. Meg is at a crossroads in her life. Robert died suddenly five years earlier, and although she has accepted his death--or so she has said to any number of therapists and friends--she lives for the fantasy of this anniversary trip. This year, however, her ghostly husband is telling her it's time to call it quits. Nothing in Newport goes as planned. Meg immediately crosses paths with a gruff and handsome cab driver named Evan Knight. Unknown to her, Evan is actually a bestselling fiction writer of reality-based novels. To research his stories, Evan always goes undercover, and this time he's living the life of a taxi driver. The last thing Evan wants is a relationship that will interfere with his carefully constructed life. The last thing Meg wants is a relationship with someone new. Robert, however, has other plans…

Leseprobe

MADE IN HEAVEN

MAY MCGOLDRICK

Book Duo Creative

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Edition Note

Author’s Note

Preview of THANKSGIVING IN CONNECTICUT

Also by May McGoldrick, Jan Coffey & Nik James

About the Author

Thank you for reading. In the event that you appreciate this book, please consider sharing the good word(s) by leaving a review, or connect with the authors.

Made in Heaven © 2010 by Nikoo and James A. McGoldrick

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher: Book Duo Creative.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by - Covered by Melinda

CHAPTERONE

Newport, Rhode Island

September 1995

Evan Knight parked his cab in front of the three-story apartment building and got out of the car. Moving around to open the trunk, he stepped over a pile of broken bottles and empty beer cans that lay beside an overflowing dumpster.

They had been at the hospital for nearly eight hours. Eight hours of pacing the halls and sitting in a lime green waiting room only to be told that it wasn’t time yet. He opened the trunk and took out Jada’s frayed canvas backpack. Evan frowned at it, thinking that not nine months ago the girl had stored her school books in there instead of clothing for a baby that she didn’t even want.

He slammed the trunk shut and stalked around the car to get her out. Jada already had the door open, but she was just too big and tired to haul herself out. He took her gently by the hands and let her pull herself to her feet. It was then that he saw the tears on her round face.

“I’m sorry, Evan. I am so sorry. I was...” She began to sob silently, and he gathered her to his chest.

“Don’t be, Jada. Don’t be.”

As he ran a comforting hand over her back, he glared at two goggle-eyed punks walking by. He didn’t think he’d ever face a teenager in this town again without wondering if the kid might be the father of Jada’s baby. No matter what the girl’s father had threatened, she had been determined not to name the boy. “I was so scared last night. I was sure the baby was coming.”

“It’s okay, honey. That woman doctor said this is very common with first-time mothers.” He took out a tissue from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to her. First-time mother, he repeated silently, gritting his teeth. And only fifteen. A child herself.

“I wish daddy was back. Then you wouldn’t have to be bothered with me in the middle of the night.”

“You’re no bother.” He pushed her away slightly until he could look into her still teary eyes. “I don’t care what time of the day it is. Until your father gets back, you call me, and I’ll take you to the hospital. The doctor said you’re getting really close. It could be any time.”

He didn’t let go of his grip until she nodded.

“You’ve got the cell phone number, right?”

“I’ve got it.”

“Okay,” he said gruffly, steering her toward the graffiti-covered door of the building. “I’ve got to pick up that Bellevue Avenue fare they just buzzed me on, but you call if you need me.”

When Jada was safely inside and old Mrs. Jeffers, the warm-hearted neighbor from the next apartment, had taken charge, Evan trotted back out to the cab. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he thought about how much Ted, Jada’s father, would want to be here for this. Well, he should be back any day now, Evan thought. A fisherman’s got to make his living while the weather’s good.

Raking a hand through his wavy brown hair, Evan turned onto Bellevue before calling in his route. As traffic slowed, he gazed absently at one of the mansions through a twelve-foot iron gate, and thought of Jada, her legs wobbling as he walked her into the hospital last night. She’d been in pain, and so frightened. And he’d been unprepared. Totally useless. He hadn’t known what to say or what to do. Like the walking dead, he’d just paced the halls of that hospital for hours and waited.

Next time, though, he’d do better, he promised himself. Next time, he’d support her the way her father would.

Through the rear window of the car in front of him, Evan watched three teenage boys laughing. The one in the back seat lit a cigarette and glanced back at the taxi.

My God, Evan thought, he’d been a teenager himself once, and a wild one, at that. But he didn’t think he’d ever acted carelessly when it came to taking care of his partner. He wondered who the hell the father of Jada’s baby was. No doubt, a lowlife scum to hit on a bright-faced innocent like her. The kid must have seen her start to show before she quit school in the spring.

Evan brought the cab to a stop in front of the closed gates of the fenced-in mansion and announced his arrival through the intercom. A moment later, as the gates opened, he started along the tree-lined driveway leading to the rambling stone house. Unimpressed, he muttered under his breath and pulled up to the porch. Getting out of the car, he opened the trunk for an irritableservant with a suitcasein hand.

“You’ll be taking the young Mr. Rand to the Kingston train station. He’s got to make the 3:26 train to New York. Here is the money for the fair, and you can keep the change.”

Without looking, Evan took the money from the man and stuffed it deep into his pocket.

“You’re late,” the man pressed. “We were afraid you weren’t going to make it in time to⁠—”

“I am here, aren’t I?” Evan snapped. “But how the hell am I going to get young Mr. Rand’s ass to that station in time if he isn’t ready to go?”

The servant’s face turned crimson, but before he could say anything, a lanky young man hurried down the stone steps, and Evan slammed the trunk shut.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I’m ready.”

Without sparing a second look at the teenager, Evan climbed into the cab and called in his destination. The front door of the cab opened, and his passenger got in beside him.

“Ready,” the young man whispered to himself.

In a few minutes they were making their way through the downtown traffic, and Evan’s mind again returned to Jada and what he could do to help her through this. She would not accept any charity. That’s the way Ted had raised her. But there had to be a way that he could make things a little bit easier for her and for the baby.

His passenger’s voice broke into his thoughts. “It’s nice to get the town back from the tourists.”

Evan made an incoherent sound and went back to ignoring him.

“Once we got stuck for two hours in the traffic on America’s Cup Avenue right by the army-navy store. We had the limo, though, so it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was amazing to just sit here and see so many different kinds of people just go by.”

“What the hell do you know about kinds of people?”

“Hey, I go to school. I used to go to the Priory School here.”

“And you never hung out downtown?” Evan looked out the window disgustedly.

“Nah, I couldn’t. Besides, I’m going to a new school now. In New York.”

“So what happened?” Evan snapped. “Your daddy thought your blue blood would discolor, mixing with the poor kids here? Or did he get upset because somebody spit on the limo?”

The young man blushed and stared straight ahead.

The cell phone rang, and Evan answered it. “Jada?”

“No, it’s Henry. But I’m pleased to hear there’s a Jada.”

Evan paused and took a look at the kid sitting next to him. Young Mr. Rand was staring curiously at him. Evan reached down and clicked on the radio in the cab before talking into the phone.

“What the hell are you doing calling me at this number?”

“Dammit, I’ve tried everything else. You don’t read your e-mail. You don’t use an answering machine, and you’re never home to answer your phone.”

“So?”

“So do I have to drag my butt all the way from New York to Newport just to talk to you?”

“You do that, Henry, and I’ll throw you right off the bridge.” Evan looked out of his side window as the cab sped onto the suspension bridge. “Over two hundred feet from the top to the sparkling blue Narragansett Bay. It’s sure to kill you.”

“You can’t scare me off that easy. Besides, there are probably sharks down there who’d treat me better than you do. Are you working?”

Evan reached down and turned up the volume of the radio.

“I can’t hear you,” Henry shouted. “Turn that damn thing off.”

Evan rolled down his window.

“Where the hell are you? Is that a wind tunnel?”

“Yeah. And it’s just about to tear the phone right out of my hand.”

“Don’t you dare, Evan Knight, or I swear on my dead mother’s grave that I’ll be sitting on your doorstep by nightfall.”

“Now that’s a terrifying thought. But don’t do it, Henry. I’ve got a frigging reputation in the neighborhood.” With a crooked smirk, he turned down the radio a bit. “You’ll just ruin it.”

“Are you working, Evan?”

“I am. I’m working right now.”

“Then show me the proof. I haven’t seen anything.”

“What, my word’s not good enough?” He placed the phone against his shoulder and turned to the kid next to him. “What’s your name?”

“Matthew. Matthew Rand.”

“Tell my boss here that I am working.”

Matthew leaned over and spoke in the receiver. “Hi. I’m Matthew, and he is working.”

Evan then brought the cab to a halt at the toll booth and held the phone out to the attendant. “Hey, Raz, I’ve got my boss on the line. Tell him I am working.”

“Your boss?” the man snickered.

“Do it, and it’s good for drink on me at the Pub.”

The man grabbed the phone out of Evan’s hand. “Hello. This is Raz O’Shea. No, I’m a toll collector for the Newport Bridge Authority, and Mr. Knight is working.”

Evan yanked the phone back and threw Raz a salute before driving off. “See? I have witnesses. I’m working.”

“Don’t do this to me, Evan.”

“Excuse me, Henry. A pressing matter.” He turned to Matthew. “What time is your train?”

“Three twenty-six.”

“Sorry, Henry. We’re late. Gotta go.”

“Don’t!” Henry shouted. “For God’s sake, you are no cab driver. I am your agent, and you’re Drew...”

Evan turned off the phone and stuffed it back in his pocket. “I really hate middle management.”

CHAPTERTWO

As the train picked up a few more passengers in Providence, Meg gazed out the window at the renovated downtown area. What had a few years ago looked like a war zone, now looked like a cosmopolitan urban center. Beneath a raised street, she could see people strolling and lounging along cobblestone walks that bordered the river. Where the waterway opened into a small lagoon, an older man and a child could be seen enjoying the afternoon sun in a paddleboat. On the far side, Meg could see a painter at work at a small easel, and a young couple—arms around one another—were looking over his shoulder.

That could be you, you know.

Meg started at the sound of Robert’s voice.

You are missing out on life.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me?” The man in the seat across was looking at her over the tops of his reading glasses. “Are you talking to me?”

“No.” Meg blushed. “Just...just thinking out loud.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t get me into trouble, now,” Meg whispered.

It’s time, Meg. You’ve got a life to be living, and I’ve got to be moving on.

“Robert, now is not the time.”

The newspaper rustled across the way, but Meg had a distinct feeling that a pair of eyes were glued on her.

This is it, Meg. Last year, I tried to explain it to you, but you wouldn’t listen.

“You were wrong, and I was right,” she whispered. “You’re back in spite of what you told me.”

“Ahem.” The man across the way leaned forward in his seat. “Are you certain everything is all right?”

“Haven’t you ever seen anybody talk to herself?”

She sounded snappish, but she didn’t care. And her fellow traveler did crawl behind his paper again.

Well, you can believe what you want. But I am telling you that the time has come for me to go. In fact, I’m down here this year on another matter. There’s someone⁠—

“I knew it. You are seeing somebody else.” Meg scowled playfully. “After fifteen years of marriage.”

Ten.

“Fifteen.”

The last five don’t count. You forget, I’ve been dead.

“Not to me, you haven’t. This is the same anniversary getaway we’ve been going on for the last fifteen years. I don’t care what you say, you’re still a married man.”

“Divorced?”

“Stay out of this,” Meg ordered at the eyes peering at her over the newspaper.

Death did us part. My ticket’s punched, expired, gone.

“I’m not going to discuss this now,” Meg whispered, watching another traveler take the seat beside the busybody across the way.

This time you have to, Meg. There is no other way. It’s been selfish of me to drag it out this long. If I’d just gone away, the way most others do, then you wouldn’t be in the predicament you’re in now. You have to make a change in your life. It’s time.

“There is nothing wrong with my life.”

“Pardon me?”

“She likes to talk to herself.”

“Oh. One of those.”

“It’s great. Just listen.” The man lowered his voice behind the paper. “She is practicing for a fight with her husband. He’s screwing around. His name is Robert, and it looks like he’s getting ready to dump her.”

“Ahem.” Meg threw an irritated glare at the Nosy Parkers across the way, letting them know that she’d heard every word.

You see, you’re making a spectacle of yourself.

“I am not.”

Yes, you are. Everyone who knows you, feels sorry for you. Your friends, your mother—even old Joe E, your boss. You’ve no social life, whatsoever. In the five years since I died, you’ve done nothing for yourself.

“I’ve been busy. Working.”

At a dead-end job. No pun intended. Meg, you have talent, energy, gumption. But you are putting it all to waste. You are young and beautiful. You should be living your life to the fullest.

“I am middle-aged. For God’s sake, I’m thirty-five.”

“That’s young.”

The newspaper rustled in agreement. “Very young.”

Meg stared in disbelief at the two men eyeing her with concern. They had clearly given up all pretense of hiding their interest.

See, take it from the living, if you don’t believe me. It’s unhealthy, Meg. Going this long without⁠—

“Don’t say it.”

Sex.

She pushed back her head against the chair and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe you said it.”

You’re blushing, Meg.

“How the hell would you know? You keep telling me you’re dead.”

“Are you all right, miss? You’re awfully flushed. Are you feverish?”

She opened her eyes and found herself looking into the face of another new arrival looking at her from the seat next to her.

“What are you, a doctor?”

“Uh, yes I am. I heard you talking to yourself and then...”

“She likes to talk to herself.”

Meg turned and glared again across the way. The reading glasses were now off, and he was folding the paper in his lap.

“She’s under some stress. She’s had a fight with her husband.”

“He’s a jerk,” the other passenger chirped. “You know. Screwing around.”

“We think he’s already left her,” the newspaper cut in.

“Excuse me, I’m a lawyer and couldn’t help but overhear the discussion.” Meg turned and gaped dumbfounded at the man half-standing on the seat behind her. “Here is my business card. The fact that your husband has had multiple affairs...”

The conductor pushed open the door and stepped into the car. “Kingston, next stop. Kingston.”

“Thanks,” she said to him, hurriedly coming to her feet. “Not a moment too soon.”

Climbing out of her seat and into the aisle, she tried to ignore the numerous heads that were turned at her direction. As she put her briefcase on the floor, a platinum-blond woman put a hand on her arm.

“I’ve been married three times, honey. After the first one dumped me, I said fool me once, but⁠—”

“Sorry. Have to go,” Meg blurted as cheerily as she could, reaching up to take down her traveling bag. Three men and a newspaper stood up to help her.

Forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace, she took the bag and started up the aisle. “Thanks, Robert. That was just great.”

Sweetheart, this is only the beginning.

* * *

Just as the cab crunched to a stop in the gravel parking lot, the station’s lone, outside speaker blared out.

“Arriving from Boston, Providence. Stopping at Westerly, New London...”

“We made it. Thanks for the ride.”

“It’s okay,” Evan mumbled, climbing out of the car and moving around to open the trunk.

“So do you stick around and wait now?”

“No.” He glared and dropped the kid’s suitcase unceremoniously on the platform.

“I don’t get back to Newport very much anymore. I was only supposed to come up for the weekend, this time. But I caught a bug or something, so I ended up staying longer. But maybe I’ll see you around next time.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

The whistle blast from the arriving train drowned out his words. Evan closed the trunk as he watched the kid turn and go stand in line with other passengers. He’d been short and impatient. But how could he be anything else, considering all he had on his mind?

He glanced again at young Matthew Rand. Dressed in his preppy clothes, his suitcase between his feet, he was already chatting with a couple of people and waiting for passengers to disembark. Caught a bug. He didn’t have a care in the world. Everything was taken care of for him. So unlike Jada.

Shaking his head, he climbed into the cab. A half dozen arriving passengers were already trickling into the parking lot. Opening the dash, he checked the phone again. It was on. Jada wouldn’t do anything stupid, like not calling him. No, one thing that girl had was a brain. What she lacked in experience, she was picking up too quick.

“Wakefield?”

“No,” he barked without even turning to look.

Two businessmen huffed off.

Evan jammed the key into the ignition.

“How about Narragansett?”

“No.” This time he turned and glared at the three college-age girls peering through the window. “Look at the side. N-E-W-P-O-R-T. Yellow cab. Do you want me to sound it out?”

“What a jerk,” one of them crabbed, taking a step back.

“But cute,” the other one whispered. “Did you see those eyelashes?”

Evan closed his eyes, shaking his head in disgust. Christ, they’re getting dumber every year.

Just then the back door of the cab opened, and someone started to get in.

“Look, I’m not going to Wakefield. And I’m not going to Narragansett. And I’m not going to the goddamn North Pole.”

Evan turned, prepared to continue, but the words stuck in his craw as he looked past a pair of wire-rimmed eyeglasses into the deepest, prettiest brown eyes he’d seen in a long time.

“Yes, I know. You’re going to Newport.” She smiled. “I can spell.”

CHAPTERTHREE

Asthe cab sped down the long incline of the new bridge, Meg gazed out the window at the remains of the ancient bridge that sat on the western end of it. The old Jamestown Bridge had been a decrepit, rusted, two-lane thing with gaping cracks in the cement pilings. Most of the structure had been taken down few years ago. The short stretch left was used as a fishing pier.

Meg looked ahead at the island in front of them. The hilly ridge that ran straight up the center of it was a patchwork of fields bordered with crumbling stone walls, dotted with old farmhouses and new developments. Beyond the island, through the bright afternoon haze, she could see the graceful tops of the Newport Bridge.

She craned her neck and took another look at what was left of the old bridge and the shimmering waters of the Narragansett Bay.

Aren’t you glad that the old eyesore is gone?

She wasn’t going to make another spectacle of herself, so she decided to ignore Robert’s voice.

The old has to give way to the new. The dead to the living.

She turned her face out at the direction of other window and started counting the number of cars passing by.

You can’t ignore it, Meg. I’m vapor, he is flesh. I am dead, he is alive.

“Who?” she asked irritably, looking around.

The taxi cab driver. Look at his name tag. Evan Knight. A good strong name.

Meg shook her head and peered out the front windshield as the two lanes of traffic suddenly slowed considerably.

A good-looking man. Strong jaw. Keen eyes. Needs a hair-cut, but⁠—

“Go away,” she snapped.

“Talking to me?” the driver asked adjusting his driver’s mirror so he could see her face.

Hazel eyes. Meg, look at those eyelashes.

Meg pushed up her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “No. I mean yes. I said we aren’t going...away. I mean, going a way I know very well.”

Introduce yourself, Meg.

She ground her teeth and tried to keep calm.

A bit of small talk. It’s not so difficult. Do it, Meg.

She pulled her briefcase onto her lap and pretended to rummage through it.

Do you want me to start something up?

“Leave it, Robert,” she snapped under her breath.

“Something wrong?”

Meg peeked from behind her briefcase at the man behind the wheel. The traffic had come to a full stop, so it seemed there would be no escaping her meddling husband or the cool eyes of the driver.

“I was just talking to my...” She stopped herself. She was sick of people looking at her like she was some lunatic just out the bin for the day. “I just realized I left a book on the train.”

“You said something else. Rob⁠—”

“Robber,” she added quickly. “I was wondering if a robber could have taken it.”

“Robber. Interesting. A train robber.”

When she saw the way he rolled his eyes, she had to fight back an urge to reach forward and smack him on the back of the head.

Very good, Meg. You’re really off to a great start.

She closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself against getting riled by her husband’s antics. When she opened them, the driver’s eyes flicked away from her face. He had definitely been staring at her. Slowly the traffic inched over the crest of the hill, and Meg could see the cars backed up all the way to the Newport Bridge.

“We don’t seem to be moving, are we?”

Frowning into the rearview mirror at her, the driver pointed at the bridge. “Do you see the lights flashing just about halfway across? Accident.”

“You mean we’re stuck here?”

“This particular model cab isn’t equipped with pontoons.”

“Isn’t there a short cut?”

The blue green eyes stared at her beneath furrowed brows. “Sure. We can cut across the median, drive all the way to Providence, fight through the traffic there, and come down the other side of the Bay. It should take about three hours at this time of day.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“So was I,” he said.

There was a moment of silence as the driver raked his hand through his hair and looked at his watch. “It shouldn’t take them too long to clear the mess.”

“Well, it’s a pretty view. I guess I really don’t mind waiting.”

He rolled down his window, and the salt breeze swept through the cab.

“Do you come here often?” he asked.

She had to go back in her memory a few years, but that sounded like a pickup line.

“Once a year.”

“Business? Or a little ‘R and R’?”

“A bit of both.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, Meg quickly reminded herself. She had a briefcase full of manuscripts to read. She knew it would sound a little bit morbid to say she was here for a vacation with her dead husband. And there was no way she was going to give this guy the impression that she was here all alone.

“Well, it’s a good time of the year to be here.”

She just nodded and fell silent, sending thanks heavenward that Robert had decided to cut her a break. She placed the briefcase back on the floor next to her feet, double-checked the handle to her traveling bag, and—with great care—picked a speck of lint off her dress pants. Meg did anything and everything but look up and return the driver’s gaze. She knew he was watching her, and that somehow flustered her.

“Well, looks like things are clearing up there.”

She let out a breath of relief as the cab started moving again.

A moment later, as they left the toll booth Meg saw the driver answer his cell phone.

“Jada.”

A Volvo cut in front of the cab, and Meg was thrown forward as the driver slammed on his brakes, simultaneously jamming his hand on the horn.

“What’s wrong, Jada? I can’t hear you.”

Meg reached for the door grip as the cab swerved suddenly into the faster moving left lane. The driver gunned it, and the vehicle shot forward.

“You are in labor now? I’ll be there in less than a half an hour.”

She knew it was none of her business, but still she couldn’t help but overhear.

“What do you mean, that’ll be too late? What? You broke your water when?”

Meg put a hand on the back of the front seat, wedging herself in as the cab cut into the oncoming traffic lane for the length of a few cars and then swerved back into their own lane. She glanced on the seat in vain for a seatbelt.

“You’re bleeding? Christ. Where’s Mrs. Jeffers? What? Have you called the doctor? Call 911.”

Meg sat forward in her seat, her eyes flitting back and forth from the road to the driver’s profile.

“Don’t cry, honey. Fine. Tell Mrs...Yeah, I’ll be there. Yeah. I’m coming now. Right now.”

Meg watched him throw the phone on the seat.

“I have an emergency.”

“I understand,” she said quickly.

He punched the button for his emergency flashers and pulled out again into the line of oncoming traffic. Meg’s knuckles went white on the door handle.

“I don’t have enough time to take you to the Inn. I won’t even have enough time to drop you at the Visitor’s Center. Get over, you sonovabitch.”

“It’s okay,” she said, wincing as a van squeezed over just in time to avoid a head on collision. “Just...just do what you have to do. I’ll call for a cab at the hospital.”

“Right. But we’ve got one stop first.”

“Fine,” she said weakly, bouncing to one end of the seat as the cab cut across three lanes of traffic onto the exit ramp.

The Indy 500 had nothing on that quick trip through the narrow, back streets of Newport. Not the way this man drove. In the space of about a minute, Meg lost count of how many stop signs he’d run and decided it would be more in her interest to focus on keeping herself from getting thrown around like a sack of potatoes in the back seat. But nothing could prepare her for the final bank shot into a parking lot and the screeching stop. Her head practically came off its hinges before hitting the floor of the cab.

“You okay?”

With her butt in the air in the back seat, she rubbed her neck and looked into his face. “I think so.”

“Good,” he said, throwing open his door. Meg heard the trunk pop open. “Then throw your stuff in back. I’ll get Jada. She’ll be more comfortable sitting with you.”

“Safer, anyway.”

He grunted something unintelligible and hopped out of the cab.

It took Meg a moment to clear her head. Looking in the direction that the driver had sprinted, she saw him yank open a graffiti covered door of an apartment building. As the door swung wide, an elderly lady with a pair of toddlers hanging onto her skirts stepped out, holding the arm of a very pregnant young woman. Meg sprang into action.

She had all her stuff in the trunk and was standing holding open the door of the cab by the time they reached it.

“Do you want me to come with you, Jada?” the old woman asked anxiously, with a quick look at the two little ones now eyeing the action from the doorway.

“No. I’ll be...”

Meg watched helplessly as the young woman grabbed at the door with one hand and her belly with the other. Her face drained of all color as she gasped for breath.

“What’s wrong?” the driver asked.

Meg had seen enough movies to know what was happening. “She’s having contractions.”

“Do you know what to do?”

She looked into Jada’s face and nodded quickly. “Yeah. Get her to the hospital. Now!”

Once the contraction passed and the young woman had been eased into the back seat, the cab took off like a bolt of lightning.

Meg held onto the pregnant woman’s hand and looked at her with concern. Jada’s head was now lying against Meg’s shoulder, and a strange and precious feeling washed through her as the cab sped toward the hospital—the feeling that she was needed by this stranger. She stroked the soft hands and whispered words of comfort in her ear.

She was so young. Too young, Meg thought, glowering at the driver as he pulled another of his driving stunts, cutting around traffic stopped at a red light.

“I’m scared,” Jada whispered quietly.

“I don’t blame you, sweetheart, but you’ll be just fine.” Meg put her arm around her shoulder. “Everything will be just fine.”

Meg looked up when she heard the driver on the phone with the hospital.

“It hurts. It hurts so much.” Jada held her breath and twisted in obvious pain. “It’s starting again.”

Meg remembered something about timing the contractions and quickly glanced at her watch. The last one couldn’t have been more than two minutes earlier. She frowned, wishing she knew if that was good or bad. “Breathe. Breathe.”

The pain seemed to lessen in about a minute and Jada opened her eyes. “I’m bleeding,” she whispered. “I think I’m going to lose the baby.”

Meg wiped the young woman's tears. Looking down, she could see traces of a dark stain on the hem of her long blouse. If it was blood, there wasn’t very much of it.

“Everything will be okay. Just try to relax, Jada. We’ll be at the hospital soon.”

“Don’t leave me.” She clutched tighter to Meg’s hand. “I’m so scared. Please.”

Meg looked up and found the driver’s piercing eyes on her.

“We’re almost there,” he said quietly.

She nodded and looked again at Jada.

“It’s coming again.” This time she moaned out loud. “Oh, God. It hurts so much. It hurts!”

Twominutes between the contractions now. “Breathe.”

“Please. Please don’t leave me.I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid.”

Meg looked down at the contrast of Jada’s pale face against her silky dark hair. There was a thin film of sweat appearing on the fair skin of her forehead.She looked young, fragile, and her eyes were wild with panic. The cab screeched up to the E.R. doors.

“I won’t leave you, Jada.” Meg promised quietly. “I promise.”

CHAPTERFOUR

Evan grimaced at the terrible taste of the coffee. Holding the steaming paper cup in one hand, he headed back through the gray doors to the waiting area. Three hours of pacing were starting to take their toll on him, and he leaned wearily against a lime green wall.

When they’d arrived, Jada had been rushed into the delivery room after the briefest examination. And to his great relief, the woman—his passenger—had gone in there with her. Evan realized that he didn’t even know her name.

He’d told himself this noon that he’d be ready. That he’d try to do better when the next time came. But faced with Jada’s pain and her near hysteria, he’d proved to be an even bigger dope than he was last night. Struck speechless by the whole thing, all he’d been able to do was to drive like a maniac and get her here, but beyond that, he’d really offered no support at all. Some father stand-in he was turning out to be.

He shook his head. Someone up there must have been watching over this little girl to send someone like this woman to help out. Whoever she was, she seemed to know what she was doing; her confidence had really helped keep Jada calm. Funny, though, she’d looked kind of pale, too, before disappearing into the delivery room.

Evan’s mind returned to Jada and how exhausted she must be by now. They had both been up for most of the night and all day today. He wasn’t nine months pregnant, but he still felt like crap. Glancing over at a receptionist who was hurriedly typing away on a computer, he wondered if he could risk approaching her again. It had to be at least half an hour since he’d last checked with her.

Before he had taken two steps in the direction of the desk, he saw the double doors open and a rather pale ex-passenger step through.

He changed course and walked toward her, instead.

“Is she still in labor?”

“No,” she said somewhat testily. “They’re finishing up with Jada and the baby now, but she wanted you to know that it’s a boy.”

Even with her glasses on, he could see the dark circles under her eyes. She looked spent.

“That’s great.” he said excitedly. “Is she okay, then?”

“Is she okay?” She took a step closer to him. “Like you care if she is okay.”

Evan frowned and then stared in disbelief as she suddenly erupted.

“How could you be such an insensitive ass? You just stand here and sip your coffee, Mr. Cool, and ask if she’s okay?”

“What?” he asked uncomprehendingly, frowning in the direction of the receptionist who was eyeing them with amusement.

She shoved his hand and spilled the hot coffee down the front of his shirt.

“Damn it. What’s the matter with you?”

“She’s fifteen, for God’s sake! But I have to hear it from one of the nurses. Fifteen.”

He pulled the shirt away from his skin and glared back at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman behind the desk pick up a phone.

“You are mad at me because I didn’t tell you her age?”

“You’re an idiot on top of being an ass!” She shoved him hard in the chest with both hands. “You should be taken out and shot.”

He couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Now wait a minute. That seems like too severe a punishment, don’t you think?”

“You think it’s funny?” She let out a frustrated breath. She poked a finger threateningly into his chest. “I know there has to be a law in this state that will take care of you. See how funny you think this is from jail. You’ll be⁠—”

“Mr. Knight?”

Evan took hold of her wrist, forcing it away from his chest. He turned toward the woman who had just came in through the double doors.

“Dr. Patton,” he acknowledged, remembering her name from this morning.

“I assume you’ve already heard that Jada had a baby boy.”

Evan nodded, ignoring his accuser’s covert struggle to free her hand. “How is she doing?”

“Jada’s exhausted, but she’ll be fine after a good night’s rest. Over two hours of pushing is tough for anyone. But she was a champ. And the baby...”

“Something wrong?” he asked anxiously, not liking the doctor’s pause.

“No. No. As we discussed this morning, Jada was three weeks early, so at four pounds eight ounces, the baby is a bit underweight. But other than that, his Apgar score was fine.”

Evan looked at her blankly, and to his relief the doctor continued.

“The Apgar score is a number given to infants after the initial assessment of color, tone, activity, respiratory rate, and heart rate. And, considering the mother’s age and the early delivery, the infant did fairly well.”

His fiery passenger was still trying to wrest her hand out of Evan’s grasp, but he didn’t let go.

“So what’s the problem?” he said to the doctor.

“I’d like to keep Jada and the baby here the full two days. We do release many of our mothers after twenty-four hours. But talking to our social workers and understanding that Jada would be home alone, I think it would be best for both of them to be here the extra day.”

Evan nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“As a friend of the family and in the absence of her father, you’ve been a great help. Jada tells me she’s put you through a lot of trouble.”

“She’s been no trouble. There’s a lot more that I’d like to do for her.”

“Well, you’ll have your chance,” the doctor added. “Once she gets released, the weight of responsibility on her will affect every aspect of her life. The surge of hormones alone is enough to depress any new mother, but in her case, being so young and a single mother...” She shook her head. “When did you say her father will be back?”

“He’s a fisherman. He’s expected to be back by the middle of next week at the latest.”

“Well, this is when you could be the most helpful.”

The doctor looked at Evan and then turned to the silent woman at his side. Evan noticed that, for the first time, she wasn’t struggling to free her hand. He released her.

“It’s Meg, isn’t it?” the doctor asked.

“Yes. Meg Murphy.”

“You were a great help to her in there, Ms. Murphy.” Dr. Patton smiled. “It was your first time, though, wasn’t it?”

“Did it show?”

“No. You did great. She really responded to you. I hope, between you and Mr. Knight, that you can manage to be around Jada and the baby a lot. For the first couple of weeks, anyway. At least until Jada’s father gets back.”

Before Evan could open his mouth, the doctor continued.

“Of course, the hospital will send a visiting nurse to her house during the first week to make sure everything is going well. But beyond the daytime visits, I don’t think it would be wise for her to be left totally alone. I can’t say enough how overwhelming life will seem to Jada over the nextfew weeks.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Evan said decisively.

This morning, hanging around waiting, he’d had a chance to speak to some of the hospital social workers. He’d found out that a lot of these visiting nurses, for an additional charge, were willing to offer round the clock care to new mothers. The only thing was that he’d have to make Jada believe that the money for the extra care was coming out of her insurance, and not Evan’s wallet.

He was still sorting through all that needed to be done when the doctor left them. He turned and found Meg Murphy sitting on a nearby chair with her face buried in her hands. He dumped what remained of his coffee in a trash can and took the seat next to her.

“Listen, I’m sorry you got dragged into all this.” He patted her on the knee. “About all those things the doctor just said about you and me taking care of Jada. I want you to know that I’ve already started the ball rolling on that. You’ve been great, but that little girl’s problems aren’t yours to worry about. You’ve already done more than enough.”

She turned her deep, brown eyes on him, and he found himself forgetting his words. She’d pushed up her glasses on top of her head, and it occurred to him that she looked so much younger without them. Her dark eyes and pale complexion, framed with the dark hair, made her look almost delicate. He took a moment and studied her face.

“I am so sorry.”

He leaned down on his knees and stared into her eyes. “You should be, and it’s about time you apologized.”

She smacked his leg with the back of her hand before straightening up. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he scolded. “You accused me of impregnating a child.”

“I did not.” She brought down her glasses onto the bridge of her nose. “Not directly, anyway. And she’s not a little girl. It was...it was just the circumstances.”

“You were thinking the worst of me.”

“I don’t even know you.” She pushed her hair behind one ear—a movement that he found quite attractive—and looked at him straight on. “In the cab, before we picked her up, I just thought she was your wife or your girlfriend. I mean, you were rushing like a madman to get to her. And then, your concern for her after. I just thought...” She stopped and after a long pause lowered her voice. “I’m sorry.”

He let another moment go by before answering. “It’s okay.”

She nodded and gave him a half smile. “I’m going to call for a cab now. If you don’t mind telling me where you’re parked, I need to get my stuff.”

“No need,” he said, coming to his feet. “I’ll take you myself. The doctor already said that Jada will need her rest. Just give me a minute to poke my head in and say hi to her, then we’ll be on our way.”

By the time Evan visited Jada and the baby, completed filling out another half a dozen forms, called old Mrs. Jeffers with the news, and finished making the necessary arrangements for her post-hospital care, the minute he’d asked for had stretched into the long side of an hour. But as he and Meg headed down to the parking lot, he felt better about the situation. At least, he knew Jada was comfortably ensconced in a room that she would be sharing with another new mother, and that she would be getting some much needed rest.

And even better, the brown-haired woman warrior walking beside him had never complained once. After reaching his cab, he was pleased to see she even took the seat next to him, rather than getting into the back seat.

They drove in silence to the Inn she was staying at out on Ocean Drive. But as he went up the long winding driveway of the place, he mentally kicked himself for not asking more questions of her.

The Inn at Castle Hill was glowing with the last orange rays of the sun as they rounded the last bend. But then, as he looked at the Mercedes, Jags, and BMW’s in the parking lot, Evan was jarred with the thought that this Meg Murphy was exactly the type of woman that he’d been working so hard of late to avoid. The type with money and arrogance. The type that measured you by the size of your stock portfolio. He’d had his share of the type in years past, and he had no intention of going that route again. He stole a glance at her direction and found her gazing longingly at the rambling, old Inn.

“Your first time here?” he growled.

“No,” she said quietly. “We...I always stay here.”

Just as he’d figured. Evan swung sharply into the circular driveway. The most expensive place to stay in town. It would figure, he thought. She would be meeting up with someone here. His gaze dropped on reflex to the ring on her left hand. The cab screeched to a stop by the front door.

“Well, here we are,” she said with an odd note in her voice that he couldn’t decipher.

“Yeah. Better late than never, I guess,” he muttered under his breath.

She extended her hand, looking at the hack license. “Mr. Knight.”

“Ms. Murphy.” He wrapped his fingers around hers. She had long delicate fingers. A strong grip.

“This certainly was an experience. One I’ll never forget.” She slowly withdrew her hand. “So, how much do I owe you?”

“Forget it.”

“No, I insist.”

“I said forget it.”

“Well, thanks,” she said pleasantly, opening the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around town.”

“Don’t count on it.”

CHAPTERFIVE

Meg stared wearily into the face of the young man bent over the open book. She hadn’t wanted to believe what she had just been told, so she’d asked, begged, and finally demanded that the desk clerk check the records again and hand her a key.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Murphy. But we show no record of you reserving this room.”

“That’s it,” Meg whispered through clenched teeth. “Get me the manager.”

“But she’ll just tell you⁠—”

“I want to see the manager,” she snapped.

“Okay,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “But the Inn’s full, and⁠—”

Meg slapped her palm smartly on the polished wood of the counter. “Get the manager.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so drained. The twitch of anger poked like needles at her scalp, and Meg felt her knees wobble beneath her weight.

She’d known longer days in her life, but never before had she had to face the emotional ups and downs of helping a fifteen-year-old give birth.

The desk clerk returned in a minute, trailing the manager, an attractive woman with long, brown hair. The woman looked at her, recognition lighting up her face.

“Oh, hi. Yes, Ms. Murphy. You were here last year and the year before, if I remember right.”

“That’s right,” Meg said, feeling hopeful for the first time. “And the twelve years before that, too.”

“George says there’s some confusion about your reservation.”

“There’s no confusion. I made my reservation—the same reservation I make every year—and I want to check in.”

“Hmm.” the woman looked down at the book. “George, you checked everything? The cancellations?”

“There was no cancellation,” Meg said, her tone testy enough to cause the manager to glance up at her.

“Yeah, I did,” he answered. “No record of it, Mary. Anywhere.”

“Here it is.” She looked up with an embarrassed smile. “The reservation is for next Wednesday.”

“Next Wednesday?” Meg murmured vaguely.

“Yes. Look for yourself. Murphy, the Tower Room, next Wednesday to the following Wednesday.”

Meg stared in disbelief. Sure enough, the reservation was clearly marked in the book.

“But that’s impossible. For fifteen years we...I have been coming here. It’s always been this week.”

“Sorry. We have a pretty good system.”

Meg put her hand pleadingly on the woman’s arm. “Don’t you have any room. Mary, isn’t it? Isn’t there any room at the Inn?” Jeez, she thought, this was starting to sound like a Christmas play.

The manager slowly shook her head. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have a tough time. With the Boat Show this week and the Heart Ball Sunday night, this is the one week in September when everything in town will be booked. I’m sorry.”

She felt like crying. Staring at the politely indifferent expressions of the two standing behind the desk, Meg considered throwing a fit. But she knew it would do no good. They’d probably seen better tantrums than she could throw.

She picked up her briefcase and carrying bag. “Cancel my reservation for next week. And call me a cab, will you?”

“Perhaps the Visitor’s Center can do something.”

“Just call me a cab,” Meg said, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’ll wait outside.”

She didn’t know where she’d go or what she’d do, but she wasn’t about to stand the humiliation of having those two look at her like she’d lost her mind. It didn’t matter what they said, she knew she made the reservation for the right dates. It had to be their screwed-up system that had lost her week.

By the time she stepped outside the double entry doors, the golden sunset was only a purple memory in the western sky. A night breeze had sprung up, and she gazed out at mouth of the bay, at the black ocean beyond, and at the lights of a barge making its way slowly out the channel.

Meg took a deep breath and tried to fight back the gloom that was closing in on her soul. So what if there was no room for her in this place? She’d find a room elsewhere. In fact, her budget was tight enough without the added weight of the Inn’s expense. She didn’t need this kind of lavish self-pampering. When the cab arrived, she’d go right down to that Visitor’s Center. There had to be someplace where she could find a roof over her head.

Out of the darkness, a young couple walked up from the paths that ran along the cliffs. She stepped aside to let them pass into the Inn. They looked like lovers. Just married, maybe. Or perhaps having a little fling, as her friend Rebekah the cynic would so aptly put it.

Meg, she’d say, you should have a little fling. Put aside the work, the worry, even the concern about if he’s Mr. Right. What you need is a fall weekend for yourself.

You Meg, she’d continue, are the bookworm variety romantic. You like the idea, you dream up the scenarios, but then—when a real guy asks you out on a date—you turn tail and crawl back into the cocoon of those pages.

But that’s not fair, Meg would correct. She’s had her days. When Robert was alive, they’d had their days of romance, the getaways, the strolls in the sunset.

But that was back in the Dark Ages, Rebekah would argue.

Wrong. That was now, during their week together, Meg would always think. Robert always came back to her during this week.

“So where are you, Robert?” she murmured, watching as the lights of the barge disappeared from sight.

The slow, retching sound of an engine struggling to come to life drew her gaze toward the darkness of the drive. Out there, on the grass shoulder just beyond the curve of the circular driveway, the pale shape of a lonely cab was barely visible. As she looked, a tall figure emerged from behind the wheel and, clicking on a little pen light, moved to look under the open hood.

Him, she thought, not really surprised at the unexpected jolt of satisfaction at seeing him. Something had passed between them in the cab, and Meg was sure that they had both felt it. But then, in an instant, he had closed up like a fist, and she had left him. Now, wrestling to contain her excitement at seeing him here, she lifted the handle of her carrying bag onto one shoulder and dashed down the stone stairs.

Other than the rush of the tide and a bell buoy in the harbor, the only sound under the blue velvet sky was the crunch of gravel beneath the soles of her sensible shoes. She was still a dozen steps from the car when she heard him mutter something obscene and slam the hood shut.

Behind her, a faraway ship’s horn echoed off the bluffs, and somewhere to her left, an owl hooted in response. Meg slowed her steps, hoping he would notice her approach. He did.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, coming around the car.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” She built up her courage and stepped closer.

“The car⁠—”

“My room⁠—”

They both started and stopped at the same time.

“You first.” He leaned against the car door.

“There was some confusion about my room.” She dropped her bag and briefcase on the ground next to her feet. “Now, I know I made the reservation for this week, but they claim that they aren’t expecting me until next week. And it doesn’t seem to matter what I say or do, it’s their word against mine. And too bad for me. So here I am, out of luck and out of a room.”

She watched him cross his arms over his chest and give her a once over look that made her stomach flutter. Unconsciously, she returned the favor. For the first time she noticed the fit of the blue denim shirt over his broad chest. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong forearms. And a pair of snug jeans hugged narrow hips and strong legs that were crossed casually at the ankle. Realizing what she was doing, Meg caught herself and looked up into his amused face.

“So what did you have in mind?” he asked, a suggestive hint in his voice.

Her answer was quick. “They already called in to send a cab for me. The manager in there told me that the Visitor’s Center has a service.”

“They’re closed,” he cut in casually, pushing away from the car. “After Labor Day, they close that desk at six.”

She swallowed an anxious lump that was rising in her throat and frowned back toward the double glass doors of the Inn, shining brightly in the darkness of the night.

“Perfect,” she said. “Perhaps, if I call around⁠—”

“It’ll be tough to find a place this late,” he interrupted. “There’s a big charity banquet this weekend. The Heart Ball. Old money, politicians, the whole bit. And then there’s the usual rat race of the weekend. You can count on most of the places downtown being booked all week.”

Annoyed at his doomsaying, Meg frowned. He turned his back on her and hopped into his ailing cab. He acted as if he were totally disinterested in her dilemma and in her.

Pushing her stuff out of the driveway, Meg leaned against the cab and listened to him cursing under his breath as he fiddled beneath the dash.

“So what happened?” she asked after a moment had passed. “After you dropped me, did you try to take off so fast that the engine ejected into the bay?”

“It’s not funny.” He tried the ignition again, but only a continuous groaning sound rewarded his efforts. “I don’t know what the hell happened. I dropped you off, came around the circle, and the damn thing just died on me.”

“I can smell the gas. You flooded it.”

“I didn’t,” he turned and growled at her through the open door.

“Have you checked the battery? It could be dead.”

He flicked on the lights. “It’s not dead.”

She looked around and saw the twin shafts of light cutting into the woods beyond the winding driveway. “They look pretty dim to me. Before you flooded it, were you nearly out of gas?”

“No. And I didn’t flood it.”

“Check the spark plug wires?”

“Yes.”

“Distributor cap? Sometimes they crack, and moisture gets in there.”

In the dark, she wasn’t sure if he was amused or annoyed, but she definitely had his attention.

“I even checked that. What are you, a mechanic or something?”

“No.” Meg didn’t really see the need to explain, but driving an old car and living on a tight budget had forced her long ago to learn the basics of auto care. Hey, listening to Click and Clack, the car guys, on the radio didn’t hurt, either. “Did you jiggle the wheel?”