Читать книгу Baby, Our Baby! - Patricia Thayer - Страница 10

Ali felt the blood drain from her face. Her legs suddenly went weak, and she had to sit down. Sinking into the chair beside the bed, she struggled to compose herself.

“Get married…?”

Jake Hawkins was proposing marriage? To her?

“I didn’t think the idea of marrying me was so offensive,” Jake began. “I know I got pretty banged up in the accident—”

“No, Jake,” Ali interrupted. “It isn’t that. It’s just…” Her gaze locked on his mesmerizing bedroom eyes, and her pulse started to race. He could be scarred from head to toe, and she would think he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. “You caught me off guard,” she managed to say. “I had no idea this was the reason you called me here tonight.”

Jake grabbed hold of the metal bar over his head, and struggled to sit up straighter. “It makes sense.”

None of this was making any sense. She laughed nervously, not wanting even to think about marrying this man. That had been yesterday’s dream. “Maybe to you.”

He raised a hand. “Just listen to me for a minute.”

She folded her arms defensively.

“Now that I’m back, everyone will know I’m Joanie’s father. The gossip would eventually die down if you and I married. I want to be around and help raise Joanie. You could even quit work and stay home.”

Quit work. Stay home. Jake hadn’t said anything about love. Ali shook her head. Of course not. Jake didn’t love her. He’d never loved her. The only reason he was even considering this crazy idea was that she was the mother of his child. And what kind of marriage would that be?

Angry, she stood and strode over to the window. From her vantage point on the fourth floor, Ali concentrated on the brightly lit parking lot below, counting the cars lined up side by side. After a moment, she drew a breath and released it, then turned around and walked back to the bed.

“Don’t you think the people in this town are going to gossip no matter what we do?” she asked.

Jake’s jaw clenched. “Ali, I don’t want my daughter to grow up with the stigma of being illegitimate.” His voice held authority. “I want my daughter to have my name. She should be Joanie Hawkins. The only way to make it right is for us to get married.”

“Will you stop calling her your daughter?” she shouted. “Joanie is ours.”

He glared at her. “You’re the one who forgot that fact.”

Jake’s words pierced her heart, but she knew he was right. And she had no business hollering at him. The man was recovering from a serious accident. “I’ll have your name put on Joanie’s birth certificate.”

“It’s not enough,” he argued. “I want my daughter to have a full-time father.”

What Jake said was true, but she couldn’t marry him. It wouldn’t last. Not when he didn’t love her. Not when he loved Darcie. And Ali refused to be second.

“I believe it’s best if we think this over before rushing into anything. You have a long recuperation ahead of you, Jake. And there’s the surgery on your leg.”

Jake reached for Ali’s hand and drew her closer, making her sit beside him on the bed. A warmth shot through her as her gaze met his bare chest adorned with only strips of white bandage. She glanced lower, fairly certain that he was naked under the sheet that covered his body.

“What are you afraid of, Ali?” His tone held a hint of sarcasm. “Or are you waiting to see if I’ll be able to walk before you give me an answer.”

She gasped, then her shock turned to anger. “You have no right to say that to me, Jake Hawkins. I was the one here, by your bedside, trying to bring you back. I never once turned away from your injuries. How dare you accuse me of thinking…” She stopped, fighting tears. No, she wasn’t going to cry. “I better go.” Grabbing her coat and purse, she ignored Jake’s plea to stop and rushed out of the room.

“Ali, wait. Come back.” Jake cursed as excruciating pain shot up his elevated leg. He grabbed his left thigh and threw his head back against the pillow, waiting for the throbbing to stop, knowing he deserved the agony for what he’d said to Ali.

About five minutes later, Margo Wells came into the room. He remembered the nurse as being Ali’s good friend from school.

“How about a painkiller to help you sleep?” she offered, holding out the small paper cup.

“No, thanks.” He didn’t want to dull his senses.

“Okay, but sleep will do you good. If you’re worried about drifting back into a coma, the pills can’t—”

“I told you, I don’t want any medicine,” he said abruptly. “It’s my pain, I’ll handle it.”