Her Fifth Husband? by Dixie Browning Page B

friends had been telling her that for years, which made her do exactly the opposite.
    She was supposed to have style, for Pete’s sake—she was an interior designer. Who wanted a designer who bought her clothes from the same store her housekeeper did?
    Jake said gruffly, “Sit up front, we need to talk.”
    Uh-oh, here’s where I get dumped, Sasha told herself.
    But they headed south toward Manteo, which meant he wasn’t going to drop her off at Driftwinds. Not yet, anyway. She waited for him to speak, and when he didn’t, she said, “What are we going to call her?” Neither of them particularly cared for the name on her birth certificate. “What was your mother’s name?”
    He pulled up at a traffic light. “Rebecca,” he replied, tapping the steering wheel.
    â€œThat’s nice. If she doesn’t like it she can change it when she grows up. I did.”
    He cut her a quick glance. “Changed your name? What’d you start out with?”
    â€œSally June.” She shrugged. “Once I grew up, it just wasn’t me.”
    He smiled at that. It was the first smile she’d seen in hours. Evidently he was coming out of his state ofshock. “Yeah, you’re probably right. How’d you come by the name Sasha?”
    Twisting around, she glanced at the back seat. “All’s peaceful. She’s just looking around and blinking. I think she’s sleepy again. My name? I read it in a book. I’ve always been a reader, even when I had to hide my books in the barn or under my mattress.”
    â€œYou read that kind of books?” He looked amused, which made him look younger than she’d first thought. She’d placed his age at a year or two more than her own—possibly even less, considering that he’d obviously spent most of it outdoors, probably without the benefit of sunscreen or moisturizers.
    But they’d been talking about books, not the texture of his face, with those squint lines and laugh lines, and the afternoon shadow of beard that cried out to be stroked. So she said, “I read every kind of book I could get my hands on, usually at ten cents a copy from yard sales. The only trouble was, there weren’t that many yard sales in our neighborhood. People tended to hang on to whatever they owned until it wore out.” She made it sound like a joke. It wasn’t. She’d grown up dirt-poor, which probably explained her present lifestyle.
    â€œThere’s always the backs of cereal boxes.” They cruised along at the speed of traffic, which was erratic at best. Jake was an excellent driver, anticipating trouble before she was even aware of it. “Or don’t kids still read those?”
    â€œOnce you’ve read a few oatmeal boxes, you know how the story ends.”
    He smiled again. That was twice in the past few minutes. Sasha glanced at him, seeing the furrows betweenhis eyebrows disappear while the ones bracketing his mouth grew deeper. This is why I knew I had to come with him, she thought. He needs me. He might not be ready to admit it, but he really does need me.
    He could’ve dropped her off at her car when they’d left the restaurant. It would have taken only a few more minutes. Instead, he’d taken her with him to find Cheryl.
    He could have driven her to Driftwinds and left her there after they’d seen the lawyer, or after she’d done his shopping for him. Instead, he was taking her home with him. That had to mean something.
    Dream on, she mocked silently. The trouble with being a Libra was that she was heavily under the influence of Venus. Venus people weren’t exactly known for their common sense.
    Somewhere between the seventh and the ninth milepost, Jake’s frown reappeared. Shooting her a helpless look—or at least, as helpless as a big, sexy guy in the prime of life could manage—he said, “Back to names—I thought maybe I’d