Higher Than Eagles (Donovans of the Delta) by Peggy Webb Page B

said.
    Tears formed in her heart, but she didn’t dare let them out. “He’s a precious child,” she agreed.
    “I have nieces and nephews, of course, lots of them.” He grinned. “And more coming every day. But it must be special, having one of your own.”
    “It is.”
    The enormity of what she had done hit Rachel full force. Watching Jacob, she saw exactly how much he would have loved having a child of his own. She’d denied him that. She’d taken his son away from him. If he knew . . . if only he knew. . . . She shut her mind to the possibilities.
    “I think Benjy’s getting sunburned. Could we go back to the cabin for his cap?”
    “Certainly. It’s almost lunchtime anyhow. How does food sound, sport?”
    “Great. My stomach’s ‘bout to get hungry.”
    When they got back to the shore, they discovered that Vashti had already gone back to the cabin. Benjy led the way, tugging on Rachel and Jacob’s hands.
    Jacob glanced across the boy’s head at Rachel. “I don’t suppose there’s any doubt that I’ll be staying for lunch.”
    “You can stay, but we need to talk.”
    “After lunch. I never could think straight on an empty stomach.”
    “Con artist.”
    “I always was, Rachel.”
    She remembered. She remembered so well. . . .
     o0o
    It had been the day they’d first met. It was January, cold and rainy. They had both been at the Greenville Public Library, Rachel looking for a good mystery novel, and Jacob browsing through the aviation books. He’d spotted her across the stacks.
    She saw him coming, red hair all tousled, as if it had been styled by a stiff north wind, and eyes so impossibly blue, she couldn’t believe they were real. And that smile. It was as inviting as a hearth fire on a cold winter’s day.
    He paused, checking the placards on the end of the stacks, then he strolled casually down the narrow aisle toward her.
    “Looking for a good mystery?” he asked.
    “Yes. It helps pass the time.”
    “For me, too. Nothing like a good—” he paused, his eyes scanning the book spines, “Agatha Christie to read on a day like this.”
    “I prefer M. M. Kaye.”
    “Sure. Him too.”
    Rachel didn’t try to hide her smile.
    “You have a beautiful smile.” He stuck out his hand. “Jacob Donovan.”
    “Rachel Windham.”
    From the moment she’d put her hand in his, she’d known they would be together. Currents of awareness shot through her, so vivid, she felt as if neon lights had been turned on inside her body.
    He’d invited her out for hot chocolate. It wasn’t until two weeks later that she told him M. M. Kaye was a woman.
     o0o
    Standing on her front porch, watching Vashti escort Benjy to the kitchen, the memories washed over her.
    “A penny for your thoughts, Rachel.”
    She turned and caught Jacob watching her, his face a mixture of puzzlement and vulnerability.
    “I was just remembering the first day we met.” She smiled. “You pretended to know about mysteries.”
    He grinned. “It got me what I wanted.”
    “Only because I wanted it too. In those days, you were quite irresistible, Jacob Donovan.”
    “Only in those days, Rachel?”
    “Last night won’t happen again.” She hesitated, looking deep into his eyes. There was no sound on the porch. Not even a whisper of a summer breeze marred the deep silence between them.
    “It can’t happen again,” she whispered.
    He touched her hair, lightly brushing his fingertips over the shining strands. Her hair seemed to be alive. It caught at his fingers, clung to them, wound around them as if trying to hold on forever.
    “I think I’ll miss your hair the most, Rachel. . . .” His hand drifted down and cupped the back of her neck. Pulling her close, he pressed his lips briefly against her cheek. “Or perhaps it’s the scent of roses I’ll miss the most. . . .” He brushed her lips lightly with his. “Or it could be the shape of your lips. . . .” His mouth took hers again, harder this time. “Full and sensual