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Her mouth dropped open. “Twenty-five thousand dollars!” At Troy’s nod, she sank weakly against the back of the booth. “Twenty-five thousand dollars,” she repeated, then closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
When she opened her eyes, Troy would have sworn he saw tears in them.
“I don’t have that much money,” she said, her voice heavy with regret. She pushed to her feet. “Thank you for your time, Troy. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
He stretched a hand across the table, stopping her. “Hold on a minute.” She glanced at the hand that gripped her arm, then back at him and slowly sank back down, her gaze now watchful. Realizing he’d frightened her, Troy released his hold on her. “I thought you said you wanted to buy my horse?”
“Oh, no! I just wanted to know how much he was worth.”
“Why?”
She shifted uneasily on the booth. “Well,” she began, then averted her gaze, her cheeks turning pink again. “I was hoping that I could…well, that I could make a trade with you.”
“If you don’t want my horse, then what is it you want me to trade?”
He watched the pink turn a brilliant red. She plucked a paper napkin from the holder on the table and kept her gaze on her fingers as she began to shred it.
“Your name,” she said in a low voice.
Troy leaned closer, sure that he’d misunderstood her. “My name?”
A tear rolled over her lower lashes and down her cheek. She swiped at it furiously with the shredded napkin. “Yes. Your name.” Another tear quickly fell to replace the first.
Troy lifted a hip and worked a handkerchief from his back pocket and offered it to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sniffing as she blotted the handkerchief beneath her eyes.
“Why would you want my name?” he asked in confusion.
“Not just your name, actually.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth.
Frustrated, Troy shoved aside his plate and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Maybe you should tell me just exactly what it is you want from me.”
She pressed the handkerchief against her lips, then fanned it in front of her eyes when they filled with tears again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry. It’s just that I had so hoped you would agree to marry me and let me use your name.”
Troy was sure that he had stepped into a scene from the Twilight Zone. “Did you say marry you?”
She pressed the handkerchief beneath her nose and nodded. “I’d pay you, of course,” she hurried to explain. “I’ve got the money.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “But not $25,000. I only have about $5,000 in my savings account.”
Troy braced his hands against the edge of the table, pushed himself back against the seat and released a shuddering breath. He stared at her a long moment, trying to figure her angle. “And why would a pretty young lady like yourself want to marry an old cowboy like me? Hell,” he said, gesturing at her. “You don’t even know me.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Oh, no! I don’t want to marry you—I mean, at least, not in the sense you must think. I just need your name. My plan was for us to marry, go our separate ways, then divorce after the baby is born.”
Troy choked, his eyes going wide. “Baby?” he gasped hoarsely.
Tears filled her eyes. “Yes…baby.” She pressed her hand over her stomach, her lips trembling. “I’m pregnant.”
He dropped his gaze to her hand and the flat stomach beneath it. The Twilight Zone, he told himself again, swallowing hard. He’d landed himself in an episode of the Twilight Zone. Or maybe he’d been set up for one of those television shows where they caught an unsuspecting person in an unbelievable situation and filmed his response for all of America to laugh at later. He glanced quickly around, looking for the hidden camera. But all he saw were empty booths and the waitress working at the counter, refilling salt and pepper shakers.
Slowly he brought his gaze back to Shelby’s.
“Baby,” he repeated dully.
She nodded.
“Why don’t you just ask the man who fathered the child to marry you?”
Her shoulders hitched and she pressed the handkerchief over her mouth to stifle the sob that bubbled up. Then she looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with a heartbreaking mixture of pain and humiliation. “I…I did, but h-he refused.”
Frustrated by the entire conversation, Troy didn’t even try to hide the disgust in his voice. “You should’ve thought of the consequences before you slept with the guy. Or at least taken the necessary precautions. Pregnancy is easy enough to avoid these days.”
Her chin came up at his accusatory tone, and her eyes turned a steely blue. She cut a glance toward the waitress to make certain his comment hadn’t been overheard, then leaned across the table and narrowed her eyes. “I did,” she whispered angrily. “But unfortunately not all precautionary measures are 100 percent fail-safe.” She tossed his handkerchief on the table. “Oh, just forget it,” she snapped as she scooted from the booth. “I thought this might be the perfect solution to both our problems, but I can see that I was wrong.” Stalking to the door, she pushed her way furiously to the outside, sending the cowbell hanging over the door clanking loudly.
Frowning, Troy watched her through the window as she marched across the parking lot, her shoulders square, her head high. Not your problem, Jacobs, he told himself as he watched her jerk open her car door and slip inside. The vehicle rocked hard when she slammed the door behind her. Not your problem, he told himself again when—to his surprise—she wrapped her arms around the steering wheel and buried her face against it. He watched the sobs wrack her slim shoulders…and a fist closed around his heart and squeezed.
His name. All the lady wanted was his name, for God’s sake. Was that so much to ask? It wasn’t as if she had asked him to donate a kidney, or something. And it was only for a couple of months, just long enough to give her baby a name and save it the shame of being labeled a bastard. And who could understand better than Troy Jacobs the stigma attached to being born out of wedlock? Maybe his own life would have been a bit different if his mother had done what this woman was trying to do.
“Damn,” he swore under his breath. He grabbed his hat and rammed it on his head and pushed himself from the booth. Digging his wallet from his back pocket, he pulled out a twenty and tossed it on the table. “Much obliged,” he called to the waitress and waved to her as he pushed through the door.
When he reached Shelby’s car, he grabbed the door handle and swore again when he discovered it was locked. He slammed a fist against the window. “Open up,” he ordered angrily.
She turned her tear-streaked face to glare up at him. “Go away,” she sobbed, and buried her face against her hands again.
Troy pounded his fist on the glass. “Either you open the door or I’m busting out the glass. Your choice.”
Her face twisted with fury, she sat up and rolled down the window. “Say what you have to say, then leave,” she ordered tersely. “This isn’t your problem.”
Scowling, he reached inside and unlocked the door himself. “I don’t think you want what I have to say broadcast all over the parking lot.” He bumped his hip against her side, forcing her to scoot over. “And no, it’s not my problem,” he said as he sat down on the seat still warm from her bottom. He felt around for the release and shoved the seat back, giving him room to stretch out his long legs. He slammed the door with the same degree of frustration as she had, then twisted around on the seat to face her. The fact that she shrank away from him, didn’t go unnoticed. It even shamed him a bit to see a woman cower from him. “How much?”
Startled, she stammered, “W-what?”
“How much?” he repeated angrily. “How much are you willing to pay me for my name?”
Slowly she sat up straighter, her gaze fixed on his face. “Five thousand dollars.”
“And how long do we have to stay married?”
“Until the baby’s born.”
“When’s it due?”
“The fifth of March. I’m three months along.”
Amazed, he glanced down at her stomach where she’d unconsciously pressed a hand, then slowly lifted his gaze to hers again. “But you’re not even showing.”
She dipped her chin and smoothed a hand across her abdomen. “No. Thankfully. But I will be before long.”
Setting his jaw, he frowned at her. “What would be expected of me?”
“Nothing,” she assured him quickly, then caught her lip between her teeth as if catching herself in a lie. “Well, I do need you to do one thing.”
“What?”
“Go home with me and meet my parents. Otherwise,” she hurried to explain, “they might not believe I’m really married.”
Troy groaned and slumped down in the seat. “I have to meet your parents?” He rolled his head to the side to look at her. “Couldn’t you just show them the marriage license?”
She clamped her lips together, frowning. “No, I can’t just show them the marriage license,” she mimicked sarcastically. “My father is going to be angry enough that we didn’t marry in the church. He is the pastor, after all, and—”
Troy snapped up his head. “The pastor!” he shouted. “Your daddy is a preacher?”
She gulped and shrank away from him, nodding.
Troy dropped his head back and groaned. “A preacher,” he repeated miserably. “Pete and Clayton are never going to believe this. Hell, I’m not even sure I believe it myself!” Sighing, he turned his face to the side window and stared out at the darkness beyond. From the far side of the parking lot, a pair of green eyes peered back at him.
The black cat.
Maybe I should’ve turned around and headed the other way, he thought miserably.
But it was too late now. Seemed he’d just agreed to sell his name to a pregnant preacher’s daughter to the tune of five thousand dollars.
Two
Though it was almost dawn and the sky still clung to the colors of midnight, the street Troy drove his truck down was bright as midday.
Las Vegas.
He gave his head a shake, then angled it a bit to steal a glance at the woman who slept in the passenger seat beside him. She sat with her head tipped against the window, her bare feet tucked up underneath her and hidden by her full, broomstick skirt. She looked so innocent in sleep, like an angel, even more so than when she was awake, which was pretty darn angelic in Troy’s estimation. Something told him, though, that this little angel’s preacher-daddy wasn’t going to think too highly of a Las Vegas wedding for his daughter.
With another shake of his head, he turned his face to the windshield again and the street beyond. “Shelby?” he called softly, not wanting to startle her.
She shifted, snuggling a hand beneath her cheek, and a bare toe slipped from beneath the folds of her skirt, its nail painted a soft, shell-pink. As he watched, the toe curled as if inviting his touch.
Finding the sight oddly arousing—and himself more than a little tempted to accept the invitation and stroke a hand along that foot and up the smooth, bare leg beneath the skirt—he set his jaw and forced his gaze away. Clearing his throat, he tried not to think about that bare toe, or the stretch of leg attached to it, and attempted again to rouse her. “Shelby?”
“Hmmm?” she hummed sleepily.
“Better wake up. We’re here.”
Instantly alert, she straightened, slowly unwinding her legs and slipping her feet gracefully to the floor. Brushing her hair back from her face, she leaned forward to peer through the windshield. Her eyes grew wide at the sight that greeted her.
“Oh, my stars,” she murmured, darting her eyes from one side of the street to the other, where elaborately designed hotels and brightly lit casinos seemed to mushroom from the very edge of the sidewalk and shoot straight up to the sky. A billboard at the intersection they approached pictured a woman on a swing inside a gilded cage, wearing nothing but feathers and spangles.
“Did you see that?” she whispered on a long, disbelieving breath. As they passed through the intersection, she twisted her head around, keeping her gaze riveted on the scantily clad woman pictured on the massive billboard.
“Ever been to Las Vegas before?” Troy asked, unable to suppress the smile her shocked expression drew.
“No,” she said and turned to look at him, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed.
“Welcome to the den of iniquity,” he said, waving an expansive hand at the view before them.
She sank back against the seat and swallowed hard, staring. “Is it always like this?” she murmured.
“Like what?”
“So…so full of life,” she said, gesturing helplessly to the people who crowded the sidewalks.
“Yep. Nobody sleeps in Las Vegas. It’s one of the unwritten rules.” Realizing that he had no idea where he was headed, Troy steered the truck onto a side street beside a hotel’s entrance and stopped.
She peered through the window at the hotel’s revolving door, then turned slowly to look at him. “Why are you stopping here?”
He saw the suspicion in her eyes, heard it in her voice, and snorted, pulling on the emergency brake before killing the engine. “’Cause I don’t know where we’re going, that’s why,” he reminded her. “Do you?”
She turned to peer through the window again at the hotel beyond. “No,” she said, her nervousness obvious. “But I’d think we’d need to find a chapel or something, wouldn’t we? Not a hotel.”
“That’d be my guess.” He braced a hand against the steering wheel, inhaled deeply, then slowly released it, questioning again his sanity in allowing himself to be suckered into this crazy scheme of hers. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
She snapped her head around to peer at him, her eyes wider than before. “Yes! I have to.”
“You don’t have to,” he reminded her. “You could always just tell your parents about the baby. They might be more understanding than you think.”
“Oh, no,” she said, frantically shaking her head. “My father would never understand.” She gulped, swallowed, then turned to stare at the windshield, though he was sure she saw nothing on the glass but an image of her father’s irate face. “Never,” she repeated in a hoarse whisper.
Troy sighed. “What about a friend, then? Surely there’s someone you know who would agree to marry you?”
“No,” she said, and shook her head again. “No one. Dunning is a small town. Everybody knows everybody.” She lifted a shoulder. “And even if I did ask someone, everyone in town, my father included, would know the real reason for the marriage before the ink was dry on the marriage certificate. I won’t subject my family to that embarrassment.”
Sighing, Troy pushed open his door, but his foot had barely touched the ground before Shelby was diving across the console and grabbing his arm, stopping him.
“Where are you going?” she cried, her eyes wide with alarm.
He eased his arm from the death grip with which she held him. “I’m just going to step into that hotel there,” he said, nodding toward it, “and see if they have some brochures on wedding chapels in the area. I’ll be right back.”
Sinking back onto her seat, she slowly nodded. “Good idea,” she murmured, then caught her lower lip between her teeth and turned her face toward the passenger window. A woman strolled past, wearing three-inch-spike heels, her hips swaying suggestively beneath a skintight gold lamé miniskirt, her breasts overflowing the top of a leopard print bustier. The woman glanced Shelby’s way, puckered her heavily painted lips and blew a kiss.
Shelby gasped and whirled to look at Troy. “Did you see that?” she cried in a shocked whisper. “That woman was a man!”
“Transvestite,” Troy corrected, trying not to laugh. “You’ll see a lot of them around here.”
Shelby whipped her head back around to the window just as a man staggered by, obviously drunk. He fell against the hood of the truck, cursed soundly, then straightened and staggered on. Shelby gulped, then swallowed as she lifted a discreet hand to depress the door lock. “Maybe you better hurry, okay?” she whispered to Troy.
He planned to do just that, but hadn’t made it more than halfway up the hotel’s inclined drive when he heard the truck door slam. He glanced behind him and saw Shelby hurrying toward him, her shoulder bag hugged tight at her side.
“I thought I might just as well go with you,” she murmured, glancing nervously around. “Might save us a little time.”
Shaking his head, Troy took her by the elbow and guided her up the walk. An angel’s first visit to Sodom and Gomorrah, he thought wryly. He wondered if she’d get soot on her wings.
Stepping back, he allowed Shelby to enter the revolving door first, then slipped into the compartment behind her, following as she stepped out, gaping into the ornately decorated hotel. Seeing the concierge’s desk, he caught her elbow and quickly ushered her toward the rack of brochures displayed beside it. While she waited behind him, he thumbed through the brochures, selecting several that advertised wedding chapels.
