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behind her while he folded the paper, tossing it to the coffee table at his feet, and stood. At six feet, with wide shoulders and a barrel chest, Thomas Whitmore was a big, powerful man. Jane almost felt sorry for Gabe, when, instead of greeting her, her father pinned him with his most intimidating frown.
    Not that Jane expected any kind of warm and fuzzy greeting personally. In fact, she would have been shocked to receive one. Emotional greetings weren’t her parents’ style, unless of course, the emotion was disappointment.
    “Hi, Dad. Where’s Mother?”
    “She’s here somewhere.” His curious gaze held firm on Gabe as he called out to his wife. “Caroline?”
    Jane swallowed and turned at the sound of her mother’s heels on the tiled foyer floor, marking her imminent arrival. Caroline Whitmore’s piques frequently lasted much longer than generally warranted. The loss of Todd, more as a trigger to gain her daughter her inheritance than as a son-in-law, was worthy of at least a six-month pout. The whopper Jane was about to deliver should be worth a decade.
    Her mother swept into the room, looking crisp and put together as usual in a woolen day dress and pearls. The expected coolness of her expression arrested when she spotted Gabe, and the disapproving slash of her lips softened into a polite smile.
    “Hello, Mother.” Jane accepted the air kiss to her cheek before her mother stepped back.
    “We didn’t expect you.”
    “Sorry, I should have called.”
    “Nonsense.” Her father propped his hands on his hips. “It’s about time the two of you kissed and made up.”
    Jane cleared her throat and plunged ahead before the conversation could turn to the reason for their quarrel. “Gabe, these are my parents, Thomas and Caroline Whitmore. Dad, Mother, this is Gabe Sutton.”
    Her father offered his hand and Gabe shook it. “Mr. Whitmore. Mrs. Whitmore.”
    “I serve on the arts council with Alice Sutton.” Her mother’s gaze grew speculative, a sure sign she was about to get her potential son-in-law flirt on. “Any relation?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “I didn’t think so.” Her mother proved Jane’s concern right when she cooed, “She would have mentioned having such a handsome young man for a son.”
    “Mother,” Jane warned softly.
    She spoke over her. “How long have you known our Jane? She didn’t mention having a new man in her life.”
    “Mother, please.” Jane spoke more forcefully and avoided looking Gabe’s way. “I have something to tell you.”
    “What is it, baby? Please, sit.” She waved Gabe toward one of the matching couches. “Would you like something to drink?”
    “Mother!” Beginning to sweat beneath her coat, she wanted to get this over with and go. “This isn’t exactly a social call.”
    “Really, Jane. Mr. Sutton is a guest. It’s not polite to—”
    “I’m pregnant.” Jane swallowed audibly. “And Mr. Sutton is the baby’s father.”
    Stunned silence met her announcement. Her mother folded into the nearest wingback chair. Disappointment sparked in her father’s narrowed gaze.
    Beads of sweat popped out on Jane’s brow as the now familiar bubbling in her belly threatened. Not now. Oh, please, not now . The silence stretched out while she drew in air through her nose.
    “Are you okay?” Gabe’s deep drawl breathed in her ear.
    His large hand coming to rest on the small of her back tipped the scales in the battle she fought with her stomach. Whimpering, she slapped a hand over her mouth and ran from the room.

Chapter Eight
    Gabe frowned as Jane dashed out of the room. Once she rounded the corner and disappeared, he turned to face her shocked parents.
    “Caroline.” Thomas addressed his silent wife. “Why don’t you go make sure she’s all right?”
    Whatever the source of tension between mother and daughter, Gabe was relieved when she nodded and rose without a word to follow Jane.
    “I could use a drink.” Thomas arched a brow while moving to the