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stranger to settle her life. She knew she was doing it, but she couldn’t stop herself, not with this man. Who was he? Why did he feel so familiar and strong?
    She covered her face with one hand. He’d suffered a loss as well. Shaina. The name tasted bitter in her mouth. Shaina and her drunken friend had killed Andy. Strange, she could see pain in Jake’s eyes sometimes but never feel it, while it coursed through her veins along with grief, carrying her on a tide of sorrow so strong she was afraid she could never feel happiness again.
    “You know there will be a settlement,” Jake said. “You’ll have plenty of money. I can get my lawyers to continue working on it for you. Once you have that, you won’t have to worry about money for a while. There should be plenty to take care of you and the baby.”
    “Blood money. Money can’t replace Andrew.” She jerked forward, away from the comfort of his touch.
    His hands tightened in her hair, tugging at her scalp, and she gave a little squeak.
    “Settle down. I’m not the one you’re mad at,” Jake pointed out. “And whatever the reason, the money will help with the baby. And you’re going to need it, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just take care of that little detail for you until you can come to terms with it.”
    “Whatever.”
    Her voice was low, but triumph shot through Jake at her acceptance of his help. He wanted to take away her sorrow, yet a part of him was amazed and gratified that she could actually feel sorrow. He had been upset over his great-grandfather’s death, but not half as upset as she was over her husband’s. It fascinated him that she was capable of loving someone so deeply that her life was shattered when he was gone. Try as he might, Jake could not feel sorrow over Shaina’s death.
    He found himself not liking that side of him, that cold, unemotional part of him that would take advantage of a woman as genuine as Emma. From the little information he’d gleaned from the hospital staff and the apartment, he’d discovered Emma was an independent woman with strong opinions and a sense of fun. But right now she seemed vulnerable and fragile, weighed down by grief and loss. The harsh realities of his world had long ago taught him no one could be so genuine, but though he kept thinking he would find a way to trip her up, he had not been able to. If she was an actress, she deserved an Oscar.
    Beneath his hands he felt her stiffen, go on alert, turning her head toward the door.
    “The baby’s crying,” she said. “Can you bring him in here?”
    Jake frowned. He had the ability to hear and sort sounds due to his “other,” and he instantly recognized the cry of his son. He was leopard, his brain automatically recording sounds and conversations, sorting through data and registering facts around him, yet Emma had heard the cry and instinctively turned toward it before it had registered with him.
    His chest suddenly felt heavy, and in his ears, his blood thundered. His mother never once had responded to his cries, not when he’d been an infant, and certainly not when he’d been a toddler. This woman, this stranger, had more regard for his infant son than Jake did. He felt shame and guilt and confusion—something that happened a lot in her presence.
    “If that’s what you want,” he murmured, sliding off the bed, away from her warmth.
    “Yes, please.”
    How could anyone who suffered such losses, who was reeling from so many blows, respond to the son of the woman who had caused the accident? Jake couldn’t make sense of her. In some ways she scared him—something very hard to do. Jake wasn’t afraid of pain or much of anything, really, but Emma shook him up in places he hadn’t known existed. He didn’t trust anyone, least of all anyone he didn’t understand.
    As he gingerly carried the boy back to Emma’s room, he tried to figure out what possible angle she could have other than genuine warmth. He had a motive for bringing the child