Lisa Bingham - Man Behind The Voice

Even so, she knew she hadn’t imagined anything.

Someone had been out there.

Someone had followed her home.

“How about that tea?” Minnie asked.

Still shaken, Eleanor headed for the stairs. “Thanks, Minnie, but I think I’ll head up to my own apartment. After the day I’ve had, I’m ready for a long soak in the tub.”

“Very well. You call if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

But even as she climbed the steps, Eleanor couldn’t push away the feeling that she was being watched.

Jack MacAllister remained in the shadow of a doorway directly across the street, mere yards from where he had first encountered Eleanor Rappaport.

Less than twenty-four hours had elapsed since Jack had decided to see Eleanor. To his surprise, she’d been easy enough to find. A search of the Internet had resulted in his learning she resided in Denver, and a look at the Yellow Pages had revealed an E. Rappaport. After silently debating with himself, Jack had made a quick call…

The moment he’d heard her voice, he’d felt as if someone had kicked him in the stomach. He’d become suddenly tongue-tied—and feeling like an adolescent fool, he’d hung up without saying a word.

Eleanor Rappaport.

His head was pounding, but this time the sensation had nothing to do with a concussion and everything to do with stunned disbelief. He had seen this woman only once before, at the scene of a horrible accident. He had been there to help drag her from her car, he had cradled her head in his lap as he’d waited for the emergency teams to arrive.

He’d been there to watch the light grow dim in her eyes.

Jack’s knees became weak, and he sank onto the top step of the small, family owned grocery store. Bowing his head, he took huge gulps of rain-soaked air in an effort to calm his erratic thoughts. Wave upon wave, the nightmares he’d been experiencing for months inundated his senses, but that was nothing compared to what he had just seen in the flesh. The living embodiment of his dreams.

Growling to himself, Jack stood, striding into the rain and into the night. Whatever internal need had dragged him to Denver had been satisfied, and now he was leaving. For good. He’d seen Eleanor Rappaport. She was still blind, but apparently coping.

And pregnant. Very, very pregnant. Why hadn’t he known she was pregnant?

A strange, twisting sensation gripped his chest. The accident had occurred six months earlier, so she couldn’t have been too far along when she’d lost her sight.

Jack wrenched his thoughts back into line. Eleanor Rappaport’s pregnancy was none of his business.

“What’s up?” One-Eye asked from the passenger seat of the too-small rental car.

“Nothing.”

“Is that the girl?”

“Yeah.” His brief reply discouraged any more questions. “I’m ready to head to L.A. now.”

“You what?” One-Eye blurted. “But we just got here. We’ve checked into a hotel, laid out our dainties—”

“We’re going home, One-Eye,” Jack said sternly.

One-Eye shrugged and settled back in his seat. “Fine. If you don’t want to tell me what brought you all the way to Denver—”

Jack remained silent.

“You know that Rappaport woman is nothing but a stranger.” One-Eye grimaced. “’Course, you weren’t looking at her like a stranger.”

Jack shot the older man a scathing look, but his irritation bounced off the man’s weathered hide.

One-Eye still looked perplexed at the reason for their impromptu visit to Denver, so Jack offered what he hoped would sound like a logical explanation. “I’ve been thinking about her lately. I wanted to make sure she was doing all right.”

“Uh-huh.” But it was clear that One-Eye thought Jack was leaving something out.

“Now that I’ve had a chance to see her, I’m ready to go home. Do you have any objections?”

One-Eye shook his head. “That’s fine by me. But why can’t we have a steak and a good night’s sleep before we get back on another plane?”

Jack opened his mouth to insist that they leave Denver. Now. But seeing One-Eye’s hopeful expression, he relented.

“Fine. I’ll book us on a flight tomorrow morning.”

One-Eye grinned. “Now you’re talking! Let’s find us a place to eat.”

“COME ALONG, DEAR. We won’t take no for an answer.”

Eleanor grimaced, realizing that what Maude said was true. Once Minnie and Maude got an idea in their heads, they would move Heaven and Earth to get their own way.

In many ways Eleanor was grateful for her landladies’ single-minded determinedness. Such resolve had led them to accompany Regina Rappaport to her daughter’s hospital room after the accident. While Regina had stayed by Eleanor’s bedside, reassuring Eleanor time and again that she hadn’t miscarried, Minnie and Maude had searched for the best specialists in the country. These same doctors had treated Eleanor’s injuries, allowing her to see some light and shadow and had given her hope for future transplant surgery. As Eleanor had begun to recover more fully, Minnie and Maude had been there to comfort her when her fiancé had abruptly called off their two-year engagement. They’d weathered her moods from rage to despair—to the euphoria she’d experienced when her ultrasound had revealed no evident trauma to the baby. Bit by bit, they’d bullied and cajoled her into rejoining the “real world.” The sisters had even offered her their upstairs apartment in Denver so that Eleanor could continue to live on her own and fend for herself. And once the baby was born…well, they had already made plans to be her live-in nannies.

But there were times Eleanor wished Minnie and Maude could be a bit more malleable. Like tonight. After the day she’d had, Eleanor wasn’t in the mood to go out to dinner in a crowded restaurant, eat unfamiliar food, and chit-chat with her mother’s godmothers.

“Go on. Get dressed. There’s a love,” Minnie said with a push at Eleanor’s shoulders.

Rolling her eyes, Eleanor realized it would be much easier to surrender than fight.

“Just grit your teeth and bear it, little one,” she murmured to the tiny life nestled beneath her heart. Then, with a soothing rub of her hand over her stomach to still the sudden flurry of agitated kicks, she plodded to the bedroom.

JACK WAS SURPRISED when One-Eye decided upon an intimate, elegant restaurant located on the ground floor of the Kensington Hotel. The two of them were led to a small room that held only four tables and had been decorated to resemble a Victorian dining hall.

A waiter in a starched white shirt and pleated black trousers, handed them a menu, then went to gather their drinks.

One-Eye clapped his hands together, surveying the list of food. “Hot damn! This is better than any lunch wagon, isn’t it?”

Since both of them had spent most of the last three months eating from catering trucks on the set, Jack had to agree. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to sit down to a meal without having a thousand work details waiting for his attention.

“So what’s your next project?” One-Eye asked.

Jack shrugged. “I’ve got an action film scheduled for the fall, but I’m thinking of taking some time off until then.”

One-Eye nodded sagely. “That sounds like a winning plan. You look like hell.”

Jack grimaced. “Thanks a lot.”

“No, I mean it. You look like a horse that’s been ridden hard and put away without a rubdown—and it’s not just the accident. You’ve been pushing yourself too much these past few years.”

The waiter arrived with their drinks and appetizers, preventing Jack from replying. As he gave his order, he glanced at an oval mirror hanging above a marble fireplace.