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birth date to this man she had no reason to dislike.
    He nodded slowly. "Any idea what your mother looked like?"
    "Nothing like me." For some reason it seemed important that he know that, that she assure him he wasn't looking at a carbon copy of her mother. "She was petite, probably around five feet, and she had short, dark brown hair."
    "Were your mother's eyes blue-green like yours?"
    Though Morton's words were innocuous, something in his voice sent chills through Rebecca. She glanced in Jake's direction, but he gave no indication of noticing anything awry. Likely she was being too sensitive. She'd done a lot of that lately. "We don't know her eye color," she said. "It was all so long ago. The people I talked to said she wore glasses and rarely looked up from her work."
    "Doesn't sound like anybody from here, and I'd know if it was. This is a small town and I've been here most of my life. I know everybody, even people that left years ago. I think you folks are wasting your time, but, like I said, anything you need, give me a call. I'll do my best to open any doors I can for you."
    Jake eased upright from his half-sitting stance. "We do appreciate that, Mayor. We'll be sure to let you know."
    He clapped a hand on Morton's back in simulated good-old-boy camaraderie, guided Morton out the door and closed it behind him.
    Yes, Jake Thornton was a man in control of his world and anyone who infringed on that world.
    Including her.
    She pushed up from the chair, forcing herself to face him. "How did he find out about you?" she demanded, channeling her uneasiness about the whole situation into anger. "Have you told the whole world I'm looking for the mother who dumped me? I thought this was supposed to be private!"
    Jake stood in the middle of the floor, arms again folded across his chest, legs planted wide apart, his expression implacable. "I've just spent the day going through public records at the courthouse and talking to people. When you start asking questions, those people want to know why. I had to tell them I have a client who wants to find her birth mother. But nobody would have known who you are if you hadn't come down here and jumped into the middle of things."
    Rebecca sank back into the chair. "Okay, you're right. I apologize for snapping at you. This whole business is making me crazy."
    Jake scowled. "You can't let it do that."
    "That's easy enough for you to say when all this means to you is a job." She was only too aware that she wasn't maintaining her professional demeanor, but she had to make him understand how important this was to her. "It's a little more than that to me. When I lost my parents...lost them completely, I mean, not just to death...it was like I ceased to exist. You have no idea what something like that does to a person. You couldn't possibly know since it hasn't happened to you. Everything's different. Everything's wrong." She spread her arms helplessly. "Somehow I have to get things right again."
    He regarded her for a long, speculative moment, then walked over and placed both hands on her shoulders. "Grieve for your parents. Try to find your real mother if that's what you have to do. But don't let this interfere with your life. Families come, families go...real families, stepfamilies, half families, whole families. In the long run, you're all you've got."
    Jake's deep voice resonated through her, his words echoing with a loneliness completely out of character for him. Was she filtering what he said through her own loneliness or did Jake...the man who'd answered her knock tonight, not the private investigator she'd met in Dallas, the man who'd so effortlessly ushered Charles Morton out the door...did he have his own pain, his own losses to deal with?
    She lifted her gaze to his, searching for answers, and found instead a thousand questions as his lids lowered halfway and a smoky haze washed over the sharp blue-black stone of his eyes. In the sudden silence, she heard her own quick intake of breath,