Tracking her down had been surprisingly easy. He'd pumped his stepfather's former law partner for information, yielding no clues about Jeff Wright but discovering his sister Jenna worked as an accountant at a firm called Morgan and Roe in Little Rock.

After the friendly secretary at Jenna's office blabbed that Jenna would be singing tonight at the Blue Mockingbird, Clay had hopped in his car for the two-hour trip from Memphis to Little Rock. He'd turned over various ways to approach her as he drove but ruled all of them out almost as soon as she started to sing.

He would have disagreed the end justified the means before Darcy became ill, but he no longer believed that. Since Jenna hadn't recognized his name, fate was on his side.

"I guarantee the offer's on the level," he said. "My bar is called Peyton's Place."

Corrine's expression brightened. "Like the TV soap opera from the sixties? I've seen that in reruns."

Clay didn't bother to correct her, finding it easier not to explain the true inspiration for the name of the bar. "I bought it a year ago. Recently I decided live entertainment would help business."

Recently, as in about an hour ago.

Jenna's eyes seemed to narrow, but Clay could be imagining her skepticism. Despite everything, his conscience panged.

"I've grown up listening to rhythm and blues. I can recognize talent, and you ladies have it," he continued. "I couldn't walk away tonight without making you an offer."

A heavy dose of truth ran through his proposal. Jenna and Corrine had a rare chemistry, made extraordinary by the raw, sensual power of Jenna's voice. Persuading the duo to perform at Peyton's Place could only help business -- even if his main objective was to assure that Jenna came into regular contact with the half sister she might come to love.

Corrine placed her elbows on the table, as though readying herself to get down to business. A very good sign. "Where in Memphis is your bar?"

"Beale Street." The legendary Home of the Blues, Beale Street was the second most-visited street in the south, trailing only Bourbon Street in New Orleans. Musicians made reputations there. "It's on the very end of the section of street blocked off to traffic, but it's still a great location."

"Anywhere on Beale Street's good," Corrine declared.

"How long are you under contract to the Blue Mockingbird?" Clay asked.

"Only until the end of the Memorial Day weekend," Corrine said. "The owner might extend our gig, but we're free to entertain other offers."

"Wait, Corrine." Jenna placed a hand on the table. Clay noticed she'd painted her fingernails bright red, an interesting quirk in such a conservatively dressed woman. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Corrine looked beseechingly at Jenna, something unspoken passing between the two women. "Can't we at least listen to what Clay has to say?"

Jenna hesitated, then conceded, "I guess it can't hurt."

Sensing resistance, Clay named a figure higher than what good sense dictated for an establishment yet to make a profit. "If that's not more than the Blue Mockingbird is paying, I'll top their offer. I'll also commit to a six-week engagement. How does Wednesday through Saturday nights sound?"

"Impossible." Jenna underscored her response with a shake of her head. "I should have told you sooner that I can't perform in Memphis. I have a job here in Little Rock."

A job that would blow Clay's plan apart. His heart seemed to slam to a stop.

"Jenna's an accountant." Corrine sighed, as though reluctant to divulge that information.

Jenna straightened her spine, and her mouth tightened. "That's right. I am an accountant. Singing's a hobby."

"You're talented enough to sing full time," Clay said.

"And give up my job security? No thanks. I wouldn't be singing at all if Corrine hadn't been obligated to the Blue Mockingbird. Once this job's over, I'm through singing. I certainly can't run off to Memphis for half the week."

Clay deliberately misunderstood the thrust of her argument. "What if the performances are only on Friday and Saturday nights? The bands on Beale don't get going until about nine, so that would give you plenty of time to get to Memphis on Fridays."

"It would be fun, Jenna," Corrine interjected. "We can drive to Memphis together and hang out the way we never seem to find the time to do."

Sensing Jenna's reluctance to disappoint her friend, Clay jumped in before Jenna could respond. "I'll sweeten the pot by paying for your weekend hotel stay." Another expense he could ill afford.

"We can't say no to that, Jenna." Corrine was definitely in his corner. "I know you feel strongly about the singing being temporary, but it's only for six weeks. That's not all that long."

The juke box stopped playing, signaling that the time had come for Two Gals to begin its second set. The bar crowd generated an impressive amount of noise, but silence resonated at the table.

"What do you say, Jenna?" Clay prodded.

Jenna gazed back and forth from Clay to Corrine, who practically vibrated while she waited for her friend's answer. The silence stretched into what seemed like an eternity. "I suppose I can give it a try."

"Great." Corrine clapped her hands together.

Clay tried not to show his overwhelming relief. "I'll have a contract drawn up, but for now a handshake will do. Corrine, you're the deal maker, right?"

"Right." Corrine eagerly stuck out her hand.

Clay clasped Corrine's hand but watched Jenna. She appeared wary, as though she didn't entirely trust him. She shouldn't, considering his whopper of an ulterior motive.

He shook off the image of himself as a fraud, preferring to think of himself as a loving brother trying to provide Darcy with a chance at a normal life.

Jenna would surely offer to get tested once she knew and loved Darcy. If testing determined Jenna could be Darcy's kidney donor, Clay would console himself that the end really did justify his means.