Roarke’s former wife, for her brutal deception.
Even she, Jennifer, was guilty for not having listened to her own heart.
But her baby, her beloved Susanna, was innocent.
Jennifer turned and looked at Roarke. “Does this change how you feel about Susanna?”
“What?”
“You heard me.” She stood straight and tall, her eyes locked to his. “Susu loves you. She’s your daughter in every way that matters. If you turn away from her, if you deny her your love—”
Roarke’s face contorted as he grabbed hold of her shoulders.
“What kind of bastard do you think I am?” he growled. “Susanna is my daughter. I love her. Hell, I love her even more, now that I—”
He fell silent, but she knew what he must be thinking, that he would love Susu more than ever, now that he knew she had been abandoned by her own mother.
“Jennifer.” Roarke’s voice was rough. “Sign the papers. Give up all claim to my daughter. If you feel anything for her, if you ever felt anything for me… Help me put this nightmare behind us.”
She wanted to tell him that she had no claims, that she had left Isla de la Pantera rather than risk breaking his heart.
She wanted to tell him that she would never stop loving him, that the few weeks they had spent together would be the memories that would warm her through the empty years that stretched ahead.
But it was too late to tell him anything.
Instead, she held out her hand and took the papers. He took a pen from his pocket and gave it to her. She scrawled her name quickly, unable to see what she wrote because she was crying too hard. Once she’d finished, she handed him the papers and the pen.
Her tears made his face a blur, but she could see him looking at her, waiting as if for some special message. Then, slowly, he put the papers into the envelope and jammed it into his pocket.
“Goodbye, Jennifer,” he said hoarsely.
She nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
He was at the door when she saw the check still lying on the floor.
“Wait,” she cried as she snatched it up and went after him.
Roarke turned quickly. “What is it?”
She held out her hand. “You forgot this.”
He looked from the check to her face.
“Too late,” he said. “You signed the agreement; I’m not going to up the price now.”
“I don’t want your money.”
His hands knotted into fists. “If you’re thinking of fighting that document, I assure you it’s legal and binding.”
“Your attorneys would know more about that than I would. I’m only telling you that I never sold my daughter in the first place, and I’m not about to do it now.”
“Jesus. You almost sound as if that’s true.”
“It is true.”
His mouth twisted. “All right, let’s have it all out in the open. You don’t want money? What, then? Stocks? Property in the islands? What is it you want?”
What did she want?