Her Secret, His Child

"What about typhoons, spiders, poisonous plants?"

"I'm a man—I'll handle them."

"So it's just planners you find intimidating?" she asked, grinning.

He glanced over at her, suddenly serious. "And you."

She got that frightening feeling all over again.

Lying on her living-room floor, Jamie gazed into the flames flickering in front of her. She'd given up on sleep. It just wasn't going to come. Not with so many memories pounding in her head. Kyle had left her at her door, without even so much as an attempted kiss good-night, hours ago. But he hadn't left without reminding her of their deal—if they spent an entire evening together without connecting, he'd go away forever. And then he'd looked her straight in the eye. Even in the dim moonlight, she'd seen the man who'd once touched her so deeply. The man who lived all alone inside and wanted to write a classic someday. And she knew he'd seen a small piece of her—the piece that was lonely, too. She was just going to have to find a way to convince him he hadn't. Because there was too much at stake. Ashley's entire future rested on the death of her past. She couldn't resurrect it—not for anything.

TARA TAYLOR QUINN

And there was something else to consider, as well. Something new.

A log splintered, spraying ashes as it fell from the grate to the fireplace floor. Jamie watched the orange-red glow of the ashes, mesmerized.

There was no point in resurrecting her past, even if doing so wouldn't destroy Ashley's safe, secure world. There was no point because Kyle was infatuated with a woman who didn't exist. When she'd talked to him tonight about the money he'd left, she thought they'd both known why he'd left it. And why she'd been hurt but not surprised.

He'd never suspected. Not even when it became obvious that she'd believed the money was in payment for services rendered. Even then, he'd never suspected why she'd jumped so quickly to that conclusion. He had no idea why she'd been at that party, dressed like a whore. Had no idea that was exactly what she'd been.

Looking back, she should have known. She'd been certain, after his desertion, that Kyle had chosen her on purpose. That he'd merely been using her to lay his ghosts to rest. But when she'd spent those hours talking with him, when she'd made love for the first time in her life, she'd known he was different. That they were different.

And if he ever found out that he'd actually been with a woman who regularly sold what favors she'd given him that night, anything special they'd shared would be gone as if it had never existed. He'd never believe that with him it had been different…

As the fire dwindled before her eyes and the room

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

cooled, Jamie slipped back to those cold, lonely years…

Desperate, frightened, alone, the young Jamie had soaked up Tom Webber's kindness, studying hard to make him proud of her. The months passed and she began to gain some confidence, but she'd felt worse and worse about being his ch

arity case. She'd insisted over and over again that she wanted to be able to do something for him, something to earn her keep.

And he'd insisted that all he wanted from her was her time. He lived alone. He'd be thrilled to have a companion for dinner. Someone to see now and then—take to the symphony, the theater—without messy entanglements. Good, intelligent conversation that wasn't accompanied by the need to watch for hidden agendas and innuendos.

And a year later, when she was a legal adult and things started to slip naturally into something more, Jamie was happy to follow his lead. He'd saved her life. And if she wasn't in love with him, she did love him. He made her feel safe.

Until the next year, when an unknown but perfectly manicured woman came knocking at her door. Tom's wife had called her horrible things, her view of Jamie so completely opposite to the modest, moral way Jamie had seen herself. She'd thought Tom was only waiting until she was a little older before he married her. She'd thought he'd been waiting to propose for her sake, so his business associates wouldn't say he was robbing the cradle.

TARA TAYLOR QUINN

She'd thought that was why he'd kept her a secret from all his acquaintances.

But that day, she'd had a horrifying look at the person she'd become without even knowing it. She saw herself through the eyes of a woman who'd had every reason to hate her. This revelation was so much worse than anything she'd ever suffered at John's hands. Because Tom had destroyed her trust, but worse, her self-respect. Just nineteen years old, she was an old man's whore.

Tom came to her that evening, full of contriteness, but Jamie didn't even get the satisfaction of telling him he could never touch her again. He didn't want her forgiveness. He was there to end their association. Not only wasn't he trying to get in her pants, he wasn't going to be financing her education any longer. If he did, his wife was going to sue him for divorce.

For Jamie, the worst part was that Tom was only contrite for breaking off their relationship. He apparently felt no compunction about deceiving her in the first place, for making her the "other woman" without even giving her the opportunity to decide on that role for herself. And he wasn't the least bit sorry for choosing his wife over Jamie. Seemed to think that was a foregone conclusion. Jamie wasn't worth a messy divorce. Wasn't worth the public humiliation and censure divorce might have brought. When all was said and done, she wasn't worth anything at all.

He'd left her shaking and alone, with nowhere to turn, nowhere to live when her lease was up at the

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

end of the month. By the time Tom called, after midnight that same night, she'd been so frightened, so desperate, she'd talked to him.

She'd cried with relief when he'd told her he still wanted to help her. Gradually she'd understood what he meant, but by then she was too needy not to listen. He'd told her he had friends, professional classy men, who'd be willing to pay her well for just a little of her time, men who traveled often, who usually came to town for only a day or two. Powerful men who took care of their own.