Her Secret, His Child

"Right."

Jamie heard books and papers rustling, zippers zipping and stood up.

"Oh, and Brad?"

"Yeah?"

"Be sure you drop the football stuff when you write your answers."

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

"Will do, sir, and thanks."

"No problem," Kyle said, his voice coming closer. "As long as you're willing to try, I'm happy to do everything I can to help."

If Jamie hadn't already been half in love with the guy, she'd have fallen hard right then. He was a good man. A caring, giving man. A man who'd make a wonderful father.

Suddenly she had to hide, get away before Kyle saw her. There was no way she could discuss the reception with him right now. Or anything else for that matter.

Her conscience gave an uncomfortable tug, but she had to fight it. And keep fighting it. Or lose everything that had ever mattered.

Spying a women's rest room across the hall, she ducked in just before Kyle and his student reached the classroom door.

"Goodnight, Mommy. I love you."

Ashley's little voice washed over Jamie as she bent down to kiss her daughter good-night that same evening. Even through the angora sweater she wore with her jeans, she could reel Ashley's little hands clutching her.

"I love you, too, Ash, so much," she said. God help her, she couldn't do it. Couldn't risk losing this. Ashley was all zipped up in her Little Mermaid blanket sleeper, tucked under her Little Mermaid quilt. The picture of sweet innocence.

"I know, Mommy. You love me enough for a mommy and a daddy, huh?"

TARA TAYLOR QUINN

"That's right, baby." But the words stuck in her throat. What was she doing to this child?

Standing in Ashley's doorway as she watched the little girl snuggle down to sleep, Jamie had never hated herself more.

Ten minutes later, buried in her office in an attempt to find a moment's rest from her tortured thoughts, Jamie heard a knock on the front door.

It was Kyle.

"My secretary told me you'd stopped by earlier today," he said, stepping into her small foyer before she could invite him in.

Dressed in what she'd come to recognize as his usual work uniform of faded jeans, long-sleeved shirt and corduroy jacket—didn't the man ever wear an overcoat?—he looked wonderful to her. Reassuring.

Yet his presence there scared her to death.

"You could have

called instead of coming all the way over."

"So could you." He had her there. He was looking past her into the living room.

"I, uh, just wanted to discuss the program for the reception, but we can do it another time."

"Why not now?" he asked with his hands in his pockets, the very picture of an innocent bystander. "I'm already here."

Jamie had a feeling he knew just how uncomfortable he was making her. Just as he probably knew how glad a very contrary part of her was to see him.