Her Secret, His Child

TARA TAYLOR QUINN

"So maybe she was providing for you in the only way she knew how."

With no idea how this conversation had gotten so out of hand, he wanted it over.

"She was a two-bit whore, Jamie. Don't make her out to be some kind of saint."

"But you told me the night she died that she loved you, that when she was around, she was good to you."

"You call humping two guys in my bed being good to me?"

"I call it very sad," Jamie said softly. "And maybe a little desperate."

Uncomfortable with her assessment, Kyle stood up. "The point I'm trying to make here is that women like my mother sell their self-respect. They deserve to live in the hell of their own making. You don't.

"What you and I shared five years ago was the furthest cry from the carnal degradation that robs women of their self-respect. It wasn't dirty. Or wrong."

"You don't know, Kyle—"

"I do know, Jamie." He pulled her up, held her gaze with his own. "And it's because I'm so sure that what we have is special, that it's beautiful and right, that I want to give you all the time you need to resolve this."

"But…"

He silenced her with a finger on her lips. "If I have to, I'll wait until I'm a hundred for you to come to me. And not regret the waiting."

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

She studied him, questions in her eyes.

"I won't touch you again sexually until I can do so without making you feel bad about yourself."

"A hundred, huh?" she asked. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. They were resigned. Almost…dead. "You think you'll still be thinking about sex when you're a hundred?"

"If you're anywhere around—definitely."

Jamie didn't turn away, didn't even look away, but she felt strangely lost to Kyle anyway. The feeling was far worse than the sexual frustration he'd felt earlier. He could live without sex. He couldn't live without Jamie.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Brad failed his midterm essay exam. Sitting at his desk at home, drinking coffee from a throwaway cup because he was gone so much he'd never gotten around to unpacking his real ones, Kyle read the paper a second time. Or tried to. Problem was, there were no sentences. Just thoughts. Jumbled ones, at that.

Though, in an odd kind of way, the jumbled thoughts did make sense. They were possibly even pertinent to the exam questions. Dropping the paper, and his glasses on top of them, Kyle rubbed the bridge of his nose. He really believed that Brad knew this stuff. That if the goal was an educated man who could convey intelligent opinions, Brad could at least make a valid comment or two if Huckleberry Finn were ever a topic of conversation.

Wasn't that the goal? Hadn't Brad then met that goal?

Picking up the exam again, Kyle shook his head. There was no way he could ethically give that paper anything more than the grade it had earned. An F. How could he hand this paper back to Brad, have the kid show it to someone, and ever be able to defend anything but an F? No matter what Kyle be-

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

lieved about Brad's goals, his capabilities, his improvement, the kid had still turned in failing work.

Red pen in hand, Kyle scored the paper accordingly. And then went to bed.

He tried to dream about happier things. Like Jamie. And Ashley. And all three of them living together as a real family. To take hope from the fact that she'd asked him to be her companion at a reception in Denver the next evening. She'd been attending a national accounting convention in the city every morning since they'd returned from the mountains three days before, and Saturday night was the culminating social event.

Kyle had decided that Jamie's desire to show him off to her professional peers was a good sign. Yeah. She was coming around. Hot for him. Fighting to keep her hands off his incredible bod. She'd be ready, any year now, to be his wife.

"You look pretty, Mommy." Ashley perched on Jamie's bed.