Her Secret, His Child

"Maybe if you'd tell me what 'this' is, it wouldn't be so hard."

Looking up at the ceiling, she laughed. Sort of. There was nothing light or humorous in the sound. "I'm trying to."

"All right," Kyle said, beginning again. "You were working the night we met—you have male clients—you don't do their taxes, clean their houses, type reports for them or baby-sit."

She shook her head.

"Monroe was one of your clients." Flashing back to the other night, Kyle listened again to Monroe's

TARA TAYLOR QUINN

words, trying to find a clue there. And came up empty. The man had had nothing but sex on his mind.

"He wasn't as out of line as you thought," Jamie whispered. She'd opened her eyes very wide, as if she thought that could keep the tears from falling.

Kyle was finding it a little hard to breathe.

"Of course he was out of line, Jamie. It doesn't matter what you did for him, you deserve his respect."

' 'Even if what I did for him was exactly what he was asking for Saturday night?"

Mesmerized, Kyle watched two tears spill out and slide slowly down her cheeks.

The room was a little chilly. He wondered if Jamie was having troubles paying her heating bill. Maybe he should offer to light a fire.

He realized, suddenly, that she was waiting for an answer. "I don't believe you'd ever do what he was asking."

"I'm sorry." The whispered words were accompanied by more tears. "So sorry."

Kyle nodded. He believed she was. Maybe he should just head home. He'd left his thermostat up when he'd gone to work that morning. His house would be warm.

"Say something."

"What would you like me to say?" Seemed to him the conversation had gone on far too long already.

"I don't know, Kyle." She took a couple of fal-

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

tering steps towards him. "Yell at me, tell me you hate me, but don't just sit there."

Standing, Kyle put the couch between them. "Okay, I'm not sitting."

She was so beautiful, standing there alone in the middle of the room, her eyes huge, pleading with him. If he wasn't so damn cold he'd pull her against him.

"What are you thinking?" she whispered.

"You expect me to believe you had sex with Nelson Monroe?" He didn't know where the words came from. They weren't the ones he wanted to say.

Hands still wrapped tightly around her middle, Jamie nodded. She must be cold, too, he thought.

"And there were others?"

Jamie nodded again.

"How many?"

He'd finally made her look away. The relief was almost overwhelming.