Justifiable terror.
She'd known she had little hope of keeping Peter's existence a secret, not with Cole back in town. Sooner or later, somebody would say something. And somebody had. Someone-Jergen, probably, told him she had someone named Peter in her life. Cole thought he was her lover.
If only fate had left things that way...
But it hadn't.
Cole and his son were staring at each other, both of them looking as stunned as she felt, though for very different reasons. Their expressions were almost identical. Two pairs of wide green eyes. Two slightly dimpled chins. Two mouths, opened in surprise. Peter, a miniature of Cole. A miniature of his father...
No. No. Faith took a ragged breath. She must not think that way. Ted was Peter's father. Cole was from a time long past and best forgotten.
Peter recovered first. "Mom?" He looked at her. "Is he really my uncle?"
Faith gave a laugh so false she half expected a bolt of lightning to sizzle from the sky and strike her.
"Yes," she said brightly, "that's right, sweetheart. Your your uncle."
Her son looked as if he couldn't decide if that was good news or bad. Faith swallowed hard. Cole, older and more capable of disguising his feelings, had masked his expression but he didn't take his eyes off Peter. What was he thinking? What did he see?
Not the truth. Oh, please, please, not the truth. "He looks just like Cole," Ted had said on Peter's first birthday. She'd denied it. He looks like himself, she'd insisted ... but now she knew she'd been lying.
"How come you never said I had an uncle?"
Faith cleared her throat. "Well, I guess I didn't-I mean, I never thought..."
"No." Cole's voice was frigid. "I guess you never did."
Her heart thumped as he brushed past her. For one terrible, hope-filled instant, she thought he was going to ignore her son, march straight past him and out the door. No such luck. Cole stopped in front of the boy.
"Hello."
Peter shot a delighted look at her, then at Cole. "Hi," he said shyly.
Cole didn't answer. After what seemed forever, he bent down to Peter's level and held out his hand. "I'm Cole."
Her son hesitated. Then he held out his hand, too, and let Cole's swallow it up.
"How old are you, Pete?"
Faith realized she'd been holding her breath and let it out in one long rush. "It's Peter," she said quickly. Two sets of green eyes fixed on her, one bright with childish wonder, the other icy with tightly banked rage. "His name is-"
"It's Peter," her little boy said. "But-but some of the guys call me Pete."
The sweet lie almost broke Faith's heart. There were no "guys" and no nicknames. Her son smiled hopefully at Cole, who smiled back.
"Pete it is, then. How old are you, Pete?"
No, Faith thought. She wanted to grab her son and run but there was no place to run to.
"I'm eight."
"Eight." Cole nodded, let go of the kid's hand and told himself to take it easy. It all made sense now. He'd misunderstood Sam Jergen; he'd assumed Faith had only claimed to be pregnant but she really had been. Ted could never have walked away from his own son. He'd have done the right thing.
"Eight," Cole he repeated, his voice soft as silk, his anger as deadly as one of the superheated fires that could turn an oil well into a never-ending spiral of flame.
"Yup. How old are you?"
He took a deep breath, reminded himself that the child's genes were only half Davenport. Cameron blood ran through the boy's veins, too. Ted's blood.
"I'm just a few years older than that," he said, smiling as best he could around his fury. While he'd still been aching for Faith, she'd been carrying his brother's child.
"How come I never knew nothing about you?"
"Anything," Faith said. It was as inane as her first comment but she couldn't just stand here in silence. She had to end this meeting before it dragged on any longer. Man and child looked at her again and she ran the tip of her tongue between her lips. "I mean-I mean surprises are nice sometimes, Peter, don't you think?"
Cole rose slowly to his feet. "Good question, Faith. Why not ask it of me?"
"Cole." She took a breath. "Look, I'm sure you have you have questions, but-"
"Me? Questions?" His mouth twisted. "Not a one, baby. Why would I have questions when any man with half a brain can figure out the answers?" His eyes swept over her, all but peeling the robe from her body. "I told Ted to take care of you," he said softly. "I should have told him to take care of himself."
"You told him to take care of me?" Faith gave a quick, bitter laugh. "Please. Let's not lie to each other, not after all these years. I was the last thing you thought of, after that night-"