Her Secret, His Child

He expected her to brush him off, as was her wont, and was surprised when she suddenly met his gaze head-on.

"I guess I'd just rather people appreciate me, inside," she said. "The person they can't see."

"He really did a number on you, didn't he?"

TARA TAYLOR QUINN

"Who?" She withdrew from him again.

"Ashley's father."

"No!" She looked around the room, at the other tables, a waiter passing by. "What do you know about him?''

"Absolutely nothing," he admitted. "But I can't help wondering if maybe he isn't at least part of the reason I'm having to scale mountains to find the woman I spent such an incredible night with five years ago."

She fiddled with the straw in the diet soda she'd ordered. "He has nothing to do with it."

The waiter approached, pad in hand, ready to take their dinner order, Kyle asked him to come back later. "So you do at least admit I'm having to scale mountains."

Jamie frowned at him, not at all pleased that she'd fallen into his trap, but her shrug acknowledged that she had indeed fallen. For one brief second, as their eyes met, Kyle felt a spark of the nonverbal connection he'd shared with her across the crowded, noisy room the night of his mother's death.

"If it's not him, what is it?" he asked softly.

Her eyes revealed nothing. "You really want to know?"

More than anything. He inclined his head.

"The money." She held his gaze for a second longer, then glanced down, drawing shapes on the white linen tablecloth with her finger.

The money? What? He didn't make enough of it? She'd just done his taxes. She knew exactly what he was worth…

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

A lot.

"The money," he finally repeated, more confused than ever.

"Sure, it might have been expected, but the way you just left it there, without a word…" Her voice trailed off and Kyle just stared at her.

Her face was flushed, a muscle twitching at one corner of her mouth. She was really upset.

And he was completely lost.

"I'm sorry, Jamie." She glanced up then, as if the apology meant much more to her than he'd intended. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're telling me you aren't the one who put the wad of bills on my dress?" she asked sarcastically. "I know—housekeeping came in before dawn and left me a tip to clean the room myself, right?"

"The dress!" When he'd gotten up that next morning, after an embarrassing amount of time staring at the woman asleep in his bed, reliving the incredible hours he'd spent with her there, he'd noticed the dress he'd ruined the night before when he'd spilled champagne on it.

"I see you remember." Her tone was dry, but at least she was looking at him.

"Of course I remember." What he didn't get was why such a small thing was such a big problem. "Like an idiot, I'd ruined what appeared to be an expensive piece of designer clothing. Paying for it was the least I could do."

Brows raised, she froze, staring at him. "That money was supposed to pay for the dress?"

TARA TAYLOR QUINN

Kyle could feel the heat rising up his face. "It wasn't enough, was it?" he muttered. "I knew I should have left more."