His Most Scandalous Secret

He Wanted Her Beside Him. Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Teaser chapter Copyright

He Wanted Her Beside Him.

Needed to hold her. Yearned to touch her soft curls as they danced down her back. Craved to have her fragrance fill his head. Hungered to know if her skin felt as velvety as it looked. Ached for her breasts to press against him, for her legs to wrap around his as their bodies merged.

He opened his eyes, needing a distraction, but the starkly erotic image still hovered, not the least hazy.

Fast. It had all happened too fast. Which qualified what he felt as infatuation. Which meant, given time, he could control it.

They had no future together. He’d seen to that eighteen years ago. To forget for a minute that he was no ordinary man was foolish.

And Chase Ryan was no fool.

Dear Reader,

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So get to know the friends and families in Silhouette Desire’s hottest new minisenes—and watch for more of their love stories in months to come!

Regards,

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Silhouette Books

Please address questions and book requests to:

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Susan Crosby

His Most Scandalous Secret

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN CROSBY

is fascinated by the special and complex communication of courtship, and so she burrows into her office to dream up warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines to satisfy her own love of happy endings.

She and her husband have two grown sons and live in the Central Valley of California. She spent a mere 7½ years getting through college and finally earned a B.A. in English a few years ago. She has worked as a synchronized swimming instructor, a personnel interviewer at a toy factory and a trucking company manager. Involved for many years behind the scenes in a local community theater, she has made only one stage appearance—as the rear end of a camel! Variety, she says, makes for more interesting novels.

Readers are welcome to write to her at P.O. Box 1836, Lodi, CA 95241.

One

She was asking for trouble.

Chase Ryan leaned both palms against his office window frame and watched the woman standing on the sidewalk about forty feet away, the bus she’d disembarked from rumbling off in a cloud of diesel smoke as she eyed his building, then the piece of paper she held.

Everything about her was soft, from the long, brunette curls to the swirling skirt that almost reached her ankles. Definitely not the type of woman usually found wandering the street in front of the Wilson Buckley Youth Center of San Francisco, of which Chase was administrator.

And he had the sneaking suspicion that the woman was none other than Tessa Rose, who, barring natural disaster, was the Center’s new preschool teacher. If that was the case, she should hop aboard the next bus and go back where she came from. No way was that woman equipped to handle the residents of this neighborhood.

His conscience weighing strong, he briefly considered withdrawing the job offer, although the Center was in dire need of another day care teacher. However, business was business. It wasn’t his job to warn people off, but to hire the most qualified applicants.

Not only was Tessa Rose the most qualified, she was the only applicant.

“Hey, Mr. Ryan? You through talkin’?”

Chase had forgotten he was in the middle of a discussion with the thirteen-year-old who came up beside him. He glanced at the boy. “I’m sorry, Luis. My mind wandered.”

His gaze returned involuntarily to look out the window as the woman made her way closer. His impression of softness deepened as the July afternoon breeze lifted her hair away from her face. A high-collared pink blouse hugged her breasts. Her floral-printed skirt molded born-to-carry-babies hips and endless legs.

Not one original thought crossed his mind. She was a fish out of water. A man could lose himself in her. She was the kind of woman you took home to meet your mother.

“Can I go now, Mr. Ryan?”

He didn’t look at the boy. “If you’re called in a second time for breaking the same rule, you forfeit your membership. I don’t want to see that happen, not after you were on the waiting list so long.”

“I didn’t know that damn was a swear word, Mr. Ryan. Honest.” Luis pressed his hands to the window. “Hey, isn’t that Stone Man?”

Chase spotted the teenager tracking the woman who had no business being in this neighborhood alone. She stopped in front of the youth center and rummaged through her purse, the oversize quilted bag an easy target for a kid who took what he wanted.

Chase twisted the window lock open. Before he could shove the sash up to alert her, the kid made his move—and the woman flattened him facedown across the hood of the nearest car, locking his arm behind his back. Her body jerked as she applied more pressure every so often. She spoke directly into his ear.

“Holy—” Luis gulped. “I mean, wow. Did you see that, Mr. Ryan? Shoot. Look at Stone Man go! Je—I mean, can you believe it? Is she one of those Amazons we studied in school?”

“Not tall enough,” Chase murmured, his awe less vocal than Luis’s but just as complete. He finished shoving open the window. “Need any help there, Miss?” he called.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” She dusted off her hands as Stone Man rounded the corner and disappeared. “You wouldn’t happen to be Chase Ryan?”

He nodded, still amazed by what she’d done.

“I’m Tessa Rose. I have an appointment with you.” She glanced at her watch, then back at him. Her smile was brilliant, blinding. Lethal. “I seem to be a minute late.”

“I’ll save us both some time, then, Miss Rose. If you want the job, you’ve got it.”

“I want the job.”

“Come up and we’ll talk details.”

She swung her bag over her shoulder and bounded up the stairs to the Center, enthusiasm in every step. How long until that spirit fizzled and burned out? He’d seen it dozens of times. He hated that it would happen to someone as fresh and full of passion as Miss Tessa Rose.

She stepped into his office, that megawatt smile in place.

“Hi. Who just flew by me faster than a speeding bullet?” she asked, looking down the hall for a second.

“That was Luis, who happened to witness your performance. Your reputation will be firmly established within fifteen minutes, Miss Rose.” Even her name was soft. He indicated a chair to her, then moved behind his desk and took a seat. “Nice job handling yourself out there.”

“Thanks.”

“I take it you saw him coming.”

“The minute I stepped off the bus. I also knew I couldn’t avoid him. He was too close.” She leaned forward. “Do I really have the job?”

“Our meeting was just a formality. The day care director, Chandra, wants you, and your references are glowing, as I’m sure you’re aware.” He tipped his chair back. “It’s my policy to run down the rules with everyone, whether staff, parent or child.”

“Because everyone is more comfortable when they know what’s expected of them, and what the consequences are when they fail to meet expectation.”

“Exactly.” Baby blue eyes, he noted, with laugh lines fanning from the corners. He knew she was twenty-nine, so the creases hadn’t come only from age. “Why do you want to work here, Miss Rose?”

She crossed her legs and relaxed into the chair. “Why wouldn’t I want to work here, Mr. Ryan?”

“This isn’t the safest neighborhood in the city.”

“It’s my understanding that you run an orderly facility. Within the walls, I expect I’ll be very safe. As for coming and going, you already saw how little problem that poses.”

“Your last job was at the day care center for the Schuman Corporation.” He knew the details of her résumé without looking. “Advantaged kids who probably were fed breakfast and clothed in the latest fashions before being dropped off. Parents who probably worked eight to five, and maybe even visited the child during their lunch hour.”

“Your point, Mr. Ryan?”

He watched her foot bounce impatiently, sending the fabric of her skirt rippling. A fresh, flowery scent made its way across the desk. Roses? She should be tending a garden herself in some picket-fenced little house somewhere, not fending off small-time teenage hoodlums. He gave her one last chance. “You’ll see things here you’ll wish you hadn’t, want to make changes in the children’s lives that can’t be made. You may be trained to defend your body from harm, but what about your heart?”

“Are you trying to scare me off?” For the first time a completely serious expression settled on her face. “I grew up not far from here, Mr. Ryan. Although the neighborhood has changed some, I doubt much will surprise me. I’ve read your mission statement and the rules that you make the kids sign and the forms the parents complete, agreeing not only to cooperate but to participate. I spent an afternoon working beside Chandra, and I was here when the children were picked up. I know who they are and what kind of life they lead. I’m not as naive as you seem to think. However, I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to do what I can to make things better for the children in this neighborhood. I believe that is your purpose, as well.”

“How long a commitment are you willing to make?”

“I know these kids need stable adult role models. I’ll be here.”

Ten seconds of silence followed her response. Their gazes had locked the moment she’d entered his office and hadn’t disconnected once. He finally looked away, but only long enough to pull some papers out of a file drawer and pass them to her. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks.” She plucked a pen and clipboard from her Mary Poppins bag and began to complete the legal documents.

“What’d you say to the boy when you had him spread-eagled on the car?”

“I offered to rearrange some of his anatomy, free of charge—in language he could understand, of course.” She flashed a smile. “He seemed to take me seriously. So, who is this Wilson Buckley the Center is named for?”

“You’ll meet him. Everyone calls him Sarge.” He watched her fill in the blanks on the W-4 form. “He retired from the police force nineteen years ago.”

“Which explains why his name doesn’t ring any bells. I didn’t have any brushes with the law until I was, oh, seventeen or so.”

“Speeding ticket?”

She tossed him a mischievous glance. “A sit-in at my high school, protesting the cafeteria food. A bunch of us got hauled in. My parents were not amused.”

“I don’t imagine they were. Did the situation change at the school after that?”

“Sure. After I graduated.”

“So, you made a difference for those who followed. Was that enough for you?”

“Well...no.”

Ambitious, determined and just self-centered enough. Good qualities for working at the Center, Chase thought.

“After that experience, I decided maybe I should become a cop,” she said. “I liked the way they handled the whole situation.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I kind of have a problem with guns. They pretty much scare me to death.” She held up a hand. “I know. I see the question in your eyes.” She leaned forward, intent on making her point. “I really thought I could do the job without having to use a weapon other than my mind. Sadly, I didn’t pass the psychological exam. Too high on idealism.”

He could have predicted that about her himself. “I’m sorry your career plans were shattered, Miss Rose.”

“I’m over it.” She cocked her head. “Do we call each other Mister and Miss forever?”

“Not when we’re alone...Tessa. The kids are required to, however.”

“Good.”

A long, lustrous curl drifted over her shoulder as she wrote, settling on her breast, quivering as she penned her answer to the who-do-we-call-in-an-emergency question. He clenched his teeth. Hiring Miss Tessa Rose was probably going to be the second biggest mistake in his thirty-two years of life. His gaze returned to that lucky curl. He wanted to wrap it around his finger, let his hand rest against the beautiful curve of flesh below it and slowly trace the tempting shape.

He pushed himself out of his chair. “I’ll be back.”

Tessa watched him stride from the room, stirring the air, disturbing her papers. She tapped her pen against her lips as she stared blindly at the form. In her search for information about the Center, she’d learned that Chase Ryan had a reputation for uncompromising expectation, but she hadn’t realized that uncompromising meant hard. Most people smiled in return for one offered. Not him. Not even the tiniest curve of his lips to be social, to be civilized.

And yet she didn’t feel any threat behind the edges and angles that defined him—the square, determined jaw; the strong, powerful body; the smoky gray eyes, fierce with never-give-in resolution. Only his hair hinted at anything remotely soft about him. although the dark hue seemed to match his personality. But the length surprised her, the ends caressing his shirt collar as they did.

Word on the street was that he lived by strict, self-imposed laws, and she could see for herself that he wouldn’t be easily reformed.

Her pen clattered as it hit the floor. Why had the thought even entered her head? Yes, she’d wanted to meet him, to understand him, but why in the world would she want to change him? Certainly she wanted to see a smile relax his face; however, she didn’t believe in forcing people to change. She’d learned from experience that it never worked.

“Something wrong?”

He had come up quietly behind her, or she’d been so lost in her thoughts, she just hadn’t heard him return. His eyes held a touch of concern.

“I dropped my pen.” It was a stupid thing to say—as if she couldn’t pick up a fallen pen from the floor. His hesitation asked a question into the void, but he crouched and retrieved the pen, then passed it to her.

Her hand brushed his. Her gaze flew to meet his. Nothing, nothing like this had ever happened to her. Someone must have switched on a spotlight inside her body. Heat and light filled her. Burned her. Perspiration pulled her clothes closer to her skin. Her throat tightened.

He removed his hand but stayed crouched beside her.

“Don’t be afraid of me.” His voice soothed. Calmed. Tempted.

Tempted?

What happened? She’d been in control, completely in control. She knew who he was. What kind of man he was—now and before. She was not afraid of him. Surely just his touch couldn’t—

“Can I get you something? A glass of water?”

The phone rang, a reprieve for her as he leaned across his desk to answer it, although he watched her the whole time. She gripped the pen and finished completing the forms.

When he hung up, she passed him the papers and stood, tugging her purse strap over her shoulder.

“Can you start tomorrow?” he asked.

She made herself answer. “Yes, I can.”

“Chandra said you were willing to take the late shift with the two- and three-year-olds.”

“That’s right. Yours is one of the few day care centers I know of that stays open until eight at night. I’m not really a morning person, so it works out great for me.”

He glanced at her paperwork. “Your address has changed since you first applied.”

“I found a new apartment nearby. I’m moving in today.” Small, but hers. All hers, for the first time in her life. Independence, hard-won and appreciated. Tonight was her first night on her own.

“People still look out for each other along that block.” He paused. “Are you sure you’re all right, Tessa? Maybe I should take you home.”

“I’m fine. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He scanned her face once more. “Don’t be surprised if the boys here give you a wide berth for a while and the girls start hanging around, offering to help in the day care area when they’re not even signed up to work. Your legend will precede you. You might even consider teaching a self-defense class before the summer’s up.”

“One isn’t already offered?”

“It’s offered, but a new slant is always good, particularly because you’re a woman and you’re not a cop. Be extra alert when you leave here, Tessa. You humiliated the boy—Stone Man is what he’s called, by the way—and I don’t know whether he’ll avoid you now because of it or find some way to get even.”

“I’m always careful, but thanks for the advice.” She smiled her farewell and left.

He moved to watch her from his window. After a few seconds he could see her make her way down the stairs, using the handrail this time, taking a step at a time. She didn’t wait for a bus, but headed the opposite direction, toward where her new apartment was located.

He should have insisted on taking her home. He didn’t know Stone Man except by reputation. He’d never come to the Center, not even for events open to the public. Chase would check out the kid’s record, see how much of a threat he posed.

Long after Tessa disappeared from sight, Chase stayed at the window. Something had triggered a change in her. A delayed reaction to the confrontation with the teenager? Or was it himself? His friend Ariel told him once that he was the meanest-looking man she’d ever seen.

Except to shave and comb his hair once a day, he didn’t look in the mirror. He needed no reminders of who he was. What simmered inside him all the time was reminder enough, and kept him focused on his purpose. People did sometimes cast wary glances his way on the street. He always figured it was from natural caution, not because he appeared threatening.

Had Tessa been afraid of him?

She disturbed him, as well. Her softness teased him with promises he tried not to visualize. But even now he could smell her perfume and picture the womanly shape of her. A lot of power was packed into that body, some in physical strength, more in temptation.

He’d win this battle, though. Just as he’d won every other battle of temptation he’d fought.

As she unlocked her door, Tessa sighed, glad to be home. The walk from the Center to her apartment was barely five blocks, but she’d been constantly on alert. She wondered what the teenager’s real name was and why he’d been dubbed Stone Man. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. So young to be living such an old life.

Her journey had also been reconnaissance, as she memorized her surroundings and checked out escape paths, getting to know the route from home to work. After the emotional scene with her family this morning—her last day living under their roof—and her bewildering response to Chase Ryan, she needed time alone.

And if she’d shut her door just two seconds sooner, she would have found sanctuary. Instead, her across-the-hall neighbor opened his door.

“Hi, Tess.”

She did not like being called Tess. She’d told him so yesterday when he’d shortened her name upon introduction. Obviously, he either didn’t listen or didn’t care. Or maybe because he used a shortened version of his own name, he did so with others. Not wanting to alienate a neighbor, though, she managed a smile for the thirty-something man who’d helped her father carry her sofa bed up the stairs.

“Hello, Norm.”

“Get settled in okay?”

“Yes, thanks. I still have some boxes to unpack, though, so if you’ll excuse me.”

From behind him, a young woman slipped out of his apartment, planting a kiss on his lips as she passed by. “See you later, honey.” She gave Tessa the once-over before sending a distinctly He’s mine admonition with her eyes, silent and direct. “I’m Marcy. I live downstairs in 1B.”

Relieved that Norm was involved with someone, Tessa offered her hand. “Tessa Rose.”

Marcy must have believed the Message received answer in Tessa’s return gaze and abrupt handshake, because she visibly relaxed. She nodded, then hurried down the stairs.

“Your girlfriend?” she asked Norm, who hadn’t shut his door yet.

“Yep.” He tucked his hands in his back pockets. “Anything you need help with?”

“Everything’s fine, but thank you for asking. Bye.” She retreated before he could reply. Resting against her closed door, she surveyed her domain. Small was hardly the word for it. One medium-size room, a utilitarian bathroom, a one-person kitchen with counter bar and one surprisingly roomy walk-in closet with enough space for her meager belongings.

It was hers, though, from the sofa bed where she would sit and sleep to the four place settings of dinnerware she had yet to unpack. Twenty-nine years old and finally living on her own. No more accounting for where she was every second of the day. No more listening to her mother worry aloud about the potential dangers facing them everywhere. No more seeing her father age day by day.

No more enduring her brother sitting in his wheelchair by the front window, watching the world go by, venturing out once a month or so, otherwise living in a television world.

He hadn’t said anything when she announced she’d found her own apartment and was moving out, but she figured he was glad to have her gone. Her pleas to do something for himself always fell on deaf ears. He hadn’t done anything to improve his life for years. And she’d taken all the whining she could bear about his bad luck.

She pushed away from the door, stripped down to her underwear right there in the middle of the room and tugged on a T-shirt and cutoffs so that she could finish putting her home in order. She felt a little wicked going braless, even though she knew no one would catch her at it, but she draped her bra over the doorknob, anyway. If someone did come, she could always put it on fast.

The phone rang just as she started scrubbing the bathtub. Peeling off her rubber gloves as she went, she hurried into the living room.

Breathless, she picked it up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“This is Chase Ryan.”

Tessa sank onto the couch. “Hi.”

“I wanted to make sure you got home all right.”

The sound of his voice did things to her. Made her shiver. Made her unconfined breasts feel strangely fuller.