“Is it mine?”

Joe breathed the question, but he already knew the answer.

He had a child. Nikki had carried his baby for nine months. The baby had to be about three months old. All that time, and she hadn’t told him.

A sharp stab of anger sliced through him. How could she keep something so important from him?

Finally she spoke. “Michael’s mine,” she said fiercely without looking up.

A boy. He had a son. Overwhelmed, he stared at the baby, trying to take in the fact that Nikki had given birth to his child.

She’d known for a year they’d made a baby and never contacted him. He had seen her just this afternoon, and she hadn’t said a word. If she hadn’t had the break-in, he still wouldn’t know. Emotion came surging back in a hot rush.

Dear Reader,

The year may be coming to a close, but the excitement never flags here at Silhouette Intimate Moments. We’ve got four—yes, four—fabulous miniseries for you this month, starting with Carla Cassidy’s CHEROKEE CORNERS and Trace Evidence, featuring a hero who’s a crime scene investigator and now has to investigate the secrets of his own heart. Kathleen Creighton continues STARRS OF THE WEST with The Top Gun’s Return. Tristan Bauer had been declared dead, but now he was back—and very much alive, as he walked back into true love Jessie Bauer’s life. Maggie Price begins LINE OF DUTY with Sure Bet and a sham marriage between two undercover officers that suddenly starts feeling extremely real. And don’t miss Nowhere To Hide, the first in RaeAnne Thayne’s trilogy THE SEARCHERS. An on-the-run single mom finds love with the FBI agent next door, but there are still secrets to uncover at book’s end.

We’ve also got two terrific stand-alone titles, starting with Laurey Bright’s Dangerous Waters. Treasure hunting and a shared legacy provide the catalyst for the attraction of two opposites in an irresistible South Pacific setting. Finally, Jill Limber reveals Secrets of an Old Flame in a sexy, suspenseful reunion romance.

Enjoy—and look for more excitement next year, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours.

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor

Secrets of an Old Flame
Jill Limber

MILLS & BOON

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JILL LIMBER

lives in San Diego with her husband. Now that her children are grown, their two dogs keep her company while she sits at her computer writing stories. A native Californian, she enjoys the beach, loves to swim in the ocean, and for relaxation she daydreams and reads romances. You can learn more about Jill by visiting her Web site at http://www.JillLimber.com.

To my two little heroes, Christopher and Nicholas.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 1

Lucky for Joe Galtero that Nikki Walker wasn’t armed, because she was tempted to shoot him before he could make it to her porch.

Nikki watched him in the fading afternoon light through the narrow beveled glass window beside the front door, surprised he could still arouse such contrary feelings in her after a year apart.

She’d always had a sixth sense when it came to Joe. She’d known it was him when she’d heard the car. He parked opposite the house, slid out of the unmarked sedan and walked across the street as if he owned it.

Unwillingly, she drank in the sight of him. His black hair was shorter, cut in the latest style. He wore a suit and tie—always a classy dresser. Too bad the big cop inside the expensive clothes had turned out to be such a double-dealing weasel.

The cold terrazzo tile chilled her bare feet and goose bumps roughened the skin on her arms, but the heat inside her raged. Watching him move toward her house with his unhurried grace started a flutter deep in her belly. She placed an unsteady hand low over her stomach, pressing hard on the spot that warmed to the memory of his clever mouth.

Disgusted by her reaction, she knew she had to be on her guard. As much as she might hate him, he still had the power to take her breath away.

Memories she didn’t want came rushing back. She’d fallen for him like a fifteen-year-old in love for the first time. Instantly and completely.

Blindly she’d trusted him and let him use her.

She felt foolish because she’d known he was a cop, known his job was to investigate her father’s mysterious disappearance. Still, she had believed he cared about her. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Two short weeks into the affair, she’d found out he was using her to get to her missing father. He thought her father had disappeared on purpose, to cover a hideous crime.

Devastated, she’d run away, as far and fast as she could.

How foolish to think she could come back to her father’s house and avoid Joe even for a few days.

She’d come back to tell him about the baby, but she wanted to settle her affairs and be back on her feet financially before she did. One step away from being homeless, she felt too unprotected. Joe had already proved he wasn’t above taking advantage of her vulnerability.

She glanced down at her son’s stroller, then pushed it into the hall closet, staying back in the deeper shadows. If she didn’t answer the door he’d leave and she wouldn’t have to face him.

The thought caused her to let out a short bitter laugh as he stepped up onto the porch. There was no point trying to avoid him. He’d just come back. His good looks, killer grin and warm brown eyes hid the tenacity of a bulldog.

Besides, why should she hide? He didn’t want her. He wanted her father.

He’d made it very clear the day she left a year ago he would do anything to find M. Raymond Walker. Including manipulate her any way he could. Too late she realized like a fool she’d fallen right into his plan.

Joe stood on the elegant porch and stared at the imposing front door. He still had a key but knew better than to use it. Instead he pounded on the front door and waited impatiently.

Nikki was inside. He could see her shadowy form in the entry hall. Judge Murphy’s clerk had called him to tell him the judge had given permission for her to stay in the house temporarily.

“Damn it Nikki, open the door.” He leaned on the bell, the muscles in his shoulders bunched into tight knots. He wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.

He had his fist raised to pound on the solid oak when she opened the door. The sight of her hit him like a fist in the gut.

He thought he’d remembered how beautiful she was.

He’d been wrong. Dead wrong.

He ran his gaze up and down her body, taking in changes.

She was thinner, her blond hair longer and a few shades darker. Her blue eyes were shadowed by fatigue. Had she been ill? The possibility bothered him, but from her scowl he figured this wasn’t a good time to ask personal questions, no matter how much he wanted answers.

He’d never stopped wondering. Where the hell had she been for the past year? And who had she been with?

Fury like he’d never felt before threatened to engulf him. Born of jealousy, his anger teetered on the edge, ready to spill over whenever he let himself think of the possibility of her with another man.

He hated the weakness he felt because of her.

Feet apart, she held the door with a stiff arm like a shield. “What do you want?”

Same rich, sexy voice. The sound of it after all this time made him want to grab her and kiss her until she made that little wanting noise that drove him nuts. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.

“I heard you were back.”

Silent, she eyed him suspiciously, making him feel like a stranger who had shown up at her door to sell her something.

“What do you want?” she repeated stubbornly, not giving an inch.

You, he was tempted to say, remembering the short time they’d been lovers. Her voice, telling him things in the dark, had set him on fire. He wanted to push his way into the entry, kick the door shut and pin her up against the wall where he could feel the length of her body against him.

Joe cleared his throat, fighting his arousal. He didn’t want to have this conversation on the porch with the door between them.

“May I come in?”

The look on her face changed from anger to disbelief. “What makes you think you’d ever be welcome in this house again?”

“I didn’t ask for a welcome.”

“Tell me what you came to say,” she spat the words at him.

“Have you heard from your father?” He looked her in the eye, trying to focus on what he had come for and ignore the urge to grab her.

“My father is dead.” She looked at him as if he was something she’d found stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“Are you sure?” He wasn’t.

For a moment her expression of disdain faltered. “Yes.”

She stared at him steadily with those gorgeous blue eyes. She didn’t blink or fidget. Either she was telling him what she believed, or she had learned to lie in the past year.

“Would you tell me if you had heard from him?”

“No.” Nikki closed the front door in his face and he heard the dead bolt slide home with a snap.

Joe stood on the porch and watched her through the window as she retreated toward the back of the house. The dark interior swallowed her up.

He turned and headed back to his car. No goodbye, no threats of what she would do if he came back. He frowned at her easy dismissal of him, as if he were just another door-to-door salesman.

Galtero, he thought as he rubbed the back of his neck, you were a fool a year ago and you haven’t learned squat.

He had lost his shield with the San Diego Police Department for a month because he had slept with her while he had been working her father’s case. He felt lucky he hadn’t been permanently busted down to traffic control.

His job on the force meant more to him than anything.

But just now, if she’d invited him, he might have risked it all again and followed her upstairs to her bed without a second thought.

Hell, they never would have made it up the stairs.

History had proved where Nikki Walker was concerned, he had no self-control, and that made her dangerous to his career and his self-respect.

That fact scared the hell out of him. No matter how tempted he might be, he couldn’t give in.

He couldn’t survive a repeat of last year’s disaster.

Shaking, Nikki made it up the back stairs to her room and sank into the Queen Anne chair. Her infant son, Michael, slept in the playpen wedged between her bed and the wall. She listened to her baby’s soft breathing and struggled to calm down.

For a year she’d told herself that Joe Galtero meant nothing to her anymore. The two minutes he had been on her front porch had made a liar out of her.

When he ran his gaze over her she’d remembered the feel of his hands on her as if they’d just made love.

Rubbing her damp palms on her slacks, she vowed she wouldn’t do a thing about the attraction. If she hadn’t been desperate she never would have returned to this house.

She hadn’t come back out of choice. All her money was tied up in her father’s company, and the IRS had frozen all assets when her father and his partner disappeared. Tomorrow she would go to see the family’s attorney. She needed to try and separate her finances from her father’s bankrupt company.

She had to rebuild her life so she could take care of her baby. For her own survival, that life couldn’t include Joe.

Nikki tipped her head back against the silk upholstery and wearily closed her eyes. She knew how vulnerable the little pig in the straw house must have felt when the big bad wolf showed up at his front door.

“Sir?”

Annoyed, Joe looked up from files on M. Raymond Walker to see a rookie cop standing beside his desk. He looked excited about something. Joe couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this kid looked.

“Yeah?”

“My partner and I just worked a home invasion. On the way back to the station he remembered you had an open case involving a member of the victim’s family.”

Joe went still. He knew the answer before he asked the question. “Name?”

“Walker, sir. Brick mansion in Mission Hills.”

“When?” He stood up. He’d been on Nikki’s front porch two hours ago.

“Around six. We were the first ones there,” he said, pride evident in his voice.

Joe nodded, his heart beating painfully hard in his chest.

“Was she injured?” He’d find the bastards who’d broken in and kill them with his bare hands if they’d hurt her.

The rookie took a step back from Joe’s desk and shot him a nervous look. “Not badly. She refused medical treatment.”

Joe grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and started for the door when the cop’s next words halted him in his tracks.

“She was more worried about her kid than herself. Claimed she didn’t know why they’d broken in.”

Kid? What kid? His gut tight, he turned and faced the young cop. He had to take a few deep breaths before he could talk.

“How old was the child?” Joe demanded, his voice harsh enough to send the man back another step.

He looked wary. “I don’t know much about babies. It wasn’t very big.”

Palms sweating, his mind tried to find a reasonable explanation. Nikki was an only child. Couldn’t be a niece or nephew. Don’t jump to conclusions, he cautioned himself. Could be she was looking after a friend’s child.

But as far as Joe knew, Nikki no longer had friends in town. They had pretty much disappeared from her life when the scandal about her father had become public.

Who was he kidding? Joe knew odds-on who the child belonged to. He felt blood rush to his head and roar in his ears. A child. More than likely his. He rubbed his fist over his head. He had a child, he thought, dazed. He felt a flash of anger that she had withheld something so important from him.

The possibility had him moving. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“No problem.”

Joe was already jogging out the door as he heard the rookie’s reply. Why hadn’t Nikki said something this afternoon?

From the precinct parking lot it took exactly eight minutes to get to the Walker house observing the speed limit. Joe pulled up behind the black-and-white in under five, his mind in a turmoil.

Worry for Nikki and anger that she kept such a vital fact from him warred in his head.

Two vans from local news stations were already on scene. Apparently the press wasn’t done covering last year’s crime. When two of the city’s wealthiest men had disappeared along with their company’s assets, leaving nothing behind except a dead secretary, the media had had a field day.

He ignored the knots of neighbors standing across the street. Upscale neighborhoods rarely saw police activity and people had come out to watch. The reporters were harder to avoid, but he held up his hand and kept walking, muttering a curse that made them step back.

Damned vultures. The publicity a year ago had upset Nikki to the point of making her ill.

Joe fished his badge out of his pocket, flipped it open and slid it into the breast pocket of his jacket. A uniform at the door put up a hand to stop him, then spotted his badge and stepped back to let him pass.

“Where are they working?” He needed to get to Nikki, but he didn’t want to barge in and contaminate a crime scene.

The patrolman pointed. “They’re on the north side of the house. Perps came through the side doors.”

Joe remembered the French doors that led from the garden into the breakfast room. Easy to breach. “Where’s Ms. Walker?”

He wanted to see her, alone.

The uniform gestured. “Upstairs.”

Taking the graceful, curved stairs two at a time, Joe poked his head in Nikki’s room. Empty. It looked the same as it had a year ago. Smelled the same too. Sweet and spicy. Like her.

A scent that got stronger when she was naked, and aroused.

Joe muttered a curse under his breath as his body responded to the memory.

He found her in the next room. She was sitting in the dark, wrapped in a blanket and huddled in a big stuffed chair. The only light came from the hallway behind him and didn’t reach across the room to touch her.

Joe stopped in the door and took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Are you all right?” He reached for the light switch.

“Don’t turn on the light,” she said in a flat, unemotional tone.

Ignoring her, he flipped the switch. He needed to see her, make sure she was okay.

She flinched against the flood of brightness, tucking her chin against her chest. He took a step into the room and glanced around.

“Go away. I don’t want you here.” Rhythmically she rocked from side to side.

He had no intention of leaving until she answered the questions buzzing in his head.

The way she was rocking bothered him. He’d seen enough traumatized victims do that in times of stress. She must be much more upset than she sounded.

Now that he saw she was not badly injured physically, her child was uppermost in his mind. He wanted to know everything, but given her current mental state he curbed the urge to interrogate her like a suspect. It would be best to lead up to the subject.

“Who broke in, Nikki?” He struggled to keep his voice low and calm. He wanted to strangle the bastards who’d hurt her.

“I already told the detective. I don’t know who they were.” Her face still averted, she huddled deeper into the blanket pulled up around her shoulders. She looked like a turtle retreating into a protective shell.

“What did they want?” He wanted to cross the room and tip her chin up so he could see her expression while she spoke, but he’d leave her be, for now.

She gave a bitter little laugh. “The same thing you want. My father.”

He was barely holding on to his temper. “Who knew you were here?”

She didn’t answer. He thought he detected a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Joe heard someone coming up the stairs.

He turned and saw the patrolman who had been at the front door.

“Detective McCully wants to see you downstairs.”

He should have guessed his partner Mac McCully would remember Joe’s past transgressions where Nikki Walker was concerned and try to protect him from making more.

McCully would want to investigate the break-in without him. Convenient for his partner that the 911 call tonight had come in when Joe was out of the precinct.

He stared hard at the uniformed cop. “Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “He said I should tell you to get downstairs right away.”

“Tell him I’ll be down,” Joe growled at the uniform, who backed up quickly, turned and left.

Joe turned his attention back to Nikki.

Ignoring the fact that she hadn’t answered his last question, he decided to bring up the subject that had been burning in his gut since he’d left the station. “Where’s the baby?”

She went very still. “Go away, Joe.”

He hadn’t heard her say his name for a year. He didn’t realize just how much he had missed it. “Tell me, Nikki. Where is the child?”

“Please, go away.” Her voice broke on a little sob.

The sound tore at him. “Nikki—”

“Galtero, are you nuts?” His partner’s familiar voice came from behind him and Joe muttered a curse under his breath.

“Go away, McCully.” Joe didn’t take his eyes off Nikki as he spoke to his partner.

He could see her shaking from across the room.

“You want to lose your shield for good?” McCully whispered fiercely in his ear.

Joe spoke without turning around. “I know what I’m doing.”

McCully snorted. “I doubt that. You’re thinking with your zipper again.”

Joe shrugged. “I’m here as a friend of the family.”

That comment earned Joe an expletive. Then McCully said, “I just heard her say how much she wants you here.”

Joe shrugged. “Go investigate, McCully. I need to talk to Ms. Walker.”

“You have five minutes, then I’m coming back,” McCully muttered under his breath, turned and headed toward the back stairs.

There wasn’t any more time to coax her. McCully was such a mother hen Joe would be lucky if he gave them the full five minutes before he returned.

Joe crossed the room in three strides and reached out to tip her face up. He needed to see her expression when he asked her again about the baby.

Nikki twisted away from the palm he had cupped under her chin and hunched back down into the blanket, but not before he saw her wet cheeks and the purple bruise along her jaw.

“Son of a bitch.” A red haze of anger blotted out what little rational thinking he’d been doing since he’d heard about the baby.

How badly had they hurt her? He hooked his hands gently around her upper arms to lift her out of the chair.

She gave a startled yelp of protest and twisted away from him. The blanket slid off her shoulder. Her shirt was open down the front and he saw the infant she held to her breast.

Jostled by the sudden movement the baby began to wail.

Stunned, Joe stared, unable to take his eyes off the child.

Nikki curled her body protectively over the dark-haired baby and guided the small searching mouth back to her swollen nipple. She crooned and stroked the tiny cheek until the baby started to nurse again with a little huff of indignation.

Awkwardly Nikki tried to pull the blanket back over her shoulder with one hand.

“No, leave it.” He breathed the words, wonder displacing some of his anger. He pushed the blanket down farther so he could see more of the baby. He’d never seen anything more perfect. A feeling of awe and wonder bloomed in his chest.

She had the infant angled across her lap, tiny feet dangling just past the crook of her elbow. The baby’s lips looked pink against her white breast, and one perfect little fist curled against a small rounded cheek.

Nikki didn’t look at him. She continued to stroke the baby’s hair and rock from side to side.

“Is it mine?” Joe breathed the question, but he already knew the answer.

He had a child. Nikki had carried his baby for nine months. The baby had to be about three months old. All that time and she hadn’t told him.

A sharp stab of anger sliced through him. How could she keep something so important from him?

Finally she spoke. “Michael’s mine,” she said fiercely without looking up.

A boy. He had a son.

Overwhelmed, he stared at the baby, trying to take in the fact that Nikki had given birth to his child.

She’d known they’d made a baby for a year and never contacted him. He had seen her just this afternoon and she hadn’t said a word. If she hadn’t had the break-in, he still wouldn’t know.

Emotion came surging back in a hot rush. He took a step back, not trusting himself to keep his hands off her. He’d never put his hands on a woman in anger, but right now he wanted to shake Nikki.

“Galtero.” Joe glanced over his shoulder. McCully stood in the doorway.

“What?” he said, the agitation he felt plain in his voice.

Joe blocked his partner’s view while he covered Nikki and the baby.

“Joe, I need you downstairs. Now.”

In the worst way he wanted to turn a deaf ear to his partner but he knew it would be best if he left until he could get a grip on himself.

“Yeah, coming.” He took a deep breath to calm himself, then slid his hand under Nikki’s chin again and pulled her face up again until she had no choice but to look at him.

“Stay right here. I’m coming back.” He drew back the blanket and with a shaking hand he cupped his palm over his son’s head, his fingertips feeling the pulse beating in the soft spot on top of his son’s skull. “I’m coming back.”

Nikki watched him turn out the light and leave the room, her emotions a confusing jumble of dread and arousal. He was furious she hadn’t told him about the baby.

Stay here, he says, she thought bitterly. As if she had a choice. As if there were anyplace she could go.

Utterly weary, Nikki leaned her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. If she’d had a choice, she never would have come back to San Diego.

Resentment bubbled up. She’d told herself she was over him. He’d hurt her so badly a year ago. How could she still have feelings for him? But those treacherous emotions were still there. Her breast burned where he had touched her while stroking Michael’s head.

How could she hate him and want him at the same time? She must be crazy.

The baby stopped sucking. “Come on, Michael, just a little more.” She stroked her son’s cheek, urging him to eat.

No matter how out of control her life might be, she had to keep herself together. Her first responsibility was her child. He’d been fussy and she’d suspected he’d sensed her tension after Joe’s visit this afternoon.

Thank God she had gotten him to sleep upstairs before the break-in. She took a deep breath and exhaled, willing herself to relax.

Nikki looked up and once again saw Joe’s frame filling the doorway. The light from the hallway turned him into a menacing silhouette.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the door frame, watching her. She could see the glint of his badge, clipped to the pocket of his jacket.

Finally he spoke. “What exactly did the men who broke in ask for?”

“Information about my father.” She was tired of the question. His partner, McCully, had already asked her a dozen times.

He stared at her hard before he spoke. “You didn’t tell them where he is.”

Near tears with frustration and fatigue, she snapped, “He’s dead.”

He must be dead, she thought desperately, or he would have let her know where he was. He wouldn’t have just abandoned her.

Joe continued to stare at her without moving.

Just the fact he was here and she remembered how good it felt when he’d held her in his arms unnerved her. The temptation to turn to him for comfort scared her. There was no way she could go down that road again and survive.

“Go away.” She felt brittle from the strain of coming home and the assault, but she had to stand up to him. If she sought the shelter of his arms her resolve would crumble and she’d be back where she’d been a year ago.

He ran his hand through his hair in a familiar gesture of frustration. “Nikki, be reasonable.”

Why was it whenever they differed, she was the unreasonable one? She felt herself being drawn into his argument, and she simply didn’t have the strength, emotionally or physically. She hadn’t fully recovered from a difficult pregnancy and nightmare birth.

“Go now, or I’ll call McCully and have you thrown out,” she threatened.

He had to leave. She couldn’t have him here, not when she didn’t trust herself.

“Why isn’t the alarm system working?” He never took his eyes off the baby.

She sighed and shifted the baby to a more comfortable position. She hadn’t expected him to listen to what she wanted. He wouldn’t leave until he got his way. The man was as stubborn as a mule, Nikki thought, suppressing the urge to howl with frustration.

She took a deep breath and brought Michael up to her shoulder to try and coax a burp from him. She’d be damned if she’d answer his question. It was none of his business that the alarm company had discontinued service when they hadn’t been paid. She didn’t have telephone service, either, and she had no money to have either service reconnected.

He gestured over his shoulder. “McCully will be done soon. I’ll go home and get a few things. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said through clenched teeth, knowing as she spoke he was right about her vulnerability.

The two men could return, even though she couldn’t tell them what they’d demanded to know. The thought made her frantic. But so did the thought of Joe spending the night in her house.

As she calculated the danger, Joe shifted away from the door frame and took a step into the room. She avoided his gaze but could still feel his eyes on her.

“Nikki, what if they come back?” he said, his low voice vibrating with anger.

She clutched Michael as Joe gave voice to her fears. She brought her chin up, defensive. “Why should they? I can’t tell them anything.”

“What makes you think they believed you? You told McCully the sirens scared them off, remember?” he said sarcastically.

How could she forget? Her next-door neighbor Glenn had been walking his dog, heard her screams and called the police.

The sound of hammering drifted up to them. “Glenn’s fixing the door.” Now she was grasping at straws.

He threw up his hands and gave her a look that indicated he thought she was a moron. “You think that’s the only way into this house?”

She knew there were a dozen ways in. She’d used several of them as a teenager returning home after her curfew. She raised her chin and prayed her voice wouldn’t reveal how much his questions heightened her own fears.

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. Showing weakness in front of Joe Galtero was a big mistake.

His hands balled into fists at his side. “What if they come back and go for Michael instead of you? What will you do then?”

Her breath caught in her throat. She had a vision of the big hand that had connected with her jaw hitting her son.

“What if they use him to get you to talk?” His voice lowered menacingly as he leaned toward her.

She gulped in air, seeking calm, but the image of Michael in danger was too terrifying. “But I don’t know anything.” Her voice hitched and broke.

He shook his head and spoke as if she were a backward child. “Do you think that would stop them?”

It wouldn’t. The two men who’d burst through the French doors and cornered her in the kitchen had been vicious.

One had held her arms behind her back while the other had cursed at her and shouted questions about her father. When she’d tried to tell them she didn’t know anything, he’d hit her in the face. Hearing the police sirens, they’d gotten away by going through the utility room and out the door connecting the garage to the alley.

Shaking his head, Joe approached her the way he might a suspect with a weapon, slow and steady, a step at a time. His air of command left no doubt as to who was in charge. “Would you take a chance with his life?”

Distraught, she tried to think of an alternative to Joe staying with her. She had nowhere else to go. The people she knew in New York were more acquaintances than friends. Her friends here in San Diego had faded away when the scandal about her father’s company made the national news. Not surprising, since a lot of them had lost huge sums of money when Fortuna Investments went bankrupt.

He stopped in front of her and leaned down, placing his hands on the padded arms of her chair, caging her in. “What’s your answer? Would you take a chance with Michael’s safety?”

“Of course not!”

He leaned in so close she could feel his breath warm against her face. “That’s good, Nikki. Because the alternative is that I take the baby.”

It took a moment for his statement to sink in. Her ears heard his words, but her mind tried to shove away their meaning. She stared at him in disbelief.

“You wouldn’t do that,” she breathed, hating the quiver of fear she heard in her own voice.

She pushed back into the upholstery, needing the solid feel of the chair at her back.

“Take my son? To keep him safe?” He lifted a hand and stroked Michael’s head. “You better believe I would.”

Chapter 2

Joe set his gym bag down in the foyer of Nikki’s silent house and checked the lock on the front door. Every light in the place was on.

He’d parked in the alley and waited to bring his bag in until the black-and-whites and the news vans left. He had no intention of announcing he was moving in with Raymond Walker’s daughter.

From long experience he knew cops were almost as good as reporters at spreading news, and if the brass found out about his temporary change of address there would be hell to pay. This time his shield could be gone for good.

He’d ask for vacation time starting tomorrow. He had plenty of it saved up.

Listening to the stillness, he wondered if Nikki had gone to bed. Wondered if she still slept in the dark blue nightgown with the lace that barely covered her breasts and slits up both sides, revealing her long beautiful legs.

His body punished him with a familiar ache. Knowing he wouldn’t find any relief, he tried to redirect his thoughts.

The bruise on her jaw had to hurt. Would she be able to sleep? Rage at the men who had attacked her threatened to swamp him again, and he felt the urge to put his fist through a wall.

Tamping down his frustration on all points, he checked the repairs to the French door where the creeps had broken in. A good hard kick would bring the plywood down. Her neighbor might be a well-known architect, but he wasn’t much of a carpenter. Joe would reinforce it tomorrow.

Something about the break-in bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He mulled over the file on the murder of Harriet Loper he knew forward and backward as he checked another set of French doors leading out to a small garden area on the side of the house.

Who were they working for? Walker’s partner, Gerald Marks? He had no doubts that Nikki’s father, along with his partner, was involved with the disappearance of funds and the murder of Marks’s secretary. Was someone else in on the deal? Someone who felt cheated out of his share?

Someone besides the police wanted to find Walker. One of the top executives in the company could be out for revenge. Several of the vice presidents of the corporation had lost everything after Walker and his partner skipped. And then there were all the investors who had lost millions.

He checked the latch on a double-hung window in the dining room then stood staring at the privacy hedges screening the front of the huge brick house. After more than a year of investigation Joe had yet to uncover what had really happened the night Walker disappeared.

Whoever had ordered the break-in knew Nikki was back. Both he and Mac suspected the thugs had been hired. White-collar criminals rarely did their own dirty work.

And why had she come back? Why now?

Joe didn’t believe in coincidence. Rarely did things that looked like chance turn out to be random happenings.

Methodically, he checked every remaining window in the dining room and living room. A year ago Nikki had insisted her father was innocent. She’d looked at Joe with those big blue eyes full of tears and he’d forgotten his job as a cop. He’d made a huge error and had not remained neutral.

She’d had so much faith in her father. At the beginning of his investigation he’d treated Walker as a victim, even though Joe’s instincts had told him differently.

That had been his first big mistake.

His involvement with Nikki had happened with lightning speed and consumed his every waking thought. McCully had been right. If he’d been thinking with his brain instead of his dumb handle, he would have had some perspective.

Even after he’d come to the conclusion Walker had planned the whole scheme, Joe kept looking for another explanation because he didn’t want Nikki hurt. He’d held off as long as he could, but when he’d finally explained the evidence he had, she’d accused him of using her.

Damn. He hadn’t used her. He’d tried to spare her. His mistake had been not telling her his suspicions from the beginning.

If anything, he’d slowed down his investigation because of her. Then she’d disappeared. And when she disappeared, Joe’d realized he’d been thinking with his crotch.

A year later he was still thinking with his crotch. Except now things had changed. They had a child together. He ran his hands through his hair, then rubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

He’d been so consumed by wanting her he’d tried to avoid losing her by not telling her the truth about her father. And the end result was he’d screwed up in the worst way.

He’d forgotten his duty as a cop.

He checked the windows in the maid’s room, then went through the utility room to the door linking the garage to the house.

The door, still smeared with fingerprint powder, was bolted, but one look through the window told him the huge four-car garage was empty.

When he’d arrived earlier Nikki’s car had not been in the alley or in front of the house. He’d expected to find her BMW in the garage.

Calling himself a fool for not going upstairs and checking on her when he’d first come in, he took the thickly carpeted steps two at a time.

She’d run from him once before, but now things were different. Now if she’d left she’d be taking his son.

He came around the corner into the hallway just as she opened her door. He heard her gasp of fear.

She stood poised in the open door, the light from her room spilling out behind her. Her face was as white as chalk, and she was clutching one of her father’s golfing trophies.

He skidded to a halt on the thick carpeting as she stumbled back a step into her bedroom. She wore only a thin white nightgown that bared her arms and most of her legs.

He knew he would find only smooth silky skin if he ran his hand up under her gown.

Angrily he jerked his attention back to the statue in her hand.

“Who did you think was coming up the stairs?” he demanded, not entirely sure he wasn’t her intended target.

Her eyes, dilated with fear, blinked rapidly and her chin quivered. “The men who broke in,” she said, her voice hitching.

Fool woman. Was she planning to take them on? He could have wrenched the weapon out of her hand with very little effort.

Joe took a deep breath and because she was so scared he tried to get past his anger and find a normal tone of voice. “Next time you hear someone coming and don’t know who it is, stay in your room with the door locked and call 911.”

He’d overreacted when he thought she’d run off again. What was new about that? He always overreacted around her.

Seeing her fear had not subsided, he softened his tone even more. “Your car isn’t in the garage.”

“What?” She blinked again, her eyes still huge in her white face. “My car?”

“Did they take it?” If the men who had broken in had taken her car they’d dump it. Even if they wiped it down, forensics might be able to lift prints from the vehicle.

She looked puzzled. “Who?”

“The men who broke in.” He shook his head at her confusion.

Her cheeks flushed. “No. My car…isn’t here.” She seemed to recover her composure.

Finally she lowered the trophy. “Were you trying to scare me, coming up the stairs like that?” she demanded, sounding more like herself.

He ignored her question, not about to tell her he had been on the edge of panic, thinking she had run from him again. “How did you get here?”

She put the trophy on top of the dresser just inside the door and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

“What I do or how I do it is none of your business.”

“Why won’t you tell me?” He’d searched databases for her for a year. He wanted to know where she’d been.

She had that stubborn “I don’t have to tell you anything” look he knew so well. She crossed her arms over her stomach and gave him a pointed stare.

He knew so little about her, but he knew every square inch of her body. Her breasts were fuller. Probably from nursing the baby, he assumed.

A year ago, whenever they had been this close to each other they’d ended up naked. The smell of her, so familiar he would dream about her and wake up expecting his bedroom to hold her scent, floated in the charged air between them.

Not being able to keep his mind off their past or keep his body under control had him fuming. He took a step forward so that he backed her up against the door, a perverse part of him needing to intimidate her.

“The only thing that does matter right now is the baby. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her face pinched up in a bitter expression as she brought her arms up and pressed her body back, trying to put some space between them.

“Consider yourself a sperm donor. Nothing more.”

He stared at her, stunned, as his simmering anger came ripping back full force. A sperm donor? After what they had shared? Furious, he grabbed her hard by the upper arms and looked into her eyes, his voice harsh.

“I consider myself a whole lot more. Don’t you ever forget it.”

At her gasp he let go, chagrined he couldn’t control his thoughts or his hands.

“Sorry,” he muttered and stepped back, ashamed that he had so little restraint around her he would grab her in anger.

Nikki, chest heaving with emotion, gripped the crystal doorknob and tipped her face up to him, throwing him a “screw you” expression.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” she said, enunciating each word very carefully.

Fat chance. He couldn’t seem to dredge up the command to keep his hands off her.

Even now, when she stood there hating him, he wanted her so badly he ached with it. His gaze kept drifting to the outline of her hard nipples through the thin fabric of her gown. There were subtle differences in her body and he yearned to relearn every inch of her.

Joe took a deep breath to calm himself as they stared each other down. What he really wanted, he thought, more than any explanation of where she’d been, was to haul her into her bed and bury himself in her.

He thrust his hands in his pockets. Sperm donor, he thought with disgust. He had a son and he would be a father to his child, no matter what she considered him. The baby was his flesh and blood, and he’d be a part of his life. No way he was going to back away from his responsibilities, he thought, trying to get control of his anger.

He wanted to yell at her until she listened to him, even though he knew she wouldn’t pay attention to reason or logic. She’d proved that to him a year ago, refusing to consider the facts about her father’s disappearance.

Joe took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry.” He wasn’t even sure what all he was apologizing for, but it seemed like a good place to start. They couldn’t go on the way they were.

“You and I have a lot to work out, but nothing changes the fact that Michael is my son. And I will be a part of his life.”

“How? By taking him away from me?” Her voice broke in the middle of the question.

Her words seemed to hang in the air between them, then he noticed she was shaking all over.

He had threatened to take his son. He’d wanted her to understand the danger she was in. He hadn’t stopped to consider how intimidated she might be by his warning.

“Look, Nikki…” He reached for her, needing to apologize and offer comfort, only to have her flinch away from him. The look of fear and uncertainty on her face made him take another step back. He had been rough with her and now she was afraid of him.

He wondered if he could screw this up any worse than he already had.

He raised his hands, palms up, in a conciliatory gesture he hoped would reassure her and deliberately softened his tone. “Where is the baby?”

She didn’t answer right away, her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line as she visibly struggled for control. Finally she said, “Asleep.”

“Where is he sleeping? I need to know where you both are in order to protect you.” There was always a chance whoever had broken in could try again.

She didn’t answer at first, just stared at him with a stubborn look on her face. Her expression didn’t change as she finally answered, “He’s in a playpen on the other side of my bed.”

Ever since he’d first seen Michael he’d yearned to hold his son, feel the weight of him in his arms. That moment was going to have to wait. Nikki didn’t trust him and she was too fragile just now.

Joe ran his hand through his hair and groped for something to say to help smooth out their relationship. Nothing came to mind. He had taken a two-week course in communication and hostage negotiation and he couldn’t come up with a simple statement to open up some interaction.

He tried to shrug some of the tension out of his shoulders. “We’re both tired. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he heard Nikki mutter under her breath as she turned her back on him and opened her bedroom door just far enough to slip through, closing it in his face.

The distinct snick of metal on metal told him she’d locked the door.

He let her comment pass. He wasn’t about to get into another discussion that would get them nowhere.

He spoke to her through the heavy wooden panel. “I’ll be downstairs. Make sure your balcony door is locked. Call me if you need me.”

He got no response from the bedroom.

Considering how she felt about him, he’d be lucky if she let him know if the house caught fire. She’d probably take the baby and run without waking him.

Joe made the rounds and checked all the windows upstairs as well as the French doors leading to the balconies off each bedroom. He found bedding in the main linen closet in the hallway. Then, restless and uneasy, he went downstairs and checked all the doors and windows a second time.

Finally he threw his blanket and pillow on a couch in the TV room off the kitchen. He figured the most vulnerable part of the house to be the windows and doors facing the alley, so he picked a room on the ground floor at the back of the house to bed down. He unstrapped his holster and placed his revolver on the coffee table within easy reach.

He tried to get comfortable on the too short couch and listened to the night sounds—the occasional car, the rustle of the trees, the bark of a dog. Civilized sounds of a very upscale neighborhood settling in for the night.

He dozed and awoke to a baby’s cry, and the wonder struck him again.

He had a son. A baby boy he’d yet to hold in his arms.

Nikki awoke when Michael stirred in his playpen. Even though she ached all over from the roughing up she’d taken yesterday by the two men who’d broken in, she’d gotten some sleep. She didn’t want to admit it was because of Joe’s reassuring presence in her house.

Her hands got clammy whenever she thought about what had happened last night. She’d never experienced that kind of terror before. One man had held her arms so tightly behind her back she thought he might wrench them out of their sockets. Her shoulders still ached.

Early morning sunlight slanted through the blinds at her window. She rolled onto her back as she watched the glow brighten the pale silk wall covering. Here in the bed she’d grown up in, the silent early morning seemed so normal, but she knew it was anything but.

Joe was somewhere in the house.

As far as she knew, the police hadn’t caught the men who had broken in and threatened her. They could return any time.

As bad as the break-in had been, she doubted it would be the hardest thing she would face while she was here.

Convincing the court to release her trust fund would be beyond difficult. Her father had tied it to the company for tax purposes. She had no evidence to prove her father had not been behind the theft from his now bankrupt company, or an accomplice to the murder of his partner’s secretary. She knew in her heart that he never would commit those crimes, but how could she persuade a court of that?

The fact that all her money was tied up in her father’s company was one of the things that convinced her that he was innocent. He never would have run off without a word and left her destitute. Her father loved her.

Nikki pushed the covers back and sat up, shivering in the cold room. Her appointment with her father’s attorney was hours away, but she’d have to take the bus downtown so she needed to get moving.

She tore her thoughts away from the unpleasantness and turned her stiff body with a groan to watch her son as he wiggled and squirmed his way to wakefulness.

He was a lot like her. His stomach told him to wake up before he was ready to face the day. She smiled as she watched him stretch and yawn, his eyes still firmly closed.

Nikki loved Michael beyond comprehension. His well-being would always be her first consideration.

She’d made a major mistake having a relationship with Joe, but the fact he was Michael’s father couldn’t be changed. It had been her mistake, and her son didn’t need to suffer for it. Michael would need a man in his life as he got older.

Could she survive being around Joe? Too much history existed between them, too many memories that refused to fade. Their relationship hadn’t lasted long, but had been intense enough to burn indelible pictures into her brain.

Without a thought, she’d screamed for him when the break-in occurred. She’d wanted to fly into his arms when he’d shown up. If she let her guard down he’d be back in her bed. All he had to do was look at her and her body tingled in all the places he used to touch with such skill.

Her mother used to tell her life wouldn’t give her more than she could handle. But her mother hadn’t lived long enough to meet Joe.

Michael opened his eyes and gave her a big toothless smile that never failed to warm her heart. Still sitting on the edge of the mattress, she leaned over the playpen tucked between her bed and the wall. “Hi there, sweetheart. Did you have a good sleep?”

He gurgled and tried to roll over, a maneuver he hadn’t quite mastered. Nikki picked him up and gave him a hug, nuzzling into his soft neck.

She scooted back onto the bed and lay him on the mattress beside her. Leaning over him, she said, “You know what? You don’t smell so fresh. Let’s get you cleaned up before you eat.”

She heard a click and looked over her shoulder.

“Good morning.” Joe stood in her open doorway.

A door she’d locked last night. The small feeling of security and seclusion the door afforded evaporated. She had come home hoping for sanctuary. Instead she was living with an enemy who lacked scruples when it came to her privacy.

He was freshly shaved and dressed, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, his hair still wet from the shower. Aside from the holster strapped to his left shoulder, he looked good enough to eat.

She swallowed hard at the thought, remembering how he would taste and smell if she buried her nose in the spot just under his ear.

She tried to convince herself that the ripples of lust rolling through her body were caused by nothing more than an over-abundance of postnatal hormones. That had to be the reason, given the fact that she hated the man.

“What do you want?” she snapped, her voice harsh. The unwelcome memories that assailed her made her furious. How could he bring her treacherous body alive by just standing in her bedroom doorway?

His bland expression didn’t change. “I’ll be gone for about two hours. Stay in, keep the cordless phone with you, and call 911 if you hear any noises you don’t recognize. I’ve got a black-and-white unit patrolling the block.”

At least there would be police in the neighborhood. Her cordless phone was useless. Her vulnerability to both Joe and the assailants made her angry.

“Get out.” She turned back to the baby, who was studying his hand as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

As soon as he left, she was leaving herself. She had an appointment with the attorney.

“I’m concerned about my son’s safety.” His tone was cold. “Stop acting like a spoiled child.”

My son. He sounded so possessive it frightened her. What if he did try to take Michael away from her? “I want you to get out.”

“I don’t care what you want.” He cut her off. “Michael’s safety is my only interest here.”

His only interest. Nikki felt an irrational sting of emotion that she wasn’t included in his concern, then chided herself for even noticing. She took a deep breath. “I don’t—”

Rudely Joe raised his hand and cut her off again, infuriating her.

They stared at each other for several heartbeats before Joe spoke. “You didn’t answer my question last night. Who knew you were coming back?”

She hesitated for a long moment before she spoke. Lord, she wanted to ignore him, but she knew he wouldn’t go away until he got the answers he wanted. The man had the tenacity of a pit bull.

“My father’s attorney. He contacted a federal judge to obtain permission from the court so I could stay here. I don’t know which judge.”

“Why did you come back?” he asked, his accusing tone making her feel like one of his suspects.

She refused to tell him anything about her personal life. He didn’t need to know how very vulnerable she was right now.

“To tie up some loose ends.” Michael squirmed and stuck out his lower lip, then began to suck on his fist. She knew the signs of hunger. He’d be wailing in a minute.

“What loose ends?” He stared at her intently.

“What I do is none of your business,” she spit back at him. He reminded her of a predator looking for signs of weakness.

He opened his mouth to ask another question and Nikki put her hands up, signaling an end to their conversation. “I need to change the baby’s diaper and feed him. I thought you said you were leaving.”

He shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep the doors locked.” He said, ignoring her demand that he not return.

Why did he want her to lock the doors, she thought sourly. Locks didn’t keep the housebreakers out last night or Joe out this morning. She reasoned she was safer leaving for her appointment than she was staying home.

Agreeing to nothing, she said, “Close the door.”

She turned her back on him and busied herself unzipping the baby’s sleeper.

Behind her the door closed and she fought down the irrational urge to throw something at it. Damn the man. He could bring out the worst in her without even breaking a sweat.

After changing and nursing her son, she put the sleepy baby back to bed. He’d nap for at least an hour, giving her a chance to get ready.

Nikki took a shower and dressed for the day in a blue silk business suit two years out of date. It was the best she could do. Her wardrobe was the last thing she could afford to spend money on now.

She gave herself a critical once-over in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. The skirt length was wrong, but the fabric was quality and the lines classic, even though the skirt hung loosely and the jacket fit too tightly over her fuller breasts.

She knew the value of a professional appearance. She had too much pride to go to her father’s attorney, Fielder Carey, looking desperate. She could only hope he would agree to help her without asking for a retainer.

The Walker family’s credit rating had slipped so far she had her doubts he would agree to delayed payment.

For good measure she damned Joe again for further complicating her life as she headed down the stairs. Even without him she already had as much on her plate as she could handle.

Needing coffee and something to eat, Nikki went through the dining room and butler’s pantry into the kitchen.

Joe had left her a fresh pot of coffee. The sight of the full carafe brought back bittersweet memories of a year ago. Of coming downstairs when Joe had spent the night to find fresh coffee, a note, and sometimes a flower from the garden.

Usually he’d left for work before she’d awakened. He knew how she struggled to wake up in the mornings and always made sure he left coffee waiting.

His thoughtfulness about little things had drawn her to him. She’d been so needy, feeling frightened, deserted and unloved at her father’s disappearance. She’d clung to him like a fool, too desperate to see he was using her to get to her father.

In those few weeks she’d thought she’d fallen in love with him. Emotions threatened to swamp her, and she reached to turn on the television and drown them out.

The audio came on first with a description of a home invasion robbery. Legs shaking, she slid onto a stool at the counter. As the screen resolved into a clear picture of her home, she put her head down on the counter and tried not to cry, longing for the anonymity of the small town in Canada where she’d lived with her aunt and awaited Michael’s birth.

Nikki lifted her head and stared at the perky bright-eyed newswoman intent on bringing everyone up to date on current events, as well as handing out reminders of last year’s scandal.

It was like having someone tear the scab off a half-healed wound.

The nightmare was never going to go away. Naively she’d hoped the media would consider the break-in last night too trivial to air, and the murder, the missing M. Raymond Walker and his millions old news, not worth a mention.

So much for quietly returning home. This latest incident would only make it harder to convince the court she knew nothing about her father’s disappearance.

Nikki laid her head back down on the counter, fighting the urge to go back upstairs, crawl into bed and pull the covers up over her head.

Chapter 3

Nikki left the stroller in a corner and stood in the reception area of the law firm of Richards, Carey and White. She held Michael and took slow deep breaths to settle the flutter of nerves in her midsection.

She’d been in contact with Mr. Carey during the past year, but she hadn’t told him about the baby.

Michael’s coos sounded loud in the hushed atmosphere of rich walnut paneling, leather chairs and Oriental rugs. She shifted her infant son to cover the spot on her jacket where he’d spit up during the bus ride downtown.

Fielder Carey, tall and handsome with silver-gray hair and conservative suit, strode toward her, his step faltering only slightly when his eyes traveled from her face to the baby she held.

“Nikki, dear, it’s so good to see you. I was worried about you after I heard about last night.”

For a startled moment Nikki thought he meant he knew that Joe had moved in. Then she realized he was talking about the break-in.

“Hello Mr. Carey. This is my son, Michael.” The baby chose that particular moment to blow an impressive spit bubble, his latest trick.

A startled, angry look crossed his patrician features, then quickly disappeared as he glanced at Michael. Nikki wasn’t surprised by his reaction.

Being of the same generation, he would hold the same opinions as her father. Unmarried women shouldn’t have babies, and if they made mistakes, they certainly shouldn’t be aired in public.

“I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me about the baby.” The mild censure in his tone made her want to squirm. He was her only ally in this mess.

Having no good answer for him, she mustered up a smile as he took her hand and leaned in to give her a customary peck on the cheek.

“Shall we go back to my office?” He took her arm and managed to smooth out the awkward moment as he guided her down the familiar hallway.

Nikki settled in an armchair, the baby in the crook of her arm.

Carey slid into a massive desk chair done in the same burgundy leather. His desktop was so tidy it looked like a photograph in an ad for upscale office furniture.

Nikki cleared her throat and decided to get right to the point, not sure how much time she had before Michael would need to eat. She couldn’t picture herself unbuttoning her jacket to feed her child in front of the attorney.

“Mr. Carey, thank you for getting me permission to stay at the house. I’m sure you are more aware of my financial situation than I am. I need help, but right now I can’t afford to pay you.”

He shook his head and smiled at her as if she were a slow child. “Nikki, I am your family friend as well as attorney. My fee is not an issue.”

Nikki felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. He might not approve of her, but he wouldn’t abandon her, either. “Thank you. That means a lot to me right now.”

He nodded and didn’t speak for a moment as he repositioned a gold pen on his desk blotter so that it aligned perfectly with a slender matching letter opener. “Before we discuss your situation, have you heard from your father?”

The question took Nikki by surprise. She stared at the attorney, wondering for a brief moment if she had misunderstood his question. A year ago he’d agreed with her that her father was probably dead, a victim of his business partner.

Was Mr. Carey keeping something from her? Her heart raced. Was it possible her father had abandoned her for a fortune in stolen money? She suspected that might hurt more than finding out he really was dead.

She cleared her throat, struggling to maintain a normal tone of voice. “No. I haven’t heard anything. Have you?” She didn’t know whether to be hopeful or angry.

“No. Not directly. But a friend of my nephew Don returned recently from a fishing trip. He saw a man on a small island just south of Martinique who looked so much like your father that he called out to him. The man turned away and disappeared into a crowd before he could talk with him. Don said his friend sounded so sure it was Ray.”

The attorney’s words hung in the air as Nikki battled to grasp the possibility that her father was alive.

If it was true, if her father was alive, why hadn’t he tried to contact her? Would he have thought to look for her in Canada? She’d gone to her mother’s hometown.

Could Joe be right? She lifted Michael to her shoulder and absently patted his back. Had her father decided the money was more important than her, his only child?

She wasn’t sure she could handle that truth.

Tension bunched the muscles between her shoulder blades into a hard knot.

“Nikki, dear, are you all right?” Carey was on his feet, coming around the desk.

“Yes. You took me by surprise.” Nikki waved him back to his chair.

“I’m sorry. I thought you had entertained the possibility…” The attorney’s voice trailed away.

His words mingled with the strains of classical music that drifted quietly out of hidden speakers.

She’d denied the possibility her father was anything but a victim from the beginning. The alternative hurt too much. She wanted to keep on denying, but now it sat like a rock on her chest, making breathing difficult.

Had he murdered his secretary and taken millions from his company, then run off without a word to her?

Carey’s voice droned on and she fought to pay attention.

“It is only a chance. After all, there’s bound to be a false sighting or two after all the publicity. I’m checking it out.”

She grasped at his explanation like a drowning woman would grab a life ring. It hadn’t been her father in Martinique. It must have been someone who resembled her father. He couldn’t steal and murder. And he loved her too much to abandon her.

As much as she wanted to leave and not face the possibility Mr. Carey had just raised, she didn’t have that luxury. She had to think of Michael now.

“Is there a chance we can get the court to separate the house from the Fortuna bankruptcy?” Her great-grandfather had built the home and it had always been in the family, but she’d have to sell it. There was no way she could afford to live there.

“It’s possible, I suppose, but what would be the point?” Carey asked.

Nikki was surprised at his response. “I need to sell it.”

He shot her a sympathetic look. “Nikki. I thought you knew.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself. “Knew what?”

“It’s mortgaged to the hilt. If it wasn’t for the Federal seizure the bank would have sold it months ago. No payment has been made on any of the loans for a year.”

Nikki felt as if she’d taken a blow to her midsection. She managed to get through the rest of the appointment and ask the questions she needed answered about selling off her personal belongings before Michael began whimpering from hunger.

She stood and picked up her bag. “I want to thank you, Mr. Carey. I appreciate all your help.”

Always the gentleman, Carey came to his feet. “I’ll walk you out.”

His phone began to ring. She gestured for him to stay where he was. “I know the way. I’ll be in touch.”

She walked to the reception area and was wrestling with the stroller when the main door to the offices opened and Don Carey, Fielder Carey’s nephew and junior partner, came through the door.

He looked startled to see her, and a strange look passed over his face when he spotted Michael in her arms.

“Nikki, hello!” He recovered his composure and took the stroller from her, snapping it open.

“Hello, Don. How have you been?” A few years ago her father and Fielder had tried very hard to play matchmaker for herself and Don, but there hadn’t been any chemistry between them and the relationship had ended badly when she had refused to date him any longer. Don didn’t take rejection very well.

“Just great. And you? Is this your baby?”

“Yes. This is Michael.”

They stood there awkwardly for a few moments until an unsmiling young woman in a business suit came through the doors after Don and handed him a file, then pointed at her watch as she walked by.

“Well,” he said shifting his weight from one foot to another, “I have a meeting.”

“It was good to see you.” It wasn’t, but Nikki knew she was expected to say something polite, even though she still remembered the ugly things he had said to her at their last meeting. He nodded and held the door for her.

She felt him staring at her as she left the law offices, but she didn’t turn around.

She walked to a nearby bus stop. After she climbed on the bus for the ride home, she settled the baby under a blanket so she could feed him. As he ate she forced herself to think about what she needed to do next. Her situation was even worse than she had thought.

She would have to find a place to live and get a job. According to Carey, she could only sell the things out of the house that had come directly to her from her mother’s estate.

The antiques and sterling should bring in enough to give her a start, but the thought of losing what little she had of her mother made her want to weep.

Nikki felt so torn about her father. She wanted to hope he was alive and well, and at the same time she was hurt beyond telling that he could leave her behind with no word.

Could he have done all the things he was accused of and turned his back on his only child? The possibility was like a deep cut. She knew it would hurt but she kept poking at it anyway.

She stared down at her son, trying to imagine leaving him, knowing she couldn’t, for any reason.

Exhausted by the stressful morning, Nikki struggled down the steps of the city bus at the stop closest to home. Michael in one arm, and the bulky stroller in the other, she ignored the grumbling of the bus driver because she was taking too long to exit.

The lighthearted little jingle played constantly on local radio and television urging everyone to take the bus had failed to mention cranky bus drivers, other passengers who brought imaginary friends with them and patrons who failed to bathe regularly, if at all. She missed her car desperately, but she’d sold it months ago to help pay for Michael’s delivery.

She whacked her elbow on the metal handhold as she lurched off the last step. The bus pulled away from the curb, belching noxious exhaust that enveloped her in an eye-stinging cloud.

She sighed, trying not to feel sorry for herself. She’d better get used to public transportation. After what her father’s attorney had just told her, it would be a long time before she would be able to afford a car. Any car.

Apparently the ride had not bothered Michael at all. He was sound asleep. She clutched him against her shoulder with one hand and struggled to unfold the unruly stroller with the other. Whoever had invented the contraption must have had a sadistic streak.

She finally got the stroller open, settled the baby and started the three block walk home. She blinked and recognized the changes in her vision as the beginning of one of her killer headaches.

Great, she thought as she squinted against the sun. Just what she needed to round out a wonderful morning.

As she pushed the stroller down the quiet residential street she concentrated on her sleeping son through a kaleidoscope of colored lights that always signaled the start of a migraine.

If she hurried home, took her medication and got herself into a dark quiet room quickly enough, she might be able to stop the pain before it blossomed into a full-blown headache.

She’d started having the headaches after she’d arrived in Canada. A doctor had told her they could be stress-related. Alone, pregnant and her father missing, she hadn’t needed an M.D. to figure that out.

Michael sucked contentedly on his fist as he slept. He usually napped during this part of the day, and that would give her a chance to lie down.

The wickedly beautiful colors that had fringed her vision disappeared and the throbbing started across her forehead. One and a half blocks, she chanted to herself. She would be home in one and a half blocks. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

Think of something besides the flare of pain. Think about what you will do tomorrow. She had to contact the man who ran the exclusive antiques shop on West Lewis Street. If Mr. Denny didn’t want to handle her things, he could probably recommend someone else.

She felt like someone had buried a hatchet in her forehead. Tears blurred her eyes so much she stumbled over a uneven spot in the sidewalk. All she had to do was get around the next curve and up her front walk.

Home. King’s X. Ollie, Ollie, in free.

For today, at least, it was her home.

Home and Joe. Dreams of him coming to her bed had awakened her during the night, with her nightgown twisted up and her body drenched in sweat.

Her mind knew she couldn’t trust him, that he was no good for her, but her body refused to get the message.

Just as she came around the corner, she saw Joe’s car in front of her house.

He stood by his car, his hands on his hips, sport coat drawn back so that she could see the weapon strapped under his arm. She wondered vaguely if he had practiced the intimidating pose in front of a mirror. He was very good at it.

“Where did you go?” Chin jutting forward, he had the body language of an angry man.

She squinted up at him, the sunlight unbearably harsh. “For a walk.”

“Do you always dress up in a suit and heels to take the baby for a walk?” He scowled at her clothes.

Nikki ignored him as she walked by and pushed the stroller through the gate and up the long front walk, bumping over the rough flagstones. It was none of his business where she went or who she saw.

Her stomach roiled with nausea. If she stood out here and argued with him she might disgrace herself in the front yard.

She didn’t have to turn around to know he was right behind her. She could hear him breathing.

She tipped the stroller on its back wheels to maneuver it up the porch steps. Joe stepped past her and picked up the whole thing, setting it gently on the porch. His calm handling of the stroller did not hide the tension in his shoulders. Carefully he set the brake.

She fumbled in her bag and fished out her house key. It slid from her fingers and bounced off her shoe. She looked down in dismay, knowing if she bent over to pick it up the pain in her head would double.

Joe reached down and scooped the key up, then inserted it in the lock, his arm brushing against hers as she stumbled out of his way, attempting to avoid contact.

“What’s the matter, Nikki?” he said sharply, his hand on the door handle.

He just stood there, blocking the way. “I don’t want you here. Go away.” Instead of the sharp command she had intended, her voice sounded thin and whiney, something she couldn’t stand, especially in herself.

He turned and stared at her and she fought the urge to squirm under his direct gaze. She knew how pathetic she looked when she had a migraine.

He held the door open a few inches and stared at her. Just let me in so I can lie down, she thought, unwilling to plead aloud for what she needed most.

“Nikki, what’s the matter?” he repeated.

This time the words were the same but his tone was soft and concerned. He let go of the door and slid his big warm hand around her elbow, rubbing his thumb over her sleeve.

Oh, she thought, don’t be nice. She couldn’t handle nice from him right now.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

He ran his hand up her arm. “Don’t tell me nothing. You look terrible.” He leaned toward her.

God, how she missed his touch. The feel of his breath against her face as he coaxed her with his soft voice made her knees weak. Even his unflattering words sounded good when he said them like that. Self defense had her pulling her arm out of his grasp.

“I’m fine, just tired. Get back so I can bring the baby in,” she said, fighting the urge to forget the past and melt against him, take strength from him.

He frowned at her answer and ran his finger down her cheek. “You’re pale and—”

She had to stop him before he wore down her resistance. “I said I’m fine,” she said sharply.

The pain in her head stabbed and the nausea roiled. She shoved past him and bolted into the downstairs powder room.

Joe stepped back as she pushed past him and stared after her. She must really be upset. She’d left him alone with the baby. He hadn’t missed the fact that she acted as if she had to protect his own son from him.

He turned and released the brake on the stroller and wheeled his sleeping son into the house. He closed the front door and then stared down at the baby’s tiny hand, curled against his cheek.

Michael, he thought. My son Michael. The wonder of it struck him anew.

He reached to unhook the safety belt around the baby’s middle, aching to pick him up. It would piss her off to come back and find him holding the baby, but he didn’t care. She was just going to have to get used to the idea, because he’d given her all the time he was going to.

Before he could unclasp the belt, he heard the sound of retching coming from the bathroom.

Damn, he’d been right. He’d known something was wrong the minute he spotted her pushing the stroller up the street. He could tell something was wrong from her hunched-up shoulders and the careful way she’d been walking.

Joe left the sleeping baby and found Nikki sitting on the floor of the guest bathroom, her skirt hiked up her thighs and her forehead resting on the rim of the toilet.

He wrung out a hand towel in cold water and slid his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to an upright position. Gently he wiped her face and frowned at her moan. She was as white as the porcelain of the toilet. “Pick up a bug?”

“Migraine.” She whispered the word.

Since when did she have migraines? He helped her out of her jacket. Maybe she didn’t get them very often. Their relationship had only lasted two weeks, and as she had pointed out last night, there was a lot he didn’t know about her.

“Can you stand up?” He threw the towel into the sink and hooked his hands under her arms, pulling her gently to her feet.

Unresisting, she allowed him to lead her out of the bathroom. “Come on, you need to be in bed.”

Her step faltered and she squinted into the entry where the stroller stood. “Michael—”

“Michael is asleep. Let’s worry about you for now.” He turned her toward the stairs and caught her as she stumbled. She hadn’t lifted her foot high enough to clear the first riser. Trying not to jostle her, he slid one arm around her shoulders and the other behind her knees, picking her up and holding her against his chest.

It felt too good to have her in his arms.

She held herself with an odd stiffness, as if she was afraid he might drop her. “Relax, I’ve got you.”

She didn’t say anything, nor did she loosen up. He climbed the stairs and deposited her gently on her bed. She struggled to sit up and he put his hand on her chest, forcing her back down on the mattress.

“Just tell me what you need.” God, she was stubborn.

“Close the drapes,” she whispered.

He left her to pull the curtains across the windows and the French doors. By the time he got back to the bed she was lying down, eyes closed, tears seeping from under her eyelids.

It killed him to see her in such pain. “Do you have medication?”

“Bathroom,” came the whispered reply.

Joe found the prescription bottle in the medicine cabinet in her bathroom, noted the Canadian address. He quickly scanned the dosage and shook two red-and-white capsules into his palm. He filled a glass with water, wet another washcloth, and headed back to the bedroom.

She lay as still as a mummy on the satin comforter. “Nikki, I’m going to sit you up so you can take these.”

He sat on the side of her bed and helped her come up onto her elbow. She open her eyes a slit until she found his extended palm and took the pills one at a time, placing them in her mouth. He held the glass to her lips so she could wash them down. Then he lowered her back to the pillow and smoothed the cold cloth over her eyes and forehead. A small groan escaped from between her pinched lips.

“According to the bottle, you can have another painkiller in an hour. I’ll watch the time.” He frowned down at her clothing. She wouldn’t be very comfortable lying there in her clothes.

He unbuttoned the waistband of her skirt, eased the side zipper down and slid the garment off over her feet.

His hands shook. The last time he’d undressed her it had been to have hot sweaty sex.

Get a grip, Galtero. Even if she were perfectly healthy he didn’t stand a chance of ending up in bed with her.

His common sense told him he was nuts but his trembling hands and aching groin remembered the smooth warmth of her skin. He reached up under her slip and snagged the waistband of her panty hose, pulling them down her legs.

The familiar scent of her rose up and hit him like a fist. Joe struggled to keep his mind on the fact she was sick and uninterested, not particularly in that order.

Being careful to jostle her as little as possible, he peeled her blouse off each arm, slid his hand under her back to lift her slightly, and pulled the garment from under her unresisting body.

The utter lack of reaction from Nikki as he undressed her had him worried. If he had touched her last night she would have chewed his hand off at the wrist. She must feel really lousy.

With difficulty, he shifted his thoughts back to the situation at hand. “Nikki, when will the baby need to eat?”

He wanted to see his son at her breast again, to watch her feed him. Could she do that after she’d taken the pain killer?

“He’ll let you know,” she whispered.

He stood by the side of the bed and watched her, wishing there was more he could do. It twisted up his gut to see her in pain. Using the cloth on her forehead, he wiped at the tears on her face, then smoothed the cloth back in place.

“Okay. I’ll be back to check on you.” He glanced at his watch, flipped the edge of the comforter over her and left, hoping the prescription worked fast.

Joe headed downstairs, intent on finally getting acquainted with his son. The words still blew him away. His son. He wondered if he would ever get used to saying them, feeling the little burst of pride.

Michael still slept peacefully in the stroller by the front door. Joe unfastened the belt securing him and lifted his warm, relaxed body into his arms. The baby startled, opened his eyes, then quickly settled back to sleep.

He’d held his nieces and nephews when they were this small, but they had never felt so precious in his arms.

Joe carried the baby into the living room and settled on the couch. He laid the baby on his lap, Michael’s head at Joe’s knees.

Joe unzipped the bulky fuzzy suit and peeled it off the sleeping child much the way he had just undressed Nikki, gently, so as not to disturb his slumber. He tossed the garment on the couch beside him and looked at his son, dressed in a tiny shirt and a diaper. His small arms hung limply at his sides, and his legs were drawn up.

With one finger that looked rough and brown against the baby’s fair, smooth skin, Joe hooked a tiny foot and marveled at the perfect toes and tiny toenails.

He didn’t know exactly how old the child was. He didn’t know his own son’s birth date. He tamped down a spurt of anger. Missing out on Michael’s first months of life riled him. What right did Nikki think she had to keep the information about the baby to herself?

Did she think he wouldn’t believe her? They had both used birth control, but one look at this baby had told him all he needed to know. No DNA test was needed to identify Michael as a Galtero.

A Galtero. Part of him. Emotions welled up as he scooped the baby up against his chest and Michael nestled in against Joe’s heart.

The baby was his.

Galtero looks ran strong in the family. Auntie Rosie had baby pictures of Joe, his siblings and cousins. This baby looked like every other child on Auntie Rosie’s mantel.

How much had he already missed of his son’s life?

Michael stirred and Joe lowered the baby back to his lap. The baby opened his eyes. He blinked and stared at Joe, seeming to study his face.

Joe smiled at the solemn little features and his son rewarded him with a toothless grin, then a frothing of spit bubbles and a wild waving of his little fists.

“Well, aren’t you talented?”

Michael stilled at the sound of Joe’s voice and then chortled a reply.

Joe discovered what love at first sight felt like. A warmth of feelings spread and grew in his chest.

“Michael, I’m going to make a promise to you right now.”

Michael stopped waving his little hands.

“You have my vow that no matter what happens between your mother and I, I will always be there for you.”

Joe scooped his son up, cradling his tiny head in his palms, and kissed his forehead. Michael made a grab for Joe’s ear.

The touch of those small fingers went straight to Joe’s heart.

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