Cowboys.

Every boy’s hero…every woman’s fantasy.

They can rope, they can ride…

But can they change a diaper?

In Vicki Lewis Thompson’s bestselling miniseries,

we discovered what happened when three intrepid cowpokes bravely ventured where none of them had ever gone before—the nursery!

But now that they’re there—and discover they like it!—they’re in for an even bigger surprise!

Because a fourth strapping cowboy has just stepped forward and announced…

Dear Reader,

It’s time to pop the cork on the bubbly and break out the fireworks! I’m celebrating the grand finale of my THREE COWBOYS & A BABY miniseries and my first-ever single title release!

I hope you’ve stayed with me through the series. If not, I’ll wait while you catch up. In Harlequin Temptation #780, The Colorado Kid, rancher Sebastian Daniels was sure baby Elizabeth belonged to him. Wrangler Travis Evans had a different idea and laid claim to the little girl he called Lizzie in Two in the Saddle (#784). While these two cowboys were busy sorting out their paternity issues, Boone Connor showed up in Boone’s Bounty (#788), and insisted the child belonged to him.

All three of these books were published in the Harlequin Temptation series, but the rip-roaring conclusion needed more room. More specifically, my hero, Nat Grady, needed more room—especially considering the shock he’s in for. Raised by an abusive father, wary of emotional entanglements, he has no intention of ever becoming a daddy. But Mother Nature has other ideas….

Writing this single title has made me as excited as a cowpoke headed into town after his first trail drive. So here’s That’s My Baby! If I were a smoker, I’d be passing out cigars!

Warmly,

That’s My Baby!
Vicki Lewis Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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With love to my husband Larry,

whose faith in me has never dimmed.

CONTENTS

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

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

JESSICA FRANKLIN’S STOMACH gurgled with anxiety as she waited at JFK for the 5:45 flight from London. After seventeen months apart, she had to meet Nat Grady, the man she’d loved—still loved, damn it—disguised as a bag lady. Then she had to tell him about Elizabeth, the baby he had no idea they’d conceived, the baby she’d left in Colorado to keep her safe.

The embarrassing truth was, Jessica had picked up a stalker. She thought of it like that, as if she’d contracted a deadly disease and was no longer fit to be a mother. Growing up, she’d felt stifled by her wealthy father’s attempts to protect her from kidnappers. She’d left home, spurning a life of bulletproof cars and bodyguards, insisting she could live quietly and anonymously without all that. It infuriated her to be wrong.

About ten feet away, a woman clucked and cooed at the baby in her arms. Jessica ached every time she saw a mother and child. For her own good she shouldn’t watch them, but she couldn’t seem to stop torturing herself. Babies drew her like magnets. When she spotted one, she’d stare shamelessly as she tried to guess the child’s age and wondered whether Elizabeth would look anything like that, act anything like that.

This one looked to be around eight months old, Elizabeth’s age, and he was a boy, judging from the outfit. Jessica couldn’t imagine her baby this size. When she’d left her at the Rocking D Ranch, Elizabeth had been so tiny, just barely two months old. Jessica had never imagined that their separation would be this long. But now that Nat was home, she would see her baby again. Soon.

The little boy laughed and Jessica counted four teeth. Elizabeth would have teeth by now. She would be crawling, getting into everything, learning to make noises that were the beginnings of speech.

Like ma-ma.

Jessica endured the pain. At least Elizabeth was safe. She’d known she could count on her friends Sebastian, Travis and Boone to keep her baby that way until Nat came home and they could all decide what to do.

Weary passengers trudged into the gate area from customs and Jessica’s pulse raced as she anticipated the meeting to come. She still hadn’t decided on her approach. The thought of Nat Grady brought up so many emotions she had to ask them to stand in line and take turns being heard.

Usually the first feeling to shoulder its way to the front was anger. She’d fallen head over heels in love with the guy, but for the year they’d been involved, he’d insisted they keep their relationship secret from everyone but his secretary, Bonnie, a woman who had invented the word discreet. Even his best friends, the three men she’d left in charge of Elizabeth, didn’t know she and Nat had been seeing each other.

She should have recognized the secrecy thing as a warning signal, but love was blind, and she’d accepted Nat’s explanation that his friends were a nosy bunch and he didn’t want outside interference in their relationship until he and Jessica knew where it was going. All the while he had jolly well known where it was going, she thought bitterly. On a train bound for nowhere.

If only she could hate him for that. God, how she’d tried. Instead, she kept thinking of what he’d said the night they’d broken up. I shouldn’t have let you waste your time on me. I’m not worth it.

Then he’d left her, his real estate business and his friends to head for a tiny, war-torn country where he’d worked as a volunteer in the refugee camps. Along with her other emotions connected to Nat, Jessica battled guilt. If she hadn’t pushed him to end the secrecy and marry her, he wouldn’t have left the country. She was sure of it. He’d have stayed in Colorado, making love to her, the sweetest love she’d ever known.

Instead, to get away from her and the demons she’d demanded that he face, he’d plunged into a violent place where the lines of battle blurred and changed every day. As a civilian he had no weapons and no military training to protect him. He’d spent seventeen months in danger on account of her, and if he’d been killed or hurt, she would have blamed herself.

She was also to blame for the baby, after he’d told her flat out he never wanted kids. A woman her age should have known antibiotics canceled the effect of birth control pills. But she had some gaps in her sexual education, thanks to growing up shadowed by her own personal bodyguard. She hadn’t known.

She needed to tell him it was her responsibility. Still, she thought he should know about the baby, in case the stalker got lucky. But before she told him anything, she’d have to convince him who she was. The dark wig, the baggy clothes and the thick glasses wouldn’t look familiar to him. But once he’d figured out it was her, what would she say first?

Nat, we have a baby girl named Elizabeth. Too abrupt. A man who’d said he never wanted children might need to be eased into that kind of discussion. Nat, I’m disguised like this because I have a stalker on my trail. Too much, too soon. He’d just returned from dodging bullets. He deserved a little peace and quiet before she gave him that bad news, coupled with the information that if anything happened to her he’d need to watch out for Elizabeth, whether he cared to or not.

Her stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a bagful of hot marbles.

A man in a business suit came toward the woman with the baby, and the baby bounced happily, reaching out for the man. When the father lifted the baby into his arms and showered him with kisses, Jessica had to look away.

She took off the glasses she was wearing as part of her disguise and brushed the tears from her eyes. She had to pay attention. Nat could be coming along any minute, and she didn’t want to miss him.

A tall man with a full beard and hair past his collar appeared in the stream of passengers. He wore a battered-looking leather jacket, jeans and boots. A scuffed backpack hung from one broad shoulder, a backpack not too different from the one she carried. Her gaze swept past him, then returned. He moved through the crowd with a familiar, fluid walk, as if he were striding along to a country tune. Nat walked that way.

She looked closer, past the rich brown of his beard, and her heart hammered. The mouth. She’d spent hours gazing at that chiseled mouth, classic as the mouth on one of her father’s prized Rodin sculptures. She’d spent even more hours kissing and being kissed by that mouth, and her tongue slid over her lips in remembrance. Nat. In spite of the anger and guilt, pure joy bloomed within her at the sight of him. Nat. He was here. He was okay.

Suddenly whatever she decided to say seemed unimportant. She just had to get to him, wrap her arms around him and give thanks that he’d returned in one piece. Her nightmares had begun the day she’d learned where he was, and CNN had been her lifeline ever since.

No matter how furiously she’d counseled herself to remain calm when she saw him, she was miles beyond calm. She was weepy with gratitude for his safe return. He was an oasis in the desert her life had become without him.

Drinking in the sight of him moving through the crowd, she sighed with happiness. Thank God he looked healthy, his skin tanned and his hair still lustrous, reflecting the terminal’s overhead lights. But she’d give him the herbal supplements she’d brought, anyway, and insist that he take them. He didn’t eat right under the best of circumstances, and no telling what he’d existed on over there.

He was so appealing that she couldn’t help wondering if he’d become involved with anyone while he was gone. A beautiful waif of a woman, perhaps, who spoke little English, but who had awakened his protective instincts. A woman who’d fallen deeply in love with the big, handsome American cowboy who’d come to help. Jessica knew how easily such a thing could happen, and her heart hurt.

But if he had found another to love, that wasn’t her business. He was free to do as he chose.

Seventeen months. That was a long time for a single man of thirty-three to go without sex. He might not have fallen in love, but he might have taken a woman to bed….

She wouldn’t ask. No, she definitely wouldn’t ask. But the thought made her want to cry.

Moving closer, she focused on his face, trying to meet his gaze. They’d had a magic connection between them, and maybe if she caught his eye, he’d see beyond her disguise and recognize her, heart to heart. He’d be startled, of course, and might wonder if she’d gone crazy while he was out of the country.

In a way she had. Crazy with worry…and love. Still love. But she wouldn’t let him know that she still loved him. She would be very careful about that, unless…unless he had gone a little crazy, too. Although she’d lectured herself to squash that hope like a bug, she’d let it live.

At last Nat glanced her way, and she opened her mouth to call to him. But instead of saying his name, she drew back in uncertainty. His gaze was so hard and uncompromising that it intimidated her. He’d changed.

For a minute she wondered if she’d been wrong in thinking this bearded man was Nat. No, she hadn’t been wrong. It was him. But his blue eyes, once so full of good humor, looked like chipped ice. She wondered what he’d seen in those camps that had put that grim look on his face.

He gave no sign of recognizing her as he turned and headed down the terminal. Her courage failed and she closed her mouth. But she had to catch him, had to let him know about the baby before he called anyone at the Rocking D in Colorado. Sure as the world someone at the ranch would tell him immediately that she’d left Elizabeth there, although she hadn’t named the father. But Nat would know, once he was told the baby’s age. She couldn’t let him find out that way.

She had to hurry to keep up with him. Dodging luggage, people and motorized carts, she kept him in sight as he followed the signs directing him toward ground transportation. She knew he planned to stay in the city for a few nights and take care of some business before flying back to Colorado. His secretary, the only person Nat had contacted before coming home, had said so.

Bonnie didn’t know about the baby or the stalker. She just thought she was helping Jessica create a romantic homecoming surprise for Nat. During the year Nat and Jessica had been secretly involved, Bonnie had set up many of their rendezvous locations, and she’d seemed to relish the role of matchmaker.

When Nat and Jessica had separated, Bonnie had called Jessica, urging her to try to patch things up. Jessica had refused, convinced that Nat had meant for the affair to end from the beginning, which was why he’d kept it such a secret. But when her pregnancy was confirmed, she’d called Bonnie and learned that Nat was out of the country and unreachable. Since then, Jessica had made use of her friendship with the secretary to find out exactly when Nat was due back.

The escalator foiled Jessica’s plans to catch up with him. People and wheeled carry-ons bunched onto the grooved metal steps between them and made it impossible for her to get close. But she didn’t really want to confront him here, anyway, she finally realized. Her news was upsetting enough without being delivered under harsh overhead lights with the din of people and the clatter of baggage to interfere with an emotional conversation.

He’d undoubtedly take a taxi from the airport to his hotel. She’d follow in another taxi and catch him in the lobby. Much better. Maybe they could go for a drink to discuss their options.

The chill of an October night cooled her overheated system as she bustled outside and followed him toward the taxi stand. She gained some valuable time as he convinced the cabdriver to let him ride in front. How like Nat to hate the idea of being chauffeured. She’d been drawn to his democratic instincts from the beginning.

She hated being chauffeured, too, but she didn’t have time to discuss that with the driver of the next taxi in line. With a quick no thanks, she brushed aside his offer to help with her backpack. “I’m in a big hurry,” she said as she hopped in the back seat.

“Right.” The driver hustled himself behind the wheel. “Where to?”

“Follow that cab,” she said, pointing to the one Nat had entered.

He swiveled in the seat to stare at her. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I am not kidding!” She panicked as the other cab pulled away from the curb. “That one! And don’t lose it!”

“You better have money,” the cabbie muttered as he started after Nat’s cab. “You better not be some nutcase who’s watched one too many James Bond movies, or I’ll drive you straight to the nearest precinct station and turn you over to the cops.”

“I have money.” Jessica watched Nat’s cab gain a little distance and clenched her jaw. “Just keep up with them. That cab has a vee-shaped scratch on the trunk. Did you notice that? That’s how you’ll know which one to follow.”

“I see the cab. I just wanna know what’s with the cops-and-robbers routine. I don’t wanna be a whatchamacallit—accomplice.”

“I’m not breaking the law.” Jessica was losing patience with the cabbie. She was pretty much out of patience, anyway, and being back in New York put her even more on edge. The closer they came to the jeweled city on the horizon, the more she felt the tug of her father’s influence.

“I don’t wanna get mixed up in anything,” the driver said. “I just wanna do my job, y’know?”

“In the movies, the cabdriver never complains about having to follow another taxi,” Jessica pointed out. “He just does it.”

“See? What did I tell you? You think you’re in a damn movie or somethin’! I’ll bet they just let you out of the nuthouse. Gave you a pack of meds and told you to have a nice life. And it’s my bad luck that you picked my cab to act out your delusions.”

“I’m perfectly sane.” Jessica might not like being chauffeured, but she was used to it, and she’d never had a driver question her the way this one was doing. Of course, she was used to limos. And this guy didn’t know who she was. He didn’t know the paper beside him on the front seat was the product of her father’s news empire. “Quick, he just changed lanes!”

The driver sounded highly insulted. “I can see that he changed lanes, lady. I didn’t start driving yesterday. Do you even know who’s in that cab?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, right. You probably think it’s Elvis.”

“I know who’s in the cab. I need to talk to him.”

“Why? Who is it?”

Many times as a child Jessica had watched her mother deal with questions she didn’t want to answer. Her mother would stiffen her spine and speak in what Jessica thought of as her to-the-manner-born voice. Jessica had never tried the technique, but she decided to give it a whirl.

Straightening in her seat, she lifted her chin and said, “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

Her effort seemed lost on the cabbie. “It sure as hell is my business! I’m transportin’ you in my cab! And I’d appreciate it if you’d lay off the high-and-mighty tone, unless you’re about to tell me you’re kissing cousins to the Rockefellers, which I sincerely doubt.”

Close, Jessica thought. But apparently she didn’t have the presence to carry it off. Then again, she did look like a bag lady. Maybe her mother’s success in turning aside impertinent questions had as much to do with her elegant clothes and her position in society as her tone of voice. Yet in her heart of hearts, Jessica believed that even dressed in rags with no fortune to command, her mother would make people do her bidding. She’d certainly kept her husband and daughter in line for years.

Jessica sighed. Barring a personality transplant, she’d need to give the cabbie some explanation for why they were tailing another cab into the city, or she was liable to be dumped by the side of the road. “The man in the other cab is an old boyfriend,” she said. “I’ve changed since we last met, and he didn’t recognize me, but I really need to talk to him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Maybe not,” she acknowledged, “but I have some information he needs to hear.”

“Aw, jeez, I know where this is goin’. We’re talkin’ about the patter of little feet, right?”

Jessica couldn’t think of anything but the truth. “You might say that.”

“Poor bastard. But them that plays, pays. I learned that one the hard way. Do you have any idea where he’s goin’?”

“To a hotel in the city, I imagine.”

The cabbie heaved a sigh. “All right, then. I’ll catch him for ya.”

“Thank you.” Jessica settled back against the seat as the sparkling skyscrapers of Manhattan hovered ever nearer. Habit caused her to pick out the Franklin Publishing Tower dangling between sky and earth like one of her mother’s diamond chokers.

She spoke only briefly with her parents these days, stopping long enough in her flight to put in a quick call every couple of weeks. They thought she was “seeing the country.” None of her conversations with them in the past few years had been significant, anyway, and she hadn’t seen them since she’d left home.

They didn’t approve of her decision to abandon their world and try to create her own life, and their attitude toward her had been curt ever since she’d moved to Colorado. Her current predicament, having a child out of wedlock and a stalker on her trail, would only confirm what they’d always assumed—that on her own she’d make a mess of things. She didn’t want to give them a chance to say we told you so.

“How far along are you?” the cabbie asked.

Jessica blinked and tried to figure out what he meant.

“When’s the baby due?” he asked, clarifying his question.

“I, um, already had her,” she said. “I left her with friends.”

“Wait a doggone minute! You already had the kid, and you’re just now nailing the father? Are you sure he’s the father and this isn’t some kind of shakedown?”

“I’m sure. He’s been out of the country. I couldn’t contact him before.”

The cabbie’s gaze flicked into the rearview mirror. “Okay, I’m gonna believe you. The reason is that your voice sounded strong when you said that. After all these years of drivin’ cab, I can tell when a passenger’s blowin’ smoke. You can hear it in their voice. So what did you name her?”

“Elizabeth.” Speaking the name brought a lump to Jessica’s throat and she wondered if she’d cry when she talked to Nat about the baby. She hoped she wouldn’t cry. She didn’t want his pity, only his support.

“Pretty name. I got two kids. Both boys. Rory and Jonathan. I had to marry my wife on account of Rory, but it’s worked out okay.”

Worked out okay. The lukewarm comment made Jessica shiver. She’d never in a million years want a marriage that worked out okay. Even if Nat had a burst of responsibility and proposed marriage to give Elizabeth two parents, Jessica wouldn’t agree. But Nat wouldn’t propose. Marriage scared him to death. The only thing that scared him worse was fatherhood.

“Your guy doesn’t seem to be goin’ into Midtown, like you thought,” the cabbie said. “Looks like we’re headed for the Hudson Parkway. Still want me to follow him?”

“Absolutely.” The route made her nervous, though. She knew it only too well. But it was only a coincidence that the first time she set foot back in New York since leaving her parents’ estate, Nat would lead her back in the direction of the Hudson Valley, straight toward Franklin Hall.

“Like I said, I hope you got money,” the driver said. “For all we know, the guy’s headed for Vermont to see the leaves.”

“I doubt it.”

“You ever seen the leaves?”

“Yes.” She’d taken a trip through Vermont in the limo with her parents the October she turned nine. The long black car had seemed to take up far too much space on the narrow back roads, and it had looked ridiculous sitting parked on the village square in one of the hamlets where’d they’d stopped for hot cider.

She’d been aware of people staring, but she’d grown used to that. She’d ignored them and gazed longingly at three children playing in a yard full of red, yellow and orange leaves. They’d rake them into piles and then dive into them, scattering the leaves in an explosion of color before raking them up and starting all over. Their laughter had made her feel so completely alone.

Her memory clicked over to a crisp fall day in Aspen. Nat hadn’t really understood why she’d begged him to help her gather leaves into piles and jump with her right into the middle of them. But he’d helped her do it, anyway. The lonely child within her had loved every minute, and she’d loved Nat for being such a good sport about it.

“My wife’s after me to take her and the kids up there next weekend,” the cabdriver said, breaking into her reverie, “but I told her I do enough driving during the week. Besides that, it’s bumper to bumper on those little back roads. The word’s out about those leaves.”

“You should take her, anyway,” Jessica said, suddenly feeling sorry for the woman who had no passion in her life. “Get a sitter for the boys. There are some nice bed-and-breakfast places up there. It’s a good spot for couples.”

“You mean couples with bucks. Those cozy little inns aren’t cheap. My wife would probably rather have a new couch.”

“Ask her. I’ll bet she’d rather have the weekend.”

“I’ll bet she’d rather have the couch. You’re gonna have that for a good ten years or more. The weekend’s over and done, and you’ve got nothin’.”

“You have memories!” Jessica protested, battling now for this unknown woman’s right to be romanced, at least once in her life. “They’re worth more than anything.”

“I don’t know. You can’t sit on memories. Listen, we’re headed out of the city entirely. You sure you want to keep going? This is turning into an expensive ride.”

“That’s okay. Keep going.” As they left Manhattan behind, she could hardly believe the direction they were taking. They’d left the Hudson Parkway to follow the familiar route that wound along beside the river. If they kept going like this, they’d drive right past her parents’ estate.

“High-priced real estate up here,” the driver said. “But what I always think about, especially this time of year, is that story about the Headless Horseman. Sleepy Hollow, and all that. That story scared the daylights out of me when I was a kid.”

“Me, too.” She hadn’t thought about it before, but now she realized that when she allowed herself to think about the person stalking her, she felt sort of like Ichabod Crane trying to escape the Headless Horseman.

“My boys love that story, but kids today don’t scare so easy, I guess.”

“I guess.” Jessica wondered if Elizabeth would grow up braver than she was. Her self-image of strong independence grew shakier the closer they came to Franklin Hall.

Less than a mile from her parents’ gate she told the driver to slow down. At last she’d allowed her instincts to take over, and they had told her exactly where Nat was going. By the time the left-turn signal on the cab ahead of them flashed in the darkness, she was prepared for it. For reasons she couldn’t begin to imagine, Nat was going to Franklin Hall.

“Pull over under that tree,” she told the cabbie. “I’ll get out here.”

“What are you gonna do?” He pulled off the road as she’d asked, but gone was the camaraderie they’d established. He sounded nervous and suspicious again. “I can’t let you get out here, in the dark. And you sure as hell can’t follow him into that place. They got one of those automatic gates, and there are probably Dobermans running around or something. I should never have agreed to this. You’re some psycho or something, aren’t you?”

Jessica’s teeth chattered from the adrenaline rush of being so close to Franklin Hall again, but she tried to stay calm. “I can follow him into that place,” she said. “I used to live there. I know the gate code.”

“No way!”

“Look, I’ll prove it to you. First let me pay you what I owe.” She glanced at the meter and handed him some bills, along with a generous tip.

He looked a little happier upon seeing the money. “Just let me take you back to Manhattan, okay? I won’t even charge you. But I can’t leave a woman on a lonely country road like this. If I was to read about you in the papers, I’d never forgive myself.”

Jessica watched the taillights of the other cab disappear down the winding lane leading to the main house, which was obscured by trees. “Okay, you can pull over to the gate now. I’ll show you I can open it.”

“I’ll pull over there.” He guided the car across the road and stopped, his headlights shining on the ten-foot-tall gates with the scrolled letters FH worked into the intricate design. “But you’re not opening that gate. I know the kind of people who would live here, and you’re not that kind.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” She opened the car door. “You can stay here until I open the gate, and then go on back. That way you’ll know I’m inside the protection of the fence.”

“What if you’re attacked by dogs?”

“There aren’t any dogs. At least not the last I heard.” She opened the door and got out, hefting her backpack onto her shoulder. “Thanks for bringing me out here,” she said. “And do ask your wife about taking that weekend trip to a bed-and-breakfast.” She closed the door.

He rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “You just show me you can open that gate. When you can’t, I’ll take you back to town, no questions asked. You can stay at the Y.”

She turned to smile at him. “Thanks. You’re a nice man. But I won’t need to do that.” She still wasn’t sure what she would do once she was inside the gate, but that was her first step. The code came back to her the minute she stepped up to the keypad, and she punched it in without hesitation. The gates swung slowly open.

“I’ll be damned,” the cabbie said. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She gave him another smile. “Goodbye.”

“This’ll be one to tell the guys.”

A chill passed over her. “Please don’t. Don’t tell anybody about this.” She had no idea how close her stalker might be.

“Look, if the police question me, because somethin’ bad happens, then—”

“They won’t. I’m just asking you not to gossip to the other cabdrivers. Can you promise that?”

“Yeah, I can promise that. Better get in there. The gates are closing again.”

“Right. Bye.”

“Take care of yourself.”

She turned and ran through the gates before they clanked together with a sound that brought back that familiar feeling of claustrophobia. Once again she was a prisoner of Franklin Hall.

CHAPTER TWO

NAT HAD PREPARED himself for wealth, yet he was still blown away as the cab pulled up in front of the floodlit colonial mansion. In bandbox condition, the exterior was the color of ripe wheat, and the ivory trim looked as if it had been freshly painted that morning.

Jess had once lived here. The knowledge sent adrenaline rushing through his system, sweeping aside the fatigue of a transatlantic flight. Surely her parents would be able to tell him where he could find her.

The circular driveway had taken them up to an elegant entry, but the big draw of the house was obviously the view from the back, which sloped steeply down to the Hudson. On the way in, he’d caught glimpses of the majestic river through the trees, and the driver pointed with excitement when a barge, lit up like a Christmas tree, glided past, its engines thrumming in the night air.

Nat’s real estate training kicked in. He quickly calculated what the house alone must be worth, not even considering the grounds. Even in the dark they appeared extensive and manicured. The newspaper business had been good to Russell P. Franklin.

“Nice place.” The cabdriver switched off the engine.

“Not bad,” Nat agreed. But impressive as the house was, he wouldn’t want to live in it, and he couldn’t picture free-spirited Jess here, forced to spend her childhood behind locked gates. He was beginning to understand how lonely she’d been as the only child at Franklin Hall.

Opening the car door, he was greeted by the friendly scent of a fireplace in use. That heartened him, although he doubted the setting was as cozy as the living room at the Rocking D in Colorado. But he didn’t need cozy right now. He needed information. He hoped to God her parents had some.

He turned toward the driver. “Listen, I don’t know how long I’ll be, so I’m sure you could wait in the house, where it’s warmer.”

“Nah. Thanks, anyway, but I’d rather stretch my legs and have a smoke, if it’s all the same to you. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to go.”

“Okay.” Nat was too impatient to argue the point. “Knock on the door if you change your mind.” Leaving his backpack in the cab, he exited the car and mounted the steps to the front door, which looked as proper as a starched shirtfront. He lifted the brass knocker and rapped twice.

Almost immediately a uniformed butler opened the door.

Nat introduced himself. He was ushered quietly inside and relieved of his leather jacket. The butler had a strong British accent, and Nat remembered Jessica mentioning him. Barclay. Her father had hired him away from the Savoy.

The foyer lived up to the promise of the outside. A crystal chandelier sprinkled light over antiques that had been waxed and buffed until they shone. A table against one wall held a small bronze that Nat thought might be famous. He wasn’t up on art, but it looked familiar.

On a larger table in the center of the large entry, a bouquet of fall flowers filled a blue-and-white urn taller than a two-year-old child. Nat would bet the flowers were replaced every day. Their scent mingled with the tang of paste wax, and something else—maybe the smell of money, Nat thought. The contrast with the poverty he’d recently left made the elegant setting seem almost obscene.

“Mr. and Mrs. Franklin are in the library,” the butler said. “If you’ll follow me.”

As Nat walked down the hallway, an Oriental carpet that looked old and priceless cushioned his steps. He glanced at the gleaming railing on the stairway spiraling up to the second floor, and a vivid image of Jess sailing down the banister tugged at his heart. She’d only gotten away with it once, she’d said, but she’d never forgotten the joy of risking the forbidden.

He’d been having trouble finding evidence of her in this formal setting, but the banister looked as if it had been made for sliding down. Still, she’d probably never swung on a tire in the backyard or played hopscotch on the front walk. He was glad he’d seen this place, if only to understand Jess better.

His last picture of her tortured him—her long red curls tousled from lovemaking, her brown eyes filled with angry tears. Don’t you love me enough? she’d cried.

He’d left without answering the question, which effectively gave her an answer. He’d heard some object hit the door and shatter after he’d closed it behind him.

For Jess, love meant marriage and children. He hadn’t been willing to give her either one, because he’d thought he’d be lousy at it. He still thought so, but she’d haunted him the entire time he’d been gone. Another worker in the refugee camps, a sweet and willing woman, had offered herself. He’d gladly accepted, but to his chagrin he discovered that he couldn’t make love to anyone but Jess.

Finally he’d faced the truth. Sometime during the year he’d been seeing Jess, while he’d thought he was guarding his heart, she’d crept past the gates and set herself up as a permanent resident. He could either live the rest of his life alone, or he could try to overcome his fears and give Jess what she wanted.

Bad risk though he was, she’d been eager to take a chance on him once. He wondered if she still would. In the refugee camps he’d dealt with people who’d been ripped away from loved ones by force and had to scratch for every bit of human connection. After witnessing that, tearing himself from Jess seemed like ego run amok. He’d been offered so much, and he’d foolishly rejected it.

The thought of having kids still scared him to death, but maybe, in time, he could get used to that, too. If he expected to create an adoption program for war orphans, he’d be a real hypocrite if he didn’t at least consider that option for himself.

But first he had to find Jess. And he had no clue where she was. For seventeen months he’d pictured her in her little Aspen apartment. When he hadn’t been able to locate her there, he’d gone slightly crazy.

The butler paused in the doorway of the library to announce him, and Nat was so lost in thought, he nearly ran into the guy.

“Mr. Nat Grady to see you, sir,” the butler said.

“Show him in, Barclay,” boomed a voice from the interior of the room.

The butler stepped aside and Nat tried to control his eagerness as he walked forward. These people could lead him to Jess.

Russell P. Franklin, a robust, silver-haired man, rose from a leather wingback in front of the fireplace and came toward him, hand outstretched. Mrs. Russell P. remained seated in her wingback. She strongly resembled Jess, but Nat assumed the red hair was a beauty-salon copy of the color she’d been born with. Still, he couldn’t help thinking that this might be how Jess would look in twenty-five or thirty years. He wanted to be around to see that.

Adele Franklin smiled a greeting, but at the same time she surveyed him carefully. Under her scrutiny Nat remembered how grungy he was in comparison to his hosts. No doubt their sweaters and slacks were everyday casual wear, and they probably cost three times what Nat would spend on his hotel room tonight. Good thing neither Adele nor Russell knew yet that he had designs on their only daughter, or he’d probably be thrown out on his ear.

“Glad to have you stop by, Grady,” Russell said. His handshake was warm and firm. “Come over by the fire. What will you have? A drink, something to eat?”

“Scotch would be great.” Nat didn’t plan to drink much of it, but he’d been a real estate broker long enough to know the value of accepting someone’s hospitality if you wanted to make the sale. This might turn out to be the most important sales call of his life. He would have preferred a beer, but this didn’t look like a beer-drinking household.

“Good.” Russell looked pleased as he signaled to Barclay. “And have the cook rustle up a few sandwiches,” he added. “This man’s been existing on airplane food.”

Airplane food was gourmet fare compared to what the refugees had to eat, Nat thought. But this wasn’t the time to tell them that. “I hope you’ll excuse the way I look.” He stroked his beard. “I came straight from the airport.”

“No excuse necessary,” Russell said. “A man involves himself in a cause such as you have, he doesn’t have time to worry about appearance.”

“It does rearrange your priorities.” Nat sat on a love seat positioned between the two wingbacks and directly in front of the marble fireplace. The stout logs crackled smartly, as if aware of the honor of adding heat and ambience to Franklin Hall.

Windows on either side of the fireplace looked out on the inky flow of the river and the dark shore beyond, where only an occasional light showed signs of civilization. Books, mostly leather-bound, lined the other three walls of the room. There was even a rolling ladder to reach the top shelves.

Adele and Russell each had a book resting on a table beside them, a bookmark inserted in the pages. Then he realized there was no television in the room. Apparently the Franklins still believed in reading as a way to pass an evening.

Nat’s career in real estate had centered primarily on land, but he’d handled a few homes, and some had been real showplaces. None of them equaled this house. The cost of running Franklin Hall for a day would probably feed a refugee family for months.

Adele leaned forward. “You are quite a humanitarian, Mr. Grady. The rest of us may have sent a little money over to help those poor people, but you invested something far more precious—yourself. I commend you.”

Her voice startled him. Jess’s voice. He wanted to close his eyes and savor it. “I don’t really think of it that way, Mrs. Franklin,” he said. “I just had to go.” And not only to escape his demons concerning Jess. That was another thing he needed to settle with his ladylove. If she’d found out about his work in the refugee camps, she probably thought he’d only run away from her. But his decision to help the war-torn country was far more complicated than that.

“Call me Adele,” Jess’s mother said with a warm smile.

Her eyes were gray, not brown like Jess’s. But otherwise she reminded him so strongly of her daughter that he couldn’t stop looking at her. She wove her fingers together in her lap the way Jess did, and when she spoke she wrinkled her forehead slightly, as if putting real thought into what she was about to say. He remembered loving that about Jess.

“By all means,” Russell said. “Let’s not stand on formality.”

At that moment Barclay arrived with Nat’s scotch, a tray of sandwiches, and what looked like mineral water for Adele and Russell.

“Here’s to your dedicated efforts on the part of the refugees,” Russell said, raising his glass toward Nat. He took a swallow and sat back. “Now, why don’t you tell us what you have in mind?”

“I’ll be glad to.” He was passionate and absolutely sincere in his dedication to the war orphans foundation, but he’d used it without remorse as his ticket into Franklin Hall. Once he’d discussed the foundation, he planned to casually mention Jess. He forced his attention away from Adele and concentrated on Jess’s father.

Russell had brown eyes the color of Jess’s. But where her gaze had reminded him of a wild fawn’s, Russell’s could have belonged to George Washington when he led his troops across the Potomac. The man was a fighter and an empire builder. No one who looked carefully into those eyes would underestimate Russell P. Franklin.

Nat thought briefly of his own father. Nobody underestimated Hank Grady, either, least of all his son. Nat especially didn’t underestimate his father’s ability to be cruel. Yet Nat had been fed and clothed. Now he appreciated the luxury of that.

Shutting out the image of his father, Nat carefully outlined his plan for a foundation that would oversee the welfare and possible adoption of the orphaned children he had recently left. He had several potential backers in mind for the project. If Jess had still been living in her apartment, as he’d expected when he’d called from London, he wouldn’t have put Franklin on the list and risked causing Jess problems. But she hadn’t been in her apartment. The phone had been disconnected.

Both Russell and Adele seemed eager to hear the details of his plan, and he realized that getting their support for the foundation was a done deal. He was happy about that, but it wasn’t the most critical part of the interview.

“We’d be honored to have the Franklin Publishing Group be part of that effort,” Russell said when Nat finished. “I’ll talk to my accountants in the morning and see how much of your budget we can cover. Your ideas are well thought out.”

“Thank you.” Nat smiled. “I’ve had a lot of thinking time.”

“Some people could think for years and not come up with a practical scheme,” Russell said. “I appreciate dealing with someone who has a head for business. Philanthropy is a fine thing, but some of these confounded do-gooders quiver at the very idea of fiscal responsibility, and that makes me nervous. It’s too easy to pour money down a rat hole if you don’t have some checks and balances in place.”

“That’s why it was important for me to be over there so long,” Nat said. “I’ve lined up some excellent people who are ready to help run the program.”

Russell nodded and sat back in his chair. “Are you planning to approach other backers about this while you’re in town?”

“Yes, I am. But I wanted to see you first.”

The older man regarded him like a benevolent uncle. “I’m sure you’ll get the backing you need. But I should probably warn you that not everyone is as liberal as I am. You might want to shave.”

“I probably will.” Growing a beard had been practical when hot water and shaving gear had been scarce and cold wind had chapped his bare skin. He’d also blended in better with the refugees, and after a few months, the beard had seemed natural to him. Now that he was back in this country, seeing it in the mirror every day would serve to remind him of his mission. Still, Russell had a point. And then there was the matter of Jess. She had very tender skin….

“I rather like your beard,” Adele said.

“Yes, but you’re not a conservative businessman, Adele,” Russell said. “Some of these fellows get suspicious if they see a lot of facial hair. A mustache, now that’s no big deal, but a full beard conjures up the idea of radicals and hippies, y’know. It could affect whether Nat can get them to turn loose of their money.”

“I understand,” Nat said. “Besides, I might give my secretary a heart attack if I walked into the office looking like this.”

“You sell mostly unimproved land out there in Colorado, don’t you?” Russell said.

“That’s right.” Nat spied an opening. “Have you ever visited the state?”

“No, I never have. Flown over it many times, but never did stop. Pretty country, I understand.”

“It is that.” Nat thought he saw a flicker of emotion in those brown eyes. Adele gazed down at the fingers she’d laced tightly in her lap. Nat waited to see if either of them would mention that they had a daughter living in Colorado. Neither of them did. He’d have to plow this furrow on his own.

His pulse rate spiked. This was undoubtedly a touchy subject, but he didn’t intend to leave without getting into it. “Unless I’m mistaken, your daughter, Jessica, lived in Aspen for a while.”

The atmosphere in the room changed immediately. The camaraderie disappeared as Adele and Russell tensed and looked uneasily at each other. Finally Adele gave an almost imperceptible nod, as if to let her husband handle the comment.

“And how would you happen to have come by that information?” Russell asked. His question was quietly phrased, but the tone was one of command.

“I met her.”

They regarded him in stony silence.

Nat forged on. “But I’ve lost touch with her. I tried calling her from London and found out the number I had for her isn’t good anymore. I thought you might be able to tell me where she is,” he finished, matching his tone to Franklin’s as he met his gaze.

Russell had not changed position in his chair, but somehow he seemed bigger, more formidable. The publishing tycoon had replaced the affable philanthropist. “What is she to you?” he demanded.

“She saved my life.”

Adele gasped.

“And exactly how did she do that?” Russell asked. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

Nat had wondered if she’d ever mentioned the incident to her parents. “She might have told you about helping four clueless cowboys who’d decided to go skiing,” he ventured.

“No, she did not.” Russell continued to drill Nat with his gaze.

“We…she’s a very independent person.” Adele laced and unlaced her fingers. “She doesn’t fill us in on all her doings.”

“That’s an understatement,” Russell barked. “So, what happened out there in Colorado?”

“Well, some friends and I went skiing and stayed at the lodge where she worked at the desk. I guess she figured out we were beginners who might get in trouble, so she offered to go along and watch out for us. Unfortunately we didn’t give enough credit to her warnings. We blundered into an avalanche, and I was completely buried. She figured out where I was and told my friends how to dig me out. If she hadn’t been there, I might not have made it.”

Adele sagged back against her chair, her face pale. “An avalanche.” She glanced over at Russell. “She could have ended up in it, too, Russ.”

“Of course she could have!” Russell’s jaw worked. “But she thinks she knows best, so what the hell are we supposed to do?” His voice trembled with obvious pain and frustration.

Nat had only heard Jess’s version of the difficult relationship she had with her parents, and of course he’d sided with her in her bid for independence. But seeing the strain they were under because of her leaving, Nat couldn’t help sympathizing with them. She was their only child, and they were frantic with worry because they could no longer watch out for her. Nat could relate.

“Is she still up in Aspen?” he asked.

Russell lost his tenuous hold on his composure. “We don’t know where the hell she is! We—”

“Russell.” Adele’s quiet authority stopped his tirade immediately. “Jessica calls,” she continued, sitting up straighter and sending another warning glance at her husband. “She updates us every couple of weeks. About six months ago she decided to see a bit of the country, so she’s traveling around.”

A cold chill zipped up Nat’s spine. Something about this scenario didn’t sound like the Jess he knew. She was a nest-builder, not a vagabond. She’d loved her setup in Aspen, and she’d told him it was the perfect place to begin her study of herbs. “Traveling where?” he asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

“God knows. She’s behaving like a damn gypsy!” Russell shot a belligerent glance at his wife.

Her voice remained low and well-modulated. “Russell, we don’t know this young man that well. I think perhaps you should—”

“I think I should reconsider supporting this foundation, is what I think!” Russell turned back to Nat. “Tell me, Grady, how did you know that Jessica is our daughter? As I recall, she wanted to ‘fade into the woodwork’ as she put it, so she could—and I quote—‘live a normal life.’ She didn’t intend to tell anyone she was related to me. How did you find out?”

“She told me,” Nat said. Concern for Jess tightened his chest. “After the avalanche we became friends.” It was all he dared admit in this charged atmosphere. “I don’t think she ever told anyone else, but she told me. Now that I’m back in the country, I wanted to…say hello.” Yeah, right. Say hello. And then kiss her until neither of them could stand. And make love to her for about three days straight.

Adele leaned forward, her gray eyes intent. “Did you have a close relationship with our daughter, Mr. Grady?”

He’d been demoted from that first-name basis pretty quick, Nat thought as he wondered how to answer her.

“What the hell kind of question is that, Adele?” Russell asked. “The man said they were friends. Don’t go making something more of it.”

Adele ignored her husband and continued to study Nat. “She never mentioned being involved with someone,” she said, “but I knew it had to happen, sooner or later. She’s a beautiful girl.”

Nat’s throat went dry. “Yes.”

“She didn’t trust many people,” Adele continued, her gaze steady. “If she trusted you enough to let you know who she is, then I suspect you’re more than a friend to her.”

He’d hoped to avoid getting this specific, but he wasn’t going to lie to her parents. “We’re more than friends,” he said.

“Oh, that’s terrific!” Russell said. “Are you telling me you left my daughter high and dry while you went running all over God’s creation helping strangers in that little piss-ant country over there?”

“I…” Nat cleared his throat and faced Russell. He’d come into this room thinking of himself as a world-weary champion of the underprivileged. But he was beginning to feel more like an irresponsible teenager. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid that’s exactly what I did. And I’d like to make it up to her.”

“You’ll have to catch her first.”

Nat damn well intended to do that. At least it didn’t sound as if she’d found herself another guy. “Do you happen to remember where she was the last time she called?”

Adele’s poise cracked a little. “She won’t tell us,” she said, a quiver in her voice.

The tightness in his chest grew. “What do you mean?”

Adele’s knuckles showed white under her delicate skin as she clenched her hands in her lap. “She only says she’s on a grand adventure and she’ll fill us in later.”

“What?” Nat set down his drink and stared at her, incredulous.

“She apparently uses a pay phone,” Adele said, “and she gets off the line before we can—”

“This is unbelievable!” In his agitation, Nat got to his feet. “I know she wants to live her own life, but refusing to tell you her whereabouts is ridiculous!”

“I wanted to hire somebody to track her down,” Russell said, sounding defeated. “Adele won’t let me. She says if we do that, we’re liable to lose her forever.”

“At least now she calls!” Adele stood, as well. “If you get heavy-handed, she’ll stop doing that!”

“Then I guess I’ll have to find her,” Nat said. And she’d better have a damn good explanation for her behavior when he did. Maybe her mother and father were overprotective, but it was obvious to him that they loved her. They deserved better treatment than this. Either something was terribly wrong, or his darling Jess had turned into a brat.

“Don’t tell her you came to see us,” Adele said. “Please. She might think we asked you to find her for us.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t involve you.”

Russell levered himself from his chair. “But if you want that foundation money, you’ll tell us where she is when you locate her,” he said.

Nat gazed at him. As fair as that sounded, he couldn’t agree to it. First he had to talk to Jess and find out what had caused her to take off like this. “I can’t make that promise. I will try to convince her to come out of hiding so you don’t have to worry so much about her, but under the circumstances, maybe I should withdraw my request for foundation money.”

“No, no, you shouldn’t.” Russell’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a grin. “But you can’t blame me for trying to use some leverage.”

Nat smiled at him. “No, I can’t.”

“My accountants will contact your Colorado office in a few days.”

“What if Jessica finds out that you’re helping with this foundation? Won’t she make the connection?”

Nat had had enough. He’d learned that life could be short and brutal, and he didn’t have time for games. “Look, the welfare of those orphans is too important to let Jess interfere with the fund-raising. Unless she’s a different person from the one I knew, she wouldn’t want to interfere, no matter what her personal situation is. And I intend to find out exactly what that is.”

“You sound so sure you will,” Adele said.

“That’s because I am sure I will.” He refused to consider any other possibility.

“You called her Jess,” Adele said. “Does she go by that now?”

Nat looked at her. “No. I just…I call her that.” He realized how familiar that sounded. Her parents didn’t shorten her name when they spoke of her.

“I see,” Adele said. Obviously she saw everything.

Russell cleared his throat. “I don’t know your exact relationship to my daughter, and I don’t think I want to know,” he said. “Maybe you left her high and dry and maybe you didn’t. But if you find her and can let us know, this number will get you straight through to me.” He handed Nat an embossed card.

“I’ll find her.”

Russell extended his hand, and there was an unspoken plea in his gaze. He was obviously too proud to voice it, but it was there, nevertheless. “Good luck to you, son.”

CHAPTER THREE

JESSICA DIDN’T BOTHER to follow the road around to the house. She moved through the trees, greeting each one as an old friend while she tried to decide what to do once she arrived at the mansion. She couldn’t imagine what Nat was doing there. She was afraid to hope he was looking for her.

Her first glimpse of the house brought a rush of homesickness. Glancing up to the second floor, she picked out the darkened windows of her bedroom. Her parents wouldn’t have changed it. She and her mother had flown to Paris to choose the golden toile de Jouy fabric that draped the windows and the antique canopy bed. The bed probably had sheets on it, just in case she returned.

Most of the time she’d felt trapped in this house, but she’d also felt incredibly safe. Safety sounded good right now.

But if she walked into the house and accepted the protection her parents would love to give her, she’d lose all the independent ground she’d gained. And the fight wasn’t only about her now. Elizabeth deserved to grow up like a normal child instead of being followed by bodyguards wherever she went.

Oh, but the tug of home was strong, even after all this time. They were burning oak in the fireplace. The familiar smell of the smoke made her throat ache. She could picture her mother and father, each in their favorite wingback chair, reading glasses perched on their noses as they settled down with a favorite book. The love seat had been designated as hers, positioning her right between them.

When she’d been small, before she’d begun feeling stifled, the love seat sandwiched between her parents’ chairs had been a good place to be. She hadn’t exactly been allowed to sprawl on that seat while she read, but they’d let her tuck her feet under her as long as she took off her shoes first.

In those early days, at precisely nine o’clock, Barclay would arrive with refreshments—lemonade in the summer and steaming cocoa in the winter. And gingersnaps. Jessica could almost feel the crunch between her teeth.

She wondered if Nat was sitting on the love seat at this very minute. What on earth was he saying to her parents? A horrible thought came to her. If she told Nat about Elizabeth and the stalker, he might insist that she come back here and inform her parents. If he wanted to tell them himself, she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

With Elizabeth’s freedom at stake, maybe she’d better not tell Nat too much until she was sure he wouldn’t go running to her parents with the information. She didn’t think he’d sell her out, but she couldn’t be sure. After all, he’d come here tonight.

But she needed a plan.

The cab Nat had arrived in sat empty in the driveway as the driver strolled around smoking a cigarette. He returned to the cab to stub it out in the ashtray, which was a good thing, she thought. Herb, the gardener, would have a fit if he found a cigarette butt lying on his velvet lawn. He had enough trouble contending with the autumn leaves, which he snatched up the minute they dropped from the trees.

Still, she missed Herb and his persnickety ways. She missed all of the staff, even stuffy Barclay. She hadn’t realized how much until she stood in the shadows looking at the house that had sheltered her for so many years. But then, she supposed zoo animals would miss their keepers if they were suddenly turned loose. You had to give up something to get something, as her father was so fond of saying.

The cabdriver walked away from the car again and headed for the slope leading down to the river. About that time, the lights of a barge appeared from upriver, and the rumble of the boat’s engines drifted toward her on the night air. The driver stood with his back to her, his hands in his pockets as he gazed at the approaching boat.

Jessica’s pulse leaped as she recognized her opportunity. Nat had ridden in the front seat on the way out here. No doubt he’d do the same on the way back. While the cabbie watched the barge sail past, she could hide on the floor of the back seat. The boat’s engines would muffle the sound of her opening and closing the car door.

Unless Nat happened to come out at the exact moment when she was sneaking into the cab, she’d be able to hitch a ride without being noticed. When they arrived at Nat’s hotel, she’d reveal herself and hope that the cabdriver didn’t have a weak heart.

As for Nat, maybe he deserved the jolt she’d give him. For all she knew, he was telling her parents about her involvement with him, which she definitely didn’t appreciate having him do without checking with her first. To be fair, he would have had some trouble checking with her first, but still, in coming here he’d overstepped his bounds.

The rumble of the boat’s engine grew louder. Good thing she didn’t have a weak heart. It was skittering around like crazy while she waited for the noise to reach its loudest point. Okay. Now. She hurried toward the cab. The back door was locked.

She lost precious time opening the front door and reaching around to lift the button on the back door. Fortunately the barge’s engines drowned out the sounds she made. Or at least she hoped they did. The rhythmic rush of blood against her eardrums made it difficult to gauge how much noise she was making.

Luck seemed to be favoring her. The cabdriver didn’t turn around and the front door remained closed. She climbed into the back seat and shut the car door as quietly as possible. The driver stood watching the barge edge down the river. He probably didn’t think he needed to watch over his cab when he was inside the gated confines of Franklin Hall.

Putting her backpack on the floor, she lay on her side across the hump and put her head on the backpack. Not so good. And she’d thought she was roughing it when she’d had to give up first-class for coach.

She shifted position several times trying for some level of comfort. Finally she gave up. Comfort wasn’t in the cards for this ride. She’d have to hope, when the cab reached the city, that she wouldn’t be too crippled to walk.

Now if she could only stop gasping for breath, she might actually be able to pull this off. She forced herself to inhale slowly and deeply. She almost choked on the stale cigarette smell wafting up from the carpeting.

I’m doing this for Elizabeth, she told herself. She turned to face the back seat instead of the front, which gave her a little more breathing room. Gradually she became more accustomed to the obnoxious odor.

Nat’s backpack was within reach on the back seat. She stroked the frayed canvas, as if that would somehow start the process of connecting to him. He was not the same man who’d left her in Aspen, that was for sure. But then she wasn’t the same woman, either. Maybe they’d find no common ground other than the most obvious—their child. But Elizabeth’s welfare was worth any amount of sacrifice she had to make.

Despite her awkward position on the floor of the car, she began to relax. Then she heard the front door of the house open and close. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Nat was coming.

“All set?” the cabdriver called.

“Let’s go,” Nat replied.

His voice splashed over her, drenching her with longing. She wanted him. No matter how she’d tried to stamp out her feelings, the sound of his voice brought back a flood of memories—tender, lusty, explosive memories. And of all the times they’d made love, the most electrifying had been the night they’d conceived Elizabeth. He’d become such a part of her that night that she’d thought for sure he’d agree to break the code of silence.

Instead, he’d smashed their love to smithereens.

Her heart beat wildly as the front doors of the cab opened and the dome light flicked on. If either of them decided to look in the back seat during that brief time, they’d see her.

They didn’t.

The engine started, and she discovered one other unpleasant fact. She could smell car exhaust down here. Wonderful. Now she could worry about asphyxiating herself.

As the cab began to move down the driveway, Jessica was sure she could feel every rock and pebble in the road, especially when the tires threw them up under the car. But she didn’t dare move, at least not until they were well on their way back to the city.

“Did you get your business settled?” the cabdriver asked.

“Not exactly,” Nat said. “But it was a start.”

Please let this be a nosy cabdriver, Jessica prayed. She just might find out something that would partially make up for being crammed in here like a doomed mobster.

Unfortunately for her, the cabbie wasn’t all that interested in Nat’s business at Franklin Hall and started talking about the World Series instead. Jessica clenched her teeth as Nat happily traded opinions on the relative merits of each team in the playoffs. Guys and their sports.

Yet even though the conversation bored her to tears, she loved listening to Nat’s voice, and his low chuckle was enough to trip the switch on her libido. She didn’t focus on his words, but absorbed only his tone.

Maybe because she was lying in the dark, she began to think of how it had been lying with Nat in the dark. Gradually her mind replaced his talk about baseball with other words, polished gems from her treasure-house of memories. I could spend forever looking at you, Jess. And kissing you. Your skin tastes like milk and honey. Come here, woman. Come let me make love to you. For the rest of the night. Who cares about sleep when we can do this?

She hadn’t forgotten a minute of the time they’d been together. She wondered if he’d forgotten it all. But if he didn’t want anything more to do with her, why had he traveled to Franklin Hall the minute he set foot on U.S. soil?

Cautiously she wiggled over so she could see out the window. It wasn’t a great view, and the hump on the floor forced her to arch her back to an uncomfortable degree, but she’d be able to tell when they reached the city. She was more than ready to get there. The exhaust fumes were making her woozy.

“There’s the Franklin Tower,” the cabbie said. “They say Franklin’s office takes up the entire top floor. A huge office, they say, with a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of Manhattan.”

She knew that office. Jessica brought her attention back to the conversation in the front seat. Maybe the driver would finally try to get some gossip out of Nat.

“I’ve heard about his office,” Nat said.

He’d heard it from her. Nat had been the only person who knew about her background, and when he’d abandoned her, she’d lost more than a lover. She’d lost the one person she could talk to without constantly guarding her speech.

When she’d left New York, she’d severed all ties with friends because she couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t somehow give her away and leave her open to the kidnappers her father spoke about endlessly, the ones waiting to snatch a rich man’s child. She’d heard his warnings for so long that she believed him. She’d just wanted to find a different way to avoid that fate.

She’d made new friends in Aspen, but none of them knew she had a famous father. Only Nat. Keeping the secret had been more of a burden than she’d planned on, and confiding in Nat had been a welcome relief.

“That Franklin, I guess he’s a real wheeler-dealer,” said the cabbie, obviously fishing for information. “I’ve also heard he’s tough to get along with.”

No joke, Jessica thought. Try having a different opinion from his and see what happens to you. The lights of the city were all around her now, with horns blaring and even more fumes coming up through the floor of the cab. Her head started to pound, and she closed her eyes to see if that might help.

“Someone did tell me that Franklin was hard to get along with,” Nat said. “But he seemed like a reasonable guy to me.”

Jessica’s eyes snapped open. Nat thought her father was reasonable? What sort of a turncoat was he, anyway? Her headache grew worse.

“So you two got along pretty well, then?” the driver asked.

“I think so,” Nat replied. “Anybody with that much power is bound to rub people the wrong way once in a while, and he makes for an easy target, but he struck me as a decent man who tries to do the right thing.”

Jessica couldn’t decide which was worse, the fumes or Nat’s praise of her father. Both of them were making her sick.

“And I also think the person who told me he was hard to get along with probably has some authority issues to work out,” Nat added.

Authority issues? What the hell did he know about it? Jessica’s automatic yelp of protest was halfway out before she remembered that nobody was supposed to know she was hiding in the back seat. She clapped her hand to her mouth, but it was too late.

“Jesus!” the driver cried. “Somebody’s in the—”

“You watch the road! I’ll handle it!” Nat climbed into the back seat and grabbed Jessica by the front of her jacket.

She was too stunned to speak.

Gasping for breath, he hauled her up to a sitting position, which knocked her glasses askew. She pushed them back into place and tried to keep from throwing up. The exhaust fumes had really made her nauseated.

“My God, it’s a woman,” Nat said in amazement.

“What’s a woman doing in my cab?” the driver babbled hysterically. “Is she armed?”

“I don’t know,” Nat said, breathing hard. “Are you armed?”

She shook her head, still trying to keep from tossing her cookies.

“She’s not armed,” Nat said to the driver. As his breathing slowed, he peered intently at her. Multicolored lights streamed in through the cab windows and slid across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. But he seemed to be studying her, as if trying to solve a riddle.

“I’m heading for the nearest cop shop,” the cabbie said.

“Don’t do that yet,” Nat told the driver quietly. “Let me see if I can find out what’s going on here.” He looked down at Jessica. “Where did you come from?”

She didn’t trust herself to open her mouth without losing her lunch, so instead she took off her glasses and gazed up at him.

He stared at her, stared at her hard. Then, while he kept his gaze locked on hers, he reached up with his free hand and hit the switch on the dome light.

She blinked in the glare of the overhead, but when she could once again meet his gaze, she saw the dawning recognition there.

“Jess?” he whispered.

She nodded. Then she scrambled for the window, rolled it down and threw up.

ENDLESS HUMILIATING moments later, Jessica was finally ensconced in the bathroom of Nat’s hotel room with the door locked. Swearing under her breath, she stripped down, pulled off her wig and stepped under the shower. In all the scenarios she’d played in her head about this meeting, none of them had included barfing.

Fortunately she’d only baptized the side of the cab and the sleeve of her coat. In the hullabaloo following her hurling incident, she’d been too embarrassed to be able to gauge whether or not Nat was happy to see her. It would have been difficult to factor out the vomit in that calculation, anyway. Not many men would be happy to see a woman whose first move was to spew all over the place.

Once in the shower, she gave in to the urge to wash her hair with the luxurious hotel shampoo. Much as it pained her to admit it, she missed the five-star treatment. In the years since she’d left Franklin Hall, she’d tried not to dip into her trust fund at all, but once she quit her job and went on the lam, so to speak, she’d had to draw some money out. She begrudged every penny she spent, because it was her father’s money.

Consequently, she could hardly describe her accommodations in the past few months as first-class. Maybe fifth-or sixth-class.

Knowing Nat and his lack of pretense, she’d expected him to opt for a low-to-medium-priced hotel while he was in New York, but for reasons she couldn’t fathom, he’d directed the cabdriver to the Waldorf. From the reaction of the clerk at check-in, she’d figured out Nat hadn’t made an advance reservation, so it was a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Maybe he’d done it for her, although she’d died a million deaths standing there in the glittering lobby in her bag-lady clothes decorated with barf. Now, however, as she rinsed her hair under the most excellent showerhead she’d enjoyed in months, she blessed him for his choice.

Ah, the thick towels. Oh, the rich scent of the body lotion. She wanted to be a good girl and not care about such superficial things, but she’d been raised with them, and the sense of deprivation had been more acute than she’d planned on.

She smoothed at least half the tiny bottle of lotion over herself, both because it felt so good and because, once she was finished, she had to face putting on something wrinkled and musty from her backpack. She was sick to death of wrinkled and musty.

From years of experience with luxurious accommodations, she knew that in the room’s closet a thick terry robe would be hanging ready for just this moment. Technically it was there for the use of the person who’d rented the room. That person would be Nat.

She pictured herself coming out to talk to him in the wrinkled and baggy jumper and turtleneck she had stuffed in her backpack. Then she pictured herself having the same conversation wearing that thick white robe. The discussion would be difficult enough without looking bad while she had it.

Wrapping a towel around her, she went to the door and opened it a crack. “Nat?”

“Yes?” Instantly footsteps hurried in her direction. “Are you feeling okay? Should I call a doctor?”

“I’m feeling better than I have in ages,” she said. “But I have a big favor to ask. Would you mind if I put on the hotel bathrobe that’s hanging in the closet? My clothes are…well, they don’t look very…the thing is, I—”

“Here.” A wad of white terry poked through the crack in the door. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks.” She opened the door enough to pull the robe through. Oh, yes. Egyptian cotton. It felt like heaven as she pulled it on and belted it around her waist. In the steamy mirror she fluffed her still-damp hair. For the first time in months, she looked and felt like herself.

And now she had to face Nat.

She fluffed her hair again. Then she ran a quick comb through it. She wasn’t happy with the last cut, which she’d got done at a beauty school to save money. It took an exceptional stylist to deal with her thick, naturally curly hair. This one had left it too bulky around her shoulders. She tried to tame it with her fingers, but it was no use.

Maybe a little lipstick.

While she’d been on the run, she’d pared down her cosmetics needs to lipstick, mascara and blush. She had the tube of lipstick halfway to her mouth when she stopped to stare at herself in the mirror. What was she doing? Trying to come on to him?

She rolled the lipstick back down, capped it and tucked it into her backpack. She’d take him the herbal supplements she’d brought, though. Fishing them out, she started toward the door. On the way she happened to look down at her feet.

Now, there was a sorry sight. She paused to consider her unpainted toes, clipped with a toenail clipper. Not buffed, not filed, not pampered. Her last pedicure had been before she’d had Elizabeth. Nat had always loved her feet.

Stop it, she lectured herself. He probably didn’t love any part of her anymore. What she looked like didn’t matter. Elizabeth was the only person who mattered in this whole mess.

“Jess?” Nat rapped on the door. “Are you sure you’re okay in there?”

“I’m okay.”

“Then what’s taking so long?”

“I was, um, thinking.”

“Well, could you do that out here? We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do. We most certainly do.” Drawing in a bracing lungful of air, she opened the bathroom door. She found herself staring at his shirtfront. He stood right outside the door, crowding her, invading her space. She would have to walk around him to move any farther into the room.

His masculine scent surrounded her, making her quicken in all sorts of strategic places. She gathered her courage and looked up into his eyes. Her heart stuttered at the fire burning there. “Nat?”

“What’s that?” He glanced down at the two bottles of supplements.

“Herbal stuff for you.”

His gaze lifted. “Why?”

“Because…” Because I love you and worry about you. She didn’t dare say it.

He made an impatient noise deep in his throat. “Jess, I have to ask you something.”

“Okay.” Her heart hammered.

His words were as intense as his gaze. “Is there anyone else?”

Joy rushed through her. Hallelujah. He still wanted her. “No. No one else.”

With a gusty sigh he took the vitamin bottles and tossed them on the floor. Then he pulled her into his arms. “Excuse the beard,” he murmured. Then his lips crushed hers.

Overjoyed as she was to know that he still cared, she was distracted at first by the beard. Kissing him was like smooching a stuffed animal. But then…then he coaxed her mouth open. She forgot all about the beard as she rediscovered why kissing Nat had been one of her all-time thrills. He could pack more sensuality into a kiss than other men could manage in an hour of whole-body sex.

A few moments of kissing Nat beat a day at the spa for making her tingle all over. One kiss from him and she was so awake, from the tips of her curling toes to the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck. His fingers stroked there, and she turned to melted butter in his arms.

Boiling butter might be more like it. She wriggled against him, trying to get closer.

He shifted the angle of his mouth and tugged at the bathrobe’s sash while he muttered something that sounded like have to.

Oh, so did she. Had to. She started on the buttons of his shirt. But wait. She hadn’t planned on this.

“Need you so,” he breathed, backing her toward the bed as he continued to kiss her senseless.

“Wait,” she said, gasping.

“Can’t.” He pushed open the terry cloth and closed his hand over her breast with a groan.

“Nat—” She tried to tell him she wasn’t on the Pill. He kept coming, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, making her crazy with wanting him. The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She fell against the quilted spread and he came right with her.

Panting, she tried again. “I’m not—”

His mouth silenced her once more.

Oh, God. How many times had she fantasized about his weight pressing her into the mattress, his hand between her thighs, his mouth at her breast? Both of them going wild. If this was a dream, she’d kill whoever or whatever woke her up.

Even his beard was wonderful, brushing her skin like the pelt of some exotic animal. She’d never realized kissing a bearded man could be so erotic. She pulled him closer, arched into his caress, moaned his name.

“God, I need you,” he groaned.

“I need you, too.” But one unplanned baby was enough. She forced herself to choke out the words. “But I’m not on the Pill anymore. We can’t—”

“Yes, we can.” He nuzzled his way back to her mouth.

At first she thought he meant that he wouldn’t care if she got pregnant. “We can?”

“Yes.” He covered her face with a million kisses. “We can. I want to be inside you, Jess.”

Could he really be telling her that he’d changed his mind about children? Her heart expanded with the possibility. “Why can we?” she asked breathlessly.

“I had room service bring up condoms. Don’t worry.” He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose. “I won’t get you pregnant.”

She went still. “Would that be so terrible?”

He paused and lifted his head to gaze into her eyes. Although it seemed to take some effort, he gained control of his runaway desire. Then he took a deep breath. “I don’t want to start out with a fight, Jess.”

A pulse hammered in her throat. “Neither do I. But I need to know. Would it be so terrible if you got me pregnant?”

“You mean right now, at this very moment?” Without giving her a chance to answer, he barreled on. “Yeah, it would. We have a lot of talking to do, and that’s one of the things we need to talk about, but I wouldn’t want to make a move like that without taking all kinds of things into consideration. I am willing to give it some thought, much more so than when I left. Maybe…I’m not saying positively, but maybe…someday. But not right now.”

The hope swelling in her heart died. Damn, but he was a pain in the butt. She’d meant to find a gentle way to tell him, but suddenly she didn’t want to be gentle with this incredibly sexy but frustratingly stubborn man. She wanted to hit him between the eyes.

“It’s too late to talk about it, Nat,” she said. “Eight months ago I gave birth to our daughter.”

CHAPTER FOUR

NAT STARED down at her as a sick feeling worked its way through his gut. “No,” he whispered.

“Yes. I’m sorry to spring it on you like this. I hadn’t planned on that, but I’ve carried this secret for so long that I—”

“No!” He scrambled from the bed, as if eliminating all contact with her would change the message she was trying to deliver. He jabbed an accusing finger at her. “You were on the Pill!”

Jess sat up, drew her robe around her with great dignity and retied the sash. Sometimes, at moments like this when she adopted an almost royal air, he realized that some of her upbringing had stuck with her, whether she wanted it to or not.

“Yes, I was, but—”

“You stopped?” The fear boiling in his stomach erupted into accusations. “You stopped without telling me, didn’t you? You thought if you couldn’t hook me one way, you’d try something else!”

“How dare you!” She leaped from the bed, rigid with anger.

“What else am I supposed to think?” Oh, God, he remembered how she’d pleaded with him to commit. Her pleas could have come from the desperate knowledge that she might be carrying his baby.

Clenching her fists, she faced him, her eyes dark with betrayal. “You could try thinking that it was an accident.” Her voice quivered. “I had a cold that weekend, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” She’d suggested their not seeing each other because she hadn’t wanted to infect him. But he’d talked her into it by saying he had a great immune system. He’d told her they’d spend the weekend in bed. Which they had. Her cold had made their final argument that much more miserable, because she’d been crying and coughing and sneezing through it all. He’d felt like the worst kind of heel, but she’d been the one pressing the point, not him. And he’d run.

Her tone grew bitter. “I was so worried about you catching whatever I had that I decided to get a prescription for antibiotics, hoping then I’d be less contagious.”

“I remember that, too. What does that have to do with—”

“See? You don’t know, either! Antibiotics can make birth control pills useless!”

So it was true. The realization washed over him in an icy wave. A child. He had a child. His baby wasn’t a refugee, yet still the images of those sad-eyed orphans rose up to taunt him. Life had let them down, and sure as the world, he would let down any child that called him father.

When panic threatened to overwhelm him, he looked for someone to blame. “If that’s true about antibiotics, it should be common knowledge! The doctor should have told you!”

“How could he think to? I ran over to one of those all-night clinics, and they were busy as hell. The guy who prescribed the antibiotics didn’t know me or my situation, and let’s not forget that I was supposed to keep it so damn secret that I was involved in a sexual relationship.”

He looked away from the accusation in her eyes. Guilty. He was so guilty. Loving a woman like Jess had been a mistake from the beginning. After only a couple of days of knowing her, he’d realized she was a white-lace-and-promises kind of gal. Pursuing her had been pure selfishness on his part.

But he’d wanted her in a way that reason and fairness couldn’t touch. He still did. One glance in her direction and the urge to take her came roaring back, especially now, when he was vulnerable and afraid. He’d discovered making love to Jess was magic. Holding her, pushing deep inside her, his fears always went away.

He could still taste her kisses. Her mouth was red from them, her skin rosy from the brush of his beard. The scattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose had been something he’d missed more than he realized. He loved her more now than ever before, as she stood there defiantly challenging him, her wild mane of red curls a riot of color around her tight, angry expression.

Then it finally struck him that she’d announced that they had a child, but she was here alone. “Where is the baby now?”

The defiance whooshed out of her in no time, and her expression became heartbreakingly sad. “In Colorado,” she said quietly. “At the Rocking D.”

“With Sebastian?” Alarm zinged through him. “Sebastian doesn’t know a damn thing about babies! How long—”

“Maybe we’d better go over there and sit down.” She gestured to a polished cherry table and two side chairs positioned by the window. “We have several things to talk about.”

He couldn’t come up with a better plan. It was as good a spot as any for him to be while she flung one hand grenade of information after another. Walking over to the window, he opened the drapes. He’d closed them while she was in the shower as part of his preparation for seducing her. Now he needed a feeling of space.

Below them the city still bustled even though it was nearly midnight. Which meant it was early morning in London. If his body ever stopped pumping with adrenaline, he’d probably keel over from lack of sleep. As it was, he felt as if he’d never be able to sleep again.

“Are you going to sit down?” she asked.

He turned. She was seated primly in one of the Queen Anne chairs, her elbows resting on the arms, her fingers laced together and her feet crossed at the ankles. He thought again how well she fit into this environment. She looked like a younger version of her mother.

He also had the ignoble thought of going over to that chair and trapping her within its arms while he ravished her. There was something very provocative about that bulky terry robe covering her naked body, and the untidy mass of her just-washed hair made her look like a woman in need of ravishing. She had freckles across the top of her breasts, too, and he’d been too busy to take proper notice of them the first time he’d opened her robe. Those freckles called to him.

She’d given birth to his child. He couldn’t take it in. His mind kept trying to reject the whole concept.

“I guess you’re not going to sit down,” she said. “I can understand you being agitated. I really had hoped to break this to you more gradually. But before I say anything more, I need to know if we can keep this between us, or if you will feel some obligation to contact my parents.”

He thought of the worry etched into Adele’s forehead, and the desperate gleam in Russell’s eyes. “They’re worried sick about you. They said you’ve been traveling…” He paused to stare at her. “Have you been hauling that kid around all over the place?”

“Her name is Elizabeth, and no, I haven’t. Like I told you, she’s been at the Rocking D.”

Elizabeth. Her name made her more real, which was not a good thing. “Since when?”

“Since March.”

“Holy shit! Is she okay? Is Sebastian—”

“She’s fine. I keep checking by phone.” Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her hands in her lap. “I had to do it like this, Nat. But first I have to know. Are you going to call my parents and tell them everything?”

“Don’t you think they deserve to know? My God, it’s their grandchild, Jess!”

“I know.” She swallowed. “But they’d want to swoop back in and protect me, and this time they’d include Elizabeth in their net. She’d become a little prisoner, just like I did. Once they knew the whole story, they might even get a court order giving them the right to do that.”

Gradually he began to piece things together. Her disguise, her separation from the baby, her traveling around. He walked over to stand directly in front of her. “What’s the problem, Jess?”

“I need your word that you won’t call my parents.”

“You’re not getting it. That might be the thing to do.”

She looked frantic. “No, it’s not! I won’t have my daughter grow up that way.” Her eyes begged for his understanding. “Please, Nat. Promise you won’t bring them into this.”

He shook his head. “No promises. I understand what you’re afraid of. I’ve seen Franklin Hall and I’m sure you were very lonely there. But there are worse things than being lonely.” And he was the guy who could testify to that. “You’ll have to trust me. I wouldn’t contact them unless I thought it was absolutely necessary, but if they’re your best alternative, and you’re being too pigheaded to see that, then—”

“You never lived there.” She pushed out of the chair and brushed past him, headed for the bathroom. “Tell you what. My main objective was to tell you about Elizabeth, and I’ve done that. All I ask is that if anything should happen to me, you’ll see about our baby.” She went into the bathroom.

He was across the room with one hand bracing the door before she could close it. “Stop right there.” His heart hammered in his ears. “What the hell do you mean, if something should happen to you?”

She looked at him. “There are no guarantees in life, are there? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get dressed and out of your way.”

“The hell you will.” Seventeen months ago he wouldn’t have thrown his weight around. That was before he’d lived in the middle of a war zone, where life could be snuffed out in an instant. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the room. “You’re obviously in some kind of danger, and you are, by God, going to tell me about it.”

She resisted, trying to struggle out of his grip. Her color was high, and she was breathing hard. “This macho routine isn’t like you.”

“I’ve changed. Now tell me.”

“Why should I?”

Both fury and passion put the same bloom in her cheeks and the same hitch in her breathing, he noticed. He might not recognize the difference, except for the look in her eyes. “Well, for one thing—” he grabbed her other wrist “—you’re the mother of my child.” Saying it made him shudder, but the fact gave him some rights.

Her eyes spit fire. “I have always put Elizabeth first, and I always will. I’ll make sure she’s safe, no matter what happens to me.”

“She needs you.” He tightened his grip on her wrists. “And damn it, so do I.”

“No, you don’t!” Tears of frustration filled her eyes. “You just need me for sex!”

His throat ached with remorse. Of course she’d think that. He forced the words past the lump in his throat. “Oh, I need you for sex, all right. Like you wouldn’t believe. But that’s only the tip of the iceberg, sweetheart.”

Her response was low and choked with tears. “I don’t believe you. Now let me go.”

“No. Tell me what danger you’re in. I have a right to know.”

She gazed up at him and he could tell from the turmoil in her eyes how hard she was trying to be tough, how desperately she wanted to handle whatever she was dealing with by herself.

He couldn’t let her do it. “Tell me. For Elizabeth’s sake.” Saying the baby’s name, acknowledging her personhood, took another major effort on his part, but he figured it might turn the trick with Jess.

It did. Her shoulders slumped. “Someone’s trying to kidnap me,” she murmured.

“Oh, God.” He didn’t remember letting go of her wrists to wrap his arms around her, but all at once there she was in his arms, and he was holding on for dear life as he rocked her back and forth. He buried his face in her hair. “Oh, God, Jess.” He knew about kidnapping. In the political upheaval he’d just witnessed, people had been kidnapped all the time. They never came back.

“It’s just like my dad predicted!” she wailed, hugging him tightly. “In Aspen I thought someone might be following me. Then a car tried to force me off the road one night. Thank God Elizabeth wasn’t with me. I got away, but I saw the same car following me another time, and I knew for sure then. Somebody has found out who I am. They’ve decided to snatch the Franklin heir.”

With growing horror he listened as the story came tumbling out. She’d traded in her car for a different one, packed up the baby and taken her to the Rocking D for safekeeping. For the past six months she’d been on the run. But it had been a creative run.

Using different disguises and modes of transportation, she’d tried to elude the kidnapper. But just when she thought she had, a man would follow her along a crowded street, far enough away that she couldn’t positively identify him, but close enough for her to suspect he was the same man. By keeping her wits about her, she’d stayed out of his clutches.

When she was finished, Nat held her tight for a long moment. Then he sighed. “We’re calling the police.”

“No!” She backed away from him. “The minute you do that, my parents will be all over this situation, and then my life as we know it will be over.”

“Your life as you know it is totally screwed up!”

“No, it isn’t.” She tucked her wayward hair behind her ears, which made her look like a schoolgirl. A sexy schoolgirl.

He was determined not to be distracted. “The hell it isn’t. You have a kidnapper on your trail and you can’t even risk being close to your baby as a result.”

“I can risk it now that you’re home.”

“Now, wait a minute. Flattering as that sounds, I can’t have you thinking I’m an adequate bodyguard.”

“You just said you’d changed. And I can see it. You’re more aggressive than you were seventeen months ago.”

“I’m not a trained bodyguard, and your parents are exactly the people who could—”

“Oh, gee, look at the time.” She glanced at her bare wrist and started back toward the bathroom. “Gotta run.”

“Oh, hell.” He clamped a hand on her shoulder to keep her from disappearing behind the closed door. Holding her firmly by the shoulder, he heaved a gusty sigh. “Are you telling me that if I call your parents, you’ll take off and leave me to deal with them?” He didn’t relish the thought of facing Russell P. Franklin alone and announcing he’d gotten the Franklin heir with child.

She glanced over her shoulder. Jess was the sort of woman who could be provocative without even trying. “I guess that’s about the size of it, Nathaniel Andrew.”

“That’s blackmail, Jessica Louise.”

She smiled a vixen’s smile. “I know.”

He couldn’t decide which he’d rather do, strangle her or kiss that saucy mouth until she moaned. He did neither. “You’re blackmailing your parents, too, you know. Your dad wants to put a private detective on your trail so bad he can taste it, but your mother won’t let him because she thinks you’ll go away for good if he does.”

“She’s right.”

Turning her to face him, he grasped her other shoulder and barely stopped himself from giving her a shake. “Jess, what if this kidnapper gets ahold of you? What if he decides, after getting the ransom money, to just kill you? Have you thought of that?”

She nodded. “That’s why I needed to talk to you and tell you about Elizabeth,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “So everything would be okay for the baby.”

The thought of something happening to Jess had the power to paralyze his mind, so he didn’t think about it for long. “Setting aside the issue of how the rest of us would fare in that event, let me emphasize that if you got yourself killed, it would not be okay for the baby.” Panic nibbled at him some more. “I’m a lousy candidate for a parent, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it, but if you call my parents, we’ll never get a chance to find out. They’ll have Elizabeth behind the gates of Franklin Hall before you can say boo.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Then he wouldn’t have to worry about the baby. He had a business in Colorado, after all. He could pay support, although the Franklins would probably scoff at the pittance the courts would ask of him.

“And I’d have to go with her,” Jess said softly.

Ah, there was the rub. The woman he loved would be safe but unhappy. And he would be…lost. Lost without hope of redemption.

“You see, it has to be this way if you and I are to have any chance. If Elizabeth is to have any chance.”

As he gazed into her eyes and saw the glimmer of hope there, his feelings of inadequacy threatened to swamp him. “I would botch the job of being Elizabeth’s father, Jess. We’ve been through all that, and you know how I feel about having kids of my own. I’ll admit that on the flight over I began thinking that maybe someday I could consider adopting an orphan from one of the refugee camps. But see, that would be different. The kid wouldn’t have that many options, and even having me as a parent would be better than nothing.”

“Oh, Nat.” She moved in close and combed her fingers through his beard so she could cup his face in both hands.

He loved her touch, and decided at that very moment that he wanted to shave so nothing interfered with the feel of her soft hands on his face.

“I’ve never met your father,” she said, “but I know you’re nothing like him. You would never beat a child the way you were beaten, or belittle them until they felt worthless, the way your father did.”

“You don’t know that. It’s the pattern I saw for eighteen years. Some of that behavior has to be lurking in me, waiting for the time when I have a kid, and that automatic conditioning kicks in.”

Her gaze searched his. “Don’t you at least want to see her?” she asked gently.

His stomach churned at the thought, but yes, he’d admit to a flicker of curiosity. “Maybe, from a distance.”

Jess smiled. “How far a distance?”

“One of those videophones would be about right.”

She held his gaze. “I think she has your eyes.”

That rocked him. All along he’d pictured her with woeful brown eyes, like the children he’d left in the camps. “Blue?”

“They probably are by now. The color was still a little indistinct when I…when I left her at the ranch.” Her breath caught and her eyes began to glow with longing. “Oh, Nat, please. Let’s call the ranch and tell them we’re on our way. It’s been an eternity. Please. It’s still only ten there. They won’t be in bed. Let’s call them now.”

One thing had become obvious—he wouldn’t in good conscience be able to shift this new and unwanted responsibility to Jess’s parents. Neither could he expect Sebastian to keep on taking the burden, although Nat wasn’t wild about heading out there to face this massive change in his life. He’d ten times rather hold up in the Waldorf for a few days and calm his fears by making endless love to Jess.

But it looked as if he needed to take Jess to Colorado. “Okay. Yeah. We’ll do that.”

“Oh, thank you!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss right on his mouth.

She might have meant it as a friendly gesture instead of an invitation, but it didn’t matter how she’d meant it. His body flipped to automatic pilot as he grabbed her and pulled her in tight. He couldn’t have kept his tongue out of her mouth for all the gold in Fort Knox.

With a little whimper of delight, she molded herself against him the way only Jess could do. Her body dovetailed with his as no other woman’s body had ever done. It was as if they’d been carved from the same block of stone so that when they came together, the seam of separation disappeared.

But she wasn’t stone—she was warm and pliant. When he pushed his hand into the invisible gap between them, she magically made way for him. He tugged at the sash of her bathrobe and the thick material loosened instantly, gaping open over the smooth curve of her breast.

He was there in an instant, cupping the weight, almost out of his mind with the joy of caressing her silken breast again. He brushed the erect nipple with the pad of his thumb and she gasped against his mouth. She’d always been so sensitive to his slightest touch, which had made him feel like a god when he made love to her.

Tonight her reaction seemed even more sensitive, and subtly different. Or maybe it was all in his mind. Once upon a time, he’d thought he knew every intimate detail about her. But in his absence she’d given birth to a child—his child. The knowledge made her body mysterious and exotic. He needed to reconnect with her, if only to convince himself that she was still knowable, still within his reach.

He lifted his mouth a fraction from hers as he rubbed her nipple with his thumb. “Did you nurse her?” he murmured.

Her breath blew warm on his lips. “Yes.”

He traced her open mouth with his tongue. “Tell me how it was.”

“Sweet.” Her breath quickened.

He looked down at her upturned face, her auburn lashes lying against her freckled cheeks, her lips parted, her breathing uneven as he stroked her taut nipple. “So you liked it.” He was hard, so hard.

Her eyes fluttered open, and her glance scorched his. “I loved it.”

“I wish I’d been there.”

“So do I.”

Holding her gaze, he deliberately pushed aside the lapel of her robe. Lifting her breast in his hand, he leaned down, heart racing, and slowly drew her nipple into his mouth. She tasted like heaven. He closed his eyes in ecstasy.

She sighed his name and tunneled her fingers through his hair to hold him against her breast.

When he thought he might come apart from the pressure of wanting her, he lifted his head and gazed into her passion-dark eyes. “I’m taking you to bed.”

“What about…the phone…call,” she whispered weakly.

He scooped her into his arms and the robe fell away as he carried her to the bed and laid her on the quilted spread. His throat went dry at her beauty, and his vocal cords felt like the rusty hinge on an old screen door. His hand went to his belt buckle. “In the morning,” he said.

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