For the baby’s sake...

Secretive billionaire Daniel Lee is known for being ruthless. But he’s discovered his conscience when it comes to Christine Murray. Once, he’d smeared her name to win a campaign. Now that she’s back in the spotlight, with a precious baby to protect, Daniel’s determined to make amends. Even if rescuing Christine and her daughter means sweeping them away to a life he shares with no one...

He’ll do anything to earn Christine’s trust...and to have her in his bed. But now that the sexy single mom and her adorable daughter are on his turf, he can’t seem to let them go...

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“Maybe you don’t have to know why,” Daniel said.

“That’s a load of malarkey,” Christine replied.

“Malarkey? That’s not a word you hear every day.”

“I have this daughter, you see. She has a tendency to pick up on words and repeat them loudly when it’s most inconvenient.”

She was looking at him again with both eyes now. “Why, Daniel?”

“I didn’t want to be another person who let you down.”

“I don’t want you to be another person who lets me down,” she said softly.

For too much of his life, he had been concerned with his own interests. It was in his best interests to keep his siblings protected and the family business solvent. But what did he have to gain from Christine? What was in it for him to shield Marie?

Nothing. He had nothing to gain by doing any of this.

Funny how that hadn’t stopped him yet.

* * *

Billionaire’s Baby Promise is part of Mills & Boon Desire’s No. 1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men…wrapped around their babies’ little fingers.

Billionaire’s Baby Promise

Sarah M. Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SARAH M. ANDERSON may live east of the Mississippi River, but her heart lies out west. A Man of Privilege won an RT Book Reviews 2012 Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. The Nanny Plan was a 2016 RITA® Award winner for Contemporary Romance: Short.

Sarah spends her days talking with imaginary cowboys and billionaires. Find out more about Sarah’s heroes at www.sarahmanderson.com and sign up for the newrelease newsletter at www.eepurl.com/nv39b.

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To Tahra Seplowin, who once pulled my luggage through Times Square at a dead run so we could make the curtain call. That’s true friendship right there.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Extract

Copyright

One

As always, he answered the phone on the first ring. “This is Daniel.”

The number was not one he recognized. The voice, on the other hand, was. “Lee! I knew I’d track your sorry butt down somehow.”

“Brian,” Daniel said, trying to keep the cringe out of his voice.

Brian White had plucked Daniel straight out of a political rally on the campus of Northwestern and taught him everything he knew. They had worked together for almost fourteen years on various political campaigns. Brian was a man without morals, scruples or ethics. As a result, he had an amazing track record in getting questionable candidates elected to public office.

“How have you been?” Daniel asked, stalling for time.

If Brian was calling him now, that only meant one thing. The man had been hired to run yet another political campaign and he wanted his right-hand man by his side. Never mind that Daniel Lee had walked away from politics and made it clear that he was never going back.

“I’ve got a job for you,” Brian said, sounding sure of himself.

It was hard to surprise Daniel Lee. He made secrets his business. So he wasn’t all that surprised that Brian was reaching out to him. What did surprise him was his own physical response. Daniel—a man who was rumored by his political enemies to not even have a soul—felt an anxious coiling in his stomach that was only dimly recognizable as guilt. “I have a job, Brian.”

“Doing what? Running a marketing department for a beer company? Come on, Lee. We both know you’re wasting your talents.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. Brian didn’t know the first thing about business—or loyalty. Daniel wasn’t just running a marketing firm for a beer company—he was running a family business. His last name might not be Beaumont, but he was one all the same.

Every time he thought of his position here at the Beaumont Brewery—second-in-command to his half brother, Zeb Richards—he almost wished his grandfather, Lee Dae-Won, could have lived long enough to see Daniel take his rightful place in a family business—even if it wasn’t Dae-Won’s business. “I told you I was out.”

As he spoke, he started searching. Who was Brian working for now?

“Yeah, yeah—that’s what you said. But you and I both know you didn’t mean it. This one’s going to be fun—carte blanche.” There was a pause. “You find it yet?”

Damn. Of course Brian knew him well enough to know Daniel was already looking. “You could tell me,” he said as he found it.

Missouri Senator Resigns In Disgrace; Male Escort Tells All.

Missouri? The hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck stood up. Brian couldn’t seriously mean...

“Clarence Murray wants to hire you to work on his campaign for a special election for the Missouri Senate seat recently vacated by the disgraced Senator Struthers.” Somehow, Brian managed to sound enthusiastic.

It took a lot to surprise Daniel but for a moment, he was truly stunned.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” It hadn’t even been two years since Daniel had destroyed Clarence Murray in a bid for the Missouri governor’s office. “Murray is insane.”

“However true that may or may not be, he has a lot of well-funded campaign donors.” Brian’s voice had leveled out, which was not a good sign.

“After what we did to him two years ago, you still think he’s electable?” But even as he asked, Daniel knew how Brian would respond.

“It’s not my job to decide if he’s electable or not. He and his donors think he’s electable, so it’s my job to assemble a team and get him elected. That’s where you come in.”

Daniel kept searching. Murray, it seemed, had spent the better part of the last two years lying low and rebuilding his supporter base. Clarence Murray was a fire-and-brimstone preacher. He played well across the Bible Belt and had a solid evangelical base. But his beliefs were extreme and would never have a crossover appeal.

“No,” he told Brian.

“Come on, Lee—it’ll be fun. I’m already hearing whispers that Democrats think they can win this seat.”

And then, there she was—halfway down the list of search results. Daniel recognized that headline—he had written it himself. He had chosen the picture of her because the angle was horrible and she looked like she had three extra chins. Seeing it again hit him like a punch to the gut.

Murray’s Daughter Pregnant—Who Is The Baby Daddy?

Clarence Murray might have delusions of grandeur about being God’s chosen politician. But in the end, it had been his pregnant daughter who had cost him the election. His pregnant, unmarried daughter.

Christine Murray.

Because Daniel was the one who had made her a campaign issue.

All was fair in love and war—and politics. For years, Daniel had played the game as well as anyone. Sometimes his candidates lost. More often than not, they won. Each time Daniel had worked a campaign, he’d gotten better at ferreting out secrets. And if candidates had few secrets, then Daniel had...well, not invented them. But he had always found some kernel of truth that could be stretched into something resembling a scandal. Nobody was completely clean.

Not even Daniel.

He read about Christine Murray, that anxious pit in his stomach coiling more tightly, a snake getting ready to strike. It didn’t seem possible that he felt bad about what he had done. He never had before. But as he looked at the images of her online—and the headlines that he had not written about her—he had to face the fact that he had done a terrible thing to an innocent bystander.

“You know they’re going to come after his daughter again.”

As odd as it seemed now, it appeared that, at the advanced age of thirty-four, Daniel Lee had developed a conscience.

Christine Murray had been twenty-four years old when her father had run for governor. From what Daniel had been able to dig up, she hadn’t lived at home since she’d gone to college at the age of eighteen. She’d had a wild youth after the death of her mother—the stereotypical preacher’s daughter—but by all appearances she had quickly settled down. She’d gotten a degree in finance. By all accounts, she had very little to do with Clarence Murray. Instead, she had gotten engaged and then gotten pregnant. By itself, there really wasn’t anything scandalous about that.

Except that her father was running on a faith-and-family-values platform and having an unwed, pregnant daughter was exactly the sort of ammunition Daniel had needed to knock Clarence Murray out of the race.

Daniel had dragged that woman through the mud. When her fiancé had dumped her, Daniel had made hay while the sun still shone.

“I wouldn’t worry about her,” Brian said, sounding smug. “I have a plan. But I need you by my side. What do you say to one more—for old time’s sake?”

Consciences were messy things. Daniel’s stomach turned. No wonder he hadn’t had one for so long.

Christine Murray stared at him from dozens of photos on his computer screen. Blonde, petite, curvy, with huge blue eyes—absolutely beautiful, except that, in all of the pictures, she looked like a wild deer that had been cornered by a pack of hungry wolves.

“Can’t help you,” Daniel told Brian. Because he couldn’t. He hadn’t felt bad about working to defeat Clarence Murray. The man was not fit to govern.

But Christine Murray?

“Lee, quit joking around. It’s going to be a bloodbath and I need you by my side. No one can uncover secrets like you.”

“Good luck with your candidate,” he said. “But I’m out.”

Brian hesitated. “Is it just because of Murray?”

“No. I’m out for good. Don’t call me again.”

“Is that an order?” Brian’s voice got level again—which continued to be a bad sign. “Because I thought we were friends, Lee. I thought we had been friends for a long, long time.”

Daniel was no idiot. He knew a threat when he heard one. And running a political campaign involved negotiating the ever-moving line between legal and illegal, ethical and unethical. Nobody cared about morals.

Brian’s threat was empty, though. He couldn’t very well throw Daniel under the bus without getting his own legs run over.

“I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines.” As Daniel said it, Christine Murray’s trapped eyes continued to stare at him from the computer screen.

Two years ago he’d realized she was stunning. A man would have to be blind not to see it. But he had ignored the attraction then. He should be able to do the same now. Something as base and inconvenient as desire screwed things up. It always did.

“You’re making a mistake, Lee.”

“I have a business to run. But it’s been good talking to you, Brian.” And with that parting line, he hung up. Daniel tried to turn his attention back to the latest reports on the marketing campaign for the Beaumont Brewery’s launch of a new craft beer. But for once, Daniel couldn’t focus.

He found himself staring at pictures of Christine Murray as his mind spun out all of the possibilities. Naïvely, Daniel found himself hoping that her father’s opponent would leave Christine Murray out of it. He went back to his search results. There wasn’t much. There was an announcement that her child had been born, a daughter. There was a teaser article that suggested she was going to sign for the next season of Ballroom Dancing With Superstars—but that was from the previous season. Clearly, she hadn’t.

After digging deeper, he found what he was looking for—a small bio with the standard headshot attached to the First City Bank of Denver’s website. It had to be her—those blue eyes were unmistakable. She was a loan officer at the First City Bank. And she was in Denver? He’d been out of the game too long—he hadn’t realized she was so close.

Christine had nothing to do with her father—especially not if she had been in Denver for the last year and a half. She might not get dragged into this special election.

But Daniel knew that wasn’t how things worked. The opposition’s campaign manager would size up the competition. It would take all of twelve seconds to dig up every piece of useful information he could on Clarence Murray and when he did, Christine would be at the top of that list.

They would come for her again.

Daniel didn’t like guilt. And he shouldn’t care.

But he stared at the small picture on the bank’s website. She didn’t look trapped in that photo. She looked cautious, though. She looked like a woman who believed putting any picture of herself on the internet was inviting abuse.

If Daniel had any faith in Clarence Murray actually being a spiritual man, he might try to convince himself that Murray would close ranks around his daughter, try to protect her.

But Brian White wouldn’t allow that to happen. Christine Murray was a liability. Daniel was willing to bet large sums of money—and he had large sums of money to bet—that Brian would attack her first. He would make an example out of her to show that Clarence Murray did not engage in nepotism and stuck by his beliefs.

Daniel picked up the phone and dialed the executive office. “Yes?” his half brother, Zeb, said into the phone. “Do you have those numbers?”

Daniel absolutely should not get involved. But two well-funded, cutthroat political campaigns were about to descend upon Christine Murray. “Not yet. I need to be out of the office for a little bit—hopefully just a couple of hours, but it has the potential to become more involved.”

Zeb was quiet for a moment. “Everything okay?”

They had a tenuous relationship that was part stranger, part boss, part brother. The familial bonds felt awkward for both of them. “It should be. But if it becomes more involved, I’ll let you know.”

Zeb chuckled. “Yeah, that was reassuring. Good luck.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it.”

Which didn’t change the fact that he was going to need all the luck he could get.

* * *

Christine Murray looked longingly at the coffeepot in the break room. She needed something stronger than green tea, but she had learned the hard way that if she had coffee this late in the day and then nursed Marie at bedtime, the girl would be bouncing off the walls all night long.

Not that Marie would sleep, anyway. She was teething—again—and all Christine could do was cling to her sanity in a blind stumble toward the weekend, where she would at least get to nap when Marie went down in the afternoon.

It was days like today that she gave thanks that she was a loan officer instead of a teller. She’d always liked being a teller—the job had paid her way through college. But she did not have it in her today to be perky.

Tea in hand, she settled in at her desk and stared at her computer without really seeing anything. She allowed herself a moment of indulgence to think what if. What if Doyle, her fiancé, had stuck by her during her father’s last campaign? What if they had gotten married like they planned? What if she had some help with Marie?

But if she was going to dream about the impossible, she might as well go all out. What if her mom hadn’t died? What if her father hadn’t been on a quixotic journey toward political office for the last fifteen years? What if she had grown up in a normal household with normal parents?

Her phone rang, snapping her out of her reverie where life was perfect and everybody got at least seven hours of sleep every night. “Thank you for calling First City Bank of Denver, this is Christine. How can I help you?”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Murray.” Something in the man’s voice set her teeth on edge. “We haven’t been properly introduced but my name is Brian White and I’m calling on behalf of your father, Clarence Murray,” he added, as if Christine could possibly forget who her father was.

She slammed the phone down before she even realized what she was doing. She would never forget the name of the man who had ruined her life.

Brian White had been a campaign manager for the opponent in her father’s last attempt at higher office.

The phone rang again and she knew it was him. She didn’t want to answer it but she was at work. There was a chance that someone was calling about a loan. So, squeezing her eyes shut, she answered.

“Ms. Murray—I believe we were disconnected.”

The bottom fell out of her stomach and she sat bolt upright at her desk. “What do you want?”

“Ms. Murray. There is no need to sound alarmed,” he went on in that slick voice, which of course only scared her more. “Your father has asked me to reach out to you.”

“Oh?” Her voice wavered, darn it all. “He couldn’t bother to call me himself, I guess? I’m only his daughter, right?”

Mentally, she high-fived herself. She was still getting used to standing up for herself. She was not going to cower before political consultants or campaign managers or even her father.

That victory was incredibly short-lived because she realized a call from a campaign manager could only mean one thing. One terrible, awful thing.

“Your father is going to be running for the US Senate seat in the state of Missouri—were you aware that it recently became open?”

Christine did not throw up all over her desk. Score one for adulting. “I was not.”

“Sex scandals are such a tricky thing to negotiate. And the people of Missouri are going to be looking for someone with an unimpeachable character and record—someone like your father.”

Maybe she was so tired that she had fallen asleep at her desk and was having a nightmare. Wake up, she told herself.

Brian White kept talking. “What we’d like to do is make you a part of this campaign. A redemption story, if you will.”

Oh, God. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Because she had a very good idea of what a redemption story would look like to her father. There would be a public confession of her many, many sins. Probably something resembling a walk of shame. And that was just for starters. Her father would expect her to go on talk shows and accompany him on the campaign trail. Knowing him, he would expect her to find a nice man and then make Marie legitimate by getting married.

Her heart was going to beat itself right out of her chest. She had to physically hold on to the desk to keep from falling out of her chair when Mr. White said, “Oh, I think you will. You’re a very important part of your father’s campaign and he insists on bringing you back into the fold.”

She hadn’t heard from the man since his last concession speech—a garbled screed against sin and the devil where he had apologized to his faithful believers for his daughter, who had stained his quest for truth, justice and the American way. “He’s had almost two years to bring me back in the fold and he can’t even bring himself to do it. He has to get his lapdog to call me.”

White chuckled. “I can see this is a bad time. I’ll call again in a couple of days, when you’ve had time to think the proposition over. You are going to want my help, Ms. Murray. Because without it...”

It wasn’t so much a threat as a statement of fact. She was about to lose control of her life all over again and for what? For her father’s misguided attempts at winning a political office?

Last time had been bad enough. Her every misdeed, her every bad picture—all that had suddenly become fodder for the gossip mill. The television commercials had been the worst—her photos had been distorted so she looked like a stupid cow chewing cud instead of a woman who was six months pregnant. It had been the darkest time of her life.

This time would be so much worse because they wouldn’t just come for her. She had survived that kind of attack once before. It was awful and painful, but she had survived.

No, this time they would come for Marie. Her precious little girl.

Christine hung up the phone and somehow made it to the ladies’ room. She locked herself in a stall and sobbed. Why was her father doing this? Why was he doing it to her? She knew Clarence Murray didn’t love her. But surely he had a little human decency—just enough that he would want to shield his only granddaughter from the media?

Oh, who was she kidding? Her father had never considered anyone else’s needs. The only thing that mattered was what he decided God had meant for him to do.

“Christine? Are you okay?”

It was Sue, a teller who was Christine’s best work friend. How long had she been in there? She dried her eyes on industrial-grade toilet paper and opened the door. “I’m fine.”

But even as she said it, Sue gasped and recoiled in horror before throwing her arms around Christine’s shoulders and hugging her. “Oh, honey—who died?”

Christine almost laughed because if she didn’t, she would start crying again. “It’s nothing.”

The ramifications of her father’s latest campaign began to spin out for her. The bank’s owner, Mr. Whalen, would not appreciate this sort of attention. She might have to uproot her life. Go somewhere new and start over.

The prospect was daunting. With what money? She had a couple hundred socked away in the bank, which was not a heck of a lot. She didn’t want to have to give up her life, her identity—to say nothing of her privacy and sanity—just so her father could lose a campaign again.

What was she going to do?

One of the reasons she had moved to Denver was that fewer people knew who she was. Murray was just another last name here.

So Christine did what she had to do—she lied again. “I’m hormonal and Marie is teething and I’m so tired.” Not that it was much of a lie. She merely left out the bits about political intrigue.

“Here, let me fix you up.” Sue produced her purse, which was sixty-three percent makeup. Christine felt a moment of longing for those days. Currently, her purse consisted of diapers, wet wipes, bibs, crayon stubs, random Cheerios and things she didn’t want to think about. Glamour and beauty were low on her list right now.

Still, there was something comforting about letting Sue apply under-eye concealer and powder her face, especially since Sue was relatively close in coloring to Christine and was only a few inches shorter—they’d been able to swap clothes a few times.

“Am I in trouble, do you think?” She had no idea how long she had been hiding in the ladies’ room. All she knew was that Brian White and Clarence Murray and the media couldn’t reach her in there. If she did not have to pick up Marie tonight from day care, she would never leave the ladies’ room. This place was her sanctuary.

Except for the small detail that she was still at work. “There’s some guy out there waiting to talk to you.” Christine must have looked stricken because Sue quickly added, “He’s not mad or anything. He’s hot. Tall, dark—extremely handsome. I didn’t see a ring.”

It was all she could do to get her mouth closed. “You checked him out?” But even as she said that, she felt the weight on her shoulders lighten ever so slightly. After Brian White had ruined her life, she’d looked him up on the internet. He was not tall. He was not dark. No one would ever accuse him of being handsome. The man was short, pudgy and balding.

Which meant that whoever was waiting for her at her desk was not a campaign manager representing her father.

“Of course,” Sue said. “Wait until you see him. I bet he’s a male model. Maybe even a movie star—he’s that hot.”

Christine snorted. She didn’t need hot—she needed help. Real, tangible help. She needed someone who would get Brian White and her father to leave her alone. She needed someone who could help her protect Marie. She needed brains and brawn. And she needed enough money to pay for all of that.

She might as well ask for a unicorn for her birthday. “We don’t give out loans based on hotness.”

“We should. There,” Sue added. “You look human again.”

Christine hugged her friend and strengthened her mental resolve. “Thank you. I better get out there and meet Mr. Hot.”

If she couldn’t get through one day at a time, she’d take it one hour at a time. One minute at a time.

Sixty seconds. She could do this.

God, she hoped.

Two

Her courage fortified and her under-eye bags hidden, Christine headed to her desk. She rounded the corner and pulled up short—Sue had not been lying. The gentleman waiting for her was beyond hot. His dark hair was perfectly slicked back, giving him a smooth look. And was that suit custom-made?

Even though he was casually sitting in the chair in front of her desk, one leg crossed over the other, she got the impression of a knife—sharp and potentially dangerous. When he noticed her, he came to his feet like a cat uncoiling from a nap. She revised her earlier opinion. He was not potentially dangerous—he was dangerous.

“Ms. Murray.” There was a tone of the familiar in his voice and she felt herself gritting her teeth. Did he know who she was?

“Welcome to the First City Bank of Denver.” Because she was at work, she extended her hand in a polite businessperson’s handshake. “And you are?”

He stared down at her for a moment and she almost got lost in his light brown eyes. Up close, she realized that his hair wasn’t black—there was a hint of red that lightened the color to a deep mahogany. It was a striking look on the man.

Against her will, her pulse began to flutter in her neck. Men generally did not look at her with interest. She was short and chunky and she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure she didn’t have oatmeal stains from Marie’s breakfast on her shirt.

“Lee.” He slid his hand into hers but instead of the acceptable three-pump handshake, he just held her hand, palm to palm. “Daniel Lee.” As he said his name—slowly and carefully—he studied her.

What was this? Was he checking to see what her reaction would be?

She swallowed nervously. Was she supposed to know who he was? Something about him seemed familiar. Maybe he was a movie star? Or at least a cable TV star? But his name didn’t ring a bell. He was so incredibly gorgeous that it was making it hard for her to think.

She should have stayed in the ladies’ room. “How can I help you today, Mr. Lee?” she said, taking sanctuary behind her desk. She felt better with four feet of wood between them.

He stood for a moment too long, staring down at her. Nervously, she lifted her gaze back to him. The suit was most definitely custom-made—the shirt was, also. Those trappings did little to disguise the raw power of his body. Again, she thought of a dagger in a perfectly made sheath. He was the sort of man who always got his way.

The sort she avoided like the plague. Because men like him never cared for women like her and they certainly never cared for babies like Marie. Christine was tired of being collateral damage.

She motioned toward the chair. She couldn’t handle him looming over her.

He sat, somehow making her standard-issue office chair look as regal as a throne. “I don’t think the question is what you can do for me, Ms. Murray. The question is what I can do for you.”

She needed to start carrying pepper spray. “I’m not interested.”

One corner of his mouth—not that she was staring—curved into a deadly smile. Christine was both simultaneously thankful that Sue had fixed her face and upset that she had. If only Christine looked like she was having the worst day of her life, this man might not be staring at her quite so intently. “Are you sure? You don’t even know why I’m here.”

This was something that was different from two years ago. Then, when the reporters had first started showing up at her home and following her to work in Kansas City, she hadn’t been ready for it. Footage of her stammering and looking petrified was all over the internet. Even she had to admit that she looked guilty as sin in those videos.

But she learned how to brace herself for the attacks and how to keep her face relatively calm. She wasn’t the same clueless girl she’d been back then. And besides, she already had advance warning.

“Who sent you? My father?”

That dangerous smile fell away from his face. Ha, Christine thought. She’d caught him off guard and that counted for something.

“No. But I’m going to make an educated guess that you received a phone call today—probably from Brian White.” Although she didn’t want to react, she could feel the blood draining out of her face. This guy knew who Brian White was? “Yes,” he said in a voice that might have been gentle coming from anyone else. “I can see that you did. I was hoping to get to you before he did.”

“Who do you work for?” And as much as she wanted to sound strong and brave, her voice came out shaky. Because how much did one woman have to endure?

Something flashed over his eyes and if she didn’t know better, she would’ve said it was guilt. “I am the executive vice-president and chief marketing officer of the Beaumont Brewery. I do not work for your father, nor do I work for any potential opponents of his. I have no interest in forcing you to publicly...” He waved a hand, as if he could pull the right words out of thin air. “Repudiate your life choices, nor do I have any interest in using them against you.”

Well. At least he hadn’t called Marie a sin. Although “life choice” wasn’t a huge step up.

Wait. Was that why he looked familiar? He was one of those bastards—Beaumont’s bastards. His brother or half brother—she had no hope of ever keeping the Beaumonts straight—had taken over the brewery. She’d only been in Denver for a few months when that happened. And besides, she didn’t drink anymore.

Why was the executive vice-president of the Beaumont Brewery offering her help? It felt like a trap. A really obvious trap. “Who are you, really?”

He didn’t answer the question. “I know what’s coming—and so do you. Because here’s what happened. Mr. White offered to redeem your reputation and, when you refused his so-called help, he threatened to make an example of you.”

Her vision swam. She wanted to go someplace quiet and dark and lie down and close her eyes and open them again and find out this entire thing had been one never-ending nightmare.

But this Daniel Lee was right. “How do you know?”

He looked pained—truly pained. He stood and pulled out a business card. He extended it to her, but she didn’t take it from him and, after an awkward moment, he set it on the corner of her desk. “Because I was the one who found out you were pregnant. I’m the one who made it a news story. Everything that happened to you was a direct result of my actions, which means that—” he went on, ignoring Christine’s gasp of horror “—everything that happens to you from this point on is also my responsibility. You’re going to get dragged, Christine. I know what White is capable of and we both know what your father is capable of. You need my help. You can’t handle this by yourself.”

“Get out.” She wanted to stand to make her point, but she didn’t trust her legs. It was him. This slick, smooth, unfortunately hot man had helped Brian White ruin her life. She really was going to throw up, adulting be damned. “If I see you anywhere near me or my daughter, I’m calling the police.”

He inclined his head in her direction, something that was almost a bow. “As you wish. But the offer stands. I no longer work as a political consultant, but I know how to play the game. I can protect you. You and your daughter.” He touched the tip of his index finger to the top of the silver frame that held a small picture of Marie on her first birthday.

Christine’s mouth was dry and her throat wasn’t working. She desperately wanted to tell this man to go to hell but before she could form the words, he gave her another one of those half bows, turned on his heel, and walked away.

* * *

Christine began to search during her breaks. Although he had not officially declared his candidacy, “sources close to Clarence Murray” were leaking teasers about his upcoming campaign—the kind of leaks that were designed to inspire his political base and raise funds from the faithful.

She couldn’t find anything about Daniel Lee. She didn’t even bother looking for Brian White. White was the scum of the earth and she didn’t want him to pollute her brain any more than necessary.

But Lee confused her. He had taken full credit for dragging her into the last campaign. If—and it was a huge if—his offer of help had been sincere, it had almost been...an apology.

But she couldn’t even find a mention of him that existed before he suddenly appeared by Zeb Richards’s side at the Beaumont Brewery. His official brewery biography stated that he had a long history of working for political campaigns but the man was like a ghost. And with a last name like Lee, there was no way to track him down.

She found herself staring at his official company photo. It wasn’t fair how good-looking he was. If she had to guess, she would say he was at least part Asian—but that didn’t exactly narrow things down. Lee was a popular name in several Asian countries. Searching “Daniel Lee” led to an overwhelming number of results.

She didn’t want his help. Frankly, she didn’t want anyone’s help. If there was one thing she had learned, it was that relying on other people was asking to be disappointed. She had thought she could rely on Doyle. After all, they’d been engaged. They’d taken the first step in publicly declaring their love. They’d created a child together.

But when she’d really needed him, Doyle had run. Not that she could blame him—if she could have gotten away from the media attention, she would’ve. Still, it hurt. It hurt that he sent a monthly child support check and had nothing to do with his daughter.

It was foolish to keep hoping that no one would pay attention to Christine and her daughter. But short of calling Daniel Lee and asking what, exactly, he had in mind when he said he could protect her and Marie, she didn’t know what else to do.

So she did nothing. She did her job and she took care of her daughter and foolishly hoped for the best.

* * *

“Who’s the target?”

Daniel leveled a look at Porter Cole, the private investigator who’d done work for him in Denver on numerous occasions. Referring to Christine as a “target” grated on Daniel’s nerves. “Christine Murray.”

Porter made it his job to know things. “What are we looking for?”

Porter had done more than enough work for Daniel to trust him with sensitive directives. But Daniel wasn’t about to let the man know he had suddenly developed a conscience. “You’re not looking for anything about her.”

Porter stared at him in confusion. “Then what are we doing?”

“I have reason to believe she’s about to get a tail. I want to know who’s watching her and her daughter, when and for how long. And I want the means to get them off her tail. Outstanding warrants, whatever it takes.”

Seeing Christine Murray in person had made everything a thousand times worse. Had he thought she was beautiful before? In person, she was so much more than that. Delicate and vulnerable—scared and mad—but underneath was a core of strength that took everything lovely about her and made her that much more attractive.

Porter notched an eyebrow as he scanned the file on Christine. “Any particular reason?”

“None that you need to know.” Which was a bit of posturing and Daniel knew it. Porter was a smart man, more than capable of connecting the dots. “As usual, do not engage unless there’s a threat.”

“Contact for defense only. Got it. Anything else?” He handed the file back to Daniel.

“No.” Daniel took the file and put it in his desk drawer, which he then locked. “Absolute secrecy, as always.”

“As always.” Porter gave him a long look before standing and straightening his blazer, which concealed his gun. “If you don’t mind me saying, I thought you got out of politics.”

“I did. This isn’t politics.”

Porter smirked as he walked out of Daniel’s office and said, “You’ll be hearing from me,” as if he didn’t believe Daniel.

For once, it was the unvarnished truth.

What he was doing for Christine Murray—it wasn’t politics.

It was personal.

* * *

Daniel waited impatiently. Normally, waiting was something he did well. He played a long game—always had. It was one of the things he’d learned at his grandfather’s knee back in Seoul, South Korea. Most people looked at the trees. A few people could stand in front of the trees and know they were looking at the forest. But they wouldn’t have any idea of how big that forest was. Daniel prided himself on knowing every tree in every acre in the never-ending forest.

He had Christine Murray figured for one of two things. One, she would either call him in a state of blind panic the moment her face appeared on the internet again. Or two, she would disappear.

Okay, maybe that was overstating. Because even though she had clearly been upset when he had approached her at work, she hadn’t panicked. She’d maintained her composure and even gotten in a couple of good digs at him.

He couldn’t help it. He admired her. It felt risky, this admiration. Combined with the attraction he couldn’t quite rein in, it made Christine Murray feel dangerous. She made him want to do things that weren’t logical.

Things like pay for private investigators to shadow her. He’d already gotten a report from Porter Cole. Porter had caught a guy trying to break into Christine’s apartment while she was at work. According to his report, Porter had acted like he was a resident of the apartment complex and scared the guy off. But both Daniel and Porter knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. Someone wanted inside Christine’s apartment, no doubt to gather evidence that could be used against her in the court of public opinion.

Porter said there was also a woman who lingered near the child’s day care. At pick up and drop off, and when the children went out to the playground, the woman was within line of sight. Probably taking pictures of the little girl Daniel had seen in the small frame on Christine’s desk.

The little girl had wispy light brown hair, but her eyes were almost exactly like her mother’s brilliant blue ones. Except innocent and hopeful, instead of trapped and scared.

Christine didn’t want his help but she desperately needed it. It would be so much easier if she were willing to talk to him. They could coordinate and come up with a plan that would minimize this disruption to her and her daughter’s lives.

But that wasn’t going to happen. At least not immediately. Daniel revised his original opinion. She would not call him in a panic the moment she became an internet story. She’d already told Brian off and then told him off. She wouldn’t be spooked by a little media coverage. She’d try to brazen it out just like she had at the bank. It was a brave choice. Stupid, but brave.

No, Daniel wouldn’t hear from Christine when she became news. But when her daughter became news?

That was when she would either call him or disappear.

He figured he had a week before Clarence Murray announced his candidacy for the open US Senate seat in Missouri.

If only his grandfather could see him now. Lee Dae-Won wouldn’t contain his disappointment at Daniel’s choices—yet again. Daniel had never been smart enough or ambitious enough or legitimate enough—and certainly never Korean enough—for his grandfather. All might have been forgiven if Daniel had married any of the dozens of acceptable Korean women his grandfather had paraded in front of him over the years and started a family to carry on the family business.

Daniel had steadfastly refused to marry anyone, much less father any children. And he had refused to move to South Korea permanently and live under his grandfather’s thumb. It had driven the old man insane that his only heir had rejected the family business, Lee Enterprises.

Daniel liked to think that, at least as a political consultant, he had made the old man proud. Lee Dae-Won hadn’t become one of the richest men in South Korea by investing wisely in real estate and electronic manufacturing. Daniel’s grandfather had gained power through manipulation, lies and outright bribery. He had trafficked in secrets and that, more than family honor or loyalty, was what Daniel had learned at his knee during summer vacations spent at the family compound in Seoul.

He who controlled the information controlled the world.

Daniel hated not being in control.

He shouldn’t care about what happened to Christine or her daughter. At the very least, the basic security measures he was enacting on her behalf should relieve him of his guilt.

It didn’t.

Because he had to admit that he did care. He’d catch himself staring at her photo again. And that? That had nothing to do with guilt.

He hoped she’d call him. That was all he could do. The next contact had to be hers.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t anything else he could be doing right now, though. He scrolled through his contacts list until he found the number he was looking for.

“Hello, Daniel,” Natalie Wesley said, answering on the second ring. “Is this a business call or not?”

“What’s to say it’s not both?” he asked, trying to sound like he was teasing her and knowing he was failing miserably. “How are you and CJ?”

CJ Wesley was another one of Daniel’s half brothers—another one of Hardwick Beaumont’s bastards. CJ was the one who hadn’t wanted anything to do with the Beaumont Brewery. He was a rancher up on the northeast side of Denver and he preferred his privacy. Which made it all the funnier that he had married the former television personality Natalie Baker—the same woman who had tried to expose his parentage to the world.

Natalie was one of the very few people who had been able to locate CJ and ascertain his identity. Plus, she’d had her own morning news show, A Good Morning With Natalie Baker, for almost a decade. She was an investigative journalist who knew how to talk to the cameras. “We’re fine. You should come up and see us. CJ is determined to get you on a horse, you know.”

“I’ll do that sometime,” Daniel said. While of course he cared for CJ—he was fond of nearly all of his half siblings—CJ was the hardest to be around. His mother had married a good man and he’d had a good life. CJ was at ease with himself in a way that Daniel could never pull off. “I have a situation that I’m going to need your help with.”

Natalie sighed. “The offer stands, Daniel. But what is it?”

“What do you know about Christine Murray?”

“Who?”

So, over the next twenty minutes, Daniel filled her in. “Thus far, she hasn’t accepted my help. But when she does, we’ll need to do damage control.”

“Manipulate the search rankings, plant positive news articles, maybe an interview?”

“Yes.”

“Got it.” There was a pause and Daniel braced for the sisterly concern. “We worry about you, you know.”

“Why?” His health was great. He was helping to run the third-largest brewery in America and he owned a substantial share of Lee Enterprises. He owned homes in Seoul, Denver and Chicago. What was there to worry about?

Okay, so he was a little troubled about Christine Murray and her daughter. But that wasn’t cause for alarm.

“Daniel...” Her voice trailed off. “Never mind. I’ll look into this and get back to you if I find out anything.”

It was strange that he felt disappointed she hadn’t said something else. Even though he had no idea what he wanted her to say. “Thanks.” He ended the call and refreshed the tab he kept open with his searches on Christine Murray. There was nothing new. Not yet, anyway.

But there would be. Soon.

Three

Everything, it seemed, happened at once. One moment, Christine was just doing her job at the bank and trying not to think about the worst-case scenarios or Daniel Lee and his seemingly sincere offer of help. Or the way he filled out a suit.

Suddenly, the alerts she had set up on web searches started piling up in her inbox. Clarence Murray had declared his candidacy for the open US Senate seat. Her phone started to ring, as if people had just been waiting for the official announcement. She was trying to read the article about her father and trying to answer the phone in her business-professional voice and saying no comment over and over again when it happened.

Will Murray’s Granddaughter Cost Him This Election, Too?

And there it was—the photo of her with Marie on her hip, alongside her Honda Civic. It wasn’t a good photo—clearly, it had been taken from some distance. The image was so grainy it could have been almost anyone.

But it was her daughter. They knew where she was and they knew how to take pictures of her daughter and suddenly, Christine couldn’t bear it.

With hands shaking, she pulled the nondescript business card out from underneath her office phone. She had wanted to throw Daniel Lee’s card away—but she’d been unable to do it. Because what he’d said had felt true, somehow.

Would he actually help her? Or was he working an angle that she hadn’t found yet?

Her phone rang again and this time, she recognized the voice on the other end. Brian White—the devil she didn’t want to know. “Ms. Murray,” he said, as if they were the oldest of friends. “I’m checking back in with you. As you may have heard, your father has officially declared his candidacy and I—”

She hung up the phone. She didn’t want to hear his fake offers of help and she especially did not want to hear his thinly veiled threats.

She did the only thing she could—she grabbed her cell phone and hurried to the ladies’ room. Daniel Lee’s card was a plain white rectangle of paper with two lines of text set directly in the middle—his name and a telephone number. She was shaking so violently that she misdialed the number twice before she finally got it right and even then, she sat for a moment on the stool in the farthest stall and wondered if she wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of her life.

But then she thought about the headline, the one implying that a fourteen-month-old baby had the power to decide elections. The photos would only get better and the headlines would only get worse.

She hit the button and held the phone to her ear. “This is Daniel.”

“Um, hello. You gave me your card—”

“Christine? Are you all right?”

She forced herself to take a deep breath and tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. No, she was not all right. Not even close. “Hi. Um, I need to know if what you said when you talked to me last week still applies. The offer about, um, helping me and my daughter?”

“You saw the articles?”

Her vision began to swim and she couldn’t tell if she was about to pass out or if she was just crying again. “There’s more than one?”

There was a long pause. “That’s not important right now. What is important is that you make sure you and your daughter are safe and that we can get together and formulate a plan.”

It sounded good. Someone was concerned with their safety. Someone had a plan and the means of enacting it. If life were perfect, this would be the answer to her prayers.

Life had never been perfect. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you didn’t write those articles or take those pictures? How do I know you’re not setting me up?”

“You don’t.”

Well, if that didn’t just beat all. She let out a frustrated laugh. “You’re not inspiring confidence right now.”

“I’m being honest. You and I both know that if I told you I had nothing to do with those articles and promised you that you could trust me, it would only make you doubt me even more.”

Darn it, he was right. But the heck of it was, she didn’t have much of a choice right now. Her options were few and far between and there was no guarantee that when she went to pick up Marie after work today there wouldn’t be a pack of people with cameras waiting for them. “Fine. But I don’t have to like it.”

“If you liked it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Instead, you’d be holding an impromptu press conference in the bank’s parking lot. We need to meet, Christine.”

Her stomach turned. She leaned forward, putting her head between her knees. “I don’t want you in my home. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t. Besides, I’m not going to your apartment. One of the worst things that could happen would be for a strange man to be photographed entering and leaving your apartment. Similarly, you can’t come to my place. If you’re followed—and I think it’s safe to assume you will be—that’s another set of headlines that neither of us wants.”

Okay, so he was being honest. “You want to meet in public?” Because that also seemed like a bad idea.

“And risk more media coverage? Out of the question.”

She honestly didn’t know if this conversation was making her feel better or worse. “So if we can’t meet in private and we can’t meet in public, how the heck are we supposed to meet?”

“You attend the Red Rock church, correct?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know that.”

Red Rock was her attempt to bridge the evangelical teachings of her childhood with the faith that was in her heart. She needed a spiritual home and a nondenominational megachurch was a good place to disappear.

Plus, they had a nice child care center. Going to Sunday services was as close as she got to a weekly break.

“Which service do you normally attend—the nine a.m. or the ten forty-five?”

“The later one.” This seemed like a bad idea. Meeting with a—well, she didn’t really know what to call Daniel Lee. He certainly wasn’t a friend. Maybe a spy? Finally, she decided on associate. Meeting an associate like Daniel Lee in church seemed colossally wrong.

But sometimes, there simply was no right option.

“Which side of the chapel do you sit on?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” she snapped. Immediately, she added, “Sorry. I’m under a lot of stress right now.”

“There’s no need to apologize. If I know which side you sit on, it’ll make it easier to find you. I don’t want it to look like you’re looking for me. I would like you to think if there is a classroom or a small alcove—an out-of-the-way place where we could chat without being conspicuous about it. Can you do that?”

“There will be people around. Over two thousand people go to this church.”

“We’re not hiding. We’re merely being inconspicuous.”

Was she supposed to understand that distinction? “I sit on the far left side. It’s close to the aisle and closer to the child care center if there’s a problem. And there are a few places where we could talk with minimal interruptions.” She hoped.

Actually, the idea of meeting in a semipublic place like the church wasn’t half-bad. She didn’t want to be alone with him. But if they were in the church, there would be people around. It was probably as safe as it was going to get.

“Excellent. I’ll find you after the service. But don’t hesitate to call me before then if there’s something you need help with.”

“All right.” It was Friday. Surely, she could make it through a day and a half, right?

“Christine, I’m serious. If you see someone around who makes you uncomfortable, try to get a picture of them, then call me immediately.”

“What are you going to do that the police couldn’t?”

There was another pause, one that felt heavy and ominous. “I’ll see you on Sunday,” he said, completely avoiding the question. “Keep a low profile until then.”

That made her laugh even as her eyes began to water again. “I’ve been doing that for the last year and a half. I go to work, I go grocery shopping and I go home. I do my laundry and then take care of my daughter. I don’t have wild nights on the town. I don’t take lovers. I’m the most boring person I know and see what good it’s done me?” She only realized she was shouting because her voice echoed off the tiled walls of the bathroom. “It doesn’t matter how low my profile is. I’m nothing but bait in a sea of sharks. And it’s all your fault.”

She didn’t know what she expected him to do. Defend himself? Yell? Point out that, if she had managed to get married before she’d gotten pregnant, none of this would have happened? That was her father’s favorite. This was nobody’s fault but her own.

Daniel Lee said none of those things. “I know. Just remember that help is a phone call away. You’re not alone.” And just like that, he ended the call, leaving her in a state of shock.

Had he just admitted that she was right? That didn’t seem possible. Someone as gorgeous and refined as Daniel Lee—he wasn’t the kind of person who owned up to his mistakes—was he?

As tempting as it was, she knew she could not hide out in the ladies’ room for the rest of her workday. Sooner or later, her bosses would send Sue to find her and then there would be another makeover session and she would have to go back to her desk and stare at the voicemail, which by now was probably approaching hundreds of messages.

But she couldn’t move just yet. She didn’t trust that man. She wasn’t entirely sure she trusted anyone.

You’re not alone.

Oh, if only that were true.

* * *

One of the many things Daniel had learned at a young age was how to blend in. Going to school in Chicago had been easy. He had been surrounded by children of Korean descent and other Asians, Eastern Europeans and Africans, in addition to Americans of all colors. Americans could look like anyone and be like anyone.

It hadn’t been that way in Seoul. Even as a child, he had stuck out. By the age of ten, he’d been taller than his mother and by the age of twelve, taller than his grandfather. His hair and eyes weren’t black. His eyes would never be as green as his half brother Zeb’s, but they were a light brown and his hair had an almost reddish look to it.

Most Americans guessed he was Asian, but Koreans knew he was American on sight.

So he had learned how to blend in. His grandfather had paid for a private tutor to instruct him on Korean social manners and Daniel had been an eager student—first, in the hope that he would fit into his grandfather’s world and then, when it became apparent he never would, just to show up the old man. Similarly, every fall when he came back to Chicago after three long months in Seoul, he had to relearn how to shake hands, how to tell American jokes—hell, even how to walk. He took longer strides in Chicago.

He was good at blending, though. Sometimes, due to his coloring, people thought he might be Hispanic. Daniel had learned not to mind. People saw what they wanted to see, which made it easier to blend in.

Take this Sunday morning, for instance. People wanted to see a potential new church member and Daniel gave them what they wanted. He was wearing a pair of brown corduroys and a thick cable knit sweater over a denim shirt. On top of all of that, he had on a ski jacket and snow boots and a knit cap pulled over his ears. He’d added a pair of glasses. In other words, he looked nothing like Daniel Lee but everything like a hipster attendee of a megachurch.

Daniel wanted to see Christine with his own eyes. He was responsible for dragging her name through the mud—that wasn’t even a question. But what if...

What if she was just as crazy as her father was? What if she was a manipulative, coldhearted woman?

He didn’t think so. When he had dug up all that dirt on her two years ago, he hadn’t found anyone who’d described her that way. She’d gone through a wild phase in high school, but lots of teenagers rebelled. Besides, Christine had settled down in college. She’d met the man who’d fathered her daughter and gotten her life together.

Until Daniel had blown it up.

It was easy to get lost in a crowd of this size. The day was cold and everyone was bundled up. Aside from his clothing, all he needed was a friendly smile and a certain eagerness in his gaze.

He let the crowd carry him into the lobby. He snagged a program and pretended to read it as he studied the crowd. He didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary, but then again, whoever was shadowing Christine was probably trying to blend in just as much as he was.

And then she walked right past him, that little girl in her arms. Marie, he mentally corrected himself. She wasn’t just a little girl. She was the child Christine would do anything to protect.

Christine didn’t notice him. She was busy chatting with her daughter, getting her puffy pink coat unzipped and the stocking cap off her head. It was the first time he’d seen Christine smile. God, she was stunning when she was happy.

Marie had a red nose and redder cheeks, but a big smile that she spread around the room. She even looked at Daniel and grinned, her blue eyes lighting up as if she had been waiting for him all this time.

It felt like someone had punched him in the chest. Marie really did have Christine’s eyes, hopeful and happy. And it seemed like Marie’s little face answered at least some of Daniel’s questions.

Then they were gone, disappearing down a long hallway with a steady stream of parents jostling other small children. The crowd began to move into the auditorium and Daniel moved with them, trying to stick to the back. He didn’t see either of the people Porter had identified as watching Christine, which was good.

Daniel had grown up going to a church where the service was performed in Korean in Chicago, but he was not deeply religious. He knew too much about people in power, which included religious leaders.

Nonetheless, it felt awkward to be spying on the woman in the house of God and even more wrong to be looking for other spies. He wanted at least one place to be a sanctuary for Christine.

She was one of the last people to come back into the auditorium as the band started up. This was the kind of church that had a rock ’n’ roll band in addition to gospel singing and hymns. It had a little bit of everything, with high definition video presentations and surround-sound audio.

He watched Christine without staring at her. As she settled into her seat, she nodded and smiled and said a few things to the people around her. People treated her as they would any good acquaintance they saw once a week—they were friendly, but not overly warm. Which was good. He wasn’t sure how far that first story had gotten. Christine as a news item hadn’t been picked up by network television yet. Wonky political sites didn’t have much reach outside of the political set. Plus, they were in Colorado, not Missouri.

The service was a solid hour and a half of preaching and singing and clapping. It was an engaging service, but Daniel wasn’t really paying attention. He was mentally running through all the potential outcomes.

Natalie had already started flooding the internet with positive mentions of Christine. Even if Christine wasn’t actually discussed in the article, Natalie was referencing her in the title to drive down search engine results on the other news articles. More official press releases would be released on Monday and Tuesday.

As tempting as it would be to think that would be that, Daniel knew better. Christine and her daughter were too tempting a target, the political writ large on something that should’ve been personal. The primary voting for the special election was a mere two months away and, God forbid Murray actually get his party’s nomination, the election was only two months after that. A lot could happen in four months.

The service ended with a thundering song that brought everyone to their feet and they stayed there, chatting with friends as the crowd thinned. Other parents made a beeline for the direction of the day care—but not Christine. She leaned on a pew, smiling at the person who’d been sitting in front of her—but Daniel noticed the way she was surreptitiously glancing around the room. Looking for him.

Suddenly, he was gripped with a strange urge to make her see him. He wanted her to look at him and recognize him and—he knew it was completely unreasonable—he wanted her to be happy to see him.

He had no business wanting such a thing. Obviously, what he really wanted was to be absolved of any guilt he had about the situation she now found herself in.

And then it almost happened. She did notice him. Her eyes grew wide with recognition. But it wasn’t with happiness. At best, he would call her expression one of grim acceptance.

He deserved nothing more.

He gently inclined his head to the left, gesturing toward the hallway. Her chin moved down ever so slightly.

Daniel headed into the hall, which was bustling with parents trying to get their children back into winter gear and children refusing to be coddled. The hallway was almost as loud as the band had been—and that was saying something. Another few minutes passed before Christine appeared. Daniel did not follow her. He focused on looking lost and overwhelmed. In all this noise, it wasn’t hard.

By the time Christine and Marie reappeared, many families had left and it was starting to quiet down. Christine was tickling the little girl’s tummy and Marie was shrieking with joy. Unexpectedly, Daniel felt an overwhelming urge to protect her. Marie was completely innocent and for the time being, anyway, he was glad Christine had called him.

She was looking for him this time. Her gaze met his and the lines around her mouth tightened. It was not a reaction he enjoyed inspiring in people.

That wasn’t entirely true. When he was looking at an opponent, the little sign of displeasure would be a good thing. But it bothered him coming from her.

She said loudly, “Sweetie, I think we left your hat in the day care,” before turning around.

Daniel followed at a safe distance. No one else did. The day care was downstairs and, outside of the room, there was a grouping of chairs and a sofa, along with some toys and books on a beat-up coffee table. It looked like someone had donated a living room and the church had stuck the whole set in a glorified hallway, but it was quiet and no one else came in or out of the day care.

Christine settled onto the couch and clutched Marie as if she were afraid to let her go. “I wasn’t sure if you would actually come.”

“I gave you my word.”

Her brow wrinkled. An irrational need to wipe away the doubt hit him. He wanted to make her smile, like he’d seen before the service. He wanted that smile all for himself.

He wasn’t going to get it. “You’ll forgive me if that doesn’t mean a lot to me at this point.”

She still had a lot of fight in her. A grin tugged at his lips, which made her eyes widen. “Understood, but when I make a promise to you, I’m going to keep that promise.”

He hadn’t always operated like that. But he had turned over a new leaf when he had accepted his role in the Beaumont Brewery and the Beaumont family. He did not lie to his relatives. And he wouldn’t lie to Christine.

She gave him a long look, as if she were debating whether or not to believe this particular statement. “So, what do we do now?” But the words had barely left her mouth when Marie squirmed off her lap. Christine set her down and the little girl began to sidestep her way around the coffee table.

“I have a few questions and a couple of suggestions. And then we’ll come up with a plan that minimizes the disruption to your life and keeps Marie as safe as possible.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before nodding her head. “All right. Although I can’t imagine there’s something about me you don’t know. Not if you’re the one who found out about her first.”

He felt a pang of regret—but at the same time, he was encouraged. That backbone of steel gave a flinty edge to Christine’s vulnerability and damned if he didn’t like it.

No, no—not like. Appreciate. He appreciated her resolve. “Again, let me apologize for that.”

She tried to shrug, as if his destroying her life had been just another day. “All’s fair in love and politics.”

“No, it’s not.” She looked up at him sharply, but he went on, “How much contact do you have with Marie’s father?”

She winced. “I don’t. Every now and then, I’ll send him a picture, but he doesn’t even reply to those anymore. He pays child support on time, though—my father made sure of that. It’s the only thing he’s ever done for me.”

“That’s my next question,” Daniel said, forcing himself to ignore the pain in her voice. He was trying to make it better. “How much contact do you have with your father?”

She shook her head. “He doesn’t want to breathe the same air as me. He blames me for his last loss—even though he’s lost so many elections. He’s convinced himself that if it hadn’t been for me, he would’ve won that one.”

“You don’t think he would have?”

She slumped in the chair. “Of course not. His world is black and white. He’s right and everyone who doesn’t agree with him is wrong. Most people can’t live like that. I know I couldn’t.” She grimaced, something that was supposed to look like a smile and failed. “Needless to say, I was always wrong.”

Her words made sense on a level Daniel didn’t want to inspect too closely. “I don’t think you’re wrong, Christine.”

Whatever attempt at a smile she had made faded. “It’s nice of you to say that but I still don’t know why you’re here or what you think you’re going to get out of helping me.”

“What I want isn’t important. It’s my responsibility to shield you and your daughter from the coming storm. That’s all there is to it.”

As he said it, he looked down at the little girl who was still cruising around the coffee table. As if she knew she was being talked about, she looked up at him and smiled a drooly smile. She made her way over to him and then, in a moment of bravery, let go of the coffee table and all but fell into his legs.

Acting on instinct, Daniel caught her. He had not dealt with children a great deal. He was an uncle several times over, thanks to all of his various half siblings. He had even held Zeb’s daughter, Amanda. But that had been when the baby was asleep.

Marie was much larger, squirming and laughing as she looked up at him with those trusting blue eyes. “Hello, Marie.”

Marie giggled in response to this and leaned in to him. She was warm and heavy and impossibly cute.

It felt like something shifted in his chest as he stared down at her, the past and future all mixed up in one innocent child.

Then she squirmed and pointed at the coffee table, leaning so far that he had to hold on to her to keep her from toppling over. “She wants to read you a book,” Christine said, a note of caution in her voice.

“All right.” He scooped one of the dog-eared books off the table. He flipped it open and the little girl began to make babbling sounds. She pointed at a picture and then looked up at him, her eyes so big and so blue. Then she paused.

“She’s waiting for you to respond,” Christine said. Daniel glanced up at her to see that she was watching this entire scene unfold with interest.

Respond? “Really?” he said, hoping that was what Marie wanted to hear.

It was, apparently. She turned the page and chattered before waiting for Daniel. So he said, “Really?” again, this time with more emphasis. Marie nodded, her downy hair floating around her head.

There was something awkward about this entire arrangement. He was sitting in the basement of a church that he did not attend, holding a child who was not his. But at the same time, there was something that felt...right about it, too. Marie was proof there could still be sweetness and innocence in the world.

That realization he’d had earlier hit him again, harder this time.

He had to protect her. He had to protect them both.

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