Her Secret, His Child: A Little Secret by Tara Quinn (rosie project .txt) 📕

"Where you going, Mommy?"

Ashley was staring at her mother, big gray eyes wide open. Always observing. Always aware.

"Just to make a phone call," Jamie told herself as well as the child. It was only a phone call. She'd talk to him, find out what he wanted. How had Kyle Radcliff tracked her down…and why? He didn't know— couldn't possibly know—about Ashley.

"Don't you want to see the movie?" Ashley's sweet voice was filled with concern. Her thumb stole to her mouth.

"Of course I do, baby!" Jamie said. She rounded the table and knelt down by her daughter's chair. "I'll hurry."

"Okay, Mommy."

Smiling, choking back tears, Jamie leaned forward and kissed Ashley's cheek.

"Love you, Mommy," Ashley said without relinquishing her thumb.

"Love you, too, baby." Jamie fled.

Dear Reader,

Almost everyone is biologically equipped to reproduce. But as miraculous as birth is, the true miracle comes not in the giving of life but in the nurturing of it. No job or other endeavor will ever be more important than the raising up of innocent lives. To have a child completely dependent on you for food and clothing, for safety, for emotional health, for guidance, is an immense responsibility. I've often thought you can judge people not by how they look or dress, the position they might hold in society, not by education, financial status or geographical location, but by how effective they are as parents.

Unfortunately, good people are sometimes driven by life, by circumstances, by tragedy, to make bad decisions. Yet it seems to me that a bad decision doesn't necessarily make a bad person. Sometimes, though, a person can be imprisoned by such a decision because our society tends to look only at the surface…tends not to look beyond mistakes and their consequences.

Certainly, accountability is crucial, cost is just, but one of the great beauties of life is the opportunity for second chances. I cling to that promise.

Her Secret, His Child was with me long before I wrote my first book. I'm glad to finally have the opportunity to bring you this novel and hope you will join me in celebrating the incredible strength of the human spirit as you share Jamie's story.

Tara Taylor Quinn

P.S. I'm always delighted to hear from my readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 15065, Scottsdale, Arizona 85267-5065 or on-line at http://www.Mcad.com/~ttquinn.

HER SECRET,

HIS CHILD

Tara Taylor Qulnn

HARLEQUIN'

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM «ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

ISBN 0-373-70836-X

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

Copyright © 1999 by Tara Lee Reames.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

Look us up on-line at: http://www.romance.net Printed In U.S.A.

For Rachel. Having you made my life matter.

And for Jane Robson, whose belief in me taught me to believe in myself.

CHAPTER ONE

"Okay, boys and girls, we had Christmas in December and New Year's last week, and we said Valentine's Day comes in February, St. Patrick's Day in March and Easter will be in April. Can anyone remember what we celebrate in May?"

Four-year-old Ashley Archer put her hand up as high as possible; she couldn't wait to answer. The words almost came out of her mouth before Miss Peters called her name, even though that was against the rules. She squirmed in her seat, rising to her knees so Miss Peters would see her.

"Nathan?"

Dam it. Dumb old Nathan didn't deserve to answer this one.

"Memory Day."

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Ashley threw her hand up again. / know. I know.

"Memorial Day!" Miss Peters sounded like she just got a Christmas present. "Right!"

Right? That wasn't it.

The teacher smiled at them. Ashley settled back in her seat, although she kept her arm in the air. She liked it when Miss Peters smiled.

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

"Memorial Day is when we remember our soldiers who died fighting for our country."

Hmm. Ashley frowned. Maybe that was where her daddy had gone—maybe he was died from fighting for our country. Maybe that was why Memory Day-was special, too.

"There's another special day," Miss Peters said. "Does anyone know what it is?"

Please ask me. Ashley waved her hand, just in case Miss Peters couldn't see it up there.

"Ashley?"

"Mommy's Day." Whoosh. There. She'd got it out.

"Right!" Miss Peters smiled again. "Mother's Day."

Ashley bobbed in her seat. She'd done it. And she couldn't wait to tell Mommy. After all, Mommy's Day was the most special day in the whole wide world. 'Cause it was all about God giving Ashley to Mommy.

God was really smart, even if He was old. 'Cause He gave Ashley the best, prettiest mommy in the whole wide world. Miss Peters baby-talked some more and Ashley sank down in her seat, looking at all the other kids to make sure no one saw what she was thinking. She didn't want them to know that God gave her the best mommy, 'cause that meant theirs weren't as good and that would be a not-nice thing for them to