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

Spying an unopened box across the kitchen, he grabbed his razor knife and headed over. The box was full of files. Surely the ones he needed were in there. Pulling off his glasses and tossing them on the counter, he crouched down to investigate.

"Oh, good, there you are," he said a few minutes later as he opened what was probably his twentieth manila folder to reveal the extra set of lesson plans he'd worked up for the semester. He'd had to turn in the set he'd brought with him in his briefcase and had forgotten to make a copy first. At least now he'd be spared the relatively humiliating experience of having to go ask the department secretary for a copy.

The doorbell rang just after eight. He'd finally found the travel receipts Jamie had requested—at the bottom of a box of socks and skivvies. They'd all been in a suitcase together, left over from his visit to New England, where he'd visited the homes and graves of most of his idols—Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Louisa May Alcott.

"This isn't late," he said as he opened the door. He had to say something. Drooling over his reluctant accountant probably wasn't wise.

She shrugged her beautifully slim shoulders. "I finished earlier than I thought."

And what he thought was that she hadn't had anything to do that night to begin with. That she'd been

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making excuses. Which made him all the more curious. And determined.

"Here's my office, such as it is." He directed her to the little room off the entryway. His desk was there because he'd purchased a new one. And a sturdy box he was using as a chair. The filing cabinets hadn't made it yet.

"What on earth is in all those folders?" she asked, staring at the piles surrounding the room.

"Stuff." Kyle shrugged. He still hadn't found his folder of photos from Walden Pond. Maybe they were in the sock and skivvies box, too.

"So, you have the receipts?" she asked, standing just inside the door of his office.

Handing her the manila folder he'd unearthed, Kyle said, "You'd better take a glance at those, make sure everything you need is there."

And while she looked, he looked, too. Dressed in a pair of loose-fitting slacks and an equally loose cotton blouse, she could have been trying to hide her glorious body. But unfortunately Kyle found her modest clothes more of a turn-on than the form-fitting skimpy red dress she'd worn the night he met her.

She could wear a tent, and he'd be turned on. He knew what secrets the voluminous clothes hid. Knew them intimately. Every inch. Every taste. Every smell…

' 'These are all plane tickets and hotel receipts, but what about mileage, parking and meals?" she asked, frowning as she once again thumbed through the slips of paper.

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Meal receipts? Who saved meal receipts? And where would he save them? His organizer was already bursting at the seams. "Surely they aren't going to amount to enough to matter."

' 'Of course they will." She glanced up—and then quickly back down. "They're one-hundred percent deductible as a business expense."

"What happens if I don't have them?"

"We can claim up to a certain amount without them. You lose the rest."

Her expression was so serious he couldn't help grinning. "Gosh, and I'm such a big eater, too."

Jamie's face was straight as she looked back up at him, taking him in from the glasses across the bridge of his nose to his jeans and bare feet. "I wouldn't know," she finally said.

"You would have, though, if you'd hung around long enough to find out," he said softly. He'd promised himself to move slowly, to stay away from accusation.

But patience wasn't one of his strong suits.

"Hung around?" Her blue eyes were confused. "Where?"

"In the hotel room."

Head bowed, she studied the receipts she held. "I did hang around. All the way till morning."

"Dawn was more like it."

"It was long enough." She raised a hand to lift the hair off her shoulders. He thought her fingers were shaking. "When I woke up, you were gone."

"Only to get breakfast." Kyle took her hand, held it as he stepped behind her. ' 'I came back with two

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sacks of goodies and had no one to share them with."

She was trembling. He could feel it as she turned slowly to face him. "You came back?"

Gazing down into the only pair of eyes that had ever taken his breath away, he nodded. She thought he'd abandoned her? Was that why she'd run away? Was that all the past five years had been about?

"Why'd you come back?" she asked.

"You had me under your spell."

"The sex was good."

So she'd felt it, too! Kyle breathed a huge sigh of relief. He'd nearly driven himself crazy the past twenty-four hours wondering what he'd done wrong, what he'd done to scare her away.

He moved closer to her, rubbing his thighs against hers. "The sex was great."

"What about electric and phone bills?"

"What?" His body was on fire, his head filled with visions of…

She pulled away from him, flinging out her arm to encompass the room, her voice cold. "You have a home office. Electricity and phone are deductible for that portion of your home."

Kyle would have said goodbye and good riddance then and there if he hadn't noticed the slight trembling at the corners of her lips. She wanted to pretend that what they'd shared wasn't special. That it meant nothing. But it was; it did. Deny it all she wanted, she still felt the connection.

Somehow, somewhere, he had to come up with the patience to wait for her to be as happy about

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that fact as he was. But first, he was going to find out why she was so adamantly against taking up where they'd left off. She'd given herself to him that night five years before. Not just her body, but the person she was inside.

Their conversation had been unusually frank. He'd attended Tom Webber's