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

date a man except for love. Because she was never going to return to the life she'd known. She'd had no choice then. But she had a choice now. And she'd rather die than live one minute of that life again.

Damn Tom Webber and his generosity. Damn his friends. Damn his lies, his choices, the choices he'd left her. Damn him for taking her youth, her innocence, and making her a whore without her even knowing what he was doing. But most of all, damn him for making it so easy to fall into a life she'd never wanted. For making it almost impossible, and completely stupid, for her to walk away.

Minutes later, Kyle's knock on the door reverberated through her small house. Jamie wasn't sure what he'd see as she opened her door to him. She'd been unable to meet her reflection in the mirror before she'd left the bedroom, couldn't stand to see the woman who would've been staring back at her.

The money. She just had to remember that last hateful wad of bills. They'd changed her life forever.

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TARA TAYLOR QUINN

as hell at himself. "I was grading papers and lost track of the time."

"Good papers?"

Kyle shrugged. "Thought-provoking," he said, remembering that last one. It had had him so engrossed he'd never even heard the alarm on his watch go off to tell him it was time to get showered. "Not that I agree with all of them."

"And do your students lose points for daring to have alternative opinions?"

"Nope." Kyle grinned at her. "Alternative opinions are always graciously accepted."

"Always?"

"As long as they have a valid argument to back them up."

"Nice car," she said, admiring his metallic-blue Ford Thunderbird.

"Thanks." Odd, as forcefully as she affected him, there were so many things she didn't know. Like the fact that he had a passion for Thunderbirds. Owned three of them. From three different decades. He'd brought the brand-new one tonight. For her. Had wanted her to travel in luxury as well as style.

"Where's your daughter?"

She shot him a startled glance, almost as though she'd forgotten he knew about the child, and then seemed to relax a bit.

"Actually, she's spending the night next door," she said, climbing into the T-Bird.

Kyle looked at the two-story next to Jamie's smaller house. ' 'Friends of yours?''

She waited until he'd rounded the car and gotten

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

in. "Good friends," she said then. "They have a daughter Ashley's age."

"Ashley," he said, trying out the name. Liked it. "That's your daughter's name?"

A little jolt again, barely perceptible except that Kyle was in tune to every breath she took. "Yes," she said. "Ashley Mariah."

"It's a nice name."

He wanted to ask about the child's father. To know if he was the reason Jamie had erected such walls around herself.

And he would. When he was more certain she'd answer him.

"So what's your aversion to compliments?" He'd chosen the restaurant carefully. One of his favorite places, Gulliver's not only served superb steak but offered warmth and intimacy. Each table was set off in its own alcove, and every alcove gave the appearance of being its own private den—complete with bookshelves built into the walls.

"I don't have an aversion to compliments." She was smiling, but the smile didn't reach her eyes, and her eyes didn't quite meet his.

"Sure you do." Kyle grinned at her across their table for two.

He expected her to brush him off, as was her wont, and was surprised when she suddenly met his gaze head-on.

"I guess I'd just rather people appreciate me, inside," she said. "The person they can't see."

"He really did a number on you, didn't he?"

TARA TAYLOR QUINN

"Who?" She withdrew from him again.

"Ashley's father."

"No!" She looked around the room, at the other tables, a waiter passing by. "What do you know about him?''

"Absolutely nothing," he admitted. "But I can't help wondering if maybe he isn't at least part of the reason I'm having to scale mountains to find the woman I spent such an incredible night with five years ago."

She fiddled with the straw in the diet soda she'd ordered. "He has nothing to do with it."

The waiter approached, pad in hand, ready to take their dinner order, Kyle asked him to come back later. "So you do at least admit I'm having to scale mountains."

Jamie frowned at him, not at all pleased that she'd fallen into his trap, but her shrug acknowledged that she had indeed fallen. For one brief second, as their eyes met, Kyle felt a spark of the nonverbal connection he'd shared with her across the crowded, noisy room the night of his mother's death.

"If it's not him, what is it?" he asked softly.

Her eyes revealed nothing. "You really want to know?"

More than anything. He inclined his head.

"The money." She held his gaze for a second longer, then glanced down, drawing shapes on the white linen tablecloth with her finger.

The money? What? He didn't make enough of it? She'd just done his taxes. She knew exactly what he was worth…

HER SECRET, HIS CHILD

A lot.

"The money," he finally repeated, more confused than ever.

"Sure, it might have been expected, but the way you just left it there, without a word…" Her voice trailed off and Kyle just stared at her.

Her face was flushed, a muscle twitching at one corner of her mouth. She was really upset.

And he was completely lost.

"I'm sorry, Jamie." She glanced up then, as if the apology meant much more to her than he'd intended. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're telling me you aren't the one who put the wad of bills on my dress?" she asked sarcastically. "I know—housekeeping came in before dawn and left me a tip to clean the room myself, right?"

"The dress!" When he'd gotten up that next morning, after an embarrassing amount of time staring at the woman asleep in his bed, reliving the incredible hours he'd spent with her there, he'd noticed the dress he'd ruined the night before when he'd spilled champagne on it.

"I see you