Attempting a grin, Jamie sat. Even at table level, her knees were hugging her chest.
"Ashley told me about Nathan," she said in a rush, determined to meet the situation head-on.
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"And I'm really sorry she's so rigid in her expectations. But I'll work with her."
"So you know she slapped him?" The compassion on Miss Peters's face was the only thing that kept Jamie from sliding right off her seat.
"Slapped him?" she squeaked out. "You mean as in hitting another little child?"
Jamie's heart caught in her throat as Miss Peters nodded.
"Is he hurt?"
"Not really," the preschool teacher said. "She hit him hard enough to leave red fingerprints on his face, but they were gone by lunchtime."
"I can't believe it!" Jamie felt light-headed, confused. Scared. "I've never hit Ashley in her life."
"I wasn't sure…"
Eyes open wide, Jamie stared at the other woman. "Never!" After the way she'd grown up, Jamie could hardly bear to speak harshly to her daughter, let alone spank her. Had never needed to. "Ashley's been a model child," she added. "Loving. Almost too good."
"I must say I was quite surprised."
"What'd you do to her?"
"Put her in time-out down in the office to begin with. That's procedure."
Jamie hated to think of her daughter sitting all alone in that dreaded corner. Could just picture Ashley's forlorn little face, her feet dangling above the ground as she swung them in her chair.
But she hated even more the thought that her daughter had struck another person.
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"Why'd she hit him?" she asked softly. Perplexed.
"Probably because he deserved it."
Miss Peters's dry reply surprised Jamie. She looked at the other woman with new respect. ' 'What did he do?"
"Nathan's not the most likable kid at the best of times," Miss Peters said. "Having met his mother, I think he comes by it naturally."
"But that doesn't give Ashley any reason to hit him."
"Of course not," the teacher agreed. "Ordinarily she just ignores him when he gets mouthy, but yesterday he was teasing her about her father."
"Her…father?"
Miss Peters nodded. "He wouldn't believe that Ashley's father was a war hero who died in battle."
Not that again.
"Apparently, the more Ashley insisted he was, the more outrageous Nathan got, until he was suggesting some pretty terrible things about Ashley's dad." The teacher went on to repeat just what those things had been.
Livid, burning up on behalf of her innocent little girl, Jamie had to take a deep breath before she spoke. ' 'How would a four-year-old kid even know to say something like that?"
The teacher shrugged. "I can only assume he learned it at home. Most likely on television, or some conversation he overheard." She paused, looking at Jamie apologetically. "When I questioned
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him about it, it was clear he had no real understanding of what he'd said."
"And Ashley?" Jamie asked, feeling the tears start deep inside. "How much do you think she understood?"
Why hadn't her daughter shared any of this with her?
Laying a hand on Jamie's, tangled together in her lap, Miss Peters squeezed gently. "Don't worry," she said. "I don't think she was aware of much more than the derision. That and the fact that he wouldn't believe her in the first place."
' 'This father thing must really be getting huge in her mind for her to have exploded like that," Jamie murmured, thinking out loud.
Miss Peters stood, then moved behind her desk. "You know how kids are…"
Not really, she didn't. "What do we do now?"
"My suggestion is to get everything out in the open so Ashley doesn't have to keep defending herself."
The teacher's words brought panic, sheer and terrible.
"Give Ashley her legitimacy instead of forcing her to fight for it…"
Jamie barely heard. The air in the room was warm, foggy, closing in on her.
"So I'd suggest, assuming it wouldn't be too painful for you, that the two of you put together some kind of presentation, you know with history, pictures—''
"What?"
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"For show and tell," Miss Peters said as though she'd just explained. Which she probably had. "We can turn it into a history lesson." She paused. Smiled. Seemed satisfied that her plan had been met with the approval she'd expected.
"Did you lose him in an overseas military action?" The teacher's eyes were brimming with compassion.
Trapped, Jamie shook her head. She had no idea what to say. What to do. How to control the panic.
But instead of raising Miss Peters's suspicions, Jamie's lack of response seemed only to confirm what the teacher already believed. That Jamie had lost her husband tragically, and that the wounds were still raw.
As Jamie left, still with no resolution, she couldn't help imagining how the conversation would have gone if she'd confessed the truth. That she'd never been married in her life. That her precious Ashley was exactly what four-year-old Nathan had so cruelly claimed. A bastard.
The night was bitterly cold. Forecasters predicted that temperatures would reach record lows for Denver—and nearby Larkspur Grove. Weather that seemed fitting as Jamie sat alone, huddled in front of a blazing fire in the living room of the quaint little house she was so proud of. Her furnace had chosen that night, of all nights, to be temperamental. A night when repairmen were overbooked and the best anyone could promise was to make it out by the next afternoon. Karen was looking after Ashley
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next door. She'd offered to put up Jamie, as well, but Jamie hadn't been at all confident in her ability to keep up appearances and opted for a cold night on the living-room floor, instead.
But at just past eight o'clock, she wondered if maybe this latest decision was another bit of idiocy. Dressed in leggings, jeans, a flannel shirt, sweatshirt and two pairs of socks, she was warm enough—as long as she didn't leave the five-foot range of the roaring flames. She'd trapped herself again.
Papers lined the hardwood floor around her and were neatly piled on the colorfully braided rug that covered most of the floor. Papers, work, that should've absorbed all of her attention. Except that they didn't. Nothing did. Except Ashley. And Ashley's father.
If the little girl only knew how much hell there'd be to pay—for both of them—if her father's name was revealed. But a four-year-old couldn't possibly know. Or understand. Not in a million years. Jamie was an adult and she didn't understand. And she'd been there.
So what was she going to do?
She'd been handling crises all her life; surely she'd find a solution to this one.
She wrapped her favorite blue blanket—soft and worn from its many washings—around her and huddled inside, searching not so much for warmth but for comfort.
Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. The blanket fell off her shoulders and puddled at her waist.
"Who on earth…" Grabbing up the blanket, she
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headed for the door, wrapping it once again securely around her. Had the furnace guy found himself with a free minute? Maybe someone else had canceled, or he'd finished a job earlier than he'd thought.
She could always hope.
On tiptoe, she peered through the peephole in her front door.
And began to tremble again. Softly.
Kyle Radcliff, handsome, confident and slightly disheveled-looking, stood on her front porch. What did he want? And what were her chances of pretending she wasn't home?
What were the chances he'd go next door and ask Karen if she knew where Jamie was? Or that Karen would see him standing out here?
As she opened the heavy wooden door, she let in a blast of cold.
"I saw your car," Kyle said before she could get out so much as a hello. Or a "go awa
y," for that matter. ' 'And the house lights were on, so I decided to stop by."
Jamie frowned. What did he want? Calculating how long Ashley had been at Karen's, the extended bath time necessary with two of them in there playing, she figured it was still a good bet that Ashley was safely tucked in bed, sound asleep. Not likely the child would come tearing across the yard in subzero temperatures to kiss her mother good-night.
"May I come in?"
Stepping back, Jamie allowed him inside. Only because she was still afraid Karen might peer out-
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side and see him standing on her doorstep. And because she was freezing.
"What do you want?" she asked through teeth that were practically chattering, though from cold or nerves she wasn't sure.
"You said you had papers for me to sign."
"I said I'd bring them to your office."
"I thought I'd save you a trip." His words were easy enough; the challenge in his warm brown eyes was not.
"That wasn't necessary." She felt ridiculous all trussed up in several outfits, with stocking feet that looked big enough to belong to a bear.
Hands in his jeans pockets, he asked, ' 'You conserving electricity?"
He was wearing a corduroy jacket much like the one he'd had on in his office that day but no overcoat. He must be as cold as she was.
"My furnace is on the fritz." Damn her chattering teeth.
"You're going to catch pneumonia if you stand around shivering much longer," he said, grinning at her. ' 'I know a motel that's only a couple of miles from here…"
His comment was so outrageously out of line, the laughter in his eyes so blatant, Jamie couldn't help but smile right back at him. ' 'I have a perfectly good fire going in the next room," she told him. "I didn't want to leave in case the repair guy has a chance to get here any earlier than tomorrow afternoon."
Kyle rocked back and forth on his feet, his jeans fitting his lean legs to perfection, as he watched her.
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' 'What?'' she asked, exasperated at the half grin lifting the corners of his mouth. What was it about this man that made him so different from any other man she'd ever known? She'd certainly known enough of them.
"I'm just wondering how long it's going to take you to work up the courage to invite me to that fire."
"I'm not intending to invite you at all." Jamie couldn't remember if Ashley had left any toys lying around the living room. "I-I'll just get the forms for you," she stammered. "Wait right here."
Hurrying back to her office, Jamie stopped only long enough to close Ashley's bedroom door. She was probably being irrational, but she didn't want him touching Ashley's life in any way. Not even by knowing of her existence.
He was adding a log to the fire when she returned to the living room. His thick leather driving gloves lay on top of the mantel.
"I heard the fire hiss and checked to make sure a log hadn't fallen. Could've been dangerous," he said, brushing his hands together as he stepped back from the fire.
Her favorite picture of Ashley—the one where her two-year-old chubby cheeks were surrounded by a halo of riotous curls—was on the mantel. The little girl was wearing her most impish grin.
"Must be a relative," Kyle said, following her gaze. "She looks like you."
Her throat was so tight she couldn't have spoken if she'd had to save her life. Jamie nodded.
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"Looks too young to be a sister," he observed. "She your niece?"
She'd had sex with this man. Which made it almost impossible to understand why she still found him so damned attractive.
He seemed not to notice her silence as his gaze moved slowly around the room. Jamie's accompanied it. And landed on the pile of children's books under the coffee table at exactly the same time. Her eyes reached the baby doll tucked so carefully into the rocker before his. But only just.
It didn't take him long to put two and two together, college professor that he was.
"She's yours."
She'd always thought that when the world came to an end, it would do so with a lot of clanging noises and blurs of action. But then, that would be the whole world ending; this was only hers.
Kyle's gaze took another stroll around the room before coming back to rest on her.
"You have a daughter."
Crushing his envelope of papers between her fists, Jamie nodded again. He knows nothing. He knows nothing…
She repeated the words, like a catchy tune, over and over in her mind.
Relentless, watching her with his hard brown stare, he finally spoke. "You said you weren't married."
"I'm not."
"Where's her father?"
"Gone."
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"You loved him?"
"I thought I did."
He moved closer to the photo on the mantel, studying it—and her. "She must be about two."
And because he'd just given her an out, because she was desperate and didn't know what else to do, Jamie stood there, mute. Ashley had been two in that picture.
Her knees almost collapsed as he approached, his eyes warmer now. He reached out and brushed her cheek. "She looks very much like you—beautiful."
"Thank you." She forced herself not to flinch from his touch. Nor to press her face into it. She had to stay calm, satisfy his curiosity and get rid of him. Once and for all.
Glancing from the blanket she still clutched around her, to the cold hallway behind her, he said, "Where is she?"
"Away for the night." With the irrational thought that he might ask to see Ashley if he knew she was sleeping right next door, she scrambled for something else to say. "Visiting friends," she added.
He nodded, apparently satisfied, and Jamie relaxed just a little, giving herself a huge, if imaginary, pat on the back for an acting ability she'd forgotten she possessed.
"Here." She shoved the crumpled envelope at him. "Your completed forms."
If he thought it odd to have his accountant handing him his tax forms in a less-than-pristine condition, he was gentleman enough not to say so.
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He also didn't seem particularly interested in opening the manila envelope to examine them.
"I've x'd all the places you need to sign. If you have any questions just call."
He continued to stand there, assessing her. Making her nervous as hell.
"I'll be happy to mail them for you as soon as they're ready."
"Have dinner with me."
"I already ate."
"Won't you have to do so again sometime?"
Of course. In the morning. And at noon. And tomorrow night. With Ashley. "I don't date."
His eyes narrowed. "He burned you that badly?"
She couldn't have this conversation. Not with him. "I have different priorities now."
"You're no longer a woman?"
"I don't have to date to be a woman."
"Ah," he said, running his hand lightly through her hair. "But you're forgetting that I know how passionate you really are."
"That was a long time ago."
"Not so long, Jamie." The pad of his thumb brushed her lip. "See?" he asked, meeting her eyes with his own. "You still tremble for me."
"No, I don't." She pulled away from him. He couldn't be right. She couldn't let him be right. She had to remember the money. "I'm just cold."
"One dinner, Jamie," he said softly, all teasing gone. "One meal together, and if we don't find the conversation as stimulating as it was five years ago,
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if we find that we are indeed two different people now, then I won't bother you again."
"Not ever?" she whispered. Dear God, could she do it? Could she control her odd connection with this man for one evening?
"Never," he said. "You have my word."
Thinking of the little girl tucked securely in bed next door, of her daughter's quest to know her father, Jamie
had no choice but to do whatever she had to do to protect Ashley's future. Including going to dinner with the one man who'd made her forget all the rules. Who'd made her forget, for a few short hours, that she was a woman men paid to take to bed, not a woman they gave their hearts to.
"How about Friday?" she whispered.
CHAPTER SIX
Over the years Jamie had perfected the art of coping. Of shutting down enough of her mind to get her through one day after another. Surviving. And so it was the rest of that week. She got through each day by concentrating on small moments, not big pictures.
The repairman came to fix her furnace, to the tune of only a couple of hundred dollars instead of the many hundreds she'd envisioned. That was a good thing. A small moment that got her through Wednesday.
On Wednesday night, after Ashley's bath and her bedtime story, Jamie gathered her daughter on her lap and plopped down on the floor beside Ashley's bed.
"We need to talk, punkin," she said softly. How to correct her child while at the same time making sure she understood that she wasn't to blame? To be honest with her without telling her the truth?
"What, Mommy?" Ashley's thumb went straight to her mouth.
"I guess most of the other kids at school have daddies, huh?"
Leaning sideways to look at Jamie with big ear-
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nest eyes, Ashley pulled her thumb from her mouth and shook her head. "No. Brent doesn't. And neither do Debbie and Dana. They're twins."
Jamie knew all about the identical twins in Ashley's class. They had fascinated Ashley and Kayla since the twins had first joined their class the previous October.
' 'And do you know where their daddies are?''
Slumping back against Jamie, Ashley spoke around the thumb once again in her mouth. "Brent's daddy lives in Cali…Cali…"
"California?"
Ashley nodded. "Mmm-hmm."
"And what about Debbie and Dana? Where's their daddy?"
' 'Their mommy divorced him. But he still comes to school and gets them sometimes. He's really tall. Kayla says he's big enough for his head to touch the ceiling, but I don't think so. Men can't get big enough to touch the ceiling, can they, Mommy?"
Her Secret, His Child: A Little Secret Page 6