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His Ten-Year-Old Secret
Donna Clayton


FabulousFathersTHE BONDS OF PARENTHOODHer child was alive! For ten years Tess had believed her little girl was lost to her forever. Then an unexpected inheritance led the lovely doctor back home…to the man she'd always loved. There she discovered her beloved Dylan was a bachelor father, and the child he was raising was their own daughter!Dylan had vowed to protect and cherish his child, yet he opened their lives to let Tess in. But this dedicated father was no longer the young lover Tess remembered. Could she uncover the tender man she had never forgotten, and convince him to take a chance on their newly formed family, and their own true love?…?ThisFabulous Fatherhad ten years of loving to catch up on!







What had Tess expected, he wondered A baby? (#u07959333-3b36-5adf-9734-15a4925126c4)Letter to Reader (#u962b33f2-8f63-5867-b016-f0e52b610142)Title Page (#u1a994d0f-1e77-5d5b-bc4b-ab1f6d6895fc)Dedication (#u63d9c30f-bd0c-5b2b-8568-bac29d5f0c97)About the Author (#uce7dbcd9-9139-5366-a8e1-e21495f79376)Prologue (#u496a2193-2c42-5f77-b872-6c0f74546083)Chapter One (#u107a87ba-84b9-5734-92d8-9826f5207d7b)Chapter Two (#ueab53bd5-fe1e-5688-91ad-d2f3229edf80)Chapter Three (#ucbf07238-f263-59b6-b418-a7cd959b35d6)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


What had Tess expected, he wondered A baby?

Since she was coming into town ten years after the child’s birth, of course their daughter was going to be all grown up. Why did Tess look so astounded?

When Tess lifted her gaze to his, it was filled with silent, thunderous questions Dylan found quite bewildering. Her attention clamped once again on the daughter, she uttered a soft, breathy “Oh, my,” turned and raced out the door.

“Wow,” Erin said to him. “Who was that, Dad?”

Dylan didn’t answer right away. Not because he meant to ignore his daughter’s query, but because he didn’t know what to say.

“That,” he said at last with a slow, measured reluctance, “was your mother....”


Dear Reader,

In May 2000 Silhouette Romance will commemorate its twentieth anniversary! This line has always celebrated the essence of true love in a manner that blends classic themes and the challenges of romance in today’s world into a reassuring, fulfilling novel. From the enchantment of first love to the wonder of second chance, a Silhouette Romance novel demonstrates the power of genuine emotion and the breathless connection that develops between a man and a woman as they discover each other. And this month’s stellar selections are quintessential Silhouette Romance stories!

If you’ve been following LOVING THE BOSS, you’ll be amazed when mysterious Rex Barrington III is unmasked in I Married the Boss! by Laura Anthony. In this month’s FABULOUS FATHERS offering by Donna Clayton, a woman discovers His Ten-Year-Old Secret. And opposites attract in The Rancher and the Heiress, the third of Susan Meier’s TEXAS FAMILY TIES miniseries.

WRANGLERS & LACE returns with Julianna Morris’s The Marriage Stampede. In this appealing story, a cowgirl butts heads—and hearts—with a bachelor bent on staying that way. Sally Carleen unveils the first book in her exciting duo ON THE WAY TO A WEDDING... with the tale of a twin mistaken for an M.D.’s Bride in Waiting! It’s both a blessing and a dilemma for a single mother when she’s confronted with an amnesiac Husband Found, this month’s FAMILY MATTERS title by Martha Shields.

Enjoy the timeless power of Romance this month, and every month-you won’t be disappointed!






Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3




His Ten-Year-Old Secret

Donna Clayton







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


With love to my brother-in-law,

Chip Fasano:

See, Chip, mechanics make great heroes! And many thanks to Terry S. Greer,

the hot-rod information man.


DONNA CLAYTON

is proud to be a recipient of the Holt Medallion, an award honoring outstanding literary talent, for her Silhouette Romance novel Wife for a While. And seeing her work appear on the Waldenbooks Series bestsellers list has given her a great deal of joy and satisfaction.

Reading is one of Donna’s favorite ways to while away a rainy afternoon. She loves to hike, too. Another hobby added to her list of fun things to do is traveling. She fell in love with Europe during her first trip abroad recently, and plans to return often. Oh, and Donna still collects cookbooks, but as her writing career grows, she finds herself using them less and less.

Donna loves to hear from her readers. Please write to her in care of Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017.







Dear Erin,

Please forgive your old dad for being sappy, but I need to tell you that-even with your grimy knees and elbows, and your ever-present baseball cap—I couldn’t have been blessed with a more charming, beautiful and loving daughter. For almost ten years now, you and I have been on our own. We’ve had some lean times, you and I, but so far we’ve made it through. And I wouldn’t change a day of the past.

I’m telling you all this for a reason. Your mom is back in town, and our lives are about to change forever. Tess Galloway had an unforgettable effect on my life once. And there’s a pretty good chance that’s not going to change this time around. But now you’re involved. So I’m not afraid to tell you, I’m more than a little nervous about her arrival in Pine Meadow.

But the fact that your mom is here and eager to meet you has had me thinking about the kind of dad I’ve been. You and I tinkered with car engines when we should have been finding a teacher for piano lessons or visiting fancy museums. I may not have risen as far in the world as some people thought I should, I may only be a mechanic, but I’m your dad. I’ll always be your dad. And I’ll always love you with all my heart.

Love,

Dad


Prologue

She simply could not put off this chore any longer. Tess Galloway stood at the threshold of her father’s bedroom door. The late-afternoon sun slanted golden through the window, casting streaks of light across the worn, brown rug. Absently Tess worried her bottom lip between her teeth and went inside.

The air still held a whispery trace of familiar spicy aftershave. Barely noticeable after all these weeks, the scent offered her a vague sense of comfort as she inhaled it deeply into her lungs, yet her heart pinched in her chest with painful longing.

The dark-stained pine of the bed’s footboard was scarred and dull with age, the mattress sagging in the middle. Tess grinned gently at the memory of how her father had allowed her an occasional, albeit short, bedjumping session when she’d been a little girl. She grazed her fingertips lightly across the cotton spread.

Two small steps had her standing in front of his bureau, and without even picking up the pipe that rested there, Tess detected the faint aroma of tobacco. The rich fragrance kindled feelings of deep love and total security the likes of which she would never again experience.

“Daddy,” Tess whispered to the empty room. Her eyes stung as unexpected tears shattered her sight into glittering shards. “Oh, how I miss you.”

A month had passed since Harry Galloway’s funeral. For weeks Tess had found one excuse after another to keep from sorting through his belongings, packing up his clothes, cleaning out his bedroom.

But the chill of fall was in the air and close on its heels would be winter. She was certain there was someone in need of warm clothing. Her father’s gray wool overcoat might be a bit frayed at the cuffs, but it would certainly keep someone toasty when the temperatures dipped low. And his olive mackintosh was just as rain repellent as ever. There were several suits. Trousers and a sport coat or two. Dress shirts and ties. Not to mention shoes. Three pair to be exact, all in good condition, seeing as how her father worked all his life in one shoe repair shop or another. It would be a sin to let such serviceable clothing hang in the closet, sit in the drawers, unused.

Tess dashed a tear trail from her cheek with the back of her hand. “This simply must be done,” she told herself, giving the words an insistent inflection. “Today. ”

The topmost bureau drawer slid open and Tess dived into it with both hands, scooping out paired socks that had been rolled into balls and stragglers that had no mate but that her father hadn’t been able to get rid of. There were neatly folded handkerchiefs, at least a dozen of them, one of which her dad slid into his back pocket every day. Harry Galloway would never have been caught without his trusty handkerchief. One never knew when one’s glasses would need a good cleaning, or a park bench brushed off, or a little girl’s nose wiped...

Again, Tess felt an achy spasm shoot through her chest.

“We’re thick as thieves, me and you, Tessie.” She could almost hear his soft, gentle voice as he’d described their close and loving relationship. Her dad had been an emotional man. Yes, he had.

She sniffed back another tear. “Stop, darn it,” she chastised herself aloud.

Aggravated with herself, Tess pulled the second drawer completely free and dumped its contents onto the bed. V-necked T-shirts and cotton boxers tumbled into a pile. The third drawer held polo shirts and sweaters. One shabby-looking sweatshirt caught her eye and she picked it up. The pilled fabric was soft against her cheek and she remembered this was her father’s favorite. The one he wore to work around the house. She set it aside. A cherished keepsake.

She found several pairs of shorts in the fourth drawer, and as she tossed them into the pile, she noticed they were threadbare in places. How few of them there were wasn’t lost on her, either. Tess had been aware that her father had gone without for her. Boy, had she been aware.

He’d worked so hard. Had sacrificed so much. Just so she could earn the title of Dr. Tess Galloway. His greatest wish had been to provide her with a college and medical school education free from the strangling claws of bank loans. For several years he’d been successful, paying for her tuition and books with his meager salary, but not without a great deal of personal sacrifice. Because of Tess, Harry Galloway never tool a vacation, never bought a new car and just simply made do with what he had or could acquire secondhand.

Not wanting the pile of her father’s clothing to become so large it rolled to the floor, she stopped clearing out drawers and began to gently, lovingly tuck the clothing into a large plastic bag.

Her protests against all his sacrifice had fallen on deaf ears. Harry hadn’t allowed Tess to work anything more than a part-time job all through her college years.

But as the tuition increased, and his salary hadn’t, Harry was forced to allow Tess to seek out education loans through the University of Connecticut; however, he’d done everything he could to keep those debts to a minimum.

Tess had just finished her medical residency and had accepted a partnership in a large family practice. Her loans were almost miniscule compared to some of her graduating peers, and she was in a much better position than they would be for years to come. All due to her father’s ceaseless efforts to pay the tuition bills, all due to his endless determination to set aside his own needs to provide for those of his daughter.

Once the bed was clear, she turned back to the bureau and bent to pull out the final drawer. A thought struck her with such startling suddenness that her spine straightened almost of its own accord, and she rested her hand on the bureau top.

With the smell of her father’s pipe tobacco wafting around her, she realized that with all his making do, with all his self-sacrifice, he’d never once over the years made her feel the least bit guilty. He’d never made one comment to make her feel beholden. Never said a word meant to incite her need to feel obligated or indebted to him. He’d never once brought up her mistakes of the past. He’d simply given to her. He’d simply loved her. Unselfishly. Unconditionally.

He’d been such a kind, caring, loving parent.

With a sigh, Tess returned to the task at hand. She tugged the final, bottommost drawer from its slot and twisted toward the bed. Sweatpants and heavy work trousers fell out along with something that made a heavy clunk as it bounced onto the mattress.

Curiosity knit her brow as she brushed aside one leg of a pair of navy sweatpants to see the object more clearly.

It was a box. A tin box. A tad smaller than a shoe box. The blue paint had chipped away in several places allowing rust to eat at the metal.

The edge of the mattress depressed as Tess sat down. She picked up the box, acutely aware of the coolness of its surface. The latch caught, and for a moment she thought the box was locked. But the latch finally gave, and the lid sprang free.

Envelopes, a tight bundle of them, were crammed in the tight space. A rubber band secured them togetter. These weren’t regular white letter envelopes. They looked official. No, they looked like oversize, tan business envelopes. And they were unopened. Tess had to strain to pry them out of the cramped space. There looked to be over a hundred of them. However, before she was able to examine them too closely, her attention was caught by the small book resting in the bottom of the box. The tiny book’s rough, black cover was reminiscent of the old register books banks gave out before the age of computerized accounts. Utter bewilderment had her head shaking back and forth as she wondered what in the world she’d discovered.

After setting the envelopes aside, Tess picked up the bankbook, turned it over and her mouth opened in surprise, but no sound came forth.

Minster Savings And Loan, Pine Meadow, NJ.

Walloped with an overwhelming wave of weakness, she was relieved to be sitting because her whole body felt suddenly shaky. That name. Minster. It hadn’t been mentioned between her and her father in...years.

Seldom did Tess allow herself to even think it, because doing so only stirred up memories. Haunting memories of a love she’d felt so strongly the mere thought of it was enough to swallow her whole. But when she did indulge herself, when she did permit herself to get lost in remembering, she did so only in the very deepest part of the night, when there was no chance of her reminiscence being discovered.

However, the Minster name also conjured in her an ache. A terrible ache caused by a loss so complete it had left a hole in her life that would never be filled.

With well-practiced determination, she shoved the tormenting memory aside. It was either that, or risk getting completely caught up in the past.

She focused on the tin box instead. What did it . mean, this old account book? These unopened bank statements?

Her fingers trembled as she cracked open the spine of the small black book. The balance scrawled on the yellowed page made her gasp aloud.


Chapter One

“Sounds like Ol’ Lady Warrington let that hairy rat she calls a dog crawl up into this engine.”

Dylan Minster listened intently to the rough idle of the sweet, old Cadillac, his eyes riveted to the running engine.

“The first thing we need to do,” he said over the engine noise, “is pop off the distributor cap. Make sure it’s clean. No cracks.”

His daughter knew this already, he was sure. She was nearly ten years old now, and she’d been working on cars with him since she was a babe in diapers. But it never hurt to reiterate.

“Hand me a flathead screwdriver, Erin.”

The tool that was slapped into his palm didn’t have a flat, smooth head, but the crisscrossed one of a Phillips. He grinned. He had Erin now. This mistake was downright silly and deserved at least an hour’s worth of teasing. And he’d gladly oblige.

“You’re in for it now,” he said. But when he swung around expecting to see Erin, he came face-to-face with his stem-eyed mother.

When she offered him no greeting, he said, “Hi, Ma. How are you?”

“First of all,” she told him, “I take offense for poor Edith Warrington. She is not an old lady...”

“Aww, now.” He grinned, hoping to soften her obvious disapproval. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

“And Corky is a lovely little long-haired terrier,” she went on. “Not ‘a hairy rat.’ Edith is a wonderful friend. And she loves that dog like a baby. If she ever heard you talk like that—”

“She’s not going to hear me talk like that, Ma,” Dylan assured his mother.

“The only reason Edith patronizes your shop—” her gaze skirted loathsomely around the cluttered bay “—is because you are my son, and—”

“I know, Ma.” Dylan’s smile dissolved. His mother had a way of making that happen quite often. “And I appreciate the business your name brings me.”

“It’s your name, too.”

If only you’d do something with it. Her blatant motherly advice echoed unspoken in the air. He chose to ignore it.

Helen Minster tipped up her chin. And Dylan got the distinct impression that, now that she’d had her say, the subject was closed. He sighed.

“So what brings you out this afternoon?” he asked.

He watched his mother glance over her shoulder at her granddaughter who sat behind the steering wheel of Edith Warrington’s old Caddy.

She turned back to face him. “Why isn’t missy there in school?”

“Her name’s Erin, Ma,” he said quietly.

“Look at her,” Helen continued. “She’s filthy. Her hair’s a mess. Her fingernails are greasy. And she’s—”

“Ma.” His voice was clipped just enough to make her stop. “Let’s talk about this in my office.” Giving his daughter a quick glance, he said, “Cut the engine, hon. I’ll be right back.”

He stalked off toward the side door leading to his office, making every effort to dampen the burning embers of his anger.

Dylan was well aware of the fact that he was his mother’s worst and only disappointment. That he was no comparison to his brother and sister, both shining examples of the education, polish and success that Minster money could buy. And because he knew all these things, took full responsibility for them, he tried hard to be patient with her.

Flipping on the light in his small office, Dylan felt a self-conscious tweak as he looked around at the shabby furniture. The sorry excuse he called a desk was beat-up, the heavy gray metal dented and scratched. The couch was propped up on one corner by a red brick. And the leather seat of his desk chair was cracked in several places.

Funny how he never seemed to notice how neglected his surroundings were until his mother came to visit. Which, thankfully, was only on rare occasions.

“Have a seat,” he told her, rounding his desk and easing himself down onto his chair.

She eyed the couch distastefully. “I don’t mind standing, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” He snatched up a pen from the desktop, squeezing it between his thumb and index finger. “Erin had a headache this morning,” he explained. “She came to work with me and took a nap in my office. She woke up feeling better, so she was helping me out in the shop.”

“Well, when she woke up feeling better,” his mother stated, “you should have taken her to school.”

“Ma—” Dylan’s shoulder sagged with the effort of this justification, but he was so used to this kind of interrogation that he barely noticed. “It’s after two o’clock. She’d have been in school an hour.” Then a thought occurred to him. “How did you know Erin wasn’t in school today?”

Helen Minster’s lips pursed for an instant. Then she said, “If you must know, I asked the school secretary to call me if Erin was absent.”

Patience, Dylan reminded himself. He asked softly, “Why would you do a thing like that?”

“Dylan, this is a new school year. Erin must start off on the right foot.” She shifted the position of the purse handle that hung on her forearm. “I don’t know why you won’t allow me to send the child to boarding school. I sent you to boarding school.” She paused, as if she had second thoughts about the statement, eyeing him pointedly.

And just look what you did with the education I provided for you.

His mother’s accusation couldn’t have been clearer if she’d said it out loud.

Then she added, “As well as your brother and sister.”

“Public school is fine for Erin, Ma,” he told her. “All Erin’s friends attend the school here in Pine Meadow. She’d be miserable if she had to go to a new school. She’s getting a fine education right where she is.”

He didn’t want his daughter feeling as lonely and out of place as he had felt as a youngster being shipped off to boarding school. He hated every moment he’d been away from Pine Meadow and his friends and family. However, he’d bent to his mother’s will because as a child he’d had no other choice. Until high school, anyway, when he’d discovered that a threatened expulsion due to fistfighting with his classmates was the perfect way to force her to let him attend school in his hometown.

“Yes,” his mother said, “and she’s getting that education along with every piece of riffraff Pine Meadow has to offer.”

“You know my views on that subject,” Dylan said wearily. “Erin’s going to be dealing with all kinds of people as an adult. Black, white, yellow, brown, rich and poor. It’ll do her good to learn to get along with everyone while she’s a kid.”

“Humph, maybe.” Helen Minster was obviously unconvinced. Then her eyes lit with a new attack. “But boarding school would get her away from this place. And it’s this grease pit I most want to get her away from. She should be taking piano lessons, or ballet lessons. She should be reading Black Beauty and Little Women. That child should be wearing lacy dresses and patent leather shoes.”

She stopped suddenly, hesitating long enough to take a deep breath, get herself under control

“Dylan, that child is soon going to be ten years old. She’s a young lady now. She shouldn’t be tinkering underneath the hood of a car, her hands filthy with grease. This...this mechanic shop—” she said the two words as if they were knives that stabbed her “—isn’t any place for a young lady. It isn’t right that you’re allowing Erin to follow you around like some oily little monkey whose only goal in life is to hand her daddy a screwdriver or a socket wrench.”

Up until now, he’d been resting his chin on his fist. But the moment his mother had called his daughter a greasy primate, he’d had to clamp his fingers over his mouth, his thumb planted firmly under his jaw to keep from growling at her to get the hell out of his office, out of his shop.

She’s only trying to help, he chanted in his head. She only wants what’s best for her granddaughter.

He looked out the window that separated his office from the three work bays that made up the shop. Erin had her head stuck under the hood of the car parked in the first bay. The bill of her baseball cap was twisted to the back of her head. Her elbows and knees were nut brown with grime, her denim shorts and cotton top smeared and grubby as well. His heart hitched in his chest. That little girl was his whole life. His whole world.

“That child needs some feminine influence,” Helen said. “And if she doesn’t get it soon, it’s going to be too late. You mark my words.”

Too late for what? Dylan was too preoccupied to ask. He was too busy wondering if his mother might be right. Was he doing Erin a great disservice by allowing her to spend time at the shop? Should he be chauffeuring her around to piano lessons and ballet recitals rather than teaching her how to change an engine’s spark plugs and fuel filter?

“I think you ought to let Erin move in with me,” Helen said.

His knee-jerk reaction was to say, “No way.” But the response fell on deaf ears.

“I can teach her to be a proper young lady,” his mother argued. “You do want her to grow up into a woman who can hold her head up in this town, don’t you? You do want her to be proud of who she is? Do you think that’s going to happen when she spends most of her life—” she looked around again, disdain evident in every muscle of her face “—hanging around Dylan’s Auto Repair?”

Usually he wasn’t at all fazed by the disgust his mother showed when she spoke the name of his business. Usually he allowed her disappointment in him to roll off him like water off a rain slicker. Usually. But today it struck him—like a forceful, unexpected poky in the gut with a tire iron.

“You think about it,” his mother said. “And when you do, I want you to consider long and hard what’s best for Erin. Not what’s best for you.”

She opened the door of his office then, and carefully picked her way through the dirty clutter of car parts toward the big open door of the garage bay, taking care not to allow the hem of her yellow dress to become soiled. Helen Minster called a curt goodbye to her granddaughter and then disappeared from his view.

Almost immediately, Erin was standing in the threshold of his office. “You okay, Dad?”

He nodded. “Sure, hon,” he told her. “Give me a few minutes, okay?”

She smiled and then went back to fiddling with the Caddy’s engine.

Dylan sat at his desk for a long time, studying her. Tendrils of wavy red hair escaped from under the cap on her head. Concentration creased her brow as she searched in the large metal box for some tool or other.

The love he felt for that little girl out there was so great it actually made his chest ache. And he found it more than a little worrisome to think that letting her hang out here at the shop with him might be harming her in some way.

Okay, he thought, so we have a problem. His daughter’s femininity needed a little...fine-tuning. Hell, he told himself, tell the truth, Erin’s feminine side needed a complete overhaul!

As much as he hated to admit it, his mother was probably right. Erin should be reading great works of literature. She should be involved in culturally enriching activities. And there couldn’t possibly be a less likely place for a little girl to find polish and refinement than an auto repair shop.

He stroked his chin over and over between his index finger and thumb as his mind churned. Boarding school was out of the question in his mind. But was the solution packing Erin off to live in Minster House with his mother?

“Over my dead body,” he whispered too low for anyone but himself to hear.

Pine Meadow certainly hadn’t changed much in the ten years she’d been away, Tess mused as she drove through town. Certainly, the strip mall on the main thoroughfare was new, or at least new to her, as the shops had looked well established when she’d passed by them. But the First Methodist Church looked the same as ever. As did the supermarket on the corner of Main and North Streets. And the fact that the billboard hovering over the double doors of the Main Street Theater advertised Hollywood’s hottest movie let her know the cinema was still doing a booming business. Tess had spent many a Saturday afternoon in the cool, dark recesses of that movie house while her father was busy at his shop. And then as a teen, her theater visits changed to Saturday nights. When she’d sneaked out on dates with Dylan Minster.

His name whispered across her mind, across her thoughts, sending shivers skittering across her skin.

Lord, how she had loved him. And the things she’d learned from him...

Tenderness. Commitment. Affection. Passion.

The closeness and devotion they had shared together rivaled even that between Shakespeare’s infamous Romeo and Juliet.

Tess smiled. The childishly fanciful manner in which she thought of her relationship with Dylan was inevitable, entirely natural, she guessed, seeing as how she’d been so young when they’d been a couple. Her smile faded, though, because along with tender passion, he’d taught her other things as well.

Pain. And guilt. And anger.

The awful names he’d called her had the flush of humiliation rushing to her face even after all this time. It was so sad that the three wonderful years they spent together were marred forever by the one hostile, accusation-filled fight they’d had. The fight that had her finally agreeing to leave Pine Meadow with her father. The hateful words Dylan had used as weapons to assault her had been a devastating turning point in her life. Without them, without hearing Dylan’s opinion of her face-to-face, she’d have never left New Jersey with her father. She’d have never run away from the young man who had captured her heart so completely. No matter the threats from his well-respected and wealthy family. No matter the consequences.

Braking for a red light, she forced herself to rise from the foggy haze of her memories. She’d automatically switched on her left turn signal, and as she waited for the light to change, she realized she was staring at the red brick building that had always been the home of Minster Savings and Loan.

Fear welled up inside her seemingly out of nowhere. A fear so pure, so unadulterated, it had her heart pounding, her blood whooshing in her eardrums. It mattered not one whit that the panic threatening to drown her was irrational. The fact that Helen Minster, or the rest of the Minster clan, could no longer hurt her was too logical a thought; besides, it was buried under about a dump truck load of frantic insanity that had perspiration prickling her underarms and her brain screaming at her to get the hell out of this town, get the hell away from the prejudice of the judgmental Minsters. Such thinking caused nothing but heartache, humiliation and hurt for people like herself.

She’d worked so hard not to obsess about the account book she’d found among her father’s possessions. But now questions and conclusions swam in her head until she thought she’d surely drown in them.

Had her father accepted some kind of payoff from Helen Minster? There really was no other explanation that Tess could come up with. Had they really been paid to leave Pine Meadow? She shook her head, thinking the only possible answer to that was yes. And all this time Tess had been under the impression she and her father had left town of their own free will, with their chins held high, their pride intact. But it seemed their exodus had been under a whole different set of circumstances entirely. But if what she surmised was true, why hadn’t her father used that money when the two of them had been in such need of it over the years? The interest had accrued on that account, and not one dime had ever been withdrawn. That didn’t seem to make sense, and it was that part of the situation that had her curious for answers. It was that part of the situation that had compelled Tess to take a leave of absence from her new practice and travel to Pine Meadow.

She had to admit, there was one question that haunted her more than any other. Had Dylan been aware of the payoff?

A horn blared behind her and she stomped her foot on the gas pedal, desperate to get away from the bank and all the mocking questions it conjured. Her tires screeched a complaint as she took the turn much too quickly. Another turn had her heading toward Pine Meadow’s east end. The “Bowers,” as the area had been known years ago. The wrong side of the tracks. The bad part of town. Her part of town.

She slowed the car and gulped in several deep breaths in an effort to calm her troubled mind. Being back in her neck of the woods, seeing her old haunts, somehow comforted her. And she focused all her attention on them, the narrow streets and close-packed businesses soothing her frazzled nerves.

Home. The businesses in the Bowers had been mostly small, family-owned enterprises that struggled from month to month to remain open. These people had known no other way of life. Had no other means to eke out a living. And from the looks of things, that hadn’t changed.

She turned down Cox Avenue and slowed down when she came to the building her father used to rent as his shoe repair shop. The main floor of the small building housed a coffee shop now. And seeing the frilly, faded yellow curtains hanging in the two upstairs windows, she surmised that someone lived in the tiny one bedroom apartment where she had been raised.

Heaving a forlorn sigh, she continued driving down the street. She’d played hopscotch on this sidewalk as a little girl. Jumped rope with her friends. Tess wrapped herself in the warm blanketlike memory of the love and security she’d felt as a child. Looking both ways at the four-way stop, that’s when she saw it.

Dylan’s Auto Repair.

The small, metal placard advertising Body Work dangled from below the Auto Repair sign, as if it had been added on. A second thought.

Could it be...?

“No,” came her verbal reply. Dylan Minster’s favorite hobby might have been working on cars, but he’d made it abundantly clear that he was going into his family’s banking business. Abundantly clear. Besides, a Minster would never be caught dead opening a business in the Bowers.

Still, her eyes remained glued to that sign. It seemed to call out to her. Relentless. Enticing. Like a glass of cool water to someone dying of thirst.

“Hey, there!”

Tess’s gaze whipped around to see an elderly lady standing on the corner.

“You lost?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” Tess told her. “I grew up around here. Lived overtop the coffee shop a couple of blocks back. My dad had a shoe repair shop there.”

“Well, now.” The woman smiled. “I don’t remember the shop being anything other than a coffeehouse. But I’ve only lived here seven years. Ever since I had to move in with my daughter and her husband.” Her smile widened. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks.” Tess’s tone was vague as her eyes were inexorably drawn back to the auto repair shop. Then she found herself saying, “Things haven’t changed too much.” She paused. “But I see there are a few new businesses in the Bowers...”

The hesitation had been purposeful. Tess hoped the woman would reveal some information regarding the garage across the street.

The woman chuckled. “The city council has tried every way possible to get people to stop calling this place the Bowers. They started a campaign a few years back. Wanted us to call this part of town East Meadows. That fell flat. People use what they know, I guess. And this place will always be the Bowers, won’t it?”

“I guess,” Tess said, her gaze never leaving the building she’d hoped to learn more about.

Finally the woman seemed to perceive her interest. “You know Dylan Minster?”

After several moments Tess was able to get her tongue to work. “I did. Once. A long time ago.” The curt sentences sounded rusty to her own ears.

“That Dylan fought his family, the city council and a whole army of other people when he wanted to open his garage over here.”

By over here, Tess knew she meant in this less reputable part of town.

Movement caught her eye, and then she saw him. He stood in the large open doorway of the first bay, directing as someone backed a large car out of the garage. Tess felt every nerve ending in her body come alive, alert.

Dylan Minster. In the flesh. She’d know the set of those wide, muscular shoulders anywhere, recognize the tilt of that chin. That was the man who had stolen her heart. The man who had taught her what love between two people was all about. However, he was also the man who had crushed her spirit, hurt her like no one else ever had. The man who had fathered her stillborn baby girl. Her gaze never wavered from his fine form as her mind churned with all these bits from the past.

“You know,” the woman said to her, “seeing as how you knew Dylan and all, and seeing as how you’re in the neighborhood, you ought to stop in over there and say hello.”

Tess’s voice actually quivered as she answered, “I think I’ll do that.”


Chapter Two

The broad expanse of his chest made the navy, run of-the-mill uniform shirt look not quite so run-of-the-mill. The rolled-up sleeves revealed powerful, tanned hands and forearms, the open collar, a corded neck that invited a woman’s lips to explore.

Tess started with a tiny twitch, her eyes widening. Where had that thought come from?

From the deepest depths of your memory, came a silent answer. That most sensuous of places that Dylan had awakened when you were just seventeen.

Well, she decided, such thoughts would simply have to go straight back to wherever they came from, and she’d have to shut the door on them. Lock the door on them. And toss away the key.

After checking the street traffic one more time, she inched across the intersection and then steered toward the asphalt parking lot of the garage.

She stopped the car, its engine idling softly. “Are you out of your mind?” she whispered to herself. “What are you doing?” Did she really believe Dylan would want to see her after all this time? After all the mean words they had hurled at each other?

But that seemed like a lifetime ago. They were both adults now, weren’t they?

She cringed at the question, remembering how very grown-up she’d thought she’d been at seventeen. Seventeen and pregnant.

Again, she brushed her memories of the past aside, turning the key to cut the engine. There were questions that needed answers. She really didn’t care one way or the other if Dylan would want to see her. He was going to see her.

Tess got out of her car, but it was the sound of her car door closing that had him looking her way. He called out for the driver of the big, white Cadillac to stop, and the car halted with a slight jerk.

His dark head tilted the tiniest bit and those deep green eyes of his narrowed, a frown creasing his brow.

She stopped about ten feet from him. A buffer zone of sorts.

“Hello, Dylan,” she said, reaching up and pulling off her sunglasses.

His gaze widened with recognition when she spoke, almost as though he’d known who she was, but refused to believe it until she actually addressed him. A dozen wild gypsies stomped out a boisterous jig on her nerves as she awaited his response.

Ho-ly hell! Tess. Tess Galloway. How she’d changed!

The teenage girl who had knocked him out of his high-top basketball sneakers all those years ago had been rail-thin, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks irresistible to him then.

Apparently the coltish Tess had grown up. Her girlish figure had filled out with the kind of womanly curves that fueled a man’s dreams when he was asleep and vulnerable. And not a single freckle could be found on her pale-as-moonlight complexion. Her manicured nails told him she’d broken the childish proclivity of nibbling on them when she was worried. Remembering how she’d lamented, again and again, what she’d thought was an unbreakable habit, he nearly smiled. Nearly. But he successfully reined it in.

But one thing about her hadn’t changed. Her eyes. Brown as rich, dark chocolate, and just as luscious.

That gaze alone was enough to have his libido churning down low in his gut. But put together the whole package, the angelic face, the bewitching curves, and no man was safe against a gnawing hunger that had nothing to do with food. The grown-up Tess Galloway would tweak the sexual appetite of any man.

Reaching into his back pocket with as much nonchalance as he could muster, he pulled out an oily old rag. He wiped at the grease on his forearm and said, “Well, well, well.”

Immediately he bit down on a silent groan. For years he’d practiced what he’d say if Tess were ever to show up in his life again. He’d filled a multitude of aching, need-filled nights imagining this moment, coming up with witty, double entendres meant to show her how great he was doing without her and make her regret leaving Pine Meadow, leaving him. But what had just come out of his mouth couldn’t have sounded more lame.

Absently he stuffed the rag into his back pocket. “Look what just blew in with the wind.”

Oh, Lord. He was going from bad to worse.

It was this damned surge of testosterone, he knew. The rush of hormones was hogging his body’s blood flow, making it impossible for his brain, or his tongue, to function properly.

Enough! the logical part of his mind cut in like a razor-edged knife. Why the hell are you lusting after this woman? Isn’t she the one who left you all alone? Isn’t she the one who sent Erin to you with an attitude so casual, so blase, it seemed to say she thought their child was like some stray mutt that needed tending?

His jaw clenched tight. Good. Anger. Strong enough to sink his teeth into. Strong enough to suffocate the desire burning a hole deep in his belly.

Like a flurry of sharp blows to his chin, memories bombarded him. Erin, crying with diaper rash, and he, a new father who knew zip about a cure. Erin, sick and weepy with a high fever. Erin, demanding attention when he was nothing but dog tired after a long day at work.

Excellent, he thought. He wanted to recall all the bad experiences he’d had as a single father. He urged those fearful, nerve-racking, irritating memories forward, in fact They would be the perfect stones and mortar to build himself a sturdy wall of defense against the woman standing in front of him.

“So—” he heard the clipped edge in his tone and liked it, latched onto it, actually, as if it was some kind of weapon with the ability to protect him “—you’ve finally come to see how your little puppy dog has fared after all these years.”

A light autumn breeze blew a few wayward strands of her glorious red hair into her face and she shoved them back with her free hand, her long nails combing through the tresses with one smooth stroke. Only when her face was free from obstruction did he see the bewilderment knitting her brow, clouding those gorgeous mahogany eyes.

“My little...”

Her words faded as she stopped to moisten her lips, and the sight of her delicate pink tongue sent his heart hammering his ribs like the pistons of a prime, asskicking 100-horse-power engine. Why had time turned her into such a beautiful and elegant swan?

Not that she’d been an ugly duckling as a teen. No stretch of the imagination could have him saying that. Hell, she’d been cute as a damn kitten. He was reminded just how cute she’d been every time he looked at Erin—Tess’s spitting image. But the years that had passed had made the woman in front of him far more than merely attractive. She was a radiant, dazzling diamond.

Suddenly he blinked. Was that pain he read in her gaze? What the hell did she have to feel hurt about?

“I never thought of you like that, Dylan,” she said softly. “I never did.”

Rage flashed red before his eyes like leaping flames.

“Me?” he snarled. “I’m not talking about me.”

The frown in her brow bit deeper, but he was so infuriated he couldn’t be bothered giving it a second thought.

“I’m talking about the little stray you so heartlessly sent back to me,” he ranted on quietly. “The waif you thought was so useless you didn’t even give her a name before you got rid of her.”

“I’m—”

Dylan watched her head shake, her hand raise to splay at the base of her throat.

“I, ah, I don’t under—”

Erin chose that very moment to shut off the engine, open the heavy door of the Caddy and get out of the car. Glancing back over his shoulder, he was grateful to see that the car’s windows had been closed. Maybe the noise of the idling engine had kept his daughter from hearing what he’d said. Lord, he hoped so. The last thing he wanted was for Erin’s self-esteem to be injured by thinking she hadn’t been wanted. Although that was the fact of the matter—at least from Tess’s side of things.

“Daa-aad.” Erin drew out the word as only an eager, impatient kid could. “You said I could park Mrs. Warrington’s Caddy. Please don’t change your mind. I already got it halfway out the door and I didn’t hit nothin’ yet.”

“You didn’t hit anything yet.” This probably wasn’t the best time to correct Erin’s grammar, but the action was automatic. Besides, he couldn’t have his daughter speaking like a heathen, now, could he?

Erin must have realized they weren’t alone because she grew quiet and came to stand beside him.

“Hi,” she said to Tess, offering a friendly smile.

“My name’s Erin. Erin Minster. How are ya today?”

The daddy in Dylan couldn’t help but feel a prideful tug inside. Erin had never had a problem with shyness, that was for sure, and he’d taught her that amiability was a great way to secure the return business of customers.

Tess didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop Erin. “You having car trouble?” the child tried again. “You’ve come to the right place, ’cause my dad can fix anything that runs on gasoline.”

He indulged himself in just looking at his marvellous little girl who never ceased to cause a fuzzy, satisfied warmth to flow through him that only a “hand’s on” kind of dad could feel. But his smile faded as he glanced back at Tess.

His mouth firmed into a fine line as he noticed her expression was nothing short of...earth-shattering.

Well what in heaven’s name had Tess expected? A baby? Coming into town ten years after the child’s birth, of course their daughter was going to be all grown up. A young lady, as his mother had described Erin earlier. Had Tess anticipated meeting a toddler or something? Why did she look so astounded?

Tess’s brown eyes seemed to chum with storm clouds as she studied Erin. When she lifted her gaze to his, it was filled with silent, thunderous questions he found quite bewildering. Then her attention clamped once again on their daughter.

Finally she uttered a soft, breathy, “Oh, my,” turned on her heel and raced toward her car. In another moment, she was speeding away.

“Wow,” Erin said to him when the wheel-flung pebbles in the parking lot settled. “What was her problem?”

Dylan didn’t answer. Not because he meant to ignore his daughter’s query, but because he didn’t quite know what to say.

It wasn’t his fault that Tess Galloway was having trouble facing her daughter. It wasn’t his fault she couldn’t cope with what she’d done in the past. And it wasn’t his fault she felt the need to once again flee from her responsibility.

However, his silence was more telling than he’d realized.

“You know her, don’t you, Dad?”

All he could do was look down into Erin’s chocolate-brown gaze.

“So, who is she?” Erin asked, already sensing the answer to her first question.

Heaving a weary sigh, Dylan debated what to say. How to answer: He could lie. Tell the child he had no idea who the crazy woman was. But Tess Galloway would probably be back. Of course, it was entirely possible that she’d run away again, just as she’d done before, and he and Erin would never see hide nor hair of her. But she certainly wouldn’t leave town before causing him as much trouble as she could. That was about how his luck ran. However, he refused to allow Tess to damage the trust he knew his daughter placed in him, so telling the child the truth and helping her deal with it was probably the best path to follow.

“That,” he said with a slow, measured reluctance,

“was your mother.”

The faint odor of cigarette smoke hanging in the still air was plain evidence that the hotel clerk had made a mistake in booking Tess’s room. She’d specified a smoke-free room. But the idea was so small it was meaningless when weighed against the gargantuan revelation that had her in complete and utter turmoil.

She paced the seven steps it took to reach the far wall, then turned and paced back to the door of the tiny bathroom.

Her baby daughter hadn’t died.

Her baby daughter hadn’t died.

Raking all ten fingers through her hair, Tess paused in front of the dressing mirror and stared at her reflection as she was lambasted with questions and ideas that seemed to fly at her like dive-bombing fighter planes.

How could this have happened? How could a woman give birth and...

She stopped the thought in midstream. She hadn’t been a woman. She’d been a girl. A teenager. Still how could any female, of any age, give birth to a baby and not know that her daughter lived? Such a thing was inconceivable...wasn’t it? Things like that didn’t really happen. Those kind of situations were only impossible, unbelievable fictionalized ideas thought up by movie-of-the-week scriptwriters.

Things like this simply didn’t happen to sane, rational, normal people like herself.

At the moment, though, Tess felt anything but sane and rational.

Erin.

Erin Minster.

Staring unblinkingly into the mirror, Tess saw an older version of the child’s face. Erin had her eyes. Erin had her nose. Her mouth. Her chin. Her hair.

There was no doubt in her mind that Erin was her baby.

Her daughter was alive!

And Tess had run from her the instant she’d made the connection. Her eyes rolled upward and she closed her lids. Why had she made such a dash for her car? Why hadn’t she simply stayed and talked things out with Dylan? Why hadn’t she introduced herself to her daughter?

She had no other excuse except to say that the discovery had been staggering. No, it had been mind-blowing. A literal bombshell that had devastated her thinking processes.

Alive. And well. And living with her father in Pine Meadow.

How could this be? How could this have happened?

Worrying the small pearl pendant that hung on the delicate gold chain around her neck, Tess resumed her pacing.

Had Dylan somehow kidnapped Erin from the hospital in Connecticut where Tess had given birth?

She knew that Dylan had been rebellious in his youth, but she’d never witnessed him break the law. Besides, the idea that he might have abducted their child simply didn’t make sense when she thought of the awful accusations he’d made when she’d come to him with the news of her pregnancy.

“You won’t trap me into marriage,” he’d railed at her.

His choice of hurtful words had clearly told her that he didn’t want her. That he didn’t want their baby. So she really couldn’t imagine him turning around and stealing their child from the hospital nursery.

Furthermore, even if Dylan had been the type of person who could do such a thing, with doctors and nurses milling around, she just didn’t think it would be easy to pull off. No matter what the movie-of-the-week scriptwriters might want TV watchers to believe.

But the Minsters were wealthy enough to pay off a doctor or nurse. The thought floated eerily into her mind, and she shivered.

People who chose to work in the medical profession did so to help people, not hurt them, she reminded herself. Yes, but, a tiny voice piped in, there was always someone who was desperate enough to act unethically. Especially if money was involved.

Suddenly Tess felt sick to her stomach to think the man she’d thought had been the love of her life would hurt her so terribly. Would rob her of her own flesh and blood.

He had been vicious when he broke up with you all those years ago, the tiny voice echoed in her head.

Yes, she remembered. He had been vicious.

She unwittingly nibbled the cuticle of one thumb. Why didn’t things seem to add up? she wondered. Why didn’t the pieces fit?

The scene at Dylan’s garage earlier today unfolded again in her mind. All afternoon she’d been replaying the bit where Erin had come into the picture. Her gorgeous little girl had stepped out of the driver’s seat as if she’d been born there. Tess couldn’t help but smile.

However, she forced herself to push the endearing image aside and focus on what had happened prior to Erin’s appearance. What had she said to Dylan? More importantly, what had he said to her?

“So, ” his words floated into her mind, “you’ve finally come to see how your little puppy dog has fared after all these years.” Her breath caught as his meaning cut her to the quick. Then, she remembered him saying, “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about the little stray you so heartlessly sent back to me. The waif you thought was so useless you didn’t even give her a name before you got rid of her. ”

The realization was enough to make her knees buckle, and she sank onto the mattress, burying her face in her hands.

Dylan thought she hadn’t wanted Erin. He thought she’d heartlessly sent her newborn daughter away without even giving the child a name. He thought she hadn’t wanted to raise her own baby. He thought she’d known all along of her child’s whereabouts, but that she hadn’t even cared enough to call or visit or—

Tess groaned audibly. Dear Lord in heaven, Dylan had thought all these horrible things about her for the last ten years! She pressed trembling fingers against her mouth as one final, chilling question came to her.

What must her little girl think of her?

Without another thought, Tess grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

“The garage is closed.”

Tess spun around to see the same elderly lady with whom she’d talked before, the same one who had urged her, only a couple of hours ago, to stop in and visit Dylan.

“Yes, I see that,” Tess said, still wrestling with the disappointment she experienced over seeing the Closed sign hanging in the window of Dylan’s place of business. She’d had the thought of going to Minster House to look for him, but didn’t know if she had the nerve to do so. “The sign there says he opens at eight in the morning.”

She hated the thought of waiting all those hours before having the chance to talk to Dylan. And Erin.

A thrill shot through her body with a jolt when she realized all over again that her baby was alive. Really alive!

“Eight, sharp,” the woman said.

Defeat rounded Tess’s shoulders. “I guess I’ll come back tomorrow. Thanks for coming over to talk.”

“Aww, now—” the woman actually seemed embarrassed “—there’s no cause to go thanking me. Just trying to be neighborly. And seeing as how you sped out of here earlier like an arrow out of a bow, didn’t seem like you and Dylan had much chance to catch up on things.”

“No.” Now it was Tess’s turn to feel chagrined. “You’re right, we didn’t.” But she simply couldn’t bring herself to explain the situation.

What could she say? That she’d just discovered today that she has a daughter?

This woman would think she was a raving lunatic!

“Well, I’d better go find someplace to grab some dinner.” The last thing Tess wanted was food. But she needed a means to politely take her leave. She had a hotel room floor that needed pacing, hours that needed worrying through. She turned away and started toward her car.

“You know...”

Something in the woman’s tone made her jerk to a halt and spin around. The elderly lady’s mouth was curled into a soft smile.

“I know how you can contact Dylan,” she said. “If you’ve a mind to, that is.”

Tess’s silent, eager expression was answer enough to make the woman chuckle.

“You see, Dylan has his phone number listed there—” she pointed to a small, index-card-size note taped in a lower corner of the window “—just in case of an emergency. I had to call him once when a bunch of boys were hanging about in the parking lot here and getting up to no good.”

With her hopes soaring, Tess rushed to the window, scrambling in her purse for something to write with at the same time.

“Thank you,” she told the woman. “Thank you so much.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t do you any favors. His number is there in the window for all the world to see.”

Tess protested, “Yes, but—”

“Would you stop already,” the woman said, grinning. “And go make your call. There’s a telephone right there on the corner.”

“I will.” Tess stuffed the ink pen back into her purse and then began fishing for change as she headed for the phone booth.

Dylan answered on the third ring, the sound of his voice like a soft caress against Tess’s ear.

“Dylan,” she said, making every effort to speak smoothly, “it’s Tess.”

There were several seconds of dead silence.

Finally she heard him exhale in a short, puffy sort of sigh.

“I’ve got to admit,” he said quietly, “you’ve surprised me again. I thought I might hear from you, but . not quite so soon. How’d you get my home number?”

Not wanting to get the elderly lady who had helped her into hot water, Tess only told him half the truth. “From the emergency card you have posted in the front window at your auto repair shop.”

“Ah.”

The small sound was velvet soft over the phone line.

“And you thought this constituted an emergency.”

Tess listened hard, but detected no censure in his tone, and she was left believing that this was his way of filling what would have otherwise been an awkward silence.

“It is to me,” she told him. “We need to talk, Dylan.”

Again, he sighed, but this one was tinged with irritation.

“Look,” he said, “this isn’t a good time. I’m trying to get dinner. And thanks to my mother, Erin has a boatload of make-up work that needs to be done before school tomorrow. It isn’t a good time for you to be coming over here and disrupting Erin’s life—”

“I have no intention of disrupting anything,” Tess said, cutting in. It broke her heart to hear him talk of cooking dinner and helping with homework so mundanely when she’d never once had the opportunity to do such things for her daughter.

“Dylan...” The pleading in her voice was so thick, she had to stop.

All she wanted to do was make him understand. But if she were to simply blurt out the situation; that she’d been lied to, that she’d thought all these years that their baby was dead, that someone had committed a horrendous crime by stealing her child, he’d think she’d gone completely insane. She needed to see him face-to-face. She needed to tell him everything in a calm, rational manner. That was the only way to make him understand she was telling the truth.

Before she could speak, he said, “I want you to know that I won’t allow you to upset Erin. I don’t want you overwhelming her.”

“I understand,” she said. “I don’t want to overwhelm her, either.”

She’d never dream of causing her daughter one moment of worry or trouble.

“M-maybe,” she stumbled over her thoughts as they came at her, “it would be best if you and I met. Just to talk. To catch up.”

The third sigh he expelled was weary sounding.

“I told you, Tess. I’m in the middle of fixing dinner. And then there’s Erin’s schoolwork. I want to be here if she needs me.”

“Of course,” she quickly agreed. “But maybe after? There’s a coffee shop down the street from your garage. In the same building where my dad had his shop. We can talk there.”

“It’ll be at least two hours. And I don’t know if I can find a sitter.”

“I’ll wait,” she said in a rush.

She heard yet another exhalation.

“Please, Dylan. Please try.” She could think of nothing else to say except, “I’ll be waiting,” and then she gently hung up the phone.


Chapter Three

He wasn’t coming.

Absently Tess tapped the teaspoon against the palm of her hand. She glanced at the door of the small coffee shop for what surely must have been the millionth time.

Her eyes latched onto the large-faced clock behind the wide, white counter. Ten after nine. Nearly three hours had gone by since she’d called Dylan. Without thought, she raised her thumb to her mouth and searched nervously for a cuticle to worry.

He wasn’t coming.

But he wouldn’t not come. Would he? Not after the way she’d pleaded with him. Not when she’d just discovered—

“Here you go,” the waitress said softly, setting a tall, icy glass of lemonade in front of Tess. “This is on the house. You won’t sleep a wink tonight with all the coffee you’ve had.”

A shadowy smile of appreciation barely curled the corners of Tess’s mouth. Sliding the empty coffee mug away from her several inches, she murmured, “Thank you,” and reached for the glass.

“I wish you’d let me bring you something to eat,” the waitress said.

The concern she heard in the woman’s tone surprised Tess. She was a complete stranger to the waitress. Only in a town as small as Pine Meadow would total strangers take such an interest in another’s welfare, she thought.

“Thanks,” Tess said, noticing that the woman’s name tag identified her as Sue. “But I couldn’t eat a thing.”

Sue’s distress deepened into creases that marred her brow. “Are you sure you gave him the correct address? I mean, is there any chance he might have gone to some other coffee shop? There’s a diner on High Street,...”

This time Tess’s surprise had her mouth inching open, her eyes blinking. She’d guessed Tess was waiting for someone. Waiting for a man.

Shifting her weight onto one hip, Sue absently slipped her pencil behind her ear, shook her head and said softly, “Honey, you’re watching that door like you expect it to slip off its hinges and walk away. And no woman sits around for hours unless she’s expecting a man. An important man.”

The feathery-yet-intense inflection the waitress placed on the last short sentence clearly conveyed that she was sure that the man Tess awaited was no less than a lover. In any other circumstance, Tess was sure she’d have blushed. But the chaos reigning in her brain had her thoughts, her emotional responses, fragmented, splintered.

Dylan was an important man, she realized. Not because of any close relationship she shared with him, but because of what they had created. A precious child. A daughter. Erin.

The beautiful name whispered across her mind, and Tess latched onto it, focused on it and enjoyed a small moment of calm.

But the mere idea that her daughter was alive and well soon had her head churning all over again. However, she knew getting lost in the questions wouldn’t help her one bit, so shoving the roiling thoughts aside, she looked up at the waitress.

“He is important,” Tess admitted, although she didn’t feel up to straightening out the woman’s erroneous thinking by clarifying all that her statement meant.

“Well, you wait as long as you like,” Sue told her. “We don’t close till eleven.”

The front door opened then, and Tess and the waitress were turning their heads to look before the small bells attached to the door’s hinge barely had time to tinkle.

He looked good, Tess mused, her pulse pumping to life through veins that suddenly felt too small. Even though trouble clouded his eyes, the intense green of them had her breath catching in her throat. She remembered years ago how the long, wavy hair at the back of his neck would curl in silky tresses around her finger. But his chestnut hair was cut shorter now. In a more respectable fashion.

“Dylan! What brings you out at this time of night?” Sue greeted. “You’re usually home with Erin, doing homework and housework, playing Daddy.”

Tess didn’t know why she was so taken aback that the waitress knew Dylan—his shop was just up the block from the coffeehouse—but startled she was. However, maybe it wasn’t so much that the waitress knew him, but the familiarity with which Sue greeted him that had Tess feeling so...odd.

Jealousy.

When she put a name to the emotion that was constricting her chest, she nearly gasped. Impossible! It was completely out of the question.

Then what was it?

Despite the anxiety shadowing his gaze, Dylan smiled at the waitress—and it was then that Tess correctly identified what she was feeling.

Envy. She was pea green with it. Before she could analyze the feeling further, though, Dylan’s intense gaze was once again focused on her, silently demanding her attention.

“Let’s go,” he said, keeping the door propped open with one hand.

Tess felt as if she moved in slow motion as she made to rise. A small exhalation of shock erupted from the waitress. Looking up at the woman, Tess saw questions in Sue’s eyes.

You’ve been waiting for Dylan? her gaze seemed to ask.

As if she were in a sleep-fogged dream, Tess decided she simply couldn’t concern herself with the woman’s curiosity. Tossing some bills on the table, she turned toward the door.

“I’ve got a fresh apple pie in the back,” the waitress said to Dylan. “You sure I can’t talk you into having a slice?”

“Some other time, Sue,” Dylan said. “Erin’s with a sitter, and she won’t go to bed until I get home and put my foot down. Thanks anyway.” Then his gaze darted to Tess and he curtly repeated, “Let’s go,” his tone urging her to hurry.

The waitress softly called, “Bye.”

And Tess was surprised to realize she was the one being spoken to. She nodded to the woman and offered her a distracted smile as she moved toward Dylan.

He was holding the door open and she was forced to brush the broad expanse of his chest with her shoulder as she passed between him and the doorjamb. The woodsy aroma of his cologne struck her full force and her instinct urged her to hesitate, to savor his heated scent. But luckily, he planted his hand firmly on the small of her back and propelled her out onto the sidewalk. Normally she’d have been incensed by such overbearing behavior, but she was relieved to follow his lead at the moment. How idiotic would she have looked if she’d paused to sniff the man’s cologne?




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