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A Father's Secret
Yvonne Lindsay


Paternity crisis!There’s been a mistake at the fertility clinic. Now widow Erin Connell has to face the possibility that her baby son is not her husband’s child. And, worse, that Connell Lodge, her son’s legacy and the only real home she’s ever known, might be lost to them both.But billionaire Sam Thornton’s arrival at her bed and breakfast changes everything. Erin is stunned by the ferocity of her sudden attraction. Sam, too, is thunderstruck…and tormented. He’s come here for one reason only, and falling for the pretty owner isn’t it. He’s not leaving without her son – his son…‘Sassy, sexy and full of sparkle!’ – Leigh, Personal Trainer, Harrogate www.yvonnelindsay.com










“I want you, Erin. Tell me to stop now and I will. Or tell me you want me, too.”

“I want you, Sam,” she said. “But I don’t know what you want out of this.”

He knew exactly what she meant. They were each so emotionally raw in their own ways.

“I don’t know, either,” he admitted. “But I know I’ve felt alone and empty for too long. I think you know how that feels. I think we can make that emptiness go away, for a while, together. We deserve that, don’t we?”

“And in the morning?” she asked. “What then?”

“I won’t think any less of you, Erin. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since we kissed last week. I know you felt something then, just as I did. You even said it was what was right for us at the time. And so is this.”




About the Author


New-Zealand-born, to Dutch immigrant parents, YVONNE LINDSAY became an avid romance reader at the age of thirteen. Now, married to her ‘blind date’, and with two fabulous children, she remains a firm believer in the power of romance. Yvonne feels privileged to be able to bring to her readers the stories of her heart. In her spare time, when not writing, she can be found with her nose firmly in a book, reliving the power of love in all walks of life.

She can be contacted via her website: www.yvonnelindsay.com



Recent titles by the same author:

A FORBIDDEN AFFAIR

THE WAYWARD SON

THE PREGNANCY CONTRACT

Did you know these are also available as eBooks?Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk




A Father’s

Secret

Yvonne Lindsay

















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


To Toni Kenyon, with grateful thanks for her research in all matters relating to NZ law and this story, even though we had to transplant to another country in the end! :-)




One


“What are you going to do?”

Erin looked from the worried face of her friend to the letter in her hand and shook her head. “I don’t know what I can do.”

“You have to find out more. At least then you’ll be better informed if you have to fight it,” Sasha said vehemently. “What did that letter the other day say? That someone had come forward to say mistakes had been made at the fertility clinic? And with nothing to back up their claims? Seriously, it could just be a disgruntled employee creating trouble.”

“Well,” Erin said, waving the letter she’d received from a San Francisco law firm out of reach of her baby son’s grip. “Clearly someone believes in it enough to follow it up. And besides, if it’s true, if the tests prove Riley isn’t James’s son, do I have any right to fight it?”

“You’re his mother, aren’t you? You have every right under the sun. This Party A—” Sasha sneered over the moniker “—is no more than a donor.”

“Sash, really? That’s a bit harsh. The man and his wife were obviously going through the clinic for the same reason James and I were. I think it’s a bit cruel to say he’s no more than a donor.”

Erin pressed a kiss onto Riley’s head, inhaling his special baby smell and relishing anew the wonder of the life she held on her lap.

Sasha had the grace to look shamefaced. “Well, either way, you’re Riley’s mother. No one can deny you that, and it means the odds regarding custody are firmly stacked in your favor.”

It was little comfort, Erin thought as she studied the letter again. She hoped to see something, anything, that would give her some recourse to refuse to submit Riley to a DNA test to prove exactly who his father was—her late husband James or some stranger. She adjusted Riley on her lap as her heart constricted painfully. The whole situation was impossible. Riley had to be James’s son. He just had to be. Their security hinged on it.

Mistakes like what they’d suggested simply weren’t supposed to happen. When she and James had won the IVF lottery, which had taken them from their Lake Tahoe home to San Francisco to complete the procedures that led to baby Riley’s birth four months ago, they’d never for one moment thought that the fertility clinic could make such a terrible mistake. Nor had either of them dreamed that the flulike symptoms James had experienced months later masked a bacterial infection—one that led to the congestive heart failure that had taken his life within two weeks of Riley’s birth.

She was now left to deal with this all on her own, and the reality of it threatened to overwhelm her completely. The sheet of paper in her hand trembled and she set it down on the well-used kitchen table in front of her—a table that had been used by generations of Connells. A table that could only be used by future generations of Connells, according to the terms of the estate’s trust. She’d thought that everything about her home was Riley’s by right, as James’s son. What if she was wrong? She smoothed the letter onto the worn surface and wished to God she’d never gone to the post office to collect her mail today—or ever, for that matter.

Sasha’s hand came to rest on top of hers. “Don’t worry, Erin. Riley’s your son, nothing can change that, no matter who his father is. Write back and request more information before you’ll agree to any testing. Nothing in the letter you got from the lawyers acting for the clinic has even been substantiated. It’s not as if they’ve sent you categorical proof that a mix-up happened at all—and this letter from the lawyers acting for the other guy is couched in terms of a request, not a court ordered demand.”

Erin felt her heart lift at Sasha’s suggestion. “You’re right. And, at least if I write to them, that’ll delay things a little longer, won’t it?”

“Atta girl.” Sasha looked at the kitchen clock and sighed. “Sorry, I have to go. School’s out soon.”

“You go, get your kids. Don’t worry about me. And thanks for coming over when I lost it before.”

Erin had been a trembling wreck when she’d read her mail. One call to Sasha had been all it took for her one true friend to drop everything to be by her side. In a world that had changed so dramatically over the past twelve months, having her friend’s constant and loving support had been a godsend.

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, right? Call me when you get any more news, okay?” Sasha gave her a quick hug. “What time is your guest due to arrive?”

“Not until five.”

“At least having a paying guest again will help out a bit financially. I still can’t believe that James didn’t leave you and Riley better provided for.”

Erin frowned at the censure in her friend’s voice. “He did his best, Sash. Neither of us ever expected he’d die so young. Plus, our medical bills after Riley’s birth and James’s illness—well, you know they pretty much cleaned us out.”

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just so unfair…”

Erin swallowed against the lump in her throat. Yes, it was so unfair. After all they’d been through, all they’d survived. Erin felt the old familiar depression begin to creep back in and she gave herself a swift mental shake. Dwelling on the past changed nothing. She had Riley, and that was all she needed to focus on now.

After seeing Sasha off, Erin changed Riley’s diaper before nursing him and putting him down for his afternoon sleep. Once he was down, she grabbed the baby monitor so she could hear if he didn’t settle, and quickly went upstairs to check on the room for her new guest. It had been ages since they’d taken guests at Connell Lodge, and she was still suffering from pretty hefty doses of baby brain. She wouldn’t put it past herself to have forgotten something important.

But no. The room was perfect and, with the afternoon sun streaming through the steel-paned windows, welcoming. Fresh lavender-scented linens graced the wide bed, a selection of roses from the garden, casually arranged in a crystal vase, decorated the tallboy against the wall, and the wide-plank flooring gleamed with polish. The en suite bathroom was equally pristine, with fresh towels on the rail all thick and fluffy, and a newly dry-cleaned robe on a hanger behind the door with its belt neatly knotted. Soaps, shampoos, yes, everything was there in abundance.

She’d arranged for the room across the hall from this one to be converted into a study at her guest’s request. He was, apparently, working on a book and had expressed a desire for privacy during his stay. Well, there’d be no problem with that, Erin conceded. He would be the one and only visitor here for the duration. In fact, he would be the first visitor she’d had here in months. His enquiry through their website had come at just the right time.

She’d missed this—the pride in getting a room ready for guests, wondering what they’d be like, whether they’d return. It was good to be getting back to business. During James’s illness they’d stopped taking guests and let their staff go. It had been too much for her to handle—being pregnant, caring for James, and having to look after everything on her own.

Erin mentally ran through her checklist and gauged what she had still to do before five o’clock. Yep, despite her mini-breakdown over the mail, she was still on track. And, provided the guest was punctual, she’d have time to get him settled in, and his evening meal warmed and served, before Riley woke for his feeding, playtime and bath. As she made her way back downstairs, her feet cushioned by the ornate carpet runner that snaked from top to bottom, she found herself feeling happy for the first time in a long time. Maybe things were starting to look up after all.

Sam Thornton let himself out of the car and gasped a little at the old familiar pain in his right leg and hip. Sitting for as long as he had during the four-plus hour drive from San Francisco certainly hadn’t done his frustratingly slow-to-heal body any favors. He should have flown into Reno, but then he would have been stuck with a driver he neither knew nor trusted. So Sam had convinced himself he was better off being driven the whole distance. He straightened, breathing through the pain and slowly stretching out his muscles.

“You all right, sir?” his driver asked, coming around the side of the car.

“I’ll be fine, Ray, thanks. I should have listened to you and let you stop more often along the way—for your sake if not for mine.”

Ray cocked an eyebrow. “Was that an admission of fault, sir?”

“You know it was, now shut up and help me with my bag.” Sam smiled to take any sting from his words. It didn’t matter, though. Even when Sam had been at his worst, and there’d been many days like that, Ray had merely endured whatever his irritable boss had flung at him and carried on doing his job. After all they’d weathered together, Sam considered Ray a friend as much as an employee—and he was silently grateful to have a friend with him at this particular moment as he braced himself for what he was about to do.

Sam looked at the imposing old English-style country house ahead of him. Two-storied, the concrete stucco exterior hosted multiple vines of some kind of creeper. The growth was a little unkempt, as if it hadn’t been pruned in a while. In fact, the whole property had the air of something beginning a slow, inexorable slide into neglect.

He shook his head slightly. It wasn’t the house that interested him, and he couldn’t care less about how well it was maintained. He was here with a far more important agenda.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you for a day or two, sir?” Ray asked as he handed Sam his bag and laptop case.

“I don’t need babysitting,” Sam responded, a little sharply. He closed his eyes a moment and sighed. “I’m sorry, Ray. What I meant to say is, no, thank you. I’ll be fine. You head on off and go vacation at your daughter’s as you arranged. I’ll call you when I need you. Hopefully that won’t be for a while.”

“Sure thing.”

Ray gave him a nod, then climbed back into the sleek black Audi A6. He guided the car around the circle of the drive and out onto the road. Alone now in the driveway, Sam knew there was no going back. He bent to pick up his bag and started to walk toward the lodge just as a tall, slender woman with short dark hair opened the wide front door and stepped out onto the shaded portico.

The private investigator he’d hired to track her down had failed to mention just how attractive the young widow was.

“Good afternoon,” she said, “Welcome to Connell Lodge. You must be Mr. Thornton.”

Sam stopped in his tracks. His hand gripped the handle of his carry bag so tightly it made his knuckles ache. This wasn’t happening. He was not attracted to this woman—he wasn’t allowed to be. He pushed against the hot thud of desire that beat through his veins, hard. But his body, traitorous thing that it was, was on fire. Flames licked through parts of his physique that he’d ignored now for so long that he thought he’d grown numb. Welcomingly numb.

“Mr. Thornton?”

He was caught by the worried look in her eyes—eyes that were a chocolate-brown so deep a man could get lost inside their depths and never care. He gave himself a swift mental shake. He was not attracted to this woman. Not on any level. He would not allow it.

“Yes, I’m Sam Thornton. Please, call me Sam.”

He stepped forward, his gait still uneven after his car journey, and held out his hand.

“I’m Erin, Erin Connell, your hostess.”

She took his hand in hers, and in that instant he knew he’d lost his battle with himself. A sizzle of awareness started at the point where their palms met and shot up his arm. To his surprise, she uttered a small “Oh!” before releasing his hand and taking a step back. So she was affected, too. Great. Bloody great, he thought dourly. This should not be happening.

“Please, come inside and let me show you your room,” she said, her voice a little huskier than it had been before. “Can I help you with your things?”

“No, I’ll manage on my own, thanks.”

She turned and preceded him into the lodge, affording him an excellent view of her rigid spine and the way it led in a straight line to the gentle arcs of her hips and bottom. Hips and bottom that were firmly clad in white denim that would probably be outlawed in some countries for the way it clung to her curves. Another clench of desire hit him hard and low and he forced himself to breathe through it.

This was insane. Erin Connell wasn’t even his type, he thought, as he followed her up the old wooden staircase to the next floor. He didn’t have a type. Didn’t want one, ever again. And yet, despite his silent protestations, there was still that nagging interest.

“Are you visiting from overseas?” she asked.

He got that a lot. “No, I’m from New Zealand originally, but I’ve been based in the States for about eight years now.”

“Oh, really? I’ve always wanted to go there. I hear it’s beautiful. Maybe one day,” she said airily as they reached the top of the stairs.

He was relieved not to have her enticing shape smack bang in his line of vision any longer. He followed her a short distance along the carpeted corridor and into a large, well-lit room that faced formal gardens to the rear of the property. Well, he supposed they must have been formal once. Again, there was that sense of neglect. He looked around the room. Whatever neglect there was outdoors, it didn’t extend to the inside.

“This is your room. I’m sure you’ll find you have everything you need here,” she said, moving through the space and across to open another door that clearly led to his private bathroom. “But if there’s anything else you require, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

Her smile faltered as he stood there, just staring at her like an idiot. He forced himself to make some sound of approval and clearly he succeeded because her features relaxed once more.

“Now, you asked for an office also, so I’ve created space for you across the hall from your room. If you’ll come this way?”

He followed her directly across the hall to a wood-paneled room, with a desk situated near a deep window that looked out across the private bay and beyond to the lake.

“I thought you might like the lake view while you’re working,” she continued. “I hope that’s all right?”

“It’s great,” he answered. And it was, even if he couldn’t quite infuse his voice with the right level of gratitude. For what little she was charging, he’d have been grateful for a broom cupboard under the stairs. He made a mental note to ensure he paid her a generous bonus for the effort she’d clearly gone to for him, although he doubted she’d accept it when she found out exactly why he was here. “Thank you.”

She gave him another of those smiles that hit him square in the gut. “You’re welcome. We…well, I aim to please,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “I’ll leave you to unpack your things. You mentioned in your booking email that you’d prefer to dine early, so I have your dinner warming in the oven downstairs. The dining room is directly opposite the bottom of the stairs on the ground floor and you’ll find a bellpull just inside the door. Please ring for me when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, but you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, Erin.”

Her name felt foreign on his tongue, and yet weirdly right at the same time. Had this place cast some strange spell upon him, he wondered, then thrust the random thought away for the foolishness it was. No, there was no spell. If anything, his crazy and sudden attraction to Erin Connell probably had its roots in something older and more primitive. Something that had little to do with sex itself, or the unwelcome raw need he felt for her, and everything to do with the fact he believed she was the woman who had borne his son.




Two


Sam’s eyes lit upon the monitor she had clipped to her belt, and he felt a strange tightness in his chest. As if on cue, the machine squawked into life and Sam heard his child’s cry for the very first time. He blinked back the sudden moisture that burned at his eyes and swallowed against the lump in his throat, forcing himself to speak.

“Your baby?” he asked, his voice remarkably level despite his churning emotions.

“Yes, my son. He’s four months old, but you don’t need to worry that he’ll disturb you while you’re here. We live downstairs at the opposite end of the lodge and he’s now sleeping through the night, thank goodness.”

“It’s no problem.” He dredged up a smile. “Don’t hide him away on my account.” The noise through the monitor grew more demanding. “It sounds like you’re being summoned. Don’t let me hold you up.”

“Thanks,” Erin said, already heading for the door. “Remember to just ring for me when you’re ready for your meal. I’ll bring it straight through.”

Sam raised his hand in acknowledgment and watched as she rapidly left the room. He expelled a harsh breath and turned to face the window, staring wildly out onto the serene surface of the lake and waiting in vain for it to fill him with a sense of calm that he hadn’t felt in far too long. It had been an entire year since his wife’s death. A year filled with pain, loss, grief and overwhelming guilt. He’d welcomed each one and borne it stoically. It was the least he could do, considering it was a stupid decision on his part that had taken Laura’s life.

He’d vowed he’d never enter into another relationship with anyone—ever. He’d even had a vasectomy to ensure that he couldn’t screw up another person’s life again. He owed Laura and her memory that much. Up until today, that hadn’t been a problem, but there was something about his hostess that pinged every single one of his male receptors. Knowing that Erin Connell had that effect on him angered and scared him in equal quotients. Not even with his beautiful wife had attraction been so raw, so intense, so instant.

So very, very wrong, especially since he was only at Lake Tahoe to do something she’d probably consider unforgivable. He’d come to find a way to claim her son.

Erin all but ran to the back stairs that would take her down to her living quarters. Wow, that guy was intense. Not to mention a whole lot younger and way more attractive than she’d counted on for her first guest since reopening. She unconsciously wiped her right hand against her hip, trying to assuage the tingle that had started with his handshake and spread through her whole body every time he’d looked at her.

She pattered down the stairs and let herself into her quarters, heading straight toward Riley’s nursery and the little hands that waved above the edge of his crib for her attention. Scooping her son up against her shoulder she automatically began to rock and make the soothing sounds she knew would settle him and tried not to wince as his strong fists closed in her hair.

“Hey, little man,” she crooned. “Did you have a nice nap? It wasn’t quite long enough, though, was it? Did you hear our new visitor arrive? Is that what it is? Are you afraid you’re missing out on something, hmm?”

Erin carried Riley through to his room and placed him on the changing table, whipping off his wet diaper and replacing it with a dexterity she’d once doubted she’d ever manage. As she did so, she kept up a running commentary.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to meet our Mr. Thornton. He’s a bit of a hottie, not that I was looking, mind you. Only one man in my life,” she said bending down to blow a raspberry on Riley’s little belly. “And that’s you!”

She lifted Riley back up again as his chortles of glee faded away, striving to keep her focus where it belonged—squarely on her son. But meeting Sam Thornton had completely shaken her equilibrium. He was nothing like his courteously friendly emails had implied. She’d expected someone older, someone…well, duller. Not sex on legs.

His dark blond hair was cropped short and there were lines on his forehead and bracketing the sides of his mouth that suggested laughter was not something that came frequently to him. But his slate-gray eyes had been mesmerizing. She’d felt as if he could look right through her, to her very soul, if he so desired. And then there was his touch.

She shivered and clutched Riley just a little too tightly in reaction, earning a squeak of protest from her son. No, she didn’t want to go there, even though it had been a very long time since anyone had made her feel like that. All woman, all the way.

Erin made her way through to the kitchen and propped Riley in the tabletop rocker that gave him a clear line of sight for whatever she was doing. She adjusted the small toy mobile that was attached to one side so he could grab and play with it if he got bored watching her. She hummed a tune while she laid a large butler’s tray with all the condiments she thought her guest would enjoy with the casserole of braised beef and red wine she’d prepared earlier in the day and that now stood warming in the oven.

She’d made enough that she could freeze a couple of single portions for future meals for herself. With creamy mashed potatoes and fresh green vegetables from the kitchen garden, it would be a hearty meal. Perhaps too hearty, given that it was still late summer and the evenings were still long and, so far, delightfully warm.

She gave a mental shrug. If he had any complaints he could bring them to the management, she thought with a smile—the management that began and ended with her. It was a daunting enough role at the best of times, but Erin loved Connell Lodge with a passion. Arriving here for an interview to join the—then—much larger household staff, she’d felt as if she’d found home for the very first time in her life. She had come here with nothing and had made a life, created a family and a sense of belonging.

Ten years later, that home was being challenged by some stranger’s assertion that Riley was not her husband’s son. Party A, whoever he was, had no idea what can of worms he’d upended.

Legal advice, that was what she needed. But legal advice came with a price tag that she wasn’t in a position to pay, and she wasn’t about to use the firm that had handled the Connell family affairs for over a hundred years. Not when they were the very people who’d see her and Riley removed from the property if this whole paternity business didn’t go away.

She shook her head. She’d been James’s wife in every meaning of the word. Riley was their son. Connell Lodge was Riley’s home for his lifetime. The archaic trust that held the property only allowed direct descendants of the original James Connell, who built the property back in the early 1900s, to live there. As James’s legal and biological son, Riley and she—as his mother—had every right to be there.

A chill of foreboding ran down her spine. But what if a mistake had been made?

God, she hated this whole situation and the horribly vulnerable position it had put her in. If she had to leave right now, all she and Riley would have were the clothes on their backs and the very small amount of money left in her bank account. She had no skills other than being darn good at keeping the lodge in order and providing for their guests, and while she could competently skipper the boat moored at the end of the private pier, their charter license had long since lapsed. James had been the great outdoorsman, not to mention a much sought-after fishing guide, while all she’d ever wanted was a home—and Connell Lodge was that home.

Losing the very roof over her head was not an option. Somehow, she had to get the proof she needed to make this all go away.

A name popped into her head. Janet Morin. She’d met Janet during childbirth classes and knew the other woman had planned to return part-time to her legal practice in South Lake Tahoe almost immediately after the birth of her daughter. Maybe she could help, or at least be able to advise Erin on the best route to take without costing a small fortune. She’d make enquiries in the next few days, sound the woman out. She certainly didn’t want a whiff of any of this getting to the trustees who handled Connell Lodge—at least, not before she knew exactly where she stood, however shaky that ground may be.

Riley chose that moment to bump his nose with the toy he’d been clutching in his fist and sent up an almighty wail of protest. She unbuckled him from the rocker and lifted him in her arms but he was determined to be inconsolable.

“Shh, Riley-bear, shh,” she murmured as she held him close and peppered his little face with kisses, but he wasn’t having any of it.

From experience she knew there was only one way to soothe him. With one eye on the old-fashioned board, decorated with bells that were connected to the main rooms, she settled in a kitchen chair, unbuttoned the top of her blouse and adjusted her clothing so he could nurse. Riley latched onto her with gusto, and Erin wiped his chubby little cheeks of the tears that had stained them.

“Oh, Riley, your timing is kind of off, sweetheart. Our guest is going to be down for his dinner soon and I don’t think he’ll be impressed with me bringing along his meal with you attached to me like this.”

“I’m happy to wait.”

The voice from the door made her start, popping Riley off her. She swiftly guided him back and arranged her blouse a little more modestly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, color flaring in her cheeks as she saw exactly where Sam Thornton’s eyes were locked. “I didn’t hear you ring for me.”

“I didn’t.” Sam limped the rest of the way into the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table. “I went to the dining room, and while it’s a beautiful room, the idea of eating there alone didn’t really suit. Do you mind if I eat here, with you?”

Did she mind? Part of her yelled, “Hell, yes!” But there was an entreaty in his voice, a loneliness that struck her to her core. Did that explain the shadows in his eyes? The lines drawn on his handsome face?

“No, I don’t mind at all,” she said as smoothly as she could. “I’m sorry, about this. Riley’s a bit out of his usual routine for some reason. Maybe he’s heading for another growth spurt.”

“Riley? That’s his name?”

She must be hearing things. Was that wistfulness in Sam Thornton’s voice?

“Sure is,” she replied, swiftly covering up as Riley disengaged from her and turned to give a milky smile to the newcomer. “Riley James Connell, at your service.”

“May I hold him?”

Erin couldn’t quite disguise her shock. He wanted to hold Riley? In her experience, most men ran a mile from kids at this age, preferring them when they were older, toilet trained and at least partly able to conduct a conversation. “Most men” being her late husband, that is.

“Sure, I’ll just need to burp him first,” she said, fixing her clothing with one hand and propping Riley upright on her lap with the other.

“I can do that,” Sam said.

“You’ve done it before?” she asked in surprise.

“No, but how hard can it be?”

The man didn’t know what he was in for. “He still sometimes spits up a bit when he burps.”

“So put a towel on my shoulder,” Sam said nonchalantly. “That is what you do, isn’t it?”

Erin nodded and rose, getting a small towel from a kitchen drawer and giving it to him. He laid it over his shoulder and then held his hands out for Riley, who happily went into the arms of the stranger.

She was unable to tear her gaze from her baby in this man’s embrace. “He’ll be more comfortable if you hold him like so.” She guided one of Sam’s arms under Riley’s diapered bottom. “And if you rub his back with your other hand, holding him against you.”

Sam did as she suggested. It looked wrong, and yet right at the same time, and it reminded her that Riley had missed out on a lot of male contact with his father gone. But should he be getting that contact with Sam Thornton? She didn’t even know the man, yet somehow she instinctively felt she could trust him. When Riley belched, Sam’s face took on a look of pride that made her laugh out loud. You’d have thought it was Sam himself who’d created the hearty sound.

“Wow, the boy can burp,” he said, still gently rubbing the baby’s back.

“And that’s not all,” Erin said, a smile still wreathing her face. “You should see what he does at the other end.”

A look of horror passed over Sam’s features. “I can just imagine. Here, do you want him back?”

“No, I’ll finish getting our meal together. You can put him back in his rocker if you don’t want to keep holding him.”

“Is it safe?” Sam said, looking at the rocker.

“Sure, and it’s a huge help. Short of having him strapped to me during his waking hours, it’s a great way for him to be a bit independent of me and still see what I’m doing around the place.”

“It’s okay,” he said, “I’ll hold him until we’re ready to eat.”

Erin grabbed a second place setting and laid the kitchen table for the two of them. Even with Riley there, it felt strangely intimate to be laying the table for two. The last time she’d done this it had been several months ago, while James was still well enough to leave his bed and come to the kitchen. She pushed the memories aside. She didn’t want to go there right now. She had more than enough to think about.

Sam held the tiny body in his arms and fought to swallow past the lump in his throat. As hard as it was to believe, he could actually be holding his son. Every instinct in his body wanted to hold this child to him and protect him from the ravages of the world, but he had no right to do that until he knew for certain that Riley was his.

He watched Erin as she competently moved through the kitchen, transforming a bare table to a convivial setting with effortless ease. The aroma of the dish she’d removed from the oven to stand on a trivet on the table spoke volumes to her ability as a cook. Even now, his mouth was watering. It all seemed to come so easily to her and reminded him uncomfortably of how natural she’d been with Riley when he’d entered the kitchen, following the sounds of the baby’s cries.

Seeing the baby at her breast had brought home a whole new range of emotions. Erin offered sustenance to her son from her own body. It was perfectly natural, and yet he’d never even stopped to think about the baby’s level of dependence upon her as his mother. He wondered if Laura would have been the same—if she’d have nursed their child. They’d never even taken their discussions that far. Instead, their focus had just been on the business of getting pregnant. That focus had been consuming to the point of excluding almost everything else.

Guilt swamped him anew, making him feel disloyal to his late wife’s memory. It seemed like a betrayal to Laura to be here, to be holding this child who might be his but not theirs. To be watching Erin Connell and not Laura. If he’d only been on time to pick Laura up for their appointment instead of insisting on attending to just one more issue that had cropped up at the office. One more issue that he’d since been forced, by his injuries, to learn to delegate. But it was far too late now. Too late for Laura and too late for the child conceived for them at the fertility center.

Even surrogacy was out of the question. As far as he knew, their viable embryos had been destroyed in the clinic failure that had resulted when several anomalies had been discovered in their business practices. Anger licked at the edges of his mind. A wasted emotion now, he knew. But, according to clinic records, one of those mistakes could mean that this child in his arms had been conceived with his sperm.

“Everything okay?”

Erin’s voice broke through his reverie, jolting him free of the pain of the past and dragging him, all too willingly, into her company and the warmth and welcome of her kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m fine. That smells great.” He nodded in the direction of the table.

“You didn’t specify any dietary requirements, so I hope this will be okay.”

She ducked her head shyly, making him realize he’d been staring at her for far longer than was probably polite. Erin took Riley from him and settled the child in his rocker, where he played and gurgled happily while they sat at the table.

“This is incredible,” Sam said as he tasted the casserole she’d ladled generously onto his plate. “Where did you train?”

“Train?”

“To cook like this.” He lifted another piece of succulent and richly flavored beef to his mouth.

She initially said nothing, just watched as he ate. For some reason, having her watch him wasn’t uncomfortable, unless you counted the state of semi-arousal he’d been in from the moment he’d arrived here.

She averted her eyes from his face and focused instead on her plate. “I’m self-taught, pretty much. Connell Lodge had a cook here when I arrived, but she preferred plain food without much seasoning. I started to experiment with a few dishes, and when she retired soon after I got here James offered me the cook’s role full-time.”

“You were staff here?” That was something that hadn’t been in the dossier his private investigator had put together for him. Mind you, the man had barely had a week to gather information about her, and at Sam’s insistence was still on a quest for more.

“Initially, yes.” A bittersweet smile crossed her face. “I was a bit of a cliché, really—marrying the boss.”

A sharp pang of envy lanced through him. Sam pushed it away ruthlessly. He had no right to feel any envy for the relationship Erin had enjoyed with her husband. He himself had been very happily married—hadn’t even so much as looked at another woman in the years he and Laura had been together, and in the aftermath of her death, he’d sworn he never would again.

Erin continued. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

“So, what brought you here in the first place?” He was keen to fill the gaps in what little he knew of her past.

“I applied for work—general house duties. It was heading into winter and one of their regulars had fallen and broken her leg, leaving them short staffed. I was staying at a hostel about half an hour from here and saw a notice in the local paper, so I hitched out and applied for the job.”

“And never left,” he commented. “What did you do before you came here?”

Her expression changed, the friendliness in her eyes disappearing as effectively as if he’d just stolen her most precious possession. And, he suddenly realized, wasn’t that what he was here to do, after all?

“Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that,” she answered evasively. “Nothing important.”

Clearly, she didn’t like to talk about her past. More, he had the instinctive sensation that she was hiding something there that she would rather not have brought into the open. That instinct was what had led him to be where he was today. It had driven him to the top of his field in software development because he was never satisfied with simple answers. It made him all the more determined to discover everything he could about her. This irrational attraction toward her aside, he found he needed to know whatever it was that Erin Connell was hiding. Any secret could be a weapon to get him his son.




Three


Erin carefully sealed the envelope addressed to the San Francisco city law firm acting for Party A. Inside it was her very cautiously worded letter in which she requested more information to support Party A’s request. She could only hope that the mail would take several days to reach them, even though deep down she knew it probably wouldn’t take more than a few.

The past couple of days had made it easy to put the whole matter out of her head. She had been busy taking care of her guest—keeping his rooms tidy and clean, providing his meals for him and shamelessly enjoying his male company while she did so. And then there was Riley, who was growing and changing daily—she could hear him gurgling happily through the monitor on her hip. She’d left him on his play mat in her sitting room while she dashed to the office to get the envelope.

Yes, it was a busy life and she loved it. She didn’t want to lose it.

She had an appointment in South Lake Tahoe midmorning with Janet Morin to see if she could get a better idea of where she stood in this whole business. Janet had been more than happy to make time to see Erin when she’d called and loosely explained her situation. The woman said she’d be happy to advise, pro bono, and Erin’s relief had been palpable. Now, something that had filled her with dread was not so scary after all.

Erin started to put the envelope in her handbag and turned to leave the small office she’d adopted as her own when she’d taken over the administration side of running Connell Lodge a couple of years ago. She walked straight into the solid wall of male muscle that was Sam Thornton—her bag and its contents flying in one direction, the envelope in the other.

She reached out to steady herself, her hands coming to rest on a broad expanse of chest, the fine cotton of Sam’s shirt doing little to hide the definition of lean muscle behind it. At the same time, strong warm fingers closed around her upper arms. She could smell the clean scent of him, the slightly spicy tang of his cologne a subtle fragrance that was purely male and as intoxicating as hell.

Her breathing became uneven as she looked up into his eyes—eyes that were dark and stormy and bored straight back into her own. For a crazy second, Erin almost thought he was going to kiss her. The thought filled her with both terror and intrigue. What would he taste like, how would his lips feel on hers? And then the moment was gone. Sam’s eyes became cooler, remote, and he gently set her away from him and took a step back from her. She must have been imagining things. Maybe even wanting things a little too much. She forced herself to look away and bent to collect the scattered contents of her bag just as Sam did the same.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice a little rough around the edges. “I was distracted. I didn’t see you.”

“No, it’s my fault, I should have knocked before coming in.”

His long-fingered hands closed over the envelope and Erin saw him hesitate a moment before passing it to her. Sam was from San Francisco. Did he recognize the name of the firm on the front of the envelope? Did he wonder what she was doing sending mail to them? She gave herself a mental shake. What would he care anyway? Whatever her legal business, it had nothing to do with him.

She finished stuffing her things into her bag and rose to her feet, suddenly very aware of Sam and of how close he now stood.

“D-did you want me for something?” she stuttered, drawing in another breath of his essence before stepping backward.

“I need to print some things,” he said, his stony-gray gaze never leaving her face. Did he somehow know how much he rattled her? How his very presence made her want things from him she had no right wanting or even thinking about? “I was wondering if the printer here in your office was wireless and if I could set up the drivers in my laptop so I can send to it.”

The banality of his request dragged her concentration very firmly away from where it was heading. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s an old printer and we’ve never had a need for a wireless setup. I’m going into town this morning, though. I’d be happy to swing by the office supply store and pick up a printer for you to use upstairs.”

Mentally she counted the cost of what getting that printer would be. Surely he wouldn’t need top-of-the-line. Something basic would do and hopefully that wouldn’t be too expensive.

“Why don’t I come with you?” Sam suggested. “I can buy it myself and get some paper and other supplies at the same time. What time are you leaving?”

“Oh,” Erin said, looking at her watch, calculating the drive into town and factoring in the change to her original plans. “Let’s say in half an hour, nine o’clock. I have an appointment at ten that I can’t be late for, but leaving at nine should give us time to go to the office supply store and then maybe I can drop you somewhere before I head to my meeting?”

“Don’t worry about dropping me anywhere. I wouldn’t want you to be late. Just leave me to get the printer and I’ll wait for you near there. There must be somewhere that has a chair, a newspaper and a cup of coffee close by.”

Erin felt a wave of relief. Juggling Sam around her visit to the lawyer’s office could have gotten a bit messy time-wise.

“There are plenty of places that do just that. Well, if you’re sure, perhaps we can leave a little after nine?”

“That’d be great,” Sam nodded. “Are you bringing Riley?”

“No, not today. A friend of mine is coming here to look after him.”

Sasha had jumped at the chance to babysit Riley for a couple of hours. She had also teased Erin mercilessly about finally being forced to share her guest with someone else. Erin felt a rush of heat stain her cheeks recalling how she’d described Sam to her friend over the phone. Sasha’s sudden shrieked response of “You’re attracted to him!” had been an unpleasant shock. Her feelings had to be blatantly obvious if Sasha could pick up on them over the phone. She’d vehemently denied any interest in Sam, but Sasha hadn’t been deterred. Erin could only hope her friend wouldn’t embarrass her in front of Sam when she arrived.

“A friend? Do you trust her with Riley?” Sam’s voice sounded unusually hard, almost disapproving.

“Trust Sasha?” Erin laughed. “Of course I do. I’ve known her for ten years and she’s successfully raising three kids of her own. The youngest has just started school. Sash is my main go-to person when I need a break or can’t take Riley with me when I go out. Besides, she loves him to bits. She wouldn’t let any harm come to him.”

The sound of a car pulling up around the back of the house warned her that Sasha was here.

“That’ll be her now,” Erin said. “I’d better go let her in.”

Sam stood to one side as she bustled past, but not so far away that she didn’t get another enticing whiff of his cologne, borne on the heat of his body. She needed to train herself to hold her breath around him, she decided irrationally. It was getting too hard to be in the same room as Sam without starting to think about things that no young widow with a baby should be thinking about.

Erin headed through the lodge and flung open the back door just as Sasha raised her hand to knock.

“How’s that for timing?” Sasha said with a grin. “Now, where’s my boy?”

Erin leaned forward to give her friend a quick hug before stepping back to let her through. “He’s on his mat in my sitting room and is thoroughly entranced by the play gym you gave him. You spoil him, you know.”

“Ah, he’s easy to spoil. And how are things going with Mr. Handsome?” Sasha asked, waggling her eyebrows. “This old married lady wants to live vicariously.”

Erin laughed, wondering what Sam would think of Sasha grilling her about him. “Old? I don’t think so. And ‘things’ as you so neatly put it, are going just fine. Mr. Thornton is the perfect guest. Not a single complaint from him so far.”

“And what would I have to complain about?”

Erin’s cheeks flared with heat for the second time that morning. She wheeled around to see Sam leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb that led into the kitchen. Damn it, but the man could move as silently as a ghost. Just how much had he heard? She suffered a moment of silent agony at the thought that he might have caught Sasha’s moniker for him, and hoped like mad that he wouldn’t have thought it had come from her.

“Nothing, I hope,” she said with what she hoped was a calmness she was far from feeling on the inside.

“Of course not,” Sasha interjected. “Erin’s one of the best in the business. Hi, I’m Sasha Edsell.”

“Sam Thornton.” Sam offered his hand. “Sorry to interrupt you ladies, but I just wanted to confirm what time we’re leaving?”

“About a quarter past nine, if that’s okay with you?”

“Great, thanks. Nice meeting you, Sasha.”

Sam excused himself to get ready, leaving the two women alone. As he disappeared from view, Erin puzzled over the way it almost seemed that he’d wanted to meet Sasha for himself, as if he hadn’t believed her when she said she trusted her friend with Riley. She eschewed the idea as quickly as she thought it. It wasn’t as if Sam had any say or interest in Riley’s welfare beyond that of a casual observer.

Sasha fanned herself theatrically. “Oh, my, you weren’t kidding when you said he was handsome. I don’t blame you for taking him with you today. If you left him behind I might have been inclined to jump his bones myself!”

“Sasha, please!” Erin said, putting a finger to her lips to caution her friend to silence. Sometimes Sasha’s enthusiasm for an idea was simply irrepressible and Erin couldn’t fight the smile that tweaked at her lips. “Besides, Tony would never approve.”

She didn’t for one minute think that Sasha would cheat on her husband. Her friend was very happily married but, as she’d pointed out more than once, she wasn’t blind.

“How are you going to manage with the gorgeous Sam for your trip into town?” Sasha asked as they entered the sitting room before picking Riley up for a cuddle.

“It won’t be a problem. He needs some stuff from the office supply store so I’m leaving him there. It’s just across the road from the lawyers. He said he’ll wait for me until I’m done.”

“Did you notice something familiar about him?” Sasha asked. “I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Familiar? No. Maybe you’ve seen him in the papers or something. I believe he’s some high-flying businessman in San Francisco, but he’s here on some kind of sabbatical to write a book.”

“Hmm, you could be right. Ah well, it’ll come to me if it’s important. You should go and get yourself ready if you’re going to leave on time,” Sasha urged. “Riley will be just fine with me.”

“Thanks, Sash,” Erin said. Satisfied that Riley was in safe hands, Erin shot through to her bedroom to change her clothes and get ready.

As she dressed, she thought about how grateful she was for her friend’s help. She wanted her wits about her for the meeting this morning, so not having the distraction of Riley there was a relief. Talking about the problems with the fertility clinic would be hard enough without having her beautiful, perfect son in front of her to remind her how much she stood to lose.

Sam drummed his fingers on the desk in his office, staring out at the tranquil bay beyond and wondering about the contents of the letter Erin had written to his lawyers. He knew exactly what was in the letter that had been sent to Erin, and he’d expected to have heard from his lawyer by now regarding her response. Now, it appeared she’d been dragging her feet over a reply. The knowledge that she’d been taking her time to write back when she could simply have called them on the phone or sent an email, lit a slow simmering anger inside of him.

Did she not care at all that Riley might have a living father? A man who wanted to love him and be a part of his life just as much as she was? A man who, if the tests checked out, had every right to be? A man who had denied himself the right to have a child, or even to love again, after letting down his wife so badly? That very same man was now faced with the enthralling opportunity to be a father after all, and she was stalling to keep him from it.

All it would take was a cheek swab. He’d already registered his own with the testing laboratory. This waiting around felt interminable. He’d wondered already how it would stand if he’d done the swab of Riley’s cheek himself, when she wasn’t in the room, but he had a suspicion that somewhere along the line her permission would be necessary before the legal eagles would accept such evidence in a bid for any kind of custody.

His fingers curled into a fist of frustration, clenching so tightly his knuckles ached. His lawyers had warned him the process could take more time than he was willing to allow. It was part of the reason he’d hired an investigator to find her and definitely part of the reason why he’d come here. Waiting had never come easy for Sam. He was a results-oriented person and to get results you had to do things. Still, it wasn’t as if he had any other option right now, but to wait. A glance at his watch reminded him that it was time to head downstairs.

Erin waited for him in the lobby. As he did every time he saw her, he felt that familiar tug of temptation and, oh, boy, did she look tempting. She’d changed from her usual jeans and a blouse to a simply tailored navy dress with white piping, one that left her slender arms bare, with a wide neckline that exposed her collarbones. His mouth dried as he imagined tracing those delicate hollows with the tip of his tongue. Swallowing against the dryness and averting his eyes from examining the rest of her body, Sam reached for the front door.

“Shall we go then?” he said.

“Yes, I’m all ready.”

They walked outside to the driveway where she’d parked the all-wheel-drive station wagon a little earlier. The car was much like the one he used to drive before the accident, right down to the color. A cold fist gripped his chest, making it difficult to draw a breath. He hadn’t taken the wheel of a vehicle since that fateful day. In fact, Ray was the only person he’d trusted enough to drive him since the accident. Even then, it had taken several nail-biting months before he’d relaxed enough to sit in the front passenger seat.

A cold sweat broke over his body. This had been a stupid idea. He had no idea what kind of driver Erin was. She could be a speed freak for all he knew. A trickle of moisture ran down his spine.

Oblivious to what was going through his mind, Erin smiled beside him and held up a key ring, offering it to him. “Would you like to drive?”

“Hell no!” he erupted.

She looked taken aback by his short outburst but calmly palmed the keys and went around to the driver’s side of the vehicle. He forced himself to take the necessary final step that would get him to the car door. His hand shook as he reached for the handle, lifting it and pulling the door open. He shouldn’t have suggested he come with her. He should simply have stayed in his room and kept working. But he refused to back down now. he hadn’t gotten where he was today by backing down from challenges—even if the only one challenging him was himself.

Somehow he seated himself in the passenger seat. He scrabbled for the seat belt, yanking it so swiftly the mechanism locked and failed to let him pull the belt out far enough to clip it.

“If you just let it roll back a bit,” Erin suggested, giving him a strange look, “it’ll let you pull it out slowly.”

He gave it another tug, a hard one, and it locked again. To his surprise, Erin leaned across him, her breasts pressing against his arm as she reached around him and her hand settled over his.

“Here,” she said, “like this.”

He forced himself to relinquish his death grip on the seatbelt and allowed her to release the belt before pulling it smoothly across his chest and lap.

“There you go,” she said securing it into the buckle. “All safe.”

Safe? She was kidding right? You were only as safe as the skill set of the next idiot on the road. In his case, he’d been that idiot, and Laura had paid the ultimate price for his arrogance. Sam forced himself to breathe slowly—in through his nose, out through his mouth—and try to relax.

“Thanks,” he said abruptly, his eyes locked on the windshield in front of him.

Erin started the car and eased it into gear, rolling slowly down the driveway. So far, so good, Sam thought, but all sense of safety fled the moment she turned onto the road. He tried to relax his grip on the door’s hand rest, but he failed miserably.

“How long is the trip?” he asked, his voice sounding unnaturally strained, even to his ears.

“Twenty-five minutes or so,” Erin said, her eyes flicking from the rearview mirror and back to the road in front of them again.

Twenty-five minutes. It may as well be a lifetime, Sam thought as she guided the vehicle along the winding road. He had to admit she was a competent driver, not taking any unnecessary risks or taking any of the corners too wide. He could almost kid himself that he was starting to relax until he saw a car start to pull out of a driveway ahead of them. His foot stomped an imaginary brake, the action earning him another cautious sideways glance from Erin but, thankfully, she kept her thoughts to herself.

By the time they reached the office supply store he couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

“Will you be okay if I leave you now?” Erin asked quietly as she got out of the car to stand beside him, one small hand resting on his forearm as if to offer him comfort.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, thanks,” he said stoically.

“There’s a café right there,” she said, pointing to a bustling business not far from where she’d parked. “And I’ll be just down the road. Do you want my cell number, in case you need me?”

Need her? He hadn’t been able to stop wanting her since the moment he’d set foot on the soil of Connell Lodge, but need her? No, he didn’t want to need anybody.

“No, seriously, I’ll be fine. When you’re finished just come and get me at the café. I’ll buy you a coffee before we head back.”

“Sure, sounds like fun,” Erin said. “I won’t be far, anyway,” she continued, pointing to a two-story white building farther down the street.

Sam made out the signage at the front. Morin and Morin, Attorneys at Law. She was going to see a lawyer? What exactly did that mean? Was she going to try and fight his right to find out if he was Riley’s father? All sorts of irrational and angry thoughts peppered his mind as he watched her head down the road and enter the building she’d indicated.

He slipped his cellphone from his pocket and hit the speed dial for his lawyer’s direct line.

“Dave,” he said the moment he heard the man’s voice on the end of the phone. “I want you to get a court order to request the baby’s DNA, now.”

“Good morning to you, too, Sam,” David Fox’s amused voice echoed in his ear. “I thought we decided on a softer approach first time around, to gauge if the other party would enter discussions and testing willingly. You know, avoid potentially antagonizing the woman who might just be your baby’s mother? The woman you probably don’t really want to alienate?”

“I know,” Sam said, huffing out a breath of frustration. “But I don’t want to wait any longer. I want the tests done and I want those answers now.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the lawyer replied, his voice now all solemnity. Maybe he finally understood how serious Sam was.

“Good, call me when you have news.”

Sam disconnected the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket. So, Erin Connell thought she could fight him. Well, she was in for a fight all right.




Four


As the receptionist showed Erin into the office, Janet Morin rose from the seat behind her desk and extended a hand.

“Erin, lovely to see you. How’s Riley doing?”

“Great, thanks. Growing like a weed,” Erin said and smiled in response. “And Amy? How is she?”

“The same.” Janet laughed. “Sometimes I regret that I made the decision to come back to work so soon, but I know staying home with her full-time would have driven me stir-crazy! Splitting the days at home versus in the office between my husband and me has been working out wonderfully. This way, we have the best of both worlds.”

Janet’s husband, the other half of Morin and Morin, shared child care duties. Erin envied them their sense of unity. While James had looked forward to being a father, he’d made it clear from the outset that he wouldn’t be hands-on until their baby was old enough to talk. She’d wondered if he might change his position once Riley was born, but on consideration she’d rejected the thought. Older than her by fifteen years, James had been so set in his ways he’d barely coped with the change in routine caused by marriage and sharing decision-making relating to the business. When it came to his child, he probably would have done exactly as he’d said.

Janet gestured to Erin to take a seat and settled back behind her desk.

“Tell me, what brings you here? I have to admit I was a bit curious. Don’t you use the Connell family lawyers?”

Erin felt her gut clench and she forced herself to relax and breathe evenly. “Yes, we do. For the lodge, anyway. But this is of a more personal nature.”

She briefly outlined the situation, thankful that Janet was already aware about the circumstances relating to Riley’s conception.

“The clinic is admitting liability?” Janet asked when Erin finished speaking.

“I’m not sure, but I understand they’ve been closed down.” She reached into her handbag. “This is the letter I was sent.”

Janet took it from her and sat back, reading it carefully. “Seems a reasonable enough request,” she commented, giving Erin a piercing look.

“James is Riley’s father.” He has to be, Erin amended silently.

“Let’s prove it then. If it turns out that this Party A is Riley’s father, I imagine you will want to know ahead of time exactly where you stand, right?”

“Yes.” Erin exhaled on a breath before drawing in a new one. “About payment—”

“Let’s not worry about that unless it looks as if we have to go to court on any of this, okay?”

Tears sprang to Erin’s eyes. “Are you sure, Janet?”

“Of course I’m sure. I know you’ve had it tough,” Janet said empathetically. “We’re friends, right? Custody issues are not my specialty, but I will do more research for you. It might take me a while to get around to it because I have a rather full few days ahead, but I’ll do what I can and call you, okay?”

“Thank you so much.”

“Now, let’s make sure we have all our details right,” Janet said, reaching for a pen and paper and starting to make notes.

Erin answered Janet’s questions as best she could even though the prospect of having to share custody with Riley terrified her. Rationally, she knew that if James wasn’t her baby’s father that Riley’s biological father should have some right to his son’s life. But emotionally…well, that was another story.

As a girl who’d grown up with nothing and who’d run away from home at sixteen to escape a mother who wished she’d never been born, Erin had fought hard to be where she was now—to have what she had now. And she’d gone through hell and back to have her baby boy. He was hers—heart and soul—and she’d do whatever she had to do to keep it that way.

An hour later, Erin slid her sunglasses on her face as she exited the building. She wished it were as easy to walk away from the glaring fear that held her stomach in a tight knot as it was to walk away from the building. At least she knew that Janet was taking steps to protect her and her son.

While Janet had agreed that her request for more information from the other party’s lawyers was a way of stalling things, she felt it might carry more weight if the request came from her, acting as Erin’s lawyer. She’d also recommended that Erin instigate her own testing to prove James was Riley’s father.

This, of course, engendered its own problems. Janet had called an independent laboratory that would courier a testing kit to Erin overnight. All she apparently needed was a strand of James’s hair, or even an old toothbrush of his, together with a mouth swab from Riley. That would allow the lab to extract enough DNA to prove paternity.

Swabbing Riley’s mouth would be the easy part, but finding something of James’s, that was another story. He’d made it clear when he knew he was dying that he didn’t want her to hang on to his things unnecessarily. Respecting his wishes, after he’d passed she’d donated his clothes to a shelter and distributed specific possessions to his friends as he’d requested. His more personal effects had been boxed up to give to Riley when he was old enough to start asking about his dad. But even if she got them out now, she doubted she’d find anything among his photo albums and awards from which DNA could be extracted.

She thought for a moment of the silver-backed clothes brush that she’d also packed away. A family heirloom that dated back to his great-grandfather, the original Connell of Connell Lodge, she’d carefully wrapped it in acid-free tissue and put it in the box with James’s other things. She couldn’t remember ever seeing James use the brush, but maybe there would be a stray hair still locked within its bristles.

Satisfied she had a starting point, Erin walked toward the café where Sam had said he’d wait for her. She cast a quick look at her watch and groaned inwardly at the time. He had been waiting quite a while. Hopefully he was a patient man, although somehow that particular description wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when she thought of him.

And she did think of him. A lot. Her guest had worked his way into her thoughts with next to no effort on his part. Into her thoughts and into her dreams at night. It was unsettling. She was still so newly a widow. She shouldn’t be having feelings for another man like she was. But as hard as she fought against the attraction, there was a part of her that relished every moment with him. Awake or asleep.

In the dark of night she’d tried to rationalize everything. She’d gone a long time without intimacy, so it was only natural that she’d miss it. Sam was the first man she’d spent any significant time with since James’s death. And even when James was alive, before he got sick, their relationship had not been sensual or physically satisfying for a while.

She and James had begun to grow apart long before they’d won the lottery run by the IVF clinic that gave them the chance to finally have a child. Trying to conceive had turned the focus of their marriage into a constant round of temperature charts and cycles and performance on command.

It was no wonder, really, that two years ago James had sought comfort in another woman’s arms. When, almost a whole year later, Erin had discovered his infidelity, he’d lain the blame firmly at her feet. According to him, she’d destroyed every last moment of spontaneity in their marriage with her obsessive quest to become a mother. Of course he’d sought a simple, uncomplicated affair with someone who only craved his company and made no other demands upon him.




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