Lies and Consequences

Lies and Consequences By Tatiana March

Resplendence Publishing, LLC http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC 2665 S Atlantic Avenue, #349 Daytona Beach, FL 32118 Lies and Consequences Copyright © 2011, Tatiana March Edited by Darlena Cunha and Liza Green Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-267-9 Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Electronic release: March, 2011 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Damn. Christina Miller hobbled down the muddy track, cursing her ambition to scoop the first ever interview with Lucas Frost. So what, if the man was some kind of genius who’d just invented a gadget to administer drugs? Anyone who lived on a lake in the middle of nowhere deserved nothing but mosquitoes and oblivion. But instead, Lucas Frost had every pharmaceutical company in the world throwing millions at him. Mopping raindrops from her face, Christina squinted into the darkness. Her rental car stood stranded two miles back, her ankle hurt like hell, and despite what it said on the label, her poplin coat was not waterproof. She gritted her teeth and stumbled on. It couldn’t be far now. Once she knocked on the door and did her damsel in distress act, no man would turn her away. Her long dark curls, her big brown eyes, and her hourglass figure took care of that. So what if Lucas Frost had ignored her telephone calls. When she arrived in person, her wet clothes clinging in strategic places, he’d answer her questions. Christina counted upon that. She needed a big story. She hadn’t had a scoop in two years, and at this point having put her career before her personal life was beginning to look like a bad bet. An expanse of water glinted ahead. With a renewed burst of energy, Christina made her way to the lakeshore and scanned left and right. Where the heck was the house? The only structure in sight was a rickety jetty with an ancient boat floating at the end. The stink of fish drifted at her through the downpour. Muttering a stream of curses, Christina clipped along the jetty in her high heels. Darkness had grown solid now, the forest like a wall behind her. Damn. When the track forked a mile ago, she ought to have gone left instead of right. With an angry huff, she surveyed the boat. It was bigger than she’d thought at first glance, with a square cabin jutting up in the middle.

Any shelter would do now. In the morning, she could find the house, or try again to get a signal on her cell phone. She clambered aboard and descended the three narrow steps to try the cabin door. The sturdy panel creaked open on protesting hinges. Ducking beneath the frame, Christina entered and groped her way through the pitch-black space. Hard edge of a table on the right. A bunk with a thin mattress on the left. She patted the springy surface with both hands and crawled up on the bed, until she collided with a long object. A bundle of canvas. She heaved the obstacle to the floor to make space and stretched out beneath the rough blanket that smelled of damp. It crossed her mind that there might be a candle somewhere, and she had matches in her tote bag, but she was too tired to care. With the last of her strength, she shrugged out of her wet trench coat and kicked off her shoes, wishing she’d worn jeans instead of a tight little skirt. Then she closed her eyes and slept. **** Bile rose in her throat, and the world spun. Christina cracked her eyes open. Circular shafts of sunlight streamed in through the twin portholes. Lacquered wood curved above her, and a putt-putt noise filled her ears. She scrambled to her feet and braced her hands against the swaying walls as she tested her injured ankle. The pain was gone. Struggling to hold down the nausea, she rushed up the narrow steps and bent over the side. “Who the fuck are you, and where the hell did you come from?” a deep voice rumbled behind her. “Uh?” Christina straightened, listlessly wiping her mouth. A bulky man stood at the tiller, dressed in worn jeans and a filthy sweater. His wavy brown hair blew in the wind. He scowled at her, his rugged features like a thundercloud. “You’ve got ten seconds to answer before I throw you overboard.” “I…” Christina clamped her lips together, whirled, and heaved again. “Jesus,” the man said. “It’s almost a millpond.” Groaning, Christina sank to the bench that circled the inside of the boat. She watched as the man shook his head, then secured the wheel with a rope loop. His broad back filled the doorway as he disappeared into the cabin. He reappeared in seconds, carrying a plastic cup filled with water. He passed it to her and opened his fist to offer her a white tablet.

“What is it?” she rasped, plucking the tablet from his palm. “It’s not a date rape drug, if that’s worrying you.” He swept his gaze over her and gave a lopsided smile. “You’d be in no state to resist anyway, if that was on my mind.” She stared at him, trying to draw deep breaths, aware that he was an attractive man but too distressed to care. A groan escaped her throat. Her stomach cramped, already empty, but the hollow space inside her kept turning upside down. “It’s a seasick tablet,” he told her, gentler now. “Take it. It’s fast acting.” Christina tossed the tablet into her mouth and took a gulp of water, tilting her head back in an effort to keep the liquid down. “That’s it,” the man said. “Breathe deeply, and pick a spot on the horizon to look at.” She searched the lake ahead. “There’s nothing to look at. Only water.” “Pick a spot of water.” He returned to the wheel. Christina closed her eyes and slumped against the edge of the boat. Her stomach seemed to be settling. The fresh breeze dissipated the stink of fish, and even the engine noise had faded to a dull drone. “So,” the man said. “Who the fuck are you, and where the hell did you come from?” “Who are you, and where did you come from?” “I asked first. And this is my boat, so I’ll do the asking.” He stood with his feet braced apart, muscular legs straining inside the faded jeans. He’d pushed the sleeves of the sweater up to his elbows, baring strong forearms. In addition to being handsome in a blatantly masculine way, he seemed dependable and honest. Christina took pride in having an instinct for people. It was an important aspect of her job as a journalist specializing in human-interest stories. She’d give it try. Her face might be a mess, and she was guaranteed to have bits of puke clinging to her hair, but she’d grab a few minutes to sort that out later. Glancing down, she checked her clothing. Her short grey skirt was hiked up against the bench, and her white shirt had pulled out of the waistband, giving her a lost little girl look. The top buttons on her shirt had popped open, but that might give her an added advantage. “I need help,” she said softly. “Will you help me?” She pursed her lips and peered at the man from beneath her lashes.

“Sure,” he said easily. “I’ll help you, if it doesn’t put me out of my way. But first I want to know who the fuck you are, and how the hell you came to be on my boat.” “Do you know where Lucas Frost lives?” The man snapped to attention, and then appeared to relax. “Sure,” he said. “He lives in the big house at the end of the bay.” He twisted around and pointed. “It’s too far now, but close by you can see all the communications gear. Satellite receivers. The house is shielded behind a copse of trees.” “I want you to take me there.” “I’m going fishing,” the man said bluntly. Christina leaned forward and tried to look vulnerable. “You promised you’d help me.” “Only if it didn’t put me out of my way.” “Please.” She dropped her voice to a husky murmur. “It’s very important to me.” “And fishing’s real important to me.” He sent her an impatient frown. “Your ten seconds were up long ago. Either you tell me right now how you got on my boat, or you’ll swim ashore.” He cocked a heavy brow. “I assume you can swim. Otherwise you’ve got a problem.” Christina gave up on the charm and glared at the man. “My car broke down, and I twisted my ankle and got lost. It was raining, so when I came across your boat, I took shelter.” She lifted her chin in a defiant gesture. “How was I to know you’d turn up and hijack me?” The man tensed. “You slept the night on my bunk?” “Yes.” She shifted her shoulders to get more comfortable against the side of the boat. “What’s the big deal about that?” He stood still for a few seconds then broke into a grin. “I thought the sail felt a bit lumpier than normal.” “The sail?” An awful realization crystallized in her mind. She recalled waking up during the night, shivering with cold, and then a lovely heat had surrounded her. She had drifted back into a sleep so peaceful that she’d barely stirred, unlike at home, where she usually tossed and turned half the night. “There’s a folding mast on top of the cabin. I store the rolled-up sail on the bed.” The man contemplated her with a wry smile. “I guess you did a pretty good impersonation, since I didn’t even notice. Mind you, I was shattered. I’d gone three days without rest.” “Why?” Christina asked sharply, her nose following the scent of a possible story.

“Never mind,” the man said. “I’ll ask the questions.” He swept a glance over her and gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Lumpy?” Christina muttered. “Your body isn’t exactly cylindrical in shape.” Now they were getting somewhere! She squared her shoulders and leaned forward to give the man a glimpse down her front. “I’m a journalist. I want to interview Lucas Frost. He has a press conference scheduled for Sunday. If I can interview him beforehand and get the story in the morning edition, it will be a tremendous scoop.” “Why do you want to interview him?” “I’m a freelance journalist. If I don’t sell stories, I don’t eat.” “I meant, what do you want to interview him for?” “Don’t you know anything? He’s invented a gadget worth millions, and he’s a hermit. Lives in total seclusion.” She shook her head in frustration. “Nobody has any information on him. I haven’t even got a photo. He’s bound to be a nerd. If he is good looking, the story will be worth ten times as much.” “Is Lucas Frost expecting you?” Christina picked at a fraying end of a coiled rope. “Not exactly.” “What? Like expecting you, but not at a specific time?” “No.” She wriggled against the bench. “Like, not expecting me at all.” She threw the man a challenging look. “I told you, he’s a hermit. He doesn’t see anyone, let alone rub shoulders with journalists. But I know that if I can find him, he’ll talk to me.” The man raked another glance over her, from the top of her dark curls to the toes of her scuffed leather pumps. “Maybe you’re right. I guess you can be real persuasive.” Blood rose to her cheeks. So, she did use her feminine assets, she’d be the first to admit that, but people were wrong to believe she traded her favors. She dangled the bait, but she never, ever followed through. If men were stupid enough to act on temptation, it was their problem, not hers. Christina rose to her feet. She steadied her stance on the swaying deck and laid her hand on the man’s muscled forearm. “Will you take me to his house?” “What?” He gave her a frown before turning to concentrate on the lake ahead. “Help you trespass on a reclusive guy’s property after he’s made it clear he doesn’t want to see you?”

“It’s not like that.” “It’s exactly like that,” he said firmly. Then he spun the wheel until the boat jolted, sending Christina to flop back on the bench with a thud that stung her buttocks. Gathering herself from the inelegant sprawl, she surveyed the stranger in silence. His wavy brown hair had faded to gold at the tips, and tired lines furrowed his face. Despite her anger, a sense of empathy swept over Christina as she suspected that they shared the problem of long hours and ill-slept nights. She guessed the man was close to forty, but it could be that exhaustion made him seem older than his true years. His appearance gave no indication of how he earned his living, but his clothing spoke of poverty. “I’ll pay you,” she said. “A hundred dollars to take me to the house of Lucas Frost.” He pursed his lips, not even looking at her. “No deal.” “How much?” “I’m not interested in your money. I’m going fishing.” “You ought to grab every dollar,” she said petulantly. “You could do with some new clothes, and your boat could do with a good scrub.” “It’s good enough for me.” “Come on. You can go fishing tomorrow. I’ll give you two hundred.” The pleading tone in her voice had become real. This was meant to be the one, the scoop that got her name on the page again, made people remember her, so that they’d dig up her business card from the clutter in their desk drawers and dial her number when they commissioned rags-to-riches sagas, or accounts of miracle survivals, or features on celebrity sibling rivalry. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.” The man surveyed the lake ahead. “If you interview Lucas Frost tomorrow, will you still make the morning papers on Sunday?” “Yes, as long as I get the copy in on time.” “All right,” he said calmly. “I’ll take you to his house tomorrow, provided you’ll sleep with me tonight.” “What?” Indignation exploded in her gut. “You’re joking, right?” she added after a full ten seconds of stunned silence. “No.” He turned to her, and he wasn’t smiling. “You asked what it would take for me to interrupt my fishing, and I gave you the answer.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She scowled at him. The suspicion that he was mocking her for the way she’d tried to use her feminine charms on him threw fuel on the flames of her anger. The man pulled a lever to cut the engine. “I’ve never spent a night in bed with a woman before and not made love to her. You’ll ruin my track record.” “I wouldn’t call that platform with a filthy mattress and a scratchy blanket a bed.” “You’ll find it’s a hell of a lot better than sleeping on deck, which is where you’ll be tonight.” He studied the sky. “It’ll rain again.” Christina leapt to her feet, grabbing the edge of the boat to maintain her balance against the bobbing waves. She had to remain hunched down, since the only support tall enough to hold on to while standing upright was the man, and no way would she lay a finger on him again. “Take me back to the shore this very minute,” she demanded. “Otherwise I’ll report you for kidnapping.” He leveled his eyes at her, and through a break in the clouds the sun lit the blue in them. Despite her fury, a jolt of attraction rippled through her. “You crept on my boat without permission, and you’re stuck on it until I’m ready to go back.” The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I hope you’ve got some food, because I only brought enough for one, and I don’t intend to starve.” “I. Don’t. Have. Any. Food.” She forced out the words through clenched teeth. “Hmm.” The man turned his back on her to release a crank-handle that rattled an anchor on a steel chain down into the rippling waves. He spoke quietly, almost to himself. “This should be interesting. What will you do when that empty stomach of yours begins to scream with hunger?”

Chapter Two

By mid-morning the clouds had dispersed and the wind had dropped. The air sweltered with a sticky August heat. Christina tried to take refuge in the cabin, but despite the calm waters, another bout of motion sickness struck her in the confined space. Reluctantly she returned outside. At least with the engine switched off the noise had ceased, and her lungs didn’t choke with diesel fumes. The man sat on a low platform at the end of the boat, dangling his feet in the water and doing disgusting things with a small steel hook and a can full of maggots. He had discarded his sweater, exposing large biceps and a torn T-shirt, but he’d kept on his jeans, merely rolling up the legs. Christina fidgeted, trying not to look at him even though he was the only attractive object around. It seemed impossible to find a comfortable position against the hard bench, no matter how much she squirmed and wriggled. It was her bad luck to be stuck on a floating crate, instead of a cruiser with facilities. “Excuse me,” she called out. “How do I go to the bathroom?” There was a long pause before the man replied, and she got the distinct impression that he resented being reminded of her existence. “Figure it out,” he shouted out in the end. “What?” “Over the edge, but try not to hit the side of the boat.” “I can’t,” she cried. “The edges are too high.” The deck swayed as the man climbed up. He strode past her and carried on into the cabin. “Here,” he said when he returned. A red bucket smelling of fish was proffered at her.

Christina peered inside and wrinkled her nose. “Is it clean?” “Jesus.” His thick brows arched. “You’re not going to eat from it, are you?” She snatched the container from him. “Some of us are more particular about our personal hygiene than others.” He shrugged. “It’s either the bucket, or learn to do it standing up.” “Where do I go?” She looked around the small vessel. “You don’t go pissing in my cabin, that’s for sure. You might miss the bucket, if the boat hits a wave.” “There’s nowhere else private.” He sighed. “You think I want to watch?” He turned his back on her and descended to the ledge, raising his voice as the distance between them grew. “I might have my fantasies, but watching a woman crouch to piss isn’t one of them.” Christina surveyed the cramped deck. There was nowhere she could escape the view of his tawny head and broad shoulders. If he turned around, he’d observe her in the midst of a very private act. “Excuse me,” she yelled. “What is it now?” “Can you lean down, so that you’re out of sight?” He swore, but his shoulders dipped. Christina hurried to squat over the bucket. The noise of the stream hitting the plastic sounded as loud as the roar of a jet plane, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “What do I do with this?” she shouted after she’d yanked her skirt back down again. She checked her shirt to make sure all her buttons were securely done up, right up to her chin. She would have put on her raincoat, but it was too hot. “Hand it to me.” The head and shoulders emerged again, and an arm reached out to her. “No.” Christina pulled the sloshing basin protectively closer to her body. “What is it now? You think I’m some kind of kinky bastard who gets turned on by sniffing your pee?” He glowered at her. “I’m just going to toss it over the side.” “Why can’t I do it?” “Because urine’s acidic. You’ll risk getting half of it on the side of the boat and it will ruin the lacquer. If you give it to me, I can tip it out neatly.”

She handed the bucket to the man and watched as he emptied and rinsed it. “If you lift up the bench on the right, there’s storage underneath,” he said when he passed the empty bucket back to her. The heavy wooden lid sprung open with effort. She found some space on the left, and wedged the bucket on top of a pile of life jackets. At the other end, an enormous white cool box stood next to a grey plastic crate filled with canned food, topped by two big loaves of granary bread. She unclipped the catches on the cooler and peeked inside. Beer, milk, cheese, pastrami, tuna salad, potato salad, fruit, and plenty of ice to keep everything fresh. Her stomach twisted with hunger, but fear of seasickness kept temptation at bay—for now. As she secured the top of the cool box and returned to slump on the bench, she accepted the inconvenient truth that before long she’d become desperate for food. **** Christina looked at her watch. Ten minutes later, she looked again, and the next time it was only five minutes since she had last looked. Gradually, the interval shrank to one minute. “Excuse me, how long are you going to keep me kidnapped?” she shouted. “You’re free to swim ashore any time you like.” She huffed. “I can’t even see the shore properly. I wouldn’t know which way to go, even if I could swim that far.” “The wind’s from the east. Just follow the waves.” She sat up and leaned over the end of the boat, propping her chin over her crossed forearms to study the man perched on the ledge below. He’d paused to remove his T-shirt, and her eyes lingered on the broad back and heavy shoulders. An aura of quiet strength surrounded him, like the promise of a safe harbor in a turbulent world. It crossed the mind that it might be easier to sleep at night, if a man like that shielded her in the warmth of his body. With a sigh she tried to dismiss the thought. But the idea clung, and a sudden regret pressed in her chest as she considered her lonely life, the total dedication she’d given to her dream of becoming a star biographer. She had set out to be the woman who saw behind public facades, bared the souls of statesmen and rock stars and sporting heroes. Instead, her days were filled with trivia and her nights with research for some great story idea that no other writer had stumbled upon.

Her relationships had never lasted long enough for her to call a man her own, and now the need to experience that kind of belonging tugged inside her. What would it be like, to have someone who listened to her woes without judging? Even if he couldn’t make her problems go away, he could wrap his arms around her and promise that tomorrow would be better. And she would want to believe him. Stop. Christina shook her head. What useless daydreams was she letting her mind drift into? She’d given ten years of her life to the ambition of becoming a star journalist and biographer. If she gave up now, all those years would be wasted, thrown away. “Do you have anything to read?” she called out, seeking a distraction. “A stack of porn, and there should be a bible somewhere.” Her brows knitted into a frown. “Don’t you have anything in between?” “Nope.” She inched forward to see him better. Perspiration darkened the hair at the nape of his neck and glinted in droplets on the curve of his shoulders. Muscles flexed in his arm as he reached forward to adjust the fishing rod. The air suddenly felt hotter, as if the sun had multiplied its force in the sky. “Which one did you read last?” Christina asked, a little breathless. He didn’t seem to notice. “What, porn or bible?” “Yeah.” “Neither. I don’t read when I fish. Someone else left them.” “Who?” “My Mom left the bible, and my Pop left the girlie magazines.” The rush of attraction that had overwhelmed her changed its texture. The sudden flare of sexual heat gave way to a wistful longing to know more about the little boy he’d been, and how life had shaped him into the man she saw today. “Did they take you fishing when you were little?” she asked. He glanced up over his shoulder. “What’s this, an interview?” Her lips curved, as much in confusion over her reaction as in amusement. “Just passing the time,” she told him lightly. He sighed and turned back to face the water. “Should’ve guessed you’d ruin my peace.”

She surveyed the single bamboo rod. “I thought there’d be more action in fishing. Throwing and reeling, and all that.” “Not my kind of fishing. I don’t fish for sport.” “What do you fish for then?” “Meditation.” He threw another glance at her. “And I’d be real grateful if you let me get on with it.” “There’s no way you’re going to catch any fish like that,” she said as she pulled back. “Good,” he called out. “Why?” she shouted as she stretched down on the bench. “Because I don’t like cruelty to animals.” But you sure know how to annoy a girl, she thought as she closed her eyes. **** Christina tried to doze, but her nerves got the better of her, keeping her awake and on edge. Her muscles ached, and the sun hurt her eyes, and her stomach lurched between hunger and nausea. She got up to fetch her tote bag from the cabin and inventoried the contents, but found little to pass the time. Her tape recorder had a radio, but she didn’t want to run down the batteries, in case she managed to track down and interview Lucas Frost later. Her cell phone didn’t pick up a signal, and although she had a shorthand pad, she felt too distracted to work on story ideas. The most valuable item among the clutter in her bag turned out to be a small black toilet bag. It contained a miniature toothbrush and toothpaste—priceless if she ended up stuck on the boat for another night. There was also a scarlet lipstick, but she decided not to waste any of it for the benefit of her surly companion. Bristling with impatience, she glanced at her watch. Only two in the afternoon, but she was sure the damn thing had developed a fault and kept stopping. Time couldn’t possibly tick by that slowly. Risking another bout of nausea, she went downstairs to search the cabin. No bible, but under the bunk she located a sagging cardboard box filled with tattered copies of Playboy. She selected one and flicked through the pages crinkled with damp. Her eyes fell over a column of text. After a few minutes of reading, she quickly discarded the magazine

back in the box. Despite the privacy of the cabin, her face flushed with embarrassment at how she’d given the hero of the explicit scene the rugged features of her kidnapper. Alarmed by her thoughts, she returned to the deck and focused on going out of her mind with boredom. While she quietly seethed, the man climbed up for an occasional bottle of beer or a can of soda, and twice she heard the unmistakable sounds of a spray hitting the water. Apart from those brief interruptions, he sat on the ledge and fished, and half the time Christina was sure he didn’t even bother to bait the hook at the end of his rod. He was a lazy bastard, who wasn’t really fishing at all. He probably just needed an excuse to get away from his wife. The idea filled her with a restless curiosity. “Hey,” she called out, lying on her back, her face hidden under the fraying straw hat she’d found hanging on a nail in the cabin. “What’s your name?” “Took you a long time to ask,” he rumbled back. “I didn’t want to pry.” His voice turned gruff. “Let’s leave it like that then.” “Do you have a wife?” She heard a thud, and when she shunted the straw hat out of her eyes, she saw him leaning in over the back of the boat, his arms braced along the edge, and she knew that he’d jumped up to stand on the rear ledge. “Let’s get this straight,” he said. “I asked you to sleep with me. That means I don’t have a wife, a fiancée, a girlfriend. Hell, I don’t even have a dog or a cat.” He scowled at her. “If I had a woman in my life, you’d have been off this boat quicker than it takes to spell temptress.” “I’m not a slut,” she blustered, rising up to a sitting position on the hard bench. She cast a quick glance down her front to make sure her buttons remained securely done up. “No one said you were. You parade your charms, but it’s clear that if a man dares as much as to touch, you’ll hack off his wrist.” “And I bet you think you’re God’s gift. A big stud, with a body you’ve spent hours honing in the gym.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nope. Paid my way through college by working in a logging camp. The rest is just a bit of maintenance a couple of times a week to offset an indoor job.”

College? Indoor job? So, he wasn’t a laborer struggling to pay the bills. She swept her gaze over the threadbare clothes. Was he too poor to replace them, or didn’t he give a damn about appearances? Stop. She wasn’t interested in knowing anything about him. “What do you do for a living?” Christina asked, unable to curb her curiosity. He dropped out of her line of sight. “I don’t talk about work when I’m fishing.” I don’t have a wife, a fiancée, a girlfriend. The words echoed in her mind. Irritably, Christina shrugged her shoulders. What the hell did she care? Once she got back on dry land, she’d never have to think of him again. **** The sun had slowly traversed the sky and now dipped in the west. Hunger gnawed in her stomach, and for the last hour, Christina had thought about nothing but food. She trusted the man to have enough charity to offer to share when he stopped to eat, but the jerk had fished all day, never once coming up for anything, except for another beer. She’d be damned if she humiliated herself by begging. That’s what he was doing no doubt—waiting for her to get so hungry that she’d trade her body for a slice of bread. Well, she’d had it with starving. It was time for the ship’s crew to mutiny. Christina unfolded her legs and tiptoed across the deck. Stealthy, silent, she opened the storage compartment and unclipped the lid on the cool box. Her mouth watered as she inspected the contents. What would be quick and easy, and draw the least attention? The cellophane around the bread would make rustling sounds, and the tuna salad would smell. A banana would be ideal, but she’d have to find somewhere to discard the skin. As she reached into the box, a heavy thump and the sway of the boat alerted her. She bolted upright. Her back crashed into a solid wall of muscle. She let out a scream and ducked to escape, but a strong pair of arms curled around her. “Easy,” the man murmured. Heart pounding, she struggled against his hold. “You scared me.” “Damn right I did.” He clutched her to his broad chest. “Guilty conscience makes people jittery. You were caught in the act of breaking and entering into my stores.”

Christina tried to wriggle free, but the man caged her in. There was something gentle about the pressure of his arms. She got the impression that he was aware of his strength and hesitated over how much force he could apply without hurting her. “I am starving,” she confessed. “If I don’t get something to eat soon, I’m going to faint. Then you’ll have to interrupt your fishing and take me back to the shore, so it’s in your best interest to feed me.” “If you’re hungry, all you need to do is to ask.” His breath brushed against her cheek as he leaned down to speak the words softly into her ear. She twisted around to look at him, acutely aware of his naked skin against her back. The way he held her enveloped her with heat, almost making her forget the hunger that flexed its sharp claws in her empty stomach. “You said you only have enough for one.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “A little thing like you can’t eat that much. I can spare enough to keep you from starving to death.” Suddenly, her legs seemed unsteady, her breathing too swift. Hunger, Christina decided. She was dizzy from lack of food. “I think I need to sit down,” she told him. “You’re weak after being seasick this morning. I’m sorry, I ought to have realized and looked after you better.” He leaned down to slip one arm beneath her knees and scooped her up, cradling her high against his bare chest. Crossing the deck with two surefooted steps, he lowered her on the wooden bench. “Here.” He found the jumper he’d peeled off earlier, folded it into a pillow and slipped the bundle under her head. “Are you all right? Do you need a drink?” “What’s going on?” Christina followed him with suspicious eyes. “You’ve turned kind all of a sudden. What are you up to?” “I was on edge this morning. It’s been a rough week.” He shifted his shoulders, looking awkward, as if wanting to apologize for his behavior but not quite managing the words. “And there are two things to make a man go soft. A vulnerable woman, or a woman crying.” She heaved out a sigh. “If I’d known, I’d have shed a few tears earlier.” “Wouldn’t have worked.” A wry smile hovered around his mouth. “It has to be real, not some hard-luck act.”

He disappeared into the cabin and came back with a small folding table. In a few minutes, he’d laid out selection of food. They ate in silence. Christina kept stealing glances at him as she tried to control her urge to gorge on the thick slabs of bread heaped with chicken salad. An idea took root in her mind, and however hard she fought to ignore it, the thought gained strength, until her hands grew so unsteady that the sandwich almost fell from her grip. If you sleep with me tonight. She shook her head, but the image of their naked bodies twined together refused to go away. The man had the air of someone slow and thorough. All day, he had fished. Would he apply that same patience to making love—take his time, focus on pleasing a woman, prepared to wait for the rewards that would be his at the end? With a start, Christina jolted out of her fantasy. The man had said something, but she’d been too preoccupied to listen. Blushing, she lifted her brows and made a questioning sound. “I’ll fish a couple more hours.” He sent her a puzzled look, then glanced up into the sky. “I was wrong about the weather. It’s going to be a dry night. You’ll be fine up on deck with a blanket.” Christina cleared away the food and dirty plastic dishes. She settled down on the bench and watched as the man fished on the ledge. When the sun began to cool, the slanting rays turned his torso into molten gold, and his hair into a tousled halo. What did she have in the world? She belonged to no one. Had she become a spectator in life instead of a participant? All of a sudden, loneliness clenched like a fist around her heart. She’d allowed a fierce ambition to drive her since graduate school. Already thirty-two, she’d never once stopped to search for a man who’d be a keeper, and she didn’t even know what the ticking of a biological clock sounded like. Had she been wrong? Success had eluded her, despite hard work and dedication. Was she going to end up alone, embittered by sacrifices that had never paid off? Maybe a different life would be better. What would it be like now, if she’d chosen another path, and they were husband and wife, out for a weekend of fishing, the children at home in the care of grandparents?

The regret inside her exploded into a longing, and the longing grew into an ache. It had been so long since she’d last been held in an embrace, since her body had quickened under the touch of a man. She wanted to belong to someone, even for a fleeting moment. The need to feel the ultimate human closeness blotted out all caution. She leaned against the side of the boat, silently watching her host as he sat on the ledge, appearing relaxed, at peace with himself. What would it be like to have sex with a strong and comforting stranger, who’d take her ashore in the morning and never see her again? Christina closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. As she blinked her eyes open, she caught the man looking at her over his shoulder. In that instant she made up her mind.

Chapter Three

By the time the man emerged on deck, carrying the bamboo rod and an empty can of bait in one hand, the sun was a fiery ball low on the horizon “I’ll sleep outside,” he said. “You can take the cabin. It gets cold on the lake at night.” “No,” she told him. “We’ll share the cabin tonight, and tomorrow morning you’ll take me ashore.” His big frame stiffened, and for a second Christina thought he’d back out, telling her it was a joke. Then he reached out one hand and trailed his fingertips along the curve of her cheek. “You don’t have to do that,” he said softly. “I’ll take you back anyway.” Uncertainty fluttered inside her. “You don’t want to…?” “Don’t be a fool.” His hand fell to his side, where it tightened into a fist. “Of course I do. I’ve been thinking about little else all day.” He shook his head, appearing tense now, like he’d been when he first discovered her aboard. “I didn’t expect you to take me seriously. I was just winding you up, because you were using your beauty to tempt me.” “We made a deal,” she told him, her voice low and hesitant. “You’ll insult me if you don’t go through with it.” His mouth twitched, amusement mixed with uncertainty. “My mother taught me never to insult a lady.” “There you are, then.” Christina tried to smile. “You’ve got no choice.” He lifted his arm again and ran the back of his hand under her chin in a lingering caress. “No. I don’t think I have. Haven’t had from the moment you pressed yourself against me last night.” She stared at him. “You knew I wasn’t a lumpy sail?”

His fingers swept past her breasts, barely touching. “No, I didn’t know. But I had uneasy dreams, and the sail never made my blood race or kept my cock hard all night.” She shook her head. “And I slept better than in my own bed.” He smiled at her in the fading light as he clipped the fishing rod into a pair of hooks by the edge of the boat. Then he held his hand out to her, palm up. The gesture, so open and honest, shattered her last doubts. She laid her hand in his. “Come on,” he said, fingers curling around hers. “Let’s go and be nice to each other.” **** Lucas Frost wondered if he’d lost his mind. He’d listened to the messages the woman journalist kept leaving on his machine, thinking she was a persistent little bugger. When she turned up on his boat, all wide-eyed innocence but strutting her lush little body like a baited hook, it took a while before he believed that she’d truly taken shelter from the rain. Eventually, he had to accept that she had no idea who he was. He’d challenged her to sleep with him in exchange for a ride to his house partly to annoy her, and partly out of curiosity, to see how far she’d go to get her job done. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected her to agree. When she took him up on the deal, it felt as if every cell in his body went up in flames. Crazy. The single word filled his mind now. He’d tried to cling to his sanity during the long hours of the afternoon as he sat fishing, his cock heavy in the confines of his straining jeans. He didn’t get involved with women. He didn’t get involved with people. Period. If he didn’t allow anyone to get close, they couldn’t let him down, and he couldn’t let them down in return. The worst possible mistake for him would be to open up to someone like Christina Miller. A woman so consumed with ambition that she’d harassed him—a complete stranger— with endless telephone messages to get what she needed in order to succeed in her chosen career. He’d had enough of being let down in his childhood. The pain of it would never heal. So, why in hell was he now holding the woman’s slim hand in his and leading her down to the cramped cabin, as though she were some kind of a hidden treasure he’d unearthed?

A sigh of frustration rocked his shoulders. He should have known better. He should have taken her back to the shore the minute he realized he had a stowaway on board. Hell, he should have dumped her in the lake. Anything to get rid of her, and the restlessness she sent crawling beneath his skin, like an infestation of parasites that only had one cure known to mankind—a good dose of sweaty sex. Which would lead to all sorts of complications. But, like a fool, he’d made her stay. Because the moment she’d rushed out from the cabin, seasick and disoriented, the luscious curves of her compact little body spilling out from the plain white shirt, her combination of vulnerability and sexual allure had struck like a harpoon in his gut. The woman must have taken out a patent on the innocent but sexy look. Big brown eyes, with a shadow of uncertainty flickering deep inside. Long strands of curly hair, the kind a man could twine his fingers in, never letting go. The curve of rounded hips, and a pair of breasts jutting out, begging to be touched. He would allow himself to let his guard down, just this once. It would do no harm, provided he kept his identity secret. If she didn’t know who he was, she couldn’t use their time on the boat to intrude into his privacy, and afterward, when she’d inevitably find out, she’d be too embarrassed to hound him for an interview. One night. But as Lucas closed the cabin door behind them to keep the insects out, his heart pounded harder than mere lust would warrant. His gaze roamed her flushed features, the plump mouth, and the wide eyes that refused to meet his. Her calculated charm had been wiped away and replaced with a mix of need and hesitation that only served to heighten her appeal. The risk was there. If he allowed Christina Miller to get too close, just for one night, the price of the fleeting pleasure might be his heart and his peace of mind. **** The cabin felt crowded with both of them standing between the bunk and the rough table, the man’s big body towering over hers. Christina bent her head and began to undress, her fingers clumsy with nerves.

“No,” her captor said, sounding hoarse. “Let me.” One by one, he released her buttons, lingering over each. The fitted white cotton shirt sprung open at the front. Shivers rushed over Christina’s exposed skin. Her breathing quickened as tendrils of excitement unfurled inside her. “You don’t wear a bra?” he murmured, trailing a calloused finger between her breasts. “Normally I do.” She slanted him a rueful glance. “I wanted to make sure I got my interview.” He shook his head in amazement. “What do you know about Lucas Frost that makes you think it mattered?” She shrugged. “He’s a man.” His finger stilled over her skin. “That’s it? He’s a man?” Arching her back, Christina slipped the shirt over her shoulders. “Isn’t that enough?” His finger came alive again, drawing a slow circle around her left breast, then the right. Moving down her side, the feathery touch skimmed to her waist, traversed her body along the waistband of her skirt, then inched up the other side. “A friend of mine’s a designer,” the man said. “He claims that whatever he makes, it will always be second best because there’s no shape in the world more beautiful than the body of a woman.” “Is that what you think too?” Christina murmured, trembling under his touch. “Yes,” he said in a husky whisper, and bent his mouth to her breast. Pleasure jolted through her, so intense it made her cry out, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. He moved to her other breast, and when he finally released her and knelt down in front of her, her legs barely supported her weight. “How does this come off,” he asked, tugging at her skirt. “There’s a zipper on the left,” she told him, husky and breathless. He searched, then pulled down the zipper and released the single button at her waist to slide the short gray skirt past her hips. She stepped out of the circle of fabric and kicked the garment away. He traced his hands up her legs, pausing to explore the sensitive hollow behind her knees. Then he slowly made his way along her thighs, until he reached the edge of her panties.

Christina swallowed, and although desire had flooded every inch of her body at his touch, embarrassment ruled stronger. “I don’t feel clean,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I’ve been wearing the same underwear for two days.” The man blew a soft breath onto her naked belly. “Do you want to go for a swim?” he asked. “The water’s warm.” “Could we? I mean, you’d have to help me off the boat and haul me back in.” He stood up and gently cupped her breasts in his hands. “When you stand there looking like that, I’d do anything you ask. Rob a bank, slay a dragon, sell my soul, marry you and carry you off into the sunset.” “Carrying me off anywhere would be impossible since we’re on a boat,” Christina said, keeping her tone light, although pleasure at his words pulsed in her blood. She wondered if he’d been able to read her mind earlier, when she’d speculated what it would be like to be his wife. The man smiled. “I can’t even carry you up the steps because they’re too narrow.” But he walked close behind her, his hands curled about her waist, guiding her, and he helped her down the steel ladder to the ledge at the end of the boat. Then he spoiled the effect by giving her a tiny shove that tumbled her into the lake where she sank in over her head. “You didn’t ask if I could swim,” she complained after she’d spluttered back to the surface and treaded water, her hands sweeping back and forth in an effort to keep her afloat. The man was nowhere in sight, but a pair of rumpled jeans lay discarded on the ledge. A few seconds later, the calm broke ten yards from the boat, and he reappeared, shaking wet hair from his face. “What did you toss me in for?” Christina cried. He covered the distance between them with a few efficient strokes of his powerful arms through the calm water. “I was too shy to undress in front of you.” She giggled, and almost gulped in water as he jostled her. Her pulse beat with a jittery speed, and the whole experience was beginning to feel unreal, as if she were watching a film of herself, rather than living the moment. “Do you need help with washing?” He slipped his hand inside her panties and tugged the sliver of silk down her legs. “Whatever you do, don’t lose them,” she warned him. “They’re the only pair I have.”

He swam to prop the panties next to his jeans. “Have you ever made love in water?” he asked, low and hesitant. Christina shook her head. The tension inside kept words from forming on her lips. “Neither have I,” the man said. His voice deepened “Want to give it a try?” She floated closer to the boat and clung to the ledge, looking around. Daylight was fading. A swarm of insects danced above the water, and on the distant shore a few scattered lights were beginning to glimmer in the twilight. “I don’t know,” she whispered. He hooked one elbow around the steel hoop that formed a step below waterline at the back of the boat, and wound his other arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Come on,” he murmured into her ear. “A weekend on the lake won’t be complete without it.” She looked at him accusingly. “You said you’ve never done it, and how many weekends have you spent on the lake?” “But never with someone like you.” He tightened his grip until their bodies molded together. Her breasts flattened against his chest and his erection pushed against her stomach. His eyes searched her, and Christina felt her heart thud in heavy beats. Finally, the man’s lips came down to hers, and he explored her mouth in a long kiss that was a searing contrast to the cool water that surrounded them. “How is it even possible?” she breathed when his head lifted. “The marvel about floating in water is that you’re almost weightless.” He wedged his leg between hers and bounced her up and down. Her tender flesh rubbed against the solid muscle as she skimmed along his thigh. “All right,” she whispered. “Show me how.” He lifted her until her shoulders rose out of the water, and with one strong arm he shifted her into position, separating her legs to straddle his hips. “You’ve got to help,” he said, his gaze dark and intense. “I need one hand to keep us afloat.” She reached into the water, until she found him, hard as steel, and for one brief instant she wanted to escape, but then the man began to lower her. She guided him inside, her legs wrapped about his waist as he slowly penetrated her. “See,” he told her in a low voice. “Weightless.” He lifted her up, then slackened his hold to let her down again. He filled her, making her feel wanted and cherished, the loneliness and

sense of futility banished for a fleeting moment. She threw her arms over his shoulders and clung to him, finding her own rhythm of rising and falling in the glorious combination of cool water and hot blood. Waves lapped against the boat as she increased her pace, chasing the tightening inside her. Soon the tension broke. As the shudders of pleasure rolled over her, she threw her head back and cried out, arching in the circle of his arm. When she stilled again, she become aware of the man’s hard breathing that rocked her against his chest. Beneath her palms, she could feel the subsiding shudders of his strong body, and she huddled closer, seeking his warmth. He pressed his lips to her forehead and trailed a line of slow kisses across her face. “Are you cold?” he asked after a moment. “Yes,” she whispered. “But I don’t want to move.” “You’ll have to,” he told her. “My arm is getting tired, and I want to have my turn on the bed.” She gave a chuckle of surprise and floated away, feeling a sense of loss when he slid out of her. “How can you to talk as if you’ve just done me a favor?” He shrugged and grinned. “Call it a sperm donation.” “Oh my God!” Christina forgot to tread water. She sunk in over her head. When the man caught her and yanked her to the surface, she emerged, spluttering with panic. She stared at him, her body going numb. “That’s exactly what you’ve just done,” she told him breathlessly. “Sperm donation.” He stared back at her. “What?” “No condom,” she explained. “Fuck.” He tilted his head back and closed his eyes for a second. “That’s exactly what’s causing the problem.” Christina let out a shaky laugh, borne out of the terror that she knew would rule her life for the next few weeks, until she knew she wasn’t pregnant. “How could we be so irresponsible?” She shook her head in disbelief. His brows drew together. “Aren’t you on the pill?” “Why would I be? I don’t have a boyfriend.” She directed a sharp gaze at him. “You don’t think I’d have done what I just did if I had someone else?”

He pulled her against him in a consoling gesture. “Of course not. And I assure you, you have nothing to worry…you know, health wise.” He released her and helped her out of the water, up to the ledge. “Can you manage the ladder? There are towels on the shelf in the cabin.” “Thanks.” The air was cool now, making her shiver. She clambered up. The joy over the pleasure they had shared faded, leaving her miserable. He would think she was loose and easy, sleeping with a stranger at the drop of a hat, never once stopping to think of the consequences. On the narrow shelf above the bunk in the cabin, Christina found a stack of musty towels. She chose a faded blue one. As she rubbed her skin dry, the color made her think of his eyes. She bit her lip. Damn. If only they were anywhere other than a boat, she’d simply gather her clothes and run, rather than deal with the awkward situation. She heard footsteps outside, and the door opened with a creaking sound. His powerful body dripped water on the floor, and she handed him a towel. The white cloth made an appealing contrast against the tanned skin. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “Please don’t think I did it on purpose. I simply got carried away and forgot about everything. I know you have a right to be angry. If you give me your telephone number, I’ll call to let you know as soon as I find out that I’m in the clear.” “Angry with you?” He lowered the towel and frowned at her. “I’m not angry with you.” She bit her lip to stop it trembling. “You certainly seem to be.” The man took a step closer, until their bodies were only inches apart. “I’m angry at myself for leaving the responsibility to you. I should have thought about it, asked you about birth control, and discussed health concerns.” He reached up and touched the ends of her cascading hair. “There’s a pharmacy a few miles down the road. I could take you there tomorrow morning, and I’m pretty sure we can get the morning-after pill. Would that be all right with you?” She met his eyes, once again startled by the vivid shade of blue, and gave a hesitant nod. “Thousands of your sperm are racing for my egg as we speak.” She managed a wan smile. “If I need emergency contraception anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter if we do it again. Another few thousand sperm won’t make any difference.” “I was hoping you’d say that.” He twirled her around, so that she had her back to him. He gathered up her wet hair and pressed a kiss at the base of her neck. Soon the tender kisses grew hungry. After a while, he halted and murmured at her, his lips brushing her skin. “I spent two

minutes on my own outside going insane, wanting you desperately, but knowing that if you said no, I had no right to argue.” He pulled her against him and roamed her skin with restless hands, sliding up from her waist, past her breasts. The length of their bodies pressed together, and she could feel him hardening against her buttocks. “I simply forgot about contraception,” she whispered. “It’s been a long time since I slept with anyone.” “It’s a compliment to me that you got too carried away to think about practicalities.” Christina laughed. “Typical male behavior to see it as a measure of your sexual prowess.” She knew he hadn’t made the comment out of arrogance, but to help her accept the consequences of her mistake and relax about the situation. He’d succeeded, and she had responded the same way, keeping it light. “Positive attitude’s important,” he said in amused tones. “And it’s crucial to keep warm after a swim.” She turned around in his arms and rubbed herself against him like a cat. “And I’m glad I don’t have to rely on that scratchy blanket alone for a source of heat.” “You don’t.” He pushed her backwards until she tumbled down onto the bed. With a firm but gentle touch, he guided her to stretch out in the narrow space, and covered her body with his. Christina tensed. It had been different in the water—so unreal that she’d felt like a mermaid instead of a human being. Her body had become disconnected from her real self, free to act brazen and wild. Now, panic dispelled the fantasy. The man’s weight pressed her against the thin mattress. His lips burned on her throat, and one of his muscular thighs was nudging her legs apart. “Wait,” she told him, struggling to break free. “I can’t do this.” “Hush,” he murmured against her throat. “You don’t have to do anything at all. Just lie back and let me make love to you.” Christina couldn’t tell if it was the husky soothing voice, or the strong hands that sent off fiery explosions inside her breasts, or hearing the word love, but suddenly all resistance flowed out of her. She fell back on the mattress, gasping for breath.

When he slid inside her, and began a steady rhythm of thrust and recoil that rocked her on the narrow bunk, Christina knew she didn’t want to be loved just this one night. Buried beneath her ambition was a need that had gone unfulfilled for a long time, a need to be loved and held and cherished. She gripped his shoulders and arched up against him, ignoring the red line her nails scraped against his tanned skin, and when the release racked her body, she clutched him tightly, trying to get closer to him. The man reared up and shuddered above her, a harsh groan rising from deep in his chest. When he slumped down and pressed his lips against her throat, Christina lay still under him, blinking back tears, without knowing why she felt so deeply moved. Gradually the man’s breathing grew calm. He shifted his weight above her and withdrew from her. Not saying another word, he rolled over to his side and reached his arms around her. In the darkness of the cabin, with the boat swaying gently in the waves, they twined their bodies together and slept through what remained of the night.

Chapter Four

A brisk breeze sent the boat bobbing in the waves. The bunk rocked, and the circles of light through the portholes danced around the lacquered timber walls. Lucas kept a concerned eye on Christina. He couldn’t stop himself from using her name in his mind, but resolved to remain vigilant not to say it out loud. Christina. He’d heard it on his answering machine enough times to remember. She’d pronounced it carefully, with an inpatient ring to her voice—this is Christina Miller again, could you please call back to confirm a convenient time for me to come out and interview you. He’d deleted her messages. He closed his eyes and searched his brain. From some deep recess, a string of numbers played back at him, and he knew he’d be able to call her. With a reluctant a sigh of relief, Lucas admitted that was what he wanted. Too long, he’d hidden in his lakeside fortress, avoiding all attachments. He’d always told himself that life as a hermit suited him. Urban trivia and human emotions got in the way, distracting him from the precise world of science. Now, he accepted that the price he paid for his peace of mind in the form of emotional isolation was greater than the rewards gained. It was too soon to reveal how he’d misled her. A confession now would risk ruining what they’d shared. He’d wait and strengthen the emotional bonds between them first. He’d reveal the truth to her once the strain of the press conference was out of the way. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked. “Mmmm…” She curled up against him. He leaned over to kiss the tip of her nose. “I meant, you’re not getting seasick again? The wind’s picked up.”

Her eyes flew wide open. His arm fell away from around her as she bounced up to a sitting position. “Heavens. It’s gone.” She beamed at him. “I’m feeling fine.” He grinned at her. “Maybe we’ve found a cure for seasickness. I wonder how we’d go about getting it patented and doing the clinical trials.” Lucas cursed his comment as soon as it was out. She was bound to pick up on the clue that he worked in the pharmaceutical industry, but the journalist in her seemed to be switched off. She showed no interest in his comment. Lucas frowned. Maybe she was simply skilled at covering up her reactions. He watched as she arched her back and swept her tumbling hair away from her face with both hands. “Did you bring my panties in?” she asked. “They’re hanging up to dry outside.” He recalled the flimsy scrap of silk and lace that he’d been fascinated with when he strung it over the end of his fishing pole. “Could you get them for me?” she asked. Her manner had grown brisk, practical, and Lucas tensed. “We’ll get dressed and then we’ll have some breakfast,” he told her gruffly. “After that I’ll take you to the pharmacy.” “Is it far?” “No. It’s only a few miles south along the lake, and then there’s about a mile to walk.” “Are they open all day?” Her face drew into a pensive frown. “I know the pharmacist. He’ll open up for me, even if he’s closed.” “In that case, I’d like you to take me to the house of Lucas Frost first. You can wait while I interview him, and then you can take me to the pharmacy. I can go back to my stranded rental car directly from there.” He stared at her, and felt as if the bottom had fallen out of his world. In that instant, Lucas admitted to what his sub-consciousness had already been telling him. Like a cliché of a man living in solitude, he’d fallen for a woman who had stumbled across his path, vulnerable and out of her element. He’d told himself he didn’t want to get involved, but right beneath the surface of his denial he’d already been making plans for a future that included her. He’d been prepared to risk betrayal to ease his lonely life. And the betrayal had come before he even got as far as confessing his feelings.

Her main concern all along had been to get her job done. “All right,” he grunted. “The big house at the end of the bay it is.” He left the bed, scaled the stairs stark naked, and quickly dressed in the clothes he’d bundled into the storage compartment before entering the cabin last night. The garments felt cold and damp, but his senses were dulled with anger and disappointment. The sooner he dropped her off, the faster he could embrace the task of forgetting her. And before he kissed her goodbye, he’d make sure that she’d never have the courage to write one single word about him. Lucas yanked her panties off the fishing rod, feeling them catch and snag. He shrugged his shoulders as he opened the cabin door and tossed them to her. A woman with such ambition could afford a new pair. Or more likely, she’d get some man to buy them for her. “I’m going to start the engine,” he told her. “Watch out, so you won’t stumble when the boat starts moving.” “I’ll be fine.” She clutched the blanket against her chest, covering up, as though the intimacy of the night had never been. He wondered if she’d remain hiding in the cabin during the journey ashore, but she came up on deck, her tight little white blouse neatly buttoned and tucked into her grey skirt. The highheeled pumps looked useless for a walk through the woods. No wonder she’d twisted her ankle. He gritted his teeth, angry with himself for allowing concern for her injury to intrude in his mind. She’d made love to him without care, to get where she wanted, and that was all there was to it. Her welfare was none of his business, beyond making sure that she wasn’t pregnant with his child. What in hell had made him lower his defenses and allow someone to get underneath his guard like that? However brief their liaison, due to his inexcusable carelessness about contraception, the woman already possessed the means to betray him if she chose. And why did his pulse race even now as he watched her face, her features soft and sleepy, the lips rosy and the delicate skin on her neck bearing a faint mark from his kisses? The question rattled in his mind. Had she truly slept with him merely as a means of achieving her aim? It annoyed him to realize how badly he wanted to know the answer. ****

Strained silence dominated the hour it took to complete the journey. Lucas didn’t bother with breakfast, just some orange juice, but she ate two slices of bread, with what seemed a hearty appetite. He kept snatching glances at her, although he knew he’d be better off ignoring her. After Christina finished eating, she sat sideways on the bench, arms wrapped around drawn-up knees, chin propped on top. Her dark hair blew in the wind, and a faraway look softened the frown of concentration on her face. “That’s the house.” He pointed at the massive jetty with a cabin cruiser on one side and a sailboat on the other. When the money started pouring in, he hadn’t been sure which he wanted, so he’d ordered both a Sunseeker and a Swan. Each lay idle at the dock, since despite the luxury he’d discovered he preferred his grandfather’s old fishing boat. The towering vessels blocked his view of the lake, and soon he’d have to figure out how to get rid of them. Maybe some charity would take them off his hands. His mouth twisted into a bitter grin. He knew just the organization he could make a donation to. Gamblers Anonymous. He controlled the flare of anger and pain at the thought. “What lovely boats,” Christina cried, her gaze sweeping along their graceful lines. She glanced at him and grew flustered. “I mean, yours is a nice boat too…” He ignored her discomfort. “I’ll drop you at the end of the jetty.” The fishing boat floated too low against the dock designed for the Sunseeker and the Swan, and once again he regretted having the old jetty torn down. He was forced to hoist Christina up, his hands clasped at her waist. She gripped his shoulders for support as he propped her to sit over the edge of the jetty. He felt a reaction in his groin and cursed himself for being such a fool. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?” She scrambled up and stood there, looking down at him. “I need you to take me to the pharmacy when I’m finished with the interview.” He threw a rope around a buoy and secured the boat. “I’ll get out and stretch my legs.” He followed her ashore, listening to her high heels clip against the timber decking. “There’s no path,” she pointed out when they reached the shore. “Just pick your way through the meadow,” he told her. “The alarm won’t be on.” “What alarm?” she glanced at him over her shoulder. “The ground’s alarmed to keep trespassers away.” Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”

“Everyone around here knows.” He managed a tired smile. “That’s the whole point of a deterrent—the fact that people know it’s there.” “And how do you know it will be switched off?” He raised an arm to point up the slope, where the meadow leveled to a clearing. Two men were heaving along a platform made of plywood, another scurried about arranging chairs, and a fourth attended to a bunch of power cables. Christina took a few steps forward then came to an abrupt halt. “My feet are sinking. This is a swamp.” Retreating, she gestured at the ground. “There’s something moving.” A large green frog leaped up, defying gravity, and fell back with a thud to hide amongst the dead leaves and the straggly weeds that covered the water’s edge. “It’s only a frog,” he told her, his dark mood easing at the sight of her frantic expression. “The lakeshore’s full of them after it’s been raining hard.” “I can’t go wading over a frog-infested swamp in these shoes.” He bent to scoop her up, hauling her against his chest. “I’ll carry you.” He ignored her protests and tightened his arms to contain her struggling body. It would be the last bittersweet touch he’d allow himself. Then he’d banish her from his heart and mind for good. “There you go.” He stood her up next to the platform surrounded with power cables that snaked along the lawn. “What are you doing?” She rushed up to the man in grey overalls with a logo that spelled “King Media.” Lucas recognized the name of the PR outfit Future Pharma had engaged to organize the press conference. “We’re setting up for the press conference on Sunday,” the man explained, raking a bold gaze up and down her body. She ignored the lustful look and frowned at his comment. “It’s going to be outdoors?” The man shrugged. “A fricken nightmare. We only found out a couple of days ago that the owner won’t allow anyone in the house.” He tilted his head to inspect the sky. “If it rains, the electrics will short and the mics will be ruined.” He walked away to bark instructions to a pair of youths in yellow King Media T-shirts. “Wait!” Christina shouted, racing after him. “Where can I find Lucas Frost?” “Not here,” the man told her. “He’s been gone since we got here on Friday morning. He’s expected back tomorrow in time for the press conference.”

“He isn’t here?” “That’s what I just told you, lady.” The man strode off, cursing as a gust off wind blew off the purple cloth on top the plywood podium. Lucas had been watching the exchange, secure in the knowledge that none of the King Media people had ever met him or knew what he looked like. He hadn’t been able to wriggle out of the press conference, and to his frustration Futura Pharma had insisted that it had to take place where people could see his work environment. He’d refused to let them into his house. Before the speeches started, there would be a brief video tour of his lab. “Are you ready to go?” he asked. Christina stood rooted on the damp lawn. “He isn’t here,” she said forlornly. “I’m surprised you didn’t allow for that possibility.” She whirled to him. “He’s supposed to be a hermit who rarely leaves his house.” Lucas shifted his shoulders. “Looks like you slipped up with your research.” “I never slip up with my research.” Her voice was sharp with frustration. He gestured at her. “Do you want me to carry you back to the jetty, or will you make your own way out of here?” She ignored him and stalked after the man in grey overalls. “Excuse me! I need to use the bathroom. Can you please let me into the house?” The man turned around, a look of exaggerated patience on his face. “Lady, I already told you. We’re not allowed inside the house.” “But it’s an emergency,” she protested. “Can’t help you. I ain’t got no keys.” “What do you use for a bathroom?” “There’s an outhouse behind the garage, and two portapotties have just been delivered for the press conference.” He jerked his head past the clearing. “That way.” Christina surveyed the landscape. “I’m going to look at the house,” she declared. “I can see the windows glinting through the trees.” Lucas followed her stumbling gait. He knew the house was secure. Although the big bucks had only started rolling in recently, he’d been making good money for a decade, and most of what had been left over after having to bail out his father every once in a while had gone into

the house. The building was a monument of hardwood and glass, built on a slope, with a huge terrace overlooking the lake. The labs were in a separate wing accessed by an enclosed walkway. An impulse had made him construct the residential quarters on a grand scale, stemming from some vague notion that one day he might have a family. Christina’s skirt rode high up on her thighs as they climbed over the fence to the terrace. Lucas watched, suppressing the sharp stab of desire, staying back while she cupped her hands around her face to peer inside through the glass wall. “He’s supposed to be a funny mix of traditional values and cutting edge science,” she mused. “The furniture certainly supports that. A collection of old junk mixed with expensive modern pieces.” He pursed his lips, wondering what his grandparents in their graves in Florida would think if they heard the family heirlooms described as junk. He’d been able to secure a few pieces after his grandmother passed away. His father had been in Atlantic City, enjoying one of his rare winning streaks. A month later he’d come out to the house, demanding the furniture. Lucas had paid him off, telling him it was the last time he’d help. It was always the last time—until the next time. “I’m going to check out those portapotties,” he told Christina. “I’ll see you back at the boat in ten minutes.” She dropped her gaze to her shoes. “I don’t want to ruin these.” She lifted her eyes to him. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to carry me back.” “I’ll meet you here.” He scaled the terrace fence, jumped down to the lawn, and started along the path. “Ten minutes,” he called over his shoulder. Out of sight, Lucas changed his course and circled to the rear of the house. He lined his eye with the retinal scanner and waited for the lock to click open. He downloaded his emails, found nothing urgent. Next, he inspected the boxes stacked inside the door and tore one open to check the plastic pouches full of white tablets that nestled inside. He picked up a handful of the placeboes he’d ordered and jammed them into his jeans pocket. He might have time on the boat to check if they met the specification and took at least five minutes to dissolve in water. Then he slipped out again, stopping to make sure the path was clear before he raced down to the clearing where he’d ordered the temporary restrooms to be erected. Tension settled in his neck and shoulders as he thought of the press conference that would take place tomorrow. He

hated public appearances. In the next thirty hours, he’d have to arrange for Christina to take the emergency contraception, say goodbye to her, and stand in front of a pack of journalists to discharge his responsibility toward Futura Pharma. He couldn’t say which task would be the hardest. **** Christina stood on the terrace, one shoe tapping impatiently against the timber. “Where have you been?” she complained when the man stalked through the trees. “I’ve been waiting for seventeen minutes, and the workmen are leering at me.” “I got delayed,” the man said, but offered no explanation “Let’s get on with it,” she told him and stood still, her arms stretched out, ready for him to scoop her up. The ebb and flow of emotions that raged inside her filled her with confusion. Last night, every beat of her heart had been for him, every cell in her body had yearned for his touch. Questions had filled her mind, like taunting whispers that drifted in the summer breeze. What’s so great about being a famous journalist? How long are you going to keep trying? Ten years you’ve sacrificed for your dream. Isn’t it time to accept that you’ll never make it? Isn’t it time to find another dream? She’d given in to the whispers, allowing the closed doors in her mind to creak open for the prospect of love, all the way to the pretty picture of a husband and wife on a weekend fishing trip with children waiting at home. But to her disappointment, in the morning the man had become cool and distant. She’d abandoned her intention of asking who he was, and if she could see him again. Heck, he probably regretted the night, thought she was a slut, and couldn’t wait to get rid of her. It was fortunate that she hadn’t got as far as telling him her name and where she could be reached. But despite her effort to barricade her senses to he man, Christina reveled in his nearness as he carried her back to the jetty. She had to throw her arms around his neck for balance. Fastening her gaze on the small hollow between his collarbones, just above the edge of his Tshirt, she breathed in his masculine scent of wood and engine oil.

His heart drummed strong and steady beside her right breast, and although she knew that they’d part in a matter of hours, she’d never felt safer in her life. Sighing, Christina closed her eyes. She’d given in to romantic fantasies about a happy ever after, but the bond she’d felt between them had been nothing but a figment of her imagination. “Thank you.” She tugged the hem of her skirt straight as soon as she was on her feet. “I’ll lift you down.” His hands curled strong and sure beneath her arms as he lowered her onto the boat. She became flustered when the long stretch down made her blouse pull out of the waistband of her skirt, and the middle buttons popped open. Hastily she covered herself, wishing she had something else to wear. “There are clothes in the storage box,” he said, noticing her nervous gesture. “They’re clean, but they’ll smell of mould, because of all the rain in the last few weeks.” “Where should I look?” she asked. “Under the life jackets,” he said as he climbed down to the boat. She searched, and found a pale blue sweatshirt with ‘Duke University’ on the front. “Can I wear this?” She held up the garment. The man had bent down to fiddle with the engine. He slanted a glance in her direction. “Sure,” he said. “I can’t recall what else there is.” “Is this yours?” she asked, smoothing the fabric over her body. “Yup.” He sounded irritable, so Christina fell into silence and settled on the bench to wait, her knees drawn up against her chest. “Is there a problem?” she asked after a while. “The fuel line’s clogged up.” “Can you fix it?” “It will take a few minutes.” “Is there anything I can do to help?” “Yeah. Keep out of my way.” She watched as he went about the task with quiet competence, face furrowed, eyes sharp with concentration. Although the day had started out cloudy, the sun had broken through, leaving only a thin layer of haze in the sky.

“It will be a hot afternoon again,” she said, feeling the need to talk. “Yup,” he said. “Are you hungry? You didn’t have any breakfast.” “I could eat something.” She bounced to her feet, pleased to have something to do. “What would you like? Tuna? Pastrami? Cheese?” “Tuna sounds good.” She made the sandwiches with care, adding slices of tomato, and a dash of salt and pepper she’d found in small sachets inside a Ziploc bag at the bottom of the grey storage crate filled with food. “How do you cook on board?” she asked, handing him a sandwich on a plastic plate. The man settled on the opposite bench. “I have a folding barbeque with a gas bottle. It’s stored under the deck in the bow. You can get it out through a trapdoor in the cabin.” “It must be nice to have something to cook with when you’re out on the lake in the fall and it’s cool in the evenings,” Christina said. “You can make a hot drink, or heat a can of soup.” He smiled at her. “I’ve been out on a night so cold that I burned the flame just to keep my hands from going numb.” “Do you bring your girlfriends fishing?” she asked, trying to sound casual, but when she caught the shuttered look in the man’s eyes, she felt herself blush. “No,” he said curtly. “You’re the first.” The jolt that hit her must be what it felt like when an airbag went off in a car and crashed into your chest. Did he consider her a girlfriend? Was his distracted mood after all not because he regretted last night and wanted to tell her goodbye as soon as they’d been to the pharmacy? She covered up her confusion by getting to her feet, lifting up the bench, and bending over the cool box. “There’s enough tuna for one more sandwich. Would you like me to make you another?” “I don’t mind. You can have it, and I’ll have pastrami.” In silence she prepared the sandwiches. She wasn’t really hungry, but she ate to keep him company. “Did you fix the problem?” she asked when they sat facing each other, plastic plates balanced over their knees. “Huh?” his brows lifted.

“The fuel line. Did you get it to work?” “Yeah. It’s fine, but it was a good idea to have something to eat before we set off.” After they finished eating, she gathered up the empty plates, and the knife and fork she’d used to make the sandwiches, and pointed to the platform at the end of the boat. “Shall I climb down and wash these in the lake?” “No need. I have enough to use a clean set for every meal. I take them up to the house at the end of the trip and put them in the dishwasher.” He glanced over his shoulder up the slope. Christina craned to see what he was looking at, but the workmen were taking a break and there was nothing to see, except the huge glass and hardwood house with its wraparound decks. The man rose to his feet. “Ready to go?” “Ready,” she agreed. She got up and went to bundle the plastic bag with dirty dishes on top of the lifejackets inside the storage locker. She wanted to ask him what had drawn his attention, but instinct stopped her. It was beginning to dawn on her that he didn’t like questions.

Chapter Five

This time they remained close to the shoreline. The tiny coves with crescents of white sand between rocky outcrops drew gasps of admiration from Christina. “Are there beaches that you can only get to by boat?” she shouted over the drone of the engine that seemed louder today. “You can reach them by land, but only a few of them have a path you can follow. For the rest, you have to pick your way through the undergrowth.” “It’s pretty around here.” “Yes.” His eyes met hers. “I’m glad you like it. I’ve had happy times here.” Her heart jolted, and Christina knew she’d blushed again. It was an awkward situation, knowing each other intimately, but not really knowing anything about each other. That must be why she was behaving like an awkward teenager. The engine made a screeching noise and cut out. Silence filled the air. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I don’t know,” he told her. “But that was a nasty sound.” “Is it broken?” “I expect so. What I don’t know is if I can fix it.” She gave him a nervous smile. Her stomach lurched at the possibility of being stranded another night on the boat with him. “Shall I keep out of your way again?” He nodded. “Good plan.” Christina curled up on the bench. She must have drifted off to sleep because when she next looked up the sun had turned into a huge orange disc low in the sky, and the man was

stretched out on the opposite bench. Too tall to lie down properly, he was slumped diagonally, his legs extended across the deck as he slept. She needed to use the toilet bucket, but when she got up and raised the storage box lid to take it out, the dirty dishes clanked inside the plastic bag. Holding her breath, she waited. She heard a shuffling noise behind her and turned to find the man sitting upright, watching her. “Sorry. I woke you up” she said. He rubbed his face with his hands. The stubble that covered his jaw was getting long, and the dark shadow over his skin made the bleached tips of his hair look even more golden in contrast. “I’ve had a good nap.” He propped his hands on his knees and stifled a yawn. “Did you fix the engine?” He shook his head. “I figured out what’s wrong, but I need a spare part to get it going.” “Are we stuck on the boat?” she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. “Afraid so.” The corners of his mouth tugged down. “Sorry.” She shrugged. “Not the end of the world. We have food, and we don’t have any urgent business we’re missing.” She glanced up. “At least I don’t. What about you?” He contemplated her, a strange look in his eyes. “Not until tomorrow,” he said in the end. “I have an important commitment tomorrow.” “What time?” He shifted one shoulder, watching her, the enigmatic expression not leaving his face. “In the afternoon.” “Well, that’s settled, then,” she told him briskly. “We’re stuck on your boat until tomorrow, but that’s not a problem. We’ll make the most of it.” He cleared his throat, looking amused. “What?” She frowned at him. Something about him made her feel light-headed, and her frown melted into a smile. “What?” she demanded. “Why are you laughing at me?” “I was just wondering what miracle will happen tomorrow to stop us from continuing to be stranded.” Her mouth fell open. “Damn. I’m used to cars. You just call the triple A.” He shook his head slowly. “We’ll be stranded until someone comes by and tows us in.” “I have a cell phone.”

“There’s no coverage on the lake.” Christina looked around, trying to get her bearings. “We’ve been going south, right?” He nodded at her, his lips pursed with interest as he waited for her to make her point. “My car’s a couple of miles south from the jetty where I got on your boat. That should be close to here. We could wade ashore and find my car.” “The shore is shallow. It would be difficult to get close enough without risking damage to the boat, and you said your car’s broken down.” “Damn.” Christina eyed him. She ought to have been worried, but for some reason, laughter bubbled up in her chest. “Are you telling me that we’re stuck here for good? And when we run out of food we’ll starve, and the one who dies first gets eaten by the other?” “That would be tough on you, because you’d be the one to die first.” “Why do you say that?” she protested. “Women have superior endurance.” “I don’t dispute that, but out of the two of us, I carry more reserve fat.” His blue eyes traced her curves. “Although yours is more attractively distributed over your body.” The laughter she’d been trying to suppress burst free. “What do you suggest we do?” “Actually, there’s no problem,” he admitted. “I think I have a spare part on board. I just have to find it among all the junk that’s stored under the deck in the bow.” Christina felt her face fall with disappointment, before she caught herself and carefully wiped away the stricken expression. “Is there a lot of junk stored in the bow?” “And awful lot,” he conceded, the corners of his mouth twitching. She glanced around. “It’s getting late. The light will fade soon.” He stared into the sky. She knew that if he went along with her and pretended that the sun didn’t have at least another hour to shine before it dipped below the horizon, he was as reluctant to leave her as she was to leave him. “It will be getting dark soon,” he agreed. “I’d better wait until morning before I start emptying out all that junk.” She gave him a grave nod. “That sounds like a good idea.” She crossed her arms and huddled a little. “Perhaps you could start tonight, and dig out the barbeque. It would be nice to have something hot to drink.”

“Are you cold?” He got to his feet, balancing against the sway of the boat, and pulled her up to her feet. Slowly and gently, he wrapped his arms around her, and then he tightened his hold until she stood pressed against him. Sighing with pleasure, she tilted her head back. “You wouldn’t really eat me if I died first, would you?” she asked. “Why not? You taste good.” He lowered his head and kissed her, a long soft exploring kiss, as though they’d never shared a kiss before. What is going on? Christina clung to him, rising up on her toes, leaning against the man’s solid frame to keep her balance. This morning, he seemed to have had enough of her, and now he appeared to be pleased to be stranded with her for another night. She didn’t care. If there were a patron saint for broken diesel engines, she’d light him a dozen candles. **** The boat rocked gently, the small gas barbeque burning between the benches. Blocks of wood nailed into an aluminum sheet created a platform that wedged the iron legs into place, so that there was no chance the stove would topple over or slide about if the boat tossed in the waves. The ring of flames on top of the burner glowed brightly in the night. Beyond the reach of the flickering light, darkness shrouded the rest of the world. They were close enough to the shore to see the phosphorous dance of the fireflies over the meadows, but a trail of acrid smoke from a burning mosquito coil kept insects at bay. Instead of sitting on the benches, they’d hunkered down on the deck next to the barbeque. The man leaned his back against the side of a bench, and Christina nestled between his legs, huddled up to his chest. His arms were curled protectively around her. As the night wore on, he’d spread a blanket over her knees to keep out the cold. A sense of wellbeing enveloped her. Although the morning hours were creeping in, she felt no need to go to sleep. If she could have stopped the world turning around and spent the rest of her life frozen in this moment, she’d have gladly sacrificed her future. They’d talked about nothing in particular, only the little details and everyday experiences that add up to a human life. Teenage dating disasters, music and books, trips taken, places visited, and people met.

The only area they had carefully avoided so far was their current circumstances. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?” Christina asked, breaking one of the many easy silences that had punctuated their softly murmured conversations. “I have one sister, who lives in New York. She is married to an investment banker.” “Do you miss her?” “No. We email and talk on the phone.” He pressed another kiss on top of her head. All evening he’d held her, like something rare and precious, to be protected and kept safe. His arms shifted around her. “What about you, any siblings?” She sighed. “I have a brother and a sister.” “Any nieces and nephews?” “No. None of us have children.” Christina inhaled a deep breath, then gave voice to the feelings of bitterness she’d never shared, not even with her siblings. “You know how people say that the greatest gift parents can give their children is confidence?” “Uh-huh.” “Well, that’s not true.” “Why do you think so?” “My parents brought us up to believe that we could be anything we want to be. They instilled a faith in us that if you just try hard enough, you’ll succeed. If you fail, it will just be another stepping stone on the way to success. You must pick yourself up and try again, and eventually you’ll succeed.” “That sounds like admirable guidance.” “It’s not.” She snapped out the words, and felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “It’s the biggest con trick in the world. It lures you into throwing your life away in the quest for the impossible. Instead, they should have told us that you might try hard, but if you fail, you should give up, rather than let the effort drain your life.” She twisted around to look at Lucas from the corner of her eye, but the flickering flames didn’t allow her to make out his expression. “Do you feel you’ve thrown your life away?” he asked. “We all have. I’ve spent ten years trying to break through as a journalist. When I grew up, I thought I’d be the female Larry King. My parents forgot to explain to me that there are

thousands of people with the same dream, and they all work their butts off. Only one can be the next Larry King, and if that’s not you, no amount of determination will change the outcome.” With a sigh of defeat, she fell back against his chest and let the tension drain out of her. “Melissa wanted to be a concert pianist. She almost made it, was a hair’s breath away. Something about the lack of depth in her interpretation of the slow movements, and a tiny stiffness in the fingers of her left hand after she hurt her wrist ice-skating. Those two little flaws kept her from achieving her dream.” “And your brother?” “Triathlete. Brilliant with cycling, a champion swimmer, but not quite strong enough to keep going through the running. And now, all he has to show for the years of training is pain in his joints and an obsession over his calorie intake.” “It will be all right,” the man said, and hauled her into a tight embrace. That’s all he said. No details, no elaboration. With a rush, her earlier thoughts returned. What would it be like to belong to a man who would listen to her woes without judging, and even if he could do nothing to make a problem go away, he would wrap his arms around her, and promise that tomorrow would be better. And she would want to believe him. Christina could almost hear the snap as the string of ambition inside her broke. Why did she worry so much about throwing away ten years of effort? Surely, to continue trying for the impossible would be the greatest folly of all. Not stopping now meant throwing good years after bad. It made no sense at all to keep chasing after a dream so elusive that she could no longer even see her goal on the horizon. “Do you want any children?” the man asked. Her shoulders rubbed against him as she shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. I’ve always assumed that there’s a sequence. First you fall in love and get married, and then you think about children. Without the first, the second remains unexplored, like a white area on a map.” “Have you ever thought about getting married?” “Nope.” She shook her head. “Have you ever been in love?” he asked.

“A few times I’ve thought so. Each time, I realized that I was more in love with being in love, rather than in love with that particular person.” She twisted around to look at him once more. “Do you appreciate the difference?” “Yes.” He brushed a kiss on the edge of her cheekbone. As she felt the warm, soft touch of his lips, the answer blossomed in her chest. Of course. Deep down, she’d known all day that she didn’t really want to take the morning-after pill. When she’d insisted they go to Lucas Frost’s house before the pharmacy, she hadn’t been driven just by her obsession to secure an exclusive interview—she’d been trying to postpone the decision. Now she knew. If it turned out that she was pregnant, she’d find a way to cope with a baby. She wanted someone to belong to, and if that someone had to be a bawling infant that kept her awake at night and curbed her freedom for the next twenty years, so be it. If things didn’t work out between them after she left the boat, the man would never need to know, but she would always cherish the memory of him as her child’s father. “What about you?” she asked. “Have you ever been in love?” “No.” “No? So firm, so sure?” She twisted round again, and caught a reflection of the gas flame in his eyes. In the darkness, the blue had deepened to midnight. “I don’t really...interact well with people.” “You seem to be competent enough in the art of communication.” He pressed his chin on top of her head and reached his arms further around her. “I’m fine…on a superficial level...but I can’t stand crowds, or mingling in parties, and I’m not so good when it comes to letting people close.” “Women?” “People in general. I guess none of us can choose our parents.” His voice muffled to a mutter. Her long experience in drawing out secrets that people didn’t really want to share told Christina the man felt he’d already said too much. Shutters had come down in his mind, and he wouldn’t reveal anything more, however hard she bombarded him with questions.

So, instead of attempting to continue the conversation, she made a move to scamper up. “The water’s boiling,” she told him. He ordered her to stay under the blanket and eased away from his sitting position behind her. A flickering light danced on his tense features as he turned off the flame on the barbeque. Then he made instant coffee in the near darkness. She heard the clicking of a spoon, and the trickle of water pouring from the light aluminum pan into two insulated plastic mugs. He handed her a mug, a pretty red without any pattern. “You never told me your name,” he said. She warmed her hands around the insulated cup. “And you haven’t told me yours.” “Do you want to go first?” She considered a moment. “I don’t think we should.” “Why not?” He propped his mug on the bench and settled behind her again. One arm returned to support her, while the other hand reached for the coffee mug and raised it to his lips. “Has it cooled enough to drink?” she asked. “Are you trying to change the subject?” “Yes,” she admitted, leaning into him. “It doesn’t work with me. I’m too methodical. I go along a straight track, and if someone tries to deviate, my wheels get stuck.” “I don’t think we should introduce ourselves because this weekend has been a slice out of time. I don’t want to spoil it by letting reality intrude.” By now, she had realized her hijacker was a highly educated man. There had been that remark about working in a logging camp to pay his way through college, and the Duke sweatshirt. An Ivy League school. And tonight, she’d witnessed a formidable intelligence that easily dealt with any topic. At the house of Lucas Frost, he’d cooled toward her, but when the engine broke and left them stranded, he had become attentive again. She resented being manipulated like that. Having her emotions toyed with, her love collected like some kind of trophy. And she could tell he was doing it. The night had felt like one long emotional seduction, as if the man was determined to leave her longing for him when they parted. “Please,” she said. “Let’s just leave it as it is. No names, no personal details.”

In truth, her conscience rebelled at the idea of having a child without the permission of the father. I’m probably not pregnant anyway, she told herself. But if she were, committing the cowardly act of keeping the child a secret from the man would be easier to justify if she truly knew nothing about him, had no means of getting in touch to share the news. “All right. If that’s what you wish.” He leaned down and pressed another kiss on her temple. “Do you want to settle down in the cabin for the night? Get some sleep?” “No. I’d like to stay up, see the sunrise.” “All right.” His arms tightened around her, holding her close. Christina signed. A clean break. That would make it easier to forget him. If there was a baby, the child would be hers alone.

Chapter Six

When the rising sun burned off the morning dew, Lucas fixed the engine. Last night, he had taken the first step to open up to another person. Fear unfurled inside him at the thought, but he was determined to storm the rest of the way. He wanted to tell Christina who he was and declare his feelings. He knew that he had found the woman he wanted to share his life with, but doubts still niggled inside him. Would she betray him, like his father had betrayed the trust of a child? In his mind, he could recall every incident, like a long strand of barbed wire. The pain of each spike had caused him to withdraw even deeper into himself. Christina. What did she want? Each time he decided she felt something for him, there would be a subtle pulling back in her manner. During those moments he sensed that she was full of regret, ashamed by her impulsive behavior of sleeping with a stranger. At the house, angered by her hard streak of ambition that came before everything else, he had decided to let her go. When the engine stalled and left them stranded, it seemed as though fate was telling him not to be a fool. He had given in to his feelings, had used the opportunity to add emotional ties to the physical bonds that had brought them together the night before. Hour after hour, he had held her in his arms. Disclosing who he was would force him to reveal the emotional turmoil of his growing up years. He would need to explain, make her understand why he had misled her. Too much anxiety would be stirred up by such a conversation. He needed to get the press conference out of the way first. His dislike of public appearances made him nervous, and he knew that he’d make a mess of both tasks if he attempted them in succession.

Later, he’d be able to break the truth to her in a controlled manner, allow her to come to terms with his deception…and ask her to be his wife. The only problem was the contraceptive pills. If there was a baby, he wanted it. Lucas frowned as he labored on the engine, his hands smeared in grease. Everyone had a moral code they followed, and the sleepless hours of the night had helped him to explore his. When the darkness had deepened around them, Christina had gone to sleep against his chest. He had gathered her up and negotiated his way down the narrow stairs to the cabin without waking her. He’d left her covered with the blanket, and sat the night up on deck, watching the new day dawning as he wrestled with his conscience over what he was planning to do. He needed to buy time, until he could tell Christina the truth about himself. **** Lucas had finished the repairs and stood cooking an omelet for breakfast when Christina emerged on deck. She had tied her hair back, and in one hand she clutched a shiny black makeup bag. Shadows ringed her eyes. They made her skin look pale, despite the hint of a tan from the past two days. His Duke sweatshirt swamped her, hiding her curves. The sleeves hung down to her fingertips and the hem past her hips, making her look like a schoolgirl in a mini dress. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. He recalled asking her the same question the morning before. His chest tightened at the thought that if things worked out right, he would ask her the same question every morning for the rest of his life. “Yes,” she said, sounding subdued. She climbed up on the bench to get past the barbeque with the sizzling pan. “Excuse me. I need to find my red toilet bucket.” He flipped the omelet over, although it wasn’t as well done as he liked. It seemed more important to give her privacy than to please his taste buds. “Let me put some water on for coffee. Then I’ll be out of your way.” He left the omelet in the pan, which he propped on the bench and covered with a lid to keep warm. He slid a cork mat underneath to stop the timber from getting a burned circle. Then he stomped down the stairs, making enough noise with his feet to let her know that she’d hear the same warning signal before he came up again. In the cabin, the blanket was folded neatly at the foot the narrow bunk. Her canvas tote stood propped up on the table, packed and ready for her departure. A rumpled and damp raincoat hung draped over the edge of the single chair.

Lucas couldn’t resist poking around a little. A shorthand pad peeked from the top of the tote. He slid the pad out and turned a page. “Questions for Lucas Frost”. He scanned down the list. Although most of it was general information about him, there were a few questions on science, which made him appreciate the depth of her research. He turned another page—and froze. “Ten reasons not to have a baby.” She must have lain awake too, and when the morning dawned, she had jotted down her thoughts. I might not be a good mother. A baby deserves two parents. My job is too important to give up. I can’t afford to raise a child in comfort. I’m afraid of the physical side of childbirth. There could be a problem with the baby. It would be wrong not to tell him. It would stop me from ever getting over him. It would tie me down too much. Are my genes good enough to pass on? His mouth tightened as he read point number eight. If she thought he had any intention of letting her get over him, she was a fool. Lucas shoved the notepad back into the tote and stormed up the steps, forgetting to keep his approach slow and make a stomping noise with his feet. Christina was gone. He leapt past the burning barbeque, found her kneeling on the ledge at the rear, bent down to brush her teeth. She must have heard him because she turned to look up, the toothbrush sticking from her mouth, a rivulet of foam running down her full bottom lip. She lifted one hand in a hesitant wave and turned to spit in the water. Lucas pulled back, his heart stirred by the domesticity of the scene. From that moment on, he stopped worrying about the ethical side of things. He knew he was right to do what he was planning to do about the birth control pills. There was enough time for Christina to postpone her decision until he got the press conference out of the way. He

needed to stop her from doing anything drastic until he had the opportunity to declare himself, make her aware of what he could offer. The water on the barbeque made bubbling sounds. He lifted the pot away, but left the flame burning, in case Christina was cold. He pictured her kneeling on the ledge, her feet and legs bare, unprotected against the morning chill. Frowning, he crossed over to the storage box and rummaged under the life jackets. He found another sweatshirt. Oil stains covered the chest and back with ‘Stamford’ written in big letters. He had completed his first degree at Princeton and his doctorate at Stamford. In between, there had been short research project at Duke, largely forgotten, and he hadn’t been afraid of letting Christina see the name on the sweatshirt. Stamford was different. It might set alarm bells ringing in her head. He fetched a knife from the drawer beneath the table in the cabin and hacked off the sleeves that were plain grey and reasonably clean. “You should have told me you were cooking,” Cristina said. “I could have helped.” She’d come up without a sound, jolting him. He turned to her. “Here.” He handed the detached sleeves to her. “Put these on your feet to keep warm.” She dangled the bits of material in the air and inspected them. “What, like a pair of socks?” “That’s right.” He looked around for somewhere to hide the central panel of the sweatshirt so she wouldn’t see the lettering on it. “Is that the rest of it?” Christina craned her neck. “Why have you cut it up?” “I wanted another rag to use on the engine. It’s better to cut off the sleeves because they dangle and get in the way.” She sat on the bench and swung up her feet. “These are lovely.” She tugged the sleeves over her legs. “Just what I needed. And the grey matches my skirt.” She wiggled her toes until they peeked past the cuffs. “Wouldn’t you wear them if they were the wrong color?” Lucas asked as he divided the omelet and dished it out on two plastic plates. Christina pursed her lips, and he controlled his urge to step forward and plant a kiss on her mouth. He had to be careful to hide his possessive instincts. She wasn’t the type to be swept off her feet. He needed to wait until the press conference was over, and then he could focus on the future and put his proposal to her in a rational manner.

“No, I don’t think I would wear them if the color clashed,” she said after a pause. “It would upset my sense of aesthetics too much.” “Women.” He snorted, and then looked down his own sweater, covered in so many paint stains that the original pattern was lost. “I suppose this is an aesthetic disaster?” She surveyed him, a guarded look on her face. “No,” she said in a light tone. “It’s just right. The rules are different for men.” He poured the coffee, shaking his head at the human psyche as he handed her the plate and the mug. He was worth millions at the last count, but an old stained sweater had just become his favorite garment. He knew he’d take it up to the house in the afternoon when he left the boat. They ate slowly, both meeting the new day with caution. “You remember that commitment I mentioned,” Lucas said. “Yes?” she looked up from her plate, her face tired and a little pinched. “We need to start getting ready, so we’ll have enough time to stop by the pharmacy.” “Do you really have to go?” “Yes,” he said. “I can’t just fail to turn up. It’s something I haven’t done since I was sixteen and missed my grandfather’s birthday party because I’d lost my wallet and didn’t have the bus fare, and the telephone at the bus station was broken, so I couldn’t even call him.” “Why didn’t you travel with your parents?” Because he’d already been at Princeton at sixteen, and his father had been on another losing streak at the roulette table. “I can’t quite recall,” Lucas said, dumping his empty plate on the bench. “The sun’s burning through the morning haze. If you’re warm enough, I’ll turn off the burner. The barbeque needs to cool off before I put it away.” “Did you finish repairing the engine?” “Yes. It’s working fine now.” He watched as Christina rose to stack the dirty dishes in the storage box. The sweatshirt sleeves slipped to bunch around her ankles, and she kept bending over to tug them up. Each time, the short grey skirt stretched tight over her rounded buttocks. Lucas waited, enjoying the view. When Christina had finished her task, Lucas stood up and told her it was time to leave as soon as he’d stowed away the barbeque. She nodded and settled on the bench, arms hugging her

knees. There was no conversation while they covered the couple of miles to the public jetty that served several of the nearby towns. After Lucas secured the boat, he helped Christina ashore. He frowned at her high heels. “You’ll ruin those, and you’ll have to walk slowly. It makes more sense if I go on my own to the pharmacy. You could wait here.” She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Won’t I have to be there for a prescription?” He considered, and decided not to hide his knowledge about the pharmaceutical industry. “The drug status of the emergency contraceptive pill is changing. In a few days, you won’t need a prescription any more, provided you’re over eighteen. The pharmacist is a friend of mine. I hope that he’ll let me have a pack for you in advance.” The pinched look returned to her face. “How do you know?” Lucas gave an awkward shrug. She would think he needed emergency contraception often, and there was nothing he could say to protect her feelings, unless he confessed right now who he was. If he did, and she put pride before forgiveness, he might risk losing her. There simply wasn’t enough time to deal with her reaction, and keep his focus clear for the press conference, and he owed it to the investors to go in with steady nerves. “I heard something on the television,” he told her in the end. “Will you need any personal details, like a date of birth, or a social security number?” “I don’t know.” He sighed. The deceit would become more complicated than he’d planned. He’d have to persuade someone at the pharmacy to cooperate. He’d probably end up having to buy the place. “You can call in your details later,” he told her, hoping she’d accept the suggestion. “That’s a good idea.” He could hear the relief in her voice and knew she hadn’t wanted to give her personal details to him either. His lips drew into a wry smile at the irony of the situation. He longed to tell her who he was, but she’d become insistent that they remain strangers. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour.” He glanced at his watch. “Take your time. I’ll wait on the boat. I found some shampoo in the storage box. I’ll wash my hair and tidy up my clothes.” She tugged at the Duke sweatshirt. “If I came with you, I might be able to buy something to wear.” “Nothing will be open around here on a Sunday.”

She clasped her hands together in a nervous gesture. “Is there a local taxi service? Or even better, someone who could come out and fix my rental car?” Lucas sighed. He’d planned to get back to the house early, so he could ask one of the make-up people to cut his hair before the press conference. He wanted to look presentable, but instinct told him it didn’t really matter. He’d been portrayed in the media as a maverick. An unkempt appearance would fit that image. As long as he shaved and wore something halfway decent, no one would complain. “You said your car is a couple of miles south of where you got on my boat?” “Yes.” “If you give me the keys, I’ll see if I can get it going.” Her face tightened with that nervous look again. “No. There’s no need. If you could just arrange for a taxi to come and pick me up, that would be great.” “All right.” Lucas gave a nod and set off down the track. When the forest hid him, he sat on a fallen tree. His cell phone picked up a signal at once. He called for a taxi first, and arranged it to arrive in two hours. Then he called the house, hoping that his lab assistant had arrived. “Can you look up the morning-after pill for me?” he asked when Jason answered. “What have you been up to?” “Just do it. I’m in a hurry. What’s the one that will be available without prescription next week?” He listened to the clicking of the keyboard. “It’s called Plan B,” Jason informed him. “Progestin only, two tablets, 750 micrograms each.” “Two? How do you take them?” “Hold on…you leave twelve hours in between.” “How long is it effective?” “Up to seventy-two hours after intercourse.” Lucas exhaled a sigh of relief. He could afford to keep the situation on hold until he could concentrate properly on Christina. “What does it look like?” He waited while Jason searched. “I can’t find a picture.” “I need to know.” “Do you want me to call a pharmacy and ask?”

“No. I’ll make do.” Most tablets were white, so a white placebo was a good bet. By sheer luck, he’d dropped a handful of pills into his pocket. “What have you been up to?” Jason asked. “I thought you’d gone fishing. Your boat’s not at the jetty.” “I moved it to the lower jetty on Thursday morning. I wanted to leave unseen if the King Media people were around.” “It’s a frigging anthill. They’re crawling everywhere.” “Not in the house?” Lucas said sharply. Jason chuckled. “Of course not. I’d have to be dead, with my eyeball gouged out.” “I never thought about that when I had the locks with retinal scanners put in. I should increase your pay. Danger money.” “You pay well, boss, but I’ll never say no to more.” Lucas hung up. He waited until an hour was gone, using the time to make other phone calls. The CEO of Futura Pharma launched into a lecture on reliability the instant he came on the line. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours,” Lucas assured him. “Everything’s fine.” He pocketed the phone and sat on the log. He couldn’t do it. Not deceive Christina about the birth control pills, or leave her without confessing the truth. He’d have to tell her. If she flew into a rage and walked out on him, he’d go into the press conference with his nerves rubbed raw. It didn’t matter. Appearing like brooding misogynist in front of a bunch of journalists mattered less than being honest with Christina. Lucas shuddered at the thought that she might turn on him. If the revelation whipped her into a fury, there was little he could do to protect himself against any sordid form of female revenge. She might deny her active part in their encounter, allowing her mind to distort the situation and claim that he’d seduced her against her will, or worse, that he had pressured her into sleeping with him. His taunting offer to return her ashore after a night of sex could be twisted into something ugly. He had to take the risk. Lucas jumped up and headed back for the boat.

On the gravel slope leading to the jetty, a father and son were preparing a fiberglass dinghy for launch. He rushed past, reached the end of the jetty and took a careless leap into the boat. He couldn’t see Christina on deck, so he hurried into the cabin, barely remembering to duck at the low entrance. She was gone. The tote bag, the long raincoat, the small cosmetics purse, all had vanished along with her, leaving only the neatly folded blanket on the narrow bunk and the rolled up sail cluttering the floor. Lucas swore. Glancing at his watch, he ran through his options. His jaw clenched as he realized he would have to leave, or he’d be late for the press conference. Before casting off, he stalked back down the jetty. The middle aged sailor in a bright red windproof jacket straightened from tying down a rope. “You’re looking for the little lady?” he asked, wiping a hand across his brow. Lucas nodded. “She went off in the truck that towed us down.” The man studied him, not hiding his curiosity. “She asked us to tell you goodbye. I tried, but you tore past in too much of a hurry.” “I see.” Lucas suppressed the surge of anger. “Did she say anything else?” The man thought, his bushy brows beetling. “She said to thank you, for everything.” Turning, Lucas made his way back to the boat. Thank you for everything. Christina was a fool if she thought those four words meant that they were finished.

Chapter Seven

“Do you think you can fix it?” Christina asked the burly young man called Kevin who stood leaning beneath the raised hood of her stranded car. She didn’t feel particularly benign toward him as he’d insulted her intelligence by suggesting she’d run out of gas. Kevin clucked his tongue. “Your fan belt’s broke,” he said. “It needs to be changed.” “How long would it take for you to get a new one and install it?” Kevin scratched the bald spot in the middle of his short brown hair. “I’ve got one in my garage. I could be back in an hour.” Christina sighed. She’d seen the repair truck arriving at the jetty, towing a sailboat. Three people had jumped out and detached the trailer. When the driver climbed back into the truck, she’d rushed out. The mechanic had been thrilled at the prospect of an urgent job at Sunday rates, and had agreed to wait while she changed and packed her things. “How long would it take you to install the new fan belt?” Christina asked. “Half hour at the most.” She glanced at her watch. It was nearly noon, and the press conference started at two. “All right,” she said. “Go and get the part. When you get back, I’ll decide if I want to wait while you fix it, or if I want you to drive me a couple of miles down the road and fetch me back when you’re done.” “Driving you somewhere costs extra,” Kevin said, ogling her legs below the short skirt. “Fine,” Christina snapped. She’d never felt bad about using her feminine charms before, but now unease crawled along her skin. She accepted that she’d have to find some new tools of persuasion. It had seemed like a harmless game when the men were sophisticated urbanites, but now she just felt sleazy and cheap.

Was that how the man on the boat had thought of her? After he’d left to go to the pharmacy, she’d tried to restore her skirt and shoes, using the sweatshirt sleeves as a damp cloth. Doubt had churned inside her while she waited for him to return. He would come back with the emergency contraceptives, expecting her to take them. She’d be put in the difficult position of having to stand in front of him and refuse. He’d catch on to her plan, and everything good between them would be eclipsed by the argument that ensued. The impulse to leave had seized her when the opportunity arose. It was better this way. She had his Duke sweatshirt to remember him by…and perhaps a baby. A bird chirped in the trees, and for a moment her composure cracked. She had wanted to stay, to wait for him, hoping that he’d say something to change their encounter from a fling to something more serious. She’d imagined his deep voice, hesitantly saying the words. Actually, my name is… Hey, can I see you again…? By the way, what’s your telephone number…? But she’d feared that he’d say nothing, just glare at her in rage when she refused to take the emergency contraceptives. Sneaking out quietly was better. Despite the hollow feeling inside, she told herself it had been the right thing to do. **** It was already haft past one when Kevin returned. Beer and garlic wafted in his breath, revealing that precious time had been sacrificed on his lunch. “How long will it take you to fix the fan belt?” she asked. Kevin belched. “Twenty minutes, maybe a little longer.” While she waited, she passed the time by listening to the radio built into her small tape recorder, no longer worried about preserving the batteries. A local station carried a live broadcast from the press conference. The newscaster brimmed with excitement, describing the scene as if it were a major sporting event.

Clouds had gathered in the sky. The unsettled weather amplified Christina’s dark mood. It would rain again by the evening. Nature would cry, and she would probably too, if she allowed herself to think about everything that was wrong in her life. She wanted nothing more than drive to the airport and catch the next flight home, but she had a job to do. If there really was going to be a baby, she needed to earn every dollar she could. The chances of an exclusive were gone, but perhaps she could find some new angle, write a story that someone would want to buy. It had puzzled her why no journalists were driving past, but she understood when she heard the newscaster describing the lunch laid on by Futura Pharma. Everyone was already there, eating while they watched a video of Lucas Frost’s lab. When the speeches started, Kevin was still working. Christina lowered the radio from her ear and marched up. “You said twenty minutes.” “Almost done,” Kevin told her. It was nearly three o’clock when he finally slammed down the hood. “How much?” Christina asked, and was mollified somewhat by the reasonable charge. She wrote him a check and requested a receipt, hoping to pass the charge on to the rental company. Finally, she was on her way. She tried to fiddle with the dial on the car radio but couldn’t find the station. Bouncing over potholes, she hurtled down the rutted track, aware that if anything came down the other way, she’d probably crash into it. At the end of the road, she barely managed to stop without knocking down the uniformed security guard who stepped into the middle of the road to flag her down. “Name, please?” he asked, his eyes on a clipboard, his fingers clutching the pen tethered on a piece of string. “Christina Miller. Freelance.” The guard ticked her name on the list and waved her through. She parked neatly on the grass verge, the last in a long line of cars. Picking up her portable radio, she pressed it against her ear as she hurried along. The speeches were over, and the question and answer session had started. Someone from a business magazine asked about royalties. The newscaster interrupted with an explanation that

the man who answered wasn’t Lucas Frost, but the CEO of Futura Pharma, the company that had licensed the rights to his invention. Running as fast as her high heels allowed, Christina arrived within sight of the podium and the seated crowd. She stumbled. The radio slipped from her fingers, and when she caught it in mid air and pressed it back to her ear, she’d missed the question. Lucas Frost was answering. “I thought that scientists are the most dedicated people in the world, but I guess I was wrong. It has to be you journalists.” A burst of laughter from the crowd crackled through the radio. Christina’s steps slowed. There was something familiar about the deep voice. She continued past the podium, and turned around to search the row of faces that belonged to the five men in business suits. In the center sat the stranger with whom she’d spent the weekend. Lucas Frost. Freshly shaven, the tanned skin set off by a pristine white shirt under an immaculate black jacket, he spoke into the forest of microphones that cluttered the table in front of him. “I don’t think there is anything you journalists wouldn’t do to get a story,” he said. “Why do you think so, Mr. Frost?” shouted a portly man in the first row. Horror drenched her, like an icy deluge. In her mind’s eye, Christina pictured herself. She’d tried her best with her clothes and hair, but the image she presented was far from professional. Her curls hung in a tangle, and everything she wore was either dirty or rumpled or both. With a frantic look around, she checked the escape routes. Few people had noticed her arrival. Everyone was looking at the group of men behind the microphones. She picked a path that would shield her behind the trees after only ten yards, and set off in retreat across the lawn. Her high heels sank into the rich earth, and she tripped, emitting a little cry of alarm as she flailed her arms for balance. “Get her!” Lucas Frost yelled behind her. His voice echoed through the microphones. From nowhere, a burly security guard appeared to block her way. “Miss,” he shouted. “You’re not allowed near the house. That area is private.”

She charged ahead, trying to dodge him, but his fingers wrapped around her arm and held fast. Seconds later, another guard leapt forward. Holding her firmly between them, they marched her back to the podium and released her in front of Lucas Frost. “Apologies for the disruption,” he said into the microphones. “We have a latecomer.” Christina stared at him, her lips clenched, her chest rising and falling with harsh breaths. He was going to humiliate her in front of the gathered press, and by tomorrow morning she’d be a laughing stock. There’d be no place in the world remote enough for her to hide. “Perhaps you could tell me your name?” The microphones exaggerated the deep rumble of his voice. His expression was totally blank, his tone flat. Nothing gave a clue of his thoughts. After a moment of hesitation, she squared her shoulders in a defiant gesture. “Christina Miller.” She looked right at him. “Apologies for being late. My rental car broke down.” He nodded then glanced to one side and waved at a security guard. “Could you find another seat for Miss Miller and add it to the front. I want her to have a good view.” He turned to her, and a spark of anger broke through. “Unless, of course, you’d rather just walk away.” Christina studied him while an empty chair was retrieved from the back and added to the end of the first row. He sat very straight, tense enough to snap. She recalled what he’d said about hating crowds. A twinge of sympathy mixed with her resentment over how he’d put her under the spotlight. His fault this is happening, she thought darkly. He lied to me. She barely heard the questions and answers as she watched Lucas Frost. His eyes kept straying back to her, reluctantly, she assumed, but her heart began to beat faster beneath his open scrutiny. A man in the front row stood up and gestured in Christina’s direction. “I’d like to ask why you keep staring at Miss Miller.” Lucas returned his angry gaze to her. “I’m intrigued by how rumpled she looks. Her hair is in wild curls and her clothes are creased, as if she’s slept in them. I can’t help wondering what she’s tried to achieve in the last few days.” He offered her a bitter smile. “Care to enlighten us, Miss Miller, or would you rather just take off and ask someone else to say goodbye on your behalf?” Christina gave a frantic shake of her head.

She could tell Lucas was furious enough with her to conduct argument in public, trying to couch his words in obscure terms, but he didn’t know the press like she did. The undercurrents between them would be hashed and rehashed, until they turned into something neither of them would recognize. Behind the podium, the cameras turned to point at her, and she knew that her face would appear scarlet on the videotape. Even if nothing more was said, the damage had been done, and speculation about their relationship would be rife. From the corner of her eye, she saw a young woman with blond hair rise up in the third row, smiling coyly “Mr. Frost, when your picture goes up on the evening news, most of our female readers will want to know if you’re free, or if you already have a lady in your life. What should we tell them?” “I’m not sure,” Lucas said roughly. “Perhaps you should ask Miss Miller.” Christina had no idea how she came to be up on her feet. She could hear the cameras clicking, but they sounded far away. Her hands clenched into fists. “Stop it,” she said, her voice so low she had expected it wouldn’t be picked up by the mics, but it did, and her throaty whisper floated over the crowd. “Will you stay and talk to me after this is over?” Lucas asked. “It’s important.” A curious hush fell over the audience. Christina swayed on her feet, and for a moment she feared she would faint. Lucas must have noticed, because he took a hurried step in her direction. No. She wasn’t going to humiliate herself by collapsing into his arms like a lovesick fool, and then having to watch the footage on the television news. No. She hadn’t realized she’d screamed out the word, until the sharp sound of her voice, full of anguish, burst from the loudspeakers. Lucas halted, a stricken look on his face. In panic, Christina surveyed the lawns. On the left, halfway to the two portapotties, she spotted a pair of security guards whose attention had strayed to an electric cable that sent out a hissing burst of sparks. She bolted. Hurtling over the flowerbeds, she made her escape, tears stinging in her eyes.

“Let her go.” She heard Lucas give the command to the security guards, but she carried on her headlong flight regardless, down the edge of the forest, to the gravel track. Her lungs felt like bursting and her heart hammered when she reached her car. With shaking hands, she got the lock open and crammed into the seat. Please, please, she prayed. Tears of shame and anger and relief rolled down her face when the engine roared to life. She managed a jerky three-point turn and screeched down the track. As long as she lived, she would never forgive Lucas Frost. **** Lucas gritted his teeth in frustration. He’d never expected Christina would make it to the press conference. He’d assumed it would take too long to fix her car, and he’d taken it for granted that the emotional upheaval of the weekend, combined with worry over the prospect of being pregnant, would send her to seek refuge at home. He hadn’t allowed for her fierce ambition. He’d noticed how, when she first caught sight of him behind the podium and recognized him, surprise and confusion had flared on her face, but bitterness had quickly wiped out the startled expression. He’d seen the change. The rigid snap of her spine. The brown eyes that narrowed with an accusing look, as any affection she might have felt for him turned into anger. The whole afternoon had been one long nightmare. He would have hated the press conference at best of times, but now his mind had been fragmented with thoughts of Christina. Why had she left? Did she regret having slept with him? What did she think of him? Why hadn’t she waited for him to return? When and where was she going to take the birth control pills? Every second behind the podium he’d wanted to get up and go after her, to catch her before she did something that couldn’t be undone. And when she emerged from the line of parked cars, looking disheveled after their weekend together, bitterness over what she’d put him through by leaving had exploded into a toxic brew of hurt and anger. Unable to wait for privacy, he’d attacked her in public. Bad move.

Unaccustomed to dealing with emotional tangles, his nerves already strung tight because of the crowds, Lucas knew he’d made a mess of things. He had allowed the focus of the press conference to switch to Christina, and she had bolted away, running through his flowerbeds like a hare fleeing from a pack of hounds. Lucas shook his head, and asked the reporter who’d just spoken to repeat his question. Somehow, he’d have to make it through the rest of the press conference. Then he’d go after her.

Chapter Eight

Damn it. Christina slammed her palm against the kitchen counter so hard it hurt. All night, she’d tossed and turned, tormented by uneasy dreams of Lucas Frost. In her nightmares, one minute he was making love to her, and the next, he stood mocking her in front of a crowd of sniggering journalists. Why had she been so blind? The clues had been there. The educated mind, the references he’d made to the pharmaceutical industry—patents, clinical trials. Exhaustion from preparation for the press conference, where his career was about to culminate in triumph. The quick glance up the slope to the house when he explained that he could put the dirty plates in the dishwasher. She should have known. And how could she have been such a fool and been attracted to the man? He was nothing but a cad, bent on calculated seduction, out to prove his prowess by making conquests, and then boasting about it in public, like some high school stud. She’d erase him from her mind. From now on, she’d behave as if Lucas Frost didn’t exist. She’d show no reaction when his name was mentioned. She’d refuse to answer any questions about him. By ignoring the gossip, she’d force the speculation about their relationship to die down. Satisfied, Christina reached across the granite counter for the jug that had been slowly filling with coffee. She took a deep breath, inhaling the smooth aroma. She’d be strong. She’d be calm. She’d rise above the shabby machinations of Lucas Frost.

Soon her life would be back under control. The buzz of the doorbell startled her into spilling a puddle on the counter as she poured the dark brew into a cup. Damn. What could it be now? Her body grew rigid. She’d broken every speed limit in the rental car to get to the airport in time to fly home for the night. The mad dash had allowed her to avoid the crowd of journalists, who’d remained at the press conference until the end. Did someone want to come and gloat? The morning editions were out. Had it been such a slow day that her humiliation had been turned into news, splashed in full color across the lifestyle section? She could just imagine the headlines. Sex wars and journalism—the lengths a female writer will go to get the story. With a shudder, Christina replaced the pot on the hotplate, adjusted the gray sweatpants that threatened to slide down her hips, and strode through the hall to the front door. She wouldn’t hide. She’d prove to the world that she had the panache to brush off the embarrassment of having fallen for the charms of a man who chose to ridicule her in public. With a determined flick of her wrist she twisted the lock open and yanked the door wide. Lucas Frost stood in front of her, dressed in a white shirt, jeans, and a navy linen jacket. “You.” The word burst from between clenched teeth. “How dare you?” She tried to slam the door shut, but Lucas had already jammed one shiny shoe into the gap. “Christina.” His voice carried a mix of pleading and exasperation. “Let me in. We need to talk.” “I have nothing to say to you.” She braced her shoulder against the door and pushed, but her efforts achieved nothing, except possibly bruising her skin. On the boat, she’d gloried in his muscular strength. Now his physique gave him an unfair advantage. “Christina, please.” The door inched open with a slow but inexorable pressure that pushed her back into the hall. “Let me explain.” “No.” Tears of disappointment and hurt filled her eyes. Blinking furiously to keep them at bay, Christina tilted her chin to scowl up at Lucas. Her heart lurched at the sight of his rugged face. His hair glinted with dark gold, and the white button-down shirt set off his bronzed skin. “I don’t want to hear your explanations,” she muttered, but in some corner of her mind she cursed herself for slouching about uncombed, without makeup, dressed in baggy sweats.

“I’m afraid that you have no choice. We need to talk.” A tendon leapt in his jaw. After a pause, he continued in a low voice. “Did you get and take any emergency contraceptives?” The hurt and humiliation grew into a sweeping rage, and Christina seized the prospect of revenge that suddenly shimmered before her. She’d read somewhere that one of the few known facts about Lucas Frost was a fear of financial hardship. He loved science, but he loved the money his success had brought to him almost as much. Well, she’d hit him where it hurt. Her chin went up. “I didn’t take any. If I’m pregnant, I’m going to have the baby. I’ll prove that you’re the father, and I’ll hound you for every penny of child support I can legally get. You can count on that.” “You didn’t take anything?” His expression froze. A strange battle seemed to take place over his features. For a moment, Christina feared that Lucas Frost was about to lose his sanity. An image flashed through her mind of how he might leap up and strangle her with his bare hands. But he remained calm. Only his throat moved as he swallowed hard. ”Why?” he asked. “I understood you were going to.” “No, I wasn’t.” She sighed. “I did consider it. That’s why I wanted to go to your house first, before going to the pharmacy. I wanted time to think. And I decided not to.” “I see.” He shrugged, and then his big body appeared to relax. “Christina, I –” “No,” she cut in. “I don’t want to hear your explanations.” He studied her, the intensity of his gaze burning on her skin. She could read nothing in his expression. Hate, regret, defeat? What did he feel? Suddenly she longed to know, with a desperation that overwhelmed her. Her chest constricted and she knew that the tears would refuse to remain contained much longer. “Please,” she whispered. “Leave me alone.” “And if there is a baby?” Lucas asked, his voice almost as soft as hers. “Then you’ll receive a demand for maintenance through the proper legal channels.” “I see.” His words sounded absent, as if his mind were already on other things. Lines of concentration furrowed his brow. Saying nothing more, not even of giving her a nod of goodbye, he turned on his heels and strode out through the hall. Instead of taking the elevator, he bounded down the stairs. The thud of footsteps faded as the floors separated them.

Christina wanted to slam the door, but her body wouldn’t obey. Instead, she pushed the panel to a smooth close, her movements listless. Deep inside she knew that as surely as she was shutting the door on Lucas, she had just rejected a chance of happiness that might have been within her reach, if she hadn’t allowed pride to rule her heart. He’d asked for a chance to explain. Now she’d never know what he’d been trying to tell her. Christina closed her eyes, covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears. **** Lucas hurried down the street, ignoring the traffic that blared about him. The steamy New York heat pushed damp fingers under his collar. He shrugged off his jacket and slung it over his arm, with a fleeting touch to make sure that his wallet was safe in his back pocket. Christina was the one for him. The woman he wanted to share his life with. His instincts felt it with the same intuition that allowed him to recognize a good molecule, or pick holes in a scientific hypothesis. No amount of analysis gave him as much certainty as his gut feel. The certainty had been there from the moment he first set eyes on her. No, before. He’d heard it in her husky voice on his answering machine. Maybe that was why he’d been so firm in his refusal to be interviewed. He’d had a premonition that she’d break through his defenses and wreak havoc in his life. He’d been forced to let her go at the press conference, but as soon as he’d discharged his business obligations, he’d got on a plane and chased after her. She hadn’t taken any birth control pills. Elation soared through him. Lucas threw his head back and roared with laughter, drawing worried glances from the crowd lined up by the ATM. He lifted one hand in a jaunty greeting. Most people quickly turned away, but an elderly woman in a long flowered skirt teamed with a pair of black sneakers sent him a sunny smile. He almost stopped to tell her about his good fortune. Christina wanted his baby. She wanted him too. She just wasn’t ready to admit it yet. His perceptive mind told him that Christina thrived on control. She was the kind of woman who drew lists of pros and cons before making a decision. He pictured the page on her shorthand pad. Ten reasons not to have a baby.

It was clear to Lucas that the whirlwind events of the last few days had left her bereft, and her angry posturing was an attempt to restore her balance. A chuckle rose in his chest as he sauntered along. She’d soon calm down if he let her work her way through her confusion. When a salmon struggled in panic, a good fisherman let out the line, until the fish grew tired. Then he yanked in the hook. The same ought to work with a woman. He’d let Christina believe that their relationship was now only about the baby, and then he’d reel her in. Before she knew it, Christina would have his ring on her finger and share his name. He just had to figure out a way to keep her close while he worked on his plan. **** What now? With an angry frown, Christina reached for the telephone. Despite her earlier bravado, she’d skulked at home all week, keeping out of sight, completing her research on triplets for a story that would run in a Midwest local newspaper next month. “Christina Miller.” She barked out her name, preparing to deal with yet another snide comment about her role in the press conference. “Miss Miller, this is Jonathan Green from the law firm of Harris and Green. Do you have a moment?” “Yes.” The word drew out of her, full of doubt. “I represent Lucas Frost.” Fear fisted in her belly. Every day, thoughts of him crowded her mind. The way he’d touched her. His smile. The blue eyes that crinkled at the corners. The way he had held her at night, with what had felt like love. She’d really been fooled into thinking that he cared. Deep down, she’d hoped that despite her angry outburst he would return, try to explain once more, and this time she would listen. She would hear him out, and not let a chance of happiness slip through her fingers because of stubborn pride and fear of humiliation. But he hadn’t come back. “Mr. Frost has asked me to inform you that he plans to instigate legal proceedings against you.” “What?” she blurted out. “On what grounds?” “He believes that you have unlawfully acquired his sperm. If you have conceived a child using his stolen genetic material, Mr. Frost plans to sue you for the custody of the child.”

“This is ridiculous.” Anger thudded in her heavy heartbeats. “Mr. Frost informs me that he had sexual intercourse with you, based on the agreement that you would take an emergency contraceptive pill the following morning. Without consulting him, you changed your mind and took no measures to terminate a potential pregnancy.” Her stomach churned, as if she were still on that accursed boat. “He says that by doing it I…stole his sperm?” “Do you deny the accusation?” “This is crazy. Any court of law would throw out his complaint.” The lawyer cleared his throat. “Perhaps, but the publicity of his lawsuit would be most embarrassing for you. And, if a child should be born, Mr. Frost will certainly have a strong case to sue for joint custody.” Christina inhaled a sharp breath and closed her eyes. “Why is he doing this?” The words came out on a sob. Had she really been so wrong about him? During the last few days, she had decided that she’d overreacted, owed him an apology. And now he was suing her, for God’s sake. “Mr. Frost has a proposal for you,” the lawyer said smoothly. “Yes?” She whispered out the word, dreading what she might hear next. “He wants you to stay with him during your pregnancy, so he can make sure that you are taking proper steps to look after his unborn child. Once you have given birth, you are free to live as you wish, provided that you agree to a shared custody.” “What does he mean, stay with him?” “He wants you to live in his house,” the lawyer explained. “And if I’m not pregnant?” “Then you can choose never to speak to him again.” An ominous silence filled the pause that followed. “But if you claim that you’re not pregnant, you’ll need to prove it to Mr. Frost. He plans to come for you tomorrow morning.” The line clicked dead. Stunned, Christina dropped the receiver in the cradle. Unless she could prove that she wasn’t pregnant with his child, she would have to move in with Lucas Frost.

Chapter Nine

Christina’s hand shook so hard that the letters danced on the blue carton of the pregnancy test she’d rushed out to buy. The lawyer’s words rang in her ears. If you are not pregnant, you’ll never need to speak to him again. A picture of Lucas Frost formed in her mind. She saw him standing at the tiller of his boat, strong and solid. The wind tousled his hair, and the sun danced on his skin. She recalled how he’d turned to look at her, his tired features drawing into a crooked smile. A sob rose in her throat. How could she have messed up so badly? She’d never really been in love, had never felt with any man the same instant bond that defied all reason and logic. Kingdoms were given up for such love. Fortunes lost, families torn apart, religions denounced and convictions betrayed. The glow of that love had finally allowed her to see clearly and accept that she would never be another Larry King. The weight of the ten years she had wasted trying had ceased to feel like a rope around her neck. The old tarnished dream had faded, replaced by a shiny new dream of a husband and child—a family. And she had denied her new dream for the sake of foolish pride. Her hands tightened around the pregnancy test kit. What if she wasn’t carrying his child? Christina closed her eyes and barely dared to breathe. Then she blinked her eyes open and crossed the kitchen to hide the box in a drawer. The crazy demand Lucas had made to supervise her pregnancy gave her an opportunity to put things right between them. Only a fool would walk away from a second chance.

**** Lucas didn’t come for her in the morning. The man who rang her doorbell introduced himself as Jonathan Green. Tall and thin, with bland good looks and a lightweight gray suit, he looked like a lawyer. “I’m afraid Mr. Frost is detained on other business,” he said smoothly as he took her suitcase and ushered her down to a waiting limo. “Oh?” Christina frowned. She’d been torn between saying nothing, apologizing for walking out on the morning of the press conference and letting Lucas know how angry she was about him not revealing straight away who he was. It seemed she wouldn’t need to decide after all. “What business would that be?” she asked. “Personal business.” The lawyer looked out the window. “I’m not at liberty to say.” He took her to Newark, handed her a ticket, and told her that another limo would meet her on arrival. During the flight, doubt began to erode her confidence. Last night, she’d decided that the threat of a lawsuit was a joke, a means for Lucas to invite her to move in with him. An example of his lack of skill in human interaction. Now she began to wonder if she’d been wrong. What if he were serious? Already, she felt more like a parcel sent to a destination than a woman on her way to meet a man. Was his only reason for wanting her close to make sure that she ate well, didn’t drink alcohol during pregnancy and in every way maximized the welfare of their potential child? She collected her bag from the carousel and found the limo driver holding up a sign with her name on it. The journey out to Lucas’s house took two hours, first through the suburbs and then along the country roads through the forest where she’d broken down. When she got to the house, a blond young man with frameless glasses and a white lab coat came out to greet her. “Lucas is not coming home tonight,” he said. “I’m Jason, his assistant. I don’t live here but Lucas asked me to stay tonight to keep you company.” “It’s okay,” she told him. The sun was setting across the lake, flooding the huge terrace with light. “If you could just show me where everything is...” Her brows went up. “I assume there is food in the kitchen?” “Enough for an army.” Jason reached for her suitcase. “I’ll show you around.” He gave her a tour of the empty rooms and enormous kitchen with chrome counters.

“Lucas hasn’t got round to buying much furniture yet,” Jason explained. “The kitchen was fitted by the same company that did the lab. A bit clinical, huh?” He installed her in the only bedroom that actually had furniture, although one of the others had an unmade bed. In addition to the big divan with a padded headboard, there were two nightstands and a row of built in wardrobes. Rugs softened the hardwood floor and a row of oriental prints hung on one wall. “I gather that Lucas doesn’t like clutter,” Christina said. “No, that’s not it. Wait until you see the living room.” Jason smiled. “It’s just that he isn’t much of a shopper, but he doesn’t like the idea of a decorator choosing things for him.” He led her into the living room that truly was a contrast. Packed with curios and antique furniture, it would have looked like a trip into the past, if it hadn’t been for the bit flat screen television and several computers. “Lucas likes to work here in the evenings,” Jason said. “He’s always working. Except when he disappears.” Puzzled, Christina asked, “Where does he go to?” “No one knows. But he usually comes back.” After showing her how to lock up and alarm the house, including the pressure sensors beneath the lawn, Jason left her alone. She made a chicken sandwich from the tubs of ready mix fillings she found in the industrial size refrigerator. After she’d eaten and cleared up, she read a little, watched the news, and then settled in the big bed. So much for the plans she’d made for a romantic reunion with Lucas, she thought as she snapped out the light and tried not to feel lonely or frightened. **** The setting sun gilded the lake. A gentle breeze blew over the water. Soft music drifted onto the terrace through the open glass doors. Christina slumped down on a recliner and checked her watch with an impatient flick of her wrist. What an idiot she’d been when she packed seductive clothes, her head full of dreams. She’d expected that once one of them took the first step, they’d fall into each other’s arms. Only Lucas wasn’t even there. Three days now, she’d spent alone in the house. Reading and writing during the day, sometimes going for walks in the forest. Sneakers and jeans had turned out much more useful

than silk and lace. In the evenings, she watched the sun setting over the lake, thinking of Lucas, how good they’d been together. No one knew where he’d gone to. First she’d been lonely, then angry, and now she worried about him. Footsteps echoed on the timber deck, drawing her from her thoughts. “Christina.” Lucas strode up to her, dressed in beige chinos and a white shirt. Deep grooves lined his face and a haunted look filled his eyes. A purple bruise covered his jaw and a nasty cut bisected the corner of his lips. “What’s wrong?” she cried, jumping up from the recliner. The long silk dress fluttered around her legs. “Have you been in an accident?” “Yes, in a way. I’ll tell you later.” He turned to the man who had followed him. “I’d like you to meet one of my business associates.” He introduced the guest as Eric Hawkins, the CEO of Futura Pharma. “I think we met at the press conference.” The tall slim man beamed at her. “Don’t worry.” The visitor shook her hand. “Lucas has explained that you had an argument about being presented as his fiancée in the press conference. I quite understand your need to protect your privacy. My wife is the same. She refuses to attend business functions, or even have her picture taken with me.” “Fiancée?” Her eyes flickered back to Lucas. His face remained shuttered, but he was watching her with an intent look, as if to monitor the results of a scientific experiment. “I need to talk to Eric,” he told her curtly. “It will take a few hours. It’s urgent, I don’t have a choice, we have to finish a few things.” His gaze held hers. “I’ll be late to bed. After midnight. I’ll try not to wake you up.” “It’s all right.” She met the challenge in his eyes, not caring about what the stranger standing beside them might think. “I’ll be waiting.” “Good.” His voice was low and serious. “That’s settled then.” He turned to go, with a brief tap on his guest’s arm to prompt him to follow. Christina stared after them. Her heart pounded. It felt as though a long conversation had just taken place in those few guarded sentences. Lucas may not have apologized, but he had offered a rational explanation for her flight from the press conference. He’d found a way to protect her reputation, and he had announced his intention to spend the night with her.

What was happening between them? At midnight, she’d find out. **** The white nightgown was slit all the way up to her thigh and plunged deep between her breasts. Christina stood before the mirror, her hair gathered in one hand. She tugged at the silk with the other hand, inspecting the effect. No, she decided. Naked was better. She pulled the slinky garment over her head and tossed it on the back of a chair. Slipping between the cool cotton sheets, she settled down to wait, her restless gaze on the night landscape through the sliding glass doors. An owl hooted in the silence. The wind whispered in the branches of the tall pines that bordered the terrace. On her first night at the lakeside house, the lack of noise had kept her awake. No cars, no blaring sirens. No music intruding from the neighbors, no planes droning overhead. How could anyone live in such isolation? Lucas only had his lab assistant for company, and the young man spent part of his time directing a team of biochemistry students at MSU. Gradually, the peace and beauty of the lake had drawn her in. The door opened without a sound, and Lucas stepped into the room. He didn’t say anything, and Christina wondered if he could see her eyes glinting in the darkness and knew that she was awake. Moving with a silent grace, he undressed, pausing to hang the chinos in the wardrobe and toss the shirt and boxers into the wicker laundry hamper in the corner. Her gaze roamed his broad shoulders, swept down to the muscled thighs. Heat curled in her belly at the memory of his heavy weight upon her. His touch had fired up every nerve in her body. She recalled how it had felt to have him inside her, the hard pounding that had brought her to a shattering climax. He strode over to the bed, and in the darkness she saw his erection jutting up. Without a word, she flung the covers aside, and scooted back along the mattress to make space for him. In silence, he stretched out beside her, but made no move to take her into his arms. “Good night,” he murmured, pulling the covers over them. Christina froze. Every instinct told her to reach out to him. She wanted to curl into his warmth. She longed for his touch, but pride rendered her still. “Are you tired?” she asked, and heard the forlorn note in her voice. “Shattered. And I need a clear head tomorrow.”

She inspected his profile in the darkness and saw the tension in his jaw. “Your body tells me otherwise,” she countered. “My body doesn’t know any better.” Her nails dug into her palms as she fought not to touch him. “Why don’t you sleep in the other bed?” she asked. Almost absently, he rolled over to his side and threw one arm around her, pulling her close. “I’m sleeping with you because that’s what I want.” His mouth found hers in a brief kiss that took her by surprise. His lips captured hers and his tongue made a single conquering swoop inside. Then he pulled back and tightened his arm around her to tuck her head beneath his chin. “Go to sleep now,” he muttered. “We’ll talk in the morning.” All night, she basked in his warmth, dozing and waking. She’d always suspected there was no safer place to be than huddled against someone you loved. Every time she glanced at the red digits glowing on the bedside alarm, she rejoiced for the hours that remained before the dawn. She’d felt rejected when he didn’t make love to her. Now she understood she’d been wrong. Instead of passion, tonight he offered her comfort and trust and togetherness. **** “I know you are awake.” Lucas said, kissing the edge of Christina’s jaw. “Hmm.” Her sleepy daze was real, not pretense, he realized. He glanced around the bedroom, the only one in the house that had been fully furnished—not with just a bed, but with soft rugs scattered on the hardwood floor and the Chinese watercolors his accountant had told him to buy as an investment. Why did everything have to go wrong when it came to Christina Miller? He’d coerced her into moving in with him, so she would learn to trust him, could settle into a routine that allowed her to feel safe, in control. He didn’t have the luxury of courting a woman—his work was here, and she had to come to him. He’d hoped that they could bury their differences as soon as they sorted out which one was supposed to apologize first. Instead, he’d left her alone for three days. Was he doing the right thing, not making love to her?

He was a good fisherman, patient, intuitive. He’d learned how the fish behaved, could recognize the moment when they stopped fighting and gave in. But a woman was a much more complex organism than a fish. And he had little experience. “Christina?” “Hmm.” Her shoulders tensed, and he knew that she was listening. “My father had a gambling problem. It’s not public knowledge, as my parents divorced when I was ten. But he kept coming around. We never knew when, but we knew that when he did, he’d take away everything we owned. My mother could have called the cops to stop him, but she wouldn’t. She loved him too much.” Beside him, Christina rolled over but didn’t reach out for him. Her brown eyes seemed nearly black, impenetrable in the moonlight that shone in through the sliding doors where she hadn’t closed the heavy drapes. “When I was a kid, I could never trust him. He started with bookmakers. First he became distracted. He’d end a conversation mid-sentence, and rush to turn on the television or the radio. He’d be curt and morose when he lost. Then he moved on to slot machines. He started disappearing for days on end. When he’d reappear, he’d be unshaven and bleary eyed.” A slim hand crept out and gripped his arm in a comforting gesture. “He missed birthdays. His moods became mercurial. He upped the stakes to blackjack and roulette. The bank accounts drained. The house was repossessed, and we had to move to rented accommodation. Holidays were cancelled, because he went missing, or had to sell the car. Sometimes he sold the furniture too. Once he raided my piggybank for coins.” “I’m so sorry.” Her words came out on a whispered breath. He nodded in acknowledgement. “I became a scientist because I yearned for something constant, something that I could trust not to engage in random behavior. A molecule can be mapped, and it can’t be something else. Laws of nature are stable, they have a sense of permanency about them.” Only now did Lucas turn to her. “On the boat I told you that I don’t do well in relationships. That’s because I’ve avoided getting involved with people. Not just women, but people on the whole. I’ve been unwilling to risk a life of betrayal, where no single promise is honored. The press speculates that I’m afraid someone will marry me for my money and take me

to the cleaners if it doesn’t work out. That’s not true. I’m used to losing everything, down to the clothes on my back, and having to start again. I can deal with poverty. But I can’t deal with betrayal. Money is just money. Betrayal cuts through the heart.” Lucas leaned over Christina. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and he kissed it away. “That’s the secret I try to protect when I refuse to discuss my private life.” He kissed her again, and then he got out of bed and began to get dressed. “My father called me on the day of the press conference, asking for money. I told him no. Too much was going on, and I just couldn’t deal with yet another problem.” He shrugged into a shirt, the movement an aggressive thrust of his arms that didn’t release the tension. “He called again a few hours after I’d been to your apartment. He’d been borrowing from loan sharks. They were holding him hostage. I got him out, but he’s in hospital.” Christina cried out, jolted to sit up on the bed. He lifted his hand in a restraining gesture. “Not now. I’ve got obligations. People’s jobs depend on me catching up with the work I’ve missed. Later.” He walked out of the room and closed the door. Outside, he paused and expelled a harsh breath. He’d done it now, opened up to another person. It felt almost as if his gut had been sliced open with a knife.” **** Lucas waved off the departing car of Eric Hawkins. He liked the man, and accepted the obligation to look after his business interests, but today he had struggled to focus on anything but Christina. All night, her body had pressed against his, tormenting his senses. In the morning, the childhood pain he’d carried for more than two decades had finally burst into the open. If Christina wanted revenge for the way he had misled her and manipulated her, he had given her the tools. The doubt inside him grew and choked his chest. Echoes of the days he’d spent waiting for his father to reappear wrapped around him. It had torn him up as a child, wondering if he’d come back after a winning streak and shower them with gifts, his mood exultant, or if he’d return in despair, and a hard fist would knock on the door at night when a team of rough men arrived to cart away the furniture.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Betrayal or love, he had to know. By tonight, he wanted his ring on Christina’s finger, and an announcement in the newspapers for the whole world to see. Or he wanted her gone. He didn’t have the strength to be reasonable and wait. Either she loved him, or she didn’t. Lucas returned inside. He secured the fume cupboards and the storage lockers in the lab and took the covered walkway back to the house He found her standing by the railing on the terrace. The evening sun surrounded her with a warm glow, and the breeze fluttered the hem of the flimsy pink dress in some shiny material she wore. Her long dark curls cascaded loose down her back. When she heard him approach, she turned around, and he saw the sheen of tears. “What’s wrong?” He hurried up to her. Without a word, she handed him a rumpled piece of fabric. First he thought it was a handkerchief. Then he recognized a pair of silk and lace panties. He inspected them, found the smear of blood that stained the center. “I’ve got my period,” she told him, her voice thick with tears. “There’s no baby.” “But…” He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I thought you did a test.” “No.” Christina turned to the rail and appeared to find something of great interest in the whitecaps that crisscrossed the lake. “I thought…assumed, that is…but it seems I was wrong.” She shot him a glance over her shoulder. “I’ll be packed, and out of your house by tomorrow evening.” She hadn’t done a test. Elation soared inside him. He had his answer. Christina had neglected to do the one thing that would have allowed her to throw his ultimatum back at him. He moved to stand behind her and gripped the railing on either side of her, caging her in with his arms. “I think it’s time for a little emotional honesty.” He bent to nuzzle her neck. “I haven’t lied to you.” Even as she tried to protest, she leaned into him, seeking to feel the length of his body against hers. “Why are you here?” he asked. “Because you’ve ordered me to be here.” “Why didn’t you take a pregnancy test?” She gave an awkward shrug. “I don’t know why.”

“I think you do.” He leaned in to kiss the curve of her cheek. “The way this works, Christina, is that you tell the truth, and then I tell the truth. But unless you’re prepared to come clean first, you’ll never get to hear what I have to say.” She let go of the railing and twisted around to face him. Her gaze didn’t rise to meet his. She gnawed at her bottom lip. “I didn’t do the test, because I was afraid it would be negative. Then you would no longer demand that I come and stay with you, and I could have lost the chance of seeing you again.” “Why couldn’t you just admit that you wanted to be with me?” Her eyes flicked up to his face. “You deceived me about your identity. And then you suggested that I sleep with you in an exchange of favors. It was clear to me you did it to mock me for the way I tried to use my feminine assets to get what I wanted. And, after seducing me, you made a fool at me in front of the press conference. And to top it all, you threatened to sue me for stealing your sperm.” “That’s your perceived truth. Do you want to know the real truth?” She lifted her gaze up to his face again and gave a hesitant nod. “First, I didn’t tell you who I was because I was afraid that you’d wheedle out of me information that I wanted to keep private. Then, I didn’t want you to love me for my money. I asked to sleep with you because I wanted you so much that I lost my judgment. I seduced you because you allowed me to. And if you hadn’t walked out on me, I would have told you the truth before the press conference.” “What about the last part? About making a fool of me in front of the press.” He took a deep breath. “For that, I’m truly sorry. I was angry, and out of my depth.” He paused. “And now that I’m confessing my sins, there is one more. I’d planned to give you placebos, not real birth control pills. Although I changed my mind and decided to tell you who I was and let you decide about the possibility of being pregnant.” “What?” She frowned at him. “In the beginning, I wanted the press conference out of the way before I confessed who I was. I couldn’t deal with both at once. So, I was going to buy time by giving you placebos. I was going to explain everything the following day and ask you to marry me. I never expected you to make it to the press conference. When you left the boat and then turned up, looking rumpled, as

if you had just spent the weekend in bed with a stranger, I improvised—something I’m terrible at. I was going to propose to you there and then only you bolted off before I got out the words.” “You sued me for stealing your sperm,” she countered. “You were lying.” “True.” He leaned to kiss her forehead. “You were too angry to listen to my explanations. You wanted a fight, so I gave you one.” “I’m not pregnant.” Her eyes blinked at him, huge brown pools. “I’m hoping to remedy that very, very soon.” Lucas released his grip on the railing and bent to scoop Christina in her arms. “Wait,” she cried out as he carried her across the terrace to the direction of the bedroom. “What?” “Are you asking me to marry you?” “Yes,” he said. “I’ll marry you on one condition,” she told him. “What?” He balanced on one foot, using the other foot to push open the sliding door. “That you’ll never lie to me again.” “Agreed,” he said. “Life will be easier if from now on we both tell the truth.” “All right,” she said. “I’ll go first. I love you.” The hard slam of happiness in his chest made Lucas stumble, and Christina gave a little shriek of fear in his arms. “And I love you too,” he said, and lowered her on the big four-poster bed.

About the Author

Tatiana March writes contemporary and historical romance, as well as romantic suspense. Learning to Forgive is her seventh published book.

In her spare time, Tatiana enjoys hiking and camping, particularly in Arizona where some of her historical novels are set.

Tatiana lives in Buckinghamshire in the UK.

Tatiana loves to talk to her readers and can be found at tatianamarch.com.

Also Available from Resplendence Publishing

Lie to Me by JL Wilson Grace Jamison has always been unlucky in love but this is ridiculous. What was supposed to be a blind date has turned into an FBI sting operation, complete with handsome Special Agent Ben Braden, a train ride and chase through the Badlands, and a final confrontation at a safe house— which turned out to be not so safe. If she can survive that, she can probably survive having her heart broken by Ben...unless she can convince him to take a chance on love.

Secrets of the Heart by Jannifer Hoffman Nicole Anderson owns a successful costume design business, has a wealth of small town friends and sleeps in a lonely bed haunted by demons from the past. She’s convinced herself her life is exactly the way she wants it and has shot down every marriageable man within a fifty-mile radius. When Hunter Douglas is assigned the task of delivering a deceased friend’s children to their aunt, he must first convince the belligerent Nicole Anderson that she actually had a sister. Though forced to take his two charges to Minnesota, Hunter fully intents to persuade Ms. Anderson to allow the children to return to New York with him —without sharing his own little secret. The last thing he wants to do is fall in love with a woman who lives in a small Midwest town with neighbors who seem to know every move he makes. As the heat index between Nicole and Hunter rises, a bizarre puzzle begins to unfold involving false birth certificates, a stolen suitcase, odd pictures, an elusive stalker, and a grandfather’s legacy that could turn deadly.

Home for a Soldier by Tatiana March Grace Clements is unemployed, lonely and broke. When she agrees to marry Rory Sullivan before he ships out to Iraq, she expects nothing but a Las Vegas wedding, a key to his New York apartment, and a divorce two years later. Instead, she gets a three-day honeymoon and a heart full of dreams of what could be... if he loved her. Ten years ago, Rory Sullivan lost someone he loved. He gave up a life of wealth and privilege and joined the army. Hiding behind a wall of isolation, he avoids all emotional ties - until injury

sends him home to recuperate. Home to Grace, whose quiet dignity and gentle concern break through his defenses. As Rory fights his feelings, his gruff resistance drives Grace away. But even when he believes she has betrayed him, he can no longer forget her. Can he make peace with his past in order to win back his wife?

The Bargain by Desiree Holt Lara McKee's life came to a crashing halt the night her husband was killed in a carjacking and she lost their unborn child. Now she channels all her energy into her job as assistant to Cole Cassidy, sexy CEO of Alamo Construction. Cole's own life is a mess. A shotgun marriage based on a lie and the fiery death of his wife on the highway have left him with a child to raise that's a constant reminder of his first wife's lies and deceit. Both of them have written marriage out of their future. But Cole desperately needs someone to mother the child and take charge of his personal life. When he proposes a marriage of convenience to Lara, who still yearns for motherhood, she shocks herself by accepting. And so these two people, carrying a van load of emotional baggage, begin to build a life together under almost impossible circumstances. Conflict builds over the child, whom Lara falls in love with at once and Cole ignores. Beneath the daily conflict, love unexpectedly begins to grow. But at the moment they dare to explore their feelings, anger over the child erupts and the night turns into a disaster that nearly destroys the marriage. Slowly, bit by bit, they begin to re build their relationship, carefully nurturing these new feelings. But it takes another near-tragedy before they can finally get past the hurdles to complete happiness and truly become a family.

Checkmate by Kris Norris For years he’s hidden in the shadows…watching…hunting. His attempts have never been successful, until now. And his game is just beginning. Kendall Walker and her brother, Trace, share a passion for adventure racing. But when Trace is kidnapped by a psychotic figure from their past, Kendall finds herself immersed in an adventure race beyond anything she’s ever known. And if she doesn’t reach each checkpoint in time, Trace will die. She’ll do anything to get her brother back, even surrendering to a man intent on becoming her lover. Luckily for her, Dawson has other plans. Special Agent Dawson Cade doesn’t know how his life went from complacent to complicated in what feels like a heartbeat. He has absolutely no leads on the bastard terrorizing Kendall, and he can’t stop himself from wanting to take her into his bed. He knows he needs to keep distant, but when circumstances force him to succumb to the desires of a man intent on possessing Kendall, Dawson must face the truth. He’s going to be Kendall’s next lover, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

And as the race begins, he can only hope he’s able to save Trace, and keep Kendall from sacrificing herself, in a game where even victory has a price.

Harvest Moon by Janet Eaves After her sadistic husband is dead, Winifred Butler believes herself finally free of his horror. But he continues to torment her from the grave as his secrets and lies, treason and terror, bring Agent Tom Green to her door. She is as determined to keep her past a secret as Tom is committed to bringing her secrets to light. Only one of them can win. So both must fight the attraction to the other, knowing they have everything to lose…

A Perfect Escape by Maddie James A changed identity. A secluded beach. A sniper. Megan Thomas is running for her life. From Chicago, from the mob, from her husband. She runs to the only place she feels safe—a secluded cottage on an east coast barrier island. Smyth Parker is running from life. From work, from society, from a jealous ex-wife—his only consolation the solitude of Newport Island. He doesn’t need to anyone to screw up that plan. And he sure as hell doesn’t need to complicate it with Megan Thomas. But when Megan fears she’s been found, she runs to the only safe place she knows, and straight into the arms of the one person who might be able to help, Smyth. Her escape might yet still be perfect. Or is it?

Rough Edges by Jannifer Hoffman When Julia Morgan M.D. miscarries twin girls, she divorces her husband, believing he is to blame. He forces her out of her position at the hospital and threatens her credibility as a doctor if she attempts to practice medicine. Without mentioning her medical degree, Julia accepts a position as nanny on a Colorado ranch 900 miles away. Dirk Travis is in trouble. His wife has gone missing, and his housekeeper is threatening to quit. He is in desperate need of a reliable person to look after his four-year-old twins. Even though Julia appears to be the answer to his prayers, he can’t help but think she’s a bit too perfect. Both insist their relationship will be business only. While those plans start to go awry, other things begin to happen. People are getting killed and Dirk is the prime suspect, but that doesn’t stop the heat index from rising between Dirk and Julia, even as she appears to be the next target.

Worlds Apart by Kris Norris Two cultures—one dusty planet. Intergalactic relations have never been so hot. Starship Captain Samantha Grier has only two options—crash land her warship on an unknown planet inhabited by God knows what, or drift through space. She never counted on becoming part of a colony of barbarians, or becoming the center of attention for their illustrious leader…a man more than capable of claiming both her heart and her body. Too bad not everyone is thrilled by the new sleeping arrangements. Griffin can’t believe his good fortune. Not only did the humans arrive just as their power grid was failing, but their Captain is a vision of beauty. With blue eyes and fair skin, he knows instantly that she’s his intended mate. But claiming her is the easy part. When brutal attacks bring the two cultures to the brink of war, will he be able to keep the colony together, while maintaining his role as her mate? Or will the tension leave them worlds apart?

Find Resplendence titles at the following retailers

Resplendence Publishing www.ResplendencePublishing.com Amazon www.Amazon.com Barnes and Noble www.BarnesandNoble.com Target www.Target.com Fictionwise www.Fictionwise.com All Romance E-Books www.AllRomanceEBooks.com Mobipocket www.Mobipocket.com 1 Place for Romance www.1placeforromance.com