Jen Smith dragged the rubber dinghy above the high-tide mark. Ignoring the herd of elephants that stampeded through her stomach, she walked purposefully across the clinging white sand and up the bank beneath the massive, sweeping branches of the pohutukawa trees.
By the time she stepped out onto the lawn at the top, adrenaline had honed every sense into full alert. But no sirens shrieked, no searchlights blazed into her face, not a single armed guard burst menacingly out of the shrubbery.
If this was how multimillionaires lived, every cop show she'd watched had got it all wrong.
And then her mouth dried in a primitive response, and she had to stop herself from bolting back to the safety of the dinghy. Someone, somewhere, had her in their sights.
"I assume you know you're trespassing." The deep, cold voice came from behind.
Shock cramping her stomach, Jen whirled and saw the speaker, big and still and threatening in the dense shade of the trees.
"Ah — yes." Her voice emerged as a shameful croak. Towering over her, despite her own above-average height, he had the kind of bold, angular face Shannon sighed over. The thought of her pretty younger sister gave Jen the strength to say trenchantly, "Are you Kemp Woodruffe? Because if you are, I've been trying to contact you."
His eyebrows rose in arrogant enquiry. "I am. Who are you, and what do you want?"
"I'm Jen Smith," she returned, struggling with impotent anger. "Shannon's sister."
Overhead, a gull shrieked in wild laughter. "Am I supposed to know who Shannon Smith is?" Kemp Woodruffe asked satirically.
"As she's pregnant with your child, I'm certain you know her." A brief gust of nausea shook her when a contemptuous smile hardened his mouth. She stiffened her spine; Shannon had no one else but her, and she was not going to back down.
"She is not pregnant with my child," he said with soft, lethal conviction.
Sweat sprang out at her temples and across her upper lip. If it hadn't been for the misery in her sister's face when she'd finally admitted the name of her lover, Jen might almost have believed him, but she met his intimidating gaze without fear and told him flatly, "She says you are, and I believe her."
He stepped from the shadows into the rays of the late afternoon sun, its warm light playing across a face that radiated a charismatic, forceful masculinity. No wonder he'd found his way into Shannon's susceptible heart.
Jen's mouth dried again when he ordered, "Get off my property and don't come back. Ever."
The implied threat lifted the hair on the back of her neck. "I expected you to deny it," she retorted disdainfully, turning away. "So I'll go to the newspapers tomorrow."
Before she'd reached the top of the bank, strong fingers closed on her bare arm with just enough strength to stop her without hurting her. She froze, an unexpected sizzle of sensation temporarily frying her brain as instinct warned her there'd be no getting away from that grip.
Bewildered, she looked up into icy blue eyes, and the sizzle blazed into a flash fire. He was too close — and the touch of his long fingers against her skin was doing weird things to her pulse. Appalled, she realized that she was physically attracted to him.
"Extortion is a crime," Kemp Woodruffe said almost conversationally. "Convince me not to ring the police."
"I haven't tried to extort anything from you." Rightful indignation rang through the words.
"Your threat to carry your story to the newspapers wasn't blackmail?" Scrutinizing her with grim calculation, he let the silence linger.
His long lashes should soften that compelling face, Jen thought crazily; so should a tiny crease at one side of his mouth, as though his smile was a little lopsided. Neither did. He looked every inch the man who'd dragged a failing boatyard to a preeminent position — assured, sophisticated and crackling with dynamic power.
And then cold common sense saved her. This man has made love to Shannon. He's the father of her child.
Her face must have revealed her swift revulsion, because he frowned, lean fingers tightening for a second on her arm. "I make a very bad enemy," he observed, not bothering to conceal the threat this time.
Hoping he couldn't see the rapid throbbing of the pulse at her throat, Jen swallowed. "Shannon's in her first year at university," she said curtly. "She's clever and she'll go a long way, but she needs temporary support while she has your baby."
"Money, of course," he said in a disgusted voice, letting her go as though touching her disgusted him. "Well, Jen Smith, I'm not having my reputation trashed by a greedy kid, so we'll do this the scientific way with a simple DNA test."
"Shannon —"
"— is lying," he interrupted brutally.
Jen glared at him, dark eyes glittering with a complex mixture of dislike and feverish, mindless awareness that drove her to blurt, "She made love with you in your room in this house — on a huge sleigh bed with a copper-and-blue silk bedspread."
Long lashes half-hid his eyes for taut moments. "All right," he said eventually in a controlled, emotionless tone that sent a shiver of foreboding down her backbone. "I'll take you back to wherever it is you live."
Automatically she answered, "Two bays south, but you don't need to —"
"It's that, or we go inside and wait for the police," he said with soft menace. "I've had enough of this."
He meant it. Fuming, and a little scared, Jen shrugged and started down the path to the beach, but over her shoulder she called, "I won't let you intimidate her. She's incredibly fragile — she thought you were going to marry her!"
"More fool her," he said caustically.
Overbearing rat! Jen bit back the hot, corroding words that threatened to tumble out. This man was the father of her niece — or nephew; she might despise him but he was going to be part of her life from now on, and fighting wasn't going to help Shannon or the child.
He helped her haul the dinghy into the water, then got in and directed her to the very smart runabout she'd noticed on her way ashore. He tied the dinghy to it, but before he could start the engine a short sharp buzz pierced the silence.
"Excuse me," he said abruptly. "I'm expecting a call."
Jen removed herself to the stern of the runabout, glad she wasn't the person on the other end when she heard his cold, quietly furious tone. After several minutes he came back with a grim face and switched on the engine. Jen watched him, relaxing when she realized he knew what he was doing.
Back at their bay, Shannon was perched on a pile at the end of the wharf. She'd washed the tearstains from her lovely face and changed her clothes, and she stood up to catch the rope, looping it efficiently over a bollard before smiling at them, her eyes lingering with frank interest on Kemp Woodruffe.
"Hello," she said brightly.
And when Jen stared at her, she laughed a little and chided, "Jen, why don't you introduce us?"
Jen continued to stare at her sister without blinking. "What do you mean?" she finally said. "Don't you…" She glanced back at the glowering man her sister had named as the father of her unborn child. "Don't you already know him well enough?"
A shadow of a frown crossed Shannon's pretty face. "I can't recall meeting him. And I'm fairly certain I'd remember if I had."
"I don't understand." Jen was thoroughly confused, and she didn't like it one bit. "Shannon… this is him!" Jen gestured vaguely at her sister's slim figure, which, thanks to the man climbing out of the runabout, wouldn't stay that way much longer. "Kemp Woodruffe," she added.
Instantly, her sister paled. "No. No, that's not Kemp."
"Would you like to see some ID?" The man in question reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "What will do the trick? Driver's license, boating license, insurance card, blood donor…"
Jen cut off his dry words with a sharp, "Shannon, what's going on here? You told me that he's responsible for the baby. And now… what? He's not?"
"He is." Tears appeared at the corners of Shannon's eyes. "But that's not him. That's not the man I…" She trailed off.
"Perhaps I can help clear this up," Kemp said, tucking his wallet back into the jeans that molded so well to his lower body.
Feeling guilty for making her sister cry, Jen snapped at Kemp. "I think you've done quite enough."
"Shannon, did the man you were with have blond hair and blue eyes?" Kemp asked.
She nodded, wiping at her tears.
Kemp uttered a foul curse and ran a hand down his face. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you've been had."
Kemp's words, while spoken as gently as Jen figured the rough man could be, only made Shannon cry harder. Putting her arms around Shannon's slender shoulders, Jen gave him the dirtiest look she could muster. "You said you could clear this up. Start clearing."
The expression on his face somehow made her stomach tighten and her breath catch. "If you're still looking to blackmail someone, look no further than my half brother, Patrick." His mouth twisted into the strangest smirk. "But don't expect to get much support out of him. It's a rare day that he has a dollar to call his own… which is why he has no problem masquerading as me."
"He told me that his name… was Kemp," Shannon said, her words muffled by Jen's shirt. "He said I was beautiful and that he wanted to marry me."
"That sounds like Patrick." The shipyard millionaire shook his dark head. "Sorry it had to be you."
Because he genuinely sounded so, Jen held her tongue until he shot her a hot, hard look and said, "I suppose you'll be wanting to pound on his door, now?"
Her eyes narrowed. What right did he have to be so flippant? Her sister had been lied to and betrayed by his brother. The case of mistaken identity hadn't exactly been Shannon's fault. Although, a little voice in the back of Jen's mind whispered that she could have approached the whole situation with a little less accusation.
She couldn't help it. Shannon was her sister, as well as her best friend. For more years than she could remember, she'd practically raised the girl who was now quietly crying on her shoulder. She'd promised her parents on their deathbeds that she would protect Shannon from everything and everyone. And that included Kemp Woodruffe's irresponsible brother.
"Point me in the right direction, and I will."
Kemp could admire the spit and fire in conjunction with the entire package. Jen Smith was a tidy one, trim and determined with a professional manner tempered by obvious compassion for her sister's troubles. The good looks he saw weren't conventional, but she was certainly more appealing than any so-called beauty he'd seen of late. Once upon a time, before his father's death, before his ex-wife, and before his entire life was changed by money and the people who wanted it from him, she would have been the type of woman he asked out.
But his eyes were trained now to spot the early signs of greed. Attractive as she might have been, Jen Smith hadn't wasted any time tracking him down and demanding a piece of him when she thought her sister deserved it. He had enough of that from his stepmother, the women who pushed to become Mrs. Woodruffe, and the other innocents who'd fallen for Patrick's smooth lines and baby-blue eyes; he didn't need any more.
What he needed was a woman who wanted to settle down, have children and live her life with him. But he would never find that until he found a woman he could trust.
"If you're determined to make Patrick pay, I won't hold you back," he told Jen, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I've already told you — don't expect to squeeze much money out of him. You'd have better luck sticking to your first claim, and declaring me responsible."
She shook her head suddenly, the sunlight catching highlights in her hair that he hadn't noticed before, dark reds and threads of gold. "Look, I'm capable of apologizing when necessary. I acted rashly and accused you with just the facts I had." The woman in front of him hesitated. "I'm sorry."
They were never easy words to say, but she earned grudging points of respect for saying them. "I'm not sure I can accept that," Kemp told her.
"What more do you want?" Jen's grip on her sister tightened. "As you can tell, it hasn't been a good day for us."
A thought hit him and before he had time to process it, he found himself saying it out loud.
"There's a dinner I have to go to tonight. I'll overlook our bad first impressions —" he gave her a cool smile "— if you'll be my escort."
"Relax, sis," Shannon said, as she twisted Jen's long, dark hair into a sophisticated chignon. She stepped back to admire her work. "Stunning!" she pronounced.
Jen turned to the full-length mirror, almost afraid to look. Her life as a marine biologist didn't warrant dressing up much. She was terribly out of practice. Glancing at her delicate, stiletto-clad feet and finding them, well, sexy, she shored up the courage to continue upward past her shapely, muscular calves to the handkerchief hem of Shannon's best dress.
The full skirt swirled around her legs as she turned to peer over her shoulder, a moue of doubt forming on her full lips as she viewed the back. Facing front, she thanked her lucky stars for the blessing of small, rounded breasts that required no support. The spaghetti straps and low-dipping back of the dress made wearing a bra impossible. Jen frowned.
"Do you think it's too revealing?" she asked her sister doubtfully.
"You're having dinner with a handsome man. Nothing is too revealing," her sister laughed.
"Maybe that attitude is what got you where you are today," Jen pointed out caustically, then immediately regretted her sharp tongue as her sister's face crumpled. "I'm sorry, Shannon." She put her arms around her sister and held her. "That was uncalled for. I'm just so nervous. Why did I agree to this, anyway? I just met the man."
"Because guilt, my dear Jen, has always been your worst enemy."
Shannon was right. She had always had a tendency to overcompensate when she felt an injustice had been done. It was what had driven her to raise her sister when their parents had died. It had dictated her choice of career. Now, it was leading her to have dinner with the most arrogant, self-important man she had ever met.
Unfortunately, like him or not, she had been unfair to Kemp Woodruffe. She sighed. It was only one evening. Besides, he had thrown in the extra bonus of agreeing to take her to his brother the next day. He'd probably set his brother down a peg or two as well. Then she would never have to see the man again, right?
"Kemp, darling!" A stunning, fortyish woman rushed to the door to greet them.
"Hello, Monica," Kemp answered, ignoring the offered cheek.
Was this the woman Kemp had told her about on the car ride over? Jen wondered. Apparently, Kemp had been fighting off suitable "partners" for months. Her job was to make it appear as if he was no longer in the market.
She did a quick assessment of the other woman. If this was her competition, she couldn't figure out why Kemp was putting her off. Jen was nowhere near as glamorous.
Of course, Monica wasn't competition, Jen thought with a sinking heart. She didn't have time to analyze why it should matter. Kemp was drawing her forward, making introductions.
Monica's eyes narrowed slightly with distaste before she pasted on a phony smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Smith. Are you new to the area? Kemp has never mentioned you."
"Some secrets are better kept," Kemp answered, smiling charmingly at Jen. Their eyes met, and Jen's heart did a little skip.
Look away, she commanded herself, but found that she couldn't. Something flashed in those blue eyes, sending a jolt of awareness into her brown ones, and she felt her insides melt.
He squeezed her hand, the spark of electricity his touch ignited serving to sharpen her senses. Remembering her assignment, she leaned slightly into him. A startled look flashed across his face before he covered it with his usual sardonic one.
"Darling," she purred, looking up at him, "it really is time we stopped hiding, isn't it?"
God help him, Kemp thought. What had he gotten himself into? First of all, he had acted rashly by inviting Jen here tonight without thinking it through. Now here he was, playing the doting lover, and he was actually enjoying it. Or more specifically, he was enjoying that Jen was playing along.
Remembering how they had met made no difference. He knew her to be a gold digger. Hadn't she tried to blackmail him earlier this evening? Of course, he had figured out immediately who the real father of Shannon's baby was, and the timely phone call from his half brother, Patrick, had confirmed it. So why hadn't he just told Jen and let her find her own way home?
You want her, his wayward mind replied. That's why. And that was also why he replied to Jen's coy comment the way he did.
"You're right, as usual, sweetheart. Monica, you have the honor of being the first to know that Jen and I are going to be married."
Jen's jaw dropped, and Kemp quickly did the only thing he could think of to hide her dumbstruck expression. Drawing her to him, he bent his head and kissed her senseless.
Her hands had instinctively grabbed his shoulders as he pulled her to him, her body stiff and unyielding. Keeping one arm around her waist, he slid his other hand up her bare back to softly massage the nape of her neck. She groaned softly, her body relaxed, and she pressed into him. He plundered the inside of her mouth with his tongue, coaxing a response from her before regretfully drawing away.
Her dazed eyes met his, her face slightly flushed. Pressing her fingertips to her swollen lips, she willed away the memory of his kiss, knowing that she had never been kissed like that before, and probably never would be again. He took her hand from her lips and held them tenderly to his.
As the whole room erupted in applause, Jen pulled her hand from his grasp and turned and fled, her promise to Kemp be damned.
Caught off guard by Jen's hasty retreat, Kemp glanced around the room, his eyes stopping at Monica's smugly satisfied smirk. That was all it took to make him quickly recover, flash a charming smile and say in a voiced tinged with humor, "She's a little shy around large groups of people. Excuse me while I go coax her back."
He found Jen outside, looking for something in her purse. Her back was to him and he put his hands on her shoulders, and was once again taken aback when she whirled around and slapped him across the face.
"I'm sorr…" he began, but Jen quickly cut him off.
"Don't you dare apologize to me! Who do you think you are? I see now where your brother's boorish behavior stems from. It appears it runs in the family." Her face was red with embarrassment and anger, but she appeared to be trying to make an effort to calm down.
"I don't have to listen to accusations for the second time today. You need to ask yourself why you are so flustered. Are you upset that I kissed you, or that you liked it?" He said, anger clouding his features.
Jen's anger deflated like a balloon as she realized he was right. She was upset at her reaction to the kiss — not that he had kissed her. Even now, her lips, along with other parts of her, were tingling with the memory of it, and she craved another taste. She couldn't let him know, though. He was just acting; trying to ward off suitors that he wasn't interested in. How could he possibly find her attractive if he wasn't the least bit interested in someone as beautiful and glamorous as Monica? Jen knew the answer to that. He didn't. Why did it bother her so much? She didn't even know this man!
Swallowing her pride for the second time that day, she said, "I'm sorry I slapped you; that was uncalled for. I was just in shock, what with suddenly finding out that I'm engaged and getting a passionate kiss in front of a bunch of strangers. I didn't know what to do." She managed a sheepish smile and waited for him to say something.
To her surprise, the anger faded from his face almost as quickly as it appeared, and he gave a boisterous laugh. "Well, I might have warned you," he said with good humor. "Truthfully, I didn't know what I was going to say until it came out. The kiss may have been a bit rash, too. Do you think it was too much?" he asked with an attempt at humor.
"Maybe it was a little over the top," she said, smiling.
"What do you say we go back in there?" Kemp said, offering Jen his arm.
Backing up slightly, Jen said, "I can't go in there and face all of those people. I made an utter fool of myself! There's nothing that would make me go back in there and be the joke of the evening. I can never convince those people that we're engaged after running out like that."
Sighing, Kemp put down his arm and tried to pacify her. "It was not that bad. Nobody thinks you're a joke. They just think you're shy."
Jen shook her head and stepped back another step. "I just can't do it!"
"What if I told you that Patrick will never take responsibility for his child? I can take you to him, as we agreed, but he is not likely to see the gravity of your sister's situation. And even if he did, he has nothing of his own — he is completely reliant on me. But, if you continue acting as my fiancée for as long as I want you to, I am personally prepared to guarantee that neither Shannon nor her child will ever want for anything," he said, offering his arm again.
Jen hesitated, she really did not want to go back in there, and she didn't want to be his pawn anymore. She felt slightly dirty, as if he had offered to "buy" her.
This wasn't about her, however. It was about Shannon. She could not pass up an offer that would help secure her sister's and her niece or nephew's future. She resignedly took his arm, saddened by the realization that he really was only using her.
Relieved that Jen took his arm, Kemp led her back into the room, where applause greeted them again. He glanced at his "fiancée," fearing she would dart away again, but he saw that she had pasted on a wide grin to play her part. His heart sank as he realized that money — not her feelings for him — had made her come back inside with him. He had been right about her all along.
Why did it matter so much to him? In his mind, he realized that he didn't even know her and shouldn't care this much that she was just like all the other women. The reaction of his body was a different story. His heart raced and his breath grew shallow as he remembered what it felt like to caress her flawless skin. Warmth spread throughout his body when he thought of her pressing against him, when their lips were fused together with passion.
Monica's grating voice quickly cooled his fantasy when she said to Jen, "I'm so glad you came back, dear." Mockery rang in every word "Do let us see your engagement ring."
Kemp masked his rage at Monica's sarcastic remark by turning a — hopefully — adoring gaze to his anxious fiancée.
"I'm still trying to convince her to wear one." Looking back at Monica with a sardonic smile, Kemp continued, "Unlike most females, Jen doesn't care for ostentatious jewelry."
His smile turned to indulgent amusement as he returned his gaze to Jen. "I guess my little environmentalist is having trouble adjusting to a more lavish existence."
Kemp knew everything he had just said was pure drivel, but he silently wished Jen were the type of woman that would marry him even without expensive jewels. He was rewarded for his efforts by Monica's visible frustration and Jen's confusion.
Deciding to quit while he was ahead, Kemp again addressed Monica. "If you will excuse us, there are several people wanting to meet my future wife." Without giving either woman a chance to say anything, Kemp gently but firmly linked arms with Jen and began working the room.
The next few weeks were undoubtedly the strangest of Jen's life so far. By day, she remained the focused marine biologist. But by night, she continued in the increasingly difficult role of Kemp Woodruffe's fiancée. It was becoming difficult because Jen was finding herself increasingly attracted to the man. Although his behavior toward her continued to veer from coolly cynical to mildly amused, Jen was beginning to see the man behind the mask. Unfortunately, that man appealed to her on several levels.
Kemp was the most attractive man she had ever known, but beyond that, he was intelligent and supremely confident. Whether they were making the rounds at yet another dinner party or simply dining alone in one of the many elegant restaurants he said they should be seen at, Kemp was always in control of the situation. Although she found his confidence very alluring, Jen had to remind herself that this "relationship" would last only as long as Kemp found it beneficial. He was not now, and would never be, hers.
For now, Jen was trying to be content that Shannon was getting excellent medical care and didn't seem to have a worry in the world. But Jen knew Shannon needed her now more than ever. Kemp had been right about Patrick — the man didn't exactly deny paternity, but he also hadn't offered to be any kind of father to Shannon's baby. Soon after Jen had confronted him, he'd left on an extended "vacation."
Since Jen's own life had already been on hold for several years, it didn't bother her to set her own goals aside once again for the sake of her younger sister, though Jen could tell the situation perplexed Kemp.
Kemp couldn't figure out the Smith sisters. After playing the drama queen, Shannon now appeared quite content to accept the medical and financial help he was providing. Shannon did not appear to be concerned that Jen's life was in complete upheaval, or that Kemp was taking advantage of the situation. Kemp was beginning to feel a little guilty, but still he did not release Jen from the agreement. Kemp was also afraid he might have misjudged the fiasco entirely.
Shannon might be a gold digger, but maybe she was just spoiled rotten. As for Jen, she didn't seem to have a materialistic bone in her body, unless it pertained to taking care of her sister. Kemp had really enjoyed their pretend dates, and he reluctantly admired Jen's misguided devotion to her sister.
What made Kemp really uncomfortable, however, was the tugging attraction he was beginning to feel for her. He found himself using any excuse to touch her. He was fascinated by the soft, fragrant skin that covered her feminine but well-toned body. Kemp knew Jen would not be considered beautiful by conventional standards, but she had a seductive attractiveness. Under any other circumstances, he would be campaigning for a spot in her bed.
As Kemp arrived at Jen's home to escort her to their latest dinner engagement, he was still trying to convince his body that it would not be experiencing any relief in the near future. But all thoughts of bedroom activities were completely obliterated when Jen met him at the door with a tear-stained face. Her totally devastated expression tore at his very soul with a surprising intensity.
"Darling, what's wrong?" Kemp didn't realize the endearment had slipped out until he met Jen's surprised stare.
Jen seemed to muster all her strength before responding, defeated, "My sister has decided to put the baby up for adoption."
Kemp stood stupefied as he tried to find the words to handle this turn of events.
"Since Patrick wants nothing to do with her or the baby, Shannon says she simply can't raise a child on her own, with or without our help," Jen explained.
Kemp wasn't surprised by Shannon's decision. She was obviously not ready to take on the responsibility of another life. What did surprise him was that her choice seemed to put the needs of her child first, ahead of Shannon's own desire for financial support from Kemp.
But Kemp knew Shannon's decision had to be hurting Jen. She had put her life on hold time and again for her family, and would have continued to do so for the baby whose arrival she was now happily anticipating. Obviously, family was the most important thing in Jen's life.
Looking into her sad but still gorgeous brown eyes, Kemp didn't know what to do but give in to his intense desire to take her in his arms.
Kemp said in a quiet voice that sent a cold shiver down her spine, "What made Shannon decide to put the baby up for adoption?"
Guarded eyes meeting his, Jen resisted the comfort he offered until a long sigh shook her and she buried her face in his shoulder. Shannon's bombshell had demolished the armor she'd built around her emotions, exposing the stark truth.
She loved Kemp. The thought of never seeing him again was ripping her apart, so the masquerade engagement had to finish right now.
"She doesn't feel mature enough to be a good mother." Unshed tears burned behind her eyelids.
His arms contracted around her; driven by desperate longing, she lifted her face. One kiss, she thought feverishly, and then she'd say goodbye.
The tension that had been building between them, stoked by every casual touch, each frustrating hour of self-discipline, exploded into heated desire as their mouths met. Although it began as an offering of comfort, the kiss transmuted into the fierce hunger she'd fought since their first meeting.
Sensation, thick and sweet as honey, dangerous as a bushfire, rioted through her. This was Kemp, and she loved him so much…
Against her lips he rasped, "Jen, are you sure?"
"Very sure," she returned, drowning in sensation.
Laughing deeply, he swung her up into his arms to carry her to her room; once there he kicked the door closed and slid her down onto her feet. His magnificent arousal set every cell in her body storming into clamorous urgency. When he began to strip the clothes from her eager body she reciprocated, jerking his buttons free and watching him shrug off his shirt. Light gleamed in golden swaths over the supple, sleek skin that tightened beneath her fingertips.
With a fierce smile she led him to the bed, and to an earthy, potent rapture she had never experienced before.
Afterward, he rested a fingertip on the tumultuous pulse at her wrist. His voice cool and withdrawn, he said, "If we got married we could adopt the baby."
Jen froze. He was offering her an impossible heaven. "A practical marriage?" Her voice trembled on the final word. "No."
He surveyed her face with unreadable eyes. "Why not?" he asked implacably.
"Apart from the fact that we're not in love? In real life loose ends can't be neatly tied in a bow," she told him, curtness sharpening each painful word. "Shannon hopes for an open adoption so she — we — won't lose touch with the child." She swallowed. "You and your brother are off the hook — I can support her until the baby's born. So our temporary engagement is over."
Kemp sat up, turning away. His wide tanned shoulders — marked, she realized with a sick humiliation, by her fingernails — blocked out the light. "You have it all planned out," he said caustically.
Her lips stretched in a hard, mirthless grimace. "You don't need a fake fiancée. You're more than capable of freezing off any woman you don't want." She hesitated, then added in a rush, "But if you need me for — well, if there's any other occasion —"
"None that I can think of." Beneath the indolent tone, anger flicked like a whip. Kemp got to his feet and loomed over the bed, his features clamped into an angular mask. "So what was this about?"
His ice-blue gaze swept her body in a sardonic survey that brought shamed color rushing to her skin. He was completely at home with his nakedness, whereas she felt exposed and defenseless.
When she didn't answer he gave a thin smile. "A goodbye present? Or payment for the money I offered Shannon?"
Unbearably hurt, she scrambled off the bed and concealed her body with her dressing gown — the body he had loved with such heart-shaking intensity only a few minutes before. Anger was good; it gave her strength. "Neither. Please go."
He looked at her with contempt. "You've forgotten one thing."
Jen's hands stilled on the belt of her robe. "What?"
He stooped and picked up his clothes. "This child is a member of my family, too."
He strode off into the bathroom, leaving her bewildered and wretched as she scrambled back into her clothes. When he emerged, fully dressed and with that formidable self-possession intact, she asked uncertainly, "What did you mean?"
"I was just reminding you." He smiled dangerously at her wary face. "Thanks for the memory, Jen."
Shannon protested, "You don't have to exhaust yourself working as a waitress! Okay, so this rotten morning sickness made my part-time job impossible, but Kemp —"
"We don't need Kemp's money," Jen snapped, getting into the car.
Shannon wailed, "You're being totally illogical! You're the one who insisted —"
"Things have changed." Jen steered the car up the rutted drive. Illogical or not, she still cringed at Kemp's tone when he suggested that she'd made love with him to repay him. She wouldn't take another cent from him if she had to work twenty-four hours a day.
At least when she was dog-tired she managed a few hours' sleep every night.
But the sight of a familiar dark head in the restaurant drove away every response except panic and a bitter, forbidden pleasure. Kemp wasn't at one of her tables, but she knew he'd seen her — she could feel his awareness crackle across the room.He left before she did, but when she got home he was standing beside his car at the gate.
"What do you want?" she asked ungraciously, her heart skidding to a halt before speeding up unbearably.
"What the hell are you doing?" He turned her around so that the unkind moon picked out the dark shadows beneath her eyes. "You've lost weight. This is ridiculous, Jen. I'll settle on a lump sum for Shannon —"
"She won't take it," Jen said hoarsely, torn by angry longing.
"She has." He stared into her stubborn face and said in a goaded voice, "Jen, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore, except that I need you. I don't care about the mess Shannon and Patrick have made, about money or anything but having you in my life, in my home, in my heart. I love you, and these past few weeks have been a living hell."
When she didn't answer he said, "If you won't let me look after you —"
He stopped when her dark eyes filled with tears and she said in a shaking voice, "I'll let you look after me if you'll let me look after you. Oh, Kemp, I've been eating my heart out for you. What took you so long?"
He kissed her with such passion she forgot the question until much later when he told her, "I was organizing things."
"Loose ends?" She sighed blissfully.
"I asked Shannon why she wanted to keep the baby. She's suffering from a guilty conscience; you devoted your life to her when your parents died, and were ready to do the same for her baby. She's realized how unfair she was being."
Frowning, she said, "So now what?"
"We get married," he said uncompromisingly. "I've found a job for Shannon with a friend who has a crèche for his employees. She can finish her degree part-time. It will be tough, but she'll survive with our help." His voice deepened. "And we, my dearest heart, will live happily ever after."
He said it with such confidence that Jen believed him. Wordlessly, she held out her hand, and together they walked through the moonlight into their future.
The End