My Baby, Your Son. Anne Peters

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СКАЧАТЬ her presence at all, the stab of hurt this caused both angered and surprised her. She would have thought her defenses stronger than that. She had worked so hard to shore them up. As an entertainer, having her work con- stantly scrutinized and torn apart by fans and critics alike came with the territory. She’d had to develop an elephant’s hide or perish as an artist.

      So why would the rudeness of this one man cause her even a moment’s discomfort?

      The answer was as obvious as it was immutable—the man was the father of her child. That made him, if no longer special, at least different from every other man in that he had once possessed her heart and body. They had been in love.

      Or, at least, she had been—if indeed that fairy-tale state existed. In those glorious days that long-ago summer, sev- enteen years old and incredibly naive, she had believed it did.

      But now, at twenty-eight, she knew better than to put her faith in fairy tales. First Jared O’Neal and, later, Montgom- ery Cedars, had shattered her girlish illusions.

      Still, she had hoped that the bond between Jared and herself, tenuous though the events of the past might have made it, would enable them to deal with each other civilly. At least where Tyler was concerned.

      And so, maybe the twinge of pain Jared’s barely veiled contempt was causing her was merely disappointment at having that hope dashed. Not that she would let him see he still had the power to wound her.

      “I’m glad to run into you here,” she told him, keeping her tone civil, though it took some effort. “I was going to call you later today.”

      “Really?” His tone was one of complete disinterest. “A sick pet?”

      “No, of course not. I—”

      “In that case, you’ll excuse me.” Brushing past her, Jar- ed strode out the door without a backward glance.

      Stunned, April almost let him get away with it. But then she recalled the promise she had made to herself, the prom- ise to take charge. “Jared!”

      Leaving the postmistress looking intrigued, April hurried after him. She caught him out on the sidewalk. “Jared.”

      He neither turned nor stopped walking.

      April half ran to come abreast of him. “I’d like to talk to you.”

      “There’s not a word you can say that I want to hear.”

      “Oh, really?” April snapped, his scorn blasting the last of her good intentions to smithereens. Gritting her teeth and blessing her long legs, she grimly matched his stride. “How does the word ‘conspiracy’ strike you?”

      No response.

      “Or maybe the term ‘kidnapping’ would be more appli- cable.”

      That stopped him in his tracks.

      April stalked past him, then spun around. Folding her arms across her chest, she met his glare without waver. “I will have you charged with either or both,” she said. “If you force me to.”

      “You’re nuts.”

      “Maybe.” She angled her chin in a gesture of challenge.

      Jared ground his back teeth.

      Neither blinked as they stared coldly into each other’s eyes. April was damned if she was going to give him even a glimpse of her shattered nerves because she knew she’d be lost if she did. He would emotionally flatten her like a steamroller for the simple reason that he could. After all, she was the vulnerable one in the showdown to come. She wanted what he already had.

      “Kidnapping what?” he finally demanded, as though he didn’t already know the answer, ludicrous though it was. “Or who?”

      “Tyler.” The name came out of April’s constricted throat in a croaky whisper. Angry with herself for the innate cowardice that even now made her want to retreat from this confrontation, April cleared her throat. “I want Tyler.”

      “Tyler is nothing to you,” Jared growled, doing his ut- most to control a burgeoning rage he knew was caused by fear as much as anything else. “Nothing.”

      “He is my son.”

      “Your son?” The harshly whispered pronoun was laced with such bitterness and suppressed rage, April instinctively shrank back.

      But not far enough. Jared gripped her arm. Jerking her out of the path of other pedestrians, many of whom were eyeing them with avid curiosity, he all but dragged her into the relative privacy of a recessed store entrance. There, his formidable bulk shielded April from inquisitive glances. She doubted, however, that he’d arranged it that way out of chivalry. He was clearly livid.

      “Now you listen to me,” he snarled, impaling her with his eyes. “That boy is mine. Only mine.” His face was as close as a lover’s, but there was nothing in the least lov- erlike in his expression. “You gave away any claim you had when you got rid of him like so much excess bag- gage.”

      “No!” With a strength fueled by desperation, April yanked her arm out of Jared’s grip and raised her hands beseechingly. “Jared, for heaven’s sake. You know I never did that. My mother—”

      “Ah, yes,” Jared interjected with a grimace of distaste. “Your mother.”

      “Did what she thought was best,” April defended out of habit. Certainly not out of conviction. “But believe me, I knew nothing about any of it.”

      “Yeah, right.” Jared averted his face so he wouldn’t have to look at her to see the distress that could almost make him believe she was telling the truth. Almost. “Poor April, always the innocent victim.”

      “No!”

      “Damn straight, no!” Jerking his face back toward her, Jared spoke through clenched teeth. “As in no way. No way do I believe you, and no way are you getting your hands on my son. He is not a thing you can keep or reject like the ring you tossed back in my face.”

      “The ring?” April stared at him, bewildered. He could only mean his fraternity ring. She’d been on cloud nine the day he had given it to her as a token of his love. And she had sunk into the depths of despair the day it had disap- peared.

      Which had been the same day she had confessed to her mother that she was pregnant. Her last day at Cliff House. Because the very next morning, her mother had put her on a plane to London. Marjorie had written in her journal that day.

      I think Grace is overreacting. And my little April is so distressed that I telephoned Joshua in London and pleaded with him to intervene on his daughter’s behalf. I am heartbroken but not really surprised that, as usual, my brother shirked his responsibilities and refused…

      Reading it all these years later, April had cried. Her fa- ther was dead and could answer no questions, but she had often wondered why he’d been so seemingly content to give her mother free reign.

      Perhaps if he’d taken a stand, she would not now be in this untenable situation with Jared O’Neal.

      “What СКАЧАТЬ