Little Secrets. Maureen Child

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      Another blow and this one had her reeling. He’d wanted her to mourn him? To go through the pain of a loss so deeply felt that it had been weeks before she’d even been able to function? The only thing that had kept her going, that had gotten her out of bed in the mornings, was her baby. Knowing that Jack had left her with this gift, this child, had given her strength. She’d gone on, telling herself that Jack would want her to.

      Now she finds out he wanted her to believe he was dead?

      “Who are you?” she asked, shaking her head and blinking furiously to keep tears she wouldn’t show him at bay.

      “The same guy you used to know,” he ground out.

      “No.” She stiffened her spine, lifted her chin and glared at him. “The Jack I knew would never have put me through the last six months.”

      For an instant, she thought she saw shame flash across his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, so Rita put it down to wishful thinking.

      “This isn’t about me,” he said quietly and she heard the tight control in his voice. “You’re pregnant.”

      “Very observant.” God. She wrapped her arms around her belly protectively.

      “How far along?”

      Shocked, Rita bit back the words that first flew to her mouth. Temper spiked, and she had to wrestle it into submission. She knew what he was asking—who’s the father? And she didn’t know if she was more hurt than angry or if it was a tie between the two.

      “Six months,” she said pointedly. “So your cleverly veiled question is answered. You’re the father.”

      Not that she was happy about that at the moment. She loved her baby, had loved its father. But this stranger looking down at her through icy cold eyes was someone she didn’t even recognize.

      “And you didn’t tell me about it.”

      Before she could stop it, a short, sharp laugh shot from her throat. Shaking her head in complete wonder at his ridiculous statement, she countered, “How was I supposed to do that, Jack? I had no way of contacting you. You were going to write to me with your address.”

      A muscle in his jaw twitched and his eyes narrowed, but she didn’t care.

      “I don’t think sending a letter addressed to Jack Buchanan, United States Marine Corps, somewhere in a desert would have found you.”

      “Fine. I get it.” He pushed the edges of his jacket back and stuffed his hands into his pockets. The wind lifted his dark red power tie, turning it into a waving flag. His hair was ruffled, his eyes were cold and his jaw tight. “Like I said, there were reasons.”

      “Still haven’t heard them.”

      “Yeah. Not important right now. What is important,” he said, his gaze shifting to the mound of her belly and back up to her eyes again, “is my baby.”

      “You mean my baby,” she corrected and instantly wished she hadn’t come to work that day. If she’d taken the day off, she wouldn’t have been in the bakery when he walked by and none of this would be happening.

      “Rita, if you think I’m walking away from this, you’re wrong.”

      “Why wouldn’t I think that?” she argued, moving away from him, instinctively keeping a safe distance between him and her child. “You walked away before. Never looked back.”

      “That’s not true,” he muttered, letting his gaze slide from hers to focus on the ocean instead. “I thought about you.”

      Her heart twisted, but Rita wouldn’t allow herself to be swayed. He’d walked away. Shut her out. Let her mourn him, for heaven’s sake. I thought about you just didn’t make up for the misery she’d lived through.

      “And I should believe you?”

      He slanted her a glance. “Believe or not, it changes nothing.”

      “That much is true anyway,” Rita agreed. “Look, I have to get back to work.”

      “Your boss won’t fire you if you take more than fifteen minutes.”

      She laughed a little, but there was no warmth in it. “I am the boss. It’s my bakery and I have to get back to it.”

      “Yours?”

      “Yeah,” she said, turning away to head back up Main Street.

      “Why did you come here?” he asked and had her pausing to look over her shoulder at him. “I mean, here, Seal Beach. You lived in Utah when we met.”

      Rita stared at him and whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, there was a jolt of need inside her she couldn’t quite ignore. With the sun pouring down on him, he looked both dangerous and appealing. He was tall and broad-shouldered and even in an elegant suit, he looked...intimidating. Was it any wonder why she’d fallen so hard for him?

      That was then, she reminded herself; this was now.

      “I moved here because I wanted to feel closer to you,” she admitted, then added, “of course, that’s when I thought you were dead. Now, the only thing that’s dead is what I felt for you.”

      When she walked away, Rita felt his gaze fix on her. And she knew this wouldn’t be the last time she’d see him.

      And that was both worrying and comforting.

      * * *

      That afternoon, Jack went back to the bakery, took a table that allowed him to keep his back to a wall and ordered coffee. A seemingly never-ending stream of customers came and went, laughed, chatted and walked out with red bakery boxes. This was her place, Jack thought with admiration. The shop was small but it had an old-world elegance to it.

      Gleaming wood floors, dark blue granite counters, brass-and-chrome cash register, glistening glass display cases boasting pastries and cookies. There were brass sconces on the walls and pots of flowers and trailing greenery in strategic spots. It looked, he thought, just as she wanted it to. Like an exclusive Italian shop.

      His gaze tracked her employees as they hustled to serve their customers, then shifted to land on Rita herself. She was still ignoring him, but he didn’t mind. Gave him time to think.

      Jack’s mind was still buzzing. Not only at news of the baby but at seeing Rita again. He’d worked for months to wipe her out of his memories and now everything came rushing back in a tidal wave of images.

      He saw her standing at the water’s edge, moonlight spearing down on her from a cold, black sky. December at the beach was cold and she was wearing a jacket, but she was holding her shoes in one hand and letting the icy water lick at her toes.

      Her hair was a tangle of dark brown curls that lifted and swirled around her head in the ever-present wind. She heard him approaching and instantly turned her head to look at him. He should have walked on, cut away from her and headed for the pier, but something about her made him stop. He kept a safe distance between them because he didn’t want to worry her, but as he looked into her big СКАЧАТЬ