Sarah's Secrets. Lisa Childs

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      The sound of her name in his husky voice brought on a shiver. Then she stiffened. With Dylan gone from hearing, it wasn’t Mrs. Hutchins but Sarah that he called her.

      “I’m fine.”

      A sigh slipped through his lips, his breath feathering through her bangs. She glanced up to find him close, his head bent to hers. In his dark glasses, mirrored images of her stared back. Pale face. Wide, horrified eyes.

      Pride had her bristling against the image and him. “I told you I’m fine.” Shaking her arm didn’t dislodge his firm hold.

      He shook his head. “No, ma’am, you’re not.”

      Intending to pry him loose, her fingers closed over his. Warm, rough skin slid under her palm, sending tingles up her arm, inciting her anger. “Let go of me.”

      “No.”

      Her head snapped back. No one talked to her like that, no matter how much respect the rest of the world had for him. “Who do you think you are?”

      “The only thing keeping you from falling on your face. You’re shaking.”

      She couldn’t deny the obvious, or hold onto her anger. He’d done nothing to incite it. “Yes, I am.”

      “This note really rattled your cage.”

      Caged was how she lived her life now, keeping her emotions in check. Until now… “You don’t have children of your own, do you, Mr. Graham?”

      “No!” He cleared his throat after his sharp retort then sighed, his warm breath caressing her skin with the scent of butterscotch. “And I don’t intend to.”

      She nodded. “That’s good that you know that now, before it’s too late and an unwanted child is brought into the world.” As she’d been. A throwaway. Until the Marses had adopted her.

      He lifted a dark-blond brow above one of the lenses of his sunglasses. “You’re not talking about your son. I saw you wade into those kids and hug one. I couldn’t see which one, but—”

      “No!” She drew in a quick breath. “I love my son very much. That’s why this note…”

      “What does it say?”

      Her fingers still lay over his on her elbow. She squeezed them, taking a moment’s comfort in his warmth and strength. Turning her head, she gazed over the soccer field where Jeremy’s golden hair glowed in the afternoon sunshine.

      Her heart clenched, fear rippling through her veins again as it had when she’d read that note. “It says, ‘We have your son.’”

      His hold on her elbow tightened as if he expected her to faint at his feet. “But they don’t. He’s one of the kids on the field.”

      She nodded, a sob of relief threatening to escape her throat, and swallowed hard. “Yes, he’s safe.”

      “For now.”

      She shivered and tugged her arm free of his grasp. “Why would you say something so awful?”

      He ran his fingers along the unshaven length of his jaw. “I’m being realistic. I’ve had some experience with situations like this.”

      She stared into his face, wishing she could see behind the dark lenses to what lay in his eyes. “Yes, Dylan called you a pro.”

      And she knew why but saw no reason to stroke his probably oversize ego by admitting it.

      He nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I used to work for the FBI Crimes Against Children Division.”

      Despite the warm caress of the sun, she shivered. Crimes against children. What he must have witnessed…. Memories of one of his earlier interviews flashed through her mind. His grim face, his admission of how the child was found. Dead. Was that why he didn’t want any of his own?

      She again longed to stare into his eyes. But she fought the ridiculous urge to comfort him. Nothing about him begged for comfort. A haircut and a shave, maybe…

      “So what does your experience tell you about this?” she asked.

      He rolled a shoulder. “Usually the kidnapping of a child involves a parent, a vengeful ex.”

      Her lips twitched, but no humor tickled her. All she enjoyed was a moment’s satisfaction in proving him wrong. For some reason she imagined few people ever did. “I’m a widow, Mr. Graham.”

      His face didn’t soften with sympathy. She expected no condolences and wasn’t surprised when he brushed off her admission.

      “There are more than ex-spouses. Ex-lovers get vengeful, too. Kidnappings are usually personal, at least in this country they are.”

      She slid her hands over her upper arms, trying to dispel the chills. She didn’t know this man. And his inference of an ex-lover showed he knew nothing of her. “That’s not the case. It must be someone’s sick idea of a joke.” She had almost convinced herself of that.

      Then he spoke her greatest fear aloud. “Or something or someone inadvertently thwarted their kidnapping attempt.” She followed the angle of his head to witness Dylan striding toward them.

      A sigh hitched in her throat. “He didn’t change from his uniform today. Must not have had time.” Had that been enough to frighten off a would-be kidnapper?

      Fortunately for her and Jeremy, Dylan had been around this time. As her son’s uncle and his soccer coach, Dylan maintained a presence in their lives. But he had his own life, a very stressful one at the moment.

      So what happened when she and Jeremy were alone? If the threat was not a joke but very real, who would protect them then?

      Chapter Two

      Sarah Mars. Up close, she resembled the photo he’d found of her. The photo that had brought him to Winter Falls. He had the right one. He knew it in his gut. And his gut instincts had gotten him out of some of the hottest spots in the world.

      He had also figured he had her when he’d pulled marriage licenses. As a tracker, he had the most trouble finding women. They married and changed their names, or didn’t. So he’d had to search Sarah Mars as a married name and a maiden name.

      He’d found several Sarahs. But only this one had married then buried a man more than twice her age. Was that her angle with his godfather? Marry him for his money, then pull the plug? Then why didn’t she hover by Bart’s bedside with a marriage license and a preacher?

      He’d known women like her; he’d come from one. But his mother hadn’t been as lucky or as smart as Sarah. Mother had found nothing sweet about her sugar daddy. So she’d cut her losses and left. She’d looked like an angel, too. Or was that only a little boy’s memory of her?

      His fingers still tingled from the contact with Sarah’s silk blouse and the heat of her skin beneath, and he cursed himself for touching her. Raised in a cold, unemotional household, he’d never been given to physical demonstrations. But he hadn’t wanted her to fall on her face either СКАЧАТЬ