Necessary Secrets. Barbara Phinney

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СКАЧАТЬ at the bright, cheery chatter. It had been a long time since he’d been in a small town. Toronto wasn’t the kind of place where people struck up friendly conversations with perfect strangers. They barely made eye contact. And being a cop, he found himself suspicious whenever someone he didn’t know started talking.

      But he wouldn’t ignore the opportunity. “I’m sorry. I don’t have her card. I’m still worried about her,” he said, hedging his way into the conversation. “She’s…not the kind to faint.”

      “It happens like this sometimes, but the symptoms should pass soon. You must be a…‘friend’ of hers?” Her stare was openly curious. She stood there, no doubt hoping he would fill the empty silence with an answer.

      He forced a brief smile onto his face. Now why should she put so much emphasis on the word friend? He gave her a knowing look. “More than a friend, believe me.” Perhaps this chatty little receptionist could direct him out to Sylvie’s ranch?

      The woman smiled back. Abruptly, the doctor strolled behind the counter and dropped a slim file on the desk along with a few sample packs of medicine from his pocket.

      Jon glanced at them as they fell onto the file. Prenatal vitamins, in pale-pink wrappers.

      Prenatal?

      “Give these to Ms. Mitchell, will you, Fleur? And I want to see her in my office first thing next Wednesday morning.” The doctor noticed Jon, and his smile broadened. “Your wife’s fine. Though I suggest you take her home and feed her. She shouldn’t miss any more meals.”

      Jon nodded, unwilling to correct the man on their marital status. The mistake could prove useful. “I will.”

      The doctor gone, the receptionist scooped up the vitamins and smiled at him. “See? Nothing that won’t cure itself by December.”

      His face fell. Talk about hitting the jackpot. All he’d hoped for were directions to her ranch.

      Fainting, prenatal vitamins. The look of horror on her face when he spoke of Rick. The hand that slid to her flat belly.

      Stuck overnight more often than not, she’d said.

      Taking the offered vitamin samples, he strode down the hall. The cure coming in December? A hasty bit of mental math quickened his step. He should have known. Hadn’t his ex-wife fainted that one day and blamed it on missing a meal? Right before asking for a divorce? She’d been queasy all through their meetings with the lawyers. A blessing that had ended in an uncontested divorce.

      She’d practically raced out to her lover after that, leaving him at the lawyer’s office with a bitter taste in his mouth.

      A mental litany of the secrets she’d kept from him danced in his mind. The path ahead of him was starting to look pretty damn familiar, and while Tanya’s secrets meant squat to him now, Sylvie Mitchell’s were worth a hell of a lot more.

      Jon thinned his lips. Did this have something to do with Rick’s commanding officer’s reluctance to speak to him?

      His heart pounded in his throat as he swung open the door to the labor room. Damn appropriate room, he’d say.

      Sylvie looked up as he strode in.

      “Feeling better now?” His tight voice sliced the quiet.

      A tiny frown creased her forehead. “Fine, thank you.”

      He gritted his teeth as he dropped the pink packages into her lap. “So, is it Rick’s baby you’re carrying, or did you two just talk on those nights you were stuck together?”

      Chapter 2

      After spending thirteen years in army logistics and supply, Sylvie had met her share of intimidating jerks. Most she either ignored or answered with a blunt, uncomplainable “Yes, sir.”

      But cornered in this stifling birthing room, she could do neither. Nor was it in her nature to lie. She had kept herself as honest as possible in a trade that had more thieving bin rats than it had army boots.

      Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore the intimidating man who filled the doorway, any more than she could have ignored him when he scooped her up like a child and walked calmly across the street to the clinic.

      Oh, she hadn’t been so fully unconscious that she didn’t realize she was being carried. She’d felt his arms around her, the heat of his chest penetrating deep into her…and, well, if truth were told, she hadn’t minded it one bit.

      They say one’s whole value system changes when one faints; it certainly had with her. But not to the point of telling this man she was carrying his nephew or niece. What if he asked more questions? What if he wanted to know how serious she’d been with Rick? What if he learned the truth?

      She turned her attention to the window, wishing it could open and let in the strong mountain breeze she so desperately needed. “What did the receptionist tell you?”

      “Nothing you could use in a formal complaint, if that’s what you’re thinking. I put two and two together. I’m right, aren’t I? You’re pregnant.”

      If she opened her mouth, she’d tell the truth, the way she’d always done. She pursed her lips.

      Jon continued, his arms folded over his chest. “I’ll take that as a yes. I didn’t know you and Rick were so close. He always spoke highly of you, but in a supervisor-subordinate sense. Or so I understood.”

      She slid off the bed, ignoring the sharp pang of hunger that booted away her fading nausea. “Look, yes, I’m pregnant, okay? But as to who the father is, that’s my business, not yours.”

      She tried to brush past him, but he stepped in front of the door and at the same time kicked it shut with the heel of his shoe.

      The sharp click echoed around the hot, quiet room.

      “We’re not done talking, Ms. Mitchell.”

      Her head shot up. For the first time, she stared hard at him, forcing herself to notice every little detail of his handsome face.

      She’d like nothing better than to fire back that he had no right to decide when she was done talking. She leaned in close….

      Too close and way too personal for her liking.

      Well, maybe not totally against her liking. If circumstances had been different…

      His coal-black hair wasn’t neat the way his smooth polo shirt and pressed pants were. Maybe he was the kind of man who ran his fingers constantly through it.

      She peered into his narrowed eyes, recognizing in the dark, brittle-blue irises a hint of Rick. Although Rick’s would have narrowed in the sunlight only, not out of mistrust like this man. She’d rarely seen Rick without one of his trademark, handsome grins. He had trusted so easily, she thought, her stomach tightening again.

      Shaken by the memories she’d conjured up, she stepped back from Jon.

      Somewhere from down the corridor, a baby wailed. Jon snapped his head around, listening. The crying stopped almost immediately.

      Out СКАЧАТЬ