over his offer. He’d had little doubt that Jenna would accept; her profession was writing, and her life was overseas. But apparently Raphael hadn’t had time to change his will before the accident. And it seemed that Jenna couldn’t care less about the money. After her loss, she had her heart set on one thing and one thing only.
A baby.
Not easy given the circumstances, but he’d learned that almost anything was possible. He’d make it his mission: before he walked away a second time, he would see Jenna happy. He would give her what she wanted most. Then maybe he could close that book—bury that ghost—and at last get on with his life, conscience clear.
She edged toward the middle of the room, hands clasped at her waist. “Say you’re right. Where am I supposed to find this husband?”
He tipped an imaginary hat. “At your service.”
She smiled. “Now you are playing games.”
His earlier years had been about survival, pretending offhanded acceptance when mostly he’d been drowning with weights tied around both feet. These days he called the shots. With every breath, he intended to keep it that way. If Gage Cameron played games, it was only ever by his own rules.
“Will you at least listen to my plan?”
“Fine.” She nodded. “Go ahead.”
“First we’ll make it known to Leeann that we’re reunited lovers.”
Her slim nostrils flared. “First lie.”
Not through any lack of desire on his part. But success was bred through a combination of flexibility, critical timing and restraint of emotion. Now he was a master. Now he always won.
“We’ll announce our engagement,” he went on. “As soon as possible, we’ll marry and file a petition for guardianship of Meg. The judge will see that the baby won’t need to worry financially—”
“Meg wouldn’t need to worry about money with Leeann as a guardian either.”
“You said you’d listen,” he chided.
Given the way her fingers wound around and strangled each other, she might want to slap him for suggesting any part of this. Instead she nodded again and he strolled toward her.
“Our petition,” he continued, “will state that you’re not only a blood relative but are also the mother’s twin sister. We’ll dig up an expert or two who will testify that you’re the natural choice to replace the child’s biological mother. They can list the benefits the baby would enjoy with regard to face as well as scent recognition. As identical twins, yours and Amy’s would be similar.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How on earth do you know about such things?”
“I read it somewhere.” Since he’d known Jenna, the subject of twins had fascinated him. He’d be happy to recite some eye-opening facts he’d mentally filed away regarding studies on twin science; he bet she’d be interested. “Another advantage is age. You’re fifteen years younger than Leeann.”
Her eyebrows knitted. “That sounds like discrimination.”
“Statistics will bear out the probability that you’ll be around longer, which equates to more stability for Meg.”
“More stability,” she murmured, understanding. “I see.”
“Plus you’ll have the unswerving support of a marital partner…a past associate of the family.”
Her eyes glistened, probing his as she soaked it all in. She’d become far more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. In her female prime, she was lush and challenging, unlike the first time when she’d been young, eager and way off-limits. Her father had been right about one thing: his young blood had run hotter, faster, back then. If he hadn’t left that night…
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
He willed his gaze to track up from the beating hollow of her throat. “You want your niece.”
“I could tell the greengrocer that. He’s not going to propose.”
How to explain?
He tugged an earlobe. “Your father…”
“My father would roll over in his grave at the thought of us marrying. You know that as well as I do.”
The knife twisted in his gut but he didn’t flinch. A poker face was a strategist’s best friend. “When we first knew each other, no doubt. But money changes a lot of things, including people’s opinions.”
“It doesn’t change the past.”
He knew the questions that shone from the depths of her eyes: Why did you leave? Why didn’t you have the decency to tell me?
Would she believe that he’d had no choice? Twelve years ago, for the first time in his life, he’d made the smart choice instead of the rogue one. As a consequence, he’d discovered who he was—who and where he needed to be. Free, alone and reasonably happy. He was wise enough now not to wish for more.
He edged around her unspoken question. “If I’d said goodbye, I wouldn’t have wanted to go.”
God knows, that was true.
Her lips hardened to a flat line. “Here’s a cliché that works. I was young and foolish. I thought you cared. It might be even more foolish to believe that you care to this extent now.”
“You think I’d offer something like this then walk away?”
Her eyes held his. “Yes, I do.”
“I give you my word.”
“Honor was never your strong suit.”
But she was forgetting…once when he could have taken her, a virgin, he’d left her alone. Hell, his mother had come from a nice family too until his father had ripped it out from under her and left her with an addiction as well as an infant she couldn’t care for.
He inhaled deeply.
All that was done with, buried. Dead. Obviously so was this discussion.
“Then I take it your mind is made up,” he stated with a smile that held no offence. When all was said and done, there wasn’t a reason in the world she should trust him. Regrettably it seemed too much had happened and too much time had passed to change that now.
“My deepest condolences on your loss,” he said, “and best of luck with your niece.”
But when he turned away, she caught his arm. Even through his jacket sleeve, the evocative warmth burrowed into his flesh, causing his skin to tighten and heat. Angling back, he studied her red-rimmed eyes and saw the same charged awareness that he felt, as well as thinly veiled fear.
Her throat bobbed on a swallow. “I’m just not certain this is the way.”
“What other way is there? You’ve already said that kidnapping’s out.”
