the door to let him in out of the storm.
“You can’t cross the bridge. Sorry, Meg,” he said as he slid in, slamming the door.
“Megan!” she corrected. It was the first time he’d called her Meg since he’d walked out on her.
“You’ll have to come back to the house. I’ve got plenty of room.”
In another flash of lightning, she looked at the river that spread out of its banks.
“I promise you this night will pass and be only a memory,” he said quietly, and she turned to find him watching her. “If you’d like, I’ll turn your SUV around for you.”
“Of course not, but thanks,” she answered. “I’ve gotten along on my own,” she said, unable to keep her resentment from showing.
Her cell phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket and answered, only to hear her son’s voice. She glanced at Jared, fear and guilt returning as she said hello to Ethan.
Jared waved at her and climbed out of the car. Relieved to have him go, she let out her breath. A tense evening was now turning into a grim night. She talked briefly, promised she would call again when she was out of the storm. Then she turned her SUV around in water that lapped over new ground.
Still, the rain came in thick sheets, drumming on the SUV and shutting the world from view except what was caught in her twin headlights. Jared’s pickup had faded from view quickly in the rain. The thought of being under the same roof with Jared through a stormy night frazzled her nerves. She didn’t care how large his house was—it could never be big enough, being thrown together through the night and morning until the rain stopped.
She wasn’t going to worry about tomorrow. Just get through tonight and resist his dark eyes. Their midnight depths held blazing desire, a continual hot-blooded look that made her tingle from head to toe. There was nothing circumspect, businesslike or remote about what she saw smoldering in his appreciative gaze.
When he was younger, he went after what he wanted with a single-mindedness that was fierce. She knew that intensity was focused on acquiring her ranch, but she didn’t care to have it turned on seduction.
Squaring her shoulders, she promised herself to keep barriers between them and try to get him out of her life before he discovered what she never wanted him to know. The SUV slid on the wet road and she turned her full attention to driving.
As she expected, when she reached his house he was waiting on the lighted porch. He stood by the railing, one booted foot propped on the rail. If he weren’t so handsome and sexy, it would be far easier to remain cool toward him. Too many shared moments that, at the time, she had thought the best of her life, made it impossible to deal with him objectively. She cut the motor and sat a minute. The wind was blowing, a thorough storm lashing the earth as if a mirror of her emotions. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out with the umbrella and dashed to the porch and into the house, where she kicked off her impractical pumps. She left her umbrella on the flagstone entryway. “I’ll leave them so I don’t track water,” she added, walking along the wide hall with him, trying to block memories of being in this house years ago. Her simmering anger crushed conversation and she walked in silence.
“Remember any of this?” he asked.
“Of course,” she answered in clipped tones, and he glanced at her with his head tilted and one eyebrow raised in a questioning glance that made her heart thud. She knew that look only too well.
“You haven’t changed much here, if my memory is correct,” she said, looking at potted palms and gilt-framed seascapes.
“Not in this part of the house. I’ve left this part alone. Otherwise, I had an addition built to the kitchen, as well as a new bedroom for me. I’ll show you later. How’s this room?” he asked, switching on a light and entering a room with a king-size four-poster bed and maple furniture that stood on a polished oak floor.
“Fine,” she said, following him into the room and seeing the adjoining bathroom.
“Let’s go back to the kitchen for something warm to drink. What would you like—hot chocolate, hot tea or something cold?” he asked while they walked down the hall again.
“If you have some, I’d prefer hot tea,” she answered. “I told my son I’d call him back. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, getting her cell phone from a pocket in her skirt. She went to the living area to stand at one of the floor-to-ceiling glass walls and watch the rain while she called Ethan. She missed him and just wanted to wrap her arms around him. Reassuring herself he was safe and happy with her relatives, she tried to quell her anxiety. Next she talked to her aunt to tell her she was marooned at Jared’s ranch.
With each jagged streak of lightning, she saw that the drenching rain hadn’t let up. The puddles had spread, increasing her concerns that she might be stranded in the morning.
Assuring her aunt she was fine, Megan put away her phone and rejoined Jared in the kitchen. Asking about his work, she perched on a bar stool and watched him set yellow china mugs on a large tray. Her gaze traveled over his features, so familiar to her. If he ever saw Ethan …
Her heart did a flip at the thought. With brown eyes and black hair, Ethan looked as much like his dad as a child could, even down to the cleft in his chin.
Another clap of thunder boomed and lights dimmed. Jared glanced toward the windows. “I’ll get candles, in case,” he said, crossing to disappear into a walk-in pantry.
“All I need,” she mumbled softly, hoping she didn’t spend the evening in candlelight with him. He had too many things going for him already.
Still focusing conversation on his work, she followed him into the living area, where she curled up in a chair. Lights were low and Jared had switched on soft music, while rain still drummed outside and poured off the porch roof. He took the nearby sofa and placed a tray with their steaming cups of tea and coffee on the glass table in front of both of them. Usually, such surroundings would lend a cozy intimacy to the evening, but she planned to have her drink and get back to the bedroom and close the door on Jared for the night.
As he answered her inquiries about his Dallas and Paris offices, his traveling and his houses, she wondered if she had made the mistake of her life. Should she have revealed to Jared long ago that he was the father of her son?
Had she erred by never contacting Jared through the intervening years? The minute the question came, she knew if she had to do it all over again, she would do the same. Jared had walked out on her without a word, never contacting her until their encounter this morning.
The simmering resentment boiled momentarily as she remembered her joy and his declarations of love, the wild passion between them and then … desertion. He didn’t contact her, give her any indication that anything was wrong—he left, and when she began to look for him, she discovered from his parents that he’d gone to Texas, where he’d taken a new job. They gave her his phone number, but she had no intention of calling him. The hurt had been monumental, compounded when she’d learned she was pregnant.
To forgive and forget was impossible. Tonight, he wanted something from her, and therefore was flirting and charming once again; but there was a solid, lasting bedrock of pain that he’d caused.
Still, guilt nagged and worry plagued her. Had she cut her son out of a relationship that would have enriched his life? Yet, how could a man who left like that have been that
