“Roarke. I love that you think you want to marry me, but—”
“You love that I think I want to marry you?”
“Look. I’m not saying this right, but—”
He spun her toward him. “What are you afraid of? Why do you keep hiding from me?”
“I’m not—”
“It’s as if there’s a wall between us, and I can’t get past it.”
What was between them were her lies, but how could she tell him that? How would any woman tell the man she loved that she had abandoned her own child, that she had come into his life not by accident but by subterfuge, that even the name he knew her by was a fabrication?
“You say you have secrets. And I told you whatever your secrets are, they don’t matter.” He drew a long breath. “They don’t—but I can tell that they matter to you. So tell me what they are. Get them out in the open. And I promise, nothing will change. Do you understand, sweetheart? Say whatever you have to say. Or don’t. Either way, I’ll love you.”
Her eyes met his. Was it—could it be—true? For the first time, Jennifer felt a flutter of hope.
Roarke put his arm around her shoulders and led her out to the balcony.
“Let me tell you what my life was like before you came along,” he said as he drew her down with him onto a chaise longue. “I got up in the morning, had a few minutes with Susu, then went to my office. At the day’s end, I left my office, headed home and spent some time with Susu.” He dropped a light kiss on Jennifer’s temple. “Except for the time I spent with my daughter, the hours of my life were hollow.”
“My life was like that, too,” she whispered. “Only I—I didn’t have a child to love.”
He nodded. “Susu’s made all the difference for me. Sometimes I think how ironic it is that something so wonderful could have come out of a marriage as bad as mine and Alexandra’s.”
“But you loved her, didn’t you? Alexandra, I mean.”
“I suppose I did. Hell, I thought I did. But that was a long time ago.”
Jennifer turned toward him.
“I thought, from what Constancia said, that you and she—that you and Alexandra still had something between you.”
“We do. We have an on-again, off-again battle over Susanna.”
“You mean—your wife…”
“My ex-wife,” he said. “Don’t ever forget the ex.”
“She wants custody?”
Roarke brushed his lips over Jennifer’s. Then he got to his feet and walked slowly to the balcony railing.
“Alexandra never wants the same thing two weeks running,” he said, tucking his hands in his pants pockets as he stared out over the dark sea. “It charmed me at first, that will-o’-the-wisp quality, but I learned fast that’s not what it really is. She’s like a greedy child. Something interests her one moment and the next, she couldn’t care less.”
“Constancia told me that she was—that she is very beautiful.”
“You know that old saw about beauty being skin deep? That’s Alexandra.” He sighed. “Actually, what she is is amazingly calculating. She came after me like a house afire—Christ, that sounds cold-blooded, but it’s the truth. She’d always had a little money of her own, but never enough to keep her happy. And there I was, weary of playing the field, ready to settle down. So she lied.”
Jennifer swung her feet to the floor. A coldness was seeping into her bones. She lied. His ex had lied…
“She said she wanted to settle down too. That she wanted to make a home with the right man, that she wanted children, a family…” His tone hardened. “Before I knew it, we were married.”
“But she didn’t want those things after all,” Jennifer whispered.
Roarke gave a harsh laugh.
“That’s the understatement of the year. Within a couple of months, she dropped the pretense. She wanted to party every weekend, to fly to wherever the action was. And I’d had my fill of all that. What I wanted was peace and quiet.”
“Was that when you bought Isla de la Pantera?”
“No. I’d bought the island just before I met Alexandra and I’d started building a house right away. In fact, we spent a couple of weekends there. She said she loved it… But she’d lied about that too. Once we moved in, she told me the truth, that she hated the house, the island, hated everything about the place.” He turned and looked at Jennifer. “The marriage was a disaster by then anyway. Still, I offered to make a last stab at pulling things together. I said we’d move off the island, try living in San Juan for a while.”
“And?”
Roarke was silent while the minutes dragged by. Then he shrugged his shoulders.
“I came home from work one night and she was gone. No note, no message, just a whirlwind of whispers left in her wake.” His mouth twisted; he gave a bitter laugh. “She’d run away with her tennis pro. A classic, right?”
Jennifer stood up. “But how could she? How could she have done such a thing to you? To Susanna?”
“We hadn’t had Susanna yet. Besides, if you knew Alexandra, you wouldn’t ask the question. Alexandra never gives a thought to anyone but herself.” Roarke turned, leaned his arms on the balcony railing and gazed out across the water again. “She took her lover with her to Paris. Then I cut her off from my checking account, from all my assets, and he left her. She took up with somebody else, some guy with a title from a place nobody every heard of. Apparently, that didn’t last either. A couple of months later, he left her flat.”
“It must have been awful for you,” Jennifer said quietly.
“To be honest, once I got over the shock, I was happy to be rid of her. I divorced her as quickly as I could. When she received the papers, she phoned me. She begged me to take her back. She cried—she was always very good at that—and she asked me if there wasn’t anything in the world that would make me change my mind. I said no. I even managed to wish her well—and I hung up the phone and tried to get on with my life.” He paused. “And then,” he said, his voice roughening, “the doorbell rang one night. And there she was. Alexandra.”
“And you took her back.”
Roarke sighed. “Yes. Hell, what else could I do?”
Jennifer nodded, her heart aching for the man she loved. She could only imagine what it must have cost him to live through all he’d described.
“How could I have turned her away when I saw her standing there with an infant in her arms and heard her say, Roarke, I want you to meet your daughter.”
Jennifer’s head came up. “What?”
“Incredible, isn’t it? She’d never even told me about the pregnancy. That she’d given birth to my child damn near nine months to the day after she’d left me?”
“Do you mean—you didn’t know she’d had Susu?”
“I didn’t know a godddamn thing.” Roarke rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I looked at the baby and I kept thinking that I’d helped create this life—”
Jennifer’s throat had gone dry. She swallowed, then swallowed again. “I can’t—I can’t believe it. It just—it just doesn’t make sense. Are you saying that—that—”
“What I’m saying,” he said hoarsely, “is that my sweet, adoring wife was carrying my child when she ran off with another man.” He slammed his fist against the railing. “Can you see it? There she was, in Paris, screwing other men, and all the time she was pregnant with my baby.”
“Paris. Yes. You said Paris. So Susanna was born in Paris…”
“No. Susanna was born in Chicago.”
The world tilted.
“Chicago,” Jennifer said numbly.
“Yeah.” He laughed sharply. “Chicago. About as far away from the world Alexandra knew as it was possible to get.”
Jennifer took a quick step back. She hit the edge of the chaise longue and sank down on it.
“Chicago, Illinois?” she said stupidly.
Roarke turned toward her, smiling for the first time since he’d begun his story.
“That’s
right. Apparently the Midwest specializes in producing beautiful girls with dark hair and blue eyes.”
No. No. It couldn’t be…
“Are you sure?” She cleared her throat. “Are you sure that’s where Susanna was born?”
“I know it’s crazy, but hell, it hurts me that I don’t even remember where I was or what I was doing the night of her birth. I keep trying to remember. January sixteenth, I say to myself, January sixteenth at seven-thirty in the evening.” His face darkened, and he slammed his fist on the railing again. “A father should know these things, damn it!”
Jennifer made a low, keening sound. Roarke spun toward her.
“Sweetheart? Jen, what is it?”
She put her hands to her face. No, she told herself, it was impossible.
Coincidence, that was all it was, a strange coincidence that Alexandra Campbell should have given birth to a daughter in Chicago on the very day, at the very hour, that her daughter was born.
“Jennifer.” Roarke knelt beside her and took her hands in his. “Are you ill?”
But it wasn’t coincidence. She knew, with sudden terrible clarity, that she had reached the end of her search.
Roarke Campbell had, indeed, adopted her daughter.
But he didn’t know it.
He thought Susanna was his child.
His wife—his ex-wife—had lied to him. She’d needed a way to get back into his life and she’d found one.
She’d bought a baby and passed it off as theirs.
As his.
Jennifer’s throat constricted.
The time for holding back, for secrets, was over.
“Roarke,” she said urgently, “Roarke, I have to tell you something…”
His cellphone rang.
He cursed, plucked it from his pocket and looked at the screen.
“It’s Constancia,” he said, bringing the phone to his ear. “Constancia. Is Susanna…” His face whitened and he shot to his feet. “We’re on our way.”
“Roarke?” Jennifer said. “Is it Susu?”
“Susu’s fine.” His expression was grim “It’s Alexandra. She’s back.”
Chapter Ten
Jennifer stared out the window as the helicopter swooped across the dark Caribbean en route to Isla de la Pantera.
There was something almost surrealistic about leaving the rest of the world behind and hurtling through the night toward a dot in the sea.
She thought of all the people below, lying safe in their beds.
Some might be dreaming, but even their worst dreams would end in an instant of awakening.
She couldn’t expect the same deliverance.
She was trapped in a nightmare and she could see no way out of it.
If only she’d never let Roarke talk her into staying on Isla de la Pantera. If only she hadn’t fallen in love with him.
Jennifer closed her eyes.
There was no sense in that kind of thinking. It wouldn’t change anything, and besides, even if she could go back and undo things, where would she start?
There were far too many ifs involved. The only one that would have made a difference was the one at the beginning.
If she’d never met Craig, none of this would have happened.
But then there’d have been no Susanna. And it was impossible to envision a world that was empty of the child she loved with all her heart. And there’d never have been these few wonderful weeks with Roarke, either. With the man she adored…
A sob rose in her throat. She put her hand to her mouth, but it was too late. Roarke had heard the muffled sound. He turned to her quickly and took her hand in his.
“Everything will be fine, sweetheart. I’ll see what she wants and get rid of her. Okay?”
She drew a deep breath. No, she wanted to say, nothing will be okay. My life is coming undone, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it.
She’d waited too long.
“Jen?”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I have a headache, that’s all.”
Roarke drew her head down to his shoulder. “You’re tired,” he said softly. “Why don’t you close your eyes and rest until we land?”
She sighed as she curved her body into the comforting warmth of his and tried not to think of what waited just ahead.
But, all too soon, the lights of Isla de la Pantera rose on the horizon.
* * *
Alexandra Campbell was everything Jennifer had imagined.
Tall, slender, elegantly dressed in a pale gold outfit the same shade as the stylishly cut hair that framed her high-cheekboned face, she was a Vogue fashion model come to life.
She came down the wide staircase just as Jennifer and Roarke stepped through the front door, arms outstretched, looking for all the world as if this were her home and she was welcoming guests into it.
She gave Jennifer one swift, cold glance, and then she turned all her attention on Roarke.
“Darling,” she said huskily, “it’s so good to see you again.”
Roarke’s face was expressionless.
“What are you doing here?” he said in a flat voice.
Alexandra smiled coyly as she moved toward him. “Is that all the greeting I get after such a long time?” She rose on tiptoe and wound her slender arms around his neck. “Hello, darling,” she said softly.
Roarke grabbed her wrists, pulled her arms down and stepped back.
“I’ll ask again. What are you doing here?”
Jennifer looked from her lover to his former wife.
“I—I’ll just check on Susanna. You and—and your wife have things to discuss…”
“My ex-wife,” he said coldly. He wound his arm around Jennifer’s waist. “I’ll ask you again, Alexandra. What do you want?”
The lovely face twisted into a pout. “Must a woman have a reason for paying a visit to her husband and child?” Her gaze swept to Jennifer, and suddenly the violet eyes gleamed with malice. “Who’s your little friend, darling? It’s dreadfully rude not to introduce us.”
Roarke said nothing.
Alexandra tossed her head.
“Very well. If you won’t make the proper introductions, I’ll do it myself.” Her lips lifted in a bright, false smile and she held out a scarlet-tipped hand rimmed with heavy gold bangles. “How do you do? I’m Alexandra Campbell. And you are…?”
Jennifer’s heart thudded. My name is Jennifer Winters, she wanted to say, I’m the woman whose child you—
But she couldn’t; God, she couldn’t, not with Roarke standing beside her.
“I’m Jennifer Hamilton,” she said, ignoring the outstretched hand. “Susanna’s nanny.”
The violet eyes went flat. “What a charming word,” she purred. “It has such an old-fashioned quality to it.”
Roarke’s arm dropped from Jennifer’s waist and he stepped in front of her. It was such a sweetly chivalrous, lovingly protective gesture that it brought a lump to her throat.
“For the last time,” he said, “why did you come here?”
The blonde’s voice chilled. “I already gave you my answer. I came to see my daughter.”
“Your daughter?” He laughed. “It’s a little late to start thinking of Susanna as your daughter, don’t you think?”
Alexandra smiled like a cat contemplating a dish of cream. “It’s not a matter of thinking, it’s a matter of fact. Susanna is as much mine as she is yours, although we both know how hard you try to pretend otherwise.”
Roarke’s fists clenched. “You don’t give a damn for her.”
“Of course I do, darling. Why else would I be here?”
“For the same reason you came back before,” he said flatly. “For money.”
The lovely face hardened. “I’m your wife, Roarke. You owe me.”
“You’re not my wife, and I don’t owe you a damned thing.”
“Ah.” Alexandra’s voice was soft. “But I’m still Susanna’s mother. No divorce can change that, c
an it?”
Roarke stiffened. “It’s too late to try playing at being Susanna’s mother again.”
His ex smiled. “Try telling that to the courts, darling. We both know how they feel about a mother’s right to her child.”
“We’ve been all through this, Alexandra. You deserted Susu—”
The slim shoulders rose and fell in an easy shrug. “Semantics. I left here because I had no choice. I couldn’t go on living with you on this awful island. You may want to play at being a recluse, but I didn’t want that kind of life for myself.” Her gaze narrowed. “And I don’t want it for Susanna. That would make devastating testimony in the hands of a good psychiatrist, don’t you think?”
“Alexandra—”
“Of course, there’s always the chance you’d win, once we’d gone through all the appeals. I’ve heard these cases can drag on for years.” She sighed dramatically. “It would be difficult for Susanna, I suppose, shuttling from parent to parent while we battled, but then, she’s a sturdy little girl, isn’t she?”
“You always were a bitch,” Roarke said softly.
“I’m only trying to point out the pitfalls of taking our differences to court, darling, especially since, in the end, you’d probably win.” There was a meaningful pause. “After all,” she said, “you’re the one with all the money.”
Roarke moved quickly, like the big cat after which his island had been named, closing his hands on Alexandra’s shoulders and slamming her back against the wall.
Her voice rose in a shriek.
“Let go of me! Damn you, let go or I’ll charge you with assault. Just see how much sympathy that brings you in a custody fight.”
“Roarke.” Jennifer’s voice trembled. “Roarke, please—”
“Stay out of this!”
But she couldn’t.
She could sense the violence in him and though she understood it, she knew that it would play straight into his ex-wife’s hands.
So she put her hand on his shoulder. His muscles were like steel beneath her palm and she took a breath and spoke his name again.
“Roarke,” she said softly.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then she felt his muscles go slack.
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