Laurie Paige - The Housekeeper's Daughter p.04

Eleven

On Monday, six days after Marissa's birth, Maya resumed her full duties. After getting Joe and Teddy off to school, she read a chapter in a book on early childhood, then napped until lunch. After eating, she gathered Marissa, then headed for the Hopechest Ranch.

Drake was waiting out front for her. "Ride with me," he requested. "I told my father I'd look over the children's ranch with an eye toward something we can do to improve it."

"You should talk to your sister. Amber knows more than anyone about the financial conditions and needs of the children."

"Good idea," he said equably, helping her and Marissa into his truck. "You have any suggestions?"

Before she quite knew how it happened, she was riding along with Drake, discussing the children's needs at the Hopechest, which served as a foster home, juvenile retention center and school for kids with various hardships in their young lives.

"Supplies," Maya said as he parked near the classroom where she tutored her students. "Books, especially. That's the main thing I think we need. The kids need books that show other kids overcoming sad lives and becoming successful citizens. Also art supplies—chalk and sketch paper. Oh, and workbooks in math would be good, too. Maybe we could get some of those self-tutoring computer programs?"

"Sure."

Maya realized she was waxing on and on when Drake gave her an amused smile. She shut up and went into her assigned room. There, she directed Drake to deposit the baby carrier holding the sleeping Marissa beside the desk.

"I'll look up the Hopechest director," he said, "and talk to him. I'll pick you up at three to head back to our place. Okay?"

She nodded, carefully not looking at him as she set out her folders and papers. Johnny met Drake at the door. The two males spoke in passing of the coming weekend and the plans for roping. Sighing, she admitted Drake was so good for Johnny and his younger brothers. He was someone they could look up to and emulate.

Well, to a point. She didn't want the boys to dwell on past misfortunes as Drake seemed to do. Most particularly, Johnny needed to move beyond his troublesome past to a secure future.

"How did you do with the problems Mr. Martin gave you?" she asked, pulling a new novel for him out of her briefcase.

"Fine. I think."

He gave her a self-satisfied grin, which told her he'd thought the assignment was an easy one. "Don't get cheeky," she told him affectionately, taking the homework paper.

"Is this your baby?" he asked, bending over the sleeping baby.

"Yes. Meet Marissa Joy…Colton." She paused, then plunged on, knowing the news wasn't a secret. "Drake is her father."

"Are you going to get married?"

Maya studied the teenager carefully, sure there were other questions behind this one, but not sure she wanted to answer them. "We're discussing it," she at last said, which was an honest answer. "It's difficult to know what to do. His job in the SEALs takes him all over the world, to places a wife and baby can't go."

"So, couldn't you stay here and he could come home between assignments? I had a friend whose dad was in the Navy. He was away for months at a time. I think they were mostly glad. He beat up on them when he came home."

Maya just shook her head at the matter-of-fact manner this news was delivered. How did children ever grow up to be decent, caring people in this crazy world? Johnny, for instance, was kind and enthusiastic and intelligent. How had his finer qualities ever survived his early years?

"Some people need to take a course or two in anger management," she said dryly.

Johnny looked surprised. "There must be courses in everything. I'm going to get a college degree. I can work my way through, just like you, only maybe as a cowhand instead of a baby-sitter."

Her heart warmed as he cast her an admiring glance, then quickly looked away. These were the moments a teacher lived for—seeing the results of your efforts pay off in a student's desire to learn more.

Teaching was definitely the career for her, so she'd done one thing right. It was the rest of her life that was in turmoil. She swallowed as yearning overcame reasoning. She wanted to follow her heart and forget the problems that, at midnight, seemed insurmountable.

"Let's get to work," she said huskily. "I brought you a new book. The kids in this story have an interesting adventure. I liked the way their characters developed as the story progressed."

For the next two hours she concentrated on her tasks, putting aside her own worries as she taught her students how to decipher letters to make sounds, then words, then sentences that made sense. She was pleasantly surprised to see that Johnny had indeed handled the problems just fine.

"Next time they'll be harder," she promised, giving him a narrow-eyed scrutiny that made him laugh.

"She's really tough," Drake said, entering the room.

"Yeah." With another laugh, the teenager picked up the new adventure novel about three kids who got lost from their family and managed to find their way home, learning and growing as they worked together to make it.

Before the trip back to the hacienda, Marissa awoke and demanded her lunch.

"When does she eat?" Drake asked.

"When she wants to. I'm following a feed-on-demand philosophy at present. When she's a month old, I'll gradually work into scheduled feedings. At least, that's my plan. Putting it into action may be something different."

His chuckle warmed her heart. Lifting the baby, she unbuttoned her blouse and lowered the nursing bra. Marissa suckled in her usual noisy way, then fell into a light slumber. Maya tapped her on the cheek to remind her to stick with the business at hand.

The baby roused with an irritated cry, then nursed again. Each time she fell asleep, Maya woke her.

"Maybe she's not hungry," Drake suggested.

"If she demands a meal, then she has to cooperate. I don't want her to develop the habit of eating just enough to take the edge off her appetite, then falling asleep. I can't nurse her every few minutes."

"I see."

"I'm lucky that I can have her with me while I work. It must be terribly hard on those parents who can't."

Drake nodded thoughtfully. "I'd like for you to show me how to take care of her, if you don't mind. I figure I'd better start now in preparation for those times when she stays with me and I have to do everything."

Stunned by the implications of this statement, Maya could only stare at him for a few seconds. She finally asked, "Are you planning on her living with you?"

"It's traditional for fathers to get their kids during vacations and holidays, isn't it?"

Maya could scarcely breathe, much less answer. "I—I suppose. Would you want to do that? A child is a lot of responsibility. You couldn't go off—"

"I know that," he said when she stopped, her thoughts in a muddle.

Maya finished the feeding session and they made their way silently back to the house. Drake carried the infant seat, diaper bag and her briefcase inside.

"Drake," Teddy called, coming from the family theater over the five-car garage and clambering down the steps. "Can we do some roping now?"

"You have homework first," Maya reminded them.

"Why do we always have to do dumb homework?" Joe Junior groused, following his brother.

"Because you did poorly on your math," Drake answered. "Maya's going to teach me to bathe Marissa. You two get your work done, then we'll talk about roping."

Joe wrinkled his nose in disbelief. "You're going to give Marissa a bath? She's just a baby."

"Yeah, and a girl," Teddy added, as if this were the crowning insult.

"I happen to like girls," Drake told the younger boys with a grin. "Especially when they're as pretty as their mama."

His look of frank admiration produced the familiar longing. Flustered, she led the way to her room.

"Can we watch?" Teddy wanted to know, obviously curious about this aspect of adulthood. "Is it hard to give babies baths? Hey, maybe we can help."

"You can powder her," Maya promised.

She showed them the little plastic washbasin she used for the baby. "Stick your elbow in to test the temperature."

Each male solemnly bared his elbow and checked the water. "Feels okay to me," Joe said, going first.

The other two agreed it did.

She showed them how to undress Marissa, holding her head so it didn't bobble and stripping the gown and diaper off. "Put your left arm under her head and hold on to her left arm. That way she can't wriggle free when she's all slippery with soap."

She showed them how.

"Okay, we can take over now, can't we, men?" Drake asked.

"Sure," the boys said, full of confidence.

Maya, not at all sure this was the thing to do, sat in the rocking chair and watched the operation through the open door to the bathroom. With much discussion and some adult chuckling and little-boy giggling, they washed the baby, then powdered and dressed her.

Drake, she saw, was quite competent at the task. During the past six days, he'd watched everything she did, staying close to her and the baby during most of their waking hours. It was almost like being married.

Almost, but not quite.

Her heart clenched as she thought of the days and years ahead. If Drake was planning on making a place in his life for his daughter, that was good, wasn't it? Didn't it show he was willing to accommodate a family? Maybe she was being stubborn, as he said.

Sitting at her desk, she checked her e-mail and phone messages, then the boys' papers from their day at school. By the time she finished, the guys were finished, too. The baby, with a wise stare at Maya, closed her eyes and went right to sleep when placed in her bassinet.

"She's a good baby, isn't she?" Drake said, watching his sleeping daughter.

"Yes."

"Maya, was I a good baby?" Teddy demanded.

Maya grinned. "You cried all night, every night, for the first month."

He laughed. "What about Joe?"

"He knew he'd found a good home from the first. He hardly ever cried. But when he did, look out! He could keep it up for hours." She smiled, then gestured toward the other end of the room. "Now, homework."

The boys took their places at each side of her desk and dutifully opened their books. Drake settled in the rocking chair with a magazine on parenting. Maya continued reading her book on childhood development. That was how Ms. Meredith found them when she came in.

"Well, if this isn't the cozy family scene," she said, pausing in the open doorway.

Maya stiffened at the sarcastic undertone, but she managed a calm smile. It didn't do to let the other woman see that she could upset her.

"Hello, darlings," Meredith went on. "Don't you have a kiss for your mother?"

The boys leaped up from their homework and rushed to Meredith's arms, where they were soundly kissed and petted. Their mother gave them each a bag of candy and permission to eat it. Maya refrained from mentioning dinner was less than two hours away.

Meredith questioned the boys extensively about their activities, lavishing attention on them as she hadn't done in days. Or weeks, Maya thought. In fact, Ms. Meredith had seemed distracted, her temper more uncertain, since…since Joe's birthday party.

Well, it must be pretty scary when someone took a shot at your husband. Anyone would be distracted.

However, Joe had been a U.S. Senator in the past. He'd struck it rich in oil long ago, then moved into other enterprises. A man in his position would make enemies no matter how nice he really was. People were jealous—

Another thought occurred to Maya. Ms. Meredith acted almost jealous of her own husband, not because of other women, but because their children obviously loved and respected their father. It struck Maya as very odd.

Recalling the conversation with Drake about his mother being different, she felt a chill creep along her scalp. What was going on in the Colton household?

* * *

At nine-thirty, Maya entered the living room where Drake, holding Marissa, talked with his father. He'd taken over the care of the baby while she supervised the boys' baths and saw them to bed. The scene between father and son looked so peaceful, she hated to intrude.

"Excuse me. I thought I'd get Marissa now and put her to bed." She hovered at the hall doorway.

"Come in, Maya," Joe invited. "Won't you join us for a few minutes? Men need the company of women to keep us up on our manners, don't we, son?"

"Uh, right. Anything you say, Dad," Drake agreed with wry humor.

He gave her a once-over that brought a glow to her face. She'd showered and put on a long skirt and top outfit in dramatic red and black that complemented her coloring, one she hadn't been able to wear for five months. Tonight she felt attractive as a woman again.

Choosing an easy chair, she sighed as she relaxed, the many demands of the day at last over.

"Tired?" Joe asked kindly.

She hesitated about admitting a weakness, then nodded. "The longest the baby has slept at a time has been three hours. I didn't realize waking several times during the night would be so draining."

During the past week, she'd often wondered how her mother had made it, caring for this big house, planning and cooking meals, then keeping her own home clean and neat as well as taking care of a husband and two children. All her memories were of a happy, tireless woman who rarely got cranky or complained about all the work to be done. Maya didn't think she was made of the same caliber stuff.

Then, having admitted fatigue, she worried that Joe would think she was neglecting her duties to his sons. "Joe and Teddy have been wonderful about helping with the baby. And getting their homework done without coaxing."

"Good. If they give you any trouble, let me know." The older man stared out at the dark patio, his expression frowning and thoughtful.

"Maya needs weekends off," Drake said suddenly. "She works seven days a week. I'm pretty sure that's against the labor laws."

His father swung his head around, his eyes narrowed as he studied his son. Drake gave him a level stare.

"You're right, son. Maya, my apologies to you. I've been so caught up in…other things, I've not paid much attention to the younger boys or the number of hours you've been putting in."

"It's okay," she hastened to assure him. "Mom helps when I need it. That is, when she's not busy in the house or with meals. And Dad, too, when he's not working on the garden."

She realized her whole family was beholden to the Coltons for their livelihood. By choice, though. Both her parents had been offered high salaries and other benefits by visitors to the hacienda who had seen their work.

"A family that plays together, stays together," Joe murmured. "Working together is important, too, or just being there for each other."

Drake cast a quiet glance her way, his gaze filled with dark thoughts that she sensed were painful.

"You were there," she reminded him, "when Marissa was born. You helped…" She lost the thought as his perusal sharpened.

"But I wasn't with you during the months before that."

She sensed the criticism he directed at himself. He wasn't a man who could easily brush off his failings. "You didn't know. I'm sorry for not writing. I realize I should have. You had a right to know about the baby."

His eyes locked with hers as golden threads of longing arced between them, reminding her of all the things she loved about this man. That he was honorable went without saying. That he was gentle and caring and considerate was also true. He took his responsibilities seriously.

Perhaps she was being stubborn and proud, thinking only of her own bruised feelings after reading that note.

There's no place in my life for a wife and family.

Those words still caused an ache inside, indicating as they did that he'd only had a brief time for her as a lover, but nothing more. She shook her head slightly, denying the pain. Regret was a useless emotion unless it brought a change in future actions.

If she had been positive he loved her, she would have accepted his proposal and tried to help him with the past. However, she wouldn't become an added responsibility, their lovemaking yet another mistake he had to atone for.

That was the unkindest cut of all, she mused, borrowing a phrase from Shakespeare. That he considered their time together a mistake, one that he would have to pay for in marriage and child support all his life, brought such a flurry of regret on her part that she wanted to put her head down and cry out her misery.

Of course she didn't. Instead, she smiled and listened to the men chat about the various Colton projects and children, both natural and foster.

Marissa woke, stretched, then nuzzled Drake's shirt. Not finding what she wanted, she screwed up her face and let out a wail.

"Here, Mom, I think this is your department," Drake said with a smile. He brought the baby to her.

She rose, intending to go to her room, but Joe gestured for her to be seated.

"There's something special about a mother nursing her child," he said. "It brings out the most tender of feelings in men."

"Yes," Drake agreed. "And protective, too. Having a child puts things in a different perspective."

Maya saw the two men exchange a look as she settled down to feed the hungry baby, who stopped crying as soon as she found the nourishment she wanted. When it was time to burp the child, Drake took Marissa from her, laid the baby across his knees and patted her back.

"She likes this position best," he told his dad, sounding very much an expert on the subject.

"Michael preferred that one, too, but you always had to be up on my shoulder where you could see what was going on. You used to scrutinize everyone who came into the room. If you didn't like their looks, you bellowed until they left."

Maya laughed at this picture of the young Drake.

"You hear that?" Drake asked the baby in jest. "She's laughing at your ol' dad, kid." He got up and brought Marissa back to Maya. As he laid her in Maya's arms, the back of his finger brushed lightly against her breast. Flames shot to the spot, then swept outward to every point in her body. He must have felt it, too.

Immediately he moved away. "Sorry," he murmured.

She nodded self-consciously, hating the blush she could feel invading her face.

Joe stood up. "You young people will have to excuse me. It's been a long day, and I think I'll go along to my room. There's a report I need to look over before I go to bed."

Maya echoed Drake's "Good night" as the older man left them. She wondered if Joe thought they should be alone.

To work out their problems?

He was kind and thoughtful, but she didn't want to be alone with Drake. It was too dangerous to her peace of mind. She shifted the baby to the other breast to finish feeding.

"I wish I had the right to touch you without apology," Drake said, taking her by surprise.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"If we were married, would I have to apologize for accidentally brushing against you?"

She didn't answer as she helped the baby latch on. Wincing as her breasts gave that funny, almost painful, sensation—her milk coming down, her mother had told her—she slowly shook her head.

He snorted ruefully. "You had to think about it long enough before answering."

"I wasn't sure what to say. Even if we were married, I'm not sure what rights we would have…over each other," she added.

"All the rights of a husband and wife to caress and touch each other and to enjoy each other's company."

"Physically?"

He became thoughtful. "That's part of it, but not all. There're other ways of sharing. Like now. I like watching you while our daughter nurses. It makes me remember touching you there and how much I enjoyed it. I know we can't make love until the doctor checks you out, but I like thinking about it and how you responded. Those little breathy cries drove me wild."

Aghast at his candid remarks, she gave him a repressive scowl. "I'm not going to continue an affair with you, Drake," she informed him stoically, meaning it, yet afraid she wouldn't be able to hold to that decision if he pursued her.

"I thought that was part of marriage."

He gave her his most innocent look, which was totally belied by the sexy simmer in his eyes.

"Oh. Marriage."

"Yes, marriage." He took a deep breath. "I'll not settle for less between us. Our daughter deserves a settled family life. As well as our other children."

Maya gasped. "Are you suggesting…Do you think that I, that we…"

"Yes, we will."

She could only stare at him in shock.

"It will happen. We're too volatile together. There's need and hunger and feelings between us. We've shared too much. I've told you about the ghosts that haunt me from the past. Is it fair to use that to keep me at a distance?"

Maya lowered her head, not sure what to say.

"Is it?" he persisted softly. "I've offered you a future with me as my wife. I want to help raise our child." He paused, then went on quietly, "I want other children. With you. You're the only woman I can see as their mother."

"That's not fair, Drake."

"It's true. You are my future. If you're not it, then I don't know what it will be. I'm tired of the dark, Maya. Give me the sunshine of your love, and I'll pledge you my future, my love, anything you want. If you'll but have me."

The hot, desperate tears clawed at her throat. "A humble Drake?" she managed to say with only a slight tremor in her voice. "Is this the man we know and love?"

He slid a finger under her chin and gently lifted so that their eyes met. "I hope so," he said sincerely. "We have a beautiful daughter. We've shared a great passion. Surely that's enough for a beginning."

"Maybe."

"Then, marriage?"

She shook her head. "I can't. There's something, a barrier…I can't explain."

He sighed. "Okay. I have to finish my present assignment. That will give us six months to discuss and plan for the future. I'll call, and we can e-mail each other. Will you give me that time?"

Staring into his eyes, she nodded, not sure what she was promising.

"In the meantime, I want to be part of your life for the rest of my leave. Let's relax and enjoy our baby."

His mood changed, his grin becoming cocky and entirely too knowing when it came to her, but love, she found, was stronger than pride or fear or any other emotion. She had to take a chance and see where this might lead.

"All right," she said.

He clutched his heart. "The lady agrees. I must be dreaming."

She joined in his laughter, hearing a new note in it. No, not new, old—the old Drake of long ago.

Perhaps there was a future for them after all.




Twelve

"Where are you?" Patsy Portman, who had called herself Meredith Colton for ten years, demanded. "It's about time you called."

"I'm in Redding. I've got some news," Silas Pike, who preferred to be called "Snake Eyes," told her. "You want to hear it or not?"

"Of course I want to hear it! Have you found Emily?"

"Not exactly—"

Patsy huffed in exasperation. "I'm not sending you any more money."

"Will you hold on to your horses and let me finish?" he demanded belligerently. "I found the trucker who picked her up, some hayseed driving a hay truck."

He laughed as if he'd said something extraordinarily witty. Patsy rolled her eyes. "And?"

"He gave her a ride to Wyoming."

"Big deal. We already suspected she was in Wyoming."

Obviously considering himself a super-sleuth, Silas gave his little self-satisfied laugh. "Now we have proof. Some regulars in this truck stop recall her asking about some hick town of Needle Creek."

Patsy could feel her flesh tingle. "Nettle Creek?" She'd nearly forgotten about the McGrath homestead where Joe had been raised. She hadn't been there and had no desire to go to that godforsaken place in the middle of nowhere. Prosperino was bad enough, thank you very much! "You fool, Pike. It's Nettle Creek. She must have gone to her uncle Peter's place."

"I know all about him. As I see it, all I have to do is mosey on up to Nettle Creek, find the McGrath place, and bingo, we'll have the kid."

"Well, do it," Patsy instructed. "And hurry. Things aren't looking good on this end."

They made arrangements to talk in three days' time and hung up. Patsy slipped the tiny cell phone into her pocket. It produced a pulse she could feel against her thigh instead of ringing, so no one knew when she got a call. Joe didn't even know about the phone. She'd gotten it under a fictitious name.

Smiling with delight at fooling Joe and his watch-dogs—that hateful Peter McGrath and his daughter Heather, now married to that nosy detective, Thaddeus Law, and Joe's stupid kids—she danced around the room. When her elated mood passed, she went over the situation again.

Letting Emily Blair Colton live after the accident ten years ago had been a mistake. She should have bashed in the brat's head after she'd forced Meredith off the road and into the ditch.

But she'd had to get rid of Meredith at the time. Unable to take the chance that a body might be found and discovered to be the real Meredith, she'd hit on another, quite brilliant plan.

Meredith hadn't known what was happening when Patsy delivered her to the clinic for the criminally insane where she'd once been held. That had worked out great.

In fact, other than the glitch of getting pregnant with Teddy, life had worked out according to plan. Everything had been going fine until Joe's birthday party.

Whoever had shot at him had ruined her plans. Joe'd been all ready to drink his glass of champagne—which contained a nasty little birthday present from her personally—when that idiot had fired…and missed! Joe had dropped the glass without touching a drop.

It was discouraging. With Emily's increasingly frequent nightmares about the accident and insisting there had been two Merediths at the scene, one good and one evil, Patsy had no choice but to get rid of the girl, who was now a young woman. That was why she'd had to hire Snake Eyes.

All this extra worry left her with no time to concentrate on getting rid of Joe and finding her sweet baby, Jewel, and looking for a house of her own. Maybe in San Francisco. One of those mansions down at the marina perhaps, or in Pacific Heights. Lombard Street, the block billed as the crookedest street in the world, was elite, but there were all those tourists to deal with. Nob Hill, of course, was quite passé.

She sighed as she settled on the silk brocade lounge chair. Her life was too complicated by far. She liked the current notion of simplifying things. Which was exactly what she was trying to do. With Joe and Emily—and Snake Eyes Pike—out of the way, her life would be much simpler. She laughed and laughed at the idea.

* * *

Emily Blair Colton studied herself in the mirror. A natural chestnut redhead, she wondered if she should dye her hair to make it harder for anyone to trace her. The kind trucker who had given her the ride to Wyoming might easily recall a redhead, but could he identify her if she were a blonde or brunette?

Turning, she paced the room.

Was she being paranoid about her adoptive mother and the evil twin? Perhaps the creep who had tried to murder her had no connection to her nightmares concerning the accident years ago and her dreams, or memories, of seeing two Merediths, one dazed and shaken from the auto wreck, holding her head where she bled from a cut, and the other Meredith, a gleeful smile on her face, coaxing the injured Meredith into the unknown vehicle that had swerved at them and forced their car off the road.

Emily had passed out then from her own injuries. When she'd come to, safe in the hospital, there had only been one Meredith. Everyone had assured her she was suffering hallucinations, but there was one thing—her mother had never called her "Sparrow" again after that. She didn't seem to recall the nickname she'd given Emily.

There'd been other changes, too, little things too numerous to overlook, but not obvious enough to warrant an investigation. Anyhow, how did you investigate a feeling that things weren't right?

Her best friend and cousin, Liza Colton, had believed her from the first. Now Rand, the oldest Colton son, seemed nearly convinced, too. He'd asked Austin McGrath check out their mother. Mother? Emily thought of her as the evil twin from her nightmares.

Pain pierced her heart. What had happened to the good Meredith, the tender woman who had adopted her and saved her from a life of loneliness and fear when she was orphaned?

Whatever the cost, she knew they had to find out the truth. She needed to call Rand and see if Austin had learned anything more about Meredith's past. She'd always been rather silent about her youth.

Emily put on her new heavy coat and started off for work. Her job as a waitress gave her the means to stay in Keyhole, where she felt safe. Sort of.

Rand thought she should come stay with him, but she was afraid she'd be traced too easily to her oldest brother. He agreed everything was in a mess concerning her disappearance and she was still in grave danger.

Someone had collected the ransom money Joe had paid for her safe return, but who?

The supposed kidnapper was pretty bold to demand ransom when he didn't even have a victim. Was he or she a mere opportunist? Or was the evil Meredith in cahoots with someone else?

Tears burned as Emily trudged to the café, entered the back door and hung up her warm clothing. There seemed no end to the nightmare her life had become.

Toby Atkins was at the café counter when she started on duty. "Hi," he said, putting his coffee cup down.

The young law officer was blond and handsome in a boyish way, although Emily had to admit his lanky, six-foot frame wasn't boyish in the least. He contributed to her feeling of safety in the small town, but his attention was troublesome, too. He was both suspicious of her and interested in a man-woman way.

There was certainly no room in her life at present to even consider that kind of thing. She was doing her best just to stay alive!

* * *

Drake entered the kitchen where Maya and her mom worked quietly together in the manner of women who had long done so. He found it comforting in a way his own family life had rarely been. There was a graciousness in the Ramirez family dealings with each other, their caring for each other always forming the backdrop of their relationship.

The dark cloud of past mistakes seemed to draw closer as he thought of the Coltons. An ominous sense of foreboding gathered inside him. He wasn't sure if it was due to his past or to the present worries. He'd talked to Rand last night, but neither had any new information.

Today was Wednesday, the first day of March. He'd arrived on the sixth. Almost a month.

Whenever he came upon Maya, an incredible burst of anticipation overrode common sense. He wanted to go to her, to kiss her until they were both breathless.

Although he knew better than to expect total happiness, being with her and the baby brought a new dimension to his days. True, life had a way of slapping a person down and reminding one of the grim realities, yet he was aware of a lightness to his step whenever he headed for the house, knowing his two girls were there.

His?

The scar on his hip throbbed, as if his body wanted to caution him about expecting too much of the future. "I'm going to my room to change," he told the two women. "I'll see you at lunch."

"Right." Maya watched him go, her heart righting itself with an effort. It was scary to love someone so much and know your happiness was in his hands.

"It will work out," her mother said unexpectedly.

"Will it?" She didn't see how. Hearing Marissa whimper through the baby monitor, she hurried to her room.

The baby cried during the diaper change, but stopped when Maya sat in the rocker and played hand-clapping games and talked nonsense with her. After stimulating Marissa into wakefulness, she nursed the baby, her thoughts in limbo as she stared out at the rolling land and hills surrounding the ranch.

Outside, it was a cold, clear winter day. Friday was supposed to be misty, according to the weather report that morning. A chill attacked her heart, and she wished for the warmth of summer. She'd always assumed she would be a June bride. She smiled at the mockery of it all. Here she was a mother without ever being a bride.

After nursing Marissa, she put the baby in the bassinet. Her father had gotten her old crib from the attic of their house and was in the middle of repainting it. He'd promised it would be ready by the end of the week.

She liked the idea of having the bed for her baby. Then she wondered where she and Drake and Marissa would be by the end of March. So much seemed to have happened already—his return, the birth, now a new element had entered their relationship. He stayed close to them, holding the baby and rocking her, helping with bathtime. There was that new undernote of happiness in him, too.

It almost made the darkness disappear. Almost.

"Mom, the monitor is on," she said through the intercom. "I'm going to go over Joe's math homework with Ms. Meredith. Yell if you hear the baby."

Her mother answered through the central unit. Maya picked up the school papers from her desk and headed for her boss's quarters. She really dreaded facing the woman, as her mood swings were completely unpredictable.

Just as she started down the hall of the south wing, she saw Drake slip into his mother's room.

Maya slowed, wondering if she should interrupt. However, Ms. Meredith had given orders for a daily report on Joe's progress with percent problems. Maya walked on. At the closed door, she hesitated again, then knocked.

No answer.

The hair prickled on the back of her neck. She knocked again. Still no answer. All was silent.

Drake's being in his mother's room when she apparently wasn't there struck Maya as odd. She quietly opened the door. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Drake was bending over an open drawer of Meredith's desk. He jerked around with a glare, then smiled.

"Caught in the act. I must be getting careless," he said, then shrugged. "I'm obviously going through my mother's things."

"Why?"

"I'm out of pocket money and thought I'd steal some?" he suggested.

"Huh."

"You won't go for that?"

"No. What are you looking for? Where is your mother?"

"She decided to go to San Francisco for the day. I'm looking for clues."

Maya laid Joe's math homework, graded and returned by his teacher, on Ms. Meredith's desk. "To what?"

"Anything. I don't really know," he added at her frown.

"Does this have to do with the questions you asked me before, the ones about your mother?"

"Give me a minute, then we'll talk."

Maya shut up and watched him thoroughly go through the desk, including checking every drawer and the desk itself for hidden compartments, she supposed. He looked through a file drawer, whistled when he saw the duns and the amount of money she owed to various merchants, then moved on. He then proceeded to search the rest of the room just as thoroughly.

"Nothing," he said at last. "Let's go."

Taking her arm, he ushered her into his room. Maya wasn't at all sure about being alone with him in his bedroom. It was a familiar place and brought back remembered ecstasy. And remembered pain.

He closed the door and leaned against it. "Trapped," he murmured without a smile to show he was teasing.

The latent fire in his eyes warmed her clear through. "What were you looking for?" she asked.

"Evidence that my mother isn't the woman she claims to be."

Maya recalled their previous conversations about the changes in his mother, about the fact that she'd had a twin. But he'd told her the twin had died. The implications became clear. She clutched a hand to her chest. "Surely you don't think…You can't possibly believe…"

"What?"

"That this twin…No, it's too preposterous!"

"Is it?" He paced the room. "Things have changed, but when did it happen? Mother was different after the accident that time when she was taking Emily to visit her biological grandmother."

"When Emily thought she saw two Merediths."

"Yes."

Maya had never seen Drake look so grim. "Have you talked to Sophie or Amber about this?"

"No, only Rand. As you said, it's too preposterous."

"But it could be true."

"Then you believe me?"

"Of course," she said, giving it no further thought.

He stopped in front of her. "Thank you. Sometimes it seems as if we must be crazy, that no one could carry on a charade for ten years."

"Unless you were an identical twin." She considered her studies of personality types. "Con artists are very good at insinuating themselves into people's lives. They're like chameleons. They take on the protective coloring of their surroundings. How can I help?"

A muscle moved in his jaw. "Just by being here," he murmured, his eyes boring into hers.

She didn't move when he slipped his hands behind her neck and, using his thumbs, held her face up to his. She knew his intention, but she stayed still.

The kiss was gentle and sweet, so sweet. It flowed into her like warm syrup, soothing a place in her soul. She breathed deeply of him, drawing his scent into her lungs, filling herself with him, this man.

Drake. Beloved.

Lifting her arms, she held on to his shoulders, feeling the strength he kept in check as he pulled her closer. For some reason, she was reminded of their first kiss last summer, the tenderness of it, the questioning of the emotion behind the kiss, the hunger that went deeper than the mere physical.

"I need you," he whispered, pressing her cheek to his chest and planting kisses along her temple. "It's always there, an ache that won't go away."

She could have wept at the despair in his voice. "I don't want to hurt you. I want you to be happy," she told him, clutching his shirt.

He cupped her face again and nibbled at her lips in little hungry forays that didn't near satisfy her need for the taste and feel of him. "You are my happiness."

She shook her head, knowing the darkness still possessed his soul, sensing it even as he touched and caressed her. She held him tightly, as if to give him her warmth, as if her love might brighten that dark area.

"Maya," he said, his voice hoarse with intensity. "My sweet lover, my dream come true. Let me hold you, just for a while. I've missed you."

The hunger swept up from that deep well of need that only he stirred. "This is no good," she tried to tell him, even as she caressed and stroked. "We have to think—"

He lifted his head, his eyes haunted. "Perhaps that's been our problem. We think too much, you and I. I need to touch you, to remember how you feel in my arms."

"Why? We can't go any further."

"Shh," he said. "I just want to hold you, that's all. It's enough for now."

Shaking her head helplessly, she let him enfold her and felt the bitterness of the past few months fade from memory. She lifted her face to his, the sweetness of the moment filling her whole being.

He kissed her deeply, with passion held carefully in check, his hands roaming her back, his strong fingers massaging her flesh as if finding the reality of her through his touch.

Sensing his longing, she returned the kiss, satisfying her own yearning for him.

"I miss those little cries you used to make," he told her, nipping at her lips, her ear, her throat. "I wake at night, thinking I can hear you, and realize it's only a dream. Lying in a tent in the jungle, I think of you. On maneuvers in the desert. Parachuting onto an ice floe. It doesn't matter. You go wherever I go."

"But only in your dreams," she reminded him, feeling the hurt of his leaving all over again, even as she returned his kisses. "It's never real."

"It was real last summer. We created a child."

Pressing her forehead against his chest, she swallowed painfully. "We were both foolish. We shouldn't be again."

He opened a button and trailed kisses downward. Another button. More kisses. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing.

"I've told myself the same thing. But holding you doesn't feel foolish. It's good, so good."

The husky passion thrilled her now as it had in June. When he sat on the bed, she went with him willingly, settling in his lap as the hot passion built between them.

"So strong," she whispered. "I never knew this could be so strong, the need so compelling."

"I know. It's the same with me. Nothing, no one else, can begin to satisfy it."

"Yes," she said on a gasp when he finished unfastening the buttons and pushed the blouse off her shoulders.

"I need to feel you against me, skin on skin." His eyes were molten, his expression one of intense wonder.

Hands trembling, she helped him slip out of his long-sleeved shirt, an old flannel one he'd had for ages. He eased them gently down on his bed, until they were lying side by side, his arm under her head.

"We lay like this the first time, remember? I was inside you, and we stayed together like this."

"Yes, I remember," she said softly, lost in the past and all the wonderful misty dreams she harbored about them. "Being together…so new and wonderful."

"And magic. All that magic."

"I didn't know you felt it."

"Every time I looked at you, touched you, it was the same. You glowed from inside, like some kind of fire I couldn't ignore."

"It was the same for me," she told him, spellbound all over again.

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Propping himself on an elbow, he drew smaller and smaller circles on her breasts, first one, then the other. Two tiny damp spots appeared on the satiny material of her bra.

Slowly, carefully, he peeled one nursing flap open. A drop of milk appeared on her nipple. He bent and touched his tongue to it. "The stuff of life," he whispered. "It's in you, part of you, of the magic. No wonder we made a child."

She stroked the hair from his forehead. "It's part of you, too, Drake. The spark came from both of us, not me alone. It took both of us."

"I know. I still can't believe it."

"I can. You have so much goodness inside you. I've always known it."

"How?" he asked, pain in his eyes. He shook his head as if he didn't understand. "How can you see goodness when I see only darkness?"

She had no answer. Pulling his head down, she held him close, needing to comfort his lost, questing heart.

Bending, he kissed her exposed breast tenderly, then laved up the drops of nourishment. Closing the bra, he kissed along her neck while he held and explored her with the greatest tenderness she had ever known.

"You're the one good thing," he told her, "the only good thing in my life, you and the baby."

She wanted to ask why he wouldn't let them be part of his life, but she didn't. This moment was special, and they'd had few of those during the past month.

"Hold me," she whispered.

"I will," he said and it sounded like a promise.

The moments flew past. Thirty minutes. An hour. And still he held and caressed her, taking them no farther than deep kisses and playful explorations of her mouth with his.

He cupped his body around hers, laying her legs over his thighs as he'd done the last time they'd made love. Still propped on one arm, he touched her over and over—breasts, waist, thighs—as if he couldn't get enough of the wonder of her.

"You make my heart sing," she said at one point. She lightly ran her fingertips through the wiry patch of hair on his chest.

He smiled, his gaze peaceful, as if these stolen moments together had soothed something in his soul, although there was still tense passion in his body.

"We need to marry," he said.

"Not yet."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"We can work it out."

His words conveyed confidence, but she shook her head. "You're not ready."

"Promise me something." He traced the outline of her lips, making her mouth burn for more of his kisses.

"What?"

"That in six months, whether you think I'm ready or not, you'll accept my proposal."

She tried to ignore the clamor of her too-eager heart. "If you ask again at that time, then I'll accept."

"Shall we tell our parents we're engaged?"

She wasn't that sure of the future. "I'd rather not."

For a moment, he didn't say anything, then he nodded and rose. Holding out a hand, he helped her up. They fastened their clothing and left his room.

"I still want to help with the mystery about your mother," she told him. "If there is a mystery."

"Something will break soon. I have a gut feeling about it. Austin or Thaddeus or someone will find a clue we've overlooked. Then we'll know."

A shiver went down her spine as they walked to her room to check on Marissa. Her mother was there, rocking the baby and singing quietly in Spanish.

Inez smiled benevolently at them as she stood. "She's been an angel. I just wanted to hold her."

"Thanks," Drake said. He took the baby and settled in the rocker. "Rocking a baby is relaxing, isn't it?"

Inez looked from him to his daughter, then laughed softly. "Yes, indeed." Still smiling, she left them.

Maya caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair was mussed, her lipstick gone, her cheeks rosy. "Oh, dear," she murmured.

Drake gave her a glance filled with obvious male satisfaction. "You look like a woman who has recently been rather thoroughly kissed."

Seeing his smile, she realized he looked the same with his hair tousled and half his shirt still unfastened.

"Where is this leading?" she questioned, voicing her worries.

"You know," he said quietly.




Thirteen

Maya woke slowly. She stretched luxuriantly, feeling truly rested. And happy in a way she hadn't been in a long time.

She and Drake and Marissa had spent every waking moment together over the weekend. Drake had been attentive, teasing her, playing with the baby and generally making himself useful. A couple of times he'd stolen a kiss, his hands and mouth gentle and enticing. Drake as smitten lover and supportive father was hard to resist.

How wonderful everything could be, if…

She wasn't sure what the "if" was comprised of, only that she felt the implied doubt of the word. For a second, she was saddened, then glancing out the window, she saw the sky was bright. Morning. She'd slept all night.

Throwing the covers off, she rose and went to the bassinet. The baby still slept, looking as sweet as an angel. Marissa hadn't awakened for the usual five-o'clock feeding.

Aware of her full breasts, Maya headed for the bathroom. She washed and dressed, then went to the kitchen. Her heart knocked a bit at finding Drake there. So was her mom and a new girl who was helping out for a few days.

Her mother introduced Maya to Elaine, a college student who was taking some time off her studies to explore the country. This was her first trip to northern California.

"Welcome to our end of the world," Maya said, pouring a cup of coffee and a large glass of milk.

"Thanks. Drake has been telling me about the coast along here. It's scary to drive Highway One, all those twists and turns and ups and downs."

Elaine looked like a California girl—all long legs and waist-length blond-streaked hair with the fresh-scrubbed, tanned face of an outdoors person—but her accent was pure Southern magnolia. She was from Kentucky.

Listening to the girl, who was about her age, talk about the adventures she'd had while traveling around the States, Maya suddenly felt her own provincialism. She'd never been anywhere farther south than San Francisco and north up to Ashland, Oregon, for the Shakespeare plays. Once her family had gone to Crater Lake to picnic and admire the scenery on a day trip.

When Inez left the kitchen and went to her own house, Maya felt very much the outsider as the other two continued chatting about their adventures.

Drake laughed at Elaine's stories and, at her urging, told of some of his own travails in his trips around the world. The two yakked like old friends catching up with each other's lives while Elaine washed pots and cleaned up the kitchen after breakfast for the house staff and ranch help.

"Excuse me," Maya murmured after eating half a bagel. She was aware of Drake's quick glance as she put her dishes in the dishwasher, then retreated to her own room.

There, she slumped into the rocker and faced the truth. She was jealous of the young woman who'd traveled all over, carefree and confident that she would be able to make her way anywhere she went. Drake had obviously found Elaine interesting and entertaining.

Maya pressed a hand between her aching breasts. She no longer felt young, and she hadn't been carefree since she was a teenager and started sitting with the youngest Colton boys. With a grimace at her own insecurities, she rose and went to the sleeping baby.

A child certainly changed one's perspective. Marissa was barely three weeks old, but Maya acknowledged the loneliness of responsibility and knew she had only herself to blame. She and Drake could have been married by now.

Would she then have been jealous of the lovely, carefree woman who roamed the world as she wished?

There's no place in my life for a wife…

She swallowed the searing agony that rose to choke her. In truth, he hadn't wanted her, but that didn't mean he might not meet someone—Elaine or a young woman like her—at a future date and want that person for a wife.

Drake knocked, then entered the room when she called, "Come in."

His keen gaze searched her face. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly, coming to her. He glanced at the baby. "Is Marissa all right?"

"Yes. I was just…"

She couldn't think of an explanation for what she was doing—standing by the bassinet and feeling miserable.

"Just feeling sorry for myself, I think," she admitted with wry honesty.

He looked puzzled. "Why?"

She shrugged. "It sounds fun, traveling about and having adventures."

Understanding dawned. He shook his head, his gaze surprisingly tender. "You aren't that kind of person. You belong here. I imagine Elaine's parents worry about her a lot. She admits she rarely thinks of calling them. You would never do that to the people you love."

She thought of the months when he hadn't called or written. His words only made her more miserable. When did love become crazy and exciting like in songs?

Last summer, she answered. Then it had been moonlight and magic. Now, there were the consequences. She loved Marissa, but life was more difficult now.

Drake lifted his hand, ran a finger over her chin and lips, then spoke softly, "I realized, listening to her, how selfish and uncaring that attitude is. I thought I was being noble to leave you, but now I wonder…"

"Perhaps you were wise to go," she suggested, ignoring the terrible hurt his words caused as he stopped speaking and stared at her thoughtfully.

"Or perhaps I was scared," he corrected, his tone going hard. "Elaine flunked out of school, it turns out, and her parents are furious with her. Maybe, like her, I find it easier to take off rather than face my failures."

Startled, Maya gazed at him, wondering what in the world he meant. "You've never failed at anything."

His expression was one of tender remorse. "I've failed with you. I lost your trust. I'm sorry for that. You needed me, and I wasn't there for you." He gave a snort of bitter laughter. "It's what I'm good at—getting others into trouble while I escape scot-free."

A sense of responsibility, that was what he felt for her, she realized. He felt he'd failed her as he failed his twin so long ago, running his bike off the road while Michael, riding behind him, hadn't had time to react.

"I'm not a child, Drake. I made my own decision about what happened between us last summer. You didn't seduce or force me into an affair. You're not responsible—"

"The hell I'm not!" He shook his head angrily. "I took part in our lovemaking, then ducked out, leaving a note guaranteed to keep you at bay. I know your pride. I knew my leaving like that would end the relationship. I meant for it to."

She turned away, unable to look at him while he tore her heart to shreds.

"I thought it was for the best," he finished grimly. "I was wrong."

"It doesn't matter," she told him, weary of emotions and yearning and impossible things. She didn't want guilt and recriminations. She wasn't going to get happiness, so why continue the discussion?

"It does to me. I want to make up for that. I want to make it right between us. Like it was for that one magical week in June."

The ache was unbearable. She shook her head, denying it, him, all the wild sweet passion they had shared, the love she'd thought they'd found.

"It can't be like that, not ever again. We can't go back, Drake. It's impossible." She faced him bravely. "It's impossible," she repeated.

The muscles clenched in his jaw. His eyes were stormy and dangerous, filled with a bitterness that made her ache for him, plus anger and a refusal to accept her words.

"We can't go back," he agreed in a hoarse voice, "but we can go forward. We have to. There's the child to think of. She needs both of us."

"I won't deny you your place in her life."

He spun away and paced the room as if marshaling his arguments, then he stopped by the door. His smile was raw and unexpected. "So you can't forgive me. I realize now that I was counting on that. You always had the tenderest heart. I think that's the hardest part of all to accept. I hurt my friend…and I'll never forgive myself for that."

He left quietly, slipping out the door without a sound, like a departing ghost.

Maya breathed out shakily, not sure where they were now or how any of this could work out. Her too-full breasts reminded her that she needed to feed the baby. Bending over the little bed, she called softly, "Hey, little one, your mommy needs you to wake up."

When she lifted the child, she knew at once something was very, very wrong. Marissa's skin was hot to the touch. Very hot. She opened her eyes, but the action was listless, as if she didn't care if she ever opened them again.

Grabbing the digital thermometer from off the dresser, Maya checked the baby's temperature. Gasping, she clutched the baby to her chest and ran for the door. While she and Drake had been quarreling, their baby had lain in bed, neglected and ill.

"Drake," she cried, running to the patio. "Drake!"

He was halfway across the lawn to the beach stairs. The wind coldly snatched his name from her lips and tossed it behind her. She clutched the baby and ran desperately toward him, fear lending wings to her feet.

"Drake!"

He turned around, saw her and ran back to meet her.

"The baby," she said. "She's running a fever."

"How much?"

"A hundred and four. We have to get to the hospital."

He nodded grimly. Taking her arm, they both ran. He beat her to his truck. Opening the door, he scooped her inside, then ran around and slid in the driver's side.

"Why didn't you tell me she was sick?" he demanded.

"I didn't know," she admitted. "I thought she was just sleeping a long time. She missed the five o'clock feeding. When I decided to wake her after you left, I found she was burning up."

"Could she have gotten hold of something?"

"No. I don't think so. She seemed okay last night. She didn't eat much, but I didn't think—She must have been getting ill then. I didn't notice. I should have checked her temperature. I should have done that when I first woke and realized she'd slept so long. I—"

"Hush," he said. "Don't go blaming yourself. I didn't notice anything different about her, either."

Maya was silent for the rest of the ride to the emergency room. She heard Drake's soothing words, but she didn't believe them. She was at fault. She should have noticed her baby was sick.

* * *

"Strep throat," the pediatrician said cheerfully. "It can come on fast with babies. She'll be fine. You can take her home as soon as the office finishes the paperwork. The nurse will bring you some samples of a fever reducer. Use it if her temperature goes up again."

Maya listened without taking her eyes off the baby. When they'd arrived at the local hospital, their regular pediatrician was making his rounds. He'd examined Marissa, nodded wisely when he'd peered into her mouth—that had made her whimper—then he'd ordered an IV. The drip tube had looked ominous as the nurse attached it to the tiny body. At noon, the doctor had checked her again and said she was ready to go home.

"Thank you," Drake said to the doctor when he left them alone in the room with its double cribs. The other baby bed was empty.

Maya sat beside the crib, her hand through the railing so she could touch the baby. Marissa instinctively clutched her mother's finger as she slept deeply.

"I've never seen her so still," Maya said in a soft voice. "It's almost as if she's…" She couldn't bring herself to say "dead."

"She's resting," Drake assured her. "She'll be okay."

Maya closed her eyes briefly, then looked at him. "No thanks to me. I should have noticed she wasn't feeling well last night. She didn't want to eat. It must have hurt to swallow, but I didn't notice."

Drake put his hands on Maya's shoulders, meaning only to soothe her, but lingering because it felt just plain good to touch her. "Hey, it's okay. Parents are human, too," he told her, trying for a lighter note.

But watching her as she kept her eyes glued to the crib, he knew words wouldn't replace the guilt she felt.

"She might have died," Maya went on doggedly. "And I wouldn't have noticed because I was too busy being jealous of you having fun with some female you just met."

Her confession hit his heart like individual flaming arrows of pain. He knelt beside her, worry eating at him. He and Maya had been caught up in their concerns, but they hadn't neglected the baby.

"You never have to be jealous of anyone. Don't you know you're the only woman in the whole world as far as I'm concerned?"

She shook her head.

Pain filling his chest, Drake bowed his head and rested his cheek on her temple. He'd hurt her in ways he could only guess at when he'd left her alone, with only that cruel note of explanation, to face the consequences of their brief time together.

He forced himself to face the truth. Because of his fear of loving someone, because he knew how it felt to be left behind with nothing but that love, because love came with hopes and fears and dreams attached, he'd denied any chance of a future between them. He'd run from the greatest happiness he'd ever known because he was a coward.

"Forgive me," he said. "You have to forgive me."

Giving him a baffled glance, Maya stood when the nurse came in. So did Drake.

"I need a signature," the older woman said. "Just sign your life away right here." She handed the forms to Drake with a bright smile, then checked Marissa. "What a little doll. Is she a good baby?"

"Yes," Maya said. "She hardly ever cries."

"My granddaughter had a lot of trouble with strep throat when she was little," the nurse continued. "We had her tonsils taken out when she was three. Her temperature would shoot up just like that." She snapped her fingers. "I hope this little one isn't going to go through that, but when they start this early…" She shook her head, then smiled. "It's only the first of the crises you can expect."

Laughing as if this were a huge joke, the woman checked the papers, instructed them on the use of some medicine packets she gave them, then ushered them out.

In the truck, going back to the ranch, Maya sighed. Drake cast her a quick glance. She was vulnerable at present. Maybe it wasn't a good time to talk.

At the house, he carried the baby in the infant seat into Maya's bedroom, then stood silently while Maya tucked the tiny girl into her bed and pushed it into the corner near her desk. She lowered the blinds so the room was in semidarkness.

"I'll get us some coffee," he volunteered. In the kitchen, he recalled they'd had no lunch. Elaine was there, peeling a mound of potatoes under Inez's watchful eye.

"Hi," she said, her smile bright.

Drake spoke automatically, then explained to Inez about the baby. Clucking, she prepared sandwiches and fruit, then sent him back with a tray.

"Tell Maya not to worry about the boys," she told him. "I'll look after them when they get home from school."

"Thanks."

He hurried to Maya. "Lunch," he said.

She hovered over the bassinet. "I'm not hungry."

"Then you can watch me eat."

He cleared a space and set the meal on her desk. Taking her arm, he guided her to a seat and put half a sandwich in her hand. "Eat. You need to produce milk."

When she managed an indignant glare, he was relieved. "You make me sound like a cow," she grumbled, taking the sandwich unwillingly.

After eating, he set the tray in the hall, something he wouldn't have ordinarily done, but it was time to talk.

Taking the chair beside her desk, he gazed at Maya. Her hair was held behind her ears with a stretchy band in deep gold. It matched the sweater she wore. Black slacks and a gambler's vest with a black satin back and gold and black brocade front completed the outfit.

She wore no makeup, but the freshness of her complexion needed no added color.

"I've always thought you were the most beautiful female I've ever known. You never had an awkward stage, but went directly from a child to a woman at some point. I don't know when. I wasn't looking."

She flashed him an incredulous glance, then turned her velvety brown gaze back to the baby.

"I know when I noticed, though," he continued, needing to get through this, to get it all said. "The year you were seventeen. I came home, saw you and didn't sleep the rest of my stay. Luckily, you were with Joe and Teddy all the time; otherwise, I might not have been able to resist—"

He paused, visions of her at that time segueing into images of her as she'd been at his father's birthday party last June. She'd worn a white dress with a lace jacket and pink roses in her hair.

His heart thudded loudly, reminding him of that first moment, when he'd walked out on the patio and there she'd been, arranging flowers around the huge birthday cake. He'd known…In that one moment, he'd known.

"Last summer…"

She dropped her head a bit so he couldn't see her eyes, and he recalled it was a mannerism she had when she didn't want him to read her thoughts.

"Last summer," he began again, "it was hopeless. As soon as I saw you, I knew how it was going to be for us. And it was," he ended softly.

Maya bit the inside of her lip to hold back the cry of protest that rose to her throat. "It isn't fair to remind me of how foolish we were."

"It wasn't foolish," he said in a slightly harder tone before his voice softened again. "It was wonderful and inevitable and meant to be. Neither of us could have stopped at that point."

She sighed, knowing he spoke true. Even knowing what was to come—his leaving, the painful discovery of the note, the realization that she was expecting—she would still have gone to him, into his arms, sharing his hot, wild kisses.

A low moan of pain and hunger and a hundred other things pushed through her clenched teeth.

He pulled his chair closer to hers so that their knees nearly touched. "As of this morning, I've been home a month. When I arrived, I fully expected to be a married man within a day, two at the most. I had planned it all out as if it was part of a campaign." He laughed without humor. "The first clue that things weren't going to go as I thought was finding you on a runaway horse. From there, it got worse."

"Drake, I need to study."

"Why? Didn't you ace your final exam?"

"Yes. I don't feel up to arguing with you."

"Then don't. Just listen. You were right about me and the past. I learned to live with Michael's death because I had to, but it was always there inside me, lingering like a festering wound, ready to break open at any moment."

"When happiness got too close," she said, intuitively knowing this was true.

"Yes. Last summer, with you, was the closest thing to total bliss I've ever known. Then I panicked and ran."

The sorrow of it came back to her, as fresh as the moment joy fled and agony started. "It was such a shock, waking and finding you gone."

"I said I wanted to save you pain, but it was myself I was protecting. If I lost you…If you came with me and something happened…It was a chance I couldn't take."

She saw the shadows race through his eyes like ghosts he couldn't shake.

He touched her cheek, then withdrew. "I've learned something this month. No one can predict life. You can't avoid it either by evasion or planning because you can't foresee bee stings or a child's illness." He gestured toward the sleeping baby.

Maya's breasts contracted, and she felt the familiar release of milk at his mention of the child. Her heart reacted in sympathy, contracting with hopeless longing as he explained why they had no future. As if she needed to hear it again. Wearily, she waited for him to finish.

"Or falling in love," he added softly. "My fate was sealed the moment I saw you. I walked across the patio to stand beside you. I've never left your side, not even when I was in a thousand miles away. You were there because you were in my heart, filling it with crazy, impossible dreams."

"Drake, please, you don't have to explain. I know you have to leave."

He dropped to his knees and slipped his arms around her waist. "Never," he vowed. "I never intend to leave you again. If you'll give me another chance." He looked deeply into her eyes. "I need you, sweet Maya, as a friend, a confidante and as my wife. Will you come with me, live with me and share whatever the future brings?"

"Why?" She really didn't understand what was suddenly different, but she knew something was. There was tension in Drake, yes, but there was something else—a sorrow coupled with a quiet expectation that she could detect but not explain.

Taking a deep breath, he told her, "I've let the past go. You were right. It was something I needed to do."

"How?" she whispered.

"Listening to you blame yourself for Marissa's illness, I realized how ridiculous that was. As if you were personally accountable for every danger that might cross her path. Sitting in the hospital I realized something else—that it wasn't my fault that I reacted quickly when that car came speeding around the curve. Michael didn't. He froze."

Looking at the terrible sadness in Drake's expression, Maya knew he was at last saying farewell to his twin. Her heart went out to him. Bending forward, she cradled his head against her breasts, offering him what comfort she could as he made this journey from the past to the present.

"He didn't run off the road into the ditch as I did. He simply stared at the car as it came at him. I think…I think I never forgave him for that. I couldn't forgive him for dying."

"You'd never been apart, and he left you behind," she murmured, understanding the loneliness he must have felt.

"Yes." Drake swallowed hard, then nodded toward the bassinet. "I want the promise of life she represents. She's our pledge to the future, yours and mine. Our future. I want that. I wasn't ready to admit it last June, but I am now. I want our children, how many you're willing to give me. Most of all, I want you."

With trembling hands, Maya cupped his face. She saw the truth in the depths of his gold-flecked eyes.

"I love you with all my heart," he said. "All of it. Marry me and I'll show you just how much."

She wanted to! So much! "What about the SEALs and your career with them?"

"If you don't mind living on or near the base, we'll have six months to figure out what comes next. Can you finish your studies by e-mail?"

"Everything but the final exams."

"I think we can arrange to be in San Francisco when the time comes. Marriage?"

She nodded, too choked with emotion to speak.

He laughed softly, lifted her into his arms, swung them around in a dizzy circle, then fell into the rocking chair, which creaked indignantly at being treated in such a rough fashion.

"I love you," he whispered, then simply gazed at her.

"I love you, too." She hugged him tightly. "I've always loved you."

"Lucky me."

Then he kissed her as if there were no tomorrow, until they were both breathless and filled with longing. Just when things were becoming unbearably interesting, they heard a whimper, then a full-fledged cry.

"The future speaks," he said, lifting his head, his eyes alight with the fire of passion.

And joy, she thought, as she went and lifted the hungry baby. She changed Marissa's diaper, then settled in Drake's lap in the rocker when he opened his arms to them.

They were silent while the baby nursed. Maya, unable to keep from stealing glances at her beloved, marveled at how easy it all seemed at this moment.

The future would bring its own worries and pain and dark moments, but there would be happiness, too.

As if reading her mind, Drake murmured, "We can make it. The past is important. It's there to be learned from. That's what we have to remember. To learn and go forward."

"Yes. I think our daughter will be a good reminder of that fact. Children rush headlong into life. We'll have to keep up."

With a satisfied smile, Drake wrapped his arms around her and the baby. "We will," he promised.

Sitting quietly together, he felt Maya relax and drift into sleep. Marissa also slept. Through the window, Drake watched the shadows lengthen into late afternoon. On the path to the creek where he used to while away summer days, he saw a boy on a bike, a fishing pole strapped to the rear fender.

Drake blinked in surprise, wondering who it was.

The boy stopped at the top of the hill and turned. Drake stopped rocking and sat very still. The boy smiled at him, his dark hair blowing in the winter breeze, his eyes flashing golden in the sun. Then, with a wave, he rode on, over the hill and out of sight.

Drake swallowed hard. "Goodbye," he whispered. "Good fishing."

"What?" Maya asked sleepily.

"Nothing. I love you."

He held her close and felt her warmth spreading all the way down inside him, past the longing, the need, the hunger. Past the fear, right into the very heart of him. Right into his soul.

The baby stirred and made little sucking sounds. Maya sighed against his throat. Drake scrubbed the hot sting of tears from his eyes. Michael's future was somewhere out there, beyond the hills, but his was here, with his two loves. It was the future he wanted.




Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Laurie Paige for her contribution to THE COLTONS series.