The Billionaire's Secret Baby. CAROL DEVINE

he replied, helping himself to coffee. “All the women I sleep with have to pass muster, you see. I use the services of a private investigator, an extremely discreet one, I might add. Saves me from some nasty surprises. Like yours, for example.”

      “Katie was not a nasty surprise.”

      “Your marriage was.” He sipped from his mug, inspecting her with interest as he lounged against the counter, completely relaxed in his thousand dollar suit and hundred dollar tie.

      Meg hid the tremor of her hands by wrapping them around her mug. “You must have heard about it. I asked Amanda to tell your side of the family.”

      “She did, a week or so after the fact. Amanda also mentioned it wasn’t like you to be so secretive, Meg. All of a sudden you up and eloped, without one word to anybody. It created quite a stir, even in my family.”

      “It shouldn’t have. Allen and I had known each other since childhood.”

      “Yes, I understand he lived in the same neighborhood when you were kids. My investigator informed me, however, that the two of you lost touch with each other soon after you won that scholarship to the Sorbonne and moved away. Any truth to the rumor that good old Allen showed up on your doorstep at the precise moment you most needed a man to marry?”

      “How can you say that? He was my husband. I loved him.”

      “The question is, did you love him before you found out you were pregnant or after? My sources tell me he came into the picture after your positive pregnancy test. Several weeks after, in fact.”

      He did know everything. Stunned, Meg braced herself against the kitchen counter. Through the window above the sink, she saw the tree Allen had planted in the backyard the day Katie was born. “What do you want?”

      “Katie.”

      Meg stared at him. “You must be out of your mind.”

      “I don’t think a judge will think so, not in this day and age. Not when the rights of both biological parents are considered more or less equally. And since my daughter has been deliberately kept from me by her mother for almost five years, the judge may give my custody petition special consideration. Who knows what might happen?”

      “If you wanted Katie so much, you should have come forward long before now.”

      “And break up your little family? I’m much too noble for that. But now that Allen is gone...” Jack let the sentence hang, then smiled in cynical fashion. “Everybody in the country knows I lost my father at an early age. How can I allow my own flesh and blood to grow up without a father, too? What do you think, Meg? Will the tabloids buy it?”

      “You’re despicable.”

      He chuckled. “I think it makes pretty good copy myself. Might even score a special on TV. You know how famous we Tarkentons are.”

      “You think this is funny? You think you can come in here and destroy my daughter’s life?”

      “I’m not here to destroy anything. I want to be a father to Katie.”

      “Over my dead body.”

      He eyed her over the rim of his mug, amused. “Meg, I’d forgotten your flair for the dramatic.”

      “I am not being dramatic. Unlike you, I mean what I say.”

      “Oh, I get it. The woman scorned. You believed me when I said I’d call you.”

      Meg pointed at the door. “Get out. Get out of my house.”

      He became deadly serious, zeroing in on her with an intensity of purpose she recalled all too well. “You’re right. This is neither the time nor place to make a grieving widow relive her past. Believe it or not, I thought long and hard about whether I should force myself on you today. But there may be another Allen waiting in the wings. You surprised me once, Meg. You won’t surprise me again. I want to know my daughter.”

      “Do you have any idea what this will do to her?”

      “I’m fully aware I don’t know Katie as well as you do. That’s why I need your help.”

      “Oh, please. Do you think I’d actually help you? Do you really think I’d let someone like you anywhere near my daughter?”

      “Our daughter, Meg,” he said gently.

      “No! She’s mine, mine and Allen’s. He’s the only father she has ever known. I won’t let you take her away from me.”

      “I don’t want to take her, not from you. You’re all she’s got. I know it and you know it. That’s your ace in the hole and you can bet it’s a winning card. The last thing I would do to her, or to you, too, is take her away from you.”

      “I know you, Jack. Everybody does. You use people. I wouldn’t trust you no matter what you said.”

      “That’s the beauty of my plan. You don’t have to trust me.”

      “If that’s supposed to ease my mind, you’re sadly mistaken. In fact, I’m not interested in anything you have to say.” She headed for the door.

      “You’d better be interested.” He blocked her way.

      The quickness of his move flashed a memory of his body, lithe and naked, blocking her way. Except she’d liked it then. It meant he hadn’t wanted her to leave, and she’d allowed him to catch her and kiss her and carry her back to his bed. The memory heated her body as surely as it froze her soul. How could she? How could she have done that with him?

      “Katie will be protected at all costs,” he said. “You can’t tell me that doesn’t matter to you.”

      She backed away from him. “I will not let you use me to get to my daughter.”

      “I’ll sweeten the deal. Out of the goodness of my heart, Allen retains his official title as father. You won’t have to break the news to Katie or anyone else that I’m her real father. It can be our little secret.”

      Unable to tear herself away from what she saw in his eyes, half promise and half challenge, Meg felt the solidity of the kitchen counter against her spine. “I’m listening.”

      “I can see that. But you know me, Meg. I need complete capitulation. I need to hear you tell me you’re ready and willing to hear me out.”

      It was so like him to do this, to force her to bend to his will. Meg couldn’t believe she once let this man get close enough to burn her heart. She jerked a chair out from the kitchen table and, seating herself, wrapped her hands protectively around her coffee mug. “Well?”

      He chuckled. “Before we start, how about a refill on the coffee? You look like you could use one.”

      He refreshed their mugs, and she couldn’t help but notice his hands, long-fingered and well tanned, and the image rose of how dark they had once looked on her skin. Her most intimate skin.

      She gulped the coffee, hoping to sear some sense into herself. The steaming liquid burned her tongue, her throat, burned all the way down, and still the mere sight of his hands caused the warmth to spread, the warmth and wetness that kept her immobile and ashamed. How could this be happening? How could she be physically attracted to this morally bankrupt man?

      He took the chair opposite her and reached for her hand. She refused to give it, keeping stubborn hold of her mug.

      He peeled her fingers away one by one, and she let him, God help her, she let him, for more memories sprang to life, memories of Allen doing the exact same thing once, the day she was at her most desperate, the day he asked her to marry him.

      Except Allen’s hands had been stubby, tentative and damp. And she hadn’t been gripping her mug as much as playing with it, using it as ballast, as a focal point, as she spilled her tale of woe to the boy she once knew as Al-the-pal Betz.

      And the overeager and earnest sheen of Allen’s eyes. would