Her Boss's Baby. Cathleen Galitz

her naiveté in assuming the wine had been tampered with at the factory, Jonas assured her, “Just to be safe, let’s pull all remaining cases from the showroom floor. I’ve insisted that the police test the bottle itself. Seeing how I was eager to make a good first impression, I splurged and bought a big bottle, more than could fit into the antique cut-glass decanter that Ryan poured it into.”

      “Even if it tests positive,” Tara declared implacably, “I don’t see how they can possibly tie the crime to you. It isn’t like you were the only guest at the reunion.”

      Her outrage was gratifying. In a dark secret part of his heart, Jonas had been bracing himself for the possibility that she might jump to the same conclusion the police had: that he was guilty of attempted murder. Not only was he personally tied to the murder weapon, Sheriff Grayhawk had been quick to point out how easy it would have been for Jonas, as an international importer, to illegally obtain the digitalis without a prescription from an overseas supplier. All things considered, even his high-priced lawyer admitted that the outlook for Jonas wasn’t bright.

      It would have killed him to have spied either fear or reproach in his assistant’s big brown eyes. Though he knew he was far from a knight in shining armor, that Tara held him in such openly high regard made Jonas want to be a better man. Maybe he wasn’t worthy of being up on that pedestal where Tara had put him, but he wasn’t ready to relinquish the position just yet.

      He was quick to agree with her assessment of the situation. “Of course you’re right. What with Storm Pearce, one of the other two lost heirs, in addition to Uncle Ryan and Aunt Miranda, there had to be enough Fortune cousins and in-laws there to populate at least half of this dusty little town.”

      “Surely your uncle realizes that anyone could have—”

      “Ryan isn’t in the position to do much clear thinking right now. He’s still in the hospital, deathly ill. As I understand it, he’s not out of the woods yet.”

      That particular bombshell lay between them as yet unexploded. If Ryan Fortune were to actually die, Jonas was certain to be charged with his murder. In a state renowned for putting men to death as an example to others, his odds were not good for anything lighter than a life sentence if a jury actually found him guilty by a preponderance of evidence, circumstantial or not.

      Things were definitely more serious than Tara had suspected when she had packed up and headed to Texas. She had been under the impression that this was all some sort of gigantic mistake that could easily be cleared up with a little time, logic and detective work.

      “But what reason could you possibly have for wanting to kill your uncle?” she demanded to know as if already playing out the courtroom scene in her head.

      “Besides the possibility of inheriting millions?” Jonas supplied with a twisted self-deprecating grin. “According to Sheriff Grayhawk, revenge is always a viable incentive. He’s well aware that I’ve never held my real father in much esteem. He seems to think that animosity could carry over to his brother, my uncle Ryan. As much as I hate to admit it, any qualified psychiatrist could have a field day analyzing my motives.”

      Tara’s head was swimming. She was glad she wasn’t drinking anything stronger than ginger ale. A person needed all her faculties to piece this hodgepodge together. She eyed Jonas’s drink suspiciously. “You don’t think anyone would tamper with our drinks, do you?”

      “I’ve considered the possibility. Though I wouldn’t put it past anyone in Red Rock to try and do me in while I’m holed up here, I think we’re safe as long as we check to make sure the containers are properly sealed.”

      The mere suggestion that Jonas might not get out of town alive sent a shiver up Tara’s spine.

      “I’d certainly understand if you didn’t feel like sticking around,” Jonas said, reading the goose bumps on her arms.

      “Just try to get rid of me,” she quipped with false brightness.

      Nothing short of dynamite was going to blast her away from this man’s side in his time of need. If anything happened to Jonas, she didn’t know how she could continue getting up in the mornings. Whether he knew it or not, he was the center of her universe. Rather than dwelling on any pessimistic possibilities, Tara decided to approach this particular predicament as she did every other problem in her life—one methodical step at a time.

      Setting her drink down, she signaled that break time was over. She was ready to get back to work.

      “As soon as the computer arrives, we’ll get online and catch up on correspondence and paperwork. Then we’ll set about figuring out who the real criminal in your loving family is and decide how best to go about clearing your name.”

      The tired smile Jonas gave her was tinged with bitterness. “Goodfellow may be a bastard’s name passed down illegitimately, but after all that’s happened, I have to admit that I prefer it to the one that’s brought me nothing but mis-Fortune since I set foot in Texas.”

      Three

      Just watching Tara Summers at work was enough to make most people tired. Jonas likened it to studying the mighty ant in action. Seemingly there was no task too big for her to tackle. So when his assistant calmly announced that she had plans to catch the real criminal and clear his name, Jonas was tempted to call the local law-enforcement agencies and put them on alert.

      He placed a hand on her shoulder, foolishly hoping the gesture alone would somehow be enough to stop her. “Listen, Tara, I don’t want you doing anything stupid on my behalf. I’d never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you. As flawed as the system may be, let’s put our trust in it and allow the police to do their job. The last thing I need or want is for you to go risking your pretty little neck for me.”

      Tara felt a tingle on her shoulder where his hand rested. The touch seared her, burning through layers of clothing. Though the use of the word pretty was flattering, the statement made her feel like a silly schoolgirl.

      “What do I have to do to get you to stop bossing me around like I’m some helpless child?” she asked in exasperation.

      Jonas’s eyes darkened in response. He’d been having a heck of a time seeing her as an ingenue for quite some time. That Tara insisted he abandon his only shield against her was as unnerving as the way his body reacted whenever she was near.

      “I never meant to imply that you’re childish,” he replied in a steady tone.

      Far from it! he thought. If only you knew how hard it’s been for me to refrain from acting on the way I see you.

      “It’s just that I worry about you, and I don’t like feeling that you think I’m incapable of taking care of my own problems.”

      Since that put matters into a completely different light, one that cast Jonas as a man needing to see himself as strong and capable, Tara held her tongue. Being wise beyond her years, she saw no reason to antagonize him further. Besides, she’d do exactly what she wanted to do, anyway.

      Within hours, boxes started arriving. In no time at all they had the makings of a temporary office. Soon the main computer was up and running, paperwork was sorted into piles according to priority, and the temp Tara had hired to run the San Francisco office reported that everything there was going relatively smoothly. Feeling underfoot, Jonas lamented that he was going to have to cancel the upcoming buying trip overseas to which he had been so looking forward.

      While much of his business was conducted over the Internet, he still enjoyed periodic forays into dangerous territories. Exposure to infectious diseases and sometimes hostile gunfire were part of the allure. His adventurous lifestyle had served him well during the time he’d been forced to wait in jail for Tara’s arrival. As much as he despised his questionable companions, Jonas found them far less formidable than the chieftain of a tribe of headhunters with whom he’d once shared a meal. Of course, the chieftain had been far more honorable than the scumbags who had inhabited the cells next to his.

      Tara knew full well that Jonas found the