The Pregnant Heiress. Eileen Wilks

is protective of her.”

      “Funny. I didn’t get the impression that Kane disapproves of you. Maybe you’re having trouble warming up to him and Gabrielle because you’re jealous of their relationship with Miranda.”

      “I don’t know Miranda well enough to be jealous of her. Besides, jealousy is a very destructive emotion.”

      “I’d call it a very human emotion. If you don’t know Miranda well, that’s because you never had the chance, while Kane and Gabrielle had her all these years. Stands to reason that you’d be jealous of that.”

      “Has anyone ever told you that you are a very annoying man?”

      “Once or twice.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to see you so we could argue about family relationships, though. I’ve checked out that boyfriend of yours, and—”

      “You’ve what?” Annoyance boiled over into temper.

      “Checked out Steven Shaw. He’s bad news.”

      “Tell me something I don’t know! What right did you have to go digging around in my personal life?”

      “I’m a P.I. If I waited until people gave me permission to dig around, I wouldn’t get much work done.”

      “And were you working?” she demanded. “I thought your job ended when you found me!”

      “I guess it did, technically. But I got a call a few days ago from a man named Mathers. He said he’d heard I was looking for you. Pretended he had information for me, while he tried to pump me for information.”

      The blood drained from her head. “Richard Mathers is Steven’s friend,” she whispered.

      “That’s what I discovered when I checked him out. And that’s why I decided to find out more about your old boyfriend.”

      “Former fiancé,” she corrected absently. Had Flynn’s meddling tipped Steven off?

      “Whatever.” He shook his head. “I should have gone with my itch to start with. Loose ends have a way of snapping back on a man.”

      “What did you tell Richard?”

      “Not a damned thing. You think I’m an idiot, or just unscrupulous?”

      “Are you sure? Steven used to say that people don’t realize how much they’re giving away once he gets them talking. He’s…very good at that sort of thing.”

      His voice turned dry. “I’m not bad at it myself, so I recognize the tricks when someone tries to play them on me. Besides, it wasn’t your boyfriend I talked to. It was his buddy, and Mathers isn’t all that good.”

      Her head was spinning with possibilities, each more frightening than the last. “Stop calling Steven my boyfriend. He never was, not really—”

      “That baby didn’t get started all by itself.”

      “You know, when you lift one eyebrow that way, your whole face gets sarcastic. You don’t even have to change your voice. It’s very annoying. What I meant was that I object to the word ‘boyfriend.’ It’s so silly and juvenile. Steven and I were engaged.”

      “You do know how to pick ’em, don’t you?”

      How could she have entertained even one fleeting fantasy about this man? “I think I’ll go talk to someone else for awhile. Someone who will make more of an effort not to insult me.”

      “Ah—sorry. I didn’t mean to—hey, don’t walk off. I need to ask you a couple of questions.” He wrapped one big hand around her arm.

      She jerked her arm away. “I don’t like being grabbed.”

      “Okay, okay. Is Shaw likely to trash my office looking for my case file on you? How fixated is he?”

      “I…I don’t know.” It was a frightening thought. Would Steven be so determined to find her that he would break into Flynn’s office to learn where she was? “He might.”

      “Hmm.” His eyes looked very green, very sharp. “Well, I’ll make sure he can’t learn anything from me, even if he is stupid enough to search my office. Since you’re staying with your mother, your name shouldn’t be out where he can find it, like on utility bills. Have you used your social security number at all?”

      She shook her head. “Steven used to talk to me about how he tracked people down, so I know better than to do that.” She tried for a smile, but it wobbled. “Which has made finding a job rather difficult.”

      “A job?” He drew those thick eyebrows together. “Why in the hell would you be looking for a job? You’re seven months’ pregnant.”

      “You do have a talent for stating the obvious.”

      “You don’t need money. Miranda is more than willing to take care of you, and the Lord knows she can afford it.”

      “I don’t want or need to be taken care of! Good grief, I’ve been on my own since I turned eighteen.” Before that, really, but that’s when she legally took custody of herself.

      “Yeah, but you’re broke, out of work and unable to even look for a job because of your psycho boyfriend. You’ve got a baby to think of. I’d say you could use a little help.”

      He made her feel small. Small and helpless and incompetent, and she couldn’t stand it. “If you call him my boyfriend again, I swear I’m going to—to—”

      “Hit me?” For some stupid, male reason, that amused him. His eyes crinkled up at the corners. “Okay. Have at it.”

      “I don’t like violence.” She turned away.

      At least he didn’t grab her this time. And she was not the least bit disappointed that he let her go so easily, either.

      Emma headed for the dining room, where an array of snacks and desserts had been laid out. At the moment, the room was empty, which was even more appealing than the chocolate raspberry cake.

      Well…almost as appealing. She picked up one of the small dessert plates and cut a nice, big slice. Then she stood there and scowled at the piece of cake she’d slid onto her plate.

      How dare Flynn Sinclair imply that she couldn’t take care of herself? She’d been on her own for years and years. Maybe the mess with Steven had changed things some. Maybe she had to accept a little help right now. Nothing had changed permanently, she assured herself as she loaded her fork with chocolate cake dripping with raspberry sauce.

      Steven would give up eventually. She’d get a job and a place of her own, maybe even here in San Antonio. She’d have her baby, and…

      And then she wouldn’t really be on her own anymore, would she?

      Emma smiled and rubbed her tummy. Anita, or maybe Adam, was turning somersaults. No, she wouldn’t be on her own anymore. She and her baby would be on their own—together.

      It was a lovely thought.

      She took a big, gooey bite. The cake was wonderful. And she was going to do just fine. Steven couldn’t find her here. Good as he was, he wasn’t Superman or 007. And Flynn, aggravating as he might be, was no fool. He’d make sure there was nothing in his office that gave her whereabouts away. Just in case.

      “Emma,” a woman said from behind her. “Emma Fortune?”

      Her name was not Fortune. It was Michaels. Michaels was a perfectly good name, even if it had come from some list kept by a social worker. But whoever was calling her no doubt meant well, so she mustered a smile as she turned, plate in hand.

      A flash went off in her face. “What the—”

      “How does it feel to get rich overnight?” that voice asked. “What was your first thought when you found out you were a Fortune?”

      She blinked,