His Secret Baby. Marie Ferrarella

if something should happen to me, I want to make sure that Brooklyn’s taken care of.” He’d almost included her in the statement, but his gut told him that she would balk at that. He had more of a chance of her going along with this if she thought only the baby was named as a beneficiary.

      Not that she seemed exactly thrilled with this revised version, either.

      The expression that came over her face was like a dark storm rolling over the prairie, swallowing the terrain whole.

      “What’s the matter?” he prodded. “I’m just doing the responsible thing,” he added when Eve didn’t answer his question.

      It hit her then. She knew why he was doing this. If he had really become a responsible person, he would have abandoned the life that had initially caused their separation.

      “You’re still involved, aren’t you?” The evenly worded accusation was the only conclusion she could draw. Men his age didn’t ordinarily think about death—unless they dealt with people who could make that sort of thing a reality. “In the drug world,” she emphasized when he raised his eyebrows quizzically. She wasn’t taken in by his act. “You didn’t quit dealing,” she cried angrily. “You lied to me,” she accused, lightning all but flashing from her eyes. How stupid could she have been, believing him when he’d told her dealing was all in his past and he was here for a fresh start without the old ties.

      Lies had always come easily to him. He considered them a necessary defense mechanism that he had to use in order to remain alive. What was lying but another form of pretense? Actors “lied” all the time when they assumed a role, pretending to be someone else on the screen or on the stage.

      He was merely being a good, convincing actor, that’s all.

      But lying to this woman who had borne his child, who had managed to turn his world upside down, that was something else again. For reasons he didn’t have time to fully explore, he found it difficult to continue deceiving her.

      However, he had no choice. Far more people were involved than just him. Consequently, it wasn’t entirely his secret to share.

      So he twisted around her words. “Are you going to stand there and tell me that everyone who has a life insurance policy is a drug dealer?”

      “No, but—”

      “But I am, is that it?” His voice was low, quietly echoing barely controlled anger. Adam borrowed a few facts from his life, augmenting them to suit the occasion. “I originally took out this policy so that if anything happened to me, Mona, my kid sister, would be able to take care of herself.” Mentioning his sister, even in passing, brought a wave of irate sadness to him. “Mona was never much good at hanging on to a job. I just wanted to be sure she’d be okay.”

      Then why had he given this to her for Brooklyn? She didn’t have to open the envelope to know that he had obviously changed the designated beneficiary. “Where is your sister now?” she asked. An uneasy feeling slipped over her the moment the words were out of her mouth.

      She saw his jaw clench. “She died.”

      “Oh.” Sympathy flooded her. She knew what it was like to lose someone. More than one someone. “I’m sorry.” Eve bit her lower lip. “What did your sister die of?”

      “It doesn’t matter. She’s dead,” he said with such dark finality, Eve felt as if she’d literally been pushed away. He began opening the top drawers that ran along the underside of the counter, looking for utensils. “I changed the beneficiary. The policy’s in trust for Brooklyn until she turns twenty-one.” He spared her a glance. “Until then, if the occasion arises, you manage it for her.” He nodded toward the envelope. “Put that in a safe place.”

      She stared at the envelope, then shook her head as she pushed it toward him on the counter. “I don’t want it.”

      “It isn’t for you,” he pointed out. “It’s for Brooklyn.”

      He watched as she squared her shoulders like a soldier being challenged. “I can take care of my daughter—”

      His eyes held hers. “Our daughter,” Adam corrected pointedly.

      She just couldn’t figure him out, not on any level. Here was an intelligent man who could have been anything, yet he had sunk down to the level of a drug dealer. Was perhaps still at the level.

      “Most men would fight this tooth and nail,” she said quietly. “Or at least insist on a paternity test, yet you’re willing to accept that you’re Brooklyn’s father without any tangible proof.”

      Adam saw nothing wrong with that. Finally finding the utensils, he took out two knives and two forks, placing them on the counter. He pushed the envelope back in her direction.

      “So?”

      “So why aren’t you asking for proof? A DNA test? Why are you taking just my word for it?”

      “Maybe because you didn’t ask me for anything.” And then he shrugged. “The timing just works out.” His eyes dipped down to her stomach. Even now, she seemed to be well on her way to regaining her figure—which, as he recalled, had been drop-dead gorgeous. “Besides,” he raised his eyes to her face, eyeing her knowingly, “you’re not the kind to have casual sex.”

      “How do you know that?” she challenged. Granted she’d been a virgin when they’d made love, but they hadn’t been together long enough for him to have drawn this kind of a hard and fast conclusion. “What makes you think you know so much about me?”

      His smile went straight to her gut.

      Adam shrugged carelessly. “I just know. Call it a gut feeling.”

      It was more than just his gut that was involved, although that had been the initial proponent. When he’d received that e-mail that had sent him looking for Eve, he’d gotten Spenser at the department to do a little research for him. The reformed computer hacker put together a file that contained a great deal of information on the woman standing beside him.

      Adam handed her a plate. “Now stop being stubborn and have something to eat before—”

      As if on cue, the baby monitor on the counter came to life. Something that sounded very close to mewling filled the room.

      “The baby cries?” she guessed, ending his sentence for him.

      He nodded, then murmured, “Too late.” He glanced over his shoulder, although there was no way he could see Brooklyn’s room. “Eat,” he told Eve, indicating her plate and the selection of entrees. “If you tell me which way to her bedroom, I’ll go see what Her Majesty wants.”

      The aroma of the still-hot food caused her stomach to contract and growl. The spread before her proved to be too much of a temptation.

      “It’s upstairs,” she told him. “Second room on your right.”

      She watched as Adam walked out of the kitchen. With all her heart, she wished she could banish her lingering suspicions about him. If it weren’t for her nagging doubts, she would admit he was damn near perfect in this new paternal role.

      He was rising to the occasion far better than she was, Eve thought, helping herself to a corn-husk-wrapped tamale. Though she dearly loved this brand-new addition in her life, a part of her was still afraid she was going to wind up being a very poor mother.

      When Adam didn’t return within a few minutes, carrying a hungry baby in his arms, Eve began to wonder what was taking him so long. Only one way to find out. Bracing her hands on the counter, she slid off the stool and went to investigate.

      Although she wanted to hurry up the stairs, she forced herself to take it slow. It annoyed her no end that she still felt pretty weak. The last nap the baby had taken, she’d taken one, too. Filled with admiration for mothers who continued to be powerhouses, Eve couldn’t wait to be her old self again.

      Walking into the baby’s room, she saw that Adam