Sins of the Flesh. Fern Michaels

      A CALL FOR HELP

      “Mickey, what is it?” Daniel shouted. “I can hardly hear you. Take who? Are you all right?” Jesus Christ, of course she wasn’t all right! Germany had invaded France.

      The telephone stabilized, and he heard Mickey’s remembered voice clearly. “You must get Philippe safely to his father.”

      Daniel’s eyes grew wild when he realized the line had gone dead. Desperately he jiggled the hook and tried dialing the operator. But it was no use. He stomped around the room trying to make sense of the phone call. Mickey, after all these years. Memories flooded his brain. She needed him; she wanted him in France. Him and not Reuben. Why? And who the hell was Philippe? “Take Philippe to his father,” she’d said. Great. But who was Philippe’s father?

      Books by Fern Michaels:

      Sins of the Flesh

      Sins of Omission

      Return to Sender

      Mr. and Miss Anonymous

      Up Close and Personal

      Fool Me Once

      Picture Perfect

      About Face

      The Future Scrolls

      Kentucky Sunrise

      Kentucky Heat

      Kentucky Rich

      Plain Jane

      Charming Lily

      What You Wish For

      The Guest List

      Listen to Your Heart

      Celebration

      Yesterday

      Finders Keepers

      Annie’s Rainbow

      Sara’s Song

      Vegas Sunrise

      Vegas Heat

      Vegas Rich

      Whitefire

      Wish List

      Dear Emily

      The Godmothers Series

      Exclusive

      The Scoop

      The Sisterhood Novels

      Game Over

      Deadly Deals

      Vanishing Act

      Razor Sharp

      Under the Radar

      Final Justice

      Collateral Damage

      Fast Track

      Hokus Pokus

      Hide and Seek

      Free Fall

      Lethal Justice

      Sweet Revenge

      The Jury

      Vendetta

      Payback

      Weekend Warriors

      Anthologies

      Snow Angels

      Silver Bells

      Comfort and Joy

      Sugar and Spice

      Let It Snow

      A Gift of Joy

      Five Golden Rings

      Deck the Halls

      Jingle All the Way

      SINS OF THE FLESH

      FERN MICHAELS

      ZEBRA BOOKS

      KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      This book is dedicated to the many wonderful people

       who have touched and enriched my life.

      F.M.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Chapter Thirty-One

      Chapter Thirty-Two

      Chapter Thirty-Three

      Chapter Thirty-Four

      Chapter Thirty-Five

      Chapter Thirty-Six

      Chapter Thirty-Seven

      Chapter Thirty-Eight

      Chapter Thirty-Nine

      Chapter Forty

      Chapter Forty-One

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      Paris, France, 1941

      Marchioness Michelene Fonsard slipped her dusty old spectacles over the bridge of her nose. She rarely wore the wire-rimmed glasses because she felt they made her look like an owl. Now she wished that she’d kept them clean and polished, for if ever there was a time for good eyesight, this was it. But at least they would serve her immediate purpose of hiding her fear from her son, Philippe, and her best friend, Yvette.

      Philippe watched as his mother swiped at her glasses as she peered through the lacy curtains of the Paris town house. He knew what lay beyond the window: the German Gestapo marching up and down the street, tacking occupancy notices on all the doors. His eyes slid to the thick packet of papers and the worn knapsacks in the center of the foyer table. He hated the sounds of the stomping boots, but what he hated even more was the sight of his mother’s political friends licking those same stomping boots. Thank God she’d had the good sense to secure their travel warrants before the Germans showed their true colors.

      The lace curtain slipped back into place. “Now,” she whispered, “wait for me by the back door. I must try one more time to reach…stay with him, Yvette.” Mickey sprinted up the long flight of stairs and snatched the phone