The Seal's Surrender. Maureen Child

how much she had missed it. But then, she’d realized over the last couple of years that it was the small things that, once they were gone, left the biggest holes.

      Now there was no one to hold her chair out for her at a nice restaurant. No one who knew how to whistle for a cab loudly enough to gather up a regular cluster of them. No one to kill a spider in the bathroom in the middle of the night. No one to warm her feet on, or to whisper to in the movies. No one to care for, to cook for, to worry about.

      A wistful smile crossed her face. Of course, any self-respecting women’s libber would have a heart attack if she could read Jennifer’s mind. But she didn’t care. She had always considered herself pretty liberated, but when it came right down to it, she’d liked being married. She’d liked being half of a team. And sometimes she missed that feeling so much, a slow, deep ache wrapped itself around her heart.

      But then all it would take was one sweet smile from Sarah and everything was all right again. Silently, she reminded herself that she would never be alone again, not really. Not as long as she and Sarah had each other.

      And that thought made her think of the heart operation her baby needed, and tears welled up in her eyes. It didn’t seem to make a difference that the doctors all assured her that it would be a simple thing, as operations went. That though any procedure carried risks, Sarah had an excellent chance at a full and complete recovery.

      Because no matter the kind words and assurances, Sarah was her baby. Her family. And the thought of losing her was simply too much to contemplate. She couldn’t even imagine a world without her little girl in it—so she didn’t. Jennifer blinked frantically, slammed a mental door on the dark, worrisome thoughts and hurried her steps. All she wanted now was to get out of here before she could be bombarded with concerned questions.

      “There they are,” Chance muttered, bending his head close to her ear.

      Her gaze shifted to the right and she saw Grant and Emma Connelly, having what looked to be a very involved discussion with Seth. None of them looked very happy.

      Jennifer slowed down instinctively, not wanting to intrude on what was obviously a strained moment. Shaking her head, she shot a glance up at the man beside her. “It looks like they’re busy. Maybe we shouldn’t interrupt.”

      He took her upper arm in a firm, but gentle grip and gave her a smile. “We won’t interrupt them for long. Then they can go back to whatever it is that’s got them all frowning so.”

      As they approached the threesome, Jennifer over-heard Seth saying, “I just have to go and see her. I don’t want to hurt you, Mom,” he said to Emma, “but Angie Donahue is my birth mother. And I have to know why she suddenly wants to see me.” He reached for Emma’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be fine. I promise. And I’ll be back.”

      Through teary eyes, Emma glanced at Grant, who kept his gaze focused on the young man in front of him, as though, if he studied him hard enough, he’d be able to pull the thoughts from Seth’s mind. Finally, though, the elder Connelly said gruffly, “You do what you have to do, son. We’re behind you all the way. Just like always. And we’ll be here waiting for you when you come home.”

      Whatever the boy might have said in response was lost when Emma noticed Chance and Jennifer approaching. She smiled in welcome and made shooing gestures at Seth with both hands.

      “And what are you two up to?” she asked as they came closer.

      “I just wanted to say thank you, ma’am, for your hospitality,” Chance said, then added, “and to say goodbye.”

      “Goodbye?” Grant asked abruptly. “Already?”

      Jennifer’s gaze flicked from father to son and though she knew Chance probably wouldn’t be happy to hear it, she privately acknowledged just how much he looked like his biological father. But it wasn’t just their features they shared. Both of the men had an air of self-confidence about them that people naturally gravitated toward.

      It was part of the reason Grant had done so well in the business world—and why Chance would inevitably continue his rise through the ranks. No doubt one day he’d be an admiral. Men like the Connellys were born conquerors. All that differed were the prizes they sought.

      “Jennifer’s not feeling well,” Chance was saying, “so I offered to take her home.”

      “Aah…” Grant nodded thoughtfully as his gaze flicked from his son to Jennifer and back again.

      Jennifer felt her cheeks warm up at the knowing gleam in Grant’s eyes, so she spoke up quickly. “I, uh—” think fast, Jen “—have a headache,” she finished. Well, that was brilliant. But she didn’t want to go into Sarah’s medical problems now. Not at the party. “Commander Barnett was kind enough to offer me a ride.”

      “Barnett?” Grant stared at the man who was his son.

      A touchy subject, Jennifer knew. Chance quite naturally wanted to keep the name he knew. The name his mother had given him. Grant, just as naturally, wanted his sons to use his name.

      It would be interesting to see who eventually won this little tug-of-war.

      “Sir,” Chance said, holding his right hand out to his father, “thank you. It was a nice party.”

      Grant harrumphed. “You hated it.”

      “Pretty much,” Chance acknowledged.

      “Knew you would. Too much like me.”

      Chance nodded shortly. “Maybe.”

      Grant dropped one arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Emma’s the party-giver around here. Loves the hustle and bustle. She just tells me when to show up.”

      Emma gave his broad chest a playful slap, before looking at Chance. “It’s true, you know. He’d much rather be out taking over small companies or sailing, or…well, just about anything.”

      Jennifer watched as a small smile curved Chance’s lips, and to her surprise, a curl of something delightful spiraled through her in response. Oh, that probably wasn’t a good sign.

      “Then maybe we are more alike than I’d thought,” Chance allowed as Grant took his outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake.

      His father smiled. “I’ll settle for a maybe. For now.”

      “Seems fair,” Chance told him.

      “All right, then,” Emma spoke up. “Jennifer, I hope you’re feeling better tomorrow. Why don’t you take the day off?”

      “Oh, that won’t be—”

      “A day off’s not going to bring the world to an end,” her employer told her firmly. Then she shifted a look at Chance. “You drive carefully. Without Jennifer, I’d never get a thing done around here.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” Chance said, and in seconds he had Jennifer turned around and headed for the front door. They skirted the edges of the party and avoided being stopped again. Their steps clicked on the cold marble of the main staircase, then echoed as they moved into the grand entry hall on the main floor. Here, the marble gleamed and shone in the spill of late-afternoon sunshine slashing through the wide front windows. Chance left her just long enough to grab their coats, and once she was bundled up, he ushered her outside into the bite of the cold Chicago wind.

      “I’m parked just up the street,” he said. “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll go get the car?”

      “Thanks, I’d rather walk.”

      “Suit yourself,” he said smiling, then offered her his arm.

      Arms linked, they took the short flight of steps to the sidewalk below, crossed the narrow strip of lawn and turned onto Michigan Avenue.

      “I can’t believe you found a place to park around here.”

      He grinned at her and Jennifer sucked in a breath. That really was a devastating