Jane said nothing. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she closed her lids tightly.
“Now I know why. It’s his, isn’t it?”
Jane held the toddler closer. “No.”
“She has black hair, almost as black as his. Her skin isn’t dark, but it’s not as fair as yours. And her eyes are not blue and not gray, but somewhere in between. But you know what the giveaway is? Her cheekbones. High, wide—like his. How old is she? Let me think—thirteen months?” Suddenly his face went hard. “That bastard!”
Jane felt the panic. “Please! Please, Jon, if you care at all—you mustn’t tell him!”
Lindley stared. “He doesn’t know.”
“If he finds out he’ll take her away from me, I know he will!”
Lindley said nothing, not moving a muscle.
Jane put Nicole down, wiping her eyes, but the tears kept coming. “Please, Jon, he has Chad, and —I love Nicole. Please don’t tell him. I’m so afraid. I won’t have a chance if he knows, even if I run away to India. Please.” She sobbed, her control breaking.
Lindley went to her and swept her into his arms. She wept upon his shirt front, and he held her, stroking the hair at the nape of her neck. “Don’t cry, Jane, please. I won’t say a word. Shh.”
Jane clung to him, shaking. She lifted her tear-stained face. “Promise me?”
Lindley felt the swift stabbing of doubt, and Jane saw it. Her face crumbled. Lindley groaned, hugging her harder, burying his face on the top of her hair. “I promise,” he said harshly, knowing he would regret it.
And then he forgot about regrets. Jane was soft in his arms. Her breasts were crushed against his chest. She smelled of lilies. Her hair was silk. Not for the first time, he was assailed with desire, the heat building rapidly in his loins. “Jane,” he said harshly. He should move away, yet he could not.
“You are so good.” She sniffed, her face buried in his shirt. “So good, so kind.”
“Damn kindness,” Lindley said. He tipped her chin up and kissed her, hard.
Jane froze. Lindley’s mouth moved voraciously over hers, testing, tasting, demanding. When he prodded her lips with his tongue, she opened slightly, enough for him to thrust in. He realized through a hot-red fog that she was not responding, just allowing him to kiss her. He was so thick against her belly he wanted to explode. Somehow he pushed himself away from her. He gave her his back to regain control.
When he turned again Jane was watching him, a squirming Nicole protectively cradled in her arms.
“I’m sorry,” Lindley said. “But you know I want you, Jane.”
“I thought we were friends,” Jane said softly.
“We’re friends, but I want more.”
“I can’t give you more.”
“Because of him?”
Jane shook her head. “No. Because I don’t love you.”
“Do you love him?”
She didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Lindley shoved his hands in his pockets. “I suppose that makes me feel a bit better.”
“Jon.” She came to him and touched his cheek. “I need your friendship. I’ve come to count on it. Don’t—don’t walk away, please, not now.” Her voice was tight and high.
“God, Jane, I wouldn’t!” He touched her hair, and felt his need again. “But I’m a man, Jane, and I won’t lie to you anymore. Do I have a chance?”
“What do you want?” she asked sadly. “A tumble? A mistress? I know you don’t want me as your wife.”
He felt ashamed, and reddened.
