Page 20 of Touch Me

He picked up the phone, and was just about to call her whenhe heard a soft tap at his office door.

He considered ignoring it, then sharply chastised himself.He wasn’t going to let his own paranoia—hopefully it was paranoia—interferewith work. “Come in.”

A second later the door swung open, and Moira’s smiling facegreeted him, framed by dark, curly hair so unlike his own. “Hey big brother.What’s up?”

His grin was automatic and felt pretty damn good. He hadn’tseen her for over a month, and considering his current mood, she was a welcomeintrusion. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Like you’re sitting behind your desk, feeling all giddy andhappy that your little sister is here.”

“You know me so well, you’d think we were related.”

“Oh, please.” She waved a dismissive hand. “You aren’tnearly pretty enough to share genes with me.”

“Watch it, kid,” he said as he came around the desk to giveher a hug, then stepped back and looked her up and down. She’d been a surpriseto his parents, and his father had died in the line of duty when she was onlyeight. Ryan had always felt half-father, half-big brother to her. And she knewit well.

Now, she rolled her eyes at his critical appraisal. “I’mfine.”

“Really? Because—”

She shook her head and held up a hand at the same time. “I’mmaking the right decision. Advertising isn’t for me.”

“Then what is?” She’d recently dropped the bomb that she’dquit her job at a major ad agency.

“I don’t know. But I haven’t enjoyed anything that I’ve donesince I got out of school. It’s all office politics, with maybe ten percentcreative.”

“Maybe you should try a smaller firm.”

She cocked her head. “I already told you what I want to try.But that’s not why I’m here.”

For the first time, he caught a serious note in her voice.“Then why are you here?”

Her shoulders rose and fell. “Moral support, dummy. But youlook like you’re doing fine, which makes me feel a hell of a lot better,because I was expecting big drama. Well, not expecting—I knew it all had to bebullshit—but I figured you’d still be…” She made an exploding motion with herhands.

“Moira, what the hell are you talking about?”

She took a step back, looking like she wanted to slap herown face. “Shit.”

“Moira.” His voice was low. Flat. “Tell me what the fuck isgoing on.”

Her teeth grazed her lower lip. “You really haven’t seen?”

“Since I don’t know what we’re talking about, I can’t tellyou whether I’ve seen it or not.”

“You really should have someone monitoring social media. Somuch stuff is revealed there, and you guys are in the security business.”

“Dammit, Moira…”

She sighed, then reached into the back pocket of her jeans.She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and passed it to him.

He took it…and his entire body turned to ice when he saw thepaparazzi photo of Jamie walking out of the Women’s Haven Reproductive Clinic,her head down, her arms wrapped around herself as she hurried down thehedge-lined sidewalk.

Innocent enough if it was just the photo. But it was theheadline blaring in a neon font that really kicked him in the gut: Preggers!Actress Jamie Archer confirmed pregnant!! But is she still?

There was a link, of course, and he followed it to anarticle—if that’s what you could call the kind of tripe that celebrity chaserspedaled. The “article” reported that the pregnancy was confirmed by an “unnamedsource” at the clinic, and that abortion was discussed.

His stomach twisted, but he kept reading as—in some warpedfacsimile of journalism—it went on to report that she was married to him, thathe was the head of Stark Security, a prestigious private security companyfounded by billionaire Damien Stark, and that Stark’s wife—Nikki—had beenJamie’s closest friend since childhood.

He put the phone face down on his desk. “This isn’t...” buthe couldn’t finish the sentence, because he didn’t know what it wasn’t.