“You’re Pregnant With My Child. I Think That Means There’s Something Going On Between Us.” Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Epilogue Copyright

“You’re Pregnant With My Child. I Think That Means There’s Something Going On Between Us.”

Hank cupped Susan’s face between his two big hands. “I’ve tried to deny the attraction. But trying to ignore it isn’t going to make it go away.”

“Please.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “Please don’t do this.”

He kissed her forehead. “Do you think I want to feel this way?” He kissed one of her cheeks and then the other. She trembled from head to toe. “Do you think it’s easy for me to admit that I want my best friend’s widow?”

Susan opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a choked gasp. Tears spilled from her eyes, ran down her face and onto his hands.

“You want me, too, don’t you, honey?” He urged her face upward until she met his gaze. “You’re as hungry for me as I am for you.”

Dear Reader,

April brings showers, and this month Silhouette Desire wants to shower you with six new, passionate love stories!

Cait London’s popular Blaylock family returns in our April MAN OF THE MONTH title, Blaylock’s Bride. Honorable Roman Blaylock grapples with a secret that puts him in a conflict between confiding in the woman he loves and fulfilling a last wish.

The provocative series FORTUNE’S CHILDREN: THE BRIDES continues with Leanne Banks’s The Secretary and the Millionaire, when a wealthy CEO turns to his assistant for help in caring for his little girl.

Beverly Barton’s next tale in her 3 BABIES FOR 3 BROTHERS miniseries, His Woman, His Child shows a rugged heartbreaker transformed by the heroine’s pregnancy. Powerful sheikhs abound in Sheikh’s Ransom, the Desire debut title of Alexandra Sellers’s dramatic new series, SONS OF THE DESERT. A marine gets a second chance at love in Colonel Daddy, continuing

Maureen Child’s popular series BACHELOR BATTALION. And in Christy Lockhart’s Let’s Have a Baby!, our BACHELORS AND BABIES selection, the hero must dissuade the heroine from going to a sperm bank and convince her to let him father her child—the old-fashioned way!

Allow Silhouette Desire to give you the ultimate indulgence—all six of these fabulous April romance books!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

His Woman, His Child

Beverly Barton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BEVERLY BARTON

has been in love with romance since her grandfather gave her an illustrated copy of Beauty and the Beast. An avid reader since childhood, she began writing at the age of nine and wrote short stories, poetry, plays and novels throughout high school and college. After marriage to her own “hero” and the births of her daughter and son, she chose to be a full-time homemaker, a.k.a. wife, mother, friend and volunteer.

When she returned to writing, she joined Romance Writers of America and helped found the Heart of Dixie chapter in Alabama. Since the release of her first Silhouette book in 1990, she has won the GRW Maggie Award and the National Readers’ Choice Award and has been a RITA Award finalist. Beverly considers writing romance books a real labor of love. Her stories come straight from the heart, and she hopes that all the strong and varied emotions she invests in her books will be felt by everyone who reads them.

In loving memory of Christine Byrd Hardin,

who had a passion for books.

And to precious little Hannah Christine Files,

named in honor of her great-grandmother.

One

I’m pregnant.

Hank could hear Susan’s voice inside his head, telling him the one thing he hadn’t wanted to hear. He’d been so sure the first try hadn’t been successful, that fate wouldn’t be so cruel.

When he’d arrived at the funeral home last night and gone straight to her—his best friend’s widow—she had taken his hand and squeezed it firmly.

“Thank you for coming, Hank,” she had said, her voice quivering. “Lowell loved you like a brother.”

Pain had sliced through him as if he’d been stabbed with a dull blade. But he hadn’t flinched. Holding Susan’s hand securely in his, he’d wished he could think of something—anything—to say that would lessen her sorrow. But there were no words to soothe the agony of a woman who had just lost her husband.

“Lowell was the finest man I’ve ever known,” he had told her. “I’d have done anything for him.”

“Yes, I know.”

Their gazes locked and held, the unspoken message a secret each held within their hearts. They had both loved Lowell. They had both wanted to give him the one thing he’d longed for and couldn’t have.

With her hand still in his, Susan had led Hank aside, leaned close and whispered in his ear, “I’m pregnant. We just found out two days ago. Lowell tried several times to call you.”

Hank had felt his muscles freeze, his heartbeat accelerate. His mind had screamed, No. A thousand times no. Not now. Not when Lowell wouldn’t be around to take care of Susan and the child.

“I was away on an assignment,” he’d told her.

Before he could comment further on her announcement, Crooked Oak’s mayor had grasped his shoulder. “Damn shame about Lowell. A finer man never lived. We’re all going to miss him.”

Now, as he stood with Lowell’s family and friends at the grave site, the October wind whipped through the nearby trees, flapping the partially bare branches and loosening the dying foliage. The colorful autumn leaves flew across the cemetery like birds in flight. Thunder boomed in the distance. A fine mist of rain moistened the canopy under which those close to the deceased had congregated to say their final farewells.

Numbness had encased Hank ever since his brother Caleb had phoned to tell him that Lowell Redman had been murdered—killed in the line of duty as sheriff of Marshall County. Although he hadn’t lived in Crooked Oak since he’d graduated from high school, Hank had remained best friends with Lowell. He’d even been best man at Lowell’s wedding to Susan two years ago.

Susan. Sweet, quiet, gentle Susan. He’d thought she and Lowell a perfect match. Both good people.

She had asked him to sit with her today, but he had declined, using the excuse that the other ladies attending should be the ones seated. He stood across from her, on the opposite side of Lowell’s casket. She sat stiffly, her face pale, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. Dear God, the pain she must be suffering!

Every instinct within him wanted to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and hold her. Comfort her. Assure her that she wasn’t alone. To promise that he would take care of her.

But how would she react if he touched her? More importantly, how would he react? Knowing she was pregnant brought all his primeval, protective instincts to the surface.

He’d known Susan Williams Redman all her life. She’d been one of his sister Tallie’s best friends. But back then he’d never thought of her as anything but a quiet, shy, plain little girl who used to stare at him with big blue eyes. Then he’d seen her at Tallie’s wedding several years ago and realized that the plain little girl had grown into a lovely young woman. If she hadn’t been dating Lowell at the time, he would have asked her for a date while he was visiting Crooked Oak.

The next time he’d seen her was at her and Lowell’s wedding—and he had envied his best friend. Not that he’d wanted to get caught in the marriage trap—he certainly wasn’t the marrying kind. And not that he wanted to trade lives with Lowell. He had only wanted happiness for Lowell and his new bride.

The minister ended the graveside service with a prayer. The rain grew heavier and more intense as the wind increased, blowing the moisture inside the canopy enclosure. He watched as his sister Tallie helped Susan to her feet and Caleb’s wife, Sheila, held an umbrella over her as they led her toward the governor’s limousine.

Grateful that Susan wasn’t alone—that his family had rallied around her—Hank stayed at the graveside until the crowd cleared. The attendants from the funeral home waited while he stood over Lowell’s casket, placed his hand on the cold, damp metal and made a silent vow. I promise you that I’ll take care of Susan and the baby.

As he walked away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw his younger brother Caleb.

“Are you all right?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah.”

The two men walked side by side toward Hank’s rental car. The rain soaked them, plastering their hair to their heads.

“I’ll ride with you,” Caleb said. “I think Peyt’s limo is full, with Peyt and Tallie, as well as Donna and Sheila in there with Susan.”

The brothers got into the Taurus and sat silently for several minutes before the cars in front of them began to move. Hank shifted into drive and followed the procession out of the cemetery.

“Never thought the sheriff of a quiet little hick county like ours would wind up getting himself murdered.” Caleb shook his head.

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s not much crime around here, is there? Lowell wasn’t the type who sought out danger or wanted anything more than to keep the peace.”

“Ole Lowell always reminded me of TV’s Andy Taylor without Barney.” Caleb chuckled. “God, he was a good man!”

“The best.” Hank felt a knot of emotion tighten in his chest. He had cared for Lowell Redman the way he cared about Caleb and Jake, as if he’d been another brother. They’d been friends since first grade. Hank had always been the leader, the instigator, the one daring Lowell to take risks with him. And Lowell had been the faithful follower, the accessory to their boyish pranks, the quiet, bashful boy who didn’t have an adventurous bone in his body.

“I hope they find the son of a bitch who shot him,” Caleb said. “Damn dopehead! That Carl Bates has always been a worthless piece of trash.”

“Bates can’t run and hide forever,” Hank said. “Usually guys like him wind up coming home and looking for help. We’ll get him. You can bet on that.”

Within minutes Hank pulled the Taurus up outside Susan’s house, but didn’t kill the motor.

Caleb turned to him. “Aren’t you coming in? Susan will expect you to be there. Half the town will come through those doors before nightfall. I know it would mean a lot to her if Lowell’s best friend was at her side.”

The last thing Susan probably wanted was for him to be at her side all evening, while friends and acquaintances paraded in and out to pay their condolences. She had to be as numb as he over losing Lowell and as stunned and uncertain as he about her pregnancy. But the odd thing was, he really wanted to be there with her. She had looked so fragile, so vulnerable, during the funeral. Small-boned and slender, Susan came just to his shoulder. More than once since he’d seen her last night, he had wanted to lift her into his arms, take her away from the endless horde of people trying to console her and keep her safely under his protection.

Hank killed the motor. “You’re right. I need to be with Susan.”

Her entire body was as numb as her emotions. She’d been on display for hours last night and then again today at the funeral and the graveside service. Tallie and Sheila had suggested that she lie down for a while, but Donna had been the one who had fended them off when she’d insisted on staying to meet every person who came by to share her grief. Donna was a widow herself, having lost her husband over five years ago, and she was the only one of her close friends who understood exactly what she was going through today. The last thing Susan needed right now was to be alone, lying down in the quiet, dark bedroom she had shared with Lowell.

Susan saw him the minute he entered the room. Tall, whipcord lean, with shoulders that looked five feet wide in his tan trench coat. His jet-black hair was damp, one strand curling down over his forehead. Hank Bishop. Her husband’s oldest and dearest friend. The man who had been best man at her wedding. The man she’d had a secret crush on during her teen years. The man she had fantasized about more than once when Lowell made love to her.

She shivered as guilt washed over her. She had no right to think of Hank Bishop in that way. No right whatsoever. She had loved Lowell. Who wouldn’t have? Lowell Redman had been the kindest, most gentle and loving man she’d ever known. And he had given her a good, safe and secure life as his wife. She’d been past thirty when they’d married, well past the age of expecting Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet. Besides, she knew herself well enough to know that anyone daring enough to sweep her off her feet would frighten her to death. Susan wasn’t a risk taker when it came to men and to life in general.

Lowell had been safe. Hank Bishop wasn’t.

Hank was dangerous to her. He always had been and he always would be. Just because in her secret fantasies she dreamed of being ravaged and claimed by Hank, didn’t mean she had actually wanted the man in her life.

He was walking toward her, his dark eyes seeking her out from the crowd. Her stomach quivered. Her heart fluttered. She wanted to scream at him, tell him to go away and never come back. She couldn’t bear to have him so close to her. She was afraid of leaning on him. More than anything she wanted his strong arms around her, wanted him to promise that he would take care of her and make everything all right. But no one, not even Hank, could make things right again. Her safe and secure life had been utterly and completely destroyed. The future with Lowell as her husband and father of her child had vanished like smoke in the wind. Somehow she had to find the strength to raise this child alone—this sweet little baby that Lowell had wanted so desperately.

The same moment Susan laid her hand over her abdomen in a protective gesture, she noticed Hank watching her more intently, his gaze moving downward from her face to her hand. The look in his eyes frightened her. Protective. Possessive. Predatory.

“There’s Hank,” Sheila said, slipping her arm around Susan’s waist. “Maybe he can persuade you to eat a bite and then get some rest.”

“I told you that I’m fine,” Susan said. “I wish you and Tallie would stop hovering about as if you think I might pass out at any minute.”

Leaning over, Sheila whispered in Susan’s ear, “Does Hank know you’re pregnant?”

Susan nodded solemnly. Biting down on her lip, she forced herself to stay calm, not to lash out at her friend for being concerned. “I told him last night at the funeral home.”

“Good. He should know the situation.”

“Who should know what situation?” Caleb asked as he and Hank approached.

Susan felt heat suffuse her face and prayed no one would notice, or that if they did, they wouldn’t guess the reason.

“Hank.” She cleared her throat. “Hank, you should know that you’re probably going to be offered Lowell’s job. Several people have already mentioned that they’d like to see you come home and take over the investigation into Lowell’s murder.”

“They want me to be sheriff?” Hank asked.

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “Some of the commissioners mentioned to me that they’d like to have you appointed to finish out Lowell’s term so you could bring his killer to justice. There’s about a year left on his current term. They’re hoping you can take a leave of absence from the Bureau.”

“But I don’t—”

“If you accepted the appointment, you’d be around to help look after Susan and—” Sheila said, stopping abruptly when Susan jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow.

“I don’t need anyone to look after me!” Susan realized too late that not only had she spoken sharply, but she’d practically shouted her comment. Several people within earshot turned their heads and glanced in her direction.

Afraid he would see the fear in her eyes, she looked everywhere but at Hank. “I’m sorry,” she told them. “I suppose I am tired. Maybe Sheila’s right. Perhaps I should go lie down for a while.”

She moved past Hank quickly, not sparing him even a glance. What would she do if he stayed on in Crooked Oak? He wouldn’t do that, would he? He couldn’t!

“Susan’s not herself,” Sheila said by way of explanation to the onlookers. “Y’all must know what losing Lowell has done to her.”

People nodded in agreement and quickly began talking among themselves. Commissioner Kelly threw up a hand in greeting, then waved at Hank, motioning him to join his circle.

“Here it comes,” Caleb said. “Get ready to be offered Lowell’s old job.”

“I can’t take Lowell’s job!” And I can’t take on his wife and child. “I don’t want to be sheriff of Marshall County.”

“Then you’re going to have to tell them that.” Caleb patted his brother on the back. “But I must admit that I’m surprised you aren’t willing to take a leave of absence and come back home long enough to put things right for Lowell. He left an unfinished job and a pregnant wife who’s going to need someone to lean on.”

“I didn’t realize you knew Susan was pregnant,” Hank said.

“Sheila told me this morning. But how did you know?”

“Susan told me last night at the funeral home.”

“See, she told you because she knows she’s going to need you. She’s going to need all of us to get through these next few months. Knowing you, I figured you’d think you owed it to Lowell to see his killer brought to justice and to take care of his wife and child.”

“I owe Lowell my life,” Hank admitted. “But I’m not sure that staying here in Crooked Oak is the right way to repay him.”

The brothers walked together toward Commissioner Kelly, who had been joined by two other county commissioners in a corner of the room that proudly displayed Susan’s old-maid aunt’s antique dining room suite. A feast, brought in by friends and neighbors, covered the mahogany table and desserts of every kind lined the ornately carved buffet. Dalton Kelly sliced off a bite of apple pie with his fork and lifted it to his mouth.

Rufus McGee shook hands with Hank. “Good to see you again, Hank. Just hate that it’s under these circumstances.”

After washing down the pie with a swig of black coffee, Dalton swiped his mouth with his hand, then said, “Has Caleb told you what we want to ask of you?”

“Yes, he just mentioned it,” Hank said.

“And what do you think, boy?” Rufus narrowed his eyes, staring directly at Hank. “Are you willing to take a little time off from the FBI to come home and settle things for Lowell? We’d be mighty grateful if you would.”

“Why me?” Hank asked. “I’d think y’all would be talking to Richard Holman about the job. I know Lowell trusted Deputy Holman completely and felt he was the best man he had working for him.”

“Richard’s young and doesn’t have enough experience,” Dalton said. “Besides, it’d only be for a year, just until next year’s election. You could give up a year for Lowell, couldn’t you?”

“The whole town is expecting you to come home,” Rufus said. “They’re sure you’ll want to be the one to capture Carl Bates and bring him to justice. And they’re expecting you to take care of Susan for Lowell. We know her delicate condition is suppose to be a secret, but well—” Rufus grinned “—Lowell’s chest was so swelled with pride the day they found out about the baby, he was popping buttons off his shirt. He told a few friends, and you know how word spreads around these parts.”

Hank’s stomach knotted painfully. He’d been on assignment when word reached him of Lowell’s death. When he’d checked his answering machine on a quick stop at his Alexandria apartment, he’d heard Lowell’s happy voice asking him to call him as soon as possible. No doubt Lowell had wanted to tell him about the baby.

“I’ll need some time,” Hank said. “I’ll have to go back to Washington and...I’m not sure this is the right thing to do, but—”

“It is, my boy. It is,” Dalton assured him. “Just think about what Lowell would have done if you’d been murdered in the line of duty, leaving behind your killer on the loose and a pregnant wife who needed somebody to lean on. Wouldn’t he have done everything he could have for you? He’d have put your killer behind bars. And he’d have taken care of your wife and baby.”

Hell! He was caught dead to right. The whole town knew that not only were he and Lowell best friends, but that he owed Lowell his life. When they’d been teenagers—he thirteen and Lowell fourteen—they’d gone swimming at the old abandoned rock quarry, as they had so often that summer. But he had gotten a severe cramp and would have drowned if it hadn’t been for Lowell’s quick action. The event had sealed their friendship for life, and to this day, Hank felt he owed his life to his friend.

He’d do anything for Lowell. Even now. The way he saw it, he really didn’t have any choice but to put his career on hold and return to Crooked Oak. Was a year of his life too much of a sacrifice to come home and settle his best friend’s affairs? No, of course it wasn’t. If only those affairs didn’t include Lowell’s pregnant wife!

Once this crowd cleared out, he’d have to talk to Susan—alone. Lowell’s death had placed them in an awkward situation and the last thing he wanted was to complicate his life or cause Susan any unnecessary pain.

Susan sat on the bed in the quiet, semidark bedroom that she had shared with Lowell the past two years. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to sleep in this room again, not unless she completely renovated it and bought all new furniture. Everything in the large, airy room reminded her of her husband. The smell of his spicy cologne still lingered on the bed linen. His clothes filled the left side of the closet. Their wedding photograph sat like a sentinel on the nightstand.

If only she could cry. Dear Lord in heaven, she silently pleaded, let me cry. But she was beyond crying, the pain too severe, yet tempered by the blessed numbness that cocooned her.

A shudder racked her body. Ricky gazed up at her with his big, black Boston terrier eyes, as if questioning her. She scratched his ears and whispered, “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Seeing that his mistress was paying attention to Ricky, Fred waddled across the room, hopped up onto the bed and parked his fat little bulldog body alongside Ricky. “Oh, so you’re jealous, huh?” Susan rubbed the other dog’s ears, then heard a soft, subtle purring. Resting at the foot of the bed, Lucy, a red tabby, and Ethel, a white longhair, mewed for their share of attention.

A sigh of relief escaped Susan’s lips. Relief that something remained normal and unchanged in her life. Her animals were now, as they had been all her life, a source of companionship and comfort. She loved animals and they her. She supposed that was another legacy from Aunt Alice—the old-maid great-aunt who had taken her in and raised her after her mother’s death. She’d been six when she’d come to live with Aunt Alice in this big, old Victorian house filled with priceless antiques, several spoiled cats and one feisty Boston terrier pup, Ricky’s grandmother. Susan had grown up around animals, so her job at the animal shelter was a natural career choice.

In the darkest, loneliest hours of her life, her animals were at her side. Loving her. Supporting her. Comforting her. She lifted both dogs onto her lap and hugged them tenderly. A lone tear escaped from her eye and trickled down her cheek. Then another followed. Her lungs swelled. Her chest ached. She gasped for air. Her shoulders trembled. And then the tears began in earnest. Filling her eyes. Flooding her face. Moistening her chin and neck.

Susan didn’t know how long she cried, whether it was minutes or hours. No one invaded her privacy, not even when she cried aloud as sobs racked her body.

She knew that Tallie and Sheila and Donna were taking turns guarding her bedroom door against all intruders. She was a lucky woman to have such good friends. She and Tallie and Sheila had been best buddies since childhood and then Donna had joined their inner circle several years ago.

Susan lifted her head from her hands when she heard a soft rapping on the door. “Yes?”

“It’s us,” Sheila said. “Tallie and Donna and me. May we come in?”

“Of course.” Susan wiped the moisture from her face and scooted to the edge of the bed.

Her three best friends entered the room and quickly made a semicircle around her. She offered them a tremulous smile.

“Just about everybody’s gone,” Tallie said.

“Hank and Caleb and Peyton are still here, of course,” Sheila said.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you tonight?” Tallie asked.

“No, really. I’ll be all right.” She glanced back at the big bed on which she sat. “I won’t sleep in here. I slept upstairs last night, in Aunt Alice’s old room. Being in her room comforted me. It made me feel close to her.”

“I’d like to stay.” Donna sat down beside Susan. “I can run home and pack a few things and stay with you for as long as you need me. Believe me, I know how difficult these next few months are going to be for you.”

Susan grabbed Donna’s hand and squeezed tightly. “I know you understand better than anyone. But—”

“I insist. Unlike Sheila and Tallie, I don’t have a husband and children at home.”

“Thank you.” Susan nodded. “It would be nice to have someone here for a few days. Just until—” Susan choked on the tears in her throat. “Just until I—” The dam burst again, releasing a torrent of tears.

Donna took Susan in her arms, stroking and comforting, while Sheila and Tallie hovered nearby. The three women tried valiantly not to cry, but within minutes they, too, were weeping.

“I’ll stay until you get back,” Hank told Donna Fields.

“Thanks. I really don’t think she should be alone.” Donna patted Hank on the shoulder. “She’s going to need all of her friends and Lowell’s friends to see her through this.”

Hank opened the door to Donna’s Corvette and waited until she backed out of the driveway before he returned inside the house. Before they left, his sister and sister-in-law had cleared away the tables, packed the food in the refrigerator and freezer, loaded the dishwasher and vacuumed the floors.

A hushed stillness enveloped the house, a big ginger-bread-trimmed Victorian that had been built outside of town more than ninety years ago by Susan’s great-grandparents. Their youngest daughter, Alice Williams, had inherited the place, and Miss Alice, as everyone in Crooked Oak had called her, had become the local eccentric. The old-maid schoolteacher with a hundred cats.

But actually, there had been only five cats, and Miss Alice, though a unique personality, hadn’t been wealthy enough to qualify for eccentric status. He had liked and admired Miss Alice, and because he’d been an excellent student, she had taken a special interest in him. She had been the first teacher who’d made him realize that he was intelligent and that by using that intelligence, he could escape the poverty of his life in Crooked Oak, Tennessee.

“Would you care for some coffee?” Susan asked.

Hank turned abruptly to face her. He hadn’t realized she was standing there, in the hallway. He’d thought she was still barricaded in her bedroom.

“No, thanks,” he replied.

“What about some tea? I’m going to fix myself some herbal tea.”

“I don’t like hot tea.”

“Oh. All right then.”

Damn! He suddenly realized that Susan felt as awkward as he did. The two of them alone here in her house. The house she had shared with Lowell for two years.

But they had to face facts. Lowell was dead. God, how that admission hurt him. He could not imagine a world without Lowell Redman. But no matter how much they wanted things to be different—and they both did—neither of them could undo what had happened. Not what had happened two days ago when Lowell had been ambushed by Carl Bates. And not what had happened in a doctor’s office four weeks ago when Susan had been artificially inseminated.

“We need to talk,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen.

“Yes, I suppose we do.” She filled the teakettle with water and placed it on the stove.

“I’ve been asked to take over Lowell’s job until next year’s election.”

Biting her bottom lip, Susan removed a china teacup and saucer from the cupboard, then opened a canister and retrieved a tea bag. “Are you going to accept the offer?” Her hand quivered ever so slightly as she placed the tea bag in the cup.

“Yes.” Why wouldn’t she turn around and face him? Would it be that big a problem for her to have him back in Crooked Oak for the next year? “I think I owe it to Lowell to bring in Carl Bates and see that he goes to trial. And I think Lowell would want me around to look after you while you’re pregnant.”

Tears gathered in her eyes. The teakettle whistled. As she lifted the china cup and saucer from the table, her shoulders shook and her hand trembled. The cup and saucer crashed onto the hardwood floor.

“Susan?” Hank rushed over to her, stopping her as she knelt to pick up the pieces of broken china. “Leave it. I’ll clean it up.”

She hummed with sorrow, crying in a low, mournful chant. God in heaven, what was he supposed to do? He wanted to touch her, but did he dare? He had to take her in his arms. He had to! She was falling apart right in front of him.

The moment he touched her, surrounding her slender body with his, taking her into his arms, Susan melted against him. Every nerve in his body screamed.

“It’s all right, Susie Q,” he told her, using the nickname he’d given her when she’d been a kid. “You go ahead and get it all out. I’ll be here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She clung to him. Sobbing. Trembling. Moaning. He held her as gently as he could, all his protective instincts on high and putting him on edge.

She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I’ll be all right.” She stepped out of his embrace and took a wobbly step backward. When he reached out to steady her, she moved uneasily away.

“I realize that you want to do what you can to bring Lowell’s killer to justice...” She paused, took a deep breath and then continued. “If you move back to Crooked Oak—”

“When I move back to Crooked Oak,” he corrected her.

“Yes. When you move back, I’m sure we’ll see each other from time to time during the next year. That can’t be avoided. People will expect us to...to...”

“To be friendly toward each other.”

“Yes. And I want that. I want us to be friends. Lowell would have wanted us to be... If I need you, I’ll call you. But I have friends who’ll be here for me and, most importantly, I have my baby. Having my child to think about will see me through the rough times.”

“My child.” Hank had said the words without thinking, his voice a strained whisper.

“No!” she protested. “This baby is Lowell’s child.”

“I realize you think of the child as Lowell’s, but we both know that I fathered your baby.” Hank laid his hand over her flat belly.

She froze on the spot. “The agreement was for you to donate your sperm because Lowell didn’t want a stranger to father our child.” Susan snatched Hank’s hand off her stomach. “Lowell trusted you to keep our secret, to let this baby be his completely.”

“And if Lowell had lived, I would have adhered to the terms of that agreement. But Lowell is dead. He can’t be a father to your baby.”

“Yes, he...Lowell is...” Tears streamed down her face.

Hank grasped her shoulders. “The child you’re carrying is mine. And whether you like it or not, now that Lowell is dead, it’s my responsibility to take care of you!”

Two

Lowell had been dead ten days. Ten of the worst days of her life. All their plans for the future had died with him—the happy family life that they had envisioned when their baby was born. But Lowell would never see their child—the child he had so desperately wanted. A child that he had known she wanted more than anything on earth.

When the doctors told them that it was unlikely, if not impossible, that Lowell would ever impregnate her, he had been the one to embrace the idea of artificial insemination. She had been reluctant at the thought of a stranger fathering her child, but she’d become even more reluctant when Lowell had suggested asking Hank Bishop to donate his sperm.

“Hank’s said more than once that he’s not the marrying kind,” Lowell had told her. “He doesn’t want a wife and kids.”

“What makes you think Hank would agree to—to donate his sperm so that we can have a baby?”

“Because Hank thinks he owes me for saving his life when we were kids. Besides, he’s the only man I know I’d want to be the biological father of our child. Hank’s smart, a real man’s man and the best friend I’ve ever had.”

At first she had refused to even consider Hank as the donor, but eventually Lowell had worn down her resistance. Lowell and your own foolish girlhood dreams! an inner voice taunted.

“Need any help in here, Mrs. Redman?” Deputy Nancy Steele asked as she poked her head inside the door.

“No, thanks, Nancy. I’ve got just about everything packed away.”

“Well, when you’re ready to put the boxes in your van, let me know and some of us will take them out for you.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“Sure thing.”

“Oh, Nancy?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to leave a message for Hank Bishop.”

“Certainly. We’re expecting him sometime this afternoon,” Nancy replied. “Do you want to leave a written message or a—”

“Verbal. Please tell Hank that I wish him well and that I appreciate—” Susan’s voice cracked. She appreciated what? That he was going to be in Crooked Oak for the next year? That he had promised her quite vehemently that he was going to be around to look after her and the baby? His baby! He’d let her know in no uncertain terms that, with Lowell dead, he intended to take over Lowell’s responsibilities for her and the child.

“I understand, Mrs. Redman.” Nancy looked at Susan with pity in her eyes. “But I’m sure Mr. Bishop...er, Sheriff Bishop will be stopping by your house to check on you.”

Dear God, that’s what I’m afraid of, Susan thought. No one knows that this child I’m carrying isn’t Lowell’s biological child—no one except the doctors in Nashville, Hank Bishop and Sheila. Would the townspeople believe Hank’s attention to her was nothing more than a good friend looking out for his buddy’s widow?

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right. After all, Hank was Lowell’s oldest and dearest friend. It would be only natural that he’d keep an eye on me, especially...”

“We’re all so sorry about Lowell. He was the best man I ever knew. But you have his child and that should be a comfort to you.”

“Yes, it is.” Susan almost choked on the lie. But this isn’t Lowell’s baby, she wanted to scream. Don’t you see, that’s the problem?

“I’ll go so you can finish up in here. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.” Nancy exited the office and closed the door behind her.

Susan sat in Lowell’s big, swivel desk chair and glanced around his office. No, not Lowell’s office any longer. Not after today. Appointed by the governor, Hank Bishop would be sworn in as the new Marshall County sheriff tomorrow morning.

She should have cleared out Lowell’s things days ago, but somehow she hadn’t been able to bring herself to face the task. To clean out his desk, to remove his certificates and pictures from the walls, to remove his books and magazines from the small bookshelf in the corner.

She lifted the silver frame that lay atop one of the open boxes on the desk. A smiling couple looked back at her from the photograph. Her wedding picture. Lowell and she had been very happy that day, the first day of their married life together. Lowell had loved her deeply and had been completely devoted to her. He’d been the kindest, most considerate lover, and her wedding night had been a prelude to many nights of gentle lovemaking.

Susan caressed Lowell’s image with her fingertips. “Oh, you sweet, sweet man. What am I going to do without you? You were my protector. My shield against the world. You kept me safe and secure. As long as I had you, I didn’t have to be afraid of...”

She couldn’t say it out loud. Couldn’t voice her greatest fear. But the secret she’d kept buried in her heart for so long could no longer be ignored. Lowell couldn’t save her from herself anymore. He couldn’t save her from the wild, illogical passion she’d always felt for Hank Bishop.

She clutched the picture frame in her hands, laid her forehead on the glass and wept.

A few minutes later Hank Bishop found her weeping when he opened the door to Lowell’s office. He’d gotten an early start this morning and arrived in Crooked Oak before noon. When Deputy Steele told him that Susan was clearing out Lowell’s office, he walked right in, hoping to offer his help.

He stood in the doorway and watched her as she cried. He wanted to go over and take her into his arms. Dammit, why was it that Susan Williams Redman was the only woman on earth who affected him this way? He had always liked the ladies, although he’d never been a ladies’ man like his brothers Caleb and Jake. And the ladies liked him. They had often commented on his gentlemanly treatment of them before, during and after an affair. But only his best friend’s widow brought forth all the possessive, protective, caring instincts within him.

It’s because she’s carrying your child.

Damn! He’d been a fool to agree to Lowell’s request. But he had owed Lowell. And when he’d agreed to donate his sperm for the artificial insemination, he’d never considered the possibility that Lowell wouldn’t be around to be a father to the child.

Lowell would have made any kid a great dad. The best father in the world. Unlike himself, Lowell had been raised in a normal, middle-class family and had inherited his own father’s wonderful parenting instincts. He, on the other hand, would make a lousy father. As lousy as his own had been before he died.

Hank had always known he wasn’t cut out to be a husband and father.

So, how the hell was he going to handle being a father to the child Susan was carrying? Taking responsibility for that child was the last thing he wanted—but take responsibility he would. Hank Bishop didn’t shrug off his obligations—he never had and he never would.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

She jerked her head up and glared at him. “Hank!”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I didn’t think you’d be getting in until this afternoon.” Standing on shaky legs, she smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt and nervously eyed Hank. “I was trying to get everything cleared out before you got here.”

“There’s no rush about that,” he said, glancing at the three filled boxes on the desk. “Looks like you’re about finished.”

“Yes, I am. I was just about to start putting things in my minivan.”

The moment Susan lifted one of the boxes, Hank rushed forward and took it away from her. Gasping, she stared at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“You shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy, should you?” He glanced meaningfully at her still flat stomach. “I mean, since you’re pregnant.”

Instinctively she laid her hand over her belly. “The boxes aren’t that heavy.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he told her. “I’ll take them out to your van for you.”

“Thanks. I really should be going.” She glanced around the room. “Being here in Lowell’s office makes me sad. Just thinking about the fact that he’ll never—” She choked back a sob.

“Yeah, I know.” Carrying the box under his arm, Hank opened the door and stood back, waiting for Susan to exit. “I promise you that we’ll bring Carl Bates in to see that he stands trial for what he did.”

Susan walked past Hank, accelerating her steps so that she wouldn’t be near him any longer than necessary. He followed her out to her Dodge Caravan, lowered the back hatch and loaded the box inside.

“I’ll get the other two boxes,” he said. “You go ahead and get inside out of the cold.”

She nodded, got in the van and waited. When Hank had the other two boxes of Lowell’s belongings loaded, he knocked on the window. Susan lowered the window and looked directly at him.

“I’ll follow you home and help you store Lowell’s things.”

“That isn’t necessary, I’ll—”

“We need to talk, Susan.” He scanned the sidewalk, noting that several passersby had slowed their gaits and were staring at Susan and him. He nodded and smiled and the onlookers returned his smile. “We need to talk, privately.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

He slid behind the wheel of his Lexus, backed out of the parking place and followed Susan’s silver-gray Caravan down Main Street and onto the highway leading out of town.

He had thought long and hard about what he wanted to say to Susan—what he had to say to her. He just hoped she would listen to reason and accept the help he intended to offer her. No one in this town ever needed to know that the baby was his, but he had every intention of making sure his son or daughter was well taken care of. After he fulfilled Lowell’s term as sheriff, he planned to return to the Bureau and resume his career. But he could be a godfather to his child, even if he had to do it long distance most of the time. He’d visit Crooked Oak occasionally, and when the child grew older, he or she could stay with him in Alexandria from time to time.

Hank pulled into the driveway directly behind Susan, got out and helped her from the van. “Why don’t you go on inside? I’ll get the boxes.”

“I’m going to store most of the things in the basement,” she said. “I’ve already cleared off a shelf down there.”

Ten minutes later, Hank came up from the basement and found Susan in the kitchen. She had remained upstairs while he stored Lowell’s things. He suspected that she couldn’t bear to see those items banished into storage. The only thing she had removed from the boxes before he’d taken them to the basement was the wedding picture Lowell had kept on his desk.

Hank remembered that day. A beautiful autumn day. A simple church wedding with friends and family. A deliriously happy groom. A lovely, shy bride. And a best man who had thought, more than once, about kidnapping that innocent bride.

“I’ve made coffee. I’m afraid it’s decaf,” Susan said. “You take yours black, don’t you? No sugar.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Thanks.” He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat, waiting while she poured the coffee into a bright red ceramic mug.

She poured herself a cup, added sugar and then sat across from Hank. “Thank you for putting away the boxes for me. I wonder if you would do something else for me while you’re here?”

“Anything. Just ask.”

“Lowell’s clothes.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t think I can bear to—”

“I’ll do it. Just tell me what you want done with them.”

“The homeless shelter in Marshallton can use them.”

She sipped the hot coffee.

“I’ll take them over there myself.”

“I don’t know what to do with his uniforms.” She surveyed Hank’s big body. “They’re too small for you.”

“Do you want me to take them with me, too?”

“Yes. Everything. Please. Even his underwear and socks and... Lowell would have wanted them to go to someone who could use them.”

“Lowell was a kindhearted man.”

“I was very lucky to have him for my husband.” I wanted you, she wanted to tell him, not Lowell. But I was too afraid of you to ever pursue you. I knew instinctively that I wasn’t strong enough for a man like you, that you’d devour me whole. I settled for a safer, tamer man. A man who worshiped the ground I walked on. You never would have loved me the way Lowell did. And I couldn’t wait forever for another Prince Charming.

“He told me more than once how lucky he was that you had married him.” Hank laid his hands flat on the table, palms down. And every time he told me how wonderful you were, I wanted you all the more.

“I loved him,” Susan said, her voice soft and low.

“I’m sure you did. And you must know how much he loved you.”

“I tried to be a good wife to him.”

“You were.”

“He wanted to be a perfect husband,” she said. “It almost killed him when the doctors told us that he could never...that he was sterile.”

“He wanted to give you a child. That’s why he came to me.”

Susan lifted her head and looked Hank directly in the eye. “You aren’t going to tell anyone that my baby isn’t Lowell’s, are you?”

“You don’t want anyone to know the child is mine, do you?”

She shook her head. “No. What would people around here think if they knew? As Lowell’s friend, you and I can have a friendly relationship and you can be my child’s favorite Uncle Hank. But if people knew you were my baby’s father, they’d watch us and judge us and—”

“I’m going to tell Caleb,” he said. “No one else.”

“Promise?”

It took a great deal of strength not to reach across the table and grab her small, delicate hands, but Hank resisted the almost overwhelming urge.

“Susan, why are you so afraid of me? Don’t you know that I’d never hurt you?” Every time she looked at him, he saw the fear in her eyes. Was there something more to her fear than not wanting anyone to know the truth about their child? If so, what was it?

“But you could hurt me,” she said, gazing into her lap, letting her long lashes shade her eyes. “If you don’t keep my secret...our secret. Yours and mine and Lowell’s.”

“I want to tell my brother, but I promise no one else will know.”

Susan gulped in a large swallow of air and nodded her head affirmatively. “All right. Tell Caleb. Sheila has been my one confidante, so...”

“This isn’t what I wanted, either.” Hank shoved the untouched mug of coffee away from him, scooted back his chair and stood. “I never planned on being a father. The last thing I need in my life is a child. The plan was for that baby—” he glanced at her stomach “—to be Lowell’s and yours. Not mine.”

“I haven’t asked you to take responsibility for this child,” she told him, her cheeks flushed with emotion. “I don’t expect you to be a father to—”

Hank slammed his fist into the palm of his hand, creating a loud smack. Susan jumped.

“Dammit, don’t you see? Without Lowell around, that kid isn’t going to have a father unless I step in and do the right thing.”

“And just what is the ‘right thing,’ Hank?” She watched him pace the floor in her kitchen, his big, lean body stalking back and forth like an animal trying to escape a captor’s trap. And that had to be the way he saw her and her baby—a threat to his much-loved freedom.

“I don’t know.”

Yes, you do, some inner voice urged.

The right thing to do would be to marry Susan and for the two of them to raise their child in a family unit. But heaven help him, he wasn’t willing to put his head in that particular noose—no matter how desirable he found Susan or how determined he was to not abandon his child.

“The right thing is for me to do what I can to take care of you while you’re pregnant and then to take financial responsibility for my child.”

“I see.” Susan eased back her chair, stood and faced Hank. “You’ve undoubtedly given this a great deal of thought.”

“Look at it from a logical standpoint. You’re a pregnant widow, without parents or brothers and sisters to help you. As Lowell’s best friend, no one is going to think it odd that I’ve elected myself as your guardian or the child’s godfather.”

“Yes, you’re right, of course. And I know I should be grateful that you’re willing to give up a year of your life, to take a leave of absence from the FBI and—”

“I don’t want your gratitude,” he told her. “I want your cooperation.”

He infuriated her with his cool logic. So calm and controlled. So unemotional. She was sure he hadn’t shed one single tear for Lowell. Hank wasn’t the kind of man who cried. Not ever. No matter how much he was suffering.

Tallie had told her once that of her three brothers, Hank was the most bitter and resentful about having been raised poor and parentless. Where Tallie had no memory of their parents and Caleb only vague memories, Hank and Jake did remember. Their father had been a gambler and a drinker and they’d moved from pillar to post and had often been run out of town by the local authorities. When their parents had been killed in an accident, the four Bishop children had come to Crooked Oak to live with their paternal grandfather, a good man but not a warm and loving parent by any stretch of the imagination.

“Hank won’t ever marry and have kids,” Tallie had told her. “He’ll never take the chance that he might not be as perfect at fatherhood as he is at everything else.”

Remembering her friend’s words, Susan sighed. “All right, Hank. I’ll cooperate.” She held out her hand, pretending that she was as unemotional and in control of the situation as he was. “You’ll watch over me until the baby’s born and then you’ll be his or her godfather, doting ‘Uncle Hank.’ But no one, other than Sheila and Caleb, will ever know Lowell isn’t the father of my child.”

The thing Hank wanted most at that very minute was to touch Susan, to take her hand and pull her close. And it was the last thing on earth he should do. He stared at her proffered hand—a gesture to seal the bargain.

She waited, shifting uncomfortably several times before he reached out and took her hand in his. The moment his skin touched hers, she felt an electrical current zing through her body. She closed her eyes momentarily and prayed for the strength to not succumb to the desire she felt for this man. How could she be so wanton? Lowell hadn’t been dead two weeks!

Hank held her hand and gazed into her big blue eyes. He should be damned to hell for what he was thinking—for what he was feeling. If he acted on his desire, he’d scare her to death and offend her so grievously that she’d never forgive him.

He shook her hand, then released it and stepped away from her. “I’ll come back over tonight and pack up Lowell’s clothes.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“If you need me, I’ll be in the sheriffs office this afternoon, and later, I’ll be out at Caleb and Sheila’s. I’m staying with them temporarily, until I find a place to live.”

“I’ll see you to the door.”

When he turned around, she followed him. He didn’t pause until he stepped out on the front porch, then he faced her briefly, smiled weakly and nodded farewell. She stood in the open doorway and watched him as he drove off down the road.

Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, dampening her cheeks in their descent. Life was unfair. So terribly unfair. She’d taken every precaution to keep her unrequited love for Hank Bishop from becoming an obsession. She had loved him from afar when she’d been a teenager, mooned over him the way some girls mooned over rock stars. But he had never noticed her, except as Tallie’s little friend, and deep within her she had known it was for the best. As much as she adored Hank, she was afraid of the way he made her feel.

Aunt Alice had insisted she always be the perfect little lady. No vulgar displays. No immoral thoughts or feelings. “Sex” was an unspoken word—a strictly taboo subject in her aunt’s house. What she felt for Hank had been wrong, and probably sinful, and had certainly frightened her. So, she had dated the safe boys—the ones who didn’t make butterflies soar in her stomach or create tingling sensations in the most intimate parts of her body.

Hank had left Crooked Oak and she had prayed for Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet, to make her fall in love with him and give her a happily-ever-after life. And she had been sure that she wouldn’t feel ashamed of or frightened by the way Prince Charming made her feel.

At thirty, she’d given up hope of this sweet and safe Prince Charming and settled for sweet and safe Lowell Redman. She had loved Lowell. And her feelings for him had never scared her, never frightened her, never consumed her to the point of madness.

No, those emotions had been reserved for Hank Bishop. The man whose child was now growing inside her body.

Three

“T hat’s the last box,” Hank said as he closed the car trunk. “I’ll take these things over to the shelter in Marshallton tomorrow.”

Susan stood on the front porch, the last rays of sunlight streaking her light brown hair with gold. She looked so small and fragile and alone, like a drifting soul seeking a safe haven. He wanted to open his arms and tell her to come to him—that she could find sanctuary there, within the boundaries of his protection. He could offer, but would she accept?

He hesitated by the car, watching her as she waited for him, her head bowed and her eyes downcast. Two cats curled about her legs and two fat little dogs stood guard on either side of her. Sweet Susan, with a heart as big as all outdoors. He’d never known anyone who loved animals the way she did. And every critter on earth took to her as if she were one of them.

How was he going to be around this woman—this kind, gentle, loving woman—let alone take care of her for the next year, without making love to her?

Women came and went in his life. He had deliberately steered clear of long-term relationships and women who would expect more of him than he was willing to give. He liked women—hell, he loved women. And they seemed to not only like him, but to be drawn to him. Jake had once told him that the fairer sex was attracted to Caleb because he was so damn pretty and later because he was a superstar athlete. And they were attracted to Hank because he was such an old-fashioned, Southern gentleman, with a hint of danger to pique their interest.

Susan Redman was different. She was absolutely nothing like the women he had dated. She was quiet and shy and a little naive. And she made him want her in a way that shook him badly. He was a man who took pride in always being in control of his actions and his emotions. But his attraction to Susan undermined his iron will.

“Is there anything else I can help you with today?” he asked, not wanting to leave. Not yet

She lifted her head and focused her gaze on him. Even at a distance, he could see the sheen of tears misting her eyes. God, honey, don’t cry, he wanted to tell her. Lowell wouldn’t have wanted you to be in so much pain. And I can’t bear seeing you like this.

“No. There’s nothing else to be done. Not today.” She smiled weakly and the sight of her sad little face unnerved him.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll go.” Don’t let me leave, he silently pleaded. Ask me to stay. Think of a reason to keep me here. He turned his back to her.

“Wait!” She took several hesitant steps forward, then halted at the edge of the porch.

He snapped his head around and walked up the brick walkway. “What is it?”

“I—I need to talk to you.” She held her hands together in front of her, as if she had to restrain herself from reaching out for him.

“Sure.” He walked up the steps and stopped directly in front of her, only a couple of feet separating them. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

His gaze followed hers as she glanced around, noticing that Mrs. Dobson, whose house was across the street, was thoroughly cleaning the glass in her front door and that Mrs. Brown, whose house was on Susan’s right, was sweeping her porch. Small towns were full of curious people and busybodies who couldn’t keep their noses out of other people’s business. No doubt both Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Dobson would take note of his presence and report to their friends and neighbors. Personally, he didn’t give a damn what people thought or what they said, but he knew Susan probably cared. After all, she had to live and work in Crooked Oak and would be raising her child here.

“Let’s go inside.” She eased backward and opened the front door.

Hank followed her, but before he stepped inside the foyer, he turned and waved at Mrs. Dobson across the street. She waved back and smiled.

Then he called out, “How are you, Mrs. Brown?”

The gray-haired woman blushed, but smiled warmly. “Just fine, Hank. Good to see you’re looking after our Susan.”

Hank waved. “You’ll be seeing a lot of me around here.”

“Glad to hear it,” Mrs. Brown said.

Hank entered the foyer where Susan waited, hands in front of her, head bowed and eyes glancing up shyly.

“They’ve been hovering over me like mother hens ever since Lowell died. They’re nosy, but their hearts are in the right place.”

“Yeah, I know. I grew up in this town, remember?”

“Close the door, please.”

He did as she asked. “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

She rubbed her hands together repeatedly. “While you’re here in Crooked Oak, finishing up Lowell’s term as sheriff, you’re going to need a place to stay.”

“That’s right.” What was she getting at? What was she trying to say. “I’m going to contact a Realtor tomorrow. Sheila’s told me that I’m welcome to stay with them as long as I’d like, but I really need a place of my own.”

She looked at him uncertainly. “Hank, I—I...”

She turned from him. Her small shoulders trembled. With his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. Shivering uncontrollably, she breathed in a gasping sob.

“You’re not alone, Susan,” he whispered as he lowered his lips to her ear. “I know how difficult it’s going to be for you without Lowell, but I promise I’m going to be here for you during your pregnancy. I want to help make things as easy for you as possible.”

She nodded. “I know.”

He held her with gentle firmness and willed his body not to respond to the small, slender woman in his embrace. “We both loved Lowell and we’re both going to miss him. I intend to do all I can to set things right for him. And that includes making sure his wife doesn’t want for anything.”

“I need you to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about your being...about Lowell not being... People wouldn’t understand.”

“I thought I’d made it perfectly clear that I’m not going to tell anybody anything.”

He kissed the side of her forehead, then rubbed his cheek against hers. Her hair smelled like sunshine and flowers. His body tightened. Loosening his hold around her, he stepped back. The last thing Susan needed was to feel his arousal pressing against her. He grasped her shoulders and slowly turned her to face him.

“I want to help you, to make things easier for you, not more difficult. There’s no need for anyone to know about our personal business.”

She breathed deeply. The trembling in her body subsided and she smiled at Hank. “We have to remember that your stay in Crooked Oak is only temporary. You have a job and a life somewhere else and I have a life here. Our only connection is my child.” She reached up and laid her hands on his chest, against the smooth, cool fabric of his overcoat. “I know that with Lowell dead, you feel a responsibility for my baby, but I realize that I shouldn’t expect you to be a father to this child. Lowell told me that you didn’t want children of your own and you didn’t intend to ever marry.”

“I don’t intend to marry and I don’t want children.” Hank ran his hands up and down her arms, caressing her tenderly. “But you’re right. I do feel a great deal of responsibility for your baby.” He released her abruptly. “I never considered this possibility when Lowell asked me to donate my sperm so you and he could have a child.”

“I’m sorry, Hank.” She touched his arm.

Don’t touch me, he wanted to shout. And don’t look at me with those big blue eyes that ask for so much. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. Fate has played a pretty nasty trick on us and we’re going to have to deal with it.”

“I’d like to be able to tell you that I don’t need you, but that would be a lie. I do need you. I need you for the next few months. If you could...if you would—”

“You name it and you’ve got it. I’ll do whatever you need for me to do.”

“Be my friend. Be an uncle—a godfather—to my baby.”

“Sure. All right. Anything else?”

“Find Lowell’s murderer and bring him to justice.”

“That’s my number one priority as sheriff.”

“Be careful, Hank.” She squeezed his arm. “I don’t think I could bear it if anything happened to you, too.”

Her words hit him like a sledgehammer blow to his midsection. He’d have to be a blind fool not to realize that Susan cared about him. But was that caring anything more than concern for Lowell’s best friend? Concern for the biological father of her baby?

She sat in the quiet stillness of the den as twilight approached and evening shadows fell across the room. Lucy and Ethel perched on the back of the sofa. Curled on the rug in front of the fireplace, Ricky snored softly. And Fred cuddled close to Susan’s side.

She needed to put her life back on track, to find a way to go on without Lowell. For her child’s sake and for the sake of her own sanity. She needed to get back to work. With only Scooter Bellamy, her assistant, as a full-time employee, the animal shelter was sorely understaffed. Being with the animals, caring for them and trying to find homes for them could fill the hours as nothing else could. The less she thought about herself and her situation, the better off she’d be.

Hank Bishop was going to be a part of her life for the next year. She might as well accept that fact and make the best of it. Whether she liked it or not, she did need Hank. She wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to go through eight more months of pregnancy alone, so who better to stand by her than the father of her child.

She supposed she should feel guilty for thinking of the child as Hank’s instead of Lowell’s. But the truth be known, she had always thought of the baby as Hank’s. God forgive her.

And God forgive her for not having the courage to face her feelings for Hank before she’d married Lowell. If she’d been a different kind of woman, she would have pursued Hank, done everything in her power to ensnare him, to make him fall in love with her. But the passionate feelings that Hank had always aroused in her frightened her far more than the prospect of living her life alone. Lowell had been a compromise—love, marriage and a family with a safe man, a man whose gentle love protected her from Hank Bishop.

But Lowell was gone now and nothing stood between her and her feelings for Hank. Nothing except her own fear.

Overcome that fear, she told herself. Take an uncertain, perhaps dangerous step. You’re still madly in love with Hank Bishop—and the thought of giving in to those wild, uncontrollable feelings scares you to death. Even if you get hurt, even if he leaves you, wouldn’t it be better to have known what it was like to belong to Hank, if only for a short period of time, than to die not knowing?

She reached over and picked up the telephone. Fred grunted, readjusted his fat little body and buried his nose against Susan’s leg. After taking a deep breath, she dialed the number.

“Hello?” Sheila Bishop said.

“Sheila, this is Susan. Is Hank there?”

“Yes, he is. We just finished dinner a few minutes ago. Do you want to talk to him?”

“Yes, please.”

“Is everything all right?” Sheila asked. “You sound kind of funny.”

“Everything’s fine. I just need to talk to Hank.”

“Okay.”

Susan waited, her heart thundering, her palms damp with perspiration, her mouth dry. What if she was making a mistake? What if she lived to regret taking such a bold step?

Stop second guessing yourself. For once in your meek little life, go for the gold.

After all, what did she have to lose in the long run? Oh, nothing but her self-respect and her heart.

“Hello?” Hank said.

“Hank, it’s Susan. I found you a place to live.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In the apartment over my garage.” She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

“I thought someone was living there already.”

“No. It’s empty. The young woman who lived there got married last month and moved out. I just haven’t had a chance to do anything about renting it again.”

“Are you sure about this?” He chuckled softly. “You don’t think the neighbors would talk, do you?”

She laughed. “The entire population of Crooked Oak is praising you for coming home to tie up the loose ends of Lowell’s life. I don’t think anyone will be surprised if you move close by so you can look after your best friend’s pregnant widow. That is what you said you wanted to do, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Susan, I want to look after you...for Lowell.”

“Then you’ll take the apartment?”

“Sure. Why not? It will make things convenient. I’d be right there, just next door, whenever you need me. How soon do you want me to move in?”

“How about tomorrow? The place is furnished, so just bring your suitcase and whatever else you brought from your Virginia apartment.”

“We can discuss rent and—”

“The rent’s free,” she said.

“I can’t accept the place rent-free.”

“Then you can earn it by doing husbandly things around the place for me.” She realized too late just what she’d said. A warm flush spread up her neck and heated her face.

“I suppose you mean things like mowing the lawn and cleaning the storm windows and—”

“Yes, of course that’s what I mean.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” He paused momentarily and then said, “How about going out to dinner tomorrow night? We could drive over to Marshallton.”

“How about my cooking dinner for us here?”

“I’ll stop by for dinner first and then you can show me the apartment. Will six o’clock be okay?”

“Yes. Six will be fine.”

Susan made her way up the wooden stairs that led to the rooms above the garage. One by one, she closed the windows she had opened early this morning to air out the place, and quickly turned on the wall heaters. She breathed in deeply and smiled. The place smelled fresh and clean. She had swept, mopped, vacuumed and dusted this morning before she’d driven to Marshallton for her first doctor’s appointment.

Carrying the bed linen, she entered the bedroom, then dropped the quilts and spread on top of the dresser and tossed the bottom sheet onto the bed. When she finished making the bed, she stood back and inspected her handiwork. This was going to be Hank’s bedroom for the next year, only a stone’s throw away from her. He was going to sleep in that bed every night—so close and yet so far away.

She could picture Hank in this room, in this bed. Did he sleep in his underwear? In pajamas? In the nude? The thought of Hank lying naked across the bed sent shivers through Susan’s body. He was tall and muscular, a big man, yet lean in his hips and belly. She could remember how he’d looked as a teenager wearing nothing but a pair of cutoff jeans when he’d washed his old car or mowed the lawn. Even then his body had been breathtakingly gorgeous. How many times had she stared at him so long and hard that Sheila and Tallie had dragged her away? As she grew older, she’d hidden her obsession with Hank more easily, until by the time he got out of college, she’d been able to see him and talk to him without showing the least sign of interest.

Aunt Alice had warned her that men like Hank Bishop weren’t the marrying kind. That smart, good-looking, ambitious boys like Hank were the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. And Aunt Alice had known from personal experience. She’d given her heart to such a man and he’d given it back to her in broken pieces.

“Don’t trust passion, Susan,” Alice Williams had said. “When a man makes you want him so badly that you’d sell your soul to be with him, stay away from him. He’s dangerous. He’ll wind up breaking your heart and tossing you aside like yesterday’s trash.”

She had fought her feelings for Hank Bishop for as long as she could remember. She’d shied away from him, knowing her aunt had been right. Even if she could’ve made Hank notice her, even want her, he never could have offered her the life she wanted—marriage, children and happily-ever-after contentment. With Hank, she might have known passion, might have soared to the heavens in his arms, but at what price? She hadn’t been willing to risk everything for an affair with Hank. Marrying Lowell had been the right thing to do—or so she’d thought.

Marrying Lowell, loving Lowell, hadn’t made her forget Hank. Hadn’t made her stop wanting him. Every time Lowell had made love to her, she’d wanted him to be Hank. She had cheated the dearest, kindest man in the world out of his rightful place in her heart. And she’d felt guilty the entire two years they were married. But guilt was a useless emotion. She couldn’t change anything—not then and not now.

The funny thing was, Lowell would want her to be happy. And if Hank Bishop was what made her happy, then Lowell would bless their union.

What union? She wasn’t married to Hank and she wasn’t likely to ever be. That’s the shy, meek Susan talking, she told herself. She knew she shouldn’t listen to her. She was tired of listening to her. After all, she was carrying Hank’s baby. Hank, the man she loved. The man she’d always loved. Wasn’t it about time she grew a backbone and took a chance? Maybe she wasn’t the most beautiful, exciting woman he’d ever known. Maybe he truly believed he didn’t want to get married and have children. But she could change his mind. She could make him love her. She could...

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