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  “Very funny,” Adam said dryly. “Let me tell you something, Jane dear. I’d as soon take on Saddam Hussein single-handedly than try to muster these three commandos of mine alone. I bow to Laura’s superior strategy. In short, she’s the general in this operation. I’m the captain.”

  “Well, I am impressed.” Jane sat back in her chair, her lively eyes moving thoughtfully between Laura and Adam, her slender hands flanking her plate, which contained a flaky croissant stuffed with turkey and cheese and a small bowl of cream of broccoli soup. It was Laura’s favorite, and suddenly she was starving.

  “Lunch is getting cold while we’re having this silly conversation,” she said lightly, and picked up her spoon.

  It was all the signal the children needed. They fell to like starving soldiers, which made Adam laugh and Jane shake her head, smiling. Twenty minutes later, Adam had cleaned his plate, Laura had eaten all but a sliver of her sandwich, the children had picked out their favorite portions—cheese and bread for Robbie, turkey and cheese for Ryan, only the soup and the turkey for Wendy—but Jane had hardly touched a thing. She eats like a bird, Laura thought.

  Adam asked, “Something wrong with your lunch, Jane?”

  She dabbed a napkin across her mouth. “No, of course not. It’s just that I had breakfast with Mother this morning.”

  Adam rolled his eyes. “Sheila’s still trying to fatten you up, is she?”

  Jane’s smile grew brittle. “Naturally. Why, didn’t you know? The reason I don’t have a man is because I’m too thin.”

  Laura snorted. “That’s nonsense. You’re not too thin.”

  Adam and Jane burst out laughing. Laura noted that Adam reached out to cover Jane’s hand comfortingly. The children laughed, even though they didn’t have any more clue than Laura what was funny. When the hilarity had died down—if that was what it had been—Adam pushed his plate back and said to Laura, “Jane’s given me a lot to think about. I’d like your opinion on it.”

  Laura shrugged, feeling both uncomfortable and terribly important. “I’m not sure I’ll have an opinion.”

  Adam ignored her demurral, leaning toward her excitedly. “Remember what we were talking about the other night?”

  Laura could only shake her head in puzzlement.

  “You know, you asked me what interested me most.”

  “History,” she said instantly, and he beamed at her.

  “Okay, well now, think about this. Jane’s inherited a house in Maine.”

  “A very interesting old house,” Jane put in.

  “She and Cody have decided to move there to live.”

  “Cody’s my son,” Jane said, her voice imbued with maternal love. “He’s six.” She sent an apologetic look to Adam. “I’m afraid his grandmother is monopolizing him just now. It’s funny. Usually she doesn’t have time for him, but now that I’ve determined to go, she’s trying to convince me how cruel I’m being by taking him away from her.”

  “Sheila can’t understand anyone who would willingly leave the Fortune fold,” Adam commented wryly.

  “As you well know,” Jane said. She turned her gaze on Laura again and confided, “We’re the black sheep of the family, Adam and I. Well, he’s the gray sheep. I’m the black one.”

  Well, that explains the camaraderie, Laura thought. Two Fortunes who’ve opted to make their own way. She wondered what Jane had done to get herself painted the blackest of the sheep.

  Adam sent Jane an irritated glare before turning back to Laura. “Now, here’s the thing. Jane has a business here, her own business, independent of the family.”

  “I want to sell,” Jane said. “It will be easier that way. I’ll simply open a new shop in Maine.”

  “A shop,” Laura echoed.

  “An antiques shop,” Adam explained.

  Antiques. History. Laura reached out blindly, unaware that she grasped Adam’s hand. “It’s perfect!”

  Adam flashed her a bright smile, but then he sat back, sobering. “Wait a minute now. Let’s think about this clearly. I don’t actually know anything worthwhile about antiques.”

  “You know more than you think, Adam,” Laura insisted enthusiastically. “Remember what you were telling me about the life-styles of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries?”

  “You’re certainly well traveled,” Jane added. “You’re bound to have picked up something worthwhile in Europe.”

  “And you can study,” Laura pointed out. “A great deal has been written about antiques. The public library ought to be a gold mine.”

  “Don’t forget college resources,” Jane said. “I know of at least one seminar you can attend right away. And never underestimate Hollis. That old gentleman has taught me everything I know, Adam, and I consider him a primary asset of the shop. I’m absolutely certain he’d stay on.”

  Adam sat back in his chair, obviously thinking it all over. “We’d need appraisals,” he murmured, “property, inventory.”

  “Already in the works,” Jane informed him. “You’ll want an audit of the books, too. Why don’t you speak to your CPA about it? Let him make a recommendation.”

  Adam shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

  “I insist, Adam,” Jane said flatly. “I’ve made it a condition of the sale.”

  “Your agent,” Adam said suddenly. “How will she feel about you bringing in your own buyer?”

  Jane smiled. “I’m a Fortune, Adam. Business is in my blood, even if it isn’t the family business. I negotiated a fair contract with her. If I find my own buyer, I pay her expenses and she bows out quietly—saving me a hefty commission, I might add. Now, what do you say?”

  Adam rubbed a hand over his chin, then shook his head. “Let me mull it over a day or two.”

  Jane smiled and leaned toward Laura, saying conspiratorially, “I’ve got him!”

  Adam laughed and cuffed her lightly under the chin. “I said I’d think about it, imp. Don’t check your bank balance until the deposit’s made.”

  “He’ll do it,” Jane said to Laura. “I know him. He always makes a decision, then he second-guesses it, then he convinces himself that he was right all along. You’ll see.”

  “That’s the problem with family,” Adam said, folding his arms. “They think they know you so well.”

  Jane winked at Laura, who smiled back. Laura had been right about this young woman. She was delightful, insightful, strong in a graceful, elegant, quiet way. She would have made Adam a wonderful nanny and partner. Laura was shamefully glad that she was Adam’s cousin.

  With lunch finished, they adjourned to the den. Laura got out crayons and coloring books for the children, then lay on her belly on the floor with them, encouraging them to play quietly while Adam and Jane talked. The conversation turned to their fathers. Jane, it seemed, was as puzzled by Nathaniel as Adam tended to be by Jake. Laura left the room to put the twins down for a nap. Wendy was tired, too, after romping in the snow all morning, so Laura took the time to read her a story, during which she nodded off peacefully. When Laura got back to the den, she found Adam and Jane deeply involved in a discussion about Jake’s sale of company stock to Monica Malone. Feeling like an interloper, Laura turned to go, but Adam caught her eye and waved her over. He moved over, making room for her on the end of the sofa, and draped his arm loosely around her shoulders after she sat down, all without pausing in his conversation with Jane.

  Finally, the topic seemed exhausted, and Jane sat forward, gathering up her pocketbook from the coffee table. “Well, this has been wonderful,” she said, “but Cody’s bound to be wondering what’s happened to me by now. He’s very good with Mother, but even his patience is not inexhaustible.”

  “He must be very mature for his age,” Laura observed idly. “You make him sound like a small adult.”

  Jane smiled fondly. “He’s an unusually intelligent little boy, and frankly, in some ways, he’s years more mature than Mother.”

  Laura was taken aback, and sl
ightly embarrassed to have received such information, but Adam patted her knee reassuringly. “You’d have to know Aunt Sheila,” he said dryly.

  Jane laughed. “Yes, it requires firsthand experience. You’d think we were lying if we tried to tell you all of Mother’s foibles. But then, she’d be the first to say the same about me.” That last was delivered with poorly disguised sadness and, to Laura’s amazement, more than a little guilt. Jane stood abruptly. “I really have to go.”

  Adam got up to walk her out. “It’s been great to see you.” He took her in his arms for a bruising hug. “I hate to see you go away.”

  “But you understand,” Jane said confidently. “I really need to be on my own.”

  “I understand,” Adam assured her.

  She hugged him once more, then pulled back, thrusting a hand down at Laura. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with some secret knowledge. “It’s been a pleasure, Laura. Don’t let him beg off the shop. We know it would be good for him, don’t we?”

  Laura started to protest that she had nothing to say about it, but at the last instant she swallowed the words and merely clasped Jane’s hand, saying, “I hope you’ll be very happy in Maine.”

  “Somehow I think we will,” Jane said. Then she went off, arm in arm with Adam, to take her leave.

  Laura felt somehow that she had been complimented. Jane obviously felt that she had some influence with Adam, but she was only the nanny, after all, and temporary at that.

  I couldn’t cope with it. I can’t let you leave. Yet.

  She focused on that yet, telling herself that she must not forget that today was a reprieve, not a pardon.

  Some minutes passed before Adam returned. He seemed in a thoughtful, reflective mood, one hand idly smoothing the short hair above his ear, the other tucked into the pocket of his pants. “What do you think?” he asked, sitting down beside her again.

  She lifted a brow. “If you mean what do I think of Jane, I think she’s lovely.”

  He smiled. “Oh, yeah. She’s something, our Miss Jane Fortune. Of all the family, I think I like her best.”

  “Kindred spirits and all that.”

  He nodded. “You could say that. Jane never wanted any part of the family business, either, and for the same reasons, I think. Her father is certainly as consumed by the Fortune companies as mine is. Then there’s her mother. Nathaniel divorced Sheila years ago, but she clings to the Fortune name as if she’s due it, and everything else that comes her way.”

  Laura cocked her head. “I’m surprised, then, that Jane took back her maiden name.”

  “Took back?” Adam repeated. He shook his head, his smile turning sad. “You’re assuming that she’s divorced.”

  “Well, yes, I…”

  His mouth turned down. “You remember that she called herself the blackest sheep in the family?”

  “Certainly, but I just assumed—”

  Adam took her hand. “She was never married to Cody’s father.”

  Laura felt a wave of regret. “Oh, my. The poor thing.”

  Adam squeezed her hand. “I knew you’d understand. The crumb left her when she told him that she was pregnant.”

  “But she had her child anyway,” Laura added mistily, “and kept him. It must have been very difficult for her. I imagine it still is.”

  Adam nodded. “Not that the family abandoned her or anything.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Truthfully, Sheila was the worst.”

  “Her own mother,” Laura marveled.

  “You’d have to know Sheila,” Adam said again. “At first she all but put out a hit on Cody’s father, but Jane wouldn’t have it. She was terribly hurt by his abandonment, but she took all the responsibility herself. Deprived of her preferred target, Sheila took her venom out on Jane for a while.”

  “All that nonsense about Jane being too skinny to keep a man!” Laura exclaimed. “Somebody ought to point out that Sheila couldn’t keep Nathaniel!”

  “That would have been Kate,” Adam said, smiling. “But Sheila’s not exactly the sensitive type.”

  “So I gathered. Sounds to me like Nathaniel’s better off without her—and Jane’s better off without Cody’s father.”

  “Agreed,” Adam said, “but I wasn’t really asking what you thought about Jane. I was asking what you think about the idea of the antique shop.”

  “Ah.” Laura folded her arms. “Well, it’s really none of my business.”

  He cut her a look. “Don’t make me haul out the military attitude, Beaumont. When I give an order, I expect it to be carried out. Now tell me what you think.”

  “I thought I was the general,” she said teasingly.

  He threw an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to his side. “I’ll get it out of you yet.” Then his embrace gentled, and he leaned his head close. “I value your opinion, you know, and that makes you a genuine rarity.”

  Laura smiled, going all soft inside. “So far as I’ve seen, nothing else has intrigued you like the possibility of the antique shop, Adam. Isn’t that right?”

  “I suppose. It’s just that I’d be going into it cold.”

  “No, not really. There’s your love of history, your respect for antiquity.”

  “All right.”

  “You said that you wanted to do something that you could be passionate about,” she reminded him.

  He nodded. “So?”

  “So, I think you should follow your heart. That’s where true passion begins, isn’t it?”

  “You think I should follow my heart?” he murmured, curling a finger beneath her chin. She nodded, even as he turned her face up to his, her heart beating with strong, rapid strokes. “Following your heart can be dangerous,” he whispered, and to prove it, he brushed his mouth across hers.

  Laura gulped. “Y-yes, but anything w-worth—”

  “Do you know what you’re worth, Laura? Do you have any idea how I value you?”

  She made a small sound of distress and surrender as his hand settled on the curve of her jaw and neck. To be valued. To be held dear. She lifted a hand to his arm, as if intending to push him away, but she didn’t have the strength or the desire. Then he began to kiss her, and it was too late.

  His mouth tasted hers repeatedly, and with such tender enjoyment that she let her head fall back and gave him unrestricted access. His arm folded her close, and he plunged his tongue into her mouth over and over, his hand sliding down her throat and across her chest, to her breast. He covered her and squeezed gently. Laura clutched the front of his shirt, her breathing ragged, as his hand molded her and his tongue plunged and plunged.

  Abruptly he broke their mouths apart, his hand dropping to the bottom of her sweater. “I have to touch you.” His gaze held her as his hand burrowed beneath her sweater, tugged her undershirt from the elasticized band of her knit pants and slipped beneath it to skim her torso. He tugged the strap down and folded back the cup of her bra. She caught her breath as his hand covered her bare breast. He closed his eyes and lowered his head to the curve of her shoulder, breathing, “Oh, God, Laura. I need…” His hand convulsed around her breast, then left it to travel lower.

  She jerked when his fingers pushed beneath the band of her leggings, but he caught her mouth, stifling any protest with the plunge of his tongue. She dug her fingers into the top of his shoulder, uncertain whether she meant to push him away or pull him closer. He was trembling even harder than she was, but his hand pushed lower, slipping beneath the narrow edge of her panties. The muscles of her stomach rippled, but she fought the urge to lift herself against him. He plunged his hand between her legs and cupped her. She cried out, feeling her own damp heat. He took the sound into his own mouth, shuddering as he parted her with the tip of one finger and pushed up into her.

  It was too much. Laura turned her face away, gasping at his invasion. Instantly he withdrew. Pressing his cheek to hers, he brought back his trembling hand, whispering, “I just had to touch you. Laura… Laura, look at me.�
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  Timidly she turned her head and slowly lifted her gaze, breathing roughly through her mouth. He stroked her cheek lightly with the backs of his knuckles. “I want you so much.”

  She closed her eyes, unable to bear the way his desire for her softened his features and warmed his eyes to glowing golden lights. If she looked again into those eyes, she would surrender everything, and that would be the most selfish thing she could possibly do. Yet she couldn’t suppress the rising surge of joy that filled her. He laid his forehead against hers, and she let her arms encircle him. He kissed her eyelids and her nose.

  “Have you put away your things?” he asked softly.

  She shook her head. He pulled back. “Do it. Do it now. Go and put everything away.”

  She let her arms fall away, and slipped out of his embrace, moving to the very edge of the sofa. There she paused. She didn’t want to say it, but she had to. She bit her trembling lip. “Adam…”

  He took her hand in his and stared at it, telling her that he didn’t want to hear what she was going to say. She said it anyway.

  “This doesn’t change anything. I’ll have to go sooner or later.”

  “Later, then,” he said harshly, his gaze flicking upward to scan her face.

  She wanted to tell him that she couldn’t delay very much longer, that time was catching up with her. She could feel it. She just couldn’t force the words from her mouth. It would mean taking another step along the way out. It would mean explanations and lies, for she certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. He’d know what a dunce she was if she told him about Doyal. She’d hate that. She wanted, needed, for him to think well of her. Impulsively she leaned back and kissed him quickly on the mouth.

  His smile flashed, and he reached for her, but she popped up and moved out of reach, smiling as she shook her head. She hurried away, pausing only when she drew near the foyer to lean against the wall, hug herself and calm her hammering heart.

  I want you so much.

  And now he knew that she wanted him, too. She couldn’t regret that, and yet, as she’d told him, it changed nothing, except perhaps to strengthen her resolve to protect him and his children in the only way she could. As badly as it hurt, when the time came—and it was coming soon—she would go. God help her, she had to do it before it was too late.