Loving You Read Online Free PDF Page B

it.”
    â€œThis can’t wait—”
    She shut the door and gave the dead bolt a fast spin. Then slipping the chain into place, she turned around and leaned against the door, as if bracing her back against the solid oak panel to keep the intruder out.
    â€œWho was it?” Jonas called out.
    Trouble, she thought, her brain wheeling with the possibilities. But she shouted back, “No one. Just some salesman!”
    Another lie.
    She reached up and rubbed the center of her forehead with her fingertips. The volume of the TV seemed to reach inside her head to play on the last few nerves that weren’t already shrieking. Dropping her hand to her side, she shouted, “Turn off the TV and do your homework!”
    â€œTa—sha…” Jonas drew her name out until it sounded like a six-syllable word.
    â€œNow, Jonas,” she said, and waited a heartbeat or two before he complied. Silence dropped on the old house like a warm blanket and Tasha breathed a sigh of pure relief.
    Jonas, on the other hand, slouched through the living room, down the hall, and to the stairs. He shot her one angry glance over his shoulder, then stomped up the stairs, each pounding step an exclamation point to his disgust. When he reached the top of the stairs, he went to his room and slammed the door with enough force to rattle the windows downstairs.
    Tasha winced at the demonstration, then pushed away from the door and headed into the kitchen to finish the dishes. She stared into the window above thesink but didn’t see the blackness outside. Instead, she focused on her own reflection. “He’s mad,” she told her mirrored self, “but he’s safe.” He was here. In his own home. With her.
    Where he belonged.
    Where he would stay.
    *   *   *
    When he woke up the next morning, Nick was still feeling the frustration that had had him kicking his way down a graveled drive, then peeling out of Mimi Castle’s driveway. And not even pushing the Vette to ninety on the way home or feeling the oncoming wind slap at his face had done a damn thing to make him feel better.
    If he’d only been able to get past the redhead, he might’ve been able to straighten out the situation then and there. But wouldn’t you know that when he most needed his legendary charm, it had deserted him?
    He didn’t have a clue who the redhead was—and under different circumstances, he’d have been anxious to find out. Instantly an image of her leaped into his brain and those green eyes of hers hit him just as hard in memory as they had in person.
    Damn it.
    But she wasn’t the real problem. She was just blocking his way to it.
    Jonas Baker was beginning to feel like an ax hanging over his head. Hell, he’d only known about the kid for twenty-four hours and already Nick had been pushed to the edge of his patience.
    Yeah, parenthood was a real treat.
    Whoa
. His brain stopped, backed up, and erased that word,
parenthood
. He wasn’t this kid’s father. No way,nohow. All he had to do was convince the kid. If he could get a few minutes alone with the boy, Nick was sure he’d find a way to settle this mess without courtrooms. Or the media.
    He knew he wasn’t the father. Couldn’t be. The kid was probably a fan. A fan with fantasies. A bit of hero worship gone bad, that’s all. Nick could straighten him out. Give him a pep talk. Kids liked that kind of shit. Build up the boy’s self-esteem a little. Tell him that this was no way to meet your football heroes. Then he’d sign a few photographs.… hell, maybe he’d give the kid one of his old jerseys. Nick grinned. Yeah. That was it. No fuss, no muss.
    Jackson would want him to take a DNA paternity test. But hell, he didn’t need it. Didn’t want it. Why put the kid through that, anyway?
    And a small voice in the back of his mind whispered,
Besides, if the press got hold of a DNA