Page 88 of Whispers

“He told you about us?” This wasn’t ringing true at all. Hunter had been adamant that no one should know of their affair. No one. Not even his father.

“He didn’t want to, but I admitted that I knew about you and the baby and—”

“Oh, God.” No way! Her brain screamed denials. This couldn’t be happening. “He would never have said a word.”

Weston sighed patiently, as if willing to let her anger run its course, but his eyes moved from her eyes to her lips and lower still before returning, bright and eager to hers. “You’re right, he wouldn’t have. Seemed embarrassed about it, but his back was to the wall, and so he asked for a job out of the country and we provided one. He even took out a life insurance policy through the company naming you as primary beneficiary. The original documents are at the company headquarters in Portland, but I think we have copies here . . .” He rolled to his feet, nearly stumbled, then caught himself and was out the door of his office, leaving Miranda and her doubts to face each other. How much of the truth was he telling? How much fiction was woven into the facts?

She was relieved that he was gone for a few minutes. She had to pull herself together, find a way to prove that he was lying, and yet the feeling of doom, that what Weston and Dan Riley were telling her was true, clasped around her throat as cold and hard as a steel chain.

Could it possibly be true? Every instinct told her that Weston was lying through his straight, white teeth, but she had no way of proving it. The private investigator she’d hired a few days before had turned up nothing.

“Here ya go,” Weston said, his speech slightly off, as he reentered the room and dropped an employment folder onto the desk in front of her.

Miranda scanned the documents. Health history, life insurance policy application, old job employment reviews. All signed by Hunter Riley. Her heart dropped. Some of what Weston was telling her had to be true; there was no other explanation. A buzz, like the singing of heavy electrical wires, started in a distant part of her brain.

Weston didn’t take his chair again. Instead he stood behind her, close enough that, as she looked over the documents, trying to concentrate, fighting against an overwhelming sense of defeat, she sensed him; felt his heat. So close. Too close.

He leaned nearer, his breath hot and smelling of scotch. “Whether you want to face the truth or not, Miranda, the fact of the matter is that Hunter Riley is a snaky son of a bitch. He stole cars and knocked up underage girls. Fourteen, for crying out loud. How old is he? Nineteen?”

“Twenty.”

Her head was pounding. This was wrong—so wrong, but the pages of black and white that blurred in her vision were evidence, hard, solid testimony that Hunter had left her. Her insides squeezed painfully.

“But he does have some redeeming qualities, I suppose,” Weston went on, whether to make her feel better or to give credence to Taggert Industries’ decision to hire him. “Riley’s a hard worker, when he stays out of trouble. He does right by his old man, and he wants to provide for you and the baby—at least when he dies.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Face it.”

“He wouldn’t leave me.”

“Sure he would. He had no choice.” Rounding her chair, he faced her and dropped a hand to her shoulder. His fingers were hot. Tense. “I’d like to take care of you, Miranda,” he said.

“Don’t touch me,” she warned as she tried to scoot away.

“Can’t help myself.”

The buzz in her mind cleared and she realized he was more drunk than she’d first susp

ected. “Don’t even think about it,” she cautioned, but he was already closing in on her. “Weston, for the love of God, don’t—”

Both his arms surrounded her, and he hauled her effortlessly from the chair. “I care about you, Randa. Always have.”

“You’ve got me mixed up with Tessa.”

His laugh was short and brutal. “Don’t think so.”

“But—”

“Didn’t she tell you? She quit seeing me because every time I’d touch her, or kiss her, or make love to her, I was thinking about you.”

“I don’t want to hear this,” she said, trying to scramble away, the room spinning as he grabbed her and pulled her close.

“Don’t you know how hard this is for me?”

“Then stop.” Dear God, what was happening?

“I can’t, Randa girl, and you know it. You’ve felt it, too, the heat between us. I never wanted Tessa. Never. She was just someone to fill a void.”