“Graham doesn’t know about—”
“No! And I don’t want him to know.”
“Surely he’s asked where he came from, who his father was.”
“I diminished his importance. Graham accepts the fact that I’m his only parent.”
Dillon frowned doubtfully. “For the present, maybe. But what about tomorrow, and the day after that? The older he gets, the better the odds that he’ll demand to know who sired him.”
“If that time comes, I can honestly tell him that I don’t know.”
“There are ways of detecting it. Genetic fingerprinting, it’s called.”
“I don’t want to know. It makes no difference. He’s mine. Mine,” she stressed, her voice cracking. “If I had known about Hutch’s illness, and Neal’s sterility, I might have considered keeping Graham in New York. I never guessed that he would be a pivotal factor in their lives. It frightens me, Dillon. You think I overreacted this afternoon, but I know the kind of treachery that Neal and his father are capable of.”
Her fear was obvious. Instinctively Dillon reached for her. Just as instinctively, she recoiled. “Dammit, I wish I didn’t represent such a threat to you. I’d like to hold you.” The darkness seemed to intensify the huskiness of his voice. “Just hold you, Jade. That’s all.”
After several moments, she whispered, “I don’t think I would mind if you held me.”
“I would never hurt you,” he said as he eased himself out of his chair and onto the sofa beside her. “Never.”
“I believe that.”
He placed his arms around her and leaned back, carrying her with him until they were settled against the cushions of the sofa. The intimacy of the position alarmed her. She clutched his biceps. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I’ll let you go anytime you say. Do you want me to? Tell me.”
After a tense hesitation, she shook her head and relaxed against him. Apparently the brevity of his tank top didn’t offend her. She laid her head on his chest. Her hair slid across his skin, causing him almost to groan out loud with pleasure. Her hand remained trustingly on his arm.
“Jade?”
“Hmm?”
“Since that night, you’ve been unable to make love?”
“Unable and unwilling.”
“Unwilling to even try?”
“I have tried. With Hank.”
“Hank Arnett?” Jealousy stung him.
“He was in love with me. I knew it, but didn’t want him to be. I didn’t want to hurt him, either. I kept telling him it was no use, that I couldn’t change. I urged him not to place false hopes in my recovery. Hank’s got a real stubborn streak. He wouldn’t listen.”
“Obviously he was finally convinced.”
“Not for years. I wanted to return his affection, so I started seeing a psychologist. Eventually I was able to kiss him without freaking.”
“Did you enjoy kissing him?”
“As much as I’m able to.”
Dillon’s jealousy was somewhat mollified. She hadn’t qualified it when she had told him she liked his kisses.
“About that time, Mitch died,” she continued. “Lamar showed up at his funeral. Seeing him again brought back all the horror. I finally told Hank that I couldn’t have a sexual relationship with any man. It was impossible.”
“Did you tell him why?”
“No. And because I didn’t, he got angry and stayed away for months. One day he came back, and we’ve been good friends ever since. He finally accepted it.”