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To him.
And when she lay breathless in his arms again, she knew that she wouldn’t run, that despite the risks she would confess everything to the man she loved.
Who she was.
What she’d done.
Why she’d come to Puerto Rico.
No matter what happened to her, Roarke deserved the truth.
* * *
The sound of the helicopter woke her.
She sat up quickly.
She was alone in Roarke’s bed.
Obviously, he’d left for San Juan without waking her. That meant she had another few hours’ reprieve before she told him everything.
It was as much a relief as it was upsetting. Now that she’d made up her mind, she wanted to get it over with.
She looked at the clock and gasped. It was almost ten. Susanna couldn’t still be asleep…
The door to the bedroom opened. Roarke stood in the doorway, smiling, his daughter in his arms.
“Jenfer,” the little girl said happily.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Roarke said softly.
“But—but I heard the helicopter…”
“John’s on his way to pick up some supplies. And I decided to take the day off. Surprised?”
“Yes. I mean, I thought—”
“Hey. You’re supposed to be glad that I’m playing hooky today.”
She was glad. Unbelievably glad. It meant another day with him before she had to tell him the truth because she couldn’t very well do that when he’d stayed home just to be with her—and if the logic that had brought her to that conclusion was upside down and
inside out, who cared?
“I am glad,” she said softly. “Very, very glad.”
She held out her arms. He bent down and let Susanna run to the bed so that Jennifer could scoop her up and smother the giggling child with kisses.
“Save some of that for me,” Roarke said, laughing, and Jennifer raised her face to his for a coffee-flavored kiss.
When he drew back, he was smiling.
“Get dressed,” he said. “We’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”
“Roarke…”
“Yes?”
Jennifer shook her head. “Nothing. I just—I just wanted to say your name.”
