MEREDITH HAD TRIED TO GET Don to stay the night, but he was adamant about getting back to Chicago for an important meeting the next morning. Just as well, Meredith thought. McGee could watch him once he was back in Chicago. She wanted his companionship no more than he wanted hers. The gloves were finally off. He took the corporate jet out barely an hour after they left the Harden Properties building, leaving a subdued Meredith to deal with Blake.

Mr. Smith left the limousine in the driveway. There was no longer any need to pretend, and if eyebrows were raised at the rented limousine, it no longer mattered.

Blake was still asleep when Meredith dragged herself out of bed late the next morning to cook breakfast.

“You should get a maid,” Mr. Smith remarked as he nibbled bacon while Meredith took biscuits out of the oven. “You look out of place in the kitchen.”

She glanced at him with a wan smile. He looked out of place in a kitchen himself, in his jeans and olive drab T-shirt. But he could cook better than she could.

“We do what we must,” she reminded him. She pushed back the untidy plat of her long blond hair and sat down at the table, like him in jeans and T-shirt. Except that now the jeans had a designer label, and the T-shirt was silk. “Have a biscuit.”

He reached for one just as an impatient hand pounded on the back door.

“I’ll get it,” Mr. Smith said, ignoring her impulsive movement.

He opened the door and Cy gave him a hard glare as he walked into the kitchen, tossed his Stetson onto the clean counter and sat down.

Meredith was totally stunned. She couldn’t even speak. She hadn’t expected to see Cy again, and certainly not here, not after last night.

“Make yourself at home,” she said finally.

“Haven’t I always?” he asked carelessly. He scowled at Mr. Smith, who sat back down with his usual imperturbability and began to eat his breakfast. “Am I interrupting anything?” he added.

“Just breakfast,” she said. “Get a plate if you want some.”

He did, to Smith’s irritation, and filled it.

“How is your mother?” she asked.

He lifted his dark eyes to hers. “She’ll be all right. It wasn’t a stroke, thank God.”

She pushed the eggs around on her plate. “I’m glad.”

“What the hell is going on between you two?” he asked flatly, watching her jerk in surprise. “I’ve never seen my mother faint, but she went white as a ghost last night after your…revelation. What have you got on her that makes her so afraid of you?”

“Nothing that should worry her,” she told him. “I’ve given up vendettas. They’re too wearing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he mused, watching her. “I’ve been looking forward to the fireworks when you try to pry my company out of my hands.”

“You don’t think I can?” she asked with faint cynicism.

“No. But you’re welcome to try,” he added.

“Thank you so much for your permission.” She put down her fork. “You withheld those mineral leases against the advice of your attorney and your directors. And you did it for less than business reasons.”

“Of course I did,” he agreed. He lit a cigarette, ignoring the glares he got. “I didn’t understand why Henry Tennison went out of his way to antagonize me—not until last night—but handing over those leases went against the grain. I don’t do favors for the enemy.”

“The enemy had you outflanked this time,” Meredith said, smiling at him. “Caught you off guard, I daresay.”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing. “I was diverted.”

The way he said it brought color to her cheeks.

“Mommy!”

The laughing voice brought her head around as a pajama-clad Blake wandered in, dragging his stuffed rabbit by the ear and rubbing his eyes. “Mommy, I got woked up,” he murmured, leaning against her.

Her eyes grew tender as she lifted him onto her lap and cuddled him, smiling at the sleepy face.

Cy had to bite down hard to keep his temper. Henry Tennison’s child, and the love in her face was impossible to hide. She’d looked at him like that once, with that same soft wonder. He’d withdrawn from it, not trusting her, and pushed her out of his life. Now he was just beginning to realize what he’d thrown away. He didn’t like feeling second best.

Smith saw the expression on the younger man’s face. Jealousy. He knew the look.

Cy glanced in his direction, dark eyes glittering. He hated the idea of Smith more than he envied the child. It disturbed him to see the man sitting so comfortably with Meredith, living with her.

“Tiny’s in the washing machine, Mr. Smith,” Blake murmured. “Does she want a bath?”

“Let’s go see. Up and at ’em, boy.” He took Blake from Meredith, his face softening as the boy grinned at him. “I’ll get him dressed.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Cy watched them go, gazing at the child with cold hunger. He and Meredith might have eventually had a child together if things had been different. He might have looked like that. He almost winced. He doubted if he’d ever have a child, because marriage wasn’t in his vocabulary. God knew, none of the women he’d dated over the years had even wanted them. Only Meredith. Why hadn’t she told him that she and Tennison had a child together? He felt betrayed, wounded to the bone.

“Who’s Tiny?” he asked stiffly.

“Mr. Smith’s iguana,” she replied. “Why are you here?”

He fingered his coffee cup and sighed. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” he said.

She couldn’t let him get to her. She didn’t dare. Her eyes fell to his hands, long-fingered and dark-skinned. She remembered the feel of them so well.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

“She’ll be all right.” He finished his coffee and his cigarette and stared at her. “Did you love your husband?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s easy to love people who care about you. Henry treated me like fine china. He spoiled me, protected me, loved me with all his heart.” She glanced down, feeling the grief all over again. “He was so alone.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “He hid you out, didn’t he? That’s why I couldn’t find you.”

She nodded. “Looking back, I suppose he could quite easily have found out about any criminal charges and fixed them. He could have solved all my problems in an hour or so. But as my brother-in-law once said, Henry had ulterior motives for not wanting you to find me.” She looked up at him. “He would have done anything to keep me.”

Cy didn’t find that surprising. He could barely drag his eyes away from her face. “By then you were pregnant, weren’t you?”

This was shaky ground. She had to feel her way. “Yes,” she replied. “Blake was Henry’s whole world.” If only he’d say something, anything, about Blake! But he couldn’t know that Blake was his child. He seemed to be trying to pretend that the child wasn’t even here.

“And yours?”

She smiled softly. “Oh, yes. And mine. He’s the reason I get up in the morning.”

“Does your lifestyle leave you much time for him?” he asked. “Oh, yes—” he nodded when he saw her surprise “—I know what the demands are. Meetings, trips, conferences, snags in business deals, wining and dining clients, coaxing directors to vote your way…I do that every day of my life. But I don’t have a child to neglect.”

“I don’t neglect my son,” she said hotly.

“You’ve been here for over a month,” he returned.

“And I’ve talked to Blake every night on the telephone.”

“How nice for him.”

Her fingers clenched on the table. “This is just what I need,” she flared. “A bachelor telling me how to raise my child!”

“If I had one, I’d make damned sure he didn’t grow up by himself.”

“You’re insinuating—”

“What’s the rabbit’s name?”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“His stuffed rabbit. What does he call it?”

She knew, but he had her rattled and she couldn’t immediately remember.

He cocked an eyebrow at her flush. “Well, that says it all, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“My son is none of your business,” she muttered.

“I agree. Henry Tennison’s son is the least of my worries right now,” he added coldly. “My mother wants to see you.”

So that was why he’d come. She wouldn’t admit to herself that she’d hoped it was for any other reason. “Why?” she asked.

“I have no idea. But she’s in for observation and tests for at least two more days, and she wants to talk to you. I told her I’d ask.”

She slid the coffee cup around on the table. “We don’t have anything to say to each other,” she said.

“She says you do.” He leaned forward to trace patterns on the back of her hand. “Meredith, tell me what’s going on.”

Her hand withdrew gently from the arousing touch. “It’s nothing to do with you,” she lied.

He caught her fingers in his and held on, his eyes flashing. “You don’t want me to touch you anymore, is that it?” he asked angrily. “Now that you think you’ve beaten me out of my mineral leases, you don’t need to pretend you want me anymore?”

She looked at him helplessly, her heart throbbing in her chest at the contact. “It wasn’t…that,” she whispered, because she couldn’t bear what he was thinking—that she’d slept with him just to keep him in the dark about her takeover plans.

His face seemed to lose some of its tautness, and the fingers gripping hers became caressing. He looked at them, his eyes on the engagement ring that still graced her third finger, the one Henry had given her. “You were mine long before you were his,” he said. “I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I suppose you were entitled to any revenge you wanted.” She might not know it, and he didn’t say it, but giving Tennison a child had been her best revenge. Nothing hurt him more than that child.

He let go of her hand all at once and stood up, and the fire in his eyes went out. “Go and see Mother, if you will, so she’ll stop dwelling on whatever’s between you. She’s nobody’s idea of congeniality, but there are reasons for her lack of it. She’s all I’ve got left.”

Her eyes closed. It hurt to hear him say it, even though she realized it was true. She didn’t want to have to confront Myrna Harden again. But she wasn’t going to be able to get out of it without arousing his suspicions and, perhaps, pushing Myrna into doing something desperate.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll go.”

His face was as bitter as hers was sad. He scooped up his Stetson and looked down at her with quiet intensity. “You’ll be leaving Billings now, I gather.”

She nodded. “I have to get back to work.” She smiled ruefully. “As you say, my life is one business meeting after another. It’s been difficult running things from here, despite the fax machine and the phone.”

“And the airport?” he asked. “Yes, I heard about the corporate jet traffic we’ve been getting from Tennison International. Now it makes sense. You went to a lot of trouble to keep me in the dark.”

“You don’t know exactly how much,” she murmured.

“I think I might even tell Mrs. Dade why you don’t need the job anymore,” he said with dry humor. “You must have laughed your head off about it.”

“I enjoyed it,” she said. “After what I do in a day’s time, waiting tables was a vacation.”

He only nodded. His eyes fell to her mouth, lingering there. “I thought I was playing a pat hand, but you had all the aces, didn’t you, honey?”

“I had to have the mineral leases,” she said simply. “My expansion plans depend on them.”

“There are mineral leases available all over the western states, including Arizona, if you’re after moly. You are, aren’t you?” he added with keen perception, watching her face give the show away. “Why didn’t you just go to Arizona in the first place?”

“Because you weren’t there,” she said flatly, her eyes flashing.

“That’s right,” he replied. “You weren’t after leases, you wanted my neck in a noose. You think you’ve managed to maneuver it there. But you don’t know how strong a hold I have on my board of directors, or how hard I’m willing to fight to keep control of them.” He smiled slowly. “I like a good fight. Come on, honey. You want my company, come and get it. But I play hardball.”

“So do I,” she returned with a calm smile. “Henry taught me how.”

The mention of her late husband hardened his face. “He had the killer instinct,” he said softly. “So do I. But I don’t think you do, little Meredith. It takes more than your married name to spook me.”

“I’ve got the proxies,” she reminded him.

“And they’ve already changed hands once,” he replied cheerfully. She didn’t know it, but her own brother-in-law was his best ally. That made him just a little arrogant. His eyes twinkled. He was actually enjoying himself. From the bitter revelations of the night, and the worry, was emerging something else. “You never competed with me in the old days. You gave. You never took.”

“Times change,” she said, lifting her coffee cup.

“Count on it.” He slid his hat over his dark hair, slanting it toward one eyebrow. “I won’t give up and I won’t give in. You’ve got the upper hand right now. Let’s see how long you can keep it.”

“I’ll send you a postcard from Chicago,” she drawled.

“Are you leaving right away?” he asked, letting his eyes run over her. He moved closer, looming over her deliberately, with one lean hand resting on the chair beside her shoulder. His breath stirred the hair at her forehead as he spoke. “Stick around,” he whispered, tilting his head so that his mouth was poised just above hers. “I’ll take you to the penthouse and we’ll make love on the carpet.”

“I don’t want to—oh!”

Her protest died as his hand found her soft breast and his thumb traced the suddenly hard nipple.

“Oh, what?” he whispered, and his mouth closed on hers while his hand claimed her with blatant possession.

She pushed backward, only to find that she was overbalanced. He held her in that vulnerable position, so that she had to cling to his neck to keep from falling. And while she clung, he kissed her, hotly, intimately, his tongue thrusting so deep into her mouth that shards of pure electricity ran into her loins and all but convulsed her.

He tore his mouth away and righted her chair, standing over her with no visible sign of emotion except for a faint, mocking smile on the lips that had bitten hers into submission.

“You’re mine,” he said quietly. “You always have been. You always will be. Run while you can, but you’re not getting away. Not this time. I won’t let go.”

He turned and went out the back door, closing it firmly behind him. He meant it. Even the child wouldn’t deter him. He had Meredith in his grasp, and he was going to keep her, no matter what it took. The past six years had been the purest kind of hell. He wasn’t going through that again, not if it meant pulling Meredith out of her office and tying her in his house. Don would help him get her off the Tennison board and out of her office permanently. Then she was going to be his forever. In what capacity, he’d worry about later.

Blake’s laughter finally got through to her as he and Mr. Smith came bouncing down the stairs and back into the kitchen. Smith lifted an eyebrow at her swollen mouth and scarlet flush.

“Ran him off, did you?” he murmured, smiling wickedly.

“He left voluntarily,” she said. She got up. “His mother is asking for me. I’ve got to go to the hospital and see her. I promised.”

“What does his mother want, do you think?” he asked.

She looked, and felt, worried. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m almost certain it’s something to do with you-know-who,” she added so that Blake wouldn’t get too curious. “I don’t think she’ll tell him, but I can’t be sure.”

“What if she does?”

Her eyes mirrored her concern. “You said yourself, we’d both better find a hole.”

“I’d bet on it.”

She grimaced. “Well, maybe it needn’t come to that. First I’ve got to see what’s on her mind.” She looked at her watch. “Hamilton is supposed to phone me this morning. Can you call Don for me and ask him to intercede?”

“Sure thing.”

“Thanks.”

She kissed Blake and left Mr. Smith to feed him while she disappeared into her bedroom. She had one dress here she hadn’t worn—a soft paisley print in silk. She put that on, fixed her hair neatly, and stepped into her hose and high heels. To beard the lioness, she might as well dress to the teeth, she told herself. It might give her more confidence than she really had.

She wouldn’t allow herself to think about Cy and what he’d said, or what he’d done. Her mouth still bore the imprint of his, and she could taste him on her lips. He wanted her. That hadn’t changed. But she couldn’t give in to him again. She had to get Blake out of Billings, along with herself, before Cy found out the truth.

Myrna Harden was sitting up in bed, looking wan and dull-eyed. She straightened when Meredith came in the door, her whole demeanor nervous and preoccupied.

“Thank you for coming,” Myrna said when Meredith stopped by the bedside. “Please, sit down.”

The younger woman dropped elegantly onto the one padded chair by the bed, her chin lifted, her eyes calm and level. “What do you want?”

“Are you going to tell Cy?” Myrna asked solemnly.

“I told him to tell you that you had nothing to worry about,” Meredith said stiffly. “I meant it. No, I’m not going to tell him. You’re perfectly safe.”

Myrna flushed. Her eyes fell to her cold, trembling hands on the sheet. “What will you do?”

“Nothing. I’ll go home to Chicago, and you can get on with your life.”

“And the takeover?”

Meredith’s expression didn’t waver. “I need those leases. I’ll have them, no matter what I have to do.”

Myrna studied the other woman intently. “You’re very strong, aren’t you?”

“Yes, thanks to you,” came the terse reply. “I grew up fast when I left Billings. Being on the streets and pregnant at the age of eighteen would make most people strong, if it didn’t kill them.”

Myrna’s eyes closed. “I’ve lived with it all these years,” she said in a faint monotone. “I’ve watched my son go wild, when he wasn’t brooding or working himself half to death. I’ve thought about you, and wondered and worried about the unborn child. Finally, I managed to forget, at times. I was…I was learning to live with it. And then you came back.”

“Our sins catch up with us, isn’t that the maxim?” Meredith asked quietly.

Myrna sighed, her dark eyes seeking Meredith’s gray ones. “Oh, yes. And mine have. But you’re making Cy pay for them. It’s me you should be punishing, not him.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve done?” Meredith asked softly.

Myrna flushed, averting her gaze. “I see.”

“The sins of the father, visited on the child. Or in this case, the mother,” Meredith said. “I hated you. I lived for the day I could pay you back for what you’d done to me, for what you’d cost me. I thought of nothing else. When Henry died, vendetta became the very breath in my lungs, the most important thing in my life. You owe me!”

The older woman clenched her hands together and winced.

Meredith had to restrain herself forcibly. She swallowed, twisting her purse in nerveless hands as she struggled for composure. “I lost my home, my security. I lost the only man I ever loved. I lost my honor, my reputation…everything! If it hadn’t been for Henry Tennison, I might have lost my life.”

Myrna’s face looked pinched with nerves. “He adopted the child?”

“Yes,” Meredith said. She looked at the purse. “Blake was the light of his life. He made it legal. On the birth certificate, he is listed as Blake’s father.” Remembering that eased her fear. It occurred to her that the birth certificate was her ace in the hole. No matter what claims the Hardens might make, that document would stand in any court of law. She looked up, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “To all intents and purposes, Blake is a Tennison. So you don’t have to worry that Cy might find out the truth. I won’t tell him. And you won’t have to.”

“I thought that was what I wanted,” the other woman said quietly. “Not to have my sins laid out for his inspection. But have you thought what it means? What you’re denying Blake?”

Meredith nodded. “That can’t be helped. It’s too late.”

“Cy…would love him,” she whispered.

Meredith caught her lower lip in her teeth. Her eyes closed. “Yes.”

“Oh, Meredith,” Myrna said, tears in her voice, in her eyes. “I thought Cy would get over you. I was sure he’d find someone else, get married, have children. I didn’t realize how…how involved he was with you, emotionally.”

“It wasn’t emotional on his part,” Meredith said coldly. “It was just physical attraction. Physical obsession.”

“No.” Myrna shifted against her pillows, looking old and frail and somehow vulnerable. “No, it’s lasted far too long for that. It’s in his eyes when he looks at you, even when he talks about you.”

“You don’t understand,” she returned, leaning forward. “He came to see me, before the board meeting. He told me about your husband so that he could make me understand why he doesn’t want commitment. He said that he never wanted marriage, or children. He doesn’t believe that fidelity exists.”

Myrna was taken aback. “He never said any such thing to me.”

“You’re his mother,” Meredith replied. “He’s very protective of you. He always was. But he was telling the truth. I was just a novelty. He knew I couldn’t fit into his lifestyle, he never planned to marry me at all. You were right about that. The engagement was just a sham, to keep me with him.”

“He feels something for you,” Myrna said doggedly.

“Certainly. But I don’t want him,” she replied. “I won’t spend the rest of my life being used like a company car. I have my own responsibilities and a son to raise. I’m not cut out to be Cy Harden’s mistress!”

Myrna flushed, but she didn’t look away. “Would you marry him, if he asked you?”

“No.” She got to her feet. “He’s thrown me out of his life twice now. I have no intention of inviting a third rejection.”

“But he doesn’t know,” Myrna said fervently. “Meredith, he doesn’t know about the child, about what I’ve done…”

“And he won’t.” She was tired, and she felt it. Looked it. “Mrs. Harden, revenge is a stupid thing. Someone tried to tell me that, but I wouldn’t listen. I wanted to get even with all of you, but now I just want to go back to my own life and get on with it as best I can. I’m sorry that I’ve made things hard for you, and for Cy.”

“I can’t believe that you’re asking me for forgiveness,” Myrna said quietly, “after what I’ve done to you.”

“I have a son,” Meredith said. “I’d do anything for him, anything to protect him, to spare him pain.” She hesitated. “I…understand.”

The older woman sighed. “Yes. A mother will make any sacrifice for a much loved child. Cy was all I had. He still is. I loved him and protected him perhaps too much. My good intentions seem very selfish now, considering what I’ve cost him. He has to know about the child, Meredith,” she said firmly. “Even if he hates me when he knows what I did. He has every right to know about his son.”

“I won’t tell him,” Meredith said. “I told you, it’s too late. It would serve no purpose except to upset Blake’s life.”

“I can take you to court,” Myrna said recklessly. “There are chromosome tests that can prove paternity.”

“Yes, but for that you’d have to have my permission, and I won’t give it,” Meredith told her. “I won’t let Cy have my child. The two of you wanted nothing to do with me six years ago. Fine. Now I want nothing to do with either of you.”

“Is it fair, to punish the child for mistakes I made?” Myrna demanded.

“Look who’s talking about fairness,” Meredith said in a dangerously quiet voice.

The old woman actually flinched. She lay back against her pillows, her dark eyes accusing, her strength drained. “Very well. Do what you will. But I’m going to tell Cy.”

Meredith felt the fear all the way to her feet. She couldn’t admit how frightened she was or show her reluctance. There was still a slim chance that Myrna was bluffing, that she might change her mind.

“Do what you want to,” she said proudly.

Myrna let out a long sigh. “You can’t imagine that I really want to tell my only son what a mess I’ve made out of his life, or what I’ve cost him out of misguided love?” she asked. “I’m the villain of the piece, and I’ll get what’s coming to me. But I won’t let Cy go through life not knowing he has a son.”

Meredith glared at her. “And what about Blake? What about the mess you’ll be making of his life? He thinks of Henry Tennison as his father.”

“Blake has the right to know his real father, doesn’t he?” Myrna asked. “He might come to hate you one day, when he found out the truth.”

That was a fact Meredith had already faced, but it didn’t make things any easier. She clutched her purse tightly. “I won’t give up my child.”

“Nobody is asking that,” Myrna said, her voice almost gentle. “Can’t you accept that this is every bit as difficult for me as it is for you? Cy is going to hate me.”

“You’re his mother. He won’t hate you. He’ll hate me.” She gave a bitter laugh. “It will give him one more reason, as if he needs it.”

“He doesn’t hate you, either,” Myrna replied surprisingly. She smiled. “He said that he was looking forward to taking his company away from you. It was the first spark of life I’ve seen in him for years, as if he finally had a reason to smile.”

Meredith averted her eyes. “He won’t get custody.”

“You sound as if you think he’ll go to court the minute he finds out about Blake.” Myrna sat up slowly. “Meredith, he’ll know what you went through. He’s not going to blame you. I think he has some idea already of how badly he hurt you. Don’t paint him completely black. Even if he is my son, he isn’t totally without feelings.”

Meredith stared at her purse, feeling insecure, young. “Blake is all I have,” she whispered.

Myrna’s eyes stung with tears. The evidence of her hard-heartedness was painted on that young, tragic face, and the sight of it reduced her to sick humility.

“Meredith…”

“I have to go. I…” She turned and almost ran out of the room, giving Myrna the victory for this battle. She had no heart for any more fighting.

Myrna watched her go with anguish. She hadn’t meant to upset the other woman so badly. Now she might bolt and take Blake, run away as she had once before. She didn’t know what to do. Cy had to know, but telling him was only going to cause Meredith more pain. She was genuinely sorry for that. Her attitude toward the younger woman had changed completely over the past few weeks. She didn’t like the idea of hurting Meredith any more. But the choice was well and truly out of her hands now. She had to grit her teeth and tell the truth. If Cy hated her for it…well, it would be no more than she deserved. At last she’d have it off her conscience, and one step toward putting things right would have been taken.

She picked up the telephone and dialed Cy’s office number.