“I’m sure it will all be fine.”
He scowled. “Well, good for you because I’m not. But then I’m not sure about anything right now, including that Tanaka.”
Ken? “What are you talking about?”
“This week I got a call from a man named Ken Tanaka. He says he’s working with my cousin Brady. Says they found Mira and he’s sending over a lawyer to get Sean’s adoption pushed through.”
Tasha gasped. “But that’s great news, Seamus. You’ve been spending money you didn’t have for years trying to find her.”
He nodded sharply. “I have, but this guy apparently found her in a few days. When I called Brady to find out what the hell was going on, he just told me to thank you the next time I saw you. That Tanaka is your friend and he did it as a favor for you. What the hell, Tasha? Are you trying to make up for breaking my brother’s heart or is there more going on than anyone is willing to tell me?”
She looked around nervously, hating that she felt the need to. The old Tasha would have kicked Burke’s ass. She wouldn’t have cared if he’d threatened to plaster naked pictures of her on every billboard in the state.
But she had to think about Stephen’s future. She had to think about the baby.
She owed Ken big for Seamus, at least. That was one threat the bastard would no longer be able to hold over them.
“I’m glad about the lawyer. As for Stephen, I can’t talk about it, but I swear I didn’t leave to hurt him. I left because it was the only thing I could do.”
Some of the heat left his expression. “Moving away isn’t the answer. You can’t run from your life, Tasha. It always finds you.”
“Seamus…”
“Where are you going?”
“Seattle.”
“So far? I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”
She shook her head, looking away from the man who looked so much like her lover. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“What kind of favor?”
“Take care of him? Bring the kids over with crayons and paint and make a mess. Cook in his kitchen. Buy him jeans for Christmas.”
“Damn it, Natasha, jeans aren’t going to fix it. He needs you.”
And she needed him. “Please, Seamus.”
As she drove away, she was thinking about the Finns. They’d be fine without her. They were a close family, all of them survivors. Ellen would get Shawn to take care of himself. Jen would find her way and Owen would keep Jeremy so happy he’d hardly notice she was gone.
A month ago she would have stuck it out, bided her time and waited for the feds to get their evidence, but she couldn’t now. The baby changed everything.
Baby Finn.
She’d never even considered it before. Being a mother. She was wild Natasha Rivera, sexual deviant and decadent baker. She did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted to. Now she was going to be someone’s mother. Someone was going to need her to guide them. Teach them.
Someone was going to need her.
When she found out, her first—and second and third—inclination was to tell Stephen. He would want to know. Want to be a part of the child’s life. But she couldn’t. Not with Burke’s threat hanging over her head. Even if it wasn’t, their relationship was too uncertain. Stephen may seem heartbroken to Seamus, but he’d never told her that he wanted to keep going after their “mission.” That he wasn’t happy with the status quo.
He was waiting for you to tell him you wanted more, that you were ready for more.
She hadn’t been. Not until that party. Not until she’d had to face the truth about her feelings for him.
And now it was too late.
She wasn’t her mother. She wouldn’t hold a man’s heart hostage with a child. She loved him too much to put that kind of pressure on him.
Tasha reached up and touched the emerald heart around her neck. She hadn’t taken it off and, if she had her way, she never would. It would be a memory, an acknowledgment that the baby was conceived in love. Something that could be passed down.
If someone had told her two months ago she’d be in this situation, she would have laughed. Now all she wanted to do was cry.
Chapter Twelve
This was a bad dream that wouldn’t end.
Tasha looked out the window at the throng of reporters and photographers who had been camped out in front of her apartment building for the last three days. Ever since that political blogger had released pictures of her with the senator.
Not Burke’s pictures, Thank God. But they were titillating enough to draw this crowd.
Tasha glanced back at her open laptop and moved closer, studying them again. Her in a bikini cuddling on Stephen’s lap at Burke’s house. A close up of them mid-passionate kiss when he was carrying her back to their bedroom after the rope demo—thankfully, it had been cropped. Her laughing at dinner, unaware that Stephen was watching her with something more than hunger in his expression. Pride? Longing?