Small waves lapping against the sh.o.r.eline made Scout want to sit on the dock and hang her feet in the cool, refreshing water. Trees bursting with autumn color-deep russets and flaming oranges-hugged the property like a protective barrier sp.a.w.ned by nature. A security wall at least twelve feet in height snaked among them, surrounding the lavishly landscaped lawn.

Just when Scout was sure she couldn't be dazzled any further, they entered the ma.s.sive, contemporary-style house and she was awestruck all over again.

"Wow," she said with a sigh. "This is ..." she shook her head "... amazing." Even that didn't describe it. She felt certain one word would never be sufficient to accurately describe this mansion.

"Spectacular is the word I think you're looking for," Max offered, looking every bit as awestruck as she felt. He dropped her duffel onto the floor. "Truly spectacular. No matter how many times I come here, I'm always startled all over again."

Scout moved deeper into the two-story foyer, her sneakers rasping softly on the marble floor. She heard the telltale beeps of Max entering in the security code. This place was like a fortress. Surely they would be safe here.

Come to think of it, she mused as she turned around slowly in the center of the room, she could get used to a place like this.

To her surprise, her stomach, still queasy from the discomfort of the st.i.tches and the medicinal smell of the hospital, rumbled hungrily. She'd been sure when she left the emergency room that she might never eat again.

"Is there a restaurant somewhere around here?" she asked hopefully, biting her lip. She was suddenly ravenous.

Max moved toward her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his borrowed suit trousers, his pale blue shirt open at the throat and stained with her blood, his tanned jaw sporting golden stubble. He looked far too dangerously s.e.xy for his own good-or hers.

"I'm afraid going to a restaurant would be too risky," he said solemnly as he stopped a few feet away. "However, the kitchen here will be well-stocked. Victoria sent someone over to take care of it as soon as the decision was made to come here. Are you hungry?"

She nodded, but the hunger she'd experienced seconds ago had unexpectedly morphed into another kind. Her mind immediately conjured the remembered taste of his lips and the feel of his muscled body beneath her exploring palms. She recalled the way he'd looked at her in that treatment room, and her knees felt weak all over again.

Could she have been so wrong all these months? Had their time together affected him as much as it had her? Why hadn't he called? Or ... or something?

"I'm starved," she blurted, certain if she didn't get back on track she would say something she'd regret. Her latest epiphany had nothing to do with the reality of the situation. This was too important to let personal feelings get in the way. Her baby's life depended on what they did. She immediately suppressed the guilt that rose at how she'd kept the truth from Max. She couldn't deal with that right now, either.

"This way."

She followed him through the house, barely keeping up, she was so mesmerized by the beauty of the decor and furnishings. The artwork was also spectacular. Everything was perfect. Only a professional could have decorated a house so precisely and exquisitely down to the very smallest detail.

"Has anyone ever lived here or was this place built as a retreat for friends and a.s.sociates of your boss?" she asked, then forgot all about the question. "Oh, my G.o.d," she muttered. The kitchen was huge, as big as her whole apartment back home, with beautiful mahogany cabinets and marble countertops. The view over the lake from the large picture window was breathtaking.

"It's just a kitchen," Max teased, then, as he peered into the commercial-size stainless steel refrigerator, suggested, "How about a salad?"

"Fine." She was too distracted by her surroundings to care what she ate. The bra.s.s rack that hung over the enormous center island held dried spices and sparking copper pots and pans. Scout stared at everything, taking in the lavish details.

"This house was once Victoria's home," Max said in answer to her question.

Scout hopped onto one of the stools flanking the island and folded her arms over her middle, only then remembering that she wore the matching jacket to the trousers Max had borrowed. The white blouse she'd been wearing had been cut into pieces and removed by the nurse. Max had given her the jacket, which, other than being too large, looked pretty good with the navy slacks Nicole had lent her. Now, however, both ensembles were basically trashed.

Max busied himself with making the salads. Scout simply enjoyed the view-of him, mostly. He really did look like a beach hunk from some California sh.o.r.e. She recalled well how tanned and rippled his body was. Warmth pooled deep inside her at the memory. A smile curved her lips. She hadn't thought about s.e.x in a while and she'd purposely kept Max out of her fantasies as much as possible. Which wasn't nearly enough.

"Let's sit over here." He carried their plates to the breakfast nook nestled in a huge bay window. "What would you like to drink? There's cola and juice."

She wondered briefly if he had told whoever had come to stock the kitchen that she was pregnant and would need something to drink other than wine. This place definitely looked like a "wine" kind of place.

"Juice, please."

He nodded and crossed the room to fill her order. Minutes later he returned with two gla.s.ses of grape juice. Scout's mouth watered just looking at it. She loved grape juice. Had craved it like candy for the past two months of her pregnancy.

"So, why doesn't Victoria live here now?" she asked between bites.

Max studied his salad for so long that Scout wasn't sure whether he intended to answer her or if he'd lost the thread of the conversation. Then he said, "This is where she lived with her husband and son." When his gaze returned to Scout's she knew the rest was not good.

"Her son went missing while they lived here, and was never found." He cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. "Her husband was murdered a few years later."

Heavy silence fell over the room for a while and Scout shuddered at the prospect of how horrifying it must be to lose a child and a husband. She couldn't imagine the pain and suffering. The respect she already had for Victoria Colby tripled and then some. That she could suffer such loss and still carry on with her life, still manage such a high-profile agency ... It went beyond Scout's ability to comprehend the kind of courage and determination the lady must possess.

"Anyway," Max added, breaking the awkward tension, "she never comes back here. Using it as a guest house is better than letting it go to waste."

Scout considered her own crisp greens, but instead of taking a bite, asked, "Why doesn't she just sell it? Get rid of the memories altogether."

Those blue eyes, the color of the sea, looked directly into hers. "Her son was only seven when he was taken. Some people say that when an abducted child grows up-a.s.suming he isn't murdered-he sometimes finds his way back home to wherever he lived before." Max cleared his throat again. Scout knew he was struggling with the same emotion choking off her own ability to speak. "That's why she keeps it ... in case he ever comes back."

The silence surrounded them again. Emotions thickened. Scout forced herself to eat the salad, knowing the child growing inside her needed nourishment.

In that moment, sitting in the elegant kitchen in Victoria Colby's former home, Scout realized all the things she hadn't considered since discovering she was pregnant.

She hadn't stopped to ask herself what she would do with her child when she was gone on a case. She hadn't wondered how she would handle him or her being sick, as children often were, with no one to fill in for her at the office. There was no other income except hers. What had she been thinking when she'd presumed she could do this alone?

She stole a covert look at Max. He'd finished his lunch and was staring at the plate as if there was something else he wanted to say. Or maybe he was still hungry and couldn't decide if he intended to do anything about it. Should she tell him now? Just come out with it and let the chips fall where they may?

"Max-"

"Scout-"

They both stopped abruptly and looked at one another expectantly.

"Go ahead," he offered with a wave of his hand.

She shook her head. "No, you go first."

He stared at the gla.s.s tabletop again for what felt like forever before lifting his gaze to hers. "I tried to call." He shrugged. "You know, afterward. But you never phoned back."

He'd called? "I didn't get any messages."

"I left two," he insisted. "A few days, maybe a week after they released us."

She frowned, trying to figure out why she hadn't gotten the messages. Then it dawned on her. "Someone broke into my house right after I got back home. I suppose it could have been a week," she said, not realizing until after the words were uttered that they didn't really explain anything. "They took my TV, VCR, telephone answering system and new CD player."

"So you didn't know I'd called." He looked even more confused now ... or maybe just uncertain of what he should say next.

"No. I didn't. I thought you ..." Oh, Lord, she didn't want to tell him that she'd thought he wasn't interested. Then he'd know she had been ... still was ...

Silence enveloped them once more, while they looked deep into each other's eyes and wondered what might have been.

Did this mean there was hope? Antic.i.p.ation churned through her. G.o.d, she didn't want to get her heart broken by this man all over again. But if there was any possibility ...

Max searched for the right words to say, but he wasn't sure there were any. She hadn't returned his calls because she hadn't gotten the messages. To say that he was relieved would have been putting it mildly. He'd been almost certain she felt something for him. He'd been positive of it when he'd held her in his arms. But after they'd been released and she'd returned to Houston, time and distance had made him uncertain. Fate had thrown them back together, given them a second chance. Well, maybe that was pushing it. This might not mean anything, and he wasn't prepared to skate that far out on thin ice until he was more certain of her feelings than he was now.

She stood, picked up her plate and gla.s.s and gave him a weary smile. "I know it's only two o'clock, but I think I'll go take a shower and a nap." She hesitated a moment. "That is, if you think it's safe enough to let my guard down."

"You do that. Pick any room you'd like. I'll keep watch. We're safe here."

He watched her go, wishing not for the first time that he could go with her. But she still had major issues to sort out. Such as how she felt about the man who'd fathered her child. Fury knotted Max's insides every time he thought of the guy. And there was the Alexon business. Until all that was cleared up, they both had only one choice, and that was to keep this thing between them strictly business.

BY THE TIME SCOUT EMERGED from the shower, Max had delivered her duffel to her chosen room. She'd picked what looked to be the master suite, which was enormous and absolutely beautiful. She could definitely see Victoria Colby in this room. It fit the woman's sophisticated style and personality.

Scout took her time drying her hair, checking carefully to see that she hadn't gotten her bandage wet, then slipping on a clean T-shirt and climbing into the ma.s.sive bed. She moaned with delight as she sank beneath the luxurious covers. If she'd ever slept in a bed this heavenly she had no recollection, and she was certain she would never have forgotten the experience.

She chastised herself again for not telling Max the truth when she'd had the chance. When he'd said he had called her, a new kind of hope had bloomed. His revelation, combined with what she'd seen in his eyes at the hospital, made her wonder if his feelings for her went deeper than she'd first thought. Was there any chance they could have a relationship? She wanted it desperately.

With that in mind, she'd kept her secret to herself.

It sounded selfish, she knew, but she had to see where this possible relationship might go. She wanted Max to want her for herself, not for the baby. She had to make sure that what he felt for her was enough on its own merit without the added motivation of having a child on the way. What good was a future with Max if it was based on her pregnancy rather than on love?

Maybe it really was selfish of her, but she wanted it all. She wanted him to love her the way she'd dreamed during all those lonely nights since they'd been released from isolation. She wanted to have him say the words to her. Then she could tell him the rest of the story.

Okay, maybe she was rationalizing. But she was very nearly certain it was the right thing to do. If he couldn't love her completely, then the marriage would never work in the long run. She'd seen too many fall apart-firsthand. She was always following husbands and wives around, hired by their spouses to check on suspected cheaters. Marriage could be a bad business if the partners went into the arrangement without all their ducks in a row. Scout wanted to do this the right way, one duck neatly lined up behind the next.

WHEN SCOUT AWOKE it was completely dark in the room. For several seconds she lay utterly still, listening, searching her memory for time and place.

The Colby Agency guest house.

She'd lain down for a nap and had fallen asleep. Glancing at the bedside clock as she got up, she realized that it was almost eight o'clock. Wow, she had slept the afternoon away. But she'd needed the rest. Her hand went automatically to her tummy and she smiled. Soon she would be able to feel the baby moving inside her. She couldn't wait. Briefly, she wondered if it was a boy or a girl.

Her eyes widened. What on earth was she going to name this kid? The image of Max flitted through her awareness. He would have some say in that, she supposed. Unless he turned his back on her for lying to him. He might turn on her ... but he would never turn on his child.

Still, she refused to think about that right now. She straightened her T-shirt, pulled on a pair of jeans from her duffel bag and made a quick trip to the bathroom before going downstairs. Already she was hungry again. She shook her head. If she wasn't throwing up she was devouring anything in sight. Again, her mind immediately presented the likeness of Max. Boy, even pregnant she had a dirty mind.

The upstairs hall was dimly lit by lovely seash.e.l.l wall sconces that allowed her to make her way to the landing and the stairs without any trouble.

The staircase swept along one wall, curving downward with such grace and elegance that it took her breath all over again. The crystal chandelier that hung from the soaring ceiling sent shards of light spilling across the marble. As beautiful as the house was, Scout was shrouded in sadness once more as she thought of the tragedies that had befallen the woman who owned it.

The marble of the foyer floor felt cool beneath her bare feet as Scout crossed to the living room or whatever rich folks called the huge s.p.a.ce. She figured Max might be there, since she could hear the low sounds of a television.

When she stepped into the enormous room, her breath stalled in her lungs. A dark-haired man stood in front of the sofa, facing the doorway she had just entered, as if he'd heard her approach. Which was impossible, of course, since she'd been barefoot and completely silent.

Recognition jarred her heart back to an acceptable rhythm. "Mr. Cooper ... Doug," she said, with a flood of relief.

He smiled, that charming expression that would make any woman swoon. Her hand went of its own volition to her chest. "Good evening, Miss Jackson." He relaxed visibly. She realized then that he'd been prepared to draw his weapon.

She moistened her lips and produced a smile. "How's Donna?" Donna England was her a.s.sistant. She could just imagine how Donna had enjoyed keeping company with this guy. The woman, who was as much friend as co-worker, had no doubt kept Douglas Cooper on his toes trying to keep things strictly business.

"Miss England is quite ... well," he said, his tone the only evidence she needed to know that Donna had likely cornered him in the office the very first day they'd met.

"When did you get here?" Scout decided she could use some more of that juice and ... "Where's Max?" she asked abruptly. If he'd run out on her and decided to make a move without her she was going to- "I talked him into getting some shut-eye while you were resting." Doug lifted those broad shoulders in a careless shrug. "He resisted, of course, but I persuaded him."

Men, she mused. They always had to play it tough, especially if another man was around. "I'm glad. I think I'll get something to eat." She backed up a step. "You hungry?"

He skirted the end of the couch. "Coffee would be nice. Do you mind if I join you?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

That smile again. It was nothing short of a miracle that Donna had let him leave Houston. And thinking of home, Scout realized she should check in with her office. Find out firsthand what was going on, and get the lowdown on Mr. GQ here.

She hunted through the refrigerator until she found the makings of a sandwich, which she promptly threw together and consumed, almost groaning in satisfaction. When had eating become such a pleasure? If she continued on this course she'd be huge by the time the baby came.

Doug sipped his coffee, seeming to enjoy watching her eat like the proverbial pig.

"I don't usually devour food like this," she felt obliged to say. No woman in her right mind wanted a guy like him to think she gorged frequently.

"I like a woman with a healthy appet.i.te," Doug a.s.sured her. "They usually have character that's lacking in their more finicky counterparts."

Scout pushed her empty plate aside and relaxed more fully in her chair. "Answer a question for me, Doug."

"And what would that be?" He looked amused, but not condescending. He appeared to thoroughly enjoy conversing with the opposite s.e.x.

She hoped he was ready for her. Under normal circ.u.mstances she was very straightforward, preferring the truth over niceties. "What's a rich guy like you doing playing P.I.?"

He considered her question for a time, his good-natured expression never changing. If her bluntness annoyed him, he didn't show it.

"No offense, mind you," she added quickly. "I mean, I'm sure you're very good at your job. I'm just curious."

"None taken," he replied promptly. "Max told you?"

She almost laughed, but stifled it just in time. "Max didn't have to tell me anything. It's in your breeding, dear boy." She did laugh then, but just a little. "It's the way you speak, the way you dress and carry yourself. Very nice, don't get me wrong, but unmistakable."

He frowned briefly, then leveled a frank gaze on her. "I wanted to do more. Risking people's money for your livelihood isn't quite so stimulating as risking your life for people. I do prefer, however, to keep my background out of the equation."

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant even if she would have put it a little differently. "I understand." She stood and cleared her dishes from the table. She wanted to check on Max and, if he was awake, find out what he had planned for their next step.

Before she left the kitchen, she paused next to Doug's chair and put a rea.s.suring hand on his shoulder. "Do yourself a favor," she suggested. "If you really want to keep your background a secret, get rid of the Rolex and buy your clothes off the rack in a department store." She smiled at his surprised expression, then patted that broad shoulder. "And stop being so polite. Tough guys aren't supposed to be quite so polished."

She left Doug to make what he would of that, and padded back up the stairs. She looked first right, then left. There had to be seven or eight rooms up here. Max could be in any one of them. Might as well start on her right, she decided.

It turned out he had selected the room right across the hall from hers. She should have suspected as much; he wouldn't want to be far away. The door was open so she paused there and squinted into the darkness, trying to make out his form. He lay on the bed; that much she could tell.

When she would have stepped into the shadowy room, he spoke, "Is something wrong?" The lamp on the bedside table came on and he sat up.

She swallowed the unexpected lump that welled in her throat as her eyes took in his bare chest. He'd removed the bloodstained shirt, but he still wore the trousers. Acres of tanned, rippled flesh held her captivated for a beat too long.

"Nothing's wrong." She moved toward the bed, utilizing every fiber of courage she possessed to make the journey and then sit down next to him while still maintaining her appearance of calm. "I wanted to talk to you about what we're going to do next." She'd had time to rest, and her mind was churning with possibilities. If the lab a.n.a.lysis of the doc.u.ments they'd found in her uncle Harold's house didn't match any of the Alexon correspondence, they needed to take other measures to prove her accusations against them.

Max looked at her and she shivered. Dammit, she tried not to, but she just couldn't help it. His hair was tousled from sleep and his jaw still glittered with golden stubble. She wanted to touch him almost more than she wanted to take her next breath.

"I've decided to confront Alexon," he stated.

Her eyes rounded with disbelief. "But what if-"