She forced a smile. No doubt her son would count down the minutes. While she understood and appreciated his excitement, nothing about this was simple for her. Especially Ethan’s understandable rage and her own growing sense of having screwed up.

But when the self-doubt threatened, she reminded herself that she had come back to tell him about Tyler. Maybe the first effort hadn’t been much, but she’d handled the second one the best she could. She even had proof that Ethan had rejected his son. Proof that might not be real.

What kind of woman kept information of a child from her husband?

In high school, Rayanne had traveled with a pack of mean girls and Liz had been one of their favorite victims. Rayanne, Pia O’Brian and a few others had delighted in making Liz’s life a nightmare. Liz might have been smart and pretty, but she’d been poor, living in a bad part of town and she’d had a reputation.

It didn’t matter that Liz hadn’t dated a single guy until Ethan. Not only had he been her first time, he’d been her first kiss. But as far as everyone in high school was concerned, Liz Sutton had been a piece of ass who put out for anyone who asked. Or paid.

There had been plenty of guys who’d claimed to have done her. She’d heard the bragging, the taunts. No one cared that it wasn’t true. No one questioned the rumors. After all, her mother was a drunk and a whore—why not her?

She shook off the past, knowing it wouldn’t help her now. She had to focus on what was happening today. Wasn’t that enough of a problem?

When they reached the house, Tyler raced into the living room to pick a movie. After searching through the collection in the small bookcase by the window, he chose one and brought it to Liz.

“It’s kind of a girl movie,” he said with a shrug, “but I haven’t seen it.”

Liz glanced at the Hannah Montana title, then ruffled his hair. “Sometimes girls are fun.”

“I guess.”

He would find out about girls being fun soon enough, she thought, watching him bolt upstairs. She’d brought the portable DVD player he used when they traveled, along with headphones. So the house would be quiet. She couldn’t use noise as an excuse not to work.

After booting up her laptop, she did a quick check of e-mail, then opened her Word document. But despite the half-written sentence and the blinking cursor, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Everyone always talked about how great she had it. That being a writer was so wonderful. She could work anywhere, at anytime. Which was, in theory, true. But there was also no one else to do the work when she wasn’t in the mood, or when life interfered, like now. No meeting to take her mind off her swirling thoughts. At this point she would happily return to her waitressing days rather than try to come up with a few good pages. But that wasn’t an option. She could only type and delete until something finally clicked or there was a miracle.

Today the miracle came in the form of someone ringing the doorbell.

Liz saved her pitiful three sentences and got up from the kitchen table. When she opened the front door, she decided miracle wasn’t exactly the right word.

Denise Hendrix, Ethan’s mother, stood on her doorstep. The woman was well dressed, fit, attractive and based on the fire spitting from her eyes, really, really upset.

“May I come in?” Denise asked, pushing past Liz and entering the shabby living room, then facing her. “We’ve never met, but I’m Ethan’s mother.”

“I know who you are.”

“And why I’m here?” Denise demanded.

As questions went, it wasn’t a difficult one. She nodded.

Denise looked around. “Where is he?”

Liz assumed she meant Tyler. “Upstairs, watching a movie.”

Denise’s gaze went to the stairs. Longing darkened her eyes, then faded as the other woman turned back to her. “Probably for the best. You and I need to talk.”

“Ethan spoke to you.” Liz made the words a statement.

“Yes, he did. He told me you’re claiming to have had his child. A child who is now eleven years old. A boy you’ve kept from his entire family.” Denise glared at her. “I told him to be nice and rational. That it would be easier if we all got along.”

“Advice you’re choosing not to take?” Liz asked, feeling defensive and understanding at the same time. Not exactly a comfortable combination of emotions.

Denise shook her head. “I should, but I can’t. You’ve damaged us all, but your boy most of all.”

Liz grabbed hold of her self-control with both hands. She’d never thought to ask Ethan to keep the information to himself. She didn’t go around talking about her private life with very many people. It didn’t occur to her that he would speak to his mother, and so quickly.

But the Hendrix family had always been close. Something she’d envied when she’d been younger. Now the warm, loving, supportive mother had been replaced by one who perceived one of her own had been wronged.

“I came back to tell Ethan I was pregnant,” Liz countered, knowing there wasn’t actually any point in defending herself, but unable to stop. “I’d been gone about two months. I found him in bed with someone else.”

Denise frowned. “Which I’m sure was very painful, but not an excuse to keep that kind of information from him. He was a father. He had the right to know.”

Liz drew in a breath. “You’re right. He did. Which is why I came back five years ago to tell him. He wasn’t home and I spoke to his wife. I told Rayanne everything and she promised to tell him. Less than two weeks later, I received a letter from Ethan telling me that he wanted nothing to do with me or Tyler. That I should keep away from him and Fool’s Gold. I’m having the letter sent overnight and it will be here tomorrow. I’m happy to give you a copy.”

Liz reached for the door and pulled it open. “So if you’ve only come here to insult me or accuse me of everything from being a whore to tricking your precious son, then I’m done with this conversation.”

“I have a lot more to say.”

“This may be a crappy little house, Denise, but it belongs to my family, not yours. I’m asking you to leave.”

Denise hesitated. She had dark eyes like her son. Like Tyler. Emotions flashed through them.

“He told me about the letter,” Denise said grudgingly. “Ethan may not want to believe Rayanne lied to him, but it sounds exactly like her. If there was a problem she didn’t want to face, she avoided it. You having Ethan’s son would have been a big problem.”

Was that a peace offering? Like it or not, this woman was Tyler’s grandmother.

Liz crossed to her laptop and hit a few keys, then she turned the computer so the screen faced Denise.

The older woman’s mouth dropped open. Color bled away and her eyes widened. She stared greedily at the slide show Liz had started. All the pictures were of Tyler.

“He looks just like Ethan did when he was young. Like all my boys.” Her breath caught. “His smile is different.”

“It’s mine.”

Denise glanced at her, then back at the computer. “He’s eleven?”

“Yes.”

“This changes everything.”

Liz didn’t know if she meant the fact that they now knew about Tyler, or the fairly obvious proof he was a Hendrix. “I know you don’t believe me, but I never wanted to keep Tyler from his father. I did try to tell him. The first time was a poor effort, but the second, I really thought he knew.”

“I believe you,” Denise said slowly. “But I can’t help being angry. We can’t get back all the time that was lost.”

Liz thought about pointing out that Ethan had been the one to sleep with her, to take her virginity, promise to love her forever, then dump her. That when she’d run, he hadn’t bothered to come after her. It was as if she’d never mattered at all.

“Are you going to keep him from us?” Denise asked, sounding both defiant and afraid.

“No. I never wanted that. My life with Tyler wasn’t about punishing anyone. He would like to have a big family.”

“He could have had one all along,” Denise snapped.

“And your son could have been more responsible.”

“Don’t bring Ethan into this.”

“Right. Because I got pregnant all on my own. That whole slut thing, right?”

Denise pressed her lips together. “No. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate that, but I have things to do.” The door was still open. Liz glanced toward it. “We can continue this another time,” she elaborated. “After I talk to Ethan.”

Denise hesitated, then nodded and left.

Liz closed the door and leaned against it. Talk about a tough twenty-four hours, and it wasn’t over yet.

EXACTLY AT SIX, ETHAN KNOCKED on Liz’s front door. Her SUV was still in the driveway. He’d checked on it a couple times during the day. Not that he actually thought she would leave, but he wanted to be sure.

The door opened and Liz stood there, glaring at him. “Right on time,” she snapped. “Probably because you’re so damn rested, having sent your mother to take care of things for you.”

She looked good. All fire and temper, her green eyes flashing. He was caught up in the sight of the freckles he’d remembered. In the dark, he’d been unable to see them, but now he could count them easily. So it took a second for her words to register.

“My mother?”

“She was here earlier. It was great. Because you yelling at me isn’t enough of a thrill.”

He grimaced. “I didn’t tell her to come by.”

“You didn’t have to. The Hendrixes all stick together. It was that way years ago and nothing has changed. You told her about me and Tyler, and she showed up. Are you really going to stand there and say you’re shocked?”

“No,” he conceded. “It’s totally her style. For what it’s worth, she’s the one who told me to be rational and reasonable.”

“It’s not worth very much.” She rubbed her temple. “I have to admit in all the years I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to have you involved in Tyler’s life, I never thought of having to deal with your mother.”

“She’ll do anything for the people she loves.”

“Like I’m getting on that list?”

“You know she’ll be there for Tyler.”

“A small consolation,” Liz said. “Right now the only thing I’m grateful for is the fact that she didn’t have time to tell me what having your son is going to mean to the Hendrix family name. How we’ll have to make sure we act right all the time and do the right thing, so the legacy isn’t tarnished.” She took a step. “Come on. He’s waiting to meet you.”

Ethan followed her in. He wanted to ask what she’d told Tyler, what his son was expecting. All day he’d imagined what he was supposed to say or do, how to make it everything Tyler wanted the moment to be. Before he could ask, or even swallow the sudden surge of anger that followed the concern, she stopped and turned to face him.

“He’s really excited and a little scared. I told him some about you—what you do, that sort of thing. Please remember however you feel about what happened, he’s not to blame.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“He’s my son,” she reiterated, staring into his eyes. “I’ll do anything to keep him safe.”

A claim Ethan hadn’t been able to make until now, he thought, knowing he couldn’t dwell on the unfairness of the situation. Tyler was the important one here. The one who had to be protected.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” he said gruffly.

She sighed. “Just be careful. The ability to hurt someone is usually in direct proportion to how much that person cares about you.”

She moved into the living room, then called up the stairs. “Tyler. Your dad is here.”

Ethan braced himself for emotional impact. He heard slow footsteps on the stairs, then his son came into view.

Any doubts he might have had about paternity died the second he saw Tyler. The boy was all Hendrix. From the dark hair and eyes to the shape of his head. He looked like Ethan’s younger brothers had when they’d been kids.

An unexpected rise of emotion made it tough to talk. He was filled with longing and sadness, as well as wonder. His kid. How had this happened without him guessing Tyler was alive?

Liz waited until the boy stepped into the living room, then moved behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Tyler, this is your dad, Ethan Hendrix. Ethan, this is Tyler.”

“Hi,” Tyler said, sounding uncertain. He stared at Ethan, then glanced away, before looking back.

“I was telling Tyler about how you used to ride bikes when you were younger.”

Ethan appreciated the help, even as he resented the need for it. “I was about your age,” he said. “My friend Josh had to ride to help his legs get stronger. We had a lot of fun together. In high school, we started racing competitively.”

Tyler stared at him, wide-eyed. “You grew up here?”

Ethan nodded. “All my life. I come from a big family. I went away to college, but when I graduated, I moved back home.”

“Mom says you have brothers and sisters.”

“Two brothers, three sisters. My sisters are identical triplets.”

“So you can’t tell them apart?”

He smiled. “It was hard when they were younger, but now they’re pretty different.”