Sweet Deception

“Are you all right?” asked a deep voice in the dimly lit space.

She didn’t know if she was dreaming or hallucinating, because she couldn’t believe she was in bed with Myles Eaton. “Is that you, Myles?”

The seconds ticked. “Yes, it is. Who were you expecting? Bailey Mercer?”

Turning over and pressing her face to the pillow, Zabrina muffled a moan. “That’s not funny.”

“What’s not funny, Brina, is you drinking until you nearly passed out.”

“I didn’t pass out.”

“No, but you were asleep before I got you into bed. You’re lucky it was me and not your redheaded admirer. There was the possibility that he could’ve taken advantage of you.”

Zabrina ignored the reference to the man who’d become her dinner partner. She sat up again, pulling the sheet up to her chin. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my hotel room.” Rolling over, Myles turned on the lamp on his side of the bed. The glowing numbers on the clock-radio read 1:22 a.m. “What time do you have to pick up your son?”

“Adam’s in Virginia with my aunt’s grandchildren.”

Myles froze for a beat. He glanced over his shoulder to see the haunted golden eyes staring back at him. “You named Cooper’s son Adam?”

A pregnant silence filled the space as Zabrina tried to form her thoughts. If she hadn’t been under the influence she would’ve been able to spar verbally with Myles, but not now. She knew how persuasive he could be once he set his mind to something. That was what had made him an incredible trial attorney. He’d ask the same question ten different ways in an attempt to agitate and confuse a witness, and if she wasn’t careful he would trip her up and uncover the truth about her son’s paternity.

What frightened her most was Myles finding out that she’d had his child and passed it off as Thomas Cooper’s. Although Adam’s birth certificate listed Thomas Cooper as his father, Myles still had the law on his side if or when he decided to sue her for custody.

“I named my son Adam.”

Myles ran a hand over his face. Zabrina had admitted to him that Adam was her favorite boy’s name even before he’d told her it was his middle name. “Wasn’t he also Cooper’s son?”

“He was never Thomas’s son. He was always too busy pressing the flesh and seeing to the needs of his constituents to play daddy even though Adam practically worshipped the ground Thomas walked on.” She emitted a soft sigh. “I suppose not every man who’s a father is father material.”

“What about you, Brina?”

“What about me?”

“How are you coping with the loss of your husband?”

Zabrina’s fingers tightened on the sheet clutched to her chest at the same time she affected a wry smile. “You see how I’m coping, Myles. I’ve become the merry widow. I know I can’t handle more than one drink, but that didn’t stop me from having three. That’s how I’m coping,” she spat out.

“Do you drink in front of your son?”

“You think I’ve become an alcoholic, don’t you?”

Myles shook his head. “I didn’t say that, Zabrina.”

“But isn’t that what you’re implying, Myles?”

“No, it’s not.” Gathering the sheet, Zabrina tried getting out of bed, but Myles thwarted her attempt to escape him when his hand went around her upper arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going home!”

One second she was sitting half on and half off the bed and within the next she found herself sprawled on her back, Myles straddling her. “I don’t think so. Your son just lost his father. Do you want him to lose his mother, too?” He’d bared his teeth like a snarling canine. “If you try to walk out of here in the condition that you’re in, then I’ll call the police and have you locked up.”

He hadn’t wanted to remind Zabrina that less than a year ago the Eatons and Rices had buried their daughter and son after they’d died in a head-on collision with a drunk driver. The loss of his sister and brother-in-law was devastating to both families. Whenever he returned to Philadelphia, Myles always expected to see Donna’s inviting smile and infectious laughter.

Zabrina’s eyes filled with tears and overflowed, tears she hadn’t been able to shed after the police had arrived at her home to tell her that her husband had drowned in a boating accident off the Chesapeake. The media was respectful of her grief when told by the Coopers’ housekeeper that the reclusive widow of Pennsylvania’s junior senator was too distraught to conduct an interview. She’d gone into hiding again, resurfacing six months later at a fundraising event for mayoral candidate Patrick Garson.

She’d given Thomas Cooper nearly ten years of her life and six months was long enough for her to pretend to be the grieving widow. She didn’t cry for Thomas because she didn’t want to be a hypocrite. She hadn’t lied to Belinda at the fundraiser when she’d told her that she hated Thomas as much as she loved her brother.