Just a Little Misgiving (Shades of Deception, Book 3)

Just a Little Misgiving

Shades of Deception

Book Three

by

Mallory Rush

Bestselling, Award-winning Author

Previously titled: Behind Closed Doors

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ISBN: 978-1-61417-420-2

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Chapter 1

"Maybe we won't be sick today, baby," Faith Taylor whispered, smiling down at her belly. Sitting in her kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and nibbling on a cracker, Faith focused on sensations that were still new to her: the feeling of wonder that made her want to laugh and cry all at once; the tingling in her tender, rapidly swelling breasts; the heightening of her sense of smell.

She stared at the snow that wrapped the Colorado mountain in a shroud of winter white. Yet the baby inside her was a warm, sweet companion, a comforting contrast to the cold outside. How fitting it seemed that this new life had begun since another had ended, she thought. Her sister, Gloria, had passed away six weeks earlier, but the baby that had been growing within Faith for over three months still linked them together in a very real way. That she had selfishly kept her pregnancy a secret from the baby's father was something she refused to worry about then.

Suddenly the front-door buzzer shrilled several times in rapid succession, startling Faith. She quickly got to her feet and made her way through her home, sidestepping a drafting table with her graphic designs. Another table stood nearby with a mound of unformed sculpting clay. Beside it was a second mound she kept covered with a dropcloth for personal reasons.

She reached the front door in time to hear a fist bang twice on the other side, and immediately looked through the peephole.

It was a man, but his image was too distorted for her to identify.

"Who is it?" she demanded. An instinct to protect made her press a hand over her belly.

"It's me, Myles," a familiar voice answered. "Open the door. Faith. It's important."

"Myles," she whispered, feeling her stomach sink at the same time her heart rose to her throat.

She braced herself to face him. What in heaven's name could have brought him here? He couldn't possibly know about the baby, no more than he could know the secrets of her heart, of the hidden chamber he occupied there.

"Open up, Faith!"

She took a deep breath and flung the door open. "Myles," she said brightly, hoping her nervous smile passed for calm and the color she could feel bloom in her cheeks would go unnoticed. "What are you doing here? Denver's an awfully long way from Detroit and your dream machines on wheels."

For a moment he just stood there saying nothing, his eyes locking with hers. There was the uneasiness she always felt between them, something that could never be explored. Then, unable to help herself, she let her gaze rove where her hands didn't dare.

His sun-streaked hair was longer than usual, and it suited him, but there were flecks of gray she hadn't seen at the funeral. His tan was fading, and his cheeks were ruddy from the brisk wind. He was leaner now, his cheeks more hollow. Her palms tingled with the forbidden impulse to stroke and soothe away his tension, which was evident by the way he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

That was the first giveaway. Something was very wrong. He looked seductively rumpled, as though he'd just crawled out of bed after one hellacious night. He wasn't clean shaven but sported two days' untrimmed growth. His open leather jacket revealed a wrinkled flannel shirt with a button missing just above the fly on his faded jeans.