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  "No." Jason let her know. Not easily. But he finally got out the denial. "You didn't miscarry."

  With her eyes suddenly dark and wide with concern, Lilly opened her mouth. Closed it. Frantically shook her head. "What do you mean no?" The question was all breath. Not a hint of sound. Yet Jason heard it clearly.

  "Your injuries were mainly caused by a piece of metal railing that came through the windshield," Jason explained. "It hit you on the head, caused some major trauma. The airbag stopped any impact damage in your midsection and probably prevented you from miscarrying."

  She didn't have much color in her face, but what was there, drained completely. Her bottom lip began to tremble. "I don't understand."

  Jason waited a moment, until he stood a chance of his voice being steady. It wasn't a hundred percent, but under the circumstances, it was the best he could do. "You carried the baby full term, and then the doctors delivered it via C-section."

  "Are you saying…" But she didn't finish. Mumbling something indistinguishable, she dropped back onto the pillows and her eyelids fluttered down.

  Since Jason needed to end this conversation right here, right now, he just tossed it out there. Quickly. Before he could change his mind, turn and leave. "You had a baby, Lilly. Nearly a year ago."

  She lay there. Not moving. Except for her lips. She continued to mumble something. A prayer, maybe. Then she opened her eyes. Slowly. As if she dreaded what she might see on his face.

  "Had?" she repeated, obviously latching on to his use of the past tense. A tear streaked down her cheek.

  A real honest-to-goodness tear.

  In the six years he'd known her, he'd never seen Lilly cry. Oh, man. This was ripping them both to pieces—but for different reasons, of course.

  Jason couldn't stand that look of undiluted pain on her face, so he put an end to it. "Not had, Lilly," he corrected. "You have a baby. A daughter."

  Chapter Two

  If it'd been any person other than Jason Lawrence telling her this, Lilly might have thought it was a joke. But this no-shades-of-gray cop wasn't the joking type. Heck, she wasn't even sure he was the smiling type. Still—

  A baby.

  How could that be?

  If this was the truth, then she would have been…what? She quickly did the math. She would have been two months pregnant when she was involved in the car accident. Two months, as in sixty days.

  Yet she hadn't known.

  How could she have not known?

  Her life had always been so organized. She'd known every appointment, every deadline. So, how could a missed period or two have escaped her notice?

  Almost hysterically, Lilly slapped the plastic cup onto the table beside her bed so she could pinch herself. Hard. She felt it all right, the sting of the pressure on her skin. But that wasn't definitive. Maybe she was still in a coma. Maybe she was dreaming about a pinch and a pregnancy.

  Yes.

  That was it. This had to be some weird dream, even though she couldn't recall a single instance of a dream the entire time she'd been in a coma.

  "It's for real," Jason volunteered as if he could hear the argument going on in her head.

  He walked toward her, slowly, and held out his arm. Probably so she could touch him. Because she didn't know what else to do, Lilly took him up on that offer. She reached out. Dreading, hoping and praying all at the same time. Her fingertips brushed against the smooth fabric of his bronze-colored jacket, which was nearly the same color as his short, efficient hair.

  The jacket felt like…well, a jacket.

  But Lilly went one step further. She slid her fingers over the back of his hand. Warm, human skin. Comforting in a primal sort of way.

  And maybe in other ways, too.

  She suddenly wanted to latch on to his hand, and it wasn't totally related to her need to make sure she was truly conscious. Simply put, she needed a hug. Mercy, did she ever. Even though she was twenty-seven—no, make that twenty-nine—she suddenly felt as fragile as a newborn baby.

  Ironic.

  Since a baby was the exact topic of conversation that'd sent her heart and thoughts into a tailspin.

  Lilly met Jason's gaze again, to see how he was reacting to all of this touching stuff, but whatever he was feeling, he kept it carefully hidden in the depths of those smoke-gray eyes. No surprise there. She'd always believed Jason was born to be a cop.

  Or a professional poker player.

  Because that rugged stoic face gave away nothing. The only time she'd ever seen an overt display of emotion from him was the night his brother, Greg, had died. Understandable. She'd had an overt display of her own.

  Well, afterward, anyway.

  When Jason had gone and she had been alone.

  "Are you okay?" Jason asked.

  Lilly didn't even consider a polite lie. "No. I'm not. It's hard to be okay when nothing makes sense."

  She moved on to part three of the reality check. Not knowing what to hope she might see, Lilly clutched the hem of her roomy green hospital gown and jerked it up. Thank goodness she was wearing panties or Jason would have gotten a real eyeful. But even if she hadn't had on underwear, she would have looked anyway. She needed proof.

  And she got it.

  She slid her fingertips over the thin, pinkish-colored scar. Right on her lower abdomen. Not some ragged wound caused by an injury, but clearly the result of surgery.

  A C-section.

  Jason leaned in closer. So close. Too close. He caught her gown and eased it back into place so that the soft cotton whispered over her thighs. Probably because her near nudity bothered him.

  No, wait.

  He didn't think of her that way. He'd covered her probably because further examination wasn't necessary. She had all the proof she needed.

  Reality check was over. Now it was time to deal with the aftermath. And she dealt, all right. The breath swooshed out of her and because she didn't want any tears to escape, Lilly squeezed her eyes shut.

  "A daughter?" she said.

  "Yes." Jason's voice was tight. Edgy. Exactly the way she felt.

  He didn't add anything else, and it didn't take long for the smothering silence to settle uncomfortably between them. Lilly used that quiet time to try to put a stranglehold on her composure, to try to grasp what was happening.

  But both were impossible tasks.

  Only two hours earlier she'd awakened to learn that she'd lost nineteen months of life because of a car accident that she couldn't even remember. Nineteen months. Heaven knew what toll the coma had taken on her body. And there was the inevitable toll that her absence had no doubt taken on her business. Sweet heaven, she'd lost so much. Now, Jason had informed her that she'd been pregnant and delivered a baby.

  A baby who was almost a year old.

  "Her name is Megan," she heard Jason say.

  At the sound of some movement, Lilly opened her eyes to find him searching through his wallet. He extracted something. A photograph that was a bit crumpled around the edges. He held it up so she could see it.

  Her mouth went dry.

  She took the picture, hesitantly, and pulled it closer to her so she could study it. The little girl had auburn hair. Not quite a genetic copy of Lilly's own, but close. Darn close. It wasn't straight but instead haloed her face in soft, loose curls. Just as Lilly's own hair had done when she was that age.

  Lilly caught her bottom lip between her teeth to cut off any unwanted sound she might make. At this point, any sound would be unwanted. And too revealing.

  In the photograph, Megan was smiling. Not a tentative one, either. It went all the way to her eyes.

  "Oh, mercy," she whispered. Lilly pressed the picture to her chest.

  This precious child was hers.

  The connection she felt for Megan was instant. Not a gentle tug of her heart, either, but a feeling so intense, so right, that the tears she'd fought came anyway. Lilly didn't even care that she was losing control. Seeing that tiny face was worth all the tears. It
was worth humiliating herself in front of Jason. Worth the coma.

  Worth everything.

  Her baby.

  Her own flesh and blood.

  "I've missed so much," she mumbled, knowing it was a total understatement. She'd missed carrying her child. Giving birth. And most importantly, she had missed nearly the entire first year of her daughter's life.

  "Yes," Jason whispered.

  Since there was a lot of emotion in his one-word comment, Lilly looked at him again. He still had on his cop's face, but those eyes said it all. Or at least they said something. Exactly what that something was, she didn't know.

  Unless…

  "She's Greg's baby," Lilly clarified. Why, she didn't know. She didn't need to explain her sex life to Jason.

  He nodded. "The doctors did a DNA test on Megan after she was born."

  What a waste of time. If Lilly had been awake during Megan's birth, she could have told them there was no reason for such a test. Before that night with Greg, it'd been nearly a year since she'd had sex. And that one time with Greg hadn't been unprotected, either, which meant something had gone wrong with the condom.

  And then it hit her.

  Her heart practically leaped to her throat. "Who has her? Both Greg's and my parents are dead—"

  "I have her," Jason interrupted.

  Lilly was surprised that her heart didn't jump right out of her chest. It was already pounding, and his statement made it pound even harder. "You?"

  That improved his posture. Not that he needed it. He was already soldier-stiff, which was his usual demeanor, but Jason seemed to take her simple question as a challenge.

  "Me," he enunciated through semiclenched teeth.

  Oh.

  Even with his adamant confirmation, it just didn't register in her brain and was in total conflict with the image she had of Jason Lawrence.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets; it seemed as if he changed his mind a dozen times as to what he was about to say. "You were in a coma so long that the doctors didn't think you would recover. I didn't think you'd recover. I was Megan's next of kin."

  There was something in the way he said that. Especially the tone he used when he tossed out the last part. Next of kin. Something…territorial? Something that launched a flurry of mental speculation.

  And it also launched an equal flurry of concern.

  A moment later Lilly realized that her concern was warranted.

  "I have custody of her," Jason finished. He paused a moment. "Legally, Megan is my daughter."

  Chapter Three

  Jason braced himself for Lilly's reaction. Or rather, he tried to. It was hard to brace himself for something he wasn't sure he could handle.

  "Oh, God," Lilly mumbled. Not exactly the hostile accusation that he thought she might fire in his direction. After all, he'd just confessed to claiming her child. "You took Megan in. You've been raising her."

  It was a lot more than that. Yes, he'd taken the child in. Yes, he was raising her. But he also loved her. More than life. More than anything.

  And he couldn't lose her.

  "I'll bet taking care of a baby required some serious lifestyle changes for you," Lilly commented. Not chitchat, though. Her eyes were too strained for that, and there was a slight tremble in her voice—which probably meant she was as thunderstruck as he was.

  She'd just learned that she had a daughter.

  And Jason had just learned that he might lose one.

  "I made a few lifestyle changes," he admitted. He tried to rein in his feelings. Failed. "It was worth it. Megan's a sweet kid."

  Now there was a reaction from Lilly. Something small and subtle. But he could almost see the realization come to her. She'd had a child, but for all practical purposes, she wasn't in the picture.

  Jason didn't think it was much of a stretch that Lilly would soon want to change that.

  "Well…" Lilly started. But she didn't finish whatever thought she'd intended to voice. Instead she looked down at the picture. She held it as if it were delicate crystal that might shatter in her hands. "She has my hair. Greg's eyes, though." She lifted a shoulder. An attempt at a nonchalant shrug. But there was nothing nonchalant about any of this. "Your eyes, too."

  Yes. The infamous Lawrence gray eyes that seemed to be the equivalent of a mood ring. Silvery pearl, sometimes, and on those not-so-good sometimes—gunmetal and steel. Megan had them in spades, along with the olive-tinged completion that was the genetic contribution from Greg's and his Hispanic grandmother. Megan was a Lawrence through and through.

  But Jason could see Lilly in the child's face, too. The way Megan sometimes defiantly lifted her chin. The sly, clever smile that could melt away botched cases, heavy workloads, long hours at work and other unsavory things. At first, it'd been difficult for him to see the smile, Lilly's smile, on the mouth of the child he loved.

  DNA sure had a bent sense of humor.

  "I want to see her, of course," Lilly said.

  It wasn't exactly a request, either. She certainly hadn't framed it with a please and hadn't left room for argument.

  Though Jason wanted to argue.

  Worse, he wanted to take Megan and run. To hide her so that he wouldn't lose her. But not only was that a stupid reaction, it would be wrong. He'd been the one to raise Megan—so far—but now that Lilly was awake and on the road to recovery, he no longer had sole claim to her.

  Maybe he wouldn't have any claim at all.

  And that sent a stab of pain straight through his heart.

  "I'll make arrangements for you to see her," Jason offered, once he could speak. "When you're feeling up to it."

  There was a flash of that sly smile, and it was tinged with sarcasm. "I think it's safe to say that I'll feel up to seeing her anytime, any place. After all, she is my daughter."

  Jason had somehow known, and feared, that she would say that. "I just wasn't sure you'd want her to visit you here in the hospital."

  It wasn't a lie. Exactly. That had crossed his mind. It'd also crossed his mind that he wanted to delay the visit so he could prepare Megan. How, he didn't know. It wasn't always easy to reason with a baby. But perhaps he could show Megan pictures of Lilly so she wouldn't be frightened of meeting a stranger who just happened to be her mother.

  Picture recognition might help Megan. But it wouldn't do much to soothe his fears. Nothing could do that.

  "Besides, it's late," Jason added. "Nearly six."

  And he was babbling. Hell. He wasn't a babbler. Worse, he seemed to be grasping at straws, at anything, to postpone what he knew he couldn't postpone.

  "All right," Lilly said. She kept her attention staked to him. "This definitely qualifies as an awkward moment. We're a lot closer to being enemies than we are friends, and yet you did this incredible, wonderful thing by taking in my—"

  "Don't," Jason interrupted. He took a moment to gain control of his voice, and his temper, before he continued. "I don't want your thanks." He could handle her hostility, even her sarcasm, even that damn sly smile, before he could handle her gratitude. "I said I'd arrange for you to see Megan, and I will."

  Lilly nodded. "I might not be reading you right, but I get the feeling there's something else. Something you're not telling me."

  Well, the coma hadn't dulled her instincts. That was both good and bad news. He wanted Lilly to be healthy and on the road to recovery. He truly did. But Jason had been counting on having a few days or even weeks before having to tell her everything. Not just about Megan and his custody. Other things, like the events surrounding the night she'd nearly died.

  Panic began to race through her eyes. "Is Megan okay? There's nothing wrong with—"

  "Megan's perfectly healthy," he told her. "She's had normal childhood illnesses, of course. An ear infection. A cold or two. Nothing major."

  The pulse on her neck was pounding so hard that Jason could actually see it. "However?" she questioned.

  Yes, there was a however.

  Jason consider
ed the several ways he could go with this, including just ending the conversation and heading out. If he followed department regulations to a tee, he should just turn this over to the lead detective. But he couldn't do that to Lilly. Despite their past and the inevitable obstacles they would no doubt face in the future, there was some information she needed to know.

  The operative word was some.

  Jason groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. "The police will want to question you about the car accident."

  Her brief silence probably meant she was processing that. Not just his comment but his groan, as well. She leaned closer. So close that he could see all those swirls of blue and green in her eyes. "Are you saying they weren't able to figure out what happened?"

  It was touchy territory and, as Jason had done several times during their conversation, he considered his answer carefully. "They'll want an eyewitness statement to the incident, and you're the ultimate eyewitness. It's standard procedure." He hesitated, gathered his breath. "They also want to talk to you about the information you found when you were going through your father's old business records."

  "You mean, the computer files that implicated some people in my father's dirty dealings?" Lilly didn't wait for him to confirm that. "I remember copying those files to a CD."

  "Yes. You'd called a friend in S.A.P.D. and told him about them."

  "Sergeant Garrett O'Malley." Lilly touched her fingers to her left temple and massaged it gently. At first. Then, as the frustration began to show on her face, her massage got a little harder until her fingers pressed into her skin. "After I copied the files, things get a little fuzzy."

  Jason latched right on to that because even though her memory might not be totally intact, she still might be able to provide them with some critical details. "Just how fuzzy is fuzzy?"

  "A big, giant blur." The temple massage obviously wasn't working so she stopped and huffed. "Did I give the CD to Sgt. O'Malley?"

  He shook his head. "But you'd planned to do that the next morning."