terrace, making sketches of the exterior of The Towers. He wanted to add another outside stairway without disturbing the integrity of the building. He stopped when Suzanna came out carrying two wicker baskets pregnant with spring flowers.
"I'm sorry." She hesitated, then tried a smile. "I didn't know you were out here. I'm going to set things up for the shower."
"I'll be out of your way in a minute."
"That's all right." She set the basket down and went back inside.
Over the next few minutes, she went back and forth, carrying out chairs and paper decorations. They passed the time in nerve-racking silence until she finally set aside one of Amanda's swans and looked at him.
"Mr. O'Riley, have we met before?" He kept right on sketching. "No."
"I wondered because you seemed to know me, and have a poor opinion of me."
His gaze lifted coldly to hers. "I don't know you - Mrs. Dumont."
"Then why - " She broke off. She hated confrontations, the way they tightened up her stomach muscles. Turning away, she started back inside. She could feel his eyes on her, icy and resentful. After bracing a hand on the jamb, she forced herself to turn back. "No, I'm not going to do this. You're in my home, Mr. O'Riley, and I refuse to walk on eggshells in my own home ever again. Now I want to know what your problem is."
He tossed his sketch pad onto a small glass-topped table. "The name doesn't ring any bells with you, Mrs. Dumont? O'Riley doesn't strike a chord?"
"No, why should it?"
His mouth tightened. "Maybe if I add a name to it. Megan. Megan O'Riley. Hear any bells now?"
"No." Frustrated, she pushed a hand through her hair. "Will you get to the point?"
"I guess it's easy for someone like you to forget. She wasn't anyone to you but a slight inconvenience."
"Who?"
"Megan. My sister, Megan."
Completely lost, Suzanna shook her head. "I don't know your sister."
The fact that the name meant nothing to her only infuriated him. Sloan stepped toward her, ignoring the quick fear in her eyes. "No, you never met her face-to-face. Why bother? You managed to see that she was pushed aside easily enough. Not that you ended up with any prize. Baxter Dumont was always a bastard, but she loved him."
"Your sister?" Suzanna lifted an unsteady hand to rub at her temple. "Your sister and Bax."
"Starting to get through?" When she started to turn away, he grabbed her arm and whirled her back. "Was it for love or money?" he demanded. "Either way, you could have shown some compassion. Damn it, she was seventeen and pregnant. Couldn't you have stood back far enough to let the spineless sonofabitch see his son?"
She'd gone a translucent shade of white. Under his hand, her arm seemed to turn to water. "Son," she whispered.
"She was just a kid, a terrified kid who'd believed every lie he'd told her. I wanted to kill him, but it would only have made it worse for Meg. But you, you couldn't even find it in your heart to give her the scraps from the table. You went right ahead with your fancy life as if she and the boy didn't exist. And when she called and begged you just to let him see the boy once or twice a year, you called her a whore and threatened to have her son taken away if she ever contacted your precious husband again."
She couldn't get her breath. Not since her last hideous argument with Bax had she found it so difficult to breathe. Weakly she batted at the hand that held her arm. "Please. Please, I need to sit down."
But he was staring at her. As the impetus of his own rage ebbed he could see that it wasn't shame in her eyes, it wasn't derision or even anger. It was pure shock. "My God," he said quietly, "you didn't know."
All she could do was shake her head. When his grip loosened, she turned and bolted into the house. Sloan stood for a moment, pressing his fingers against his eyes. All the disgust he had felt for Suzanna turned sharply on himself. He started after her and ran into a furious Amanda in the doorway.
"What did you do to her?" With both hands she shoved him back. "What the hell did you say to her to make her cry like that?"
The fist in his stomach squeezed tighter. "Where did she go?"
"You're not getting near her again. When I think that I'd