Paper Rose by Diana Palmer

hesitated. “What do I tell Leta?”
    He studied his linked hands on the edge of her desk. “Good God, I haven’t the slightest idea. She had my child, and she never told me.” He closed his eyes, as if in anguish. “I had a son, and I didn’t know. I guess I’d never have known if this hadn’t come up. No wonder Jack Winthrop was so cruel to her, and to Tate.” He drew in a steadying breath. For an instant he looked defeated. Then his head lifted. “The hell of it is that my son, my only child, has to turn out to be,” he added with a return of his old spirit, black eyes flashing, “the one man in Washington, D.C. who hates my guts!”
    â€œYou weren’t too fond of him, either, if you recall,” she pointed out.
    He glared at her. “He’s hot-tempered and arrogant and stubborn!”
    â€œLook who he gets it from,” she said with a grin.
    He unlinked his hands as he considered that. “Those can be desirable traits,” he agreed with a faint smile. “Anyway, it’s nice to know I won’t die childless,” he said after a minute. He lifted his eyes to her face. “Leta can’t know any of this. When and if the time comes, I’ll tell her.”
    â€œWho’s going to tell him?” she ventured.
    â€œYou?” he suggested.
    â€œIn your dreams,” she said with a sweet smile.
    He stuffed his hands back into his pockets. “We’ll cross that bridge when the river comes over it. You’ll be careful, do you hear me? I’ve invested a lot of time and energy into hijacking you for my museum. Don’t take the slightest risk. If you think you’ve been discovered, get out and take Leta with you.”
    â€œShe’s afraid to fly,” she pointed out. “She won’t get in an airplane unless it’s an emergency.”
    â€œThen I’ll come out and stuff her into a car and drive her to the airport and put her on a plane,” he said firmly.
    She pursed her lips. He was very like Tate. “I guess you would, at that.”
    He started back toward the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Since this is my fishing expedition, I’ll have my secretary arrange for your tickets to be sent over.”
    â€œYou’ll be in front of an investigating committee for sure…”
    â€œI’m paying for them, not my office,” he interrupted. “I’m not about to take advantage of the travel budget. After all, I don’t want to tarnish my halo.”
    â€œThat’ll be the day, when you wear a halo,” she murmured dryly.
    He chuckled with amusement. “I’ll be in touch. See you.”
    â€œSee you.”
    He closed the door and Cecily sat back in her chair and stared blankly at the mass of unfinished paperwork on her desk, sharing space with some of the cultural handiwork she was acquiring for the lifestyle exhibit.
    Holden was taking it for granted that he could solve this problem without ever telling Tate the truth of his parentage, but Cecily wasn’t sure he could. It would come out sooner or later, regardless of what happened with the syndicate, if the press got wind of even a hint of impropriety. That would hurt Tate, lower his mother in his estimation and give him another reason to hate Holden. It would, also, give him a reason to hate Cecily, because she knew the truth before he did, and she hadn’t told him. He hated lies as much as she did.
    She hoped she could live with the contempt he was going to feel for her. She’d share it, she was certain, with both his parents. Leta didn’t even know that Holden knew. What a tangled web!
    But meanwhile, she was going to help Senator Holden solve his little problem and she hoped she could do it before the nasties went to the media with their show-and-tell story. She’d spent enough time around spies to know the ropes, at least. Colby had told her plenty about