Forbidden Son by Loretta C. Rogers Page A

it means, Miss Garrett?”
    She
hated the way he enunciated her name. She let her gaze wander over his shoulder
to peer through the tinted window at a dust bowl coming down the dirt road. A
pickup truck roared past, shrouding the limousine with dust.
    Honey
Belle had lost, and she knew it. “I’m sure you’re itching to tell me.”
    “In
all honesty, Miss Garret, can you imagine you or your parents at the governor’s
ball, hobnobbing with political royalty?”
    When
she didn’t answer, he added, “If you care for my son, care enough to step out
of his life.”
    He
offered the check, again. “Take it. Ten thousand is enough money to buy you and
your family a new start...in a new state.” He leaned forward as if drilling his
next point home. “I want you gone. Tomorrow.”
    His
narrowed eyes and cold scowl told Honey Belle that Tripp’s father was a
heartless man with enough power to squash people’s lives without remorse.
    Beyond
lovemaking on the beach, what did she really know about Tripp? What if he
shared the same cold and calculating traits as his father? Did she want to
spend the rest of her life with a man she might later come to hate?
    “How
did you find where I live, Judge Hartwell?”
    He
cocked an eyebrow. “Simple. I hired a private investigator.”
    She
allowed her shoulders to slump. As if the photographs weren’t belittling
enough, the Judge continued debasing her. “Everything about you is cheap, Miss
Garrett, including your name.”
    She
closed her eyes and rubbed them with her fingers. Her bones felt as if they
were slowly dissolving. Opening her eyes, she said, “What’s wrong with my
name?”
    The
way his gaze drifted over her body caused a convulsive shiver to riffle over
her.
    “Honey
Belle...has the definite ring of a fifty-dollar hooker.”
    She
shook her head in shocked disbelief. She lashed out. Before her hand found its
target, he grabbed her wrist.
    “I
am not naïve enough to believe you and my son haven’t cohabitated.” He pointed
a long slender finger toward Honey Belle. “Heed my warning, young woman, and
heed it well. If there is a seed growing inside you, make certain my son never
knows about it. Take care of it—quietly.” He arched an eyebrow. “Surely you are
smart enough to discern my meaning.”
    Feeling
the edges of her temper growing dangerously frayed, she refrained from pressing
her hands against her abdomen. Getting pregnant had never entered her mind. She
should have listened to Carla—should have used the condom the girl had offered.
Should have asked Tripp to use protection. She forced back the groan building
in her throat.
    “Your
meaning is quite clear, Judge Hartwell.”
    “Good.
Then we are in agreement that you are not worthy of my son?”
    “No,
we are not in agreement.” She forced the quiver from her voice. “What you’re
doing is wrong. You’re the one not worthy of your son.”
    Hartwell’s
face looked so stricken she was afraid he might strike her. “I assure you it
isn’t my character flaws that will concern my son, not when he sees the
pictures. Not when he learns you’ve duped him. He’ll know you for the
bloodsucking opportunist your really are.”
    He
shoved the envelope containing the check toward her. Honey Belle thought she’d
outsmart the despicable elder Hartwell. She waved the envelope in the air.
“What bank in Charleston will cash a check for this amount of money, and
especially for someone who doesn’t have a checking account?”
    “Ah,
my dear, I thought you smarter than this. Haven’t you figured out by now I know
everything about you? At best, the funds are meager. However, we both know you
have a checking account. Alas, you are correct. The bank might question whether
or not the check is forged if you try to draw funds from it.”
    He
scratched his chin as if contemplating. “Reaching into his coat pocket, he
withdrew a monogrammed gold clip with more money than Honey Belle had ever seen
in her lifetime. He