Playing Dirty by Jamie Ann Denton Read Free Book Online Page B

cutthroat, underhanded bullies. Then one afternoon, she’d witnessed him in court. There, before a jury, cross-examining a witness, she’d seen a different side to Trenton, a fierce, determined, relentless advocate in pursuit of the truth. In that moment, she’d known he was the right guy for her, for one simple reason—she was a sucker for an Alpha male.  
    Just like Ford.
    She bit the inside of her lower lip. Maybe he was like Ford, at least in that respect. But what had initially attracted her to Trenton had been in the ways he was different from her supposedly dead husband. For one, Trenton didn’t carry the death wish gene. He didn’t rush off to top secret locations to do things he couldn’t tell her about. With Trenton, she knew where he was every night—when he wasn’t at his high-rise condo in Dallas, or away on business, he was with her and Phoebe in Hart.
    She left the shower and dried off. As she dressed in a pair of denim capris and a loose fitting, ruffled-front, sleeveless top, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she and Trenton had managed to create a child together during their honeymoon. They had planned to start a family right away so she’d gone off birth control two months before the wedding. Once she’d accepted that Ford was never coming back, she’d deeply regretted they hadn’t started having babies sooner. No way was she brave enough to tempt fate a second time, so she and Trenton had decided not to wait. She could tough it out for a week to see if she missed her period, or she could slip away to the drug store and purchase an early detection pregnancy test.  
    And when she knew the outcome, then what?  
    She dragged a brush through her hair, snagging on a tangle. If she was pregnant, would Ford even consider helping her raise another man’s child? On the other hand, would he allow Trenton to raise Phoebe? A big ol’ Hell-to-the-No instantly sprang to mind.  
    If she was pregnant, she doubted Trenton would want Ford raising his child. The possibilities and complications were endless and made her head throb. The one thing she didn’t question was Trenton’s willingness to be a step-father to her daughter. The two of them adored each other.  
    She pulled her hair into a ponytail, slipped into a pair of turquoise-studded flip-flops, then went back into the bedroom and straightened the covers on the bed. The midday sun coming through the window warmed her skin. The shudder and groan from the pipes to the bathroom down the hall rattled. She couldn’t be certain if it was Ford or Trenton in the shower, but she needed a minute alone to talk with Trenton. The last thing she wanted was Ford interrupting them.
    She hurried down the hall and stood outside the bathroom door. Once she heard the shower door slide closed, she headed for the study. Without bothering to knock, she entered. The black-out curtains were drawn against the sunlight, and she peered into the semi-darkness of the room to find the day bed empty.  
    “Trenton?” she called out quietly.
    “Over here.”
    She followed the sound of his voice and found him behind the desk in the far corner of the room, seated in the antique chair her sister had found for her at an estate sale a few years ago. “Did you sleep?”
    “A little,” he said.
    She quietly closed the door and crossed the room. Crouching in front of him, she settled her hand on his thigh. He looked terrible. His hair was mussed and tight lines bracketed his eyes and mouth. She hated that she was the one responsible for the stress lining his handsome face.
    “I’m so sorry,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”
    He covered her hand with his, and she took comfort in his touch. Trenton was steady, dependable. Strong.
    “None of this is your fault,” he said. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
    “What are we going to do?”
    He made a sound, somewhere between a grunt of disgust and a