In Every Stranger's Face: Superstars with Secret Babies, #4

By Ann Major

"Want it all? Read Ann Major."  Nora Roberts

 

"From the infant stages of the romance genre Ann Major has been a significant contributor. Her name on the cover instantly identifies the book as a good read."—Sandra Brown

 

From USA Today bestselling author Ann Major… Feel the drama and passion of her Superstars with Secret Babies miniseries.

 

In Every Stranger's Face

 

Extraordinary, dashing, intense and talented, Jordan compelled Gini King as no other man ever could.

But she was a teacher. And he was a rock star. Not knowing she was pregnant, she'd divorced him because she loved him too much to stand in his way.

 

Now—years later, because of their secret daughter, Jordan's back in Gini's life, causing Gini's emotions to rocket out of control.

He wants his daughter and his wife forever, and this time he's determined to have his way.

But nothing's changed. He's world-famous, and she's still an ordinary woman.

Can their unforgettable love find a way?

 

Other books in the Superstars with Secret Babies series:

 

Her Forbidden Bodyguard (Book 1)

A Knight in Tarnished Armor (Book 2)

Dream Come True (Book 3)

In Every Stranger's Face (Book 4)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Major Press LLC
• Release date: Dec 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781942473336

Ann Major

Besides writing, Ann enjoys her husband, kids, grandchildren, cats, hobbies, and travels. A Texan, Ann holds a B.A. from UT, and an M.A. from Texas A & M. A former teacher on both the secondary and college levels, Ann is an experienced speaker. She's written over 60 books for Dell, Silhouette Romance, Special Edition, Intimate Moments, Desire and Mira and frequently makes bestseller lists.

Book preview

Book Description:

Extraordinary, dashing, intense and talented, Jordan compelled Gini King as no other man ever could.

But she was a teacher. And he was a rock star. Not knowing she was pregnant, she’d divorced him because she loved him too much to stand in his way.

Now—years later, because of their secret daughter, Jordan’s back in Gini’s life, causing Gini’s emotions to rocket out of control.

He wants his daughter and his wife forever, and this time he’s determined to have his way.

But nothing’s changed. He’s world-famous, and she’s still an ordinary woman.

Can Gini trust in love to find a way?

I’ve Lived in Hell Since You Left Me, Gini,

he whispered hoarsely as his tongue ravished her mouth. She was as sweet as honey. I never stopped loving you. No one, nothing, has ever filled the emptiness in my heart.

His mouth had moved lower and was nuzzling the side of her neck, his lips circling erotically.

Jordan. Oh, Jordan... I’m supposed to be telling you to go. And just look at me. Her low tone quivered with fervent longing.

Her body arched into his, and he felt the completeness of her breathless response. She was soft and pliant in his arms. She drove him wild. He stroked her softly with his roughened hand. It was as if he’d never had a woman in all the years they’d been apart.

If you really love me, you’ll walk out of here tonight and forget me, she murmured helplessly, gasping back a sob.

In Every Stranger’s Face

Gini... Gini... Gini...

In every stranger’s face I still search for you. You’d come back to me if you only knew How memories of your sweet, dear loving haunt. How whispers in the night still painfully taunt.

My fortune and my fame I’ve come to hate. Lonely days and lonely nights have been my fate. Every night I stand on stage and sing. Yes, Gini, ‘cause of you I’m a rhinestone king.

But in every stranger’s face I still search for you. You’d come back to me I’m sure if you only knew How I still long for the warm sweetness of your arms, How the memory of a night of wild young love holds charm.

Gini... Gini... Gini...

Chapter One

The late-afternoon, January sky was overcast and drizzling. The temperature was only slightly above freezing. A jumble of apartment complexes, shopping centers, freeway exchanges and the burned-out shell of a country-western bar swept past her in a dreary blur. Not that Gini King noticed the ugly sameness of it all.

Locked in her thoughts, Gini clenched the steering wheel of her ancient Chevy with cold-numbed fingers. The heater was out, and her steamy breaths were making the windows frost. She leaned forward and swiped at the windshield to clear it.

How she hated fighting the after-school traffic between Clear Lake, where she taught tenth grade English, and Friendswood, the bedroom community outside the metropolitan sprawl of Houston where she and her twelve-year-old daughter, Melanie, made their home. The drive home to Friendswood was an old battle, one of many. For ten years Gini had taught school, commuted, fought to raise her child alone and struggled to make her modest salary cover their expenses.

It wasn’t easy being a divorced woman and trying to do it all alone. What irony that they called this the age of women’s liberation.

Something under the Chevy’s rusting hood began to rattle, jerking Gini’s mind back to the acute situation of her finances. She gave a silent prayer. Oh, dear, please don’t let that sound be anything serious. The thought of more expensive garage bills made her frown. Worse was the fear she might have to finance a new car, and right now, with Melanie needing braces and sprouting out of her clothes every three months, she didn’t know where she would get the money to make car payments.

The windshield kept fogging, and she kept having to clear a little patch of glass so she could see.

Gini’s friends were sympathetic. The statistics about ex-husbands who refused to pay their child support were too staggeringly one-sided for anyone to even suspect that her situation wasn’t typical. In the teachers’ lounge, Lucy Moreno, Gini’s best friend, who happened to be married to a successful physicist at NASA, would get on her soapbox and rail about the plight of single mothers in modern society. She loved to deride men who fathered children and shirked their responsibilities. She would demand to know if Gini knew where her scoundrel ex-husband was, and Gini would shake her head, hating herself for the lie.

Oh, she knew.

Sometimes Gini would laugh mirthlessly when she was alone. If her friends only realized the truth, they would not be so sympathetic. They would be thunderstruck, perhaps even jealous. Unbidden would come a treacherous thought.

You’re not like those other women. You don’t have to do it alone.

Then old fears would consume her, and she would declare aloud, maybe to convince herself, Oh, but I do. I do.

Unlike those other women, she lived in fear of her ex-husband finding her and helping her. The mere thought could fill her with that same nameless dread that had driven her to leave him all those years ago.

At thirty-two, despite her responsibilities, Gini looked younger than her age. She was not classically beautiful, but with softly curling brown hair that fell to her shoulders and overlarge tawny eyes, she was not unattractive. Her petite body was curved in the right places. The perpetual sweetness of her expression along with her femininity and grace gave her a charm more beautiful women somehow lacked. Her prettiness was of the heart and soul as well as being an external thing. Thoughtful and kind, she was liked by both men and women.  In her own gentle way, she was charismatic.

Gini, however, thought herself as ordinary. She saw herself as a dull, humorless, robotlike worker. The fact that she was so inordinately popular with her students and with everyone who knew her never struck her as anything out of the ordinary. People are just lonely these days, she would have said, loneliness being an emotion she understood too well.

Gini swerved onto her tree-lined street and then turned her Chevy sedan onto the long shell drive. One of her empty trash cans had rolled into the street. She sighed in exasperation. Why didn’t Melly ever see—

The sight of overlong grass, a wet newspaper, the unswept porch, and the littered carport met her eyes. Melanie’s bike lay in a forgotten heap in the rain. As always Gini fought to ignore these things.

The level of Gini’s tension increased as she got out of the car and picked up the soggy newspaper. Shivering, she wrapped her coat more tightly around her body. There was supper to fix, Melanie to see to, and papers to grade. Wishing she could collapse, she hurried toward the house. No way could she accomplish even a fraction of what needed to be done before bedtime.

As she unlocked the back door, rock music bombarded her. Why couldn’t Melanie mind her just once and do her homework first?

As Gini opened the door, a new song came on, and the low, husky male drawl hit Gini in the gut like a body blow, draining her of every emotion except her own wild, pulsing response to that one voice she still loved despite her fervent determination not to. Her heart racing, she sagged against the doorframe.

Why couldn’t she forget him? Why did it still hurt so much?

The words of the song came to her as she stumbled in a daze toward the living room. For once, she was too upset to notice that Melanie’s homework papers and clothes were scattered across the carpet and furniture. A dirty sock dangled from the windowsill as if it had been enthusiastically tossed there. Samantha, their cat, was in the house, as usual, where she didn’t belong.

His music filled Gini. It must be one of his new songs, because she had never heard it before, and somehow, she always heard his songs even though she tried not to.

Gini... Gini... Gini... Jordan Jacks sang in throbbing lament.

In every stranger’s face I still search for you. You’d come back to me I’m sure if you only knew, My fortune and my fame I’ve come to hate...

While listening, Gini inched her way trancelike into the living room only to halt when she saw the tall, compelling, black-haired god on the television screen. Gripping the microphone, his tanned, muscled body clad in blue jeans and a cotton shirt, he catapulted about the stage in a series of acrobatic maneuvers as he bolted out the words, exuding a primitive message that lured Gini irresistibly.

The erotic passion in his voice and dynamic charisma in his dark handsomeness made Gini freeze as she devoured his virile features. The whole stage with him at the center seemed to pulsate with light and sound.

She could no more have stopped looking at him than she could have stopped breathing. His face was leaner and more rugged than she remembered. Although his hard features had lost all softness of youth, he’d retained that wholesome, enchantingly shy manner she’d loved. It was a strong face, a face of depth and character, as well as a face of awesome masculinity.

A hot, electric shiver traced through her.

The sound of her own name on Jordan’s lips, sung with such a shudder of suppressed desire and longing, made her tremble.

Mother, are you okay? Melanie asked. You never cry...

I’m not crying, I’m not, she lied. Give me a minute. I’m tired. Long day. I just want to listen to the song.

And I thought you were going to get mad because I wasn’t doing my homework...

It’s okay, honey, Gini whispered, her mind spinning backwards.

So, he hadn’t forgotten her completely as she’d been sure he would.

Gini squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to fall. Had she made a mistake to leave him? No. They were wrong for each other.

She wished she could forget him, so she could go on with her conventional life. But how did an ordinary woman like herself forget such an extraordinary man? Since their divorce thirteen years ago, she’d compared every man she’d dated to him. Never had there been one to lay claim to her heart again. For her, no man could ever be his match.

They’d met in Austin at the University of Texas when they’d been students. Post-911, it had been a time of dissension and change, a time when democratic freedoms collided with fear and the need to protect against outside invaders.

Gini met Jordan on a perfectly ordinary blind date their roommates had arranged—a blind date that had proved extraordinary the moment she’d set eyes on him in her dormitory parlor. When she walked in, her brown hair brushed and shining, wearing jeans and a white shirt, Jordan was the only man she saw amid the crowd of men waiting for their dates near the entrance.

Swashbuckling and intense, his dark, rugged good looks compelled her. His eyes met hers. Mesmerized, she couldn’t look away as he walked toward her in long, easy strides.

You must be Gini. His low voice turned her bones to liquid.

When his slow, sweet smile transformed his ruggedly carved features into an expression of unbelievable tenderness, she gasped.

You’re beautiful, he said.

So are you, she blurted. Why had she said that? Why hadn’t she taken more pains with her appearance?

He laughed. No one’s ever told me that before. That’s usually the man’s line.

Is it? She swallowed. I-I don’t know much about lines.

Do you tell all your blind dates that they’re beautiful?

I—I... She felt uncertain, tongue-tied. She could have gladly died on the spot.

Have there been so many that you can’t remember? he teased.

She blushed in confusion. She wasn’t about to confess she rarely dated.

Oh, the misery she felt, and the ecstasy. Oh, the painful, exquisite delight of him that made here heart swell with hope and fear.

Later when she looked back on those first moments, she believed it a mercy that one can feel the terrible vulnerability of first love but once.

His hand circled her waist, and she felt the warmth of his fingers against her flesh. His casual touch felt as intimate as a lover’s. She drew a quick, shallow breath and willed her heart to stop racing.

I’m sorry. She lifted her face to his. I didn’t mean anything when I said you were beautiful. I mean, I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t get out much...because I study a lot. I’m afraid I’m not very experienced.

Neither am I.

His tone softened, the sound like velvet sensually caressing her skin. Her heart beats began to flutter.

They were outside, in the dark, standing on the steps above the curb, the brick dormitory looming behind them.

With the moonlight gleaming in his ebony hair and his handsome face half-hidden in the shadows, he seemed both awesome and mysterious. Though she couldn’t see his eyes, her skin heated as she sensed his ravishing gaze moving lingeringly over her.

He towered over her, and she was more aware than ever how magnificently virile and male he was. Maybe because she scarcely came to his shoulders, he made her feel pleasantly tiny and feminine. An emotion akin to fear but more tantalizing tingled down the length of her spine. Despite what he’d said, she was out of her depth, and he was not.

I wonder if you were making fun of me, Mr. Jacks, she began haltingly. I find it difficult to believe that you’re as inexperienced as I am.

Oh, but I am, came his treacherously silken voice. I don’t usually date...girls like you. His brilliant smile sent a ripple of excitement through her.

And what kind of girls...do you usually date?

He hesitated. I usually date girls I can have a good time with and forget. I don’t have time...for a serious relationship.

Oh.

Tonight...you. You’re different.

In what way? she asked shyly, tremblingly aware of him.

Are you a virgin?

When his eyes swept her slim body, she flushed.

How could you possibly know? she cried, embarrassed. Then her temper ignited, and she began in a fiercer tone, You have no right to talk to me like this.

You asked why you’re different. I assumed you wanted an honest answer.

I’m sorry if...

Don’t apologize. You’re also different, Miss Fisher, in that you are quite unforgettable.

His compliment followed by his quick, dazzling smile dissolved her anger so completely, she despised herself for being so easily manipulated.

He pulled two cardboard strips from his pocket and waved them in front of her. I have tickets to the football game, but suddenly I don’t particularly care about being part of a mob scene, he said, unless, of course, you want to go. I know a quiet place on the river where we could dance and talk and... His gaze drifted to her mouth. But where would you like to go tonight?

If just that bold, hot look in his eyes could make her shiver, what would happen when they were alone, dancing and talking? It was intoxicating to imagine him pulling her against his chest, their bodies swaying rhythmically to the soft strains of romantic music.

The football game might be nice, safer, she blurted. Oh, why had she said that last word?

Are you really in the mood to play it safe tonight? Wouldn’t you rather have fun...with me?

I—I don’t know.

I’d rather get to know you better than to watch a game.

I think if I were wise, I would run back inside my dorm and leave you to the kind of girls you’re used to.

You don’t really mean that.

We couldn’t possibly have much in common. You’ll be bored and disappointed.

He laughed. No way. Trust me, I won’t be bored...or disappointed. A ran a fingertip along her arm. I swear, we’ll find a common bond. His drawl and touch were lazily seductive.

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

"Is that really how you feel? Or would you like to get to know me better, too?

She flushed a telling crimson. It was all too obvious he knew far too much about women. I really do think—

He didn’t let her finish. You think too much. Do you want to go out with me? To get to know me better? Or not?

Yes, but—

Then which will it be, the game or dancing?

His sparkling eyes studied her. Afraid he saw every secret in her soul, she looked away.

Anywhere. With you, she admitted, worried she was being too honest, too soon. Maybe