Free Keeping Victoria's Secret by Melinda Peters Page A

no reason to unpack all the boxes. Vicky felt a
little funny and decided to go into the bathroom and wash her face
with a cool cloth. When she moved her chair out and started to
stand, the world began to spin. Oh no! Not again! Then everything
went black.
* * *
    On the other side of the table, Doc Sweeney
pushed back his chair and shouted. “Hey, look out! Somebody catch
her.” Vicky swayed on her feet for a second, pale as a freshly
laundered bed sheet, and then began to crumple.
    Jack vaulted to his feet and caught her just
as she was going down. Losing his balance, he collapsed into his
chair, her shapely bottom pressing hard into his lap. For an
instant, as he cradled her, the fragrance of her hair and soft
touch of her cheek on his, were intoxicating. With an effort, he
forced licentious thoughts from his mind. He sat shaking his head
in disgust with the unconscious girl in his arms. “Here we go. It’s
like déjà vu all over again.”
* * *
    Vicky was unconscious for only a few seconds.
When her eyelids fluttered open, she was looking straight into the
fierce scowling face of Jack Conner. Confused, her mind flickered
back to where she’d left off writing that morning. In her
confusion, she imagined the handsome pirate of Caribbean Fire had
her in his evil clutches.
    Struggling against him, she cried out, “If
you’ve brought me here to have your way with me then…,” she sat up
with a start, blinking at their puzzled faces. She could feel a
warm flush as color returned to her cheeks.
    Doc was grinning at her. “The two of you make
a good looking couple in each other’s arms.”
    Wriggling away, in an attempt to extricate
herself, she inadvertently ground her behind into Jack’s crotch,
and she felt him flinch.
    “Oops, sorry,” she said, clambering to her
feet.
    “Are you feeling quite all right now?” This
came from Doc, coming around the table, peering closely at her
face.
    “I’m not okay, but I guess nobody cares about
that,” growled Jack.
    Elvira hurried to the sink, filled a glass of
water, and brought it to her. “Drink this slowly dear and sit back
down. I know this is all rather a shock for you but I’m sure we’ll
figure something out. The good Lord wouldn’t have brought you up
here to your grandmother’s place without a reason. Things will work
out. You’ll see. Now I’ll make you some tea with plenty of sugar.
It’s the best thing for someone who’s fainted.”
    The reason for her distress came back to her
in a rush. The house and the farm were never Nanna’s to begin with.
She’d never even considered that one day she’d inherit this place
until a month ago when she’d received the letter from Mr. Douglas.
She’d been so excited and so happy to have this connection with her
grandmother’s past and now it was all going up in smoke.
    Mrs. Sweeney gathered up the empty coffee
mugs and took them to the sink. Returning to her seat at the table
she turned once more to Fred and asked, “Do we know the name of
Alexander and Betsy’s son?”
    Fred looked through some papers and then
pulled out a single sheet. “There’s a letter here from Victoria,
Vicky’s grandmother, telling your mother that Betsy’s son was named
Theodore. This is dated July 1947, when Victoria was still married
to Charley Conner, before they divorced and she left town. Says
he’s a darling little baby. What happened was, as Doc and I pieced
it together, Betsy remarried a Van Winkle long about 1949 and her
husband legally adopted young Theodore so his last name was
changed. Doc believes that he passed away about ten years back and
Jonathan Van Winkle is his only child.”
    At the mention of Van Winkle’s name, she sat
up and blurted, “Oh my God, he must know something.”
    “What the hell are you talking about? Who
knows what?” snapped Jack.
    “Van Winkle. This morning.” She clutched the
back of Jack’s chair to steady herself. “With everything else
happening, it slipped my mind. He kept