Ashley grabbed Joanna’s hand and stood by her side. “Yes, Cliff Whitman was my father,” she said, “but that’s my business and not anyone else’s. And frankly you can all—” She stopped as she felt Joanna’s fingers bite into her arm.

“Enjoy the beach,” Joanna said calmly. “Ashley and I both want you to enjoy what Silver Point has to offer, but we’re not included. Now we’d be grateful if you’d leave us alone.”

But it seemed there was no chance of that.

“Who is the father of your baby? Now we know it wasn’t Cliff, are you going to tell us who it is?”

“No, I’m not. That is none of your—”

“I am.” A male voice came from the back of the crowd, clear and strong. “I’m the father. And now I’d like you to all move on and stop stressing the mother of my child.”

Ashley felt her knees wobble. Her purse slid from her fingers. She couldn’t see the face, but she knew that voice.

“Jon?”

“That’s Jon? Dark hair at the back?” Joanna spoke under her breath. “You forgot to mention that he’s seriously cute.”

“Did I? I—he is cute. And kind. And smart. I don’t know what he’s doing here.”

“Well, given that he just announced his presence to the world, I think we can safely say he’s looking for you.” Joanna gave her hand another squeeze and then let go. “You should talk to him.”

“I don’t know what to say.” But she’d run out of time to plan a strategy because he was pushing his way through to the front of the crowd.

“Just say what comes into your head.” Joanna stepped to one side and smiled at the photographers and reporters who were still snapping away. “I’m sure you’ll want to give them privacy.”

“All right, enough.” Greg appeared and moved the crowd away.

Ashley didn’t even notice. She’d ceased to worry about the audience. All she could think about was the fact that Jon was here.

She could handle the press, but she couldn’t handle this. Facing Jon. Losing Jon. Worse, losing him in public.

She’d been too terrified to listen to his messages and because of that she was going to have to hear him tell her in person all the reasons why their night together had been a mistake. If she’d listened to the messages she would have had time to nurse her misery in private, before facing him now.

She’d thought she’d already lived through some horrible moments, but this was going to be the worst.

His shirt was rumpled and his eyes were tired. He looked as if he’d driven through the night.

She felt a stab of guilt. “I was going to contact you.”