Much depended on Jax's presence here in town. Surely he wouldn't remain in Port Charles indefinitely. As the son and heir of the hotel chain's founder, there must be far more important things for him to do then guide the fortunes of one small, insignificant cog in an international chain. He'd do whatever he'd come to do – probably just make sure the Miner's Point got off to a good start and perhaps approve a few of the improvement projects Mr. Grover had planned but had been unable to finance.

And if she kept her wits, he would move on without ever finding out about the existence of Jared "Jasper" Jacks. Sure, her son's last name was currently "Barrett," but his birth certificate said "Jacks."

Brenda parked her little car in front of her house and hurried across the yard toward the porch, already cast into the shadow by the lowering sun. She still had a lot to do to prepare for work tomorrow, since she'd been gone since early morning. She thought she had a clean blouse, but she'd have to iron it, and—

"Strike two."

Just as her feet touched the bottom step, a deep voice emerged from the shadows, interrupting her train of thought. She flinched. Damn! She knew that voice anywhere. She would always know his voice.

Jasper Jacks stepped forward. He wore a running outfit: shorts, T-shirt, leather sneakers, all reminiscent of his workout garb on board the Immortal. Brenda's breath caught in her chest, and she stared up at him helplessly.

"Strike two," he repeated. "You don't look sick to me, Brenda Barrett. In fact, you look—" His gaze flicked over her, from head to toe. " –Pretty damned good."

This was one eventuality for which she was totally unprepared, and she found herself stammering, "W-what are you doing here? You scared me half to death, Jax. You have no right coming here, making yourself at home on my front porch, when—"

"Where have you been all day, Brenda?" he demanded brusquely.

"None of your business!" Stalking past him, she tried to fit her key into the lock with nervously trembling fingers. He reached past her and gently took the keys out her hands; his fingers brushing hers and sending little sparks of sensual awareness careening along her nerve endings. She gave in without a struggle, standing helplessly by while he opened her door with a flourish. She walked inside with every intention of slamming the door in his face, but he was not about to be denied.

Easily blocking the door with a shoulder, he raised one brow.

"Temper, temper," he said teasingly. "Little Brenda's been a bad girl twice in two days. At this rate, you'll be on the unemployment line before we even have a chance to get reacquainted."

She didn't like the way he said that word: reacquainted. She had a very strong suspicion he meant something else entirely. She turned away from him, trying desperately to come up with some plausible lie.

"I'm waiting," he reminded her.

His hands settled on her shoulders and she stiffened. Every time he touched her, she felt herself weaken even more. "I had... a personal errand to take care of," she said at last.

"A personal errand. One that took all day?" he asked, furrowing his brow suspiciously.

"Yes!" She dipped her shoulders and stepped away from him, turning to forestall any further intimacy. "I'm sorry, Jax. But I'm scarcely ever ill, so I thought that just this once it wouldn't hurt if I fudged a little bit… Wait a minute – why am I sitting her giving you any kind of an explanation? You're not my husband!"

He looked at her, his gaze steady. "Look Brenda, I was worried about you when you called in sick, okay?" he finally admitted. "Apparently that's a rarity for you. So I called your house several times to see how you were doing, and each time I got your answering machine. So I came down here to see for myself. Couldn't you have at least tried telling me the truth?"

"Look who's talking!" she shot back angrily. She knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. She saw his eyes turn stone cold.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded angrily.

"Let it go." She turned away; another mistake. He stopped her by touching her shoulders again. Her body once again betraying her, she cursed softly, "Damn it, Jax! What do you want now?"

"I want to know what you meant by that crack," he demanded, his voice as cold as his eyes.

"The obvious: I wasn't the one who lied about an engagement." She lifted her chin. "And I wasn't the one who married someone else before my Caribbean tan even faded," she added tersely.

"No," he agreed softly, "you were the one who forgot how to use a telephone."

"I explained—" she started.

"And I don't believe you," he interrupted.

"Then ask your wife!" she spat back.

He recoiled as if she'd struck him. "I can't," he said with icy calm. "She's dead."

"Oh no—" Brenda lifted her hands, instinctively wanting to offer him some comfort. He looked so suddenly haggard that she supposed he hadn't been able to get over his loss. The knot in her stomach tightened even more. What they'd shared on the ship must have been a cheap diversion, since this man was obviously grieving the loss of a deeper love. "Oh, Jax, I'm so sorry," she managed to add. What could she say?

"You know," he said slowly, "I believe you are, and that means a lot to me."

"Is that why you came to Port Charles?" she asked softly.

"You mean, because she died and I'm trying to forget?" He frowned. "I never thought of it that way, but you could be right. She died a couple of years ago, actually. Until then, I was one of those people with a blueprint for my life. After the fire – Well, everything seemed to go to pieces," he said weakly.

She'd never seen him look so vulnerable. Her heart ached, seeing him in such pain, and she found herself wondering if perhaps she might hold the key to easing the grief so obvious on his face. Would the knowledge that he had a son lighten his load or make it heavier? Maybe she was wrong to keep Jax's son away from him… She had to tell him the truth.

Touching his shoulder lightly, she began to speak "Jax… I…"

But Jax interrupted her; seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was even talking. All of Brenda's sympathy then turned to horror when Jax flatly added: "My son died with his mother."

To be continued…