The Tycoon's Secret Daughter

by Susan Meier

  She blinked up at him. “I don’t swim. It messes up my hair.”

  “You’re going to miss all the fun.”

  “I’m going to watch all the fun.”

  Just then Annette’s two boys raced out of the house and flew into the pool. Landing with a splash, they drenched Gwen. She popped off the chaise and turned to yell at them, but suddenly her eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh!”

  Worried, Max said, “What?”

  “The little one. He looks just like Chance!”

  Max followed the direction of her gaze. With yellow hair and big blue eyes, Annette’s youngest son did look something like Chance, if only in a very generic, twelve-year-old boy kind of way. So he humored his mom. “Yeah, I guess he does.”

  “Remember how Chance’s hair used to turn almost white in the summer?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  She sat on the edge of the chaise, watching the boys swim and bat the beach ball back and forth. “He’s cute.”

  Max took a seat on the chaise beside hers. “All kids are cute, Mom.”

  She kicked her toe along the tiles beneath the chaise. “You think I’m a silly old fool.”

  “Never.” He smiled at her. Now that she’d butted out of his business with Kate, she was back to being his sort-of-sad, very lonely mom. The mom he wished with every fiber of his being could be happy. Just once in her life. “You simply miss your son.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Yeah.”

  He rose from the chaise. “Why don’t you just relax and enjoy the afternoon—”

  The gate swung open and Trisha ran through.

  “—with your granddaughter,” he added, hoping she’d take the hint that she should enjoy what she had and forget what she didn’t.

  Wearing her little blue bathing suit with a ruffle around her hips that made it look like a tutu, Trisha propelled herself at Max’s mother.

  “Hey, Gi Gi!”

  Gwen hugged her. “Hey, yourself. I understand you’re having another party.”

  Trisha’s face scrunched. “A playdate. Not a party.”

  “Oh, excuse me,” his mom replied with mock politeness.

  Trisha pointed at her grandmother’s white tank top. “Where’s your suit?”

  “I’m not swimming.”

  Trisha said, “Ah, Gi Gi!”

  Kate ambled over. “Yeah, Gi Gi. Where’s your sense of fun?”

  Max wasn’t surprised that Kate had so easily gotten over the incident with his mom threatening to take her to court. He’d handled it and she accepted that he had. But he was surprised when his mom laughed. “Well, I am sort of wet already.”

  Grateful everybody was getting along, Max grinned. “Might as well get completely wet.”

  She patted her hair. “It’s not like I can’t shampoo again at home.”

  Trisha tugged on her hand. “Come on. We’ll ask Mrs. Gentry to find you a suit.”

  Kate laughed as they walked away. “Only with you for two months and she already knows who to ask for things.”

  He laughed, his gaze following his daughter until she was inside the French doors, then he turned to Kate. “I don’t see your suit anywhere.”

  She took a step back, looked away. “That’s because I’m not swimming. Actually, I was thinking I don’t really need to be here.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  She shielded her eyes from the sun. “You’re fine with her now, Max.” Once again she glanced away then looked back at him, as if what she had to say was incredibly difficult for her. “I trust you.”

  He’d figured that out the day of the ribbon-cutting, but hearing her say it sent pride surging through him. But a wave of disappointment followed on its heels. Kate leaving him alone with their daughter meant he didn’t get to spend time with her. And she didn’t have to spend time with him. He knew it was for the best, but it still rankled.

  “Are you sure you’re not going because of what we talked about at the restaurant?”

  For Kate, the temptation to lie was strong. Not because it would make the situation easier, but because she didn’t want to put any more pressure on Max than he already had. But his honesty at the restaurant had set new ground rules for this relationship and she would abide by them. “That’s part of it.”

  “I understand.”

  The guilt she heard in his voice shamed her. She couldn’t let him take the blame for something that was as much her fault as it was his.

  “I don’t think you do understand.” She looked around again, stalling, hoping for an easy way to say this, then finally gave up and caught his gaze. “I’m not leaving because you told me you liked me. I’m leaving because I like you too.”

  “Really?” Happy surprise filled his voice.

  She quickly added the things he also needed to remember. “Yes. But you know all the reasons it’s not wise for us to like each other. You also already said you weren’t going to pursue this.”

  He took a step closer. “I only said that because I thought for sure you didn’t even want to consider liking me.”

  Slowly, cautiously, she caught his gaze. “I don’t. I can’t.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “I shouldn’t.”

  “But—”

  “But I can’t seem to stop myself.”

  His expression became so hopeful that her heart hurt.

  She shook her head. “Don’t! This time if we make a mistake, we don’t just hurt us. We hurt Trisha.” She sighed heavily. “I won’t take that chance.”

  She turned and walked through the gate, leaving him with his little girl and her friends, trusting him, all because she knew staying would only increase their attraction, maybe push them to the point they’d do something they’d regret.

  * * *

  Kate returned at four, the same time all the other parents were to pick up their kids. Max stood by the pool, looking sexy in his swimming trunks and fatherly in the way he wore his lifeguard whistle and monitored everything going on in the pool.

  Her heart melted a bit. He was so gorgeous and so good that not falling for him was sort of like not thinking of the color blue.

  Which was wrong. If it killed her, she would keep their relationship platonic. “Hey. I’m here to pick up my daughter.”

  Spinning to face her, he laughed. “So that’s how it is, huh? You’re just one of the crowd of parents?”

  “Yep.” She kept her tone light but even. They might not be able to spend long periods of time together but they could be friendly.

  He pointed at a little throng of men who’d gathered by the snack table, waiting for their kids who obviously wanted a few more minutes of play in the pool. Hairy legs and bald heads abounded. “Sure you want to be counted in that group?”

  She laughed. “They are our age.”

  “They’re my age. You’re six years younger, remember? You’re the hot mama. While the rest of us are starting to show signs of wear, you’re still as pretty as you ever were.”

  She tried to laugh, to keep things light, but her heart prevented that, lodged in her throat the way it was.

  His eyes heated and his voice lowered as he bent in close to whisper in her ear. “Actually, that wasn’t teasing. I meant that. You’re still beautiful.”

  Little flickers of heat danced up and down her arms. His voice was soft, seductive, but not like Charming Max. Like New Max. The guy she really liked. The guy who had waves of masculinity rolling from him over to her. He didn’t even have to touch her to send her senses reeling.

  She sucked in a breath. Said what needed to be said. “We’re not supposed to flirt.”

  “Really? I like to flirt with you.”

  He liked to flirt? She longed to flirt. But it was wrong. And they both knew it. “I thought we agreed not to pursue this?”

  He grinned at her. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

  The little tingles skipping along her skin heated up. He stepped in closer and she had to fight to hold back a shiver.

  “When I told you
I was attracted to you, I thought the feelings weren’t reciprocated. So I was giving you an out. Now that I know that you like me too, the out is no longer valid.”

  She gaped at him. “This isn’t a game!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” Heat suffused her and she suddenly couldn’t remember why. Then Trisha splashed into the pool. “Because of Trisha!”

  Gwen picked that exact second to walk over to them, her wet hair combed off her face and a towel wrapped around her black bathing suit. She frowned at Kate, then caught Max’s arm. “I’d like to talk to you.”

  Max held up his whistle. “Can’t. I’m lifeguard.”

  Gwen turned to a gaggle of moms standing on the other side of the pool and called, “Annette?”

  Pretty in her scarlet swimsuit, Annette scrambled over. Yanking the whistle from Max’s hand, Gwen said, “Be lifeguard for a few minutes.”

  Annette said, “Sure.”

  Gwen caught Max’s arm and casually led him away.

  Kate stood there aghast. Max’s mom might have changed some, but she still loved giving orders. Annette might have to comply. Max might comply out of respect, but Kate had no intention of being bullied.

  Furious, she strode into the house and back to the den. Before she reached the door, she heard Gwen say, “I want to find Chance.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn’t thought far enough to wonder what Gwen had wanted to talk to Max about, but finding Chance? Was she nuts? Chance had been the reason Max began drinking. Did she want to send him back to the bottle?

  Max growled, “What?”

  “I never asked you what you and your dad fought about the day Chance left. Since it caused him to run away, I’m guessing it was something about him. Probably something about his real parents. Maybe they were in jail. Maybe one of them was even a murderer.” She sighed. “I always assumed you didn’t want to find Chance because whatever it was about his parents that you don’t want me to know, you believed it would bring trouble to our door.”

  Fear for Max flooded Kate. She switched to the other side of the corridor, flattening herself against the wall so she could see inside the den, but couldn’t be seen.

  Max eased back on the sofa, his voice perfectly calm when he said, “That’s not exactly right, but close.”

  “I’ve decided I don’t care. I want my son back. Whatever trouble there is in his past, I believe we can deal with it. But I also respect your judgment enough to know that if you’ve kept this secret for almost a decade, it must be something you believe we can’t deal with. So I’ve come up with a compromise. Tell me the reason Chance left, what you discovered in his past that was so bad that he ran away when he heard it, and we’ll make the decision about whether to bring him home together.”

  Kate nearly slid down the wall she was leaning against. How the hell was he going to tell his mom that Chance was her husband’s biological child from an affair? How did a son find himself in the position of having to tell his mom her husband had cheated? Why hadn’t fate forced Brandon to be the one to make the admission? Why did it keep pummeling Max?

  A sudden urge to be in the room, to support him, swamped her. But before she could move, Max quietly said, “And if I don’t?”

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll call our attorney tomorrow, instructing him to hire a private investigator.”

  “That’s not much of a choice.”

  “I know. But, Max, I miss my son.” Gwen rose and walked to the wet bar. “Surely after meeting Trisha, you can understand that.” Without hesitation, she took a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and poured herself two fingers.

  Kate’s heart pounded in her chest and tears filled her eyes as she watched Max. It was almost as if his mother was trying to push him so far he drank. Or taunting him. Or totally oblivious to his feelings—which had been the crux of his problems when they were younger. His parents used him, trotted him out for public functions and ignored him when they didn’t need him.

  It had seemed his relationship with his mother had changed, but maybe it hadn’t.

  “I tolerated your father not telling me what you argued about only because we already had a bad marriage. It took every ounce of my focus and concentration to be a good wife to that man. I didn’t need to hear something about Chance’s biological parents that might have made our lives totally intolerable.”

  Her heart galloping, her breathing painful, Kate could only stare as, totally silent, Max studied his mother. Seconds ticked off the clock as Gwen sipped her whiskey. Max’s gaze stayed stuck on her as if he were transfixed.

  Suddenly he said, “I’ll find Chance.” Then he rose and walked to the wet bar.

  For Kate the whole scene seemed to happen in slow motion. She felt the weight of every one of his steps as he strode to the bar. Part of her nearly leaped into the room to stop him. The other part watched in horror as he picked up the bottle of whiskey.

  The word No! screamed inside her head.

  But he slid around the bar, returned the bottle to its place on the shelf and opened the small refrigerator. He lifted out a pitcher and poured himself a glass of iced tea.

  Her poor heart had about exploded with fear, and her shimmering nerves struggled to settle down, but she stayed rooted to the spot, feeling things for Max she didn’t want to feel. Pride mostly. But also love. This guy did what he had to do. He didn’t run. He didn’t hide. Not even in a bottle.

  Gwen said, “Do you have the resources to find Chance?”

  “I can talk to Waterman as easily as you can.”

  “You think you’re going to get to Chance first and tell him not to tell me whatever it was about his parents that caused him to run away.”

  Max held his mother’s stare. “Do you want to know the trouble with Chance’s bloodline or do you want him back?”

  “If that’s the choice you’re giving me, I want Chance back.”

  With that she returned to the bar. She set her glass in the sink, walked over to Max and kissed his cheek. She said, “Thank you, Max,” pivoted and headed for the door.

  Not wanting to get caught, Kate raced into the small powder room nearby, hiding while Gwen walked by.

  When she knew Gwen was gone, she eased out and found herself face-to-face with Max, who was walking up the hall, leaving too.

  Stopping, he didn’t question her being there, simply said, “My mother is the only person I know who can thank me for buckling under to her blackmail.”

  Kate couldn’t help it. She laughed.

  With a sigh, he motioned to the den again. “Have a minute?”

  She licked her suddenly dry lips. He wanted to confide and she wanted to be his confidante. It was dangerous territory, but staring into his blue eyes, seeing nothing but a good, honest man—not their past, not the old Max, just a guy she really liked who needed her—she couldn’t refuse. “Sure.”

  Max walked to his desk and fell into the tall-backed leather chair. He leaned back and rubbed his fingers across his eyes. “She wants me to find Chance.”

  Kate crossed to the desk and sat on the chair in front of it. “Will you?”

  Max snorted a laugh. “I said I would. I will.”

  Was it any wonder she longed to be close to him? He kept his word. He knew his responsibilities. He was exactly the kind of man she wanted to be in love with. And she knew he wanted her. Was she crazy to be afraid of this?

  “Maybe everything will be okay when he comes home.”

  “Right. He was as angry with me for not telling him what I’d discovered as he was with Dad for lying all these years.”

  “He wanted you to tell him something you considered to be only office gossip?”

  Max sighed. “He was eighteen. He was stubborn and bossy.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine what he’s like now.”

  “What do you think he’s been doing for the past ten years?”

  “Well, when he was in high school, he worked construction on our buildings in the
summers. He’d also interned a bit in the offices in the winter.” He shrugged. “He had plenty of skills to support himself.”

  “So you think he’s okay?”

  He looked at her across the desk. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I thought he was alone and hungry.”

  Of course he wouldn’t.

  Recognition dawned. “You know where he is, don’t you?”

  “I know that he’s been employed—always employed—for the past seven or so years.”

  She angled her elbow on the arm of her chair and laid her chin on her open palm. He really made it hard to dislike him. “I should have known.”

  “I found him after I got sober. The first few years, he had been drifting a lot. He had a few construction jobs, but it was like he didn’t have a focus. So I called a guy who called a guy who called a guy, and we found a steady job for him as a construction foreman. He does more than okay.”

  “That is so sweet.”

  He bounced out of his chair. “Yeah, well, don’t make a saint out of me yet. I’ve got to get to him through channels, make it look like I didn’t have a hand in his life the past six years, then meet him somewhere, and somehow get him to see that he has to come home, and when he does he can’t tell Mom her late husband was his real father.”

  Smiling at his assessment, she rose too. Slowly. Her eyes followed him as he walked around the desk until he was in front of her.

  Shirtless, in swimming trunks, bronzed from the sun, he was about as sexy as a man could get. But the serious look on his face was really what drew her. He didn’t underestimate his trouble or overestimate his abilities. He also didn’t brag about doing good. He just did it.

  “Don’t look at me like that.”

  She smiled. “Like what?”

  “Like I’m the savior of the world. I’m not. I’m just a guy who picks up pieces.”

  “You wouldn’t have done that eight years ago.”

  “Eight years ago I was the guy making the pieces. And I’m one drink away from being that guy again.” He paused, caught her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Remember that.”

  “I do remember that.”

  He shook his head. “If you did, you’d be running right now, not looking at me like you want to kiss me.”