Fortune's Secret Child

by Delacorte, Shawna

“Exactly what is this all about?”

  His attitude was demanding, but in light of the circumstances, Cynthia had to admit his request was not unreasonable. She took a calming breath and attempted to put the facts into some sort of logical order, an easier task than tackling her need to set aside the very disconcerting effect Shane Fortune had on her—even after all these years. A tremor made its way through her body, telling her just how desirable she still found him.

  “My father died three days ago,” she began.

  “I’m sorry.” His surprise was genuine and his words sincere. “I didn’t know. Had he been ill?”

  “Apparently so—” a sob caught in her throat “—but he hadn’t said anything about not feeling well...” Her voice trailed off, her despair over the loss of her father momentarily distracting her. “Anyway—” she returned her attention to Shane, determined to present a strong front “—late one night I received a phone call from his neighbor saying he had found my father unconscious in the hall and called an ambulance to take him to the hospital. I finally got hold of the doctor.”

  She steeled herself. Her personal concerns and feelings about her father’s death were private and certainly not any of Shane’s business. She tried to tamp down her anxiety and steady her nerves before continuing.

  “I was making some changes in my life’s direction and personal priorities and was already packed up to move,” she said, “so it was a simple matter to put my household goods in storage to be shipped later. I packed the bare essentials in my car and drove straight from Chicago to Pueblo.”

  “Chicago... So that’s your car with the Illinois license plates parked on the street in front of the house?”

  “Yes.” She snapped out the answer, annoyed at the way the conversation had strayed from the problem at hand. “Anyway, I had assumed I could stay at my father’s, but when I arrived, I found that his house was really a small studio apartment in a building that looked like it should have been condemned.” She still had difficulty accepting what had been going on with her father. She clenched her jaw and fought back her tears before they could escape.

  She forced out her words, preferring to dictate the direction of the conversation rather than giving him the opportunity to ask questions. “I tried to get some information from his neighbor, but he didn’t say anything that explained what had happened.” She slowly shook her head, trying to put logic to something that refused to make sense. “There was no way I could stay there, so I rented a studio apartment on a weekly basis at a motel close to the hospital. My father died four days later without ever regaining consciousness.” A sob caught in her throat as the pain of her loss forced itself to the surface. “He didn’t even know I was there.” She paused, then tucked her private moment of sorrow safely away where no one could see it.

  She looked up at Shane, squared her shoulders and gathered her composure again. “Then Kate offered me this house to stay in until I could get my father’s estate straightened out, find a place to live and get a job.”

  “It’s amazing that we didn’t run into each other at the hospital. I’m on staff there.”

  “Yes, I know.” Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. “I saw your name on the registry.”

  An awkward silence filled the air before Shane finally broke it. “Well, that certainly explains what you’re doing in Pueblo, but it doesn’t explain how you and Kate got together. I can’t imagine her doing something like giving my house to someone.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a colossal blunder. They sounded way too harsh, especially in light of the circumstances of her father’s death. He saw her eyes narrow and her jaw tighten, but it was too late to take the words back.

  She sharply clipped her words, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. “Kate didn’t give me a house. I can afford to pay my own way. I don’t require charity from anyone, least of all from the Fortune family. I told Kate I would pay rent while I was here.”

  “No one said you were asking for charity.” The volume of his voice rose to match hers. “That still doesn’t tell me how and why you and Kate even got together.”

  She spit out the words without making any attempt to hold back her anger. “I don’t need your permission before speaking with someone.” She glared at him. “But for your information she read the obituary notice in the newspaper. It mentioned the graveside service that took place this morning.” Her voice softened as thoughts and feelings from several years ago again invaded her consciousness. “I was surprised to see her there. I had only met her briefly on a couple of occasions back when you and I...”

  The memory of their two-year intense love affair, which she’d thought would last a lifetime, brought her words to a halt. She swallowed her momentary lapse and continued, though a lot of the fire had gone out of her attitude. The captivating and tantalizing presence of the very tempting Shane Fortune was playing havoc with her reality. Her emotions had been on a roller-coaster ride from the moment she realized the identity of the man who had tackled her. She needed to bring the wild ride to a halt.

  “Well, anyway, I was surprised to see her at the service. It never occurred to me that she would remember who I was or associate me with the newspaper obit for my father.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and leveled a steady gaze at her. “I see.” His words may not have said it, but his attitude and tone of voice spelled out his skepticism.

  She scowled fiercely. “Since you apparently choose not to believe me, I suggest you take the matter up with Kate rather than continuing to badger me. I certainly don’t have any other reason for being in your house.”

  His voice grew louder still. “I did not say I didn’t believe you. Stop putting words in my mouth.” His voice dropped. “And I’m not badgering you.”

  She put her hands on her hips, and her voice rose, her anger spilling out in each word. “I’m hardly putting words in your mouth.” She stole a quick glance out the kitchen door toward the staircase. She lowered her tone, but her ire had not been assuaged. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down so you don’t wake Bobby.” A sinking feeling settled inside her. The words had slipped out before she could censor them.

  “Bobby? You mean there’s someone else in my house besides you?” Shane’s reaction was immediate—curiosity combined with a determination that said he was about to tackle a problem head on. “Just who is this Bobby? Your boyfriend?” He hesitated, his words more cautious than accusatory, as if he was uncertain about saying them. “Your husband?”

  She tried to still her apprehension. She could not keep the quaver out of her voice, nor could she look Shane in the eye. She stared at the floor and uttered a barely audible response. “Bobby is my son.”

  “Your...your son?” Shane staggered backward a couple of steps, stunned. He came to a halt when he bumped into the pantry door. “I didn’t realize you had married.”

  “I’m not married.” She attempted to change the subject, making no effort to keep the irritation out of voice. The sick churning in the pit of her stomach confirmed that she was a long way from being in control of anything. “Now, if the inquisition is over...”

  He regarded her for a second as he switched his attitude from personal to detached. “You’ve certainly changed.” He had to do something to get his rampaging emotions under control. He knew his anger was only one of them, a small one at that. The overriding element—the thing that bothered him the most and what he had to curb—was his all-consuming desire for Cynthia McCree. It was something he thought he would never come face-to-face with again, yet here it was. “We never used to argue about anything.”

  “If you mean that I’m no longer that docile young woman you knew when we were pursuing the education for our careers, the one who hung on your every word, then you’re right—I’ve changed. I learned about the real world very quickly.” She shot him a pointed look. “Almost overnight.” She could tell she hit the mark with her reference to the abrupt way he had terminated t
heir affair.

  She straightened her stance and presented him with a businesslike facade that said she considered the conversation at an end. “You needn’t worry, my son and I will be out of your house first thing in the morning.” She whirled around and started toward the door, hoping she had turned away in time to prevent him from seeing the anguish that must surely have registered on her face. The last thing she wanted was to show any weakness or vulnerability to Shane Fortune.

  “Wait a minute!” Shane reached out and grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt. Her words and tone may have been angry, but he also heard what was underneath. He heard the hurt and knew he had been the cause of it. That knowledge weighed uncomfortably on his conscience. He was not proud of what he had done to her six years ago and, in particular, the way he had done it. He had never been able to forgive himself for hurting her the way he had. Was it too late to make things right? He didn’t know. He suppressed a sigh of despair. He didn’t know much of anything at the moment.

  She jerked her arm free of his grasp and turned a defiant stare on him. She spit out her words, along with her hurt and anger. “What now? Isn’t first thing in the morning soon enough for you? Do you want us out of here tonight?”

  “No. That’s not it.” He backed away from her anger and her surprisingly aggressive behavior. “It’s your arm...” His manner softened. “Let me take a look at that abrasion.”

  Cynthia glanced at the scrape just below her elbow. What little composure she still possessed was slipping away faster than she could keep control of it. She had to get away from him. From his far-too-tempting presence. She snapped out her words. “It’s nothing.”

  Shane grasped her arm again, this time gently, as he changed from the strong and determined Shane Fortune to the compassionate and caring Dr. Fortune. His soothing voice elicited the type of patient confidence that made him so successful and popular at the hospital. “At least let me put some antiseptic on it.”

  He tugged until he felt her relent. He slid his fingers down her arm, took her hand in his, then led her across the kitchen. The warmth of her skin spread through his body, rousing a combination of emotions unlike any he’d ever experienced. It was all very confusing and unsettling. He tried to concentrate on the matter at hand.

  He opened a cupboard and grabbed a package of cotton balls and a bottle of antiseptic. She flinched and her muscles tensed as he applied it. His soothing voice carried his concern. “Does this hurt?”

  “No...it stings a little, that’s all.”

  It was as if all the fight had suddenly gone out of her and a crisis had passed. He continued to cling to her hand. He had never forgotten the sensual feeling he got from touching her, yet the tingling sensation emanating from his fingertips and continuing up his arm carried all the excitement of something new and wonderful. The sensation both thrilled and disturbed him.

  Cynthia worked her hand out of his grasp without actually jerking it away. His touch stirred up emotions and needs she thought she’d safely buried away. She tried to physically distance herself from his commanding presence and his tempting allure, which made her pulse jump and her blood race. She put as much confidence into her voice as she could muster. “As I said, my son and I will be out of your house first thing in the morning.” She turned and practically ran from him.

  “Cynthia, wait.” He watched helplessly as she left the kitchen and started up the stairs, ignoring his words. He stood motionless, rooted to the spot, as the most exciting and tantalizing woman he had ever known walked away from him just as he had walked away from her six long years ago.

  He didn’t have a clue what to do. Shane Fortune—the man whose life was totally under control, the man who knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing, the man whose commanding presence inspired confidence in everyone around him—was at a complete loss. He stared at the spot where she’d been standing just a moment earlier, an escalating sense of loss tugging at his consciousness, revealing the emptiness that lived inside him. He realized he had no one to blame but himself.

  He and Cynthia had met in graduate school. He thought back. She had been part of his life at a time when he had been trying to deal with inner turmoil about his dual heritage and his place in the overall scheme of things. He had struggled to find his own identity in a life that straddled two worlds—the one on his grandfather’s side, with the wealth and prestige of the Fortune family, and on the other side the Native American culture of his Tohono O’odham grandmother. He’d been positive that Cynthia would never be able to fit into that divided world, especially when he didn’t know where or how he fit into it himself. It had been a time of pent-up anger and inner turmoil, which he had successfully kept hidden behind a facade of strength and control.

  There had never been any confusion about his career. Unlike his brother and two cousins, he had made the decision not to work in the family-owned company, Fortune Construction. Being a doctor was what he had always wanted. His personal life, however, had been a mass of confusion and contradictions. No one really knew what he was going through back then. He had managed to keep his turmoil well hidden from everyone who knew him, including his family and Cynthia McCree.

  A small spot of warmth, fueled by a long-suppressed emotional need, flickered to life. He did know one thing for certain—no matter how dark something had seemed to him, all his problems would disappear when he held Cynthia McCree in his arms. It had taken several months of stubborn denial and agonizing over what he had done before he finally admitted to himself that by leaving her he had made a colossal blunder, missed her very much and wanted her back in his life.

  He had eventually swallowed his pride and asked her father where she had gone. He vividly recalled Robert McCree’s angry words. Don’t you think you’ve already hurt her enough? I told her no good would come of associating with you. If she wants to talk to you, she knows where to find you. Everyone knows where to find the illustrious Fortunes. The words had been cloaked in bitter sarcasm and they had hit their mark. They left him with a gaping hole in his life that had never been refilled.

  He shoved aside the unpleasant memories and turned his attention to his now cold dinner. He stared at it, emitted a sigh of resignation, then put it in the refrigerator. What had been hunger pangs an hour ago had turned into uncertainty about what would happen in the morning. He busied himself with the physical activity of cleaning up the kitchen and restoring everything to its proper place. The memories continued to linger in his mind, mixing with thoughts of what the immediate future held.

  He left the kitchen and started up the stairs toward his bedroom. He paused at the top of the staircase. The doors were closed at two of the four guest bedrooms. One of them was Cynthia’s and the other was her son. He stopped outside the closed doors and listened for a moment. A deep disappointment had jabbed at his consciousness when she said she had a son. He continued down the hallway to his bedroom suite. A strange sense of loss overcame him as the disappointment turned to sadness.

  Cynthia heard the soft footsteps outside her bedroom. She held her breath and waited in the darkness. Tears welled up in her eyes and a terrible foreboding settled over her. Would he open the door? She finally heard him move away. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on getting some sleep, but to no avail. Her efforts only produced an image of Shane’s handsome features and the memory of many nights of heated passion. He’d been the man she thought she’d be with for the rest of her life, a love she thought would live forever. Then her entire life had come crashing down around her.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut in an attempt to drive the image from her mind. He had rejected her, and even after all these years the pain was still very real. But that was not the most compelling issue at hand. Seeing him again had done more than resurrect heated desires and inflamed emotions. It had shoved her greatest fear to the front of the line, an all-consuming dread that nearly paralyzed her with fright. A sick churning tried to work its way up her throat. Her most closely
guarded secret must be protected at all costs.

  She could never allow Shane Fortune to know that he was the father of her son. She had to do everything in her power to make sure Bobby was not subjected to the same emotional upheaval she had been through, followed by the inevitable painful rejection.

  Shane had terminated their relationship before she knew she was pregnant. He had rejected her, cut her out of his life with a finality that left no room for questions. It was an action that had slammed the door shut on any possibility of a discussion about what had gone wrong. For a long time she questioned herself about what she’d done that had driven him away. It wasn’t until after her son was born that she stopped blaming herself for a decision that was entirely Shane’s.

  Cynthia knew she could not avoid running into Shane after she moved back to Pueblo, but she never dreamed it would be in such a dramatic and unsettling manner. She had only given superficial thought to what she would do when she did run into him, without speculating too much about the circumstances. The situation now dictated that she needed to make some hard decisions.

  Did she owe Shane the opportunity to know his son? Was it possible to reveal the truth without Bobby being an innocent pawn caught in the middle? Could she prevent her son from being hurt the way she had been?

  All she had were questions—and her fears. She had no answers.

  Two

  Shane paused at the top of the stairs. The house was quiet, just as it was every morning, only today was different. He was not alone in the house. Apparently Cynthia and her son were still asleep. He couldn’t suppress a little snort of resentment. A decent night’s sleep was more than he’d been able to accomplish. He had tossed and turned after going to bed, waking every thirty minutes or so. He didn’t know what the morning would bring and wasn’t at all sure he was prepared to face it.

  Heading for the den, Shane intended to open the sliding doors and let in the fresh morning air. He hadn’t taken more than two steps across the room when he came to an abrupt halt. A little boy lay sprawled on his stomach in front of the bookcase. It was a sight that gave him quite a start, grabbing his senses as much as his attention. He’d assumed her son was two or maybe three years old. This boy appeared to be about five.