Fortune's Secret Child

by Delacorte, Shawna

  She turned away from him. “Perhaps it would be better if Bobby and I were to check into a motel, after all, so your routine won’t be disturbed.” Her words contained a bit of an edge even though they were meant more for herself than him.

  His hand came down on her arm and he turned her toward him. She stared at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze. Then he grasped her shoulders, which sent a surge of excitement rippling across her skin. His voice enveloped her like a warm embrace. Anything he said at that moment would sound as soft as a sensual caress. “You know that’s not practical. Nor is it fair to Bobby.”

  He pulled her closer. His breath tickled her cheek. Then he enclosed her in his arms, holding her body tightly against his. His heartbeat resonated in her, conveying his strength and filling her with a sense of safety and well-being. It felt so good being in his arms again. For a brief moment she was transported back to a time when her life was simple and she had no worries. If only she could figure out how to make time stand still so the feeling could last forever.

  A flash of reality quickly brought her back into focus. She could not allow any type of intimacy between Shane and herself, regardless of the tingling warmth rushing through her veins now. It was far too risky. She shoved back from him. Her primary concern was to protect her son and guard his identity. That had to come before anything else.

  She put as much conviction into her voice as she could muster, all the while fighting down the trepidation that tried to work its way to the open. “We’ve been down this road before, Shane. Let’s not travel it again. I’ve done a lot of growing up since I last saw you. I can take care of myself—and my son.”

  She hurried back to the kitchen and away from Shane. She took a calming breath in an attempt to rid herself of the highly charged combination of excitement and apprehension coursing through her body—both caused by her physical contact with Shane. But it didn’t help to pacify her nearly unmanageable emotions that were running amok as a result of their physical contact. And the most frightening aspect was that it had all happened so quickly—and so easily. One moment she was alone and the next she was in his arms, allowing his strength and sensual warmth to flow through her.

  She turned her attention to Bobby, fixing him with a loving smile that she hoped covered the out-of-control anxiety rampaging through her body. “Have you finished your dinner?”

  “Yeah, I finished everything.” Bobby grinned from ear to ear as he held up his plate to show her. He looked at her expectantly. “Can I have my ice cream now?”

  “You sure can.” She scooped some chocolate ice cream into a bowl and set it on the table in front of him. Then she carried his plate to the sink. That’s when she noticed it. He had tried to throw away some of his vegetables, rather than eating all of them. She started to say something, then changed her mind. Grinning, she realized that she had done the same thing when she was his age. But as she rinsed off the plate and put it in the dishwasher, a shiver darted across the back of her neck, and her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t need to turn around to know what had caused it. Instinctively she knew Shane was standing in the doorway watching her. She felt his eyes on her, a sensation that left her very unnerved.

  Four

  This was definitely a different woman from the one he had known before, Shane thought as he leaned against the doorjamb and watched as Cynthia dished up Bobby’s ice cream. The tightness pulled across his chest, leaving him decidedly unsettled. Just looking at her sent a charge of desire through his body the same way it always had, but now there was more.

  For perhaps the first time he consciously looked past the beautiful face, the creamy skin and the sensuality that had, in the past, soothed him after a weary day. This was an independent assertive woman who was not afraid to speak her mind. This was a new dimension to her character, one he found very appealing. It was also something that would be the cause of continued conflict between them unless he could find some sort of neutral ground.

  His life had been running smoothly. He had problems to deal with, but he knew what he was doing and what he needed to do. Her arrival had turned his entire world upside down. Even just the thought of her made his pulse race and his breathing difficult. He tried to make some sense of his escalating bewilderment, but his confusion ran unchecked. He had come to the realization long ago that he’d made a huge mistake when he’d terminated his relationship with Cynthia McCree. And now she had a son. A son who should have been his.

  It was a thought that continued to jar his reality. Bobby was a terrific little boy. Every time he thought about what could have been, it tore him up inside.

  He also had another dynamic to consider, another problem to try to work through. Before he could hope to establish any type of relationship with Cynthia, he needed to work hard to win her back. It was a matter of trust, something he had destroyed between them six years ago. He also knew there could be no type of a relationship with her without a firmly established relationship with Bobby.

  He drew in a steadying breath and stepped into the kitchen. His light and easy outer attitude hid the uncertainty churning inside him. He extended a questioning smile. “Do you have any more ice cream there for someone else who ate all his vegetables?” She looked up. He saw the wariness in her eyes but wasn’t sure what it meant.

  “I suppose so.” She dished up another scoop of ice cream and handed the bowl to him without further comment.

  Shane ate the ice cream while watching Cynthia as she finished cleaning the kitchen. “That was a good dinner, Cynthia.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her words sounded as frosty as his ice cream tasted. Was it just his imagination? She seemed to be avoiding any personal contact, even something as simple as looking directly at him. He pushed on, determined to make some sort of small talk with her, if nothing else.

  “It’s sort of a nuisance to cook for only one person. I usually end up with something from the freezer that I can pop into the microwave, or I eat out. It was nice having a truly home-cooked meal for a change.”

  When she didn’t respond, he carried his empty bowl to the sink and tried another topic of conversation, one where she would have to say something. “How are things coming with your father’s estate? Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Her entire body seemed to go slack as if she could no longer maintain her stiff posture. She emitted a sigh of despair and leaned back against the counter. Her voice carried a weariness. “It’s not going well at all. I can’t believe what a mess it is. Even the things that are obvious are a convoluted disaster from a legal standpoint. So far, it’s been a real nightmare.”

  “What’s the problem? Is there something I can help with?”

  “A lot of it is the technicality of making everything consistent. It seems that he kept signing documents using variations of his name. Sometimes he’d use only his first and last name, other times it was his first name and middle initial, and on other documents he used his first name and full middle name. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d been consistent within the confines of a transaction.

  “On his car, for example, he has his signature one way on the title, another way on the registration and yet another way on the bank loan for the car. It’s going to be a matter of obtaining a legal document stating that all three signatures are the same person and then having to deal individually with all entities involved. It’s that way on just about everything he owns—car, bank accounts, deeds to land. And to complicate things even more, there’re notations about a couple of safe-deposit boxes and one safe-deposit box key, but there’s no readily available information about where these boxes are located.”

  Again she could not stop a little sigh of despair. “I’m afraid it’s going to mean a lot of standing in lines at various windows and going through state and county records, plus numerous phone calls to even determine what he owns and what he no longer owns before I can even start straightening out the signature problem.”

  A sob caught in her th
roat as she blinked away a tear. She had been fighting the emotion surrounding her father’s death while battling the tangle of his estate. That, combined with the unexpected upheaval of being thrown back together with Shane, had started to take its toll. She wanted so much to be strong and project a calm control while keeping the real state of her nerves hidden, but it was a losing battle.

  She tried one last time to pull herself together. “He was living in a pigsty of an apartment in near-poverty conditions, yet he owns real estate and has several bank accounts.”

  Cynthia finally looked up at Shane, her features contorted into a mask of anger and disbelief. He saw her fight back the tears, but she could not hold back the rush of angry words. “How could he do this to me? How could he have allowed his entire life to become such a mess and then leave it to me to fix?”

  “Mommy? Are you mad at Grandpa?”

  The shock of Bobby’s question brought her up short. She hadn’t realized he was listening to her. She knelt next to him and carefully measured her words, making sure no hint of anger crept into her voice. “No, of course not. I’m not mad at Grandpa.”

  “You sounded mad. Did Grandpa do something bad?”

  She hugged Bobby to her as she fought back another tear. She struggled to get her emotional outburst under control. “No, honey, Grandpa didn’t do anything bad.” She closed her eyes and took a calming breath, silently berating herself for allowing her emotions to show in front of Bobby.

  She stood up and took Bobby’s hand. “It’s getting late. Almost your bedtime. Why don’t you go up to your room and pick out a book we can read together? While you’re doing that, I’ll put the rest of these dishes in the dishwasher, then I’ll be right up.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “Okay?”

  “Can Shane come to bed with us, too? We can all read a story.”

  She nearly choked on Bobby’s unexpected question. It took her a few seconds to regain her breath. She scrambled to come up with an appropriate reply. “Uh, well, I think Shane has other things he needs to do right now. You run up and pick out a book, and I’ll be up in a couple of minutes.” She watched as he climbed the stairs to the second floor.

  She knew her face was flushed a bright crimson. She didn’t dare look at Shane. She busied herself with little chores. Then, without looking in Shane’s direction, she hurried toward the kitchen door.

  Shane grabbed her arm, bringing her to a halt. A soft chuckle accompanied his words. “Kids say the darnedest things, don’t they?”

  She maneuvered her arm out of his grasp as she turned to face him. “It was the innocent remark of a child, nothing more. Certainly not an invitation.” Once again memories of passion-filled nights flooded her mind. “You’ve apparently made quite an impression on him.”

  He again saw the wariness in her eyes and felt the tension in her body. He immediately dropped any attempt to make light of what Bobby had said and returned to their previous topic of conversation. “It sounds as if your father’s estate is going to be a lot more work and take more time than you originally anticipated.”

  “Yes—”

  He stopped her before she said anything else. She had to stay, and it was up to him to convince her. “Which is all the more reason for you and Bobby to stay here until you have everything straightened out. It’s certainly more comfortable for you than a motel would be. You’ll have a quiet place to take care of your business. You won’t have a motel charging you an outrageous fee for every phone call you make. And as far as Bobby is concerned, you know he’ll be much safer here in a gated community than at a motel where strangers are constantly coming and going.”

  His manner softened as he took her hand. Her muscles tensed, but she didn’t pull away. “I can imagine how hard this must be for you,” he said. “It’s stressful enough to pack up your life and move across the country to start over, even more stressful when you do it with a child. And then losing a parent on top of that and having to deal with the nightmare of his estate. The very least I can do is supply you with a safe and tranquil place to pull yourself together and take care of your business. In fact, I insist. This is probably what Kate had in mind when she sent you here.”

  She studied him for a moment. She could see the honesty and sincerity on his face and hear it in his voice. When she set aside her personal concerns and viewed the situation in an unbiased light, she knew he was right. Somehow she had to bear up under the stress of a daily association with a man who could rip her life apart if he ever learned the truth about Bobby. She prayed she had the strength to handle it, but had never felt as unsure about anything in her life.

  She nervously cleared her throat, then rushed her words while she still had the ability to get them out. “You’re right. It does make sense—for the time being.” She renewed her determination. “But as soon as the estate stuff is done, I’ll be looking for a job and a house of my own. Hopefully we won’t be in your way very long.”

  His voice was soft, his words genuine. “You’re welcome for as long as it takes.”

  It was a quiet moment as they stood in the kitchen, Shane continuing to clasp her hand in his. Cynthia allowed the physical contact, taking delight in the sensual pleasure that flowed from his touch. It was as if a truce had been signed and some of the friction resolved. The moment was one of intimate softness that stirred up equally intimate memories and desires.

  A somewhat flustered Cynthia finally broke the silence. “I...I’d better get upstairs. Bobby is expecting a story.”

  “As soon as you’re done, I have some things I want to discuss with you. Perhaps you’ll join me for a glass of wine?”

  She finally slipped her hand out of his. Her words were almost a whisper as if she was afraid to say them. “If you’d like.”

  Shane watched as she climbed the stairs, then he opened a bottle of wine and retrieved two glasses from the cupboard. It was a nice evening so he carried everything out to the patio. There had been a time when he believed he knew everything she thought and everything she felt. He had not allowed the idea that she might be as strong a woman as the one he’d seen since he’d found her in his house a couple of nights ago—strong, independent and determined. They were qualities that suited her well. They had transformed a beautiful woman who had driven his senses wild into someone even more desirable.

  He poured himself a glass of wine, then leaned back in his chair and stared at the swimming pool. The underwater lights caused the water to shimmer brightly in the surrounding darkness. He didn’t fight the thoughts that circulated through his mind. He wanted to help her, but more importantly he wanted her back in his life. It was not going to be easy. He needed to be cautious so he didn’t end up doing something he might regret. The truth was, he didn’t know exactly what he wanted. He hadn’t been this confused since he’d tried to justify his deplorable actions of six years ago when he cut Cynthia McCree out of his life.

  And lurking in the back of his mind, but never far away from his primary thoughts, was her son. There had been a couple of times when he could have questioned Bobby about his father—when he’d wanted to ask him some questions—but had decided against it at the last moment. He wasn’t even sure why. Perhaps he was afraid to find out what had happened. Perhaps he didn’t want to dredge up the very real possibility that he was responsible for driving her directly into the arms of a man who had treated her badly, then deserted her in her time of need.

  If that was what had happened. A tremor made its way through his body, then settled in his stomach as an uncomfortable churning. There was another notion about Bobby’s parentage swirling around even further in the back of his mind. It had not crystallized into a solid thought, at least not yet, but the very essence left him troubled and unsettled. He took a sip of his wine in an effort to calm his jangled nerves.

  Cynthia’s return interrupted his wandering thoughts before they went too far astray and ended up someplace he wasn’t ready to go. He poured her a glass of wine. She took it, then seated herself acros
s the table from him.

  “Bobby went right to sleep. I think he really wore himself out in the pool today.”

  “He sure seems to like the water.”

  “He loves it. Living here will really be good for him.” The unintentional implication of her words produced an awkward pause. She felt the heated flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks again. “I didn’t mean living here. I meant, our moving to Pueblo would allow him to be outdoors and have access to a swimming pool year-round, other than the one at the YMCA.” An amused twinkle darted through his eyes. She didn’t know whether to be irritated with him for making fun of her or embarrassed by what she had said.

  “What made you decide to move back to Pueblo? Was it your father’s health?”

  “No, I had already given notice at my job and was packing when I found out he’d been taken to the hospital.” Her brow furrowed as some of her earlier anger shot through her again. “If only he’d told me...if only I’d known he was in bad health, then maybe...if I’d been here, instead of Chicago, I could have straightened out...”

  She shook her head while staring down at her wineglass. Her voice was soft, her words hesitant. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry like that, and earlier, in front of Bobby...I can’t imagine what prompted me to say those things.”

  She looked up, making fleeting eye contact with Shane before turning her gaze away. “I must have sounded horrible, taking my frustrations out on my father like that.”

  “It’s perfectly natural, you know. Anger is one of the steps in the grieving process.”

  She looked out across the swimming pool, took several deep breaths to calm her nerves, then stared at her glass again. Her audible sigh only served to reinforce the despair that filled her voice. “If only he’d told me he was in bad health. I called him a couple of times every month just to talk and he spent every Christmas since I left Pueblo at my house, but he never mentioned any health problems. Just last month we discussed my decision to move back to Pueblo and he never said...”