Her Sister's Secret (Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance)

by Linda Style

  Whitney was surprised. It was obvious something still bothered him, yet he was making a conscious effort to change his attitude. To say she was confused was an understatement.

  On the road she turned to look at him. He’d exchanged the jacket for a blue denim shirt that made his cobalt eyes seem more intense—if that was possible. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows and she caught herself watching the way his muscles moved and flexed as he gripped the wheel. His hair was still tousled and he had one of those quizzical little-boy expressions on his face.

  Oddly, an image of Rhys as he’d looked last night, standing naked near the bed, popped into her mind. She’d never been so fascinated by a man’s body before, not even in the art classes she’d taken in France.

  “What?” He glanced at her, as if reading her thoughts. “What’s going on in there?” He tapped her forehead with a finger, then shifted his focus back to the road.

  “Nothing.” She smirked. “Nothing at all.”

  “Right.” He nodded disbelievingly. “So what did you think of Luth?”

  Luth? “Oh, uh, Luth… Uh, yeah, he was the perfect guide,” she answered, remembering Luther’s attempts to be as accommodating as Rhys had apparently told him to be.

  Rhys did a double take, gave her a dimpled grin and said, “As perfect as moi?”

  Relieved to be back on even ground, Whitney chuckled. She liked his not-so-subtle wit. And that he seemed himself again. “Well-l-l, let’s say on a scale of one to ten, he was a nine.”

  Rhys’s fingers drummed on the wheel.

  “And you are definitely a ten,” she said without hesitation. Then thinking he may misinterpret that to mean last night’s encounter, she added, “On the guide scale.” On the other scale, too, but given their circumstances, there was no point in even thinking about that.

  “Anyway, to answer your question, I like him. He seems genuine, said you’d been friends since childhood.”

  “Uh-huh.” Rhys nodded. “It’s been a while.” He peered at Whitney. “Yeah, since fourth grade. We were ten. Thirty years. Man, that’s hard to believe.”

  “Guess you guys have been through a lot together?” Whitney was impressed by such an enduring friendship. In her own life, the only close friend she’d made was Tanya, but she hadn’t met her until college.

  “Yeah.” Rhys nodded again, keeping his eyes on the road. “We’ve been through some hard times together. He was my hero as a kid and I wanted to be as tough as he was. Remember when I told you I grew up in a run-down area of Chicago?”

  He turned briefly to her for confirmation. “Well, I was the neighborhood runt and ripe for being terrorized by one particular bully and his gang. And every day without fail, they found some way to do it. But I was a determined little kid and decided I wouldn’t ever let them win without a fight. Each time they jumped me, I fought harder.” He chuckled derisively. “Always got the stuffing kicked out of me,” he said ruefully, “but I never gave up.

  “Then one day, during one of the worst fights ever, this badass kid comes outta nowhere and starts pummeling those jerks right along with me. It was Luth. From that time on, I would’ve given him my right arm if he needed it. He’s a true friend. Been one ever since.”

  “He said the same thing about you. In fact, he couldn’t say enough about how he’d always wished he had your intelligence, your charm, and…your good looks.”

  Rhys scoffed.

  “It’s true,” Whitney insisted. “He said he’s learned a lot from you.”

  “Yeah. He would say that.” A melancholy look clouded Rhys’s eyes. “I almost had to leave college because I couldn’t pay the tuition once my scholarship came to an end. Luth bailed me out.

  “I couldn’t tell my parents because they’d just put their life savings together to buy the hardware store in Estrade. It was their dream and I know they would’ve sacrificed it for me. I couldn’t let them do that. Luth knew it, too, and he lent me the money. A few years later, when I was down about the divorce, Luth got me back on track.”

  Whitney watched the subtle change in Rhys’s mood. Instead of withdrawing as she thought he might, he continued, but she could tell it was taking a toll on him. When he mentioned his divorce, his words were laced with anger and bitterness.

  Not unlike her own feelings about her past.

  “Five years of marriage down the tubes and nothing to show for it. My ex took my son and left. She kept him from me and poisoned his mind. When he was nine, she decided on a summer in Europe and sent R.J. to stay with me.”

  Whitney felt as if she’d been slapped. A son. He did have a son. But she’d been right, too. There was a reason he hadn’t mentioned him.

  Rhys shook his head and he blew out a burst of air. “Big mistake. R.J. hated me. She’d lied to him about me for four years and there was nothing I could do to change it.”

  Whitney saw bitterness shift to pain as Rhys talked, and her heart went out to him. She guessed that his having a daughter now made up for some of the heartache he’d endured over the loss of his son.

  “R.J.? Is that Rhys, Jr.?”

  He nodded.

  “Does he still live with his mother?”

  Rhys shook his head again, eyes darkening. “Nope. But that’s another whole ugly story.”

  “I’m sorry, Rhys.” Whitney reached out to touch his arm.

  Surprisingly, Rhys went on, almost as if he had to get it all out. “R.J. became incorrigible. His mother couldn’t handle him. She’d spoiled him, given him everything a kid could want. She gave him too damn much. When he got into trouble with the law one time too many, she washed her hands of him.

  “R.J. left home at sixteen—about the same time I left Chicago.” He gave another derisive laugh. “I didn’t know he’d even gone.” His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “If I had, I would’ve done something right then and there.”

  Whitney’s mind spun. Sixteen? For some reason, she hadn’t thought he’d be that old. And if he’d left home when Rhys left Chicago, that was five years ago. Which would make the kid she quickly calculated—twenty-one now.

  Her mouth went dry.

  “And have you seen him since?” Whitney asked, hoping she didn’t sound as shocked as she felt.

  “Two years ago he came looking for help. He needed money and a place to stay with SaraJane. I gave them shelter and as much money as I could spare. Then one day he disappeared, leaving me with the baby.”

  A place to stay with SaraJane? Leaving him with the baby? Whitney tried to speak. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Struggling with her confusion, she stammered, “Wh-what then?”

  Rhys checked his mirrors, then pulled off the road and into a rest area. “Gotta make a pit stop.” He indicated she should do the same.

  With her heart lodged in her throat, Whitney moved like a robot responding mechanically to an order. She went into the washroom. Was Rhys saying SaraJane wasn’t his daughter? That she was really his granddaughter—his son’s child? She searched her mind, trying to pinpoint any time when Rhys had actually said SaraJane was his daughter.

  So many questions made her dizzy. If SaraJane was Rhys’s son’s child, where was his son now? And who had legal custody? Would R.J. return and snatch SaraJane again—maybe while Rhys and Whitney were gone? A sharp pain seized in her chest.

  She splashed cold water on her face.

  Maybe she hadn’t heard him correctly?

  Maybe… Oh, dear God…

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  RHYS SLID INTO the driver’s seat, then reached over to lift her chin with his fingertips. “Sorry to drop all that in your lap. Seems I got on a roll.”

  He held her gaze, as if he was seeking something there. Turning to face front, he started the car, gave a cursory glance over his left shoulder and pulled onto the highway.

  “We’ll turn off in a few miles and then you’ll see the most spectacular scenery in the state.” He threw her a smile, one that seemed forced. “Next to the Grand Canyon, th
at is.”

  The tension around his mouth didn’t escape her. Talking about his son was obviously painful for him, yet he was still concerned about her enjoyment. But enjoyment was the last thing on Whitney’s mind. She had to find out exactly what was going on—and she had to do it now.

  “Rhys?” She touched his shoulder. “I’m glad you told me about your son. I had a few misconceptions.”

  “Misconceptions?”

  “I…I thought… No, I take that back. I assumed SaraJane was your daughter.”

  At that, his eyes lit up, and a huge grin split his face.

  “I wish,” he said emphatically, apparently taken with the idea. Then, like quicksilver, both his expression and tone of voice sobered. “If she were, I wouldn’t worry as much as I do about what’s going to happen.”

  “What…what do you mean? What’s going to happen?”

  “My son is in prison.”

  Whitney’s heart dropped so hard she thought he’d heard the crash. She stared at him silently, searching for words. “Prison? Oh, Rhys. How terrible.”

  “After he left SaraJane with me, I didn’t hear a thing for six months. That’s when I decided to move from Phoenix to Estrade. Mom and Dad had sold the hardware store and bought the inn a few years before, and they offered to help out with SaraJane. I’d been contemplating leaving my position at the Kelper Corporation for several months, for other reasons, and…well, the timing seemed right. I figured Estrade was a better place to raise a kid than Phoenix.”

  “Phoenix?” Whitney frowned. “When did you move to Phoenix? And wasn’t the Kelper Corporation the one indicted in that junk-bond scandal?” Had Rhys been involved in that? Lord, she felt even more dizzy.

  “Yep, it was. If I’d known the whole story…” He shrugged. “I moved from Chicago to Phoenix looking for upward mobility. Took a job as Kelper’s chief financial officer. I had no idea what the guy was doing, and when I found out, I took SaraJane and my company pension, bought the shop in Estrade and got the hell out of Phoenix. Then I notified the authorities.

  “Later, when it all came out about Kelper, it looked like I’d taken my share and split.” He laughed scornfully. “No one could prove anything, though, because it wasn’t true, but it’s been the bane of my existence. It’s what prevented me from getting the bank loan yesterday.”

  Good grief. Whitney’s emotions alternated between shock and sympathy. “And R.J.?”

  “When we finally heard from R.J., he’d been arrested.” Rhys kept his gaze riveted on the road. “For murder—a bank robbery gone bad.”

  Whitney gasped, but Rhys went on as if he’d opened the floodgates and couldn’t stop the torrent.

  “When I called R.J.’s mother to ask for her help, she told me to get lost, saying she’d disowned him when he left home. So I hired an attorney to defend him. The jury found him guilty and we appealed the decision.”

  Rhys stomped on the gas, accelerating to seventy, then seventy-five. “After that, R.J. told me to stay away, said he never wanted to see me again. I guess he figured I’d let him down again. And,” he added remorsefully, “he’s probably right. I should’ve done something years ago when it might have made a difference.”

  “Rhys, I’m so sorry,” was all she could utter.

  “Forget it. That’s what I try to do most of the time.”

  She didn’t believe he could forget it. Not for a minute. And seeing his pain, imagining what he’d been through, tore at her. He must have married very young to be the father of a twenty-one year old. She’d learned earlier from Greta that Rhys was forty-two, so that meant he’d been married at twenty-one. No, actually before that given time for his wife’s pregnancy. Twenty, she decided. And divorced five years later.

  So very young to be married. How could two people make a long-term commitment at such a young age, she couldn’t imagine. It was a recipe for disaster. She wanted to ask questions, but Rhys had turned quiet, his gaze intent on the twisting mountain roads.

  The most important question she had was who had legal custody of SaraJane? And how would this new information affect what she had to do?

  The only good thing was that since his son was in jail, he wasn’t a threat. Not at the moment, anyway.

  Although she still wanted to tell Rhys the truth about why she’d really come to Estrade, this was definitely not the time.

  She needed time to think, to find out who had custody.

  It was Rhys, Jr., who’d lived with Morgan. Rhys’s son who was the slime—and he was SaraJane’s father. And he was in jail, just where a man like him should be.

  Of course! It all made sense.

  Her body trembled inside as a sense of relief washed over her. This changed everything. And she was glad. Oh, God, she was glad!

  Because it meant that Rhys and Morgan never had a relationship. Because it meant her sister’s secret was not a secret at all, and Morgan hadn’t been vindictive and lied about Rhys. She just hadn’t given Whitney enough information. She didn’t even know R.J. was in prison…didn’t know SaraJane was safe with her grandfather. She pressed her fingers to her lips as her throat closed and she blinked back tears. She quickly shifted position to look out the passenger side window so Rhys couldn’t see her and wonder what was going on.

  Turning off the main highway and onto a narrower road, Rhys said, “I have to show you something. And you’d better get your camera out.”

  Camera? The last thing she felt like doing was taking photographs. He’d handed her a lot of unexpected information that had blown her carefully constructed assumptions all to hell. She had more important things to think about than the landscape.

  But he was excited about it and had apparently taken the scenic route for her benefit. Rounding the next corner, Rhys nudged her arm. She looked up. Vermillion monoliths sprang up from the earth in the distance like huge red dinosaurs, and the sight took her breath away.

  “Rhys, it’s awesome. Can we stop?” She wrestled with the camera case and dragged out a wide-angle lens.

  “Not yet,” he said with a wide smile. “It’s better as we get closer to Sedona.”

  “I don’t know how it could get any better. It’s magnificent…the most spectacular scenery I’ve ever seen,” she rambled on. “Except for the Grand Canyon, I mean, although I haven’t ever been to the Grand Canyon, but I’ve seen photographs. And this. Well…”

  Words could not describe the emotions tumbling through her. Rhys’s revelations, the scenery, his thoughtfulness, her confusion…and elation. Everything was all jumbled together, and it was too much—just too, too much. She felt as if any moment she might implode.

  But, for the first time since she’d been on this journey, she had a fleeting thought that maybe…just maybe it would all turn out okay.

  She opened the window and inhaled deeply of cedar and pine. “It smells like Christmas,” she said, barely able to contain the jumble of emotions warring within. “It’s just so…so beautiful.”

  “I figured you’d like it.” Rhys’s chest expanded, his pleasure at her response evident. He whipped the Jeep around the next corner and took a small road to the top of a scenic overlook and parked.

  They got out, and he motioned for her to go ahead. “Take your time. I’ll wait right here.” He leaned on a boulder, waving her off. “Go.”

  Rhys studied Whitney as she assessed the landscape, set up her shot and clicked off the photo. Each time he’d been to Sedona, he was awed by the natural beauty surrounding him. Mother nature at its best. And never had he experienced greater delight than at this moment, watching Whitney revel in it.

  She saw things in a special way—more deeply than he did. Being with her made him want to see what she saw, feel what she felt. Her enthusiasm bubbled up like fine champagne, and he was intoxicated by it.

  She’d gotten to him. But it was more than that. She got him. At least that’s how it seemed. He watched her as she stood atop a rock, surveying the possibilities. Then she lowered her camera and rea
ched behind her head to remove the clasp holding her hair in place. She shook her hair out and let the wind take it.

  He remembered how she’d looked with her hair feathered across the pillow, how she’d opened so completely to him. His breathing deepened and the familiar tightening in his groin gave him pause.

  He’d thought making love with her would be the end of it. Instead, last night had merely whetted his appetite. He felt like a starving man in desperate need of a full meal. Except he needed more than food. More than slaking his physical desires.

  She liked him, he knew that. She liked SaraJane, he knew that, too. And, oddly, he liked the fact that she’d believed SaraJane was his child. He wished it was true.

  But it wasn’t. He wasn’t SaraJane’s father—any more than he was the kind of man to be involved with a woman like Whitney Sheffield. Regardless of his former successes, he had none of it now.

  He had no money, a business on the verge of bankruptcy, a son in prison for murder and enough legal costs to match the national debt. So why, exactly, had he told her about R.J.?

  He never talked about R.J.—to anyone. But maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d thought if she knew the worst and still stuck around, then maybe…

  He shook off the thought. He couldn’t afford to think that way.

  Eventually she’d leave. Maybe telling her about R.J. was a subconscious desire to hasten her departure. Make it easier on himself. Maybe knowing everything about him, she’d run the other way so fast he’d be a blur on the horizon.

  And he wouldn’t have to acknowledge his own feelings.

  His son was a constant burden on his heart and never far from his mind. He had no business inviting anyone else, never mind this woman, into the mess his life had become.

  After the trial, R.J. had fired the attorney and told Rhys not to visit him anymore. And Rhys vowed he would never abandon his son again. Even though R.J. might have been guilty of drug dealing at one time, he’d sworn he was clean now and also sworn he wasn’t involved in the murder. And a father had to stand by his son, no matter what. And he had. For the past six months, he’d visited R.J. regularly. It didn’t matter whether R.J. was receptive or not.