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

by Linda Style

  Rhys was puzzled, too. Whitney got what she’d wanted, and now she’d asked him to keep SaraJane even longer. Maybe she was feeling guilty about the whole thing and was offering him some compensation?

  From his perspective, it was just prolonging the inevitable. If he had only himself to worry about, he’d want it over and done with.

  Maybe then he could get on with his life—without SaraJane. Without Whitney. Funny how he couldn’t think of one without the other. How long would it take him to stop expecting SaraJane to run into his arms every day when he came home…to stop seeing her smile, hearing her laughter? How long would it take him to forget how Whitney felt in his arms?

  Never, he suspected. He didn’t think he’d ever forget any of it—nor did he want to.

  “Yeah. It’s what she wanted. And she has every right,” Rhys admitted, surprisingly protective of Whitney’s status. “SaraJane is her niece. That’s more than I can say.”

  Johnny cocked his chin toward Rhys and took off his bifocals. He pulled a clean hanky from his pocket and started wiping the lenses. “Yep,” he said, and wiped some more. “But somehow I got the impression that the two of you…”

  “That the two of us what?” Rhys said, his tone sharp.“The two of us were at cross-purposes. Two storm fronts moving against each other.”

  Johnny shook his head. “Nope. Uh-uh. That’s not what I saw. And I’m pretty darn good at people-watching.”

  “And what exactly did you see?” Rhys hated to ask, but again, hope flickered.

  “I saw two people who should be spending the rest of their lives together. Two people in love.”

  Rhys scoffed. “Thanks, Dad. But I don’t think so. I think this is one time wishful thinking took over.”

  Johnny shrugged. “I saw it.”

  “Okay. Fine.” Rhys’s face went somber. “But I can only speak for myself, Dad.”

  “And have you?”

  Sadly, no. he shook his head.

  “Then why don’t you? What do you have to lose by approaching her?”

  Rhys cracked his knuckles. He had nothing and everything to lose. His self-respect for one. Sure, he could go to her, tell her what was in his heart, and what would she think? She’d think he was making a last-ditch effort to keep SaraJane in his life, that was what.

  “It wouldn’t work, Dad. She’s got her life and I’ve got mine. They’re not even remotely the same. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Slow and easy, Johnny returned his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “You hear about Charley?”

  Rhys nodded, relieved at the change of subject. “Last I heard, he was headed to the assay office. Did that ol’ grizzly finally hit the mother lode?”

  Shaking his head, no, Rhys didn’t feel the excitement, though he should be elated for the guy. Charley had given that mine his whole life.

  “Yessir. It was enough to ask Mabel for her hand in marriage.” Johnny gave a huge grin.

  Rhys’ head snapped up, and he had to grin. “Why, that old rogue. After all these years? What the hell?”

  Johnny ambled into the office and Rhys followed. “Guess he thought that since Mabel owned the restaurant and all and he didn’t have a dime of his own, she wouldn’t want him.”

  Rhys laughed. “So he wasted all that time? Anyone could see they were crazy about each other.”

  Plucking up some papers from Rhys’s desk, Johnny studied them and without looking at Rhys said, “Guess he was wearing blinders. Believed she was too rich for him or some such nonsense.”

  Rhys tagged his dad on the shoulder. “You’re so subtle.”

  Johnny cleared his throat. “Subtle, hell. I’m right. Nothing subtle about that.”

  “The situation is different.”

  “She loves you, boy,” Johnny said affectionately. He took his jacket from the closet and walked to the door.

  “Anyone can see that.”

  Later that night, when he brought SaraJane home and after she’d asked about Whitney for the hundredth time, Rhys told her she could go and stay with Whitney for a while. Then, tucking her into bed, he’d asked her what she’d think if he told her he’d just found out that Whitney was her aunt.

  SaraJane beamed. “Like Chrissy? Chrissy has a aunt. Am I going to have a aunt like Chrissy?”

  “Well, sweetheart…” Rhys sat on the side of the bed, facing her. He reached over, ruffled her golden curls, then cupped her tiny chin in his hand. “Yes, you are.”

  SaraJane’s eyes rounded like saucers, and a dimpled smile lit her perfect little face. “Yay.” She clapped her hands. “Can I get a mommy, too? Like Chrissy and Jennifer?” she asked excitedly.

  Rhys’s heart split.

  “If you want that, sweetheart. I’m sure Whitney would like nothing better than to be your mommy. She loves you, you know.”

  SaraJane’s dimples deepened. “I love her, too, Poppy. I want her to be my mommy.”

  Rhys lightly brushed her cheek with a kiss, touched the tip of her nose and then her eyelids to close them. “Well, you have sweet dreams, punkin. We’ll see what we can work out.”

  SaraJane was still smiling when he tiptoed from the room. He’d tell her in bits and pieces. That seemed best.

  ***

  She couldn’t wait. She absolutely couldn’t wait. Whitney glanced around SaraJane’s room, making sure everything was there. A Pooh bear, another doll that looked as if she could be Miss Agatha’s sister, the small stove and table and chairs—everything SaraJane was used to, the things she had at home—at Rhys’s parents’ home.

  Lord, she was so ready for SaraJane she was sure she’d burst. Though her happiness came with an ache of regret, Whitney was happier than she’d been since…well, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so good. In addition to readying the house, she’d sold her apartment in New York and also made some decisions about her mother.

  After seeing Rhys’s unwavering support for his son, the way the whole family stuck together, she’d realized she’d never free herself from the anger and bitterness she harbored toward her parents unless she made an effort to understand. And that would never happen if she ran away, again.

  She’d gained new insight about her mom after talking with the clinic psychiatrist and decided, for her own sake, as well as her mother’s, that they both deserved another chance.

  Then she’d arranged to be Kathryn’s partner through the rehab process and vowed to do whatever she needed to get her mother through the program. By no stretch of the imagination was it the solution to their problems, nor would it wipe away their history. She had no illusions about the toll it might take.

  But she could do what the psychiatrist suggested—take it one day at a time.

  It was a start, and she felt so much better about herself for trying. Even a tiny bit hopeful. She could thank Rhys for making her see it was possible.

  He’d stood by R.J. and so had his parents. The last time she’d heard from Gretta, the boy had started therapy in prison. Gretta sounded positive and said he was making progress. Whether it was true or not didn’t matter. Whitney hoped for Rhys’s sake that it was.

  She’d learned so much from Rhys and his parents, her heart overflowed with with gratitude. Most importantly, though, she’d realized that to help herself, she had to open her heart.

  She had to risk getting hurt again. And she had to learn to forgive—not only her parents but herself. She had to forgive herself for not being there for Morgan. She hadn’t been in charge of Morgan’s life; she’d barely been able to salvage her own.

  Knowing those things and making the decision to try with her parents had brought her a new inner peace. If supporting her mother did any good at all, then maybe her father would see it and make some decisions of his own. It was all she could do; the rest was up to them. She had to learn what she could control and the rest she had to learn to let go.

  And letting go meant she had to stop thinking about it and be in the moment. She glanced around the room again. SaraJane’s
room was ready, the house was childproof, and Maddie had already moved into her quarters. Thank heaven for Maddie. Whitney had interviewed more nannies than she cared to see in a lifetime and had finally found the perfect one.

  Yes, she was ready. Now all she had to do was wait for SaraJane. When she’d called Rhys and told him she could fly out to get her niece, he’d insisted he needed to come to California for business and he would bring SaraJane then.

  Whitney had agreed because it might ease his mind to see where SaraJane would live and what her room looked like. That way, when he talked with SaraJane on the phone, he could picture it in his mind.

  All Rhys wanted was to assure himself that his little girl would be okay.

  His little girl. The thought sent a shiver up Whitney’s spine. Would she always think of SaraJane as his little girl? Would she always jump when the phone rang, hoping it might be Rhys? Would she always hope for something more? Or would those feelings fade with time?

  She doubted it, doubted it very much. She’d never experienced such deep emotions about any man. And even though he hated her now, Rhys Gannon would not be easy to forget.

  ***

  Rhys drove the rental car around the corner of the narrow street, taking in the homes lining the coast. Palatial homes, some hidden in lush coves, some right out there on the beach.

  “Poppy,” SaraJane gushed excitedly from her car seat in the back. “Look! Lots and lots of water. Can I go swimming?”

  “I don’t think this is the right time of year for swimming, kiddo, not in the ocean. It’s too cold, and besides, it’s going to get dark in an hour.”

  And you’ll have the rest of your life to swim in the ocean. His chest hurt. Damn, he’d hoped he’d have more control. He’d thought it would be easier for him to bring SaraJane here than it would be to watch her leave with Whitney.

  In the past two weeks he’d thought of every conceivable way to prevent this from happening—even down to leaving the country with SaraJane. He’d also thought of declaring his love for Whitney. Because he knew now anything worth having was worth more than his stupid pride.

  He’d tried out a slew of scenarios about how it might work—how they could maintain their careers, live in one place or both. She’d had some great ideas about his business, ideas he could implement with her help—if she was willing. If she wasn’t traveling the world. Travel was an important part of her work, her life. And her work meant everything to her.

  In the end it came down to doing what was best for SaraJane. That was all that really mattered. And he’d only recently begun to realize the child needed something he couldn’t give her. A mother. A little girl needed a mommy.

  Once he saw SaraJane’s excitement, he couldn’t have kept her from Whitney no matter what he’d wanted for himself. He couldn’t deny SaraJane what she deserved, what was rightfully hers.

  Fact was, he had no rights whatsoever. Even if Whitney kept her word about allowing SaraJane to visit, it was all at her own discretion. He had no rights. Period. The end. And he wasn’t about to do anything to screw things up for his little girl.

  He drove into a circular drive, his gaze drawn upward. The two-story white stucco home was magnificent. Even in his imaginings, he hadn’t pictured it quite like this. SaraJane would certainly have the best.

  When he stepped from the car, the humid salt air enveloped him. It was almost balmy for late October, he decided, remembering the times he’d been in Southern California on business.

  He lifted SaraJane from her car seat, and she wriggled down from his arms, then waited for him to hand her the small backpack she’d insisted on carrying because Whitney carried one.

  He’d convinced her to leave most of her things in Estrade, saying she’d be coming back. Or he could send them later. The resilience of a child, he thought ruefully. Would that he had some of it. Still, he hadn’t told her exactly how long she’d be staying…that it would be indefinitely.

  Rhys held SaraJane’s hand as she bounced excitedly waiting for the front door to open. She rang the bell again and he gently held her back. “Patience is a virtue,” he said, trying to lighten the moment.

  SaraJane looked up at him, eyes wide. “What’s a birtue?”

  He laughed. “Nothing, sweetie. Poppy is just being silly.”

  As he spoke, the door opened and a pleasant fiftyish woman stood before them. Rhys started to ask for Whitney when the woman knelt down to SaraJane’s level.

  “Well, hello, sweetheart. You must be SaraJane. I’m Maddie and we’ve been expecting you.” Her warmth seemed genuine.

  SaraJane said, “Hi. I’ve been ’specting to be here, too.”

  The woman laughed and stood up, smiling at Rhys.

  “Hello, I’m Maddie Harrison,” she repeated. “You must be Rhys. Please come in.”

  Following the woman into the foyer and through the living room, Rhys saw Whitney coming through a sliding door in a wall of windows that led directly to the ocean.

  The sight of her took his breath away. She wore gauzy vanilla-colored pants and a flowing matching top that was slit up the middle to the waist. Her pale hair hung loose, exactly the way he liked it.

  Hurrying toward them, she reached down and in one quick motion scooped SaraJane into her arms. Whitney whirled around and smiled over her shoulder at Rhys, and something warm and wonderful unfolded in his chest just watching them.

  Yeah, SaraJane would be just fine. What more could he ask?

  Whitney set the child down, then hugged Rhys as if they were old friends and there’d never been anything more between them. He’d wondered how he’d feel seeing her again—wondered what he’d say.

  And now he knew. They’d act like friends. Even though he wanted her. Loved her.

  Moments later they sat at a table on the deck sipping coffee and making small talk while SaraJane drank milk and chomped on one of the chocolate-chip cookies Whitney had baked.

  “Go ahead,” Whitney said, seeing him eye the platter. “But just remember, I don’t know the Heimlich maneuver.”

  She remembered. He wasn’t the only one who remembered the first time he’d touched her. Rhys snatched a cookie and took a bite. “Not bad,” he said after swallowing. “I’m surprised. I didn’t know you could bake.”

  “Lots of things you don’t know about me, I guess.” Her tone was sexy, challenging.

  “Oh, you’re probably right. But I know the important things.” His eyes searched hers for a connection, and almost instantly he was lost in those transparent blue eyes…eyes that said she still felt something for him.

  Oh, boy. Time to get a grip. Was he losing his mind? Hallucinating? He shoved the cup away. “I think I’d better go now.” He wasn’t going to let himself believe this was anything more than what it was.

  His palms started to sweat. He got up and motioned SaraJane to come over, then knelt next to her.

  “Listen, punkin…” His voice broke. SaraJane threw her arms around him in a fierce hug.

  ***

  Whitney’s heart constricted. She clutched her throat, then touched fingertips to her lips as she watched the two of them. Still crouched, Rhys set her apart from him and began again, his chin quivering just the tiniest bit. She saw the shine of tears in his eyes.

  “I think it’s about time…” He cleared his throat. “About time for me to go.”

  Whitney’s chin begin to quiver, too.

  “We’ll see each other soon, sweetheart, and you be…” His shoulders heaved upward as he drew in a calming breath, his voice almost a whisper. “You be a good girl for Whitney, okay?”

  “Poppy, don’t go!” SaraJane flung both arms around his neck, again. “I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here with us,” she demanded.

  Rhys hugged her and Whitney saw him struggling to stay focused…to win the battle of emotions that had to be warring within him. He smoothed SaraJane’s hair from her face and held her at arm’s length, looking deeply into her eyes. When he spoke, the tears were in
his voice.

  “Hey, remember what we talked about? Remember our pact?”

  SaraJane nodded, her curls bouncing.

  “And you have all the phone numbers so you can call me collect whenever you want.”

  SaraJane nodded again and he tweaked her nose.

  “See, no problems. And remember…” He cleared his throat a second time. “Remember how much Poppy loves you.” He looked at Whitney and his voice broke again as he finished. “And how much Whitney loves you, too.”

  “Yes,” SaraJane whispered.

  “So give Poppy one last hug and then go play for a little while.” When she put her arms around his neck, he held on, burying his face in his little girl’s shoulder, smelling the scent of her, imprinting this moment in his mind, forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  DEAR GOD. HOW COULD she do this? How could she be so cruel? Rhys’s controlled despair tore great chunks from Whitney’s heart, and it took every ounce of strength she possessed to hold back her emotions.

  When Rhys loosened his grip on SaraJane and pried her chubby fingers from around his neck, Whitney interrupted, her voice choked with emotion. “Rhys, please.” She touched his shoulder as he stood up. “Please, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

  She glanced at SaraJane, who looked up at her with all the love and trust in the world. “SaraJane, sweetheart, maybe Maddie can show you around for a few minutes while I talk to Poppy, okay?” Whitney nodded at Maddie, who instantly took over, taking the child by the hand, chattering as they disappeared down the hallway.

  “I have something to ask you, Rhys.” She looked at him, groping for words. Trying to work out her thoughts, she frowned and averted her gaze, looked down and swiped away the hair that fell in front of her face. Control. She had to stay in control. Smooth easy voice. Breathe…and for God’s sake, slow down.

  “I feel really foolish about this,” she said, waving a hand. “I just got this offer for an incredible shoot in Europe, and—” she laughed, a shaky warble that didn’t sound like her at all “—and wouldn’t you know, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”