The Texas CEO's Secret

by Nicole Foster

  Rubbing a hand over his neck, Blake blew out a long breath. “Why are we here?”

  “Tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say it’s nothing because I know that’s a lie.”

  “I can’t talk about this with you right now.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “I—can’t. I don’t even want to think about it. Can you just…” He seemed to flounder for words.

  He looked lost and without thinking, Katie put her arms around him and held him close. For a few seconds, he stiffened but, as if he couldn’t help himself, then pulled her into a tight embrace.

  Katie rested her head on his shoulder and thought about her rejection of his offer to go away, the two of them. Her answer should be the same except right now, Blake needed a friend, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He had no one else in his life willing to offer him comfort and support; certainly no one he would confide in. She wanted to be that person.

  Why, she didn’t want to admit to herself. It wasn’t a lie, telling him she cared. Deep down, though, she knew her reversal was more than that. But she wasn’t ready to confront those feelings yet.

  Very gently, she leaned inches away from him. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said softly. “Let’s go away, just the two of us.”

  “Katie…” His frown was mixed confusion and suspicion. “You made it clear the other night that isn’t what you want.”

  “It’s what I want now. We won’t tell anyone, we’ll just leave everything behind for a while. Please, Blake—” stretching up, she kissed him, a light press of her mouth on his to stop him from asking more questions “—say yes.”

  Blake didn’t know what to say, let alone think. After all the days apart and the way they’d left things…“Why the change of heart?”

  “Because it’s something we both need.”

  “Before—”

  “Doesn’t matter. We can sort things out later.”

  Her reasoning didn’t entirely satisfy him. In his current state of mind, mistrusting his own judgment, he wondered if the whispers around them were true: that Katie was still smitten with Tate and her attentions to him and her abrupt turnaround was prompted by seeing her former love and his fiancé together.

  “I missed you,” she murmured, her fingers stroking against his nape. “We both deserve a break, I think.”

  He translated that to it wouldn’t be real; it certainly wouldn’t resolve anything. It would be a short-lived fantasy and all too soon they would return to the mess at home. Yet at the lowest point that he could ever recall being, the appeal of escaping with someone he cared about and trusted, even for a little while, was stronger than his reservations.

  “Next weekend,” he said before he could talk himself out of it. “Gabby’s family has a villa on San Vincentia Island. It’s private, we’ll have the place to ourselves, nothing around but the Mediterranean and a great stretch of beach.”

  “It sounds perfect.” She sighed. “I wish we could leave tonight. The idea of going back in there…”

  “I know.” It sounded inadequate and the urge to sweep her out a back door, onto his private jet and far away from Dallas to that island paradise was so strong Blake nearly gave in to it. Running away had never been an option for him but at this moment, the temptation to say to hell with everything overrode his dislike of ignoring problems.

  Instead of succumbing to it, he took her in his arms again except simply to hold her. It felt like more, though, as if he was holding on to her, grasping at the chance of an anchor in the emotional storm he’d been caught in since his mother’s confession. He hated to let go but after a few minutes, aware of the people who had seen them leave and would be speculating about where they’d gone, he gently put her from him.

  “We’ve probably generated enough new gossip for one night,” he said.

  “Probably. I’m having trouble caring at the moment, though. Blake—” She stopped, opened her mouth to start again, then gave up. Tentatively, she raised a hand, laying it against his cheek, tempting him to lean into her warmth. “Will you be all right?”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to say no, but he wouldn’t let himself be that weak. “Yes, of course.”

  By mutual silent agreement, they started walking back to the ballroom, separating almost immediately as they entered the crowd. To onlookers, Blake thought it probably seemed he and Katie were avoiding each other and in a way, at least on his part, it was true.

  Exposing his vulnerabilities to her, no matter how briefly, on top of the confrontation with his mother, had yanked his control away, leaving him without a foundation and uncertain how to cope.

  He’d never shown weakness to anyone before Katie because he knew it was an invitation for someone to take advantage of him. Yet she hadn’t used it against him. She’d listened and held him, and then, inexplicably, she’d changed her mind about them being together.

  None of it made sense to him. But he didn’t want to analyze anything too closely, for fear the answers he’d get would harder to accept than the questions.

  Back amid the noise and what seemed like too many people, Katie wished she’d tried harder to convince Blake to leave the ball, even though she knew it would have been impossible. She wished harder she could have avoided family and friends because it was easier with acquaintances to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t.

  “There you are.” A well-manicured hand reached out and grasped hers, turning Katie to face Gabby, a beautifully gowned Gabby, sleek in jewel-tone red, but without her handsome spouse at her side. “Back again, I see.”

  “Have you lost your husband?” Katie asked, hoping to distract Gabby from the questions she was probably dying to ask about her and Blake. She knew it was a vain hope that sharp-eyed Gabby hadn’t seen her and Blake disappear together and not return for nearly half an hour.

  “He’s only very temporarily abandoned,” Gabby said easily. “I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to you for more than few minutes. So when I saw you standing here all alone—why are you alone, by the way?”

  “I don’t think being surrounded by a thousand people counts as alone.”

  Gabby gave up on her attempt at subtlety and asked point-blank, “Where’s Blake?”

  “Mingling somewhere, I assume,” Katie said, at the same time hunting around for a safer topic. Committed now, she was nonetheless starting to second-guess her impulsive decision to go away with Blake. More daunting was her fear that she agreed not out of concern or caring or friendship, but because she’d fallen in love with him.

  She’d fallen in love with him….

  She loved him.

  “It’s true, then. You two are together.”

  Katie looked at Gabby and her friend smiled knowingly.

  “Did you just figure it out?” Gabby asked.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh, I think it’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  “Honestly, do you think between my past with Tate and all the other complications we would ever end up—together?” She had wavered so much, afraid of making a mistake, unsure of what she wanted. She didn’t believe Blake was dedicated to exploring any possibilities with her beyond friendship and a casual brief affair—at least not any more.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think, or anyone else, either,” Gabby said. “This is between you and Blake.”

  “Whatever it is.”

  “I did warn you any relationship with Blake wouldn’t be easy.”

  “Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if I had a clue what I’m doing,” Katie blurted out. She pressed fingertips to her forehead. “I sound about seventeen.”

  Gabby laughed. “No, just confused. Love will do that to you. If it’s any consolation, Blake has no clue what he’s doing, either. My advice is the two of you should get out of here and work on trying to figure it out.”

  It was so near to what she and Blake did plan on doing—at least the escape part—that Katie wondered if Gabby somehow knew. C
onsidering Gabby’s talent for ferreting out information, it wouldn’t surprise her.

  “Speaking of getting out of here,” Gabby said, “it’s time I got back to my man and let you find yours.”

  Katie let Gabby leave without correcting her; Blake wasn’t hers and wasn’t likely to be anytime soon. But she couldn’t deny she wanted him; in some ways it felt as if she always had.

  That didn’t stop her from anticipating and fearing a broken heart. She loved him and this weekend away was as likely to turn out badly, as it was to fix anything between them.

  Yet she wasn’t ready to give up the time she and Blake could spend together, no matter how brief. It had been too long, if ever, that she’d allowed her emotions full rein and damn the consequences. She wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip away, not when it meant so much.

  Not when there was a small hope that, despite everything, there was still a chance for them.

  It was nearly two when Blake let himself into the McCord mansion, feeling the weight of too many sleepless nights, the long drawn-out evening, and his own thoughts in the stiff set of his shoulders and neck. He almost hated coming back here, having to live with the pervading tension between him and his mother, though they’d done a good job of staying out of each other’s way the past week and even tonight. His only solace was in a couple of days, he could escape with Katie, at least for a short time.

  Shedding his jacket and tie as he went, he started toward his room, only to be stopped by a quiet voice.

  “You’re finally home.” Eleanor stood in the archway of the living room, still in her formal gown.

  “I couldn’t leave until everyone else had,” he said shortly, adding, “What are you doing up?” though he guessed she’d been waiting for him.

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Blake scrubbed a hand over his face. “Tonight? Can’t it wait?”

  “If we wait, we’ll both continue to find some reason to avoid it.” Eleanor gestured toward the living room and Blake, too weary—emotionally and physically—to argue, followed her in.

  He tossed his jacket and tie on a chair, unfastening the first few buttons of his shirt, but stayed standing as his mother took a seat opposite him. “I don’t need to ask what this is about.”

  “I can’t tell you how many people came up to me tonight and asked if there was something wrong with you,” Eleanor said instead of answering him.

  “Am I supposed to apologize for that?” Hearing the bitterness in his voice, he shook his head sharply. “It’s easy enough to tell them it’s business. It’s even partly the truth.”

  “That’s not the point. Blake…” She half raised a hand then let it drop. “I don’t want to leave things like this between us. Despite what you may think of me, I care about you and I hate seeing you in pain and knowing I’m the cause.”

  “I don’t want to leave it like this, either, but frankly I don’t know how to fix it.” He didn’t add that he wondered if it could be fixed. There was no way for his mother to take back her confession, no way for him to forget it. “I’m going away for a couple of days,” he said abruptly.

  Eleanor’s brows raised. “On business?”

  “No, it’s not business.”

  “I see,” she responded, although she sounded doubtful. Yet she didn’t press him for an explanation. “It’s not like you just to leave. I can’t recall you ever taking a vacation.”

  “I need to get away.” There was a long silence between them and then Blake blew out a breath. “This isn’t going to be resolved tonight. When I get back—we’ll talk then. Maybe…” He tried to think of a compromise, a way he could learn to live with knowing there was a time she’d wished he’d never been born. Nothing came to mind and he settled for “Maybe a few days away will help me clear my head.”

  “I hope, for your sake, that it does,” Eleanor said. She rose to her feet and after a moment’s hesitation, came up to him and touched his arm. “Blake…”

  The open concern in her face was almost as difficult to take as her admissions because part of him wanted to believe it was honest, while the hardened side of him rejected it as guilt. “I can’t do this right now,” he said repeating what he’d told Katie. “I—I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

  He turned on his heel and quickly left the room.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blake stood on the patio of the elegant villa—the late-afternoon sunlight glittering on the clear blue of the Mediterranean, blazing against the sky, the air perfumed with sea and lush clusters of bright red bougainvilleas—and was unmoved by the vista of paradise. It seemed a lifetime ago he’d wanted this, days isolated with Katie in a sensual hideaway. Bringing her to San Vincentia should have fulfilled one of his fantasies. Instead, he felt detached from it all, unable to shake off the shadows of Dallas.

  A whisper of sound turned him from the view and Katie walked over to him, leaning her hands against the low railing to look out at the sea. Barefoot, she’d changed into a sleeveless white dress and the light breeze molded the thin material to her curves, taunting him by revealing she wore little underneath. When she stretched and turned her face up to let the sun kiss her skin, Blake decided paradise was overrated. The view couldn’t compete with the vision of Katie.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, taking in a long breath. “This is definitely one of your better ideas.”

  “Do you want a drink?” he asked abruptly and was already starting inside before she answered.

  She glanced at him, brows slightly raised, and shook her head. “No, thank you. Not now.”

  He was being a bastard and he knew it, had been since they’d left Texas and the whole of the plane trip to Italy, the boat ride to the island, and up to this moment. Though he didn’t deserve it, Katie had put up with his moodiness and hadn’t pressed him for an explanation. Pouring out a generous portion of scotch, Blake drank it back, taking the second one with him out onto the patio.

  Katie didn’t comment, but the look she slanted him told him she wanted to. Finally, she moved to his side and slid her hand up his arm to the crux of his neck and shoulder, very lightly massaging the tight muscle. “It’s good to be away from everything.”

  “Yes, for as long as it lasts.”

  “Blake—”

  He looked at her and seeing the determination in her eyes, knew she wasn’t going to accept cryptic answers and rebuffs from him anymore.

  “Be honest with me,” she said. “I know something is wrong and it’s more than our issues. I want to help but I can’t do that if you won’t talk to me. What happened, before the ball?”

  For long seconds, he balked, thought about the things he’d have to tell her to fulfill his promise to be honest. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting,” he substituted. “It’s not been fair to you. But it has nothing to do with you, I promise.”

  “Then what does have to do with?”

  Blake nearly refused to tell her; it meant dragging out the memories again and they were too fresh to be painless. The gentle encouragement in her voice, though, broke his resolve to guard his feelings. They were alone and if there was one person he could trust to understand, it was Katie.

  “Do you know who I am?” he asked. He gripped the railing hard enough to leave marks, his knuckles whitening with the effort. “I’m the reason my mother and Rex Foley have been separated all these years. I was never supposed to be a McCord, or to be at all, for that matter.”

  Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t, either, until recently.” He told her then, all of it, not gilding it with emotions or his mother’s excuses, but reciting it starkly. When he was done, he waited, expecting her surprise, questions, or worse, pity. What he didn’t anticipate was the flare of anger in her eyes.

  “How could Eleanor say those things to you?”

  “I suppose she felt compelled to explain, or maybe justify what she’d done.” Blake pushed a hand throu
gh his hair. “Hell, I don’t know.”

  “There isn’t any justification for telling your child he was unwanted and resented,” Katie said hotly.

  “At least I understand why I was never her favorite son. It explains a lot of things.”

  “It doesn’t make it easier to accept,” she said in a voice suddenly very quiet.

  She made to put her arms around him, but Blake quickly shifted out of her reach. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have brought you here, not like this. Not because I don’t want to be with you,” he added quickly, seeing the hurt flash into her eyes. “You don’t know how much I want that.”

  “Then why—”

  “As my mother pointed out, I’m too much like my father. I wanted you and I didn’t bother to consider your feelings when I asked you to go away together. I assumed you’d say yes. I convinced myself that’s all we’d ever have together, that you weren’t any better than any other woman I’ve known.” There was more he had to say and it felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done. Exposing his vulnerabilities was almost as painful as reciting his confrontation with his mother. “I always thought you were too good for Tate. But you’re too good for me, as well. I can’t believe I could ever be the kind of man you deserve.”

  Katie’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. “What about what you deserve?” She didn’t give him time to come up with any good answer for that. “Success and ambition are poor substitutes for loving and caring.”

  He knew that, didn’t he?

  “You expect too much of yourself,” she began, closing the space between them, slowly, as if she were afraid he’d bolt if she got too near. “I don’t need perfection, Blake. And you aren’t your father, you never could be.”

  “Then I’m doing a pretty good imitation.”

  “Not even close.” Katie ignored his move to evade her and laid her palm against his face, her caress warm and tender. “You’re so much better than that.”