The Secret Child & The Cowboy CEO

by Janice Maynard

  “We’ll tell her we believe her…that we’re sorry we ever fell for Jesse’s innocent act. And we’ll redo my will to include the boy. But I think doing a test would be insulting to Bryn.”

  “She will probably welcome the idea.”

  Mac shrugged. “We’ll see…”

  “You’ll want the boy to spend some time here.”

  “Of course. Maybe Bryn can stay over while Gage is here, bring the kid out, and she and Gage and I can show him the ropes.”

  A sour feeling settled in Trent’s stomach. He didn’t want his brother bonding with Bryn’s little boy…or worse yet, Bryn.

  Suddenly, the door to the hall flew open, and Bryn stood framed in the archway. Her dark eyes burned in a face that was ghostly pale. “I have to go.” Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing. In one hand were the keys to her rental car, in the other, her purse.

  Trent was at her side in one stride, gripping her shoulders. “What is it? Are you hurt?” He ran his hands down her arms, searching for clues to her near hysteria.

  She put her head on his shoulder, her voice a pained whisper. “Allen’s in the hospital. He’s had a terrible asthma attack. He’s asking for me. And I’m not there.”

  It was a mother’s worst fear. Trent felt her anguish as if it were his own. His eyes met Mac’s over Bryn’s bent head, both men thinking the same thing. How many nights had they kept vigils at a young Jesse’s bedside when he had struggled so pitifully to breathe?

  Trent held her close, stroking her hair. “Don’t panic. I’ll take you. We’ll use the next thirty minutes to pack and check plane schedules, and we’ll be out of here.”

  Mac held up his hand. “Wait a minute. Let me order the jet, Bryn. You call the doctor and see if the boy’s stable enough to fly. We’ll bring Allen and your aunt out here and I’ll hire the best private nurse money can buy to accompany them. It will give the kid something to be excited about and you’ll enjoy showing him the ranch.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s too expensive.” Bryn’s face was tear-stained.

  “I’m an old coot.” He lumbered to his feet and laid a hand on her shoulder. “What am I going to do with all that money, anyway? Let me do this, Bryn. It won’t make up for the past, but it would make me feel better. It’s late now…they probably have him sleeping. In the morning your aunt can tell him he’s going on an exciting journey.”

  “Would he be comfortable on the plane?” Bryn looked at Trent, her expression troubled, vulnerable.

  “It’s damned luxurious.” Trent chuckled. “He can play video games if he feels like it. There’s a bed where he can lie down. He’ll be pampered, I promise.”

  She nodded slowly. “I’ll have to call the doctor right away.”

  “Use my BlackBerry. You don’t mind us listening in, do you?”

  She frowned. “Of course not.”

  Trent carried on a conversation with Mac while Bryn was on the phone. “We can give the aunt and the nurse and the boy the suite of rooms at the end of the hall. They’ll be close to Bryn, and she can keep an eye on her little one.”

  Mac gave him a narrow-eyed, knowing gaze. “Staking out your territory, are you?”

  Trent didn’t rise to the bait. “It’s healthy for children to have their own rooms. Even I know that.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you this, boy. If you have designs on Bryn, you’ll have to move fast.” Mac snorted. “She won’t be here much longer.”

  Bryn finished her call. The doctor had given the go-ahead, so Mac got on the phone in turn and started barking orders. Trent did his part, as well, and soon all the pieces were in place. By 8:00 a.m. the plane would be staffed with a nurse and every medical convenience necessary to make sure Bryn’s young son would receive top-notch care.

  Trent went in search of Bryn. He found her huddled in a quilt on the front porch swing. The night air was crisp and the stars numbered in the millions. He sat down beside her and pulled her against his chest. “He’ll be okay, Bryn. Try not to worry.”

  She shrugged. “It’s what mothers do.”

  “Did you ever think about getting an abortion?”

  She didn’t answer for a long time, and he wondered if he had offended her. “I’m sorry. That was very personal.”

  She tucked the quilt more tightly around her neck. “No, it’s okay. Honestly, I don’t remember ever thinking of that as an option. I’d wanted for so long to be a real Sinclair. You five were the only family I knew. I had a hazy memory of meeting Aunt Beverly, but the ranch and you and Mac and your brothers were my real family, at least in my heart. So when I realized I was pregnant, my first emotion was joy.”

  “But that didn’t last long, thanks to us.”

  “I knew Jesse and I were young, but we were in a better position than most kids our age. Finances wouldn’t be an issue, and we had all of you to support us.”

  “So you intended to keep the baby all along.”

  “Yes. I assumed Jesse would be happy. But that was naive. He wanted to be with me because he thought you wanted me. A baby made everything too real. So he lied.”

  “And we believed him.”

  “Yes.”

  “What did your aunt do?”

  “She was wonderful from the beginning. No questions, only her unconditional love and support. Which was amazing, because I was almost a stranger to her. She did want to sue Jesse for child support, but I convinced her not to.”

  “Was she financially comfortable?”

  She put her head on his shoulder, her body limp. “No, not really. But I held out this faint hope that one day I’d be able to reconcile with all of you, and I was afraid if we sued for child support, you’d hate me.”

  “Ah, Bryn.” He held her close, feeling sick to his stomach as he realized anew how badly the Sinclair clan had played their part in this scenario. She had believed herself to be one of them, and they had tossed her out on the proverbial street.

  Bryn yawned hugely as he stroked her hair. He nuzzled her cheek. “You need some rest, Bryn. It’s been a tumultuous forty-eight hours.”

  She yawned again. “I know.”

  The memory of all that had transpired between them hovered in the sudden awkward silence.

  Bryn stumbled to her feet, nearly tripping on the quilt. He scooped her up in his arms, bedding and all.

  “Trent…” she protested halfheartedly.

  “Let me pamper you,” he muttered, holding her close. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

  He carried her all the way to her bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. She was already in her nightgown, and her hair was clean and damp from her shower.

  He smoothed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I want to stay with you tonight.”

  The only light in the room was a dim lamp on the bedside table. But he could see her expression clearly. “Trent, I don’t think I can—”

  He bent to kiss her. “I’m not talking about sex. Give me some credit. I only want to hold you, I swear.”

  She nodded. For a moment, shy pleasure replaced the worry in her eyes. She scooted over on the mattress, making room for him. He shed everything but his knit boxers and climbed in beside her. It would be hell not to make love to her, but she needed him tonight, and he was going to be here for her. He had a lot to atone for, and maybe this would be a start.

  She nestled in his arms as if they had been lovers for years. The pain in his chest returned, and he rested his chin on her head, inhaling her scent and keenly aware of her soft body and silky skin. He cared for her. Bone deep. It had begun as an invisible tie between them as she grew up. And when she reached womanhood, he’d known deep in his psyche that he wanted her.

  But he hadn’t been smart enough to understand that some opportunities weren’t always available. His ambition and drive to succeed had taken precedence. As an arrogant young buck out to conquer the world, frequent sex had been available and plentiful. Perhaps in the back of his mind he’d assumed Bryn would always be waitin
g.

  It would never have occurred to him to try and win her from Jesse. He loved his little brother too much. But he’d been well acquainted with Jesse’s attention span, and he knew, even then, that one day in the near future Bryn would be free. Jesse didn’t have it in him to settle down with one girl.

  But nothing had turned out like it should.

  Bryn cared for him now, he knew that. Otherwise she never would have let him make love to her. But a mother’s love and loyalty were fierce commodities, and she would stand by her son first and foremost.

  Whether Trent had a shot at convincing her he would welcome Jesse’s son was by no means a sure thing. And honestly, he had qualms about being a dad. His own father had lived by the “make ’em tough” model, but Trent doubted that was what Bryn wanted for her son.

  And what if Trent had children of his own? Would he be able to love Jesse’s son in the same way? He and his family had hurt Bryn in the past. It would be inexcusable to compound that mistake.

  Bryn moved restlessly, turning in his arms to find his lips. She moved her mouth over his drowsily, murmuring her approval when he slid his tongue between her lips and deepened the kiss.

  His shaft hardened, but the lust he felt was overlaid with a patina of contentment, seemingly an odd match-up, but true nevertheless.

  He wanted her, but the need to protect her was stronger.

  As she lay on her side, her breast nestled in his palm. He felt its weight and ached to undress her and caress her everywhere. She had become as necessary to him as breathing, and for once in his life, he didn’t have a course mapped out. He didn’t know if determination was going to be enough. No business model existed to tell him what a woman was thinking. No amount of money could buy her trust.

  And there was still a secret between them…something she was hiding.

  She fell asleep, her breathing slowing to a gentle rhythm. He reached for the lamp and plunged the room into darkness.

  It was hours before he slept.

  Ten

  Bryn woke with a dull headache and a sensation that something was wrong. Then it all came flooding back. Her aunt’s phone call. Her son’s illness.

  She scrambled out of bed and dressed haphazardly, pulling her hair into a messy knot on top of her head. It was almost nine. For God’s sake, why had Trent let her sleep so long?

  She made her way to the kitchen, dialing her cell phone as she walked. Mac was there, drinking coffee, looking old and tired. Corralling Jesse would have been his main focus for many years, a drain on his time and energy. With Jesse gone, and once the grief dulled, surely Mac would regain his customary vigor.

  She clicked her phone shut and paced. “Beverly’s not answering her phone. What if something has happened?”

  Mac reached for her hand as she passed his chair for the third time. “Relax, Brynnie. The plane is in the air. They’ll be landing in a little under two hours. And all reports are good.”

  Bryn couldn’t sit still. She went to the sink and stared blindly out the window. Allen was on the way…and Beverly. Now if only Gage and Sloan were here, she would have everyone she loved under one roof.

  When she had herself under control, she sat at the table. The cook set a scrambled egg and some toast in front of her. Bryn was too excited to eat, but she forced herself to get it down. Mac passed her a section of the morning paper. One of the ranch hands’ jobs was to make a run into town early every weekday to pick up the three papers Mac devoured without fail. It was an expensive habit given the gas consumption, but Mac refused to read newspapers online, though he was fairly computer savvy.

  Bryn was too jittery to concentrate on the printed words for long. “When should we leave?”

  Mac grinned. “Trent’s going to bring the car around in thirty minutes or so. Think you can be ready?”

  She punched him on the arm. “Very funny.”

  The trip to the airport lasted forever. Trent drove, of course, and he and Mac sat in the front seat talking ranch business. Trent had kissed her briefly when he appeared, but there hadn’t been time for anything more personal or intimate. Bryn sat in the rear, her legs tucked beneath her, and leaned her head against the window, watching the world go by.

  She loved Wyoming. And as much as she missed her son and her aunt, she wouldn’t have traded this time for anything. Being home—and it was home—had healed the dark places inside her. She didn’t know what the future would bring, especially because of the unrevealed letters, but it was enough to be here for the moment and to know that Mac and Trent no longer mistrusted her.

  There had been no overt apologies, no verbal acknowledgment that Jesse had lied repeatedly, but she sensed in Trent and Mac a softening, a willingness to listen.

  Soon, maybe tonight or tomorrow, she would pull Trent aside and show him the letters, even if it meant finding out that Allen wasn’t a Sinclair. Trent, as Mac’s eldest son, would have to make the decision about whether or not to let Mac see what his ex-wife had written to Jesse. And after that, who knew what would happen.

  They pulled in to the parking lot of the small Jackson Hole airport and parked. Mac stayed in the car, but Trent and Bryn got out and leaned on the hood, hands over their eyes as they watched for landing aircraft. Prop planes were common. Occasionally a larger, commercial airliner.

  But it was the sleek, small jet with the blue-and-green stripe and the Sinclair logo that caught Trent’s attention. “That’s it,” he said. He tapped on the window. “C’mon, Dad.”

  Bryn walked on shaky legs, Trent and Mac at her side. This was more than just a normal visit. A new Sinclair was about to step foot onto the land of his heritage. And if he wasn’t a Sinclair by blood, he was still Jesse’s son.

  She waited impatiently in the small concourse. Another jet had landed moment’s before, and Bryn had to clench her fists and bide her time as the stream of tourists meandered inside from the tarmac.

  At last Bryn saw the familiar outline of Aunt Beverly’s gray head, with its short, tight curls. Her heart leaped in her chest. An unfamiliar woman in a white uniform walked at Beverly’s side, but it was the third member of the entourage who spotted Bryn first and shouted at the top of his lungs.

  Allen broke free of Beverly’s hold and, despite her admonitions to go slowly, raced forward. “Mommy, Mommy!” His face was aglow.

  She ran to meet him, scooping him up in a tight hug as she went to her knees. “Hello, my little sweetheart. I’ve missed you so much.” He smelled of sweat and peanut butter and little boy.

  He suffered through a moment of Bryn scattering kisses on his freckled cheeks, but then pulled away impatiently, already asserting his manly independence even in the middle of a reunion. His skin was pale. Dark smudges beneath his eyes emphasized his pallor, but he had certainly recovered his high spirits.

  “Who are they, Mommy?” He tugged her to her feet and looked past her with curiosity.

  Tears clogged her throat and she had to try twice to speak. “That’s Trent and his father, Mr. Sinclair.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Remember how I taught you to shake hands.”

  Allen grinned at the two strange males, his head cocked slightly to one side as he held out his tiny palm. “Very nice to meetcha.”

  Trent stood silent, unmoving, his features carved in stone.

  Mac rubbed a hand across his face. “Oh, my God.” He took Allen’s outstretched hand and pumped it. “Welcome to Wyoming, son.”

  Eleven

  After that, chaos reigned. They all made their way outside. Aunt Beverly and Allen were installed in the backseat with Bryn. Trent hadn’t missed a trick. The booster seat he had purchased for Allen was exactly the correct size and model.

  The nurse rode behind in a rental car with a hired driver. All the bags went with her, as well.

  By the time the caravan got back to the ranch, Bryn was frazzled. Allen was hyperexcited, Aunt Beverly was exhausted and Trent had yet to say more than a couple of terse words to anybody.

 
Mac was the one to show the new arrivals to their quarters and to help Bryn get everyone settled in. She was pleased that Allen’s room was so close to hers. Even with two other caregivers watching out for him—one highly trained—she liked knowing that her son was where she could check on him during the night.

  Lunch was quick and simple, sandwiches and fruit. Allen begged to explore the ranch, but the three women who controlled his fate insisted on a nap.

  Mac took pity on the boy. He smiled down at him, his eyes misty. “How about I tell you a couple of stories about your—” He stopped short, sending Bryn a visual SOS. His face creased in distress.

  She ruffled her son’s blond hair, automatically trying to smooth the eternal cowlick. “Mac raised four sons on this ranch, Allen. Trent was one of them. I’ll bet Mac can tell you lots of great stories about the trouble they got into.”

  That seemed to convince Allen, and the old man and the young boy wandered down the hall to Allen’s new bedroom.

  Which left Bryn and Aunt Beverly alone in the kitchen. Trent had disappeared, and the nurse was taking a much-deserved hour for herself.

  Beverly hugged Bryn for the dozenth time. “I missed you, honey. The house was empty without you.”

  “I missed you, too. Did Allen really do okay…until he got sick?”

  “He was a sweetheart.” Beverly eased into a chair at the table. “I’m stiff from the plane ride, even if it was the equivalent of being treated like a queen. Good grief, Bryn. These folks have some serious money. They should have been helping you all these years.”

  Bryn bent her head. “It was complicated.” Aunt Beverly knew most of the story, though she had no clue that Bryn had harbored a crush on Trent. She sat down beside her aunt. “Mac hasn’t said so, but I can tell from his face that he thinks Allen is Jesse’s son. He practically melted, just like a doting granddad should.”