* * *
Isabelle Graystone sat at the kitchen table working with a pad and pen while her daughter enjoyed her post-preschool snack.
“Mommy,” Caroline said, her fingers dancing as she spoke, “can I have more cookies?”
Isabelle looked at the tiny love of her life and smiled. At four years old, Caroline was beautiful, bright, curious and quite the con artist when it came to getting more cookies. That sly smile and shy glance did it every time.
Isabelle’s hands moved in sign language as she said, “Two more and that’s it.”
Caroline grinned and helped herself. Her heels tapped against the rungs of the kitchen chair as she cupped both hands around her glass of milk to take a sip.
Watching her, Isabelle smiled thoughtfully. It wasn’t easy for a child to be different, but Caroline had such a strong personality that wearing hearing aids didn’t bother her in the least. And learning to sign had opened up her conversational skills. Progressive hearing loss would march on, though, Isabelle knew, and one day her daughter would be completely deaf.
So Isabelle was determined to do everything she could to make her little girl’s life as normal as possible. Which might also include a cochlear implant at some point. She wasn’t there yet, but she was considering all of her options. There was simply nothing she wouldn’t do for Caroline.
“After lunch,” Isabelle said, “I have to go into town. See some people about the fund-raiser party I’m planning. Do you want to come with me, or stay here with Edna?”
Chewing enthusiastically, Caroline didn’t speak, just used sign language to say, “I’ll come with you. Can we have ice cream, too?”
Laughing, Isabelle shook her head. “Where are you putting all of this food?”
A shrug and a grin were her only answers. Then the doorbell rang and Isabelle said, “Someone’s at the door. You finish your cookies.”
She walked through the house, hearing the soft click of her own heels against the polished wood floors. There were landscapes hanging on the walls, and watery winter sunlight filtering through the skylight positioned over the hallway. It was an elegant but homey place, in spite of its size. The restored Victorian stood on three acres outside the small town of Swan Hollow, Colorado.
Isabelle had been born and raised there, and when she’d found herself alone and pregnant, she’d come running back to the place that held her heart. She hadn’t regretted it, either. It was good to be in a familiar place, nice knowing that her daughter would have the same memories of growing up in the forest that she did, and then there was the added plus of having her three older brothers nearby. Chance, Eli and Tyler were terrific uncles to Caroline and always there for Isabelle when she needed them—and sometimes when she didn’t. The three of them were still as protective as they’d been when she was just a girl—and though it could get annoying on occasion, she was grateful for them, too.
Shaking her long, blond hair back from her face, she opened the door with a welcoming smile on her face—only to have it freeze up and die. A ball of ice dropped into the pit of her stomach even as her heartbeat jumped into overdrive.
Wes Jackson. The one man she’d never thought to see again. The one man she still dreamed of almost every night. The one man she could never forget.
“Hello, Belle,” he said, his eyes as cold and distant as the moon. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Two
Isabelle felt her heart lurch to a stop then kick to life again in a hard thump. Invite him in? What she wanted to do was step back inside, slam the door and lock it. Too bad she couldn’t seem to move. She did manage to choke out a single word. “Wes?”
“So you do remember me. Good to know.” He moved in closer and Isabelle instinctively took a step back, pulling the half-open door closer, like a shield.
Panic nibbled at her, and Isabelle knew that in a couple more seconds it would start taking huge, gobbling bites. As unexpected as it was to find Wes Jackson standing on her front porch, there was a part of her that wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him. Somehow, she’d half expected that one day, her past would catch up to her.
It had been five long years since she’d seen him, yet looking at him now, it could have been yesterday. Even in this situation, with his eyes flashing fury, she felt that bone-deep stir of something hot and needy and oh, so tempting. What was wrong with her? Hadn’t she learned her lesson?
Isabelle had loved working for Texas Toys. They were open to new ideas and Wes had been the kind of boss everyone should have. He encouraged his employees to try new and different things and rewarded hard work. He was always hands-on when it came to introducing fresh products to his established line. So he and Isabelle had worked closely together as she came up with new toys, new designs. When she’d given in to temptation, surrendered to the heat simmering between them, Isabelle had known that it wouldn’t end well. Boss/employee flings were practically a cliché after all. But the more time she spent with him, the more she’d felt for him until she’d made the mistake of falling in love with him.
That’s when everything had ended. When he’d told her that he wasn’t interested in more than an affair. He’d broken her heart, and when she left Texas, she’d vowed to never go back.
It seemed though, she hadn’t had to. Texas had come to her.
“We have to talk.” His voice was clipped, cold.
“No, we really don’t.” Isabelle wasn’t going to give an inch. She wasn’t even sure why he was here, and if he didn’t know the whole truth, she wasn’t going to give him any information. The only important thing was getting rid of him before he could see Caroline.
“That’s not gonna fly,” he said and moved in, putting both hands on her shoulders to ease her back and out of the way.
The move caught her so off guard, Isabelle didn’t even try to hold her ground. He was already walking into the house before she could stop him. And even as she opened her mouth to protest, his arm brushed against her breast and she shivered. It wasn’t fear stirring inside her, not even panic. It was desire.
The same flush of need had happened to her years ago whenever Wes was near. Almost from the first minute she’d met him, that jolt of something more had erupted between them. She’d never felt anything like it before Wes—or since. Of course, since she came back home to Swan Hollow, she hadn’t exactly been drowning in men.
After Wes, she’d made the decision to step back from relationships entirely. Instead, she had focused on building a new life for her and her daughter. And especially during the last year or so, that focus had shut out everything else. Isabelle had her brothers, her daughter, and she didn’t need anything else. Least of all the man who’d stolen her heart only to crush it underfoot.
With those thoughts racing through her mind, she closed the door and turned to face her past.
“I think I deserve an explanation,” he said tightly.
“You deserve?” she repeated, in little more than a hiss. She shot a quick look down the hall toward the kitchen where Caroline was. “Really? That’s what you want to lead with?”
“You should have told me about our daughter.”
Shock slapped at her. But at the same time, a tiny voice in the back of Isabelle’s mind whispered, Of course he knows. Why else would he be here? But how had he found out?
One dark eyebrow lifted. “Surprised? Yeah, I can see that. Since you’ve spent five years hiding the truth from me.”
Hard to argue with that, since he was absolutely right. But on the other hand... “Wes—”
He held up one hand and she instantly fell into silence even though she was infuriated at herself for reacting as he expected her to.
“Spare me your excuses. There is no excuse for this. Damn it, Isabelle, I had a right to know.”
Okay, that was enough to jolt her out of wh
atever fugue state he’d thrown her into. Keeping her voice low, she argued, “A right? I should have told you about my daughter when you made it perfectly clear you had no interest in being a father?”
Wanting to get him out of the hall where Caroline might see him, she walked past him into the living room. It was washed with pale sunlight, even on this gloomy winter day. The walls were a pale green and dotted with paintings of forests and sunsets and oceans. There were books lining the waist-high bookcases that ran the perimeter of the room and several comfortable oversize chairs and couches.
Oak tables were scattered throughout and a blue marble-tiled hearth was filled with a simmering fire. This room—heck, this house—was her haven. She’d made a home here for her and Caroline. It was warm and cozy in spite of its enormous size, and she loved everything about it. So why was it, she wondered, that with Wes Jackson standing in the cavernous room, she suddenly felt claustrophobic?
He came up right behind her and she felt as if she couldn’t draw a breath. She wanted him out. Now. Before Caroline could come in and start asking questions Isabelle didn’t want to answer. She whipped around to face him, to finish this, to allow him to satisfy whatever egotistical motive had brought him here so he could leave.
His aqua eyes were still so deep. So mesmerizing. Even with banked anger glittering there, she felt drawn to him. And that was just...sad. His collar-length blond hair was ruffled, as if he’d been impatiently driving his fingers through it. His jaw was set and his mouth a firm, grim line. This was the face he regularly showed the world. The cool, hard businessman with an extremely low threshold for lies.
But she’d known the real man. At least, she’d told herself at the time that the man she talked, laughed and slept with was the real Wes Jackson. When they were alone, his guard was relaxed, though even then, she’d had to admit that he’d held a part of himself back. Behind a wall of caution she hadn’t been able to completely breach. She’d known even then that Wes would continue to keep her at a safe distance and though it had broken her heart to acknowledge it, for her own sake, and the sake of her unborn child, she’d had to walk away.
“That was a hypothetical child,” he ground out, and every word sounded harsh, as if it was scraping against his throat. “I never said I wouldn’t want a child who was already here.”
A tiny flicker of guilt jumped into life in the center of her chest, but Isabelle instantly smothered it. Five years ago, Wes had made it clear he wasn’t interested in a family. He’d told her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want a wife. Children. Love. She’d left. Come home. Had her baby alone, with her three older brothers there to support her. Now Caroline was happy, loved, settled. How was Isabelle supposed to feel guilty about doing the best thing for her child?
So she stiffened her spine, lifted her chin and met Wes’s angry glare with one of her own. “You won’t make me feel bad about a decision I made in the best interests of my daughter.”
“Our daughter, and you had no right to keep her from me.” He shoved both hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket, then pulled them free again. “Damn it, Isabelle, you didn’t make that baby on your own.”
“No, I didn’t,” she said, nodding. “But I’ve taken care of her on my own. Raised her on my own. You don’t get to storm into my life and start throwing orders around, Wes. I don’t work for you anymore, and this is my home.”
His beautiful eyes narrowed on her. “You lied to me. For five years, you lied to me.”
“I haven’t even spoken to you.”
“A lie of omission is still a lie,” he snapped.
He was right, but she had to wonder. Was he here because of the child he’d just discovered or because she’d wounded his pride? She tipped her head to one side and studied him. “You haven’t even asked where she is, or how she is. Or even what her name is. This isn’t about her for you, Wes. This is about you. Your ego.”
“Her name is Caroline,” he said softly. He choked out a laugh that never reached his eyes. “I’m pretty good at research myself. You know, you’re something else.” Shaking his head he glanced around the room before skewering her with another hard look. “You think this is about ego? You took off. With my kid—and never bothered to tell me.”
Was it just outrage she was hearing? Or was there pain in his voice as well? Hard to tell when Wes spent his life hiding what he was feeling, what he was thinking. Even when she had been closest to him, she’d had to guess what was going through his mind at any given moment. Now was no different.
She threw another worried glance toward the open doorway. Time was ticking past, and soon Caroline would come looking for her. Edna, the housekeeper, would be home from the grocery store soon, and frankly, Isabelle wanted Wes gone before she was forced to answer any questions about him.
“How did you find out?” she asked abruptly, pushing aside the guilt he kept trying to pile on her.
He scraped one hand across his face then pushed that hand through his hair, letting her know that whatever he was feeling was in turmoil. Isabelle hadn’t known he was capable of this kind of emotion. She didn’t know whether she was pleased or worried.
“You haven’t seen the internet headlines today?”
“No.” Worry curled into a ball in the pit of her stomach and twisted tightly. “What’s happened?”
“Someone knew about our daughter. And they’ve been hammering me with that knowledge.”
“How?” She glanced at her laptop and thought briefly about turning it on, catching up with what was happening. But the easiest way to discover what she needed to know was to hear it directly from Wes.
“I got an email yesterday from someone calling themselves Maverick. Sent me a picture of my daughter.”
“How did you know she was yours?”
He gave her a cool look. “She was wearing the princess heart necklace I once gave you.”
Isabelle sighed a little and closed her eyes briefly. “She loves that necklace.” Caro had appropriated the plastic piece of jewelry, and seeing it on her daughter helped Belle push the memory of receiving it from Wes into the background.
“You liked it once too, as I remember.”
Her gaze shot up to his. “I used to like a lot of things.”
Nodding at that jab, Wes said, “The same person who sent me the picture also let me know my Twitter account had been hacked. Whoever it was gave me a new handle. Real catchy. Deadbeatdad.”
“Oh, God.”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” He shook his head again. “That new hashtag went viral so fast my IT department couldn’t contain it. Before long, reporters were calling, digging for information. Then Teddy Bradford at PlayCo called a press conference to announce the merger we had planned was now up in the air because, apparently,” he muttered darkly, “I’m too unsavory a character to be aligned with his family values company.”
“Oh, no...” Isabelle’s mind was racing. Press conferences. Reporters. Wes Jackson was big news. Not just because of his toy company, but because he was rich, handsome, a larger-than-life Texas tycoon who made news wherever he went. And with the interest in him, that meant that his personal life was fodder for stories. Reporters would be combing through Wes’s past. They would find Caroline. They would do stories, take pictures and, in general, open her life up to the world. This was fast becoming a nightmare.
“The media’s been hounding me since this broke. I’ve got Robin fielding calls—she’ll stonewall them for as long as she can.”
Wes’s assistant was fierce enough to hold the hordes at bay—but it wouldn’t last. They would eventually find her. Find Caroline. But even as threads of panic unwound and spiraled through her veins, Isabelle was already trying to figure out ways to protect her daughter from the inevitable media onslaught.
“So.” Wes got her attention again. “More lies.
You’re not Isabelle Gray. Your real last name is Graystone. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that. Isabelle Gray didn’t leave much of a mark on the world—but while typing in the name you gave me, up popped Isabelle Graystone. And a picture of you. So yeah. Surprised. Even more surprised to find out your family is all over the business world. As in Graystone shipping. Graystone hotels. Graystone every damn thing.
“You didn’t tell me you were rich. Didn’t tell me your family has their fingers into every known pie in the damn country. You didn’t even tell me your damn name. You lied,” he continued wryly. “But then, you seem to be pretty good at that.”
She flushed in spite of everything as she watched his gaze slide around the room before turning back to her. Fine, she had lied. But she’d done what she’d had to, so she wouldn’t apologize for it. And while that thought settled firmly into her brain, Isabelle ignored the niggle of guilt that continued to ping inside her.
“Why’d you hide who you were when you were working for me?”
Isabelle blew out a breath and said, “Because I wanted to be hired for me, for what I could do. Not because of who my family is.”
Irritation, then grudging respect flashed across his face. “Okay. I can give you that one.”
“Well,” she said, sarcasm dripping in her tone. “Thank you so much.”
He went on as if she hadn’t said a word. “But once you had the job, you kept up the lie.” His eyes narrowed on her. “When we were sleeping together, you were still lying to me.”
“Only about my name.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and held on. “I couldn’t tell you my real name without admitting that I’d lied to get the job.”
“A series of lies, then,” he mused darkly. “And the hits just keep on coming.”
“Why are you even here, Wes?” She was on marked time here and she knew it. Though it felt as if time was crawling past, she and Wes had already been talking for at least ten minutes. Caroline could come into the room any second. And Isabelle wasn’t ready to have that conversation with her little girl.
The Tycoon's Secret Child Page 3