After the performance, Wes stood apart from the group of parents, siblings and relatives. He was watching them all as his mind raced. His gaze fixed on Belle, behind the refreshment counter, laughing, talking and serving punch, cookies and cupcakes. And he thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
Wes wasn’t kidding himself. He had no more interest in love than he ever had. But he could admit he wanted Belle. And that he needed her. In more ways than one. If he could convince Teddy Bradford that he, Belle and Caroline were really a happy little family, then he might be able to salvage the merger that meant so much to his company.
If he felt a twinge of something that could have been guilt, he denied it. He wasn’t planning to use Belle and Caroline. But it was hardly his fault if being with his daughter and Belle helped solve a major problem.
He wandered toward the table and stepped up in time to listen in as Caro began a step-by-step description of the performance they’d just seen. Words rushing, fingers flying, his little girl was quivering with excitement, and Wes loved every second of it. Seeing his daughter with her blond hair in pigtails, big aqua eyes wide with happiness, made him smile. She was so small that her butterfly wings really did look as if they could lift her into the sky, but it was her tiny pink ballet shoes that for some reason struck his heart like an arrow.
She’d gotten to him, he realized. In little more than a week, Caroline had become so important to him, he couldn’t imagine a life without his daughter. He’d never expected, or wanted, to be a parent, and now he couldn’t imagine why. He wanted to tell Caroline he was her father. But he wasn’t going to do that then disappear back to Texas and only be involved in her life in the most peripheral way.
He wanted more. Wanted to be there every damn day to watch her grow up. To be a part of her world. But Belle and Caro were a package deal—so he had to somehow convince Belle that the three of them belonged together.
He glanced at Belle, standing behind the refreshment counter, helping Caro take the paper off her cupcake. He smiled to himself. The two of them were so beautiful it was hard not to look. The buzz of conversations, the ripples of laughter seemed to drift away. He was so caught up in watching them, he didn’t even notice Chance walking up alongside him.
“You’re making plans, aren’t you?” he asked.
“What?” Caught, Wes looked at him.
“It’s all right,” Chance said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “See, there’s a look in your eye when you look at my sister that tells me I should back off. Let you two figure this out. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Glad to hear it,” Wes said wryly, though he hadn’t been the least bit worried about Chance Graystone or his brothers.
“Don’t make me sorry.” The man wandered over to Caro, scooped the girl up in his arms and gave her a spin that had giggles erupting and floating in the air like soap bubbles.
Wes watched and continued to plan. That little girl was his. Her mother was his, too. She just didn’t know it yet.
But she would, soon.
* * *
By the time they got back to Belle’s house, Caro was wired on sugar and excitement and getting her ready for bed was a challenge Wes was happy to leave to Belle. While they were upstairs, he went out to his car to get the surprise he’d had sent in from Texas. He’d called his company three days ago to order it, and tonight was the perfect time to give it to Caroline.
The now familiar house was quiet when he went back inside and headed up the stairs to his daughter’s bedroom. But as he approached the open door, he heard Belle and the little girl talking. Shadows thrown from the night-lights plugged in at intervals along the hall crouched in corners. The old house sighed in the cold wind whipping under the eaves. Moving quietly, he stopped in the doorway and blatantly eavesdropped.
“Is Wes gonna kiss me good-night?”
“He’ll be here in a minute, sweetie.”
“He’s nice,” Caro said, and though he couldn’t see her, he imagined her small hands moving with every word, and his heart swelled.
“Yes, he is nice,” Belle said, and Wes couldn’t help but wonder if it had cost her to agree with her daughter.
“He’s funny, too, and pretty and I think he should stay here now.”
“Here?” Belle asked. “In Swan Hollow?”
“Here with us, Mommy,” Caro answered and Wes went perfectly still, waiting to hear the rest. “He likes me and he should be here so we can play some more.”
“Wes lives in Texas, honey,” Belle said gently. “He’s just visiting us.”
“He’s gonna leave?” There was a catch in Caro’s throat that Wes felt as well.
“Not right away,” Belle reassured her daughter, “but yes, he’ll have to go home soon.”
“But he can be home here, Mommy.”
“It’s not that easy, baby.”
“Why?”
“Because...” She paused, clearly searching for an explanation that would make sense to a little girl. “...because his house is in Texas.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s where he lives.”
“But why?”
He muffled a snort. He really shouldn’t be enjoying so much how Belle squirmed, Wes thought. Still, he couldn’t help the deep pang of regret he felt at making his little girl unhappy. It only strengthened his resolve to stay in her life permanently.
“Can we go to Texas?” Caro asked, trying a new tack.
Another long pause, and Wes imagined that Belle was wishing he would hurry and show up to dig her out of the conversation.
“No, we really can’t.”
“Why?”
He heard Isabelle sigh.
“What about your uncles? They all live here. Wouldn’t you miss them?”
“Yes. But they could come, too!”
Wes felt a surge of pride. It seemed his daughter was as hardheaded as he was.
“Baby girl,” Belle said, “how about we just enjoy Wes while he’s here, okay?”
“But I don’t want him to leave.”
Wes’s heart filled and he had to gulp in a breath to steady himself.
“I know, sweetie,” Belle said softly. “Neither do I.”
And he smiled. There it was. She didn’t want him to leave any more than Caro did. So maybe it wouldn’t be hard to convince Belle to come back to Texas with him. To try being together—not just for the sake of their daughter.
And on that happy thought, he stepped into Caroline’s room. It was a little girl’s dream, he imagined. Everything from a canopy bed to a play table and chairs and bookcases filled with stories to be read over and over again. There were stuffed animals, a child’s learning computer and, in the corner, a dollhouse as tall as Caro herself.
“Wes!” Caroline scooted out of bed, ran to him and threw her arms around his legs.
There went that twist to his heart again. While he hugged his daughter, his gaze caught Belle’s, and he knew she was wondering how much of their conversation he’d overheard.
“Did you bring a present?” Caro squealed, her fingers moving as fast her voice. “For me?”
“It’s a present for the best dancer in the whole show,” he said, tapping his finger against his mouth. “Now who was that?”
“Me!” Caroline shouted. “It was me. Wasn’t it me?” she asked, now sounding a little less confident.
“You bet it was you,” Wes told her and handed her the red ribbon–wrapped white box.
“Mommy, look!” Caro staggered toward her mother, balancing the box awkwardly but refusing to put it down.
“I see,” Belle said, laughing. “Why don’t you put the box down so you can open it?”
“I will!” Caro set it on the floor, plopped down beside it and yanked at the
ribbon until it fell away. Then she lifted the lid, pushed back the white tissue and said, “Ooh...”
One small word drawn out into a sigh of pleasure so rich and deep. Wes had to grin. She liked it.
“Mommy, look!” Caroline pulled the doll out of the box and inspected every inch of her. “She’s like me, Mommy. Her hair and her eyes and, Mommy, she gots hearing aids like me!”
“You like her?” Wes asked unnecessarily.
“I love her,” Caro said and handed the doll to her mother so she could run at Wes again. This time, he scooped her up and held her so she could throw her small arms around his neck and hang on. He’d never felt anything as wonderful as a freely given hug from his child. Her warm, soft weight in his arms, the scent of her shampoo, her grip on his neck and her whisper of “Thank you, Wes” made his heart fill to bursting.
Then he looked at Belle and saw her beautiful eyes shining with unshed tears and he was lost completely. He felt the ground beneath his feet shift as if he were standing in an earthquake. These two females had shattered him without even trying. And he wasn’t entirely sure it bothered him.
* * *
Once Caroline was tucked in with her new doll clutched tightly to her chest, Isabelle led Wes from the room and pulled the door almost closed behind them.
In the dimly lit hallway, she turned to look up at Wes and said softly, “She loves that doll. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. But I’m glad she loves it.” He smiled and threw a quick glance at the door separating them from their daughter. He looked back at Isabelle. “It’s from our new Just Like Me line. We’re set to launch in a few weeks, so Caro got one of the very first.”
The fact that he’d thought of it, arranged to have the doll sent here, touched Isabelle so deeply, her heart ached. “It meant so much to her. To me, too. You could have told her then. That you’re her father.”
He shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t want to give her a present and a responsibility all at once. When I tell her who I am, I want it to be the right time.”
Tears still brimmed in her eyes, remembering her daughter’s excitement and the wonder on her face when she realized the doll had hearing aids just like she did. Wes could not have given her anything that would have meant more. It was hard on a child, being different from all of the other kids, but Caro was so much a force of nature, that even at four, she was completely sure of herself. And yet, having a doll with hearing aids had suddenly given Caro a boost of even more self-confidence.
Wes had given their daughter more than a doll. He’d given her acceptance. Now, with his simple truth that he wanted to wait for the right time to admit to Caroline who he was, Isabelle’s heart was lost. Again.
She took a breath, grabbed Wes’s hand, pulled him along the hallway and said, “Come with me.”
“Where we going?”
“Where we were always headed,” she said and tugged him into her bedroom. No point in lying to herself, Isabelle thought. This had been inevitable from the moment he arrived in Colorado. She’d known it, felt it. As if seeing him again had fanned every ember inside her into life, now that banked fire was a raging inferno and she didn’t want to try to quench it anymore.
Moonlight on snow reflected into the room through the wide windows, giving the bedroom a soft, pale glow. She took a quick glance around the familiar space, the mountains of pillows stacked against the curved brass headboard, the thick, dark green comforter, the cozy chairs in front of the bay window and the brightly flowered rug across the gleaming wood floors. Reaching out, she flipped a wall switch and the gas fireplace in the sky blue–tiled hearth leaped to life.
This was her sanctuary. She’d never invited a man into this space before—not only because she hadn’t been interested, but because she hadn’t wanted Caroline to watch men coming and going. Not that there would have been a parade of men or anything. Yet tonight, it somehow seemed inevitable that Wes would be the first. Isabelle wasn’t nervous, because it felt too right to her to second-guess herself. She’d made her decision and wouldn’t back down now.
“Belle?” Wes looked down at her, desire warring with questions in his eyes.
“No talking,” she said and went up on her toes. She hooked her arms around his neck, tipped her head to one side and kissed him with everything she had.
Surprised, it took him a second to react, but then he was kissing her back, making Isabelle’s head spin when he deepened that kiss, stealing her breath. He parted her lips with his tongue, dipping into her mouth to taste, explore with a hunger that matched her own.
His arms came around her, pressing her body tightly to his. Isabelle felt like she was on a roller coaster. Her stomach pitched wildly, her heartbeat thundered in her chest and everywhere he touched her, her skin burned.
One of his big hands caught the back of her head and his fingers speared through her hair, holding her still for the wild plundering of her mouth. She felt every inch of his body along hers and moaned at the hard length of him pushing against her abdomen. She wanted him, maybe more now than she ever had before.
She hadn’t been with a man since Wes. Isabelle had told herself that she simply wasn’t ready. That one day she would be and then she would move on. Find a life. But the simple truth was, she hadn’t been able to be with another man because it was always Wes that she wanted. Everything she’d once felt for him came rushing back in an undeniable wave, knocking her sideways while she struggled to find balance.
Wes walked her forward a few steps, eased her onto the bed and then followed her down. He never let go of her, only adjusting his grip so that his hands could slide over her body with a fierce possessiveness that thrilled Isabelle. Finally, he tore his mouth from hers and she gasped and gulped for air.
Tipping her head back into the mattress, she felt him tugging at the buttons of her shirt and wished wildly for Velcro closing. It would be so much faster. At that last thought, the fabric parted and his hand came down on one of her breasts. Even through the silky lace of her bra, she felt the heat of him, and when his thumb rubbed across her nipple, she whimpered.
“Wes...”
“No talking,” he whispered. “Remember?”
“Right. No talking. All I’ll say is...more.”
“Right there with you,” he muttered and flicked open the front clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts so that he could lower his head and take first one nipple and then the other into his mouth.
Everything inside her exploded. Isabelle arched into him as his lips, tongue and teeth pulled at her sensitive nipples. A kaleidoscope of sensation shattered inside her mind. While he tortured her with his mouth, he slid one hand down her body to the waistband of her slacks, and in seconds he had the button and zipper undone. His fingers slipped beneath her panties to stroke her center.
And just like that, she was wearing too many clothes. Isabelle’s mind struggled for clarity, even as her body shrieked at her to stop thinking and just feel. But she needed more of him. The hot slide of skin to skin, the feel of his hard, muscular body pressed to hers. The amazing sensation of him pushing into her depths and filling her completely.
“I want to feel you,” she whispered.
He lifted his head and grinned. “You are.”
She laughed a little and felt it tremble through her. “Funny. But take your clothes off.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, bending down to plant another long, hard kiss on her mouth.
She loved the taste of him, the feel of him. And when he moved away from her to peel off his clothes, she missed his warmth, the heat of their bodies wrapped together. He stood up, and she shrugged out of her clothes, kicked her pants off and lay on the comforter, watching him. When he stopped dead, with his hands at his belt, she managed to ask, “What’s wrong?”
“We can’t do this.”
“What?”
He pushed both hands through his hair in frustration. “No protection, Belle. I haven’t kept a condom in my wallet since I was in college.”
She was glad to hear it. But she laughed a little and said, “Oh. For a second there, I thought you were changing your mind.”
“Not a chance,” he said, “but unless you—”
“In the bedside table drawer,” she said, wanting to cut this conversation short and get back to shivering and trembling.
He pulled the drawer open, then looked at her, eyebrows arched. “Quite the supply,” he said. “Been busy?”
She shook her head, licked her lips and choked out a short chuckle. “No. I think of that drawer as my hope chest. I figured it’s better to have them and not need them—”
“Than to need them and not have them,” he finished for her.
“Exactly.”
He grabbed one of the foil packets, stripped out of his clothes and said, “I do like a woman who’s prepared.”
“Show me.”
He didn’t need another invitation. He came to her, covering her body with his, and Isabelle sighed at the first soft, warm contact of his skin to hers. She’d missed this so much. His scent, his taste, his strength. He was a businessman, but his big hands still carried the calluses he’d earned as a young man. And the scrape of his rough palms along her body created a new and even more exciting layer of sensation.
He rolled over, bringing her on top of him, and she loved looking down into those sea-colored crystal eyes. His hands cupped and kneaded her behind and she writhed on top of him in response. She kissed him hard, fast, then raised her head to watch him as she shifted, rising up, moving to straddle him.
In the moonlit room, even the air felt like magic. This moment was one she’d been thinking and dreaming of since she’d first opened her door and seen him on her porch. Slowly sitting up, she dragged the palms of her hands across his chest and loved the flash of something hot and dark that shot through his eyes.
Isabelle felt a rush of sexual power that ratcheted higher and higher inside her as she went up on her knees and slowly, slowly, lowered herself onto him. She took his hard, thick length inside, inch by glorious inch, and when he was filling her completely, she sighed and reveled in everything she was feeling.
The Tycoon's Secret Child Page 10