A Touch of Passion (boxed set romance bundle)

by Uvi Poznansky

“What she isn’t, is Rose’s grandchild.”

  Thankfully, the glass Anne dropped on the table didn’t tip over, although it was a close call. She clasped her hands to stop them from waving around as was her custom. “Papa, what are you saying? Of course Debbie is her granddaughter.”

  “No, she isn’t. There were blood tests that proved it to be impossible.”

  “So you’re saying then that Clint isn’t Debbie’s father?”

  “Exactly! Anne, her only true grandchild is Max.”

  Anne’s pulse doubled. “Does she know? Did you tell her?”

  “Of course not! It’s not my place. She believes you had an affair and became pregnant by the boy you left behind when you went to Texas. I think she called him Philippe.” His droll tone calmed her and left her under no illusions that he knew this to be false and wasn’t too pleased that she’d made up a father for Max. “I might add—a young man I personally knew nothing about.”

  “Yes, well, I seemed to be the only eighteen-year-old with no previous involvement with romance, so I made up Philippe. I talked about my admirer and they didn’t realize what a complete ninny I was. Then, when I had to tell Rose about my having a baby, I led her to believe I had returned to Philippe’s waiting arms, and we might have become overstimulated by my being gone for so long. I never did out-and-out lie, but I did let her believe what she wanted.”

  “I knew you had faked your way through that situation. I supposed you really had no choice. But I also know from what you’ve told me…and…from what Rose said herself, that her biggest regret is never having had a grandchild to carry on the Walsh bloodline. Like any mother would, she prays that Clint will remarry in the future. Unfortunately, according to her, it’s unlikely. After his experience with his first wife, he’s become soured by the opposite sex, by life in general, and tends to live like a hermit.”

  “So you’re saying—you think I should tell her.”

  “You must do what you believe is right.”

  “That means I have to tell him too.”

  “I would expect you will.”

  “I meant Max.”

  “Oh! Yes. I see what you mean. You’ve never lied to the boy. On the other hand, he’s never asked about his father, has he?”

  “No. You’ve always satisfied his need for a man’s influence. Once we’re away from here, I’m sure things will be different.”

  “Might be better to tell him before it becomes problematic.”

  “You mean before he gets to the ranch and finds it’s a man’s world in that part of the states.”

  “As I’ve always maintained, before he agonizes about why the other kids have daddies and he doesn’t. He’s turned eight now. The boy’s full of questions. You know it will be just a matter of time. Better to break it to him and have the conversation go the way you want it to, rather than for him to find out in a way that’ll hurt him.”

  Anne looked over at her father and smiled. “You’re such an honorable man. Must be why I find you so precious. And why you’ve taught me so much about truth and being the best me I know how to be. I promise, Papa, I will do the same for your grandson. I’ll tell him before we arrive.”

  “Good! Now about Rose—”

  “I’ll tell her also… and Clint.” Anne shuddered and felt shivers of dread break out over the skin on her arms and emotional offshoots skim her back. “Oh, Papa, they’ll want to know why I’ve hidden Max for so long.” She wrapped her arms across her chest and ran her hands up and down the pebbled skin.

  “Why did you? I’ve wondered myself.”

  “That’s easy. At first, it was to protect Clint. I couldn’t be the cause of breaking up his engagement with the girlfriend he adored. If she found out I was also expecting his baby, she might have left him. Remember, at the time, I was under the impression it would have wrecked his future and hurt him badly.”

  “And after she was no longer in the picture?”

  “Then it became a matter of protecting myself.”

  Chapter Nine

  After clearing through customs, Anne dreaded the time when she and Max would be in their seats on the plane. The thought of heading to their new home for the foreseeable future had made the boy hyperactive and very excitable. She’d decided to explain about his parentage but only once he’d settled down. After they’d taken off, the in-flight meal was over and they were left alone, she’d find the strength somehow. Since her father had generously arranged first class seats, she knew they’d have privacy and a lot of time to have this essential discussion.

  Knowing her son, she accepted he’d be full of questions. Earlier, he’d already tried to pin her down about the details of where they’d be staying and for how long. Most of the answers she didn’t know. At this point, she had no idea how long they would be in Texas. She’d left almost nine years ago, and no doubt, much had changed. Rose had sent her pictures of the small houses they’d recently constructed for many of their workers. Chances were, she and Max might be expected to stay in one of those rather than at the ranch house.

  As far as the length of their visit, it all depended on Rose. Anne prayed she’d live for a long time, but after researching everything she could get her hands on about lung cancer, she knew that probably wouldn’t be the case.

  Therefore, they might be making their way back to France before school started again for the next year. If not, the curriculums ran on the same calendar and Max wouldn’t suffer. If he did have to attend classes at the elementary school in Walsh Creek, he would be fine.

  On her father’s insistence, Max had been enrolled in an English speaking private school in Paris and had been a very good student. Unlike his mother, he was fluent in both languages. When she’d last been in Texas, her speech had become a matter of some teasing, especially once the influence of the western twang had become imbedded with her French accent. She’d drawn the line at y’all, but it had taken her quite some time to lose the other peculiarities of the slang.

  ❋

  A few hours later, once the flight attendant had delivered their after-dinner drinks and small dishes of chocolates and pastries, Anne took a deep breath and turned to her son. The overhead light emphasized the coppery highlights shining through the mass of his thick wavy hair. Brimming with health, it had always made her itch to touch. As a small child, he’d permitted her constantly running her fingers through his curls, but lately he’d only allow these affectionate displays if they were at home, never in public.

  Deep in one of the new books his grandfather had filled his e-reader tablet with, Max seemed uncaring that they were in the air. Anne shook her head and accepted that the boy had flown so often, it no longer held any mystery.

  “Max, I need to talk with you. Can you shut your device down for a little while, please?”

  He looked at her, his large, forget-me-not blue eyes replicas of her own; only his lashes were long whereas she had to use mascara. “Oui, Maman.”

  “Max, remember what Papa and I warned you about. You must speak only English from now on, and especially while we live at the ranch. No one there understands French.”

  “Je suis désolé… I mean, I’m sorry, Mo-ther.” His grin, sassy and cute as only he could make it, destroyed her, as did the drawing out of the word mother in his accented way. His precocious personality reminded her of Clint. This resemblance had always made her son even more precious.

  She’d had to work very hard to not spoil him. Thankfully, André had stepped in during those times, and she’d come to realize strict rules were for the boy’s own good. Therefore, Max had grown up to be resilient, a boy who made friends easily and one who had a code of honor.

  Once he’d tucked the e-reader away in the seat pocket in front of him, he crossed his legs and gave her his full attention.

  “I want to tell you about your father.” Anne saw his eyes widen, extreme interest filled them, making them seem twice as large. “You will meet him very soon, and I need you to understand something. I’ve never t
old him about you.”

  He blinked rapidly, filtering her words. Then he looked up and she saw worry building. “Because he won’t like me?”

  “Now why would you think that? Of course he’ll like you. He’ll love you.” Then she saw the error of her ways. Then why didn’t you tell him?

  “I’ll have to tell you a story. Would that be okay? It’ll help you to understand better.”

  Max crossed his arms and nodded, worry clouding his sparkling blues.

  “I was still a young girl when I went to Texas as an exchange student. During the time I lived there, with Rose Walsh and her husband Jake, I fell in love with a cowboy called Clint. You remember meeting Tante Rose? Well, Clint is her son. And… he’s also your father.”

  “He’s my papa?”

  “Yes.”

  First Max looked away and then he swung back to her. “Why didn’t you marry him?”

  Knowing she was into the realm of trickier explanations now, Anne took her time, choosing her words carefully. “Unfortunately, Clint loved another girl. Her name was Cathy. One night, Clint was very unhappy about Cathy’s bad behavior, and I tried to make him feel better. You were conceived that night.”

  “You mean I was born then?”

  “No, you weren’t born until nine months later, in Paris.”

  “And Clint didn’t come and see us?”

  “No. By then, Cathy and Clint had made up their differences and had married. You see, Cathy was also pregnant with Debbie. She’s the little girl Rose told you about, her granddaughter. The one we’ll be looking after while we stay at the ranch.”

  Max thought for a few seconds and Anne waited, knowing his ways. Finally he spoke. “So is Rose my daddy’s mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she’s Debbie’s grandmother.” Obviously the multitude of pictures Rose had shown featuring her granddaughter had made an impact on Max.

  “Yes. She’s also your grandmother.”

  “But she doesn’t know she’s my grandmother. Right?”

  “Right! If she did, she’d be delighted. Rose has always wanted a lot of grandkids.”

  “Does Clint want kids?”

  Now… it was getting sticky. Be honest! “I don’t know.” She reached to run her fingers again through the curls sticking up on the top of his head, and he didn’t pull away. That alone let her know he was confused and maybe somewhat afraid.

  “What if he doesn’t like me? Do we have to tell him?”

  Okay, now this was hard. “You see, Max, I have a problem. Let me explain. Rose is my dear friend, and when I stayed with her, she became like a mother to me. I’m not sure you can understand all this, but she’s a wonderful woman who treated me like the daughter she never had. She came to mean a lot to—”

  He interrupted. “Like Grandpére means to me?”

  “Yes. Perfect! You’re so smart, Max. Exactly like that. She’s always been a dear friend, and I love her. Now, she’s very sick, and we won’t have her with us for very much longer. You know what it means when someone passes on. Like our old neighbor, Mrs. Dupont?”

  Max nodded and spoke with his voice lowered. “I missed her after she died.”

  “Yes, well, Rose is sick, just like Mrs. Dupont. And because her biggest wish was always to have grandchildren, I feel we must tell her about you.”

  “But Maman, she already has a grandchild. She has Debbie.”

  “That’s true. But, Max, Rose would also love you. Boys are very important to families in Texas. Think about it. You would be her only grandson.”

  He thought about what Anne said. As if he’d made up his mind, he formed fists and then rubbed them lightly against his knees. “I really liked Rose. She bought me presents and read me stories. She hugged me too much but I didn’t really mind. If you think we should tell her about me, I guess it’s okay. But… can I ask one thing, Maman?” He undid his seatbelt, inched his way onto her lap and laid his head against her chest, a position he hadn’t taken for quite some time.

  Feeling her shoulders ease, fierce love exploded like a solar burst. At this point, she would have agreed to anything. “Of course, my darling. What is it?”

  “Can we wait to tell Clint?”

  Understanding that Clint couldn’t be a papa to Max until he’d earned the right, Anne took a few moments to think about the consequences of her answer. “You want to wait to tell Clint?”

  “I think so.”

  “Okay then. When you feel it’s the right time, you’ll tell me. Unless something drastic happens where it’s essential he knows, I’ll let you make the decision when we share our secret. Does that make you feel better?”

  His hand reached up and stroked her cheek. “I love you, Maman.”

  “Me too, Max. Je t'aime.”

  Chapter Ten

  Clint didn’t understand why he was in such a mess as he went to the airport to pick up Annie and her boy. When Rose had first told him about her invitation, he’d been furious. After she’d explained her needs, he’d done a complete turn-about and agreed, just to please the old lady. But now the time had come.

  He hadn’t really thought about Annie for ages. In fact, whenever she’d popped into his mind, he’d shoved those memories away. Now his tense body and jumpy nerves pissed him off. What the hell was wrong with him?

  It had all started when Rose had divulged that Annie had an eight-year-old son named Max. Hell, he knew Annie had gotten pregnant soon after she’d returned to Paris, but that image still induced a slow burn. His hands clenched the steering wheel. Unbelievably, when years ago he’d first been told she was expecting a child, the idea of her having someone else’s baby had driven him to the bar for one hell of a binge. To this day, in order to accept she was truly a mother, he had to swallow his distaste and try to let it be.

  He thought back to when she’d first left. There’d been this empty space at the ranch that had left him feeling kinda ornery. A space she’d once filled with bubbly enthusiasm, gentle affection and a friendly soul that he’d felt comfortable teasing. Those were the days when it had been worth getting up every morning to tackle the fun of being alive.

  Now, each morning, he dragged his body from his cold bed and shied away from letting his mind wander anywhere but on the multitude of chores filling his day and late into the night.

  This morning, he’d taken the time out of his brutal schedule, time he could ill afford, to go to the airport after he’d found Rose pasty-faced and in tears. Weak and tired to the bone, she’d worried it would be too much for her to drive into the city, wait for Anne and Max’s arrival and get them safely back to the ranch.

  He’d felt like the lowest of scum when he’d realized she hadn’t asked him to begin with; rather than trying to tackle the exhausting trip herself. When she’d defended her decision by explaining that she knew his days were full enough, he’d barked at her and made her cry. Just for that alone, he should be horsewhipped.

  Clint knew it was his anxiety and sorrow about her health that had pushed him to react so strongly. And he suspected his Ma was aware of that also. Didn’t matter! It was time for him to stop being such an asshole. He would hire a couple of hands, free himself from the workload and spend more time around the house; instead of being out on the range or in the corrals all the time.

  Shame had also been riding him for some time about Debbie. His little girl needed more from him than the occasional back ride, bedtime story and silly winks. With his ma’s imminent passing, he’d be her sole family. His baby already faced serious self-confidence issues. How to deal with these little-girl hang-ups, he had no idea? Guess if he tried to show her how important she was to him, it might go some way in helping her see how much she really mattered.

  How the hell I do that is another thing altogether!

  ❋

  There they were, coming down the ramp! The boy was tall for his age, quite a bit more so than Debbie. His golden hair, much like Annie’s, crowned his head with curls, reminding Clint of his own
unruly mass.

  Unlike Debbie, this kid swaggered rather than walked, which made Clint think the boy felt good about himself. As long as conceit didn’t drive that attitude, Clint favored it over his daughter’s hesitant movements.

  The woman who waved reminded him of his old friend, if only because she had the same beautiful face. Her hair, she’d worn really long as a teen, was now cut shoulder length and hugged her face with dramatic effect. It made him think of models on magazine pages.

  With his guts in his throat, he approached and waited for her to take the initiative about their greeting. Why her enthusiastic hug and kisses on both cheeks surprised him, he’d never know. But wrapping his arms around the slight body, feeling her warmth against the ice he’d lived with for so long, started the first melt he’d had in ages.

  “Clint! How wonderful you look! I didn’t know you’d be here to pick us up. I expected Rose.” Her jabbering stopped at that point and she paled. “Rose?”

  “She’s fine, a bit tired. So I offered to come and meet you.”

  Annie nodded and her composure returned. “Max, this is the man I’ve told you so much about.” She put her arm around the shoulders of the boy, who’d held back as Clint approached.

  The inspection made by the youngster flustered Clint. Senselessly, this lack of composure built unexpected anger. Not liking the feeling, he bristled and his greeting turned abrupt. “Howdy, Max.” Sternly, he shoved out his hand.

  Stiffening, Max scowled back. He took the proffered hand and waited for the handshake to be over. Then he stuck it in his pocket as if he’d been burned. Turning away quickly, he addressed Anne. “Which carousal is our luggage on, Maman?”

  Deadly silence screamed between Clint and a ferocious Annie until he dragged his eyes from her frown and answered for her. “Welcome to Texas. Come with me, we’ll get your bags and head on home.”

  Shame rode Clint all the way back to the ranch. What had started out so nicely had changed in an instant with his unacceptable behavior toward Max. The kid’s eyes, so like Annie’s, had mirrored his distress after Clint’s unnecessary harshness. Rather than apologize, or at least try and mitigate the offense, he’d driven home making no effort at all to welcome his guests.