The Pint-Sized Secret

by Sherryl Woods

  Though he knew Michael was only trying to spare his feelings, Jeb was insulted by the offer, by the implication that he couldn’t handle a simple investigation just because Brianna was the prime suspect. “No, dammit! I said I’d do this and I will.” He forced himself to calm down, then asked, “What has Dad had to say about this?”

  “Not much. I expected him to go through the roof, but he shrugged it off yet again. He was absolutely insistent that I not call you in London, ruin your trip, and get you all stirred up, as he put it.”

  “Doesn’t sound much like Dad, does it? What the hell is going on with him? Is he losing his touch?”

  Michael hooted at that. “Dad will still be a better businessman than any of us when he has one foot in the grave. At least to hear him tell it.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think we need to know what’s going on, even if Dad blows a gasket when he finds out what we’ve been up to.”

  Jeb nodded. “Then I’ll go home, shower, and get right on this. Give me the name and address of the guy who sold the land. I’ll start with him, then check out the guy who bought it.”

  “The guy who bought it is Jordan Adams,” Michael said, waiting while the significance of that sank in. “Doesn’t make much sense, does it? He’s always been known as a straight arrow.”

  “I suppose anyone can change if the stakes are high enough,” Jeb said, though he agreed that it didn’t sound like the Jordan Adams he’d heard about his whole life, the one who’d been so kind to Trish when she’d been alone and in trouble.

  “What will you do when Brianna gets back?” Michael asked.

  “She won’t make a move without me knowing about it,” Jeb said grimly. For once he took no pleasure in the thought of becoming her shadow.

  The rest of the European conference was a blur for Brianna. Without really understanding what had happened during that brief phone call, she recognized that it had changed everything. She also knew that sleeping with Jeb had been a terrible mistake. She had been heartsick when she had seen the way he looked at her while he was on the phone that night—and the way he’d avoided her gaze afterward.

  When he had walked out of her hotel room, she had known that whatever they had felt for each other had died. His leaving had had a finality about it, despite the cryptic remark that he hoped the phone call had nothing to do with her. For whatever reason, he no longer trusted her. That much had been plain. Why was beyond her. In the end, though, their feelings were a lot like a young seedling that had been trampled underfoot, too weak to withstand such a devastating injury.

  If she hadn’t feared something like this from the beginning, maybe she would have been more willing to fight for a future. Maybe she would have kept him from leaving, demanded an explanation. As it was, she simply resigned herself to no longer having him in her life. She’d been fine before he’d pushed his way into her daily routine. She would be again. All along she had told herself she wanted nothing more than an interlude. Well, she’d had that. And at least Emma had been spared the heartache of his going.

  Intellectually, she accepted the sudden turnaround in his behavior, but her heart was another matter. She couldn’t seem to stop the aching sense of loss that accompanied her on the flight home.

  When she got into Houston, it was late. She went back to her town house, caught a few hours of restless sleep, then went into work. She kept glancing at the door, hoping Jeb would appear, maybe offer the explanation that he hadn’t given her in London. Each time the phone rang, she waited expectantly for her secretary to announce his call. By noon, she realized he wasn’t going to call and she was accomplishing nothing.

  “Go home,” Carly advised. “You’re jet-lagged or something.”

  “In other words, I’m wasting my time and yours here.”

  Carly grinned. “Pretty much.”

  Maybe if she spent the afternoon with Emma, she could push thoughts of Jeb out of her head. Maybe her daughter would help her to get her perspective back.

  “Okay, you’re right. I’m out of here,” she told Carly, then announced her departure to Mrs. Hanover as she passed her secretary’s desk.

  The older woman stared at her in surprise. “Do you have a lunch meeting? I didn’t see one on your calendar.”

  The question proved just how predictable Brianna had become. When she didn’t have an engagement for lunch, she ate at her desk, usually a bowl of soup that Mrs. Hanover heated in the microwave.

  “No meeting. I’m just struggling with jet lag more so than usual. I’ll take some work home, catch up on sleep and be back in the morning.”

  “Shall I forward your calls? Especially if Mr. Delacourt checks in?”

  Brianna wasn’t anticipating a call from Jeb—or any other Delacourt, for that matter. “No. Just take messages. I’ll check in later and return any that are important.”

  “Very well. You have a nice rest.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Outside, she drew in a deep breath of fresh air, but it did little to refresh her. It was hot and humid with storm clouds building in the west.

  She used her cell phone to call the center to let Gretchen know she was coming and that she’d be bringing lunch. On the way she stopped at a fast-food restaurant and picked up one of their kid’s meals, along with the latest collectible toy. She’d also brought back coloring books and a doll from England. Imagining Emma’s delight brought the first real smile since Jeb had left her room so abruptly.

  When she reached the rehab center, her mood was lighter. Concentrate on Emma, she told herself as she walked down the corridor toward the sunroom. Nothing else matters. Nothing.

  Jeb was on his way to lunch when he spotted Brianna getting into her car on the opposite side of the parking garage. For an instant his heart seemed to stop. He hadn’t realized she was back at work, though he had known her flight was due in the night before. He’d thought she would take the morning off at least to catch up on her sleep. He should have known better. She was as much of a workaholic as anyone in his family.

  He promptly called and canceled his plans to meet Tyler for lunch, then set out to follow her.

  In the heavy midday traffic, it was all he could do to keep her car in sight as she traveled across town. Where the devil was she going in the middle of the day? He knew her routine almost as well as he knew his own. She never left the office unless she had a lunch meeting, and she always scheduled those for a nearby downtown restaurant to save time.

  Could she be going to meet her secret contact? Was that why she was heading to some obscure, out-of-the-way location, so she wouldn’t be spotted?

  He warned himself to stop imagining things, to stick to the facts. The only fact he had was that she was in her car, heading away from Delacourt Oil. His conversations with the seller of those mineral rights hadn’t given him any evidence directly pointing to Brianna. Nor had his terse phone call to Jordan Adams, who clearly resented the implication that he had been involved in anything shady. After that conversation, Jeb had been thoroughly chastised by Trish and then Dylan, both of whom had assured him that Jordan Adams would never do anything underhanded.

  “He bought those rights out from under us,” Jeb countered. “How did he know about it, unless someone leaked the information?”

  “You’d have to ask him that,” Dylan said. “But I guarantee you he didn’t buy the information. His son’s the sheriff over here. Where do you think Justin got his sense of right and wrong? Jordan’s as much a straight shooter as you’ll ever run across. And Harlan Adams, Jordan’s daddy, is the most honorable man in the entire state. It’s his moral compass that guides the whole family.”

  Jeb had sighed and let the matter drop. Maybe Jordan Adams had come by the information legitimately, but the whole deal still smelled to high heaven and he intended to get to the bottom of it before Delacourt Oil was ruined.

  That brought him back to Brianna. He followed her for nearly forty minutes as she led
him eventually into a more residential area with shaded lawns and lush gardens. When she turned into a gated drive, he slowed and waited before turning in after her. He paused long enough to read the discreet sign on the gate: Corcoran Treatment Facility.

  What on earth was she doing here? He took note of the neatly tended grounds, the man-made lake that was home to several ducks, the park benches on which several uniformed nurses sat. There were patients in wheelchairs on the lawn as well, most of them adults, though surprisingly few of them senior citizens.

  A rehab center, from the looks of it. For what, though? Psychiatric problems? Stroke or heart attack recovery? He’d never heard of the place, though it was evident that it was very exclusive and more than likely very expensive. Was this where Brianna’s money was going? Into care for…who? An elderly relative? An errant sister or brother? Maybe even the ex-husband she never mentioned? Maybe she was still tied to him by duty, if not legalities. There was only one way to find out.

  After giving her a few minutes of lead time, he parked and followed her inside, then asked at the desk where he could find Brianna O’Ryan. “She just came in. I believe she’s visiting a patient.”

  “Of course. She’s down the hall in pediatrics, probably in the sunroom. That’s where Emma usually is this time of day.”

  Pediatrics? Emma? Heart beating as wildly as if he’d been in pursuit of a hardened criminal, Jeb headed in the direction the woman at the desk had indicated.

  In a large room, splashed with sunlight, he found Brianna bent over a pint-sized angel in a wheelchair. The child was holding a doll and gazing at it with something akin to awe.

  “All the way from England?” she asked. “You brought her to me all the way from England?”

  Brianna nodded. “She reminded me of you.”

  In fact, Jeb noted, she did have the same golden hair, the same big blue-green eyes, though no doll’s could shine as brightly as the child’s.

  Something Brianna said made the child laugh and brought his heart to a halt. Suddenly it all came together—the eyes, the coloring, the laugh. The child’s hair was strawberry blond, but he would have bet anything it would darken to Brianna’s auburn by the time she was an adult.

  Her daughter, he thought in shock. He knew it as certainly as if they’d been introduced. All this time and Brianna had never said a word about having a child. What did that say about their relationship? Why would she hide the fact that she had a little girl? Especially one she obviously loved as much as she loved this one? He had seen the adoration in the way she’d touched her daughter’s cheek, in the way her gaze had lingered on the little angel’s face, the way her own face had brightened at the child’s laughter.

  Did his father know? Was that why his father wanted Brianna treated with kid gloves? Because he sympathized with the fact that she had a little girl in an expensive treatment facility? Whatever injuries the child had sustained, whatever the cost of her care, Jeb knew his father. Not only would he sympathize, he would see to it that the treatment was paid for by the company’s generous insurance plan. Brianna wouldn’t have to betray Delacourt Oil to get money.

  So what the devil was going on here? He needed time. He needed to think.

  Thoughts churning, he left the building, then almost got into his car and drove away, but something stopped him. He’d been way too busy the past few weeks leaping to conclusions based on faulty information and half-truths. It was time to get everything out in the open once and for all. Past time.

  He crossed the parking lot, then leaned back against the side of Brianna’s car and waited.

  It was an hour before she finally emerged from the building, her shoulders slumped, exhaustion written all over her face. When she spotted him, her footsteps slowed, but her eyes flashed with anger.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, clearly displeased to see him.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “What I’m doing here is none of your business. You had no right to follow me.”

  “But I did,” he said, dismissing that much as a fait accompli. “So, who is she, Brianna? Your daughter?”

  She stared at him, anger, confusion and misery mingling on her face. “You came inside? You saw Emma?”

  He nodded. “We have to talk about this, Brianna.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Because you say so? I don’t think so. This is my private life, Jeb. It has nothing to do with you.”

  This time he was the one who felt a sharp shaft of pain cut straight through him. Now he knew exactly how she had felt in that hotel room.

  “Really? I thought what happened in London brought us together,” he said, much as she had. The irony wasn’t lost on him, but he went on just the same. “I thought we were as close as any two people could be. Now I discover you’re keeping a huge part of your life a secret. What does that say about our relationship?”

  “We don’t have a relationship,” she said flatly. “You proved that when you walked out on me without telling me why.”

  “It’s not the same,” he insisted, despite the guilty pang that told him it was darned close to being the same. Still, he defended his actions. “That happened in an instant. It was something I couldn’t share at the time. I would have gotten into it eventually.”

  “Would you?” she said skeptically. “Well, maybe I would have gotten into this eventually.”

  Frustrated, Jeb raked his fingers through his hair. “Brianna, we have to talk about this. There’s more at stake here than hurt feelings.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’ll explain when we sit down somewhere we can talk. I won’t do it in the middle of a parking lot.”

  “Some other time. I’m beat.”

  “No, today. Right now.” He gestured toward the benches by the lake. “We can do it over there, if you prefer. Or we can go to your house or to a restaurant. I don’t care.” He leveled a look straight at her. “But we are going to talk about it. Maybe once the air is cleared, I can help you.”

  “Help me?” she echoed, looking genuinely baffled. “Why would I need help?”

  “We’ll talk about that as well.”

  She stared right back at him, challenging him, then finally nodded as if she were too weary to fight him. “Okay, fine, but not here. A restaurant,” she said, as if she hoped that a confrontation in a public place would be easier. Or maybe simply to get him far away from her daughter.

  He gestured toward his car. “I’ll drive.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll drive,” he repeated.

  “You really don’t trust me, do you? Do you honestly think I’ll take off?”

  “Right this minute, I don’t have any idea how I feel about you or what you’re likely to do,” he told her truthfully. “Bottom line, I don’t think I ever knew you at all.”

  There was another flash of hurt in her eyes, but she dutifully climbed into his car, then pointedly turned her gaze toward the window with the clear intention of ignoring him until they arrived at whatever destination he chose.

  Jeb wanted to say something, but nothing came to him. He felt as if he were riding with a stranger. And though the restaurant was only a few blocks away, it was the longest drive Jeb had ever taken.

  Chapter Nine

  Brianna felt as if she were suffocating. She could see the accusations, the hurt in Jeb’s eyes, and wished she could feel something besides anger. He had betrayed her by following her today as if she were some sort of common criminal. Worse, he had pushed himself into a part of her life that was supposed to be hers alone. Emma was her burden, her joy. Hers. How dare he intrude on something so private without an invitation?

  Would she have invited him eventually, as she had claimed? More than likely, especially with their connection deepening as it had in London. But not now, not today. Not with their relationship already in upheaval.

  He chose a restaurant where they weren’t likely to run into anyone they knew.
It was well past lunchtime, so most of the booths were empty. A few people remained at the counter, but most of those were drinking coffee or eating a slice of one of the homemade pies on display in glass cases.

  Brianna sat silently while Jeb ordered coffee for himself and iced tea for her.

  “What would you like to eat?” he asked politely.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Ignoring her, he ordered a salad for her and a club sandwich for himself. She noticed that he knew exactly what dressing she preferred, knew to order her tea unsweetened. How could a man who remembered such details know so little about the kind of woman she was? How could he not know how deeply she would resent his prying?

  He reached across the table and touched her hand. The caress was brief, as if he knew he no longer had the right to assume any sort of intimacy but had been unable to resist.

  “Tell me about her,” he said.

  When she would have balked at the request, he added quietly, “Please. She’s a beautiful little girl. There’s no mistaking that she’s yours.”

  Maternal pride swelled in her chest. “She is pretty, isn’t she? You should have seen her before…” she began, but her voice trailed off.

  “Before what?”

  She hesitated, then gave a mental shrug. What was the harm now? He already knew the most important part, that she had a little girl.

  “Her name is Emma,” she said at last. “She’s five.”

  “How long has she been at the rehab center?”

  “For a year now.”

  He was clearly shocked. “That long? How terrible for you both.”

  “Her injuries were severe.”

  “What happened?”

  She drew in a deep breath, then told him about the accident, about Larry’s desertion, about being fired and, eventually, about Emma’s long-term prognosis. “She will walk again,” she said fiercely. “No matter what I have to do, no matter what it costs, she will walk.”