by Heidi Betts
By the time the young man left, every inch of the marble island had been covered with fabric totes, a boxed dinner for two from one of the Ridge’s exclusive restaurants waited on the counter near the stove and her car was parked in the drive. Trevor had thanked him with a nod and what looked to be a fifty-dollar tip, something Haylie quickly pretended she hadn’t seen.
She’d known the Jarrods had money, of course. Which was sort of like saying the Sahara desert had sand. They were, in a word, loaded.
Yes, she understood that. And if she hadn’t before driving down from Denver, the sight of the Jarrod Ridge Resort certainly would have clued her in. Trevor’s demeanor of entitlement and the lavishness of his own private home were really just icing on the cake.
And though she considered herself a generous person, always tipping well at restaurants and after hotel stays, she didn’t have a fifty-dollar bill in her wallet for emergencies, let alone floating around as extra change to give to a complete stranger in thanks for doing her a favor.
He hadn’t been stingy when it came to supplying her with personal and baby items or a fresh outfit for her lunch with his sister, either. The vanity in the guest bathroom and the kitchen countertops all resembled a well-stocked drugstore, and the guest bed looked like the fitting-room floor of a woman trying to find the perfect dress for her high school reunion.
A new sweater and another pair of slacks would have been fine, but Trevor had apparently requested one of everything in her size from several of the resort boutiques. There were dresses and skirts and pants, blouses and pullovers and casual tops with both short and long sleeves. Even shoes and undergarments.
She couldn’t decide whether to be impressed in a Pretty Woman sort of way or intimidated by the power Trevor so obviously wielded. He snapped his fingers and people jumped. He said, “Jump,” and people asked, “How high?”
If the blood tests came back showing Bradley was his son—and she had no doubt they would, unless Heather had lied to her for the last year of her life—and Trevor got it into his head to fight for custody, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
Haylie’s heart seized in her chest at the thought, and her hands actually shook while she rushed to get dressed. She might not have money or power or even the biological rights that Trevor did, but she would still do whatever she had to in order to keep Bradley in her life.
She hadn’t given it a lot of thought before making the trek to Aspen—something she was beginning to regret—but she realized now that it wouldn’t be feasible for her to maintain full custody once the DNA results came in. The knowledge did nothing to loosen the low-level panic gripping her chest. But she would do anything and everything she could to make sure she was able to see the baby and spend time with him on a regular basis.
Surely Trevor would be open to visitation, right? He might be a Jarrod, used to getting his own way and ordering people around like pawns on a chessboard, but he wasn’t cruel, was he? He wouldn’t invoke his parental rights and cut her out of Bradley’s life altogether. Would he?
Haylie wasn’t sure what the symptoms of a full-blown panic attack felt like, but if her shallow breathing, sweaty palms and the ringing in her ears were any indication, she suspected she might be headed in that direction.
She needed to calm down. The test results wouldn’t be in for weeks yet, so it wasn’t as though Trevor was going to snatch Bradley out of her arms and run off with him. Considering the fact that he hadn’t even held the baby yet—voluntarily, at any rate—she thought he was probably hoping the tests would come back negative so he could wash his hands of the whole situation and return to his fun-loving, playboy lifestyle with barely a ripple.
In the meantime, however, she had a business lunch to get ready for. One she was unaccountably nervous about.
Almost as nervous as she was about finally poking her head out of the bedroom and once again coming face-to-face with her host.
It had taken every ounce of composure she possessed just to get through last evening. Especially after half the bags from Jarrod Ridge had been unpacked and he’d carried plates of food to the dining area and invited her to eat with him.
What she’d really wanted to do was race upstairs and lock herself into the guest bedroom with Bradley. Bury her head under the quilted satin duvet and not come out until morning.
Playing ostrich seemed like such a good idea compared to remaining in Trevor’s presence. She hated to admit it—really hated to admit it—but he intimidated her. In addition to his significant wealth, his towering height, broad shoulders and movie-star good looks were more than a little overwhelming.
Oh, she hadn’t been the least bit overwhelmed or intimidated when she’d stuffed Bradley in his car seat and headed for Aspen to confront the man who’d unwittingly impregnated her sister and left a child fatherless.
Nor had she felt so much as a twinge of nerves while she’d stared down Trevor’s overprotective secretary, demanding an appointment with him, or sat in his office waiting for him to arrive so she could toss the cold bucket of reality in his face.
She hadn’t even been worried when he insisted they go for blood tests immediately, even though it meant getting into a car with a man she’d never met before and letting him drive away from a public place crowded with witnesses.
Not the smartest thing she’d ever done, admittedly, but none of that had caused her a moment’s hesitation.
Then somehow, somewhere along the way, the tables had turned and she’d gone from being a woman in control and on a mission, to a woman completely out of her element, maneuvered as easily as a remote-control airplane by her nephew’s absentee father.
She felt completely at his mercy. Not only because she was staying under his roof, but because she knew how easy it would be for him to take Bradley from her if he really wanted to.
Which made her wonder if this luncheon with Trevor’s sister was a good idea…or a mistake of epic proportions. Given how Haylie was feeling at the moment, she suspected it could go either way.
With a sigh, she took one last look around the room to be sure she had everything, then collected her purse and Bradley’s diaper bag, and finally Bradley. The bedroom door swung open without a sound, and she moved just as quietly down the hall, down the stairs and into the main area of the house.
Trevor was already in the kitchen, awake and ready to start his day. Well, no surprise there, since it was past 10:00 a.m. He’d told her last night to take her time getting ready; that they would both go into the Manor just before she was supposed to meet Erica.
But unlike yesterday, he was quite obviously dressed for the office. Instead of a warm, thick sweater, comfortable jeans and Timberland boots, he wore a blue suit so dark it was nearly black, a bright red tie and dress shoes polished to a high shine.
She didn’t know enough about designer clothes to properly place each item of his wardrobe, but she would have bet money none of them came off the rack, and that each bore some fancy, posh name like Gucci or Valentino or Armani.
Her own ensemble, provided by one of the exclusive Jarrod Ridge boutiques, had come with similar tags, but not by any designers she recognized. Just wearing them made her feel as though she was covered in something very fragile and valuable. Not the sort of clothes you wanted to snag or dirty or, God forbid, spill something on. And with a four-month-old whose favorite pastimes were chewing on her sleeve or spitting up on her shoulder, she was a walking bundle of nerves—for more reasons than one.
“Good morning,” Trevor murmured as soon as he saw her.
He stepped forward, coffee cup in his hand, and she caught a sudden whiff of his cologne. Something crisp and clean and woodsy that reminded her of exactly where they were—a beautiful mountainside dotted with tall evergreens and sparkling with fresh snowfall.
She’d never before considered that the smell of trees could be sexy, but now the winter forest scent coming from the man in front of her had her knees going weak. His wavy, carefree hair, fresh-shaven fa
ce and Boss of the Year persona didn’t hurt, either.
She swallowed hard, her grip on the baby tightening as her stomach did the slow roll of sexual attraction and…oh, so not good…longing.
“Coffee?” Trevor offered, completely unaware of the war currently being waged between her sensible mind and traitorous body.
She swallowed again, licking her dry lips before answering. “No, thank you.”
She was already a writhing ball of anxiety, she didn’t need to add caffeine to the mix.
With a nod, he finished the rest of his own coffee, then set his cup aside and headed for the door. Before she could pass through ahead of him, he slid both bags from her shoulder, leaving her with only Bradley to balance on her way to the garage.
When they arrived at his office, Trevor’s secretary, Diana, was at her desk, as usual. And perched on the edge of that desk was a lovely, curvy woman. She wore a flowing, emerald-green blouse with tan pants, and her layered, silky brown hair just brushed her shoulders. The minute she saw them, she hopped to her espadrille-clad feet and smiled.
“Hi,” she greeted them both. Then, bypassing Trevor, she held a hand out to Haylie. “You must be the wedding planner.”
“Haylie Smith,” she offered. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Jarrod.”
“Actually, it’s Prentice. I’m a newly discovered member of the Jarrod clan, but they love me, anyway. Right?” she said with a chuckle, slanting an amused glance in Trevor’s direction.
“Do we have a choice?” he asked, deadpan. But while his face remained impassive, his brown eyes sparkled with affection.
Far from being offended, his sister grinned. “Nope.”
Turning back to Haylie, she said, “But it doesn’t matter, because you’re going to call me Erica. And who is this adorable little guy?” she asked, zeroing in on Bradley.
Still bundled like a snowman at Haylie’s hip, Bradley kicked his legs and giggled as Erica tickled one of his pudgy pink cheeks.
Clearing his throat, Trevor stepped forward and put a hand to the small of Haylie’s back. The innocent touch shouldn’t have sent currents of electricity rippling up and down her spine, but it did.
“Let’s go into my office for a minute, shall we?” he murmured in a low voice, shooting his sister a meaningful glance.
Although her lungs didn’t seem to be functioning properly in her chest and her feet felt like lead weights inside her shoes, Haylie managed to follow Trevor’s prodding.
While he moved behind his desk and Erica took a seat in one of the guest chairs in front of it, Haylie went to the same sofa along the far wall that she’d used the day before. Laying Bradley on his back, she began stripping him of his snowsuit so he wouldn’t get overheated now that they were indoors.
Leaning back in his chair, Trevor steepled his fingers and tapped them against his lips. “Normally, I’d prefer to keep this under wraps, but since it will probably come up during your lunch, and I don’t want Haylie worrying about letting something slip, I think it’s only fair that we tell you what’s going on here.”
Erica raised a brow, her gaze going from Trevor to Haylie and back again. “All right,” she replied cautiously.
“And since you’re my sister—a Jarrod now,” he stressed, “I’ll expect this to stay just between the three of us. We can’t risk it getting out. The fallout would be astronomical.”
His sister’s mouth turned down in a frown. “You’re starting to make me nervous. Just tell me already.”
“There’s a chance…” Glancing briefly at Haylie, who now had the baby balanced on her knees, he took a breath and gave voice to the words he hadn’t even let himself truly consider yet. “There’s a chance Bradley is my son.”
For a second, his sister didn’t respond. Then she blinked and did the owl thing again, looking from him to Haylie, him to Haylie…or possibly from him to the child on Haylie’s lap.
“Oh, my goodness,” she muttered, putting a hand to her heart.
“Yeah, I know,” he agreed, wincing.
“You’re my brother, and I love you, so forgive me for saying this, but…” She shook her head. “All that womanizing was bound to catch up with you eventually.”
“I’m not a womanizer,” he grumbled with a scowl.
Her eyes widened and she cocked her head to one side. “No, you’re simply a connoisseur of the fairer sex and like to try a different flavor every week.”
Which was merely a creative way of calling him a womanizer, he thought, his scowl deepening. But before he could argue the point further, Erica was out of her seat and crossing his office, making a beeline for the baby.
“You mean this might be my nephew? Why, he’s just the cutest thing ever. May I?”
Haylie nodded and lifted the baby into Erica’s waiting arms. “His name is Bradley.”
“Hello, Bradley,” Erica said in a high, baby-talk voice by way of introduction. “I’m your aunt Erica. Maybe.”
Pushing to his feet, Trevor crossed to the two women, a frown still marring his brow.
“This is why I wanted you to know what’s going on,” he told his sister. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he tapped the toe of one foot in irritation. “You can’t let anyone hear you referring to him as your nephew. You can’t link him to me or the rest of the Jarrod family at all, in any way, until we’re sure.”
Erica’s head bobbed up and down in what could have been interpreted as a nod, but since she was busy cooing and laughing at Bradley, Trevor wasn’t sure she was listening to a single word he had to say.
“This is important, Erica,” he stressed in a firm voice, turning on his heel and beginning to pace. “We’ve already gone for blood tests, but the results won’t be in for at least two weeks.”
A dilemma his instincts were still screaming for him to throw money at. Cutting a generous check or paying for a new wing to be built at the local hospital had a way of speeding up test results, but that would only draw even more attention to a situation he was determined to keep strictly confidential.
“I’ve invited Haylie to stay with me until we find out for sure,” he continued, uncrossing his arms from his chest and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks instead. “But she’s concerned about being away from work for that long. She’s a party planner, as you know, and has her own event firm in Denver. That’s where you come in.”
Stopping in front of his sister, he waited until she met his gaze and he was sure he had her full attention. “I thought perhaps if we could hire her to plan an event for us, she wouldn’t feel quite as uncomfortable about sticking around.”
It was Haylie’s turn to cross her arms. “I am in the room, you know,” she chastised him. “And stop pressuring her. I won’t have your sister or anyone else ‘hiring me’ for a job they don’t need done just so you can keep me on a short leash until the tests come back.”
Trevor opened his mouth, not sure whether he intended to apologize or strengthen his position and stand his ground, when Erica piped up.
“Actually, I’m glad you’re here, Haylie. I really do have a wedding to plan, and just thinking about it is turning me into a nervous wreck. So let’s go to lunch and have a nice, long chat, and if I end up hiring you, you can rest assured it will be because I want and need your help, not just because Trevor asked me to. Sound good?”
A beat passed while Haylie considered that. Then the tautness in her shoulders and spine seemed to wash away and she let her arms drop to her sides. Her gaze flicked to Trevor for a moment before settling back on Erica and Bradley.
“All right,” she said softly.
Seven
As nervous as she’d been about going to lunch with Trevor’s sister, Haylie couldn’t believe how quickly the hours flew by. They’d talked about the weather, childhood memories and almost everything in between.
With a dreamy look in her eyes that told Haylie the woman was well and truly in love, while they’d picked at their salads Erica had shared the
story of her whirlwind romance with her husband-to-be, Christian Hanford. She’d pulled a picture from her wallet of a very handsome, clean-cut, dark-haired man, showing it off in a manner that reminded Haylie of herself with pictures of baby Bradley.
As the Jarrod family attorney, the duty of telling Erica the truth about her parentage had fallen on Christian’s shoulders after Donald Jarrod’s death. Haylie couldn’t imagine how shocking it must have been to have that sort of information dropped in her lap out of the blue. To spend her entire life thinking one man was her father, only to be blindsided by the news that he wasn’t, and that another man, now deceased, was.
Unless it felt a bit like having someone walk into your office and announce that you had a child you knew nothing about, she’d thought with a small sting of guilt.
And though she hadn’t intended to spend any time at all talking about herself, before she’d even realized it, she was confiding in Erica about her rocky relationship with her sister. Their years growing up, when Heather had been the “pretty one,” Haylie had been the “smart one” and it had seemed they were in constant competition—for their parents’ affections, for attention, for friends and boyfriends.
She told Erica about her sister’s apparent one-night stand with Trevor, and all the months that had followed leading up to Bradley’s birth and Heather’s tragic, unexpected death. And about Haylie’s own almost pathological need to clean up after her sister, to try to do what was right one final time instead of what was easy and most often selfish.
By the time she’d finished, more than an hour had passed, and she was mortified at how much talking she’d done. How open and unguarded she’d been. She blamed it on the fact that she felt extremely comfortable in Erica’s presence, as though they’d known each other all their lives.
Or rather, were becoming fast friends.
But while Haylie truly did like Erica, Haylie knew she couldn’t get too close to the woman. For one thing, she was Trevor’s sister, and Haylie wasn’t even sure she would end up being friends with him, regardless of his biological ties to Bradley.