by Maggie Marr
She walked out the back door and down the side path, directly to Justin’s suite. She’d confront her past and defend her decisions. Today Justin might be a man who wanted to be a father, but he must remember who he’d been then, before Max was born, when she’d discovered she was pregnant. His life and desires had been much different. He’d been a man enraptured by his glorious playboy lifestyle. Her knuckles rapped against the wooden door.
The door flew open. He stood before her, still in his suit jacket but his tie now gone and his collar unbuttoned. “I wasn’t certain you’d be brave enough to come by tonight.”
He turned from the doorway, and she followed him inside his suite. Conflicting emotions bounded through her. Uncapped sexual attraction dizzied her and collided with fear and anguish and confusion. How could she keep a calm and cool demeanor in the presence of the only man who had made her swoon?
He walked toward the kitchen, lifted a glass of pinot noir, and turned to her. She took the glass.
“I suppose I should offer a toast.” He lifted his wineglass and anger thundered over his face and then passed, quickly concealed. “To our son, the boy I’ve yet to meet and the man I want to know.” He reached out his glass and clinked it to hers.
She couldn’t drink to those words. Couldn’t sip the wine as though Justin’s presence hadn’t sent her carefully constructed world reeling.
Justin took a long drink and set the wineglass on the kitchen island. “You can’t drink to that or you won’t?”
Her gaze captured his. There were so many things to discuss. A part of her wanted his forgiveness, a part of her wanted him to leave, and a part of her she was scared to acknowledge wanted him. Heat grew in her chest, and as if sensing her desire, he stepped closer. His masculine, musky scent mixed with wine overwhelmed her. His voice was low. “Where is my son? Where is Max?”
“How do you … why do you think he’s your son?” She stepped back, but her hand clutched the counter. Let him stew on the possibility that another man might have claim to Max. An impossibility that made her want to laugh out loud. There’d been no men, none since Justin.
She glanced at his hands. One clasped the wineglass stem and looked as though he might snap the crystal into shards. The other hand was planted on the kitchen island, his palm flat and his fingers tapered and smooth and beautiful. The pleasure those fingertips could give. She licked her lips with the memory of Justin’s hands on her body, of him deep inside her, pulsing and throbbing and causing her to scream his name. “I mean, who knows the number of men I was sleeping with when I was in New York?” She pressed her lips into a tight line. “You can’t possibly think you were the only one?”
A giant laugh burst from Justin’s lips. A huge smile split his face. A smile that made her feel very small.
Chapter 6
“Oh, Aubrey, these delicious games you still play.” He took another sip of wine. She was close and energy crackled between them. “Where is my son?”
“Again I ask you, why do you think Max is your son?” Aubrey lifted an eyebrow. An attempt at nonchalance … she wasn’t very good at nonchalance. Anxiety, worry, OCD, she could do all of those, but nonchalance she’d never mastered.
“How do I know?” He pressed his fingers into the front pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the picture he carried next to his heart. He placed the photo on the counter between them. “Are you truly telling me Max isn’t my son?”
A mother’s love flashed over her face as her gaze lingered on the picture that lay on the counter between them. Her fingertips crept to the edge of the photo as though to shield Max, or maybe even herself, from the truth that was finally coming to light after her horrible lie. She glanced up from the picture. “He has your eyes,” she whispered.
A knife sliced through his heart. How different that statement might feel if she’d stayed in New York and had his son with him or even if she’d reached out and told him he was a father. But now hearing those words only twisted the pain, the loss, the time that he’d never get back, deeper into the gash in his soul.
“You admit it then? Max is mine?”
Aubrey closed her eyes. Her face grew pale. She opened her mouth to speak but then stopped. With the tiniest nod, she admitted the truth.
“Why would you keep me away from my only son?”
“You were my boss. We were together one night—”
His eyes grew dark. “Did you conveniently forget that it was you who came to me, claiming our night together was a mistake? Three months later you resigned and disappeared.”
“And now you know why.”
“I don’t know why.” He moved forward, pressed closer to her. Even with anger throbbing through him, desire tightened his back. “You stole my son. Not only did you fail to tell me about Max, but you actively kept this secret from me.”
Her eyes traced Justin’s face. “What you wanted out of life was very clear.” A pang of longing flitted over her features. “We…” Aubrey shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “He didn’t fit into your life or the lifestyle you were pursuing.”
“My lifestyle?” The words bit out of his mouth. “My lifestyle then and now is none of your concern. We’re talking about my son. My future. My one and only living heir.”
“When I worked at Travati Financial, you spent your days making money and your nights chasing models. Do you think I was about to throw a child into that mix?”
Heat thrummed through his blood. “You didn’t think at all. You caved to your childlike fears, which caused you to run home and hide with your family and my child.”
He moved closer. She was nearly pressed to the wall.
He lowered his voice, just barely containing the rage that thrummed through him. “It took me nearly fifteen years to discover your deceit, but like a thief you stole my child and brought him here”—the muscle in his jaw tensed—“and as lovely as you’ve made your little inn with its restaurant, this is Kansas, Aubrey. A Travati doesn’t belong in Kansas.”
“He’s not a Travati.”
Justin’s nostrils flared and he fought the rage in his chest. “Like hell he isn’t. I’ve got the doctors and attorneys ready to prove my paternity. Are you ready, Aubrey? Are you ready to drag Max through the court system along with your lies? Ready to confront your mistake and deal with the son you viewed as a problem?”
“I never viewed Max as a problem.”
“Then why hide in Kansas? Why not be proud of our son? Why not give him my last name?” Justin tilted his head. Her damn lips were too close now. The scent of mint on her breath filled him. “You were embarrassed to be pregnant and scared that you’d lose Max, and now your fears are about to come true.”
Her eyes widened and he pinned her with his gaze.
Anger fueled his words. “I’m taking him. You’ve had him for fourteen years, and soon he’s going to be mine.”
Insufferable woman. Most women would have crumbled at his words, but Aubrey’s chin only jutted out farther.
“You were a risk I was unwilling to take.” Her eyes raked over his face. “I’m risk adverse, remember?”
That smart, beautiful mouth. Heat careened between them, out of control and skidding toward an impossible end. His heart pounded. Damn her. Damn him. What was this impossible pull she had over him? He grasped her arm and drew her tight to him.
His words were thick in his throat. “That night did mean something, whether you’ll admit it or not. And you left. You left and took my son.”
Anger raged in his chest but didn’t quell the heat between them or the desire that caused his blood to fire with fury and intensity. He grasped the back of her neck and tilted her head toward his. Those lips. Would they taste as lush they had that night so many years before, a night that still haunted his dreams and his wants with what if? No other woman did that … No woman since. Why this woman, who was so damned stubborn and, as he’d learned now, deceitful?
He had to know.
With one swi
ft move, his lips were on hers. The kiss was filled with want and desire and fury, pure unadulterated anger. She did not resist him. She did not pull away from his touch. Instead, a sexy sound came from her throat as her lips opened to his. His tongue probed deep into her mouth, and he wrapped his arm around her body and pulled her closer to him. He had to have her now. Her body fit so closely to his. He clasped her ass and pulled her even tighter, his sex hard between them. She pressed forward, her hips grinding against him, and her hand clutched his shirt.
He pressed his palm to her breast and her head fell back, leaving that lush neck open to his lips. His teeth grazed the soft flesh. Another low moan escaped her throat. Insanity. This moment was insanity, and yet he couldn’t stop himself, didn’t want to stop himself.
He yanked at her top and had it off in an instant. His hands found her breasts and cupped them. He unclasped her bra, and his lips suckled pink nipples, his tongue taking one and licking around the edge, then pulling the pert tip deep into his mouth.
The desire to make her shriek his name, to prove to himself and to her that their night long ago had meant something, was overwhelming. His hand reached around and tugged the zipper of her skirt. The fabric fell to her ankles, and she was nearly naked before him. Her flesh was softer, her curves rounder and fuller—the curves of a woman, a mother, who had borne his son. He twisted the tiny wisp of fabric over her hip that held her panties in place and covered her patch of curls. Now. Now she stood naked before him in high heels. He grasped the back of her neck and pulled his lips from hers and held her steady before him.
His eyes traveled over her naked flesh. Yes, this insatiable lust that he could barely control when she was with him, this desire, consumed him. A deep breath as her eyes locked with his. One hand traveled down her belly to the wet spot between her legs. His finger slid over her engorged clit, and he pressed her nub while he watched her eyes. He circled slowly, ever so slowly. Her nostrils flared and she tried to look away, but with a firm grasp at the back of her neck, he forced her eyes to remain on his.
“You ran from this.”
Her lips opened and quick little pants came from her mouth as he continued to bring her closer to orgasm. Her hips rolled forward and back, her nipples pert and tight, her entire body under his control. His cock strained against the fabric of his pants, yearning to plunge hard and deep into her pussy. He slid one finger deep into her sex and continued to rim her clit with his fingertip.
“This pleasure, this lack of control, terrifies you, doesn’t it, Aubrey?” Her heartbeat pulsed against the skin of her throat. Her body trembled with want, with desire.
“I could fuck you now. I could help you to remember why that night has haunted you since you left with my son. I could make you come with just a touch.” He paused the slow circling of his finger on her clit and she gasped. He captured her gaze with his, a wicked smile crossing his lips. “But I won’t.”
He stepped back and dropped his hands from her body. In an instant he’d stripped her bare. She stood naked and exposed before him, her flaming-red hair tousled, her lips red and swollen, her nipples pert and tight, all her clothes strewn on the floor around her naked body.
“I’m taking Max. You lied to me and he’s mine. This time if you run, you won’t get far.” He turned away from her, his back to her now. “Good night, Aubrey. I believe you know your way home.”
Without a word, she collected her clothes and walked to the door. He’d give her some credit—she didn’t cower or cross her arms over her body or double over in fear, trembling and clutching for her clothes. No. Like some sort of dispossessed goddess, she slowly and with determination clothed herself and made her way toward the door. Without a look or a word, she walked out and was gone.
*
The lights were off in Max’s room, the entire house quiet and empty. There was the outline of his school backpack leaned against his desk chair. The shelves held trophies and medals from basketball games, soccer, and football. Pictures of family vacations, the two of them smiling out from framed photos, fought for wall space with posters of motorcycles and fast cars. The room held all Max’s things but was empty of Max.
The lump in her throat grew bigger. Would this bedroom be empty of Max forever? When Max came home from Camp Willow would he then leave for New York and a new life that didn’t include her and Rockwater Farms? She’d tried to give Max a life with a family that loved him and was dedicated to his success. Had she miscalculated? Had she made a tragic error that could never be rectified?
She walked to the edge of Max’s bed, which he’d made up as a concession to her nagging. A patchwork quilt in dark colors, solid and male, made by Aubrey’s mother, lay on top of the sheets. Her fingertips drifted along the stitching. Mom hadn’t been upset when Aubrey arrived home pregnant and unmarried. She’d been thrilled over the prospect of having a grandchild. Aubrey was thankful Mom’d had time with Max before she died.
Fifteen years ago, she’d made what she thought was the best choice for both her and Max. Justin blamed her for not thinking about his needs, but the entire world catered to Justin’s needs. Travati needs were effortlessly met, which was the very reason she’d brought her unborn son home to Rockwater. She didn’t want Max raised by a collection of overindulged, narcissistic men, nor did she wish for Max to become one himself.
Sunshine. Honest work. Fresh air. Woods. Creeks. Pastures. Cows. Fishing. Camping. All the experiences that led to limitless exploration and freedom and a sense of self and independence. She’d wanted this childhood for her son, not to fight for the attention of a father who might or might not have acknowledged Max. She’d face an angry Justin a hundred times to again give Max this childhood. No matter what Justin wanted to believe, coming home to the safety and security of a loving family was better for Max than staying in New York, craving the attention of a distant father.
She lifted a picture of her and Max in Hawaii that he kept beside his bed. The photo had been snapped after a day of laughter as they’d toured volcanoes by helicopter. This day, the one she’d dreaded, the day when Max discovered Justin and Justin discovered Max, wasn’t supposed to arrive yet. Not now, not before Max was a man, grown and ready for life, not when he was still her little boy.
Tears filled her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. Would Justin take Max from her? Where would Max want to live? The answer to both questions was obvious. She could do nothing to stop Justin. And Max? Well, who wouldn’t want a glorious life as the son of one of the world’s richest men? Max was a Travati heir. The only Travati heir.
Why Max? If Justin so desperately wanted a son, he could have wedded and bedded any one of a million appropriate women, because to give Justin a child was a pathway to riches. She’d wanted none of Justin’s money. She’d only wanted a quiet life with her family. Aubrey lay down on Max’s bed, drew her knees in close, and curled up tight. A worried Scout curled up on his own bed on the floor beside her. Max had been the main focus of her life for what felt like eternity. The tears fell from her eyes as she clutched an edge of the quilt with her hand. Scout nudged her hand with his nose and Aubrey pressed her face into the pillow so no one, not even she, could hear her sobs.
Chapter 7
The silence was deafening. No traffic rushed through the streets, no honking, no buses. The background noise for Justin’s entire life had disappeared, and the silence was overwhelming. He took a long swallow of hot coffee and stood in front of the window in his bedroom while fresh air breezed in with the scents of grass and water and earth. The sun, an orb haloed in pink and orange, brightened on the eastern horizon. The view was a plus. Outside, hills dotted with cattle swept down to the timber and beyond to the Kaw River. Another red barn sat at the top of the hill, not far from the white farmhouse in which Aubrey and Max lived.
A call from Roger early this morning alerted Justin that Max was not in the white farmhouse at Rockwater Farms. Justin’s son was at Camp Willow, located ninety-six miles north. He toyed with the idea o
f driving to Camp Willow and retrieving Max. Wouldn’t that give Aubrey a start? Perhaps she’d better understand his fury over just now finding out that he had a child, a son, a part of him and his family that had been stolen from him. But while Justin had Aubrey’s admission that Max was his, there was nothing official. His attorneys were working on documents, and if Aubrey signed the papers, then DNA testing and a paternity hearing would be unnecessary.
There was still the matter of Max’s future. Justin’s eyes skirted the hills and trees. A blast of clean, crisp air filled his lungs. Perhaps a childhood here with woods to explore, rolling hills, rivers to fish, and wide-open spaces to roam with a giant dog had been good for his son’s childhood, but now as Max approached manhood, he needed a father, a strong education, entrée into the world of business and culture. Aubrey was a smart woman; she wasn’t a fool. She understood the success that money, power, and access would provide Max. And if she didn’t understand and agree to Justin’s plans for their son, then so be it, he’d fight her in court if necessary.
Justin’s computer beeped, and he turned toward his laptop, which was open on the desk. Leo was videoconferencing from Dubai.
“Little late for you, isn’t it?”
Leo nodded and gave a weary smile. Fatigue crisscrossed his face. Stubble was rough across his jaw. “This deal is going to hell fast.”
“I thought all that was left was a dinner, some handshakes, and then the champagne,” Justin said.
“So did I. But it would seem there’s one final deal point they’re stuck on, and between you and me, brother, I’m not certain how we’re going to get around it.”