Secretly Yours

by Gina Wilkins

Her father frowned heavily at her. “I’m losing all patience with you, Annette. I have no intention of allowing you to continue to throw your life away. You’ve had your rebellion. You’ve purposely humiliated all of us by posing as a penniless housekeeper in this hick town. But it’s time for it to stop now. We’ve come to take you home. Get your things and come along.”

  It had taken Annie twenty-six years to work up the courage to look her intimidating father in the eye and defy him. It was easier now than it had been four months ago—the day she had declared her independence for the first time. “I’m staying right here.”

  Mona drew in a sharp breath, clearly appalled that anyone could so openly flout the man she hadn’t challenged in thirty years of marriage. “Annie, please. Can’t you see we only want what’s best for you?”

  “I think Annie is perfectly capable of deciding what’s best for her.”

  Trent’s comment drew everyone’s attention to the kitchen doorway, where he leaned in a casual pose against the door frame. He looked strong and fit and gorgeous, Annie thought, studying him with the admittedly biased perspective of someone who loved him. His slightly shaggy, dark gold hair was tousled appealingly around his handsome face, and his eyes were very clear and blue behind the glasses that suited him so well. Lean muscles rippled beneath his workman’s plaid shirt and worn-soft jeans. She would choose Trent’s simple, masculine style over Preston’s designer-clad, moussed-and-blow-dried facade any time.

  Preston’s carefully maintained smile of forbearance faded. “Who the hell are you?”

  MAINTAINING HIS relaxed pose with an effort, Trent took his time studying the other man. He’d been shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation from the kitchen and he’d learned a great deal about Annie’s relationship with her parents. No wonder she’d been so adamant about being on her own. Making her own way. These people talked to her as if she were a child. Apparently, they’d even chosen a mate for her.

  What kind of parents could be so clueless about their own daughter?

  He finally answered the other guy’s question with a lazy drawl intended to irritate. “I’m Trent McBride. Annie’s…friend. Who the hell are you?”

  “Preston Dixon. Annie’s fiancé.”

  Trent’s chuckle probably caught Dixon by surprise. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he murmured, glancing at Annie’s furious expression.

  Annie nodded at him. “You’re right. He’s not.”

  Her father had already studied Trent and written him off as insignificant. “This is a family meeting, young man. It would be best if you leave now.”

  Trent had no intention of going anywhere, of course, but he was pleased when Annie moved quickly to his side. “Trent is an invited guest in my home. He’s welcome to stay as long as he likes.”

  It seemed to him as good a time as any to make their relationship clear—to the others, and maybe to Annie, herself. “And if I’d like to stay the whole night?” he asked her, keeping his tone mildly amused.

  She didn’t even hesitate. “You’d be welcome to do that, too,” she said quietly. “After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  A surge of satisfaction filled him, and he smiled at her. Annie had proven that she could take care of herself, he mused. But it seemed she had found a place for him in her life, after all. Right beside her.

  Her self-proclaimed fiancé began to look suddenly less confident. He studied Trent’s faded jeans and worn work shirt with a slight sneer. “Is this another part of your temper tantrum, Annie? An affair with this guy? This—this—”

  “Carpenter,” Trent supplied affably. Proudly. “Slightly battered, but still functional.”

  Annie’s smile deepened in response to his laconic self-description. She seemed to approve.

  “Oh, Annie, don’t do this,” her mother wailed, wringing her hands. “This isn’t the life you were raised for. We have so much more to offer than you can find here.” The distressed look she gave Trent included him in the less-than-desirable offerings of Honoria.

  Trent responded before Annie had a chance. Because this woman was Annie’s mother, he tried to speak candidly, but not too harshly. “A few days ago—maybe even a few hours ago—I might’ve agreed with you, ma’am. I couldn’t see why Annie would walk away from a life of luxury to work so hard and live so frugally. Now that I’ve heard the way you people talk to her, I can understand her choices.”

  “You don’t really think she’ll be content to stay here long, do you?” Dixon asked with a sharp laugh. “Can’t you see she’s using you to punish us? Why else would she be scrubbing floors for a living when she has the brains and skills to take an executive position if she chooses?”

  Annie huffed inelegantly. “As if any corporation in this state—or any surrounding state, for that matter—would hire me if Dad put out the word that he didn’t want them to. Cleaning houses is one thing I can do on my own, without interference from any of you. It’s honest work, I’m my own boss, I set my own rates and hours, and I choose my own clients. For the first time in my life, I’m making my own decisions, without consulting you—or anyone. And I like it.”

  “How well will you like it if you have no other options?” Nathaniel asked shrewdly. “If I cut you off completely?”

  Trent watched as Annie’s chin lifted in a gesture that reminded him a bit of her father. She probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison just then. “You can’t touch the money I inherited from Grandmother Stewart, just as you had no control over this property Uncle Carney left me.”

  “Your grandmother left you a comfortable nest egg, but it’s nothing compared to what you had when you lived at home,” her father replied. “How long do you expect it to last?”

  She shrugged. “I haven’t even touched it yet, I haven’t needed to. But it’s mine if I ever need it.”

  “I bet your new boyfriend wouldn’t mind helping you spend it,” Dixon muttered.

  Trent would have dearly loved to cram the jerk’s pretty capped teeth right down his throat. He was considering trying when Annie suddenly surprised him with a laugh.

  Looking at Dixon, she shook her head. “It’s obvious that you’ve only just met Trent McBride. This is a man who would starve before he would touch a penny of my money. Unlike you, I might add, with your not-so-secret fear that you might starve without my money.”

  Dixon’s expression turned ugly. “You little—”

  Trent straightened away from the door frame, his hand already clenching in preparation for contact with the other guy’s mouth. “I wouldn’t finish that sentence, if I were you.”

  He felt Annie’s hand fall quickly on his arm, her fingers tightening to hold him beside her. “I can handle this, Trent,” she reminded him.

  He gave her a look, his tone wry. “I know. But couldn’t I punch him once, just because I don’t like him?”

  “Behave yourself,” she murmured, looking pleased that he had agreed she could handle the situation. And maybe just a little pleased that he wanted to punch Preston for her, Trent thought with a slight smile.

  “This is becoming tiresome,” Nathaniel announced, and then looked at Annie with what might have been just a hint of entreaty in his dark eyes that looked very much like hers. “Come home with us, Annie. Don’t break up the family.”

  Low blow, Trent thought. Was this the way they had controlled her for so long? By playing on the soft heart he had recognized in her from the beginning?

  “The family broke up a long time ago, Dad,” she answered sadly. “It happened when I grew old enough to start thinking for myself. It just took us all a long time to finally admit it.”

  “And if I threaten to take you out of my will?”

  “It wouldn’t make any difference. Adopt Preston, if you like. And then watch how quickly he slaps you into a retirement home as soon as you’re too old to take care of yourself. Preston’s very good at being and saying everything you want—as I found out for myself—but when you look deeper, if you ever bother, you’
ll find that it’s all about what he wants.”

  “Your parents know me better than that,” Dixon said, regaining his smug composure with a visible effort. Again, Trent’s fingers twitched with an urge to rearrange his smile. Funny, he’d never considered himself a particularly aggressive man—until he’d found himself feeling so protective toward Annie, anyway.

  “Unfortunately, they don’t,” Annie answered in regret. And then she turned to Nathaniel again, effectively dismissing Preston Dixon. “You’re my father and I love you because of that,” she said quietly. “I don’t want your money or your guidance, but I have always wanted your respect and acceptance. If you ever decide you can give me those things without demanding total obedience in return, I hope you’ll call me. Perhaps we can figure out a way to start over.”

  “I will never accept that you’ve chosen to waste your life here,” her father answered stiffly. “I gave you every opportunity to make something of yourself, and you’ve chosen instead to throw it all back in my face.”

  Looking disappointed, but not really surprised, Annie nodded. “I’m sorry you feel that way. If you ever change your mind, I’m willing to talk. Mother, you have my number. Use it whenever you like.”

  Mona glanced nervously from her daughter to her husband. “I’ll call you,” she whispered.

  Dixon was still having trouble getting the message. “You’re giving up everything we could have had together?” he asked Annie incredulously, then motioned toward Trent with open contempt. “For him?”

  “No,” Annie replied, her fingers tightening warningly on Trent’s arm again. “I’m giving it up for me. Trent,” she added, smiling up at him, “is a very nice bonus.”

  Ignoring the others, Trent reached out to snag the back of her neck and pull her toward him for a quick kiss. “Thanks,” he murmured when he released her.

  “I’m not going to stand around and watch this.” Dixon spun angrily on one heel and marched toward the door. Trent watched him leave with great satisfaction.

  Annie’s father followed. “Neither am I. Annie, if you come to your senses, come home. If not, I hope you’re happy here.” But he didn’t sound as if he really hoped that, at all.

  Annie’s mother hesitated, looking from her daughter to the doorway, and then moved after her husband. “I’ll call,” she promised on the way out.

  The snap of the door closing behind them sounded unfortunately final.

  “Have you ever noticed,” Trent asked thoughtfully, looking after them, his arm wrapped bracingly around Annie’s shoulders, “that your father tends to talk in clichés?”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed.” She straightened her shoulders and turned to face him. “Actually, I first started to question my relationship with Preston when I realized that he had the same annoying habit.”

  “You were actually engaged to that jerk?”

  She grimaced. “Let’s just call it temporary insanity and let it go at that.”

  He wanted to see her smile again, wanted to do something to ease the sadness in her eyes. He kept his tone deliberately wistful when he said, “I wish you’d have let me punch him. I’m sure I could have taken him.”

  “With one hand tied behind your back,” she assured him. “But he isn’t worth it, Trent.”

  He dropped the light tone, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry about your parents, Annie. It must have hurt very badly to watch them leave that way.”

  “Not as much as it would have hurt to go back to being my father’s little puppet. He made every decision for me when I was growing up, including telling me which man to marry. I was suffocating in that life. It all kept building inside me until it finally exploded on my twenty-sixth birthday. I can’t live that way anymore.”

  Trent thought of the money, the security, the social position she’d walked away from. “You gave up a lot.”

  “I gave up things. I found freedom. Of the two, I much prefer the latter.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “I can understand that. You must have been slowly suffocating in that household. I’m surprised you didn’t bolt long before you did.”

  “There were so many times I wanted to. But I always let my mother talk me out of it. This time, she didn’t even try, not really. Maybe she knew it was inevitable.”

  “Your father seemed to know a lot about your life here. You think he really was having someone keep an eye on you?”

  She bit her lip, looking so distressed by that possibility that he was tempted to go beat someone up again. And then she smoothed her expression and shrugged. “If he was, he’ll know now that there’s no reason to spy on me any longer. I’m getting along just fine without him—which, of course, infuriates him.”

  She turned and rested her hands on his chest, looking up at him with suddenly glowing eyes. “Even though I could have handled that scene myself, it was nice to have you here supporting me. Thank you.”

  He lifted a hand to her cheek and shook his head with a rueful expression. “You’re so determined to be self-sufficient that you can’t admit that everyone needs help sometimes.”

  “Even you?” she countered.

  “Even me,” he surprised them both by answering.

  He could see her pulse begin to beat a little faster in the hollow of her throat. His own was suddenly racing. “What do you need now, Trent?”

  “You,” he answered steadily. “I need you, Annie. Not because I can’t live without you—but because I don’t want to.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. She rose on tiptoe, her hands clutching his shirt for balance.

  His mouth met hers halfway.

  THE FIRST TIME Annie and Trent had made love it had been spectacular, but a bit fast—not that Annie had had any complaints. This time, Trent seemed to feel as if he had all the time in the world. To taste. To explore. To tease and tantalize.

  There wasn’t an inch of her body he missed in his very thorough exploration. Not the smallest patch of skin he didn’t kiss. She didn’t know if hours passed, or minutes, and she didn’t care. She wanted this night to go on forever.

  When there was no part of her he hadn’t found and claimed, she returned the favor, urging him onto his back so she could get to know him as intimately as he now knew her. Every muscle, every angle, every scar—there was no part of him she didn’t find appealing. Maybe he wasn’t perfect—but he was close enough to suit her.

  Finally pushed past control, Trent loomed over her again, reaching hastily into the nightstand. He didn’t speak when he made love with her—but he had his own way of communicating. He fused their mouths at the same time he joined their bodies, so that nothing separated them, not even a breath of air could come between them. And then he thrust so deeply into her that he became a part of her.

  The only sound in the room were gasps and moans and the steady, rhythmic creaking of the secondhand bed, then just ragged, panting breaths as they lay sprawled together in the tangled sheets, trying to regain some semblance of sanity.

  After a long time, Trent shifted his weight and pulled Annie more comfortably against him. She felt him wince, then shift again. “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice still husky.

  “Yeah. Just a twinge. I can’t lie on my side very long.”

  She’d never heard him sound quite so casual in response to a question about his back. Did he finally understand that she accepted his injuries as a part of him, something to be compensated for and then pretty much forgotten about? Was he finally starting to see them in much the same way?

  After a minute, Trent spoke, his voice low. “You called me a bonus, but I’m not much of a bargain, Annie.”

  She lifted her head to look at him. “Don’t start talking that way again. Don’t you know I’ve never seen you the way you saw yourself?”

  “I can’t offer you the things your father or that Preston jerk could give you. But you have my respect and my admiration…and my love. Things they didn’t seem to know how to offer.”

  Her throat was so
tight it was hard to speak. She lifted a hand to his face, noting again how vulnerable his eyes looked without the barrier of his glasses. “There’s nothing more I want. I love you, too, Trent.”

  He seemed to be holding back, as if he wasn’t sure she completely understood him. “You were absolutely right that I won’t touch your money. I make my own way—and it’ll be a while before my cabinetry business turns much of a profit, if ever.”

  “You’ll make a profit,” she predicted happily. “You’re too good not to. And I can support myself, remember?”

  “I don’t like you working so hard,” he muttered with a renewed frown. “You’re trying to do too much. Maybe you think I’m interfering in your life again, but it’s because I care about you, not because I want to control you.”

  “I know. You’re right, Trent, I have been trying to do too much.”

  He looked a bit suspiciously at her, as if attempting to decide why she’d agreed so easily this time.

  She smiled crookedly. “I guess I was trying to prove something to my father—and maybe to myself. Now it’s time to decide what I really want to do, rather than what will be the most effective rebellion against my father.”

  “And what is that?” he asked, lying very still as he studied her face.

  “I really don’t mind cleaning, but what I really love is teaching. I’d like to use part of my inheritance to buy a piano and set up a studio. The rest I’ll invest in case of future emergencies. I won’t rival my father’s fortune by giving piano lessons, but I think I can make enough to support myself.”

  “I think you can do anything you want to do.”

  She beamed at him. “I know. You’re the first person who ever believed that about me. Everyone else seems to think I’m helpless, for some reason.”

  “Anyone who truly believes that about you is a moron.”

  She placed a hand on either side of his face and kissed him firmly. “Thank you. That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  His smile was crookedly resigned. “I guess I’m just a sweet guy.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, snuggling more securely against him. “You most definitely are.”