Rachel Bailey - Return of the Secret Heir

“We knew that your living with me would be temporary. And I appreciated your putting yourself out by staying with me.”

“It’s no hardship,” he said, his eyes heavy-lidded.

Her heart skipped a beat. The pull of him was as powerful as ever and she had to call on all her reserves of strength not to snake her hand across the table just to feel his skin. They were playing with fire-why was she the only one to recognize that?

She arched an eyebrow and pinned him with a look. “Tell me, JT, do you want to be in a relationship with me? A future with all the trimmings? Vows and promises?”

A grimace passed across his face, as if he’d eaten something distasteful.

“No.” The word was said softly, but with conviction and despite it being the answer she’d expected, the rejection nonetheless stung deep inside.

She stuffed the reaction away from her awareness and met his gaze. “Then don’t let us fall into a relationship by default. If you stay, sleeping in my bed, preparing for our baby, we’ll end up playing happy families and you’ll be stuck in a simulated marriage without ever having chosen it.”

His eyes widened as he took in her meaning, and seemed to finally understand how thin the ice they were skating on had become.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow,” he said, and called for their bill.

She watched him settle the account and then pull the chair out for her. He guided her from the restaurant, holding himself more distant than he had only minutes before. Her chest twisted as she acknowledged something between them had changed forever.

The next morning, JT was sliding scrambled eggs onto plates when Pia came into the kitchen tying a scarf around her neck. He paused and watched her make the loose knot. She was wearing the same cappuccino skirt and button-down jacket that she’d worn the day he’d first seen her again in her office. But this time she had a soft scarf in emerald and jade greens, her flame-bright hair falling about her shoulders instead of pinned back, and-his gaze dipped-open-toed shoes that exposed rose pink toenails. His pulse spiked. He’d always had a thing for painted toenails. But Pia had been right last night-he needed to keep his emotional distance and not fall into the trap of forming a faux relationship.

Co-parenting was one thing. But he would never again entrust his heart to her unreliable hands.

“Nice scarf,” he said, pulling his gaze away and reaching for the pan of fried mushrooms.

She fingered the fabric. “Is it too much? I had some silk left after I made the trim on a straw hat the other day and thought it would match this suit.”

Seeing her reclaiming some of who she was made him feel a little lighter, despite the way things were between them. “It’s perfect. Orange juice is on the table, and breakfast is coming.”

“I’ll miss your cooking,” she said casually as she looked around the kitchen. “Is that baked tomatoes I smell?”

He hesitated. Perhaps he should stay longer? Ensure she was eating properly for their baby. His resolve of the night before began to waver. No, she wanted him to go, it was the right thing for him to do, and she was an adult, more than capable of preparing healthy food for herself. He took the tomatoes from the oven and slid them onto the plates before carrying them out and setting them on the table.

He picked up his cutlery. “Pia, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Sounds ominous,” she said, then took a sip of juice.

He speared a mushroom with his fork, then paused to meet her eyes as he delivered the news. “My attorney is lodging my claim on the Bramson estate today. I wanted to wait till you were back at work.”

She drew in a breath and nodded. “Thanks for telling me. And for waiting. You’re counting on there being no evidence Warner knew about you?”

“Yes.” He was sure now that none existed. The arrogant man must have assumed that when he frightened his poor secretary, she’d gone ahead and obtained an abortion. Gut burning, he stabbed another mushroom.

But the good news was if Warner hadn’t known about his existence, then it gave JT the standing to challenge the will. His attorney couldn’t foresee any problems, and once there were court-ordered DNA tests on Warner’s other two sons, the judge would have no choice but to split the inheritance three ways. His mother would finally get the public acknowledgment and compensation she’d been denied for thirty-one years.

And it all started today.

As did his new life back at his own apartment. He looked around Pia’s sweet dining and living rooms with their curtains and pink window seat. It surprised him, but he’d miss this apartment. Not the couch-it’d given him far too many kinks and sleepless nights before he moved into Pia’s bed. But still, he’d started to almost feel at home here…?.

He stabbed a tomato with his fork, annoyed that he’d let himself start to relax into something that was temporary.

“Before I leave this morning,” he said, “I’ll throw my things in the car, but I want you to promise me you’ll call if you have the slightest need.”

“More rules between us, JT?” she asked with a curve of her voluptuous lips. “Though, I think you’ll be the one needing help.”

He thought of his large, cold bed and decided she was probably right. But he also knew that wasn’t what she was referring to. “Help with what?”

“The media were always interested in the Bramson family, but since Warner’s death, they’ve been frenzied around Ryder and Seth. Even when Ryder was in Australia, the paparazzi found him.”

He remembered seeing that photo of Ryder kissing his future wife-it had been grainy and slightly blurred, but it’d been splashed over the internet and papers within hours of when it was taken. And she was right, everyone in the country knew the members of Warner Bramson’s family-from the business pages the gossip pages, and the front pages.

“And,” she said, scooping some eggs onto her fork, “with Seth’s engagement to a world-famous singer, the media value of the Bramson family has grown even more. They won’t let you rest in peace once this story hits their radars.”

Something soft touched his calf. He looked down and saw Winston curling around his legs and under the chair. Absently, he leaned down to rub the cat’s head. “I’m sure they’ll run stories about it, but no one knows me-I’m not a media magnet like those two.”

“Even if you’re not as famous now as Ryder and Seth, you’re also not used to the media attention. They grew up with it.”

The few small brushes he’d had with the media had made his skin crawl. There had been ribbon cuttings and announcements of his company’s new developments, but he left them to his PR department. Having his image, his words, beamed into houses all over the country was beyond an invasion of his privacy.

He’d heard of cultures where they believed taking a photo of someone would steal part of their soul and he’d sympathized with the theory. The public’s appetite for gossip and celebrity pictures was insatiable. That had to strip away at a person, and it was something he would have no part of.

He swallowed a mouthful of black coffee. “The lifelong media attention is one thing I don’t envy Bramson’s other sons.”

Pia’s fork dangled from her fingers as she regarded him. “Tell me something honestly. If you could go back and choose now, would you want the childhoods they had, even with all the money?”

Not regularly changing schools? Enticing. Having enough money for everything he needed? Damn attractive. But he wouldn’t have learned how to rebuild a bike, wouldn’t have become as self-sufficient. Wouldn’t have met Pia; for all the heartache of their teenage romance, it’d given him some of his happiest memories.