Maureen Child - Seductive Revenge

“I read about those.” He leaned his forearms on the table. He’d been doing a lot of reading over the last several hours. There were dozens of different theories and outlooks, but it seemed to him that the cochlear implants were the way to go. Best for everyone. “They’re supposed to be amazing. And she’s old enough to get one now.”

“Yes, I know she is.” Belle looked at him and said, “You know, her doctor and I do discuss all of this. He’s given me all of the information I need, but it’s not critical to arrange surgery for Caro right this minute. It’s something I have to think about. To talk about with Caro herself.”

Astonished, he blurted, “She’s only four.”

“I didn’t say she’d be making the decision, only that I owe it to her to at least discuss it with her. She’s very smart, and whatever decision I make she’ll have to live with.” She pushed up from the table and carried her unfinished coffee to the sink to pour out. “I’m not foolish enough to let a little girl decide on her own. But she should have a say in it.”

“Seriously?” He stood up, too, and walked over to dump his own coffee. He hadn’t really wanted it in the first place. “You want to wait when this could help her now? You want to give a four-year-old a vote in what happens to her medically?” Shaking his head, he reached for his cell phone. “I know the best doctors in Texas. They can give me the name of the top guy in this field. We can have Caro in to see the guy by next week, latest.”

She snatched the phone right out of his hand and set it down on the counter. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What you’re too cautious to do,” he said shortly. “Seeing to it that Caro has the best doctor and the best treatment.”

Both hands on her hips, she tipped her head back to glare up into his eyes. “You have known about her existence for two days and you really think you have the right to come in here and start giving orders?”

Those green-blue eyes of hers were flashing with indignation and the kind of protective gleam he’d once seen in the eyes of a mother black bear he’d come across in the woods. He’d known then that it wasn’t smart to appear threatening to that bear’s cubs. And he realized now that maybe trying to jump in and take over was obviously the wrong move. But how the hell could he be blamed for wanting to do something for the kid he hadn’t even known he had?

“All right.” Wes deliberately kept his voice cool, using the reasonable tone he wielded like a finely honed blade in board meetings. “We can talk about it first—”

“Very generous,” she said as barely repressed fury seemed to shimmer around her in waves. “You’re not listening to me, Wes. You don’t have a say here. My daughter’s name is Caroline Graystone. Not Jackson. I make the decisions where she’s concerned.”

His temper spiked, but he choked it back down. What the hell good would it do for the two of them to keep butting heads? “Do I really have to get a DNA test done to prove I’m now a part of this?”

Her mouth worked as if she were biting back a sharp comeback. And she really looked as if she were trying to find a way to cut him out of the whole thing. But after a few seconds, she took a breath and said, “No. Not necessary.”

“Good.” Something occurred to him then. “Am I named as her father on the birth certificate?”

“Yes, of course you are.” She rinsed out her coffee cup, then turned the water off again. “I want Caro to know who you are—I’d just rather have been the one to pick the time she found out.”

“Yeah, well.” He leaned against the counter. At least the instant burst of anger had drained away as quickly as it came. “Neither of us got a vote on that one.”

The problem of Maverick rose up in his mind again, and he made a mental note to call home again. Find out how the search for the mystery man was going. And it seriously bugged him that he had no idea who it might be. Briefly, he even wondered again if Cecelia and her friends were behind it, in spite of Cecelia’s claim of innocence. But for now, he had other things to think about.

“Why does anyone care if you have a child or not? Why is this trending on Twitter?” She sounded as exasperated as he felt, and somehow that eased some of the tension inside him.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered and shoved one hand though his hair. “But we live in a celebrity culture now. People are more interested in what some rock star had for dinner than who their damn congressman is.”

She laughed a little, surprising him. “I missed that. Who knew?”

“Missed what?” Wes watched the slightest curve of her mouth, and it tugged at something inside him.

“Those mini rants of yours. They last like ten seconds, then you’re done and you’ve moved on. Of course, people around you are shell-shocked for a lot longer…”

“I don’t rant.” He prided himself on being calm and controlled in nearly all aspects of his life.

“Yeah, you do,” she said. “I’ve seen a few really spectacular ones. But in your defense, you don’t do it often.”

He frowned as his mind tripped back, looking for other instances of what she called rants. And surprisingly enough, he found a couple. His frown deepened.

“You’ve got your answers, Wes,” she said quietly. “What else do you want here?”

“Some answers,” he corrected. “As for what I want, I’ve already told you. I can’t just walk away from my own kid.”

“And what do you expect from fatherhood? Specifically.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just know I have to be here. Have to be a part of her life.”

She looked into his eyes for a long second or two before nodding. “Okay. We’ll try this. But you have to dial it back a little, too. You’re the one trying to fit yourself into our lives—not the other way around.”

He hated that she had a point. Hated more that as confident as he was in every damn thing, he had no clue how to get to know a kid. And he really didn’t like the fact that he was standing this close to Belle and could be moved just by her scent—vanilla, which made him think of cozying up in front of the fire with her on his lap and his hands on her—damn it, this was not the way he wanted this to go.

“If you can’t agree to that,” she said, when he was silent for too long, “then you’ll just have to go, Wes.”

Fighting his way past his hormones, Wes narrowed his eyes, took a step closer and was silently pleased when she backed up so fast she hit the granite counter. Bracing one hand on either side of her on that cold, black surface, he leaned in, enjoying the fact that he’d effectively caged her, giving her no room to evade him.

“No,” he said, his gaze fixed with hers. “You don’t want to take orders from me? Well, I sure as hell don’t take them from you. I’ll stay as long as I want to, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

She took a breath, and something flashed in her eyes. Anger, he was guessing, and could only think join the club. But it wasn’t temper alone sparking in her eyes—there was something more. Something that held far more heat than anger.

“You lied to me for years, Belle. Now I know the truth and until I’m satisfied, until I have everything I want out of this situation, I’m sticking.”

She planted both hands flat on his chest and pushed. He let her move him back a step.

“And what is it you want, Wes? What do you expect to find here?”

“Whatever I need.”

Four

Whatever I need.

Wes’s words echoed in her mind all night long. Even when she finally fell asleep, he was there, in her dreams, taunting her. It was as if the last five years had disappeared. All of the old feelings she’d had for him and had tried so desperately to bury had come rushing back at her the moment she saw him again.