Maureen Child - The Tycoon's Secret Child

“You don’t want to fight me on this, Belle.” He took a step closer and stopped. “She’s my daughter, isn’t she?”

No point in trying to deny it, since once he saw Caroline, all doubts would disappear. The girl looked so much like her dad, it was remarkable. “Yes.”

He nodded, as if absorbing a blow. “Thanks for not lying about it this time.”

“Wes...”

“I have the right to meet her. To get to know her. To let her know me.” He stalked to the fireplace, laid one hand on the mantel and stared into the flames. “What does she know about me?” He turned his head to look at her. “What did you tell her?”

His eyes were gleaming, his jaw was set and every line of his body radiated tension and barely controlled anger.

“I told her that her father couldn’t be with us but that he loved her.”

He snorted. “Well, thanks for that much, anyway.”

“It wasn’t for your benefit,” she said flatly. “I don’t want my daughter guessing that her father didn’t want her.”

“I would have,” he argued, pushing away from the mantel to face her again. “If I’d known.”

“Easy enough to say now.”

“Well, I guess we’ll never know if things would have been different, will we?” he said tightly. “But from here on out, Belle, things are going to change. I’m not going anywhere. I’m in this. She’s mine and I want to be part of her life.”

Isabelle was so caught up in the tension strung between them, she almost didn’t notice Caroline walk quietly into the room to stand beside her. Her first instinct was to stand in front of her. To somehow hide the little girl from the father who had finally found her. But it was far too late for that.

Instantly, Wes’s gaze dropped to the girl, and his features softened, the ice melted from his eyes and a look of wonder crossed his face briefly. Of course he could see the resemblance. Isabelle saw it every time she looked at her daughter. She was a tiny, feminine version of Wes Jackson and there was just no way he could miss it.

“Hi,” he said, his voice filled with a warmth that had been lacking since the moment he arrived.

“Hi,” Caroline said, as her fingers flew. “Who are you?”

Before he could say anything, Isabelle said, “This is Mr. Jackson, sweetie. He’s just leaving in a minute.”

He shot her one quick, hard look, as Isabelle dropped one hand protectively on her daughter’s shoulder.

“We’re not done talking.” His gaze was hard and cold, his voice hardly more than a hush of sound.

“I guess not,” she said, then looked down at her baby girl. Using her hands as well as her voice, she said, “I heard Edna’s car pull into the driveway a minute ago. Why don’t you go help her with the groceries? Then you can go upstairs and play while Mommy talks to the man.”

“What about the ice cream?” Caro asked.

“Later,” she signed. Sighing a little, she watched Caroline smile and wave at Wes before turning to head back to the kitchen.

Once the little girl had hurried out of the room, Wes looked at Isabelle. “She’s deaf?”

“Good catch,” she said and instantly regretted the sarcasm. No point in antagonizing the man any further than he already was. “Yes. She has progressive hearing loss.”

“And what does that mean exactly? For her?”

“That’s a long conversation better suited to another time,” Isabelle said, in no mood whatsoever to get into this with Wes right this minute.

She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his features went even icier. “Fine. We’ll put that aside for now.” He lowered his voice. “You should have told me. About her. About everything.”

Fresh guilt rushed through her like floodwaters spilling over a dam, but she fought it back. Yes, she remembered what it had been like to discover that Caroline was losing her hearing. The panic. The fear. The completely helpless feelings that had swamped her for days. Now she could look into Wes’s eyes and see the same reactions she’d once lived through. He had been hit with a lot of information in a very short time, and if it had been her, she probably wouldn’t have been as controlled as he was managing to be.

For some reason, that really irritated her.

Isabelle was willing to live with the consequences of the decision she’d made so long ago. Besides, in spite of being faced with Wes now, she was still sure that not telling him had been the right choice. “I did what I thought was right, Wes. You more than anyone should appreciate that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please.” She laughed shortly and wished tears weren’t starting to pool behind her eyes. “You go through life making split-second decisions. You trust your gut. And you go with it. That’s all I did, and I’m not going to apologize for it now.”

He moved in on her until she swore she could feel heat radiating from his body and reaching out to hers. She caught his scent and helplessly dragged it into her lungs, savoring the taste of him even as she knew that going down this road again would lead to nothing but misery.

Besides, she reminded herself wryly, that wasn’t passion glittering in his eyes. It was fury.

“We’re not done here, Belle.”

She gulped a breath, but it didn’t help the sudden jolt to her heart. No one but Wes had ever called her Belle, and just hearing him say it again brought her back to long nights on silk sheets, wrapped in his arms. Why was it that she could still feel the rush of desire after so long? And why now, for heaven’s sake?

It had taken her years to get past those memories, to train herself to never relive them. To push her time in Texas so far back in her mind that she could almost believe it never happened. Until she looked into her baby girl’s face and saw the man she couldn’t forget.

“I can’t talk about this now. Not with Caroline here. I don’t want her—”

“Informed?” he asked. “Can’t take the chance of her finding out her father is here and wants to be with her?”

“It’s a lot to put on a little girl, Wes, and I’m not going to dump it all on her until you and I come to some sort of agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?” His tone was cautious. Suspicious.

“Like I said, not here.” She took a breath to steady herself and wasn’t even surprised when it didn’t work. How could she find her balance when staring into the aqua eyes that had haunted her dreams for years? “Once you get back to Texas, call me and we’ll talk everything out.”

A half smile curved his mouth then disappeared, leaving no trace behind. “I’m not going back to Texas. Not yet.”

“What? Why? What?” Her brain short-circuited. It was the only explanation for the way she was stumbling for words and coming up empty.

“I’ve got a room at the Swan Hollow Palace hotel,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere until I get some time with my daughter. So that agreement you want to work on? We’ll be doing it here. Up close and personal.”

Her heart was racing, and breathing was becoming an issue. As if he could read exactly what she was thinking, feeling, he gave her that cold, calculated smile again, and this time, Isabelle’s stomach sank.

“What time does she go to bed?”

“What?” God, she sounded like an idiot. “Eight o’clock. Why?”

“Because I’ll be here at eight thirty.” He headed out of the room, but paused at the threshold and looked back at her. Eyes fixed on hers he said, “Be ready to talk. I’m staying, Belle. For as long as this takes, I’m staying. I’m going to get to know my daughter. I’m going to catch up on everything I’ve missed. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

* * *