Barbara McCauley - Texas Heat

“I’ll show you out, Mr. Stone.”

His hand snaked out, catching her by the elbow and holding her fast. “What the hell kind of a game are you playing?”

She stared down coolly at his hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you don’t let go of me and leave right now, I’m going to scream.”

He held fast. “Go ahead and scream. Then if I have to bring in a lawyer, we can find out who you really are and why you’re lying.”

At the mention of a lawyer, she went still. Her frightened gaze darted to his, then, with a long sigh, she closed her eyes. “You don’t understand,” she said quietly.

“You’re damn right I don’t understand. But if you think you can put me off while you figure out a way to get your hands on the land, then you’re sadly mistaken. There’s no way I’m going to stand around and watch while you or anyone else sells off even one foot of Stone Creek.”

She looked genuinely confused. “Land? What are you—”

Jake wasn’t sure what suddenly caught his attention, a soft cry, or a movement at the hall doorway, but he turned then and saw her. A little girl. Her long hair shone dark as a Texas night, and her eyes, filled now with tears, were as blue as cornflowers.

His heart lurched. He stared at the child and knew without a doubt it was Emma. And he also knew without a doubt that she was J.T.’s daughter. The resemblance was uncanny. The little girl was Jessica’s clone, right down to the slight cleft in the chin and pert nose. Amazed, he loosened his grip on the woman, but didn’t let go. She turned then and saw the child.

“Emma!” She jerked out of his hold and moved across the room to the little girl. “I told you to stay in your room.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Savannah, but I heard somebody yell,” Emma said in a tiny shaky voice.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry if we scared you,” Savannah said softly, and took hold of Emma’s hand. “We really didn’t mean to speak so loud.” She turned and sent Jake a piercing look. “Did we, Mr. Stone?”

Jake felt an instant pang of guilt. He was the only one who had raised his voice. Well, hell, he thought, shifting uncomfortably, how was he supposed to know the kid was in the other room?

Jake moved closer to the woman and child, but was careful to keep his distance. “I’m sorry, too, Emma,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. “Your aunt Savannah and I were just talking about a few things.”

Emma folded herself against Savannah’s hip. “About me?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“Are you my brother?” Emma asked, her eyes wide as she stared up at Jake.

Jake looked at Emma, then at the woman the child clung to. “Yes.”

Savannah slid a protective hand around Emma’s shoulders. “You don’t—”

“My name is Jake,” he said, “and I have a picture of Jessica, your older sister. Would you like to see it?”

The child’s eyes grew even wider. “I have a sister, too?” she asked softly.

“And another brother named Jared,” Jake added, pulling a picture from his wallet and handing it to Emma.

“She looks like me!” Emma cried. “Look, Aunt Savannah. My sister, Jessica, looks just like me.”

With trembling fingers, Savannah took the picture from her niece, wanting desperately for the child to be wrong. Her heart sank as she stared at the photograph. Though faded from what appeared to be several years in a wallet, there was no mistaking the incredible resemblance between Emma and this woman Jessica.

And no denying the truth.

“Isn’t it neat?” Emma looked up at her aunt. “We thought we didn’t have any family. Now we have lots!”

Savannah watched Jake’s brow furrow at Emma’s announcement. Slowly he turned his gaze to meet hers, questioning.

“Yes, Emma, it’s...neat.” Savannah handed the picture back to Jake. “But they aren’t my family, sweetheart, just yours.”

“But they have to be yours if they’re mine,” Emma protested.

“I’ll explain later, Pecan.” Savannah knelt in front of Emma and pushed the hair away from her cherubic face. “But right now I need to speak to...Jake for a few minutes alone. Okay?”

Emma hesitated, and Jake bent close to her, his face almost level with hers. “I promise I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Jake watched as Emma nodded, then walked down the hall, her eyes downcast. At the sound of the bedroom door closing, Savannah moved away from Jake and stepped toward a sliding glass door that led to a small patio. She stood there, arms folded, and stared out at the potted ferns and azaleas. The door was open a few inches and the lace curtains billowed softly in the cool breeze.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked tersely, moving behind her.

Her shoulders tightened, but she did not turn around. “Emma is my niece,” she said quietly. “Angela is...was, my sister.”

Was? Jake frowned, letting the impact of Savannah’s words settle. He waited silently for her to continue.

“Our parents were killed five years ago in a car accident,” she went on. “We have no other family, so Emma always stayed with me when Angela was out of town on business. I loved having her, and because I teach at St. Mary’s Academy here in Atlanta where Emma is in the fourth grade, it was also convenient.”

Savannah’s hand reached out to smooth the lace curtain, and as she did so, the breeze carried the sound of tinkling wind chimes from the patio outside.

“Go on,” he encouraged when she hesitated.

She drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Angela had just received an award for her design of a contemporary art museum in Florida. She’d been gone four days and was anxious to get home. When her flight was canceled, she chartered a private plane to fly her home.”

Savannah turned, and though she looked directly at Jake, he realized she didn’t really see him. “Her birthday was last week. She would have been forty-three.”

Jake felt his gut tighten. Children needed a mother. And a father. At nine years old, Emma had neither. “What do you know about my father and your sister?”

Savannah shook her head. “Nothing. Angela was sixteen years older than me, more like a mother than a sister. I was only eighteen when she came back from a job in Texas. She kept that part of her life completely private, and all I knew was that she’d fallen in love with an older, married man. I’d always assumed he’d turned his back on her when he found out she was pregnant.”

“My father wouldn’t have done that,” Jake said coldly.

“Did you know your father was having an affair?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how do you know what else he did or didn’t do?”

Jake’s face was etched in granite, and his eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “I know that no member of the Stone family would ever walk away from one of their own.”

“Emma is not ‘your own,’” she said fiercely. “She is Emma Victoria Roberts, and she’s mine. I laughed in the delivery room when she was born, applauded her on the soccer field when she got her first goal and cried with her when her mother died. For nine years she’s done fine without you and will continue to do so for ninety more.”

She faced him like a lioness defending her young, her green eyes flashing a challenge and her chin lifted defiantly. The breeze tugged at the ends of her shoulder-length blond hair, and he couldn’t help but notice the graceful sweep of her slender fingers as she absently brushed the strands back.

He moved closer to her, and the scent of magnolias drifted in from the open door. He’d heard the term “steel magnolia” before, but he’d never been face-to-face with it. He felt a tug of desire as he stared at the woman, then reminded himself she’d lied to him. There were few things he tolerated less than lying. Very few things. “Why did you pretend to be Angela?” he asked tightly.