The Tycoon's Secret Child Read online

  But as good as the news was, it also meant she had to leave for home soon. The distribution of toys was always a logistical nightmare, and she had to be there to supervise it all. She hated the thought of leaving, which was silly since that had been the plan all along. But things had changed, hadn’t they? Wes had changed. So maybe after the work was done in Swan Hollow, she and Caro could come back. Maybe.

  “Well, it’s about time you came in to see me.”

  Isabelle cleared her mind, slid onto one of the counter stools and smiled at Amanda. “Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

  “So I heard.” Amanda slid a cup of coffee toward her. “In fact, the whole town’s been talking about you and Wes and your daughter almost nonstop. And you know the diner is the unofficial clearinghouse for information.”

  Isabelle winced, knowing that she was the subject of gossip and speculation. But honestly, she’d expected nothing less. Royal’s lifeblood was gossip, and if you wanted to find out the latest news, you came to the Royal Diner.

  “Bobbi had your daughter in here yesterday for a milkshake,” Amanda said. “She’s a cutie.”

  “Thanks.” Isabelle glanced around the familiar diner and was glad to see it hadn’t changed. Black-and-white floors, red vinyl booths, and the delicious scent of cheeseburgers cooking on the grill. She was also happy to see there weren’t many customers this early in the day.

  “How’s Wes taking being an instant daddy?” Amanda asked, leaning against the counter.

  Back when Isabelle was living in Texas, she’d spent a lot of time in Royal. She and Amanda had become friends, and it was really good to see her again. Actually, she’d enjoyed a lot about being back in Royal and hadn’t really expected to, since she’d left Texas so abruptly, thinking to put it all behind her.

  “It’s been a little iffy,” Isabelle said honestly. “He’s crazy about Caroline and the feeling’s mutual.”

  “But...?”

  She smiled and sighed. Amanda always had been too intuitive. “But I have the same problem I did five years ago,” she admitted. “I love him and he likes me. And just how fifth grade does that sound?” She sighed and gave in to her inner worries. “I just don’t know if this is going to work or not.”

  “Sweetie,” Amanda said softly, “nobody ever knows that going in. With Nathan and I, it was touch and go from the beginning. But it was worth it. So don’t give up. Just ride it out and hope for the best.”

  Good advice, she thought, and if it was just her, maybe she would. But she had Caroline to worry about now, too. And she couldn’t justify risking her little girl’s heart on the off chance that Wes would see how good they all were together and want it to be permanent.

  Although... “Wes has been...different,” Isabelle said, keeping her voice low, confidential, just in case there were any big ears listening in. “He’s warmer than he was. More reachable somehow. Less obsessed with his business. Sometimes I look at him and I think, it could work. And then I worry that I’m seeing what I want to see. Basically,” she said on a choked laugh, “I’m going a little crazy.”

  Amanda laughed and patted her hand. “Isabelle, we’re all a little crazy.”

  Smiling ruefully, she admitted, “I hate that I’m getting pulled in, but Amanda, I keep thinking that this time Wes and I might have the chance to build something.”

  Amanda sighed in commiseration. “Sweetie, if he has a brain in his head, he won’t mess this up.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  When Isabelle reached the office in Houston, Robin wasn’t at her desk, but the door to Wes’s inner sanctum was partially open. Thinking he and Robin were going over some work, she approached quietly and listened, not wanting to interrupt.

  “It worked perfectly.” A man’s voice spoke up. “Bradford was so impressed seeing pictures of you, Isabelle and Caroline together, he’s giving you everything you wanted.”

  Isabelle took a breath and held it as she stood, rooted to the spot.

  Another man spoke up. “Maybe Maverick did you a favor, bringing this all out into the open.”

  Isabelle sucked in a breath.

  “Maverick, whoever he or she is, wasn’t trying to help me. And I still want the IT department working on finding out just who the hell he or she is.”

  “Right. Sorry, boss.”

  Isabelle’s throat was tight and her stomach was alive with nerves.

  “Back to Bradford,” Wes said. “He’s still talking about another offer on the table.”

  “Yes,” a woman answered, “but he called you. Clearly he prefers selling out to us.”

  The man spoke up again, and Isabelle was pretty sure she recognized the voice as Mike from the PR department. “If you can just make the whole family thing work for another couple of weeks, we could seal the deal.”

  Family thing. Had it all been an act? A performance for Teddy Bradford? Had any of what she’d felt in the last week or more been real?

  “I’m not waiting two weeks to give Bradford my decision,” Wes said.

  Heart dropping to her feet, Isabelle backed away from the door. No, she told herself. Nothing was real. It was all for show. All to help Wes nail down the merger that was, in spite of what she’d believed, still all important to him. Clutching the takeout bag, she bumped into the edge of Robin’s desk and staggered. She felt as though the world was tipping beneath her feet. Everything she’d thought, hoped for, was a lie. How could she have been so stupid?

  Wes had only been using her and Caroline to fight back against that Twitter attack and the crashing of his business plans. How could she have believed even for a second that he’d meant any of it? That he’d suddenly learned how to love?

  Furious with him but even more with herself, Isabelle turned to leave, then stopped at Robin’s voice. “Oh, hi, Isabelle. Are you here to see the boss?”

  Panicked, desperate to escape, she forced a smile and shook her head. “It’s not important. He’s busy. Here.” She handed the bag of food to the other woman and left, this time at a sprint.

  * * *

  Robin came back into the office carrying a Royal Diner takeout bag, and Wes frowned. “You called in for takeout from Royal?”

  “Nope,” she said. “Isabelle was in the outer office. She brought this for you, but she left because she could see you’re busy.”

  Busy. Wes’s brain raced, going back over everything that had been said in the last few minutes. Had Isabelle heard it? Was that why she left? Damn it. He jumped up from behind his desk and hit the door at a dead run. “I’ll be back.”

  He didn’t bother with the elevator—it would have taken too long. Why the hell had she chosen today to surprise him? If she’d heard any of what was being said in his office, she had to be furious. But she’d calm down once he explained. He bolted down the stairs and hit the parking garage just as the elevator arrived and Isabelle stepped out. She took one look at him and her features iced over.

  Explaining wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped. “Belle—”

  “Don’t.” She hurried past him. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

  He took hold of her upper arm and didn’t let go when her gaze shifted meaningfully to his hand on her. The parking garage was cold, dark, and their voices were echoing through the structure. Overhead lights fought the darkness and squares of watery sunlight speared in through the entrance and exits.

  “Damn it, you don’t understand.”

  “I understand everything,” she countered, yanking her arm free. “Maverick messed up your plans.”

  “Damn right he did.”

  “And everything with me, with Caro, was all a lie. You used us to get that stupid merger that’s so important to you.”

  Insulted, mostly because her accusation held a hell of a lot of truth, Wes swallowed his own a
nger before speaking again. “That merger was important. Something I’ve been working toward for years. But I wasn’t using you. Either of you.”

  “Sure.” She nodded sharply, her eyes narrowed on him. “I believe you.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” Helplessness rose up in him and nearly choked his air off. Wes hated this feeling and could honestly say that until he’d met Isabelle, he’d never really experienced it. “I don’t know what you heard—”

  She sneered at him. “I heard all I needed to.”

  He thought back fast, recalling what everyone was saying in the minutes before he’d found out she’d run off. Gritting his teeth at the memory, he said, “It was out of context.”

  “Right.”

  His anger burst free. “Are you going to listen to me about this or just keep agreeing with me to shut me up?”

  “Which will get me out of here the fastest?” She folded her arms over her chest and tapped the toe of her shoe against the concrete in a staccato beat.

  Irritating, fascinating, infuriating woman.

  Scowling, he said, “Did it hurt that pictures of the three of us were in the news? No. But did I arrange it? No. I didn’t lie to you, Belle.”

  “Really.” She tipped her head to one side. “Explain Caro’s bedroom.”

  “What?”

  “Murals on the wall. Rugs. Chairs. New bed. Toys.” She ticked them all off, then said, “You started preparing for our arrival long before you asked me to come to Texas. This was all a plan from the beginning.”

  “Yeah,” he said, refusing to deny this much, at least. “When I found out I had a daughter—after her mother had lied to me about it for five years—I had a room set up for her. That makes me a bad guy?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t get it. But then, you never did.” She started walking again.

  “What the hell? You don’t finish an argument? You just walk off.”

  “This argument is finished,” she called back, and the click of her heels on concrete sounded out like beats of a drum.

  He let her go. No point chasing her down to keep arguing here. He’d give her time to calm down. Let her get back home, think everything through.

  Wes listened to her car door slam and the engine fire up. “Once she settles a bit, it’ll be fine,” he told himself. “I’ll fix all of it tonight.”

  Ten

  Belle wasn’t there when he got home.

  At first, he couldn’t believe it. He’d expected to find her in the great room, quietly stewing. Wes had arrived, flowers in hand, ready to smooth out every rut between them and charm her into seeing things his way. The reasonable way.

  Now, he stood in the empty room, a bouquet of lavender peonies gripped in one tight fist. There was no sign of either his wife or his daughter.

  Wife?

  That word had popped into his head from God knew where, and Wes rubbed his forehead as if trying to erase it. But it wouldn’t go. When had he started thinking of Belle as a wife? About the time, he figured, that he’d realized he had no interest in living his life without the two people who meant everything to him. Staggered, he shook his head and kept looking around the room.

  None of Caroline’s toys were lying abandoned in the middle of the floor. Belle’s electronic tablet wasn’t on the coffee table, and the house felt empty.

  His heart fisted in his chest, and a soul-deep ache settled over him. Why the hell would she leave? He pushed one hand through his hair and turned a fast circle, checking every damn corner of the empty room as if somehow expecting Isabelle and Caroline to simply appear out of thin air. “She was supposed to be here,” he muttered. “We’re supposed to straighten this out. She’s supposed to listen to me, damn it.”

  Refusing to believe that she would simply leave without a word, without even a damn note, he headed for the stairs and was stopped halfway across the hall.

  “They’re gone.”

  He stared at Bobbi and ground out, “When?”

  “A few hours ago.” She leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Hours? They’d left hours ago?

  “Why the hell didn’t you call me at work?” he demanded. “Let me know?”

  “Because she asked me not to,” Bobbi snapped, her gaze drilling into his.

  Looked like Belle wasn’t the only woman he’d pissed off today. His housekeeper was clearly disgusted with him. But that didn’t excuse her keeping this from him.

  “You realize that you don’t work for Belle, right?”

  “And you realize that I’m on her side in this, right?”

  When had he lost complete control of his world? This kind of thing just didn’t happen to Wes Jackson. “You’re fired,” he said tightly.

  “No, I’m not,” she retorted and pushed off the wall. Wagging one finger at him, she added, “You can’t fire me, because you need me. Just like you need Isabelle and your daughter.”

  He felt the punch of those words as he would have a fist. She was right. He was alone and she was right. He did need them. Wes scowled more fiercely, not knowing whom he was more angry with. Bobbi? Or himself?

  “That little girl was crying when they left.”

  Himself, he thought. He was definitely most angry at himself. And yet, Belle hadn’t had to leave. She should have stayed. Talked this out. Wes swallowed back a fresh tide of anger rising up from the pit of his belly. Sure, he’d screwed up. But Belle had walked out. Caro had been crying. Had Belle cried, too? Regret shattered the anger, and guilt buried what was left. So many emotions were charging around inside him, it was a wonder Wes could draw a breath at all.

  “You should have called me.” Turning his back on Bobbi, he took the stairs three at a time and headed straight to the master bedroom.

  No sign of Belle there, either. Somehow, he’d wanted to believe that his housekeeper had been lying to him. That she was trying to make him wise up before facing Isabelle. But she hadn’t lied. He threw the walk-in closet door open and stared at the empty rack where Belle’s clothes had been hanging only that morning.

  Hell, her scent was still there, lingering in the still air. Haunting him until her face rose up in his mind and he couldn’t see anything else. But she was gone.

  He left his bedroom, stalked across the hall to Caro’s room and felt his heart rip when he found it as empty as the rest of the house. A soft whining sound caught his ear and he looked around the door to the child-size couch. Abbey was stretched out, as if waiting for Caro to come back. The dog lifted her head when he entered, then seeing him alone, whined again and dropped her head to her paws.

  Wes knew just how she felt.

  He glanced down at the peonies he still held in his clenched fist. Then he dropped them to the floor and stepped on the fragile petals on the way out of the room.

  Grabbing his cell phone, Wes walked across his bedroom until he was staring out over the yard. He hit speed dial, and while he waited, he looked at the stables, then the corral, where Caro’s pony was wandering alone. His daughter should be there right now. Waving at him. Signing to him. But no, her mother had taken her away. Again.

  He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, it startled him when a voice came on the line and said, “She doesn’t want to speak to you.”

  “What?” Wes yanked the phone from his ear and glanced at the number he’d dialed, making sure it was Belle’s. But there was no mistake.

  “Edna?” he asked, realizing Belle’s housekeeper was running interference for her. She couldn’t even talk to him on the phone? “Where’s Belle?”

  “She’s here at home where she belongs,” Belle’s housekeeper informed him. “And she asked me to tell you she’s got nothing more to say to you. She says that everything that needed saying was said this morning.”
<
br />   He held the phone so tight, it should have shattered in his grasp. Taking one long, deep breath, Wes reached down deep for patience and came up empty-handed. He couldn’t believe that she was going to such lengths to avoid him.

  “So her answer is to run away?” he countered.

  “She didn’t run. She flew.”

  Was he paying off some terrible karma from a past life? Why else would every woman he knew be giving him such a hard time? Couldn’t they all see that there were two sides to this?

  “Damn it, Edna, put her on the phone.”

  “Don’t you curse at me. And I don’t take orders from you.”

  He was beginning to wonder if anyone did. Taking another deep breath, he held it for a second, then released it to calmly ask, “Can I speak to my daughter then?”

  “Nope.”

  A fresh rush of anger surged through him at the nonchalant attitude. He’d never been more frustrated in his life. Separated from his family by hundreds of miles and an emotional chasm that appeared too deep to cross. “You can’t keep her from me.”

  “I can’t, no,” she said flatly. “But Isabelle can, and good for her, I say. You had a chance at something wonderful and you threw it away. You threw them away. I know what you did, so if you’re looking for understanding, you dialed the wrong damn number.”

  Then she hung up.

  Stunned, Wes stared at his phone for a long second. Nobody hung up on him! “What the hell is wrong with everybody?”

  There was no answer to his strangled question. His cell didn’t ring; the blank screen taunted him. So he threw his window open, pitched the phone into the yard, then slammed the sash down again.

  And he still didn’t feel better.

  * * *

  “What did he say?” Isabelle looked at Edna.

  “I think it’s fair to say that his cookies are completely frosted.” Handing the phone back, Edna picked up a plate of brownies and set it in front of Isabelle. “He’s mad, of course, and I think a little hurt.”