The Tycoon's Secret Child Read online

  “Swan Hollow?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He smiled to himself again. “Weird name, but nice town from what I’ve seen.”

  “Good to know. I still can’t believe you made the reservations yourself rather than let me handle it as always.”

  “I was in a hurry,” Wes said and wondered why he was almost apologizing to his assistant for usurping her job.

  She paused, then went on. “Fine, fine. When the final drawings on the PR campaign are turned in, I’ll overnight them to you at the hotel. If you need anything else, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

  “Robin,” he said with feeling, “you are the one bright spot in a fairly miserable couple of days.”

  “Thanks, boss,” she said, and he heard the smile in her voice. “I’ll remind you of that when I want a raise.”

  “I know you will,” he said and was still smiling when he hung up.

  Alone again, he drank his beer, and still facing hours to kill before speaking to Isabelle again, Wes had an idea. Grabbing the remote that worked both the flat-screen television and the computer, he turned the latter on. In a few minutes, he was watching an online video to learn ASL.

  American Sign Language.

  Three

  Wes could have walked to Isabelle’s house, since it was just outside town, but at night, the temperature dropped even farther and he figured he’d be an icicle by the time he arrived. The five-minute drive brought him to the long, winding road that stretched at least a half mile before ending in front of the stately Victorian. His headlights swept the front of the place and he took a moment to look it over.

  The big house was painted forest green and boasted black shutters and white gingerbread trim. Surrounded as it was by snow-covered pines, the old house looked almost magical. Lamplight glowed from behind window glass, throwing golden shadows into the night. Porch lights shone from what used to be brass carriage lanterns and signaled welcome—though Wes was fairly certain that welcome wasn’t something Belle was feeling for him.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he told himself. He turned off the engine and just sat there for a minute, looking up at the house. He’d been thinking about nothing but this moment for hours now, and he knew that this conversation would be the most important of his life. He had a child.

  A daughter.

  Just that thought alone was enough to make his insides jitter with nerves. He didn’t even know her, yet he felt a connection to this child. There were so many different feelings running through him, he couldn’t separate them all. Panic, of course—who could blame him for being terrified at the thought of being responsible for such a small human being? And whether Belle wanted to admit it or not, he was as responsible for Caroline as she was.

  But there was more. There was...wonder. He’d helped to create a person. Okay, he hadn’t had a clue, but that child was here. In the world. Because of him. He smiled to himself even as a fresh wave of trepidation rose up inside him.

  Nothing in his life had worried him before this, but at least internally, Wes had to admit that being a father was a damn scary proposition. What the hell did he know about being a parent?

  His own mother had died when Wes was six months old. His father, Henry Jackson, had raised him single-handedly. Henry had done a good job, but he’d also managed to let his son know in countless different ways that allowing a woman into your life was a sure path to misery. Though he’d made it clear it wasn’t having a woman that was the problem—it was losing her.

  He’d loved Wes’s mother and was lost when she died. Once when Wes was sixteen, Henry had finally talked to him, warning him to guard his heart.

  “Wes, you listen good. A woman’s a fine thing for a man,” Henry had mused, staring up at the wide, Texas sky on a warm summer night. “And finding one you can love more than your own life is a gift and a curse all at once.”

  “Why’s that?” Wes held a sweating bottle of Coke between his palms and leaned back in the lawn chair beside his father. It had been a long, backbreaking day of work on the ranch, and Wes was exhausted. But he and his dad always ended the day like this, sitting out in the dark, talking, and it didn’t even occur to him to give it up just because he was tired.

  “Because once you give your heart to a woman, she can take it with her when she leaves.” Henry turned and looked his son dead in the eye. “Your mama took mine when she died, and I’ve lived like half a man ever since.”

  Wes knew that to be true, since he’d seen the sorrow in his father’s eyes ever since he was old enough to identify it.

  “Love is a hard thing, Wes, and you just remember that, now that you’re old enough to go sniffing around the females.” He sighed and focused on the stars as if, Wes thought, the old man believed if he looked at the sky hard enough, he might be able to peer through the blackness and into Heaven itself.

  “I’m not saying I regret a minute of loving your mother,” Henry said on a heavy sigh. “Can’t bring myself to say that, no matter how deep the loss of her cut me. Without her, I wouldn’t have you, and I don’t like the thought of that at all. What I’m trying to tell you, boy, is that it’s better to not love too hard or too permanent. Easier to live your life when you’re not worried about having the rug pulled out from under your feet.” He stared into Wes’s eyes. “Guard your heart, Wes. That’s what I’m telling you.”

  Wes had listened well to his father’s advice. Oh, he loved women. All women. But he kept them at arm’s length, never letting them close enough to get beyond the wall he so carefully constructed around his heart. All through school, he’d been single-mindedly focused on building a business he started with his college roommate.

  Together, they’d bought up hundreds of tiny, aerodynamically perfect toy planes at auction, then sold them at a profit to bored college students at UT. Within a week, planes had been flying from dorm windows, classrooms, down staircases. The students set up contests for flight, distance and accuracy. Seeing how quickly they’d sold out of their only product, Wes and his friend had put the money they made back into their growing business. Soon, they were the go-to guys for toys to help fight boredom and mental fatigue. By the time they graduated, Wes had found his life’s path. He bought out his friend, allowing him to finance his way through medical school, and Wes took Texas Toy Goods Inc. to the top.

  Along the way, there had been more women, but none of them had left a mark on him—until Belle. And he’d fought against that connection with everything he had. He wasn’t looking for love. He’d seen his own father wallow in his sorrow until the day he died and was able to finally rejoin the woman he’d mourned for more than twenty years. Wes had no intention of allowing his life to be turned upside down for something as ephemeral as love.

  Yet now here he was, out in front of Belle’s house, where his daughter slept. The world as he knew it was over. The new world was undiscovered country. And, he told himself, there was no time like the present to start exploring it.

  He got out of the car, turned the collar of his black leather jacket up against the wind, closed the car door and headed up the brick walk that had been shoveled clear. Funny to think about all the times he’d avoided the very complication he was now insisting on. Still, he thought as he climbed the steps to the porch, he could take the easy way out, go along with what Belle wanted and simply disappear. His daughter wouldn’t miss him because she wasn’t even aware of his existence.

  And that was what gnawed at him. His little girl didn’t know him. She’d looked up at him today and hadn’t realized who the hell he was. Who would have thought that the simple action would have hit him so hard? So yeah, he could walk away, but what would that make him?

  “A coward, that’s what,” he grumbled as he stood before the front door. Well, Wes Jackson was many things, but no one had ever accused him of cowardice, and that wasn’t going to change now. />
  He might not have wanted children, but he had one now, and damned if he’d pretend otherwise. With that thought firmly in mind, he rapped his knuckles against the door and waited impatiently for it to open.

  A second later, Belle was there, haloed in light, her blond hair shining, her eyes worried. She wore faded jeans and a long-sleeved, dark rose T-shirt. Her feet were bare and boasted bloodred polish on her nails.

  Why he found that incredibly sexy, he couldn’t have said and didn’t want to consider.

  “Is she asleep?” he asked.

  “She’s in bed,” Belle answered. “Sleep is a separate issue.” Stepping back to allow him to enter, she closed the door, locked it and said, “Usually, she lies awake for a while, talking to herself or to Lizzie.”

  Wes stopped in the act of shrugging out of his jacket and looked at her. “Who’s Lizzie?”

  “Her stuffed dog.”

  “Oh.” Nodding, he took his jacket off and hung it on the coat tree beside the door. For a minute there he’d actually thought maybe he was the father of twins or something. Looking at Belle, he said, “I half expected you to not open the door to me tonight.”

  “I thought about it,” she admitted, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Heck, I thought about snatching Caro up and flying to Europe. Just not being here when you showed up.”

  He hadn’t considered that possibility. Now Wes realized he should have. He’d done his research and knew that Belle was wealthy enough to have disappeared if she’d wanted to, and he’d have spent years trying to find her and their daughter. Anger bubbled but was smoothed over by the fact that she hadn’t run. That she was here. To give him the answers he needed.

  “I would have found you.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She pulled her hands free, then folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her upper arms briskly, as if she were cold. But the house was warm in spite of the frigid temperatures outside. So it must be nerves, he told himself and could almost sympathize. “That’s just one of the reasons I didn’t go.”

  Curious, he asked, “What’re the others?”

  Sighing a little, she looked up at him. “Believe it or not, you showing up here like this isn’t the only thing I have to think about. My daughter comes first. I couldn’t tear Caro away from her home. She has friends here. The uncles who love her are here. Secondly, this is my place, and I won’t run. Not even from you.”

  He looked down into her eyes and saw pride and determination. He could understand that. Hell, he could use it. Her pride would demand that she listen to him whether she wanted to or not. Her pride would make sure she caved to his demands if only to prove she didn’t fear him becoming a part of their daughter’s life.

  Belle had always been more complicated than any other woman he’d ever known. She was smart, funny, driven, and her personality was strong enough that she’d never had any trouble standing up for herself. Which meant that though he’d get his way in the end, it wouldn’t be an easy road.

  As they stood together in the quiet entryway, iron-clad pendant lights hung from the ceiling and cast shadows across her face that seemed to settle in her eyes. She looked...vulnerable for a second, and Wes steeled himself against feeling sympathy for her. Hell, she’d cheated him for five long years. He’d missed her pregnancy, missed the birth of his daughter, missed every damn thing. If anyone deserved some sympathy around here, it was him.

  As if she could sense his thoughts, that vulnerability she’d inadvertently shown faded fast. “Do you want some coffee?”

  “I want answers.”

  “Over coffee,” she said. “Come on. We can sit in the kitchen.”

  He followed her down the hall, glancing around him as he went. The house was beautiful. There were brightly colored rugs spread everywhere on the oak floors so that the sound of his footsteps went from harsh to muffled as he navigated through the house. The dining room was big, but not formal. There was a huge pedestal table with six chairs drawn up to it. Pine branches jutted up from a tall porcelain vase and spilled that rich fragrance into the air.

  He couldn’t help comparing her home to his own back in Royal. Though Wes’s house was big and luxurious, it lacked the warmth he found here. Not surprising, he supposed, since he was only there to sleep and eat. The only other person who spent time in his house besides himself was his housekeeper, and she kept the place sparkling clean but couldn’t do a thing about the impersonal feel. Frowning a little, he pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the moment at hand.

  Isabelle didn’t speak until they were in the kitchen, then it was only to say, “You still take your coffee black?”

  “Yeah,” he said, surprised she remembered. The kitchen had slate-blue walls, white cabinets, black granite on the counters and a long center island that boasted four stools. There was a small table with four chairs in a bay window, and Isabelle waved him toward it.

  “Go sit down, this’ll take a minute.”

  He took a chair that afforded him a view of her, and damned if he didn’t enjoy it. He could be as angry as ever and still have a purely male appreciation for a woman who could look that good in jeans. Hell, maybe it was the Texan in him, but a woman who filled out denim like she did was the stuff dreams were made of. But he’d already had that dream and let it go, so there was no point in thinking about it again now.

  He narrowed his gaze on her. She was nervous. He could see that, too.

  Well, she had a right to be.

  “So,” he said abruptly, “how long have you lived here?”

  She jolted a little at the sound of his voice reverberating through the big kitchen, but recovered quickly enough. Throwing him a quick glance, she set several cookies on a plate, then said, “In Swan Hollow? I grew up here.”

  He already knew that, thanks to the internet. “So you’ve always lived in this house?”

  She took one mug out of the machine, reset it and set the next mug in place. “No, my brother Chance lives in the family home now.”

  One eyebrow lifted. Truth be told, as soon as he’d discovered who Belle was and where she lived, he hadn’t looked any deeper. “You have a brother? Wait. Yeah. You said uncles earlier.”

  She gave him a wry smile. “I have three older brothers. Chance, Eli and Tyler. Fair warning, you’ll probably be meeting them once they find out you’re here.”

  Fine. He could handle her brothers. “They don’t worry me.”

  “Okay. The three of them live just up the road. My parents had a big tract of land, and when they died, Chance moved into the big house and Eli and Tyler built homes for themselves on the land.”

  “Why didn’t you? Why live here and not closer to your family?”

  She laughed shortly. “In summer it takes about five minutes to walk to any of their houses. It’s not like I’m far away.” She carried a plate of cookies to the table and set them down. Homemade chocolate chip. When she turned to go back for the coffee, she said, “I wanted to live closer to town, with Caroline. She has school and friends...” Her voice trailed off as she set his coffee in front of him and then took her own cup and sat down in the chair opposite him.

  “Big house for just the two of you,” he mused, though even as he said it, he thought again about his own home. It was bigger than this place and only he and his housekeeper lived there.

  “It’s big, but when I was a girl, I loved this house.” She looked around the kitchen and he knew she was seeing the character, the charm of the building, not the sleek appliances or the updated tile floor. “I used to walk past it all the time and wonder about what it was like inside. When it went up for sale, I had to have it. I had it remodeled and brought it back to life, and sometimes I think the house is grateful for it.” She looked at him and shrugged. “Sounds silly, but...anyway, my housekeeper, Edna, and her husband, Marco, my gardener, liv
e in the guest house out back. So Caro and I have the main house to ourselves.”

  Outside, the dark pressed against the windows, but the light in the room kept it at bay. Wes had a sip of coffee, more to take a moment to gather his thoughts than for anything else. He was at home in any situation, yet here and now, he felt a little off balance. It had started with his first look at Belle after five long years. Then seeing Caroline had just pushed him over the edge. He really hadn’t taken in yet just how completely his life had been forever altered. All he knew for sure was that things were different now. And he had to forge a path through uncharted territory.

  When he set the mug back on the table, he looked into her eyes and asked, “Did you tell Caroline who I am?”

  She bit at her bottom lip. “No.”

  “Good.”

  “What?” Clearly surprised, she stared at him, questions in her eyes.

  “I want her to get to know me before we spring it on her,” Wes said. He’d had some time to think about this, during his long day of waiting, and though he wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and claim his daughter, it wasn’t the smart plan. He wanted Caroline to get used to him, to come to like him before she found out he was her father.

  “Okay,” she said. “That makes sense, I guess.”

  She looked relieved and Wes spoke up fast to end whatever delusion she was playing out in her head. “Don’t take this to mean I might change my mind about all of this. I’m not going anywhere. Caroline is my daughter, Belle. And I want her to know that. I’m going to be a part of her life, whether you like the idea or not.”

  Irritation flashed on her features briefly, then faded as she took a gulp of her coffee and set the mug down again. “I understand. But you have to understand something, too, Wes. I won’t let Caroline be hurt.”

  Insult slapped at him. What was he, a monster? He wasn’t looking to cause Caroline pain, for God’s sake. He was her father and he wanted her to know that. “I’m not going to hurt her.”