Secret Heiress, Secret Baby

She forced herself to hold out her own hand, braced herself for the impact of feeling his skin against hers for the first time in years.

Much like his tone, his touch was cold and impersonal. “Welcome to Houston.”

Dalton, supportive and kind, still had his hand at her back. She smiled brightly. “Thanks, but this isn’t my first time here.”

His familiar lips twisted in something that was maybe supposed to be a smile. “The band is starting another song. Do you want to dance?”

She was tempted to refuse, but there were so many people watching and she couldn’t help thinking this was a test somehow. She would never fit in this world. The world of the Cains and the Sheppards. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that.

But for Pearl’s sake she needed to at least convince them that she was a Cain.

No Cain had ever been intimidated by anyone or anything. Certainly not a Sheppard.

“You don’t have to,” Dalton said softly.

“No.” She smiled brightly. “I’d love to.”

She pushed aside her doubts and fears. She pushed aside all her concerns about Pearl and what she might be doing right now. She even pushed aside the memory from a few days ago of Grant standing outside the Sheppard building with his hand on the waist of the beautiful blonde woman. And the one from just a few moments ago of him standing beside the bar with the brunette.

The man was a hound dog.

She was lucky to have him out of her life and as far away from Pearl as possible. And for the first time in years, she felt relief—genuine relief—that he’d left her in her middle of night and broken her heart. Without hesitation, she stepped into his arms and he whirled her out onto the dance floor. And as long she remembered what a hound dog he was, she wouldn’t have to think about how good his arms felt.

“So, Mr. Sheppard, do you enjoy your work in banking?” she asked blandly to keep her hormones distracted.

He stared at her for a second, before increasing the pressure of the hand at her back, pulling her ever so slightly closer. “Is that how we’re going to play this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re going to pretend you don’t even know me?”

She pulled away, not out of his arms entirely, but enough to put a little more distance between them. “I don’t even know you.”

“Meg,” he murmured, dropping his voice to barely a whisper.

“Don’t,” she said fiercely. “Don’t act like you have the right to say my name in that way.”

“What way?”

“That sexy, intimate way,” she said. His lips curved in a hint of a smile—as if he’d taken it as a compliment—and she had the urge to slap him. She didn’t think she’d ever slapped anyone, but she wanted to slap him because he looked so damn confident. As if her words had told him exactly how strongly she still responded to him. As if he knew exactly what was going on in her head, when the truth was, she hardly knew, herself. “Don’t act like you know me. You don’t.”

“I—”

“I am a completely different person than I was then.” She laughed as the irony of her words hit her. “Of course, you’re not exactly the guy I thought I was falling in love with either. But then again, you never were, were you?”

Something dark and pained flashed through his eyes, giving her the feeling that he had a lot he wanted to say. “It’s not in either of our best interests to talk about this here.”

“Why? Because your girlfriend might see us or because your wife might hear about it later?”

“My wife? What’s that supposed to mean?” But then he shook his head, as though he didn’t really want her to answer.

Not that she particularly wanted to talk about it, either. Bringing up the girlfriend and the wife was a huge mistake. It made her seem as if she was still nursing her affection for him. And it potentially revealed that she’d basically been stalking him last week.

Thankfully, the song was coming to an end. In the lull between songs, she stepped away from him abruptly, forcing him to drop his arms. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Grant. It’s been particularly illuminating.”

“Wait,” he said, reaching out to grasp her arm. “We can’t talk here, but we do need to talk. Can I take you to brunch tomorrow? Dinner? Something.”

“You’re asking me on a date?” Hysterical laughter nearly bubbled up inside her and it was all she could do to control it.

“No,” he said seriously, not sensing how close she was to losing it. “Not a date. A conversation.”

“No. I’m not getting brunch with you. Or dinner. I wouldn’t so much as share a handful of breath mints with you.”

He pulled his hand back, tucking it in his pocket, but he didn’t turn away from her. He just stood there, looking oddly forlorn on the edge of the dance floor. “There are things we need to talk about.”

Aware that they were attracting attention, she stepped just a little closer so no one would overhear her. “You are a lying, cheating bastard. I have nothing to say to you. And there’s nothing you could say to me that I would want to hear.”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer. She knew all too well how charming he could be when he set his mind to it.

But as she walked back across the ballroom to the spot where her family congregated, she wondered if she’d been lying to herself as well as to him.

There were so many things she should be telling him. When she’d first made the decision not to tell him about the baby, it had seemed so logical. So cut-and-dried. Now? Now she wasn’t so sure.

Worse still, part of her did want to know what he had to say. Part of her would never stop wondering why he’d left.

Four (#ulink_5be10cae-b409-5f81-b949-ea326ccfc0db)

Cursing under his breath, Grant watched Meg walk away.

What the hell was she doing here?

What. The. Hell.

He had done everything in his power to keep the Cains from finding her. The information from his father that he’d used to find her—he’d buried that deep. He’d made sure no one, not even his stepmother, could find it. Plus, he’d made sure that if the Cains ever did find her, he’d know about it within a matter of hours. She was not supposed to turn up with the Cains at a major social event and catch him by surprise. That was not how this was supposed to go down.

So what the hell had gone wrong?

Becca slithered up next to him, put her hand and head on his shoulder and watched Meg walk away. Then she glanced up at him from under her lashes. “I get the impression that didn’t go the way you wanted it to.”

“Intuitive, as always,” he said dryly.

She gave his shoulder a sympathetic rub. “I guess Hollister’s millions of shares of Cain Enterprises stock are going to stay in the Cain family after all.”