The Tycoon's Secret Child

It had been five long years since she’d seen him, yet looking at him now, it could have been yesterday. Even in this situation, with his eyes flashing fury, she felt that bone-deep stir of something hot and needy and oh, so tempting. What was wrong with her? Hadn’t she learned her lesson?

Isabelle had loved working for Texas Toys. They were open to new ideas and Wes had been the kind of boss everyone should have. He encouraged his employees to try new and different things and rewarded hard work. He was always hands-on when it came to introducing fresh products to his established line. So he and Isabelle had worked closely together as she came up with new toys, new designs. When she’d given in to temptation, surrendered to the heat simmering between them, Isabelle had known that it wouldn’t end well. Boss/employee flings were practically a cliché after all. But the more time she spent with him, the more she’d felt for him until she’d made the mistake of falling in love with him.

That’s when everything had ended. When he’d told her that he wasn’t interested in more than an affair. He’d broken her heart, and when she left Texas, she’d vowed to never go back.

It seemed though, she hadn’t had to. Texas had come to her.

“We have to talk.” His voice was clipped, cold.

“No, we really don’t.” Isabelle wasn’t going to give an inch. She wasn’t even sure why he was here, and if he didn’t know the whole truth, she wasn’t going to give him any information. The only important thing was getting rid of him before he could see Caroline.

“That’s not gonna fly,” he said and moved in, putting both hands on her shoulders to ease her back and out of the way.

The move caught her so off guard, Isabelle didn’t even try to hold her ground. He was already walking into the house before she could stop him. And even as she opened her mouth to protest, his arm brushed against her breast and she shivered. It wasn’t fear stirring inside her, not even panic. It was desire.

The same flush of need had happened to her years ago whenever Wes was near. Almost from the first minute she’d met him, that jolt of something more had erupted between them. She’d never felt anything like it before Wes—or since. Of course, since she came back home to Swan Hollow, she hadn’t exactly been drowning in men.

After Wes, she’d made the decision to step back from relationships entirely. Instead, she had focused on building a new life for her and her daughter. And especially during the last year or so, that focus had shut out everything else. Isabelle had her brothers, her daughter, and she didn’t need anything else. Least of all the man who’d stolen her heart only to crush it underfoot.

With those thoughts racing through her mind, she closed the door and turned to face her past.

“I think I deserve an explanation,” he said tightly.

“You deserve?” she repeated, in little more than a hiss. She shot a quick look down the hall toward the kitchen where Caroline was. “Really? That’s what you want to lead with?”

“You should have told me about our daughter.”

Shock slapped at her. But at the same time, a tiny voice in the back of Isabelle’s mind whispered, Of course he knows. Why else would he be here? But how had he found out?

One dark eyebrow lifted. “Surprised? Yeah, I can see that. Since you’ve spent five years hiding the truth from me.”

Hard to argue with that, since he was absolutely right. But on the other hand... “Wes—”

He held up one hand and she instantly fell into silence even though she was infuriated at herself for reacting as he expected her to.

“Spare me your excuses. There is no excuse for this. Damn it, Isabelle, I had a right to know.”

Okay, that was enough to jolt her out of whatever fugue state he’d thrown her into. Keeping her voice low, she argued, “A right? I should have told you about my daughter when you made it perfectly clear you had no interest in being a father?”

Wanting to get him out of the hall where Caroline might see him, she walked past him into the living room. It was washed with pale sunlight, even on this gloomy winter day. The walls were a pale green and dotted with paintings of forests and sunsets and oceans. There were books lining the waist-high bookcases that ran the perimeter of the room and several comfortable oversize chairs and couches.

Oak tables were scattered throughout and a blue marble-tiled hearth was filled with a simmering fire. This room—heck, this house—was her haven. She’d made a home here for her and Caroline. It was warm and cozy in spite of its enormous size, and she loved everything about it. So why was it, she wondered, that with Wes Jackson standing in the cavernous room, she suddenly felt claustrophobic?

He came up right behind her and she felt as if she couldn’t draw a breath. She wanted him out. Now. Before Caroline could come in and start asking questions Isabelle didn’t want to answer. She whipped around to face him, to finish this, to allow him to satisfy whatever egotistical motive had brought him here so he could leave.

His aqua eyes were still so deep. So mesmerizing. Even with banked anger glittering there, she felt drawn to him. And that was just...sad. His collar-length blond hair was ruffled, as if he’d been impatiently driving his fingers through it. His jaw was set and his mouth a firm, grim line. This was the face he regularly showed the world. The cool, hard businessman with an extremely low threshold for lies.

But she’d known the real man. At least, she’d told herself at the time that the man she talked, laughed and slept with was the real Wes Jackson. When they were alone, his guard was relaxed, though even then, she’d had to admit that he’d held a part of himself back. Behind a wall of caution she hadn’t been able to completely breach. She’d known even then that Wes would continue to keep her at a safe distance and though it had broken her heart to acknowledge it, for her own sake, and the sake of her unborn child, she’d had to walk away.

“That was a hypothetical child,” he ground out, and every word sounded harsh, as if it was scraping against his throat. “I never said I wouldn’t want a child who was already here.”

A tiny flicker of guilt jumped into life in the center of her chest, but Isabelle instantly smothered it. Five years ago, Wes had made it clear he wasn’t interested in a family. He’d told her in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want a wife. Children. Love. She’d left. Come home. Had her baby alone, with her three older brothers there to support her. Now Caroline was happy, loved, settled. How was Isabelle supposed to feel guilty about doing the best thing for her child?

So she stiffened her spine, lifted her chin and met Wes’s angry glare with one of her own. “You won’t make me feel bad about a decision I made in the best interests of my daughter.”

“Our daughter, and you had no right to keep her from me.” He shoved both hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket, then pulled them free again. “Damn it, Isabelle, you didn’t make that baby on your own.”

“No, I didn’t,” she said, nodding. “But I’ve taken care of her on my own. Raised her on my own. You don’t get to storm into my life and start throwing orders around, Wes. I don’t work for you anymore, and this is my home.”

His beautiful eyes narrowed on her. “You lied to me. For five years, you lied to me.”

“I haven’t even spoken to you.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie,” he snapped.

He was right, but she had to wonder. Was he here because of the child he’d just discovered or because she’d wounded his pride? She tipped her head to one side and studied him. “You haven’t even asked where she is, or how she is. Or even what her name is. This isn’t about her for you, Wes. This is about you. Your ego.”

“Her name is Caroline,” he said softly. He choked out a laugh that never reached his eyes. “I’m pretty good at research myself. You know, you’re something else.” Shaking his head he glanced around the room before skewering her with another hard look. “You think this is about ego? You took off. With my kid—and never bothered to tell me.”

Was it just outrage she was hearing? Or was there pain in his voice as well? Hard to tell when Wes spent his life hiding what he was feeling, what he was thinking. Even when she had been closest to him, she’d had to guess what was going through his mind at any given moment. Now was no different.

She threw another worried glance toward the open doorway. Time was ticking past, and soon Caroline would come looking for her. Edna, the housekeeper, would be home from the grocery store soon, and frankly, Isabelle wanted Wes gone before she was forced to answer any questions about him.

“How did you find out?” she asked abruptly, pushing aside the guilt he kept trying to pile on her.

He scraped one hand across his face then pushed that hand through his hair, letting her know that whatever he was feeling was in turmoil. Isabelle hadn’t known he was capable of this kind of emotion. She didn’t know whether she was pleased or worried.

“You haven’t seen the internet headlines today?”

“No.” Worry curled into a ball in the pit of her stomach and twisted tightly. “What’s happened?”

“Someone knew about our daughter. And they’ve been hammering me with that knowledge.”

“How?” She glanced at her laptop and thought briefly about turning it on, catching up with what was happening. But the easiest way to discover what she needed to know was to hear it directly from Wes.

“I got an email yesterday from someone calling themselves Maverick. Sent me a picture of my daughter.”

“How did you know she was yours?”

He gave her a cool look. “She was wearing the princess heart necklace I once gave you.”

Isabelle sighed a little and closed her eyes briefly. “She loves that necklace.” Caro had appropriated the plastic piece of jewelry, and seeing it on her daughter helped Belle push the memory of receiving it from Wes into the background.

“You liked it once too, as I remember.”

Her gaze shot up to his. “I used to like a lot of things.”

Nodding at that jab, Wes said, “The same person who sent me the picture also let me know my Twitter account had been hacked. Whoever it was gave me a new handle. Real catchy. Deadbeatdad.”