Fortune's Secret Child

He tried to speak, but his throat constricted, trapping his words inside. The disarray of her long blond hair exuded an earthy sexuality that caught him totally off guard. The barefoot woman in a knee-length robe standing in front of him was even more beautiful than the memory he’d been carrying around for six years. A wave of desire surged through his body, in direct contrast to his practiced outer show of calm and control.

He tried to beat down this unaccustomed lack of composure and take charge of the situation the same way he did with everything that came his way. It was a skill he’d perfected over a lifetime, making sure no one could read his thoughts or feelings. Before he could manage it, though, Cynthia usurped any thought he had of being in control of the circumstances.

She made no effort to curb the edge of displeasure surrounding her words. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”

A sudden twinge of discomfort reinforced her awareness of the way she was dressed. Cynthia tightened the sash of her robe and pulled the collar close around her neck. She was vaguely aware of the scrape on her forearm, the result of contact with the rough tile floor. She put as much authority into her voice as she could dredge up from her rapidly dwindling reserve of confidence. “I made sure the doors were locked before going to bed. How did you get in here?”

As a corporate attorney, she had learned to read people. She immediately recognized his body language—leaning forward in an attempt to psychologically throw her off balance, the unsettling way his dark piercing eyes seemed to see inside her, his attempt to control the situation and control her. It had worked back when her worldly experience was limited to Pueblo, Arizona, but it wasn’t going to work anymore. She had long since become toughened by the realities of life. She pulled her determination together, held her ground and refused to back down before his aggressive manner.

“You’re asking how I got in?” Had he heard her correctly? Was she really challenging his right to be in his own house? None of this made any sense to him. He maintained his outer facade of total authority as he scrambled to put things into some kind of perspective. “I think a better question is, What are you doing in my house?”

Her eyes widened in shock. She stumbled backward a couple of steps. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to speak, giving her voice a husky sound. “Your house? This is your house?” The tightness in her jaw relaxed a little. Disbelief covered her features where determination had been just a moment earlier. “How can that possibly be?”

The sharpness in her words melted away as it turned into bewilderment. She seemed to be staring into space rather than focusing on anything. She sounded almost as if she was trying to work out a problem in her mind rather than talking to him. “Kate insisted that I stay here until I get everything settled and find a job. With my mother having died when I was a child, I’m the one responsible for handling my father’s estate. Kate led me to believe that she owned this house, that it was leased to someone who was going to be out of state for a while.”

She struggled to regain her determination, finally managing to exercise some authority over what was happening, even though the situation was far from clear. She stared at him, her manner no longer questioning or unsure. “She certainly didn’t tell me this house belonged to you.”

His brow knitted in a frown. He shook his head, hoping the puzzle pieces would settle into their proper places. “Kate Fortune said you could stay in my house? Your father’s estate? What’s going on here?” Shane took a calming breath. On more than one occasion over the past six years he had envisioned a reunion with Cynthia and pondered what might have been had he not cut her out of his life. The thoughts always wound up making him feel sad, so he had refused to dwell on them. Only now here she suddenly was, the flesh-and-blood woman, more beautiful than ever—not a figment of his imagination—and he didn’t know how to handle it.

He motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen. “I must be missing something. It’s been a couple of weeks since I talked to Kate. I told her I would be attending a medical conference up in Phoenix. I wasn’t scheduled to be home until tomorrow but decided to drive back tonight, instead.”

Cynthia glanced nervously toward the top of the stairs. She didn’t want their voices to wake Bobby. Things were awkward enough without her son making an unexpected appearance. She returned her attention to Shane, thankful they were moving away from the bottom of the stairs. Things were becoming more and more bizarre by the minute. Her initial trepidation had turned to confusion and now bordered on anger.

And then, as if to mock her attempt at control, her suppressed desire for Shane Fortune heated to an uncomfortable level. She tried to keep any and all emotion out of her voice. She was an intelligent adult who could certainly handle an awkward situation with a former lover in a mature manner. At least that was what she tried to convince herself of. “I don’t know how this apparent misunderstanding occurred, but there’s obviously a problem here, and it needs to be straightened out immediately.”

“I’ll have to agree with you on that.” Shane took his dinner from the microwave and set it on the counter, then turned his attention back to Cynthia. He felt a twinge of guilt when he noticed the scrape on her arm. It was not the first time he had battled feelings of guilt where Cynthia McCree was concerned.

He watched her for a moment as she nervously smoothed her hair back with her hands—the curve of her jaw, the tilt of her nose, the soft lips, the creamy skin. His breathing quickened and then his throat went dry, making it difficult for him to swallow. He finally looked away, hoping to break the bands of tension that tightened across his chest. He didn’t know what to think and wasn’t sure what he felt.

He glanced at the dinner he had removed from the microwave, then shoved it aside. Food was of no interest to him at that moment. He stared at her, drinking in her beauty as he tried to sort out what had happened.

He desperately wanted to reach out and touch her—to caress her cheek and to hold her in his arms—but he didn’t dare. It took all his willpower to fight the urge. He glanced away from the emotional pull of her presence. He wasn’t sure how to proceed but felt pressured to say something. “So...start at the beginning and tell me how you came to be in my house.”

She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her confidence faded with each passing second. She could not keep the uncertainty out of her voice. “You own this house? Is this also where you live...your permanent residence?”

“I live here three hundred and sixty-five days a year, three hundred and sixty-six in leap years.” He leveled a steady gaze at her. “And just how long have you been living here?”

She stared at the floor as she uttered a sheepish response. “I moved in late this afternoon.”

“Exactly what is this all about?”

His attitude was demanding, but in light of the circumstances, Cynthia had to admit his request was not unreasonable. She took a calming breath and attempted to put the facts into some sort of logical order, an easier task than tackling her need to set aside the very disconcerting effect Shane Fortune had on her—even after all these years. A tremor made its way through her body, telling her just how desirable she still found him.

“My father died three days ago,” she began.

“I’m sorry.” His surprise was genuine and his words sincere. “I didn’t know. Had he been ill?”

“Apparently so—” a sob caught in her throat “—but he hadn’t said anything about not feeling well...” Her voice trailed off, her despair over the loss of her father momentarily distracting her. “Anyway—” she returned her attention to Shane, determined to present a strong front “—late one night I received a phone call from his neighbor saying he had found my father unconscious in the hall and called an ambulance to take him to the hospital. I finally got hold of the doctor.”

She steeled herself. Her personal concerns and feelings about her father’s death were private and certainly not any of Shane’s business. She tried to tamp down her anxiety and steady her nerves before continuing.

“I was making some changes in my life’s direction and personal priorities and was already packed up to move,” she said, “so it was a simple matter to put my household goods in storage to be shipped later. I packed the bare essentials in my car and drove straight from Chicago to Pueblo.”

“Chicago... So that’s your car with the Illinois license plates parked on the street in front of the house?”

“Yes.” She snapped out the answer, annoyed at the way the conversation had strayed from the problem at hand. “Anyway, I had assumed I could stay at my father’s, but when I arrived, I found that his house was really a small studio apartment in a building that looked like it should have been condemned.” She still had difficulty accepting what had been going on with her father. She clenched her jaw and fought back her tears before they could escape.

She forced out her words, preferring to dictate the direction of the conversation rather than giving him the opportunity to ask questions. “I tried to get some information from his neighbor, but he didn’t say anything that explained what had happened.” She slowly shook her head, trying to put logic to something that refused to make sense. “There was no way I could stay there, so I rented a studio apartment on a weekly basis at a motel close to the hospital. My father died four days later without ever regaining consciousness.” A sob caught in her throat as the pain of her loss forced itself to the surface. “He didn’t even know I was there.” She paused, then tucked her private moment of sorrow safely away where no one could see it.

She looked up at Shane, squared her shoulders and gathered her composure again. “Then Kate offered me this house to stay in until I could get my father’s estate straightened out, find a place to live and get a job.”

“It’s amazing that we didn’t run into each other at the hospital. I’m on staff there.”

“Yes, I know.” Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. “I saw your name on the registry.”

An awkward silence filled the air before Shane finally broke it. “Well, that certainly explains what you’re doing in Pueblo, but it doesn’t explain how you and Kate got together. I can’t imagine her doing something like giving my house to someone.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a colossal blunder. They sounded way too harsh, especially in light of the circumstances of her father’s death. He saw her eyes narrow and her jaw tighten, but it was too late to take the words back.

She sharply clipped her words, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. “Kate didn’t give me a house. I can afford to pay my own way. I don’t require charity from anyone, least of all from the Fortune family. I told Kate I would pay rent while I was here.”

“No one said you were asking for charity.” The volume of his voice rose to match hers. “That still doesn’t tell me how and why you and Kate even got together.”

She spit out the words without making any attempt to hold back her anger. “I don’t need your permission before speaking with someone.” She glared at him. “But for your information she read the obituary notice in the newspaper. It mentioned the graveside service that took place this morning.” Her voice softened as thoughts and feelings from several years ago again invaded her consciousness. “I was surprised to see her there. I had only met her briefly on a couple of occasions back when you and I...”

The memory of their two-year intense love affair, which she’d thought would last a lifetime, brought her words to a halt. She swallowed her momentary lapse and continued, though a lot of the fire had gone out of her attitude. The captivating and tantalizing presence of the very tempting Shane Fortune was playing havoc with her reality. Her emotions had been on a roller-coaster ride from the moment she realized the identity of the man who had tackled her. She needed to bring the wild ride to a halt.

“Well, anyway, I was surprised to see her at the service. It never occurred to me that she would remember who I was or associate me with the newspaper obit for my father.”

He folded his arms across his chest and leveled a steady gaze at her. “I see.” His words may not have said it, but his attitude and tone of voice spelled out his skepticism.

She scowled fiercely. “Since you apparently choose not to believe me, I suggest you take the matter up with Kate rather than continuing to badger me. I certainly don’t have any other reason for being in your house.”

His voice grew louder still. “I did not say I didn’t believe you. Stop putting words in my mouth.” His voice dropped. “And I’m not badgering you.”

She put her hands on her hips, and her voice rose, her anger spilling out in each word. “I’m hardly putting words in your mouth.” She stole a quick glance out the kitchen door toward the staircase. She lowered her tone, but her ire had not been assuaged. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down so you don’t wake Bobby.” A sinking feeling settled inside her. The words had slipped out before she could censor them.

“Bobby? You mean there’s someone else in my house besides you?” Shane’s reaction was immediate—curiosity combined with a determination that said he was about to tackle a problem head on. “Just who is this Bobby? Your boyfriend?” He hesitated, his words more cautious than accusatory, as if he was uncertain about saying them. “Your husband?”

She tried to still her apprehension. She could not keep the quaver out of her voice, nor could she look Shane in the eye. She stared at the floor and uttered a barely audible response. “Bobby is my son.”

“Your...your son?” Shane staggered backward a couple of steps, stunned. He came to a halt when he bumped into the pantry door. “I didn’t realize you had married.”

“I’m not married.” She attempted to change the subject, making no effort to keep the irritation out of voice. The sick churning in the pit of her stomach confirmed that she was a long way from being in control of anything. “Now, if the inquisition is over...”

He regarded her for a second as he switched his attitude from personal to detached. “You’ve certainly changed.” He had to do something to get his rampaging emotions under control. He knew his anger was only one of them, a small one at that. The overriding element—the thing that bothered him the most and what he had to curb—was his all-consuming desire for Cynthia McCree. It was something he thought he would never come face-to-face with again, yet here it was. “We never used to argue about anything.”

“If you mean that I’m no longer that docile young woman you knew when we were pursuing the education for our careers, the one who hung on your every word, then you’re right—I’ve changed. I learned about the real world very quickly.” She shot him a pointed look. “Almost overnight.” She could tell she hit the mark with her reference to the abrupt way he had terminated their affair.

She straightened her stance and presented him with a businesslike facade that said she considered the conversation at an end. “You needn’t worry, my son and I will be out of your house first thing in the morning.” She whirled around and started toward the door, hoping she had turned away in time to prevent him from seeing the anguish that must surely have registered on her face. The last thing she wanted was to show any weakness or vulnerability to Shane Fortune.