The Pint-Sized Secret

“Dad, what are you not telling me?”

“Nothing,” Bryce insisted, his expression setting stubbornly.

“Let me check into her background at least,” Jeb pleaded.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re in no position to question my judgment. Don’t you think I know what I’m doing when it comes to hiring someone in such a critical position?”

There was no answer to that that was going to please his father and Jeb knew it. He searched for a way to suggest that even the great Bryce Delacourt could occasionally be duped by someone intent on deceiving him.

“Spies tend to be clever at concealing things, Dad. That’s their nature,” he ventured cautiously. “If we’re up against a pro, not even your well-honed instincts would kick in. Why not let me look into it? If you’re so sure she’s innocent, what’s the harm?”

“The harm is that you could damage an innocent woman’s reputation.”

“I don’t intend to broadcast my suspicions,” Jeb countered. “Give me a little credit.”

“Forget it,” Bryce said again. “I don’t care how careful you think you’re being, word will leak out. Brianna’s good name will be forever tarnished.”

Jeb studied his father. He was missing something. Was there more going on between him and Brianna than Jeb had guessed? She was a beautiful woman, after all. He’d noticed that long before he’d had any cause to be suspicious of her. In fact, it was because of his own attraction to Brianna that he’d forced himself to try to examine objectively what little evidence he had. To his regret, no matter how he looked at the facts, he still thought everything pointed to Brianna being involved in the leaks to their competitors. The problems hadn’t arisen until after her arrival, and now they were being repeated.

Maybe his father was incapable of such objectivity. After all, his father wouldn’t be the first man to let his libido overrule his common sense. Maybe he had noticed the same drop-dead gorgeous body that Jeb had seen, though in a company the size of Delacourt Oil, surely there would have been rampant rumors if there had been anything personal going on between the president and his top geologist, a woman nearly thirty years younger than he.

Still, Jeb couldn’t deny that his father was a handsome, vital man, to say nothing of being a very wealthy one. There was little gray in his black hair, just enough to make him look even more distinguished. He jogged daily, used his home gym regularly. He could easily have passed for a man ten years younger. And if Brianna was deceitful enough to sell corporate secrets, why not make a play for the married CEO, as well?

Now in their late fifties, Bryce and Helen Delacourt had been married a long time. The road hadn’t always been smooth, despite the united front they tried to present to the world. Even so, Jeb didn’t think there had been affairs on either side. He simply didn’t want to believe that his father’s reasons for defending Brianna were personal. He was sure his father had too much integrity to engage in a tawdry office romance.

But despite his conviction, he felt compelled to broach the subject. If his dad was wearing blinders when it came to the beautiful Brianna, Jeb needed to know it. He could rally his brothers to his side, then together they could present a united front. His father would have to listen to reason and allow the investigation to go forward.

“Dad,” he began cautiously, “is there something going on here I don’t know about? Are you and Brianna—?”

“Stop right now!” In a way that demonstrated just how angry he really was, his father set his coffee cup down very carefully, very precisely, then leaned forward. “Don’t even go there, Jeb. Don’t insult me or Brianna O’Ryan. This is about the fact that I am still in charge of this company. It’s about who decides if and when we have a problem, nothing more or less,” he said in a cool, measured tone. “I won’t have so much as a hint that our top geologist is anything other than loyal. I sure as hell don’t want my own son suggesting that there’s something going on between the two of us. Are we clear?”

Only marginally reassured, Jeb knew when he was defeated. He sighed, but murmured dutifully, “We’re clear.”

“Good. That’s that then.” His father’s expression turned neutral. “So,” he inquired casually, “how was Dylan when you saw him? And Trish?”

Jeb wanted to protest the shift in topic but knew better. Any further discussion of Brianna would have to wait until his father’s temper cooled. Besides, maybe this new subject was an area in which he could actually engineer some progress. If so, the meeting wouldn’t have been a total waste of his time.

“Happy,” he told his father. “They both wish you’d break down and come to Los Piños to see them. They want to show off your grandkids.”

“They know where I live if they want to see me,” Bryce said stiffly.

Uneasy at being cast in the unfamiliar role of peacemaker usually played by Trish, Jeb tried to cut through to his father’s weak spot: family. “Dad, I know you were hurt that they settled somewhere else, that they’re out from under your thumb, but don’t you think it’s time to make peace, bring this family back together?”

“It’s not up to me. They’re the ones who left.”

Jeb shook his head. “This hard line is Mom talking, not you. You’ve always known when to cut your losses. Family has always meant the world to you. You miss them both. I know you do. You’re dying to spend time with your granddaughter and with Dylan’s new stepson. Plus Dylan has Shane one weekend a month now. Why can’t you just pop over there one day and surprise them? Mend some fences.”

This time it was his father who sighed. “Your mother…”

“Doesn’t know what she’s missing,” Jeb said. “She’ll come around if you do. She’s always overreacted when anyone hurts you. She thinks she’s being loyal and protective. I think you’re both cutting off your noses to spite your faces. We’re talking about Dylan and Trish here, not a couple of strangers who’ve offended you and can be excised from your lives without leaving a scar.”

His father didn’t respond, but when Jeb casually tossed a package of snapshots onto his desk, there was no mistaking the eagerness in his father’s expression as he reached for them. Jeb left him scanning each one as thoroughly as if they were geological survey maps.

Stubborn as a mule, he thought with a mix of affection and frustration as he left. It was a trait they’d all inherited, often to his father’s very sincere regret.

But because the stubbornness was as ingrained as breathing, Jeb had every intention of learning everything he could about Brianna O’Ryan, despite his father’s forceful edict to stay away from her. Because she was a smart, intriguing, beautiful woman, he figured it would be a pleasure, even if she turned out to be as honest as the day was long.

Which he doubted with every instinct he possessed.

The last thing Brianna wanted to do after a long day at the office was to drive clear across town in rush-hour traffic, but she never missed spending an evening with Emma when she was in Houston. There were too many nights she had to miss when she was on the road for Delacourt Oil. Besides, once she got to the residential treatment facility where Emma had been living for the past year, her day always brightened. All it took was one of her daughter’s shy smiles or some tiny hint of improvement in her movements.

Fourteen months ago Brianna hadn’t even been sure her little girl would live. Emma had been in the car with her dad when Larry had lost his temper at being cut off by another driver. In less time than it took to mutter an oath, he had been caught up in a full-blown incident of road rage. His car had been forced off the road into a culvert, where it had rolled over and over. Miraculously, he had walked away with barely a scratch, but just about every bone in Emma’s fragile four-year-old-body had been shattered.

For days, united by grief and fear, they had sat by Emma’s bedside, uncertain if she could possibly pull through, but God had spared her life. Then they had been faced with the long ordeal of healing and the very real threat that she would never walk again.

That had been more than Larry could bear. Consumed by guilt, he had walked away from the hospital one night and never looked back.

Until that moment, Brianna had thought she had a solid marriage. She had respected her husband, a man she had known most of her life, a man she had loved with every fiber of her being. She kept thinking he would come to his senses and come home, and for a long time she had been prepared to forgive him.

When the divorce papers had arrived in the mail a few weeks later, Brianna had been shocked. Filled with anger and pain at the betrayal, she had signed them with little regret. Or so she had told herself. Looking back, she could see now that Larry’s selfish act had left her with a heart filled with resentment and bitterness. She doubted she would ever trust another man. If a man as honorable as she had thought Larry to be could show such weakness in the face of adversity, how could she possibly risk her heart with anyone else?

Not that she had time for a personal life now, anyway. Her days began at dawn and stretched until midnight. As exhausting as they were, she was grateful to have her baby alive and a job that not only paid the exorbitant medical bills, but was totally challenging and fulfilling. For a time after the accident she had been terrified she might never find work in her chosen profession again.

During those first weeks of Emma’s recovery, Brianna had taken so much time off from work that she had lost her job. Stunned, she had been devastated as much by the loss of her insurance as by the blow to her career. How could Emma possibly recover if her mother couldn’t afford the best possible care? Brianna had needed to find a new job in a hurry. In a highly competitive field, that was easier said than done, and she was approaching the job search with more than the usual baggage that might daunt a prospective employer.

To her amazement, Bryce Delacourt had overlooked the firing and the demands of her daughter’s recovery when she’d applied for the top geologist’s position at his company. With astounding compassion, he had also seen to it that her insurance kicked in for Emma’s treatment, running roughshod over his carrier to make it happen. He would have her undying loyalty forever because of that.

They had made a deal, though, that no one at work would know about Emma. She didn’t want their pity, but more important she didn’t want special treatment because of her situation. She needed to have the people she worked with respect her as a professional. She was being brought in to supervise people who were older than she, people who had been there longer. She desperately needed to have credibility, to gain their trust. She knew all too well that no matter what their credentials, too often single moms weren’t taken seriously in the workforce. Because of that, Brianna threw herself into her work 150 percent and still found time for her daughter at the end of the day.

Running late tonight, she dashed inside the treatment facility with its brightly lit, sterile interior, and as always she was struck by the fact that there was no mistaking that this was just one step removed from a hospital. Only in the pediatric wing had an attempt been made to create an atmosphere that was both more cheerful and more like home. Here colorful murals had been painted on the corridor walls, the small area of the cafeteria reserved for children had been decorated in brilliant shades of blues, yellows and reds, and toys were strewn about as carelessly as they might be in a child’s bedroom at home.

“Hi, Gretchen,” Brianna whispered to the evening supervisor, waving as she passed the desk where the young woman was on the phone.

Gretchen glanced up, then covered the phone’s mouthpiece and called out to her. “Hey, Mrs. O’Ryan, wait a sec, okay?”

Brianna’s heart thudded dully as she waited for the nurse to finish her call. Had something happened today? Was Emma regressing? Her progress had come in fits and starts, in frustratingly slow little bursts, followed by weeks of status quo. All too often there were twice as many steps backward as forward. Brianna grinned ruefully at the mental pun. In Emma’s case, there had been no “steps” at all.

Gretchen, tall, blond and athletic, strode out from behind the desk, a smile forming. “Don’t look so worried,” she said, giving Brianna’s suddenly icy hand a warm squeeze. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Emma’s fine. I just wanted to be with you when you saw her.”

“Why?” Brianna asked, still not entirely reassured.

“You’ll see. She’s in the sunroom, watching TV.”

Brianna followed her down the hall, her mind whirling. It wasn’t something bad. Gretchen wouldn’t torture her if it was—she’d say so straight out. She was the most direct person Brianna had dealt with at the facility, always telling Brianna the unvarnished truth, even when the doctors danced around it, even when it was painful to hear. And because Gretchen was on in the evenings when treatments were over and the facility was settling into a quieter rhythm, she had more time to spend with anxious parents like Brianna.