Six Hot Summer Nights

In less than twenty minutes Bronson arrived in front of Anthony’s gated home. He pulled next to the guard’s post and rolled down his window.

“Is Mr. Price in?”

The guard’s eyes widened in recognition and he nodded. “Is Mr. Price expecting you, Mr. Dane?”

Bronson shook his head. “No, but if you tell him I’m here, I’m sure he’ll see me.”

The guard disappeared into the small post and within seconds the long, black wrought-iron gate slid open, allowing him access.

Bronson hadn’t even come up with a course of action, but he had a feeling once he was in the same room with Anthony their conversation would take on a life of its own.

The palm-lined drive led Bronson to the light brick, three-story home—a place where Bronson had never envisioned himself.

Anthony stood in the doorway and something clenched in Bronson’s gut as he stepped from his car. This man was his brother. There was no escaping the truth, no matter how much he wanted to. So now he had to deal with this information as best he could and not make this any more uncomfortable for his mother.

Besides, this would eventually leak to the press, and he wanted them all to appear as a united front. No need to make things more difficult on everyone.

“I wondered if you’d be by,” Anthony said as Bronson approached. “Come on in.”

Anthony led him into a formal sitting room just off the open foyer. Two large leather sofas faced each other for an intimate conversation setting, but Bronson hoped he wouldn’t be here long enough to get that cozy. This was already way beyond his comfort zone, but he had to step outside the box if he wanted to get his life back on stable ground.

Anthony motioned to the wet bar in the corner. “Need a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

Bronson took a seat on one of the sofas and leaned forward on his knees. “How did you find out?”

Taking a seat opposite him, Anthony sighed. “I’ve always known I was adopted. My parents were upfront about that from as far back as I can remember. But it wasn’t until about a year and a half ago, when my own parents passed away, that I just wanted to know where I came from. Now that my adoptive parents are gone, it’s just me and my sister. I didn’t want to disrupt a family, but I wanted to know.”

Bronson listened as Anthony poured out his past, his heart. A little bit of that hatred that had built up for years started to ebb. He’d come here ready for war, but seeing Anthony, listening to how much he wanted to find out where he came from, Bronson couldn’t get angry. This was just a man looking for some answers, and the answers happened to weave around Bronson’s life.

“When my investigators came up with Olivia’s name, I made them check again,” Anthony went on. “I mean, I just didn’t believe it. She’d done a very thorough job of keeping things under wraps.”

Bronson’s heart clenched. His mother had secretly watched over her son, and she’d shared that grief, that love, with no one but Bronson’s father. When he died, she’d had no confidant at all.

“So why didn’t you confront her months ago when you discovered the truth?”

Anthony’s gaze faltered before coming back up to meet Bronson’s. “It’s no secret that my personal life is falling apart. My marriage is a disaster, and I was trying to get my feet under me before I approached Olivia. Unfortunately, that’s not happening any time soon. I had to take back control in some part of my life. I wanted one-on-one time with her so we could decide where to go.”

Damn. He hated the burst of jealousy that speared through him. Because of all the people on this earth, his sworn rival turned out to be the brother he never knew he had. And if Bronson were in Anthony’s shoes, he’d be doing the exact same thing. Trying to regain control and determined to find some answers.

“And what did you two decide?”

Anthony shrugged. “Right now we’re taking it one day at a time. Mostly phone calls, though, because we don’t want the press to question why we’re talking. Nobody needs that right now, with my marriage on the rocks, you and Mia expecting a baby.”

Bronson sat straight up. “I wondered how long it would take you to weave Mia into the mix.”

“There’s no weaving her,” Anthony said, eyes narrowing. “She’s in it thanks to you.”

“Me? I’m not the one who sent her to work for my biological mother all the while knowing about this secret.”

Anthony shook his head. “No, you’re the one who got her pregnant and probably broke her heart. Have you already confronted her about the fact that she knew?”

Bronson gritted his teeth. “What Mia and I discuss is none of your concern.”

“She’s too good for you,” Anthony threw back. “I told her that when she told me who she was going to work for. I told her you’d try to sink your playboy claws into her, and I tried to warn her.”

“And what were you warning her for? Because you wanted her for yourself? Because your wife wasn’t enough—you had to get Mia, too?”

Anthony came to his feet. “I’ve never, ever cheated on my wife, and I’m damn sick of being accused of it. I love Mia like a sister, and I know these rumors are killing her, especially now that she’s pregnant.”

Bronson didn’t know what to believe. A few weeks ago he did, but now … did the truth matter anymore? Another supposed “truth” would just come along later and void the previous one.

So what the hell was he supposed to do?

“I know your mind is turning a hundred miles an hour,” Anthony went on. “And I know we’ve never gotten along, but I assure you I never, ever laid a hand on Mia in a personal, intimate way. She was like my assistant, best friend and sister all rolled into one and I hated to see her go. She chose to leave because of the strain the rumors were putting on my marriage. In my opinion, that’s a hell of a woman to put others’ needs first.”

Bronson came to his feet and paced around the room. “It was Mia’s idea to come work for my mother—not yours?”

“Mine?” Anthony laughed. “I begged her to stay. I never wanted to lose her.”

Balls of tension built in Bronson’s neck. He twisted it to the right, to the left, trying to relieve the pressure. God help him, he was starting to believe Anthony. Either he was a fool or he’d finally opened his eyes.

Bronson turned to face Anthony. “You’ve never cheated on your wife?”

“Never. Not with Mia, not with anyone.”

“Not with Jennifer?”

Anthony jerked his head back. “Heavens, no. Why would you ask that?”

He was telling the truth. The stunned reaction, the shock in his tone told Bronson all he needed to know. Jennifer had played him.

“No reason.”

No way did Anthony need to know what Bronson’s ex-fiancée had accused him of. Which meant either she’d slept with someone else … or that baby had been his.

Dammit, why did his life keep circling back to lies and confusion, hurt and betrayal?

“I know there’s no love lost between us,” Anthony said, resting a hip on the edge of the sofa. “But whatever happens with Mia, be careful with her. She tries to be tough, but she’s not. She has a tender heart and she truly has no one she can rely on.”

Bronson ran a hand through his hair. “I won’t talk about Mia’s heart with you, Anthony.”

“Fine, but know that she means a lot to me.”

Bronson swallowed and nodded. She meant a lot to him, too. Damn if he wasn’t in the same scandalous situation he’d been in two years ago.

Except this time, his feelings for the woman were completely different.

Seventeen

Mia settled onto the exam table, more than ready to find out the sex of her baby. She’d hoped this would be a happy day, one with Bronson at her side, holding her hand while beaming at the screen. But that was not to be. She hadn’t talked to him in the three weeks since he’d stormed out of her house, and she was not going to go to him. Once he had time to think, to process all this information, he could come to her. If he still wanted her.

Just as the ultrasound tech walked into the room, Bronson fell into step behind her and entered.

Relief surged through her. God, how she’d wanted him here, wanted him so bad she wondered if she didn’t just wish him to appear.

“Am I late?” he asked, coming to stand beside the table.

The tech smiled. “Not at all. I’m just getting started.”

Mia glanced up to Bronson. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I told you I’d be part of this baby’s life.”

She’d hoped Bronson was here out of his concern and love, not obligation. Had he changed his mind? Did he question her again about who the father was?

He didn’t reach for her hand, didn’t even look at her again as the tech moved the probe over her belly.

“There’s the heart.” The tech pointed on the screen. “All the arteries and vessels look good. Let’s take some measurements so we can determine the approximate weight.”

Mia watched, waiting with anticipation to make sure everything on her baby was healthy and normal. Nothing else mattered but the welfare of her child. Not Bronson’s anger, not the secret she’d kept. Nothing.

“Your baby weighs about nine ounces and has a very healthy heart and organs.” She adjusted the probe. “Now let’s see if we can determine the sex.”

Mia glanced back to Bronson, who kept his eyes on the screen. She might as well be here alone. He showed no sign of affection toward her, no brush of his hand against hers, no eye contact. The words he’d spoken were cold.

“Looks like we have a girl.”

Mia’s gaze jerked back to the screen. “A girl? Are you sure?”

The tech pointed to the screen. “Positive. The new imaging machines make this so easy to determine. See?”

Mia saw indeed. “Is she putting her toes in her mouth?”

The tech laughed. “She is. Most babies develop personalities in utero. Your little one is playful.”

Just then the baby turned, exchanging toes for a thumb. Mia’s eyes misted as she watched her baby’s activity. A new life she and Bronson had created. How could he not want to reach out and touch her hand? Had he already distanced himself that much? Was he completely through with her?

“I’ve printed some pictures for you to take with you,” the tech said. “I’d like to do another ultrasound closer to thirty-two weeks if you want to go ahead and get that scheduled. Do either of you have any questions?”

Mia shook her head.

“No,” Bronson answered, taking the photographs the tech held out to him. “Thank you.”

“I’ll just step out and let you dress,” she told Mia.

Mia climbed down from the table and started toward the small bathroom off the exam room.

“Mia.”

She turned, looking into the eyes of the man she feared she’d always love, but could never have. “Yes?”

“I meant what I said. I’ll be here for the baby.”

“Just the baby, Bronson?” Mia clutched the paper-thin gown to her chest, trying to keep the hurt from entering her heart. “You may not want to admit it because you feel I betrayed you, but you know I did nothing wrong. I understand you want to place blame somewhere, but don’t use me and this baby as your targets.”

“How am I supposed to feel, Mia?” He stepped closer, the muscle ticking in his jaw. “I’ve been lied to and manipulated in a situation just like this before.”

Pulling all her courage to the surface, Mia swallowed any fear and knew she needed to explain where she was coming from. “I’ve already told you I was in the car when my parents were killed. I overheard my mother on the phone telling someone she was expecting a baby. I was so excited, and I asked her about it. She said not to tell anyone, but I didn’t think she meant I couldn’t tell my dad. I mentioned it in the car because I couldn’t hold it in any longer. They immediately started arguing. At the time I didn’t know what they were so upset about, but I remember my father saying something about the baby not being his because he’d had surgery.”

Mia leaned against the doorway to the bathroom, praying Bronson understood her actions, hoping he’d realize just how much she did love him.

“I replayed that conversation over and over in my head for years,” she went on. “I still do. If I’d kept my mouth shut, kept my mother’s secret, they’d still be alive. I vowed that day that I would never tell another secret. And I haven’t. I love you, Bronson, but if you can’t understand and forgive me for not sharing Anthony’s secret with you, then I don’t know if there can be a future for us.”

Before he could say anything, Mia turned to the bathroom and shut the door. With shaky hands she dropped the gown into the laundry bin and redressed. She wanted to be with Bronson more than anything, but this battle he waged with himself could not be part of their relationship … if they had one left to salvage.

In her heart, Mia believed all was not lost and Bronson still cared. Somewhere beneath his rage and torment, he cared, more than likely even loved her. She had to believe, to hold on to that love because it was the single weapon she had to use to keep this family alive.

She smoothed her Victoria Dane custom-designed sundress over her rounded belly and opened the door. Bronson was nowhere to be found, and the pictures of the baby were lying on the counter near her purse.

Mia slid a finger over the picture of the baby’s face and vowed to do everything in her power to keep this baby in a stable, loving home, no matter what the future held for her and Bronson.

She only hoped her plan to push him away long enough to think and allow him to sort out his feelings about his upturned life would pay off. For both her and their baby.

Bronson made a late-night trip to his mother’s house. After seeing the baby on the ultrasound earlier in the day, he’d done nothing but think about his mother and the decision she’d made decades ago.

That’s not true. He’d also thought of the hurt he’d seen in Mia’s eyes. Bronson knew there was nothing more she wanted than her own family, but he wasn’t here to be part of a fairy tale. This wasn’t a script, this was his life, and he honestly had no clue what the ending would be.

He found his mother sitting in the formal living room, reading. The timeless Hollywood icon sat with her legs folded beneath her on a white chaise. An oil painting of a young Olivia holding her first Oscar hung on the wall opposite the doorway. His eyes traveled from the portrait to the woman, a smile spread across his face. Not much had changed. His mother had truly grown more graceful with the years.

“Mom.”

Startled, Olivia jerked her head toward the door. “My heavens, you scared me.” She set her book, open side down, over her leg. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back once you had time to think.”

Bronson moved into the room, too restless to sit, too exhausted to pace. There was no happy place for him lately—except when he’d seen the baby on the screen.

“We’re having a girl,” he blurted out.

Olivia clasped her hands together. “Oh, how wonderful, Bronson. I’m so glad you and Mia patched things up. Is she excited?”

Bronson walked to the wet bar, tempted to get a drink, but knowing no alcohol could change his fate. He leaned an elbow against the dark wood bar.

“We haven’t patched things up,” he informed her. “I went to the appointment and left after I found out the sex and that the baby was healthy. I promised Mia I would be there for the baby.”

Olivia moved her book to the coffee table and swung her legs down. “Just the baby? Mia doesn’t warrant the same devotion?”

Bronson shrugged. “I’m not quite ready to take Mia at face value, considering the circumstances.”

“Oh, son. You know in your heart she was in a rough position. Why torture yourself and Mia? She’s just as torn up about this as you are. I guarantee she battled with herself over whether to tell you because I can assure you, that woman loves you with every ounce of her being.”

Bronson raked a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to hear about Mia’s loyalty or love for him when she also had loyalties to Anthony. Besides, love was based on trust. Plain and simple. And he’d finally begun to trust her before this latest life-altering blow.

“I’m here to talk about you,” he told her. “Mia can take care of herself.”

Olivia’s eyes closed. “If you truly think that, then you don’t know the girl at all.”

He couldn’t get into this. He was still trying to come to grips with everything and sort through his feelings. Couldn’t people understand that he couldn’t take another betrayal?

“When I saw the baby on the screen today, I thought of you.” Bronson pushed off the bar and moved across the wide room to sit in a wing-back chair across from his mother. “How you must’ve felt to give up a child, how selfless the act was.”

“The act was utterly selfish, Bronson. I gave Anthony up because I was starting a promising career and was rising fast in the movie industry. I knew I wanted a career first and a family later, and I wasn’t even in love. I had a fling—plain and simple. I was a selfish woman.”

“That’s not selfish, Mom, that’s love.”

Olivia batted a hand in the air. “Maybe so, but I knew giving him to a family who wanted a child would be best. Soon after, Anthony’s parents discovered they were going to have a baby of their own. Giving him up was the hardest decision of my life, and I questioned myself every day, but I know, looking back, I did what was right.”

Bronson leaned forward on his knees. “Tell me the truth. Did you not tell me and Victoria because you thought we’d be disappointed or because Anthony and I are rivals and you were afraid of the outcome?”

With misty eyes, Olivia smiled. “Both. I was afraid if you found out Anthony was your half brother, you’d hate him more. But mostly I feared you and your sister would look at me with disappointment in your eyes. I worried what you’d think of me.”

Bronson’s heart melted. “I think you’re human. Do I like that you kept this from us? No. Do I like that Anthony is a blood relation? Hell, no. But I love you, Mom. Unconditionally and forever.”

A cry escaped Olivia as she closed her eyes against the tears. “You don’t know how much I wanted you to feel that way, to understand my actions and not hate me.”

Bronson moved to sit next to his mother. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her to his side. “When I saw that baby today I realized that I would do anything to ensure a good, stable life for her. That’s when I realized you had to have battled this guilt for years. All you wanted was to give Anthony a good life with a loving family.”

Except for when his father died of a sudden heart attack, Bronson had never seen his mother this vulnerable, this emotional.

“Please, Bronson,” his mother sniffed. “Please don’t throw away what you have with Mia. Try to make this work. She loves you and she loves this baby.”

“How can I be sure she won’t deceive me?”

Olivia sat up, looked him in the eye. “If she were out to deceive you or she had something going on with Anthony, don’t you think she would’ve gone to the tabloids the second she uncovered the truth?”

Bronson swallowed. “I suppose. I just can’t live with another broken heart.”

“Who says you have to?” Olivia patted her damp cheeks. “I can almost guarantee that if you go to Mia, she’ll not only welcome you with open arms, she’ll forgive you for doubting her. That’s how true love works. It’s forgiving. You’ve forgiven me, haven’t you?”

Bronson smiled. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“And that’s how Mia will feel. Don’t shut her out when you need each other most. Believe me—love only comes once. Don’t waste time arguing over my past sins.”

Pulling his mother into another hug, Bronson kissed her cheek. “Quit blaming yourself for this. All your children turned out fine. We all love you and we’re going to be okay. Somehow, this will all work out.”

“What do we tell the media?” Olivia asked, fear lacing her voice.

“Nothing.” He pulled back. “We wait until we are comfortable talking about this, until we all can stand before a camera as a united front.”

Her eyes bore into his. “Can you do that? Can you bury your hatred for Anthony?”

Bronson swallowed. “I’m beginning to realize he’s not the man I thought he was. True, we clash on film sets, but as for the private life he’s led, it’s not nearly as wild and deceitful as I’d thought.”

“So you’ll make this work?”

The hope in Olivia’s eyes, in her voice had Bronson nodding. “But first I have to get my own life straightened out.”

He kissed his mother one last time on the cheek. He might have a great deal of groveling in his immediate future, but the end result with Mia and his baby in his life was all that mattered at this point.

Eighteen

Nearly six months along in the pregnancy and Mia had never felt better. Other than her disappearing waist, she had no complaints. But every time she felt a kick or a swift movement from her baby girl, the waistline was all but forgotten and joy filled her.

The baby name book wasn’t giving her any suggestions she thought she—or the baby—could live with for the rest of her life. She’d been through the thing at least five times and nothing resonated with her.

Of course, her heart hadn’t really been in the search because this was not something she wanted to decide on her own. She wanted Bronson at her side, giving suggestions, laughing when she chose silly name combinations.

But since she’d seen him in the doctor’s office yesterday, he’d only called to double-check on her next exam appointment. Other than that, he’d said nothing on a more personal level.

And there was only so long she would wait before she marched to his mansion and made him see what he was throwing away because of pride and fear. She’d tossed down the proverbial gauntlet, so why hadn’t he picked it up?

Why did men let such negative emotions rule their love lives? And speaking of negative emotions, Mia was still reeling from Anthony’s phone call earlier when he’d told her that he and Charlotte had separated. But she couldn’t dwell on that now.

Mia glanced at the boxes sitting in the room she’d had painted a very pale pink. The furniture had arrived yesterday, and she’d instructed the deliveryman to put everything in here. The bedding would arrive shortly if Bronson called Fabrizio to tell him the baby’s gender.

When she and Bronson had ordered the crib and bedding, she certainly hadn’t expected to be the only one putting it all together. She’d envisioned them working as a team, taking an occasional break to feel the baby moving within her belly, sharing a smile of recognition that they were going to be parents in just a few short months.

Mia moved into the room. There was no way she could move anything by herself. Maybe some of Olivia’s staff would come help.

Mia tore into the boxes and smiled. The circular crib was going to look perfect tucked into the corner between the windows. Trailing a finger along the edge, Mia couldn’t wait to see her baby all snuggled up, safe in her bed with the chandelier-type mobile hanging overhead.

She moved to the smaller boxes and opened them, curious to know what else there might be. The second her eyes landed on the pale-pink-and-ivory bumper cover, Mia’s breath caught. The soft swirl pattern was so much more delicate and precious than she’d hoped.

As her finger slid over the ruffled edge, tears clogged her throat. This was supposed to be a joyous time, a moment every woman would remember.

She looked deeper into the box to find her boy bedding. A note attached to the bumper read, “Send back what you don’t need … or keep for the next bambino. Love, F.”

For a second, Mia closed her eyes, giving in to the tears. She was so happy for this baby to come into her life and didn’t regret a moment of being with Bronson. She just wished she hadn’t allowed herself to open her heart so freely when she knew she was going to get hurt. She’d known from the start that she carried a secret that would change his life. How could she blame him for being so angry and not believing anything she said now?