The Heiress

“Not yet. But as they say, the evening is young,” Daisy continued sarcastically, picking up the bottle of champagne and waving it in front of her like a red flag in front of a bull. “And we have much to celebrate.”

Gabe moved forward and just as promptly removed the heavy dark-green bottle from her hand. “Look, Daisy,” Gabe said, setting the magnum aside, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’re obviously upset, and—”

Daisy gritted her teeth, her anger and disillusionment building to an untenable degree. There were times when she welcomed Gabe’s inherently good nature—this wasn’t one of them. “That a medical opinion, brother Gabe, or just a personal observation?” she asked with a saccharine smile.

Trembling visibly, Grace murmured, “God help us,” and sank into a chair, covering her face with her hands.

Tom gave Jack another look, even sterner and more commanding than before. No words were necessary between the two men. Daisy knew what the orders were—Jack was to get her out of the house, pronto. Ever the faithful, loyal Deveraux-Heyward Shipping Company employee, Jack slid an arm around Daisy’s waist and held her tight. “Obviously, Daisy is in no condition to be talking to anyone here tonight. So Daisy and I are going to be leaving now,” Jack announced firmly but pleasantly.

“Not before I tell everyone what I came to tell them,” Daisy said, looking around at the tense, wary expressions on her half siblings’ faces. “That I’m Tom Deveraux’s love child.”

AMY GASPED, Jack grimaced, Grace moaned. All three of Tom’s sons were shocked, silent. “It wasn’t love,” Tom corrected Daisy impatiently.

Yet another illusion down the drain. “A mistake,” Daisy guessed.

“And there’s no proof you’re even my child,” Tom continued, even more defensively.

Daisy reeled at his unwillingness to claim her as his, even now. She knew what a loving father Tom was to his other children, that being a father was one of the primary joys of his life, aside from his work at Deveraux-Heyward Shipping. It was evident in everything he did and said. Hell, he’d even been a surrogate father to his housekeeper, Theresa Owen’s illegitimate child, Bridgett, over the years, out of nothing more than the goodness of his heart. Which made his refusal to claim her, Daisy thought, all the more stinging. Shoulders stiffening, Daisy regarded Tom resentfully. “You’re denying you slept with my birth mother?”

Tom’s jaw clenched. “It was a one-night fling.”

Like that excused and explained everything, Daisy thought even more furiously.

“Daddy! You cheated on Mom?” Amy said.

Tom shook his head and released a short, aggravated breath. “It was one night,” he defended himself impatiently.

“But once, as they say, is enough,” Grace added in a low voice thick with tears.

“Man, Dad.” Chase shook his head.

“I don’t believe this!” Gabe murmured in horror.

Mitch was silent, tense as he struggled to make sense of it, too.

“But you knew you made Iris pregnant,” Daisy continued probing.

Amy blinked and whirled to face Daisy. “Iris…?” she echoed.

“Templeton-Hayes,” Daisy supplied the rest. “My sister. At least the woman I always thought was my adopted sister. Turns out she was really my birth mother and my adopted parents—Charlotte and Richard Templeton—are really my biological grandparents. And Connor is my uncle not my adopted brother. Funny, huh?” Not waiting for a response from the shocked half siblings around her, Daisy turned back to Tom, still struggling to find a way to obtain her own peace of mind. “Which brings us back to you. Why did you turn your back on me?” And please, Daisy prayed silently, let it be good.

Tom uttered another long, tortured sigh. “Because I never knew for certain that you were mine.”

“You never asked?” Daisy regarded him incredulously. How was that possible? A wealthy, self-assured, successful CEO, he wasn’t afraid of anything. And he certainly wasn’t shy about going after what he wanted! Tom ran his hands through his short, gray-brown hair and began to pace. “Iris went to Europe to learn the antique business, after our interlude. It seemed like a good move, a way to get both our lives back on track, and I wished her well.” Tom paused and frowned. “It wasn’t until Richard and Charlotte unexpectedly and suddenly adopted a baby some nine months later that I realized it was possible she’d become pregnant during the encounter and you were mine. So I confronted Iris.”

“And…?” Daisy questioned impatiently.

Tom shrugged his broad shoulders restively. “She denied ever having a child. I asked for a blood test anyway.” Tom scowled, recalling, “She said I would have to sue her publicly to get it, and if I did, she would not only refuse to take the test but countersue me for slander.” He looked at the assembled group, pleading for understanding. “I was trying to put my marriage to Grace back together, Iris was engaged to be married to Randolph Hayes IV in what was shaping up to be the wedding of the year. You were well taken care of, Daisy, with people who loved you and wanted the best for you. It just seemed right to let the matter drop.” Tom paused again, looking even more conflicted. “Even now, I don’t know that you’re actually my child, Daisy. Just that you could be.”

“Well, I am your child,” Daisy countered hotly, incensed that Tom Deveraux could be trying to duck his responsibility, even now, when she had a red accordion file full of proof sitting on the front seat of her car. “At least according to the nuns at the convent in Switzerland, where my mother stayed when she was pregnant.” At Tom’s blank look, Daisy continued explaining, “Iris confided in one of them. Sister Agatha knew all about you. How you led her on, flirted with her for weeks and weeks, and then—one night—took her to bed, and then afterward, after you got caught by your wife, told her to pretend it had never happened.”

The skin across Tom’s cheekbones stretched taut as he glared at Daisy. “You’re making it simple. It wasn’t.”

“Oh, I think it was,” Grace interjected bitterly, standing and addressing everyone in the room for the first time. “Your father screwed around. He got caught. It happens all the time, especially to men of his ilk.”

Chase looked at his mother, surmising humorlessly, “Dad’s infidelity is why you two divorced, isn’t it?”

Tears gleaming in her eyes, Grace nodded and continued matter-of-factly, “Lord knows I tried to put it behind me. I really did. But after that, after I walked in on him and Iris, I could never trust him again.”

Silence fell as everyone contemplated what an ugly scene that must have been, both during and after the philandering.

Mitch looked at Daisy curiously. “What does your birth mother, er, uh, Iris, and the rest of your family—the Templetons—have to say about this?”

“I haven’t talked to Charlotte, Richard or Connor yet,” Daisy said quietly.

“Why not?” Gabe asked gently.

Daisy threw her hands up in mute frustration. “Because they lied to me for years. All of them.” She looked at Tom again, aware there was a part of her, regardless of how angry, that already thought of him as her father. Just as Richard and Charlotte, who had adopted and reluctantly reared her and guided her through childhood, would always remain Mother and Father to her, too. Daisy sighed, and aware Tom was still waiting, still struggling to understand her motivation as desperately as she was trying to comprehend his, continued with a weariness that came straight from her soul, “And I wanted to hear your side of the story first. Now that I have—” Unable to go on, Daisy shook her head at Tom. Her throat aching unbearably, she turned and headed blindly for the door. “I’ve got to get out of here,” she mumbled. And she fled.

TOM FOLLOWED THEM BOTH and stopped Jack in the front hall. Knowing he could trust the Deveraux-Heyward Shipping attorney to do whatever needed to be done, he looked Jack in the eye and told him brusquely, “Go after her. Do whatever you have to do, but stay with her and make sure she doesn’t do anything even more foolish or self-destructive than what she did here tonight.” Tom inclined his head toward the elegant front room where the rest of the family was still gathered. “I’ll take care of things here, and then catch up with both of you later.”

Jack nodded his understanding and headed out after Daisy.

Relieved that was going to be taken care of, Tom strode back into the double drawing room. One mistake. Who the hell would have known one slip could have blown his entire life to smithereens? But it had, and now, judging from the looks on the faces of his kids and their spouses, and his ex-wife, it was about to get much worse. Grace was seated on the antique sofa, her features tight with resentment. Their children were gathered around her, while their spouses mingled uncertainly in the background, not sure whether to stay or leave, only knowing—like Tom and Grace—that this was one hell of a mess the Deveraux were in.

“I’m sorry about that,” Tom said.

“You should be!” Amy cried, as always, the most emotional of the group. She dabbed furiously at the tears on her cheeks. “I can’t believe you would do something like that!” she fumed resentfully. Beside her, Grace seemed to concur.

“Was there just the one indiscretion?” Gabe asked warily, struggling to understand.

Chase regarded Tom with his customary cheekiness. “Or should we brace ourselves for other illegitimate heirs, to liven up our family gatherings?”

Tom glared at his sons. Gabe’s lack of faith and Chase’s sarcasm weren’t helping. Before Tom could censure them, however, his second-oldest son Mitch put in his two cents’. “Chase and Gabe have legitimate questions,” Mitch pointed out, taking his usual businesslike approach. “News like this could affect our reputation in the community. There are some who might not want to do business with Deveraux-Heyward Shipping if we’re embroiled in one scandal after another.”

“There won’t be any more scandals,” Tom said, disappointed in his family’s seemingly united stand against him. “Nor will there be any more illegitimate children showing up on our doorstep. Now, if you kids will excuse us, your mother and I have a lot to talk about.”

As soon as everyone left, Tom closed the doors to the double drawing room, and turned to Grace. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. It was lame, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Grace glared at him with years of pent-up resentment, the look in her eyes making him feel about two inches tall. “You should be, you son of a bitch,” she retorted just as quietly.

Tom wished she would just haul off and slug him and get it over with, instead of continuing to punish him, day after day, year after year. “Don’t hold anything back,” he advised just as sarcastically, wondering how much longer Grace was going to continue to make him pay for this.

Since the divorce, they’d been civil to one another at family functions, for the sake of the kids. Every time they had tried to do more than that, either be friends or something more, the issue of his infidelity would come up and they’d end up fighting again. Tom was tired of the discord. He sensed Grace was, too. But as for how to move on, move past this…

Grace stood and went over to the table where she had left her handbag. Her cheeks pink with distress, she picked it up and head bent, began to rummage through it. Tom studied her, thinking how pretty his former wife looked in the silky turquoise pantsuit. Her blond hair was much shorter these days—worn in attractive layers that framed her face and the nape of her neck—but her figure was still trim, her beautifully girl-next-door face unlined. As always, when he was near her, he found himself wanting to nurture and care for and protect her. Not that she would allow it. Not after what he had done.

“I always knew this was going to happen someday,” Grace said.

Grace glared at him. “I hoped it never would.” She fished out her keys and held them in the palm of her hand. “What are you going to do about Daisy?”

Tom shrugged. Now that he knew what Daisy thought was the truth, he hadn’t a clue. Daisy was one troubled young woman. Tempestuous, wild and unpredictable, and already the talk of Charleston, even without this revelation. The Templetons had spent years trying to control her. To no avail. Tom wondered if what Daisy had been told by Sister Agatha was true. Was Daisy his child? Or had Iris been with someone else in that time frame? And even if he was Daisy’s father, Tom admitted to himself, would he have any better luck, trying to parent Daisy, than Richard and Charlotte Templeton had had, during their tenure, as Daisy’s adopted mom and dad? Aware Grace was still waiting for his answer, Tom said bluntly, “I don’t know. I’ll give her until morning to simmer down, and then see if I can reason with her. And go from there.”

Grace arched her elegant eyebrows in skeptical fashion. “Good luck with that.”

He would need it, Tom admitted. And even then it might not be enough. Just as his apologies over the years hadn’t been enough. “Grace…”

She paused en route to the foyer. Wheeling halfway to face him, she said, “What?”

“You can’t leave.” Tom held out a beseeching hand. “Not like this.”

Grace shook her head, refusing his plea to stay, and at least try to work things out. She regarded him with a mixture of contempt and displeasure. “Daisy isn’t the only one who needs time to cool off.”

GRACE KNEW she shouldn’t have walked out on Tom like that. She should have stayed and tried to work out a way to deal with this very explosive situation. Publicly, it could be disastrous, if word got out right now. She had a new TV show in the works. She didn’t need this kind of bad publicity in the wake of her firing from Rise and Shine, America!

It had been bad enough going from one of the most watched women on morning television, from the coveted cohost position she had held for fifteen years, to being unemployed. But now this…

Grace didn’t know if she could handle living in the same city with Tom again, if she had to confront his illegitimate child—and therefore his infidelity—day after day after day.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to forget and forgive.

But that she couldn’t.

Lord knew she had tried. But every time he had touched her or tried to kiss her or hold her, she’d ended up flashing back to the day she had found him making love with Iris. Every time she had run into Daisy, or Iris, or any member of the Templeton family, she had experienced the same sick feeling inside her. Along with the feeling that she would never be smart or sophisticated or sexy enough to hold Tom. Not in any real or lasting way. Because if Tom could cheat on her once, the practical side of Grace knew, he could cheat on her again. And eventually, after nearly nine years of trying to work things out, and failing, she had known their marriage had to end. So she’d told him she wanted a divorce. And, in the end, he’d had no choice but to give her what she wanted, because she wasn’t coming back, not to him, and not to his bed.

Lately, of course, that had begun to change. In the wake of her job loss and public humiliation, she had flirted with the idea of trying again. Seeing if maybe she and Tom couldn’t find a way to work things out, to resurrect the love they had once shared. But now, with the resurgence of Daisy in their lives—as his illegitimate daughter no less—she knew she had just been fooling herself. She had to move on. Put him out of her heart and mind forever. And there was only one way, Grace knew, that she would ever be able to do that.

CHAPTER TWO

DAISY COULDN’T BELIEVE Jack Granger was still following her. It had been nearly two hours, and he was still on her tail. She’d been all over Charleston, out to Sullivan’s Island, Kiawah and back to Folly Beach and he was still right behind her in his black SUV, trailing her around the countryside. Not that she cared much one way or another, Daisy told herself as she drove past several rural churches, which were dark and silent that time of night, and into the marshland that comprised much of the island. Ignoring the turnoff for a summer camp, she drove past several large farms and a tomato-packing shed, thought briefly about stopping in at a down and dirty-looking honky-tonk just to see what Tom Deveraux’s “henchman,” Jack Granger, might do about that, and then continued cruising toward the center of the island.

Sooner or later, Daisy told herself as the warm ocean air blew in through her open driver-side window, caressing her body and ruffling her hair, Jack Granger had to get bored or give up and go home. Go back to her uncaring and irresponsible birth father. Something. Anything. So she could go unencumbered where she was really headed for that night. Because right now all she wanted was to be alone. To try and deal. Not that that was going to be easy, either, she acknowledged with a beleaguered sigh. And that was when it happened. The bad day to end all days became even worse as her car began to sputter and shake.

“I don’t believe it.” Daisy swore as her car came to a trembling halt on the side of the two-lane road. She looked at her dashboard, and saw the red light flashing the words Service Engine. Swearing even more passionately, Daisy tried to restart the car. There had to be a gas station around here somewhere. Otherwise she’d have to get a tow truck and another ride.

Jack Granger pulled up behind her. He left his engine and lights on as he stepped out of the car and walked up to her window. He leaned down, like a policeman giving a ticket and rapped on the glass, his jacket off, tie loosened and shirtsleeves rolled up. “Problem?”

She stared straight ahead. “Nothing I can’t handle. Now go away.”

“Sorry.” He remained beside her, hands braced on his hips. “I can’t do that.”

“Suit yourself.” Daisy tried once more to start her car, and then gave up. She took her keys out of the ignition, grabbed her purse, and deciding he could be responsible for getting himself out of her way, bolted out of the car.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Jack said.

“No.” Daisy tucked her purse under her arm and started walking in the direction she’d been headed.

Jack caught her arm and swung her around to face him, his big strong body dwarfing her petite frame. His touch gentling ever so slightly, he regarded her impatiently. “Look, I know you’re a strong, independent woman and all that, but you can’t gallivant around here alone this late at night. It’s not safe.”

Daisy surveyed the rumpled state of his sandy-blond hair, the evening beard lining his face, and knew he had to feel every bit in need of a long hot shower and a good night’s sleep as she did at that moment. Refusing to let him tell her what to do, or when to do it, she merely drawled, “Is that so.”

Half his lips curved upward in a coaxing smile. He held his ground just as resolutely, promising kindly, “I’ll take you where you want to go.”

Daisy sighed. The truth was, she was exhausted from the long flight home, the confrontations with Iris and Tom and the driving around aimlessly. Right now she wanted a safe, quiet place, and a bed to call her own. She didn’t want Jack Granger—or anyone else—knowing where she was, but she supposed at the moment anyway that couldn’t be helped. “Fine,” she said tersely. “Take me to Folly Beach and I’ll direct you from there.”

“THERE” turned out to be a run-down lodge and a dozen or so private cottages in equally miserable shape. Jack knew Folly Beach had been devastated during a particularly bad hurricane some years back, and for a while few had vacationed there because of the huge amount of devastation, but that was once again changing. Expensive vacation homes were cropping up amidst the various businesses and year-round residences.

Jack looked at the weathered buildings, with the unkempt grounds and peeling paint. “If it’s a hotel room you’re needing, we can do a lot better than this,” he said, surveying the faded sign that proclaimed it Paradise Resort. “Let me take you to one of the premium resorts or hotels.”

Predictably, Daisy ignored his attempt to help her. “This’ll do just fine,” she said, her soft lips tightening mutinously as she disregarded his offer and slid out of the car. She slung her purse and camera around her neck, and picked up her red accordion file while Jack reluctantly got her wheeled suitcase out of the rear of his SUV. Taking it from him, she headed for the lodge, leaving Jack no choice but to follow. By the time Jack got inside the lobby, Daisy was already being greeted by a thirtyish woman in cutoffs and a T-shirt. Slender and dark-haired, with lively dark-brown eyes, she had a paint roller in her hand and pale-green paint streaked across one golden-skinned cheek. “Hey, Daisy. I didn’t expect you back so soon!” She paused to rip off a plastic painting glove and extend her hand to Jack. “I’m Kristy Neumeyer—I own this place.”

“Jack Granger.” Jack took her hand and shook it warmly, his regard for the establishment being renovated becoming abruptly more positive. A little elbow grease and some tender loving care would go a long way to making Paradise Resort a top-notch vacation hideaway.

Kristy turned back to Daisy, her pretty smile widening even more. “I thought you were staying in Europe indefinitely.” Kristy easily picked up her conversation with Daisy.

“I’m back.” Daisy said, her weariness abruptly beginning to show. “And I need a place to stay tonight.” Daisy looked at Kristy, as if knowing what a big favor she was asking, under the circumstances. “Can you rent me one of the cottages?”

Kristy regarded Jack curiously, then turned back to Daisy. “Uh… Listen…I…none of the cottages are ready yet. In fact, they’re all in pretty dismal shape. As you can see, I haven’t even gotten the lobby painted.”

“But you and your twins are living here,” Daisy protested.

Kristy held up her hands with a helpless shrug. “Susie and Sally are eight. They just like being close to the beach, and being able to build sand castles and collect seashells every single day.”

“Where are they now?” Jack asked.

“Asleep for the night. Which leaves me free to resume my efforts to spruce up this place enough to get it open for business again. Hopefully, by October fifteenth. Meanwhile, I’m closed to guests.”

“I just need a place to lay my head,” Daisy told Kristy persuasively. “If there’s a pillow and a mattress or even a floor, that’s really all I need.”

Kristy studied Daisy. Understanding passed between them as Kristy realized how badly Daisy needed refuge. “Well, in that case…” Kristy stepped around the paint pan and roller and slipped behind the desk. She lifted a drop cloth, then came up with a key. “You can take cabin six. It’s at the other end.”

“Thanks,” Daisy said gratefully.

“Need help with your luggage?” Kristy asked.

Daisy shook her head. She turned to Jack and offered him a tight you-can-get-lost-now-that-you’re-no-longer-useful smile. “See you around,” she said, grabbing the handle of her wheeled suitcase once again. And then she was gone.

“SO DAISY CONFRONTED her biological father tonight, too,” Richard Templeton said shortly after midnight.

Iris looked at her parents grimly, nodding. Richard and Charlotte had been at a charity function and were still in their evening clothes. As always they made a very striking couple. Both were slim and fit, blessed with elegant, aristocratic looks and an inordinate sense of style, but Iris couldn’t help but note, only her mother looked her age. Mostly because Charlotte refused to take advantage of the latest plastic surgery techniques or dye her chin-length silver hair. Richard, however, had no such compunction. He’d had not one—but two—face-lifts over the years and had been “keeping” his dark-brown hair that hue with regular visits to the salon. All Richard’s efforts to retain his youthful visage had paid off. Although Richard and Charlotte were both sixty-seven, Richard looked a good ten years younger than his wife. Iris knew that bothered her father, but her mother didn’t seem to care.