The Black Sheep's Secret Child

A second chance with her son’s secret father!

Widow Savannah Caldwell faces the challenge of her life: begging Trent Caldwell—her former fling and late husband’s brother—to save the family’s ailing music business. That she’s still attracted to Trent makes things hard; that Trent is her son’s secret father makes things impossible!

Trent is fiercely proud of making his own fortune, despite his controlling father. And he’s always believed his brother got the girl who should have been Trent’s. Now he’ll have the family business, and his brother’s widow in the bargain. But will their romantic reunion be waylaid by Savannah’s shocking baby secret?

Trent’s arms were around her, his lips descending, before she could guess his intention.

Fire flashed along her nerve endings at the first touch of his hot mouth against her skin. She gasped as his lips trailed down her throat. In the space of one heartbeat, she transitioned from wary to wonderful. His teeth grazed the sensitive joining of neck and shoulder and her toes curled. He knew her weaknesses. Every single one. Obviously he intended to capitalize on her bad judgment.

So what?

It had always been like this between them. Hot. Delicious. Inescapable. She groaned, surrendering to pleasure. Why not? They were both consenting adults. She was no longer married to his brother. She’d discovered the folly in trying to create a traditional family. Failing at that, what more did she have to lose by giving in to this rush of desire? And if she convinced Trent to help her in the process, what was the harm in that?

She wanted him, needed this. Why deny it? Later she could chastise herself for this rash act.

* * *

The Black Sheep’s Secret Child is part of Mills & Boon’s No.1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men...wrapped around their babies’ little fingers.

Dear Reader,

I’m delighted to be back in Las Vegas for The Black Sheep’s Secret Child, and it was nice to revisit some characters from my original Las Vegas Nights series to see what they’re up to. I’d like to thank my senior editor, Stacy Boyd, for suggesting a series set in the fascinating world of Vegas nightclubs. The first book in the Club T’s Las Vegas Nights series, which is also a Billionaires and Babies novel, is both a reunion and a secret baby story. I hope you enjoy Savannah and Trent’s second chance at love.

Happy reading,

Cat Schield

The Black Sheep’s Secret Child

Cat Schield

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAT SCHIELD has been reading and writing romance since high school. Although she graduated from college with a BA in business, her idea of a perfect career was writing books for Mills & Boon. And now, after winning the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart® Award for Best Contemporary Series Romance, that dream has come true. Cat lives in Minnesota with her daughter, Emily, and their Burmese cat. When she’s not writing sexy, romantic stories for Mills & Boon Desire, she can be found sailing with friends on the St. Croix River, or in more exotic locales, like the Caribbean and Europe. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.catschield.com. Follow her on Twitter, @catschield.

For my Desirable sisters, Jules, Sarah and Andrea. You inspire me every day with your fabulousness.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Extract

Copyright

One

Savannah Caldwell bypassed the line of partygoers held in a queue by velvet ropes and headed for the burly linebacker with the crooked nose guarding the nightclub’s front entrance. Club T’s was only open Friday through Monday. Without a table reservation, the average wait for general admission on a Monday night was one to three hours. Savannah had no intention of standing around that long to get in to see her brother-in-law.

A driving beat poured from the club’s mirror-lined doorway. At one o’clock in the morning, Club T’s was in full swing, and Savannah was actively second-guessing her impulse to hunt down Trent to discuss business at this unorthodox hour. But she’d been turned away from his office earlier when she’d tried to make an appointment with his assistant, and so coming here seemed the only way she could get him to acknowledge her.

A wave of melancholy caught her off guard. She’d been fixated on Trent since age eleven when she’d left Tennessee and moved to LA to live with her aunt Stacy, the Caldwell family’s live-in housekeeper. At first Savannah had just wanted him to like her. As she entered high school, she’d developed a full-blown crush on him. But it wasn’t until she’d moved to New York City at eighteen and began modeling that Trent finally noticed her as a woman.

When she’d married Trent’s brother, Rafe, sixteen months ago, Trent had severed all contact with her. The loss had been devastating. To cope she’d buried her sadness. But suppressing her emotions had turned her into a poorly crafted replica of who she used to be. She spoke less. Dressed and acted like a matron twice her age. She’d lost all touch with the optimistic young woman who dreamed of a loving family, and a husband who adored her.

Savannah stepped up to the blond bouncer with the well-defined cheekbones. In four-inch heels, she stood six feet tall, yet the top of her head came no higher than the second button of his snug black polo with Club T’s logo. Where ten minutes ago she’d been truly determined, she was suddenly awash in hesitation. Even if Savannah was comfortable with confrontation, she was no match for this man. He was accustomed to subduing intoxicated, belligerent troublemakers twice her size.

WWCD. What would Courtney do?

She drew in a breath to counteract her rising anxiety and ran through the centering exercises her acting coach had drilled into her. Playing the part of wealthy mean girl Courtney Day on a soap opera for three years had enabled Savannah to summon the demanding character at will, even two years after she’d stopped acting.

In the early days of working on the show, Savannah had struggled in a role as foreign to her as Courtney. While she’d certainly encountered enough rich, entitled and manipulative women during her years of living in the Caldwell household to draw from to create Courtney, Savannah hated the sort of conflict the socialite thrived on. Savannah would rather retreat than stick up for herself and had a hard time acting as if everyone should rush to do her bidding.

She’d landed the role because of how she’d looked in Courtney’s designer clothes, with her hair and makeup done by professionals, not because she could act. Within the first two days, it was obvious she was going to be fired unless she learned to embrace Courtney’s mean-girl persona. A fellow actor recommended her acting coach. Bert Shaw was tough and smart. He convinced her to live the persona 24/7 until she was more familiar with Courtney than Savannah. It had taken two weeks, but once she surrendered to Courtney’s strengths, her flaws were easier to accept.

With a slow blink, Savannah wrapped herself in her alter ego once more. “I need to speak with Trent,” she told the gatekeeper.

To her shock, the man nodded. The smile he gave her was surprisingly gentle for one of his imposing bulk. “Of course, Mrs. Caldwell. He said to let you right in.”

Savannah wasn’t sure whether to be delighted or worried that Trent had at long last made himself available after ignoring her phone calls for the last seven days. What sort of game was he playing? Knowing Trent the way she did, it could be any number of things.

“He’ll be in the VIP section upstairs.” The bouncer unhooked the rope from the stanchion and gestured her toward the entrance.

Courtney treated most people as if they existed only to serve her. Savannah should have sailed through without giving the bouncer another glance, but she sent him a grateful smile as she went by.

Once upon a time she might have enjoyed being here, but not tonight. Club T’s catered to twentysomethings who favored short dresses that bared long tanned legs and impressive amounts of cleavage. As she eased through the press of bodies, she was feeing positively archaic.

She’d had fun taking in the LA and New York City nightlife at Trent’s side. But that was before she’d entered a loveless marriage, given birth to her son and become a widow all in the space of a year and a half. Not what she’d hoped for herself.

When she thought about the girl who’d dreamed of living happily ever after, she missed her a lot. Naive and very foolish she might have been, but she’d also been brimming with optimism. Undaunted by a lonely childhood where she’d been more burden than someone’s pride and joy, she’d craved a traditional family lifestyle, with a husband and children, a cozy house with a dog, and a white picket fence. Instead, she’d fallen for Trent Caldwell and picked the one man who would never make her dreams come true...

Handsome and confident, with an irresistible charm, Trent could also be difficult and moody when things didn’t go his way. His family brought out the worst in him, something Savannah had often witnessed during the years she’d lived with them.

When Trent’s father, Siggy, went after his younger son for his wild nature and reckless behavior, the whole house had resonated with his denigrating monologues. Siggy saw himself as the head of a dynasty and viewed Trent as the bad seed. During the seven years Savannah had lived with her aunt, it became clear that while eldest son, Rafe, could do no wrong, younger son, Trent, did nothing right.

In the aftermath of those arguments, Savannah had always gone to Trent. In him she saw reflected the loneliness and isolation that defined her situation. Believing they were kindred spirits fanned her girlish crush on him. She supposed that Trent acted the way he did because it was expected of him rather than because it was his nature. Just as she was confident that if he’d been raised by a father who’d been supportive and kind, rather than a tyrant, he would have ended up totally different.

She paused at the edge of the dance floor and searched for the stairs that would take her into the VIP section. Since Savannah had never visited Las Vegas before, she had no idea where she was going. The photographs she’d seen of Club T’s didn’t do the enormity of the place justice. The club occupied forty thousand square feet in Cobalt, one of the premier hotels on the Strip. In addition to the enormous dance floor inside, the club boasted a sprawling outdoor patio and pool area.

The club was owned by three men—the T’s that made up the club’s name. Trent Caldwell, Savannah’s brother-in-law, who managed the day-to-day business, had a 50 percent stake. The other half was split between Kyle Tailor, former Cubs pitcher and part owner of the LA Dodgers as well as the boyfriend of Trent’s sister, Melody, and Nate Tucker, Grammy-winning singer/songwriter, Free Fall’s lead singer, producer and owner of Ugly Trout Records.

Before Savannah could start moving again, a medium-size man with brown hair snagged her arm. “Hey, there, beautiful. If you’re looking for someone, here I am. Let me buy you a drink.”

“No, thank you.”

“Come on. One drink.”

“I’m meeting someone.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind.”

She’d had too many encounters with men like this. She didn’t need a basket filled with cookies or a red cape to attract the wolves. Something beyond being blonde and pretty made her prey. And all too often she had a tendency to trust when she should question instead.

“I mind.”

The bodies around them shifted, allowing Savannah to slip away without further confrontation. She angled away from the bar and the dance floor. Sheer luck allowed her to blunder in the right direction. Another mammoth guarded the VIP entrance, but he let her in without challenge. Noting the earpiece he wore, Savannah assumed he’d been warned to expect her.

She wound her way past plush, curved couches loaded with celebrities from the music industry and Hollywood. Her brother-in-law was easy to locate. She just needed to look for the most beautiful women.

Trent was completely in his element. Like an emperor accustomed to being adored, he sat on a curved couch, arms spread wide to allow the brunettes flanking him to snuggle close. Each girl had a drink in one hand and rested the other hand possessively on Trent. If they hoped to pin down this elusive bachelor, Savannah wished them luck. From the look on his face, he wasn’t into either of them. Not that that would stop him from showing them a good time. And from their blatant pawing, it appeared that’s what they were looking for.

Savannah stepped up to Trent’s table and spoke his name. The DJ picked that second to talk over the loud music and drowned out her voice. Nevertheless, whether he heard his name or just noticed her awkwardly standing there, Trent turned his attention to her.

As his eyes met hers, longing slammed into her, as inescapable as it was four years ago when he’d kissed her for the first time. Strong emotions bumped up her heart rate and released butterflies in her stomach. Squaring her shoulders, she ignored her body’s disloyalty. She couldn’t let Trent get to her. She’d come to Las Vegas with a business proposition and that’s what she needed to focus on.

“Savannah, what a surprise.” A welcoming smile curved his lips, but to someone who’d seen Trent unguarded and truly happy, it looked fake. “Come join us.”

She shook her head. “I’m not here to party.”

He mimed that he couldn’t hear her and waved her closer. Savannah held her ground, not relishing the idea of becoming one of his groupies. If she’d felt out of place downstairs, that was nothing compared to the humiliation of standing on display for Trent’s fashion-forward friends. Pity, boredom and mockery made up their expressions as they judged her.

In the year and a half since she and Rafe had become a couple, she’d adapted to his preferred style. Her husband had dictated that she wear her hair sleek and fill her closet with elegant clothes worthy of a CEO’s wife. Tonight, she’d been thinking along the lines of business rather than clubbing when she’d left the suite wearing a sheath of red satin and sheer checkerboard squares over a nude lining. It covered her from collarbone to knee and made her stand out from the crowd in the worst way possible.

“I need to speak to you.” As much as she hated raising her voice, the loud dance music required her to shout to be heard.

“Just one drink.” He signaled the waitress. “One drink and we can talk right here.”

She was not going to go sit beside Trent and pretend that the way he’d treated her this last year and a half hadn’t bothered her. Because it had. She’d been angry with Trent for refusing to even consider making a commitment to her and tormented by guilt for marrying his brother for all the wrong reasons.

Savannah crossed her arms over her chest. She might have to beg for Trent’s help, but she wouldn’t let him see her humiliation at needing to do so.

“I’d prefer our conversation to be a private one.”

She’d never negotiated with Trent and won. The man never seemed to care whether or not he got what he wanted. He was always ready to walk away from the bargaining table, which gave him an advantage.

They stared at each other—each determined to have their way—until the music and the lights faded to insignificance in the background. Trent’s gaze toured her body with lazy intensity as he waited for her to surrender to his will. It bothered Savannah how much she wanted to give in to him.

His power over her hadn’t faded one bit. Her thoughts were jumbled as she was overwhelmed by the urge to taste his sexy mouth and feel his hands roaming all over her. Their lovemaking had always been hot and satisfying. He’d spent an exceptional amount of time getting to know her body’s every sensitive spot. An ache blossomed inside her. It had been nineteen long months since she’d last been with him, and her every nerve was on fire with anticipation.

Coming here tonight had been a bad idea. She should have held out for a civilized meeting in his office. Instead, she was filled with a recklessness inspired by the dance music’s heavy beat and her own dangerous desire.

She had to go.

As a child Savannah had coped with her father’s temper and her grandmother’s frequent illnesses by hiding somewhere she felt safe. By the time she’d become a teenager, the habit of fleeing difficult situations was fully ingrained in her psyche. Retreat and regroup. Now that she was a mother, she’d grown better at standing her ground, but when overly stressed she fell back on what was familiar. Which explained why she turned away from Trent and headed for the exit.

The club seemed busier than it had five minutes earlier. Savannah wormed through the press of undulating bodies, familiar tightness building in her chest. The ever-changing lights and the hammering beat of the music combined to batter her senses. Her legs shook as she wound her way past the dance floor, and she wrenched her ankle during an awkward sidestep. Her head began to spin. Pressure built until she wanted to scream. She had to get out of the club. But which direction was the exit?

“There you are.” The man she’d escaped earlier sneaked his arm around her waist and breathed alcohol at her. Her brief encounter with Trent had stripped away her Courtney armor. Locked in her panic attack, she was vulnerable to the man’s boldness. “Thought you could get away from me, didn’t you?” His lips met her cheek in an untidy kiss.

“Let me go,” she said, but her voice lacked energy and the man was too drunk to hear her even if she’d shouted.

“Let’s dance.”

“No.” She tried to squirm away but found nowhere to escape as the crowd pressed in on them.

All at once a large hand landed on the man’s shoulder and tightened. With a yelp, the guy set her free.

“Hey, man. What are you doing?”

The drunk might have been a wolf, but Trent was a ferocious lion. “Leave this club before I have you thrown out.”

If she hadn’t been so rattled, Savannah might have enjoyed the way her assailant scrambled away from Trent.

Despite the heat being generated by a thousand dancers, Savannah’s skin prickled with goose bumps. The urge to turn tail and run seized her, but before the impulse worked its way into her muscles, Trent slipped his arm around her waist.

Through modeling Savannah had gained an understanding of her physical appeal. Training to become Courtney Day had shown her how to act more confident. By the time Trent had come to New York to visit his sister, Melody, at Juilliard, Savannah was no longer an insecure girl, but a confident, sensual woman he desired. And more importantly, one he could have.

Falling back into old patterns with Trent was easy and comfortable, and she didn’t resist as he drew her away from the crowd. He led her to a nondescript door, used a key card to activate the electronic lock and maneuver her through.

As the door clicked shut behind them, leaving them alone in a brightly lit hallway, Trent brushed her ear with his lips. “I see you still need someone to watch over you.”

Being in his debt before she’d asked for his help wasn’t a successful approach. “You didn’t give me the chance to handle him.”

“Would you like me to fetch him back?”

Savannah fought to control a shiver, knowing that to give in was to let him know how much she appreciated being rescued. “No.”

Trent smirked at her. “You said you wanted a private conversation. How private do you need it to be?”

“Somewhere we can talk uninterrupted.” She glanced up and down the twenty-foot hallway, seeing no one but hearing voices and laughter from around a corner.

“My office is quiet,” he said, fingers sliding along her spine in a tantalizing caress. “Unless you’re afraid to be alone with me?”

She twitched as his touch sent a lance of pleasure through her. “Why would I be?”

“You’re quivering.” He nuzzled her hair, voice deep and intimate. “Makes me think of the last time we were alone together.”

“That was almost two years ago.” But already the increased agitation in her hormones signaled that the chemistry between them remained as combustible as ever. Damn. She hadn’t counted on lust being a factor in her negotiations with Trent.

“In the past, we’ve had a hard time keeping our hands off each other.”

“That explains why you stayed away from me. Why did you stop taking Rafe’s phone calls? It really hurt him.”

His blue eyes narrowed. “Ask me if I’m worried how Rafe felt. He was my older brother, yet he never once stood up for me against Siggy. Not when we were kids or when Siggy refused to bring me into the family business. Rafe was the golden child and he liked it that way. So, what? I’m supposed to forgive and forget because he has a change of heart on his deathbed?”

There it was. That chip on his shoulder. The one he’d developed in response to every slight his father had delivered. Trent had been the second son. The spare heir. The boy with eclectic musical interests and strong opinions.

She couldn’t disagree with his perception of his relationship with his brother and father. She’d heard the arguments. They didn’t appreciate just how brilliant he was. The only opinions Siggy Caldwell entertained were his own. Rafe had learned about the business at his father’s knee, never challenging Siggy’s decisions.

“Still want to talk?” Trent asked. Had he noticed something in her manner that led him to believe she regretted coming here tonight?

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m dying to hear what brought you to Las Vegas.”

“I need your help.”

“You must be pretty desperate if you came to me.” Trent scrutinized her expression for a beat before taking her by the arm and leading her down the hall. “Let’s go to my office. You can tell me all about it.”

* * *

As soon as Trent escorted Savannah into his office and closed the door behind them, he knew this was a bad idea. He blamed curiosity. She’d been trying to get a hold of him for a week.

Yet, he could’ve picked up the phone at any time and discovered what was on her mind. But he’d resisted. What had changed?

Long-buried emotions, aroused by the familiar scent of her perfume, provided the answer. His fingers itched to slide over her smooth skin. From his first sight of her in the club tonight, he’d been fighting the longing to back her against a wall and ease his mouth over her quaking body.

He released her arm and turned his back to her. Picturing her naked and moaning his brother’s name reminded him why he’d been keeping his distance.

He slipped behind a wet bar that ran perpendicular to the wall of floor-to-ceiling monitors tuned to various key areas in the club. Fixing her a drink gave him something useful to do until the urge to crush her mouth beneath his abated. Trent gave himself a hard mental shake. Obviously he hadn’t thought through this scenario when he’d suggested they use his office for their private conversation. Being alone with Savannah shouldn’t trigger his libido. He thought he’d gotten over her the instant she’d said “I do” to his brother. Damn if he’d been wrong.