The Black Sheep's Secret Child

“I like being prepared.”

She popped the lid and slipped a mint into her mouth. Sharp and cool, the peppermint flavor exploded on her tongue, making it tingle. “Want one?”

Eyes locked on hers, he opened his mouth and let her feed him one. While the mint dissolved, they regarded each other in silence. His gaze held challenge, but curiosity, as well. He wanted to know if she intended to get to what else the tin held. Savannah savored his anticipation. He liked being in charge. It’s why he hadn’t stuck around to be a part of his family’s business, but had struck out on his own.

No one was going to boss around Trent Caldwell.

But Savannah had found him to be a wonderful partner in bed. For as often as he’d swept her into his passion and demanded her surrender, there had always been opportunities when he let her take the lead. Because of this, her confidence had flourished, not only with regard to her sexuality, but also in her worth as an individual.

The heavy pulse of desire between her thighs hadn’t diminished one bit during this exchange. In fact, as she grew more committed to this next step, her hunger for him had only increased.

Savannah plucked out the square foil package and held it up. “Only one? You used to carry at least two.” She might have sounded confident, but she wasn’t. Courtney Day might not have thought twice about a quickie with her sexy ex, but Savannah was rapidly losing her nerve.

“What makes you think I haven’t used one already today?”

Trent had a healthy sexual appetite, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already had sex with three other women. She shouldn’t care. But it hurt all the same. Several deep breaths later she’d pushed down panic and dismay. This couldn’t become about what she’d had and lost. She needed a brief interlude to escape her troubles and there was no better man to rock her world than Trent.

But why was he baiting her? She could see from his flat stare that he expected her to back off.

“For a second I forgot who I was dealing with.” She closed the tin with a metallic snap and tossed it aside.

Aware that he was scrutinizing her every move, she placed the wrapped condom between her teeth and set her hands to loosening his belt. Up until now she’d been doing a good job of appearing confident. But beneath Trent’s unreadable gaze, she felt a tiny fizz of nervous energy dance along her spine, making her fingers clumsy. Trent made no attempt to help her. In fact he didn’t move at all, except for the unsteady rise and fall of his chest.

At long last Savannah slid down his zipper and freed him. His erection sprang into her hands, eager for her attention. Overwhelmed by joy at what they were about to do, she paused for a moment, fingers coasting along his hot silken length. With a half smile she tore open the wrapper and unrolled the condom, sheathing him. His head had fallen back against the couch while his breath hissed out between clenched teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut and held perfectly still, every muscle in his body tense beneath her.

In her stylish but conservatively cut dress, Savannah might not have appeared as if she’d planned for a hot night at the club, but she’d chosen a red lace bra and thong set to wear underneath. Had she thought in her wildest dreams she would be in this position? Perhaps her subconscious had wanted this all along.

Before she could change her mind about what she was about to do, Savannah cupped Trent’s erection in her palm, slid aside her thong and brought his tip into contact with her wet heat.

For the first time in several seconds Trent shifted. He cupped her butt in both hands and moved her forward and down until he was sheathed inside her. They groaned simultaneously as she came to rest, fully seated on his lap once again. Savannah put her hands on his shoulders, needing him for balance as her head began to spin.

This wasn’t just sex. It had never been just sex between them. But there were no words of love or affectionate looks exchanged. This was a crazy, impulsive interlude that she desperately needed. Her goal was oblivion, and being with Trent always enabled her to forget her problems. Even when what was troubling her was Trent himself.

They rocked together in a familiar rhythm, maintaining a steady, relaxed pace.

“Take your hair down,” Trent demanded, his voice an unsteady rasp.

Happy to oblige, she reached up and pulled out half a dozen pins and demolished the smooth, controlled hairstyle with a languid shake of her head. Long blond waves tumbled around her shoulders and tickled her cheeks. Trent had always loved her hair. He sank his fingers into the thick silky mass and brought her lips back to his.

* * *

Trent wasn’t sure how he’d come to be on his couch buried deep inside Savannah, her tongue dancing with his in a passionate kiss, her manner every bit as wild as he remembered. Another woman might have pleaded with him for help or screamed abuse when he refused to fall in with her plans. He’d had only the briefest suspicion that Savannah intended to seduce him into helping her before he rejected the idea. Her hunger for him was as all-consuming as his for her.

That didn’t make this a reunion between lovers. Not in the traditional sense. Sixteen months of bitter silence lay between them. Part of him didn’t want to open the door to her. The part of him that did was in charge at the moment. Maybe what they were doing was saying goodbye. But as her teeth nipped at his lower lip, driving him closer to orgasm, he knew this brief taste of her had only revived his unquenchable desire.

Trent fought to make the moment last. But he was only able to hold on until he could determine that she hovered on the brink of a climax.

Her soft keening and the accelerated rhythm of her hips pushed him over the edge and they came together. Heart thundering, Trent sat perfectly still, his body drained, his heart twisted wreckage. Damn her. She’d made him do what he promised he wouldn’t. He’d let her back in. His first instinct as he labored to breathe was to kiss her long and deep and never let her go. His second instinct was to remove her from his lap and kick her out of his office.

He did neither.

Instead, he sank his fingers into his hair, let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. It was the pose of a man wondering what the hell he’d done.

Displaying no regret, Savannah pushed off the couch and got to her feet. Hips swaying in unconscious allure, she crossed to the bar and found a towel, bringing it back to him. By the time Trent had cleaned up and disposed of the condom, she was putting the last hairpin into her impromptu updo. The only signs of how she’d spent the last ten minutes were her flushed cheeks and smeared lipstick.

He glanced up and down the length of her as she stepped back into her tall heels, and all he saw was a tranquil, confident woman. Gone was the femme fatale. Trent couldn’t decide if he was glad or sorry.

“This doesn’t change anything.” His tone was brusque, his words more clipped than he’d intended. “I’m not going back to LA to bail out West Coast Records.”

She looked at him askance, her eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “That’s not what this was about.”

“No?” But he knew she wasn’t lying. Savannah frequently ended up in trouble because she wasn’t calculating. The fact that he’d just accused her of unscrupulous behavior demonstrated that their unexpected sexual encounter had thrown him off his game. He hated that. It was time to take the situation back in his hands. “Where are you staying?”

His question surprised her. Something flickered in her eyes. “I’m not taking you to my hotel suite, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

It wasn’t what he’d been thinking, but now that she’d mentioned it, that sounded like a great idea. He’d like to strip that conservative dress off her and make love to her properly. But it was too late for that. Two years, one marriage and his brother’s son too late.

“Where are you staying?” he repeated, letting her see that his patience was waning.

“Upstairs.”

Cobalt had been Trent’s first choice of location when he and his business partners decided to open Club T’s. The hotel’s owner, JT Stone, was a brilliant businessman with a great reputation and solid ethics. The rent was high for this exclusive real estate, but the hotel drew a chic crowd with deep pockets who liked to party and could easily afford Club T’s high-end table service.

“I’ll walk you back to your suite.”

“There’s no need.”

Savannah wouldn’t meet his eyes, and it was the first indication Trent had that the encounter had ruffled her composure.

“It’s two in the morning.” And Trent had no intention of returning to the club tonight. He’d lost his taste for partying the instant Savannah had appeared at his table. All he wanted was to head home, pour himself a liberal amount of scotch and brood. “And you’ve already had one run-in with a man you couldn’t handle.”

She gave an offhand shrug. “I think I handled you just fine.”

He fought back an admiring smile. “I meant the guy in the bar.”

“Oh, him.” She shook her head. “I was on the verge of crushing his toe with my heel.”

Unsure if she was kidding, Trent caught her by the elbow and turned her in the direction of the office door. He led the way through the back halls of the club and hotel to a service elevator. Once inside he turned an expectant expression on her. Rather than tell him her floor, she reached to push the button herself.

“It’s no good, you know,” Trent said as the car began to move upward. “If you try to bring me in at West Coast Records, Siggy will fight you with everything he has.”

“But you’re exactly what the company needs. You’re brilliant. Your father and Rafe never understood that.”

Trent stared at her in bemusement. She’d always been on his side. How had two people who only had each other’s best interest at heart failed so miserably at being together?

Because he didn’t want what she did. Family for him meant nothing but heartache.

“You’re wasting your time and mine. Let the company fold. You and Dylan will be fine without it. I’ll make sure of that.”

Three

Savannah turned Trent’s words over and over in her mind as he escorted her to the suite. His offer made no sense.

At her door, she stopped and faced him. “You’ll make sure how? I don’t intend to take your money.”

All she’d ever needed was for him to love her. She’d wanted to be his wife and raise his children. To make a secure life for her family and feel safe in turn. Being shipped between her father and grandmother for eight of her first eleven years had never allowed her any sense of belonging. That wasn’t to say she didn’t have good memories of the small town in Tennessee where her grandmother lived.

“You said you sold your house to pay Rafe’s debts. Where are you going to go and what do you intend to live on?”

“I’d hoped to return to Tennessee.” California was expensive and she wanted to start a new life far from the Caldwell family.

She never should have settled in LA after leaving New York. Originally she’d intended to move to Las Vegas to be close to Trent. He’d not been thrilled at having this plan sprung on him. It had been the first time she’d asserted herself and made her longing for marriage and a family clear to him. The fact that she’d pushed had caused their breakup. With her future up in the air, she’d gone to LA and reached out to Rafe.

He hadn’t hit her with I told you so or made her feel worse about herself. He’d been supportive and friendly. A hundred times since then she’d wondered how her life would’ve turned out if she’d done any one of a dozen things differently.

“What’s in Tennessee?” Trent asked.

Not a single thing, but at least it was somewhat familiar. “It’s home.”

He didn’t look convinced. “And with no money, what are you planning on doing there?”

She’d considered returning to acting, but that would require relocating to New York or staying in LA. But with the terrifying load of debt hanging over her head, she was slowly coming around to the idea.

It meant giving up her dream of raising Dylan where neighbors knew each other and pitched in to help. At least for the time being.

“I had thought to move to Gatlinburg. The population is small, but it’s a big tourist destination and I’m sure I can find something I can do.”

“You didn’t deserve to be put in this position by my family. You want to move to Tennessee, I’ll help you with some cash to get you started.”

She was okay with the idea of moving away, but Trent’s offer of help made her feel as if he wanted her gone. Ridiculous. One brief sexual encounter with him and she was on her way to becoming emotionally attached again. Damn. This was not why she’d come here. She needed him to save the record label so Dylan would have something to inherit.

“The only help I need is for you to take over West Coast Records.” Despair swept over her, but she couldn’t let Trent see her distress. “Beyond that, there’s nothing I need from you.” She used her key card and let herself into the suite. “Good night, Trent. It was nice to see you again.”

With a cheeky Courtney Day smile, she waved at him and slipped through the open doorway. She thought she’d gotten the final word in, but Trent had one last parting shot before the door closed.

“Take the night and think about my offer.”

Savannah opened her mouth to tell him he was wasting his breath, but he’d already turned and walked away. She resisted the urge to call after him. She was tired of arguing.

With her plan to escape her current predicament amounting to a major failure, Savannah sought solace in the one spot of light. Her son, Dylan. She entered her bedroom, found him sleeping peacefully in his crib and turned off the baby monitor so as not to wake Lori, the babysitter Savannah had used on and off in the months since Rafe’s death. Dylan was a sunny, healthy baby who’d begun sleeping through the night by the time he was six months old.

Having never known her mother, Savannah hadn’t known what to expect when her son came along. Although she’d long craved a family of her own, reality was never the same as daydreams. In Dylan’s case it was so much better.

Savannah left her sleeping son and crossed to the bathroom. She stripped off her dress and examined her bare thighs. Sure enough, a bruise was forming where Trent’s fingers had bitten down. She brushed her fingertips across the spot. Letting her body dictate the encounter with Trent hadn’t been the best idea, but she didn’t regret what had happened. Yet she knew her impulsiveness would have emotional consequences.

Maybe she should take Trent’s help to get out from under Rafe’s load of debt. Let Siggy destroy the company. What did she care as long as she and Dylan were free? Besides, even if she could convince Trent to take on the leadership of the record label, she might be inviting more trouble from her father-in-law. He was leveraging her situation to keep Dylan close. What if he came after her with some ridiculous legal ploy that she couldn’t afford to fight?

Savannah changed into pajamas but doubted her ability to sleep, so she turned on the television and sat on the couch in the living room to watch a show about tiny-house hunting. Her mood lightened somewhat as she considered the idea of finding a four-hundred-square-foot house where she and Dylan could live a simple life.

The sort of life she might have had with her mother if she hadn’t been killed while deployed in the Middle East when Savannah had been three. She’d give anything to recall even the blurriest image of her mother, Libby. Instead, all she had were the stark memories of being passed back and forth between her father and maternal grandmother like an endless tennis volley.

Her parents had indulged in a brief fling that resulted in Savannah being conceived. And despite her resolve never to follow in her mother’s footsteps, she’d done exactly that. From what she’d gathered from her grandmother, Libby hadn’t planned to tell Chet Holt he was a father. Nor had Savannah’s dad been thrilled to be saddled with the responsibility of a daughter he’d never expected.

When her father’s bad decisions landed him in prison for burglary, and with her grandmother’s health making it too hard for her to care for Savannah, she’d been shipped off to LA to live with her aunt, who worked as a housekeeper for the Caldwells.

Savannah closed her eyes and recalled the discomfort of her first few months in LA. The Caldwells’ house was not a happy place. Siggy’s second marriage was on the rocks, and Melody fought with her stepmother nonstop. At sixteen, Trent was raising hell at school and driving his father crazy at home. Only Rafe seemed above the fray. He’d been breezing through his senior year of high school and was on track to finish in the top 10 percent of his class.

With those unhappy days filling her thoughts, it was no wonder that when she fell asleep in front of the TV she had a nightmare about her and Dylan living in the Caldwell home with Siggy. She woke to the sounds of her son stirring in his bedroom and stumbled in a fog of lingering dismay to get him changed before Lori woke. Savannah loved these quiet early hours with Dylan.

Snuggling him enabled her to escape her worries for a little while. His smiles lit up a room. He was such a happy, inquisitive child and since he’d begun to walk two weeks ago, she had to keep a close eye on him at all times.

Both Savannah and Dylan were still in their pajamas when the babysitter emerged from her room. Savannah had given him breakfast and was on the couch reading to him from his favorite picture book.

“What time is it?” Savannah asked Lori, standing with Dylan in her arms.

“It’s a little after eight.”

“Why don’t you order us some breakfast,” Savannah said. “I’d like an egg-white omelet and toast.”

The closing on her house was at two thirty that afternoon. Their flight back to LA was at eleven. Savannah handed over her son and headed to the bedroom to get ready. She didn’t linger over her morning routine and had her bag packed in short order. By the time she emerged, a waiter was pushing a room service cart toward the large window that overlooked the Strip. Savannah signed for the breakfast, and the man headed for the door. When he opened it to leave, Trent was standing in the hall outside her suite.

“Good morning,” he said, not waiting for an invitation to enter the room.

Trent’s abrupt appearance threw her for a loop. She’d considered he might call. But never in her wildest dreams did she think he might actually show up in person this morning. Dressed in an impeccable navy superfine wool suit with a crisp white shirt and cobalt tie, Trent looked ready to do business.

Savannah shot a quick glance toward her son. He sat on the floor surrounded by books and toys, happily gnawing on a plastic key ring. Lori had seated herself at the dining room table and was removing the metal domes from the plates of food. She seemed uninterested in Savannah’s visitor.

In the dark hours of late-night Vegas, reconnecting with her ex-lover had been relatively uncomplicated. In the cold light of day, with her son—Trent’s son—less than ten feet away, she was feeling overwhelmed by her past mistakes and future missteps.

“What are you doing here?”

“You aren’t really planning on moving to Tennessee, are you?”

After her troubled sleep and her dream about living in Siggy’s house, Savannah was feeling less confident than she had been the night before. Despite what she’d told Trent, the truth was she had no place to go once she signed the papers on her house. She’d been so convinced she could get Trent to help her she hadn’t focused at all on what would happen if she failed.

“I...” Her chest grew exceedingly tight. She couldn’t get any words out.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” The word had very little conviction behind it. Where was Courtney now? Savannah had lost her connection to her confident alter ego.

“Where are you planning to go, then?”

Misery engulfed her. “I don’t have a plan.” He’d never know what it cost her to admit that. Too many times he’d viewed her as helpless. “My only option was for you to help me with the company.”

“But that doesn’t help you with your immediate problem of where to go once you close on your house.”

She knew he was right.

“I called Melody last night,” Trent continued. “She’s in Australia at the moment, and with the time difference it was afternoon. She told me Siggy wants you to move in with him. You’re not planning on doing that, are you?”

Not if she could help it. Even as a temporary measure, becoming beholden to her father-in-law was a bad idea. Savannah exhaled in frustration but didn’t respond to Trent’s question. She couldn’t blame Melody for telling Trent what was going on. Melody was just as upset as Savannah about the situation. Trent’s sister had worked hard and suffered much to get out from beneath her father’s weighty expectations.

“It’s a bad idea.”

“It’s not what I want to do.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared past his shoulder. “I’d prefer to move to Tennessee and buy a small house there.”

But was it really the place for her and Dylan? Savannah had latched on to Gatlinburg because her grandmother’s house had been in a town twenty miles away, and she’d built it up in her mind as a great place to raise Dylan.

As if aware of her thoughts, Dylan gave a happy gurgle and stood. Trent’s attention swiveled toward the toddler as Dylan began his ungainly waddle toward them.

“He’s walking already?” Trent regarded the boy impassively. “I didn’t think he was quite a year.”

Savannah’s pride shone through as she answered, “He’s a little ahead of the curve.” Seeing his mother’s smile, Dylan came at her in a rush. With her heart thumping painfully hard, Savannah scooped him off the floor and settled him on her hip. He wrapped his hand around her three-tiered strand of pearls that complemented today’s collared black sweater dress with three-quarter-length cuffed sleeves.

“Dylan, right?” Trent was inspecting the boy through narrowed eyes.

“Yes.”

Father and son stared at each other while Savannah waited for what would happen next. She’d been dreading this encounter since the day her son had been born. Part of her hoped to see recognition in Trent’s eyes. She wanted him to claim Dylan. Then she could stop feeling guilty for denying her son his father.

“You can’t do this to him.”

Savannah wasn’t sure what she’d expected Trent to say, but that wasn’t it. “Can’t do what to him?”

“Let my father get his hands on him.”

“You make it sound so ominous.” She’d become an expert at appearing more confident than she was. “What can Siggy do?”

“He could ruin his childhood the way he did Rafe’s and mine.”

* * *

From the expression on Savannah’s face, she’d already considered this, and Trent’s irritation grew. How could she even consider putting her son into such a toxic environment even for a few weeks? And then he realized her finances had to be in rough shape. What hadn’t she told him?

“All right,” he said, “let’s stop dancing around.”

Her eyes went round with apprehension. “What are you talking about?”

“I want to know exactly what’s going on with you.”

Savannah turned away and carried her son back to his toys. She then took her time pouring a cup of coffee and offering it to him. Trent shook his head.

“Dylan and I are returning to LA on an eleven o’clock flight. I have a closing on my house this afternoon. There’s nothing else to tell.”

Trent glanced around at the young woman working her way through a thick Belgian waffle and understood that Savannah would prefer not to air her business in front of the young woman.

“I was planning on heading to LA on business tomorrow. There’s no reason why I couldn’t go a day earlier. Perhaps you and I could celebrate after you close on your house and then tomorrow morning you could give me a tour of the company.”