The Black Sheep's Secret Child

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.

Disgusted, Trent pulled a bottle from the fridge and surveyed the label. “Champagne?” When she shook her head, he arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t we celebrating?”

Her frown asked, Celebrating what? “You know I don’t drink.”

“Oh,” he drawled. “I thought perhaps after being married to my brother, you might have started.”

Savannah made a face at him but didn’t rise to the bait. “I’ll take some sparkling water if you have it.”

Amused, Trent dropped ice into a glass and poured her a drink. Fixing a lime to the rim, he pushed the glass across the bar toward her. As much as he could use a scotch to settle his nerves, he refrained. Dealing with Savannah was complicated enough without a fuzzy head.

A familiar mixture of fondness and rage filled him as he watched her sip the drink.

From the moment the naive eleven-year-old with the big blue eyes had moved into the servants’ quarters of his family’s Beverly Hills home, he’d been drawn to her. Unlike his twelve-year-old sister, she’d exhibited none of the gawkiness of preteen girls. And her lack of street smarts had driven Trent crazy.

As a kid he’d slipped into rebellious and resentful mode pretty early. Being a troublemaker came easy. He wasn’t anyone’s hero. But he’d come to Savannah’s rescue more times than he could count. She’d been a magnet for anyone eager to take advantage of a young girl from some backwoods town in Tennessee. To look at her you’d think she would turn to smoke if you touched her, but in fact there was supple muscle beneath her soft skin, something he’d discovered firsthand when he’d taught her a couple self-defense moves.

In some ways, she was still the same ragamuffin who’d needed protection from the mean girls in school and the boys who thought to take advantage of her naïveté. But being on her own in New York had given her a new set of skills. For one, she’d learned how to go after something she wanted. And for a while it was pretty apparent that what she’d wanted was him.

Which was why it had come as such a surprise that she’d chosen to marry his brother. Despite the years she’d spent in LA and New York, she remained a small-town girl at heart. She had no lofty dreams of fame and fortune. She’d never known stability growing up, so as an adult, Savannah craved marriage and children, a secure, safe life.

Her vision of a traditional family situation was completely foreign to Trent. His father was an ambitious tyrant who’d married late. His misogynistic behavior had driven his wife away not long after Melody was born. The prenup their mother had signed granted her nothing if she fought for custody of her children. Trent had never been surprised that she’d chosen the money.

Was it any wonder he had so little interest in marriage and family? But knowing how important it was to Savannah should’ve warned him to keep his distance. He might have, but she was irresistible to him.

No matter how many times he’d cautioned himself to stay away, he couldn’t stop coming to her rescue. Only once had he abandoned her to trouble—the day she’d declared her intention to marry Rafe.

“Widowhood becomes you,” he said. If he’d hoped to shock her, he failed.

Reproachful blue eyes fixed on him. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Perhaps, but it doesn’t stop it from being true.”

Young Savannah had possessed a guilelessness that left her open for the world to read. And take advantage of. He’d expected her to be eaten alive in the cutthroat world of modeling and acting in New York City, but she’d figured out a way to survive. When he’d visited Melody during her junior year at Juilliard, he’d been checking in on Savannah, as well. At first he’d been surprised. The naive girl wasn’t gone, but she’d become a little wiser. She’d also gained an air of mystery. He’d been intrigued.

He still was.

“Perhaps you should tell me why you’re here, dear sister-in-law.”

Her lips formed a moue of distaste at the specific emphasis he put on the last three words. Trent took no pleasure in highlighting the chasm between them, but it needed to be done.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Trent had been dodging her for a week, assuming something of this sort. For sixteen months he’d been waiting for her to admit that marrying his brother had been a mistake. It irritated him that she hadn’t. And now she wanted something from him.

“I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even heard me out.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

Her facial muscles tightened, lending her expression a determined look he’d never seen before. She’d always seemed untouched by demons that drove most people, unfazed by success or obstacles. What had changed? Marriage to his brother? Motherhood?

These were questions best left alone. Trent didn’t need to venture down the rabbit hole of turbulent emotions conjured whenever he spent time with Savannah. Better to speed her on her way back to LA and be done with temptation.

“Maybe we don’t have anything to talk about, but I have a great deal to say.”

“Why don’t you make an appointment with my office for some time next week.” He knew he was taunting her but couldn’t help himself. She’d become another in a long list of people who brought out his bad side.

“I’ve already been here five days and you’ve been avoiding me. I’m closing on the sale of my house tomorrow afternoon, so Dylan and I are leaving in the morning. I had hoped to have everything settled before we returned to LA.”

Against his better judgment—because he was playing directly into her hands—Trent asked, “What exactly did you intend to have settled?”

“When Rafe died, he left his shares of West Coast Records to Dylan. That means until Dylan’s eighteenth birthday, I’m in charge of the business.” She shook her head. “I need help.”

Now Trent was starting to see where she was going. “You’ve got Gerry.” Gerry Brueger had been Siggy’s second in command for twenty years. Passed over for president when Siggy stepped down and installed Rafe as the head of the company, Gerry would jump at the chance to take over.

“It’s not that simple. I need a CEO I can trust. Someone who gets the business and can turn things around.”

“So hire someone.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” She cocked her head and scowled at him.

“Me?” This was not at all what he’d expected. Trent shook his head. “Not interested.”

“It’s your family’s company.”

“It’s my father’s company.” And his brother’s. They’d never wanted him to be a part of it. “Besides, my father isn’t going to welcome my interference.” He noticed that her gaze shifted away. “Have you talked to Siggy about this?”

“It’s my decision.” But she sounded less confident than she’d been moments earlier.

“So you haven’t mentioned any of this to Siggy?”

“He sold a majority of his shares in the business to Rafe. Dylan inherited them. Siggy isn’t in control of the company anymore.”

Her naïveté was showing. She might think she was in charge, but she was in for a huge battle if she thought she could bring Trent into the record company. He almost felt sorry for her.

“Sell the company back to Siggy and wash your hands of it.”

“It’s not that cut-and-dried.” She set her untouched glass of water on a nearby table and squared her shoulders. “He won’t buy back Rafe’s shares, but I know he’s planning to control things behind the scenes. Siggy intends for Dylan to run the company someday.” Savannah paused and compressed her lips into a thin line. With a sigh, she continued, “In the meantime, I can’t run it and I don’t trust your father to be able to turn things around.”

“Turn things around?” Trent had heard rumblings that West Coast Records was having financial problems. No surprise there—Siggy Caldwell’s approach to the music industry was uninspired and his eldest son had been a chip off the old block. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not exactly sure, because I’ve been getting the runaround from Gerry, but I think they’re behind on paying royalties to their artists.”

“When did this start?”

“I don’t know. Shortly after we were married, Rafe confided to me that the company was struggling financially before your father retired.” That had occurred three years earlier. “And after the cancer started eating away at Rafe, he wasn’t making the best decisions. I’m sure things got much worse then.”

Trent ignored the compulsion that demanded he step in and fix everything. “While this is all fascinating, what does any of it have to do with me?”

“The company needs you.” Her big blue eyes went soft and concerned in the way that always kicked him hard in the solar plexus.

Trent’s first impulse was to laugh. He never got the chance. Questions crowded in. He didn’t give a damn about the company. But did she need him? Trent crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her through half-closed eyes. She was beautiful. Poised. But not happy. He should’ve felt triumphant. Instead there was a dull ache in his gut.

“You know, better than most, that isn’t going to sway me. Try again.”

She gazed at the blank walls that made up his office. If she was looking for some clue about how to appeal to him, she wouldn’t find it there. He was a man who didn’t give a damn about anything. Or that’s the face he showed the world. It made it much harder for someone to hurt him if he showed no vulnerability.

“Prove to your father you’re a better businessman than he is.”

He should be gloating. Trent—not his father or brother—would be the one to save the struggling West Coast Records, but his only emotion was bitterness.

“He would never believe that.” The great Siggy Caldwell never owned up to his mistakes. He sure as hell wouldn’t admit that his pitiful excuse for a second son was a better anything. “If that’s the best you have, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

She let the silence fill the space between them for a beat before speaking. “I need your help.”

He resisted the urge to sweep her into his arms and pledge his support. She was staring at him in desperate hope, as if he was her knight in shining armor. That was the farthest thing from reality. Sure, maybe he’d helped her out a time or two in the past, but she wasn’t his responsibility anymore. The time for rescuing her had ended sixteen months earlier when she’d promised to love, honor and cherish his brother.

“And just like that, you expect me to drop everything and rush to your aid?” It cost him, but he gave his words a sardonic twist and hardened his heart. “It’s not going to happen.”

Two

Despite all the times he’d rescued her in the past, Savannah knew she shouldn’t have counted on Trent helping her. She’d committed the ultimate sin. She’d married his brother.

And now she was stuck in an untenable position. Her one-year-old son had inherited stock she couldn’t sell to a third party without her father-in-law’s permission. This meant as an asset it held no value for her. And because of the way the record label was hemorrhaging money, the stock would be worthless in no time.

Begging to be rescued was too humiliating and probably wouldn’t work anyway. Negotiating was a much more palatable option. Once again, she channeled Courtney Day. Relaxing her shoulders, she spoke in her alter ego’s confident tone.

“What can I say or do to change your mind?”

“I don’t know.” Something flickered in Trent’s eyes. “What are you offering?”

“I have nothing to bargain with.”

Cards on the table, she maintained her poker face while his gaze raked over her. Heat rose to her skin. It wasn’t humiliation she felt, but desire. If confronted, he would deny that he wanted her, but the flare of his nostrils and the way his pupils dilated hinted that the chemistry between them hadn’t faded.

“You have something.”

Savannah shook her head, unsure if what she was picking up off him was real or wishful thinking. “Rafe burned through all our cash chasing alternative medical treatments that didn’t work,” she said. “After he died, I had to sell the house to pay off his debts.”

And she’d come up short by a million. She’d counted on selling Rafe’s shares back to Siggy for enough money to clear the debt and maybe have a little bit to start over somewhere new.

But Siggy didn’t want his shares back. He wanted Rafe’s son.

“The only thing of value left is Dylan’s shares in the company,” she continued. “But I can’t touch that.”

“I don’t want money,” Trent said.

No, of course not. He could buy West Coast Records three times over. “What do you want?”

That she was putting herself in his hands occurred to her the instant the words were past her lips. But what else could she do? Siggy was willing to clear her debt but insisted she and Dylan move in with him. Her father-in-law’s opinion of her was low. He hadn’t approved of his son marrying her and he’d let her know that on several occasions. The thought of living in that toxic environment made her panic.

“Why did you marry my brother?”

The question came out of nowhere, and for several seconds Savannah didn’t know what to say. Discussing her marriage with Trent was fraught with too many complications. Trent would never understand or approve of what she’d done, because he couldn’t understand how her circumstances had left her feeling vulnerable and alone.

“You knew what I wanted. What was the most important thing to me.”

Something Trent was never going to give her—a family. They stared at each other while her unspoken answer hung between them. Speaking of her longing would open up old wounds and she couldn’t bear that.

I can’t give you what you want.

Her heart had shattered when he’d uttered those words two years earlier.

At last she sighed. “I wanted to be married. To have children.”

“I don’t understand why you chose Rafe. Was it because you were pregnant?”

Savannah noticed he didn’t ask her if she’d loved his brother. Why bother when the math was obvious? Dylan had been born six months after Savannah and Rafe had promised to love, honor and cherish each other until death.

“That played into it.” She’d been devastated that the man she loved couldn’t give her what she wanted and terrified of raising a child on her own.

Why had she chosen Rafe? Because he’d wanted her.

“Rafe was excited about being a father. Family was important to him.”

More important than she’d initially understood. And he’d been very persuasive. At the time she’d believed she could trust him. She wouldn’t have married him if he’d been like Trent. But he’d never once made her doubt his desire to be a father, and he’d been over-the-moon excited that she was carrying a boy.

“Rafe and Siggy were exactly alike,” Trent scoffed. “People mean no more to them than as a means to an end.”

It was humiliating to know just how right Trent was about that. She’d thought Rafe was her friend. Growing up he’d been the nice one, always upbeat and well mannered. He’d never hurt Savannah’s feelings when she’d tried to cheer him out of a bad mood. He’d been the one to lift her spirits.

From when they were kids, he’d known how she felt about his brother. A couple times he’d come upon her crying in the midst of teenage angst over Trent. And he’d made her feel less unwanted.

Rafe had been the one who’d encouraged her to take the modeling job in New York. And after she quit the soap opera and returned to LA, he’d been the one who’d helped her find a rental.

She’d never questioned why Rafe was so accepting about the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy. Nor had her suspicions been aroused by the fact that he’d been the one who’d handed her a box of condoms and sent her to Las Vegas to visit Trent and get him out of her system once and for all.

It wasn’t until after Dylan was born, when Rafe collapsed and she discovered the illness he’d been hiding, that she’d learned how he’d tricked her. That he’d sabotaged the box of condoms. Gambled that she would get pregnant.

He’d bought into his father’s notions of a dynasty. Wanted a son, but his cancer treatments had left him impotent and sterile. So he’d taken a chance and tricked her into getting pregnant by his brother.

At first she’d been shocked and appalled at being manipulated by someone she trusted. But in the end she couldn’t hate a man who’d made such poor decisions with a death sentence hanging over his head.

“That last time we were together,” Trent began, his voice pitched low. “Were you and Rafe already involved?”

Savannah came out of her musing to find Trent standing within arm’s reach. Closer than she’d expected. He stood with his head cocked, his manner watchful, as if waiting for a sign from her. Suddenly she was having trouble catching her breath.

He hadn’t touched her. He showed no inclination that he wanted to. So why was she suddenly craving his kiss?

“Does it matter?” She should back away. Put the width of the room between them. A table. A chair. Better yet, a door. Several corridors. A couple dozen floors.

“Not to me.” His tone was light but his gaze was intense. “But my brother might have appreciated knowing you were cheating on him with me.”

“I wasn’t cheating on him. With you or anyone else.”

In her rush to vindicate herself in his eyes, she neglected to remember that little matter of math. Would Trent realize that nine months after they had been together in Las Vegas, she’d given birth to Dylan? The thought terrified her. What if he wouldn’t help her after discovering she’d kept the truth about his son from him? It was a practical concern, but not her bigger fear.

It hadn’t taken a lot for Rafe to convince her that once Trent learned the truth that he would still reject her and his son.

Which is why she hadn’t told him about Dylan when she’d discovered she was pregnant. Was it cowardly of her to hide the truth because she was assuming the worst outcome? Of course, but nothing Trent had ever said to her gave her reason to hope that he’d miraculously alter his way of thinking because he was going to be a father.

“I don’t want to talk about my marriage.”

“Then we’ve run out of things to say to each other.” Trent gestured toward his office door.

“That isn’t necessarily true,” she countered, snatching at something to keep the conversation rolling. If she kept him talking, he wouldn’t be able to throw her out of his office and maybe she could get the topic back around to the record label.

“What else did you have in mind?”

“You could ask me about Murphy.”

He’d gotten her the French bulldog as a Christmas present three years ago. At the time she’d thought he’d bought the cream-colored snore monster because he was starting to get ideas of taking their relationship to the next level. She’d been in heaven.

Having Trent all to herself for those two weeks had been magical. They’d snuggled on the couch and opened presents at midnight on Christmas Eve. The week leading up to New Year’s, they’d walked the puppy, browsed through Chinatown and the East Village, taken in a couple Broadway shows. They’d rung in the New Year with a bottle of champagne and the most perfect lovemaking of Savannah’s life.

Then, six weeks later, he’d canceled on her last minute, and she’d spent Valentine’s Day crying into Murphy’s soft puppy coat. She’d realized that the long-distance thing wasn’t working for her and she’d decided to quit the soap opera and move back to LA.

“How is he?”

“Wonderful. He’s devoted to Dylan. Follows him everywhere. Curls up with him at nap time.”

“How did Rafe enjoy sharing his bed with the dog?”

Questions like these were a minefield. How did she answer? She couldn’t reveal that she’d entered into a loveless marriage and had never shared a bed with her husband.

“He didn’t.” Which was at least true.

“I’m not surprised. Rafe was never an animal person.”

Unlike Trent, who’d fostered several rescues over the years. He liked helping out—something he’d deny—but the temporary nature of providing a home for dogs who after a couple months moved on to permanent situations demonstrated his unwillingness to commit and his distaste for being tied down.

She’d been so hurt by his refusal to move their relationship forward, even though she’d known that’s how he was when she’d gotten involved with him. She kept hoping that he’d change. That she’d be the one he’d fall in love with and would be unable to live without.

Instead, in her sorrow and loss, she’d let his brother manipulate her. In her heart she’d known Trent was a better man than his brother, and a small part of her had expected him to save her one more time.

Only he hadn’t. And she couldn’t blame him for leaving her to rot.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“For what?”

“It was wrong of me to get involved with Rafe.”

“I’ve been waiting a year and a half for you to admit that.”

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 wondrous. 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. This had nowhere to go. 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?

All these thoughts flashed through her head in the instant before Trent’s hand slid over her butt and pulled her pelvis into snug contact with his arousal. She fisted her hands in his hair and tugged to bring his mouth to hers. She wanted him, needed this—why deny it? Later she could chastise herself for this rash act.

Trent captured her mouth in a hot, sizzling kiss. The ache between her thighs pulsed with more urgency as his tongue plunged past her teeth. She met the thrust with ardent fervor. A growl vibrated in her throat. That they could be discovered at any second should have bothered her. On the other hand, maybe Trent had entertained enough women in here to make his staff wary of interrupting their boss.

That thought too should have disturbed her. But Savannah was beyond logic and reason.

She drew him toward the couch and pushed him onto it. He bounced a little as the cushions gave beneath him. With a sassy grin, she hiked up her skirt and climbed onto his lap. Settling her hot center against his erection caused them both to shudder. She wasn’t sure when the Courtney Day persona had fallen away. What she was doing now was pure Savannah.

Breath ragged, palms gliding up her thigh, he regarded her. His guards were up. He’d tightened his lips into an unyielding line and a sharp line appeared between his strong, dark brows. Questions gathered in his eyes. Savannah rocked her hips in a sultry move that caused him to exhale sharply in a low curse.