Secret Heiress, Secret Baby

She had no illusions about the permanence of their affection, but for tonight, they had her back. Before all of Houston society, they’d rallied around her.

In this moment, it truly seemed as if all of Houston society was there and watching. Laney stepped forward and pulled her into a hug at the same moment that Dalton greeted Portia, hugging the woman who was his ex-wife and current sister-in-law with genuine affection, before turning to Meg and hugging her as well.

For the first time in her life, she felt as if she truly had a brother.

And that’s when it happened.

That’s when Grant Sheppard walked into the room.

Three

Grant Sheppard hated this stuff. Obviously, he wanted children to have hope. He just didn’t see why a bunch of rich bastards needed to spend fifty thousand dollars to throw a party that would ultimate raise only seventy-five thousand dollars. It didn’t make financial sense, and was a damn annoying way to spend an evening.

Besides that, the Children’s Hope Foundation annual gala was inevitably overrun by Cains. Which was both one more thing to hate and the only reason he actually bothered to come. There were plenty of stupid charity events he avoided altogether. He came to this one because he didn’t want anyone imagining they scared him away.

Though generally he did avoid them. Ostensibly because of the decades-old rivalry between the two families. But he had a more personal reason: he couldn’t ever see one of the Cains without thinking of Meg. Sweet Meg. The only woman he’d ever even come close to loving.

Meg, who tasted like sugar and smelled like spices and who—for one brief moment—had held his heart in her hands. Meg, who most likely hated him for running out on her in the middle of the night. And who would hate him even more if she knew the truth...

No, he didn’t let himself think about Meg very often. Loving Meg was just one more reason to hate the Cains, even though she was one of them.

The rivalry between the Cains and the Sheppards had been going on for nearly twenty years, ever since Hollister had edged Russell Sheppard out of the business their fathers had started. There were some things a man never recovered from. Being screwed over by your best friend, your business partner, your mentor...that was one of them. And Grant’s father had never recovered. Oh, he’d stumbled along for another decade, but he’d never been the same.

For all intents and purposes, Hollister Cain had destroyed Russell Sheppard. And Grant had vowed to do the same to Hollister and all of his family in return. After years of carefully orchestrated moves, Grant was so close to bringing down Cain Enterprises, he could almost taste it.

Which of course was one more reason he’d come here tonight. Five of the seven board members should be here. All men and women he knew socially and professionally. Soon he would make his move against Cain Enterprises and when he did, he’d need them on his side.

He moved deeper into the room, heading straight for the bar. He didn’t drink much, typically. His father’s alcoholism had been pretty unappealing to watch. Still, having a drink in his hand gave him something to do while he navigated this shark tank.

The bartender had just handed him his Patron, when a stunning brunette sidled up to him.

“Becca.” He smiled and nodded to greet her.

“Grant,” she murmured as she rose on her toes to brush a discreet kiss across his cheek and briefly press her body to his. “How are you?”

“Same as always,” he said gently.

They had dated briefly a few years ago, before she realized he wasn’t interested in marriage. Now she was married to a sixty-three-year-old oil magnate. One of Cain Enterprises’ board members, as a matter of fact. Which worked nicely in Grant’s favor, since he got along well with the man.

“I have gossip for you,” she said.

“You know I’m not interested in gossip.”

“This is about the Cains. And even though you’ll hear it soon enough, I desperately want to be the first one to share it with you.” She jutted out her lip. “Please.”

Grant glanced across the room and saw Becca’s husband deep in conversation with one of Houston’s congressmen. He turned his attention back to Becca. “You look like you need a drink.”

She smiled, clearly delighted that she’d snagged his attention as he headed off to the bar. Five minutes later, he returned with a glass of pinot grigio. Becca actually preferred tequila but never drank it in public. At least, not at this kind of event. Like him, Becca had grown up on the fringes of Houston society. Just rich enough to be included but not rich enough to be an equal. Both of their families had once been old money, but had fallen on hard times. They’d stayed in the social loop, but at the bottom of the pecking order. In so many ways, Becca was his equal. He’d clawed his way back to wealth with ruthless business practices. She’d done it with an advantageous marriage. Neither was particularly proud of their means or motives, but they understood one another. Years ago, he’d thought he and Becca would have been a match made in heaven if they hadn’t both been too ambitious to settle for someone as low on the social pecking order as they themselves were. Though, obviously, neither of them was pining away for the other. They were both doing just fine on their own. Which was another reason Becca was perfect for him. There was a lot to be said for a woman he could walk away from without missing.

She took a sip of her drink and smiled blandly. “Thank you.”

“And now your news?”

“Do you remember the rumors I told you a few years ago about Hollister losing his marbles when he found out he had a daughter?”

“Of course. He threatened to disinherit all three of his sons unless one of them found her and brought her back to the family.”

“Exactly.” Becca tapped her hand against his arm, her eyes lighting up with delight. “Which was great news for you. The rumors have gone a long way to destabilizing Cain Enterprises. It doesn’t help that Dalton resigned as president and Griffin had to take over.”

“Though Griffin has been more competent as president than anyone could have predicted,” Grant admitted begrudgingly.

“The point is, Hollister is unstable and losing touch with reality.”

“Which I’ve known for years.”

“But that may change, and soon.” She leaned forward and whispered. “If you’re going to make your move against Cain Enterprises, you need to do it now.”

“Why?” The longer rumors circulated about Hollister’s poor health and poorer business decisions, the better it would be for Grant.

“Because they found the missing Cain heiress.”

For an instant, his heart froze in his chest. Then it started thudding again, slowly. “No. They didn’t.”

He was sure they hadn’t found her. There was no way they could have found her without his hearing about it first.

Those rumors about Hollister having a daughter had spurred his own search for her. Because he had access to his own father’s business and personal records from about the time the heiress would have been born, Grant had managed to track Meg down early in the game. He may have initially planned to use her against the Cains, but all that had changed when he’d started to fall for her.

Even though he’d walked away, he felt... proprietary. He’d kept an eye on her. After all, Sheppard Bank and Trust had two locations in Victoria, one of them right across the square from her pie shop. Both the bank manager and the security guards had been told to keep an eye out for anyone from the Cain family—ostensibly because of fears about corporate espionage. Surely he would have heard if the Cain family had been within a hundred yards of Meg and her little pie shop.

He knew the Cains and he knew Meg. Was it really so bad that he wanted to protect her from them?

“Yes, they did.” Becca grinned, her gaze lit with malicious glee. “In fact, she’s here tonight.” Becca nodded in the direction of the dance floor. “Right over there. She was dancing with Dalton the last time I saw her. See for yourself.”

“She’s here tonight?”

“The whole family is here for her introduction to society.” Becca flicked her hair over her shoulder, feigning disinterest. “A little premature, I think. Apparently they just found her this week. And I’d swear that dress she has on is one Portia wore two years ago.”

Becca kept talking, but Grant stopped listening. Instead, he gazed over the heads of the crowd, trying to get a look at the woman Becca was talking about.

It wasn’t Meg. He knew that much. It just couldn’t be.

But—it occurred to him for the first time since he’d left Victoria over two years ago—there might be another heiress somewhere. It was entirely possible that Hollister had fathered more than one bastard daughter he didn’t know about. It was possible the Cains had found some other girl who was still Hollister’s.

They weren’t stupid enough to try to pass off some random woman as his daughter. Not when genetic testing was affordable and the results could be had practically overnight. But there might actually be more than one daughter.

He took a long sip of his tequila and considered. For the past two years, he’d played the long game. He’d planned on the Cains being so involved in this search that he could quietly buy up stock and wait for the company to be rocky enough that he could step in and simply take over. If Hollister died first and disinherited his sons, so much the better.

It had not played out as he’d planned. Hollister was too stubborn to die and Griffin too competent to run Cain Enterprises into the ground.

Still, Grant now owned a healthy chunk of the company. He’d swayed at least three of the seven board members to his side. He almost had it.

And now this.

Some mystery woman messing up his plans.

He excused himself from Becca and started making his way across the room, determined to see just who the Cains had dug up, consoling himself with this one thought: whoever she was, at least their machinations wouldn’t hurt Meg.

No matter what happened, no matter how this went down—no matter how he took down Cain Enterprises—at least Meg wouldn’t be caught in the cross fire.

Then the crowd parted and he could see the dance floor. He spotted Dalton moving across the floor with a tiny woman in his arms. Her hair, swept up into an elaborate topknot, was dyed a shade of auburn just a little too brassy to be natural. It had one streak of black running through it.

Then Dalton twirled the woman around and Grant got a look at her face.

Shit.

They’d found his Meg.

* * *

Meg was stuck at this interminable party for at least another hour. That’s what Portia had told her when Meg demanded to know how much longer she had to stand around like some sort of trophy waiting to be handed off to the winner.

“At ten o’clock the silent auction ends and the live auction begins. That will wrap up by eleven and then there’s another two hours of music. You can slip out maybe by 10:10 or so, if Griffin and Sydney are ready to go.”

She had begged. They would be ready. But first she had to get through the next hour without catching Grant’s eye. She didn’t know how exactly she was supposed to do that, when the Cains had orchestrated this entire evening so that everyone in the room would be talking about her.

And no matter where she stood or whom she talked to, she couldn’t shut off her awareness that Grant was in the same room. She tried not to look for him, but every time she glanced around the room, there he was. With a series of women, each more beautiful than the next, it seemed. She kept an eye out for lovely blonde mother of his child but didn’t see that woman anywhere. Maybe he’d come without her. Which seemed like a real asshole move. Right up his alley then.

There was one woman in particular with whom he spent the most time talking. She had long brown hair and the body of a model.

When Meg couldn’t take another moment of talking to strangers, she practically begged Dalton to dance with her.

“Dalton? Dance?” Griffin had scoffed. “If you want to dance, I’ll dance with you.”

Before she could shoot a pleading look at Dalton, he held out his hand. “No. I’ll do it.”

A moment later, they were dancing to some staid waltz she didn’t recognize. She breathed deeply, letting go of some of the tension in her shoulders.

After a moment, Dalton asked, “Why didn’t you want to dance with Griffin? He is the better dancer.”

“He would have wanted to talk,” she admitted.

“I take it you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

Dalton nodded briefly and then said nothing for a while, either because he knew she wanted silence or because he did, she couldn’t quite tell. Either way, she was grateful for it. And for the illusion of invisibility that dancing with him gave her. All three of her brothers were tall; surely no one could see her at all when she was hiding behind Dalton.

But then, after what felt like only a few minutes, someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”

At the sound of the man’s voice, everything inside her shuddered to a halt. For an instant, she let her eyes drift closed, pretending that she really could disappear. Even when she opened them, she couldn’t force herself to look at him.

Dalton guided her just to the edge of the dance floor. “Actually, I do mind,” he said to Grant. But he’d stopped dancing and had turned to face the interloper.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Grant said smoothly, ignoring Dalton’s rudeness. “You’ve found your missing sister.”

Finally, she made herself meet his gaze. And he was looking directly at her, despite the pretense he made of talking to Dalton. But there was no recognition in his eyes. No surprise or question. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he didn’t recognize her. But there was no way in hell that could be true.

“We have,” Dalton said. He increased the pressure at her back. “Meg Lathem, this is Grant Sheppard, CEO of Sheppard Bank and Trust.”

“Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand to shake hers.

Anger kindled inside her at the sight of his hand extended like that. As if they didn’t know one another at all. As if he hadn’t spent countless nights in her bed. As if he hadn’t been deep inside her.

She forced herself to hold out her own hand, braced herself for the impact of feeling his skin against hers for the first time in years.

Much like his tone, his touch was cold and impersonal. “Welcome to Houston.”

Dalton, supportive and kind, still had his hand at her back. She smiled brightly. “Thanks, but this isn’t my first time here.”

His familiar lips twisted in something that was maybe supposed to be a smile. “The band is starting another song. Do you want to dance?”

She was tempted to refuse, but there were so many people watching and she couldn’t help thinking this was a test somehow. She would never fit in this world. The world of the Cains and the Sheppards. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that.

But for Pearl’s sake she needed to at least convince them that she was a Cain.

No Cain had ever been intimidated by anyone or anything. Certainly not a Sheppard.

“You don’t have to,” Dalton said softly.

“No.” She smiled brightly. “I’d love to.”

She pushed aside her doubts and fears. She pushed aside all her concerns about Pearl and what she might be doing right now. She even pushed aside the memory from a few days ago of Grant standing outside the Sheppard building with his hand on the waist of the beautiful blonde woman. And the one from just a few moments ago of him standing beside the bar with the brunette.

The man was a hound dog.

She was lucky to have him out of her life and as far away from Pearl as possible. And for the first time in years, she felt relief—genuine relief—that he’d left her in her middle of night and broken her heart. Without hesitation, she stepped into his arms and he whirled her out onto the dance floor. And as long she remembered what a hound dog he was, she wouldn’t have to think about how good his arms felt.

“So, Mr. Sheppard, do you enjoy your work in banking?” she asked blandly to keep her hormones distracted.

He stared at her for a second, before increasing the pressure of the hand at her back, pulling her ever so slightly closer. “Is that how we’re going to play this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re going to pretend you don’t even know me?”

She pulled away, not out of his arms entirely, but enough to put a little more distance between them. “I don’t even know you.”

“Meg,” he murmured, dropping his voice to barely a whisper.

“Don’t,” she said fiercely. “Don’t act like you have the right to say my name in that way.”

“What way?”

“That sexy, intimate way,” she said. His lips curved in a hint of a smile—as if he’d taken it as a compliment—and she had the urge to slap him. She didn’t think she’d ever slapped anyone, but she wanted to slap him because he looked so damn confident. As if her words had told him exactly how strongly she still responded to him. As if he knew exactly what was going on in her head, when the truth was, she hardly knew, herself. “Don’t act like you know me. You don’t.”

“I—”

“I am a completely different person than I was then.” She laughed as the irony of her words hit her. “Of course, you’re not exactly the guy I thought I was falling in love with either. But then again, you never were, were you?”

Something dark and pained flashed through his eyes, giving her the feeling that he had a lot he wanted to say. “It’s not in either of our best interests to talk about this here.”

“Why? Because your girlfriend might see us or because your wife might hear about it later?”

“My wife? What’s that supposed to mean?” But then he shook his head, as though he didn’t really want her to answer.

Not that she particularly wanted to talk about it, either. Bringing up the girlfriend and the wife was a huge mistake. It made her seem as if she was still nursing her affection for him. And it potentially revealed that she’d basically been stalking him last week.

Thankfully, the song was coming to an end. In the lull between songs, she stepped away from him abruptly, forcing him to drop his arms. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Grant. It’s been particularly illuminating.”

“Wait,” he said, reaching out to grasp her arm. “We can’t talk here, but we do need to talk. Can I take you to brunch tomorrow? Dinner? Something.”

“You’re asking me on a date?” Hysterical laughter nearly bubbled up inside her and it was all she could do to control it.

“No,” he said seriously, not sensing how close she was to losing it. “Not a date. A conversation.”

“No. I’m not getting brunch with you. Or dinner. I wouldn’t so much as share a handful of breath mints with you.”

He pulled his hand back, tucking it in his pocket, but he didn’t turn away from her. He just stood there, looking oddly forlorn on the edge of the dance floor. “There are things we need to talk about.”

Aware that they were attracting attention, she stepped just a little closer so no one would overhear her. “You are a lying, cheating bastard. I have nothing to say to you. And there’s nothing you could say to me that I would want to hear.”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer. She knew all too well how charming he could be when he set his mind to it.

But as she walked back across the ballroom to the spot where her family congregated, she wondered if she’d been lying to herself as well as to him.

There were so many things she should be telling him. When she’d first made the decision not to tell him about the baby, it had seemed so logical. So cut-and-dried. Now? Now she wasn’t so sure.

Worse still, part of her did want to know what he had to say. Part of her would never stop wondering why he’d left.

Four

Cursing under his breath, Grant watched Meg walk away.

What the hell was she doing here?

What. The. Hell.

He had done everything in his power to keep the Cains from finding her. The information from his father that he’d used to find her—he’d buried that deep. He’d made sure no one, not even his stepmother, could find it. Plus, he’d made sure that if the Cains ever did find her, he’d know about it within a matter of hours. She was not supposed to turn up with the Cains at a major social event and catch him by surprise. That was not how this was supposed to go down.

So what the hell had gone wrong?

Becca slithered up next to him, put her hand and head on his shoulder and watched Meg walk away. Then she glanced up at him from under her lashes. “I get the impression that didn’t go the way you wanted it to.”

“Intuitive, as always,” he said dryly.

She gave his shoulder a sympathetic rub. “I guess Hollister’s millions of shares of Cain Enterprises stock are going to stay in the Cain family after all.”

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