The Black Sheep's Secret Child

“You know, your party lifestyle. The clubs, the celebrities you hang with. All that can be pretty intimidating for a girl with small-town roots, raised in the servants’ quarters.”

“I never saw you like that.”

“I saw me like that.” She tickled her son and made him giggle.

Trent let her words sink in. Why, in all the years they’d known each other, had she never spoken of this? She made it sound as if she didn’t think she was good enough for him. That wasn’t true. The trouble in their relationship had been that they wanted different things.

Besides, she’d considered herself good enough for his brother. Or was it that Rafe had never made her feel less than utterly desirable and truly wanted? A vise clamped down on Trent’s chest.

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

He checked his watch and then turned his attention to the darkening sky outside the aircraft. They would be on the ground in twenty minutes. Trent could feel Savannah watching him, sensed her desire for him to elaborate, but he had no more to say.

An hour later, he was carrying his sleeping nephew through his house. Before taking her out to the guesthouse, Trent gave Savannah a tour of the wide-open first-floor living area.

Despite her years in his father’s mansion and her year and a half living in her own enormous house, for some reason she was goggling at Trent’s nine-thousand-square-foot spread.

“You live here?”

He wasn’t sure what to make of the laughter in her voice. “Obviously.”

“It’s a little over-the-top, don’t you think?”

“I bought it for the outdoor space,” he explained, feeling slightly peevish at her criticism.

While the traditional French country style wasn’t his cup of tea, the amenities more than made up for the elaborate plasterwork on the fireplaces and overabundance of pillars and crown molding. Floor-to-ceiling windows and French doors filled the house with light. The place had come furnished with faux antiques that complemented the builder’s vision of a French château.

“I can’t wait to see it.”

Trent guided her through a set of French doors that let out onto a wide, covered terrace. In addition to the guesthouse, his backyard hosted a large pool with a swim-up bar and a pool house, an outdoor movie screen and a putting green. Savannah put on the brakes as soon as she stepped outside.

“Is that a slide?” She pointed out the towering water slide that spiraled from the second-floor terrace to the pool. “I’m not sure this is going to work out for Dylan and me.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a big boy playground.” And from the way she was looking at him, he was the big boy.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Don’t you think having your sister-in-law and her infant son living in your guesthouse will cramp your style?”

“I’m not planning on throwing any wild parties while you’re here, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

She sighed and gave him her full attention. “We’ll stay just a couple days. Long enough for me to get my feet back under me and to find a place we can rent for a little while.”

“Stay as long as you want,” Trent said and meant every word. “Now that that’s settled, are you ready to see the guesthouse?”

Six

Shaded by the palm trees that dotted the landscape, Savannah sat beside Trent’s pool with her feet dangling in the lukewarm water. No breeze stirred the air and sweat trickled down her skin. She was ready for the break in the heat the forecasters promised for later in the week. Apparently in the weeks leading up to Halloween, the highs in Las Vegas dropped from upper nineties to low eighties.

Beside her on the terra-cotta tile sat a plate with half a tuna sandwich and a glass of iced tea. Nearby, Dylan slept peacefully in a portable crib and Murphy snored happily on a shaded lounge chair. They’d been living in Trent’s guesthouse for four days. With his backyard as gorgeously landscaped as any five-star resort, Savannah felt as if she was on vacation, not in the midst of a personal crisis.

She felt safe for the first time since she’d found out that Rafe was sick. Already her guards were coming down. Which troubled her because she hadn’t only been motivated by fear of what Siggy might try next when she let Trent talk her into returning to Las Vegas. She’d also been swept up in a giddy euphoria that he’d cared enough to worry about her. In short, Savannah’s reasons for coming to Las Vegas were more about what might happen with Trent than what had happened with Siggy.

Today she would stop procrastinating and corner Trent about what was going on with the label. She knew he and his friend had been digging into the company’s files, and she needed to know what they’d found. But given the way he’d avoided answering her inquiries so far, she worried that what they’d found was really bad.

Just then, Trent came out onto the patio from the main house. Over the past few days, Savannah had noticed more and more that if she thought hard enough about Trent, he either appeared or called. In the old days she might have thought this meant they were in sync. These days she chalked it up to her infringement on his bachelor lifestyle.