The Black Sheep's Secret Child

nd-flare dress with chunky gold jewelry and black-and-cream-striped pumps. The look was elegant and professional, but as she settled into the passenger seat she kicked off her high heels, unfastened her sleek updo and peeled off her jewelry. With her wavy blond hair cascading over her shoulders in luxurious disarray and her clear blue eyes sparkling as she peered at her son in the backseat, she was once again the sensual, tantalizing woman who’d haunted his dreams these last few days.

“So, I promised you a surprise,” Trent said, cursing the husky rasp in his voice. He started the car’s engine and turned on the stereo. The CD was ready to go—all he had to do was hit Play. “I took Dylan to the studio while Melody was recording.”

Savannah’s smile turned eager. “Am I finally going to hear a bit of her album?”

“It’s Melody’s music,” he said as he backed the car out of the parking spot and headed for the exit. “But I don’t think this is going to be part of her new album.”

“I’ve been dying of curiosity for the past six hours. Are you going to play me the song or what?”

“Here goes.”

He keyed the CD and waited for her reaction. Her eyes rounded with delight and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Trent found himself unable to stop grinning as the song played.

“Is that Dylan singing?”

Singing was not quite what the infant was doing, but there was no question that he was babbling all the correct notes as Melody accompanied him on the piano and sang the verses. It was one of the tunes she’d written when she was a kid, and obviously it still appealed to the under-ten-year-old set.

“Apparently they’ve been working on this duet since she arrived.”

“It’s fantastic. What a wonderful surprise. Thank you.”

The song ended and Trent was about to hit the rewind button to play it again when a new song began. Nate had burned the CD for Trent. Apparently he’d decided to add a second track.

Savannah cocked her head and listened to the first strains of the new song. “I know this, don’t I?”

Trent knew it all too well—it was the intro to “She’s the One.” He’d sung it yesterday. He had only seconds to act before it got to the part he’d recorded. “Why don’t we listen to Dylan’s song again.”

“Wait.” Savannah placed her hand over his. “That’s ‘She’s the One.’ Is Melody going to put that on her new album?”

The tension in her tone caught his attention. Glancing over, Trent noticed that Savannah’s expression had grown bleak. As his sister sang the first verse, Trent wondered what about the song had caused Savannah’s shift into melancholy. He was equally curious how she would react when she heard him jump in at the chorus.

“I sure hope not,” he said just as his voice filled the speakers.

Hearing himself made him wince. It wasn’t as if he sounded off-key or out of practice, but singing for himself and singing in the studio with his sister were meant to be private performances. Now he felt exposed. He’d been thinking about Savannah while they recorded the song, and to his sensitive ears it sounded like it.

“I had no idea.” Savannah brushed back her hair with a trembling hand. She didn’t finish her thought. “You guys sound great together. Melody should put it on her album.”

“She needs to do a duet with someone well-known.”

“You don’t think anyone would remember the lead singer of Chrome Pulse?”

Trent laughed. “I sure hope not.”

After a couple seconds Savannah joined him in laughing. “I can’t believe Melody talked you into singing with her.”

“I can’t believe Nate put the song onto this CD.” Trent would definitely have some choice words for his business partner. “It wasn’t meant for public consumption.”

“I’m glad he did. And thank you for Dylan’s song. It was really a fantastic surprise.”

For a while they rode in silence, each occupied by their own thoughts. Trent wrestled with the urge to reach out and take her hand in his. Every shift in her body and subtle change in her expression caught his attention. He yearned to demonstrate how much he’d missed her. But her posture warned him that something was bothering her.

“You haven’t told me much about your meeting with Fred. How did it go?”

“He’s really great. I think he’d do a fantastic job running the company.” She quit speaking before she ran out of air and seemed to hold the remaining breath in her lungs. It gave her statement an unfinished feel, as if she wanted to say more but decided against it.

“But?” he prompted as the silence stretched.

“I had a run-in with your father.” From the way she was gripping her purse, it hadn’t gone well. “I think your attempt to provoke him worked better than you thought it would.”