The Secret Child & The Cowboy CEO (7 page)

He kissed her softly, then with more force. “I'll make it all right. You'll see.”

She let him hold her, but her heart ached. Trent Sinclair was a man used to winning, to conquering, to molding the world to his specifications. But even the king occasionally had to admit defeat.

He nuzzled her neck. “Don't think so much. Just feel, Bryn. Let it happen.”

Their lips met tentatively. Last night everything had seemed new and different. Now she knew the truth. Trent Sinclair was a hard-ass as far as the world was concerned. He kept his feelings under wraps. But beneath that proud, arrogant exterior, he was a man of great passion.

She kissed his chin, his nose, his eyelids. “I feel guilty. We should be at the hospital.”

“He's sleeping. The doc said so. Hush and let me love you.” He stroked her back as he magically made her reservations disappear.

She heard the four letter word and managed not to react. It was something men said when they wanted a woman. He didn't mean he loved her. She realized that. She was far too intelligent to delude herself.

Which meant that she had to be smart about this. She wanted Trent. Badly. But now was not the time.

“You nearly convinced me,” she said, her heart aching for a multitude of reasons. “But one of us has to be sane.
I'll go sit with him. I'm sure you have some business calls you need to make.”

 

Trent pondered what would have happened if they had not been interrupted last night. Today the mood was less mystical, more pragmatic. But she was as much a siren to him as she had been in the quiet intimacy of her bedroom. He reclined on his side, easing her down with him. Beneath her shirt, he traced the lace at the edge of her bra, feeling gooseflesh erupt everywhere his fingers passed.

Bryn studied him, big-eyed, her pupils dilated, her soft breathing ragged. Her chest rose and fell. She lay quiescent, passive. What was she thinking? He liked to believe he was a good judge of women, but Bryn was a conundrum wrapped in a puzzle. Young, but mature beyond her years. Inexperienced, but wildly passionate.

He reached for the tiny plastic hook at the middle that secured the two sides of the bra. As he unfastened it, her breasts fell free, lush, warm, soft as velvet. He pushed up her blouse and buried his face in them, inhaling the scent that was so evocatively Bryn. Her hands played with his hair, sending heat down his spine and making him wish they had all night instead of a snatched hour in an impersonal hotel room.

He would take her…soon. But he would delay his own satisfaction. This particular moment was about establishing control. He stroked her thighs, touched her center still hidden beneath satin and lace. Bryn groaned even at that light caress, her eyes now closed. He rubbed
her gently, feeling her heat, the dampness that signaled her readiness for him. He increased the pressure, the tempo. Her hips lifted instinctively.

Slowly, wanting to give her every iota of pleasure, he slipped two fingers beneath the narrow strip of cloth between her legs, and then thrust inside her with a quick motion. Bryn gave a sharp, keening cry and moved against his hand, riding the waves of pleasure that caused her inner muscles to squeeze his fingers.

The eroticism of her release made him sweat. His erection throbbed with a burning ache. But he drew on his iron will and refused to allow himself to be at her mercy. Trent couldn't lie to himself any longer. He was soft when it came to Bryn. And it pissed him off that he didn't really want her to leave. His hunger for her was a weakness. And that vulnerability was trying to persuade him that she was innocent. That she was telling the truth.

Which made him the world's biggest jackass. Powerful men were brought down by scheming women all the time. He hoped like hell she was being honest with him. But if worse came to worst…if she had lied about Jesse…well…Trent's loyalties were clear. Protecting Mac…and protecting Jesse's memory.

But the effort to maintain the upper hand cost him.

He looked down at her broodingly. “You're right. One of us should be at the hospital. And I need to deal with the mess in Denver. I shouldn't have started this right now. I'm sorry.”

Her flushed cheeks and tousled hair made her even
more beautiful than usual. He stroked her cheek. “Say something.”

Her smile was wry. “What's left to say? I can wait until you trust me…but can
you?
”

B
ryn's heart slugged hard in her chest. She had let herself fall in love with Trent Sinclair.

In the beginning she had fooled herself, thinking that all she wanted was for Trent to forgive her, to believe her and to show her the same gentle camaraderie and friendship they had once shared.

Later, she had told herself it wouldn't be hurting anyone if she dared to enjoy Trent's bed. After all, she'd been living like a nun. She deserved some pleasure.

But now…oh, God…now…

She had done the unforgivable. She had tumbled head over heels, gut-deep in love with a man who was as inaccessible to her as the moon. Trent didn't trust her. Might never trust her. And even if the truth eventually came to light, Bryn had a child. Jesse's son. A boy whose
existence might drive a permanent wedge between Bryn and the man she had always loved.

Even if Trent finally accepted her at face value, the situation was hopeless. Even the least intuitive person could see that a happy ending was an oxymoron in this situation.

She turned her head to look at the man who had wreaked such havoc in her life. He was seated on the far side of the opposite bed with his back to her. His voice on the phone was different…sharper, more commanding. She could almost see the employee on the other end of the call scrambling to follow orders.

But Trent was not an ogre. He was disciplined. Fair.

He would hate the description, but he was a beautiful man inside and out. Completely masculine, tough, steady, honorable.

She couldn't fault him, really, for choosing to believe his brother instead of Bryn. Jesse was his flesh and blood. And Trent had spent a lot of years looking after Jesse, making sure he was happy.

Much like Bryn felt about her son. She would do anything for Allen. Including risking Trent's wrath to prove that Allen deserved to be recognized as a Sinclair.

But what she could
not
do was let this thing with Trent go any further. No matter how much she wanted to…no matter how wonderful it was to be in his arms, his life, his bed. Already, her heart was breaking. They had no future…none at all.

She dressed quietly and slipped from the room. Mac
was just rousing as Bryn arrived. “You look good,” she said. “Let me help you with that dinner tray.”

“Hospital food tastes like crap.”

Despite his grumbling about the bland food, Mac polished off a piece of baked fish, green beans and carrots. His protest was halfhearted and she knew the collapse had scared him.

Mac sipped tepid iced tea through a straw. “Where's Trent?”

“He was on the phone when I left. He'll be here soon.”

“What's going on between you two?”

She winced inwardly, but managed not to react. “Nothing but the usual. He still isn't sure he can trust me.”

“The boy's a fool.”

“You were on the same page not so long ago,” she reminded him gently. “Until Jesse died and you had to face the truth. Give Trent some slack. He's doing his best. Losing Jesse has shaken him. Especially since it came out of the blue.”

Guilt washed over Mac's face. He poked at a carrot with his fork. “I didn't want the three boys to know how bad it was. I thought I could whip Jesse into shape, keep a close eye on him. I'm responsible for his death as much as anyone.”

Seeing the proud Mac Sinclair with tears streaking down his leatherlike cheeks was almost more than Bryn could bear. She moved the dinner tray and scooted onto the bed beside him, putting her arm around his shoulder. “Don't be a horse's hiney,” she said softly. “You were a
wonderful father to all four of your boys…and a dear grandfather to me.”

“I sent you away.” He rested his head against her chest, his eyes closed.

“You did what you thought was right.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“Of course,” she said simply. “Aunt Beverly was so good to me. And Allen adores her. I'm fine, Mac. No harm, no foul.”

They sat there in silence, both of them lost in thought.

Finally, Mac gave a wheezing sigh and moved fretfully in the bed. Bryn stood up and smoothed the covers.

He folded his arms across his chest, wrestling with the IV. “Trent thinks we should get a test…as soon as possible. So there won't be any questions. But I don't want to.”

The packet of letters in her room mocked her. Would a paternity test destroy her hope of securing her son's future? “Why not, Mac? We all need to know the truth.”

“I trust you, Brynnie, my girl.”

At that very moment, Trent walked in. If he had heard the end of their conversation, he gave no sign.

“You're looking better, Dad. Nothing like a visit from a beautiful woman to perk up a man.”

Mac chuckled, but the bland glance Trent sent Bryn's way made her knees weak. It was hard enough to deal with a suspicious, angry Trent. How on earth was she supposed to find the strength to resist the charming,
seductive version? One glance from those dark eyes and she was ready to drag him into the nearest broom closet.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to look at Trent. “I'm going to stay with Mac tonight. The nurse said they can bring in a cot for me. Why don't you go back to the ranch to check on things and then come back in the morning to pick us up.”

“I thought we were both going to stay at the hotel.” A frown creased Trent's forehead.

“It was great to have a place to nap, but I'll be fine here. And Mac says he promised several of the men the weekend off. Isn't that right, Mac?”

“Yep. Brynnie will be here if I need anything, and they're predicting storms tonight. I'd feel better if you were at the ranch. Do you mind, son?”

“Sounds like I've been outvoted.” Trent's lips quirked. “But, sure. If that's what you want, Dad.”

Bryn and Trent sat with Mac until almost eight o'clock that evening. Trent brought cafeteria food up for Bryn and him to eat. In some ways, it was almost like old times, the teasing, the laughter. They avoided any and all topics that might be upsetting to Mac.

But finally, it was time for Trent to leave. He touched Bryn's shoulder. “Walk me out to the car.”

She did so reluctantly, unwilling to be alone with him but unable to think of a good excuse. They stopped off in the gift shop and Bryn bought a toothbrush and toothpaste. She tucked them in her purse with the sales slip and followed Trent outside. “Call my cell,” she said,
“and I'll let you know when the doctor says he can be dismissed.”

Trent leaned a hip against the car. “Okay. I doubt you'll get any sleep tonight. Are you sure you don't want to keep the hotel room and let us take turns?”

She shook her head. “Mac will feel better about the ranch this way.” A suddenly gust of wind sent her hair flying. The skies were darkening as storm clouds built. “You should go,” she said. “So you won't have to drive in what's coming.”

Trent smoothed her hair behind her ears, both of his hands cupping her cheeks. His gaze was troubled. “I want to believe in you,” he muttered.

The husky words went straight to her heart. Was she imagining the caring and tenderness in his voice? She stepped away from him, gathering her courage, though all she wanted to do was rest in his arms. “But you can't,” she said, the words barely audible.

He thrust his hands in his pockets. “You expect a lot.”

She forced herself to say the words. “I can't be intimate with a man who despises me.”

For a split second, he stood, poleaxed, before his face closed up and a mask of arrogance cloaked his inner emotions. “I don't despise you, Brynnie. That's the problem.”

She shifted from one foot to the other, wincing as thunder rolled in the distance. “Perhaps in light of Mac's most recent incident, we need to concentrate all our focus on him.”

Trent's black scowl sent a shiver down her spine.

She held out a hand. “Let's face it. We have nothing in common, Trent. You're leaving very soon…as soon as Gage gets here. Mac might get the wrong idea if he realizes we've been…”

“Screwing?”

His deliberate crudity hurt. “You were always special to me, Trent. And what we did this afternoon was—”

He grabbed her wrist. “If you say
fun,
so help me, God, I'll shake you, Bryn. But don't worry, sweetheart.” A sneer curled his perfect lips. “I get the message. You have a short attention span when it comes to men. Maybe Jesse was right about you after all.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, giving her no time to protest. But his lips were gentler than his mood, less combative, coaxing rather than demanding her submission. His tongue invaded her mouth, devastating, as he mimicked the sex act. Her knees went weak. She clung to his arms for support. Even now, with intense emotion radiating from his big frame, she felt no fear, no urge to run.

His hips were melded to hers, leaving no doubt about his state of mind. His erection pressed insistently against her lower abdomen. He was giving her what she craved…perhaps for the last time. And all she wanted to do was meet his raging hunger with her own desperate need for him.

It was over too soon. He shoved her away, his chest heaving. “We're not done with this, Bryn. Not by a long shot.”

He got in the car, slammed the door and sped away, leaving her on the sidewalk.

 

Trent swore violently. How in the hell had she done it to him again?

Was she scared? Or was this part of a Machiavellian plan? Did she think she could turn him into a sex-starved, drooling idiot?

How dare she throw their lovemaking in his face? He'd begun to trust her, to believe in her. And she was deliberately trying to drive him away. He sent the car careening down the road, mile after mile, until reason prevailed and he eased his foot off the accelerator. He'd be no good to anyone dead. Mac was depending on him, and Trent didn't have the luxury of letting his temper reign.

Back at the ranch, he dealt with the various chores on autopilot, his brain racing madly to understand Bryn's behavior. The storm struck with a vengeance, drenching him as he ran from barn to stable to house. When he was finally done for the night, he showered and prowled the halls, wandering from room to room, the electricity in the air keeping him on edge.

He would have bet his entire fortune that Bryn's responses to him had been real…heartfelt. Thinking about last night and this afternoon made him hard as a pike again, and he stood at the large plate-glass window, nude, watching the fury of the storm.

In his memory he saw the smooth perfection of her skin, the way her body responded to his touch. Her warmth. Her scent. His chest hurt, and he rubbed it absently. Jesse stood beside him in the night, a wraith, a painful puzzle.

“Why did you do it, Jesse?” He put his hand on the cold glass. “Why lie about Bryn? Why the stealing? The drugs?”

His only answer was the howl of the wind and the beating of his own heart.

 

“Hey, boss. Good to have you back.”

Trent grinned at the young intern who had the temerity to poke his head into the private office. “Get to work, Chad. Or we'll cut your pay.” The cheeky twenty-year-old from the University of Colorado was smart, self-motivated and had fought hard for this unpaid position. He reminded Trent a little of himself at that age.

When the door closed once again, Trent got up from his broad cherry desk and paced the expanse of thick royal-blue carpet. The huge plate-glass window on the opposite wall showcased Denver's downtown skyline, but Trent barely spared it a glance.

After making sure Mac was safely back on his home turf, Trent had come to Denver again to wrap up the business that had been interrupted. He'd half expected the adrenaline of his usual routine to keep his mind off Bryn.

It hadn't worked.

He told himself that he was glad to be back in the office…that the rush of trying to pack two weeks of work into seventy-two hours was exhilarating. And to some extent it was. But for the first time in forever, his personal life took center stage, no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise.

 

His secretary, Carol, was the next to interrupt. “Just wanted to remind you that Mr. Greenfield will be here in twenty minutes. Will you be using the conference room?”

“Yes. And please make sure Ed and Terrence are there.”

She nodded and started to leave.

Trent held up a hand to stop her. “Carol…do you think I'm a good judge of character?”

She laughed and then realized he was serious. “I've never seen anyone put anything past you.”

“Thanks.” He was embarrassed suddenly.

“Is there a problem I can help with?” Her head tilted at a quizzical angle.

“No, not really. Just a situation with a woman.”

Her eyebrows went up, and he felt himself go red. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

The older woman grinned. “One piece of advice, if you don't mind. Don't ever assume you can use business principles in a personal interaction with the female sex. That will blow up every time.”

When she closed the door quietly behind her, Trent scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned. He should have a plan before he went home, but he was damned if he could think about anything but getting Bryn in his bed.

He hadn't talked to her once since he left. On purpose. And Mac continued to evade questions about Jesse and the past. Trent felt like everyone was keeping secrets from him, but that was going to end. It was time for a showdown.

 

When business was tied up and Trent felt comfortable that his staff could handle things for another couple of weeks, he flew home.

It was late when he arrived at the ranch. He'd used a car service from the airport. His first stop was his father's bedroom. Mac was sleeping peacefully.

When Trent stopped at Bryn's door, he called himself all kinds of a fool. Before his knuckles could make contact with the wood, he jerked his hand back. He turned on his heel and headed for the barn, his forehead covered in a cold sweat. If something didn't break soon, he was going to go mad. He saddled one of the powerful stallions and led him outside. Only then did he see the silent figure perched on the corral railing. Had she been there all along?