Expecting His Secret Heir (13 page)

Deep in Zach's chest, coldness bloomed, then spread. Questions whirled in his brain. First and foremost: Who was this person? And what did he mean by “our father”? Was Victor Sadie's brother, talking about the two of them when he said “our”? But they had different last names.

Or was he Zach's brother?

Zach didn't know his father, so half or stepbrothers were definitely a possibility. Though the fact that his father would want to have other children when he couldn't be bothered to care for the one he already had was hard to take.

The second line of thought was the more painful one. He didn't even want to think about it. Didn't want to form the words that would rip apart the foundation he'd thought he was standing on for the last two months. But as the water shut off in the bathroom, he knew the detonation was coming.

The phone was still in his hand. He didn't bother to put it down, didn't bother to move. By the time Sadie came through the door, he'd even stopped breathing. That cold, cold part of him wanted to thaw, wanted to go to her.

Her long auburn hair was piled in a messy bun atop her head. She looked tired, her features slightly drawn. Her naked body was wrapped in one of the fluffy towels he'd often used to dry her. When she saw him, her eyes widened, but then she produced a small smile.

“Zach, you startled me,” she said. “I didn't know you were coming.”

Before he could speak, the phone in his hand rang. Her gaze flicked down to it, alarm invading her expression when she saw it in his hand. It played through an entire ringtone, then went silent. Zach's fingers tightened. Almost immediately the ringing started again.

Zach reached out, offering the phone to her. “Beddingfield wants an answer to his question,” he said. “Don't you think you should take his call?”

Fifteen

T
he fact that she could take the phone from Zach's hand and switch it to mute actually amazed Sadie. Her body shook so hard she wouldn't have thought the move was even possible.

But she did it. Because she had to—because she deserved whatever Zach was about to dish out.

But she'd rather not do it in just a towel.

Turning away, she dropped the phone on the bed and reached for her robe. She hadn't even gotten it over her shoulders before Zach's questions started. She was actually surprised he'd waited at all.

“Who is Victor Beddingfield? Your brother? Your lover? Your what? Employer?”

Sadie's stomach turned, this time from more than just the pregnancy she'd confirmed after a stop at the drugstore last night. She couldn't think of that now. Luckily, she hadn't eaten, so there wasn't anything to come up.

“Tell me now, Sadie.”

She absorbed the blow of the staccato words as she tied the robe's belt around her waist. Then she faced Zach, attempting to keep her expression blank.

“Victor is my current—temporary—employer.”

As if her calm answer infuriated him, Zach spoke next through gritted teeth. “And what the hell does he have to do with me?”

She slowly drew in a breath before answering. “He's your half brother.”

Should she say more? This was one reason why she'd put off this moment—there were no guidelines telling her how much or how little information she should give to the man that she'd lied to for two months...no, five years.

“That doesn't tell me what he wants with me.” Zach's harsh expression didn't give her any clues or guidance as to how to proceed.

Okay, here goes...
“Your father recently passed away.” She paused to give him a moment to absorb that, but his expression only grew harder. “There is a rather, um, large inheritance.”

“Then this Beddingfield should take it and leave me alone. My father never wanted anything to do with me. Why would I want his money now?”

That wasn't technically true, but Sadie wasn't going to explain that his father had sent her before. At least, not now.

“It isn't that easy,” she said instead. “Victor can't inherit your father's estate because it has been willed to you.”

Zach frowned, but didn't say anything.

“On one condition.”

Then his gaze flipped to her phone on the bed before returning to her face. “The dirt?”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “You've been selected to receive the bulk of your father's estate, provided you haven't been immoral or corrupt in any way. There can be no arrests, convictions, scandals or incidents showing distinct lack of character in your—” she had to swallow “—history. Your father wanted to reward you for being a better man than he was.”

“That's ridiculous.”

Sadie shrugged. “Mr. Beddingfield played by his own set of rules.”

“So you're, what, here to spy on me?”

Leave it to Zach to get to the heart of the matter.

“Wait. Were you here to spy on me before, too?”

Straight to the heart.
“Yes.” Why prevaricate? He was going to hate her anyway. She might as well cut the ties cleanly, even if the frost encasing her heart was starting to bite. “Your father sent me the first time.” She could go into details later, if necessary. “Victor sent me this time—”

“To find out the truth? Or to make up some plausible lies?”

“Victor doesn't really care either way.”

“He made that clear.”

“But I can assure you, I'll be telling your father's lawyer the truth.”

She couldn't stop herself from flinching as Zach stalked to her. He seemed to grow larger and more menacing as rage lit his features. “You know nothing about the truth. You've lied to me from the beginning, haven't you?”

“Not about the things that matter.”

Rage mutated into disgust. “I doubt you have any idea what matters to me. None at all.”

Oh, but she did. He valued family, loyalty, honesty, compassion, helping hands and going the extra mile. He was everything Victor wasn't. With each thing she'd learned about Zach, Sadie had known she fought a losing battle for his heart.

Because the core of her mission was the opposite of everything he held dear.

Only she couldn't turn away from these few weeks of pure bliss. That had been selfish on her part—indecisive, too. But she couldn't change it—not her choices, nor what had pushed her into those choices.

But she wasn't making excuses or asking forgiveness. She didn't deserve it.

“I'm sorry, Zach.” It was as far as she could let herself go. Anything more and she'd fall to her knees right here, begging for the one thing he would never give her now: his love.

She expected him to let loose that rage on her. To rant or throw things or scream. His father would have. His half brother certainly would have.

Zach did none of that.

Instead he turned and stalked to the door. He was probably done with her. But despite her resolutions, she found she couldn't keep one thing inside. The one thing he deserved to know.

“But I do have one last thing to say, Zach. And I mean it with everything in me. That you are a good man.”

He paused before the door but didn't turn around, didn't grant her one last glimpse of a face carved in stone. Instead he said, “Pardon me if that offers very little consolation.”

She was sure it didn't.

* * *

Somehow, some way, Zach managed to get through what he absolutely had to that afternoon without exploding, and then he ditched the rest of his appointments. His car ate up the miles to the airport. His only thought was of running, fast and far, but where—he didn't know.

The cabin wasn't an option right now. The memories were too fresh, would be too painful. Only now did he regret taking Sadie there, because even a complete makeover would never erase her presence in what had once been his sanctuary.

Anger had him pressing on the gas that much harder. He was anxious for speed even though it wouldn't really help anything. That's when his phone dinged to signal an incoming text.

Sadie. He knew it before he even looked. His instinct was to hurl the phone out the window, but that would be giving in too easily, so he forced himself to pull over and read the text instead.

I've gone home. The room at the B&B is paid thru end of week. Left some of ur things on table and some important papers for you. I'm so sorry. S

Zach let his eyes slide closed. He didn't want to see the screen, didn't want to read about how sorry she was. If she'd been sorry, she never would have lied to him. Hell, she never would have come here. Why would she do something so incredibly dishonest?

No, he didn't want to know. Motive didn't matter, because he refused to feel sorry for someone who would go to so much trouble to integrate herself into his life, his bed, just to find out if he was a bad person.

And who was his dad to judge? That man had never done anything good in his entire life. He'd abandoned Zach's mother when he was little, simply vanished, never paying a lick of child support or sending so much as a single birthday present or Christmas gift. They'd been okay. They'd made it without the old SOB. But that seemed to make the terms of his will even more ironic.

There had to be more to the story than what Sadie had told him.

Some important papers for you.

Dammit. He spun the car into a U-turn and headed back into town. No matter what he told himself, he really did want to know what was going on.

He flashed a strained smile at Gladys when she glanced out at him from the dining area as he made his way through, but didn't speak. Neither did she. Did she realize Sadie was gone? Or had Sadie simply left without saying anything so Zach would have a chance to come by and collect his stuff without Gladys's interference? He didn't know what to think anymore.

He let himself into the room, noticing Sadie's absence at once. The low table no longer held her laptop, just a pile of odds and ends. Her robe wasn't thrown over the high back of the winged chair near the dresser. Her extra fluffy blanket no longer graced her side of the queen-size bed.

But her vanilla-caramel scent still lingered in the air. Tantalizing, but also a reminder of how deceptive that sweetness truly was.

Zach dropped onto the couch in front of his stuff. A T-shirt he'd left here. A toiletry bag with an extra toothbrush and deodorant and things for his overnight stays. His black leather belt. He wished now that there hadn't been so many nights, that she hadn't made it so easy.

Next to the pile was a manila envelope. Zach stared for a long time before he made himself reach out and open it. The quality of the fax wasn't the best, but it was still readable. The time stamp along the top showed she'd had this sent not long after their talk this afternoon.

The letterhead was from a lawyer's office in Dallas. The text below explained that this lawyer was in the process of executing Zach's father's last will and testament. Based on his father's unusual requests, adequate time had been given to search every avenue necessary. If Zach had any questions, he was welcome to call them for explanations.

Should he wish to refuse his inheritance, there were instructions on how to do that and what that would mean for him in terms of future claims. The exact sum wasn't mentioned, but Zach was guessing it was significant for a lawyer to have been hired to set up something this elaborate.

The lawyer seemed like a man who knew what he was doing. Zach planned to reserve judgment until he had experience with the guy himself.

The envelope also contained what looked like legal papers that Zach would look over in more depth later. There was a photograph of a man Zach assumed to be his father. It was blurred with age. But Zach wasn't that interested in the picture; he'd put his father out of his mind long ago. After all, his father hadn't been willing to think about Zach or his mother when he'd left them. Zach had been four at the time.

There was a professional bio. From what Zach read, his father had hit oil when he'd traveled to Texas a couple of years after abandoning them. Of course, he hadn't looked back to the family he'd left behind. Zach's mother had worked her fingers to the bone to provide for him, and later KC. She'd deserved better than that.

As if she'd known he would be curious, Sadie had printed an article about his father's stroke and how it had affected his company. Apparently he was well-known in the Dallas area. Zach scanned it and moved on to the next piece. It was another photo, this one of a younger man with distinct features matching his father's. This one was labeled Victor Beddingfield.

Zach couldn't help it—he studied the picture for any resemblance to his half brother. There were a few. Zach certainly hoped he didn't share the petulant expression and self-indulgent softness that didn't sit well on an adult male.

All in all, the envelope contained straightforward information that Zach could take or leave. It all depended on his plans. He put the papers back. He could find out pretty much everything he needed to know about the players in this game at his office, now that he knew where to start.

This time, he wasn't about to hesitate to dig hard and deep.

Standing, he loaded his arms with everything that belonged to him. He had no intention of leaving anything of himself in this place. As he moved toward the door, he remembered another time, the first time, when he'd faced the same choice. He'd had the chance to exit and never look back, but the lure of Sadie had been too strong.

He glanced toward the bed. The same one that had tempted him that first night here. Memories of nights wrapped around Sadie under those covers made him ache with a mixture of desire, sadness and anger. He wasn't sure if he'd ever get over that. Maybe one day he would. Maybe one day he wouldn't think of her at all, and he could live the rest of his life without thinking her name or remembering her face.

Maybe one day.

As he turned toward the door, a glimpse of something that didn't belong flashed in his periphery. Something neglected on the floor between the antique nightstand and the bed. Zach should leave it. After all, the odds of it being his were slim.

Still, his feet carried him forward, and he cursed himself the entire way for caring that she might have left something of herself behind.

He shifted his load into one arm then bent low and patted around for whatever it was. Finally his fingers brushed against something hard. Long and rounded, it fit easily in his hand as he picked it up.

Zach glanced down as he stood, then totally wished he hadn't.

His mind flashed back to another day. One when he found his sister crying all alone at the bar, late at night after everyone had left. In her hand was an identical white plastic stick with a plastic cap on the end. There were two solid pink lines in the little window in the middle. He dropped onto the bed, and wondered if this day could get any worse.