Secrets, Lies & Lullabies Page 11

  “If you must know,” she continued sharply, “my parents don’t know about Henry.”

  The shock must have shown in his expression because she flushed crimson and shifted guiltily in her chair.

  “I know. I know how terrible that sounds,” she admitted, tucking her hair behind one ear and running her fingertips through to the ends. “I’m a horrible daughter. It will crush them when they find out I’ve been lying and keeping a grandchild from them all this time.”

  “Then why did you?”

  She cast him a glance meant to singe him on the spot. “Can you just hear that conversation? ‘Hey, Mom and Dad, I know this will disappoint you, but I’m pregnant from a one-night stand. Oh, but that’s not the best part. The best part is that the baby’s father is our family’s arch nemesis, Alexander Bajoran, the man who single-handedly ruined Taylor Fine Jewels and destroyed our lives. Surprise!’”

  “Archenemy is a bit strong, don’t you think?” he asked with an arched brow.

  She gave a snort of derision. “Not amongst the Taylor clan. Your name might as well be Lucifer Bajoran, as far as they’re concerned.”

  Which seemed to be an awfully harsh sentiment to have for a former business associate who hadn’t had much at all to do with the split between their families. All of that had taken place quite literally before his time. Alex had been working at Bajoran Designs, of course, but hadn’t taken over as CEO until well after the Taylors’ departure.

  He frowned to himself. Perhaps there was more to the story than he knew, more that he should know. He made a mental note to look into it when he got back to the Bajoran Designs offices. Out of curiosity, if nothing else.

  “Then what do you propose?” he asked, focusing instead on the matter of visiting Portland so they could retrieve the Princess Line proposal. If it was even still where she claimed it was.

  “If we go on Sunday, my parents will be at my aunt’s house for brunch. They’re usually gone three or four hours, so we should be able to get in and out before they get home.”

  He thought about that for a minute. “You’re really going to sneak into town without letting your parents know you were there? After not seeing them in almost a year?”

  Her chest shuddered as she took in a deep, unsteady breath. “If I have to, yes. I told you I was a terrible daughter,” she added when he tipped his head quizzically. “I need to tell them, I know that. And I will. Soon. I just…I need time to work up to it, and frankly, I can only deal with one major crisis at a time. At the moment, you are the main crisis I’m dealing with.”

  “Then the sooner we get to the bottom of some very important facts, the better.”

  “Agreed.”

  “In that case, let me know exactly what time we need to be at your parents’ house, and I’ll make all of the arrangements for the trip, including someone to stay here with Henry.”

  He expected an argument over that, but all she did was nod. Apparently she, too, saw the wisdom in not dragging an infant along on a mission one step up from breaking and entering.

  Twelve

  “I don’t understand. They were right here.”

  Jessica hoped her voice didn’t reflect the panic beating in her chest and at her pulse points.

  They were at her parents’ home in Portland. A lovely two-story brick house at the end of cul-de-sac in a modest development.

  The flight down had been uneventful, and only uncomfortable because Jessica didn’t like being alone in such close quarters with Alex. If “alone” included a pilot in the cockpit and one very discreet flight attendant who made herself scarce between serving drinks and asking Mr. Bajoran if there was anything else he required. And if the private plane could be described as “close quarters.” It wasn’t as large as his mansion, but it wasn’t exactly a broom closet, either.

  She’d blamed her antsiness on a mild fear of flying and being away from Henry. Only one of those factors actually bothered her, but Alex didn’t need to know that. And the sooner they found the folder and got back to Seattle, the better.

  Back to her baby, who was probably even now being rocked to sleep by Wendy the nanny. She liked Wendy well enough; she was actually the nanny Jessica would have hired if it had been her choice alone. But that didn’t mean she was keen on another woman caring for her child when she should be there with him instead.

  The garage attached to her parents’ home was large enough for two midsize cars—one of which was currently absent—and all of her belongings from when she’d had to clear out her apartment. Thankfully she didn’t own much by way of material possessions.

  Even so, she’d gone through everything. Everything because the folder with the Princess Line designs inside wasn’t where she was almost positive she’d left it. She specifically remembered tucking it away with some of her other important papers and legal documents. Not only for safekeeping, but because she knew it would blend in and wasn’t likely to be noticed if anyone snooped through her things.

  She couldn’t imagine her parents going through her stuff.

  Her mother would be like a dog with a bone about the paternity of her first grandchild, but they weren’t the nosy sort otherwise. For heaven’s sake, she’d quit her job, given up her apartment and taken off for parts unknown, all on a whim, and they hadn’t asked a single question. As far as they were concerned, she was traveling, sowing the female equivalent of wild oats and would call if she needed them. Otherwise they assumed no news was good news.

  “Maybe they were never there to begin with, and this is just part of your elaborate ruse to convince me they were,” Alex said from two or three feet behind her. He’d been standing there, hovering less than patiently while she searched.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she retorted without turning around. She was still on her knees, digging through the same banker’s box for the third time in thirty minutes. “One more nail to drive into my coffin. One more reason you’ll give the courts to convince them I’m an unfit mother—a criminal, even—and that you deserve full custody of Henry.”

  Frustrated, angry and increasingly frightened he would do just that, she climbed to her feet, brushing off the knees of her jeans.

  Facing him, she said, “Well, that isn’t going to happen. I’m not lying, and this isn’t a ruse. They were there, dammit, and I’m going to find out why they aren’t anymore.”

  Big talk when she had no idea how to go about it. But she couldn’t let Alex see her uncertainty, not when there was so much at stake.

  Think. Think. Think.

  Her erratic pulse suddenly slowed, and she realized she wasn’t the only person who had known about the Princess Line proposal. She’d told her cousin. Shown her the designs, even.

  Not to use them against Alex, but to prove she had poked around his room the way she’d promised, and also because she’d simply loved the designs. The artist in her had been impressed and unable to resist sharing them with someone she’d thought would appreciate their beauty and intricacy as much as she did. With a few notations on how she would improve upon them, if she could.

  That’s what they had discussed the morning she’d shown Erin the design sketches. Not how they could best go about selling them out from under Bajoran Designs. She would never have done that, regardless of what Alex might think.

  As much as she wasn’t looking forward to what she had to do, it needed to be done. She owed it to Alex, and at this point, to Henry and herself, too.

  “Can I borrow your cell phone?” she asked.

  Alex’s eyes widened a fraction, the blue of the irises stormy and nearly gray. Whether due to mistrust or the dull light in the interior of the garage, she wasn’t sure.

  Without a word, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and removed his phone, handing it over.

  Dialing by memory, she waited through three rings for her cousin to answer.

  “Erin, it’s Jessica.” It was strange having this conversation in front of Alex, especially considering w
hat she was about to say, but it wasn’t as though she had much choice.

  “Erin, this is important,” she bit out, cutting into her cousin’s fluffy, drawn-out greeting. Once Erin quieted, she said, “What did you do with the design folder I stole from Alexander Bajoran?”

  Lord, it hurt to use that word—stole. But she’d taken it without permission, so she had to call it what it was.

  “What do you mean?” her cousin asked. Too innocently. Even through the phone line, she could tell Erin was feigning naïveté.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Erin. I mean it. This is important. I need you to tell me right now what you did with the Princess Line designs. I put them with my things in Mom and Dad’s garage, but they’re missing, and you are the only other person who even knew they existed.”

  Silence filled the space between them for several long seconds. Jessica didn’t look at Alex. She couldn’t. Instead, she pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and prayed she wouldn’t break down in front of him, no matter how close to tears she felt.

  Finally, in a tone of complete entitlement, her cousin said, “I sold them.”

  Jessica’s heart sank. “Oh, Erin,” she groaned, “tell me you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t really do that.”

  “Of course I did,” Erin replied without a hint of apology. “That was the plan from the very beginning, after all. To stick it to those Bajoran bastards.”

  Despite her best efforts, tears leaked from Jessica’s lashes. “No, it wasn’t,” she told her cousin, voice cracking. “That was never the plan. I never agreed to anything even close to that.”

  “Why else were you poking around the man’s room, then?” Erin asked haughtily. As though she had any right to be offended.

  “Because I was an idiot,” Jessica snapped. “And because you convinced me I needed to do something to avenge the family against the evil Bajorans. Which is the most ridiculous idea in history and the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she dropped her hand from her face and turned away from Alex. She couldn’t bear to look at him or have him look at her, at least directly, while she was making such a soul-shattering confession.

  “You had no right to go through my things, Erin. No more right to take that proposal from me than I had to take it from Alex.” Her voice was ragged, and she was skating close to the very edge of hysteria. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Erin.”

  “Oh, what did I do?” her cousin retorted, snottier than Jessica had ever heard her. “Get a little revenge against a corporate tycoon who used his money and influence to put our family out of business? Make some well-deserved money of my own while screwing the Bajorans out of another couple million they didn’t deserve? So what.”

  “No,” Jessica murmured, forcing herself to speak past the lump in her throat. “What you’ve done is betray my trust. Worse, you’ve done irreparable damage to my life. My reputation. My son’s life. I can’t forgive you for this, Erin. Not ever.”

  She clicked the button to end the call just as her voice broke and her lungs started to fight against her efforts to draw in fresh oxygen.

  How could Erin have done this to her? She’d convinced Jessica to do the wrong thing, true. And Jessica took full responsibility for having actually done the snooping and taking of the papers.

  But she hadn’t truly planned to do anything with them. Had fully intended to put them back, and suffered months of guilt when she hadn’t been able to. She’d almost traveled all the way to Seattle to return them in person, but had been too afraid Alex would call the police and have her arrested.

  That, in fact, had been one of her greatest fears about returning to Seattle with Henry. She’d been beyond lucky that he’d put their son first and not called the authorities on her the moment she stepped into his house.

  “Are you all right?”

  He spoke softly, his tone kinder than she would have expected given the circumstances. In fact, he hadn’t sounded quite so nice since that night at the resort when he’d been intent on getting her into bed. Or according to him, open to allowing her to seduce him.

  His hand touched her shoulder. Lightly, almost comfortingly.

  Fresh moisture glazed her vision. How could he be so understanding now when the evidence was clearly stacked against her? He should be furious. Sharp and accusing, just like before.

  “Jessica?” he prompted again.

  She shook her head. “I am definitely not all right,” she told him with a watery laugh.

  Turning back to the stacks and boxes of her things, she started replacing lids and putting everything back in order. It was busywork, something to keep her hands occupied so she wouldn’t sit down right in the middle of the hard concrete garage floor and sob uncontrollably.

  “I guess that’s it,” she threw over her shoulder in Alex’s general direction. “You win. Erin took the proposal and sold the designs to Ignacio, just like you thought I had. So there’s no way to prove my innocence. No way to convince you I’m not the lying, thieving bitch you accused me of being.”

  “I don’t remember using the term bitch.”

  Sliding the last cardboard box onto a short pile of other boxes, she turned to face him. Calmer now, more composed. Resigned.

  “I’m pretty sure it was implied,” she said, emotionless now.

  “No, but perhaps it was inferred,” he replied.

  Moving toward her, he stopped mere inches away. She still couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, so she stared at a spot on his blue-and-black-striped tie instead.

  “I should probably apologize for that,” he continued, surprising her enough that she lifted her head. “I might have been a bit more critical of your actions than was warranted.”

  Jessica’s mouth didn’t actually fall open in a big wide O, but she was certainly shocked enough that it should have.

  He was apologizing? To her? But she didn’t deserve it. She may not have been guilty of exactly what he’d accused her of, but she’d undoubtedly put it all in motion.

  She hadn’t set out to seduce him or to get pregnant, but both had happened because she’d been poking her nose where it didn’t belong.

  And she hadn’t sold the designs for the Princess Line to a competing company, but she had taken them and shown them to her cousin, who’d done just that.

  Cocking her head, she studied him through narrowed eyes. “Did I accidentally drop one of those boxes on your head?” she asked him. And then, “Who are you and what have you done with Alexander Bajoran?”

  She was too upset and emotionally wrung dry to mean it as a joke, but one corner of his mouth lifted nonetheless.

  “I heard both sides of the conversation. Enough to get the general idea, anyway, and to accept that it was, indeed, your cousin who sold the line proposal to Ignacio Jewelers. Which isn’t to say you don’t still carry some of the responsibility,” he added with a note of severity he wasn’t sure he felt.

  “What are you saying?” Jessica asked, justifiably suspicious. “That you just…forgive me? Absolve me of guilt for everything I’ve done since we first met?”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far,” he replied dryly. “But I’d be a hypocrite—as well as a heel—if I held you responsible for something you didn’t technically do. I’ll talk to our attorneys, see if there’s anything we can do about your cousin’s spin at corporate espionage.”

  He paused to gauge her reaction to that, expecting anything from a heated defense of her family member to hysterical tears and begging for leniency. Instead, her full lips pulled into a taut line and her shoulders went back a fraction.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “but we have to at least look into it. Losing those plans cost us millions of dollars.”

  “No, of course,” she responded quickly. “What Erin did was wrong. What I did was wrong, but I never would have taken it as far as she did. She made her bed…I guess she’ll have to lie in it.”

  “Strange as it might sou
nd,” Alex told her, “I actually believe you.”

  And he did. Not only because of what he’d heard with his own two ears, but because if she’d made a dime off the Princess Line prospectus, she would have shown at least a modicum of guilt. Or been dancing like a spider on a hot plate trying to wiggle her way out of trouble.

  He even had to wonder about his assertion that she’d seduced him that night back at Mountain View to get her hands on company secrets. If that were true, she wouldn’t have wasted a moment now trying to seduce him into letting her transgressions slide.

  But she wasn’t fast-talking, and she didn’t have her hand down his pants. More’s the pity on the latter. She’d simply admitted her part in the whole ordeal, all but assuming the position and waiting for the cops to slap on cuffs.

  That was not the behavior of a liar, a cheat or—quite frankly—a gold digger. The verdict was still out on Henry and her purpose in leaving the baby in his boardroom. But since she’d been telling the truth about the majority of charges he’d leveled against her…well, there was a fair chance she was telling the truth about the rest.

  Clearing his throat, he stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his slacks to keep from doing something stupid like reaching out to touch her. And not to console her.

  He wanted to brush the lock of loose blond hair dusting her cheek back behind her ear. Maybe slide his hand the rest of the way to her nape, thread his fingers into the soft curls there, tug her an inch or two closer….

  And from there his thoughts took a decidedly hazardous turn. Better to keep his hands to himself before he risked complicating matters even more than they were already.

  “Just because I believe you about your cousin doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” he told her in a voice that came out rougher than he would have liked.

  That roughness wasn’t caused by anger but by the fact that he was suddenly noticing the bounce of her blond curls—sans the blue streak of a year ago. The alabaster smoothness of her pale skin. The rosy swell of her lush, feminine lips. And the slight dusting of gray beneath the hazel brown of her eyes, attesting to the stress she’d been under for…he suspected months now.