The Black Sheep's Secret Child. Cat Schield

She’d come to Las Vegas with a business proposition and that’s what she needed to focus on.

      “Savannah, what a surprise.” A welcoming smile curved his lips, but to someone who’d seen Trent unguarded and truly happy, it looked fake. “Come join us.”

      She shook her head. “I’m not here to party.”

      He mimed that he couldn’t hear her and waved her closer. Savannah held her ground, not relishing the idea of becoming one of his groupies. If she’d felt out of place downstairs, that was nothing compared to the humiliation of standing on display for Trent’s fashion-forward friends. Pity, boredom and mockery made up their expressions as they judged her.

      In the year and a half since she and Rafe had become a couple, she’d adapted to his preferred style. Her husband had dictated that she wear her hair sleek and fill her closet with elegant clothes worthy of a CEO’s wife. Tonight, she’d been thinking along the lines of business rather than clubbing when she’d left the suite wearing a sheath of red satin and sheer checkerboard squares over a nude lining. It covered her from collarbone to knee and made her stand out from the crowd in the worst way possible.

      “I need to speak to you.” As much as she hated raising her voice, the loud dance music required her to shout to be heard.

      “Just one drink.” He signaled the waitress. “One drink and we can talk right here.”

      She was not going to go sit beside Trent and pretend that the way he’d treated her this last year and a half hadn’t bothered her. Because it had. She’d been angry with Trent for refusing to even consider making a commitment to her and tormented by guilt for marrying his brother for all the wrong reasons.

      Savannah crossed her arms over her chest. She might have to beg for Trent’s help, but she wouldn’t let him see her humiliation at needing to do so.

      “I’d prefer our conversation to be a private one.”

      She’d never negotiated with Trent and won. The man never seemed to care whether or not he got what he wanted. He was always ready to walk away from the bargaining table, which gave him an advantage.

      They stared at each other—each determined to have their way—until the music and the lights faded to insignificance in the background. Trent’s gaze toured her body with lazy intensity as he waited for her to surrender to his will. It bothered Savannah how much she wanted to give in to him.

      His power over her hadn’t faded one bit. Her thoughts were jumbled as she was overwhelmed by the urge to taste his sexy mouth and feel his hands roaming all over her. Their lovemaking had always been hot and satisfying. He’d spent an exceptional amount of time getting to know her body’s every sensitive spot. An ache blossomed inside her. It had been nineteen long months since she’d last been with him, and her every nerve was on fire with anticipation.

      Coming here tonight had been a bad idea. She should have held out for a civilized meeting in his office. Instead, she was filled with a recklessness inspired by the dance music’s heavy beat and her own dangerous desire.

      She had to go.

      As a child Savannah had coped with her father’s temper and her grandmother’s frequent illnesses by hiding somewhere she felt safe. By the time she’d become a teenager, the habit of fleeing difficult situations was fully ingrained in her psyche. Retreat and regroup. Now that she was a mother, she’d grown better at standing her ground, but when overly stressed she fell back on what was familiar. Which explained why she turned away from Trent and headed for the exit.

      The club seemed busier than it had five minutes earlier. Savannah wormed through the press of undulating bodies, familiar tightness building in her chest. The ever-changing lights and the hammering beat of the music combined to batter her senses. Her legs shook as she wound her way past the dance floor, and she wrenched her ankle during an awkward sidestep. Her head began to spin. Pressure built until she wanted to scream. She had to get out of the club. But which direction was the exit?

      “There you are.” The man she’d escaped earlier sneaked his arm around her waist and breathed alcohol at her. Her brief encounter with Trent had stripped away her Courtney armor. Locked in her panic attack, she was vulnerable to the man’s boldness. “Thought you could get away from me, didn’t you?” His lips met her cheek in an untidy kiss.

      “Let me go,” she said, but her voice lacked energy and the man was too drunk to hear her even if she’d shouted.

      “Let’s dance.”

      “No.” She tried to squirm away but found nowhere to escape as the crowd pressed in on them.

      All at once a large hand landed on the man’s shoulder and tightened. With a yelp, the guy set her free.

      “Hey, man. What are you doing?”

      The drunk might have been a wolf, but Trent was a ferocious lion. “Leave this club before I have you thrown out.”

      If she hadn’t been so rattled, Savannah might have enjoyed the way her assailant scrambled away from Trent.

      Despite the heat being generated by a thousand dancers, Savannah’s skin prickled with goose bumps. The urge to turn tail and run seized her, but before the impulse worked its way into her muscles, Trent slipped his arm around her waist.

      Through modeling Savannah had gained an understanding of her physical appeal. Training to become Courtney Day had shown her how to act more confident. By the time Trent had come to New York to visit his sister, Melody, at Juilliard, Savannah was no longer an insecure girl, but a confident, sensual woman he desired. And more importantly, one he could have.

      Falling back into old patterns with Trent was easy and comfortable, and she didn’t resist as he drew her away from the crowd. He led her to a nondescript door, used a key card to activate the electronic lock and maneuver her through.

      As the door clicked shut behind them, leaving them alone in a brightly lit hallway, Trent brushed her ear with his lips. “I see you still need someone to watch over you.”

      Being in his debt before she’d asked for his help wasn’t a successful approach. “You didn’t give me the chance to handle him.”

      “Would you like me to fetch him back?”

      Savannah fought to control a shiver, knowing that to give in was to let him know how much she appreciated being rescued. “No.”

      Trent smirked at her. “You said you wanted a private conversation. How private do you need it to be?”

      “Somewhere we can talk uninterrupted.” She glanced up and down the twenty-foot hallway, seeing no one but hearing voices and laughter from around a corner.

      “My office is quiet,” he said, fingers sliding along her spine in a tantalizing caress. “Unless you’re afraid to be alone with me?”

      She twitched as his touch sent a lance of pleasure through her. “Why would I be?”

      “You’re quivering.” He nuzzled her hair, voice deep and intimate. “Makes me think of the last time we were alone together.”

      “That was almost two years ago.” But already the increased agitation in her hormones signaled that the chemistry between them remained as combustible as ever. Damn. She hadn’t counted on lust being a factor in her negotiations with Trent.

      “In the past, we’ve had a hard time keeping our hands off each other.”

      “That explains why you stayed away from me. Why did you stop taking Rafe’s phone calls? It really hurt him.”

      His blue eyes narrowed. “Ask me if I’m worried how Rafe felt. He was my older brother, yet he never once stood up for me against Siggy. Not when we were kids or when Siggy refused to bring me into the family business. Rafe was the golden child and he liked it that way. So, what? I’m supposed to forgive and forget because he has a change of heart on his deathbed?”

      There it was. That chip on his shoulder.