The Rancher's Secret Son. Sara Orwig

to the elevator.

      She started to close the door and guilt swamped her. Could she live with her conscience if she flew home to Houston and didn’t tell Nick?

      Closing her eyes, she opened the door just as the elevator doors opened. Nick glanced over his shoulder, saw her watching him and frowned.

      “Nick, can you come in for a little while?”

      He turned, once again giving her one of his probing looks that filled her with dread. Nick could be formidable. He had power, wealth and a state-wide network of cronies with influence. What would he do when he found out about Cody?

      “Claire, I’ll be happy to help with a problem,” he said in a gentle voice, but it did nothing to ease her fear.

      “Come in and let’s get a drink,” she said, leading him into the living area of her suite, which overlooked the sparkling lights of the city from the twenty-fourth floor. She switched on one small lamp that gave a soft glow in the quiet room. “I’m trying to think things through before I start talking. Just give me a minute,” she said. “What would you like?”

      “Let’s see if there’s any beer in that fridge you have,” he said. Looking in the small refrigerator, he held up a bottle of white wine. “Would you like this?”

      “Yes, thank you,” she said.

      “I’ll pour your wine. You go ahead and think so we can talk. I’m in no hurry, Claire.”

      She nodded and he went to pour her wine, but as she watched him walk away, she knew she couldn’t think this through in just minutes. She got her phone out of her purse, still half wanting to tell him to forget it and talk to him later, by phone from Houston. Each time she had thoughts like that, guilt chased them away. She couldn’t fly home without telling Nick that he had a child.

      Perching on the edge of an ottoman, she watched him stroll back into the room. She couldn’t have chosen better for the father of her child. Nick had so many good qualities. She hoped forgiveness was one of them.

      He handed her a glass of white wine. When his fingers brushed hers, he frowned slightly. “You’re freezing,” he said, his hand covering hers. His hand was warm and in other circumstances would have been reassuring. But not now. He knelt in front of her. “What’s wrong? It can’t be money with the successful business you have. Are you not well?”

      She shook her head, unable to say anything.

      “How can I help?” he asked gently.

      “I want to talk to you. Have a seat, Nick. This may take a while.”

      His probing gaze searched hers again before he rose, pulled a straight-back chair close and sat. She sipped her wine and set the glass on an end table. When she did, he took her hand, holding it between his two warm hands.

      “Do you want me to get you a blanket?”

      “No, I’ll be all right.” They gazed at each other and she realized he was being quiet to give her a chance to think and to let her talk when she was ready.

      “Nick, the night you proposed...we had a terrible fight and you said goodbye. You walked out and we didn’t see each other again. It wasn’t many months until you were engaged to someone else and headed for a political career. I’m sure you remember.”

      “Of course I do. We couldn’t work things out.” He took a swallow of his beer, as if to wash away the memory of their breakup. “Karen and I had known each other for years and we’d dated in college and at one point had talked about marriage. When she came to work in DC she called me and I started seeing her. She was from Dallas, had no ties that would interfere with the two of us. My family pushed me to marry and start a family. You had already turned me down. That last time you and I were together...it was terrible. I imagine you were as hurt as I was. It was clear that it was over between us.”

      She nodded her head, giving him the affirmation he was looking for. Then he continued.

      “I proposed to Karen and she accepted. I know it was fast and I know I should have called to let you know so you heard it from me, but...well, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me at all.”

      “I heard you were dating and then I heard you were engaged. I was shocked, but I understood that we couldn’t work out our problems. You had your life in politics and in DC at the time, working at that well-known law firm. It was obvious you would be successful and you were ambitious. The hurtful words we had finally ended it between us. I let you go out of my life and I knew eventually you would have your own life, your wife, your family.”

      “That’s what I planned,” he said quietly, looking down at the beer in his hand and then taking a drink before he lowered it to look at her and wait for her to speak.

      “We had really gone our separate ways and you were starting a new life.”

      “What you want to tell me—does it have something to do with me?” he asked, sounding puzzled.

      She nodded. “I just want you to remember that you had your own life planned, a new career, a future in politics, a new wife. You lived in your world.”

      She could see she had his full attention and she was certain he was trying to figure out how anything in her life could involve him. She took a deep breath and hoped she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.

      “Nick, at that time I was pregnant with your son.”

Three

      Stunned, Nick could only stare at her as he tried to register her words. “That was almost four years ago,” he whispered, talking more to himself than to her. She couldn’t have had his baby. He gazed into her big, dark-brown eyes that still hid secrets and saw her wring her hands. She looked pale, afraid, her shoulders slightly hunched. She was telling him the truth. Four years ago he had gotten her pregnant. Nine months later, she had given birth to his baby and hadn’t told him.

      He had a son. He would have to be three now. Nick was so stunned he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t believe that he was a dad. Gulping for breath, he stood and walked to the window. Like shock waves that kept hitting him, the realization rocked him again that he was a dad, he had a son, a child of his own. He turned to look at Claire.

      “Dammit, Claire. I have a child and you didn’t tell me,” he said, clenching his fists and shaking, anger and shock jolting him. “How could you not tell me? Dammit,” he snapped, without giving her time to answer.

      He could only stare at her and think back. He had been in love with her, had proposed to her and wanted to marry her. And then they’d fought. On the rebound he had married Karen. He hadn’t talked to Claire again and she hadn’t talked to him—a natural outcome of the last hours of arguing, flinging accusations, letting a wall of anger and hurt come between them.

      And now to learn that he had a son and Claire had never told him shocked and angered him all over again. He placed his hands on his hips without thinking what he was doing. “You never intended to tell me. The only reason you did is because we saw each other today,” he said, fury beginning to boil.

      She stood and faced him. “When you told me you had lost your wife and unborn baby, I realized you had to be told. Before, an out-of-wedlock baby would have hurt or ruined your political aspirations and you know it. You wouldn’t have wanted to hear from me. When you married, I always thought you would have your family with your wife and you really would never be that interested in a child I carried.”

      “My son? Of course, I would be interested. I have a son,” he said, feeling awe. “Claire, that is the most fantastic news I could possibly hear. How in hell could you think I wouldn’t be interested?”

      “I just told you—news that I had given birth to your son just after your marriage would have killed your political career. You married within months after our breakup. I wondered if you had been seeing her while you were seeing me.