Lone Star Baby Bombshell. Lauren Canan

across Jace’s face. He held out his hand and Matt shook it. Matt was so excited, it was as if he rose two feet above the ground.

      “So Kelly says you’re living in Calico Springs now?”

      Jace nodded, his eyes shifting toward Kelly for an instant and then back to Matt.

      “Yeah. I bought an old ranch north of town. Have a friend who has been in horse racing for thirty years. I always wanted to have land and horses. He talked me into trying my hand at raising some thoroughbreds. There’s enough room to bring in some cattle later if I decide to expand.”

      “Oh man, that’s cool.” Matt’s entire body vibrated in excitement. Matt pointed to a chair. “Can you stay a couple of minutes?”

      “Sure.”

      As they sat down, Matt asked, “Do you still throw a ball?”

      “Oh, yeah. Any chance I get.” Jace’s heart-stopping grin reappeared. “I’d still be a wide receiver if the knee hadn’t gotten bent the wrong way. Do you play?”

      “Yeah. Well, it’s just high school.”

      “Hey, it’s where we all started. What position?”

      As the football banter between the two continued, Kelly eased out of the room. She put Henry down in the crib, and then collapsed onto the small wooden chair by the door. When would this day finally end? Jace Compton, the lying, two-faced multimillionaire, was sitting in her living room talking with her brother, probably speculating if he’d just been two feet away from his own son. And from the sound of their animated conversation, the two guys shared a common interest. This was going to get worse before it got better.

      She wouldn’t think it odd of the Jace she’d met last year. A regular guy. One who fit into the world she knew: a guy who loved cheeseburgers, hot rods and practical jokes. He’d been a decent, down-to-earth guy who’d talked of everyday things. No arrogance. No haughtiness. But it seemed unbelievable the suave wealthy superstar who traveled the globe would sit in an old house and enjoy conversing with a fifteen-year-old kid. It was as though Jace was two different people. In spite of everything, deep inside she still wanted to paint him as a good guy. But she knew he was anything but.

      Breathe deep. She’d told no one the identity of Henry’s father, not even Matt. Infants didn’t resemble either parent enough for someone to see a resemblance. Did they? Most babies had dimples. Maybe she’d get through this.

      To her brother, Jace was a true hero, a superstar both in his action films and on the football field. The chance to talk to the great Jace Compton one-on-one was beyond exciting. She got that. But she would exercise caution. Usually a fair judge of character, apparently she’d misjudged Jace once. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

      The two voices filled the small space as Kelly grabbed dry clothes and headed for a hot shower. When she emerged some twenty minutes later, all was quiet. She saw the glow under her brother’s door and heard the faint sound of music coming from inside. She pulled the air deep into her lungs and blew it out as relief loosened the muscles of her neck and shoulders. Like a major storm that dropped down from the sky without warning, Jace had again breezed in and out, this time leaving no damage behind. But more storms would come. Jace wouldn’t let this go. She knew in her gut he hadn’t been convinced. He would think about it. Remember their time together. And he would be back.

      * * *

      As Jace drove through the small town square headed north toward the ranch, he couldn’t get Kelly and her baby out of his mind. His heart had dropped to his knees when he first saw the infant in her arms. The last thing he’d expected was for Kelly to have a child. Then the idea had hit him hard. Was he the father? He’d always been so careful. He didn’t want to have any kids. He knew all too well what the title of dad meant in his family.

      To this day, he could still vividly remember the smell of burned grease and scorched onions that had filled every corner of the shoddy apartment above the fast-food joint where he and his parents lived when he was around ten or eleven. It was during that time that something had happened. Something had changed. He never knew what. His mother had refused to discuss any of it. But his father had begun drinking and the arguments between them had grown worse. Louder. More intense. Then the abuse had started, his dad taking his fist to the first one he saw when he walked through the door. To try to protect his mom, Jace had endured a lot of it. His mother had been the strong one, taking her son away from the horrific situation. A couple of times after the divorce, his father had found them and it got bad before the cops arrived. Even after all these years, Jace still hadn’t completely let go of his hatred of the man. And he would always admire his mom’s strength of will.

      Finally, in the predawn hours of a Sunday morning, two police officers had stood outside their door. They’d explained that her ex, George Compton, had been killed in an alley behind a bar. Jace’s only thought had been that some stranger got to the bastard before he could.

      Jace could still feel the sinking sensation he’d experienced when reality hit that night. In that moment, with those two cops standing at the door, he’d had an epiphany. He was George Compton’s son.

      He’d never put it into perspective before. His primary focus had always been survival. He and his father shared the same face and deep jaw. They had the same green eyes. Same color hair. If they were so much alike on the outside, it had to be true for the inside. When Jace had realized that, the earth seemed to tilt and spin.

      Before he turned sixteen, he’d been in and out of juvie a half dozen times for altercations with guys in the neighborhood and at school who had somehow found out about his dad and wanted to see if the son was as worthless. He’d had so many suspensions he never did figure out how they’d let him stay in school. His junior year, he’d tried out for football on a dare. He put himself up against classmates who had been active in the sport since fifth grade and wanted to see Jace Compton go down. They were merciless on the new kid, which suited Jace just fine. He’d poured out all his aggression on the field. It was his saving grace. And, as it turned out, football was something he was good at. After three games, he’d earned the respect of a lot of his teammates. His grades came up, and just before graduation he was offered a college scholarship. His love of the sport carried him almost four years. Then amazingly he’d been picked up by the pros. No one knew that every tackle he made, he was taking down George Compton. Every catch and subsequent dash for the goalpost was a screw you to his old man.

      After a freak injury ended his football career, Jace began to work with young athletes. He enjoyed teaching them about his favorite sport anytime he got the chance. But any hope that he’d someday have kids and a family of his own had been stomped into the ground a long time ago, beaten out of him by his father’s fists.

      Still, the idea of Kelly bearing his son was immediately, unbelievably gratifying. His body surged to readiness. Protective instincts rallied to the surface, taking him to a place he’d never been before.

      He took a deep breath, pulling the humid night air into his lungs. If the child was his, why hadn’t Kelly called? He knew instinctively she wouldn’t have kept something so important from him. It wasn’t her way. And surely she would want help with the baby, child support...something. Most women would beat a path to their attorney as soon as a pregnancy was confirmed. There had been two women who had actually schemed to make Jace think they were pregnant just to get rings on their fingers or obtain a few million dollars in their bank accounts.

      But Kelly wasn’t like other women. He would be wise to keep that in mind. It wasn’t only her beauty that drew him to her. She was feisty and independent to a fault. She was intelligent and decisively stubborn. Her convictions and beliefs ran deep, and her sense of right and wrong went to the core.

      What phone number had he given her before he left? He couldn’t remember. The security he had to maintain made it damn near impossible to reach him by phone unless one knew the phrase or identifying password. It changed every few weeks. Had he provided his private cell number? His gut tightened. If she’d tried to call when she realized she was expecting and couldn’t get through his security,