His Secret Son. Stacy Connelly

often than not, he’d convince her to slip away from the library and sneak off to the square or the rocky, secluded beach not far from town.

      It hadn’t been much of a risk, really, as they’d never done anything more than sit on a shady park bench or walk on the beach and talk. So perfectly harmless if she didn’t count falling headlong in love with him.

      And while Lindsay wanted to believe she’d outgrown such foolishness, this was one challenge she couldn’t refuse. She didn’t dare admit she had a problem with Ryder taking a look at the house—not without giving him cause to wonder why. And hadn’t she been looking for a way to get to know him? A better opportunity wasn’t likely to fall in her lap, and yet—

      I don’t want him here. Not so close to Robbie. Not where their every move would be under her grandmother’s watchful eye...

      “I don’t suppose it would hurt to get a quote,” she said finally. “But I’m going to need references.”

      “Of course,” he agreed with mock seriousness. “You wouldn’t be the girl I remember if you didn’t do your homework first.”

      “The girl you remember,” she muttered beneath her breath with a sarcastic scoff. “Right.”

      She turned to head back to the kitchen, but Ryder caught her arm. Lindsay nearly gasped at the unexpected contact even though it was nothing more than a split second before he let go. Had he sensed her reaction? Or make that overreaction? She didn’t dare look him in the face. Good Lord, could this morning get any more humiliating?

      “I’m sorry about yesterday. Seriously, Lindsay, when I first saw you...I didn’t recognize you. You looked so different.”

      Because she’d changed, she reminded herself. And not only on the outside. She was a new person. A stronger, smarter, more confident person. So she forced herself to meet his gaze.

      Sincerity filled his expression as he said, “I didn’t realize it was you.” A faint smile curved his lips. “Seeing you today, I’d have recognized you in a heartbeat.”

      And then that mossy gaze traveled from her sleep-tousled hair caught back in its mousy ponytail, her thick glasses and makeup-free face, down her cutesy and by no means sexy pajamas, all the way down to her feet. Heat rose over her skin every inch of the way.

      Embarrassment. Pure and simple embarrassment.

      “Gotta tell you, I’m digging the doggie slippers.”

      Lindsay glanced down, and two pairs of googly eyes stared back up at her. The beagle slippers Robbie had given her for her birthday as a not so subtle reminder of the dog he wanted.

       I really need to wake up before this nightmare gets any worse.

      Muttering an excuse about helping her grandmother, Lindsay ducked away. When no convenient hole opened up to swallow her, she joined her grandmother at the stove and reached for the plate of hash browns. “You could have warned me you’d invited someone over this morning.”

      “I’m sorry, sweetie. But really, I thought you’d be happy. Isn’t this what you and your parents have wanted?”

      Lindsay exhaled as she reminded herself that this wasn’t only about her. Her grandmother had made a tough decision about selling the house, and if getting the repairs over and done with made things easier on Ellie, then Lindsay could certainly give her gran a break. “You’re right, of course. And I am glad. It’s for the best, you’ll see.”

      “Oh, I have no doubt. Just think, once the repairs are made and everything’s back in shape, I’ll have no reason not to stay right where I am.”

      With a satisfied smile, Ellie grabbed the platter loaded down with pancakes, crispy bacon and scrambled eggs and turned toward the eat-in nook. “Now, who’s hungry?”

      Robbie and Ryder both called out, but Lindsay’s own appetite disappeared as her stomach dropped. Stay in the house? So much for convincing her grandmother to sell. Instead she’d given Ellie reason to dig in her heels even further.

      Looking over at the table in time to see Ryder cajole a laugh out of her typically shy son over spearing the same piece of bacon with their forks, Lindsay swallowed her own, slightly hysterical laughter as she tried to figure out how everything had slipped so far from her control.

      * * *

      In San Francisco, client breakfasts were held in towering high-rises with multimillion-dollar views overlooking the bay. Often those meetings were catered by some of the best restaurants around, but Ryder could honestly say the food couldn’t compare with the simple, home-cooked dishes Lindsay’s grandmother prepared. The bacon was exactly how he liked it—crisp but not too crisp—and the pancakes so light and fluffy and flavorful he’d waved aside Ellie’s offer of maple syrup.

      If this was a typical breakfast in the Brookes’ household, well, he’d be tempted to stop by every morning.

       And not just for the food...

      Ryder wanted to ignore the sly voice that sounded far too much like his big brother’s, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding toward Lindsay, seated diagonally across the table from him.

      Her appearance was a far cry from the sophisticated woman he’d seen the day before. Her pajamas were sleep-rumpled, her tousled hair caught up in a crooked ponytail, her face free of even a hint of makeup. Ryder had no doubt she was more than a little embarrassed, but all he could think was how fresh-faced and natural she looked. How real...

      And after life with Brittany, the masks she wore and the games she played, nothing was more appealing than a woman with nothing to hide.

      He had to swallow a smile every time Lindsay self-consciously adjusted the glasses she hadn’t worn the day before. She’d clearly switched to contacts and was uncomfortable in the thick tortoiseshell frames that seemed too big for her delicate features. But the more she messed with the glasses, the more he noticed them, and the more he had to fight that smile.

      Ryder still wasn’t sure what it was that had drawn him to her when they were teenagers. To say they didn’t run in the same circles was an understatement. He’d spent his days in the limelight, surrounded by kids in the cool crowd, while Lindsay blended into the shadows. It wasn’t that the other kids disliked her. More that no one really got the chance to know her. He couldn’t count how many times he’d smiled or said hi to her in the halls, but she’d duck her head and all but run away.

      Just as she had earlier that morning.

      But this Lindsay, the grown-up Lindsay—despite the throwback glasses, cartoon pajamas and fuzzy dog slippers—was stronger than the girl he remembered. She could have disappeared into one of the bedrooms upstairs.

      Instead she’d taken her place at the table, but her nerves still showed in her rigid posture. Her gaze kept cutting over to her son every few seconds, though Ryder wasn’t sure what she expected the boy to do. The kid—Robbie, wasn’t it?—was far more reserved than his nephews, who’d talk anyone’s ear off. Maybe it was being an only child. During his own childhood with his older brother and younger sister, there was always someone to talk to, talk over or argue with. Meals were always a noisy, rambunctious affair, a far cry from the polite conversation at the Brookes’ breakfast table.

      “Use your napkin, Robbie,” Lindsay instructed as the boy lowered his glass to reveal a milk mustache.

      Miss Manners, Ryder thought, oddly pleased that aspect of Lindsay’s personality hadn’t changed. Her automatic corrections and know-it-all attitude had led some kids to believe she was something of a snob, but he’d always gotten a kick out of how smart she was.

      Which made him wonder...

      “So, what kind of work do you do, Lindsay?”

      “I work for a PR firm in Phoenix.”

      “Really?”

      He couldn’t