Savannah's Secrets Read online

  As the ceremony began, Blake’s pulse raced. He watched their family and friends march down the aisle. His mother. Daisy, arm in arm with his cousin Benji. His brother Cole and his cousin Delia. Dallas Hamilton and Zora. Kayleigh Jemison and Parker—who had managed to be civil to each other through most of the proceedings. Then Savannah’s sister, Laney.

  His grandfather carried little Davis—the honorary ring bearer—down the aisle.

  Laney’s three-year-old daughter, Harper, scattered rose petals onto the white, custom aisle runner printed with his and Savannah’s names and the words Always and Forever.

  When the music changed and everyone stood, his heart felt as if it would burst. Savannah stood at the head of the aisle on her grandfather’s arm.

  The love of his life was an incredible vision to behold in an off-shoulder, antique white lace wedding gown. The mermaid silhouette hugged the curves that had mesmerized him the moment he laid eyes on them.

  Savannah’s hair was pulled into a tousled, messy bun low over one shoulder. A spray of flowers was intertwined in her hair.

  She floated down the aisle toward him. All eyes were on her, but her gaze was locked with his. As if only the two of them were there in that old barn.

  Savannah turned and kissed her grandfather’s cheek, and Blake shook the old man’s hand. Mr. McDowell was grateful he’d lived to see his granddaughter get married, and that he had the health and strength to walk her down the aisle.

  Blake extended his palm and Savannah placed her delicate hand in his.

  “You ready for this, baby?” he whispered as they turned and stepped onto the stage.

  Savannah grinned, her eyes glistening with tears. “Blake Abbott, I can’t wait to become your wife.”

  They stood before the magistrate in a room filled to capacity with the people they loved most, and she did just that.

  * * * * *

  Don’t miss these other Harlequin stories

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  Available April 2018

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  Married for His Heir

  by Sara Orwig

  One

  “Just remember, curiosity killed the cat.” Nick Duncan shot his brother a narrow-eyed look, as if willing him to lay off.

  But Stan didn’t take the hint. He merely shook his head and continued. “What do you expect, Nick? A woman you don’t know is coming by to tell you about an inheritance you didn’t know you had. Of course I’m curious.”

  Nick had to agree, the man had a point.

  He stepped off the porch into the front yard of his cattle ranch, the ND Ranch, taking a moment to let his gaze sweep over the landscaped front yard, green from the constant watering. But nothing could distract his thoughts. An inheritance?

  “And you say our attorney told you to accept the appointment with her?” Stan asked, stepping up beside his oldest brother.

  “Yeah. Apparently, she went to Horace and talked to him instead of calling me. How she found him, I don’t know. That should be personal information.” He swiped a hand across his neck. “I’ve been racking my brain, but heck, I don’t know any Talia Barton, not in the oil business, not from ranching, not socially. And I’m sure I’d remember. Since I stepped down as CEO at Duncan Energy, I don’t stay in Dallas. Only when I have to go to board meetings or something special. This ranch is where I live. I can’t think of any woman named Talia. There have been so damn few women in my life since I became a widower.”

  “You mean no one that you’ve been interested in,” Stan clarified. “You have a steady stream of women coming to see you, bringing you enough casseroles and desserts to open a restaurant out here. I’ll bet you have a fridge filled with food in your Dallas house, too.”

  “Oh, yeah. The ladies don’t want me to starve. They’ve got good intentions, but I’m not interested.” He hadn’t been interested in a woman in three years—and he didn’t figure he ever would be again.

  He took off his Stetson and swiped it across his jean-clad thigh, as if he could banish the memories as easily as he did the dust on his hat. All this time and thoughts of Regina could creep up on him at the oddest times.

  He squared his shoulders and replaced the hat. “Well, no matter who she is, this Talia Barton can come out here to see me. I’m not driving to Dallas. I told Horace.”

  He’d also asked the attorney questions. Lots of them. But he hadn’t gotten any answers. Whatever this mystery woman had told Horace, he wouldn’t say. He’d merely insisted Nick make an appointment to meet her.

  “Is Horace coming to the ranch?”

  “No, I told him he didn’t need to. Whatever she intends to do, this meeting should be short.” Nick turned to his brother, looking into eyes that were as green as his own, and flecked with gold. “Come to think of it, Stan, you might as well stay. Whatever inheritance I’m getting, it may eventually involve you.”

  “Oh, no,” Stan said, grinning. “I have my new horse loaded into my trailer and I’m taking him home. I’ll hear later what the mysterious Ms. Barton is giving you. And, by the way, have you told Grandmother?”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding? Of course not. At least not until I know why we’re meeting.”

  Stan laughed. “No, I guess not. I sure as hell wouldn’t tell her until I knew and maybe not even then.”

  Nick clapped his brother on the back. “Come on—let’s go inside. I’m not waiting out here to greet Ms. Barton,” he said, turning for his ranch home.

  “No, no.” Stan shook his head. “I told you, I’m leaving. This appointment is for you and it’s private. You can call and tell me what the hell a woman you don’t even know has for you.”

  “I’m still tempted to ignore Horace and refuse to see her.”

  “Horace has been our family attorney for years and your attorney since you turned twenty-one. You do what he says and meet with her. You know he’s not giving you bad advice.”

  “I don’t know. Any attorney who won’t confide in his own client w
hom he has known since I was five years old is a damn poor attorney, if you ask me.”

  “You know Horace has to have a good reason for not telling you what’s involved.” Stan started to leave, his wavy brown hair tangling in the breeze. “And it must be something good.”

  “If it isn’t, I’m getting a new attorney,” Nick grumbled, gazing down the long ranch drive that disappeared around a curve where a tall cottonwood’s leaves fluttered in the wind.

  Stan left, his boots clicking on the brick walk as he headed to his shiny black pickup with a horse trailer hitched to it.

  While he rubbed the brown stubble covering his jaw, Nick watched the plume of gray dust Stan’s truck stirred as he drove away. In minutes the dust settled and he went inside to wait in the study. He only wished his thoughts could settle just as easily. But he couldn’t still the questions that swirled in his mind.

  Talia Barton...

  Since he had become a widower, he’d had a few one-nighters, all meaningless encounters, but not many of them and not in a long time. He had been working late hours to wear himself out, and working out before and after handling ranch tasks. He didn’t date and he didn’t want to. So how did he know Talia Barton?

  It was fifteen anguishing minutes later when he heard a car pull up the ranch drive. He went to the window and watched as a black car slowed and stopped in front of the house.

  In minutes the driver emerged from the car and Nick’s interest increased a fraction as he viewed a tall, leggy blonde in high heels, a navy suit and a white blouse. Looking as if she had just stepped out of an office or a photo shoot, she would turn heads wherever she went. If she had any persuasive abilities, he could see why Horace had told him to meet her.

  He forced himself to stand still. His house manager served as a butler, and since Royce knew she was coming, he would bring her to the study. Instead, Nick watched her come up the steps and his pulse jumped. The woman was gorgeous.

  He walked across the room to the open door. In seconds he heard Royce talking to her, and when they came into sight, Nick stepped forward. “Thanks, Royce.” He extended his hand to the woman. “Ms. Barton, I’m Nick Duncan,” he said as Royce left them.

  The moment he wrapped his hand around her soft, warm hand, he felt a sizzling jolt of awareness, something that hadn’t happened since his wife. The reaction startled him and he looked more closely at her.

  He saw a flicker in her thickly lashed blue eyes that caused his pulse to jump another notch. She felt something, too, and that knowledge fueled his reaction.

  She cleared her throat and withdrew her hand. “I’m Talia Barton. Please call me Talia,” she said in a soft voice. There was a directness about her that made him feel she was a no-nonsense person, and once again, he thought that people probably did what she wanted.

  “Come have a seat where we can talk,” he urged, motioning her into the study. “I’m curious what it is that you couldn’t tell me about by phone,” he said, his interest growing because he was absolutely certain he had never seen this woman in his life before now. He would not forget her. “My attorney has urged me to see you, so whatever it is, you’ve certainly convinced him.”

  “I think you’ll agree after you hear me out,” she said, following him into the room. She took the leather chair he indicated and sat facing him.

  Nick couldn’t resist looking when she crossed her long, shapely legs. His reaction to her startled him again. He hadn’t had this kind of response to a woman since his wife’s death almost three years ago. The anniversary of the plane crash that had taken his wife and baby would be in August. Since his loss, it was as if he had become numb, half dead himself and oblivious of women, except for a few one-nighters at parties far from the ranch.

  Why was he having this reaction to this mystery woman?

  * * *

  Talia looked into green eyes flecked with gold and realized there would be nothing easy about this meeting. To add to her jittery nerves, Nick Duncan was not only handsome and appealing, but there was some kind of vibrant chemistry between them.

  In every way she possibly could, including hiring a private investigator to get information on Nick, Talia had checked into his life. To her relief, all sources reported that Nick Duncan was intelligent, reliable, capable, confident, successful and tough when he needed to be. From all that she could find out, he had been a good husband and father, even though he’d had his son for only a brief time.

  Once he’d checked out, she’d gone ahead with her plans to meet him and lay out her problem for him. But she hadn’t planned on this volatile chemistry that had simmered between them from the moment she had walked into the room.

  When they had shaken hands the sizzle had startled her. So had the tingles when she’d met his gaze. It wouldn’t matter, though, she told herself, because they would never mean anything to each other. Still, she had been surprised. Since her disastrous marriage while still in college and then divorce, she hadn’t been drawn to any man. Besides, there was too much upheaval in her life now. But somehow, with a mere touch, Nick Duncan broke through all that. He was far more handsome and sexy in person than his pictures indicated. It wasn’t even his personality because he was being polite, cautious and reserved. She knew he wondered why she was there and what she wanted. She might as well tell him and get this over with.

  Nothing in her life—not the deaths in her family or her broken marriage—had hurt as much as this. Tears threatened, uncustomary for her, and she swallowed, looking around the room as she fought to get her emotions under control. She had rehearsed what she would say to him, but now that the moment had come and she was actually facing him, she wanted to run to her car and drive home.

  And then what? she asked herself. If she didn’t talk to him, the alternative was worse. Nick Duncan had checked out as a successful, intelligent, family-oriented man. A billionaire, owner of the ND Ranch, part owner of Duncan Energy, a company started by his father and now run by the two youngest Duncan brothers with Nick and his brother Stan on the board. Nick was a good rancher, a good businessman, a man who had had his own terrible loss. She had no choice but to do what she’d come here to do. She squared her shoulders and sat up straight, but before she could speak, he broke the awkward silence.

  “Do you live around here?” he asked.

  “I live in Dallas. I teach art in a two-year college.”

  He didn’t know it, but his question gave her the opening she needed. She took a breath and gave him a faint smile.

  “Mr. Duncan, I’m—”

  “Nick, please,” he prompted her.

  “Yes, well, Nick, I’m sure you’re curious as to why I wanted to see you...and there’s no need to wait. I want your help about something belonging to you.”

  He leaned in closer, resting his hands on his knees as he looked at her intently.

  “I’ve had a neighbor whose niece, Madeline Prentiss, inherited her house and Madeline and I became friends. Neither of us have any family, so we were drawn together. She had a degree and internship in landscape architecture. She worked for a landscape company and took a night art class I taught because she drew landscape plans for clients. We rode to class together that year and became even closer friends.”

  She related the facts, the history that he needed to know, but the whole time she spoke, all she wanted to do was leave. She didn’t want to ask his help or ask him to do anything. She took a deep breath, looking into those curious green-gold eyes that made her heart beat faster, and suddenly she couldn’t go on. They stared at each other.

  “I had this all rehearsed,” she said finally as she rose abruptly, “but it isn’t easy. Just give me a minute.”

  “Sure. Take your time. Let me get you a glass of water,” he said, getting up and leaving the room. She suspected he did it to give her a moment to get herself composed. She knew what she had to do. When he returned, he held a tray wi
th a pitcher and two glasses of ice and water. He handed her one, and when their fingers brushed, for just an instant, she felt another flash of intense awareness of him as an appealing man. While she sipped the icy water, her gaze locked with his. The look in his eyes made her heartbeat quicken.

  “Want to have a seat?” he said, setting the tray on a table. As they sat down again, she noticed his gaze on her as she crossed her legs. She placed her glass on a coaster on a small table beside her chair and adjusted her skirt.

  “This is hard for me, Mr. Dunc—er, Nick—but it is definitely overdue. I was telling you about a friend of mine, Madeline Prentiss.”

  He nodded. “Is there a reason you’re telling me all this about this particular person?”

  “Yes. I’m here because of Madeline. You see, almost two years ago when Madeline was at a party in Austin, she had a romantic night with a man she met there but she never saw him again.”

  “I take it Madeline thinks I’m that man?”

  “Yes. You were that man. That’s definite, and in the past, she told me about the night you two had.” She leaned in and had no choice but to gather her courage and blurt it out. “And there’s a baby from that encounter.”

  * * *

  Stunned, Nick felt as if ice water had been poured over him.

  “You’re saying that I fathered a baby with this woman? And I’ve never heard a word from her about it? Why did she wait until now and why send you? Where is Madeline now?” He couldn’t stop the questions that spilled from his lips. Though part of him was in shock, the other part was in overdrive, and he wanted—no, needed—answers.

  “Madeline didn’t want to inform you of her pregnancy because that night, you spent a long time telling her how much you loved your wife. You told her about losing your little two-month-old son and your wife in a plane crash. You also convinced her that you missed your wife and you weren’t ready to go out with anyone else. She told me you actually cried over your loss. Besides, she knew that you weren’t in love with her and probably never would be.”