The Secret Baby Bond. Cindy Gerard
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about Parker but what he’d read in the tabloids that had linked him to Tara. Sensationalized news stories were no substitute for Brett’s take on the situation.
“What am I up against here?” Michael asked.
“That’s one thing I always admired about you, Paige.” Brett sobered as he punched in a security code to access the elevator. “You cut right to the chase. Good to see some things never change.
“Parker’s a nice enough guy,” Brett continued after a thoughtful pause. The elevator doors slid open.
“He’s quite a bit older than Tara. She doesn’t love him,” he added with a contemplative scowl as they entered the elevator. The car rose in hushed precision to the top floor. “I take it you’ve seen her.”
“Last night.”
Michael had to force the words as he digested Brett’s news. Tara didn’t love Parker. The relief nearly sent him to his knees. He hadn’t realized until that very moment how much the possibility had been eating at him. It would have made a difference if she’d loved Parker. Michael would like to think he’d have been able to be a man and walk away, knowing she was happy.
He drew a bracing breath and followed Brett with a lighter step to the far end of a long hall and what Michael had decided were the penthouse suites.
Brett slipped a key in the lock and shoved open the door. They walked through the airy foyer and into a spacious living room. A bank of floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded the room on three sides.
Brett strode across the room and with the push of a button, opened the vertical blinds. The view of Lake Michigan from twelve stories up was breathtaking.
“Nice,” Michael said, taking in the dining area at the far end of the living room and the kitchen just beyond it.
“Bedrooms are this way.” Brett nodded toward the hall then headed in that direction. “Two, and two baths. Oh, and the basement garage has assigned spaces.”
“How is she?” Michael asked without preamble.
Brett met Michael’s eyes without blinking, seemed to consider how much he should reveal, then just let it go.
“She’s not Tara the Terror anymore. After you ‘died’ the old Tara disappeared.
“It’s not good,” Brett added grimly. “She’s too quiet, too… I don’t know. It seems like she’s just drifting. Oh, she loves Brandon and protects him like a mama bear but she’s lost all of her spunk, you know? Hell, I can’t even get a good rise out of her anymore and you know how she likes to argue.”
Brett shook his head, like he was trying to pin things down himself.
“I think…well, my gut instinct tells me that she agreed to marry John—you’ve probably already figured out that Parker’s one of Dad’s associates—because he can provide stability for Brandon.”
Michael clenched his jaw.
“It damn near killed her to lose you,” Brett continued, his eyes on Michael. “Brandon seems to be the only thing she really lives for. She just plays at her job at City Beat.”
“City Beat?”
“One of Chicago’s latest and greatest forays into the publishing industry.” They walked down the hall, Brett talking as he opened bedroom doors, showed Michael the closets.
“It’s one of those trendy, upscale magazines—fashion, interior design, city living, that sort of thing. Tara’s a consulting editor for the interior design segments. Part-time,” he added. “I don’t think she’s particularly passionate about it. It’s more like it fills the time for her.”
“Interior design, huh?” Michael poked his head into the guest bedroom.
Tara had studied interior design at the University of Chicago. He was glad she was able to do something with her degree. He’d insisted that she go to college even though it was all he could do to pay the rent and put food on the table during those early days of their marriage.
“Lots of rooms to fill here,” he said then met Brett’s thoughtful gaze. They exchanged a conspiratorial look. “Looks pretty bare.”
“What you need is a good interior decorator,” Brett said with a grin.
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“Look,” Brett said, suddenly sober, “I know things were a little rocky for you and Tara before Ecuador. I don’t know what happened between you two and I don’t want to know. That’s your business. But she’s my sister and I love her. You want her back? Then you see to it that you make her happy. All right?”
“I want her back. And I want her happy.”
“That’s good enough for me. Anything I can do to help?”
“Nope, but thanks for the offer. This is something I need to handle on my own.”
And it was something he intended to handle—as soon as he figured out how to convince his wife that what was right between them five years ago was something he could make right again.
Michael made the fifteen-minute drive from the condo to Lake Shore Manor in record time. He was still having a little trouble readjusting to the Chicago race pace. Time stood still in parts of Ecuador. Many times during the past two years he’d very much enjoyed being a part of those time warps. Since returning to Chicago, he’d actually found he missed them. He’d missed Tara more.
After the gatekeeper buzzed him in, he pulled up in the circular drive, climbed out of the BMW and stared at the classic Georgian mansion that was located in the city’s most fashionable neighborhood. A calm settled over him along with a comfortable realization. He wasn’t the same man Tara had wanted to divorce two years ago. That man had been hungry for power, determined to succeed, both intimidated and angered by this palace and all it represented.
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