Fortune's Secret Child. Shawna Delacorte
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at control, her suppressed desire for Shane Fortune heated to an uncomfortable level. She tried to keep any and all emotion out of her voice. She was an intelligent adult who could certainly handle an awkward situation with a former lover in a mature manner. At least that was what she tried to convince herself of. “I don’t know how this apparent misunderstanding occurred, but there’s obviously a problem here, and it needs to be straightened out immediately.”
“I’ll have to agree with you on that.” Shane took his dinner from the microwave and set it on the counter, then turned his attention back to Cynthia. He felt a twinge of guilt when he noticed the scrape on her arm. It was not the first time he had battled feelings of guilt where Cynthia McCree was concerned.
He watched her for a moment as she nervously smoothed her hair back with her hands—the curve of her jaw, the tilt of her nose, the soft lips, the creamy skin. His breathing quickened and then his throat went dry, making it difficult for him to swallow. He finally looked away, hoping to break the bands of tension that tightened across his chest. He didn’t know what to think and wasn’t sure what he felt.
He glanced at the dinner he had removed from the microwave, then shoved it aside. Food was of no interest to him at that moment. He stared at her, drinking in her beauty as he tried to sort out what had happened.
He desperately wanted to reach out and touch her—to caress her cheek and to hold her in his arms—but he didn’t dare. It took all his willpower to fight the urge. He glanced away from the emotional pull of her presence. He wasn’t sure how to proceed but felt pressured to say something. “So...start at the beginning and tell me how you came to be in my house.”
She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her confidence faded with each passing second. She could not keep the uncertainty out of her voice. “You own this house? Is this also where you live...your permanent residence?”
“I live here three hundred and sixty-five days a year, three hundred and sixty-six in leap years.” He leveled a steady gaze at her. “And just how long have you been living here?”
She stared at the floor as she uttered a sheepish response. “I moved in late this afternoon.”
“Exactly what is this all about?”
His attitude was demanding, but in light of the circumstances, Cynthia had to admit his request was not unreasonable. She took a calming breath and attempted to put the facts into some sort of logical order, an easier task than tackling her need to set aside the very disconcerting effect Shane Fortune had on her—even after all these years. A tremor made its way through her body, telling her just how desirable she still found him.
“My father died three days ago,” she began.
“I’m sorry.” His surprise was genuine and his words sincere. “I didn’t know. Had he been ill?”
“Apparently so—” a sob caught in her throat “—but he hadn’t said anything about not feeling well...” Her voice trailed off, her despair over the loss of her father momentarily distracting her. “Anyway—” she returned her attention to Shane, determined to present a strong front “—late one night I received a phone call from his neighbor saying he had found my father unconscious in the hall and called an ambulance to take him to the hospital. I finally got hold of the doctor.”
She steeled herself. Her personal concerns and feelings about her father’s death were private and certainly not any of Shane’s business. She tried to tamp down her anxiety and steady her nerves before continuing.
“I was making some changes in my life’s direction and personal priorities and was already packed up to move,” she said, “so it was a simple matter to put my household goods in storage to be shipped later. I packed the bare essentials in my car and drove straight from Chicago to Pueblo.”
“Chicago... So that’s your car with the Illinois license plates parked on the street in front of the house?”
“Yes.” She snapped out the answer, annoyed at the way the conversation had strayed from the problem at hand. “Anyway, I had assumed I could stay at my father’s, but when I arrived, I found that his house was really a small studio apartment in a building that looked like it should have been condemned.” She still had difficulty accepting what had been going on with her father. She clenched her jaw and fought back her tears before they could escape.
She forced out her words, preferring to dictate the direction of the conversation rather than giving him the opportunity to ask questions. “I tried to get some information from his neighbor, but he didn’t say anything that explained what had happened.” She slowly shook her head, trying to put logic to something that refused to make sense. “There was no way I could stay there, so I rented a studio apartment on a weekly basis at a motel close to the hospital. My father died four days later without ever regaining consciousness.” A sob caught in her throat as the pain of her loss forced itself to the surface. “He didn’t even know I was there.” She paused, then tucked her private moment of sorrow safely away where no one could see it.
She looked up at Shane, squared her shoulders and gathered her composure again. “Then Kate offered me this house to stay in until I could get my father’s estate straightened out, find a place to live and get a job.”
“It’s amazing that we didn’t run into each other at the hospital. I’m on staff there.”
“Yes, I know.” Her voice dropped to a soft whisper. “I saw your name on the registry.”
An awkward silence filled the air before Shane finally broke it. “Well, that certainly explains what you’re doing in Pueblo, but it doesn’t explain how you and Kate got together. I can’t imagine her doing something like giving my house to someone.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a colossal blunder. They sounded way too harsh, especially in light of the circumstances of her father’s death. He saw her eyes narrow and her jaw tighten, but it was too late to take the words back.
She sharply clipped her words, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. “Kate didn’t give me a house. I can afford to pay my own way. I don’t require charity from anyone, least of all from the Fortune family. I told Kate I would pay rent while I was here.”
“No one said you were asking for charity.” The volume of his voice rose to match hers. “That still doesn’t tell me how and why you and Kate even got together.”
She spit out the words without making any attempt to hold back her anger. “I don’t need your permission before speaking with someone.” She glared at him. “But for your information she read the obituary notice in the newspaper. It mentioned the graveside service that took place this morning.” Her voice softened as thoughts and feelings from several years ago again invaded her consciousness. “I was surprised to see her there. I had only met her briefly on a couple of occasions back when you and I...”
The memory of their two-year intense love affair, which she’d thought would last a lifetime, brought her words to a halt. She swallowed her momentary lapse and continued, though a lot of the fire had gone out of her attitude. The captivating and tantalizing presence of the very tempting Shane Fortune was playing havoc with her reality. Her emotions had been on a roller-coaster ride from the moment she realized the identity of the man who had tackled her. She needed to bring the wild ride to a halt.
“Well, anyway, I was surprised to see her at the service. It never occurred to me that she would remember who I was or associate me with the newspaper obit for my father.”
He folded his arms across his chest and leveled a steady gaze at her. “I see.” His words may not have said it, but his attitude and tone of voice spelled out his skepticism.
She scowled fiercely. “Since you apparently choose not to believe me, I suggest you take the matter up with Kate rather than continuing to badger me. I certainly don’t have any other reason for being in your house.”
His voice grew louder still. “I did not say I didn’t believe you. Stop putting words in my mouth.” His voice dropped. “And I’m