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A Lone Star paternity bombshell, only from USA TODAY bestselling author Maureen Child!
Texas toy mogul Wes Jackson is on the brink of a billion-dollar breakthrough—until a sinister anonymous tipster reveals Wes is a dad! Suddenly his family-friendly company is in crisis and Wes’s sole focus is finding the daughter he never knew. But confronting the child’s mother, Isabelle Graystone, means resisting a chemistry that is as fierce as ever.
Wes’s failure to commit sent Belle running five years ago. Now he’s back, making himself indispensable and stoking Belle’s deepest passions. But is his interest in her part of a bigger ploy?
“We have to talk.”
“No, we really don’t.” Isabelle wasn’t going to give an inch. She wasn’t even sure why Wes was there, and if he didn’t know the whole truth, then she wasn’t going to give him any information. The only important thing was getting rid of him before he could see Caroline.
“That’s not gonna fly,” he said and moved in, putting both hands on her shoulders to ease her out of the way.
The move caught her so off guard, Isabelle didn’t even try to hold her ground. He was already walking into the house before she could stop him. And even as she opened her mouth to protest, his arm brushed against her and she shivered. It wasn’t fear stirring inside her, not even trepidation. It was desire.
The same flush of need that had happened to her years ago whenever Wes was near. Almost from the first minute she’d met him, that jolt of something more had erupted between them. She’d never felt anything like it before Wes—or since.
“I think I deserve an explanation,” he said tightly.
“You deserve?” she repeated, in little more than a hiss. She shot a quick look down the hall toward the kitchen where Caroline was.
“You should have told me about our daughter.”
* * *
The Tycoon’s Secret Child is part of the series Texas Cattleman’s Club: Blackmail—No secret—or heart— is safe in Royal, Texas...
The Tycoon’s Secret Child
Maureen Child
www.millsandboon.co.uk
MAUREEN CHILD writes for the Mills & Boon Desire line and can’t imagine a better job. A seven-time finalist for a prestigious Romance Writers of America RITA® Award, Maureen is an author of more than one hundred romance novels. Her books regularly appear on bestseller lists and have won several awards, including a Prism Award, a National Readers’ Choice Award, a Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence and a Golden Quill Award. She is a native Californian but has recently moved to the mountains of Utah.
To the world’s greatest editors, Stacy Boyd and Charles Griemsman—in the world of writers and editors, you two shine. Writing isn’t always easy but you guys bring out the best in all of us.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Extract
Copyright
One
Wesley Jackson sat in his corporate office in Houston, riding herd on the department heads attending the meeting he’d called. It had been a long two hours, and he was about done. Thankfully, things were winding down now and he could get out of the city. He didn’t mind coming into town once in a while, but he always seemed to breathe deeper and easier back home in Royal.
Didn’t appear to matter how successful he became, he’d always be a small-town guy at the heart of it. Just as, he thought with an inner smile as he set one booted foot on his knee, you couldn’t take Texas out of the businessman.
“Am I keeping you from something important?” Wes asked suddenly when he noticed Mike Stein, the youngest man on his PR team, staring out a window from the other side of his wide mahogany desk.
Mike flinched. He was energetic, usually eager, but a little distracted today. Not hard to understand, Wes thought, considering it was January 2 and everyone in the office was probably nursing the dregs of a hangover from various New Year’s parties. And Wes could cut the kid a small break, but that was done now.
“What?” Mike blurted. “No, absolutely not. Sorry.”
Tony Danvers snorted, then hid the sound behind a cough.
Wes’s gaze slid to him, then to the woman sitting on the other side of him. Mike was new, but talented and driven. Tony knew his way around the company blindfolded, and Donna Higgs had her finger on the pulse of every department in the building. The three of them exemplified exactly what he expected from his employees. Dedication. Determination. Results.
Since everything else he’d wanted discussed had been covered in the last two hours, Wes finally brought up the most important item on his agenda.
“The Just Like Me line,” he said, flicking a glance at Tony Danvers. “Any problems? We on track for spring delivery to outlets?”
This new doll was destined to be the biggest thing in the country. At least, he told himself, that was the plan. There were dolls that could be specially ordered to look like a child, of course. But Wes’s company had the jump on even them. With the accessories available and the quick turnaround, the Just Like Me doll was going to smash all sales record previously set for...anything. He smiled to himself just thinking about it. A line of dolls that looked like their owners. Parents could find a doll that resembled their child, either online or at retail locations. Or they could special order one with accessories to make it even more like the child in question.
Wes once considered bringing the doll out early, to catch the Christmas shopping frenzy. But he’d decided against it, banking on the fact that by February children would already be tired of their Christmas toys and looking for something new.
He was counting on making such an impact that by next Christmas, the dolls would be on every kid’s wish list. And every child who had already received one would be looking for another. Maybe one in the image of a best friend or a sibling.
The possibilities were endless.
Tony sat back in his brown leather chair, hooked one ankle on a knee. “We’re right on schedule, boss. We’ve got dozens of different designs of dolls. Every ethnicity, every hair type I’ve ever heard of, and a few that were news to me.”
“You’re so male,” Donna Higgs, the marketing director, muttered with a shake of her head.
Tony winked at her. “Thanks for noticing.”
Wes grinned but not at the two friends’ byplay. His company, Texas Toy Goods Inc., was going to be the most talked-about toy company in the country once these dolls hit. Marketing, under Donna’s steady hand, was already set for a huge campaign, he had the PR department set to flood social media, and a test group of kids had already proclaimed the doll a winner. After ten years of steady growth, Wes’s company was poised for a jump that would change Wes from a multimillionaire to a billionaire practically overnight.
He’d started his company on not much more than a shoestring. He had had ideas, a partner he’d managed to buy out several years ago and a small inheritance from his father. With that, and his own driving ambition, Wes built a reputation for coming up with new ways of doing things in a centuries-old industry. He was known for his innovation and creativity. Thanks to him, and the best employees in the business, they’d built on their early successes until TTG was a presence in the toy industry. And the Just Like Me doll was going to give them that one last push over the top.
Each doll was unique in its own way and was going to appeal to every child on the planet. He had visions of European distribution as well, and knew that soon Texas Toy Goods was going to be an unstoppable force in the industry. And that wasn’t even counting the upcoming merger he was working on with Teddy Bradford, the current CEO of PlayCo, or his other ventures under the Texas brand umbrella.
“So,” Wes said, bringing them back on topic, “if the parent doesn’t find exactly what they’re looking for, we’re set up for them to order specifics.”
“Absolutely.” Tony straightened up then leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. “There’ll be a kiosk in every toy department. The computer will link them to us and they can put in an order for any specific detail they need. Say, if the child has a prosthetic, we can match it. If the child has a specific disability, we’re prepared for everything. From wheelchairs to braces, we can give every child out there the feeling of being special. Having a doll in their own image. Naturally, specific orders would take a little longer...”
Wes frowned. “How much longer?”
“Negligible,” Donna put in. She checked something on her iPad and looked up at him. “I know Tony’s production, but in marketing, we’ve been working with turnaround time so we can advertise it. With the wide array of dolls already available, we can put out a special order in a couple of days.”
“That works.” Nodding now, Wes leaned back in his own chair. “Make sure the factory floor is up to speed on this, and I want a centralized area devoted only to this project.”
“Uh, boss?” Mike Stein held up one hand as if he were in class. But then, he was young and enthusiastic and would eventually get used to the more wide-open discussions Wes preferred during meetings.
“What is it?”
Mike glanced at the others before looking back at Wes. “We’ve got the ads lined up and the social media blast is ready to roll on the day.”
“Good.”
“But,” Mike added, “I know it’s not my department—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Wes told him. He liked his people being interested in all departments, not just their specialties.
“Okay. I was thinking, having a dedicated area at the factory could be problematic.”
Tony actually leaned a little toward the left, putting some distance between himself and the new guy. At least the others knew better than to tell Wes something couldn’t be done.
“Why’s that?” Wes asked calmly.
“Well, it means pulling people off the line and setting them up to handle only these special orders.”
“And?”
“Well,” Mike continued, clearly unwilling to back off the track he found himself on. Wes could give him points for having guts. “That means we have people who are standing there waiting for something to do instead of working on the line and getting actual work done.”
“What changes would you suggest?” Wes asked coolly.
Tony cleared his throat and gave a barely there shake of his head, trying to tell the kid in code to just shut up and let this one go. But Mike had the bit in his teeth now and wouldn’t drop it.
“I would leave them working on the line and pull them out when a special order came in and then—”
“I appreciate your idea,” Wes said, tapping his fingers against the gray leather blotter on his desk. “I want my people to feel free to speak up. But you’re new here, Mike, and you need to learn that at TTG, we do things a little differently. Here, the customer is always number one. We design toys and the delivery system to facilitate the people who buy our toys. So if that means we have a separate crew waiting for the special orders to come in, then that’s what we do. We’re the best. That’s what breeds success.”
“Right.” Mike nodded, swallowed hard and nodded again. “Absolutely. Sorry.”
“No problem.” Wes waved the apology away. He’d either learn from this and pick up on the way things were done at TTG, or the kid would leave and find a job somewhere else.
But damn, when did he start thinking of guys in their twenties as kids? When did Wes get ancient? He squashed that thought immediately. Hell, at thirty-four, he wasn’t old. He was just busy. Running his company ate up every moment of every damn day. He was so busy, his social life was a joke. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been with a woman. But that would come. Eventually. Right now, TTG demanded and deserved his full concentration.
Of course, his brain whispered, it hadn’t always been that way. There’d been one woman—
Wes cut all thoughts of her off at the pass. That was done. Over. He hadn’t been interested in long-term and she’d all but had marriage and children tattooed across her forehead. He’d had to end it and he wasn’t sorry. Most of the time.
Having a relationship with one of his employees hadn’t been a particularly smart move on his part. And sure, there’d been gossip and even resentment from some of his staff. But Wes hadn’t been able to resist Belle. What the two of them had shared was like nothing he’d ever known. For a time, Wes had been willing to put up with whispers at work for the pleasure of being with Belle.
But it was over. The past.
“We’ve got the accessories covered, I think,” Donna said. “When the special orders come in, we’ll be able to turn them around in a flash.”
“Good to hear. And if you don’t have it?” Wes asked.
“We’ll get it.” Donna nodded sharply. “No problem on this, boss. It’s going to work as smoothly as you expect it to. And it’s going to be the biggest doll to hit the market since the vegetable patch babies back in the ’80s.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” Wes stood up, shoved both hands into his pockets and said, “That’s all for now. Keep me in the loop.”
Tony laughed. “Boss, everybody runs everything by you.”
One corner of Wes’s mouth quirked. “Yeah. Just the way I like it. Okay, back to work.”
He watched them go, then told his assistant, Robin, to get him some fresh coffee. He’d need it once he started going through business emails. Inevitably, there were problems to walk through with suppliers, manufacturers, bankers and everyone else who either had a piece—or wanted one—of the Texas Toy Goods pie. But instead of taking a seat behind his desk, he walked across the wide office to the corner windows. The view of Houston was familiar, impressive. High-rises, glass walls reflecting sunlight that could blind a man. Thick white clouds sailing across a sky so blue it hurt the eyes.
He liked the city fine, but it wasn’t somewhere he wanted to spend too much time. At least twice a week, he made the drive in from Royal, Texas, and his home office, to oversee accounts personally and on-site. He believed in having his employees used to seeing him there. People tended to get complacent when there was an absentee boss in the picture. But if he had a choice, he’d pick Royal over Houston.
His hometown had less traffic, less noise and the best burgers in Texas at the Royal Diner. Not to mention the fact that the memories in Royal were easier to live with than the ones centered here, in his office. Just being here, he remembered late-night work sessions with the woman he refused to think about. All-night sessions that had become a blistering-hot affair that had crashed and burned the minute she whispered those three deadly words—I love you. Even after all this time, that moment infuriated him. And despite—maybe because of—how it ended, that one woman stayed in his mind, always at the edges of his thoughts.
“What is it with women?” he asked the empty room. “Everything was going fine and then she just had to ruin it.”
Of course, a boss/employee relationship wasn’t going to work for the long haul anyway, and he’d known that going in. And even with the way things had ended, he couldn’t completely regret any of it. What bothered him was that even now, five years later, thoughts of Belle kept cropping up as if his mind just couldn’t let go.
A brisk knock on the door had him shaking his head and pushing thoughts of her to the back of his mind, where, hopefully, they would stay. “Come in.”
Robin entered, carrying a tray with a single cup, a thermal carafe of coffee and a plate of cookies. He smiled. “What would I do without you?”
“Starve to death, probably,” she said. Robin was in her forties, happily married and the proud mother of four. She loved her job, was damn good at it and kept him apprised of everything going on down here when he was in Royal. If she ever threatened to quit, Wes was prepared to offer her whatever she needed to stay.
“You scared the kid today.”
Snorting a laugh as he remembered the look of sheer panic on Mike’s face, Wes sat down at his desk and poured the first of what would be several cups of coffee. “He’ll survive.”
“Yeah, he will. A little fear’s good. Builds character.”
One eyebrow lifted as Wes laughed. “Your kids must be terrified of you.”
“Me?” she asked. “Nope. I raise them tougher than that.”
Wes chuckled.
“Harry called. He’s headed into that meeting in New York. Said he’d call when he had it wrapped up.”
Harry Baker, his vice president, was currently doing all the traveling around the country, arranging for the expedited shipping the new doll line would require. “That’s good. Thanks.”
After she left, Wes sipped at his coffee, took a cookie, had a bite, then scrolled to his email account. Idly, he scanned the forty latest messages, deleting the crap. He scanned the subject lines ruthlessly, until he spotted Your secret is out.
“What the hell?” Even while a part of his mind was thinking virus or an ad for timeshares in Belize, he clicked on the message and read it. Everything in him went cold and still. The cookie turned to ash in his mouth and he drank the coffee only to wash it down.
Look where your dallying has gotten you, the email read.
Check your Twitter account. Your new handle is Deadbeatdad. So you want to be the face of a new toy empire? Family friendly? Think again.
It was signed, Maverick.
“Who the hell is Maverick and what the hell is he talking about?” There was an attachment with the email, and even though Wes had a bad feeling about all of this, he opened it. The photograph popped onto his computer screen.
He shot to his feet, the legs of his chair scraping against the polished wooden floor like a screech. Staring down at the screen, his gaze locked on the image of the little girl staring back at him. “What the—”
She looked just like him. The child had Wes’s eyes and a familiar smile and if that wasn’t enough to convince him, which it was, he focused on the necklace the girl was wearing. Before he and Belle broke up, Wes had given her a red plastic heart on a chain of plastic beads. At the time, he’d used it as a joke gift right before giving her a pair of diamond earrings.
And the little girl in the photo was wearing that red heart necklace while she smiled into the camera.
Panic and fury tangled up inside him and tightened into a knot that made him feel like he was choking. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the photo of the smiling little girl. “How does a man have a daughter and not know it?”
A daughter? How? What? Why? Who? He had a child. Judging by the picture, she looked to be four or five years old, so unless it was an old photo, there was only one woman who could be the girl’s mother. And just like that, the woman was back, front and center in his mind.
How the hell had this happened? Stupid. He knew how it had happened. What he didn’t know was why he hadn’t been told. Wes rubbed one hand along the back of his neck and didn’t even touch the tension building there. Still staring at the smiling girl on the screen, he felt the email batter away at his brain until he was forced to sit, open a new window and go to Twitter.
Somebody had hacked his account. His new handle was, as promised, Deadbeatdad. If he didn’t get this stopped fast, it would go viral and might start interfering with his business.
Instantly, Wes made some calls, reporting that his account had been hacked, then turned the mess over to his IT guys to figure out. He reported the hack and had the account shuttered, hoping to buy time. Meanwhile, he was too late to stop #Deadbeatdad from spreading. The Twitterverse was already moving on it. Now he had a child he had to find and a reputation he had to repair. Snatching up the phone, he stabbed the button for his assistant’s desk. “Robin,” he snapped. “Get Mike from PR back in here now.”
He didn’t even wait to hear her response, just slammed the phone down and went back to his computer. He brought up the image of the little girl—his daughter—again and stared at her. What was her name? Where did she live? Then thoughts of the woman who had to be the girl’s mother settled into his brain. Isabelle Gray. She’d disappeared from his life years ago—apparently with his child. Jaw tight, eyes narrowed, Wes promised himself he was going to get to the bottom of all of this and when he did...
* * *
For the next hour, everyone in PR and IT worked the situation. There was no stopping the flood of retweets, so Wes had Mike and his crew focused on finding a way to spin it. IT was tasked with tracking down this mysterious Maverick so that Wes could deal with him head-on.
Meanwhile, Wes had another problem to worry about. The merger with PlayCo, a major player in the toy industry, was something Wes had been carefully maneuvering his way toward for months. But the CEO there, Teddy Bradford, was a good old boy with rock-solid claims to family values. He’d been married to the same woman forever, had several kids and prided himself on being the flag bearer for the all-American, apple pie lifestyle.
This was going to throw a wrench of gigantic proportions into the mix. And so far, Teddy wasn’t taking any of Wes’s calls. Not a good sign.
“Uh, boss?”
“Yeah?” Wes spun around to look at one of the PR grunts. What the hell was her name? Stacy? Tracy? “What is it?”
“Teddy Bradford is holding a press conference. The news channel’s website is running it live.”
He stalked to her desk and only vaguely noticed that the others in the room had formed a half circle behind him. They were all watching as Bradford stepped up to a microphone and held his hands out in a settle-down gesture. As soon as he had quiet, he said, “After the disturbing revelations on social media this afternoon, I’m here to announce that I will be taking a step back to reevaluate my options before going through with the much anticipated merger.”
Wes ground his teeth together and fisted his hands at his sides. Teddy could play it any way he wanted to for the press, but it was easy to see the merger was, at the moment, dead. All around him, his employees took a collective breath that sounded like a gasp.
But Teddy wasn’t finished. The older man looked somber, sad, but Wes was pretty sure he caught a gleam of satisfaction in the other man’s eyes. Hell, he was probably enjoying this. Nothing the man liked better than sitting high on his righteous horse. Teddy hadn’t even bothered to take his call, preferring instead to call a damn press conference. Bastard.
“Here at PlayCo,” Teddy was saying, “we put a high priority on family values. In fact, you could say that’s the dominant trademark of my company and it always will be. A man’s family is all important—or should be. After this morning’s revelations, I have to say that clearly, Wes Jackson is not the man I’d believed him to be, and so I have some thinking to do in the next few days. As things stand now, it would take a miracle to persuade me to believe otherwise.” Questions were fired at him, cameras chattered as shutters clicked over and over again. But Teddy was done.