ANDREA LAURENCE is an award-winning author of contemporary romances filled with seduction and sass. She has been a lover of reading and writing stories since she was young. A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted into the Deep South, she is thrilled to share her special blend of sensuality and dry, sarcastic humour with readers.

USA TODAY bestselling author JANICE MAYNARD loved books and writing even as a child. But it took multiple rejections before she sold her first manuscript. Since 2002, she has written over forty-five books and novellas. Janice lives in east Tennessee with her husband, Charles. They love hiking, travelling and spending time with family.

You can connect with Janice at:

www.janicemaynard.com, Twitter.com/janicemaynard, Facebook.com/janicemaynardreaderpage, Facebook.com/janicesmaynard Instagram.com/janicemaynard.

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.

Saving His Blackmailed Lover

Expecting the Billionaire’s Baby

Andrea Laurence

Triplets for the Texan

Janice Maynard

A Texas-Sized Secret

Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09618-8

SAVING HIS BLACKMAILED LOVER

Expecting The Billionaire’s Baby © 2017 Harlequin Books S.A. Triplets For The Texan © 2017 Harlequin Books S.A. A Texas-Sized Secret © 2017 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

Expecting the Billionaire’s Baby

Back Cover Text

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Triplets for the Texan

Back Cover Text

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

A Texas-Sized Secret

Back Cover Text

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

About the Publisher

Expecting the Billionaire’s Baby

Andrea Laurence

A Texas-size pregnancy surprise!

Cecelia Morgan needs to take her business to the next level, and decorating the new luxury resort in Royal, Texas, is just the ticket. But at the meeting to pitch her designs, she comes face-to-face with Deacon Chase, her former flame from the wrong side of the tracks who grew up to be a billionaire hotelier. Turns out he’s the silent partner in this project. Their chemistry is off the charts. Too bad she’s spoken for.

But when the blackmailer terrorizing the Texas Cattleman’s Club targets Cecelia, revealing a past secret that ruins her present engagement, she turns to Deacon for comfort...only to soon be expecting!

To My Fellow TCC Authors—

I loved sharing a little blackmail between friends.

Looking forward to working with you all again!

And To Our Super Editor Charles—

If you can keep up with all twelve stories, you’re

officially a superhero. I’m going to buy you a cape.

Maybe some tights.

One

“You can do this, Cecelia.”

Cecelia Morgan attempted to encourage herself as she looked over her portfolio for the hundredth time. Tomorrow, she was presenting her design plans to the board of directors of the new Bellamy Hotel. This was a big step for her and her company, To the Moon. The company she started after college specialized in children’s furniture, bedding and toys. From the beginning she had targeted a high-end market, catering to wealthy parents who were looking for luxury products for their children.

The company had been a success from the very start. What had begun as a small online boutique had exploded into a series of stores across the United States after a celebrity posted on social media about how much they loved one of TTM’s nursery designs. Cecelia had been forced to open her own production facility and warehouse outside her hometown of Royal, Texas, to keep up with the demand.

The portfolio on the desk in front of her, however, could take To the Moon to the next level. Designing furniture, toys and accessories for pampered little ones had been her first love, but now Cecelia was ready for her business to mature along with her tastes. The Bellamy Hotel was her chance to make this a reality.

The Bellamy was a brand-new five-star resort opening right outside Royal. Owner Shane Delgado had contacted Cecelia about decorating and furnishing the hotel about a month ago, after a previous designer had been fired well into the process. This would be a big step for Cecelia. If she could secure the contract with The Bellamy, it would give her the footing she needed to branch out into the luxury adult furniture market.

As her daddy always said, if you’re not moving forward, you might as well be moving backward. She was successful, but that wasn’t enough for the Morgans. Her subsidiary of To the Moon—Luna Fine Furnishings—could change everything for her.

She was shocked that Shane had reached out to her, given he was pretty clear he’d dismissed her as part of the mean girls clique, along with her best friends Simone and Naomi. Admittedly, she wasn’t very nice to his girlfriend Brandee and recent gossip had been less than flattering about Cecelia and her friends. Some even suspected them of being behind the recent blackmailings. Shane was taking a huge leap of faith inviting her to submit her ideas for this incredible opportunity; she wasn’t about to screw this up.

Cecelia gathered up everything into her portfolio binder and slipped it into her leather briefcase. She’d probably gone over it a hundred times already. She needed to stop fiddling with it and just let it lie. It was perfect. Some of her best work yet. As usual, she was putting too much pressure on herself. Her parents certainly didn’t help matters. They always held Cecelia, their only child, to very high standards and never accepted anything less than perfection.

She supposed that was why she was so successful. Brent and Tilly Morgan were practically Texas royalty and had raised their daughter to follow in their footsteps. She went to the best private schools, rode horses and competed in dressage in high school, and went on to graduate summa cum laude with a business degree from a prestigious Ivy League university. Anything less for the younger Morgan would’ve been unacceptable.

While her parents had been supportive both emotionally and financially when it came to her company, Cecelia always worried that their support came at a price. If Luna Fine Furnishings wasn’t the success that she hoped for, she might never hear the end of it. The last thing she needed was for her father to pat her on the back and tell her that maybe she needed to just stick with the baby things. You know...woman stuff. Or worse yet, to hand the business over to someone else and focus on settling down with Chip Ashford to make actual babies instead of baby furniture.

She wasn’t opposed to settling down with Chip—he was her fiancé after all—but she certainly didn’t want to throw away everything that she’d worked for in the process. Chip was a Texas senator, and he had been very supportive of her business so far. But Cecelia got the feeling that once they got married, Chip might feel the same way as her parents did.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want kids. Cecelia wanted her own children more than anything. But she was confident that she could be both a mother and the CEO of her own company. She didn’t intend to set one ambition aside for the other.

A chime sounded on Cecelia’s phone. She reached for it and tapped the screen to open up the Snapchat notification she’d just received for a private message. It took her a moment to realize what she was actually looking at. The picture was of a document with small text, but the header at the top brought a sinking feeling to her stomach. It read “Certificate of Birth” with the seal of the state of Texas on the bottom corner. The message across the screen was far more worrisome.

Somebody has got a secret.

Cecelia looked once more at the photo before it disappeared. It was then that she realized that this wasn’t just any birth certificate, it was her original birth certificate. The one issued before she was adopted by the Morgans.

For a moment, Cecelia almost couldn’t breathe. Her adoption had always been kept a secret. Everyone, including members of her extended family, believed that Cecelia was Brent and Tilly’s biological daughter. Even Cecelia had believed it until her thirteenth birthday. That night, they’d told her that she was adopted but that they had kept it a secret for her own protection. The unfortunate truth was that her birth mother had been a junkie, and child services had taken Cecelia away from her when she was only a few weeks old. Her mother had overdosed not long after that, and she was put up for adoption. The Morgans thought that it was best if Cecelia’s birth mother and that dark past were kept secret.

But someone had found out.

Cecelia didn’t know how—she hadn’t even seen her original birth certificate before. A new one had been issued when her adoption was finalized, so someone had done some serious sleuthing to find it.

Another image popped up on her screen. This one was a message written in letters cut from magazines like some sort of ransom note. She supposed that in some way, it was a ransom note. It demanded that twenty-five thousand dollars be wired to an account within twenty-four hours or her secret would be exposed to the entire town. It was signed, Maverick.

Considering everything that had been happening in Royal, Texas, lately, she should’ve known she would be targeted eventually. Maverick had been wreaking havoc on the lives of Royal residents for the past few months. This anonymous blackmailer had been the talk of the town, and everyone at the Texas Cattleman’s Club had suspicions about who it could be. The most recent suspects had been Cecelia herself, along with Naomi and Simone.

Cecelia was a busy woman. She ran her own business, served as arm candy for her fiancé’s various political events, was busy keeping up appearances for her parents and for Chip... She hardly had time in her schedule to get a manicure, much less to research and dig up dirt on her fellow residents. Her busy schedule and high standards made her come off as a bit snobbish, and Cecelia supposed she was, but she was no blackmailer. Unfortunately, the only way to prove it was to let everyone know that she was Maverick’s latest victim.

That certainly wasn’t an option. She couldn’t have the whole town knowing that her entire life was a lie.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t just her secret. Her parents had built their lives around their perfect “biological” daughter. They’d lied to countless family members and friends to keep up the charade, but they’d only done it to protect her. Paying Maverick was probably the only way to shield Brent and Tilly from the fallout.

But hers wasn’t the only family she had to worry about. The Ashfords would have a fit. Chip came from a certain kind of family, and he believed that Cecelia was cut from the same cloth. Would Chip call off the engagement if he found out the truth? Their relationship was more about appearances and family alliances than love, but she hoped that Chip cared enough about her not to throw everything away if her secret got out. As far as she was concerned, she was a Morgan, through and through.

And as a Morgan, it was her responsibility to safeguard her and her family’s reputation, or tomorrow’s presentation would go down in flames. Her reputation where Shane was concerned was hanging on by a thread as it was. Surely, he wouldn’t want a scandal to interfere with his hotel’s grand opening.

But when did it stop? Would Maverick be content with the first payment, or would he drag this out until Cecelia was broke and her business was bankrupted?

Cecelia clutched her head in her hands and fought off a pending migraine. She’d suddenly found herself stuck between a rock and a hard place, and there was no easy way out of this. She either paid Maverick, or the truth of her adoption would be spread all over town. The clock was ticking.

She wasn’t sure what her path forward would be, but Cecelia knew what she was doing next. In her life whenever a crisis arose, Cecelia always called her daddy. This conversation, however, was one that needed to be had in person. She didn’t know how Maverick had found out about her adoption, but if her phone lines were tapped or her computer was being monitored, she couldn’t risk anything but face-to-face communication.

* * *

It took Cecelia over an hour for her to reach her parents’ mansion outside Houston. It was nearly ten o’clock by the time she arrived, but her parents would still be awake. As expected, she found her father sitting in his library. He was reading a book and smoking one of his favorite cigars.

Brent Morgan looked up in surprise when he noticed his daughter standing in the doorway of his library. “What are you doing here, sweetheart? Your mother didn’t tell me were stopping by tonight.”

Cecelia took a few steps into her father’s favorite room and took a seat in the leather chair across from him. “She doesn’t know I’m here. I’m in trouble, Daddy.”

Furrowing his brow, he set aside his book and stubbed out his cigar. “What is it? Are you and Chip having problems?”

“No, this isn’t about Chip.” With a sigh, Cecelia told her father about the message she had received. His expression had morphed from concerned, to angry, to anxious as she spoke. “I’ve got twenty-four hours to wire them twenty-five thousand dollars, or everyone is going to know the truth.”

“Our family can’t afford a scandal like this. And imagine the pain this would bring to the Ashfords. Surely this isn’t what you want. You’re just going to have to pay him,” he said, matter-of-factly.

Cecelia hated being put in a position where she had no options, and being under Maverick’s thumb was the last place she wanted to be. The only real way to combat blackmail was by exposing the truth before the attacker could. If they beat Maverick to the punch they could put their own spin on her adoption and why they’d lied about it.

“Are you sure, Daddy? I mean, I know you and Mother were trying to protect me, but I’m a grown woman now. I’d rather the story not get out. However, would it be the end of the world if people discovered I was adopted? Does it change anything, really?”

“It absolutely does!” her father said with his face flushing red, making his salt-and-pepper hair appear more starkly white against his skin. “We’ve lied to everyone we know for thirty years. This would ruin our reputation. And what would the Ashfords think? They wouldn’t understand. Neither would my customers or my friends. I could lose business. Hell, you could get thrown out of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. It’s social suicide, and your mother’s heart couldn’t take the scandal. No,” he insisted. “This stays a secret. Period. I will loan you the money if you need it to pay the blackmailer, but you will pay him.”

Cecelia noted the finality in her father’s tone. It had been the same when she was an unruly child, the same when she was a teenager testing her boundaries. She was an adult now, but Brent Morgan was still in charge. She didn’t have the nerve to go against him then, and she certainly didn’t have the nerve to do it now. She’d come here for his advice, and she’d be a fool not to take it.

“No, I have the money. I’ll make the transfer in the morning. I just hope it is enough to put an end to all of this.”

“It has to be,” her father said. “I refuse to have our family turned into laughingstocks.”

Cecelia sighed in resignation and got up from her seat. “I’ll take care of it, Daddy.”

* * *

Deacon Chase turned his restored 1965 Corvette Stingray down the main street of Royal, Texas. It’d been thirteen years since he’d looked at this town in his rearview mirror and swore he’d never set foot in this narrow-minded, Texas dust trap again. The whole flight over from France, he questioned why he was coming back. Yes, it was good business, and working with his old friend from high school, Shane Delgado, had always been a pleasant experience. But when Shane mentioned that he wanted to build a resort in their hometown of Royal, he should have passed.

Then again, when else would he get the chance to show the town and the people who rejected him that he was better than them? Sure, back then he’d just been a poor kid with few prospects. He was the son of a grocery store clerk and the local car mechanic. He’d gotten to go to private school with all the rich kids only because his parents had been adamant that Deacon make something of himself, and they’d put every dime they had toward his schooling. Even then he had worked in the cafeteria to bridge the gap in tuition. Nobody else had expected much out of him, and those were the people who even acknowledged he existed. As far as most the residents of Royal were concerned, Deacon had never fit in, never would fit in and needed to accept his station in life.

No one had expected him to take his hobby of restoring cars and parlay the skills and money into restoring houses. They certainly hadn’t expected him to take the profit from those houses and put it into renovating hotels. Now the kid who worked in the cafeteria was a billionaire and the owner of the most glamorous resort in Cannes, France, the Hotel de Rêve, among others.

The only person in Royal who had ever believed in him was Cecelia. Back in high school, she’d pushed him to be the best person he could be. Considering that she’d held herself to such high standards, he’d been flattered that she saw so much potential in him when most of the people in high school either ignored him or taunted him. Cecelia had said he was a diamond in the rough. Her diamond in the rough.

It’d certainly blown the minds of all the boys at school that Cecelia had chosen Deacon instead of one of them. What could he offer her after all? A free carton of milk with her lunch? It turned out that he’d had plenty to offer her. He could still remember how many hours they’d spent lying in the back of his pickup truck talking. Kissing. Dreaming aloud about their future together. Deacon and Cecelia had had big plans for their lives after graduation.

Step one had been to get the hell out of Royal, Texas. Step two had been to live happily-ever-after.

As Deacon came to a stop at the traffic light at the intersection of Main Street and First Avenue, he shook his head in disgust. He had been a fool to think any of that would ever happen. He might have fancy hotels and expensive suits, sports cars and a forty-foot yacht docked in the French Riviera, but Deacon knew, and everybody else knew, that Cecelia was too good for him.

It hadn’t taken long for Cecelia to figure that out, too.

The light turned green, and Deacon continued down the road to where his father’s old garage used to be. When he’d made his first million, Deacon had moved his parents out of Royal and into a nice subdivision in central Florida. There, they could enjoy their early retirement without the meddling of the snooty residents of Royal. His father had sold the shop, and now a new shopping center was sitting where it used to be. A lot had changed in the last thirteen years.

Deacon couldn’t help but wonder how much Cecelia had changed. He tried not to cyberstalk her, but from time to time he couldn’t help looking over the Houston society pages to see what she was up to. The grainy black-and-white pictures hardly did her beauty justice, he was certain. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a young woman, barely eighteen. Even then, Deacon had been certain that she was the most beautiful woman he would ever see in person. He would bet that time had been kind to his Cecelia.

Not that it mattered. The most recent article he’d stumbled across in the paper had included the announcement of her engagement to Chip Ashford. He remembered Chip from high school. He was a rich, entitled, first-class douche bag. Deacon was fairly certain that that hadn’t changed, but if Cecelia was willing to marry him, she certainly wasn’t the girl that he remembered. Back then, she’d hardly given Chip the time of day.

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan must be so proud of her now. She’d finally made a respectable choice in a man.

Turning off the main drag, Deacon headed down the narrow country road out of Royal that led to his latest real estate acquisition. The rustic yet luxurious lodge that was to serve as his home base in the area stood on three acres of wooded land several miles outside town. He’d bought the property sight unseen when he decided to take on The Bellamy project with Shane. He couldn’t be happier with the place. It was very much his style, although it was a far cry from the elegant European architecture and design that he’d become accustomed to.

He hadn’t really needed to buy the home. Deacon had no real intention of staying in Royal any longer than he had to. But the businessman in him had a hard time passing up a good deal, and it seemed a shame to throw money away on renting a place while they built the hotel. He had no regrets. It was his happy retreat, away from the society jungles of Royal.

When he pulled up in front of the lodge, he was surprised to find Shane Delgado’s truck parked out front. Deacon parked the Corvette in his garage, then stepped out front to meet his friend and business partner.

Deacon hadn’t had many friends back in school. Basically none. But his side business of buying and restoring cars had drawn Shane’s attention. Shane had actually bought Deacon’s very first restoration, a 1975 cherry-red Ford pickup truck with white leather seats. Deacon had been damn proud of that truck, especially when Shane had handed over the cash for it without questioning his asking price. They’d bonded then over a mutual love of cars and had continued to keep in touch over the years. When they both ended up in the real estate development business, it was natural for them to consider working together on a few projects.

“What’s wrong now?” Deacon asked as he joined Shane at the bottom of his front steps.

While the construction of The Bellamy had gone relatively smoothly, Deacon was the silent partner. Shane bothered him with details only when something had gone awry. He joked with Shane once that he was getting to the point that he dreaded the sight of his friend’s face.

“For once,” Shane said with a smile, “I’m just here to hang out and have a drink with my friend. Everything at the hotel is going splendidly. Tomorrow, Cecelia Morgan will be presenting her designs to the board, based on your recommendation. Assuming we like what Cecelia did, and I hope I’m not going too far out on a limb here, we’ll be moving forward and getting that much closer to opening the hotel.”

Deacon slapped his friend on the back of the shoulder. “I wouldn’t have brought her on board if I didn’t think she was the best designer for the job. Come on in,” he said as they started up the massive stone stairs to the front door. “Have you eaten?” he asked as they made their way into his office for a drink.

Shane nodded. “I have. Brandee is constantly feeding me. By the end of the year, I’m going to weigh three hundred pounds.”

“You’re a lucky man,” Deacon said as he poured them both a couple of fingers of whiskey over ice. Shane had recently gotten involved with Brandee Lawless, the owner of the nearby Hope Springs Ranch. She was a tiny blonde spitfire, and one hell of a cook. “I’d be happy to have Brandee feeding me every night.”

“I bet you would,” Shane said. “But you need to just stick with your cultured European women.”

Deacon chuckled at his friend’s remark. He had certainly taken advantage of the local delicacies while he was in Europe. Even though it’d been years since he and Cecelia had broken up, it had soothed his injured pride to have a line of beautiful and exotic women waiting for their chance to be with him. He would never admit to anyone, especially Shane, that not a one of them held a candle to Cecelia in his mind.

Deacon and Shane sat there together, sipping their drinks and enjoying each other’s company. They didn’t get a lot of opportunities to just hang out anymore. Deacon’s office, however, just begged for gentlemen to spend time in comfortable chairs and shoot the shit. The walls were lined with shelves containing leather-bound books that, frankly, came with the house and Deacon would never read. They did create a nice atmosphere, though, along with the oil paintings of landscapes and cattle that hung there. It was all very masculine Texas style.

“Can I ask you something?” Shane asked.

“Sure. What?”

“You do know that Cecelia’s business specializes in children’s furniture, right?”

Deacon tensed in his chair. Perhaps his office made Shane too comfortable, since he felt like prying into Deacon’s motivations for wanting Cecelia for the job. “Yeah, I know. I also know that she’s managed to turn her small company into a furniture and accessories juggernaut since she started it. She’s always had a good eye for design.”

“She does, I won’t argue that. But hiring her to decorate The Bellamy is a huge risk. She and Brandee aren’t exactly fans of each other. And what if she and her friends are actually behind the cyberattacks? That’s not the kind of publicity we’d want for our hotel. I don’t have to remind you how much we stand to lose if our gamble doesn’t pay off.”

“That’s why we just asked her to submit a proposal along with the two other design firms. We haven’t hired anybody yet. If she’s out of her depth in this, or acts suspicious in any way, we thank her for her time and send her on her way. It’s not ideal, but not the end of the world, either.”

Shane narrowed his gaze at him. He obviously suspected that Deacon had ulterior motives in wanting Cecelia involved in the project. Deacon understood. He wasn’t entirely sure that he didn’t.

“I’m not sold on either of the other firm’s designs. She’s last to present, so if she flops tomorrow, it’s going to set the project back weeks while we find yet another designer and they start from scratch. We have hotel bookings starting day one. Every delay costs us money.”

Deacon just nodded. He was well aware that he was taking a risk. But for some reason, he had to do it. Perhaps he was a glutton for punishment. Perhaps he was looking for any excuse to see her again. He wasn’t sure. The only thing he was sure of was that everything would turn out fine. “Relax, Shane. The project will finish on time and on budget with the amazing decor you’re hoping for.”

“And how do you know that?” Shane asked, sounding unconvinced.

“Because,” Deacon said confidently, “Cecelia hasn’t failed at anything in her entire life. She’s not going to start now.”

Two

“Welcome, Miss Morgan. Please have a seat.”

Cecelia took two steps into the boardroom and stopped short as she recognized the man’s voice. She looked up and found herself staring into the green-and-gold eyes of her past. She couldn’t take a single step farther. Her heart stuttered as her mind raced to make sense of what she was seeing. It wasn’t possible that Deacon Chase, her first love, was sitting at the head of the boardroom table beside Shane Delgado.

Deacon had disappeared from Royal almost immediately after they graduated from high school. No one in town had seen or heard a word from him since then. She remembered being told that his parents had moved to Florida, and she had occasionally wondered what he had made of himself, but she hadn’t had the heart to look him up and find out. She knew that it was best to keep Deacon a part of her past, and yet here he was, a critical element to the success of her future.

Cecelia realized she was standing awkwardly at the entrance to the conference room with the entire board of directors staring at her. She snapped out of it, pasting a wide smile on her face and walking to the front of the room where an empty seat was waiting for her. Beside him.

“Thank you, everyone, for having me here today. I’m very pleased to have the opportunity to present my designs for The Bellamy Hotel to the board. I’m really in love with what I have put together for you all today, and I hope it meets your expectations.”

Deacon’s cold gaze followed her around the room to where she had taken her seat, but she tried not to let it get to her. The man had every reason to hate her, so she shouldn’t expect anything less.

She knew that Shane had a silent partner in The Bellamy project, but she’d never dreamed that it would be Deacon. She had a hard time believing it was even Deacon sitting there, considering how much he’d changed since she saw him last.

His lanky teenaged body had grown into itself, with broad shoulders and muscular arms that strained against the fabric of his expensively tailored navy suit. His jaw was more square and hardened now, as though he was trying to hold in the venomous words he had for her. The lines etched around his eyes and into his furrowed brow made it look like he didn’t smile much anymore.

That made Cecelia sad. The Deacon she remembered had been full of life, despite the miserable hand that he had been dealt as a child. Back in high school, he’d had so much potential in him, Cecelia just couldn’t wait to see what he was going to do with his future.

Now she knew. It appeared as though Deacon had done extremely well for himself. He had gone from the kid working in the cafeteria to the man who held her future in his hands.

Opening her portfolio, she sorted through her papers and prepared to give the presentation she had practiced repeatedly since Shane had called and offered her a chance to bid on the job. She pulled out several watercolor renderings of the designs, placing them on the easel behind her. Then, taking a deep breath and looking at everyone but Deacon, Cecelia began her presentation.

It was easy for her to get lost in the details of her plan for the hotel. Discussing fabric choices, wooden furnishing pieces, style and design was what she knew best. She had a very distinct point of view that she wanted to express for The Bellamy to separate it from all the other high-class resorts in the Houston area.

Judging by the smiles and nods of the people sitting around the conference room table, she had hit it out of the park. The only person who looked less than impressed, of course, was Deacon. His eyes still focused on her like lasers, but his expression was unreadable.

“Does anyone have any questions?” She looked around the room, ready to field any of the board’s concerns. No one spoke up.

Shane finally stood up and walked around the table to shake Cecelia’s hand. “Thank you so much, Cecelia,” he said with an oddly relieved smile on his face. “I admit I was reluctant to believe you were the right designer for the job, but I must say I’m very impressed. You’ve done a great job. You’re the last to present your designs, so we will have to discuss your proposal, and then we will get back to you about contracts. If we decide to go with Luna Fine Furnishings, how long do you think it will be before you can start work on the hotel?”

Her heart was pounding, but whether it was from Shane’s question or Deacon being mere inches away, she couldn’t say. “I have already started putting the major furniture pieces into production at my manufacturing facility,” Cecelia said. Several of the designs were tweaks of her existing furniture, and it was easy to get them started. “I also put in an order for the fabric, and it should arrive tomorrow. I took the risk, hoping that you would accept my proposal. If you don’t like what I’ve done, I’m going to have to find a new home for about two hundred and fifty dressers.”

The people around the table chuckled. Shane just smiled. “A risk-taker. I like it. Well, hopefully we will find a good home for all those dressers. We hope to open the resort by the end of the month. Do you think you can make that happen?”

By the end of the month? Cecelia’s stomach started to ache with dread. Even with construction complete, that was an extremely tight schedule. Two hundred and fifty suites in a month! Although she was expecting the fabric for the curtains and upholstered chairs, it would still take time to make the pieces. She wasn’t about to say no, however. She could sleep when April was over. “Absolutely. We may have to have our craftsmen working around the clock to get all the pieces together and the wallpaper on the walls, but I think we can make it happen.”

Cecelia tried to keep her focus on Shane, but Deacon’s appraising gaze kept drawing her attention away. He still wasn’t smiling like everyone else. But he wasn’t glaring at her angrily anymore, either. Now he was just watching. Thinking, processing. She had no idea what was going on inside Deacon’s brain because he hadn’t spoken since he welcomed her into the room. Part of her wished she knew. Part of her didn’t.

“That all sounds great. If you will give us just a few minutes, we’re going to meet and will be right with you. Would you mind waiting in the lobby?”

“Not at all.” Cecelia gathered her things up into her portfolio and, with a smile, stepped out of the room. The moment she shut the door behind her she felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Somehow, having that wall between her and Deacon seemed to make a difference. Thankfully, his laser-like vision couldn’t reach her through the drywall and the expensive wallpaper of Shane’s offices.

No question, he had rattled her. He’d probably intended to. After everything she’d done to Deacon, she deserved it. For the first time, she started to doubt that she would land this job. Yes, Shane had personally approached her about it, but perhaps Deacon had agreed to it just so he could have the opportunity to reject her the way she’d rejected him all those years ago.

She poured herself a glass of water at the nearby beverage station and took a seat, waiting anxiously for their decision. She was surprised they were moving so quickly, but if they needed the hotel done by the end of the month, there really wasn’t a choice. She was the last designer to present her ideas, so the time to decide was here.

About ten minutes later, the door opened and a flow of board members exited the room. Cecelia waited patiently until her name was called and then stepped back into the conference room. The only person left in there was Deacon. She struggled to maintain her professional composure as she waited for him to finally speak to her. Now that they were alone, she was expecting him to lay into her about why she didn’t deserve the job.

Instead, he smiled politely and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. “I won’t prolong the torture, Ms. Morgan. The bottom line is that everyone is very pleased with your designs and the direction that you’d like to take for The Bellamy. Shane has gone upstairs to have our contracts department write up something, and we will have it couriered over to your offices as soon as it’s ready. Presuming, of course, that you will accept the job.”

She’d be crazy not to. The budget that Shane had discussed with her was more than enough to cover materials and labor expenses and provide a tidy profit for her to add to her company’s bottom line. She and her team would be working hard to earn it, but the very future of Luna Fine Furnishings was riding on the success of this project. No simply wasn’t an option. She didn’t want to seem too eager, however, especially where Deacon was concerned. “I’m happy to hear that you’re pleased. I look forward to reviewing the contracts and touching base with you and Shane.”

He nodded. “I understand the schedule is a bit hectic. The ground floor of the hotel has a business suite with several offices available for future hotel management. We’re happy to offer you an on-site office location to help you better manage your team and their progress.”

That would help. Especially if there was a cot in it where she could sleep. Perhaps she could finish a room so she could stay in it. “That would be lovely, thank you.” She hesitated a moment before she spoke again. “May I ask you something?”

Deacon raised his brow in curiosity. “Of course.”

She knew she should take the offer and run, but she wanted to know why they’d chosen her. Why he’d chosen her. “I am very grateful for this opportunity, but I’m curious as to why you chose to go with me instead of an established design firm. I’m sure you’re aware that I’ve specialized in nursery and children’s furnishings for the last few years. This is my first foray in adult luxury design.”

Deacon nodded and thought over his response. “Shane and I requested your proposal because we knew the quality would be high. To the Moon is known for producing the best you can buy for a child’s room. There’s no reason for us to believe it would be any different with your adult designs. You’re the best at whatever you choose to do, Cecelia. You always were.”

There was a flicker of pain in his eyes as he spoke, but it was quickly masked by the return of his cold indifference to her. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, before turning and marching quickly from the conference room.

Cecelia was left standing there, a little shell-shocked from their encounter. He said she was the best at what she did, but she could read between the lines—except when it came to us. She excelled in business but was a miserable failure when it came to love.

Deacon might be willing to hire her to do a job she was well capable of, but it was clear that he wasn’t about to forgive her for what she’d done to him.

* * *

Deacon had made a mistake.

The minute Cecelia had strolled into that conference room, it had felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach. He’d tried to maintain the appearance of the confident, arrogant businessman, but on the inside he felt anything but. His chest was constricted, and he couldn’t breathe. His heart was racing like he was in the middle of a marathon. He had thought he would be immune to her after all this time, but he was wrong.

Cecelia had been wearing a smart, tailored ivory-and-gold suit that accented every curve of her womanly figure. That certainly wasn’t the body he remembered. She was still petite, but she had grown up quite a bit since he saw her last. He was still attempting to recover from the tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage at the V of her blouse when she smiled at him and flipped her long blond curls casually over her shoulder.

Instantly, he knew he was lost.

What the hell was he thinking coming back here? And an even better question, why had he insisted that Shane give Cecelia the opportunity to compete for the design job? He had all but guaranteed that he would come face-to-face with her like this. It was a terrible idea.

Cecelia had begun her presentation talking about fabrics and furniture details he really didn’t give a damn about. He’d hardly heard a word she said. His mind was clouded with the scent of her perfume, reminding him of hot nights in the back of his pickup truck. It was the same scent she’d worn in high school. He’d had to save up for two months to be able to afford a bottle of it for her birthday.

Now all he could think about was her naked, willing body sprawled out beneath his own, his nose buried in her throat, drawing her scent deep into his lungs. They had dated for only six months during their senior year, but they had been some of the best months of his life. Deacon hadn’t been sure what he was going to do with his life or if he was ever going to make something of himself, but he instantly knew that he wanted Cecelia to be a part of his future. He couldn’t remember how many times they’d made love, but he knew it hadn’t been enough.

Looking at her during the presentation, as she’d gestured toward a watercolor rendering of a guest suite, all he could see was the younger Cecelia sitting on his tailgate smiling at him.

Suddenly, every muscle in his body had tensed, every nerve firing sparks of need through him. Occasionally, Cecelia’s gaze would flick over him and his throat threatened to close. He’d gripped the arm of his executive chair, trying to ground himself and calm down. It had been no way to act during a professional board meeting. If she had finished her briefing early, he wouldn’t have been able to stand up to thank her without embarrassing himself.

Deacon thought that returning to Royal as a successful real estate developer would change things. But every ounce of cockiness and confidence seemed to fly out the window the moment he’d laid eyes on Cecelia. Suddenly, he was an awkward teenager again. His old insecurities washed over him. He hadn’t been good enough for her then, and for some reason he didn’t feel good enough for her even now.

Of course, it hadn’t helped that their last conversation on graduation night had been her breaking up with him. He didn’t know exactly what had made her change her mind. Up until that point, she’d been very enthusiastic about their plans and their future together. Then, suddenly, she’d turned a one-eighty on him and walked away.

Deacon had always known he wasn’t the kind of boy the Morgans wanted for their daughter. He didn’t come from a good family, he was poor and he worked with his hands. He was certain that Brent and Tilly were thrilled that Cecelia had chosen someone like Chip Ashford, former captain of the football team, Texas senator, son of one of the most respected and wealthy families in Houston. He had a bright future ahead of him, no doubt.

Damn him for putting himself in this position, knowing he would be drawn to Cecelia as he always had been, but once again unable to have what he wanted.

He had to remind himself that he hadn’t returned to Royal to seduce Cecelia. That wasn’t why he’d asked her to do this presentation, either. He had come back to prove to her, and everyone else in the small-minded little town, that he was better than them. To show them that he could take his humble beginnings and still manage to create an empire faster than any of them could manage to inherit. He’d come back to make Cecelia regret her decision. To make the Morgans regret their decision. Nothing more.

When he completed his mission and opened his new hotel, Deacon would return to Europe, indulge his vices and forget all about the cliquish and unimportant people of Royal, Texas.

Well, he doubted he’d forget about Cecelia.

He’d only thought it was hard being around Cecelia while she did her presentation. Being alone with her had been agonizing. What was he going to do now that she would be working at his hotel nonstop until it opened? He wouldn’t be able to get away from her even if he wanted to. And he didn’t.

He felt like an idiot as he strolled down the hallway to the office Shane had provided for him while he was in town. He felt like he’d run away from Cecelia. He should’ve been more confident, indifferent, as though she’d had no impact on him at all.

Just as he sat down at his desk, Shane appeared in his doorway. “A successful day, I’d say! We not only have a hotel, but the guests won’t be sleeping on the floor. What do you say we go down to the Texas Cattleman’s Club and celebrate with a drink?”

Deacon arched a brow at his friend. He’d never set foot in that building before. He hadn’t even been good enough to clean their pool back in high school. “I’m not a member,” he pointed out. “And I’m sure there are plenty of people in the club who would see to it that I never get to be one of them.”

Shane dismissed him. “You are certainly welcome as my guest. And if you really wanted to be in the club I could sponsor you. I’m sure few people would have the nerve to speak up against me. Lately, the uproar has been more about the Maverick scandals, and I’m pretty sure that doesn’t involve you. Aside from that, there are still a few folks sore that women can become members of the club. You should’ve heard some of the bitching when the billiards room was converted to a day care. I’m sure they’d be happy to admit you and counteract the appearance that it’s turning into a henhouse instead of a clubhouse.”

Deacon had never entertained the idea of joining the club. And all things considered, he really didn’t want anything to do with an organization that had just decided in the past few years that women were worthy of participating. But he wouldn’t be rude about it because he knew Shane was a member and enjoyed it. “No thanks. I think I’m going to finish up a few things here and call it a night. There is a T-bone steak in the fridge that’s begging to be grilled tonight, and I can’t disappoint it.”

Shane smiled. “Okay, if you insist. But I’m going to drag you down there one day, though.”

“Why? What’s so great about a bunch of people sitting around in cowboy hats—which I don’t own—talking about cattle and horses—which I’m not interested in?”

“Well, for one thing, the restaurant makes the finest steaks you’ll ever eat. The bartenders pour a perfectly balanced dry martini. It’s a nice place to hang out, have a drink and chat with friends.”

Deacon supposed that to anyone else, it would sound very inviting. “Well, you’re my only friend in town, so again, I’ll pass. You go on and eat a finely prepared steak on my behalf.”

Shane finally gave up, nodding and throwing up a hand in goodbye.

Deacon watched him go, relieved that he managed to get out of dinner. He had many reasons for avoiding the clubhouse, but the biggest one was Cecelia and Chip. He knew that both of them were members, and he had no interest in running into either of them tonight. Not after she’d spent the afternoon twisting his insides into knots.

No, he needed a little time before he saw Cecelia again. He needed to remind himself how badly she’d hurt him and how much he wanted her to regret what she’d done. To keep his head on straight, he had to stay away from her.

A steak, a stiff drink and a Netflix binge would do it.

He hoped.

Three

When Cecelia got back to her office later that afternoon, she found a giddy Simone waiting for her in the lobby. Cecelia loved Simone, she was one of her best friends in the whole world, but after the day she’d had—hell, after the week she’d had—she wasn’t really in the mood. She had to jump on this Bellamy job right away if they were going to make the grand opening deadline.

Simone obviously didn’t care, ignoring the stressed-out vibes Cecelia knew she was sending out. She followed Cecelia down the halls of To the Moon to her private office. “Have you heard the latest news?” Simone asked after she slipped into the room behind her.

Cecelia dropped her things down on her desk and plopped, exhausted, into her chair. “Nope. There’s news?”

Simone rubbed her hands together in excitement and rushed over to sit on the edge of her desk. “So,” she began, “word is that Maverick is at it again. A message went out on social media to everybody in the Texas Cattleman’s Club today.”

Cecelia held her breath as she waited to hear the latest news. She’d been too busy with The Bellamy project to check her phone. Had Maverick taken her money and spread her secret anyway? “So, what did the message say?”

Simone pulled her cell out of her purse and flipped through it to find the message. Locating it, she handed the phone over to Cecelia. The message was short and blessedly vague. It read: Someone in the Texas Cattleman’s Club is not who they say they are.

Cecelia shrugged it off and handed the mobile back to Simone, feigning disinterest. “That’s hardly big news. I’d say half the people there aren’t who they pretend to be.”

Simone returned her phone to her bag. “And to think that folks still believe we’re the ones behind the attacks!”

“I have to say I’m thankful this last message went out when I couldn’t possibly have sent it. I’ve got a room full of witnesses.”

Simone just shrugged. “That doesn’t mean they don’t still think Naomi and I are the culprits, that we’re all in on it together. If I had the time, I just might be the kind to do it. You’ve got to give the guy credit. Royal has been pretty dull lately. Maverick has brought more excitement to town in the last few months than we’ve had since the tornados hit.”

Excitement? Cecelia certainly wouldn’t consider extortion or extreme weather exciting. They were both terrifying in their own right. “You know, you might not want to act so excited when that stuff comes out. It makes us look guilty.”

“Hey, I thought you would enjoy this more. What’s wrong with you today? You don’t seem like your usual self.”

Cecelia wanted to shout, “Because the real Maverick is blackmailing me! That message was about me!” But she wouldn’t. Instead she said, “I’m just stressed out and tired. I had that big presentation today at The Bellamy.”

Simone perked up again. “So, how did it go? Did you dazzle Shane with your designs? Is he going to dump Brandee and run away with you? Please tell me that at the very least he wasn’t rude.”

“He was fine. And Brandee didn’t even come up. You could say that I dazzled him, since they offered me the contract. It seems I also dazzled his silent partner, Deacon Chase.”

Simone’s nose wrinkled in thought as she tried to place the name. “Deacon Chase. Why do I know that name?”

“Because,” Cecelia explained, “that was my first boyfriend in high school.”

Simone’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Are you kidding me? Is that Deacon Chase Shane’s silent partner? Didn’t you lose your virginity to him?”

Cecelia looked around nervously to make sure that none of her employees overheard their discussion. Getting up from her chair, she ran to her office door and shut it. “Say it a little louder, Simone. Yes, Deacon was my first.” Those weren’t exactly helpful memories considering he was in town at the moment, but they were true. Deacon had been the first boy she ever loved. The last boy she’d ever loved.

“Does Chip know he’s in town?”

“Does that matter?” Cecelia asked. “Chip and I didn’t date in high school. We didn’t even date in college. He’s got no reason to worry about Deacon.”

Simone wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, but he knows you two dated and were pretty serious. You don’t think it’s going to bother him that Deacon is back in Royal?”

If there was only one thing that Cecelia knew about Chip, it was that his ego was bigger than the state of Texas. In his opinion, Deacon was from a lower class of people. He wasn’t competition in Chip’s eyes, and never would be. “I don’t think it would bother Chip. I mean, I agreed to marry Chip. I broke it off with Deacon after graduation, so I don’t know why he would feel threatened by him.”

Simone shook her head. “Chip may not have been threatened by the Deacon we knew back in high school, but if he is Shane’s partner in the hotel, he’s done well for himself. That may change things.”

Cecelia wasn’t sure about that, but she didn’t really have time to worry. “Well, I’m sure that Deacon won’t stay. He will be long gone once the hotel is finished. Speaking of Chip, I’ve got to get out of here. He and I are meeting for dinner tonight at the club. We’re celebrating my new contract with the hotel.”

“Excellent. I’ve really got to get out of here, too. I just stopped by on my way out of town to share the latest gossip. I’m meeting Naomi at the airport. We’re flying out tonight to that fashion show in LA. We’ll be there for a couple of days. You be sure to keep us posted if anything new happens with Maverick.”

“I will, although I’m not sure you’d be so excited about his next attack if he were blackmailing you.” Cecelia certainly didn’t feel that way now that she was his latest victim.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll get to me eventually. He’ll get to all of us eventually.”

Simone practically skipped out of Cecelia’s office as if Maverick’s threats didn’t bother her. Cecelia hadn’t been bothered, either, until a few days ago. Now the worry was front and center.

He had to be alluding to her in his latest message. She had wired the money the way her dad had instructed her to, and yet he hadn’t backed off. It was exactly what she was afraid of. Once you stepped into the cycle of blackmail, there was no good way to get out of it. She wouldn’t be surprised to see another message tonight asking for more money. Despite what her father had told her, Cecelia knew she had to use a different tact with Maverick.

Her parents didn’t want her to tell Chip the truth, but that might be her only option if Maverick didn’t back down. Chip’s family was not only wealthy, but they had connections. If she confided her secret in him perhaps he could help to protect her. The Ashfords could crush Maverick like a bug...if they wanted to. She hoped they would, because she didn’t know who else to turn to. She would have to tell him tonight at dinner before things got worse.

She was counting on him to be her savior.

* * *

Cecelia was a ball of nerves as she pulled her BMW into the parking lot of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

The club wasn’t where she would’ve chosen to have this important discussion with Chip, but he had made the arrangements without asking her. Inside, she found Chip seated in the far corner booth of the dining room. She let the host escort her back to the table. Chip got up as she approached and gave her a short embrace and a chaste kiss on the cheek. “There you are, kitten. You’re late. I was starting to worry.”

Cecelia looked at her watch as she sat down and it was exactly five thirty. She wasn’t about to argue with him, though. To Chip, if you didn’t arrive five minutes early, you were late. “I’m sorry. I got hung up with Simone. She wanted to talk to me before she left for California with Naomi.”

Chip settled into the booth across from her and smiled. “And what did the lovely Simone have to tell you today?”

Cecelia considered her words. “Well, I wanted to wait to talk to you about this until after we ordered.”

“I already ordered for us both,” Chip interjected. “I got you the grilled mahimahi since you’re watching your weight for the wedding.”

Cecelia tried to swallow her irritation. She hated when Chip made decisions for her. Especially when those decisions were based on imaginary weight she had no intention of losing, thankyouverymuch. It was a portent of her future with him that she tried hard to ignore. She feared she would be going from spending all her time trying to please her parents, to trying to please her husband.

“Then I suppose I don’t have to wait,” she said, ignoring his comments. “Simone told me that Maverick is blackmailing somebody new.”

Chip nodded thoughtfully and accepted the gin and tonic the waiter brought him before placing a glass of white wine in front of Cecelia. “I saw something come up this afternoon, but I was too busy to pay much attention to it. What does that have to do with Simone? Is she his latest victim? I wouldn’t be surprised if she got into some trouble.”

Cecelia steeled her nerves, thankful for the glass of wine even though she would’ve preferred a red. She took a healthy sip before she started the discussion. “No, he’s actually blackmailing me.”

“What?” Chip shushed her, leaning into her across the table. “Not so loud, people will hear you.” He scanned the dining area for anyone who might hear. Fortunately, it was still early for the dinner crowd at the club. The closest table was involved in a lively discussion about steer and not paying any attention to them. “What is going on?” he asked when he seemed certain it was safe to continue their discussion.

Cecelia followed suit, leaning in and speaking in low, hushed tones. “I got a message from him. It seems he found something out about me from a long time ago, and he’s trying to blackmail me with it. Well, I supposed he’s been successful since I’ve already made one payment to him, but it doesn’t seem like it was enough, given the post this afternoon.”

Chip’s expression was stiff and stoic, without any of the sympathy or concern for her that she was hoping for. “What is he blackmailing you about? You told me you had a squeaky-clean past. It’s absolutely critical, if you’re going to be the wife of a senator, that you don’t have anything in your life that can be detrimental to my career.”

Cecelia sighed. How did this become about him and his career? “I know. It’s not really something I think about very often. It was completely out of my control. My parents chose to keep it secret to protect me, but in the end, I don’t think it’s that bad. It’s hardly a skeleton in my closet, Chip.”

Chip eyed her expectantly, but she hesitated. She hadn’t said the words out loud in thirteen years. Only ever said them once, the night she confided in Deacon. Somehow she wasn’t sure this would go as well. “I’m adopted,” she whispered.

Chip flinched as though she had slapped him across the face. “Adopted? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cecelia gritted her teeth at his reaction. She could already tell this was a mistake. “No one was ever to find out. I was adopted by the Morgans when I was only a few weeks old. They decided to raise me as their own child and have never told anybody about my history...because of who my mother was.”

“What’s wrong with your mother?”

“She had a drug problem. I was taken away from her when I was only two weeks old. My parents told me that she was so distraught, she overdosed not long after that.”

A furious expression came over Chip’s face. “Are you telling me that your mother was a junkie?”

There was no way to make that part go down easier. “I guess so. She was never a part of my life, but yes, my mother had a serious and deadly drug problem.”

Chip didn’t appear to even hear her words. “I cannot believe you would lie to me about something like this.” He flushed an ugly red with anger. She’d never seen her polished and professional fiancé like this. “I thought you were like me. I thought you were from a good family and would make a perfect wife. But you’re nothing but an impostor playing a role. How could you agree to marry me when you were keeping something like that a secret?”

Cecelia’s jaw dropped open in shock. She thought he might be surprised by the news, maybe even concerned about the potential backlash, but she certainly didn’t think that he would accuse her of deceiving him. “I am not an impostor, Chip Ashford. You have known me my whole life. I was raised by the Morgans in the same Houston suburb you were. I went to all the best schools like you did. I am nothing like my birth mother, and I never will be. I couldn’t control who my mother was any more than you could.”

Chip just shook his head. “You can dress it up, but a liar is always a liar.”

Cecelia’s blood ran cold in her veins. “Chip, please, don’t be like this. I didn’t intentionally deceive you. My parents just thought it was best that no one know.”

“Thank goodness for Maverick,” Chip said. “Without him I never would’ve found out the truth about you. You and your parents would’ve let me marry you knowing that everything I believed about you was a lie.”

Her eyes welled up with tears she couldn’t fight. Was Chip about to break up with her over this? She couldn’t believe it, but that’s what it sounded like. “Chip...”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t look at me like that with tears in your eyes and try to convince me that you are a victim in this. I’m sorry, Cecelia, but the engagement is off. I can’t marry somebody I can’t trust. You’re a liability to every future campaign I run, and I’m not about to destroy my career for a woman who is living a lie.”

Cecelia looked down at the gigantic diamond-and-platinum ring that she’d worn for the past six months of their engagement. She hadn’t particularly liked the ring, but she couldn’t say so. It was gaudy, but it was as expected for someone of his station. She didn’t want to keep it, not when his words were like a knife to the heart. She grasped it between her fingers and tugged it off her hand, handing it across the table.

Chip took it and stuffed it into his pocket. “Thank you for being reasonable about that.”

At least one of them could be reasonable, she thought as the pain of his rejection slowly morphed into anger. She never would’ve confided in Chip if she’d known he would react like this. Now, all she could hope for was damage control. “I hope that I can still count on you to keep this secret,” Cecelia said. “Odds are it will get out eventually, but I would prefer it to be on my terms if you don’t mind. For my parents’ sake.”

Chip got up from the table and shrugged it off. “What good would it do me to tell anybody? I’ve wasted enough time here. Have the waiter put dinner on my tab.” He turned on his heel and marched out of the restaurant, leaving Cecelia to sit alone with their cocktails, a basket of bread sticks and an order for food they wouldn’t even eat.

A hollow feeling echoed through her as she looked at his empty seat. Cecelia thought she would be more upset about her broken engagement, but she was just numb. The truth was that she didn’t love Chip. Their relationship was more about strategic family connections than romance, but it still smarted to have him dump her like this when she was at her lowest point. They had planned a future together. They discussed how after The Bellamy deal they were going to sit down and make some solid wedding plans. Instead of finally getting one step closer to the family that she longed for, she was starting over.

Even if Chip kept his word and didn’t spread her secret all over town, it would be embarrassing enough for everyone to find out about her broken engagement. Everyone would speculate about why they broke up if neither of them was talking. She wondered what Chip would tell them.

In the end, she was certain that her secret would come out anyway. One way or another everyone was going to find out that Cecelia was the adopted daughter of a junkie. Royal was a place where everybody was always in everyone else’s business. They had all the drama and glamour that the Houston society provided, with all of the small-town nosiness that Cecelia could do without.

When the truth came to light, she wondered who would still be standing beside her. The members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club were supposed to be like a family, but they were a fickle one.

Then there was the matter of her real family. How would her parents ever recover from the fallout? They’d built their lives on maintaining a perfect facade. Would their family, circle of friends and business contacts ever forgive the decades-long deception?

Reeling from the events of the evening, Cecelia picked up her purse and got up from the table, leaving a stack of bills to cover the tab. She could’ve let Chip pay for it all, but she didn’t want to face the waiter and explain why she was suddenly alone with a tableful of food coming out of the kitchen.

As she got into her car, she leaned back against the soft leather seat and took a deep breath. At this moment, she needed her friends more than ever. But as Simone had said earlier, she and Naomi were already on a plane to California. They wouldn’t be back for several days.

She couldn’t talk to her parents about this. They would be more distraught about her breakup with Chip than how painful this was for her. She loved her parents, but they were far more concerned with appearances than anything else. She was certain that when word of her broken engagement got around to them, she would get an earful. She could just imagine her mother scrambling to get back in the Ashfords’ good graces.

At the moment, Cecelia didn’t really give a damn about the Ashfords. If they couldn’t accept her the way she was, she didn’t want to marry into their family anyway. So what if she wasn’t of the good breeding that Chip thought she was? She was still the same person he had always known. The woman he had proposed to.

As she pulled her car out of the parking lot of the club, she found herself turning left instead of right toward the Pine Valley subdivision where she lived in a French château-inspired home. There wasn’t much to the left, but Cecelia was in desperate need of a stretch of road to drive and clear her mind.

After a few miles, she realized that maybe all this was for the best. Perhaps Maverick was doing her a favor in the end. It was better that she and Chip break up now, while they were still engaged, than to have a messy divorce on her hands. And God forbid they’d started a family. Would Chip reject his own children if he found out that they were tainted by their mother’s inferior bloodline?

Cecelia shuddered at the thought. The one thing she wanted, the one thing she’d always wanted, was a family of her own. She longed for blood relatives whom she was bound to by more than just a slip of paper. People who would love her without stipulations and requirements. Her parents did love her, of that she had no doubt. But the Morgans’ high standards were hard to live up to. She had always strived to meet them, but lately she wondered how they would feel about her if she fell short. Would they still love and protect their perfect Cecelia if she wasn’t so perfect?

As she made her way to the edge of town, she noticed lights on in the distance at the old Wilson House and slowed her car to investigate. She didn’t realize anybody had bought that property. No one had lived in the large, luxurious cabin for several years, but someone was definitely there now.

She wasn’t sure why she did it, but she turned her car down the winding gravel road that led to the old house. Maybe it was Maverick’s secret hideout. There, out front, she spied a fully restored 1965 Corvette Stingray convertible roadster. She knew nothing of cars, but she remembered a poster of one almost exactly like this on Deacon’s bedroom wall in high school. That one had been cherry red—his dream car.

This one was a dark burgundy, but she knew the moment she saw it that the car belonged to Deacon. Instantly, she realized there was no place else she wanted to be in the whole world.

Deacon had known the truth about her. Years ago when they were in high school and completely infatuated with one another, they had confessed all their secrets. Cecelia had told him about her adoption and about her mother. She had even shown him the only picture she had of her mother. The old, worn photograph, given to her by her parents on her thirteenth birthday, had been found in her mother’s hand when she died. It was a picture of her holding her brand-new baby girl, just a week before she was taken away.

Cecelia had spent a lot of time staring at that photo, looking for the similarities between her and her mother. Looking for the differences that made her better. She’d always been mystified by her mother’s happy smile as she held her baby. How could she throw that all away? Every now and then she pulled the photo out to look at it when she was alone. Deacon hadn’t judged her. Deacon had accepted her for who she was—the rich, spoiled daughter of the Morgan family and the poor, adopted daughter taken away from her drug-addled mother. Deacon had loved her just the same.

In this moment, she wanted nothing more than to feel that acceptance again. Without thinking, she drove up to the front of the house and got out of her car. She flew up the steps and knocked on the front door, not knowing what his reaction would be when he saw her. Judging by their interaction earlier that day, she didn’t expect a warm welcome.

But she didn’t care.

A moment later, the large door opened wide, revealing Deacon standing there in nothing but a pair of worn blue jeans. She had admired his new build during her briefing that day, but she could only guess what he was hiding beneath his designer suit. Now his hard, chiseled physique was on display, from his firm pecs to his defined six-pack. His chest and stomach were sprinkled with golden-brown chest hair she didn’t remember from their times together in the past. Her palms itched to run her hands across him and see how different he felt.

Then her eyes met his, and the light of attraction and appreciation flickered there. Cecelia felt a surge of desire and bravery run through her, urging her on, so she didn’t hesitate.

Before Deacon could even say hello, Cecelia launched herself into his arms.

Four

The last thing Deacon expected when he opened his front door was to find Cecelia standing there. If he had suspected that, perhaps he would’ve put a shirt on. Or perhaps not.

Instead, he’d been standing there half-naked when he opened the door and looked into the seductive gray eyes of his past. She’d seemed broken somehow, not as confident as she’d been during her earlier presentation. She’d appeared to almost tremble as her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Before he could ask what was wrong, or why she was here, she’d launched herself at him, and was kissing him.

At that point all Deacon could do was react. And in that moment, with the woman he had once loved in his arms again after all this time, he couldn’t push her away. Their encounter that afternoon had only lit the fires of his need for her once again. The years of anger and resentment took a back seat to desire, at least for the moment. He had no idea what had brought her to his doorstep tonight, but he was thankful for it.

Now her mouth was hot and demanding as she continued to kiss him. These were nothing like the sweet, hesitant kisses of their teenage years. Cecelia was a grown woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. And from the looks of it, she wanted Deacon.

She buried her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as she pressed her body against his bare chest. He could feel the globes of her full breasts molding against the hard wall of his chest through the thin silk of the blouse he had admired earlier that day. As her tongue slipped into his mouth, he felt a growl form in the back of his throat. She certainly knew how to coax the beast out of him. He tried not to think about how Chip Ashford could’ve been the one to teach her these new tricks.

That was the thought that yanked Deacon away from Cecelia’s kiss. He took a step back, bracing her shoulders and holding her away from him. “What are you doing here, Cecelia?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be making out with your rich fiancé right now, instead of me?”

Cecelia silently held up her hand, wiggling the bare finger that had previously held the gigantic diamond he’d noticed that afternoon at the presentation. So, that meant the engagement was off, and just since he’d seen her last. That was an interesting development, although one he was certain had little to do with his arrival in town. Only in his fantasies would Cecelia cast aside Chip for him.

“May I come in?” she asked, looking up at him through thick, golden lashes.

His tongue snaked out over his lips as he nodded. “Sure.” He took a step back, wondering what could’ve broken the engagement and driven Cecelia back into his arms, but before he could ask, she was on him again.

This time he had no reason to stop her. They stumbled back through the doorway, and he kicked it shut behind them. Without hesitation, he lifted Cecelia and started carrying her toward the bedroom. She clung to him, unwilling to separate her lips from his as he navigated through the house.

When they reached his bedroom, he sat her gently down at the edge of his king-size bed. Cecelia immediately started undoing his belt, sliding it from his jeans and tossing it to the floor. There was no question that this was what she wanted. And frankly, if he were being honest with himself, it was what he wanted, too.

He certainly didn’t expect it to be dropped into his lap like this, but only a fool would ask questions instead of accepting the gift he’d been given. As she started to unbutton his pants, he reached for her hand and pulled it away.

“I’ve got this,” he said.

Cecelia just smiled and began to undo her own blouse, button by button, exposing more of the creamy, porcelain skin he’d always admired. She was one of the few women he’d ever met who truly had a flawless complexion. There were no freckles, no moles—not even a scar. The Morgans would never allow their precious daughter to be injured. Her skin was like that of a china doll—smooth...even...perfect.

He remembered running his hands over it years ago and it feeling like silk against the rough, calloused palms he’d earned from working on cars. As she slipped her blouse off her shoulders and exposed the ivory satin of her bra, he ached to touch it and the flesh beneath it.

Her breasts nearly overflowed the cups as she breathed hard with wanting him. He took a step back as she stood to unzip her pencil skirt. The fabric slid over her ample hips and pooled at her feet. The sight of her nearly nude stole his breath away. She was just as beautiful and perfect as he remembered. Only now, she was a fully grown woman with all the curves that a man at his age could finally appreciate. As a teenager, Cecelia had been his first, and he’d hardly known what he was doing. He wouldn’t have been able to handle a woman like Cecelia back then.

Cecelia’s steely-gray eyes were fixed on him as she reached behind herself and unlatched her bra. Her breasts spilled free, revealing tight, strawberry-pink tips that were just as he remembered them. Thirteen years was too long to wait, and he couldn’t resist reaching out to cup them in his hands. The hard peaks of her nipples pressed into his palms as he squeezed and massaged her sensitive flesh.

Cecelia sighed with contentment, leaned into his touch, tipped her head back and shook her blond waves over her shoulders. “Yes,” she whispered. “I need your touch, Deacon. I need it now more than ever.”

Deacon didn’t respond. Instead, he dipped his head and took one of her tight buds into his mouth. He teased at it with his tongue until Cecelia was gasping and writhing against him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her body tight against his, and then slipped one hand beneath her silky ivory panties.

He was surprised to find her skin completely bare and smooth there, providing no barrier for his fingers to slip between her sensitive folds and stroke her center. Cecelia gasped and her hips bucked against his hand, but he didn’t stop. Instead he drew harder on her nipple, stroking her again and again until she came apart in his arms.

Cecelia cried out and clawed at his shoulders, more wild and passionate beneath him than she’d ever let herself be. She had gotten in touch with her sexuality, and he was pleased to be benefiting from it.

When her body stilled and her cries subsided, he lowered her gently onto the bed, laying her back against the brocade comforter. She watched beneath hooded eyes as he unbuttoned his jeans and slipped them off, along with the rest of his clothing. She watched him with appreciation as he sought out a condom from the nightstand and returned to where her body was sprawled across his mattress. He set the condom beside her on the bed, using both hands to grasp her panties and slide the fabric over her hips and down her legs.

With her completely exposed in front of him, Deacon could only shake his head in wonder. How had he gotten to this place tonight? He had anticipated grilling a steak on the back porch, drinking a few beers and watching the news. Instead, he would gladly go without his dinner and feast on Cecelia instead.

He opened the condom and rolled it down his length and then crawled onto the bed, positioning himself between her still-quivering thighs.

This was the moment he’d waited for, fantasized about, since the day he and Cecelia had parted ways. The last time they’d made love had been the night before their high school graduation. He’d had no idea that the next day Cecelia would be breaking up with him. He’d had no idea that he was holding her for the last time, kissing her for the last time, until it was too late. Then, all he could do was long for what he lost and search for it in the arms of other women.

“Please,” Cecelia begged. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Deacon was more than happy to fulfill her wish. He slowly surged forward, pressing into her warmth until he was fully buried inside her. He gritted his teeth, fighting to keep control, as her tight muscles wrapped around him. She felt as good as he remembered. Maybe better.

Cecelia drew her knees up, wrapping her legs around his hips and holding him close. She reached up for him, cupping his face in her hands and drawing his mouth down to her own. He began to move, slowly at first, and then picking up speed. Her soft cries and groans of pleasure were muffled by his mouth against hers.

It didn’t take long for the tension to build up inside him. Cecelia was eager and hungry for him, and he was near his breaking point. He moved harder and faster as she clawed at his back. The sharp sting was a painful reminder that although he was enjoying this, he needed to remember who he was with. The Cecelia of his past, of his fantasies, was long gone. The woman beneath him was harder, shrewder and lacking the sweet innocence he’d always associated with her.

No matter what he tried to tell himself, Deacon knew that she was just using him. Whatever had happened between her and Chip tonight had driven her into his arms. She probably wanted to forget about everything that was going wrong in her life and was using Deacon as a reminder of when things were better. It had worked. Whatever tensions and worries she’d arrived with on his doorstep were gone.

Admittedly, his mood had improved, too. As Deacon focused on the soft warmth of her body, the stress of the day melted away and a new kind of tension took its place. Cecelia’s cries grew louder beneath him, signaling that she was close to another release. He wasn’t far behind her. Reaching between them, he stroked her center, pushing her over the edge once again.

“Deacon!” she cried out, writhing under him.

The tightening of her muscles around him drew him closer to his release. He thrust into her three more times, hard and fast, and it was done. His jaw dropped open with a silent scream as he poured himself into her willing body.

When it was over, Deacon pulled away from her and flopped back onto the bed. Staring up at his ceiling, he had a hard time believing everything that had just happened. He’d come back to Royal in the hopes that Cecelia might regret dumping him all those years ago.

This was way better.

* * *

Cecelia awoke with a start. She sat up in bed, her heart racing in her chest, as she looked around the unfamiliar room. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out where she was, but the morning light streaming across the furniture and the shape of the man in bed beside her pieced it together.

Suddenly everything came back to her at once. She’d slept with Deacon. No, she’d thrown herself at Deacon and he’d had the courtesy not to turn her down and make her look like a fool. What was she thinking, running to him like that? Of all the people in Royal?

Then again, who else did she have to turn to? She couldn’t blame last night on alcohol, but apparently the emotional trauma of her breakup with Chip was enough to dull her inhibitions. With the arrival of dawn, her good sense returned to her, and she realized that last night, however amazing, had been a terrible mistake.

She pulled back the blankets and slipped silently from the bed. She crept through the room, collecting her clothing, and carried it with her to the hallway, where she pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and got dressed.

She looked back at the door and pictured the man asleep beyond it only once before she disappeared down the hallway and out the front door. She practically held her breath until she had started her car and made it down the driveway without Deacon showing up at his front door to see her leave. It was better this way. Neither of them had to face the reality of last night and what it meant, which was a big nothing.

They were both under stress, and the sex had done its job and gotten it out of their systems. Hopefully, she would be able to finish her work at The Bellamy without this becoming a problem for her. She had enough to deal with, with the fallout of her broken engagement and the threat of Maverick looming overhead. She didn’t need any weird sexual tension buzzing between them while she was trying to pull off the design coup of the century.

Two hundred and fifty guest suites in less than a month was no laughing matter. It would take all of Cecelia’s focus and drive to make it happen. She didn’t have time for any distractions in her life, but she most certainly didn’t need Deacon, who would be at the hotel every day, reminding her of what they’d just done while she tried to work.

And yet, by the time she reached Pine Valley Estates, she was feeling guilty about running out. That was no way to treat Deacon, especially after how welcoming he’d been last night. He’d had every right to slam the door in her face when she showed up at his doorstep without warning. She was the one who had broken up with him because he wasn’t good enough for her. How dare she just show up and throw herself into his arms and expect him to welcome her? And yet he had.

Now she felt worse than ever.

She pulled her car into the garage at her château just around the time her alarm normally would wake her. There was no time for her to dwell on her mistakes. She needed to shower, change, grab a double-shot latte and get to work on her first day of The Bellamy project.

Cecelia made a stop at her office to collect the things she would need while she was working at the resort. With her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and a small file box of necessary paperwork and designs in hand, she headed back out to the receptionist’s desk.

Her secretary, Nancy, was sitting there when she arrived. “Good morning, Miss Morgan,” she said.

“Good morning, Nancy. Mr. Delgado and Mr. Chase graciously offered me an office at the hotel so I can oversee our work there over the next few weeks. Tell anyone who needs to get a hold of me that I have my cell phone and my computer.”

Nancy jotted the note on the paper pad beside her. She waved as Cecelia turned and went out the front door with her things.

By the time Cecelia arrived at The Bellamy, work was in full swing for the day. She spied her painting team’s truck, which meant that they were already laying a coat of steely-gray paint on the walls of every suite. By the time they were done, the wallpaper should have arrived and be ready to go on the accent walls and in the bathrooms.

She gathered up her things and started up the walkway into the back of the hotel, passing landscapers as they planted trees and bushes nearby. Inside she found an organized-looking woman in a headset and asked for directions. She pointed her down a hallway to the business suite of the hotel. There, she found one office designated for each of the owners, one for the hotel manager, one for the reservations manager, one for the catering manager and one empty office that had yet to be assigned. She assumed that would be hers for now.

She opened the door and turned on the light, finding a nicely appointed office space. She hadn’t been contracted to decorate the interior management rooms, but it wouldn’t be necessary. There was a desk, a rolling chair and a bookshelf. That was more than she would need while she was here. She busied herself unpacking her things and getting ready to dig into her work.

Once she was up and running, she started her day by making important calls. All of her suppliers needed to know that she had won the project bid and the pending orders needed to go forward as planned. Fabric, furniture and wallpaper were just the beginning. She had orders for paintings to go up in every single room, 250 matching small lamps to go on each nightstand, along with another 250 torch lamps for the corner behind the reading chair. Thousands of feet of carpeting needed to be ordered, in addition to ceramic tiles for the bathroom floors.

And all that needed to get here as soon as possible. As in yesterday.

Cecelia was lost in the minutiae of managing her inventory and orders when her cell phone rang. She looked down and noticed it was Naomi calling from California. She picked up the phone and answered it. “Hey, girl, how’s California?”

“It’s beautiful here,” she said. “The weather is unreal. It makes me never want to come back to Texas, but of course I will, because you and Simone would kill me if I didn’t.”

“Is everything set up for the fashion show?”

Naomi just groaned. “I really don’t want to talk about it. There’s always last-minute chaos at these things. I didn’t call to talk about all that anyway. I called because I got a text about you and Chip breaking up yesterday. Is that true?”

Cecelia had been hoping it would take longer for the news to get out, but apparently it was already making Royal’s gossip rounds. “Yes, we’ve broken up, but really it’s for the best. I think we just had different ideas of what our future was going to be.”

“Hmm. So it didn’t have anything to do with a certain someone coming back to town?”

Cecelia rolled her eyes. Simone must’ve told her about her run-in with Deacon. “No, it had nothing to do with him. I honestly doubt Chip even knows he’s here yet. I didn’t mention it.”

“So what set all this off?”

She hesitated. She knew that she would eventually tell Naomi and Simone about her little blackmail problem, but now wasn’t the time. “It was bound to happen eventually. Things just boiled over at dinner last night, so we called off the engagement. I’ll tell you and Simone more about it when you get home. I wish you two were here.”

“I’m so sorry that all this happened while we were gone, Cece. You’ve broken off your engagement and your two best friends aren’t there to commiserate with you. That really sucks. I promise that when we get back, we will get together for some wine, a couple cartons of Ben & Jerry’s and some good girl time. You’ll put this whole thing behind you before you know it.”

That sounded great. Cecelia really needed her friends to talk to. Had they been in town last night, perhaps she wouldn’t have found herself in Deacon’s bed.

“Good luck with the show,” Cecelia said.

“Thank you. Hang in there. Oh, and don’t forget that Wes and Isabelle’s engagement party is coming up. You’re not getting out of it, you know.”

Oh, she knew. Cecelia said goodbye and got off the phone. She needed to remember to pick up a gift for that. Frankly, she had been surprised to receive the invitation, but Isabelle was the kind of woman who wanted to be friends with everybody, even the girl who had spilled the beans about her secret daughter and upended her whole life.

She had RSVP’d two weeks ago, but now she was regretting it. She didn’t really want to stroll into the Texas Cattleman’s Club and have to face everybody after the breakup. More than a few people there would get a sick amount of pleasure from her misfortune. But she said she would go, so she would go.

Cecelia had just turned back to her computer when she heard a tap at the door. She looked up and immediately felt a surge of panic run through her. Deacon was standing in her doorway, a look of expectation and irritation on his face. She’d been hoping, in vain, apparently, that he would be too busy to come looking for her this morning. “Good morning, Mr. Chase. What can I do for you?”

Deacon arched a curious brow at her and just shook his head. “So this is how it’s going to be, huh? It never happened?”

Cecelia smiled, putting on her most businesslike face as she tried to ignore the rough stubble on his jaw that she’d brushed her lips across only hours earlier. Her fingers tingled with the memory of running through his golden-blond hair and pulling him close to her. “I always like to keep things professional in the workplace.”

“And later, when we’re not in the workplace?” he asked.

“There’s not much to say about last night, now or later, except that I apologize for the way I acted. It was inappropriate of me to burden you with my problems. After Chip broke off the engagement, I wasn’t sure where to go or what to do. I made the wrong choice, and I’m sorry.”

Deacon’s green-gold gaze flickered over her face, studying her as though he could see the truth there. His jaw tightened, and finally he looked away. “The head of your painting crew is looking for you. He’s waiting in the lobby.”

Cecelia watched as Deacon turned and disappeared from her doorway without another word. The warm, attentive Deacon from last night was gone, leaving only the cold businessman behind. She hated that it had to be that way, and she wished he could understand. Now, more than ever, she needed his warmth and his compassion. All too soon, the rest of Royal would be turning their backs on her. But there was too much history between them, too many memories and emotions to cloud the present. She knew she had to put up a wall to protect her business and her reputation.

And her heart.

Five

He was a damn fool for thinking that their night together would go down any differently than it had.

Deacon knew better. He knew better than to just fall in the bed with Cecelia and think that things had changed. Just as before, he was good enough when they were alone, but not in public. He had thought that perhaps he had proved his worth, and that maybe things would go differently between them this time. Not so.

It had been a week since she’d shown up on his doorstep. They’d danced around each other at the hotel each day, both seemingly drawn to, and repelled by, each other. Cecelia avoided eye contact and stuck strictly to topics about work. But as hard as she tried to play it cool, it didn’t change the underlying energy that ran through all of their interactions.

He wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of him chasing after her, however. The teenager whose heart she’d broken would’ve chased her anywhere if he thought he could have another chance. Real estate billionaire Deacon Chase didn’t follow women around like a lost puppy dog.

But if there was one thing Deacon had learned in the past week, it was that she didn’t regret that night. Not even one teensy, tiny, little bit. He’d seen the way her cheeks flushed when she’d looked up and seen him standing nearby. She had been hungry for the pleasure he happily gave her. That kind of hunger was nothing to be remorseful about. She’d come to him that night because she wanted to forget what a mess her life was for a little while, and he’d delivered in spades. More than likely, she regretted that she didn’t regret their encounter.

Deacon hadn’t lost too much sleep over it. They’d had sex. Amazing, mind-blowing sex, but just sex. It’d been thirteen years since they’d gotten together. They weren’t in love with one another, and it was ridiculous to think that they ever would be. It would’ve been nice if she had said goodbye as she crept naked from his bedroom, but he supposed it had saved them from an awkward morning together.

No, what had bothered him the most during the past week was seeing who Cecelia had become over the years. Despite his feelings about her and their breakup, he had still loved the girl Cecelia had been. She’d been the sweetest, most caring person he had ever known outside of his own family. When the rest of the school, and the rest of the town, had turned their back on Deacon, Cecelia had been there.

The woman he watched stomping back and forth through the lobby of his hotel in high heels and a tight hair bun was not the Cecelia he remembered. She was driven, focused, almost to the point of being emotionless. What happened to her? When they had shared their dreams for the future as teenagers, being a hard-nosed CEO had not been on Cecelia’s list of ambitions.

If he looked closely, every now and then Deacon could see a flicker of the girl he used to know. It was usually near the end of the day, when the stress and the worries started to wear her down. That was when her facade would start to crumble and he could see the real Cecelia underneath.

He was watching her like that when Shane approached him. “She’s quite a piece of work, isn’t she?”

Deacon turned to him, startled out of his thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve always thought that Cecelia was a victim of a contradictory modern society. If she were a man, everyone would applaud her for her success and uncompromising attitude in the boardroom. Since she’s a woman, she’s seen as cold and bitchy. Heck, I see her that way after the way she treated Brandee. But there’s no way she could’ve gotten this far in business if she wasn’t hard.”

“You make it sound like nobody likes her.” That surprised Deacon, since she’d been the most popular, outgoing person in high school. Everyone had loved her.

“Well, she has earned quite the reputation in Royal over the years. Aside from her few close friends, I’m not sure that anybody really likes her, especially inside the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Tell you what, though, it’s not for their lack of trying. She’s just not interested in being friends with most people. She and the rest of the mean girl trio tried to sabotage my relationship with Brandee. They thought it was a big joke. I don’t know if folks are just not good enough to be her friends or what.”

Deacon flinched. “That doesn’t sound like her at all. What the hell happened after I left town?”

“I don’t know, man.” Shane shrugged. “Maybe you broke her heart.”

Deacon swallowed a bitter chuckle. “Don’t you mean the other way around? She’s the one who broke up with me.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she regrets it. I certainly would rather date you over Chip Ashford any day.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you, Shane.”

“You know what I mean,” Shane snapped. “I’d be a bitter, miserable woman if I were dating him, too. I’m curious as to what will happen to her socially, now that she’s broken it off with Chip, though. A lot of people in town tolerated her and her attitude just because she was his fiancée.”

The discussion of her broken engagement caught Deacon’s attention. “So do you know exactly what happened between her and Chip?”

Shane just shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything about it, aside from the fact that it’s over. It seems both of them are keeping fairly tight-lipped about the whole thing, which is unusual. I have heard that her parents are beside themselves about the breakup. They’ve been kissing the Ashfords’ asses for years to get in their good graces, and I’m sure they think Cecelia has ruined it for them.”

It grated on Deacon’s nerves that Cecelia’s parents were always more worried about appearances than they were about their own daughter. Couldn’t they see that she was miserable with Chip? Probably so. They just didn’t care. Deacon had never thought much of their family. They acted like they were better than everyone else. “Who cares about the Ashfords?” he asked.

“Everybody,” Shane said before turning and wandering off, disappearing as suddenly as he had arrived.

Deacon watched him go, and then he turned back to where Cecelia had been standing a moment before. She was barking orders at a crew of men hauling in rolls of carpeting. When she was finished, she turned and headed in his direction with her tablet clutched in her arms. He braced himself for a potentially tense conversation, but she didn’t even make eye contact. She breezed past him as though he were invisible and disappeared down the hallway.

A cold and indifferent bitch, indeed.

Looking down at his watch, Deacon realized he couldn’t spend all of his time staring at Cecelia. The hotel opening was in a little more than three weeks, and they had a ton of work ahead of them. That was why he had returned to Royal after all—well, the official reason anyway. He turned on his heel and headed back toward his office to get some work done before the end of the day arrived.

When he looked up from his computer next it was after seven. It was amazing how time could get away from him while he was working. He couldn’t imagine doing this job and having a family to go home to every night. He imagined he would have a very angry wife and very cold dinners. He stood up, stretched and reached over to turn off his laptop.

He switched off the light as he stepped out of his office, noticing the business suite was dark except for one other space. Cecelia’s office. As quietly as he could, he crept down the hallway to peer in and see what she was doing here this late.

Cecelia was sitting in her chair with her back to him, but she wasn’t working. She was looking at something in her hand. Deacon took a few steps closer so he could make out what it was. Finally, he could tell it was an old, worn photograph. One that he recognized.

She’d shown him the photo the night she confessed her biggest secret: that she was adopted. It was of a young woman, weary and worn but happy, holding a new baby. It was a picture of Cecelia’s birth mother on the day she brought her daughter home from the hospital. Deacon hadn’t given much thought to the photo back then. He had been more interested in Cecelia and the way she talked about it. She had always seemed conflicted about her birth mother. It was as though she wanted to know her, wanted to learn more about who she had been and why she had gotten so lost, and yet she was embarrassed by where she had come from. Deacon had no doubt that she had the Morgans to thank for that.

There was a lot going on with Cecelia. More than just regret over their one-night stand. More than just missing her mother. More than just being upset over her broken engagement. There was something else going on that she wasn’t telling him. The whole town was convinced she was just a stuck-up mean girl, but he’d bet not one of them had looked hard enough to see that she was hurting. Of course, she had no reason to confide in him. While he’d proved himself trustworthy in the past, they weren’t exactly close anymore. In that moment it bothered him more than in the thirteen years they’d been apart.

He wanted to go into her office and scoop her up into his arms. Not to kiss her. Not to carry her away and ravish her somewhere, but just to hold her. He got the feeling that it was a luxury Cecelia could barely afford. Chip didn’t seem like a supportive, hold-his-woman kind of guy, and that was exactly what she needed right now.

But did he dare?

She had done nothing but avoid him since their night together. She’d made it crystal clear that she didn’t want any sort of relationship with Deacon, sexual or otherwise. She just wanted to do her job, and so he would let her. The last thing he needed was to leave Royal for the second time with a broken heart and a bruised ego.

As quietly as he could, Deacon took a few steps back and disappeared down the hallway so he didn’t disturb her. As he stepped out into the parking lot, there were only two cars remaining—his Corvette and her BMW. He stopped beside her car and stared down at it for a moment, thinking. Finally, he fished a blank piece of scrap paper out of his pocket and scribbled a note on it before placing it under her windshield wiper.

“I’m here if you need to talk—Deacon,” it read.

Whether or not she would take him up on it, he had no idea. But he hoped so.

* * *

Things had been hard for Cecelia the past couple of weeks. She tried to lose herself in her work and forget about everything that was going wrong in her life, but in the evenings at the hotel, when it was calm and quiet, she had nothing to distract her from the mess of her own making.

Earlier that night, she’d gotten another message from Maverick. As she’d expected, the original payment was just that, and not nearly enough to keep him quiet. Another twenty-five thousand had to be wired by the end of the week, or her secret would be out and her family would be humiliated. Staring at the photo of her mother, she’d quietly decided that she wasn’t giving him any more money. She felt a pang of guilt where her parents were concerned—surely they would face an uphill battle in restoring the trust of those they lied to—but it was time for her to take control of her life. Come what may.

Now, sitting in her car in the long-empty parking lot of the hotel, she clutched what might be her only lifeline. Finding the note on her windshield from Deacon had been a surprise. They hadn’t really spoken since the morning she ran out on him, aside from the occasional discussion about the hotel. She thought she was doing a good job at keeping her worries inside, but Deacon had seen through it somehow. He’d always had that ability. In some ways, that made him someone she needed to avoid more than ever. In other ways, he was just the person she needed to talk to. The only person she could talk to.

But could she take him up on his offer?

At this point, she didn’t have much to lose. Before she could second-guess herself, she put her car in Drive and found herself back on the highway that led to Deacon’s place. Her heart was pounding in her chest with anxiety as she drove up the gravel path through the trees. His car was there, and the lights were on inside. Hopefully he was there alone.

She bit anxiously at her lip as she rang the doorbell and waited. This time, when Deacon answered the door, he was fully dressed in the suit he’d worn to the hotel that day, and she was able to control herself. Barely. “Hi,” she said. It seemed a simple, silly way to start such a heavy conversation, but she didn’t know what else to say.

Deacon seemed to sense how hard it was for her to accept his olive branch. Instead of gloating, he just took a step back and opened the door wider to let her inside.

“You said you were here if I needed to talk. Is this a good time?”

Deacon shut the door and turned to her with a serious expression lining his face. His green-gold eyes reflected nothing but sincerity as he looked at her and said, “Whenever you need to talk to me, I will make the time.”

Cecelia was taken aback by the intensity of his words and their impact on her. She never felt like she was anybody’s priority, especially Chip’s. He always had an important meeting, a campaign to run, a fund-raiser to plan, hands to shake and babies to kiss. Cecelia had been an accessory to him, like a nice suit or pair of cuff links. “Thank you,” was all she could say.

Deacon led her through the foyer and into his sunken great room. The space was two stories high with a fireplace on the far end that went all the way to the ceiling with stacked gray-and-brown flagstone. He gestured for her to sit in the comfortable-looking brown leather sectional that was arranged around a coffee table made of reclaimed wood and glass. It was very much a cowboy’s living room, reminding her of the clubhouse.

“Are you renting this place?” she asked.

“No, I actually went ahead and bought it. It was a good deal, and it came furnished. That made it easier for me to settle in and gave me a real home to come to each night. Despite the fact that I build hotels for a living, I don’t exactly relish living in one. When the hotel is finished, I’ll return to France, but I’ll probably keep this place. Shane will be overseeing the business operations, but I’ll also need to come back from time to time.”

Deacon walked to a wet bar in the corner. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yes, please. I don’t really care what it is, but make it a double.”

She watched as Deacon poured them both a drink over ice and carried them over to the coffee table. Cecelia immediately picked up her glass and took a large sip. The amber liquid burned on the way down, distracting her from her nerves and eventually warming her blood. “I want to start by apologizing for that morning I ran out on you. I panicked and handled it poorly, and I haven’t done any better since then.”

Deacon didn’t respond. He just sat patiently listening and taking the occasional sip of his own drink. She wasn’t used to having someone’s undivided attention, so she knew she needed to make the most of it.

“Everything in my life is falling apart,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ve been in town long enough to hear about Maverick, but he’s been targeting members of the club since the beginning of the year. No one is sure who he is, or how he got the information, but he’s been blackmailing people and spilling their secrets. I’m his latest victim.”

That finally compelled Deacon to break his silence. “What could you have possibly done to be blackmailed for? Your parents always kept such a tight leash on you, I can’t imagine you got into too much trouble over the years.”

“He’s not blackmailing me about something that I did. He’s blackmailing me because of who I really am. Somehow Maverick has gotten a hold of my original birth certificate. He’s threatening to tell everyone about my mother and her deadly drug habit. Up until now, no one has known the truth except for me, you and my parents.”

Deacon frowned. “I don’t see how anybody could hold something like that against you. Why don’t you just tell people the truth and take his power away?”

Cecelia sighed. “I thought about doing that, but my parents were very strongly against it. They don’t want to ruin the image of the picture-perfect family they’ve created over the years. I paid the blackmailer, but he still went ahead and started sending out messages to club members that alluded to me. I got another one from him today demanding another payment. There’s no way out of this trap. I tried to confide in Chip, thinking that he could help me somehow, but he accused me of living a lie and broke off our engagement instead.”

When Cecelia turned to look at Deacon, his jaw was tight and his skin was flushed with anger. “What a bastard! I can’t believe you were going to marry a man who could be so careless with your heart. You deserve better than him, Cecelia, not the other way around. By the time he figures that out, I hope it’s too late for him to win you back.”

Once again, she was stunned by his words. She just couldn’t understand how he could say things like that to her after everything that she had done to him. “Why are you being so nice to me, Deacon? I don’t deserve it.”

Deacon reached out and took her hand in his. His warm touch sent a surge of awareness through her whole body, bringing back to mind memories of their recent night together. She pushed all of that aside and tried to focus on the here and now.

“What are you talking about? You’ve already apologized twice for the other night, unnecessarily I might add.”

Cecelia met his gaze with her own. “I’m talking about high school. We were in love, we had made plans to run away and live this amazing life together, and I threw it all away. Don’t you hate me for that?”

“I was angry for a while, but I have to admit that it fueled me to make more of myself. I couldn’t hate you, Cecelia. I tried to, but I just couldn’t. The girl I loved wasn’t the one who broke up with me that day.”

Cecelia felt a sense of relief wash over her. At least that was one thing she hadn’t completely ruined. “I’ve never been strong enough, despite all my successes, to stand up to my parents. I made the mistake of telling them that after graduation, I was leaving with you. They had a fit and laid down the law. I wasn’t going anywhere, they insisted. It broke my heart to break up with you, but I didn’t know what else to do. And now, when they told me to keep my mouth shut and pay the blackmailer, I did it even though I didn’t want to. I dated Chip for years because that’s what they wanted. I probably would’ve married him to make them happy if he hadn’t broken up with me. They’ve never really allowed me to be myself. I’ve always had to be this perfect daughter, striving to prove to them that I’m better than my mother was.

“I’ve only ever done two things in my life just because it made me happy. One was starting my business. Marriage and family didn’t come as quickly as I’d hoped, so designing and decorating nurseries for a living was the next best thing.”

Deacon stroked his thumb gently across the back of her hand as she spoke. “What was the other thing?”

She looked at him, a soft smile curling her lips. “Falling in love with you. You made me happy. You never asked me to be anybody other than who I was. You knew the truth about my mother, and it never seemed to bother you.”

“That’s because you were perfect just the way you were, Cecelia. Why would I ask you to change?”

No one had ever spoken to her the way Deacon did. His sincere words easily melted her defenses, cracking the cold businesswoman facade that she worked so hard to maintain. She’d always felt so alone, and she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Unwelcome tears started to well up in her eyes. Cecelia hated to cry, especially in front of other people. She wasn’t raised to show that kind of vulnerability to anybody. In the Morgan household, she learned at a very young age that emotions made one appear weak, and that wasn’t tolerated. Her birth mother had been weak, they’d told her, and look where she had ended up.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away from him to wipe her tears away.

“Stop apologizing,” he said. He reached for her and pulled her into the protective cocoon of his strong embrace. Cecelia gave in to it, collapsing against him and letting her tears flow freely at last. He held her for what felt like an hour, although it was probably just a few minutes. When she was all out of tears, she sat up and looked at him.

Deacon’s face was so familiar and yet so different after all these years. He still had the same kind eyes and charming smile she’d fallen in love with, there was just more maturity behind his gaze now. She found that wisdom made him more handsome than ever before.

In that moment, she didn’t want him to just hold her. She wanted to surrender to him and offer him anything she had to give. Slowly, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. This kiss was different from the one they’d shared before. There was no desperation or anger fueling it this time, just a swelling of emotion and her slow-burning desire for him.

Deacon didn’t push her away, nor did he press the kiss any further. It was firm and sweet, soft and tender, reminding her of warm summer nights spent lying in the back of his pickup truck. It was a kiss of potential, of promise.

Cecelia wanted more, but as she leaned farther into Deacon, she felt his hands press softly but insistently against her shoulders. When their lips parted, they sat together inches apart for a moment without speaking.

Finally Deacon said, “That’s probably where we should end tonight. I don’t want you to have any more regrets where I’m concerned. Or expectations.”

Cecelia didn’t regret a thing about what had happened between them, but she understood what he meant. What future could they possibly have together? She was still picking up the pieces from her broken engagement, and he’d be back in France in mere weeks. She nodded and sat back, feeling the chill rush in as the warmth of his body left her.

Setting her drink on the coffee table, Cecelia stood up. “I’d probably better get going, then. Thank you for listening and being so supportive. You don’t know how rare that is in my life.”

Deacon walked her to the door, giving her a firm but chaste hug before she left. It felt good just to be in his arms. She felt safe there, as though Maverick—and Chip and her parents and the gossipmongers of Royal—couldn’t hurt her while Deacon was around.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” he said.

Cecelia waved at him over her shoulder, feeling an unusual surge of optimism run through her as she climbed into her car. For the first time in a long time, she couldn’t wait to see what life had in store for her.

Six

“The chef has put together the tasting menu for the grand opening celebration. I didn’t realize it was happening today, and I promised Brandee that I would go with her to shop for some things for the ranch. Can you handle it without me?”

Deacon looked up from his desk and frowned at his business partner. “I may have lived in Europe for the last few years, but I don’t exactly have the most refined tastes. I am a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. Are you sure you want to leave the menu up to me? That’s a pretty important element of the party, considering we’re trying to lure customers into the new tapas restaurant.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. We hired the best Spanish chef in all of Texas to run the restaurant. I’m pretty sure that anything Chef Eduardo makes is going to be amazing. If you’re worried about it,” Shane said with a wicked grin, “you could always ask Cecelia to join you. She’s known for having excellent taste, in design and event planning.”

Deacon sat back in his chair and considered Shane’s suggestion. Since their kiss a few days ago, he had been considering his next move where she was concerned. He knew that he should back off before they both ended up in over their heads. The past had proven that his and Cecelia’s relationship was doomed. They weren’t the same people they were back in high school. Even so, he found his thoughts circling back to her again and again.

So what now? He wanted to spend some time with her. A date seemed too formal, especially since she might not want to be seen out with another man so soon after her engagement was called off. But this would be an interesting alternative if she had the time. “Okay, fine. You’re off the hook. Get out of here and go buy some barbed wire or a horse or something.”

Shane waved and disappeared down the hall. Deacon got up from his desk and went in search of Cecelia. He found her in the lobby directing the hanging of a large oil painting. It was a Western landscape, one of the few nods to Texas in her otherwise modern design.

“Perfect!” she declared after the level showed the frame was aligned just right.

“Well, thank you, I try,” Deacon said from over her shoulder.

Cecelia spun on her heel and turned to look at him. “Very funny. Can I help you with something, Mr. Chase?”

Even now, always business first. Thankfully, he truly had a business proposition for her, even if his motivation was less than pure. “Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow you for an hour to help me with something.”

“An hour? It’s almost lunchtime.”

“Which means...all your guys will be out in search of a taco truck and you will have nothing better to do than to join me for a private tasting at the new restaurant here in the hotel.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, but she didn’t say no. “Is the chef still working on the menu?”

“No, that’s already set for both restaurants. What Chef Eduardo has put together for today is the menu for the grand opening gala. It features some of the items that will be on the restaurant’s menu, but also some more finger-food-type selections that can be passed around by waiters. Shane was supposed to do this with me, but he’s gotten roped into a shopping excursion with Brandee. That just leaves me, and I’m afraid I don’t have the palate for this. I could use a second opinion.”

Cecelia’s gaze flicked over him for a moment, and then she nodded. She turned back to her crew. “Why don’t you guys go ahead and take lunch? We’ll finish up the rest of the paintings this afternoon.”

She didn’t have to tell them twice. The men immediately put down their tools and slipped out of the back of the hotel. Once they were gone, Cecelia turned back to Deacon with a smile. “Lead the way, Mr. Chase.”

Technically, it wasn’t a date, but Deacon felt inclined to offer her his arm and escort her down the hallway anyway. The Bellamy was designed with two dining options. The Silver Saddle was the more casual of the two, offering an upscale bar environment and featuring a selection of Spanish tapas in lieu of the typical appetizer selection. The other restaurant was the Glass House, a high-end farm-to-table restaurant, featuring all the freshest organic produce and responsibly sourced game available. The executive chef was even working on a rooftop garden where he intended to grow his own herbs and a selection of seasonable vegetables.

Normally, the Glass House would’ve been the appropriate venue for the grand opening, but Deacon had had other ideas. It wouldn’t take much to lure the residents of Royal to the Glass House. That was right up their snooty, rich alley. Spanish tapas were another matter. Deacon had suggested that the food for the event be catered by the Silver Saddle instead, so they could introduce the town to what he and Shane hoped would be the newest hot spot in Royal.

When they arrived at the bar they found the executive chef waiting for them. Eduardo welcomed them with a wide smile. “Mr. Chase, I hope that you and your guest are very hungry.”

“We are,” Deacon replied. He’d seen a mock-up of the menu and knew they were in for a treat. He didn’t actually expect to make many, if any, changes. Eduardo knew what he was doing. It was just good for him to know in advance what his guests had in store for them. “I can’t wait to see what you put together.”

Eduardo directed them to a corner booth. The decor of the bar was still a work in progress, but the majority of the key elements were in place. Along the edge of the room, the space was lined with burgundy leather booths and worn wooden tables. In the center was a rectangular bar that was accessible to guests on all sides. On the far side of the room from where they were seated, there was a stage for live music and a dance floor. Overhead, instead of a disco ball, Deacon had custom ordered a mirrored saddle, the bar’s namesake.

They had gone for a cowboy atmosphere with a modern edge, much like Cecelia’s room design, and Deacon was pretty sure they’d nailed it. In two months’ time, he had no doubt that this place would be hopping on a Saturday night.

He helped Cecelia into the booth and then sat opposite of her. Before they could place their napkins in their laps, Eduardo called the first waiter to the table with a tray of four different beverages. He set them down and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“First, I wanted to start with the beverage selection for the evening. Of course we will have an open bar that will provide whatever beverages the guests would like. However, we will be showcasing the Silver Saddle’s four featured drinks, as well.” He pointed to the two wineglasses. “Here are our two signature sangrias. The first is a traditional red wine sangria, and this here is a strawberry rosé sangria.

“Next is our take on an Arnold Palmer, but instead of sweet tea, we use sweet-tea-flavored vodka and a sprig of rosemary in the lemonade. Last is the Viva Bellamy, designed exclusively for the hotel, with aged rye whiskey, sweet vermouth, blood-orange liqueur and orange bitters. Please enjoy, and we’ll be out with the first round of tapas momentarily.” Eduardo turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

“I have to say the best part of my job might be that I get to drink without ending up in the HR office,” Deacon quipped with a grin as he picked up the old-fashioned glass containing the Viva Bellamy.

Cecelia opted for the rosé sangria. She took a sip and then smiled. “This is wonderful. It might be the best sangria I have ever had, actually. Try it.”

She held the wineglass up to his lips and tipped it until the sweet concoction flowed into his mouth. It was a lovely beverage, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. He was far more focused on Cecelia as she watched him. Perhaps Shane was smarter than Deacon gave him credit for. Feeding each other tapas could be quite the unexpectedly sensual experience for a weekday lunch at work.

Eduardo and the waiter returned a moment later with a selection of small plates. “Here we have stuffed piquillo peppers with goat cheese and seasonal mushrooms, seared scallops with English pea puree, chicken skewers with ajillo sauce, and black garlic and grilled lamb with rosemary sauce. Enjoy.”

“Wow,” Cecelia said. “This all looks amazing, and not at all what I was expecting from a place with a disco saddle hanging over the dance floor. I’d wager there’s no place like this within a hundred miles of here. People are going to trip over themselves to get to your restaurant, Deacon.”

He certainly hoped so. The array of food was both heavenly scented and visually impressive. He could just picture it being passed around on silver platters and arranged artfully along a buffet display. “Shall we?” he asked.

Cecelia nodded and looked around, considering where to start. “Do we share everything? I’ve never done tapas before, but this kind of reminds me of dim sum.”

“Yes, it’s similar. Tapas means small plates, so it’s just tiny selections of many different, shareable dishes instead of large entrée. Just try whatever you like.”

She started by reaching out and pulling a chicken skewer onto one of the empty plates they’d each been given to make the tasting easier. Deacon opted for the lamb.

Cecelia closed her eyes and made a moaning sound of pure pleasure that Deacon recognized from their night together. His body stirred at the memory of that sound echoing in his bedroom.

“Wow,” she said as she swallowed her bite and opened her eyes. “I mean, I know I said that already, but it’s true, this is so good. You have to try it.” She slid a piece of the chicken off the wooden skewer, stabbed it with her fork and held it out to him.

Deacon took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. The flavors were excellent. Her feeding him wasn’t bad, either, but he would much prefer to feed her. “That’s good. Do you like lamb?”

She nodded. He took the opportunity to stab a small cube of lamb and feed it to her. She closed her eyes again as she chewed, thoroughly enjoying the food in a way he hadn’t expected. She’d become quite the foodie since the last time they were together. He suddenly lost interest in trying the food himself, and wanted only to feed Cecelia.

He picked up one of the small stuffed peppers with his fingers and held it up to her. She leaned in, looking into his eyes as she took a bite. Her lips softly brushed his fingertips, sending a shiver through his whole body. When she finished, she took the second bite from his fingers. He tried to pull his hand away but she grabbed his wrist and held it steady.

“Don’t you dare waste that sauce,” she said. Without hesitation she drew his thumb into her mouth and sucked the spicy cream sauce from his skin.

Deacon almost came up out of his seat. The suction on this thumb combined with the swirl of her tongue against his skin made every muscle in his body tense up and his blood rush to his groin. She seemed unaffected. Cecelia pulled away with a sly smile, releasing his wrist. As though she hadn’t just given him oral pleasure, albeit to his hand, she turned back to the selection on the table and chose one of the scallops.

She was just messing with him now. And he liked it.

* * *

The plates just kept coming out of the kitchen, and Cecelia found herself in food heaven. Her roommate in college had been the daughter of a famous Manhattan chef, and she’d exposed Cecelia to cuisines she hadn’t tried back home in Texas. She’d developed a brave palate and high expectations by the time she’d graduated. The little diner in Royal had been fine before she left, but when she returned, she found herself trekking to Houston for cuisine with more flair and spice.

Now she’d have access to world-class dining right here in Royal. At that moment, Eduardo and his waiter brought out fried chorizo wrapped in thin slices of potato, a selection of imported jamón ibérico and Spanish cheeses, marinated and grilled vegetables in a Romanesco sauce, garlic shrimp and salmon tartare in salmon roe cones. By the time they got to the dessert selections, Cecelia wasn’t sure she could eat much more. She loved her sweets, but she was far more interested in the tall, handsome dish across from her at the moment.

Cecelia would be lying if she said that she hadn’t been thinking about Deacon since they shared that kiss Monday night. Part of her wondered if that had been his plan all along—to kiss her, send her home and leave her wanting more.

Cecelia did want more. There was no question of it. She just wasn’t sure if indulging her desires was the best idea. There was certainly plenty of sexual attraction flowing between them, and their night of passion would be one she would never forget. But could she risk giving herself to Deacon when she knew she might fall for him again?

It happened so quickly the first time, Cecelia had hardly known what hit her. For a while after they’d broken up, she had thought that perhaps falling in love was easy to do. The years that followed would prove otherwise. No one, not even her ex-fiancé, had captured her heart the way Deacon had. She feared he still had that power over her.

The hotel opened in a little more than two weeks. Deacon had told her that once things were up and running, he would return to Cannes. She couldn’t risk his taking her heart with him when he left. A few weeks didn’t seem like much time to be together, but Deacon was a well-known commodity to Cecelia. She knew the kind soul she once loved was still there, so even that short time was enough for her to fall miserably in love with him again, just to have him disappear from her life like before.

Cecelia wouldn’t let herself believe that this was a second chance to put things right between them. They could make peace, and already had, really, but a relationship between them seemed impossible. Even if he weren’t returning to the French Riviera in a few weeks, they both knew she was in no position to start something promising with anyone. Not with Maverick’s threat hanging overhead.

She wouldn’t blame him for indulging while he was here and not getting attached. Hell, if he broke her heart this time, it would be some sort of karmic retribution somehow. She deserved it.

Maybe she was just a masochist, but she couldn’t walk away from him. Not twice in a lifetime.

“I’ve got to sample dessert,” Deacon said, oblivious to her train of thought. “I might explode or spend this afternoon napping in my office, but I told Shane that I would try everything.” He eyed the selection of desserts on the table with dismay.

“I think you’ve still got room,” she said. She reached out and picked up a berry tartlet, bringing it up to his lips. “Take a bite.”

He didn’t resist. Deacon bit down into the sweet treat, taking half of it into his mouth. Chewing, he watched as she brought the rest of it up to her mouth and finished it off with a satisfied sound.

“Yummy,” she said and picked up another treat. This one was a small brownie with whipped cream and a dusting of what looked like chili powder. That would be interesting.

As they made their way through the rest of the desserts, Cecelia could feel them building toward something more. If it wasn’t the middle of the afternoon, she was certain he would take her home and make love to her. As it was, she wouldn’t be surprised if he escorted her into his office and locked the door. The entire meal had been the tastiest foreplay she’d ever had. It made her want to spend the weekend in bed with him, and she would if it wasn’t for that pesky engagement party she had to go to tomorrow night.

It occurred to her that there might be one way to get through the evening after all. “Deacon, can I ask you for a favor?”

He leaned in, causing the most delicious tingles as he smoothed his palm down her arm. “Anything.”

“Would you go with me to Wes and Isabelle’s engagement party at the club?” She had no doubt that the gossip would be flying about her breakup with Chip, and it would be so much easier if she had Deacon there with her to soften the blow.

Deacon narrowed his gaze at her. “The club? The Texas Cattleman’s Club? Are you serious?”

Cecelia frowned. “Of course I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be serious? I’m a member. Everyone in town practically is a member now. What’s the big deal?”

With a sigh, Deacon sat back against the leather of the booth. “The big deal is that I’m not a member. They would never let me be a member. I don’t exactly relish hanging out someplace where I’m not wanted.”

Sometimes Cecelia forgot how hard it was for Deacon to live in Royal back when they were kids. He had never fit in with the others driving the BMWs they got for their sweet sixteenth and going home to their mansions at night. She never really thought about it, because none of it ever mattered to her. He had simply been the most wonderful boy she’d ever known. The fact that he’d driven a beat-up pickup truck and lived in a small, unimpressive house on the edge of town hadn’t been important.

But it had been important to him both then and now, gauging by his reaction. Even though he was successful, even though he could buy and sell half the people in this town, he still had a chip on his shoulder.

“You’re not seventeen and broke anymore, Deacon. Stop worrying about all those other people and what they might or might not think. Actually, most of them are so self-centered that they won’t be nearly as concerned with your being at the club as they will be about a million other things.”

She leaned into him and took his hand. The touch of his skin against hers made her long for the night they’d spent together with his hands gliding over her naked body. Cecelia really did want him to go to the party with her, and not just as a buffer from the ire of the town. She wanted to go back to his place afterward and spend all night relishing the feel of him against her.

Cecelia looked in his eyes, hoping they reflected her intentions and thoughts. She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb in the slow, lazy circles guaranteed to drive him wild and get her exactly what she wanted. “Come with me. Please.”

Jaw tight, his gaze dropped to his hand. With a soft shake of his head, he sighed. “Okay, you win. When is this engagement party?”

“Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. Will that work for you?”

Deacon nodded. “I suppose. Will I get some sort of special reward for being your escort for the evening?” he asked with a grin lighting his eyes.

“You absolutely will,” she promised. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“I do.” Deacon took her hand and scooped it up in his own. He pressed his fingertips into the palm of her hand and stroked gently but firmly, turning her own trick on her. It was easy to imagine those hands on her body, those fingers stroking the fires that burned deep inside her. “What are you doing after work today?” he asked.

Her gaze met his, a small smile curling her lips even as he continued to tease her with his fingertips. “Nothing much,” she said coyly. “What do you plan to do tonight?”

Deacon leaned into her, burying his fingers in the loose hair at the nape of her neck and bringing her lips a fraction of an inch from his own. She wanted to close the gap between them and lose herself in his kiss. It was all she wanted, all she could think of when they were this close. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips. Her tongue snaked across her bottom lip to wet it in anticipation of his kiss.

Instead he smiled and let his fingers trace along the line of her jaw. “Why, I plan to be doing you, Miss Morgan.”

Seven

“So, are you friends with Wes or Isabelle?” Deacon asked as they slipped into the crowd mingling at the clubhouse.

Cecelia twisted her lips as she tried to come up with a good answer. “Neither, really. Wes and I are business rivals. We dated a while back, but that’s it. I don’t really know Isabelle that well, either.”

“Why would he invite his ex to his engagement party?”

That was a good question, considering she was also the reason he’d gone years without knowing he had a daughter. She still felt bad about misjudging that whole situation. She’d helped to correct it in the end, but Wes would never get that time back, and that was her fault. “Well, in a roundabout way, I did help bring him and Isabelle back together after they broke up a few years ago.”

“How’s that?”

She shook her head and reached out for a flute of champagne being passed on a tray by a waiter in the standard black-and-white uniform of the club. Cecelia hesitated to tell Deacon what she’d done. He still saw her as the sweet girl he’d dated in school, and she didn’t want him to see her any differently. “You don’t want to know.”

“Not good?” Deacon asked.

She shrugged. “Let’s just say it wasn’t my finest moment. But it all turned out well in the end, and since Isabelle invited me despite it all, I knew I needed to come and work on mending those bridges.” Leaning into him, she spoke quieter so others nearby couldn’t hear her. “I fear that before too long, I’ll need all the friends I can get.”

Deacon slipped a protective arm around her waist. “If anyone so much as says an ugly word to you tonight, I’ll punch them in the jaw.”

Cecelia smiled and leaned into his embrace. She wouldn’t mind seeing Chip sprawled across the worn hardwood floor of the club, but that would cause more trouble than it was worth. And she probably deserved some of those ugly words. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

As they turned back toward the crowd, the people parted and Isabelle rushed forward to give Cecelia a hug. She looked radiant tonight in a shimmering bronze cocktail dress that brought out the copper in her hazel eyes. “Cecelia, you made it! I’m so glad.”

Cecelia accepted the hug and smiled as warmly as she could. Once she realized she’d been wrong about Isabelle’s gold-digging ways, she found she really did like her. Now she just had to fight off the pangs of envy where Wes’s fiancée was concerned. Soon, Isabelle would have the family that Cecelia had always wanted. She shouldn’t hold that against her, though. It was a long time coming, raising Caroline as a single mother, in part because of Cecelia’s meddling.

Turning to her date, Cecelia introduced them. “Isabelle, this is Deacon Chase. He’s building The Bellamy with Shane Delgado.”

Isabelle smiled and shook his hand. “I’m so excited for the hotel to open. It looks amazing from the outside.”

Cecelia could tell Deacon was nervous, but he was handling it well. “Thank you,” he said politely. “It looks amazing on the inside, too, thanks to Cecelia’s great designs. Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thank you.”

“It looks like a great turnout,” Cecelia noted. “Even Teddy Bradford is here.” That was a surprise to everyone, she was certain. She knew the CEO of Playco had been in merger negotiations with Wes before Maverick outed him as a deadbeat dad. Teddy espoused family values and had dropped Wes’s Texas Toy Company like a rock when he found out about Isabelle and Caroline.

“I actually invited him,” Isabelle confided. “I haven’t given up on the Playco merger, even if Wes thinks all is lost. I’m hoping that when he sees us together he’ll reconsider the deal.”

Cecelia could only nod blankly at Isabelle’s machinations. The merger of Playco and Texas Toy Company wouldn’t be good news for To the Moon and its bottom line, which is why Cecelia had kept her mouth shut where that was concerned. Wes was her biggest business rival. However, the success of Luna Fine Furnishings would make her untouchable if she could compete in both the adult and child luxury design markets. At the moment, things were going well enough that she didn’t care if Teddy took Wes back.

“Good luck with that,” she managed politely. “And congratulations on the engagement.”

Isabelle crossed her fingers and said her goodbyes, slipping away to find Wes in the crowd. Once she was gone, Cecelia and Deacon continued to make their way through the room, saying hello and mingling appropriately. When they found the food, they each made a small plate and had a seat among some of the other guests. A long buffet had been set up for the party, with the centerpiece being a cake shaped like two hearts side by side with a third, smaller heart piped in pastel pink icing on top to represent their daughter. It was sweet.

They were perhaps an hour into the party, with no sign of Chip, and Cecelia was finally starting to relax. Maybe this event wouldn’t be such a nightmare. Being there with Deacon had changed everything. She felt confident on his arm, which was a far cry from the times she’d gone to events with Chip. She was always on edge with him, wondering if she looked good enough, if she was saying the right thing... Now that it was over, she couldn’t imagine a lifetime of being his wife. All she would have ever been was a prop he’d haul out at campaign rallies and fund-raisers. A Stepford wife in a tasteful linen suit with helmet hair and a single strand of pearls.

No way. Those days were behind her, and she’d never make that mistake again.

“I would like to propose a toast,” Teddy Bradford said as he took position center stage with the microphone to draw everyone’s attention. Cecelia noted that the boisterous old man was wearing his best bolo tie for the occasion. The crowd gathered around the stage to hear what he had to say. “Wesley, Isabelle, get on up here!”

The happy couple walked hand in hand to the stage and to stand beside Teddy.

“No one here is happier to see these two lovebirds tie the knot than I am. To me, and to the employees of Playco, family is everything. I had thought that perhaps Wesley felt differently, but I’m pleased—for once—to be proven wrong. Not only do I want to wish the couple all the happiness in the world, I want to wish it as Wesley’s new business partner.”

His words were followed by a roar of applause from the crowd. Wes turned to Isabelle with a look of shock on his face before he turned and shook Teddy’s hand. Cecelia could only smile. Isabelle seemed sweet, but she was shrewd, as well. She had managed to accomplish tonight what Wes had been unable to over the past three months. Bravo. Perhaps she had more competition in the Texas Toy Company than she thought with Isabelle behind the scenes.

Wes turned back to Isabelle, they kissed and everyone in the club went wild. Deacon held Cecelia tighter to his side as though he sensed tension in her.

“Is this bad news for your company?” he whispered in her ear. Clearly, he knew it was or he wouldn’t be asking.

“Perhaps, but I’m trying not to look at it that way. Those kinds of thoughts were what landed me such a miserable reputation in town. That’s a worry for another day. Tonight I’d rather focus on the happy couple.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss into her temple. “Then that’s what we’re going to do.”

Cecelia sighed contentedly in his arms while Isabelle and Wes cut the cake and pieces started circulating around the room. “They cut the cake,” she noted. “Cake is the universal sign at parties that it’s finally okay to take your leave.”

“Are you ready to go so soon?” Deacon asked. “I thought you were having a good time. And it looks like strawberry cake. We should probably at least stick around to have some. I love strawberry cake.”

“When did you get such a sweet tooth?” Cecelia asked.

“It started back in high school when I couldn’t get enough of your sugar.”

Cecelia laughed aloud and leaned close. “You don’t need any cake, then. You’re getting plenty of sugar once we get out of here. You’ve made it through the night with no complaints, and you should be rewarded.”

Deacon smiled. “I’m glad you agree. It wasn’t that bad, though.” His glance moved around the room at the club and the people who frequented it. “I think I’d made more of this place in my mind because I couldn’t be a part of it.”

“No one would dare keep you out now.”

Cecelia felt her phone vibrate in her purse, but she wasn’t going to get it out just yet. As they waited on cake, she noticed quite a few people pulling theirs out.

“Oh, my God, honey.” Simone ran up to her and clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back a sob.

Cecelia looked at her and again around the room in sudden panic. One person after another seemed to be looking down at his or her phone. The feeling of dread was hard for Cecelia to suppress. Especially when those same people immediately sought out Cecelia when they looked up.

Had Maverick’s deadline already come and gone so soon? She had consciously decided not to pay the blackmail money again, but she never dreamed it would come out tonight, while she was at the club with everyone else.

“What is it?” she asked as innocently as she could, although she already knew the answer.

Simone held up her phone, showing the screen to her and Deacon. An old newspaper article about the drug overdose of Nicole Wood was there. It even featured the photo of Nicole and her infant daughter, the same one Cecelia carried in her purse. The section was circled in red and accompanied by a note:

Cecelia Morgan? More like Cecelia Wood—a liar and the daughter of a junkie and her dealer. No wonder the Morgans hid the truth. The homecoming queen isn’t so perfect now, is she?

Deacon’s arms tightened around Cecelia as she felt her knees start to buckle beneath her. It was only his support that kept her upright. She looked around the room, and it seemed like everyone was looking at her as though she smelled like horse manure.

Her head started to swim as she heard the voices in the room combine together into a low rumble. She could pick out only pieces of it.

“Who knew she was so low class?”

“I should’ve known she wasn’t really a Morgan. But it looks like she’s not Maverick, either.”

“Her mother probably used drugs during her pregnancy, too. I wonder if that’s why Cecelia is so incapable of empathy.”

“Have they ever revoked someone’s club membership for fraud?”

“You can see the resemblance between her and this Nicole woman. She never had Tilly’s classically beautiful features.”

Cecelia covered her ears with her hands to smother the voices. Her face flushed red, and tears started pouring from her eyes. Deacon said something to her, but she couldn’t hear him. All she could feel was her world crumbling around her. She should’ve made the second blackmail payment. What was she thinking? That he would decide maybe that first payment was enough? That people wouldn’t judge her the way she would’ve judged them not long ago?

It was a huge mistake, and yet, she knew this was a moment that couldn’t be avoided no matter how much cash she shelled out. It wasn’t about the money, she knew that much. He probably didn’t care if he made a dime in the process. Maverick was set on ruining people’s lives.

He would be a happy man tonight.

* * *

Deacon didn’t know who Maverick was, but he sure as hell was going to find out. Why did this sick bastard get pleasure out of hurting people in the club? Deacon would be the first to admit this wasn’t his favorite crowd of people, but who would stoop that low? If he could get his hands on Maverick right now, the coward would have bigger concerns than whose life he could make miserable next.

First things first, however. He could see Cecelia breaking down, and it made his chest ache. He had to get her away from this. With every eye in the room on them, he wrapped his arm around Cecelia and tried to guide her to the exit. She stumbled a few times, as though her legs were useless beneath her, so he stopped long enough to scoop her into his arms and carry her out. She didn’t fight his heroics. Instead, she clung desperately to him, burying her face in the lapel of his suit.

The crowd parted as they made their way to the door. Half the people in the room looked disgusted. Some were in shock. A few more looked worried, probably concerned that their dark secret might be the next exposed by Maverick. There were only a few people in the room who looked at all concerned about Cecelia herself, and that made him almost as angry as he was with the blackmailing bastard that started this mess.

That was the problem with this town—the cliquish bullshit was ridiculous. It was just as bad in high school as it was now. It made him glad that he’d decided to leave Royal instead of staying in this toxic environment.

The problem was that most of the people in the town were in the clique, so they didn’t see the issue. It was only the outsiders who suffered by their viper-pit mentality. Deacon had always been an outsider, and money and prestige hadn’t changed that, not really. He’d gotten through the doors of the club tonight, but he still didn’t fit in. And he didn’t want to.

Yet if he had to bet money on Maverick’s identity, he’d put it on another outsider. Whoever it was was just kicking the hornet’s nest for fun, watching TCC members turn on each other so they would know what it felt like to be him.

Cecelia didn’t need to be around for the fallout. This entire situation was out of her control, and she would be the one to suffer unnecessarily for it. Brent and Tilly should be here, taking on their share of the club’s disgust for forcing her to live this lie to begin with. If they’d been honest about adopting Cecelia, there would’ve been nothing for Maverick to hold over her head.

He shoved the heavy oak door open with his foot and carried her out to the end of the portico. There, he settled her back on her feet. “Are you okay to stand?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, sniffing and wiping the streams of mascara from her flush cheeks.

“I’m going to go get my car. Will you be okay?”

She nodded. Deacon reached into his pocket to get his keys, but before he could step into the parking lot, a figure stumbled out of the dark bushes nearby. He didn’t recognize the man, but he didn’t like the looks of him, either. He was thin with stringy hair and bugged-out eyes. Even without the stink of alcohol and the stumble in his steps, Deacon could tell this was a guy on the edge. Maybe even the kind of guy who would blackmail the whole town.

“Cecelia Wood?” he asked, with a lopsided smile that revealed a mess of teeth inside. “Shoulda seen that one coming, right? Nobody is that perfect. Even a princess like you needs to be knocked off their high horse every now and then, right?”

Deacon stepped protectively between him and Cecelia. “Who the hell is this guy?” he asked.

“Adam Haskell,” she whispered over his shoulder. “He has a small ranch on the edge of town. I’m surprised he hasn’t lost it to the banks yet. All he does is drink anymore.”

The name sounded familiar from Deacon’s childhood, but the man in front of him had lived too many rough years to be recognizable. “Why don’t you call a cab and sleep that booze off, Adam?”

The drunk didn’t even seem to hear him. He was focused entirely on Cecelia. “You had it coming, you know. You can only go through life treating people like dirt for so long before karma comes back and slaps you across the face. Now you’re getting a taste of your own medicine.”

“Now, that’s enough,” Deacon said more forcefully. This time he got Adam’s attention.

“Look at Deacon Chase all grow-w-wn up,” he slurred. “You should hate her as much as I do. She treated you worse than anyone else. Used you and spit you out when she didn’t need you anymore.”

“Adam!” A man’s sharp voice came from the doorway of the club. A lanky but solid man with short blond hair stepped outside with a redhead at his side.

“Mac and Violet McCallum!” Adam said as he turned his attention to them, nearly losing his drunken footing and falling over. “You’re just in time. I was telling Deacon here how he’s made a mistake trying to protect her. She’s made her bed, it’s time for her to lie in it, don’t you think?”

Deacon’s hands curled into fists of rage at his sides. He was getting tired of this guy’s mouth. If he couldn’t get his hands on Maverick, Mr. Haskell would do in a pinch.

“All right, Adam, you know you’re not supposed to be here on the property if you’re not a member of the club. They’ll call the sheriff on you again. You can’t afford the bail.”

“Best sleep I ever get is in the drunk tank,” he declared proudly, then belched.

“Even then.” Mac came up to Adam and put an arm around his shoulder. “How about we give you a ride home, Adam? You don’t need to be driving.”

Adam pouted in disappointment, but he didn’t fight Mac off. “Aw, I’m just having a little fun with her. Right, Cecelia? No harm done.”

Mac just shook his head. “Well, tonight’s not a good night for it. I’m pretty sure the party is over. If you stay around here any longer, it might be a fist and not the vodka that knocks you out tonight.”

Mac was right. Deacon was glad the couple had intervened when they had or he might’ve had to get physical with the scrawny drunk.

“I can take anyone,” Adam muttered.

“I’m sure you can,” Mac agreed and rolled his eyes. “But let’s not risk it tonight and ruin Isabelle’s party any more than it already has been.”

Mac led Adam toward his truck while Violet stayed behind with Deacon and Cecelia. “I’m so sorry, Cecelia,” she said. “This whole thing with Maverick is getting out of hand. I can’t imagine who would want to hurt everyone so badly. And the way people reacted...it’s not right.”

Cecelia came out from behind Deacon, still clinging to his arm. “Thank you, Violet.”

The redhead just nodded sadly and followed Mac and Adam out into the parking lot. Cecelia watched her go with a heavy sigh. “There goes one of the five people in town who hasn’t turned on me.”

He hated hearing that kind of defeat from her. Cecelia was his fighter. He wasn’t about to let Maverick beat her down. “You know what you need?” Deacon asked. “You need to get away from here.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to go home if you don’t mind.”

Home wouldn’t help. Word about her would just spread through town like wildfire, and soon everyone would know. Her parents would show up lamenting how embarrassing this was for them and making Cecelia feel even worse. Her friends would drop in to commiserate and reopen the wounds she was struggling to heal. No, she needed to get the hell out of Royal for a few days.

“I have another idea.” Deacon took her hand and led her to his car. After the scene with Adam, he was too worried to leave her alone in case a partygoer came out of the club and had something nasty to say. When they got to his car, he opened the door and helped her in. “You’re not going home.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I’m not? Where are we going, then? To your place?”

Deacon shook his head and closed her door. He climbed into his side and revved the engine. He had bigger, better plans than just hiding her away at his wood-and-stone sanctuary. “I guess you could look at it that way.”

He pulled out of the parking lot and picked up his phone. He dialed his private jet service and made all the necessary arrangements while Cecelia sat looking confused and beat down in the seat beside him.

Finally, he hung up and put the phone down. “It’s all handled.”

Cecelia turned in her seat to look at him. “You said we were going to your place, but that’s back the other way. Then you have some vague conversation about going home for a few days. That doesn’t make any sense. Where are we going, Deacon?”

He smiled, hoping this little mystery was enough to distract her from the miserable night. “Well, first we’re stopping at your place so you can pack a bag and grab your passport.”

He turned in time to see her silvery, gray eyes widen. “My passport? Why on earth...?”

Deacon grinned. This was a turn of events he hadn’t expected, but it was the perfect escape. She needed to get away, he wanted to show her his crown jewel...it all worked out. By the time they returned to Royal, perhaps some new gossip from Maverick would crop up and make everyone forget about Cecelia’s birth mother.

“Yes, and once you’re packed, we’re going to the airport where a private jet is waiting to take the two of us to one of my other properties, the Hotel de Rêve.”

Cecelia sat in shock beside him. It took a few moments before she could respond. “Deacon, your other hotel is in France.”

He pulled into her driveway and put the Corvette into Park. “Yes. Hence the need for your passport. Pack for the French Riviera in the spring.”

She shook her head, making her blond waves dance around her shoulders. Cecelia had really looked lovely tonight, in a beautiful and clingy gray lace dress that brought out the gray in her eyes, but he’d barely had time to appreciate it between the mingling and the drama.

“No, Deacon, this is crazy talk. I can’t go to France tonight even if I wanted to. The Bellamy opens in two weeks. I have so much to do—”

“Your staff has things to do,” he interrupted, “and they know what those things are. You’re not carrying furniture and wiring lamps into the wall. You’re the designer, and most of your work is handled. Shane will oversee everything else, I promise. You and I are getting out of this town for a few days to let this whole mess blow over. End of discussion.”

The way Cecelia looked at him, he could tell it wasn’t the end of the discussion yet. “Couldn’t we just go to Houston or something to get away? Maybe New Orleans? No one would know where we were. We don’t have to go all the way to France, do we?”

Deacon disagreed. He turned off the car and got out, opening her door. “Yes, we do.”

“Why?” she persisted as she stood to look at him.

“Because I don’t own a hotel in New Orleans. Now get inside and pack that bag. The plane leaves for Cannes in an hour.”

Eight

Cecelia woke up in a nest of soft, luxury linens with bright light streaming through the panoramic hotel room windows. Wincing from the light, she pushed herself up in bed and looked around the suite for Deacon. She could see him on the balcony reading a newspaper and drinking his café au lait at a tiny bistro table there.

She wrapped the blanket around her naked body and padded barefoot to the sliding glass door. The view from the owner’s suite of the Hotel de Rêve was spectacular. The hotel was almost directly on the beach, with only the famous Boulevard de la Croisette separating his property from the golden sands that lined the Mediterranean Sea. To the left of the hotel was a marina filled with some the largest and most luxurious yachts she’d ever seen. To the right, beautiful, tan tourists had already taken up residence on the beach.

The sea was a deep turquoise against the bright robin’s-egg blue of the sky. There wasn’t a cloud, a blemish, a single thing to ruin the perfection. It was almost as if the place wasn’t real. When they’d first arrived the day before, Cecelia wasn’t entirely certain that this wasn’t a delusion brought on by jet lag. But after a quick nap, Cannes was just as pretty as it had been earlier. Of course, enjoying it with the handsome—and partially clothed—hotel owner hadn’t hurt, either.

“Bonjour, belle,” he greeted her. He was sitting in a pair of black silk pajama pants, and thankfully, he seemed to have misplaced the top. His golden tan and chiseled chest and arms were on display, and now she knew how he had gotten that dark. If she spent every morning enjoying the sun here, she might actually get a little color for her porcelain complexion, as well.

Cecelia didn’t know why she was surprised to find that he was fluent in French, considering Deacon had lived here for several years and had to interact with guests, locals and staff, alike. She supposed it just didn’t align with the Deacon she had once known—covered in motor oil or rinsing cafeteria trays—although it suited Deacon perfectly as he was now.

It made her wish she had kept up with her French studies after high school. She’d quickly lost most of her vocabulary and conjugation, really being able to function now only as a tourist asking for directions to the nearest restroom. “Bonjour,” she replied in her most practiced accent. “That’s about all the French I have for today.”

Deacon laughed and folded his paper, which was also in French. “That’s okay,” he said, leaning forward to give her a good-morning kiss. “Perhaps later we can crawl back into bed and practice a little more French.”

Cecelia couldn’t suppress the girlish giggle at his innuendo. Deacon was smart to bring her to Cannes. There was just something about being here, thousands of miles away from Royal and all her worries, that made her feel like a completely different person. She liked this person a hell of a lot more than the woman who had very nearly married Chip Ashford. Apparently most of Royal hadn’t liked her, either, judging by their reaction to her being knocked down a peg or two by Maverick’s gossip.

Cecelia sat down at the table next to him, and he poured her a cup of coffee, passing her the pitcher of milk to add as much as she would like. He followed it with a plate of flaky, fresh croissants and preserves.

“Do you have anything in mind that you would like to do today?” he asked. “Yesterday we were too exhausted to do much more than change time zones, but I thought you might like to see a little bit of the town this afternoon. You haven’t been to Cannes if you haven’t strolled along la Croisette, sipped a beautiful rosé and watched the sunset. We could even take my yacht out for a spin.”

She took a large sip of her coffee and nodded into her delicate china teacup. “That sounds lovely. I’ve never been to the French Riviera, so I would be happy to see anything that you would like to show me. I mean,” she continued, “it’s not like this is a trip that I’ve planned for a long time. I basically just let you sweep me off my feet and I woke up in France. I would be perfectly content to just sit on this balcony and look out at the sea if that was all we had time to do.”

Deacon smiled. “Well, I figure there is no place on earth better suited to relax and forget about all your problems than the French Riviera. I’ve seen more than one tightly wound businessman completely transform in only a few days. After everything that has happened recently, I think it’s just what the doctor ordered, Miss Morgan.”

She couldn’t argue with that. He was absolutely right. Here, the drama of Maverick and the fallout of her exposed secret felt like a distant memory, or a dream that she’d nearly forgotten about as she’d awakened. She had gotten a couple texts from Simone and her mother yesterday morning after they’d landed, but Deacon had insisted she turn off her phone. Overage charges for international roaming were a good excuse, he’d said, and once again he had been right. She didn’t want talk to her mother or anyone else right now.

She just wanted to soak in the glorious rays of the sun, enjoy the beauty around her and relish her time alone with Deacon. They would return home soon enough to open the hotel, and she’d finally face everything she had been running from her whole life.

“I took the liberty of scheduling an appointment for you at our spa today. My talented ladies have been told to give you the works, so a massage, a mud bath, a facial... Whatever your little heart desires. That should take up a good chunk of your day, and then we can hit the shore later this afternoon, once you’ve been properly pampered.”

Cecelia could only shake her head and thank her lucky stars that she had Deacon here with her through all of this. How would she have coped alone? Just having him by her side would’ve been enough, but he always had to go the extra mile, and she appreciated it. She just wasn’t sure how she could ever repay him.

She idly slathered a bit of orange marmalade on a piece of croissant and popped it into her mouth. “You’re too good to me, Deacon,” she said as she chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t deserve any of this VIP treatment. I’m beginning to think that maybe Adam Haskell was right, and all the negativity I’ve been breeding all these years was just coming back to haunt me. It had to eventually, right?”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Deacon said. “The girl I fell in love with was sweet and caring and saw things in me that no one else saw. You might pretend now that you are a cold-as-ice businesswoman set to crush your competitors and anybody who gets in your way, but I don’t believe it for a second. That girl I know is still in there somewhere.”

Cecelia appreciated that he had so much faith in her, but she wasn’t the innocent girl he knew from back in school. That girl had been smothered the day her parents forced her to break up with Deacon and put her life back on track to the future that they wanted for her. She had become an unfortunate mix of both her parents—a cutthroat business owner, a perfection-seeking elitist and, more often than she would have liked, a plain old bitch. He hadn’t been around to see the changes in her, but she knew it was true. She was absolutely certain that most of the people in town were thrilled to see her taken down a notch. Maybe even a few of the people whom she’d once considered her friends.

“I’m glad you think so highly of me, Deacon, but I can’t help but wonder if you’re actually seeing me as I am, or as you want to see me.”

“I see you as you are, beneath the designer clothes, fancy makeup and social facade you’ve crafted. That girl hasn’t changed. She’s still in there, you just haven’t let her out in a long time.”

Cecelia felt tears start to well in her eyes as her cheeks burned with emotion. She really hoped that he was right, and that the good person he remembered was still here. It seemed like over the past decade she had lost touch with herself, if she had ever really known who she truly was. She’d spent her whole life trying to live up to her parents’ expectations, then Chip’s expectations...

Who was Cecelia Morgan anyway?

She wiped her damp cheek with the back of her hand and reached for her coffee cup to give her something to focus on instead of the emotions raging just beneath the surface. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Deacon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the knees of his pajama pants. “That’s the beauty of being in charge of your own life and not trying to live up to anybody else’s standards. You can do whatever you want to do. If I had just sat back and accepted the life that everyone expected of me, we wouldn’t be sitting on the balcony of my five-star hotel in France. I wanted to be more, so I made myself more. You can be whoever you want to be, Cecelia, and if that means putting aside the mean-girl persona you’ve had all these years, and being the girl I used to know, you can do that, too.”

“Can I?” she asked. “I’m not entirely sure that girl knew who she was, either. I was so easily manipulated at that age. I mean, all those plans we made, all those dreams we had for the future...that was important to me and I threw it all away. For what? Because my parents threatened to cut me off and throw me out of the house if I didn’t.”

Deacon’s head turned sharply toward her. “What?”

Cecelia winced. “You didn’t know that?”

His expression softened. “I suppose I knew they were ultimately behind your change of heart, but I thought you just wanted to please them as you always did.”

“I did want to please them, but not about this. I loved you, Deacon. I didn’t want to break up with you. It broke my heart to do it, but I felt like I didn’t have any choice. They were my parents. The only people in the world who had wanted me when no one else did. I couldn’t bear for them to turn their backs on me.”

“I wanted you.”

Cecelia looked into Deacon’s serious green eyes and realized she had made a monumental mistake that day all those years ago. Yes, she had a booming business and he had been successful on his own, but what could they have built together? They’d never know.

“I was a fool,” she admitted. “I don’t want to make the same mistake again. I want to make the right choice for my life this time.”

Cecelia sipped her coffee and tried to think of who she wanted to be. Not who her parents wanted her to be. Not who Chip expected her to be. The answer came to her faster than she anticipated. She wanted to be the woman she was when she was with Deacon. When she was with him she felt strong and brave and beautiful. She never felt like she wasn’t good enough. That was how she wanted to feel: loved.

But could she feel that way without him? Their time together had been exciting and romantic, but she had no doubt there was a time limit. Deacon had no interest in staying in Royal. He didn’t like the town and he didn’t like the people, and for a good reason. When The Bellamy was opened and running, he would return here to France, and she didn’t blame him. This may very well be the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. She would be eager to return, as well.

She might feel like a superhero when she was with him, but once she was alone, could she be her own kryptonite?

* * *

“Dinner was wonderful,” Cecelia said.

Deacon took her hand and they strolled along la Croisette together. The sun had already set, leaving the sky a golden color that was quickly being overtaken by the inky purple of early evening. The lights from the shops and restaurants along the walkway lighted their path and the crests of the ocean waves beyond them.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. There’s no such thing as bad food in France. They wouldn’t allow it.”

Cecelia laughed and Deacon found himself trying to memorize the sound. He hadn’t heard her laughter nearly enough when they were in Royal. He missed it. In their carefree younger days, she’d laughed freely and often. He wanted her to laugh more even if he wasn’t around to hear it. That was part of the reason he’d brought her here—to get her away from the drama of home in the hopes he might catch a fleeting glimpse of the girl he’d once loved.

Not that he didn’t appreciate the woman she’d become. The older, wiser, sexier Cecelia certainly had its benefits. Looking at her now, he could hardly keep his hands to himself. She was wearing a cream lace fitted sheath dress. It plunged deep, highlighting her ample cleavage, and clung to every womanly curve she’d developed while they were apart. Falling for Cecelia was the last thing on his mind when he arrived in Royal, but it was virtually impossible for him to keep his distance from her when she looked like that.

“Can we walk in the water?” she asked, surprising him.

“If you want to.”

They both slipped out of their shoes, and Deacon rolled up his suit pants. He hadn’t thought she would want to walk along the shore and let the sand ruin her new pedicure. Yet with her crystal embellished stilettos in her free hand, she tugged him off the stone path toward the water.

The cold water that washed over them was a shocking contrast to the warm sand on his bare feet. He expected Cecelia to bolt the moment the chill hit her, but instead, her eyes got big with excitement and she laughed again.

“It’s a little chilly,” he said.

“It’s April. It feels good, though. I can’t remember the last time I put my toes in the sand and walked through the surf. Too long.”

Deacon felt momentarily sheepish. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it, either, and it was right outside his window the majority of the year.

“I understand why you’d rather be here than Royal,” she said after they walked a good bit down the shoreline. “It’s beautiful. And so different. I don’t know that I want to go back, either.” She chuckled and shook her head. “I will, but I don’t want to.”

Deacon felt the sudden urge to ask her why she couldn’t stay. “Why go back?” he asked. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Well, for one thing, I haven’t finished your hotel yet. It opens in just a week and a half, if you’ll recall. Plus, my company is in Royal. My employees. My friends and family.”

“You could have all that here,” he offered. “And me, too.” Deacon surprised himself with the words, but he couldn’t stop them from coming out. What would it be like to have her here with him all the time? Away from her parents’ sphere of influence and the society nonsense she’d fallen prey to. He wanted to know.

Cecelia stopped walking, pulling him to a stop beside her. “You’re not going to stay in Royal, are you?”

He shook his head. “You know I’m not.”

Cecelia’s gaze drifted into the distance. “I know. I guess a part of me was just hoping.”

Deacon’s heart sped in his chest. He hadn’t given much thought to this fling with Cecelia lasting beyond the grand opening. He just couldn’t disappoint himself that way. But it sounded like she was open to the possibility. “Hoping what?” he pressed.

“Hoping that you’d change your mind and stay awhile.”

Deacon sighed. There were a lot of things he would do for her, but stay in Royal? He couldn’t even imagine it. He didn’t know why she’d ask him to, either. Didn’t she realize how everyone treated him? How miserable it was for him? She didn’t seem very happy there, either. “Royal, Texas, and I parted ways a long time ago.”

Cecelia looked at him. “We parted ways, too, and yet here we are. Anything can happen.”

He didn’t want to argue about this and ruin their night. They were together now, and that was the most important thing. “You’re right,” he conceded. “Anything can happen. We’ll see what the future brings.”

Taking her hand into his, they started back down the beach. They were only a hundred yards or so from his hotel when he saw a child chasing after a dog on the beach. The little boy must’ve dropped the leash, and the large, wooly mutt seemed quite pleased with his newfound freedom.

In fact, the dog was heading right toward them. Before Deacon could react, the dog made a beeline for Cecelia. It jumped up, placing two dirty paw prints on her chest and knocking her off balance. Her hand slipped from his as she stumbled back and fell into the waves that were rushing up around their feet. She yelled as she tried—and failed—to find her footing in the icy water, soaking her dress and hair.

Deacon was in a panic and so was the little boy. They both lunged to pull the dog off her as it enthusiastically licked her face. It wasn’t until the dog was yanked away that he realized Cecelia’s shrieks were actually laughter. He stood, stunned for a moment by her reaction. Then he offered her his hand to lift her up out of the water, but she didn’t take it. She was laughing too hard to care.

It was the damnedest thing he’d ever seen. The people back in Royal wouldn’t believe it if Maverick circulated a picture of it. The perfect and poised Cecelia Morgan lying in the ocean fully clothed and covered in mud. The cream lace dress was absolutely ruined with dirty paw prints rubbed down the front. Her makeup was smeared across her skin, and her blond hair hung in damp tendrils around her face. She was a mess. But she didn’t seem to care. And she couldn’t have been more beautiful.

“Je m’excuse, mademoiselle,” the little boy said as he fought with the dog that weighed a good ten pounds more than he did. “Mauvais chien!” he chastised the pup, who finally sat down looking smug about the whole thing.

“Cecelia, are you okay?” Deacon asked. He wasn’t sure what to do.

She struggled to catch her breath, then nodded. Her face was flushed bright red beneath the smears of her foundation and mascara. “I’m fine.” She reached up for Deacon, and when he took her hand, she tugged hard, catching him off guard and jerking him down into the water with her.

“What the—” he complained as he pushed up from the water, soaked, but the joyful expression on her face stopped him. He rolled up to a seated position beside her. “Was that really necessary?” he asked.

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Deacon instantly forgot about the water, the dog, the cost of his ruined suit... All that mattered was the taste of Cecelia on his lips and the press of her body against his. She was uninhibited and free in his arms, kissing him with the same abandon she had that first night after her breakup with Chip. There was no desperation this time, however. Just excitement and need.

He couldn’t help but respond to it. This side of Cecelia was one he thought he might never see again. It was the side that had made out with him in the back of his truck, letting him get her hair and makeup all disheveled. It was the side that had sprayed him with the hose while he was detailing one of his restored cars and led to them getting covered in mud and grass as they wrestled on his front lawn.

Deacon had missed this Cecelia. Perfectly imperfect. Dirty. Joyful. Hot as hell. He realized that they weren’t alone in the back of his truck, however. The little French boy and his dog were still standing there. He forced himself to pull away, looking over the mess she’d become.

The dress had been tight before, but wet, it was clingy and damn near see-through. He could see the hardened peaks of her nipples pressing through the fabric. He would have to give her his coat to cover her when they walked home.

“Américains fous,” the little boy said with a dismayed shake of his head. He tugged on the dog’s leash and headed back in the direction he’d come from.

“What did he say?” Cecelia asked.

“He called us crazy Americans.” Deacon wiped the water from his face and slicked back his hair. “I have to say I agree.”

Cecelia giggled into her hand and looked down at her dress. Her fingers traced over some of the sand and mud embedded in the delicate lace and silk. “My mother just bought me this dress for Christmas. It was the first time I’d worn it. Oh, well.”

“I’ll buy you ten new dresses,” he said. Deacon pushed himself up out of the water and helped her up, too. He slipped out of his suit coat, wringing out the water before placing it over her shoulders.

“I don’t want more dresses,” she said, pressing her body to his seductively with the little boy long gone. A wicked glint lit her eyes as her lips curled into a deceptively sweet smile. “I just want you. Right now.”

Deacon swallowed hard. “I think this walk along the beach is over, don’t you?”

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