The Love Child. Catherine Mann

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СКАЧАТЬ you. He’s been very cooperative.”

      She glanced at Isabeau, grinning. “I bet he has.”

      Isabeau chose to ignore the insinuation. “This was a nice chance to watch how he interacts and make notes of what to work on over the next few weeks.”

      “We’re lucky to have you. Takes a lot of pressure off us.” Naomi skimmed another touch across her pregnant stomach. Her long, slender face gazing downward, possibilities seemingly dancing before her dark brown eyes. A long sigh rippled through Naomi. “I had no idea when I decided to get pregnant through in vitro fertilization how upside down my family was about to be with the merger, my brother’s wedding, my dad’s engagement.”

      “Congratulations on the baby.”

      “I’m pregnant with two babies actually. I should have considered the possibility.” A small silence echoed after those words. In a less aggressive, less confident voice, Naomi added, “I’m a twin.”

      Pain twisted in the woman’s beautiful face, pulling at Isabeau’s heart.

      Isabeau touched the pregnant woman’s arm, offering a small—hopefully welcome—sign of comfort. “Your sister who...?”

      “Yes, my sister who died in the plane crash along with our mother.”

      “I’m so sorry.”

      “I wish I could say it gets easier to handle with time, but it only gets easier to hide the pain. I can’t help but think of them today.”

      Isabeau nodded in agreement. “Of course, that’s only natural.”

      “You’re a very good listener. I never expected to talk about this tonight.”

      “I’m glad I could help.”

      “I should get back to my fiancé. He’ll be chomping at the bit for me to sit down, put my feet up, eat something from every food group.”

      “That’s sweet that he’s so attentive.” Jitters pelted her, along with memories of her college boyfriend. His attentiveness had turned into something ugly—controlling obsession. She didn’t see that in Royce, but she understood too well the sensation of feeling smothered.

      Naomi rolled her eyes. “A little too attentive. But I do love him.” She pushed herself up from the chair. “I enjoyed chatting. Let’s do this again.”

      Isabeau couldn’t miss the way Naomi’s face lit up when she spotted her fiancé. The way he returned her smile. There was so much love in the air here. Did these families understand how lucky they were?

      Although she wasn’t sure she could trust all this happiness if it landed on her doorstep with a bow.

      * * *

      Striding past a harpist playing on the lawn at the reception, Trystan scanned the wedding guests in search of Isabeau. Had she gone inside to the sunroom or great room? Even for a gathering of just family and friends went beyond what most would call an intimate affair.

      His plan to bring Isabeau as his date had been the perfect distraction from the way his family was meshing with the Steeles. His sister was marrying a Steele now. His mother would be marrying the Steele patriarch in a month.

      The fact that his sister’s wedding was at the Steele family compound rather than the Mikkelson home made him edgy and, yeah, angry too. As if the Steeles were working to erase all traces of the Mikkelsons.

      All the more reason for him to make a success of this month as the face of their merged company.

      That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy his time with Isabeau. No question, sparks were flying.

      He had a sense that up until now, particularly in his interactions with women, he’d been sleepwalking, stumbling through the motions. But Isabeau jolted him, electrified his core.

      Surprising him each time he saw her—like now.

      He strode faster up the stairs to the deck leading to an enclosed sunroom. And damn, did she look hot today, sunlight catching the flames of red in her hair as she sat by herself in the sunroom, her legs delicately crossed. Manicured fingers gripped a now empty plate, traces of crumbs decorating the china.

      A vision.

      That’s what she was. A vision he very much wanted to touch, hold and more, so much more. With the signature bravado that enabled him to approach even the flightiest and most aggressive horses, he drew in a breath and walked toward her with the Mikkelson swagger that had turned the onetime small business into an oil empire.

      She sipped a glass of champagne, her bright eyes focusing on him as he drew closer.

      “Come with me.” Extending a hand, he noticed as her lips parted, brows raising in subdued—but visible—interest.

      “Okay. You’re the boss.” She stared awkwardly at her plate, seeming unsure what to do with it.

      Taking it from her, he set it down on a nearby table. She set her now empty champagne flute down too, rising to take his outstretched hand. “Where are we going?”

      “Dancing,” he said simply as they moved to the center of the great room. The small jazz band was tucked in the corner amidst the woodland themed decorations and a small space was cleared for dancing. So far the tunes had all been of the slower variety, and he hoped they stayed that way, eager for the feel of Isabeau against him.

      “Dancing?” She laughed lightly, but still kept her soft hand tucked in his. “Now you’ve surprised me.”

      The band segued into a Sinatra classic and Trystan didn’t miss a beat. He pulled her into his arms. He slipped his hand to her waist, letting it rest in the curve of her slender body. She seemed to lean into him, ever so slightly. Enough to send his blood pumping through his veins.

      “I do know how. Mother insisted on lessons for all of us, everything from the basic ballroom styles to a session on square dancing.”

      “Good for Jeannie. Did you protest?” Her steps synched with his from the first move.

      “Hell no, I was worried my family would get rid of me—” He stopped short. He didn’t want to bust the mood here with talk about his insecurities during the early days when he’d been adopted. “Bad joke. I tend to blurt out what I’m thinking.”

      “Honesty is an admirable trait. It’s just...” She bit her bottom lip.

      A low laugh burst free. “Not always the most tactful for the business world.”

      A major part of why he was better cut out for his role managing the family ranch.

      “That makes tact sound dishonest somehow.”

      Wanting to lighten the mood and chase away the shadows in her eyes, he twirled her away, the silky yellow dress fanning around her lithe legs. Radiant and sexy. She spun back to him, her hands finding his.

      “I only meant that I get that there are nuances and things that are better left unsaid. I’m just not a nuance kind СКАЧАТЬ