Her Little Secret, His Hidden Heir(21)
“I told you, Marc, I won’t take your money.”
Shoulders going back, his spine straightened almost imperceptibly, and his jaw went square and tight. A clear indication he was about to get stubborn and lay down the Law According to Marc Keller.
Mouth a thin, flat line, he said, “And I told you, Vanessa, that I’m not going anywhere. Not for a while, anyway.”
A beat passed while the tension seemed to leak from his stiff form and jump across the bed into her. The last thing she needed was a reminder of Marc’s refusal to leave town now that he knew about Danny, and all the fears and concerns his presence brought to the surface.
“So as long as I’m sticking around,” he continued, “we might as well use the time wisely. Why not get started on the expansion and put you one step closer to your goal?”
Oh, he was smooth and made so much sense. She’d always hated that, because it put him entirely too close to being right.
Of course, he usually was right, at least where business issues were concerned, which was even more annoying. Especially since he knew it and often came across as just this side of smug in that awareness.
“I don’t want your help, Marc.”
Rising from the bed, she linked her arms around her middle and paced across the room. When she hit the closed door, she turned and paced back, keeping her gaze locked on the worn and faded carpeting beneath her feet.
“I don’t want to be tied to you, to owe you for anything.”
“Well, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”
She stopped, lifted her head to meet his eye. One dark brow was raised, his lips curled in a wry half smile.
“We have a child together. I’d say that ties us together more strongly than any business plan or partnership ever could.”
She blinked. Dammit. There it was again. He was right and being smug about it.
For better or worse, they were tied to each other now until the end of time through their son. Birthdays, school events, extracurricular activities, chicken pox, measles, puberty, girlfriends, his first tattoo or piercing…
She shuddered. Oh, God, please no piercings or tattoos. That might actually be the one parental matter she’d happily delegate to Marc for a good old-fashioned father-to-son heart-to-heart.
But given how ugly and heartbreaking—at least on her part—their separation had been, it was no wonder she wasn’t looking forward to sharing any of that with him. And no wonder she’d tried to keep Danny a secret to begin with. It might not have been the right thing to do, but it sure made life a lot less complicated.
“That’s different,” she said quietly.
He inclined his head, though whether in agreement or simply acquiescence, she wasn’t sure.
“However you feel about that,” he said slowly, “it doesn’t change the facts. I’m going to be in Summerville, getting to know my son and make up for lost time, for several weeks, at least. You might as well take advantage of that—and of my willingness to invest money into your bakery.”
Pushing up from the bed, he came to stand in front of her, cupping his hands over her shoulders. His slightly callused palms felt rough against her bare skin, his warmth seeping into her pores.
“Think about it, Nessa,” he murmured barely above a whisper. His eyes, as green and lush as summer moss, bored into hers. “Use your head here instead of sticking to stubborn pride. The smart and savvy businesswoman in you knows I’m right, knows this is an opportunity you’d be crazy to pass up. Even if it is coming from your despicable ex-husband.”
He said the last with a quick wink and a self-deprecating quirk of his full, sexy lips.
It was that wink and the fact that he knew how badly she didn’t want him around but apparently wasn’t holding it against her that made her stop and think, just as he’d suggested.
Think through his offer logically and reasonably, and with the level-headed, straightforward intelligence that had convinced her to take the risky financial plunge of opening The Sugar Shack with Aunt Helen in the first place. Weigh her options. Weigh her desire to expand the bakery and accept a much-needed infusion of cash and support against her desire to keep Danny to herself, keep miles upon miles of distance between her and Marc—both figuratively and literally—and maintain complete control over her business rather than sharing it with a third party who may or may not be as genuinely committed to its growth and success as she and her aunt were. Or worse yet, had the power to crush her and her business at the slightest provocation.
And there would be provocation, wouldn’t there? There already was, in that she’d kept first her pregnancy and then Danny’s existence from him to begin with.
For all she knew, he could be hiding his true feelings from her, being kind and considerate and generous in an effort to lull her into a false sense of security. Then the minute she agreed to take his money, to let him partner with her in the bakery and to be a part of Danny’s life, he would spring the trap, taking everything from her.
Her business, her security, her son.
Did she really believe that, though? Despite the bitterness involved on both sides of their divorce, he had never been deliberately cruel. He hadn’t tried to hurt her, hadn’t used his powerful influence or family fortune to leave her destitute.
Thanks to the prenuptial agreement his family—or more to the point, his mother—had insisted on before their wedding, Vanessa had left the marriage with not much more than she’d walked into it with, but she was well aware that it could have been worse.