Fortune's Secret Child. Shawna DelacorteЧитать онлайн книгу.
opening underneath the stairs. He paused for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the dim illumination filtering in through the windows from the outside street light.
A shadowy figure crossed the foyer toward the front door. Shane moved silently through the darkness in much the same way as a cat stalks its prey, or as one of his Native American ancestors would have stealthily picked his way through a rocky canyon. He sprang from behind, knocking the intruder to the ground. He easily pinned the struggling body against the terra-cotta floor in the entry-way. Then his hand grazed a decidedly female breast and he heard a woman gasp.
Shane yanked his hand away. He focused on the face of the intruder. Her identity exploded in his consciousness, leaving him frozen in stunned silence. Waves of conflicting emotions swept through him. He had not seen her in six years, but there was no mistaking who she was even in the darkened surroundings. No one had eyes like hers, eyes that seemed to glow an iridescent blue. He couldn’t find enough breath even to speak. He finally forced out one word, managing only a hushed whisper. “Cynthia.”
He hovered directly above her, their mouths almost in contact. Sexual electricity leapt between them. It was the same sensual excitement that had once been part of their life together. It wrenched all the old emotions from the past—both good ones and bad—and deposited them in the here and now. What weird twist of fate had brought her to his house in the middle of the night?
She stopped struggling, but her muscles remained tensed. Every heated desire he had ever felt for Cynthia McCree came rushing back full force. Memories of long ago—the smell of her perfume, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her naked body pressed along the length of his, the many passion-filled nights of lovemaking—came from the same hidden place that also held old feelings of confusion and anger.
Cynthia wasn’t sure if any of this was real or only a cruel trick of her mind prompted by her return to Pueblo. Shane Fortune...was it possible that she was still in bed fast asleep and this was only a bad dream? She felt his heartbeat as his body pressed against hers—at least, she thought it was his heartbeat. It could just as easily have been her own. Their lips were so close she could almost feel the contact. All the old emotions flooded over her—times of unbridled passion and times of deep sorrow. He had been the love of her life. He was also the man who had broken her heart and hurt her more than she thought possible.
None of this made sense. She shook off the past and renewed her struggle as she tried to collect her wits. She shoved hard against his chest with both hands in an effort to push him away. She had to pull herself together and do it quickly. There was a lot more at stake here than being physically thrown together with the last man on earth she had expected to be with or even wanted to be with.
She noticed a moment of hesitation on his part when he resisted her efforts to dislodge him. It almost seemed as if he intended to close the few inches of space separating their mouths. A sharp jolt of fear surged through her body—not fear of what Shane might do, but rather fear that she would be a willing accomplice. Then as suddenly as it had all begun, he relinquished his hold on her and stood up. A very shaken Cynthia scrambled to her feet, then leaned against the staircase banister to steady her wobbly legs. She gasped for breath as anxiety ran rampant through her body. She kept a wary eye on him while he reached for a light switch.
Shane’s logical and analytical mind tried to dismiss the emotions and put things into some type of order. He couldn’t make any sense of what had happened. He had not been this confused since the day he’d told Cynthia they had no future together and their affair was over. Those years had been very intense for him, filled with inner turmoil and conflicts. He had cut her out of his life with surgical efficiency, and there had been no further contact between them—until now. He didn’t like the nervous uncertainty that jittered inside him. He clicked on a light, then took a calming breath before turning to face her.
He tried to speak, but his throat constricted, trapping his words inside. The disarray of her long blond hair exuded an earthy sexuality that caught him totally off guard. The barefoot woman in a knee-length robe standing in front of him was even more beautiful than the memory he’d been carrying around for six years. A wave of desire surged through his body, in direct contrast to his practiced outer show of calm and control.
He tried to beat down this unaccustomed lack of composure and take charge of the situation the same way he did with everything that came his way. It was a skill he’d perfected over a lifetime, making sure no one could read his thoughts or feelings. Before he could manage it, though, Cynthia usurped any thought he had of being in control of the circumstances.
She made no effort to curb the edge of displeasure surrounding her words. “Just what do you think you’re doing here?”
A sudden twinge of discomfort reinforced her awareness of the way she was dressed. Cynthia tightened the sash of her robe and pulled the collar close around her neck. She was vaguely aware of the scrape on her forearm, the result of contact with the rough tile floor. She put as much authority into her voice as she could dredge up from her rapidly dwindling reserve of confidence. “I made sure the doors were locked before going to bed. How did you get in here?”
As a corporate attorney, she had learned to read people. She immediately recognized his body language—leaning forward in an attempt to psychologically throw her off balance, the unsettling way his dark piercing eyes seemed to see inside her, his attempt to control the situation and control her. It had worked back when her worldly experience was limited to Pueblo, Arizona, but it wasn’t going to work anymore. She had long since become toughened by the realities of life. She pulled her determination together, held her ground and refused to back down before his aggressive manner.
“You’re asking how I got in?” Had he heard her correctly? Was she really challenging his right to be in his own house? None of this made any sense to him. He maintained his outer facade of total authority as he scrambled to put things into some kind of perspective. “I think a better question is, What are you doing in my house?”
Her eyes widened in shock. She stumbled backward a couple of steps. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to speak, giving her voice a husky sound. “Your house? This is your house?” The tightness in her jaw relaxed a little. Disbelief covered her features where determination had been just a moment earlier. “How can that possibly be?”
The sharpness in her words melted away as it turned into bewilderment. She seemed to be staring into space rather than focusing on anything. She sounded almost as if she was trying to work out a problem in her mind rather than talking to him. “Kate insisted that I stay here until I get everything settled and find a job. With my mother having died when I was a child, I’m the one responsible for handling my father’s estate. Kate led me to believe that she owned this house, that it was leased to someone who was going to be out of state for a while.”
She struggled to regain her determination, finally managing to exercise some authority over what was happening, even though the situation was far from clear. She stared at him, her manner no longer questioning or unsure. “She certainly didn’t tell me this house belonged to you.”
His brow knitted in a frown. He shook his head, hoping the puzzle pieces would settle into their proper places. “Kate Fortune said you could stay in my house? Your father’s estate? What’s going on here?” Shane took a calming breath. On more than one occasion over the past six years he had envisioned a reunion with Cynthia and pondered what might have been had he not cut her out of his life. The thoughts always wound up making him feel sad, so he had refused to dwell on them. Only now here she suddenly was, the flesh-and-blood woman, more beautiful than ever—not a figment of his imagination—and he didn’t know how to handle it.
He motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen. “I must be missing something. It’s been a couple of weeks since I talked to Kate. I told her I would be attending a medical conference up in Phoenix. I wasn’t scheduled to be home until tomorrow but decided to drive back tonight, instead.”
Cynthia glanced nervously toward the top of the stairs. She didn’t want their voices to wake Bobby. Things were awkward enough without her son making an unexpected appearance. She returned her attention to Shane, thankful they were moving away from the