talk later.”
Jessica frowned at him. “What I mean is, why didn’t we know? How could he not tell us?”
Woodard adjusted his glasses. “It was only recently that your father himself found out. As of this time, I’m afraid our information on the child is extremely limited. We do know that she’s nine years old, and we believe she’s living in the South somewhere, but that’s about it. Your father hired a private investigator to find her, but unfortunately J.T. passed away before the man could locate the mother or the child. However—” the lawyer looked at Jake “—your father has requested in his will that Jake continue the search.”
Ignoring Myrna’s incredulous look, Jake stared straight ahead. An affair. His father had had an affair.
And I have a new kid sister.
“This is ridiculous.” Myrna’s voice was tight with anger. “Even if there is a child—and I certainly don’t believe there is—what difference does it make now? J.T. is gone. There’s absolutely no reason to look for her.”
Jessica put her hand on Jake’s arm. “Of course we’ll look for her. Won’t we, Jake?”
Jake looked down at his sister. “She’s a Stone, isn’t she?”
Jessica hugged him, knocking off his Stetson.
“Never a dull moment,” Jared said, shaking his head and smiling.
“You sure as hell can say that again,” Jake replied, returning his sister’s hug. “Welcome home, little brother.”
One
The town house was expensive. White wrought iron, beveled windows, shiny brass mailboxes. The taxi slowed, then pulled to a stop in front of a small brick security building nearly engulfed by a creeping vine with pink flowers. The guard behind the polished glass window glanced over his newspaper at the taxi and frowned slightly.
The driver turned to his passenger. “You want me to wait?”
That was a good question, Jake thought. He might be here thirty minutes or thirty seconds. Hell, the woman might not even open the door, in spite of the fact she knew he was coming. It had taken five months after J.T.’s death to track her down, and according to the private investigator, she’d been less than welcoming. Getting her to agree to this meeting had been about as easy as branding a loose steer.
“So how ‘bout it?” The cabbie grew impatient. “You want me to wait or not?”
Jake grabbed the small duffel bag on the floor beside him and shook his head. “I’ll call.”
The guard watched carefully now as Jake paid the fare. It wasn’t as if Jake didn’t understand the man’s concern. This section of Atlanta, Georgia, was much more accustomed to CEOs in tailored suits than a six-foot-four cowboy in a black Stetson and blue jeans.
Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, Jake approached the wary guard. “Afternoon.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I’m looking for number 312, Miss Roberts’s place.”
The man lifted his bushy gray eyebrows and set his paper aside. “And you are?” he asked, pulling out a clipboard.
“Jake Stone.”
The guard scanned his daily list of permitted admittances. “Yes, Mr. Stone. Miss Roberts is expecting you. Second sidewalk, turn left. She’s the third place in.”
He pushed a buzzer and a huge gate opened. Jake stepped inside, then turned to look back when the gate clanked shut behind him. Damn. He felt as if he’d just stepped into prison. What the hell kind of place was this that needed high gates and security guards? No place he’d want his kids to grow up. But then, he thought with a frown, since he had no kids and remarriage was definitely not in his plans, where his children were or weren’t raised was hardly something to consider.
Shaking his head, Jake followed the guard’s directions. Magnolia trees shaded the walkway and bright pink flowers filled the beds. Everywhere he looked was green. A lush deep green that one rarely saw in west Texas. Jake had forgotten there were so many shades of green.
Carolyn, his ex-wife, would have loved this place. The thought made Jake instantly hate it. He wanted out of here, and the sooner, the better.
But he was here for Jessie, Jake reminded himself. He knew that his sister would skin him alive if he didn’t come back with some kind of good news. Even Jared had seemed anxious, Jake recalled, remembering the smile in his younger brother’s eyes when they’d said goodbye at the airport. It had been a long time since Jared had smiled or seemed enthusiastic about anything, and there was nothing Jake wouldn’t do to keep that smile there.
Number 312. Jake stood in front of the door and stared at the shiny brass numbers. A knot began to form in his gut, and though he never would have admitted it, not even to Jessie, a sudden rush of excitement swept through him. Emma Roberts Stone. J.T.’s child.
His sister.
* * *
“Is he really my brother?” Emma asked for at least the third time in the past half hour. “Is he really?”
Savannah pulled a brush through the child’s shining black hair and felt the same twitch in her stomach she’d felt every time her niece asked that question. “We don’t know that for sure, Pecan. That’s why he’s coming over, so we can talk about it.”
“It’s almost time,” Emma said excitedly, twisting her head to glance at the clock. The neat ponytail Savannah had just pulled together disintegrated.
Frowning, Savannah straightened Emma’s head and tried again. “Sweetheart, if you don’t stop fidgeting, we’ll never get your hair done.”
The truth, Savannah realized, was that it was her own shaky hands causing the ponytail’s demise. He’d be here any minute. Any second.
And she was about to tell the biggest lie of her life.
Forget the ponytail. It didn’t matter. But what happened in the next few minutes did matter. More than life itself. Savannah set the brush on the armchair and turned her niece around to face her. Kneeling in front of the child so their eyes met, Savannah touched Emma gently on her cheek.
“Emma, you know I love you more than anything in this world, right?”
Emma nodded, her blue eyes narrowed at the serious tone in her aunt’s voice.
“And you know that before your mommy went away she asked me to watch over you and take care of you, too?”
She nodded again.
“That’s why you need to do as I asked. You’ve got to stay in your room and let me talk to this man first. I need to make sure that he is your brother.”
Emma drew her brows together. “How will you know?”
Savannah brushed the bangs from the child’s face. “You let me worry about that, Pecan.”
“Is he going to want
