“You were awfully pushy and presumptuous.”
Sensing victory, Jeb grinned. “I’m a Delacourt. What can I say? We’re a pushy bunch.”
“It’s not something to be proud of.”
“Pushy has its rewards,” he pointed out. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
“On a business trip,” Brianna reminded him.
“I’ll stay out of your way when you’re working. I promise.”
Her gaze narrowed. “I assume you have your own room.”
“I’m pushy, darlin’, not crude. Of course I do.” His gaze settled on her face. “Unless you’d like me to cancel it.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she retorted with the first real smile she’d given him since they’d arrived at the Houston airport. “Then again, you have four days to change my mind.”
“It will be my pleasure,” Jeb assured her.
The Pint-Sized Secret
Sherryl Woods
SHERRYL WOODS
Whether she’s living in California, Florida, or Virginia, Sherryl Woods always makes her home by the sea. A walk on the beach, the sound of waves, the smell of the salt air, all provide inspiration for this writer of more than sixty romance and mystery novels. Sherryl hopes you’re enjoying these latest entries in the AND BABY MAKES THREE series for Silhouette Special Edition. You can write to Sherryl or—from April through December—stop by and meet her at her bookstore, Potomac Sunrise, 308 Washington Avenue, Colonial Beach, VA 22443.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
“Blast it, Dad, you have to do something about this. If you don’t stop it now, one of these days you’ll wake up and the whole company will have been eaten up by your competitors.” Jeb barely resisted the desire to slam his fist into the wall in frustration.
Bryce Delacourt thought he controlled the universe, and maybe he did. At least he’d always had a pretty tight grip on Delacourt Oil and on his family. One by one, though, his children were easing away. Trish—the youngest—had married a ranch hand across the state in Los Piños, and only a few months later Dylan had fallen for a pediatrician in the same city while conducting a search for her missing son.
More than miles separated them, though. As huge as Texas was, it was nothing compared to the gulf filled with hurt feelings and unyielding pride.
That left thirty-three-year-old Jeb and two younger brothers still in the family business, still trying to juggle their own independence and their father’s need to control everything and everyone around him.
Unlike his big brother, Jeb’s only form of rebellion was to try to carve out a niche for himself that would allow him to do the sort of undercover investigative work he loved, but within the world of Delacourt Oil. Sometimes—like now—he regretted not bolting as Dylan had. His brother would have welcomed him as a partner.
Over the past couple of months, though, there had been evidence of trouble inside the company. Jeb thought he’d finally found the perfect opportunity to prove to his father just how important it could be to have an insider staying on top of corporate leaks.
So far, however, his father hadn’t seen it his way. If anything, Bryce Delacourt was more determined than ever to keep all of his remaining sons bound to their desks—“paying their dues,” as he put it. He was also blind as a bat when it came to the possibility that someone was stealing the company’s oil exploration test results and feeding them to rival oil corporations.
Twice in recent months Delacourt Oil had lost potential new sites for drilling just as bids for the land were being formulated. To Jeb, that all but shouted that an insider was betraying them. To his father, it appeared to be no more than a minor annoyance.
“You don’t understand business, son. This sort of thing happens from time to time.”
“Twice? Back-to-back?” Jeb questioned.
“Sometimes. We’ll get the next one,” Bryce insisted with surprising equanimity for a man who had a well-earned reputation for ruthlessness. “I’m convinced this is nothing more than coincidence.”
“I wish I shared your optimism. Maybe I’d buy your theory—if the timing hadn’t coincided with the arrival of your new geologist,” Jeb said, doing exactly what he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t do—tipping his hand and making an accusation that he had no evidence to prove.
Brianna O’Ryan’s possible involvement had been nagging at him for weeks now, but he’d managed to keep silent. He’d wanted his father’s permission before he went digging any further for the truth. Obviously, judging from his father’s shocked expression, he should have handled this in reverse. He should have found the proof first.
“Brianna? You think she’s selling us out? Don’t be ridiculous. She’s as loyal as they come,” his father declared with passionate conviction. “She’s grateful to have the job here. Why, she hasn’t even turned thirty. She knows no other oil company would have moved her into a job with so much responsibility. Besides…” His voice trailed off.
Jeb caught something in his father’s expression. “Besides…what?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, and suddenly developed an uncharacteristic fascination with straightening things on his desk. His pens had never been aligned so neatly.
“Dad, what are you not telling me?”
“Nothing,” Bryce insisted, his expression setting stubbornly.
“Let me check into her background at least,” Jeb pleaded.
“Absolutely
