Chapter 8

Los Angeles

Good morning, Mr. Devereau.” Jesse Devereau looked up from the newspaper he was reading when he stepped off the elevator. “Good morning, Kitty, and how are you this morning?”

“I’m doing fine, sir. I’ve placed your mail on your desk and Edward Shingles called twice already.”

Jesse nodded, thinking what else was new? Edward Shingles had been trying to run him down all week, and he had already told the man that further discussion about the matter would be pointless. He was not interested in buying the man’s company, especially after the discovery that the older man had doctored his accounting books to make it appear that Shingles Industries was in better shape financially than it really was.

“If Mr. Shingles calls back, put him through to me right away. Evidently he needs to hear the words I’m not interested another way.”

Kitty Perkins tried hiding her smile but failed to do so. She watched as her boss entered his office and closed the door behind him. She had come to work for Jesse Devereau when he’d first started his business over eight years ago and thought he was a wonderful boss.

In a little over four years, the name Jesse Devereau spiked fear in a vast number of corporations on the west coast. Hailed as something of a corporate marauder, he had built his empire by doing whatever it took to get in on the action, whether by forcing a takeover of some successful firm that caught his eye, or going so far as to do whatever he had to do to get a seat on the board of some particular firm. He did it all and without shame, making him one of the most wealthiest African–American men on the west coast.

A few years ago, there were those who’d thought he was a gigolo when he had become the constant companion of wealthy California socialite Susan Brady, a woman twenty years his senior. They had accused him of trying to take advantage of Brady for her money since it was a known fact she had terminal cancer. But those same individuals had been shocked right out of their socks when, right before her death, Susan Brady announced publicly that Jesse Devereau was the illegitimate son she had given up for adoption. It seemed that while in college at Harvard some thirty years ago, a young Susan had fallen in love with an African-American law student and their secret affair had resulted in pregnancy. Therefore, no one was surprised at the reading of Susan Brady’s will when it was announced that she had left all her money and worldly possessions to her son.

Mrs. Perkins sighed. Those who didn’t really know Mr. Devereau considered him ruthless, unbending, and hard. But she saw beyond all his roughness. What she saw was a man who had achieved all of his accomplishments the hard way, and deep down beneath that tough exterior he still wanted to belong and be accepted, not as the illegitimate son of Susan Brady, but as a man who had become highly successful in his own right. But one thing she’d discovered about Jesse Devereau was that he was also a man who didn’t like to be crossed. He selected his friends and business associates carefully and anyone who betrayed him had hell to pay.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted Kitty’s thoughts and she quickly went about doing the work her boss was paying her a very good salary to do.

Jesse tossed all his other mail aside while studying one envelope in particular. It was postmarked from Orlando, Florida. He would never forget the last time he’d been in Orlando almost three years ago, and the woman he’d met there. Occasionally, he would allow his mind to drift back to a Thanksgiving he would never forget. Pushing aside the memories, he quickly opened the letter and read the document that was contained inside.

I thought you would like to know that two years ago, Carla

Osborne gave birth to your child.

An Interested Party

A frown marred Jesse’s forehead as he reread the letter. A few minutes later, he leaned over and punched the intercom button on his telephone.

“Yes, Mr. Devereau?”

“Kitty, please contact Mike and tell him I need to see him immediately.”

Mike Kelly watched as Jesse paced back and forth within the confines of his office. The two of them had been friends since their foster home days and Mike could claim to be the one person who knew the real Jesse Devereau.

“Stop wearing out the carpet, Jess, because it won’t change a thing. As you can see from the report I gave you, you’re listed as the father on Carla Osborne’s child’s birth certificate.”

Jesse stopped his pacing and met Mike’s gaze. “If I’m the child’s father then why wasn’t I told? I had every right to know about it.”

Mike shook his head. “Look, you did say it was a one-night stand, so maybe she thought she was doing you a favor by not telling you. And there’s the possibility that you would not have believed her if she had.” Jesse inhaled deeply. He would have believed her. The one thing he would never forget about that night was that Carla Osborne had been a virgin.

“And,” Mike continued, “although your name is on the child’s birth certificate, there’s still a question as to whether the child is yours since you said that you used protection.”

Jesse leaned against his desk. “Yes, but I’m not stupid enough to think a condom is a hundred percent safe,” he said. Especially when he remembered the number of times they had made love that night. Somewhere in the process he could have gotten careless. He picked up the report Mike had delivered over an hour ago. Mike was not only his best friend but also his right-hand man who owned a private investigating firm in L.A.—one of the best. His clients usually included people in the entertainment industry, politicians, and other well-known individuals. As well as being someone he trusted implicitly, Mike was also someone he could always count on to bring him the facts and nothing but the facts.

“And the child’s birth certificate was not part of the public records?”

“No, which I found unusual. Ms. Osborne had a special filing done by her attorney to keep the information concealed, pretty much the same way some adoptions are done.”

“I want to know if the child is really mine, Mike.”

Mike nodded. “If he is, then what?”

The answer to that question came easy. “If he’s mine I want to be a part of his life.”

Mike wasn’t surprised that Jesse would feel that way, since he knew just how much family meant to Jesse. He had been given up for adoption at birth but had found himself bounced from foster home to foster home instead. “At least there’s one thing you do know about Carla Osborne.”

Jesse lifted a dark brow. “And what’s that?”

“She’s not a money grabber. If her son is really yours, she hadn’t planned to use him to get to your bank account. I know a number of women who would have quickly stepped up and claimed you’re their baby’s daddy if they thought doing so would get them hefty child support payments each month. Evidently Ms. Osborne didn’t think that way.”

Jesse leaned against the desk, frowning. “Regardless, that doesn’t erase the fact she didn’t tell me about a child that I would have given anything to know I had. Before we parted ways, I did leave my business card with her so she knew how to contact me if she needed to.”

Mike chuckled. “A business card? Oh, how romantic, Jess.” He knew at the moment Jesse was too upset to see reason, but Mike had a few questions of his own, like who had sent the letter to Jess? Evidently Carla Osborne had acquired an enemy who’d known that upon receiving the letter Jesse would do one of two things: something or nothing, and they had counted on him doing something. Most men would have tossed such a letter in the trash and counted their blessings that they hadn’t known about the child, but not Jesse Devereau.

Although some considered him ruthless and hard, there were those who didn’t know the other side of him. It was the side that strongly believed in the principle that a man shouldered the responsibility of taking care of any child he brought into the world and should be an integral part of his child’s life—from start to finish. Susan Brady’s emergence into Jesse’s life had come too late, although the woman had tried to make up in four months what she’d failed to do in thirty-six years.

“So what’s your plan?” Mike asked, meeting Jesse’s gaze.

Jesse sank slowly into the chair behind his desk. “I plan to leave for Florida immediately.”