Page 91 of Tell Me Again
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When she woke again, the first blush of predawn light lit the room. She felt Trevor shift and then roll away from her, a rush of cool air hitting her back as he left the bed.
She closed her eyes again, her body still languid and heavy from a night spent in his arms. That changed in an instant when she heard him let out a string of curses from somewhere in the house. Blinking to shake off sleep, she grabbed a robe from the back of the door and headed toward the kitchen.
Trevor stood at the edge of the counter with his back to her, wearing only his boxers, cell phone pressed to his ear. It sounded like he was talking to Grace, his voice low and soothing, and an instinctive panic gripped her. She grabbed her purse from a kitchen chair and dug for her phone, gasping as the screen lit.
She’d missed at least a dozen calls, three from her agent and two from Grace. The rest of the numbers weren’t familiar to her, although she recognized the California area code. The phone vibrated with a text message, and she realized she also had a whole string of unread texts that had come through in the past hour.
The most recent was from her agent and her stomach clenched as she read the three words.
Is she yours?
The image below the message was one of the photos she’d taken of Grace, the girl looking far older than her thirteen years, her resemblance to Sam unmistakable. She scrolled back through the messages and realized that several of the photos were actually stills taken from a clip from one of the popular gossip outlets, the online reporter standing in front of a screen projecting the photos of Grace side by side with images of a much younger Sam.
No.
Heart racing, she punched in her agent’s number at the same time she glanced up, Trevor’s heated gaze crashing into hers. She shook her head and mouthed, “I’m sorry,” her fingers trembling and palms starting to sweat.
There had to be an explanation for what was happening right now. And a solution. A solution was key.
“You have a daughter?” Peter’s normal baritone hit the falsetto range as he asked the question. “How did you keep her a secret for so long? I don’t remember you getting fat.” He paused and she could hear him take a long drag on a cigarette. In the almost fifteen years she’d known him, Peter Colefield had quit smoking repeatedly, only to start again during times of stress. This was definitely a time of stress. “I would have remembered you getting fat.”
“Focus, Peter.” Her voice was calm, the exact opposite of the riot happening inside her. “Who has those photos and how do we make sure they’re kept out of the media?”
He barked out a dry laugh. “Fat chance on keeping them out of the tabloids. Samantha Carlton having a secret baby is big news.”
“She’s not my daughter,” she said, bitterness and regret once again flowing through her veins. “We have to squash those photos. Who has them?”
“How can she not be your daughter? She looks just like...” He let out a disbelieving groan.
“She’s my niece,” Sam said softly.
“Baby Jane’s daughter?”
Sam closed her eyes and bit down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Ever since her falling out with Bryce, Peter had referred to her twin as Baby Jane, a reference to the old Bette Davis movie with the sister driven crazy by jealousy.
“Bryce had a baby and didn’t tell me,” she whispered. “I found out just over a month ago.”
“Probably something you should have warned me of,” he said, the censure obvious in his voice. “I could have done some preemptive damage control.”
“She’s my niece,” Sam ground out. “She doesn’t need damage control.”
She heard a curse and whirled around to find Trevor standing directly behind her. He’d gotten dressed while she was on the phone. His dark T-shirt stretched over the hard planes of his rigid muscles and was the perfect complement to his grim features. “I need to call you back, Peter. Figure out how to make this go away.”
Trevor cracked his knuckles. She ended the call and met his blue gaze, so angry and hot it was like looking directly into the heart of a flame.
“Who gave the tabloids the photos?” she asked.
“Damage control?” he asked instead of answering, his tone disgusted. “I’ll tell you how to make this go away. I’m making suremydaughter stays the hell away from you.”
Sam’s head snapped back as if he’d slapped her. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do this.”
“You took the photos.” He jerked his head toward her staircase. “You got her all made up and dressed in those fancy-ass clothes so she didn’t even look like herself. You made her into you.”
She opened her mouth but all the words she wanted to speak were silenced by Trevor’s temper.
“I told you I didn’t want her to grow up so fast. Now she’s out there looking like a—”
