Chapter 10

CHAPTERTEN

Tanner drovethe ball off the tee with a resounding whack.

“He was pretending to be me,” he told Sonny through gritted teeth.

“That was a hell of a shot. So whoever you’re mad at, maybe stay that way until the end of the season.”

“I’m likely to be mad at my brother for the rest of my life,” Tanner said as he handed Sonny his driver. “The jerk was pretending to be me when he was with Whitney’s mother. That’s the only possible explanation for my name being on the birth certificate. All this time, this Donella person thought I was Whitney’s father.”

Sonny whistled through his teeth. “Holy shit.”

Tanner ripped off his golf glove and shoved it into his back pocket. “At least their relationship took place before he and Melinda were married.”

Tristan was a lot of things, but he was devoted to his wife. He always claimed he’d fallen in love with Melinda the moment they met. They were married six months later.

The burning question that kept Tanner up the previous night, though, was whether Tristan knew. Did he know he had a daughter? Tanner liked to think his brother didn’t know. That Tristan would have been a part of Whitney’s life had he been aware she existed.

But then, there were lots of things about his twin brother he thought he knew but didn’t.

“Tristan pretended to be you all the time,” Sonny remarked.

Like that.

“What?” Tanner’s voice carried down the fairway. A golfer from the group in front of them aborted his putt mid-swing. Tanner waved his hand in apology and lowered his voice. “How do you know that?”

“I wasn’t drunk all the time,” Sonny grumbled. “There was always chatter in the clubhouse.”

Tanner’s pulse throbbed painfully at the back of his skull. He pulled an ibuprofen from the pocket of his shorts and swallowed it dry in an effort to ward off a migraine.

Sonny searched for Tanner’s ball in the rough at the side of the fairway. “If it makes a difference, I don’t think he was doing it for money or fame. Or out of spite. I got the sense he was just pretending to be you for shits and giggles.” He pulled back the grass around the ball with his foot. “It was more like he was bored with his life and wanted to walk in someone else’s shoes for a while. And since you and he were practically the same person, it was easy for him to be you. If I had to guess, it was simply an escape for him.”

What the hell would his brother need to escape from? Tristan was the favorite son, working with their dad running a multi-billion-dollar company that would become his legacy. He had a beautiful wife. Multiple homes and a family who loved him.

Unlike Tanner, Tristan didn’t have to justify every one of his life choices to their father. Marcus Gillette thought his “spare” lacked ambition, not to mention the drive to make a success of himself. Ironic, since the man was married to a professional athlete. A woman whose career thrived because of the support of her husband—even though that same husband considered it his wife’s hobby. Her golf game was a unique way for him to meet prospective wealthy clients.

While Tristan had been the over-achiever in school, Tanner did what he had to do to pass. He spent the rest of his time learning the science and the math behind the game of golf. His father’s perception of the sport was men spending time in the sunshine striking a ball all day and carousing in the clubhouse all night. It was beneath the Gillette name to play a game. He didn’t understand that it took the same mental toughness to excel in sports as it did to close a deal in the boardroom.

Part of that was Tanner’s fault. He hadn’t done a damn thing to refute his reputation as the spoiled little rich kid riding on mama’s coattails when he first turned pro. On the contrary, he’d lived up to every bit of that reputation and then some. It wasn’t until he was politely asked to leave the tour at the ripe old age of twenty-five that he realized he needed to do an abrupt about-face.

He headed over to tour in Europe, where he could lick his wounds and grow-up. There, he met a misfit caddy who not only taught him how to sharpen his God-given talent, but who stood beside him as they both went through the painful, but necessary self-improvement process. The transformation wasn’t easy. Yet, both men survived.

Now, Tanner was on the precipice of proving his father wrong. To show him that he was as smart as Tristan. As mentally tough. That he wasn’t wasting his life having a good time. That he was a winner, too.

Once he got rid of the yips, that is.

He forced himself to relax his grip on the club. To regulate his breathing so all that negative energy left his body. The club whooshed by his ear as he drove the ball directly at the pin. A surprised cheer went up from the golfers leaving the green.

Tanner looked back at Sonny. “Did I hole it?”

The caddy shot him a thumbs up. “That’s one way to avoid having to putt. Keep it up.”

Three hours later, Tanner returned home still in a foul mood. The eagle was the high point of his round. His hands continued to shake each time he gripped his putter, while the rest of his game was firing on all cylinders. None of it made sense.

Sonny suggested that Tanner might want to consider Jane’s offer of alternative treatments. Except Tanner knew the only solution to this mess was finding Donella, reuniting her with Whitney. Then, he could get the answers he needed to move on.

The sound of giggling coming from the direction of the great room had him headed that way. He wasn’t prepared for the scene that greeted him. The once pristine room had been transformed into a giant blanket fort. Several of the throws usually adorning the sofas were pinned together using what looked like chip-clips to create a warren of sorts. Beneath one of the blankets, he could just make out string-lights twinkling.

Paige’s muffled voice was followed by another round of belly laughs that could only belong to Whitney. The sound of it stole Tanner’s breath.

His anger bubbled up from the surface again just thinking about how desperate Donella must be to have left her daughter with him. Which made him even more pissed at Tristan. Why hadn’t he provided for them?

Closing his eyes, he ran through another cycle of breathing exercises to calm his pulse and his temper. None of this was Whitney’s fault. The most important thing was keeping her healthy and happy. Fortunately, he had Paige for that. Almeda was good with the child, but he couldn’t picture his pleasingly plump housekeeper crawling into a blanket fort on her bad knees with Whitney.

Tanner was relieved to find Paige still here this afternoon. After the way he’d stormed off last night without giving her any explanation, he was glad to see she hadn’t packed up Whitney and decamped to the Tide Me Over Inn. Not that he would have blamed her. He needed to apologize. Except he had no idea what he’d say to her. It was better off to let her keep believing he was Whitney’s father. He wouldn’t throw Tristan under the bus until he had all the facts.

And maybe not even then.

Besides, it was safer having Paige think the worst of him. There was already too strong of a pull between them. As much as he wanted to act on it, he didn’t need another complication in his life. A brief fling with his temporary nanny would be something old Tanner might have done, but not new Tanner.

It took everything he had to remind the rest of his body of that.

If he was going to finally prove to his father that he was worthy, he needed to remain laser-focused. The immediate goal was to resolve Whitney’s situation, so that he could get rid of the yips. Only then could he get back on tour and finish what he started this season.

Paige murmured something else causing Whitney to giggle again. Tanner bent down and peeked beneath one of the blankets. “Is there a password for this fort or can anyone come in?”

He heard Paige’s sharp intake of breath from deep within the warren. “Can’t you read? There’s a big sign that explicitly says no boys allowed.”

Sure enough, there was a piece of paper bearing those exact words taped to one of the blankets. Tanner chuckled to himself. Leave it to Paige. He should walk away and let her keep doing her job. From the sound of it, Whitney was having fun.

The joy he heard in the little girl’s laugh was like a drug, though. He didn’t get to see Tristan’s sons often. But right now, he had a little piece of his brother that was all his. And she was slowly coming out of her shell. More than anything, he wanted Whitney to feel loved rather than abandoned.

He lifted up one of the blankets. Paige shot him a death glare. Whitney jerked up before backpedaling beneath the blanket until she was hidden within the depths of the fort. It was the look of dread on her face that had him dropping the blanket.

She still didn’t want anything to do with him.

Maybe it’s for the best.

Once he found Whitney’s mother, Tanner’s role in her life would likely be limited to that of her financial guardian. Just as he had no business seeking out a fling with Paige, he had no business trying to forge a relationship with Whitney.

The thought twisted painfully in his chest. He turned on his heel and headed for the study. Paige whispered something to the child before crawling out from beneath the blanket.

“Wait,” she called.

He looked back over his shoulder at her. She swiped at the hair falling into her face as she got to her feet. He let his eyes drink her in. The khaki shorts she wore offered a pleasant view of her toned legs, pale pink from her time at the pool the day before. The white V-neck she had on stretched nicely over her ample curves.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “This is your house. I should be more thoughtful. I got a little carried away. It won’t happen again. From now on, I’ll confine our mess to our two rooms.”

Christ, did she think he was that much of an asshole?

He waved her words away. “You’re welcome to use this room whenever you want. I just wanted to speak with you, that’s all.”

Her eyes widened. “About?”

“Uh, about last night.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I was rude to storm off like that. It’s just—”

She closed the gap between, placing her palm on his arm. “I’m the one who should apologize. I asked questions about memories that are painful for you. I’m sorry.”

He was a bit dumbfounded at the fierce pleasure her touch brought and all he could do was nod.

Paige lowered her voice. “And don’t take Whitney’s reactions to heart. She’s skittish with everyone right now.” Her fingers stroked his forearm gently. “You’re doing great with her, though. It’s just going to take some time.”

Up close, he could see that the rims of her irises were a deeper blue than the rest of her eyes. Again, today she smelled like sunshine and—cinnamon. Several pieces of pink glitter were stuck to her cheek. He lifted his hand to wipe them away, but thought better of it. Touching her would not be wise.

“You—” He pointed at her cheek. “You have some glitter stuck to your face.”

He regretted his words immediately when she lifted her hand from his arm. She swiped at her cheek, missing the glitter altogether.

“No,” he said. “Higher.”

She brushed her fingers along her cheekbone in frustration, nowhere near the glitter.

“Not there.”

“Where?” She was starting to sound a little pissy.

He reached for her hand to guide her fingers to the correct spot. They both froze at his touch. One of them groaned. He was pretty sure it was him. Her blue eyes were suddenly dark as flames.

Ah, fuck it.

Tanner was past caring at this point. He leaned in, inhaling the light scent of soap on her skin, and pressed his lips to the glitter. Her surprised exhale of breath brushed against his neck, practically urging him on. He gently pinned her body against the wall with his own. Her pulse raced in the wrist he still held. He traced the curve of her cheek with his lips until he found the corner of her mouth. Her free hand landed on his biceps nearly scalding him with its heat.

Dammit, he wanted to feel that heat all over his body. Skin on skin. Releasing her hand, he delved his fingers beneath her T-shirt to lightly skim along her waist, then further up to her full breasts. Something primal roared within him when he came in contact with her pebbled nipples.

She feels it, too.

Paige moaned softly when he toyed with the hard nub. The sound of it had him straining against his zipper painfully. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as much as he wanted Paige Hollister. His head was practically ringing with desire.

“Tanner,” she breathed.

“Mmm.” He traced the line of her lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Tanner,” she said more forcefully, her fingernails digging into his arm. “There’s someone at the door.”

* * *

The doorbell rang again.Tanner froze with his lips hovering near her neck. It took everything she had to slip from his arms. He banged his forehead against the wall.

Paige was feeling the same frustration. Another minute and she likely would have embarrassed herself by climbing the man like a tree. And that would have been monumentally stupid.

Good thing Paige was done being stupid with men.

“Um, it’s probably Kate,” she explained, swiping aimlessly at the glitter.

With a single nod, Tanner shoved himself away from the wall and disappeared into the study.

Paige took a deep breath and counted to ten before she felt calm enough to answer the door.

“Oh my gosh, this is so fun,” Kate exclaimed a few minutes later. Emily and Henry were already tunneling through the blanket fort chasing one another. “But I may have to re-examine our friendship because now Emily is going to be scheming about a way to recreate this in our family room.”

“Okay, children.” Paige turned on her teacher voice. “We need to clean this up before we can go.”

A chorus of groans came from beneath the blankets before all three kids crawled out. Emily unclipped the blankets while Henry attempted to fold them up. Whitney stacked the books they’d been reading carefully. Paige turned off the fairy lights and rolled them into a ball.

“Well done, team,” Kate praised them. “Now, who’s ready for some golf?”

Emily and Henry cheered while Whitney clapped her hands.

“What’s this about golf?” Tanner asked from the doorway to his study.

“We are going to play putt-putt.” Henry pretended to swing a golf club, knocking over a lamp in the process.

Tanner caught the lamp before it hit the floor. “First of all, we need to work on your swing. Secondly, putt-putt isn’t golf. It’s a carnival game.”

All three kids went so still it was as if he’d announced there was no Santa Claus.

Paige glared at Tanner. How dare he ruin the kids’ enthusiasm. “Of course it’s golf. You play with a golf ball and a putter,” she reassured the children. “Don’t listen to him.”

Tanner scoffed. “Golf isn’t about avoiding windmills or pirate ships with a brightly colored ball. It’s about reading the greens, adjusting the torque of your swing to fit the wind speed. It’s calculating distance and topography.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “So, what you’re saying is putt-putt is too easy for a talented professional like you?”

His eyes darted to her chest for a brief moment, making her panties damp just thinking about his fingers there moments before. He met her eyes, looking as if he knew exactly what she was imagining.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he replied, silkily.

Paige lifted a hand so she could study her fingernails. “Too bad we can’t put your ridiculous theory to the test.”

What was she doing? She’d just barely escaped the dragon’s lair with her panties intact and now she was baiting him to join them? She should be running in the opposite direction.

“Um, Paige,” Kate whispered from beside her.

It was Tanner’s turn to throw his arms across his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged. “Just that if putt-putt is so easy, you’ll have no problem taking us on.” She gestured to the three children who were watching the exchange with rapt attention. “But I do have to warn you, I hold the course record at both the Lake Geneva and Mackinac Island putt-putt courses. That said, I’m sure I’ll be no match for the likes of you.”

His fingers twitched briefly before shoving them in his pockets. She wasn’t sure, but she thought his forehead looked a little damp. Still, his gaze never wavered. Almost as if he’d gone to the Lamar Hollister school of interrogation.

“Game on,” he surprised her by saying.

Henry did a little whoop. Emily handed Whitney her shoes. Kate shook her head in warning.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she murmured as she led them toward her car.