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The room seemed benign now, not at all the way she remembered it in her nightmares. That dreadful day was etched in her memory by the sharp blades of hurt and disillusionment. She’d considered herself an honorary Sinclair, but they had sided with Jesse.

“What are you doing in here?”

Trent’s sharp voice startled her so badly, she spun and almost lost her balance. She placed a steadying hand on the rolltop desk and bit her lip. “You scared me.”

His scowl deepened. “I asked you a question, Bryn.”

She licked her lips, her legs like jelly. “I wanted to send my son an e-mail.”

Trent’s face went blank, but she saw him clench his fists. “Don’t mention your son in my presence,” he said, his voice soft but deadly. “Not if you know what’s good for you.”

Bryn could take the knocks life dealt her, but no one was going to speak ill of her baby while there was breath in her body.

She squared her shoulders. “His name is Allen. And he’s Jesse’s son. I know it, and I think deep in your heart, you and Mac and Gage and Sloan know it, too. Why would I lie, for heaven’s sake?”

Trent shrugged, his gaze watchful. “Women lie,” he said, his words deliberately cutting, “all the time—to get what they want.”

For the first time, she understood something that had never before been clear to her, especially not as an immature teenager. When Mac’s flighty young wife abandoned her family years ago, the damage had run deep.

The Matthews family had come along to fill in the gaps. For more than a decade, Bryn and her mother had been the only females in an all-male enclave. And Bryn had assumed that trust was a two-way street. But when Jesse swore that he had never slept with Bryn, Mac and Trent had believed him. It was as simple as that.

Bryn chose her words carefully. “I don’t lie. Maybe you’ve had bad luck with the women in your life, but I can’t help that. I told the truth six years ago, and I’m telling the truth now.”

He curled his lip. “Easy for you to say. With Jesse not here to defend himself.”

She tamped down her anger, desperate to get through to him. “Jesse was a troubled boy who grew into a troubled man. You all spoiled him and babied him, and he used your love as a weapon. I have the scars to prove it. But Jesse’s gone, and I’m still here. And so is my son. He deserves to know his birthright—his family.”

Trent leaned back against his wall, the hard planes of his face showing no signs of remorse. “How much do you want?” he said bluntly. “How big a check do I have to write to make you leave and never come back?”

The bottom fell out of her stomach, and her jaw actually dropped. “Go to hell,” she said, her lips trembling.

He grabbed her wrist as she headed for the door. “Maybe I’ll take you with me,” he muttered.

This time, there was no pretense of tenderness. He was angry and it showed in his kiss. Their mouths battled, his hands buried in her hair, hers clenched on his shoulders.

At eighteen she’d thought she understood sex and desire. After Jesse’s betrayal, she’d understood that his love was an illusion. As was Mac’s…and Trent’s.

Now, with six years of celibacy to her credit and a heart that was being split wide open with the knowledge that she had never stopped loving Trent Sinclair, she was lost.

The kiss changed in one indefinable instant. She curled a hand behind his neck, stroking the short, soft hair that was never allowed to brush his collar. His skin was warm, so warm.

She went limp in his embrace, too tired to fight anymore. Her breasts were crushed against his hard chest. Her lips no longer struggled with his. She capitulated to the sweetness of being close to him again. A sweetness tainted with the knowledge that he thought she was a liar. That she had tried to manipulate them all.

Gradually, they stepped away from a dangerous point of no return. Trent’s expression was closed, his body language defensive.

She nodded jerkily toward the desk. “I’ll use the computer later. I’m sure you have work to do.”

When he didn’t respond at all, she fled.

Trent was not accustomed to second-guessing himself. Confidence and determination had propelled him to success in the cutting-edge, fast-paced world of solar and wind energy. When he’d received the call about his father’s heart attack, Trent had been in the midst of an enormous deal that involved buying up a half-dozen smaller companies and incorporating them into the already well-respected business model that was Sinclair Synergies.

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