Return of the Secret Heir by Rachel Bailey

horrified expression if she’d overheard someone asking one of her daughters that question. The Baxter girls were not raised to make things. They were raised to earn exorbitant wages—or marry money—then pay others to make things for them.
    â€œNo,” she said, “a lawyer.”
    â€œDo you ever sell your creations? Because I’d be first in line to buy one.”
    Sell them? Pia almost laughed. Her job took practically every minute of her day, and once she made partner, it would only get busier. And this woman thought she’d have time to sit around and make hats for other people? That after a law degree from Yale and incalculable hours of overtime, she’d suddenly start spending her nights whipping up designs? A niggle of annoyance reared its head—solely to do with the conversation, not with the fact that this woman was on JT’s arm, of course.
    â€œSorry to disappoint,” she said with a polite smile, “I don’t have the time.”
    Christina was undeterred. “Well, if you ever change your mind, please make sure I’m the first person you call because—”
    â€œNell,” JT interrupted, “there’s something I wanted to discuss. Do you have a moment to take a walk with me?”
    Thankful for the interruption, she turned to him. The offer of escape from Christina’s well-intentioned enthusiasm was hard to bypass, but there was a danger in being alone with this man. Although, they wouldn’t be alone—they were at an event, being held in a large park filled with people, in the middle of the day. It was nothing like being alone at their special beach in the moonlight.
    JT offered his arm and after only a brief hesitation, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Christina, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and after they made goodbyes to Christina, they moved away.
    â€œSo you haven’t given up completely on your dream to be a fashion designer,” he said lightly, looking ahead. She sighed. So much for avoiding a discussion on the topic by leaving with him.
    â€œI’m not designing hats. It’s just a pragmatic solution when I can’t find a suitable one.”
    JT looked down into Pia’s serious expression as they walked and wondered if she truly believed that. Had she sublimated her creative nature that far, or was she spinning him a line? Her eyes didn’t flicker. She did believe it—she thought she was as straitlaced as her parents and sisters. Sure, he’d seen the signs when they’d met again—the conservative suits, the harshly pinned-back hair, the closed expression—but he’d thought it was a facade for her career’s sake. And for his sake. But now it was obvious she truly believed it.
    She’d forgotten the shape of her soul.
    He rubbed a finger across his forehead. How was that possible? Perhaps it’d been the aftermath of losing their baby, when she’d closed herself off to him. It’d been the worst time of his life—perhaps it’d also been enough to rupture her self-image, her belief in her true self?
    He blew out a long breath. Whenever it’d happened, whatever it was that had changed her from a free-spirited, joyful person, it was wrong. Suddenly desperate to ruffle her feathers, to mess up that oh-so-controlled mask she was wearing, he guided them away from the crowd, to another part of the garden that was open to tourists but seemed to be empty.
    â€œPia,” he said, low, as they walked, “you’re not this person.”
    Her gaze flew up to his, her violet eyes startled. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThis,” he waved a hand up and down her outfit, “is one of your sisters, not you.”
    Her eyes hardened and her chin swung away as she spoke. “No, JT. I’ve grown up. Don’t presume you know anything about me anymore.”
    People grew up, sure, but they didn’t change