It Might Be You

by Jennifer Gracen

  When he got back to the hotel, he went to the gym and had a short workout, then went to his room to shower. By the time he looked at his phone again, there were several texts and missed calls. Texts from his mom, Darin checking in, and a hello from his sister Erica—that one he answered. He adored his sisters. Erica was now twenty-two and Olivia was about to turn twenty. They weren’t babies anymore. But they’d always be his baby sisters, and God help the men who looked their way. Even though he wasn’t talking to his parents yet, he’d never shut out his sisters, so he texted her a quick hi to say he was fine and they’d chat soon. Darin, he could answer that in a bit.

  The text from Charles made him laugh out loud. You didn’t have to return the car.

  Nick guessed the rental place had contacted him. Let him stew. The hell with him.

  One voice mail, from a local number he didn’t recognize. He listened.

  “Hi, Nick. This is Lisette Harrison. Charles gave me your number, I hope that’s okay. I’m only calling because Myles said you’d mentioned you’d be back to play video games with him. He thinks you’re coming over sometime today. Would you just let me know if you are or not, so I can tell him? I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

  Ah, shit. Nick sighed, his mind working as he got dressed. He didn’t want to set foot in that house again, but he didn’t want to let Myles down a thousand times more. And it wasn’t like he had any plans for the evening. When he finished getting ready, he returned Lisette’s call.

  “I can’t talk long,” he said, trying to be polite. He wasn’t mad at Lisette; there was no reason to be curt with her. “I have my appointment at the hospital in less than an hour and want to get going.”

  “I appreciate your getting back to me at all,” Lisette said. “You’re not obligated to entertain Myles. You’re not obligated to do anything.”

  It almost made him wince, the way Lisette was walking on eggshells around him out of gratitude and a hint of desperation. “Well, I did tell him I’d hang out with him if he wanted, and if it was okay with his parents. I should’ve checked with you before saying something like that. I apologize.”

  “No, don’t apologize! It’s fine with me!”

  “And your husband?”

  Lisette paused. “Myles being happy is what matters most right now.”

  “I’d never do anything to hurt your son,” Nick promised. “I hope you know that. I know I must be public enemy number one over there right now, but—”

  “You’re not,” she said. “Please don’t think that. Besides . . . I’m here. Amanda’s here. Charles can’t complain. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  The mention of Amanda gave Nick a little lift. Seeing her again would be a fantastic bonus. “I have no idea how long my appointment at the hospital will take,” he said. “Why don’t I give you a call whenever it’s done? Maybe I’ll come by tonight, after dinner. Just for an hour or so, whatever he’s up to. Is that good for you?”

  “Whatever works for you is fine,” Lisette said. “Myles will be thrilled. He likes you, you know.”

  Nick drew a breath as he made sure he had everything: wallet, keys, sunglasses against the glary gray sky. “Does he know? Did Charles tell him?”

  “Not yet,” Lisette said. “He, um . . . he’s not going to tell Myles you’re his uncle until he’s one hundred percent sure that you are. Surely you can understand that.”

  “I do,” Nick said, but something hot seared through him anyway. Charles still didn’t want to believe him. “He wants further testing, I assume?”

  “You’d have to discuss that with him.”

  “Of course. Sorry.”

  “No, I . . . it’s a . . . well, it’s an incredible thing, isn’t it? All of it.”

  “Yup.” Nick shoved his wallet in his jeans. “I have to go. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  “Good luck,” she said. “I hope it goes well.”

  “Me too.”

  * * *

  By the time Nick got to the mansion, it was seven o’clock. He so did not want to be there. But at least there wouldn’t be seventeen Harrisons on the other side of the door tonight, only six, four of whom were kids. He rang the bell, ignoring the tight feeling in his stomach.

  It was a girl who answered. A teenager with long, sleek dark hair and bright blue eyes that swept over him in an open assessment.

  “Hi,” Nick said. “I’m here to see Myles.”

  “I know who you are,” she said. “I was in the dining room last night. I’m Ava. Apparently, I’m your niece.”

  Nick’s mouth went dry. Charles’s oldest child was a beauty, and he could tell just from her shrewd gaze she was smart and strong like her dad. “You overheard, huh?”

  “Hard not to. After you left, they were all flipping out. They talked about it for a long time. You got my dad all fired up.” She moved aside. “Come on in.”

  He stepped into the foyer and removed his jacket. “I should leave this down here, right? I was at the hospital all afternoon, then went and got some dinner. . . . I don’t know the rules.”

  “It’s nice of you to think of that. Yes to the jacket. Leave your shoes here too.” Ava pointed to the corner, but kept staring at him. “You’re really my uncle?”

  “I think so,” Nick hedged, remembering Lisette’s words. Charles didn’t want to tell his kids yet—that wasn’t Nick’s call to make. He wasn’t going to cause more trouble.

  “What do you mean, ‘you think so’?” Ava demanded. “Either you are or you aren’t. Right?”

  “Ava.” Charles’s voice rang out sharply. He appeared from the hallway. His eyes flickered briefly to Nick before going back to his daughter. “Mind your business.”

  “If he’s my uncle, isn’t that kind of my business?” she said.

  Nick stood in silence. He wasn’t touching this.

  Charles sighed as he met his daughter’s demanding gaze. “We have to run a test to make sure.”

  “Were you going to run that by me?” Nick asked. “Just curious.”

  Charles arched a brow. “If you’re opposed, maybe there’s a reason for that?”

  Nick swallowed back the reply he wanted to let fly, minding the girl. He grinned instead. “Nothing to hide. You want me to take a test, that’s fine. But you could’ve, oh, I don’t know . . . asked. Some people would call that courtesy.”

  Charles pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as his eyes met Nick’s. “Consider this my asking, then.”

  “I don’t know why you don’t just believe him,” Ava said. “I went and looked at those old pictures last night. Aunt Tess was right—he does look just like Grandpa when he was young. If Grandpa was Puerto Rican, that is.”

  “Ava.” The word flew out of Charles like a shot.

  Nick laughed. He looked kindly at her and said, “Don’t sweat it. I am—you’re right. Well, actually, I’m half. But obviously I have my mother’s coloring.”

  “I don’t care about ‘half’ anything,” Ava declared. “Charlotte is my half sister, and I don’t think of her that way. She’s just my little sister. Blood is blood. So if you’re my uncle, you’re not my half uncle. That’s stupid.”

  Nick nodded slowly, taking in this fiery girl. “I have two younger half sisters, and I think of them exactly the same way. I like you, kid.”

  She grinned.

  “Ava,” Charles said. “I’m here to take Nick up to see your brother. Did you finish all your homework?”

  “About three hours ago,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “Good. Why don’t you go do your thing for now, all right?”

  “Trying to get rid of me, Dad? So subtle.” She looked back up at Nick and said, “It was nice to meet you. And . . . thank you for being here. To help Myles. It means a lot. Like, a lot.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Ava,” Nick said. As soon as she walked away, Nick said to Charles, “She gives you a run for it, huh?”

  “You have no idea.” Charles rubbed the back of his n
eck in mild frustration before looking him over. “How’d it go at the hospital today?”

  “Okay, I guess.” Nick gave Charles a brief overview: he’d given blood, found out he would be further tested for signs of infectious disease, and answered extensive questions about his health history. “The truth is . . . I have no idea how to answer all of it. Because I don’t know any history on my father’s side. I told them that. That they should contact you. So, if you could provide them with those answers, that’d be helpful.”

  “Are you willing to come by tomorrow afternoon?” Charles asked with a cool stare. “I’ll have someone come here. We’ll get the testing done right away.”

  “If you want. But not for nothing, I already had the inside of my cheek swabbed when I signed up to be a bone marrow donor. That’s why I’m here at all,” Nick pointed out. “Remember?”

  Charles’s mouth opened, then closed. Then he said, “Okay. That’s true.”

  “So my end’s done. The hospital has all my medical info on file. I’ll give them permission to release it to you. It’s on you to get your pops swabbed. Not my problem.”

  “No? You’re a cop. I’d think having hard evidence would be paramount to someone like you. I’d think you’d be just as invested in finding out the truth as I am.”

  Nick wanted to snarl at him. But he reined it in. “In this case, you’re the one chomping at the bit for overnight proof. You’re a powerful man. Get it done.”

  Charles’s face darkened. “Fine. I will. But if I need a fresh swab from you?”

  “I’ll do it.” Nick felt his blood pulsing now, his annoyance turning red hot. He wanted to know the truth without a doubt too, but he wasn’t going to let this man push him around. It made him want to push back. “So. Did you even tell dear old Dad yet?”

  “No.” Charles’s square jaw, so like his own, set tightly. “Let’s get the test done first. One step at a time.”

  Nick snorted. “Whatever.”

  “It’s interesting to me—you don’t seem to be in a hurry to tell him the big news,” Charles noted. “Or to talk to him at all.”

  “He sounds like a first-class prick,” Nick said. “Why would I?”

  Charles blinked, obviously taken aback. “Because you say he’s your father.”

  “No, he’s not,” Nick said. “He’s yours. Lew Martell is my father. Charles Harrison the second was my sperm donor. Who, it seems, used my mother and made her scared enough of his power to leave the state and hide my existence from him. Not exactly looking to have a family reunion with him, you know?”

  Charles rubbed his chin, then his jaw, seeming to contemplate what Nick had said. “My father will find out, of course. You know that.”

  Nick shrugged.

  “You have no interest in meeting him?” Charles asked. “None at all? You’re not even a little curious?”

  Nick ran his hands through his hair and looked around. They were alone, but he dropped his voice low anyway, knowing others were in the house. “Your father, from most accounts, is a real bastard. I don’t need or want him in my life. Do I want to set eyes on him at least once? Sure. Out of mere curiosity. But that’s about it. I’m not looking to hug it out or anything. I’m not looking for anything at all.”

  Charles just stared at him, incredulous.

  Nick shook his head and headed to the stairs. “I’m going up now. Your son’s waiting for me. I won’t stay too long—don’t worry.”

  “I don’t mind,” Charles said as he walked past him. “Stay as long as he wants you to. It was good of you to come here.”

  “I didn’t do it for you.”

  “You didn’t have to take the car back, you know,” Charles said to his back.

  At that, Nick stopped halfway up the staircase to slide a look over his shoulder. “Yeah, actually, I sure as hell did.”

  Charles snorted, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re stubborn, proud, and fierce, aren’t you?” he said. “With a temper usually set to a low simmer. Probably lethal when it breaks loose, right?”

  “Try me and find out,” Nick said calmly. It wasn’t a threat, merely a statement.

  But Charles’s mouth curved more, into a full-out wry grin. “I don’t know about your mother’s family, but I have to tell you . . . those are all Harrison traits. Like, Being a Harrison 101. The more I watch you, the more I listen to you, the more I see it. It’s fascinating, actually. You ever hear of nature versus nurture?”

  Yeah, he had. “I thought you didn’t believe me.”

  “I never said I didn’t. I just want unequivocal proof,” Charles said. “For the record? I do think you’re a Harrison. Like you’ve pointed out, you came up as the match, and damned if you don’t look like our father. But I don’t like that you lied to me. Right to my face. That’s what makes me not trust you.”

  “I didn’t lie, actually. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth right away. But you know what? I already explained why I did that. If you refuse to understand, that’s your problem,” Nick said. “Besides, you don’t have to trust me. I’m just here to donate, do this thing, and then I’ll go back to my life and you’ll all go back to yours. Done deal.”

  Charles smirked and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Really?” He studied him shrewdly. “You’re going to spend a few weeks here—could be more, who knows—with your newfound siblings, nephews, nieces . . . get to know everyone . . . going to go through some possibly tough stuff, medically . . . and then you’re going to just go back to your old life, like none of this happened? Like we all don’t exist? Okay.” He shrugged, his brows rising. “It’s stone cold, but hey—so’s your biological father. Maybe you have more in common than we know.”

  Nick shot him a withering look. “You’re the one who made it clear you don’t trust me, big brother. Right now, that goes both ways.”

  * * *

  Amanda answered the soft knock on Myles’s door. She opened it to see Nick Martell standing there, and her breath hitched. God, he was so gorgeous. Not just good-looking, but hot. Sexy as hell. Something about him hinted of sin. From the first minute she’d laid eyes on him, she’d felt a buzz in her blood just thinking about him.

  She’d hoped she would see him again soon, known she probably would because of Myles . . . but when Lisette had mentioned he would be coming by tonight, Amanda had felt a surge of excitement that was almost irrational. She’d met him once, for Pete’s sake, and spent about twenty minutes in his presence. Now, one look at him and the urge to lick his skin was overwhelming. God. This wildly physical reaction to him was insane.

  “Hi.” Their eyes met and she felt a bucket of butterflies unload in her stomach. Yup, it happened again. Pure chemistry. She wondered if maybe he felt it too, even a lick of it.

  “Hey.” He smiled down at her. He was easily at least six inches taller. “Nice to see you.”

  “Come on in. He fell asleep an hour ago,” Amanda said, moving to let him inside. “But he might wake up soon. He naps a lot.”

  “Poor kid,” Nick mumbled, his eyes lingering on Myles before moving back to her. “Should I come back another time?”

  “No, stay. Really, he’ll probably be up soon. His naps are usually about an hour, and he wakes up on his own.”

  “Okay . . .” Nick closed the door behind him. “Guess it’s just you and me for a bit, then. Hope you don’t mind.”

  Her heart actually fluttered. “Not at all.” She went to grab a surgical mask from the box and the hand sanitizer, trying not to feel so breathless from the thought of being alone with him, the appeal of his deep voice, or the way his warm brown eyes seemed to drink her in.

  He stood still by the door, staring at Myles as he slept. She let her eyes run over him, quickly taking in every sexy inch. His inky black hair was cropped very short in back and on the sides, just a little longer on top.... Her fingers itched to play in it. Warm brown eyes and long, dark eyelashes—why did men always get the gorgeous long lashes? she wondered. Not fair. Straig
ht, narrow nose and a strong, square jaw, with full lips just made for kissing . . . she felt a burn zip through her at the thought of what he could likely do with that sensual mouth. And that body, good Lord. He was so clearly muscled; the long-sleeved navy T-shirt he wore was tight over the bulges in his biceps, taut across his broad chest and shoulders, defining all his hard angles. His jeans hung on narrow hips, over long legs and what appeared to be a perfect ass. . . .

  She cleared her throat. She had to keep talking, or she’d likely just ogle this tall slice of walking testosterone until she embarrassed herself. “Myles was really looking forward to hanging out with you.”

  “Was he?” Nick asked. “That’s . . . well, I was going to say that’s cool, but maybe it isn’t. I don’t know.”

  “Why not?” Amanda asked as she came at him with the hand sanitizer.

  He held out his palms to her. “You’re a nurse. You tell me.”

  She frowned as she squirted the gel. “Not getting you.”

  “He shouldn’t be getting attached to me, or me to him,” Nick said, rubbing his hands together. “Right?”

  “Ah. Well. Easier said than done.” She watched as he adjusted the mask over his nose and mouth. Pity to cover those gorgeously pouty lips. “Truth? I’m attached as hell. I adore him. So you’re talking to someone who’s already broken a cardinal rule.”

  “How long have you been with him?”

  “Fourteen months.”

  Nick whistled low. “How can you not get invested? C’mon. You’d have to have no heart.” His dark eyes flickered to Myles, empathy clear in his troubled gaze. “I can’t even imagine what he’s already been through . . .”

  “You don’t want to know,” she murmured. “But he’s so brave. Such a fighter. With such a wonderful spirit and a heart of gold.”

  “Tell me about him.” Nick’s eyes held hers. “Tell me what he’s like.”

  They sat in the two cushioned chairs by the window and talked quietly for a while. Nick asked many questions about Myles, and she answered the ones about his illness and his treatments as best she could. Some of the ones about his personality, and what he liked to do, fine. But when she gently suggested maybe he should be asking the family the more personal things instead of her, he clammed up. After a minute, he tentatively explained that he couldn’t right now because they didn’t trust him.