If I Trust You (Mills & Boon Spice)

by BETH KERY

  “I bet I know what you’re thinking,” Deidre murmured. “That I was the one who made things worse for myself by getting involved with Nick.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that. I know firsthand that the heart can lead you into some very sticky situations, indeed—look at Marc’s and my romance.” Mari’s gaze sharpened on her. “How do you feel about Nick, Dee? From what you just said, I’m getting the impression you’re intensely attracted to each other.”

  Deidre smiled sadly. “You want to know if there’s more to it than lust, you mean?”

  “I guess so,” Mari conceded.

  Deidre took a sip of her tea, her gaze on the flaming logs in the hearth. “On my part, yes,” she whispered after a pause.

  “And you’re angry at yourself for feeling that way?” Mari prompted.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” Deidre said, meeting her sister-in-law’s stare. “I made a fool of myself. I got involved with a man who planned all along to take me to court, who never believed in my claim to be Lincoln’s daughter.”

  “I thought you said Nick wasn’t planning to contest the will.”

  “He did say that, but should I believe him?” she asked Mari desperately. “John Kellerman implied that was Nick’s fallback plan all along—to contest the will based on his belief that Lincoln was of unsound mind at the time it was drawn up. He intended to use that letter as evidence of Lincoln’s incapacity. That’s why he refused to let me see it.”

  “It would have been very upsetting for you to see.”

  Deidre did a double take and studied Mari’s face. “So you think Nick was trying to protect me by keeping the letter from me?”

  Mari sighed uncertainly and took a sip of her tea. “I think it’s possible. I don’t know. There is a terrific amount of money and power at stake.”

  “Exactly,” Deidre muttered. “You begin to see why I doubt myself.”

  “I don’t know Nick well enough to say what he’d do, one way or another. You must not feel you know him well enough, either.”

  A log popped in the silence that followed. Mari persevered when Deidre didn’t respond.

  “You wouldn’t be here in Chicago while he’s still in Harbor Town if you didn’t think Nick was being duplicitous,” Mari prompted.

  “He was being duplicitous,” Deidre stated with more energy than she felt. “He shouldn’t have slept with me, knowing what he knew. If he didn’t have faith in Lincoln’s judgment and planned to contest the will—even if his plans were tenuous—that was crucial information he should have given me before we got involved.”

  “Nick changed his mind about contesting the will once he got to know you better,” Mari said softly. “That’s significant, don’t you think? I can’t help but wonder...”

  “What?” Deidre asked when Mari trailed off.

  “Well...if the thing that hurt you the most wasn’t that Nick had doubts that you were the rightful heir to DuBois Enterprises. It was that Nick doubted the validity of Lincoln’s blind faith that you were his daughter.”

  Deidre stared unseeingly at the flames. Mari’s comment hurt, and she couldn’t help but suspect it pained her so much because there was an element of truth to it. Mari must have sensed her discomfort because she patted her knee again warmly.

  “We don’t have to belabor it right now. It’s Christmastime,” she said, nodding toward the gorgeous nine-foot Douglas fir decorated with lights and ornaments situated to the right of the fireplace. “I’ll be doing a special Christmas Eve concert tomorrow afternoon with the symphony. You and Marc can attend together. Ryan couldn’t make it for the concert, but he’ll be here late tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have our own little family Christmas. It’ll be nice.”

  Deidre tried to muster some enthusiasm into her smile, but it was hard.

  What would Nick be doing for Christmas, now that she’d fled Harbor Town? Surely he’d return to The Pines or to San Francisco. She hated the idea of him spending the holiday alone in the Starling Hotel.

  She chastised herself when she realized how worked up she was getting as she considered the possibility.

  She was in the process of unpacking later when her cell phone rang. She cautiously checked the number but didn’t recognize it. For a moment, she wavered about answering it. Nick had called three times since their blowup yesterday, and her mother had left yet another message, imploring her to come to her house for Christmas Eve. She dreaded talking to Nick, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  Had she been wrong to react as she did? What kind of rotten luck did she possess, to fall in love with a man while billions of dollars were at stake? Could she ever completely trust his motives, now that she knew he’d kept his thoughts about Lincoln’s letter secret from her?

  She felt uncertain about talking to her mother, as well. They’d gotten along so well at the McGraw Stables. What’s more, Liam and Natalie would be home for Christmas following their honeymoon. Colleen, Eric and the kids would go to Sycamore Avenue. If things hadn’t derailed so drastically yesterday after John’s visit and the call from GenLabs, Deidre suspected she’d have been accepting her mom’s invitation.

  She made a split-second decision and answered the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Kavanaugh? Deidre?” Something about the slight quaver in his voice suggested she spoke to an older man.

  “Yes?”

  “Hello. My name is Abel Warren. I was Lincoln DuBois’s personal attorney and am the designated attorney for his estate.”

  “Oh...hello, Mr. Warren.”

  “I’m very sorry about your loss, Ms. Kavanaugh.”

  “Thank you. You knew Lincoln for a very long time, I’m sure. I’m sorry for your loss, as well.”

  “Lincoln was a good friend. I hope you don’t mind me reaching you at this number. Nick Malone gave it to me.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes. He asked me to contact you in regard to several things, one crucial item being the availability of your funds.”

  “Funds?”

  “Yes. Your bank accounts and assets? I previously understood from Nick that we were waiting to hear about paternity testing. However, seeing as how paternity has been confirmed and Nick has given the go-ahead, we are free to carry on.”

  “But I haven’t given you and Nick the official report yet,” she said numbly. “GenLabs is sending it special delivery later this afternoon.”

  “Nick is satisfied with a verbal affirmation, and I’m satisfied if he is. Ms. Kavanaugh?” the man asked when she was too stunned to reply for several seconds. Deidre was too busy absorbing the news that Nick had told the lawyer that her word was golden. Of course she shouldn’t be surprised, should she? Nick had insinuated he wouldn’t stop her from getting access to Lincoln’s inheritance even before the results from the genetic testing had come.

  “Yes?”

  “I understand from Nick that discovering you are Lincoln’s coheir has come as quite a shock to you,” he said, his voice gentle. “Becoming an extremely wealthy woman overnight must be bewildering. It might be easy to begin to doubt your own instincts. While I would advise extreme caution, I hope you don’t give up on trusting yourself.”

  Something about the unexpected kindness of the attorney affected her deeply. She gave a ragged laugh. “I’ll try,” she said.

  “Give it time. It’ll sink in, slowly. I want you to know that I’m your ally, Deidre. Did you know that I worked for your grandfather, George DuBois, before I went to work for Lincoln?”

  “No,” she said softly.

  “Well I did. So you see, you’re the third generation of DuBoises that I’ll be offering service to. What do you think of that?”

  Deidre smiled. She could almost picture a twinkle in the attorney’s eye as he spoke. Third generation of DuBoises.

 
; “I think it sounds like I’m very lucky,” she said.

  He chuckled. “That you are. We’ll make an appointment to meet as soon as possible, but first things first. I’ve made arrangements to make your funds available to you immediately. Here’s what we’re going to do...”

  * * *

  The next morning Deidre sat with Marc, Mari and Riley at their dining room table eating breakfast. Riley wore a pretty red and white velvet dress for Christmas Eve, but Mari had covered her in so many bibs while she ate that the little girl looked like an adorable patchwork quilt.

  “There’s nothing in the papers yet mentioning you specifically,” Marc said, finishing his perusal of the morning edition. “But there’s a small blurb in the business section suggesting that changes are afoot at DuBois Enterprises following Lincoln’s death. Apparently a big announcement is about to be made.”

  “Abel Warren told me yesterday that Nick has scheduled a press conference for the day after Christmas,” Deidre said. “He’ll make an official announcement in Harbor Town about Lincoln’s will.” She noticed her brother giving Mari a significant glance. “I know what you’re probably thinking,” Deidre said quietly, taking a sip of her coffee.

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Marc asked, his mouth quirked into a grin.

  “That Nick certainly is acting very cooperatively for someone who was lying and planning to take me to court.”

  Riley waved a candy-cane-shaped plush toy and shouted in the ensuing silence.

  “He’s behaving much more civilly than I would have thought when this whole thing started,” Marc admitted neutrally.

  She’d told her brother last night about her romantic liaison with Nick, although with not as much detail as she’d given Mari. Deidre could almost cut a knife through her brother’s concern when she’d admitted to having an affair with Nick Malone. She suspected he was also disappointed in her lapse in judgment, and that’s what really pained her.

  “Well, I’ll need to get into Orchestra Hall soon,” Mari said, checking the clock on the wall. “Do you plan on doing anything before the concert, Deidre?”

  “I was considering shopping for a dress. I don’t have anything to wear to the concert.”

  “You can always borrow one of my dresses, but I think it’s a terrific idea for you to go shopping,” Mari told her with a significant glance. “Breaking in those debit cards Mr. Warren had sent to you this morning will start to get you used to the idea that you have practically unlimited funds at your disposal. You’ve got to get used to being rich at some point,” Mari said when Deidre gave her a dry glance.

  “I wasn’t going to use any of the cards,” she said, referring to Abel’s temporary solution to giving her access to her funds. “I have my own money.”

  “Lincoln DuBois’s money is your money,” Marc said so sharply that she glanced at her brother in surprise. He raised his eyebrows in a quiet challenge. “You’re his daughter, Deidre. He wanted you to enjoy the benefits of his wealth. From what you told me, he would have wanted that more than anything. I agree with Mari. The sooner you start to get used to the fact that you’re wealthy—that you’re Lincoln DuBois’s daughter—the sooner you’ll start to internalize the change in your circumstances. Forgive me for saying so, but it’s an insult to Lincoln’s wishes for you to continue to deny his gift to you.”

  Deidre looked away. She suddenly had an overwhelming wish that Nick was there to reassure her with his solemn, gray-eyed gaze.

  * * *

  Mari had recommended a designer boutique on Oak Street that Deidre couldn’t help but feel was way out of her league. Deidre demurred when the salesclerk showed her a stunning crimson, raw silk dress, but then she’d agreed to try it on, and the gown had sold itself. Its neckline showed off her neck, shoulders and a tasteful amount of chest to good effect and the faux ermine accents around the arm cuff gave it a Yuletide air. She hadn’t entirely believed the salesclerk when she’d told her breathlessly that Deidre looked like a Christmas princess, but Deidre couldn’t help but feel like one as she stared at herself in the dressing-room mirror.

  She’d never purchased a dress as expensive as this one. Slowly she pulled out one of the new cards Abel Warren had sent and stared at it for a few seconds.

  “No, wait,” Deidre said tensely when the salesclerk reached to take the debit card.

  Her hand wavered. It seemed wrong somehow, that a debit card should symbolize Lincoln. You meant more to me than this, she thought desperately. I’ll never be able to tell you how much more.

  Almost immediately, she imagined Lincoln replying to her in his matter-of-fact tone.

  Well, of course I know. You meant more to me than anything money could ever buy. But the money is my legacy to you. Besides, you wouldn’t deny me the pleasure of buying my daughter a Christmas dress, would you?

  The salesclerk looked at her like she was a tad “off” when Deidre suddenly gave a bark of laughter and smiled. She handed the woman the debit card.

  Thank you, she thought to herself fervently, and Merry Christmas, Lincoln.

  * * *

  Marc wolf-whistled when she joined him downstairs that afternoon wearing her new dress.

  “Who’d have guessed there was a goddess hiding under your army fatigues,” he joked.

  Deidre snorted and gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Who’d have guessed there was an ornery big brother under the facade of a Cook County prosecutor and U.S. senator-to-be?”

  She was feeling a little more heartened by the time they left Riley with her nanny and got in a cab. Christmas Eve was definitely in the air, she realized as the cabdriver pulled off the inner drive and into the bustling downtown area. Michigan Avenue was packed with last-minute shoppers and tourists. Christmas lights shone on every tree lining the street. The tiny, white lights, not the old-fashioned color ones, Deidre realized.

  She tried to ignore the pang of melancholy that went through her when she thought of Nick’s and her Christmas tree standing dark and silent in the Cedar Cottage living room.

  All during the concert she had to suppress an urge to ask her brother what the right thing to do was in regard to Nick, her mother...her entire future. She didn’t really expect Marc to give her a cut-and-dried answer, but she couldn’t help but wish for the impossible.

  Mari was going to pick up her brother Ryan at the airport following the concert, so Marc and Deidre returned to the townhouse to get things ready for their arrival. Riley was taking a nap, so they relieved the nanny and followed a couple mealtime preparation instructions Mari had given them. Afterward, they concentrated on whipping the house into a festive condition.

  “Why don’t you just spill it, Dee,” Marc said dryly as he built a fire in the living room and Deidre lit all the Christmas lights.

  “Spill what?” Deidre asked, turning toward him. She grabbed her cup of hot apple cider off the mantel and sat down in a chair before the fireplace.

  “You were practically vibrating during the concert you were thinking so hard. Why don’t you just tell me what’s on your mind?” Marc said. He gave the flickering logs and kindling one last poke and tossed the fire iron aside before he took a seat next to her.

  She bit her bottom lip uncertainly.

  “I’ve never been undecided in my life,” she sighed. “The right choice always seemed so clear to me. I knew without a doubt I wanted to practice nursing, even more specifically, emergency and trauma medicine. I knew I wanted to serve in the military in combat, where my skills would be most needed. I knew I was right in keeping my distance from Mom....” She trailed off hesitantly, but Marc didn’t interrupt her thought process. “Or at least, I thought I was right. I suppose I just wish the right choices were as clear to me now as they have been in the past.”

  “I got the impression from something Mom said the other day that you and she had b
een spending some time together. How was that for you?” Marc asked.

  “Uncomfortable at first. But it was getting better. Much better,” she said softly, watching as the fire spread through the kindling. She sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could just go back to the Middle East or Europe...forget this whole bizarre situation with Lincoln making me an heiress...forget...”

  “Nick Malone?”

  Deidre glanced at her brother. He looked carelessly handsome sitting there in his shirtsleeves and dress pants. It struck her that he was starting to look very much like Derry Kavanaugh had in his prime—confident and easy with himself, the type of man people instinctively trusted and respected. Her heart seemed to squeeze in her chest at the poignant realization of the inevitable passage of time.

  “You think I was a fool to ever trust Nick, don’t you?”

  Marc didn’t respond immediately. She could sense him choosing his words in the silence.

  “You’re wondering if you can trust him,” Marc said. “I can’t be the one to tell you that, Deidre. Only you can know that. I have faith in you, if that helps any.”

  She met his stare and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said with a small grin.

  They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

  “Do you think that Mom and Dad trusted each other after their affairs...I mean, really trusted?” Deidre asked him.

  Marc inhaled slowly. “Mom has told me that she took a vow to forget the past and move ahead with Dad. I believe it was true on both of their parts. I never caught the slightest hint when I was a kid that they weren’t completely devoted to each other,” Marc said. “Did you?”

  Deidre shook her head, staring at the growing flames. “That’s what made discovering the truth about Lincoln that much more devastating.”

  Marc grunted in agreement.

  “Poor Dad. I can’t imagine how it must have hit him,” she whispered.