by Nora Roberts
hell of a lot tougher than Douglas Edward Cullen not to fall for him. “If you did, your mom would be awfully lonely.”
“She doesn’t like me anymore because the bad guys stuffed up the toilet and it flushed over, and we got the peanut butter and the shoe.” Tears plopped out. “But we didn’t mean it.”
“Busy day.” Impossible to hold back, Doug admitted, and kissed the hot, wet cheeks. “If you didn’t mean it, you must be sorry. Maybe you should tell her you’re sorry.”
“She won’t care, ’cause she said we were a couple of heathens.” Ty’s eyes were wide now, and earnest. “What’s that?”
“Oh boy.” How did a man resist a package like this? He’d gone all his life walking down his own path, alone and satisfied to be alone. Now there was this woman, this boy, this idiot dog. And they all had hooks in his heart.
“It’s somebody who doesn’t behave. Doesn’t sound like you and Elmer were behaving. Your mom was trying to work.”
“Brock’s mom doesn’t work.”
His own voice echoed back to him. His own childhood thoughts as he’d complained or sulked because his mother had been too busy to give him her undivided attention.
Too busy for me, are you? Well, I’m going to be too busy for you.
And how stupid was that?
Hell of a note, he thought, when a four-year-old’s tantrum causes an epiphany in a man past thirty.
“Brock’s mom isn’t your mom. Nobody’s more special than your own mom. Nobody in the world.” He held Ty close, stroking his hair while Elmer pranced over with a stick, obviously ready for a game.
“When you do something wrong, you have to make up for it.” He set Ty down, obliged Elmer by tossing the stick. “I bet that’s what your dad would say.”
“I don’t have a dad. He went away to heaven and he can’t ever come back.”
“That’s hard.” Doug crouched down. “That’s about the hardest thing there is. But you’ve got a really great mom. It said so on her shirt.”
“She’s mad at me. Grandma helped me buy the shirt for Mommy’s birthday, and Elmer jumped and made her spill coffee all over it. And when he did, she said a bad word. She said the S word.” Remembering it had his lips curving again. “She said it two times. Really loud.”
“Wow. She must’ve been pretty mad. But we can fix that. Want to fix it?”
Ty sniffed, wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. “Okay.”
Lana finished the call and was on the point of laying her head down on her desk for a minute, for one blissful minute, when she heard the door open.
She rose, tried to smooth down her hair, to draw some layer of composure around her.
Then Tyler came in, clutching a ragged bouquet of black-eyed Susans. “I’m sorry I did the bad stuff and said the mean things. Don’t be mad anymore.”
“Oh, Ty.” Weepy, she dropped to her knees to drag him close. “I’m not mad anymore. I’m sorry I spanked you. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I love you so much. I love you more than anything in the world.”
“I picked you flowers because you like them.”
“I do. I like them a lot.” She drew back. “I’m going to put them on my desk so I’ll see them when I’m working. Later on, I’ll call and see if it’s okay for you to go over to Brock’s.”
“I don’t want to go to Brock’s. I want to stay and help you. I’m going to pick up my toys, like I’m supposed to.”
“Are you?”
“Uh-huh. And I’m not going to kill the bad guys in the toilet anymore.”
“Okay.” She pressed her lips to his brow. “We’re okay. Go ahead and pick up your things, then I’ll put the Star Wars video on for you.”
“Okay! Come on, Elmer!” He raced off with the dog scrambling after him.
Lana pushed at her hair again, though it was hopeless, then got to her feet. Though her phone began to ring again, she ignored it and walked into the kitchen, where Doug was sipping a mug of coffee.
“I guess this was an educational experience. I’m sorry you walked in on all that.”
“You mean that I walked in on all that normal?”
“This isn’t our usual routine around here.”
“Doesn’t make it less normal.” He thought of his mother again, with some shame. “One person has to hold all the lines, occasionally some of the lines get snagged.”
“You can say that again.” She reached into a cupboard for a small green vase. “My own fault, too. Why send Ty to the sitter’s when he could be here with me? I’m his mother, aren’t I? So what if I’m trying to run an office out of here, and my assistant’s on vacation? Then when things get a little complicated, I take it out on a little boy and his brainless dog.”
“I’d say the little boy and his brainless dog played a big part.” He lifted a mangled shoe off the counter. “Which one of them chewed on this?”
She sighed as she filled the vase with water. “I haven’t even worn them yet. Damn dog nosed it right out of the shoe box while I was trying to deal with the flood in the bathroom.”
“You should’ve called a plumber.” He bit back a laugh when she bared her teeth at him. “Oh, you did. I’ll take a look at it for you.”
“It’s not your job to fix my toilet.”
“Then you don’t have to pay me.”
“Doug, I appreciate it, I really do. I appreciate your taking Ty out of the line of fire until I calmed down, and helping him pick the flowers, and offering to stand in as emergency plumber, but—”
“You don’t want anyone to help.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s certainly not that. I didn’t get involved with you so you could handle plumbing and other household crises. I don’t want you to think I expect that sort of thing just because we’re dating.”
“How about if you start expecting that sort of thing because I’m in love with you?”
The vase slid out of her fingers and hit the counter with a clunk. “What? What?”
“Happened about fifteen minutes ago, when I walked in and saw you.”
“Saw me.” Stupefied, she looked down at herself. “Saw this?”
“You’re not perfect. You’re damn close, but you’re not absolutely perfect. That’s a big relief to me. It’s intimidating to think about being with someone for the long haul—which is something I’ve never tried with anyone before, by the way—if she’s absolutely perfect. But she spills coffee all over herself and doesn’t get around to brushing her hair, yells at her kid when he deserves it, that’s worth thinking about.”
“I don’t know what to say.” What to think. What to do. “I’m not . . .”
“Ready,” he finished. “So, why don’t you just tell me where the plunger is, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“It’s, ah . . .” She waved a hand overhead. “Already up there. I was . . . I couldn’t . . . Doug.”
“That’s nice. It’s nice that you fumbled.” He caught her chin, kissed her. “It’s nice that you’re a little scared. Should give me time to figure out how to handle this.”
She managed a helpless gesture while bats bumped around in her stomach. “Let me know when you figure it out.”
“You’ll be the first.”
When he walked out, she braced a hand on the counter. Once again, she looked down at herself.
He’d fallen in love with her because of coffee stains and messy hair. Oh God, she realized as her heart fluttered, she was in trouble.
This time when the phone rang, she picked it up absently. “Hello. Yes.” She winced. “This is the law office of Lana Campbell. How may I help you?”
Minutes later, she was streaking upstairs where Doug, Ty and the dog all huddled around the toilet. “Out. Everybody out. I have to shower. Doug, forget everything I just said about not asking or expecting, because I’m about to take terrible advantage of you.”
He glanced at Ty, then at her. “In front of witnesses?”
“Ha ha. Please, I beg you, take Ty downstairs,
scoop up everything that doesn’t look like it belongs in the home or office of a brilliant attorney. Stuff it in a closet. I’ll worry about it later. Put the dog out back. Ty, you’re going to Brock’s after all.”
“But I don’t wanna—”
“Come on, pal.” Doug started the scooping with Ty. “We’ll have a man-to-man talk about the futility of arguing with a woman when she has a certain look in her eye.”
“I’ll be down in twenty minutes.” Lana slammed the door behind them and stripped.
She was jumping back out of the shower when Doug gave a cursory knock and walked in. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
“For God’s sake, I’m naked. Ty—”
“Is downstairs picking up his toys. And since I intend to be a fixture around here, he’ll get used to knowing I see you naked. What’s lit the fire, Lana?”
“Richard Carlyle.” She grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her body as she raced out and into the bedroom. “He just called from the airport. From Dulles. He wants a meeting. Damn it, I didn’t get the navy Escada back from the cleaners.”
“He’s coming here.”
“Yes, he’ll be here at noon. I have to pull myself together so I look like a cool, articulate professional instead of a raving lunatic. I have to contact Callie, go through the files again.” She wiggled into a bra and panties. “I need to make certain I have all salient information in my head and at my fingertips.”
She pulled out a gray pin-striped suit, put it back again. “No, looks like I’m trying too hard. Working temporarily out of the home, something just a little more relaxed, but still . . . Ah!”
She grabbed a slate-blue jacket. “This works. I have to call Jo—Brock’s mother—and see if he can go over there for a couple hours. Then I’m going to impose on you to drive him over.”
She tossed the outfit onto the bed, snatched up the portable phone and was already dialing as she dashed back to the bathroom to dry her hair.
“I’ll drive him over, but I’m coming back. I’m going to be part of this meeting.”
“That’s not up to me. That’s up to Callie.”
“No, it’s up to me,” he corrected, and stepped out again.
She was cool and composed again when she showed Callie and Jake into the living room. “I think it’s best to have the meeting here. The office I use upstairs is small, and this might work toward keeping him relaxed and friendly.”
“Let’s serve tea and cookies.”
“Callie.” Lana laid a hand on her arm. “I know you’re not happy with him, and you feel he’s been blocking you. But we need him on our side, or at least open to our side, if we’re to get his help in finding his father. Every other avenue we’ve tried has been a dead end.”
“A guy just doesn’t drop off the face of the earth.”
“I agree. And I’m sure we’ll find him, eventually, if we keep looking. But with Richard Carlyle’s help, we could find him sooner.”
“Why should he help me find his father, when my intention is to see the rat-bastard son of a bitch in jail for the rest of his life?”
“Probably not a good idea to bring that up.” Jake took a seat, stretched out his legs. “Or to call him a rat-bastard son of a bitch when talking to his son.” Jake jerked a shoulder at the glittering glare Callie aimed in his direction. “Just my take on it.”
“And mine. Sit down, Callie.” Lana gestured to a chair. “However hostile you might be feeling, it won’t do us any good to alienate Richard Carlyle. He and his father may be estranged, but they’re still father and son. The fact is, I have some concerns about the number of people here for this meeting. Carlyle asked to speak to me and my client. I don’t think he’s going to be happy to walk in and find himself this outnumbered.”
“That’ll be his problem.” Jake nodded at Doug.
Doug folded his arms, didn’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere. Carlyle feels a little uncomfortable, that’s too damn bad. My family’s felt uncomfortable for going on thirty years.”
“And if you take the sins-of-the-father attitude with him, he’s likely to blow us off.” But Lana knew when she was beating her head against rock. “I won’t ask you to go, but I’m going to insist you let me handle the meeting. He’s come here all the way from Atlanta. He’s come onto your turf,” she said to Callie. “Let’s give him some credit for it.”
“I’ll give him plenty of credit once he tells us where his rat-bastard, son-of-a-bitching father is. Just getting that out of my system.” She smiled fiercely at Jake.
At the sound of a car driving over gravel, Lana went to the window, nudged back the curtain. “I’d say this is our man. Doug, for God’s sake sit down and stop hulking.”
“Okay.” He went to the sofa, sat on the other side of Callie.
“Great.” She poked her elbows in his and Jake’s ribs. “Now I’ve got bookends. Let me breathe a little, would you? I think I’m a little past the point where I can be snatched again and put up for resale.”
“Stop bitching,” Doug said mildly. “This is what we call a show of solidarity.”
“Yeah, the hundred-and-twenty-pound infant, her long-lost brother and her ex-husband. Some show.”
Jake draped an arm behind her, over the back of her shoulders. “I’m enjoying it.”
Lana opened the door. Her voice was coolly polite. “Mr. Carlyle? I’m Lana Campbell.” She offered a hand. “I’d like to thank you for coming all this way to speak with us. Please come in. I hope you’ll excuse the informality. There was a fire in my office recently, and I’m working temporarily out of my home. I believe you’ve met both Dr. Dunbrook and Dr. Graystone.”
He looked, Callie thought, considerably fatigued. More than a short flight warranted. He also kept a firm grip on the handle of his briefcase.
“This is Douglas Cullen,” Lana began.
“I didn’t agree to speak with any of the Cullen family.” Pointedly, Richard turned away from Doug, stared down at Lana. “I specifically requested a meeting with you and your client. If those terms weren’t agreeable, you could have saved me considerable time and trouble by saying so.”
“As representative of the Cullen family, Mr. Cullen’s presence is not only reasonable but sensible. My client would, naturally, relay any outcome of this meeting to the Cullens.”
Lana spoke smoothly, and without giving an inch. “Having Mr. Cullen present will avoid any chance of miscommunication. I’m sure you haven’t come all this way to object to the inclusion of one of the members of Dr. Dunbrook’s biological family. You called the meeting, Mr. Carlyle. As I’m aware you’re a very busy man, I’m sure you had good reason to make this trip.”
“A very inconvenient trip. I want to make it clear, I won’t be interrogated.”
“If you’d sit down, I’d be happy to get you coffee, or something cold.”
“I won’t be here that long.” But he took a seat facing the sofa. “Dr. Dunbrook and her associate gained access to my office by claiming a family connection.”
“You assumed the family connection,” Callie corrected. “We said I had a connection to your father. Since he made a great deal of money from selling me, that connection stands.”
“Accusations like that are slanderous. If your attorney hasn’t warned you, then she’s incompetent. I checked on the documents you left in my office. While it’s true that the papers for the adoption by Elliot and Vivian Dunbrook of the infant girl were not properly filed—”
“They were fraudulent.”
“They were not properly filed. As your own attorney should know, this oversight might very well have been the fault of the court, a law clerk, an associate or assistant.”
“I hardly find that valid”—Lana took a seat as well—“as the petition for adoption and the final decree were both signed by all parties, bore what appears to be a forged court seal. And neither was filed in the appropriate docket.”
“And some overworked and underpaid clerk is probably responsible.”
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br /> “The exchange—fee for child—was made in your father’s office, Mr. Carlyle. In your father’s presence.”
“A number of infants were placed through my father’s practice. And as with any successful practice, many people worked on the cases he took. Whatever else my father was, he was a highly respected attorney. To accuse him of taking part in this sort of heinous baby bartering is ridiculous. I won’t see his reputation damaged, and by association my own. I will not see my mother nor my children harmed by gossip.”
“You’re not telling us anything you didn’t say in Atlanta.” Because he could feel her revving, Jake dipped his arm from the back of the couch, laid a restraining hand on Callie’s shoulder.