Receptionist Under Cover

by C. J. Carmichael

  He instantly flashed back to the day he and Nadine had gone skiing at Lake Louise. Those two stolen hours of pure pleasure. “Standing on the top of a mountain with the sun beating on my back and a hill of powder in front of me.” He stopped there, not adding the fact that she was with him. Her presence had only been incidental, anyway.

  “Nice.” She smiled then glanced at the next question. “What is your—”

  “Hold on.” He remembered the feeling he had at the end of their last trip. That she knew so much about him, and he so little about her. That had turned out to be so true.

  It was time to even the scales.

  “What’s your idea of perfect happiness?”

  She only paused for a second to think. “Doing something that helps another human being, without worrying about a personal reward.”

  “Really?”

  She hesitated, then said, “That case I told you about the other day? A young man was conning elderly people—mostly women—out of thousands of dollars. I gathered enough evidence for the police to arrest him. Not only that, but I managed to—recover—the money he’d stolen from one of the women.”

  He was floored. “That’s amazing.”

  “It felt fantastic, Patrick. It really did.”

  He stared at her, transfixed as much by her smile, as by her story. When he’d found out about her heritage and her wealth and her formal job title, he’d tried to convince himself that she was just an heiress amusing herself by pretending to be a private detective.

  But that had been unfair. She did care about her job. She definitely cared about the people she worked for. And she worked hard.

  She’d lied to him about some pretty important facts, but at heart she was the same sweet, lovely person he’d thought she was.

  And he was dangerously close to falling in love with her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THEY ARRIVED AT KICKING HORSE Resort shortly after seven in the evening. They’d driven through the avalanche zone without incident this time. Patrick’s growly mood had softened after the Proust Questionnaire and now Nadine guessed that his silence was due only to the proximity of his son and their upcoming meeting.

  While he set about registering for their rooms and collecting the door keys, she inquired with the concierge after Stephen. There was a separate residence for employees who lived on-site. She was told he might be there, or he might have gone into the town of Golden for the evening.

  She was just concluding that it would be easier and more practical to set up a meeting in the morning, when three young men entered the lodge. They were chatting easily, like friends who were comfortable together and knew one another well. And they were dressed in street clothes, not ski gear, so it was easy to spot Stephen with his red hair and his mother’s high cheekbones.

  He spied her right away, too, and from the flush that immediately stained his face, she knew he’d remembered her.

  He stopped where he was. “I need to check something,” he said to his buddies. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  The other guys, one taller, one stouter, sensed nothing amiss and continued on their way through the lobby, their conversation picking up where it had left off, making plans for which room they would meet in to drink beers and hang out.

  Stephen took a few steps in her direction. He hadn’t spotted Patrick, who was speaking to a desk clerk right behind him, and so far Patrick hadn’t seen him, either.

  “You’re back,” Stephen said.

  “I was hoping for a proper introduction this time.” She held out her hand. “I’m Nadine Kimble, a private investigator from New York City.”

  He took a deep breath, then accepted the handshake. “I guess you’ve already figured out, I’m Stephen Stone.”

  At the sound of that name, Patrick turned. His gaze met Stephen’s. The boy seemed to know who he was. Maybe he’d checked his father’s name on the Web and found the author photos. Or maybe it was instinct.

  Patrick said something quick to the clerk then walked toward them. He had his eyes on Stephen and nothing else. He went right up to him and grasped the boy by the shoulders.

  With his gaze locked on Stephen’s, he spoke in a voice filled with both wonder and certainty. “You’re my son.”

  And his eyes, and Stephen’s, filled with tears.

  “THIS IS NO PLACE FOR A PROPER conversation,” Patrick said, gathering his composure and taking charge of the situation. “Let’s go to the lounge and have a drink.”

  “The one upstairs is quieter,” Stephen offered.

  “I think I’ll head to my room first and freshen up,” Nadine said.

  She was being diplomatic, Patrick suspected. Trying to give them some time alone. But he wanted her with him. It would take the two of them to sort this mess out. “Why don’t you come along and order something to eat. It’s been a long time since that sandwich in Canmore.”

  She studied his face, then nodded. “Okay.”

  They found a table near the back of the room, far from the jazz pianist who was performing standards to a group of about fifteen customers.

  During the amount of time it took to get settled in their seats, Stephen’s body language had changed. He slouched into a chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Patrick realized what had happened.

  They’d caught him off guard in the lobby, but he’d had time to lock his defenses back into place.

  Patrick prayed for inspiration to say the right thing. Because this was big. This was as big as it got. Meeting that kid in Lake Louise had been a joke. He’d felt nothing because there was nothing to feel.

  But all it had taken was one look at Stephen to know.

  What got to him the most were the eyes. Stephen had Patrick’s mother’s eyes. Pale green and watchful. Windows to the soul? If so, Patrick could see hurt, as well as anger. Again he called upon his own memories as a boy who’d been disappointed by his father.

  Those wounds, the deep, old kind, took time to heal.

  He sensed Nadine watching him and turned. She gave him an encouraging smile and her intent gaze seemed to assure him that he was capable of handling this situation.

  Stephen ended up being the first to speak. “So what’s the story? Did Zach blow it or something?”

  “Is that the name of the kid who impersonated you?”

  Stephen twisted his head in an ambiguous motion.

  “’Cause that was some nasty trick.”

  “Hey. What do you expect, showing up out of the blue with a private investigator?” He turned to Nadine. “No offense. You seem like a nice lady.”

  “Finding you wasn’t easy, Stephen,” she said. “That’s why your father hired our agency to help him.”

  “Well, maybe I didn’t want to be found. Ever think of that?”

  Patrick had expected the boy to be angry. What he hadn’t expected was that it would cause him so much pain to see his son suffering.

  Stephen was right. What did he need with a father at this age? He’d been better off the way he was. Patrick started to stand, but Nadine put her hand over his.

  “Now that you two are finally in the same room, why don’t you at least hear each other out? This is what your mother wanted, after all.”

  Stephen fixed his pale eyes on Patrick. “Is that why you’re here? Because she died?”

  “I came because of her letter, yes. And I came because I wanted a chance to tell you—” His voice broke. Embarrassed, he started again, “To tell you that I’m here if you need anything. A place to crash. Help with university fees. Whatever.”

  “Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m an adult now. I don’t need a father anymore.”

  “But it might have been nice to have one around when you were growing up, huh?”

  Stephen cast his gaze down. “Whatever.”

  “For what it’s worth, I wish I’d been able to be there for you from the beginning.”

  Stephen was silent for a long time before he said, “Why weren’t you?”
<
br />   The words and the hurt behind them made Patrick catch his breath. He thought back to all the times his father had been absent for him, but present for his half siblings. The last thing he wanted was for Stephen to have that same unwanted feeling.

  “I didn’t know you existed.”

  “Like hell you didn’t.”

  Patrick glanced at Nadine and saw that she seemed puzzled, too. “Didn’t your mother explain?”

  “She said you were dead.”

  “What about in her letter?”

  Silence.

  Patrick muttered a curse. “I take it Zach never sent it to you. Did he tell you anything about our meeting?”

  “Not much. He was pretty pissed about his hair. Said I owed him big-time.”

  That stupid dye job shouldn’t have fooled him for a minute, Patrick realized now. “His hair will grow out. There are more important things at stake here.”

  “Like…?”

  “Let me start at the beginning. About a month after your mother passed away, I came home from a trip to Alaska. In the mail I found a package with a return address from your apartment in Chelsea. Inside were two letters. One for me. One for you.”

  Stephen shifted forward, suddenly listening intently.

  “In her letter, June told me that after we broke up she found out she was pregnant. She said she decided not to tell me and to raise the child—you—on her own.”

  “That’s not what she told me.”

  Patrick shrugged. “Why would she lie now? She left it up to me to decide whether to be a part of your life. But if I did decide to look you up, then she wanted me to give you a letter she’d written to you.”

  “And you gave it to Zach?”

  Patrick nodded.

  Stephen swore. “He called me after your meeting and didn’t say a damn word about it.”

  “Have you seen Zach since then?” Nadine asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Maybe you should call him.”

  “You think I haven’t tried? He hasn’t returned any of my calls or text messages.”

  “Maybe because he didn’t want you to know he was hitting your father up for money.”

  “What?” Stephen planted his hands on the table, his expression dumbfounded.

  At least he hadn’t been part of that plan, Patrick was relieved to find out. “He said something about needing money for a business. But I guess that won’t be happening now.”

  “What a jerk.”

  Patrick couldn’t agree more.

  “Look, I apologize for that scam I pulled. But I still say all this is a waste of time. You say you’re my father, and I guess that’s the truth. But to me you’re a stranger.”

  Was that really true? Did Stephen not feel any sort of connection between them? Patrick took a deep breath. He’d never thought this was going to be easy.

  “Maybe if we got to know one another, it wouldn’t feel so weird. Any chance you could get time off tomorrow and we could hit the hills?”

  “No.”

  Well, that was pretty clear.

  “Sorry, but this long-lost father routine is just…I don’t know. Too little, too late.”

  Patrick felt at a loss as to what to try next. He’d already explained that he hadn’t known he had a son. What else could he say?

  At the very least, he needed to establish a route of communication. He dug out a business card from his wallet. “You may change your mind one day. Here’s my phone number, address and e-mail.”

  Stephen shoved the card into his pocket without looking at it. In a jerky motion, he got up from his chair.

  Patrick and Nadine stood, too.

  “If you ever need a plane ticket back to New York, let me know. I’ve got an extra bedroom, if you’d like a place to hang in the city for a while.”

  “I’ve signed up to work until April.”

  “Your aunt says you’re registered for college in the fall. I imagine the tuition’s pretty steep.”

  “I’m planning on saving my money.”

  The kid was stubborn and independent, and Patrick felt oddly proud about that. “I’d be glad to help anyway.”

  Stephen shrugged. “I’ve got to get going. It was—interesting to meet you.”

  Patrick nodded. There were no words to describe this moment. His heart ached to the bursting point, yet he couldn’t come up with any ideas to stop his son from walking back out of his life.

  “ARE YOU OKAY?”

  Patrick realized he was still standing, and sat down.

  “That must have been so tough.” Nadine’s voice was tender.

  “I can’t believe I was fooled by Zach.”

  “That’s easier to say once you’ve met the real Stephen.”

  “But even at the time I wondered why I didn’t feel anything.” He’d sure as hell felt something this time. God, he was shaking.

  Nadine had noticed, too. She took his hand and held it between hers.

  “June never should have written those letters,” Patrick said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “What was the point? Look at all the pain this has caused Stephen. He doesn’t need this crap, especially not now when he’s still in mourning for his mother.”

  “I think it’s a good thing that he reacted so emotionally.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “It shows that he has a big heart. That he cares. In the long run, that will play to your advantage. I honestly believe that one day Stephen will contact you. That he’ll want you to be a part of his life.”

  Patrick’s throat thickened with an unfamiliar emotion. He knew nothing about kids, only what he could remember from when he was that age. He’d been thrown into this too late and had nothing to offer Stephen, except what he’d promised.

  He’d help with his education. He’d be someone to call in an emergency.

  He hoped Stephen would eventually accept that. And it would be enough.

  “I think we could use a few drinks over here.” He signaled to the waiter. When he ordered Scotch, Nadine nodded. “Make that two.”

  “I’ve never seen you drink anything but wine or champagne.”

  “It’s been a tough couple of days.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. “Maybe they’ve been tougher than they needed to be.”

  “Oh?”

  He’d been so angry at her before, but now all of that was gone. The roller-coaster journey of finding Stephen—he couldn’t imagine having shared it with anyone else. When their drinks were served, he touched his glass to hers.

  “Thank you for finding him. Not once, but twice. And being here. I guess I’m damn lucky Nathan wasn’t in the day I showed up at your office.”

  “Why do you say Nathan, specifically? What if Lindsay had been available?”

  “I only mentioned Nathan because of June’s letter. She wrote that if I had trouble tracking down Stephen to call Nathan Fisher.”

  “Funny that she mentioned Nathan specifically.”

  “I suppose. Not that it matters, does it?”

  “Probably not.”

  “I’m just glad it worked out the way it did. That’s all I’m saying.”

  She looked at him solemnly. “Does this mean that you’re not upset about my deception anymore?”

  He nodded. It was true. The last of his resentment toward her had slipped away, replaced by deeper, more profound emotions. He’d met his son for the first time today.

  Hell. What else could matter in the face of that?

  Patrick finished his drink, then raised his hand to order another. His head was still whirling from too much input, and not enough time to process.

  Sort of like bungee jumping.

  “We still haven’t eaten,” Nadine reminded him gently. “I think some food would be a good idea.”

  So they ordered an appetizer platter to share, as well as another round of Scotch. Nadine asked him about his Alaska book and as he talked about a subject that was both familiar and important
to him, he gradually lost the free-falling sensation.

  The food helped, too. At any rate, his hands were steady again.

  “You okay to head up to our rooms now?”

  With her comment he realized they were the only guests left in the lounge. Their waiter was chatting with the bartender, and the two of them looked pointedly in their direction.

  He settled the bill, then they headed to their rooms. This time they were across the hall from one another. He unlocked Nadine’s door for her, then passed her the key.

  If memories crossed her mind from the night when they had meant to say good-night, but hadn’t, she didn’t give any sign.

  Her expression as she looked at him was one of simple concern. “You going to be able to sleep?”

  “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. Then, impulsively, he asked, “Want to watch a movie?”

  She hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  He couldn’t blame her for her caution. Maybe if they’d moved more slowly from the beginning…but he couldn’t bring himself to regret what had happened at Emerald Lake Lodge. The stuff that had happened later, yes. But not their night together.

  He wanted her now as much as he had wanted her then. But even stronger than his desire, was his need to be close to her.

  “Only a movie,” he promised. “No ulterior motives. I need to give the emotions a chance to settle down.”

  That seemed to sway her. “Okay. Come on in, and we’ll see what appeals.”

  Her room had a small seating area, with a sofa facing a cabinet that housed both a TV and a minibar. He picked up the remote control and read out movie titles, while she opened a bottle of water and poured two glasses.

  She nixed a couple of his movie suggestions, then said yes to a comedy with Jim Carrey. Once the movie had started, she sat next to him, leaving a healthy foot of space between them.

  The movie was enjoyable, with several good laughs, yet not for a second did Patrick lose his awareness of how close she was to him.

  The urge to touch her was very strong. He wanted to cradle an arm around her, feel her head resting against his chest.

  But he had made a promise that he intended to keep.