“Sheila said I coddle you.” The way he said it cut her deeply. He seemed so ashamed, and that wasn’t her father. He didn’t coddle her, either. Sheila had been doing a number on him, brainwashing him.
Diana tried to stay calm. “No one, not even Sheila, can take away the future that I’ve invested the last six years of my life obtaining. Despite the obstacles, I’m not giving up on my destiny.”
“You need to pick a new destiny then,” her father said. “It’s all been decided.” He stared at her long and hard. “You could have been killed in that explosion at Oxford. Then where would I be?”
It took only a moment for Diana to realize Harry wasn’t angry with her—he was extremely worried. She gave her dad a hug, and whispered, “Thank you for caring.”
“Come on, Diana,” he said gruffly. “I want to discuss where you’re going from here.”
“You know I’m going to Duke next Nothing about my plans have changed.” Then she stepped inside the living room and sank ankle deep in plush, white carpet
Maybe her plans hadn’t changed, but this room sure had. She wiggled her toes. The carpet hadn’t been there when she had left for Yale six weeks before. The room now smelled of fresh paint and looked slick with new furniture. She squinted at the brightness emanating from the windows with no draperies or blinds to prevent ultraviolet rays from coming in and bouncing from white wall to white wall, searing her eyeballs.
Gone were the comfortable soft, cotton floral couches, and the big blue-and-yellow-checkered chairs. Gone were the beautiful tongue-and-groove pine floors.
Then her gaze focused on the corner near the back window. Her table and chairs were gone, too. She looked around the room, and they were nowhere in sight. Don’t jump to conclusions, she told herself. Take three deep breaths. Good. Now lick your lips. You can’t carry on a conversation with dry lips. She licked them. Now ask your father. Go ahead. Don’t be afraid. “Dad, did you put them in the basement?”
“What are you talking about?” Red tinged his neck.
He knew what she was talking about and suddenly she started to shake. “My table and chairs. Did you move them down to our storage space?”
He shook his head.
Swallow, Diana. You can’t talk if your mouth is all dried out, either. She swallowed. “Dad, where are they?” She pointed to the corner.
Her father’s face was splotched with red and his lips moved, but no words came out Oh, God. No. It couldn’t be. If she had been the fainting type, she would’ve been out for the count
Instead, she made a conscious effort to remain calm and rational. She had been trained, at least in theory, not to form a conclusion until all the evidence was in. So she stood in the center of a white living room and stared at a white silk plant in a white plant holder that stood in the corner where her table and chairs should have been.
“Where are they?” Diana asked again.
“Those old things.” Harry’s voice cracked as his arms flagellated up and down. “You didn’t need those anymore.”
“I—didn’t—need—them.” She choked on her words, and the palms of her hands went as cold as her heart Fear. That’s what it was. Blue, frigid fear. “I’ll always need them.”
When she and her dad had moved from her childhood home into the penthouse at the Stratford-upon-the-Brazos condominiums, they’d agreed that’s where they’d put the tiny oak table and two chairs that Harry had made from scratch when she was only a toddler. She and her mother had had tea parties at that table and had colored pictures together there, too. That’s where she had learned how to write her name. The table and chairs weren’t just any table and chairs. They were special. All her memories of her mom were tied up in those small pieces of wooden furniture. They meant everything to her.
Her mother had died. Now the table and chairs were gone, too.
“Sheila,” Harry started. “She didn’t think they matched the rest of the room. She said you didn’t need them anymore and you’d be grateful to get rid of them.”
“You accepted that?” Diana couldn’t believe that he’d gone along with Sheila. That he’d do what wife number five had said to do without protecting what belonged to his own daughter. His only daughter.
“How was I supposed to know?” he said. “She’s a woman, you’re a woman. What do I know about women?”
“You should have known. They are—were—mine.”
“Sheila said—”
“Sheila said, Sheila said,” Diana mimicked. “You know, every time you get married again, your brain turns to mush.” Her dad was still in newlywed heaven. The old goat The randy old goat. Then she caught herself. Looking at her father, she finally noticed that he was as upset as she was. “I’m sorry. That remark was disrespectful and rude.”
“I deserved it. Your stepmother threw the whole set out while I was at work,” he confessed almost in a whisper, looking over his shoulder, making sure no one else was there.
“She’s not my stepmother.” Diana was too old to have stepmothers. But if she ever had the chance to be a stepmother—or even a mother…But that would never happen, because the only person she would ever consider having children with was Nick Logan, and she knew that if she ever spoke to him, the sky would fall, the earth would crack, the rivers would flood and lice would descend on the hair of every firstborn girl child for generations to come.
“If I had known, I would have stopped her. I didn’t know what she had done until the trash collectors had come and gone.”
“I believe you.” It didn’t matter. The damage was done, and the sick feeling wouldn’t go away. Yet she was still trying to comfort him when it was she who was feeling empty inside.
“When Sheila started her decorating, I stayed away from this part of the place. It’s so white.”
“Yes it is.” Diana pointed her finger, making a promise. “I’m going to write a book someday, Daddy. I’m going to call it the Stepmother-In-Training Manual. Maybe it will save someone else’s beloved furniture. And you have to admit, I’m an expert on stepmothers. It’ll be a bestseller.”
“Diana,” Harry said softly. “I am sorry. I want you to know I went to the dump and searched, but I couldn’t find the table and chairs. I brought a whole team from my construction crew over there. I did everything I could.”
“Oh, Daddy.” She went into this open arms, finding what comfort she could. These were the same arms that hugged her when she’d scraped her knees. The arms that had been there for her when she’d come home from a bad date.
Only she found no comfort in his arms this morning. Only an extreme sense of loss.
IT WAS SIX in the morning when Nick Logan opened the front door, and his sister, Cathy, greeted him with a cheerful, “Nicky! You wonderful brother you!” She launched her one-year-old daughter at him, then backed out into the hall again. “You weren’t sleeping, were you?”
“Been up for two hours already working on some new plans for the Castillo house.” Nick didn’t know who was more surprised about whose arms his niece had landed in. Jessica or him. From the look on the baby’s face, he had a feeling the shock effect was mutual.
“Aren’t computers wonderful things. You can work at work and you can work at home. You never have to not work, once you’re connected. Incredible.” Cathy came back in the apartment carrying an armload of baby junk. She dropped a car seat on the floor and leaned a portable crib against the wall. “And thank you in advance for helping me out.”
“What am I doing?” He held Jessica out at arm’s length, as her tiny legs started to kick in the air and her feet, encased in heavy leather walking shoes, scraped his chest and arms. “Cathy,” he called out, waiting until she stopped long enough to make eye contact with him. “Let me rephrase the question. What are you doing? Moving in?”
She only laughed then headed out the door again. Jessica’s face scrunched up, her nose started to turn red and her eyes crinkled together. “Caaaathy,” he warned sharply. “She’s going to start that cry
ing again.”
“No she won’t,” his sister said when she unloaded more baby things. “Jessie loves you.”
“Yeah. As much as she likes getting a shot.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, big brother. Both you and immunizations are good for her. You’re the most perfect brother a girl can have. I mean that, too.” Her voice caught.
“Don’t get all sentimental on me. You know, to all intents and purposes, I’m the only brother you have.” But he wasn’t perfect. Not by a long shot. All anyone had to do was ask his three older, perfect brothers, and his perfect parents, and they’d list in chronological order exactly how unperfect Nick was.
As far as Nick was concerned, the only thing his perfect family did to perfection was to be unforgiving. When Cathy had told them she was pregnant, they had thrown her out of their house, and their family. Banned from Logan-dom forever.
Nick had always been the rebel son. He alone had stood by her side, helped her through her pregnancy and had been there for both her and his niece afterward. Nick was the only close relative Cathy had besides Jessica. The squirming kid who right at this moment was getting ready to let out one of her famous, “I hate you, Uncle Nick” screams. He made a face at her and, just as she opened her mouth to let loose, he put her down on the marble floor. She wobbled on tiny feet for a second, then got down on all fours and crawled away as fast as she could.
“Isn’t she adorable,” Cathy gushed, stopping for a second, watching her daughter.
“A real stinker all right.”
“Is it her diaper? I just changed her.”
“No, she’s fine.” If you liked ungrateful, noisy toddlers. “What do you need, Cathy, besides storage space?”
Her bright smile disappeared and in its place was a worried frown. “Remember you told me once that if I ever needed anything you’d always be here for me?”
“Sure.” He had made the offer time and again. She’d never asked for help though.
“I need you.”
“I’ll get the checkbook, you fill in the figure. What’s mine is yours.”
“Not money.” Cathy scooped up Jessica and held her close to her chest before she sank down, cross-legged on the floor, holding the baby in her lap. She rubbed Jessica’s back, and looked at her brother with the most angelic smile on her face. “Nicky, the most wonderful, incredible thing happened today. I’d been praying, and finally—”
“What happened?” he asked, hoping Jessica’s noaccount father had finally shown up and was going to start taking some responsibility for his kid.
“L’Ouverture Parfum’s finally called. They want to buy L’Amour.”
“Hey, that’s great.” He kneeled in front of her and ruffled her bangs the way he used to do when they were kids. “You deserve this.”
She’d been trying, for the last couple of years, to generate interest from L’Ouverture Parfum for the fragrances she’d been creating and selling to local gift shops. She had a good business, with her signature perfumes, colognes, soaps and other products. However, they both knew that having L’Ouverture show interest in purchasing even one of her fragrances could set her and Jessica up for life.
“Thank you. I’m thrilled. I only hope when they buy L’Amour, they’re interested in a few others from my collections, too.”
“You’re not going to sell them the Nicholas X formula, are you?” After Jessica was born, Cathy had thanked him for his help by creating Nicholas X. She had come up with a shaving soap, aftershave, cologne and deodorant that was all his own.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good, because that stuff drives women wild. If all the men were wearing it, too, no work would ever get done.”
She batted at his arm. “You’re crazy.”
“I’m serious. You have no idea what my life has been like since you gave me my own aftershave. I can’t keep the women away.”
“You couldn’t keep them away before I created Nicholas X” She winked at him. “Anyway, big brother, that formula’s all yours.”
“That reminds me,” he said. “I’m on the last of the aftershave. So if you don’t want me to have to resort to my old standby—” he paused “—soap and water, which will put me right back in the ranks of the he-who-is-ignored-by-women group of guys, would you bring some with you the next time you’re over here.”
“I will as soon as I get back from Paris.”
“You’re going to Paris? All alone?”
“Of course.” She shook her finger at him. “Why? Did you think I needed my mommy and daddy to hold my dainty little hand?”
“Point taken.” He knew Cathy was an adult She had the baby to prove it She was a businesswoman. She had obtained a good deal of success, and she was still climbing the ladder. Nick was proud of her. Still, she was his little sister, and she’d always be his little sister. Sometimes he’d forget that she was all grown up. “I know you don’t need Mom and Dad to travel with you.”
“Good thing. It’s not like they know I’m alive.” The hurt still tinged her voice. “Or Jessica.”
“Forget them.”
“Okay. They’ve forgotten us, we’ll forget them.” This time she grinned at him. A grin that didn’t reach her eyes. Neither one would ever forget what their parents had done. “Can you believe the perfume company executives want to meet me in person. They’ve sent me a ticket, a driver, everything.”
“Sure I can believe it” He said the words quietly, meaning every one. “Those people want to meet in person the woman who makes the stuff that makes guys like me smell so good.”
“I know. Oh, Nicky, I don’t know how I can thank you for taking care of Jessica while I’m away.”
“I’m not taking care of Jessica. I don’t remember ever saying I’d take care of her.” He stood, and slowly backed away from Cathy. “Where’d you ever get a crazy idea like that?”
“From you. Who else? You told me if I ever needed anything, you’d do it. I need you now.”
“I meant money. If you needed money.” Starting to panic, he backed up until he hit the wall, which of course made Jessica scream again. “I can’t take care of her, the kid hates me. Whenever she’s near me, she starts screaming.”
“You scared her, that’s all. Anyway, that was only a phase.”
“A phase that’s lasted from the time she was born? I don’t think so. Besides, I don’t know a thing about babies.”
“Neither did I when I first had her. But I managed just fine. So will you. Besides, I’m leaving you with all kinds of instructions. And I’ll only be gone a couple of days. I’ll be back before she even knows I’m gone.”
“Cathy, I have a bad feeling about this whole thing. It’s not a good idea.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and paced. This would teach him. The next time he offered to help with anything, he would have to be more specific about the definition of anything.
Cathy stood up and placed Jessica in a contraption that had a canvas seat and a small hula hoop soldered on two pairs of in-line skates. “This is a walker,” she said. “Don’t let her climb out of it, because if she does, she’ll fall down and crack her head open. Not a pretty picture, I can tell you.”
Jessica took off sliding down the hallway in her walker. “The first thing I’m buying her is a helmet,” Nick said. “And me some earplugs.”
“That’s a fabulous idea. See, you’re doing well already.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Now, pay attention to my instructions.”
“I’m paying attention.”
“Okay, this is a box of diapers. The box says Diapers and even has a picture to go with the words, so you shouldn’t have any problem finding them.”
His eyelids narrowed. “Cathy,” he warned. “I know how to change a diaper.” He never had, but he’d seen her do it, and it looked easy enough.
She gave him a big smile. “See how simple it is? Everything is numbered and labeled. You’re going to have so much fun. This is a car seat. And this is a…”
He listened to Cathy with half an ear. From down the hallway Jessica had stopped and looked at him. Nick would swear by the expression on her face, the baby was saying, “Get ready, Uncle Nicky, I’m going to make your life hell.”
2
THREE HOURS LATER, long after Cathy had gone, Jessica had demonstrated just how much hell she could raise.
He had left her to herself, in his bedroom, rolling around in her walker. He thought she’d be safe. He was within earshot, so he could hear her in case she started screaming in pain instead of anger. Plus the master bath was attached to the bedroom. He only had to step out of the dressing area where he was shaving, and he’d be right back in his bedroom, where he could see her.
He’d been right. She was very safe. Instead of screaming, she was making soft, talking noises that no one could possibly understand. When he peeked into the room the first time, his face lathered with Cathy’s shaving soap, she was quietly roaming around in her walker, studying all his belongings. She sniffed a few times, then turned her head when she realized he was in the room. She gave him that evil-eyed glare before turning away, ignoring him. Nick took that to be a positive step in their relationship. No crying.
He went back to the sink to finish shaving. The sound of paper ripping didn’t register right away, but when it did, he fast-tracked back into the bedroom. “Jessica, no,” he shouted as he pulled paper out of her hands, and some out of her mouth. She screamed at him, which made his nerve endings stand at attention. No big deal.
Until he noticed what he held in his hands. His complete collection of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues. She had somehow rolled herself to his nightstand, opened the door to the cabinet and pulled out the magazines, one at a time.
She screamed louder, sticking her tongue out at him. Nick thought for a brief moment that he should let her finish eating the paper, but then he remembered that the little screaming tyrant had already cost him half the salary he would have paid one of his construction workers, when she was born. No way was she going to be eating magazine print. He was going to protect his investment, if nothing else.
Kidnapped / I Got You Babe Page 18