Lane’s mouth quirked in annoyance. “It’s a tabloid newspaper. Have you read them? Lots of their facts are wrong. But to answer your question, a reporter rang me a couple of days ago wanting a quote. He told me he saw Jamie playing rugby. According to him, he’d seen me play when I was the same age. You’ve seen the family likeness.”
Another lightning flash of pain seared past Kate’s ribs when she moved. She stilled. “So you think the reporter saw Jamie and started digging?”
“Yeah. We’ll probably never know what deep, dark hole they dredged their facts from. Just like we’ll never know who was in the photo Nicole showed Jamie.” Lane glared at the other man. “It can’t have been Gerald because Jamie didn’t recognize him.”
“You didn’t try hard enough,” Gerald insisted.
“Give me a break! You’ve no idea what it was like, how I feel.” Lane sent a disgusted look in Kate’s direction. “I’ve had enough. I’m going home. Are you and Jamie coming?”
“I—”
“I’ll stay with Katie,” Gerald said. “You go ahead.”
“Fine.” Lane stalked from the room without a backward glance.
The slam of the door said it all.
Chapter Nineteen
“You love him.” Gerald’s quiet statement hung between them.
“You always were too perceptive for your own good.” Kate avoided his gaze.
He squatted beside her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder to claim her attention. “Are you going to let him walk away without even trying to fight? He’s a good man.”
Kate’s brows shot halfway to her hairline. “You tried to smash his face to pulp,” she pointed out tartly.
“That was when I thought he’d beat you. Go after him.”
“I’m not going to do anything.” Gerald didn’t seem to see the ironic twist here. How could she hope to fight memories of her sister? She’d watched Lane’s face. Seen his reaction. He’d felt something for Nicole, and her sister had ripped his heart out without even giving him a chance to say what he might want from the fledgling relationship. Why would he want anything to do with another Alexander? From where she sat, it looked as if he were still hung up on Nicole or at least had issues to work through.
What about Jamie? a small voice whispered slyly. Kate froze, every shred of confidence dissipating until panic took over. She’d come to think of Lane as Jamie’s father. Surely, he wouldn’t take Jamie from her? Not now. No! He wouldn’t, she thought, the panic easing a notch. She knew him better now.
“Oh God, Gerald. What am I going to do?”
“I’ve told you what to do. Go after him. Tell him you love him.”
“I…no.” She couldn’t lay her heart down as Gerald suggested, not after seeing the strained emotions on Lane’s face when he spoke of Nicole. Not today. She needed time to regroup, to think of a plan.
“You always were pigheaded unless Steve became involved. With him you were different. Heck, Nicole acted the same. Stubborn. Obstinate. Mulish.” Gerald obviously didn’t agree with her delaying tactics.
“Do tell,” Kate said icily.
Gerald flung himself down beside Kate on the aging couch, making her flinch in pain.
“Sorry,” he said. “I forgot you were just out of hospital because there’s nothing wrong with your mind or your quick tongue. Arguing with you is like arguing with Nicole. I pleaded with her to name the father of her baby. She refused. Categorically. She told me she’d contacted him, but he wasn’t interested in being a father. Nicole said it didn’t matter. Her baby would never lack for love. She was determined to go through with her pregnancy.” He shook his head as he let the memories roll over him. “Stubborn. Even when she knew she would die, she refused to confirm the identity of Jamie’s father, although I had my suspicions.” Gerald blinked to clear the moisture from his eyes. “If only the treatment had worked.”
“You loved her too,” Kate said, and she wondered why she hadn’t recognized this earlier.
“Yeah. Nicole was easy to love. I wanted to marry her but she refused, saying she loved me too much to burden me with a sick wife.” He shook his head. “She loved me like a brother. I knew of course. It didn’t matter at the time. In hindsight, I know she was right, but it didn’t make her final decision easier.”
Kate swiped the back of her hand over her damp cheeks. “We’re a pair.”
The comfortable silence between the two friends lasted until Jamie sprinted into the room.
“Where’s Lane?” he asked.
“Lane’s gone home,” Kate replied.
Jamie frowned. “Aren’t we going to stay with Lane tonight? Where are you going to sleep?”
Her bedroom, although clean, remained rather sparse on the furniture front. Kate and Lane had thrown her mattress out in the end because it appeared beyond saving. She hadn’t found time to replace her mattress or bedroom furniture and had purchased only a few basic clothing items. “I forgot about that,” Kate muttered.
“A problem?”
“The house was vandalized during a break-in. My bedroom is barely habitable. I suppose I could sleep on the couch.”
“Don’t you have a spare bedroom? You used to.”
“When I set up in business for myself I converted the two spare bedrooms into an office and a treatment room.” Kate frowned, not ready to face Lane yet until she’d thought things through. The couch would do as a bed for one night.
Gerald smiled. “You could always come and stay at home.”
“Gerald, all your family are at home. Your parents’ house must be bursting at the seams. The couch is fine.”
“Speaking of home, I’d better fly. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
Kate forced a confident smile to her face. “What is it with you men? I’m not helpless. Jamie is here if I need anything.”
Still Gerald hesitated.
“Go!” Kate insisted. “I have your phone number if I need help.”
Gerald folded. “I’ll drop in again tomorrow to see how you are.” He brushed a kiss on her temple. “It’s good to see you, Kate.”
Her smile came easier this time. “It’s good to see you too.”
* * * * *
“Jamie! Answer the door,” Kate hollered in exasperation early the next day. She gripped the edge of the kitchen counter with one hand and balanced a carton of milk in the other. Biting her lip, she limped to the kitchen table and slumped onto a wooden chair.
Where were those damn pain killers? She rifled through the mess on the table but couldn’t find them. Kate twisted in her chair and groaned when she spied the bottle of white pills sitting by the fridge, on the other side of the room. The throb in her chest escalated at the mere thought of making a return journey.
“Jamie.” Kate rested her forehead on her upturned palms and waited for him to arrive.
“What’s all the noise about?” an amused male voice asked. “Jamie’s outside.”
Kate’s head snapped up, her sudden move sending a jolt of pain skipping through her chest. The sight of Lane didn’t help matters. Tall. Dark. An appealing citrus scent told her he’d recently showered. “Please, I need my painkillers. Over there,” she said with a vague wave of her left hand.
Lane returned to her side in an instant and produced two white pills plus a glass of water. He noticed she swallowed the large tablets with barely a whimper.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I shouldn’t have left you alone yesterday,” he apologized. Kate was so independent. It would never occur to her to ask for help. The pain etched on her face made guilt surface. He skimmed his hand over her shoulder in mute apology. “I should have stayed but I was angry. I needed to think about Nicole. Jamie. You.”
“I’m glad you’re here. There’s something I wanted to—”
The doorbell interrupted Kate mid-sentence.
“I’ll get it,” Lane said.
“Thanks.” Kate muttered under her breath. God had a warped sense of humor. Every time she tried to talk to Lane, someone butted in.
Lane ushered Detective Harwood into the kitchen.
“I’m glad you’re both here,” she said. “We searched Caryn Lucas’ office and home yesterday.” She paused to focus her attention on Lane. “Were you aware of Ms. Lucas’ interest in you?”
“She was my agent, a friend. Nothing more.”
“Her bedroom walls were covered with photographs of you. She kept scrapbooks full of clippings about you.”
“You’re kidding!” Lane said. The thought made him uncomfortable. Despite the seriousness of her expression, the detective had to be exaggerating.
“We interviewed her mother, but Mrs. Lucas didn’t realize the extent of her fixation with you either.”
Lane studied Detective Harwood’s somber face. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“No.”
“I had no idea. Actually, I didn’t realize she lived with her mother. I’m sure she told me her mother died when she was a child. We always met at the office or my apartment.”
Detective Harwood gave a bark of laughter. “Her mother is very much alive and more than a bit upset at her daughter’s antics.”
“Didn’t her mother notice the shrine in her bedroom?” Kate asked. “I try to respect Jamie’s privacy, but I always know what he’s doing.”
“Mrs. Lucas is partially handicapped and unable to climb the stairs in the house. She has a suite of rooms downstairs. Caryn used the upper rooms.”
“What will happen to Caryn?” Lane asked.
“Ms. Lucas has been charged with assault and attempted murder and will go to trial pending a psychiatric report. I interviewed her this morning. Were you aware she was instrumental in running off several of your girlfriends?”
Lane caught Kate’s concerned expression when she said, “That’s what she told me too. In fact, she gloated about her success rate.”
Lane sat and was lucky enough to find a chair to break his fall. The way things were going today, he wouldn’t have been surprised to end up flat on the floor. Shock rippled through him with each new revelation. That explained so many puzzling things in the relationship department. All this time Caryn had worked behind the scenes, managing his personal life as well as business matters.
Time rolled away as memories surfaced. First, there was Nicole. In all fairness, he couldn’t blame the end of the relationship on Caryn. But there were others. He’d met Jan in England when he’d played league for Wigan. Now that he thought about it, Caryn had visited a few days before Jan had suddenly backed away from him with what he had thought were feeble excuses at the time. And then there was Rachel in Australia. Rachel had sold a story to the newspapers, but the behavior had seemed out of character and had puzzled him. Caryn’s doing again, he supposed. Of all the twisted… His own agent.
“Why didn’t anyone fight back?” he demanded. Surely, he wasn’t so unapproachable. “They could have told me the truth. I could have put a stop to Caryn much earlier without anyone getting hurt.”
“Miss Alexander did fight back,” Detective Harwood remarked. Approval underlined her words.
Yes, Kate had fought back but Caryn nearly killed her in the process. “But look at the cost.” Lane surveyed the bandages visible under Kate’s shirt and shuddered inwardly. The thought of losing Kate… “Ah, Kate. This is my fault. It’s a wonder you’re still speaking to me.”
“Caryn Lucas did this to me, Lane. Not you. She had the knife. And how could I tell you anything when I didn’t realize Caryn was stalking me. I told you about the threatening notes and the pranks. You knew as much as I did.”
Lane thought back to his last meeting with Caryn when they had discussed the press release—the bombshell he had carelessly dropped without knowing. “You don’t understand. Caryn asked me how interested I was in you and I told her very serious. I placed you in danger.” Caryn had understood exactly what he meant and had reacted immediately.
He and Kate stared at each other and he leaned toward her before checking the movement. He wanted to hold her, tell her how much he loved her, but it would have to wait until Detective Harwood left. Their relationship had suffered from far too much publicity. When he asked Kate to marry him, he intended to do it without an audience. He clutched at the small box in his pocket, rubbing his fingers over the red velvet like a talisman.
Detective Harwood broke the taut silence with an apologetic cough. “The main reason I dropped in to see you both,” the Detective said. “These were found in Caryn’s bedroom.” She pulled several envelopes from the inside pocket of her blue uniform jacket. “They are addressed to you, Mr. Gerrard.”
Lane accepted the envelopes, a frown on his face. “What are they?” The plain white envelopes gave no clue, and he didn’t recognize the writing.
“I think it would be best if you read the letters yourself. Oh, and while I think of it. We found the missing gnome in Caryn’s room. Mrs. Jaffe was ecstatic to have Fredrika returned. I’ll see myself out,” she murmured.
“Go ahead and read the letters,” Kate encouraged. “I’ll make some coffee.”
“You stay right there,” Lane said. “I’ll make the coffee then I’ll read the letters.”
“But they must be important if Detective Harwood came out of her way to deliver them.”
“For goodness sake, Kate. Can’t you even let me make you a cup of coffee without protesting? I want to help. Accepting help doesn’t make you dependent or turn you into a clinging vine. I don’t know why you’re so afraid.”
For a moment, Kate appeared stricken and her gaze darted to her feet. Lane felt like a playground bully. He rose, intending to comfort her, to apologize again, but she looked up, a faint smile on her lips.
“There are times when I have to remind myself you are nothing like Steve. I had to fight so hard for my independence it’s become habit not to let anyone help. I’m sorry, Lane. I would love a cup of coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Lane hurried to make the coffee then joined Kate at the table. There was something about Detective Harwood’s face when she’d handed the letters over that made him curious about the contents. He stared at the unfamiliar writing on the face of the envelope before extracting the two sheets from inside. Quickly, he scanned the contents.
“It’s from Nicole,” he said hoarsely. He heard Kate’s gasp but continued reading the letter.
“What does it say?” Kate demanded.
Lane stopped reading. The bossy insistence in her voice made him smile, and the look on her face when she realized she had no right to read the letters, if he didn’t want her to, seemed priceless.
“Sorry.” The color in her face deepened under his steady gaze.
“I’ll read it out loud,” Lane said, and he began to read despite her halfhearted protest.
“Dear Lane. Walking away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I had to stop myself from reaching out, touching you, waking you—”
“Are you sure you want to read this letter aloud?” Kate said, her discomfort at hearing about their short relationship showing clearly in her voice. “It sounds, ah…private.”
Lane continued as though she’d never spoken. “But I forced myself to leave. If only things were different. Under different circumstances I’d have held you tight and never let go. I didn’t even intend to contact you, but I digress. I think it best to start at the beginning.
“For several months, I haven’t felt well and last week I visited my doctor. He sent me for tests, but I was aware after my initial visit the outcome wouldn’t be favorable. I didn’t want to tell my family or friends until I knew for sure, but they finally diagnosed cancer. I heard a few weeks ago and I’ll admit, I’m frightened. Who wouldn’t be? At first there was fury. I shouted and railed at God and generally felt sorry for myself. My doctor assured me I could live for many more years with treatment. A diagnosis isn’t always the end of life. He assured me my fate was not as bad as I surmised.
“There’s no easy way to tell you this so I’ll b
e blunt. I’m pregnant, Lane, with your child. Yes, even though we took precautions I’m pregnant. After the initial shock, I began to believe it was a miracle. I’m excited as I wait for the arrival of my baby even though I know having a baby will bring complications. My doctor wants me to abort so I can start treatment to fight my cancer, but I loathe the idea and told him so. In the scheme of things, treatment is low on the list. I want my baby to live.
“At the strangest times, I find myself smiling and now I’m used to the idea, I want my baby so much it hurts. I physically hurt at the idea of losing my child. At the moment, I’m strong and I always was stubborn. Even when I’m gone, my child will know love. He or she will live, safe with my sister. We were brought up in a loving atmosphere. With that sort of grounding, how could either of us be a bad parent?
“I wanted you to know about the baby, Lane, but I want you to know there’s no pressure. I don’t expect anything from you except your best wishes. On the other hand, if you want to know your child, then that’s all right with me too. Whatever you decide is fine.
“I heard you’re on the way with your career just like you planned. I’m pleased for you. I wasn’t sure how to contact you now that you are overseas so I will send this letter care of your agent.
“I wish you all the best for the future, Lane, and I will think of you often with love and great fondness.”
The tears poured down Kate’s face unchecked as she listened to the nuances of Lane’s voice while he read the letter.
“So she sent the letter to Caryn and there it stayed,” Kate said, her voice subdued. “Now we know the truth. The thing that bothers me most—why did Caryn keep the letters? I would have destroyed them, burned them to get rid of the evidence.”
His own eyes were suspiciously moist and reading the handwritten letter tore him up inside. All the wasted years—his life would have turned out so different but for Caryn’s manipulation. The only good things to come out of all this were Jamie and Kate.
He had a son.
Lane sensed the dopey grin stretching across his face and kept his gaze downward. He thought of Nicole with her blinding smile and sparkling eyes, the mother of his son. His grin died as he remembered the “father unknown” on Jamie’s birth certificate. He scowled and fury toward Caryn made him gnash his teeth. What had she done to make Nicole react the way she had? Hoping for answers, Lane reached for the next letter and began to read.
Playing to Win Page 23