“And you told him...?” Emma gripped the arm of her chair.
“I told him to back off. God! Families can be a pain in the ass.”
“I guess they can,” she said, her spine stiffening as she remembered Nathan’s own reaction to the news.
He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t talking about Harley or our...situation.” He leaned forward. “I was talking about my siblings. At least Frankie is being rational.”
Emma moved a colorful paperweight on his desk, lined it up with the edge of a desk calendar. Part of the responsibility for last night’s scene was hers—she’d left that DVD where Harley could find it. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.”
“How did it happen?” He leaned forward. “I thought you weren’t going to say anything to Harley until we’d talked and figured out what to do.”
He thought she’d told Harley? “I underestimated a thirteen-year-old’s curiosity,” she said coolly. “Her mother left a DVD for Harley with the attorney. I hid it in the back of a desk drawer, but she found it.”
“What did...Sonya say?”
His hesitation before saying Sonya’s name made her grit her teeth. “I get that you don’t remember sleeping with Sonya. But don’t you think you should remember the name of your daughter’s mother? In case it, you know, comes up in a conversation with Harley?”
Nathan kept his gaze on her. “Based on last night, I doubt that’s going to happen anytime soon.”
“It’s going to have to happen sometime.”
“What are you going to do? Drop her off here and run like hell?”
“I’d hoped we could have a civil conversation,” she said, standing up. “Clearly, this isn’t the right time.”
“I’m sorry, Emma. That was uncalled-for.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Sit down. Please.” One side of his mouth began to curve. “Haven’t we had enough drama in the last twenty-four hours?”
She hesitated, but finally sank back into the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I guess we’re both on edge. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“What happened after you left?”
“Nothing. She cried all the way home. Locked herself in her room and wouldn’t speak to me. I got the silent treatment this morning, too.”
He sighed. “Thirteen is a tough age. To have your mom die and all this stuff thrown at you? Hard enough for an adult to handle, let alone a hormonal kid.”
Emma frowned. “What would you know about hormonal thirteen-year-olds?”
“I have a sister. Hard as it is to believe, Frankie was once completely out of control.”
“After what happened to her when she was in juvie, she had a right to be.”
“So does Harley. So. Did you come here to figure out our next move?”
“That was part of it.” She hesitated, suddenly reluctant to ask Nathan about his “sketchy activities.” But she had to, for Harley’s sake. “David Sanders called me this morning. He said he’d heard some rumors that you were involved in something...shady. ‘Inappropriate business relationships’ was how he put it.”
Nathan turned to stone in front of her. Stared at her as the moment stretched longer and longer.
Emma tucked her coat around her legs, fiddled with her purse as she held his gaze. Finally he asked, his voice toneless, “Where did he hear that?”
“He said he used to be a public defender. That he still has contacts in that part of the judicial system.” She gripped the purse strap more tightly. “Nathan, are you being investigated for something?”
“No. I am not.”
“Then what was David talking about?”
“I can’t say.”
“You don’t know, or you won’t tell me?”
“I can’t say.” His eyes were as icy and cold as Lake Michigan in the winter. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You were right earlier. This isn’t a good time for a conversation. We’ll talk soon, Emma.”
She stood, clutching her purse like a shield. “I wasn’t accusing you. I was asking. I’m responsible for Harley. If you’re a...”
“Is the word you’re searching for criminal?” He rose to his feet. “The answer is no.”
“I didn’t mean that,” she said, reaching for the door. “I just...”
“I’ll talk to you later, Emma.” He watched her steadily. Beneath the anger, there was hurt. As if he couldn’t believe she’d accused him of something like that.
She was shocked at herself, as well. What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been. She’d been upset by David’s accusation and wanted Nathan to deny it. Laugh it off. Act puzzled.
Anything besides this cold anger.
She stepped away from the door, then hesitated. She couldn’t leave like this. Not only had she offended him, but she’d hurt him, as well. As she turned to go back into the office, she heard Nathan’s voice.
“Patrick? I need to talk to you.” Silence for a few moments. “Yeah. Can you come over? ASAP.”
He was calling the FBI agent.
* * *
NATHAN PROWLED THE kitchen while he waited for Patrick. Marco raised his eyebrows, clearly wondering what was going on, but Nathan ignored him. He was still pissed at his youngest brother.
Finally, the back door banged open and Patrick rushed in. The buttons on his shirt weren’t lined up correctly and his hair was mussed. He’d forgotten his belt, too.
Nathan raised one eyebrow. “Darcy not working today?” Patrick’s fiancée, Darcy, had recently returned to work as an E.R. nurse.
Patrick scowled. “No, she’s not. This better be good.”
“It is.” He glanced at Marco and the cooks, who were openly listening. “Come in the office.”
Patrick slouched down in the chair Emma had been sitting in. She’d looked at him as if he was the scum of the earth. As if he kicked puppies for fun.
Throwing himself into his own chair, Nathan shoved both hands through his hair. “Emma Sloan was just here. She’d heard some rumors and wanted to ask me about them.”
“What kind of rumors?” Patrick asked.
“Rumors from the courts. That I was involved in inappropriate business relationships.” He made quotation marks in the air.
Patrick shot upright. “What the hell? Who did she hear that from?”
“The damn lawyer who handled the Michaels woman’s will. Used to be a public defender. Said he still knows people.”
Patrick slapped a hand on the desk. “Okay. I can work with that. We know people, too. I’ll do some nosing around. This is good, Nate. It’s movement.”
“In what direction?” Nathan kicked away from the desk and stood up. He opened the blinds to the kitchen and stared at Marco, who was stirring something on the stove and talking to Luis at the same time. “Now, not only am I a guy who can’t remember his kid’s mother, but she thinks I’m a crook, too. This is a huge cluster, Patrick.”
“What the hell are you talking about? The kid? Why would she think you’re a crook?”
“Not Harley,” Nathan said impatiently. “Emma.”
Patrick looked puzzled for a moment. Then he smiled. “The woman from Frankie’s open house? The one you were interested in?”
“Yes.” He turned to face his brother. “That woman. I told you she’s taking care of Harley.”
Patrick’s smile faded. “What a mess.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’ll ge
t on it right away. If we can find the person Sanders talked to, maybe we can follow the rumor to the source. That would tell us a lot.”
Nathan hesitated. “Odd that the guy who killed Mom and Dad shows up in the middle of this. You find out anything about Shaughnessy?”
“He was paroled six months ago and lives in a halfway house now. He’s got a job, but I don’t know where yet. I’m working on it, though.” Patrick scowled. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Let me know when you get more information.” Nathan waved toward the door. “Go back to Darcy. And keep me posted.”
Nathan watched his brother leave. The information from Emma was a good break. But why did it have to be Emma who delivered it? Emma, who now thought he was a crook.
* * *
STILL SHAKEN FROM her encounter with Nathan, Emma pulled her car into a parking spot, several buildings down from FreeZone. As she trudged down the sidewalk, she kept her head down to protect her face from the biting wind and the sharp sting of sleet.
As Emma reached the door of the teen center, Harley stepped outside with a girl with short, shaggy brown hair. Harley’s shoulders were tense and her eyes weary.
Harley probably hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep last night, either.
“Hi, Harley,” Emma said when she got closer.
“Hey.”
Harley continued talking to her friend. Emma heard something about “gym” and “dork” and “stinky socks.” Discussing a boy? Oh, God. She so wasn’t ready to deal with that, on top of everything else.
As they stepped outside, Harley said, “Bye, Lissy. See you tomorrow.” She watched the girl walk in the other direction until she climbed into a car. Then she turned around, reluctance clear in every stiff line of her body.
“Down there,” Emma said, pointing at her car.
Harley sprinted toward it, and Emma unlocked the door with her remote. The girl yanked the door open and threw herself onto the seat.
Emma knew better than to assume Harley was anxious to get home. She’d seen the girl shivering in her thin hoodie.
She turned up the heat as she pulled away from the curb. “How was your day?” she asked.
Harley lifted a shoulder. “Okay.”
One word, but more than she’d gotten out of Harley last night and this morning. “School good?”
The same shoulder went up again. “Lot of homework.” She was quiet for a while, then burst out, “Stupid Kevin Diller ran around in gym class, shoving his smelly socks in all the girls’ faces. It was totally gross. He got a detention.”
She was going to have to deal with the whole boys thing. But at least it got Harley talking to her again. Emma relaxed her grip on the steering wheel and her stomach uncoiled. “That’s disgusting.”
“You wouldn’t believe how bad they smelled. It was like someone left their lunch in their locker for a—”
She stopped abruptly. Probably remembered she was angry at Emma. Emma glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. Not the best time for a conversation about boys.
“You want to get something and take it home for dinner? Since you have a lot of homework?”
“No. I want to make dinner.”
“Okay. I think we have chicken in the fridge. There are potatoes and rice. And broccoli and green beans.”
Harley frowned. “There’s a recipe I want to try. I can use some of that stuff.”
“Great.”
An hour later, they were sitting at the kitchen table, eating chicken and rice with a sauce made from sherry and butter and some spices. “This is delicious, Harley,” Emma said.
“It’s okay.” She took another bite. “It needs a little more basil, though. Maybe some lemon juice.”
“Did you make up this recipe?” Emma asked casually. Anything to keep Harley talking.
The girl shrugged, the same indifferent gesture she’d used in the car. “I saw something like it on one of the cooking shows. Tried a few different things.”
“It’s amazing.” She smiled at the girl. “You have great instincts for what tastes good together.”
The tips of Harley’s ears turned red and she took another bite. “It needs work.”
Harley had apparently always had a sensitive palate. Emma remembered Sonya telling her how, when Harley was barely more than a baby, she could always tell if her mother bought the wrong brand of American cheese. “Can you manage to choke it down?” she teased. “Or do you want a PBJ?”
Harley scowled again. “It’s edible.”
After Harley had finished eating and was leaning back in her chair, drinking a glass of milk, Emma said, “Harley, I’m sorry about the way everything happened yesterday.”
The girl set the glass on the table, picked up a piece of green bean on her plate and dragged it through a blob of sauce. “You should have told me,” she said. Her voice was quiet. Sad.
“You want the truth? Can I tell you my side?”
Harley looked directly at her with a surprised expression. “Okay.”
Emma set her fork carefully on her plate. “I didn’t tell you because I knew hearing about your father would upset you. But mostly, I didn’t want anything to change.” She reached toward Harley and tried to take her hand, but the girl snatched it away. Emma sighed. “And, frankly, I was hoping the test would be negative. That there had been a mistake and some other Nathan Devereux was your father. Then we could go through with our adoption plans.”
Harley concentrated on picking up one grain of rice with her fork. “You probably don’t want to adopt me anymore, anyway.”
“Of course I do. Why would I have changed my mind?”
“I was a brat last night. I saw the way you looked at me. You were mad that I made a scene. Mothers have to put up with crap from their kids. But you’re not related to me. And now there’s someone else to dump me on.”
“Harley.” The girl continued to poke at the rice. “Look at me, please.”
Harley raised her head, her face blank.
“Yes, you acted badly last night. That doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Emma touched the back of the girl’s hand. “And there will be no dumping. I want to keep you. Are we clear on that?”
She stared at Harley until the girl shrugged. She still didn’t answer, but her jaw relaxed a little. So did her hand, which was clenched into a fist around the fork.
“But no matter what I want, Nathan is your father. His rights trump my desire to adopt you. So we have to figure out what to do. Okay? You don’t like this. Neither do I. But we have to deal with it.”
“I don’t want to deal with anything,” Harley said, so softly that Emma could barely hear. “I want things to be the way they were.” She looked at her lap, and a tear fell on her jeans. “I want my mom.”
Emma wanted to hold Harley tight and make everything better.
But she stayed in her seat. Harley would shove her away if she tried to hug her. “I know you do, sweetheart. I miss her, too.” Her throat tightened. In the weeks since Sonya had died, Emma had focused on Harley. But seeing the sorrow in Harley’s expression made her own heart ache. She missed her friend.
“It’s not fair that she died,” Harley said.
“No, it’s not. Life can be terribly unfair.” God, she hated that Harley had learned that lesson when she was only thirteen.
Harley lifted her head, tear streaks on her face shiny in the bright light of the kitchen. “I need to do my homework.”
“Okay.”
Harley went into her room, closed the door gently. The lock clicked into place.
CHAPTER EIGHT
NATHAN BOUNCED A pencil off the desk calendar as he fingered the telephone. He needed to call Emma and apologize for the way he’d acted yesterday. He’d been out of line.
She’d accused him of being some kind of criminal.
Damn David Sanders. He wanted to go to the lawyer’s office and kick his ass. Nathan scowled at the phone. What the hell had the guy been thinking?
Maybe Sanders hadn’t been thinking. Maybe he was just reacting to Emma’s big golden eyes. Her undisciplined hair. The body hiding beneath her funky clothes.
Was Emma just as unconventional in other parts of her life?
Not that he would ever know. That initial attraction, the chemistry that had boiled between them, was gone, at least on Emma’s side. In her eyes he was the guy who’d slept with so many women he couldn’t remember them all.
The truth was so far from that, it was laughable. But he wasn’t about to humiliate himself by explaining his pitiful dating life to Emma.
But, damn it, he still wanted to see her again. Alone, this time. So he could apologize. Find out if the attraction between them was completely dead. Maybe it was on life support, and they could resuscitate it.
He punched in her number before he could chicken out and counted the rings. Just as he was about to give up, she answered.
“Emma Sloan.” Brisk. Businesslike.
“Hi, Emma, this is Nathan Devereux.” He swallowed. “I’m calling about yesterday.”
“Yes?”
How did she go from professional to ice-cold in one word? “I need to apologize. I was out of line.” Even though she’d pretty much called him a dirtbag. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”
Silence. Then she said, “I shouldn’t have repeated what David said. So we’re even, I guess.” Her voice was cool and impersonal. As if he was a stranger.
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