But for now, there was still work to do. With a reluctance that almost severed him, he released her.
“This isn’t over.” Ragged breath framed the quiet declaration as he stepped back.
Blair stood there, shaken. She knew what he said was true, but she didn’t know if that frightened or excited her. It was only after a moment that she realized that it did both.
“I know.” She had whispered the words to herself.
But he heard.
Blowing out a long breath, Devin forced himself to concentrate. He turned to the large tome and began to search again for a clue.
7
Devin had paged through the first fifty—three pages of the book when something Blair said earlier replayed itself in his head. It was a long shot, but why not? It might mean the difference between having a print left on his thumb and not.
He looked over toward her. Blair was on the other side of the room, straightening things that were already straight, dusting things that hadn’t, by the looks of them, had an opportunity to gather dust. Cleaning was her way of working through tension. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to polish the surface right off everything.
“You were born December ninth, right?” he said, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” Blair replied. She didn’t see how that would help them today. “Why?”
“Just playing a hunch. That’s twelve—nine,” he murmured to himself. Devin turned to page 129, mentally crossing his fingers.
There was an illustration of cave art, contrasted with Egyptian hieroglyphics found on the walls of pyramids on the opposite page. Nothing was tucked in between the two pages as he had hoped.
“Not a very good hunch,” he conceded, disappointed. “Unless…”
Her interest aroused, Blair crossed to him and peered over his shoulder. She had no idea what he was talking about.
“Unless what?”
“Unless your mother thought of your birthday the way dates are filled out on computer forms. You know, the ones where you have to fill in the little bubbles using only number two pencils.” Her expression told him that she thought he’d lost his mind. “One-two-zero-nine,” he elaborated.
Holding his breath, Devin turned to page 1209. And grinned. He held the book up for Blair to get a better look.
“And we have a winner.”
There, tucked into the crease of the book, was a faded light green check. Pulling out his handkerchief, Devin used it to carefully take hold of a corner of the paper and remove it from where, he had no doubts, it had been sitting the last twenty—two years.
Jack and Ellen Stephens’s name and address were imprinted in bold black letters in the lower lefthand corner. The check was written out for the amount of twenty—five thousand dollars to one Jonathan Wintergreen. It was dated December 1, 1975.
Devin gave a low whistle. Twenty—five thousand dollars had been a great deal of money back then. “You weren’t a million dollar baby, but you didn’t come cheap, either.”
Blair stared at the pale green paper in his hand. Twenty—five thousand dollars. Her parents had never been rich. That must have represented everything they had in the world.
“Black market?” she asked, almost afraid of hearing the answer.
At least he could set her mind at ease about that. “I don’t think so.” Gingerly, he closed the book. “If it was someone dealing in black market babies, he would have wanted cash. Checks can always be traced, cash can’t as long as the bills aren’t marked.”
Still holding the check with his handkerchief, Devin took out his notebook. Tearing off a blank page, he folded it in half, then placed the check between the two sides. If all other avenues failed, maybe there were prints that would lead them to someone.
“You’re pretty good with just one hand.” She couldn’t help noticing.
“I broke my right arm at twelve, when I found out that man wasn’t meant to fly out of tree houses. I spent the summer in a cast, determined not to miss out on any of the fun. I got pretty good at one—handed baseball.”
He must have been hell on wheels as a kid, she thought. He certainly was now. Especially the way he looked at her when he thought she didn’t see.
She turned the conversation back to safer ground. “So, you don’t think my sister and I were stolen from someone and then sold?”
In a way, that would have been much easier for her to accept, knowing that she hadn’t just been carelessly given away, separated from both her mother and her twin because no one cared enough to keep them together. It was believing that she had been given away without a care that really put the edge on the sword. Her second family had lied to her and her first hadn’t even wanted her.
“No, this money probably went to cover something whimsically referred to as ‘expenses.’” He’d cited the term himself when a case had caused him to run up high bills in the course of his investigation. “Ordinarily, that means the birth mother’s hospital bills and the lawyer’s fee. But since you and your sister were already two years old when you were adopted, my guess is that the lawyer’s fee was pretty steep.”
Blair had another explanation. “Or my birth mother was greedy.”
He had an alternative for her. One that rang truer. “Or, your adoptive parents wanted you desperately enough to pay any price. Our Mr. Wintergreen could have smelled that and used it against them.”
Still holding the check in the folded notepaper, Devin turned it over. There was a fifty—fifty chance the cancellation mark was either blurred or so faded that he wouldn’t be able to make it out.
Luck was holding. The cancellation mark was clear and legible. It had been stamped for deposit December 2. Mr. Wintergreen had wasted no time.
“Cashed at a bank in Saratoga.” This represented their first real lead. “We’ve got something to go on now.”
She was afraid to let the excitement free just yet, afraid because the disappointment would be that much greater if she let herself hope.
“How do you know it was for my adoption?” she pressed, silently asking him to reassure her. “Maybe it’s a down payment on the house, or the repayment of my mother’s tuition fees or—”
She certainly knew how to play devil’s advocate, he thought. But he was pretty confident he was right. “If it were, your mother would have had it properly filed in the right place.”
They had already been through all of Ellen Stephens’s legal papers. She’d had them stored, by year and pertinent subject, the latter of which was also alphabetized, in a file cabinet in the garage. Going through them had taken the better part of two hours.
“Your mother was an exceedingly neat person. Keeping everything in its place was almost a religion with her. This,” he said, holding up the check in its makeshift folder, “was tucked into a book that was published the year you were born, on the page that could be translated to be your birthday. What else could it be? Besides,” he added, tucking the check into his shirt pocket, “right now, this is our only lead.”
He’d said “we” and “our” as if they were working on this together. As if his interests went beyond just earning his fee. As if they were partners.
She was making something out of nothing, Blair upbraided herself. Of course Quartermain was only in it for the money. Just because he’d kissed her didn’t mean anything. Believing anything else was just asking to be hurt, and she’d had enough of that to last her two lifetimes.
Blair forced herself to focus on the lead they had discovered. “What’ll you do next?”
“Now that I have a name and an area, there are places I can contact to find an address. The DMV, the state bar association. Besides that, there might be prints on the check I can use.”
Prints made her think of criminals. “So you do think my adoption might have been illegal.”
“Not necessarily. People who work for the government have to be fingerprinted, as do people in the service.” It gave them options. Devin always liked having options. “We’ve got our paper trail.”
Devin slipped his hand around her shoulders in a gesture that was meant to be purely friendly. The slight snap of electricity was an unexpected bonus.
“I found that pessimism doesn’t get me very far in this job. It’s better to stay positive. That way, I seem to have more energy to devote to the case.” He was immensely satisfied with today’s work and with himself, but it was getting late. “C’mon,” he urged, “it’s been a long day. I’ll take you home.”
For a moment, she wondered whose home he meant, hers or his. And, for a moment, she would have been willing to accompany him to his.
But in the morning, she knew nothing would be different The same ghosts would be haunting her, the same feeling of betrayal and abandonment would be with her. Further complicating things would only be stupid.
“I brought my car, remember?”
He shrugged, unfazed. It was a minor inconvenience at best. “So, I’ll follow you.”
Suspicions rose and refused to be held in check. “Why?”
“To see you to your door,” he answered simply as they walked outside. He waited while she locked up. “Maybe I just feel like going for a ride. It’s not really that far out of my way.”
Blair pocketed her mother’s house keys. He seemed determined on accompanying her, one way or another. It made her a little nervous, but she had to admit that it didn’t really bother her.
“You confuse me, Quartermain.”
He laughed, walking ahead of her down the driveway. “Maybe that’s the general idea.”
He wasn’t kidding. She wondered about that, too.
Blair glanced in her rearview mirror, the way she had been doing at every intersection, every corner. Quartermain’s dark car was still right behind her. True to his word, he was following her all the way home. She didn’t know why she should find that so comforting, but she did. Even as nerves bred in anticipation danced through her.
Twilight had already crept into the area on soft, tiny gray feet, an accent to the definite chill that was in the air. She told herself that her excitement was just due to their—his—discovery and not the fact that he was following her home. And anyway, it was just to her door. Maybe he just wanted to make sure nothing happened to her before he got his fee.
The bitterness of her own thought took her by surprise. What had happened to her? Had she completely lost sight of the person she’d been such a short time ago?
A million years ago. When happiness didn’t seem to be such an impossibility.
She forced herself to think of Baylor’s and this morning.
Baylor’s.
Her heart skipped a little beat. Rothwell had promised to give her a call about Mrs. Baylor’s decision. Fresh excitement charged through her like lightning down a rod. Blair pressed down on the gas pedal.
Her car jerked forward, then sped ahead. Devin frowned. They were almost at her house. Why was she suddenly speeding up?
Curious, he matched her speed, eyeing his rearview mirror for any signs of a squad car.
Blair left her car in the driveway again, not bothering with the garage. Someday, she promised herself, she was going to have to see about getting an automatic door opener.
Her house keys and car keys were all on the same ring. She searched until she found the right one, then pushed it into the lock, turning it. The door opened, but the key refused to come out when she pulled. Unwilling to waste any more time, Blair left it in there.
Her keys were still dangling at the lock as she ran to the living room. Devin was only half a minute behind her. His curiosity had turned to concern, especially when he saw the keys.
“Blair?” She didn’t answer him as he worked the key out of the door. When he finally got it out, he noticed the shaft was crooked. In her hurry to get in, she’d bent the key.
“Blair?” he called out again, walking into the house. What the hell had gotten into her?
In response, he heard not her voice, but a man’s. It was somewhat stilted, the way a person sounded when talking to a machine. Blair was listening to her answering machine, he realized just as he entered her living room.
He saw her smiling as she looked at the machine and knew, in that instant, that he wanted to wake up and see that smile beside him every morning of the rest of his life.
So much for professional distance.
“—And just as I predicted, she was simply ecstatic about the set. She would like you to design exclusively for Baylor’s. I’ll have the contracts drawn up for your perusal immediately and send them right over. Call me after you’ve had a chance to read them and we’ll set up a date to discuss your coming aboard. I am very, very pleased, Blair. Call me,” the voice repeated before terminating the connection.
The man’s voice sounded urgent. Devin could relate to that. “Rothwell?” he guessed.
Engrossed, Blair hadn’t heard him come in. She spun around, still beaming. Her hair swung around like a blond curtain, swishing into her face. For some reason, it didn’t surprise her that he knew.
“You know everything, don’t you?”
“I’m working on it.” He memorized the way her face looked at that moment, and swore that someday it would look that way because of him. “So, does that makes things final?” He nodded at the machine.
The last couple of weeks had taught her to count on nothing, but it was hard to squash this wave of happiness surging through her. “I’m almost a success.”
He took a step closer to her. “You don’t need them to tell you that.”
She tried to concentrate on the phone call, and not on the fact that she wanted him to hold her, to cap off the triumph and seal it for her.
Blair kept her voice casual. “No, but it’s easier being a success with money than without it.”
“Yeah, I suppose you have a point.” He ought to be leaving. He shouldn’t just be standing here, breathing in the scent of her hair. “Well, I’ve seen you safely to your door—and then some. I’d better get going.” And then he remembered what he was holding. “By the way, I think you’ll be a lot safer if you don’t leave these hanging in your door.” He handed her the keys. “It’s an open invitation to any nut who might be passing by to wander in.” She’d completely forgotten she’d left them there. Blair wrapped her fingers around the keys, looking up at him. Keys were the furthest thing from her mind right now.
She could feel it, she thought, feel the pull between them as strongly as if he were an iron post and there was a magnet embedded within her body. “Present company excepted?”
He laughed, The sound died away. “I didn’t just wander in, I followed. Which is my point, I guess.” He didn’t know what the hell his point was, only that if he remained standing here, looking into those eyes of hers, he was going to have to kiss her again.
“So what do you do now?”
He knew what he wanted to do. That wasn’t going to help solve the case, but it sure would go a long way to scratch the itch that had been progressively growing within him.
Scratch it, maybe, but he had a hunch that it wouldn’t make it go away. Not by a long shot. If anything, it would make it itchier. He was willing to bet she had that kind of effect on a man. He sure as hell would like to find out
His brain was having trouble functioning. “I’ll make a few calls. Poke around.” It was all very vague sounding but right now, specifics were eluding him. All he could think about was her mouth, and how it had felt against his. And how much he wanted to feel it again.
“Tonight?” Even though she said it hopefully, she knew it was asking too much.
He had to get it together. She was paying for him to find her sister. He had to keep that in mind and remember to put it ahead of his own needs.
It wasn’t easy. Not when there was a fire rising steadily in his veins.
Devin nodded. “Some of the people I know don’t exactly keep regular hours.”
She accompanied him th
e short distance to the door. Though she was eager to have him get on with the search, she realized she wasn’t eager to see him go. She wanted him to remain just a little longer. She knew she was being completely illogical, but it didn’t seem to matter.
She couldn’t remember when she’d felt so muddled. Nothing was cut—and—dried anymore.
“Neither do you,” she pointed out quietly, searching for something to say, something that wouldn’t make it seem so obvious that she wanted him to stay.
He couldn’t resist touching her. There was a loose strand at her temple and he contented himself with tucking it behind her ear. And then his fingertips glided along the shell, down along her neck.
Devin watched in fascination as her eyes widened. Was that anticipation? “That’s part of what I like about the job.”
“And the other part?” she whispered.
He smiled, wondering if she had any idea what she was doing to him. Probably not She wasn’t the calculating sort. “Meeting people like you.”
People. Blair bit her lip. “Are there many people like me?”
“No,” he told her truthfully. “Not many. Not many at all. Matter of fact, you might say that you’re in a class all your own.”
And that made Devin nervous, even as it pleased him. Because he’d never felt this way about a woman before and it was scarier than a high speed chase on the wrong side of traffic.
And more exhilarating.
“You know, this time I really did walk you to your door—” He grinned, thinking of the keys she’d left in the lock. “If only you’d have stood still long enough.”
“Yes,” she agreed softly, her eyes on his, “you did.” Blair turned her face up to his, waiting.
She looked almost terrified, he thought.
“Hey.” Devin cupped her chin in his hand and felt the slight tremor. It stoked his own excitement. “You’re not about to dive off a high board into deep water.”
The pupils of her eyes seemed to grow even larger. “Your opinion.”
“Yeah.” He gathered her into his arms. She felt so soft, so fragile. He swore he’d never do anything to hurt her, never let anything hurt her. “My opinion. What do I know?” Devin swept the hair away from her face just before his lips touched hers.
Desperately Seeking Twin... Page 9