When he took the laminated sheet from her, their fingers brushed. He raised his head and met the startled recognition in her eyes. A moment later, her lashes came down hiding her reaction. In a jerky movement, she swiveled around, and took a binder from the shelves.
Not meeting his gaze, she flipped it open and pointed to an off-white linen paper sample. “Is this what you have in mind for the invitations?”
“That’s exactly what I have in mind.” Actually what he had in mind would probably send her scurrying away. Remembering why he’d come, he suddenly realized how awkward and complicated an attraction to this woman could be. Besides the fact that she wasn’t his type any more than small-town living was his environment, Emily was his first concern. Yet seeing his daughter with Alicia…
He needed to talk to Adam.
Now.
Standing abruptly, he asked, “Tomorrow at one will work for you?”
If she was surprised by his sudden decision to leave, she didn’t show it. She answered politely, “I’ll pencil you in.”
He nodded but couldn’t help extending his hand once more. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
She looked at his hand, then gave it the quickest shake in history. He still felt her hand’s warmth, its fragility, its softness. In more turmoil than he’d thought possible, he said goodbye and strode out the door.
Once outside, he tugged down his tie. Alicia Fallon and her daughter were going to complicate his life more than he’d ever imagined.
Then he reminded himself—Emily was his daughter.
“She’s not what I expected,” Jon told Adam on the phone an hour later.
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I hoped I’d find something wrong. A bad situation. She loves Emily as if she were her own.”
“Emily is her own. Legally speaking. And probably emotionally, too, if I understand you correctly. I have the letter of intent to file for visitation typed up. Should I send it?”
Jon glanced around the efficiency suite he’d be calling home for two weeks, maybe more. “Yes. I’m going to tell her tomorrow. I don’t think she’ll do something stupid like taking Emily and running off.”
“Are you sure?”
Jon thought about Alicia’s cool reserve but remembered the expression on her face when she hugged her daughter. “I’m guessing.”
“Are you going to tell her you want joint custody?”
Remembering Emily sitting on Alicia’s lap, the obvious love between them, he swore. “I don’t know yet. I’m going to play it by ear. This is sticky. If anyone knows that, you should.” Not so long ago Adam’s ex-wife had felt threatened by Adam’s wanting joint custody and she’d taken their two daughters out of the country.
“If you intend to file, you need a Pennsylvania lawyer to handle it for you,” Adam explained. “Let me give you a name. Do you have a pen?”
Jon copied down the name, address and number. Then more to himself than to Adam, he said, “I have to go ahead with this. Emily’s my daughter.”
“I know how you feel, Jon. But you have to be cautious. Does Mrs. Fallon know who you are?”
“What do you mean?”
“Does she know you own a multimillion dollar newspaper enterprise?”
“No. Why?”
“Because if you sue for visitation, she could go for an ample amount of child support.”
“I’ll want to give that to her anyway.”
“Your fair share. With a good lawyer, she could get a lot more than that.”
He’d come out here thinking money could solve this problem as it did most others. After meeting Alicia, he wasn’t so sure. “Adam, I can’t think about that now. I’ll call you when I have new information.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I have a feeling I’ll need it.”
The midday sun couldn’t be brighter. Jon wondered why he never noticed its yellow brilliance in L.A. Maybe it had something to do with the smog. Or maybe he was indoors more than outdoors…when he wasn’t traveling somewhere to look into buying a defunct newspaper, or helping to settle contract negotiations, or…How had his life become such a rat race?
Ever since his father died and he’d had to take over the infant empire, fulfilling his dad’s dreams had become his focus, his reason for living. Now, that might have to change. He had a daughter. He still had trouble believing it at times.
When he rang the bell to Alicia’s office, she didn’t answer. Checking his watch, he realized he was fifteen minutes early. Should he go to the front door? Better yet, he’d rather look around. Hearing the squeal of a child, he followed the sound.
The yard wasn’t large, but there was enough room for a clothesline, redwood picnic table and barbecue grill near the house, a swing set farther back, and in one corner an unfinished structure that looked like a wooden box with a slanted roof. Emily sat on the swing as Alicia pushed her. The child laughed, a pure sweet sound that rang out across the yard. As Alicia pushed, her shoulder-length hair swung in the breeze, shining like spun gold. Nothing could have prevented him from walking toward them, and he’d never been gripped by such an inclination to join in.
When Alicia saw him open the wooden gate and step within its boundaries, she frowned. The sunshine seemed to dim. Emily pointed to him and jumped from the swing.
He’d dressed casually today, hoping that would put Alicia more at ease. He caught her appraisal of his khakis and lightweight red windbreaker, and her interest heated his blood. She wore a white sweater coat over a dress with a slightly scooped neck and a gathered skirt. The small blue flowers dancing across the white background were the same color as her eyes.
Emily came right over to Jon, the hood to her nylon jacket flapping on her back. “Wanna swing?”
Jon checked out the white plastic seat. “I might break it.”
“Nah. Mommy sits on it.”
He crouched down to Emily’s level. “Your mom’s a lot lighter than I am.”
“You can try the sliding board.”
The apparatus was made for anyone under three feet tall. “Well, I’d really like to but maybe you can tell me what that is instead.” He pointed to the partially finished structure.
“My playhouse! C’mon, I’ll show you.” Emily took off at a run.
Jon glanced at Alicia. She wasn’t frowning anymore, but she wasn’t smiling, either. Before she could intervene and send his daughter into the house, he followed the little girl across the yard.
Alicia came up beside him. “You don’t have to do this.”
He kept walking. “Does she play in it?”
“I won’t let her. The boards are rough inside. The carpenter who was working on it was called back to work. He hasn’t had time to finish it. At least he got it under cover. But the walls need to be paneled inside, and the shingles have to be attached. I can’t paint the outside until that’s done.”
“You’re going to do it?”
“Does that surprise you, Mr. Wescott?”
“Jon,” he reminded.
Emily hopped up and down as they approached. “It has a window, and a door, just like our big house!”
Jon laughed. “I see. What are you going to put inside?”
“Furniture, of course,” she answered in a very grown-up fashion.
He bit back a smile. “Of course.”
Alicia placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Time to go inside now. Tell Gertie I’ll be in my office.”
Emily waved at Jon as she ran across the yard to the back door. He waved back, determined to spend more time with her, determined to tell Alicia the truth.
Alicia walked toward her office. “I have everything ready. I think you’ll be pleased with the estimates. The printer I use is reasonable.”
Jon strode beside her, thinking about the best way to tell her about Emily. Strategy had always been his strong suit. What could he do to make Alicia Fallon be the most receptive?
Shrugging out of her
sweater and hanging it on one of the three wooden pegs on the wall, Alicia then went straight to her desk to a manila folder lying there. He could tell she was organized. When she opened the folder and handed him her work, he knew she was precise and expert at what she did, too. The sample cover of the program was very much like last year’s. Yet it was different. The Wescott logo was larger, making it a focal point. She’d also added a simple border of leaves at the two corners that framed the print. It was effective.
She sat in her chair as he sat across from her and said, “I took the liberty of adding the border. If you don’t like it—”
“I like it. It gives the program some style, makes it less cut-and-dried.”
“And the invitation?”
He smiled at her, appreciating the contours of her face, the cornflower blue of her eyes, her creamy skin emphasized by the delicate gold chain around her neck. “It’s just right.”
Alicia leaned back to put more distance between her and Jonathan Wescott’s smile, a smile that created a sensation similar to riding a roller coaster car down a wild dip. She didn’t understand why she was reacting to him this way. Her upbringing had taught her to be wary of men…domineering men like her father. He’d ordered, yelled, criticized, and in general had run everyone’s lives. She’d married Patrick because he’d made her feel safe. This man made her feel anything but safe. The feelings he evoked were exciting…and dangerous.
Ria would say it was about time she was attracted to a man. Her twin sister reacted much differently to the world around her than Alicia did. Ria would take one look at Jonathan, roll her eyes, say “What a hunk,” and…
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “What?”
He smiled—a charming, boyish, melt-her-bones smile. “It’s not fun eating meals alone when I travel. I’d appreciate the company.”
Alicia wheeled her chair back another inch or so to escape his smile’s effect. “That’s not possible.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“I spend my evenings with my daughter.”
His gaze locked to hers. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
Laying the folder on the desk, he asked, “You don’t date?”
“My life is full, Mr. Wescott. I have a thriving business and a daughter whom I love to spend time with.”
“Jon,” he reminded, not giving up. “Certainly one dinner out wouldn’t hurt.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I can supply references.” He smiled again, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’ve already prepared a casserole for supper.”
“I can beat that. Steak, lobster…take your pick.”
She’d been trying to let him down easily but he was more persistent than most. “No.”
He blew out a breath and raked his hand through his hair. “You’re not making this easy.”
“What?”
“Alicia, I have something to discuss with you.”
She didn’t like the tone of his voice, the familiarity that led her to feel he knew more about her than she knew about him. “Anything you have to discuss, we can discuss here.”
He frowned. “It’s personal.”
“I don’t know you. How can it be personal?”
“It’s about Emily.”
A foreboding prickled through Alicia and she straightened in her chair. “What about Emily?”
Jonathan Wescott stood, paced to the steps while he looked up at the closed door, and rubbed his hand across his forehead. Turning around to face her, his expression serious, he said, “I received a letter. A letter from Cecile Braddock.”
Alicia’s heart hammered and she felt the color leave her face. “How do you know her?”
“Did you know Cecile died recently?”
A surge of relief swept through Alicia though she immediately felt guilty for it. “No, I didn’t. But you said she sent you a letter…”
He moved close to the desk. “Cecile and I were involved five years ago. Last week my lawyer contacted me. After Cecile was in an automobile accident and knew she wouldn’t recover, she left me a letter. There’s no easy way to say this. The letter informed me that Emily is my daughter.”
“No!”
“It’s true.”
“She said the father was dead. She said—”
“She lied.”
Alicia’s hands tightened around the arms of her chair. “How do I know you’re not lying? You have no proof.”
“I have the letter.”
Her head pounded and her only thought was to protect the daughter she loved, the daughter she wouldn’t let anyone else lay claim to. She couldn’t think with Jonathan Wescott standing there, towering over her.
She stood and came around from behind the desk. “Please leave.”
“Alicia…”
“And don’t talk to me as if you know me. You don’t. Please leave. If you don’t, I’ll call the police.”
A hard edge to his voice made his words seem louder than they were. “You’ll have to deal with this eventually.”
She went to the door and waited.
Any charm she thought he might have, the gentleness she’d glimpsed as he’d talked to her daughter, was gone. His eyes were shuttered, his expression cold, his voice dangerous as he said, “She’s my daughter and I intend to see her. I’ll take this to court if I have to. I’ll do whatever is necessary. If money is what you want, maybe we can settle this without going to court.”
She blinked. “You think I’d sell my daughter?” she asked, anger mixed with astonishment making her voice rise.
“Of course not.” He again raked his hand through his hair. “But I’m sure a monetary settlement can help us reach a solution.”
“There is no solution. You keep your money, Mr. Wescott. And you stay away from Emily.”
The lines of his jaw stiffened along with his posture. “That isn’t possible. She’s my daughter, too. If you won’t be reasonable about this, get ready for the fight of your life.”
Alicia’s silence told him better than words that she didn’t consider “reasonable” an option.
Taking a business card from his pocket, he snapped it on her desk. “If you don’t call me within twenty-four hours, I’ll take the next step, a less personal one.”
Alicia still stood silently by the door, her expectation that he leave a palpable vibration in her office. She realized he was a force to be reckoned with, but he had to understand that she would protect and safeguard her daughter no matter what she had to do.
Their gazes locked in a battle of wills; she wouldn’t look away. Finally he crossed to the door and brushed by her, his arm grazing hers. As upset as she was, the contact still jolted her. Hearing the screen door shut behind him, she closed her eyes.
She’d feared this day. Ever since the adoption. Yes, Emily knew she was adopted. Alicia and Patrick intended their daughter to know she was chosen and wanted badly. But Alicia had always feared that some day Cecile Braddock would realize she’d made a mistake, she’d realize she’d given up the most precious gift of her life.
Alicia shook and leaned against the door as tears welled up and ran over. She’d never expected to have to worry about a father, too.
Her legs suddenly felt weak and she slid down to the floor, crossing her arms over her aching heart. She would not lose Emily. She would not. She’d fight. She’d fight with everything she had, everything she could find.
The phone rang as her first sob broke loose. Alicia dropped her face into her hands and let the tears come as the phone continued to ring.
Chapter Two
Alicia’s answering machine kicked on while she still had her face buried in her hands. At first she didn’t register the caller’s voice, but within seconds her sister’s concern penetrated her anguish. “Alicia, are you okay? I had this funny feeling. You know what I mean. You’ve gotten it often enough, too. Are you there? Is Emily all
right?”
Ria’s voice urged Alicia to push herself to her feet. Crossing to the desk she picked up the receiver. “Ria, I’m here.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” her twin asked with concern.
Taking a breath, she pulled herself together. “Sick at heart.”
“What’s happened?”
“A man came here and said he’s Emily’s father.”
“But he’s dead!”
Alicia ran her hand across her forehead. “Jonathan Wescott says Cecile Braddock lied.”
“And?”
“He threatened to take us to court. He offered me money.”
“Money?”
“I told him I didn’t want his money and he should stay away from us. But I don’t think he will.” She remembered his twenty-four-hour deadline. “I have to call a lawyer.” She’d find out what her rights were, then she’d face Jonathan Wescott armed for battle.
The following morning, Alicia paced Ria’s office, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her suit jacket. She’d called Tom Marsten, the lawyer who’d handled Emily’s adoption. “I’m frightened, Ria. Tom believes Jonathan Wescott can get visitation rights on the strength of that letter alone. What chance do I have? What if I lose Emily?”
Ria’s short, blond, blunt-cut hair swung along her cheek as she answered firmly, “You are not going to lose your daughter.”
Throughout their lives, Ria had been the cheerleader, the rebel, the free spirit who’d kept Alicia from retreating into herself. “Thank you. You always say what I need to hear. I hope I’m doing the right thing meeting this man without Tom present. But Tom couldn’t set up a meeting until next week and I know Jonathan Wescott wouldn’t wait that long before taking some kind of action.”
“It might be better this way, Sis. If Marsten were here, Wescott would want his lawyer present. They could hide what information they have and save it for a more opportune moment, like in court. Lawyers create an adversarial atmosphere from step one. This might be the best way to go. At least you’ll find out his intentions.”
Alicia had been grateful when Ria had offered her office, one of many in the business firm for which she worked, as a neutral meeting place. “I feel as if I’m going to jump out of my skin. What time is it?”
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