by Robin Wells
The gaze Annie shot him was wary. "Why?"
"Well, because it would prove that I am with a ninety-nine point nine percent probability of accuracy or prove for certain that I'm not."
Annie's eyes grew scared. "Why do you need proof?"
"Because I want to be as sure as it is possible to be." He angled a glance at her. "If you were in my shoes, wouldn't you?"
She gave a reluctant nod. "I suppose."
"It's really very simple." He stopped at the end of the driveway, then pulled the car out on the road and headed north. "We can do it today. I made a few phone calls, and there's a lab near the doctor's office in Bartlesville."
Annie stared out the window as they pulled out on the highway. "And if the tests say you're Madeline's biological father, then what? What do you want to do with the information?"
Jake met her gaze. "Annie, I want to be a part of Madeline's life."
Annie stared out at the passing pastureland, her heart pounding, her palms damp with anxiety. The last few days had given her a lot of time to think about things and to watch him with Madeline.
Just last night she'd walked in to the nursery to find Jake dancing with the baby in his arms, crooning a low-key rendition of "Inagodadavida." Annie had ducked back into the hallway, not wanting to ruin the moment, her hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh.
"Bay bay bay," Madeline had cooed as he finished.
Annie had leaned against the wall, listening to his response. "Do I hear a request from the audience? You want your mommy's baby song? Well, it's not in my usual repertoire, but let's see what I can do."
Jake's deep baritone had begun to sing:
"Baby, oh, baby! Baby, oh, baby! Baby, oh, baby—Oh!" To Annie's amusement, he'd put a James Brown-type yowl on the last syllable.
"Baby, I love you. Baby, I love you. Baby, I love you so!”
Jake had sung the last verse like an Elvis impersonator. Madeline had squealed with laughter, and something in Annie's heart melted.
Jake's words brought her back. "If the test is positive, I want to be a father to her," he was saying.
Annie slowly nodded. "I can understand that. I've even come to accept that it could be good for Madeline. But..."
"But what?"
"I don't want to be separated from her."
"Annie, I'm not planning to take Madeline away from you."
She searched his face, trying to search his heart. "You threatened to."
"That was before I got to know you."
Annie's eyes narrowed. "And now that you know me, you've changed your mind?"
Jake rubbed his jaw. "Well, when I first met you, I thought you were a real head case."
Annie's chin tilted up. "Thank you for that astoundingly flattering assessment."
Jake shot her a cajoling grin. "Oh, come on-you have to admit, you came across as something of a flake. You mistook me for someone else. You force-fed me tea, then started reading my fortune. You told me your dead granddad talks to you through billboards, you were dressed like a fur-covered street urchin, and you had a sign by the road advertising pecks of llama poop...."
"Alpacas," Annie corrected. "They're alpacas."
Jake heaved a sigh. "The point is, you came across as less than stable."
"And now you've decided I am?"
Jake's grin was teasing. "Well, I wouldn't take it that far."
Annie couldn't keep from smiling back.
"You're a good mother. Madeline loves you, and you obviously dote on her." Jake pulled his eyes from the road and gazed at her. "I know she needs you."
Annie's chin was still tilted at a combative angle, but her eyes softened.
"But I also think every child needs a father." Jake searched her face. "I'll be good for Madeline, Annie."
Annie drew a slow breath, then nodded. "Okay. You can come see Madeline anytime you like. But I don't want you taking her away for weekends or anything until she's older."
"How much older?"
"I don't know."
At her words, the attorney in Jake wanted to respond, to negotiate, to press the advantage. But another part warned him off.
This was a start. Annie had just made a major concession. He didn't want to scare her by forcing the issue. He'd get the legal proof, then he'd have it if he needed to use it. "So what about the paternity test?"
He heard Annie suck in her breath.
His brow wrinkled with concern. "What is it? Does your incision hurt?"
"No. That billboard.... " Her voice broke off. Oh, jeeze. "Your grandfather's talking to you?" She sheepishly nodded.
Christ. Maybe she was a head case, after all. Jake peered at the sign. "He's saying `Turn here for gas?' "No. The other sign."
"Give blood?"
"Not that part. Read what's under it."
160
"You know it's the right thing to do," Jake read aloud. "So go ahead and say yes. "
Annie nodded. "Well, I guess you have your answer about the test."
It was one thing for her to tell him her grandfather spoke to her through billboards. It was another to be there when it happened: "When your grandfather talks," Jake asked carefully; "Do you actually hear him?"
"Yes."
"I didn't hear anything just now"
"Well, of course not. He doesn't actually speak." "But you just said—"
"I don't hear him with my ears. I hear him with my heart." Annie looked over, her eyes half-amused, half-worried. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"
Jake considered the question, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Hell. Some people believed in the power of pyramids and crystals. Other people believed in seances and channeling and good luck charms. That didn't mean they were ready for a padded cell.
What the heck. When it came to paranormal happenings, having a dead granddad give advice through billboards was probably preferable to a lot of options.
"Admit it," Annie prodded. "You think I'm nutty as squirrel bait."
"Well," Jake said at length, "you're definitely a little eccentric. But as long as Grandpa's on my side, I guess it's not too bad."
The smile she flashed him was so warm and genuine that it seemed to bore right into him, right through the muscle of his chest, right through the hard rock of his heart. And before he knew it, against all his better judgment, he found himself smiling back.
Chapter Ten
"A baby he didn't know about, by a woman he'd never met," Susanna's friend Joan murmured through the phone. "This is incredible, Suze. It's like something from the National Enquirer!"
Susanna twirled the kitchen phone cord around her finger. "I know. And Jake seems enamored with the child. I can't wait to see her."
"What's Tom's reaction?"
"He's mad enough to spit nails."
"Why?"
Susanna sighed. "That's a good question. He says Jake is being disloyal to Rachel, but I think the unfairness of it all is what's got him upset. You know how much Rachel wanted a baby."
"Yes." Joanie's voice was soft. "I can understand how he might see it like that."
There was a pause. "So how are things between the two of you?"
Susanna sighed again. "Oh, I don't know."
"That doesn't sound good."
"It doesn't feel very good, either." Susanna pulled a glass from the cupboard and carried it to the sink, stretching the phone cord behind her.
"So what happened the other night? Besides finding out about Jake's news, I mean."
Susanna turned on the faucet and filled the glass with water. "Well, I picked Tom up at the airport, just like I used to do. It used to be a little ritual of ours—a way of letting him know that I'd missed him while he was gone, and that was I eager for him to be home, eager to ... well, you get the picture."
"And?"
"And he got off the plane with a woman—a very attractive woman. Apparently she's an attorney, too, and she'd attended the same seminar in Denver. She was...
"What?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid, but it seemed like she looked at Tom like she wanted to just eat him up, then looked at me like she wanted to scratch my eyes out."
"Uh-oh. Did you ask Tom about her?"
"Well, he introduced us. Evidently they'd worked on a case together a few months back—they were opposing counsel. They'd run into each other at this seminar and just happened to be on the same flight home together. He acted like they only knew each other through work."
"But you don't believe him?"
Susanna set the glass on the kitchen counter and pushed back her hair. "Oh, Joan, I don't know what I believe."
"How are things in the bedroom between you two?"
"Nonexistent. I mean, I tried, but…" She trailed off.
"You tried to seduce him?" Joan prompted.
"Well, I don't know that I'd call it seduction, exactly."' "So what did you do?"
"I asked him to move back into our bedroom." Susanna felt her voice waver. "He turned me down. He said he was afraid he'd disturb my sleep, that he didn't want to set me back just as I'm getting well."
"Is it possible he just didn't get your drift?"
"I don't know. I guess anything's, possible. He's been so different since Rachel died." Susanna twirled the phone cord around her finger, her chest tight and heavy. "And I feel like it's all my fault. I mean, I'm the one who withdrew."
"You were ill. Depression is an illness."
"Ill, depressed, crazy-all I know is that the whole rhythm of our lives is off. We barely see each other. He leaves for the office at dawn and gets home late. There's a huge gulf between us, and I hate it."
"Well, then, you need to bridge it. Try again. Be more direct this time."
"What if he just flat-out rejects me? I don't think I could stand that."
"Can you stand letting things go on the way they are?"
Susanna hesitated. She missed more than the physical intimacy. She missed the emotional closeness, the private jokes, the special, wordless way they used to connect across a room. "No," she said softly. "No, I can't. But I don't want to confront him about it, either. Not yet, anyway."
"Why not?"
"I'm afraid he'll leave." Putting her deepest fear into words made it suddenly seem more real. "I want a chance to fix things, to show him I've changed. I want a chance to win him back."
Joan was silent at the other end of the phone for a long moment. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Somehow, I need to find a way to make him fall in love with me all over again."
Tom pulled his Jaguar into the driveway and killed the engine. It was nine-fifteen at night, but from the lack of light inside his house, it might as well have been midnight.
Odd. Susanna was usually a night owl. A month or two ago, he would have assumed she'd already gone to bed, but lately she'd started keeping her old hours again.
Maybe she'd gone out with some friends. She knew he hadn't planned to be home for dinner, because she'd called and asked. He'd told her that he had a racquetball game scheduled and that he'd grab a bite at the gym afterwards.
She'd assumed he was playing with his usual partner, Gary, and he hadn't volunteered any information otherwise. He saw no point in telling her his partner had been Kelly.
A. twinge of guilt pricked his conscience as he unbuckled his seatbelt. He tried to push it away. He had nothing to feel bad about. He wasn't cheating on Susanna.
Not anywhere but in his imagination, that was. Nor would he. It went against his grain, against his ethics. He wouldn't get physically involved with another woman unless he'd ended things with Susanna first.
The thought brought a fresh burst of guilt, sharper than before, and he heaved out a sigh that seemed to come from the center of his gut. He was considering it. God help him, he was. For the first time in thirty-three years, he was actually contemplating divorce.
He sighed and speared his fingers through his. hair. Susanna had been his first love, and he'd always thought she would be his last. Over the past two years, though, things had changed.
She had changed. He had changed. Their lives had changed. It felt as if the supports had been knocked out from under them, as if the very foundation of their marriage had crumbled.
He didn't know if it could be rebuilt. He didn't know if he even wanted to try. The whole thing felt like such a convoluted mess, such an awful burden. Maybe they'd both be better off if they just cut their losses and walked away. That way they could each make a fresh start without having to sit around and sift through any more pain.
He was so damned tired of all the pain. He'd done nothing but grieve and hurt and work since Rachel died. Susanna had been so depressed that it depressed him to be around her. He'd started getting up in the morning before she awoke and coming home late. When he was home, he buried himself in paperwork in his study.
He couldn't stand to see Susanna hurting and not be able to do anything about it. She wouldn't let him do anything, wouldn't let him try to comfort her, either. The helplessness of it all was crushing him. It had made him feel impotent and old and useless.
And then Kelly had entered the picture. From the first time she'd shown up at his office with two other attorneys to discuss a corporate merger, something about her had made him feel more alive than he had in ages.
She'd radiated something—interest, awareness, flirtatiousness. It had been there in her eyes from that very first day, from the moment she'd first shaken his hand and held it a second or two longer than necessary. During the hour-long meeting that had followed, he'd felt the heat of her gaze on him across the long conference table. When he'd glanced up, she hadn't looked away.
Instead, her lips had curved in a slight, knowing smile, a smile that was suggestive and inviting.
That smile had sent currents of shock rippling through him. That was when he'd first noticed, on more than a cursory level, that she was attractive—extremely attractive. Long legs, a slim waist, generous breasts, shoulder-length blond hair ... good heavens, she was a knockout! The realization startled him. It had been a long time since he'd thought of a woman other than Susanna in terms of sexual attractiveness.
It had been even longer since a woman had thought of him in those terms, he thought darkly. Susanna had lost all interest in sex after the death of Rachel. She hadn't even wanted to be held or comforted. She'd rejected all physical contact, wanting to curl up in a ball and just be left alone.
At first he'd been suspicious of Kelly, thinking she might be a decoy, part of a tactical plan by opposing counsel to keep him distracted and off-guard. The ploy wasn't unheard-of in the world of high-stakes negotiations. In the case of a friendly merger like this one, though, it made no discernible sense. Besides, she wasn't just an ornament; she was lead counsel for her legal team.
"It's been a pleasure," she'd purred, offering her hand as she left the office at the end of the meeting. "I look forward to our next meeting."
She'd called and invited him to lunch the following week. Thinking it was strictly business and the other attorneys assigned to the case would be present as well, he'd taken Jake along to get his perspective on a tricky financial issue. He'd been surprised to discover that she was alone, and she hadn't bothered to bring a single document with her.
Jake had seemed surprised, too. He'd made several pointed references about Susanna, as if he wanted to make sure Kelly knew that Tom was married. If she took the hint, she didn't show it.
Over the last couple of months, Tom had seen Kelly frequently. She dropped by his office when a phone call would have been easier, and she continued to give him that sexy, secret smile whenever she caught his eye. Tom found himself smiling back. It gave him a heady feeling, this flirting business. After months of rejection at home, it felt good to indulge in something light-hearted and frivolous, something that boosted his ego and lifted his spirits. It was all perfectly innocent, he told himself, just good, clean fun. And it probably would have stayed that way, too, if Kelly hadn't go
ne to that conference in Denver.
He'd run into her the first night at the opening reception. They'd gone to dinner with a group of other people, but by the end of the evening, they'd ended up alone in the hotel bar. He told her about Rachel's death, and she told him about her divorce two years earlier. She'd asked about his marriage, and the next thing he knew, he'd spilled out all of his frustrations and worries about Susanna. The conversation drifted to sports, and they'd discovered they both liked to ski and play racquetball. He told jokes and laughed at hers and drank more than usual, and then she'd begged him to dance.
That had been the turning point. Holding her against him, swaying to a slow samba rhythm, feeling her breasts against his chest and her breath on his neck—it had all conspired against him. During the brief duration of the song, she'd infected him like a virus, weakening his resistance, making him feverish with desire. In the span of just a few minutes, she went from being a woman he was flirting with to a woman he longed to bed.
It had taken all of his resolve not to kiss her, not to follow her to her room. He might even have tried if two of his friends from Texas hadn't entered the bar and invited the two of them to join them for a drink. After a quick nightcap, Tom fled to his room.
The close call scared him. He'd avoided Kelly the rest of the trip. But then she'd sat beside him on the plane on the way home, and it was there again—the strong pull of attraction, the heady sensation of wanting and being wanted. Tom had tried to keep the conversation neutral, but every topic seemed laden with innuendo.
She'd called him twice in the past two weeks, and both times he'd turned down her invitations to lunch. But she'd caught him at a weak moment this afternoon. He'd had a crummy day—he'd not only lost a case, but argued with Jake over that damned baby—and when she had suggested a game of racquetball that evening, he'd agreed. He deserved a little pleasure in his life, he thought belligerently. Life shouldn't be all work and worry and problems. He liked the way he felt when he was with her—witty and smart and younger and, well, sexy. Hell. He might be a little gray around the temples, but he still liked to feel like a man.