WIFE BY DECEPTION

by Donna Sterling

  Mitch swore to himself that he'd bring his daughter home to join in the fun with her cousins. To dance to her uncle Mazoo's fiddle. Eat her grandmère's jambalaya. Wrap her papa around her little finger.

  He'd bring Camryn back here, too—to resolve the legal glitches in their divorce proceedings, and to face the judge who had granted them joint custody. Despite the failed divorce, they were legally separated, and that custody agreement was legal and binding. She'd had no right to leave the state of Louisiana, or to keep his daughter away from him.

  Yes, indeed, she would face the judge and pay whatever price he set for violating a court order. Maybe that would stop her from running away with Arianne again.

  Late Friday afternoon, Kate rolled the stroller up to the gate of the clubhouse area just in time to watch parents clamber out of the swimming pool with infants and toddlers in their arms, rivulets of water trickling from matted hair, slick swimsuits and sagging diapers. As everyone headed toward lounge chairs and beach towels, the instructor called out reminders of next week's class.

  Drat. Kate had been hoping to watch at least some of this afternoon's swim class in session. The walk through the two adjacent subdivisions had taken longer than she'd expected, though. There'd been so many distractions along the way—flowers to sniff, kitties to pet, neighbors to enchant with Arianne's sunny, drool-shiny smile. And then there was Arianne's fondness for flinging her toys out of the stroller, just for the fun of having Kate retrieve them. The walk had taken considerably longer than expected.

  Which was fine with Kate. It seemed to her that the journey itself was just as important as the destination—and they'd had a lovely journey. Maybe they would watch the swim class next week. At the neighborhood Fourth of July party yesterday, the lifeguard in her own subdivision had recommended this particular instructor for infant swimming lessons. Kate wanted to see for herself what methods the woman used.

  She peered at the parents trudging past her toward the parking lot. A few moms and dads were talking and smiling. Others looked exhausted and harried. And … frustrated? Not a good sign.

  Kate approached one young mother who had emerged from the pool area with a towel-wrapped infant huddled against her shoulder. Smiling at both the baby and his mother, Kate introduced herself as a resident from the neighboring subdivision. "I'm thinking of enrolling my nine-month-old for swim lessons. Are you happy with the classes so far?"

  "Oh, absolutely." The deeply tanned brunette, who smelled of chlorine and suntan lotion, lovingly towel-dried her son's reddish, downy-fine curls. "Davey has learned so much in just two months. He can already hold his breath underwater. And he's only ten months old." She fairly beamed with pride.

  "That's great. Does he enjoy the lessons?"

  "Enjoy them?" She sounded surprised at the question. "Well, actually, he'd rather just play around in the pool with his toys than do what the teacher says. I suppose that's only to be expected." A flicker of frustration disrupted her smile. "And for some reason, he resists floating on his back."

  Warning bells sounded in Kate's head. If any amount of coercion was involved in teaching a baby to swim, the instructor was probably teaching at her pace rather than the baby's. And, from the articles Kate had read on the subject, she'd learned that back floating was a skill to be explored later in a baby's progression.

  No, she wouldn't subject Arianne to the stress of these particular lessons. She wanted her to enjoy learning, not shy away from it. She wanted the lessons to be a happy, peaceful time. An opportunity for physical and spiritual enrichment. A chance for her and Arianne to grow closer.

  Maybe she should look into mother-baby yoga lessons, instead. "Thanks for the information," Kate said. "I think I'll wait another month or so before I sign Arianne up for swim lessons, though. You know, I've read some highly informative articles about infant swim lessons on the Internet."

  "Really?"

  Unable to resist the chance to save Davey from distressful lessons that might negatively affect his attitude toward learning, Kate told the woman how to find the articles she'd read.

  Arianne, meanwhile, dropped the teething ring she'd been gnawing on, emitted a joyous squeal and pointed a stubby little finger at the pool. "Fwim!" Shifting her bright brown eyes to Kate, she repeated, "Fwim?"

  Kate smiled at her with all the pride, warmth and tenderness brimming in her heart. Only nine months old, and she could already say fwim. She clearly had genius potential. "No, sweetie. We can't swim today. Tomorrow, maybe. In our own pool."

  Arianne returned a still-hopeful gaze to the pool. Kate pulled a small foil-wrapped pack from her purse, knelt beside the stroller and distracted the little brown-eyed blonde with a teething biscuit.

  Davey's mother shifted her towel-swathed son to her other hip and smiled at Arianne. To Kate, she said, "She's adorable. And she looks so much like you. You couldn't deny she's yours even if you wanted to."

  Kate felt her smile falter. Couldn't deny she's yours. If only that were true. "Thanks. I … I guess I'd better head back home. It's quite a walk." After wishing the woman luck with Davey's lessons, Kate wheeled the stroller toward the sidewalk.

  And tried not to let the innocent remark hurt too much. Hard to do, though, when the wound was still so raw. Because regardless of the fact that Arianne resembled her—same honey-blond hair, same brown eyes, even the same little cleft in her chin—she wasn't Kate's. Not biologically, or even legally, as of yet.

  Her real mother had been killed.

  Camryn.

  A bittersweet pang went through Kate, as it always did when she thought of her sister. Then the grief set in. She was gone—her glamorous, high-flying rebel of a twin who had vexed her, angered her, worried her sick, but always brought tales of wild urban adventures that made Kate's own life seem boring in comparison. Camryn had been a dreamer, outrageously self-centered and as flighty as a kite in a high wind. She'd always gravitated toward the wrong crowd, set her sights on impractical goals and gone about reaching them in the hardest possible way. They'd argued more often than they'd laughed together, but her rare visits had added a certain zest to Kate's workaday life. There would be no more surprise-packed visits from out of the blue.

  After six months, the grief had only begun to mellow.

  At least she still had Arianne. A simple glance at her niece filled her with warm, comforting love … as well as concern. It had taken Kate more than five months—until last Friday, to be exact—to ask a lawyer about adoption proceedings. Because Arianne's father presented an unknown variable, she'd felt she had too much to risk by bringing Arianne to the attention of the courts.

  Government bureaucracies always worried her. The Department of Family and Children Services had ruled her and Camryn's lives from the age of five—when they lost their parents in an automobile accident—until the day they turned eighteen. As humiliating and dehumanizing as that experience had been, they'd actually fared better than many of the children trapped within that frightening system. At least Cam and she had had each other.

  Now Kate hesitated to contact the authorities for fear that some obscure regulation would result in their taking Arianne away from her. She shuddered to think of her dear little niece at the mercy of the heartless court system. Kate swore that Arianne would be raised by her—not shuffled around between foster homes or dumped into an orphanage, as Camryn and she had been.

  But Kate knew she couldn't simply keep Arianne indefinitely. Too many questions would be asked—by doctors, school officials and the like. Kate believed in building a strong, unshakable foundation on which to base one's life. That foundation was a person's only real security. Arianne's foundation would require the paperwork that made her a legal citizen of the United States and Kate's legally-adopted daughter. Neither status was readily available without Arianne's birth certificate.

  Her lawyer had warned her, too, that an adoption would be difficult without permission from Arianne's father. And Kate had no idea who he was or where he lived. She h
ad no record of Arianne's birth, where she was born or even what her legal last name was.

  "Isn't there a way around the red tape?" Kate had asked. "My sister told me Arianne's father doesn't want her. Even if we somehow learn his name, I doubt that we'll find him. Knowing the kind of men my sister was involved with, he's probably a drifter, or on the run from the law."

  Although the attorney foresaw dozens of obstacles, he promised to delve into the matter as quickly and discreetly as possible.

  For the umpteenth time, Kate fervently wished she'd gotten more details from Camryn about her ex-husband. Unfortunately, Camryn hadn't wanted to talk about him. All she'd told her was that his name was Mitch, he didn't want a wife or daughter and he'd been "mean."

  "Abusive?" Kate had asked, horrified.

  "Very," Camryn had confirmed in a choked whisper.

  Kate had tried to pry more information from her, but to no avail. The very idea of a man abusing her sister and niece infuriated Kate. In order to get to sleep that night, she had to remind herself that in Camryn's mind, "abusive" could cover anything from physical battery to a refusal to fly her to Tahiti. She had seemed extremely upset at the very mention of this man's existence, though.

  Then again, Camryn had closed the subject of her ex-husband with a sigh. "I don't know why I married him in the first place. I guess I'm just a sucker for a big, strong male body and sexy golden-green eyes." An odd wistfulness had crossed her face. "And he does have the sexiest eyes."

  Ah, Camryn! There'd been times when Kate had wanted to shake her.

  If only she'd shaken some information loose from her that night. But Camryn had been too exhausted to chat for long. She fell asleep within an hour. Kate, on the other hand, spent half the night reeling from the news that her twin had married again, given birth and divorced since they'd last spoken. She mulled over those developments while walking the floor with Arianne, who'd been wretchedly suffering from teething woes.

  Kate hadn't handled a baby in years, but her vast experience from growing up in the Tallahassee Methodist Children's Home came in handy that night … and ever since.

  It had been so typical of Camryn, dropping in unexpectedly after eighteen months without contact and blindly assuming that Kate would baby-sit for weeks at a time. She'd also stolen her car, leaving nothing but a mechanically challenged convertible and a brief note that thanked Kate in advance for keeping Arianne while Camryn went to New York to get them roles in a soap opera.

  Oh, Cam.

  The call had come less than an hour after Kate had read the note. The highway patrol contacted her from the number listed on the car's registration. Looking back, Kate was glad that Camryn had taken her car, or Kate might never have known what had become of her twin. Whatever identification papers she'd carried had gone up in flames. The head-on collision had rated only a brief mention on the evening news, without names or pictures of the deceased.

  Grief, regret and a terrible sense of loss haunted Kate, especially in the oppressive silence of night. During the day, she kept herself busy tending her motherless niece. Despite the financial strain and interruption to her career, Kate had taken the spring and summer semesters off from teaching to spend time with Arianne during these formative months of her life.

  Kate had lost her twin after failing her in some fundamental way long ago. She couldn't remember a time she hadn't felt vaguely guilty over Camryn's emotional neediness. She should have tried harder to take her parents' place in Camryn's life; to supply more of the love she'd so clearly needed. Until the day she died in that fiery wreck, Camryn had been desperately searching for validation of her own worth … and always in the wrong places…

  Kate swore she wouldn't allow Arianne to travel the same path. Bright, beautiful Arianne would remain her top priority from now on.

  Kate felt only pleasure at the prospect. The baby filled a void in her heart that she hadn't known existed. She brought sweetness and warmth to her home and a deeper meaning to her life. Kate loved her more intensely with every passing day.

  I'll take good care of her, Cam. I won't let you down again.

  As she turned a corner into her own subdivision, clouds drifted across the late-afternoon sun, throwing the suburban Tallahassee street into momentary shade. She savored the respite from the July heat and pushed the stroller past neat lawns and brick homes toward her own modest ranch-style house.

  By the time she reached the welcoming shadows inside her attached garage, Arianne was snoozing. Kate parked the stroller alongside the red Mustang convertible Camryn had left, ignoring the grief the sight of the car induced. Drawing the house key from a pocket of her khaki shorts, she turned to unlock the door.

  A form loomed up from behind her. Before she could react, a hard hand came down over her mouth and jerked her backward against a large, solidly muscular body.

  "Hello, Camryn," a gruff voice rasped in her ear. "Long time no see."

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  « ^ »

  Fear paralyzed Kate into absolute stillness. Her assailant thought she was Camryn.

  At the sound of footsteps behind her and a muffled murmur, she realized he wasn't alone. Though he'd greeted her in perfect English, he rattled off some brusque instructions to his accomplice in a language sounding like French. The only word she recognized meant "baby."

  She tried to cry out, but the sound barely escaped the callused hand he'd clamped over her mouth. Dread slowed her heartbeats to a near standstill. Arianne was sleeping in the stroller behind her. God, please don't let them take Arianne!

  With the key Kate had inserted in the lock, the man opened the door. His hand still covering her mouth, he nudged her inside.

  Fear hammered through her. What did this stranger want with her—or rather, with her sister? Was he a jilted lover? Or maybe a psychotic fan from one of the bars where she'd performed. Or a bookie. A loan shark. Camryn may have owed him money. Stories of brutality flashed through Kate's mind, terrifying her.

  With steellike strength, her assailant swept her down the short hallway and into the kitchen, where she looked for something to use as a weapon. Not a knife, fork, glass or bottle was anywhere in sight. The wall telephone hung a few feet away. If only she could get to it long enough to dial.

  He dropped his hand from her mouth, gripped her shoulders, turned her around and pushed her down into a kitchen chair. Bracing his hands on its carved wooden arms, he leaned in close. "Don't even think about getting up. You're not going anywhere until I tell you to."

  His lean, sun-browned face blazed with frightening anger. But it was his eyes that held her riveted—a vibrant, golden green, shocking in the ruggedness of his face. A memory stirred. Sexy green eyes… Her absolute terror pushed the memory beyond her reach.

  He straightened to his full, imposing height, his fists on his hips, a threat in every tensed, muscled contour of his body. "Don't look so stunned to see me. You had to know I'd find you." His deep, rough voice held a hint of an accent she couldn't quite place. His thick hair shone in tawny waves, the color of a lion's mane, with his skin glowing slightly darker. From the sweep of his arrogant forehead to the long, clean line of his jaw, she saw no weakness in his face … only uncompromising strength and hardness. "I wouldn't have stopped looking, Camryn. Ever."

  "You have the wrong person," Kate managed to whisper. "I'm not Camryn."

  A harsh laugh tore from him. "And I suppose the baby isn't Arianne."

  He knew Arianne. Fear engulfed Kate. "What do you want?"

  "I want what's mine."

  His deadly soft answer frightened her all the more. A terrible suspicion dawned. "And what," she asked haltingly, "do you consider yours?"

  Grim humor glinted briefly in his gaze, surprising her.

  "Don't worry, chèr'. Not you." The humor quickly vanished, leaving his expression granite cold. "I meant my daughter."

  The world tilted crazily around Kate. He had to be Mitch. Arianne's father. The man whom Camryn had c
alled "mean." And he'd come to take Arianne.

  Kate rose from the chair in a horrified daze. "You can't take her. I won't let you."

  Anger flushed beneath his tan. "The judge granted us joint custody. Joint! You had no right to run with her."

  She shrank back from his fury, his thunderous words ringing in her head. Joint custody. No right to run with her. Could it be true?

  "I've spent a fortune to track you down, Camryn. Nice try with the name change, Kate—" he uttered the name with scorn "—but the game is up. I'm taking Arianne."

  "No, no, please," she whispered, her thoughts in a whirl. What he claimed might be true, or might not be. She knew nothing about him. Not even his last name. She couldn't let this stranger take the baby—especially not before she'd checked out his story. "Give me time…"

  "You've had her long enough. It's my turn now."

  Panic pressed in on her as she realized her own weak legal position. If he was the baby's father and had been granted custody, she'd have no legal claim on Arianne … or not much of one.

  But he'd said that Camryn had the right to joint custody.

  And he didn't know Camryn was dead.

  "You can't just take her like this. She doesn't know you," Kate told him, reasoning with a frantic urgency. "She'll be frightened. She needs me."

  "She's my daughter, and she doesn't know me. Whose fault is that?" His eyes blazed; his mouth pulled taut. "I'm taking her. And I'm suing for full custody."

  Kate's lips parted, but no sound emerged. She shook her head in protest, her vision clouding with a sudden blur. Every maternal instinct in her cried out against handing her sweet baby girl over to this angry stranger. Where would he take her? Why did he want her? Again she remembered Camryn's claim that he'd been violent. He certainly seemed to be, the way he'd forced his way into her home and manhandled her. She had to think. Think!

  She forced words through her clenched throat. "Let me bring her in now for supper. She'll be hungry."