Her chest lost some of its tightness. "Not anymore. Colt, until yesterday, I thought Clara was dead."
His eyes widened and he scooted his seat back a little. She stayed still. Then he shook his head. "Bull. You didn't care and gave her away, signing my name on those papers like I consented. I fought for a year that my signature was forged to get child services off my back."
"I didn't forge anything. I wouldn't do that." She had to say the right words. She swallowed. She had to get him to believe her. She kept eye contact and leaned over the table. "You were off fighting battles in war. You weren't here, and I don't know what happened—"
He leaned closer to her on the table. "My mother found our daughter in the hospital, and you never went to the nursery."
Her jaw ticked. "And you slept with the brunette the day you met in basic training."
"That's the stupidest thing I heard. All I could think about at the time was you."
Her defense system needed serious work. She needed the story of how he'd ended up with Clara. Vicki had to be there for her daughter too. She blinked and met his gaze. "The doctors told me she died. How did your mother find Clara?"
He sipped his coffee and then massaged his chin. "She worked at the hospital. Someone tried to change her schedule. She didn't want to change, and switched with another nurse. Our daughter was brought into the nursery. She was told who the mother was, and called me at boot camp."
She crossed her arms. "That story has massive holes, Colt. I would never give up my daughter."
He sat straighter. "You did whatever your father asked of you."
"Never that.” Again, he leaned forward, and his open unblinking stare made her believe that he didn't believe a word. She swallowed. "Why did he call this meeting?"
His cheeks reddened. "Alice believes every word you fed her, and she begged me." Then he scooted away again. She lowered her gaze. He said, "You walked away from our daughter. You said you were dead, and then you return to Miami as some long-lost princess. So don't give me this act, expecting me to believe a word you say."
"It's not an act." Tears rolled down her cheek. Her own father had staged her funeral and let people believe she had died rather than explain she had run away from him. When she had found out, she had saw no reason to correct anyone. She’d been sad. She blinked. Now she didn't need to fight with Colt, but if this was all he could say, then she'd have to hire a team of lawyers. "I thought she was dead."
He massaged his chin again, and his lips curled. "Why didn't you pick up the phone and tell me you were pregnant?"
Her entire body heated. "You were sleeping with another woman."
"That's the second time you've said that nonsense." His Adam's apple bobbed. "You had years to tell me. My family isn't poor, and neither is yours. You weren't knocked up by a no one, Vicki."
Her head cleared. "I'm thankful she had you."
He gazed at her forehead. "Clara's my daughter, my responsibility. You shouldn't get to walk back into her life, throw happy smiles, and pretend you're glad to see her. Not when we both know in six months or in a day, you'll grow bored of her and leave."
"I'm not like that." She raised her head and remembered how she'd made her point with him years ago, even as he lost. She stuck her bottom lip out and stared at his lips. "Colt, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I'd rather be on your side, but I will sue you. My brother Peter will fund me. Can you let this go or not?"
He wrinkled his nose and stared into her eyes. "You would throw money at me like it matters."
"I don't want to fight with you." She ran her hands through her hair, as her spirits soared. She didn't dare let him see that she wasn't upset. She kept her entire body still, and lowered her gaze. Then she reached out and grabbed his hand. "Please, Colt. I want to know my daughter. Think what you want of me, but I'd never hurt her. I was a stupid teenage girl, but that's not who I am anymore."
She peeked through her eyelashes and he stayed quiet. He hadn't stormed off, but his gaze appeared cold and dead. "I must be stupid."
Her heart leapt out of his chest. She swallowed and refused to get ahead of herself. "Colt, I should have run to you when I found out I was pregnant. You always gave off this protective feeling in my heart. Not following that is how I let my father win."
He crossed his arms, and his succulent brown eyes beckoned her. She sucked in her bottom lip as he told her, "I can't ever let anyone hurt Clara."
She nodded. "I'd never hurt her."
He rubbed his forehead and nodded back at her. "If you're telling me the truth, then it's wrong if I fight you. But I don't know if I trust you either."
Her lips parted, though she didn't say anything at first. "Please, Colt. I want my daughter."
"She's never had or needed her mother. She has her family, her roots. And I'm getting married in a few weeks."
Colt's marriage sounded like a bad dream. Vicki shifted in her seat. "You can't expect me to walk away, not if I know she's alive."
"Even if it's for the best? You couldn't let your daughter live the only life she's ever known."
"If our situations were reversed, would you walk away if you found out you had a daughter after being told she died?"
His scratched his chin. "No."
"Good." She pushed her hair behind her ears. "Then don't expect that of me."
He dropped his arms to his side. "Yet my job is to protect our daughter."
"Ours is the right word." She sipped her drink to try to seem normal. "I'm not out to hurt her. Not having a mother is worse. I never knew mine, and the wondering still haunts me."
"I don't know about that." He rubbed his neck, and his gaze grew softer. "I'll need you to prove your claim."
Her stomach went hard as rocks. "How?"
He sipped his coffee and opened his hand on the table, palm up. "Let's try this out. We'll pretend you're the babysitter for a while. I needed to hire one, and Clara knows I'm picking someone out until school starts."
Vicki's feet rocked under the table. "I'm her mother. I'll change my schedule at work and be there."
His sexy brown eyes didn't blink. "You don't understand."
"Understand what?"
He stared at her, and the intensity made her stomach churn. Then he took a deep breath. "You're not to tell Clara you're her mother. Not yet. Not until I'm sure she's safe from you."
Her mouth fell open again. "That's not fair."
He stayed absolutely still. "It's the best deal I can offer. I want to trust you, but I need to be sure you won't hurt her."
Her ears thrashed with her heartbeat. "When do we tell her about me?"
He swallowed. "When I say so."
She chewed her bottom lip. Colt was giving her a chance to know Clara, without a legal nightmare. Vicki nodded. "Okay."
He unfolded his hands on the table. "Can you come to the house tomorrow and stay for the day?"
"Yes." Her smile could not be stopped, and so what if her laugh had tears of joy in it? "I can come tomorrow." She threw caution to the wind, stood, walked around the table, and hugged his shoulders. He still smelled of oak with a hint of orange, but all manly testosterone. A moment later, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her. Heat rushed through her. Her shoulders were less tense, until he let her go. Then she adjusted her shirt and straightened her spine. "I'm sorry."
Her cheeks heated, and she feared her face went red. She stilled.
He pressed his hands in his pockets. "That's how we created Clara, with you hugging me. None of those tricks will work now."
"It was more than a hug, Colt." Her eyes narrowed, and she let her shoulders relax now.
His body tensed. "Talking about this is a bad move."
"You're right. I'm happy you're giving me a chance."
He reached for his wallet and found a business card. Without a word, he handed it to her. She read it. "I remember where you live."
His shoulders tightened and he tugged at his ear. "Come in the morning. Cl
ara will be up, anxious to meet her new sitter."
Tomorrow was too far away. She took a deep breath. She'd learn patience, and in the meantime, she had her way into the house and to her daughter. Her heart soared. "Who is watching her now?"
"The same person who protected her for years—her grandmother. My parents are going condo hunting this weekend, and won't be back home for a while." He fixed his shirt and stood to leave. "Don't disappoint Clara. She's a good girl."
She'd prove to him and herself that family mattered to her. He held open the café door for her. This plan of his was a start. Colt Collins would be wowed with how amazing Vicki and Clara were together. He wouldn't know what hit him. No one was going to tear her away from her daughter again. She'd have her family back.
CHAPTER FOUR
Six thirty in the morning might be too early.
Victoria walked on the sidewalk as the sprinklers took care of the complex lawns. She jumped out of the way of the water, but nothing could stop her. Today she spoke to her daughter. Her throat barely contained a few giggles.
She hopped in her car with her backpack full of memories to show Colt. Sonograms, her diary with unsent letters, the pictures she had of him at boot camp, hospital records, the death certificate she'd received, and the baby video she'd made during her pregnancy had all come out of the closet last night. When she hit the main road down south toward Homestead, she left the ocean and Collins Avenue and headed toward the turnpike. Homestead was a drive, but this early there would be no traffic.
Possibly. In Miami, anything might be on the road.
As the scenery changed to more farm areas, she sang along with the radio.
In her bag, she reached in and squeezed the stuffed teddy bear she'd bought. With luck, Clara wasn't too big.
Her head bopped to the music as she passed the sign for the exits she hadn't seen since high school. Life was simple then. She hopped off the expressway. If she stopped at a coffee shop and bought him a Café Cubano, Colt might appreciate her gesture.
And she'd slow down to give them time to wake up.
At six fifty, she turned off the engine in his driveway and stared at the coffee and her digital clock. She never drove fast. How did she get here this quickly? Colt had let her come without a fight, but the lights weren't on inside the house.
She'd have to wait, but wasn't sure if she stayed in the car or sat on his porch.
She bit her lower lip and stared at the screened-in porch. With a roll to her shoulder, she unlocked the door and slipped out. She stared at the window and then lights came on. Colt must be awake. She gulped and stepped forward, but her heels sank into the mud. She closed her eyes and tried to shake her Prada shoes free. Her calves moved fine, and she tried to lift her toes to take another step, but the next step had the same problem. She was stuck.
She winced. He lived on a farm. She should have worn sneakers.
"You never learned."
Her ears heated just as her face did. She turned and gazed at Colt as he leaned against the door. Every cell in her body came alive as he sauntered over to her. His muscles blocked the moon setting in the distance as he came closer, and he set off a furnace inside of her. Colt reached around her waist and picked her up. Heat rose in her body, even as she lost her high heels to the mud. He ran his hands up her thigh, but then he dropped her on his front step. She rocked on her bare feet and held tightly to the two cups of coffee she had.
"Colt, thank you." She fixed her blouse and wobbled to balance on her naked feet. He reached her back and anchored her. She almost tipped over, then met his eyes. "I'd like my shoes back."
With a roll of his eyes, he left her on the porch and proceeded to retrieve the heels. Instead of handing them to her, he threw the muddied Pradas without care on his front porch. She took a step toward them, but he called out, "Get them later. You're not bringing that mess into my house."
Prada deserved better care. She inhaled to not make a scene, and then handed him the small cup of coffee. His eyebrows arched. She nodded at him, and he stared at the drink in his hands, his cheeks reddening. "Thank you."
Good. Surprise elements of kindness used to score her points with him, and it seemed it still worked. She sucked in her breath and tried to keep the conversation light as they walked through the door. The house was different than his mother's country style. With no paintings or floral accents, Colt went minimalistic and modern. "Where do you parents live these days?"
As he took a few steps closer, he lowered his gaze. "In a condo on the beach and Los Olas, but they are looking for something with senior activities. Mom and Dad need to relax, and gave me the place to raise Clara in a home."
The air smelled of oak trees and oranges again. He came closer to her, inches from her face, and she stepped away. The overwhelming sense of home invaded her every muscle.
Without a word, he passed her and walked into the kitchen area to turn on the sink. She pursed her lips, and he lifted his hands to show the mud on him. Then he washed his hands, though his gaze went to her legs. She squirmed, looked down, and her nose wrinkled as she realized her legs had the same mud. His brown eyes that stared at her left her breathless until he turned off the water. Then he said, "I expected you later in the morning. Don't princesses normally sleep half the morning?"
"When you called me that in high school, you didn't sound bitter." In a fast swallow, she stopped. She closed her eyes and reminded herself to be sweet. Today would go well. She blinked and opened her eyes, but stared at the ground. He stood still, and she shrugged. "I couldn't sleep at all, Colt. Is she up?"
As he walked around the kitchen counter and came toward her, he shook his head. "No. Clara gets up at seven."
Another whiff of oranges and oak trees. She licked her lips. "Is there some place I can clean up?"
Vicki saw a spark of the gentle guy he'd been before the Marines turned him into pure muscle. "Of course. The guest bathroom is this way."
He walked with purpose. The man raised his daughter with strict rules. At the door to the bathroom, she offered him a small smile, and asked, "Can I make us breakfast, then?"
His eyes widened, and she swore she saw fright. Then he opened the door for her. "You're going to cook?"
She stayed next to him. "Yes. I can cook for myself and others."
His shrugged, though his eyes betrayed how surprised he was. "I'm terrified. Go ahead. Get started and I'll grab a fast shower. Just don't forget you're the sitter."
"Of course." She grabbed his arm as he brushed past her. He stilled, and she tilted her head. "Thank you for agreeing to this start."
She leaned closer to Colt's strong jawline. He stepped away. "Clara's stubborn as a mule when it comes to getting what she wants. Don't think of hurting my little girl."
With a smile, she raised her hand and stroked his arm. "I won't. I'm glad she has you watching out for her. Whatever lucky star she was born under didn't let her get lost."
As he jumped to get away from her touch, his face darkened. "You can thank my mother for that one. She's the one who stood up for Clara and me that day."
She opened her mouth to defend herself, but the words didn't come out. "How did your mother know?"
"She saw the birth record in the nursery. You listed me as the father."
"I don't remember much. I was half awake, half dreaming during labor. Then the doctor said..."
"You told me. I'm trying here." He nodded at her. "You start breakfast. I'll bring Clara down. Remember our deal."
At least his mother hadn't done as Mitch Morgan intended. She mirrored his gesture and nodded. "I'm the nanny."
"Right." He walked away, and she stiffened her spine. She needed to steel her courage. Then she rushed into the bathroom to clean her legs. The mud was not a good first impression for her daughter.
A few minutes later, she ran into the kitchen, dropped her pocketbook on the counter, and headed straight for the refrigerator.
She heard his footsteps on the other side
of his ranch house, but she didn't say a word. She gazed up at the loft, and wondered if he used that room as some sort of office.
Vicki took a quick glance at the clock; she had twenty minutes to prepare a feast. She found the potatoes and cut. Her jitters disappeared as she sliced. Her daughter deserved a good, healthy breakfast, and Vicki had been cooking breakfast for years now.
Ease returned to her shoulders. She chopped, and noticed the gorgeous brunette in the picture with Colt on the wall. The woman could be a movie star with those steely blue eyes.
The woman had height and muscles without being at all manly. With another swallow, Vicki assumed she must have been in the Marines, or a farmer, like Colt's family, to have won his heart. It wasn't the same woman from the pictures she was given years ago to prove that Colt would never love her.
A pain ran through her chest, but Vicki shrugged it off. She returned to the stove, shook her head, and stared in the mirror at her short blonde hair. She'd never be good at camping, never mind shooting anything.
Colt would marry someone capable of being in his life. She'd never be any competition for capable. She played music and designed wedding dresses, not fed horses.
With one more check on the pre-made biscuits, as she didn't have time or the ingredients to do it from scratch, Vicki shook off her wayward thoughts. The coldness inside her wasn't good. Colt had every right to get married. He was a hero.
Perhaps she'd find a way to be happy now that Clara was in her life. She'd come here for her daughter, not Colt. No fantasies and what-if questions. With a forced smile, she used her spatula and turned the potatoes in the oil, happy with the dark brown color. Good. Her cheeks no longer burned, either.
"Are you my mother?"
Vicki spun around, surprised, and gazed down at the blonde, blue-eyed angel in her pink cotton pajamas. Vicki almost fell over, as her arms ached to hug her and never let go. Instead she stared into the eyes of her little girl and glued her lips together. If she answered, she'd say yes. Instead she reached out and petted the girl's soft and fine hair. "Are you okay, sweetie?"
Secret Baby (The House of Morgan, #2) Page 4