Leaning forward, he captured her lips with his. Her arms slid around his neck and he pulled her up against him as his tongue enticed hers and he kissed her down to her toes. When he finally pulled back, they both were breathing heavily. “Do you believe that? Do you feel that with Adrian?”
He almost thought he’d won when a glimmer of a smile filled her beautiful eyes. “You know I don’t, Max. At least, I don’t think I do. The man hasn’t kissed me since I’ve been out of the hospital, but I can’t imagine he would affect me like you do.”
They looked at each other, Max sharing with her the astonishment he felt each time they touched. It had never been this way before, with any woman. Only Caroline.
“But that doesn’t make it impossible that I might have slept with him before.”
“Before you slept with me?”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. “Max, if the picture is the truth, then I hadn’t slept with you until today.”
“Then that picture is a damned lie!”
She reached out and smoothed his ferocious frown with her fingertips. “I want it to be, Max, but I don’t see how—”
“I want to see it.”
“I don’t have it. It got ripped and Adrian took it to have it repaired.”
Max noted that she was avoiding his gaze. He pulled her chin back around. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
She hesitated and then said, “He was extremely reluctant to leave the picture with me.” Before he could speak, she added, “But that’s just an impression. It isn’t proof.”
He shoved himself away from the chair and stood. “And that’s what you have to have, isn’t it? Proof. My word means nothing. My touch that drives you crazy means nothing. You have to have proof!” He made the last word sound like something dirty. And it was. Because without proof, she wouldn’t believe him.
“Max! I can’t go on my instincts. There’s more involved here. He may be the father of my child! I can’t just tell my child someday that I don’t know who his father is. That I wanted to be with you, so I ignored the truth.”
He stared at her, unable to deny the pleading in her gaze. Reaching out, he caressed her cheek briefly. Even that small touch set his blood racing. He stepped back, breaking contact with her.
“Okay. I’m trying to understand. Just give me a little time, and I’ll find my own proof somehow.”
He thought he was being magnanimous, exhibiting incredible patience, when what he wanted to do was punch out Adrian. Or anyone else who got in his way.
One look at Caroline’s face as she sank back down into the chair, and he knew she wasn’t impressed.
“Max—” She broke off and looked away.
“Spit it out, Caroline. If you want me to get lost, just say so.” His heart would break if she did.
She leaped to her feet and then almost passed out. He clutched her and held her against him, hoping and praying it wouldn’t be for the last time.
“Well?”
“No, Max, I don’t want you to get lost. The thought of not seeing you again—”
“Then what is it? What were you going to say?”
“I—I can’t give you much time.”
“Why? What are you saying?”
“I promised my father I’d marry the father of my baby as soon as we found proof.”
“And you always keep your word,” he muttered, rubbing her back, imprinting the feel of her in his heart.
She buried her face in his neck even as she nodded.
“How long do I have before you marry this jerk?”
He waited tensely for her to answer. When she said nothing, he wondered if she’d heard the question. Finally she lifted her head and stared up at him, tears in her eyes.
“Three days. The wedding is in three days.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“THREE DAYS?” Max repeated, drawing back to stare at her. Anger rose within him. “How could you agree to such a thing?”
She stiffened, the tears disappearing. “I had no choice, Max. I’ve embarrassed my parents enough as it is.”
“A little embarrassment is more important than the truth?”
“Max Daniels, the least you can do is understand! I can’t help it if I can’t remember. I don’t know who’s telling the truth. But Adrian came up with proof.”
“Probably manufactured. How about a lie detector test? How about if Adrian and I take lie detector tests?”
“I doubt that Adrian would agree,” Caroline said, her anger leaving her like a deflated balloon.
“I doubt it, too. Since he’s won.”
She said nothing, but the sadness in her eyes cut him to the quick.
“You’re really going to go ahead with it?”
“I have no choice…unless something turns up that says he’s lying.”
His heart aching, Max stepped to her side. He had to touch her one more time. Pulling her to him, his lips took hers until both almost forgot he was saying goodbye. When he finally released her, he stepped back and said, “I’m not giving up, Caroline. That’s my baby. I’ll find a way to prove it to you.”
Then he walked out of the house before he was tempted to carry her up the stairs to the nearest bed in a desperate attempt to convince her. Slamming himself into his truck, he burned rubber down the driveway.
Only as he headed back home did he calm down enough to think. She would marry that jerk Adrian unless someone found proof the man was lying.
Someone.
Who?
Him, of course. No one cared more than he did. It was up to him, Max Daniels, to find proof. Great relief filled him as he realized there must be something he could do.
His bubble burst when the next question occurred to him.
What?
What could he do?
He pulled to the side of the road. He had to figure out what to do and fast. There wasn’t much time. He remembered reading an article in the paper recently about a private investigator. If he could remember the man’s name, he’d call him. He pulled back onto the road and then off again when he reached the nearest gas station.
“Do you have a telephone directory, the yellow pages?” he asked the attendant.
The man readily handed over the thick book and Max thumbed through the listings.
“Damn! I’d better get help. I can’t even find a telephone number,” he muttered.
“What you lookin’ for?” the attendant asked.
“A private investigator, but there aren’t any listed.”
“Sure there are. Look under ‘detective.’”
Max briefly wondered why a gas station attendant would so readily know how to find such a listing. Then he dismissed that idea as he found the names of several detective agencies. He recognized the man’s agency and wrote down the number on the back of an envelope he found in his pocket.
“Do you have a—” he began as he closed the book.
Divining his question, the man pointed to the telephone on the desk. “Use that one if it’s local.”
Much to Max’s surprise, he received an immediate appointment with the detective in question. Getting directions, he rushed for his truck after thanking the gas station attendant.
The detective’s office was modest but neat, nothing like the offices Hollywood always depicted. A sedate, middle-age woman greeted him and then announced his arrival to Don Knowles, the detective.
“Come in, Mr. Daniels. Have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind.”
After his eager rush to reach the man, Max found it difficult to explain his needs. The detective wasn’t the problem. Like the receptionist, he was calm, quiet, middle-aged, redolent of respectability.
“It’s difficult to explain.”
“Just start at the beginning.”
“A little over two months ago, I met a woman. Caroline Adkins.” Max noted that the detective seemed to recognize the nam
e. “We dated for two weeks. Then, one night at my house, we, uh, we got carried away.”
Mr. Knowles didn’t seem to need any amplification of that statement.
“She disappeared the next day.”
“And you want me to find her?”
“No. I’ve found her. A week ago, I discovered she is the daughter of James Adkins.”
“I thought so.”
Max licked his lips. The story got a little more difficult to explain now. “Her name was given on the radio because she was in the hospital from an accident. She hit her head on the windshield and got amnesia.” He shifted in his chair. “We all discovered at the same time that she is two months’ pregnant.”
The detective’s eyebrows soared over his calm brown eyes.
“And three of us said, at the same time, that we were the father of her baby.” Max paused, thinking about what he’d said. “I don’t know if I said that correctly, but do you understand?”
“Yeah, I think I get the gist of it. You want me to find out who’s the father?”
“No. I already know that. I’m the father. The other two both work for her father. They’ve got a lot at stake. Caroline and I eliminated one of them by his own admission. But the other one—he’s come up with proof that he and Caroline were in Vegas the two weeks I know she was with me.”
“What kind of proof?”
“A photo, taken by one of the professional photographers who roam the clubs. It’s dated June 29.”
Don Knowles leaned back in his chair. “Well, I think I’ve finally figured out what you want. You want me to prove the man is lying.”
“Exactly. There are a couple of catches, however,” Max added, wanting the man to understand the challenge he was giving him. “I don’t have the photo, and I haven’t seen it. And you only have three days.”
CAROLINE FOUGHT HER WAY out of a deep sleep, something urging her to consciousness. Perhaps it was her stomach, but she had learned her lesson. She reached for the crackers and carbonated water Mrs. Lamb had begun leaving beside her bed every evening.
When she got her stomach under control, she turned her thoughts to the events of the previous day. After Max’s departure, she’d had to deal with her parents’ return and numerous questions.
Not about Adrian’s revelation.
Her parents accepted the photograph as valid proof that she had been in Las Vegas with Adrian. And that he was the father of her baby.
She understood why her father wanted her to marry Adrian. And maybe it was guilt that kept her from refusing. Her father had counted on her to succeed him in the business. He’d brought her into the office right out of college, given her a lot of responsibility, shown absolute faith in her.
And two years ago, she’d walked out on him.
It had hurt to displease her father. She loved him. But she hadn’t been happy working in the large corporation. The creative side of her was dying. She’d returned to school to get a degree in interior design.
Her father had never really forgiven her. Then he’d come up with the plan to marry her to someone who could take over the company. That’s when he’d begun promoting Adrian and Prescott. At least, she thought so.
Between hating to disappoint her father a second time, and fearing that Adrian might be the baby’s father, she couldn’t simply dismiss her promise. Her child had the right to at least know his father, to bear his name. Even if it was Adrian’s.
So she understood why her father was pleased that Adrian claimed to be the father. And her parents’ questions were about flowers, dresses, invitation list, preference of colors, and other inane questions that drove Caroline wild. How could she consider such ridiculous things when she was concerned with who the groom would be?
Without conscious thought, she wandered over to her closet. The dress wouldn’t be there, Adrian had told her, because she’d thrown it out. But something about that dress bothered her.
She stared at the dual row of clothing, mulling over the picture in her mind. It finally struck her. There wasn’t a single brown dress in her closet.
Not a single one.
Blue dominated the colors, a clear, bright blue. There were some reds, a couple of hot pinks, lots of shades of purple, an occasional green. Both white and black.
But no beiges, no browns, no yellows.
She turned to the phone and called down to Mrs. Lamb, asking for a breakfast tray. Slipping back into bed, with pillows propped behind her, Caroline waited.
When the housekeeper arrived, Caroline asked her to sit down and keep her company. “Mrs. Lamb, I’ve been looking at my wardrobe. I seem to like bright colors.”
“Oh, my stars, yes, Caroline. You always pick bright colors. Chelsea likes pastels, but not you.”
“Do I ever wear brown?”
“Only when you were in the Brownies,” Mrs. Lamb said, chuckling. “I swear you quit because of the color of the uniform. I tried to persuade you to stay until you became a Girl Scout and could wear green, but you were stubborn, even then.”
“So I never wear brown,” Caroline muttered to herself.
“What is it, dear? Has something happened?”
“Do you know anything about photography, Mrs. Lamb?”
The lady stared at her. “Photography?”
“I know it doesn’t seem connected to brown, but it is. Adrian showed me a picture yesterday of the two of us in Las Vegas, supposedly during those two weeks I was missing.”
Realization dawned on Mrs. Lamb’s face. “So that’s why your parents are planning your wedding with him.”
“Yes. But, Lambie, I was wearing a brown dress.”
“Oh, my stars, that’s impossible! You don’t own a brown dress!”
“Adrian said I bought it for the trip and then threw it away after the waiter spilled wine on it.” Mrs. Lamb’s face reflected Caroline’s own feelings. “It sounds rather convenient, doesn’t it?”
“You think the picture is a fake?”
Caroline leaned back against her pillows and sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s possible, because it was certainly my face.”
“Of course it’s possible. Why, those scandal sheets do things like that all the time.”
“They do? Yes, I guess they do. I hadn’t thought about it. I was so shocked—you’re right. The picture is obviously a fake. And that’s why he didn’t want me to keep it.”
“You don’t have the picture?”
“No, he insisted on taking it with him.” How she wished she’d been able to keep the picture.
“What are you going to do?”
Caroline set aside the tray and slid from the bed. “I’m going to find a way to prove Adrian is lying!”
After Mrs. Lamb took the tray and returned to the kitchen, Caroline picked up the phone and called her father’s secretary. In minutes, she had the name of the security firm her father used.
She only had to give her name to be immediately put through to the head of the firm, Joe Perkins.
“Mr. Perkins, I have a personal job for you. Money is no object, but speed is.”
When she finished the conversation, Caroline felt much better. After a quick shower, she searched her closet for an outfit that would allow for her gently swelling figure. It was too soon to be wearing maternity clothes, like Chelsea, but her own clothes were becoming a little uncomfortable.
Just as she was finishing buttoning her blouse, her mother knocked on the door.
“Oh, you’re already up. Good. Chelsea can be ready at one for our shopping trip, so I suggested she come here at noon and dine with us. Before she arrives, we had better make some decisions. Otherwise Chelsea will want to offer her opinion.”
Caroline noticed that her mother had a clipboard and appeared incredibly efficient, unlike her usual distant figure. Was this how she operated at the charities? No wonder she was so involved.
“Uh, Mother, I have to go out.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re planning a wedding. B
esides, where would you go?”
“I have an appointment that’s urgent. I’ll try to be back by noon.”
“But it’s ten-thirty already. We haven’t even chosen your colors.” Amelia looked horrified at such a lapse.
“I love blue. See, that decision is already made.” Caroline ran a brush through her hair, added a touch of powder to her nose and turned to leave the room.
“Neiman’s is going to show us what they have in gowns already in stock this afternoon. Mrs. Mason is pulling your size.”
Caroline thought of the tightness of her clothes. “Better ask her to pull a size larger, Mother. I’m not a size eight anymore.”
“Perhaps you should diet.”
With a laugh, Caroline kissed her mother’s cheek. “I don’t think so. Pregnant ladies shouldn’t diet.”
“Oh, I forgot.”
“Then you’re not embarrassed that I’m already expecting a child before my wedding?” Caroline asked the question lightly, but she waited anxiously for her mother’s response.
“Of course not.”
“Thanks, Mother. Oh, I need a recent picture of me. Do I have any?”
“Yes, of course, but I’ve already taken care of the picture to the paper.” She added huffily, “They said they weren’t sure they could use it with such late notice.”
Caroline almost groaned aloud. That’s all she needed, publicity. “No, not for the paper. Where is the picture?”
“In one of the photo albums downstairs.”
“Could you find it for me? I don’t know where the albums are.”
Her mother gave her an exasperated sigh and turned to leave the room, Caroline on her heels. As she walked, she muttered, “Honestly, Caroline, you really should take more interest in things. I’ve showed you those albums a thousand times.”
As she followed her mother downstairs, a thought struck Caroline. Maybe losing one’s memory was hereditary.
JUST A FEW MINUTES before noon, Don Knowles’s secretary buzzed him. “Don, Mr. Perkins is on line one.”
Don grinned as he picked up the phone. He and Joe Perkins were longtime friends and sometimes helped each other out.
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