Michael's Father (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Melinda Curtis

  “Really? But you were just a kid. Your family wouldn’t use you like that.”

  Cori’s voice trembled. “You know nothing about me or this family that my grandfather doesn’t want you to know.”

  “I know they care for you,” he said after a moment. “They’d do anything for you.”

  “That’s so not true.” Cori’s voice shook with such anguish that Blake turned to look at her. Tears gathered in her eyes. “My grandfather supports people that do exactly as he says. Don’t be fooled, Blake. The minute you let him down, he’ll drop you like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  “You can’t believe that. Sure, the old man’s tough, but he wouldn’t treat his own family like that.” Could that be why she’d left? Because she felt as if her grandfather didn’t love her?

  “I’m living proof. I made what he considered a mistake and that was it. No second chances.” She sniffed. “I know my mother and brother love me. But the most important thing in that house is Messina Vineyards and the goals my grandfather sets for it.”

  Had Michael been her mistake? Blake didn’t want to believe that.

  “Have you ever been inside a house that doesn’t have a picture of their children or grandchildren up somewhere? On a mantel? Desk? Refrigerator? There’s not a picture in that house of Mama, Luke, Michael or me. Admit it. You hadn’t heard of Michael’s existence until I showed up with him.”

  Although it was true that Blake hadn’t known Michael was her son and not her boyfriend, he couldn’t admit anything. If he did, he’d have to believe the worst. If Mr. Messina treated his granddaughter so coldly, what hope did Blake have of keeping his job and Jen’s home when his employer learned the truth?

  “YOU WHAT?” Sidney screeched into Cori’s ear.

  Pacing the pink room, Cori grimaced and thumbed the volume on her cell phone down several notches. “I went to breakfast with a wine critic and ran into Abe Monroe.”

  “A wine critic? Why on earth would you do that? You know the details of the contract as well as I do. It’s noncompete, plain and simple.” She exhaled heavily into the telephone. “Never mind. Tell me you talked to Abe.”

  “I talked to him,” Cori allowed. She had dreaded telling Sidney what happened, but she couldn’t put it off. Once Blake and Michael had set off for McDonald’s, Cori had retreated to the pink room to make the call.

  “Oh, that tone in your voice doesn’t reassure me, Cori.”

  Sidney’s tone of voice wasn’t reassuring Cori, either.

  “I didn’t like him. I don’t think his style would mesh with mine.”

  “Damn it, Cori, think of the bottom line,” Sidney huffed. Everything came back to money for Sidney. “I don’t care if you liked him or not. He’s balls-to-the-wall blunt and plays by the rules. He won’t overlook this kind of thing.”

  Cori had to agree with Sidney’s assessment. “No, he probably won’t. He’s new at Bell-Diva and is just looking for a reason to replace us with someone he’s used to working with.”

  “Adam Parker.” Sidney was oddly speechless for several seconds. “Listen, I know you’re going through a tough time. I’ll do what I can, but if we lose this account, I’m going to have to…well, we’ll talk about that later.”

  Cori knew what Sidney was going to have to do. Fire her. She sank into the desk chair. “I’m sorry, Sidney.” Not that it helped the situation, but it made Cori feel better to apologize. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  Cori disconnected the call and cradled her head on her arms, willing herself not to cry—

  “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

  Cori sat bolt upright and turned to face her grandfather. He stood in the doorway, leaning on the door handle. She’d kept the door open in case Mama called her, thinking that everyone else was gone.

  “Trouble at work?”

  Cori drew in a deep, controlling breath. She would not break down in front of him. “Nothing I can’t deal with myself, thanks.”

  He nodded slowly, studying her face. “You work with Bell-Diva?”

  “Yes.” How long she’d be working with them was another story.

  “They import beer?”

  “Six different brands. Nightshade is their current leader.” Pride raised her spirits. She’d done a lot to make that brand popular. If Abe Monroe wanted to play the good ol’ boy network, let him. It was his loss. “I got them a spot on the Today Show. Sales skyrocketed that weekend.”

  “The Today Show. Impressive.” He scratched his chin. “They must be happy to have you on the account.”

  Oh, yeah. They were really happy with her. Cori looked out the window.

  “Lots of companies would be happy to have you on their team,” he said evenly.

  Cori snapped her gaze back to her grandfather, but he’d already turned and started walking away. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to hold the unexpected compliment close to her heart.

  MICHAEL SUCKED THE SALT off his french fries while Blake watched. The kid smiled up at him. No doubt, the little manipulator was happy things had gone his way. He’d just spent ten minutes climbing, sliding and lobbing balls at other kids in the playland. Despite Blake’s brutal criticism last night, he did believe Michael was bright. He just lacked a father’s influence.

  The little guy wasn’t so bad as long as he was occupied. During the twenty minute ride south to Santa Rosa, Michael had babbled on and on about bugs, playing soccer, and his friends at preschool, sharing their adventures in a disjointed way that made Blake’s head spin in confusion. Jennifer had never been so talkative.

  “Mister?”

  It took a moment for Blake to realize Michael was talking to him, calling his father “mister,” as if he were a stranger.

  The boy wrapped his sticky fingers around Blake’s forearm, his brown eyes earnest. “Do you have a daddy?”

  An image of Kevin Austin, smiling, brown hair shining above golden hay fields came to mind. Blake’s adopted father had won Blake’s love and respect and instilled in Blake a love of the land. And Blake hadn’t been an easy sell for a new father. He remembered how Kevin had waited out the outbursts of an insecure teen who was afraid his mother wanted to replace him in her heart with her new husband. His parents had been gone for eight years, and Blake had yet to fill the hole their absence created in his heart.

  Blake shook his head, driving away the unexpected tears. The little guy let go, leaving wet fingerprints on Blake’s arm. If Blake flexed his fingers, he could feel the warm imprint of his son’s hand on his skin. His breath caught in his throat.

  “Me, neither.” The boy sighed dramatically, rubbing the hair at the back of his head until it stuck straight up. “Mom says we can’t have one. What do you think?”

  Blake imagined the kid’s tone was the same one he used when diplomatically trying not to ask for an ice cream. Rather than feeling his usual irritation and anger at the boy, Blake now felt pride, and almost smiled. Michael was a bright kid when he wasn’t demolishing things.

  “I’d like to have one.” Michael picked up a french fry carefully, avoiding looking at Blake directly.

  Blake chuckled, surprised at the unexpected way Michael had charmed him. He was heartened, too, that Cori hadn’t been considering other men as father material.

  “My mom used to tell me we couldn’t have a puppy,” Blake whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer. It was an ancient memory of his life. “But my dad found me one, anyway.”

  “Oh.” The boy’s eyes grew wide. “I can’t have one until I’m five. Mommy is saving for a yard. She says we can have one when I’m five.”

  “A yard?”

  “Puppies need yards, not ’partments.”

  Somehow Blake hadn’t pictured Cori living in an apartment, although maybe it was something trendy and fashionable. Of course, that had to be it.

  “Mommy and I share a room while we save.” He popped a bite of pancake in his mouth, not that it s
topped him from talking. “She has a regular bed. My bed’s a race car.”

  Blake couldn’t believe Cori lived in a one-bedroom apartment. And yet, it made sense, with what Blake had heard about the cost of living in Los Angeles and what he’d seen of Cori’s lifestyle. An old, dented car, suitcases that weren’t designer, her concern over keeping a steady paycheck.

  None of which boded well for Blake’s future at Messina Vineyards when Mr. Messina learned the truth.

  JENNIFER ENJOYED THE small fair held at the plaza in downtown Healdsburg. Her stomach still hurt, but not near as bad as it had Friday night. The plaza was filled with booths offering food and local crafts. The sun sparkled, doing its best to chase away the morning fog.

  Blake had invited Michael for some wild reason, and Cori had insisted on coming along, too, muttering something about controlling breakage, since Luke had offered to stay at home with Sophia. Their coming would have pissed Jen off more if Blake and Cori actually talked to each other. The last thing she wanted to discover was that Blake had a crush on Cori. Luckily, Michael wasn’t whining, for once, and Blake wasn’t treating Jen like a child. Cori spent a lot of time walking apart from them.

  Feeling attractive in her white shorts and ice-blue T-shirt, Jennifer laughed louder than usual at Blake’s jokes and even let little Michael hold her hand once, all the while looking for Skyler.

  Skyler thought she was cute.

  After a soda, a hot dog with the works and a cotton candy, Jennifer wasn’t feeling so good. She pulled her hand away from Michael when he tried to slip his sticky fingers into her palm, and complained to Blake.

  “My stomach hurts.” This was different from the discomfort she lived with every day. This was a fist squeezing her abdomen.

  “I’m not surprised, after what you’ve been chowing down on.” Blake smiled as if he didn’t truly believe her stomach hurt.

  “How about a water?” Cori suggested, pointing to a vendor ahead.

  Jennifer appreciated the sympathetic tone, and accepted the offer. It was nice to have someone nurture her, she decided, even if it was Cori. Since she still had Cori’s earrings, Jen couldn’t quite look her in the eye.

  A little while later, Jennifer complained again. “My stomach still hurts.”

  Blake felt her forehead. “Not hot.”

  “Maybe we should sit down and rest a minute.” Cori came through again, pointing out a bench behind a row of booths.

  So they sat. Michael played hopelessly with a yo-yo Cori had bought him. It was a sparkly red one that the boy just had to have. Unfortunately, Michael lacked the coordination needed to snap the thing back once he’d thrown it out, so someone—usually Blake—wound it up for him every time. Jennifer shifted on the bench, trying to get comfortable and not succeeding. She felt like she needed to go to the bathroom.

  “Maybe we should leave,” Cori suggested, looking at Jennifer closely.

  “Not yet,” Jen said. She hadn’t even seen Skyler.

  “It’s been over an hour. I’m sure Luke is champing at the bit,” Blake conceded, looking in the direction of his truck, nearly half a mile back through town. “If he’s still there,” he added under his breath.

  “He’ll be there.” Cori came to her brother’s defense, but Jennifer noted she didn’t look all that confident.

  Jennifer had been around the Messinas long enough to know that anything work-related took precedence over family matters.

  Blake started down the sidewalk. Jennifer and Cori stood to follow. Michael sat at the end of the bench.

  “Red,” Michael said.

  Jennifer turned to look back at him. “Yeah, your yo-yo is red. Come on. Let’s go.” The kid wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree.

  “So’re you.” And the little brat pointed toward Jennifer’s butt.

  “What?” Jennifer turned and attempted to look at her behind, but she couldn’t see anything past her hips.

  “Red,” Michael repeated.

  Blake came back a few steps.

  “Did I sit in something?” Jennifer demanded angrily, turning her back on Cori and Blake. The shorts were new and they were white to boot. She never should have sat on that stinking bench.

  Cori gasped. Blake’s face flushed.

  “What?” Jennifer had a sinking suspicion the news wasn’t going to be good.

  “She hasn’t started…” Cori looked at Blake.

  “Not that I know of.” Blake looked uncomfortable.

  “Please tell me this isn’t happening to me,” Jennifer pleaded. Lacking any other way to cover herself, she retreated to the bench. What a way to cross the bridge between being a child and a woman. Other girls waited expectantly for their period, and Jen had thought she had indigestion.

  “The important thing is to get her home.” Cori took charge just like a Messina. “Why don’t you bring the truck around and pick us up over there?” Cori gestured to the road a block behind them.

  “Hurry,” Jennifer pleaded, watching Blake walk away. She hid her head in her hands, unable to face Cori. She’d never be able to look Blake in the eyes again. I started my period in public. In front of Cori. In front of Blake. She groaned. “I cannot believe this is happening to me.”

  “I guess you’ve learned that there is a risk to wearing white shorts.” Cori pulled Michael up into her lap.

  Jennifer glared at her, but Cori only shrugged. “Best silver lining I can come up with on short notice.”

  “She’s red like my yo-yo,” Michael observed with an innocent smile at Jennifer.

  “Shut up,” Jen snapped.

  “Jen,” Cori admonished her. “Be grateful he pointed it out before you walked into a group of your friends.”

  As if on cue, a large group of junior high school kids walked across the street toward the bench where they sat. It was a rare mix of popular and borderline-popular kids, including Shelly and Skyler. Jen crossed her legs tightly in front of her. Thank heavens Devon and Ronnie were nowhere to be seen.

  “Hi, Jen. We’re going to walk down the other side of the festival. Want to come?” Shelly asked, then whispered, “Look at Kitty’s hair. She put in highlights.”

  Jennifer looked. Kitty had, indeed, highlighted her hair. Purple highlights. Jen thought she’d choke with envy. Some girls had all the luck. Good luck, that is.

  “No, I…” Jen floundered. What could she say? Skyler was looking right at her. Jen blushed and looked at Cori for help.

  Cori lifted Michael up and onto Jen’s lap. Instead of whining or slipping off, miracle of miracles, he settled against Jen.

  “Sorry,” Cori said with a sunny smile, as if nothing in the world were wrong. “But Jen’s baby-sitting today. Maybe some other time.”

  “JOHN SINCLAIR?” Salvatore’s voice came out gruffer than he would have liked, as if even his vocal cords didn’t want to have this conversation. His words echoed hollowly in his office at Messina Vineyards headquarters.

  “You’ve got him.”

  It was him, all right. Salvatore recognized his cocky tone of voice.

  His heart sank. He’d been dreading this conversation with his former son-in-law, but Sophia had scared him this weekend. Her request wouldn’t let him sleep. Finally, he’d risen with the dawn, found John’s telephone number and sought the privacy he couldn’t be assured of at home.

  “This is Salvatore Messina.”

  “What’s up, old man? I’m pretty busy. So many women, so little time. Ain’t that right, baby?”

  A feminine voice cooed in the background.

  “I’ll get right to the point.” Before Salvatore hung up the phone in disgust. “My daughter wants to see you.”

  “After all this time she’s come to her senses?”

  How Salvatore hated this man. “No. She’s dying.”

  That shut him up. The ticking pendulum of the cuckoo clock Salvatore had purchased on a trip to Germany last year filled the silence on Salvatore’s end.

  “Well?”

  “I c
an be on the next plane if you buy me a first-class round-trip ticket and wire me ten thousand dollars.”

  “What?” He didn’t have the money to spare and wouldn’t give that much to John Sinclair, anyway. “Have you no shame?”

  “Have you forgotten, old man? I may make deals with the devil, but I don’t bargain.”

  Salvatore listened to the dial tone long after John hung up on him. There had to be a way around the man’s price.

  JEN SNUCK INTO THE pink bedroom after school on Monday. Her tennis shoes dragged on the thick pink carpet as she walked toward the desk. The diamond earrings burned in her pocket. She needed to return them.

  Cori had bought Jen a variety of items for her period, including a book about the changes that were happening to her body. The book even said that some girls didn’t develop breasts before they got their periods. She was normal. What a relief.

  If she didn’t return the earrings, they’d likely land her in trouble. She couldn’t repay Cori like that, no matter how much her presence here upset Jen.

  She stopped in front of the desk and pulled the earrings out of her pocket. They were awesome pieces of jewelry, and she felt grown-up wearing them. Although they hadn’t helped today with Skyler. He’d passed her twice in the hall and said nothing more than a reserved “hi.”

  With a sigh, Jen set them on the desk next to a blue baby book. She’d been in the room several times, but had never seen the book before. Because Jen didn’t want to leave the earrings just yet, she flipped open the baby book about midway. It wasn’t like you needed to start from the beginning with one of those things.

  Yuck. A lock of blond hair. What looked like fingernail clippings. Something black and shriveled in a plastic bag. Jen closed the book so fast it tumbled to the floor, landing with the first page open.

  Mother: Cori Sinclair.

  Father: Blake Austin.

  Jen’s stomach rolled. The brat was Blake’s? That couldn’t be. The kid was so…so…irritating. Besides, Blake would have told her something like that, wouldn’t he?

  Jen recalled all the parenting books she’d seen around the house lately and the way Blake seemed unable to look her in the eye. Jen’s stomach knotted further. Blake was studying to be a parent to that thing. And Blake could barely stand Jen anymore. What was going to happen to her?