by Linda Warren
“She is not a Townsend.” Fists clenched, Rob got angrily to his feet. “She—”
“The girl must be crazy,” Martha broke in. “John is in no condition to go through such stress. He’s recovering from a stroke.” She sat next to John Townsend’s wheelchair and rubbed his arm affectionately.
Matthew shrugged. “It’s a simple blood test. As your lawyer I have to say it’s a good offer.”
“You’re not suggesting we do this?” Rob bellowed.
“No, it’s your decision, but it’s the only offer you’ll get from C. J. Doe.”
Rob tapped long fingers against the desk for a moment, then said, “Offer her three million. Money has a way of changing people’s minds.”
“No!” John Townsend shouted.
Everyone looked at him. The single word was the first he’d spoken during the whole meeting. His blue eyes blazed with a strength of old, and he looked like the powerful John Townsend who could melt a man in his boots with just one word. Even though his legs were weak, Matthew had a feeling John’s mind was as sharp as ever.
“Dad, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’re going to take the blood tests.”
“What?”
“Use your head, son. What’s the use of throwing money away when we can end this with a simple test?”
“But, Dad…”
Matthew could see the doubt in Rob’s eyes and there was doubt in John’s eyes, too, but unlike his son he was willing to gamble that C. J. wasn’t a Townsend.
John gazed up at Matthew, his expression fierce. “Let’s get one thing straight, Sloan,” he said. “I want this done discreetly. I don’t want any publicity—in the newspapers, TV or magazines—anywhere.”
“I don’t think she’ll have a problem with that.”
“And even if one of the tests is positive, she will not expect anything from this family.”
Matthew watched the fire in the man’s eyes and had to ask. “If she is a Townsend, can you turn your back on her?”
“In a heartbeat, sir,” he said without hesitation.
Matthew got a glimpse of the ruthlessness that had made this man so powerful. “I see. Okay. I’ll set everything up.”
Martha clutched John’s arm. “You don’t have to do this.”
He shrugged off her hand. “Shut up, Martha.”
For a moment Matthew studied the three people in the room. They had to be the unhappiest people he’d ever met. Just as the old saying had it, money and power really didn’t guarantee happiness. But he wondered why they didn’t seem to have an ounce of feeling for another human being. Victoria Townsend had felt differently. Why? Why was she so generous to C.J.? But it wasn’t his job to solve the mystery between the Townsends and C. J. Doe, he told himself. He was here only to do this job as a courtesy to his dad, then he’d go back to New York and his own world. But the more involved he became with the case, the more it intrigued him.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I’ll get back to you on the place and time.”
“You do that,” Rob said with a curt nod.
Matthew hurried from the room. When he reached the hall, he took a deep breath, trying to dispel the stifling oppressive feeling he’d felt in the Townsend family’s presence.
“DAD, WHY ARE YOU DOING this?” Rob asked a moment after the door closed on Matthew.
“Son, haven’t I taught you anything? When things get rough, play into your opponent’s hand, but always keep an ace up your sleeve.”
Rob shook his head. “What the hell does that mean?”
A wicked smile curved John’s thin lips. “It means we take the tests, but we make sure they come out negative.”
Realization dawned, and a smile spread across Rob’s face.
“Being in high places pays off. You meet people who can help you out in a situation like this,” John told him, a gleam in his old eyes.
Rob watched his father. “Then you’re not sure she’s not yours?”
“Just like you’re not sure she’s not yours.”
The silence grew heavy with tension. John cleared his throat. “You take your love of women after me, son, but we’re not going to let it cost you this election. Understand?”
“Understand.” Rob smiled a secret smile.
John nodded his approval, but he wasn’t through.
“Don’t you think it’s time you got your kids home?”
The smile vanished from Rob’s face. “Don’t start,” he warned.
“Your wife’s falling apart.”
“She’ll adjust.”
“The kids have been gone since the fall. She’s not adjusting. She dresses shabbily, uses foul language and spends all her time with those dogs. She’s not the lady you married.”
“Stay out of this,” Rob warned again. “This doesn’t concern you. Besides, you sent me away to school.”
“It didn’t help your rebellious streak, did it?”
“No,” Rob admitted.
“Then learn from my mistakes, son,” he said. “It took Francine so long to get pregnant. Those kids are extra-special to her.”
“That’s the damn problem,” Rob snapped. “She spoils them. No, they’re staying in school.”
John raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to win this election?” he asked in a low voice.
“Of course I do!”
“Then use your damn head. We need her and her family’s support. The minute the semester is over, get the kids home and spend some time together. Go places—and make sure there’s a photographer along. Plaster those pictures all over Texas. Let everyone see y’all as a loving family.”
At Rob’s hesitation John pointed a shaking finger at him. “If you lose this election, I’ll never forgive you.”
Rob gritted his teeth, then said, “I’ve never done anything to please the great John Townsend. But I’ll win the election and I’ll win in a big way.”
“You’d better,” John told him. “And you’d better get your kids home first.”
Rob inhaled audibly. “I’ll give it some thought,” he promised.
“Good,” John replied, victory in his tone. “Now hand me the phone. It’s time to get rid of the Doe problem.” He laughed harshly. “Never thought the little idiot would make it so easy.”
MATTHEW WALKED QUICKLY down the hall to the foyer and the front door, eager to get back to the office. With any luck this case could be wrapped up in a couple of weeks and he could resume his life in New York. He worried about his mom, though. He couldn’t leave until she was better.
Quietly closing the door, he started down the steps.
“Hello, Matthew.” A silky smooth voice stopped him.
He swung around to find the nurse smiling at him. The white uniform clung to her shapely body, and a ready smile indicated she’d been waiting for him.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked, moving closer to him.
His eyes swept over the blond hair, brown eyes and red red lips. Something about her was familiar but he still couldn’t place her. “Sorry. No, I don’t.”
“Stephanie Cox, the frumpy brown-haired girl you used to let copy your homework.”
“Stephanie Cox,” he echoed in disbelief. Suddenly he recalled the shy overweight girl he’d always felt sorry for. The memory didn’t jibe with the woman standing before him.
“Isn’t it amazing what diet, exercise and makeup can do for a girl?”
He studied her new appearance again. “Yes, it is,” he replied slowly, thinking that peroxide and plastic surgery also had something to do with the changed look. He couldn’t help feeling that he liked the shy plain young girl much better. There was a hardness in this one’s eyes that made him instinctively draw back.
She stepped even closer. Long artificial red nails fingered the lapel of his jacket. Expensive perfume filled his nostrils. “You were always so nice,” she whispered, and batted her long fake eyelashes at him. “Are you still a nice man, Matthew Sloan?”
&nbs
p; “I try to be.”
She batted the eyelashes again. “Why don’t we meet for dinner and discuss old times…and our mutual employer?”
So that was it. She was after information. “Sorry, Stephanie, but I’m really busy. I’m trying to wrap up my dad’s cases before I go back to New York. Besides, I don’t discuss my clients with anyone.”
She was so close now he could feel the heat emanating from her body. “Was that a put-down?” she asked.
“Just the truth,” he answered with a decided effort not to move away from her. Did she really think that cheap look and act appealed to a man? he wondered. Well, maybe a desperate man, he conceded. But it didn’t do a thing for him.
One fingernail traced a blue triangle in his tie, then she smiled suggestively. “I could turn your very busy day into a night you won’t forget.”
“I’ll bet you could, and believe me, I’ll keep it in mind.” He removed her hand from his lapel, returned her smile with a careful one of his own, then headed down the steps.
“Goodbye, Matthew Sloan,” she called after him.
As he climbed into his truck, the air whooshed from his lungs and he realized he’d been holding his breath. What was that all about? Stephanie Cox sure wanted something from him, and it was more than his body. How did she fit into the puzzle of C. J. Doe and the Townsends?
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN MATTHEW GOT BACK to the office, he dialed C.J.’s number, but there was no answer.
Miss Emma poked her head around the door. “You’re due at the courthouse at one o’clock.”
He looked at his watch. “No time for lunch.”
“I’ll get Frank to send over a sandwich from the café.”
“Thanks, Miss Emma.” He smiled. He was beginning to see why his dad had put up with her for so many years. He could use someone like her in New York, he thought fleetingly. Miss Emma in New York. He shuddered at the image.
Later that evening when he opened the door of his parents’ house, the most delicious aroma enticed him. His mom was cooking and he recognized the smell of his favorite—pot roast.
He stood in the kitchen doorway and watched her for a moment. An apron with a happy face on it covered her dress. She set plates on the table with a quick hand, but her eyes were cloudy.
She turned and saw him. “Hi,” she said in a wobbly voice.
She had to deal with her grief in her own way, but he hated to see her like this. It made him feel so helpless. Putting his arms around her, he said, “Mom, you don’t have to cook. I can eat anything.”
“It keeps me busy,” she sniffed into his shoulder. Brushing away a tear, she added, “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
“How was your day?”
“Exhausting,” he replied with a teasing note in his voice.
She glanced at the stove, a smile touching her face. “Supper’s almost ready, so go wash up.”
He left the kitchen without saying a word, feeling like that ten-year-old boy who used to love coming home to the smell of his mother’s cooking. Were there women like his mom left in this world? he wondered. Women who cared about home and hearth and family? Most of the women he met were like Stephanie Cox; they wanted something from him he wasn’t willing to give. Then there was C.J. Doe….
At the thought of her, he went into his dad’s study and dialed her number.
“Hello.” Her soft husky voice came down the line.
He felt a swift familiar sensation of desire. Her voice alone had more power over him than Stephanie Cox’s entire body. Shaking that reaction from his mind, he said, “Miss Doe, this is Matthew Sloan.”
“Yes?”
“The Townsends have agreed to your offer.”
A long pause. “Miss Doe, did you hear me?”
“Yes, I heard you. I’m just stunned. I didn’t expect them to accept so quickly.”
“They want it done discreetly, no publicity.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
“I would like to choose the lab, though.”
Startled, he asked, “Any reason for that?”
“Yes. I don’t trust the Townsends. They have too much power in this state. I want a reputable lab that won’t be tempted by bribery.”
“I see. And you know of such a lab?”
“I’ll make some phone calls and let you know in the morning.”
“That’ll be fine,” he replied, a little surprised by her shrewdness. “You do realize the Townsends have to agree to the lab?”
“Yes.”
“Then I won’t do anything further until I hear from you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sloan, Jr.”
“For what?”
“I’m not sure. I guess for getting things done so quickly.”
“You don’t make it easy, especially since you haven’t retained an attorney. I wish I could make you understand how important it is for you to have a lawyer, someone to protect your interests.”
“Well, then, that’s why I should thank you—for not taking advantage of me.”
“With those trigger-happy protectors around you, a man would have to be a fool to take advantage of you, Miss Doe.”
“Pete and Harry are harmless.”
“If you say so.”
He could feel her smiling and wished he could see her face. The sight had to be magical. His own lips curved into an answering smile. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
As he hung up the phone, the smile left his face. He hoped it would all turn out the way she wanted. Then he felt a moment’s shock. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t her lawyer, so he shouldn’t care about her interests, but—God help him—he did.
Had his father experienced these same feelings? Was that the reason he’d done nothing about the case? Or maybe there was something about C.J. that caused men to lose their sense of reason.
C.J. WALKED ONTO THE PORCH and sat on the swing. Dusk had settled in and the earth seemed to sigh, accepting the darkness and peace of nightfall. Pete puffed on his pipe and Harry whittled one of his many horse figures.
As she curled her feet beneath her, thoughts of Matthew Sloan, Jr., soon eclipsed the evening song of crickets and a faraway whippoorwill. Every time she heard his serious voice she got a fluttering in her stomach. Why was she so aware of him? He was the enemy, and a city man to boot. She knew the answer, but it really didn’t matter, she told herself. In a little while, he’d be gone and out of her life.
The Townsends had agreed to the tests. It was unbelievable, but it was the best news she’d heard in a long time.
Pete watched her thoughtfully. “Who was on the phone?”
“Matthew Sloan, Jr. The Townsends said yes to the blood tests.”
A shaggy eyebrow shot up in surprise. “You don’t say.”
She clasped her hands together. “Now I’ll have some answers. I’ll find out if I’m a Townsend.”
Pete rested his elbows on his knees, his brown eyes skeptical. “Girl, don’t go gettin’ your hopes up.”
“I’m trying not to, but it’s hard.”
“‘The devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape,’” Harry interjected.
C.J. sighed with exasperation. “Harry, that makes no sense.”
His knife slipped through a piece of wood with ease, leaving wood shavings at his feet. “Beware of the devil in men, my girl,” he told her.
She chewed on her lower lip and decided to give up trying to understand Harry and his quotes. But sometimes there was logic hidden in his words. Tonight, though, she didn’t want to search for logic. She wanted to savor this moment.
Pete took a puff on his pipe, his eyes narrowed, as the aromatic scent of tobacco drifted toward her. “Just be sure this is what you want, girl,” he said. “Because when it’s all over, you’re not gonna have anything Victoria Townsend left you. All you’ll have are the results of a couple of blood tests.”
“I’ll have
the truth,” she said fiercely. “I have to know who I am.”
Why couldn’t anyone accept how badly she needed that? Pete and Harry, in their practical wisdom and their deep concern for her, saw only that the land and money would give her a secure future. But without a past she had no future. She would only be existing in a world where she didn’t belong. This was her last chance to find her identity. In her heart she knew it was what Victoria had wanted for her.
What if the results are negative? a voice inside whispered. She’d simply start over, she decided resolutely. She knew the risks and she was willing to take them. Negative or positive, she could handle the results.
Getting up, she headed into the house. “I’ve got some phone calls to make.” She stopped by Pete’s chair; her hand touched his shoulder in a hesitant gesture.
He patted her hand. “I understand, girl.”
She knew he did. He’d watched her suffer over the years, and if the blood tests were going to give her some peace, then he’d support this. She realized he had nagging doubts, but for her, he’d pushed them aside.
She bent and quickly kissed his rough cheek, knowing that whatever she had to go through in this world, Pete and Harry would be behind her one hundred percent.
THE NEXT MORNING C.J. walked into Matthew’s office and laid a piece of paper on his desk.
At the sight of her his pulse quickened. Her long hair was pulled back and held in place by a single red ribbon. Snug Wrangler’s hugged her long slim legs, and a red sleeveless shirt set off her slender tanned arms. A pink hue tinted her cheeks, either from the flush of excitement or just the reflection of her shirt. He couldn’t be sure. Whatever the reason, the effect was stunning.
He tore his eyes away and picked up the paper, scanning it.
“That’s a lab in Austin. Ryder Laboratories. Cliff Ryder is the director,” C.J. said.
Matthew fingered the paper. “Exactly how are you acquainted with this lab?”
She slanted him a cool look. “Why are you asking?”
“Because a lab shouldn’t be chosen if it has an association with one of the involved parties.”
She sighed in annoyance. “I met Cliff Ryder at a party in college. I haven’t seen him since. He’s a reputable man, and he wouldn’t jeopardize his career for me or anyone.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “I have nothing to gain from any fabrication.”