by Glynna Kaye
“Drive carefully.”
“Always.” No way would he do anything stupid and risk not getting home safely to the ladies in his life. Risk not delivering in person a bouquet of flowers—and his heart—to Olivia Diaz.
Chapter Eighteen
Olivia returned her cell phone to her pocket, picked up Angie and spun the giggling girl around the hardwood floor of Singing Rock’s lodge.
“I love your daddy, Angie. Did you know that?” She snuggled her face against the child. “I love him, love him, love him.”
Angie patted Olivia’s face. “Love him.”
“Yes, we do, don’t we? We love your daddy.”
She loved him. No doubts. No red lights this morning. And she had a sneaking suspicion he might be coming to the same conclusion about her. Her heart danced in time with her steps pirouetting across the polished floor. Was this a dream? Was she imagining the tenderness, the promise in his tone?
Was she setting herself up for the hardest fall of her life?
She drew to a halt. Then shook her head.
No, she wouldn’t think about that possibility. This was a time to trust. To believe. To rejoice. She needed to take one day at a time and stop trying to figure everything out. Rob said he missed Angie—and her. He’d be home tonight. She’d prepare him a feast. Treat him like a king. Show him how much she cared for him and his precious little girl.
Joy bubbled as she once again waltzed his sweet daughter around the room. Moments later she found their jackets and got them bundled up against the cool morning air.
“Let’s go grocery shopping. We’ll make your daddy a dinner he’ll remember forever, okay?”
“’kay.”
They’d just stepped out on the broad front porch, hand in hand, as a fiftyish couple exited a flashy, silver convertible. Impeccably dressed in casual sportswear, they looked ready for a day at the country club. Perhaps they were looking for one of the area’s gated communities and got lost?
“Good morning! What can I do for you folks?”
The heavyset, salt-and-pepper-haired man glanced at his companion as they approached, then squared his shoulders. “We’re looking for Robert McGuire.”
“Rob? He’s away this morning. I’m Olivia Diaz, Rob’s—assistant. Are you looking for lodging? I can help you with that.”
“No, no. Personal business with—Rob.” The man smiled at Angie. “Who’s this cute little lady?”
“Angie.”
“Yours?”
“No.” Maybe someday. Soon. “Rob’s.”
The man and woman exchanged glances, then focused on Angie with more than casual interest. A wave of unease coursed through Olivia and she picked up the toddler. Held her close. Were these the people Rob had warned her about? Cassie’s parents?
“How do you know Rob?”
The man stuffed his hands in his pockets. “He and our daughter were, shall we say, acquainted.”
Icy fingers tiptoed along Olivia’s spine. Their daughter. Angie’s birth mother.
She tightened her grip on the toddler. Gave the man her most winning smile as she fought the urge to rush back into the lodge and bolt the door. “I’d be happy to tell Rob you stopped by, mister—”
“Wells. Colin Wells. This is my wife, Elaine. And I believe this—” he nodded toward Angie “—is the granddaughter we’ve come to take home.”
“Good doing business with you.” Rob secured the U-Haul trailer doors with a chain and padlock. Then turned to offer his hand to the Scottsdale clerk who’d helped him load the last of the supplies he hadn’t been able to find locally. He was now all set for those off-season Singing Rock repairs.
Rob climbed into his SUV, then turned the key in the ignition and glanced at the dashboard clock. He’d finished up early. Time to head back up to the high country. Get out of the heat and the bumper-to-bumper traffic descending on the Valley of the Sun with the first wave of Snowbird RVs and travel trailers. But not before he swung by an upscale florist shop and picked out something to catch the eye of a special lady of his acquaintance.
“Olivia Diaz…McGuire.” He let the syllables roll off his tongue. Then grinned as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto a busy side street. That combination of names had a nice ring to it, didn’t it? “Olivia McGuire.”
He switched on the air-conditioning. Then the radio, finding a thumping country band belting out an old tune about saying goodbye to past regrets and coming home at last.
Home. Olivia. How quickly they’d come to be one and the same. He shook his head, marveling at the events of the past few months. How God had not only spared him in Vegas, found him a safe new home in Canyon Springs, but brought the woman of his dreams into his life, as well. Olivia, with her big beautiful brown eyes and forgiving heart.
Olivia Diaz…McGuire.
He grinned again. He was one fortunate man. One who didn’t deserve this truckload of blessings—but who was he to argue with God Almighty?
Please, God, help me.
“Rob didn’t tell me you were coming, Mr. Wells.”
The man placed a foot on the bottom step. Olivia took a step back.
The man chuckled. “I can see we’ve confused you. Don’t mean to. But you see, your friend Rob fathered this little gal with my daughter.”
“Cassie?”
His eyes narrowed. “So, you know her name. Know the story. Then you must also know Mr. McGuire didn’t have the legal authority to take this child from her mother.”
Angie squirmed in her arms, but she didn’t set her down.
“She’s his daughter. That’s authority enough when your mother abandons you.”
“Abandon? That’s what he told you?” Colin Wells looked sadly at his wife. “Our daughter didn’t abandon this sweet child. Your ‘friend’ took advantage of our daughter. Got her pregnant. Then intimidated her. Threatened her when she wouldn’t marry him so he could get hold of a considerable inheritance from her mother. That’s when he abducted her child.”
“That’s a lie.”
The man’s gaze sharpened at her blunt response. Oh, good going, Olivia. Make him mad.
“I wish it was a lie, young lady. Unfortunately, we hadn’t been in close contact with our daughter for several years. We only recently learned of the existence of our grandchild. Learned our daughter had been forced to give up her baby. This Rob McGuire wasn’t easy to find, but we promised her we’d get her child back.”
“Your daughter—” Olivia kept her tone even, not wishing to further provoke them “—abandoned her child and the man who loved her.”
“Love?” The man’s mouth twisted. “You call it love when a man gets an unmarried woman in a family way, then sneaks off in the night with her child?”
“If that’s what she told you, then she hasn’t told you the truth.”
“What I’m telling you, young lady, is that not only did your Rob abduct this child, but he transported her across state lines. Which makes you—” he raised a bushy brow “—an accessory of sorts if you refuse to relinquish her.”
“Rob did not—”
“I know this comes as a shock—Olivia, is it?” The woman’s placating tone rang annoyingly. “Especially if you’re in a…relationship…with our grandchild’s father. It’s not our intention to drag the law into this if we can help it, but—”
“Why not?” Olivia shifted Angie in her arms and managed to pull her cell phone from her jacket pocket. She held it up. “I can call 911 right now. Save you the trouble.”
The couple shared a fleeting glance, then the woman shook her head. Sighed.
“Look, we’re not trying to cause trouble,” the man assured. “We have no intention of snatching our grandbaby from your arms. But we want you to understand t
he truth of the situation. Obviously your ‘friend’ has misled you. Like he misled our daughter. Deceived her.”
“Rob did not—”
“We thought Mr. McGuire would be here, Olivia,” the woman cut in again, her voice now impatient. “You said he’s out this morning? When will he return?”
“Soon.”
“Then, we’ll go into town. Have lunch—and return this afternoon. We understand you’re in a difficult position, caring for the child in Mr. McGuire’s absence. But rest assured we’ll be back. And likely accompanied by law enforcement.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Which one do you think spells out most clearly a man’s serious intentions?”
The aloof-looking clerk at the Scottsdale florist shop pressed her ruby-colored lips together momentarily. Then raised a brow, her eyes sweeping discreetly over his work clothes. “I assume you’re alluding to a proposal?”
A lump formed in his throat at the unanticipated question.
Was he thinking of proposing?
Sure, he intended to tell her he loved her this evening. But the playing with the name thing—he’d only been kicking it around, hadn’t he? Trying it on for size. He hadn’t bargained on proposing yet. More like easing up on it. One step at a time. Then again, hadn’t both his sisters long complained that a man should never tell a woman he loved her unless he intended to put a ring on her finger?
Was he ready for this? Was she?
What if Olivia turned him down flat?
His stomach did a rollover. And for a flashing moment, he envisioned the look on the clerk’s face if he turned tail and bolted out the door. Serious intentions. That’s what he’d told the woman a moment ago. That’s what he had for Olivia, wasn’t it? Real, serious, God-led intentions.
So what was he waiting for?
The clerk discreetly cleared her throat. Compressed her lips in a tight, disapproving smile. He opened his mouth—but no sound came out.
Do not be afraid, for I am with you.
The assurance that he was on the right track washed through him again. Hadn’t his grandpa asked his grandma to marry him on their first date? Look how long they’d been married.
He nodded. “Um, yes, ma’am. A proposal.”
Her chilly smile warmed. “Roses. Long-stemmed red roses. A dozen.”
His sisters would approve of roses. “Sounds good.”
He’d barely settled into his vehicle again—reeling at the sum he’d placed on his credit card and cranking up the AC to keep the boxed flowers at a florist-level chill—when his cell phone rang.
Olivia. He smiled to himself. Had she sensed what he was up to? Was calling to check on him?
“Hey, beautiful. I’m on my way.”
“Oh, Rob. Thank God. Hurry. Please hurry.”
He sat up straighter at the desperation in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Cassie’s parents—Angie’s grandparents. They’re here. They’ve come to take her.”
An invisible fist slammed into his chest. No, God, please, no. He struggled to regain his breath. Tamp down the panic threatening to paralyze him. He was close to three hours from Canyon Springs.
“Don’t let them touch her, Olivia.”
“I won’t. I won’t. I have her right here with me.”
“Are Cassie’s parents there, too? With you?”
“Not right now. But they’ll be back. They say they’ll bring law enforcement with them. What do I do, Rob, if cops show up? If they try to take Angie before you get here?”
“Sit tight. I’ll get hold of Meg and Joe. They’ll know who I can contact at the police department. Maybe a local lawyer. Keep Angie with you. Don’t let her out of your sight. And don’t meet with Cassie’s parents alone, you understand?”
“Yes. How far away are you now?”
“Too far. I haven’t started home yet.”
Her quick intake of breath came clearly across the miles and his grip tightened on the phone. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m on my way.”
“Cassie’s parents are saying awful things. Saying you threatened her. That you abducted Angie.”
His gut twisted. “She left me. Left Angie.”
“I know, but that’s not what they’ll tell the police. You have to get hold of Cassie, Rob. She’s the only one who can straighten this out. The only one the police will believe.”
An invisible hand closed around his throat. The only one the police would believe—or Olivia would believe?
“She seldom answers my calls. I hear from her when she wants to be heard from.”
“There has to be a way to get hold of her.” Desperation colored her tones. If only he was there in person. Could hold her. Reassure her. “Maybe you can find her through mutual friends? Place of employment?”
“I never knew her friends. She’s not in Vegas anymore. Somewhere in California.” A frequently transient soul amidst—what?—forty million?
“We have to find her, Rob.”
“I’ll do what I can.” Which wasn’t much. “Where are you now?”
“At Singing Rock. Brett’s in the office, so we’re not alone.”
“Good. I’m on my way.”
“Drive carefully, Rob. But please, please hurry.”
Olivia picked up Angie and headed upstairs to Rob’s apartment, a plan formulating. If Cassie wouldn’t answer Rob’s calls, maybe she’d answer hers? Would pick up when she didn’t recognize the name or number?
It took a few minutes to pop Angie in her portable playpen and get her situated. Then Olivia turned to Rob’s old wooden desk, her determination growing. But when she reached for the key already snugly inserted in the shallow, middle drawer, she hesitated. She always honored another’s privacy. How would he feel if she searched for a phone number?
She glanced at Angie, chatting happily to herself as she stacked plastic blocks. Giggled as they toppled down.
What choice did she have? She couldn’t risk Cassie’s parents taking Rob’s daughter. She had to track down Angie’s biological mother. And if Rob later objected, so be it.
The open drawer revealed neatly compartmentalized office supplies. Paper clips. Pens. A few stray keys. She pulled the drawer out farther and, with bated breath, glimpsed an accordion file folder, an elastic band stretched securely around it.
Please, Lord, make this easy.
With shaky hands she slipped off the band. Peeped inside. Receipts. Spirits plummeting, she replaced the folder and moved to one of the side drawers. Proceeded to go carefully through each of the three—but came up empty-handed. Through the open window, she heard the sound of gravel crunching under tires. Heard an engine cut off.
Had they returned so soon?
Heart pounding, she dashed to the window. But to her relief it was a guest unloading a basket outside the laundry facility.
She glanced toward the short hallway that led to Angie’s and Rob’s rooms. The bathroom. She’d been in Angie’s a number of times in recent days. Minimal furnishings. A closet that held extra blankets and toys. Miniature outfits on tiny hangers.
She’d never been in Rob’s. Surely he kept personal documents somewhere at the apartment. Despite the advent of computers, this was hardly a paperless society. He owned a car. Would have ownership and insurance papers. Health insurance documents. A birth certificate for Angie.
With another glance at his two-year-old playing happily, Olivia reluctantly found herself standing in the doorway of Rob’s room. Light streamed through the wooden, slatted shutters, revealing an almost Spartan arrangement. A double bed, its sheets tucked in military fashion. A precisely folded Navajo blanket at its foot. A single pillow. A nightstand with a lamp, Bible and framed photo of Angie. Small dresser. A chair.<
br />
Forgive me, Rob.
She dropped to the floor and peeked under the bed. But unlike hers, which was crammed with overstuffed plastic storage bins, there wasn’t so much as a shoebox beneath it. Again on her feet, she unwillingly eyed the dresser. Took a hesitant step toward it, then turned instead toward the accordion-doored closet. Closets were less personal, weren’t they? Renewing her determination, she opened the doors wide—and caught the scent of Rob. His aftershave. Leather jacket. The outdoors where he spent so much of his time.
Lined up in front of her were his knit, collared shirts and a few jackets. A couple of pairs of dress slacks draped over pants hangers and jeans were folded and stacked on a top shelf. But it was the back corner of the closet that caught her attention.
Her heart leaped. A steel-gray metal box, one that appeared designed for file folders. She dropped to her knees and tugged on the sturdy handle that topped it. Hardly budged. So it had to be fireproof.
She reached up to flip on the closet light, then found the metal container’s latch. That didn’t budge, either. Locked.
Now what? This had to be what she was looking for.
“Libbia? Please? Libbia?”
“I’m coming.”
With a frustrated glare at the metal file, she hurried back to the living room. Angie pointed to a red block that had escaped the confines of the playpen. Olivia picked it up and handed it to the little girl. “Here you go, sweetie.”
“Tank you.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Rob would be so proud she remembered. “You’re welcome.”
Gazing at the smiling child, she fought back a helplessness that threatened to render her useless to Rob. The fireproof file had to contain the answers she so desperately needed. Her gaze drifted to Rob’s desk—and hope sparked. Those loose keys…
In a flash she took the handful of miscellaneous keys to the bedroom and in no time had the steel box opened. As she’d expected, business documents. Angie’s birth certificate—her mother’s name Cassandra Jannette Wells. But no phone numbers.