A Wolff at Heart

by Janice Maynard

  Laughing at their antics, she squatted, wishing she could let them out, but unsure of the protocol. Suddenly, Pierce appeared at her side.

  “You scared me,” she said, rising and putting a hand to her chest. “That was fast.”

  “The guys just picked up your keys. They’ll call me when it’s done.” He, too, was barefoot, his masculine feet oddly appealing. He had changed into dark jeans and a crisp cotton shirt in a madras plaid. “Say goodbye to the three stooges and come inside so I can patch up your foot.”

  “The three stooges?”

  “Larry, Moe and Curly.” He pointed to the dogs one by one and they set up a chorus of baying. “Later, boys,” he promised. He took Nikki’s arm, his fingers warm on her skin. “You could pick up bacteria in the yard. Let’s head inside and clean you up.”

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” It was a novelty to have someone so concerned for her well-being.

  “Infections can be serious. You don’t want to take a chance.” In the guest bathroom down the hall he had set out a full complement of first-aid supplies. “Roll up your pant leg and hold your foot over the tub. I’m going to douse it with hydrogen peroxide. It may sting a little.”

  A little was an understatement. The antiseptic bubbled and fizzed, washing away any impurities, but the liquid hitting raw flesh was as painful as her shower had been. She bit her lip and closed her eyes until the worst was over. When she looked again, Pierce was kneeling at her feet.

  He took her bare heel in his hand, and gooseflesh broke out all over her body. This was a terrible time to discover that her feet were erogenous zones. His touch was gentle but sure. First he dabbed the area dry with a paper towel. Then he smeared a thin film of antibiotic cream everywhere the skin was ripped.

  It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but she was distracted by Pierce’s closeness. She was practically leaning on his shoulder. If she was so inclined, she could ruffle his thick hair with her fingers. Feeling hot and shaky and breathless, she watched him wrap gauze around her foot and tape it with the neat precision of a trained medic.

  At last he stood, his big body dwarfing hers in the cramped confines of the bathroom. “That should do the trick. At least you’ll be able to wear a shoe over the bandage.”

  She backed up against the sink, feeling her pulse race. “Thank you. I’m sure it will be fine.” He was staring at her mouth, and she wondered if she had onion ring residue stuck to her chin.

  “Are you ready?”

  Her abdomen tightened as little zings of excitement danced through her veins. “For what?”

  A tiny smile tilted one corner of his mouth, as if he could see what she was thinking. “Dinner. Steak.”

  She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Oh, sure. Yes. Of course.” She eased away from him and out into the hall. “Thanks for the medical attention.”

  “No problem.”

  In the kitchen, he insisted she park herself at the table while he dished up their steak, baked potatoes and Caesar salad onto attractive earthenware plates. Just as he sat down, she popped up. “We haven’t printed out the hospital records.”

  He took her wrist and pulled her back into her seat. “We’re not at a restaurant. We have all evening. You can do that while I’m cleaning up dinner. We can sit together on the sofa and spread everything on the coffee table.”

  “Okay.” She subsided into her chair and cut into her steak. It was cooked perfectly, and they ate in silence for several minutes. Often she grabbed dinner on the fly or ate at her desk at home while she worked on case files. She had forgotten how pleasant it could be to share a meal with a man.

  She debated her next question, but she wanted to know. “How is your father doing?”

  Pierce froze, fork halfway to his mouth, before he set it down and took a long drink of his wine. “Stable,” he said tersely. “I spent a couple of hours with him this morning. My mother hopes to be able to take him home in the next day or so.”

  “And then what?”

  Pierce frowned, his gaze not on her, but on some unseen scenario that made him upset. “More waiting.”

  “When do you plan to tell him the truth?”

  “When we know he’s strong enough to handle it. And it would be a hell of a lot easier if I had more to say than ‘The reason I’m not a match is because I’m not your son.’ How do you tell a man that his only child isn’t really his?”

  “He’s still your father. He raised you…loved you.”

  Pierce stabbed a bite of meat as if it deserved punishment. “I know all that. But blood ties go beyond simple reasoning. It’s something primeval. I never realized how true that was until I had it torn away from me.”

  The conversation had taken a turn that curled Nikki’s stomach. “Families are about love. When someone chooses to love you, you’re connected, blood or no blood. Ask anyone who has adopted a child.”

  He looked stricken. “God, Nikki, I’m sorry. Were you adopted?”

  The irony of the question tightened her throat. “No. No, I wasn’t.”

  Pierce ate the last of his dinner and drank a second glass of wine while she finished her meal. He rolled the stem of his glass between his fingers, his expression grim. “If it was left up to me, we’d drop the whole thing. I don’t need to pursue this.”

  “You say that now, but it would eat away at you. Some questions never go away.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Sounds like the voice of experience speaking.”

  She shrugged. “Lawyers see a lot of stuff people don’t want to admit. Trust me, Pierce. You can’t merely close your eyes and pretend this never happened. Sooner or later, you’re going to want answers.”

  “Which is why I have you.” He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. “My office is upstairs. If you have trouble with email or the printer, let me know.” He paused. “Do you need help walking?”

  “No,” she said. “I can manage without you.”

  * * *

  Pierce rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, barely noticing what he was doing. In a few minutes, he was about to discover what might be an awful, terrible secret. If someone had asked him a few weeks ago, he would have said the only thing that scared him was the thought of his father dying. Now he had to acknowledge there were far worse scenarios.

  The selfish part of him wanted to pursue this attraction he felt for Nikki Parrish. She was smart and driven and damned sexy. His gut told him they would be good together. But he needed Nikki’s brain and skills more than he needed to sleep with her. At least for the moment.

  He wanted to go upstairs and hover. But suddenly it was important to make her believe that he was in control. That he wasn’t an emotional mess. He didn’t need her pity. Though, in truth, he was pretty sure she knew how close to the edge he was. He’d tried getting up each morning and pretending his life was normal, but that was a huge lie.

  Distracting himself by flirting with Nikki might work for a moment here and there, and contemplating the escape of sexual oblivion was tempting. But she deserved better, and until he could make sense of his screwed-up life, he should do the honorable thing and leave her alone.

  Touching her could rapidly become an addiction. Even in a decidedly nonsexual situation like patching up her poor injured foot, he’d been hyperaware of her scent, her soft skin, her slender body. There was something so feminine about her. Which was funny, really, because she’d made it clear that she was strong and capable and didn’t want to admit that a man could do things she couldn’t…even if it was something as basic as lifting heavy furniture.

  His head jerked up at the sound of her feet on the stairs. He met her at the bottom. “Well?”

  She held up a sheaf of papers. “This is going to take a while.”

  Sighing, he held out a hand and motioned to the sofa. “Th
en let’s get started. The sooner I know, the better.” Suddenly, a thought struck him. “I’m paying you for your time,” he said.

  Nikki sat and fanned out four piles. “You helped me move, remember?”

  “Our agreement was that I help you move and you give me an appointment.”

  Her smile hit him low in the belly. It was luminous, teasing.

  She curled her right leg beneath her and sat gingerly, babying her hurt foot. “What if we call this a pro bono consultation? I’ve taken a personal interest in your case. And as of noon today, I am officially off the clock for six weeks.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. We barely know each other.”

  “Well,” she said slowly, her smile fading, “let’s just say I’m fascinated by what you’ve told me. I love a good mystery, and I have a feeling this one is going to have more twists and turns than a Hitchcock movie.”

  “I’m glad my personal life entertains you.”

  She patted the seat beside her. “Quit sulking. The news might turn out to be better than you think.”

  “How can you say that? My dad is not my dad.”

  “That’s not true. He is your dad. Being a father is so much more than dropping off sperm. He cared for you, spent time with you, showered you with love and affection. That’s what a father does.”

  “You sound like a Hallmark card.” He sat down beside her, preserving a careful distance.

  “I hope you’re not as cynical as you seem.”

  “I’m not cynical at all,” he protested. Staring grimly at the pile of papers, he evaluated her impassioned definition of fatherhood. “I always had this notion that one day I’d produce a kid and he and my dad and I would do things together…you know…generation to generation.”

  “You still can. No matter what. Forget about genetics for a moment. You love your dad. And he’s going to adore any baby that’s yours.” She patted his knee. “Give yourself time. I know the news was shocking, but I think you’ll find that in the end your relationship with your dad is no different than it ever has been.”

  “I can’t help him with the transplant.” His throat swelled shut. His eyes stung. Though he stared blindly now, his eyes locked desperately on the stack of records, he could practically feel Nikki’s compassionate gaze.

  She sighed audibly. “That’s true. But even if you had been his blood son, the markers might not have lined up. As it is now, the most you can do for him and your mom is to get to the bottom of this.”

  “What if he doesn’t make it? What if they don’t find a donor?”

  “You can’t think like that. I know this is huge. I’m not minimizing what has happened to you. Truly, I’m not. But it’s like having the breath knocked out of you when you’re a kid. It feels like you’re dying, and it’s scary as hell. Sooner or later, though, your lungs start working again and you know you’re going to be okay.”

  He straightened his spine, unaccountably encouraged by her sheer conviction. “You must be very good at your job.” He shot her a sideways look and sat back, feeling a bit of his burden shift and lift. “Thank you, Nicola Parrish. You’re a very nice woman.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “I can be hard as nails when I have to be.”

  “And when is that?”

  “Oh, you know…dealing with a deadbeat dad in court. Talking to a drug addict who’s stealing to support a habit. Facing down a chauvinistic judge who thinks women need to be in the kitchen, not in front of the bench.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Is that still a problem…honestly?”

  “Not often. But occasionally. And though you would think it’s only the older ones close to retirement, sometimes it’s a young man. Jerks transcend age and class. I met more than a few along the way in school.”

  “I’ll bet you were one of those annoying people who ruined the curve for everyone else.”

  Her chin lifted. “I believe in doing a job one hundred percent or not at all.”

  “Which is why you’re going to see this through.”

  “I told you, I love a mystery, a puzzle. And I never give up until I get the answers. But I have to warn you, I’ll keep going to the end. Even if the truth is something you don’t want to hear.”

  He clasped his hands behind his neck and leaned back into the sofa, feigning relaxation, though his guts were in a knot. “I’m scared,” he drawled, only half kidding.

  She uncurled her leg and sat up straight, both feet on the floor. “You don’t have to be,” she said, answering his attempt at humor with an adorably serious expression. “The truth may hurt when we’re not expecting it, but secrets are far more deadly. Trust me, Pierce. You’re doing the right thing.”

  Five

  Nikki winced at Pierce’s expression. She had no clue what he was thinking, but replaying her words in her head, she realized how she must sound to him. Insufferably sure of her own capabilities, and bossy to boot. It wasn’t a great tack to take with a man. A truth that had been pointed out to her on more than one occasion. But if she had to hide who she was to be part of a relationship, she’d pass, thank you very much.

  Not that she and Pierce were in a relationship, but still…

  Pierce picked up a sheet of paper. “No use putting it off.” He sounded more resigned than anything.

  “Indeed.” She opened her laptop and prepared a blank document.

  “What’s that for?” he asked.

  “I like to make notes as we go along. Memory is a tricky thing. So I document things I either want to go back to later or that may turn out to be key points. Nothing formal at this stage. More like a running commentary.”

  “How do I know what I’m looking for?”

  “You don’t. Not really. You can check the basic facts, of course. But if someone deliberately perpetrated fraud, I’m sure they will have tried to cover their tracks.”

  “Great,” he muttered. “A needle in a haystack that’s been buried for thirty-plus years. No problem.”

  She handed him roughly half of the pages she’d printed out. “Man up, Mr. Avery. All good detectives have to slog though the mud. For an outdoorsman, that should be right up your alley.”

  * * *

  Pierce read automatically, though with less than perfect attention. He noted details like birth weight and time of delivery and length of newborn, all of which he had seen documented in his baby book in his mom’s careful handwriting. Page by page, he scanned lines of medical jargon. There were sections about medicines administered, blood pressure recordings and body temps, both mom and baby.

  Nothing jumped out at him.

  After half an hour, Nikki handed him her stack. “Let’s swap. Maybe I’ll see something you missed, and vice versa.”

  The new pages were no more helpful. He found anecdotal descriptions of his mom’s labor. According to the records, it had been normal in every way. But something suddenly struck him. “Why aren’t there copies of ultrasounds? Seems like that should have been in here.”

  Nikki pursed her lips. “Good point. I’m friends with my ob-gyn. Let me give her a call. Maybe those records were stored separately in radiology.”

  As Pierce continued reading, Nikki disappeared for at least fifteen minutes. When she returned, her expression was wry. “Not to make you feel old or anything, but apparently back in the early eighties, ultrasounds were by no means routine. As a rule, they were used only in high-risk pregnancy situations, and sometimes not even then, because the technology was new and expensive and no one was one hundred percent sure they were safe.”

  Pierce was shocked. “Wow. I never thought of that. I assumed they had been around forever.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I can’t imagine not seeing those little black-and-white pictures. I have friends who framed theirs.”

  “But now you k
now why they’re not in your record.”

  Pierce sat up and rolled his neck. “This doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere,” he said, feeling the muscles in his back kink and burn. “I wanted to take you out on a trail near here this evening, one that has a beautiful view. But not with your foot messed up. How about a drive? I need to get outside and breathe.”

  “You should go by yourself,” Nikki said. “You deserve a break, and we’ve done enough for one day. But if you’ll drop me at my place, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Trying to get away from me?” It annoyed him that even the thought of her leaving was unpleasant. He enjoyed his own company and the peace and quiet of his home at the end of a busy day. Yet with Nikki ensconced on his sofa, drinking his wine and smiling at him with those eyes that seemed to shift from blue to pewter and everything in between, he found himself needing her company more than was comfortable.

  She nibbled her bottom lip, her thoughts hard to read on her face. “Not trying to get away,” she said carefully. “But wanting not to outstay my welcome.”

  He tossed the records on the table and stood. “I’ll let you know when that happens, I promise. Grab that afghan. I like the top down.”

  Perhaps it was bragging, but he couldn’t wait to show her his 300 SL. He ushered her out to the garage, opening the double-wide doors to let her enter before him. Though he wasn’t a total automotive freak, he did own seven vehicles of one kind or another, everything from a vintage Kawasaki motorcycle to a John Deere tractor he used for mowing. But he waited for her reaction to the one car that was his pride and joy.

  Fortunately, Nikki was suitably impressed. “This is beyond cool,” she breathed, sliding into the passenger seat and caressing the butter-soft burgundy leather.

  Pierce averted his eyes from her sensual gesture and checked the gas gauge. “I thought you might like it. It’s a 1960 Mercedes-Benz roadster. The cream paint and chrome are original. I bought it at auction when I was seventeen and spent the next five years rebuilding the engine and tracking down authentic parts. My dad and I worked on it summers and weekends.”