Heat Wave

by Jill Marie Landis

  “One day, weak as she was, she insisted on going to the park to sit in the sun. She wanted to watch people doing ordinary, everyday things—all the things she’d never be able to do again. She wanted to watch the kids playing in the park.”

  He’d bundled her up and taken her to Plaza Park on the bluff above Twilight Cove. The sun was shining, the air crystal clear after three days of rain. He’d never forget that day.

  He bought ice-cream cones neither of them finished.

  With a gesture unlike her, she took his hand and told him the secret she’d kept from him for nineteen years. It wasn’t the kind of last-breath, deathbed revelation of feature films—nothing as dramatic as that. Just a few words softly spoken on a sunny afternoon. Words that altered his life forever. Words that left his world totally shaken.

  “You’re a father, you know.” Her voice was rough and dry. She’d worn a jewel-toned caftan, her baldness concealed beneath a garish, orange knit turban. Gulls screamed as they soared and dove overhead.

  “You’re a father, you know.”

  “What did you say, Mom?” He had wondered if the medication was affecting her mind.

  “You have a child out in the world somewhere. Amy’s child. And yours.”

  Kat Vargas had grown very still. Ty focused on the present, on the attractive young woman beside him.

  “My mom confessed that my high school sweetheart had been pregnant with my child when we broke up. Her name was Amy Simmons. She was from the other side of town, and she ran with a fast crowd, while I hung with the jocks. We dated our junior and senior years, but my mom never liked her.”

  They’d lost their virginity to each other in the back of his Volkswagen van the night of the homecoming game. Back then, he thought they’d be together forever.

  “During our senior year, Amy got into alcohol and drugs. I was a seventeen-year-old kid, in love, scared, confused. I couldn’t fight Amy’s addiction for her, so I broke up with her, hoping that might shake her up enough to make her stop.

  “She ran away with a girlfriend before graduation and moved down to Southern California, where they met someone who took them to River Ridge, a compound in the Angeles National Forest. It was a phony drug rehab. They promised success using New Age techniques.”

  Ty shoved his hand through his hair with a sigh. Kat listened intently, showing no reaction.

  “I went after her, but she refused to come back. My mom was so glad it was over. I got in my van and headed north and didn’t stop driving until I ended up in Alaska.

  “Later, I tried to contact Amy through her parents, but they had moved and I never heard from them again.”

  He’d lost Amy, and for a while lost himself in the wilderness. Then he’d picked up the pieces.

  “I worked odd jobs, construction on log homes, a guide for outback tours. Eventually I started Kamp Kodiak, a fishing and hunting camp. I worked my ass off turning it into a lucrative business. Amy was out of my life for good, until my mom told me about our child.”

  “How old?” Kat’s smooth, even voice startled him out of his reverie.

  “I just turned thirty-seven.”

  Her lips instantly curved into a half smile. She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “Not you. How old is your kid?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “Boy or girl?”

  “I have no idea. All I know is that Mrs. Simmons told Mom about the pregnancy right after I left town. When I’d gone after Amy, she wasn’t showing yet. I had no idea.”

  “So your mom knew all the time?”

  “Yeah. She knew.”

  “Why did she wait all these years to tell you? Why would she keep her own grandchild a secret?”

  “Believe me, I’ve asked myself that a million times. She knew I’d do whatever it took to be with Amy. That I’d always be connected to her through our child. My mother wanted to spare me the heartache of ending up stuck with way more than I could handle.”

  Kat Vargas leaned toward him. Rested her elbow on the arm of her chair, propped her chin in her hand. “Could you have handled it?”

  “I’d have damn well tried. I’d have done something. It was my kid, for Christ’s sake.”

  SATISFIED WITH HIS answer, Kat leaned back. She could see that he was emotionally drained. He rested his head against the chair and slowly set the rocker in motion.

  That he was an outdoors man was evident in his rugged good looks, his deep tan, the not unattractive creases at the corners of his eyes that came from squinting against the sunlight.

  He filled the rocker, made it seem insubstantial for a man of his height and build. His gaze slid past her as he focused on the ocean once again, staring out to sea with such longing that she had a feeling it was the way he’d look at a woman he hungered for.

  She contented herself with studying the breadth of his shoulders, the way his polo shirt clung to his well-defined upper arms like a second skin.

  Jake had told her to get out and meet someone interesting. Ty Chandler was that, but he was exactly the kind of guy she wasn’t looking for. Justin Parker had been handsome, too. Way too handsome. Her former fiancé was the kind of guy women openly admired.

  She wasn’t going down that road again.

  Her injured hand began to ache. She lightly rubbed the bandage, working her wrist back and forth. Chandler suddenly stopped rocking, walked over, and leaned against the low porch wall.

  When he noticed the brass wind chimes lying on the railing, he picked them up and they clattered against one another. It only took him an instant to locate the empty hook in the ceiling above his head.

  “Want me to hang this for you?”

  “Please don’t!” Kat realized she had overreacted and softened her tone. “No, thanks. They were driving me crazy so I took them down.”

  He set the wind chimes on the rail, went back to the rocker, and sat down. Leaning forward, he planted his elbows on his knees again and threaded his fingers together and stared into her eyes.

  “So, do you think you can help me?”

  “You’re not looking for one of those little dimpled cherubs on a Pampers commercial, you know. You’re going to end up with a nineteen-year-old, somebody with baggage—and from what you’ve told me about the mother, probably plenty of it.

  “Mom was on drugs and alcohol. The kid could have severe physical and/or learning disabilities. Maybe even followed in her mom’s footsteps.” She tapped her bare foot, speculating. “You don’t even know if your old girlfriend kept the kid or not. Maybe she gave the baby up for adoption. Maybe even made a little drug money that way.”

  She saw him blanch. “I’m sorry for having to be so blunt, but you need to know you might be opening a real can of worms.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” he admitted.

  “All of it?”

  He nodded, even more solemn. “I know it’ll be an adjustment.”

  “To say the least.”

  “Hey, I’ve been fortunate in my life. I hate to think there is a child of mine out in the world somewhere who needs me or what I can give him . . . or her. I just hope it’s not too late.”

  Their eyes met and Kat found herself having to look away from the raw emotion on his face.

  She doubted a man like Ty Chandler had been living like a monk since his breakup with a high school sweetheart. “How does your wife feel about all of this? What about your kids?”

  He stopped rocking. “I was married for a while after moving to Alaska, but it only lasted five years. Victoria got sick of Alaska and of me devoting so much time to the business. I wanted to build a life, start a family. She wanted to move home to the East Coast and go back to college.”

  He leaned on the arm of the chair and continued. “The Chandlers have a long history here in Twiligh
t. We go back generations. I’m the last of the line. I want to find my child, whatever that might mean, and share our history.”

  “I’ve seen these things go bad,” she warned, compelled to be totally honest. “Reunions like this aren’t the same as the ones shown on Oprah or Montel. Not everyone ends up happily reunited.” She had seen searches like this end in heartache. She hated getting caught up in anything that had to do with kids.

  Parental abductions, guardianship and custody battles—those were the cases she’d handed over to Jake when they’d been working together in Long Beach. She made it her policy to stay away from anything to do with children because she didn’t have the heart for it.

  Give her a cheating husband to track down and she was happy, but long-lost kids? She didn’t need to witness that kind of heartache. It hit too close to home.

  “So, will you help me?”

  Say no and send him on his way.

  When she realized he was getting to her, Kat reminded herself that he didn’t specifically need her. There were countless P.I.s out there who would be happy to take his money. He could probably even find his child himself if he had the patience and knew where to look.

  “You can do this yourself,” she suggested. “You can hook up with a service on the Internet, run a search, and eventually track down Amy Simmons, if not her child, maybe in a matter of hours.”

  Ty shook his head. “I bought a book on how to find anyone anyplace, and it’s not as easy as it sounds. I have Amy’s parents’ last known address, but that was a dead end. I can’t devote round-the-clock time to this because the new owner of Kamp Kodiak has asked me to stay on until the end of the year and help make the transition as smooth as possible. I built up a lot of repeat visitors and he doesn’t want to lose them.”

  “So where do you live now?”

  “I moved back here for good. I’m hoping that Amy’s child . . . that our child . . . is somewhere in California. I run the Kamp Kodiak website and guest registration from here, but I’ve already had to make three trips back to Alaska in the past couple of months. So,”—he shrugged—“I’m anxious as hell, but the search has been slow going. It’s definitely not as simple as it looks in the book.”

  “Hey, that’s why I make the big bucks.”

  “Really?”

  When she laughed, he realized she was joking and finally smiled again. It was such a slow, steady smile that it warmed her in places she hadn’t been warm in a long, long time.

  Ty Chandler spelled trouble. She felt it in her bones. More specifically, she felt it in her heart—a heart that, despite her best efforts not to notice, was letting her know that it hadn’t turned to stone after all.

  Maybe it was her imagination, but whenever Ty Chandler looked at her, she thought he might be a little more than interested in something other than her investigative skills.

  She’d have to be blind not to be aware of his good lucks, but it was his story and his desire to find his child that moved her most—but the worst thing she could do was take his case based on an emotional reaction to his story.

  She rubbed the bandage on her hand, reminded of what happened the night she let herself feel sorry for Sandi Kline.

  She held up her injured hand, waved it back and forth in front of him.

  “I’d have to use the Internet, and I can’t type right now.”

  His smile intensified into the eye-crinkling, heart-stirring kind of smile that made a few lucky actors major box office material.

  “No problem. I took first place in the Twilight High typing contest.”

  Maybe it was the beautiful June day, or the fact that the sun was shining and the birds were singing. Maybe her brain wasn’t used to all this pure, smog-free air. Maybe it was the thought of all the peace and quiet that really scared the hell out of her. Or the echo of Jake’s words—“You need more in your life than work, kung fu videos, and one-night stands.”

  She wished Ty Chandler’s eyes weren’t shining with as much unrelenting hope as they were warmth.

  “You’re not lying about the typing, are you?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Besides, if I’m part of the search, I won’t have to keep bugging you about how it’s going.”

  “You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?” She might very well be asking herself the same thing about having to work with him.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life.”

  She wished she could say the same.

  “So when do we get started?” He was up and out of the chair and raring to go.

  “Started?”

  “Searching.”

  “Did I say I was taking the case?”

  “You haven’t said you wouldn’t.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “I just got up. I need a shower and a cup of coffee in the worst way.”

  “But you will take the case?”

  “Against my better judgment.”

  No doubt women weren’t in the habit of turning him down.

  She looked at her left hand again, a painful reminder of the last time she let her emotions get wrapped up with a client’s needs and wants. But she was a big girl, and when it came to protecting her heart, she could be tough as nails if she had to.

  “I call all the shots,” she warned.

  “Right. You’re the boss.”

  “Before we do anything, I’ll go over my retainer fee.”

  “Great.” He actually looked thrilled to be spending his money.

  Jake was going to throw a fit when he found out she’d taken on a client.

  “How about I go get some coffee started?” Ty suggested. “How do you like it?”

  “Strong and hot.” She didn’t realize how that must have sounded to him until she looked up and caught him smiling.

  “I think I can handle that.” He stepped aside to let her pass.

  That’s just what I’m afraid of.

  As she walked into the house, she hoped he hadn’t noticed her blush.

  Chapter 3

  TRUE TO HIS word, Ty had the coffee ready by the time she’d showered and changed into a knit, sleeveless shift. He’d dug up a bagel somewhere and toasted it for her, too.

  She led him straight to Jake’s office, a small alcove off the living room, where Ty pulled up a chair for himself so he could use the keyboard.

  When she sat down beside him, they were so close their bare knees touched. His skin was warm, and such intimacy, even innocent, was disconcerting. She took a deep breath, forced herself to concentrate on the monitor.

  She outlined her standard fee and had him type up an abbreviated contract that would work until she could have Arnie Tate send one up from her office.

  Then Ty reached into his front pocket, pulled out a folded piece of feminine ivory stationary, and handed it to her. She caught a slightly floral scent and noted his mother’s name and address embossed at the top of the page. Inside was a brief note with an address printed in bold, precise manuscript lettering.

  “That’s Amy’s folks’ last address,” he told her. “I found it in the top drawer of my mother’s desk. She’d left it right where I couldn’t miss it.”

  “One more thing she kept from you.” Kat watched his mouth harden. She was glad she wouldn’t be meeting Barbara Chandler.

  “Yeah. Another piece of the puzzle. I guess she wanted all of my attention and thought this should wait until she was gone.”

  Kat kept her opinion of his mother to herself and couldn’t blame him for staying in Alaska for so long.

  “I checked the directory for Carson City, Nevada, but they weren’t listed,” he volunteered.

  She reached over and fumbled with the bagel, trying to tear off a piece one-handed.

  “Let me help.” Ty reached across
her, his biceps brushing her breast, and tore the bagel into chunks that she could manage. She inhaled his clean, masculine scent, blushed, and leaned back. It had been way too long since she’d gone out with anyone.

  If he noticed her discomfort, he didn’t let on.

  “That should help,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She stared at the bagel and tried to collect her thoughts.

  Get a grip, Vargas.

  Do your job. Find his kid. Don’t make a production out of this.

  “So where do we start?” He rubbed his palms together and then flexed his fingers.

  “Directory assistance.”

  Ty laughed. “Directory assistance? I hired a P.I. for directory assistance? I’ve already tried that.”

  “This isn’t brain surgery. You just need time, patience, and access to the right websites. Let’s try directories for surrounding counties.”

  She told him what to type and enter as they negotiated a maze of multiple cross-reference directories, and after twenty minutes, they came up with a listing for Diane and Marvin Simmons in Yerington, Nevada. It was in the same county as Carson City, but farther east.

  Intending to leave him alone while he made the call, she got up. He grabbed her good hand, gave it a gentle tug, and in a hush requested, “Stay.”

  She sat down, finished up the bagel and coffee while he connected with the Simmonses for the first time in years.

  She tried to imagine herself having to track down Justin’s parents and speaking to them again. Worse yet, actually talking to Justin—but that part of her life was over. Finished. All pau, as they say in Hawaiian. The tie between them was broken.

  Ty’s tension was visible in the way he sat hunched over and turned away from the computer with his elbows resting on his knees. Obviously, the Simmonses were more than willing to talk, but she could tell that whatever it was they were saying had upset him. When he continued to stare at the floor, she knew the news wasn’t good.

  He finally raised his head. As he listened, his expression went from one of sorrow to anger. She turned her attention to the wide window above the desk. A red-tailed hawk circled over the nearby arroyo where some hapless creature on the ground was about to become lunch.