Heat Wave

by Jill Marie Landis

  With tear stains on her cheeks, the toddler goo-gooed and smiled triumphantly at Kat through spiked lashes. Kat looked away.

  It was obvious from the items in the room, the expensive watches and clothes the girls wore, that they had income other than welfare. Sunny could be into anything—dealing drugs, turning tricks, fencing stolen property.

  Kat had the urge to scoop up the toddler and see that she was put in foster care.

  Nothing gave her the right to play God, but sometimes she was convinced He was on vacation most of the time. Her mom believed God had a plan for everyone, but Kat had decided long ago if that was true, He was sorely in need of a good assistant.

  The little girl was whining, but she didn’t appear to be mistreated or neglected. Poor housekeeping skills weren’t a crime—if they were, Kat knew that she’d have been locked up long ago. Besides, the baby could land in an even worse situation.

  Calling the authorities wouldn’t help, not without concrete proof that anything illegal was going on. Kat reminded herself not to get involved. Ty had hired her to find Sunny. Case closed.

  When her gaze strayed of its own volition to the toddler again, she noticed the child was no longer fussing. Kat had to force herself to look away this time.

  “What’d you say your name was?” Sunny asked Ty.

  “Ty Chandler. And this is Kat Vargas. Listen, Sunny, I’d like to talk to you, get better acquainted. I’d hoped you’d agree to come up and visit Twilight Cove—”

  “You gotta be kidding me, man. I don’t even know who you are or even if you’re telling me the truth.”

  “She’s got a point there,” Kat mumbled, earning herself sharp glares from both Ty and the girl. As far as Ty knew, Amy could have lied to her parents about Ty being Sunny’s father.

  “Why now?” Sunny threw her head back, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. “It’s a little late to start playing Dad, don’t you think? If you were so hot to be a father, why’d you wait so long?”

  “I didn’t even know you existed until a few months ago.”

  “How come my mom never even mentioned your name? How come she never told you about me?”

  “I was in Alaska.”

  “No phone service up that far?” Sunny’s lip curled.

  Ty shoved his hand through his hair and glanced over at Kat. She knew how important this moment was to him. If she were in his place she’d say whatever she had to say, go the end of the earth and back to win her daughter over.

  “Look.” Kat stepped up to Sunny, as if speaking confidentially woman to woman. “It’s complicated. Mr. Chandler and your mom split when they were in high school. He took off for Alaska and never heard about you until three months ago. Now he’s offering you a chance to be part of his life, if you want to, in a nice, cozy little town up the coast.”

  “And I’m supposed to just walk out on my own life to be the kid he never knew he had?”

  Ty cleared his throat. “That’s up to you. We could start slow. Maybe go out for something to eat. Have lunch and talk. Set up a time for you to come up and visit.”

  “How do I know you’re really my father?”

  “I knew it the minute you came to the door. Your eyes are exactly like my grandmother’s. The rest of you is all Amy. But if you want a paternity test, I’ll pay for one.” He took a deep breath and backed off a bit.

  “Why don’t I give you some time to think all this over? We’re heading back up the coast tomorrow, but we can pick you up on our way, if you’d like to come visit for a few days. It’s your move.” He looked adrift on a sea of regret and uncertainty, but he was excited by all the possibilities. “Have you got a piece of paper?”

  Sunny ripped a corner off of a Burger King bag and handed it to him. Kat reached inside her purse and rooted around for a pen. He jotted down his address and cell number.

  As he handed the scrap back to Sunny and the pen to Kat, the door opened. Three men in their twenties slouched in. The first one in was Hispanic with dark eyes and hair. He was heavyset, with what looked like a permanent scowl. He headed straight for one of two black leather recliners in the room, the pricy kind from Sharper Image, tricked out with a massage unit. He swiped the television remote off the coffee table and switched off the soap. A black-and-white Sci-Fi classic filled the screen.

  The second man was shorter than the Hispanic. He could have been the boy next door. Spiked brown hair, blue eyes, pants that hung off his hips, a thick wallet chain, and a tight white T-shirt. James Dean of the new millennium. He wandered into the kitchen without a word to anyone.

  The oldest, last one in was a blond with fair, angelic coloring, a hard edge to his mouth, and suspicion in his eyes. His hair was long, blond, knotted with dreadlocks gone bad. He walked directly over to Sunny and immediately squared off with Ty. Kat casually hung her good hand over the open edge of her purse.

  “What’s up with this?” Dreadlocks wanted to know.

  Sunny shoved the tattered piece of paper with Ty’s address into the pocket of her Levi’s.

  “This guy claims he’s my dad.”

  “You gotta be shittin’ me.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, but he knew all about my mom, Jamie.”

  “So? That doesn’t mean he’s your father.”

  “Look, buddy—” When Ty took a step in Jamie’s direction, Kat laid her bandaged hand on his forearm. He immediately froze, but didn’t step back.

  “Listen, Sunny,” Kat said softly, trying to cut through a mounting layer of testosterone. “Why don’t you think things over and give Mr. Chandler a call if you change your mind?”

  “Change your mind about what?” Jamie’s cold eyes narrowed. His fingers bit into Sunny’s arm but she easily shook him off.

  Kat waited to see if Sunny had the situation under control, not the least worried about stepping in if Jamie started to bully the girl. Beside Kat, Ty remained tense.

  But Sunny didn’t look afraid of Jamie. In fact, she shot him a glance that clearly warned him to back off, and he did.

  Relieved, Kat looped her arm through Ty’s elbow in an attempt to steer him toward the door.

  “Say good-bye, Ty,” she murmured. “Now.”

  At first she was afraid he wasn’t going to budge, but then he slowly nodded.

  “Call me, Sunny,” he said. “I’d like a chance to get to know you. That’s really all I came to say.”

  Kat’s heart ached for him as they walked out the door. Sunny hadn’t even said good-bye.

  Chapter 9

  TY CHANDLER’S address was burning a hole in Sunny’s pocket. If he was the real deal, then he just might be the answer to her prayers.

  Not that she needed or wanted a dad anymore. Those days were behind her. But now she might have somewhere to run to, somewhere to get away and think about things.

  Right now, anyplace was better than here.

  It wouldn’t be easy to leave. No doubt about it. Callie and Jamie, Butch and Leaf were her family—all the family she’d ever known—and like real family, they wanted her to stick around. More than that, they needed her. She was the one who brought in the most money, and lately there was never enough.

  She hadn’t ever dreamed of leaving. There had never been a glimmer of hope before.

  But getting away, even for a while, wouldn’t be easy.

  She glanced at Callie, who was still sitting on the couch with French Fry on her lap. She couldn’t even tell Callie what she was planning. If Jamie found out, he would put such a guilt trip on her that she probably wouldn’t have the nerve to leave.

  Who’d have ever thought her dad would magically show up at the door when she most needed help?

  As soon as Chandler left, Sunny stepped away from Jamie, pretending not to give a damn about what just happened—a real chall
enge, considering all the possibilities and questions running through her mind.

  She’d watched Ty Chandler and the woman closely, wondered how they were connected, if they were screwing each other. If so, it didn’t show.

  She wondered how he’d found out about her.

  Chandler had acted real intense. As if he actually cared whether or not she wanted to talk to him.

  Go figure.

  “So, what’d he want? Why did he ask you to call him?” Jamie scratched his matted dreadlocks.

  She tried not to notice the grease stains beneath his nails or the smell of automotive fluids that permeated his clothes. He wasn’t much taller than she, certainly nowhere near as tall or muscular as Dodge had been, but Dodge wasn’t here anymore.

  “Don’t ever look back, Sunny. It’s a waste of fucking time.”

  Her mom hadn’t taught her much of anything else. What kind of a guy was Chandler, if he’d been mixed up with her mom? Amy Simmons had been a real piece of work, certainly no model mother. Far from it.

  Sunny caught Callie’s eye and tossed her a warning glance that as good as said, If you give Jamie any details, I’ll have to hurt you. The fourteen-year-old was feeding the baby again, scraping sick-colored orange goo from French Fry’s chin with a plastic spoon.

  “Sunny? What’s up?” Jamie was waiting for an answer. No way in hell was she telling him that Ty Chandler had asked her to visit him.

  Sunny shrugged, looked Jamie straight in the eye. “He said he’d like to get to know me, that kinda thing. Said if I ever wanted to talk, I could call him, you know? But I told him I didn’t need him hanging around.”

  The lie slipped from her tongue so easily, she sounded so sincere, that she amazed herself.

  Callie finished feeding French Fry, wiped her up with a paper napkin, and tossed it on the coffee table beside the empty carrot jar. The toddler started waving her hands and talking gibberish.

  Across the room, Butch dropped the television remote onto the chair he’d just vacated, belched, and then reminded Jamie that it was time to get going. Jamie turned to Sunny.

  “You ready? We need to get on the road. Fontana tonight.’

  “Yeah. Let me get my jacket.”

  God, I’m tired, she thought. The routine was wearing on her, getting her down. Especially without Dodge.

  TY LOOKED SO tired and dejected when they left Sunny’s apartment that Kat had driven with him straight to Long Beach, fed him, and then taken him home. She’d never asked a man over before. Jake certainly didn’t count—and besides, she hadn’t exactly invited Jake over, he’d barged in after driving her car home from the hospital.

  She regretted having Ty there the minute they walked through the door and everything seemed to move to a more intimate level. They were alone in her house, where she slept, showered, ate, hung out.

  Bad idea. Bad, bad idea, Vargas.

  She’d broken another cardinal rule tonight by taking pity on him, but he didn’t seem in any condition to be left alone at a motel.

  He sank into her sofa and didn’t move. She left him staring into space while she went to collect a blanket and pillow. When she returned, she tossed them at him to see if he was dead or just comatose.

  He snagged them both without looking up.

  She asked, “What are you thinking?”

  He shook his head. “I was just thinking what a dolt I must have sounded like today. I don’t even remember what I said.” He groaned and punched the pillow. “I didn’t ask if she was in school or if she had some kind of a job. I just assumed she would want to pick up and go back to Twilight with me.”

  He shoved the bedding on the floor and dropped his head to the back of the sofa with a groan. “You think there are any self-help books for this kind of thing?”

  “Maybe. We can always check out the late-night Jerry Springer episode descriptions in the television guide.” She walked into the kitchen for a bottle of wine.

  “I can’t get over how beautiful she is. Do you think she’s pretty?”

  Kat paused with her hand on the refrigerator handle and stared blankly at the faux-brick linoleum floor.

  “Actually she’s stunning.” After a pause she asked, “Does she look like her mother?”

  “Yeah. Only much prettier. She looks a little like my grandma, too. I knew she was mine the minute I saw her.”

  Kat sighed and wondered why it somehow mattered that Sunny looked exactly like Amy, that she’d forever remind Ty of his first love. “Want a glass of wine?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  She had to dust a second glass, not easy with one hand wrapped like something out of Abbott and Costello’s Meet the Mummy.

  Back in the living room, she noted he hadn’t moved. The pillow and blanket were in a heap on the floor at his feet.

  Melancholy didn’t suit him, and she doubted he’d wallow in it very long. He was an outdoors man, used to action, but there was nothing he could do to change Sunny’s mind.

  “What would you do right now if you were in Alaska?”

  He looked up, leaned forward, and picked up the wineglass she’d set on the coffee table. “What do you mean?”

  “To let off steam in the land of the Kodiak. What would you do?”

  He shrugged. “Go hiking. Roll up a tent and a backpack and take off. Camp out alone for a few days to clear my head.”

  “So why not do that when you get back to Twilight Cove?”

  Finally. Half a smile. “I’ll probably go fishing instead.”

  “Good idea, as long as you remember to share.”

  “You bet.” He raised the glass, silently toasted, and took a drink. “Thanks, Kat. For everything.”

  “Don’t thank me. Maybe I haven’t done you any favors.”

  “Maybe she’ll call.”

  “You really think so?”

  He shrugged again. “A guy can always hope.”

  She turned on the television. Knowing how bad he felt was breaking down all her defenses. She found herself wanting to sit beside him and give him something else to think about.

  TY FINISHED HIS wine and watched Kat sit at her desk and start to flip through the Pennysaver throwaway ads and Have-You-Seen-Me? missing-kids postcards. Bulk mail. The stuff of future archaeological digs in mountains of landfill.

  “Thanks for letting me stay here. Otherwise I’d be moping around by myself.”

  “No problem. Always room for another moper on my sofa.” She smiled but didn’t look up as she paused for the briefest of seconds before she continued sorting. “Friends don’t let friends mope alone.”

  He tried not to laugh and wondered if she ever took her own advice. She was definitely uncomfortable being alone with him. The difference in her was obvious.

  Earlier, at Sunny’s apartment, she’d been confident and poised. She’d stood up for him more than once. But now she was having a hard time settling down, as if she didn’t know what to do with herself.

  “Was private investigating something you always wanted to do, Kat? She dumped the last of the junk mail and sat back, started twirling the stem of the wineglass between her thumb and forefinger, swirling wine up the sides.

  “I’d never thought about it in my life. I was desperate for a job and Jake Montgomery’s ad sounded interesting. He hired me to answer the phone, run errands, that kind of thing. I found out I was an adrenaline junkie and really got into it. I worked on getting the requirements for a license out of the way and a little over two years later, we were partners.”

  “Now you’re on your own.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes filled with shadows again.

  “Were you in love with him?”

  “Who?” She set her wine down.

  “Montgomery. Were you ever in love with him?”
r />   Her hair gently swayed against her shoulders as she shook her head. “No. We were just friends.”

  His gaze touched her all over, moved to her bandaged hand, and his insides involuntarily clenched. She looked so sensual, even in the casual way she sat there with her bare foot tucked under her and her head propped on her hand.

  She was easy in her skin, a woman confident in herself and her looks, one who wouldn’t really care if anyone thought she was beautiful, even though she definitely was stunning.

  “Kat?”

  She looked pensive, almost wary when she finally met his eyes.

  “Come over here. Please.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she got up and walked across the room to sit beside him. She didn’t say a word when he reached for her bare foot, but she tensed up until he began to massage her arch.

  “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” She leaned back, let him rest her foot on his knee. Her feet were small, but they fit her. Her toes were tapered, neatly polished a deep red.

  “I’ve been told I’m good at it.”

  “You mean I’m not the first? That’s no way to make a girl feel special.”

  “Somehow I get the distinct impression you don’t let anyone treat you special.” He paused, cradled her foot in his hands.

  At first she didn’t say a word. Didn’t respond other than to stare into his eyes.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, and yet there’s no man in your life—”

  “Are you sure?”

  He looked around the room, at her cluttered desk, her pile of videos, the clothes hanging on an exercycle in the corner. From where he sat he could see into the efficiency kitchen.

  “My guess is that you hole up here with your stack of movies and eat take-out meals alone and dress on the run because you push yourself to work constantly I saw your calendar in the kitchen. Tae Kwon Do and office hours. Not much else there. You told me yourself that you’d never been married but didn’t say why. You’re house-sitting alone—”

  She cut him off. “None of that adds up to proof of anything.”