by Linz, Cathie
“So call me. You don’t have to resort to gravel morse code against my window pane.”
“My cell phone was dead.” Julia climbed in the window.
“You could have used a regular phone. It’s almost midnight.”
“I know. I’m not drunk.”
He held her as she swayed. “Of course you’re not.”
“No, really. I only had one glass of wine. It’s more like shock. Angel told me who my father is tonight. Told me his name. Adam—”
“Kemp. Yeah, I know.”
“You know? And you didn’t tell me?” She punched his arm with enough force to make him say “Hey!”
“Don’t hey me,” she angrily retorted. “If you knew, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I only found out tonight.”
“Swear to me. I mean it. Swear to me on . . . on your Harley. May you never ride another Harley in your entire life if you lie. Go ahead, say it.”
“May I never ride another Harley if I lie.”
“You left out the in your entire life part. Say it again.”
He did so, his voice filled with exasperation.
“I’m sorry.” She cupped his face with her hands. “Just don’t ever lie to me, okay? I can take the truth, but I can’t take any more lies. Promise me.”
“I promise.” Even as he said the words, Luke wondered if he even remembered how to tell the truth—and nothing but the truth—anymore.
Chapter Seventeen
Angel nervously adjusted the fuzzy knit scarf around her neck and eyed the people in the line ahead of her. She was trying to look on all of this as a life-enhancing exercise, but she was finding it difficult. After all, she was standing in a Philadelphia bookstore where Adam Kemp was signing his latest book MONEY, MONEY! this evening.
Angel had read about his appearance in the newspaper a few weeks ago. Since then, she’d tried to come up with the right way to tell Adam that he had a daughter. Julia had no idea what Angel intended to do.
The bottom line was that it wasn’t fair for Julia to shoulder the burden of telling Adam what had occurred. If there was any wrath to be faced from the mega-billionaire, Angel planned on facing it herself and shielding her daughter.
Trying to avoid a panic attack, Angel practiced a few deep-breathing techniques and distracted herself by studying Adam’s aura as he sat the table signing books. Lots of red and brown going on—no surprise there, considering red indicated strong energy and brown represented industry and organization.
As for the man himself, he’d aged well. His hair was expensively cut and streaked with silver. His face had an expression of power and confidence while his hazel eyes looked at those around him as if sizing them up and finding most of them lacking.
“Name?” the harried bookstore clerk barked at her.
“I, uh, Angel.”
The clerk wrote it down and moved to the next person in line.
Only three people ahead of her now. Then two. One who talked a bit and wanted mortgage advice. “Read my book,” Adam replied with a salesman’s laugh.
“Next,” another clerk ordered, motioning Angel forward.
This was it. Do or die. “Ethics class, UCLA, you, me, we had sex. We have a daughter. Do the DNA. We need to talk.”
Adam stared at her blankly for a moment while she hurriedly drew another breath.
“Security!” the bookstore clerk called out.
“No,” Adam said, staring closely at Angel. “I know her.”
She was frankly surprised that he remembered her all these years later. True, she hadn’t really changed all that much. Her hair was as curly and long as it was then, still parted down the center, still the same brown color. “I’m sorry to barge in on your booksigning, but I had to speak to you and this is important.”
Adam motioned over a lackey in a suit, an employee of his obviously. “Have her wait in the limo.”
Angel eyed Adam suspiciously. Maybe that was some kind of code line that really meant “Get rid of this nutcase, pronto!”
“I can wait here,” Angel said. “I’ll just stand over there, out of the way—”
But the suited man was already escorting her out. If he tried to get rid of her instead of putting her in a limo, she was going to stage a sit-in.
It wouldn’t be the first time. She’d dressed accordingly, wearing jeans and a thick sweater. After all, it was April and the weather could turn fickle—it was seventy yesterday but right now it was only in the low forties.
“This way please,” the lackey said, leading her to a stretch limo.
As he held the door open for her, Angel abruptly wondered if Adam had any mob connections. Weren’t they always driving off trouble-makers in limos, never to be seen again?
Maybe she should have told someone where she was going, what she planned on doing. What if she disappeared, never to be heard from again?
Who would teach Toni to read auras? Or tarot cards? And what about the llamas? Who would pay for their care? Would Julia sell the animals on the Internet? Would she break them up and sell them to different people? Ricky and Lucy were a couple. What if Lucy was pregnant? The baby would never know its father. Ricky would be a good father llama. He had heart. Unlike Adam Kemp. He probably wouldn’t think twice about making Angel disappear. She should have discussed all these things with Julia. She’d know what to do. She always did.
Luckily, Angel didn’t have time to conjure up any other wild scenarios in her head because Adam joined her.
The lackey handed him a sheaf of papers, a few of which Adam signed and handed back, and the others he studied before looking at her. The lackey, meanwhile, got out and sat in the front of the limo with the driver, leaving Adam alone with her.
“So, Angel, you’ve been a busy girl, I see.” Adam indicated the papers he held in his hands. “Which daughter is the one you’re claiming is mine? Julia or Skye?”
Her jaw dropped. “How do you know their names?”
“Come on,” he chided her. “Surely you don’t think you’re the first woman to accuse me of being the father of their child?”
“I never bothered thinking about it.”
“Seems you do a lot of that. Not bothering to think things through. A tofu hot dog stand in Fairbanks, Alaska?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Come on. What were you thinking?”
“Hey, they eat caribou meat up there. Who knew they’d turn up their noses at tofu?”
“Market research could have told you that. But getting back to this daughter thing—”
“She’s not a thing,” Angel said indignantly. “She’s a wonderful person.”
“After my money, no doubt.”
“She doesn’t want your money, you ass! She’s a librarian. She wants information.”
“To blackmail me with?”
“No!”
“So you’re the one who wants money. I’ve already had you investigated.” He impatiently tapped the papers with his finger.
“But it’s only been a few minutes—”
“I pay people to be the best and be quick about it. The information is preliminary but enlightening. Getting back to your finances, it’s not like you’re rolling in the green stuff.”
“Hey, you were the one who made money your god, not me. I can do without solid gold faucets, believe me.” She’d read something about that in an article about him.
“What about paying the rent?” Adam retorted. “Can do you do without that?”
“I don’t need your money. The only thing I need from you is for you to behave like a halfway decent human being for a change. Be kind to our daughter. Give her time, not money. Let her get to know you. Maybe once she does, she’ll realize what an ass you are and will write you off and kick you out of her life.”
“I’m not in her life.”
“She wants you to be.”
Adam rubbed his forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me about her all those years ago?”
“What would you have done if I had told you?”
“I don’t know. You never gave me the chance to find out.”
“I’m giving you the chance now. The chance to get to know your daughter. It’s a gift beyond value. She’s a gift beyond value. Don’t blow this.”
“I’m going to need those DNA tests for verification. The only reason I didn’t let them toss you out of that store is because there’s a chance she could be my daughter. Shortly after our time together, I had a medical situation that left me unable to have children. So any woman who tried to claim she had my child after a relationship with me after that date was lying. But you . . . this could be possible.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t have any more children.” Her voice softened.
His face hardened. “You try and sell that story to anyone or repeat it to anyone, and I’ll sue the pants off you.”
“I can keep a secret.”
“Obviously. You kept my daughter from me for what . . . thirty years now. The only child I’d ever have!”
She could tell he was getting riled up. Part of her couldn’t blame him. The other part wanted to protect Julia from his anger. “Blame me, not my daughter.”
Adam quickly got himself under control again. “I’ll arrange for that DNA test immediately, and we’ll go from there.”
“Go where?” Angel asked.
“We’ll see.” Adam’s cell phone rang. He spoke for a few minutes and then the limo smoothly pulled over. “My driver will take you wherever you need to go.”
“My VW is parked back by the bookstore. You know, you really should be conserving gasoline by using a more fuel-efficient vehicle. How many miles per gallon does this thing get?”
“I have no idea.”
Angel quickly got out of the limo. “Well, you should think about these things now. You’re a parent. You should work to preserve this planet for your children and grand-children. So I’ll walk back to the bookstore instead of having your driver waste the gasoline to take me there.”
“Suit yourself. You always have.”
As she watched him walk away, she wasn’t sure if he’d just insulted her or given her a compliment.
Julia started her day bright and early with a swab test to confirm her DNA was the same as Adam Kemp’s, the twelfth richest man in America. She still couldn’t believe her mother had taken things into her own hands and gone off to see him at a booksigning, of all things, to tell him about her.
When Julia had asked what his reaction was to the news that he had a daughter, all Angel had said was that he was surprised but pleased. Then she’d gone into the whole “who wouldn’t want you for a daughter” spiel. Which told Julia nothing at all.
“Today’s the big day,” Patty greeted her as Julia walked in the library’s staff entrance at the back of the building.
For a second, Julia’s heart stopped. “Big day?” Did Patty know about the DNA test? How? Sure Alice was good at ferreting out info and gossip, but even so . . .
“The Best Small Towns judging committee is making their official visit to the library today,” Patty said. “You didn’t forget, did you?”
Julia had. “Of course not,” she fibbed.
“They’re supposed to be here in a few minutes. At least we’ve got good weather today. The daffodils are up around the front entrance. Those few days of unusually warm weather we had really made things pop around here. Even the star magnolias are blooming. I just hope we don’t get a frost to kill everything now that it’s come out. The tender shoots might not survive that.”
Tender shoots. That’s how Julia felt at the moment. Like a tender shoot . . . all vulnerable and easily damaged by any coldness aimed her way by her as-yet-unfamiliar father.
Note to self: Get over it.
She couldn’t afford to let her emotions be so easily affected, to wear them on her sleeve. She needed to hold back, put up some protective walls, and see for herself what Adam was like before making any further judgment calls.
Of course, she’d spent the early dawn hours researching him on the Internet. Nothing she’d found had reassured her that he had a warm and fuzzy side.
“I’m so excited about all this,” Patty was saying. “I didn’t think I would be, but I am. How about you?”
“I’m excited, too.”
“What do you think our chances are?”
“I have no idea,” Julia replied, eager to return to work where she could bury herself in familiarity.
An hour later, Frasier brought a group of people over to the reference desk. A wild thought streaked through Julia’s head. Could they tell she was the illegitimate daughter of a multibillionaire? Her outfit sure didn’t show it. The black tailored pants and pink sweater set didn’t scream haute couture. But at least she wasn’t wearing a green polo shirt with the library logo on it. She’d managed to nix that idea, despite Alice’s best efforts to ram it through.
Frasier made the introductions, but she didn’t really register their names. All she noted was that there were four judges, two women, two men. “This is Julia Wright, our reference librarian.”
“Didn’t I see you on the news?” one of the woman judges asked her.
Julia almost freaked. Had the news come out about her relationship with Adam Kemp already? How had that happened?
“I know,” the woman continued. “It had to do with those llamas, right?”
Julia nodded and resumed breathing again. The llamas. Right. She really did need to stop obsessing about her father and focus on the matter at hand here.
“Doesn’t your mother knit those fabulous berets and scarves they sell in a shop here in town?” another woman asked. “I bought a set when I was visiting undercover a few weeks ago. She really does beautiful work.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell her.”
“Are you a longtime resident of Serenity Falls, Julia?” This question came from the older male judge.
“I’ve been here more than three years.”
“What made you select this town over any other?”
She told them the same thing she’d told Luke all those months ago. “I fell in love with it the first time I saw it, nestled in these beautiful wooded hills. It seemed too good to be true.”
“And is it?”
“No.”
“What would you say is the town’s biggest asset?”
“There are too many for me to list just one. But a top five list would include, in random order, the town square; the downtown area with its mix of colonial, federal, and Victorian buildings; the waterfalls; the public library; and of course the friendly people who live here.”
“Well said. And the town’s biggest drawback?”
The people who live here. But she couldn’t really say that.
Alice. But that was another answer she couldn’t use. Then it finally came to her.
“No good Thai take-out,” Julia replied with a grin. “I sometimes miss that.”
“Thank you for speaking with us,” the judge said, pausing to shake her hand. “We really appreciate it. By the way, how are those llamas doing?”
“Just fine.”
“Good, glad to hear it.”
As he walked away with the judges, Frasier gave her a thumbs-up sign behind his back. That or he had an itch between his shoulder blades. She couldn’t be sure which. Just as she couldn’t be sure what she would do or say when she finally came face to face with her father.
After work, Julia headed to Maguire’s to fill Luke in on the latest. He had one of the servers take over his bartending duties and took Julia upstairs so they could talk privately.
“My mother went to see Adam Kemp at a booksigning in Philadelphia yesterday evening and confronted him.”
“She did what? Do you have any idea how risky that was?”
“I didn’t know she was going to do it.” Julia sat on the couch a second before bouncing up and pacing the room. “What do you mean, risky?”
“He could have sicced security on her for one thing.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time
that’s happened.”
“We’re not talking about letting the lobsters go free at a restaurant. We’re talking about a powerful guy here. He’s got a lot of connections. Adam Kemp has a reputation for being ruthless, doing whatever it takes to get whatever he wants. He isn’t above cutting a corner or two to keep things profitable.”
“Yes, I gathered that much when I was researching him on the Internet earlier today. But enough about me.” Even thinking about it made her edgy. “The Best Small Towns judges visited the library today. Did they come to Maguire’s, too?”
“Yeah, they stopped by for a minute or two. Asked me what my favorite thing was in this town. I said you. Then they asked me my least favorite thing.”
“And you said?”
“Everything else in town. They seemed to think I was kidding, so I let them go on thinking that. They had some of Adele’s sweet potato fries and left. They never did get to see the magnificent mural in the pool room.”
“That mural isn’t why I think that room is magnificent,” Julia noted with a sassy grin.
Luke raised a dark eyebrow. “No?”
“No.”
“Then why do you have fond memories of that room?”
“You don’t remember?” she murmured, moving closer to seductively walk her fingertips down his chest. “You were there.”
“Really?” He looped his arms around her waist and tugged her close. “I was present?”
“You were more than just present. You were extremely . . . active. And very educational. Downright illuminating, in fact.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.” She peeled off his T-shirt and reached for his jeans zipper. “Maybe I should refresh your memory a bit?”
“I don’t have a pool table up here.”
“I think we can improvise, don’t you?” She shoved him backward onto the bed.
“Affirmative.”
She straddled his hips and stared down at him with deliberate doubt. “You’re sure a straight-shooter like you can improvise?”
He clearly believed actions spoke louder than words, because he had her naked and was embedded deep within her seconds later. He then proceeded to show her how much he could improvise, muffling her scream of pleasure with his mouth.