by Gina Wilkins
“You were real good, Kelsey. I think Ryan likes you a lot.”
“She likes you, too. I can tell.”
Pip wasn’t ready to be that optimistic. “Maybe.” He sighed. “I wish we’d seen Max today.”
“Max will be a good daddy. He’ll teach you to play football, I bet.”
“Yeah, well, first we’ve got to get him and Ryan together. She sure didn’t say much about him today.”
“No,” Kelsey agreed thoughtfully. “But she smiled at him Sunday. I think she likes him. I bet they’d get married if we asked them to.”
“That’s not the way it works,” Pip answered patiently. “He has to do the asking.”
“He’ll ask,” Kelsey said with unwavering confidence. “Ryan’s beautiful. ”
“Yeah. I think he likes her. We just have to be patient.”
“I’ll try,” Kelsey murmured, starting to sound sleepy now. “But I wish they’d hurry. You said it’s only four more weeks ‘til Christmas and I want to spend it with our new parents.”
Pip bit his lip, keeping his own wishes—along with his worries—to himself.
RYAN WALKED INTO Juanita’s at twelve-twenty the next afternoon, scanning the crowded room for her brother or Max. She didn’t see either of them. She stepped to one side of the bustling reception area to wait for them.
Nick came through the door only minutes later. He greeted her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “Now what’s this all about?” he asked, concern in his dark eyes.
She smiled and patted his arm. “Could we at least find a table first?”
He grimaced in apology at his characteristic impatience. “Sorry,” he said. “You’ve got me curious.”
“There will be two others joining us,” Ryan told the hostess as they were led to a table. Max had called briefly that morning to confirm that he and Juliana West would be joining them. He’d implied that Juliana had some information for them; Ryan told herself that was the only reason she was so eager to see him.
“Two others?” Nick asked curiously, taking his seat.
“Yes. I have a surprise for you, Nick. Who’s your favorite author?”
“Ian Fleming.”
She rolled her eyes. “Make that your second favorite.”
“M. L. Monroe.”
She smiled in relief. “I was afraid we were going to have to go through a long list. Anyway, M. L. Monroe will be joining us in a few minutes for lunch.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. He answers to Max, by the way.”
Nick leaned his elbows on the table, looking at her in surprise. “How did you meet him?”
“It’s a long story—and part of the reason I wanted to talk to you today. But, basically, we met when he came into my shop to buy a doll for his niece.”
“You mean the guy’s local?”
“Yes. He has an apartment uptown. He’s only here part of each year, when he’s not off climbing mountains or jumping out of planes or playing tag with sharks or some other big adventure.”
“I didn’t even know he lived in this state,” Nick said, shaking his head.
“He likes to keep a low profile, apparently. Says he doesn’t care for publicity. I think he’s afraid of being roped into social commitments,” she added wryly.
She glanced across the room, then moistened her lips when her mouth went suddenly dry. “Here he is now.”
Nick followed her gaze to the same hostess who had escorted them to their table and to the two people now following her. “Is that his wife?” he asked, a note of admiration in his voice. “She’s certainly striking.”
Ryan had already seen the woman at Max’s side. As Nick had said, she was striking. There wasn’t a man in the place who hadn’t yet spotted her.
She was tiny—no more than five-two—but had a figure most women would have maimed for. Her hair was a rich, strawberry blond, falling almost to her waist in an untamed mass of tight curls. She was smiling up at Max in a way that made Ryan’s fingers tighten spasmodically around her water glass. And he was smiling back at her.
“No,” she said, her voice curiously flat. “She isn’t his wife. She’s a friend, he said.”
“Mmm. I bet she is,” Nick murmured appreciatively.
Ryan scowled.
Nick stood as Max and the woman reached their table. Ryan introduced Max and her brother.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Nick said, looking sincere. “I enjoy your books.”
Ryan noticed that Max looked a bit uncomfortable again at the mention of his books. He shook Nick’s hand, thanked him quickly, then turned to his companion. “Ryan, Nick, this is my friend Juliana West. She’s the private investigator I told you about, Ryan.”
“Private investigator?” Nick asked, looking from Max to Juliana to his sister. “What is going on here, Ryan?”
Ryan motioned him back into his chair. “Sit down and we’ll tell you.”
Max seated Juliana next to Nick, then took the chair nearest Ryan. He smiled at her as he sat down; her bones seemed to melt in reaction. She straightened her spine with an effort, telling herself she really was getting ridiculous over this man.
She glanced at Juliana and found the woman watching them with bright, amused-looking green eyes. Juliana was younger than Ryan had expected. She couldn’t be any older than Ryan, though she could have easily passed as a college student.
A waiter appeared with order pad in hand. They quickly made their selections.
The two men talked for a time about Max’s books. Nick wanted to know if Max had actually lived any of Montana’s reckless adventures, and the author admitted that he’d researched many of the daring sports he’d described through hands-on experience. Nick seemed fascinated by Max’s brief recounting of some of those adventures.
Ryan found them a bit depressing, another pointed reminder that she and Max had little in common. She was quite sure that her suburban dream would hold little appeal for a man who risked his life regularly.
“Now,” Nick said, when Max made it clear that he’d talked enough about himself and his career, “tell me what’s going on. Why are we here today, Ryan?”
She drew a deep breath and started from the beginning, telling her brother about first seeing Pip and little Kelsey in her doll shop. She mentioned seeing them again at the mall food court the following day, and then having Kelsey show up unaccompanied when Pip had gone to the park.
She told her brother about the conditions the children were living under, about Mrs. Culpepper’s indifference, about the uncertainty of the whereabouts of their guardian and the looming rent deadline. She confessed her concern for the children and her reluctance to contact the authorities on their behalf.
By the time Ryan finished, Nick was frowning heavily, his dark eyes grave. “You understand, don’t you, that you’re taking a risk getting personally involved with these children? Especially without notifying the proper authorities. Going to their apartment, putting them in your car, letting them hang around your shop—you could be opening yourself up for all sorts of trouble.”
“Max has pointed that out several times,” Ryan said dryly. “But surely you can’t expect me to just turn my back and walk away when there’s reason to believe these children need my help.”
“No,” Nick said in resignation. “I wouldn’t expect that of you. So what do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “First maybe we should hear what Max and Juliana have to tell us.”
They waited while their waiter set their lunches in front of them. And then Max picked up his fork and nodded to his friend. “Juliana, why don’t you tell them what you’ve found.”
Juliana referred to a small notebook, which she juggled efficiently as she spoke and still managed to eat. “Opal Coleman is thirty-nine, married once, took her maiden name back after the divorce, no children. Her brother and sister-in-law were killed in a plane crash near Dallas eighteen months ago, leaving her guardian of their children. There’s
one other sister, Essie Coleman Butternut Smith, age thirty-seven, divorced, no children.
“Smith’s last known address was in Boston. I contacted her former employer there and learned that she’d been laid off due to company downsizing. No forwarding address as yet.”
She consulted the notebook, full of what looked to Ryan like indecipherable chicken scratchings. “Opal Coleman quit an assembly-line manufacturing job here in town three weeks ago. Her co-workers said she hated the work, was always complaining about the long hours and low pay. They said she’d found a new boyfriend who talked big about moving to California and making a lot of money. They took off two weeks ago, supposedly to find a job and a place to live before sending for the kids.”
“Did she ever talk about the children to her co-workers?” Ryan asked.
Juliana nodded. “Mostly complaining about what a big responsibility they were, and bemoaning the tragedy that made it necessary that she take them in. Her co-workers said she didn’t seem to actively dislike the children, and no one believed she’d abused them, but she was definitely not a candidate for caretaker-of-the-year, if you know what I mean.”
Ryan winced. “I’m afraid I do.”
“And what the children told you about the plan to split them was true. The co-worker I talked to this morning said Opal had discussed that same course of action with her. She was planning on transferring guardianship of Pip to her sister and taking Kelsey with her to California. Apparently she knew the kids hated the idea and that they’d even threatened to run away rather than to allow it, but Opal seemed determined. I don’t think her new boyfriend likes Pip. She said he thought the boy was too willful.”
“Willful?” Ryan repeated indignantly. “If he meant that Pip is extremely mature and decisive for his age, well, yes, of course he is. He’s had to be. He’s been taking care of himself and his little sister for eighteen months.”
Max touched Ryan’s arm. “Listen to what else Juliana has to say.”
She nodded, her arm tingling where he’d made contact. She ignored that disturbing sensation as she asked, “Have you found either of the aunts’ current location?”
Juliana shook her head. “As I said, Essie moved without leaving a forwarding address—though we can probably assume that Opal knew where she was going. As for Opal herself…” She hesitated, then held up one hand in a gesture of bewilderment. “It’s as if she disappeared off the face of the earth. She and her boyfriend were expected to meet with some of his friends in California. They never showed up. They aren’t registered under their real names in any hotel or motel within a hundred-mile radius of the place where they said they’d be. She charged a tank of gas the day she left, but there have been no charges or bank transfers since.”
Nick rubbed his jaw reflectively. “Sounds like maybe she and the boyfriend are in legal trouble. On the run from the law, maybe. I’ve seen similar cases a few times where people disappeared like this, usually because they had some reason for wanting not to be found.”
“But the children…” Ryan said, frowning in confusion.
“We have to face it, Ryan,” her brother replied gently. “From the evidence we’ve been given thus far, there’s every reason to believe those kids have been abandoned—by both their aunts. If so, they will automatically become wards of the state.”
7
“WARDS OF THE STATE.” Ryan couldn’t seem to stop saying it as she leaned against the wall of the service elevator heading up to the third floor of the mall.
She kept telling herself the words weren’t as cold and intimidating as they sounded—but she couldn’t make herself believe it. She was having a difficult time applying the term to the two children who’d so quickly stolen her affections.
“Ryan, your brother and Juliana promised to do everything they could to find out what’s happened to Opal Coleman,” Max reminded her. “We don’t know for certain that the kids have been abandoned. And if they have, being wards of the state isn’t automatically a bad thing. It only means that the courts become responsible for the children’s welfare, seeing to it that they receive proper care.”
“I know what it means,” Ryan answered wearily. “I just don’t like it. I’d rather take them home with me until we find out something conclusive.”
“Your brother didn’t think that was a good idea,” Max responded. “Not without official permission of some sort. Maybe if Juliana can track down Essie Smith, she’ll make a formal request as the children’s aunt that you baby-sit them for a few days, or something along those lines.”
Ryan nodded. “Maybe she will.”
Max had followed Ryan back to the mall after lunch, when both Nick and Juliana had hurried away to keep previous appointments. He’d claimed he had some more shopping to do. Ryan didn’t believe him, but hadn’t bothered to argue. She hadn’t been surprised when he followed her onto the elevator.
Santa Claus had stepped off just as Ryan and Max prepared to get on. The bearded man had greeted Ryan with a smile, a wink and the reassurance that the elevator seemed “well behaved” today.
She was thinking of him when the elevator bumped—just as it had the time she’d been stuck in it with him. She frowned and muttered, “Oh, no. Not now.”
“What—?” Max began, but was cut off when the car jerked to a stop between the second and third floors. He reached out instinctively to steady Ryan when she stumbled. His hands lingered on her shoulders.
“It stopped,” he said unnecessarily, staring at the frozen floor numbers.
“It did this the other day,” she said with a sigh. “I was stuck in here for about ten minutes with, er, Santa Claus.”
“How did you get out then?”
“I don’t know. We pushed the alarm button a few times, then it just seemed to start up on its own. I’ve ridden it several times since without any problem. I assumed the proper repairs had been made.”
“Did you report the incident to maintenance?”
Ryan cleared her throat. “No,” she admitted. “I got busy and forgot. I guess I thought Santa took care of it.”
Max shook his head and pressed the third-floor button, then the alarm button. Nothing happened either time.
He tugged at the collar of the white shirt he wore beneath a navy-and-green-plaid sweater. “How long did you say you were stuck in here last time?”
“Ten minutes, roughly.” She eyed him warily. “Don’t tell me you’re claustrophobic.”
“Not usually. It’s just that I don’t relish being stuck in an elevator.”
“I know the feeling. I got pretty nervous when it happened to me last time.”
“What did you do?”
“Santa distracted me,” Ryan said with a wry smile, though she had no intention of repeating that conversation for Max.
“A distraction, hmm? Sounds like a good idea.”
Something in his voice made her suspicious. She looked up at him just as he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
If Max’s goal had been to take her mind off the malfunctioning elevator, he succeeded amazingly well. In fact, his kiss cleared her mind of anything but him.
His lips moved leisurely, enticingly against hers, politely inviting her to join him.
Ryan might have resisted if he’d been more aggressive, more demanding. But she found it impossible to resist the hint of a smile in the curve of his lips against hers.
For just one weak moment, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to respond….
The kiss changed.
Sweetness turned to heat. Persuasion to hunger. Patience to greed.
Ryan found herself responding to each change with a growing fervor of her own. Her arms slid around his neck. His hands moved slowly from her waist upward, stroking, exploring, caressing.
She reminded herself that he was all wrong for her. That he didn’t fit in to her plans.
But, oh, he felt so right.
Her heart fluttered. She jerked herself quickly out of his arms and mov
ed away from him until she could feel the cool metal wall of the elevator through her green knit dress.
“I don’t…”
She fell silent, unable to remember what she had intended to say.
“All in all,” Max said, looking almost as dazed as she felt, “I would call that a fairly effective distraction.”
Ryan gulped.
The elevator mysteriously chose that moment to move again.
Moments later, the doors slid open to reveal the third floor. An impatient-looking man waited there, one finger still pressed to the call button. He glared at Ryan and Max as they stepped out past him.
“Stopping the elevator to smooch,” he muttered, dating himself with his phrasing. “How rude.”
Her cheeks flaming, Ryan recognized the man as a salesclerk from the sporting-goods store across from Beautiful Babies. He thought they had deliberately stopped the elevator between floors, she realized in embarrassment. Was it so obvious that Max had kissed her?
She resisted an impulse to lift a hand to her lips to check if they felt any different.
“Ryan,” Max said, following as she turned and hurried toward her shop. “Wait.”
“I have to get back to work now,” she said without looking back at him.
“But I—”
She didn’t pause long enough to let him finish.
Slanting a surreptitious glance over her shoulder, she saw that he stood outside for a long moment, frowning after her. Then he turned abruptly and walked away, his long, graceful strides carrying him swiftly out of sight.
“Was that Max you were talking to?” Lynn asked eagerly, craning her neck to watch him disappear into the crowd of shoppers.
Ryan forced a smile and nodded. “Yes. We were just talking about…about the children,” she prevaricated. “Do me a favor, will you, Lynn? Call the mall office and report that the nearest service elevator seems to have a problem. Twice now it has stopped for about ten minutes between the second and third floors. Each time it mysteriously started again, but I’m afraid someone’s going to be stuck in it for quite a while if repairs aren’t made soon.”
Lynn was fighting a smile. “You and Max were stuck in the elevator together?”