"Do either of you know exactly what happened?" Bethany looked at her mother first, but when Eileen gasped and clutched her chest, Bethany glanced at Seth.
"James told us that when he picked her up at school, she was in tears," Seth explained. "All she'd said to him was that some of her classmates had made comments about her mother being a murderer."
"Oh, hell!" Bethany swung around quickly and ran out of the living room, into the massive entrance hall and past the marble fireplace that graced the back wall.
Eileen looked pointedly at Morgan. "Bethany has built her whole life around that child. She's raised her all alone, as I did her, without a father."
Morgan didn't know what Eileen expected him to say. He sensed that she blamed him for Anne Marie's fatherless state. But he had no answer for her, no explanation for why both she and Bethany had been widowed in their twenties and left with a child to rear alone. He nodded to her, then gave Seth a quick appraisal, noting that the man was elegant, handsome and closer to Eileen's age than her daughter's.
Following Bethany, he found her with James, who sat on the glistening hardwood floor outside the powder room, his arms draping his drawn-up knees.
"I can't get her to come out," James said. "She's been in there for the past hour and a half. She said that she's never coming out."
"Anne Marie?" Bethany grasped the brass doorknob. "Sweetheart, please come out and talk to me."
"Oh, Mama, I—I hate them," Anne Marie cried. "I hate all of them!"
"Come out of the powder room and tell me what happened." Twisting the doorknob, Bethany found the door locked.
"How can I ever face anybody again?" Anne Marie asked. "I got so angry that I cried and I said some terrible things. Things I shouldn't have said."
"It doesn't matter what you said," Bethany told her daughter. "Whatever happened, we can talk about it and work through it together."
"Tell James to go away," Anne Marie said. "I don't want him to see me looking like this. My eyes are all swollen and red and … and I—"
"Hey, I'm leaving." James jumped to his feet. "But I'm not going far. So when you need me, I'll be around. OK?" He looked at Bethany and shrugged, then walked off down the hall.
"James is gone," Bethany said.
The door opened a fraction. Anne Marie peeked outside, then continued opening the door very slowly. The moment Anne Marie emerged from her hideaway, Bethany held out her arms. The child dashed into her mother's embrace. Stroking her back comfortingly, Bethany hugged her daughter close, while they both cried.
"It's all right, sweetheart," Bethany said. "Go ahead and get it all out. Cry all you want to."
"Tiffany Lang said that you'd probably been having an affair with Jimmy and … oh, Mama, I wanted to strangle her." Anne Marie lifted her head from her mother's shoulder.
Bethany reached out and wiped the girl's tear-streaked face. "Tiffany is a silly, jealous-hearted child. She's never been your friend. She's always disliked you because you're prettier and smarter. You shouldn't have paid any attention to her."
"It wasn't just Tiffany. It was Kaitlyn and Allison, too. They were just hateful! They said that you were going to prison for the rest of your life and that their parents were going to make sure I wouldn't be allowed to attend the Redmont Academy anymore."
"I'm sorry that this happened." Bethany grasped her daughter's shoulders, encouraging her to stand straight and tall. "But it's at moments like this that we learn who our true friends are. It's a bitter lesson, but one that will make you a better person in the long run. You're strong. Remember that. You're not going to let what some silly, spiteful little girls say make you run and hide, are you?"
Anne Marie straightened to her full five feet nine inches, squared her broad shoulders and tilted her chin. Swallowing the residue of her tears, she smiled triumphantly at Bethany.
"I most certainly am not!"
"Good! I'll give Judy Cordell a call and let her know what's happened. As the Redmont Academy's principal, it will be her job to handle the situation. But she won't be able to prevent whispers and snide remarks behind your back. You'll have to deal with that yourself. But you can do it, can't you?"
"Yes, ma'am. I can, and I will. And when school starts Monday morning, I'm going to be there. And I'm going to look everybody straight in the eye and let them know just what I'm made of."
"That's my girl." Bethany wrapped her arm around her daughter's waist. "Are you ready to go home now? We're grilling steaks and—"
"May I invite James to come over for dinner? He's been just wonderful to me today, and I wasn't very nice to him when he tried to talk me into coming out of the powder room."
"Of course," Bethany said. "Why don't you go back into the powder room, wash your face and then go invite James to dinner? We'll eat in a couple of hours. And tell him to bring his swim trunks."
"Thanks, Mama. You're the best."
Morgan stood several feet away watching the loving exchange between mother and daughter. Comfort and caring. Genuine concern and unconditional support. Where had Bethany learned the art of motherhood? How, with a flighty socialite like Eileen as a role model, had she become such a strong, wise and caring parent?
Anne Marie gasped when she saw Morgan, then smiled and even giggled a little. "Boy, you must think I'm a real whine baby, huh?"
"Not at all," Morgan said. "I think you had a bad day, that's all. And you're lucky enough to have a mother who helped you sort through your feelings and realize that you're tough enough to deal with your problems."
"Yeah, I am lucky to have a mother like mine, aren't I?" Glancing at Bethany, Anne Marie smiled broadly and winked. "See, Morgan thinks you're special, too." She raced off down the hallway in search of James.
"She's right, you know," Morgan said. "I do think you're pretty special. I always did." He cleared his throat. "You have done an amazing job raising that one. You knew exactly what she needed. You knew what to say, how to handle the situation. I can't imagine what I would have done, if it had been my kid. I suppose it's a good thing I never had any children. I'd have probably made a lousy father."
But you are a parent, Bethany wanted to shout. You're Anne Marie's father. And the time may come when you'll have to step in and take over for me. Just as I've been both mother and father to her for fifteen years, you may have to take on the dual role. If I'm convicted of murder. If I spend the rest of my life in prison.
"We don't all start out being great parents, you know," she said. "We learn as we go. I've made my share of mistakes, but two things have always helped me. My love for Anne Marie, and my ability to remember what it was like to be her age."
"Yeah, I remember being fourteen. I was a holy terror. But something tells me that if I'd had a mother like you, she'd have been able to handle me."
Bethany's stomach knotted painfully. Morgan thought Bethany was fourteen. But she wasn't. She was fifteen. Dear God, was that the reason he hadn't questioned her paternity, the reason he hadn't even suspected that she might be his? It was only a matter of time until he learned the truth. That Anne Marie was fifteen. That she'd been born eight months after he left Birmingham. Five months after she married Amery.
"No one could have handled you, Morgan," she told him. "Everyone tried. Even me. And we all failed."
"I'm not that same wild, selfish kid I was back then, any more than you're the same shy, insecure girl. We've both grown up. Matured. Become different people." Reaching out, he ran the back of his hand across her cheek. "I would never hurt you again. I'd never use you. All I want to do is take care of you and help you. I owe you something, Beth, for the way I messed up your life. I promise that I'll do everything in my power to make sure Farraday's real killer is found. I want you and Anne Marie to be able to resume your normal life, to put this whole affair behind you."
"That's what I want, too," Bethany said quietly. "But this nightmare won't ever end for me and Anne Marie and mother and James unless we do find Jimmy's killer. If you can prove who
the real murderer is, then you won't owe me anything. Whatever debt you feel that you owe me will be paid in full."
* * *
Chapter 6
« ^ »
Sunset splattered across the western sky, creating a massive finger-painted canvas of vivid, vibrant colors. Orange overlaid with gold. Lavender edged with pink. And an iridescent scarlet bleeding into the blue. An evening breeze brushed across the treetops, stirring the warm summertime air.
Morgan Kane stood on the lattice-framed wooden deck at the back of Bethany's house and breathed in the delicious aroma of sizzling steaks. The cozy, secure atmosphere of this family-style dinner within the cloistered courtyard of Bethany's backyard could easily deceive any onlooker. Anne Marie and James frolicked in the pool, while Bethany hummed Air Supply's "Making Love Out of Nothing at All," the song on the portable CD player that she'd brought out on the deck.
He watched Bethany as she raised the grill lid and flipped over the steaks, then checked on the foil-wrapped potatoes and ears of corn. She'd pulled her long, dark hair away from her face and secured it with a silver clasp. Loose sepia strands curled about her face. Lowering his gaze down the length of her slender neck and across her bare shoulders, he drank in the sight of her. Small-boned and delicate, her body rounded into feminine curves that tempted a man to reach out and touch. Did she have any idea how sexy she looked in that red halter top and sarong-style floral skirt, a hint of thigh peeping out between the side folds?
He remembered her as a soft, fragile girl with skin like silk. A tender-hearted angel who cried over sad movies and songs. The softness was gone, replaced by a strength, both physical and emotional. Only a hint of the fragility remained. In her facial expressions. In her sad eyes. But her skin looked as if it was still as smooth as silk.
Anne Marie squealed. Water splashed. Morgan turned his attention to the pool. The two teenagers tossed a huge beach ball back and forth. He glanced again at Bethany and caught her staring at him, an odd look on her face.
Was she thinking the same thing he was? That the four of them appeared to be a normal all-American family having a summer cookout. In their case, appearances were most definitely deceiving. Their foursome was comprised, not of Mom, Dad and the kids, but of an accused murderer, a former Navy SEAL-turned-bodyguard, the son of a man recently shot to death and the daughter of the accused.
Morgan was amazed by Bethany's ability to produce order out of chaos, to create warmth and love out of anger and hurt. To see her now, no one would guess that her life hung in the balance, that unless they could find Jimmy Farraday's real murderer, she might well spend the rest of her life in prison.
The very thought that Bethany—his beautiful, sweet, caring Beth—would have to spend one day in prison hurt him deeply, in the very depths of his soul. She was the last person on earth who deserved such misery. She was such a good person. A dutiful, loving daughter, not only to her own mother, but to his. And she was a wise and loving mother herself, providing her daughter with stability and security, even without a father.
He glanced around at the homey setting Bethany had produced in her fern- and flower-adorned rock patio. Festive pink tablecloths covered both black wrought-iron tables and matching pillows decorated the chairs. Candles and fresh-cut flowers graced the center of each table, which had been set with pink and green ceramic dinnerware and pale green goblets. Colas in a silver ice bucket sat on the teenagers' table; a bottle of wine awaited the adults.
Suddenly he was taken back twenty years or more to the garden parties his mother used to give. Huge affairs with hundreds of guests milling around the manicured grounds at their Redmont estate. Claudia had been blessed with an abundance of style and excellent taste, but her old, genteel Southern family had been practically penniless. The Morgans had depended upon their daughters to marry well. Claudia had exceeded their expectations when she'd married Judge William Kane's only son. But Danielle had been unable to snare herself a rich husband, and her son, Amery, had spent his life trying to fit into his wealthy relatives' lives.
Morgan closed his eyes and allowed the pain to spread slowly from his gut to his entire body, then he took a deep, cleansing breath and released the hurt. He could not change the past. He could not undo the damage he'd done. All he could do now was take care of Bethany, and then, when she was truly free, walk away and leave her unharmed by his desire. If only he could have seen years ago, before he'd left Birmingham, what he saw now. If only he could have seen Bethany for the woman she was and not as a potential duplication of his mother.
He'd been so wrong about so many things. His errors in judgment had cost him the one thing he had discovered—too late—he wanted most.
Reminding himself that this modest garden, this small patio, this intimate dinner bore little resemblance to his mother's elaborate affairs, he absorbed the ambience of the moment. Only the beauty of the surroundings and the impeccable good taste of the hostess were similar.
This was a family affair. But not his family. Regretfully he admitted to himself that they could have been his. Just as Bethany could have been his woman forever, Anne Marie could have been his child.
When he left Birmingham sixteen years ago, he hadn't wanted a wife or children. Or so he'd thought. And once he'd lost Bethany, he'd never again considered a permanent relationship with another woman. Now it was too late. He was too old, too set in his ways. If he'd ever been capable of truly loving a woman, he'd lost that ability long ago. He might put his life on the line repeatedly. But he never took a chance with his heart.
And his gut instincts told him that Bethany might have become stronger, wiser and more cautious, but she could still be easily hurt. No matter how much he wanted her, he had no right to pursue her. No matter how tempted he was to try to break through the barriers she'd built around herself, he had to be careful not to let his passion overrule his common sense.
But heaven help him, he had to have her, common sense be damned! He'd never wanted another woman as much as he wanted Beth.
"Hey, Morgan, aren't you coming in for a swim before dinner?" Anne Marie called out to him as she climbed out of the water and up onto the pool's deck.
Smiling, he waved at her. "Not now. Maybe after dinner."
James lifted his muscular body out of the pool and reached for a beach towel lying across the back of a wrought-iron chaise longue. "Hey, Anne Marie tells me that you used to be a Navy SEAL. I bet you can swim like a fish, huh?" The boy eyed Morgan's shoulder holster.
"I do all right." Morgan grinned at the boy, wondering if the kid had any idea just how adept he really was in the water. James couldn't imagine what it felt like to swim in liquid ice off Alaska. He knew nothing of being part of a team that had to carry a 150-pound rubber raft through treacherous waters and overcome every barrier between them and their objective.
"I've heard that SEALs go through something called Hell Week, kind of like fraternities put guys through." James shook the moisture from his dark hair, then vigorously rubbed the towel over his arms and legs.
There was no way he could explain to this eighteen-year-old high school senior what Hell Week meant to a SEAL, Morgan thought. It was the rite of passage to becoming a warrior. Time never forgotten, etched in a man's memory forever, as was the number for his class.
Hell Week taught a man how to turn off pain and focus on his mission, a lesson he should apply to his present situation. He had to turn off the pain of wanting a woman who had told him that she would fight her attraction to him with every breath she took. He needed to focus on his mission—protecting Bethany and proving her innocence.
"I think fraternities are a bunch of bull." Anne Marie dried off her long, slim legs, then wrapped the huge blue-and-green-striped towel around her hips. "And sororities aren't much better. I don't think I'm even going to consider a sorority when I go to college."
"Whatever you do, don't tell Grandmother or Nana." Bethany pinched off a twig from the grape cluster on the fruit plate beside the wine
bottle. "They'll expect you to join either Nana's or Grandmother's sorority."
"Mum's the word for the next four years," Anne Marie said. "No need to upset either of them before it's absolutely necessary. You won't mind will you, Mama, if I don't join your sorority?"
"No, sweetheart, I won't mind at all." Bethany shifted the small grape cluster from one hand to the other. "I want you to make your own decisions and live your own life. You know I'll back you up, whatever you do."
Walking over to Morgan, James nodded toward the shoulder holster he wore. "Do you wear that thing all the time? It makes you look like a cop or something."
"Couldn't you remove it?" Bethany asked. "Just for this evening. After all, I hardly think I'm in danger in my own backyard."
No, she probably wasn't in any danger in her own backyard. Morgan doubted any of Jimmy Farraday's fans would risk arrest just to harass his accused murderer at her home. And the real killer was undoubtedly too smart to get up close and personal, without a damn good reason.
"I'm sorry it bothers you," he said. "But it's necessary." He undid the holster, removed it and laid it on the table. "I'll take it off if it makes you feel more comfortable, but I want it close by."
"Just in case, huh?" James asked.
"Yeah, just in case," Morgan said.
The CD changed from Air Supply's Greatest Hits to Christopher Cross belting out the pulse-pounding "Say You'll Be Mine." James pulled Anne Marie into his arms and danced her around the patio. Bethany popped several grapes into her mouth, then dropped the cluster on the table. Clapping her hands in time to the rhythm, she laughed as she watched the kids cavorting playfully.
Morgan couldn't keep his eyes off Bethany. God, but she was beautiful, her face aglow, her eyes sparkling, her lush body undulating to the music's beat. Without thought, without care, he grabbed her and drew her into his arms. She stared up at him with startled eyes, but allowed him to lead her into a dance. As her breasts brushed across the lower part of his chest, her nipples hardened. Sucking in his breath, he spread his open palm across her spine. The tips of his fingers bit into the top edge of her buttocks.
A MAN LIKE MORGAN KANE Page 10