She closed her mind to the seductive voice in her head and looked at Blake.
He’d finished scanning the pages and handed them to her. She took them, feeling the jolt of electricity arc between them when their hands touched. The papers’ contents, however, thrust all other thoughts from her mind. One item jumped out immediately. “The mother’s only seventeen!”
Blake nodded, looking grim. “So’s the dad.”
“They’re just kids themselves.”
“No wonder they abandoned Annie,” Blake said. “The parents are probably still in high school, or else holding minimum-wage jobs. How can anyone expect two teenagers to raise twins?”
Marissa found her anger toward Annie’s mother dissipating. Maybe the girl hadn’t wanted to abandon her child, but had had no choice. Another fact on the birth certificate caught her eye. “The baby girl is Tiffany Ann, named after her mother, Melanie Ann Smith.”
Blake groaned. “Blackie has his work cut out for him. There must be tens of thousands of Smiths in Florida.”
“Maybe we’ll be lucky. After all, you guessed Annie’s name right. What were the chances of that?”
“That poor little boy, wherever he is, is Andrew James.”
“After his father, Andrew James Ryarson,” Marissa noted. “With both parents’ names and dates of birth, Blackie should be able to track them down. Ryarson’s a lot less common than Smith.”
“So Blackie locates them. Then what?” Blake asked.
“We find out what’s happened to the baby boy. If the parents want to keep him and give up Annie, we make arrangements for her legal adoption.”
Blake stared past her into space, lost in thought.
“Isn’t that what you want?” Marissa asked.
He nodded, his face a study in determination. “And if they don’t want to keep Andrew—”
“We’ll arrange for his adoption, too.”
“If that’s the case, I want custody of both twins until adoptive parents are found.”
Marissa felt her jaw drop. “Two babies! Are you nuts?”
“If their parents don’t want them, they’ll at least have each other,” Blake said. “We’ll make keeping them together a prerequisite for adoption.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” Marissa said, and at his scowl, added quickly, “but we can ask Debbie to find out.”
“First, we have to locate the parents and Andrew,” Blake admitted.
“Blackie’s the best. If anyone can find them, he can.”
Blake reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You really do think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
She glanced up at him, enjoyed the warmth of his big fingers laced through hers. “In a wonderfully idealistic kind of way. Don Quixote comes to mind.”
“I hope placing those kids together in a loving home isn’t an impossible dream.” His gray eyes blazed with determination.
“If anyone can do it, you can,” she assured him.
“Along with my trusty sidekick, Rissa.” His appreciative grin sent warmth swirling through the pit of her stomach. If she didn’t leave him now, she’d do something she’d regret, since she wasn’t ready to risk her heart again. But how could any warm-blooded woman resist a man who cared so much?
“Your trusty sidekick won’t be worth spit if she doesn’t get some sleep,” Marissa said. “And you have work to do.”
With reluctance, she withdrew her hand from his and hurried from the room before she made a fool of herself by giving in to the temptation to kiss him good night.
LATE THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, Marissa sat in the swing on her parents’ back porch, drinking tea with Suze and watching her nephews play in the backyard. Her four-o’clock appointment had canceled, and, rather than risk running into Blake with her emotions still churning from last night, she’d called her mom and invited herself to supper.
“How’s the search going for Annie’s mother?” Suze asked.
Marissa looked like her mother, but Suze resembled their father, tall and slender with dark hair and eyes. Circles under those eyes indicated a lack of sleep. Suze still hadn’t talked about her marital problems, and Marissa ached with worry for her younger sibling. As long as Suze wanted to avoid the subject, however, Marissa would accommodate her.
“Boston Blackie discovered the parents’ names on the birth certificate at a hospital in Clermont,” Marissa said. “It’s only a matter of time until he finds them. And Annie’s twin brother.”
Suze almost spit her tea in surprise. “Annie’s a twin?”
Marissa nodded. “And Blake wants temporary custody of both of them.”
“What is he, crazy?”
Remembering Blake holding Annie and playing with the children in foster care the day before, Marissa smiled. “Just the world’s greatest softie.”
“And you’re going to help him?”
“Somebody has to. Otherwise, he may run afoul of the law and end up in jail.”
“Blake Adams.” Suze shook her head and wiggled her eyebrows. “You always were hot for him.”
Marissa shifted uncomfortably. Her sister’s reference hit too close to home. “That was then. This is now.”
“I don’t know,” Suze murmured skeptically. “It’s hard to get over that kind of obsession.”
“I was not obsessed!”
Suze tossed her a sidelong glance of disbelief. “For as long as I can remember, from elementary through high school, you spent all your waking hours with that boy. He was here for every birthday, every holiday, as if he was one of the family.”
“Mom felt sorry for him, not having a real family of his own.”
“Oh, yeah. It was all Mom’s idea. And you just tolerated having him around.”
“He was a good friend, that’s all,” Marissa lied.
“Uh-huh. With snapshots of the two of you all over the bedroom. And a whole shelf dedicated to the trinkets and souvenirs he’d given you. Your room was like a shrine. If I even looked like I might touch anything, you’d have scratched my eyes out.”
Suze’s words brought memories of the treasures Marissa had kept tumbling back into her consciousness. The conch shell Blake had given her that he’d found on the beach. The wildflowers he’d picked and she’d pressed and dried between the pages of her textbooks. Blake had been fond of plants even then. She should have guessed he’d grow up to make a business of them. He’d made her a birdhouse out of twigs and woven her a hat out of palmetto fronds. And there were the star charts he’d drawn carefully and accurately on notebook paper during his astronaut phase.
Marissa had cherished each of those special gifts—until Blake had stopped returning her letters, and she’d realized what a fool she’d been to hope for anything more than friendship. Even that friendship hadn’t been important enough for Blake to sustain. When he hadn’t answered her letters her sophomore year in college, she’d cleared the shelves and bulletin board in her room and thrown all her “treasures” away.
After last night, Marissa recognized the feelings she had for Blake went dangerously deeper than friendship. When he’d held her in his arms, she’d found the place she felt she belonged. The place, if she was truthful, that she’d sought ever since she was a child. Trouble was, Blake had given no indication of anything more than friendship.
What about that kiss? her inner voice asked.
Blake was only being comforting, kind, she assured herself, afraid to admit his kiss had meant more, not willing to deal with the possibility that he wanted more than friendship. She had screwed up so badly with Harry, she didn’t want to risk messing up her relationship with Blake, even if it meant remaining simply friends.
“Well?” Suze broke into her thoughts.
Marissa blushed, wondering how long she’d been daydreaming about Blake. “Well, what?”
“You’re sure he’s just a friend?” Suze fixed her with a stare, her dark eyes filled with doubt. “Is that why you’re living in his house?”
“Oh, Suze. Bel
ieve me, there’s nothing between us.” That much was true. Marissa wasn’t going to allow it. But how could she explain that she’d left home to give her sister space to deal with her heartache?
Realization dawned in her sister’s eyes. “You moved out because of me, didn’t you?”
“Partly,” Marissa admitted with reluctance. “I thought you’d want the room to yourself until—”
“Until I go home to Michael?” Bitterness edged Suze’s voice. “Doesn’t look like that’ll happen.”
Against her better instincts, Marissa asked, “What’s wrong, Suze. Not another woman?”
At the stricken look on her sister’s face, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.
“It might as well be,” Suze answered.
This time Marissa said nothing.
They sat for several minutes with Marissa pushing the swing with her toes, listening to the creak of the wicker, the laughter of the boys floating across the yard and the rustle of the breeze in a nearby palm. The afternoon was calm, peaceful, but Marissa could sense the turbulent emotions causing Suze’s demeanor.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Suze finally spoke. “Michael’s a good man. A loving, faithful husband and father, a good provider. A great guy. I fell in love with him at first because of his wonderful sense of humor.”
“I thought it was his terrific body,” Marissa teased.
“That, too,” Suze admitted with a grin before her expression clouded again.
“And you still love him?” Marissa dared to ask.
“Of course,” Suze stated, as if surprised her love for Michael could be an issue.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“For the past few years,” Suze said, “ever since Jarrett was born, I’ve been begging Michael to spend more time with his family. When he consistently refused, I decided to move out.”
“Is his business taking all his time?” Michael was a successful electrical contractor, making a substantial income off the current building boom.
Suze shook her head. “He puts in long hours. But on weekends and in the evenings, he doesn’t give the boys the attention they need. Michael’s always out on the boat with the guys or planted in front of the television watching ESPN.”
Marissa frowned. “Let me get this straight. Michael isn’t spending enough time with his kids, so you’ve taken them away from him completely? Where’s the logic in that?”
Suze’s lower lip trembled. “I’d hoped the shock of us not being there would wake him up, make him realize that his boys are growing up without him.”
“Has it worked?”
She shook her head. “It just made him mad. He thinks I’m overreacting. Oh, he wants us home, but only under his terms.”
“Which are?”
“Same old same old. Daddy does as he pleases.”
Marissa sighed. Michael, as Suze had said, was a good man. He just had a lot of growing up to do.
“I’ve told him we’ll come home,” Suze said, “but only on one condition. We have to work with a marriage and family counselor.”
“Did he agree?”
“Not yet.”
“But you think he will, eventually?”
Suze’s face was portrait of misery. “I have no idea.”
Marissa grabbed her sister’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t worry, Suze. Michael will come around. He’s not anything like Harry. This time next year, this will all be just a memory.”
“Dear God, I hope you’re right.”
“Marissa?” her mother called from inside the house.
“Out here, Mom.”
Suze quickly wiped away tears with the back of her hand and forced a smile as their mother joined them on the porch.
“Your father called,” Laura announced.
“How’s the trial going?” the sisters asked in unison.
“Not well. The prosecution’s introduced some surprise witnesses. Morgan needs Boston Blackie to fly to California to help with the investigation.”
Disappointment washed through Marissa. “But Blackie’s so close to finding Annie’s parents.”
“I know,” her mother said in her most consoling tone. “Your father’s instructed him to hand all his notes over to you before he leaves.”
Suze nudged Marissa with her elbow and grinned. “You always wanted to be Nancy Drew. Why don’t you look for the parents and the other twin yourself?”
“You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you?” Marissa asked.
Suze hugged her. “I just want things to work out, if not for me, at least for those two babies.”
Marissa hugged her back. “Things will work out. For everyone. I promise.”
Praying silently she would be able to keep that promise, she followed her mother into the house.
THE NEXT MORNING, Marissa drove across the causeway to Dolphin Beach, where Blake was supervising the installation of landscaping for a newly constructed Mediterranean-style mansion. Its stuccoed facade, painted a muted gold, and a roof of terra-cotta tiles glimmered in the morning sun. Curving arches revealed shady patios with floors of colorful mosaic tiles and quarried stone. Behind the house, rolling dunes anchored against the wind by fields of sea oats, stretched to a white sugar-sand beach along the Gulf of Mexico.
This spot had been deserted when she and Blake had been kids. They’d often ridden their bikes here to swim and picnic. On this very spot, she’d broken her curfew to stay up all night and watch meteor showers. The new mansion was elegant, well designed and expensive, but Marissa couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss.
Progress, she thought with a grimace.
She parked behind a flatbed truck loaded with pallets of St. Augustine sod, climbed out and scanned the crowd of workers for Blake.
She found him at the corner of the house, directing the operator of a crane lowering a trio of towering palms with gracefully arched trunks and feathery fronds into position. He’d removed his shirt, and, in the heat of the sun, sweat glistened from the evenly tanned muscles of his arms and chest. The sight made her mouth go dry and her legs threaten to wobble.
The awkward kid with knobby knees who’d showed little promise of growing into his towering height was definitely only a memory. The mature Blake was flesh and blood, the most gorgeous specimen of male perfection she’d ever laid eyes on. Remembering the feel of those arms around her and the honeyed taste of his kiss, she was glad for the presence of at least a dozen workmen. Their presence prevented her from doing something stupid, like throwing herself against the attractive expanse of bare chest and begging him to kiss her again.
She took a deep breath in an effort to calm her reaction. It wasn’t Blake per se who heated her blood, she assured herself, but merely the fact that she was a woman at her sexual peak who’d gone too long without lovemaking. Any handsome man would evoke the same response.
Yeah, right, a voice in her head taunted. Try convincing yourself a tornado is only a breeze.
Before she could carry her inner debate further, Blake glanced up and spotted her. After making a final adjustment to the angle of the palms, he signaled the crane operator to set them down and headed toward Marissa. He moved with the grace of an athlete and exuded confidence, a man who knew what he wanted and was doing it. She experienced a pang of envy and wondered what being so satisfied with one’s life must feel like.
Glad that her sunglasses covered the appreciation that had to show in her eyes, Marissa called to him as he approached. “The plantings really dress up the place. Nice job.”
He stopped a foot from her, which was still too close for comfort. “What brings you out here?”
“News from Blackie.” Marissa clasped her hands behind her back. “You want the good or the bad news first?”
He yanked out a towel tucked into the waist of his cargo shorts and wiped his face. “Let’s get the bad over with.”
“Dad’s called Blackie to California to work on his case. He’s had to give up our search.”
Disappointment glinted briefly in Blake’s eyes. “And the good news?”
“After supper at Mom’s last night, Blackie stopped by the house on his way to the airport. He gave me all his notes on the investigation so far. He has a lead on Annie’s father.”
Blake dried his arms and flung the towel onto a pile of emptied plant containers. “I heard you come in late last night. Why didn’t you tell me then?”
Marissa struggled for nonchalance. “You were working and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
She couldn’t admit she hadn’t trusted her reactions enough to risk confronting him late at night in the intimacy of his office.
“I’m working now.” His voice was questioning, not complaining.
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” she said hurriedly, and turned to go.
“Wait.” He reached toward her, grabbed her hand and tugged her back to face him again. “That’s not what I meant. With those palms in place, the crew can finish without me. Blackie’s off the case, so what’s our next step? Hire another detective?”
He kept his fingers laced through hers so easily, a casual onlooker wouldn’t glance twice, but Marissa was all too aware of the hunger his touch generated, producing an overwhelming desire for more. She pulled her hand away on the pretext of shading her eyes from the sun’s glare off the water behind the house.
“That’s another reason I didn’t bother you last night,” she said. “I wanted to check on other investigators this morning before talking with you. I called three other private detectives the firm has used in the past. None is available for weeks.”
A frown wrinkled his broad forehead. “We have to find out what’s happened to Annie’s twin. The sooner the better.”
“I agree. That’s why I cleared my calendar for the next several days. I’ll take up the search where Blackie left off.” Not only did Marissa want to solve the mystery of Annie’s missing twin and parents. The search would take her up the state, away from the tantalizing proximity of Blake Adams. By the time she returned, she could either bunk with Suze at her mom’s or perhaps find an available condo for rent. Convinced her attraction to Blake would lead nowhere, she might as well put distance between them and end the delicious torture of longing for what could never be.
Verdict: Daddy Page 10