by Elle James
Dix nodded toward the little girl laughing at the dog. “You have Leigha because of it. Five years is a long time for her mother to keep her from you. Are you sure she’s your daughter?”
His lips thinned and a fierce frown pushed his eyebrows downward. “My name is on the birth certificate.”
“Her mother could have lied. They have DNA tests they could conduct to prove lineage.”
Stratford pushed to his feet, placed the basket on the ground and waited for Dix to move to the side.
She rose and lifted one end of the blanket while her client took the other, and they met across the hems, their hands touching, an electric shock running up Dix’s arms into her chest. Her gaze captured his and she knew. “You don’t want to know for certain, do you?”
“My name is on the birth certificate,” he repeated firmly. “That’s all I need to know.”
A glance at Leigha reinforced his conviction. That would be all she’d need to know, too. The little girl was what was important. Making certain she had a loving, happy, healthy environment to grow up in was all that mattered.
But that niggle of doubt crept into Dix’s thoughts. Holy hell. What if Leigha wasn’t even Stratford’s daughter?
* * *
Andrew had enjoyed the picnic up to the point where Dix had challenged Leigha’s lineage. After what Jeannette had tried to do to the child, Leigha had been in the hospital for a week, recovering from smoke inhalation and the trauma of being caught in a horrific apartment fire.
He’d insisted on the best care and treatment money could buy. Moving her to a private room in one of the most reputable children’s hospitals in the city was only a fraction of what he’d done for her. He’d been there every day that he could, putting off his own surgery until Leigha was in the clear. With his hand and face bandaged, he’d probably scared her more than reassured her. But someone had to be there when she’d cried for her mother, unable to understand why she wasn’t there.
His heart had broken into a million pieces when tears fell from her eyes, soaking the sheets. He’d wanted to take all of the pain from her and make her life better. When she’d asked who he was, he didn’t feel like he’d earned the right to tell her he was her daddy. So he’d said he was Mr. Stratford, her friend.
Leigha had accepted it and calmed down. She looked forward to his visits with her every day. In the meantime, Andrew had had his lawyers do whatever it took to transfer guardianship of the little girl to him. Whether it was through lawful or criminal channels, they were able to produce a birth certificate bearing Jeannette’s name as Leigha’s mother and Andrew Stratford as her father.
Everything else was a formality. With an overburdened foster care system, the judge had ruled in favor of granting custody to the biological father who had proved he could afford to support the child.
He’d hired a nanny to care for Leigha while he’d gone through several surgeries on his hand. When he could get away, he’d packed up what he wanted from his apartment, loaded Leigha onto a chartered plane, and the two of them had left New York City behind to start a new life together.
They’d been in Oregon for over eight months. Andrew hadn’t known what to expect, but he was no closer to building a good relationship with his daughter. He didn’t know how. They’d lived in the same house and shared meals, but Leigha had withdrawn into a very quiet, reserved child. Until Andrew had brought a wiggly black puppy home from town.
Brewer had helped Leigha out of her shell a little, and she’d transferred all of her love and attention to the dog.
By then, enough people had called her his daughter that she had to know he was her father. But still, she hadn’t called him Daddy.
And he hadn’t been much of a father to her. Sure, he’d given her a better place to live than in that ratty apartment in the Bronx, but he hadn’t shown her the love he knew she needed.
He didn’t know how to. His parents hadn’t been the demonstrative type. Hugging was almost a painful necessity on rare occasions.
Watching Dix gather their things, he felt a little stab of jealousy at how easily she’d fit into Leigha’s life. Seeing them lying in the same bed the night before had been bittersweet. They’d looked like they were mother and child. It had warmed his heart and left him cold at the same time.
Leigha needed a strong female influence in her life. Dix, with her background in the military and her MMA fighting, would make an excellent role model. She could even teach her how to defend herself should someone attack her.
What left him cold was the possibility Leigha wasn’t his child. If not his, whose was she? Some deadbeat who wouldn’t want her anyway? Wasn’t that what Jeannette had screamed at him? Nobody wanted Leigha.
Jeannette had been wrong. Andrew wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. More than that, he wanted her to be happy. Rather than risk losing her after what they’d survived together, Andrew preferred to live with the burning question. Was she his biological daughter?
Chapter 8
Andrew carried the basket and the blanket and led the way back through the woods to Stratford House, more somber than when they’d set out on their little adventure. As they neared the path leading past the high cliffs, he glanced down at the water below. Had he died, what would have become of Leigha?
He’d had his attorney set up a trust for Leigha. Everything he owned would go into that trust to be paid out to his daughter over her lifetime. No matter if she was his or not, she’d get everything he owned as it was spelled out in his will. But if he died, he had no one to leave her with. He hadn’t made any friends since he’d been back in Oregon, rarely leaving his house to go into town.
For Leigha’s sake, he needed to remedy that oversight and find someone he felt confident could raise Leigha with the love and kindness she needed. After being pushed over the edge of the cliff, he couldn’t guarantee he’d be alive to see her all the way to maturity.
Dinner out in Cape Churn might give him the opportunity to work toward finding godparents for his daughter. He needed a backup plan to ensure Leigha’s future happiness.
They returned to the house without incident.
Andrew left Leigha and Dix in the kitchen unloading the leftovers from the basket into the refrigerator. He checked his email and phone messages and then headed upstairs to his bedroom, where he showered and slipped into black slacks, a silver button-down dress shirt and the black leather shoes he used to wear when he went out to the nightclubs in Manhattan. Though most folks dressed more casually in Cape Churn, Andrew wanted to look good. He skipped the tie, leaving the top button undone.
He was surprised at how nervous he felt at going out in public. Before “the accident” he’d gone out practically every night of the week. He really had no reason to feel nervous. So he had a scar slashing across his face and his hand was mangled with burn grafts and now stitches. At least he still had his life and that grafted hand had helped save him from falling to his death.
He squared his shoulders and stepped into the hall.
Leigha came out of her room a second later, smiling. She wore a pretty powder blue sundress and white sandals. Her hair was pulled back on both sides with a yellow barrette. She spotted Andrew and her eyes widened. “You look like a handsome prince,” she exclaimed and ran to wrap her arms around his waist.
“Then you must be my princess.” He lifted her up into his arms, trying not to wince when he disturbed the stitches. “May I have this dance?”
She giggled and laid her hand in his damaged one.
Andrew danced around the corridor with his daughter in his arms. It might be silly to onlookers, but it felt right to him. And the smile on Leigha’s face was worth looking like a fool.
When he made another turn, he caught a glimpse of someone standing in the hallway and he came to a halt, his mouth falling open and
his pulse slamming through his veins. “Miss Reeves?”
“Dix!” Leigha squirmed out of Andrew’s arms and ran to Dix. “You’re like a beautiful fairy princess.”
Dix’s face flushed a pretty pink, complimenting the flowing white-fabric dress that draped off her shoulders, hugged her waist and fell in soft layers that floated down to her knees. Every time she moved the skirt swayed around her like wisps of clouds. “You must be my fairy princess sister, then. You’re adorable.” She bent to kiss the top of Leigha’s head.
“Come see Mr. Stratford. He’s our prince.” Leigha grabbed Dix’s hand and pulled her toward Andrew.
Dix stopped in front of him and smiled. “Well, aren’t we dressed up for a night on the town?”
“Indeed we are.” He offered his arm to Dix and his hand to Leigha. “Shall we?”
Dix nodded and placed her hand in the crook of his arm.
They descended the grand staircase like royalty.
While the ladies waited in the foyer, Andrew went out to the garage and brought out his black SUV and swung around the front of the house.
He and Dix buckled Leigha into a booster chair in the backseat. Then Andrew followed Dix to the passenger side of the SUV and held the door for her.
She hesitated getting in. “Just so you know, I’m armed, should anyone try to hurt you or Leigha.”
“Armed?” His gaze swept over her body, his brow rising. He couldn’t see any sign of a handgun on her.
She slid her skirt up her thigh, exposing a strap around her leg with a holster and an H&K .40-caliber pistol. Some men might consider her carrying a weapon somewhat intimidating. Andrew found it sexy as hell. He wanted to slide his hand up the inside of her thigh and touch the cold, hard weapon lying against her warm, soft skin.
He held the door while she climbed in, her dress hiking up as she settled in her seat. Once again, Andrew had a clear view of her legs. Tanned and smooth, with well-defined muscles and narrow ankles, they would wrap nicely around his waist. He resisted the urge to reach out to trace his fingers along the length of those sexy legs. She was his employee. He was her client. He risked losing her as a bodyguard if he crossed the line.
His body tense, his groin tight, Andrew closed the passenger door, rounded to the driver’s side and got in.
The trip to town took only fifteen minutes. The sun was setting as they pulled into the parking lot of the Seaside Café. The sun’s rays glittered like amethysts across the bay, turning gentle waves into sparkling jewels.
Many cars filled the parking spaces. He had to search for an empty one. Which meant the café would be busy and full of people. For a moment he considered turning around and going back to the house. After spending the past year as a recluse, he didn’t look forward to entering a crowded room full of people who would stare at his face and hand.
“I want chocolate ice cream,” Leigha said, bouncing in her booster seat. “Please.”
One glance at his daughter’s shining eyes and Andrew knew he couldn’t disappoint her. He unbuckled his seat belt, sucked in a deep breath and got out of the SUV.
Dix was out and already unbuckling Leigha’s belt by the time Andrew made it around to the passenger side.
Leigha took Dix’s hand and grabbed Andrew’s uninjured hand and swung between them all the way into the café.
“Welcome to the Seaside Café,” a friendly voice called out. A woman with gray hair, wearing a soft yellow summer dress and a crisp white apron, hurried toward them, carrying menus. “Three?” She glanced behind them.
“Just three,” Andrew said.
The woman’s smile widened. “Three it is. I’m Nora Taggert. Are you all new in town?”
Andrew swallowed a groan.
Dix chuckled and hid it with a cough.
“Nora, honey, this is Andrew Stratford.” Sheriff Taggert disengaged himself from a seat at a counter and joined Andrew and Dix. “He’s the owner of Stratford House.” The sheriff held out his left hand to Andrew. “So glad you came to town. My wife makes the best meat loaf in the state.”
Andrew carefully shook the sheriff’s hand with his injured one and released it.
Nora swatted playfully at her husband. “Oh, go on. It might not be the best in the state, but everyone tells me it’s the best around here.”
The sheriff nodded to Dix. “Miss Reeves is here to help look out for little Miss Leigha.” He squatted on his haunches and grinned at Andrew’s daughter. “Isn’t that right?”
Leigha stepped closer to Dix, nodding.
Dix dropped a hand to Leigha’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’re getting to know each other.”
“We went on a picnic today,” Leigha offered softly, her eyes lighting up.
“A picnic?” Nora beamed. “I love picnics. Did you take sandwiches or fried chicken?” She held out a hand to Leigha, who took it and let her lead her away to a table in the corner. Dix followed close behind.
“Sandwiches,” Leigha responded.
Andrew realized by keeping to his house, he was depriving Leigha of company and social interaction. He resolved to fix that, as well.
“Everything okay out at the house?” Sheriff Taggert asked.
Andrew nodded. “No further incidents.”
“Glad to hear it.” The sheriff’s mouth firmed into a straight line. “But don’t let your guard down.”
“I won’t.” Andrew stepped around the sheriff and joined the ladies at the table.
“Six years old!” Nora exclaimed. “Such a grown-up little lady. Are you excited about going to school next fall?”
Leigha glanced up at Andrew. “I don’t know.”
“We’ve been home-schooling,” Andrew said. “Mrs. Purdy has been very helpful.”
“I should think so.” Nora smoothed her hand over Leigha’s hair. “As a retired teacher, she’s an excellent choice.” She laid menus on the table and stepped back. “What would you like to drink?”
They gave their orders.
Nora returned with their drinks and took their orders. “While you’re waiting, why don’t you show Leigha the koi pond we installed on the back patio?”
“Would you like that?” Dix asked.
Leigha’s brows dipped. “What’s a koi pond?”
“They’re like really big goldfish.”
Leigha’s eyes widened and she clapped her hands. “May I?”
Dix glanced across at Andrew. “Care to join us?”
He shook his head. “I’ll stay and hold the table.”
Leigha slipped out of her chair and let Dix take her hand as she led her to the back of the café.
Andrew sat back and looked around at the people gathered at the café. Some appeared to be tourists, early for the summer season. Others looked like regulars, there for coffee and pie.
At the table beside him, two young men leaned over a map, talking excitedly. Andrew couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.
“The dive boat captain is ours for the week. We have to make this venture count.”
“No kidding,” the other young man agreed. “I’m spending the rest of my college money on this. If we don’t find something soon, I’ll be working at my father’s machine shop for the rest of my life.”
“The data is all there. We just have to spend some time in the water to locate the ship.”
“What if they got the jewels to shore before they scuttled the yacht?”
“Then it has to be somewhere nearby. I’m not giving up. We’ve spent too much time and money researching this.”
Andrew’s curiosity was captured. He wanted to know what boat they were searching for and what jewels they expected to find.
The front door opened and a couple entered with a blast of cool air.
A slip of paper blew o
ver to land at Andrew’s foot. He lifted it and studied the drawing. It was a detailed sketch of Cape Churn. Other landmarks were noted ringing the coastline, including Cape Churn Marina, McGregor B and B and Stratford House. An X marked a spot in the water just off the coast from Stratford House.
“Sir, do you mind?” The sandy-blond-haired young man from the table beside Andrew stood beside him. “That’s my drawing.”
Andrew handed the drawing to him. “Treasure hunting?”
The young man shot a glance at his partner, who looked enough like him they could be twins.
The other guy shrugged and answered, “Trying.”
“You from around here?” the guy standing asked.
Andrew nodded.
The young man stuck out his hand. “I’m Jared Kessler.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at his partner. “He’s Joe, my brother.”
Andrew raised his bandaged right hand, displaying his stitches. “Are you two related?”
Jared dropped his arm, his lips twisting. “Yeah, we’re twins.”
Joe scooted his chair closer to Andrew. “Do you know if anyone lives in the big mansion on the cliff?” He pointed to Stratford House.
Andrew choked back his laughter. “Yes. Someone lives there.”
“We want to call and ask him if he’d mind if we looked around the caves along the shoreline,” Jared said.
“Yeah,” Joe added. “We don’t want some trigger-happy landowner shooting us for trespassing.”
Andrew dipped his head to hide his smile.
Jared dropped into his seat and pulled it closer. “We’ve been studying the history of Cape Churn and the Oregon coastline for the past two years as a project for our major.”
Andrew’s grandfather had read a lot about the early inhabitants of Cape Churn. He’d told Andrew stories about pirates of the Pacific Northwest and the rumrunners of the early twentieth century. “The West Coast is said to have been a pirates’ haven back in the seventeenth century.”
Jared shook his head. “Oh, we aren’t going back that far.”
“We’ve concentrated our research on a pair of thieves and rumrunners known as the Bonnie and Clyde of the Pacific Northwest—Peg and Percy Malone.”
