by Lisa Jackson
“Oh, stop it,” she whispered, angry with herself. Shuddering, she rubbed her arms. Robert meant business. And she was scared. More scared than she’d ever been in her life.
The intercom buzzed. Marcie said, “It’s Mr. Juniper on line two again. Should I, uh, tell him to call back?”
“No . . .” Kimberly shook her head as if Marcie could see through the walls. “I’ll get it.” She picked up the phone, glad for the distraction. “Hello?”
“She’s at it again!” Henry Juniper exclaimed.
“Who’s at what?”
“Carole’s going for blood, I tell you. She’s going to contest the entire will—claims she needs an additional three hundred thousand for taking care of Dad during the last couple of years. And then she wants her legal fees paid on top of that! It’s positively ludicrous.”
“Please, slow down, Mr. Juniper,” Kimberly said evenly, though she was still distracted. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
As Henry Juniper launched into his tale of woe, she listened, but her gaze was fixed on the picture of Lindsay propped on the corner of her desk. Her fingers curled tightly around the telephone, and her jaw set. For the first time in his life, Robert wouldn’t win. The stakes were just too damn high.
* * *
Hours later she’d calmed down. The evening with Lindsay had been special, and she’d tucked the child into bed later than usual, enjoying every waking moment with her.
Only when Lindsay had yawned and repeatedly rubbed her eyes had Kimberly done her motherly duty and turned out the lights in Lindsay’s sleeping loft.
Now, her back propped against the couch, an old quilt tossed over her shoulders, Kimberly sat on the floor in the front of the fire. She tried to concentrate on the magazines spread open on her lap but couldn’t. Her mind was working overtime—with thoughts of Robert and Jake. Robert’s threats kept pounding in her brain, and she kept them at bay by hoping Jake could help her. At the thought of him she smiled, though the situation was far from happy.
“Mommy?” Lindsay’s voice filtered down from the loft.
Kimberly was on her feet in an instant. “What is it, honey?” she called, climbing the stairs two at a time.
Sitting up in her bed rubbing her eyes, Lindsay complained, “I had another bad dream.”
“It’s over now, sweetheart.”
“But it was scary.” Tears gathered in Lindsay’s eyes.
“I know.” Kimberly sat on the edge of Lindsay’s twin mattress and smoothed her tousled hair. Wrapping her arms around Lindsay’s shoulders, Kimberly whispered, “Just think happy thoughts like rainbows and dinosaurs and snow and puppies—”
“Can I have one?” Lindsay asked, her tears forgotten.
The great debate, Kimberly thought. “Someday.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. When you’re older.”
“Like tomorrow?”
“Like in a few years when you’re old enough to feed it, walk it and clean up after it.”
“I just want to love it,” Lindsay argued, her lower lip protruding in a tired pout. “Daddy said he’d give me a puppy.”
Kimberly’s heart froze. Every muscle in her body went rigid. “He did?”
“Mm-hmm.” Lindsay was nodding off again. “When he called me.”
“He called you? Here? Again?” Kimberly repeated, trying not to sound alarmed, though cold panic was taking hold. All of his threats echoed through her head. Would he try something as foolish as kidnapping his own daughter? Certainly not unless the custody battle went against him. Her throat was suddenly tight, the words hard to form. “Did Arlene talk to him?”
Lindsay skidded lower under the covers. “No. She was in the basement.” Turning her face into her pillow, Lindsay yawned.
“Has Daddy called before when I’m not here?”
But Lindsay didn’t answer. Breathing softly, she snuggled deeper between the sheets and drifted to sleep. Kimberly stared at the sleeping child and wanted to cry. She’d always wanted children, but even that overpowering desire to become a mother hadn’t prepared her for the depth of her feelings for this sometimes spoiled, often precocious, but always precious daughter.
After dropping a kiss on Lindsay’s tangled crown, she silently walked downstairs. So Robert had called. So what? He had every right to talk to his daughter. There was no need to panic. But the memory of her own conversation with Robert left her chilled to the bone.
She poured herself a glass of water, then set the teakettle on the stove. Gazing out the window, she wondered if she should just give up the fight, grab Lindsay and a few of her belongings and flee. And run where? California? Canada? Mexico? Her head began to throb. She pressed the cold glass to her forehead.
The kettle shrilled loudly, and Kimberly switched off the stove and reached for it just as the doorbell rang.
She glanced at the clock. It was after nine. Who would be braving the rain and wind at this time of night?
Robert!
And his entourage of bodyguards . . .
Her heart dropped like a stone, then she managed to pull herself together. Robert was in for the fight of his life. Steeling herself, she set the kettle down and marched back through the living room, ready to lambast the man.
She peeked through the arched window carved in the front door, and her knees threatened to collapse as she saw Jake standing in the protection of the porch, his breath fogging in the cold air. Dressed in faded denim jeans, a steel-gray sweater and blue ski jacket, Jake reached for the bell again, then glanced at the window, where his gaze touched hers.
A smile warm as a southern breeze slashed across his chin.
Kimberly fumbled with the lock, then threw the door open. “Thank God it’s you,” she said, clinging to the knob so she wouldn’t impulsively rush into his arms like an idiot.
He actually chuckled. “You missed me?”
“A little,” she lied. “Well, maybe more than a little.” Her throat grew thick, and she felt hot tears of relief well in the corners of her eyes.
Jake’s smile faded. “What is it?”
For a second she didn’t trust her voice. She closed the door and leaned heavily against the cool wood panels. “It’s Robert,” she admitted, clearing her throat. “I saw him today—he was ... pretty determined.”
“To get his daughter back?”
“Right.” Her throat swelled again. “He wasn’t too subtle.”
“He threatened you?” Jake demanded. His face became a hard mask.
“Warned me, I think, would be more like it. When the doorbell rang, I thought you were him. I’d even gone so far as to think he’d just bulldoze his way in here, grab Lindsay and disappear in the night, so . . .” She glanced up at him and managed a tremulous smile. “Just give me a minute to pull myself together, okay?”
“Sure.” To her surprise, he reached forward and surrounded her with his arms, drawing her close against his wet jacket. His strength and warmth seemed to permeate his clothes and flow into her. She didn’t think twice, just rested her cheek against the steadying wall of his chest. His scent enveloped her, an earthy smell that reminded her of pine forests and clean skin.
Listening to the steadying sound of his breathing, she wouldn’t acknowledge that he interested her as a man. Being attracted to him was just too complicated. And dangerous. Still, being held and comforted, feeling his breath stir her hair, caused her skin to tingle.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
She nodded against his jacket, wondering why she saw this roguish, cynical man as some kind of knight in shining armor. The fantasy made her smile. He’d die a thousand deaths if he knew.
She lifted her head and slowly stepped out of his embrace. “I, uh, thought you were out of town,” she said, embarrassed that she’d let down her reserve, that he’d caught sight of a vulnerable side of her.
“I’m back.”
“Obviously,” she said dryly. “Look, I didn’t mean to fall apart on you
—”
“You didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did.” She nodded.
He grinned again, and she felt the stupid urge to smile back at him. “Okay, you did. Now, tell me what happened.”
“Can we wait a little on the heavy stuff?” she said, still trying to calm down. “I’ll be okay, but I need a few minutes.”
“Sure.” He turned his palms up. “Whatever you want.”
For the first time, she really looked at him, noticing the water spots on his shoulders and his wet hair. “No umbrella?”
His grin twisted. “I’m an Oregonian. We don’t use those things. The rain and I are well acquainted, I just spent a couple of days wiping off my goggles up at Mt. Bachelor.”
“Oh, so you’re a skier?”
His eyes flashed devilishly. “You wouldn’t have guessed it this week.” He glanced around the room and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “When the weather report said ‘more of the same,’ I decided to pack it in. I have plenty of work, and I thought we could pick up where we left off.”
“Now?”
“No time like the present.” Bending one knee against the hearth, he rubbed his hands together, then placed his palms near the flames. Firelight caught in his hair, reflecting on the dark strands and casting golden shadows over his angular features. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Relax, I won’t bite.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes.” His eyes twinkled. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I think so.”
“Can we get started?”
She nodded, rubbing her hands together. “It’s going to be difficult, you know. Telling you my life story.”
He snorted. “You’d better get used to the idea. We’ll be spending a lot of time together.”
Somehow that was, comforting.
“I’ll have to know about you—and Robert—and anything you think is important, no matter how ‘difficult’ it is to talk about.”
“I see.”
“You want to back out?”
“No,” she said sharply. “We’ve got a deal. Remember?”
“Right.”
Despite her uneasiness, she felt the corners of her mouth lift. There was something about him that made her want to smile, and yet there was a part of him, a dark, sensual side that touched her deep inside. “So . . . would you like something warm—a cup of coffee or tea, or maybe something stronger? I think I’ve got ... eh, I don’t really know,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe vodka?”
“Anything.”
He followed her down the short, scarred wooden floor of the hallway leading to a tiny kitchen.
“Is Lindsay already in bed?” he asked as she poured hot water into mugs.
“For the second time.” She told him about Lindsay’s nightmares and sighed. “They began last summer, a couple of months before she started kindergarten. Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee—so she goes to school every day?” he asked.
“Half days. Arlene picks Lindsay up after lunch and brings her home for her nap. They spend their time here unless Arlene decides to run errands or take Lindsay to the park to feed the ducks.”
“And Lindsay likes Arlene.”
“Adores her.”
“You’re sure?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And school. Does she like it?”
“Yes—and her teacher is a dream. What is this, the third degree?” she asked as she handed him a steaming mug.
“Not yet. Just the preliminaries.” He took an experimental sip from the cup. “Believe me, it gets worse.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she murmured, motioning toward a small round table with two chairs. “Please, sit down.”
Jake twisted a cane-backed chair around and straddled it, leaning forward. “So, tell me about Arlene.”
“Why?”
“She’s Lindsay’s babysitter. That might be a sore point with Robert. He might bring up something about your work and leaving his daughter in the care of an elderly woman.”
Kimberly sipped her tea. “I wouldn’t call Arlene elderly to her face if I valued my life,” she said.
Jake grinned. “I’ll remember that. You trust her?”
Kimberly almost laughed. “I’ve known her all my life. She’s a friend of my mother’s. They grew up together in the Midwest before Mom and Dad moved to California.”
“She’s married?”
Nodding, Kimberly set her tea bag in a saucer. “Lyle’s her husband. He was a longshoreman, but he retired a couple years ago when he hurt his back.”
“So Arlene watches Lindsay for the money?”
Kimberly bristled at the implication. “The money really doesn’t matter. Arlene loves my daughter. Lindsay is the granddaughter she never had.” She set her cup on the table and forced her eyes to Jake’s. “You met her the other night—what do you think?”
“Just showing you a preview of what the courtroom will be like,” he said, his face growing sober. “If it gets that far. Believe me, it’s not going to be a picnic. Not for you. Or Lindsay.”
“I know.” She felt the same nervous jitters in her stomach she always did when she thought about the court date looming ahead. “I wish I could avoid it. I don’t like the thought of fighting over Lindsay, or hanging my dirty laundry out where everyone can see it. Robert’s name is in the paper enough.”
A dark cloud seemed to shadow Jake’s eyes. But it passed quickly. “Maybe we can avoid that,” he suggested.
“How?”
“If we can convince Robert to drop the case—”
Kimberly laughed bitterly. “Impossible. I’ve tried. When it comes to Lindsay, we don’t see eye to eye.”
“But he gave you custody once.”
“Yeah,” she said, sighing. “When he wanted the divorce so that he could marry Stella. That was before he knew she couldn’t bear children. It’s ironic,” she added sadly. “He didn’t want a child, and the fact that Lindsay was a girl only made it worse. But suddenly, now that Stella can’t conceive, he’s interested in Lindsay again.” She explained about seeing Robert at the bank and recounted the meeting to an entranced Jake. Kimberly saw the tensing of his muscles, the wariness in his eyes.
“Wonderful man,” he said finally.
“I thought so once,” she admitted, wondering how she could have been so naïve. Feeling suddenly cold, she rubbed her arms and asked, “Have you ever been married?”
He frowned into his palm and his jaw tightened. “It didn’t last long. Probably a mistake from the beginning.”
Surprised, she glanced up and saw pain flicker in his eyes. A cold spot settled in her heart. Jake obviously loved his wife very much.
“She’s gone now,” he said, clipping the words out, his voice husky. “Killed in a car accident a few years ago. It happened not long after the divorce.”
Her heart went out to him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know, but—”
“I’d rather not talk about it,” he said darkly. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he added, “Besides, I didn’t come here to discuss my personal life.”
“No, you’re here for mine.”
“Right. So, what about yours? Let’s start with Robert.”
Kimberly’s stomach twisted.
“Do you still love him?”
Her gaze flew to his. “What kind of question is that? He’s remarried and—”
“Do you still love him?”
“Of course not.”
He lifted a dark brow.
Instantly outraged, she said, “Would I be fighting him so hard if I still cared about him?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes relationships are complicated. I just thought we should start with the basics.”
“And I thought I told you I’m not sure I ever loved him.”
His gaze didn’t falter. “Okay. Now, the other side of the coin. Do you hate
him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He’s Lindsay’s father—I can’t forget that.”
Jake snorted. “A man comes by and threatens to take your child away and you can’t forget he’s the kid’s father.”
Her fists clenched impotently.
“This isn’t going to be a walk in the park, you know,” he said kindly. “It could get pretty bloody.”
“I realize that.”
“Then tell me, what kind of a man is Fisher?”
“Relentless,” she said quickly, “and single-minded. When he wants something, he goes after it.”
He tented his fingers under his chin. “Tell me about him—this relentless side of his nature.”
Her hands shook a little as she picked up her cup. She sipped her tea, found it tepid and set the cup back on the table. “For example, if he wanted your law practice, he’d find a way to get it. He’s incredibly patient, and he’d do whatever he had to do, wait however long it took to make you see that it was in your best interests to sell to him, whether you wanted to or not.”
The lines near the corner of Jake’s mouth tightened.
“So, now that he’s zeroed in on having Lindsay come live with him, he won’t back down. Diane already told me he doesn’t have a chance, and yet I don’t believe it. Robert’s like a cat—he always lands on his feet.” She bit her lower lip. “And sometimes his claws are extended.”
Jake surveyed her thoughtfully. “What was it like being married to him?”
She frowned, feeling all the old pain. “At first it was wonderful—at least I thought it was—but that all changed fairly quickly.”
“Why?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I suppose I began to bore him.”
One side of his mouth lifted, and his gaze softened. “I find it hard to think of you as boring.”
“Well, he lost interest, and then there were all those stories about him. You know, rumors tying him to everything that’s wrong in the city.”
Jake’s stare grew stern. “You don’t believe he’s part of organized crime in Portland.”
“No.”
“But you’re not sure.”
“He’s Lindsay’s father,” she said automatically.
