“It takes a village to raise a kid.”
He glanced around. “Pretty sedate village.”
Irritation skittered as a need to defend the little development rose, but he was right. “It’s also safe, secure, and comes with a backup babysitter who loves Dylan almost as much as I do.”
“Car! Car! C-A-R!” Dylan had returned to his inspection, bored by the adults talking.
“I told you he’s kind of obsessed with spelling.” Liza tried to shift her attention to the little boy, but it was hard to stop looking at Nate. He looked different today, somehow. Calmer and more in control—but then, he’d ambushed her this time instead of the other way around.
“That’s cute,” he said, stepping closer to the car.
“Dwive!” Dylan insisted.
So Dylan had heard Nate suggest that. “Why would you plant that idea in his head?” she asked.
“Because it’s what I’d want to do.”
Dylan kept banging on the window and jumping up and down, until Nate opened the door. Little legs and arms scrambled right in, just as Mom came out of the front door.
“Liza?”
“Brace yourself,” she whispered to Nate. “My mother is going to gush over you.”
“Does she know about...Carrie and me?”
The question threw her a little. She hadn’t expected him to care about things like that, or worry about how this affected her life in any way. A little knot of appreciation tightened in her chest.
“Nothing. You’re going to be a total surprise. And I have to warn you, my mother has two weaknesses—she can’t keep a secret, and she’s a serial social climber. She’ll tell everyone at the country club, on Facebook, and possibly stop by the local news stations to tell them that you were here. So, if she knows why…” She shook her head. “I’m not responsible for the ensuing scandal.”
He put a light hand on her shoulder. “I got this.” Instantly, a smile broke across his face as he turned to her mother. “Mrs. Lemanski?”
He’s got this? He got her name wrong, for one thing. She hadn’t been Mrs. Lemanski for…three husbands.
But the wrong name didn’t make Mom stumble on her Manolos. The face she was staring at did. “Are you…” She put her hand on her chest, red nails gleaming. “Oh my God, are you…”
“Nathaniel Ivory.”
Color rose from her heavy gold chain necklace right up to her perfectly styled frosted hair, her eyes popping. “As I live and breathe.” She tapped her chest as though she couldn’t do either one at the moment. “What on earth…oh, you are even better looking in real life! Gorgeous! Isn’t he, Liza?”
“Stunning,” she agreed dryly, getting a quick look from Nate.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand, and Mom practically lunged at it with both of hers, pumping mightily.
“Don’t tell me you’re moving into Blue Landing!”
Liza snorted. That’d be the day. He probably had servants’ quarters nicer than this.
“I’m just here to see your daughter,” he said. “I guess she didn’t tell you we met at the press conference in Barefoot Bay yesterday.”
“Oh, I read about that baseball team and…” Her mother finally took her eyes off Nate long enough to finally focus on Liza. “I thought you were at work. What were you doing there?”
Tracking down Dylan’s biological father. “Uh, I—”
“Job hunting,” Nate supplied. “And I’m here to deliver the good news. You’re hired.”
She just stared at him, utterly speechless.
“For what?” her mother asked.
“Yeah, for what?” Liza repeated.
He looked at her like she knew exactly what for. “My administrative assistant. We were so impressed with how you helped Frankie Cardinale navigate all that county red tape, we decided unanimously to offer you a job.”
She tried—she really did—to say something, but not a word would come out. I got this meant offering her a job? “Are you out of your mind?” she asked under her breath.
But her mother heard. “Are you?” she demanded of Liza. “This is the best news in…well, forever! You say every day how miserable you are at the County Clerk’s office and, Liza…” Her eyes darted to Nate, stealing a glance at his body and lingering over…all of it. “I mean, Liza. Why would you not accept?”
“Because…” It was insanity. Working for him? Was this his way of staying around Dylan? “I don’t know the pay or benefits or—”
“Name your price,” Nate said. “We’ll triple your current salary, cover health care and—”
Dylan honked the horn lightly, making Nate smile.
“And there’s a children’s program at the resort where I’m setting up the office until we get further along on the site. Dylan can be in it at our expense.”
“Liza!” Her mom practically squealed. “It’s an answer to your prayers!”
“I wasn’t praying for another job.” Except that she kind of was. What she wasn’t praying for was any reason to be near Nate Ivory. In fact, the opposite was far, far preferable.
“What do you say?” he asked.
Before she answered, Dylan laid on the horn with all he had, the deafening blare echoing over the quiet neighborhood.
Liza leaped at the excuse, rushing to the driver’s door to stop the noise. “Dylan!” In the seat, his eyes were wild as he pressed the steering wheel with all his might.
“Stop!” she cried, lifting his hand for blessed silence. “Sorry, Nate.” She tried to extricate Dylan from the seat, but his little hands clamped on the steering wheel, and he started kicking wildly, his sneakers slamming into the bottom of the dashboard, leaving tiny black scuffs on the cream-colored leather. “Dylan, stop that!”
“I want to dwive!” Smack, smack, scuff, scuff.
“Dylan, please.”
“Dwiiiiiive!” He wailed, his voice rising exponentially from upset to temper tantrum. Full-blown meltdown was about fifteen seconds away. Actually, it might have already arrived.
She bit her lip, not sure whether to laugh or reprimand. Welcome to fatherhood, Nate Ivory. How would this sound in Beverly Hills?
Nate was next to her before she realized what was happening, large, strong hands reaching into the car to easily calm the kicking. “Take it easy, bud.”
Dylan kicked harder.
“You can drive it.”
And then he stopped. Liza whipped around to look at him, her breath taken away by how close he was, their shoulders touching. “Don’t encourage him. He’ll just be more disappointed. He’s only four, Nate.”
“I know, and such a big guy.” He gave Dylan’s legs a squeeze. “When’s your birthday, bud?”
“Januawy twenty-fuhst!” He started kicking again, like it was his birthday all over again.
Nate seemed to pale for a split second—no doubt, the car had never been treated like this—but then he took control of the wild legs again, a catch in his voice. “Not if you kick.”
Dylan stopped instantly. Because kids were traitors like that.
“And only if Aunt Liza says yes,” Nate added.
“Aunt Liza, pleeeeease!”
“I don’t...no. You can’t take him in this car.”
“I want to dwive!” Dylan screamed again.
Nate covered the boy’s legs again. “In a minute—”
“No.” Liza reached in and firmly took hold of Dylan, shouldering Nate out of the way. “Just no.” He wasn’t going to blow in here and do this. “You can’t give a child everything he wants, and you can’t make promises you can’t keep.” With a tight grip, she got Dylan out of the seat. “You can’t let him drive.” Her voice rose as she wrestled with a writhing, squirming, unhappy forty-two pounds of wild child. “And you can’t...” Take him away from me. Which was really at the bottom of the low-grade panic rising in her chest.
Dylan kicked her thigh so hard she almost buckled.
“Liza.” The reprimand and surprise in
her mother’s voice were loud and clear. Instantly, she was there, trying to wrest Dylan from her arms. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Me? What about—”
“I want to dwiiiiiive!”
Sweat prickled under her arms, and all Liza’s muscles bunched as she tried to still Dylan, looking over his shoulder to meet Nate’s amused gaze. “You think this is funny?” she asked him.
“I think you’re overreacting. Put him down, and let’s all take a ride.”
“There are two seats, Nate.”
“Go, go.” Her mother practically pushed her from behind. “I’ll stay here, and you three go for a little zip around the neighborhood. You can talk about your new job. What are the hours?” she asked.
Oh, Lord.
“She can set her own.” He slipped behind the wheel, touching something that made the seat shift way back, at least ten inches from the steering wheel. He reached out for Dylan. “Let’s take a drive, tiger.”
Dylan practically flew out of Liza’s arms. “I dwive! I dwive!”
“Yep, you can drive.” With an easy movement, Nate took Dylan from her arms and slid him behind the wheel. “You coming, Liza?”
“Aunt Liza!” Dylan cried, kicking again as excitement overtook his whole body. “Let’s go!”
“You heard the boy, let’s go.” Nate had the nerve to grin at her as he pulled the seat belt across Dylan’s little body, nestling the child into place on his lap.
On a sigh, she started around the back of the car, her mom instantly on her heels. “Liza! This is a miracle, isn’t it?”
Not exactly.
“This job sounds wonderful.” She squeezed Liza’s hands. “And do you know he’s one of the most eligible billionaires in the country? Billionaires with a b, Liza.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Mom. This isn’t about...us.”
“Health benefits! Child care! Set your own hours!” Mom’s voice rose with every empty promise. Because, really, what else could they be? “And look at him! You wouldn’t be the first boss-and-secretary romance.”
She looked to the sky, a full-headed eye roll necessary to calm her mother on a marriage roll.
“Let’s go,” Nate called. “I can’t hold him still much longer.”
“And he’s so good with kids!” Mom slapped her hands on her cheeks in sheer wonder.
How good would he seem in a custody battle?
The words had a chilling effect on her heart, making her step toward the car to protect what was hers. Dylan was hers.
She couldn’t forget that.
Except…he was also Nate’s.
Chapter Five
As soon as the car was moving, Dylan relaxed into Nate, his tiny hands gripping the leather steering wheel, his little body finally still.
His guardian, on the other hand, was anything but relaxed. He threw her a reassuring look, but she had that lip trapped between her teeth again, her arms wrapped around herself as tight as the seat belt.
“There we go, now, we’re going to make a right.” Of course, Nate controlled the car completely, still holding the wheel with his own two hands and keeping them at a nice ten miles an hour on completely empty streets. “You got it, kid.”
He felt Liza’s stern look and met it with another smile. “S’okay, Aunt Liza,” he said softly. “We got this.”
“Like you had it back there at my house?” she asked under her breath. “With some bogus job offer?”
“We got this!” Dylan repeated in his high-pitched voice. A voice that reached into Nate’s heart and twisted things around a little.
“Not bogus at all,” he replied. “The offer is legit.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you’re exactly what we need and…” Dylan squirmed and giggled and stole a glance of pure joy over his shoulder. Because maybe he wanted to be near this kid? “It makes sense.”
No, it didn’t actually make sense, but he couldn’t deny the sensation that had rocked him at the sight of Dylan Cassidy.
God uses the same flawless mold for every piece of Ivory glass!
He could hear the Colonel’s proud voice, his announcement made at each birth and baptism in the Ivory family, celebrating the growth of the name built on the glass industry.
“It’s just crazy,” Liza said.
Yes, it was. But…it was true. And Dylan looked like he’d walked right out of that mold.
“Whoa, here comes a truck.” Nate inched the wheel to the right and hugged the curb while a pickup rolled by.
“T-R-U-C-K! Truck.”
“And what a great speller!” Nate gave the boy’s shiny hair a ruffle, remembering his own hair being that honey color when he was small.
“Many words,” Liza agreed. “But he shouldn’t win when he has a temper tantrum.”
“Does he have them often?”
She blew out a breath. “All the time. Daily. Hourly. Way more than you want to deal with, trust me.”
He wanted to laugh, but he got her message. She didn’t want him to like this child.
“He’ll kick the heck out of your car,” she added. “And he never sleeps through the night. Plus, he gets a lot of colds and...” Her gaze shifted to Dylan’s face, and her eyes deepened in color, more blue with concern. “And he’s...” She nibbled her lip. “He’s a good kid,” she finished.
“I’m sure, but—let’s wait here for the mailman to pass, bud.”
“M-A-I-L! Mail!” Dylan shimmied on Nate’s lap, so delighted with himself. “Aunt Liza, I can dwive!”
The childish pronunciation and babyish enthusiasm were so damn sweet, Nate couldn’t help but smile. But Liza’s misery was apparent with every passing minute. “Just one more street, then we go back to your...” He had no idea what this child called Liza’s mother.
“Just Paulette,” she supplied. “And be prepared for half of the Gulf Shore Country Club to be waiting on the front lawn with cameras when we get back.”
And how long until one of those amateur paparazzi calls the professionals in and someone takes a look at the kid and Nate only to put two and two together and come up with a new Ivory scandal?
One look at Liza, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. “I should probably lie low,” he said.
“Ya think?”
“S-T-O-P! Stop!”
“Yep,” Nate agreed, tapping the brakes at the intersection and waiting for a second before they continued on. He should probably stop, too. Stop soaking up this child and already imagining...a relationship.
He put a hand on the tiny shoulder in front of him, a dark, hollow sensation in his gut, a lone question burning since this news first broke. Was it possible he really had a son?
He pulled back into the driveway and turned off the car, relieved not to see a bevy of local socialites waiting for him. “Here you go, Dylan,” he said, unlatching the seat belt and opening the door.
“Pauwette!” Dylan hollered, then ran toward the house, leaving them alone in the car.
After watching the boy disappear and leave behind a singularly confusing hole in Nate’s heart, he had to pose the question that had been haunting him.
“Why wouldn’t she find me and tell me?” he asked softly, knowing his voice was rich with pain and really not caring. The realization hurt.
“She did.”
“She did not,” he fired back. “I swear on anything and everything that journal she wrote is a lie. I never saw her again, and she...” A low anger seethed and bubbled in his veins. “What kind of person decides she has a right to keep that secret?”
He expected a defense of her dearly departed friend, but Liza lifted her shoulders and shook her head. “A person who wants to keep her child. She was afraid you and your family would want him.”
“That’s what she said in the notebook, which is riddled with lies.”
“No, she told me that from the beginning,” Liza said. “I always thought the father should have signed something, but she wouldn’t do that.
She was convinced you’d take the baby or your family would.”
And she’d be right. Mimsy and the Colonel would pay whoever needed to be paid and sign whatever needed to be signed and weather whatever shitstorm the media threw at them, because Ivorys stuck together, no matter what.
“And would that have been a legitimate fear?” Liza asked when he didn’t answer.
Nate looked at her for a long time, debating exactly what to say. In the end, he chose a simple course of action—his other reason for coming here today.
“I want to find out more about her,” he said.
“I can tell you what you need to know.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think that girl I met and the one you knew were the same.”
“What?”
“I mean, they might be the same person, but she was obviously a chameleon or split personality or something.”
“Maybe she was,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t change this mess of a situation.”
“Liza, I didn’t go looking for this.”
She closed her eyes and nodded. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Oh, yes, you should have,” he corrected. “A man has a right to know if he’s had a child, and your friend was the one who made a huge mistake, not you.”
“I agree,” she said. “Except, she always said she’d told the father of her baby that she was pregnant and he told her to get lost.”
“That conversation never happened with me,” he said, a little tired of making this assertion. “Maybe Dylan’s not mine.”
“But her journal! She uses your name, describes your meeting exactly as you said it happened.”
“Liza, she wouldn’t be the first woman to fantasize about…” He realized how arrogant the statement sounded, and let his voice trail off. “I have some, I don’t know what you’d call them, admirers? Fans? Desperate women who like my last name and want it.”
She snorted softly. “Trust me, Carrie wasn’t that woman.”
“Like I said, I need to find out just who and what she was,” he said.
“I know who she was, Nate. She lived with me for three and a half years. We were close friends, we talked about everything, we raised her child together, we…what?” She’d finally seen his look.
Scandal on the Sand Page 5
