“Kate, you look as though you’re going to keel over. Why don’t you cancel your appointments for this week at least?”
“I have to work. I need the money.” She wrenched away from his touch, her rejection leaving Lane bereft. Determination replaced the fragility in her face. “How else am I going to get Jamie back?” She sniffed then scrubbed the back of her hand over her damp cheeks.
Silently, he produced a hanky. Inside impatience warred with irritation. Why wouldn’t she accept his help? “I’ve told you I can give you the money.”
“For a man who worried so much about blackmail, you’ve shifted camps. Don’t you understand? You’re the last person I can accept money from. I’ll get the money somehow, despite what the loan officer at the bank said.” Her chin jutted out, as if daring him to push the argument. “I’ve been ringing finance companies. I will raise the ransom money.”
The woman remained implacably stubborn and determined. Frustration made him want to shake her hard, but he also wanted to protect her and she wouldn’t let him. Sighing inwardly, he decided to back off a little. At last resort, he could always organize the money with the police.
“What time does your next appointment arrive? Do we have time to start on the list of Nicole’s friends?” Speaking of Nicole made him think of Jamie. His gut twisted. The poor kid must be terrified. He hoped they heard from the kidnapper soon.
“Come into the kitchen. The list is in there.” She plucked a piece of paper from the scarred wooden table where they’d sat to eat dinner the night he’d met Jamie. “Five names on the list. Two men. Three women. That’s all I can remember. I know Gerald French is working overseas in London, but the other four still live locally.”
Lane accepted the list. “I’ll start ringing them.”
Kate nodded then froze at the shrill ring of the phone. Her face blanched and faint tremors shook her body.
“I’ll answer it,” he said.
“No. I mean, it’s okay. I’ll get it.” She moved toward the phone, staring at it as though it were a coiled snake waiting to bite. Slowly she reached for the receiver. “He-hell-o,” she stammered. She listened for a moment before shaking her head to indicate it wasn’t the kidnapper. “Yes, I do facials and manicures as well as massage. All three? Today?” Kate’s index finger traced down the page in her appointment book. A frown of concentration lined her forehead. “I can fit in a facial and manicure this afternoon but not the massage. Would you like a massage next week?” Kate held the phone under her chin and jotted the appointment details in her book. “Thank you, Mrs. Fawkner. I’ll see you at four-thirty today.”
Kate hung up and slumped against the nearby wall. “I’m beginning to hate that phone,” she said. “I’m scared to answer the wretched thing and terrified I’ll miss a call. Crazy, huh?”
“No, not crazy. Human. When’s your next appointment?”
Kate checked the kitchen wall clock. “A massage in an hour.”
“Have you eaten today?” He propelled her toward a chair and exerted enough pressure on her shoulders to make her sit.
“I couldn’t face food this morning, not when Jamie might be going hungry.”
“You have to eat, Kate. Starving yourself won’t help Jamie. I’ll make a cup of tea and some sandwiches while you check with Nicole’s friends.”
Lane braced for an argument, but she surprised him. “Thanks. A cup of tea sounds lovely.”
Relief flooded him as he investigated the contents of Kate’s fridge. She wasn’t the only one who needed to keep busy. In a short time, he assembled a pile of ham-salad sandwiches and brewed a pot of tea.
As she flicked through the telephone book, Kate couldn’t help but be impressed with Lane’s domestic skills. Steve had called cooking woman’s work and had refused to stir from his deluxe La-Z-Boy in front of the telly to make so much as a cup of tea.
She reached for a sandwich and took a bite. A bowl of sand would have tasted better but she forced down each bite. A sip of tea did nothing to disperse the parched sensation in her throat. Food. Oh no! “I’ve forgotten to feed Jamie’s rat.” Guilt shaded her voice—for forgetting to feed Ratty and for having food at all.
“If you promise to eat another sandwich, I’ll feed Ratty for you.”
“Deal,” Kate said, picking up another sandwich. “I think there are scraps in the fridge and dry pellets in the pantry.” After eyeing her second sandwich doubtfully, she took a large bite despite the protesting lump in her stomach. She looked up to see Lane watching. “Mmmm. Tastes good.”
Once Jamie returned back safely, they wouldn’t even be able to afford ham for sandwiches. The thought made her put down the sandwich.
Lane nodded and opened the fridge to forage through the contents again. “Which room is Jamie’s?”
“Up the stairs, second on the right.”
He jogged up the stairs and pushed the door to Jamie’s bedroom open. Curiosity stirred about the boy since he’d missed so many years, so many milestones. What was Jamie interested in? Was he a tidy child or messy or somewhere in between? Lane clutched the bowl of rat food as he stepped inside.
A faded navy quilt covered the tidily made bed. Phantom comics were stacked on the floor to one side of the bed. A faint smile played on his lips. He remembered reading the adventures of the Ghost Who Walked. He scrutinized the rugby posters adorning the walls. He’d known Jamie played rugby but hadn’t realized the scope of his interest in the sport. The posters filled one entire wall and told the story. Jamie appeared rugby-mad, much as Lane and his brothers were at the same age. The fever still lived in Lane.
When he turned, his own smiling face confronted him—an older poster from the days when his hair was much longer. Mud covered both his face and jersey. He remembered the day well since he’d scored two tries. A sense of elation rushed through him, finding an outlet in a grin. Jamie must like him or the boy wouldn’t have tacked the poster on his wall. Lane moved closer. His grin faded when he noticed the series of small holes akin to those a dart would make. Jamie used his picture as a dartboard. Discouragement hit like a kick in the gut. He’d thought they were getting on all right, that Jamie liked him a little at least. Another theory dies, he thought in wry disappointment.
Ratty’s muffled squeak drew his attention. The rat peered from a pile of shredded paper, his whiskers twitching. The paper rustled.
“Dinner time, Ratty,” Lane said. He opened the cage and placed the small dish of pellets and scraps inside. The rat crept closer, his eyes bright and healthy when he seized a pellet.
Lane ambled back to the kitchen. “I thought I told you to eat.”
“I’ve had two sandwiches. I stopped to ring Gerald French’s parents. He is still overseas. Unfortunately, he’s traveling Europe now and is out of contact. Would you believe he dropped his cell phone into a canal in Venice? No email address either. Marie Robert was out so I’ve left a message for her.”
“It’s almost time for your appointment. I’ll finish the phone calls. I don’t suppose you have any other ideas?”
Kate shrugged. “You could try the photo albums. They’re in the bookcase in the den. There are photos of Nicole and some of her friends. You might recognize someone.” With that, she hurried from the room, heading for her work area and leaving him alone in the kitchen.
The house became somber and silent without Kate’s presence. Lane prowled from room to room, unable to settle. He flicked through the photo albums but apart from Kate and Jamie, not one familiar face peered back. He picked up a seashell from the mantle and tossed it from hand to hand. Jamie hated him. He couldn’t get the dart holes out of his mind. His son really hated him.
It was six when Lane heard Kate ushering out her last client. He lowered the heat on the element, took the lid off the pot and stirred the meat and vegetable stew. Since Kate probably wouldn’t bother eating unless he made her a meal, he’d gone ahead and made dinner for both of them. He glanced up when she entered the kitchen.
; “Any phone calls?” Her body screamed of tension, but with no news, nothing he could tell her would set her mind to rest.
Lane shook his head. “No, not apart from your friend Danielle. I haven’t had much luck with Nicole’s friends yet. They were all at work.”
Kate slumped into a chair. “Did Danielle say if she wanted me to ring?”
“She’s dropping round to visit. That sounds like her now. She wanted to see how you were.”
“Tired,” Kate said, yawning.
Lane placed a cup of tea in front of her. “Drink this. I’ll let Danielle in.”
Danielle breezed in, an anxious look on her face. Lane followed.
“Any news? Lane told me about the call from the kidnapper.”
Kate shook her head. “No, nothing.”
“If I could get my hands on the kidnapper,” Danielle said in a fierce tone. She hugged Kate tightly, almost squeezing the breath from her. “I’d tear him limb from limb. How dare he steal your child? I just wish we could do something to help. Adam and I feel so helpless. And the boys are taking this badly. They’re so quiet.”
“Are the boys at home?” Kate asked.
“I left them with Adam. They’re packing their clothes for our school holiday trip to Taupo. Heaven knows what sort of mess I’ll find when I arrive home, but I wanted to keep them busy. Jamie’s disappearance has given them a fright. I hardly know they’re there. It’s not natural.” She grimaced. “I’d prefer noisy mischief.”
“Yeah, me too,” Kate whispered. The tear that ran down her cheek made Lane’s gut jump uneasily.
Lane coughed to clear the lump in his throat. “Would you like dinner? Kate and I were about to eat.”
“Thanks, but I need to get home. Adam’s cooking.” She grinned. “I just love men who can cook. So handy.” Danielle reached down to hug Kate again. “Take care. Remember to ring us. Nice to meet you, Lane.”
Lane dished out their meal while Kate walked Danielle out to the car. When she returned, they ate in silence, both deep in thought.
“I’m so tired.” Kate dropped her knife and fork down on her plate and pushed her half-eaten meal away. “But I just know the minute I try to sleep I’ll be wide awake. I can’t stop thinking about Jamie. Lane, what if the kidnapper hurts him?”
“He won’t. Jamie will be fine.” Lane made his words sound positive, but he knew what Kate meant. They were so damned helpless.
“But what if they cut off his finger or—”
“Kate, stop. This isn’t helping. We have to believe he’s going to be all right. Would you like me to stay the night?” he asked, trying desperately to change the subject. Kate mustn’t think that way or she’d never get through this terrible ordeal.
She inhaled deeply, visibly striving for calm. “I’ll be okay. You should go since there are still reporters lurking outside. I have your number. I’ll ring the minute I hear anything.”
“Let me help with the dishes before I go.”
“I’ll do them. I need to keep busy.”
Lane finally acquiesced. Kate needed space. “I’ll ring early before training.” He lifted a hand in farewell, intending to leave, but the faint trembling of her bottom lip undid him. Lane gathered her in his arms and held her tight. The scent of oranges and something faintly exotic washed over him. Her soft feminine body fit neatly against his, and the need to kiss her was so overwhelming that he trembled.
A heartbeat later, he forced himself to move away. She needed reassurance not blind lust. He leaned toward her, intending to brush a quick kiss across her temple, but she looked up. His gaze fastened on her full bottom lip then her reddened eyes, and he was lost. The desire to touch and to kiss her lips thrummed through his body. He bent his head slowly, giving her time to avoid his kiss if she wanted.
Kate didn’t move.
The first taste of her lips sent the blood roaring straight to his groin. Lane groaned. Keep it simple. His mouth firmed, part of him waiting for a protest that never came. Instead, her exotic scent wound through his senses, her full breasts flattened against his chest and her hands crept behind his neck in surrender. She was his. Victory sang through his veins, but he hesitated knowing of her vulnerability, hell, neither of them were themselves at the moment. Once Jamie was safe—maybe then.
Lane drew away, grazing his hand over one soft cheek in farewell. “Try to sleep, sweetheart. Ring if you need me.”
* * * * *
The persistent ringing of the phone pulled Kate from a deep sleep. She stumbled into the kitchen from the den to answer the phone. Jamie. Her heart stuttered like a car driving over speed bumps. Was this the kidnapper?
Her hand shook when she snatched up the receiver. She misjudged and the white hand piece hit the ground with a loud crash. Fear chased chagrin at her clumsiness. Was the person still there? Kate stooped to grab the phone up. “Hello?”
“Kate, it’s Danielle. What happened?”
“I dropped the phone.”
“Never mind that. Kate, Jamie’s here.”
“What?” Kate straightened abruptly. Her heart fluttered, her stomach cramped.
“I said Jamie’s here,” Danielle repeated. “Safe and unharmed.”
“Safe? But I don’t understand,” Kate said. “Never mind. I’m coming over. I’ll be there in ten minutes tops. Don’t let him leave.” Kate dropped the phone. Jamie was safe. Joy washed over her. She dragged a hand through her hair and straightened the clothes she’d fallen asleep in. Where were her keys? Oh, she needed to contact Lane. She grabbed the card off the fridge and rang Lane while searching for her car keys.
The minute he picked up, she started to speak rapidly. “It’s Kate. I don’t know how, but Jamie is at Danielle’s. She just rang. He’s safe! The kidnapper doesn’t have him any longer.” Happiness bubbled inside and she couldn’t stand still. “He’s safe, Lane.”
Lane woke a lot quicker than her. “I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
Lane’s car screeched to a halt in her driveway soon after. Kate paused to lock the door and hurried down the steps. Happy tears poured down her face as she clambered into the passenger seat.
“Oh Lane,” she snuffled. “I don’t understand how he got to Danielle’s, but I’m so relieved he’s safe.”
“I know,” he said. “Put your seat belt on. It’s not far to Danielle’s, is it?”
“Remuera.” She rattled off the address.
When they arrived, Kate barely waited for Lane to stop. She leapt from the car and rushed through the normally locked gate to the front door of the Wrights’ elegant Remuera bungalow. Pounding on the door, she called, “Danielle! It’s me. Let me in.”
The door opened without warning and Kate flew inside, nearly knocking over Adam.
“I guess you’ve heard the news then,” he said with a grin.
Chapter Seven
With long, ground-eating strides Lane hurried through the security gate and up the footpath to catch Kate. “Where is he?” he heard her demand in a desperate, don’t-get-between-me-and-my-child tone.
“In the kitchen—” Kate brushed past Adam, interrupting his speech. He called out to her rapidly retreating form, “Having breakfast with Dani and the boys.” He turned back to greet Lane, his brows lifting in surprise and maybe a hint of approval. “Lane, I didn’t realize you were coming with Kate.”
“Kate rang me when she heard.” Lane shook Adam’s hand and schooled himself to patience, even though he ached to see Jamie too. “Is Jamie really okay? How did he manage to escape from the kidnapper?”
“He didn’t.” Adam paused an actor’s beat, and Lane nearly gave in to the impulse to shake an answer from him. “There never was a kidnapper.”
Lane felt his mouth fall open. He closed it firmly and tried to comprehend. “But where’s Jamie been?”
“Jamie hid in the twins’ tree house.” Adam’s mouth lost its habitual easygoing grin, his expression holding both frustration and a touch of anger. “My sons have kept him supplie
d with food the whole time.”
“Bloody hell.” The clipped words contained every emotion tangling inside Lane scrambling for expression.
“Yeah.” Adam nodded in sympathy. “You heard right. He’s been here the entire time.”
“But why? Kate’s been worried sick. We all have. What about the ransom demand?”
Adam shrugged. “From what I can piece together from the twins’ garbled story, Jamie thought if you were his real father you’d take him away from Kate. He thought you’d force him to live with you.”
“But that’s ridiculous. Why would he think that? We’ve never discussed the matter.” A vein kicked to life at Lane’s temple while frustration and irritation rode him hard. His fists tingled with the need to lash out after all they’d been through the last two days. “Kate’s done a wonderful job raising Jamie. I can’t understand why he’d think I’d take him away from her.”
Adam grimaced. “Here’s where the story gets interesting. Jamie overheard a conversation between two reporters. I believe they were discussing your probable reactions when Dani dropped Jamie off after rugby practice. They decided you’d sue for custody since you’re his father.”
“Hell.” Lane wiped his hand over his face, unable to look Adam in the eye. Pain, fierce and heart-wrenching, speared him. Another indication of how much Jamie hated him. He sucked in a deep breath and wondered if he should just leave before he made things worse. “As I said, Kate and I have never discussed the matter. We’re not even sure if I’m Jamie’s father because we’re still waiting on the birth certificate.” A DNA test would solve everything but he hated to push Kate any further.
“I’m sorry,” Adam murmured. “All I know is Jamie’s one terrified kid.”
“Hell, it’s reminiscent of a war zone with another bomb strike each day.” After dragging a hand through his hair, he said, “Why didn’t the boys say something when the police questioned them?”
Adam stepped away from the doorway and made a sweeping gesture, indicating Lane should enter. “Sean and Tony were quick to inform us they didn’t lie to the police. They didn’t know Jamie’s location until the next morning.”
Playing to Win Page 8
