The Secret Father (The Calvert Cousins 1)

by Anna Adams

  “You can’t.” She might be confused, but no way was he going to try her out as a magic potion to cure his amnesia.

  “Because of Evan?” He came closer, his tone harsh, his rigid body a challenge. “Maybe Evan’s the reason we should find out how we really feel.”

  “I’m not saying no just because of Evan. Remember what you said that first day in your office? That you wouldn’t have felt comfortable with me knowing about your personal life.” Adrenaline pulsed through her body with explosive force. “Back then I didn’t know you were holding back. I loved you. I cared more about you than myself.”

  She felt almost faint after admitting how much he’d mattered. Maybe he thought she was finished. Maybe he just wanted—needed to shut her up. Either way, he caught her arms and pulled her close. She couldn’t even shake her head as he stared at her mouth.

  The moment his lips covered hers, tears burned in her eyes. He had amnesia, but she’d forgotten plenty. The firm message of need in the kindness of his kiss hadn’t changed at all. She wanted to run from him, but if she moved, she’d give in to his mouth stroking hers, begging her to open to him.

  She tried to turn her head away. He followed, starting over at the curve of her cheek, flexing his hands around her shoulders, as if he had to reassure himself he was holding her. He kissed her again, his mouth, his lips and breath teasing a path of desperate yearning across her skin.

  She slid her arms around his waist. He was harder, leaner, tougher than he’d been. His very maleness frightened her. She’d been so long alone. She pushed her hands between them, tangling her fingers in his soft shirt.

  “Olivia.” That was all it took. Her name in a whisper. Cupping her face, he angled her head and took her in a kiss that brought her up hard against him and destroyed her last clear thought.

  She opened her mouth because she remembered his taste and she’d once been addicted. She’d dreamed of this moment and wakened night after night, his child kicking in her belly while she cried at the certainty of knowing she’d never hold Zach again.

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Please,” she said, not even sure what she was pleading for.

  He seemed to know. His voice, without words, rode his breath to her mouth. He kissed her again and again, sliding his hands beneath the baggy shirt to caress her back, her shoulders. She pressed against his fingertips as he brushed the curve of her breasts.

  She ached for more, but her need was so intense his touch almost hurt. Tears sprang to her eyes, but suddenly he eased her away from him, and that hurt more.

  “I can’t.” He didn’t sound like Zach. Not before and not now. He was a stranger she’d loved, and she still wanted to be with him.

  “What?”

  “I don’t have the right.”

  She narrowed her gaze, hollow inside, unable to believe he’d reject her when he so clearly wanted her. “I was giving you the right, Zach.”

  “I can’t explain.” He rubbed his face, guilt written on every plane and angle his hand couldn’t cover.

  “Is it Helene?”

  “No, worse, it’s Salva.”

  “Your friend from the crash.” Olivia took a deep breath, almost choking. “At least you said she was your friend.”

  “She was.” He caught her hand as she backed away. “She was only a friend, but she’s dead. Maybe because of me. Maybe that’s why I screwed up with Helene. And I can’t forget I all but ruined your life.”

  “Hardly.”

  He grimaced. “I know you made your own decision. You love Evan, and he’s not a problem for you, but you faced it all by yourself, and for all I know, he’s the reason your dad is such a nut.”

  “Zach, Dad is who he is.” She should stick up for him. “And Evan adds to my life every day. I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t understand what you mean about your friend after all this time. You tried to save her.”

  “Tried and failed, but I lived. I have a life and two children. Salva didn’t get to see her daughter grow up.”

  “You married Helene. Salva didn’t keep you from her.”

  “I only married her because she was pregnant.”

  “And this is the way you want your future? You’re okay with rejecting—” What? Love? She wasn’t declaring any such feeling ever again. “You don’t intend to let any woman need you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m sorry, but that sounds like an excuse. If you don’t want me, say so. Don’t try to be kind.”

  “You know that’s not the problem.”

  The hint of ruefulness in his tone annoyed her even more. “You can’t believe you’ll be able to—”

  “Come inside. You’re freezing out here.”

  “You’re freezing in here.” She flattened her hands across his chest. “Where it counts more.”

  “You never talked in clichés before.”

  “It might be a cliché, but it’s also the truth.” And a deeper truth remained. She’d better say goodnight—goodbye—to him. She’d been lucky tonight. Better to find out now than after she’d let herself believe again. “I’m going to bed.”

  She walked around him, half expecting he’d draw her back. He let her go. She’d never inspire more than lust in Zach Calvert. Why?

  Turning back, Olivia clasped his face. One swift kiss, the goodbye he’d denied her six years ago, couldn’t hurt anyone. She kissed him with the fervent farewell of a twenty-one-year-old woman who believed he wasn’t coming back. Zach’s hands clung as she tried to pull away.

  His gaze, tortured, no doubt reflecting her own frantic need, almost propelled her back into his arms. Somehow she took a backward step, staring into his sleepy, sexy eyes. “Good night.”

  He searched her face, as if he was looking for a secret, but he wasn’t going to find the unswerving trust she’d felt for him before. She’d never again expose a foolish love that had nearly destroyed her.

  She reached for the kitchen door. In her chest beat a heart that hurt almost as much as if he’d abandoned her once more. This time, he’d made a choice.

  “I JUST THOUGHT you should know about your father, Olivia.” His mom’s voice. In his house. Too early in the morning after a sleepless night.

  Zach hauled himself up on his elbows, his head thudding at hangover strength. In the kitchen, his mom rose from the table and went to refill her coffee cup.

  “Will you bring me one of those?” he asked.

  She rounded on him, startled. “You’re awake. Morning, son.”

  “G’morning.”

  He rolled off the lumpy sleeper sofa and restored it to its couch identity. Last night came back with a cutting edge that dropped him into one of the armchairs. He should probably change clothes before he joined his mother and Olivia, whom he couldn’t see, in the kitchen. He stared at the doorway, empty of both women.

  The call of caffeine proved too strong. Olivia, miraculously clothed in her own jeans and shirt again, set a cup in front of him at the big table. She didn’t look at him. He wished she would. He picked up the mug and sipped without sitting.

  “What are you doing here, Mom?”

  “You didn’t sleep well.”

  “No. Did something else happen with Olivia’s father?”

  “Something good.” Beth pushed a plate of her homemade biscuits his way. “Honey? Blackberry jam?”

  He loved both, but either sounded foul. “Plain is fine.” He glanced at Olivia. “Are you willing to tell me?”

  “He bought all the film from the incident at the feed store.” She smiled at his mother in an obvious appeal for understanding. “I am grateful to him, Beth, but you need to realize it was a onetime deal.”

  “You think they’ll come after us again?” Zach asked.

  “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” She met his gaze fully. “I work on a magazine because I don’t have the cutthroat temperament to hunt down stories every day. People know I have Evan. They know he’s mine, but I simply ref
used to talk about him and his parentage until they stopped asking. That was easy when he was a baby. It won’t be now. They’ll try to talk to him. Or they’ll stalk you and your family. My father is honorable. Any story that appears in his media is backed up by source after source, and he’s openly disdainful of people who do the job without morals. Others have been waiting to prove he’s a hypocrite. I had a child out of wedlock so I’m an opportunity for them to write a story denigrating James Kendall and our family and our business.” She shrugged.

  “Then let me explain,” Zach said.

  “No.”

  Her vehemence startled him. She thought he’d rejected her again. She wanted nothing from him today.

  He couldn’t ask her to forget about last night in front of his mother. “It’s the best way, Olivia.” He pushed his hand through his unkempt hair. “They’ll leave us alone once they have the story.”

  A thud on his front door was his only answer. He and his mother and Olivia shared a questioning glance.

  “I’ll bet they followed me up here,” Beth said.

  “It doesn’t matter, Mom. I’ll take care of them.” His rumpled sweats and just-out-of-bed look wasn’t going to do much for Olivia. “Stay out of sight, and keep Evan and Lily in the back of the house.”

  “No,” Olivia said.

  “We can’t hide behind a door all day.” He set his cup on the table and strode across the kitchen and living room before Olivia caught him.

  “What about Evan? Do you want to see his face everywhere? Imagine what the captions underneath will say.”

  “We’ll take care of Evan, but we can’t hide from these people.”

  “I said no, Zach.”

  He wanted to pay attention, but someone had to do something. Snatching the door open, he was surprised—and relieved—to find James and his two bodyguards.

  The silver-and-blue Kendall mobile would be hard to miss. He looked for it on the drive, but an almost discreet black Range Rover sat beside his mother’s old bug.

  “You bought a car?”

  James nodded as if a Range Rover in Bardill’s Ridge wasn’t unusual. “I needed room for my daughter and grandson. It’s still a tight fit with Jock and Ian.”

  Olivia spoke from behind him. “Dad, Evan and I are going to stay with you for a few days.”

  Zach’s temper rippled over him like a heat haze. “Come on, Olivia.”

  “No, you come on.” Her gaze froze him. She raked her hair back, baring her beautiful, furious face. The face he’d kissed until he’d wanted to take her on the cold porch floor last night. He wanted her now, but lovemaking didn’t seem to be part of her current plan. “I know best about this situation, and you didn’t bother to listen to me. When you’re ready to share, not take charge, you let me know.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IAN PACKED Olivia and Evan’s things and brought them to the campground. They missed a few of Evan’s toys and a shirt he’d tossed under his bed. On the following Wednesday, Beth and Zach’s redheaded cousin, Molly, brought Evan’s forgotten belongings. Molly, as awed as everyone who saw the mobile home, demanded a tour from Evan while Beth asked Olivia to walk outside with her.

  Zach’s mother eyed the chain link fence that surrounded the huge leaf-strewn pool in the Kendalls’ temporary backyard. “They assigned you a nice space,” she said, and even managed to sound as if she wasn’t laughing.

  Grinning, Olivia jabbed her thumb at the silver-and-blue behemoth behind her. “My dad may not be the perfect fit for Bardill’s Ridge, but he’s learning. He’s shopping for groceries at the farmers’ market on the square right now.” She ground to a halt. She didn’t feel like the perfect fit either. “Anyway, I’m glad he came. He calls this thing our office on the road, and it’s easier to work from here.”

  “And easier to hide.”

  Beth said it so flatly, it didn’t sound like an accusation, just a statement. Still, Olivia bit back a mouth full of self-defense. “I haven’t kept Evan from Zach. And the rest of your family has been dropping by to see Evan.”

  “Yes, but Zach and the family don’t take the constant shadows in stride as well as Evan.”

  “Jock and Ian keep everyone else away. You’ve heard the stories that are leaking into the news. ‘Media Czar’s Grandson Discovers Father.’ It makes me sick.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “And they’re using Evan’s picture. My dad and I’ve managed to keep his face out of the news for five years.”

  “If you’d let Zach explain…”

  “I understand he may feel he’s not being a man if he doesn’t defend his son, but making as little of this mess as possible is the best thing he can do for Evan.”

  “Why don’t you ask my son about all this?” Beth looked distressed. “He won’t thank me for making trouble between the two of you.”

  “You aren’t making trouble.” Olivia reached for Beth’s hand. “I’m the one with the problem, and I’ll handle it. Is Zach in his office?” She patted her back pocket in search of her car keys. “Beth, would you mind taking Evan with you? Where are you going?”

  “Up to the baby farm. And I’d love for him to come. You might like to look around up there, too. Greta provides a retreat for pregnant women whose husbands are away, or who just want some time on their own. And more than that, she gives young girls a place, too.”

  “Young girls,” Olivia said. “You mean pregnant girls?” She’d read an article about The Mom’s Place from a Knoxville paper, but it hadn’t mentioned that. “Their parents send them?”

  “Most of them turn up at Greta’s because their parents are ashamed of what they’ve done, and they don’t have anywhere else to go. Greta uses profits from the paying customers to provide for those girls.”

  Olivia still remembered how alone she’d felt before her father had managed to reconcile himself. “I’ll make you a deal. How about an hour of looking after Evan in return for a story on the baby farm?”

  Beth showed no hesitation. “I’m in. Go talk to Zach, and don’t worry about Evan. I’ll bring him back here when we finish my class.” She glanced back. “You don’t mind if he learns how to crochet?”

  Olivia laughed. “Not at all. As long as you can convince him, too.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  Olivia didn’t doubt it. She climbed the mobile home’s metal steps. The Mom’s Place, or the baby farm, as the family called it, would make a good story for Relevance, and they might be able to scare up some funding for Greta Calvert.

  In front of the television, Molly sat cross-legged, sort of. One foot in the air punctuated a particularly good curve in the race she and Evan were running.

  “Move, Mollllyyyyy. I can’t see.”

  “Sorry. I have to use my feet when I drive on video.”

  “Huh?”

  “Forget it. I’m about to pass you, buddy.”

  “Evan,” Olivia said, “are you listening to me?” She hated those games, maybe partly because she was terrible at them.

  “I hear ya, Mom.”

  “Grandma Beth is going to take you with her while I go out for a while.”

  “Okay.”

  Not “where are you going?” or “why can’t I go with you?” Just “Okay.” Because he’d be with his Grandma Beth. She’d longed for a big, loving family like the Calverts, and she was glad Evan would always be part of them. But it still felt odd to turn him over to other people.

  “Evan, wear your sweater.”

  “Mom, you’re going to make me lose. I can’t hear you and—no, Molly!”

  “Sorry.” Olivia grabbed her keys from the counter and tossed an apology for no real reason at Beth, who patted her arm.

  Olivia dropped down the mobile home’s steps, laying her hand over the warm spot where Beth had touched her and feeling as if she’d entered the Calvert clan on Evan’s coattails.

  ZACH PARKED his squad car behind the courthouse where none of the citizenry would smell him stinking of the still he’d broken up. He left
his ax in the storeroom, trying to hide his bullet-torn sleeve from the neighbors who passed him.

  He reached his office door without attracting on an audience, but the second he stepped inside, Olivia rose from the chair in front of his desk.

  Her eyes rounded, her skin went pale and a nerve jumped beside her mouth.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  He glanced at his sleeve. The bullet had come closer than he’d thought. “It can’t be too bad. It took a long time before it even started to bleed.”

  She grabbed the chair, as if she needed help standing. His turn to drop his jaw.

  “You’re afraid,” he said, “for me.” He couldn’t help marveling.

  “Someone shot you?”

  “Because I broke up her still.” He cracked a smile. “She said she was looking to make a little extra Christmas money.”

  “It’s not funny.” She was beside him, her hands shaking as she pulled back his sleeve. The bullet had traced a neat diagonal line just above his elbow.

  “She wasn’t a good shot.”

  “Shut up, Zach. Where’s your first-aid kit?”

  He didn’t give a damn where it was. “I like to hear you say my name.” He was serious. He forgot how well she knew him until she loaded his name with emotion he neither deserved nor understood.

  “The first-aid kit?” She tried to sound detached, but a thickened note in her voice made him lean down.

  She turned her head just slightly, but when he caught her chin, she didn’t struggle. She kissed him back, a hint of can’t-help-it on her lips. Then she moved out of reach.

  “The first-aid kit.” She sounded firm. “I’ll clean your wound while we talk.”

  “It’s more scratch than wound, but I’m glad it bothers you.” He stared at her, hungry for more. Could she help him find the memories he’d lost—memories of them together? He crossed to the gun cabinet and locked his weapons away. Then he opened his bottom desk drawer and retrieved the first-aid kit.