If I Loved You

by Kress, Alyssa

  Zane knew how she would have finished the sentence. She wasn't going to have to share Tristan, or maybe even give him up. She'd bonded with the kid. Over the past ten minutes, Zane had seen the final transformation of Pattie into a mother. It would've torn her apart to lose her child.

  Zane's chest felt swollen and tight. Pattie had the same passion for parenthood he did. He wanted to take her in his arms so badly, his muscles ached.

  Meanwhile, Pattie lowered the result from the testing laboratory. Her relieved smile faded. "Nick isn't Tristan's father," she repeated. Anger filtered into her voice, quickly replacing her giddiness. "That means...Nick was right when he kept denying it."

  Pattie's gaze flicked over to Zane. "Did Savannah know? Did she know she lying to me about Nick? Oh, God. She must have known. But she lied because...she knew that would nail the coffin shut on our relationship. If Nick had only cheated, we might have worked things out. But if he'd made a child, a lasting reminder, that would be it." A noise between a laugh and a sob escaped her. "She wanted to make sure she ruined it. Didn't she?"

  Zane had a feeling Pattie already knew the answer. The look in her eyes, so vulnerable, nearly killed him. Somewhere, deep down, she must have hoped her sister hadn't hated her this thoroughly. "Pattie," he said, low. He reached out an arm.

  Ignoring his arm, she drew in a breath. "All right. Forget it. Not going to think about that."

  No? Zane bit down on his lip. From what he'd seen of Pattie's relationship with her sister, maybe it was time she did think about it, clear the air. But it wasn't his place to say so.

  "Telling me Nick was Tristan's father was just another lie in a long string of them," Pattie sighed. But as she started to turn away, she stopped abruptly. "Zane," she said. Her tone was low and urgent.

  He straightened. Did she need him, after all?

  "Zane." She spun to face him. On her face was a look of horror. "Nick isn't Tristan's father."

  "No-o-o," he slowly agreed.

  Pattie waved her hand back and forth. "Nick isn't Tristan's father. That means...we don't know who is."

  Zane stared at her. She was right. They didn't know the identity of Tristan's father. The idea instinctively chilled him. Then a thought popped into his head, an idea that chilled him even more.

  "Ted Cranston," Pattie whispered, her eyes going wide.

  Though he'd come to the same conclusion, Zane felt the need to argue. "That's just a guess."

  "But a darn good guess." The whites of Pattie's eyes showed around her irises. "It all makes sense now. We always thought that was a lot of blackmail for Cranston to pay, a house in the Palisades. Now we know why. It wasn't just an affair he was hiding, it was a child."

  Zane sucked in his lips. She was right. It made a helluva lot of sense. It was also utterly unpalatable. If Cranston had fathered an illegitimate child on Savannah, it gave him even more motive to have murdered her, particularly if she were the only other person to know. Panicked, Zane searched for another explanation. He couldn't come up with anything better than, "Not necessarily."

  "Please." Pattie shot him a withering look.

  "All right. "Zane lifted his hands. "The theory fits the facts."

  "Damn straight it does."

  "But— But—" Zane had no idea how to soften either the theory or the facts.

  "Oh, my God," Pattie expostulated. As the idea appeared to sink in, she put a hand over her mouth, clearly horrified.

  "But—we can deal with it," Zane finally managed to come up with.

  Over her hand, her eyes gazed at him pleadingly.

  "We can," Zane insisted. He moved toward her.

  "Tristan's father might be..." she said in a small voice. She didn't add the obvious: his mother's murderer.

  "We'll figure it out," Zane assured her. Gently taking her in his arms, he drew her toward him.

  She didn't resist. In his embrace, her strong body shuddered. "Oh, Zane."

  "Pattie," he murmured, and held on tight. "Pattie." It was impossible to take away her anguish, but at least he could help her shoulder it. Thank God, for once, she was letting him. He set his head on hers.

  Perhaps they were in for a rough time here, but in that moment Zane felt more hopeful than ever. For a minute, at least, she was trusting him.

  Zane's eyes closed. If she could only keep this up, they'd be able to deal with anything.

  Yep. Just about anything.

  ~~~

  It wasn't easy getting Zane to let go of her. Clearly, he considered this embrace an important bonding experience. Maybe it could have been. But Pattie was more inclined to consider it a thoroughly embarrassing incident.

  "Ah, yes. I'm okay now." Putting on a wan smile, she pushed away from him, probably more firmly than gently. At first, she'd liked being in Zane's arms; she'd felt comforted and safe in a cold and unsafe world. And then she'd felt stupid.

  Well...a little worse than stupid. She'd felt needy. If it had been unpleasant to presume that Tristan's father was Nick, it was far worse now to imagine his father might have been one of Savannah's biggest blackmail victims. What if the guy had done something awful—? Pattie shook her head, unable to hold the idea in her mind.

  "I think...I'd like some time alone now. To take it all in." She nodded, unable to meet Zane's eyes. Here he was, probably imagining they were all together and mushy and everything, and all she wanted was escape.

  Zane cleared his throat. "If you're sure..."

  "I'm sure." Finding her wan smile again, Pattie threw it at him and then stumbled toward the stairs.

  In her brief glance, she thought he looked hurt.

  Great. She was embarrassed and he was hurt. She was doing just great here.

  Pattie holed up in her office for the rest of the afternoon. She wanted to find her sense of self again, her old inner strength.

  It didn't happen. Instead, she found herself becoming yet more unsettled as she spent the hours researching Ted Cranston on the Internet. She wasn't able to discover much beyond what they'd already read in Norman's magazine article.

  What they had wasn't enough to prove a damn thing, certainly not enough to interest the authorities. Somewhere, Savannah must have stashed a paternity test. She must have had some evidence over which to wield her blackmail. Pattie wondered if she'd hid that evidence in the same place as her notes for the big exposé Bree kept talking about. Location unknown.

  When Pattie finally emerged from her lair, Zane was waiting. He looked solemn, maybe even worried. About her? The idea was disturbing. She didn't think of herself as someone to be worried over.

  "I made supper," he said.

  "Oh." Pattie looked down at her watch. Her eyes widened. More time had passed than she'd imagined. "Um...thanks."

  "And put Tristan to bed."

  Pattie winced. Far more time had passed. "I took advantage of you, didn't I? Do you want overtime?"

  A faint smile edged his mouth. "I'll take that in watching you eat."

  Pattie sighed. "You're too easy."

  Only, maybe he wasn't. She hadn't much appetite as she sat at the dining room table. As she regarded the plate of spaghetti and meatballs Zane set before her, she realized eating was going to be a chore.

  Added to that was the difficulty of sitting under the spotlight of Zane's inescapable concern. Oh, he twirled his own forkfuls of spaghetti, but he kept looking across the table at her. Clearly worrying.

  She felt suffocated.

  Finally, Zane set down his fork. "I've been thinking about Ted Cranston."

  Pattie nodded. She'd known Zane would bring up the subject.

  He leaned forward. "I think we should leave well enough alone."

  Confused, Pattie blinked. "What?"

  "Leave him alone. Don't pursue this." Zane lifted his hands. "Let's say he did—whatever. He clearly doesn't see you as a threat. But if we make waves, well..." Zane pursed his lips. "He might view you in the same light he viewed Savannah."

  Slowly, Pattie set down her
own fork. "Let me get this straight. You think Cranston may well have—have killed Savannah...and you think I should do nothing about it?"

  His expression was both stubborn and grim. "I'm thinking of your safety. And that of Tristan."

  Oh, right, throw in the kid to make her feel like she had to take his suggestion seriously. But Pattie wasn't such a pushover. She felt too strongly about getting Ted Cranston. She wanted him tried and convicted. She wanted justice. Yes, this was one thing she'd admit she did need.

  "For all we know, he already considers me and Tristan a threat," she pointed out. "We have to get answers."

  With the clench of his jaw, he visibly conceded her point. In a curt voice, he asked, "How?"

  A good question. Pattie groped for something bold. "What about going to his cosmetics company office in Beverly Hills?"

  Blurting this out was worth it for the expression of horror on Zane's face. "What?"

  "If we surprise Cranston," Pattie argued, "he might spill some evidence that would incriminate him."

  Frowning fiercely, Zane shook his head. "That's what we tried with Lonny Domino. It could have gotten real ugly real fast if she'd actually been Savannah's murderer. Way too dangerous."

  "Oh, come on. What's Cranston going to do to us in a Beverly Hills office?"

  "It's not what he'd do there, but what he might do later...at his leisure."

  Damn. Zane was right. Of course he was right. But Pattie's face felt hot. She had to do something. She couldn't just let Cranston off.

  Most of all, though, she didn't want to agree with Zane. She didn't want to slide under his overprotective concern. While she sometimes liked Zane taking care of her now and then, she didn't want to let that partiality turn into something mushy and weak. When push came to shove, she could only depend on herself. She needed to keep her backbone.

  "Okay, fine. I gotta make sure he doesn't think I intend to blackmail him like Savannah did. So...I out him." Pattie started to get excited. Actually, this was a better idea anyway. "I go to his house, ask to speak to his wife. No blackmail gonna happen after that, right?"

  Zane looked like he'd stepped on a rattlesnake. "He'd be furious."

  "Oh, for sure. He paid big bucks to keep that secret, and maybe even murdered someone. But if I tell his wife, it's all over. The blackmail, everything. And he couldn't try to get revenge on me without becoming a prime suspect."

  Zane opened and closed his mouth a few times. He was clearly grasping for an argument to stop her plan. He wouldn't find one. This was perfect.

  "Why do you think telling his wife would end the thing?" Zane finally asked. "For all we know she'd decide to go into cahoots with him."

  "Even if he murdered me?" Suppressing a shudder at the idea, Pattie shrugged. "I don't think so."

  Zane's face turned a deep shade of red, which filled Pattie with defiant satisfaction. She still had the power to make him mad.

  "You need a witness." His jaw clenched tight. "Cranston should know you aren't the only one with this knowledge. He should know someone would point to him for motivation if anything happened to you." Zane paused. "You take me."

  Pattie had seen Zane angry before, but never with this emotional intensity. It was practically visible in the air between them. The fact she'd been the one to cause his fury sent a thrill of mixed excitement and fear through her.

  Was he angry enough to reject her?

  Pattie almost swallowed her tongue at the thought. Is that what she wanted?

  Well...actually...maybe a part of her did want to push him to that point. She wanted to know there was such a place. There had to be, right? It was the existence of this place that made it dangerous to need him.

  Now, she lifted a shoulder. "Fine. You think there should be a witness? Come along."

  "You better believe I'm coming." Zane's voice was gritty.

  He was very angry. Which was good. Terrific. Fantastic.

  "If you'll take care of the dishes, I'll go see if I can discover his home address," Pattie said, prodding even more.

  Zane's eyes narrowed. "You do that."

  ~~~

  She was trying to drive him crazy.

  Zane knew that. The idea was firm in his mind late Wednesday afternoon as he pulled his Porsche to the curb on a wide residential street in Beverly Hills.

  Marching down the street ahead of Zane was a row of palm trees, tall and thin. They stood like sentinels before one fancy mansion after another. Each house appeared determined to outdo the other, with a Persian palace here and a cubist edifice there. Each house stretched at least two stories high and each sat in a bed of lush landscaping.

  Zane was glad he'd gone the suit-and-tie route. The more serious an opponent he looked to Cranston, the better. In his car, he lowered the windows, then turned off the motor. A hiss escaped his lips.

  He only wished he didn't feel like he had two opponents here. Ted Cranston—and Pattie. She'd claimed having Zane along as a witness was silly overkill. Then she'd made a point of going off to find Ted Cranston's address on her own. As if all of that weren't enough, she'd next insisted they drive to Cranston's house separately.

  She was making her point crystal clear: she would not rely on Zane.

  If he were feeling unkind, he'd suppose she was deliberately trying to upset him, trying to knock him off balance and make him despair of their relationship. But he knew better.

  She was testing him.

  Blowing out another breath of air, Zane glanced at his watch. The external thermometer of his car read in the nineties, but he was determined to keep his cool. Pattie had been waving a red flag, trying to make him charge.

  He wasn't going to do it.

  Now, purposefully early to their meeting time, Zane looked up from his watch and took a moment to study the house across the street from him. It was a replica of an antebellum Southern mansion, with fluted columns holding up a white portico. Pattie had found the address from an online roster of the ballet school where all four of Ted Cranston's daughters took lessons.

  An attention to appearances was evident in the landscaped yard, complete with granite stepping stones placed amid a jungle of ferns and banana plants. This was not a yard for children to play—indeed none of the homes here had such yards, the public street not deemed safe enough for the progeny of the wealthy.

  Try as he might, however, Zane could deduce nothing about Cranston from the outside of his house, except that he liked to spend money.

  A white Rav4 went zipping up the street past Zane's parked Porsche.

  His heart hitched a beat. Pattie.

  The car slowed at the closest intersection, then pulled into a careful U-turn.

  Zane made a deliberate effort to calm himself. He wanted to clear away his frustration from last night. He'd felt hurt by Pattie's lack of trust.

  Such hadn't been logical. Of course she didn't trust him. She had an issue with trust. He knew that. He'd known it from the beginning. It didn't make sense to feel angry because she hadn't yet managed to overcome this little problem.

  For one thing, it wasn't a little problem. Zane reminded himself of this as he watched Pattie's car return more slowly down the street toward Cranston's house. Trust wouldn't come easily to a woman with Pattie's personal history. Both her boyfriend and her sister had betrayed her, but that was nothing compared to the earlier betrayal Zane suspected by people even more important: her parents.

  That's why he'd been trying to be patient, waiting for Pattie to figure out how to trust.

  But it was getting damn hard to wait, Zane admitted, as Pattie slowed to a stop directly in front of Cranston's address. Last night things had reached a point where he'd wondered if she'd ever learn.

  He'd wondered if he wasn't a great, big idiot. Although he was determined not to play into Pattie's game of rousing his temper, he had to wonder if this idea about waiting and expecting her to change was just a scam he was pulling on himself. He had to wonder if he was making up excuses to be with her, when h
e shouldn't be with her at all.

  After a brief hesitation, Pattie continued down the street past Cranston's address. She came to a complete stop one house down. Zane saw her turn and look back at him through her window. She beckoned.

  A drop of warmth fell into his funk. He didn't have to be defeatist here. Pattie had already come pretty far. In fact, he was convinced that, deep down, she wanted to trust him. She just needed—she needed—

  An example.

  Zane's scowl cleared. Quickly, he turned his ignition key enough to roll up his windows, then got out of his car. That's right. Pattie needed an example of how trust worked. This was something he could show her. Today he'd show Pattie that he trusted her.

  He hadn't always been so good at that. Usually, he was informing her that she needed him for this or for that, implying she was unable.

  Today would be different. He'd let her run the show. However she wanted to do things, he'd go along with it. Zane crossed the street toward her car.

  She had her own car window rolled down. Looking inside, Zane saw that she, too, had opted for formal office wear, donning one of her navy skirt suits.

  "I don't think he's home yet, do you?" she asked.

  "I doubt it. He's boss of his own company. We'll be lucky if we aren't waiting here for hours."

  Pattie nodded. The same online roster which had given her this address had also supplied the useful information that all four of Cranston's daughters were away at ballet camp this week. Pattie and Zane wouldn't have to worry about involving the children.

  "Come on in." Pattie unlocked her car doors with a flick of a switch.

  She seemed to have calmed down since their tiff the night before, Zane thought, walking around her car to enter the passenger side door. His nascent optimism took heart. Perhaps she now regretted the tack she'd taken, testing him. Perhaps she even realized how useless it had been.

  Perhaps they could make this thing work, after all.

  In this spirit, Zane bit his tongue on his most pressing question: what had Pattie done with Tristan? He wanted to show he trusted her. In silence then, he settled into the seat next to her.