Finding Zoe (Atlantic Divide)

by Diane Saxon

  Fucking hell. Knees like water, Mac wondered what they all would think if he simply sank onto the dock.

  The boat pulled alongside Zoe on the jetty, and the skinny kid launched himself onto the boards, his eyes pinned to his mother’s soaking wet, motionless figure, the dogs close on his heels. Mac’s heart thundered as nausea rolled through his stomach. He didn’t seem to be able to stop gulping in air.

  “Granddad caught trout. We’re having trout tonight.”

  His mother remained silent; her face was pale and strained as she stood frozen while the water dripped ceaselessly around her feet.

  “Why are you wet? Mum?”

  The kid’s head tilted to one side, and then he turned. His mouth dropped open; his huge black eyes goggled.

  “Bloody hell.” A huge smile spread across the kid’s face, white teeth gleaming in contrast to his bronzed skin. “It’s Cormack Blunt!”

  Chapter 2

  She’d changed into dry clothes, but her hair still hung in a wet hank down her back, soaking through her top. She scrubbed at it briefly with a towel, knowing it was going to fuzz all over if she continued. Not a good look. Not that anyone cared right now, least of all her.

  Ryan chattered incessantly, excited by the fact he had one of the top ten movie stars in the world sitting at his kitchen table with him, drinking his mother’s coffee. And in the way of children, he wasn’t interested in why he was there; it hadn’t seemed to occur to him to ask why an action hero would be there. He just wanted to know what film he was making, what character he was playing. Utterly oblivious to his mother’s quandary, Ryan dominated.

  Mac had remained quiet for so long she thought he was going to ignore her son. Then he started to talk, his deep, slow, southern American accent soothed the jittering nerves in her stomach. His voice had always made her melt, but she was just grateful he was calm. It could be so much worse. Closing her eyes briefly, she allowed herself a sigh of relief. Thank God he was calm.

  As her eyelids fluttered open, she gave a thankful glance in his direction and almost fell into the seething black fury of his eyes. As a dark shiver of fear shot down her spine, she knew, beyond a doubt, what a great actor he was.

  Heat scorched her face as she tried not to look directly at the action hero who had once been her lover. Changed beyond all recognition, the sweet boy of her memories had grown into a brooding, lethal man.

  She glanced at her father, who sat in his armchair in the corner of the kitchen. Silent. Watching. He’d barely said a word, and his face was stoic, but he must be as shocked as she was. She’d always known he loved Mac like a son. Her parents had taken him in that summer, embraced him into their small family unit, until the day she’d come home from London. Emory had hardly ever spoken about him since. He’d certainly never forgiven him.

  Desperate to make sure Mac’s smoldering anger didn’t touch either her father or her son, she attempted to make conversation.

  “So…what brings you here, Mac?” She pushed a plate of cake toward him, left over from the day before. It was a little stale, but at least it was an offering. With one long finger, he deliberately pushed it back toward her, his smile tight as he shook his head.

  “I was in the area.”

  Her heart rapped painfully against her ribs. God, he’d changed.

  Eleven years had carved an attractive boy into a devastatingly handsome man. It was just as well he’d left her when he had. She probably wouldn’t have survived the breakup later down the line.

  His agent had been right. He’d needed to leave her behind. He would never have amounted to this with her in tow.

  He was enormous; he filled her kitchen. He’d been tall and had wide shoulders when he was younger, but he’d been so skinny his bones had jutted out across his shoulders and down his spine, but now he’d filled out. Really filled out.

  With the kind of action movies he starred in, it was obvious he’d had to work out, put on weight, and develop muscles. Muscles like she’d never seen before. Not up close. Muscles which, despite everything, made her mouth water. Certainly eleven years ago there’d been no evidence of those rippling under his smooth, golden skin. Eleven years ago when she’d worshipped his body anyway. But now, there was no comparison.

  As her pulse rate started to ratchet up, she couldn’t help running her gaze across his perfect shape. The body she had admired from a distance over the years and watched on the big screen as it developed, as he matured. The muscles across his shoulders and neck stood out, his biceps bulged, and she couldn’t imagine even being able to wrap both her hands around one of his arms. Even his wrists were thick and muscular.

  She swallowed hard.

  As he picked up his coffee cup, lifted it, her eyes were drawn to the movement of his massive chest. His muscles flexed, rippled under the tight black T-shirt designed to emphasize every last curve and indent of his body. Her gaze lifted to the smooth bronze skin of his throat as he swallowed the coffee, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She looked quickly away and picked up her own coffee cup, irritated with herself when she allowed it to rattle on the saucer.

  It was a big mistake to let her imagination take her places it wasn’t wanted. From the fierce look in his eyes, it certainly wasn’t wanted there.

  She’d thought to wait until Ryan ran out of steam, but somehow she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Hero worship didn’t run out of steam; it just kept chugging on. She should know.

  She wiped her damp palms on her cool, khaki linen trousers and stood.

  “Ryan. Go upstairs and get changed out of your fishing gear.”

  “Aw, Mum.”

  She pinned him with her no-argument stare, witnessed him hesitate. Surprised at this, his first sign of rebellion, she lifted one eyebrow and almost smiled when he sighed dramatically and stood, scraping his chair back. Well, he certainly had more of his father in him than just his handsome looks.

  “You can come back down when you’ve showered and changed. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.” It should give her a little time. Not long, though.

  Ryan slumped, his shoulders rounded, his long arms lolloping as he dragged his oversize feet out of the room, scraping them heavily across the tiled floor in protest. Definitely more like his father than she’d realized. Certainly he could turn on the drama.

  She followed, watched him up the stairs, and then came back into the kitchen to sit in the chair opposite Mac. Time to face the music.

  “He’s mine.” Mac’s voice was flat, furious.

  “Yes.”

  Her father sat in the corner, silent, supportive.

  “We need DNA tests.”

  Her mind faltered.

  “Why?”

  He stared at her as though she was stupid.

  “So I have proof when the press gets ahold of this.”

  Panic hit her, rocketing through her veins. She jumped up, overturned her chair in her haste as she stared, horrified, into his deadly serious black eyes.

  “You can’t tell the press. You’ll ruin all our lives.”

  His slow blink warned her. His solid jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, and she tracked the movement of his muscular neck as he swallowed.

  “But you don’t think you’ve ruined my life? By giving birth to my son and not telling me for almost eleven years. With no intention of telling me, ever.” His voice was deep and powerful. It resonated around her kitchen, filled the room. He stood, slow and controlled, and towered over her, burning her with his furious obsidian eyes.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father move to get out of his chair, but she held up her hand to halt him.

  She raised her chin, squared her shoulders, and pulled herself up to her full five feet eight-inch height. If he thought to scare her with his sheer magnificence, he was in for a big surprise. He didn’t scare her. He never had. Not physically, but he was so much of a threat on so many other levels.

  “How dare you!” Stabbing a shaky finger at him, she steppe
d closer. “How dare you come into my house and raise your voice at me and make demands about my son.” Her voice quavered, but she put herself in his path and ground her teeth as she continued. “I came to London.” Unable to restrain herself, she prodded him in the chest and watched with some satisfaction as his eyes widened with surprise. “Eleven years ago I came, and you refused to see me. You sent your agent.” His eyebrows twitched down as his eyes narrowed at her. “You were married within a month.”

  She closed the gap between them, toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose as he bowed his head to glare down at her. “When do you suppose was the right time to tell you?” She was surprised to see him lean back as his eyebrows shot up and his mouth tightened. She crossed her arms over her chest and shot her hip forward. Aggression may not be the way forward, but attitude would help. “On your honeymoon?”

  They stared at each other and the silence stretched out between them. She sucked her breath in through her teeth, about to start another tirade to help her clear him out of her house and possibly their lives.

  “Mum?” Ryan was in the doorway, his face anxious and puzzled. Her knees turned to water as her heart shot into her mouth, rendering her speechless. Mac casually picked up her chair, automatically slid it under her as her legs gave way. Tremors ran through her as she conjured up a weak smile for her little boy.

  “Hey. Come here.” Her voice was a little high-pitched, and he was slow to move, but he came, wrapped his arms around her briefly, and then pulled away. As his familiar black eyes searched hers, she knew he’d heard. Every word.

  “Sit down.”

  “He’s my dad?”

  “Sit down, sweetie.”

  She was aware of Mac moving, sitting heavily down on his own chair. She heard the table groan as he leaned his arms on it and huffed out a breath.

  “I don’t want to sit.” Ryan stared across the table at Mac, lip curled, eyes mutinous. “How can you be my dad?” Snarling, he stepped forward, bared his little white teeth at Mac, and with a jolt, Zoe realized she’d never seen her son so upset and angry, and she’d never seen him so defensive, either.

  “You’ve made my mum sad. You didn’t want us before, we don’t want you now. Go away.”

  “Ryan.” Her father had come to stand beside her as he spoke for the first time, his voice soft, quiet, and undeniably powerful. Ryan’s head whipped around to look at him accusingly.

  “Did you know, Granddad? Did you know who my dad was?”

  Her father nodded.

  “Yes. It was for your own protection. And his. Now sit down, Ryan.” In control, Emory stepped forward, stroked his hand across his grandson’s shoulder soothingly, and let the child sit. Sat in the chair next to him, his eyes solemn.

  Mac remained silent. She felt his eyes on her and couldn’t look at him. Didn’t want to see the unfounded accusation there. She had to concentrate on breathing and staying in control. On helping her son to understand why he had never known who his father was, ensuring she took care not to cast blame. Because if she started to blurt out the truth of the story, she knew she’d never be able to stop until the vitriol and the pain spewed hot and wild out of her. Bitterness and agony she’d believed was behind her surged to the surface, wanting its freedom. Freedom she couldn’t afford it to have.

  From this moment on, her child needed a relationship with his father. Whether she liked it or not—and she understood—to poison their relationship would mean they were all doomed.

  Pretending to be calm in the face of such upheaval actually gave her the strength to face her son. After all, it was not about her issue with Mac but about damage control for her son’s sake.

  “Ryan.” She leaned forward and reached out her hand to touch his knee. “Mac and I…your father and I, we thought we were in love.” Mac snorted and she glared at him. He stared back in stony silence. She knew she’d been in love. It was pretty obvious he hadn’t. But if he hurt her son, she was going to rip his heart out and dissect it with her scalpel on the table in front of him before he had the chance to stop breathing. He met her narrowed eyes, twitched an eyebrow as he heeded her unspoken warning and drew back.

  “We were wrong and we parted. Mac didn’t know I was pregnant with you. He had no idea, Ryan; I chose not to tell him.” She knew she couldn’t let Mac take the blame for that part of it. “He married shortly after, and it would have been wrong to let him know. Unfair on him and his new wife.” Albeit a wife who only lasted a period of roughly six months, but she didn’t need to impart that little nugget to her son.

  She reached out for Ryan’s hands, saw the confusion and anger whirl in his eyes. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but Mac—your dad—was just starting as an actor, then he shot to fame so quickly he was all over the newspapers. And you know, he has been ever since. You know what an amazing success he is. You’ve watched every single film he ever made.” She failed to mention she had too. “Back then, he was just beginning to be a success. It would have damaged his reputation. It would have ruined our lives. We would never have been able to live in peace.”

  “I might not have wanted to live in peace. I might have wanted to know my dad.” His voice was truculent, but there was less conviction.

  “We did what we believed was best for all of us. Grandma died shortly after I knew I was having you, and we wanted to be alone. I needed to go to university, and we didn’t want to attract attention.” She paused, soothed her fingers over the palms of his cold, stiff hands and realized, in the face of his distress, her own shaking had stopped.

  “Perhaps it was wrong of me not to have contacted Mac by now and let him know—” She rolled her eyes as Mac grunted in agreement and thought she might just take pleasure in using a scalpel on him anyway. “But we’re all here now and perhaps we can sort something out.”

  She gently grasped Ryan’s hands and coaxed him toward her as she sat back in the upright chair, pulling him into her arms to snuggle his long, gangly body into hers as she looked over his head, straight at Mac. “Something we can all agree on. With the least disruption to all our lives.”

  Mac crossed his arms over his huge chest; his mouth tightened, reminding her of Ryan when he was at his most belligerent. Hysteria bubbled, and her breath hitched, ending with a loud hiccup that accidentally exploded from her lips. Ryan’s head reared up.

  “Don’t be upset, Mum. We’ll work something out, won’t we, Cormack?”

  Tears of pride filled her eyes as she realized how mature her little boy was. Only ten, and he seemed to have a better emotional grasp on the situation than Mac did.

  “Sure we will, kid. I’m filming here for the next four months. I’m sure we can work something out.” Mac surged to his feet as though panic suddenly seized him, and he filled the kitchen with his sheer size. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He reached his hand out as though he were about to touch Ryan’s head, and then obviously thought better of it. He let it drop, then tucked it into his jeans pocket.

  She watched him depart and closed her eyes as she hugged Ryan to her chest, kissed the top of his head, and silently prayed it was going to be all right.

  *

  Well, bloody, buggering wotsits.

  Ryan stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He met his own eyes, lifted his black eyebrow, and angled his chin. He’d always known he looked just like him. All the kids at school said so. He gave a small smile, twitched his eyebrow, and nodded twice, slowly. Oh yeah, Cormack Blunt. Reincarnated. Bigger and better than before.

  He grinned to himself and squeezed hard on the tube of toothpaste, watched the blue stuff gloop out of the tube and drizzle down the inside of the sink. Mum hated it when he did that. He swiped his toothbrush through it and scrubbed at his teeth, looking in the mirror as the foam expanded and seeped out of his mouth.

  His tummy felt strange. Bubbling and rolling. Not like he needed a good fart. He’d never had this feeling before. It was like when he did something a bit dangerous and he felt anxious, but bigger, b
ecause he felt happy and excited and…

  His mum wasn’t happy, though. She’d looked worried, and Granddad had his hard face on. The one he used sometimes when he’d had to put one of the dogs to sleep and he didn’t want anyone to know he was upset.

  His best friend Jason always said grown-ups were bloody nitwits. Jason’s mum always had lots of different boyfriends. They were assholes.

  Ryan glanced in the mirror at the open doorway just in case his mum could hear his brain swearing. Mums could do that. They had mind control. She could control everything; she’d even controlled action hero Cormack Blunt.

  Cormack Blunt hadn’t known about him, but he did now. It made his tummy flutter all over again.

  Chapter 3

  It was official. Mac wanted her son. She knew that biologically Ryan also belonged to Mac, but he was hers. She’d borne him, raised him, nurtured him, and loved him. What the hell had Mac ever done? It was beside the point he hadn’t known about him. You shouldn’t be able to walk into a ten-year-old’s life and say “I want him, he’s mine” when you had nothing to do with his birth or his upbringing.

  Now Mac’s solicitors were demanding DNA tests. And the birth certificate.

  Disgusted after coming to what she had believed a semi-amicable agreement, it appeared solicitors were already involved up to their armpits in Mac’s business.

  She had no idea what the law stated in America about fathers’ rights, but she’d looked them up in the U.K. It appeared he had no rights unless he proved Ryan’s DNA, found the birth certificate, and applied for parental rights through a court of law. The process required her agreement.

  She had no doubt he could do it, though. Or get his expensive lawyers to do it for him, more likely. He was a multimillionaire. He had plenty of money to throw at them, while in comparison she had virtually none.

  She chewed on her thumbnail as she agonized over what to do. Her chest ached with all the sighing she’d done over the last few days. On one hand, she wanted to turn back time and let life roll on the way it had; peaceful and quiet with just her, Ryan, and her father. But the moment she’d seen Mac, she’d known things were about to change.