by Lisa Jackson
“Well, Merry Christmas.”
“You, too.”
“We all miss you.”
“I know, but there’s no way I can get to the airport.” Nor can I leave Carol. At that particular thought her heart twisted painfully. How could she ever give up the baby?
“Yeah, I know.” Joel sounded disappointed and they talked for a little while before she had the nerve to bring up their sister.
“You know, I haven’t seen her since—geez, I can’t remember when,” Joel admitted, though there was some hesitation in his voice, a nervous edge that Annie hadn’t heard earlier. “But then I didn’t really expect to hear from her over the holidays. You know how it is with Nola—hit or miss. This year must be a miss.”
“You don’t have any idea where she is?”
“Nope. She did call, oh, maybe a month or so ago and said she was leaving Seattle, but that was it. No plans. No forwarding address. No damned idea where she’d end up. I can’t imagine it, myself, but then I’ve got a wife and kids to consider.” Annie could almost see her brother shaking his head at the folly that was his younger sister.
She noticed O’Shaughnessy studying her and turned her back, wrapping the telephone extension around herself and avoiding his probing gaze as she asked, “Do you know if she’s been in any kind of trouble?”
“Nola? Always.”
“No, no. I mean serious trouble.”
There was a pause. “Such as?”
“Is it possible that she was pregnant?”
Another moment’s hesitation and Annie knew the truth. “Joel?” Annie’s heart was thundering, her head pounding, her hands suddenly ice-cold.
Her brother cleared his throat, then swore roundly. “I’m sorry, Annie, but Nola didn’t want you to know.” Annie closed her eyes and sagged against the kitchen counter. So it was true. At least part of O’Shaughnessy’s story held up. Joel sighed. “Nola knew how badly you wanted a baby and with your miscarriages and the divorce and all, she thought—and for once I agreed with her—that you should be kept in the dark.”
So the baby really was Nola’s. “Did she say who the father was?” Annie’s voice was barely a whisper.
“Nah. Some guy who was in and out of her life in a heartbeat. A real louse. She decided that the best thing to do was to . . . well, to terminate.”
“No!”
“Annie, there’s nothing you can do now. That was months ago. I tried to talk her into giving the kid up for adoption but she claimed she couldn’t live with herself if she knew she had a baby out there somewhere with someone she didn’t know raising it . . . I figured it was her decision.”
“When was this?”
“Seven—maybe eight months ago. Yeah, in the spring. End of March or early April, I think. You’d just confirmed that David was about to be a father—the timing was all wrong.”
“When . . . when was she due?”
“What does it matter?”
“When, damn it!”
“About now, I guess. No . . . wait. A few weeks ago, I suppose. I never asked her what happened. In fact, we never really talked again. I just assumed she did what she had to do and got on with her life.”
“Did she say who the father was?”
“No.”
“Just the louse.”
She rotated out of the phone line coils in time to notice Liam wince.
“Right.”
“Did she date anyone else?
“I can’t remember. There was the guy with the Irish name—the father, I think.”
“O’Shaughnessy?”
“Right. That’s the bastard.”
“No one else?”
“What does it matter, for crying out loud.”
“It matters, okay?”
“Well, let me think.” He sighed audibly. “I can’t think of anyone. Polly—” His voice trailed as he asked his wife the same question and there was some discussion. “Annie? Polly thinks there was another guy. Somebody named Tyson or Taylor or what?” Again his voice faded and Annie’s heart nearly stopped beating. Liam was studying her so hard she could hardly breathe. “Yeah, that’s right. Polly seems to think the guy’s name was Talbott.”
“Peter Talbott?” Annie said and Liam’s expression became absolutely murderous.
“Yeah, that’s the guy.”
“Good, Joel. Thanks.”
“Are you okay?”
“Right as rain,” she lied. The room began to swim. Annie’s throat was dry. She brought up his kids and, for the moment, Joel’s interest was diverted. Liam, however, seemed about to explode. His hands balled into angry fists and his eyes were dark as the night.
“Look, I’ll see you after the first of the year,” Joel finally said before hanging up. “And if I hear from Nola, I’ll tell her you need to speak to her.”
“Do that.” She unwound the cord from her body and let the receiver fall back into its cradle. “So,” she said in a voice she didn’t recognize as her own. “It looks like part of your story is true. Joel knew about the pregnancy.”
Liam’s jaw tightened perceptively. “All of my ‘story,’ as you call it, is true, Annie. You’ve just got to face it.” Carol was sleeping in his arms and Annie’s heartstrings pulled as she saw the baby move her lips. Golden eyelashes fluttered for a second, then drooped over crystal-blue eyes.
“Here—let me put her down.”
She took Carol from his arms and in the transfer of the baby, they touched, fingers twining for a second, arms brushing. As she placed the baby in her basket, Liam rubbed the back of his neck nervously, then shoved the curtains aside to view the relentlessly falling snow. He had to get out of the cozy little cabin with its built-in family. Not only was there a baby who had already wormed her way into his heart, but the woman who wanted to be the kid’s mother had managed to get under his skin as well. It was too close—too comfortable—too damned domestic.
“So Talbott’s the guy.”
“Polly, my sister-in-law, seems to think Nola was involved with him.”
“Figures,” he said, conjuring up Talbott’s face. Short and wiry, with blond hair, tinted contacts, and freckles, Pete was as ambitious as he was dogged. But Joel hadn’t thought him a crook. Well, live and learn. “When’s this gonna end?” he growled, staring through the frozen windowpanes. Anxious for a breath of fresh air and a chance to clear his head, he snatched up his jacket and rammed his arms through the sleeves. Snagging the wood basket from the hearth, he was out the door in an instant. Outside, the wind keened through the trees. Snow and ice pelted his face and bare head. He shoved gloves over his hands and wished he’d never given up smoking. A cigarette would help. Confronting Nola and Talbott would be even better.
What the hell was he going to do about the situation here? When he’d first stepped inside the cabin he’d planned to interrogate Annie, find out everything he could about Nola, grab his kid, and leave. Then he’d come face-to-face with the woman and damn it, she’d found a way to blast past his defenses, to put him off guard, to make him challenge everything he’d so fervently believed.
“Hell, what a mess!” He piled wood in the basket and headed back inside. As he entered, a rush of icy wind ruffled the curtains and caused flames to roar in the grate. Annie didn’t say a word and he dumped the wood, then stormed outside, needing the exercise, having to find a way to expend some restless energy, wanting to grab hold of his equilibrium again.
Annie heated water for coffee and more formula and tried not to watch the door, waiting for O’Shaughnessy. Somehow she had to get away from him, to think clearly. From the moment he’d barged into her life, she’d been out of control, not knowing what to do. She was certain that as soon as the storm lifted, he’d be gone. With Carol. Her heart broke at the thought, for though she told herself she was being foolish and only asking for trouble, she’d begun to think of the baby as hers. Hadn’t the card said as much? For you, Annie. What a joke. Nobody gave a baby away. Not even Nola.
But the b
aby was here.
If Carol were truly Nola’s child and if Nola had left the baby on Annie’s doorstep—presumably to raise, at least for a while—then didn’t she have some rights? At least as an aunt, and at most as the guardian of choice. But what if the baby is really O’Shaughnessy’s? What then? What kind of rights do you think you’ll have if he’s truly Carol’s biological father? Face it, Annie, right now Liam O’Shaughnessy holds all the cards.
He shouldered open the door, shut it behind him, and dropped a final basket of wood near the hearth. “That should get you through ’til morning.”
“Me through? What about you?”
“I won’t be staying.”
Dear God, he hadn’t changed his mind. He was leaving and taking Carol with him. Panic gripped her heart. “You don’t have to go—”
“Don’t worry, Annie,” he said, his lips barely moving, his eyes dark with the night. “I won’t rip her away from you. At least not tonight.”
“Noble of you.”
He snorted. “Nobility? Nah. I’m just looking out for my best interests. It’s sub-zero outside and I don’t think I could move the Jeep even if I tried. The kid’s better off here, where it’s warm.”
So he did have a heart, after all. She should have been surprised, but wasn’t. His gaze held hers for a breath-stopping second and she read sweet seduction in his eyes. Her blood thundered and she looked away, but not before the message was passed and she knew that he, too, wondered what it would feel like to kiss. Aside from the baby, they were alone. Cut off from civilization by the storm. One man. One woman. She swallowed hard.
“Carol will be safe here.”
“I know.” He dusted his gloved hands and reached for the door. “But I’ll be right outside, so don’t get any funny ideas about taking off.”
“Outside?” She glanced at the windows and the icy glaze that covered the glass. “But it’s freezing . . .”
“I don’t think it would be a good idea if I slept in here, do you?”
The thought was horrifyingly seductive. “No—no—I, um . . . no, that wouldn’t work,” she admitted in a voice she didn’t recognize. Sleeping in the same little house as O’Shaughnessy. Oh, God. She swallowed even though her mouth was dry as sandpaper.
“Yeah. I didn’t think so.” He crouched at the fire, tossing in another couple of logs before prodding them with the poker that had been leaning against the warm stones. Annie tried not to stare at the way his faded jeans stretched across his buttocks, or at the dip in his waistband where the denim pulled away from the hem of his jacket. However, her gaze seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to this man. Annie licked her lips and dragged her gaze back to the baby.
He dusted his hands together. “That should do it for a while. If it dies down—”
“I can handle it,” she snapped.
His smile was downright sexy. “I know. Otherwise I wouldn’t leave. I’ll see ya in the morning.” For the first time she noticed the lines around his eyes. “Think about everything I’ve said.”
“I will.” She didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed. Relieved—she should definitely be relieved.
His smile wasn’t filled with warmth. “I won’t be far.”
“But the storm—”
“Don’t worry about me, Annie,” he said, one side of his mouth lifting cynically. “I learned a long time ago how to take care of myself.” He was out the door and Annie watched at the window where, despite the freezing temperatures and falling snow, he settled into his Jeep.
“Just go away. Take your incredible story and wild accusations and leave us alone,” she muttered under her breath. But she couldn’t help worrying about him just a little.
CHAPTER 5
“Come on, come on.” Liam pressed the numbers from memory on his cellular phone, but the damned thing wouldn’t work. He was too close to the hills or the signals were clogged because of the storm and the holidays. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t reach Jake. “Hell.” He clapped the cell shut and stared through the windshield as he tugged the edge of his sleeping bag more tightly around him. Nothing in this iced-over county was working.
And he needed to talk to Cranston, to report that he’d had a run-in with Nola’s sister, found his kid, and suspected Peter Talbott of being the culprit in Bill Arness’s murder. But he didn’t want to use Annie’s phone—not while she was in earshot.
Nola was involved. Up to her eyeballs. There was a reason she’d fingered him for a crime he didn’t commit and it wasn’t just vengeance because he’d broken up with her and unwittingly left her pregnant. Nope, it had something to do with Pete Talbott.
Liam glowered through the windshield. Ice and snow had begun to build over the glass, but he was able to see the windows of Annie’s cabin, patches of golden light in an otherwise bleak and frigid night. Every once in a while a shadow would pass by the panes and he’d squint to catch another glimpse of Annie. His jaw clenched as he realized he was hoping to see her—waiting for her image to sweep past the window. Nola’s sister. No good. Trouble. A woman to stay away from at all costs.
But he couldn’t. Not just yet. His thoughts wandered into perilous territory again and he wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, to press his lips to hers, to run the tip of his tongue along that precocious seam of her lips, to reach beneath her sweater, let his fingers scale her ribs to touch her breasts and . . .
“Fool!” His jaw clenched and he pushed all kind thoughts of Annie out of his mind. So what if she was a package of warm innocence wrapped in a ribbon of fiery temper? Who cared if the stubborn angle of her chin emphasized the spark of determination of her green eyes? What did it matter that the sweep of her eyelashes brushed the tops of cheeks that dimpled in a sensual smile?
She was Nola’s sister. Big-time trouble. The last woman in the world he should think about making love to. Besides, he had other things with which to occupy his mind, the first being to clear his name completely. Then he’d claim his daughter and then . . . then he’d deal with Annie. Just at the thought of her his blood heated and his cock started to swell.
“Down, boy,” he muttered to the image glaring back at him in the rearview mirror. “That’s one female who’s off limits—way off. Remember it.” But the eyes reflecting back at him didn’t seem to be the least little bit convinced.
* * *
Jake Cranston wasn’t a man who gave up easily, but this time he was more than ready to throw in the towel. Nola Prescott seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. How could a woman disappear so quickly?
He’d checked with her friends and relatives, called people he knew who owed him favors on the police force and at the DMV, even spoken to the Social Security Administration, with no luck.
“Think, Cranston, think,” he muttered under his breath as he walked from one end of his twelve-by-fifteen office to the other. It was a small cubicle crammed with files, a desk, and a computer that, tonight, was of no help whatsoever.
Not that it mattered. He’d done his part. Now it was up to Liam. He didn’t doubt that O’Shaughnessy would handle the Nola Prescott situation his own way. But still he was puzzled. Where the hell was she?
It wasn’t often anyone eluded him, but then he hadn’t given up yet. Not really. Deep in his gut he felt that Liam still needed his help and he owed the man his life. Years ago O’Shaughnessy had been the first man on the scene of the hit and run. It had been his grit and brute strength that had helped pull Jake from the mangled truck seconds before it exploded in a conflagration that had lit up the cold winter night and singed the branches of the surrounding trees. The driver of the other car had never been caught, but Jake had discovered a friend for life in O’Shaughnessy.
Now the tables were turned. It was time for Jake to pay back a very big favor and he wouldn’t quit until he did. Getting Liam out of jail had been a start. The next step was hunting down Nola Prescott, no matter that she’d gone to ground. He grunted and reached into the
bottom drawer for his shot glass and a half-full bottle of rye whiskey. His personal favorite. He poured himself three fingers, tossed them back, and felt the familiar warmth blaze its way down his throat to his stomach. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he felt a little better. Finding Ms. Prescott was only a matter of time.
* * *
Liam awoke with a start, his heart pounding crazily, the dream as vivid as if he were still locked away. The sound of metal against metal, keys clicking in locks, chains rattling—all receded with the dawn. He was in the Jeep in the middle of a damned forest. Would it never end? Cramped and cold, he rotated his neck until he felt a release and heard a series of pops. Now all he needed was coffee and lots of it.
Sunlight penetrated the stands of birch and fir, splintering in brilliant shards that pierced his eyes and did nothing to warm the frozen landscape. He shoved open the door and, boots crunching through the drifting snow, made his way to the cabin to see the kid again. And Annie. That woman was playing with his mind, whether she knew it or not.
He lifted a fist to pound on the door when it flew open and she stood on the other side of the threshold. Before he could enter she stepped onto the porch, the dog at her heels, then closed the door softly behind her. “Carol’s asleep.”
“So?”
“I don’t want her disturbed.” Her gloved hands were planted firmly on her hips and she stood in the doorway as if she intended to stop him from entering. Her determination was almost funny—tiny thing that she was.
“She’s my daughter.”
Dark eyebrows elevated as the mutt romped through the drifts, clumps of snow clinging to his hair. “Your fatherhood has yet to be determined.”
“You still want a paternity test?”
“For starters.”
“Not a problem.”
Her eyes, so fierce, were suddenly a darker shade of hazel, more green than gold and not quite so certain. “Good,” she said with more bravado than he expected. “I’ll arrange it. When the roads are clear.”
