by Nina Bruhns
Just as his own mother had done to him.
He couldn't let it happen. No way. Not to his child.
He took the Chisko file, tucked it under his arm and forced a tight smile. "Thanks, Janey."
As Cole marched to the cobblestone lot behind the law offices, fury simmered in his blood. Shaking his head to clear it, he stabbed his key at the lock of his new ragtop Camaro Z28. On the third try he finally succeeded and wrenched open the door. Gunning the engine like a demon, he squealed out of the lot and onto Colorado Boulevard.
It was his baby she was giving away. He was all but certain. The question was, what was he going to do about it?
* * *
Katarina was more than surprised when Bob Henderson summoned her back to his office less than a week later. True, she had been avoiding his phone calls, knowing he'd pressure her to reconsider her decision not to go through with any adoption. But his last message said she must appear because she was being served with some kind of papers. She couldn't imagine what it was all about.
When she arrived at his office, she shook hands with Henderson, who introduced her to another woman. The woman was petite and slim, with long black hair falling to her waist.
"Rini, this is Tanya Proudhomme. She's from the Southern California Native American Center."
Katarina felt the first prick of uneasiness. She brushed off the feeling. What could the woman's heritage possibly mean? Nothing, of course. She looked at her again, more closely. Had she seen her somewhere before? Katarina's uneasiness settled in a roiling ball in the pit of her stomach. At the powwow?
Henderson brought her back with a jolt. "Have a seat, Rini."
Casting a furtive glance at Ms. Proudhomme, she sat. Suddenly, Katarina noticed a man on the other side of the room, standing with his back toward them, silhouetted against the window. Her heart nearly came to a screeching halt. It couldn't be! No, her imagination was working overtime. The man looked nothing like her warrior.
Besides, what would he possibly want with her, when he had so many other women to amuse himself with?
Moistening the bow of her lip, she forced her attention back to her lawyer. "What is this all about, Mr. Henderson?"
Henderson cleared his throat. "Ms. Proudhomme would like to ask you a couple of questions concerning your baby. I've told her you haven't made up your mind about the adoption yet, and in any case it couldn't possibly have anything to do with the Indian Child Welfare Act, but she prefers to ask you herself."
Katarina's heartbeat kicked up a notch. "Indian Child Welfare Act?" She looked from Henderson to Ms. Proudhomme. "I don't understand."
Henderson shrugged elaborately, then gave a little laugh. "She's gotten the crazy notion somewhere that your baby might be—"
"Miss Herelius." The pretty woman with the serious face stepped forward, cutting him off, then sat down across from her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Katarina could see the black-haired man at the window. His posture was ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind his broad back. She blinked, her gaze lingering on the long, brown fingers.
"Miss Herelius, I really have only one question."
The man at the window took a deep breath. Katarina turned and tried to concentrate on the woman, but something about the dark man captured her attention. Something about his hands, and his bearing—straight and proud. Something familiar. She shook herself mentally and pried her attention away from him.
"Your baby, Miss Herelius, can you tell me … is the father Native American?"
Katarina was too stunned to answer. How did the woman know? Could the warrior be trying to contact her? Why?
She scanned the man at the window, her mind frantically comparing him to the warrior. The hair was all wrong, as was his elegantly tailored suit. He didn't seem quite tall enough, either. Still…
It couldn't be him. She wanted to order him to strip off his coat and shirt, so she could see the man beneath. Test the hard muscles in his arms and run her hands over the smooth, bronze skin of his chest. She gripped the chair's armrests and wrenched her focus back to the two people in front of her.
"—said it was absolutely none of their business—"
"Yes. He is Native American," she said, her heart pounding a tattoo. Hoping it was him. Praying it wasn't.
Against all odds, she hoped this could be the answer to all the prayers she'd whispered in the dead of night. To all the tears she'd shed, hoping for a miracle so she could provide for her baby.
The man at the window let out his breath at her affirmation but otherwise didn't move. Ms. Proudhomme seemed surprised but recovered quickly. She sat up in her seat and clasped her hands on her knee. "Thank you, Miss Herelius, for your honesty. It's refreshing these days."
Henderson jumped up from his chair. "Rini, you don't know that for sure." He gave her a used-car-salesman smile. "Did you ask him? Maybe he had black hair and looked like he might be—"
With each moment that went by, Katarina's nerves pulled tighter and tighter. "He was. Why should I lie? But what does his ancestry have to do with anything? We're no longer—" she halted and looked at her knees "—together."
How could it be him? The warrior was a rogue of the first order. Why would he want to help her? He must have more interesting projects to pursue than supporting the bothersome consequences of his careless, if masterful, seductions. After all, he hadn't even waited till the blanket was cold from their lovemaking before he went looking for his next target.
Ms. Proudhomme shot a smug glance at Henderson before continuing. "Are you acquainted with the Indian Child Welfare Act, Miss Herelius?"
She shook her head. "No."
The lawyer sank down in his chair and closed his eyes, sighing.
"Basically, what it says is that where an enrolled Native America child is concerned, the child's nation, or tribe, may have jurisdiction over custody matters regarding that child, and that its own relatives have first preference when a child needs an adoptive home."
Katarina nodded, wondering where this was going. "I understand."
The woman rose and looked at her squarely. "At the center, our work with Indian children is based on one thing alone. What is best for the child." She took a few steps toward the man, then turned back to Katarina and grew serious. "Indian children who are brought up outside their culture often suffer emotionally and experience confusion about their identity later in life. They have the highest rate of suicide among all adopted children."
Katarina swallowed. Her blood hammered ominously in her ears. Where was this going? Maybe the tribe just wanted to be a part of the child's life, to teach it about its heritage. She could live with that. "I'm sorry, but I don't see what—"
"I'd like to introduce you to someone." Ms. Proudhomme looked at the man at the window. "Cole?"
As the man turned, Katarina sucked in a breath of panic. There wasn't a trace of warmth about him. The expression on his face was hard and cold, filled with resentment. An icy chill blew across the room and straight into her soul.
Time ground to a halt, and all she could see was his disapproval boring into her as he slowly—agonizingly slowly—covered the distance between them and came to a halt in front of her chair.
It can't be.
For the briefest second, something flared in his eyes as they fastened onto hers. A spark of heat, of desire, or maybe it was longing. She would never know, because just as soon as it appeared, it was gone. Replaced by armor as impenetrable as the chest plate she had once teased him into removing. She swallowed.
"Miss Herelius, my name is Colton Lonetree. I'm a lawyer."
Colton. Looking up, filled with turmoil and confusion, she saw the answering knowledge in his eyes. Oh, God. Could it really be?
"I'm also the—"
"Warrior!" she whispered tremulously.
* * *
Chapter 4
« ^ »
The silence in the room was palpable. Katarina could feel the others holding their breath.
Lonetree straightened, a vein pulsing in his temple, his expression held carefully neutral. But he couldn't hide the hint of raw vulnerability in his eyes. "Yes. It was me."
Without thinking, she pushed awkwardly to her feet, raising her hand to his face. With unsteady fingertips, she traced his jaw and up his cheek, stroking over his cheekbone. When she reached his brow, his eyelids drifted closed.
Suddenly, they jerked open. He took a step back and regarded her coolly, all the defenselessness that had been there a moment before gone.
Her fingers, suspended in midair, curled into her palm as hurt coiled in her breast. Her eyes narrowed. "Prove it."
Bob Henderson's head turned, revealing his astonished expression. Katarina crossed her arms and stuck her hands under them. She was in no mood to explain why she didn't know who the father of her own baby was.
"Please leave us," Lonetree quietly ordered, and before she could take a breath the room had cleared, leaving them squared off, face-to-face.
She swallowed heavily, but stood her ground. "Well?"
"Prove it? I can do that. In a couple of different ways."
"Such as?"
"We could do a paternity test. Or I could give you a detailed account of what we did in that lodge—" he jammed his hands in his pockets "—starting with the 'armor' I had on."
She felt her gaze falter and a deep heat creep into her cheeks.
"And your charming suggestion about what to do—"
"Stop!" She buried her face in her hands. "Please. No more! I believe you." Her shoulders slumped.
"You never doubted it."
She lowered her hands. "No." She looked Cole in the eye. "What do you want?"
"My child."
The two words slammed into her solar plexus, nearly knocking the wind from her lungs. She stared at him in horror, struggling to gain purchase on a wisp of breath. "No!" The panic inside gripped her heart like a steel claw. "That's impossible! I'm not giving up my baby!"
Lonetree looked down his long, regal nose at her, his black eyes glittering with scorn. "But that's just what you are doing, Ms. Herelius. Giving away your baby. Otherwise what would you be doing here, in the office of an adoption attorney who specializes in India children?"
The yellow pages had come back to haunt her in ways she'd never dreamed. "You don't understand—"
"No, you don't understand. I'm hereby serving you with notice of intention to block the adoption and sue for custody of my child, after it is born, according to the statutes of the Indian Child Welfare Act." His stony gaze slid down her body until it lingered on her swollen belly. "You don't want it. I do. End of story."
The muscles in her womb contracted around the baby and her hands came up to rest protectively on top of it. "But I do want it! It was just…"
His narrow-eyed gaze drilled into her. "Just what? Bad timing? Inconvenient?"
"Oh, for crying out loud, you don't—"
"Or perhaps it's the wrong color?"
The man was a lunatic. "Don't be ridiculous." How could she convince him—
"I'm glad to hear that. But frankly, Ms. Herelius, I have a hard time imagining any reason good enough for abandoning your own child."
His words pierced her soul like a poisoned arrow. Wasn't that exactly what she had been telling herself all these long months, no thanks to him? With a strangled gasp she fell back into her chair. "You pompous jerk! I am not abandoning my child!"
Lonetree's condemning gaze fastened on her. "What would you call it then?"
What was wrong with this man? Why wouldn't he believe her? She had to make him see… Katarina wiped her eyes and took a steadying breath. Falling apart would not help her or the baby. She mentally kneaded her despair into anger.
"I'll say it one more time. This is my baby, and I have no intention of giving it to you or anyone else. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
Katarina rose with as much dignity as she could muster. She couldn't stay in this room another second. If she did, she knew she'd either break down completely or kill somebody. And she was pretty sure it wouldn't be herself.
Lonetree stood rigid before her, fists clenched. She could feel his gaze burning holes in her as she brushed by him. "You're telling me you're keeping it?"
"I'm not telling you anything."
A peculiar look swept over his face, as if he'd just eaten something that didn't agree with him. "It's money, isn't it? I'm a successful lawyer so you figured you could—"
She nearly knocked him over when she spun on him. "Mr. Lonetree, my baby's not for sale."
He scowled furiously. "You know that's not what I meant!"
"And if you'll recall, it was you who contacted me!" Fury arced between them like lightning. "I'm leaving now. I have an anatomy test to study for."
"You can't just walk out. I have rights! I'm the baby's father."
"Are you sure?" she spat out.
Stalking out, she smacked the door closed before be had recovered the ability to speak. Thank God. Dragging a trembling hand over her eyes, she leaned against the reception desk to gather her wits.
Once again she was stunned by the unfairness of it all. She couldn't believe that control over her own decisions seemed about to be snatched away from her. Yet again. By a man who, in one thoughtless night, had changed the course of her whole life. A man who now came brazenly back into it, making outrageous demands about rights. Well, what about her rights?
She heaved a sigh. Was it something in her karma, or what? Lord, give her strength.
* * *
Speechless, Cole stared at the door through which Rini had disappeared. He quickly opened it and glanced at his cousin Tanya, who looked up from shuffling papers.
"What happened?"
"Hell if I know." He pulled in a breath and tried to ignore the odd feeling that had gathered in the pit of his stomach. He didn't like it one bit and fought it like hell, but there it was anyway, gnawing at his got. Was he wrong?
He strode out of the office in time to see Katarina vanish through the front door. "Rini! Miss Herelius!" He ran after her and grabbed her arm when she showed no sign of slowing. "Please wait!"
She yanked away from his grip and brushed at the place his hand had touched. "What is it now? Haven't you done enough for one lifetime?"
"I'm sorry." He said it without thinking. No, he wasn't sorry. He had no reason to apologize for anything. This was all her doing, not his. He shouldn't feel sorry.
So why could he still feel that gnawing at his got?
"I'm sorry I doubted your honor for a moment in there."
She turned on a toe and started for the elevator. "Forget it."
Cole hurried after her. "Miss Herelius, Rini, there are still some things we need to discuss."
She stabbed the down button and glared at him, eyes full of fire. "It's Miss Herelius to you, Counselor. And I have no desire to discuss anything." She turned her back on him.
He grappled momentarily with a memory of her standing just that way, wearing a flowery sundress, breathlessly awaiting his next move. "Miss Herelius, I…"
He wanted so much to hate her. Did hate her. And yet … why, when she'd recognized him just now and reached out to touch his cheek, had he wanted to tug her hand to his lips, to pull her to him and bury his face in her hair? To tell her how hurt he'd been when she'd left him like that? Tell her she still haunted his dreams at night?
He was scared as hell of the answer.
"Miss Herelius, I'd like to know what I can do to help you with this."
She speared the elevator button again. "You can drop dead."
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Let's assume I'm not willing to go that far. Do you need money? For your medical expenses," he added quickly, "and what have you. Insurance can't be covering everything."
"I don't have insurance, but you can be damned sure I wouldn't accept one penny from you even if I had to have the baby by myself in a cave!"
The elevator doors swept open
and she shot in, punching buttons frantically to make the door close before he could follow.
He stepped in after her. "No insurance? Are you getting prenatal care?"
He could see her jaw clench when she faced him. "Yes, I am," she said through gritted teeth. "Now please stop following me. I have nothing more to say to you."
"What about hospital expenses? Are you preregistered anywhere?"
Her eyes squeezed shut and she let out a breath before she answered. "Yes. At UCLA."
The elevator stopped at the ground floor and she flew out, leaving him stroking his jaw contemplatively, grateful that she'd given him one small morsel of information. But he needed more. Much more. Maybe he'd just give UCLA a call.
* * *
"If I weren't the nonviolent type," Tanya said as she eased into the passenger seat of Cole's convertible after the meeting, "I'd try smacking some sense into that thick head of yours."
"Nice."
"What the hell did you think you were doing in there, anyway?" She snapped her seat belt on.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." Cole jammed the Z into gear and rolled out of the parking lot. "None of your business, anyhow."
"Anytime I bring the center into things, it is my business. What did you hope to accomplish by coming on like some kind of heartless monster?" He'd made the mistake of detailing what had happened after she'd left the room.
Horns blared when he whipped a left turn across traffic. "Couldn't help it. I took one look at her and my insides just tied themselves in knots. I am so angry with her for all this. For the way she disappeared. For what she might be doing to our baby." He raked a hand over his hair. Hell, for what she was doing to his sleep. "But I have to stay cool and professional."
"Cold and ruthless, I'd say."
"It's the only way I'll get through this, T."
"Well, I don't like it." Tanya huffed out a breath. "Though I guess I understand. But what if it's true that she's not giving up the baby? Couldn't you just talk things over? And why involve the ICWA before you're sure she isn't?"
"I'd think that would be apparent. I don't trust her. Not for a minute."
