The simple story had been acted out by thousands of women thousands of times all over the world. Innocent girls seduced and left pregnant gave up their babies every day. This shouldn't be any different. Yet Hannah found herself fighting tears. Her anger faded, drained away by sadness.
"Tell me about them," Louise said. "The people who adopted you. What are they like? Are you a close family? Did you tell them about my letters?"
"I…" She wasn't sure what to say, then decided the truth would be easiest. "They were killed in a car accident when I was four."
Louise gasped and covered her mouth.
Hannah shrugged. "There wasn't any other family. I was raised in foster homes."
"No," Louise murmured. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. "Oh, no. Hannah. No. I can't… Oh, that's so wrong. It's so unfair."
Louise crossed toward her. Hannah didn't remember standing, but suddenly she was in her mother's arms. They were both crying, Louise with great choking sobs and Hannah silently.
None of it had been fair, she thought grimly. Not what happened to Louise and not what happened to her.
"I'm so sorry," Louise apologized tearfully. "This is all my fault."
Hannah drew in a deep breath and straightened. She brushed her tears away and tried to smile. "It's no one's fault. It just happened. I turned out fine."
"But I wanted more than fine for you. I wanted the best." She moved to the counter, tore off a paper towel and handed it to Hannah, then took one for herself. "I wish I'd known. I would have come for you. All those wasted years."
"We're together now."
Louise wiped her face and offered a shaky smile. "So we are. You're right. That's what's important. We can't do anything to change what happened."
They both returned to the kitchen table. Hannah fought against unfamiliar emotions. She hadn't believed she could be affected by details from the past. Nor had she expected any of it to matter to her. Obviously she'd been wrong.
"I'm glad you wrote to me," she said impulsively.
Louise leaned back in her chair. "It was your brothers' idea. As soon as they found out about you, they wanted me to find you. I'd thought about it for a long time, but I'd been afraid. They gave me the encouragement I needed."
"I'm surprised they were so willing to have a stranger invade their lives. And under such difficult circumstances. It can't be easy for them to think about the past."
"Probably not." Louise smiled sadly. "They're sweet enough not to blame me completely. They know what their father is like. I wasn't the first woman he … well, there were plenty of others. Still, they're happy to meet you, although your being female complicated everything."
"Why? What difference would that make?"
"I think I'll let them explain about that."
Hannah decided not to pursue the matter. She had other, more pressing questions. She sorted through them in her mind and found the one that concerned her the most. "Are you very ill?"
Louise raised her eyebrows. "Ill? No. Why?"
"In your letter you said we should get together while there was still time. At first I assumed it was because you were old and frail. But that's obviously not it, so I decided you must be sick."
Soft laughter filled the kitchen. Louise smiled broadly. "I'm disgustingly healthy. All I meant by that was that we'd wasted so much time already. Twenty-seven years apart. I didn't want to go another day without knowing my daughter."
She stretched out her arms, sliding her hands across the table. Hannah hesitated for a moment, then placed her palms on top of the other woman's fingers. They clasped hands.
"I'm so glad you came," Louise said.
"Me, too."
Hannah was pleased to find that she meant it. Things were working out better than she'd hoped. She liked her mother. Now that she understood a little about the circumstances of her birth, she could see that Louise hadn't had many options about her child. The anger was still there, but it was fading. She had a whole family to meet and be a part of. Until they found out the truth.
Her good spirits faded quickly, squashed by the weight of her lies. Nick. What was she going to do about him? What was there to say? She cleared her throat to try.
"About Nick and me," she began.
"Oh, he's wonderful," Louise said. "Very good-looking. Of course, the women in our family do have an eye for handsome men. Sometimes much to our regret. But in your case, you chose wisely. He cares about you. That's obvious in the way he looks at you."
Hannah shifted uncomfortably. Great. Her mother applauded her taste in men. What would happen when Louise found out Nick was nothing but a common thief and that her only daughter was a liar? As for Nick caring about her, well, Hannah didn't know what Louise saw in his gaze. Lust, maybe. If he watched her at all, it was to make sure he knew where she was so she wouldn't run off without paying him.
"Now what about Nick?" Louise asked.
Hannah forced herself to smile. She couldn't tell the truth just yet. It would spoil everything. "I'm glad you like him," she said lamely.
"Me, too. I'm so pleased he's staying with you while you're here. We'll be able to spend lots of time together."
Another burst of conscience tightened her chest. Another lie. Nick would be getting his "phone call" tomorrow and heading back to Southport Beach. At least then Hannah would be able to draw in a breath without worrying about what he was going to say or do. But instead of feeling relief, something oddly like regret filled her as a tiny voice whispered she might actually miss Nick when he was gone.
* * *
"Where did you go to college?" Travis asked.
Nick lowered the measuring tape and made a note on the paper he'd placed on the windowsill. He turned to face the man who would have been his half brother-in-law if he and Hannah were really married.
"University of California at Santa Barbara," he said because it was true. He had a four-year degree, in economics of all things. It hadn't done him a damn bit of good when he'd first joined the Santa Barbara Police Department, although all those business courses had come in handy in the past year.
While working the scams necessary to bring down the bad guys, he'd actually bought and sold land, planned subdivisions and made a presentation to Southport Beach city planners about a shopping center he wanted to develop.
He remeasured the top of the window, wanting to get it right. When he'd double-checked the pencil marks on the pale yellow walls, he reached for a hammer.
Behind him, Travis and Kyle smoothed the wallpaper border that they'd applied halfway up the wall. Its circus animals danced across the paper. Pudgy lions played trumpets, the giraffes had trombones, and hippos in tutus waltzed with zebras in top hats. Craig was installing cream-colored miniblinds while Jordan supervised everyone's work.
The baby's room was good-size. Maybe fourteen by sixteen. Under normal circumstances, it would have felt spacious, especially empty of furniture. But with five guys in it, all moving around and trying to work, the space seemed confined. It had taken Nick a couple of minutes to figure out he was here to be grilled. The casual questions had started a couple of hours ago and so far hadn't let up.
He didn't mind. If Hannah had been his sister, he would have done the same thing.
After making a small hole in the plaster with a nail, he pulled it out and tapped screw anchors into place. Next he lined up the brass bracket with the marks on the wall and secured it in place. There were three lengths of fabric in the closet. Jordan had explained that Holly wanted miniblinds to keep out the light, then fabric matching the border print would be draped around the windows. Nick had a vague idea of what it was all going to turn out like, although he'd never understood how women could take some cloth, tie a couple of knots and make the whole thing look like it was out of a magazine photo shoot. But he did know how to install brackets.
"How long has Hannah been a cop?" Jordan asked.
"Since she graduated from college."
Kyle stepped back to admire the wallpap
er border and grinned. "That proves she's a Haynes. Except for that traitor there—" he motioned to Jordan "—we're all cops."
"I know," Nick said.
Craig finished screwing in the supports and bent down to grab the last miniblind. "That doesn't make you nervous, Nick, does it?"
"Being surrounded by Glenwood's finest?" He shook his head. "Not me. My conscience is clear. I sleep like a baby at night."
Except for last night when he had lain awake knowing Hannah was only a few feet away. He'd tried to relax, but questions about what she'd worn to bed and how she would look sleeping had kept him tossing and turning on the too-short sofa.
"It shouldn't bother him," Kyle said. "After all, he's married to a cop."
"That's right. Hannah keeps me in line."
Kyle measured the distance from the bedroom door to the closet, then called the number to Travis. "Hannah is the first girl born to the family in four generations."
Nick tapped a screw anchor into place. "That's unusual."
"Maybe, but it's true. Our father is one of six brothers. His grandfather is one of five, and his great-grandfather is one of eight boys."
"But you four have daughters."
"Not me," Craig said quickly. "At least not yet. Jill is going to have a girl."
"Holly and I don't have children yet," Jordan added. "But hers will be a girl, too."
The four brothers exchanged a look, but Nick didn't know what it meant. There was some kind of secret in the air. He wasn't sure if he should pursue it or not. Then he decided if they wanted him to know, they would tell him.
"You and Hannah think about having children?" Travis asked.
Nick set the brass bracket against the wall. "We've talked about it. I'd like children but the timing just hasn't been right."
Most of the time, lying was easy, but sometimes, like now, it was damn hard. Travis accepted the explanation without question, yet Nick found himself wanting to say more. He liked these men. More important, he respected them. He wanted the feeling to be mutual. Maybe it was, but anything they thought about him now would change if they knew the truth.
He grimaced. Which truth? That he was pretending to be Hannah's husband, or that he was pretending to be a criminal? They were cops. They would understand about undercover work. The need to confide in them almost overwhelmed him. He fought against it. Too risky. He'd spent the past year setting up the deal – he wasn't going to blow it just so Hannah's brothers could slap him on the back.
Until the job was finished and everyone was in jail, he was going to stay Nick Archer, shady character.
He glanced around at the men in the room. With their dark hair and eyes, they reminded him of Hannah. Knowing that he was here with her brothers must be making her crazy.
"How's the real-estate market?" Travis asked.
"Coming back," Nick answered. "We've had a few slow years, but the recovery has started. I didn't lose much money because I work the beach areas. Waterfront property is always at a premium."
"Swindle anybody lately?" Kyle asked, grinning.
Nick returned his smile. "Not this week."
He finished installing the last bracket and climbed down the step stool. The wallpaper border was nearly complete. Craig released the miniblind so it zipped down, covering the window. He turned the handle, opening the slats, and sunlight filled the room.
"Looks great," Jordan said, surveying their work. "I guess the women will be over later to take care of the drapes."
Travis and Kyle smoothed the remaining wallpaper into place. Craig leaned over and punched Jordan in the arm. "You getting scared yet?"
Jordan didn't smile. "Terrified. When we're in bed at night, I can feel the baby kicking against my side. What do I know about being a father?"
Kyle nodded. "I know the feeling, but if I can do it, you'll be fine. You sort of learn as you go. Besides, we'll all be here."
Nick listened to their conversation. These men had a special bond. They cared for each other and they would care for Hannah. If she let them.
She'd spent most of her life assuming the worst about people. She'd concluded that if they tried to get close, they must want something from her. So much of her energy was consumed in attempting to hide her feelings. Her whole outlook would have been different if she'd been raised in this warm, close-knit family. Knowing Hannah as he did, he was sure she was going to resist believing something this great had happened to her. She would get all prickly and try to scare them off. Unless something – or someone – stopped her.
As he had a thousand times before, he wondered why he cared so much about Hannah Pace. She sure as hell didn't go out of her way to be pleasant to him. The combination of strength and insecurity was appealing. As was the sway of her hips and the flash of intelligence in her eyes. Maybe it was because she hadn't been easy. Most women gave in too quickly to his charm. Never Hannah. She would rather live with roaches than date him.
At first, he'd started teasing her because she seemed such an ice queen. It gave him pleasure to rattle her cage. Then he'd found he liked her snappy retorts and he'd begun looking forward to seeing her. Somewhere along the line, teasing respect had turned to affection. Maybe because he knew it was safe. With Hannah, it would never be real.
If he was honest with himself, he would have to admit his desire to help her fit in with her family wasn't completely altruistic. If he smoothed the way for her, she would remember him fondly, even after he was gone.
"I've got cold beer in the fridge," Jordan said. "Louise left some sandwiches."
The men started down the stairs. Nick followed last. As their conversation drifted back to him, he began wondering what it would be like if this was for real. If he were married to Hannah and a part of this family.
He shook his head. Whom was he trying to kid? He had still been in elementary school when he'd learned the most important lesson of all – not to get attached. He'd lived by that rule and it had served him well.
* * *
Hannah frowned at her reflection. It wasn't that she didn't like what she saw in the mirror. It was the fact that her hands trembled.
"I can't believe this," she muttered. "All it takes is one family dinner and I'm a basket case."
She drew in a deep breath. It was only dinner with people she'd already met. No big deal. All right, so Louise had mentioned everyone would be dressing. Not formally, just not jeans. So this time they were expecting her and might have had time to think up difficult questions. She would survive. It wouldn't be so bad.
She opened her eye shadow compact and lifted out the tiny brush. Her fingers shook visibly and she bit back a curse. She was a trained professional. What happened to performing under pressure?
She leaned forward and closed her left eye. As she positioned the brush over her lid, the bathroom door opened and Nick stepped inside. He wore a blue T-shirt tucked into worn jeans. The color of the shirt matched the irises of his eyes and did amazing things to her already-rapid heart rate. He'd shaved that morning, but there was a faint darkening around his cheeks and jaws as the stubble highlighted his bone structure.
"You going to be much longer?" he asked.
She stared at his reflection, meeting his gaze. "Maybe you didn't notice, but the door was closed."
"I noticed. That's why I came in. How much longer are you going to hog the bathroom?"
"I just need to finish my makeup. A closed door is usually a request for privacy. You could have knocked."
"Yeah, I could have."
He leaned against the wall by the shower and folded his arms over his chest. The action brought his firm muscles into relief. The tiny brush slipped from her fingers and dropped to the counter. She leaned her forehead against the mirror.
"I'm never going to finish," she muttered.
"Then you'll just have to share," he said and pulled the hem of his T-shirt out of his jeans.
She couldn't bear to think about his undressing in her presence. She grabbed the brush. "Never min
d, I'll hurry."
She ignored his knowing smile and focused on her eyelid. Using every available ounce of concentration, she was able to smooth a stroke of shadow right in the crease. She smudged it with her ring finger, then straightened to study the effect.
"Beautiful," he said.
She ignored his comment. "What happened with my brothers?"
"The usual. I mentioned how you liked to visit me in prison and that you had a tattoo with my initials right here." He pointed to his backside. "Oh, and I told them about the threesome we had with my cell mate, Bubba, on your last conjugal visit."
In spite of herself, she felt her lips turn up in a smile. "I'm trying to have a serious conversation."
"I'm trying not to." He held up his hands. "Okay, you win. Serious. They asked about real estate, your college. We discussed the baseball season and whether or not the international commodities market is ever going to stabilize."
She closed her right eye and started to apply the makeup. "So nothing dangerous?"
"Not a word. However, tonight could be a different story. It's the banquet for the prodigal daughter. There'll be a fatted calf and tons of questions. So do you want to discuss our stories or should I wing it again?"
She thought about his description of their supposed first meeting. He'd painted such a vivid picture of her hangover on some tropical island that she'd nearly believed him herself. But she couldn't risk more outrageous tales. Not if she planned on coming clean later.
She closed the compact and reached for a pencil eyeliner. "I would need your word that this information would be kept strictly confidential," she warned, still suspicious of his motives.
He stalked toward the counter. She turned to stare at him.
"What are you so damned afraid of?" he asked, obviously irritated. "You can't simply answer the question. You always have to qualify everything. Gee, Hannah, are you afraid you might accidentally reveal something of yourself? The world would probably end if you let someone get to know you, right? In case you haven't noticed, I'm up here because of you. I'm doing this for you. I don't get a damn thing out of it, so maybe you could start acting a little more like a team player and a little less like the lady of the manor."
HUSBAND BY THE HOUR Page 8
