“They talk once in a while, but that’s it. He’s pretty much a stranger who shares genes with Ashley. Frank is her father.”
Nick stared at the tiny person asleep on Janet’s shoulder. What had Sierra said to him? That in six months, he’d be a father.
He wouldn’t be, though. He’d be the sperm donor in his child’s life.
“Enjoy your evening with her,” he said.
Janet smiled as she set the baby in a stroller next to her desk. “Better me than you, right?”
“Yeah.” He watched as she gathered her purse and a huge pink quilted bag, slung both over her shoulder and headed for the elevator.
When the door dinged closed behind her, he stood staring at it for a moment. Ashley’s father had taken off like his hair was on fire.
Just as Nick had. He’d scribbled out a check and tried to buy his way out of his responsibilities.
He reentered his office, dropped his briefcase and pulled Sierra’s employment folder out of the drawer. He should have given it back to Janet to store with the files of all the other former employees. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t.
The letter she’d written was stark. Formal. No hint of anything personal, no allusion to why she’d really left.
Why would there be? He’d made his feelings very clear.
He wasn’t interested. His responsibility ended with money. She was on her own.
He slid his hands into his pockets and stared out the big windows at nighttime in Chicago. A forest of brightly lit skyscrapers pointed toward the heavens, monuments to man’s ingenuity and genius.
He studied each of the buildings he’d designed, each of his accomplishments. They were his contribution to the city, the only things he’d ever intended to bring into the world. He could shape those structures, control them, make them exactly what he wanted them to be.
They were his babies. The only kind he wanted.
When he’d designed those buildings, he’d spent months laboring over them. Checking and rechecking their designs and specifications, picking out their flaws, correcting them.
It had been his responsibility as their architect.
Now it was his responsibility to make sure his child had what it needed. And he’d ignored that. Worse, rejected it completely.
That wasn’t the kind of man he was. He took his responsibilities seriously. He prided himself on that. On doing the right thing. Always.
The heat of shame scalded his skin, followed by a wave of anger. He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to be a father.
He had no choice.
He grabbed the rake for the Zen garden on the cabinet next to the couch and dragged it through the sand. Some of the sand spilled over the side, and the carefully drawn symmetrical lines disappeared. The meticulously placed stones toppled over. He threw the rake against the wall and stormed out of his office.
CHAPTER SIX
AS NICK THUMBED THROUGH his mail the following morning, he saw an envelope from Walker Barnes. He picked up his letter opener, thinking about who he’d assigned to the project. Sierra had been the right choice, and the design she’d started had been beautiful. Bob was an okay choice as her replacement.
Maybe Nick should do it himself. It would be some thing different for him, a break from multistory office buildings. Barnes had seemed to like Sierra’s design, so maybe Nick would start with what she had and flesh it out.
He sliced through the thick envelope and shook out the folded letter. A check slid out of it and landed on his desk, facedown.
He stared at it for a long moment before unfolding the letter. The crackling of the cream-colored stationery seemed to fill the room.
Dear Nick,
Thanks for all the work you’ve done on the design for our house. The enclosed check should cover your expenses so far. Jen and I have decided to hire someone closer to home to complete the project.
Barnes had signed it himself.
Nick turned the check over and raised his eyebrows. It was almost twice Sierra’s salary from the past month. Very generous, considering she hadn’t even spent all her time on the Barnes house.
He fingered the check, studying the signature, the date, the amount. He’d been fired from projects before, and he would be again. He prepared for it by getting a retainer before he started a project. Another when the design was approved and the contract was signed.
Walker had paid him a retainer, just like the rest of his clients.
So why was he paying again?
Nick punched the button on his intercom. “Janet, could you come in here, please?”
Moments later the door opened and his admin walked in. “Yes?”
He pushed the letter across the desk and watched as she read it, then picked up the check. She frowned. “What’s this for? His retainer was more than enough to cover your costs.”
“I don’t know. Have you talked to him lately?”
“I would have let you know if I had.”
Barnes had been enthused about the design. Excited. So what had changed since the last time they’d spoken?
Sierra wasn’t working on the project anymore. As far as he knew, Bob hadn’t contacted Barnes yet.
The answer came to Nick in a flash of understanding. He shoved himself away from his desk and reached for the rake for his Zen garden, which he’d thrown against the wall last night, before drawing it carefully through the sand.
“Sierra went up there. She’s working for Barnes,” he said in a flat voice.
“Why would she do that? It only takes a few months to build a house. Why wouldn’t she look for another full-time job?” Janet’s voice was cool, as if she suspected the truth. Which was impossible.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Barnes and his wife loved her design. He told me so, more than once. Then Sierra resigned, and a few weeks later, Barnes pulls his business.” Had she told Barnes about the baby? About the way Nick had blown her off?
For the first time, he saw his behavior as another man would see it. No stretch of the imagination would describe it as honorable.
“I have to go up there,” he said abruptly. “To talk to Sierra.”
“Are you going to try and get her to come back to work?” Janet asked.
“I don’t know.” He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He knew what he wanted to do—run as far and as fast as he could.
But if he wanted to face himself in the mirror, that wasn’t an option.
LIGHT REFLECTING OFF Lake Michigan flashed behind the trees on his right as Nick drove north through Wisconsin. The land was flat, the fields muddy and bare and desolate. Occasionally, he’d pass a sea of black mud pierced by the tips of plowed-under cornstalks. Some of the fields were covered in patchy grass where black-and-white cows grazed. The animals stared at him with dull bovine eyes as he sped past. Why would a city woman like Sierra choose to come up here?
Because it was far away from Chicago. She wouldn’t run into him, living up here in cow land.
He touched the pocket of his jacket, where he’d stashed the check. He would apologize. They would talk sensibly. He’d give her the check, and this nightmare would be over.
He’d make an appointment to get a vasectomy as soon as he was back in Chicago.
SIERRA SAT AT THE GLEAMING wooden table in the kitchen of the Barnes’ rental house as she waited for Jen and Walker. Walker had let her in, told her to help herself to tea or coffee, then he’d run back upstairs.
Sunlight poured over her shoulder and warmed her back. It bounced off the butter-yellow tiles on the lower half of the wall, wrapping her in sunshine. The delicate red, blue and yellow flowers on the wallpaper above the tiles looked as if they were swaying in the breeze from the open window.
It was a rental house, a temporary place to live, but it felt like a home. The obvious love Jen and Walker shared was what made it so comfortable. So welcoming.
It was exactly what Sierra wanted for her child. What she would create for herself, even t
hough she’d do it alone.
But as homey, as welcoming as Jen and Walker’s house might be, it wasn’t an office. Jen’s sons from her first marriage were away visiting their father, but Sierra was still in someone’s house. She heard footsteps above her. Water running. For a moment, she longed for her peaceful work space at Boone and Associates.
That door was closed for good.
The kettle on the stove began to whistle, and as she stood up to get it, she brushed against the wall. An edge of the wallpaper was curling up, and she pressed it into place. She was like that tiny piece of wallpaper—she needed to be smoothed into place, fastened to something. That’s what was wrong—she was in a new town, a new apartment, meeting new people. She needed some glue.
As she poured boiling water over her teabag, she vowed not to feel sorry for herself. She was lucky to be here, working at what she loved. Thankful to have found a refuge for herself and her child when she needed it most.
Fortunate to have the luxury of time to figure out what came next.
As she leaned against the counter and waited for her tea to steep, she forced herself to focus on why she was here. Her hand tightened on the edge of the Formica as she ran over her speech again.
Insurance would cover the cost of replacing the plywood they’d already installed for the first floor of the house. The question was, who had dropped the ball?
She didn’t know yet, but she would find out. She’d prove to Jen and Walker that hiring her hadn’t been a mistake.
She pushed herself away from the counter and set her tea on the wooden table. She wouldn’t be so damn wobbly about this if everything in her life wasn’t so unsettled. She was a professional. She knew what she was doing, and she’d solve this problem.
She smoothed her new shirt over her new maternity jeans. She’d resisted wearing them, but she was almost four months pregnant and hadn’t been able to button her other jeans. Her shirts had all ridden up her belly. The maternity shirt was jersey and clung to her little bump, and she’d already caught herself staring at it too many times. She actually looked pregnant.
It made the baby seem a lot more real.
It was a constant reminder of her tenuous hold on this job.
Jen and Walker appeared at the kitchen door, and Jen’s face was pale. She tried to smile, but her mouth trembled. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Jen had been sick. Sierra was intimately familiar with how a pregnant woman looked after she’d been kneeling in front of a toilet. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. She gestured to the kettle. “The water’s hot, if you want tea.”
Jen sank onto a chair and Walker wordlessly fixed her a cup. “What’s up?” he asked.
Sierra’s fingers tightened on her own cup, then she set it aside. “There’s a problem with the plywood we laid down yesterday.”
Walker froze in the act of setting the tea in front of his wife. “What’s wrong?”
“It won’t hold up construction more than a few days,” Sierra began. “But the plywood wasn’t what we ordered. It was a lot thinner. One of the carpenters put his foot through a piece this morning.”
“Was he hurt?” Walker asked sharply.
“No, he’s fine. But when we pulled up the boards, we realized they weren’t up to spec.”
Walker drummed his fingers on the table. “Didn’t anyone check the plywood when it was delivered?”
“Mark did.” She should have checked, as well. “He said it was fine.”
“Cameron came highly recommended. He’s supposed to be the best.”
“He’ll figure it out. We’ve reordered from the lumberyard, and it should be delivered tomorrow. We’ll get the floor relaid by the next day.”
“This is an amateur mistake, Sierra.” Walker frowned at her.
She knew it was. It wasn’t clear who was at fault, but she was in charge, so it was her responsibility. She wasn’t about to throw Mark under the bus. She’d personally check every piece of plywood in the next batch. “It won’t happen again.”
The doorbell rang, and Walker stood. “I’ll get it.”
Sierra heard the low rumble of men’s voices at the front of the house. She couldn’t distinguish their words, but a frisson of unease chased up her spine.
Jen leaned forward. “Are you sure this will only take a few days? I can’t wait to get out of this house.”
“Yes, I am. And we can make it up somewhere else.” She’d make sure of it, even if everyone had to work overtime.
Sierra took a drink of her tea as Walker’s visitor continued talking. People from town had stopped by other times she’d been at their house, but this voice didn’t sound like the others.
It was flat. A little harder. As if business was being discussed.
Walker began speaking, and Sierra turned to Jen. “I know you’re anxious to move in, and we’ll do our best to make it happen quickly.”
Jen waved at the kitchen walls. “We rented this place before we got married, and it’s just too small for the four of us. I’m always tripping over Tommy’s baseball stuff, and I swear that Nick’s computer equipment reproduces at night. Every day there’s more of it on the dining room table.” She smiled. “Although I suspect Walker has a hand in that.”
Sierra had met the two boys, and liked them both. The older one looked like Jen, and oddly enough, even Walker a little, with his blond hair and light eyes. The younger boy, Tommy, had dark hair and dark eyes. Sierra assumed he looked like his father.
Before she could respond, footsteps approached the kitchen. She glanced up, expecting to see Walker.
Nick Boone walked into the room.
She froze in her chair.
He stood studying her for a long moment, and hope sprang to life. Had he come to tell her he’d changed his mind? That he wanted to be part of his child’s life?
One look at his hard, distant expression told her otherwise. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“We have some unfinished business. And I don’t mean the client you stole from me. I’ve already discussed that with Barnes, although I’m glad he gave you a job. Glad he gave me the means to track you down.”
Walker stood behind Nick, his mouth compressed into a thin line, but there was no guilt in his expression. He hadn’t told her old boss she was here.
Nick loomed above her, but she refused to feel cowed. “There’s nothing between us. Business or otherwise.”
It was hard to miss the relief that filled his eyes. It crushed the last stubborn speck of hope inside her. Beneath the edge of the table, she smoothed the soft knit material of her maternity shirt. “Have a good drive back to Chicago.”
“You think I drove for five hours so you could blow me off? I’m not going anywhere until we’ve talked.”
Instead of answering, she opened her notebook and began writing down what needed to be done at the construction site that day. Nick was still standing above her. Watching her. She pressed too hard on the pen, and a tiny rip appeared in the thin paper.
“Sierra, do you want Boone to leave?” Walker still stood behind Nick, and even though he was a little shorter, a little leaner than the other man, he gave off a barely suppressed menace that was intimidating. “Do you want me to get rid of him?”
Her face felt as if it were cracking, but she managed a smile. “Thanks, Walker, but we’re fine. I can deal with Nick.” She focused on her client rather than her ex-boss as equal parts anger and pain slashed through her. Why had he come here?
Jen stood up and took Walker’s arm. “We’ll leave you to your business. Keep us updated on the wood situation, Sierra.” She paused. “Yell if you need us,” she added, staring at Sierra until she nodded.
Neither she nor Nick spoke as they listened to two sets of footsteps heading up the stairs. A door closed in the distance.
Sierra picked up the pen again and scribbled in her notebook until Nick put his hand over hers and stilled her fingers. “May I sit down?”
His hand was hot and
brought back memories she wanted to forget. She yanked her arm away from him. “Go ahead, but there’s no point. I have nothing to say to you.”
“I have some things I need to say to you.” He slid into the seat across the table. “I need to apologize.”
She folded her hands on the table and met his gaze. The remorse in his eyes surprised her, and she laid the pen carefully on the table. “For what, specifically?”
“You said there’s nothing between us anymore, and I’m grateful. Relieved. But I still owe you an apology for the way I acted that night.”
He thought she’d had an abortion.
Her throat tightened until she wasn’t sure she could still breathe. She had no idea a few words could hurt so much. “You need to leave.”
“Not until I’ve said what I have to say.” Flags of red stained his cheekbones, and she knew this was hard for him. Nick was too controlled, too careful to make the kinds of mistakes that required detailed apologies.
“Fine. Say it, then go.”
“I acted badly. Said things I regret. Please forgive me.”
She closed her eyes briefly at his empty words, then forced herself to face him. “Do you really think it’s that easy? That ‘I’m sorry’ makes everything right?” Her folded-together fingers pressed into the backs of her hands until they hurt. “What you said and did that night was unforgivable. What you said just now was worse. You won’t find any absolution with me, Nick. But you can leave knowing you tried. I’m sure that will satisfy your conscience.”
He pulled a folded check from the inside pocket of his jacket. “You wouldn’t take this before. But you need it. For your expenses.”
She grabbed the check and tore it to shreds. “Do you think money can fix everything? It can’t fix this. I don’t want your money. I don’t want your apologies. I don’t want anything from you.” She shoved her chair back, pushing the table with enough force that it hit him in the stomach.
He stared at the small swell of her belly, plainly visible beneath the clingy material of her shirt. He paled. “You didn’t…”
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