Men Made in America Mega-Bundle

by Gayle Wilson, Marie Ferrarella, Jennifer Greene, Annette Broadrick, Judith Arnold, Rita Herron, Anne Stuart, Diana Palmer, Elizabeth Bevarly, Patricia Rosemoor, Emilie Richards

  “They were handsome people,” Nathan said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re beautiful, just like your mother.”

  Veronica nodded solemnly. She’d almost forgotten he was there.

  Next she pulled out a small, worn teddy bear and a raggedy green blanket. “These must have been mine when I was little.”

  Nathan laughed softly. “Your security blanket. Looks like you wore it out.”

  Smiling, she stroked the bear and blanket, then laid them down and drew out a long white christening gown. She admired the intricate lace and embroidery design across the front. “It’s beautiful. I wonder if my mom embroidered it. Grandma said she liked to sew.”

  Nathan gave her an encouraging look and she pulled out a rattle, a scrapbook and a journal that had belonged to her grandmother. She opened the scrapbook and saw dozens of pictures of her and her parents. Some were of her as a baby, then a toddler at a birthday party they’d planned for her. A few pages had blank, faded spots as if photos had been removed. Veronica wondered who had taken the pictures out and why.

  “You were chubby when you were little,” Nathan said in a teasing voice.

  “Well, it’s no wonder. Look at that cake,” she said with a smile. “It’s huge.”

  Nathan took out a small bronzed baby shoe and traced his fingers over it. “You had tiny feet though.”

  Veronica laughed, her heart squeezing at the sight of the baby shoe. She’d never really thought about having children of her own, but seeing the precious baby mementos brought a vision of a little boy to mind; a little boy with sandy blond hair and eyes a deep amber.

  She stared at Nathan, surprised at her thoughts, and their gazes locked. A slow smile spread on his face and she wondered if he had ever thought about having children. He was kind and strong and protective, but gentle; he would make a wonderful father.

  But Nathan would leave the minute they solved the case. He was interested in her story, but that didn’t mean he would ever fall in love with her.

  She flipped through the box and noticed a photograph of her parents on their wedding day.

  “She made a beautiful bride,” Nathan said, his voice husky.

  Veronica pictured herself standing in a long white gown with a lacy veil and a handsome man on her arm. Nathan. His breath feathered against her cheek and she realized he’d dropped a kiss into her hair. She leaned against him and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fantasize about belonging to him. His lips pressed gently along the column of her neck and she shivered. He moved his hands to her waist and paused, leaning with his face buried against her hair. For a brief moment she forgot the horrors of her childhood, the trouble that had happened since she’d moved to Oakland. Then he pulled away, and the sweet moment was broken.

  “They had a small wedding,” Nathan commented.

  She studied the other photographs. “That’s odd.”

  “What?”

  “My parents were so close to Eli. I wonder why there aren’t any pictures of him in here.”

  “Hmm. He was senator back then, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “He probably traveled a lot.”

  Veronica closed the book. “You’re right.”

  “What’s the other book?”

  “It’s a journal of my grandmother’s.” Veronica turned several pages, feeling as if she were violating her grandmother’s privacy by reading her personal writings.

  “How did it get in the box with your parent’s things?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. It was dated years ago. It must have gotten mixed in when we moved to Florida. I’ll read it later.”

  “What’s in the second box?” Nathan asked.

  “Looks like a few of my mom’s things.” She opened a decorative flower box containing a corsage. “She wore this on her wedding day.” Next she dragged out an exquisite wedding gown, trimmed in tiny pearl buttons and lace. Veronica’s eyes teared at the sight. Every girl dreamed of marriage and having their mother there. She would never know that as a reality. She touched the slippery satin to her cheek, then quickly wrapped the gown back in its covering before she could become too emotional. When she glanced up, Nathan was watching her with a strange expression in his eyes, a combination of heat and desire and something else: yearning. Veronica smiled and he smiled back, reaching out to wipe a tear from her cheek. Embarrassed, she lowered her head.

  The wedding guest book was next. She skimmed over the names, again surprised Eli wasn’t there. Perhaps their friendship developed after they were married. Oddly enough though, she noticed Eli’s mother’s name, Alma Jones. And Arlene Baits, the doctor who had treated Veronica at the hospital.

  She thought back to how nervous the woman had seemed when she’d discovered Veronica’s identity. Maybe she would go back and talk with her.

  “Hey, this looks like a date book,” Nathan said, sounding suddenly businesslike as he searched the other box. She glanced over his shoulder.

  “It was my father’s.”

  Nathan flipped through the pages. “Do you mind if I take it and look it over?”

  Veronica shook her head and he continued to study the small book. She extracted a gold sealed envelope and opened it. It held her parents’ marriage certificate and her birth certificate. She’d been born on May 7 at Oakland Community Hospital, weighed seven pounds and eight ounces, and had been nineteen inches long. She traced her finger along her parents’ marriage certificate, pausing when she noticed the date of their marriage. Her parents hadn’t been married until December 1. That meant her mother was already pregnant when they got married.

  Swallowing her surprise, she quickly stuffed the certificate back in the envelope before Nathan could see it. She had enough of her past to be ashamed about. She didn’t want him to know that on top of everything else, she’d been conceived out of wedlock.

  When he noticed her quickly stuff the papers away, he motioned to the envelope. “What’s in there?”

  “It’s just my birth certificate,” she said softly.

  He put the date book in his pocket and stood. Other than a pair of bookends and an empty tape recorder, the third box was almost empty.

  “Well, I guess that’s it,” Veronica said, pushing up from the floor. “It doesn’t look like we found anything to help.”

  “I want to get a closer look at the appointments your father had before he died. It might give us a clue.” He patted his pocket where he stuck the book and Veronica followed him to the door. “I suppose I should be going,” he said, pausing.

  She started to speak, but clutched the doorknob, her gaze straying to her bedroom.

  “I’ll clean the lipstick off your mirror before I go,” he said, as if he’d just remembered it.

  Veronica shook her head firmly. “No, I need to do that.”

  His hand covered hers. “Will you be all right?”

  “I may sleep on the couch, but I’ll be fine.”

  He lifted his hand and rubbed her chin with the pad of his thumb. “I’ve got a car watching your apartment again. I’ll make sure he’s in place before I go.” She smiled shyly and nodded, her heart thudding painfully at the concern shadowing his husky voice. “You need to get the locks changed again. And this time, you stay here while they change them.”

  “I will.”

  “And don’t let anyone have an extra key.”

  “I won’t.”

  He gazed into her eyes, then back at the couch, and she desperately wanted to ask him to stay. Instead she clamped her hand over his and squeezed it tenderly. He lowered his mouth and gently brushed his lips across hers. When he raised his face, she saw again the raw yearning in his eyes as they darkened.

  Then remorse or some emotion that looked like uncertainty filled his eyes, and he left, closing the door behind him.

  Veronica leaned against the door, wondering if Nathan realized how close she’d come to begging him to stay. Only he would have been playing bodyguard, and she didn’t want him
to sleep on the couch to protect her. She’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted to feel his arms around her. She wanted him to lie in her bed and bring her to ecstasy with his hands and mouth.

  How could she be falling in love with the man, when he was doing nothing more than offering his comfort and expertise as a detective? She was going to make a fool of herself and drive away the only man who’d ever heard her story and not gone running.

  She glanced outside, saw the blue-and-white car, then locked the door, pushing aside thoughts of Nathan. She stared at the boxes, still shaken by the fact that her mother had been pregnant when she’d married her father. Her grandmother had told her she was premature, but that obviously had been a lie. What else could her grandmother have lied about?

  She walked over and picked up the journal. Still feeling as if she were intruding on her grandmother’s thoughts, she laid it on the end table. After changing into her gown and robe, she settled on the couch with some tea and the book. She took a deep breath and opened it to the first page.

  Skimming the few pages in front, she learned her grandmother had started the journal when her grandfather had taken ill with cancer. Her grandmother had described her feelings while she’d cared for him.

  She found a section describing her grandmother’s reaction to her mother’s pregnancy. She could hear her grandmother’s voice in her writing; it was almost as if she were in the room.

  I pray she will marry the man and not make my grandchild grow up a bastard. Amelia is already growing heavy with the child, and unless they marry soon, the whole town will know. I’ve considered moving away to hide our shame, but Amelia seems to be coming around, and I’ve talked with Amelia’s doctor about keeping her pregnancy a secret. She’s agreed to tell people that the baby was premature.

  Veronica closed her eyes and squeezed back tears. Her grandmother had considered her birth the family’s shame. She remembered the way her grandmother had cried and taken care of her. Had her grandmother loved her? Or had she only taken her in out of pity?

  Curious, she turned a few pages.

  Amelia is to be wed today. I thank God for answering my prayers. I have made her wedding gown to disguise the soft mound of her belly in hopes that no one will notice. Her morning sickness has finally gone and she is starting to talk about the child as if it is already alive. I regret the way my daughter has behaved, but I think she will make a wonderful mother. She is kind and loving and I see the way Robert looks at her, and I know he is a good man who will provide a living for her and the baby.

  Veronica wiped a tear from her eye and read on. Her grandmother had always told her that her mother loved her, but somehow reading it in print made it so much more real. She could imagine her mother pregnant, smiling at the thought of her birth.

  As the day draws near for the baby, I am nervous. Amelia’s doctor has taken ill and I hope the new doctor Baits will keep our secret.

  Veronica paused—Arlene Baits, the woman she’d met in the emergency room. Had she delivered Veronica? Excitement made her turn the pages faster and skim for details.

  May 7—Dr. Baits helped Amelia bring a baby girl into the world today. It will be hard for people to believe she is premature since she is such a nice healthy size, but Dr. Baits has told people Amelia would have had a tenpounder if she’d carried to term. And Robert is such a tall man that I think folks may accept the story.

  The baby is beautiful, with soft dark hair and big brown eyes. She reminds me of Amelia, but I think Robert is a little disappointed that she doesn’t favor him. She may change as she gets older. Babies do, I told him.

  Veronica continued to read, tears slipping down her face as her grandmother described her visits to see her, how much her mother loved her and how proud she was her father’s law practice was doing so well. She skimmed over her early childhood, forcing herself to try and remember the incidents her grandmother described. But nothing seemed familiar.

  Later, the handwriting grew disjointed, as if her grandmother had been upset. She read on and realized her grandmother had written the entries after her parents’ deaths.

  My heart aches with the loss of Amelia and Robert, and to think that they destroyed themselves is more than I can bear. But I must protect my little Veronica, who the doctors say is severely traumatized from witnessing their deaths.

  She lies so still with her eyes so wide, and her skin feels cold and clammy, like she has taken ill. In a way I suppose she has. She has taken an illness in her mind and she may never be right again.

  The doctors talk to her, but she doesn’t respond, and the reporters hover outside the door and window, trying to get in. I want one day to see her run and play and be normal again.

  Veronica’s chest squeezed as she sensed the pain and frustration her grandmother must have felt. She had never felt normal.

  Weeks have passed and my little Veronica has finally come out of the shell she was locked inside. But her memory has gone with her parents’ deaths. Some say it is a terrible thing. I think it is a blessing in disguise.

  Veronica wiped her eyes and lay down on the couch, hugging her grandmother’s journal to her chest. “How could it be a blessing in disguise, Grandmother?” she whispered. Not only could she not remember their deaths, but neither could she remember them when they were alive.

  NATHAN FELT LIKE growling the next morning as he lumbered into the police station. A long night with only his electric blanket, his dog and the hum of his ancient refrigerator to keep him company had destroyed his sleep.

  Hell, who was he kidding? Veronica had destroyed his sleep.

  Or rather, the fact that she wasn’t with him.

  He’d studied her father’s date book and made a note of all the appointments Mr. Miller had the weeks prior to his death. Interestingly enough, Alma Jones, Eli’s mother, had scheduled a meeting with him only two days before he’d died. Had the woman been soliciting campaign contributions for her son or had she some other business in mind?

  He had to remember that Miller was the only attorney in town back then, so most of the people had used him. It was likely half the town had made appointments with him that month. Including Scroggins, the former police chief who had been less than eager to talk about Veronica.

  He slurped his morning coffee and made a list of the phone calls he needed to make. Last night after he’d finished with the book, he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t get Veronica out of his mind. He wanted her. Emotionally stable or not, he wanted her.

  “Got that report on the fingerprints,” Ford said, slapping a file down in front of him. “Only fingerprints in the apartment were hers and yours,” Ford said.

  “Even on the mirror?”

  “Yep.”

  “How about the computer disks?”

  Ford lit up a cigarette. Nathan really felt like growling. He’d come close to driving to the store the night before and buying a pack. He didn’t need this temptation now.

  “We got part of one, but couldn’t match it. Whoever touched them isn’t in the system.”

  “Meaning there could have been someone there, but they didn’t have an arrest record. Or they used gloves.”

  “It’s a long shot,” Ford said, raising his eyebrows in skepticism.

  “Did you find anything on Barrett?”

  “He’s got several offshore accounts. Could be anywhere.”

  “Keep checking. And run a background check on Louise Falk.”

  “Who the hell is she?” Ford snarled.

  “Veronica’s secretary. She’s one of the few people who had access to Veronica’s keys.”

  “And while I’m doing all the legwork, what are you doing?”

  Nathan gritted his teeth. “I’m checking up on her former boyfriend. And digging up the past.”

  “Found the shrink who treated the Miller broad after her parents’ deaths,” Ford said, waving a slip of paper in front of Nathan. Nathan snatched it and read the name. Dr. Sandler.

  “I’ll head over ther
e after I make this phone call.”

  Ford shook his head as if he already knew what the psychiatrist would tell Nathan and ambled over to his own desk. Nathan punched in the number of his friend in Florida.

  “Bill, this is Dawson. What do you have for me?”

  The man on the other end laughed. “Always straight to the point, aren’t you?”

  “It’s important,” Nathan said. Too important. Veronica’s starting to mean too much to me.

  “Well, I found out something interesting on the Miller woman.”

  His stomach knotted at Bill’s tone. Guilt warred within him at checking up on her. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

  “She was seeing a psychiatrist in Florida, but he wouldn’t give me any information. Said her file was confidential.”

  Nathan sighed audibly and clenched the slip of paper in his fist. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but if Ford got wind of it, he’d be certain Veronica was mentally incompetent. “How about Cox?”

  “Cox is pretty boring. I could fall asleep just looking at him.”

  Nathan laughed.

  “Goes to work at six, out to lunch with several suits every day, night he works late, goes to a local gym once or twice a week, eats takeout dinner.”

  “Any women in his life?”

  Bill chuckled. “A couple of uppity attorneys. Certainly not your type.”

  “I didn’t mean that,” Nathan said, realizing his type had never been dark-haired, dark-eyed mysterious women—until now.

  “Naw. Man’s a workaholic. Nothing interesting, including the car he drives.”

  “What kind?”

  “A dark sedan. Tinted windows. Real conservative.”

  Nathan remembered the dark sedan he thought had been following him and Veronica on their way from the restaurant.

  “And he’s been in Florida all week?”

  “Until yesterday. Left on business.”