All the fight went out of her. He was, after all, simply being honest. He didn't want to lead her on. She had to admire that. It wasn't his fault she wanted more than he could give. And it made no sense being angry about something she couldn't change.
"It was just a couple of kisses, Brady," she said with a sigh. "I'm an adult. I'm perfectly able to handle an adult encounter. Don't worry, I won't stake a claim on you. I won't expect you to put down roots and stay here forever just because we exchanged a few kisses. You don't have to run away."
He raised an eyebrow. "Run away?"
Okay, so maybe she was still a little peeved. First, there had been the discussion about his not having a heart, and now this. She was getting tired of being warned away.
"Isn't that what you always do when a person gets too close? You know, I bet that's why you chose the army. You knew you'd never be in one place long enough to put down roots."
His shoulders squared defensively and his chin jutted out. "I chose the army because I wanted to. That's all. I'm not running from anything."
She shrugged and aimed for wide-eyed innocence. "If you say so."
She finished wiping down the table, then hung the washrag over the faucet. As she walked out of the room, she could feel his stare burning a hole through her back. She'd shaken him up. Good. Now he could be as rattled as she was whenever they were together.
* * *
Brady glanced at Haven as they stepped into the elevator that would take them to the lawyers' offices on the tenth floor. She looked coolly beautiful in a slim-fitting navy blue dress. She also looked pale, so pale that for a minute he was afraid she might faint. When he reached out and took her hand in his, it was icy cold.
"You okay?" he asked.
She turned her face to him, and he saw the shadows in her eyes. She summoned up a wan smile. The gesture tugged at the heart he'd told her was nonexistent. She looked tired, lost and uncertain, and he was filled with an overpowering urge to protect her.
"I'm just a little nervous," she said.
If only she didn't turn his world upside down every time they had a discussion. If only her kisses didn't make him feel things he didn't want to feel. If only her touch didn't make him yearn for the impossible—to put down roots; to stay and build the family he'd never had. For the first time since his adoptive father's death, he didn't want to be alone. And it scared him spitless.
Which just proved that the sooner this whole situation was resolved, the better for all of them.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Don't be nervous. I'll be right by your side."
Her grateful smile made his heart slam in his chest. "Thanks."
The elevator doors slid open. Still holding her hand in his, Brady led Haven into a huge foyer boasting a fifteen-foot ceiling and a massive crystal chandelier. Overstated elegance was obviously the order of the day. A plush, pristine white carpet lay beneath their feet; oil paintings of stiff-looking men hung on the walls; small groupings of Chippendale sofas and side chairs were sprinkled around the room. In the center of all this poshness, a lone woman sat guard behind an immense, highly polished desk.
If the reception area was any indication, Brady knew that the offices of the lawyers who had paid for the decor, and which were hidden from view behind the closed mahogany doors inset in the back wall, would be straight out of Architectural Digest.
"Looks like the Zieglars are sparing no expense in their battle to take Anna from you," he murmured into Haven's ear.
"Why do you think I'm so worried?" she whispered back. She looked around her. "How can I compete with this?"
"Don't forget, you have me in your corner. Remember the game Rock, Paper, Scissors?"
She nodded.
"Well, think of this as just another variation. But in this version, blood wins out over high-priced lawyers every time. My blood. And Anna's."
The receptionist directed them to a far corner of the room, where a man rose to his feet as they approached. A giant of a man at least seven feet tall, with a head as bald and shiny as polished brass.
"Hello, Syd," Haven said, taking the giant's hand. "I'd like you to meet my husband, Brady Ross. Brady, this is my lawyer, Syd Spear."
The only outward sign that Haven's words took the man by surprise was a slight narrowing of his eyes. His many years in the courtroom had obviously taught Syd Spear how to disguise his feelings well. When he extended his hand, Brady expected the grip to be punishing. What he received instead was a firm, measuring handclasp. The message was clear: Syd Spear didn't need to use brute force to make his presence felt.
"Husband?" the lawyer asked after Brady had released his hand.
"We were married on Saturday," Haven said.
Syd Spear turned his eagle eyes on Brady. A gaze that was merciless in its appraisal raked him from head to toe. Brady was glad the man was on their side. He was certain the lawyer's eyes missed nothing, from the way he parted his hair to the brand of shoes he wore.
"Is this the man you spoke to me about last week?" Syd asked in a quiet voice.
"Yes," Haven replied.
"Anna's father?"
"Yes. We're waiting for the DNA test results so that he can file for custody."
"And while you were waiting, you decided to pass the time by getting married?"
Haven opened her mouth to reply, but Brady thought it was time he put his two cents in. Syd Spear was their most important test. If they could convince him that their marriage was real, and not one of convenience, the battle, should it come down to one, would be half won.
Putting his arm around her shoulders, Brady pulled Haven to his side and gazed down at her with what he hoped was an expression of pure adoration. He must have succeeded, because her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew round.
"It was the most amazing thing," he said, looking deeply into her eyes. A man could get lost in the magic of those big blue eyes, he thought, and promptly forgot what he was going to say.
"Yes?" Syd prompted.
Clearing his throat, Brady tore his gaze from Haven's. "See how it is?" he addressed the older man. "I just look at her, and my brain goes to mush. Nothing in my life prepared me for the moment I first saw her. You see, we fell in love. At first sight. Isn't that right, honey?"
He squeezed Haven's shoulder hard in warning. "What?" she stammered. "Oh. Oh, yes." She batted her eyes up at him before leaning her head against his shoulder. "It's true. It was love at first sight. We just couldn't wait to be together."
"Well, then," Syd said, "I suppose congratulations are in order."
"Thank you," Brady replied. "I'd appreciate it, though, if you didn't say anything to the Zieglars or their lawyers about my being Anna's father. Once we have proof in hand, there will be plenty of time to confront them with the news."
The lawyer gave him a look that told him he hadn't been born yesterday. "As you wish."
"You may go in now," the receptionist called to them.
"Remember," Syd instructed Haven when they were on the other side of the mahogany doors, "this is just routine. They'll ask you questions pertinent to the complaints outlined in the petition. Answer everything honestly. Whatever you do, don't lose your temper. I'll be there to make sure they don't veer off track."
Haven glanced at Brady, her face pinched with worry.
"For Anna, remember?" he encouraged.
She nodded and squared her shoulders. "For Anna," she repeated, plastering a smile on her face.
Brady felt a spark of admiration. Haven Adams Ross was one gutsy lady.
As he'd expected, they were shown into a conference room that made the reception area look like a poor relation. The walls were covered with intricately carved mahogany paneling; the carpet was pure Persian, and the center of attraction was a gleaming banquet table that could easily seat twenty. Already seated were two men dressed in black suits and conservative ties who were obviously lawyers, and a couple Brady presumed to be the Zieglars. The lawyers rose when Brady, Syd
and Haven entered. The Zieglars remained seated.
His first impression of the pair who had wreaked such havoc in his and Haven's lives was that Douglas and Pamela Zieglar seemed harmless enough. Except for their obviously expensive clothing, they looked like any other couple in their late fifties, But then, his captors, the few times he'd been allowed a glimpse of their faces, had looked like little boys barely old enough to shave. The brutality they'd meted out, however, had been anything but childish.
Yes, Brady knew all too well that looks could definitely be deceiving. And if half of what Haven had told him about the Zieglars was true, these two were piranhas in human clothing.
"Who is this person?" Pamela said with a disdainful nod toward Brady once they were all seated.
Witch, he thought, forcing a smile to his lips. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Brady Ross. I'm Haven's husband."
He hated the pretension of people who used their wealth as a means of obtaining clout. But in this case he deemed it necessary. Since money was the only thing the Zieglars understood and respected, it was important for them to realize at the outset that, in this particular arena, Brady held the upper hand. Which was why he added, "I'm sure you've heard of my late father, Charles Ross?"
"The financier?" Douglas said sharply.
"The very same."
Pamela's eyes narrowed. "Is this true?" she asked Haven.
"Yes," Haven said. "He's Charles Ross's son."
Her eyes snapped with impatience. "I was talking about the two of you. Are you married?"
"As of Saturday," Haven confirmed.
"Sorry you weren't invited," Brady said. "But it was just a small, intimate affair. You see, she swept me off my feet, and I couldn't wait to have her all to myself."
Pamela Zieglar was less than moved by his protestations of love. She glared at Haven malevolently. "Don't think having a rich husband by your side is going to change anything," she snapped, rising to her feet. "Anna belongs with us, and you know it."
Douglas Zieglar shot a warning glance at his wife, and she settled into her chair. "You'll have to excuse Pamela." He addressed Brady in a smooth voice. "She tends to get a trifle emotional where her great-niece is concerned. By the way, congratulations on your marriage. I hope you and Haven will be very happy together. I think, though, a new marriage would get off to a better start without a youngster underfoot. Don't you agree?"
"On the contrary," Brady replied, his voice as smooth as Douglas's. "Anna isn't in the way at all. As a matter of fact, I love her like a daughter."
He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Syd Spear smother a laugh. When he glanced over, he could swear he saw the glimmer of a smile on the giant man's lips.
The Zieglars' emotions were far easier for him to read. If the looks on their faces were any indication, they'd found his words about as palatable as dining at a fast-food restaurant. It gave him immense satisfaction.
Syd Spear laid his briefcase on the table and opened it. "Shall we proceed?"
For the next two hours, Brady sat and listened while Haven answered the questions the Zieglars' lawyers hurled at her like punches. He sat with his hands balled into fists on his lap and his teeth gritted while they tried to twist and turn her words around in an effort to trip her up and make her admit she had been negligent in her care of Anna. He sat filled with a helpless rage that he could do nothing to stop what appeared to his eyes a gross miscarriage of justice.
Disgust left a bitter taste in his mouth. They were little more than bullies, the whole lot of them. Big, overgrown bullies. The fancy, high-powered lawyers might be wearing custom-tailored suits and demand hundreds of dollars an hour in fees, and the Zieglars might envision themselves to be high society, but they were no better than the playground hooligans who used their size and strength to intimidate the small and the weak.
Haven handled herself magnificently. She didn't lose her temper, despite plenty of provocation, and she refused to incriminate herself. Though it wasn't obvious to anyone else, except maybe Syd Spear, Brady could see the effort it cost her. That made him even madder. At the same time, he'd never been prouder of anyone in his life.
By the time the meeting ended, his head throbbed from the strain of being civil and his heart pounded with fear. He now understood the desperation that had driven Haven to beg him to assert his parental rights. He understood it, because he felt it himself.
And he felt it himself because he knew that what had just occurred in this highfalutin law office was a mere prelude to what would come later. In the courtroom, it would be far worse. The Zieglars' lawyers would twist and torture the truth until it was anybody's guess what the outcome would be.
Before, when he'd thought of the threat to Anna, he'd always dismissed it with a shrug. He'd found arrogant security in the knowledge of the type of home Haven provided for his daughter and the fact that the DNA tests would bear out his paternity. The threat had never felt real enough to spend much time anguishing over.
But now he had seen the enemy in action, and they were indeed formidable. He was no longer so cocky. The threat was very much real, and Anna was truly at risk.
This will never go to trial, he told himself. The minute the DNA tests came back, he'd have Syd Spear file the necessary papers that would ensure Anna's welfare permanently.
But what if something did go wrong? What if something unforeseen happened?
The unforeseen had happened in a South American jungle when he'd been taken prisoner. The unforeseen had happened when he'd returned to safety and had received the letter telling him he was a father. The unforeseen had happened when he'd married Haven and had found himself drawn to her.
The unforeseen happened every day.
Whether the unforeseen happened or not, the one thing Brady knew for certain was that he'd move heaven and earth to protect his daughter. There was no way he was going to allow the Zieglars to get their moneygrubbing hands on her. He wasn't without connections himself. Charles's name would open doors that would remain otherwise closed.
Soldier that he was, Brady was ready to dig a trench and fight with any ammo he could get his hands on. If the Zieglars had an Achilles' heel, he'd find it. And he wouldn't hesitate to shoot an arrow straight into it.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
Juggling a bag of groceries in one arm and her briefcase in the other, Haven hooked a finger around the screen door and pulled it open. Anna raced ahead of her into the front hallway.
"Hello," she called as the screen door banged shut behind her. "We're home."
Home. How easily the word tripped off her tongue. How right it sounded. How foolish to think of that word in conjunction with her temporary husband.
Because her home wasn't his home, she reminded herself. For Brady, her house was just another place to rest his slippers for a while, like the many foster homes he'd stayed in over the years. Nothing permanent. His options were open, and he could leave whenever he wanted.
"In the kitchen," Brady called back.
Anna dashed down the hallway. A minute later Haven heard the murmuring of voices. After placing her briefcase at the foot of the stairs, she set the groceries down on the library table to leaf through the pile of mail that Brady had obviously brought in earlier.
Anna came racing back down the hall. "Unca Bwady made dinner," she announced excitedly. "Sketti and meatballs. Can I watch Sesame Stweet?"
Haven was suddenly aware of the delicious aromas of garlic, tomatoes and oregano floating on the air. Her stomach rumbled, a reminder that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.
"Only if you promise to turn the television off the minute it's over," she said.
"I pwomise." The little girl took off at a run for the den.
"Slow down," Haven called after her, "before you break another bone."
"Okay, Binny," Anna dutifully replied, slowing her gait to a fast walk.
Shaking her head in mock exasperation, Haven gathered u
p the grocery bag and headed for the kitchen. Unaccountably, she found herself smiling. It had been a lousy day filled with worries and tension, and all she could do was smile like an idiot at the thought that Brady was in her kitchen, and that he'd made them dinner.
Oh, she didn't actually think he'd cooked the meal. If he was like most of the men she'd dated, he'd probably gone to the nearest Italian restaurant and purchased everything they needed. Still, it was the thought that counted. And any meal she didn't have to prepare was okay with her.
Haven rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth dropped open, and the grocery bag in her arms tilted precariously for a moment before she hastily righted it. Never had she seen such a mess in her life.
Every cupboard door in the room hung open. Pots and bowls covered all available surfaces. A thin layer of flour lay over the pots and bowls and countertops, and even dusted the floor. In one corner, the kittens played with a pile of pot holders.
"What's all this?" she said faintly.
Brady turned from the stove, and she saw that he'd wrapped one of Josephine's aprons around his middle. With the sleeves of his denim shirt rolled up to his elbows and his face liberally streaked with flour, he looked like a cross between the Galloping Gourmet and Brad Pitt. Her heart set up a sturdy pounding at the sight.
"I made dinner."
Out of the corner of one eye, she caught a glimpse of the dining room. Her best linen tablecloth covered the table, which had been set for three with her best china. Beside the china, gleaming brightly in the late-day sunlight, sat the silver flatware that had lain, forgotten and unpolished, for several years in a buffet drawer. In the middle of the table stood a vase of long-stemmed red roses surrounded by a sprig of white baby's breath.
Slowly, feeling dazed, she let her gaze return to the devastation that was formerly her kitchen. "You did this? All by yourself?"
"Don't look so amazed." There was a hint of a smile in his eyes. "I thought you deserved a good meal after the meeting this morning."
"But…" She'd been going to say, "How could one person make such a mess?" before realizing how critical the words would sound.
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