by Day Leclaire
The next hour passed in a rush as everyone pitched in to gather up the puppies and return them to the room in which they remained penned whenever they couldn’t be watched. After dressing, he, Annalise and Isabella shared their ritual family breakfast before he headed off to the office. If a hint of stiltedness existed between husband and wife, it couldn’t be helped. Whatever the cause, tonight would correct the situation. The instant they finished eating, his niece gave him a farewell kiss then made a beeline for the stairs leading to the bedrooms…and the dogs.
Jack turned to Annalise and held her gaze, forcing himself to use a hint of the ferocity that had helped him turn a small, startup import/export business into a multi-billion-dollar international success story. He aimed it straight in the direction of a lanky, golden-eyed ex-nanny with intoxicating kisses and a heart even larger than his bank account.
“Tonight,” he reminded his wife. “Cards on the table.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.
She gave a steadfast nod. “I told you we would. But, Jack—” Her voice held an unmistakable warning. “You might not like the hand I deal you.”
The doorbell sounded in the distance and his mouth twisted. “I may surprise you.”
He dropped a swift kiss on his wife’s mouth before going to answer the imperious summons. He opened the door, less than pleased to discover the Wicked Witch of all four compass points, plus several in between standing on his welcome mat. Or in her case, his unwelcome mat.
“Mrs. Locke.”
“Mr. Mason.”
He planted himself between her and his home and eyed the birdlike woman. He’d learned during their first meeting just how deceptive appearances could be. She barely reached the middle of his chest and appeared fragile enough for an errant breeze to snap in two. But that was as much a lie as the cheerful, robin’s-egg-blue eyes that blinked sweetly from behind the lenses of her rimless spectacles. She offered a wide, guileless smile that didn’t fool him for one little minute. She was a witch cloaked in the plumage of an innocent sparrow.
The two squared off against each other and Jack launched the first volley. “Did we have an appointment you forgot to arrange?” he asked mildly.
She looked entirely too pleased with herself which put him on instant alert. “It’s called an unannounced home inspection.”
“That’s funny. According to my lawyer, you were supposed to call and arrange a convenient time for a visit.”
“That would have defeated the entire point of the ‘unannounced’ portion of the inspection.” She folded her twig arms across her nonexistent bosom. “Are you going to let me in, or are you going to continue looming there in that threatening manner?”
He narrowed his eyes at her phrasing. She narrowed hers right back at him. He wasn’t sure how the stalemate might have ended if it hadn’t been for Isabella charging toward him with a shriek. Her fingers fluttered in a gesture she used to alert them to a problem with the puppies. Then she yanked on his suit coat.
He turned to Mrs. Locke. “You’ll have to leave. We have an emergency on our hands. That takes precedence over everything else.”
She stiffened and yanked out a cell phone from the purse tucked beneath her arm with impressive speed. “Shall I call 9-1-1?” she asked crisply.
“That won’t be necessary. It’s a—” he hesitated “—dog emergency.”
Mrs. Locke’s brows climbed skyward. “A dog emergency is not an emergency I recognize,” she informed him in a wintry tone. “The inspection will continue.”
Isabella yanked harder at his suit coat and he rested his hand on her head in gentle reassurance. Damn it to hell. Why now, of all days? He regarded Mrs. Locke with a sour expression and gave her two options. “In that case, you may wait here until I’m available, or grace us with your presence at a more convenient time.”
“I’ll stay,” she stated in tones as implacable as his own.
“Jack? Red alert. The puppies are on the loose.” Annalise charged into the hallway and skidded to a halt. “Oh, we have guests.”
Jack grimaced. This grew more complicated by the minute. He’d wanted time to prep Annalise before the two women met. “Mrs. Locke is not a guest. She’s here for an inspection.”
“Mrs. Locke?” To his disgust a broad, welcoming smile swept across his wife’s face. “Isabella’s Mrs. Locke?”
The caseworker inclined her head. “And I assume you’re Mrs. Mason?”
“Oh, please. Call me Annalise.” She held out her hand. “I’m afraid we have a bit of a family emergency going on here.”
“So, I understand. Something to do with dogs?”
Isabella made a frantic noise and Jack interrupted. “Which we need to take care of immediately. Annalise, ask Sara and Brett to scour the first floor. I’ll take the bedrooms. You and Isabella see if anyone’s found their way to the third level. Since this isn’t a scheduled appointment, Mrs. Locke can return at a more convenient time.”
His beautiful, sexy, loyal wife fluttered her lashes at him and turned traitor in the blink of an eye. “I’ll give Sara and Brett the heads-up while you and Isabella check the bedrooms. Mrs. Locke and I will be having some iced tea out on the patio. Once everyone’s rounded up, you can join us there.”
“Excellent suggestion,” Mrs. Locked concurred. “I wanted some private time with your wife, anyway.”
“I—You—”
Annalise smiled in satisfaction. “It’s a plan. I’ll call your office and warn them you’re running behind.” She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and hit a preprogrammed button. “Mary, it’s Annalise. Jack’s going to be late again. What? Oh, yes, of course. The pups on their usual rampage. Expect him when you see him.”
Isabella didn’t give him an opportunity to argue further. Grabbing his hand, she literally towed him in the direction of the steps. The last view he had of his double-crossing wife was her saucy backside vanishing in the direction of the kitchen, accompanied by the smirking Wicked Witch, her broomstick slung over one shoulder.
This was not good. Not good at all. He’d planned to be there the first time Annalise and Locke spoke, to run interference in case they hit any snags. Based on the smug look the caseworker shot him, she’d known it and took great delight in outmaneuvering him. Not that she’d actually been the one to make mincemeat of his plan. He could lay that delightful screwup squarely on his wife.
It took thirty nerve-racking minutes to round up five of the mischievous puppies and return them to the gated bedroom that was their “nest.” Isabella remained with them while he went in search of the last one, the runt of the litter. He found Mister Mayhem, as he’d begun to refer to the dog, on the verge of sneaking out the kitchen door. He scooped up the wriggling bundle of energy before the pup could make good his escape.
From the direction of the patio, he caught the distinctive sound of feminine laughter. He stood there, literally frozen in disbelief. That couldn’t possibly be Mrs. Locke laughing. Not the witch herself. He had no idea how Annalise managed to charm the woman, but he could only thank God it had happened. Then he immediately shook his head.
He did know how his wife had pulled it off. He’d watched her do it with him and Isabella, and every other person she met. She had a knack about her, a natural charm. No, even that wasn’t quite right. She welcomed people in. Even though she’d been hurt, she hadn’t allowed past events to close her down the way he had. She continued to open herself to others, despite the fact that she might get hurt again. The vulnerability remained, reflected in those magnificent eyes of hers. But she gave of herself, anyway.
The laughter had faded and he heard Mrs. Locke say, “So, tell me the truth, Annalise. Why did you marry your husband?”
Jack didn’t think he could have moved if Doomsday itself were unfolding at his feet. Everything within him strained to hear the answer. But when it came, it was spoken so softly he couldn’t catch the words he longed to hear.
He erupted from the kitchen onto the patio, the pup
still cradled in his hands. He didn’t know what he’d hoped, perhaps to discover Annalise’s response still lingering on the summer breeze. Maybe to read it in her expression or glittering like gold dust in her eyes. Instead, her head swiveled in his direction and she simply smiled. Just that. A smile that made his heart stand still and left him more helpless and out of control than he’d ever been in his entire life.
“I assume that’s the last straggler? Mayhem?” she asked. “Isn’t that what you’ve dubbed him?”
“Mister Mayhem,” he muttered.
“Would you like a glass of sweetened tea?”
The prosaic question ripped him to shreds. It took every ounce of willpower to hold himself in check, when what he wanted more than anything was to tip Locke out of his patio chair and chuck her onto the street so that he could demand his wife repeat to him whatever she’d told the caseworker. He wanted—needed—to hear why she’d married him. To know once and for all whether she’d done it just for Isabella or if maybe, just maybe, she’d believed those vows she’d spoken right here in his backyard.
To love, honor and cherish…
Annalise tilted her head to one side and a wealth of curls tumbled across her shoulder. “Tea?” she prompted again in open amusement.
“Thanks, I’d love some.” He crossed to her side and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
He took a seat with Mayhem in his lap and tipped the dog onto his back. He rubbed the puppy’s plump belly with his index finger. With a wide yawn, Mayhem promptly went to sleep, his head, tail and legs splayed in six different directions.
He glared across the table at Mrs. Locke. “Have you finished interrogating my wife?” he asked.
He knew he sounded defensive, just as he had with his father. But this time he had cause. He had it figured out now. This woman wasn’t his niece’s nanny any more than she was his employee. Annalise was his wife, a woman who’d given herself to him in marriage. Given herself in every way possible. And he’d do everything within his power to protect her, to fulfill those vows he’d taken mere steps from where they sat.
“I just put away my thumbscrews,” she replied in a dry voice. “And now I have one final question before I go visit with Isabella.”
He regarded her warily. “Only one?”
“Just one.” She leaned forward and set her glass of tea onto the patio table. “I know why Annalise married you. But I’d like you to explain why you married your wife. Is this a love match or is this your clever way of circumventing CPS’s objections to your guardianship? Is Annalise here to stay, or here until we go away?”
And there it was, Jack acknowledged. The billion-dollar question.
Before he could reply, Sara stepped onto the patio. “Excuse me, Mr. Mason. There’s a gentleman here to see you. He was most insistent—”
Not waiting for either permission or invitation, a tall, lean man in his late thirties, maybe early forties, strode out onto the patio. He carried himself with a military bearing. His curly brown hair was cropped short. A faded cap shaded his deep-set eyes and cast a shadow across his sun-bronzed face. Though he didn’t share Annalise’s coloring and appeared far too young to have a daughter his wife’s age, there was little doubt in Jack’s mind that this had to be her father—and his timing couldn’t have been worse.
“I’m Robert Stefano,” he announced. “And I’m looking for…” He froze, his eyes arrowing in on Annalise. “Leese?”
“Daddy?” Annalise erupted from her chair and threw herself into the man’s arms. “Finally! I have been trying to reach you for ages.”
He gave his daughter a fierce hug. “Didn’t you get my message?”
“About your charter? Yes, yes. Bub passed it on. But—”
He held her at arm’s length. “I came as soon as I heard the news. Of course, by the time it reached me, it was long out of date. What the hell have you gone and done?”
He looked over her shoulder toward Jack, who climbed to his feet and set the yawning puppy on the ground beside him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stefano,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Jack Mason.”
To Jack’s dismay, his father-in-law swept his daughter behind him in a protective manner. “Not him, Leese. Tell me there’s been a mistake and you haven’t actually married this man.”
“Is there a problem?” Mrs. Locke interrupted.
“No problem at all,” Jack replied smoothly. His hand dropped to his side. “You need to leave. Now. This is a family matter and none of your business.”
Of course, she didn’t listen. She settled more firmly into her chair. “If this affects Isabella, it most certainly is my business.”
“Mr. Stefano?” Jack approached the other man. “I’m Annalise’s husband.”
“I know who you are.” Robert tore off his cap and crushed it between his callused hands. “What I don’t yet know is what sort of game you’re playing with my daughter.”
Annalise stepped out from behind her father, confronting the situation head-on, just as she had from the moment he’d first met her. “Dad, this isn’t a game.”
“You’re damn right it isn’t.” Grief tore into the older man’s face. “Does he know? Does this supposed husband of yours know the truth?”
To Jack’s surprise she faltered, her forthrightness stumbling. “No,” she admitted. “He doesn’t.”
Dread swept through him like the first winter breeze. “Somebody tell me what the hell is going on,” Jack demanded.
“And then you can explain it to me,” Mrs. Locke added.
Robert opened his mouth to reply, but before he could his gaze shifted and locked onto something in the middle of the lawn. Mister Mayhem scampered in that direction and Jack saw why. Isabella had exited into the yard through his study door. She greeted the dog with a crowing laugh.
“Oh, God,” Robert whispered. His cap dropped to the patio flagstones. “Is that her?”
He took a step in Isabella’s direction, a step that carried him into the sunlight. The strong summer rays caught in the short brown curls, highlighting them with gold. He stared at Isabella, stared at her with eyes the exact same shade of olive green as those of Jack’s niece. Robert clenched his squared jaw, but couldn’t seem to keep it from wobbling. And then he broke into a broad grin of incandescent delight. In his cheek a dimple flashed.
Without a word, Jack turned toward Annalise. Tears rained down her cheeks. She caught his look, holding his eyes for an endless moment, hers assuming a defiant slant. He went to her, stepped with her into the shadows of the patio overhang, away from listening ears.
“Isabella looks just like your dad. Is she your sister?” Jack questioned in a hard undertone. “Is Robert Stefano her father?”
“I’m an only child,” Annalise stated.
An arctic wind blew through him and he could literally see the life he’d built shattering around him. “Then she’s—”
“Mine.” Annalise squared her shoulders and lifted tarnished eyes to his. “Isabella is my daughter.”
Ten
“It was all a setup, wasn’t it?”
“No.” Annalise shook her head, speaking with a quiet dignity that cut deep. “No!”
Jack stepped away from her, unable to hide his raw pain and anger. There was no way he could. His fury battered him with all the elemental power of a hurricane, driving emotions he’d always been able to keep under rigid control. They whipped free, exploded from him in a messy, illogical, unmanageable torrent.
“I have to hand it to you. Your plan was absolutely brilliant.”
“What plan?” She played the role of the innocent with breathtaking perfection, reflecting just the appropriate amount of bewilderment. “All I ever wanted was to make certain Isabella was safe.”
“Safe,” he repeated. “I didn’t realize my reputation was quite that bad.”
She dared to fight back. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
>
He ignored that and continued the attack with ruthless precision. “Why did you apply to be Isabella’s nanny? You knew she was yours then, didn’t you?” He didn’t phrase it as a question.
She lifted her chin, refusing to cower. “Yes.”
“What then, Annalise? Were you going to use your position to manipulate CPS? To push them that final inch in order to convince them I wasn’t an appropriate guardian?”
“Have you lost your mind?” she asked with impressive calm.
He simply shook his head, amazed by her inner fortitude. “I have to hand it to you. Your logic was flawless. As Isabella’s nanny you could inveigle yourself into my niece’s affections. Maybe drop a word or two of concern in Mrs. Locke’s ear.”
A spark of anger appeared, at war with her self-control. She folded her arms across her chest. “And then what, Jack? Have Isabella’s life upended again when they put her into foster care? Or even worse, stick her into a treatment program?”
He lifted a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “Once she was out of my control you’d have a better shot at getting custody of her.”
Fury blossomed, full-throttled and magnificent. “That’s what you think this is all about? You think I want to take her away from you?”
His anger rose to meet hers. “What am I supposed to think? In all this time, never once did you bother to say, ‘Oh, hey, Jack, just so you know, Isabella’s my biological daughter.’” He stalked closer. “Did you think I’d never find out?”
“I was going to tell you!”
“Right. Now that we’re safely married and you’re in an even better position to fight for legal custody.”
She went nose to nose with him. “Is that your real opinion of me? After all this time together, you don’t know me better than that?”
