Found: One Secret Baby (6 page)

He refused to let his mind wander there. What more did he need to know about the woman, anyway? She and Lillian would be at legal loggerheads for months, maybe years. The more he stayed out of it, the better it would be for his mental health—and the bottom line of Danby Holding Company.

Unless he decided to join in the legal free-for-all and try to get custody of Joey himself.

He stopped pacing and sat on the couch to mentally count the pros and cons again. He was about to reach for his cell to text himself a list when Rosalie reappeared.

“You still here?” She stood in the entry, hands on hips. “I’d think you’d be half-way back to wherever you usually lurk after you released that purple nightmare on an unsuspecting world.”

He shrugged. “Lillian …”

“Is more an idiot than an evil stepmother. I get it now. The question is, why are you on her side?”

Before he could think better of it, he told her the truth. “I’m all she has. My father died within weeks of Charlie’s arrest. So she’s all the family I have too, I guess.”

Besides, someone needed to protect Joey from Charlie’s father, but raising that specter would only complicate the conversation.

“I will not feel sorry for the woman. Nice try.”

He threw back his head in exasperation and stood up to leave.

“Please take the psychedelic pachyderm with you when you go,” she told him. “I don’t have any place to store it until Joey is old enough not to be afraid of it.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with the damn thing?”

“Maybe you can donate it to some organization that serves older kids who might actually like it. You could throw in an extra million or two to ease the pain.”

His anger faded as quickly as it had come. “What do you have against rich people?”

She sank into the armchair, her body shifted to one side to avoid the broken spring.

“Nothing. I know a lot of them, from my work and from college. Of course, I appreciated the free ride I got for the whole seven years through law school, but maybe being a charity case got to me after a while. Or …”

She raised laser-green eyes to his. He braced himself against the attack he saw coming.

“Or maybe I just don’t like rich people who appear out of nowhere to rearrange the lives of lesser mortals who were perfectly happy with the way things were.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or maybe I just don’t like you.”

He shook his head. That last part was a lie. He’d been there the night at the gallery and, more importantly, later at the deli. The woman found him as much a temptation as he found her, which made the charge of desire she sent buzzing along his nerves that much worse.

If she could lie, so could he. “The feeling is mutual, I assure you.”

He walked toward the door, but she reached up her hand to catch his sleeve as he passed. “Don’t forget your elephant.”

“It was a gift for Joey. From his grandmother.”

“You saw how much he loved it. Get it out of here.”

She was right. He could donate it to some charity. Maybe children a bit older than Joey would enjoy it, although Morgan doubted it. He’d chip in a few thousand to ease the pain, as she’d suggested, and consider himself lucky.

When he picked up the elephant, she went to open the door.

“Goodbye, Mr. Danby.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Walker.”

She didn’t quite slam the door behind him.

He could have sworn he saw her watching him from behind the curtains as he wrestled the elephant back into the SUV. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part. Or maybe she just wanted to be sure both he and the damned purple elephant were good and gone.

After Morgan drove away, Rosalie half sat, half collapsed on the sofa. She had housework to do and Joey would only sleep so long, but she needed to catch her breath.

She made slow circles with her head, then rubbed her temples. Morgan Danby made her head ache. Rather, her schizophrenic reaction to the man made her head ache. One moment she was drooling over him like some lust-struck adolescent. The next moment he was an enemy sent to destroy everything she held dear. She needed to get a clearer view of who, and what, he was.

He’d said his stepmother was all the family he had. How would she feel about someone who stepped in and filled the hole being parentless had left in her life? Even if she couldn’t let herself feel sorry for Charlie’s mother, she could see why Morgan might.

Maybe he wasn’t the enemy. Maybe he was only doing a favor for his stepmother she could have, and probably would have, hired someone else to do if he’d refused. Still, Morgan had to see that his stepmother was not the one who should raise Joey.

Then there was the way Morgan had looked at Joey this afternoon, the way he’d danced with him.

She rubbed her temples again. That hadn’t been about the stepmother. That had been about him bonding with his stepbrother’s child, which made him the enemy after all.

And made him all the more attractive to her.Given the way her hormones hit full force any time she was within ten feet of the man, it was no wonder he gave her a headache. He represented everything she wanted in her life—and everything she feared.

Of course, she might never see Morgan Danby again. Which would be for the best.

Still … she sighed as she pulled herself to her feet, and the California sun shone less brightly.

Rosalie saved the brief she was writing and glanced at the corner of her computer screen. An hour until lunch. It was Friday. Maybe she’d eat with Joey at his day-care center.

She smiled. A month since Morgan Danby’s last visit, three weeks since the results of the DNA test came back and still no sign of any attempt by Charlie’s mother to sue for custody.

Maybe Morgan had talked her out of it. Or maybe the woman had an attack of sanity. Whatever the reasons, each day seemed sunnier.

Rosalie tried to refocus on work, but the low rumble of male voices from the reception area was getting louder and more strident. The male receptionist and a man whose voice she didn’t recognize.

She tensed. Angry ex-husbands were as much a part of any family-law practice as crying wives, but she hated the nasty confrontations ten times more.

Her office door banged open.

The older man who strode into her office was a total stranger, but there was something familiar about the football-player physique clad in an obviously hand-tailored suit and the fringe of silver-red hair that remained around his mostly bald head.

Fear propelled her to her feet and robbed her of both voice and breath before she could formulate a name.

The receptionist appeared behind the newcomer. “I’m sorry. I tried to explain you were busy, but …”

She swallowed and found her voice. “That’s okay.”

The receptionist mimed that he’d be nearby, then left and closed the door.

Her visitor took another step into the room and smiled an oily smile. “Ms. Walker?”

She nodded.

He held out a large, fleshy hand. “I’m Paul Thompson. I’m here about my grandson.”

She could not make herself touch the man’s hand any more than she could have made herself touch the tentacles of a jellyfish.

“I’m not sure I have anything to say to you, Mr. Thompson.”

His smile widened a bit, but his eyes remained chips of pale-blue ice. Charlie’s eyes. She suppressed a shudder.

Mr. Thompson pulled out the chair on the other side of the desk and sat, leaning forward into her personal space. She stepped back and fell as much as sat in her chair.

“You don’t have much choice about speaking to me, Ms. Walker. Or rather, you have two choices. Tell me about my grandson now, or talk to my lawyer under oath in a deposition.”

“What would you like to know?”

He leaned back to pull a smartphone out of his pocket. “Just give me his name, date of birth, place of birth, names of parents on the birth certificate, current residence, legal guardian.”

“I’m touched by the personal nature of your concerns.”

“He’s my grandson. Isn’t that personal enough for you?”

She bit her tongue against a rash of unprofessional responses and rattled off the answers to his questions while he noted them down on his phone.

He grunted when she was done. “I understand you’ve filed for adoption.”

“Yes.”

“Why? A nice-looking woman like you shouldn’t be tied down with a kid without a husband to, you know, take care of you.”

She couldn’t tell if that was a threat or a wildly inappropriate reference to her sex life. Not that it mattered. Her whole body was already rock hard with tension.

“I love him. And it’s what his mother wanted.”

“What about what his father wants? Don’t his wishes count for anything?”

“I’d say that killing Joey’s mother, not to mention a thirty-year sentence, pretty much makes his wishes about the boy’s future irrelevant.”

Red crept up Mr. Thompson’s face. He leaned in closer. “So Charlie overreacted when his woman walked out on him. It happens. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about his son.”

Rosalie swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. “When your son was contacted about child support, he claimed Joey wasn’t his.”

“Maybe he wasn’t sure. But the DNA test …”

“How do you know about that? Did Charlie’s mother tell you?”

Did Morgan?

“That bitch wouldn’t give me the time of day. But I, er, have an arrangement with one of her maids.” He rubbed the fingers of one hand together.

Rosalie was strangely relieved to learn only bribery was involved. She had no doubt this man was capable of much worse.

Mr. Thompson gave a low cackle. “The old broad never did have the sense to keep her mouth shut in front of the servants.”

Even as Rosalie winced at the man’s language, she made a mental note to let Morgan know about the leak in Lillian’s household.

Except, of course, she’d probably never see or talk to Morgan again. She refocused on the problem in front of her.

“The point is that your son has not been exactly a loving parent.”

“The point is that he is the child’s father and his wishes should take precedence over something some dead woman wrote in a will.”

Rosalie absorbed the moral body blow with a silent gasp. Luckily her mother’s sickness had given her lots of practice in surviving emotional ambushes that once might have leveled her. Still, she needed to be on guard. This man was a minefield of psychological assaults.

“It’s for the court to decide what’s in Joey’s best interest.”

“And you think it’s in his best interest to be raised by a single woman with a demanding job and no other financial resources? I don’t want my grandson raised with that kind of unstable home life.”

Anger thundered through her, but she squared her shoulders and merely said, “Again, that’s for the court to decide.”

“Or maybe that’s it. Maybe you think you’ve hit some kind of mother lode with the kid. Well, let me make it perfectly clear. You adopt the kid and you’ll never see a red cent of my money. Lillian’s either. All of hers goes to Charlie, and I’ll make sure he understands that if he gives his kid one penny, he gets nothing from me. Charlie’s a smart man. He knows which side his bread is buttered on.”

Yet he’s not smart enough to know better than to kill people.
Rosalie bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood.

Something dark and no doubt evil crossed Mr. Thompson’s face.

“On the other hand, I could make it very much worth your while to drop the adoption proceedings …”

She shot to her feet. “No! This is not about money, as hard as it may be for you to imagine that.”

He stood more slowly. “I’m not sure I like your attitude.”

Fear crowded the anger out of her mind. She’d seen what Charlie did to Márya.

Mr. Thompson leaned in, hands on her desk. “You don’t want to make me angry with you, Ms. Walker.”

Rosalie dug down deep for the courage to say, “You don’t want to give a judge more reason to decide you shouldn’t have custody of Joey, Mr. Thompson.”

“I never laid a violent hand on my son.”

“Maybe not, but you taught him it was okay to lay violent hands on women. A judge might not consider that the kind of lesson a boy should learn.”

Mr. Thompson fisted his hands on the desk and bent his elbows so he was eye to eye with her. “There’s nothing wrong with teaching a boy how to handle women.”

“Which is why your son is doing thirty years in San Quentin.”

“Damned Charlie never did have any control over his temper. I should never have let Lillian have custody of him. By the time I got him back, he was too old to learn better.”

Rosalie made the mistake of letting herself relax. As soon as she loosened her shoulders, Mr. Thompson’s gaze shot back to her face.

“You will let me have my grandson, Ms. Walker. One way or another.”

“No, I won’t.” She slid her hand over and punched a button on the phone.

Thompson was too focused on intimidating her to notice. When she glared back, his face went red and he slowly lifted his hand.

Rosalie managed not to cringe, but straightened away from him.

The moment froze, suspended in time. Her heart pounded as she stared him down. Was the man smarter than his son?

Apparently he was.

“You’re not worth the trouble,” he muttered and lowered his hand. “I have other ways to get my grandson.”

The door to her office banged open. She looked past Mr. Thompson, expecting the receptionist. Morgan Danby stood there instead, his face twisted with hatred.

Damn. Thompson had beaten him here.

Even flying in on Danby Holdings’ private jet hadn’t made up for the time lost before Thompson’s sister could reach Lillian and warn her Thompson was on his way to L.A. to claim Joey. For the sister’s sake, Morgan hoped the man never learned who’d tipped them off.

Thompson turned to face him. “You?”

Morgan pulled his eyes away from the mixture of relief and confusion on Rosalie’s face to glare at the older man before he loosened the fists clenched at his side. As good as a solid right to Thompson’s face might feel right now, it wouldn’t to help matters.

He ignored the other man to ask Rosalie, “You okay?”

She nodded, face pale. He watched her square her shoulders with new respect.

“I think our conversation is at an end, Mr. Thompson,” she said. “Please leave now.”

Charlie’s father glanced from one of them to the other.

“Don’t think this over.” He jabbed a finger in Morgan’s direction. “And don’t think Danby will save your bacon. All he cares about is money. Just like his old man.”

Thompson strode out of the room. Rosalie skirted both her desk and Morgan to follow the older man into the reception area.

“That is Paul Thompson,” she told the receptionist. “If he ever comes back, call the police.”

Morgan couldn’t see the receptionist’s face, but he heard the anger in his tone, “Gladly.”

Rosalie walked stiff-backed into the office and closed the door.

Now what? Morgan wondered.

The crisis dealt with, reaction set in. Rosalie swallowed the tears of anger and fear that threatened to blind her, then turned to face Morgan, who stood frowning at her from one side of the room.

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

The compassion in his voice was too much. She took a step toward him at the same moment he moved toward her, his arm raised in silent invitation. She crossed the space between them and collapsed against the solid strength of his chest, her body shaking, her breath ragged.

He held her gingerly at first, but when she sniffed instead of bursting into tears, his arms softened around her into a gentle hug. She let her arms slide around his waist, her face relaxed against the softness of his silk shirt.

“He can’t take Joey away from you,” Morgan said gently. “He couldn’t even get custody of Charlie back when courts were much less savvy than they are now about domestic violence. Lillian still has a protection order against him, and so does his second wife. The only reason he’s never been arrested is his family’s money and political pull. No judge in his right mind would hand the kid over to him. Ever.”

She pushed herself away to look up at him. “He told me he got custody of Charlie back.”

Morgan’s face twisted back into a mask of anger again for a moment before he hid it behind the usual bland mask.

“Lillian voluntarily surrendered custody.”

“Why did she do that?”

He took a moment to answer. “My father didn’t want him in the house anymore.”

“Why?” she asked again, but Morgan shook the question away.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She suspected it mattered very much, but was weak enough to let it go for now and sink back against Morgan’s chest. The warmth she felt through his suit jacket and silk shirt, the regular beat of his heart while hers still raced, the steady rise and fall of his breathing calmed her until her own body relaxed, her mind cleared.

Morgan felt Rosalie melt against him. The effort not to respond physically to the softness of her body made his jaw clench, but he needed the few minutes of calm and silence as much as she did to block out the memories that roiled through his gut.

If he closed his eyes, he could see the smirk on Charlie’s face. “Sure, you big baby, you tell Lillian. She’s
my
mother. She’ll believe me, not you.” The same smirk he’d seen on Paul Thompson’s face today.

After a few minutes Rosalie straightened away from his chest, gave a last dainty sniff, and lifted her head. Without meaning to, he smiled at her.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the same lightning bolt that made him smile the moment their eyes met must have hit her too, because she snapped her mouth shut and stared at him, eyes soft with unspoken want. Not a good idea.

He forced himself to release her, carefully, so she didn’t think he was rejecting the offer she probably didn’t know she’d made. But the one-two punch of anger and desire had done its work. The vague plan he’d come up with on the flight to L.A. hardened into a strategy he hoped would be the best solution for all of them.

Despite what he’d told Rosalie, Paul Thompson’s name and wealth carried too much weight in Boston for Morgan to be absolutely sure the man and his young third wife had zero chance of getting custody of Joey—unless a more suitable couple wanted him. He’d have to fill in the details later, but he’d find a way to make the plan work. For Joey’s sake.

Rosalie stepped away and cleared her throat. Time to begin phase one of the plan.

He took a mock-casual glance at his watch.

“Can I buy you lunch?”

She frowned. “I planned to have lunch with Joey at his child care. They encourage parents to visit during the day when they can.”

“You look like you need a drink more than you need to spend an hour in a room full of hungry toddlers.”

“You’d be surprised,” Rosalie replied, not entirely honestly. She might need a drink, but she definitely did not need to spend any more time with Morgan Danby.

Luckily he’d been too absorbed in his own thoughts while he’d held her to notice that whatever opinion her mind might have, her body wanted to do a lot more than have lunch with him. Her nipples stood at full alert behind the handy armor of her jacket, and her head still spun from the rush of blood to other, more vulnerable, parts of her body.

The man might as well wear a flashing red light on his head—he was danger in a hand-tailored suit. Especially this gallant, kind, and generally swoonworthy version of him.

“You look pretty shaken.” His rich baritone made her toes want to curl. “You might want to wait until you’ve calmed down before you see the kid again. No reason to upset him.”

She hadn’t thought of that, but saw no reason to admit it to him.

“I practice family law. I’ve been threatened before.” Although never by someone with a history like Paul Thompson’s. “And I probably will be again. We have an office protocol for when it happens.”

“You sure do. I practically had to fight my way past your receptionist to get in here.”

“Nice to know the system works.”

Morgan gave a rueful grin, then cocked his head to one side.

“Okay, don’t have lunch with me because you need to. Have lunch with me because you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” she lied.

Morgan took a deep breath. Her nerves tingled, but not in a good way. She wasn’t going to like what he said next.

“We need to talk. I hoped lunch would make it easier.”

“Make what easier?”

But she already knew.

“Telling you that Lillian’s about to file for custody of Joey.”

Rosalie went very still. Morgan wished he’d found a gentler way to get her to have lunch with him, but she was far too wary of him. Maybe with good reason.

When she didn’t say anything, he added, “I saw a Italian place down the street.”

She gave herself a little shake. “Carmelo’s.” Her voice had the hollow ring of resignation. “They have great food. Not fancy, but …”

“Not fancy is fine. Let’s go. Maybe we can beat the lunch-hour rush.”

Carmelo’s homey atmosphere was exactly what Morgan needed. Nothing here to raise the barriers Rosalie usually kept between them. Just good, homemade pasta and a mellow glass of drinkable red wine.

He made polite chitchat through the antipasto and offered a second glass of wine, which Rosalie predictably refused. While they waited for their pasta, he could see the wheels in her mind turning. He hoped her train of thought didn’t veer too far from where he wanted it to go.

“I can understand now why helping your stepmother get custody of Joey might have seemed like a good idea, if Paul Thompson was the alternative.” She shuddered and took another sip of her wine. “Is that why she wants him?”

“In part, but at base her reasons are much more selfish.”

He felt the first line of the barriers between them lock back into place.

“Since I never heard from her lawyer,” Rosalie said, “I thought maybe she’d given up. Unless the laws are different in Massachusetts than they are in California, she can’t have much chance of winning.”

“That’s what her regular attorney told her, but she hired a friend’s nephew, fresh out of law school, who squeaked past the bar exam and agreed to take the custody case.”

Rosalie looked away. He heard the clunk as the second line of barriers closed.

“I wish I could say you don’t have to worry about Lillian,” he said, “but I can’t. She’s decided I’m on your side now, and won’t discuss it with me.”

Rosalie’s gaze zeroed back in on his face. “Are you on my side?”

Unwilling to tip his hand, he shook his head. “Consider me a friendly neutral.”

“So why are you here?” She stopped and held up one hand. “Never mind. I can guess. You’re in town on business.”

At least her attitude was back. He’d decided he liked curvy women with attitude.

He leaned in a little closer, pleased she didn’t move away. She smelled of wine and hot peppers and some flowery perfume. He might never have smelled anything sexier.

“Actually, no. I wanted to stop Thompson before he got here. My timing was a bit off.”

“How did you know he was here?”

“Not everyone he trusts is blind or stupid enough to trust him.”

She nodded. “Unfortunately, your stepmother has a similar problem.”

When he frowned, she explained what Thompson had said about Lillian’s soon-to-be-unemployed maid. By the time she finished, the server had appeared with their food.

“Have you decided on a college yet?” Rosalie asked the young woman.

The server grinned. “Got a scholarship to the University of Southern California, like you.”

“Congratulations. You’ll be a lawyer in no time.”

The exchange lightened Rosalie’s mood enough for her make a little “um” sound after she tasted her spaghetti with roasted tomatoes and garlic. Time to pick up where he’d left off.

“Stopping Thompson and telling you what Lillian is up to weren’t the only reasons I’m here.”

“Oh?”

“No.” Morgan paused for added effect. “I’m also here to ask you out.”

She froze. Had he blown it?

He held his breath until she stabbed at her spaghetti with her fork. “Very funny.”

“I’m serious.”

She set the fork down and sighed.

“Do I need to list the reasons why (a) you can’t want to ask me out, (b) I can’t want to go out with you, and (c) it’s a crazy idea in and of itself, no matter what either of us wants?”

He pulled back. “This isn’t a courtroom. I don’t need you to write me a legal brief with bullet points.”

“Call it a reality check, then. And it isn’t so different from a courtroom. You are trying to make a case.”

“There is no try. I
am
making a case. I want to get to know you.” He ticked each point off on his fingers. “You’re attracted to me.”

He paused, but she looked away rather than deny it. A good sign.

“And I already told you I’m a neutral party in your conflict with Lillian.”

The shuttered expression on her face told him it was time to bring out the big guns and let her see one of the real reasons behind his invitation.

“No, not neutral,” he corrected. “Not really, I’m on Joey’s side. Go out with me and prove that puts me on your side, too.”

Normally, he avoided emotional blackmail at all costs. He’d grown up in a hotbed of it. But nothing was normal about this situation. He needed to break through those barriers and Lillian hadn’t given him much time to do it.

Besides, it’d worked. He had Rosalie taking the idea seriously.

Before she could come up with more excuses not to take him up on his offer, he lifted his hand to tuck one finger under her chin and tilt her face up until their eyes met.

“Will you go out on a date with me?”

She gazed at him for a moment before she pulled away. “Who’ll take care of Joey?”

“Who usually watches him when you go out on a date?”

“I don’t date. I’ve never dated much.”