Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (39 page)

She’d meant to use the ride to talk to
him.
Maybe instead she’d drop her bomb as they parted company at the apartments. Good idea. Not exactly primo revenge, but a satisfying poke all the same.

“I can’t wait,” she said.

* * *

“H
AVE
YOU
HEARD
the story about Rod’s kids?” That seemed a good place to start, Jack decided as he adjusted the passenger seat to accommodate his long legs.

Backing out of her parking space, Anya frowned. “I didn’t know he had any.”

Better cut this story short.
They only lived a five-minute drive away. “Two daughters. Or so he thought.”

“What do you mean?” The pucker between her eyebrows was adorable.

Jack took a moment to organize his thoughts. As they left the garage, he noted only a few cars in the circular drive. Traffic dropped off rapidly in the evening because there was no emergency care aside from labor and delivery at Safe Harbor. Five years ago, the former community hospital had been remodeled to specialize in fertility and maternity treatments, along with a range of gynecological and child services. Most recently it had expanded into treating male infertility, too.

On the opposite side of the compound stood a now-empty dental office building. Someday, with luck, the hospital would acquire it for additional office space. Then Jack could treat patients at more convenient hours.

He resumed his tale. “When my aunt Portia demanded a divorce and my uncle sought joint custody, she revealed that she’d cheated on him.” Jack would never forget the heartbreak on Rod’s face as he’d shared that discovery. “Neither of the girls was genetically his.”

“How awful.” She turned the car onto Hospital Way.

“It was a mess.” Jack had been living in Nashville, Tennessee, at the time, completing medical school at Vanderbilt University. However, he’d spent most of his holidays with his aunt and uncle.

Technically Tiffany and Amber were his cousins, but he’d always thought of them as nieces. He’d loved playing with them and watching them grow into toddlers and preschoolers. Then they’d been yanked out of his life, leaving a painful void for him, too.

“Your aunt married the girls’ father?” Anya tapped the brake at a red light on Safe Harbor Boulevard. The broad avenue bisected the town from the freeway to the harbor that gave the community its name.

“He was long gone, but she found someone else, a rich guy unable to have kids of his own who wanted to adopt hers. They pulled one legal maneuver after another to keep the kids from Rod.” Jack still burned at the memory. “Rod was supporting the girls financially, and he went into debt fighting for them in court. If he’d been their genetic father, he’d have stood a chance, but as it was, he lost all rights.” And was living in a small apartment and driving an unreliable car as a result.

“What an ordeal.” When the light changed, Anya transitioned onto the boulevard, passing a darkened veterinary clinic and a flower shop that supplied the hospital gift boutique.

“We haven’t seen the girls for six years. Then, this evening, Rod got a call from my older niece, Tiffany. She ran away from her home in San Diego and asked him to pick her up at the Fullerton train station.” That was about a two-hour journey from San Diego.

Anya swung onto a side street. “How old is she?”

“Twelve.” He only had a few photos of Tiff from years ago, a little girl with Orphan Annie red hair and a big smile. “It’s hard to visualize what she must look like now.”

“Twelve is awfully young. Why’d she run away?”

“No idea.” His phone rang. Plucking it from his pocket, Jack saw his uncle’s name on the screen. “Hey.”

“Change of plans. I’m taking Tiffany to her grandmother’s house.” Rod must be speaking into his wireless device because it was illegal in California to hold a cell phone while driving. “Less risk of legal complications that way. Can you meet us there? You remember where Helen lives?”

“Vaguely.” Portia’s mother had joined the family for holiday celebrations and had once hosted a Fourth of July party at her bungalow. Jack recalled Helen as a kind, quiet woman overshadowed by her forceful daughter.

A girl’s voice piped up in the background. “Is that Uncle Jack? Hi, Uncle Jack!”

“Hi, pumpkin.”

“Hi to you too, squash-kins,” his uncle said drily. “I mean, as long as we’re using vegetables as terms of endearment.”

“Very funny. What’s the address?”

Rod provided it. Jack’s phone showed it to be in the northwest corner of Safe Harbor near the freeway. “Anya, I have another favor to ask.”

“Anya’s driving you home?” His uncle sounded peevish.

“Who’s Anya?” Tiffany piped in. “Can I meet her?”

“End of conversation,” Jack said and clicked off. This was far too confusing, and, besides, he needed to focus on winning Anya’s cooperation. “How about lending me your car after I drop you at home?”

“How far away is this?” she asked.

“Just a few miles.” The alternative was to call a cab, which meant waiting heaven knows how long. In Southern California, where private vehicles outnumbered people, taxi drivers concentrated their efforts on servicing airports and hotels.

And he didn’t have the time to waste. No doubt Helen was already dialing her daughter. Portia and her husband, a private equity investor reported to be worth close to a billion dollars, would take a private plane or helicopter to collect the runaway, which left only a window of an hour or so for Jack to connect with her.

Anya hadn’t spoken again. “I don’t want to lose this chance to see Tiffany.” The ragged emotion in his tone surprised Jack. “It’s important she understands that she’s welcome here and that we love her. I’m afraid that next time,
if
there’s a next time, she might go off on her own.”

The fate of young runaways in metropolitan areas had been the subject of a recent lecture at the hospital. Staff pediatrician Samantha Forrest had presented a horrifying picture of predators trolling for young girls and boys who’d landed on the streets.

Now that he thought about it, he’d seen Anya at the lecture, too. Surely she understood his concern.

She appeared to be mulling the request as they reached their complex—a half-dozen two-story apartment buildings separated by tree-shaded walkways. In the carport area, Anya halted, her expression shadowed in the thin lighting.

“I’d like to meet her,” she said.

“Not a good idea.” This was private family business.

“She might talk more freely to a woman than to a couple of guys,” Anya said.

“Her grandmother’s there.”

“I wouldn’t discuss anything personal or uncomfortable around
my
grandmother,” she replied. “Jack, I remember what my sisters were like at that age. You and your uncle are great guys, and I’m sure her grandmother loves this girl like crazy, but it’s important right now that she be able to open up. What can it hurt to have me there?”

Anya did have a point. And he had to admire her willingness to step into such a delicate situation. Jack glanced at her profile: shapely nose, full mouth, firm chin. He needed her help and, besides, he wanted to spend more time with her. Why not seize the opportunity?

“Thanks. I’ll navigate, okay?” he said and relaxed as he saw her nod.

They were on the same page for once. That was a nice change.

Chapter Three

Spotting Jack’s hybrid sedan in front of a tidy bungalow, Anya knew this must be the place. She wedged her car into a slot at the curb.

What a pretty neighborhood, she thought as they got out. Some of the houses had a fairy-tale air, thanks to their gingerbread trim. Although of a simpler design, the grandmother’s cottage had appealing, old-fashioned shutters and an extended porch lit by a sconce-style lamp.

But as Anya hurried to catch up with Jack’s rapid pace, she noticed spiderwebs festooning the corners of the front windows. Surely the elderly lady would keep those wiped clear if she were physically capable of it.

The door flew open and a young girl’s eager face appeared, her red hair in thick braids. “Uncle Jack!” She threw her arms around him with such enthusiasm that he had to step backward.

“Tiff? I can’t believe that’s you.” After hugging the girl, he took a long look. “You’ve grown into a young lady.”

She smoothed down her navy blazer and tan skirt, evidently a school uniform. “Come in.”

“Somebody’s blocking my path,” he teased.

“Okay, okay.” As Tiffany danced inside, her gaze fell on Anya. “Is this your girlfriend? She’s pretty! And you’re handsome, isn’t he, Anya?”

“Most of the nurses seem to think so,” she replied, slipping into the room behind them.

Inside, Rod’s eyes glittered in the light from the chandelier as he greeted them. Surely those couldn’t be tears. Anya had never seen the sardonic anesthesiologist show so much emotion.

The rectangular room encompassed both living and dining areas and had antique-style furnishings. Dusty curio cabinets displayed a charming collection of china plates and cups, while a built-in counter in the dining area held a nativity scene. As the girl’s grandmother approached, her small, arthritis-curled hands revealed why she hadn’t packed the holiday decorations or removed those outside spiderwebs. Why didn’t her married-to-a-billionaire daughter spring for a housekeeper?

“Anya’s a nurse who works with Rod and me,” Jack explained as he introduced her to the grandmother, Helen Pepper. Slim and silver-haired, Helen wore a mint-green embellished top and pull-on pants that would be easy for those gnarled hands to manage.

“I’m very glad to meet you,” she told Anya earnestly.

Anya took the extended hands gently. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Anya was kind enough to give me a ride,” Jack added. “Since Rod commandeered my car.”

“When I heard my little girl’s voice on the phone, I couldn’t think about anything but rushing to the rescue,” his uncle admitted. “It’s a good thing the CHP didn’t clock my speed on the freeway.”

“I’m sorry I had patients, or I’d have driven you,” Jack said. “Tiff, I want you to know that Rod moved heaven and earth to try to gain custody, or at least visitation. These past few years have been torture.”

Tiffany nodded vigorously. “I was convinced Mom and Vince must have lied to me.”

“Lied about what?” Jack asked.

“Well, I didn’t get it at first. I was only six.” The girl took a deep breath. “They told Amber and me our dad rejected us because we weren’t really his.”

The anguish on Rod’s face tore at Anya’s heart. “They dared to say that after I nearly went bankrupt fighting them in court?”

“That’s not only a lie, it was cruel to the girls,” Jack observed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t speak up sooner,” Helen said. “I always felt like I was walking on eggshells when I visited them. Please, everybody, have a seat.”

She gestured the group into the living room, its walls brightened by colorful framed floral embroideries. She must have loved creating them before arthritis crippled her hands, Anya thought.

“Why did
you
stop visiting, Grandma?” Tiffany nestled beside Rod on the couch. “You hardly come anymore.”

Helen lowered herself gingerly to the sofa. “My hip got so bad, I can’t travel.” To the others, she said, “I don’t mean to complain. Portia hired a limo to bring me for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Big of her,” Rod muttered.

It seemed to Anya that everyone was avoiding the central question of why this child had run away. However, being a not-very-invited guest at a family crisis, she held her tongue.

“How’s your little sister?” Jack beamed at his niece, apparently as overjoyed to see her as she was to see him, Rod and her grandmother. “Amber must be ten now. She was a bold little thing. I’m surprised she didn’t come with you.”

“Don’t give them ideas,” Helen said tartly.

“Oh, she isn’t bold anymore,” Tiff said. “She’s shy.”

“Unlike somebody I know.” Rod quirked the girl a smile. “Sweetheart, as Jack said, I fought for both of you.”

“I figured you must have.” Tiffany lifted her chin proudly. “I kept remembering you reading us bedtime stories and cracking jokes, and the older I got, the weirder it seemed that you stopped caring about us.”

“I always cared!”

“How’d you get his phone number?” Helen asked. “I’m sure your parents don’t keep it around, although I guess kids can find anything on the internet these days.”

“Mom and Vince only let us use computers for schoolwork.” Tiffany made a face. “They won’t let me have a cell phone either. My friend’s big brother dug up Daddy’s phone number.”

Rod tweaked one of Tiffany’s braids. “You should have called before you left home, squirt. Taking the train by yourself, that’s scary.”

“It was fun,” the red-haired girl proclaimed. “And if I’d called, you might have said no.”

Jack regarded her sternly. “Tiff, what if he’d been out of town? Dangerous people hang around train and bus stations watching for runaways. Please don’t take a chance like that again.”

“Then you’d better give me
your
number, too,” she replied, then added mischievously, “just in case.”

“Sure.” Fishing a prescription pad from his pocket, Jack began writing on it. “Honey, call me before you put yourself into a potentially dangerous situation, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Don’t just try.” He also gave her a business card. “That’s my office number. If for any reason you can’t get through on my cell, make sure the receptionist understands it’s an emergency.”

He certainly was acting fatherly, or like an uncle, Anya thought. Another woman in her situation might be thrilled, but to her it raised a whole bramble bush of unwanted possibilities. If he cared this much about his nieces, how might he feel about his own child?

“I hate to bring this up, but I have to call your parents and let them know you’re safe,” Helen said.

“Not yet!” Tiffany begged. “I’ll go home on Sunday, okay?”

“It’s only Thursday, and you’ve already missed a day of school,” her grandmother chided.

With obvious reluctance, Rod backed Helen up. “They’ve probably notified the police. We’ll all be in trouble if we don’t report your whereabouts.”

“They’re mean.” Tiffany slouched down. “If my grades aren’t perfect, they ground me for a whole weekend. They make me play soccer because that was Vince’s sport. I had to drop dance class, which is my favorite.”

“Too many organized activities,” Helen commiserated. “It’s not healthy.”

Anya wondered how Tiffany would have responded to
her
family’s demands. At twelve, Anya had hurried home every day after school with her seven-year-old triplet sisters, assisted her disabled mother, cleaned the house and fixed dinner.

Her older brothers had spent their after-school hours assisting Dad in the feed store. The only escapee had been her older sister, Ruth, who’d married and moved out by then. But she’d soon had kids of her own to care for.

“Children deserve a chance to develop at their own pace,” Rod was telling Tiffany as Anya tuned back in. “But if you were still with me, you’d probably complain about how strict I am, too.”

Anya admired his effort to be fair. He could easily seize on this chance to whip up his daughter’s resentment toward her parents.

“No, I wouldn’t because I’d know you loved me.” The girl’s lips trembled. “When I asked them if I could visit you, Vince said if I ever mentioned you again, he’d send me to a boarding school in Switzerland.”

Rod looped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Honey, I’d hate for that to happen. But after the court ruled in his favor, Vince adopted you. I have no legal rights.”

“He treats Amber and me like he owns us. Like we’re pretty objects for him to show off to his friends.”

We’re still missing something,
Anya thought. The girl was unhappy, but why take action
now?
“Why did you run away today?” she ventured. “Did something happen?”

“Good question,” Jack murmured.

“It’s because of last Sunday.” The girl sniffed. After a deep breath, she resumed. “They make me take piano lessons even though I’m terrible because their friends’ kids play instruments. I had a recital on Sunday and I messed up.”

“What do you mean ‘messed up’?” Helen asked.

Tiffany’s hands clenched. “I forgot part of my piece in front of all those people. It was embarrassing. As soon as it was over, Vince dragged me outside and yelled at me where everybody could hear. He called me stupid and lazy.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Daddy, no matter how hard I practice, I still suck. When I try to memorize music, it falls out of my brain.”

“It’s good to play an instrument, but not if it makes you miserable,” her grandmother noted.

“I was great in dance class!” Tiffany burst out. “And I enjoyed it.”

“That’s why you ran away?” Jack asked.

“I had to see Daddy,” the girl said. “I knew he’d love me for who I am.”

Rod drew her close. No question about it; those were definitely tears brightening his eyes.

Anya understood how it felt to long for the freedom to be oneself. In a sense, she, too, had run off, although she’d waited until she was an adult with a nursing degree.

Rod’s gaze met Helen’s, his frustration obvious. “I wish I had the power to intervene, but legally, I don’t.”

“I should get a choice about who I live with,” Tiffany insisted.

“When you’re older, you might,” her grandmother said.

“How much older?”

“Fourteen, I believe.” Jack recalled that information from the lecture about runaways. “But you’d need your parents’ consent and your own money.”

“That’ll never happen!” Tiffany flared. “And what about Amber? They’re mean to her, too.”

“In what way?” Rod asked sharply.

“Since she’s a good swimmer, Vince took her to this competitive coach. Now he and Vince both yell at her when she doesn’t do well at meets,” her sister said. “She hardly talks to anybody anymore except me. When I told her I was short on money to buy my ticket, she gave me her savings.”

“Amber knew about your plans?” Rod sighed. “They’ll squeeze the truth out of her. They could have me arrested if we don’t report right away that you’re here.”

“We love you guys,” Jack put in. “But nobody’s above the law.”

“If they stick me in boarding school, I’ll run away from there, too.” Fire flashed in Tiffany’s eyes. Anya shuddered at the prospect of the girl wandering alone in some foreign city, an easy target for a predator.

“Please don’t put yourself in danger,” Rod said.

“If I can’t live here, they ought to at least let me visit,” Tiffany responded. “I’m going to tell them that when I get home.”

“Oh, dear.” Helen’s shoulders slumped. “I heard Vince say to your mother...”

“What?” Tiffany demanded.

“That I’m a bad influence because I indulge you girls. And once Vince’s mind is made up, he’s a bulldozer. I’m afraid he’ll cut me off completely.”

Vince was clearly a control freak. He couldn’t stand sharing the girls with anyone.

“My opinion of that man isn’t fit for polite company,” Rod growled.

“I did talk to a lawyer in town,” Helen said. “I could file with the court for visitation rights. But they’d fight it, and you know how much money Vince has. He’d bankrupt me before he’d give in.”

Unless they found a solution, Tiffany faced a difficult and possibly disastrous adolescence, Anya thought. Although it wasn’t her place to interfere, she did have an idea. “May I make a suggestion?”

Mixed expressions greeted this remark. Rod spoke first. “I appreciate your concern, Anya, but you’re not familiar with any of the people involved.”

“She was a teenage girl herself not long ago. Let’s hear what she has to say.” Jack’s encouragement finally drew a nod from his uncle.

Anya addressed the girl. “They won’t let you visit your dad, but your grandmother isn’t getting any younger. You and your sister are old enough to spend a week or two with her during vacations. And then you can discreetly visit your dad.”

“Vince won’t let us do anything that isn’t his idea,” Tiffany replied bitterly.

“Surely your mom has some influence. Play the guilt card,” Anya persisted. “Grandmothers are precious, and I’m sure she could use two helpers for spring cleaning. It would give your parents a break, too, during vacation.”

“They already get a break. They stick us in camps, like music camp and swim camp and soccer camp.” Despite the objection, a note of hope brightened the girl’s voice.

“I would love to have them here. They’re growing up so fast.” Helen gazed fondly at her granddaughter. “And it would be wonderful to do some spring cleaning together.”

“I’d like that. Amber would, too,” Tiffany replied. “Could we visit Daddy and Uncle Jack while we’re here?”

“Not officially,” Rod told her. “If your parents get wind that I’m involved, they’ll forbid you to come. They might even file a restraining order against me.”

Jack leaned forward. “I’ll bet we could arrange something if we’re careful, though.”

That was exactly what Anya had had in mind. She wondered if she should speak again or let the others carry the ball from here.

Helen clasped her hands in her lap. “But if Portia and that husband of hers found out I let you spend time with the girls, they’ll cut off all contact with me.”

“I suppose that’s a risk,” Jack conceded.

Anya cleared her throat. Everyone turned to her, with varying degrees of curiosity and skepticism.

“As I said, you have to be discreet,” she ventured. “But, Helen, surely you have friends who could take the girls on outings. It wouldn’t be your fault if they happen to run into their dad.”