Ready for Marriage? (15 page)

“What happened to Mary Kate wasn’t your fault,” Trent said.

“I know that now.” But it would have been nice to have heard her husband tell her that right after their child was taken from them. Instead, every time he had looked at her in the days and weeks following their baby’s abduction, there had been accusation in his eyes. And when Aunt Mary Belle had come right out and said, “If only you hadn’t stormed off on your own the way you did, this wouldn’t have happened,” Trent had remained silent, hadn’t uttered one word in his wife’s defense.

A heavy silence hung between them. Kate assumed Trent was lost in the past, as she was, reliving painful memories.

Nearly an hour later, Trent broke the silence. “Do you want to stop for an early lunch in Birmingham or would your rather stop somewhere between Birmingham and Tupelo?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “I could wait until we get to Memphis. I ate a big breakfast.”

He wondered how many times Kate missed meals. She looked a little underweight to him, but not as thin and unhealthy as she’d looked the last time he saw her. After their daughter’s kidnapping, Kate had stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped living.

“We’ll stop and get a bite along the way,” he said. “Maybe we’ll run across an old-fashioned burger joint somewhere. Do you still love greasy cheeseburgers with the works?” He remembered how on their first date, she had attacked a huge cheeseburger—with onions—and eaten every bite. She was the first girl he’d dated who wasn’t on a diet. He’d liked that about her—that she had a passion for life.

“Oh, yes, I still love cheeseburgers smothered in onions.” She smiled at him. “Some things don’t change.”

Her thousand-watt smile had always turned him inside out—that sure hadn’t changed. The basic male animal in him wanted to pull the Bentley off to the side of the road, undo their seat belts and drag Kate into his arms. The powerful physical attraction that had overwhelmed them when they first met, when he’d helped a damsel in distress, was still as potent as ever. He wanted her now, as he’d wanted her then; but he didn’t dare act on instinct. He had no rights where Kate was concerned. He’d let her go over ten years ago and now she had a new life and a new love.

Why did that bother him so damn much? It wasn’t as if he was still in love with her. And it wasn’t as if he
didn’t have someone special in his life. But he wasn’t in love with Molly, either. Being in love was highly overrated, wasn’t it? He could have a good life with Molly and he could be a loving and caring stepfather to her children. After all, it wasn’t as if he could turn back the clock and make things right with Kate again.

If you could, would you?
that damn irritating inner voice asked. It was a moot question.

He could no more have Kate back than the infant Mary Kate could be returned to them.

“Kate?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you actually thought all this through?” he asked. “I mean do you know how you’ll deal with whatever we find out, be it good news or bad?”

“I’ll deal with the news—good or bad—the way I have for the past eleven and a half years. If none of the little girls turn out to be Mary Kate, I’ll keep on searching.” She paused briefly. “For the rest of my life.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all these years, searching for our little girl?”

She nodded. “Except for money to pay for life’s necessities, I’ve spent every penny I’ve made searching for Mary Kate. One of the reasons I left the Atlanta police department and joined Dundee’s is because I knew as one of their agents I would get a discount on services and I’d have all their vast resources at my disposal.”

“What if one of these little girls is Mary Kate? What will you do then?”

Crossing her arms at the waist and gripping her elbows, Kate hugged herself as if she’d had a sudden chill. “If we find our daughter, I want to see her. And I want to know all about her life. Who her parents are. If she has brothers and sisters. Is she healthy and happy.”

“And if she is happy and healthy and part of a loving family, then what?”

Kate clenched her jaw and shut her eyes. Trent caught a glimpse of the pain on her face, but looked away quickly, unable to bear seeing her suffer. But this time, whatever the outcome, he intended to stand by her and help her deal with the fallout.

“I’d like to believe I’ll be able to walk away and not disrupt her life,” Kate said. “But I don’t know if I’m that strong.”

“You are,” he told her. “We have to be. Both of us.”

“It’ll have to be enough, won’t it? To see her. Once. And then go away and leave her to her happy life with people she thinks of as her parents.”

“You should have another child,” Trent said. “You were born to be a mother.”

“No other child could ever replace Mary Kate.”

“I know that only too well. I don’t think I ever want to father another child,” he admitted, surprised that he’d actually said the words aloud. He’d never told another living soul that he was afraid to love another child as he had loved Mary Kate, that the fear of losing another child was too great.

Kate turned sideways in her seat and stared at him. “I feel the same way. I can’t bear the thought of ever again going through the hell we went through when we lost Mary Kate. I’m afraid to have another baby, so you see I understand the way you feel, only too well.”

He glanced at her hurriedly, then just as he looked back at the long stretch of Interstate 65 ahead of them, Kate touched his arm. A tender, caressing squeeze that sent shock waves through his entire body.

Oh, God, why had she touched him?

Trent gritted his teeth in an effort to ward off the
emotional demons that plagued him whenever he thought about all that he’d lost. First his daughter. And then his wife. But his wife—his ex-wife—had come back into his life and she was leading him into the unknown, into dangerous waters. It had taken him ten years to put his life back together and to begin thinking about a future with another woman. And damn it all, here he was heading toward Memphis with Kate—the love of his life—on a journey that might well lead them straight to a hell even more horrible than the one they’d barely survived eleven years ago.

K
ate didn’t put up a fuss when Trent drove straight into downtown Memphis to the Peabody Hotel. She could have told him it would have been nice if he’d asked her where she wanted to stay, but what was the point? After all, he hadn’t considered paying for a two-bedroom suite at a prestigious Memphis landmark hotel as anything out of the ordinary. Having been born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, Trent always traveled first class.

“I phoned last night to make reservations,” he’d told her when they came through Germantown on the outskirts of the city. “I booked the two-bedroom suite for a week, with the understanding I might need it longer.”

Kate had nodded and smiled as if she were accustomed to having someone else make her decisions for her. But why should she complain? Staying at the most elegant hotel in town sure beat staying at a fifty-dollar-
a-night motel, which was what she could afford on her budget.

Her bedroom was luxurious, as was her bath. And the large bed looked inviting. The bellman placed her bag on the suitcase rack and returned to the sitting room. She watched as Trent tipped the man. From the smile on the bellman’s face, she figured it was more money than most people gave him.

“Would you like to have supper at
Chez Philippe
or the
Capriccio
Restaurant here at the hotel? Of if you prefer, we can go out to a nearby restaurant.” Trent removed his overcoat and tossed it across a nearby chair in the lounge. “Our other choice is to eat in. I could order room service.”

She debated her possible replies. She really didn’t want to go out, but would eating dinner alone with Trent in their suite be too intimate?

“I’m tired. I’d rather eat in and get to bed early,” she told him. “So, if you’d order for me, anything will do. I’m not particular. Just no regular coffee this late in the day. While you do that, I’ll use my cell phone to contact Special Agent Moran.”

“Steak, pork, chicken or seafood?” Trent called out as he sat down at the desk and picked up the room service menu.

“I’m not really all that hungry,” she told him. “Not after the burgers we ate in Tupelo. A salad would do fine for me.”

Kate shrugged off her coat, then hung it in the closet. She wasn’t exactly a neat-freak, but she had an orderly mind and liked everything in its place. She’d been that way all her life. It had been one of the few things about her that Aunt Mary Belle had approved of during her brief marriage to Trent. Kate removed her scarf and
gloves, placed them on the shelf at the top of the closet, and then kicked off her shoes and lined them side-by-side in the closet floor.

When she walked to the door, she heard Trent on the phone, ordering their dinner. After studying him closely, she closed the door and tried to blot out his image. Now was the time to take control of any lingering sexual feelings she had for her ex-husband. They were going to be together for days, perhaps weeks, and she couldn’t go around mooning over a guy who was practically engaged to another woman. No matter what happened with the search for Mary Kate, there was no future for Trent and her. Her mind understood; her heart didn’t. And she wasn’t even going to think about how her libido reacted every time Trent came near her.

After sitting down on the edge of the bed, she removed her cell phone from her purse and hit the button that instantly dialed Dante Moran’s number. As she waited while the phone rang, she wriggled her sock-covered toes. On the job for Dundee’s she wore slacks all the time and preferred socks to knee-highs. It had been ages since she’s put on a dress. Actually she owned two dresses and one suit. Everything else in her closet was slacks, tops and jackets. She almost wished she had brought along one of her two dresses, just in case she needed it.

She shouldn’t do this to herself—shouldn’t think about pleasing Trent. He’d always preferred her in dresses, telling her numerous times that it was a shame to cover up a great pair of legs.

“Special Agent Moran,” the deep male voice said.

“Yes, Moran, it’s Kate Malone.”

“Are you still in Prospect?”

“No, I’m back in Memphis. Trent came with me. We’re at the Peabody. In a suite. A two-bedroom suite.”

Moran whistled. “Putting on the Ritz, huh? But I guess your ex-hubby can afford it, can’t he?”

“Oh, yes, he can easily afford it.” Kate nervously bounced her knees up and down until she realized what she was doing, then stopped abruptly. “So, what’s the latest? Has there been any word on—”

“We’ve found three sets of other parents who lost infant daughters around the same time Mary Kate was taken. Similar circumstances. All the babies were blond and under six months old. We’ve contacted these people and if everybody makes it to Memphis by eleven o’clock tomorrow, we’ll have a general meeting to go over the situation.”

“Did you say three sets of parents?” she asked. “But…there are only three little girls. That means—”

“It means we’ve got four sets of biological parents and only three children who might belong to them.”

Kate swallowed hard. She didn’t wish heartbreak for anyone else, but she couldn’t help praying that Mary Kate was one of those three little girls. “What do you know about these people?”

“All I can tell you is that out of those three sets, only one couple is still married. They’re eager to find out if one of the little girls is theirs. They have two other children now. One couple is divorced, like you and Trent, and both of them are interested in finding out if one of the children is theirs. And then there’s a father whose wife died three years ago. He’s hoping one child is his.”

“Is the method of positive ID still going to be DNA tests?” Kate asked. Moran had said that although they could match up blood types and infant footprints, the most reliable testing was DNA. Each little girl’s DNA would be compared to the possible birth parents.

“Yeah. And we will speed up that process. Your boss
man, MacNamara, has called in some favors, as has Sam Dundee, to get a rush job for you.”

Thank you, Sawyer MacNamara
, Kate said silently. Although her best friend and fellow Dundee agent, Lucie Evans, absolutely despised the CEO of Dundee’s, Kate had always liked the man. Now she positively loved him. But she wouldn’t tell Lucie. Kate smiled to herself.

Sam Dundee was a man everyone liked and admired. Being a father himself, he no doubt understood how important this was to her. Once this was all over, she’d have to phone both Sawyer and Mr. Dundee to thank them.

“Have the adoptive parents been notified?” she asked.

“That process has already begun. And we’re starting with the older children first, so since Mary Kate would be nearly twelve years old now, she’ll be in the first set.”

Kate’s chest tightened.
Please, dear God, please, let
her be one of these little girls
.

“How soon do you think—?” Kate breathed deeply, then sighed. “How long before we give samples for the DNA tests?”

“Hopefully we’ll take samples tomorrow. And within a couple of days, we should be able to set up a meeting with the adoptive parents.” Moran paused. “We’re asking each of the adoptive parents to bring pictures of their child.”

“You’d think a mother would be able to know her own child from a photograph, wouldn’t you?” Fear and uncertainty welled up inside Kate. What if she looked at those pictures and didn’t recognize Mary Kate? “What if—” her voice cracked. “I may not know my own daughter.”

Tears stung her eyes. Dammit, she didn’t cry. Not anymore. She’d shed all her tears years ago. Or at least she thought she had.

“Look, Kate, don’t do this to yourself,” Moran said. “Once we get the DNA results, you’ll know for sure.”

“Yes, you’re right. Sorry about getting all female and emotional on you. I know how you G-men hate emotion.” She forced a laugh.

“Lady, if anyone is entitled to get a little emotional about this, you are. If I were in your shoes, I’d be emotional.”

Kate really laughed then. “You’re kidding me, right? Dante Moran is a man of steel.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I do have that reputation, don’t I? But truth be told, we’re all emotional when it comes to personal things, even if we don’t outwardly show that emotion.”

“You know what, Special Agent Moran? I think I like you.”

“And you know what, Kate Malone? I know I like you.”

“Friends?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll call you in the morning if the meeting at eleven o’clock is a go.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Kate hit the Off button and laid her phone on the nightstand, then spread out across the bed and tried to relax. If things were different, she just might pursue a personal relationship with Moran. From certain things he’d said, she figured he had some romantic tragedy in his past and that’s why he was still single. Most of the good ones were taken by the time they were thirty-five. And Moran had told her himself that he’d never been married.

Oh, we’d make a fine pair, both of us still halfway in love with other people. Dante with the mystery lady from his past, she with Trent. Yes, she was still partly hung up on Trent. She probably always would be. When you loved someone the way she’d loved Trent, it never completely went away. A part of her would always love him.

A soft knock sounded on the door. She sat straight up in the middle of the bed.

“Yes?”

“Dinner will be here in about thirty-five minutes,” Trent said through the closed door.

“Fine. Thanks. That’ll give me time for a quick nap.”

“I’ll let you know when dinner arrives.”

“Okay.”

“Kate, are you all right? Is something wrong?”

Go away
, she thought.
Yes, something’s wrong. I’m
still hung up on you and there doesn’t seem to be anything
I can do about it
.

“I talked to Moran,” Kate said.

“May I come in?” Trent asked.

Oh, great. Just great. “I…uh…okay, sure.” She scooted to the edge of the bed and was halfway standing when Trent opened the door.

He looked at her. She looked at him. He frowned.

“Have you been crying?” He came toward her slowly, as if uncertain whether he should.

“No. I don’t cry. Not anymore.”

He paused when he was within a couple of feet of her. “What did Moran say to upset you?”

“I’m not upset.”

“Okay, so what is it? Something’s bothering you. I know how you are when—”

“No, Trent, you do not know me,” she practically
screamed at him. “You don’t have the slightest idea who I am. I’m not sure you ever did.”

His shoulders slumped. His frown deepened. “That’s not fair, Kate. You could be right about my not knowing the person you are now, but I did know you once. And you knew me. We knew each other inside out.” He moved closer, reached out and lifted her hand, then placed it over his heart. “There was a time when I thought—” He dropped his hold on her as if her hand had suddenly become red-hot. “Sorry. Old habits die hard, I guess. Being with you brings back a lot of memories. Good memories.”

Don’t look back
, she told herself.
Don’t get sucked
in by all those good memories
. She needed to take charge of this situation. Set a precedent here and now. Their past relationship was off-limits. It was in the past and should stay there.

“Moran will call tomorrow if a meeting he’s trying to set up works out,” Kate said, deliberately changing the subject. “They’ve found three other sets of people who may be the parents of those three little girls. With us that makes four, so one set of parents is going to be disappointed after the DNA tests results come back.”

“You’re afraid we’ll be those parents, aren’t you? That’s what’s wrong.” He gazed at her, kindness and concern in his dark eyes. And true understanding. “You have to know how much I want one of those little girls to be Mary Kate. I want it as much as you do.”

She knew he was telling her the truth. As Mary Kate’s father, he wanted what Kate wanted. But she also knew that he hadn’t dreamed of the day, hoped and prayed for the day, lived for the day that Mary Kate would be found. But she had. Not one single day had passed in the eleven years and nine months since their
child had been stolen from them that Kate hadn’t longed for the moment she would see her daughter again. No, Trent had chosen a different path—he had believed Mary Kate was dead, that she was lost to them forever.

“I’d like to be alone for a while,” she told him, her voice deadly calm. “Please, let me know when dinner is ready.”

With a hurt expression on his face, he turned around and walked out of her bedroom. When he closed the door, Kate rushed into the bathroom, turned on the faucets and gathered water in her hands. After splashing her face with cool water several times, she dried her face and hands, then clenched her teeth together tightly, trying her best not to cry.

Things weren’t going to get any better between Trent and her. Not only did the past stand between them, a painful reminder of how much they had lost, but the sexual tension smoldering just below the surface frightened her. It would be so easy to fall into Trent’s arm, to fall into his bed, in an effort to recapture what they’d once shared. No matter what happened, even if one of those three little girls turned out to be their daughter, Mary Kate would never be her child again. And even if she succumbed to her feelings for Trent, they couldn’t go back. It was too late for them. Too late for all of them.

Trent poured himself another cup of decaf coffee, then relaxed across the table from Kate where they’d shared a delicious meal in the suite’s spacious lounge. They’d also shared some mundane conversation while they dined—Kate on her Caesar salad and he on his salmon fillet.

“I ordered dessert.” With his free hand, Trent lifted the silver lid covering the plate containing a huge choc
olate brownie smothered in whipped cream and pecans. “I hope brownies are still your favorite dessert. Brownies aren’t a specialty of either hotel restaurant, but they aim to please their guests, so they actually sent out to a bakery.”

“My food preferences haven’t changed much,” she admitted. “At lunch you remembered about the cheeseburgers and tonight you went to a great deal of trouble to see that I got my all-time favorite dessert. You’re being very nice to me. And I’m afraid I haven’t been all that nice to you. I’m sorry. It’s just—”