A Wolff at Heart
Janice Maynard
Realising his entire life is a lie, Pierce Avery hires Nicola Parrish to find answers. Learning he has a family he never knew is mind-blowing; discovering the desirable woman behind his new lawyer’s professional façade puts him over the edge.But could his growing passion be blinding him to Nicola’s real motives?
Just when you thought you knew all The Men of Wolff Mountain, USA TODAY bestselling author Janice Maynard has a surprise!
Realizing his entire life is a lie, Pierce Avery hires Nicola Parrish to find answers. Learning his father is not his biological parent is mind-blowing; discovering the desirable woman behind his new lawyer’s professional facade puts him over the edge. But his growing passion for Nicola could be blinding him to her motives for getting him to embrace the truth of his past. His heart may be ready for more, but can he really trust her?
The selfish part of him wanted to pursue this attraction he felt for her.
She was smart and driven and damned sexy. His gut told him they would be good together.
Pierce wanted to go upstairs and hover. But suddenly it was important to make her believe that he was in control. That he wasn’t an emotional mess. He didn’t need her pity. Though, in truth, he was pretty sure she knew how close to the edge he was. He’d tried getting up each morning and pretending his life was normal, but that was a huge lie.
Distracting himself by flirting with Nikki might work for a moment. And contemplating the escape of sexual oblivion was tempting. But she deserved better, and until he could make sense of his screwed-up life, he’d do the honorable thing and leave her alone.
Dear Reader,
My husband and I have spent many happy hours in the Blue Ridge, whether hiking or touring by car or photographing the panoramic beauty of these old mountains.
As I wrap up the saga of the Wolff family, I feel a pang of regret in leaving behind Wolff Castle, all of the Wolff clan and the timeless beauty of some of the world’s oldest peaks.
After a Christmas book this December and a Texas Cattleman’s Club book in January 2014, I will begin a new series called the Kavanaughs of Silver Glen. I am already getting excited about the heroes and heroines to come, and I hope you will join me in this new adventure.
Remember to visit my website at www.janicemaynard.com (http://www.janicemaynard.com) and also to join me at www.facebook.com/JaniceMaynardReaderPage (http://www.facebook.com/JaniceMaynardReaderPage). As always, you can email me at JESM13@aol.com. And I truly appreciate reader reviews on Amazon.
Happy Reading,
Janice Maynard
A Wolff at Heart
Janice Maynard
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JANICE MAYNARD came to writing early in life. When her short story The Princess and the Robbers won a red ribbon in her third-grade school arts fair, Janice was hooked. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary teacher to pursue writing full-time. Her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance. She is so very happy to be part of the Mills & Boon
family—a lifelong dream, by the way!
Janice and her husband live in beautiful east Tennessee in the shadow of the Great Smoky Mountains. She loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books.
Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com, or email her at JESM13@aol.com. And of course, don’t forget Facebook and Twitter. Visit all the men of Wolff Mountain at www.wolffmountain.com.
For little Levi, the newest member of our clan…
We will always surround you with love.
Contents
Chapter One (#ubdd3a0ca-cff1-5f0f-b110-aeab78ce1865)
Chapter Two (#u744408b9-2a6e-5942-b4f0-8a566b9fefc5)
Chapter Three (#ue318dfc4-ea57-582a-9eee-8baf5a984221)
Chapter Four (#u84ab5329-356e-53ff-945b-3ce14b65ae33)
Chapter Five (#u42fa4c2c-fa9e-5bc2-9d64-abf0bfdf69d9)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Pierce Avery was having a very bad day. Such a bad day, in fact, that all other bad days in his life up until this very moment seemed positively benign in comparison. Stress churned in his stomach and tightened bands of steel around his head. His hands were clammy. He probably shouldn’t even be driving, given his current state of mind.
Ordinarily, his first instinct during such a crisis would be to hit the river in his kayak. On a hot August afternoon, there was nothing like catching a face full of spray to court, paradoxically, both exhilaration and peace. He’d known since he was a preteen that he wasn’t cut out for desk work. Mother Nature called him, seduced him, claimed him.
As a young man, his only option had been to find a career where he could act like a daredevil kid and get paid for it. Such occupations were few and far between, so he’d had to invent his own company. Now he spent his days leading groups of college kids, fish-out-of-water high-level executives or I’m-not-dead-yet senior citizens in exploring the great outdoors.
Biking, hiking, rappelling, caving and his favorite—kayaking. He loved his job. He loved life. But today, the very foundations of who he was had crumbled beneath him like loose soil in a rainstorm.
He parallel parked on a quiet street in downtown Charlottesville. School hadn’t begun yet at the University of Virginia, so the sidewalk cafés were only sporadically populated. Pierce’s alma mater had shaped him despite his best efforts to rebel. He’d graduated with honors and a master’s degree in business administration, but only because his father had pushed and prodded and insisted that Pierce live up to his potential.
Pierce owed his father everything. Now, years later, his father needed him. And Pierce couldn’t help.
Locking the car with shaking hands, he stared at the unobtrusive office doorway in front of him. A pot of cheerful geraniums tucked against the brick building soaked up the sun. An engraved brass placard flanked a modern doorbell. The only odd note was a tiny For Rent sign propped on the inside of the window, backed by antique lace sheers. Anyone or anything could have been inside. A doctor, a CPA, an acupuncturist. Maybe even a massage therapist.
Charlottesville’s thriving downtown community was rich with arts and crafts as well as more conventional businesses. One of Pierce’s ex-girlfriends had a pottery studio just down the street. But today, none of that was on his radar. He barely even noticed the rich aroma of freshly baked bread from the shop next door.
Pierce had an appointment with Nicola Parrish. He rang the doorbell, knocked briefly and stepped across the threshold. In contrast to the blinding sunlight outside, the reception area was cool, dim and fragrant with the herbal scent of more potted plants in the bay window. An older woman looked up from her computer and smiled. “Mr. Avery?”
Pierce nodded jerkily. He was twenty minutes early, but he’d been unable to make himself stay at home another second.
The receptionist smiled. “Have a seat. Ms. Parrish will be with you shortly.”
It was exactly two minutes before his stated appointment time when the summons came. His handler nodded with another gentle smile. “She’s ready for you. Go on in.”
Pierce didn’t know what to expect. His mother had set up this appointment. Pierce didn’t want it. In fact, he’d give almost anything to walk out and never look back. But the memory of his mom’s anguished eyes kept his feet moving forward.
The woman he had come to see stood, her hand extended. “Good afternoon, Mr. Avery. I’m Nicola Parrish. Pleased to meet you.”
He shook her hand, noting the firm grip, the slender fingers, the soft skin. “Thank you for fitting me in so quickly.”
“Your mother said it was urgent.”
Unexpected grief constricted his throat. “It is. And it’s not. In fact, I don’t really know why I’m here. Or what you can do...”
She waved an arm. “Have a seat. We’ll sort things out.”
Her ash-blond hair was cut in a chin-length bob. Though it swung as she moved her head, he could swear that not a single strand dared to dance out of place. She was slender, but not skinny, tall, but still a few inches shy of his height.
He scanned the wall behind her head. Harvard Law. A second degree in forensic science. Various awards and accolades. Combined with the fashionable black suit she wore, he got the message. This woman was smart, dedicated and professional. Whether or not she was good at ferreting out information and answers remained to be seen.
Suddenly, she stood. “Perhaps we might be more comfortable over here.” Not waiting to see if he would follow, she stepped from behind her desk and moved to a small sitting area. Now he could see that her legs were her best asset. They were the kind of legs that made teenage boys and grown men believe in a benevolent creator.
He sat down in an armchair that was more comfortable than it looked. The lawyer picked up a silver pot. “Coffee?”
“Please. Black. No sugar.”
She poured his drink and handed it to him, their fingers brushing momentarily. Neither of her hands boasted a ring of any kind. Pierce drank half the cup in one gulp, wincing when his tongue protested the temperature of the liquid. A shot of whiskey might have been more in order.
The lawyer’s eyes were kind, but watchful. She waited for him to speak, and when he didn’t, she sighed. “The clock is ticking, Mr. Avery. I only have forty-five minutes today.”
Pierce leaned forward, his head in his hands. “I don’t know where to start.” He felt defeated, helpless. Those emotions were so foreign to him that he was angry. Frustrated. Ready to snap.
“The only information I received from your mother was that you needed to investigate a possible case of hospital fraud from over three decades ago. I assume this has something to do with your birth?”
He sat back in his chair, his hands gripping the arms. His mother had contacted Nicola Parrish because one of his mom’s good friends had worked with the lawyer in an adoption situation and had highly recommended her work ethic, in addition to her investigative experience. “It does.”
“Are we talking about a situation where infants might have mistakenly gone home with the wrong parents?”
“It’s not that simple.” Perhaps he should have seen a shrink first. To sort out his chaotic feelings. Lawyers were trained to be observant, not to get into a guy’s head. Although in truth, he didn’t want anyone inside his head. Because if that happened, he would be unable to hide the dark river of confusion that swelled and crested in his veins.
“Mr. Avery?”
Inhaling sharply, he dug his fingernails into the thick, expensive upholstery. “My father is dying of kidney failure.”
The flicker of sympathy in her blue-gray eyes seemed genuine. “I’m sorry.”
“He needs a transplant. His time may run out while he’s on the waiting list. So I decided I should be the one to do it. We ran all the tests, and...” He stopped short as the lump in his throat made speech impossible.
“And what?”
Pierce jumped to his feet, pacing the small space. He noted the expensive Oriental rug in pastel shades of pink and green. The buffed hardwood floors visible elsewhere. The fireplace that had been functional once upon a time, but now framed a large arrangement of forsythia.
“I’m not his son.” He’d said those words in his head a hundred times in the last three days. Blurting them aloud made the truth no more palatable.
“You were adopted? And you didn’t know?”
“My mother says that’s not the case.”
“An affair, then?”
Pierce winced inwardly. “I don’t think that’s a possibility. My mother is a one-man/one-woman kind of female. She adores my dad. For a moment I thought she might be lying to me about the adoption thing. But I saw her face when the doctor told us. She was devastated. This news was as shocking to her as it was to me.”
“So then the only other explanation is that you were switched in the hospital nursery, right?”
“My mother’s aunt, my great-aunt, was the doctor on duty that night. I highly doubt that she would have allowed such a mistake.”
“So you need me to do what?”
He leaned his forearm on the mantel, staring at a painting of Thomas Jefferson hanging on the wall above the fireplace. The former president had fathered an undetermined number of children. People were debating his paternity even now.
Pierce had never once doubted his familial connections. He was as close to his parents as a son could be, though they’d had their differences during his adolescent years. The knowledge that he was not his father’s blood son had shaken him to the core. If he wasn’t Pierce Avery, then who was he?
“My mother is spending every waking minute at the hospital with my father. She hopes they will get him stabilized enough to go home. But even so, her focus is his well-being.”
“And you?”
“I’ve informed my assistant manager that I may need some personal time. He’s extremely competent. So I have no worries there. I’ll make myself available to you as much as possible, but we need you to spearhead this investigation. We’ve told my father I’m not a match, but he doesn’t know the whole truth. Clearly, this is very important to us. We need your help.”
* * *
Nikki had never seen a man less likely to need help from a woman. Pierce Avery was big. Broad-shouldered, well over six feet and muscular on top of that. He looked like he could take a mountain apart with his bare hands...or scale one in a blizzard.
He was also the kind of man who instinctively protected women. She could see it in his stance. His sheer masculinity made something flutter in her belly. She was educated, independent. Financially stable. So why did the prospect of being coddled and sheltered by a big, strong man make her go weak in the knees with silly feminine arousal?
Those pesky prehistoric pheromones.
“It seems to me that our first step will be to subpoena hospital records,” she said calmly. Pierce Avery wanted immediate action. That much was evident. So she would try to be accommodating.
Her would-be client grimaced. “The hospital was a private facility. In the mid-nineties, it was bought out by a corporate entity, absorbed and ultimately bulldozed.”
“Nevertheless, the records had to be preserved somewhere.”
“That’s what we’re hoping. How long will it take you to get them?”
Nikki frowned. “You seem to have the misguided notion that you are the only case I have to consider.” His single-mindedness was understandable, but unacceptable.
“We can pay.”
Nikki felt her hackles rise. “I don’t like it when rich people throw their money around and expect everyone else to jump.”
He glanced at her expensively framed diplomas. “Harvard isn’t exactly cheap, Ms. Parrish. I doubt you’ve ever clipped coupons.”
She willed her anger to subside, regulating her breathing until she could speak without inflection. “You’d be surprised.”
He stared at her. “I’ve never cared much for lawyers.”
One by one, he was pushing each of her buttons. Teeth clenched, she glared. “Are you always this obnoxious?” She stood, smoothing her skirt.
Pierce closed the small distance between them, running a hand through dark hair that was thick and a little shaggy. “Are you always this difficult?”
Their breath comingled. She could see a pulse beating in the side of his neck. His deep-brown eyes were too beautiful for a man. “I rarely brawl with my customers,” she muttered. “What is it about you?”
He stepped back. It irked her that her reaction felt more like disappointment than relief. “I’m not myself,” he said, looking somewhat abashed.
“Is that an apology?”
“I still don’t like lawyers.”
“You can’t really afford to be choosy, can you?”
His eyes flashed. “This wasn’t even my idea.”
“No,” she drawled. “Your mommy made you come.” She taunted him deliberately, curious to see if he would tell her to go to hell.
Instead, he surprised her by laughing out loud, his entire face lighting with humor. “This is the first time in my life that I recall ever paying to be insulted.”
She shook her head, bemused by the almost instant connection between them. A negative kind of rapport perhaps, but a definite something. “I do believe you bring out the worst in me.”
“Bad can be good.”
He said it with a straight face, but his eyes danced.
“I don’t flirt with clients,” she said firmly, shutting him down.
“Why is this office for rent?”
He shot the question beneath her defenses, leaving her gaping and struggling to find an ambiguous response. “Well, I...” Damn it. She was cool and deadly in a courtroom. But that was with hours of preparation. Today she felt quicksand beneath her feet.
Pierce cocked his head. “State secrets?”
She sighed. “Not at all. If you must know, I’ve sold my practice. I have an offer to join a firm in northern Virginia, just outside D.C. With one of my law professors.”
“I hear a but in there somewhere.” His curious gaze belied his earlier gruffness.
“I asked for time to think about it. I’ve been out of school for six years. Never taken more than a long weekend for vacation. Burnout is such a clichéd word. But that’s where I am.”
“You must be pretty sure of your decision if you’ve already sold your practice.”
“I’m not. Not at all. But even if I don’t take the offer, I’m ready for something new. I’d like to work as legal counsel for a nonprofit.”
“You can’t get rich doing that.”
“Have you ever heard the phrase follow your bliss? I want to live my bucket list as it comes...not wait until I’m old and half-dead.”
“I can relate,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
She doubted it. He had silver spoon, heir-of-the-manor written all over him. She glanced at her watch. “We’ll need to continue this later,” she said. “I have another appointment.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ve found out all I need to know. You can give me your whole attention. I like that.”
Was it her ears, or did every word out of his mouth sound sexual? “I’m beginning a va-ca-tion,” she said slowly.
“Yes, I know. And some deep introspection. I can help you with that. Whatever your fees are, I’ll pay them. And together we’ll exhume the skeletons in my closet that honest to God, I’d rather not meet. But in the meantime, I’ll help you become more of a human being and less of an uptight lady lawyer.”
“I haven’t said I’ll take your case. And besides...what qualifies you to help me unwind?”
He adjusted the portrait over the fireplace until it hung perfectly straight. Then propped a hip on the corner of her very expensive desk. “You’ll see, Ms. Nicola Parrish. You’ll see.”
Two
Pierce had been forced to cool his heels for six days before Nicola wrapped up her appointments and was officially off the clock. Even now, he’d been coerced into helping her move out of her office in exchange for a face-to-face meeting. Fortunately, his father was holding his own, but Pierce wasn’t willing to wait much longer for the answers he needed.
At Nicola’s request he’d brought a truck he and his dad used to transport inner tubes and kayaks. Pierce had to give it to her—she was a master negotiator. He could think of several hundred things he’d rather be doing on a hot summer day than moving boxes.
His mood, however, took a definite uphill swing when he knocked at the street door and Nicola let him in. She looked far more approachable today. A simple headband kept her pale-blond hair off flushed cheeks. Brief khaki shorts left those gorgeous legs on display, and the outline of her breasts in a close-fitting white T-shirt dried his mouth. The black espadrilles on her feet made her look far too young to be a successful lawyer.
He cleared his throat. “Truck’s parked outside.” His tone was gruffer than he had intended, but he was trying to hide his reaction to her casual attire.
Nicola frowned. “You’re late.”
Eyebrows raised, he promised himself not to take the bait. “There was an accident on the way over. I had to take a detour,” he said mildly.
She swiped a finger across her forehead, grimacing. “It’s hot as Hades in here. Someone got the dates wrong and turned off my power two days early.”
“Bummer.” He stepped inside, not surprised to see the reception area reduced to a large pile of boxes. “Do you live on the second floor?”
“Good Lord, no. That would be a terrible idea for a workaholic.”
He followed her up the stairs, his gaze level with her curvy butt. “Most people who are workaholics don’t admit it.” It was a good thing he was about to do some literal heavy lifting, because he needed something to distract him from carnal thoughts about a woman he barely knew.
The room upstairs was just that, a fairly large open space with a tiny bathroom walled off in one corner. Clearly Nicola had used this level as a storage area, though in one corner there was a sofa and a table and lamp that indicated she might occasionally spend the night or at least catnap in the middle of a busy day.
She bent and picked up a medium-sized box, her gaze wry. “Self-deception is rarely productive. I know myself pretty well. Let’s get moving. So far I’ve got fifty-three boxes ready.”
His lips twitched. “Fifty-three? Not fifty-four or fifty-two?”
“Are you making fun of me?” She frowned, a tiny wrinkle appearing above the bridge of her perfectly classic nose.
He took the box out of her hands. “You finish packing and taping. I’ll load the boxes, Ms. Parrish. I outweigh you by at least eighty pounds, and since I doubt you’d trust me enough to actually fill a box, this makes more sense.”
She folded her arms across her waist. “You may as well call me Nikki. I think we’ve already damaged the lawyer/client relationship.”
Adding a second box to his load, he tested the weight and decided he might even manage a third. “You call it damage, I call it progress. I’d just as soon not have a desk between us.” Unless you’re sprawled on it and I’m leaning over you, licking your—
He brought himself up short, grinding his teeth. Attraction in this situation was not going to help matters. “Nikki it is. And you can call me Pierce.”
* * *
Nikki felt guilty. Not guilty enough to refuse Pierce Avery’s help, though. She had fully intended to hire movers, at least a couple of college guys who needed cash. But when Pierce had called her office repeatedly for three days, she’d been frazzled and testy and had finally told him if he wanted a second appointment so damn badly, he could help her move her office.
She hadn’t really expected him to agree. The ultimatum had been a toss-away comment, a reaction to his dogged insistence. Still, here they were. The guy with the big muscles handling her boxes with ease and the lady lawyer with the big brain reduced to panting over rippling biceps and the faint hint of aftershave that lingered in the stairwell.
Muttering beneath her breath, she finished up the last big pile of junk upstairs by stuffing it all into a trash bag and tossing the bulging plastic blob out the back window into a Dumpster in the alley.
With one last quick glance around the room to make sure she hadn’t missed anything of value, she descended the stairs, checking first to make sure Pierce was still out at the street. She didn’t want to have to squeeze past him on the narrow stairs. Never had a man made such an impression on her. He was impossible to ignore, both by virtue of his forceful personality and his ruggedly masculine looks.
She’d dated wealthy guys in law school a time or two. But when all was said and done, each relationship ended by her choice. The gulf between her past experience and theirs was too great to sustain a long-term commitment. It occurred to her on reflection that it had been almost two years since her last date here in Charlottesville, and even longer than that since she had been intimate with a man.
Her wide circle of friends kept her social calendar filled, and on the rare occasions when she had free time, she used the extra hours to power through the backlog of work that always dogged her.
She loved her job. The diplomas on the wall were more than mere window dressing. They were a testament to how far she had come. Those same diplomas now rested back-to-back in a sturdy cardboard carton that would go straight into her car when she and Pierce were finished. The only real challenge remaining was her desk. She snagged two packing boxes, pulled up the appropriate spreadsheet on her computer to label them and started opening drawers.
* * *
Pierce stood in the doorway, unnoticed, and studied the woman who was going to help him make sense of the unbelievable. She worked quickly and methodically, using Ziploc bags to corral paper clips, pens, rubber bands and a host of other office necessities. He knew what she was doing. He’d carried out enough boxes to realize that she had color-coded and cross-referenced each one. He had to admire such single-minded organization, but he didn’t possess any of those genes. If it had been left up to him, he would have managed to box up the whole place in half a day.
But Nikki Parrish was too meticulous to cut corners. Which was why she would never be searching for a washcloth and towel at one in the morning, as Pierce had been the night he’d moved into his new house.
While he watched in silence, he saw her reach into the back of the flat center drawer and extract something small that looked, from this distance, like a metal animal.
“Gift from an old boyfriend?” he asked, entering the room and sprawling onto her settee with a groan of relief. The window beside the fireplace was open, letting in a much-needed breeze.
Nikki clutched the figurine to her chest, her eyes wary. “I’m not sentimental, Mr. Avery.”
“I told you to call me Pierce. And if you’re not sentimental, then why do you have that whatever-it-is hidden away in the bowels of your desk?”
It was a fair question, and a simple one. But Nikki seemed taken aback by his query. She shrugged, turning the object in her fingers, her expression pensive. “It’s a pewter collie. Someone gave it to me when I was a child.”
“So if you’re not sentimental, why keep it?”
A shadow of something dark danced across her face. “It reminds me of a particularly bad day.”
“I’d think you’d want to toss it, in that case.”
She looked up at him, her gaze bleak. “Sometimes we have to remember the past, even when it hurts. Acknowledging our mistakes can help us make sure we never repeat them.”
The note in her voice disturbed him. What did Nicola Parrish have to regret? Surely nothing too terrible at her age. He thought about pressing for details, but decided it was not a smart idea. He couldn’t take a chance of pissing her off. Not when he needed her help so badly.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the pleasant strain of exertion. Despite the physical nature of his job, two hours of lifting heavy boxes tapped into a whole extra set of muscles. “The upstairs is clear,” he said. “And the outer office minus the furniture. All we have left is whatever is in here.”
“You’re fast.”
“No point in wasting time.”
“I appreciate your help,” she said, her manner a trifle stiff.
He shrugged. “It’s a quid pro quo, remember? I’ll take you to dinner tonight and you can tell me what you’ve uncovered so far.”
She leaned forward to drop the dog into a box...hesitated...and at the last moment, tucked it into the pocket of her shorts. “Dinner isn’t necessary.”
“You’ve had a long day, longer still by the time we’re done. It’s the least I can do.”
“I’m not dressed for dinner.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll go home and get cleaned up while you do the same. There’s a new place over on East Market I’ve been wanting to try.” He paused. “Are we taking the boxes to your house? I’ll be quicker unloading than loading. I took my time packing them in, but it’s still going to take two runs.”
She shook her head. “My condo is tiny. I’ve rented a storage unit two blocks over. If you don’t mind, I’ll give you the key and the code, and by the time you get back, I should be finished. This desk and that furniture grouping go also...but none of the pieces in the outer office.”
When she handed him the keys, her fingers brushed his palm. The two of them were close enough that he could inhale the not-unpleasant scent of overly warm feminine skin. He flashed for a moment to a vision of the both of them showering together. Holy hell. Not an auspicious time to get hard.
He backed away as casually as he could. She handed him a slip of paper with the address and the code. “Thank you for doing this.”
Trying to ignore his baser instincts, he cleared his throat. “Have you had any luck with the records?”
She perched on the edge of her desk, one leg swinging. “You’re lucky we live in the high-speed age, Mr. Impatient. Something came through on my laptop just a little while ago. I’ll print out the attachments and bring them to dinner. With both of us looking at them, surely we can spot any anomalies.”
His arousal faded as he once again felt the crushing burden of knowing that something terrible had happened when he was born. Did he really want the answers? No, but he didn’t really have a choice.
“I won’t be long,” he said, striding from the room before she could read his unease. “See you in a few.”
* * *
Unloading the truck was a piece of cake since he could carry boxes directly into the unit Nikki had rented. It occurred to him that she was literally storing away a large part of who she was while she tried to relax, unwind and decide the next step her life would take.
In that way, their situations were similar. Pierce, who had been comfortably assured that his life’s course was mapped out, was suddenly faced with putting his assistant manager in charge of the business in order to wade through deep, unknown waters. He wasn’t his father’s son. Even now, with plenty of time to get used to the idea, he was incredulous.
As he drove back, he tried to imagine how he would react when he found out the truth of his birth. But the problem was, he had no idea how to spin that. No scenario made sense.
Nikki was waiting for him on the stoop when he got back, her face tilted toward the sun, stylish black sunglasses hiding her expression. He put the truck in Park and got out. “All done?”
She nodded, handing him a water bottle. “Yep. I feel a little sick to my stomach.”
“How come?” He sat down beside her, their hips practically touching. Her arms and legs were pale in the afternoon sunlight. Workaholics were rarely suntanned.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing. I love it here in Charlottesville. But I keep thinking there’s something more. Something I’m missing.”
“Marriage and kids?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Doubtful. Kids require attention, and I’m not sure I can change my ways. I’ve worked flat out for all of my adult life.”
“For what?”
“Validation. Fulfillment. Rent money. How about you?”
“My dad and I own and operate an outdoor adventure company. He pushed and prodded me until I finished a business degree, but that was merely a means to an end for me. I could never have stomached sitting at a desk all day. I’m an adrenaline junkie. More action. Fewer words.”
Three
Nikki wondered if he meant that last bit to sound suggestive. Was he flirting, or was her overheated imagination reading subtext where there was none? It wasn’t difficult to imagine Pierce practicing his philosophy of life in the bedroom.
She swallowed hard, envying him his casual confidence. She had worked incessantly since she was sixteen, terrified of the prospect of being broke and alone. Though she had found help along the way, much of her success could be attributed to sheer cussedness and an unwillingness to give up.
Her savings and retirement funds were sound. And even with this hiatus, her checkbook wouldn’t suffer too much. But in her desperate push to achieve fiscal security, she had occasionally forgotten how to have fun. With big, sexy Pierce Avery sitting on her doorstep, literally, the prospect of playing hooky was suddenly irresistible.
His body was a thing of beauty, strong and muscular and perfectly proportioned. It came as no surprise to know that he spent his days outdoors in physical activity. He carried himself with the masculine grace of an athlete. Though he was a large man, he was neither clumsy nor inelegant. Sitting so close, she could study his hands—the long fingers, broad palms, neatly trimmed nails. It occurred to her that Pierce was the kind of man who could sweep a woman off her feet and carry her up a flight of stairs without effort.
When her breathing grew choppy, she knew she was in trouble. “I suppose we should get back to work,” she said, wincing at the unmistakable wobble in her voice.
Pierce didn’t seem to notice. He stood up in one fluid movement and held out a hand to help her to her feet. “I’m ready if you are.” When his warm grasp engulfed her smaller hand, her knees trembled. Wow. This was a heck of a time to fall victim to an entirely inappropriate infatuation.
He released her at exactly the right moment, leaving her to wonder if all that dizzying attraction was on her side only. He held open the door and followed her into her office.
“I guess the desk needs to go on first, doesn’t it?” she asked, trying to sound businesslike and professional instead of like a teenage girl with a crush on the star quarterback.
“It does,” Pierce agreed, eyeing her dubiously. “I don’t want to offend your womanly sensibilities, but wouldn’t it be better if I call one of my buddies to help me with this?”
“I’m stronger than I look,” she insisted. “I’ll get this end and you take that one and walk backward. We can set it down in the doorway to catch our breath before we go the last bit to the truck.”
It was clear he wanted to argue, but she was ready to be done with all this and go home. Now that the moment was actually at hand, she felt hot tears sting her eyes, despite her professed lack of sentimentality. This cozy suite of offices and the square footage upstairs had been a happy, comforting place—a spot where she had found her stride, cut her teeth, learned to trust in herself.
She watched as Pierce felt for a handhold at the corners nearest him. “Use your legs to lift,” he said, “not your back. On my count. One, two, three...”
Just as she picked up her end, a small, furry rodent darted from its hitherto undisturbed hiding place, scrambled over her bare ankle—yuck—and disappeared into a gap where the baseboard met the wall.
She shrieked and dropped the desk, feeling an instant stab of pain when the unforgiving wood landed on her shoe.
* * *
“Holy hell.” Pierce set down his end gently and lunged forward, lifting the desk to free Nikki. Her face twisted in a grimace of pain. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the settee, seating her with her legs across his lap. “Let me see how bad it is,” he muttered. “Why in God’s name did you drop the desk?”
Embarrassment colored her face a rosy red. “A mouse ran over my foot. I hate mice.”
Her left foot had taken the hit. Gently, he untied the shoe and eased it off. They both sucked in a breath at the damage. If the heavy furniture had landed an inch to one side, it would have crushed several bones. As it was, it had caught the edge of her big toe, ripping skin and bloodying her foot.
He held her heel in his hand. “Do you have any first-aid supplies? Any ice?”
She shook her head. “I unplugged the mini fridge yesterday. My assistant wanted it for her college-aged daughter. And I’ve never kept any medicine here. I guess I should have.”
He frowned. “I’ll take you to the emergency room.”
“No, please. Nothing’s broken. You can see that. I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks. And it’s not my right foot, so I’ll be fine to drive.”
Pierce had dealt with a fair number of sporting injuries over the years. He was certified in CPR. In fact, he could be called upon to stitch up a life-threatening wound if no help was at hand and hospitals too far away. When he took groups into the wilderness, his responsibility was to care for them in every way.
But seeing Nikki in pain made him a little woozy. Her fair skin was so soft and beautiful it was a crime to see it damaged. Her feet were long and narrow with high arches. Only when she moved restlessly did he realize he was caressing the bottom of her injured foot with his thumb.
Immediately, he dropped her leg, and then felt like a jerk when she gasped softly. “I’ve got plenty of first-aid stuff at my house, and you could use a break with a change of scenery,” he said. “No arguments.”
“I was born to argue,” she said, smiling at him despite her injury. “And besides...I have to be out of here by midnight or I have to fork over another month’s rent. So thanks for your chivalry, but I’ll be fine.”
He knew she was an independent, successful woman, but her stubbornness at the moment frustrated him. “I know a couple of guys who owe me a favor. You can trust them with your belongings, I swear. I’ll ask them to get the last few things out. Will that satisfy you?”
She gnawed her lip, clearly not used to letting someone else take the wheel. He understood self-reliance...hell, he even applauded it. But it was foolish not to accept help when help was at hand. Fortunately, Nikki must have come to the same conclusion. “Thank you,” she said. “That would be wonderful.”
He eased her legs to one side and stood up, situating her on the settee carefully. “Let me call and make sure they’re available. Don’t move.”
* * *
Even though her foot throbbed like a bad toothache, Nikki didn’t move. Not only because of her injury, but because she wanted to study Pierce while he wasn’t looking at her. She’d been right about his ability to sweep a woman off her feet. He’d lifted her as if she were no heavier than a child. And she was not a lightweight.
It was in his nature to take over. She could see that. But he was genuinely making an effort to defer to her wishes. Which endeared him to her, despite his innate bossiness. She should never have made this lame bargain. Pierce was too handsome, too charismatic, too everything.
Her plan to take time off and decide on the next step in her life had to be a priority. Giving in to a moment’s infatuation with a would-be client was impulsive and possibly foolish, neither of which normally described Nicola Parrish.
There was, however, some justification for her momentary lapse in judgment. Pierce Avery was the whole package: smart, funny, kind and strong. Heck, next to him a Boy Scout would look like an unmotivated slacker. Nevertheless, she’d do well to ignore the way her heart pitter-pattered when he touched her. The man was being solicitous, that’s all. And he wanted something from her, so even his attentiveness was suspect.
Pierce needed her in his quest for answers. And she suspected that he was single-minded enough to take care of any obstacles in his way, including but not limited to playing doctor for his injured lawyer.
She flexed her ankle experimentally, sucking in a sharp breath when pain shot up her leg. Already her foot was swelling. And throbbing. Dang it to heck and back. This was a complication she didn’t need.
Moodily, she watched her Galahad pace as he lined up replacements to finish her move. He looked far more relaxed today than he had when they’d first met in her office. An old, gray UVA football T-shirt clung to his broad, flat torso and exposed rippling arm muscles. His navy board shorts were well-worn, and when he bent over to pick up a pencil that had rolled out from under the desk, she glimpsed the waistband of his boxers.
More flustered than she cared to admit, she dragged her attention away from Pierce and decided to try standing up. She eased her good foot to the floor, swung her other leg around and gingerly stood, putting weight on her left leg. Not too bad. It was uncomfortable, sure, but with a couple of ibuprofen she’d be fine by morning.
Pierce ended his phone call and glared at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s not a sprained ankle. I’m entirely capable of walking.” Although the prospect of having him carry her again was temptingly sweet.
“The sidewalk outside is hot enough to melt steel. How do you plan on getting to the car?” He crossed his arms over his chest as if daring her to argue with him further.
“Well, I...” She trailed off, ruefully aware that she hadn’t taken into account the actual logistics of getting to the car. As a kid, she’d had tough soles and could play outside with impunity. But that had been long ago, and Pierce had a point. Burning the bottom of her foot on top of her recent injury was not a pleasant prospect.
“Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “You may carry me.”
* * *
Pierce smothered a grin. They were both sweating buckets, and though Nikki was trying hard not to snap at him, he could tell she was irritated, particularly since the job was not finished. She struck him as the kind of woman who liked her i’s dotted and her t’s crossed.
He managed a neutral expression. “In that case, let’s go.”
As he crossed the room in her direction, Nikki held up a hand. “Not so fast. We can’t leave until your friends get here.”
“They’re going to swing by my place to get the keys. We’ll lock the office and my truck and leave the truck on the street. I’ll drive your car and take you home in it later. I can always get a cab.”
She shifted from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“How can that be a bad thing?”
“I suppose I should be grateful.”
“And yet you’re not,” he said wryly.
“Of course I am.”
“But you’d much rather have finished the day on your own terms.”
“Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No. But there’s something to be said for going with the flow.”
“I’d rather be digging a trench to redirect the flow the way I want it.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I need to go by my place first to get some clean clothes. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all, Your Highness,” he said, swinging her up into his arms before she could protest. “Your wish is my command.”
* * *
Pierce felt her slender arm curl around his neck and sighed inwardly. This was a heck of a time to feel unmistakable sexual attraction. He had a mystery to solve, and this woman was his only ally. He couldn’t afford to let her know that she seriously did it for him. Everything from her silky hair to her classic cheekbones to her pinup-girl legs turned him on. With her in his arms, it was a short jump to imagining her in his bed...naked...calling out his name when he made her come.
Damn it. Lust was a messy complication. If he was smart, he’d ignore her evocative scent and treat her like an asexual friend. Trouble was, there was nothing asexual about Nikki Parrish. She didn’t flaunt her looks or really accentuate them in any way that he could tell, other than with a hint of mascara and some lip gloss. But her sexuality shone through, even when she was playing the uptight lawyer.
Pierce had to move the seat all the way back to get his legs into Nikki’s small Sentra. She hadn’t complained once when he locked her office door and deposited her in the passenger seat of her car. He started the engine and shot a sideways glance at his unusually silent passenger. “What’s the matter?”
She shrugged, her gaze locked on the door they had recently exited. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Now I don’t know. I didn’t expect to feel so...”
“Sentimental?”
She punched his arm. “I was going to say conflicted.”
“It’s natural. Every turning point in life is an emotional hurdle.”
“Wow. That’s pretty deep.”
“You mean for a non-cerebral guy like me?”
“Your words, not mine. Just because you didn’t choose a desk job doesn’t mean you’re any less of an intellectual being.”
“Sometimes I think it makes me more of a thinker,” he admitted. “There’s something about nature that strips away all the crap and reduces life to its most basic elements.”
She gave him directions to her condo, which was only a couple of miles away. Again he carried her, though since her unit was on the ground floor, it wasn’t far. Inside, he looked around with interest while Nikki collected what she would need.
Moments later, she came out of the bedroom. “I’d rather shower here, if you don’t mind. Can you entertain yourself for a few minutes?”
“Of course,” he said, settling into a comfy armchair and picking up the remote. As he absently flipped channels, he studied her place. It was nicely furnished and tidy, but hardly big enough to toss a cat. The nearest bookshelf was filled with law books. No knickknacks and no pictures. Odd. Even her office had shown more signs of color. Though there’d been no photos there, either.
Nikki was true to her word. In no time at all she reappeared, wearing black slacks and a sleeveless white blouse. She looked cool and pristine, and he had a sudden urge to muss her up any way he could. “How’s the foot?” he asked, noting her bare feet.
“It hurt like heck in the shower,” she admitted. “But once we put some antibiotic ointment on it, I’m sure it will be fine. I did find some Band-Aids, but they’re too small.”
“I don’t think you’ll be comfortable going into a restaurant barefoot. And we need to bandage up that foot as soon as we can. There’s a steak place out near me that does carryout. Sound okay to you? Or are you a vegetarian?” More and more people were these days.
But Nikki was already shaking her head. “I ate a lot of beans and macaroni and cheese growing up,” she said, opening her purse and tucking a comb inside. “I love red meat. Any kind of meat, for that matter. So that sounds wonderful.”
Her comment sparked curiosity, but he decided not to pursue it. For now, he was simply relieved that she was not going to fight him over his plans for the evening. “What about the hospital documents?” he asked.
“If I can access my email at your house, I’ll print them out there. Is that okay?”
“Of course. Give me just a minute to order the food, and we’ll go.”
She told him her preferences, and after he placed an order, he moved to lift her again. She stopped him with a look. “The sun is getting low. I can tolerate the sidewalk. I appreciate the thought, but I’m walking to the car.”
He put his hands high in the door frame, stretching his shoulders. “Did your parents ever call you stubborn?”
Her face went blank, wiped clean of every emotion. “No...they didn’t,” she said, her voice cool. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go. I’m starving.”
He waited for her to lock the door and then followed her out to the car. Though it was hours yet until sunset, the sun’s rays had tempered and a light breeze alleviated some of the heat. Nikki didn’t say much. He wondered if he had somehow offended her.
The food was ready when he ran inside the restaurant. He paid for it quickly and jogged back to the car, oddly relieved to see Nikki and the car right where he had left them. He put the food in the trunk, except for one small sack. He slid into the driver’s seat and handed Nikki his peace offering.
“What’s this?” she asked, her mood suspicious.
“Hand-breaded onion rings. You said you were hungry.”
Four
Nikki didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Here she was, at the end of an emotionally and physically draining day, on her way to have an intimate dinner at a man’s house. And because she said she was starving, he’d bought her a snack in the meantime. As if humoring a fractious child.
When she opened the bag, the aroma of freshly cooked onions filled the car. She bit into one. “Oh, my...”
Pierce smirked. “I thought you’d like them.”
She ate three without blinking and then, shamefaced, handed them over. “You’d better have some. I can’t be held responsible if they all disappear. What are you? Some kind of mind reader? Onion rings are my weakness.”
“So you do have some,” he muttered, slamming on the brakes to keep from hitting a car that ran a stop sign.
“Some what?” She reached across the console and snagged a fourth piece of culinary heaven.
“Weaknesses.”
She glared at him. “Of course I have weaknesses. What a dumb thing to say.”
“Tell me,” he demanded. “I want to hear one. Do you occasionally forget to match your socks when you fold the laundry? Do you go eight months between dental cleanings instead of six? Is your checking account two pennies off?”
“Very funny.” She reached for the onion rings again and he batted her hand away.
“The rest are mine,” he said, shooting her a grin. “I worked hard today.”
“So I’ve heard. Why do men always have to be rewarded?”
“Trust me, Nikki. Onion rings are far down on the list.”
“If that was sexual innuendo, I’ll ask you to refrain.”
“Would I do that?”
“I have no idea. You’re virtually a stranger to me.”
“We’ve sweated together. That bonds people.”
“Says who?”
“Everybody. Ask around.”
She smiled at his bizarre logic, but didn’t respond. They had left the city proper and were now traversing a county highway. Moments later, Pierce turned into a concrete driveway flanked on either side by massive oaks whose canopies met in the middle.
The property was lovely. Though they had traveled no more than five miles outside of town, the feeling of isolation and peace was remarkable. As the house came into view, she murmured a quiet exclamation. Pierce’s home was constructed of mountain stone with a cedar-shake roof. Behind and to the side of the house she could see a pond. Horses grazed in a paddock to the right. Large windows gleamed opaque in the brilliant glare of the sun.
A well-kept, rolling lawn beckoned visitors to stroll into the nearby woods. Everywhere, shrubs and flowers bloomed. Slowly she opened her door and got out, ignoring Pierce’s command for her to wait. He had followed a semicircular driveway and parked right at the front door.
Hobbling a few steps was no problem at all when the reward was climbing the stairs and looking out across a summer scene so idyllic it might have been painted by a Renaissance master. “It’s lovely, Pierce,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I expected, but this is amazing.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said simply. He had retrieved their dinner from the car and followed her up the stairs. After unlocking the door, he ushered her inside. Here she saw evidence of money in every tasteful touch. Oversized leather furniture. A massive stone fireplace. Oriental rugs that reflected masculine tones in the color palette. Artwork on the walls that probably cost more than her whole condo.
The floor plan was mostly open, with the kitchen leading off to the right behind a half wall. Pierce disappeared for a moment and then reappeared, carrying a glass of wine. “I put our food in the warming oven. If you can stand to wait, I’ll jump in the shower and join you momentarily. There are rocking chairs on the front porch and out back as well.” He handed her the glass. “Enjoy yourself. Relax. I won’t be long.”
She took him at his word and wandered out back, sipping the Bordeaux he had given her. Though she wasn’t always a fan of red wine, this was lovely, smooth and fruity but not too sweet. Behind the house, the woods were kept at bay by another expanse of lawn, but here a fenced area was home to a family of basset hounds.
The dogs didn’t bark at her presence, but they ambled toward her and stared dolefully, as if expecting to be entertained. Smiling, she tiptoed down the steps and onto the lush grass. Her foot still hurt, but she ignored it, concentrating instead on the beautiful animals. “Hey, there, sweet things. Are you Pierce’s babies?” She bent and let them sniff her hand. “What pretty doggies you are.” She crooned to them, talking nonsense. Her life, as it was, didn’t have time for pets, but she loved them anyway.
Laughing at their antics, she squatted, wishing she could let them out, but unsure of the protocol. Suddenly, Pierce appeared at her side.
“You scared me,” she said, rising and putting a hand to her chest. “That was fast.”
“The guys just picked up your keys. They’ll call me when it’s done.” He, too, was barefoot, his masculine feet oddly appealing. He had changed into dark jeans and a crisp cotton shirt in a madras plaid. “Say goodbye to the three stooges and come inside so I can patch up your foot.”
“The three stooges?”
“Larry, Moe and Curly.” He pointed to the dogs one by one and they set up a chorus of baying. “Later, boys,” he promised. He took Nikki’s arm, his fingers warm on her skin. “You could pick up bacteria in the yard. Let’s head inside and clean you up.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” It was a novelty to have someone so concerned for her well-being.
“Infections can be serious. You don’t want to take a chance.” In the guest bathroom down the hall he had set out a full complement of first-aid supplies. “Roll up your pant leg and hold your foot over the tub. I’m going to douse it with hydrogen peroxide. It may sting a little.”
A little was an understatement. The antiseptic bubbled and fizzed, washing away any impurities, but the liquid hitting raw flesh was as painful as her shower had been. She bit her lip and closed her eyes until the worst was over. When she looked again, Pierce was kneeling at her feet.
He took her bare heel in his hand, and gooseflesh broke out all over her body. This was a terrible time to discover that her feet were erogenous zones. His touch was gentle but sure. First he dabbed the area dry with a paper towel. Then he smeared a thin film of antibiotic cream everywhere the skin was ripped.
It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but she was distracted by Pierce’s closeness. She was practically leaning on his shoulder. If she was so inclined, she could ruffle his thick hair with her fingers. Feeling hot and shaky and breathless, she watched him wrap gauze around her foot and tape it with the neat precision of a trained medic.
At last he stood, his big body dwarfing hers in the cramped confines of the bathroom. “That should do the trick. At least you’ll be able to wear a shoe over the bandage.”
She backed up against the sink, feeling her pulse race. “Thank you. I’m sure it will be fine.” He was staring at her mouth, and she wondered if she had onion ring residue stuck to her chin.
“Are you ready?”
Her abdomen tightened as little zings of excitement danced through her veins. “For what?”
A tiny smile tilted one corner of his mouth, as if he could see what she was thinking. “Dinner. Steak.”
She swallowed, her mouth dry. “Oh, sure. Yes. Of course.” She eased away from him and out into the hall. “Thanks for the medical attention.”
“No problem.”
In the kitchen, he insisted she park herself at the table while he dished up their steak, baked potatoes and Caesar salad onto attractive earthenware plates. Just as he sat down, she popped up. “We haven’t printed out the hospital records.”
He took her wrist and pulled her back into her seat. “We’re not at a restaurant. We have all evening. You can do that while I’m cleaning up dinner. We can sit together on the sofa and spread everything on the coffee table.”
“Okay.” She subsided into her chair and cut into her steak. It was cooked perfectly, and they ate in silence for several minutes. Often she grabbed dinner on the fly or ate at her desk at home while she worked on case files. She had forgotten how pleasant it could be to share a meal with a man.
She debated her next question, but she wanted to know. “How is your father doing?”
Pierce froze, fork halfway to his mouth, before he set it down and took a long drink of his wine. “Stable,” he said tersely. “I spent a couple of hours with him this morning. My mother hopes to be able to take him home in the next day or so.”
“And then what?”
Pierce frowned, his gaze not on her, but on some unseen scenario that made him upset. “More waiting.”
“When do you plan to tell him the truth?”
“When we know he’s strong enough to handle it. And it would be a hell of a lot easier if I had more to say than ‘The reason I’m not a match is because I’m not your son.’ How do you tell a man that his only child isn’t really his?”
“He’s still your father. He raised you...loved you.”
Pierce stabbed a bite of meat as if it deserved punishment. “I know all that. But blood ties go beyond simple reasoning. It’s something primeval. I never realized how true that was until I had it torn away from me.”
The conversation had taken a turn that curled Nikki’s stomach. “Families are about love. When someone chooses to love you, you’re connected, blood or no blood. Ask anyone who has adopted a child.”
He looked stricken. “God, Nikki, I’m sorry. Were you adopted?”
The irony of the question tightened her throat. “No. No, I wasn’t.”
Pierce ate the last of his dinner and drank a second glass of wine while she finished her meal. He rolled the stem of his glass between his fingers, his expression grim. “If it was left up to me, we’d drop the whole thing. I don’t need to pursue this.”
“You say that now, but it would eat away at you. Some questions never go away.”
His gaze sharpened. “Sounds like the voice of experience speaking.”
She shrugged. “Lawyers see a lot of stuff people don’t want to admit. Trust me, Pierce. You can’t merely close your eyes and pretend this never happened. Sooner or later, you’re going to want answers.”
“Which is why I have you.” He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. “My office is upstairs. If you have trouble with email or the printer, let me know.” He paused. “Do you need help walking?”
“No,” she said. “I can manage without you.”
* * *
Pierce rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, barely noticing what he was doing. In a few minutes, he was about to discover what might be an awful, terrible secret. If someone had asked him a few weeks ago, he would have said the only thing that scared him was the thought of his father dying. Now he had to acknowledge there were far worse scenarios.
The selfish part of him wanted to pursue this attraction he felt for Nikki Parrish. She was smart and driven and damned sexy. His gut told him they would be good together. But he needed Nikki’s brain and skills more than he needed to sleep with her. At least for the moment.
He wanted to go upstairs and hover. But suddenly it was important to make her believe that he was in control. That he wasn’t an emotional mess. He didn’t need her pity. Though, in truth, he was pretty sure she knew how close to the edge he was. He’d tried getting up each morning and pretending his life was normal, but that was a huge lie.
Distracting himself by flirting with Nikki might work for a moment here and there, and contemplating the escape of sexual oblivion was tempting. But she deserved better, and until he could make sense of his screwed-up life, he should do the honorable thing and leave her alone.
Touching her could rapidly become an addiction. Even in a decidedly nonsexual situation like patching up her poor injured foot, he’d been hyperaware of her scent, her soft skin, her slender body. There was something so feminine about her. Which was funny, really, because she’d made it clear that she was strong and capable and didn’t want to admit that a man could do things she couldn’t...even if it was something as basic as lifting heavy furniture.
His head jerked up at the sound of her feet on the stairs. He met her at the bottom. “Well?”
She held up a sheaf of papers. “This is going to take a while.”
Sighing, he held out a hand and motioned to the sofa. “Then let’s get started. The sooner I know, the better.” Suddenly, a thought struck him. “I’m paying you for your time,” he said.
Nikki sat and fanned out four piles. “You helped me move, remember?”
“Our agreement was that I help you move and you give me an appointment.”
Her smile hit him low in the belly. It was luminous, teasing.
She curled her right leg beneath her and sat gingerly, babying her hurt foot. “What if we call this a pro bono consultation? I’ve taken a personal interest in your case. And as of noon today, I am officially off the clock for six weeks.”
“You don’t owe me anything. We barely know each other.”
“Well,” she said slowly, her smile fading, “let’s just say I’m fascinated by what you’ve told me. I love a good mystery, and I have a feeling this one is going to have more twists and turns than a Hitchcock movie.”
“I’m glad my personal life entertains you.”
She patted the seat beside her. “Quit sulking. The news might turn out to be better than you think.”
“How can you say that? My dad is not my dad.”
“That’s not true. He is your dad. Being a father is so much more than dropping off sperm. He cared for you, spent time with you, showered you with love and affection. That’s what a father does.”
“You sound like a Hallmark card.” He sat down beside her, preserving a careful distance.
“I hope you’re not as cynical as you seem.”
“I’m not cynical at all,” he protested. Staring grimly at the pile of papers, he evaluated her impassioned definition of fatherhood. “I always had this notion that one day I’d produce a kid and he and my dad and I would do things together...you know...generation to generation.”
“You still can. No matter what. Forget about genetics for a moment. You love your dad. And he’s going to adore any baby that’s yours.” She patted his knee. “Give yourself time. I know the news was shocking, but I think you’ll find that in the end your relationship with your dad is no different than it ever has been.”
“I can’t help him with the transplant.” His throat swelled shut. His eyes stung. Though he stared blindly now, his eyes locked desperately on the stack of records, he could practically feel Nikki’s compassionate gaze.
She sighed audibly. “That’s true. But even if you had been his blood son, the markers might not have lined up. As it is now, the most you can do for him and your mom is to get to the bottom of this.”
“What if he doesn’t make it? What if they don’t find a donor?”
“You can’t think like that. I know this is huge. I’m not minimizing what has happened to you. Truly, I’m not. But it’s like having the breath knocked out of you when you’re a kid. It feels like you’re dying, and it’s scary as hell. Sooner or later, though, your lungs start working again and you know you’re going to be okay.”
He straightened his spine, unaccountably encouraged by her sheer conviction. “You must be very good at your job.” He shot her a sideways look and sat back, feeling a bit of his burden shift and lift. “Thank you, Nicola Parrish. You’re a very nice woman.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “I can be hard as nails when I have to be.”
“And when is that?”
“Oh, you know...dealing with a deadbeat dad in court. Talking to a drug addict who’s stealing to support a habit. Facing down a chauvinistic judge who thinks women need to be in the kitchen, not in front of the bench.”
His eyebrows rose. “Is that still a problem...honestly?”
“Not often. But occasionally. And though you would think it’s only the older ones close to retirement, sometimes it’s a young man. Jerks transcend age and class. I met more than a few along the way in school.”
“I’ll bet you were one of those annoying people who ruined the curve for everyone else.”
Her chin lifted. “I believe in doing a job one hundred percent or not at all.”
“Which is why you’re going to see this through.”
“I told you, I love a mystery, a puzzle. And I never give up until I get the answers. But I have to warn you, I’ll keep going to the end. Even if the truth is something you don’t want to hear.”
He clasped his hands behind his neck and leaned back into the sofa, feigning relaxation, though his guts were in a knot. “I’m scared,” he drawled, only half kidding.
She uncurled her leg and sat up straight, both feet on the floor. “You don’t have to be,” she said, answering his attempt at humor with an adorably serious expression. “The truth may hurt when we’re not expecting it, but secrets are far more deadly. Trust me, Pierce. You’re doing the right thing.”
Five
Nikki winced at Pierce’s expression. She had no clue what he was thinking, but replaying her words in her head, she realized how she must sound to him. Insufferably sure of her own capabilities, and bossy to boot. It wasn’t a great tack to take with a man. A truth that had been pointed out to her on more than one occasion. But if she had to hide who she was to be part of a relationship, she’d pass, thank you very much.
Not that she and Pierce were in a relationship, but still...
Pierce picked up a sheet of paper. “No use putting it off.” He sounded more resigned than anything.
“Indeed.” She opened her laptop and prepared a blank document.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“I like to make notes as we go along. Memory is a tricky thing. So I document things I either want to go back to later or that may turn out to be key points. Nothing formal at this stage. More like a running commentary.”
“How do I know what I’m looking for?”
“You don’t. Not really. You can check the basic facts, of course. But if someone deliberately perpetrated fraud, I’m sure they will have tried to cover their tracks.”
“Great,” he muttered. “A needle in a haystack that’s been buried for thirty-plus years. No problem.”
She handed him roughly half of the pages she’d printed out. “Man up, Mr. Avery. All good detectives have to slog though the mud. For an outdoorsman, that should be right up your alley.”
* * *
Pierce read automatically, though with less than perfect attention. He noted details like birth weight and time of delivery and length of newborn, all of which he had seen documented in his baby book in his mom’s careful handwriting. Page by page, he scanned lines of medical jargon. There were sections about medicines administered, blood pressure recordings and body temps, both mom and baby.
Nothing jumped out at him.
After half an hour, Nikki handed him her stack. “Let’s swap. Maybe I’ll see something you missed, and vice versa.”
The new pages were no more helpful. He found anecdotal descriptions of his mom’s labor. According to the records, it had been normal in every way. But something suddenly struck him. “Why aren’t there copies of ultrasounds? Seems like that should have been in here.”
Nikki pursed her lips. “Good point. I’m friends with my ob-gyn. Let me give her a call. Maybe those records were stored separately in radiology.”
As Pierce continued reading, Nikki disappeared for at least fifteen minutes. When she returned, her expression was wry. “Not to make you feel old or anything, but apparently back in the early eighties, ultrasounds were by no means routine. As a rule, they were used only in high-risk pregnancy situations, and sometimes not even then, because the technology was new and expensive and no one was one hundred percent sure they were safe.”
Pierce was shocked. “Wow. I never thought of that. I assumed they had been around forever.”
“Me, too.”
“I can’t imagine not seeing those little black-and-white pictures. I have friends who framed theirs.”
“But now you know why they’re not in your record.”
Pierce sat up and rolled his neck. “This doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere,” he said, feeling the muscles in his back kink and burn. “I wanted to take you out on a trail near here this evening, one that has a beautiful view. But not with your foot messed up. How about a drive? I need to get outside and breathe.”
“You should go by yourself,” Nikki said. “You deserve a break, and we’ve done enough for one day. But if you’ll drop me at my place, I’d appreciate it.”
“Trying to get away from me?” It annoyed him that even the thought of her leaving was unpleasant. He enjoyed his own company and the peace and quiet of his home at the end of a busy day. Yet with Nikki ensconced on his sofa, drinking his wine and smiling at him with those eyes that seemed to shift from blue to pewter and everything in between, he found himself needing her company more than was comfortable.
She nibbled her bottom lip, her thoughts hard to read on her face. “Not trying to get away,” she said carefully. “But wanting not to outstay my welcome.”
He tossed the records on the table and stood. “I’ll let you know when that happens, I promise. Grab that afghan. I like the top down.”
Perhaps it was bragging, but he couldn’t wait to show her his 300 SL. He ushered her out to the garage, opening the double-wide doors to let her enter before him. Though he wasn’t a total automotive freak, he did own seven vehicles of one kind or another, everything from a vintage Kawasaki motorcycle to a John Deere tractor he used for mowing. But he waited for her reaction to the one car that was his pride and joy.
Fortunately, Nikki was suitably impressed. “This is beyond cool,” she breathed, sliding into the passenger seat and caressing the butter-soft burgundy leather.
Pierce averted his eyes from her sensual gesture and checked the gas gauge. “I thought you might like it. It’s a 1960 Mercedes-Benz roadster. The cream paint and chrome are original. I bought it at auction when I was seventeen and spent the next five years rebuilding the engine and tracking down authentic parts. My dad and I worked on it summers and weekends.”
Again, without meaning to, he had stumbled into painful territory. Nikki remained silent, no doubt picking up on his mental confusion. Each time he told her something about his dad, he couldn’t escape the subtext. His dad wasn’t his dad.
Jaw clenched, he came to a conclusion. He was tired of rehashing the same fruitless fact. For the rest of the day, he planned on enjoying Nikki’s company and forgetting why they had met in the first place.
As he backed carefully out of the garage and swung around on the driveway, she frowned. “What kind of seventeen-year-old kid can buy a car like this?”
Pierce grinned as he pulled out onto the highway and picked up speed. “First of all, you have to understand that the engine had been ruined by someone putting a foreign substance into the gas tank. And secondly, the guy selling it didn’t know what he had.”
“So you took advantage of him.”
Pierce shrugged. “I was a minor. He was a grown adult. I figured he ought to know better.”
“And your parents allowed this?”
“Not exactly. I took money out of my college account without asking.”
She half turned in her seat, a hand to the side of her head as the wind whipped her sunshine hair. “Oh, my gosh. I would have killed you.”
He chuckled, this memory a lighthearted one. “They nearly did. Dad tried to return the car, but that was a no-go. The seller was adamant. So as punishment, I wasn’t allowed to touch my new toy for an entire six months. And I had to make straight A’s on my next report card.”
“That shouldn’t have been too hard. You seem like a pretty smart guy.”
“I had undiagnosed ADHD. School was torture.”
“But you told me you even have a master’s degree.”
“Only because my parents pushed and prodded me all along the way. Tutors, bribery and lots of TLC. I was damned lucky.”
“Yes, you were.”
Even an obtuse man couldn’t have missed the irony in her voice. Pierce took the entrance ramp to Skyline Drive, north of the Blue Ridge Parkway, and settled into a safe speed. Given his druthers, he’d have pushed the car to its limits, but despite a few self-destructive tendencies in his adolescence, he now had a healthy respect for the laws of the land.
He glanced at his passenger. “We’ve talked way too much about me,” he said, pulling his sunglasses from the visor as the late-evening sun threatened to blind him around one curve and another. “What about you? Where did you grow up?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her wrap the thin mohair afghan more tightly around her shoulders. “Nowhere you’ve ever heard of—a tiny town in the Midwest. That’s why I love these mountains so much.”
“Do you still have family back there?”
“No.”
His was a perfectly normal question. But between Nikki’s body language and the tone of her voice, he got the message. Not up for discussion. On the one hand, he could choose to be irritated, because she knew so much about him and he knew next to nothing about her. But the fact that he had asked her to delve into his past gave her carte blanche to poke and prod. He had no reason or right to cross-examine her, particularly when it was so clear that she did not want to share.
Instead of allowing the uncomfortable moment to ruin the evening, he chose to brush it off. Hopefully, she would learn to trust him enough to share her secrets. She’d claimed that secrets were deadly. He wasn’t so sure. Sometimes he was convinced that ignorance was bliss. And in his case, that adage might be truer than he wanted to admit.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/janice-maynard/a-wolff-at-heart/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.