That's My Baby!

“God knows. She’s behaving like a damn gypsy!” Russell shot a belligerent glance at his wife.

Her voice remained low and well-modulated. “Russell, we don’t know this young man that well. I think perhaps you should—”

“I think I should reconsider supporting this foundation, is what I think!” Russell turned back to Nat. “Tell me, Grady, how did you know that Jessica is our daughter? As I recall, she wanted to ‘fade into the woodwork’ as she put it, so she could—and I quote—‘live a normal life.’ She didn’t intend to tell anyone she was related to me. How did you find out?”

“She told me,” Nat said. Concern for Jess tightened his chest. “After the avalanche we became friends.” It was all he dared admit in this charged atmosphere. “I don’t think she ever told anyone else, but she told me. Now that I’m back in the country, I wanted to…say hello.” Yeah, right. Say hello. And then kiss her until neither of them could stand. And make love to her for about three days straight.

Adele leaned forward, her gray eyes intent. “Did you have a close relationship with our daughter, Mr. Grady?”

He’d been demoted from that first-name basis pretty quick, Nat thought as he wondered how to answer her.

“What the hell kind of question is that, Adele?” Russell asked. “The man said they were friends. Don’t go making something more of it.”

Adele ignored her husband and continued to study Nat. “She never mentioned being involved with someone,” she said, “but I knew it had to happen, sooner or later. She’s a beautiful girl.”

Nat’s throat went dry. “Yes.”

“She didn’t trust many people,” Adele continued, her gaze steady. “If she trusted you enough to let you know who she is, then I suspect you’re more than a friend to her.”

He’d hoped to avoid getting this specific, but he wasn’t going to lie to her parents. “We’re more than friends,” he said.

“Oh, that’s terrific!” Russell said. “Are you telling me you left my daughter high and dry while you went running all over God’s creation helping strangers in that little piss-ant country over there?”

“I…” Nat cleared his throat and faced Russell. He’d come into this room thinking of himself as a world-weary champion of the underprivileged. But he was beginning to feel more like an irresponsible teenager. “Yes, sir, I’m afraid that’s exactly what I did. And I’d like to make it up to her.”

“You’ll have to catch her first.”

Nat damn well intended to do that. At least it didn’t sound as if she’d found herself another guy. “Do you happen to remember where she was the last time she called?”

Adele’s poise cracked a little. “She won’t tell us,” she said, a quiver in her voice.

The tightness in his chest grew. “What do you mean?”

Adele’s knuckles showed white under her delicate skin as she clenched her hands in her lap. “She only says she’s on a grand adventure and she’ll fill us in later.”

“What?” Nat set down his drink and stared at her, incredulous.

“She apparently uses a pay phone,” Adele said, “and she gets off the line before we can—”

“This is unbelievable!” In his agitation, Nat got to his feet. “I know she wants to live her own life, but refusing to tell you her whereabouts is ridiculous!”

“I wanted to hire somebody to track her down,” Russell said, sounding defeated. “Adele won’t let me. She says if we do that, we’re liable to lose her forever.”

“At least now she calls!” Adele stood, as well. “If you get heavy-handed, she’ll stop doing that!”

“Then I guess I’ll have to find her,” Nat said. And she’d better have a damn good explanation for her behavior when he did. Maybe her mother and father were overprotective, but it was obvious to him that they loved her. They deserved better treatment than this. Either something was terribly wrong, or his darling Jess had turned into a brat.

“Don’t tell her you came to see us,” Adele said. “Please. She might think we asked you to find her for us.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t involve you.”

Russell levered himself from his chair. “But if you want that foundation money, you’ll tell us where she is when you locate her,” he said.

Nat gazed at him. As fair as that sounded, he couldn’t agree to it. First he had to talk to Jess and find out what had caused her to take off like this. “I can’t make that promise. I will try to convince her to come out of hiding so you don’t have to worry so much about her, but under the circumstances, maybe I should withdraw my request for foundation money.”

“No, no, you shouldn’t.” Russell’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a grin. “But you can’t blame me for trying to use some leverage.”

Nat smiled at him. “No, I can’t.”

“My accountants will contact your Colorado office in a few days.”

“What if Jessica finds out that you’re helping with this foundation? Won’t she make the connection?”

Nat had had enough. He’d learned that life could be short and brutal, and he didn’t have time for games. “Look, the welfare of those orphans is too important to let Jess interfere with the fund-raising. Unless she’s a different person from the one I knew, she wouldn’t want to interfere, no matter what her personal situation is. And I intend to find out exactly what that is.”

“You sound so sure you will,” Adele said.

“That’s because I am sure I will.” He refused to consider any other possibility.

“You called her Jess,” Adele said. “Does she go by that now?”

Nat looked at her. “No. I just…I call her that.” He realized how familiar that sounded. Her parents didn’t shorten her name when they spoke of her.

“I see,” Adele said. Obviously she saw everything.

Russell cleared his throat. “I don’t know your exact relationship to my daughter, and I don’t think I want to know,” he said. “Maybe you left her high and dry and maybe you didn’t. But if you find her and can let us know, this number will get you straight through to me.” He handed Nat an embossed card.

“I’ll find her.”

Russell extended his hand, and there was an unspoken plea in his gaze. He was obviously too proud to voice it, but it was there, nevertheless. “Good luck to you, son.”

CHAPTER THREE

JESSICA DIDN’T BOTHER to follow the road around to the house. She moved through the trees, greeting each one as an old friend while she tried to decide what to do once she arrived at the mansion. She couldn’t imagine what Nat was doing there. She was afraid to hope he was looking for her.

Her first glimpse of the house brought a rush of homesickness. Glancing up to the second floor, she picked out the darkened windows of her bedroom. Her parents wouldn’t have changed it. She and her mother had flown to Paris to choose the golden toile de Jouy fabric that draped the windows and the antique canopy bed. The bed probably had sheets on it, just in case she returned.

Most of the time she’d felt trapped in this house, but she’d also felt incredibly safe. Safety sounded good right now.

But if she walked into the house and accepted the protection her parents would love to give her, she’d lose all the independent ground she’d gained. And the fight wasn’t only about her now. Elizabeth deserved to grow up like a normal child instead of being followed by bodyguards wherever she went.

Oh, but the tug of home was strong, even after all this time. They were burning oak in the fireplace. The familiar smell of the smoke made her throat ache. She could picture her mother and father, each in their favorite wingback chair, reading glasses perched on their noses as they settled down with a favorite book. The love seat had been designated as hers, positioning her right between them.

When she’d been small, before she’d begun feeling stifled, the love seat sandwiched between her parents’ chairs had been a good place to be. She hadn’t exactly been allowed to sprawl on that seat while she read, but they’d let her tuck her feet under her as long as she took off her shoes first.

In those early days, at precisely nine o’clock, Barclay would arrive with refreshments—lemonade in the summer and steaming cocoa in the winter. And gingersnaps. Jessica could almost feel the crunch between her teeth.

She wondered if Nat was sitting on the love seat at this very minute. What on earth was he saying to her parents? A horrible thought came to her. If she told Nat about Elizabeth and the stalker, he might insist that she come back here and inform her parents. If he wanted to tell them himself, she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

With Elizabeth’s freedom at stake, maybe she’d better not tell Nat too much until she was sure he wouldn’t go running to her parents with the information. She didn’t think he’d sell her out, but she couldn’t be sure. After all, he’d come here tonight.

But she needed a plan.

The cab Nat had arrived in sat empty in the driveway as the driver strolled around smoking a cigarette. He returned to the cab to stub it out in the ashtray, which was a good thing, she thought. Herb, the gardener, would have a fit if he found a cigarette butt lying on his velvet lawn. He had enough trouble contending with the autumn leaves, which he snatched up the minute they dropped from the trees.

Still, she missed Herb and his persnickety ways. She missed all of the staff, even stuffy Barclay. She hadn’t realized how much until she stood in the shadows looking at the house that had sheltered her for so many years. But then, she supposed zoo animals would miss their keepers if they were suddenly turned loose. You had to give up something to get something, as her father was so fond of saying.

The cabdriver walked away from the car again and headed for the slope leading down to the river. About that time, the lights of a barge appeared from upriver, and the rumble of the boat’s engines drifted toward her on the night air. The driver stood with his back to her, his hands in his pockets as he gazed at the approaching boat.

Jessica’s pulse leaped as she recognized her opportunity. Nat had ridden in the front seat on the way out here. No doubt he’d do the same on the way back. While the cabbie watched the barge sail past, she could hide on the floor of the back seat. The boat’s engines would muffle the sound of her opening and closing the car door.

Unless Nat happened to come out at the exact moment when she was sneaking into the cab, she’d be able to hitch a ride without being noticed. When they arrived at Nat’s hotel, she’d reveal herself and hope that the cabdriver didn’t have a weak heart.

As for Nat, maybe he deserved the jolt she’d give him. For all she knew, he was telling her parents about her involvement with him, which she definitely didn’t appreciate having him do without checking with her first. To be fair, he would have had some trouble checking with her first, but still, in coming here he’d overstepped his bounds.

The rumble of the boat’s engine grew louder. Good thing she didn’t have a weak heart. It was skittering around like crazy while she waited for the noise to reach its loudest point. Okay. Now. She hurried toward the cab. The back door was locked.

She lost precious time opening the front door and reaching around to lift the button on the back door. Fortunately the barge’s engines drowned out the sounds she made. Or at least she hoped they did. The rhythmic rush of blood against her eardrums made it difficult to gauge how much noise she was making.

Luck seemed to be favoring her. The cabdriver didn’t turn around and the front door remained closed. She climbed into the back seat and shut the car door as quietly as possible. The driver stood watching the barge edge down the river. He probably didn’t think he needed to watch over his cab when he was inside the gated confines of Franklin Hall.

Putting her backpack on the floor, she lay on her side across the hump and put her head on the backpack. Not so good. And she’d thought she was roughing it when she’d had to give up first-class for coach.

She shifted position several times trying for some level of comfort. Finally she gave up. Comfort wasn’t in the cards for this ride. She’d have to hope, when the cab reached the city, that she wouldn’t be too crippled to walk.

Now if she could only stop gasping for breath, she might actually be able to pull this off. She forced herself to inhale slowly and deeply. She almost choked on the stale cigarette smell wafting up from the carpeting.

I’m doing this for Elizabeth, she told herself. She turned to face the back seat instead of the front, which gave her a little more breathing room. Gradually she became more accustomed to the obnoxious odor.

Nat’s backpack was within reach on the back seat. She stroked the frayed canvas, as if that would somehow start the process of connecting to him. He was not the same man who’d left her in Aspen, that was for sure. But then she wasn’t the same woman, either. Maybe they’d find no common ground other than the most obvious—their child. But Elizabeth’s welfare was worth any amount of sacrifice she had to make.

Despite her awkward position on the floor of the car, she began to relax. Then she heard the front door of the house open and close. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Nat was coming.

“All set?” the cabdriver called.

“Let’s go,” Nat replied.

His voice splashed over her, drenching her with longing. She wanted him. No matter how she’d tried to stamp out her feelings, the sound of his voice brought back a flood of memories—tender, lusty, explosive memories. And of all the times they’d made love, the most electrifying had been the night they’d conceived Elizabeth. He’d become such a part of her that night that she’d thought for sure he’d agree to break the code of silence.

Instead, he’d smashed their love to smithereens.

Her heart beat wildly as the front doors of the cab opened and the dome light flicked on. If either of them decided to look in the back seat during that brief time, they’d see her.

They didn’t.

The engine started, and she discovered one other unpleasant fact. She could smell car exhaust down here. Wonderful. Now she could worry about asphyxiating herself.

As the cab began to move down the driveway, Jessica was sure she could feel every rock and pebble in the road, especially when the tires threw them up under the car. But she didn’t dare move, at least not until they were well on their way back to the city.

“Did you get your business settled?” the cabdriver asked.

“Not exactly,” Nat said. “But it was a start.”

Please let this be a nosy cabdriver, Jessica prayed. She just might find out something that would partially make up for being crammed in here like a doomed mobster.

Unfortunately for her, the cabbie wasn’t all that interested in Nat’s business at Franklin Hall and started talking about the World Series instead. Jessica clenched her teeth as Nat happily traded opinions on the relative merits of each team in the playoffs. Guys and their sports.

Yet even though the conversation bored her to tears, she loved listening to Nat’s voice, and his low chuckle was enough to trip the switch on her libido. She didn’t focus on his words, but absorbed only his tone.

Maybe because she was lying in the dark, she began to think of how it had been lying with Nat in the dark. Gradually her mind replaced his talk about baseball with other words, polished gems from her treasure-house of memories. I could spend forever looking at you, Jess. And kissing you. Your skin tastes like milk and honey. Come here, woman. Come let me make love to you. For the rest of the night. Who cares about sleep when we can do this?

She hadn’t forgotten a minute of the time they’d been together. She wondered if he’d forgotten it all. But if he didn’t want anything more to do with her, why had he traveled to Franklin Hall the minute he set foot on U.S. soil?

Cautiously she wiggled over so she could see out the window. It wasn’t a great view, and the hump on the floor forced her to arch her back to an uncomfortable degree, but she’d be able to tell when they reached the city. She was more than ready to get there. The exhaust fumes were making her woozy.

“There’s the Franklin Tower,” the cabbie said. “They say Franklin’s office takes up the entire top floor. A huge office, they say, with a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of Manhattan.”

She knew that office. Jessica brought her attention back to the conversation in the front seat. Maybe the driver would finally try to get some gossip out of Nat.

“I’ve heard about his office,” Nat said.

He’d heard it from her. Nat had been the only person who knew about her background, and when he’d abandoned her, she’d lost more than a lover. She’d lost the one person she could talk to without constantly guarding her speech.

When she’d left New York, she’d severed all ties with friends because she couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t somehow give her away and leave her open to the kidnappers her father spoke about endlessly, the ones waiting to snatch a rich man’s child. She’d heard his warnings for so long that she believed him. She’d just wanted to find a different way to avoid that fate.

She’d made new friends in Aspen, but none of them knew she had a famous father. Only Nat. Keeping the secret had been more of a burden than she’d planned on, and confiding in Nat had been a welcome relief.

“That Franklin, I guess he’s a real wheeler-dealer,” said the cabbie, obviously fishing for information. “I’ve also heard he’s tough to get along with.”

No joke, Jessica thought. Try having a different opinion from his and see what happens to you. The lights of the city were all around her now, with horns blaring and even more fumes coming up through the floor of the cab. Her head started to pound, and she closed her eyes to see if that might help.

“Someone did tell me that Franklin was hard to get along with,” Nat said. “But he seemed like a reasonable guy to me.”

Jessica’s eyes snapped open. Nat thought her father was reasonable? What sort of a turncoat was he, anyway? Her headache grew worse.

“So you two got along pretty well, then?” the driver asked.

“I think so,” Nat replied. “Anybody with that much power is bound to rub people the wrong way once in a while, and he makes for an easy target, but he struck me as a decent man who tries to do the right thing.”

Jessica couldn’t decide which was worse, the fumes or Nat’s praise of her father. Both of them were making her sick.

“And I also think the person who told me he was hard to get along with probably has some authority issues to work out,” Nat added.

Authority issues? What the hell did he know about it? Jessica’s automatic yelp of protest was halfway out before she remembered that nobody was supposed to know she was hiding in the back seat. She clapped her hand to her mouth, but it was too late.

“Jesus!” the driver cried. “Somebody’s in the—”

“You watch the road! I’ll handle it!” Nat climbed into the back seat and grabbed Jessica by the front of her jacket.

She was too stunned to speak.

Gasping for breath, he hauled her up to a sitting position, which knocked her glasses askew. She pushed them back into place and tried to keep from throwing up. The exhaust fumes had really made her nauseated.

“My God, it’s a woman,” Nat said in amazement.

“What’s a woman doing in my cab?” the driver babbled hysterically. “Is she armed?”

“I don’t know,” Nat said, breathing hard. “Are you armed?”

She shook her head, still trying to keep from tossing her cookies.

“She’s not armed,” Nat said to the driver. As his breathing slowed, he peered intently at her. Multicolored lights streamed in through the cab windows and slid across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. But he seemed to be studying her, as if trying to solve a riddle.

“I’m heading for the nearest cop shop,” the cabbie said.

“Don’t do that yet,” Nat told the driver quietly. “Let me see if I can find out what’s going on here.” He looked down at Jessica. “Where did you come from?”

She didn’t trust herself to open her mouth without losing her lunch, so instead she took off her glasses and gazed up at him.

He stared at her, stared at her hard. Then, while he kept his gaze locked on hers, he reached up with his free hand and hit the switch on the dome light.

She blinked in the glare of the overhead, but when she could once again meet his gaze, she saw the dawning recognition there.

“Jess?” he whispered.

She nodded. Then she scrambled for the window, rolled it down and threw up.

ENDLESS HUMILIATING moments later, Jessica was finally ensconced in the bathroom of Nat’s hotel room with the door locked. Swearing under her breath, she stripped down, pulled off her wig and stepped under the shower. In all the scenarios she’d played in her head about this meeting, none of them had included barfing.

Fortunately she’d only baptized the side of the cab and the sleeve of her coat. In the hullabaloo following her hurling incident, she’d been too embarrassed to be able to gauge whether or not Nat was happy to see her. It would have been difficult to factor out the vomit in that calculation, anyway. Not many men would be happy to see a woman whose first move was to spew all over the place.

Once in the shower, she gave in to the urge to wash her hair with the luxurious hotel shampoo. Much as it pained her to admit it, she missed the five-star treatment. In the years since she’d left Franklin Hall, she’d tried not to dip into her trust fund at all, but once she quit her job and went on the lam, so to speak, she’d had to draw some money out. She begrudged every penny she spent, because it was her father’s money.

Consequently, she could hardly describe her accommodations in the past few months as first-class. Maybe fifth-or sixth-class.

Knowing Nat and his lack of pretense, she’d expected him to opt for a low-to-medium-priced hotel while he was in New York, but for reasons she couldn’t fathom, he’d directed the cabdriver to the Waldorf. From the reaction of the clerk at check-in, she’d figured out Nat hadn’t made an advance reservation, so it was a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Maybe he’d done it for her, although she’d died a million deaths standing there in the glittering lobby in her bag-lady clothes decorated with barf. Now, however, as she rinsed her hair under the most excellent showerhead she’d enjoyed in months, she blessed him for his choice.

Ah, the thick towels. Oh, the rich scent of the body lotion. She wanted to be a good girl and not care about such superficial things, but she’d been raised with them, and the sense of deprivation had been more acute than she’d planned on.

She smoothed at least half the tiny bottle of lotion over herself, both because it felt so good and because, once she was finished, she had to face putting on something wrinkled and musty from her backpack. She was sick to death of wrinkled and musty.

From years of experience with luxurious accommodations, she knew that in the room’s closet a thick terry robe would be hanging ready for just this moment. Technically it was there for the use of the person who’d rented the room. That person would be Nat.

She pictured herself coming out to talk to him in the wrinkled and baggy jumper and turtleneck she had stuffed in her backpack. Then she pictured herself having the same conversation wearing that thick white robe. The discussion would be difficult enough without looking bad while she had it.

Wrapping a towel around her, she went to the door and opened it a crack. “Nat?”

“Yes?” Instantly footsteps hurried in her direction. “Are you feeling okay? Should I call a doctor?”

“I’m feeling better than I have in ages,” she said. “But I have a big favor to ask. Would you mind if I put on the hotel bathrobe that’s hanging in the closet? My clothes are…well, they don’t look very…the thing is, I—”

“Here.” A wad of white terry poked through the crack in the door. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks.” She opened the door enough to pull the robe through. Oh, yes. Egyptian cotton. It felt like heaven as she pulled it on and belted it around her waist. In the steamy mirror she fluffed her still-damp hair. For the first time in months, she looked and felt like herself.