Secrets Of An Old Flame
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Convincing the court to release her trust fund would be beyond difficult. Her father had tied it to the company for tax purposes. She had no evidence to prove her father had not been behind the theft from his now bankrupt company, or an accomplice to the murder of his partner’s secretary. She knew in her heart that he never would commit those crimes, but how could she persuade a court of that?
The fact that all her money was tied up in her father’s company was one of the things that convinced her that he was innocent. He never would have run off without a word and left her destitute. Her father loved her.
Nikki pushed the covers back and sat up, shivering in the cold room. Her appointment with her father’s attorney was hours away, but she’d have to take the bus downtown so she needed to get moving.
She tore her thoughts away from the unpleasantness and turned her stiff body with a groan to watch her son as he wiggled and squirmed his way to wakefulness.
He was a lot like her. His stomach told him to wake up before he was ready to face the day. She smiled as she watched him stretch and yawn, his eyes still firmly closed.
Nikki loved Michael beyond comprehension. His well-being would always be her first consideration.
She’d made a major mistake having a relationship with Joe, but the fact he was Michael’s father couldn’t be changed. It had been her mistake, and her son didn’t need to suffer for it. Michael would need a man in his life as he got older.
Could she survive being around Joe? Too much history existed between them, too many memories that refused to fade. Their relationship hadn’t lasted long, but had been intense enough to burn indelible pictures into her brain.
Without a thought, she’d screamed for him when the break-in occurred. She’d wanted to fly into his arms when he’d shown up. If she let her guard down he’d be back in her bed. All he had to do was look at her and her body tingled in all the places he used to touch with such skill.
Her mother used to tell her life wouldn’t give her more than she could handle. But her mother hadn’t lived long enough to meet Joe.
Michael opened his eyes and gave her a big toothless smile that never failed to warm her heart. Still sitting on the edge of the mattress, she leaned over the playpen tucked between her bed and the wall. “Hi there, sweetheart. Did you have a good sleep?”
He gurgled and tried to roll over, a maneuver he hadn’t quite mastered. Nikki picked him up and gave him a hug, nuzzling into his soft neck.
She scooted back onto the bed and lay him on the mattress beside her. Leaning over him, she said, “You know what? You don’t smell so fresh. Let’s get you cleaned up before you eat.”
She heard a click and looked over her shoulder.
“Good morning.” Joe stood in her open doorway.
A door she’d locked last night. The small feeling of security and seclusion the door afforded evaporated. She had come home hoping for sanctuary. Instead she was living with an enemy who lacked scruples when it came to her privacy.
He was freshly shaved and dressed, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder, his hair still wet from the shower. Aside from the holster strapped to his left shoulder, he looked good enough to eat.
She swallowed hard at the thought, remembering how he would taste and smell if she buried her nose in the spot just under his ear.
She tried to convince herself that the ripples of lust rolling through her body were caused by nothing more than an over-abundance of postnatal hormones. That had to be the reason, given the fact that she hated the man.
“What do you want?” she snapped, her voice harsh. The unwelcome memories that assailed her made her furious. How could he bring her treacherous body alive by just standing in her bedroom doorway?
His bland expression didn’t change. “I’ll be gone for about two hours. Stay in, keep the cordless phone with you, and call 911 if you hear any noises you don’t recognize. I’ve got a black-and-white unit patrolling the block.”
At least there would be police in the neighborhood. Her cordless phone was useless. Her vulnerability to both Joe and the assailants made her angry.
“Get out.” She turned back to the baby, who was studying his hand as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.
As soon as he left, she was leaving herself. She had an appointment with the attorney.
“I’m concerned about my son’s safety.” His tone was cold. “Stop acting like a spoiled child.”
My son. He sounded so possessive it frightened her. What if he did try to take Michael away from her? “I want you to get out.”
“I don’t care what you want.” He cut her off. “Michael’s safety is my only interest here.”
His only interest. Nikki felt an irrational sting of emotion that she wasn’t included in his concern, then chided herself for even noticing. She took a deep breath. “I don’t—”
Rudely Joe raised his hand and cut her off again, infuriating her.
They stared at each other for several heartbeats before Joe spoke. “You didn’t answer my question last night. Who knew you were coming back?”
She hesitated for a long moment before she spoke. Lord, she wanted to ignore him, but she knew he wouldn’t go away until he got the answers he wanted. The man had the tenacity of a pit bull.
“My father’s attorney. He contacted a federal judge to obtain permission from the court so I could stay here. I don’t know which judge.”
“Why did you come back?” he asked, his accusing tone making her feel like one of his suspects.
She refused to tell him anything about her personal life. He didn’t need to know how very vulnerable she was right now.
“To tie up some loose ends.” Michael squirmed and stuck out his lower lip, then began to suck on his fist. She knew the signs of hunger. He’d be wailing in a minute.
“What loose ends?” He stared at her intently.
“What I do is none of your business,” she spit back at him. He reminded her of a predator looking for signs of weakness.
He opened his mouth to ask another question and Nikki put her hands up, signaling an end to their conversation. “I need to change the baby’s diaper and feed him. I thought you said you were leaving.”
He shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep the doors locked.” He said, ignoring her demand that he not return.
Why did he want her to lock the doors, she thought sourly. Locks didn’t keep the housebreakers out last night or Joe out this morning. She reasoned she was safer leaving for her appointment than she was staying home.
Agreeing to nothing, she said, “Close the door.”
She turned her back on him and busied herself unzipping the baby’s sleeper.
Behind her the door closed and she fought down the irrational urge to throw something at it. Damn the man. He could bring out the worst in her without even breaking a sweat.
After changing and nursing her son, she put the sleepy baby back to bed. He’d nap for at least an hour, giving her a chance to get ready.
Nikki took a shower and dressed for the day in a blue silk business suit two years out of date. It was the best she could do. Her wardrobe was the last thing she could afford to spend money on now.
She gave herself a critical once-over in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. The skirt length was wrong, but the fabric was quality and the lines classic, even though the skirt hung loosely and the jacket fit too tightly over her fuller breasts.
She knew the value of a professional appearance. She had too much pride to go to her father’s attorney, Fielder Carey, looking desperate. She could only hope he would agree to help her without asking for a retainer.
The Walker family’s credit rating had slipped so far she had her doubts he would agree to delayed payment.
For good measure she damned Joe again for further complicating her life as she headed down the stairs. Even without him she already had as much on her plate as she could handle.
Needing coffee and something to eat, Nikki went through the dining room and butler’s pantry into the kitchen.
Joe had left her a fresh pot of coffee. The sight of the full carafe brought back bittersweet memories of a year ago. Of coming downstairs when Joe had spent the night to find fresh coffee, a note, and sometimes a flower from the garden.
Usually he’d left for work before she’d awakened. He knew how she struggled to wake up in the mornings and always made sure he left coffee waiting.
His thoughtfulness about little things had drawn her to him. She’d been so needy, feeling frightened, deserted and unloved at her father’s disappearance. She’d clung to him like a fool, too desperate to see he was using her to get to her father.
In those few weeks she’d thought she’d fallen in love with him. Emotions threatened to swamp her, and she reached to turn on the television and drown them out.
The audio came on first with a description of a home invasion robbery. Legs shaking, she slid onto a stool at the counter. As the screen resolved into a clear picture of her home, she put her head down on the counter and tried not to cry, longing for the anonymity of the small town in Canada where she’d lived with her aunt and awaited Michael’s birth.
Nikki lifted her head and stared at the perky bright-eyed newswoman intent on bringing everyone up to date on current events, as well as handing out reminders of last year’s scandal.
It was like having someone tear the scab off a half-healed wound.
The nightmare was never going to go away. Naively she’d hoped the media would consider the break-in last night too trivial to air, and the murder, the missing M. Raymond Walker and his millions old news, not worth a mention.
So much for quietly returning home. This latest incident would only make it harder to convince the court she knew nothing about her father’s disappearance.
Nikki laid her head back down on the counter, fighting the urge to go back upstairs, crawl into bed and pull the covers up over her head.
Chapter 3
Nikki left the stroller in a corner and stood in the reception area of the law firm of Richards, Carey and White. She held Michael and took slow deep breaths to settle the flutter of nerves in her midsection.
She’d been in contact with Mr. Carey during the past year, but she hadn’t told him about the baby.
Michael’s coos sounded loud in the hushed atmosphere of rich walnut paneling, leather chairs and Oriental rugs. She shifted her infant son to cover the spot on her jacket where he’d spit up during the bus ride downtown.
Fielder Carey, tall and handsome with silver-gray hair and conservative suit, strode toward her, his step faltering only slightly when his eyes traveled from her face to the baby she held.
“Nikki, dear, it’s so good to see you. I was worried about you after I heard about last night.”
For a startled moment Nikki thought he meant he knew that Joe had moved in. Then she realized he was talking about the break-in.
“Hello Mr. Carey. This is my son, Michael.” The baby chose that particular moment to blow an impressive spit bubble, his latest trick.
A startled, angry look crossed his patrician features, then quickly disappeared as he glanced at Michael. Nikki wasn’t surprised by his reaction.
Being of the same generation, he would hold the same opinions as her father. Unmarried women shouldn’t have babies, and if they made mistakes, they certainly shouldn’t be aired in public.
“I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me about the baby.” The mild censure in his tone made her want to squirm. He was her only ally in this mess.
Having no good answer for him, she mustered up a smile as he took her hand and leaned in to give her a customary peck on the cheek.
“Shall we go back to my office?” He took her arm and managed to smooth out the awkward moment as he guided her down the familiar hallway.
Nikki settled in an armchair, the baby in the crook of her arm.
Carey slid into a massive desk chair done in the same burgundy leather. His desktop was so tidy it looked like a photograph in an ad for upscale office furniture.
Nikki cleared her throat and decided to get right to the point, not sure how much time she had before Michael would need to eat. She couldn’t picture herself unbuttoning her jacket to feed her child in front of the attorney.
“Mr. Carey, thank you for getting me permission to stay at the house. I’m sure you are more aware of my financial situation than I am. I need help, but right now I can’t afford to pay you.”
He shook his head and smiled at her as if she were a slow child. “Nikki, I am your family friend as well as attorney. My fee is not an issue.”
Nikki felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. He might not approve of her, but he wouldn’t abandon her, either. “Thank you. That means a lot to me right now.”
He nodded and didn’t speak for a moment as he repositioned a gold pen on his desk blotter so that it aligned perfectly with a slender matching letter opener. “Before we discuss your situation, have you heard from your father?”
The question took Nikki by surprise. She stared at the attorney, wondering for a brief moment if she had misunderstood his question. A year ago he’d agreed with her that her father was probably dead, a victim of his business partner.
Was Mr. Carey keeping something from her? Her heart raced. Was it possible her father had abandoned her for a fortune in stolen money? She suspected that might hurt more than finding out he really was dead.
She cleared her throat, struggling to maintain a normal tone of voice. “No. I haven’t heard anything. Have you?” She didn’t know whether to be hopeful or angry.
“No. Not directly. But a friend of my nephew Don returned recently from a fishing trip. He saw a man on a small island just south of Martinique who looked so much like your father that he called out to him. The man turned away and disappeared into a crowd before he could talk with him. Don said his friend sounded so sure it was Ray.”
The attorney’s words hung in the air as Nikki battled to grasp the possibility that her father was alive.
If it was true, if her father was alive, why hadn’t he tried to contact her? Would he have thought to look for her in Canada? She’d gone to her mother’s hometown.
Could Joe be right? She lifted Michael to her shoulder and absently patted his back. Had her father decided the money was more important than her, his only child?
She wasn’t sure she could handle that truth.
Tension bunched the muscles between her shoulder blades into a hard knot.
“Nikki, dear, are you all right?” Carey was on his feet, coming around the desk.
“Yes. You took me by surprise.” Nikki waved him back to his chair.
“I’m sorry. I thought you had entertained the possibility…” The attorney’s voice trailed away.
His words mingled with the strains of classical music that drifted quietly out of hidden speakers.
She’d denied the possibility her father was anything but a victim from the beginning. The alternative hurt too much. She wanted to keep on denying, but now it sat like a rock on her chest, making breathing difficult.
Had he murdered his secretary and taken millions from his company, then run off without a word to her?
Carey’s voice droned on and she fought to pay attention.
“It is only a chance. After all, there’s bound to be a false sighting or two after all the publicity. I’m checking it out.”
She grasped at his explanation like a drowning woman would grab a life ring. It hadn’t been her father in Martinique. It must have been someone who resembled her father. He couldn’t steal and murder. And he loved her too much to abandon her.
As much as she wanted to leave and not face the possibility Mr. Carey had just raised, she didn’t have that luxury. She had to think of Michael now.
“Is there a chance we can get the court to separate the house from the Fortuna bankruptcy?” Her great-grandfather had built the home and it had always been in the family, but she’d have to sell it. There was no way she could afford to live there.
“It’s possible, I suppose, but what would be the point?” Carey asked.
Nikki was surprised at his response. “I need to sell it.”
He shot her a sympathetic look. “Nikki. I thought you knew.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself. “Knew what?”
“It’s mortgaged to the hilt. If it wasn’t for the Federal seizure the bank would have sold it months ago. No payment has been made on any of the loans for a year.”
Nikki felt as if she’d taken a blow to her midsection. She managed to get through the rest of the appointment and ask the questions she needed answered about selling off her personal belongings before Michael began whimpering from hunger.
She stood and picked up her bag. “I want to thank you, Mr. Carey. I appreciate all your help.”
Always the gentleman, Carey came to his feet. “I’ll walk you out.”
His phone began to ring. She gestured for him to stay where he was. “I know the way. I’ll be in touch.”
She walked to the reception area and was wrestling with the stroller when the main door to the offices opened and Don Carey, Fielder Carey’s nephew and junior partner, came through the door.
He looked startled to see her, and a strange look passed over his face when he spotted Michael in her arms.
“Nikki, hello!” He recovered his composure and took the stroller from her, snapping it open.
“Hello, Don. How have you been?” A few years ago her father and Fielder had tried very hard to play matchmaker for herself and Don, but there hadn’t been any chemistry between them and the relationship had ended badly when she had refused to date him any longer. Don didn’t take rejection very well.
“Just great. And you? Is this your baby?”
“Yes. This is Michael.”
They stood there awkwardly for a few moments until an unsmiling young woman in a business suit came through the doors after Don and handed him a file, then pointed at her watch as she walked by.
“Well,” he said shifting his weight from one foot to another, “I have a meeting.”
“It was good to see you.” It wasn’t, but Nikki knew she was expected to say something polite, even though she still remembered the ugly things he had said to her at their last meeting. He nodded and held the door for her.
She felt him staring at her as she left the law offices, but she didn’t turn around.
She walked to a nearby bus stop. After she climbed on the bus for the ride home, she settled the baby under a blanket so she could feed him. As he ate she forced herself to think about what she needed to do next. Her situation was even worse than she had thought.
She would have to find a place to live and get a job. According to Carey, she could only sell the things out of the house that had come directly to her from her mother’s estate.
The antiques and sterling should bring in enough to give her a start, but the thought of losing what little she had of her mother made her want to weep.
Nikki felt so torn about her father. She wanted to hope he was alive and well, and at the same time she was hurt beyond telling that he could leave her behind with no word.
Could he have done all the things he was accused of and turned his back on his only child? The possibility was like a deep cut. She knew it would hurt but she kept poking at it anyway.
She stared down at her son, trying to imagine leaving him, knowing she couldn’t, for any reason.
Exhausted by the stressful morning, Nikki struggled down the steps of the city bus at the stop closest to home. Michael in one arm, and the bulky stroller in the other, she ignored the grumbling of the bus driver because she was taking too long to exit.
The lighthearted little jingle played constantly on local radio and television urging everyone to take the bus had failed to mention cranky bus drivers, other passengers who brought imaginary friends with them and patrons who failed to bathe regularly, if at all. She missed her car desperately, but she’d sold it months ago to help pay for Michael’s delivery.
She whacked her elbow on the metal handhold as she lurched off the last step. The bus pulled away from the curb, belching noxious exhaust that enveloped her in an eye-stinging cloud.
She sighed, trying not to feel sorry for herself. She’d better get used to public transportation. After what her father’s attorney had just told her, it would be a long time before she would be able to afford a car. Any car.
Apparently the ride had not bothered Michael at all. He was sound asleep. She clutched him against her shoulder with one hand and struggled to unfold the unruly stroller with the other. Whoever had invented the contraption must have had a sadistic streak.
She finally got the stroller open, settled the baby and started the three block walk home. She blinked and recognized the changes in her vision as the beginning of one of her killer headaches.
Great, she thought as she squinted against the sun. Just what she needed to round out a wonderful morning.
As she pushed the stroller down the quiet residential street she concentrated on her sleeping son through a kaleidoscope of colored lights that always signaled the start of a migraine.
If she hurried home, took her medication and got herself into a dark quiet room quickly enough, she might be able to stop the pain before it blossomed into a full-blown headache.
She’d started having the headaches after she’d arrived in Canada. A doctor had told her they could be stress-related. Alone, pregnant and her father missing, she hadn’t needed an M.D. to figure that out.
Michael sucked contentedly on his fist as he slept. He usually napped during this part of the day, and that would give her a chance to lie down.
The wickedly beautiful colors that had fringed her vision disappeared and the throbbing started across her forehead. One and a half blocks, she chanted to herself. She would be home in one and a half blocks. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
Think of something besides the flare of pain. Think about what you will do tomorrow. She had to contact the man who ran the exclusive antiques shop on West Lewis Street. If Mr. Denny didn’t want to handle her things, he could probably recommend someone else.
She felt like someone had buried a hatchet in her forehead. Tears blurred her eyes so much she stumbled over a uneven spot in the sidewalk. All she had to do was get around the next curve and up her front walk.
Home. King’s X. Ollie, Ollie, in free.
For today, at least, it was her home.
Home and Joe. Dreams of him coming to her bed had awakened her during the night, with her nightgown twisted up and her body drenched in sweat.
Her mind knew she couldn’t trust him, that he was no good for her, but her body refused to get the message.
Just as she came around the corner, she saw Joe’s car in front of her house.
He stood by his car, his hands on his hips, sport coat drawn back so that she could see the weapon strapped under his arm. She wondered vaguely if he had practiced the intimidating pose in front of a mirror. He was very good at it.
“Where did you go?” Chin jutting forward, he had the body language of an angry man.
She squinted up at him, the sunlight unbearably harsh. “For a walk.”
“Do you always dress up in a suit and heels to take the baby for a walk?” He scowled at her clothes.
Nikki ignored him as she walked by and pushed the stroller through the gate and up the long front walk, bumping over the rough flagstones. It was none of his business where she went or who she saw.
Her stomach roiled with nausea. If she stood out here and argued with him she might disgrace herself in the front yard.
She didn’t have to turn around to know he was right behind her. She could hear him breathing.