Adopted: Family in a Million

He’d only wanted to brush her lips with his, but once they touched he felt desire rise.

He wanted more. Susan was willing, and opened her mouth at the first hint from him.

Wrapping her in his arms, he kissed her as he had in the kitchen. Ending the kiss too soon, he rested his forehead against hers. “Thanks again for dinner,” he said.

“Thanks for watching my son,” she replied, her eyes luminescent.

Zack rode the elevator down to the lobby. He wasn’t sure he was going about this the right way. He was beginning to want Susan in a totally different way. And to feel guilty about not telling her of his relationship to Danny. It was becoming complex, when all he’d started out to do was catch a glimpse of his son. Now he knew him—knew he was happy and thriving.

Susan had been unexpected—as were the growing emotions and attachment he was feeling for her. How would she take learning he was Danny’s biological father? Would she send him packing? Become distant but allow him to continue visiting with them?

Or was she beginning to feel something more for him, as he was for her? Could it lead to marriage?

Or would telling her end everything?

Barbara McMahon was born and raised in the South USA, but settled in California after spending a year flying around the world for an international airline. After settling down to raise a family and work for a computer firm, she began writing when her children started school. Now, feeling fortunate in being able to realise a long-held dream of quitting her ‘day job’ and writing full-time, she and her husband have moved to the Sierra Nevada mountains of California, where she finds her desire to write is stronger than ever. With the beauty of the mountains visible from her windows, and the pace of life slower than the hectic San Francisco Bay Area where they previously resided, she finds more time than ever to think up stories and characters and share them with others through writing. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at PO Box 977, Pioneer, CA 95666-0977, USA. Readers can also contact Barbara at her website: www.barbaramcmahon.com

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Greek Boss, Dream Proposal August 2009

BY

BARBARA McMAHON

To my dear friend Carolyn Samuels.

Here’s to fun in the sun

and happy memories of days gone by.

PROLOGUE

November

“I HAVE a son.” Zack said the words aloud. The reality wasn’t there. The pain was. He tried to focus on the revelation in the letter and ignore the injuries that had landed him in the hospital with months of healing and physical therapy ahead before he was fit again. Shifting slightly, he reread the letter.

The letter was dated three months ago. Why had it taken so long to reach him? Being on a remote building site in the middle of a Middle Eastern desert probably had a lot to do with it.

Did it matter? What if it had arrived shortly after it had been posted, he would have still been in shock. Would it have changed anything? Would he have been on the phone asking questions instead of being in the vicinity of that land mine?

“I have a son and his name is Daniel,” he repeated softly.

“Did you say something?” A nurse poked her head into the room. “Everything okay? Need more painkiller?”

“I’m okay,” he said, impatient with the interruption. He wanted to read the letter again. Try to understand.

He couldn’t take it in. Alesia Blair had been his steady girlfriend the last time he had been Stateside on leave. They’d had a great few months together, until he had accepted another overseas assignment. There had been no great love between them, but he had enjoyed taking her places where others had admired her beauty. To think of her as dead was hard. She’d relished life.

But she’d never contacted him after he had left. Not even to tell him about their son.

He was grateful to her sister, Brittany, however, for letting him know, however delinquent the notice. She explained she had been against her sister’s decision to keep quiet about the baby. A child should know his father. She’d wrestled with the situation after Alesia’s death and finally decided to write to him, telling him what she knew. He’d railed against fate for Alesia’s silence. How could she not have told him five years ago she was carrying his child?

At least he had the opportunity and means to locate the boy, his only living relative. That thought was amazing. He’d accepted years ago that he’d probably spend his life alone. He had friends, but no one close. His formative years had been in a series of foster homes. Moving from place to place had taught him not to form attachments. Nothing lasted beyond the next move. His job did nothing to change that as an adult. He was a nomad, no home, no family.

Zack had no idea when he had left the United States almost five years ago that Alesia had been pregnant. They had used precautions. She had never contacted him. At first he thought she might. But his job assignment had been for two years. Alesia had been a fun-loving, party girl. Two years waiting for a man was not her style. Yet the pregnancy would have changed all that.

She should have told him. Why hadn’t she?

Her sister’s letter also informed him of Alesia’s death. For that he was truly sorry. She had been pretty and vivacious and fun. Which was probably the reason she’d given their son up for adoption. A baby would have definitely cramped her style.

But I could have taken him. The thought came out of nowhere. Zack didn’t know the first thing about children. He was thirty-four years old and had never seriously thought about getting married or having a family.

His job was not exactly conducive to a happy family—gone two years at a time to inhospitable locales where they fought to bring modern roads and bridges and dams to countries that had progressed little from the beginning of time.

Lying back on the pillows, he tried to imagine his son. The boy would be four now. Zack couldn’t remember back to when he had been four. He had already been placed in his first foster home by that age. There had been other children there, but his memories were hazy. What was a four-year-old like?

That led to wondering what the family who had adopted his son was like. Did they think his father had abandoned him? Did they know Zack had not even known of his son’s existence until he’d received this letter a few hours ago?

He had an overwhelming urge to find his son. See him. Make sure he was happy and well cared for. Even in the foster care system, bad things happened to children. Did adopted families have regular visits from Social Services to make sure the child was being properly looked after? Was Daniel happy and secure in the family that was raising him?

Zack was scheduled to be sent back to the States next week—if he continued to improve. The surgeries had drained him of all energy. He was fighting to recover. But it would be several months before he could return to work. Just maybe he’d have time to find his son to make sure he was all right. To see what he and Alesia had produced.

Did Daniel have dark hair like his, or was it lighter like Alesia’s blond hair? Was he fearful or brave? Adoptions were usually confidential. Did he really have any hope in the world of finding the child he’d fathered?

He picked up the paper and pen the nurse had provided. The least he could do was thank Brittany for letting him know. It had been the right thing to do. And just maybe, it had given him even more reason for getting fit again as soon as possible. He had a son to find.

April

“Here’s the final report.” Ben Abercrombie slid the folder across the desk. “I know it took longer than originally anticipated, but you know adoption records are hard to access. Here’s what I found out. Your son was adopted by T. J. and Susan Johnson of New York City. I’ve located Mrs. Johnson, the husband has since died. Killed by a drunk driver two years ago.”

Zack Morgan reached out for the folder and flipped it open. The first thing he saw was a picture of a small child. It was not a close up, but he could tell the boy had dark hair. He looked so little. Was he small for his age? Zack had no idea how big four-year-olds should be.

Ben frowned as he glanced at the paperwork. “So how did you want this handled? Just show up one day and ask to meet your son?”

Zack shook his head. “Despite what you may think, I have some feelings for the child and the situation. The last thing I would do is give any reason to rock his security.” He thought briefly of the different families he’d lived with. He never knew how long he’d stay. He couldn’t imagine deliberately causing that kind of panic and uncertainty to anyone, much less a little boy.

“I just want to know he’s okay. That he’s loved and the family life he has is good.”

The detective leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands. “Mother appears to be doing the best she can. It was a comedown from the lifestyle they enjoyed when the husband was alive. He was an attorney and made a good income. Since his death, they’ve moved to a less affluent neighborhood. She’s gone back to work. Still, from what I could see, the mother takes good care of the child and he seems happy enough. Quiet, not as boisterous as other little kids I’ve seen. But, hey, everyone has a different personality.”

“But he’s got a good mother, right?” Zack couldn’t remember his own mother. The best foster mom had been Allie Zumwalt. He hoped Daniel had a mother as sweet as Allie.

Ben nodded. “Doing the best she can.”

“What do you mean by that?” Zack asked quickly.

“She has to work, leaves the child with an older woman in their building. The apartment building is old, a bit run-down. The neighborhood’s not the best place to be after dark.”

“Should they move?”

“Takes money to live where they did before. New York’s not a cheap city.”

The one thing Zack had was money. He spent little, had amassed a small fortune working overseas with the extra hardship pay. Judicial investments had the money growing steadily. The detective had delivered, and the cost had been nothing Zack wouldn’t have paid three times over or more to find out about his son.

He looked at the photograph again. Would he recognize the child if he tripped over him in a crowd somewhere? Shouldn’t there be some kind of tie between biological parents and children? Some sort of instant connection? To Zack, there was nothing but wonder that he could have fathered this little boy.

Railing silently against Alesia once again, he closed the folder and stood. “Thank you,” he said, offering his hand.

“I’ll be here if you want anything else,” the detective said.

Zack carried the folder out with him. He was staying in a small hotel near Central Park while he finished recuperating. He could walk without the limp as long as he didn’t overdo it. His shoulder was still stiff. Maybe he needed to get back to work to loosen those muscles. But he was on medical leave and still doing his physical therapy routine each day.

When he reached his room, he settled down to read every word in the report the detective had compiled. Even if he never got to meet him, Zack knew he’d left a legacy to the future. Thinking about it, he could do more. On Monday, he’d make an appointment with an attorney to leave his estate to his son. They may never meet, but someday Daniel would know his father had cared about him.

CHAPTER ONE

SUSAN JOHNSON was frantic. She could scarcely think as she rushed down the crowded New York sidewalk, dodging pedestrians, searching for her son. How could one small boy disappear so quickly. Why wasn’t someone looking for his mother? When she found him, she’d never let him out of her sight again!

Of course that was impossible, but she was so scared she couldn’t think straight. Where was Danny?

“Please, God, let me find my baby,” she prayed as she searched the crowded sidewalk in front of her.

“Do you think he’d try to cross the street alone?” the teacher’s aide next to her asked, already puffing slightly from the fast pace Susan set.

“No. I don’t know. If he thought he saw his father across the street he might, though I’m always careful to make sure we stop and look both ways even when the light is green. But he’s only four.” And always after tall dark haired men thinking they were his daddy. Ever since Tom had died, Danny had been searching. Children his age didn’t understand death, she’d been told.

How could the preschool have let him get away? The play yard was fenced and the front gate should have either been latched so a little child couldn’t open it, or monitored by an adult. Had the teacher turned her back? For how long? Where was Danny?

Were they going in the wrong direction? Had he turned right when exiting the preschool? Or left? She’d opted for left because it was in the direction of their apartment. Familiar territory to a little boy. But what if he’d gone the other way? If he’d darted out to follow some stranger, he wouldn’t have cared for direction—only his goal to find his father. She could be increasing the distance between them, not closing it. Panic closed her throat. Fear seized her heart. Her precious son was out on the streets of NewYork and could get into who knew what kind of trouble.

Susan stopped and looked ahead, then behind her. Indecision. Seconds were ticking by. Where was her child? Fear increased. New York was a dangerous city. And her son was adorable. What if someone snatched him up? What if she never saw him again?

She moaned softly at the thought.

Her child was missing. Was there anything worse for a parent to face?

“What?” the aide asked.

“I’m thinking he could have gone the other way. Tell me again how long ago it was until you noticed he was missing?” Susan had been given all that information when she had arrived at the preschool. But she’d scarcely listened, dashing out to try to find her son.

“Less than five minutes before you showed up. Mrs. Savalack was busy with the little boy who had a bloody nose. She didn’t know Danny would leave before you arrived. She went the other direction as soon as one of the other teachers came to watch her children. She’ll find him if he went that way.”

“Maybe,” Susan said, her eyes searching. She didn’t see a child anywhere.

Glancing around, she noticed a man walking slowly along the street. He looked out of place in the midday crowd—ambling along when everyone else was walking briskly, with places to go. Tall, with dark hair and a deep tan, he looked competent and reliable. His casual attire blended in with the men and women on the sidewalk at the lunch hour, but were of higher quality than the cheaper clothing more common in this neighborhood. What a stupid thing to notice, she thought as she approached him.

“Excuse me. Have you seen a little boy? He’s four and should not be out on his own. We don’t know if he came this way, but we need to find him!”

He shook his head. “I haven’t seen any kids. Wouldn’t they be in school at this time of day?”

“He’s in a preschool and wandered away.” Susan bit her lip, her heart pounded, fear increasing with every heartbeat. “Maybe I’m going the wrong way.”

“Which way is that?” he asked, glancing at the aide and then scanning the sidewalk behind him.

“No one saw him leave, so we didn’t know if he came this way or went the other way. The preschool is back there.” She pointed to a small building at the end of the block. “I just hope he didn’t try to cross the street.” The traffic was lighter than midtown, but still heavy. A small boy might be overlooked by a motorist in a hurry—until it was too late.

“Someone would have stopped a small boy from dashing into danger,” the man said. He glanced at the aide. “Is someone looking in the other direction?”

“Yes, the teacher.” She glanced back up the street. “I don’t see her, so I guess she hasn’t found Danny.”

“Danny?” the man asked, his voice odd.

Susan looked at him, her eyes holding appeal. “My son, Danny. He’s missing. I’ve got to find him. Oh Lord, I can’t lose him, too!”

“I’ll help look. Name’s Zack Morgan. Where did you lose him?”

“I didn’t lose him. He left his preschool without an adult. I can’t believe he’s run off like this. New York is so dangerous for a little child if someone isn’t right there with him every minute.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Mrs. Johnson,” the aide said, her worried expression belying her words.

“We’ll find him,” Zack said.

“Unless someone’s taken him,” Susan said, voicing her worst fear. What if someone had kidnapped her son? She swayed with horror at the thought. Zack reached out and took her arm gently, seeming to give her strength.

“No one’s taken him in this direction. I’ve been on this street for several blocks. No little boy. And I’m sure no one would let him cross the street by himself, so let’s try the other direction.” His reasonable tone calmed her.

“Okay.” For a split second she felt as if the burden had lifted slightly and been placed on the broad shoulders of the stranger who held her arm.

She swallowed and turned, wanting to race the wind to find her son. He was so precious to her. He could not have been taken. He was just searching for Tom.

Less than five minutes later they saw Mrs. Savalack heading toward them, Danny’s hand firmly held in hers.

Susan burst into tears and raced to her son. “Danny, you scared me to death.” She swooped him up in her arms, hugging him tightly, her heart still pounding. “Don’t ever run off like that again.”

He struggled a bit with Susan’s tight hold, and she set him on his feet, taking his hand firmly in hers. “You know you are not to leave the school until I get there.”

“I thought I saw Daddy.” He looked sad. “But it wasn’t him.”

Susan reached out and brought Danny’s face round to face hers. “Your daddy died. He’s gone to heaven. You will not find him on this earth. Honey, he loved you, but he’s gone.”

“No! I want my daddy!” Danny stuck his lower lip out and glared at his mother.

The stranger stooped down until he was Danny’s level.

“Hi,” he said.

Danny looked at him warily, pout still in evidence.

“You should mind your mother,” Zack said gently. “She was scared you’d get hurt or lost.” He reached out and brushed Danny’s dark hair off his forehead.

“I thought I saw my daddy,” Danny repeated.

Susan wiped the tears from her cheeks and tried to smile at Zack. “He’s got this fixation in his head that my husband is just gone out. Every time he sees a man who looks the slightest bit like Tom, he’s running after him. He hasn’t done this in a long while and I’d hoped he’d stopped by now. Thanks for your help. I’m Susan Johnson. This is my son, Danny. I appreciate your concern.”

Zack rose and nodded. “You two take care now.”

He turned and walked away, when every cell in his body screamed to stay. He’d actually touched his son. Met his adopted mother. Been scared for a few moments that Susan Johnson’s fear would turn into reality.

It had been a quirky idea to wander by the preschool the detective had listed in his report. Zack had had no idea whether the playground could be seen from the street. Or if he’d recognize his son among a few dozen playing children. Fate had stepped in and he had actually spoken to his son.

He had thought that seeing Daniel from a distance would suffice. Now that he’d actually met him, he wanted to know even more about him. He was adorable. His eyes were brown and his hair a darker brown. He seemed small, but so did the other children Zack glimpsed in the playground. Daniel obviously missed his father. The report said Tom Johnson had died two years ago, which meant Danny had been grieving for two years. A long time for a child. Wasn’t he happy with his mother?

Wanting to think about the encounter, Zack walked a few more blocks until he found a coffee house. Ordering a hot drink, he sat at a table near the window and gazed outside, his thoughts back with the boy he’d just met. And his mother.

There had been no photo of Susan in the report. She looked younger than he expected. And tired. She was thin like Alesia had been. But where Alesia had always worn trendy, stylish clothing, Susan’s looked plain and serviceable. Her hair had been pulled back and she wore a minimum of makeup. The appeal in her eyes when she asked if he’d seen her son had touched him. He could tell she loved the boy.

For some reason, Zack felt a need to do something for her as well. It couldn’t be easy raising a child alone. She had no relatives close by. According to the detective, her parents lived in Florida. Her mother worked in a travel agency and her father was in frail health. The warmer climate was a necessity for his well-being in winter months.

Her dead husband had been the only child of an older couple. His mother had moved west to be with her sister when her husband had died before Tom and Susan were married. She now resided in an assisted care home in California.

There had been little insurance money; the man had been younger than Zack was now when he had died. They must have thought they had their entire future together. Neither had known two years after adopting Danny that Tom Johnson would be dead.

Would they still have gone through with the adoption?

Zack felt funny knowing so much about Susan Johnson and her family history. She didn’t know him at all except as a stranger stopping to help for a few minutes. Yet he wanted to know about her, to assure himself his son was getting the best of everything. And with the dearth of money in her life, was that possible?

Maybe he could set up a blind trust to make sure they had enough money. Would Susan accept? The character sketch the detective had done indicated she probably would not. She seemed big on independence. She hadn’t applied for any aid. She’d quickly moved from the apartment she and her husband shared in Manhattan to one more affordable in Brooklyn. Even returned to work when she’d obviously planned to stay home with Danny if the first two years of his life were any indication.

He sipped his coffee and wondered what he could do. Maybe the best thing would be to leave mother and son alone. Danny looked healthy. His clothes had been neat and clean. He obviously missed his father, but he was well cared for.

For a moment Zack wondered what it would be like to be a father to a child. He’d have to change his job, quit the nomadic life he’d enjoyed the last decade and put down roots. Get a job that would allow him to be home evenings, attend school events.

Would he grow bored? Long for faraway lands?

Slowly Zack smiled. Danny was a cute kid. His dark hair probably came from him. And his brown eyes. Did he look at all like Alesia? With soft baby cheeks, it was hard to tell. He wished he had some baby pictures of himself. Maybe he could see a resemblance to himself at that age.

He finished his coffee and rose. He’d walk by their apartment and then return to his hotel. It would be enough to know where they lived. Then he had to think about what he wanted to do for the rest of his medical leave. Walking had been strongly recommended, as had light exercise in addition to the P.T. he was doing. He had an entire schedule for the next couple of months tacked to the mirror in the bathroom. By then he should be ready to return to the Middle East and work.