Heartfire (33 page)
Authors: Karen Rose Smith
"Even people over sixty might have to take risks to find happiness."
Had Lexa Kittredge taken many risks in her life? He decided to find out more about her. But not now. His aunt was his primary concern. He didn't stand in Lexa's way when she started toward the den to tell Clare she was leaving. He watched the sway of her hips as she walked, and he made up his mind. No, he and Alexandra Kittredge weren't finished yet. Not by a long shot.
***
After Lexa returned to her town house from Clare's apartment Sunday evening, she showered and made herself a salad. Wrapped in a chenille robe, she settled at her computer to skim the news feed. But her mind wasn't on the headlines.
Joshua Flannigan was a force to be reckoned with. But Clare was independent enough to do what she wanted. Lexa felt a deep affection for her. Initially, she'd gotten involved with Clare because she needed something to keep her mind off the ramifications of becoming an adoptive mother. She was worried about Dani. Lexa desperately wanted her sister's child, but right now she was more concerned about her sister.
The phone rang and she decided to let her answering machine monitor it. But when she heard Dani's voice leaving a message, she grabbed the phone on the end table.
"Dani, I'm here." Lexa flicked off the tape recording and asked, "How are you feeling?"
"About the same. The doctor says the nausea will pass in a couple of months. I saw a lawyer."
"And?"
"He doesn't feel there will be any problems as long as we're both sure this is what we want. He said to think about it for another month or so then call him and he'll start the paperwork. Lexa, are you sure you want to adopt? It's too hard to raise a child as a single parent. That's why I..."
Lexa's heart tore as she heard Dani's anguish. At that moment she despised the man who refused to support Dani. "Honey, it's different for me. I have a sound income. I have access to good day care here in Chambersburg. You know, you could do it if you really want to. Dad would help you."
Tears threaded Dani's voice. "I can't do it, Lexa. You're strong. I can't believe how you've done everything on your own without Daddy's money."
"That was my choice. But you can accept his help."
"I don't want to raise a child--not alone. And I can't believe you do."
Lexa had loved and protected Dani since their mother died. "Did you tell Dad yet?"
"No. Not yet. And don't you."
"I won't. But you should tell him soon."
"I will. Eventually. He'll think I should get married to save the family name or something. What a laugh. Marriage is the last thing Rob wants to think about."
"Have you seen him lately?"
"Yes. We argued again. Lexa, I love him but he doesn't want to get married. I told him you're going to adopt the baby. He thinks you're crazy."
Lexa knew exactly what she was doing and crazy didn't enter into it. Because of a bout with endometriosis, she might never be able to have children. The knowledge had plagued her for the last two years. No one knew but her sister. When she learned Dani was pregnant but wanted to give the baby up for adoption, Lexa had jumped at the chance. "I can't tell you how thankful I am you're willing to let me adopt."
"You've always been a terrific big sister even though I've wanted to pull your hair out more than once. And I know you'll make a great mother because you care so much about everyone."
"Hey, you better stop before I get a swelled head." The teasing tone disappeared. "I only want you to do what's right for you. I want you to be happy. Okay?"
"Yeah. I know. And after all we've talked about this, I'm sure it's what I want to do. Do you think you can drive up next weekend? My roommate's going home. You can stay in the dorm. Everybody will be at the football game on Saturday. I have tickets if you want to go."
"Since Penn State's having such a good season, I might consider it," Lexa kidded. "We'll see what the weather's like. You don't want to catch cold."
"Yes, mother."
"I'm sorry."
Dani's sigh came through loud and clear. "It's okay." After a pause, she asked, "What time do you think you can be here Saturday?"
"About eleven-thirty? Twelve?"
"The earlier the better. You're the only one I can talk to right now."
Dani expected Lexa to be around whenever she needed her, and Lexa always was. "I'll get there as soon as I can. Take care. Okay?"
"Will do. See you Saturday."
Lexa put down the cordless phone, wishing she could protect her sister better...more. Not unlike the way Josh wanted to protect his aunt. But Clare was mature. Sixty-three years old. Dani was immature, sometimes irrepressible and rebellious even at twenty-one.
Lexa's thoughts returned to Josh. The brilliance of his blue eyes and the strength of his chin remained vivid in her mind. If things were different, she might want to get to know him better. But getting involved with a man now was out of the question.
Excerpt from NATHAN'S VOW:
Prologue
Don't answer it.
Don't answer it.
Do
not
answer it.
Gillian Moore convinced herself to ignore the intrusive sound of the ringing telephone as the golden L.A. sun swept through her open living room window, along with the balmy June breeze.
Her phone rang a second time.
Plucking the leatherbound volumes from her bookshelf one by one, she dusted them with a soft cloth. She always cleaned and straightened her surroundings when her heart or mind was in turmoil. With a quick glance at the phone on her end table, she knew her mother wouldn't be calling on a Monday evening. Madge Moore called her daughter from Deep River, Indiana every Sunday at exactly seven p.m.
Gillian's phone rang a third time.
She swiped the cloth across the shelf, back and forth. In the three months since she'd relocated to L.A., she hadn't confided in anyone or encouraged close friendships. She needed this respite. She needed to find out whether her "gift" would continue to be the major force in her life or whether she had a right to keep it in the background, maybe even completely under wraps.
Her phone rang a fourth time.
It could only be
him
--the man who had called the past two nights, the man with the compelling voice, tinged with authority, commanding in its intensity as it directed her to return his call. She didn't know what he wanted, but she could guess. Heaven knew how he'd gotten her number because no one in L.A. had it, not even the manager where she worked.
Her answering machine kicked on with her brief direction for the caller to leave a message. Her usually lilting tone was serious and cool. She ran her hand through her long, light brown hair. Maybe she should get it cut short…make yet another change in her life. She'd made so many in moving here--she actually had time to herself...to be out in the sun, ride a bike, take long walks. She'd found peace along with the bright California sun and she wasn't ready to let go of either.
"Ms. Moore. This is Nathan Bradley. Again," he added in a deep, almost censuring baritone. "In case you haven't received my earlier messages, I need to speak with you immediately about a matter of great urgency." He paused. "Ms. Moore, I
must
speak with you. Please return my call." He gave his number slowly, hesitated a moment, then clicked off.
Gillian stopped dusting. He hadn't said "please" in his other messages. This time there was a quiet desperation in his tone. She recognized the emotion because the people she'd helped in the past had all been desperate. Nathan Bradley didn't sound like a man who was accustomed to using the word "please," and the huskiness edging the word made her feel vulnerable and guilty, two of the burdens from which she'd tried to escape.
Now this man had brought them to the surface once more. She
wouldn't
return his call. She deserved unpressured time to think about the direction of her life, to have fun working at something she'd never imagined she'd enjoy. Nathan Bradley could find someone else to solve his problem, someone else with a "gift" that had begun to feel more like a curse.
Chapter One
Nathan didn't want to be caught dead, let alone alive, inside a beauty salon. As he pulled open the glass door and stepped inside, feminine chatter, strange smells, and the glimpse of a woman with her hair rolled in blue and purple curlers was enough to make him decide he'd rather face ten irate CEO's whose firewalls had been breached in one day than to plow into this women's domain. But he'd do anything to find his daughters.
Anything.
Nathan's determination had pulled him out of the poverty of his childhood, earned him a scholarship to college, and pushed him to start his own company specializing in computer security after only a year with another firm. He'd wanted to be his own boss, bill his own hours, set his own standards. His determination couldn't save his marriage, but by God, it would lead him to his daughters. After six months of dead ends, he'd decided money and rational strategies weren't enough. That's why he was here. That's why he had to speak to Gillian Moore.
At his private investigator's insistence, Nathan had agreed to go this route--the only route left as far as Nathan was concerned or he wouldn't pursue it. He wouldn't debate about methods, not even weird ones at this point. He'd used every skill he'd possessed to find his daughters. So had his P.I. Now he had to put his logic and wariness aside if he hoped to find his children before he lost more time with them.
The woman at the desk inside the door smiled as her gaze traveled from his dark brown hair, down his charcoal pinstripe suit and striped silk tie, to his black winged-tip shoes. She tilted her head and her lips curved up a bit more. "Can I help you?"
Suddenly Nathan felt as if he were the center of attention. Two customers on chairs in the room beyond had craned their necks to avidly assess him along with the receptionist. His shirt collar felt tighter, and he resisted the urge to tug down his tie. "I'm looking for Gillian Moore."
"You want a manicure?" the redheaded, perfectly coiffed and made-up receptionist asked with a mischievous smile.
"No. My name is Nathan Bradley. I need to speak with her as soon as possible," he said in his best authoritarian tone. "Is she here?"
"Hold on a sec," the redhead answered, her smile flagging. Disappearing into the room beyond, she reappeared a few moments later. "She's with a client. She says she'll talk to you in five minutes."
Five minutes. What the heck was he supposed to do for five minutes? He spied several magazines in a basket in the corner beside two director's chairs. "Fine. I'll wait."