Sutherland’s Pride (2 page)

“That’s just plain weird.” Gloria shook her head. “Johnny was his grandchild.”

“Daddy was never quite certain I was his daughter.” Pride hid her hurt behind a smile. “Hold still, Johnny.” They stopped before one of downtown Houston’s glass towers and Pride compared the numbers on the door to a paper in her hand. “This is it.”

“He was,” Gloria said. “He just thought he’d found a useful little item to control your mother, that’s all. You look too much like him not to be his daughter.”

Pride nodded and held the big glass door open for her relatives to enter. Alan Donovan had been a handsome man, with green eyes like Pride’s. He had manufactured the idea that his wife had been seeing another man just before she married him, and that Pride was the other man’s child rather than his own.

Pride’s gentle mother had tired at last of trying to out-argue him. During the last years of her life, Mary Donovan hadn’t even tried to deny it when her husband accused her of two-timing him during their engagement.

Pride hadn’t let him get away with it when he’d tried to accuse her of not being his daughter. She challenged him to a DNA test, the results of which would be made public, and he shut up.

“Flynn deserves one more chance, don’t you think?” Gloria urged. “From what you’ve said, he’ll probably never father another child.”

“As far as I’m concerned, Johnny is my child and no one else’s,” Pride stated. “No man is ever going to treat me the way my father treated my mother.”

“Well, he might have changed his mind about things,” Gloria said, in soothing tones. “People do change, you know.”

“I doubt if Flynn has,” Pride said. “Daddy probably went to his grave thinking I’m not really his daughter. I can’t wait to see if he left me the proverbial penny in his will.”

She pushed open another glass door that marked the building’s foyer and urged Tracy to step inside. Gloria followed, leading Eric.

“I hope you know where you’re going,” Gloria said. “I’m a small-town girl. These Houston skyscrapers scare me.”

“They’re definitely no fun during a hurricane,” Pride agreed. “Hold the elevator, please.”

She hurried her cousin and the children onto the elevator, punched the button for the fifteenth floor, and tried to keep Tracy from wandering to the other side of the cubicle.

“I’ll be glad to get back to Lake Charles,” Gloria said.

Pride grinned and agreed. “Johnny Donovan, if you want me to put you down, you’re going to have to hold still until I can.”

The elevator stopped several times. Each time, Tracy tried to step off the elevator, and Pride blocked the little girl.

When the elevator halted at the fifteenth floor, Tracy had finally gotten the idea and refused to exit with her relatives.

“How do people stand living here?” Gloria asked.

“They lead lives of quiet desperation.” Pride laughed at her cousin’s comical grimace.

They marched down the hall, children in tow, until they were certain they were headed in the correct direction.

“Here we are,” Pride said at last. “Suite 1542. Oh, Lord. Be still, my fluttering heart. Flynn’s gotten himself an office.”

Her heart didn’t just flutter. It bounded, bounced and pounded. No wonder Flynn had avoided her at the funeral.

Her feeling of impending fate was right on target. Thank goodness she had paid attention to her intuition and brought Gloria and the children along.

“Flynn? Sutherland?” Gloria stared at the elegant gold letters. “I thought he worked for the family business.”

“Why would Daddy leave his will with Flynn?” Pride wondered aloud. She focused all her attention on the thought and ignored the wild hope roaring through her. “He was a big one on proper appearances. He should have ignored Flynn’s existence.”

Gloria looked helplessly at Pride. “What are you going to do? This has got to be the world’s worst timing. I mean, how do you show a man his son for the first time with your cousin and her three hyperactive youngsters looking on?”

“Are you kidding?” Pride gathered her thoughts and reminded herself not to hope. “Flynn probably believed Daddy and still thinks I had a miscarriage. Not that he’d think my son had anything to do with him, anyway,” she added, for good measure.

Gloria’s mouth tightened. “I’d better stay out here with the children while you go in. He might just surprise you if he doesn’t have an audience.”

“Maybe.” Pride smiled and took firm hold of emotions. “But let’s keep matters interesting. How much would you like to bet that Flynn thinks Johnny is your child rather than mine?”

“You mean you aren’t going to tell him?”

“Why should I? He never made any effort to check on me, so it won’t hurt him to wait until I’m ready before I tell him.” She hoped her smile covered her hurt over that fact. “Tell you what. If I can sit there in Flynn’s office, with Johnny on my lap, without Flynn suspecting anything, you owe me lunch.”

“Pride, I hate to mention this, but Johnny doesn’t look anything like me. He looks more like you, especially since you’ve lightened your hair.”

“He looks a lot like Flynn, actually,” Pride said. “Come on, Gloria. Where are your sporting instincts?”

Gloria regarded Johnny a moment. “Do you honestly believe Flynn is going to think Johnny is my son?”

“Yes.” But inside, Pride prayed he saw the truth.

Gloria lifted her brows. “All right. You’re on. You did say Flynn has dark blond hair, didn’t you?”

“And brown eyes,” Pride supplied. “If Johnny’s eyes were green, I’d start totaling up the cost of our lunch.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to do this.”

“I’m just giving Flynn the opportunity to be his usual single-minded self. If he brings the matter up, then I’ll say something.”

Gloria nodded. “If he’s anything like Johnny, I suppose I can see your point.”

“Johnny takes after Flynn in more than looks,” Pride agreed. “Come on. We’re a few minutes late.”

She glanced down at herself, thankful she wore her navy linen suit. Cool and business-like, that was the ticket. Too bad she hadn’t twisted her hair up in a tight little bun.

Pride, cradling Johnny, shoved open the glass door which bore the legend: Flynn Sutherland, Attorney at Law. Inside, an efficient-looking woman with short brown hair looked up from the brief she was typing and smiled. When she saw the four children, her smile broadened.

“I’m Pride Donovan.” Pride consulted a notebook she produced from her purse. “I have an appointment with the attorney at eleven o’clock.”

“Yes, Miss Donovan. He’s expecting you.” She punched her intercom and announced Pride. “What beautiful children.”

Gloria thanked her as the door to the inner office opened and Flynn Sutherland stepped out.

Pride sucked in air and clutched her son, thankful she had a soft, sweet-smelling warm child to hold while she faced Flynn for the first time in three years. How could Flynn stand there and not realize Johnny was his own son?

“Hello, Pride,” Flynn said. “Come on in.”

He could because when Flynn had an idea in his head, no matter how mistaken, he ignored all clues to the contrary.

Pride detected Gloria’s dawning astonishment and had to bite back a wry smile that hid her own disappointment.

Flynn looked as magnificent as ever. The sight of his tall, broad-shouldered body in the dark-gray business suit still had the power to accelerate her heart and make her shiver with longing. His red tie and white shirt accentuated his tanned skin and sun-bleached hair, hair that had originally been exactly the color of Johnny’s.

His straight, dark brows had drawn together as he studied her, and his brown eyes held a thoughtful look. Pride remembered the merry, teasing expression those dark eyes had once held and squashed another shiver of longing.

Flynn appeared to note the fact that Pride had brought friends. He smiled at Eric, who approached in the fearless manner of a four-year-old boy who had never known anything but love.

“Are all of you with Pride?” Flynn watched Eric, still smiling. “Ms. Ross, will you please send out for refreshments? These children look thirsty.”

“I’m Eric,” Eric announced. “This is my Aunt Pride, and my mother, and this is my sister, Tracy. That’s Johnny, and that’s Sylvia.”

Pride smiled her approval. “That’s very good, Eric. Now tell the nice man your last name.”

That would get Flynn, Pride decided gleefully. Being described as a nice man ought to cut one of Houston’s most eligible bachelors down to a proper size.

“Boudreaux,” Eric supplied.

Flynn, who had always seemed singularly oblivious to his eligibility, knelt to shake Eric’s hand gravely, then he stood and smiled at Gloria.

“You’re Pride’s cousin,” he said. “I’m Flynn Sutherland. Please come in.”

“It might be better if I sit out here with the children while you talk to Pride,” Gloria said. “If you have anything important to discuss, things could get a little distracting.”

“I doubt if Daddy’s will can be classified as important.” Pride winked at Gloria. “You might as well come on in. It’ll be our laugh for the day.”

Flynn said nothing. He stood aside and held the door while Gloria and Pride herded their charges inside his office.

Flynn’s office boasted a comfortable sofa, which Gloria and Pride both settled on, with two children between them and one on each side.

Flynn closed the door and took in the five pairs of expectant brown eyes and the single pair of wary green eyes that focused on him.

“You look like six owls on a wire,” he observed.

“That’s because we’re all so wise,” Pride intoned. With Gloria and the children present, she found herself almost able to deal with him. “Come on, Flynn. Don’t keep us in suspense. We want to know if we can buy our tickets to Bermuda now, or do we have to wait a thousand years, while the penny Daddy left me accrues interest.”

“Your filial respect is impressive,” Flynn said.

“If I had ever developed any filial respect, no doubt it would impress me, too,” Pride said, with equal dryness. “Skip the boring parts and acquaint us with the interesting stuff. The kids want to get outside and play.”

“Hold your horses.” Flynn walked to his desk and perched on the corner of it, studying her. “Let me look at you a minute.”

Pride looked back at him, studying him in the same way he studied her. The past three years hadn’t been as kind to her as they apparently had to Flynn.

“That hair color suits you,” he said, at last. “I like it.”

“Thank you.” Pride firmly squelched the upsurge of pleasure.

“What happened to your freckles?”

“My freckles?” She blinked, surprised. “I think they just faded away. I haven’t been in the sun much these past few years.”

“That will have to be remedied.” Flynn studied her some more. “Are you sure you don’t have them covered with makeup?”

Pride refused to get into a discussion of her makeup. She said nothing and glanced meaningfully at Gloria.

Gloria widened her eyes and gave her shoulders an infinitesimal shrug.

“Hey,” Pride exclaimed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

While she exchanged glances with Gloria, Flynn produced a handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it in a cup of coffee sitting on his desk, then took Pride’s chin in one hand and applied the wet cloth to her nose with the other.

Immediately, an ominous tickle began inside Pride’s nose.

“Mine,” Johnny shouted.

Pride, thoroughly flustered, grabbed for her son as he lunged for Flynn’s hand. Johnny latched onto Flynn’s wrist and entangled his small fingers around Flynn’s gold watchband.

Flynn, startled, paused in his ministrations to Pride’s nose and stared at the little boy clinging to his wrist.

Pride sneezed, a mighty sneeze that rattled her teeth and made her eyes tear.

“Bless you.” Flynn passed her the handkerchief.

“Thanks a heap —
Atchoo
. Now look what you’ve done.
Atchoo
.”

“Mine,” Johnny yelled, louder.

Pride opened watery eyes. Her son danced on the edge of the sofa with both small hands outstretched, pleading at the top of his voice.

Flynn Sutherland backed up carefully and pulled his sleeve down to cover his watch. “I seem to have started something here.”

“You’re right. This is all your fault.” Pride dried her eyes and blew her nose with relish. “Don’t you know better than to wear a mariner’s watch around little children? You should have taken it off as soon as we came in. They were bound to see it.”

“I’m sorry,” Flynn said, looking at Gloria. “I didn’t realize the reaction it would cause.”

Gloria’s mouth opened and closed. She appeared bereft of words.

Pride wadded Flynn’s handkerchief and dried her nose. Thanks to Flynn, the whole world smelled like coffee.

“You can either take it off and put it in your drawer or you can let him play with it while we’re here,” Pride informed Flynn. “Otherwise, you won’t get a bit of business transacted.”

“Give him my watch?” Flynn regarded Johnny doubtfully.

Johnny bounced up and down on the edge of the sofa with both hands outstretched, clearly a child whose life would be forever blighted if he didn’t instantly receive the object of his desire. For once, Pride enjoyed the stubborn streak that would keep her son’s mind fixed on Flynn’s watch until he got it.

“Mine,” he cried. “Mine.”

“No, Johnny, it is not yours,” Pride said. “It belongs to Flynn. What have I told you about things that aren’t yours?”

“Mine,” Johnny reiterated tearfully.

“Do you want me to take you outside and explain the matter further?” Pride asked, in a mother’s rhetorical manner.

Johnny appeared likely to expire of a broken heart at any moment.

“What have you done to him, boss?” Killeen Ross entered and set a tray on Flynn’s desk. “I didn’t know you went in for torturing innocent little kids.”

“It’s the other way around,” Flynn said, over Johnny’s wails.

“He got a glimpse of a forbidden treat,” Pride said, tongue-in-cheek. “We’re lucky the others weren’t sitting where they could see it.”

Flynn glanced at his own wrist. “Why my watch?”

“See all those pretty little flags on the face? Kids love telling time by reading nautical flags.”