His Daddy's Eyes Page 10

  In an instant something changed. His eyes narrowed as if he didn’t recognize her—or maybe he recognized something in her she couldn’t hide. He closed the distance between them. The lamplight cast his face into relief. His eyes—Brady’s eyes—looked more black than blue as they stared at her.

  Hesitantly, he extended his hand, bringing the palm to her face, cupping her cheek and jaw. Sara tried to make herself move away, but there was something so warm, so nurturing in his touch that she tilted her head against his palm. The scent of warm skin mingled with a trace of cologne from his bed—a scent she’d noticed from that first evening when he’d lifted Brady from her arms.

  The instant Sara sensed him moving closer, she pulled back in panic. His eyes were hooded, his lips slightly parted. Sara knew he intended to kiss her. She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t…

  Ren’s hand gently tilted her chin. His head lowered, lips touching hers. Not tentatively, as she expected, but squarely, as if returning to a familiar book at the exact place he’d left off. Despite her prudent mind crying otherwise, Sara closed her eyes and absorbed the feel of his soft, persuasive warmth. His fingers stroked the lobe of her ear, the side of her neck. She liked his touch, his kiss.

  Where it might have led, Sara didn’t dare guess. Fortunately, a ringing sound in the distance brought her back to her senses. She pulled away. “Your phone is ringing,” she said, grateful to find her voice still functioning, since her mind obviously wasn’t.

  Ren eyed the silent cordless phone beside his bed skeptically, then tapped his forehead. “I turned off the ringer the other day.” He cocked his head to listen. Below them an angry woman’s voice was blaring from an answering machine. “Lawrence, are you there? Pick up the phone.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  REN SNATCHED UP the portable receiver and walked to the glass door that opened to his private deck. I kissed Sara. “I’m here, Mother. Just walked in the door. Can I call you back? I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

  An angry huffing sound foretold Babe’s frame of mind. “Don’t you dare hang up on me. I want to know what’s going on with your health. Good Lord, Lawrence, are you ill? How serious is it?”

  Ren leaned his forehead against the cool glass. Why? Why did I kiss her? As if this damn thing isn’t complicated enough! “Mother, I’m fine. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  “No,” Babe shrieked. “I just spoke with Eve, and she was very upset. She said we couldn’t set a date for your wedding until you cleared it with your doctor. What does that mean, Lawrence?”

  Ren blew out a long sigh that left a foggy mark on the glass. Behind him, he heard Sara moving about. He turned and saw her carefully folding the blanket he’d used to cover Brady. “I feel great, Mom, really. Believe me, there’s nothing wrong with my health.” My mind is a little screwed up, but…He tuned out his mother’s reply when he saw Sara bend over to pick up Brady. The image caught him mid-chest, and he felt a sudden, unreasonable urge to wrap them both in his arms and beg Sara to stay.

  He covered the receiver. “Wait. Please. We need to talk.”

  “Are you listening to me?” his mother wailed.

  Ren held the phone back a few inches. “Along with all the neighbors,” he told her.

  The sympathetic look in Sara’s eyes made him smile. A mistake. She suddenly hefted Brady to her shoulder and turned away. He followed as she walked toward the door. “Please wait.”

  His mother let out a cry of frustration. “Lawrence, are you listening to me? Is someone there? Is it Bo? It’s Bo, isn’t it. I should have known.”

  Ren looked to the ceiling. “No, Mother, it’s not Bo. But I do have company and I have to go. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Lunch at Fats?” he asked, naming her favorite restaurant.

  “Well, all right. One o’clock. Don’t be late.” The moment she hung up, Ren pitched the phone toward his bed and raced after Sara. He had no idea what to say, but he needed to make amends. He knew she didn’t trust him, had little reason to like him and was fearful of his motives. What that unplanned, unprovoked kiss was all about, he didn’t have a clue, but he had to make her understand he wasn’t some sort of lunatic who made a habit of lusting after women he barely knew. Jeez, first her sister, now Sara.

  You are an idiot, Bishop, he silently groaned.

  SARA REPOSITIONED BRADY against her shoulder before starting down the stairs. She’d stayed in the bedroom as long as she could, but the shrill sound of his mother’s voice—just the tone and pitch were enough to produce an unpleasant sensation in her gut—had made her snatch up Brady.

  Sara’s mother had died the summer after Sara graduated from high school. Audra Carsten had been a dynamic personality, even when she was reduced to tugging around oxygen. Sara remembered her as the kind of mother who could be loving and concerned one moment, raging and cruel the next—depending on her level of intoxication. Angry voices brought back memories Sara went out of her way to avoid.

  When Ren had noticed her leaving, he’d quickly moved from the window and mouthed Wait.

  Focusing on his lips had been even more unnerving than the sound of his mother’s anger. He kissed me. I let him kiss me. What was I thinking? I should never have come here in the first place, she told herself. She thought she heard Ren set a date to meet his mother, and a part of her heart felt sorry for him.

  As she began to descend the stairs, Brady shifted restlessly, knocking her slightly off balance. She grabbed the railing with her free hand, but her hip collided with the newel. She let out a soft “Ouch.”

  “Why don’t you let me carry him down for you,” Ren said, coming up behind her.

  She shook her head. “I can do it. I carry him all day long.”

  Centering Brady’s weight as much as possible, she slowly and carefully descended. The arm that supported the bulk of his weight was quivering by the time she reached the black-and-white marble squares of the foyer.

  Ren hovered like a mother hen the whole way down, making Sara more nervous than she already was. He let out a big sigh when they reached the foyer. “I’ll walk you to the car, but let me get a flashlight first. Those paving stones out front are tricky at night.”

  Sara was independent but not foolish. “Okay.”

  While she waited by the front door, she studied the green-and-red lights of the alarm. “Fink,” she muttered, just as she heard the clip of Ren’s shoes on the floor.

  He waved the flashlight triumphantly, then leaned past her to open the door. “Whoa, that breeze turned cold. Do you want to borrow a jacket?” His nearness and smell made her heart flip-flop.

  Sara shook her head, desperate to put as much distance between her and Ren Bishop as possible. Drawing on Brady’s warmth, she hurried to the car, grateful for the beam of light Ren kept trained ahead of her. She maneuvered Brady into his car seat, then pulled his soft, much-loved blanket from his backpack. She tucked it around him and kissed his forehead. His breath, warm and sweet, smelling faintly of bubblegum—his favorite toothpaste flavor—brought tears to her eyes. She loved being his mother. It would kill her to lose him. She had to make Ren Bishop understand that.

  Taking a deep breath, she straightened and turned to face her enemy—the man whose kiss had opened doors inside her she hadn’t known existed. No matter how wonderful it had felt, she wasn’t about to let it happen again.

  “I came here for a reason,” she said, drawing strength from her fear. “My friends and I are prepared to fight to the death—I hope it won’t come to that, but you need to know how I feel about this.”

  A gust of wind zipped under her skirt, making her shiver.

  “You’re cold. Let’s go inside,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No. I’m exhausted. I have to go home, but I want to tell you something first,” she said stubbornly.

  He placed the flashlight between his knees and shrugged out of his suit jacket, then draped it over Sara’s shoulders. Its warmth and subtle scent enveloped her. The gallantry
of the gesture touched her.

  “Thank you,” she said in a small voice, hoping her emotions weren’t broadcast on her face.

  “I apologize for making you wait. When my mother gets going, sometimes it’s best just to let her rant. I think that’s why she doesn’t have high blood pressure.”

  “And you do,” Sara said softly, covertly rolling her shoulders against the silky lining of the coat.

  He cocked his head to one side. “How do you know that?”

  “I saw the prescription on your bedside table. A friend of mine used to take the same thing. You know, it’s not safe to leave pills sitting out with children around.”

  “I didn’t know Brady was going to be around, but I’ll be sure to keep them in the medicine cabinet from now on. I don’t actually take them,” he added.

  She blinked. “You just keep them there for appearance?”

  His quick smile made her inch back. He was just too darn handsome for someone as vulnerable as she was at the moment. “Hypertension runs in my family. My blood pressure was a little high after my father passed away.”

  Sara, who witnessed her own mother’s painful death, wanted to reach out to touch his forearm, but she kept her hands in her pockets and waited for him to speak again.

  Ren was silent for a moment, then in a low serious voice he said, “Sara, about what happened upstairs. I apologize. It was unprofessional and…not very smart, given what we’ll be dealing with in the future. Do you think we can put it behind us?”

  Even though Sara agreed with him, perversely, his apology struck her as too lawyer-like. “Is that how it happened with my sister?” she said without thinking. “Just a quick kiss, then wham, bam, you’re in bed?”

  He stepped back as if slapped. In the light from the street lamp she saw a stark, judicial mask settle over his features. The narrow squint of his eyes reminded her of Brady’s reaction when scolded. On a toddler it was cute; on Ren Bishop it was intimidating.

  Instead of scurrying to her car, Sara screwed up her courage and said, “That is, if anything actually happened between you. I only have your word that you even met her. And until you prove otherwise, I won’t agree to a paternity test. Period. That’s what I came to tell you.”

  His face changed, but Sara couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She thought she read disappointment, not anger.

  “I can get you an affidavit from a hotel clerk who saw us at the lodge, and I can subpoena the hotel’s records.”

  Court words. Lawyer-speak. Sara’s old antipathy surged. “Can you find a witness who saw you make love to her? Someone from the room next door who will testify that she called out your name on climax?” She snorted facetiously. “You probably could—I’ve heard money’s even better for the memory than ginkgo biloba.”

  Her anger obviously took him by surprise, but he didn’t back down. “No, I can’t. All you have is my word.”

  “And because you’re a judge, I’m supposed to believe you. I’m supposed to listen to what you say and hear what’s in your heart and make a decision that might affect the rest of your life, right?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “Then I guess that makes me a judge.” She tapped her chest and lifted her chin. “And I’m sorry, Mr. Bishop, but I don’t believe you. Your evidence is flimsy, your key witness is dead, and, frankly, I’m not convinced you’re truly repentant enough to be a productive member of society, let alone a father.”

  His mouth gaped in amazement. “What?”

  Sara’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked fiercely. On the rare moments when memories of her trial and judgment decree flashed through her mind, she usually fought them down. Bile rose in her throat. She hated everything about the judicial system, but she’d learned a great deal from her brush with the law. She knew she could use the court system to drag this out for months, probably years. It would cost a fortune, but she’d sacrifice her business, her house—whatever it took—to keep Brady.

  She shrugged off his jacket and passed it to him. “I have to go. You can expect to hear from my lawyer next week.”

  Suddenly drained by her memories and all that had happened tonight, she took a step, but misjudged the distance to the gutter and fell against the fender of her car.

  “Sara, you’re in no condition to drive. You’re exhausted, emotionally spent and you probably haven’t eaten all day, have you?”

  Sara couldn’t recall eating anything after finishing off Brady’s toast at breakfast. Her head did feel a bit out of focus. The idea of her forty-minute commute sounded daunting.

  “Let me call you a cab.”

  “I live in Rancho Carmel.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  She felt a twist in her stomach. “That’s right. You had me investigated.”

  He drove a hand through his hair. “Sara, I explained about that. Please, let me get you a cab. For Brady’s sake.”

  She looked at her son curled up so peacefully in his car seat. She wouldn’t let her pride put him in danger. “Okay. Call a cab.”

  He passed his coat back to her, saying, “Why don’t you pull your car into my driveway, while I make the call. It’ll be safer than leaving it parked on the street.”

  Sara stared at her nine-year-old wagon a moment. Julia and Hulger both had driven leased cars—always brand-new. The estate lawyer didn’t seem to think Sara needed a newer car, and Sara hadn’t bothered arguing the point.

  Expelling a long sigh, she shrugged on Ren’s coat, then climbed into her car and pulled into the space beside his Lexus. A motion detector’s bank of floodlights momentarily blinded her, but she was grateful for the illumination when she dug through the mess on the floor of the back seat to find the paraphernalia she’d need in the morning. She stuffed all she could fit in her backpack, then carefully unhooked Brady’s car seat.

  Ren met her before she’d made it two steps. “Let me,” he said, taking the awkward plastic contraption from her hand. His fingers were warm; hers felt like Popsicles. “It’ll be a few minutes. Some game is letting out and all the taxis are tied up.”

  Instead of leading the way to the curb, he headed for the front porch. He’d donned a vintage fisherman-type cardigan that made her think of John Kennedy, Jr.

  “I put down a blanket and made you some cocoa,” he told her.

  “Cocoa? You had time to make cocoa?”

  “Just some instant stuff I zapped in the microwave.”

  She chose the far end of the blanket. Her legs were numb from the chilly breeze, and she fought to keep from shivering. Once Ren had set down the car seat at her feet, he reached behind them to pick up a steaming mug. Sara latched on to its warmth with a murmur of thanks. Its sweetness and heat seduced her. She inhaled deeply. The first sip reached all the way to her toes.

  They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence. “Are you being nice to me because you’re hoping I’ll change my mind?”

  “Sounds like a lawyer kind of thing, huh?” His tone held a note of humor.

  “Yes, actually.”

  He flinched as if dodging a bullet. “You don’t like lawyers, do you?” He held up a hand. “Don’t answer. It was a rhetorical question. But in answer to your first question, yes, I do hope you’ll change your mind.”

  “I—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “Because if you do, we might be able to avoid dragging in a whole fleet of very expensive lawyers.” He grinned. “I mean, since you don’t like them.”

  The cocoa loosened her up enough to ask, “How?”

  “Simple. Do the test. If I’m not Brady’s father, then the whole thing’s over. I fade away like a bad dream. Of course, I’d be happy to reimburse you for any expenses you incur during this ordeal, the cost of the doctor, the mileage, time off work…”

  His spiel was exactly what she’d expect from a lawyer.

  “And if you are…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Then, naturally, I’d w
ant to be a part of his life.” Gently, he added, “I imagine that would mean some kind of joint-custody arrangement.”

  The words hurt her ears. She set her cup aside and pulled the lapels of his jacket around her neck as if she could just shut out the sound. It was a childish gesture, she knew.

  “Sara, please, think about it,” he pleaded. “I’ve seen what happens when a child becomes a negotiable point of contention in a courtroom. Only the lawyers come out ahead. I’m asking to add to the quality of Brady’s life, not take away from it.”

  Sara couldn’t think about that right now. His tone was very persuasive, but that was to be expected—he was a lawyer. He’d had her investigated. He probably knew just what to say to sway her. He couldn’t be trusted—she had to remember that.

  Fortunately, a pair of car lights broke the long dark expanse in front of them. The car slowed and turned into the driveway.

  Saved by the cab, she thought minutes later, taking a deep breath of stale air. A country-and-western station played on the radio. After securing Brady’s seat, Ren had shoved a wad of bills at the driver with instructions to return for her the next morning. Sara didn’t meet his gaze when he told her goodbye. Instead, she muttered a weak “Thank you,” then wrapped her arms around the hard plastic shell of Brady’s car seat and closed her eyes.

  REN WATCHED until the taillights were out of sight, then he walked to the porch and picked up Sara’s mug and the blanket. His jacket was draped over one arm. He’d argued that Sara should wear it home, but she’d insisted the taxi was heated and she would be fine.

  “Stubborn woman,” he muttered softly.

  “Talking to yourself these days, old man?” a voice asked.

  Ren almost pitched his entire load into the bushes as his instincts prepared him for battle. Only the familiar chuckle that accompanied the droll accent saved him the embarrassment. “That does it, Lester. You’re fired. Go hound some other client.”

  Bo followed Ren up the steps like a puppy. “Can I have cocoa, too?”