His Daddy's Eyes Page 6

  Ren couldn’t keep from asking. “Told him what?”

  She shot him a poisonous look. “This is private. Just between the cookbook man ’n me.”

  “It’s okay. Just say what you want to say.” Bo brushed her arm with his fingertips.

  Her automatic flinch made Ren’s stomach clench. Men probably weren’t very nice to her. He had heard his fair share of horror stories in the last two years; hers was probably no different.

  “I lied,” she said soberly—her intense scowl obviously a ruse to keep tears at bay. “Sara’s not gay. I made that up.”

  “Hell, I knew that,” Bo said gruffly. “I never believed you for a minute. You’re a terrible liar.”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah. And when you’re that bad of a liar, it’s like it never happened, so just forget it.” Bo rose and motioned for Ren to follow.

  She stood, catching the edge of the table as if her equilibrium had been shaken. “You know, cookbook man, you’re not that bad, after all.”

  “Cookbook man?” Ren asked, as they exited the bar. He inhaled deeply, the brisk delta breeze a welcome change from the smell of stale beer and cigarette smoke.

  Bo growled. “When I was taking your damn pictures the first time, the best view was from the cookbook aisle.”

  Ren studied his friend in the light from the neon Budweiser sign. Bo was a successful investigator who traveled all over the world, but in his private life he was a recluse who favored fishing and satellite TV over dating. Obviously, these women had somehow touched him. Ren didn’t question his friend’s loyalty, but he wondered if his decision to pursue the paternity issue would change their friendship.

  They walked in silence. Ren used his remote to unlock his car. The double beep-beep pierced the quiet. “Bo, this isn’t malicious,” he said somberly. “I wish there were some other way, but I sure as hell don’t know what it is.”

  Bo looked skyward. “Yeah, I know.”

  Ren waited a minute, then asked, “Do you have that background information on Sara yet? I’d like to read it before I see Armory on Friday morning.”

  Bo unlocked his car the old-fashioned way. The door gave an unhappy groan when he opened it. “It’s at home. I wasn’t expecting your surprise appearance tonight, remember?”

  Before Ren could reply, Bo climbed into his car. Ren watched him start it and pull away. Obviously, Bo didn’t understand the primal urge that had pulled Ren through the bookstore door. Ren wasn’t sure he understood it himself.

  He glanced up the street. A yellow glow spilled from the windows of the bookstore. Why is she still there? She should be home, tucking Brady in bed. Ren longed to walk back to the store to make sure she was okay, but the lawyer in him warned against it. You’re poised to change her life forever. And she’s never going to forgive you.

  SARA EASED BRADY’S sleeping form to her left shoulder to better manipulate the key. She’d waited as long as she could for Claudie to return, but still had a long drive ahead of her.

  “I’ll do that,” someone said behind her.

  Sara recognized her friend’s voice and immediately gave a huge sigh of relief. “Thank God, you’re okay! I was worried about you,” she said, giving the younger woman a quick, one-armed squeeze. The smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke made her recoil. “You are okay, aren’t you?”

  Claudie kept her head down as she took the key and finished locking up. “Yeah, I’m fine. Had one too many at Jake’s, is all.”

  Sara’s brows went up. “How come? You never drink.”

  Claudie handed her the keys with a look of profound weariness. “I drink. Just not when you’re around. How else do you think someone like me lives with all this shit?” The last word was part whisper.

  Sara put her arm around her friend’s slim shoulders. “I didn’t mean to sound condemning. I was just surprised. I know you’re doing the best you can—so am I. That’s why we’re friends, remember?”

  The two walked down the dark alley toward the employee parking lot. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Sara asked.

  Claudie held her tongue until Sara had Brady strapped in his car seat in the back seat of her Toyota wagon. When Sara closed the door, Claudie melted to the curb like a marshmallow over an open flame. “I suck, big time,” she wailed.

  Sara sat beside her. “You don’t mean that literally, do you?” she said, purposely injecting a spot of humor. Sara knew her friends liked to think of Sara as angelic, so her occasional forays into the ribald always cracked them up. This time the jest went over Claudie’s head.

  “I told the cookbook man you were gay,” Claudie cried.

  Sara grasped the odd confession immediately, but it took a second or two longer to figure out how she felt about it. Bo, her newest recruit, was a nice guy, but Sara felt no attraction to him. And even though she was attracted to his friend Ren Bishop, she’d never get involved with a judge, so what did it matter?

  Sara shrugged. “Did he believe you?”

  “No. I don’t think the other guy did, either.”

  Sara’s heart took an unwelcome jump. “The other guy? Tall? Wavy hair? Really handsome?”

  Claudie looked at her strangely. “You met him?”

  “He came into the store while he was waiting for Bo. Where’d you see him?”

  “At the bar.” Claudie turned to face Sara. “I ’fessed up like Keneesha told me. And Bo said he never believed me, anyway, because I was a terrible liar so it wasn’t like what I said even counted. But Keneesha said a rumor like that could make trouble for you with Brady. If social services proved you were an unfit mother, they could take him away. They do that, you know.”

  Her solemn anguish touched Sara’s heart. Did that happen to you, my friend? Sara wondered. She didn’t ask; Claudine St. James never spoke of her past. Never. “Nobody’s out there trying to take Brady away. Why would you worry about something like that?”

  Claudie shook her head. “You know what life’s like, Sara. Every time you get a sweet thing going, somebody comes along to mess it up.”

  An odd shiver passed through Sara’s body. She prayed her friend was wrong. Life without Brady was unthinkable.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  REN SCANNED THE JAM-PACKED reception area located on the second floor of the courthouse. Potential jurors milled about waiting for instructions, praying, no doubt, for a quick release. To pick Bo out of such a crowd was like looking at a Where’s Waldo? puzzle, Ren thought.

  “So, what’s the plan, Stan?” a voice asked beside him.

  Ren glanced to his right. Typical Bo. Baggy, tan canvas pants. Navy T-shirt with some engineering firm’s logo on the breast pocket. Scruffy running shoes.

  “Lunch,” Ren said shortly. “Let’s beat the mass exodus.”

  They took the stairs, hurrying past the uniformed guards at the entrance. Neither spoke until they reached the plaza.

  “Where do you want to eat?” Ren asked, jogging down the concrete steps to the street.

  Bo shrugged. “The noodle shop?”

  The thought of food made Ren queasy, but the instant the white hand appeared on the stoplight, he took off—a sprinter in street shoes. Dodging slow-moving pedestrians, he hurried toward the J-street locale, not paying attention to Bo until his friend grabbed his arm and hauled him to a stop in the shadow of the Union Bank building.

  “Slow down. Sara doesn’t get back for another hour, and we need to give her time to get Brady down for his nap. Tell me what Mason said.”

  “I gotta give him credit,” Ren answered. “He didn’t even blink when I told him about Julia.”

  Armory Mason, Ren’s lawyer, had been his father’s closest friend. Telling Armory of his affair was almost as bad as confessing to his dad.

  He’d called Bo right after the meeting with Armory. They’d discussed the timing of this upcoming confrontation, and he’d asked Bo to accompany him to smooth the way with Sara.

  “I’m a little nervous,” Ren admitted.<
br />
  “Well, duh. Who wouldn’t be? But you gotta eat.” Bo grinned. “Actually, I gotta eat. I don’t care about you. You want moral support—it’s gonna cost you lunch.”

  He started off at a more sedate pace which Ren matched. The four blocks to the café brought them closer to Sara’s bookstore, as well. Sara. He’d thought about her almost nonstop since Wednesday night. Sara…and Brady.

  Earlier, Armory had confirmed what Ren had deduced on his own. Before there could be a custody suit, they had to determine paternity. In other words, he needed a DNA test.

  “I suggest you talk to the aunt first,” Armory had told Ren. “You say Bo’s obtained the child’s medical records so you know the little boy’s blood type is O, which is the same as yours. But that’s a very common type. In fact, I’m type O, and we both know I’m not your father.”

  Ren smiled politely at Armory’s attempt at levity.

  “Perhaps if you explain the situation, she’ll be agreeable. If she’s unreasonable, I’m sure we can get a court order, but that will take time.”

  Unreasonable, Ren thought. What constituted “reasonable” when a child was involved?

  Armory looked thoughtful. “You said she’s a single mother. Do you know what her financial needs are? Maybe she’d be receptive to an offer of some sort of monetary incentive.”

  Ren knew his lawyer was only doing his job. But Armory didn’t know Sara Carsten. Of course, Ren didn’t know her, either, but he didn’t think she’d take a penny from him. The only way she might consider his request was if she believed it was in Brady’s best interest.

  At the small restaurant, both men ordered teriyaki noodle bowls—Bo’s with chicken, Ren’s with broccoli. A smiling Asian woman took Ren’s money, then told them “Number twenty-two.” After filling their drinks, they sat down at a small table. Ren chose a chair facing the large, plate-glass window. Foot traffic surged and ebbed on the sidewalk. People carried take-out meals to the park across the street.

  Does Sara ever take Brady to that park? Ren wondered.

  Bo kicked Ren’s shins to get his attention. “Lordy, they must have loved you in court today. Let any murderers go free?”

  “All I did today was listen to lawyers with motions. Boring, long-winded motions.” He sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Bo. I used to love that part of the game—finding the best argument to prove my point. It took me back to my high-school debate team days.”

  Bo snorted. “Don’t tell me you were that kind of geek.”

  “It was fun. Besides, the debate team got to travel all over the state.”

  “So did the football team, but we didn’t have to wear sissy jackets and ties.”

  Ren couldn’t help looking down at his Ralph Lauren suit. He poked his paper napkin at a faint spot on his red-and-navy striped tie. The lax dress code was one of the things he missed most about his days as an environmental lawyer. Tucked in a basement, no one had cared what he wore. Once he went public, dressing became a contest that both Babe and Eve insisted on his taking part in.

  When their number was announced, Bo rose. He returned moments later with two steaming bowls. The aroma tempted Ren despite his unsettled stomach. Ren half listened to Bo’s tale of his struggle with an elusive catfish that had gotten away, but his nerves were slowly getting the better of him.

  “Am I doing the right thing, Bo?”

  Bo chewed, appearing thoughtful. He looked at Ren a long time before answering. “I’ve been trying to put myself in your place, and I guess I don’t see how you’ve got any choice. But I’m not sure Sara will see it that way.”

  Ren’s appetite vanished. He pushed his bowl aside and took a sip of iced tea.

  “What else did Armory say?” Bo asked. “What are your chances of gaining custody if she fights?”

  Ren shook his head and looked around, hoping Bo’s words couldn’t be overheard. “Paternity issues aren’t his specialty. He’s going to call a friend.” Ren hated the idea of people talking about his life, speculating about what made him do something as foolish as having sex with a stranger.

  “What did your mother say when you told her?”

  Ren took a sip from his glass to avoid answering.

  “You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

  He shook his head. “I need to tell Eve, first.”

  Bo stopped chewing. His look made Ren fidget with his chopsticks, poking at a blob of spilled teriyaki sauce. “I haven’t seen her in over a week. She took her agent wine-tasting in Napa last weekend, and then she covered that big chemical spill up near Shasta. This isn’t the kind of thing you discuss on the phone.”

  Bo’s expression said he recognized an excuse when he heard one. “I thought you were staying at her place on weeknights,” Bo said.

  Ren stifled a sigh. While he and Eve had discussed moving in together, neither wanted to be the person to make the move. Ren felt her condo was too small, and she called his home a mausoleum. “Off and on. She didn’t want me around when her agent was there.”

  He couldn’t stifle the bitter chord in his tone. Eve had been so wrapped up in her plans, she didn’t have a clue about Ren’s impending crisis. During one of their infrequent phone conversations, she’d seemed to pick up on his tension, but attributed it to lack of sex.

  “Don’t worry, sweet thing,” she’d told him. “I’ll be home Friday night, then we’ll have the whole weekend to play. We could go back to Napa. I have a coupon for a mud bath. Marcella loved it.”

  Ren hadn’t liked Marcella, Eve’s agent; he’d found her pompous and demanding. Eve, who called her a cutthroat deal-maker, was hoping the woman could steer her career to bigger and better markets—maybe even network television.

  “Hang tough, honey,” Eve had told him before hanging up. “We’ll be back on schedule in a day or two.” Everything was a schedule to Eve. When life was on track, everyone was happy. Being off schedule meant chaos. What would a paternity suit do to Eve’s elaborate and carefully considered plans?

  “I’ll tell her tonight,” Ren said decisively. “First Sara, then Eve, then my mother.” A good, logical order.

  Ren didn’t try to interpret Bo’s look; instead, he swiped his friend’s half-finished bowl of noodles and carried it to the busing area. “Hey, man, I’m not done,” Bo complained.

  “Close enough. Let’s go.”

  Despite his grumbling, Bo followed Ren outside and plunged into the throng. A few doors down the block, they passed in front of the bar where they’d talked two nights earlier. “Hey, cookbook man,” Ren called, when Bo got sidetracked by an attractive young brunette in a tight skirt, “I thought you liked blondes.”

  Bo frowned. “Don’t call me that. Claudie does it to get under my skin. I stopped by the bookstore yesterday to pick up the new reading list, and she went on and on about my culinary prowess—only she made it sound like I was cooking in the bedroom.” He shook his head. “For a high school dropout, she’s pretty snappy with the insults.”

  “How do you know she’s a dropout?”

  “Sara was quizzing her for the equivalency test when I was there. Sara says once Claudie has her GED, she’ll be able to take some junior college courses and get off the streets permanently.”

  Ren paused. “Are you interested in her?”

  Bo’s face flushed red and he put on his sunglasses. “Of course not. She’s a mixed-up kid, and I feel sorry for her, that’s all.”

  They walked on in silence. A glance at his watch told Ren they were still too early, so he slowed his pace. A display in the window of an antique store caught his eye. “See that music box? Eve bought Babe one like it for Mother’s Day.”

  Bo shrugged. “So?”

  “She bought it for me to give Babe. Signed my name. Had it delivered. I got the bill this morning.”

  “How much?”

  “That’s not the issue. The point is, she didn’t ask me first. She just did it.”

  Bo cocked his head. “Babe doesn’t like mu
sic boxes?”

  “It’s not the music box.” Ren sighed. “I might have picked it out myself. It’s just…” He wasn’t sure he could explain why this had him so pissed off. Eve was doing what she did best—organizing.

  “Let me guess. You feel as if your life is out of your hands.”

  Surprised by Bo’s insight, Ren turned. “I wouldn’t go that far. I still have control over my life—” he ignored his friend’s skeptical snort “—it’s just that everything is a challenge with Eve. She has her agenda, and if you want to be involved you have to stay on schedule.” Right down to having sex, he added silently.

  Bo cuffed him lightly. “Hey, man, welcome to the real world. Eve’s a modern woman. She makes good money. She’s got the car, credit, connections. If you think about it, she doesn’t really need you. You’re…what’s the word?”

  “Superfluous?”

  Bo snickered. “Yeah, that’s what Claudie called me the other day. She said once doctors figured out how to make test-tube babies, men were about as useful as tits on a boar.”

  Ren leaned one shoulder against the building and squinted at Bo, who had a bemused look on his face. “What about love?”

  Bo’s arched look summed up his opinion on that matter.

  “Well, what about family, then? Children? Continuity?”

  Bo shrugged. “I said the same thing to Claudie, and she pointed to a magazine with Rosie O’Donnell on the cover. Single and just adopted her third kid. Traditional families may not be a thing of the past, but there’s a lot of single parents out there doing a better job than some of the dysfunctional mom-and-pop families.”

  Bo rolled his shoulders and took a step away. “The point is, you’re engaged to a career woman and you haven’t even told her you might have a kid. Eve’s a beautiful woman, but she doesn’t strike me as the motherly type. Am I right?”

  Ren felt himself tense. “We’ve talked about kids. Nothing specific, but…” He tried to recall Eve’s exact words on the subject. Something to the effect of “Everybody wants kids, right? Someday. But I’d have to be at a secure place in my career. Television viewers have short attention spans and very little loyalty.”