Elizabeth centered a white plate covered with a silver cloche on a table set for two beneath the air-conditioned private patio. Outside, the Intracoastal glittered blue while inside her son played on the piano, sitting on his grandmother’s lap.
If her own father hadn't set out to destroy their family and hurt her mother, her childhood would have been spent in paradise instead of isolation, where no one cared about her.
She shook off the thought. Rafe would be here soon.
Her heart raced as she perfected the table setting and then strolled into the house to check her hair.
Strands had fallen from her loose bun. She tugged the band out and ran her hands through her straight hair, wishing she had more volume. In Vegas, she’d worn her hair down. Did Rafe prefer that style? She batted her eyes in the mirror and wiped a smudge of mascara from her lower lid.
"Are you okay, Elizabeth?"
She pressed her lips together and turned toward her mother, who helped Brandon slide down from the piano bench. Then Brandon waited for Isabelle with curious eyes that watched every move. Liz walked toward them, folding her hands. "I'm fine, Mom. Just nervous."
Her mother took Brandon by his hand and walked to get her pocketbook on the upholstered chair. "The officer that found Brandon was Rafe Soliz? The same from last night?"
The last thing she wanted was to explain herself, and the circumstances of how she’d gotten pregnant. Her face felt hot. The miracle of reconnecting with her mother had been the one thing that helped her through Brandon's abduction, but what happened in Vegas was so out of character that she couldn’t tell her mom. "Yes."
"He is quite handsome. He was cute as a boy, too; I remember when his mother brought him with her to the house." Isabelle passed Brandon’s tight baby grip to Elizabeth. "Pilar Soliz and her husband both worked for your father, did you know that? Rafe clearly grew up to be one of those sexy good guys. He might not have money, but if he treated you right, he'd be a fine choice."
“For what?” Liz averted her gaze and reached down to pick up her son. "Mom, I don't want to ever hear the word sexy from you. It's weird."
Isabelle guided her toward the door. Liz held Brandon and walked with her mom as she said, "Are you hoping to make more than a thank you out of today's lunch?"
This was not a conversation she'd ever thought to have with her mother. Her face burned. "Mom, you should be heading to Peter's for lunch. Don’t want to be late."
Her mother patted her cheek. "Getting too close to the truth I see. I married a man because my father and his wanted to make a business deal. Mitch and I were both miserable and you all suffered from my bad choices. I want better for my children."
"Mom, Brandon and I are just fine." No. Her feelings for Rafe Soliz were both thanks and let's work this strange situation out as friends. Yesterday she’d hoped for more, but she was fine if he wasn’t interested. She spent nine months of her life wondering Rafe's last name and his genetic makeup. All she had known about him was that he was fun, easy to joke with and sexy. Now that he was here, though, her heart whispered to get to know him.
"You are blushing." Her mother chose a shawl near the door for her walk next door as she shrugged. "Caro and Luke seem happy. I'd like the same for you, Elizabeth. I wish I’d married a man I loved and not done as I was told."
The less they talked about Rafe, the better. She swallowed. "Good-bye, Mother."
Her mother swatted at her brown coif as if she had something out of place, though her stylist had been at the mansion that morning to help her look fabulous. She winked. "I will get the details of your date out of you later. I noticed Brandon looks exactly like Rafe once did."
"Mom!"
"I have eyes. You like him and it's okay."
Her shoulders straightened. "This is not a date."
Isabelle turned and blew a kiss to Brandon. "If you say so. I'll be home in two to three hours. Bye!"
Liz closed the door and then met the huge wide-eyed gaze of her son. He smelled like powder and baby. "Brandon, your mom is going to get you ready for lunch now."
Brandon tugged up his pants as they walked into the kitchen and checked all the bowls and serving trays. Even though he seemed exactly as he had before his kidnapping, she needed to find a way to make sure, and Rafe’s suggestion of a therapist was a good start.
She’d made enough food for a ten-person family dinner, but she didn't know what Rafe liked and didn't like, so she’d chosen a little of everything.
She picked up the salad bowl and carried it out to the table on the back patio. As she bounced her baby on her hip, she placed the bowl down and then ruffled his hair. "I wish you'd say mom or mommy or mama, again. I missed you."
Brandon didn't say anything. Elizabeth said a silent prayer he’d start again soon. He might be scared. She set his feet down, then held his hand to walk with him into the kitchen and ensure the chicken tenders were ready to be served. As she covered the plate, her doorbell rang. The nerves inside her stomach jumped and she picked up Brandon. "Let's go see who is there. Could be your dad."
Elizabeth opened the door. Rafe took off his sunglasses to reveal sexy brown eyes. Olive skin and high cheek bones. She smiled. "Rafe!"
Brandon reached out with both hands for Rafe as he crossed the threshold. "Da."
Her heart skipped. Her son called out first for Rafe. She swallowed and tried not to be disappointed.
Rafe winked at Brandon and then gazed into her eyes. "Wow, did you teach him that in twenty-four hours?"
"No. I've been working on Momma." There had been a slight whine in her voice. She heard it herself. Knock it off, Liz.
Brandon squirmed in her arms and reached out for Rafe again. "Da."
Rafe's expression softened as he stared at her son. "Can I?"
Her son was his too; she’d just known Brandon longer. Rafe had brought him home to her. Despite how her muscles wanted to cling onto Brandon still, she offered Rafe her most precious baby as she nodded, "Here you go."
He hugged Brandon like they were old friends, but his gaze remained on her. "Elizabeth..."
The ache in her body for Rafe to hold her too almost overwhelmed her, but she stood taller. "You can call me Liz."
He nodded. "Liz."
He rocked Brandon in his arms and her son beamed a huge smile on his face. His happiness sent a calming wave through her. Rafe placed his free hand on her arm and her skin sparked with electricity as her eyes widened. He looked down at her. "You seem more at peace."
Attraction wasn't part of her plans, despite the memory of his kiss as he’d claimed her almost two years ago. She hugged her waist and turned away. "Of course I am. You saved my life, here. I just wish I knew how to help him."
"Is Brandon different?"
"He was almost walking on his own and he called me mama all the time, but now he wants to be held more and he watches me like a hawk.”
"I’ll call the therapist I mentioned yesterday and run a background check on a few alternatives, if you want.”
"Okay. That's a good idea.” Her nose whiffed his sexy aftershave and she stepped toward the cold blast of the air conditioner to clear her senses. ”Let's go have lunch— I set us up on the patio."
"Sounds good. I'm starving." He followed her as she walked toward the kitchen and she knew her hips swung a little more than they usually did. She refused to turn around and look at him until her pulse returned to a normal speed. “Where is Ashley, your maid?”
“I gave her a few hours off.” She picked up the large tray of various dishes and continued onto the screened patio so they could watch the yachts in the distance. She placed it on the table in front of them and then took a seat.
Rafe hovered Brandon over the high chair, staring at the levers. She massaged her neck but it didn't stop the heat from rushing to her face. She scooted closer to the chair and put her hands up to take Brandon from him, but Rafe slid Brandon into his chair. "Do you need help putting him in... never mind."
He then held the boy and strapped him in safely. As he finished, he met her gaze. "It seemed easy enough. Legs go in the holes."
Her lips puckered as she glanced at him so she sat back and took off the silver cover from the chicken. "You're an excellent father so far."
He chuckled. "I've had less than twenty-four hours on the job. I'm a work in progress."
She took his plate and served him chicken, mashed potatoes and corn. She watched him, and he seemed confused, either by the amount of food, or that he was sitting with her watching the water, with their child. It all felt surreal to her too. She twirled the potatoes as she hoped to make him relax and enjoy his lunch. She put the bowl on the table. "Did you have a stressful morning before you came?"
He tugged at his ear. "Why do you ask?"
She peeked at him through her eyelashes and then fixed herself a plate. As she settled into her seat with her food, she smiled. "You have lines near your eyes. I was just hoping you weren't stressed about being here."
"I had to deal with a few things." He pressed his lips together, a sure signal that he didn’t want to talk about it. She swallowed. Police work? Their case? Their son? She cut a grilled cheese into pieces and placed the slices on Brandon’s tray; he swooped in and picked up his lunch fast.
She made a hand signal for Rafe to watch their son with hawk eyes as she stood and passed by him toward her outdoor radio. She rubbed Rafe’s shoulder. "Well, now you can relax. Brandon loves music. Would you mind if I put something on?"
Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her favorite station and swayed. Goosebumps rose on her skin because he watched her move. Her chest heaved, but she said nothing, determined to be as fearless as she’d been when she’d first met him. When she turned around, he was staring at her. "Jazz. I'm surprised."
She fixed her hair behind her ear as she passed him. The smell of oak trees struck her hard, and she knew it was Rafe’s after shave. Taking her seat next to Brandon, opposite of Rafe, she poured them lemonade. "Why would you be surprised that I like jazz?"
"You strike me as someone edgier."
Edgy? Her lips parted as she flipped her hair. She was boring in real life. "Why, because I'm blonde?"
He glanced at his food. "No. It was... never mind."
The last thing she ever wanted was to embarrass him. She reached out and placed her hand over his. "What were you going to say?"
This time his eyes had a twinkle in them. "In Vegas, you were so carefree, I imagined you listened to hard rock, or alternative edgy music."
"I don’t like hard anything, really. But you seemed dangerous at the time." He'd been someone she couldn't resist. The ache inside her came from how she felt near him. “I never pegged you for a cop.”
"Detective, actually. I was at a bachelor party and I didn’t want to go to the strip club, which was why I was playing slots when you came and sat next to me...”
“It was the other way around.”
“Was it?”
“You came and sat at my table.”
“Fair enough. I thought you were cute.”
“And easy.” She stared down at her plate.
“No.” He brushed his hand on hers like he had the moment he had sat next to her in Vegas. “That was a first time for me, in Vegas. I never had sex with anyone I wasn't dating before."
"Really? I thought guys wanted one night stands without complications."
"I was raised by my mother and had a sister. It was my job to protect them when my father disappeared. I never wanted to be the guy I didn't want my sister near."
He was a wonderful role model for Brandon. She sipped her lemonade and then replaced her fingers over his warm forearm. "When I remember my life before Brandon, I see a different person. I probably was more selfish then, but when it comes to music I've always preferred classic jazz. It relaxes me.”
“I like everything, really. Different sounds help me think in different ways.” The music stopped as her phone rang. She took her hands away and he drank his lemonade. "Are you going to get that?"
Whoever called her right now could call again later or leave a voice mail. Nothing was more important than building a connection with Rafe. She waved her hand. "No. What are your New Year’s plans?"
His brow lifted. "I don't have any. I know it’s in a few days. Are you inviting me somewhere?"
"Could be. Would you be interested?" She gave Brandon another slice of grilled cheese sandwich.
Rafe's voice reverberated through her as he said, "I'd like my mom and sister to meet Brandon."
Her mood deflated. She wasn't ready to answer all the questions a meeting would require. Perhaps she was being selfish, but she’d just had her baby returned after a week of terrifying fear where she’d imagined the worst. "Ohh."
His shoulders tightened at her hesitation. "Is that an issue?"
Inside her stomach churned and she lowered her head as her face heated. She wasn't ready. "Can we keep your paternity between us for a while?"
His eyes narrowed. "Why? Are you ashamed of me?"
“That’s not it!” If she said the wrong thing, everything might be ruined. She glanced at Brandon who stared at Rafe with adoration in his eyes. Elizabeth reached out to hold the man’s firm hand and the baby’s soft one. "I want us to settle into a routine and trust each other before we start bringing more people into the fold. My last name is now Morgan and that tends to cause chaos."
Silence between them helped in that second while he gazed at her. Finally he broke the moment, lowered his voice and asked, “Was life easier as a Marshall?”
“Yes. No one blinked at the name and wondered my relation to anyone.”
He squeezed her hand, his eyes warm. "We'll introduce Brandon slowly to my family then. I've not seen my mother to tell her yet, and I want what’s best for Brandon and you. However I’m not going anywhere and I want to make up for lost time."
"Thank you. I’d like that too. Family is important to me."
"I see that. I’m dreading the look in your brother's eyes when I go over there after lunch to discuss the search for Belle. I'm collecting the coast guard information, but he's going to want me to say I found her when I haven't. If he knew I was Brandon's father…“ He took out his keys and tossed them in the air. “I don't know how to explain. I betrayed my place."
Her gaze narrowed as she leaned across her plate. What did he mean? "What place?"
He pocketed the keys. "I am the son of the hired help and I never should have touched you."
His calloused hands sent a ripple of excitement through her. She didn't want to break the connection and money didn’t matter at all. What mattered was integrity and Rafe had plenty of that.
“That’s silly. I don’t think like that.” While she loved her family, the most important was her mom, who loved them all—and she’d told Liz that Rafe was a good man. "Peter doesn't get much say in my life. I met him a week ago, he and Belle."
"Belle. My mother and sister both said she was amazing. The longer she's missing…."
Her mouth made a tisk sound that echoed in her heart. "Poor Peter."
Rafe dropped her hand. "I don't want to think about Mr. Morgan."
Mr.? She crossed her hand across her stomach. "You went to school with him. Why Mr.?"
He picked up his fork and knife as he cut a piece of chicken. "I like to keep a professional distance. While we were in the same classes and drove home together, I knew he was the heir to the House of Morgan and I was the help."
A blast of cold air hit her spine. "I was raised without the last name. I judge people based on who they are, and not what they have. When we tell everyone you're Brandon's father, no one will ever call you the hired help again."
Brandon then hit his tray. "Da."
Rafe and she both relaxed their shoulders and turned toward Brandon. He giggled and picked up his grilled cheese. Rafe coughed and then lowered his voice. "Honestly..."
She scooted closer to both of them. "Yes?"
Rafe held out his hand and patted Brandon's head. Her son beamed at the attention and offered him a brilliant smile with those loving eyes of his. Rafe must have felt that too as he said, "Being his father scares me because your last name is Morgan."
A giggle escaped her lips too as Brandon cooed at the attention he received. "I am not a Morgan in the way you talk about.” She ripped a roll in half and added butter to it. “Being his mother scared me, all the time at first, and look what happened. He was kidnapped and it was all my fault. I should have been stronger.”
“They were professional kidnappers and you were the target, Liz. They knew how to get to you. It’s not your fault.” Rafe gazed intently in her eyes. "I won't let anything happen to you or him, ever again. On that you have my word."
They both ate their meals in silence. As she wiped her mouth after she finished the last bite, she sipped her lemonade and studied Rafe.
Strong muscular frame, a handsome profile, thick dark hair that her fingers ached to touch and find out if it was coarse or smooth. She held perfectly still as she remembered how carnal his kisses had been. Heat built inside her and the lemonade did little to appease her. She glanced at the table. "Rafe?"
He wiped his mouth with the napkin and then nodded. "Yes?"
If they were to function as a family unit of sorts, she had to figure out how to add him to her life without these sensual memories. She lowered her gaze to hide her thoughts. "Do you want to try this again tomorrow? Lunch?"
"I have to work."
"What time do you get off?"
"I can be here by seven, if dinner is okay instead."
A huge sigh came out of her mouth and she hadn't even known she’d held her breath. She cleaned Brandon's fingers with a napkin and Rafe decided to tackle his other hand and face. "Then I'll have dinner for us and you can help me tuck Brandon into bed."
He stared at their son with such intensity, and then he switched his gaze to her and it felt like he truly saw into her soul. "I'd like that."
Brandon was done eating and his eyes were at half-mast as he fought sleep. She placed her napkin beside her and picked him up. He'd need new clothes and a nap. "Then it's settled."
Rafe placed his hand on her back as she led them inside the mansion and away from the Intracoastal. She walked with him to the front door with Brandon in her arms.
"Liz, thank you for being sweet today. You have no idea how different you are than your last name suggests, or what the House of Morgan represents to me."
She paused at the door. As a single woman, she'd have angled for a kiss. However, she was a mom now. She held her son on her hip as she nodded. "I'm just being me, and the House of Morgan is nothing but code words for making me miserable. My father never even told me he was my father. I found out at a will reading that the banker who ran my trust fund was actually my dad. I had everything except the one thing I wanted most, a family. That's not how I want us to work and I want my son to know only love."
"You deserve love Liz.”
“But? Don’t hold back.”
His cheeks were flushed. “The Morgans have always been the rich family in my life that was entitled to anything. Everything."
The last thing she needed was Rafe telling her that she was in any way superior to him. He clearly had a family who loved him which was more than she’d ever had. She leaned against the door. "See you tomorrow."
"Bye." He tipped his head to her, kissed Brandon’s head, and stared at her one more time. As he walked out, she took a quick glance at his rock hard backside in those fitted jeans, and remembered how hard his body truly was, everywhere. She sighed. She'd never feel that thrill again and she tore her gaze away from his sexy butt. Nothing but trouble.
Brandon yawned. She took him to the bathroom to clean him and then put him into his crib for a nap. Her precious boy kept saying Da and reaching toward the door, like he wanted Rafe. She reminded him with tickles, "I'm Mom" but he just laughed at her with those loving brown eyes.
Finally he nodded off. She checked the video monitor and ensured she could watch Brandon at all times. Then she left to clean up the patio and bring the food trays into the kitchen for her staff to wash later.
Jazz still surrounded her as she walked outside. No breeze disturbed the patio, even the palm trees were still. Today Rafe and Brandon had bonded and Rafe had been more caring than she could have hoped for.
His family’s line of work meant nothing to her, but he was such a stickler for class delineations. Somehow she’d have to figure out how to walk around that issue. With the last plate gathered in a pile, she picked up her phone, realizing that the earlier caller had left a message and hit play to the voice mail.
“You may have your Brandon back for now, but I will take him away from you forever if you don't pay me ten million dollars.”
Her heart raced as she glanced at Brandon's video feed. He was fast asleep. Every cell in her body wanted to run and hold him tight even though he was fine and in his crib. She cracked her knuckles like she was a boxer. No one could take her son away from her again.