The family courtroom was packed. Logan took a seat outside the room and waited for his name to be called. He’d thought about getting a lawyer, but when he called for information the clerk assured him that it wasn’t necessary. Still, he couldn’t help the growing pit in his stomach as he surveyed the hallway, looking for Desiree.
Where in fuck is she?
He wasn’t surprised that she was late; it was clear that she wasn’t the most responsible person in the world. As the minutes ticked by, he got up several times and looked around for her, searching the faces of the anxious young women around him. He even went outside and checked the grounds and sidewalks, thinking maybe she smoked, or was conferring with a lawyer. He saw other people so engaged, but even after he paced the front and back spaces, there was no Des.
Maybe he’d missed her? But when he went back into the hallway, she wasn’t there, either. Frowning, he took a seat and tried to distract himself with his cellphone. There were messages he needed to return and a couple of texts. It occurred to him that maybe she had tried to call, that something had come up, but he saw no communication from Desiree.
What the hell? Turning off his cell, he leaned back against the wall, hearing the clerk call one name after another. Most of the women seemed nervous and fidgety, and the men in particular looked unhappy when leaving the courtroom. He imagined that a lot of these cases were child-support battles, which explained some of the stress he was feeling around him. Yet as the time dragged into the next hour, he got up and performed the same reconnaissance again with no result.
Where the hell was she? What kind of game was she playing now?
His questions went unanswered as he waited alone.
Forty-five minutes later, the clerk called his name. Entering the courtroom, he saw a female judge glance up from behind her desk, her expression bored.
“Maxwell versus Hart,” the clerk announced. Frowning, the judge peered over her glasses, noted his presence, and then glanced about the room.
“Who are we waiting for?”
“Desiree Maxwell.” The clerk walked outside and called the names again. Returning a few minutes later, he shrugged. “She doesn’t appear to be present.”
The judge did an eye roll and then looked at Logan with interest. “I assume Ms. Maxwell is claiming that you are the father of her child?” She glanced over the paperwork before her.
“Yes,” Logan replied, his stomach churning. The tension that had been building inside of him was close to the surface: Cinnamon’s fate lay in this woman’s hands.
“Well, since she’s not here, I’m dismissing the case. She will have to refile if she wants to establish paternity and obtain child support.” Her eyes shifted back to Logan. “You might want to consider a DNA test. That way if you are not the father, you won’t have to return and go through this again.”
“Right. Good idea. So what happens now?”
The judge seemed surprised at his question. “You can go. The mother isn’t here. I’m just sorry she’s wasted your time, and the court’s.”
He rose, more confused than ever. It was on the tip of his tongue to admit that, at present, the child was in his custody, but common sense told him to keep his mouth shut. He wasn’t at all sure what would happen if the judge realized that Cinnamon was right now sleeping in his spare bedroom.
Logan walked out of the courtroom and stood outside in the bright sunlight, stunned by what had happened, or rather, what hadn’t. What now? He had been waiting all this time for this day, thinking he would get resolution, but he was right back where he fucking started. Cinnamon was with him, and Desiree was gone.
For the life of him, he couldn’t understand the woman’s motivation. Did she, like him, doubt that the child was his? She had to know a DNA test would establish once and for all whether or not he was the father. So was her lawsuit simply a scare tactic?
Who the hell knew? But as he sat down on one of the benches outside, he was surprised to feel a flood of relief. No one was aware he had the baby, so no one would be coming to take her away unless he put his hand up.
He wasn’t about to go that fucking route; it was entirely too risky. He wanted Cinnamon to feel loved, to know that she was well fed and cared for, that someone was playing with her, holding her, talking to her, and just looking out for her overall.
Someone like Isabella.
Logan frowned. His situation there was now even more complicated. He thought back to that morning, when she had offered to go to the courtroom with him, and he was touched all over again.
And he didn’t want to be. There was no room in his life for a woman like Bella, or a baby. He’d been counting on taking the high road and keeping his hands off her for what he thought would be a relatively short time.
And now things could go on this way indefinitely…
Logan got to his feet. It was an impossible situation, but one he just had to deal with. Cinnamon was the important one here: her needs had to come first. And it was crystal clear to him that she had to have Isabella in her life.
The problem was, so did he.
She was waiting for him when he got home, even though it was late. Logan had taken a detour and had stopped at the gym, thinking a workout would help him clear his head. But it soon became apparent there weren’t enough treadmill hours in a day, given the shit he was dealing with.
“It didn’t go well?”
The anxiety was written all over her face. She was sitting at the kitchen table, reviewing what looked like a shopping list. But she put her pen down and bit her lip in worry as he threw his keys on the counter.
“No, it didn’t fucking go well. She never showed,” he said, the anger clear in his voice. “Desiree. Nothing. No lawyer, no representative, and no her. Do you believe that shit? I don’t know what she’s thinking, what she’s planning. I also don’t know why she would go to all the trouble of filing a suit, and then just drop the whole thing.”
He expected her to react coldly to his rage, misdirected at her. And in a way, that would have been a good thing. But she surprised him once again.
“Oh, my God.” Isabella reacted more out of sympathy for Cinnamon than anything else. “Who does this? Just blows off a hearing to determine what happens to her child?” She shook her head in disbelief.
Logan shrugged. “They dismissed the case.” His eyes met hers, and they were filled with meaning. “They don’t know I have the baby.”
“Ah.” She sank back into her chair. “So you didn’t tell them?”
“No. I don’t know what they will do. And I’m not willing to take that kind of a chance where Cinnamon is concerned.”
“I see.” Her brow knitted thoughtfully as she digested this news. “So what now?”
“I think it would be better to handle this privately,” he said, dropping in the chair across from her. “At least then I can have some say in the outcome. I need to hire a detective, someone who can find Desiree without notifying the authorities. Someone who will work for me.”
“That’s a great idea.” Isabella lit up at the notion. “They can find people pretty easily these days once they locate a cellphone. And with the courtroom documentation, you probably have some good information on her. Like her Social Security number.”
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s a start, at least. When I stopped by her house, her neighbor didn’t know anything, but that could have changed. Maybe she’s forwarded her mail. Maybe he’ll remember a friend or family member. I don’t have time to do this on my own, so it makes sense to hire some help.”
“And what about the DNA test?”
The question hung in the air for a long moment. Could he tell her his reasoning? Could he trust her that much?
He didn’t have a choice. She’d never understand if he didn’t let her in. “I’ve been giving that a lot of thought. If it turns out she’s mine, I’d have some rights. But what if she isn’t?”
“I know. I mean, you would be justified not to assume responsibility for a child that isn’t yours, but what would happen to her? What would become of Cinnamon?”
“Right. That’s the part that stops me cold.” He gave a deep shudder, battled internally, gave up, and then looked directly into her eyes. “I’m going to tell you something I’ve never shared with another human being. It’s not pretty. You cool with that?”
“Yes. Believe it or not, I know a lot of not pretty.”
“When I was a kid, I lived in the U.K. with a host family,” Logan said slowly, surprised at the shame that washed over him even as he recalled the memory. His throat ached and his stomach tightened, but he forced himself to continue. “Their son, Addison, he was just a kid himself. But I woke up one night, and he was…trying to touch me. Sexually.”
“Oh my God.” The color drained from her face, and Logan saw the horrified tension in her eyes.
“I kicked him out, and the fucker blamed me. When I got home, nobody said a fucking word. But I got the message. I don’t know if my parents thought I’d instigated it; that’s the story the shithead told his family. Or if they thought it was curiosity or some shit. In any case, I learned firsthand what could happen to a kid in that situation. Alone with strangers. No one to go to, no one to help. I just can’t—”
“Risk that for Cinnamon. I’ve got it.”
Thank Christ, her voice was full of sympathy and emotion. Not judgment. Not scorn. The fear Logan had been carrying fell away like a suit of armor he didn’t know he was wearing. Tenderness and relief bloomed inside him, and a crystal-clear thought came to him: This woman was a keeper.
Sucking in a breath, he was surprised to realize his pulse was still pounding. “So that’s why I didn’t get the test. I think the best thing to do, if you don’t mind, is to keep Cinnamon here where she’s well cared for. I don’t think I could live with myself if she wound up in a bad situation.”
“I don’t mind at all. I think that’s a very good plan.”
Thank God, he thought. She is staying.
They were no longer talking about a short-term position; this was a situation that could go on for years. While Isabella had made it clear she would travel with him when local, there were still occasions when he would be gone for long periods of time and she would be handling Cinnamon on her own. That was a lot of responsibility for anyone.
So he was further surprised when she got up and came to stand beside him. “I have to tell you something,” she said softly. “I really admire what you are doing for Cinnamon.”
“Thanks.” An unfamiliar emotion consumed him, and he swallowed hard. Why the fuck was she standing so close to him like this? Didn’t she know what it did to him? Physically, he could feel a pull toward her so strong it took all his effort to remain seated. Yet, unwillingly, his hand took hers and he squeezed it hard.
She withdrew it a moment later, as if understanding everything he was feeling, and making it perfectly clear there were boundaries between them.
He got it. “So I guess I’m still your employer,” Logan said, his voice filled with regret. “Which means…”
“We can’t get romantically involved.” She finished the sentence for him.
“Right.” He stared at her longingly, feeling a hunger so deep it hurt. “It would be a huge mistake.”
“Huge. And then it would be hard to work together, and that would affect Cinnamon.”
“I’m glad we can be so rational about these things,” Logan replied, softly touching her cheek, then his hand drifted lower to caress her neck with the back of his forefinger. “And discuss them openly.”
“I totally agree with your position,” Isabella said, but she swallowed hard as his second finger joined the first. “We are two intelligent adults, and can see past all that high school stuff. This is the right decision for everyone involved.”
She got up and started to walk past him, but he caught her and pulled her into his arms. Isabella looked up at him, startled, and he grinned at her expression.
“What the fuck. I’ve always wanted to go back to high school.”
His mouth took hers.