31

“I’m not so sure it was a mistake,” Chris said slowly.

Leigh stiffened as the import of the words sank in. “Oh God, you don’t think someone intentionally switched babies?” Total incredulity was in her voice.

“When Kira was born, she had what was then almost always a fatal heart condition. The obstetrician would have instantly known something was wrong.” He paused. “Dr. Michael Crawford was your mother’s obstetrician.”

She stared at him for a moment, then asked in a trembling voice, “Was he also Mrs. Douglas’s obstetrician?”

“Yes, and you and Kira were born within minutes of each other. According to Katy Douglas, he also found the pediatric surgeon who repaired Kira’s heart. An anonymous donor paid at least part of the bills.”

“Not Uncle Michael,” she protested. “He’s someone special. He retired five years ago to join Doctors Without Borders. He’s been in Africa almost constantly.”

“Perhaps because he feels guilty about something,” Chris said.

“No,” she said adamantly. “He wouldn’t do that; no way would he switch babies.”

“Maybe he thought he was doing everyone a favor,” he said. “Katy Douglas was barely eighteen and her husband left soon after the baby was born. He might have known the marriage was in trouble. Your mother, the one who brought you home, was thirty-five. There were no other children.”

She blinked, then looked thoughtful. “I once asked why I didn’t have any sisters and brothers. She said she was waiting for me, how precious I was. But Seth told me she’d had several miscarriages.”

“This might have been her last chance to have a child. When her child appeared to be in critical condition, maybe your uncle thought this was the best thing.”

“But how could … anyone play God like that?” Her voice broke and her eyes filled with tears. The horse behind her neighed and moved restlessly.

Leigh leaned over and soothed her. “Sorry, baby,” Leigh said. Her voice resumed a normal tone as she assured the mare, but when she turned back to him, her eyes were wide with confusion. “How could anyone …?”

He touched her face. Traced the cheekbone with a finger and pushed back a blond strand of hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s only speculation. I don’t know. No one knows how this happened but the person responsible. You know your uncle. I thought you should realize that it’s one avenue we’re exploring.”

She looked up at him. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I should know. Thank you for telling me. But I really don’t think … not Uncle Michael.”

“It’s just one of many possibilities,” he said.

“But you think it’s the right one?”

“It had to be someone in that operating room,” he said. “I’ve been talking to some physicians and most don’t think a mistake is possible under these circumstances. A critically ill child would be taken to the neonatal care unit immediately.”

She clung to him. She had more guts than he’d first thought. From what she’d said a few moments earlier, she’d been living all these years with the fact that her father killed her mother and tried to kill her. There was really no one to help her come to terms with that fact. No loving family. Only a cold, hard grandfather who had expected entirely too much. He wondered if Ed Westerfield ever knew what happened in that car all those years ago.

He realized why she’d been so reluctant to believe that she was not a Westerfield. All that pain during her growing-up years; according to Payton, she was finally coming to grips with it. Then someone comes along and pulls the rug out from under her feet again.

That still didn’t solve the immediate problem, though. Dr. Michael Crawford may have been responsible for switching the babies—or not—but he certainly wasn’t responsible for the attacks on Kira. Two crimes separated by thirty-two years. What was the connection?

“I want to see her,” Leigh said suddenly. “I want to see Katy Douglas.”

He took a step back. Looked at her face. Unshed tears glittered and made those spectacular eyes even more vivid. He and Risa had taken a Caribbean cruise after she was diagnosed. A short one just before surgery. It was something she’d always wanted but he’d never had time to take.

Leigh’s eyes looked like that sea, the incredible shades of blue meshing together.

The reminder of that vacation wasn’t as excruciating as in the past. Some of the pain was receding, replaced by good memories. Regret was still there, but it, too, was fading. He couldn’t change the past. But he could deal with it better.

Leigh Howard was doing that now.

“You’re thinking about your wife?” she said.

“Yes. I wish she’d known you, and you her. She was a brave soul. You have a lot in common.”

“I’m not brave at all. I’ve been a coward most of my life. Poor, pitiful me. I made every wrong decision that could be made. I married someone who wanted my money and …”

She didn’t have to continue. He’d seen that look in other women’s eyes. He wanted to kill the bastard.

Leigh fed the horse another sugar cube, then ran her hand along its muzzle. “It wasn’t until Max forced me to go into therapy that I realized what a total mess I was.”

He took her in his arms and leaned down. She was a small woman, smaller than Risa, and yet she fit well against him. His lips touched hers with tenderness.

He’d thought it gone after Risa’s death, that no one could touch his soul again. He hadn’t thought he wanted it touched again. The pain was too agonizing.

But now the need to touch, to comfort, to feel again was even stronger.

She stood on tiptoes. Her arms went around his neck and her lips were eager against his. There was a sweetness about her kiss, the tentativeness of her touch, that was intoxicating.

He knew she’d been married before, but her responses seemed like an awakening. He wondered whether anyone had been gentle with her before.

His fingers ran through her hair, releasing the clasp that kept it back, and it fell around her face, the silken strands tumbling over his hand.

Bad move, Burke. She’s vulnerable. She needed a friend, not someone who had another loyalty, not someone who wanted to take that blouse off and run his hands up and down her body.

Yet he didn’t stop the kiss. Instead he deepened it, his lips opening slightly. His need was strong and deep, and for a moment he allowed himself to revel in being alive again.

One of the horses whinnied, wanting attention, and he suddenly jerked away. Her hand dropped from his neck but caught his hand. “Don’t go away,” she said in a low voice.

The plea cut through him like a knife.

“I won’t,” he said. “But I promised to meet Kira and Payton at the hospital.”

“You’re sure she—Mrs. Douglas—is my mother, aren’t you?” she said hesitantly.

“Yes. I’m the one who took the cup and hair sample to the lab. I know Kira probably went about it in the wrong way, but she didn’t want to spread her anguish to other women without proof.” He paused.

“And she was in a hurry,” Leigh added caustically.

“Yes. I probably would have done the same thing had it been my wife. Or mother.”

She absorbed that. “You really think I look like her … Katy Douglas?”

“Oh yes.”

Her gaze bored into him. Then her fingers curled around his. “I’ll go with you.”

He squeezed her hand. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

His free hand touched her face. Wiped away a wayward tear that had slipped from her brimming eyes. Something shifted inside him. Maybe no one else would believe what she was doing took courage, but he knew. He knew from the struggle in her face. In those amazing eyes.

He’d tried to put himself in her position, and he couldn’t do it. He honestly didn’t know what he would do. Although giving a kidney held little immediate risk, any major operation carried some danger and if anything happened to the other kidney, she would be in trouble. He wanted to think he would do it, but he didn’t have Leigh’s history weighing him down. She wouldn’t be risking just a kidney but what little sense of belonging and home she’d managed to carve for herself.

“You’re a brave lady,” he said.

“I think that’s the nicest compliment anyone has ever given me, though I don’t think it’s true.”

“Oh, it’s true, Leigh Howard. And you’re also … very pretty.” Damn, but he was lousy at compliments. And he was getting in trouble. Deep, deep trouble. The last thing he wanted to do was pose more problems for her and create more conflicts of interest for himself.

“Do you have another of those cubes of sugar?” he asked. A diversion of sorts. For himself.

She took one from her pocket and gave it to him. He held it out to the white mare and felt the softness of her mouth as she daintily took it from his palm.

Leigh gave him an approving glance and took his hand. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Kira and Max waited in the visitors’ room for Chris Burke. Kira was already regretting asking him to meet her there.

Max faced her. “You look tired … and damned desirable.”

“Always the diplomat. Or the attorney who wants to win.”

“Right now, I’m neither. I don’t want one side to win to the detriment of the other.” He very carefully did not touch her. He wanted to. She was so obviously exhausted. And sad. Even hopeless.

But she would misconstrue whatever he did. He hadn’t missed the wariness in her eyes at times. Not always. They had definitely softened when he talked to her mother.

“I understand why you love her so much,” he said.

“Do you?” she challenged.

He paused. Considered his answer, then admitted, “Maybe not. I’m not good at families. I don’t understand that kind of …” He stopped.

“Have you never had a family?”

He shrugged. “The Westerfields came closest to it.”

“From what I understand it wasn’t a Brady Bunch family.”

He smiled slightly. “No.”

“No mother or father? No brother or sister? Not even a distant cousin lurking somewhere?”

“None of the above. I lost my mother when I was nine. I spent the next few years in various foster homes, none of which were that eager to have me there. Money, yes. Me, no.”

She rested her hand on his knee. “I’m sorry. It must have been lonely.”

“Not so. There was an independence that appealed to me. No one cared whether I was at a certain place at night. I learned a number of skills on the street.”

“How did you become one of Atlanta’s most eligible bachelors?”

“The PR firm I hired to promote Westerfield Industries. They didn’t quite understand I wanted the corporation publicized, not me. I fired them, but I was stuck.”

“Ah, a retiring lawyer.”

She was at her cynical best. He liked that side of her. Not particularly the cynicism, but the challenge in every word. She had learned not to take everything at face value. Well, so had he.

She wanted to probe deeper. That was obvious to him. But he didn’t want to go deeper.

She might understand. But she was a newspaper reporter, and his past was something he’d carefully concealed all these years. She was open. Probably the most open woman he’d ever met. She wore her emotions on her face. He didn’t want to see pity there. Or horror. Or even fear.

“Are you from Atlanta?” she continued to probe.

She was in full reporter mode, and he’d learned she was a very good one.

“No.” Hopefully the answer was short enough, and curt enough, to cut off any additional questions.

His hopes were quickly dashed.

“Where, then?”

“A place that no longer exists. It’s been paved over and made into industrial properties. It’s not a place I like remembering.”

It was a warning. Hell, it was like hitting her over the head with a hammer. His voice had chilled in a way that usually sent people scurrying for the door.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m sorry. Questions are instinctive for me. Even if I wasn’t a reporter, I would always want to know everything about everyone. I’m told it can be a very annoying trait.”

He was disarmed, and he didn’t want to be disarmed. He had no question but she would try to find out more about him. Thus far, the police had only talked to him about what he knew about the shooting, which was damned little. But they would be back with more questions.

“You said you didn’t think Leigh’s cousins could be involved. Why?”

“Seth Westerfield has a promising career. He’s the favorite for Congress. He’ll probably make a good one, as politicians go. He knows nearly everyone who counts in his district, has done favors for many of them. He wouldn’t do anything to risk his campaign. His father ran, and lost. Seth has something to prove.”

“He needs money to run,” Kira ventured.

“He’s being supported by the national party. He’s also raised a lot locally.” He hesitated, then added, “If Seth has a soft spot, it’s Leigh. He wants to break the will, but he wants to do it for Leigh. If he gets something, fine, but he would never hurt her or try to blame something he did on her.”

“You say that with certainty.”

He shrugged. “He loves her. If she wasn’t his cousin, I think … he would have gone after her.”

“And the other cousin?”

“David? He doesn’t care anything about money. Never did. Not that he needed to. His father made a lot of money and had a great money manager. In fact, I think David gave his Westerfield inheritance to charity.”

“But maybe he knew his father was involved in some way …”

“I thought about that, but I doubt he has any of the skills needed to do what’s been done these last few days. All he knows is medicine, and that’s all he cares about except his family.”

“And the housekeeper?”

“Mrs. Baker?”

She nodded.

“She was with Ed forever. He trusted her completely.”

“Is there anyone else around the house?”

“Just Rick. He’s Mrs. Baker’s nephew. But he has no motive.”

“Did you check his references?”

“I asked one of my staff attorneys to do it. He said Rick came up clean. And he is Mrs. Baker’s nephew.”

“Why does everyone call her Mrs. Baker? Why not by her first name?”

Her questions were defusing the tension between them. He wondered whether she was intentionally doing that.

“I don’t know. Ed always called her that. It was never Alma. Always Mrs. Baker. The rest of us followed his lead. It became a habit. And she never asked us to do anything else.”

Max knew now why she was such a good reporter. She was relentless.

“Maybe the nephew thought she should get more.”

“I don’t think they’re that close, and I know that Mrs. Baker was more than pleased with what she received.”

“That leaves us back at square one,” she said, disappointment in her voice.

“But you did a damn good job in summarizing. Except for one thing.”

“What?”

“Me. I might have the best motive of all. I get rid of both of you, and I can do anything I want with the trust.”

“You can shoot?”

“Yes. I could also hire someone fairly capable to try to frighten you off.”

“And make love to me at the same time?”

He found a smile forming. Dammit, but she got to the heart of the matter.

“No,” he said simply.

She took his left hand in her right one. “I suspected as much.”

“Just suspected?”

“Okay, I knew as much.”

“From the beginning?”

“Now you’re asking too much,” she said. “I was certainly attracted to you, but I couldn’t understand why you might be attracted to me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why? You’re pretty. Smart as hell. Gutsy. Interesting.”

“Interesting?” she echoed just as he had a few seconds earlier. She would have been insulted if anyone else had said it, but she sensed it was a rare compliment from him.

He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “I like interesting.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and she relaxed into it. She liked being pretty, smart as hell, gutsy. Even “interesting.” She liked being next to him. She liked the warmth of his body next to her. She liked talking to him and she liked his touch. Liked? Greatest understatement in the world.

He’d been so good with her mother. Katy had liked him. And her mother was a great judge of character.

Admit it. She trusted him. She hadn’t wanted to. He was too close to the Westerfields. He’d made it clear his loyalty—or duty—was first and foremost to Leigh Howard.

He had been open and honest about it. Just as she had been about her mother. So how could she complain? Although she’d skittered away several times, she realized it was more the fear of falling in love with him rather than actual distrust of him. There had been a certain ease between them almost from the beginning. An ease spiced by the sexual electricity that had been there from minute one.

She still didn’t know that much about him. He’d hinted at secrets. And her natural curiosity wanted to press him, but now was not the time.

She’d just started to relax when she saw Chris and Leigh approach. Leigh’s blond hair was pulled back in a long braid and she looked as elegant as ever. But her eyes were slightly red with dark rings underneath. She, too, was obviously having sleepless nights.

Kira rose and went to her. “Thank you for coming,” she said simply.

“How is she?”

“She’s sleeping now, but she would want me to wake her,” Kira said.

Leigh started to turn. “Maybe later.”

“No. Please,” Kira said. “It would mean so much to her. She keeps asking about you. I showed her a photo.” She didn’t know how Chris had convinced her to come, but now it was up to her to get her to stay.

Her heart was in her throat as she watched Leigh’s face. She recalled everything Max had said, and her heart went out to her. “It would mean a lot to her,” she said in a ragged voice.

Leigh glanced at Chris, who nodded.

“I’ll wait until she wakes,” she said.

Kira’s breath evened out. A miracle. Now she needed just one more. Just one more.