Ella recognised Zane straight away. Though she was hiding behind her sunglasses, she didn’t want to appear too eager and only turned her head slightly to watch his approach. It was hard to miss the way his denim shorts hugged his legs, the muscles on his thighs stretching them with each step. She imagined running her hands over his strong thighs. Ugh. Stop it. The day before she’d imagined her hand against his stubble, today his legs.
When he was only a pace away, she straightened and wiped her palms against her black yoga pants. His dark European complexion didn’t make it any easier to ignore his good looks. A surge of adrenalin zapped through her, and the decision to wear a fitted jogging shirt started to worry her. She was sure her pulse, jumping erratically under her skin, would be obvious.
When he smiled, she melted. Her hand quivered by her side. Why? Damn it. He’s probably married.
“Ella.” He reached for her hand and engulfed it in his warmth. “Sorry, I’m a little late.”
What’s a couple of minutes in the whole scheme of things? Stupidly, she wanted to swoon. She claimed her hand back and cleared her throat. “I only just arrived myself.”
He did a cursory glance over her casual attire. She made every effort not to squirm under his gaze. When his gaze levelled with hers again, he asked, “Did I forget something?”
She frowned, not understanding.
His mouth tilted. “Are we having lunch or are we working out?”
A smile claimed her face. “I’m meeting a friend after lunch. We’re taking a Zumba class.”
His eyebrows rose. “Zumba class? Sounds interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”
Ella chuckled as she headed for an empty table. “You haven’t lived then.”
“Is that so?” he challenged. “I bet it’s a girly thing.”
She laughed—she liked his humour—and pulled out a chair. The ocean-blue sails above provided enough shade, so she removed her sunglasses and placed them in her bag. Zane sat, and his chestnut eyes continued to sweep over her face.
“You’re right. It’s a class full of females,” she admitted.
“So, I’m not likely to want to go?”
“Not unless you like the idea of being in a room full of sweaty women moving to fast music.”
He perched his elbow on the table and rested his face on his hand, appearing to seriously contemplate his response. But the gleam in his eyes gave him away. “I’m not sure I could handle all of that.”
She contained her laughter but blurted, “This is ridiculous.” Why was she so relaxed in his company all of a sudden? She shook her head. Go figure.
His hands rose in defence. “Sorry if I’m offending you, but you started it.”
Ella smiled, certain he wasn’t sorry one bit. “I suppose we should get this over and done with.”
He sat back. “What? Lunch?”
She groaned. That had come out all wrong. “No, sorry, I meant … um … did you bring my keys?”
“Oh that. I thought, like most women, you might have wanted all the initial questions out of the road. You know hobbies, sports, do I have a nickname and am I married?”
“Hey,” she said, acting offended, “I’m not the investigator. That’s your job.”
It was his turn to laugh, and the sound of it surrounded her like a safety net. “How did we get from Zumba to that?”
In their own intimate space, they flirted—she knew the signs—and the rest of the world faded into the background. She was enjoying this, and the purpose of their lunch was relegated to the side.
“So, um, did you bring my keys?”
His eyebrows rose. His hand delved into the depths of his shorts pocket, and she heard the familiar tinkle of the tiny bell attached to her keyring.
He reached across the table, captured her hand and placed the set of keys on her palm. Using both hands, he wrapped her fingers around the keys, lingering for a fraction of a second before withdrawing.
She gulped when their eyes met across the table. She had her keys back, so why were her hands trembling?
“Thanks.”
He was the first to stumble back to normality. “So, will I get it over and done with?”
She reached for her bag and put her keys away. Any excuse to look away. But her gaze was dragged back to his hands, sinewy fingers and all, lightly tapping the tabletop.
When she looked up, he leaned forward, his chestnut eyes fixed on her. “I don’t smoke, my nicknames are too embarrassing, I jog or go to the gym when I feel like it, I eat junk food sometimes, I’m neither married nor rich, and I have one passion I might share with you.”
Passion. She wished he hadn’t used that word. It was enough to burn—her skin flamed up. Heck. Had she really started this stupid conversation? If so, she deserved everything she got. “Er, should we order lunch?”
Seconds marched on with her breath caught in her throat. This was the step after flirting, and she was damn certain he felt something, too. Or was it her imagination?
“Did you bring the birth certificates?” he asked, slowly picking up the menu.
She nodded, doing the same. She had located her mother’s only minutes before Victoria and her mother had arrived home the day before, and this morning, she’d made copies to leave with Zane, hoping to return her mother’s by the end of the day. She reached into her bag and handed them across the table.
He smiled, “Great. Let’s order and get this investigation under way.”
After they’d ordered, Ella witnessed a fleeting moment of uncertainty on Zane’s face. He held the original birth certificates in his hand and caught his bottom lip in his teeth.
“Did you find out where your mother went camping?” Zane asked.
She recalled the stilted conversation she’d started the previous night. Her mother, as expected, was agitated when Ella had brought the subject up. She was concerned about how sick Victoria was, they all were, but Ella had gently persisted.
“She told me it was in Mount Isa. I know that’s where she met my step-dad. He was a newly appointed engineer straight out of university, and she worked in administration.”
He nodded but didn’t ask anything further.
She’d been relieved her mother had conceded that small piece of information. It’d been the hardest father-related conversation she’d had with her mother, but the pressure to uncover a clue before today’s lunch meeting had reached an impossible level, and she felt she’d had no choice.
Her mother had shown all the usual signs of agitation and nervousness—which was starting to make sense to Ella if her mother was hiding something.
Zane avoided eye contact with Ella and pretended to study the birth certificates. He didn’t need to any further. Frauds. Both of them. Her mother was no sooner born in Sydney than Ella was born in Mount Isa. So where were they born? He would have to establish that first. In a lot of cases, a birthplace provided the answers for everything else. Was Ella’s mother under a witness protection programme? Was she running away from a crime? Someone had helped her with the fraudulent certificates, which would’ve required a lot of money, especially a quarter of a century ago.
He mulled over the documents, not surprised to see ‘unknown’ next to ‘father’s details’, and his expert eye picked out the fraudulent pointers he’d learned to recognise from his early days at the investigative company—those finer details a cursory glance would easily miss.
But the facts remained unchanged. Ella was paying their firm to find her father, only without a name they couldn’t progress. She needed to know this. He might officially close the case, but that didn’t mean he would stop looking for answers—unofficially.
Their lunch arrived. Distractedly, he picked up one half of his toasted sandwich and took a bite, studying the certificates. Okay, so where to start? After today, where did he search for information? It was a safe bet to concentrate his search on the period between Ella’s birth and her third birthday, when her mother married. Except where did he begin? Which city in America? Hell, which state?
He looked up. Ella concentrated on her lunch, her body tense.
He put his sandwich down. “Ella?”
Her face whipped up.
“Is there any chance your mother knows more about who might have fathered you?”
Her shoulders sagged when she placed her fork down. “It always upsets her to talk about it. She’s never changed her story, and … and I have this feeling she’s keeping a secret.”
Tell me about it. My mother too.
Dejectedly, she leaned forward on her elbows and cradled her chin. “I mean, she must have some idea of who it was, even if she narrowed it down to three or four men.” Moisture glazed those amazing blue eyes when she flicked her gaze up. “But she won’t say a word and I haven’t got the heart to upset her at the moment.”
Zane placed the birth certificates down. He finished his sandwich and let her eat more of her lunch before he said, “The fact remains that without a name our search becomes impossible. Even if you try the Salvation Army, they’ll have the same problem.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’ll discuss it with my boss, but we had a similar case a year ago and our hands were tied. Eventually, the client’s mother confessed, making our search a lot easier.”
She toyed with her fork, spinning it in circles on the tablecloth. She sat hunched over her plate and must’ve decided she’d had enough to eat.
“The truth is I’m a little scared of what I might uncover.” She glanced up again, a sad lilt to her mouth. “I told myself I’d make an attempt and if I found nothing, I’d give it up. Maybe later, once we know Victoria has pulled through, I might try talking to Mum again. I’ll tell her about the little box I discovered, and she’ll have to come up with some answers for that. Maybe you can help then.”
“What?” Suddenly fearful that he’d have no reason to see her beautiful smile again, he lifted his hands in defeat and asked, “Do I have to wait that long before I see you again?”
Her dejected look transformed into a smile that speared him through the chest. “Did you have something in mind?”
He leaned back and rested his hands behind his head. “As a matter of fact, I do. How would you like to come for a bike ride tomorrow morning?” This was the make-or-break scenario he’d thought of earlier.
Her eyes widened.
He would have to cancel his usual visit home and would ride in the opposite direction. No way would he bring Ella anywhere near his mother. Not yet. The photo proved she was the clone of an old friend—his mother would see it straight away. He was not going to be responsible for shattering his family’s tight-knit unit. Not until he had concrete proof of … something.
“On a motorbike?”
He nodded and rested his hands on his thighs.
Guarded, she said, “Can’t say I’ve done that before.”
He caught her wary expression. “Well, then, you haven’t lived.”
It took her a moment to catch on. When she did, she fell into irresistible laughter. Her smile transformed her face in unimaginable ways. It left his head spinning with possibilities.
“Is this the passion you spoke of?”
“Yes.”
As her laughter subsided, the thought of sitting close together ran riot through his mind.
“Is that a yes?”
She nodded. “If you let me pay for lunch today.”
He narrowed his eyes and frowned. “What? You think I made the offer so you could fix up the bill?”
She leaned back. Was his scowl scaring her? “No, it’s … it’s just that I don’t expect you to pay.”
He rose a little hastily and pushed his chair in. “Yeah, I know, these days everything has to be equal rights. But today I’m paying and I’m inviting you for a ride.”
Hell, that hadn’t come out right. Take it easy boy, you don’t want to scare her away.
He made an effort to soften his glare. “Well, you know what sort of ride I mean.”
Geez, why couldn’t a man pick up the tab without a fuss? He’d been accused before of being too old-fashioned. Had he upset her? She worked in an environment where she was up against a man every turn she took, with no love lost between them as they jostled their way up the corporate ladder. His offer to pay all the costs of their lunch was as foreign to her as him speaking in Mandarin.
She reached for her handbag and rose, and his stomach dropped with dread.
“Was that a yes?” He hoped she hadn’t changed her mind. Why was he so desperate for her to come?
He thought he witnessed relief crossing her face, he couldn’t be sure, but her nod of agreement was music to his ears. Well, some sort of music whistled around his head.
“What do I wear?”
He tried to breathe normally, not sure if it was her acceptance of his invitation or her tight-fitting outfit now back in view. “Jeans and closed-in shoes. I have a spare leather jacket and helmet.”
She moved a step closer. “Where will I—?”
“Meet me at my place.”
She looked up, worry lining her face. “Thanks. I’d like to avoid home for a while. I don’t want to seem like I’m having a great time when things aren’t fantastic for my family.”
He nodded. “Okay.” Definitely the best move. What if her mother recognises me? Let me do some serious digging around first. The longer we can avoid meeting each other’s family the more time I have.
As he led the way to the cashier, the pulse on the tips of his fingers tingled as they rested on her shoulder. Now to get to the bottom of this mystery.