“I’d better go. I promised Victoria, I’d take her to a cancer group meeting tonight.”
Ella languished in his apartment with her legs stretched along his as they lay comfortably on his couch facing each other.
“How has she been?”
“Rotten.”
Zane pushed her hair off her face as she turned away and looked out into his courtyard. He could tell when Victoria was on her mind.
“I feel guilty for being so healthy and …” She turned back, and Zane connected with her blue depths.
Something lodged in his throat, and he coughed to clear it, “And?”
“And … and happy.” Tears brimmed behind her eyelashes. She blinked to clear them; misery etched on her usually smiling face.
He settled beneath her and cupped her face. “Do you mean that?”
She smiled, hesitantly at first, before she dropped down beside him and latched her mouth onto his earlobe. It only took a few nibbles to render him weak and useless. He didn’t let on though.
Near his ear, she said, “Thanks for being a good listener.” She groaned before adding, “I can’t believe what a crazy week it’s been. My lunch hour will never be the same again.”
He could tell she smiled against his cheek, regardless of how worried she was about her sister. No doubt she was thinking the same things he was. On their first meeting at the Botanical Gardens, they’d found a secluded grove housing the perfect bench. Their bottoms had barely touched the seat when their mouths had fused and their hands had explored—as much as his business suit and her smart work outfit had allowed. As bad as it sounded, lust counted for everything. With scarcely five minutes to spare, Zane had raced back to the office while shoving down his sandwich.
“It’s starting to get serious. My indigestion that is.”
She laughed and he joined her. It was a relief to take her mind off the seriousness of Victoria’s illness, even for a few minutes.
“I ended up sneaking into the office with about thirty seconds to spare, then hid my lunch in the top drawer and took small bites when no one was near.” Ella confessed.
At her revelation, he shook with mirth. The same scenario in the park was repeated on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. He was beyond help, now. He didn’t think he could cope without seeing her every day. Not seeing her beautiful face and hungry mouth on Friday had nearly killed him.
When their laughter died down, he prepared himself for her departure. He was glad she was able to sneak in these few hours with him, but her guilt for not spending more time with Victoria was evident. Victoria was suffering the worst possible effects of her latest chemo treatment, so Zane understood where Ella’s priorities were. He had to let her go without making a fuss.
Ella’s reluctance to introduce him to her family was a good thing. She kept apologising, and promised she would do so once Victoria got over this bout of sickness. But Zane didn’t push the issue. The last person he wanted to meet was Ella’s mother. He had an inkling she would recognise his name and face, and he wanted to be better prepared before they met. He wasn’t any further advanced with his search, though he’d compiled a long list of Tiffany stores that had been trading when Ella was born.
He gently kneaded her back. It stilled when she sighed. “You okay?”
“Victoria is starting to lose her beautiful hair. It’s coming out in clumps, and it’s so awful to watch. Chemo has so many side effects.”
He tightened his hold around her and squeezed. “You often hear of cancer patients cutting their hair short before it falls out.”
“I know. We talked about it, but I think she was trying to delay it for as long as possible. This morning she was in tears and threatened to do something soon. To make matters worse, she won’t go out because she’s too scared of catching something and doesn’t want friends to visit in case they have a cold. Being stuck indoors is depressing her.”
He found her forehead and pressed lightly, and her heart beat a rapid blip against his own. It hurt his chest to know the pain she and her family were experiencing, but he didn’t know what else to do. Apart from distracting her when she was able to spend time with him and provide comfort when she was feeling down, he was at a loss. He wanted to be her safe haven, a place she could come to when she needed time out.
Zane let her lay quietly while he drank in her eucalyptus scent, the heady smell doing a good job of relaxing all his muscles. He closed his eyes and savoured the image of their bodies entwined on the couch. Being with this woman lent him a sense of everything falling into place.
She stirred and muttered something.
He opened his eyes. “I know you have to go, and that you’re sad and not in the mood, but would you like me to take your mind off things? I promise I won’t keep you longer than ten minutes.”
He could feel her smile against his neck. “You have to ask?”
“Hey, that was me asking nicely.” He feigned shock, finding and hungrily biting her earlobe this time.
She moaned and writhed. It sent all the right messages to different parts of his body.
“You’re right,” she said. “I am feeling down. I could use another ten minutes of your attention to get me through the rest of the day. How about we roll onto the floor so we have more space?”
He gripped either side of her hips and aligned her squirming body over his. “I say my bed has plenty of room and is comfier.”
She chuckled as she found his mouth and grabbed his bottom lip between her teeth. When she freed him, she whispered in a throaty voice, “I can’t. That’ll take longer than ten minutes.”
Zane laughed and slid off the couch, taking her with him. She must have grabbed the cushions on the way down, because he felt their softness beneath his head. He shifted her shirt and unsnapped her bra so it now hung loosely under her shirt. His gaze found hers and held it.
The battle between them had begun. That’s what he loved about her; she gave as good as she got. When her mouth slammed onto his, they each raced to take what they could. The scrape of her teeth, wherever they touched, had his veins throbbing, his heart ready to explode. It left his body on fire, a pile of ashes dumped on the ground, whenever she drew away. Already, Sunday afternoon was a lifetime away.
He pushed her shirt up, determined to have his share. He found a nipple and closed around it, enjoying its softness. Her breathing was rushed and ragged near his ear. He held back, trying to be gentle. She obviously didn’t want gentle. She clung to his hair and pulled down hard, her fingers twisting around his short strands.
He took a risk and closed his teeth around her nipple. It was enough for a groan from Ella to reverberate around his head. Enough for his heart to crash like a drum. Too much for his rock-hard appendage begging to be released.
She pulled away suddenly, leaving him dizzy. “You’re dangerous. Has it been ten minutes yet?”
He sat up, shaking and with his chest aching. She pulled her shirt down leaving her bra loose. She appeared as breathless as he was, though his lungs slowly started to function again. “I think it was only eight.”
She laughed and gathered herself up before reaching under her shirt to fasten her bra. When she was done, she rose and looked down at him. Her smile slipped away as she chewed on her bottom lip. “I really need to go.”
Zane stood up and reached for her.
“No, no, don’t.” She took a step back. “If you touch me, I’ll never leave.”
He understood. This thing between them had come about with lightning speed and had left his head reeling. No matter what happened, his life was never going to be the same again.
“Okay. I’ll let you walk out. I’m riding up to visit the folks tomorrow and I’ll be back after lunch. Can I see you then?”
She bunched up her hair neatly and retied the ponytail. “I’d like that.”
A whoosh of air left his lungs as he sighed with relief. Relaxing against the wall, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Deal,” then he let her go home without any further fuss.
His knees shook, then he landed on the floor in his mum’s office with a thump.
Shit.
A quick glance was all he’d needed. His father’s and brothers’ birth certificates were legitimate—his mother’s and his own were not.
Luck had sided with him that morning when he’d arrived in time for his mother’s usual delicious breakfast. His mother had a Tupperware party to attend and his father had given his word to help an old mate repair his mower. Zane wished them a good day, waved them off, and promised to lock up the house when he left. He could stay as long as he wanted, but the rush to get back in time to see Ella drove all other thoughts from his head. Check the birth certificates then get the hell back home. Fast.
Only now his legs wouldn’t move. He didn’t know what he’d expected to find. He sure as heck hadn’t wanted to find fraudulent documents. They even smelled suspiciously like the paper Ella’s certificate and her mother’s were printed on, even though he knew that would be impossible after all these years. But the fraudulent details were clearly there. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t seen them.
Now what?
What sort of secret was his mother keeping? Did his father know about any of this? Zane was close to leaving deep gouge marks on his scalp if he didn’t stop scratching. He stretched his legs instead, hoping it might send the images in his head away.
It didn’t.
Discovering fraudulent certificates only made him more confused, unrested and lost. Made him feel as if he didn’t belong anywhere. Yet all his life he’d been led to believe they were a family. They weren’t. He and his mother had come from a different place. He didn’t doubt the link he had to her. He just didn’t know what it was.
His thoughts returned to the warning he’d given Ella. Except his advice meant jack-all, because he knew deep down, he could never have prepared himself for this news. There must be a reason his mother had gone to all this trouble to hide her past. Finding it would open a big wound he wasn’t sure he wanted.
Find it, though, he would. Where to start? He had no idea.
He held up his birth certificate again. It hurt like blazes to read ‘Father, unknown.’
Damn. How had he lived all his life never once setting eyes on this sheet of paper? No wonder his mother guarded it fiercely.
He bit hard on his bottom lip as moisture crowded his eyes. He’d be damned if he allowed a single tear to trickle down his cheeks. Hell, he hadn’t cried in years. There’d been no need. His life was good. He was happy and healthy. Had a great family. Now had the attentions of a gorgeous woman. What more did a man need?
The truth.
Zane blinked back the moisture and rolled his shoulders. He stared into space, not seeing anything except for the ‘Father, unknown’ line tattooed behind his eyelids.
How long he sat like that, he had no idea.
The laugh of a kookaburra outside the window broke his trance. He rose, his legs still shaking, and sighed.
Treat this like another investigation.
Yeah, sure.
Zane wasn’t stupid. He knew whatever he unearthed could tear his life and his family apart. It was possible that he might not share DNA with his father, but he loved him with every fibre of his being.
Turning to the printer, he scanned copies to take with him. Another chat with his boss was necessary after this discovery. What advice would Mr Wilson give him? Like with Ella’s situation, there wasn’t a single clue Zane could draw on, except for the photo of their mothers.
Zane placed the certificates back where he’d found them—in the office, with every pen and paperclip in its exact position. After he locked the door of his parents’ home, he stood wistfully on the front porch, nervous about the weeks ahead. He let his gaze wander to the distant mountain peaks. Now he would need Ella to keep his mind distracted.
He knew the pitfalls of unearthing long-buried secrets. He fully understood the risks and the one hundred or so reasons to leave things alone. This was what his training had taught him, except it didn’t apply to him. Not anymore.
He donned his leather jacket and gloves, and made his way to the garage where he’d left his bike. Hunched over, helplessness dragged him down.
He would need to approach his parents. He was in the same scenario as Ella, and the same advice applied—he needed a name. Right now, he had nothing. Not even the suggestion that his dad wasn’t his biological father.
As he hoisted himself onto his bike, he was certain of one thing. There had to be a connection between him and Ella. But what? The photo of his mother and Ella’s burned a hole in his side.
He gasped, whipping his face up. “Shit.”. His mother’s photo. He’d forgotten to look at it.
Zane left his gloves on the bike seat and took long strides back to the house. Unlocking the kitchen door, he flung it back in his haste to reach the lounge room. He knelt in front of the china cabinet and glimpsed the photo shoved towards the back. Sliding the glass door open, his hand reached over trophies long ago positioned in pride of place until he held the frame. He knocked a couple of trophies over as he snaked his arm back to where he sat, the photo firmly in his hand. As he stared at it, his vision glazed over. He wished for all the world he’d made a mistake. But he hadn’t. It was a duplicate of the one Ella had shown him. Now there was no disputing it. A real connection existed between their mothers.
Zane righted the fallen trophies and placed the framed photo directly behind the glass door before sliding it closed. He fell to his backside in the carpeted room with his hands fisted by his side, and contemplated his next move. Minutes ticked by, but no solution came. Surely with all his experience in policing and investigating, he’d be able to think of something? There had to be a way to go forward. He hoped like blazes his boss had some ideas because he didn’t.
Okay, time to leave. He would go home first and phone Mr Wilson.
But he thought of the afternoon he’d planned to spend with Ella and his shoulders lost their tension.
He rose. Tomorrow would be soon enough to speak to his boss. To call off the afternoon with Ella wasn’t an option. But he did have to constantly push aside the niggle of guilt rearing its ugly head. He needed to tell Ella about the connection between their mothers, but he wanted to learn more first. He was always one for doing his research thoroughly.
She would understand when he told her. Right?
He locked the house again and made his way back to his bike. Climbing on and kick-starting it, he wheeled it onto the road, considering the evidence he’d gathered from Ella as he took off down the street. Re-thinking any missed clue he might’ve overlooked. He would need to use Ella’s clues to solve his own mystery.
An idea came to him as he gathered speed. Should he use this time alone at his parents’ home to search cupboards and hidden spaces? The temptation was there, along with the fear lodging itself in his chest. What if he didn’t like what he found? Did the advice he’d given Ella not apply to him? Shit. It wasn’t like he could sit back and do nothing. If only the possibility of damaging his family could be forgotten. He would barrel his way forward and find the answers. Confront his parents.
No, he wasn’t up for that this afternoon, and the lure of seeing Ella was too strong. But he would return soon and conduct a search. There had to be something, somewhere—something only obvious when you needed to find it. No doubt it had been staring him in the face all along, if only he’d known to look for it. He was desperate enough to find any clue that would give him answers as to why his father was unknown.
At the intersection that led onto the highway, about two kilometres from his family’s home, it struck him. My God, the newspaper clipping. He’d read it countless times, never making the connection. He’d read and re-read the list of Tiffany stores, but the place names had meant nothing. Until now; it all came together with one almighty bang and made perfect sense.
One of the lines in the article ended with ‘Bo’. Another line started with ‘setts’. The list of Tiffany stores was seared onto his brain. Why hadn’t he seen it before? It now seemed too easy. The city the newspaper clipping was written about was Boston, Massachusetts. This was where he needed to concentrate his search.
He shook his helmeted head and reprimanded himself for not seeing the clue earlier. God knew how many times he’d read the article. This was the kind of thing that set apart a good investigator from an exceptional one. With dismay, he realised an exceptional one would have picked it up a lot sooner. Thank goodness this job was only a fill-in leading onto the next. He had never felt so incompetent and lacking in skills.
The blare of a horn startled him.
In his periphery, he glimpsed a black utility, only metres away. Too late, he realised he hadn’t given way at the intersection. He swerved, but the vehicle collided with his bike, ramming into the rear end. It sent him and the bike hurtling and skidding on its side along the bitumen. Near the edge of the road, the bike rolled over Zane’s hurting body and he groaned with pain. Then his head struck a signpost and everything went dark.