ROGER’S WORDS SLAMMED into Claire’s gut. “What?” she managed to say.
“I think you heard me.” There was vindictive satisfaction in Roger’s voice. “Your nephew’s father wants custody of his son.”
Claire closed her eyes, fighting off the stunned shock threatening to swamp her. “I didn’t expect this, even from you, Roger.”
“This isn’t personal, Claire. This is business.” A sly, gloating note of triumph underlined his words. “You never were able to tell the difference.”
Ten years ago, the condescending superiority in Roger’s voice would have made her flinch. Now it made her angry. “I know the difference, Roger,” she said sharply. “I’ve been running my own business for several years now.”
He paused a beat too long. “Your own business? What kind of business?”
“I don’t think that’s relevant.” She closed her eyes, struggling to control her emotions. She’d defeated Roger ten years ago. He had no power over her. “What do you want, Roger?”
“I told you. My client wants custody—”
“I heard that part,” she interrupted. “What do you want? Besides humiliating me, I mean.”
There was silence at the other end of the phone. Then Roger said, “You always did exaggerate, Claire. I see that hasn’t changed.”
“What do you want, Roger?” she repeated.
“We need to meet,” he said. “I’ll stop by your house later this morning.”
“No, you won’t,” she answered in a pleasant, businesslike voice. “I’ll come to your office. I can spare you some time at…” She flipped some pages, as if checking a schedule. “I can come by at eleven o’clock.”
There was a pause. Then Roger said, “Fine,” in a sulky voice.
“I’ll see you then,” Claire answered, hanging up the phone without waiting for a response.
She wiped her damp hands on her shorts and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Roger was merely trying to cause trouble, she told herself. He had no idea who Nick’s father was. No one did.
But she knew Roger well enough to recognize that gleeful tone in his voice. He was very certain that he’d outwitted her.
Was it possible he’d discovered who Nick’s father was?
There was only one way to find out.
AT ONE MINUTE before eleven, Claire adjusted the jacket of her best black business suit and opened the door to Roger’s office. An older woman sat at the reception desk, looking at a magazine. When Claire walked in, she tilted her head.
“May I help you?”
The receptionist’s gaze was cool and assessing, but there was no spark of recognition in her eyes. Claire gave her an impersonal smile. “I’m here to see Roger. I have an appointment at eleven.”
The woman gazed down at her appointment book and frowned. “I don’t see anyone down for eleven o’clock.”
“Roger must have forgotten to tell you,” Claire said, sitting down and reaching for a magazine. She began reading without having any idea of what the words meant.
“I’ll check,” the woman said after a moment.
She disappeared into Roger’s office and reappeared a few minutes later. “He’ll be right with you.”
“Fine,” Claire murmured, knowing Roger would make her wait at least fifteen minutes. “I can spare five minutes.”
When six minutes had passed, Claire stood up and smoothed her skirt. The receptionist looked up, startled.
“Tell Roger to call me for another appointment. I had to squeeze this one in, and I can’t wait any longer.”
“Wait a minute.” The receptionist jumped to her feet. “Let me check with him before you leave.”
Moments later Roger appeared in his office door, a brittle smile on his face. “Come on in, Claire,” he said. “I’m glad you could come by.”
“You’re lucky I had an opening in my schedule.”
Roger stood at the door, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. She smiled inside at the shock in his eyes. She’d dressed very carefully for this meeting.
The blue shirt beneath the black silk Armani suit she wore fit her like a glove, and her shoes cost more than she used to make in a week. Her employees called the outfit her close-the-deal suit.
Roger scowled and closed the door behind her a little too hard. “Have a seat,” he muttered.
She sat and watched him, a polite smile on her face.
He met her eyes once, looking away quickly when she didn’t blink or back down.
“What is this about, Roger?” she asked.
“I told you on the phone. Your nephew’s father wants custody of him.”
“And how do you know this man is Nick’s father?”
He flashed a superior smile. “I assure you, he is.”
“I’m sure you don’t expect me to take your word for it. He has proof, I assume?” She crossed her legs and raised her eyebrows.
His smile faltered. “We’ll be requesting DNA tests.”
“So he has no proof. Who is he?”
“I’m not authorized to reveal his name at this time.”
“Really?” She held Roger’s gaze with her own. “He’s claiming to be Nick’s father but he won’t tell us his name?”
“He’s waiting for proof before he comes forward.”
“So he’s not sure he’s Nick’s father, either.”
Roger glanced down at the papers on his desk. “He thinks there’s a strong possibility.”
“There’s a strong possibility that a lot of men could be Nick’s father,” she said. Her voice was blunt. “And I’m sure he knows that.”
His grip tightened on his pen. “I’m surprised you’d talk about your sister that way. But you never did have any loyalty, did you, Claire?”
“That depends on how you define loyalty,” she said. She leaned forward, locking her gaze on his. “I define it this way. I’m not going to allow you to hurt my nephew. Or use my nephew to punish me. I’ll do whatever it takes to prevent that.”
“Are you threatening me, Claire?”
“No, I’m just telling you the way it is.” She raised her eyebrows. “Why would I threaten you? Have you done something you shouldn’t have done?”
“You’ve changed,” he said, staring at her.
“You mean because I won’t let you bully me?” She gave him a thin smile. “I grew up a long time ago. You can’t hurt me, Roger. Think very carefully before you try to get at me by hurting Nick. I won’t allow it.”
While Roger stared at her, she reached into her purse. “I’ll contact my attorney and have him get in touch with you.” She laid a business card on the desk, watched Roger’s eyes widen when he read the name on the card. Even in Monroe, Roger would have heard of Paul J. Caputo. He was one of the most powerful attorneys in Chicago.
“I’ll expect to receive all the information you have, including this man’s name and the basis of his claim to be Nick’s father. Have it ready when Paul calls you.”
She swept out of the office and didn’t pause until she was on the sidewalk. Her hand shook as she reached in her purse for her sunglasses.
“You won,” she said as she drove away from the office. “You didn’t let him bully you. You didn’t back down.”
But she was still shaking when she walked into her house a few minutes later.
CLAIRE GLANCED OVER at Nick as they cleaned up after dinner that night. Their lives had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. During dinner, she’d ask Nick about his day. He still didn’t say much, but he’d begun to tell her bits and pieces. Mostly about football practice, she admitted, but that was better than the strained silence that had accompanied their first meals together.
The angry, sullen boy was still there, but he didn’t appear quite as often. There were times when Nick seemed almost happy, enjoying the football team, making friends with his teammates. The phone had begun to ring for Nick, and judging by the blush that flooded his face once in a while, some of the callers were girls.
Nick was regaining some of his balance. Staying in Monroe had been the right thing to do, she admitted. And the therapist Nick visited once a week had helped, too.
What would happen if she told him about the man claiming to be his father?
She had no idea. But it wasn’t hard to imagine the emotional storm it would cause. She needed to talk to someone, needed some advice. Someone who would have more insights into a fifteen-year-old boy.
Tucker. She wanted to talk to Tucker.
Warning signs flashed madly in her brain, but she ignored them. Tucker had been a fifteen-year-old boy once. And he dealt with them every day. He was the perfect person to ask, she told herself. Much more logical than Judy Johnson, a woman she barely knew. Much more logical than Nick’s therapist, a man she didn’t know at all. Much more logical than anyone she could think of.
A part of her said she just wanted to see him again. She ignored that mocking voice and tried to focus on what was best for Nick. She had no idea, she realized. No idea what would be the best thing for him.
“I’m going to do my homework,” Nick said as he hung the dish towel on the rack. “If I get it finished in time, can I watch The Simpsons?”
“Yes, you can,” she said, giving him a quick smile. “Anything you need help with on your homework?”
“Nah. I have to write a stupid essay.”
“About what?”
“About the guys who wrote the Constitution. We have to write about why they did it and if it was smart or not.”
“That’s for Coach Hall’s class, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Nick scowled.
“I thought you liked Coach Hall.”
Nick kicked at the table leg. “I said he was a good coach. I didn’t say anything about his class.”
“It sounds like an interesting topic,” she said, suppressing a smile. She remembered all too well how much she’d disliked writing essays in high school. She also knew that the information in those essays was what she remembered most vividly.
Nick snorted as he headed up the stairs. After he’d disappeared into his room, she wandered out into the backyard and sat on the porch steps, wishing Tucker were sitting next to her. And it wasn’t just because she was attracted to him, she realized.
Beneath the teasing, lighthearted exterior was an intensely caring man. A man who noticed everything. A man who’d struggled with his own demons, if the shadows she’d seen in his eyes were any indication.
A man she trusted. She could ask his advice about Nick’s father, and he would give her a thoughtful, honest answer.
Before she could lose her nerve, she grabbed her cell phone and punched in his number. He’d given it to all the players on his team, as well as their parents, and she’d programmed it into her phone.
For emergencies, she’d told herself.
His phone rang three times before he picked it up. “Hall,” he said. His voice was abrupt.
“Hi, Tucker. This is Claire. Claire Kendall. Am I disturbing you?”
“Hello, Claire.” His voice lowered. “Hell, yes, you’re disturbing me. I’ve been…disturbed since I left your house on Saturday night.”
Her heart jolted in her chest and she almost said, “Me, too.” Instead she cleared her throat. “Um, I meant are you busy right now?”
“Not at all.” His voice sharpened. “Are you all right? Is Nick okay?”
“We’re both fine, but I need…I need to talk to someone. About Nick. And I thought of you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Before she could answer, he hung up. She snapped her phone closed, rubbing her damp palms on her shorts. She’d called him on impulse, and uneasiness congealed into a hard ball in her stomach. What had happened to the woman who didn’t take chances, the woman who thought everything out logically before she acted?
That woman didn’t call men on an impulse.
But Tucker Hall was on his way over to her house, and she’d have to face him in just a few minutes.
In far too short a time, she heard the crunch of his tires turning into her driveway. She hurried to the front of the house before he could ring the doorbell and alert Nick to his presence.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. She was breathless from hurrying, she told herself.
He took her hand. “I’m glad you called. What’s going on?”
“Let’s go around back.” She glanced up at Nick’s bedroom window. “I don’t want Nick to know you’re here.”
He nodded and walked around the side of the house, but he didn’t let go of her hand. When they reached the back porch, he drew her down on the step next to him.
“What’s up?” he asked, studying her face.
She took a deep, trembling breath and closed her eyes, trying to figure out the best way to tell him. “I got a phone call today,” she began, opening her eyes to watch his face. “From Roger Vernon.”
“What did he want?” Tucker asked with a frown.
“He told me…” She swallowed a hard lump of fear. “He told me he was representing a man who claims to be Nick’s father. He wants custody of Nick.”
“What? Doesn’t Nick know who his father is?”
“No, no one does. Janice never told anyone, as far as I know.”
“Including her family?”
“Especially her family.” She glanced down at their clasped hands and drew hers away. “Janice ran off after she got pregnant.”
“Do you think she told Nick’s father?”
Claire shrugged. “I have no idea. But I’d guess not. Janice was pretty wild. And very stubborn.”
Tucker slipped a strand of hair behind her ear, let his fingers linger on her cheek. Then he reached for her hands again. “Do you believe Vernon?” he asked.
She bit her lip. Why didn’t she see this coming? She had to tell Tucker. She’d asked for his advice, and her history with Roger was relevant.
She didn’t want to expose herself that way. She didn’t want Tucker to know about her past.
This was what happened when you gave into impulse, she told herself grimly.
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “He acted as though he was certain, but he didn’t have any proof. And he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, give me the man’s name.”
“Based on the way you look, I’m wondering if Vernon has another agenda,” he said softly.
“Yes,” she said. “He does.”
He didn’t say a thing. Instead he shifted closer to her.
She stared down at the porch, focusing on a nail in one of the boards that had loosened. “He’s doing it to strike at me. To punish me.”
She felt him tense next to her. “Why would he want to punish you?”
Here it was. The part of her past she wanted to hide from Tucker. The part of her past that still shamed her. “I was married to him ten years ago.”
“What?”
She heard the shock in his voice and fisted her hands in the material of her shirt. “We were married for two years. I divorced him before I left Monroe.”
“You were married to Vernon? That pimple on the backside of humanity?”
“I was young,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “There were problems with my family. I thought Roger could give me what was missing from my life.”
“So he wants to punish you because you divorced him?”
She nodded. “Roger doesn’t take losing well.”
“I know.”
She looked at him, hearing the bitterness that reverberated through his voice. “What did he do to you?”
“I got onto the wrong foot with him even before I moved here. Apparently he considers himself the most important citizen of Monroe. He didn’t like the fact that an outsider wanted to buy my house. Especially an outsider with a little bit of celebrity.” Derision filled his eyes. “My house had been vacant for years, but when he heard I’d put in a bid for it, he went to the Realtor and told her that the house was part of Monroe’s history and should be sold to someone who was a part of the town. When she told him that my bid had already been accepted, he got angry.” His mouth thinned. “He found some information about me and spread it to anyone in Monroe who would listen.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, laying her hand on his arm. “That sounds exactly like Roger. He always wants the best toy and gets angry and vindictive if he doesn’t get it.”
“Now he wants to use Nick to punish you.” Tucker picked up her hand, massaged her fingers.
“Yes.” She swallowed, trying to concentrate on her dilemma with Nick instead of the feel of Tucker’s hand rubbing hers. “But what if he’s right? What if he somehow found out who Nick’s father is? Nick has a right to know. But he’s so fragile right now. I don’t know how to tell him, or even if I should tell him.”
“Hell,” Tucker muttered, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing her palm. “You don’t ask easy questions, do you?” He gave her a wry smile, kissed her palm again. “And here I was hoping you wanted advice on a lingerie problem.”
“I wish it was that simple,” she said, feeling her throat swell.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t tease you. That was my lame attempt to make you laugh.”
He tightened his arms and she leaned against him, comforted by his size, his warmth, the steady sound of his heartbeat next to her ear. “I don’t know what to do, Tucker,” she whispered into his chest.
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “But I’ll help you figure it out.”
She didn’t show her vulnerabilities to men. She stayed in control, she guarded her emotions, she kept a careful distance. Most of all, she didn’t confide in them.
She would never allow herself to be that weak. She wouldn’t be a victim again.
Tucker Hall, a man who’d lived with violence for years, had managed to get her to break all of her rules.
The thought terrified her.
She eased away from him, away from his comfort. “Tell me what you see with Nick.”
“He’s doing better,” Tucker answered. “At football, he acts just like any other kid. He works hard, he goofs around, he seems happy to be on the team. In school?”
He stroked her hair in long, easy caresses that both soothed and stirred her. “In school he’s still pretty quiet. He doesn’t volunteer much in class. But I’ve seen him talking to other kids. I put them in work groups the other day, and I watched him. He contributed as much as anyone else. But bottom line? He still has a lot of things to deal with.”
He continued to caress her, his warm fingers brushing the nape of her neck, moving to the top of her head again. He had no idea how much his touch was affecting her.
She allowed herself to relax against him a bit more. “I know. Everything feels so brittle right now. I have no idea how he’d react if I told him someone had stepped up and said he was his father.” She swallowed again, fear tightening her throat as she reached blindly for his shirt. “And how do I tell him this man wants custody? He’s having a hard time accepting me in his life. How would he feel about a perfect stranger?”
“No court is going to force a fifteen-year-old boy to live with a stranger,” Tucker said. “Vernon was trying to yank your chain. But if the guy really is his father, he has a right to get to know his son.”
“I don’t care about some stranger’s rights,” she said fiercely. “I care about Nick and what’s best for him.”
His other arm came around her. “Nick is lucky to have you,” he murmured into her hair. “He’s lucky to have someone who cares so much.”
Had Tucker missed that growing up? He said he’d had a tough childhood. Suddenly she wanted to know with an intensity that alarmed her.
“You didn’t, did you?” she whispered.
“No. My father took off and my mother stopped caring about anything, including me. I was a wild troublemaker until my high school football coach took me in. He saved me from myself.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “Nick will never have that problem. Not with you in his life.”
When she tried to move away, he tightened his arm. “You stood up for Nick from the very beginning. Do you know how rare that is? Do you know how important that is for Nick?”
“Nick is my nephew. I love him.”
“Not everyone would be willing to take on a troubled teenager. That makes you very special.”
He spoke softly, intimately, and his breath tickled her ear. He nuzzled her neck and she closed her eyes, sinking into the sensation of being surrounded by him.
She struggled to focus on Nick, to ignore the yearning for Tucker that washed through her. “This isn’t about me. This is about Nick.”
He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. “Do you have an attorney?”
She nodded against his chest, relieved at the businesslike question. “I gave Roger his name and phone number, told him to deal with Paul.”
“Then you’re legally covered.” He stroked his hand down her back, making her feel steadier. But his touch wasn’t soothing. His hand lit small fires wherever it lingered. “So the question becomes, what would be best for Nick? Telling him now, or later?”
“I want more time with him,” she said in a low voice, trying to ignore Tucker’s hand. “More time to forge a bond. We’re making progress, but it’s slow going.”
“Is there any reason Nick has to know immediately?”
“I can’t think of one,” she said. “So I’ll wait.” She lifted her face to look at him. “I don’t want to upset Nick when I’m not even sure what information Roger has.”
He nodded. “I agree. Vernon might be blowing smoke.”
She eased out of his arms and stood up, signaling that his visit was over. She wanted to move back into Tucker’s embrace, but instead stepped farther away from him. “Thank you,” she murmured, “for coming over so quickly.”
“Anytime, Claire.” He stood up next to her, rocked back on his heels and gave her a lazy grin. “Now that we’ve solved that problem, are you sure you don’t need help with any lingerie dilemmas?”
“Positive,” she said firmly, but her mouth curved in an answering smile. “But I’ll keep you in mind if one comes up.”
“You do that.” His voice was relaxed, but his eyes gleamed with sudden energy. “I’m available anytime, day or night.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice mock-serious. “That’s very generous.”
“I try.”
He grinned at her again as they walked back around the house. At the truck, he smoothed his hand down her arm. “Besides lingerie, call me if you need help with anything. Even if you just want to talk about Nick and his father.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I will.”
Before Tucker could get into the cab, the front door slammed. When she turned around, she saw Nick charging down the stairs.
The residual glow from Tucker’s visit vanished when she saw the anger on her nephew’s face.