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Valentine's Secret Child
Christine Rimmer
Can he embrace the child he never knew he had? Nine years ago Kelly Bravo and Michael Vakulic went their separate ways – he to a new name and a new life, she to a family she never knew she had. And then Kelly comes across a tantalisingly familiar photo in the newspaper. Her long-lost Michael has reinvented himself – as Mitch Valentine, multimillionaire entrepreneur.As for Kelly, she’s got a new name too – mother! And a little girl with Michael’s eyes… How can she tell him the truth? How can she not?BRAVO FAMILY TIES Stronger than ever…


And then, at last, he said, “And now, it’s with great pleasure and sincere admiration that I introduce to you… Mitch Valentine.”
There was roaring. It was partly the applause and it was partly the blood spurting so fast through her veins. It made a rushing in her ears.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark suit with a snow-white shirt and a lustrous blue tie strode confidently across the stage. She thought, Chestnut-brown hair, like Michael’s.
He stepped up to the podium under the hard gleam of the spotlight. And he spoke. “Thank you, Dr Benson. I’ll do my best to live up to that glowing introduction.”
She’d known for certain in her mind when he faced the audience, but when he spoke, she knew in her heart.
The final shreds of her doubt unravelled and dropped away.
Kelly knew.
He was Michael. She had found her daughter’s father at last.
CHRISTINE RIMMER
came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything, including an actress, a sales clerk and a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job – she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at her new home on the web at www.christinerimmer.com.

Valentine’s Secret Child
Christine Rimmer


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Leena Hyat,
brilliant and tireless advocate
for so many romance authors.
Lee, your warmth and thoughtfulness
mean so much!
Chapter One
“Valentine.” Renata Thompson sighed. Dramatically. “Won’t you be mine?”
Kelly Bravo glanced over her shoulder, coffeepot in hand. “Doubtful.”
Renata let out a laugh. “Not a problem. You may be the boss, but you’re just not my type.”
Kelly filled her mug and put the pot back on the warming plate. She took the chair across from Renata. “So, then. Who’s your valentine?”
“His name is Valentine. Mitch Valentine.” Renata had the Sacramento Bee spread open on the round breakroom table. She pointed a slim brown finger at a publicity headshot of some guy. Kelly glanced at it without really looking, shrugged and sipped her coffee.
“You must have heard of him,” Renata insisted. “Guy has billions. Owns a bunch of companies. Started from zip. Now he’s written a book. Making it Happen: Change Your Mind, Transform Your Life.”
Kelly sipped again. “Sounds…uplifting. But, no. Sorry. The name’s not ringing a bell.”
Renata’s mug said Shrink. She grabbed it and took a swig of the murky breakroom brew. “He’s speaking at Valley University tonight. I may have to go. Whether he changes my life or not, he is superhot. And as rich as they come. Hot and rich. Does it get any better?”
“Well, now.” Kelly raised her own mug high. “A good sense of humor. Gotta have that.”
“Honey, if he’s rich and hot, he doesn’t need to make me laugh. We’ll spend our lives shopping—and having sex.”
“I am shocked, I tell you.” Kelly put on her most disapproving frown. “Shocked.”
Renata spun the paper around and slid it across to Kelly’s side of the table. “Look.” She plunked her finger down hard right above the photo of Mr. Hot-and-Rich. “Tell me you’d pass up a chance with that.”
Kelly groaned. “Sorry. Not interested. I’m a single mom with a full-time job. I don’t have time to go chasing after some Tony Robbins wanna-be.”
“The eyes alone. In-tense. Look.”
So Kelly looked. “Oh, my. He’s very…” The words trailed off. “Not possible,” she heard herself whisper.
“’Scuse me?”
But Kelly didn’t answer. She stared at the photo and couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
From somewhere far, far away Renata was asking, “Kelly? Kelly, are you all right?”
She was not all right. Not in the least. Because she knew those eyes. That mouth. That straight slash of brow…
Michael.
He looked…older.
But of course he would, wouldn’t he? It had been a decade, after all.
His face, once hollow-cheeked, had filled out. His shoulders—what she could see of them—were broader. Much broader. He seemed, in the photo, so…confident. This man looked as if he was ready to take on the world, a mover and shaker if ever there was one, the polar opposite of the boy she had loved.
But still. She would know those eyes and that mouth anywhere. Her thin, withdrawn video-game-obsessed high-school sweetheart, Michael Vakulic, had become someone named Mitch Valentine.
“God. Kelly. Are you—”
“Fine.” Kelly forced herself to lift her head and aim a smile at the dark, exotic face across the table. “I’m fine.” She played it light, pretended to fan herself. “Whew. You’re right. The guy is hot.”
Renata’s worried frown faded. “Told you so.” Now she was looking exceedingly smug. She reached to take the paper back.
But before she completed the action, Carol Pace, the center’s business manager, appeared in the open doorway. “Renata. I need the file on the J. Carera family.”
Renata was one of the four family counselors Kelly had on staff at Sacramento County Family Crisis Center. The woman was amazing with families in trouble, but not so hot at keeping on top of her paperwork. “It should be there. Filed under C.”
“No kidding. Not there.”
“All right, all right. I’m coming…” Shaking her curly head, Renata got up and followed Carol out.
There was no one else in the breakroom. Kelly had never been so grateful to be left alone in her life.
Ordering her hands to stop shaking, she folded the paper with Michael’s picture on it, grabbed her coffee and stood on shaky legs. Once upright, she raced out the door and down the hall, sloshing coffee as she went.
At last, she reached her corner office. She darted inside, then stuck the paper under her arm to free a hand so she could close the door and turn the lock.
The lock clicked shut. She leaned her forehead against the doorframe and whispered desperately, “It can’t be him, no way it’s him….”
Her heart was galloping like a hundred wild horses. She sucked in a long breath, let it out with agonized slowness and ordered her pulse to stop pounding so loud she couldn’t hear herself think.
God. Her whole body was shaking. She’d splashed coffee on the back of her hand—and her shoes, as well.
With another deep breath, she pushed off from the door, turned and made herself walk to her desk. She set her coffee cup on the stone coaster, where her nine-year-old daughter, DeDe, had personally painted a stick-figure deer along with the words Mommy, you’re a dear in shiny pink letters.
The newspaper slid out from under her arm and flopped to the floor. Swearing under her breath, she grabbed it up, slapped it down on the desk and whipped out a few tissues from the box by her computer monitor.
She wiped the coffee off the back of her hand and then slipped off one tan suede shoe and then the other, to try and get the coffee off of them. Were they ruined? She’d take a brush to them when she got home. But at the moment, a wrecked pair of shoes was the least of her problems.
Michael. Oh, God. Michael…
Her phone rang. She punched Hold without picking up, then buzzed the receptionist. “Melinda, I’m in the middle of something here.” Well, it was true. And it was something big—even if it wasn’t the least work-related. “Could you take that call for me and get a message? And hold my calls until further notice… Yes. Terrific. Thanks.” She hung up and dropped into her swivel chair.
The section of paper was right there on the desk pad in front of her, folded and folded again, the pages slightly disarranged now….
Gripping the chair arms in white-knuckled hands and glaring at the folded paper, Kelly swung the chair sharply back and forth. Such a seemingly harmless thing. The Sacramento Bee for Tuesday, February 13th. Innocuous. Mundane.
Yet it threatened to change her life and the life of her only child. Forever.
DeDe, in pink tights and a tutu, beamed at her from the picture on the corner of her desk. That one had been taken at one of her dance recitals last fall. Next to it, there was one of DeDe and Candy, the ancient black mutt that had showed up on their doorstep five years before and swiftly become one of the family. DeDe, seven at the time the picture was taken, had her arms around the dog’s neck. She was smiling wide, proudly displaying the gap where she’d lost two front baby teeth. There were others pictures of DeDe, on the bookcase, as well as on the credenza. Two of them showed Kelly and DeDe together, one was of DeDe with her uncle Tanner and another of DeDe, Kelly, Tanner—and Hayley, who was Kelly and Tanner’s long-lost sister. They’d found Hayley just that previous June….
Kelly closed her eyes, sucked air through her nose. She could look at all her office pictures again. And again. A thousand times. But eventually, she’d have to open that paper. There was, in the end, no escaping the image there. The truth had to be faced.
With swift, determined movements, she hauled her chair in close to the desk and spread the paper wide.
And there he was again. Michael.
Older, bigger, stronger, more confident, more…everything. But still. It was Michael. She was certain.
She touched the face in the picture, closed her eyes, whispered fervently, like a prayer, “I tried, I swear. I tried to find you. I knew I would find you. At first. But I never did. And somehow, over the years… Oh, God. I’m so sorry. But I had started to think it was never going to happen….”
She was sagging again, kind of crumpling into herself. Not good. She needed to sit tall. Once more, she drew herself up. She reached for the phone and dialed her brother’s cell.
Tanner answered on the second ring. “Tanner Bravo.” Tanner was a private investigator. He owned his own detective service, Dark Horse Investigations. He’d been looking for Michael all along, with no luck.
“It’s me.” Her voice came out sounding absurdly small.
“Kell. You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You sound—”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Look. I was wondering. Do you think you could come over tonight, keep an eye on DeDe for a couple of hours?”
“Got a hot date?” Tanner was forever teasing her about her dateless state. As a rule, she teased him right back, razzed him that he ought to find someone nice and settle down.
Right now, though, she didn’t feel much like teasing. “Har-har. And no. It’s not a date. There’s this guy speaking at Valley U.A motivational thing…”
“You need motivating?”
“One of the counselors here at the center recommended him.” Well. Renata had recommended him. Though not exactly for his skills as a speaker.
“Do I get a free meal out of it?”
“Slow-cooker pot roast. Biscuits. For dessert, vanilla ice cream and oatmeal-raisin cookies.”
“Right answer. You’re in luck. I don’t have anything going on after five. What time d’you need me?”
She scanned the article in front of her, looking for a time. “Uh, the program starts at seven-thirty. Come at six. We’ll eat before I go. I should be home by ten at the latest.”
He agreed he’d be there and they said goodbye.
She hung up feeling guilty for not telling him that the motivational speaker just happened to be Michael.
But no. She wasn’t absolutely sure the man was Michael, not yet. She needed to see him in person first, needed to be beyond-a-doubt certain about this before she got everyone all stirred up.
Mitch Valentine was speaking in the sociology center, an auditorium called Delta Hall. The hall had theater-style seating for at least a thousand and when Kelly arrived at twenty after seven, a good half of the seats were taken.
Quite a crowd for a self-help speaker on a Tuesday night. Was Renata here somewhere? Kelly hoped not. The situation was tough enough. She didn’t need the added stress of trying to behave normally for one of her colleagues.
Kelly dithered—upstairs or down? Front, center or at the rear? More people filed in around her.
Finally, frazzled to no end, a bundle of nerves at the prospect that Michael might be in the same building with her and in ten minutes she would see him in the flesh, she chose a seat about a third of the way up from the stage. Close enough that she should be able to tell if the man named Mitch Valentine was actually Michael.
And far enough back that she doubted he would pick her out of the crowd—again, if he did turn out to be Michael. And if he remembered her.
It was possible, after all, that he was Michael and he’d totally forgotten he was ever passionately, possessively in love with a girl named Kelly. He’d clearly moved on. And he didn’t know about DeDe. Yet.
What was there to hold him to the memory of those long-ago days?
Next to her, a college-age girl wearing a shearling jacket and boots that looked as if they belonged on an Eskimo, giggled and turned to the girl on her other side. “Hottie. I’m so not kidding. Fully doable. You should have gone to the reception before. He shook my hand. God. Those eyes. That voice. I think I came. And you know how I feel about the damn required lectures. But here I am. And you don’t hear me complaining….”
Her girlfriend was not impressed. “I’ll wait ’til I see him. And I still hate these lectures.”
“Trust me,” said the girl in the Eskimo boots. “You get a look at him, you’ll change your mind.”
The two put their heads together and started whispering.
Kelly tuned them out. Michael had always had a fine, deep voice and beautiful eyes. Most people hadn’t noticed, back then. They saw a skinny, withdrawn teenager and never looked beyond that.
So was that more proof that she’d found him, at last?
Wait, the voice of caution warned. Get a look at him. You’ll know soon enough.
It was warm in the hall and her nerves weren’t helping her cool down any. She wiggled out of her winter coat and draped it over the back of her chair.
By the time she faced front again, the lights were dimming over the seats—and getting brighter on the stage, brightest of all on the podium, center stage. A man came striding out of the wings: tall, thin, gray hair…
Not Michael. Or even the man she suspected might be Michael.
The gray-haired man stepped up to the podium to polite applause. He introduced himself as the head of the sociology department and then launched into a glowing introduction of the evening’s guest speaker.
Most of it had been in the paper that morning.
“Mitch Valentine is living, breathing proof that the American Dream really can come true. At nineteen, he designed his first video game. How many of you ever played DeathKnot or Midnight Destroyer?” Hands went up all over the hall. The professor smiled. “From there, he moved into software development, then created a job-search engine for students. Many of you here tonight have or will use FirstJob.com before you send out those resumes. From there, Mitch moved into desktop publishing. Now, at twenty-eight, he owns two publicly traded companies with headquarters in Dallas and in Los Angeles. And he’s written a book about how he did it.”
Her heart was beating too fast again. Michael would be twenty-eight now….
And the video games. They hadn’t mentioned the video games in the paper, had they?
The department head was still talking. About how Mitch Valentine had started from nothing, lived on the streets of Dallas, turned his life around. How he had no formal education beyond a high-school diploma, and yet…look at the man today.
And then, at last, he said, “And now, it’s with great pleasure and sincere admiration that I introduce to you…Mitch Valentine.”
There was a roar. It was partly the applause and it was partly the blood spurting so fast through her veins, it made a rushing in her ears.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark suit with a snow-white shirt and a lustrous blue tie strode confidently across the stage. She thought, Chestnut-brown hair, like Michael’s…
He stepped up to the podium under the hard gleam of the spotlight. And he spoke.
“Thank you, Dr. Benson. I’ll do my best to live up to that glowing introduction….”
He spoke.
She’d known for certain in her mind when he faced the audience, but when he spoke, she knew in her heart.
The final shreds of her doubt unraveled and dropped away.
Kelly knew.
He was Michael. She had found her daughter’s father, at last.
Chapter Two
Mitch Valentine, who had once been Michael Vakulic, talked for over an hour, without notes. He rarely stood still. Instead, he paced back and forth in front of the podium, pausing now and then to turn his arresting gaze on the audience as he emphasized a certain point. He wore one of those little portable mikes that hooked over his right ear, with a thin mouthpiece curving over his cheek, so his voice was crystal clear even though he spoke in a conversational tone.
He talked about starting from nothing. About never giving up. About making the impossible into the possible. About translating dreams into reality, about goals, about what gets in the way of getting what we want.
He was funny and he was brilliant and he was inspiring. And he had that audience in the palm of his hand. Even Kelly, though hardly in a receptive frame of mind, was impressed. Hey, she just might have learned something under different circumstances.
That night, though, she sat there wide-eyed, her heart in her throat, images of the Michael she had known back then popping in and out of her stunned mind, warring with the reality of Mitch Valentine now.
Up on the stage, the broad-shouldered man in the designer suit said, “Set yourself up in opposition, and where does all your energy go? Exactly. Into the fight—into opposing. But set yourself up in cooperation, and something altogether different occurs….”
In her mind’s eye, she saw Michael, her Michael, in a cheap white T-shirt and battered, sagging jeans, his arms like two sticks, his hair shoulder length and stringy. His dark, hazel eyes were shining and his thin face seemed to glow from within.
He said, “I love you, Kelly. You’re everything to me. I’ll always take care of you. It’s you and me against the rest of them….”
Mitch Valentine said, “Ultimatums? I believe they’re the simplest way to sabotage yourself, to make certain you get the short end of the stick instead of what you want….”
And she remembered Michael the day he made her choose. “Me and you, Kelly. Don’t you remember? It was supposed to be me and you, always. If you leave with him, it’s over. So make a choice. Him. Or me.”
“But Michael, he’s my brother….”
“Him or me, damn you. Just make a choice.”
And so it went the whole time Mitch Valentine spoke.
She tried to put aside her fears as to how finding Michael would change her life—and her daughter’s life—irrevocably. She tried to focus her attention on the man Michael had become. And then that man would say something else to send her spinning back in time.
Past. Present. Future: what had happened, what was happening this moment, what might happen next…
The present was unbearable, the past so hard to face. And the unknowable future? It seemed to bear down on her like an avalanche, like an asteroid on a collision course with the world she had created for herself and her child….
When the speech ended, Mitch Valentine took questions.
That went on for half an hour.
Finally, he thanked everyone and said he’d be signing his new book at the campus bookstore the next day, between three and five. The applause was protracted and enthusiastic. The house lights got brighter as the stage lights dimmed. Most of the audience headed for the exits, but fifty or sixty of them rushed onstage.
Another twenty minutes dragged by as Michael—correction: Mitch—accepted praise and shook hands. Kelly waited in her seat until only a few students remained.
When all but those last stragglers had headed for the doors, she made herself rise and put on her coat. Her heart hammering in her ears as it had been doing for most of the night, she slid out into the aisle and strode purposefully down front. There were stairs leading up to the stage on either side. She took the set to the left.
Once up there, she hung back, until the final student had finished gushing and shaking the speaker’s hand.
The student turned to go. The man who had once been Michael glanced toward Kelly where she hovered on the edge of the stage. He smiled.
Her heart stopped racing. It seemed to expand in her chest. A shiver went through her at the same time as heat bloomed in her midsection. This was really happening, the impossible moment was upon her, at last.
He asked, “Kelly?”
Sweet relief poured through her. It mattered a whole lot, that he remembered. That he recognized her. She gulped and nodded.
He started toward her, so big and strong and…imposing. Imagine. Her Michael had grown up to be imposing.
He stood in front of her. She looked up into those velvety eyes that looked deep brown in some lights, and in others, showed glints of green: Michael’s eyes. He said, “I have to admit, I kind of wondered if you might be here, if you might have come back to Sacramento….”
When they split up, she’d moved to Fresno, where Tanner was living and working when he finally got their mother to admit he had a sister. Tanner was twenty-one at the time and the court allowed him custody, once Kelly stood up before a judge and declared that she wanted to live with her brother.
She gulped in air and made herself explain. “My mom got sick again, a year after Tanner came for me. She needed us. And I wanted to go to Sac State anyway….”
He smiled again. He had the most beautiful smile. But then, so had Michael, though his smiles were rare. “Let me guess. You got a full scholarship?”
“That’s right.”
“I knew you would. And you’ve been here in Sacramento ever since?”
“Yes, I…have a house. A job I love. An old black dog.” And a daughter. Your daughter…
“Mitch. Ready?” said a voice from behind her. A glance over her shoulder showed her that the gray-haired professor waited in the wings.
Mitch gave him the high sign. “Be right there, Robert.”
She faced Mitch again. “I guess you have to go, but…” What to say next? It seemed all wrong to just dump the news on him without preamble, right there on that darkened stage.
“Listen.” He looked at her so intently, scanning her face in a way that seemed both eager and hungry at once. A funny thrill skittered through her. And the warmth in her stomach seemed to expand outward, to radiate all through her.
My God. I’m attracted to him—and he feels it,too….
After all these years. Who knew? He’d changed so much. And then there was DeDe. God. What would he do when she told him about DeDe?
He said, “I believe in keeping it simple and direct.”
“Oh. Yes. I prefer that, too.” But obviously not that direct. Or she would have told him already that he was a dad.
No. Really. Bad idea, to just blurt it out, out of nowhere, with that professor lurking behind them, waiting to lead Mitch off to who knew where.
Mitch asked, “Are you married? Engaged? With someone special?”
A short burst of surprised laughter escaped her. “Well, that was simple and direct. And the answers are no, no. And no.”
“Perfect.”
She actually found herself teasing him. “Which no do you mean?”
“All of them.” The air seemed to crackle around them. With energy. With…heat. He said, “I’ve got this faculty party I have to be at right now, but I’m in town ’til Thursday morning. How about dinner tomorrow night?”
Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. How weird was that? To go out with her child’s father, whose name was now Valentine…on Valentine’s Day?
Weirdness aside, though, dinner would work. Just the two of them, sharing a table in a quiet restaurant. It would be a good opportunity—if there was such a thing—to break the news.
He said, “You’re taking too long to answer. I’m getting worried you’ll say no again—this time to me.”
Her cheeks felt too warm. She couldn’t resist. “No.” She paused just long enough for him to look disappointed. Then she added, “I’m not saying no.”
He laughed, then. “Seven?”
“Fine.” She hurried right on, before he could suggest that he would pick her up. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant, if that’s all right?”
“However you want it.”
She’d put a business card in her pocket, ready for this moment. “Here’s my work number and my cell, just in case…” Their fingers touched in the space between them. So strange. After all these years, the two of them, standing here. Breathing the same air, his hand brushing hers…
His skin was warm. Dry. And only slightly rougher than her own.
He produced a card and handed it over. It was thick vellum, green with black lettering, a personal card, just his name and a couple of phone numbers.
“If you need to call, use the first number,” he said. “It’s my cell.”
“All right.”
“Shall I ask around, get some recommendations for the right restaurant, or do you know where you’d like to eat?”
She named a place in midtown, on 28th Street. “It’s quiet there,” she said. “And the food’s good.”
“I remember it,” he said. “A Sacramento landmark. Though we never could afford to eat there, back when…” The place wasn’t terribly expensive, but for two kids with no money, it had seemed so—And Dr. Benson must be getting impatient, because Mitch was glancing over her shoulder and nodding. “Right there…”
She stepped back. “I’ll let you go then.”
“Until tomorrow…”
“Seven. I’ll be there.”
Tanner was stretched out on the couch in the family room at the back of the house, channel-surfing, when Kelly got home. He turned off the TV and reached over to set the remote on the coffee table when she came in through the dining room.
He didn’t get up right away, but braced his right arm behind his head and regarded her through lazy, dark brown eyes. “You’re late. I was practically asleep.”
“At twenty after ten? You know you never went to sleep this early in your life.”
He sat up then, kind of stiffly. He’d been in a car accident six weeks before and had only gotten the casts off his left arm and leg a few days ago. A week or two more, his doctors said, and even the residual stiffness should disappear. He yawned. “Good speech?”
“Excellent.”
“What was that name again?”
“Mitch Valentine.”
He shrugged. “Never heard of him.”
She only smiled. She’d made up her mind on the drive home not to tell Tanner that she’d found Michael at last until after she’d managed to tell Mitch about DeDe. It seemed right that she should come clean with Mitch, first and foremost.
But she and her brother were very close. Guilt nagged her, to hold out on him this way.
He was frowning. “Okay, what’s going on?”
And she couldn’t go through with it, couldn’t hold the truth back. Not from Tanner, who was her beloved big brother, her rock, the first one to show her what it could be to have a real family. She came and sat beside him and took his hand. “Is DeDe asleep?” She pitched her voice barely above a whisper.
His brow crinkled with concern. “She went to bed at nine. I checked on her about fifteen minutes ago. Dead to the world.”
“Good. I…”
“God, Kell. What?”
“Mitch Valentine? The guy who was speaking tonight?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s Michael.”
He looked every bit as stunned as she felt. “What the hell?”
“It’s true. Oh, Tanner. I’ve found Michael. At last…”
He let go of her hand. “Are you sure?”
Kelly bobbed her head up and down. “Oh, yeah. He’s Michael, though he’s changed a lot. You know how thin he was? Not anymore. He’s…buffed up. And he’s wealthy. Owns a couple of companies and he’s written a book about how he turned his life around.”
Tanner said patiently, “Kell. Listen. How can you be certain this guy is the kid you knew in high school?”
“What do you mean? I saw him, face-to-face. I talked to him.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. I waited around after he spoke. The minute he saw me, he recognized me, too.”
“You really are certain.”
“I am. You wait. You’ll see. He’s changed, yes, but he’s still Michael.”
“Mitch Valentine. That’s the name he goes by now?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s going on with that? Why did he change his name?” Tanner wore his most unreadable expression. Kelly knew what that look meant. He’d be burning the midnight oil on the Internet tonight, using the various tools at his disposal as a P.I. to find out everything he could about the man named Valentine.
“Oh, Tanner. Come on. Don’t be so suspicious. I know you didn’t like him, but—”
“Sorry. I am suspicious. The guy vanishes into thin air. For ten years. And now he’s back and rich and buffed up—living under an assumed name?”
“Please. I left him and his mother died. A one-two punch. He took off, started over. And people do change their names, you know. It’s not as though it’s a crime.”
“But he didn’t tell you why he did it.”
“We talked for like, three minutes. There wasn’t time. Tomorrow, I’ll find out more.”
“Tomorrow?”
“We’re meeting for dinner. He’s leaving town Thursday.”
“To go where?”
“Haven’t a clue. All I know is somehow I have to get up the nerve to tell him he’s got a daughter.”
“And you want me to watch DeDe again, while you talk to him?”
“If you can…”
He was silent for a moment, then he nodded. “Of course I can.”
“Thank you.”
“When will you tell her?”
“Soon. After I tell him. I need to see how he takes it. I’ve waited so long to find him.” She shook her head. “And now I have, I have no idea how he’s going to react to this. I just…I don’t know. He’s the same, but so different. If that makes any sense at all.”
Tanner reached for her hand again. She gave it. He squeezed her fingers. “Damn. Not easy, huh?”
She let herself sag against him. “I can hardly believe this is happening.”
“Yeah. I hear you. Me, neither.”
She rested her head on his broad shoulder. “Tanner?”
“Huh?”
“At least we finally found him.”
“Right.” Something in his tone alerted her.
She straightened so she could see his face. “Please. Don’t feel bad because you weren’t the one who found him. I know you did everything you could. I always felt so awful for you. So many times I’ve asked you how the hunt was going. And each time you had to tell me you had nothing. I know how much you hated that.”
His dark gaze slid away, but only for a second or two. Then he looked straight at her again. “Listen. You found the guy. That’s what matters.”
She smiled then, in spite of her apprehensions. “Yeah. It’s happened, after so many years I’d begun to wonder if it ever would. Now I have to tell him that he’s got a daughter, that he’s missed the first nine years of her life. I have the strangest feeling he’s not going to take that especially well.”
Tanner scowled. “He’s the one who turned his back on you—and then ran away without leaving a clue as to where he’d gone. There’s no way he can expect you to have found him. He didn’t even keep the same name.”
“Tanner. Chill. Really, maybe I’m worrying over nothing. It’s not as if he was a mixed-up teenager anymore. He was perfectly charming. Sophisticated. With a great sense of humor…”
“Now I know for sure you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Oh, stop.” She slapped him playfully on the arm and mentally added, He’s also sexy. Very, very sexy. She thought about the way Mitch had looked at her, the heat in those beautiful eyes, and suppressed a dreamy sigh.
Tanner grumbled some more. “The man had damn well better watch himself, that’s all.”
“Spoken like my own wonderful, protective big brother—and do not get yourself all worked up. I mean it. That’s an order.”
“Hell. All right.” He peered more closely at her. “You gonna be okay?”
“Oh, I hope so. I truly do.”
Chapter Three
Mitch got to the restaurant early. He’d called ahead and reserved a quiet corner table, but he wanted time to check it out personally before Kelly arrived, to make sure it was everything the guy who took his reservation had promised.
The place was nice. Kind of cozy. With an inviting bar, dimly lit, on one side, and a quiet dining room on the other. This time of year, the famous patio area was closed. But Mitch wasn’t complaining. The table he’d reserved was just as he’d hoped, tucked away in a corner under a muted overhead light. On the snowy-white linen tablecloth, there was a curvy candle, of clear glass, the kind that burned oil. And a white magnolia blossom floated in a square crystal vase.
“Thank you. It’s just right,” he told the host as he pressed a fifty into the man’s palm. He took the chair with a clear view of the entrance and ordered Tanqueray on the rocks. When the drink came, he sipped it slowly and suppressed an ironic smile.
Crystal, his friend in L.A. who insisted on telling people he was her brother, would have a good laugh on him if she were here.
Good thing she wasn’t—not only because she knew him too damn well and never had a problem blabbing what she knew, but because he desperately wanted Kelly to himself.
Hell. Desperately?
He was bad off here, no doubt about it. A few minutes with Kelly again after a decade, and she was all he could think about. He was head over heels and falling fast.
All over again.
Was he ready for this?
As if he knew.
The host reappeared in the arch at the entrance, with Kelly right behind him.
The sight of her hit him like a punch to the gut. Her soft brown hair was chin-length now. The cut brought out her blue eyes and her mouth like a red bow. There had always been something…retro about her. He could picture her living way back in the Roaring Twenties, with a long string of pearls and a hip flask, dancing the Charleston ’til dawn. She wore a gray skirt that clung to her hips and flared at the hem. And a red blouse under a short jacket. She carried her coat over her arm.
She spotted him. Their glances held as she came toward him. He saw excitement in her eyes, an eagerness to match his own. That ripe bud of a mouth trembled on a smile. Was she nervous?
If she was, he understood. He was nervous, too.
He rose as the host pulled out her chair. They sat in unison. Then, when the host left, she got up and draped her coat behind her.
She asked for a glass of white wine and the waiter returned with it in no time.
And at last, they were left alone.
She smiled at him, the light from the candle glowing gold in her eyes. “So how did the book signing go?”
“I sold a lot of books and talked until my throat hurt. I think you could call it a success.”
“Congratulations.”
He shrugged. “I only hope the rest of the tour goes as well.”
“And tomorrow you leave for…?”
“Seattle. From there, I move east. Minneapolis. Chicago. New York. Then London, Paris, Stockholm and Berlin. And then back here to the States, to Dallas and L.A.”
“Impressive.”
“Well, the publicist I hired to set up the tour seems to think so. And I figure it can only help to get the word out.”
“How long will all that take?”
“Three weeks. I’ll be ready for a long rest by the time I get home.”
“And home is…?”
“Mostly Los Angeles at this point. Though FirstJob.com is headquartered in Dallas, so I spend several weeks out of the year there.”
“Wow,” she said. “I can’t get over all this. You really have come a long, long way.”
He arched a brow. “From the Summer Breeze Mobile Home Park, you mean?”
She raised her wineglass. “Here’s to you, Mitch.” He touched his glass to hers and they drank.
“Now,” he said, “about you…”
Something happened in her eyes. A certain…apprehensiveness. So. She had her secrets. He wanted to know them. Damned if he didn’t want to know everything about her, to learn all that had happened to her in the decade since he’d lost her.
She asked, “What about me?”
“Tell me everything.”
“Got ten years?”
“All right, all right. I guess I’ll have to settle for the condensed version.”
“Let’s see. Where to begin? I’m the director of the Sacramento County Family Crisis Center.”
“Sounds like an important job.”
“Well, the service the center provides is important, that’s for sure.”
“Nonprofit, right?”
She laughed. He’d pay millions for that, just to listen to that laugh on a regular basis. Say, daily—morning, noon and at least twenty times a night. “Spoken like a true capitalist,” she said.
“It wasn’t a criticism.”
“Well, good. And yes. We’re nonprofit. We offer family counseling and a children’s shelter for kids who need a place to go, temporarily, when there’s a big problem.” There was a proud gleam in her eyes.
“You believe in the work you do.”
“I do.”
“And you enjoy it.”
“Yes.” She ran a finger around the rim of her wineglass and slanted him a glance. “Mitch, I…” She seemed not to know how to finish.
He waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, he asked, “How’s your mom?”
She groaned and tipped her head back. “Oh, God. Now, there’s a story…” She leaned toward him. “You remember the famous Bravo Baby, kidnapped for a fortune in diamonds? The ransom was paid, but the baby was never returned to the parents.”
“Of course, I remember.” He reminded her, “You told me about him, back when we were together….”
“That’s right. I did, didn’t I? But ten years ago, nobody knew that the baby had lived, or who the kidnapper really was. I used to imagine I might be related to them, to that rich family named Bravo from Bel Air. I used to fantasize that I would go down there and knock on the door of their beautiful mansion. They’d know instantly that I was part of the family. They would want me to live with them, so I’d move into the mansion. I’d have a whole wing to myself….”
He couldn’t get enough of just looking at her. Her skin had a tempting glow. He ached to reach across the table and brush her cheek with the side of his hand. Would her eyes go soft, welcoming his touch?
He asked, “You always wanted that, didn’t you? A family of your own?”
“I did.”
Ten years ago, he’d wanted to be her family. He’d wanted to be all she’d ever need. He’d demanded to be the center of her world. And because of that, he’d lost her.
He said, “It was five or six years ago, wasn’t it, that they found out the Bravo Baby’s kidnapper had been his own uncle? I remember reading about it.” It was a major story, all over the wire services and the talk shows. The notorious Blake Bravo, who had previously been declared dead in an apartment fire, had stolen his own brother’s baby and lived for more than thirty years with no one knowing that he was very much alive the whole time. “He actually is dead now, right?”
“Yes. He’s dead.”
About then, Mitch realized where this story was headed. “Your own dad, the one you never met. His name was—”
“Blake. Yes. The Blake Bravo was my father. The Bravo Baby—all grown up now and living in Oklahoma City—is my cousin. And the famous Bravo Billionaire in his Bel Air mansion? He’s my cousin, too. I was related to my fantasy family the whole time. Also, as it turns out, Tanner and I have half siblings all over the country. Beyond being a kidnapper and other scary things, my father was a polygamist. He married a lot of women.
“He would marry them and get them pregnant and then abandon them. If he did return, it was only long enough to father yet another baby. Oh. And that reminds me. Tanner and I have a sister, too—a full sister. My mother had a third child neither of us ever knew about. My sister is a couple of years younger than me. Her name is Hayley. She’s married, with a new baby. Lives in Seattle.”
“Slow down a minute. You’re telling me that your mother had three kids and put them all in foster care….”
“And told each of us that us we were the only one. Yes.”
Mitch had met Lia Bravo a couple of times back in the day. A thin, quiet woman with a faraway look in her eye. “She never seemed strong, your mother.”
“She wasn’t. She had no education to speak of and she had trouble keeping a job. She couldn’t take care of us, and yet she would never agree to sign the papers so we could be adopted and maybe find new families for ourselves—and, as I said, she lied to us and never told us we had siblings. I don’t know what drove her to do the things she did. I’ll probably never know.”
“What drove her? Past tense?”
“She died last May. That’s how we found Hayley. We met her when we all just happened to show up in Mom’s hospital room at the same time.”
“Damn. That must have been quite a surprise.”
“Oh, yeah. I look back and realize it would have been the same with Tanner and me, that we probably wouldn’t have found each other until last year. We were lucky because Tanner vaguely remembered that there had been a baby when Mom put him in the system. Ten years ago, he had to practically blackmail her to get her to admit that yes, he did have a sister. One sister. She never did cop to Hayley’s existence. So another decade went by before we found her.”
He asked carefully, “You and Tanner are still close, then?”
“Very.” Her smooth brow creased. “You don’t still hate him, do you?”
Before he could answer, the waiter appeared. They took a few minutes to look at the menu and order.
Then they were alone again. And Kelly was watching him.
Time to face the music. From the moment he’d seen her the night before, standing there on the edge of that stage, he’d known he would find a way to be with her again—and that he would need to make amends.
He said, “I was way out of line. An idiot, ten years ago. Believe me, Kelly. I know that now. You heard me last night. It’s a major point in my book and my lectures that ultimatums just don’t work, but I made you choose between me and your newfound brother. All I can say is, I was eighteen and crazy in love with you and sure I would lose you—which, as it turned out, I did. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy. It was stupid. And self-defeating. And wrong.”
Now her eyes were as soft as a summer sky. “So I left you—and then you lost your mom, too.”
“Pneumonia. At least it was quick. Sometimes I think she was relieved to go. She was never the same since we lost Deirdre—and my dad.” Deirdre had been two years his junior. She’d died at the age of nine, hit by a drunk driver while she rode her new bike home from a friend’s house down the street. His father couldn’t stand the loss of his adored daughter and deserted them soon after. His mom had done her best, but they couldn’t afford the house. She’d spent her remaining years in a cramped, single-wide trailer.
“Deirdre,” Kelly softly whispered. Her eyes welled with sudden tears.
He did reach across the table then. “Hey.” She let him take her hand. Damn, it felt good, just touching her. Her palm was soft and cool. “You would always cry, remember, whenever I talked about DeDe?”
She swallowed, nodded. “I…I knew you loved her very much. And nobody should die that young. It’s just…so sad.”
Even now, he could close his eyes and see her, his lost little sister. She would look up at him through those wide-set hazel eyes, trusting and proud to have him as her own big brother. “She was the greatest little kid. Nothing got her down, you know?”
Kelly glanced away. She swallowed again. “Mitch, I…”
“What? What’s the matter? Whatever it is, just say it. I can take it, I promise you.”
“Yes. I…well, I…”
The waiter arrived with their appetizers.
Kelly gently pulled her hand from his so the waiter could serve them. He asked if they wanted refills on their drinks. When they both passed, he left them.
“Now,” Mitch said, “what is it you keep trying to tell me?”
“It’s only that I…” she picked up her fork “…I want you to know that I did come back looking for you, a couple of months after I left….”
He shook his head. “Not a trace, huh?”
“No. The trailer had strangers living in it. They knew nothing about you. The guy in the park office told me about your mom and said he had no idea where you went. You’d left no forwarding address.”
“I had no forwarding address. And we were renting the trailer. The weekly payment came due. I didn’t have it. I realized I didn’t want to be there, anyway. So I took what I could fit in my backpack and I hit the road.”
“And you went…?”
“To Dallas. By way of L.A. and Las Vegas and Phoenix. I lived on the streets for about a year.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry….”
“Why? It wasn’t your fault. And living on the streets can be damn instructive—and you know what?”
“Hmm?”
“We’ve got this one evening. And then I’m on a plane tomorrow. Here we are again, after all these years. It’s like magic. And I don’t want to waste another minute of tonight talking about all the grim stuff we’ve been through since we were last together.”
Another of those beautiful smiles trembled across her mouth. “Oh, Michael.”
“Mitch,” he corrected.
She sighed. “Mitch.” She sent him a teasing look. “I like your attitude, Mitch.”
“Well, I’ve been working on it for the past decade or so. It’s good to know you see improvement.”
“Oh, I do.” She glowed at him. “I truly do. But as for the grim stuff, well, it’s what made us who we are, right?”
“That’s true.”
She sipped the last of her wine. He had the feeling she was about to reveal something important, one of those secrets he couldn’t wait for her to share with him, something about her life now that she found difficult to speak of. But then she only asked him more about himself.
“Your name. Why the change?”
He teased, “What? You don’t like the name ‘Mitch’?”
“I do like it. It just seems like a big step, I guess.”
“People do change their names. It’s more common than you might think.”
“I’m not asking about ‘people.’ I want to know why you changed your name.”
“I wanted to be…someone else. And now I am.”
“But you are still Michael. Deep down. No matter how much you change.”
He reached out. And so did she. Her fingers met his in the middle of the table, by the white magnolia blossom, in the candle’s golden glow. Met. And held.
He said, “I’m not Michael. Not anymore. I’m someone different. Someone named Mitch. And believe me, I like myself as Mitch a whole lot better than I ever liked Michael.”
“When did you change it?”
“When I was nineteen.”
“A year after…”
“We broke up. Yes. By then I’d created my first video game and I was working on the second one. I had a little money, at last. I’d rented an apartment. It seemed like total luxury to me. To sleep in a bed, to finally stop wondering where the next meal was coming from.”
“That must have been a great feeling.”
“Clean sheets and food in my stomach. Oh, yeah.”
She laughed again. “Actually, I meant how you came from nothing, and within a year you found success.”
“Well, I still had a long way to go. But things were definitely looking up.”
He’d still missed her like hell back then. It was an ache that never completely left him. But time had been kind and dulled the pain more year by year. He’d thought himself over her the past couple of years….
And then, last night, there she was, standing off to the side, her smile nervous and hopeful.
Since then, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Again, she pulled her hand back. She picked up her fork and went to work on her asparagus salad. He ate some of his stuffed portobello mushroom appetizer. They were quiet for a few minutes. The food was good and the silence held promise it seemed to him.
Eventually, she asked, “Why Mitch Valentine?”
“Well, it starts with the same letters as my given name, so it was a change, which I wanted, but at the same time, it felt comfortable, you know? It felt… right. Familiar.”
“But why Valentine?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s not a name I can picture you choosing, I guess. It’s a little too…” She couldn’t find the right word.
He gave her some help. “Soft? Girly? Romantic? Imaginative? Kelly. I’m hurt. You don’t think I’m imaginative…?”
She groaned. “Excuse me while I remove my foot from my mouth—and actually, I like it. It just surprises me you chose it, that’s all.”
“I actually did have a few reasons for making the choice. I’d already chosen Mitch some time before. As I said, I wanted a last name that started with a V, like Vakulic. And it was Valentine’s Day when I went to see the lawyer about making the change. I thought, hell. Valentine. Vakulic. Same first two letters, just like Mitch and Michael. And I thought Valentine sounded like the name of somebody famous. I liked that. A lot.”
She sat back in her chair. “So. That was nine years ago today….”
“That’s right, now you mention it.”
They shared a look. She broke the eye contact first. “Mitch,” she said softly. Her mouth kept tempting him.
He wanted to kiss it. “I like it when you say my name.”
There was urgency in those blue eyes. And something else. Something…what? Worried? Afraid? “Mitch, I…”
“What? Say it. Tell me.”
She shook her head—and then she slid her napkin in beside her plate. “Be right back.” And she got up and headed toward the arch that led to the ladies’ room.
He watched her go, admiring the slim, softly curving shape of her, thinking that he was probably pushing too fast, promising himself he’d slow it down a little when she returned, smiling wryly as he realized there was no way he would keep that promise.
The ladies’ room was blessedly empty. An orchid in a black pot graced the white marble sink counter. Beside the elegant flower a stack of neatly folded linen towels waited. So much nicer than ordinary paper ones.
Kelly braced her hands on the rim of the sink and leaned in toward the mirror. “You will tell him,” she commanded in a whisper, glaring at her own image. “You will go back out there and you will tell him that he has a daughter and you will do it the minute your butt hits that chair.”
She straightened. With slow deliberation, she smoothed her hair and then her skirt. She washed her hands and dried them on one of those beautiful cloth towels.
And then she drew her shoulders back and turned for the door.
At their table, the waiter was just setting down the main course. He slid over behind her and held her chair. She thanked him, he nodded and left them.
She spread her napkin on her lap again. Tell him, tell him, tell him. “This looks good…” She glanced up, into those amazing dark hazel eyes.
And she was lost. Finished. She just couldn’t do it.
He was there, across from her, after all these years. And somehow the boy she had loved had become the kind of man she dreamed about.
It was…a fantasy, this evening. Her fantasy. Just the two of them, by candlelight, sharing a lovely meal and good conversation.
Each glance was electric. And when he reached out and touched her hand…
Just a few more minutes. Just a little while longer.
She would tell him before they left the restaurant, before the night was over. But as soon as she did it, everything would change.
The fantasy would end. He would probably be angry. He would definitely be stunned. The hazy, soft magic between them would be blasted away.
Yes, she knew that every minute she kept the truth from him made her all the more culpable. Until last night, when she found him again, she was innocent of wrongdoing.
She’d tried to find him and failed, but she had tried. She’d had no thought, ever, of hiding the truth from him.
Now, though, this evening, as she sat here across from him, exchanged warm glances with him, told him of her life and urged him to tell her of his…
Now she was a cheater. A liar. Ultimately culpable.
She knew it.
And still, she took her fantasy—stole it, really. She had her sweet, tender, romantic lie of an evening.
Because he drew her. Powerfully.
Because she wanted him.
Because she’d never felt like this with anyone, except Michael. And now, here he was, the Michael she’d lost all those years ago, reincarnated into an amazing man named Mitch Valentine.
They had coffee, after the entrée. And they shared a crème brûlée. The vanilla bean custard was warm, sweet silk in her mouth, and she looked across the table and thought of kissing him.
A long kiss. Slow and deep and lazy—and wet. A kiss that would be crème brûlée-sweet.
The look in those eyes of his told her he was thinking along similar lines.
By then, her evilness knew no bounds. She found herself imagining what it might be like to spend a whole night with him. They could go to his hotel, make love for hours on the white, white sheets of a huge hotel bed. She just knew it would be incredible.
And, of course, it was also impossible. First, she’d have to sneak off somewhere so Mitch wouldn’t know what she was up to when she called Tanner.
She’d head for the restroom again, probably. By the marble sink with its linen towels and graceful orchid, she would auto-dial her brother. She would tell him that she’d decided to spend the rest of the night behaving inappropriately with the new, improved version of her high-school sweetheart. Would Tanner mind staying over ’til morning?
Tanner would ask the million-dollar question: Had she told Mitch yet that he was a dad?
She would have to say no, she hadn’t. Not yet.
Oh, that would go over excellently. But just say, for argument’s sake, that after Tanner finished telling her how badly she was handling this, he agreed to stay over and watch DeDe for the night….
Then what?
She’d have a whole night with Mitch. She’d have her fantasy come true.
Too bad about the next morning. By then, she would have run out of chances to put off the moment of truth. She would end up telling him about DeDe in the harsh light of the morning after, before he headed for the airport to board a plane.
How could he see that as anything but a gross and hideous betrayal?
Uh-uh. The evening was drawing to a close. They would not be going to his hotel together. The beautiful, sexy, romantic time was ending here. The fantasy was over before it ever had a chance to really begin. She did accept that.
And she needed to tell him about DeDe now, before they left the restaurant. She knew that. She did.
But still, she said nothing.
He paid the check. She thanked him. They rose. He helped her with her coat and shrugged into his own. She felt his hand at the small of her back, a tiny gesture of care and consideration, one that echoed temptingly of possessiveness.
She wished he would keep his hand right there forever….
He guided her toward the door. She looked up at him and he smiled into her eyes and every atom in her body heated and bounced. A happy dance of the most elemental variety. She yearned for his kiss, for his hands on her bare flesh.
The host beamed and wished them a good evening. They nodded and thanked him. Mitch pushed the door open and they were out on the sidewalk in the cold night air.
It was quiet on the street, a weeknight in midtown. Another couple strolled by, arms wrapped around each other.
Mitch turned her to face him, at the same time as he pulled her a little closer to the building, into the shadows, out of the way of any more strolling pedestrians. He had both arms wrapped lightly around her and he gazed down at her and…
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said. His mouth descended.
She needed to tell him, before he kissed her.
But no. Once again, she surrendered to temptation. She lifted her mouth to welcome his kiss.
His kiss…
It was…everything she’d hoped for. It was her forbidden, lying fantasy fulfilled.
First, the touch—his mouth, her mouth. Nothing like it. She took his breath into her. It was as sweet as vanilla, rich as good coffee….
He deepened the contact. She sighed. Opened. Tasted him as he tasted her.
The same, she thought. The thrill, the wonder, the delicious yearning that rode the fine edge between pleasure and pain. Still the same…
His tongue swept in, teasing, caressing. He was the boy she had lived for and loved with all her yearning, hungry, lonely heart.
He was that boy. And more….
He framed her face, lifted his mouth from hers. She stifled a cry, to be losing such a kiss.
Oh, she didn’t want this lovely intimacy to be over. She didn’t want this magic to end.
His palms were warm against her cheeks, his fingers so gentle at her temples. “I used to think I would go after you,” he told her. “That I would find you, that we could try again. But then, as time went by, I decided it was better, wiser, to let the past go….”
“Oh, Mitch. I know. I understand.”
“But tonight…seeing you again, being with you again…”
“Yes. Exactly. Oh, I do know.”
He took her shoulders. “Okay, this is crazy. But I don’t want tonight to end. Do you think…is it possible that you could go with me, tomorrow?”
The question stunned her. She echoed, stupidly, “Go with you?”
“It’s wild, I know. But wild doesn’t have to equal impossible. All night, I’ve been thinking about how I might talk you into coming with me. I was thinking, what if I endowed that shelter of yours, gave them a big grant? Lots of money. You think it would be enough that they could do without you for a few weeks?”
“Oh, God.”
He rubbed her shoulders, soothing her—and, oh, this was terrible. Why hadn’t she told him an hour ago, two hours ago?
“Hey,” he said. “Okay, maybe it’s not possible. But well, I thought I’d at least give it a shot.” His wry smile broke her heart.
Oh, to be able to simply say yes. To go with him, just pack a bag and take off, to follow this sudden, rekindled magic wherever it took them…
But who was she kidding? That couldn’t happen. Even if she could somehow manage to take a few weeks off from the center with zero notice beforehand, there was DeDe to consider.
DeDe. His daughter.
The child she had yet to tell him about, though telling him had been the whole point of the evening.
Time was up. She knew it, accepted it. She’d stolen her little impossible fantasy, though she had no right to do it, though it only made this moment when the truth was upon her all the more painful.
He scanned her face, a frown forming between his brows. Something was very wrong and he was seeing that now. Still, he tried to play it light. “Okay, okay. I said it was a wild idea. Too wild, I guess. But a guy needs a fantasy, now and then.”
“A…fantasy… Oh, Mitch.” She took his big hands between her own. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve been trying all night, and failing miserably. I’m just so…attracted to you.”
He looked at her sideways, with a teasing half grin. “And that’s bad?”
“No. It’s not. It’s wonderful. Too wonderful. I didn’t want it to end. I wish I could go with you, I swear, I do. I’m flattered and thrilled that you would ask me and I…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, God.”
“What? What’s gone wrong? I’m glad you still feel it for me. I feel it, too. I thought I’d made that clear. I thought we had something going here. Something good. Damn it, Kelly. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I…”
“What?”
“When we broke up ten years ago?”
He nodded. “Yeah? What about it?”
“I was, um, pregnant.”
He went absolutely still for a second or two—and then he moved, but only to pull his hands free of her hold. “What did you say?”
She prayed for the sidewalk to open under her feet, to just swallow her whole. “Oh, please, Mitch. Don’t look at me like that.”
He shook his head. “Pregnant? But you never said—”
“No, I didn’t. Because I didn’t know then. I didn’t miss a period for two weeks after I left for Fresno with Tanner. And then it took me another few weeks to face the possibility, to admit what might be happening to me. When I finally took the home test, six weeks had gone by since we split up.”
“All right.” Now his voice was flat, devoid of expression. His eyes were shuttered—against her. “So. What happened then?”
“I tried to find you….”
“And you didn’t. Got that. And then?”
“I…” She bumbled on, making a complete hash of it. “Seven months later, I had a baby.”
He flinched as if she’d struck him. “No.”
“Yes. I had a baby. Your baby. I had a little girl.”
Chapter Four
“Oh, Mitch,” she cried, moving toward him as he moved back.
He put up a hand to ward her off. And he spoke much too calmly, “You’re joking, right?”
“No. No, of course not. I would never joke about something like this. I have a daughter. Your daughter. She’s nine years old now. Her name is Deirdre. After your sister. We, um, we call her DeDe.”
“DeDe,” he repeated. “DeDe…”
“Mitch. Listen. Please don’t be angry.”
His gaze burned right through her. “What the hell kind of game are you playing?”
“No game. I swear to you. It’s not a game.”
“You sat there at that table with me, you told me all about yourself—except for one thing, the most important thing….”
“I’m sorry. I told you. It was…so great, to be with you again. I started enjoying myself. I…” She wrapped her arms tightly around herself against the night chill and tried to stand tall—and to keep her voice low and reasonable. “Look. I know I blew it. I should have told you right away, the minute I got to the table, I should have—”
“Try ten years ago. That’s when you should have told me.”
“How could I tell you then? I didn’t know myself. And then, when I did come to find you, you were gone. You took off without leaving me any way to get in touch with you.”
“You should have looked for me.”
“I did look.”
“I’ve got a pretty high profile. If you’d really wanted to find me, you would have.”
“Mitch. You left the state. You lived on the streets. When you checked back in to the mainstream, you changed your damn name.”
“You could have found me. That brother of yours, who finds people for a living, he could have found me.”
“He tried. I swear to you. He’s been trying all along. He—”
“Hold on.” Those eyes of his had narrowed dangerously. “Money. That’s it, isn’t it? Money is what this is all about?”
“What?”
“Don’t give me that sweet, bewildered look. I’m not buying. You want money. You’ve had a kid and you want to pass that kid off as mine, start collecting those fat child-support checks.”
“That’s ridiculous. And cruel.”
“Hey. You should see it from where I’m standing.”
A couple of men in suits and ties came out of the restaurant and headed for the side of the building and the valet parking stand. They were careful not to glance at Kelly and Mitch as they went by, but their presence brought it home to her that the two of them couldn’t stand out here trading excuses and accusations all night.
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself and spoke in a tone just above a whisper. “Look. I know this has to be one hell of a shock to you. And I know that I screwed up. I handled this all wrong—if there even is a right way to handle telling a guy you had his baby nine years ago. But the fact remains, we had a child together. You have a daughter. You needed to know that. And now you do.”
That seemed to settle him down. At least a little. He turned from her, then turned back. He raised an arm and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re right. It’s a shock.”
“Yes. Of course. I understand.”
“I don’t know what to think. I’m going to need a little time to, uh, deal with this.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll…be in touch. You can count on that.”

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