A Dad At Last (12 page)

He tried to ignore how close he was to her. How much he wanted to be even closer. He stayed inside his role as the reliable family friend and lawyer, even though there were times the role threatened to choke
off his very air. “What would it take to make you happier?”

She didn't even pause to consider. There was no need. “I'm already happy. I have all my children, finally, around me. I have grandchildren, my work.”

“I said happier, not happy.”

His eyes touched hers, and for a moment, just a moment, something stirred within her. She told herself she was being absurd. What she was feeling was a product of fatigue. “If I were any happier, I might just become airborne.”

He laughed softly. “Well, we wouldn't want that to happen, now, would we?” Because they were old friends, because he had held her hand during crisis after crisis and been there for her when William had died, as she had been there for him when Elaine had passed on, Hugh leaned over and kissed her temple. Anything more would have been out of line. “I think the effects of this glass of Scotch have worn off. I'll be by your office in a couple of days to pick those up.” He nodded at the manila envelope. “No hurry, really.”

She didn't understand. “Then why did you stop by?”

Because, quite simply, he'd wanted to see her. Just to see her, to catch a whiff of the scent she always wore, nothing more. “I was feeling a little nostalgic. This is our fortieth anniversary. Well, not ours, ex
actly, but it's been forty years since I began working for the Maitlands.”

“Forty years?” Such a long time. It should make her feel old. Yet oddly enough she felt very young tonight. Younger than usual. “Today?”

He nodded. “Forty years. Today.”

She rose to get another glass from the bar. “I'd say that deserves a toast.”

He shifted in his seat, watching her. Enjoying the way it felt seeing her approach him. “If I have another glass, I'll have to stay another half hour.” And then he smiled as he moved his glass toward the decanter. “Fill the glass, Megan.” He watched her pour a little of the Scotch into his glass, then her own. “Oh, by the way, you might be happy to hear that Janelle's arraignment is coming up day after tomorrow.”

The news caught her off guard. She set the decanter down. “Find out the time. I want to be there.”

Megan never ceased to amaze him. Another woman would have avoided all contact with trash like Janelle Davis. “What in heaven's name for, Megan? That she-devil put you through hell.”

Megan took a deep breath. “Yes, she did. But that she-devil is also my niece. By marriage.”

“You're joking.” But he saw that she wasn't. Hugh scowled. This was something he should have known. It wasn't often he was caught by surprise professionally. “Are you sure?”

Megan pressed her lips together. “Positive.”

He wanted evidence. “How do you know?”

“Jake found out through a fingerprint check, but he kept the news from me until after Chase was rescued. And Lacy did her own search. She took it upon herself to check it out for me. On Chelsea's computer. I told you the girl was resourceful. I think Connor's underestimating her.” She could see by the look in Hugh's eyes that he had little interest in Connor's thoughts at the moment. “Lacy traced birth and death certificates issued in Nevada.”

“Nevada?”

“That's where Janelle's from. Lacy is completely convinced that the information is authentic and that Janelle is my late brother-in-law Robert's oldest daughter from his second marriage.” She picked up her glass.

He did the same. More twists and turns. Hugh shook his head as he raised his glass. “No wonder you keep me around. Can't identify the players without a scorecard of some sort. I'll look into this further for you.”

“No need. I have Max doing a little more research on that lost branch of the family.” She saw her answer disappointed Hugh. Laughing, Megan looked into his eyes. “And to address your last statement, Hugh, I ‘keep you around' for a great many more reasons than just sorting out the players for me.” She raised her glass. “To another forty years.”

“To another forty years,” he echoed, touching the rim of his glass to hers. For now, it was all he could ask for.

 

C
ONNOR TOOK
L
ACY
not once, but three times that night. Each time he did, he waited for satisfaction to come, to blanket him and let his body relax. But it never came. Instead, each time an even deeper craving would possess him, driving him on until finally he catapulted over the edge of exhaustion. All he could manage was to cradle Lacy against him in his bed, praying she would find it in that beautiful heart of hers to forgive him someday.

He wasn't aware of the sigh that escaped his lips.

She raised her head slightly to look at him. “What?”

He smiled, surprised he had enough energy for even that. “You wear me out, Lacy.”

He felt her hair brushing along his arm as she shifted, turning into him. “I was going to say the same thing about you.”

His smile deepened, ripening in affection. There were different definitions of being worn out. “Yeah, but at your age—”

He got no further. Raising herself up on her elbow, she pressed her finger to his lips.

“Shh. We're not going to bring that awful subject up. Age has nothing to do with it. Except maybe when it comes to experience.” She cocked her head,
her smile warming him, her confidence exciting him. Was he losing his mind? He was on the brink of complete meltdown—how could he want her again? “And your experience was wonderful.”

But he did want her.

He could have devoured her. So exhausted that even drawing a breath was a chore, he still could have eaten her up whole. Raising his head, he caught her bottom lip in his mouth and sucked it just enough to see the sparks entering her eyes again.

Now he'd done it, he thought.

And he was glad.

 

T
HE BED
was empty when she woke sometime before dawn. The smile that had risen even in sleep disappeared from her lips as she felt the sheets. They were cool. He'd left the bed a while ago.

The warm glow that had encased her body since last night faded into the darkness. With a sigh, she got out of bed and began slipping on the clothes that had been discarded in the heat of passion.

Lacy shivered.

Well, what had she expected? She knew this wasn't going to be a walk in the park. There was no way she could change Connor O'Hara. He was what he was. Confusing, but honorable for all that.

She both respected and damned him for it.

Dressed, she reminded herself that she had a little boy who needed her. It helped fill in the gaping holes. But not completely.

S
HE HADN'T EXPECTED
to feel anything.

Especially not this strange, pervading sadness. Janelle especially hadn't thought she'd feel this way about Petey.

But she did.

When the dust had settled, when it had become clear that the plan she had been nurturing more carefully than most mothers nurtured their firstborn was disintegrating before her eyes, Janelle's immediate reaction had been anger. She'd screamed like a banshee, hurling obscenities at the men who had surrounded them and snatched victory out of her well-manicured fingers.

Petey's being shot after he'd fired at the men had only registered on the distant fringes of her mind. Hardly worth notice. Even later, when she was told that he was dead, his death was just a part of the whole, a troublesome detail, at best.

But as she lay in her cell at night, watching the shadows recede and extend in some mysterious, eternal game of tag, it had come to her. Penetrated her
consciousness, then the barricaded walls of her inner self.

Petey was dead.

His had been a pitiful life, an expendable life, of little or no consequence to anyone but Petey, she supposed. But he had loved her in his own way and done as she'd asked, allowing himself to be manipulated. Manipulated to death.

His death bothered her. And gradually, gnawing away at the layers with which she'd learned, from an early age, to insulate herself from the rest of the world, it came to upset her. So much so that it began to prey on her mind, haunting her.

As she entered the courtroom, buffered by two formidable prison matrons, Janelle's eyes quickly took account of the people seated in the rows behind the gate that separated the accused from the accusers, searching for her husband's murderers. Never mind that only one had pulled the trigger, they were all responsible, damn them.

Especially that mealymouthed poor excuse for a woman, Lacy Clark.

Looking at the sea of faces, Janelle found her. Her eyes locked with Lacy's.

She swore to herself on the grave she hadn't been able to look at with her own eyes, her husband's grave, that she was going to find a way to avenge his death if it was the last thing she ever did.

She was going to get Lacy.

 

J
ANELLE'S EYES
were burning holes into her.

It seemed like a stupid thing to feel, and yet Lacy couldn't describe it any other way. She shifted slightly, as if to find a hiding place from the heat without seeming to give Janelle the upper hand. She wasn't afraid of the other woman anymore.

Raising her chin, Lacy met Janelle's gaze head on, knowing that to do anything less would be cowardly. Worse, it would let Janelle believe she still had power over Lacy. She didn't. Those days were long gone. Along with the frightened, foolish girl she'd been, thinking that Janelle was her only friend when all along Janelle had been her only enemy. Plotting to steal her baby so she would have some sort of hold over the Maitlands.

As if a baby could be used for something so awful. If she'd had any doubts about her condemnation of Janelle, they were wiped away when she realized the woman was not above using an innocent infant for her own gain. Janelle had kidnapped Chase; she had tried to steal him not once, but twice.

The woman needed to be put away where she could never hurt Chase again. And Lacy intended to do whatever it took to see that it happened.

“If you want to leave, just say the word.” Connor leaned over and whispered in her ear.

Lacy didn't look at him, afraid he might see the remnants of weakness in her eyes. Afraid he might see other things, as well. She slowly moved her head
from side to side, indicating that there was no need to go. On the contrary, she was determined to stay to see this phase through, just as she was determined to see every phase through until the prison door finally slammed shut on Janelle.

She clasped her hands in her lap, holding tightly onto herself. The one person she knew she could always count on, no matter what.

In a way, Lacy was still rather surprised that Connor had volunteered to bring her to the courtroom. They had exchanged very few words since the night before last. She'd tried to pretend nothing had happened, knowing he preferred it that way. Knowing that for him, perhaps nothing had. It was only for her that the earth had moved a little, tilted on its axis and sent her spinning into the stratosphere.

But she'd come to terms with that. If she was guilty of hanging onto a small hope that somehow she could make him want her so much that all the other barriers would forever melt away, she'd certainly known better in the morning when she'd found him gone, not just from his bed but from the ranch, as well. The foremen he'd hired had said he was away for the day on business.

She'd known some of that business involved avoiding her. The tiny glimmers of hope she'd gathered to herself the night before had disappeared. Daylight had a way of tearing holes through the tissue paper dreams were made of. She was adult
enough to deal with what had happened without making him uncomfortable in her presence. When he'd returned to the ranch at the end of the day, she'd greeted him with a hot meal and a few words of welcome, then gotten out of his way.

Lacy knew he'd want to be in court to make sure the woman who had tried to destroy his life would be forced to stand trial and be incarcerated for a long time. What she hadn't thought was that he'd offer to bring her with him.

Her mouth curved ever so slightly.
Offer
wasn't quite the word that applied.
Ordered
was more like it.

She'd been prepared to drive herself to the courthouse after leaving Chase at the Maitland Maternity day-care center with Beth. Connor had intercepted her at the front door, informing her that he was driving her in. There had been no room for argument, so she didn't try. If the truth were known, she was relieved that he'd taken charge. Her brave front only went so far.

Now he was sitting beside her like a sentry guarding her from harm. Maybe a small part of him did care, Lacy thought, if only because she was the mother of his child. She wouldn't push for more than that.

“Are you sure?” he asked, the words barely audible. There was a glint of concern in his eyes as they washed over her.

“I'm sure,” she replied just as the bailiff moved forward, announcing the arrival of the presiding judge.

They'd drawn Judge Angela Jennings, a stately, statuesque woman who stood six-one in her stocking feet and had raised five children on her own after the untimely death of the only man she had ever loved. Highly respected for her rulings and her integrity, she was as impartial and fair-minded a judge as they could have hoped for.

All the Maitlands had wanted to come. Those without commitments had, along with a good representation of their friends. As Lacy looked around, it appeared that no one had come to support Janelle.

They all rose in a single wave at the bailiff's behest. The judge walked in. They sat when she instructed them to do so.

Lacy held her breath as the arraignment began.

To Lacy, it was one huge blur.

It was over almost before it began. There was a preponderance of evidence, far more than necessary to convince even the most lenient of judges that Janelle Davis did indeed appear to be the one who had kidnapped Chase O'Hara, not to mention her attempt to defraud the Maitland family of a considerable amount of money by presenting them with a bogus Connor O'Hara. Without anyone to arrange for her bail, Janelle was remanded to the custody of the court and sent to jail to await her trial.

The moment the gavel came down they were on their feet, surging around Megan, who had sat beside Connor. Relieved, Megan invited everyone over to the house for dinner.

Connor struggled with the desire to retreat, knowing that to turn his mother down so soon after the tender shoots of their new beginning had poked their heads through the ground would only hurt Megan's feelings. And he supposed it wouldn't really do any harm to retreat into the family lair and absorb the support everyone so freely offered. So he'd agreed, and he and Lacy had gone to the family mansion after they'd stopped to pick up the baby.

Lacy didn't remember what she ate even while she was eating it. All she knew was that it felt particularly insulating, being in the midst of his family like this. They all seemed to care so much for one another, she thought, watching them.

And seemed bent, to a person, on making Connor feel welcomed and loved. And more, to make him realize that he had the power of a family backing him all the way.

He still didn't realize how lucky he was, Lacy thought. But he would, she felt confident. In time. The power of the love she saw around her was stronger than any loner tendencies Clarise O'Hara might have instilled in her adopted son.

In some cases, Lacy thought, love did win out.

“You look exhausted.”

She jumped, nearly spilling the untouched drink she was holding. Jake had poured a glass and handed it to her more than half an hour ago, but she couldn't seem to make herself drink it. Every time she brought it near her lips, her stomach began to churn. The smell of it was responsible, which was odd—she usually wasn't sensitive to smells.

Lacy hadn't expected Connor to come up behind her.

“I am a little tired,” she admitted. More than she should have been. But then, she mused, she was probably emotionally drained.

She looked pale, Connor thought, and wondered if he should have insisted that she remain at home. She didn't need to be subjected to the likes of Janelle any more than she absolutely had to. “Why don't I take you home?”

Home.
It had such a nice sound. If only it really was her home. But she knew better.

It was Connor's home and her place to stay. Temporarily, until she could come up with a better situation that would allow Connor instant access to his son. She knew they couldn't go on this way indefinitely. Not without things coming to a head or getting completely out of hand.

She thought about the other night. Maybe things already were out of hand. She supposed it depended on a person's definition of out of hand.

“I don't want to be any trouble.” She looked at
Ellie, sitting on the sofa. One of Megan's twin daughters, Ellie was bouncing Chase on her knee while several members of the family stood around her, talking and looking on. Chase was laughing with glee, the obvious star of the show. “I'll just take Chase and call a cab.”

“I said I'll take you home.” Embarrassed, Connor realized his voice had an edge to it. Muttering something under his breath, he forced himself to sound more at ease. “Besides, I'm kind of bushed myself.”

He did look a little tired, she thought. Or maybe he was using her as an excuse to get away. She felt too drained to protest.

“All right.” She put down the untouched glass of champagne. The light rippled through it. “Let me just say goodbye to your mother.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulders, briefly securing her position beside him before he went to get their son. “I already said our goodbyes. She was the one who suggested I take you home.”

Searching the other woman out, Lacy saw her by the fireplace, talking to her attorney. It struck her what a nice pair they made. She wondered if either of them realized it.

As if by instinct, Megan turned her head toward her. Their eyes met across the room, and Lacy nodded at the matriarch, who smiled and waved her on her way.

Connor returned holding Chase in his arms. He
looked so much more at ease with his son than he had a few weeks ago. Practice makes perfect, Lacy thought.

“I'll take him.” She held out her arms, but Connor made no attempt to transfer possession of the little boy. Instead, he carefully shifted the child to his shoulder.

“That's okay. I've got him.”

The perfect father, she thought with a smile. Connor was coming along nicely.

A sea of goodbyes accompanied them out the front door. Lacy braced herself as they went out, grateful that at least the humidity was low these past few days. The daytime temperatures were high, but not unpleasantly so, and the air cooled down by evening.

They walked in companionable silence to his car. Connor had insisted on parking the vehicle outside rather than in the garage. No doubt for a quick getaway, she thought, amused.

Lacy was all set to help Connor strap Chase into his car seat, but he did it himself. She got into the front seat and strapped herself in. Pretty soon he would be fine with Chase by himself, she thought. He had already changed a couple of diapers, and he'd fed the baby more than once.

This was what she had wanted, Lacy reminded herself. To get Connor to interact with his son. Why did triumph come with an ache?

She felt too tired to think it through. Lacy stared
at the mansion as he pulled away. There were lights on everywhere. It made her feel warm.

“I guess that's round one,” Lacy murmured. Connor spared her a silent, quizzical look as he turned the vehicle around and began heading for the open road. “The arraignment,” she clarified. “It's round one.”

“It's just the warmup,” he corrected. “The first day of the trial will be round one.”

The trial promised to be a long, drawn-out affair. Chelsea had warned them of that. The local media were hungry for some angle to play up, and Maitland was a name that everyone knew. Lacy wondered how all this was going to affect Connor and if she was going to have an inkling of his reactions. He played everything so close to the chest. She supposed that was why she was so grateful when she saw him opening up to their son.

The trees that lined the road looked bigger in the night, their leafy branches reaching into the sky. “Do you know who Janelle is going to get to defend her?”

He shook his head. It hadn't crossed his mind. As far as he was concerned, they could lock the woman up and throw away the key. “She has no money, as far as anyone knows. More than likely, the court'll have to appoint someone.” They came to a red light, and he eased to a stop. Connor tried to read the expression on Lacy's face. It looked like pity, but he
couldn't believe he was right. Not after all that had happened. “What is it?”