Jill Limber - Secrets Of An Old Flame

Agreeing to nothing, she said, “Close the door.”

She turned her back on him and busied herself unzipping the baby’s sleeper.

Behind her the door closed and she fought down the irrational urge to throw something at it. Damn the man. He could bring out the worst in her without even breaking a sweat.

After changing and nursing her son, she put the sleepy baby back to bed. He’d nap for at least an hour, giving her a chance to get ready.

Nikki took a shower and dressed for the day in a blue silk business suit two years out of date. It was the best she could do. Her wardrobe was the last thing she could afford to spend money on now.

She gave herself a critical once-over in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. The skirt length was wrong, but the fabric was quality and the lines classic, even though the skirt hung loosely and the jacket fit too tightly over her fuller breasts.

She knew the value of a professional appearance. She had too much pride to go to her father’s attorney, Fielder Carey, looking desperate. She could only hope he would agree to help her without asking for a retainer.

The Walker family’s credit rating had slipped so far she had her doubts he would agree to delayed payment.

For good measure she damned Joe again for further complicating her life as she headed down the stairs. Even without him she already had as much on her plate as she could handle.

Needing coffee and something to eat, Nikki went through the dining room and butler’s pantry into the kitchen.

Joe had left her a fresh pot of coffee. The sight of the full carafe brought back bittersweet memories of a year ago. Of coming downstairs when Joe had spent the night to find fresh coffee, a note, and sometimes a flower from the garden.

Usually he’d left for work before she’d awakened. He knew how she struggled to wake up in the mornings and always made sure he left coffee waiting.

His thoughtfulness about little things had drawn her to him. She’d been so needy, feeling frightened, deserted and unloved at her father’s disappearance. She’d clung to him like a fool, too desperate to see he was using her to get to her father.

In those few weeks she’d thought she’d fallen in love with him. Emotions threatened to swamp her, and she reached to turn on the television and drown them out.

The audio came on first with a description of a home invasion robbery. Legs shaking, she slid onto a stool at the counter. As the screen resolved into a clear picture of her home, she put her head down on the counter and tried not to cry, longing for the anonymity of the small town in Canada where she’d lived with her aunt and awaited Michael’s birth.

Nikki lifted her head and stared at the perky bright-eyed newswoman intent on bringing everyone up to date on current events, as well as handing out reminders of last year’s scandal.

It was like having someone tear the scab off a half-healed wound.

The nightmare was never going to go away. Naively she’d hoped the media would consider the break-in last night too trivial to air, and the murder, the missing M. Raymond Walker and his millions old news, not worth a mention.

So much for quietly returning home. This latest incident would only make it harder to convince the court she knew nothing about her father’s disappearance.

Nikki laid her head back down on the counter, fighting the urge to go back upstairs, crawl into bed and pull the covers up over her head.

Nikki left the stroller in a corner and stood in the reception area of the law firm of Richards, Carey and White. She held Michael and took slow deep breaths to settle the flutter of nerves in her midsection.

She’d been in contact with Mr. Carey during the past year, but she hadn’t told him about the baby.

Michael’s coos sounded loud in the hushed atmosphere of rich walnut paneling, leather chairs and Oriental rugs. She shifted her infant son to cover the spot on her jacket where he’d spit up during the bus ride downtown.

Fielder Carey, tall and handsome with silver-gray hair and conservative suit, strode toward her, his step faltering only slightly when his eyes traveled from her face to the baby she held.

“Nikki, dear, it’s so good to see you. I was worried about you after I heard about last night.”

For a startled moment Nikki thought he meant he knew that Joe had moved in. Then she realized he was talking about the break-in.

“Hello Mr. Carey. This is my son, Michael.” The baby chose that particular moment to blow an impressive spit bubble, his latest trick.

A startled, angry look crossed his patrician features, then quickly disappeared as he glanced at Michael. Nikki wasn’t surprised by his reaction.

Being of the same generation, he would hold the same opinions as her father. Unmarried women shouldn’t have babies, and if they made mistakes, they certainly shouldn’t be aired in public.

“I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me about the baby.” The mild censure in his tone made her want to squirm. He was her only ally in this mess.

Having no good answer for him, she mustered up a smile as he took her hand and leaned in to give her a customary peck on the cheek.

“Shall we go back to my office?” He took her arm and managed to smooth out the awkward moment as he guided her down the familiar hallway.

Nikki settled in an armchair, the baby in the crook of her arm.

Carey slid into a massive desk chair done in the same burgundy leather. His desktop was so tidy it looked like a photograph in an ad for upscale office furniture.

Nikki cleared her throat and decided to get right to the point, not sure how much time she had before Michael would need to eat. She couldn’t picture herself unbuttoning her jacket to feed her child in front of the attorney.

“Mr. Carey, thank you for getting me permission to stay at the house. I’m sure you are more aware of my financial situation than I am. I need help, but right now I can’t afford to pay you.”

He shook his head and smiled at her as if she were a slow child. “Nikki, I am your family friend as well as attorney. My fee is not an issue.”

Nikki felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. He might not approve of her, but he wouldn’t abandon her, either. “Thank you. That means a lot to me right now.”

He nodded and didn’t speak for a moment as he repositioned a gold pen on his desk blotter so that it aligned perfectly with a slender matching letter opener. “Before we discuss your situation, have you heard from your father?”

The question took Nikki by surprise. She stared at the attorney, wondering for a brief moment if she had misunderstood his question. A year ago he’d agreed with her that her father was probably dead, a victim of his business partner.

Was Mr. Carey keeping something from her? Her heart raced. Was it possible her father had abandoned her for a fortune in stolen money? She suspected that might hurt more than finding out he really was dead.

She cleared her throat, struggling to maintain a normal tone of voice. “No. I haven’t heard anything. Have you?” She didn’t know whether to be hopeful or angry.

“No. Not directly. But a friend of my nephew Don returned recently from a fishing trip. He saw a man on a small island just south of Martinique who looked so much like your father that he called out to him. The man turned away and disappeared into a crowd before he could talk with him. Don said his friend sounded so sure it was Ray.”

The attorney’s words hung in the air as Nikki battled to grasp the possibility that her father was alive.

If it was true, if her father was alive, why hadn’t he tried to contact her? Would he have thought to look for her in Canada? She’d gone to her mother’s hometown.