“Why not approach my lawyer? That’s how things like this are done.”
“I thought it would be—”
“Easier to extort money.”
“I don’t want money.” She fisted her hand, punching the air. “And I know you don’t want a child.”
“How do you know anything about me?”
Holding the brightly colored spiral notebook, she picked at the half-peeled $3.99 Ross price tag on the back. “It’s all in here, your name, your description, your words to her. But when you read all that, I have to be sure this book is protected. It’s all I have to prove my case.”
“Then maybe you don’t have much of a case.”
“Oh, I have a case. And I have a child who...” Looks a hell of a lot like you. “Who I want to keep, without living in fear that someone is going to try to claim him.”
“So you’ve said.” He inched forward. A lock of chestnut hair fell over his brow, close to the golden-brown eyes that looked so much like...like Dylan’s. “What do you really want, honey, because I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”
Tiny beads of perspiration stung at her neck and temples, her cool slipping with each second that she had to face him. “I want that child. I want him safe and protected with me.”
Something flickered in his eyes, a flash that went by so fast she wasn’t positive she’d seen it, but she knew she’d hit some kind of emotional hot button.
“And you don’t,” she added, because what if that was the hot button she’d hit? What if he wanted a child? “It says so right here.” She tapped Carrie’s journal, maybe a little harder than necessary. “It says a lot of things about you that I don’t think you want out in public.”
Hollow threat, of course, but still she threw that trump card down again, hoping it would work. Surely a man with his lifestyle, money, and famously documented inability to commit didn’t want a child he’d fathered almost five years ago.
Did he?
“Hey, Nate!”
Startled at the man’s voice, Liza turned to see Zeke Nicholas, one of the other men who’d been involved in the announcement today, jogging across the patio deck, impatience darkening his expression. “You missed your at bat, man. Come on!”
Nate held up his hand and shook his head.
“‘Scuse me,” Zeke said to Liza as he reached the table. “But I have to steal this heartthrob for just a—”
“Shut it, Zeke!” Fury sparked in Nate’s eyes, but he didn’t take them off Liza, making her certain his anger was not directed at his friend.
Zeke froze midstep. “Everything okay here?”
“We’re fine,” Liza said, seizing the opportunity. “I’m getting Mr. Ivory’s autograph.” Not that she had any real hope left that he’d sign, but maybe with his friend here, he’d buckle. It was worth a shot. “Right here, sir. And then you’ll make the second inning.”
His nostrils flared as he took a slow breath and shook his head. “You have to play without me, Zeke.” Suddenly, he stood, gathering up the papers and the envelope in one swooping motion. “Liza and I are going somewhere more private.”
She didn’t move but glanced at Zeke, who seemed as surprised as Liza was. “So we should meet you on board the yacht later, for cocktails?”
Nate shook his head. “Sorry, the party’s canceled. Come on, Liza.” He reached for her hand, and when she didn’t take his, he closed his fingers over her wrist to gently pull her up. “I can’t wait one more minute to get you alone.”
Zeke looked skyward. “So much for ‘the new Nate.’”
“Go play softball,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ve got something more important to deal with.”
With a stiff nod, Zeke left, but Liza held her ground. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“We’re not talking about this here, out in the open with staff running around. Any one of them could be recording this conversation on a cell phone.”
She glanced at the busboy who openly stared at Nate as he slowed purposely by their table. He was right, of course. Everyone was interested in his business.
“Look.” He leaned closer, the low tenor of his voice practically vibrating the air between them. “I don’t know you or this kid or this Carrie character from Adam. But if you think I’m putting my name on anything without details and dates, along with legal, scientific, and medical proof, you’re out of your mind. Let’s go.”
She pressed the notebook to her heart, a flimsy four-dollar shield against his billion-dollar onslaught. “I have all that. And there’s no doubt of paternity.”
He tried to usher her away from the table. “Oh, there’s plenty of doubt. I’m not stupid, and I don’t make mistakes when I mess around with strangers.”
“You’re calling her a stranger? Your lover for almost two months until you found out she was pregnant and dumped her?”
His eyes widened, then he shook his head with a soft, sarcastic laugh. “I’ve heard some pretty creative scams, honey, really, I have. But I gotta hand it to you. This is good. Innovative, complex, and ballsy.” He had the nerve to give her a salacious grin and openly check her out from head to toe, sending a completely unwanted awareness through her. “And all wrapped up in a hot little package with sex-kitten eyes and my kind of rack. It’s good, kid. It’s good.”
Sex kitten? Kid? His kind of rack?
What had Carrie been thinking when she fell for this tool? “Nothing about this is innovative or ballsy and, honestly, the story isn’t that complex. Let me spell it out for you.”
“Not here.”
“Right here, and right now.”
Another waiter walked by, slowing his steps, and glancing in their direction.
“Okay, okay,” she finally gave in, walking with him off the deck to the beach, to the opposite side of where the game was being played. When they were completely out of earshot of anyone else, she took a breath of salt-infused air, mustering up momentum for her power-plea. But her sandals sank into soft sand, giving him even more of a height advantage.
She refused to cower.
“Listen to me,” she said. “You can deny this all you want or pretend you never heard of her or claim you’re too smart to make a mistake. But the facts are simple: Carrie had your child after you made it perfectly clear you wanted no part of a baby, and she spent three years in fear that you’d find her and claim him. She lived with me since she arrived in Florida, pregnant and unemployed, and became my best friend. She was killed by a drunk driver on I-75 a year ago and left me guardianship of her child, whom I plan to legally adopt and raise. I can’t do that until I know for sure and certain you will never try to take him away from me. What’s ballsy about that?”