Wicked & Willing. Leslie Kelly
ignored him. “What happened to your mother?”
“She died when I was eight.”
“Then who raised you?”
“I was lucky enough to be placed in a really good foster home. My foster mother raised me until I left home at eighteen.”
“Your mother had no family?”
Venus shrugged. “None who wanted me.”
She didn’t glance at Troy, not wanting to see a look of pity on his face. She’d never pitied herself, and she’d damn sure never wanted it from anybody else. Especially not a man with whom she was in serious lust.
“So, judging by your birth date, it is very likely you were conceived during the weeks my son spent in New York. If he was, indeed, your father, your parents’ relationship would have to have been a very…brief one.”
She tensed, waiting for him to make one crack about her mother’s morals. Venus might not know much about her biological father, but she’d adored her always-smiling mother until Trina had drawn her last breath. If this stranger spoke one negative word about her, Venus would be out the door so fast he’d think she’d fallen off the balcony.
He didn’t. “So it is possible that your mother never knew my son by any other name than the one he adopted for the stage.”
“There’s that word again…possible,” Venus said, surprised at the relief flowing through her veins just because the old man hadn’t passed judgment on her mother.
He continued softly, talking almost to himself. “And it’s also possible she had difficulty reaching him to tell him about you. She must have been desperate.” He glanced at the sky, continuing to formulate his theory aloud. “Perhaps she sent your picture, with the name Violet on the back, to a club in Los Angeles. The letter might have had only his stage name on it. It could have taken a long time for it to catch up to him.” He returned his gaze to Venus. “But when he did receive it, it changed everything. He was coming back.”
“More could haves and might haves,” she insisted, knowing the man was speculating. She still couldn’t bring herself to believe this scenario. It was too farfetched. Too coincidental.
Too damned heartbreaking.
Venus didn’t want to believe her father had died within days…maybe hours…of finding out about her. She didn’t want to think of her mother—who’d said she’d fallen ass over elbows in love with the man when they’d bickered over a cab in the rain—wasting the last eight years of her life waiting for someone who was already long gone. She couldn’t bear to think of Trina pining for a man who’d gotten her message, planned to come back to them…and then died before ever being able to do so.
No, the whole thing was too sad. And Venus wasn’t into sad.
Feeling moisture in her eyes, she swung around, turning her back to the three men. She stared out at the sky, blinking rapidly, groping for control. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder, a supportive squeeze, a tender offer of reassurance.
Turning her head, she saw Troy standing there. He didn’t say anything, didn’t offer trite, nurturing words. He just let her know she wasn’t alone, with a small nod and a look of intense concern on his face. She took a deep breath, sucking up his silently offered strength. Then, crossing her arms in front of her chest, she faced Max again. “Let me ask you something now.”
He waited expectantly.
“If all this is true—and I think that’s a big humongous if—why’d it take almost thirty years to find me?”
Max glanced at Leo. “My nephew apparently thought of something I never did all those years ago. We assumed Max, my son, had been involved with someone in California. We focused our search efforts there. And, of course, we used his real name.”
Leo smiled. She thought he was going for self-deprecating, but his expression looked self-congratulatory instead. “I’m so sorry I didn’t think of the possibility of him meeting someone in New York long ago. Nor of having a private investigator search birth records in the northeast to see if Max Longotti or Matt Messina turned up as a father during that time.”
She immediately latched on to his words. “Birth records. So you have seen a copy of my birth certificate?”
Leo’s jovial expression never faltered. “No, I left it in the hands of the investigator. He is the one who obtained those records, then tracked you down. I simply utilized the address he provided.”
Smooth. Reasonable. But she didn’t completely buy it.
“Is he going to send you those records?”
A slight narrowing of his eyes indicated his annoyance. “I’m sure I’ll receive them now that the case is concluded.”
Wanting to gauge the man’s reaction, Venus said, “My foster mother said she does have some paperwork, after all. She’s digging it out and mailing it to my home in Baltimore.”
Leo stared at her for a moment, then his smile thinned. “Good.”
Troy, who’d been standing quietly for several moments, cleared his throat.
“You have something to contribute, Troy?” Max asked.
Troy raised a brow. “It seems you’re at an impasse,” he offered. “You may discuss dates, pseudonyms and birth certificates all afternoon and never come to an agreement.”
He sounded like a businessman brokering a big deal. Venus almost rolled her eyes, wondering where the flirty hunk who’d kissed her until she was brainless and limp had gotten to.
“Wouldn’t it be simpler to just conduct a DNA test?” he finally concluded.
“I’ve already thought of that,” Leo interjected. He touched his uncle’s arm. “Of course, knowing your mistrust of newfangled science, I made sure to contact one of the experts in the field. When I hear back from him, we’ll bring him to Atlanta and have him conduct the test.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Max agreed. He raised a quivering hand to his brow, looking out of sorts. “Splendid. That’s much more conclusive than any birth records, which aren’t entirely reliable. DNA. Marvelous thing.”
DNA tests? Conclusive proof? Things were going too fast for Venus’s taste. She hadn’t decided if she liked this old guy, and she definitely hadn’t decided if she even wanted to know the truth!
She cocked her head and raised her hand, wiggling her fingers in a little wave. “Hello? Anybody going to ask me if I’m willing to roll up my sleeve and let some stranger poke needles into me? What if I don’t particularly like needles?”
“Actually, I think they swab your cheek,” Troy explained.
She shot him a glare that told him to mind his own business. “Oh, you’ve undergone these tests before? Have lots of potential illegitimate junior executives running around out there, do you?”
As he stiffened, Venus cursed her quick temper and sarcasm. Troy had only been trying to help, after all.
Her barb had obviously angered him. His eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem very anxious to confirm your claim, Ms. Messina.”
“It’s not my claim.”
“Perhaps not,” he admitted. “Or perhaps you want Max to think you don’t believe it. Throwing your arms around him and calling him Grandpa might have made him suspect your motives. This insistence that you’re not may make him more sympathetic.” He stepped closer, until the tips of his shoes almost touched her toes. She forced herself to stay still, so close to him she could smell his warm cologne and see the beating of his pulse in his neck. She could think of nothing except the way his mouth had tasted against hers, just minutes before.
“And generous,” he finally concluded.
Venus