Valentine's Secret Child. Christine Rimmer
“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.”