She drew back in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Not with you. But, I’ve had it with…others.” Keeping his back to her and his face down, he let his shoulders rise and fall with a silent sigh. “When can I meet him?”
“Why…what?” Her heart faltered. “Meet Dylan? You can’t meet him.”
Very slowly, he turned, and she nearly startled from the ragged emotion on his face. She couldn’t quite decipher what he was feeling, but it was powerful and personal. “I have every right to meet this child you claim is my son.”
“For what reason?”
He gave her a look of disbelief. “To determine if he’s really mine.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary.”
He narrowed his eyes and moved imperceptibly closer. “Just what are you hiding, Liza Lemanski?”
“Nothing! I’m not hiding anything. Look.” Fighting a little wave of panic, she grabbed the bag she’d dropped on the table, flipping it open. “You don’t have to meet him.” If he met Dylan, he’d love Dylan. It was impossible not to. And then…he’d want to take Dylan. Just as Carrie feared.
“I have this. This is…” Her fingers closed around the small plastic box that she’d received from the lab. “This swab is a sample of his DNA. And these papers verify it’s his, from my doctor. You can have it tested and compared to yours.”
She put the box and a white envelope on the table.
“Why would I do that?”
“So you know I’m not lying.”
“And then can I meet him?”
She looked up at him, swallowing hard, her whole body feeling like she was trying to turn a tide, and she’d never even expected this particular tsunami. “I really never thought you’d have any interest in meeting him,” she said.
“Well, I do. Right now, as a matter of fact.”
No, no, she would not let that happen . She gestured toward the DNA. “Just do the test and then…” Sign the papers. “Look, Nate, you don’t want a child and you know it. How could you raise him? How would you guide him in life? When would you spend time with him? He needs parenting and I’m…I’m not his mother, but I love him dearly and deeply and the…the ‘lifestyle’ I’m giving him is normal, safe, and sane. I know I don’t have a lot of money, but I give him love and attention and…” Damn it, her voice cracked. “Please don’t use your family power to take my little boy.” She stood up, driven by the need to plead and beg. Whatever it took to keep Dylan. “Please?”
For what seemed like an eternity, he didn’t answer. But his gaze slipped to the box and swab she’d left on the table. “I’ll think about it.”
Right now, that was all she could ask.
Chapter Three
After a sleepless night, Nate texted Elliott Becker and they made plans to meet at the resort for an early run on the beach. When Nate jogged onto the hard-packed sand, he found Becker stretching, along with Zeke Nicholas, and neither one of them looked too happy with him.
“What the hell happened to you yesterday?” Zeke demanded.
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” he said, though he’d already decided to confide in his friends. They were trustworthy and smart, plus they knew his family situation well enough to appreciate the magnitude of the problem.
“Some hot chick shows up and you disappear,” Zeke said.
“Like you two haven’t been MIA since you met Mandy and Frankie,” Nate shot back, easing into a slow stretch to prepare for their run.
“We didn’t ditch the game to get laid.” Becker shook out his legs and started a slow jog.
If only he had, Nate thought. That would be so much easier to explain and so much more in character. Except, he wasn’t that guy anymore.
“So who is this girl, Nate?” Zeke asked. “I saw her talking to Frankie at the end of the press conference, but no one else knew her.”
Becker elbowed him. “Bet Nate knows her now. What bed did you leave her in this morning?”
“She’s at home with”—my son—”a little boy.”
Zeke threw him a surprised look. “She has a kid?”
“Long story.” And Nate wasn’t ready to delve into it all yet. Instead, he let his sneakers hit the sand near the water and picked up the pace. With his eye on the horizon, he let the morning sun warm his muscles.
“Better watch your step, Mr. Ivory,” Becker said, slowing down to get next to Nate. “Zeke and I were just saying there’s something dangerous to bachelors in the air down here.”
Yeah, fatherhood. That was dangerous to bachelors. “Looks like it, the way you two fell like a couple of horny high schoolers,” Nate shot back.
Unaffected, Becker and Zeke shared a grin, then looked at Nate like he was the one who’d done something stupid. In a moment, the three of them fell silent long enough to pick up the pace, run to the north end of the bay, turn around and get serious.
“Loser buys breakfast,” Zeke said.
“Screw that,” Becker said. “Loser buys the restaurant.”
Zeke and Nate cracked up, but Becker didn’t wait to hear them laugh at his joke, kicking sand as he sprinted away. Zeke swore under his breath and did the same thing, leaving Nate twenty feet behind them both in less than a few seconds.
Automatically, he took off, the wind whistling in his ears. But he didn’t have it today, watching both of them get way ahead.
Thoughts of his fitful night before rose up and wrecked his speed like they’d wrecked his sleep. Damn, he had to solve this problem or it would wreck his work, too. And he had too much riding on this new stadium project his friends had entrusted him to run to risk having something like this steal his attention.
Still, did he have a son? What did that mean to his life? Could he walk away from that boy? Should he?
And, of course, the eternal question: What would the Colonel do?
As if there could be a question. Nothing, absolutely nothing, mattered more to the Colonel than family. They were, as the old veteran liked to say, his secret weapon in the war of life. Nate knew how his grandfather would act at the possibility of the Ivory DNA floating in anyone’s bloodstream: Claim that child. He’s one of ours.
But how could he? Nate had just begun to get his act together, and, now…this. Nate had jumped on the chance to own and manage a minor-league team, and not just because no one else in the Ivory dynasty had their hands in professional baseball yet. He had to prove himself to his grandfather, and this was his best, and last, chance.