Chapter Two
Will Connelly was wired. Two days of uncertainty waiting for the DNA test results, and then the rage that had pushed him out of the city and all the way to this nothing town in upstate New York. The town wasn’t even near an airport, so it ended up being more efficient to drive than take a plane, which was just one more added aggravation. Maybe he should have put this meeting off until he was in a better state, but he’d be damned if he’d let the farce continue a moment longer.
He yanked on the diner door and strode inside, looking around the empty restaurant for the target of his anger.
“Hello!” he yelled, and a woman appeared from the back room.
She was taller than he’d imagined, wearing jeans and a black Springsteen T-shirt partially covered by a white apron. Her eyes widened with recognition and apprehension as she looked at him, but the rest of her expression was more disciplined. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He shouldn’t have come. He was too angry, and it was going to be too hard for him to handle this the way he insisted his affairs be handled. He couldn’t be smooth, not after this woman’s deception. But it was too late to turn around. “I got the DNA results,” he growled.
She wiped her hands nervously on her apron and looked around as if confirming that the diner was empty. “And?” she finally asked, her chin jutted out in challenge.
“And the swab came up negative. No relationship whatsoever.”
“Well, I said this wasn’t a sure thing. In my email, I said I was just chasing down possibilities. You’re the one who made it a big deal. I’m not sure why you’re so angry.”
“Angry?” She’d seen it, had she? Good. He wanted Cassidy Frost to know how he felt, and know how eager he was to exact his revenge. “I’m angry because of the other test.”
That froze her. Again, he took a vicious satisfaction in seeing her uncertainty. “What other test?”
“The test from the straw Emily was chewing on that day. The straw my lawyer took with him after talking to her.” He watched her closely as he said, “The straw that carried her DNA. DNA that shows she’s my daughter. My child.”
No reaction. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but he’d wanted something. This woman’s sister had robbed him of his daughter for thirteen years, and then she herself had tried to extend the deception, and she was going to just stare at him? No panicked excuses, no pleas for mercy. Just a blank stare.
She was thinking, he realized. Plotting, recalculating. Her initial strategy, whatever the hell it had been, had failed, and now she was devising a new one.
“Do you have paperwork on that?” she finally said. “Am I just supposed to take your word for it?”
“I’m not surprised to hear that someone’s word doesn’t mean much to you.” But despite the temptation, this wasn’t what he should be focusing on. There would be many chances to deal with her fraud. He needed to set his anger aside. “Where is my daughter right now?”
“I’ve seen no proof she’s your daughter. And you absolutely don’t have custody of her. So her whereabouts are none of your business, and you don’t have my permission to go anywhere near her.”
Trevor had warned him about this. His lawyer had wanted to handle it all, delivering Emily to him in a nicely wrapped package. But Will had needed to come himself.
He eyed the woman in front of him. He needed to figure her out.
She was more feminine in person than she’d been in the grainy newspaper picture Trevor had found on the internet. Prettier. She’d looked boyish in the photo but in person there was an unexpected grace to her movements. But her appearance wasn’t what he should be focusing on. What the hell was going on behind it all?
“What’s your game, here? You’re the one who contacted me. Why the hell did you do that if you didn’t want me to know about Emily?” It was a good question, one he should have asked much sooner. “Something changed,” he mused. “When you contacted me, you wanted me to know about her. And then…what?”
“And then you treated it like you were staging a hostile takeover!” she spat, cheeks flushing. “I sent you a casual note, and you responded with lawyers. I thought Emily might want to get to know her dad, not his legal team.”
They stood there in the shabby diner, staring at each other. He knew he was right to be angry. He’d known Penelope Frost when she was calling herself Pippa, between his junior and senior years of college, and they’d parted on good terms, as far as he’d known. But she apparently hadn’t thought enough of him to let him know she was carrying his child. And this woman, staring back at him, was fierce and clearly not at all ashamed of what she’d done. Will was furious about the whole situation, but Cassidy Frost seemed to think she was right to be angry, too. And he wasn’t sure she was completely wrong.
…
“We should sit down,” Cassidy made herself say. She really meant calm down, and she was pretty sure William Connelly knew it. “This is about Emily. What’s best for her. Right?”
“Of course,” Connelly said. “But in order for us to both know what’s best for her, I think we both need to know more about the relative situations. For example, you should know what I can offer her and the ways I can improve her life. And I should know where the hell she is.”
“It’s ten in the morning on a school day. Where the hell do you think she is?”
“What school does she attend? Is she doing well?”
“She’s doing fine,” Cassidy replied. She sank into the nearest booth. Not the family booth, not with this jerk. Maybe she was giving up some sort of tactical advantage by lowering her physical position, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could count on her legs to hold her up. This was happening. This man was here, tall and handsome and intimidating. He was angry, and he was Emily’s biological father, with a team of lawyers at his disposal. Cassidy was Em’s legal guardian, sure, but would she be able to defend that claim if this man took her to court? Fear stabbed through her.
After a long wait, Connelly slid into the booth opposite her, filling the space with his imposing presence. There was stubble on his face, but he otherwise looked completely put together. Crisp shirt, conservative tie, suit that probably cost more than she’d ever spent on clothing in her life. This was the man who wanted to be Emily’s father? Did he think being a parent was a fashion show? But, damn it, this was the man who was Emily’s father, apparently. Did he look like her? It was hard to see past the polish and professionalism, but maybe…maybe there was a resemblance. Believing that made it a little easier to talk to the man, at least.
“She’s doing well,” she said. The words felt like a gift she wasn’t sure she wanted to give. “She misses her mom, but she has good friends and she works hard and she’s a great kid.”
He frowned. “Her school…it’s a public school? Are there ratings, or compilations of test scores to be reviewed? What are her extracurricular activities?”
“She’s doing well,” Cassidy repeated, more firmly this time. “As and Bs. I don’t know how you compare schools, but it doesn’t really matter because there’s only one in town. And she doesn’t do formal extracurriculars. She helps out here, she rides her horse, she spends time with her friends. The last few months have been hard, but other than that, she’s happy.”
“Happy,” Connelly said, as if he wasn’t sure how the word was relevant to their conversation. “But no extracurriculars? And some Bs, even though she’s only at a public school?”
Cassidy didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to admit that this man had the right to ask these questions. And, damn it, resemblance nor not, maybe he didn’t have the right. “I’m going to need to see the test results,” she said firmly. “Until I see them, you’re just a weird man asking personal questions about a thirteen-year-old girl.”
“That’s the approach you want to take?” His voice was quiet and level, and would have seemed conversational if his eyes hadn’t been locked on her so intently. “You want this to be a confrontation instead of a cooperation?”
She refused to look away from his stare. “I want to protect Emily. If you’re her father, I’d expect you to want the same thing, and I’d expect you to cooperate instead of confront.”
“You want me to cooperate with the woman who kept my daughter from me?” Connelly demanded, his eyes flashing.
Cassidy probably would have found his tone more frightening if she hadn’t been distracted by the gentle ring of the bell on the diner door and the sight of Deanna Wilson, official Town Gossip, on her mid-morning coffee run.
“Wait,” Cassidy ordered Connelly in a low voice. She started to slide out of the booth, fixing a smile on her face for Deanna.
But she wasn’t even upright before Connelly replied, “Wait? I’ve already waited thirteen years. I’m not waiting anymore. No more games; I want to see my daughter.”
Crap. “We’re temporarily closed,” Cassidy barked at Deanna, whose eyes were bright with interest.
“Is there something—” Deanna started, already building her fake I’m-so-concerned expression, but she stopped talking and started backing up as Cassidy charged toward her.
“Come back tomorrow,” Cassidy invited, or possibly ordered, and she all but shoved Deanna out the door.
As soon as she had the door locked and the sign flipped to “Closed,” Cassidy whirled for her phone.
“Who are you calling?” Connelly asked from just the other side of the counter.
“Who do you think?” This arrogant son-of-a-bitch, cruising in and acting like— “Debbie? It’s Cassidy Frost. Can you pull Emily out of class, please? Right away? I’m going to come by and pick her up. I’ll meet her at the front doors in five minutes.” The school secretary agreed, and Cassidy dropped the phone and reached for her purse.
“What the hell are you doing?” Connelly demanded. “You can’t hide her from me.”
“Hide her?” Cassidy whirled toward him. “God, I wish I could. I wish I could run away with her and keep her away from the crazy asshole who thinks he has the right to pee on his territory and make public claims in front of gossip queens! I wish I could protect her from a man who doesn’t care if his own daughter finds out about him from a nosy neighbor instead of having the chance to deal with the situation on her own terms at her own speed.” She was at the door now and waved her arm at him. “Get out. I have to get to the school before Emily hears about this from some classmate with a cell phone.”
“I should follow you—” he started as he brushed past her out of the diner.
“You should go to hell,” she interrupted, and yanked the door shut behind her. This mess was partly her fault. She’d started it. But Will Connelly, with his designer suit and demanding attitude, had made everything much, much worse. She needed to get to Emily and start trying to make things better.
…
Will gave himself about five seconds to stare after Cassidy Frost as she clambered into an old pick-up truck parked in front of the diner, then pulled out his phone. “You’ve got someone outside the school?” he said as soon as the call was answered.
“We do,” Trevor confirmed.
“The aunt’s going there to pick her up. Follow them, but do it discreetly. She’s pretty worked up”—possibly for good reason—“and I don’t want to set her off.”
“I’ll tell the team,” Trevor said calmly. “You want to meet and review things?”
“Have you got anything new?”
“Not much. But you could tell me about your meeting.”
“Maybe later,” Will said and ended the call. More like maybe never. He was pretty sure he’d made a complete mess of things, pretty sure the aunt had been more right than wrong with her accusations, and he’d rather not share that with someone who worked for him. Not even Trevor, who had been a friend long before he’d been a lawyer. Will thought briefly of calling Victoria, back in the city, but dismissed the idea before it was fully formed. Victoria was someone to celebrate his victories with, not someone to help him with his defeats.
Not that this was a defeat. He hadn’t lost, and he damn well wouldn’t lose. He had a daughter and he was going to be a part of her life. But that scene in the diner?
He hadn’t been at his best. Too little sleep, too much emotion. Too little self-control, and he absolutely should have gotten over that failing by this point in his life. If he’d kept his cool and hadn’t been so eager to—what had the infuriating woman said? So eager to pee on his territory. Was that what he’d been doing? Was he thinking of his daughter as a possession rather than a person?
He pulled his phone out again, and Trevor picked up after the first ring. “We need to put a team together. Child psychologists, grief counsellors, educational consultants…anyone else you can think of who’d have something valuable to say. I need to figure out what’s best for this kid, and how to get it to her with the minimum of trauma. You and your investigators will present what we know about her, the experts will come up with a plan, and I’ll find a way to execute the plan. Makes sense?”
The pause was too long. “Trevor?”
“I can do all that,” Trevor said carefully. Another long pause before he added, “I think you’re missing someone from the list of experts.”
“I’m sure I am. That’s why I told you to get whoever you could think of.”
“Well, the person I’m thinking of—” He sighed as if he was giving up his attempt to talk around the problem. “The mother needs to be involved in this process.”
“The mother is dead, Trevor.”
“I don’t think so. Yes, Penelope Frost is dead. Absolutely. But based on the reports I’ve been getting, she was, at best, half of the mothering team for this young lady.”
“The aunt,” Will said, his stomach dropping. The woman who’d lied to him, the woman he’d tried to bully, the woman who was furious with him. The woman whose flashing eyes had made her look fierce, dangerous, and too damn beautiful.
“Penelope and Cassidy Frost were co-owners of the business and the family residence. Penelope worked part time as an adventure-travel writer and took frequent international trips, during which Cassidy had sole care of Emily. Penelope died without a will, but there were no custody issues because her sister has shared legal guardianship of the girl since Emily was less than a year old—as soon as Cassidy turned eighteen and could assume the responsibility. As far as I can see, Cassidy Frost has been Emily’s primary caregiver for her whole life. She will, therefore, play an invaluable role in planning for her future.” Another long pause before Trevor added, “You mentioned that Cassidy Frost is worked up. Is that something that may interfere with her participation?”
Shit. “Probably,” Will admitted. “I messed up, came on way too strong.”
“Even the mightiest hunter shouldn’t get between a mother bear and her cub,” Trevor said. There was something in his voice that sounded suspiciously like amusement.
A mother bear. A mother. Will thought about Cassidy Frost’s actions and reactions, and they made more sense. They began to seem almost heroic, really. She had contacted him with the best of intentions, become worried when the response wasn’t what she’d expected, and then tried to protect her cub. Her daughter.
His daughter.
But compared to Cassidy’s relationship with her, he was just a sperm donor. That hadn’t been by choice—at least, not by his choice—but that probably didn’t mean much to Cassidy. As far as he knew, none of it had been her choice, either. She was just trying to do the right thing for the girl she loved and was clearly determined to take care of.
“Call off the surveillance,” he said into the phone.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Call it off.” He wanted her to trust him? Well, maybe he needed to trust her a little, first.
He ended the call and turned to look at the diner behind him. He’d barely noticed it when he’d gone storming in, but took a moment now to observe. The place was clean, but everything inside looked well-worn. Comfortable, maybe, or maybe just shabby.
He cupped his hands against the window and peered inside to read the menu on the chalkboard behind the counter. Nothing complicated, which made sense considering it seemed to be a one-person operation.
If Cassidy Frost was making her living off the diner, it wasn’t much of a damn living. His daughter deserved better. It wasn’t Cassidy’s fault, but there was no way this place was going to pay for Emily to go to college, or travel, or even just to feel secure, knowing she’d be able to pay for whatever she needed.
So that would be his first step. He might not know what was going on with the girl’s emotions, but he knew money, and how to use it to get what he wanted. What Emily wanted. He’d keep things flexible, of course, but he wouldn’t keep himself from using the tools available to him.
He needed to be doing something. So he’d do what he knew best.