The Switched Baby Scandal (A Scandals of San Sebastian Novel) (Entangled Bliss) (3 page)

Chapter Three

Reece awkwardly cleared his throat, embarrassed and unnerved at Ms. Lawrence’s presence. She took his hand quickly, shook it once, then sat on the opposite side of the conference table but refused to make eye contact with him, focusing instead in Ms. Fairmont’s direction. Notes of rose and orange blossoms drifted in her wake. Her skin was tinted with a slight pink, and her arms and legs were tightly crossed, her foot bouncing.

Reece shifted in his seat. She seemed entirely too agitated and apparently directed most of it at him. Hadn’t they both had their children switched? Did she realize that he’d suffered, too? A thick knot of fear lodged in his throat, making swallowing difficult.

Did she already know that Alyssa was dead? He gritted his teeth. Of course she didn’t. Miss Fairmont didn’t even seem to know.

But what if she refused to let him see her little girl once she found out about Alyssa’s death, even though by rights the child was his? He knew that if the positions were reversed he’d never give Alyssa up. She was his life, his soul. And she was gone. He relented, putting himself in the woman’s position and trying to think of what he could say to soften the information he knew he had to share.

She was worried. He saw that now. What kind of a monster did she think he was? He wasn’t going to take her child away from her. He merely wanted to offer the little girl whatever he could as a parent. He wanted to be part of her life, and not just as a name on a piece of paper, but in every way he could as a father.

Miss Fairmont adjusted her position at the head of the long table and squarely looked at them. “First of all I’d like once again to apologize to the both of you for the difficulties this has caused. Once the DNA tests are completed, we can clear up this misunderstanding and can work to some resolution.”

Before either of them could ask any questions, the phone on a corner table behind Miss Fairmont hummed with a quiet ring.

“I’m sorry. Just one moment,” Miss Fairmont said, reaching for the phone. She listened intently, keeping her voice low. She hung up, the hold light blinking in bright red, and quickly excused herself from the conference room.

The instant Miss Fairmont left the room, Ms. Lawrence slid him an assessing look, her piercing blue eyes set a bit too wide apart.

“So, what does your wife think of this?”

Reece twisted the gold ring on his finger. It suddenly seemed heavy and cold against his skin.

“She passed away recently.”

Startled into momentary silence, she uncrossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. The coolness in her expression dissolved. “I’m sorry.”

Reece heard a genuineness in her voice, but he ignored the impulse to lean toward her. How could he be attracted to her when he didn’t even know her?

When he didn’t respond, she tried again. “I didn’t mean to be callous, it’s just that Miss Fairmont kept going on about you and your wife, and after the way you looked at me down in the lobby, I just thought…”

“You thought I was a world-class jerk.”

“Maybe for a moment.” She paused, looking away in embarrassment and tucking her long fingers under the edges of her well-shaped legs, where her blue skirt stopped midthigh. She glanced up at him.

“Miss Fairmont doesn’t know, does she?” she asked, her voice much softer than before. He noticed that other things had softened about her as well—the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her head. She was obviously putting on a tough front but was as shaken by this turn of events as he was.

“No. I haven’t gotten the chance to tell her yet. She tends to run the conversation.”

Ms. Lawrence let out a nervous, little laugh. “I noticed.” The tip of her tongue brushed across her lips, dampening them. “How are you and your little girl getting along without your wife?”

Reece squirmed. He didn’t want to tell her about Alyssa just yet, and his acute physical awareness of her was clouding his thoughts.

“Has it been really hard on her?”

Reece swallowed. It was better to just get all the cards out on the table. He opened his mouth to tell her, but before he could blurt his thoughts out, Miss Fairmont returned, her breathing rapid.

“I’m sorry for the interruption,” she said, sliding into her chair. Reece watched her inhale and hold it to slow her breathing. Something had gotten her riled. And whatever it was, wasn’t good.

“Is something wrong, Miss Fairmont?” Ms. Lawrence asked, leaning forward in her seat.

“No. But it appears the media were tipped about this incident and are trying to dig up information. I assure you that they’ll be held off until the tests are complete and you are ready to release statements.” She smiled, but it did nothing to reassure Reece. He’d seen too many of his own clients caught in the media feeding frenzy an incident like this aroused, especially in a small town where things of this nature were big news. If the press smelled blood, there was little that a few statements were going to do to stop them.

Miss Fairmont fidgeted with the abandoned manila folders, flipping one open. “Mr. Wallace, I have three sets of forms to approve the DNA testing. Could you have your wife fill out one for herself and your daughter?”

“No.”

Miss Fairmont’s dark eyes widened at his flat refusal. “It’s really only a formality, Mr. Wallace. Just permission to draw blood and complete the tests,” she said, extending the papers toward him.

“I’m very sorry, Miss Fairmont. I tried to tell you earlier, but my wife, Rebecca, died about a year ago.”

The sparkle in Miss Fairmont’s eyes faded, and she stiffened in the chair. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wallace, I had no idea. You must think me horribly rude to keep mentioning her, but I really didn’t know.”

He waved his hand, dismissing her anxiety. “It’s all right. There is no way you would have known; the accident happened in Southern California while we were visiting her family. Please, just go ahead with whatever it is we’re supposed to be doing here today.”

Concern furrowed her brow. “Are you sure?”

Reece nodded, noting that the women exchanged a glance of pity with each other before refocusing on him. “Well, if you’re certain…”

“Miss Fairmont, I’d really like to discuss what should happen next, as I’m sure Ms. Lawrence would.”

Miss Fairmont reached out and patted his hand. “Certainly, Mr. Wallace.”

Reece bit back a growl. He wasn’t a damn pity case. He wanted answers…for somebody to account for this monumental screwup. He felt like snatching the stack of manila folders in front of Ms. Fairmont to push the process ahead, but forced himself to be civil.

Ms. Fairmont settled back in her seat and opened another of the manila files. “As you know, the girls share the same birth date. We initiated our investigation at the prompting of Ms. Lawrence when she discovered inadvertently that she and her daughter, Emily, did not have related DNA profiles.”

He glanced over at Taylor Lawrence, his logical mind doing a double take. What had prompted her to seek DNA information? He noted that her hands were devoid of a wedding ring with not even a white band around her finger to indicate there had been one there. Was she divorced? What exactly was her story?

He looked away and squeezed his hands, letting his own ring bite into the base of his finger and palm. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be interested or care about her current marital status. He shouldn’t be attracted to her. As long as his little girl had been loved and cared for and he could hope to have a part in her life, that was all that should matter.

From the corner of his eye he watched her. How would she feel when he asked for visitation with his natural child when he had no child to share with her in return? He was fairly certain it might shatter her world, just as losing Alyssa had shattered his. Damn. He didn’t want to hurt her, but it looked like he had no options. Sooner or later the truth had to come out. He followed the slight, delicate movement of her mouth as she asked a question.

“So, what’s supposed to happen, now?”

Reece angled his frame against the table, trying to shift his thoughts away from Taylor Lawrence as he shifted his body.

Miss Fairmont leaned forward. “Well, that’s really up to the both of you. In cases such as this, it’s important for the families involved to consider the ramifications upon the children. They’ve grown up believing you to be their natural parents, just as you have. While you’re certainly within your rights to claim your own biological child into your custody, there are many other options that can be considered.”

“Such as?” Ms. Lawrence pressed.

He could see that this option alarmed her. Frankly, it alarmed him, too.

“Some families try a liberal visitation process at first, creating almost an extended family for the children. Others prefer to leave things as they are for the children’s benefit until they are older. Essentially it’s up to the two of you to work this out.”

A big warning flag went up in his mind. He’d seen enough as a lawyer that he had learned to resist the urge to volunteer information until it was absolutely necessary. There was no telling what would happen once the truth was on the table. Was he prepared to push for legal joint custody if she wouldn’t let him be part of his little girl’s life? Reece clenched his fist out of sight under the table. Yes, he was.

“What if we don’t agree?” he asked casually, knowing full well that Ms. Lawrence would balk about sharing her daughter once she found out about Alyssa’s death. The weight of her glare dug into him.

“We have arbitrators on staff who can be of service since we hope you’ll avoid litigation.”

“Where do we start?” Ms. Lawrence asked, a tremor coloring her voice.

“Perhaps each of you meeting the other child would be a good beginning,” Miss Fairmont suggested.

Reece felt a tension headache pounding at the base of his skull as the muscles contracted even more. Here was the freight train barreling right toward him and no way to get off the tracks. He reached up and rubbed a hand over his neck.

“I’m sorry. That’s impossible.”

“Surely, you’d like to meet your own daughter, Mr. Wallace,” Miss Fairmont cajoled.

He stared up at Miss Fairmont, the heaviness of what he had to say pressing down on him. He dropped his hand. “Yes, I would.”

“Then can’t you understand that Ms. Lawrence also would like to meet her child?”

“Look, I really don’t know how else to say this. About a year ago, a drunk driver hit Alyssa and her mother. It was a terrible accident.”

“That’s how your wife died?” Miss Fairmont asked.

“Yes.”

“And what about your daughter, Mr. Wallace? Was she injured, too?”

His head sank to his chest. He knew he had to look the woman across from him in the eye and tell her, but damn it hurt.

He couldn’t look up just yet. “Alyssa…” He paused, then squeezed both fists tighter and forced the words out. “Alyssa didn’t make it, either.”

He heard a pained gasp from Ms. Lawrence. A quick glance confirmed the shock that registered in a hardness about her mouth and the clutching of her hands into tight, white knots.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer Ms. Lawrence the chance to see her child,” he hurried, “but I desperately would like to meet my daughter.”

Taylor Lawrence bolted from the room her hands covering her mouth. Miss Fairmont sat stunned.

He watched helplessly as Ms. Lawrence ran down the hall and disappeared behind the door of the ladies’ restroom. Reece blinked. Instinctively he wanted to follow her, to comfort her after the shock, but he doubted she would accept anything he had to give.

Miss Fairmont’s gaze flicked back to him. She, too, had watched Ms. Lawrence’s hasty exit. Miss Fairmont frowned. “This is most unexpected. Is there anything else I should know?”

Reece steeled himself, shutting out the strange mixture of compassion, protective instinct, and awareness Taylor Lawrence brought out in him. He pressed his mouth into a firm line. It was now or never.

He couldn’t think about what his decision to pursue a legal right to see his daughter would do to Ms. Lawrence. He didn’t want to hurt her or barge into her life, but he didn’t have a choice. Not now. Not once he’d found out he could set the wrongs from the past right. It was clear that Ms. Lawrence wasn’t going to take anything to do with him very well. From this point on, he would make no excuses or try to sidestep the uncomfortable truth. He had one shot to make up for the lie that had plagued him since Becca’s death—and he was going to take it.

“Yes, there is, Miss Fairmont. If the little girl Ms. Lawrence has raised is my biological daughter, I intend to be part of her life and take up my responsibility for her by seeking joint legal custody. Whatever it takes.”

He stood to leave. Miss Fairmont stopped him with a light touch at his sleeve.

“Don’t you think that this can be worked out without the courts, Mr. Wallace?”

“No offense, Miss Fairmont, but I’m a lawyer. I never take anyone at his word unless it’s written down in black and white, signed, dated, and notarized. And I think you can agree that there’s little chance I’m going to gain the trust of a woman whose world has just been shattered when I was the messenger. I know what it means to lose a child, Miss Fairmont, and based on my experience she’s going to be in too much pain and too angry to be civil, let alone agreeable.”

Chapter Four

Taylor felt sick. She’d returned to the conference room to find that Reece Wallace had already left. But relief lasted only momentarily once Patricia Fairmont informed her about his employment as an attorney and his intentions to seek legal joint custody.

She drove on autopilot to Emily’s daycare, her mind frozen. She swiped at the tears under her eyes. How like a man to plant a land mine in your world, then walk off to leave you with the world blown out from under you. She’d certainly seen it happen often enough with her father, then a series of failed relationships, capped off by the doozy of a bombshell Michael dropped on her life, shattering it.

She was angry, frustrated, and hurt. The universe owed her. She’d lost a child she’d never had the chance to love, and some ignorant, good-looking, self-centered man she’d never met before was threatening to invade her world and impose himself on the child she’d poured her life and heart into.

She pounded the seat with a tight fist, then grabbed another tissue to blot her nose. Who had screwed this up so badly anyway?

How dare Reece Wallace think to hurt her and Emily this way? She and her mother were the only family Emily had ever known. How could anyone believe they should just step into their lives uninvited? What was he thinking?

It wasn’t about Emily. That much was certain.

Well, if he thought she’d acquiesce easily, he was mistaken. She’d fight him in court, if it came to that. Emily was hers no matter what a blood test said, and she wasn’t going to share her baby with just anyone. If he wanted to be part of her daughter’s life, he was going to have to prove himself. Good looks, a lucrative profession, and the natural attraction factor he seemed to possess in spades wasn’t enough. Not when it came to her daughter.

She turned the gray sedan into the preschool parking lot and checked herself in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were puffy and her mascara had worn off, leaving shadows where it had smeared.

She tried a smile. Emily would need a smile. Convinced she could give her one, she took a deep breath, got out of the car, and ran for the preschool’s entrance.

Emily was pensive as they drove home. “Why were you crying today, Mommy?” she asked finally as her little fingers toyed with the ear of Eddie, her fuzzy, brown teddy bear.

“Mommy just had a bad day, sweetheart.”

Taylor knew she would have to be honest with her daughter. She had made it a firm policy never to lie or cover over things with Emily. But the fact was that this instance was a little more complicated than most. As much as she disliked holding back from her daughter, until she really knew what kind of man Mr. Wallace was, she wasn’t going to give Emily a reason to care about him. Protecting Emily had to take top priority. She would tell Emily the truth, but it could come later.

Taylor forced herself to smile, remembering that her daughter needed it from her. “I’m sure glad you had a good day.”

Emily smiled back, her tiny white teeth a perfect row between chubby cheeks and dark, wavy hair.

“Mason shared her doll with me today.”

“Did you share Eddie with her?”

“Yeah. But Eddie didn’t like it very much.”

Taylor let the familiar conversation ease her nerves and comfort her. “Why is that?”

“She wanted to feed him peanut butter.” Emily emphasized the disgust by screwing her round face into a grimace and sticking out her tongue.

Taylor chuckled. She knew very well that it was Emily who detested peanut butter. The bear couldn’t have cared less.

“Well perhaps next time you can explain to Mason what Eddie does like.”

Emily brightened instantly. “Did you see the rain today, Mommy?”

Her little girl’s enthusiasm was contagious and acted like a healing balm on Taylor’s bruised spirit.

“Yes, I did. Those drops were almost as big as eggs.”

“No, bigger,” said Emily stretching her hands out. “As big as pancakes.”

“Really? No wonder I got so wet.” They both laughed. Taylor felt a lifetime away from the incident that afternoon. “What shall we have for dinner?” she asked Emily.

“How about pancakes?”

Taylor quirked a brow. “What about chicken strips and green beans?”

Emily touched a finger to her chin, considering it.

“With chocolate milk…” Taylor added as an incentive.

Emily smiled. “That would be good, too.”

After dinner, a bath, and a bedtime story, Taylor began tucking Emily in. “Mommy,” Emily’s voice was heavy with sleep, “what made you cry today?”

Taylor took a deep breath. “Mommy had a meeting today. It was very sad and made me angry, too.”

Emily snuggled down into her bed, her eyes slipping half closed. “I have days like that, too.” She patted Taylor’s hand. “Don’t worry, Mommy, tomorrow will be better.”

Taylor smoothed back Emily’s hair, then absentmindedly tucked her hair behind her own ear. The soft scent of baby shampoo and talcum powder she still used after Emily’s bath plucked at her heartstrings. As much as she wanted to take Emily’s sweet words to heart, she knew tomorrow wouldn’t be better nor the next day nor the next. Her world had been shattered in a way she had never anticipated, and she didn’t even know where to begin picking up the pieces, let alone fitting them back together.

There was only one thing of which she was certain. She had no intention of using the word “daddy” or mentioning the possible connection to Mr. Wallace for as long as possible. She couldn’t do much to protect her child if he pushed for his rights in court, but at least she could determine how to break the news to her daughter.

As far as Emily was concerned, she had no daddy. Taylor’d never told Emily that Michael was her daddy, only that he’d helped Mommy make Emily. As far as Taylor was concerned, a daddy was someone who loved his child enough to be there day in and day out, no matter what the sacrifice. Michael didn’t have the desire or the ability—he abandoned her the moment he’d discovered her pregnancy. In her opinion, regardless of his biological contribution, Mr. Wallace had yet to earn a right to the title.

The fact that he was an attorney only made things worse. Taylor nibbled at her lip. If he was anything like her own attorney father had been, he’d give plenty of lip service about wanting to be part of his child’s life, but work would always dominate his time and attention. For James Lawrence it had always been about prestige and the next big case. His wife and daughter had merely been convenient social accessories to round out his image.

Taylor’s stomach clenched tight. She didn’t know anything about him, other than what she had learned today. She needed to see her child’s reactions to him first. What if Emily liked him? Thinking of Reece Wallace as an object of Emily’s affection sickened her. What if Emily disliked him? How would she ever be able to survive visitations if the courts ordered it?

Emily’s eyes opened wide. She was fighting going to sleep. “Mommy, Eddy didn’t get dessert. Can he have some?”

“Right now it’s time to go to sleep.”

Emily rubbed her eyes, evidently more tired than she knew. “Can we sing the song about the lady in the castle?”

“Sure.” Taylor took a deep breath, letting the notes rise from her chest and vibrate in her throat. This was their little family tradition, something special she alone shared with her daughter. She lost herself in the song, letting it wash over them. Emily’s eyes grew heavy, and she smiled.

Before Taylor had finished the second verse, her daughter was asleep. She never got to finish the song, but it didn’t matter. She gently kissed Emily’s forehead and padded from the room on tiptoe.

Taylor looked back at her sleeping child. Her heart ached. Emily was her baby, and yet not her baby. It was a thought that reached in, twisted, and stretched her sense of security into a thin thread that threatened to unravel. Reece Wallace might have a claim to her child,
if
the tests came back positive, but even then there was no way in hell he was taking Emily from her. With her finger she flicked off the light.

She walked down the hall into the softly lit living room and grabbed the phone off the elegant cherry end table.

With a shaking hand she dialed the number Patricia Fairmont had given her.

“Hello?”

Taylor was startled when he answered. His voice sounded more appealing over the phone—smooth and deep. He probably could sing a wonderful tenor if he tried, especially with how broad his chest had seemed. She readjusted the phone at her ear, shoved the errant thoughts aside, and lifted her chin.
Focus
. Getting intimidated wasn’t going to help Emily. Being attracted to him was definitely not going to help Emily.

“Mr. Wallace, this is Taylor Lawrence. I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”

She heard a quick breath of surprise on the other side of the phone. “Sure.”

“Mr. Wallace…”

“Just call me Reece.”

She swallowed. “
Mr. Wallace
, I’m aware of your intentions regarding court proceedings about Emily should the test results prove positive.”

His tone changed instantly. “If you’ve called to change my mind, you can forget it,” he ground out.

She stiffened at his reaction, all her maternal instincts forging into a protective shield. “The fact is, Mr. Wallace, before you try interfering in our lives, perhaps you ought to get to know us first. I’m not about to introduce
my
daughter to a stranger that I haven’t had a chance to at least talk with,” she stated acidly. There was a long pause.

“I apologize. I realize this is extremely hard on you. I just assumed you called to debate custody issues. I appreciate that you are concerned for her—”

“Concerned?” the word came out loaded with sarcasm. “I’m her mother. I’m not
concerned
, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect her—even if that means protecting her from
you
. I’m the only parent she’s ever known. And no matter what the test results reveal, there is nothing that is going to change that.”

“I know.” For a moment the only sound was silence. The pain that radiated from him was palpable, even over the phone. He cleared his throat. “I would really like to meet you to talk things over. Just give me a time and place.”

Taylor fisted her hand by her side. Now she’d done it. She’d engaged the enemy and hadn’t thought of a battle plan. Should she invite him to her home where she’d be in a familiar setting? No. She didn’t want him to know where they lived until it was absolutely necessary. And since she wasn’t about to go to a stranger’s home alone, that left a public place.

“What about the Bent Cover Café?”

“That bookstore in town? Are you sure that’s appropriate given what we need to talk about?”

Taylor bristled. She realized she might be overreacting, but she refused to let him start calling the shots. Michael had tried to dictate every facet of her life, from the way she dressed to the food she ate. When she’d told him she was pregnant, he severed his relationship with her as if she were a pariah. It had taken nearly four years to erase the effects, leaving her independent and wiser. She wasn’t naive enough to step in that same situation twice.

“Are you planning on shouting or making a spectacle of yourself, Mr. Wallace?”

“Well, no—”

She didn’t give him time to think and instead barreled ahead. “Then the bookstore should be just fine. Does 11:30 tomorrow work for you?” With any luck she’d be able to squeeze an hour out between her morning and afternoon appointments with clients. The bookstore was public, comfortable, and halfway between her 9:30 and 1:30 consultations, both of which were big projects she needed to land to keep her business afloat.

“I’ll be there.” His voice was a little sullen, which oddly gave her an immense sense of satisfaction, because she’d maintained control of the situation.

“Good.”

Taylor didn’t even say good-bye. She hung up the phone, then stared at it for a few moments, trying to slow her rapidly beating heart. Her hand still seared from the touch of the receiver. Dear God, what had she done? One little skirmish on the phone didn’t mean she was ready to go up against an attorney. She would have to keep her edge but not push him too far, if she wanted to protect herself and, more importantly, Emily.

The next morning, after her meeting with Mrs. Applebaum regarding new curtains and upholstery for her living room, she found him waiting at the bookstore. In a small way it irked her that he had gotten there first. The scent of dry paper and mellow old leather mixed with the toasty tang of coffee and sweet cinnamon-apple coffeecake. Taylor ignored the homey fragrance she adored, pulled back her shoulders, and strode to the small, round table. He stood up from his chair as she sat down. Good grief, he fit the description of tall, dark, and handsome to a T and the simple courtesy of his gesture caught her off guard.

He stretched out to shake her hand, and reluctantly she took it. Instant awareness, not of him as a threat but as a man, shimmied up her arm. His touch, like a small electrical shock, unnerved her and she jerked her hand away from his. His eyes narrowed, as if her touch had affected him, too, then he gave his head a little shake.

“Thank you for meeting me. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night, but I really think this meeting is important. I appreciate you suggesting it,” he said.

Taylor settled into the tall, overstuffed, burgundy chair, setting her purse down beside her. At the time she had suggested the store, she hadn’t considered that the large, cushioned chairs that were so comfortable for reading over a cup of hot coffee in the café, weren’t exactly the best thing when a person was trying to stick to a no-nonsense conversation and needed a keen mind. She glanced over at Reece Wallace. He was tall enough that his head came just above the back of his chair. His brown eyes were bright, his dark suit, white shirt, and red tie, clean and crisp.

“Mr. Wallace—”

He cleared his throat. “I meant it when I said I’d really prefer if you would call me Reece. Only the senior partners at the first law firm I worked at and my English professor in college ever called me Mr. Wallace.”